FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Arthur worked quietly for a time afterwards. In his lip, he suckled on a thick pinch of Copenhagen, spitting occasionally whenever he found the need to into an empty soda bottle he'd found in the trash. In his heavy hands, Arthur toiled upon the 'Mangle's ruined thoracic skeleton; her steel bones were broken, misshapen and unfit to house the numerous mechanical organs necessary for her to function. He dismantled it; piece by piece, he unscrewed the remaining ribs from her bent and defunct sternum. He uncoupled every rusted and cracked vertebrae from her spine and let the column fall to the ground to be discarded. He persisted through every bone and juncture; he wrenched it apart until her entire thoracic aperture was gone.

Arthur scrutinized the collection of bones spread out before him; many could be refurbished by hand, others obviously couldn't. Amongst those relegated to the latter category was a most pivotal piece that had previously and persistently weighed upon his mind. He reached out and plucked it from the ground, frowning.

Her sternum was shot, in a word. It was curved inwards towards itself; the process at the end faced the manubrium. It was supposed to be straight, flush like a necktie. Composed of a quarter-inch polymer-infused steel, the sternum largely served as the apex at which several structural members attached and subsequently gave the thoracic cavity shape and function in conjunction with the ribs and spine. In human biology, the sternum, while crucial in its own right, was not intrinsically necessary to the survival of the organism; organs were not typically faceted to it. In the animatronic body, however, such things were not as simple, for while it did provide for some external protection against outside forces, internally, the sternum of an android possessed an essential attachment point for the largest diameter line of the master recirculating pump. Without it, the line would float freely, and it would be vulnerable to sudden contraction during pressure changes, not to mention puncture from the other parts in which it shared the cavity with.

The steel was far too thick for Arthur to bend back by hand; even with an iron table and mallet, he doubted he could correct the issue without damaging the clamp assembly in the posterior aspect of the sternum. It left him with frustratingly few options. He could try to order the part; but, it would have to be custom made; it was not something that was massed produced outside of an entire thoracic assembly. Custom parts like that typically took weeks to fill, and he hardly had the time. He could try to refurbish it; but, there again lied the intrinsic issue of damaging it further. He could simply build the 'Mangle' without it and hope that a little 'creative ingenuity' would suffice; however, he certainly thought better of that idea. The 'Mangle' deserved quality construction, not the rudimentary machinations of a madman.

"Son of a bitch," he sighed. It was a vexing concern, one of which would inhibit his progress indefinitely if gone unresolved. He was limited to what tools he'd brought with him; plenty for a standard job, but hardly enough to service something so complex. To compound the issue, the hour had grown late; it was long past midnight and there would be no last-minute errands tonight.

As Arthur sat and pondered—fumed to himself—from outside the corridor a jarring sound like a hammer striking an anvil suddenly startled him. Instinctually, he looked down towards the ground, at first assuming that he'd either absently dropped the sternum or perhaps knocked some part over. But, the parts were as he'd left him; the sternum remained in his hand. It quickly dawned on him that he hadn't been responsible. The sound came again; he whipped around to face the open hallway. He began to sweat; his hands trembled. Again, it came; and again, and again, becoming louder with each succession. It stopped just outside the room; he jolted to his feet. Arthur dropped the sternum; it clanged off the floor as he clenched his fists.

Cognizant of the imminent danger, the 'Mangle' tried to protect him; she rapidly tore through her vocal programming and attempted to enact her song. However, in her haste, she inadvertently sidestepped her power augmentation buffers, and when she activated the program, the abrupt and sudden surge of undirected electrical impulses shorted out her processors altogether, forcing the world to grow inexplicably dark as they—and subsequently herself—unexpectedly shut down.

Arthur was vulnerable, and that vulnerability was quickly exploited as what was once unseen became shockingly clear. It did not peek around the corner; it did not hesitate. It sauntered in with the cold and calculating confidence of a predator stalking its prey. There was no pretense at all in its unsympathetic eyes as they devoured his body like it savored his fear. It broached him with a cold indifference and came to stand before him no farther than a hair's breath away. Its pungent aroma filled his nostrils; it smelled of old lubricants, mildew, and decay. The sounds of it were as harrowing as its appearance. Like a malfunctioning carnival ride its mechanics merely grinded through the motions, unlubricated and creaky. Its flesh was torn opened for him to see all that made it work through a patchwork quilt of musty fur.

