Now, I don't really have any real inspiration for this chapter, I just kind of wanted to move things along since my laptop isn't exactly being too agreeable these days. Also, I kind of want to clean up a few possible misinterpreted ideas and whatnot, so I have my reasons. PM me if you think you found a clue or have an idea of what might happen, or if you think you can bribe the ideas and clues out of me. Pfft, like that would ever work...

Again, I'm broke, (though my sis got me some sketching pencils for my birthday... but my "skills" had been evolved from drawing stick figures, stick dogs, and then somehow became cartoonish wolves that an eight year old could probably draw better. I might look into improving my drawing) and this story is more or less me combining three different stories (by three different people, Harrish6, Harry Lefert, and Griffenhippo) for no profit in a kind of curiosity to see what might happen. Also, keep in mind that the plot doesn't exactly exist, it's more like a bunch of options with the faint idea of where one might lead, but there are some factors that will not change. Not only that, but despite the fact that Ink will be getting what he deserves, it's not in this chapter (he's digging a deeper hole though), as there will only be a quick, brief mention of Error in general. Now that I said what I felt had to be said, onto the chapter! Also, remember that the 4th wall suffers greatly throughout this story.

~~~ With Error ~~~

"I- Well,- Do I actually need to explain myself to someone like you?!" Inky began to stutter before his emotions took hold as his eye lights had looked around nervously for an escape route, and had landed on a SOUL of a Frisk, and hardened instantly. Error's eye lights narrowed, and he gritted his golden teeth but once again chose to be the better skeleton. "And what exactly am I, then?" Error's voice was cold and held little emotion, a clear warning to watch what you were doing. Just because he was being the better skeleton didn't mean that he wasn't petty, and who was he to warn and limit the oh-so-high-and-mighty Creator? Fate forbid if he were to even suggest that he, the lowly Destroyer, were to warn the oh-so-powerful Inky that he was testing the Destroyer's patience!

However, that didn't mean that Error wouldn't retaliate against the Creator, no matter what Fate had to say- or rather, scream. Very bad manners if you were you ask the glitch, but we're getting off topic into an unnecessary rant, aren't we? Now let's see the oh-so-wise answer of the beloved Creator. "You're a coldblooded murderer that wants only to destroy the Multiverse! A being of negativity! A glitch, an error in the coding! You don't belong! You're just like Fresh, not created by me, and a threat to the Multiverse! All people like you think about is their own gain! You don't truly care about anyone else, only ways to achieve your selfish goals!" Ink accused, pushing past the feeling of guilt upon seeing the bandages and rather allowing Error to hear his opinion about him.

As Ink continued to rant about how evil Error was while also somehow seeing fit to compare the Destroyer to himself, pointing out the acts the glitch had committed in his grief-caused insanity, of his "crimes" against the Multiverse, all while carelessly waving around Error's most precious possessions. Multiverse this, Multiverse that. Error hardly heard the shorter skeleton's foolish rant as the black, red and yellow skeleton felt his rage grow, combining with the remains of the thoughts that had fed the insanity-rage, and felt his magic replenish and swirl around restlessly as he gazed at the framed photo, the box, and the article all being carelessly waved about in small bone fists. Breaking and entering, as well as stealing. Stealing what was HIS. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. Error was beyond mad. Beyond angry. Just about to reach the place of where words could not describe it. Even now words could not truly describe it, as it was like trying to explain to your parents why you did what you did, give or take the difficulty level.

However, I suppose you could call it The-Rage-Which-Allows-Error-To-Beat-The-Balance-Into-Inky-While-Completely-Ignoring-Fate. After all, next time we tune in, it'll be pretty accurate...

~~~ With Harry ~~~

Harry had awoken around 4 p.m. and wearing a grey shirt and dark jeans, and had went out into the Muggle world in order to get a jacket, not really needing to buy much food since his job provided it for free. Not only would he need something to keep him warm if he was forced to move his location (since wearing a Weasley sweater just felt wrong now and even made him feel colder, but on the inside), but he hoped that along with a hat covering his scar, and wearing muggle clothes, maybe some different glasses frames if he could find and afford such a thing would help throw the Wizarding World off the scent even by a little. These were the reasons Harry had used to justify buying the black, dark blue, and yellow jacket (imagine Error's jacket) he was wearing as he made his way back to his tent.

Eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Harry thought back to how the jacket just seemed to feel familiar, how the sight of it had stirred a little something in what little potion hadn't worn off yet. He had liked the jacket anyways, so the potion wasn't really effecting his decisions. He was the one in control, and that thought startled him a little. Control. Living on his own, choosing whether or not to get a job, where to live, who he should trust, what he should trust, he had almost complete control over his life. Nothing could influence him. In fact, he could take this chance to test his limits. Well, not magically, but still. Mentally. He slept when he wanted to, he chose how his energy would be used. Much better than his relatives who caged him in like some kind of animal.

Turning back to his sandwich, Harry then turned his thoughts to his coworker. Now, he wasn't mad at Mike, Mike was a good guy, after all, if maybe a bit nosy and, well, concerned about Harry's home life and education. Harry was just a bit annoyed, and maybe a just a little hurt and angry. After all, that wound about his dead parents had been opened far too many times, and even had salt rubbed into it at times *cough Snape cough*. But he wasn't actually mad at his coworker. It had been an innocent, unknowing question, after all. Mike did have a point, however. What kind of parent would want their kid working as night guard of Fazbear's Pizzeria? However, it also applied to Mike since the 19 year old was most likely still in contact with his parents, probably still influenced. So why was Mike working there? It was a question that, Harry decided, would be answered either without being asked or simply put off to the side until an opening was made. But not tonight.

Speaking of tonight... Harry took a shower, got his uniform ready, even slipping the two vials of potion in the pocket to make sure he didn't forget, before setting an alarm and taking a nap on command. Hey, he was a growing boy, and eating food was just part of the equation, he also needed sleep, and no number of nights with killer robots could take his precious sleep away especially if he were exhausted, though they could mess up the rest of his schedule. If he ever returned to Hogwarts, the classes would be hell with his messed up sleeping schedule.

When Harry awoke, he would put on his uniform (make sure his hat was undamaged and looking as awesome as ever on top of his messy black hair), tied his new jacket that he decided was his new best friend around his waist, and then make his way to his... workplace.

~~~ With Bendy ~~~

Bendy pulled the stamp away from the yellowed paper, having perfectly placed the stamp in the cotner so that if he decided to send Henry a letter, there would be a subtle warning for him. With any "mistakes" being intentional, to give a clue. The stamp was the shape of his head with a 'B' in it, his official 'signature' mark. Of course, to give Henry a subtle warning of what Joey had done, had become, if he ever sent the old guy the letter. After all, his thought that Henry could turn the tables was accurate. Maybe, though, the former animator could turn the tide in Bendy's favor... Bendy looked over the letter one more time in his mind before he would write it.

"Dear Henry,

It seems a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. 30 years really slips away, doesn't it? If you're back in town, come visit the old workshop. There's something I need to show you. And who knows? Maybe you can help.

Your best pal,

Joey Drew"

The ink demon nodded, satisfied with the letter. It was simple, and, for the most part, Joey's kind of style of letters. Bendy was stretching a little adding in the almost hopeful "maybe you can help" which was bound to make Henry suspicious. But maybe, that would make the old guy think that - Joey needed the help. After all, the two had been pals back in the day. However, it wasn't likely that the letter would actually be sent, much less written. And even if it was and Henry came, Bendy could easily pretend to be Joey. After all, between the Joey-Bendy and the actual Bendy, the Joey-Bendy was the one who was the monster and looked the part as well.

Then the darling devil realized what he was thinking. Disgusted with himself, he swiped his hand across the table, wiping the stamped paper off it, allowing the yellowed paper to fly/flutter off to who knows where. Bendy couldn't believe that he had even considered pulling the 50, 60, maybe 70 year old man into the dark, twisted, inky mess the studio had become. Besides, he was certain that the 30 year remark was wrong. Sighing, the ink demon put his face into his gloved hand, leaning over the table. 'How am I supposed to help Error if I can't even help myself?' Bendy thought bitterly, before grabbing a can of bacon soup and eating it cold, chugging it down, in fact, as if it were the alcohol and he the alcoholic. And maybe that wasn't too far from the truth. (Take the Sanses or Sansi or whatever you call more than one Sans for example. And they most likely do it on the job, too. Yeesh. What horrible role models.)

