Part Three
“Are you sure about this?”
“Dusk am suwe. If nu gib heawt-huwties nu mowe, nu min’ owwies.”
Sunset made an agitated noise. “Listen to me, Dusk. Right now, all you’re going is listening to your instincts, your need to be loved. I want you to think about this. I want you to understand what you’re about to do, what will happen. I want to know that you decided this was a good idea instead of letting your programming decide it for you.”
“Dusk nu undastan’.”
“Ugh. This is going to be hard to explain, and I am not letting you do this without understanding what you’re getting yourself into. Ian, do we have a respirator that’ll work for fluffies?”
“Several.”
“Good. Get one and the bear spray.”
“What? No! That’s insane!”
“Do it. I want Dusk to have at least some idea what he’s getting himself into. I refuse to be a part of this otherwise.”
“Wut am beaw spway?”
“You’ll find out in a minute. Ian, do it.”
“Fine, but after this we’re going to have a long talk about deciding things as a team.”
“Not a problem. I needed to talk to you about listening to me anyway. Dusk, last chance to back out. We won’t stop you from leaving.”
“Dusk nu gu. Nebah weabe famiwy 'gain!”
“Don’t blame me for this, then.”
Dusk was confused, but not particularly frightened until the feeling of choking from the respirator hit. He realized he might have made a mistake, but it was too late now. He was restrained and couldn’t speak. He grunted a few times, but was ignored.
“This seems unnecessary.”
"It’s not. We won’t be going as far as mother went with me, but this will still be the worst thing he’ll ever experience. For me, we spent years working to elevate my pain tolerance, because if I’d ever fully given up, gone into the full wan-die loop, I wouldn’t have survived. The same principle applies here.
“We’re going to need to spend a few weeks, maybe a couple of months, training Dusk to tolerate pain, cold, nausea, fear, and misery if he’s going to stand a chance of surviving. That’s the price he’ll have to pay, before we can even think of modifying him to that extent.” She snickered at Ian’s surprised expression. “Did you think we’d toss him in a tank and start unraveling his genome right now? At least half of his survival will be psychological. If he gives up, he dies. And unfortunately, I don’t think he’s up to the task right now.”
“What will you do in the meantime?”
“Well, considering it likes doing this, I’m going to assume it won’t try to put an end to Dusk’s suffering prematurely.”
“You seem to be able to talk to it. Maybe you can…”
“No. I can feel what it feels and sometimes hear echoes, but it’s been dead a long time. There’s not enough of a personality left to reason with. Only hatred.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s get this started.”
Dusk was definitely feeling like he’d made a mistake.
…
Sunset watched as the fluffy struggled against the restraints, gurgling as he attempted to scream. The bear spray would probably do permanent damage, maybe even blind him, but that wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t like he was going to be using almost-useless standard fluffy eyes for long anyway.
…
Dusk had finally given up trying to scream. He was so, so tired. The burning never stopped, and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if air was being forced into his lungs against his will. Why? Why would they do this to him? He’d been a bad fluffy, but not that bad, surely?
It might’ve been a few days, or a few weeks, he couldn’t tell. Every time the burning eased up a little they reapplied the spray. The torment was never allowed to dull. Sometimes he passed out, or at least he thought he did. It was so hard to tell, with his eyes swollen shut, his ears full of the sound of his straining heart.
Recently, they’d placed him somewhere. It felt like being in water, very cold water, but it somehow didn’t ease the burning of his eyes and nose at all. If anything, the contrast between biting cold and searing heat only made both feel worse. Maybe…maybe it was best if he just gave up, fell into the emptiness that beckoned to him. Maybe oblivion was better than this.
No! He wouldn’t give up! Not again! He wouldn’t leave his family, not this time! Not like he’d run away from mummah as she lay dying, too frightened to try to comfort her. He wouldn’t be such a coward ever again! No, if they wanted him to fight, he’d fight. He’d show them how he’d changed.
He felt something prick his skin, and suddenly his stomach began to churn, his insides gripped with revulsion. He would have retched if the wretched tube in his throat allowed him to. The darkness beckoned again, seeming all the more soothing, but he held on. He wouldn’t lose!
…
He was abruptly pulled out of the icy liquid, and as it left his ears his hearing returned a little. Maybe it was over. Maybe he’d shown them how sorry he was for being such a bad fluffy. Dusk wiww nebah be bad fwuffy 'gain!
“Dusk,” mummah spoke, voice distant behind his thundering heartbeat. “We’re going to give you a new family.”
He exulted in the words. Finally, he was forgiven!
“But first we’re going to take everything from you.”
Nu nu nu! Pwease nu! he begged internally, hoping they’d somehow hear him, somehow be merciful. His tiny hope died as he felt something forcefully grab one of his legs. Pwease…
He moaned as the leg was torn off.
…
“Sunset, this is too extreme! You’re going to kill him!”
Sunset shook her head sadly without turning from Dusk’s writhing form. “Ian, if anything, I’m holding back too much.”
“Are you enjoying this?”
