The liquid stung against his wounds. It brought him a memory-
Everything brought him memories.
They were all painful to remember. They made him hurt inside. He missed everyone all so much…
Lyra slammed the peroxide on the table and began to click her nails impatiently on the table. She was always irritable these days, and it was beginning to show. Her eyes were dark and she had deep wrinkles by her eyes. He assumed it was from work, but a part of him said otherwise.
"Don't be mad at him," Jeremy huffed; his stomach felt tight. Uncomfortable. He felt queasy.
"I'm not mad at him," Lyra replied coolly. She flashed her husband an icy glare.
He froze.
"What did I do? You told me to go talk to him and I did; what more did you want me to do?" Jeremy asked.
"That whole episode out there; did you honestly get nothing out of it?" Lyra snapped in exasperation. She clenched her fists, knocking them against the table. It was a new habit she had developed to keep from lashing out him, as she normally tended to do as her tolerance level had exponentially plummeted since the familial issues developed.
It hurt.
"And I did tell you to go talk to him. I never said go blast him in the ass with the hose," Lyra grumbled, looking to the side.
Jeremy sighed and slumped into the dining chair.
"Are you going to stop crying so I can continue?" Lyra asked in agitation.
Jeremy sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes.
"Yeah…"
Lyra begrudgingly picked back up on her work.
It was quiet. There was some scuffling and laughter from upstairs, probably his daughter playing around with her toys. Family things didn't seem to bother her too much. He was glad for that. It worried Lyra, on the other hand.
He had so many thoughts in his head.
They all made him sad.
He wanted to forget them, but they never went away. They were always there.
Lyra stopped again and waited for Jeremy to collect himself once more before continuing again.
"You're seeing a therapist. Tomorrow," Lyra dictated.
"I'm not," Jeremy objected with a frown. "I'm fine."
"Our own son just beat the snot out of you in our front yard. In front of our neighbors. And you just layed there and let him drive away without a shit in the world!" Lyra retorted with a shout. She was on her feet, her hands slammed down on the table as she fumed. "You are not okay."
Jeremy was quiet.
Lyra sat back down in her chair and continued. She paused; her anger seemed to have fizzled slightly and had been replaced by slight worry.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, pressing the soaked cotton ball into one of Jeremy's cuts.
He winced.
"I'm sorry," she sighed, though as she began to rub, it was obvious she was not.
"I didn't realize how bad it had gotten," Jeremy mumbled. He seemed reluctant to talk, making Lyra unwilling to comment.
It went quiet again.
Lyra pulled away, but this time, only slightly less annoyed.
"I'm just so… I'm so scared, you know..?" Jeremy stammered, looking at his wife for some sort of hint she understood. She looked more or less confused. He sighed. "I just… Didn't want to grow so attached to something like that again… I thought if I kept away from him, he would keep away from me, I… It worked out in my head, I guess… I never thought this would happen…"
"You got attached to me, didn't you?" Lyra asked, quirking her eyebrows in question.
"And every day I'm scared you're never going to come back home!" Jeremy explained with a whine. "I never meant to hurt him…"
"You're his dad, Jeremy. What did you think was going to happen if you ignored him?" Lyra huffed. She tossed her cotton ball away and got out a stick, applying some antibiotics on it before smearing it onto his wounds.
"I thought- I don't know. I don't know what I thought," Jeremy sighed, hunching over slightly as he rested his head on his hand in contemplation.
"A boy needs a father. I've been trying to tell you this for years now…"
It went quiet again.
"Do you think it's too late?"
"Do I think what is too late?"
"To fix it… Things… Wi-with him…"
Lyra put the supplies down and stared at her husband with shock. She never would have expected a question like that from him.
Jeremy rubbed his hands together anxiously.
"I- No, I don't think so. It won't get better overnight, though. Like I said, we're going to get a therapist; preferably tomorrow," she replied, getting some butterfly-bandages out.
"I… I care about him… You know… I just wanted to keep him safe… And myself…"
"Jeremy, if you want to fix things, then go find him and talk to him. Tell him all of this yourself- As far as he's concerned, you think he's a failed abortion," Lyra explained, lowering her eyes slightly.
