Not asleep, not quite awake, the girl was alone in the heart of the Monstress' territory, slumped over the table with her right cheek still flat against the surface. A painful, shuddering exhale followed each careful breath. She didn't want to move. Even a twitch in her finger would set a pulse to light up her back in a painful crescendo of boiling ice.
While the girl had no memory outside of the Dollhouse, there was familiarity to the other pain – the one of having been held against her will. The girl wasn't sure what she might learn from the hundreds of needle-pricks in her back, but she wouldn't need any more experiences to teach her not to put the slightest trust in that woman the dolls so fittingly referred to as the Monstress.
The girl tensed when she heard footsteps that stopped rather suddenly nearby.
"Did she... embroider her?" Licorice whispered, except it was so loud that it almost wasn't a whisper at all. "I didn't know you could do that to bleeder fabric!"
"I don't think you're supposed to," Scotch said. He sounded a little closer. "I mean... she bled everywhere."
"It's disgusting. We should get her out of here. Ever since that purge down here a turn ago I've felt like this place was still crawling with protos. Shouldn't we take her back to base?"
The girl felt nail-less fingertips lightly press into her injured upper-back and she gasped.
"She seems to sense pain on a far more acute level than we do," Scotch said. "Let's not move her yet."
There was a long period in which the dolls mumbled about their gross inadequacies for this situation. They had never needed to remedy a bleeder's physical discomfort before and both were feeling quite useless, which made them all the more determined to do something about it.
"Where do you think the M is?" asked Licorice.
"Distracted somewhere else, I'm sure."
"Should I get Bourbon?"
"Let's not burden him yet. Get Pop."
The girl peeled her face away from the table, turning her head in time to see Licorice running off, swinging his arms dramatically for balance. If she had been in any other state she probably would have laughed, but as it was she was barely able to summon her voice. It had been weltering in the depths of her stomach.
"What did you say happened to my back?" She touched her face. There was no feeling in her right cheek.
"The Monstress embroidered your name into your fabric," Scotch said, looking taken aback that she was conscious.
"Em...broidered?!" The girl's body and voice shook with surprise. The table creaked as Scotch leaned against it.
"Yeah, in the same cursive writing she's used on all of us. But we also have numbers, you don't."
"What does it say?"
"'Powdered Sugar.' It's... a long one. Especially to sew into someone that's made of... whatever the hell you're made out of."
"Powdered... Sugar..." mumbled Powdered Sugar, letting the sound of her name bounce around in her head.
"I'd volunteer to pick out all the stitches for you," said Scotch, "but it's in the Monstress' way to repeat everything you will ever try to undo."
"Thanks for letting me know," the girl croaked.
"Powder..." said Scotch. There was a pause, perhaps because he was wondering if the shortened form sounded all right. His voice softened ever so slightly. "Are you well enough to sit up?"
Powder braced her hands at either side of her chest in preparation and then pushed herself from the table. The contraction of her back muscles shifted her skin and fresh fire ran across her embroidery. She stifled the noises her throat was trying to make but her mouth let out a few anyway.
"How's your mobility?" asked Scotch. "I'd say your wires seem tight but I don't think you have any of those."
Powder stood up to let energy spread to her cramped limbs, but she remained bent over from the pain. She looked down at Scotch's feet, those black boots. He was in front of her but she couldn't straighten enough to look up into his face.
"I'm a little foggy," Powder said. "He drugged me... with something."
"Who did?"
"His name was Buttersweet. No, Bitterscotch."
"Bittersweet," Scotch said. "Of course, that knit. Was the drug pink?"
"It wasn't pink."
The doll paced around in circles. Powder sat down again. Hot water bubbled in the corners of her eyes and splashed over her lap. Suddenly the splashes were replaced by a thudding sound and when she opened her eyes she saw Scotch's hand under her chin, catching her tears. They absorbed into his palm, leaving dark rings.
"What is it?" Powder asked, brushing the tears off her cheeks. "Is there a reason you're studying me?"
"I always study the things I'm afraid of," he said, staring into his hand. "You should too. Why is water coming out of your eyes?"
Powder straightened a little and looked at his face, which didn't reveal a whole lot since dolls lacked a lot of subtle expressions.
"You're afraid of me?" she asked.
"Let me say it like this," said Scotch, straightening and tilting his hand in front of his face to look at the tear rings better. "There's one other human here, and she's female too. There isn't a decent thing about her. You show up and she's delighted, taking you off alone with her. That can't be good for us dolls." Scotch looked down at Powder. "I don't know who you are, but while we're finding out I'm observing everything."
"I don't know who I am either," said Powder, almost feeling scared of herself.
"Then we'll be learning together."
There were running footsteps and a moment later Pop and Fizz appeared beside their serious friend. Fizz's drooping dark red sweater was big enough to fit three more dolls.
