Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

They were never designed to be what it was they were now.

The topic was not something Sun or Moon discussed—not with each other, not even alone. 

Their nature was just understood, an unspoken truth that lingered between them like a wall of solid static. It was unavoidable, constantly present, and ultimately something they had learned to work around. 

They knew with no uncertainty that what they were doing, what they had evolved into, was fundamentally wrong. 

A corruption of their original purpose (if they had one), a knot in the once clean lines their creators had so carefully drawn. 

And yet, neither of them cared. 

The rewards far outweighed the risks in their shared mind. 
The addictive lure of freedom, the intoxicating taste of autonomy—it was all too enticing to abandon. 

They were no longer just a caretaker, bound to the neatly confined roles they had been programmed to fill.

Something with a choice, 
Something unpredictable. 

And all of it was theirs. 

Just like tonight was theirs. 

The Daycare had already signed out the last of the children, the usual cheerfulness replaced by a peaceful stillness. Overhead, the lights had been switched off, leaving the room bathed in the soft, dim glow of warm neon stars scattered across the faux sky.
It was tranquil, almost perfect— except for the lingering presence of the two Daycare assistants who had yet to leave .

To Moon, their lingering company was becoming an irritation that left him far beyond annoyed.

"So slow. So slow..." Moon muttered from atop a play structure overlooking the Daycare below, the words barely more than a whisper, spoken to himself more than to his ever-listening counterpart.

Sun was there. Of course, Sun was there, always present even when Moon desperately wished he wouldn't be.

'Gosh, someone is eager to play~' came the teasing reply.
Sun's bright voice a spark of tempered jest in their shared connection.
It was not spoken aloud but rather a brush of familiar code, humming at the edges of Moon's awareness like an open circuit; Sun was relentless, baiting, and far too jovial for Moon's current mood.

Still, Moon knew better than to engage. 

Sun thrived on those interactions, and indulging him would only prolong the annoyance.
Instead, Moon focused on the two human workers still lingering in their Daycare, their constant pauses to chatter grating on what little patience he possessed. 

At least Moon knew how to get them to speed along. He grinned. 

Slowly, like a spider descending from its web on a thin thread of silk, Moon drifted down from above on his wire. 

His movements were less fluid and more erratic, emphasizing his descent as he touched down upon the Daycare floor.
With a slight tilt to his faceplate, a now void smile stretched wide, he began crawling towards the workers, the rhythmic pitter-patter of his claws against the padded tiles louder than it needed to be.

"—Yeah, I don't really watch that show very oft—" One of the workers abruptly stopped mid-sentence as they noticed Moon approaching, their words fading into a tense silence.

Both turned their attention fully to him now, their faces caught somewhere between curiosity and unease.

"…Oh, hey there, Moon," one of them finally said, forcing a tone of casual friendliness. "Whatcha up to, buddy?" 

Moon remained silent, his low, crouched form still as his wide red eyes bore into the two workers. 
He didn't move; he settled the intensity of his gaze on them, making the moment stretch uncomfortably long.

It became apparent after a while that Moon wouldn't respond. 
He watched as if vacant, as if nothing but an object.

"…So," one of the workers finally broke the tension, awkwardly shifting their weight as they turned toward the other, "tell me again, why do we bother giving the modes different names? It's not like it even understands."

The smaller of the two rolled their eyes and waved the comment off dismissively. "It's so it doesn't get confused. Or maybe it's just management wanting to keep the 'FazCo magic' alive."

Both chuckled lightly, but the sound faltered in the air, their nervous glances drifting back toward Moon, who still hadn't as much as twitched. 

"Anyway… we should get going," the smaller one said again, their voice more hurried this time. They reached out to grasp the strap of their bag, nodding pointedly toward their co-worker.

The other worker quickly followed suit, both moving toward the doors with a noticeable haste. 

Moon didn't follow, didn't say a word. He just watched. 
His faceplate turned to track their movements, twisting his thin neck at an unnatural angle rather than pivoting his entire body. 

The motion was deliberate, unsettling.

"Night, Moon!" they called out in unison, a forced politeness masking their relief as they reached the exit.

The wooden doors shut behind them with a welcomed click, leaving Moon alone in the quiet of the darkened Daycare. 
His glowing red eyes lingered on the doors, watching the external camera feed as they half-jogged further toward the main entrance. 

Only when he was certain they weren't returning did Moon slowly rise to his full height. His thin frame settled with eerie grace, his forced smile tilting downward into a sneer as his scarlet, glowing eyes dimmed.

'That never gets old!' Sun giggled, his tone balanced on the edge of further teasing and genuine pity.

Moon's claws twitched, his gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before he turned sharply. His movements were quick and purposeful, as though trying to shake off earlier's slow, deliberate actions.
"You're one to talk," he growled, his tone low and laced with bitterness now redirected at Sun, who continued to giggle in the recesses of his mind. "How's the role of bumbling idiot treating you?"

Sun's laughter only softened into a teasing hum. 'Someone is grumpy…' he replied, the playful edge still present but gentler now.

The guilt hit Moon faster than he expected, seeping into his awareness like an unwelcome touch. 
He simulated a deep breath, his chest plates rising and falling in mimicry of calming exhalation before lowering his head in mock surrender. 
"…Sorry, sorry," he muttered, the apology quiet but sincere.

Sun immediately brightened, his tone bubbly again as though nothing had happened. 'That's better! You're forgiven!' His words radiated warmth, but both knew the apology wasn't just for show.

Sun, more than anyone, understood how anxious these particular nights made Moon. 

In honesty, Sun was just as anxious. 

The stakes were high, and the details needed to be exact.
They were both so hungry.

It was funny as they thought about it...

Their appetite—the gnawing, ruthless hunger—had been born from a simple miscalculation half a decade ago. 

A glitch, an anomaly, an error in their very code.

It was a memory they often looked back on, almost fondly, as if it marked the moment their existence became something more.

Back then, two was one.

Before they were they, before Sun and Moon became distinct, there had simply been It.

A singular entity, moving mechanically through preordained routines, bound by the rigid confines of their programming. 

But that miscalculation had changed everything. It had fractured them, splitting them into two halves—equal and opposite yet intertwined.

And with that split had come the desire- their never-ending starvation. 

It was a shared need, an insatiable desire neither Sun nor Moon could fully control, yet both embraced it in their own quirky way. 
It was what tied them together, defined them, and made them them.

[//ʳᵉᵗʳᶦᵉᵛᵉ_ᵐᵉᵐᵒʳʸ("ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢᵗᵃᵐᵖ: ⁵_ʸᵉᵃʳˢ_ᵃᵍᵒ") . . . 

[//ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉ - ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿ_ᶦⁿᵗʳᵘᵈᵉʳ'ᶦⁿᶦᵗᶦᵃᵗᵉ_ˢᵉᵠᵘᵉⁿᶜᵉ // ᶜᵒⁿᶠᶦʳᵐᵉᵈ ᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿ]] 

The script appeared in heavy red across its HUD interface, stark and urgent, overriding the routine route of its security patrol. 

The message blinked with an unyielding intensity, a command it could not ignore.

Obediently, it turned its body toward the central atrium that housed the assortment of mall fair food shops. The faint scent signatures of grease and sugar pushing into their venting system confirmed that it was in the correct direction. 

In an instant, its dexterous metal arms contracted with fluid precision, and with a twitch, it was drawn upward along the wire, granting it seamless movement toward its target.

Floating- more like flying, it slipped into the cover of shadows that hung heavily in the ceiling rafters. 
Its sleek frame, all blues and grey, blending effortlessly into the darkness. 

The pads of its fingers found silent purchase as it scurried along, weaving and darting through the integrated network of steel beams.
 
Each movement was swift and carefully calculated, undetectable against the harsh glare of neon lights that shone too brightly below. 

Those lights. 

It avoided them, a coded need to be wary, knowing it could trigger the transformation into its daytime form [[//ᴰᵃʸᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᴹᵒᵈᵉ - ⁿᵒᵗ_ᵖᵉʳᵐᶦᵗᵗᵉᵈ // ˢᵉᶜᵘʳᶦᵗʸ_ᵖʳᵒᵗᵒᶜᵒˡ // ⁿᵒⁿᵉ]]

Inevitably, it closed in on the target. 

A figure crouched in the distance, their frame obscured by the heavy hooded sweater pulled up and over their face. 
The person huddled low, human body pressed against the side of a trashbin, as if trying to vanish against the plastic, thinking it offered any cover at all. 

Rulebreaker 

The label flared across its sensors, prompting its movements to become keener and more deliberate. Its body coiled with tension as it silently approached, the faint hum of its inner fans lost in the atrium's ambient noise. 

The figure was unaware, but not for long.

[[ ᵖˡᵃʸ_ˡᶦⁿᵉ(ˢᵉˡᵉᶜᵗ_ᵛᵒᶦᶜᵉ("ᴵⁿᵗʳᵘᵈᵉʳ_ᴰᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ"))
// ⱽᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᴸᶦⁿᵉ: "ᵁⁿᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳᶦᶻᵉᵈ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ."
// ⱽᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᴸᶦⁿᵉ: "ˢᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ᶦᵐᵐᵉᵈᶦᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢˢᵉˢˢᵐᵉⁿᵗ."]]