"Where would he even be?" Jeremy asked, perking his attention up slightly.
"Call Dana and ask her; she'll probably know," Lyra replied before repacking all the supplies. She pecked Jeremy on the cheek and ruffled his messy hair before tromping off to put the First Aid kit away.
Jeremy sat alone in the Dining Room. His gaze was fixated on the table. He was waging a mental war on himself. He had been for years.
Drunk or don't get drunk?
Cry and be angry, or just move on?
Ignore and traumatize your son or love him like they all would have wanted?
He had picked the first out of every option. It just made more sense. To him, anyways. Was it the right choice? Of course not. Could he control his emotions? That was debatable. He decided that no; he could not.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe he could.
Maybe he had forever ruined his relationship with his only son.
Maybe he was a terrible dad and always would be.
Maybe Frederick had always been right and he was a pansy. A pansy of a person, a pansy of a husband, a pansy of a father…
What if Genevieve was starting to turn out the same way?
Oh dear God.
"Hello?"
Jeremy jumped at the voice. It appeared he had subconsciously picked up the phone and called Dana. What for? He had no idea.
"Dana, have you seen Peter?" he asked. He opted out the scuffle they had gone through about an hour ago. She didn't need to know about that.
"Peter? No, I haven't. I'm sorry. Why, what happened?" Dana replied, her voice hinted with worry.
"He ran off and Lyra and I have no idea where he might be," he sighed; he felt somewhat upset that she didn't know. He was quiet a moment before huffing "If you see him, call us, okay?"
"Okay. I will," she hurriedly answered.
The phone clicked.
She had hung up.
He felt bad for her.
He missed the old Dana.
^xx..oo..xx^
It was starting to get dark outside, and there had been no sign of Peter anywhere. No phone call, from either him or Dana. Nothing on the news about murder or a suicide (not that they were suspecting he would go wild, but kids this day and age were crazy).
Jeremy was worried sick and was wracked with guilt. This was all his fault… This all could have been avoided, all of it could have. He had ruined everything. He always ruined everything. He had caused The Bite, he had lost Mike's friendship, he had caused Mike to die, caused Dana to become a loon, caused all his beloved animatronics to perish, caused those poor children to never reach peace-
He sobbed into his hands.
He sniffled and wiped his nose. He pushed some tears out of his eyes.
He picked up the phone and dialed Peter's number. He wasn't expecting the boy to answer.
Jeremy set the phone down, raising an eyebrow. There was ringing. At some length it worried him, but also brought a smile to his face. Peter had forgotten his phone in his abruptness to leave. He would surely come back home for it.
He walked over and picked it up upon cancelling his attempt to phone his son.
And he stared at it.
The phone fell from his fingers and cracked as it hit the ground.
"Lyra!" Jeremy shouted panickedly. He shakily reached down to pick the phone back up, but could only bring himself to drop it again.
What was Golden Freddy doing on the lock screen of his son's phone?!
"Lyra! I'm not kidding around! Get down here right now!" he demanded, his voice getting louder with worry.
"I'm coming!" she shouted back, stumbling down the stairs. "Is he home? Is he hurt?"
"No! Look at this- Look at his phone!" Jeremy exclaimed, shoving the device into Lyra's hands. "Who is that; who do you see?"
Lyra stared at it, her eyes wide.
"I-isn't that Mike?" she stammered, looking up to Jeremy.
"It's… It's Golden Freddy-" he started. He grabbed his own phone and dialed Dana again.
It rang.
"I don't understand… I thought the pizzeria burnt down…" Lyra whispered, scrolling through his phone for pictures. Peter had never set up a password on his phone, so it was easy to get into.
It rang again.
He was sweating.
"Jeremy- I had no idea- I don't even know… Was there even a Golden Bonnie thing there before?" Lyra yammered as she scrolled through the seemingly endless supply of weed-fueled selfies. She had no idea where her son had been going all this time-
"Stop it; put his phone down, don't touch it," Jeremy barked, smacking the phone from her hands.
The phone rang again. Jeremy hung up.
