Mable: Sorry this took so long, but one of these prompts I hadn't finished and I got busy with The Butcher's Traps. XD Enjoy!

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

12: You Forgot Your Costume

Unlike what was believed, the animatronics did receive routine cleanings. There were different degrees of this with the more thorough cleanings being much rarer.

Commonly, animatronics would be sprayed down with a powerful disinfectant and have anything unsightly squirted with a little cleaner and rubbed down. When they got too filthy to have this matter, their suits would be removed and dry cleaned. Normally, this process took a few hours.

Unfortunately, everything was a little more difficult with Foxy. Foxy purposefully acted up during repairs, sometimes outright leaving his stage and hiding when he knew it was coming, and the damage to his suit meant it was more difficult to clean. Eventually it got to the point that the workers threw their hands in the air, cornered him during the earlier hours on the weekend, and removed his suit.

Since Foxy's suit was in such disrepair, it seemed like a waste to just dry clean and send it back cleaned and tattered. Instead, they sent the suit out for repairs, cleaning, the whole nine yards. Something that would take longer than one day. Which would mean that Foxy wouldn't have his suit all night.

Which wouldn't be a problem if the other animatronics' programming meant that none of the other could recognize him. No matter how much he snarled and yelled, they saw a suit-less endoskeleton.

And he was very aware of what they did to endoskeletons.

Foxy barged into the kitchen and looked around frantically for a hiding spot in the dark. The closest thing he could find was the kitchen island and he scrambled behind it. His whole body felt so flimsy and small, leaving him feeling even more defensive, but he hoped it would also make him less visible.

Unfortunately, that didn't make him any quieter, and it wasn't long before the kitchen door was pushed back open.

"Aww, come out little guy! It's okay, we don't want to hurt you. We just want to get you in a nice, warm suit," Chica cooed.

Though as sweet as she sounded, he knew what that 'nice, warm suit' entailed. It involved all three of them forcing him into a spare Bonnie or Freddy suit, bending his ears, probably breaking his hook- it would be a nightmare.

Unfortunately, his pitiful hiding spot was soon found out. "There you are!"

"Ya come even a step closer, Lass, and I'll capsize this here island and barge right through ya!" Foxy threatened. "Ye better bet yer beak I'll do it!"

"Aww..." Chica cooed, completely unable to make sense of Foxy's words beyond panicked garbling. She turned back to Bonnie in the doorway. "I think he's shy." Foxy groaned, metal clanking as his head dropped into his hand. "I'll get him out!"

No, she wouldn't. The moment she started to close in, Foxy reacted exactly how he had threatened. He threw the kitchen island over into Chica, sprung over it, and made a sprint for the door that Bonnie was standing outside of. Foxy might've lost his sturdiness without his suit, but he was faster than ever, and slid right between Bonnie and the door.

Right into Freddy Fazbear, who tried to trap him in a literal bear hug. Foxy swung out and wound up hitting him directly in the nose with a loud squeak. This staggered Freddy long enough to let Foxy get by and sprint down the hallway. Just a touch faster, just a touch harder to see through the camera, running down a hallway he didn't typically enter.

Foxy was running for his life- or for his skin- and all he could think of was getting away from his band, which was currently hunting him like a common crook.

How tonight was the night that he skirted under the office door and got inside was beyond him, but it had to be some sort of cruel, universal joke, because even with the door slamming shut behind him, blocking the other animatronics from reaching him, he was forced to come face to face with the security guard.

Of course it would be Schmidt.

The man looked absolutely floored as he stared at the endoskeleton from his office chair. Eventually he found his voice. "What the-?!"

"Ya open that door and I be pluckin' out yer eye!" Foxy snarled as he pointed his hook threateningly. The hook being pretty much the only thing differentiating him as Foxy.

Normally, no animatronic would dare speak around a human, but Foxy didn't consider someone as persistent and irritating as Schmidt to be human. Maybe that's why his reaction was equally blunt.

"What the hell happened to you?!" he asked. He then realized the other elephant in the room and added, "And exactly how long has this intelligent speech thing been going on?"

