Hello, readers!

Welp, this is it. The last chapter. It only took 8 billion years. I just other things I wanted to write and I wasn't sure how long I wanted this fic to be. When I started editing it, I was like, fuck it. I'll just end it within the next chapter. So, this is my attempt to wrap this thing up in a neat little bow. It's not very clean, sorry.

Also, I'd like to apologize to my Noctivagant Series readers (that's Nichole's series). She might be a TAAADD out of character. But that's ok, because this whole thing is non-canon. I can't stress this enough. As far as the main series is concerned, this DIDN'T HAPPEN. :) Just a fun side story because I loved these games.

Thanks for sticking with me. See you in the next story.

~ Crayola


Chapter Eight

Subdue

Relief mixed with panic and I yanked open the drawers to the desk and fumbled for the tape recorder and the cassettes. When I had them all in hand, I grabbed an empty foam cup from the floor and shoved the tapes inside, recorder still grasped in my hand.

Before one of the animatronics could change its mind, I bolted through the dark halls, stumbling on trash and strewn wires, toward the front door.

"Hart," I hissed into the mic. There was no response. He was gone, though I didn't know where. I bumped into several walls but didn't stop. Outside of the hallways, everything was brighter thanks to the street lights outside.

The key was in my hand and poised to strike before I reached the automatic doors. In my haste, I had forgotten they could be unlocked by hand from the inside and I fumbled with the lock, fighting clumsiness to twist it enough times until it clicked.

Pulling the doors open was hard, but I managed. Sliding them shut was easier, and I jammed the key in the lock as fast as I could, twisting it and jiggling it until the door latched.

Somehow, I managed not to break the key.

That sound echoed into the night and I collapsed there on the pavement, foam cup hitting the ground and scattering its contents. My heart threatened to beat fast enough to tear a hole through space-time and I struggled to catch my breath.

Slowly, never once taking my eyes off the door, I stood to my feet and wiped my mouth.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and instinctively grabbed it, throwing the person over my shoulder and laying them out. Hart landed in a heap on his back, grunting.

It took an extra second for me to realize it was him. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me you were approaching?" I panted, offering my hand. He gathered his wits and let me help him to his feet.

"I did," he groaned, pushing on his lower back. "I called out to you three times."

"Sorry," I muttered, unable to come up with anything better. My whole body was still trembling and my heart had yet to simmer down.

He sighed and rubbed his head, then helped me picked up all of the cassettes scattered across the sidewalk. His hands were shaking, too.

"What happened?" he asked. "How did you get away? Did you outrun them or something?"

My hand fluttered to my forehead and I winced when I stepped wrong with my leg. "No. Time just. . .ran out I guess."

"Fuck, Nichole. You are not going back in there tomorrow or ever."

I shook my head and rubbed my shoulders. "If we can't figure out what's going on in this place, then I'll have to go back tomorrow."

"No," he insisted, putting a hand on my shoulder. The other was still holding the cup full of tapes. "I don't care. You barely got out tonight and it's only your second shift! You heard the mysterious phone guy, they only get more active as the week progresses."

Aware of his proximity, I pulled away and hunched my shoulders. "I just have to watch my power usage. I got the hang of it there at the end, it'll be okay."

His arms fell to his side and he huffed. "If I can help it, you're not going back there. Let's get back to the hotel and we'll try to cool down before listening to these tapes. You hungry? Thirsty? Want some ice cream or something?"

"Do I look like a small child?" I shot back.

"Ice cream fixes everything. That and Band-Aids," he insisted.

At first, I thought he was trying to mock me, but when I saw how his shoulders shook and the way his eyes bugged that he was just as shaken by the events as I was. He was trying to distract us from how close I had been to being killed.

Misdirected anger faded from me and I relaxed my shoulders. Hart was trying to help, in his own way. There would be time to get mad later, but I shouldn't aim my frustrations at him.

"I could go for some food. But no ice cream, it's six in the morning."

He nodded and relaxed, then led the way toward the hotel. "Sure thing. McDonald's breakfast?"

"Why not." I looked back at the pizzeria one last time as we left. It was dark and quiet. The knowledge that children were going to be inside there sometime during the day sent a tremor up my spine. They were so close to such malicious machinery and didn't even know it.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

*:・゚✧

I was exhausted. Mentally and physically. After Hart and I bought ourselves some breakfast, I promptly passed right the fuck out. All that adrenaline had drained every ounce of energy I had—I didn't even leave Hart's room after breakfast.

He was on the farthest edge of the bed possible when I woke up. There wasn't a couch in either room, so I couldn't even be mad.

Irritated, but not mad.

It's not like I'd woken up with him cuddling me, so I ignored him and his snoring and crawled out of bed to take a shower—in my own room—while he finished his beauty rest.

Feeling refreshed and reinvigorated, I knocked on Hart's door. There was no answer, but the door between our rooms was still unlocked, so I let myself in.

He was still sound asleep.

"Devon."

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Sighing, I marched over and shook him. When he didn't stir, I grabbed his hand and pulled him the rest of the way off the bed; he'd practically been hanging off the bed to avoid touching me in our sleep, so it was easy.

Hart shouted in pain and surprise as he hit the floor. His eyes were wild as he scrambled up to his feet and I had to take a step back to avoid being slammed into.

So that's what I look like.

"Time to get up," I said, standing a safe distance from him.

He stared at me like I'd grown a second head, then let out a breath and relaxed. "Geez, what a fucking wake up call."

"I tried the polite way. It didn't work. This did. Now, get ready so we can start working and get a report filed. If we're lucky, we can be headed home by tonight," I said, wandering over to the table where the surveillance gear was situated.

