Allan was hating life at the moment, but it wasn't hard to see why. He was closing Freddy's, this time for good. He had had enough of the police and enough of the sobbing parents, and he didn't know how to handle it anymore. He was never good at consoling anyone, let alone strangers, and it was even harder considering it was his restaurant that everything had happened at. Again.

In all fairness, he was grateful that he was the one that stumbled upon that grisly scene...he could only imagine the sort of uproar that would have happened had it been a parent or one of his young employees. But he certainly wasn't grateful for all those cursed images running on replay in his head. So much blood...

There was little doubt in his mind that he was not intended to be a Fazbear Entertainment franchisee. Second incident in less than a year, and this one had him pinned in more ways than one. Now a suspect in this murder case, he was spending a lot more time with cops than he'd like. They found it incredibly interesting that no security cameras were on when the usually were, and now the animatronics were acting funny and not even Dave knew what was wrong with them.

Just great.

Not to mention he had to let all of his employees go. Even the good ones. Everything was going to blue blazes here.

Allan sighed, thumping his head on his desk in frustration. Everything was to be shut down in a little less than two weeks...that should give everyone enough time to come get their crap and get out so he could close for good. But until then, there was only one more party scheduled and there were some things to be moved out-nothing too drastic.

The man signed some of the remaining severance documents laying on his desk, feeling sleep tugging at his eyes. He didn't have the energy for this...what he needed was a good stiff drink and a permanent vacation...maybe he'd just do that. Out of Utah. Florida could be nice...

Anywhere away from here. Freddy's was going down a heck-hole he wasn't willing to follow anymore.

Papers lay scattered on Dana's kitchen table, most mail, others backup resumes and job offers. Her severance package was on the far end of the surface (not that it was a very good one), away from the rest of the mess. Dana herself was sitting at her counter, holding an undrunk glass of water.

She was taking this situation hard, but not as hard as Henry obviously was. They both felt the guilt of the murders terribly, but Henry seemed to think he was somehow at fault, no matter what she said to convince him otherwise. Not like he held the knife that took their lives.

The woman exhaled shallowly, feeling exhausted on all fronts. She hadn't felt this worn out since moving out of her dad's place, and that was saying something. The couple who's basement she lived in was aware of the situation and thankfully was knocking off a lot of the cost for this month's rent, but it wasn't really easing her nerves.

Dana sighed, eyes closing. She was perfectly ready to doze off right here, right now...

Until a light tap came at the window.

The woman sat up suddenly, water sloshing from the glass as she turned around. Despite the drawn curtains, there was only one person who ever knocked like that.

Dana stood, hurrying to the window, pulling the drapery out of the way. The darkness mostly concealed her visitor, but two faint white lights could be seen just on the other side. The woman unlocked the window door, easing the panes open for Charlie to slip in.

"Hi," Dana said quietly, minding the elderly couple upstairs as she pulled the curtains closed while the puppet hovered in the space dividing the kitchen and living room.

Charlie didn't reply, simply gazing at the newspaper on the dining table that had Richfield's biggest story of the week displayed in huge letters. More than likely, it'd become Richfield's biggest story for the next few years, especially since people were drawing connections between the murders and disappearances from the months prior.

Dana came up to stand next to the girl, eyes turning to the paper. "I'm sorry..." she said softly, sensing the pain Charlie was feeling. The puppet didn't reply, instead revealing revealing a set of tapes in its clawed hands.

"Are these for me?" Dana questioned, an eyebrow raised. Charlie extended her hands further, depositing them gently into the woman's arms. "I don't understand..." she continued, gaze turning to the objects in her possession, noticing the Fazbear Entertainment logo printed on each tape's label.

"Answers," Charlie whispered hoarsely.

Dana looked back up, even more confused than before. "What kind of answers?" She asked. "You'll see," the girl replied. "You may show my father. The other pieces are at the old Freddy's...I could not bring them all."

The woman nodded, still not understanding as she gazed down at the objects in her arms. "But when you know the truth, understand you are not to interfere. I will acquire my vengeance for myself and the others," Charlie continued.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dana questioned, concerned as the puppet made its way back to the window.

"All will become clear," Charlie remarked softly, easing back into the cold night. "Just wait."

Before Dana had the chance to ask any further questions, the girl was gone, disappearing into the darkness. The woman huffed, slightly annoyed and confused as she reached to close the window.

"I hate it when she does that," she grumbled, looking down at the tapes still in her hands. She didn't move, gazing at the objects she now recognized to be security tapes. The woman's eyes narrowed as she moved to the kitchen phone.

