A/N: Welcome back guys, hope you're doing well. Man, it's been a while since I updated a week after a chapter. I was going to put this up yesterday, but wasn't entirely satisfied and decided to change a few things.

This chap and the next one are going to be really long, since I want to finally finish this story in the next chapter. Then there's going to be a short epilogue. Everything should be over before FNaF's third anniversary on the 8th of August. Guys, we're almost done! Thanks for your reviews and reads, and as always, happy reading!


Chapter 51: Forgotten

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Evie." Peter's grave voice says solemnly. The woman can hear the familiar background noises of a busy office at the other end of the line. "Was she close to you?"

"Well, we weren't that close." Evelyn replies, trying to hide her uneasiness. "It's been years since I saw her. And she wasn't technically an aunt, just a really good friend of dad."

"How come I never met her before?" The man's friendly question sounds strangely poignant to the nervous woman. She doesn't mind lying to strangers as long as it's justifiable, but she has never done it to Peter.

"Well, she… moved. To Florida." Evelyn barely resists the urge to bang her head against the steering will of her parked sedan. "And we lost touch ever since, but I want to meet her family. To be honest, I'd feel pretty bad if I don't go to the funeral at least."

There's a short silence at the other end of the line, and she knows that Peter won't buy her whole charade. But he still says "Alright, let me know when you get back in town. You already told the office that you're taking a few days off, right?"

"Yes, don't worry about it."

"Take care Evie."

"You too."

She quickly presses the bright red button on her smartphone's screen, and sighs in slight regret. "Sorry Peter, but even you can't know what I'm about to do." Evelyn takes a sip of coffee from her thermos, leaves her car, and walks briskly to the dilapidated building to her left under the late-afternoon sun.

Despite her curiosity bordering on obsession with her father's death, she never dared to enter the previously-abandoned building. Besides, there wasn't any valid reason to do so: there was nothing in there. She hoped that no one would occupy it again, leaving it as an ugly, silent monument to those nameless victims. Her wishes were not fulfilled.

A sizable wooden sign already hung above the front door, showing off the name Fazbear's Fright in carved white letters on blackened wood. Evelyn tries not to scowl at the sight as she approaches the entrance, hesitating for a moment before finally knocking on the dark metal door.

She's surprised when the door swings open almost immediately, and a lanky teen with unruly hair and loose graphic t-shirt smiles at her from the hallway. "Hey, hey! Welcome there missy!" He then smiles slyly at the woman. "Sorry, I meant… ma'am." His overly-relaxed voice has an irking nasal ring and drawling tune, instantly recalling images of blond men on a California beach with oversized sunglasses and six-packs of Bud Light.

Evelyn does her best to feign a smile as she steps into the building. "Good afternoon sir." she greets with cold formality, "I emailed the man in charge this morning; it's about the night guard position. May I speak to him?"

"Oh! Of course!" The teen nods with opened eyes, as if he had uncovered some obscure secret of life whilst meditating. "You're Evelyn Hoops, right?"

"Actually, it's Hobbs." Her formal smile quivers with contained irritation, then disappears altogether. "Wait, are you the one on charge of everything?!"

"That's right!" The young man beams a proud smile, hands on hips. "Name's Markus, but just call me Mark!" He quickly stretches his opened hand to the woman, who reluctantly takes it. Mark then moves his arm up and down aggressively, and Evelyn accepts it as an attempt at a formal handshake.

"Dude, I'm so happy you're here!" continues Mark in never-dying excitement. "Uh, we really need a night guard. Like, last Friday someone stole all our new wiring and fuses from the arcade room. I was freaking pissed man, really! Like, why would you do that? There's also…"

Evelyn automatically tunes out Mark's babbling as she enters the building. She never saw its interior after its closure, but knew that it wasn't supposed to look like this. Instead of a large dining area flanked by smaller rooms and corridors, she steps into a narrow hallway that turns abruptly after a few feet. There are no windows, and as soon as she closes the door behind her, she feels completely isolated from the outside world. The checkered tiles on the floor and walls seem legitimate, but the walls aren't where they're supposed to be. Everything feels grimy, unkempt, and aided by the dirty green spotlights, somewhat surreal.

"What happened to the walls?" she asks, looking at the strange place with confusion.