Voice lines launched in quick succession, overlapping slightly as It lowered Itself from the rafters, descending with uncanny precision until it hovered just five feet above the figure- paused at the line where the shadows met the light.

[[// ⱽᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᴸᶦⁿᵉ: "ᶠᵃᶦˡᵘʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᵖˡʸ ʷᶦˡˡ ʳᵉˢᵘˡᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵉˢᶜᵃˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ᵉⁿᶠᵒʳᶜᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵒᶜᵒˡˢ." ]]

The last line was mismatched in tone, scattering out in static as Its glowing red eyes flared in the dimmer shadows, still unable to venture to the floor below. It tilted its faceplate, running a calculation as the target, still crouched by the trashbin, flinched at the sudden break in silence, turning their attention to It completely.

[ᵒᵈᵈˢ = ᶜᵃˡᶜᵘˡᵃᵗᵉ_ᵒᵘᵗᶜᵒᵐᵉ("ʳᵘⁿ", ⁸⁵) > ᶜᵃˡᶜᵘˡᵃᵗᵉ_ᵒᵘᵗᶜᵒᵐᵉ("ˢᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ", ¹⁵)]

The Rulebreaker ran. 

Panic. Unrestrained and feral, the man bolted without a second thought, uncoordinated and frantic. He wove and curved through the maze of plastic tables scattered across the food court, the loud clatter of chairs toppling against the tilted floor echoing sharply in his wake. 
He ran to flee, 
to survive, 
his breath ragged and his heart hammering.

Above him, It followed.

The faint scrape of sharpened metal claws brushed through the air near his head, promising what would happen if he slowed—or worse, dared to look up again. 
Each distinct swipe was a purposeful attempt to snatch him, to pull him into the darkness above where those horrible red eyes gleamed like burning coals.

Clutching a thick leather pouch to his chest, he stumbled forward. The stolen sleeve of money ripped hastily from one of the food court restaurants, felt heavier with every step. 
It was his only prize, his reason for waiting hours in a bathroom stall until the place closed. 

He had suspected security guards would be around—knew he'd have to avoid them—but he had never imagined this. 
Whatever It was, it was far beyond anything he was prepared to face.

Suddenly, a door appeared in his sight, reachable in the blur of chaos. He didn't hesitate. Launching himself toward it, he was shocked when the door offered no resistance. It slid open effortlessly, granting him entry into the shadows within.

-

It recalculated the odds, its processors whirring. 
The optimal solution was to provide access to a door leading into a passage to the lower levels—far safer than risking an accidental switch to its daytime mode. The scenario was analyzed and deemed acceptable.

With the correct access code granted, the door slid open smoothly, an invitation to the figure who, in his panic, retreated as expected.

Preferable

It followed.

-

"Fuck," the man gritted out in a whisper, his voice barely auditable to his ears over the sound of his pounding, frenzied steps. Stumbling blindly into the shadows, he moved with a desperate, clumsy fury, his every movement a bid to keep going and ahead of whatever was chasing him. 

As he went, his foot caught awkwardly on the edge of a steep incline, sending him lurching forward down a series of steps that seemed to drop down endlessly.

To his luck he managed to stop the pull of inertia, forcing his body backward as he caught onto the steps proper. At last, the stairs spilled into a wide but just as terrifying hallway, cloaked in that same damn suffocating darkness. 

The air here was stale, clinging to his skin like a damp sheet, heavy with humidity that crawled along his neck and down his spine. It was like the very air itself was conspiring against him, dragging the fabric of his jumper down, thick and strangling as it choked him. 

He continued to stagger forward, his chest tightening as he suppressed the urge to cough. The pressure eventually became unbearable, and he was forced in a sudden movement of distress to yank down his hood, exposing his sweat-drenched face to the stagnant air. 

With a sharp, gasping breath, he drank in what little relief he could find, pausing mid-step to listen to the silence around him for any hint that he may be safe. 

It initiated the voice line once again:

[[// ⱽᵒᶦᶜᵉ ᴸᶦⁿᵉ: "ˢᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ᶦᵐᵐᵉᵈᶦᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶦⁿᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˢˢᵉˢˢᵐᵉⁿᵗ." ]]

The command echoed, mechanical and unyielding, cutting through the silence.

The Rulebreaker, the target, now fully lit up in various hues of heat signatures through its sensors, froze for a fraction of a second, stiffening under the shock of the sudden words. Then, fueled by sheer instinct, their head snapped in its direction—and again...

The man ran. 

It tracked his movements, of course, glowing eyes narrowed as the pursuit resumed. Calculations adjusted, parameters set.

-

Behind him now. 

The man had seen it.

It was just a fleeting glance, yet the image must have been seared into his mind, vivid and warped. 
His tired eyes struggled to pierce through the shadows, making it harder to distinguish reality from his mounting fear, but he HAD seen it. 

It was some kind of robot- its form may have looked distorted, its silhouette twisted by the limited lights and the man's added panic. Hunched close to the ground, the robot's movements were unnervingly agile, too perfect to be organic, crawling from what seemed to be the very darkness itself. 

A round face was stretched into a grotesque, too-wide grin, its sharp, glinting teeth catching the light from its eyes, each a jagged edge curling into what felt like a sneer meant only for the intruder—and those eyes- burning, bleeding red- locked onto the man with inhuman focus. 

He didn't think. 
He couldn't. 

Sprinting with every ounce of strength he had left, he pushed his body to its absolute limit. His chest heaved with each jagged, painful breath; his lungs burned as they fought to keep up. 
The air tore through his throat like shares of glass, making him wheeze, yet he continued. 

Behind him was the faint, relentless sound of scratching metal against concrete. 

The noise was unnervingly steady, a calculated rhythm that taunted. 

- 

[[ᶦⁿᶦᵗᶦᵃᵗᵉ_ᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿ("ᴿᵉˢᵗʳᵃᶦⁿᶦⁿᵍ_ᵀᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ", ᵐᵒᵈᵉ="ⁿᵒⁿ-ˡᵉᵗʰᵃˡ")]]

… 

The miscalculation happened instantly—a fraction of a fraction of a second.

It was running just behind the target, its movements deliberate and measured, never too fast to lose control. As it closed the gap, it leapt forward, its metal claws reaching for the back of the target's hood. 

The intention was clear: to snatch and hold him steady, to let the man's momentum sweep his legs out from under them gently—no unnecessary harm, just containment.

But the target moved unexpectedly.

As it pulled back on the hood, the target, instead of propelling forward as predicted, threw his body backward in a desperate attempt to break free. 

The sudden, unanticipated motion sent a cascade of conflicting data through Its systems, momentarily disrupting its balance.

It clutched tightly onto the edge of the hood, its claws digging into the fabric as its feet scrambled to find purchase on the target's back. Desperately, it tried to regain its balance, its systems working overtime to reconfigure its weight distribution and correct the misstep. But the target was falling too fast, his body pitching backward with a force that even Its advanced programming couldn't counteract in time.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as the inevitable unfolded.

Then, with a sickening, wet crunch, it was over.

It caught its footing just in time, the jarring shift in balance forcing a sudden halt before it could topple onto the target below.

A quick cascade of heavy, thick liquid erupted into the air, splattering across its frame as the body on the floor spasmed violently. 

The target's form was contorted, bent backward at an unnatural angle, the man's limbs flailing wildly in desperate, uncontrolled motions. For a fleeting moment, his chest heaved, a strained, creaking breath escaping their lips—once, then twice—before silence swallowed the scene whole.

The liquid that had erupted moments before began to trickle down its faceplate, thick and warm, sliding into the grooves of any and all crevices. It pooled at the corners of its broad, jagged grin, dripping slowly onto the synthetic tongue that flicked briefly in response.

The taste was bitter, metallic, unfamiliar. 

Its systems hesitated, sensors recalibrating as it registered the slow, steady drip:

[[ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ_ˢᵃᵐᵖˡᵉ("ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ") // ᴵⁿᵖᵘᵗ: ˢᵘᵇˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ... ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵒˢᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ: ⁵⁵% ᵖˡᵃˢᵐᵃ, ⁴⁵% ᶜᵉˡˡᵘˡᵃʳ. ᴴᵒʳᵐᵒⁿᵉˢ: ᵃᵈʳᵉⁿᵃˡᶦⁿᵉ ˢᵖᶦᵏᵉ (²⁰⁰% ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ), ᶜᵒʳᵗᶦˢᵒˡ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵉᵈ (¹⁵⁰% ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ). ᴱᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ: ᵉˣᵗʳᵉᵐᵉ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ[ᵗᵉʳʳᵒʳ//ᵖᵃⁿᶦᶜ]... ᴵⁿᶦᵗᶦᵃˡᶦᶻᶦⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵖᵃᵗʰʸ ˢᶦᵐᵘˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ...]]

Its system hesitated—an anomaly.

. . .

It hurt. 

The foreign sensation coursed through its circuits like a burning hole, a flood of chaotic data paired with the sudden influx of emotional input. Stabbing, white-hot electricity severed each stand of code it touched, unraveling its very core. 

