Mable: Welcome to a series of FNAF-tober prompts I wrote for Halloween! Originally posted on Tumblr, I shall now be moving them here (along with finishing any unfinished ones). Enjoy!

Begin Prompt in 3, 2, 1…
FNAF-tober Edition

1: Locked Out

"Charlie, we have to get out of here! The whole place is coming down!"

John's voice is like a distant echo in her pounding ears. More adrenaline than blood runs through her veins as her fingers slide down the door. She knows he's on the other side, she can feel it. She's had dreams of this door, nightmares of this door, and it's always him waiting on the other side, begging to be set free.

"I can't- I can't just leave! This is it!" Charlie pleads with him. "This is what I've been looking for! This is what I'm supposed to find!"

"Charlie, he's not back there!" John affirms. He grabs her by the shoulders and rips her back from the door, forcibly making her face him. "I know you miss your brother, I know you miss how it used to be, but you're going to get yourself killed!"

The moaning of the structure above warns of its impending collapse. She looks up and dust falls into her eyes, burning and blinding them, and John tries to shield her as best as he can with his arms. She can hear the metal bending in on itself.

"Charlie..."

And she can hear a voice. It startles her and she looks to John, but he's said nothing. He's too busy directing the others to get out, who are only staying behind because she is. Then Charlie looks to the door and the voice gets louder.

"Charlie, please... It's me..."

"Sammy?" she asks. John looks to her in confusion. "I hear him... I can hear him through the door!"

"What?" John listens and hears nothing. "Charlie, there's nothing there. Look, it's just this place, it's just those machines messing with your mind. We have to-." A large section of wall falls in across the room. "We have to get out of here! We're going to die down here!"

"Charlie, don't leave me again," the voice pleads. "Not you. Not again."

"You have to snap out of it!" John pleads as he shakes her more harshly. He physically turns her to face him again. "It's not real!"

"You can't hear it at all?" she asks. She starts to wonder if he's right. The voice sounds so real, but if it's only to her then maybe it is in her head. Maybe all this time- the dreams and the visions- were all just of her own creation. Desperately believing that Sammy is still out here only because she wanted him to be. "But why this door-?"

"I don't know what's behind that door, but it's not going to be Sammy. I can promise you that," John insists. She meets his gaze again and sees his eyes filled with fear and regret. "We have to go, now, or we're not getting out, and I'm not going without you."

Charlie sends one last look at the door.

"Please, Charlie. Help me..."

And then turns away. It is gut-wrenching to do and she must force a nod, which signals for John to start leading her out. The crumbling building continues to collapse as he leads her out to safety. All the while she can hear the voice still calling through the door.

"Come back! Charlie, please! Charlie! You can't leave me like this! I..."

And right before she gets out of earshot, she hears something that sends a chill down her spine.

"I WILL FIND YOU!"

2: Pirate Pranks

The landlubber had been lazy with the cameras tonight. Foxy noticed it right away and had slowly inched further out of his curtain with his teeth bared as though smirking. Tonight would be the night he made it into the office, he was sure of it. So, shortly after the strike of three in the morning, and with the camera still inactive, Foxy made a run for it.

His feet pounded on the tile floor as he sprinted down the hallway. In a matter of seconds he had reached the door and spotted it left wide open, ready for him to run straight inside. He closed in with the upmost confidence and prepared to barge right in. He was going to make it.

And he would've made it, if not for his feet suddenly losing traction and him sliding past the door at near breakneck speed. So fast that he kept going and crashed into the wall at the end of the hallway. Foxy collapsed on his back so hard that if he had lungs he would've had the wind knocked out of him. For a moment he was just too stunned to even move.

Then came the laughter.

That got Foxy back to his feet. He fumbled over the slickened ground, barely catching himself on the wall before he could fall again- it felt suspiciously like someone poured cooking oil everywhere- and had the door slammed in his face before making it to the window. There he saw the source of laughter and everything suddenly made total sense.

There, with a biscuit-eater's grin and looking smug, was Schmidt. Unlike the other nightguards, Schmidt never left the cameras unintended. That mixed with the strange substance on the floor pointed the guilt straight at him. But why would Schmidt be so bold as to risk his own neck to pull a prank like this?

The answer to that was sitting right beside him. The blond nightguard who was sweating through his uniform- Foxy vaguely remembered him being named Jeremy- was usually on the day shift. It was rare to have two guards working together, and Foxy could only assume it was either cockiness or the desire to show off that persuaded Schmidt.

And then Schmidt saluted at him. Definitely cockiness.

Foxy growled low in his chest and glared intensely through the window before turning and leaving. He had to move slower, so he heard when the door opened.

"Mike, you probably shouldn't have done that..."

"Nah, it's fine."

Foxy had half a mind to charge back into the room and show Schmidt how 'fine' it was, but he knew he'd slip again, fall to the floor, and be the laughing stock again. Instead he stormed back to his stage, knowing he was going to get stuck there all night at this rate. He could feel the camera on his back and with a glare ripped the curtain shut.

Only for the entire thing, rod and all, to decide now was the perfect time to fall. He could hear the laughter again and by now Foxy was two seconds from going haywire, running down that hallway, and breaking right through that window-

Or. Or he could do something else. A new idea formulated and Foxy slinked off his stage and somewhere back where the cameras wouldn't see. He didn't return for the rest of the night and the onlookers were none the wiser.

…

The next morning at 6AM sharp, Mike and Jeremy left the office. As per usual, the animatronics had returned to their stage. Both were surprised to see that Foxy had returned to his as well, standing prone on his stage. They briefly tried to put the curtain back up, but it was clear that the rusted bolts that had been holding the rod up just wouldn't work anymore.