Yawning, Hart said, "Alright. Gimme a few to brush my teeth and shower and stuff."

"Fine."

Hart took his stuff into the bathroom with him and I set about organizing all our things and jotting down a few notes that stood out to me about what we knew so far.

Child murders—the culprit had been arrested even if the bodies were never found.

"Questionable business practices—paying employees under the table, short cuts to save money, and faulty equipment among other things.

"The animatronics are hostile—inconclusive as to whether it's coding or supernatural.

"Those tapes indicate that the company is fully aware of the issues and are doing nothing to rectify the situation."

There was a number of other things, but as I finished gathering those thoughts, Hart emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, his hair still wet, and drew my attention.

"Alright, what's first on the agenda?" he asked, sitting across from me.

I glanced over at him. "Are you hungry?"

He shrugged. "I'll order something later. Why, are you?"

"No, just wondering. I was thinking we should listen to these tapes, first, and then we could—" I didn't even get to finish talking.

"Did you eat already?"

"What? No, I'm not hungry yet. Focus, Devon. The tapes."

"Right, right."

Rolling my eyes, I popped in the tapes in turn and we spent some time listening to the mysterious employee drone on.

The third tape was even shorter than the second one and offered almost no help, unlike the other two. He implied that there may have been other night guards who all left—or were killed, though he denied meaning that.

Other than that, he came up with a terrible plan to play dead. Go limp if the animatronics came inside the office to trick them into leaving.

But, he recognized the own stupidity of his suggestion and told us to just not get caught.

Brilliant.

"Well," Devon said as I fired up the fourth night's tape, "isn't he just a regular ball of sunshine. That tape had nothing useful on it except that there might have been others."

I sighed. "Yeah, but since they were paid off the record, we wouldn't be able to find them at all."

"The local police department said they'd call me with a list of missing people within the time that the restaurant has been open. Hopefully they get back to me soon," he assured me.

"Alright, well, I'm playing the next one."

"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it."

The tone was immediately different. There was noise in the background—knocking? Shuffling?—and the recorder's voice wasn't as upbeat as usual.

"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow. It's—It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you," he paused to clear his throat, and the banging in the background was more pronounced, "uh, when I did.

My partner and I exchanged grave glances. There was a longer pause and all we had to listen to was scraping and knocking.

"Uh, hey, do me a favor. Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad. Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there."

Freddy's chime started playing over the banging sounds in the background, setting my teeth on edge. I suppressed the urge to jump out of my skin and focused on what the man was saying.

"You know. . . ." he trailed off and an otherworldly moaning almost drowned out the rest of his words. "Oh no. . . ."

There was a fumbling sound, as if he'd dropped the recording device, followed by a mechanical screech. Static filled the room, and then the recording stopped altogether.

We sat in silence for a moment while all that had happened sunk in.

It was Hart who broke the silence first.

"So. . .he died, yeah?"

I shot him a glare and said, "Tasteful, Devon. But yes, that's what appears to have happened."

He pointed to the last tape. "So then, what's on this tape?"

Frowning, I put it in and let it rewind like I had all the others. "I don't know. Maybe it's empty. Guess we'll find out."

"Yeah."

When I played it, it made my skin crawl. There was no voice, no playful "hello, hello!" Just garbled gibberish in a deep, menacing tone. It was laced with intermittent feedback that shrieked.

Then it cut off, and that was it.

"Ominous," Hart muttered, leaning back in his chair.

Shaking my head, I piled all the tapes together and crossed my arms over my chest. "I think this is plenty to at least get a warrant. Let's call back to headquarters."

"Right. We'll make a report, and then I'll call. You're not going back in there tonight if I can help it," Hart muttered, grabbing the laptop.

"I can handle it!"

"But you shouldn't have to. So, let's get this done," he said, sounding very matter-of-fact.

Deciding not to argue, I went through more of the file to dig up anything else we could find. Another nail in this stupid company's coffin.

*:・゚✧

They watched our footage. They read our report and heard the stories. In the end, they sent over more agents from the correct department to raid the place. Freddy's attack on me when the power went out had been more than enough to spur my bosses into action.

Everyone arrived an hour before the place closed. Devon and I led the team inside and all civilians were evacuated while others rounded up the employees.

The current owner couldn't be contacted, so an APB was put out to find him.

A team garbed in SWAT-grade gear surrounded the animatronics on stage as well as Foxy's personal corner. They had guns drawn, though I wasn't sure what good it would do.

"They supposedly don't move until midnight, boss," Hart mentioned.

"Not taking our chances. Nichole was almost grabbed by one of them, and they may be behind more disappearances," came the tart reply.

I couldn't say I didn't blame them.

"We've got a team coming in who's going to check the programming to see if all of this is due to faulty wiring or something more paranormal," he continued. We were standing off to the side, watching the managers and employees be rounded up for questioning down at the local station.

I asked, "You guy check the back suits?"

The man in charge nodded. "We've got CSI running over every inch looking for blood or anything else we might find. No bodies discovered yet, but they just started."

Hart and I muttered acknowledge and then excused ourselves outside. A small gathering had formed outside of our crime scene tape as locals clamored to see what was going on. We ignored them and any press present to jump inside one of our vehicles.

"Guess we'll find out whether this is gross negligence or vengeful spirits soon, eh?" mused Hart as we settled in.

Sighing, I replied, "Guess so. I'm ready to go home and sleep for a week, though."

"Me, too."

For now, though, we'd just have to settle for a nap as we were driven to the nearest airport. They didn't need us anymore, and we'd handed over everything we'd gathered already.

I couldn't wait to go back to chasing aliens. At least those were easy to weed out.


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