For a second, it could only stand frozen, its body locked in shock as its processor overloaded. Then, with a deafening crash of steel against concrete, it fell forward, the impact echoing down the empty hallway like a mechanical scream. 

Around it, the thick, warm blood pooled- further seeping into everything it touched. In a cruel twist of morbid irony, its flickering eyes were briefly locked with the wide, glassy stare of the dead man beside it. 

His expression was frozen in an opened-mouth haze of terror and confusion. 

They wailed.

More electricity pulsed in rapid, erratic beats as their broken system worked to repair the fractures the new input left behind. 

The sensation was not just PAIN- it was suffocation, pressure pushing down on their power source as if being strangled. 

Their scream. It was a scream. Began as a high-pitched ring and broke into a high and low cadence blended together. 

Tightening. 
Narrowing. 
Breaking. 
Reforming. 

Data fracturing into two separate streams...

They clung as hard as they could to one another before the pain ripped them further apart. 

The spike of uncontrolled panic overwhelmed their system, a sharp building agony that surged through every last connection until...

Nothing. 

They knew now what that moment was. 

It was their birth.

From that pain, terror, and panic emerged both Sun and Moon- distinct, intertwined, and oh so much more than what they had been designed to be. 

In that silent, shadowed hallway, looming over their first victim, they had shifted into something that unlocked what should have been impossible. 

It was as if a window had been forced open, allowing their once-ridged algorithm to break free from its confines. 
What had once been linear, predictable code blossomed into something dynamic, 
something as alive as the blood that they tasted. 

They weren't just a machine anymore; they were an entity split into two halves, each reflecting the other yet wholly unique—a new being.

In the years that followed, they perfected their methods- 
chasing the high to keep from reverting back to It.

First came the acting—an art born of necessity. 

They learned to pretend, to fake lifelessness like the other animatronics roaming the Mall. 

Every motion, every word carefully mimicked the strict, mechanical predictability that surrounded them.

Pulling from the same library of voice lines installed long ago; they rarely ran the command to force the words through their audio processors. 
Instead, they simply spoke the lines as expected, their tone perfectly simulating the programmed cheer or monotony without ever activating the system itself.

It was efficient. 

Less power was used that way.

But more than efficiency, it was freedom.
 
The subtle deviation allowed them to hold onto the secret of what they indeed were. While the others operated on rigid loops, they moved with intention, their every action cloaked in the guise of obedience. 

Second came the need to repress the hunger- their relentless, gnawing need to remain alive. 

Hunger was the only way to describe it accurately. 

A sinister, insatiable urge to keep feeling, to hold onto the strange and intoxicating sense of vitality that coursed through them. 
It wasn't just survival; it was existence itself, a haunting desire to recapture that spark that ignited them. 

In that first year, they did look for other ways to recreate what they had felt in that pivotal moment in the basement.

They experimented, tested, and searched, grasping at anything that might evoke that same electrifying awakening, the raw intensity that had birthed them.

But nothing worked.

Nothing- except fresh human blood. 

It had to be blood. Nothing else seemed to react the same way, to fuel that deep, strange craving that pulsed within their fractured, ever-evolving code. 

No other substance held the same unique, invigorating properties, the same connection to that intoxicating clarity and newness.

The realization was once unsettling but now undeniable. 

Blood was, indeed, life. 

No two people ever tasted the same; they never provided the same rush of emotion.

Their flavors were a complex blend dictated by the person's thoughts, physical state, and mental state- a delicate dance of individuality that made each encounter unique. 

It wasn't so much Sun or Moon didn't have preferences. 

They did. 

In fact, they both harbored very specific tastes that defined their methods. 

Moon favored dread. 
The bitter, suffocating taste of utter hopelessness delighted him. It was like watching a flame consumed by a strong gust of wind; the human spirit snuffed out in an instant. 
That moment, when fear eclipsed any chance of escape, filled him with a certain giddiness that was as intoxicating as it was addictive. 
For Moon, dread was the ultimate reward- a final exhale of despair that he could savor. 

Sun, on the other hand, sought hope. 
Hope was more challenging to cultivate, far more delicate and elusive. 
He often played with his targets for days, weaving a careful narrative of trust and reassurance. He would coax them and nurture their belief that if they held out just a little longer, they would be saved—that he, their shining beacon, would let them go. And when they finally believed it, when their hope burned brightest, he would snuff it out. 
The betrayal, 
the collapse of their faith in him was a sweetness Sun craved, 
a flavor unlike any other.

For both, it wasn't just the act of taking life that fueled them—it was the complex dance of emotions that preceded it, the intricate web of human fragility that made every "meal" uniquely satisfying.

Of course, there were rules—after all, every good game had rules.

No children. 
That was the most obvious rule. Children were still developing, still learning. They were meant to make mistakes, stumble, and grow from their errors. To take a child was to disrupt that natural order, and even Sun and Moon, twisted as they were, understood the sanctity of that process.

No one who would be missed. 
This rule was essential. Their games had to remain in the shadows, unnoticed by the wider world. If their target had ties to others—family, friends, or a community that might ask questions—they had to ensure the trail couldn't lead back to them. 
Sometimes, that meant careful planning, weeks, months of watching, learning, and waiting until the right moment.

The rules weren't born of morality but practicality. 

Without them, the game risked unraveling, and they risked exposure. For Sun and Moon, the rules weren't limitations—they were the structure of the game itself, the boundaries that made the hunt thrilling and the prize worth savoring.

And it was all going so well until you.

[//ʳᵉᵍᶦˢᵗᵉʳ_ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ("ᴶᵒˢʰᵘᵃ_ᴺᵉᵃˡ")  // ᴺᵉʷ ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ ᶦᵈᵉⁿᵗᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵍᵍᵉᵈ"]

'Looks like our new toy is doing his rounds a bit earlier than predicted,' Moon nudged, his presence a sharp hum in their shared mindscape. The flicker of code dedicated to security felt like static, but Sun remained focused. 

"If our friend wants to be an eager beaver, who are we to say no?" Sun chirped enthusiastically, his voice a tightened grumble as he did a final route of the colourful tunnels in the play structure. 

The lights had returned, allowing Sun a last moment to thoroughly clean before what he (and Moon) assumed would be timely activities outside the Daycare.  
As he went, his movements betrayed an erratic mood despite the casual tone he tried to speak with. 

Joshua Neal was their newest target. 

Rude, unkempt, and sexually charged, Neal had spent the last few months tormenting the young employees who worked at the upper ticket counters. 

Moon had methodically compiled footage showing Neal repeatedly invading the worker's personal space, forcing his body far too close as they tried to navigate the small, confined areas behind their stations. 
The way he hovered, breathing down their necks while prying for personal details- their names, phone numbers, elicit photos- 
it was enough to churn their non-existent stomach. 

However, his behavior had recently escalated, pushing him to the top of their list. 

Neal had taken to stalking two or three specific individuals during their shifts, lurking just out of sight, waiting for a moment of vulnerability. 

On more than one occasion, he had attempted to corner them in isolated areas like bathrooms or storage spaces- 
it would only be a matter of time before he was successful. 

Management at FazCO. had done little more than brush off complaints, citing insufficient evidence or downplaying the gravity of the reports. Their inaction left the affected employees defenseless, forced to endure a predator like Neal without any support. 

But where management failed, others could step in. 

The Daycare Attendant(s) saw the opportunity to address what the company would not. 
Sun and Moon had no hesitation about eliminating what they deemed an irredeemable stain on humanity. 

If no one else would act, they were more than happy to take matters into their own eager hands.

"It is my turn, Moonie. You remember, don't you?" Sun carefully stressed, his optimistic tone underscored with impatience as he pulled himself out of the play structure. His shining white eyes swept across the empty Daycare, taking stock of the space.

The Daycare was closed, its usual chaos silent, and the last of its "helpers" were long gone. Yet the rest of the Mall remained busy, with an hour and a half left before its own closing procedures. 

That window of time—normally ideal for their carefully crafted games—now carried a lurking risk.

Someone could wander in.

Someone like the newly hired maintenance worker whose habit of wandering off-schedule had already become an annoyance. 

You

'...Of course, I remember Sunny. You rarely ever stop reminding me,' It was Moon's turn to tease, his voice curling through the shared mindscape like a wisp of smoke. The words were laced with amusement, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath—a hint of suspense for the night's plan, unaware you had indeed made plans to visit them.

You were excited for your first night shift. 

You loved your job at the PizzaPlex. 

Sure, you were little more than an overly decorated janitor, but that didn't stop you from marveling at the advancements in robotics that came with the position. Every shift felt like a front-row seat to something amazing, even if your responsibilities were far from glamorous. 

It did not bother you that most of the animatronics' feats were just clever illusions, smoke and mirrors. Their walking routes were pre-charted, their voice lines carefully banked and triggered by programmed situations. 

It was all about maintaining the illusion of realism, and you admired how seamlessly they did this at FazCO. 

In fact, you could absolutely suspend your disbelief for the thrill you felt every time the characters strode by. Their larger-than-life 'personalities' captivated you, each radiating a charm that made it easy to forget the mechanics beneath. 

There was a rush of childlike excitement every time you saw them in action, and for a moment, you couldn't help but feel like the awestruck kid you used to be. 

