Act 2 – Painful Echoes

Thursday 2nd March 1995, 03:42 AM

Years together had made the halls they wandered within seem so small, so limited. Chica couldn't even count the times they had bumped into one another on the way down from a room, or how they would so often seek a place to be alone, just to end up face-to-face upon turning a corner, or finding someone there, already claiming their spot.

Now there were only two of them and the place never seemed to get any bigger.

To say that Chica was worried would have been an understatement. Any sort of worry had passed by the moment Freddy had gone missing, vanishing after taking a stroll. That worry had turned to aghast when Bonnie had failed to return. She had waited for hours, and those hours turned until the night had passed.

When day had failed to bring Bonnie home, Chica knew in her heart that he wasn't coming at all. Something had happened. Something bad. Whatever had taken Freddy had also claimed Bonnie, Now, all there was left was her and Foxy.

Glancing nervously at the opening in Pirate's Cove, Chica mustered up the courage to pull open those curtains. Light from the hanging bulbs spilled in, illuminating part of the cove, but the rest remained in darkness. Towards the back was the metal frame of her despondent friend. Chica knew he would be no help; Foxy had shut down after Mangle's death.

But she didn't have any other option.

"Foxy?" She called lightly, trying and failing to keep her stress out of her voice, "Foxy, can you hear me?"

No reply was muttered from the darkness, but by the shuffling and scraping of metal, she knew he could. "Foxy, something is…something bad has happened. Bonnie's not come back. Freddy and Bonnie, they're…I don't know. I think something's happened to them."

Although he didn't say anything, Chica could barely make out the slightly movement in which she interpreted as a nod. "I can't…I can't stay here and not know. I'm…I'm going to go find them."

Finally, a voice. Barely a growl, more of a croak. "There's somethin' in 'ere, lass. With us. Somethin' has come to claim our souls."

Chica paused at that. Although the thought that something, or someone, had done something to their friends, she had just misplaced it as an isolated, paranoid idea. "You think…there is someone here? Do you think it's Golden Freddy?"

"Maybe." Foxy muttered, "Lass, ye might not like what ya find. Stay. It'll do ye no good, wandering these halls."

Although she wanted nothing more than to take his advice, something stopped her. "I'm sorry. I have to. If they're in trouble…"

"It be a fool's errand."

"I have to. They're family."

Foxy finally looked at her. Something flashed in his eye and he nodded. "Gods guide ya, lass."

It took everything Chica had to turn around and walk away. She wanted to ask for Foxy's aid, to have someone with her as she entered those dark hallways. But above all else, this was her home. The one place she was meant to feel safe. The moment that was taken away from her was the moment she would finally lose all hope for this life they had built for themselves.

Stopping at the entry to her right-hand hallway, she took tentative steps further into the darkness. Keeping her eyes open the whole time, looking for even the slightest movement. She was expecting to feel different, as if the very atmosphere of the place she had called home for half a decade would be different.

Yet it felt the same as every other time. If it hadn't been for the unknown fate of her friends, she would have never suspected that something was amiss. As she continued down, however, she felt that there was something amiss with her environment. Something there that wasn't meant to be.

Looking to her right, she saw the scribbling. Numbers, large and white, that had been scratched onto the very walls. Bewildered at the sight, she stepped back and saw the full number it left behind.

Scowling, for a moment she forgot about her worries and instead became concerned about who had defaced the walls and why. Shaking her head, she decided that it was something she would need to worry about later.

She felt the presence of the uninvited guest before she even turned around. Glancing behind her, her eyes fell onto the purple shade which stood there at the entrance of the very same hallway she had just walked down from. With eyes as black as night, it stood unmoving, as if searching for something simply by examining her.

Chica felt her through go stiff as she took in the sight of the motionless shade. As it turned away from her, disappearing from sight, she felt life spring back into her gears and her voice, croaky and fearful, called to it.

"Wait!" She spoke aloud, barely above a yell, "Come back!"

The figure didn't return, so she hurried to catch up with it. By the time she reached the end of the hallway, it had reached the edge of the dining area, approaching the restrooms. She went to catch up with it, but as she headed there, something was on her mind.

Something about this didn't sit right with her. Though her steps, now dull and heavy, continued to follow, she knew in her heart that there was something off about this. Almost like she was encountering that word that humans had occasionally mumbled or joked about.