"Where does he work?" Jeremy asked. He looked crazed.
"I don't know, I never asked-" Lyra replied, looking down as she rubbed her arm.
"Go get Genevieve- No, Never mind, I'll go," he rambled. He was incoherent. It was like a nightmare. What did his son know? What had his son been getting into…
Goddammit, Peter…
Jeremy raced up the stairs, tripping on them as he barged into his daughter's room. He was surprised to have caught her up this late- It was nearly 12:30 AM. She was holding a flashlight and looked relatively spooked. Jeremy didn't seem to notice this, however.
"Honey, where's Peter at?" Jeremy ask, getting down on his knees as he clung to her small shoulders.
She blinked at him.
"Please! Genevieve! It's important! He's in trouble and I need to find him!" Jeremy pleaded, practically groveling at her feet.
She looked down and whined. She pointed her finger at the closet.
"I don't have time to play games with you!" Jeremy barked, quickly growing impatient with her reluctance to speak. "Tell me where Peter is! Where does he work?"
"Monsters..." she squeaked, cuddling the flashlight close to her chest as she looked away, still pointing at her closet.
Jeremy sighed bitterly. In his incessant sobbing and worrying over Peter's whereabouts, he had forgotten to check her room for monsters. She wasn't going to cooperate with him until he did.
"Alright fine," he huffed, getting up from the ground. He buckled slightly at the swift movement and cracked his knee- God he was getting old… He ushered his daughter over to the closet and swiped his old flashlight back from her. He opened the closet and shone the light inside, revealing the clothes and toys inside. "See? Nothing. You're fine."
Genevieve didn't look convinced and pointed to her bed.
Jeremy rolled his eyes and walked over to her small bed. He got down on his stomach and lifted the blankets, shining the flashlight underneath. There was nothing still.
"There; you good? Nothing," Jeremy huffed, giving her a forced smile.
She was quiet before stalking out of her room. Jeremy got up and followed her. She led him into Peter's unkempt, darker than night, room. It was a wonder how the kid hadn't transformed into an albino he got into so little contact with the sun… Genevieve grabbed a paper off of his desk and handed it over.
"Jeremy! Dana called! He's at some place called 'Fazbear's Fright'?" Lyra shouted from downstairs.
He couldn't breathe. It should have all been over. This couldn't be real.
He had somehow gone back downstairs and was grabbing his keys.
Lyra was trying to stop him, but he couldn't hear her. He drowned her out with his thoughts, as he usually did.
He closed the front door, Lyra still screaming after him to calm down so they could figure out what to do together.
Jeremy got into his car and left for Fazbear's Fright.
^xx..oo..xx^
And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder:
One of the four beasts saying: "Come and see." And I saw.
And behold, a white horse.
This place was a perversion. A taint. Something so despicable it made him want to vomit. It was as if someone had spat upon the graves of the children and danced upon them. Making a mockery of their deaths; praising the horrors they had gone through. Praising the pain and suffering they went through; what their families had gone through; what the restaurant itself had gone through.
It was quiet.
It was dirty.
And it was painful.
Despite everything this place had been made for, Jeremy found it to be an accurate representation of what was really lying beneath all checkered flooring and smiles thrown out to the public. Under the piles of lies and cover ups his old boss had made, was a horror show. And hate him or not, Justin had done a damn good job of bringing every bit of it to the light. It was funny to think he had been inspired by his mother's hallucinations; they suddenly didn't seem to be pigments of her wounded imagination.
Jeremy traversed the attraction with his attention as high as it would go. He noticed every detail in every room. It took every bit of willpower he had to keep from crying out at the sight of Foxy; of Chica, of Bonnie… He knew that these had been the faces he used to see every night and day. The odds were not in his favor of that being the case, but he just knew these were the originals.
Where's Freddy at, then?
He put a hand against Golden Freddy's head.
Mike's definitely gone now.
He peered into the Office and recoiled. He didn't find his son in there, but instead, a rather charred rendition of the Marionette coated in icing holding a rather large cake.
