Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Well. The show’s over. Everyone, for the most part, made it out unscathed. All of the former contestants got to rejoice at the opportunity for a new life. The only problem is that now, all that's left to do is live it, and for Goo, that was easier said than done. Sure, being on Inanimate Insanity could be stressful, dangerous, and unpleasant at times, but if there was one upside, it was that the forced proximity gave him plenty of chances for interactions with his peers. Now that the cameras had stopped rolling, everyone was free to interact strictly with their primary friends, leaving him behind without a group to call his own. Goo had never been able to understand why he seemed to repel others; he’d been nothing but friendly and cheerful, but that was ever enough for him to really stick with someone. It wasn't until the truth was written right on his corpse that he fully comprehended the problem: He was inconsistent. Or, “Incon-sistant” as it was misspelled. At first, the word choice was a bit too abstract to fully grasp, it didn't seem like an object-inspired pun (unless it was about his consistency as a goo not staying the same, which, to his knowledge, wasn't accurate), but as these new days of freedom continued, he started to truly realize what it meant. 'Inconsistent', 'Not staying the same throughout', 'Not compatible or in keeping with', he had always been so confusing to the others due to his metaphors and overall personality; no one could understand him, and that's what kept him from making friends. It was how he was made, how MePhone4 intentionally made him, and it was out of his power to fix. What may have been compelling to outside viewers was now his life, and he couldn’t help but feel his cheer wash down the drain as he was stuck with the consequences of his creation.

Maybe they should have felt comforted by no longer being the lone artificially made contestant, but that knowledge did little to make Bot feel better. Sure, they were in similar boats, but at least the other contestants were created to be their own fully-fledged individuals; they may have debuted as stereotypes, but they were virtually indistinguishable from regular objects. The same couldn't be said for Bot, they had started as nothing more than a pale imitation of a dead contestant, and despite developing a unique sense of self, they still weren’t alive; they were only a robot. Ever since they'd come face to face with the robots Springy had made of them and the finalists, Bot couldn't stop themself from pondering their humanity. Objectity? Whatever. Putting aside the fact that they were, on the surface, more lifelike, what was the real difference between them and the springbots? Was it that Bot was designed to think of themself like a real person? Thoughts like these made them wish for at least one chance to talk to MePhone4 again, as he understood being a machine firsthand, but alas, he was gone, and they were left to reflect on their own. They didn't wish to bother their ‘creators’ about the dilemma because, for some reason they couldn't place, having these questions felt wrong. After all, who were they to wonder if they were truly 'alive', to question whether or not they should have to go along with how objects live and obey such rules and laws? The notion of personhood was programmed into them, but with every passing day, their self-awareness had grown from the start of Invitational, and now, they feared that breaking free any further was leading them into dangerous territory.

No matter how hopeless he felt, Goo knew he had at least one former contestant he could still talk to, and he was able to smile for the first time in what felt like ages as Bot, his fellow co-founder of the Cheer Factory, walked into their office building. They'd had it built in the hopes that the Cheer Factory's positive influence could live on past the show, but as it turned out, when anyone needed cheering up, they'd prefer to turn to their other friends for help instead, so now the space functioned almost exclusively has a hangout spot for its only two members.

From the second they laid eyes on him, Bot could sense that Goo was just as depressed as he'd been the past few days, and considering his current predicament, they couldn't blame him. Pulling up a chair next to him at the kitchenette's counter, they gently asked, "Still no new clients?" as a coded question, not wanting to bring up the whole 'friends' issue quite yet.

“Nope," He replied defeatedly. "I considered leaving to find some, but I couldn't kid myself into thinking that would work."

“That's understandable. Waiting here makes more sense anyway, if anyone wanted our help, they could just call the office phone.” They attempted to assure him, as despite all their intense self-reflection on whether any of their emotions were organic, there was no question about it, Bot undeniably still loved Goo as their best friend and biggest supporter, and thus only wanted the best for him. “Other than that, are you holding up ok at all?”

Goo sighed, but attempted not to worry his friend too much. “I’m doing the best I can after dying.” He delivered that line with a tiny bit of humor before trailing off into his typical nonsense. “It’s like when you find a dollar bill in a sewer grate, sure, you had to get all dirty and escape all those flushed alligators, but at least you’re slightly better off in the end. Then again, you’ll never forget running for your life for something that maybe wasn't worth it." By the end, it hardly seemed like an analogy anymore.