"Don't even start with that, Schmidt. Yer not wantin' to go down that rabbit hole," Foxy firmly dismissed. He then slowly slid up to peer out the window, seeing Bonnie coming. "They be lookin' fer me tonight. Ya can't let 'em in."

"Because I routinely let Freddy walk through my office," Mike said sarcastically as he checked the monitors. Then his head snapped over. "Wait a second! You can talk and think like people, and still you and those three overgrown beanie babies have been trying to break in here and kill me?!"

"I ain't tryin' to kill ya!... Err, they be tryin' to kill you. I just be lookin' to knock that bilge-sucking smirk off yer face."

"Oh, okay. That clears it up. Totally doesn't make me want to give the good captain the heave-ho out the side door," Mike said flatly. His eyes raised to the window as he heard the footsteps outside. He knew it was Bonnie, so he didn't waste the power to turn the light on.

He then looked down at Foxy, who was looking rather pathetic, huddled under the window emaciated and on edge. He always had a hunch that Foxy was purposefully messing with him, but now that he knew he genuinely was Mike wasn't sure what to think. Though he was becoming increasingly curious. He sighed and made his decision.

"Tell you what, Foxy. You can stay in here until whatever that is blows over. Or at least until I'm off the clock. But here's the deal-." Foxy knew there was going to be a catch of some kind, and he was totally unsurprised by what it was. "You've got to tell me what's going on here. And I don't mean why you're streaking through the pizzeria- I mean why you're alive."

Foxy knew someone as stubborn as 'Schmidt' wouldn't take no for an answer. So, he gave a defeated huff of static and, after hearing Bonnie wandering off, turned back to the security guard.

"Ya got yerself a deal, but don't say Cap'n Foxy didn't warn ya..."

What a night to get exposed.

13: It's Me

Neither of them wanted to watch these tapes. Both knew it would've been better to hand them over to the police right away, but unyielding curiosity gnawed at them. They needed to see what happened here, what happened to those missing children, on their own terms. With one of them already shaking from stress, the other sat before the security monitor and played the role as narrator.

"Alright… Let's see what's on here," he said. He clicked on the monitor and pulled up the security footage. Then he began the lengthy of fast-forwarding through hours of footage.

Most of that day went by in a blur and looked almost normal. There was no sign that anything was about to happen. "…Do you see anything yet?"

"Not yet," he said. He continued to skip ahead until he got to the later hours in the day. That was when they expected the crime had occurred, right before closing time when the restaurant was quiet. There were still a few children in the party room, one of them he took notice of. "Wasn't there a blond girl with the missing kids?"

"Yes. I think her name was Susie."

"I see her… In fact…" He squinted and looked over the rest of the children in the room. "I think I found all of them."

The other took a deep breath and came over to look, confirmed, and then stepped back away while running his hands over his face. Looking like they were moments from falling apart. He tried to focus on the video and returned to looking at the monitor with a stoic mask.

"…What are they doing now?"

"Nothing much. A couple are at the Sit 'N' Survive machine. One's at a table. Doesn't seem like anything's wrong…" It was then that he noticed them start to look back towards the door of the room. "Someone just came in. I can't get a good look at them." From the way the camera was angled he could see most of the party room, but not the person standing in the doorway. "Hold on, let me switch cameras."

He switched to the feed of the hallway camera and lined it up a few seconds before the current time. What he saw startled him and was the last thing that he had expected. There, wandering down the hallway and stopping in the party room door, was a familiar golden suit.

"What…?" he muttered. The other man noticed and turned to him questioningly. He glanced at him briefly before his eyes glued back to the screen and he said, "Someone's walking around in a suit."

"What?! Which one?"

"Spring Bonnie. This doesn't make any sense, I thought you said Scott said the safe room was locked. How could someone get to the suits?"

"I don't know. Scott was the only one with a key on duty…" The other got an easy look and asked, "…Does it look like Scott?"

"Can't tell. It's hard to make anything of them." He focused on the video again and cringed as he saw Spring Bonnie beckoning the children through the door. There wasn't any audio in the recording, so he couldn't hear if he was saying anything to go along with it. Then the suited person started to jauntily stroll down the hall before the children followed out behind him. "He's taking the kids with him."

