Alright, I know that I don't do this usually. But I feel like I owe you guys a warning.

This gets bloody. Like, REALLY bloody. And horrible. It's been a scene I've been waiting for since the start of this story and I think I've done what I set out to do.

So, with this in mind, if you're squeamish, I'd highly recommend giving this chapter a pass. I'm not even entirely sure I'll ever write something like this one again, so yeah.

Just a heads-up.

So, tl:dr

*BLOOD AND GORE WARNING*

Also, this almost made me think about putting the whole story up to M Rated, but I think I managed to keep it just below that.

With that out of the way:

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

The screams woke Detective Caine up.

For some time, he found his bearings. He was upright, pinned against a wall in the back corner of what he quickly surmised was the backstage room. Dark even during the day with no windows. Shelves lined the wall, empty heads, and broken parts.

A fitting murder room as any.

Shining silver in his one good eye was the animatronic called Foxy, glaring with an unyielding lust for blood. His eye rolled back in his head, yet still seeing. His claw was pressed too close to Caine's neck, the sharp tip threatening to cut through the detective's jugular.

Even had his gun still been in the holster—all Caine could guess was that it fell out during the attack by Freddy—he knew it wouldn't have been possible to use it without that hook slashing his neck.

Across from him were the foreboding figures of Chica and Bonnie, each holding a person in a similar manner to Foxy. While Carl looked grim, he also was undeniably angry as Chica pinned him to the wall, whilst one Caine recognized as the day guard was a blubbering mess.

How? Caine thought, urgently looking for an escape plan, How are they moving? It wasn't even reaching dusk. Somehow, someway, the animatronics had broken out of the strict set of rules that had stopped things like this from happening.

Then the thought occurred to him. Where was Freddy?

That was when it hit him. In his waking, confused mind, he hadn't even begun to think about the screams that had woken him.

Past Foxy, in the corner of the room, Freddy stood there. Unmoving, more robotic-like than Caine had believed him to be upon their first meeting. Facing away from them, Freddy seemed unconcerned. Focused.

In front of him, almost obscured from view, a leg was kicking wildly. Arms, restrained by Freddy's own massive hands, were shaking erratically.

Then, dripping on the floor was a dark substance. Dripping from the wire-framed open magenta suit. On the table next to Freddy was the empty duplicate head that matched Bonnie.

Freddy pushed, almost intrigued by the outcome. More blood spurted out of the writhing thing in front of him. Fabric was torn as it was pushed further in, until a hideous squelch that pierced Caine's ears pronounced Freddy's success.

The janitor's screams had become unintelligible by then. What had he been uttering during those moments where Caine was unconscious? Pleads? Attempts of reason? Denials? Or had he been so confused, so horrified, that he had merely been making those unintelligible words from the start?

The janitor gave another guttural screech as Freddy finished pushing him.

Shaking his head ever-so-slowly, Caine tried to deny what he was seeing. But there was no point in doing so. He'd seen it so many times before, but it never got easier.

He was seeing the horrific, violent end of a human being.

His screams becoming gargled with blood, the janitor's eyes were wide. Open in shock. Face scrunched up in a hideous amount of pain.

Without even a moment of hesitation, but with a sickening amount of something Caine could only describe as glee, Freddy pressed his paws on the opened arm of the suit. He grabbed the matching arm of the janitor and placed it within.

A sickening crunch sent Caine pale. Another piercing scream. Closing his eyes in rage, in horror, Caine knew he couldn't witness the rest of this.

For the next few moments, Freddy took his time. Each limb was placed into the suit and each crushed like the last one. Eventually, the janitor's screams turned faint, almost whimper-like. After a few more weak pleas, his shrilled voice turned silent.

Opening his eyes, Caine stared hard at the horror that lay in front of him.

Looking over his work with a pleasure Caine had only seen from the sickest of criminals, Freddy picked up the empty Bonnie mask next to him and delicately placed it on top of the suit. Looking away, not wanting to see what was going to happen, Caine saw Carl closing his eyes.

