Just a Burning Memory

Monday 2nd March 2015, 00:00 AM

The mechanical shriek of the night power kicking in might have frightened Mike. Even as the lights throughout the building flickered, like dying fireflies, before being extinguished, he was satisfied to find himself calm. He had been expecting an authentic experience, which would take him back to those nights so long ago.

It almost lived up to his expectations.

Pulling up the cameras from the panels to his right, Mike smiled at the static flushing over the display. Gone was the laptop he'd used so many times and there was another panel the size of his forearm which looked like an in-built tablet. As he turned it on, the only thing that would show up on the black screen were seven lines of green text.

Judging by the text at the start, it was some kind of system reset. Audio devices, camera systems, and ventilation. Mike had to admit that it threw him off, somewhat. Though he found himself vainly hoping that it wouldn't come into play, he had a bad feeling he would be having to use that device. Whatever it involved was something he was not used to.

When the phone started to ring, Mike didn't even flinch. A stab of long forgotten pain flushed through him as he picked up the phone, placing the relic against his ear. Without an utter of greeting.

"He-hey!" Reggie Wood's voice came from the other end, upbeat and chill, "Glad you came back for another night! I promise, it'll be a lot more interesting this time!"

As Mike had been expecting, it was a pre-recorded phone message. However, rather than the nervous, almost warning voice of a man he once called his father, it was the voice of a young man in over his head.

"We found som-some great new relics over the weekend, and were out tracking down a new lead right now!" It was almost funny how he even shared the stutter of his predecessor. Had Reggie listened to the voice of the night guard of old? "So, uhh- let me just update you real quick, then you can get to work. Like, the attraction opens in like a week, so we have to make sure everything works, and nothing catches on fire!"

Glancing around the room he was in, Mike knew that wasn't as much of a jest as Reggie made it seem to be. Whether a deliberate act of negligence or simply enthusiasm taking over sense, the place was a fire hazard.

"Uhm, when the place opens, people will come in at the opposite end of the building, and works their towards you, and pass you, and out the exit. Uh, yeah you've officially become part of the attraction. Uh, you'll be starring as... The Security Guard!"

Pausing for a moment and taking in those words, it almost annoyed Mike how it hadn't quite clicked that he was going to be more an attraction than actual security. Being a haunted house based on Freddy's should have made it obvious. Though he also knew that Reggie had hired him, rather than some college kid, for a reason.

Because no matter how much he pretended otherwise, Reggie clearly knew how much bringing Freddy's back from the dead would generate anger.

"So not only will you be monitoring the people on the camera as they pass through, you know, to make sure no one steals anything or makes out at the corner, but you'll also be a part of the show!" Mike could almost see the giddy smile on the young man's face. "It'll make it feel, really authentic I think."

The way how Reggie spoke only further made Mike sure of his theory that the young entrepreneur had something more than money driving him. The amount of work he'd put into this and the degree he was taking to give an experience that he referred to as 'authentic'…something was driving him.

It was just 'what' that was the question.

"Uh, now let me tell you about what's new. We found another set of drawings, always nice, and a Foxy Head! Which we think could be authentic!" Reggie paused for a second, almost as if to frown, "Then again, it might just be another crappy cosplay. And we found a Desk fan, very old school, metal though, so watch the fingers!"

Glancing over to his desk, Mike eyed the metal fan which spun around. He'd considered unplugging the thing upon first sight, but decided against it. It was unnaturally warm in the building. Having that slight breeze, though simply recycled air, had more positives.

"Uh, heh! Uhm, right now the place is basically just, you know, Flashing Lights and Spooky Props. I honestly thought we'd have more by now, uh so if we don't have anything really cool by next week, we may have to suit you up in a Furry suit, and make you walk around saying: 'BOOO!' Hehe."

Mike snorted at that, knowing he would rather quit and seek other avenues than to do that. Even if the thought of dressing up in a costume similar to the one he nearly lost his life to didn't disgust him, there was no way he was going to walk around in this unconditioned building wearing a fur suit.

"Uh, but you know like I said, were trying to track down, a good lead right now. Uh, some guy who helped design one of the buildings, said there was like, an extra room that got boarded up..? Or something like that. So! Were gonna take a peak, and see what we can find."