Mark stops his rambling and looks around, as if it was new for him as well. "Yeah, uh, we put on a lot of these drywalls over the old ones. Uh, when the place opens, people will come in at this entrance, and work their way towards the office, then past it and out the exit. But we haven't really carved out that exit yet, so for now there's only this one." He points at the entrance with a glowing 'EXIT' sign above it. "Let's go. I wanna show you around."

The young man leads the way to the first turn in the long, snaking hallway. Rounding the corner, Evelyn can't help but stagger back when she sees a round, massive hollow head on the floor. Beaming from its eyes, a spotlight inside Chica's skull illuminates the pair.

"Is it real?" asks Evelyn in awe, catching up with the never-stopping Mark.

"Uh, we hope so." he says as they pass by an arcade room. "We've been gathering genuine stuff from Freddy's for almost a year now. We found some great new relics over the weekend. And uh, we're out tracking down a new lead, right now. We got another set of drawings, always nice, and a Foxy head! Which we think to be authentic... then again it might just be another crappy cosplay." He grins stupidly at his own phrase. "But we did find a whole animatronic. Uh, it's the blue rabbit."

"You found Bonnie?" Evelyn can't believe what she's hearing. "Where is he?"

"All boxed up in that room. Dude, you have no idea how hard it was to find that thing!" As they turn another corner, Mark points at a narrow rectangular room, connected to the hallway they're currently in by two doorless passages. Evelyn barley manages to glimpse at the corner of a man-sized crate, before once again turning a corner.

They're now in front of the office. A large window in front of the desk grants Evelyn a good sight of the room, guarded by Freddy's torso and head hooked up on a pole. "Yeah, uh, I know it's not very cozy." continues Mark, "Just make sure that no one enters this place before it's open. There are a couple of monitors with a control panel in there, you see it?" Evelyn nods. "You can check the security cameras over to your right with a click of that blue button. Uh, then over to your far left, uh, you can flip up your maintenance panel. Y'know, use this to reboot any systems that may go offline. Heh. So, in trying to make the place feel vintage we may have overdone it a bit, he he. Some of this equipment is barely functional. You got it?"

"Sounds simple enough." says Evelyn with confidence. "When can I start?"

"That's the spirit! You can come tonight." Mark fishes a set of keys from his pocket, and handles them over to the woman. "So, like, don't let anyone in, make sure no one's making out in a corner, and don't let anything catch fire! Let's go, you're gonna need some sleep if you're gonna make it to 6 AM."

As they head back through the winding hallway, stared upon by drawings, posters and disembodied heads of doubtful authenticity, Evelyn can't help but feel uncomfortable with her actions. Seeing the pain and misery of so many people, including herself, turned into a horror attraction for cheap thrills is nothing short of sacrilegious. Even when she aims to end to everything with the help of her new acquaintances, she feels like she's sinning against the memory of her father.

"Evelyn, are you like, a furry or something?"

Caught off guard, the woman glares at Mark after the sudden question. "Uh, no." she stammers out, "I'm pretty sure I'm not. I have nothing against furries, by the way. To each his own… why are we even talking about this?"

"Uh, I honestly thought we would have more things by now." replies Mark with feigned seriousness, before giving a cheesy grin. "If we don't have something really cool by next week, we may have to suit you up in a furry suit, and make you walk around saying 'Boo!', he he."

Evelyn just sighs as they near the exit, shaking her head slightly.

"But seriously though, we need more complete animatronics beside Bonnie." Once again, the man's tone becomes somewhat formal. "Like I said, we're trying to track down a good lead right now. Uh, some guy who helped design one of the buildings says there was, like, an extra room that got boarded up or- uh, something like that. So, we're gonna take a peek and see what we can find."

The woman's body instantly turns to ice as they stop by the door. Before losing most of their memories, the phantoms told Mike that the murderer was trapped inside the secret room. Mike, in turn, shared that information with Evelyn two nights ago. She doesn't want to consider what would happen if the monster is released from its prison.

"Mark, are you sure that's a good idea?" she asks, hoping not to sound too nervous. "What if you find something unpleasant?"

"Like what, a bunch of dead rats?" The man scoffs as he opens the door for her. "Evelyn, uh, I appreciate your… faith. But you know those are just urban legends, right?"

"Right." repeats Evelyn in a low tone. "Just urban legends." She gives Mark a small handshake.