...

...

"Hello?"

"Henry, she came," Dana said, skipping pleasantries as she sat on the edge of the countertop, her fingers twisting with the end of her tank top.

"...Charlie?" Henry questioned seriously. "Yeah." The woman replied. "She gave me some security tapes from Freddy's and told me they had answers. Apparently, we aren't supposed to 'interfere' when we figure it out," Dana continued, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

"What does that mean?" The man asked, obviously confused.

"I have no idea. Your daughter's really cryptic, in case you didn't know." Dana grumbled. "She always had a flair for dramatics," Henry replied. "Have you seen the tapes, yet?"

"No. She just came and I wanted to wait to watch them with you," the woman answered.

"I appreciate that, thank you. I'll come tomorrow evening," the man said, voice dimming somewhat as the sound of pencil upon paper came through from his end.

"Alright. I think that's it, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Dana continued. "Yes. Thank you so much, Dana. Goodnight," Henry spoke.

"Night."

CLICK

Michael put the remaining dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, closing its lid before drying his wet hands with one of the kitchen towels. The morning had been largely quiet aside from the occasional airplane flying outside, and he was grateful for it. Quiet was nice.

The boy checked the clock, noting that he had about five hours until his father came back from his meetings. He had been to a lot of those lately...

The most recent one he was gone for took nearly all day, and when he came back, he was awfully quiet. Barely spoke a word to Michael. It was weird and was putting the teen on edge. He guessed it was just because of... recent events, but even still, he needed a parent right now and William just wasn't giving it to him like he needed. It felt distant.

Michael couldn't help but wonder if he was doing something wrong.

The boy finished tidying the kitchen, picking up some of the mail from the counter to take to his dad's office. As he walked down the carpeted hallway, the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock played lightly, relaxing him somewhat as he pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The office wasn't nearly as organized as it usually was, old bills and documents scattered on the desk, waste-bin overflowing with crumpled paper. Michael gingerly stepped into the room, making a point to complete his task quickly. He strode across the red carpet, hurriedly setting the mail on the desk before turning to walk back out.

But something caught his eye.

Michael looked closer at the funtime animatronic blueprints tacked to the wall. It seemed that one of the pins holding the Ballora map to its surface had become unfastened, and in the process, its corner had folded over, revealing another print behind it.

The boy reached forward, gently prying the first paper away. Behind it lay another blueprint, almost identical to the first, though this one had fewer surface lines, showing the robot's endoskeleton.

Michael peered closer, eyes narrowing as he tried to identify what he was looking at. His fingers graced the paper, tracing the various lines on the map. He could recognize a lot of the core mechanics and their functions, but when he came to its torso, he found something he'd never seen before.

There was a large chest cavity in the lower stomach, entirely intentional given the adjustments the surrounding wires and springs had to make to accommodate it. Springlocks were littered around the space, and in the back of the hole was a bunched claw.

Michael's eyes followed the springs around it, searching for its trigger and purpose. Lines illustrated key points and mechanics, each pointing to the other parts it worked with. The boy's eyes continued to search until they fell upon a written note in his father's hand.

In cursive, it was difficult to read, but it was now apparent that the claw was made to extend. Extend out of the torso... and the surrounding plates would move to allow its motions. Michael felt a sickening sensation fill him as he realized this. Why would there need to be such a feature?

His mind suddenly reeled back to that awful day.

Elizabeth had been covered, drenched in her own blood. But what had Baby been doing? Her torso plates were open... no claw of any sort had been seen, but the cavity inside was certainly large enough to cage a small child... to cage his sister.

Michael stumbled backwards, hand flying to his mouth as he felt the color drain from his face. He felt sick-Elizabeth's death hadn't been due to some insane malfunction, this was intentional-in some way or another.

The boy fell into the filing cabinet behind him, his impact rattling its metal drawers as he clutched onto it, shaking. He was dizzy, knees suddenly weak as his mind reeled. He stared at the blueprints with widened eyes, all thought rejecting this realization. His father wouldn't-he'd never-

This couldn't be true-his father loved Elizabeth with all his heart, he'd been so distraught, so catatonic since her death. But maybe her death really was an accident-maybe these designs were valid but not meant for her.

Michael's breathing shallowed as he stared at the papers on the wall, unable to tear his gaze from it. He didn't understand, everything he knew about his father was beginning to shatter, but there was one thing he knew.

He wasn't safe.

He had to get out of here.