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It's been a while since the President disappeared.
Maxilla could not tell how long was it. Days? Weeks? Months? Maybe even a year? Ever since he heard the announcement and saw the missing posters, all he could think was bullshit. No way that's real. It can't be, he can't be gone. But everything else in his life proved this matter of fact, one that he denied for so long.
He felt so close. So close to being the closest to "normal" as he could be. Did they both fly too high to the Sun? Did they both hope for a bit too much? To be better than what the world assigned them to be? Maybe - and this is their punishment.
Mr Maxilla bawled his eyes out with no end. His guilt only piled further and further, barely being able to keep Maxfun open. Some children would ask why were there tears pouring out of his eyes, and in response he'd attempt to quickly brush off and wipe his face. The employees knew what was going on, but didn't want to say a word.
Soon, he got an idea. One he'd deeply regret.
What if he rebirthed the President? Into a new, metalic, unorganic form?
Yes, it wouldn't be them - but it would serve her role. Even if for just a bit. Just so Maxilla can hold onto that hope that one day he will come back and everything will go back to normal. Just like back then.
He quickly got to work. His mind wasn't clear, not at all. All he could think of is wanting for him to come back. To go back in time where things were more okay. Where he could melt into President's comforting, gentle arms. When it seemed they were both going to be okay one day - two broken people working towards a better future.
Maxilla recalled the day when Maxfun was first open. Never more in his life has he felt so much joy, completely forgetting his own gimmick. For the first time in his life, his crushing guilt was put away from his shoulders. Even if for just a bit. He went on his own rides, ones which he made blueprints of so carefully and slowly made them into reality. It brought Maxilla so much delight, seeing what he crafted be here, right where he stood and seeing so many people enjoying what he created. He couldn't ask for anything more than to make people happy.
But now the person who helped him is gone. And Maxilla ended up being one of the ones paying for it.
Nights and days he spent not wake, but trying to recreate the one whom he loved so much. He started from their large torso, made his way up to the arms and down to the legs. He dug out many photos of him and the President, anything he could find. Anything he could use as a reference. Anything he could use to remember exactly how he looked. He didn't want to make mistakes. He could not afford to.
Eventually, he finally got to the head. For an unknown reason, he seemed to struggle. The proportions were fine, but the expression never seemed right enough. He tried, again and again, to recreate it - but nothing worked. He ended up throwing most of those heads in the garbage. The next couple of days were spent on staring at photographs, searching for more of them trying not to think about the events that transpired.
Soon, he stumbled upon a commonality upon them. One he should've seen earlier, that was so obvious, but he didn't notice before.
She's smiling.
In each one of the photographs Maxilla's found, the President is smiling or laughing so lightheartedly. A smile that before warmed his heart, but now just made him feel worse.
He knew he could never recreate xyr smile. Not authentically. What he felt was wrong with the expressions on the robot wasn't how it looked, rather how it felt. It didn't feel genuine. But there's no way it could ever be. So, instead of repeating the process to infinity, he recognized it wouldn't work and stuck with one of the heads he thought looked the best. He has gone too far to give up, anyway.
And there it was.
He finished it.
The robot was exactly like the President except how it felt. Every part of it looked real enough if you didn't look at it for more than three seconds. Although, the face always seemed wrong. It was stuck in this permanent smile, a horrid grin that felt haunting. But Maxilla didn't really care anymore. If he'd try to make anything better, he'd fail. This is as good as I can do, he thought.
Finally, he revealed his plans to the employees near closing time. It's been the first time they've seen him in months, and he's back with a giant, creepy President look-a-like, rambling about how it's just a temporare replacement until President comes back. They felt pity and listened to him.
To say it was a mistake would be the understatement of the century.
It was almost like something took it over. The robot launched itself at the employees and ruthlessly tore them to bits, part by part. Some quickly made a plan, to run through the Funidoors in vain hopes of an escape. How wrong they were as their ears picked up on metal clanking, approaching them closer. Closer. Closer.
All Maxilla could do is watch in terror. He was frozen, unable to do anything. Now he has to live with the fact that what he made has now ended lives of people. Many people that he knew.
Maxfun was shut down that day.
For the longest time, Maxilla fought with his creation. Sometimes quite literally, sometimes quite not.
It was built to comfort him, to make him believe that President is still somewhere, that they'll return and they will both laugh at this in the future. It once represented hope, but now it represented all he loathed. And of course it was all his fault that it ended up like this. Whose else would it be? He built the damned thing. He had no one else to blame. Not like he'd blame anyone else anyway.
There were days where he never stood up. All he could do is lay on the bed and drown in his own guilt. What else could he do?
There were days where the robot tried to comfort him. They were one of the worst. It tried to replicate her gentleness and warmth. All Maxilla felt was cold metal rubbing against his skin. And he couldn't run away from it. It wouldn't let him, be if it wanted him to suffer or not. He eventually learned himself to get used to the coldness, but it didn't make him feel any better.
He swore he could hear it laugh on some days.
One day Maxilla decided enough was enough. He knew the machine could not hurt him, no matter how much it wanted to, if at all. He sealed it in yet another being - a now sentient mascot from his comics. He hid the part of the Wish he had been given inside it as well, with the hopes that neither of those things will see the light of day again.
Maxilla ended up burning all the comics with that pink cat he had left lying around that day as well.
And still, for a seemingly sadistic god-like being, his suffering wasn't enough.
Not long after what happened, he found himself in a dark alley of his own park. His body has been into a living orgami, his bones and muscles bending and twisting to unbelievable degree. All by someone he once knew. It was like a sick joke. He couldn't even feel the pain because of how overwhelmed his pain receptors were.
Over time, he learned how to deal with this new body. Three weeks took him to learn how to walk without crawling on the floor or trying to hold tight onto the walls. He still used a cane to help himself. It was still extremely painful whenever he'd move, but at that point, he didn't care. He was preoccupied by trying to recall and draw the culprit's face. What was their head shaped like? What did their face look like? How tall were they? He could not remember.
For two weeks he couldn't even draw like he used to, something he always knew how to do, all because of how deformed his hands and arms were. Maxilla never picked up drawing again after his attempts.
What remained of him is a broken man. A man ruthlessly punished by the world just for wanting to heal, whom worked so hard to get opprotunities to be better. The only thing he wished for now is for him to live in a world where he could be free of his guilt. Free of this pain. Even if it took someone else taking him over.
Little did he know, he would soon get visitors. Clueless about the world outside their walls. And soon, they would change his life, for the better or worse.
He'll just have to wait and see just for a little longer.