Beneath Their Masks: Pirate's Life

“Blu, you’re out of tune.”

“No I’m not, Spring is.”

“Blu, you are very obviously out of tune,” Chii chastised, crossing her arms. “You literally just turned the tuning knob!”

Mangle snickered as Blu, very purposefully, twisted the tuning knob on his guitar again. “I’m not out of tune,” he claimed innocently.

“Blu, put your guitar back in tune,” Chii commanded, staring their friend down. “Before I do it myself.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Spring laughed, glancing towards the clock. “It’s 7:15, the buses are about to start coming in.”

“Which means practice is over,” Mangle sighed melodramatically, setting their drumsticks down. Blu made a face but lifted his guitar up over his head, making his way over to the case sitting on the shelf. “I wonder what will happen today?” the fox mused aloud, sliding their drumsticks back into their bag while Chii moved her keyboard into the back room.

“Knowing our luck?” Spring snorted, zipping his case up. “Probably get into an argument with a teacher. Again.”

“Hey,” Mangle started, pointing at Spring, “that wasn’t even our fault, the teacher was wrong.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to declare it very loudly in the middle of class,” Blu pointed out, ear flicking as he looked over at Mangle. “Seriously, that was kinda dumb.”

“I was distracted,” Mangle huffed, pulling their bag up onto their shoulder. “And it just suddenly occurred to me. You know how I get when I’m dreamin’.”

“Yeah, we do,” Chii giggled, bounding over to Mangle to pick her own bags up from where they laid by the drumset. “I thought it was kinda funny how her face went all purple.”

“I thought she was about to have a heart attack,” Blu countered, shaking his head. “I was tryin’ to figure out how to explain that one to the authorities! “Yeah, my friend corrected Mrs. Mittel and she just died!” How ridiculous and suspicious would that sound?”

“People don’t die for being corrected,” Alfred informed the rabbit, clearly amused. “Then again...”

“Alfred, don’t encourage him,” Mangle jokingly scolded the bear as they headed out the door. They had a free period right then- how Spring managed to get them a first-thing-morning free period, Mangle had no idea, but they didn’t mind at all- so they had nowhere to actually go, but it was school policy that any student with a free period must either be off campus, in the courtyard, making up missed work for a teacher, or in one of the designated rooms; the study or library. No loitering in halls, no hanging around the cafeteria, no going to the gymnasium or outdoor track without a prior arrangement, nothing.

“I don’t need encouragement,” Blu cackled as they headed for the courtyard, which always had a teacher or two watching it. “I’m perfectly capable of misbehaving without any assistance.”

They all laughed at that, shaking their heads and steadfastly ignoring the students milling about them. “I’m sure,” Spring chuckled, reaching over and jokingly patting the rabbit’s head. “Little innocent bunny, hide those horns.”

At least he didn’t say-

“Bunny-bab,” Chii coughed, and immediately Blu and Spring burst into laughter and Alfred just chuckled.

“Nooo!” Mangle groaned, though they couldn’t resist a small laugh of their own as they leaned against Spring’s arm. “Spring, are the cakes worth it?!”

“Of course!” Spring responded, laughing as he gently pushed Mangle off of him. Then he opened the door to the courtyard and held it open for them, gesturing them out with a fanciful flourish. “Ladies first,” he added teasingly to them all.

Mangle tilted their head innocently at their friend, folding their hands in front of them. “Then shouldn’t you go on through? Don’t leave the gentlemen waiting,” they joked, and Spring stuck his tongue out at them.

“Well, I am a lady,” Chii mock-sniffed as she headed through the door, “so thanks!” Mangle snorted as Chii sent them a grin from outside in the courtyard. If they got any strange looks from their classmates, Mangle neither noticed nor cared as they watched Blu flounce on through the door, lightly shoving Chii- just on her arm, Mangle noted dutifully.

