Disclaimer: I do not own uglydolls. I also do not own the pictures, or the songs.

(This is a uglydolls 2019 fanfic)

(Its, lou-centric)

(Warning there is arguing that might be a bit sensitive to viewers)

(I haven't uglydolls a lot, so forgive if some of the characters are ooc..)

(This takes during the events of the movie..)

(ZaneChan505 and qwertuno and -RENN1E And SilentReadersMatter and joycethebooklover
And WitchycandlexX and Mycurrentfandom And poniesman)

(I apologise for any spelling mistakes, autocorrect is a d*ck.)

(Hope you enjoy this little fic~😗)

The gun cocked softly in Louis' hand.

Click.

The cock of the object settled nicely, fitting just right in the palm of his hand. He chose it as his weapons for that very specific reason.

It felt right.

The voice whispers. It's been there since the beginning, Louis can't seem to be rid of it. It lived inside his head, he couldn't make it disappear.

'You could call it the voice of insanity.'

One times two equals two. He thinks the equation goes. But if you wanted a technicality, you could say three lived inside his head.

My, myself, and I.

Yes, he made that joke.

Let's just go for a fucking kill

Yes, Lou needed to let off some steam. Killing always calmed down the thoughts of suicide and worthlessness of his damn life.

Sad, yes. Was he sympathetic?

...Louis liked to think so.

***

Ivy always tried to distance herself.

Everyone either died or left. Everyone always walked away. Dolls always fed on each other's naivety.

Ivy sat a metre away from Louis. He held his his down, looking suspicious enough to garner a look from the others. She knew that face.

His thinking.

Ivy observed the ways of others. Subtle gestures, hitches in breathes, the tones of the voices. Whatever made them lie, tell the turn, or even killed or was at least against killing.

Ivy felt nothing. She turned away from the others, tuning out their speeches to allow her own thoughts to flow in time.

Can I trust them?

They've been friendly, haven't they?

Are they pretending?

In this world, you needed deception. Getting whatever you wanted at any price guaranteed to come with.

Tears blurred at the edge of Ivy's vision. She quickly wiped the liquid off to see more clearly. It worked about a minute before returning.

...Damn, she needed to stop getting emotional.

The killer in Ivy kept giving urges to kill, kill, and rob. Steal the food and run as fast to the nearest location to eat. A hand unconscious placed itself on weapons used so often.

"Ivy?"

She quickly lowered the limb. Pipp stood there, she wondered if the mouse proved to be innocent in presentation. On the outside anyway.

Can I trust her?

Where did these thoughts keep coming? The source lost itself to Ivy, causing a growl of frustration to rise. Pipp stood back a bit.

Ivy flinched without meaning to.

She's afraid, dumbass.

A darker part whispered. One telling to Ivy to kill herself on a daily basis. Sometimes wondered why she didn't find the nearest building to end it all.

"Yes, Pipp?" Ivy replied, voice even. "Anything you need? Louis seems to be your primary provider."

"I-"

"Hey, Poison!"

Pipp rolled her eyes and turned to see Michael (that's his name? Right?) standing there. But he stood there in a weird position. Both doll and mouse had the same thought at the same time

Drunk.

Drunk dolls led to bad things. Ivy placed a step in front of Pipp. She didn't have to be a witness. And the time? Ivy glanced at the clock.

Three in the afternoon.

"What?"

Michael smiled lopsidedly. Ivy's face held a disturbed expression. Not even she became dumb enough to drink in the afternoon.

Wonder what his sob story is.

If anyone drank here now, they had to have a sob story. Share sympathy. Become sympathetic for.

A smart strategy once thought about.

"Your..." Michael's breath stank. Alcoholism became stronger as he approached. "And your going to die-"

He screamed.

Ivy's katana pierced his leg, sliding though enough to damage the muscle. Eyes turning black, she hissed a warning at the man.

"I may be here now." Ivy's voice became much, much deeper. Pipp unconsciously flinched, memories burning once the woman spoke again. "But I assure you, I can kill in a matter of seconds. Now, GO THE FUCK AWAY!"

Michael fled like the coward Ivy knew him to be. He reminded of a doll she once knew. Looking back, Ivy has been in an exact situation such as this before.

It didn't end happily ever after.

"What's your question, Pipp?"

The mouse sighed softly. She almost forgot until now. At least Ivy had the decency to make up for lost time. She'd give the doll that much.

The eyes became red once again. The soothing red.

"What's the beginning of your story?"

Ivy hummed in thought. She smiled.

"I became a killer. Once though to be naive, my first kill taught me all I need to know of this world."

"What's that?"

Ivy placed a gentle hand on Pipp's shoulder. She squeezed almost reassuringly. The next words cost Pipp's train of thought to be focused on them.

"The weak are killed."

***

Louis often visited his victims graves.

Maybe the guilt tormented him so much he forced himself to at least pay respects. That much he could owe to the now deceased or infected dolls.

An infected stopped his way.

"C'mon." He drew his gun, the object sitting numbly in his hand. It became part of life to hold it. "I am not in the mood to deal with you."

The infected hissed in return. Of course it either didn't understand or plainly ignored the man. If it were the second option, he thought it to be rude.

Ass.

'Just do it.'

In slow motion, an infected ran over. Louis jumped time the side. Ah, it seemed to be runner. Harder to deal with than an regular.

At least it posed an actual challenge.

Louis growled on his own terms. Allowing his instincts to take over, he jumped to the tree and grabbed its branch.

He swung and legs connected to kick the infected's face. That got it pissed. It pushed Louis down in the door, delivering a solid side punch to the gut.

Louis groaned softly, standing to clutch the injured part tenderly. Observing his surrounds, he thought of only one thing.

"Fuck it."

He drew the pistol. Firing the gun, it distracted the infected Louis enough to make a run. By the time the infected turned around it was too late.

Louis pierced its own gut with his knife. Slowly thrusting the device in to torture the poor soul. He briefly wondered who this one maybe.

Ask it.

"What's your name?

"Meghan..."

The name sounded familiar. The infected croaked out weakly. Louis recognised it now.

A doll stepped out. Once plain, now made a purpose.

"And welcome Meghan, occupation, a lawyer!"

He shivered ah the reminder of the bot's voice. The blonde locks dangling in the uniform of this perfection stood out in detail.

"Heh." Louis chuckled, closing Meghan's eyes gently second from her death. "Maybe you can represent me when I'm in hell."

She didn't laugh or make a quip. Instead, Meghan took a last breath. Louis swore the atmosphere changed ever so slightly.

He dragged the body to a convenient empty grave. He placed Meghan down in the pit. She deserved a somewhat funeral.

"Rest in peace, I guess."

Louis put his hands inside his packets. Staring in the distance, he now heard the mocking applause. He caught the knife between his fingers.

A doll stood back to back with him.

"What do you want?"

"A deal."

(A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter~😁)

(Vote, and comment if you like this~😚)

(Hoped you enjoyed this little fic~😘)