The door was finally unlocked, revealing a red, puffy-eyed, crying Peter. As soon as the door swung open, Peter leaped out and and threw his arms around me as if he was running away from his worst nightmare. I glanced at the naked Fredbear endoskeleton behind him.

"Peter, are you okay?!" I asked. Peter nodded his head into my tear-soaked shoulder.

"Who put you in there?" I asked the question, even though I already had a pretty good guess who it was.

"M-Michael," Peter stuttered. The tears running down his cheeks were increasing by the second. Dad took Peter's hand and hugged him tightly as well. Looking back into the main area of the restaurant, I noticed that a crowd of people had gathered around the doorway. Above all of the curious heads, two golden habit ears dashed behind everyone. There was only one Spring Bonnie suit in suit mode and one in animatronic mode on the main stage right now. I pushed my way through the crowd and managed to catch up to him. I honestly could not have tackled him in a worse location at a worse time.

"Michael! What the fu-"

Within the few seconds I spoke, Michael managed to grab a stray microphone and threw it at me. I held up my arms in defense, and Michael took the opportunity to disappear into the crowd that was still around the door. I could see my dad trying to disperse the crowd and Peter managed to escape it and ran towards me, not wanting to let go. I knelt down to his level to hug him back. I took the microphone from off the floor and held it up to my lips. "Can I have your attention, everyone?" There was a faint amount of feedback leaking through the speakers. "Please step away from the back of the restaurant, that area is off limits to any and all customers. Thank you."

Michael came back as the large group of people slowly left the crowd and back to whatever business they had before. Michael snatched the microphone out of my hand and spoke through the Spring Bonnie head. The song that the robots were singing had just ended. They were still moving, but no sound was made.

"Excuse me, everyone, I have an announcement to make." The entire restaurant fell silent. I glared at Michael with annoyance and precaution while Peter refused to look him in the eye. "Today, is a very special day for this little guy up here with me," he gestured towards Peter. "Today is his eighth birthday!" A small applause was coming from the audience.

"What the hell are you doing? We never do this when we host a birthday party!" I whispered to my older brother, but he disregarded my comment.

"And I think he'd like to give Fredbear a big kiss!" There was faint gasping from the audience, and I finally stood to meet Michael's face.

"Michael, stop this! You're being r-"

Michael punched me in the cheek and I fell on top of my arm, in addition to my forehead banging against the cold tile floor net to the main stage. The impact of my head to the floor somehow caused an injury to my neck, and I could barely feel anything in my limbs beyond tingling and twitching. In he insight, I thought my nose was broken, too.

"Come here!" was all I could hear Michael say followed by Peter's cries for help and strains of trying to free himself, but to no avail.

No! I thought to myself. I am not powerless! Get up, Charlie! GET UP!

Somehow I managed to roll onto my back to at least see what was happening, but I instantly wished that I would have remained motionless. It may not have stopped what happened next, but it would spare me the burden of the memory.

"No! NO! Please! Don't do this! I don't wanna!" Peter screamed at the top of his little lungs as Michael hoisted him up to the opening of Fredbear's agape jaw. Michael was seized by security, but not before he crammed our little brother's head inside the small opening.

Peter's tears were flowing incredibly fast. He attempted to pry himself out of the mascot head, but his skinny arms were no match for the heavy duty wiring and springlocks that held him in place.

Springlocks!

"Someone shut them down! Now!" my dad and I said almost simultaneously. Dad ran as fast as he could to the robotic controls on the other side of the room, but he was too late.

Following a loud scream, there was a deafening crushing sound that came from the stage. Peter's body dropped to the floor. Limp. Bloody. Lifeless.

Someone had finally helped me sit up and let the blood flow out of my nose, but I wish that they didn't. Peter's face was covered in blood, and the top half of his black and gray t-shirt was, too. I looked at the robot that just took his life. It too had bloodstains on it. Its lower mouth, upper chest and the entire length of the arms sported crimson stains. Even the microphone held some tiny splatter marks. The previously open jaw was now closed.

I didn't want to look at the corpse that was my younger brother, but I also couldn't pry my eyes off of it. Blood was still spurting out of the cavity that used to house his frontal lobe. the pool under his head was growing larger and larger by the second. At least ten employees had to hold back the crowd while dad and five others were either restraining Michael, helping me, or trying to figure out what to do with the body. I couldn't bear to look at my brother. His light brown hair was now die almost completely red with his own blood. I slowly regained feeling in my body and was able to stand up. I was feeling extremely light headed, but that feeling was slowly slipping away, too.

Somehow, Michael broke out of the grasp of the two men that held him still. When he did, he ran as far away from them as he could. He continued running all around the restaurant, and I found a place closely where I could cut him off. I stationed myself next to a random door in the eastern wall of the diner, ready for his impact, but to my surprise, he instead ran into the supply closet behind the door. I quickly followed suit, and the door was shut before anyone else could get inside.

I could feel the tears I was holding back finally leak through. "Why?! Why did you do that?! And why Peter?! He did nothing to you!" I could hear his quiet chuckle from under the costume.

"For Christ's sake, Michael, at least have the balls to do that to my face!" I screamed at him.

Michael removed one of the golden hand from over his own and proceeded to remove the head. He took one step in my direction. I grabbed a wooden broom handle propped up against the wall and held it as if I was ready to swing it.

"Don't you DARE get any closer to me!" I threatened, tightening my grip on the handle. Michael slowly reached up and pulled at a strand of yarn dangling from a single lightbulb attached to the low ceiling.

"Do you see it now?" said a voice I didn't recognize, but still came from Michael. The voice was low, distorted and mechanical. It was... inhuman.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I screamed again. Michael lunged at me with almost full force. The broom handle was barely enough of a defense, even when I held one end in each hand. It began to splinter in the center, slowly splitting under Michael's newfound strength and weight. I looked Michael dead in the eyes. Something was off. They weren't brown like every blood-related Afton that I knew of. They were a lilac purple. They were glassy and lifeless, almost identical to the endoskeleton I was repairing earlier.

"What the hell happened to you, down there?" I asked my brother in an almost whisper.

I was straining against Michael's weight, or rather, this THING'S weight. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't my brother.

"You don't know what we've been through."

I used my foot to kick him away just enough for me to move to another spot in the room. I narrowly dodged his next attack, but I swung the broom handle at his face. His head moved to the side from the impact, but Michael didn't flinch, nor did it leave a mark. On my next swing, I aimed for his upper arm. Michael let out an agonizing scream as the springlocks closed in on his flesh. It started with his upper arm, then the rest of them slowly collapsed in a chain reaction, leaving everything crushed except for the head. Michael crashed to the floor in a sitting position, barely breathing. His speech was quickly replaced with gurgling as blood spat out of his mouth.

"... Char... lie..." he pleaded. "Help... me..." I slowly walked over to the spring bonnie head that laid on the floor just a few inches away from Michael's dying body. I placed the spring bonnie head over his and fastened it down. Michael's eyes widened in horror as I fastened it to his suit.

This is for Peter.

I knocked the broom handle on the side of the mascot head, and the springlocks faltered. Michael twitched and wheezed for quite some time before becoming just as lifeless as Peter was in the next room. The red pool continued to grow under him, and the gore of the sight in front of me increased as more blood dripped down from underneath the costume. My knees gave out from under me and I cradled my head in my hands.

What have I done?