"Licorice wasn't kidding," Fizz said after surveying the harm. He sat down on the floor in front of the girl. "It's alright, Sweety, you'll be fine." He took one of her clammy hands and patted it.
"No, Powder won't be fine," said Scotch, and everyone looked at him. "This is the first time the Monstress has been toying with a human. If she's done a name embroidery, you know the Globe is next for her."
"The Globe? Does that have to do with the 'productions'?" asked Powder. "Can you explain more about those?"
Pop looked at the others. Scotch shrugged at him and Fizz opened his mouth.
"Well...," he began, "it's like taking a trip into someone else's imagination and getting to experience—"
"—All kinds of horrible things you'd never wanted to know while feeling violated that someone else has control of your body and actions," Scotch finished.
"We are literally dolls our mistress plays with," added Pop. "And since you've got an embroidered name like we do, she might be planning to make you part of her productions too."
"Let's show her the stage," said Scotch, already spinning around and walking away.
"Now?!" said the others.
"Yes, now!" he said. "It's easier to explain that way."
"Can you walk?" Fizz asked Powder, standing up and extending both arms to assist her. Unlike Scotch, to Fizz all things were safe until proven otherwise. He helped Powder to adjust the straps of the dress so they wouldn't touch her wounds but also not fall off her shoulders.
"Yeah, I think so," Powder said, but it became clear while walking a minute later that she had overestimated herself, and spent most of the time leaning on Fizz's right shoulder. She was surprised to find his frame stiff and devoid of warmth. Of course, when she thought about it there was no reason it should be otherwise.
Their destination was nearby. Powder and the dolls walked between a few rooms and came out to the open area with the corner dressing stage. At the far right side from where they stood were two giant doors, and Scotch marched straight over to them, opening the left. It looked as if they were about to walk out into complete darkness.
Once they were all out on the landing, Powder waited for her eyes to adjust. In the expanse of the enormous space before them, a vast, familiar circular shape loomed below. Powder looked upward at the tiers and banisters, long drapes and domed ceiling.
"I've been here before," she said, and everyone halted. Scotch, who had been leading them down a flight of stairs to the circle came back up.
"With the M?" he asked.
"No... before her. Before I met you. I was here."
When the dolls were quiet, it only took a little imagination to believe they had never been moving before. Powder thought it creepy and hated it when they were motionless. Then Scotch said, "Well, let's go down and see if you remember anything else."
"Were the lights on?" Pop asked her.
"No, it was just like it is now. Dark and cold." Powder didn't know if the dolls couldn't or wouldn't turn on the lights, but maybe it had something to do with the protos.
"The Stage," said Scotch when the had all climbed down onto the circular surface, "is where the actual production takes place. We come here usually in costume and wait for it to begin. When it does, you're caught away in the Monstress' imagination. You can't think or act for yourself once it begins."
"At all?" said Powder. "That's... scary."
"It's freeing," said Fizz. "Every care is gone."
"It's like being tied to a chair and pushed off a ledge," said Scotch.
"It's... the only time I think I can feel what it's like to be a human," said Pop. He took off his glasses.
"What usually happens during the productions?" Powder asked.
"Stories," said Pop. "Stories, stories and more stories. The M never ceases to create them."
"So, during a production it's like a play where the M makes you act out scenes from stories?"
"Yes, and anything she thinks of, you do," said Scotch. "Sometimes she can make you feel emotions, sometimes you're just a shell. She controls everything while standing up there, that larger balcony above the stairs we came down." He pointed and everyone looked in the same direction. "But it's just a balcony. No gears or buttons or anything."
Off the edges of the Stage were the entrances to different narrow hallways leading away from the room, and somewhere down one of these halls to the left of the group came a clatter followed by a low guttural hiss.
"I knew it." Licorice backed up. "Those halls are absolutely teeming with protos."
Everyone retreated back to the terrace and through the double-doors, Powder assisted by Fizz. Morbid curiosity kept her glancing over her shoulder in hopes to see what a real proto looked like, but she never did. Scotch closed the door when they got inside. Pop explained that as a rule there were not many locks in the Dollhouse, so the dolls made use of a guard shift and—if there was an outbreak of proto attacks—barricades. Scotch opened the door now and then to make sure there weren't any venturing up near the fitting room.
Pop remained near the door with Scotch while Fizz helped Powder to a nearby chair. Sitting wasn't going to help her back, but it seemed to make him feel like he was helping. "If you were here before by yourself," he asked Powder, "how come the protos didn't get you?"
Powder thought for a moment but had no theory to placate him with.
Scotch did.
"Well, maybe they're scared of her," he said. "Maybe she has a different power from the M's. Or perhaps the M and Bittersweet were down here too but Powder doesn't remember them. For some reason." Here Scotch shot a look at the girl and blinked for the first time. It was slow, and while the Monstress had no doubt designed blinking eyes to add a more human appearance, it made Scotch look more unnatural.