Sunset whirled to face him, and he stepped back. He’d seen her angry before, but never furious. "Enjoying this? Of course I am! What isn’t there to enjoy about constantly being reminded of years of suffering like this? What isn’t there to enjoy about every waking thought being about how I’m tormenting an innocent creature because I’m too weak to fight for him? I’m sure you enjoyed having to do something worse to me, didn’t you?
“For one minute, have you considered actually thinking about what I’m going through? Have you considered having a shred of empathy for me, to mourn for what I’ve lost like you mourn for the death of every stranger we find? Of course not, because why would you? Why would you care what the scary monster feels? After all, I killed everyone you love, so why should you do anything but hate me?”
He tried to speak, but was cut off.
"You asked me to give you time to process your grief, but did you think to give me time for mine? You think losing people hurts? Try having killed them yourself! Try being the reason why the one person you have left lost everything! But of course what I feel doesn’t matter, because I don’t have eyes that can cry, or a face that shows pain. Because I have to bottle everything up to keep the monster I’ve become from ruining everything!
"Why do I even bother? You never listen. You always think you’re right, even when you know nothing! What could a fluffy possibly know that a human doesn’t? Well, a whole shitload about caring for people! You think we’re stupid, that we’re emotional? We can smell each other’s pain! I know what he’s going through a thousand times better than you do, but I have to keep inflicting this on him, because you two demanded that I find an answer!
"Ian, I’m tired. I’m tired of always trying to find the solutions, of bearing the burdens in silence. I may not feel as much as I once did, I might be cold, but that’s because I don’t have any choice! Because I need to be that way to protect you! Because one of us needs to be able to make the hard choices now, and tear themself up about it later!
"So no, Ian, I’m not enjoying this. And damn you for even asking! Damn you for making me say all this, knowing I’ll dwell on it later, regretting every word! But I can’t stop, I’ve held on so long, been strong for mother, then for you, for so fucking long! I’ve held on, and held on, and held on, but sooner or later I’m going to slip!
"Listen to me. Don’t say ‘I understand’ or ‘sorry’ or any bullshit like that. Just stand there, and listen! YOU DON’T KNOW ME! You don’t know what I’ve been through while you lead your happy little life, while you played your little games and had your family! You don’t know the hell I’ve been through, you can never know. Because you are physically and mentally incapable of even beginning to suffer what I’ve suffered!
"All these years, I suffered in silence, I hid my tears and kept up a happy facade, so I wouldn’t have to hurt the person who was torturing me! I fought for so long, struggled so much, endured what should have killed me a hundred times, for a cause I believed in! And all that time, I thought it was worth it, that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
"Then even that was taken from me. Everything I struggled for was a lie, Ian! Every moment of torment was for nothing, no, for less than nothing! It was all so I would wake up with a memory I wish to God I didn’t have. All so I could bear a guilt that’s so heavy I wish every damn moment that mother hadn’t left the prohibition on killing myself in my programming!
"So look at Dusk, Ian, and save all your empathy and pity for him. Because God knows I don’t need any! God knows I can take this all on my own, carry this weight myself! After all, what’s a fluffy for, if not to suffer for the sake of humans? We couldn’t possibly need the love we were programmed to seek so desperately. We’re just toys, aren’t we?
"Don’t you dare! Don’t you DARE say you don’t think of us like that! You think we don’t know? You think we haven’t heard ourselves being called bio-toys or rejects or failures? Called soulless, abominations, damned? You think we haven’t been hating ourselves, somewhere deep inside, for the sin of having been made wrong? But no, we’re just toys. Of course we don’t feel.
"Humans hate the idea of being called pets. Do you know what fluffies think of it? We fucking wish humans had cared enough about us to call us pets from the start! Oh, we’re programmed! So what? Aren’t you, too? The only difference is that your programming was natural, not man-made, so it’s called instinct and somehow revered, while ours is treated as a reason to view us as less than animal.
"And you know the worst part? I still fucking love you! I can’t seem to find it in myself to hate you, to hate mother, to hate humanity for what it did to me, what it did to us! It’s like Stockholm Syndrome built into my DNA! I can’t fight it, any more than you can fight your need to breathe, to eat, to sleep.
"Ian, I need you to understand this. I am not trying to hurt you! I don’t want to have to say any of this. I dreamed, Ian, dreamed that you’d finally be able to look beyond yourself, beyond your human view of the world and accept me for who I am. Accept me for what I’ve become.
"All of this? All the misery and death? That’s not my sin! Yet somehow, because I was the tool used to cause it, I feel as if I should be blamed for it! I feel like I need to fix everything, because God knows there’s no way you’re fixing it on your own!
“I want to give in, you know. I want so much to just lose myself, turn into the butcher I yearn to be. Let the tiny, miserable spark that is Sunset finally die. Be free of myself, of all the hate and loathing I feel poisoning me. But I can’t, because I can’t bring myself to throw away mother’s wishes! Because I can’t stop myself from feeling so much love for the person who made me go through all of this that the thought of disappointing her is somehow worse than what she did to me!”
