Override activated.
Auto update date and time: 11/13/1993 06:17:29am.
Opening files…
03/06/1970 11:41:02pm
"Good morning, little one."
Voice detected.
Engage sound_location.
From above, it heard a knocking sound. It perked, and looked for the source of the sound. Thinking for a moment, it reached up and tapped against the top of the lid. A soft giggle broke through, followed by another knock.
"Aren't you going to come out?"
Engage personality_test.
It pondered a moment, then reached to lift up the lid, peeking out of the darkness just enough to see.
A young woman's face came into its camera view. It saw her smile first, dark red lips with bits of color breaking away to show flecks of pink underneath, then the soft, golden color of her skin that held a darker undertone. Glancing up a bit more, it took in focused green eyes, and long, straight black hair smoothed back with a red headband.
"Hello, little one," she said.
It quickly ducked back into its box. It heard the scratch of a pencil against paper, and then another knock. Once more, it lifted up the lid flap, and once more, it saw the woman. She sat at a work table. All around her, it saw shelves with boxes and parts. On the work table were papers, a notebook, a strange green bottle, and a glass with a dark red liquid in it.
"Why do you hide?" the woman asked. "Are you shy?"
The camera view moved up and down as it nodded its head. The woman made another notation on her paper, before she turned back to it.
"Don't worry," she said, softly. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm your friend. Your mother, in a way."
The woman pointed to herself.
"You can call me Miss Bonnie, little one," she continued, then pointed to it. "Your name is Puppet. Do you understand?"
Engage watch_learn.
Engage artificial_intelligence.
More up and down movement to acknowledge.
"Do you know what your purpose is, Puppet?"
Another nod, before it slipped back into its box. It turned on its night vision to look for something, and upon finding it, resurfaced back to the top. It opened the lid again, holding it up with one hand. It stayed back in the shadows, extending only its arm out as it presented Miss Bonnie with the object: a smaller box, wrapped in colored purple paper with a red ribbon.
"Thank you," Miss Bonnie said, taking it. "But this isn't for me."
She gently undid the ribbon, then carefully tore at the paper. It watched as she pulled off the lid of a white box underneath, then lifted out pieces of tissue paper until she uncovered what was inside. Miss Bonnie pulled out a white object, and held it near the box for Puppet to see: a mask with red cheeks, and purple lines smoothly dripping from its eyes to the top of the smile. Little hints of red dotted the lips.
"Do you like it?" she asked.
A nod.
"Why don't you come out, then, so I can put it on?"
It ducked down into the box, but this time, Puppet left it open a sliver. Miss Bonnie waited patiently. After a moment, Puppet carefully pushed the lid all the way up, until it hung over the side of the box. It held onto the edge, leaning forward towards Miss Bonnie.
True to her word, Miss Bonnie turned the mask around, showing little hooks on the inside to secure it in place. Puppet held still as she carefully pushed it on, making sure every piece clicked properly and securely.
"There," she said, once she had it in place. "You're complete."
She smiled a little wider, then held up a mirror for it to see its own reflection.
The white face smiled back, with faint blue LEDs glowing from deep within it eyes. Puppet reached for the mirror. Miss Bonnie carefully helped it grip the handle so it could gaze properly. Puppet tapped at the glass, then at its own face, before it handed the mirror back to Miss Bonnie.
"It's only fair that the gift-giver receives the first gift," she said, setting the mirror down on her work table.
She picked up her glass and sipped from it, before she turned back to Puppet.
"Which is what you will do," she explained. "All you have to do is come out of your box, give a child a present, and go back in. Can you do that for me? Just like you did now?"
Puppet nodded again. Miss Bonnie reached to pat the top of its head. It ducked down a little, but let her.
"Thank you," she said. "Please return to your default stasis."
It nodded a final time before it crawled back into its box, closing the lid as it went.
Processing new information.
Updating: personality_test.
Updating: watch_learn.
Updating: artifical_intelligence.
Outside, it heard a soft click, then Miss Bonnie speaking again.
