"But I won't say it wasn't an unreasonable prediction. Even maniacs have their moments of foresight. Unfortunately."
She bit her lip, haunted at that terrible, no-good, very bad day.
Six hours had turned to twenty-four. Twenty-four hours was damn too long for a day, she now believed.
'Moon Rocks' began to play from the sound booth as Gregory finished up his Freddy drawing, proclaiming it done with a brisk nod of approval. He had abandoned the paint altogether in favor of the googly-eyed pencil Sundrop gave him. The oval eraser was two-thirds gone.
"All done?" Sundrop asked as he leaned tall over him, his head twirling to and fro to gauge it from every angle.
"Think so," Gregory replied quietly with a shy glance at Freddy who had gotten distracted with some sparklers after he was given permission to move again. Monty had abandoned his popsicle bridge in favor of setting an entire fistful of sparklers aflame, and Freddy had joined in on the action, transpiring in a short-lived light show for everyone to enjoy.
"Here!" Sundrop exclaimed whilst unloading art supplies from a colored cardboard box onto the adjacent table. "I have stickers, tape, glue, ink stamps, droppers, foam paint, chalk, markers, crayons-"
"Nah, but thanks anyway. I think it looks good in pencil."
"-colored pencils, play dough, clay, colored tissue paper, straws, popsicle sticks, streamers, pipe cleaners, glitter-" and so on. Sundrop's art boxes had no bottoms.
Poppy silently wandered over to look at the supplies, picked out a few for themselves, and went back to their origami legion.
"charcoal, tin-foil, foam core-"
"-I'll use that for my next drawing," Gregory said quickly to try and appease the attendant.
"Which one?" Sundrop asked, looking about ready to pick up whatever it was that Gregory wanted out of the platoon of art supplies.
Gregory hadn't thought that far. "Uh… the pipe cleaners?"
Sundrop gave him three boxes of multi-colored pipe cleaners. Then: "You can make a frame around the drawing if you want! Are you going to give it to Freddy once you've finished it?"
Gregory nodded, looking jittery. He had not looked this nervous when he was giving his Chica portrait to Chica, who, it should go without saying, thereafter proclaimed Gregory's skills forevermore. It should also go without saying that Gregory jokingly called her out on talking up every kid's present-making craftsmanship, and when she had nothing to say to that, he didn't know whether to laugh harder or to feel duped.
Vanessa chuckled into her hand, released the recorder, and leaned lazily across her table, careful to not spill any of the paints. Sundrop had used her table as the designated art supply cache. With the colors of the rainbow at her fingertips, she had been doodling with markers on a scratch sheet of paper as she spoke. So far, she had a crappy self-portrait of her wearing Poppy's red crown of petals around her head.
Although the activities were very much kid-themed, the animatronics all seemed to be having a blast. Gregory had made it clear that they were not to be hosts at his party, but rather guests who would enjoy themselves as normal party attendees were supposed to do. So, instead of doing something a child would have them do for entertainment, they were entertaining themselves in their own ways. For Sundrop, it was his finger-painting class. For Roxy, it was painting masterpieces to show off. For Chica, it was socializing and playing her guitar for everyone. For Monty, it was dancing and arson.
Gregory was happy to do anything everyone else was doing, and Freddy frequently hovered over him from time to time, taking an avid interest in whatever Gregory did until the boy got onto him about enjoying himself instead of fretting over him. It seemed to escape Gregory that Freddy actively enjoyedfretting over him: speaking to him about his latest activity, getting him snacks... anything to secure those dimples in Gregory's grin.
Freddy always smiled when Gregory was smiling, and it was always a winking, ear-jiggling event that seemed to be involuntary even despite the bear's air-tight self-control layouts.
Vanessa herself couldn't help but smile continuously as the night turned onto its back at the stroke of twelve.
Six hours left.
When Gregory was done gluing his star-shaped golden pipe cleaners around the edges of his drawing, he began to approach Freddy with his artwork in hand. Freddy, meanwhile, was helping Monty stick a box worth of sparklers in between his teeth. Monty had wondered aloud if it would be a good idea to stick them up his nose as well, but Freddy vetoed that idea.