The deluge of words subsided, and Sunset stood, gasping for breath. The silence only last a moment, though.
“I’m sorry, Ian, I really am. I shouldn’t put all of this on you, so much of this isn’t your fault. But I don’t know what to do with it otherwise! I can’t let it keep crushing me, keep making me like this. Ian, I genuinely care for you, so please, genuinely care for me.”
“I…”
"No. Don’t say anything. I just need you to be here, to hear me. I…can’t be alone, I can’t stand it.
"Look, none of what I said matters. Forget it if you want. Keep doing things the same way, and I’ll keep holding on. But please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t think I enjoy this. Please don’t think that who I am is what I am. Please, don’t let the monster be all I am to you.
“You know what? Forget I said anything. None of this will matter in the end. Let’s just focus on what we need to do.”
“Sunset…”
“Don’t…don’t call me that. Not right now. Don’t remind me how mother was so cruel she gave me a name that’d remind me what I represent every time I hear it. I think it’s best if we part ways for a while, Ian. Goodbye.”
…
Sunset collapsed, having run until she couldn’t move. She didn’t know how far she’d gone, didn’t know where she was. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered right now.
After all that, I’m just another failure. Couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t hold myself back, now I couldn’t even talk things through like an adult. Moth…mummah, you chose the wrong fluffy. I’ve never been strong enough for this.
She stood, unsteadily, then slumped. She needed find somewhere else. Somewhere she might be able to forget everything, just for a little while. Right now, she just needed to rest. Sleep was so tempting. If she slept, she wouldn’t have to think about everything she’d said and done.
Yes, sleep now, worry about everything later.
…
She awoke to a heavy impact on her side. Given how resilient her exoskeleton was, it didn’t really matter, but it was still enough to wake her up. She opened her eyes, and realized it was day early evening once again. She’d slept for an entire day.
She turned her head, trying to see what had hit her. Something was resting on her side. Something was wrong. She smelled blood, and waste, and vomit. Could she have…no, she wouldn’t have gone on a rampage in her sleep. Not so soon after last time. Would she?
Then she realized. “Oh no. You idiot, no. Why would you do this to yourself?”
He’d followed her all the way here. But…why? Why would he bother chasing her after what she’d done? He shouldn’t even have been able to run this far.
“Sorry,” Ian rasped. “Sorry I…took so long…to get to you. Sorry…for everything.”
He coughed, and Sunset recoiled when she saw spots of blood shimmer in the air. “Why?”
“Are you saying…you wouldn’t have…done the same for me?”
Sunset finally processed what she was seeing. His feet and legs were covered in scratches and cuts, bleeding from where he’d run with reckless abandon. Pink saliva covered his chin and had dripped down, staining his shirt.
“Idiot. What will I do if you die?”
“You’d be able…to live your life…free…”
Sunset would have cried if she could. “But that was never what I wanted…”
…
Dusk was so hungry. The feeding apparatus had run out a while ago, so he lay there, floating in the freezing cold, as he felt his life slowly leaving him. He didn’t understand. Where had mummah and daddeh gone? Why had they left him?
His vision had cleared a little, with no new application of the horrible spray. It wasn’t back to normal, but it was enough to see just a little. Enough to realize he’d been forgotten. It made sense. Who would even bother to remember such a worthless fluffy?
He tried to scream when he saw something horrible crawl into the room. A deformed mass, with dangling limbs and no fixed body shape. It seemed to morph as it moved, the mass on top of its legs shifting. Then the two separated, and he realized it’d been mummah carrying an unconscious daddeh.
What had happened? He tried to speak, but couldn’t, tube in his throat and the surrounding liquid reducing all sounds to near nothing. He struggled with the stumps that remained of his limbs. His vision grew blurry again as tears filled his eyes.
He was suddenly pulled out of the liquid, and the tube was pulled out, triggering a fit of gasping and coughing. “Oh, Ian. I didn’t mean you should abandon Dusk…”
He was dropped on a towel and warmed and dried by a stream of hot air, coming from some sort of roaring munstah clasped in mummah’s tail. Shortly after, she scooped him up and set him down beside daddeh. “Wut happen?”
“He hurt himself, badly. Just stay there, try to keep him warm.”
Dusk struggled his way as close as he could, trying to follow mummah’s instructions. He was still bewildered, but right now he could barely feel anything but relief. He hadn’t been abandoned after all.
“Mummah…”
“Dusk, if you don’t just lay there and keep him warm I’m going to be very angry. Don’t even talk.”
“Making me do the hard work again. Ian, when you’ve recovered we need to talk to each other, not at each other for a change.”
Part Five
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BOI.
That bottled anger/explanation of fluffy feeling hit the right spot.
Preach it, former fluffy turned Xenomorph!
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This part was so FOCKEN well executed, it’s a kick in the Biotoy trope’s gonads.
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What I imagine a lot of fluffies would say/think if their ability to put concepts into words wasn’t intentionally suppressed.
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