Prologue – Thirty Years

Tuesday 28th February 1995, 01:32 AM

The pizzeria had seen better days.

Though the thought still pestered Freddy like an ache. He knew it in his heart that the old place was long since passed the better days. They had tried to keep the tables and chairs in the dining area set up and tidy. But it wasn't enough to hide the things they couldn't pick up and arrange with care.

Dust and cobwebs, more than he'd ever seen before, settled across the floor. Chipped and missing a few tiles. Below was the cracking concrete foundation. Torn wallpaper and chipped paint exposed the walls that surrounded them. They had tried to cover parts of it up with the drawings still left behind, but it wasn't enough.

By far the worst part was the very ceiling hanging above them. Outside their home, a storm had been brewing and cracks of thunder frightened them. Hard drops of rain pounded above and the small, incidental leaks had grown and grown. Now, water dripped from the ceiling and created puddles.

Though the monsters still dwelled within, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza had been abandoned. They didn't see anyone come in, anymore. Freddy knew the reason for that; the place had been warded off by their wardens. Who had stepped in after the trespassing and property damage had gone too far.

Freddy remembered hearing youths outside. Skittish and excited voices eagerly pressuring each other to go inside. Though none of them did. They had settled on throwing rocks through the windows and spray-painting the walls.

It seemed that the town had finally turned on them. Once the names of those who had died within their home had been exposed. it was inevitable that those who were tasked with keeping them safe would have to step in.

At least they took care of the fire quickly, Freddy pondered to himself. Remembering the attempted arson that could have burnt their home down.

Looking around, Freddy gazed at the members of his family, rusty and slow. They didn't talk a lot anymore. Not since everything that had happened, with Golden Freddy. With the night guards. With their friends.

With Mike Schmidt.

Though it pained him to send their only ally away, Freddy knew he had made the right decision. He could only hope that Michael was off in some distant land, a new life and a new purpose. He had tried his best for them, even after he had suffered at their hands.

Closing his eyes, Freddy's mind once more drifted to the events of the previous year. When Mike had returned with the goal of revenge, but in doing so freed them from the control of Golden Freddy. Those years spent under his control were like a dream…a nightmare. In which they foolishly and ignorantly caused so much pain.

Looking down at his hands with pain, Freddy remembered. How coated with blood they would be after every kill. How he would believe it to be nothing more than the oil from a broken endoskeleton. Not our fault, he would always say, we were just following the rules.

The rules. A laughable concept, used as a shield to keep them wallowing in the dark. Golden Freddy had weaponized their ignorance, for his own goals. He made them kill innocent people, to ease his own pain.

Once they had been freed from that control, he soon struck again and again. Turning them that fateful night in September. Which led to the death of the janitor Wilson and almost took the life of Detective Caine.

Then again, that November. But that was somehow so much worse…he had taken their minds, their words, and turned them foul and evil. The things they had said to Mike and the elder Schmidt, Spencer…evil things.

"We know it's you, numbnuts. We just don't care."

"You thought what? That we were friends with the guy who shot us?"

"At least wait until we're getting your suit prepped for you. Just like last time."

"We just want you dead."

"Dishonesty is part and parcel when dealing with those lower than you."

"We already have your suits ready for you. Would you like to see them?"

Though they hadn't said those words willingly, it still came from their own mouths. Spoken to those they considered friends. They had felt still in control of their actions, but any of the love and good in their hearts had been ripped out.

His mind went to his counterpart. The Toy Animatronic named Fred. Capable and talented, Fred had strived to be worthy of his position. The shoes Freddy had left for him to fill had been large, but they fit Fred's feet like they were meant to be.

He had been smart, capable, and selfless. When it mattered most, Fred had sacrificed his own life to give his family a chance. Freddy knew in his heart that it should have been him, but that ship had sailed before he even knew it was docked.

Sighing, Freddy stared at the open space. Ragged and broken, he still refused to refer to as anything other than his home. The life that had been his long ago was dead and gone. This was his only existence and he imagined it wouldn't be around for much longer.