"You should not talk with your mouth full, Monty," Freddy quipped, chuckling lightly.
Monty mockingly returned the quip back to Freddy while forcing his jaw to stay shut against the synch of his voice box. "Bore," he muttered, which was gutsy considering that Freddy was about to set flammables off on his person. Freddy didn't seem to mind, however, and just laughed some more.
Just as Freddy was raising his index finger to carefully light the sparkers that lined Monty's snout, Gregory hid the drawing behind his back, wanting to see the light show at the gator's expense. There hadn't been smoke coming out through his orifices as he thought there would, but it was still amusing enough. He had forgotten about his drawing during the spectacle, but it didn't take long for Roxy, who was at the adjacent table, to spy it.
"Hey Gregory, look at my Freddy drawing," she said splendidly, and with a flourish, presented it for the entire atrium to bear witness.
It was a marker ordeal that should've been taken off to Fazbear Co. to be mass-produced, stat. It had the pose Gregory had wanted and everything. Freddy looked so cool, shiny, and decked out, microphone in one hand and rock sign in the other. Practically Freddy Propaganda.
Freddy took notice of it immediately, and to Gregory's dismay, the traitor clapped for her avidly along with Chica.
"What an amazing poster, Roxy!" Freddy encouraged, stoking Roxy's coals.
"Hmph," was the reply.
"Golly, he looks glorious!" Chica chimed.
"Hey, do me next!" Monty demanded. Roxy pretended to act annoyed at his request, but it was apparent that this pleased her very much; her mane puffed up heroically.
Freddy judged the artwork further and became increasingly perplexed. "Hmm… do I really look like that, though?"
Roxy squawked. Gregory had thought that was Chica's job.
"You doubt my craftsmanship?!"
"No, of course not!" he insisted. "I would never doubt your skill, Roxy. It is just that I do not feel it represents my character very well."
She bared her teeth in a half-hearted snort. "Well, let us see if Gregory's rendition is better than mine!"
Freddy perked up and peered down at Gregory. "You finished my drawing? May I have it?!"
Gregory inhaled spit in his panic to deny the very idea, said "No-!" and began coughing sporadically.
"Gregory! Have you been running around too much?" Freddy asked, reaching for the boy to tenderly pat his back.
Gregory thumped his right ribcage and coughed some more. "No!"
"You should not strain yourself-"
"I haven't, Freddy!" he exclaimed in embarrassment, glaring wildly at Monty who had begun to grunt a few throaty chortles. "Nothing's wrong, stop mommying me!" he whispered under his breath up at his best friend.
"We heard that," Roxy said as she autographed her masterpiece.
Freddy would not be deterred. "I am sure you did a wonderful job on it!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," was huffed right back at him.
'Under pressure' was next on the playlist, most fittingly.
Freddy's big blue eyes darted to the paper hidden behind his back. "Then what are you hiding there? If it is done, I would love to see it!"
"It isn't done! I-I gotta work on it some more…"
"It will not be as good as mine no matter how long you work on it," Roxy claimed.
"Nobody asked you!" he snapped, paused, reconsidered something. "Uh, but can I borrow your markers?"
Roxy offered him the markers and booped his nose as payment.
"I can help you with it if you would like?" Freddy offered.
"Uh, no thank you."
Freddy didn't budge.
They had to strain their necks as they maintained their impasse. Gregory was looking mutinous by this point, but Freddy remained beyond overenthusiastic. As it was, Freddy's hand was still on Gregory's back, holding him in place. Freddy's ears continued to jiggle here and there, so terribly eager to see it as he was…
"I will put it in a secret place if you do not wish for it to be seen," Freddy offered. "I can even keep it in my stomach hatch! No one will bother it there."
Gregory grimaced. That place was cramped enough as it was without him worrying about messing up Freddy's present. Before considering all that it would imply, he admitted as much.
The Glamrocks stopped what they were doing, looking at Gregory as one would when feeling second-hand embarrassment. Freddy's smile faltered in curious mystification, his eyes unfocusing as he pondered it for a moment. He came to a conclusion and waited patiently for when Gregory was ready to elaborate further on it if he wanted to.
Gregory took a hot second. Then light dawned.