"Oh, and one more thing." He releases her hand, just to stare at her with a severity that she didn't believe he possessed. "I wasn't joking about the fire. Like, don't do anything that might overload the circuits. The, uh, stolen wiring was for the building. The circuits you're going to use were already there when Freddy's closed down, and I think most of the fuses don't even work. We're gonna put some new wires before we open though. So, y'know, whatever you do, don't turn on all the lights at the same time. And switch them off every once in a while. Uh, the cables might overheat if you don't."

"Don't worry Mark, I won't let this place catch fire." And with that, Evelyn turns away and walks to her car.


Mike checks his watch, takes off his reading glasses, and sits on the soft carpeting. It's already past midnight, and he still hasn't received any call from Evelyn. On the other side of the small, cozy room, Jack is finishing up one of his largest puzzles yet. The fragmented image, divided in more than 10.000 pieces, spans before him in an incomplete square.

Jack's room is essentially a refurbished side wing of the basement. Dark plywood shelves, overflowing with boxes of puzzles and other table games, span the entirety of the wall to the left of Mike. To the right, there are a few small dressers next to the doorframe. A small beanie bag is propped in a corner next to Jack, though he rarely used it; like others in those bodies, he too had lost the ability to sleep many years ago. Mike and Yin did their outmost best to make it feel like any other part of the house, and for the most part, it does resemble a modest and casual lounge. However, the robotic parts in the drawers, thick power cables along the floor, and golden animatronic suit opposite to Mike quickly break the illusion of normality.

"Do you really think she'll go through with all of this, little brother?" asks the man.

Putting another piece in a corner, Jack tilts his head slightly, before saying "Yes. I could s-see that she was a good person." Not lifting his eyes from the puzzle, he grabs another piece. "There is some d-darkness around her, but everyone has that. You, me, your w-wife… everyone." He puts down the piece, completing the corner. "You can't g-get rid of that darkness, but you can learn to live with it. And make sure it doesn't control you, like it did to us."

"Very true little brother." murmurs Mike, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Very true…"

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he instantly takes it out to answer the call. There's no need to put on his glasses to check the reader ID; only one person could be calling him at this hour.

"Hello Evelyn, is everything okay?"

"Yes, don't worry." replies the woman. "Sorry for the wait; I got a bit stuck with some left-over work."

Mike stands up with a little groan, holding a hand on his lower back. "Don't worry about it. Can I come?"

"Sure. I don't see anyone else around here. You're coming alone tonight, right?"

"I am. Tomorrow's the big night. I just want to get to know the place. See you in a few minutes."

"Alright, I'll meet you at the entrance."

Mike hangs up and stores the phone in his pocket, before rummaging through one of the dressers. After a few seconds, he grabs a hand-held cassette player and one of Brandon's tapes from a drawer. He then marches to the door with fast, long steps, stopping only to give his brother a pat on the shoulder.

"Mikey, why are you t-taking that with you?" Jack asks, staring up at him with curious eyes.

"I think Brandon can help us a bit more, even if he's not with us right now." The man smiles at his sibling and leaves the room.

Some minutes later, Evelyn sees a familiar pick-up park in front of the building from the doorsteps of Fazbear's Fright. As Mike grabs an old backpack, locks the car and approaches her, she tells him casually: "That was fast."

The man answers with a slight smile, coming to her side. "Not a lot of traffic on a midnight between Monday and Tuesday." He stops to look at the sign above the entrance, and his grin disappears instantly. "There was nothing when I last came here. I actually thought that no one would be stupid enough to touch this building again." He crosses his arms, giving a look of disdain to the sign. "Those guys don't know what they're doing."

"Wait till you see what's inside." Evelyn unlocks the door and swings it open, revealing a pitch-black hallway. She flips a few switches by the door, and a couple of spotlights sputter to life, bringing sporadic light to the gloomy passage. "We can't turn on all the lights at the same time or this whole place might go up in flames."

Mike nods in understanding as he follows the woman into the building. "Thanks for telling me."

They begin to walk through the winding, dark hallway. Evelyn stops abruptly as they round the first corner, frowning in concentration.

"What's wrong?" asks Mike.

"I think I heard something." The woman takes a few steps forwards, stopping again and focusing on her ears. "Like some kind of scratch or thump around me."

Mike walks up to her and grabs her arm, leading her away from the walls at an urgent pace. "That might be him."

"You mean Walther?" asks an unsettled Evelyn as she tries to keep up with the man.

