Chapter Text
Taco watched as yet another loose piece of wall came crumbling past her, sighing and shifting her hands to a safer position. She really should’ve taken the easy route and used MePad to teleport in, but she supposed showing up with the deactivated co-host wouldn’t have been the best way to start out the conversation she was determined to have. She didn’t mind the fact that Pickle hadn’t been reading her letters lately, but it would’ve been nice if he’d care to respond to at least one. Couldn’t he see that she was trying? But no, now she had to break into the hotel and sort it all out her way.
She used the window’s ledge to pull herself up, first noticing the smell, then the fact that the window was still open. Had he no concern for his safety? He was lucky she was the one breaking in instead of anyone else. As she pulled herself into the room, though, she realized maybe he hadn’t been quite as lucky as she’d thought. She stared for a moment at the scene, at the blood and vinegar soaking into the carpet. At the internal organs now on the outside. At the two halves of what was once her best friend.
She just stood for a while, staring at the corpse. Eventually, she crouched down beside the body and sighed. “Who’s bad side did you get on for this to happen?” She asked the unresponsive halves, staring into Pickle’s lifeless eyes. Though her words and thoughts ran on logic, her heart tugged a bit to find the one who caused this mutilation. Obviously, Pickle would be revived whenever MePhone decided it was convenient for him, so they could always just ask the object directly, but it would certainly help her image if the killer was caught before he even came back. So there she stayed, examining the body, thinking to herself. Hadn’t she seen someone in the forest earlier that night? She’d been mildly busy trying to drag MePad into a suitable tree, but she knew she’d seen someone run by. Maybe it was that Fan character. She’d seen him going off through the forest a lot recently, so that sounded about right. Though she could hardly imagine someone like that doing all this damage. She hoped, for Pickle’s sake, that it’d been quick.
Standing up and glancing out the window, she saw that she’d been in there for longer than anticipated. No matter. She would’ve preferred to confront the murderer in private, but she was always good at making a scene. She walked down the empty hall, adjusting her bowtie as she went, making sure everything was perfect and just hoping they’d hear her out. She was sure the fact that half of her face was broken into shards would at least garner some sympathy. Perhaps enough to get them to listen.
Making her way down the stairs, she followed the sounds of conversation, stopping outside a brilliant set of oak doors. An oddly grand scene for someone like OJ, but it’d make her entrance all the better. She simply focused her anger, bursting through the doors and giving the residents a moment to quiet down.
“Who did it,” She let the vitriol flow freely in her tone, knowing that as much as she’d like to accuse Fan in front of everyone, they wouldn’t believe her. She’d have to get the object to come clean himself, or perhaps be caught in the act. After waiting a moment, nobody answered, so she continued. “Which one of you mutilated Pickle?”
She watched as they all shared confused and mildly horrified glances. Good, they should be scared. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said mutilated. It would’ve been a disgusting scene if she wasn’t all too accustomed to MePhone’s revival app. She crossed her arms, standing there and waiting for anyone to give an input, but they all seemed a bit lost for words. Finally, Knife spoke up, even if she would’ve preferred to speak to anyone but him. “What are you talking about?”
She watched as people finally snapped out of their silent daze, some leaning over and whispering to their seat partners. Though most of the contestants seemed to be taking her seriously, she supposed she couldn’t expect much from the self proclaimed ‘gossip queens’ Salt and Pepper but to sit there and whisper at eachother like this was all just still television. She turned her attention away from them, and onto the odd object out, the only one who seemed to think of the situation as truly severe, no doubt knowing he was about to be caught. She stared Fan right in the eyes as she spoke her next line, watching the way his expression turned even more horrified.
“Pickle was cut in half and left on the floor of his room. Which one of you did it?”
After another painfully long pause, OJ was the first to speak up, sounding both skeptical and almost horrified. “What? Cut in half ? You’re kidding, right?”
Before Taco could even begin to respond, Soap stood up and bolted out of the room. She shouted out something unintelligible as she left, but it was clear she was just running up to Pickle’s room to quarantine it until she finished her deep cleaning. Taco just sighed at the scene, turning back towards OJ to respond, only to see he wasn’t in his seat anymore either. Just as she looked to see where he’d gone, she was grabbed by the shell, unfortunately in one of the more severely chipped areas. Even though the grab was light, her shell wasn’t well held together, and yet another piece was broken off. A spike of pain shot through her, followed by an immediate dizzy spell. She didn’t have much time to collect herself again before the now regretful breakfast beverage grabbed her by the arm and began to drag her down the hall.