It looked up at him; hesitantly, he glanced down back at it. The animatronic fox, vastly different from the 'Mangle', however many inches shorter it may have been, was far more terrifying than anything the man had ever known. His instincts told him to run; his mind realized the futility; the fox was standing in between him and the corridor. It had long since trapped him, and now, he was at its mercy. It looked away from him as its eyes scanned the room. It didn't move as it analyzed the dismembered 'Mangle' and the various parts organized upon the floor. When it glanced towards the counter, the fox paused; its gaze lingered upon the lonely skull that it saw there. For only a moment, a fleeting look of sympathy washed over its face, and Arthur could sympathize with the devil's pity. Too soon, however, the fox had turned his eyes back upon him again. With a blinding speed that he hadn't imagined it to be capable of, it suddenly seized the collar of his shirt, and only then did he realize that it was not a hand that restrained him, but the sharp curve of a rusty, jagged hook.

"What be ye doin' round here, mate?" it asked to Arthur's astonishment. Even awash in a tumultuous sea of fear, Arthur could distinguish the decidedly masculine inflection in the fox's voice. To that regard, it did admittedly appear masculine; the angle of the jaw was squared, though narrow, it lacked breasts, and if he could recollect anything more about him in his fright, it would be the sheath affixed to his groin. His observations hardly mattered, however; they certainly weren't going to save him.

The fox suddenly snarled and thrust his hook deeper into the collar of Arthur's shirt; it tore as a sharp pain dug into his flesh and he cringed. "I ain't in no mood for games or am I known to be patient, so let me spell it out for ye real simple like. I ask ye a question, ye answer the question. If I don't like it, ye don't go home. If ye say nothing, ye don't go home. So when I ask ye what you're doin' here, ye better say something, and something that I want to hear, mate. Are we clear?"

Arthur dumbly nodded and he swallowed hard as the fox pulled himself uncomfortably closer to his face, the icy-cold of his nose-pad pressing against his ear as he spoke. "So, what be ye doin' here, mate; why does the lass over there seem to be in more pieces than she was a'fore?" He punctuated his questions—his demands—with a sharp nibble against Arthur's earlobe. It was hardly enough to break the skin; perhaps, under better circumstances, it could have even been erotic to some degree. As it stood, however, the nip certainly served more than enough to solidify the fox's threatening intent.

"I-I-I'm…Ah," Arthur stuttered; the fox nipped lower, harder. "I-I'm j-just…I-I'm trying…" The bites came again; they slipped lower and lower; they crept downwards and downwards. They came with more pressure than before; they punctured his skin and he started to bleed. The fox lapped at his blood; a cold tongue rasped against his flesh. He smacked his lips and purred with a terrifying satisfaction.

His teeth suddenly flashed towards the man's vulnerable throat, and Arthur panicked as he screamed aloud, "Fix her! I'm trying to fix her; please, please don't do this! I just want to fix her; I swear! That's all I'm doin, here! That's all I'm doin; please, please don't kill me! Please don't; please!" he begged; he sobbed. The fox had struck with murderous accuracy. He could feel the jagged teeth poised to tear into his flesh, the pressure of his jaw clamping down, and the thunderous pulsations of his arteries as they hammered against spear-like points. A dreadful sensation of impending doom crashed into him with all the gravity of a falling star as he hyperventilated. He was going to die there, alone and helpless, and no one would ever be the wiser. His death would not be captured on camera; he regretted disabling it. The fox would never be held accountable; it was too hard to prove without video evidence; it had no DNA for analysis, no fingerprints for matching. He was going to be murdered; it was as simple as that.

After a time, Arthur stopped sobbing. The more he mused upon it, the easier it became to accept his demise. He was no spring chicken, after all. Everyone died; at least it would not be he who let the 'Mangle' down. Within himself, he found the tattered remnants of his bravado. He wouldn't let the fox have the satisfaction of terrorizing him in death. He sniffed loudly and spit cleanly over the fox's head. The fox didn't move. Its jaw remained around Arthur's throat; the pressure remained the same. Heedless to the situation and with newfound acceptance, the man slowly reached into his back pocket. He expected some kind of reaction from the fox; but, it remained motionless. He thumbed at the tin there and pulled it out; nothing changed. He reached around the fox with the can in hand—he was simply too close otherwise—and opened it; the situation remained the same. Arthur became uncaring and took a large pinch from the browned tobacco, content to refresh the old before he died; he settled the dip in between his cheek and gums and tossed the now empty container aside.

