Chapter nine: Scrap

A figure observed the storehouse from a distance.

He'd driven all the way to this remote place for some oversized building that supposedly held what he sought. He sighed in annoyance; finding that which he needed wasn't going to be easy. The place looked like it could contain a giant or two, and he'd probably need to bash in a window in order to enter it.

But he wasn't about to stop here. He had to hurry. Finding it wouldn't be the end of his mission here.

It'd just prove very beneficial.


A little after 6 a.m.

There was no plan.

That idea was ceaselessly haunting Douglas as he drove Griffiths to the warehouse. There was no plan to save the prototronics. There was no way to prevent Griffiths from taking and disassembling them.

Before Griffiths had arrived at Freddy's, Douglas had given Bill Afton a call to ask for help. The engineer hadn't even picked up the phone. How encouraging.

Like before, Douglas parked the car in one of the parking lots at the edge of the terrain. One other car was parked there, but he didn't think much of it. Probably someone from some other company looking around their old storages.

As he and Griffiths proceeded to walk to the warehouse, the guard grabbed the key from his pocket.

Griffiths looked at the building before him. "Huh," he said. "They said the building was large, but to actually see it for myself makes me wonder how many things the company has stored in here."

"It's really not that much, sir," Douglas said as he reluctantly unlocked the door. "Mostly old decorations and chunks of metal on the first and second floor."

Douglas opened the door and, with shaking hands, grabbed his flashlight from his pocket. He shone it forward, suddenly feeling tense. He was literally about to give Griffiths the necessary knowledge to kill the prototronics.

The tension he felt only got worse as they went up the stairs. Griffiths asked Douglas if he was alright, and the guard only replied with a quiet "Fine", after which he continued ascending. It was a lie, of course, but Griffiths didn't push it.

Once upstairs, Douglas looked around in search for the small room where he'd found the prototronics. He didn't need too much time to find it.

He strode over, opened the door, and shone his flashlight to the opposite wall where he'd found Bonnie's predecessor.

There was nothing there.

"Douglas?" Griffiths asked as he went to stand next to the guard.

"It's gone," Douglas whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"T-the animatronics…!" Douglas looked at the rest of the room. The old Freddy and Chica were gone as well. "They were here last time."

"You're saying that someone moved them?"

Footsteps were heard behind them.

They turned around. The sound came from behind a large steel pallet rack, which held boxes that largely obscured the silhouette on the other side.

Douglas and Griffiths shared a glance. The former quickly turned his flashlight off. Who else could be in the warehouse? Wasn't this area restricted to Freddy's employees?

The footsteps stopped.

Silence.

"Who's there~?" a female voice suddenly sang. It sounded way too sweet. "Who came to disturb my grave~?"

Douglas' breath was stuck in his lungs.

"I'm just kidding," the voice said, chuckling. "I know exactly who it is."

Douglas felt a light tapping on his shoulder. He looked to Griffiths, who was inching towards the door that led to the stairs. Douglas swallowed. For now, the pallet rack was protecting them from the silhouette, but if they were to run for the door, the unidentified person would definitely hear them.

Despite his limited view of the woman, Douglas had an idea who it might be. That voice sounded a lot like Chica's. It had to be her predecessor.

"Kyle," the woman said. "Don't you remember me? You know, from the old place? Me, one of the three bots who kept glitching and all that? Man…when I last saw you, you were a janitor, right? Now look at you—manager of Freddy's Restaurant. And now you're thinking about turning me into scrap. How hurtful."

Griffiths glanced at Douglas, who shrugged. They continued silently walking towards the stairwell door.

"And your friend's here too, I've heard," Proto-Chica said. "What was his name again? Douglas?"

Douglas' eyes widened. In the dim light ahead of him—provided by the few windows nearby—he saw Griffiths briefly glance in his direction, but the manager didn't stop walking.

"Douglas Goodwin," the prototronic continued. "Night guard at Freddy's. I'd really, really like to meet him. I've been told he's a good guy."

With every sentence this prototronic said, Douglas' blood ran colder. How'd she know who he was? Who'd told her he was a good guy? Who'd told her he was the night guard at Freddy's?

Something told him he should know, yet the answer evaded him.

He heard Proto-Chica's soft footsteps head deeper into the room—in the opposite direction. That was good.

"Now," the woman said, "Where are you?" She giggled. "You should know that there's no way out—unless you can get past Bonnie and Freddy, that is. They may or may not be downstairs. Or upstairs. Just thought I'd mention."