"I'm going for a walk." Freddy rumbled before stepping off his stage. None of his friends gave a response as he walked down towards the office that once belonged to Mike.

He couldn't remember his name. Had it been George? Or Abigail? Or even Timothy? Though he didn't know who he had been, he never questioned what he had been. As he had once said to Mike, he had accepted his situation and that was that.

No matter how little he relished the idea. His old life was nothing more than a splotch on the horrific canvas of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

As he walked down the hallway, he turned to gaze into the security office. Ransacked, it had been looted of most of the belongings. The desk and fan remained, with the fan curiously still spinning.

But it was the shadow on the wall, through the office and in the hallway opposite, that caught Freddy's eye.

Stopping in his track, Freddy stared at it. The figure, so much like him, calmly left his vision as if it had never been there. Hesitating, he walked through the office and tried to catch sight of the shadow again.

It wasn't there.

What on Earth…? Freddy couldn't wrap his head around what he'd seen. Was it his own shadow? A trick of the light in his waning mind?

Though he wished it so, he knew it wasn't the case. What he had seen was not a mistake.

He has been gone for four months, Freddy told himself to calm his nerves, and they buried him. He's gone.

But he knew he couldn't be certain. Nothing about Golden Freddy followed any sort of logic that he knew. All they had in their grasp were theories and assumptions. Perhaps they had stopped him from achieving his goal, but how could they know if they truly defeated him?

Shaking his head, Freddy marched back down the hallway. He was about to reach the end, where he would demand if anyone else had seen the shade, when he noticed the marks on the wall.

Pausing, Freddy would have frowned if he had lips. Gazing at the markings, he saw the arrangement of letters, scratched on the wall. They didn't make any sense. The only piece he understood were the five letters at the end, reading 'click'.

Closing his eyes, Freddy felt his frustration rising at his inability to understand. Were Mike there, Freddy knew it wouldn't take the night guard long to decipher it. The boy underestimated his capability.

Freddy turned to look at the other wall, where more strange symbols were scratched onto the wall. Stepping closer, he recognised the shapes as being squares. Four sets of four, where each set would be paired with three grey and one yellow.

He knew giving up so quickly was rather embarrassing. Freddy also knew that he did not have the patience these days. Making a point to get down to the bottom of whoever made those symbols, Freddy continued towards the dining hall.

That what when he saw the shadow again.

Stopping in his tracks, Freddy stared at it. Yet, the shade barely gave him a glance before turning around and walking into the hallway leading to the restrooms.

What did this being want? Freddy felt his hesitation grasping his legs like cement, but he knew as the patriarch of the family, he needed to confront a threat directly. Marching towards it, Freddy stepped into the darkened hallway. His eyes, glowing, lit up his path.

Did the shade that looked like him have an agenda? Did it want him to follow? If so, for what reason?

Stopping in the archway that led to the restrooms, Freddy glanced at the police tape running along the two pillars. As far as he was aware, they had put this tape up sometime after Mike had left. To restrict certain areas from the pizzeria, he believed.

But this was his home. He chose where he could and could not go. No more rules, unless they made sense.

Stepping through the tape, Freddy continued on and found himself in the darkness. To his right, the restrooms. He had hidden in them many times, during their misguided hunts.

To his left, a dead-end. A cement wall, that would stand there—

—open?

The sight made him freeze. Rather than the solid blocks of brick lining the wall, the blocks lay there smashed. As if someone had taken a sledgehammer and swung with the strength of Atlas.

Had Freddy possessed lungs, they would have seized up. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward. Behind what once was a brick wall stood a room, empty and dreary. He tried to push forward, but something stopped him.

My legs…He wondered; I can't move them…

That was when the flashes in his head told him. A birthday party, where he sat with his friends. Laughing. Partying. Eating the pizza.

So caught up in the lights and fantasy, that it had taken him a moment to see the rabbit.

The rabbit had stood tall, towering over him. Firm, but not unkind. Talking in a wacky, funny voice. Talking about a special party, just for him.