Déjà vu?

She hadn't even needed to spot the things lying on the ground before she remembered. Though the site of her friends, dead on the ground, certainly plunged a dagger of despair into her heart, it was the memory of that day, so long ago, which made her realise.

The memory of being lured to your death.

She tried to turn, to run away, but she felt the shadow behind her move faster than she could. Something sharp pierced her leg and she fell to the side of the hallway before she could escape. Before her attacker could strike again, she changed course.

She headed deeper into the hallway, towards the opposite end of the room. Panic enclosed her. It overwhelmed her, to the point that the fact that Freddy and Bonnie were dead merely a few yards away from where she'd just come from hadn't truly set in yet.

Behind her, the sound of scraping metal send shivers down her spine. She struggled to breathe. Not wanting to look behind her to see what the scraping was, she pressed on, ducking into the restrooms. She tried to turn, to make her next move.

But the damage done to her leg finally gave way and suddenly, she couldn't move it. A cry of despair came unwillingly from her mouth as the leg collapsed, and she fell over.

The scraping metal got closer and closer.

No, Chica pleaded, no, please.

The man stepped into the restrooms, and horrible look on his face. In his right hand was an axe, as big as his arm. He held it facing downwards, the head pressed down on the floor as he walked. Turning to look at her, he hoisted the axe up, with both hands grasping the handle.

"No." She heard herself speak, "Please, please don't."

But he approached her without even a single morsal of remorse, raising the axe again.

Please, she begged over and over, her chest feeling so tight, I don't want this. I don't want to die again. Please, please, don't do this. I don't want this. I don't want—

don't

die

Err

Monday 2nd March 2015, 14:12 PM

It hadn't taken Caine long to dig up what he was looking for.

He had taken the initiative as soon as he'd met Mike's friends, Michelle and Jack, to look into their histories. Digging up everything he could from them. In such a case as anything relating to Fazbear Entertainment was, the last thing he needed were unknown variables.

Knowing what Mike would say didn't change that. Though it was understandable that Mike trusted them, and likely had his own personal history and experiences with them, it didn't make Caine trust them. Trust wasn't something that could be freely thrown around; it was earned.

In the past, he had made mistakes. Trusted the wrong people, assuming that every scared passer-by or helpful hand was who they would say they were. Those mistakes had almost gotten him—and other people—killed. On some occasions, it had gotten someone killed.

No, Caine had told himself when he'd parted from Mike, this is the right call.

It didn't matter what he and Mike had, in the long run. He couldn't compromise his way of doing things. Because however much he wanted to pretend otherwise and he could never admit it to Mike, things weren't the same as twenty years ago. He was older. More experienced, sure, but only getting slower.

And with a lot more to lose, he mused to himself. Before, he only had one person he'd be leaving behind. Now he had four. That wasn't even mentioning how his fellow operators would react if something happened to him.

No, it was better this way. If Mike was right on the money about his friends, that Michelle and Jack were just as every bit as trustworthy as he seemed to believe they were, there wouldn't be any problems.

So there Caine stood, having chosen a side alley to review the files he'd retrieved. Though no longer a member of the Crucible, he still had a few contacts and a lot of unclaimed favours. It hadn't taken long for them to make good on those favours, gifting him the dossiers of information on the two subjects.

He'd chosen that side alley, rather than going back to the headquarters Mike had set up, for obvious reasons. The last thing he needed was one of them walking in on him with a fistful of secrets on them. At best, they would react with anger. At worst, should he find something on them they'd rather keep a secret…

Shaking his head in dismay, he leant against the brick wall, his long, brown coat pulled against him. His hat, one he'd worn half his life, kept the rain from his face. There was a slight chill in the air, even with the layers he was wearing. The alley remained abandoned, litter and other questionable stains and objects on the walls and the floors.

He'd been in worse places.

Choosing to look into Michelle first had been an easy choice, mostly because she was the one he doubted the least. At most, he could maybe see a few lies sprinkled in there, potentially the case of stolen valour. He'd been almost impressed when he found neither.

Thirty two years of age. It might have unnerved him that she'd have only been in middle school when the Fazbear Conspiracy case had first opened. Even more that she would've only been four years old when the murders happened. But his age wasn't something he was ignorant of, which he was sure Mike would relate to.