Bot nodded, "I can barely begin to wrap my head around what it was like for everyone to go through that. I'm just glad you're still alive." The concept of any of the contestants dying permanently was so foreign to them, considering every other time they'd just be regenerating good as new, but now if anything happened, death really would be the end. As horrible as it sounded, in a way, they were almost happy about it, as Bot could never be fully recovered in the event of a tragedy. Sure, maybe Test Tube could rebuild their body, but would their 'brain' be the same? Or would that new Bot only be a replica of someone who once was? Knowing everyone was now in their shoes gave them a sick sense of pleasure that they quickly tried to distract themself from.

“You’d think going through that together could have been a bonding experience, albeit a morbid one, but no such luck.” Goo lamented, a rare shred of anger making itself known, before it fizzled back into pity. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore, this was just how I was made to be: alone. Why do I even cling to the Cheer Factory anymore? How am I expected to make others happy when I'll never be happy?" After wallowing for a second longer, he rethought the penultimate statement, looking up at Bot with a worried expression, "I wasn't saying that I'd leave the Cheer Factory, I'd never do that. Even if I can't make others happy, it's worth it to stay with you. You're the only friend I have, and I'll never throw that away."

Bot put a hand on Goo to help him calm down, attempting to further comfort him with, "It's ok, I didn't think you'd leave, and trust me, I understand how it feels to be bound to how you were made." Except, Bot wasn't quite sure if they really did. They broke through their programming pretty easily because it had been too shallow of a facade, but the contestants were all in-depth, original people. Was there anything that could be done to free them from the trappings of their tropes? Or was attempting to break free a foregone conclusion? Without thinking, they began to say, "Do you think the only reason we are such good friends is because I'm not real?" Goo didn't seem to get what they meant at first, staring blankly until Bot continued, "If you really were programmed to not be able to properly befriend other people, of course it would make sense that your only friend would be a robot, wouldn't it?" Their voice had a cold, absoluteness to it.

Thinking it over once more, Goo slowly nodded, "I guess so. I'm not sure what your point is though."

“My point is, it’s not fair for you to be just be stuck like that forever, and if making friends isn't something you can do naturally, then what else can you do except," Realizing how close they were teetering on sounding insane, they paused to find a better way to phrase it, "make it happen another way?"

"What other ways are there?"

"Well. Force them, I guess." Bot cut to the chase.

Goo wanted to reject such an idea, but deep down, he couldn't take much more loneliness. As much as he loved Bot's friendship, he didn't want to only burden them, and if he had to resort to friendship through force, then so be it. "I...I guess that's not terrible. And we'd be able to really be the Cheer Factory again, after all, friendship makes everyone happy, doesn't it?" In real time, it felt less as though he was justifying it to himself, and more so that he was agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment.

Bot smiled, "Exactly! I'm sure no one would mind it in the end." Unlike their co-founder, Bot knew this act was bordering on reprehensible, but they found they were no longer in a place to care.

“But how am I meant to force anyone to do anything? I’m not exactly intimidating.” Goo asked, a fair point considering he had no arms or legs and could only move at a snail's pace.

Bot stood up from their chair to exemplify their extending limbs, letting themself tower over Goo as they used their lengthened arm to pat his head. "That's where I come in."

Goo marveled up at them, “You’d really help me with this?”

“Of course, what are friends for? Speaking of, I know the perfect someone who'd definitely benefit from some cheering up from the-" They paused to give Goo the chance to exclaim the name in unison with them.

“Cheer Factory!”

Chapter Text

While they were hardly experienced with the act, Bot assumed kidnapping was the kind of thing you were supposed to do at night, but considering the subject they were after reportedly functioned best in pitch-black darkness, committing the crime in broad daylight would have to suffice. From the moment the plan was set in motion, they'd known Blueberry would be a perfect target, based on physicality alone, it made sense; he was one of the smaller and, outside of irregular circumstances, slower objects. There was also the cruel but honest fact that out of all the other former contestants, Blueberry was the least likely to be missed. He hadn't exactly endeared anyone after utterly failing The Sinkers by refusing to participate in the very first challenge, and he'd thoroughly turned everyone against him after he faked his death to try and ‘dominate the game’, and even with his change of heart, he currently had no friends to speak of, which was quite a feat considering even the most unpopular contestants at least had one or two companions to lean upon. Truly, he was disposable

