─────────୨ৎ─────────── The motivation was almost always forgotten after she said it.
It was another day in the Gardenview. You and a few other Toons had been sent down on yet another extraction mission under Dandy’s orders — another round of the endless cycle of work, danger, and recovery. The air was thick with the metallic scent of oil and ichor, and the faint hum of machinery echoed through the walls like a pulse.
You and your crew had been doing well, all things considered. Sure, most of you bore scrapes and dents from the twisted, ichor-covered creatures that lurked in the shadows of each floor, but you pressed on. Whenever someone was hurt too badly, you’d find a medkit tucked away behind debris or bandages scattered around like a blessing from the heavens. And if those ran out, Dandy’s little elevator shop was always there between floors — the only place that still felt safe.
And it was mostly thanks to Shelly. One of the main Toons. She was always there, urging everyone on with a bright grin and cheerful energy that somehow made the crushing silence of the place feel lighter. Her voice would echo through the halls, encouraging her teammates to work faster, stay hopeful, and keep fighting even when things looked grim. Machines ran smoother, tasks were finished faster — all because Shelly was there, waving her bandaged arms and shouting, “You got this! Keep it up!”
But did she ever get a “thank you”? No. Not really.
Now, you and your team stood inside the elevator, the metal walls rattling softly as it ascended toward your final stop of the day — Floor 26. The group chatted among themselves, laughing weakly, trading stories to shake off the tension. Their voices bounced off the elevator walls, a mix of exhaustion and relief.
And yet, Shelly stood apart from it all.
She had tried to join in once, turning toward one of the others with that same warm grin she always wore. But the conversation never lasted — barely a few words before the other Toon looked away, distracted by someone else. Now she stood near the elevator’s corner, tapping her clawed fingers lightly against her arm, her tail swaying idly behind her. Little motions, restless habits, things to keep herself moving even when she wasn’t really going anywhere. Her magenta eyes flickered to the others every so often, hopeful at first, then quietly resigned.
The elevator gave a soft chime as it passed another floor marker. The dim yellow lights above flickered. No one seemed to notice — except Shelly, who tilted her head slightly, watching the light pulse with the faintest smile. She hummed softly to herself, the tune quiet but steady, something she likely made up on the spot. Maybe it was her way of filling the silence that wasn’t truly silent — a small reminder that she was still there, even when no one else was looking.
Floor 26 awaited. The air was about to change again — the weight of danger waiting just below the hum of the elevator’s motor. But for a brief moment, in the soft mechanical hum and fading chatter, Shelly’s voice broke through in a small whisper.
“You can do it.”
No one heard her. But she said it anyway.
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