~~~ With Mike ~~~

Mike awoke with a yawn, and upon seeing that it was 9 p.m., got up. Eating a small bowl of cereal to help him wake up a little, since coffee took a bit of time for the caffeine to kick in, and he didn't want to risk mixing even a little caffeine with adrenaline, especially as he was the one who kept an eye on the cameras. It was Harry's job to be crazy, hyper, and most of all, fast. Mike paused in the act of washing his used bowl. He hoped the green-eyed kid wasn't mad at him, but if he was, Mike couldn't blame him. Mike himself wouldn't be very pleasant if you asked him about his parents. Well, friendship or brother like bonds could be fixed after almost dying, since any issues had to be brushed aside during the perilous night shift.

That in mind, Mike decided to take a shower and get into his uniform, including the hat that Harry had brought attention to. It wasn't a bad hat. It was probably the most awesome hat required as uniform. 'It's a dumb idea to try to adopt Harry, after all, surely someone had already adopted him! But then again, he would probably be better off with me since whoever his guardian is obviously couldn't care less about him, considering that they let him work here. But would he really be better off with me? After all, I can barely take care of myself! I can barely support myself, that's why I'm working the night shift!' Mike thought to himself as he changed into his uniform, and put the hat on. Looking into the mirror, his troublesome thoughts were distracted by the amazing hat.