Graduated with honours, Michelle's list of accomplishments was impressive. The route she was heading towards, Caine would have predicted her next step would have been college. Yet it seemed she had chosen a different path; by the age of eighteen, she had enrolled with the Marine Corps.

As Caine pressed further into the dossier, her decision's motive became clearer. A Military child. Dad fought in the Gulf War, didn't make it home. New Yorker, from Queens. Attended a school there. Last year of high school started in 2001.

All the motivation in the world to want to follow in her dad's footsteps.

Ten year service, ended with an honourable discharge in 2010. Reading between the lines, Caine suspected it to be due to medical reasons. Several of those years as a mechanic, a few on the frontlines.

Caine sighed as he put the dossier away, finally feeling the guilt of his snooping. Likely typical case of a veteran returning home, not the same as they were when they left. He'd seen it more times than he'd like. Some would retreat, trying to find some solace in the normal life, with a normal job, trying to find that stability which had been wrenched away from them.

Others would never be able to find that, and would choose instead to throw themselves into trouble. She wasn't the first veteran-turned-activist that Caine had met. The only problem, as he pondered, was the chance that she could endanger herself or others.

Grimacing, Caine knew that he would need to keep an eye on her. But if his assumptions were correct when it came to her character, he knew she wouldn't be a liability so long as she kept her head.

As rich as that sounded, coming from him.

Next up was Jack. Putting the files away back in his coat, he started to take out what little he'd found on the mystery known as Jack O'Driscol. There wasn't any point beating around the bush; Caine didn't trust him. The moment he laid eyes on the man, sitting at his desk, he could tell that there was something he was hiding.

However hypocritical it was to be mistrustful towards someone hiding something about themselves, it was simply the bread and butter of being a detective. People always kept secrets, no matter how stupid or embarrassing. The key was figuring out whether that secret was a severe and important part of the person.

Jack was full of secrets. That much was obvious. But just what were they?

He opened the first file and he was shocked. Over twenty years of doing this sort of work, and he was actually shocked. Because within the dossier given to him, with all the information, history, and any known facts about Jack O'Driscol including his day of birth, family, and work history were all in a simple, one page file that was about half-filled.

That was all there was.

It was almost enough to make him seethe. He'd seen introverted freshmen with more information in their dossiers. Even the most wanted men on Earth, who would try their best to eliminate any and all intelligence about them to avoid being caught, would have at least a few pages in theirs.

Caine's contacts were some of the best at digging up even the most subtle detail about people. Back in the days of the Crucible, they would give him massive folders filled to the brim for any and all subjects he requested to be surveyed. Lamarck had used them.

So, how exactly did some forty-odd hacktivist manage to end up with barely a few paragraphs to summarise what should have been decades of life experience?

If Caine hadn't been suspicious about him before, it would have been unavoidable now. It was clear that Jack had been able to wipe his slate clean somehow, probably getting a new identity in the process. It wouldn't surprise him if the hacker had gotten a new name. With no family history whatsoever, the only thing that could identify him would be a DNA sample.

Assuming that the identity that sample would lead to hadn't been erased.

Giving a grumpy sigh as he put the files away, Caine knew he needed to keep an eye on Jack. Without knowing who he was, there was no way he could guarantee that anything he said was the truth.

At the same time, could he really afford to spend any more time on him, when Mike was relying on him to make good on his side of the investigation? All he could do was go with the assumption that Jack wouldn't cause any trouble into he could find what he was looking for.

Until then, it seemed that Fazbear Entertainment was Caine's next stop. They had a regional headquarters nearby, but it was probably for the better if he went for a softer target first. The last time he'd hit them hard, they had sent Dutch Lawson after him.

Leaving the alleyway, Caine started to stride through the pedestrians as he considered his options. They had a few warehouses back during the nineties, but from what he could gather, most of them got shut down after the animatronics were repossessed.

It was probably for the better if he first determined what was still available to—

He stopped, frowning, when his phone started to ring. With a hesitant glance around, he took the phone from his pocket and opened the cover open. Seeing the name on the phone, his frown only deepened. Answering the call, he held it to his ear.

"Has something happened?" He immediately asked, worry creeping in his voice.