"H-How are you… I thought you burned-"
"Fancy the odds of seeing two Fitzgeralds in one night," the Marionette giggled sarcastically as it dipped a finger into the icing and pressed it into its mouth. "What are you doing here, Jeremy?"
"I'm looking for my son; I'm assuming you've seen him," Jeremy replied; he was tightly gripping his pants, trying to recall the song that he used to play for the thing to keep it from killing him. He hadn't seen any music box, so he couldn't figure out how Peter had kept the thing at bay.
It stared at Jeremy, tilting its head to the side with curiosity. "You appear to have developed some war wounds since I last saw you; very recently I suspect?"
"I- Yes- Have you seen him?" Jeremy repeated; he was growing impatient, but didn't want to risk upsetting it.
"It doesn't matter. If you came to see him, you are too late. He has already failed, and Springtrap has already whisked him off to do who knows what," the Marionette explained. It cut a sliver of cake and offered the cake to Jeremy, noticing he looked utterly devastated and confused. "Chin up. You and I are on the same boat now. Have some cake; it'll make you feel better."
"What do you mean I'm too late?" Jeremy asked, feeling his stomach sink at the words. "Who's Springtrap?"
"I mean you're too late. He's gone. I suspect Vincent was getting lonely- Peter will probably be stuffed into one of the suits. There's lots of them around here, all empty. It's hard to tell with him," the Marionette replied, growing quiet as it looked at the ground. Jeremy would even say it looked a little upset. "Springtrap is the animatronic that roams around here. The suit itself is that of Spring Bonnie, otherwise known as Berry Bunny. He performed with Fredbear at the original location. Vincent died inside of it and now possesses it; together they are known as Springtrap."
"V-Vincent- You mean Purple Guy 'Vincent'? Vincent who murdered the kids-"
"It may not seem justified or fair to you, but when you lose your child, you do anything you possibly can to make it right. I'm sure soon you will learn that feeling," the Marionette mumbled darkly.
"It sounds to me like you're trying to justify murder," Jeremy huffed, crossing his arms as he tried to suppress tears. There was no way his son was dead- He just couldn't imagine it. He just had a… Feeling…
"I'm not trying to justify anything, Jeremy. I'm just telling you things," it replied, smearing some more icing onto its face. It stared at Jeremy once more. "Quit making that stupid face; losing your kid isn't the end of the world."
Jeremy shot daggers at the Marionette, a few tears escaping the barricades he was trying to build up. He couldn't speak, as he risked exploding in a crying fit.
"If it makes you feel any better, he isn't dead yet. Just unconscious. He screamed until he passed out. That didn't stop Springtrap from beating the tar out of him to vent some anger, of course, but your boy is still kicking. Somewhere…"
"Please… Help me… I-I… I have to make things right- There has to be something I can do…" Jeremy stammered, his voice taut and shaky.
The Marionette stared at him. Expressionless.
"Please! Help me! Haven't enough people died because of this?" Jeremy argued.
"You're right. I will help you."
Jeremy's eyes lit up as the Marionette set the cake aside and got to its feet. It plucked a candle from the cake and handed it over to Jeremy who gawked at it in confusion.
"You are right, but my services are not free. This place was poorly made, there's faulty wiring everywhere. I want you to burn it down," the Marionette instructed, its signature pinprick eyes shining devilishly at Jeremy. It giggled. "Toss the candles all over the area. I don't want a single board left in place. By the time the flames die down, Fazbear Entertainment will be nothing more than a bad memory and a pile of ashes."
"B-burn it down?" Jeremy repeated, eyeing the flickering light on the tip. "O-okay… I guess…"
"Good. And don't worry; as long as we're quick, you and your son will be able to get out just before the exits are impossible to access."
"Great, that makes me feel so much more comfortable about the situation. It's not like arson is a felony or anything…" Jeremy muttered.
He stalked off with the candle in hand; he made his way back to the entrance and tossed the candle onto the ground. He didn't stick around to watch it ignite anything. He returned to the Office and picked up two more before stalking off again into the building. He placed one comically into Foxy's gaping mouth and laid one on the stack of presents near Chica's head.