It wasn't difficult to catch him off guard either, considering the number of times he would lie face down on the ground after the smallest amount of activity, especially during any break in his hobby of baking. Bot thanked their lucky stars that nothing noteworthy had happened within the OSC on this day, as it allowed them to enter a nearly silent Hoot on a beeline to the kitchen, not needing to worry about being spotted by surveillance cameras, as the hotel lacked any. It seemed as if the residents' shared experience left them wary of being constantly recorded.

As they'd anticipated, Blueberry was taking a break as his muffins cooled on the kitchen counter, lying prone right in front of the doorway Bot peered through. They extended their legs, towering over the fruit, who was none the wiser to their presence, feeling as though they were about to squish a bug beneath their foot, but they resisted the urge for now. Instead, they treated him like a bug in a different way, placing a large Tupperware container over him. Thanks to the deliberate, slow pacing of their movements, Blueberry hadn't even noticed that anything had happened, staying unmoved on the tile floor, until in a few swift motions, Bot had slid the lid beneath him, flipped over and shut the container, then bolted from the room, satisfied with their acquisition of Blueberry and a few muffins.

He'd surely noticed something was awry by now, judging from the incessant rattling and shouting coming from the container, but they simply wrapped their arms around tighter and increased their height so no one they might run into below could tell. Every step was calculated to the letter, maximizing speed without seeming as though they had a motive to any outside observers, all while their captive fruitlessly struggled. Lowering to street level once more, they threw open the Cheer Factory's doors, breaking into a full run towards the spot they'd prepared for Blueberry: the custodial closet. With brisk precision, they tore off the container's lid and threw Blueberry inside, slamming the closet door behind him and locking it tight. His attempts to free himself did not cease, as the door shook from the pounding of his fists, but Bot paid him no mind. They had to go tell Goo his new friend was waiting.

To call Blueberry completely panicked would be an understatement. Furiously, he punched and kicked at the door holding him back, but there was only so much energy he had to spare before he slumped against the back wall, head still reeling as he tried to gain his bearings. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness, and he was too disoriented to function at peak capacity, so all he could really do was think. All he knew for certain was that he'd let his guard down for one moment, and he'd been attacked, with only the faintest glimpse of the culprit that he wanted to deny. It just couldn't have been Bot, they'd never stoop so low. Well, he didn't exactly know much about them aside from the few moments their paths crossed, but they were everyone's favorite contestant, they didn't have an evil robo-bone in their body, right? As he pondered his current predicament further, he heard a voice from the other side of the door that made him realize everything was about to get worse.

“Hello, Blueberry! Or should I say ‘new friend’?”

There was only one blob he knew with a voice that grating: it was Goo, one of the most annoying invitational contestants Blueberry had to deal with during his brief stint on the show. He’d always found his unbridled positivity and nonsensicality irritating to no end, but hadn’t bothered to put much energy into protesting it, besides a brief mention of his disdain in his exit interview. Sure, he'd gone out of his way to frame him for murder, but it wasn't personal; he did that to a lot of people that night. He could even tolerate the fact that whenever he looked himself up, he and Goo were always paired together for some reason. But being trapped with no other option than being forced to talk to Goo? That was a bridge too far.

“What do you want?” He questioned, anger only vaguely suppressed by his constant morose demeanor.

“What the Cheer Factory always wants, to make others happy! And we thought that having more friends would be the thing to really cheer you up!” With the joyful, nonchalant way Goo responded, it was as if he hadn’t imprisoned Blueberry.

“You kidnapped me…to make me happy?” Blueberry repeated, confusion melding with resentment.

“Of course!” Goo continued to seem completely unfazed by this overstep, “If you aren’t going to take the leap, then we might as well give you a little push.”

If he wasn't the one being victimized, Blueberry would almost appreciate Goo’s audacity, but finding himself on the other end of this madness was unacceptable. "You should know not to count on me to jump." He internally was annoyed that he bothered to entertain Goo's analogy (even if it was the most sensical one he'd ever come up with), rephrasing bluntly, "I'm not gonna be your friend."