Mangle followed their friends through and Alfred and Spring both followed suit, heading towards one of the round tables sitting in the sunshine. It was warm and so nice on their fur, so Mangle dropped down in a seat and stretched their arms out, laying their head on the table.

“Nnng, the sun feels so nice,” they sighed, listening as Alfred pulled a fifth chair up between themself and Spring. “We should eat lunch out here today.”

“Agreed,” Alfred chuckled, settling down.

“Should we double-check our math homework?” Spring asked once they were all seated. “That way the teacher over there doesn’t keep giving us the evil eye...”

“I think we should check English,” Chii countered, shrugging slightly. “Mrs. Mittel, I think, would take ten points for an awkwardly worded sentence.”

“Like that one?” Mangle teased, grinning at their friend. Chii snorted and waved her hand dismissively.

“Hey guys, do you think it’s worth the zero for me to write an entire essay in Spanish, just to mess with her?” Blu asked with a small grin.

“If you do that, I’ll write the same exact essay in French,” Mangle grinned, and the other three just rolled their eyes.

“Probably not but one zero won’t completely decimate your grade,” Spring reasoned with a shrug. “If you do, though, don’t do it on a major essay. Or group project. Get a zero on any of those and you will absolutely destroy your grade.”

“Journal entry,” Alfred suggested and Blu nodded thoughtfully in response.

“Point, point,” he agreed. “Man, you guys should learn a second language just so you can do that, too.”

Chii laughed and shook her head. “Sorry,” she started, “but I don’t think ten months is nearly enough time for us to learn how to fluently speak a second language.”

“Then write the entry or essay and we’ll translate,” Mangle suggested, grinning. “Ooh, we can even switch off- one paragraph in Spanish, the other in French! Mrs. Mittel won’t know what the fuck is goin’ on.”

“I think it’d look suspicious if all five of us did that,” Spring deadpanned, though his lips were turned up in a slight grin. Obviously he found the thought more amusing than he was willing to admit. “We’ll see if you can manage to convince us before school’s over.”

“Downgrade it to a simple homework assignment and maybe,” Chii added as she pulled a notebook out.

“Aw, but that’s boring,” Blu whined jokingly, eyes sparking. “How about a final exam?”

“Oh hell no,” Alfred snorted, reaching across Spring to flick the giggling rabbit’s ear. Blu stuck his tongue out at the bear. “Besides, that’s in-class.”

“Ah well,” Mangle chuckled, sitting up and picking their bookbag up onto their lap. It occurred to them that they had none of the books they needed that day, but they figured they’d be fine... maybe. Hopefully. “We didn’t even have anything for Mrs. Mittel, anyway, Chii, so let’s check over math.”

“Oh yeah... I’m so used to having lines,” Chii laughed, shaking her head. “Right. Math it is!”

Man, did Mangle love their silly little family...

The fox glanced up towards the passing teacher, hoping he would stop and explain the equation to them- step-by-step, preferably- but the teacher hardly glanced at them- he’s sneering, what the hell- before simply moving on. Mangle frowned, watching the teacher stop at someone else’s desk to help.

Oh no, you’re one of those people, aren’t you? Well fuck you too, Mr. Fueller, they decided, simply dropping their pencil and leaning on their hand. I don’t know what I’m doing.

A cursory glance around the classroom showed that very few people were actually trying to do the worksheet; Alfred was still trying, though a sharp frown and a displeased crease of his brow told Mangle that he was not happy about it. Behind him Chii was simply twirling her pencil and staring blankly at the worksheet, and behind her Spring just seemed completely lost.

Another sweep around the classroom showed Henderson leaning back in his seat, glaring angrily towards the teacher- well someone’s frustrated- and more than a few students with their heads down on their desks.

I have the feeling someone is going to be complaining about this guy, Mangle thought, turning back to the board in front of the classroom. Mr. Fueller continued to ignore them. Maybe I’ll have a talk with Spring about dropping this bullshit class, we can take calculus instead...