He awaited his fate quietly—patiently. For several minutes, he merely stood there, spitting over the fox's head while his throat remained captured between its jaws. He would have assumed that the animatronic had faulted and died in that position as the seconds ticked on by were it not for the fact that he could still feel its tongue gently lapping at his larynx, or the coarse sounds its internal mechanisms made as they functioned noisily. It left him with time to speculate upon the situation and why it was that he remained alive. Amongst the many thoughts that crossed his mind, only one seemed particularly accurate: he had given the fox an answer that he wasn't expecting to hear, and now, in lieu of killing him, he was left conflicted about his options.

It seemed all the more reasonable when the fearsome animatronic suddenly released him; the fox spent some time licking the blood from his neck before he took a hesitant step backwards. His demeanor was so radically different; he seemed suddenly meek and apologetic, caring even to no small degree. He had just licked the man's wounds clean, after all. Arthur reached towards his neck in bewilderment just to be sure; his hand came back clean, if not slightly stained with oral lubricants.

He looked down into the face of the fox, utterly baffled by his actions. The fox didn't meet his gaze right away. For a time, he simply stared off into the room, his eyes sifting through the many glimmering parts spread out across the floor. Arthur watched the spectacle in silence; the confusion was simply too much for words to address as he observed the fox grasp his tail with his only hand and pull it about his waist. He idly toyed with the tip, running the hook of his other hand through the frayed and stained fur.

Finally, he turned to face him again. "Ye mean to fix the lass?" He asked poignantly, his inflection curiously hopeful through a voice made uncharacteristically timid. Arthur simply nodded in reply, too lost for words to do anything else as his would-be executioner was suddenly reduced to a submissive, trembling mess.

"W-why?" he probed further. Arthur had never felt more conflicted before. His emotions ran high in regards to a situation that had spanned the entire scale of emotional intensity in a brief smattering of minutes. Minutes that had seen him petrified by the fear of death in one instance, and accepting that inevitability in another. He had been prepared to die there, and now, instead of such a grisly expectation did he find himself feeling sympathetic towards the animatronic fox that had just nearly delivered him unto his fate.

His was a whirlwind of inner turmoil that ravaged his mind. Sympathy quickly yielded to frustration, and that frustration unto anger. How dare that machine attack him unprovoked?! Had it truly been so blind to miss what a child could have easily deduced; or, was it simply too ignorant to know what new parts really looked like? Did it completely ignore the fact that while the 'Mangle' may have been disassembled, her remnants were cared for and organized, even rebuilt to some degree?! Did it even see what he had done with her skull; how he allotted a lifeless android to oversee her own reconstruction when she couldn't see a goddamn thing at all?!

Arthur suddenly lost himself to the rage of his own musings. His vision became clouded in red as the loathing took hold of him. He never felt himself move; he couldn't even feel the fluffy body between his own hands. He had abandoned his fear, and in its place, he knew only of hatred.

"Why," he spat out in blind fury. "You's want to know why I want to fix her?!" he violently shook what he could not see: the hapless fox cowed before his might, too stunned to react. "You put me through all that shit and that's all ya have to say?! Pathetic fucking thug; you threatened to kill me! I'll tear you's apart, build you over, and do it all again! I'll rip everything from your slimy, rotten body and melt it down! I'll cut off your fucking head and mount it to the wall and make you watch; you hear me?!"

Arthur bodily lifted the fox from his feet; the fox quavered, but the man never felt it as he brutally slammed the android into the floor and reveled in the symphony of agony that he suddenly heard. "You's ask a question, I answer it; ain't that what ya said, you fucking bitch?!" He sharply jabbed the fox in the stomach; he knew just where to strike. The hole in his flesh was simply too frail to protect him and it yielded easily before Arthur's influence as the man plunged his hand deep into his abdominal cavity and wrenched it sickeningly upwards.

A mechanical scream exploded into the stillness of the room as the fox writhed and twisted upon the ground. "Answer me!" The fox flinched amidst the sudden outburst as the man continued to mercilessly violate him. He could feel the wrath of his hand clawing through his organs, slowly: painfully. Its malevolence was terrifying as it inched towards his chest. The fox could only cry out again as he felt that cruel appendage dredge through his body.

