Chapter 7

The elevator opened with a groan, and the only Toon standing in it stomped out and onto the wooden floor beneath. It wasn't uncommon to catch Shrimpo in a bad mood, but today was particularly one of those bad cases. The crustacean huffed, his whiskers twitching in clear irritation as he stormed through the lobby.

The reason for his anger could range from a simple conversation with a Toon he'd rather stay 6 feet away from, to a legitimate good reason. Today was no outlier.

He stomped down the stairs, and passed the shops that lined the corridor. He held his arm in one hand, gritting his teeth. He hated Dandy as much as he hated everyone else. Not just because he had the ego of every other stupid Main Character, but because he was utterly useless. No, Dandy, the team didn't need small food items for their troubles, when half the team was almost torn to shreds by the last floor's Twisteds. They were lucky Cosmo was there, the pastry was truly carrying the team on his back with his overbearing generosity.

Shrimpo slowed onto the rainbow carpet. In front of him was a small, wide area. To the right was the entrance of the museum located in the center. To the left, and all over the floor, were spray painted drawings of flowers, and random paint spills. Directly forward of him was the railway.

It was quiet, except for the looming echoes of the trains that, for a reason Shrimpo did not know, continued to pass. He gripped his arm tightly, which sent a pained shudder through him.

He slowly moved to one of the benches of the lobby, and took a seat. He leaned against the back, letting out a long, low exhale from his mouth.

He couldn't believe the team tried to blame their injuries on him . It wasn't his fault the Twisted Pebble was on the floor! It wasn't his fault the dog got loose from Flutter's distraction. They were the ones in the way! How was he supposed to do anything?

Shrimpo sunk more into the bench, not realizing how shallow his breathing was becoming. He was aware he was the Twisted's #1 target when he was spotted. Only sheer luck could get them off his trail. He was well aware of it, and he'd think he was used to it. It was common sense to avoid the distractors, and be aware of the Toons around you. He never really felt scared of that fact.

Except when he heard barking.

He remembered the feeling of his stomach dropping when those red, almost shining eyes locked onto his. He thought he'd never move that fast (granted, he couldn't run far anyways). It was pure instinct. The snarling that was heard from the creature, no matter if it was chasing him or not, always sent prickles of pure fear down his spine. Out of all the Twisteds... Why was the one that originated from the smallest out of all of them all, go on and twist into something so.... Monstrous?

He exhaled. He needed to stop thinking about it. He came here to cool down, a place where he knew he wouldn't be bothered. No one went to this section of the center, hell, he'd bet not many even have been here before. The stop had no use for the Toons. It only served as a transportation system for the humans that used to visit here. No humans have, nor likely would, be here anytime soon.

He looked down at the wooden floor. He closed his eyes. The pain in his arm ebbed slowly and forcefully, and he bit the inside of his cheek as his focus dwell upon it. He wanted to punch someone. Transfer the pain to someone who deserved it. Someone else deserved to have the claws of a Twisted rake their skin. If he had claws, he would've. He wanted to.

A bitter feeling lingered in his gut, and he let out a low grumble. He hated the Toons here. They always blamed each other rather than themselves. He was trying to survive just like everyone else, and yet it was always his fault. The injury stung more from the grip he had upon it, but he didn't intend on moving his hand. The stinging caused a tingle in his eyes, and he opened them.

He was met with blurry vision. He grumbled, using his clean hand to wipe his face. Crying wasn't in the definition of who he was. He was not some whiny crybaby. Especially not in front of people.

"Hey! What'cha doing over there?"

And his expression immediately hardened, and he tensed, hunching over as he whipped his head in the direction of the voice.

There, at the steps, was Finn. The glass bowl Toon was smiling at him with his weird toothy grin, with bare hands and his usual attire adorning him.

He waved, and Shrimpo kept his glare. "GO AWAY!"

Finn continued to smile, seeming to ignore Shrimpo's clear indication of his unwanted presence. "Hey, have you seen Goob hanging around here? I've been looking for him!"

"NO," Shrimpo spat, inching away as Finn started descending the stairs. "I HATE GOOB!"

"Yeah, I know." He moved to sit on the bench, next to the crustacean. He kept a distance, keeping at the ledge. Shrimpo kept his eyes on the fish bowl, eyes boring into his skin. His hand, dried of ichor, continued to press against his other arm. From where Finn was sitting, he wouldn't have been able to see it.

"You never answered my question. Water you doing here by the station?" Finn tilted his head a little as he spoke, looking back at Shrimpo.

His stupid smile was bothering him. Shrimpo knew Finn was trying to be nice, but he didn't want to hear it, let alone see it. His whiskers, and the fins on his head twitched in irritation.

He sneered at Finn. "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!"

Finn's typical cheery expression faltered just slightly. He gazed at Shrimpo. "Fair enough." He said, then leaned back against the bench, relaxing as if he were on a lounge chair.