“Un..hand me,” She tried to form words properly, but the pain throbbing through her head was bordering on unbearable.
“Look, I’m sorry about your shell, but I need to see this for myself, and I don’t trust you alone. If you’re lying about Pickle I never want to see your face again, no matter how cracked or damaged it is,” The citrus beverage kept speaking, even though she was clearly in no condition to respond. He chose to take the elevator, which Taco was grateful for, considering dragging her up the stairs wouldn’t have been pleasant for either of them.
By the time they stepped out onto the second floor, she’d finally regained enough strength to keep pace with the beverage, rather than being dragged around. OJ had loosened his grip, but still wouldn’t let go of her arm. She still didn’t feel particularly up to standard however, keeping her other hand against the wall to steady her as they approached Pickle’s room. Before either of them could comment on the gruesome scene before them, they heard what was most likely multiple sets of footsteps approaching from behind. Taco turned around to look, and saw a group consisting of Fan, Lightbulb, Paintbrush, some butterfly looking character, and Trophy. Lightbulb seemed to be half dragging Fan along, saying things like “It’ll be okay, MePhone’ll bring him back in no time!” and “It can’t be that bad, right?” as a form of reassurance. It clearly wasn’t working.
Taco rolled her eyes as they approached, not bothering to warn them as they looked through the doorway into Pickle’s room. She looked over to Lightbulb first, watching as the happy go-lucky object took on an expression of shock and horror. Beside her was Fan, keeping his gaze on the ground, as if he already knew the sight well enough he didn’t need to look again. The butterfly looking one was extending their legs… somehow.. and taking on the scene with a pitying expression.
In the doorway stood OJ, unmoving, staring at the innards on the floor and acting as a sort of block against the others to stop them from properly entering. Well, most of them. Trophy simply pushed past him and walked inside, looking around and taking in the sight with mild disinterest. He seemed to be trying to walk around the organs on the floor, and recoiled a bit when he stepped on the blood soaked carpet. Paintbrush hesitantly walked inside before OJ could block the way again, going to the body and observing closely, though they were clearly uncomfortable. As Taco observed, she figured that this must be an unofficial investigation team.
She watched as the rest of them filed in, looking around and commenting to each other about the scene. They referenced thefts she hadn’t been aware of, bantering while they picked through Pickle’s belongings as if this was just a natural occurrence to them all. Things weren’t entirely alright, but it was clear that most of the group were trying to keep their spirits light. She didn’t really pay much attention to the whole endeavor, until she noticed Soap running their way with enough supplies to deep clean the entire hotel top to bottom. She was wearing some sort of hazmat suit, and shouting as she approached. “OUT OF THE WAY! I HAVE A JOB TO DO!”
The team cleared out of the room, OJ pulling Taco back into the hall and letting everyone through. Taco watched the group all file out, noticing Fan’s miserable attempt at sneaking out the murder weapon. It seemed nobody else noticed, since there were no immediate comments, and he immediately bolted back to his room. She attempted to follow him, but OJ tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her back. “Must you insist on babysitting me, ‘Orange Juice’? I’m not a threat to you,” She scowled at him, attempting to pull out of his grip. She definitely would’ve been able to, if she weren’t severely injured.
“OJ. Call me OJ. And I don’t trust you, so until you’ve proven yourself, you’ll be under supervision,” The beverage spoke to her as if she was a child needing to be punished. Taco rolled her eyes, giving a dirty look to the glass holding her hostage. “You can stay in Pickle’s room after it’s clean if you want. I’ll still be able to keep an eye on you, I’m right across the hall,” He gestured towards his room, before beginning to walk back downstairs, pulling Taco along with him.
She kept pace well enough, walking alongside him back down to the lobby of the building. He sat her down at one of the tables, letting go of her for a moment and walking over to the cabinet to get a first aid kit. Taco considered slipping away while his back was turned, but her headache was messing with her sense of balance, so she probably wouldn’t have made it far. OJ walked back over to her, taking out some smaller bandages from the kit and beginning to attempt to patch her up.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Taco scoffed, sliding herself to the back of the chair to duck away from him.
