Chapter Text
Shrimpo could confidently say that extracting ichor was what he hated the most, more than anything in this cursed center. He hated everything about it, from the sounds the old hunk of metal and glass made, to the way the ichor unrhythmically exited the chute, to the stupid skill checks, everything. He has never kicked something more than he’s kicked every stupid machine he had the utter misfortune of working on.
Why did they even need to do this? It was pointless! Why did they, the so-called stars of the show, have to go down into these cramped floors to extract their lifeblood, while weird twisted clones of themselves chased them around?
Well, Shrimpo actually knew the answer to that. Nobody knew. At least nobody cared to speak of a reason, closest they had was Rodger and his stupid research on all the Twisteds. Not like the handlers were around to do it, assuming they did. Which if he had to guess, they hated doing it too!
Another missed skill check, another agitated grumble left the shrimp. He was almost done, and yet this still was taking forever! He was doing it perfectly! Why was this machine being so unbearably difficult? Just turn the handle and the ichor will appear, simple concept!
He took little notice of the other teammates that passed by as he proceeded to bang his head against the wheel in frustration. He continued to glare up at the stuttering chute as, little by little, ichor filled the machine.
It wasn’t any better that his other teammates kept offering to ‘help him.’ He always declined with a not-so-welcoming hiss of annoyance. He didn’t need help! He was doing it right! It was the machine that wasn’t working!
He got used to the offended and rude stares or comments he got in return, as whoever was bothering him left to find something better to do instead of wasting their precious time on him.
Finally, he heard the machine ding, signaling its completion. He gave the machine one last kick for good measure before huffing off away from it.
He always tended to stomp whenever he walked, no matter his mood. He assumed, based on how long it took for the machine to complete, that there was only one more before the elevator opened. The early floors only had 4 or so machines.
He continued to make his way to the elevator. A distant ding was heard, and in his line of sight was the now-opened elevator. The annoying alarm buzzed throughout the floor. Finally, they can get the last floor done and he can call it a night.
Using what little stamina he had, he jogged his way over to the opening. There were a couple of Toons already in, likely due to being at the elevator when it opened. He was greeted by the faces of Brightney and Poppy, two Toons he cared not for. They didn’t speak to him. He didn’t speak to them.
Within the 30 second time frame, more of the team hurried their way into the elevator. First was Tisha, then Rodger, with Toodles in hand. Last came Pebble and Goob. Once everyone was in, the elevator doors shut with a metallic slam.
The Toons around him immediately began to settle, to relax after a stressful floor. Shrimpo didn’t see any of the Twisteds on the floor, but judging from how Pebble immediately laid down beside Goob’s now sitting frame, both seeming tuckered out, it wasn’t any common twisted they'd encountered.
Not like it was his problem. He moved to stand in the back of the elevator, leaning his weight against the wall.
He overheard the conversations of the other Toons. About anything their brains could think to talk about. Shrimpo tuned it out. He hated hearing their stupid stories and stupid conversations about stupid topics. He would rather work on another machine than listen.
They were almost done with the shift, and Shrimpo was itching to leave. He could at least soak in the small peace. Of him not being bothered by someone else.
A peace that didn’t last, as a certain fluffy craft looked in his general direction.
“Aw Shrimpo,” he stood up, and Shrimpo immediately glared daggers at the fluffy craft. Apparently Goob's intelligence was as dense as his fur. “Do you need a hug to turn that frown upside down?”
Shrimpo scowled. Immediately what little good mood he had soured. “I HATE HUGS!”
He watched as the Toon flinched at the retort. His expression was replaced with disappointment. “What?”
Did you not hear me the first time? His scowl deepened. “I HATE HUGS AND I HATE YOU!”
“Never mind…” The craft retreated to his former spot.
Shrimpo ignored the glares he got from the rest of the team.
It was obvious how much he hated most of the Toons, especially ones like Goob. Always persistent, thinking a small act of kindness would make a Toon soft. Well, newsflash! It doesn’t work like that, and he was tired of being persistently told to be better, to behave nicer, and to accept such pitiful actions. He doesn’t want their sympathy. He doesn’t want their useless pity. Some Toons can’t be changed, and he won’t let them mold him into some softie!
The abrupt stop of the elevator drew Shrimpo from his thoughts. He stopped leaning against the wall and approached the elevator door, and so did the rest of the team.
After a few seconds, the door ascended, and Toons filed out of the elevator. Shrimpo was the last to exit. He watched as Goob and Pebble ran ahead of everyone else, the rest of the group paired off to look for machines. Not Shrimpo.
Everyone else had missed a machine in the corner, right next to the elevator. In their hurry to get out of the elevator (or to get away from him), they’d missed it. Of course they did, they’re all idiots. The downside was that he had to do it. Great. And so the slow and tedious process of extracting began.
