AN: Hey y'all! This is the end! An end to end all ends, to tie up loose ends, to finally get from the Overworld to The End! To reach the goal. End Definition: 1) the farthest point or edge of anything 2) completion, finish 3) the aim, reason, design, verb, 4) to finish
The end of this world, for this is the true, true fate of this world. The end of something that is long due to expire. The untimely death- Oh wait! That reminds me! I'm moving to Connecticut, and if I don't update this account, then check out the new account I'd have made. It will be called Sadfox_II, and yeah. I will continue any story that I haven't finished on that account. I will move at the end of the school year, which is rapidly approaching. (Six weeks left! Oh woe.) So sorry about my untimely death. For now. And I shall post a new fanfic after this, called: 'Misadventures of a Time Traveling Pharoah' On the Egyptian Mythology Category, on the misc category. So be on the lookout for that.
ONTO THE CHAPTER!
Foxy had left as soon as TC was out of sight. He headed toward the police station, and since TC's house was very far from it, he got there around the time TC had gotten home. As soon as they saw him, they rushed him to talk with Chief Funtime.
After a barrage of questions, they gathered up around three squad cars and 6 officers, Detective Springtrap among them, In squad car 013. With Officer Flornce. They had discussed this for roughly an hour, then rushed Foxy home, and the officers to the Chica household. His Mother and Mangle had been overjoyed to see him, and barraged him with a series of hugs and questions. He told them everything, and stumbled upstairs and slept comfortably for the first time in days.
He had no idea what would happen as he slept on, oblivious and blissful.
(X)
Springtrap was too damn tired for this. Sure, he's happy for the Fox kid, but he hasn't slept soundly since he had that argument with his wife. He should be happily sleeping the past week of work off in bed, not in a squad car sitting next to what-his-name while he chows down on half a bakery. That's not what he should be doing. But, when life gives you lemons, you don't make lemon fanfics. Or something like that. He's a little loopy after working for a whole week with about two hours of sleep to show for it. And a lot of coffee. A lot. Boatloads.
They finally arrive at the Chica residence, and do the norm: Park in a half circle around the front yard, kneel behind the cars, guns raised, or crouch, if that's how you roll. And yell "STEP OUT OF THE HOUSE, ARMS OVER YOUR HEAD!" Into a megaphone. Too bad he had to do it.
The house was eerily silent. Nothing happened. So he, The Muffin Man, and 2 more officers went in to sort odds and ends. They all went to the basement, since that's where Fox kid said TC kept him. At least he remembered one name. Suddenly, TC jumps them from around the corner and stabs the guy with the bunny ears in the chest.(Sorry, Toy Bonnie)
Muffin Man pulls out his gun, and shoots Springtrap in the arm. The pain brings Springtrap back, yanking him out of his coffee high. Everything comes into a much sharper focus. The officer with some biker gloves grabs his arm and pulls him away.
They hide out near the end of the whole thing, Gloves and he. Gloves is rambling about how they have no chance at getting out of here, and that Flornce, who he assumes is Muffin Man, betrayed them and yada yada yada.
Springtrap finally decided to speak. "If you want to get out of here alive, then shut up and think about how to escape." Noth the nicest words, but a little pain never hurt anybody. Actually, it did, but not that much. And it was vocal pain. So deal with it.
It suddenly came to him. The Laundry Shoot! Foxy had said something about that, and how weird it was that the shoot ended in the basement.
He grabbed Gloves arm, and said; "Lets go. I found a way."
They hurry past blocks of stone and slabs of concrete. They hear footsteps around them once, and duck into an alcove. The alcove looked familiar, and low and behold, Ear's body. He was still moving, weezing, and Springtrap guessed she punctured a lung.
They both hurried up to him, and Gloves got out a med kit. Damn, thinking fast. He brought out a small scalpel and some anesthetic, and cut him open. He stitched the lung and the skin back together. Springtrap had newfound respect for Gloves now. Gloves propped Ears against Springtrap, and they were off.
They finally found the shoot after what was probably five or so minutes, but felt like an hour to Springtrap. They put Ears into the shoot first, and he crawled his way up, digging the two scalpels from the med kit into the metal shoot. When he finished, he sent the scalpels down.
Gloves was next, and he did the same. He sent them down.
Lastly, was Springtrap. He readied himself. He hated small spaces, and it would take quite a lot of willpower to bring himself to crawl through it. He went ahead, bringing his fears and his half-coffee high with him.
The space was more horrible than he imagined it would be. It was just barely the size of him, and full of scalpel holes and dust. He dug his first scalpel in, as far as it could go, and pulled with all his might. His body lurched up to meet the arm. He repeated this with the second. It went on and on, seemingly years, when it was only 2 minutes.