"Where are they going? The front door? The back door? If it was the backdoor, we might be able to catch him from the outdoor camera and see his car."

"That's not where he's going. He's going down the hall towards the bathrooms," he said. Then he noticed exactly where the suit was going but didn't say anything until he was sure of it. He watched the suited person open the door and wave for the children to go inside. "…He's taking them into the safe room."

Ignoring the fact that this was completely against protocol, there was something undeniably sinister about someone stealing a suit and then leading currently missing children into a back room that wasn't supposed to be opened. All while nobody was around to see or notice a thing, nearly in broad daylight. The safe room door closed and because there was no camera inside, hid whatever transpired inside.

A few minutes passed. He began to fast-forward through the footage, watching more of those minutes pass by, seeing others pass through the hall once or twice, but nobody going in or out of the safe room.

"What's happening?" the other man asked. His voice already sounded defeated with a hand clasped over his eyes. As though he knew something horrible was happening in that room.

"I don't know. The door's shut," he answered. He continued fast-forwarding. "…He was in there for hours." The other mutters a horrified swear under his breath. "Don't start panicking on me yet. As far as we know, he was just holding them up there until closing and then snuck them out… That's not much better, but we can still find them." He noticed a man walking down the hall. "Hold on. Scott's locking up."

"So, it can't be Scott."

"No… But it doesn't mean someone didn't get his key. Or that he didn't go in there and leave it unlocked."

"The chances of someone-… I don't know." The other man sounded completely defeated. "I just don't know."

Scott went through the building locking up and turning off the lights. He didn't check the safe room, probably because he assumed it was locked, and without looking he knew that the man walked outside and left. It was at least twenty more minutes before the safe room door opened and the suited man stepped out.

There was something dark on his hands. It wasn't until they got closer to the hallway camera that he realized- his mouth going dry instantly and his heartrate speeding up- it was a rusty red. It was blood.

"…He did something to them…" His voice was so shaken that the other noticed. He was usually calm in even the direst of situations, but now he couldn't make eye contact. "…There's blood on his gloves."

Two things happened right then. The other hustled to the desk to look at the monitor and at almost the exact same time the man at the monitor caught a brief glimpse in the crack of the door. There was a red horror lying beyond it that he couldn't get a good visual on. There was just so much of it. Instantly, his hand shot up to stop the other man's approach.

"Don't look."

"What do you see?! Do you see them?!"

"No. Don't look."

It was more him physically pushing the other back that stopped his fight to see the screen. He changed the camera quickly to both follow the suited man as he wandered and to get away from the view of the safe room. That door always tended to slide open on its own when not closed tight and he didn't want to see what was inside. He was barely keeping it together as it was.

"I'm following him. He's heading towards the front." He kept the other man up to speed even though he was rapidly deteriorating into hyperventilation.

The suited man shuffled drunkenly into the main dining room. At this angle it was clear that there was blood on its feet too, probably from walking in the puddle. It was twitching uncomfortably and scratching at its neck with its bloody hands. Eventually it grew irritated enough to that it began trying to remove the costume's head as it sauntered across the room.

"He's taking the head off," he said incredulously. His heart started to pound hard enough that it hurt. "We're about to get him. We're about to have his face- goddamn it, he just walked into that blind spot on camera three!" He slammed his free fist onto the desk. "He's right there! He's taking the damn thing off!"

"Check- Check camera five. I fixed its angle…" the other said, still horribly shaken. His voice was barely above a whisper as he forced the words out.

He obeyed and switched to camera five. His face lit up as he realized he now had a perfect view of the man taking off the head, standing almost directly in view of camera five, facing it, almost like he wanted to be seen. This was it, now he was going to face the man who had done this. Who had obviously not just kidnapped those missing children. He knew that he was about to look into the eyes of a murderer.

And then he did and it was like the world had stopped.

He broke into a cold sweat instantly. His heart panged harder, hurting, and horror grew inside until it felt like it was choking him. It was a familiar face that lifted its head to stare into the camera, though he had never seen such a wicked smile upon it. It was the last person he could've ever imagined to see and he barely believed it, but he knew the camera wasn't lying. It was all real.