His humour suddenly got cut short at that. A hidden room? At one of the Freddy buildings? There was only one hidden room he knew of from a Freddy's building. That compartment in the rebrand from 1987, which he and Caine had discovered soon before their meeting with the Marionette.

The same compartment which the killer, the Purple Man, had used to contain the children he lured away. Should whatever this hidden room be, as Mike doubted Reggie was talking about the same one, the thought of what would lay inside, or what once had laid inside, only sent dread up Mike's spine.

"Uh, for now just get comfortable with the new setup. You can check the security cameras over on your right, with a click of that blue button. Uh, you can toggle between the Hall cams and the Vent cams. Uh, then over on your far left, you can flip up your maintenance panel. You know, use this to reboot any systems that may go offline."

Mike glanced back at the two panels on either side of him. His previous thoughts seemed to have been right. The maintenance panel, something new and unexplored, would be something he would have to use at some point. It was certainly a set-up he was unaccustomed to, but it surely wouldn't be any more complicated than what he'd learnt before.

"Uh, in trying to make the place feel more vintage we have overdone it a bit! Heh heh. Some of this equipment is barely functional! Uh, I wasn't joking about the fire, that- that's a real risk. Uhm, but the most important thing, you have to watch for, is the Ventilation."

To Mike's right, just beside the desk, was an opening. A ventilation shaft. Curious, Mike flicked on to the cameras again and gazed at the map. Connected to several of the rooms were lines he knew were the vents. Big enough to crawl through and spread around enough to act as legitimate pathways.

That fact made him frown. Were they there as merely cosmetics? Or were they built for someone, a guest or maybe even him, to crawl through? He'd once used a vent to barely escape death, but the only time he'd seen vents used in this capacity was at the rebrand pizzeria.

"Look, this place will give you the spooks man, and if you let that ventilation go offline, then you'll start seeing some craaazy stuff man, keep that air blowing! Ok, keep an eye on things, and we'll try to have something new for ya' tomorrow night."

As the phone call disconnected, Mike glanced back at the maintenance panel. During the call, it had started to flicker and a light beep of sound indicated something. Unsure, he clicked on the option 'Ventilation' and a sign of loading appeared over it.

After a few moments, the loading completed and Mike heard the whirring of the vents.

Frowning, Mike had a feeling he would have to keep his eye on that. If that was the only source of oxygen entering the building, he didn't like to think what would happen if he allowed it to falter.

Moments passed and he looked at the clock. Frowning at the time, he found it hard to believe that not even an hour had passed. He knew he needed to be happy about the peace and quiet, but it simply wasn't what he was used to.

As if his body went into auto-drive and his mind numbly went along with the ride, he stood up and walked out of his office. Just across from the doorway to the office, to the side of the Freddy scarecrow, was an archway leading to a small room with a tiled floor. Poking his head in, Mike saw the cubicles inside, realising it was a restroom.

Much like one he'd found himself hiding within after sustaining a head injury, so long ago.

Turning away from the restrooms, Mike continued walking down the hallway, passing the long window which separated him from his office. Old Freddy's posters lined the wall, tattered. A mop and bucket, left forlorn alongside a broken tv with a cracked screen, were placed against the wall.

The next room, the one with a split hallway which led to the same area, had the Bonnie scarecrow placed at the far back. Next to it, hanging from the wall, was the head of Foxy, one brilliant light shining from the eyehole. Looking at them from the longest time, Mike felt sad as he turned and walked down the next hallway.

Unanswered questions raced in his mind. Just what happened to them? Had the Government taken them away, to melt down the endoskeletons? Had it been soon after he'd left, or had they been forced to wait for the guillotine to come crashing down?

Had they suffered?

He remembered the large cardboard box in his office, filled to the brim with old animatronic parts that hadn't been mounted yet. Most of the Toys' costume parts were in there. Recovered from the ruins of their own pizzeria which burnt to the ground, perhaps, or spares that were found in storage. Apart from them was the aged hook and arm that didn't belong to Mangle.

As he stepped through the hallway leading towards a bunch of ancient arcade cabinets, Mike couldn't help but find them peculiar. During his time at Freddy's, he'd never seen an arcade cabinet within those halls. There had been many empty rooms in the pizzeria from 1987, but whether or not they had contained any arcade cabinets wasn't known to him.