Goo's happy tone faltered, a hint of desperation coming through as he pleaded, "Why not?"

“Because you locked me in a fucking closet.”

“No, I meant why didn't you ever want to be my friend?" Goo's voice trembled as he continued, "All I wanted was for you to like me, and you just wouldn’t.”

Blueberry was hardly in the mood to be his captor's therapist. “You know why? Because I’m allowed not to. I have something called free will. " The irony of that statement coming from a hostage wasn't lost on him.

"And it wasn't just you." Goo kept going, not acknowledging Blueberry's response. "Everyone I've met refuses to like me, no matter how hard I try. All I do is try, I try to be friendly and kind and everything people like, but when I do it, it's not enough."

"Well, maybe you're just too annoying for people to tolerate your 'niceness'," Blueberry harshly shot back, "You definitely were for me."

For the first time, he heard true anger in Goo's voice as he shouted, "You don't have a leg to stand on; no one likes you because you're actively unpleasant. At least I have Bot, you have nobody!"

Blueberry returned with equal fury. "The only reason I 'have nobody' is because everyone here sucks to be around, especially you. I don't want to be around an overly positive weirdo all the time, so I leave you alone. It's either that or I'd be actively mean to you, if that's what you want."

“I just want you to like me!” There was a thud on the other side of the door following Goo's cry.

“I was never going to, and now I never will." He answered apathetically. "Can I go now?”

“No.” Goo’s voice took on an unfamiliarly rigid quality. “If no one will like me normally, I’ll just have to force it.”

Such blunt phrasing in regards to Blueberry's situation left him mildly disturbed, but he was eased in the knowledge that little harm could come from someone like Goo, even if he really wanted to. This thought boldened him slightly, so with a bit of resistance, he questioned, "And why do you think I'll comply?"

He promptly received a response from the Cheer Factory's other, more intimidating member, “Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

His shred of misplaced confidence quickly faded, as Bot's threat was considerably more plausible. If kidnapping wasn't off the table for them, he doubted much else was. Still, some part of him wanted to appeal to the Bot he thought he knew, as he asked, "Why do any of this? What's the point?"

He couldn't tell if it was just in his head or not, but Bot’s voice was horrifyingly robotic as they answered, “Because I can.”

Chills ran down his spine, and for a moment, Blueberry had no response. He knew he was, in more ways than one, backed into a corner at the moment, so he complied for the time being. “Ok, fine. Tell Goo to come back.”

“I’m still here.”

Blueberry was almost shocked that Goo was going along with this murder plot, but after all that had unfolded in the last hour, nothing was that surprising. Cringing under his breath at the idea of needing to occupy Goo for so long, he pretended to comply with the Cheer Factory's demands, "So. Do you want to talk about pinecones?"

After what seemed like hours, possibly even days with how excruciating it felt, Goo had been tired out by his own incessant ramblings and had decided to go off to sleep, leaving with the promise and/or threat of, "Goodnight, Blueberry! I'll talk to you more tomorrow!"

Blueberry did not reply, as he was too busy plotting his escape. He figured he couldn't leave yet, as Goo had always been easy to exhaust, so it likely wasn't late enough for his plan to unfold, but he was almost thankful for it; he knew he needed all the prep time he could get.

Once he was confident that the silence of the night had fully crept in, he began to make his move. His eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, letting him finally survey his surrounding closet space, including plenty of time to study the lock. The knob on his end was fitted with a single circular keyhole, a very simple mechanism that could be undone with an Allen key or hairpin; he just needed to find something that would fit. Thankfully, he had plenty of time to riffle through the closet, finding mostly cleaning supplies that had barely been used in the few weeks the Cheer Factory office had been open. Unfortunately, Blueberry found that the closet was lacking any small cylindrical objects; his captors had likely made sure of it. That was until he got the idea to unscrew one of the many loose spray bottles, and just as he'd hoped, the long, straw-like tube used to suck up cleaner had been left inside.

Carefully, he stuck the tube inside the keyhole, thanking god that it managed to fit, and slowly pushed it as far back as it would go. After a few moments of inching it along, he heard the joyous sound he was after: *click*. As much as he wanted to run out that nanosecond, he knew he had to stay put for a little while longer to make sure the noise wouldn't be heard by Goo or Bot. Taking a few beats, he then began to steadily open the door, only making tiny, deliberate movements to prevent any creaking. As soon as the smallest sliver was available, he squeezed himself through, practically tiptoeing on the hardwood floor. This was it, he thought to himself, just a few more steps before you're free, every minute bringing him closer to his final escape. The front door was within his reach now, he could almost cry in relief as his hand gripped the cold metal knob.