"Today is Friday, March 6th, 1970, at 11:53pm. I have given my first test to the Protocol Unit for Personality Performance Engagement Test, or P.U.P.P.E.T. for short. Subject responded appropriately to local engagement. The subject indicated tells of the appropriate programmed personality. I will make future adjustments as needed. The subject understood its purpose, and responded appropriately. For its first run, I am satisfied with my results, and I am confident that my personality engagement software, with further development, will be able to give this establishment a spark that no one else can replicate."
It heard the little click again, then the scritch-scratch of the pencil on paper."Rest up, little one," Miss Bonnie told it. "We have a long few days ahead of us."
Saturday, November 13, 1993
The old man left with the night guard, allowing Gregory Mortman at least another minute or two alone before Waylon Kent inevitably showed up. He glanced around the room, at the stages, and then the present box in the back. He smirked a little as he approached the box. When he got close enough, he tapped on it to mockingly make its occupant aware of his presence.
"Been a long time, hasn't it, rag doll?" he muttered.
No answer. Fine by him.
"I'm not sure what she did to you to make you immune to me," Greg continued. "No matter how well I tweak and adjust, you always have a way of overriding my changes."
His smirk widened.
"But it won't matter after tonight. You haven't beaten me yet, and you won't start now."
He waited patiently for a response, and was only met with silence, which amused him more.
"You didn't save that guard," he continued. "You didn't save that brat, and you didn't save her."
His smile widened with anticipation.
"And you won't save your new friend tonight, either."
He patted the top of the box, expecting the further silence that followed. It was broken a moment later by the door jingle. Greg turned to see who had arrived.
Good.
Just who he wanted to see.
Waylon Kent waddled in, pulling his coat off as he made it inside. He twitched his mustache in irritation, then reached up to wipe his nose.
"Damn wind," he muttered, hooking his coat over his arm.
Greg waved to him from the prize counter.
"Morning, Mr. Kent."
"Morning, Schm-"
Waylon looked up, a little surprised to see the tall, broad, blond guard there instead of the small, wiry brunette one. He looked properly unamused.
"You're not supposed to be in until ten, Mortman."
"I know," Greg said, "but seeing the performances yesterday, I noticed some lag and jittering."
He pointed a thumb toward the main stage.
"When was the last time you had proper upkeep done on those animatronics?"
Waylon scowled.
"It's not in the budget," he said. "We do what we can to keep them in working order, but I don't have a dime to spare for new parts. We're closing down at the end of the year anyway, so it doesn't matter."
"It matters to me," Greg said, quietly.
He glanced over to the stage.
"I used to work on them, you know. I spent hours cleaning, building, maintaining, and reprogramming. It's insulting to see them in that state."
"The kids don't care," Waylon said, "and you're in too early."
"Well, since I'm here, can I at least do a quick clean and tighten their joints?" Greg asked, turning back to Waylon. "It won't take longer than an hour or two, and they'll run better until this place runs down."
"I'm not paying for it," Waylon said, curtly.
"I wasn't expecting you to."
"Pro-bono, huh? What's the catch?"
"I feel less insulted about the work I put into those machines to begin with, and I get to do something I love to fill my morning, instead of wasting it at a coffee shop while waiting for my shift to start."
Waylon seemed to consider it.
"...All right," he muttered. "But only because your file said you're certified."
He headed for the east hall, where the the tiny manager's office waited for him. He stopped, then turned to Greg.
"But if you break them, it's coming out of your salary."
"I expected that too," Greg said, with a small shrug.
Waylon nodded and headed back to his office to deal with the morning paper work. Once in the clear, Greg shot a predatory look at the present box. He then went into the back room to find some tools.
03/10/1970 10:17:32pm
The sound of the backstage door shut and locked. Puppet stayed down in its box, as it had done the last few days until Miss Bonnie came to check on it and run tests if she had time, and at least tell it hello if she couldn't linger. It listened to the familiar tread of her footsteps, waiting for her to knock on the lid.
And she did.
Puppet gently pushed the lid up, peeking out only enough to see Miss Bonnie. As usual, she smiled, but something seemed different about it tonight.
"I have something to show you," she said.
Puppet noticed something under her arm. Miss Bonnie noticed it looking, and held up the object.
