Chapter Text
“Oh kiss my tail fan, you little ankle-biting freak!”
He nearly lost his footing in his mad dash around a wooden crate. It had been a final push that left him wheezing for air. Wearily, he looked over the corner — fixating on the dirty off-white dress stalking off into the darkness with a loud snort.
Shrimpo lightly rested the back of his head on the crate. Reprise is a rarity and he wanted to take advantage of every single second he could get of it. After all, the five-minute joyride in the elevator wasn’t nearly enough for floor after floor of utter hell.
The crustacean rubbed his eyes. “If Toodles appears on the next one, I’m going to lose it,” he grumbled to himself. The twisted, inky version of Looey had given him enough trouble already, rearing their ugly face floor after floor. Just when he thought they had caught a break from Looey, twisted Toodles decided to take the helm of the most annoying piece of work on the floor.
“The only good thing about her is her short as shit attention span.” It was easy to confuse her — a real feat for a twisted to achieve when even he could do it.
But duty calls. Shrimpo had seen glimpses of twisted Tisha weaving through the dusty bookshelves, standing still to “dust” them off. Y’know, he had always wondered if the corrupted entity was aware of the inky substance that coated the end of her duster for all she left behind on the books was more of that sticky ichor. The wooden floor also had numerous splatters of ichor — all stemming from her attempts at “sweeping”. Toodles wouldn’t take long to loop back to him and he wasn’t fixing to meet her so soon.
He dusted off his long shirt and started to creep away from his hiding spot. Toodles had disappeared from his view and he hadn’t seen Tisha in a while. “Don’t care as long as everyone stays the fuck away from me.” Though, paranoia chilled his spine. What’s stopping the twisted Tisha from standing right around the corner and his dumb fuck stomps right in front of her? He’s been slobbered and chewed on a few times for that very reason (more times than he would ever admit). Let’s not add another bite wound that would take weeks to mend.
“Now where’s that last stupid machine?” He heard 3 completed dings in the past, but three didn’t make the elevator open up much to his disdain.
Fate answered with the fourth and final ding!
Fate also had a bone to pick with him. As soon as the noise faded, faint feral growling started to rumble behind him. Shrimpo glanced over to see a pair of glowing red eyes. Pupils shrank considerably with dangerous interest and the sickly sound of limbs popping barely had time to register in the Toon’s senses.
Shrimpo broke into a run, covering his ears to get the sound of garbled child’s laughter out of his head. “God!” he screamed in anguish. “I’ll bust your big head in! I swear I’m going to do it!” When he will do this? It’s still up to debate, but he would if Twisted Toodles doesn't pick on someone else to bite already!
His insults and threats did not slow the entity’s pace, in fact, they were rather amusing to the sickly beast much like a wounded seal thrashing in water. All the frightened movements and verbal threats acted like a big white flag that she could chase down.
His panicked zigzags held her attention. Shrimpo’s breathing became strained and he felt his legs start to weaken from the sprinting. Bit by bit, the Toon slowed down. Bit by bit, Toodles’ claws left gashes on the wooden floor as got closer. Ichor smeared along her sharp fangs; she could feel Shrimpo’s warmth start to radiate on her face.
She paused for a minute, hunching low to the ground, before launching herself into the air. Her claws stretched out and her jaws hung agape to rip into the Toon’s shoulder.
She fell through the air.
“HAHAHA!” mocked Shrimpo as soon as he saw her angrily slam her fists on the ground, watching her prey vanish out of reach. If the ankle-biter could fly through the air, then so could he! … In a way. However, in the moment, he savored his victory by making an L shape with his hand and putting it against his forehead as he sailed effortlessly to the elevator. “BITE ME, I DARE YOU! DO IT!”
Twisted Tisha made one last attempt to give chase, but the thick elevator door slammed shut. Triumph swelled in Shrimpo’s chest. At last, he’d catch a break until the elevator arrived at the next floor. “Pfft… Piece of cake.” None of these Twisteds frightened him.
Black strings and miscolored claws uncoiled from his waistline and receded back to their source — a particular beige-colored Toon that towered over him.
The other Toon perked up at the mention of cake. “Shrimpo, you got cake?” asked Goob excitedly, “since when? Are you gonna share??”
It’s a long story to explain how he ended up traveling the depths with Goob. A story that was for another day as Shrimpo narrowed his eyes at him. “What? What cake? I hate cake, I don’t have any!” He snapped his fingers at the craft in annoyance.