He shakes his head. "I mean the thing he has become after rotting in a springlock suit for thirty years. Don't worry though; he hasn't been able to break through the walls in all that time."

They walk the rest of the way in silence until they reach the office. Mike enters the room first, looking around it in exaggerated awe. "I wish the old office was this big." he said, half-joking. "If I stretched out my arms, I swear I could touch both doors easily." He lays his tattered backpack on the generous desk, next to some glossy figurines of Freddy, Bonnie and Chica.

As Evelyn steps into the office, she notices a stained cardboard box filled with plastic faces. The Toys' hollow eyes stare blankly at her above empty, fake smiles. She inspects a particular one for long seconds: Toy Bonnie's round face seems to be looking straight at her, beckoning for attention.

"What's wrong?" asks Mike with the control panel in his hands.

"We can't save them." replies the woman flatly. "No matter what we do, they're gone forever. And there's no way to give them the rest they deserve."

"I know." Mike looks at the box with similar pity. "It's horrible, like all of this. But for now, let's focus on the ones that we can help."

Evie quickly remembers the crate in that side-room. She nods in agreement, before turning back to the office's entrance. "I'll see if I can open the crate with Brandon's body."

"Sounds good." says Mike, "It'd be pretty great if Yin could fix it. Just let me know when you're done."

Evelyn leaves the office with cautious steps, bypassing what remains of Freddy's body and the large window in front of Mike. Brushing off the sense of unease crawling over her skin, she steps into a narrow room, part of the main hallway, before entering the room to its side. Foxy's luminous head, hanging on the wall like a hunting trophy, welcomes the woman to the dark space. A wooden crate, laid down on the checkered tiles like a sarcophagus, sticks out of its surroundings like a red flag on a blue sky, and Evelyn soon approaches the object.

She's surprised to find no padlocks or nails on the lid; someone else had clearly taken a peek at the body. Resting her slim hands on the rough wood, she pushes the lid to a side with all her strength. But she overestimated the weight of it, and before she can take a hold of the sliding slab of pine, it has already slammed on the floor with a loud bang.

"What was that?!" Mike yells from the office.

"I'm alright!" replies the woman loudly, eyes fixed on the figure before her. "The, uh, lid just fell off! But it's all fine!"

The animatronic's position reminds the woman of a body in an open-casket funeral. The bipedal machine is lying on its back, arms stretched out on its sides with its hands folded partly over its belly. Its remaining eye is closed placidly, whilst the area surrounding the other eye socket bears the deep vertical cut and jagged edges of an axe strike.

Evelyn's lips draw a bittersweet smile as she says gently, "Thank you, Brandon. You've helped as all. Let's see how well they've treated you…"

A quick scan shows that the joints are slightly loosened to allow the folding of the limbs, but are not completely separated. The endoskeleton can be seen between the suit's gaps, and there's nothing visible missing.

Satisfied, Evelyn turns around to face a hulking dark figure with blazing white eyes, glaring at her with primitive anger from the corner of the room. Her face twists into terror and her breath hitches in her throat as she steps back to the crate; the phantom follows her slowly, mouth drawn into a feral snarl. It's only now that the terrified woman recognizes his features and the missing left arm.

"Sean?" she peeps out, just to be interrupted by a sharp, powerful screech. He rushes to her, arm stretched out to grab her, and she sprints to the other side of the room. "Mike! I think I found one of your friends!"

Baring his teeth, the dark phantom turns to Evelyn and once again launches himself at her, trying to take her in his massive hand. But she dashes to the crate, escaping the collision course just to find herself farther from the passage into the hallway. With a reddened face and hammering heart, Evelyn sees the corner of the room behind her and the threatening figure in front. The phantom bellows another piercing screech before throwing himself at the woman, who barely has time to cover her eyes and shield her face.

Clenching her teeth, Evelyn waits for something to happen; something incredibly painful and sudden to ready her for death. But after a few seconds, there's nothing, and she dares open her eyes.

There's no one in front of her. Confused, she looks at the corner behind her to see the dark figure on his hands and knees. His white eyes are still fixed on her, but instead of pure anger, she sees a hint of disappointment, almost sadness. It doesn't take her long to figure out that, just like Brandon's tape described, the ghost must've simply gone through her without harming her in any way.