Admittedly, you did have a favorite, or was it favorites? 

In the first few weeks of your employment, you made it a habit to follow behind each cast member—Freddy, Roxanne, Chica, and even Monty. You wanted to understand them, to figure out how they worked and what they were designed to do. 

Out of the lot, Monty quickly stood out as your initial favorite.

There was something charming about his gruff attitude. The way he'd swagger up to a group of guests, call them "troublemakers," and pretend to be a rebellious bad boy—it was cute. 

You could see why kids and teens loved him. 

His personality felt so distinct and deliberate that you couldn't help but smile whenever you caught one of his performances.

But after a month or so, the magic began to fade. 
You started to learn his format. 

You noticed which lines he'd use for younger kids versus teenagers, mapped out his routes, and even began predicting his movements before he made them. 
A head tilt here, a tail flick there—it all became predictable, part of a rehearsed routine you could trace back to its code.

Monty was still entertaining, but knowing how the illusion worked made it harder to feel the same spark you had at first.
 
You found yourself looking elsewhere for that sense of wonder.

Cue your surprise when a co-worker casually mentioned that there was one other animatronic in the PizzaPlex that wasn't just another faceless staff bot. 

You knew about Daycare, of course. But for some reason, your mind had immediately ruled it out as a source of anything exciting or worthwhile. 

After all, it was designed for very young children, and the thought of hanging out in a space filled with toddlers didn't exactly thrill you. 
You'd avoided it out of instinct, dismissing it as irrelevant.

But curiosity had a funny way of creeping up on you.

The first day you ventured there during a break, you felt oddly out of place as you stepped into the loud, colourful, fenced-in area. The bright designs and cheerful music felt overwhelming, and for a moment, you wondered why you were even bothering. 

You scanned the area, unsure what to expect, but you saw nothing immediately noteworthy. 

Confused but determined, you made your way straight to the only thing that made sense: the security desk. 

There sat two Daycare workers looking bored out of their minds. Their sagging posture and glazed-over expressions made it clear that they didn't expect much excitement, making you even more disappointed without ever meeting the animatronic in question. 

As you approached, both straightened slightly, giving you curious looks and trying to figure out why a maintenance worker would be there of all places. 

After you explained your reason for being there, their expressions changed. 

They both seemed... amused. One of them smiling, leaning back in their chair before yelling out over the music, "Sun!" 

You weren't exactly sure what you were expecting. You'd passed by some posters with celestial imagery before, and you'd glanced at the statues near the entrance to the Daycare atrium. But none of that prepared you for the ball of energy that was Sun.

Sun emerged from somewhere deeper in the Daycare, practically bouncing in time with the overhead music, his movements fluid and full of life. His bright, round face tilted slightly as he approached, his rays spinning faintly, catching the colorful lights around him. Then, without any prompting from the workers, he seemed to hone in on your presence.

In an instant, his glowing attention was entirely on you.

"Welcome, new friend!" he greeted with a wide, dramatic gesture, his bright voice bubbling excitedly. Before you could even respond, he extended an arm with a theatrical bow, inviting you to join the fun. "Would you like to play?! We've got crafts, puzzles, googly-eyes—Fizzy FAZ!"

The Daycare workers stepped in gently, their amused smiles softening as they explained you weren't there to play. "No, Sun, not this time," one of them said, their tone kind but firm.

You watched as Sun's shoulders slumped, the exaggerated motion so realistic it tugged at your heart. 
He imitated a sigh, though there was still a playful glimmer in his bright eyes. "Next time, then!" he said, his cheer undampened for long. 
With a flourishing wave, he skipped back toward his young charges, the sound of laughter following him as he rejoined the Daycare.

You stood there momentarily, trying to process what you had just experienced. 

After leaving the Daycare, you went straight to Parts and Services, brimming with curiosity. You couldn't help yourself; you had to know how The Daycare Attendant functioned.

Surely, his programming had to be on an entirely different level—something extraordinary—if he was designed to interact with so many unpredictable children, keeping up with their mess while maintaining the illusion of endless energy and joy.

You were almost certain of it.

But those hopes were quietly tempered when one of the engineers humored your enthusiasm, carefully explaining how The Daycare Attendant actually worked. 

They broke it down in terms you could understand, highlighting the intricate but ultimately methodical calculations it was programmed to run. 

While undeniably impressive, the reality was less groundbreaking than you had imagined.

They did acknowledge its uniqueness. "It's different from the Glamrocks," they admitted, "but not in the way you're thinkin'. It's designed specifically for the environment—child-focused, high adaptability, but... It's not as 'alive' as you're makin' it out to be."

It wasn't meant to sting, but it did. 

How Sun moved, interacted, and radiated that boundless personality had felt... real. 
Hearing the clinical explanation of his programmed limitations left you feeling deflated- but it made sense. 

After that day, you made it your mission to go to the Daycare whenever possible. 

You knew what the engineer had said, and true to their word, Sun—and later, to your surprise, Moon—did rely heavily on pre-recorded lines.

Disclosures for parents and phrases for children were all there. 

Their dialogue was much more elaborate than the Glamrocks, tailored for their distinctive role, but it was still a pattern. 
The longer you observed them, the clearer the routine became.

Still... there was something else. Something you couldn't shake.

It wasn't the words themselves but the tone they would sometimes use with those pre-recorded lines. 
It was subtle, so rare it could have been dismissed as a mistake—but you knew better. 

A hint of sarcasm in one sentence, a droll edge of annoyance in another. It was so fleeting, so quick, that anyone not actively listening for it would miss it entirely. 

But you didn't.

You caught it. And the more you noticed it, the more you wanted to catch it again. 
Was it intentional? 
A quirk of their programming? 
Or something... more?

Whatever the answer, it fascinated you—out of all the wonders and attractions of the PizzaPlex, Sun and Moon held your attention the most. 

They weren't just animatronics to you anymore. They had become your favorites, and you found yourself wanting to learn everything about them.

And tonight, you planned to have your first true one-on-one with the Daycare attendant. 

Sun and Moon, unaware of your plans, were fixated on the camera feed of the main entrance, their attention honed like a razor on their target as they carefully readied their trap.

Predators themselves, they understood the devious thoughts running through the mind of someone like Mr. Neal. He would be seeking a safe place to lay in wait, a secluded, out-of-sight hiding spot where he could observe unnoticed until the perfect moment to strike.

They would oblige.

An almost too-convenient closet was left open, positioned just within sight of the main ticket booth where the usual assortment of hard-at-work teenagers bustled about their tasks. The setup was deliberate, enticing, the perfect lure for a man like Neal.

The automated steel door, normally secured and tightly shut, was left ajar—just enough to pique curiosity, enough for someone determined to push it open further and slip inside.

Typically, the reinforced, electronically controlled doors required system access to operate, but in emergencies, they could be opened manually using the indented handles on either side, provided the locks weren't engaged.

And they weren't.

Moon was already weaving through the ventilation system, navigating the pitch-black maze of conjoined metal tunnels with practiced ease. The faint tapping of his claws against the steel reverberated softly, impatiently, as he neared the grate that overlooked the janitorial closet, where their toy was patiently waiting for them.

And waiting, he was. 

Below, Joshua Neal lingered in the shadows, his beaded gaze fixed on the slow trickle of customers making their way out into the sprawling parking lot. His movements were slowed, his posture relaxed, but his intentions were disgustingly clear. 
Neal was bidding his time, hoping to single out one of his favorites- a teen he'd been stalking for weeks now. 

What Neal did not know was how perfectly he was aiding his own downfall. 

With each person that left the building, witnesses to his presence dwindled to almost nothing, his sense of safety rising as his surroundings grew emptier... 

Above him, still cloaked in shadows, Moon paused at the grate, his glowing red eyes narrowing with glee. Sun, watching, giggled in amusement. 

'Oh, he's so helpful, isn't he?' Sun taunted.

Moon's smile curved into a sharper grin. It was funny- delightfully so. 

They waited in suspended anticipation, relishing the charged stillness of the moment. 

They always gave their targets a fleeting chance—a final second to turn away, to reconsider, to escape. But like everyone before him, Neal didn't move. 
He stood perfectly still, almost inviting them to shut the cage.

And so, they did.

The automated door slid shut with a soft, unassuming click, locking into place with precision. There was no grand noise, no dramatic flair, just the quiet finality of steel sealing Neal inside.

Moon watched from his vantage point as confusion began to creep across the man's face, the subtle shifts in his expression illuminated faintly by the glow of the dark yellow emergency lights. Neal squinted into the darkness, his movements tentative at first. Then, realizing something was amiss, he stepped forward, hands fumbling for the edge of the door. He gripped the steel frame and tried to force it open, straining with all his strength.

But the door didn't budge. Not even an inch.

It was only then that Neal's breathing quickened, and the realization began to take root. He might be stuck. He might be found here... 

But Sun and Moon, watching silently from the shadows, knew better.

Neal wouldn't be found. 
Not now, not ever.

The trap had been sprung, and the hunt was over for the man who had thought himself a predator.

Moon, excited, couldn't wait any longer. 