Back and forth he went, grabbing candles and placing them in various areas about the attraction until he had placed all the candles upon the cake. Returning to the Office, the Marionette gave a nod of approval before stepping wordlessly ahead of Jeremy, leading him through the maze of areas with the fluidity of a ballerina. Jeremy found it difficult to keep up, especially since he had to maneuver around the growing flames to keep from burning himself or catching his clothes on the flames. Eventually the converged upon what looked like an aracde area.
"In the corner, you will find a machine that will easily move away and reveal the Safe Room. He is in there. Be quick. As sson as you get a hold of him, leave. Springtrap will be most unhappy to find you in there," the Marionette explained, taking a step back.
"You're not coming with me?" Jeremy asked, tilting his head with slight dismay.
"I've got other plans," it giggled. It reached a hand up and into the ceiling, from which it pulled down a string. Attached to the string was a white balloon. "Maybe we'll see each other again some time, eh, Jeremy? Once you kick the bucket?"
Jeremy watched in awe as the Marionette floated away into the ceiling and out of sight.
Or maybe it wasn't the Marionette at all?
Puzzled and somewhat enlightened, Jeremy walked to the corner and began shifting the arcade games; one of them, as he had been told, easily moved away and revealed a door labeled "Employees Only". Carefully, he opened the door and stepped inside.
It was dark, but he felt a smile tear onto his face.
His beaten, battered, bloodied, and bruised son was lying in a crumpled mess on the floor in a puddle of fluids that were to remain unidentified.
He squeaked happily and rushed to embrace his little boy. He began to cry, lovingly kissing the top of Peter's hair, ignoring the fact it was clotted with blood. He held the boy's hand in his own. He hugged him tight, pressing him into his chest, muttering incoherent sorry's and I-love-you's and promises to make everything alright again.
Jeremy knew it was no use to try and wake Peter up. The kid was out cold; from the gashes and bruising to the sides of his head, Jeremy even feared he, at the very least, had a concussion. He kept quiet, but attempted to be quick as he shuffled under Peter's body and propped him up on his shoulders.
It took a majority of Jeremy's strength to carry his son; his body wasn't as fit as it had once been in years past. It was a struggled to even open the door, and even more so to fit through it without causing any further harm to Peter's body; he was in such bad shape that the only thing that let Jeremy know there was still a flicker of life was the raspy breathing escaping his lips.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,
And I looked and behold: a pale horse.
And his name, that sat on him, was Death.
And Hell followed with him.
There was a wheezing noise. As if it were something trying to be alive, trying to survive, but was inevitably dying. The footsteps were soft, metal; but were abrupt, and slammed.
Jeremy could see the silver eyes of the creature. It was blocking the path he had been expecting to take; it was the shortest route to the exit. The flames created a silhouette, but Jeremy knew exactly what it was he was looking at.
"Springtrap…"
The golden rabbit took a step forward, its head twitching as it tilted to the side.
"An-anoth-er f…. f-friend for us?" crackled the animatronic's weak, timid voice.
Another voice erupted from it, and as it spoke, its head convulsed and its body twitched horrendously.
"No," was the response; it was Vincent's voice.
The animatronic blinked and tilted its head to the other side before outstretching its arms and charging at the two opposing characters.
Jeremy darted to the side and made a dash past the rows of arcade games and turned down another hallway; it was just beginning to catch alight with flames, but was heavily filled with smoke. Carrying Peter and squat-running with him was near impossible at this age, so he was forced to take a breath and attempt a sprint. He was thankful that the hallway was empty.
"G-et b… a-ck h-h-he-re Je-erem… y! L-look at wh-wha-a-t you m… ade th-o… se bra-t-ts do to m-e..!"
Jeremy slammed into the Bonnie prop, stumbling over. Thankfully, the wall had saved him from enduring a nasty spill. Failing now would mean getting caught. Even then, he was certain he couldn't outrun Springtrap; he may have been old and corroded, but he was fast.
There was singing.
"Some men have died and some are alive; and others sail on the sea."
Jeremy knew Foxy's chanties anywhere. He even heard… Was that..?