He wondered if it was successful in capturing Goob’s attention, but it was a little hard to tell when it looked like he was looking in two different directions at once.
“Look, did you pick up anything this time?” Shrimpo managed to scavenge some more gumballs, chocolate, and an entire liter of pop from the floor as well as some tapes. He hated reminding Goob constantly, but he hated the other Toon coming back to the elevator empty-handed even more.
“Oh! Oh, yeah I did! I only got one thing though.” Goob smiled sheepishly once he admitted it, but Shrimpo had lowered the bar so much that a single item was good enough.
(After all, it was Goob that dealt with extracting. Shrimpo had yet to figure those damn machines out.)
The craft held out a colorful Medkit. “Taa-daa!” he proclaimed, “do you like it?”
Shrimpo folded his arms and masked the only happiness he felt in a long while. “It’s fine,” he replied dismissively but quickly reached out to the kit. “Give it here before you drop it somewhere.”
Goob wrapped an arm around Shrimpo’s waist and pulled him to the point of bumping into his fluff. "Saved you a few steps!” he chirped as he lowered the Medkit closer to the shorter Toon. “Here ya go though!”
“Ugh.” Shrimpo firmly pushed back at the crafts Toon with one arm and yoinked the precious medical supplies with the other. “Can we go up already? We’ve gathered enough Tapes to leave.”
Enough to make the descent worth it. Once Dandy reared his head from the depths, one could exchange 250 Tapes to go return back to the surface lobby. It’s a safe guaranteed trip back to the decrepit educational center they called home where… it sucked still. All the remaining Toons (including himself) lived off of whatever bits of food they found.
It’s a miserable existence. In a way, the dangerous underground floors were the only source of thrill that they had left.
At least before some of them never returned from its depths.
Toodles. Looey. Tisha. Three examples of those that remained stuck in the grasp of Ichor.
Shrimpo glanced up at Goob for a moment. The beige Toon rested his cheek on top of Shrimpo’s head and wrapped his arms around them in a tight embrace.
Scraps.
Goob isn’t meant to be down here, Shrimpo believed. Not with his sickly optimistic worldview. He wasn’t ignorant. He’s seen what roamed among the abandoned kitchens or warehouses.
And yet he keeps diving down here, testing the boundaries into deeper depths. Vee disappeared a long time ago, and so did Pebbles. Toodles. Looey. Tisha. Sprout.
Scraps.
The names piled up. The surface turned quieter as their numbers dwindled; floors claiming anybody too foolish or too stupid to go back before their demise. He liked his pessimism. It kept him realistic. It kept him aware.
The fluffy toon hummed quietly as he lay on top of Shrimpo’s cold head.
He didn’t have to gamble with his life like this. He’d hate to become one of the damned Twisteds mindlessly chasing anything that moved. Both Boxten and Rodger dedicated day and night to the Ichor — praying for a breakthrough that might reverse this whole mess.
But Shrimpo saw that they were nowhere closer to an answer than the day they lost the first Toon.
“One more floor,” spoke Goob softly. His hold tightened around Shrimpo’s body. “One more floor. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” A good feeling that he’ll find Scraps intact.
Countless times he heard that phrase; one more floor.
He let Goob hold him, squeeze him for comfort. Despite the aloof smile on his face, his hugs started to feel more desperate as of late. The longer Scraps remained gone, the more needy Goob became for someone to cling to.
“No,” spoke Shrimpo firmly and pulled out his thick stack of Tapes. He could hear the metal screeching under their feet — Dandy was due to arrive any second now. “We’re done. I hate being on these floors.”
They’re both tired. Shrimpo chewed on his bottom lip knowing that it was Goob carrying the brunt of the work. Goob did the machines. Goob pulled his ass out of danger when a Twisted drew close. Goob. Goob. Goob.
All to get closer to Scraps. Wherever she was without giving much thought to himself.
Goob didn’t push back when the floors chipped away at his spirit. One of his fluffy hands looped into his satchel to pull out his share of Tapes, offering to add to Shrimpo’s. He remained silent apart from his tiny, self-soothing humming.
More than 250 Tapes surely for a safe return.
Shrimpo liked his realism. They wouldn’t make it far. He knew this. Goob wouldn’t have made it far either on his own, if at all.
They’d try again another day. Goob slipped back to the elevators on his own time; it was up to Shrimpo to chase him down and make sure he didn't go alone.