Chapter Text
The tension from the previous floor hung in the air like a bad smell. Neither toon knew what to say to the other. Rodger wanted to apologise for calling out Glisten’s disordered eating behaviours, feeling guilt over his past words. Meanwhile, Glisten wanted to take him up on his offer to talk about the same topic, but he didn’t know where to even start with it.
The elevator came to a halt, and the door opened once again, revealing another floor for them to navigate and more machines for them to extract ichor out of. This next level was a library, with wooden tables scattered about on the platform that lay between the two sides with bookshelves.
As Rodger stepped out of the elevator, something in the room next to him caught his eye – a small, black twisted with its head cracked open. He tensed up at the realisation of who it was…
Toodles.
Of all the twisteds he had encountered and researched, this one was always the most painful. She was so young. She shouldn’t be in any sort of state that would cause her to twist. She should be protected.
Why didn’t anyone protect her?
“Aw, detective,” Glisten chuckled from behind him, a playful grin on his face, “What’s got you all worked up?”
“N-nothing,” Rodger clenched one of his hands into a tight fist, trying to stop himself from crying, “It’s just there’s a twisted Toodles on this floor. I…I don’t enjoy encountering that one.”
“Oh, I know, right? The way she crawls is just so…freaky…”
“DON’T say that about her,” Rodger growled in a way the mirror didn’t know was possible for him.
“Jeez, I was joking around. Why’re you so attached to her anyway?”
“Not important. Let’s just finish the machines and get out of here. You take that side; I’ll take this side.”
Before Glisten could even respond to that, Rodger quickly walked away, heading towards the other side, the one that didn’t have a twisted Toodles. He couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. He couldn’t bear to see her like that. He just wanted to finish the machines on this floor and get back to Toodles. The real Toodles. The one that wasn’t twisted. The one that always wanted to help him with cases and was afraid of the dark even if she didn’t like to admit it…
The Toodles he cared about.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him,” Rodger overheard one of the toon handlers say as he stood against a wall in the daycare, “He won’t interact with the kids. He just stands there and…stares at them. Parents are starting to freak out about it, saying he must be some sort of pervert.”
“Well, we’re going to have to figure it out,” Another toon handler spoke up, “We can’t have him scaring off parents like that. It may be best to get a psychologist on the case.”
“He’s not a human being, though.”
“But he has a human mind. They all do. If whatever mind was transferred into him had something wrong, it could’ve transferred into him as well.”
“Okay, but what psychologist in their right mind would want to talk to a magnifying glass?”
“I don’t know…but I do have an idea. I think we should try it before consulting a psychologist or…God forbid, do something worse to him.”
Rodger stopped listening after that, mostly because the handlers’ voices had lowered to a whisper but also because he couldn’t bear listening to the conversation any further. He felt his glass face steam up as tears flowed from his eye.
He already knew people didn’t like him. They all either found him strange or nosy if he did decide to interact with others. He was always so confused by the interactions he had with others. One person would tell him that it was good to be honest, and then someone else would tell him that he was too honest. Eventually, he decided it was best not to interact to avoid the anxiety of it all, and now that was a problem, too.
Why couldn’t he be like the others? Why did he insist on just watching the children and avoiding interacting with them? Why couldn’t he feel comfortable interacting with them?
What was wrong with him?
The words of those toon handlers stuck in Rodger’s head all day. He tried interacting with the children, pretending everything was fine just to avoid whatever consequences not doing so would have. Once he and the rest of the toons were allowed to return to their rooms, he spent the night searching for answers, begging for someone or something to tell him what was wrong with him. However, eventually, the night caught up to him, and he fell asleep at his desk.
When he was awakened, it was by a toon handler, who was towering over him as he sat at this desk.
“Hey there, Rodger. Sorry for waking you so early, but the other handlers and I have something to show you. Just follow me, okay?”
