Beyond The Machine (a BATIM fanfiction)

Chapter 5: Shawn The Toymaker

"Let me go!" Mikey shouted as he furiously tried to struggle out of the angel's tight grip. She had been carrying him against his will for what felt like hours; up through the huge shaft, down a hallway wider than any he and his friends had been through, and now up a winding staircase. He had no idea where she was taking him, and he definitely didn't want to stay and find out. "Stop! Put me down! Where are you taking me?!"
The demented Alice purred with pride as she began to answer. "Where?" She asked in mock surprise. "To the Toymaker, of course."
"What does he want with me?" Mikey asked.
"That's only for him to know," the toy replied, "and for you to find out soon. If you'd prefer to not fall to your death on the way there, little Searcher, then I suggest that you keep those questions of yours to yourself."
Mikey kept quiet. His mind wandered back to thoughts of his friends. What would happen to them? Would the Toymaker send more killer toys to finish them off? Would they be able to find him?
The angel paused at the top of the stairway, where a metal door with the words "The Creator Lied To Us" were written in ink at the top. She floated down to the ground and turned the door's wheel with one arm, holding on tightly to Mikey's arm with the other. The door swung open in silence, and Alice dragged the little Searcher into the biggest room he had ever seen in his life.
The room was much bigger than the Inkwell had been, with a high ceiling on which hung a huge, golden chandelier. On the rooms walls were shelves that went from floor to ceiling, littered with books and plushes of the poster cartoons. In the center of the room, there was a large, elevated platform with a wooden chair in its center.
Sitting in the chair, his back to the angel and her prisoner, was a figure with the upper body of a Lost One, and the lower body of a Searcher. He wore a lightly colored shirt, had inky wings protruding from his back, and had a big black horn on either side of his head. His head was bowed, as if he was upset about something.
"Master," Alice called to him proudly, "I've brought the Searcher that you've requested."
"...Excellent," the Toymaker said in a soft voice. "And where are the other toys I've sent with you?"
"The Searcher's companions destroyed them all, Master. I'm all that's left."
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure about that," the Toymaker chuckled. He then raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Instantly, about eight more toys appeared beside Alice, all similar to the ones Mikey and his friends had fought.
"Now," the Toymaker said, "go to the other four little travelers. Make sure none of them escape, or are left alive."
The angel finally let go of Mikey, and swiftly flew back through the door and down the stairs, the other toys in tow.
"Wait! No! Don't hurt them!" Mikey called after them, trying to follow. But the ninth toy closed and locked the door behind it, leaving Mikey and the Toymaker in the room alone. If the toys reached his friends, they'd be hopelessly outnumbered.
"I'll bet you have a million questions fleeting through your little head right now, little one," the Toymaker said to Mikey, rising up from his chair. "Where are you? Why are you here? What's going to happen to those precious friends of yours?"
"W-who are you?" Mikey asked nervously. "And, um, yeah, all those other questions, too."
"Who am I?" The Toymaker turned to Mikey, revealing one wide right eye, and a pentagram replacing the other one. "I am the Toymaker, as you already know. But, as my guest, you may call me...Shawn. As for the other queries, you are in my workshop, where I make all of my beautifully deranged children. And you're here for a very beautiful reason, yes indeed. As soon as my children have disposed of your companions, you're to have a special meeting with a special someone. Won't that be fun?"
"No! I'm not going to let you hurt them!" Mikey shouted angrily. "They never did anything to you! You murderer!"
"They didn't, did they? I guess not, but I need to make sure they don't intervene when I take you to the Ink Demon." Shawn put his hand over his invisible mouth in fake shock. "Oh, did I just say his name? Oops, silly me. I meant to make it a surprise for you both."
Mikey's eyes widened. What could the Ink Demon possibly want from him? And why would he send this monster after him?
"But, I assure you, I am no murderer," Shawn continued. "I am merely a worker trying to complete whatever he can. The true killer here is the one who built his crooked empire on the backs of those he took advantage of. The one who lied to whoever trusted him most in order to get what he wanted. The Creator. He's the one you should call a murderer, little one. Not I."
"...W-well, whoever the Creator is," Mikey said, "he probably wouldn't send scary monster toy things after creatures who did nothing to them! I'm not going with you to the Ink Demon, and you can't make me!"
Mikey turned to leave, but Shawn was suddenly right in front of him. The Searcher looked behind him and in front of him again, confused and afraid.
"I'm afraid escaping our Lord won't be so easy, little one," Shawn said with a not-so-nice tone. "It looks as though you'll be quite difficult to keep in one place until the time of your deliverance has come. Let's place you in a more...secure position until it's time to deliver you, shall we?"