"No. We need to talk."

"What is this about?"

"Not here. We're at a cafeteria, just in the middle of town."

That made him scowl. "Hang on, you're here? God damn it, we talked about this!"

"Wasn't my decision."

"They made you come? Tell me, right now: Are any of them here?"

The voice hesitated. "No."

"Then why are you here?"

"You know who's with me, boss."

He hesitated for a moment, before sighing and rubbing his face with his free hand. "Of course. Fine. Which cafeteria is it?"

"The one just off the road south of the old Freddy's."

"Fine. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Ending the call, Caine had to resist the urge to scream in rage. Of all the things. This was the last thing he needed. Changing direction, he started to quickly walk deeper into town, towards the meeting. He had no idea what was going to be said, but it was only going to cause difficulties.

But he knew he would be in a whole lot of trouble if he stood her up.

Monday 2nd March 2015, 14:44 PM

As it turned out, it wasn't the cafeteria itself where the meeting was taking place, but rather the rooftop garden above it. Empty in the season it was, it gave them some privacy to talk without being eavesdropped on.

He recognised Carl's old beater car he kept around in the States. Whenever he was sent there, he'd get it from the garage. The thing was starting to rust and the occasional whine of the engine made it clear it wasn't going to last much longer. Inside were bags, packed in the trunk. Shaking his head, Caine went into the cafeteria, towards the middle of the street. The rooftop garden had been a good choice for the meeting. He'd have probably chosen it himself.

Entering the cafeteria, he was greeted by the woman at the counter; a middle-aged lady with a friendly face.

Heading up the stairs at the back of the cafeteria, he reached the top and gave a glance around. The garden was bigger than he expected, but was empty. To the left of the stairs, two doorways led into what he believed to be the restrooms. Just outside the men's was Carl, leaning against the wall with his coat's hood up.

Carl gave him a nod, but Caine only responded with a scowl. It seemed by the look on Carl's face that he knew what Caine's reaction would be, as he had a sheepish look in his eyes.

"Before you say anything," Carl spoke up, "This wasn't my idea. And honestly, it was either this or you'd be meeting with the entire seven. They were just as upset about this whole thing as you were expecting. Especially Tyler. Had that look in his eyes and had already gotten his sniper rifle."

The thought almost made Caine smile, but he fought the urge, reminding himself that he was meant to be angry. "This. This? This is not acceptable."

"Alice said the same thing."

"I told you. The whole point of this was to keep interference out. I didn't need them coming over and destroying any element of surprise that we had." Feeling the rage build up in his throat, he tried to keep his voice low, "But this? How could you let this happen?!"

"Be easy on him, Tom." A voice said from the restrooms, calm but firm, "I make my own decisions."

Scowling, Caine tried to remain stone-faced as Samantha stepped out from the restrooms. Her hair, tied back in a pony-tail, was staved off from the rain only by the umbrella she had by her waist, hung on to the satchel bag she carried. Underneath the blue raincoat she was wearing was her lab coat.

She tried to give him a smile, as if to lower the tension, but Caine remained furious.

"You should've kept this quiet," Caine pointed at Carl, before moving his finger to Samantha, "and you are going home."

Frowning at that, she seemed almost offended, "I'll be doing no such thing, I'm afraid."

"Boss," Carl interjected, "The moment you vanished, they were asking questions. When they asked me, I couldn't lie to them. We're a team. Of equal status. They have a right to know what was going on."

"This is personal. There was a reason I didn't tell them." Caine sighed, closing his eyes, "Our funding isn't enough. You know that. We're barely scraping by, as it is."

"I know. I've seen our figures."

"Then you know why I couldn't have the other members of AESIR here. Including the two of you! This case is personal. I can't justify spending our assets on it, and I can't justify pulling people away from what they're assigned to for this!"

Carl shook his head, "Boss, you're forgetting something; this is personal for me, too. I was there with you against Golden Freddy. I saw Spencer—" Carl paused for a moment, "Mr. Schmidt…die. I was there when we saw first-hand what the killer had done. That…that little chamber of his is going to stick with me forever."

That was something in which Caine could relate to. Though he had seen many other atrocities, encountered such evils before and after the Fazbear Conspiracy, that hidden compartment with the rags and the teddy bear was a sight he'd never forget."