He reached the top, choking on the dust that was in there. Gloves pulled him up the rest of the way, and they went out. A commotion was beginning outside. And when they stepped out, The commotion bubble had burst. They saw Springtraps squad car peeling out, a flash of obnoxious blond hair in the passenger's seat, and ran to Gloves' car.
Springtrap drove, since Ears was hurt and Gloves was tending to him. He backed out erratically, almost hitting another squad car, and drove away. He sped toward the other car, lights flashing, sirens sounding, and saw in the mirror that the other 3 cars were on his tail, catching up. Civilian cars scrambled to stay out of their way.
Then it happened. They were on Kings Cross, a good 12 miles away from the street where TC's house was, Treestone Drive, and an Amazon delivery van lurched around a blind corner, right in front of 013.
013 hit it head-on, and it smashed directly into the side, right where the fuel tank was. In a few seconds, it would ignite.
Springtrap was barreling right toward it. He had no time to back away. He couldn't use the back of the car to hit it, either. Then Ears and Gloves would die. He had to face it head-on.
The explosion happened, and it blew 2 police cars (Including Springtraps) back. Springtraps was the less lucky one, and it turned end over end. It flipped to one of the cars that had stopped, smashed into its tailgate, and skidded to the side slightly. Then all was calm, except for the raging fires. Springtrap was half-conscious, and in overwhelming pain. He could barely see straight. Gloves was screaming, telling Springtrap to wake up, and Ears was reaching over the backseat, and feeling his pulse.
He managed a cough, and opened his eyes. The windshield was cracked, and a punch could probably break it.
"It's fine. I- Urgh. I'm fine. Are you and Ears ok?" He asked.
Ears started laughing. "You're kidding me. That's what you've been calling me? In spite of this situation, you've lightened things up. I pray to god that you don't die." Ears laughed so hard he choked. Gloves patted his back, and chuckled.
"We should get out of this car, shouldn't we? There are things to take care of." Gloves grabbed the passenger door. He pushed it, but it was too dented in to budge. He muttered a few curses under his breath.
"I'll try the Driver door," Springtrap pushed it. Also dented.
Everyone looked at the windshield. They looked at each other. Then the windshield again.
"Oh, fuck it. Let's do it." Gloves said.
Springtrap punched the windshield, which shattered upon impact. Everyone unbuckled their seatbelts, and wriggled through the windshield. A hand helped them up, and in the harsh light of the headlights, he could see it was a female cop with combat boots.
"Are you lo' okay? Tha' was quite a huge crash." Oh yeah. The woman from Britain. This is gonna be interesting.
"Yeah, we're fine. Bonnie here has a punctured lung, and the stitching likely broke when that wreck happened. He needs to see an actual doctor, not the makeshift things I could do with this medkit." He held the said item up. "Otherwise, Detective here had gotten pretty banged up. And I got hit in the head by the medkit. Otherwise, we're fine. How are you?"
The Britain was slightly shocked by the onslaught of words, but she nodded. "I'm okay, though your car smashed into my car's tailgate." She nodded to her car, which was a few feet away, and had a smashed in trunk. The backseat was only slightly smashed, by what they could see from their perspective.
Everyone turned their heads to where the main crash scene took place.
013 was smashed, it's front end nearly completely caved in. The engine was a yard away, right next to that one odd civilian who was standing there in complete shock at what had occurred there. Officers were already heading toward them.
The van was in even worse shape. Half of it had been blown to the great beyond, and the other half had embedded itself into a Mcdonalds sign. The driver was dead, parts littering everywhere. Springtrap almost gagged seeing the head in a field of shattered glass that used to be a department store display window.
Then, from the wrecked remains of 013, a passenger seat flies open.
TC tumbles out, in all her obnoxiously blond glory, and is met with 4 gun barrels facing her, attached to the hands of three officers: British, Ears, Gloves, and Detective Springtrap, Private Eye.
AN: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY! ITS FUCKING DONE! The saga is over! But wait! This is not the true end. For, this is only a placeholder. HAHAHAHAHA! The real end is the Epilogue. That is where everything is resolved and all questions answered. Except one. What was the weird static-y feeling? Me here grinning at what I wanted to turn this into. Comment Answering Time!:
LittleGhostCat: I didn't know you were vegetarian. Thats cool. And thanks about the comment about how black is a good murdering color. Too bad she didn't murder anyone. But that's also good. Mangle is veeeeeery important in the next fanfic of this series. Or duology, if you will. Maybe soon it will be a trilogy! Anyway, thanks. Writer's block happens to me a LOT. Thanks, I try!
stephtaff08: Well, I was emotionally and physically tired, so I couldn't tell what was too much. Sorry If it bothered you.
That's all the comments, so, dramatic outro again, anyone?
As Always...
...Stay Salty Y'all.