“You look awful. I figured if I’m welcoming you here, I may as well be hospitable. Now sit still, I’m trying to help you,” He sighed, applying a bandage to one of the more severe cracks.
“I don’t need your help, Juice,” She spat back, wincing slightly at the pain from the pressure being put on her crumbling form.
“You aren’t stopping me, so I’m not going to take your words to heart,” OJ continued to patch her up, and she stayed quiet. As time went on, she watched the hotel inhabitants as they went about their day, some giving her worried glances, others shooting dirty looks as they passed by. She avoided looking around the room as Mic went through. That was a situation she wasn’t quite ready to deal with yet.
After what felt like a while, OJ finished up. He packed up the kit, tucking everything back into its proper place with a sigh. “I did as much as I could, but it definitely doesn’t look nice…”
“I didn’t assume it would. My face is falling apart, the only thing you’ve succeeded in doing is making the sight in my right eye worse,” Taco responded, unenthused. She never needed his help, she only accepted it because she had no other choice. She knew she’d fall apart eventually. This was simply prolonging the inevitable.
“I think you mispronounced ‘Thanks for your help, OJ!’” He replied with extreme sarcasm. She thought, bitterly, that maybe he’d been around Nickel too long.
“No, I don’t think I misspoke at all, actually,” Taco shot back, sounding as annoyed as she felt. The comment earned her a glare from OJ, to which she gave a sly smirk. OJ sighed, pulling a chair over and sitting across from Taco. He kind of just stared at her for a bit, and she had to check behind her before realizing that he’d simply spaced out. She leaned against the table with a groan, not looking forward to the rest of the day. At the very least she could leave come nightfall, exiting out of Pickle’s window the same way she came in. Hopefully nobody’d seen MePad. Her hiding spot was painfully obvious, if you knew well enough to look up.
After a while of idling, watching the residents go by and try to pretend she wasn’t right there, OJ brought himself back to reality. He pulled himself up out of his seat, walking to the nearby wall-mounted phone. He never took his eyes off of Taco, who’d already decided to listen intently to the impending conversation. She watched as he dialed the number, waiting less patiently than the glass beverage for the phone to be answered. She was about one ring away from telling him to give up when somebody’d actually picked up.
“Hello? MePhone?” OJ paused as the phrase was responded to. “Yeah, it’s OJ, it’s about Pickle,” OJ listened again, tapping his foot in annoyance with a sigh. “Of course I want you to come down and revive him,” He grew more annoyed at whatever response he was given this time. “What do you mean you can’t? Don’t you own a plane?” As he listened, his expression changed from annoyance to pure shock, before he went back to looking absolutely fed up. “Alright, alright, whatever. Just get down here as soon as possible.” He hung up the phone without waiting for a response, collapsing back down into his chair in an exhausted manner.
“So, how did that conversation go?” Taco asked, sounding intentionally smug to grate on the already ticked off hotel owner.
“Just great, MePhone will be here in a few days to revive Pickle,” OJ grit his teeth as he spoke, clearly not in the mood.
Taco took a breath before responding, but before she could say anything OJ perked up, clearly having had some bright idea. He stood up and grabbed her by the arm again, dragging her clear across the lobby to the dining room. “Where are you taking me this time?” She groaned, already noticing how inconvenient it was to walk around now that she’d been rendered practically half blind.
“Somewhere you’ll be someone else's problem!” He responded with what had to be the most glee she’d heard in his voice since he won the first season.
“Oh great, pushing me off onto other people. How responsible of you,” The bitter sarcasm dripped from her every word. Unwillingly, she followed OJ through the dining room to the connected kitchen, where Paintbrush and a spoon she didn’t recognize were having a conversation. OJ cleared his throat to get their attention, at which they looked over and stared down at Taco.
“This is your chosen helper today! Have fun! I’ll see you at lunch!” OJ bolted out the door before anyone could get a word in, slamming it behind him. What followed was a slightly awkward silence between the three left in the room. It seemed they were all at a loss for words at the situation. Taco eventually sighed, turning her attention towards the spoon and holding out her hand as a friendly introductory gesture.