This floor was a greenhouse, in which the center was looped in an 8-shape. A floor Shrimpo hated. Then again, he hated the entirety of this elevator shift, of all the shifts he went on! He hated this center! He hated the museum! He hated the show and he hated everyone in it!
His hold on the wheel tightened as he continued to extract. That was the whole point of his character: to hate. To hate everything and everyone. He was the bully of the show. He was written to be that. That was all he was to be. And he suited his role well. He did as he was written to; to ruin others' days and make everything difficult.
He had his reasons. He was better than everyone, and everyone hated him for it. It was as simple as that. At least, that’s what he believed. He always had the mentality in his mind. That’s how he always behaved. Both on and off camera. But now, the show is over. There wasn’t a script to follow, and everyone could do what they wanted. A free-will they didn’t have before. No handlers to keep their appearances up. No rules. No kids to teach and care for. Just… freedom in the mental way. They were still trapped in Gardenview.
The center was abandoned years ago, and now they’re all stuck going down the floors to extract ichor. They still had their old Toon rooms, and the common areas, and now access to all the staff areas the humans would occupy. The floors were one of these. No one even knew the floors existed until Dandy came to announce the operation. About what they now must do to keep them all alive. Shrimpo, and everyone else, didn’t even know where the ichor even came from before this. They know how they extract it now, but it’s a mystery where it’s being extracted from.
Now thinking about it, Shrimpo never stopped to actually process this whole situation. From what he’s seen, everyone else has just been blissfully ignorant about how overall strange this was, or becoming a lot more serious than how they were in the show. He didn’t really know which category he fell under. Honestly, he didn’t want to fall into any category. He never has, and prefers it to be that way. He hated the thought of conforming into a certain role. He was his own person! And he was fine the way he was! There wasn’t a need to change who he was always supposed to be.
He was always meant to be a bully.
That was just how it was going to be.
The ding of the now completed machine snapped him back to reality. He blinked, then turned to look towards the elevator. Already some Toons were gathered around it. Brightney always seemed to be the first to arrive at the elevator. The distracting Toons got sick of her drawing the Twisteds attention from them thanks to her stupid light bulb.
Along with the lamp Toon was Poppy, Rodger, and Toodles. The three adults were murmuring among themselves, while Toodles was looking at him.
He shot her a glare back. The child gave him a mean look back, before looking away towards Rodger.
He didn’t know how long it took for him to finish the machine. Again, however, he wasn’t the last one done. He made his way over to the group and stopped near the closed elevator door, at a comfortable distance.
No one addressed him.
After a few moments, the alarm was set off as a ding rang from the distance. The elevator opened, and the group congregated in. It wasn’t long before the rest of the team huddled in.
The elevator closed once everyone was in, and instead of descending further into the depths of Gardenview, the elevator began to ascend at a rapid pace.
Finally, the shift was over. He won’t bother reporting. Rodger was usually the one to do it, so no use in him opening his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to just return to his room and face plant onto his bed.
Scanning the room, no Toons seemed to be injured. As long as he was left untouched, he didn’t really care if someone was injured or not. It was their own fault for getting hit.
The elevator came to a slow stop, and the elevator opened to the main floor of Gardenview. Everyone immediately began to exit, Shrimpo included. He noticed the familiar faces of other Toons running to meet their friends. Poppy immediately approached Boxten, Tisha in hand. Toodles ran to meet with Teagan and Glisten. Brightney met up with Razzle and Dazzle, along with Astro. Goob went jogging over to his sister, and Finn. Everyone had their little groups. Their friends and family.
Shrimpo passed them without a word or a glance.
He went to a separate elevator. One that led to the upper floors of the center. Where the Toon’s rooms were. He hit the first button. He knew others would follow shortly. He didn’t care.
It was a short trip, only lasting a few moments before the elevator opened again. He was greeted by the 5 framed photos of the main characters and their handlers. He frowned, and passed them. He passed by the communal kitchen on the floor. He passed by the other, door-less rooms of the Toons he shared the floor with, until he reached his room.
He stood in his doorway for a few moments. Taking in the state of his room. His own little destruction. An old, worn punching bag, knocked over furniture, the numerous holes in his walls, each with their own story. He kept the light off, and moved to fall into his bed. He exhaled in annoyance, and shifted, moving to lie on his back. He hated how uncomfortable his old mattress was. It was so.. Thin. He’s surprised he didn’t suffer from severe back pain.
…
It was an odd feeling. Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like to be greeted by someone while returning from an elevator shift. Not like that'll ever happen. He hated the thought of it. He couldn’t think of a single Toon who would. He was fine being alone. He didn’t need anybody to ‘cheer him up.’ It was all stupid!
Everyone else was stupid. This whole operation is stupid. The whole show was stupid.
…
He needed a nap. A nap would make him stop thinking of the stupid what-ifs. He didn't want to think about anyone else. They didn't matter. Nothing did.