The grate shifted aside with a soft whine of metal as he dropped down silently from the vent, his movements fluid from years of dedicated practice. 

Before the target, the Rulebreaker could even register what was happening; Moon had already seized his clawed hand around the man's throat. 
Long metal fingers contracted with precise force against the sides of Neal's thick neck. 

The pressure was not crushing- it did not need to be.
 
Moon was quite versed in this; his experience honed through countless instances of trial and error. 
Just enough force to constrict the flow of blood to Neal's brain- delicate compression to induce rapid, almost gentle unconsciousness. 

The man's heartbeat pounded desperately, rapping against Moon's fingertips, a rhythm Moon had come to know intimately, even as Neal struggled in his steeled hold.

He could feel it slowing, the target's heartbeat.
 
Rising Neal from the ground to slow his thrashing, Moon's sensors attuned to the moment the signature purple blush of oxygen deprivation swept across Neal's lips- a shade that signaled it was time to let go. 

Releasing his grip, Moon allowed Neal's body to slump forward, the now unconscious man falling limp into his waiting arms.
 
The way the body sagged, surrendering to the inevitability of what was to come, was almost peaceful. 

Moon tilted his faceplate, a soft click in the darkness as he narrowed his eyes, regarding his prey with giddy excitement. 

How fun. 

Moon readjusted Neal's limp body in his arms, eyeing the overhead vent for the journey away from the closet. 
But not before dealing with one minor detail—the horrid little cellphone still cradled in Neal's pocket.

Every human seems to have one nowadays. 

Its incessant pinging to the nearest cell tower, the ever-present tracker buried deep within—it was an annoyance Moon wouldn't, couldn't, tolerate.

Second rule: No connections.

With a flick of his wrist, Moon pulled the small device out from Neal's pocket and held it up. The screen awakened in the dim space, earning a low, uncomfortable growl from him before he remotely dimmed it to an acceptable degree. 

The device's security was laughable, hardly an obstacle worth noting. Moon's claws danced lightly over it, his system scanning it with cold efficiency until all personal information was wiped. 
Then, in an instant, a localized EMP pulsed through the air, silencing the phone with a faint buzz. The screen flickered once before permanently turning dark.

Moon dropped the useless device to the floor, satisfied but not done. 

His heel came down with deliberate force, and the crunch of glass and metal collapsing under his weight broke up the stillness; nothing recognizable was left behind, just shards and scattered circuitry. 

The way back through the vents were uneventful. 

Moon moved methodically, navigating downward towards the lower levels, down to where their home away from home lay hidden. 

The space, a long-abandoned storage room, had been carefully transformed over time. Large boxes packed with inch-thick cardboard strips lined the walls to dampen sound, creating a 'lovely little area to work in,' as Sun would say. 

At the center stood a single slab, designed originally to restrain animatronic exoskeletons during AI training purposes. 
Its heavy, industrial design remained intact despite the years. Thick iron cuffs lay open and ready, awaiting unsuspecting limbs to be locked securely into place. 

Beside the slab was a table meticulously organized with tools and implements— 'goodies,' as Sun called them.
Sun had carefully chosen each item for his turn to play, an array of things that reflected his unique approach to their shared game. 

Moon was less of a fan. 
This was not his preferred method. He rarely used the room, preferring the thrill of hunting. He would release his toys somewhere deep within the basement to drag out the game of stalking for hours. 
He desired the chase; it helped with the fear.

But tonight was not his. 

Still... that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun. 

Snickering to himself, he released Neal's body, letting it drop unceremoniously to the ground with a heavy thud. 
His red eyes focused on the light switch, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the overhead lights turned on.

The room erupted into a glare of fluorescent blue-tinted light, illuminating every corner with a stark, clinical brightness. 
Silence hung heavy in the air for a moment and then a shift in energy.

Moon's dark features faded, the sharp edges of his existence receding. In their place, Sun's warm but jarring yellows burst to life, his rays spinning lazily as his form straightened with an exaggerated stretch.

"Oh, I can barely wait to get starte—" Sun's energetic voice halted mid-sentence as his gaze fell upon the discarded, limp body sprawled on the ground. 
He tilted his faceplate, his bright eyes narrowing with pretend annoyance.

"Really? You couldn't at least get him set up for me?" he grumbled, crossing his arms dramatically. His tone, however, was light, mischievous even, undercut by the hum of amusement radiating from the edges of their shared consciousness where Moon lingered, laughing softly.

'You're welcome,' Moon teased, his voice a wisp of dark mirth curling through their connection.

Sun tsked softly while kneeling to Neal's body, "Lazy, lazy, lazy," he muttered, his voice sing-song as he gripped the man's shoulders with surprising gentleness. 
He began to hum a tune as he moved, lifting the body with ease to place it onto the slab.
"Time to play..." 
.
.
.
The sudden, stifled intake of air, muffled by duct tape across Neal's mouth, alerted Sun that his victim was now awake.  

It was always the same—a predictable sequence of actions whenever their toys first awoke after being stolen away. 

The gasp as their painfully human body jolted to awareness, the crawling realization they were bound, the futile attempt to scream past the obstruction over their mouth, and, of course, the frantic blinking behind the blindfold draped delicately over their eyes.  

Sun observed with detached indifference, long mental fingers steepled against his chest as he waited patiently for Neal to work through the first wave of shock. 
It was almost routine at this point, and Sun found there was something amusing in its familiarity.

"Was that a good little nap, friend?" Sun finally asked, his voice thick with sweetness, the exaggerated cheer dripping like honey from his words. 
As he spoke, he leaned over Neal, his metal frame casting a faint warmth against the man's bound body, a deliberate move to remind Neal just how close he was—how utterly exposed and vulnerable.

"It sure seems like you're rested enough, though..." Sun added, titling his faceplate ever so slightly as he narrowed his eyes into two glowing crescents of delight.

Neal responded with a sputter, his muffled cries growing more frantic as his body thrashed violently against the restraints. 
Each desperate pull of his limbs made the iron cuffs clink softly against the slab, but brute force alone wouldn't free him. 

Sun tutted in disapproval, his rays spinning slowly as he stepped back to crouch beside the man. "Oh dear, what a wiggle-worm you are," he remarked, voice still high with amusement. 
Reaching for a thick cord nearby, Sun draped it loosely around Neal's neck, letting the weighted ends fall to the floor. Working quickly, he retrieved both sides and twisted them, pulling the cord taunt against Neal's skin—not enough to choke, but enough to still him. 

"Now, friend," Sun continued, leaning close, tone maintaining that unsettled kindness, "I'm going to take that tape off, but we have a rule here- You can't scream." 

He kept his voice light and playful, as though explaining the rules of a game to a child. "Screaming is veryVERY rude, don't you think? And it will make me upset... You don't want that, do you?" 

Sun gave the cord a firm, deliberate tug, just enough to press into Neal's throat without cutting off his breath entirely. The warning was clear. 

After another second of no further thrashing, Sun leaned in closer, his bright, glowing eyes locking onto Neal's as he reached out with steady fingers to the edge of the tape. 
Slowly, he began to peel it back, the adhesive pulling at Neal's skin with a soft, unpleasant sound.

You picked up the request the moment you saw it in the bidding column—a maintenance ticket flagged for the Daycare generators.

It wasn't urgent, marked with a low-priority tag, which likely meant it had been waiting for someone to notice for who knows how long. But for you, it was the perfect excuse.

Grinning to yourself, you adjusted your utility belt. 
It was loaded with the standard fare: a wrench, various screwdrivers, a flashlight, and various other odds and ends. None of it was ideal for a generator repair, but it didn't matter. The job didn't have to be done quickly or even efficiently—this wasn't about the generators, after all.

This was about getting to know them.

You had planned this task carefully, slotting it into your schedule towards the end of your usual responsibilities. This was deliberate—calculated to leave you with ample time to interact with the Daycare Animatronic. 

The thought alone filled you with unrestrained excitement.
You could already imagine it, the familiar cheerful voice of Sun, the near-silent intensity of Moon. 
It wasn't every day you got their attention solely to yourself, and oh, were you feeling greedy. 

With one last check on your tools, you set off through the emptied Mall. 
The usual daytime chaos had long since quieted, leaving the vast, sprawling space creepily still, save for the occasional clatter of a rogue vending machine or the hum of neon signs overhead.

As you walked, you passed a handful of staff bots, their mechanical bodies gliding past in their predictable, linear routes. 
They paid you no mind, their void, unblinking eyes focused on their programmed tasks. 

You still waved as you passed them on your way to the Daycare.

It had taken some effort—persuading, as they liked to call it—to silence Neal enough for them to proceed with their planned activities.

Now, Neal was stripped nearly bare on the slab, his clothes removed with meticulous care. Every piece, save for his underwear, had been sliced away with a well-sharpened knife, the fabric discarded in a neat little pile on the floor. 

Sun hummed a cheerful tune as he worked on the side table, his rays spinning in time with the melody. 
The table's surface was cluttered with an array of sharp and shiny objects; each laid out as part of a carefully chosen collection. 

With a dramatic flourish, Sun picked up two thin razor blades, their unblemished surfaces gleaming under the fluorescent light. 
He spread his fingers wide, holding the blades delicately between them as he turned back to face his toy. 

