Wires.

Loose wires, red, green, blue, black.

I stared, having the first genuine look into what lay inside of my body, what was inside of the nigh-invulnerable endoskeleton which housed me.

Heh. It was funny, really. That's all I was, wires and metal and the tiniest little shred of someone else's soul. Now I was supposed to help the others with taking care of his animatronics, teaching them how to exist as more than a momentary distraction. But what made me any different? All of us were the same. The same metal, the same power, the same hollow fragments of souls. He made animatronics to distract anything that could help his enemy, but he made us to help and obey the commands we would be given. He really hadn't changed as much as he thought. A puppeteer to the end, simply giving his puppets more substance to their facades. What was I? Worthless scrap, made to help a madman maintain himself. I was the scrap-metal son of a scrap-metal demon.

I looked at my shoto-saber in my left hand (my newfound absence of a right hand thankfully not affecting my ability to wield it), and then glanced to the mangled shoulder on the same arm. I had forced a bit of power through it, enough that I could cast whatever sort of 'magic' my sliver of a soul could generate to repair it from within. I had left my right arm in disrepair, simply to look within the hole left from his glaive slicing my claw off. I turned on my shoto, lazily twirling it. What was the point? To fight whatever I was told, to do as I was told, to act like I was so happy... Honestly, what would the point be? If I died, I could be replaced in an instant. I was literally a sliver of one soul amidst an entire multiverse's worth. Right down to the same source material I could be replaced, and with a better version. What. Is. My. Purpose. To be a servant? To never question and always obey, living in a happy ignorance? We could have all died, from our maker's own foolishness. He made us to defend, then made a force which could tear through all defenses. I hadn't even done anything but slow him for a moment, and I was brought to ruin in the process.

So what is my purpose?

To keep the bossman's sanity together? He fought his own sanity head-on, it's fairly obvious he no longer needs it.

To defend the bossman's territory? Tch. The first REAL challenge we face, and he single-handedly cuts all of us down. I doubt we're of any use in that department.

To simply... exist? A momentary distraction for the boss and the Displaced he meets? A toy left over from him experimenting with his abilities?

I... I honestly don't know. Heh. This is a new emotion for me. I've never felt it, but I can recognize it. The most realistic purpose for me, theonly one that can't be argued against and I can't help but feel such an utter HATRED for it.

I reached out, feeling that little thing, that tiny little widget, that minuscule fragment-of-a-fragment of a soul that was the entirety of my soul. This was what held me, what gave me life and kept me so utterly tethered to the boss and my siblings. The thing that held me to this... this bleak existence. Heh.

Heh...HeheheheheahAHHAHAHAHAHA.

None of my siblings even saw it. That's what made it so FUNNY. They all were content to just... stay. To goof off and do nothing, blissfully ignorant of just how meaningless it all was. I can't go back.

S̟̝̖̳̬͉̗̓o̦̰̝̙͍̙̭̊̑̌m̙͚͉̌͐̽e̜͔̤̣t̔ͮͬ̋͜h̾̉ͨi̱̗̻̦͓̥̬̓̾͊̈́̋̇n͕̤͛̌̆͐g̱̼̞̝͌̿͠ s̘͈͍̞̩̬͆n̛̳̼̥̜ͩ̾ͥͦạ̡̰̘̗̱̟͚͑̌ͭ͒̐ͪ̚ṕ̛̭̮͕͓̅ͬp̻̟͉̥̩̟̅ͦ̂͂̄ͭ̚͠e͈̮͙̩̿̚ḓ̟͔͓̍͊͐̒ s̶̨̱̻͎̾ͭ̈ͮͧ̕o̭̣̩͚͈̞͊ͮ̃ͧ̽͐̓̒m̶̤̲̣̟̫̹̐͠e̝̙͋̀ţ̗̲̟̬̭̰̩͔̋͠ͅh̻̰͉̰ͩͯ̔͛̔͛i̶ͫ̊̆̾͏̯̭̰͚̦̮̠͈͘n̹͈͎̪̺̩̔ͬͯ̉̕̕ͅǧ̷̰̻̻̱͈͙̭̟͖̂̈̏̎̍͜ ̩̳͔̖̅ͫͥͫ̈͞i̵̘͕̘̱͖͍͈̤̊̓̆͆̽͒̐͠s̤͔̥̭̰ͩͧͬ̋̐̅̑̕ ̦͉͇̥͖͈̞͂̈́́͝d̬̖͍̲͍̭̟̺ͣi̻̻̮͕̲̳̘͚͒͌͂̃ͭ̑͋͗͡f̡̝͈̳̭͍̲̉̅̈́̒̇͛͌̀f̴̧̣͚͙̭͔͌ͯe̪͖̜͔̋́̚͝ṛ̩̟̬̠̪̮̭̎ͫ̐͋ͤ̓̕ͅe̯͓̮̗ͮ̓ͥ̌̍ͅn̵̏̀͐̿̊ͧ̅͂҉̴̰͍̮̠tͦͮ͒ͣ͐̅͏̖̬̀ͅ Ŝͮͤ̂́ͤ͝͏̻̫̦̣̬̟̠̲͙̠͍ͅͅO̴͙̩̯̞̬͒ͫͧ̾ͣ̑̊͂̈́ͅM̗̖̪̤̼̣͉̺̻̱̩̞͖̅͛̌͂͛̆͟͠E̵̸̡͕̼̫̩̥̭͓̹͖̟̜ͯ͑̈ͣ̽̿̄̈͞T̷̷̨͎̯̞̫̺̦̺̱̝̘̪̹͕̦̄ͫ͑̔ͥͩ̌ͨH̴̸̸̬̲̱̝̙̝̠̤̓́̈ͫ̓̑͊͑ͪ̿̀͢Į̮̣͔̥ͫ̏̽ͭ͌ͪ͢͠͞N̘̻̱̜͇̖͓̣͒͂ͯ̇ͣ͐̔ͬ̃̎̀̀ͅǴ̴̵͒ͬͪ̇̈́̉͏̢̯̼̯̳̺̮̯̬͉̞ ̧ͩ͑́̽ͯ̒̃ͦͣ̐̍̀̚҉͚̪̻̣͓̻͘Į̵̸̫̼̼̜̻̰͔͈̮̑ͯ̍̍̍̍̕͞S̵̨̪̭̠̳̝̯͙̙͉̦̳ͬ͋̌ͣ͊̽͛̓̌ ̨̞̼̯̹͇̲͕̖̟̺ͤͩͧͯ̎͆͊̈́̿͒̐͌͟͢W̷̴̛̼͕͔̰̰̻͕͔̫ͫ͑͑ͥ̓͑ͮ͌̀͐̿ͩ͋ͨ͡͞ͅR̨̬̘̘̻͍̥̖͓̯̊ͤ̏̍̕͢O̴̷̱̲̦̻̘͔̖͙̭͕̾̏͌ͯ̐ͧ̋́N͎̱͙̪̩̘̼͇̗͕̣̼͂́͆̑͂̇̌ͬͩ͑̑ͫ̄͒̈ͯ́͡͝Ģ̖̝̱̱̥̖̺̹̐̿̃͒̓̎͐͌̄̚͡

