P U P P E T E E R

[01]

A mouse squeaked with anguish as he ran across rooms that felt like voids. The small taps its nails made against the pavement echoed throughout the poor condition that was the "holding room."

It was surprising to see such a small animal pressing on among a feline infested theater. No doubt, there were attempt to capture the little fellow, but all were somehow futile.

It squeezes through a hole in the wall, keeping itself out of view. All noise dies out.

Cool metal flooring made the chamber feel like a freezer. Its only warmth came from those residing in the cells. People huddled for warmth, pressing against each other tiredly.

The oddball of the bunch sat far from them, alone. Her arms crossed and her face buried in thin pastel red sleeves. The sweater she wore was dirtied, stains of a darker red coated the fabric.

It was kept at a minimum. She made sure not to rub her wounds on the rarely washed material. It wouldn't be very noticeable anyway.

Thankfully though, her jeans and shoes matched with black. All-be-it not the most comfortable pair, the crowd loved it. A star thrown in the face of death constantly. She always evaded it while putting on a show for its sick attendees— who were all cats dressed fancily and wore identifiable uniforms.

The girl stirs, frown forming at a moan coming from one of her cellmates. "Why ha-hasn't he c-come rescued us yet, 'eh?" A triangle head worries, every right to do so. "H-Hatty is our f-friend. Right, 'eh?" He stutters.

"Yeah, just have patience. He's probably being held c-captive by those cats too. P-Probably..." Another shivers. Both reassuring of one another, they confide the horrid situation by discussing some plan Hatty might've come up with to give excuse to all the time he's already taken.

[H/c] locks peer out at the two, mouth parted. She hesitates to debunk their ideas, as she's performed before Hatty himself. He isn't doing anything to help.

Pale lips form a line. She keeps them oblivious to the situation. Their conversation was about the only thing that seemingly kept them going, something she didn't want to ruin.

Hatty. Hatty Hattington. One of the most friendly beings known turned out to be the most manipulative. A puppeteer pulling on strings forcefully tied on them, who didn't seem to care. It irked her.

It irked her because of how close she was to him. How much trust she gave him. He knew everything about her from the most minor detail to the biggest. Much as she did to him, or so thought.

She worried about his being deathly, praying to whatever god listening to make sure he wasn't harmed in the slittiest. The scene of being torn away from his grasp replayed nonstop like a broken record.

At the time, she wish she would've told him. To scream out her confession with as much confidence as she could. She liked him, liked him a lot. Every moment with him was a blessing in her eyes. Memories sweet as candy. A self promise was made to tell him the next time they meet.

All hope was squashed the very same second she spotted him watching her performance with one of the most dullest looks unimaginable.

Realization struck moments after confusion. Her fight or flight responses nailed against the wall lagged to kick again. She gave up, to put it simply.

She gave up.

"I lo-liked him for the longest time. I regret not telling him." [F/n] admits, eyes glistening in the dark cell. A sliver of her soul was sure all this would've ended differently if she just said something before the cruise ride was even an idea.

Her friends 'awe' softly with sympathy. "I'm sure h-he likes you too! H-Hatty likes everyone!" Her eyes roll at the response, they were far too oblivious for their own good even at times like these.

"Yeah, I guess." The girl blinks. Eyes dart for the newfound noise coming nearby the cell door. Everyone excluding her push against the wall with fear. She knew they weren't coming for them, they weren't good enough in their eyes.

Standing, [F/n] dusts herself off. Here comes another performance.

╴▢ ♡ ◯ ╴

The familiar burst of sadistic excitement filled her ears. The mixed echo of laughter and gasps were beyond sickening, bets of life and death murmured between the crowd shoved her to the edge of puking due to anxiety.

She pulled herself up with a heave, hands wobbling upon realization another timing section was upcoming. Turning to her captors, a quiet hiccup escapes her lips. The sentient felines all beckon her to continue, all cheering with content.

[E/c] eyes begin to water, quickly to be blinked away. She had to do this, if not for herself then for them. Those trapped in shivering temperatures back down where the cells were built. It was inhumane, it was cruel.

A burst of energy pangs through her figure, launching herself forward after keying the correct time. Blocks she previously stepped on broke apart, revealing the lasers charging beneath them.

Throwing herself over the upcoming pit of spikes, she winces as the fabric protecting her shin was torn in two areas going the same direction. Taking a moment of rest, she collapses on her rear. Giving attention at her injury, she sighs. No bleeding, just damaged skin. Glancing back at the wreckage, she's grateful all that was given was a few cuts.

Standing up with some struggle, she drags herself to the finish. Scowling at the cries of relief.

By instinct, her eyes force her to turn over to Hatty's special seat. He was still, sitting up with a soulless expression. For a mere moment she originally thought he was dead. That was until he stood, giving some lines of speech to the guards behind him.

A glow of green was the only comforting feeling she'd felt in a while.

[F/n] bows before the crowd. Engulfed in the soothing light, the curtains close as she's teleported backstage. A surprisingly gentle tap greets her upon arrival. "C'mon champ." The animal purrs. "Hatty wants to have a word with you."

Her cheeks flush. Mixed feelings begin to boil in the kettle, though she's extremely careful not to show what's brewing. A nod was given in reply. No sooner she's now being lightly shoved in the direction of his office.

Her teeth pinch the inner side of her bottom lip, noting the slight burn pulsing from her right leg. The cool air met with her injury fanned the growing burn. It almost felt like a paper cut, except it wasn't so minor.

Pulled out of thought, her orbs cross that of another pushing open a door. Hatty sat on his chair, faced in the opposite direction she was entering from. He was staring at a painting of himself, is what it seemed. Without needing to be commanded, her feet carry her inside.

The click of the door was the final echo of sound before silence. [F/n]'s lip quivered. This was the first time they were finally alone. She wanted to cry.

She wanted to tell him how scared she was— to express how worried she was. She wanted to cry in his arms while he tells her it'll all be alright because he has a plan to flee with their friends. That any doubt she had was a simple misunderstanding.

Getting no interaction, [F/n] takes a step forward. Then another, and another. Moving around his desk slowly, she hesitantly runs a hand over the arm of his chair. "Hatty?" Her voice soft, the call came as a whisper.

Reality strikes her again. The voice in the back of her head gets louder and louder. 'You're just a puppet to him.' Her lips twitch downwards. As true as it seemed she didn't want to believe it.

A game of puppet and puppeteer, though in this game: the puppet dances alone.