"Who is it?" the other asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he looked over and saw the state the man at the desk was in. His skin had gone pale, his mouth was agape and eyes were wide, and was beginning to shake. Not small twitches in his hands alone but full body shuddering. He was terrified of what he saw. "What happened? Who is it?" the other asked insistently. "Is it Scott? Zeek? You've got to say something-!"

He knew he had to tell him. If he didn't more people were going to get hurt, that much he did know. He slowly turned to his partner and forced out:

"It's me."

14: Fazbear Fright

He wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in this place, wasting hours searching for a way out. Walking down hallways that seemed to wind into each other, following voices that didn't lead anywhere, only to black out and start the whole thing over again the next night. By now, he was certain that there was no way out. That he would be trapped in this purgatory forever.

Until one night Springtrap opened his eyes to find the hallway filled with smoke.

His immediate reaction was a sluggish confusion. He almost thought it was his foggy vision until he looked up and saw how it was collecting on the ceiling. That was a lot of smoke, there had to be a fire raging somewhere in the building.

Springtrap was almost surprised at his complete lack of motivation to get up. He supposed fire should've scared him, especially when he was stuck back in this corner beside a double locked door, but it didn't. If this was going to be his way out, then so be it.

Until he noticed something out the corner of his eye and looked over to see that he wasn't alone. He recognized the black and white form of the Puppet standing halfway down the hall. The real one, not the shadow delusion he sometimes saw in the hallways. He stared at the Puppet and silently wondered why it was here.

Then, he received a partial answer through a single command. Its voice as light and haunting as the wisps of smoke clouding the ceiling.

"Follow me."

Springtrap didn't want to. He wanted to just sit there and ride this out, but the Puppet wouldn't be leaving on his own volition. Seeing no other choice, Springtrap slowly climbed to his feet, his joints aching and his head rising into the stuffy, overheated air. The Puppet turned and started down the hallway, and Springtrap followed with heavy footsteps.

It was by time they were in the second hallway that Springtrap realized the true extent of the fire. The hall it was connected to at the end was totally engulfed in flames that were so bright it was nearly blinding. The Puppet quickly took the doorway in that hall to fully bypass the flames.

"Keep close."

So, Springtrap obeyed. He followed around the corner and into the next hall. The smoke was even worse here and the lights had gone out long around. The crackling of heat and the groaning of the structure was so loud that under normal circumstances he wouldn't have heard the Puppet, if not for it seemingly speaking directly into his head. It went around another corner, he followed.

This hall was in much worse condition. Part of the roof had collapsed behind where they were and while Springtrap could barely see through the smoke, he had a bad feeling the rest of the roof would follow suit. He doubted that would be a quick and merciful death. The Puppet led him to the end and started through the next doorway.

Only to stop when he found that the hall outside of the office was completely in flames. The fire seemed to stick to the floor and billow out of control- Springtrap caught a glimpse and realized that there must've been accelerant dumped here. This wasn't the typical electrical fire, but a purposeful attempt to burn down the establishment.

The Puppet gave a static sound, a frustrated sort of huff, and began to look around a bit more frantically. He spun around once only to stop when he noticed the vent entrance at the end of the hall. He lowered down and peered inside, then threw himself in.

"This way."

It wouldn't be the first time Springtrap crawled through this vent, but he wasn't eager to crawl inside. It wasn't like there was any way out ahead. He took one last look back at the fire, realizing with how it was spreading he wouldn't reach the safety of the first hallway again, and entered into the vent. He crawled along, noticing that the temperature inside was nearly double what it was outside.

He came to the branch where he could go left towards the office, the one he had seen but never gotten inside, and to the left towards the back of the restaurant. He looked to the left briefly, considering taking the vent towards the back, but found nothing but a burning inferno. This time he found himself staring deeply into it.

It looked less like a vent and more like a furnace. One made for bodies, for cremation, and he wasn't sure what he felt. Both terrified of it and enticed, wondering what would happen if it caught him. Morbid thoughts that reminded him of how heavy his body felt in this accursed place.

"Stop that."