Since doing the classwork without their textbook to assist them, Mangle simply closed their eyes and listened to the sounds around; the low murmuring of their teacher, a frustrated growl in the back, pencils across paper... Now wouldn’t it be nice to just sit here and forget...

The bell ringing broke through their thoughts, and they opened their eyes to watch as most of the class leapt out of their seats and raced towards the door. A collision outside immediately prompted a fight and Mangle sighed, standing up out of their seat. The Fazcrew made their way towards the door and Mangle turned around and headed towards Alfred’s desk.

When they reached the bear’s desk, they leaned on it with a heavy sigh. “First week of school,” they started, “and there’s already a fight. It’s like this place is full of brutes.”

“Give them a break, Mangle,” Spring started, looking over at them. “They’re just letting off steam.”

Spring was the last person Mangle knew who would defend people getting into fights, so it seemed strange to Mangle that he would call two guys punching each other “letting off steam.” They started to point that out, but then there was a fleshy smack from across the room.

“Ow!”

Startled, Mangle turned around to look over at Jones, who was holding his nose. Henderson was laughing and one of the Fazbears was smirking, and Sanchez looked very exasperated, the fox noticed.

“Stop laughin’!” Jones growled to his rabbit friend.

“Never!” the rabbit responded with no hesitance. However, Mangle noted, he seemed to have accrued some bad karma; he had hardly taken three steps forwards when his feet got caught and he went tumbling down.

It would have been funny... if Mangle didn’t see Henderson’s arm collide very painfully with the desks and the beams underneath- how he managed that one, Mangle decided to just chalk it up to luck.

Without even thinking about it, Mangle grabbed their own wrist, the day they’d lost it very clear in their mind. They glanced towards the ceiling tiles, reminding themselves that it wasn’t like that, stop...

They could remember those hands shoving them roughly to and holding them against the cold tiled floor, their own hand slamming down on something sharp and metal and painful it hurt so bad daddy why please stop more than a few times, and that knife... that knife-

Their breath hitched. No no no, stop thinking about it, Mangle, it’s in the past now, the past... Think about... your friends, your friends, they’re here and they know and they keep you safe, it’s okay now...

Saturday we’ll go down to the park and play War by the Water, have a good picnic with cake and sandwiches and soda, play some music, and just enjoy the last bits of our youth while we can-

Gah! Happy, Mangle, happy! Imagine it- Blu and Spring playing their guitars, Alfred and Chii singing, you just soaking in the peace, Plushie running around and playing and sometimes coming back over for a sip of his juice- your makeup is going to get absolutely ruined and you’re gonna love every second of it, just laughing and enjoying the moment... maybe we’ll convince Alfred to try out makeup, himself- probably not, he’ll threaten to shove us out a window again...

Then we’ll set up a tent in Spring’s back yard and just camp out... with lots of blankets and pillows and s’mores-

“-Mangle and me, though.”

The sound of their name pulled the fox out of their thoughts, and they realized that they were- in English?

Not exactly sure when or how that happened, they turned to their friends. “Huh?” they started, hoping their confusion would be understood.

Blu simply answered with, “Mr. Fueller.”

Instantly, the fox understood. “Oh yeah,” they started, glancing towards the ceiling, “he actually sneered at me.” Huffing softly, Mangle added, “I don’t think he likes immigrants.”

“I’m not an immigrant, though,” Blu immediately pointed out. Mangle resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

“Yeah,” they agreed, “but your parents are. And your name is very Spanish,” the fox added matter-of-factly, “so-”

“Excuse me, you five,” an annoyingly nasal voice cut in, irritation more than slightly audible, and Mangle winced, turning their gaze towards the teacher in the front. “Class has begun."

I did not know the bell rang...

“Sorry!” Chii responded almost instantly, and just like that their conversation was over. Breathing out, Mangle settled down and began balancing their pencil on their right hand.

Might as well entertain themself...