Fizz made a huff and flipped his wrists in the air with dual clicks. "Well, if you're so determined to be this suspicious of Sweety-"
"Powder."
"Powder, then we all need to prepare for a lot of uncomfortable moments ahead!" The good-natured doll suddenly had a look of betrayal cross his face. "Hey... why did you get to decide her new nickname?"
Scotch made a second slow blink.
"How's your fabric holding up?" Pop said to Powder, changing the subject and adjusting his glasses.
Powder tilted her head. "My...?"
"Your 'skin', sorry."
"Oh. It still stings a lot, but the rest of me is feeling better now that I've been walking around." The more Powder thought about her back the more it hurt. She was afraid to see what it looked like in a mirror after having oozed blood and probably pus. "So, what exactly will a proto do to you if it catches you?"
"Well, most of them would like an upgrade from their flappy and deflated bodies," answered Pop. "If they succeed in possessing a doll then they still have the problem of being minded by the M. If they wanted to keep an intact doll body, they'd have to go into deeper hiding, and then have to fight off other protos wanting parts of them. So, usually they'll pull the body apart and just replace a few pieces of themselves. A leg, a hand... I'd say head, but they can't really attach a new head to themselves without help."
"If you don't mind my asking," Powder said, "how is it they can take out your..." She waved her hand in unhelpful circles.
"Take our spirits out of our bodies?" said Pop.
"Yes. So, you're aware of your spirits then?"
"Well yes, that's how we're able to move on our own. If we didn't have spirits then there'd be no difference between an animate doll and an inanimate doll. There's only one way that we know of to take the spirit out of a body, and that's by making a deep incision in our torso," Pop used his hands to portray a length of six or seven inches, "and then allowing open exposure. There might be other ways, but that's only how I've seen it done. A big opening."
"So if you don't want to swap bodies with a proto," concluded Scotch, "don't run off anywhere in the Dollhouse alone." He took a final look out the door to the Stage before shutting it again and nodding to Pop. They both approached Powder's chair. "It's only fair then," said Scotch, "that you tell us how to take a spirit out of a bleeder's body."
"Incidentally," Pop's tone of voice was higher than usual, "I was also wondering how big of an incision it would take to kill a human." He pulled out a large folded paper and a black pencil, which he held in his fist when he wrote.
"A lot of things can kill a human," Powder said. "You don't even need to make an incision, per se. You could just puncture my body with something long and sharp. I could even die from hitting my head on that table." She pointed at one nearby. The dolls stared.
"'Hitting your head'?" said Scotch, rapidly looking Powder up and down. "Are you made of clay?" Fizz kicked him but hurt his foot more than he did Scotch's leg.
"Wow," said Pop. "We were under the impression that you were more durable than we are! The Monstress seems immortal to us."
A short laugh burst out of Powder. "Anything that bleeds has to die," she said, "but I guess I'd made the same assumption about you. Since you were dolls I'd thought you couldn't die."
"'Die' is a word we reserve for bleeders like you," said Scotch. "The Monstress says you need more than fluff and wood and metal bits to make you a living thing that can die. Guess it's whatever's inside you."
"What's inside me is..." Powder had forgotten since her arrival exactly what it meant to be a human. She knew she had blood, but there were other things too. "...Stuff that all works together to keep me alive. My brin... my brain, in my head is the most important... I think." She was pointing to her face and the dolls stared at her head as though they were trying to see through her skull.
"Your 'brain'?" said Pop.
"It's the part that controls the rest of her," said Scotch.
"But doesn't your spirit control your body?" said Fizz.
"Sorry, I think I have forgotten more than I realized," said Powder, a little embarrassed. "But in short, it wouldn't be just cutting me open that could kill me, it could be the loss of blood. Stabbing me could kill me too - perhaps instantly. Anything that makes blood gush out of my body. Or smashing it too much."
All of the dolls were squirming as she spoke and Scotch looked about the room at unimportant things.
"I had no idea bleeders were so fragile!" said Pop. "But this does explain your body's reaction to the embroidery."
Powder felt reluctant to enter the subject of bone breakage or substance effects so she did not continue the topic.
"So, how often does the Monstress put on a production in the...did you call it the 'Globe' earlier?" she asked.
"The Globe is where the production takes place once you're in the M's mind," said Mint, appearing behind everyone and clasping his long arms behind his back. "It's on the Stage but when it begins it feels a bit like being inside of a snow globe. And speaking of productions. We just got a summons."
The dolls groaned. Mint asked Powder how she was. Reluctant to go through the ordeal of showing him her back, Powder said she was okay and none of the others added to this. Mint looked skeptical and opened his mouth but Scotch spoke first.
"Was Powder part of the summons?" he asked.
"Not exactly," said Mint, "but I imagine the M is expecting her to be down here in the Core where she left her."
"Well, let's disappoint her," said Scotch, looking at Powder and almost smiling.