The day guard couldn't. Didn't. He watched in horror, through tear-soaked eyes, as Freddy finished the job.

Even without the image in his head, the sound was enough to make Caine's blood chill. Forcefully, with that monstrous, impossible strength, Freddy slammed the empty head down.

With that last, sickening crunch, Caine knew it was over.

As Freddy stepped away, the full display of his work was visible. Leaking more subtly than before, the blood stained the tiled floor.

In the holes of the suit's head, however much he wanted to deny it as a trick of the light, Caine knew he was seeing what little remained of the janitor.

A pale reflection of himself, Carl didn't take his eyes off the suit. Knowing his friend too well to find him terrified, the simplest feeling that the young hacker felt was mortification. Not knowing whether he'd seen someone die before, Caine closed his eyes as he briefly remembered the first time he'd seen it.

The sound of wailing made Caine snap his eyes open. The day guard, shaking in fear as Bonnie's grip on his neck tightened, was shaking his head over and over again.

Although Caine knew he couldn't blame the teenager for reacting so, his mind as usual turned to the practical side. Making yourself as big of a noticeable thing in this kind of situation was basically signing your death warrant.

But even Caine, as hardened as he believed himself to be, who had seen such horrors and mind-numbing atrocities as he'd encountered, felt sick to his stomach.

Pondering on how old the janitor had been, Caine wondered what his life outside of Freddy's had been like. What he himself had experienced.

All of it, wasted and thrown out.

All it took was one bad day.

Not even sparing the panicking day guard a glance, Freddy grabbed the arms of the empty suit with both hands and hoisted up from the repair station. Dragging it across the ground, spilling more crimson stains, the animatronic bear placed it sitting down on the table, facing away from Caine.

Then, without even a single ounce of pity, he pointed at the day guard.

"No!" The young man screamed, pulling against the iron grip of the animatronic, eyes bulging and tears spilling, "Oh God, please, no!"

With a surprising amount of coordination, Bonnie threw the day guard in the direction of Freddy. Unable to halt the momentum, the day guard stumbled into the unwelcoming embrace of his killer.

"Let me go!" He screamed, desperately trying to pull away as Freddy dragged him towards the repair station. A suit in the shape of Freddy himself stood waiting, empty and ominous.

As the bear prepared for his second kill, the day guard continued to plead. To weep. To cry. To beg for pity, for mercy.

But, as Caine bitterly reflected, it was a fool's game. Because the animatronics simply had none.

Though the fact remained; it was up to Caine what would happen in these closing moments. His mentor had once said that when it came to making a decision, you had to make it knowing the consequences. To accept them. Not to make one and regret it later.

Glancing towards Carl, whose own face was grim and regretful, Caine knew what it meant. There was something that could be done to save them both, but by that look of tension, it could only mean that it wasn't ready.

"Please don't kill me!" The day guard screamed,

Gritting his teeth, Caine closed his eyes. He knew what the right decision was; the right decision was the practical one. Not getting involved, surviving long enough for Carl to strike, and then escaping. It would mean the death of the day guard, but was it worth risking his own life to save that of a stranger?

He knew what his employers would say, especially that of Donovan. Even Sanders. "The life of an agent greatly outweighs that of a civilian."

Once, Donovan had even compared that saying to the Lion and the Sheep. So early on in Caine's career, back when he was still in training.

Even if Caine had disagreed, it wouldn't matter. Those had always been the values of the Crucible.

Wouldn't it be a better outcome for some nobody to end up dead, than an agent of whom years were put in to train? Who had quickly risen up to the ranks that Caine had managed?

He knew he wasn't well-liked by his co-workers. Knew that they believed him to be arrogant. Privileged. To have been given an elevator whilst everyone else had to build their own ladders.

Even those people would prefer this day guard to die over Caine.

Besides, Caine thought, Samantha probably wouldn't be happy about me getting myself killed over nothing.

Though his mind had started out that thought with a touch of wry sarcasm, it quickly made him sad. If something happened to him…

The right decision was obvious. For him. For the Crucible. For Samantha.