"It's simple, really," Arthur suddenly said; his voice was horrifyingly calm and devoid of all emotion. He lowered his lips to the right of the fox's head and they touched his ear has he spoke, "she's beautiful, and the rest of the world's ugly. She was wronged, and I mean to fix that. She's been on my mind every damn day since I first laid eyes on her as a kid. I can't tell you's how many times I've been back here hoping to catch a glimpse of her only to leave disappointed time and time again. Can you imagine then what it's like to finally find what you've been looking for for so long only to find out that you was decades too late; to find out that she's been broken and dead for years and no one had the decency to bury her?"

As he ranted, Arthur's hand mercifully halted mere millimeters away from an animatronic heart he sought to stop; but, his rage burned on. "She never deserved this; I'm gonna make it right. I'm gonna make her pretty again; I'm gonna give her a song to sing and a reason to sing it! I'll rip her from death's hands and make her live again. I'll give her the life she was always meant to have! And I'll be goddamned if some shit-bag, pussy-footin', junky pile of scrap is gonna stop me!" His hand violently lurched upwards to grasp the fox's mechanical heart. He squeezed, and the foxy sang in agony. Critical faults screamed across his processors as his internal power fluctuated erratically. He thrashed anew, desperate to escape his wretched tormentor as the vice that was Arthur's hand tightened fiercely. Pressure alarms blared in the fox's mind. His limbs began to feel numb as he continued to struggle; but, the man was relentless. His grip was iron-tight and far too strong for his enfeebled pump to compensate for. The fox began to feel lightheaded, and suddenly his limbs slackened at his sides. His vision grew dark, and a harrowing feeling that he had never known slowly crept into his mind.

The tides had turned.

Is this what it means to be dyin?' _he wondered. _Is this what I done to the human; the fear he felt when I bit him? Is this what it feels like to be the prey, helpless against the hunter? It's scary. _He panicked. _I don't like this feeling; I'm so scared! Please; I don't want to be shut off! I don't wanna die! I'm sorry! I never knew nothin' else! Please! Please; I didn't do this to you! I'm so sorry, I'm…

"…S..sor…ry," the fox choked; his vocal processors faulted. "P…le..ase…" His optical array went offline; he tilted his head slightly to the left, pressing his cheek against Arthur's in a final act that conveyed both his submission to the man, and the sincerity of his feeble prayers. It was like a shot that pierced the heart of Arthur's fury; the gentle touch of sumptuous, ruined fur against his cheek that dispatched of his hatred with extreme prejudice. Reality came crashing back to him and brought with it all the harrowing memories of the past few minutes, and the recollection of an enraged monster he never wanted to be. He had only wanted to defend himself; instead, he'd become a butcher. Like a barbarian, he had tried to kill the animatronic fox by crushing his heart. Arthur quickly relinquished his grasp on the fox's organ and instead cradled it delicately.

It sickened him, the realization of what he would do when faced with desperation and misunderstanding, that he could become a killer with the metaphorical flip of a switch. Staring down to face the unnerving stillness of the android beneath him, he sincerely hoped that he hadn't succeeded. He didn't have the parts to resurrect another one. In his grief, Arthur lowered his head down and rubbed his cheek against the fox's just as he had done. He listened to the android's parts as they whirred dimly. Gently, if not a bit absently, he felt over his mechanical heart to check for leaks; he assessed the surrounding connections, couplings, and hoses similarly. When thankfully he found none, it was with bated breath and a prayer to a god that he didn't believe in that he waited for the fox to waken again.

"Ye ain't gonna finish me off?" Arthur jolted to the sound of his mechanical voice. His head snapped up and his eyes immediately fixated upon him, thankful to see his own opened and gazing worryingly back at him. It was only then, however, that he noticed the profound look of horror and subdued hopefulness upon his face, and despite all that the fox had put him through in the past few minutes, the man felt utterly ashamed of himself.

"No," Arthur affirmed quietly, "I'm not gonna going to do that to ya."

Accusing, animatronic eyes remained wide with fear as they watched him unblinking. "Ye promise?" asked the fox warily.

"I promise," the man replied.

"Swear it to me?"

"I swear it to ya."

"…Will ye say the words so I know ye mean it?"

Arthur sighed. "I swear I'm not going to finish you off, fox. I promise I won't."

The fox wasn't mollified by his words, however. The trepidation and dread in his eyes remained unchanged as he struggled to say anything more to the man. He simply didn't know what to do or how to phrase his next question, and it was one of which he desperately needed to utter. Admittedly, he was too afraid to ask for fear of being butchered again; but, he could not simply ignore his discomfort forever.