Mangle frowned and closed their right eye, tilting their head at the still-life. Sure, closing their eye didn’t exactly do anything, but it felt better to them if they at least looked the part. With care, they proceeded to put the pencil against the page- it was much harder than it looked when you only had one functioning eye- and began sketching out the image they saw.

Of course, the fox was used to the problems that generally came with being half-blind; they had almost mastered mentally substituting the image they would have seen with their right eye, and even if every now and then they leaned too close or bumped their forehead they mostly had it under control.

With a satisfied little grin, now that they could feel their way around the page they began sketching, their eyes flicking between their work and the still life, taking in the angles and curves. They concentrated on the outline remembering that you are not drawing the still-life, you are drawing the negative space. Negative space- it was somewhat of a confusing concept to them, but-

Across the room, Jones tripped right over Sanchez’s easel and stumbled, falling down. Mangle watched with growing horror as his pencils and brush scattered across the floor...

And the cup of ink shatter on the ground, sending ink flying up and across.

If I get anything on my fur my parents will absolutely murder me! Fuck!

With that thought in mind, they dropped their pencil onto the easel and leapt out of the line of fire- and, somehow, they found themself on the counter in their little corner of the room.

Turning around, Mangle saw Chii hiding behind Spring and Blu standing near the back table, almost right next to Marion. Alfred was attempting to wipe ink off of his arm while Spring just looked down at his ink-splattered shirt. Mangle glanced at their easels; a bit of ink had hit Spring’s page, but Alfred, Chii, and Blu’s own easels were turned in a way that protected the pages from the offending liquid.

Mangle’s page wasn’t so lucky.

Man, that ink really splattered, they thought, grinning slightly as Spring turned to look at the shorter bear. His green shirt had spidery black tendrils of ink extending from a splotch, and there was a whip-like mark going up his cheek and right over his eye. He gave no indication of discomfort, so Mangle guessed that he had blinked in time to avoid getting blinded. If I had to guess, it’s ‘cause of the way the cup hit the floor...

“Hey, Al,” Spring started, pointedly ignoring the hyena-like laugh from the head cheerleader, “you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.”

Alfred simply smirked at their friend and tapped his cheek. Yeah, well, you got somethin’ on your face, that gesture stated, and Spring’s eyes widened. His hand flew up to his cheek, just barely touching the ink setting into his fur, and Mangle opened their mouth to say something.

“Well, Springtrap,” another voice interrupted, and Mangle’s gaze- as well as more than a few others’, they noticed- snapped over to the blonde cheerleader in the room. She was leaning against her easel and giving them all a cocky little smirk. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

Oh no you did not.

Immediately, Mangle was back at their friends’ sides, as were Blu and Chii, and they glared darkly at the human. She didn’t seem very aware that she had just crossed a boundary- a boundary that none of them accepted.

Honestly, it was a big reason the whole “Fazcrew versus us” thing began; Springtrap. Spring’s scars were not a tool. The only saving grace that the Fazcrew had was that they never said anything about the scars.

In fact, they never spoke directly to them anyway.

“Yeah,” Blu started suddenly, “But it would match so much better with your dead black heart.”

“If she even has one,” Mangle scoffed before they could stop themself, smirking in satisfaction as Creol’s face turned an interesting shade of red.

“True,” Blu agreed, his eyes never moving from their opponent. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

Creol’s eyes flashed dangerously and she stood up straight, her pretty pink lips twisting into a snarl. “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!”

Mangle just barely caught Sanchez’s eyes narrowing at Creol. Actually, Creol, the Mexican is on your side. Your opponent of wits, of which you obviously have none to battle with, is a Spaniard. Methinks ye lost an ally, ye wench!

“For the record,” Blu deadpanned, “I’m Spanish, not Mexican! Learn geography!”

And logic.

“Whatever,” Creol sniffed, shifting her weight and propping out a leg as she turned her nose up, looking at her incredibly fake lavender nails. She was the perfect picture of a haughty rich girl, and Mangle was torn between laughing at how miserable a person she was compared to the millionaire in the room and clawing her fucking eyes out. “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

Well Blu ain’t gonna stand for that.