“Hello, I’m Taco. You are?” She put on a more professional persona, though she was quite annoyed at the idea she was just ‘someone else’s problem’ now.
“Silver Spoon,” He shook her hand with a smile, and Taco immediately had a good feeling about him. From the way he presented himself to the way he spoke, he exuded a level of professionalism such that she knew they’d get along well.
However, the same could not be said for her and the other object in the room. She and Paintbrush exchanged a quick glance at one another, and she found herself averting her gaze and busying herself fixing her bowtie, before looking to Silver Spoon again. “So, Silver Spoon, what exactly am I doing here?” She inquired.
“Well, we were just about to start making lunch for the hotel. And please, call me Silver,” He gave a chuckle, and Taco gave a finally genuine smile back at him.
Paintbrush cut into the conversation at that, a tone of slight annoyance in their voice. “Alright, well, I’m going to get started on the banana bread, you can start on whatever. You get to instruct Taco, I’m not fond of her,”
“Hmm.. Well, today was going to be..” Silver trailed off, looking at Taco and immediately changing the menu for the day. “Let’s see, what do we have available to us?”
Silver began to rummage through the cabinets, pulling out different ingredients in an attempt to get inspiration. Paintbrush gave him a bewildered look. “Silver, what are you doing? Today was supposed to be-”
“No no, none of that Painty. I am trying to get inspiration right now!” Silver interrupted, which was met with an eye roll and Paintbrush minding their own business. As he continued to ransack the cabinets, he started handing things to Taco and instructing her on what to do. She wasn’t quite sure what they were making, but she ended up slicing a lot of tomatoes, cucumbers and cheese. Silver worked on the other side of the kitchen, dicing and cooking different meats with a clearly practiced ease. Paintbrush was more focused on making pastries, and ended up baking banana bread, chocolate chip muffins and some cookies. When it was all put together, they had a sandwich and salad bar with some nice treats. They carried out everything in trips, setting it down on the table’s odd rotating mechanism. Taco brought out the last of the plates as everyone got situated at the table, and Paintbrush and Silver sat down in their respective spots.
She looked around for a moment, noticing there were only two empty seats. One was between Tissues and Trophy, and the other was between OJ and Bomb. She decided she’d rather risk catching Tissues’ disease than sit next to OJ, and stepped around the table towards the empty seat beside the diseased contestant. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it far, being picked up from behind by OJ with absolutely no warning and placed in the seat next to him. She sighed, glaring daggers at the glass as she grabbed a pastry from the mechanism in front of her. As she got herself situated in her spot, she noticed a cup of tea had been set out for her. It was black. She stared at it for a moment, wondering if it was even worth the effort, before unceremoniously spitting half a lemon into her hand and squeezing some of the juice into her tea.
She set down the now drained fruit, taking a spoon to briefly stir it. As she was doing that, she looked up, making eye contact with Fan, who was sitting directly across the table from her. She kept her eyes on him as she took a sip of the tea, a grin spreading across her face as she set the cup back down. Fan just stared back, still looking vaguely nauseous and worried.
Taco continued to stare him down for the entirety of lunch. She watched as he ate, occasionally glancing up at her and then back down at the table whenever they made eye contact. She watched as he exchanged whispers with Test Tube, and once they were finished eating they both left the table together. She would’ve liked to follow them, but she wasn’t currently ‘allowed’ to leave. After most of the residents cleared out, OJ turned to her.
“Are you done being creepy?” He seemed a lot less annoyed than before, which she assumed was due to Paper’s presence beside him.
“Ah yes, observing the people around me is creepy. How rude of me,” She turned to look at him with a bored expression.
“It is when you spend an entire half an hour practically glaring at Fan,” He retorted.
“Well, I’m so sorry that when I see a suspicious figure, I want to keep an eye on them,” Taco huffed, turning away from OJ and back to what was left of her pastries.
“Oh, like how I have to keep an eye on you?” OJ scoffed, leaning onto the table, moving himself back into her field of view.
“Me? Suspicious? What could bring you to that conclusion?” She was almost outraged at the accusation. All she’d done was help!
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you showing up the day a friend’s murdered? You manipulating multiple people? Hiding an entire alter ego for a year and a half? Oh, or trying to steal my rightfully earned money! How’s that for reasons not to trust you?” He’d gradually raised his voice throughout the small speech, to the point Paper had placed a gentle hand on OJ’s arm in what was probably supposed to be a soothing gesture. It clearly didn’t help.