"I don't want to die!"

Opening his eyes slowly, Caine bitterly sighed.

"Hey!" He growled out at the animatronics. Freddy didn't so much as twitch at the outburst.

"I'm talking to you!" His eyes narrowed, "And you specifically. Wherever you are."

That made Freddy halt. Slowly, with the hopeful glance of the day guard shooting past him, Freddy turned to face Caine, silver eyes and all.

"I know who you are," Caine pressed on, "I know what you are. Using these stupid things as puppets to play your game?"

He knew the hit landed when ever-so-menacingly, the animatronics all looked at him simultaneously.

"That's right," Caine smirked, "The simplest fact is, I'm the biggest threat in this room. The guy you got there? He's nothing."

Digging his hook deeper into Caine's skin so much that it likely drew blood, Caine didn't take that confident smirk off his face.

"Leaving me for last," He continued, "is a very big mistake on your part."

For what seemed like an eternity, the animatronics stared blankly at him. Watching him. Inspecting him. Then, with such frightening precision, Freddy nodded to Foxy. Within seconds, Foxy marched Caine towards the bear.

As the two animatronics exchanged hostages, Caine looked at Carl. The hacker had a look of desperate horror on his face. It quickly turned grim and all Caine could do was shoot him a glance that said:

Please hurry.

The fact was simple. It now all relied on three things. Caine's resilience to blood loss keeping him alive for as long as possible, as well as Carl's plan working.

Of course, it also relied on one random variable: Freddy being angry enough and sadistic enough to go as slowly as possible.

If these three things faltered even slightly, Caine was going to die.

Gripping his arms with both hands, Freddy backed Caine up against the wireframe of the suit. The few glances that Caine had gotten on the inside of the suit didn't help his chances. It was obvious that the suit wasn't designed to have a human—skin, bones, and all—fitting in. Sharp parts and electronics were layered inside.

Then, very slowly all the while maintaining eye contact, Freddy started to push.

Immediately, Caine felt a sharp sting that almost made him gasp. It felt like a punch at first, but that warm, wet feeling told him otherwise. Quickly, his back started to feel similar stings. His shoulders were next, along with his neck and parts of his lower body.

He was thankful he didn't have to look down. Even with the foreboding possibility of death here, all Caine could think about at first was how thankful he was of his spare suits back home.

As Caine defiantly glared into the abyss of Freddy's own eyes, he couldn't help but notice how reserved the animatronics was being. In reality, it would only take a quick push from the titan of technology and it would be over in moments.

It would seem that Caine's words had angered the animatronics more than he thought.

It was a good thing, in essence. A more reserved killer would take their time. 'Playing with their food', you could say. That meant that it would take longer for Caine to pass the point of no return. Overall, it at least meant that Carl would have a longer window to get his plan together.

Of course, as Caine thought in bemusement as another shove sent waves of pain through his whole body, if things didn't go his way, he was in for one slow, horrible curtains down.

Giving a low growl as more pain swept through his body, slicing parts of his lower body, he gave another look of—

—horror as he stared down from the balcony. He'd heard three gunshots from his room and as far as his little legs could take him, he rushed to the landing.

On the floor of the main entrance were three bodies. One flat on the floor, clutching her belly where the bullet had entered. Another lay near her, awake and angry. A third, smaller than even him, was sprawled near the kitchen, a bullet in his head—

Gasping as he woke up, Caine tried to find the anger. The rage, that had boiled over him so many times before. That had kept him alive in the worst predicaments.

Hoping that he wouldn't have to see the horror of his past again, he felt blood dripping down his head and—

—his eye, where the man had cut him with that damn switchblade. Sticking to the shadows, the boy knew he needed to get back to his safehouse quickly. The last thing he needed was to lose his sight.

But as he entered the small, desolate apartment that his gang had used so many times before using the fire escape nearby, he spotted her.

A girl. No older than he was.