Her footsteps and her voice faded away as she walked to the other side of the room, away from Douglas and Griffiths. Griffiths looked over his shoulder one more time before picking up his pace ever so slightly. Douglas did the same.

As they got closer, Douglas continuously glanced back and forth, from the prototronic—that was, the direction in which she'd gone—to his feet. He had to make sure he wouldn't trip; Chica would definitely hear that.

They eventually reached the door without a problem. Douglas winced at the soft creaking sound it made when Griffiths opened it, but Chica didn't seem to hear it. Thankfully.

"What now, sir?" Douglas asked once they were back in the stairwell, his voice hushed. "If Bonnie and Freddy really are somewhere around here…"

"I'm willing to bet they're downstairs, guarding the front door," Griffiths whispered. He was visibly nervous, but somehow managed to keep it together quite well. "It would make the most sense."

"We don't know that," Douglas said. "We're taking a huge risk here, sir."

"Still, I think we should go upstairs—where they may not expect us to go. See if there is something there that could help us. A fire escape or something."

"Even if Bonnie and Freddy aren't upstairs, it's possible that Foxy and Mangle are. Again, a risk."

"We can barely turn our backs here without taking some sort of risk. We should not split up, but we've got to make a choice before anyone—or anything—else makes an appearance in this stairwell."

"That's true. Upstairs it is, then. Just keep an eye out for the others; they're really good at hiding."

"How do you know that?"

It was then that Douglas realized he'd made a mistake. He managed to stay calm, however. "I-I mean, it's just a suspicion. If whoever reactivated them wanted to scare us, giving the animatronics some way to hide would be a perfect idea, right?"

Griffiths eyed him. "If you say so," he finally said. Douglas knew the manager didn't fully believe him, but that didn't matter. All he cared about was escaping the warehouse.

They went to the next level of the building. In the stairwell, Douglas remained in front while Griffiths made sure that they weren't being followed. Sweat covered Douglas' head. This reminded him of his first night at Freddy's, when he had his crap scared out of him by Bonnie and Chica. At least he was able to stay level-minded this time.

The next floor held smaller metal components—screws and nails, with the occasional drills, screwdrivers and hammers among them. Douglas wasn't completely sure why so many nails were necessary for maintaining the restaurant, but he decided not to question it.

They should've spent more money on lights in here. I can barely see two feet ahead of me.

As he and Griffiths snuck past the pallet racks, the silence on this floor became more deafening. At first glance, there didn't seem to be anyone nearby—but that didn't mean much in a world of sentient animatronics, now did it?

Douglas also made sure to look up. For all he knew, the prototronics could be hiding up in the pallet racks. The thought of meeting one of them made him shiver.

"I don't think there's anyone here, sir," Douglas whispered as Griffiths examined the pallet racks they passed. "Just some equipment for—"

The sound of the stairwell door creaking open echoed through the room.

They instantly looked to where it came from, but boxes on several pallet racks blocked their view again. The door soon slammed shut, and soft footsteps rang out.

I spoke too soon.

Douglas quietly moved closer to the pallet rack that blocked his view. He peeked past the boxes as best he could.

He could vaguely make out a humanoid shape, its skin a familiar purple. Bonnie's predecessor.

Douglas turned back to Griffiths and gestured for the manager to move. Griffiths did so. His footsteps made more noise than Douglas liked, and the guard took some more glances towards the purple figure to see if it reacted to the sound.

He slowly drew his taser. He didn't know if it'd work against the prototronics, but he needed some way to defend himself against them in case he'd be cornered. The taser was his best chance.

Stepping as lightly as he could, he followed Griffiths towards the other side of the enormous room. He knew that the anime-tronics at Freddy's had sensitive ears and would be able to hear them easily. He prayed that the prototronics didn't have such an advantage.

Griffiths zigzagged through the room and past the pallet racks. On one hand, this seemed like a good idea; it'd only make them more difficult to find. The only problem was that it didn't exactly speed things up. Douglas noticed how Griffiths was gradually heading for the room's outer walls—where a fire escape was more likely to be situated—but it'd take a while before they actually reached it.

Douglas sighed inaudibly, glancing behind him for the who-knows-how-manyeth time. Part of him wished that the anime-tronics were here; they might've been able to—

The sound of a box hitting the ground nearby erupted, followed by a few quiet whispers.

Both Douglas and Griffiths immediately looked to where the noise had come from. It couldn't've been more than…what, three meters away? Douglas tried to look past the boxes on the pallet rack in front of him, but it was too dark to see anything.