Shrimpo shifted his gaze back to the floor, keeping his limbs close to himself as he avoided looking at the fish bowl beside him. He wanted to be alone , and the forced company made him want to punch whoever dared intrude on his personal time. Finn was easy to shut up with a quick punch to the mouth, but he really didn't want another verbal scolding from Sprout. He'd only done it a couple of times, and it never made him feel better. The punching bags hanging coldly in his room didn't either.

He looked down at himself. He could hear Finn talking about... something. Whatever it was, he wasn't paying attention to the bowl's rambling. It was likely about fish, which he didn't care for. He'd already learned too many unnecessary fish facts from the Toon.

His arm ached once more, and he sucked in a breath, his gaze wandering to his left. The railways were still barren. The noise coming from the tunnel grew as his mind wandered. If he were to be completely honest, he never intended to choose violence. He was always reprimanded for doing it, during the show and past it. He couldn't recall specific events of times he would get into a physical altercation with another Toon, or human, but he always knew he had a reason . A reason that was repeatedly offended.

He wanted to be left alone, and no one seemed to respect it. The Toons here liked to pry and try to fix what they deem as broken. Shrimpo refused to be the watch they sit and tinker with until they deem it good enough. He was fine the way he was. He was still the same as he was written. He was intended to be this way, and no one should have a say in what he does or what he thinks.

He refocused his vision as a loud roar came from the tunnel. He heard as Finn's voice came to a stop as both their gazes locked onto the gated opening. Suddenly, a train came rushing through the tunnel.

Shrimpo watched as it, at first, moved past in a blur of gray, purple, and yellow. Then, it started to slow, and Shrimpo's whiskers twitched. It slowed until it stopped with a squeal of metal wheels. It stood there for a moment, before the doors of the train opened with a small metallic whine.

Shrimpo stared at it. He'd seen the trains pass before, in the few times where it would pass as he exited an elevator shift, but not once had he seen one of the trains stop. He watched with wide eyes. The train itself seemed barren of passengers. He wondered if a human would board off.

He soon got his answer, as shortly, the large metal doors shut, and the train began moving. The sound of it picked up in volume from the echoes of the tunnel, and after a few more seconds, it was gone.

Shrimpo blinked, the hand that had been holding his arm now fallen to his lap. His head fins were drooped, and he exhaled.

"Are you also wondering where it goes?"

Shrimpo jumped, and whipped his head around to the fish bowl, who smiled at him. He had almost forgotten Finn was here. His glare immediately returned. "WHAT?""The train." His hands were in his lap, one hand tapping against the other gently, "You ever wonder where it comes from, or where it goes?"

"NO," he immediately replied, turning back towards the direction of the railway.

" Whale , I do. I wonder why it still runs, and stops here, even though no humans ever get off it."

Shrimpo blinked, then turned his head around back to Finn. "YOU'VE SEEN THE TRAIN STOP BEFORE?" He blurted, his tone unusually casual and genuine.

Finn stared at him for a moment. He seemed as surprised as Shrimpo currently was. Then, he cracked a small smile. "Maybe a couple of times." He shrugged, sitting up, no longer leaning towards Shrimpo. He leaned back against the bench once more. "It stays for maybe a minute, at most? Not enough time for anyone to get on."

Shrimpo's gaze lingered on Finn for a moment, then he looked down at the ground. His frown returned. "THAT'S STUPID."

Finn didn't verbally respond, but out of the corner of his eye, Shrimpo saw him nod his head. The two continued to sit there in silence. Shrimpo had his hands balled into fists, and his gaze started to become unfocused.

Where did the train go? Did it go to whatever world the humans inhabited? He assumed it did, if that's how the visitors used to get to the center in the first place.

He wondered...

"Welp..." Finn patted his thighs with his hands as he began to stand. He stretched his arms above his head, then shook out his legs. "I still gotta find Goober. I'm out."

Shrimpo watched as the fish bowl waved to him, then began to make his exit. A part of him felt relieved that Finn now couldn't bother him. He was alone, just as he wanted. He slouched into the bench.

His arm ached. Finn was right beside him, and he didn't even bother to notice. Not that Shrimpo wanted him to notice. He didn't want any help that glass bowl could've provided. He could take care of himself.

He shifted his position, lying down to rest his entire body onto the bench, like he was sprawled on a comfortable couch. He looked down at his calloused hands. One had dried ichor on it, the other was clean.

He'd steal a med kit later. His anger from earlier the day had bypassed, only the lingering irritation remained. He can be mad about it later. He breathed slowly. He could take a nap here if he really wanted to. A rumble came from the tunnel as another train began to pass by.

...

He sat up. His arm hurts too much to continue ignoring. Slowly, he stood up, and lumbered out of the station. He knew where Cosmo kept the spare med kits.