"I'm involved in this," Carl finished off firmly, "and that's final."

Samantha seemed to concur, "Me being here is the compromise that I made with Alice, for her to agree to leave this be. It was her vote that made sure the seven didn't come down here guns-blazing."

"You're not cleared for field work." Caine pleaded.

She smiled at that, "I've got you to protect me, don't I?"

That almost made him laugh. Though he knew he was armed, ready, and able to take down any threats they came across, he also knew protecting his wife wasn't something he necessarily needed to do. He wouldn't be surprised if this all ended with her saving his life.

"Okay." Caine sighed, rubbing his face. He was feeling tired again. It seemed like he was always tired. "Okay. But you follow my orders, got it? We're in dangerous territory, out here. We need to keep our wits about us."

"You say 'jump'." Carl shrugged,

"We say 'how high'?" Samantha smiled.

Snorting, Caine went over to the edge of the garden and looked down at the cars passing by on the street below. "Who did you leave in charge? Just so I know how much I need to be shaking in the corner."

"Brim."

Nodding, Caine breathed slowly, "Okay. Alright. That gives me some relief, at least."

With Samantha on his left side, leaning against his arm and giving him a concerned look, Caine gave her a half smile, an attempt to say 'Just feeling tired'. Carl went up to his right side, resting against the half wall.

"So," Carl asked him, "what's our first move?"

Remembering what he was originally planning on doing before the meeting, Caine decided that there was still enough daylight. "We are going to go and hit one of Fazbear Entertainment's facilities to dig up some leads."

"Starting off strong, eh?"

"What can I say?" Caine grumbled, "I've got nothing but good ideas."

Monday 2nd March 2015, 14:44 PM

Although strange to admit it, it had been good to see Carl and Samantha again.

He'd been asleep when they arrived, his body's natural clock taking a hit after spending the night awake. It had been a long time since he had done a night shift.

When Caine had returned to the headquarters with the two of them in tow, Michelle and Jack had greeted them with some clear concern, of which was quickly abated when Mike had been happy to see them. Through some of the hardest moments of the Fazbear Conspiracy, Carl had been there, offering aid and support without even a moment of doubt.

Then there was Samantha, who had saved his life after he had ended up with the blade of a madman cartel leader embedded in his stomach.

It had been impossible to notice that Caine seemed reluctant to have them there. Mike had quickly read between the lines, deducing that they'd turned up without his consent. Although it was reasonable that the detective didn't want to put his organisation—as well as his close friends and family—at risk, there still was something on Mike's mind.

Like what exactly was so concerning about the other members of AESIR helping them.

Shaking his head, Mike decided that whatever the reason was, it was Caine's secret to keep. Besides, he had other things to focus on; such as this upcoming shift.

He hadn't told anyone about what he had seen. What good would come of it, after all? He wasn't even sure if it had been legitimate, or just him seeing things. It was becoming harder and harder to tell the difference. Back when he was just a simple security guard, first joining up with Freddy's, he had honestly believed that those visions had been nothing more than the paranoia of being close to death for such a long time.

Then after his encounters with Golden Freddy and the Puppet, that was no longer so clear.

Mike sighed. Caine, Carl, and Samantha had left a couple hours ago. They mentioned that they were planning on hitting a Fazbear Entertainment facility for leads. Knowing not to question it, Mike was at least confident on the fact that Caine could handle anything on his end.

It was just up to Mike to handle the other half.

He heard Michelle and Jack whispering to each other, in the next room. Soon after, they both stepped in to the living room, which was stacked with desks and pop-up cabinets, a couch pushed back against the far wall which Mike was sitting on, and a small screen tv that Michelle had managed to pick up from a yard sale. The thing still worked, too.

Glancing at him, Jack could tell that Mike was deep in thought and didn't say anything. Waiting for a moment, Michelle stepped forward and spoke up.

"Mike," She asked quietly, "you have a moment?"

Blinking at them, Mike raised an eyebrow. "Sure. What's up?"

The two of them exchanged glances with each other. Waiting a few moments for them to finally say what was on their minds, he was about to open his mouth again when Michelle finally explained herself.

"You're doing all the work, here." She explained in her brusque way, crossing her arms. "We're getting sick and tired, waiting around here all day while you're out there, doing all the work."