Scowling, he quietly entered. Her back was turned to him, as she inspected the meagre belongings scattered throughout the room.

Stepping over to the wall near the bed, the boy pulled out the chest containing the bow and arrows within and quickly drew an arrow pointed at her.

As he did so, she spun around, crossbow in hand. It was a small thing, something you'd get from a supplier not expecting it to actually be used. From what he could tell, it was modified.

The moment he saw her eyes, he knew she wouldn't shoot him. He could see the lack of killer instinct there. Something he'd seen, so many times.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" He snarled at her,

Shrugging, she gave a wry smile, "A concerned citizen. Heard you have a problem with authority?"

He remembered her from that very same day. "You were with that copper. The one that went after me."

"Yep."

Gritting his teeth, he pondered on whether he should just shoot her now and—

—he was glad he didn't.

Cursing softly to himself, Caine closed his eyes, trying to keep both the memories and the urge to scream at bay, but both were difficult. Time and time again, those waves of pain would sear into him.

Getting further irritated by those damn flashes, Caine suddenly came across the ominous, unlikable idea that he was actually dying.

He denied it. He fought against it. Considered it to be a waste of time. After all he had gone through, the many irons in his grill, the things he'd accomplished…

…the things he had yet to accomplish.

No, he tried in vain to keep the panic at bay, that isn't right. This isn't fair.

He still had things he needed to do. People to find. Revenge to enact. Until the day he found—

—Dutch Lawson stood there across from him. The warehouse was empty, aside from the two of them and the two people behind him.

Looking at him, more annoyed than angry, Lawson pulled the arrow out of his arm. "I gotta stop hiring these spanners that can't get the job done."

The boy stood there, arrow in hand.

"So, lad," Lawson scowled at him with those amber eyes, "You here to kill me?"

"Abigail," The boy said lowly, almost monotone, "Harrison. James. Tyler."

Rolling his eyes as he lifted his arm, Dutch seemed exhausted, "This old bollocks…"

Before Lawson could hold up the gun, the boy quickly drew his bow and shot him in the arm again. Grunting in pain, the man tried to dodge the lunge, but he wasn't fast enough.

Throwing punch after punch, bow hit after bow hit, the boy continued to say, "Abigail!"

A kidney punch made Dutch stumble, "Harrison!"

Before Lawson could throw his next punch, the boy took out one of his arrows, "James!"

After sticking that arrow straight through Dutch's collarbone, he kicked him down to the floor, "Tyler!"

Climbing over Dutch as he lay on the ground, the boy didn't realize that his voice had risen to a scream, almost a sob.

"Abigail! Harrison! James! Tyler!"

By the time he was done, Dutch's face was a bloody mess. As the man spat out a tooth, his crimson, broken face turned into a bitter laugh.

Angry tears running down his face, the boy spotted the gun that had fallen from Dutch's grasp.

He picked up the gun and rested the barrel on Dutch's head.

It took a moment for Caine to realize he was screaming. He'd been fully pushed back into the suit and he could feel his whole body becoming numb.

As he looked up, another scream racking him, he saw Freddy close the arm of the suit, crushing Caine's own.

Then, as those demonic silver eyes continued to pierce his soul, Caine felt himself becoming lighter.

He almost didn't notice Freddy moving to the leg and when the bear closed that as well, he didn't feel anything. All he felt was light. Almost as light as—

—when he sat on that hill, watching her adjust her hair. As he continued to watch her, she must've felt his eyes burning into her back.

Slowly, with those emerald-green eyes and those freckled cheeks, she smiled at him.

"I'm so sorry, Sam." He said as he faded away.

Well, then. That was difficult to write. Hopefully, it's as difficult to read.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: I should've made a point in the last chapter to establish a point in time, so that's on me. It's during the day that everything with Caine happened. And yeah, I highly doubt that Mike and the animatronics are going to get away with all of this so easily.

vaetta: But wait; it gets worse!

Guess what? Only one more chapter in this story arc, then only the epilogue to go. As for after that, well... we'll cross that bridge when we get there.