An abysmal whimper sprang forth from his throat as he timidly reached down in between the valley of their bodies with his only hand and lightly brushed the tips of his fingers against Arthur's arm. He closed his eyes and trembled as he bit his lip, bracing himself for the return of agony that never came again. When the discomfort didn't change, the fox hesitantly glanced up into Arthur's face, and the mournful look he imparted upon him just before he lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek again was all the push he needed.

"…Ye still have your arm inside of me, mate." The fox whispered, and Arthur flinched at his words. He hadn't forgotten; what he'd done to the android was far too grisly to ever redact from his memory. He likened to think that it would haunt him forever. What had to be done, however, was something that he wished he could've avoided. It wasn't going to be pleasant, not for either of them. If ever a man wanted to change the actions of his past, surely he did.

However reluctant he was, Arthur steeled himself and pulled back on his arm. The fox grimaced and sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the offending appendage withdraw from his body.

"It hurts," he cried, suddenly grasping the man as his ears reflexively folded against his skull. Inch by inch as it moved, pain flared anew across his sensors and drove mechanized tears to his eyes. He tried to override the sensation, to lock out the sensitive receptors if even it meant to shut himself down; but, he couldn't, the anguish was simply too overwhelming to access his command line.

It tore at Arthur to hear him cry out; but, he had to be persistent. To stop would only serve to prolong his suffering, and he'd already caused enough of that for one night. In sympathy and with one hand free, the man reached down to cradle the fox's head; he brushed his fingers through his fur and tucked him into his chest if only to assure him that the worst was nearly over.

"I know," he regrettably replied. His had been such a hideously cruel retaliation despite the provocation, and while the initial act of retribution had been swift and merciless, the repercussions were anything but. It was a tediously slow process wrought with torment and misery as he pulled his arm free, the kind of which persisted even as the hand he'd imbedded into the fox rested gently atop the fist-sized hole in his abdomen.

For many restless moments, the pair remained just as they were. Arthur gingerly held the fox as he whimpered and sobbed into his chest, careless of the oil that stained his shirt as he cried. He felt wretched and disgusted with himself. He was supposed to fix things, not break them, and he certainly wasn't supposed to try to murder them either. Even if the android had threatened him similarly, he at least would've been humane about it; his jaws would've easily decapitated him and he would've likely felt little to nothing at all. He sighed; it would've been far better had the android actually followed through and killed him; at the very least, he wouldn't have to feel so awful anymore.

"…I'm sorry," Arthur mumbled into the silence as the moments had lingered on for far too long. There was nothing more he could think to say; nothing that could assuage the fox regardless. There simply weren't words enough to atone for cruelty like that, and even if there were, they'd hardly be enough.

He sighed as he glanced towards the lonely skull on the countertop. However appalled he was by his actions, the man still had another obligation to fulfill, and she couldn't wait all night for him; she needed all the attention he could possibly afford her. Even in knowing that, however, it was still with a vested measure of reluctance that Arthur relinquished the poor fox and left him to quiver alone upon the floor as he stood. It hardly seemed like the right thing to do; it left him feeling hollow, like there was something more to be done but he couldn't find the means with which to do it.

Arthur couldn't bear to look at the fox anymore; his misery was just too palpable. He poised himself to walk away; but then, a breathless gasp left his lips as a mechanical paw suddenly seized one of his legs! Startled, Arthur tried in vain to jerk his leg free; but, he only succeeded in drawing the animatronic fox closer! He tripped and fell forwards, only just catching himself on his elbows as he landed above the android. Adrenaline surged into his veins as he grit his teeth; his muscles tightened down like a spring, ready to snap in a moment's notice as he prepared himself to fight for his life again!

"It be alright, mate," sniffed the fox quietly, but with conviction enough to take the wind from Arthur's sails and garner his full attention. "I'm sorry too." The man was utterly floored then as the fox tucked his muzzle beneath his chin and nuzzled him submissively. His thoughts derailed with all the subtlety of a bullet train careening off a cliff; it hardly made any sense to him. After all that had transpired between them, was that truly the end of it? Was that the fruition of what horrid barbarism yielded: a dominant human master and a submissive animatronic slave? Was that the gift of violence: acquiescence? Surely not! Violence did not make companions! It didn't bring things together; it tore them apart! They should not have been so close; the fox should have fled; he should have pushed him away! And yet, there they were, trapped inside a moment so bizarre that found would be enemies comforting each other like feuding lovers! It was a moment that had no right to exist at all, but persisted nevertheless.