"Okay." Mike said simply.

"We've done all we can here. I've set this place up as best as I can, and Jack's gotten everything he can get into from his computer. I'm thinking…the time for intel gathering is over."

Nodding slowly, Mike stared out the window. "You want to get into the field."

"Basically? Yes."

"We understand you want to take this thing slow and carefully." Jack reasoned, "But you know how this works. We're not going to get any further unless we hit them. I've got a few ideas on what we can do."

Catching on to the fact that they clearly had an idea on what they could do, Mike leaned back and glanced between them. "Go on."

Hesitating at first, Ella finally said it. "This Fazbear Frights needs workers, right? Entertainers, maintenance, probably a few tech geeks."

Jack gave her a look, but she ignored it. "So, why not recommend us for the position? Word of mouth and all that, right?"

When Mike didn't answer immediately, they both clearly had the same belief on what he was going to say.

"I get it." Jack said quickly, "It's dangerous. And this is personal for you. But—"

"Okay." Mike answered finally, which seemed to confuse them. Without letting them speak, he shrugged, "You're both adults. And this is a partnership. So, if you think you can handle it, I'll tell Reggie about you."

They both seemed to relax at that. Standing up, Mike blinked tiredly at the clock, "If you want, I can tell Reggie about you two, see what is available?"

Without letting them answer, he approached the phone on the counter of the kitchen. He took out the small notebook he'd written Reggie's number down in and punched the numbers. The phone took a while to be answered, and just as Mike was about to give up, Reggie picked up the phone, sounding tired.

"Yo," He mumbled, "this is Reggie. What's up?"

"It's me, boss." Mike spoke clearly, "Mike. You free?"

"Uh, sure, dude!" Reggie cleared his throat. Mike couldn't tell if he was just sleepy, or otherwise not entirely lucid. "What's happening?"

Glancing at his friends, Mike chose his words carefully. "You, uh, looking for any more people? I've got a couple friends looking for work. Skilled, reliable. In case you were needing any more help."

It took Reggie a few moments to respond, making Mike think that he had overstepped his bounds. Suddenly regretting his decision, he was about to speak up and say to forget about it, but his boss finally spoke up.

"Uh, sure." Reggie said, seeming confused, "I've, uh, got a few people needed. But, I need people with a…certain skillset, you know?"

Though he had an idea on what Reggie was looking for, it concerned him all the same. "Say what you need, and I can see if it'll work."

"Well…you know anyone who's good with tech? Like, lights and computers? I need maintenance guys and the like."

Mike almost laughed at the coincidence. "Yeah, one of my guys is good with that sort of stuff. Digital and the like. Another one is good at repairing stuff, as long as it can be done with a wrench and doesn't need patience."

He could feel the scowl coming from Ella burning into the side of his head, but he merely gave a smirk and continued. "Both are good workers. One can basically get a place up and running by herself."

"She, uh, good with working a mop and bucket, too?"

Mike thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure." Truth is, Ella had done worse.

"Okay. Tell them to meet me. When do you think they're free?"

"In and hour?"

"Um…sure. Okay. I, uh, need a bit of time, but I should make it. I'll meet them by Frights."

The call ended and Mike gave a shrug at the looks he was given. "He'll meet you at Fazbear Frights in an hour."

Nodding, Ella shared a look with Jack. "You managed to get us something? What's he looking for?"

"Guys good with tech," He nodded to Jack, "and guys good with keeping the place up and running. I had to throw in mopping to sweeten the deal, if that's all right."

Ella shrugged, "Not that bad. He didn't get suspicious or anything?"

"If I'm honest, I think he's just glad to have people looking to get hired." Mike mused, "Doesn't seem like anyone except for me has bitten."

So.

Sorry it's taken so long.

I'm hoping that I'm back in it, but I can't guarantee getting chapters out consistently, but I'm sure going to try. Might just need to bare with me.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Trying to keep up with the whole horror element has been harder than I thought, but I feel that if any of the stories need that element, it's either this one or the one I'll write after this. (After all, FNAF 4 can't be anything other than horror, surely?) Appreciate the kind words, I think it might be an idea to have a break after finishing the story so that I can get back into the new one. I don't particularly want to have such a large hiatus in the middle of it.