Mike blinked. Then he decided though the hat was awesome, it must be the victim of some witchcraft. After all, it had distracted him. Maybe it was good witchcraft though, and that made Freddy pause. Or Mike just had issues. Mike decided to go with the logical reason: witchcraft (...). Having slept over 12 hours, Mike, unable to go back to sleep, decided to play Subway Surfers for 10 minutes before slowly making his way to the Pizzeria.

~~~ With Harry, Mike, and the animatronics ~~~

Some time had passed, and now Harry and Mike stood before the building they were required to remain in from 12 a.m. to 6 a.m. in order to get their money, and if they quit, they would be forced to pay a hefty fine. "Welcome to Fazbear's Pizza, where fantasy and fun come to life... Care to unlock the door, Mike?" Harry mumbled, gazing up at the building that hid a dark past, a dark present, and a dark truth that he had a feeling he had only partly found out. Perhaps it would have a dark future, as well... but not if Harry could do anything to stop it. The moment Mike's back was turned, Harry stealthily whipped out the vial he had already taken a sip from, and took two sips from it before slipping it back in his pocket.

This time, Harry drank the potion more slowly, so slowly that Mike would have noticed him swallowing/swishing around something in his mouth if he had turned to face Harry immediately after unlocking the doors at a normal pace, not taking his sweet time. However, there was method to Harry's maddening recklessness. He wanted to really taste the potion. Also, he just had a feeling. This time, the "taste feelings" came with information, a tiny glimpse of an image that he didn't quite memorize, details lost, left only with a bare idea, but mostly a tiny tidbit of information, a hint of an idea, the tiniest glimpse into another's memories. Sadness- a glimpse of eternal tears. Despair- a failed suicide attempt. Pain- going through so much pain and beatings you should be long dead, but you can't die, and that's the worst part. Injustice- doing a thankless job and despised for it, but if weren't done, then everything would cease to exist. Power- the ability to destroy universes blind and alone. The lingering chocolate- ribs being broken for stealing and eating it, but stealing is the only way you can get it, but eventually you stop since it isn't worth it.

Harry managed to swallow the potion, hiding his pain behind a mask of a grim expression. The knowledge thankfully lessened to the sadness being tears, the despair being not dying, the pain being a beating in which the sweet release of death wouldn't come, the injustice being all the pain being because of something forced upon one. The lingering chocolate was being unable to eat even a tiny piece for years. But the faded knowledge was replaced by something that made all the brief pain bearable- the knowledge that, knowing and understanding this pain, you can help others through it.

Walking through the door, as Harry glanced at the animatronics, for a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw, glowing faintly within the animatronics, ghosts of children, with something unnatural keeping a hold of them, ready to control them and bend them to its own will the moment midnight struck, as if they were mere puppets or something. Harry blinked. And the image was gone.

Harry and Mike had eaten a quick meal of pizza and soda before walking into the security office, and Mike sat in an office chair while Harry leaned on the wall next to the 'door' and 'light' buttons of the West Hallway entrance. They both waited, silently, patiently, for midnight to come and, hopefully, another recording. They had already checked in, so now they waited for a few minutes, finishing the last of their pizza and soda in the process. Finally, it turned to 12 a.m., and their second night had officially started.

THE SECOND NIGHT

Mike reached for the tablet, while Harry watched in silence, tense, ready to hit the buttons at a second's notice, or to run over to the East Hallway entrance. Yet both were waiting, hopefully, for another recorded message from "the Phone Guy".

"Uhh, Hello? Hello? Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats!" "...thanks. Thanks a lot." Harry replied dryly to the message.

"I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..." 'That they might kill us?' Harry thought, holding back a hysterical giggle while Mike paled a little ('SHIT! Uh, yeah, checking these cameras right this instant more than I check the other gender out!' This was currently running through Mike's mind, and he almost said it out loud, and I'll be going now.) and immediately began to flip through the cameras. 'BONNIE MOVED HE MOVED!' Mike instantly internally panicked when he checked the stage, only calming down a little when he saw the animatronic in the party room.

"Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if-if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course." 'Figured that out, and I guess it doesn't hurt to be reminded about a kind of obvious fact... BUT WE ARE IN DANGER!' (They both thought this while, well, not wishing Phone Guy a happy life.)

"I'm not implying that." Murderous expressions mixed with disbelief, and a "Of course" was said through gritted teeth.

"Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon." Murderous turned to horrified while thoughts such as 'NO WE DON'T HAVE EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL I DON'T EVEN HAVE CONTROL OF MYSELF SOMEBODY PLEASE GIVE ME INSTRUCTIONS ON HOW THE HELL TO SURVIVE THIS JOB I PROMISE I'LL STOP CUSSING/I'LL GIVE YOU THE CAN OF BACON SOUP I FOUND ON THE STREET IF YOU DO!' the night guards thought along similar lines.

'Calm down, Mike. You're a brave boy!' Mike attempted to gather courage before spotting Bonnie in the East Hall Corner. 'NOT A BRAVE ENOUGH BOY FOR THIS!' In a attempt to prevent letting Harry how high pitched his voice had become, Mike tugged on the younger boy's arm and shoved the tablet in his face before pointing at the door. Though a got a funny look from Harry's pale face before the boy slammed the East Hall door down, though he had a bit of doubt since doing so used up power, he trusted Mike. "He's still there! Nooo! Still! Ther- Oh, good he left." Mike groaned, looking ready to throw his hat and rip out his hair before gesturing for Harry to open the door, with a look of relief.

'This is going to be a long night...' Harry sighed in his mind, heart pounding in his chest as his eyes widened when he saw the time and how much power they had left. 'Or it might be a long night cut short.' A trickle of sweat began to make it's way down before it was swiftly wiped away. 1 AM with only 73% left wasn't that bad, right? They would live. They had to live. Harry had went through too much to die at the hands- paws- whatever of controlled robots. He had to prove his innocence! He had to tell Dumbledore "Fuck you!"! He had to eat that can of bacon soup! There was so much he had to do, but in the end nothing would have been accomplished if he died tonight. Harry shook himself off before throwing everything he had into the task of surviving the night.

"Hey, we're going to be fine." Mike tried to reassure both Harry and himself with a false, confident smile when he noticed how tense, panicked, and basically "about to have a heart attack" the younger was. Though saying those words made him feel like a liar, at least the 13 year old calmed down. 'They do say that confidence is half the battle or something like that, anyways. Maybe it was war. Because it certainly feels like some kind of war, though I'm afraid that us night guards are on the losing side.'

I decided to leave it off here, and try to finish the second part next month or something. My laptop gave up, so I decided to use my tablet. It's a bit more difficult, and school obviously doesn't care about this, and most of my internet time went to research, school, relaxation, and practicing my social skills on my sister. Forgive me. This isn't the best quality, but you have to admit its something. I have a pile of excuses, but I'll just go on to the walk of shame.

Goodbye and don't die.