Ushering him out of the view of his parents, towards the restrooms.

Towards this very room.

No, Freddy shook his head, no, it's not possible. It can't be…

Mouth wide open, Freddy backed away. So caught up in his shock, he renewed grief at his fate, that he didn't hear the footsteps.

He turned, raised his arm to defend himself. But he was too late.

The axe smacked him hard on the head, and a flash of static overcame his vision. He fell down to one knee, but another swing knocked him down to the floor.

No…

He fell onto his back, tried to reach upwards, but another swing pierced his outstretched hand. Sparks flew out as his hand toppled to the ground.

No…

He tried to scream, to yell out with all of his might, but the axe buried itself into his jaw. Nothing more than gargled static came from him mouth as his attacker brought the axe down again and again. One by one, his limbs were dismembered.

Across from him, his fallen top hat had toppled onto the floor.

Trying to blink, he stared upwards. At the face of his attacker. Smiling and relentless.

At the face of the man who, once upon a time, had lured him away and taken his life. Now he was here, once again.

The Purple Man raised his axe above his head.

Bonnie, Freddy pleaded his thoughts as his eyes widened, Chica, Foxy, stay safe. Please, stay safe. Mike, Mike, wherever you are, live your life. Please, take my life, but don't hurt my family. Don't hurt my family. Don't hurt my

don't

family

Err

Friday 27th February 2015, 13:32 PM

He scratched at his rough goatee as he took another sip from the warm coffee cup in his hand. Frequently visiting Terry's Café had given him a dependency on caffeine, but he preferred having the buzz over sleeping in.

Setting the cup down, the man stretched his stiff ankles before looking back down at the newspaper on the table. The usual spiel of political nonsense, occasionally adjacent to the good or bad news which typically involved another reminder of how terrible life was littered the black lines on the paper.

Though he knew it would probably be cheaper to just read the news on some website, he preferred the old ways. It seemed more detrimental than anything else, but sitting there in that café, sipping at his coffee and reading the tattered, water soaked newspaper whilst the rain battered against the windows gave him a sense of normality.

These days, Mike Schmidt struggled to find something so simple.

He'd lost his job, a couple of days ago. It hadn't surprised him, of course. When he'd signed the contract six months before, he'd been informed that it was merely temporary. Just for the winter, they'd told him. Nevertheless, being given his pink slip had been a blow.

Though it was a low, Mike knew he'd been in this position many times. It wasn't like he had ever been in a job for longer than a couple of years. Odd jobs and contract work was what he was best at. The occasional construction work here, a little bit of security there. One point, he'd even been a police informant.

So many years and so many jobs had passed him by. Yet, no matter how silly it was, his mind frequently went back to that pizzeria.

Shaking his head, Mike grunted as he took another sip. He was about to get up and head back home, when something stopped him. Around him, the café was quiet, with only two or three other patrons inside. Other than the music from the 60's style jukebox and the steam from the coffee machine, there was hardly even a whisper.

Glancing back down at the newspaper, Mike felt that pressuring thought in his mind. Just another page, it said, then you can leave.

Sighing, Mike turned the page. Another bunch of drivel and unfortunate news littered the page, reminding Mike how hard life was and how easy it could all end—

The sight of the article in the bottom right froze him in place. Staring down, he felt the chill in his spine and the pain in his throat.

That chill turned into fire, and he felt the boiling anger rise in his chest. Getting up, he left his bill on the table and walked out into the rain, pulling his hood up.

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mike glanced up at the cloudy skies, scowling. It had been raining all week and the drenched clothes in his apartment hung up to dry were quickly piling up. Passing the occasional pedestrian and avoiding the edges of the sidewalk so that a splash from an over speeding car wouldn't soak him, Mike headed north.

The memory of that pizzeria once more played in Mike's thoughts. Both the good and the bad flashed in his eyes, like it had only happened yesterday. He almost smiled as he remembered the jokes, the stories. He winced when he remembered the mistakes and the misjudged decisions.

He closed his eyes in anger, fighting back tears, when he remembered the tragic endings.