The blue rabbit started forwards, snarling at the human, but Spring quickly caught his shoulder. “Oh please,” Blu started, not fighting against Spring’s grip, “at least Spanish makes sense, English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Before anyone could retort, Blu’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth in mock horror, saying, “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

Mangle had to bite back a laugh as the cheerleader’s face turned an almost deathly shade of purple-ish red. Across the room, most everyone wore faces of shock or displeasure, but a few even looked amused.

Creol, at the very least, was not amused as she reared up, glaring daggers at Blu, and started, “I will-”

Whatever she was about to say they never found out as, at that moment, Mr. Smith swooped in with an angered flush and cried, “That’s enough, you two! Act your age, all of you!”

Immediately both Blu and Creol backed down, eying the teacher warily.

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Spring immediately protested, pulling Blu back towards himself. “Won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Blu muttered, but he went ignored. Mangle glared towards Creol again.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith commanded, looking around at all of the students. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.”

As if, Mangle silently snorted, glancing towards the ceiling. They knew damn well there was no way Spring or Alfred would go home.

“No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right, got it.”

Mangle turned their gaze back towards Mr. Smith and the nervous fox as the human glanced around. “Ms. Sanchez,” he started, looking towards the chicken in question, “secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, easels are not for leaning! You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; don’t.”

No one said anything as the teacher stalked away, and they simply returned to what they had been doing before. Jones quickly began cleaning up his mess, but Mangle pointedly ignored him, choosing instead to turn back to their work.

“For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was born in Mexico.”

The mutter just barely made it to Mangle’s ears. The chicken’s tone was cold and clearly unhappy, and Mangle just barely resisted a smirk.

Go ahead and isolate yourself, they thought, sketching out the scene in front of them. Then we don’t have to deal with you anymore.

Maybe, they considered, there was someone out there, besides their and their friends' parents, who was worse than the Fazcrew.

Maybe.

Mangle sighed softly and stretched, glancing at the driveway. “Thanks for the ride, Spring,” Mangle started, turning to look at their friend. Spring was watching them worriedly. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s not problem,” Spring assured them. “Be safe, please.”

“I will,” Mangle lied, giving Spring a smile. The golden rabbit didn’t return their smile; he knew it was a lie just as much as Mangle did. Mangle had no control over anything, after all. “Don’t worry, it won’t be any worse than usual.”

Spring let out a breath and unlocked the doors. The fox’s words offered no comfort.

“Seeya tomorrow, Mangle.”

“Seeya, Springy.” Mangle slid out of the car and hitched their bag up on their shoulder, looking down the dirt driveway. “Take care yourself,” they added before closing the door and heading down the path.

When they reached the bend around the copse of trees and walked out of sight, they heard Spring’s car finally pull away, and Mangle’s heart broke knowing just how worried Spring was for their safety.

It broke, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help them, no matter how he felt like he should.

The fox sighed and paused, looking at the house that had been “home” for their entire life.

Two floors with a deck off of a sitting room, the white paint of the cabin had begun chipping away many years before, and a tree stood proudly next to the sad house. Mangle’s family wasn’t well off, but they weren’t struggling like Blu and Alfred’s families were.

No, their parents turned quite a profit, actually.

Taking a steadying breath, Mangle approached the house. The sun had long since lowered behind the trees but the shadows it cast across the darkened yard, onto the house that would never be a home... it sent chills up and down Mangle’s spine.

Already they were preparing a fantasy for themself as they, as quickly and carefully as possible, climbed the stairs to the deck and snuck across to the door there. A look in through the glass showed them that neither their mother nor father were in the sitting room, so they slowly slid the door open, wincing at every little creak and groan it made.

When the door was cracked open wide enough, they slipped inside and closed it again. There were no sounds in the house, which Mangle silently thanked god for, and the fox made their way down the hallway and towards their bedroom door.