Evelyn's fear is soon replaced by pity. She slowly and cautiously approaches the phantom, who barely moves. There's a flurry of footsteps in the hallway as she whispers gently and slowly "Sean, we're here to help."

He simply keeps staring at her with the same eyes, and it becomes clear to the woman that he didn't understand her words. Still looking at his eyes, Evelyn feels that she's with an animal, not a person; an old, tired animal who wants to be left alone.

It's in this moment that Mike barges into the room, as fast as his 51 year old body allows. The phantom snaps his head at him, growling in fury, but the man was prepared for the sight. With the cassette player in his hand, he approaches the pair with slow yet firm steps, never breaking eye contact with the dark figure. "Sean, do you know who I am?" he asks with little hope, "Do you know who you are?"

The phantom answers with another animalistic snarl, and Mike can't help but lower his eyes in pain. Sighing, he raises the player and presses the play button. "Maybe this'll help a bit."

I felt a heavy arm wrap itself around my neck and shoulder, pulling me backwards into a warm embrace.

Brandon's voice crackles out of the player's speaker, and his presence can almost be felt in the room. The effect on the phantom is immediate; he slowly stands up on two legs, his illegible eyes wide open.

"Mission accomplished Don," whispered my brother, his voice barely audible through all the noise as he shook my shoulder playfully, "I told you, you could do it."

Slowly, almost fearfully, the tall phantom approaches Mike, his eyes fixed on the recorder.

I let go of all resistance, letting him pull me in closer. Then; quietly, unexpectedly, truthfully; it slipped out.

"I love you brother." My ears rose and body tensed up when I realized what I said. "Erm, I mean… you, y'know…"

The phantom stops in front of Mike, but ignores his presence completely. All he cares about is the voice coming from the player, stirring up long-forgotten memories in his cloudy mind. He stretches his trembling hand to it, but doesn't grab it; he just wants to be closer to that familiar voice, to feel its warmth like a bonfire on a cold night.

Sean shut up my embarrassed stutter when a tighter hug. "I love you too private," he whispered quietly, "don't you ever forget that."

"Not while I exist brother," I promised, "not while I exist."

Mike eagerly awaits a reaction. The phantom's broken eyes remain fixed on the player for a few seconds, until a pitiful whimper leaves his throat. He then covers his mouth and shuts his eyes, sobbing softly as he sits down on the floor. Slowly, carefully, the man lays the ongoing player in front of the phantom, who buries his face between his folded arm and chest. Sean's shoulders tremble as he weeps bitterly to the lost voice of his only brother.

The man walks to Evelyn's side, who discretely wipes her moist eyes. When she tries to go to the grieving figure, he lays a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"Let's give him some time." whispers Mike, "He hasn't heard his brother's voice in thirty years."

The pair waits patiently for several minutes, until the dark figure's crying begins to ease out gradually. They don't approach him until he's eerily silent, the only sound in the room being Brandon's voice. Sean still has his face covered when Evelyn and Mike walk up to him.

The man slowly kneels in front of him, before whispering: "Sean, can you hear what I'm saying?"

Not lifting his head, the phantom nods a few times.

"Do you know who you are? Why you're here?"

A tired Sean sighs softly. "Yes… I do." Evelyn's surprised to hear his frail voice, a sharp contrast from those fearful growls and snarls. She asks herself: is this really the same person?

"Do you know who I am?"

The phantom finally uncovers his eyes and sees the man's eager face. He needs a moment to remember the name, but then says confidently "You're Michael, or Mike."

Mike's lips form a broad smile of relief and joy, which is soon shared by Sean. "That's right." says the man, "Glad to have you back with us. How do you feel?"

Sean's smile wavers. "I feel… confused. So confused. My head is spinning…" He presses a hand against his forehead, lowering it. He tries to say something, but the words drown in his mouth and he simply sighs.

Mike stands up, groaning from a slight ache in his lower back. "Take it easy, we have time."

Listening intently to his brother's voice, Sean barely acknowledges the woman in the room. He simply throws a quick glance at her, asking with slight mistrust "Who are you?"

"I'm Evelyn, and I'm here to help." she replies friendlily, trying to ease his discomfort.

He nods, turning back to the cassette player. "What's this? Is that really Don's voice? God, I even forgot how it sounded…"

"It is, and it's a long story." Mike says, eyeing the player. "We'll tell you when you feel better. Are Ferny and Sarah here?"