Too stunned to do anything else with regard to the inexplicable, Arthur allotted his instincts to guide him and he soon found the melancholy fox in his arms again. The android's shutters abruptly ceased; he seemed to relax in his embrace which, under any other context may have been desirable, it was hardly so given the circumstances. It was the absolute wrong reaction to have with regard to the situation at hand. Realistically, the fox should have felt nothing but fear in his presence. He should have had some frantic desire to be rid of him, or, at the very least, be combative and hostile towards him, to fight him off if only to preserve his existence. The idea that the fox was doing anything but was simply absurd to no small degree, and was gravely disconcerting to Arthur who briefly pondered the possibility of an android experiencing Stockholm's Syndrome. If that was not a possibility, he wondered then if perhaps he had done some internal damage to the android and, if he had, how best to rectify his mistake.

"It ain't alright," groused Arthur, his voice foreign and distant, even to his own ears as he mused frantically in his mind. Perhaps the key lied somewhere in the simple utterance, as if drawing the fox's attention to the obvious would somehow elicit the proper emotional response from him? The fox, however, remained persistently atypical in his reaction as he wrapped his tattered arms around his back, further deepening his concern. If only to compound the issue and supplement Arthur's surmounting worries did the man feel a gentle tug at his body, and he shuttered in the realization that, somewhere in his musings, he had ceded to the want of the fox and had allotted their bodies to grow closer.

"Yes it be," the fox replied. "We both acted foolish and did things that we both clearly regret. None o' this would've ever happened if'n I hadn't threatened ye like I did; and, for that, I be so sorry, mate. I been alone and abused by humans for so long, I just didn't know no better anymore. I heard ye banging around on stuff in here the other night and just assumed the worst, ye know? When humans do nothing more than rip ye apart and leave ye to rot, ye don't have the best impression o' them. When I saw ye looming around the lass and the state that she was in, I just lost me temper; got so blinded by me own rage that I couldn't see what ye were really doing. I just saw pieces and a big human rummaging through them; and the poor lass has just been through so much!"

"I didn't want her to suffer no more," sobbed the fox as he explained. "That's why I acted the way I did. It weren't right o' me; but, that's why it happened. I'm so ashamed of me'self; when ye said ye was only tryin' to fix her, I knew I'd made a mistake: worst one of me life! And I knew ye was telling the truth, even 'afore I attacked ye. Humans don't come back here, and they damn sure don't bring no new parts 'round here neither. If'n I'd just stopped to think 'bout it, none o' this would've happened."

The fox pulled away from Arthur if only to look upon his face as he wept. "Ye had every right to shut me off, mate; permanently. I just ain't never been handled so roughly 'afore, and when ye squeezed me pump like that," he shuddered as a few more oily tears leaked down his cheeks. "Everything just got so dark and numb; I ain't never been so scared. After what I done to ye, though, it weren't right o' me to beg for me life like I did. Ye should've just done me in, mate. It would've been better for the both of us…"

As the fox breathlessly sobbed, Arthur regarded him through a veil of confusion and empathy. On the one hand, the android had, in fact, confessed to his fear of him. In and of itself, the admittance was a relief as it was the correct emotion to convey and one that he had expected to translate into physical action. On the other hand, however, the action itself remained inappropriate. Paradoxically, the sensation of dread had led the fox into a submissive if not profoundly morose state of remorse and guilt. While the android had admittedly been correct in his assumption of the idea that he had been the instigator of the incident, it was not his place to assume sole responsibility and rationalize Arthur's barbarism on the grounds that he was merely trying to fix the 'Mangle' and simply overreacted to the android's intrusion. For the fox to use words as paltry as 'foolish' and 'regret' in regards to the man butchering him from the inside out hardly seemed befitting of the gravity of the deed; he seemed to be downplaying his role in the brief but gruesome battle, and that did not sit well with Arthur at all.

And that was to say nothing of the contents of the rest of the fox's confession either. The android had clearly been abused by human hands throughout his existence, to the extent that he no longer possessed the capability of differentiating between friend or foe. Whatever trauma he had suffered had apparently been so severe that he had resolved to violence as a means with which to address any newcomer, which, by and large, suggested that he should otherwise be incapable of trust. And therein laid the conundrum of the current situation: if not trust, for what other reason did the fox surrender himself so openly to Arthur? Why did he bare his feelings so honestly if not because he had some glimmer of hope in the man? Why was he so repentant towards something that had taken away his geniality and had given him little reason to believe that he wouldn't butcher him again?