Something... Is awake. I can't name it. But he made it wake up in me. Now I can't get over this feeling. Maybe... Maybe I should just go. There's gotta be something I can do, something other than... whatever this is.

Bonnie shook his head and whacked his shoto lightsaber's blade against his head and shrugged, banishing his these thoughts from his head.

"Damn... I gotta lighten up! If I keep heaving all these crazy thoughts then I'm gonna end up as a nihilist before I'm even a full year old... And I don't even know what that word really means!"

He turned and cracked his back before taking out a roll of duct tape and spinning it around his severed limb, binding the wiring within the limb in place in a functional, if temporary, patch. He wouldn't need it for long, at least if he had anything to say about it. .As he finished, he looked up to see his sibling Foxy approaching.

"Oh, hey bro. Something up?"

"Erm... Ye wandered off after we inducted the new siblins' with an odd expression, so I was a tad worried about ye. And of course, I see ye still haven't gotten the Cap'n to give you a new claw yet... "

Bonnie gained a dour grin.

"Yeah. I've decided to not let him fix me. I've patched myself up well enough anyway..."

"Brother I dunno if-"

"And besides, I don't want a new claw, I want MY claw! So I've made a decision: I'm gonna get tougher. I'm gonna get better. I'm gonna learn how to actually USE this saber of mine, and the next time I see that rat BASTARD of a secret big brother, I'm gonna TAKE BACK that which is MINE!"

"Brother, I hold no issue with that but for repairs I think-"

"No. I can't... I won't go to the boss... No, to the Maker anymore. I just... can't."

"And... Why not?"

"Foxy... Don't you get it? This mess, ALL of it is his. Fucking. Fault! HE made that nutjob! HE chose to keep it from us! HE made us to defend, THEN he decided 'hey. let's make a thing that those defenders CAN'T DEFEND AGAINST. THAT'LL BE FUN, RIGHT?' and then didn't even show up to help until we were all getting cut down to scraps..."

"Bon, the Cap'n didn't intended to-"

"I KNOW!...I just, I know, okay? I just... I know he didn't intend any of this, I'm just pissed at everything in particular right now okay? Right now I just... Can't go to him. I don't know why yet but I just... Can't. At least, not until I can sort some of this stuff in my head out. Alright?"

Foxy let out a sigh. "Alright brother. Just lemme know if there's anythin' I can do for ye."

He turned and started walking away, only to halt when Bonnie spoke a not a moment after he started.

"Actually... Do you have any extra hooks laying around? Cause uh..."

He held up his duct-taped covered arm with a tired but still cheeky smile. "I could use a hand with this."

Foxy blinked for a moment, snickered, and then fell on his back in an uproar of laughter, relieved to see some of his brother's usual mood returning.

"HA! Now thas' the spirit lad! Lemme see what I can do for ye, wait here!"

Bonnie's expression became more tired when his brother turned and departed, though his smile held. He reached into his ribcage, pulling out a copy of Darth Folteren's token, then the book he had been given and finally his lightsaber and began to read.

"Form One Lightsaber Combat, chapter one: Origins and Early Constructs..."