Their bedroom door opened easily enough and they started inside, but then they froze.

Sitting there on their bed was their mother and father.

Their breath hitched in their throat as two pairs of piercing gold eyes stared straight into them. The arctic fox stood up and Mangle noticed the thin tendrils hanging down from his hand.

The whip, they immediately realized, eyes widening and stumbling back into the hallway.

“Where were you last night?” the light-purple and grey vixen demanded, standing as well to tower over her child. “You know the rules- we let you go where you want in the day and you come home at night to do your damn job!”

“Ungrateful little faggot,” their father snarled, approaching Mangle. “We feed you, raise you, give you a home and you repay us like this?!”

Like what?! I’m home! Mangle thought desperately, feeling their back hit the wall. I didn’t do anything!

“You had an appointment last night!” the arctic fox suddenly yelled, reaching forward and grabbing Mangle by the ear. Mangle yelped as their father dragged them forward and threw them to the ground- by their ear. “Two! But you didn’t show up and wouldn’t even answer your fucking phone!”

“After everything we’ve done for you,” their mother tsked, and Mangle risked pushing themself up onto their knees to look up at her.

She stared coldly down at them, her arms crossed and her heeled foot dangerously close to Mangle’s left hand. “I swear, you’ll put us in an early grave with this attitude of yours, and where will that leave you, Vivien?” she demanded, staring at them. Mangle refused to speak, instead turning their eyes elsewhere. “Answer the goddamned question, Vivien!”

They felt a foot collide with their back and then they were on the floor again, the wind knocked out of them.

“When your mother speaks to you, show her your respect, you ungrateful little brat,” their father hissed, putting his weight on the foot on Mangle’s back. Mangle grimaced, feeling their back pop- and not in a good way.

Their father’s steel-toed boots were really painful.

“Tell me, Vivien, where would you be without us?” their mother repeated, and Mangle felt the tip of her shoe slide under their chin. She forced the teen to look up at them. Mangle clenched their teeth, glaring up at the vixen but not daring to bare their teeth at her. “Answer me, whore.”

Whore.

Mangle flinched. What else could they do? Their parents wouldn’t relent until they gave in and answered her demands...

“On the streets, starving, freezing and dying,” Mangle bit out, ears flattening as they stared up at the woman who should have rightfully meant so much to them.

All she meant was pain.

“Good boy,” the vixen chuckled, kicking her foot upwards and causing Mangle’s sharp teeth to clack painfully together. Mangle started to growl, but their mother’s foot landing very purposefully on their hand caused the fox to yelp instead. “Oops,” their mother started dryly, unapologetically, as she moved her foot away from Mangle’s hand. “Now your papa’s gonna give you your punishment. And remember, my sweet- you brought this on yourself.”

With that, the vixen sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking against the wood almost daintily. She slammed the door shut and the fox removed his foot from mangle’s back.

It wasn’t much of a relief to Mangle; they felt their father grab their arm and haul them to their feet. Mangle bit their lip, knowing it would only be worse if they protested, and allowed the larger fox to shove them against the wall. They pressed their face to the wall, closing their eyes tightly; they wanted to be anywhere but there.

The older fox yanked their shirt up and their pants down, and Mangle realized at that moment just how damn it’s cold in here...

They breathed in sharply when the whip was brought down on them- hard and fast and stinging painfully, first on their back and then on their butt. Biting their tongue to keep from crying out- honestly, they were so used to the whip they didn’t know why they couldn’t just take it still- the young fox forced their mind to drift away. Mangle didn’t know how long they would be “punished” for, but they knew they didn’t want to be there for it.

So, even as the whip left thin, bleeding tendrils on their skin, Mangle concentrated on the upcoming weekend again. They grasped at their plans almost desperately, doing their best to push their reality away- to pretend that things weren’t falling apart, to pretend like they would be able to comfortably sit down tomorrow, to pretend like agony wasn’t being sent through their body...

They just wanted to pretend to be normal.