“Did you not see that he took the weapon off of the floor of Pickle’s room? Not to mention I’ve seen him running about the forest in the middle of the night. There’s something going on with him, and I intend to find out what,” Taco had turned back to fully look at him by this point, trying to keep a calmer tone as she defended herself. Surely he had to see the truth, right?
“You’ve been watching us? Also, he goes out for walks when he can’t sleep, I’ve caught him coming back in before. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to make up lies about the people I trust,” She couldn’t believe it. He’d seriously more willingly take the side of a murderer than her? She supposed she shouldn’t have expected much from him.
Making a split-second decision, she got up from her seat and bolted. She ran down the hallway, towards the front door, intending on leaving. If nobody was going to listen to her, she’d simply go back to watching from an outside perspective and solve things her way. Her luck was rotten, however, and OJ caught up to her. She was grabbed by the back of her shell, on one of the intact pieces thankfully, and yanked into the air not unlike a kitten taken by the scruff.
“I can keep up with you at your best, what made you think I couldn’t catch up this time?” OJ raised an eyebrow at her with a smug smile.
“Put me down, you heathen! I am not a child!” Taco was wildly swinging her arms at his glass. Alas, her arms were too short.
“Look, Taco, I really don’t want to deal with you, but I have no other choice right now. For one thing, you’re spying on us. I can’t let that continue. For another, someone was murdered this morning. I can’t in good conscience let you continue running around the forest doing whatever it is you do out there alone. So, for right now, you’re grounded,” OJ began walking upstairs without letting her go, leaving Taco upset and defenseless to stop him from carrying her around like a stuffed animal. She heard snickering that was undoubtedly from Nickel as they passed through the hall, and she’d caught a smug glance from Knife as well. Once they reached the end of the second floor hallway, she was set down in Pickle’s room, and the door was shut behind her.
She’d figured she could just leave through the window, but turned around and quickly realized it’d been boarded up. That must have been what OJ was up to while she was with Silver and Paintbrush. No matter, she’ll just sneak out through another room's window. She walked back to the door, grabbing the doorknob and turning her wrist.
Click. The doorknob didn’t turn, just clicked. Click click click, that’s all it did. She rattled the knob over and over, but it didn’t budge. Odd, she could’ve sworn the doors all locked from the inside. Maybe he’d messed with that, too. She couldn’t quite tell from here. After a few more tries, just to make absolutely certain it wasn’t simply stuck, she gave up, slumping down against the door in defeat. She brought her knees to her chest, hiding her arms away in her shell like she’d used to. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, she’d managed to make her situation worse than it had been for the past few years. She certainly hadn’t planned on telling OJ about Fan before she had the proof she was looking for. That was what’d messed it all up. Of course he’d be protective over everyone in the hotel. And she’d broken in and accused one of being a murderer. Lovely.
After sulking against the door for a few more minutes, she sighed and stood up, not bothering to pull her arms back out. Decidedly, the best use of her time at the moment was to rest. She wasn’t sure quite how long she’d be left in here, but she certainly didn’t want to be caught trying to get out again once somebody came to let her out.
She looked around for a moment, going to the bed she assumed wasn’t Pickle’s. It was a bit hard to tell, since Soap had cleaned so well the room almost felt uninhabited. She wrapped herself in the blankets and laid there, closing her eyes and trying not to get wrapped back up in her thoughts. She hadn’t realized quite how much she’d missed sleeping in a proper bed. She hadn’t had the comfort of an actual bed in.. Well, she couldn’t remember. She didn’t get the chance to think too hard about it though, as she was quickly drifting off into sleep.
Her nap was interrupted after a while by a conversation going on outside her door. It was pretty quiet, so she couldn’t make out most of the words, but she recognised one of the voices, even if she couldn’t quite place it. She tried to listen, but the more she focused the more her head began to hurt again. She sat up and looked through the cracks in the boards on the window. The sun was setting, they were probably sent to get her for dinner.
Just as she was about to tell them to leave, the door opened and another object Taco had no knowledge of entered the room. They made eye contact and gave her a sympathetic smile. They approached, and Taco realized that they had no legs, instead rolling across the carpet on wheels that squeaked slightly as they moved. Taco watched, waiting for the right opportunity to make a run for it.