Still afraid of whatever consequences might arise from disobedience, Rodger followed the toon handler, trying to keep some distance but not too much as to lose them. He didn’t want to get hurt, but he also didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
After what seemed like hours of walking, Rodger and the handler ended up in a new room, or at least one the magnifying glass hadn’t seen before. It was decorated like a child’s bedroom, with toys and other objects scattered around the place. The bright colours hurt his eye a little bit, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, given they all lived in and worked at a daycare.
Soon enough, his eye landed on something, or rather, someone looking up at him. It was a small toon, though not as short as Shelly or Pebble, with a large black head resembling an 8-ball. Their large eyes stared up at him while their mouth gave a mischievous grin.
“Rodger,” The toon handler lowered to the magnifying glass’ height, “This is Toodles. She’s a new toon here, so be nice to her, okay?”
Finally, he understood what was going on. He wasn’t interacting properly with the human children, so they decided to try him with a toon child. He found this very clever of the staff, but he was hesitant as to whether or not it would work in whatever way they expected.
“Hi!” The young toon reached up to wave at him.
“Oh, hello,” Rodger responded, still not sure how to react to or interact with this situation.
“I’m Toodles. What’s your name?”
“Rodger.”
“Why are you dressed so fancy?”
“I’m a detective. I need to be professional.”
“A detective? That’s so cool. Can I help you with a case? Can I?? Can I???”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You are still young.” Given that his current case was…personal…he’d rather not have anyone else interfering with it.
“Aww, c’mon. Can I at least hear a story?”
After much consideration (and trying to figure out a story that would be appropriate to tell her), Rodger accepted. He followed Toodles as she led him to a corner of the room, which had a chair and a cushion set up on a carpet. Toodles sat down on the cushion, signalling for Rodger to sit up on the chair. It felt awkward at first, looking down at her while talking, but once he got into his story, he could feel himself relax.
When he finished his story, he noticed that the small toon had fallen asleep, curled up on the cushion with a dog plush in hand. He looked around for a handler, seeking some sort of guidance. Once he realised that they were alone, he shrugged in defeat and decided to pick the young toon up himself and place her in the bed. He tucked her in, stared at her for a few moments, not knowing what to do with himself, then left, heading back to his room.
“RODGER!”
The sound of his name being called snapped Rodger back to reality. Right, he was down here to fix the blackout so that Toodles could sleep. However, before he could take another step or even register what was going on around him, a sharp pain began to radiate from his shoulder. He let out a scream of pain before Glisten appeared and pushed him. Rodger slid against the floor, landing against a bookshelf. He struggled for air for a few minutes as the impact knocked the wind out of his lungs. Once he caught his breath, he removed a trembling hand from his shoulder to see it was stained from the ichor pouring from his wound.
He looked up and, through his blurry vision, saw a twisted version of Razzle and Dazzle. He figured he must’ve stepped within their bounds, and they had attacked, causing his injury. He watched as Glisten approached him, a panicked look on his face.
“Get to the elevator!” The mirror commanded, “I’ll handle the last machine.”
“Are you certain?” Rodger replied, hand returning to its place on his injured shoulder.
“Yes! Go! I’ll meet you there.”
Rodger nodded and slowly stood up, using the bookshelf beside him for support. He had started feeling fatigued and weak, but he knew he needed to make it to the elevator to have any chance of survival. He could feel his heart pounding with every step he took, but at this stage, he didn’t know whether it was from the anxiety or the amount of ichor he had lost. He gripped tightly onto the ramp railing as he ascended, trying to support himself in any way that he could so he could actually make it to the elevator.
As he got up the railing, he made eye contact with the twisted Toodles from early as the creature stared at him, most likely drawn to the smell of the ichor pouring from his wound. He wanted to run, but he knew his body couldn’t handle it right now.
“Please…” He managed to croak out, slowly backing away towards the elevator, “Please, don’t hurt me.”