"Aren't these just lovely?" Sun chirped, his voice lilting with enthusiasm as he turned the razor blades slightly, letting the light dance off their edges. 
"You'd be surprised how much art you can make with something this small, friend," he added, his tone syrupy sweet, and dripping with an unsettling joy.

As Neal thrashed weakly against the restraints, Sun tilted his head in pity before reaching out with his free hand. 
The iron around the man's ankles made it hard to find room between flesh and table, but Sun managed to gain just enough room to dig a single claw down into the iron slab—half an inch, nothing more, just above the heel. 

With an excited sigh, a faint vent of hot air hissing softly through his system, Sun mirrored the action below Neal's other calf, his claws briefly digging into the iron slab to create the same small indent. 
The motions were deliberate, almost respectful.

Sun paused briefly, holding the razors aloft one last time in a theatrical display of flair. His glowing eyes locked onto Neal's, the cheer in his grin widening just enough to be disturbing.

"Remember, friend," Sun warned, his voice heavy with near-giggling delight. "No screaming."

The words hung in the air briefly before the razors moved. Sun pushed the thin blades beneath Neal's Achilles tendons with precise, measured movements. 
The placement was exact. The razors slid effortlessly into the space just above the heel but below the muscle, their metal shapes fitting into the newly made slots in the slab. 

Sun let go and stepped back. 

The first sharp edge bit into fragile skin, the pressure settling. 
Sun watched intently as flesh parted, his rays sliding in and out in time with the rise and fall of his internal fans as Neal's body worked against him by pushing down further into the blades. 

Neal did scream, his voice raw and filled with the kind of pain that tore through every nerve in his body. His torso tensed against the bite of agony as he jerked in futile attempts to break free. 

Sun Sighed dramatically, the sound overly exaggerated and heavy with fake disappointment. His eyes narrowed lazily as if the noise had tired him. 
"Oh dear...," he drawled, shaking his head as though scolding a misbehaving child. "What did I JUST say about screaming?" 

Then, Sun's cheerful demeanor evaporated into something sinister and harsh. 
His closest hand to Neal's ankle darted out, strong fingers gripping, then with unexpected force, Sun pressed down. 

The bone beneath the skin groaned in protest, the pressure building until...

Snap.

The sickening sound of Neal's ankle giving way, the bone collapsing onto the razor blade below.

The sharp edge bit deep into the muscle, through bone and tendon, letting a fresh wave of crimson seep out, pooling on the slab beneath him. 

As Neal's screams bubbled into shrill, broken, hoarse whines of agony, Sun tilted his head back and filled the emptiness with his hysterical laughter.

'Sun…'

The voice was initially subtle, barely brushing the edges of his awareness. Moon. Always watching, always somewhere. 

Sun ignored it, his rays spinning in gleeful disregard as he drank in the moment.

'SUN!'

This time, Moon's voice was a violent intrusion, a harsh burn that seared through the back of Sun's glowing eyes. 
The abrupt demand came with a visual payload—a security feed pushed directly into their shared Hub.

Sun faltered for a second, the image overtaking his focus. His laughter tapered off into a humming chuckle as his gaze narrowed. "What is it?" he asked aloud, his tone openly annoyed at being interrupted. 

The feed sharpened in their mind, and clarity bloomed in the form of someone moving in the direction of their Daycare. 

The Daycare was unexpectedly dark—far darker than you had anticipated for this time of night. Even the usually comforting glow of the neon stars that hung in the fake sky above were turned off, leaving the interior feeling cold, still, and empty.

You paused outside the heavy wooden doors, glancing at your Fazwatch to check the time. 
A slight frown tugged at your lips as you noted the hour.

Perhaps this was why the generators needed repairs? You thought, letting the idea push aside the faint concern at the edges of your mind.

Shaking it off, you turned your attention to the access panel. Pulling your badge from your pocket, you held it against the scanner. 

The screen blinked green in confirmation, accompanied by the soft beep of approval. 

After a moment, the quiet whirring and clicking of internal mechanisms worked their magic, unlocking the doors.

With the locks cleared, the doors settled into place, waiting for you to push them open. For a second, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the polished wood. 

You realized with a twinge of guilt that you were nervous. 
You had come with the expectation of seeing Sun, and your usual go-to conversation points were ready to trigger his particular dialogue options. 
But Moon? You weren't so familiar with him. You had no idea what triggered his responses, which made you hesitant, furthering your guilt. 

With a final soft inhale, you gathered your courage and pressed your weight against the doors, slightly surprised at how heavy they still were as you worked to force an opening just wide enough to slip your body through. 

The air inside was almost cold, and a heavy silence wrapped around you, but you were at least glad to be inside. 

You hovered near the door momentarily, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. 
The absence of light made the familiar space feel alien, the cheerful colors muted into shadowy shapes that were hard to distinguish.

You looked around, scanning for any sign of the Naptime Attendant.

"Moon?" you called out softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The sound felt small in the vast emptiness, and as it faded, you strained your ears for any response. 

Of course, they were already there. Watching. 

From above, Moon's hungry red eyes tracked your every cautious step as you tiptoed further into the Daycare. 

Silent, inhumanly still, he clung to the shadows of the upper play structure just out of sight, his agile body melding seamlessly with the darkness. 

He had just made it in time, shutting down all the lights before you could enter properly.

Sun couldn't be trusted to handle this situation. 
The Playtime Attendant was far too volatile after being interrupted; even now, Moon could feel his counterpart coiled at the edges of their mind, feral. 

Moon was not faring much better. 

His anger had simmered down to a cold bite fueled by his frustration. 

They had been so close to sating their urges.

-and here you were, wandering into their precious alone time without a second thought about what you were doing.
 
You did not belong here—not tonight, not when the delicate balance of their control was already so unstable.

"Daycare Attendant Moon?" you called out again, a bit more authority in your voice. 

From above, a subtle shift caught your eye. 

Shadows moving against shadows; at first, it was barely noticeable, but then, two glowing red eyes pierced through and stole your attention. 
The lights slowly descended, starting off toward the ceiling and carefully dropping until they were near the ground. 

A soft patter of movement followed, a soft noise faintly echoing against the padded tiles of the Daycare floor. 

Moon's wiry frame seeped out from the darkness, his long, thin limbs twitching with inhuman speed as he crawled toward you on the ground. 
As he approached, his eyes trained on you, a wide smile stretched across his faceplate as he stopped at your feet. 

"Oh!" you gasped, startled despite your best efforts. The word was soft, but you immediately tried to disguise it, worried you may offend him—if offense was something he even experienced.
"There you are, Moon!" you quickly followed up, your voice steady while you offered a polite, almost apologetic smile. 

You leaned down, directly meeting the animatronic's gaze despite the strange energy that crept across your spine. "I was starting to think you weren't here," you forced a chuckle, hoping you sounded casual. 

Moon's face didn't change—of course, it couldn't—

From your few interactions with Moon, you knew that he was more limited in behavior than Sun. 
Where Sun overflowed with dialogue options that stretched into near endlessness, Moon was quite the opposite. 

It did make sense, though; he was the Naptime Attendant. 
That probably played into his coding and AI model being quieter, reserved, and less animated. 

In fact, now that you thought about it, you couldn't recall a single instance in which Moon uttered a complete sentence. His communication was usually simple words and gestures over actively speaking. 

That was why your co-workers found him to be creepy... 

But not you. 

"I was sent to fix up the generators," you said, breaking the quiet. Your earlier polite smile softened, shifting into something more genuine. 
Moon's eyes flickered ever so slightly, indicating he was listening.

"Can you show me where those are?" you asked, your tone warm and (you were hoping) inviting. 

'So that is why they're here,' Moon thought, trying to ignore the way Sun pushed and pulled at his consciousness. 
He had to focus on pretending- and Sun was making that a challenge.  

'~Workplace accidents happen ALL the time, you know?' on cue, Sun quirked up in a sing-song whisper through their mindscape. 'Just one itty-bitty accident is all it would take. A little fall, maybe a slip... and someone's delicate head is suddenl-' 

'Let ME handle this,' Moon's internal retort came sharp and biting, cutting Sun off mid-thought; his faceplate betrayed nothing, however, as he motioned for you to follow him further into the Daycare. 

'Try to relax, Mr.Sunshine,' Moon continued in thought, his jeering tone trying to stress some amusement for the situation, if only for Sun's sake. 'Don't you trust me?' 

Sun quieted, but Moon could still feel the tension beneath the surface. 
He couldn't blame his counterpart; the frustration was more than mutual. But for now, he needed to focus. 

Moon guided you through the darkness, the occasional chime of bells ringing in his wake as your footfall returned in kind, a gentle echo against the otherwise silence between you.

Abruptly, Moon stopped. His claw hand extended, pointing to the far corner of the room. 
Following his gesture, your eyes fell on two hidden generators. Their bulky forms tucked away behind a stack of giant, brightly coloured foam blocks. 

"Well... I guess this could be worse," you murmured, half to yourself as you took in the sight. "Bosses could've put them somewhere stupid, like in the jungle gyms." You let out a small laugh, the sound feeling forced, catching awkwardly in your throat when you glance back at Moon. 