Unless he was suddenly cast into a bizarre scenario straight out of an "Indiana Jones" movie, there was no real reason for Gregory to want to go in Freddy's stomach hatch.
He just humiliated himself, and at a coming-of-age celebration no less!
The humanity.
"He is not a hot ride, Gregory," Roxy teased.
Chica, charmed, clapped her hands against her cheek. "Aw! It is like their version of a piggyback ride!"
Monty shrugged. "I'll be your hot ride, buddy! I got a stomach hatch, too." He even opened it to rest his case.
For whatever reason, Monty's hatch looked exceedingly dark, tight, and claustrophobic, even though Monty was only an inch or two shorter than Freddy. Like a tiny trash compactor, room for one, please.
Gregory shuddered to think about climbing into such a small space with a spitfire such as Monty. Then he'd really be a meat pretzel, hold the cheese.
With Freddy, he would be safe. He was always safe when he was in Freddy's stomach hatch. It was always rather warm, too, and Freddy always smelled good, kinda like the interior of a new building. But Gregory hadn't had the need to hide in Freddy since Christmas. Even so, Gregory had always presumed that Freddy's hatch would always be his space- OH! But what a dumb thought! He wouldn't think that! He was a big boy, or so Chica told him.
He was a big boy!
Coming back to himself, Gregory brushed off his unease (and abashment) with a wave of his hand.
"Nah, I prefer an actual piggyback ride with you - you give the best!" he said to Monty. The gator grinned, gave him a wink, and closed his scary stomach pit.
Throughout the exchange, Freddy continued to wait.
Gregory did that embarrassed jig that characters do in comedy animations. Freddy took that as his cue.
"Is it fun to play in my stomach hatch? I never thought you enjoyed it so, as it is not exactly a safe place to play," he prompted happily.
"It's not fun..." Gregory began before stopping himself. "N-never mind, you can totally keep it in there if you want!" he said, his keenness sounding fake even to Monty.
Roxy threw a paper ball at Gregory's head. "Seems like Freddy is wittle Gregory's comfort blan-"
Freddy, startled at Roxy's heckling, started to panic for Gregory's sake before the gator came to the rescue.
"Oh man," Monty cried out, suddenly inspired. "We can watch a movie! I'm choosing first!" With that, he barreled back to the sound booth.
This caught the bear's attention. "Please just make sure that it is PG-13, at most," Freddy called after him. It was brushed off with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever, Fatbear.'
Taking advantage of Monty's distraction, Gregory ducked under Freddy's paw and scurried back to his table in a nearly paranoid manner. Freddy tentatively tailed him, trying fruitlessly to get a glance at the drawing, but was given a stern look as a consequence.
Freddy's ears went still. "Alrighty then."
He went to sit back at his own easel before Roxy stopped him, seizing another moment of mischief at the birthday boy's expense."Freddy, come make a figurine with me." It was neither a question nor a suggestion. Then: "Hey Sundrop, can I use the playdough?" she asked in consideration for Sundrops coveted art supplies. Similarly to Sundrop and Moondrop respectively, Roxy had delicate sensibilities when it came to maintaining a clutter-less environment. The attendant gave his approval with a peppy nod, and so she helped herself.
Freddy obliged his friend and left behind a dejected Gregory who maintained an impressive glaring contest with Roxy. She had never particularly relished the bear's company before (he was too sunny for her), but fighting for his attention with Gregory had become a competition between the two of them. Freddy made it easy enough; he was usually oblivious and easily distracted.
Chica, now bored with the new layout, shuffled off to help Poppy lovingly bestow glittery stickers to the wings of each paper crane.
Gregory refocused on his conundrum, straining mightily over his drawing. He looked so serious.
Vanessa resumed her recording once she was satisfied she wouldn't miss any drama.
"Wow... Not to brag or anything, but Monty has improved by leaps and bounds," she said absently, admiring her handiwork as it barreled back up the escalators Donkey Kong style.
"But anyways, Gregory was turned over to the lovely Officer Byron, who, at the time, I thought was more than capable of handling the little tyrant. I was wrong, and whether it was an overestimation of Officer Byron's skills or an underestimation of Gregory's tenacity that led me to this conclusion… it is an academic footnote now. A word to the seasoned; don't underestimate Gregory. You're welcome on that piece of hard-earned information. In all fairness, I didn't mention the police station's proximity to the Pizzaplex directly.