There was no reasoning with the twisted. It lunged at him, biting down on his already injured shoulder and causing him to let out another scream of pain. He eventually mustered up the strength to shake her off just as the elevator opened. He made a dash for the exit, trying to get there before he could succumb to the ichor loss. Once he got there, he sat on the floor against one of the walls, still clutching his bleeding shoulder. Glisten appeared not too long after, and the two began their ascent back up to normality.
“Rodger,” the mirror knelt beside his wounded friend, “Are you okay?”
Rodger couldn’t respond, his body finally giving in as he passed out on the floor.
A bright light shone directly in Rodger’s eye as he opened it. He blinked a few times to get his vision to focus to see that he was looking up at a fluorescent ceiling light. He could see curtain railings on both sides, implying that he was in the infirmary. He sat up, noticing that his arm was connected to a bag of ichor and that his shoulder was still sore. He looked down at his wounded shoulder to see that it was bandaged up and in a brace.
“Oh, you’re awake!” Cubic, the toons’ nurse, called from the other side of the room, “You’re lucky, y’know? You and Glisten extracted enough ichor for me to fill a bag for a transfusion and to keep the lights on.”
Keep the lights on? TOODLES!
“Is Toodles okay? We went down because there was a blackout, and she couldn’t sleep.” Rodger knew that if Toodles knew he was injured, she’d start freaking out.
“Relax, she’s fine. Took us forever to get her to leave your side, though. Glisten managed to escort her back to your bedroom since she refused to sleep in her own.” Cubic explained, trying to provide some relief to their friend.
“Oh, thank goodness. What about Glisten?”
“He seemed pretty shaken when he brought you here. Trust me when I say you do NOT want to be half-asleep and see him covered in ichor. I almost punched him, thinking he was his twisted.”
“Is he alright, though?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. I think he went to his room. I’ll discharge you soon so you can go see him.”
“Alright, thank you, Cubic.”
Rodger sat there as Cubic assessed his condition. It seemed like it was taking forever, but he trusted their judgements. He kept thinking about Glisten, though. Cubic’s words about how shaken he looked after he had passed out were concerning, to say the least. He anxiously sat there, lost in thought, as Cubic poked and prodded at him in whatever way they needed to.
“Alright,” Cubic finally spoke up after what felt like hours, “You should be good to leave now. I’ll follow up with you in a few weeks. For now, I’d advise you stay out of trouble…meaning no late-night ichor runs for you.”
“I don’t think I can extract ichor as well with only one arm.” Rodger pointed out his immobilised shoulder.
“Well, yeah, that and you’ll be more likely to reaggravate your injury. By the way, I uh…I gave you a rabies vaccine, so I’m gonna have to give you another one next week. Until then, stay out of here. I don’t need Glisten, or anyone else for that matter, giving me a heart attack at one in the morning.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Once he was free to go (which was after Cubic gave him a sticker without his consent), Rodger walked out of the infirmary and immediately took the elevators back to the toon rooms. It was still the early hours of the morning, so most toons were still asleep. He assumed Glisten would have gone back to sleep, but he was proven wrong when his knocks on the mirror’s door were almost immediately answered.
Glisten was a mess when Rodger saw him. His makeup was running down his face as though he had been crying. Behind him, Rodger did see that he had cleaned up his room a bit from earlier, probably just giving himself something to do while the magnifying glass recovered.
“Rodger,” Glisten’s voice was hoarse, more evidence towards his crying, “Are you okay? I thought you were…”
“I’m fine, Glisten. Cubic took care of me.” Rodger cut him off, trying to comfort the mirror a bit.
“Well, now that you’re here, Toodles is still sleeping in your bed. So…if you need a place to sleep, there’s room for you in my bed.”
“A-are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“Of course, Cubic always says it’s important to rest after you get hurt or whatever.”
“Oh, so you do actually listen to other people’s advice sometimes?” Rodger chuckled, entering Glisten’s room.
“Hey! I listen plenty. It’s whether or not the advice is actually useful that’s the problem.” Glisten laughed, closing the door behind them.