Passing the arcade cabinets into another hallway, he looked down at the head of Chica, placed on the floor with its eyes beaming. It hurt him deeper than he had expected to see them like this; his friends propped up and used as nothing more than decorations. Designed to scare. It wasn't fair to them.

Eventually, after turning another corner, he reached the end of the attraction. However, just near the entrance was an opening. A vent, which he remembered as being on the map back in his office. Crouching down, he looked through the vent. Around the corner, flicking his flashlight on and looking down the long tunnel.

It seemed clean enough. Big enough the enter through.

As he pulled himself from the vent, he heard something from behind him. Freezing, he listened closely. Something hit him hard in the stomach as he realised that they were whispers.

Turning to face the other end of the hallway, he saw something out the corner of his eye. Barely a flicker, but it was there all the same.

It almost looked like a top hat, just around the corner. With the red rim that Toy Freddy wore.

Hurrying to the corner, he looked around and saw nothing.

Feeling dread fill his body, Mike tried to deny what he'd just seen. Simply a trick of the light. That's all it had been.

But then he heard that dreaded whispering again and he immediately turned around. Before it disappeared down the vent opening, Mike saw something watching him. It had been small, with a dark red hat which looked almost grimy. It had been staring at him with dark, distorted eyes of pinprick white.

Shaking his head in denial, Mike turned and continued down, knowing he needed to get back to his office. What he was seeing just wasn't real. It couldn't be. Because Balloon Boy had died twenty years ago, impaled by Golden Freddy.

As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the whispering once more. But this time, he understood what it was saying. One simple, heart-breaking word…

Murderer…

Looking over his shoulder, he saw it standing there at the other end of the hallway in which he'd just come through. Staring at him. Watching him with sadistic loathing. The Marionette, taller than him, in the dark. Stained with black and grey.

Then, with one blink, it was gone.

Feeling his breathing becoming laboured, Mike turned and continued walking.

He knew in his heart that what was happening couldn't be real. But it didn't happen. For the first time in many years, Mike was scared for his life.

As he passed the arcade cabinets, something on the screen flickered for a moment that he barely got a glance of. But what little he saw showed the horrifying, warped visage of Chica.

He started to speed up his walking. Down the hallway which was lined with posters of Freddy's and pizza. He heard that whispering again.

You did this to us…

Looking over his shoulder again, he saw the form of Toy Bonnie dart out of sight back into the hallway he'd just come from. Looking around again, he saw Toy Chica watching him from the corner, before she too vanished.

As he reached the split hallway, he looked towards the Foxy head on the wall. Instead of red, he saw white and pink, rotting and mouth opened in a snarl. Those soulless eyes looked at him.

Not giving it another glance, he ran down the hallway. As he turned towards the next hallway, he barely avoided a hooked arm from the corner, swinging to hit him. He swore as he hurried down the next hallway, hearing a cackled laugh behind him. The hooked arm, detached from the body, remained there for a moment before it was gone with a blink of an eye.

As he sprinted down back to his office, he heard the whispering once more. You led us astray, it insisted. Stopping as he reached the end of the hallway, he flicked on his flashlight and stared down towards the end of the hallway he'd just come from.

The disfigured form of Bonnie stood there, watching him. Its jaw hanging off and head dented. Covered in rust and grime. Watching him with nothing more than unending hatred.

Frozen in place, Mike had to muster up the strength to turn and walk away. He hurried back to his office, entering the small space. A loud beeping which hurt his ears greeted him. Steading himself, he tried to breath, tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

He felt the eyes staring at him. Raising his head, Mike felt the stab of horror in his lunges as he saw Freddy on the other side of the glass.

Wires hung out of the crevices in his body. His jaw, lopsided and broken, still moved with the words he spoke in that voice, once friendly and calm. His body was almost green, black stains running down from head to toe.

But it was his eyes that frightened Mike. White and soulless, worse than even Golden Freddy's. The face of an old friend, now something twisted and evil.

You came into our lives, the figure that once was Freddy spoke softly, and you led us to our doom.

Shaking his head, Mike tried to ignore the pain in his ears from the loud beeping. He realised that it was coming from the maintenance panel to the left of the room.