"Rookie move. He took full advantage of it too.
"And another thing, for the love of everything good in this world, do not let Gregory within spitting distance of a taser. My condolences to Byron... Jesus."
Back to That Time
When they neared the police station, the city was lulled into that time just after the workers had punched their tickets, the rich had begun their charity brunches, and the students were told by their teachers to refrain from sleeping whilst they digested those questionable square-shaped pizzas for breakfast.
It was early afternoon, but no matter which light the city cast shadows in, it would never sit right with Vanessa. She had never cared for it much, and neither did most of its residents. As for any newcomers, the odds and ins of the city's 'charm' made sure to stick its tongue out at them. City living never allowed for a flourish of good graces anyways.
Like most modern cities, it was built for cars, not people, but unlike any predecessors, any hike was an uphill and downhill adversity no matter in which direction one traveled. Like most modern cities, the air quality was the local chemist's ideal sample for experiments of the combustible nature; perfect for the contending pharmaceutical companies to fight for the most lucrative price on inhalers. Like most modern cities, anyone with a sidewalk, alleyway, and/or park bench as their residence was given the whites of passerby's eyes as they were ignored and turned away from. After all, who even carried pocket money anymore? Stuff like that only turned up when it was convenient.
Unlike most modern cities, this one was an amalgamation of hastily built necessities (grocery store, school system, police station, etc) in accordance with the demands of the visitor-turned-resident that, on a whim, decided to call this otherwise bland but suitable plot of American land home. The founders of the city had embraced any immigrants with a hand-shake and a lofty price tag. In saying that, it of course was made in accordance with the refined (AKA out-of-touch) tastes of the upper-middle-class.
When looking up, one had to ask why the American Dream turned so terribly vertical; the buildings were a bunch of rectangular cakes with too many tiers. Any traditional houses were fitted along the outskirts of the city, and those who called them home had to remember to stay within the good graces of their landlords.
But the worst that could be said about the city was that it was built around the Pizzaplex.
Consumer society was achingly gullible; akin to sharks swarming a drop of blood that was supplied via a fisherman with a hankering for shark stew.
Vanessa wondered in passing what this made her in her made-up scenario. Circle of life, sugar and spice. Something like that.
What would that make Gregory?
She very fearfully stole a glance at the boy. It was bizarre just how much sheer life was present in someone that was crying. The tears had never passed, but he still had a random heave in his diaphragm every now and then, even as he slept.
Throughout the drive, she had been trying to conjure up a different plan than the obvious one. She even entertained the idea of letting Gregory camp out in the ice cream truck, but even then, the animatronics would have no qualms on straggling outside, nor would they have any inhibitions on tearing through a vehicle to get to the boy.
Besides, he wouldn't stay put unless she handcuffed him or something to the ice cream maker.
Vanessa did not want to have to worry about his life on top of hers, and hers would most assuredly be on the most parlous of branches. Screw going out on a limb; Glitchtrap's retaliation would be immediate and inevitable.
And Gregory had no part of it.
But then there was ol' Fazbear…
"How're you doing, Freddy?" Vanessa asked at the Fazwatch interface she had to confiscate from Gregory.
"All things are well." Then silence.
"Okay. We're almost there by the way."
"To the police station? Or the Pizzaplex?"
"The station, but they're pretty close to each other. Fat lot of good that ever did."
"And… how is… how is Gregory? Is he okay?
"All things are well," she repeated, took a deep breath, said, "Look, I have a plan on how to wipe out the glitch."
More silence.
"But it comes down to you. Can I count on you for this?"
"Of course," he replied. "But I will need to be reconfigured first."
"That's step number one."
"Then we will do the same for Chica, Roxy, and Monty?"
Another deep breath. "Huh, ok… look, earlier you asked me if your friends can be saved, and that's still the plan, I promise, but we're going to have to hold out on that. Once we start cutting off lines of power to the source of the glitch, he will figure out that I'm no longer his lackey. When that happens, he'll be after my hide, and he'll hack into any remaining animatronic in order to skin me. So, after we fix you up, we need to shut down the S.T.A.F.F bots on top of making sure the Glamrocks are rendered harmless as well; I'm thinking of locking them up in the protective cylinder since it's meant to hold you guys anyways."