Engage watch_ artificial_intelligence.
Puppet pushed the lid up a little more so it could better see the object in her hands. It was large and rectangular, and thick enough that Miss Bonnie needed to hold it in both hands to showcase it properly. The front of it was was white with a cutout heart. Around the heart were the words, "Our Memories" written in silver. Inside the heart was a picture of Miss Bonnie and a man it did not recognize.
"This is me and Freddy," Miss Bonnie said. "We built this place together."
Puppet committed the photograph to memory, then looked back up at Miss Bonnie, questioningly tilting its head. Her smile still looked strange, as if someone pressed her lips too tightly against her endoskeleton.
"This is always a hard night for me," Miss Bonnie whispered, "because Freddy is not here anymore. He disappeared three years ago."
She opened the album, and began to show it a few pictures. Puppet took each one in as vital information, for why else would Miss Bonnie show them? It only saw pictures from the first few pages, some of them showing Miss Bonnie and Freddy in white, while others showed them in different colors, doing different activities together.
"But we were happy," Miss Bonnie said, turning the album around so she could look at it herself.
She gently ran her fingers over some of the pictures. Puppet's eyes were once more drawn to her lips. They moved unnaturally, shaking. Her eyes started to shine. It tilted its head to better take them in, intrigued that they could do that.
The shine spilled over, trailing down Miss Bonnie's face. Puppet reached up and touched its mask, tracing one of the purple lines there.
It was like her, it realized.
Always smiling, with streaks down its face.
Engage personality_test.
Processing new information.
Activating emotional_algorithm.
Determining factors.
Processing emotional output.
Puppet pointed to its smile, then to Miss Bonnie, pleased with this new discovery. Miss Bonnie, however, seemed to take no notice of it. She stared at a page in the photo album, then wandered over to the work table, her eyes never leaving the book. Puppet followed her movements. It watched as she set the album down in front of her, then reached into her pocket for a set of keys. Miss Bonnie then crouched down to crawl under the work table.
She located a small silver box, and unlocked a padlock. The front of the box swung open on a hinge, revealing four tall green bottles inside. Miss Bonnie grabbed two and pulled them out, then dug into the box until she found a sheer, round glass with a stem, and a tool of sorts. She locked the strange box again, then opened the tool, revealing a sort of spring with a pointed end. Puppet watched as Miss Bonnie used this tool to pull the top out of one of the bottles, then pulled herself back up to her seat with her prizes.
Once she situated herself, she poured a strange, bubbling red liquid into the glass. She barely had it halfway full before she lifted it to her lips and chugged it down, then turned back to the album on the table. With her hunched posture and bowed head, her long hair hung over her face, hiding all but her shining eyes from Puppet's view.
For a long while, Puppet held up the lid and watched her continuous pattern of looking at pictures, filling her glass to drink from it, turning the page, and occasionally reaching up to wipe the shine from her eyes. This strange ritual intrigued it. Sometimes, her hair moved just enough to see a smile, but something about the shine on her face made it look...off.
"...I miss him so much," Miss Bonnie whispered after a while. "Everything about this place, everything we built together...it's like he's still here. I can feel him here."
Miss Bonnie finally turned to look in Puppet's direction. More of the shine dripped down from her eyes, tinted now with black streaks, though her smile began to fade. Seizing the opportunity, Puppet once more pointed to its own smile, its own lines on its cheeks.
They were the same.
She gave it a face like her own.
Miss Bonnie shook her head after a moment.
"I can't sm-smile," she said. "N-not right...not right now."
She reached up to bury her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and strange sounds came from her vocal unit.
Distress detected.
Engage damage_control.
Puppet pushed the lid away entirely so it could lift itself out of its box. It clutched the edge of it, leaning over at its waist to reach for her. The tips of its fingers barely grazed her arm. The string attached to its cross tightened, limiting its reach.
Miss Bonnie gasped, and turned to look at it. She no longer smiled. Her eyes were red. The shine on her cheeks smeared, and those strange sounds cut in and out. Puppet kept its arm outstretched, wanting her to come closer. Miss Bonnie forced up a smile.