“Hello there,” Taco was startled out of her focus when the object spoke up. “My name is Cabby, and you’re Taco, correct?”
She sighed, pulling her arms back out of her shell and standing up. “Who else would I be?” she gave a slightly annoyed look at Cabby, slowly stepping closer to the door. She’d woken up with too much of a headache to be cordial.
“Right, right..” Cabby trailed off slightly, clearly lost in thought.
“So, why exactly are you here?” Taco sighed, close enough now to see that there was no way to leave without getting Cabby to move.
“Oh! Yes! I was sent to grab you for dinner. Shall we go?” She wheeled out the door, and while obviously still in thought, seemed careful to keep an eye on Taco. She reluctantly followed, keeping a hand on the wall for stability. She considered slipping through one of the half-open doors and attempting an escape from there, but it would be far too risky. As she focused on getting to the elevator, she noticed Cabby beginning to mumble under her breath.
“Hm?” Taco turned her gaze towards her guide, who looked a bit startled by the interest.
“Oh, just thinking aloud. I’m wondering if the investigation team has a lead on any of the crimes committed here lately. Pickle’s case in particular is a.. concerning escalation,” Cabby explained as they made their way down the hall.
“Pickle’s actually why I came here in the first place. He and I used to be good friends. I was planning on reconciling on the anniversary of our.. falling out, but it seems I got here just a bit too late. I do have a lead of my own, unfortunately given the circumstances I haven't gotten the chance to follow it up yet,” Taco remarked, a bitter undertone in her voice.
“What circumstances?” Cabby slowed her pace a bit, looking over curiously.
“That bitter breakfast beverage refuses to trust me. All I've done in my time here is try to help, and he repays me by locking me in a room all afternoon,” Even as she complained, she kept a close eye on the object beside her.
“Oh my. Perhaps you could join the investigation team? At the very least you wouldn’t be locked in that room all day,” It was a harmless enough suggestion. Cabby clearly wasn’t aware of the full situation, and Taco wasn’t about to tell her, but things seemed to be working out well regardless.
“That could work, but we both know they’d never let me in on my own, and nobody here likes nor trusts me enough to speak in my favor,” Taco hoped she didn't sound too desperate. She hadn't interacted with others in quite some time, and as much as she hated to admit it, she needed the help. In terms of companions, Cabby was certainly pleasant enough to work with, and it’d be nice to have another figure to assist in her… for lack of a better word, schemes.
“I can help with that. If no one else, I'll be on your side,” Clearly, Cabby was trying to be reassuring. Taco didn’t quite mind that it was working.
“Thank you, it's nice to know that someone understands,” A smile spread across her face as they reached the elevator. Things might just go her way after all.
As they reached the bottom floor, their conversation ceased. They made their way to the dining area, and Taco sat in her designated seat next to OJ. Cabby took her place nearby, striking up a conversation with the tired hotel owner.
“OJ! I’d like to talk to you quickly about the investigation team,” She started, and OJ looked up to reply to her.
“What about it?” He seemed pretty dead on his feet.
“We were hoping to join,” Cabby gestured, trying to indicate she meant her and Taco.
“Oh, uh, you can join, sure, just let Bot know. As for Taco..” He trailed off, looking at her with slight concern.
“I’m right here. No need to speak as though I’m not,” She stated, slightly annoyed but managing to keep her cool. It wouldn’t do good for her to have to miss out on dinner.
“Oh, yeah, right. I’m not sure I can let you join,” He sighed.
“Well, wouldn’t it be convenient to know exactly where she is when it comes to meetings? Not to mention the amount of time and energy saved on trying to keep her from leaving,” Cabby tried to justify letting Taco join, though she seemed unsure as to why Taco wasn’t allowed to leave in the first place.
“Alright, alright. I’ll see both of you tomorrow at the meeting to discuss the murder, for now let’s just eat,” OJ seemed defeated. He certainly didn’t want to agree, especially after the argument earlier, but he was simply too tired to argue. Cabby smiled triumphantly, busying herself grabbing her food off the mechanism. Taco slumped down in her chair slightly with a groan. These next few days were going to be something, that’s for sure.