Fredrica's ch6 pt1

Daddy leads the way as your rag-tag family heads out of Mama’s dressing room and into the darkness of the backstage. Even before he set a destination, you had a feeling you knew exactly where everyone was headed. The tall man pauses at the deep ruts in the floor leading from the room for only a moment, then moves on inside.

Deftly, he hits a switch on the wall, lighting up the large room. A series of huge work tables sat at the center, robotics equipment lined the walls. Spare endoskeleton pieces hung from hooks from the ceiling, as well as quite a few high-powered lamps. Of all the rooms in the building, this was most certainly the brightest. Several tall cabinets, labeled with the robot’s names, lined the back wall, and next to them were some… Odd devices, like showers or something. Maybe charging stations? Whatever they were, one of them had been obviously removed, leaving a trail of gashes and scuffs on the wood floor. The Owner did not look pleased at all.

He moved over to an unlabeled file cabinet. It looked like it had been through a tornado, the drawers twisted and forced open, leaving dents and scraped enamel on the poor piece of office furniture. You could see his shoulders droop as he peered inside the empty shell.

“He took all the plans.” He said, “Every last one of them, that rat bastard.”

“But I thought he had no interest in us?” Foxy said. While her voice was flat, there was a little more emotion in it than usual. It sounded like genuine worry.

“Well, obviously he’s changed his tune…. This is worse than I expected.” Daddy pulled his shoulders up, and, with a little more hurry in his step, unlocks a door in the far corner. He turns his head back to you. “Have you ever used a gun, son?”

You nod nervously, hands shaking. “Y-yyeah… I used to go uh… Deer hunting… with my Grandpa…”

He grinned a little. You assumed he was pleased you had already killed things with a firearm before. He throws the door open and steps back. “Mama, you help gather provisions. I’ll pull the truck around.”

The damaged but determined shebear gives him a nod and proceeds forward, Carol, who was on her shoulder, holds on tight. Fredrica’s wide hips nearly get caught in the narrow doorway. She begins to descend, down a flight of stairs and into the depths of the theatre’s basement. The girls follow closely. Carla, who was hitching a ride on your own shoulder, rests against your neck for stability. You can feel a slight tremble coming from the minibot.

“Carla, are you okay?” You ask her softly, turning your head to her and bringing up a hand, setting it against her as you walk.

“I’m just worried… And also afraid of the dark…” She nuzzles her head against your hand for comfort.

“Why don’t you turn on your candle? It would make it a little less dark,” You say to her reassuringly. She smiles at this idea and does so, the orange LED becoming very bright. You pat her head and move your hand away to grip at the metal rails of the darkened staircase. “Bonnie will be just fine,” You say, though admittedly, it was more for yourself than Carla.

With the help of cupcake-candlelight and your maglight, you safely make it down the stairs. The smell hits you hard. It’s musty, but bleachy. The acrid quality burns your nostrils. You figure you’ll breath from your nose from now on. The robot girls fearlessly press on, the glow of their eyes the only light aside from your own. The expansive room is actually quite cluttered, with boxes and barrels stacked on shelving units. You follow along, down and asle. You briefly flash your light at the walls of shelves beside you, expecting the worst. Pickled peppers. Jars and jars and jars of them, all their labels in Italian. You give a sigh of relief, and keep your beam set ahead.

The robots ahead of you stop, their collective heads in a large metal cabinet. “Michael,” Mama calls to you in her kindly voice. You hurry up and she fills your arms with various weapons. Pistols, bullets, something that looks like a bomb. You nearly flinch, but then quickly surmise that dropping the deadly pile would probably be far more harmful than letting it rest cradled in your arms.

“Why… Why do you even have all these things??” You ask.

Mama speaks as she straps a gunbelt around her thigh. “They are actually Renaldo’s. He made Gary store them here for him, then, when tensions grew high between them, he never came and picked them up. It would only be kind and thoughtful of us to finally return them to him…”

Once everyone was loaded up with an assortment of probably very illegal weapons, you and your family head back upstairs and to one of the back doors. A small white moving van sits in the alleyway, Daddy’s form seated at the wheel. The girls get to work loading their goodies into the back. He leans out the window, eyes set on you.

“Would you like to ride shotgun with me?” He asks.

You glance at Chica, as she hops into the back trailer and starts to pull down the door. “A-actually, I.. I’d like to ride with others in back.”

The Hawaiian-shirted man gives you a sly, teasing expression. “If I didn’t have to drive this thing, I’d be back there too.” You exchange nods and run to the back before Chica shuts you out.

The chicken grins. “Decided to come back and join the party, eh? Get yer ass in here!” She suddenly grabs you and pulls you inside effortlessly, setting you on her soft lap. She whispers in your ear as you feel the engine come to life. “Things are gonna get a lil bumpy, Mikey, so hold on tight~”