In the Angel's Arms

DogDay's sleep was often disturbed. At least, whatever catatonic stasis qualified as sleep for him was often disturbed. Every chittering squeal from the little toys usually meant another small piece of him got eaten away. Nearly seven years he'd been in the same cell, strung up and left to suffer for as long as CatNap's god saw fit. 

Still, he counted what blessings he had. He wasn't dead. The feeling in his arms had long since dulled to a faded tingle. The tight belt around his waist kept his lifeblood contained.

Even better, Poppy had been released! She promised an angel would come and help those who remained. The angel would end all this suffering and bring down the Prototype. Maybe the angel would save him...?

No. DogDay was optimistic, sure, but not unreasonable. He was useless to an angel, too broken, too empty. He couldn't fight the Prototype—much less stand up to CatNap—ten years ago during that horrible Hour; no reason for him to think he could face that "god" now.

Hah. Stand up. Ironic. He couldn't stand up then and he never would again, torn down to forever grovel at the feet of whoever decided to end or prolong his suffering.

If nothing else, hopefully the angel would offer some friendly companionship, at least for a few moments. The little toys would be after the angel, but a respite from the loneliness, no matter how brief, would be worth it.

The door at the far end of the cell block creaked open. DogDay kept his head down and ears strained. What he called a heart skipped a beat. Was the angel here?

Slow footsteps passed down the tile floor. They stopped at CatNap's cell and the sound of a GrabPack led to the door opening. The footsteps got farther away.

DogDay stayed very still. He didn't recognize the footsteps, but they were definitely bipedal and not made of plastic. Could it be the angel? Dare he hoped?

The footsteps returned and then came closer, pausing at each cell. Finally, their source—a human woman!—came into view. She was focused on the cell across from DogDay. He figured he should speak up before she turned around and startled herself.

"You."

The woman startled anyway, spinning around so fast the GrabPack's hands rattled.

"You're Poppy's angel. Come to save us."

The woman fired a flare into the cell's floor, illuminating DogDay's sorry state and revealing how pale her face became.

"Nothing left to save, not here. You're in CatNap's home, angel."

She threw a wary look down the hall. DogDay kept talking, telling the angel everything he thought she should know as succinctly as possible. She had to understand the danger she was in so she wouldn't linger here.

DogDay also took the time to get a good look at Poppy's angel. She was plain, but not ugly, middle aged, and looked tense. Her eyes were wide and darted around, checking corners and shadows. It was hard to make out details in the gloom. But as she looked at DogDay, there was clear pity. She kept looking at the belts holding him aloft, likely thinking of some way to get him down.

"Listen to me," DogDay pleaded. "You need to get out of this place." The angel couldn't be wasting precious time with him. She had more important things to do.

Then he heard them, the little toys in the tunnels. There were so many more than the handful that usually came. "Leave me, please!" DogDay begged the angel.

She shot flares at the little toys emerging by the swarm from the tunnels but it didn't stop them.

"Just go!"