It almost shocked him how it had been twenty years since that day he left Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for what was the last time. So much time had passed that Mike had almost stopped remembering how things had played out. How things had escalated so quickly, in ways that made him consider committing himself.

However much he tried and whatever else he had faced; nothing would ever seem more insane than ghost bears and life-giving puppets.

Continuing down the path, Mike eventually reached the unassuming apartment complex on the east side of town. Pushing the wooden door open, he headed up the flights of stairs all the way to the seventh floor. Towards the back of the building, a red door with the number seven, etched in brass, sat at the end of a hallway.

Unlocking the door, Mike sighed as he pushed it open and stepped inside, ripping his drenched coat off his body and hanging it on the rack over the bathtub inside the restroom. He'd made a point to do so after the floor near the door had started leaking.

Locking the front door, he took his shoes off and walked down into the living room. Inside, a man sat at the computer chair, typing away, whilst a woman he was talking to was using the pull-up bar she had set up in the back.

They were talking to each other, so Mike decided to keep quiet and listen in.

"Yeah, that thing over in New Jersey was a bust," the man said without taking his eyes off the computer, "Might be a false alarm, but the owner seemed shady, didn't he?"

"Shady?" The woman snorted as she lifted herself up again, drops of sweat dripping down her forehead, "Shady is someone tiptoeing, ankle-deep at most. That guy was neck deep."

"Reasonable grounds, Ella. If we didn't get access to that evidence without trespassing, it ain't gonna hold up in court."

"Yet I get a parking ticket for being two minutes over."

Mike couldn't help but smile, "Two minutes? Pretty sure it was closer to ten."

The woman dropped down from the pull-up bar and stretched her arms. "So the golden boy returns. Had your fix, yet?"

"What can I say? I like Terry's coffee."

"Understatement of the century." the man sitting at the desk mumbled, before raising his voice. "You heard us talking about that garage in New Jersey?"

"Aye," Mike nodded before sitting down at the dining table, plopping the newspaper down.

The woman snorted as she sat down opposite, "Is this where you gloat? 'Mike's always right', after all."

Mike smirked, "I'll let you off this time, Michelle."

"I told you, call me Ella. Why, oh why, did you have to be named Mike? Makes this confusing."

"Me? I'm ten years older than you. If anyone's the copycat…"

"Yeah," She gave that charming smile, "but I make it work."

Mike chuckled lowly before growing quiet, his smile dropping. Opening the newspaper, he glanced at the article again, "I've, uh…got some business to attend to."

Seeing the look on his face, Ella frowned. "Personal, or Seeker?"

Seekers. That was the name she and Jack had chosen as their unofficial title. In their own words, they wanted it to be their identity, a name that stood for something. Chills through the spines of every corrupt business owner in the country.

Mike thought it sounded like a silly boy band.

"I suppose a little bit of both, but I'm heading there on my own." Knowing how his two friends worked, that their curiosity wouldn't be sated. Mike sighed as he pushed the newspaper forward.

Looking at him with a raised eyebrow, Ella looked down at the newspaper and read it. "What, that casino guy? Just because he doesn't want to do The Apprentice any more, people think he's going to run for President?"

"Not that," Mike said grimly, pointing a little bit downwards. "it's at the bottom right."

Confused, Ella looked down. He could tell the moment her eyes settled on the page, because they went hard and she went quiet. Looking back towards them, Jack noticed the silence and cleared his throat.

"What's the matter?" He asked, seeing the stone faces on them.

"Fazbear Frights." Ella read, her voice uneasily quiet, "The Horror Attraction."

Blinking, Jack quietly got up from his chair and walked over to them, peering down at the newspaper. None of them said a word at first, and Mike looked at their souring expressions. He knew what they were feeling.

"Local amusement park is getting ready to scare your socks off with a new attraction based on the unsolved mysteries of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." Jack continued to read. "Featuring actual relics from the decades-old pizzeria this new attraction is guaranteed to bring back your childhood in the worst way possible."