That cold, comforting feeling was quickly replaced by a burning, white hot pain radiating from his forearm, which perplexed him until he glanced down in horror at the sight of a paring knife lodged deep into his flesh. Terrified, his eyes met with the haunting presence who sat in the kitchen chair, an unsettling green emanating from their casing as they pulled out a chef's knife from the block beside them with robotic precision. Abandoning all pretenses of stealth, Blueberry tore the door open and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, which sadly, was not nearly enough, as he was quickly laid low from that very knife penetrating his back.

He fell limply against the entrance steps, agony seeping into every fiber of his being as he found his extremities refusing to cooperate despite how desperately he wanted to struggle. He could hardly stay conscious now, his ears were ringing, and his mouth filled with a bitter taste; all he could feel now was a pair of hands that grabbed his legs and dragged him inside once more, shutting the door to his freedom for good.

In what he was forced to accept were his final moments, he was forcefully flipped over and made to face Bot. He didn't know what he expected their expression to be, maybe anger or an insane joy, but instead, he was met with an utter blankness staring back at him that shook him to his core. They truly felt nothing about killing him; it made no impression whatsoever. In his dying breath, he wanted to ask one last question, but his body was refusing to let the words leave his lips. Somehow, Bot seemed to grasp what he was attempting to say and answered succinctly, “I want to see the light leave your eyes.” As the shadows clouding his vision grew darker, the last thing Blueberry saw was the instrument gripped firmly in their hand: a masher.

With the same cold, machine-like deliberateness as before, Bot began to crush Blueberry's limp body to pieces, pace quickening with every thrust of the masher. They found a sick fascination in watching how his blue skin began to meld with his green insides with each smash, somehow leading to a purplish viscera spreading across the ground. His face had long since vanished, as they'd come to expect from dead objects, but that did little to slow them down. They wanted every solid trace of his body gone, destroying his legs, arms, and every last shred of the orb that once was his body until he was reduced to a puddle beneath them. The masher was now tossed aside, no longer needed as Bot pulverized what was left with their bare hands, his squishy remains coating their arms. The resulting smell was heavenly, like a walk through a berry patch, and had them seriously questioning if they should lick his residue from the floor to see if there was any difference between his taste and that of a real blueberry, but they held off for now. It wasn't as if they really needed food anyway.

“That didn’t last long.” Bot was brought back to reality by the sad voice of their friend from the corner of the room.

They looked over towards him, blueish puree dripping from their face as they replied, “It’s his loss. If he’d rather die than play nice, so be it.”

“I know that, but what can we do now?” His wavery tone made him sound as though he was near tears. "It isn't like we can do this to anyone else, so is this just it? Am I meant to stay alone forever?"

Bot rushed to Goo's side, holding his face in their hands and leaving traces of Blueberry's remains stuck to his surface. "It doesn't mean that, we'll find some other way to make you friends, I'm sure of it. The Cheer Factory isn't done yet, we just need to sleep on it, ok?"'

Goo sniffled, but managed a sort of half-smile, "Ok."

Fortunately for them, they didn't need to come up with a new solution, as the next day, Fan had stepped in to address everyone's displeasure with their new lives by, of course, creating a new Inanimate Insanity to work through their issues. Maybe it was a bit cliché, but the idea was so simple that it was perfect. Of course if the games were back, they would feel better, Goo would get the chance to be surrounded by others constantly in the challenges, and Bot could better parrot others' empathy with everyone's struggles to the forefront.

They were so on board that they almost forgot about one glaring issue. "Alright, before we start, can we make sure everyone's accounted for?" Fan requested.

The Cheer Factory both froze for a second, but Bot chose to take the risky move. "Yep, everybody's here." There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd that seemed to validate their statement, and Fan continued without much thought.

Bot and Goo shared a stealthy look, at first, one of surprise that they had pulled off such a bold act, and a second, more serious one that definitively said 'we have to take this to the grave'. And that they would, the evils of the factory that night would remain a secret.