You, Mike Schmidt, Freddy whispered, are the worst thing that ever happened to us.

With his eyes still on Freddy, Mike stepped over to the maintenance panel. The light over the ventilation was flickering red in unison with the beep. Fumbling with the controls, Mike desperately pressed it and it started to load.

And now, we will have our revenge—

As the beeping stopped, Mike heard the whooshing sound of the vents. Closing his eyes and taking in as many breaths as he could, Mike eventually found the courage to open them.

As he did, he saw nothing on the other side of that glass. Glancing between the window and the door several times, seeing nothing, Mike stepped over to the camera controls. He pulled them open, looking through every camera screen.

There was nothing more on any of them that a few props and lifeless decorations.

Lowering the cameras, Mike breathed in several times, trying to calm himself down. He'd been warned of the ventilation, how it could play with his mind. He hadn't realised just how bad it would be.

Looking at the digital clock on his desk, he stared blankly as he realised he still had four more hours to go. He stared at the clock for the longest time.

Monday 2nd March 2015, 06:14 AM

Puddles of rain lay in spots where the roof had started to cave in. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza had been long abandoned and both its reputation—along with the building itself—was nothing more than smoke and ruins.

That didn't stop Reggie Wood's stride, however; he eagerly walked alongside the worker he hired to get that wall down after they'd discovered it to be patched up. It had been very noticeable, with the brickwork and makeshift cement being major red flags.

But of course, it had taken a while to recruit someone with the know-how on how to take a brick wall down in the first place, shoddy workmanship notwithstanding.

Money hadn't been an issue, because of his funding. But finding someone local willing to go into Freddy's had been difficult. The building was littered with ghost stories and those who felt brave enough to enter only did so to spray paint on the walls, or to loot anything they felt was valuable.

In Reggie's case, everything in there was valuable. It was a memorial to Freddy Fazbear's, a long-forgotten wonderland practically built by his uncle. At least, it was in the late eighties. It had only been because of his uncle's savvy business tactics which led to Freddy's surviving after the Bite of '87.

"So, uh…" Reggie spoke up, glancing at the older man with the sledgehammer still in his hand, "you didn't break anything, do you?"

"Apart from the wall?" The man practically scoffed when he called it that, "No."

"Okay, then."

"There's something in there, for sure. Barely got a look at it."

That peaked Reggie's interest, "Wait, really? What did it look like?"

"It's big, that's for sure. Right up against the back wall."

As they approached the opening, Reggie took the flashlight from the worker and shined it within. The room, barely bigger that the backstage room which had long since been looted of everything valuable, had three massive arcade cabinets placed against the wall. There were a few scraps of metal, which looked to Reggie like endoskeleton parts.

Frowning, Reggie felt almost disappointed. Though the parts, and those cabinets, were great finds, he'd been expecting something huge. Ground-breaking, really. But all there was left were just another bunch of broken things.

That was when he spotted it.

His breath shortened slightly as he saw the thing in the corner, opposite the arcade cabinets. It was laid against the wall, a mass of metal. An almost putrid smell was coming from the thing.

But in spite of that, Reggie approached. Smiling.

"Be careful." The worker warned, but didn't seem to want to step in closer.

Standing perhaps a few metres away from the thing, Reggie crouched down. Shining his flashlight at it. There were cracks in the thing, showing wires. But it didn't matter.

"What is that thing?" The worker croaked, eyes wide.

"That, my friend," Reggie beamed, "is an animatronic."

With that, Act 1 is finished. This chapter was originally going to be the start of Act 2, but I decided to change things around due to the size difference.

I will be taking a break from this point. I'm not sure when I'll be back. My motivation had been waning somewhat and I don't think it's fair to any of you, or myself, if I write it without the drive I had during the last two stories. I feel the quality of this one so far had been a bit meh, so I'm wanting to change that.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: It's the interesting thing about new characters. There's a lot of potential, but a lot of room for error. I've got things planned for the two friends Mike brought along. This story's going to be a bit weird, since the last two happened with their respective game's actual gameplay having already occurred. This one's taking place with the gameplay being a major factor, which I'm hoping to do right.

Hopefully it won't be too long until you hear from me again.