"Why will you need my help, then? Perhaps it would be in your best interest if I stayed locked up as well."
"No – there are four master cables that feed into the glitch source's power grid, and they're are as big around as I am, but weigh much more than I do. There's no way I can do it myself, and your systems have been immune to the glitch so far. I can reinforce the requirements to your safe mode if that would make you feel better since I'll be about fixing you anyways."
"That would be best." A pause, then, "Once the source of the glitch is taken care of, will we be free of any further system compromises?"
The steering wheel groaned as Vanessa contracted against it defensively. It was as it was: she did not know. There were too many unknown variables, her alienated alter-ego being one of them… which then led to a question or two concerning the nature of the Fazbear Entertainment games. The glitch's reach was unknown, and with her being unable to reconcile with her memories as Vanny, they were left in the dark. It would have been highly convenient if she had that juicy insider's information, but she didn't.
So, she told him as much.
"It would seem the glitch has broadcasted itself beyond this source you speak of," he said, sounding defeated. "Unless there was a way to wipe the code system-wide, I see no resolution to this."
She shook her head. "We do that and everything will have to be erased. I'm talking hard drives, too, and who knows if there's something off the radar we would be missing? Besides... the code is evidence. I need time to crack it... but I can do it. I'm good at programming. Then it'll be decipherable enough to be classified as readable code, which is viable in court."
"If the code can be copied onto an isolated software, unconnected to the internet like the Pizzaplex is, then would this still work?"
"Uh, Freddy, this would mean we'd have to wipe out your A.I. chip. Yours and the rest of the animatronics."
"I do not want children like Gregory to ever be harmed by the Pizzaplex ever again. My friends would want no differently."
"Last resort, okay? That is our last resort," she said. "The only thing we can do now is terminate the source and figure it out from there, play it by ear. All that matters is eliminating the problem at its' core. If we burn the place down, it'll be rebuilt again, and the cycle will continue. Animatronics will be taken over. Children will go missing. Unless, of course, you'd care to raise Cain against the moral elusiveness of corporate big-horns and sweep the face of economic policy entirely?"
"… I am not exactly sure how that would help us," he replied.
"Non-partisan, I see. I won't hold it against you; I am too. Politics are weird," she attempted to joke, found it pleasant.
"Officer Vanessa, when did this become political? I would really much prefer if it remained otherwise," he asked, sounding very uncomfortable.
She laughed. "It never did, but it's fun to make fun. I'm just pulling your leg."
"Your wit makes me wish my audio sensors got damaged," he quipped back.
"Hmm. So you're telling me that robots made to delight children can dish out a stimulating conversation on top of all that sophomoric humor?"
"I speak to adults all the time, and they have always had a more… dodgy sense of humor. That is Roxy's expertise more so than my own."
"I see, so you're the goofy one," she said.
His tone turned somewhat sharp then, ignoring her mirth completely. "Gregory has not been listening to this conversation, has he?"
"He's asleep."
"That is good." he paused and faltered, said, "I would like to say goodbye to him before we leave."
"Of course, big guy."
They rounded the corner, passed the shouldered shops of various bourne, and locked sights with the station.
"That goodbye never happened. Gregory refused to speak to me, to Freddy, to anyone. This didn't bother me because, lucky me, he was wholly compliant, but in hindsight, that should've tipped me off.
"He didn't plan on saying goodbye in the first place.
"But that was when I knew Gregory wouldn't allow himself to be with just anybody. It had to be Freddy. That 'sophomoric' humor of Freddy's isn't just there for show; he's actually a really good guy - playful and protective, especially with Gregory for whom he has a soft spot for. We can't all be perfect. And Gregory… Gregory is a little shit. Opposites attract I guess. On the night the kid was locked up in the Pizzaplex, he only had Freddy. They had bonded, and Gregory wasn't going to let something as menial as an ultimate A.I. overlord of Terminator proportions get in between him and his best friend."