"They're…" Ella shook her head in disbelief, "They're really doing this. Aren't they?"

"Or trying to." Mike agreed, "It might just be an independent venture. Some college kids, trying to make a haunted house and stirring up controversy to make a quick buck. It might get closed down before it even opens."

Ella scowled, "It has to be. There's no way they can get this thing open. Right? Fazbear Entertainment were crucified twenty years ago. You know that, Mike. You were there!"

Seeing her anger, Mike chose his words carefully. "What you have to remember is that not all the details were made public. I only know what I know because I was involved. The Broken Circuits Incident. The Marionette and Golden Freddy, what the animatronics were…it's only because I was there."

"You got Jeremy Fitzgerald exonerated. The killings of the Night Guards, too. Even if the Missing Children's Incident was forgotten about. Anything with Fazbear Entertainment's name on it is burnt to the ground!"

Sighing, Mike sat back. "It's been twenty years since I left. Thirty years since the Missing Children's Incident. You know how people work, Ella. Everything that happened died down because they lost interest. Bigger things happened. And not all the facts came out."

Glancing back at the article, Mike couldn't help but stare at the image. The unmistakable form of Freddy's head. Propped up and lit like a jack-o-lantern, sent chills through him. Was that the spare head, many of which sat in the backstage room all those years ago?

Or was that the discarded head of his long-forgotten friend?

"I know that look." Ella said, staring at him, "You've got something planned."

Slouching down, Mike looked at the two of them. They'd met four years ago, in separate locations.

Jack O'Driscol, once a hacktivist. Always a hacktivist. Mike had been pursuing a lead on a tech company selling their clients' secrets. He'd needed someone able to get through their security. It had taken a while for Jack to trust him, to see that he wasn't something trying to lure him into a trap.

Jack wasn't who he said he was and Mike had worked him out eventually. In some ways in which Jack himself didn't know he knew.

Then there was Michelle Lang, an army veteran and a fellow motorcyclist. They'd met in a bar out in New Mexico. She'd been having trouble with some dealers out there. After he had helped her out, he offered her a role in the team.

Mike looked at them and they looked back. The simple fact was, he trusted them because he knew who they were. They had as much reason as he did for doing this. Just as much at stake and just as much pain.

The least he could offer them was the truth.

"I've talked about the animatronics before." Mike spoke hesitantly, "About my job in the night shift. About how…um, my shifts were. You already know some of what they were like, but I don't think I've told you the whole story."

Ella looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "What's there to tell? They tried to kill you. Then you went in one day and shot them."

"They did try to kill me," Mike agreed, "but only before the Broken Circuits Incident. They were under the influence of something…abnormal."

"Abnormal?" Michelle demanded, scowling.

Mike tried his best to explain what went down back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. He made a point to try and avoid the paranormal, omitting the literal ghost aspect.

How he had received help from an unlikely source. Through that, they had confronted the true culprit.

"This Golden Freddy…" Michelle asked him, her words cold, "You've mentioned him a few times. That Marionette, too. What were they?"

"Simplest way to put it?" Mike sighed, "They didn't belong here. And when we got involved, tried to put an end to it, we suffered. My dad…I lost my dad. And Benji…that was where he lost his arm."

Seeing the look Ella and Jack exchanged, Mike looked away. His mind went to his childhood friend. Benji, who he had left his hometown with to start a new life. They'd been talking about setting up a farm or something, going off-the-grid and living off the land.

As pretty an idea it had been, Mike had accepted that it wasn't who he was. As much as he hated to admit it, his life wasn't meant to be lived peacefully and without trouble. He needed something more in it. That spark of purpose, of feeling like he was making a difference.

He never felt more alive than when he was working to put an end to Fazbear Entertainment.

But that hadn't meant he'd abandoned Benji. The two of them still remained in contact and went on the occasional hunting and shooting trip. As it turned out, stalking a deer was somewhat like surveying a corrupt business. Just required a little bit of finesse.

Mike knew the reason why Jack and Michelle had joined him on the venture. This purpose to be the voice of the voiceless. To strike back against those who sought wealth and power through the sorrow of others. It was because they had just as much reason to as he did.