Then, four pinpricks of light emerged from the other side of the pallet rack. Douglas had seen those before, back at Freddy's whenever one of the anime-tronics were in darker areas. He knew what they were.

The eyes of the prototronics, looking at him and Griffiths from the darkness.

"RUN!" Douglas cried.

Griffiths obeyed, running ahead. Douglas went after him. A few giggles were audible over their footsteps.

Griffiths wasn't exactly an athlete, but despite the situation he still knew what to do. He continued zigzagging during the run in an attempt to throw off the prototronics. What amazed Douglas was that it actually seemed to work, as the eerie giggles were replaced by confused voices that faded farther away with each step he took.

He had no idea where Griffiths was going, and the manager himself didn't seem to know, either. They just had to get away. Find a fire escape. Or perhaps return to the stairwell.

Douglas saw eyes appear in the distance ahead, accompanied by a shadow that looked just like Bonnie. Fortunately, he and Griffiths were just able to take a turn right and continue running.

Douglas heard Griffiths' breathing turn less steady. The manager was running out of energy. They needed to find an exit soon.

From the top of a nearby pallet rack, Proto-Freddy jumped down to the ground in front of them. She landed almost gracefully, barely making a sound.

Griffiths came to a halt. Douglas almost ran into him. The guard grabbed Griffiths by the shoulder and turned around.

Proto-Chica and -Bonnie were there, blocking his path.

He looked around frantically, but there was no way he or Griffiths could outrun the robots.

"We're surrounded," Griffiths quietly said to him, panting.

The old Freddy grinned. Then she took a step towards them.

Douglas raised his taser.

"Hey!" an oddly familiar voice intervened, drawing attention. "Stop that already!"

From behind Bonnie and Chica, another shadow emerged. This one was shorter than them and looked more masculine.

Douglas frowned, grabbed his flashlight and shone it at the new figure. His eyes widened. "Bill Afton?"

Narrowing his eyes at the white light, Afton nodded. "Yeah, it's me. Aim that thing somewhere else, will you?" He looked at the prototronics with a glare. "What part about 'staying put' did you three not understand?"

"Aw," Chica said. "Bill…"

"No," Afton calmly said. "No one here is in the mood for more warehouse chases. Just go downstairs, and I'll meet you there later."

The prototronics looked at him for a second. Afraid that they were going to refuse, Douglas kept his taser at the ready. That turned out to be unnecessary though, as the girls ultimately walked in the direction of the stairwell door. Chica murmured a few more complaints, but that was it.

Afton looked at Douglas and Griffiths. "So," the engineer dryly said. "How's everyone doing today?"

Griffiths gave the man a glare.

"Oh, come on, Kyle," Afton said. "You should know this wasn't my doing." He grinned. "Just so we're clear, you're completely safe from them. They'd never hurt a fly, even now. But before you leave, there's something I need to tell you."

"Does it justify your sadistic sense of humor?" Griffiths asked. "Sending those animatronics after us…"

"Sending them? All I did was repair them. What they did after that wasn't me." He threw up his hands. "Come on! I only needed to do a little research to find out about how many people ran away from the nightshift at your restaurant. You really thought they left because the office was so terrifyingly stuffy?"

Griffiths gruffly turned to Douglas. "Do you know what he is talking about?"

Douglas hesitated.

"Come on, don't bring Douglas into this," Afton said. "That's my job. For now, though, all I need to tell you is that these animatronics are sentient—same goes for the animatronics that work at Freddy's right now. I made friends with the old models back when the restaurant was still just a distant fantasy."

A silence fell.

"The animatronics?" Griffiths flatly said. "Sentient? Their performance scared me, I will admit. But sentience? This is not some science fiction story."

Afton looked at him. Then he turned to Douglas. "Are you sure about that, Kyle?"

Griffiths frowned and looked to Douglas again.

"I-it's true, sir," Douglas finally admitted, his voice quiet. "Th-they walk around freely during the night. They can talk, think for themselves… Th-they're like humans. They're the reason I started digging in the company's past in the first place. When I found the old models, I-I suspected they had similar traits…similar sentience…so I tried to stop you from destroying them. I even asked Mr. Afton for help."

"I'll admit," Afton said, "I wasn't being too polite to him—but, y'know, trust issues. It's a good thing he came to me when he did, 'cause I wouldn't've been able to keep the 'tronics safe from you if he hadn't."