"Vixen?!" Jeremy exclaimed in shock. He stepped up to the opening of an area; the fire was intense in the space, but he could faintly make out the mechanical pile of parts in the midst, and the mounted Foxy head singing with them.
"With the keys to the cage and the devil to pay, we lay to the fiddler's green."
How was Vixen alive? How was she singing? He vividly remembered watching her die right in front of him from the heat of the fire destroying her circuitry- But there was no mistaking that voice of her's-
He had to get her out of here.
I can't carry the both of them.
Jeremy stood a second, staring at Vixen and Foxy. Knowing the both of them as he did, the song selection was not a random choice. It had meaning- What it was, however, he did not know, nor did he have the time to contemplate what it was.
He finally broke his feet away and ran down the hall.
He took a right; they were at the Office. The exit was just up ahead.
Springtrap skid and slammed into the wall; it was good Jeremy had left when he did.
The fire made the animatronic-
Demon.
Look ravenous. Like an animal-
The sadistic killer he truly was.
This had to end.
Jeremy rushed into the Office and dropped the still limp Peter into the chair. Springtrap loomed at the entrance, cackling and wheezing as he took a few steps inside. There was a red light blinking on and off and a loud alarm blaring- He hadn't heard it before.
"You j-jus...t si-si-si… gned your own d… eath-th-th cert-ifi-fic… cate," Springtrap laughed, pushing his way to Jeremy. He trompled forward, arms wide and ready as he charged.
Jeremy smirked as he swung the maintenance panel out and smashed Springtrap's smiling face into it. The screen shattered, and the killer's long delayed execution was set in motion.
Springtrap screamed, trying frantically to remove himself from the device, but found he was both stuck and his body was unwilling to cooperate with the commands he was dishing out to it. Vincent wanted free from the panel.
Berry wanted free from Vincent.
Jeremy inched between the desk and the ongoing electric light show. He had noticed how poorly the place's electricity had been set up- He wouldn't be surprised if Springtrap was coursing with all the power the attraction had to offer. He felt bad for the part of the animatronic that was apparently named Berry- He hadn't wanted to hurt it, but… Jeremy felt he was providing a necessary service by ridding it of Vincent's hellish spirit.
Jeremy grabbed the chair and began to push Peter out.
He stopped to open the door.
It wouldn't budge. And it burned-
There was no use in trying to get it to open.
He slumped to the ground. He had no tears left to cry. So he sat. He was in a predicament he had never thought he would have to go through again. He chuckled; it seemed that it was true. History did have a way of repeating itself. At least this time he had finally gotten to do what he had been meaning to do from the very start.
Maybe the children can rest easy now…
Maybe he could, too.
"What are you doing on the ground, Jeremy?"
He looked up.
It was a very withered and crippled looking Freddy.
Jeremy got up. He had a feeling that maybe this was not Freddy, as with the case of the Marionette. Perhaps…
"Fleur?" he questioned.
Freddy chuckled and tipped his hat, his eyes flickering black a moment before growing silver again.
"Your son was fun to spook around, just like you were," he sighed. He hobbled forward, leaning heavily on the wall as he was missing his leg. With one mighty swing, he bashed the door open, sending some siding and bits of the interior out into the parking lot.
Jeremy blinked. He grabbed the chair and slowly began to step up to the exit. A part of him wanted to stay.
"Go on, then. I hope you know how hard it was to get that open- I am just a spiritual entity, after all," Freddy explained with a wink. He seemed to sense Jeremy's reluctance and worry. He chuckled. "Hey, don't forget my song. It's going to be okay, alright? A dark eye is watching you; love is waiting for you."
The former security guard looked down at his son. He smiled.
And he left the burning building.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: BEFORE ANYONE WRITES A REVIEW, PLEASE REALIZE THAT I HAVE NOT WRITTEN ANYTHING ABOUT THE NIGHTMARE ANIMATRONICS. THE STORY IS NOT OVER. PLEASE CALM DOWN. I'M WORKING AS FAST AS I CAN. PLEASE BE PATIENT!
Also had to edit this chapter because I obviously don't know how to tell time.
~Admin LP