"Yeah, sure. But I haven't seen them in months, or years? I'm not sure…" Sean groans, frustrated. He can't remember the last time he spoke to his friends.

"Hopefully they'll come back when they hear Brandon talking about them."

The phantom shakes his head slowly. "How much longer, Mike? I'm tired of this place, of forgetting what I am till I'm just like an animal."

"Just one more day." promises the man, "We found the red book. Do you remember what that is?"

"More or less." Sean turns to the crate, eyeing it with sorrow. "But I can't rest without Brandon. And now I'll never see him again, will I? He's gone for good."

"Sean, you don't remember what I told you last time I came here, do you?" asks Mike.

The phantom turns back to him. "I can't remember much right now."

Mike can't stop himself from smiling slyly. "Brandon wasn't erased."


It's finally midnight, and Springtrap cautiously flexes his withered fingers. Little by little, his paralyzed joints loosen up, and he slowly pulls up his cold body with a long hiss. The creature stumbles a little, before managing to stand firmly on what remains of his two legs.

The years have not been kind to him. The upper half of his right ear is gone, ending in a sharp stump. His head, like the rest of his body, is riddled with holes and loose wires, product of years of rust without any maintenance. Thanks to his restless walking for six hours every night, the lower legs of the suit are completely missing, revealing the rusty endoskeleton and putrid tendons in all their horrendous glory. The suit's fur, originally a bright golden yellow, has rotted into a slimy, sickly green, thanks in part to the blood that used to cover it. The edges of the suit's mouth have rusted away as well, leaving the creature with an eternal, grotesque smile.

His grey, luminous eyes bring a faint glow to the pitch-black chamber, whose walls are completely covered in vertical scratches. Springtrap doesn't need to count them; he already knows that there are exactly 10.944 of them, each one representing one night of imprisonment. He shuffles himself to a near wall, and carves another line.

He begins his usual routine of aimless walking; there isn't a lot more to do. He has thought about everything, relived every memory, considered every action that lead him to this horrible state. For many people, years of self-reflection and solitude were the cure for the demons that infested their minds.

But in this creature's case, they only grew stronger and darker.

Suddenly, a distant noise steals his attention. He stops walking and nears the wall blocking him from the hallway. At first he wasn't sure, but judging from the sound of footsteps nearing him, it's clear that there is someone in the building.

He begins to scratch at the wall with one hand and hit it with the other, hoping against hope that someone might rescue him. Paying attention to the footsteps' pattern, Springtrap believes that there are two people in the building: a correct guess. The footsteps grow louder, stop suddenly, then distance themselves from him quickly. He curses in frustration and waits for long minutes, listening intently for any other sign of life. His patience is eventually rewarded with a loud, hollow bang; the sound of something flat and heavy hitting the floor.

"What was that?!" A male voice demands loudly

"I'm alright!" yells back a feminine voice. "The, uh, lid just fell off! But it's all fine!"

Around two minutes later, a sharp screech resonates into the room. Excitement courses through the killer's cold body. Whatever that was, it meant bad news for someone. Soon after that, another bestial screech fills the building, and he recognizes it as one of the phantoms.

He is now hoping for another ghostly screech or human scream, but he can't hear anything else. More footsteps pass his room sporadically throughout the night, and after a few hours, Springtrap feels his body tensing up again. His time has come and gone; it's 6 AM.

Sighing in reluctant submission, he leans against a far corner, pondering on the noises he heard. Why did the male sound so familiar? Who was the woman? And why didn't they leave immediately after being attacked by a phantom?

He knows that he can't answer those questions, but they still entertain his twisted mind. Many hours later, numerous footsteps travel through the building. Springtrap has grown used to them; he's known for months that the building is being remodeled, but has given up on being found by the workers.

That is, until he feels the room vibrate with the blow of a sledgehammer.

After many similar hits, the wall in front of him begins to crack and cave in. Springtrap's paralyzed body is burning with eagerness to be free. The cracks grow deeper with the next blow. Another strike, and some plaster on his side slides off the wall. Then, with a last triumphant effort, the head of a sledgehammer penetrates the creature's chamber. The resulting hole has the size of a basketball, and dirty green light soon seeps into the room to illuminate its hideous captive.

Mark's head appears on the other side of the opening, and his eyes widen with wonder when he sees the rotting springlock suit. "Dude… we found one."