Griffiths looked conflicted. His gaze went from Douglas to Afton and back, visibly trying to make sense of the situation. He obviously didn't know what to believe—for all he knew, Douglas and Afton could be working against him or playing some prank. But he didn't seem to immediately draw such a conclusion, which was surprising to say the least.

"You don't even know if they're really sentient," Griffiths finally said. "They're programmed to act like humans. I think the both of you got fooled."

"And they've got pre-programmed lines they can say and actions they can perform," Afton affirmed. "But I'm pretty sure that chasing people around a warehouse isn't included in that."

"Chica did say our names downstairs…" Douglas said. "And the ones at Freddy's keep saying and doing things that aren't part of their programming, too."

A pause. "It…would certainly explain much," Griffiths finally said. "The animatronics hunting the guards… The guards themselves always came up with a story like that, but I never believed them."

"O-oh, they're not hunting the guards," Douglas quickly said. "The guards were just scared of them. I was scared too. I even tried to escape, but…ah…" He chuckled sheepishly. "Chica stole my keys."

"Really?" Afton said. "Sounds like she's inherited some traits from her predecessor."

"Why keep this a secret?" Griffiths asked Douglas. "Those other guards looked disturbed. But if you, the one exception to that rule, had told me about this, I might have done some investigations."

"They-they asked me not to!" Douglas defended. "I…made a promise to them."

"Can you honestly blame him, Kyle?" Afton asked. "So far, almost everyone who found out that the animatronics were alive ran away screaming. You're Freddy's manager—you wouldn't've fled, you would've had them disintegrated."

Griffiths fell silent, looking like he was out of arguments to use. Two of Freddy's employees telling the same story? That was no coincidence. "If I'd known about their sentience," he eventually said, his voice shaking, "I would never even have thought of scrapping the old models. Taking them apart would've been…!" His hand went to one of the nearby pallet rack to keep his apparent sudden dizziness from getting the better of him.

"Murder," Afton calmly said. "Exactly right. It would've been murder."

Douglas shot Afton a glare. "Sorry, sir," Douglas said to Griffiths. "I should've told you."

Griffiths looked down. His grip on the pallet rack visibly tightened, but he eventually let out a breath. "I… You were right. I doubt I would've believed you." He glanced at the guard. "Besides, you did everything in your power to stop me from coming to this warehouse."

"Well, anyways," Afton eventually said. "Now that everything's clear, I have some things to ask you. These old models are going to need a place to stay. This warehouse is old and abandoned—a pretty shitty home. Can you help them out? A warehouse that's just a little bit better is enough."

"I will…think about it," Griffiths softly said. "I may also have them fully repaired."

"Thanks." Afton started walking towards the stairwell door. "I'll call you sometime to remind you, I guess. For now, I'm just going to keep searching this warehouse; Foxy is still missing, and I didn't have much time to look for her before you came along."

"Bill."

Afton stopped and turned to the manager.

"Can you tell the animatronics that I am sorry?" Griffiths asked. "For nearly…scrapping them."

"Will do."

Afton left. Griffiths looked to Douglas. "Those new animatronics…" Griffiths eventually said. "The puppet and the balloon vendor…are they…?"

"Yeah, they're sentient too."

Griffiths exhaled. "The mere experience of being activated for the first time must've been…confusing for them. All of them."

Douglas shrugged. "They never really talk about that, actually. But they're good people. They were actually the ones who…took care of Maxwell."

"And your brother? Does he know?"

"Yes, he does. He also made a promise to keep it a secret."

Griffiths visibly hesitated. "I…would like to meet them."

Douglas started "Are you sure about that, sir?"

"Why wouldn't I be? For nineteen years, I've seen them as my property. Now that I learned the truth, I want to be able to see them for who they really are." He paused. "In fact, I want to meet the older models too, eventually. For now though, I should probably keep my distance; I was their would-be killer, after all."

Douglas hesitated. "I'm…surprised to see that you actually believe me. About this whole sentience thing."

"Truth be told, I still want to see further evidence. But I admit that the animatronics did seem like they were acting of their own accords."

"Evidence can be arranged, sir," Douglas said.

As they walked back to the parking lot—they didn't see Afton or the prototronics on their way out—Douglas felt relief hit him. Griffiths finally knew the truth, and the prototronics were going to live.

It had been a close call; if it weren't for Griffiths' open-mindedness, things still would've ended badly. If Douglas hadn't visited Afton, the engineer wouldn't've been able to intervene. If it weren't for the anime-tronics' help, Douglas might not have known what to do.

In the end, the guard was thankful for many things.


This is not the end yet. Two more chapters—including the epilogue—to go.