It was the very nature of such ponderings to dredge deeper the pit of concern growing in Arthur's belly, and they guided him back to one of only two aforementioned conclusions: had he damaged the fox in his rage; or, had the fox unwittingly found salvation in his tormentor?

"Mate?" the fox asked, drawing Arthur's eyes, though his attention remained elsewhere. "Are ye alright? I didn't hurt ye, did I?" His eyes widened. "If'n I did, I'm so sorry, mate! I-I didn't mean it; truly I didn't! Please, mate, say that I didn't hurt ye! Say that I didn't! Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm…"

Arthur abruptly snatched the fox's muzzle in the thick of his ebony hand, and though he saw the terror that was briefly reflected in his eyes, his grip remained undaunted. He couldn't bear to hear the fox apologize to him again; he simply couldn't. After all the fox had confessed to him his shame did he yet understand that he was not the monster in all this? Had he not made amends enough to know that he was forgiven when, by at that time, he played the role of the victim and needed no forgiveness at all? And how could he then, through all that tormented him, be so concerned about the man that had inflicted it upon him in the first place? Why did he care like he did when it was Arthur that deserved to be in his place?

It was frustrating, maddening to no small degree that Arthur had yet to say anything more to the android as he lied their blubbering upon the floor. Though far from innocent, his guilt was a far cry from what the man had done, and Arthur had admittedly become weary of the fox's need for atonement. It was a mistake that needed to be rectified, one that had clearly gone unabated long enough. His concerns were damned; if the fox was suffering from some mechanized Stockholm's Syndrome or internal damage was of minimal importance in the grand scheme of things, and nothing more could be done for the 'Mangle' until the situation was properly addressed. With his grip still firmly held about the fox's muzzle, Arthur finally gave to him the attention he deserved.

"No," he said flatly. "Just no; no to the hurting me, and no, I ain't alright! I don't want to hear you apologize anymore fox, you hear me?" The fox meekly nodded, his eyes wide in fear and fixed upon Arthur's own. "I'm the one that should be apologizing to you; but, the words just ain't enough! After what I did, I don't think I can ever forgive myself! I butchered you; I tried to kill you; sorry just doesn't quite seem to cut it! I wasn't a fool; I was a goddamn monster! Regret does not even begin to describe the depth of my self-loathing right now! And it only gets worse every time I hear you say that you're sorry! It cuts me just a little deeper with every fucking oily tear that spills from your pretty little eyes! Every shutter, every hiccupping sob, every touch of your body against mine reminds me that just minutes ago, I was elbow deep in your chest completely intent on taking your life!" Arthur's voice quavered; he snorted and spat a viscous mixture of mucus, saliva, and tobacco out onto the floor. "So don't you dare say you're sorry to me anymore, 'cause I'm more sorry for what I done than you'll ever know!" The man's shoulders quivered and something wet dripped from his eyes to join the oily rivers that stained the fox's cheeks. "I don't care how ya acted towards me; you's was just looking out for your dead friend over there; I get that now. You's just wanted her to have some measure of peace. And what did I do? I tried to kill ya for it!"

His bleary eyes stared into the fox's own luminous, golden orbs and he released the android's muzzle. The conversation had derailed so quickly; it was not at all like he had imagined it. He simply wished to forgive and forget and move on. Instead, he was a coward, one that burdened his victim yet again for his own selfish desires.

"That ain't me," he sobbed. "I just want to fix things; that's all. I don't want nothing to suffer, especially not 'cause of some fucked up things us humans do! I don't want to be like that; I don't! I-it sickens me, fox; what I did; to know that I'm just like those assholes that hurt you and her makes me feel like I got something on me that can't never be washed off! And I just don't know how I'm supposed to deal with that!"

Arthur gazed only numbly at the fox as his unblinking eyes spilled forth the tears that he was no longer strong enough to arrest. He had never meant to confess the raw nature of his own feelings to the android; he was merely helpless to prevent it from happening. Once the words had started to flow it was all he could do but to sit back in his feeble raft and paddle through the daunting swells of his emotions. He capsized and drowned then only when the fox slowly leaned forward and pressed his cold nose-pad to his cheek, and the sudden kiss that he felt there would have brought him to his knees were he not already there.