"You don't...n-need to worry about me, li-little one," she said. "I-I-I'll...be fine."
She picked up the bottle and started to pour from it, only to find very little left. Miss Bonnie picked up the spiral tool to open the other bottle.
"I jus'...I jus' need t'relax," she said, her words starting to slur together. "I-it will pass."
Once she got it open, she didn't bother pouring it into the glass. She simply put it to her lips, and took a long swig.
"My poor Fr-Freddy-bear," she moaned. "God, I w-wi...wissssh you could m-meet him, Puppet. He'd love you."
Puppet reached for her again as she took another long drink, spilling some of it onto her shirt. The dark stain spread over her chest.
"D-damn it," Miss Bonnie said.
She reached a hand to her head and rubbed her temples. Puppet took in her misery, and knew it had to do something.
Distress detected.
Engage damage_control.
It reached for her again, and once more felt the tug of the string. Puppet looked at its hand, where the string attached to its wrist. It pulled at it, trying to take it away, but the string remained attached.
Trapped, it realized.
Trapped, with Miss Bonnie crying right there, and no way to reach her.
Puppet gripped the edge of the box, trying to think off something else. It looked back at its wrists, at the strings...and upon following them, it found another piece: a little silver torus. Under it, the Puppet noticed grooves sticking out from its wrist, spiraling in…
...Like the tool Miss Bonnie used to open the bottles.
Updating watch_learn.
Updating artificial_intelligence.
Puppet carefully gripped the torus and turned, just as it saw Miss Bonnie do. It took a few attempts, but it soon unscrewed the strings from its limbs, freeing itself. Being occupied with her bottle, Miss Bonnie never saw her creation lean out of its box, claw at the floor, and pull itself out. She never saw it pull itself towards her, like a dying man desperately crawling to a well. She only realized something long and thin wrapped around her shoulders, and a cold, hard head resting against her own.
"P-Puppet…?"
It
knew there was a reason Miss Bonnie showed it those pictures. Her Freddy often seemed to be holding her like this.
And she always smiled when he did.
A loud clink echoed from the tile floor, followed by a slosh and two glugs as the green bottle hit the floor, dumping some of the red liquid over the black and white tiles. Slowly, Miss Bonnie carefully put her arms around Puppet's thin, round chest.
She shook as she tightened her grip.
"...Thank you," she whispered.
A new wave of shine leaked from her eyes, but Puppet glimpsed her smile.
"That was exactly what I needed."
Mike kept Will's old green truck in sight as he navigated the little light blue Suzuki FX to follow it. Vanna sat quietly in her seat, watching the road ahead and occasionally sipping at her coffee. A rock station played on the radio, the volume only loud enough to be heard. As they drove, Mike and Vanna took turns filling each other in on the strangeness they each faced alone.
Outside the car, the city became suburbs, and within twenty minutes, even those faded away into a small woodland area with bigger, grassier yards and smaller houses, with small thickets of trees and bushes separating the neighbors from each other. Will turned up a hill, and then into a denser patch of trees.
Mike followed him. He severely disliked how alone and isolated the houses around here were. If Vanna thought the same thing, she made no indication.
Will veered off the road and into a dirt driveway. He parked in front of an old, two-story house with weathered boards. Just like the other homes here, it had a large front yard, with two large aspens hiding parts of the house from the street.
Mike parked behind him and killed the engine. Vanna quickly got out, locking her door as she did. Mike grabbed the coffee she got him and followed suit. Ahead, Will had also disembarked from his truck, and was sorting through his keys for the one to the front door.
"Sorry 'bout rushin' you over here," Will said, "but like I told you, I didn't want unwanted ears listenin' in."
He glanced to Mike.
"And neither did you."
Mike nodded, choosing to wait until they were safely inside before he told Will what he discovered. Even here in the outskirts, he felt too exposed. He and Vanna followed Will into the house and shut the door behind them. They stood on a small landing, with a set of stairs going down, and another set going up to the open living room. A glance up showed an iron railing, and the back of a brown couch propped against it.
"Will?" Mike asked.
"Hmm?"
Will turned to Mike.
"...It's Greg," Mike said, wanting to get it out now that they had proper privacy.