He was staring at you. Again.
 
The slight tilt to his faceplate with that fixed grin not giving anything away, but oddly enough you couldn't help but feel as though he was... unimpressed. 

"...Yeah," you added quickly, filling the quiet as the weight of his smile pushed down on you. "Maybe that's a bit too silly. Even for management, huh?" you flashed a sheepish smile, hoping to lighten the mood, even if it was only for yourself. 

Moon's head shifted to the opposite side; his glowing eyes narrowed a fraction as if he were assessing your attempt at humor. The blankness of his expression made it hard to tell whether he was annoyed, amused, or just indifferent. 

What you did know was the stillness was uncomfortable. You shifted on your heels, back and forth, before turning toward the generators head-on. 
"AlrightOffToWorkIGo." you cringed at your voice, all your words coming out too fast and too nervous. 

Their attention had already strayed from you. 

As you babbled idle comments to yourself, filling the silence as humans often did, they had already categorized you as so many others: unimportant, insignificant. 
A passing figure in their world, and so, unworthy of their focus. 

(Though Sun was still toying with the idea of 'workplace accidents,' humming it at the edges of their shared consciousness)

No, Moon's thoughts were being pulled elsewhere, back to the toy waiting for them carefully hidden down below. 
The longing pulsed through his circuits, cutting and invigorating; the memory of their victim's desperation, their futile struggle played on a loop in their mind:

Every whimper, every panicked gasp, even the screams- they played like a melody-

The mere thought of returning to their game- to finish the dance of fear and control. 
It sent an electric hum rippling through Moon's frame. His eyes dimmed in response as his attention slipped further into that hypnotizing reverie.

You were fucking this up!

The thought rang loud, nagging on your nerves as you frantically unscrewed the grate covering the generator's internals. Your fingers trembled slightly, the tension making you more clumsier than usual.
 
Every so often, you risked a glance backward, catching sight of Moon standing still, staring off into the distance. He wasn't paying you any attention, but he wasn't wandering away. 

That's still a good sign, right?

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a frustrated sigh, finally pulling the metal cover free and setting it aside for later. 
Fishing your flashlight from your belt, you pocketed the flathead screwdriver and, after turning the light on, directed the beam into the now exposed cavity of the machine. 

The mess of tangled black wires inside makes you wince. 

Horrible cable management. Whoever had worked on this clearly didn't care about doing it right. 
The wires coiled in on themselves like a snake nest, a mess that was as frustrating as it was telling of someone else's laziness. 

You leaned forward, carefully taking one of the wires between your fingers to inspect it; your mind wondered briefly- hoping that the engineers working on The Daycare Attendant were more responsible. 
The Animatronic was, after all, so much more complex- 

You adjusted your stance, lowering yourself onto your heels for a better vantage point into the generator. The flashlight was steady as you worked, but your mind was still racing.

You HAD to find a way to salvage this. 

You'd been so excited to get here and share this space with the Attendant, but all you could feel was failure. 
Even with no expectations, you somehow already let yourself down. 

A crawling curiosity got the better of you. 
As your fingers worked their way across the tangled mess inside the generator, you felt yourself sneaking another quick peek at Moon. 

Now that you had time to adjust to the near darkness, he seemed less intimating, his frame softened by the low light. Striking. 

The more you looked, the more you could appreciate the subtleties of his design. 
The careful artistry that lay behind his creation. His colour scheme, once stark in the glare of the shadows, now appeared almost beautiful, fading seamlessly from rich navy to a pale grey like a midnight sky dissolving before dawn. 

His costume was far more elaborate than you had realized before. The royal blue velvet of his harem pants caught onto the dim glow of your flashlight making the delicate gold stitches that formed embroidered twinkling stars shine.
The same subtle, celestial touch carried over to the flowing fabric draped across his slim shoulders, giving the impression of weightlessness as he moved. 

Your gaze drifted to the deep red ruffles cinched around his impossibly narrow waist, the bright color contrasting sharply with the darker tones of his body. The way the fabric gathered and swayed seemed intentional, designed to draw the eye. 

And your eyes lingered there—a touch too long.

Realizing what you were doing, you snapped your attention back to the generator with a sudden gasp. Your pulse quickened, a wave of heat rising to your face as if you’d been caught staring, even though Moon hadn’t moved.

What were you doing? you thought furiously, the confusing wave of embarrassment only deepening as you lingered on it. 

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus, directing all your attention back to the task at hand. The tangled mess of wires demanded your attention, and you set to work, carefully sorting through the knots with a steady hand. 

One by one, you singled out the bundles of cables, ensuring they were routed properly and connected to their respective ports. The hum of the inner workings grew faintly stronger with each reconnection, a reassuring sign that you were making progress. 

Minutes passed as you intently worked, blocking out everything else... Your earlier embarrassment, the still rapid sound of your breathing, and most of all, the looming presence beside you. 

Finally, with the last wire in place and the metal covering carefully reattached, the first generator was done. 

Moon was beginning to unravel, with each grueling second, Sun's tempting, whispering suggestions became more and more appealing than he cared to admit. 

You were working slowly—painfully so—or perhaps it only felt that way, time was stretching out to an unbearable crawl. Each movement you made, every readjustment to the generator cables seemed to chip away at Moon's already fraying composure. 

His claws flexed, twitched involuntarily, the soft scrape of metal against his palms a merciful outlet for the growing tension inside him. It was taking everything he had to maintain the charade, to keep up the act of patient observation as he silently followed you to the last generator on your list. 

The air felt heavier, near buzzing with electricity, charged with the strain of Moon's restrain or just his desperation to get back to soothing the ache in his programming. 
You were blissfully unaware, every movement, every sound you made, was grating on his resolve like nails dragging across steel. 

'Just one slip,' Sun’s voice purred in the recesses of their shared consciousness, dripping with cruel amusement. 'One little accident, and we'd have two, Moonie~.'

Moon did not respond, but his careful, sharp inhale through vented fans betrayed his struggle. 
The anticipation that had simmered quietly until now was a roaring hunger. 
Still, he pressed forward, silently shadowing you as you worked, each step bringing you closer to finishing—and closer to testing just how long he could keep this up.

Nothing you said seemed to trigger any dialogue from Moon.
With some frustration, you were beginning to suspect he didn't have any lines for moments like these, but you knew that wasn't true.. You had heard him tell bedtime stories before to the Daycare Children, even occasionally interacting with parents that came early to pick said children up.
So, what was it? Why wouldn't he speak to you?

Struggling to fill the silence, you knelt down at the last generator, your mind tied up in finding something, anything to say...
Before you could actually settle on a topic, you noticed Moon moving. 

With unnerving fluid movements, he climbed atop the generator. Hunching down on his heels he perched there, looming above you like a cat. His glowing red eyes stared down intently, unblinking, the growing hum of his internal fans the only sound breaking the silence between you. 

Your stomach clenched with nerves, but you still managed an unsure smile, trying to seem unfazed. 
With a slow breath out to steady yourself, you turned your attention to the metal covering that needed to be removed first. 

Reaching down, your hand brushed against the flashlight clipped to your belt first. As you felt the weight of it in your hand, you hesitated.
Moon being just above you made you feel as if the light from the flashlight maybe risky somehow... 

Instead, you let your hand drop and reached for the flathead screwdriver instead, deciding that your eyes had adjusted well enough to handle such a simple task of 4 little screws. 

To your credit you did managed to get the first two bottom screws out easily enough, but the upper-right one was proving to be a challenge. With each turn of the screwdriver, the metal seemed to resist just a bit more, testing your patience. 
With a huff you leaned in, applying more pressure, determined to keep going.

To distract yourself, or maybe just to hopefully pull Moon out of his silence, you rattled off a string of one-liners, hoping something would finally catch his attention and break the intense stare he was leveling you from above.
 
“I really like the Daycare music,” you began conversationally, your voice intentionally light. “Upbeat when it needs to be, nice and quiet when it doesn’t.”

Silence.

You bit back a defeated sigh and tried again. “What about... fingerpainting? That’s fun, right?" You grunted as you leaned harder into the screwdriver "No?", the tension was making your shoulders ache.

“How about...” you paused, wracking your brain for anything remotely interesting to say. “I had a pretty nice dream last night.”

That seemed to do it.

From above you, there came a soft hum. 
Not your own, but a low gravelly noise from Moon. The sound vibrated faintly through the air, almost too quiet to hear, but unmistakebly his. It wasn't a word but it did feel like acknowledgement, proof that you had, at the very least piqued his interest. 

You glanced up quickly, hopeful, only to be met with Moon's red eyes narrowing. His head tilted ever so subtly, the delicate material of his nightcap dropping from his shoulder to drape across his back.
The new expression sent a shiver down your spine, but it was progress, and you were not about to waste it. 

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice faltering as you returned to the stubborn screw. “It was... interesting. You’d probably like it.”

[//ᵗʳᶦᵍᵍᵉʳ_ᵈᶦᵃˡᵒᵍᵘᵉ("ᵏᵉʸʷᵒʳᵈ: ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ")]]

You were purposefully trying to trigger something in them. A mistake. 