"We'll just leave this for Fritz to fix," Mike said. He then gave Foxy a casual, if somewhat weary, "Take it easy, Captain."

Foxy was watching him closely, a little more obviously than usual. There was something peculiar in that gaze, but he didn't realize what it was until he got outside and saw exactly what the pirate had gotten up to.

Which would be currently drawn all over his car- no, not drawn, scratched into the already flaking paint with his inappropriately sharp hook. Waves had been drawn into the side, a pirate flag across the front, and on the back, right on the trunk, were a few choice words.

"That is sailor talk right there. Yeah, that's- that's definitely not kid-friendly," Jeremy spoke up awkwardly. "...Well, uh... At least we know where he was?" Mike's shocked look slowly fell into a tight glare at the back of the car. "...Mike?"

"I need to run by the super center and get some cooking oil and super glue. Catch you on the flipside," Mike said before getting into his car. Jeremy had a well-justified look of dread as he peeled out of the parking lot.

If Foxy wanted a war, he was going to get it.

3: Lobotomy

Gabe stepped into the light spilling out of the bathroom and saw his younger brother standing inside. The young man wasn't doing anything at the sink, he was just standing there, staring into the bathroom mirror, turned just enough that Gabe couldn't see his face. Something was wrong.

"Marion?" Gabe asked groggily. He rubbed a hand over his eyes to try and clear his foggy vision. "What are you doing up this late?"

His brother turned his head slowly in his direction, but didn't look directly at him. The lingering silence was beginning to make Gabe uneasy, and it wasn't like he was willing to leave his brother just standing here.

"What's up? Did you have a nightmare or something?" he asked, his exhaustion a little more apparent on his voice.

Marion slowly turned back towards the mirror to stare at himself again, saying not a word. Maybe he was looking at his scars; the thought made Gabe uncomfortable.

He sighed and reached for his arm. "Come on, I'll take you back to bed."

Marion gave a sigh, grabbed ahold of the porcelain of the sink-

-and proceeded to smash his head into the mirror with a gut-twisting crunch.

"Marion!" Gabe choked. He watched in horror as his brother began to twist his head into the glass, causing more cracks to spread across the mirror. "Stop! What the hell are you doing?!"

Gabe grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back only to have him collapse into his arms. Marion's head rolled back against his chest and revealed the horror of what he had done to himself. Large shards of glass were lodged deeply into his forehead and blood was already pooling around his eyes and leaking down his cheeks.

Through swears of panic, Gabe managed to get his brother into his arms. He knew he needed to get help, but he wouldn't survive a drive to the hospital like this. He had to get the glass out, quick, and he carried him over to the bathtub and laid him inside.

"Okay, okay, I'm going to fix this. You're going to be fine," Gabe said with the panic very evident in his tone. Marion's head rolled limply, but he said nothing. "...What were you thinking?! Were you trying to get yourself killed?!"

Marion opened his mouth to explain and blood leaked past his lips. His words were too slurred to be understood, just like when he had his accident- so much blood.

"Okay, just... Don't talk. Just- Just let me- Let me get this out..."

Gabe reached down and took ahold of one of the shards. For some reason, he knew this was the only way, and he pulled the shard out. Blood spurted out and oozed down along his eyebrow. With the second shard, a large peel of skin followed, revealing white skull bone underneath.

"O-Oh God," Gabe choked and swallowed deeply. "It's going to be okay."

"Gabriel..." Marion's voice was slurred as his eyes became more unfocused. "Feeellls wrroong. Caan't- Caaan't- Caaan't-."

"Don't try to talk. Just let me do this, okay? I got this. I can handle this," Gabe pleaded. He reached for a deeper piece and began to slide it out. Much to his horror, inch after inch began to slide out but the shard never seemed to end. When it finally came loose, there was a fleshy matter coating the tip. He knew it had to be brain matter and his blood ran cold.

"Gaabe..." his brother slurred. Now half of his mouth wasn't moving and the left side of his face seemed to be sinking. He gagged and something thick and coppery spilled from his mouth. "Why?"

"I didn't mean it," Gabe choked. He frantically continued to pick teeth out of his brother's head and tried to stifle to torrents of blood. "We'll get you a blood transfusion and you'll be okay. Let me just- Let me just fix this, please."

His brother gurgled as his eyes grew from pale to white, with the fluid- brain fluid- pouring out of his mouth and the blood down his face. Suddenly, a hand grabbed ahold of Gabe's shoulder and forcefully turned him around.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

And suddenly, Gabe's eyes shot open and he found himself looking at the dark ceiling of his bedroom. His heart was pounding like he had just ran a mile and he was sweating through his clothes. He slowly sat up in bed to orient himself and wipe off his face. It had just been a nightmare. A terrible, horrible nightmare.

...He had to check on Marion.

In mere seconds, he was hurrying down the hall and let himself into his brother's room. It quickly became apparent that he was still asleep, so Gabe hesitated a second before stepping back out and beginning to shut the door. He hesitated again before heading inside again. He wasn't going to get back to sleep yet anyway.

Gabe sat on the end of the bed cautiously as to not make any noise and risk waking his brother. The only thing that would be worse than the nightmare was then having to explain to his younger brother what happened in it. Because he knew what it was: the same thing it always was, distorted memories of the accident.

With a tired sigh, Gabe rubbed over his face. He would never forget that horrible day, and he would never forgive himself for what he did, but at least his brother was here and he could take care of him. At least in that way he could try to make up for it.

But God- he reached out and laid a protective hand on his brother's box- how he wished he would've lived.