The Puppet's firm tone took him off-guard. He looked to the right to see him crouched in the vent waiting for him. His wording, as though he knew what he was thinking- Springtrap groaned and followed after him, if only to quiet him down. The heat burned at his feet as he crawled through the last stretch of vent.

Right as he was about to reach the office, there was a loud groan from above. The Puppet had already slid out of the vent and looked up at the ceiling. He must've seen something concerning as he suddenly leaned back down and began to beckon wildly. Springtrap quickened his crawling, hearing the noises grow in volume, and getting halfway out of the vent before the wall collapsed.

It didn't hurt. Not much did with a body as sturdy as Springtrap's, but it pinned him from the waist down. Part of the vent was caved inwards, the ceiling tiles fell in, and what felt like a mound of rubble was currently laying on his back and waist. He was trapped.

The Puppet made a startled noise that sounded more akin to a broken music box than panic. He wrapped his fingers around Springtrap's wrist and started trying to pull him free with increasing franticness. All while Springtrap was still in shock, staring at the empty office, at the Puppet, and spotting the roaring flames outside the window. They were both going to burn in here...

No, they wouldn't. Springtrap shoved the Puppet back roughly, freeing his arm from his grip. The Puppet stared at him in surprise and Springtrap met his gaze once more. He didn't have to say anything, the defeat in his eyes was enough to make his feelings very clear. He had little fight left in him.

There was a long moment of silence, save the noises of the fire raging around of them. Springtrap laid there against the tiles and tried to take some comfort in how they were still slightly cooler than the heated air around them.

Slowly, the Puppet sunk down to the floor beside him, kneeling on the same tiles. He reached out and gently laid his hand on Springtrap's head. The other flinched but didn't fight it, closing his eyes and accepting the fleeting comfort. Maybe this was going to be how it ended. He could've just closed his eyes, forcibly shut himself down, and gave into this.

Except for the crackling shudder that came from the Puppet. Springtrap's eyes opened again at that. That noise- he didn't like that noise. It sounded too much like crying and that alone stole any brief comfort. Until he spoke,

"Please, Michael. You're all I have left."

It was like a shock shot straight through his spine. It was the first time anyone had said his name in ages. The first time the Puppet had spoken to him not as a guide, but as a brother. It had been so long since they had been brothers.

And he wouldn't be the reason he was crying, not this time.

Fueled by a newfound drive to escape, Springtrap pulled away from the Puppet's grip, planted his hands on the floor, and pushed himself up. He dug his fingers in between the tiles on the floor, getting some amount of grip, and began to fight against the weight holding him down. It didn't take too much struggling before he started to pull free.

As the rubble fell away, Springtrap found himself becoming more determined to get free, fighting against all of it bearing down on him. As though fighting against some sort of cosmic force that had chosen this fate for him. Scrambling and struggling until it gave way and he climbed to his feet.

The fire was still rapidly closing in, but this time Springtrap took charge instead of following behind the Puppet with little drive for self-preservation. Right outside the office stood the last line of defense between them and freedom, another door, one less reinforced than the one he started his journey beside.

Mustering up all his strength, Springtrap rammed the door, only for him to realize that it was left unlocked as it swung open and he staggered out into the lot outside. The Puppet must've unlocked it before he came to get him. Springtrap looked around at the grounds surrounding the attraction before setting his gaze on the tree line and making a run for it. The Puppet followed closely behind.

By time the fire department arrived to try and put out the raging inferno that had been Fazbear's Fright, Springtrap and the Puppet were hidden behind bushes and trees, watching from a safe distance.

Eventually Springtrap grew tired of looking at the place that had trapped him and turned away, finding himself in a familiar scenario: a broken machine having to hide from human sight or risk being trapped once more. He was free, but that freedom came with a price.

"What now?" he asked. His voice was crackly and fuzzy from lack of use. It barely sounded like his voice at all. "Where do we go from here?"

"I'm not sure," the Puppet admitted. "...But I think we should look for Elizabeth."

Springtrap agreed and walked blindly into the trees with his brother at his side. He had to keep moving, for the sake of his family. It gave him something to live for again. For now.