"We'll deal with it together, mate," whispered the fox. "You n' I, we'll find our way through this mess." He chortled daintily, inappropriate again given the circumstances. "It's silly to think that we both assume the same 'bout each other. But, ye know what? Maybe we can use that to start over on the right foot and paw this time. I'd like that; wouldn't ye?"

"Foxy be me' name, mate," the android proclaimed. "What be yours?"

For a moment, it was all Arthur could do but to regard the fox with utter disbelief. His concerns notwithstanding, the animatronic had just effectively placated the gnawing feeling of doubt that had surfaced so violently mere seconds ago with not but a few encouraging words and a not-so-subtle show of affection. To say that he was flabbergasted would've been a gross understatement in consideration to the fact that they had gone from bitter enemies, to mournful acquaintances, and ultimately to the cusp of a possible kinship all in the span of a smattering of minutes that had only just broached the half-hour mark. It wasn't humanly possible; but, therein was perhaps the justification to the reasons why: Foxy, as he'd identified himself, wasn't human, and it was entirely possible, if not plausible, that the android was not strictly tethered to a similar emotional response as Arthur was.

Or he was damaged; or he had Stockholm's Syndrome… whatever the case might have been, it was pointless to argue the semantics of it all. As the facts stood, the fox had proffered an olive branch of peace and, if not simply for the sake of the 'Mangle' alone, it would've been foolhardy not to accept it for what it was.

"Arthur," extended the man in reply as his sorrows dried. "Arthur Johnston; AJ for short. And to answer your question: ya, I'd like that too; done enough harm for one night; I think it's about time I did some good here."

Foxy quirked a brow; it was a curious expression to observe given that he had no discernable eyebrows. "Ye be referring to the lass, aye?"

Arthur shrugged, "Both of y'all I suppose," he said honestly. "But, ya; the 'Mangle' is the sole reason behind my being here; wouldn't be much point to all this if it wasn't for her."

"It's good to know ye then, AJ," Foxy smiled. "Bout time we found a human what cared for us like that!" He chortled again, and admittedly, Arthur still wasn't comfortable with it. "Whatever I can do to help, mate, I'm at your service." That, however, was something that Arthur was comfortable with. The extra hand—in this case a literal term—could prove to be invaluable, especially given the harsh constraint of time, and how much of it had been wasted already.

Arthur cast a chaste glance back towards the lifeless skull that adorned the countertop and then over the many parts that littered the ground, incomplete. Like a broken puzzle did the 'Mangle's' body lie there exposed and ruined. There was much that still needed to be done for her, and that was to say nothing of actually reviving her mental faculties and systems, if they could even be revived at all.

"There's a lot of work that goes into resurrecting the dead, Foxy," he said as he returned his gaze to the largely intact animatronic beneath him. "It takes time and patience, and, in her case, a goddamn fortune." He shook his head. "It ain't about the money, though; never was. It's the principal of the matter. The 'Mangle' was a good and beautiful girl; that's how I remember her, and that's what she deserves to be."

"I'm going to make it happen, Foxy, whatever it takes," Arthur persisted as he leaned back onto his heels and extended his hand, palm opened. "For her, I can set aside any indifference we may have had, and if ya are still willing to help me, then I'll take it, 'cause this ain't about you and me; what happened between us don't matter no more. It's all 'bout setting things right for her; that's it. If you wanna be a part of it, then you's reach out and take my hand; if not, you's only wastin' my time."

Foxy glanced towards Arthur's proffered hand and then back to his eyes. His gaze was firm and unwavering; it conveyed absolute truth and conviction towards his words. There was no doubt in his mind, no fleeting wonder if the man honestly cared about the 'Mangle'. He had been willing to kill for her; that, in and of itself, was more than enough to prove his devotion to her. What was more, however, was the lingering sympathy hiding within the darkness beyond his orbs, that shy empathy that dared betray the man's feelings to the animatronic fox, and foretold of his concern for him as well. To whatever extent it may have been, be it even small or insignificant, Arthur cared too about Foxy, and Foxy could not simply let such things slide.

He had been miserable for far too long; he hesitated no more and reached across the yawning void that separated them and gently placed his only paw within Arthur's hand. Arthur did not hesitate at all; he closed his thick fingers around Foxy's mechanical flesh and shook his paw firmly with a smile; a smile that was optimistically mirrored by the android.

"It ain't but a small kindness," thought Foxy. "But it's more than I had in a long time. Maybe, given enough of it, me and this human can become friends? Maybe…Maybe I won't have to be so lonely no more…"