You can take the man out of the activism, Mike had said to Jack when he'd offered their partnership. But you can't take the activism out of the man.

Mike knew that this was supposed to mean something for them. He also knew that his position towards Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was different to theirs. They had just as much reason to hate Fazbear Entertainment, but it was more complicated than that.

"The animatronics weren't just your enemies, were they?" Michelle finally called out, her eyes wary, "They were something else."

Staring at her, Mike nodded. "Yep. They were."

"Just what were they?"

"They were my friends."

Neither of them said anything at first. Whether they wanted to say anything. Angry or otherwise, was something their faces didn't betray. Sitting there at first, watching their every move, Mike relaxed against his chair.

"After I shot them, I freed them from whatever control they had been under. You've got to understand, I didn't exactly trust them. Not a moment went by that I didn't wonder if it was all an act. To get me to let my guard down. For them to finish what they started."

"But those nights turned to weeks. When I watched them, no longer driven to hunt me, I saw something. Something different. They were…well, weird. Like cartoon characters turned to life. I was stuck in limbo. I was stuck between my hatred for what they had done to me and my confusion on what I was seeing."

"By the time it was all over, I had accepted them for what they were. Not the monsters I had nightmares about. They were imperfect. They were curious. They were weird. But above all else, they were genuine."

Glancing back down at the newspaper, Mike felt that rage come back up. "They made mistakes, some of which they had no control over. They were punished for it and they accepted that. I'd rather they be forgotten than be propped and posed like this."

Hearing their silence, Mike nodded in acceptance at what they were feeling. "I get it if you don't feel the same. You've both got your reasons for hating Fazbear Entertainment. But I've got mine and I let go of my hatred for those four a long time ago."

"After everything that happened, the least I owe them is to find answers. To put an end to the mystery that has ruined so many lives. But I owe it to myself, too. My life was thrown into chaos because of what happened twenty years ago."

Standing up, Mike saw that the rain was still pouring down outside. The living room window steamed and dripping. "Like I said before, this is both personal business and Seeker business. You two can stay here. I have to go. This isn't something I can avoid."

Walking away, Mike grabbed his wallet, ID, and the very few belongings he would need to take. He grabbed his motorcycle helmet and put is soggy rain coat back on, before walking back to the front door.

Before stepping out, he glanced back at them. "I'll be gone for a few days. Maybe a few weeks. I'll keep in contact."

Then he walked out of the apartment, closing the door. It was time for him to go home.

Back inside, Jack and Michelle remained sat down at the table. Both staring at the news article. Digesting the words and the revelations. Accepting the truth that their friend and business partner had revealed to them. Eventually, Jack spoke up.

"You doing okay?"

Ella snorted, "That a serious question?"

"Okay, then. Here's one: We staying here?"

"Oh, hell no."

Jack smiled. "Thought you would say that."

Guess who's back. Back again. Civil's back. Tell a friend.

Apologies for the gap between the end of the last story and this one. I've basically got the whole story planned out. I should make you all aware right now that I've recently got a new job and I'm working between twenty and thirty hours a week, so uploads probably won't be frequent. Don't worry; they'll come.

jojr0712: Appreciate it! Things are certainly going to get a bit hectic in this one. We've got Springtrap, serial killers, and reality-bending Atari games.

Fantom Knight: It's certainly going to be interesting, writing Springtrap. I still remember when the fanbase called him Salvage. Good times...

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Absolutely agree with you that I didn't explore the animatronics enough. Honestly, I wanted to and I had many ideas juggling around, but I was trying to keep the word count below 100K. I've got a spin-off short story series planned and I'm thinking about expanding on characters I neglected. Lawson is certainly not completely gone and the animatronics deserve a little more love. Gift of Life was certainly not perfect and I would like to go back one day and improve it, but I'm just happy I got it complete.

I'm planning for this one to be somewhere between Joy and Gift in size. We're in completely unmapped territory now, so let's get to it!