Will turned to him, then gestured for him and Vanna to follow him downstairs as they spoke.
"Had a hunch he knew somethin'," Will muttered.
"No, what I mean is," Mike said, a bit more urgently, "he killed those kids. And he killed Jeremy."
Will halted at the bottom of the stairs. Mike and Vanna both stopped as well. The old man turned around and gave them both a once-over, his aged face stern at first. Will turned to Mike, and his sternness melted away into sorrowful uncertainty.
"...Fitzgerald?" he asked, after a moment.
Mike gave him an awkward nod.
"My brother," he whispered, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I…"
He stepped down, until he stood beside Will.
"...I know you found his body."
Will remained silent for a moment as he considered how to respond.
"...How?" he managed at last.
"He told us," Vanna said, descending the steps until she joined her companions.
Will stared at her.
"But he's…"
He trailed off. A thought suddenly answered his own question.
"...The suit," he said. "It must've shown you something."
"More than that," Vanna said, "it's haunted. All of them are."
"Only Jeremy could talk to us directly, though," Mike added. "The others...I think the animatronics speak for them. They're far more articulate than any child."
Will remained silent for another moment. He just gave them a defeated nod.
"...Makes sense," he said quietly, "given how they were programmed."
He cleared his throat, then turned back to Mike.
"And regardin' Jeremy...I did what I could when I found 'im," Will said, quietly. "Don't ask where 'is body ended up; I wouldn't tell you if I knew."
Mike awkwardly took a step back. Vanna moved a little closer to her friend. Will set a firm hand on Mike's shoulder, and aligned his brown eyes with the night guard's.
"But I...I helped 'im disappear," he confessed, "because I know he didn't do nothin'. I saw it in his eyes as soon as I pulled off that mask."
Will forced back a shudder.
"Ain't no nice way to put it," he said, breaking his gaze away from Mike's. "If that suit didn't do 'im in first, fear definitely did, and all these years, it's haunted me. Never seen anyone look that damn terrified in my life."
He gave another pointed glance back to Mike.
"And knowin' you two were related...well, it explains a lot about you, kid. And I'm…"
Will closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.
"...I'm sorry about that," he said, turning away. "I know it's probably done a lot of damage to you and your folks. I knew I was gonna hurt people when I did it, but I had to, Mike."
He looked back at the night guard. Mike felt every sensation drain as he listened, until he became numb.
Numb was preferable to shock.
Numb was preferable to pain.
Even Vanna's hand grazing against his felt so far away.
"I had to keep the case open," Will continued, "so he didn't get blamed for whatever happened to those kids. So the right person would be caught and punished. And it..."
Will choked a bit, his tone a lot more tender.
"...It seems I was right," he whispered, "and I'm...I'm sorry for it, Mike. I'm sorry it had to be this way. I'm sorry I had to hurt you to uncover the truth."
Mike swallowed hard and nodded. It was all he could do to keep up the composure he'd built up on the way here; to stay numb. Will squeezed his shoulder, then let go. Vanna's tight grip on his hand replaced Will's. Mike hesitantly returned it. Will then turned from them and gestured for them to follow him.
"I'm still shocked to learn it was Greg," he said, trying to get off the subject, "though in hindsight, well...we go back."
Will dug out his keys again and sorted through them as he walked. Mike gently pulled his hand from Vanna's and quietly followed him, his best friend trailing behind them.
"Like I said," Will continued. "I figured he knew somethin' about the place that he wasn't lettin' on, but...I...I honestly didn't expect it to be murder."
He gave a quick glance to his companions.
"But more on that later. Let me show you what I needed to show you."
He quickly lead them through a large open room until they reached another door on the right, but Mike and Vanna took in enough of the space to determine a sort of comfortable man-cave: a pool table and darts, a cushy couch creating a barrier away from the game space, a big screen TV, and artwork of sports figures and beer ads donning the walls.
Will got the door unlocked and reached through the door frame, fumbling to the side for the light switch. Mike and Vanna carefully stepped inside.
And as soon as the light came to life, Mike and Vanna immediately understood why the old man brought them here.