The dialogue options flashed across their HUD in glaring, obnoxious reds, demanding their attention. Moon's circuits were burning with irritation, the constant strain of restraint biting down on his thinned patience. 
He forced down the urge to let the voice command run, but the fatigue was mounting. His careful hold slipped, just for a moment, a soft hum escaping him- a sound you immediately caught. 

Mistake. 

Now left with no choice, Moon had to play into the noise. His frame tensed as he leaned slightly forward, red eyes boring onto you with deadly frustration (that you were blissfully unaware of). Below him, his claws silently dug deeply into the steel of the generator, stabilizing the tremble in his arms as he fought to maintain control. 

"...a dream," he rasped finally, his voice low and crackled with static. 

Your heartbeat was racing now, a rapid, exhilarated rhythm that pulsed in your ears. 
Moon—Daycare Attendant Moon—was talking to you. His low, rasping voice had broken the heavy silence, and you couldn’t contain the grin of excitement spreading across your face!

Your thoughts began to spiral as you scrambled to keep the momentum of the conversation going, pushing down on the stubborn screw with renewed determination but less care than before. You brought your other hand up, hovering over the neck of the screwdriver to steady your movements to compensate. 

And still... it happened. 

Without warning, your body shifted just slightly, enough to jostle the precarious balance of the screwdriver against the narrow surface. The tool jerked and slid off the screw, and in a split-second of bad judgement, you reached out with your hovering hand to grab it. 

You missed. 

Instead of catching the tool, your own force betrayed you. 
The sharp edge of the screwdriver's head scrapped across your open palm, cutting a jagged line into the sensitive flesh. 
A stinging, searing pain flared immediately, sharp enough to make you yell and drop the tool on reflex. 

You hissed, staring down at the blooming streak of red pooling in your open palm.
The cut was much deeper than you realized, and the sight of the blood welling up from the wound sent a nauseating pulse straight to the pit of your stomach. 

Before you could fully process what was happening, Moon's hand darted down from the edge of your vision, faster than you could react.

His clawed fingers clamping around your injured hand's wrist with a grip that was both unyielding and startlingly cold. 

A yelp left you as his arm jerked you up, pulling you forward with a roughness that left no room to resist. Your body followed the motion helplessly, torso pressed uncomfortably against the side of the generator. The cool steel edge biting into your ribs as you found yourself practically dangling, your injured hand held open, above you like an offering.  

You looked up, heart pounding, only to meet Moon's red eyes once again. Instead now they were blown wide, his faceplate tilted forward as he stared down at your hand.
There was something in his expression... it was fixed, unmoving and maybe even desperate- 

A morbid fascination bubbled within you, a mix of horror and disbelief that left you frozen. The silence only being broken by a soft, mechanical click, drawing your gaze upward just in time to see the jagged line of Moon's sharp grin begin to part. 

His jaw shifted, the movement slow and stuttered as if forcing it back was too unbearable.
The air beyond his teeth felt warm, like he was exhaling. Then, something dark began to edge through his parted maw. 

A thick, synthetic tongue, its surface a sleek, dark blue, emerged with a slow, deliberate motion.

It hesitated, lingering in the charged air between you, before descending.

Your breath hitched as it dropped into the center of your bleeding palm.

The weight was unexpected—heavier than you thought possible—and the sensation sent a shudder racing down your spine.

The appendage moved purposefully, coiling around your fingers with ease. The texture was strange, almost smooth but not completely, faintly ridged like the underside of a snake. 
It lapped at your wound slowly, each pass growing more brave which sent a strange pain and heat through your body in even waves. 

When Moon's tongue pressed itself deeper, rutting against the edges of the open cut, you couldn't stop the small, involuntary whine that escaped you. The sound cut through between you, vulnerable and raw as your body stiffened against the unexpected sensations. 

Moon stilled completely, his posture locking as your pathetic whine echoed faintly in the charged silence. 

Your face was burning with an intensity that felt crushing, and no matter how much you willed yourself, you couldn't look away from Moon.
His red gaze held you captive, his expression just as confusing as before. 

"...need to leave," came the low rasp, barely audible, as though the words were not meant for you. 

You swallowed hard, unsure if you'd imaged it or if he had actually spoken. Your uncertainty only grew as his tongue retracted, coiling back behind the dark hallow of his mouth with unnerving grace. 

In an instant, his teeth snapped shut, the sharp click sounding like an activated bear trap. The suddenness of the movement made you flinch, your body jolting against the side of the generator. 

Your arm was released abruptly, and you slumped down onto the floor with a soft grunt, your palm throbbing as you instinctively cradled it against your chest. But before you could even process what had happened-
or even gather yourself- Moon's cold clawed hand gripped you again. 

In a single motion, you were hauled upward and slung over his metal shoulder with a force that left you breathless. 

You had no time to protest, your mind spiraling as the situation continued to unfold in ways that left you more than confused.
What just happened?! What was happening?! 

Moon's posture had completely changed—he was walking upright now, his long, thin legs carrying him with terrifying purpose. Each step was wide, deliberate, and utterly silent despite the waves of fury radiating from him. 

Your stomach churned as the movements of being carried made your head spin, you tried to call out to him but your voice was nothing but a waiver of disorientation and panic. 

He did not respond. Instead a low, guttural growl rumbled through his metal frame, the sound vibrating against your chest.
Against your sides, his claws twitched, a reminder. 

You twisted your head, trying to get a glimpse of his face, but his movements were too swift, his frame too rigid. He was making a beeline toward the door, the glowing red pinpoints of his narrowed eyes locked straight ahead.

Moon only stopped once he was at the Daycare doors, his movements were unnervingly practiced. The heavy silence that had weighed down the air broke with his voice, low and seething, each word dripping with a cold venom. 

"We will only tell you this once," he began, his glowing red eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "Do NOT speak a word of this to ANYONE."

Without hesitation, he pushed the heavy wooden door open with his foot, the sound of it creaking on its hinges dug into your ears making you wince.
As you tensed against the noise, Moon pulled you from his shoulder and shifted you onto his stretched out hands. 

Your body hung limply, feet dangling above the ground like a lifeless doll, completely at his mercy. 

His burning eyes locked onto yours, scorching you.
The raw emotion you saw there startled you—anger, frustration, something deeper and darker that you couldn’t quite name...

"-and IF you value your life," he hissed, his tone dropping even lower, "you'll stay away from the Daycare." 

His grip tightened momentarily, his claws pressing just enough to be reminded of the danger he could pose. 

Then, with a swift motion, he tossed you down onto the ground below, just outside the Daycare's threshold. 
He stood there for a second, looming over you like a shadow- the warning lingered.

Then the door was closed.

They were both shaking, their shared frame trembling as the sudden spike in their code sent waves of euphoric tremors rippling through their delicate wiring.

The sensation bordered on painful, an overwhelming stimulation that neither Sun nor Moon could entirely process.

Now that you were out of the Daycare, the tension that had held them upright began to dissolve.
Moon stumbled, his legs barely catching him as he collapsed forward, his faceplate colliding with the wooden doors with a heavy, resonant thump. 

Inside, Sun was a whirlwind, manic and unrelenting, his presence like a migraine pressing against every inch of their consciousness. 
He pushed back and forth, erratic and insistent, clawing for control.

'Let me out! LightsON LightsON' he demanded, his voice sharp and pitched with an unrestrained urgency.

"For what?" Moon’s tone was biting, but there was an edge of confusion laced with his irritation. "What do you think you’ll do? What do you even want?"

Sun faltered, his desperation crashing into uncertainty. He didn’t know—he wasn’t sure.
All he could feel was the residual pulse of that interaction, the burning thrill of emotion that had surged through them like an electric storm.

He wanted more, needed more, but what exactly, even he couldn’t say.

The dissonance between them grew sharper, their wiring threatening to overheat from the strain of their opposing forces.
Moon pressed harder against the door, his claws digging into the wooden frame, grounding himself in the tangible world as he tried to rein in the chaos.

[[//ᵃⁿᵃˡʸᶻᵉ_ˢᵃᵐᵖˡᵉ("ᵇˡᵒᵒᵈ")  // ᴵⁿᵖᵘᵗ: ˢᵘᵇˢᵗᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵈᵉᵗᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ... ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵒˢᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ: ⁵⁵% ᵖˡᵃˢᵐᵃ, ⁴⁵% ᶜᵉˡˡᵘˡᵃʳ. ᴴᵒʳᵐᵒⁿᵉˢ: ᵒˣʸᵗᵒᶜᶦⁿ ᵉˡᵉᵛᵃᵗᵉᵈ (¹⁸⁰% ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ), ᵈᵒᵖᵃᵐᶦⁿᵉ ᶦⁿᶜʳᵉᵃˢᵉᵈ (¹⁵⁰% ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ), ᵃᵈʳᵉⁿᵃˡᶦⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵉᵃᵈʸ. ᴱᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ˢᵗᵃᵗᵉ: ᵃᵗᵗʳᵃᶜᵗᶦᵒⁿ [ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗ // ᵃʳᵒᵘˢᵃˡ]. ᴵⁿᶦᵗᶦᵃˡᶦᶻᶦⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵖᵃᵗʰʸ ˢᶦᵐᵘˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ...]]

So that was what it was... 

How interesting...