*TBH guys this is the most often I've updated a fanfic that just proves how excited I am for this! I wasn't sure about what direction to go in this chapter and I just went with my first option. Now I'm sorry if it sucks I didn't know what to do XD BTW members of the old Fredbears crew will refer to him as Gold. Oh and I kinda put in a little thing there if you can get it. Well actually two. One more obvious than the other. So yellow is associated with fear, pain, and sadness. I'll wait for you to get the rest...*
He climbed back in to the driver seat of his car and pulled out of the parking lot. He could hear nothing but the crackling of the gravel beneath him. Ever since he lost his mind he doesn't think. His mind is never occupied by thought because when your mind is scrambled they take a while to reach the surface. He of course can have an intelligent thought once in every while but it's just the remains of his life once before. After today though memories are a dream to him. He can remember faces, songs, sounds, but he can't really decipher if he was really there or not. He could remember the nice faces and who they were but the faces of the mean people gave him headaches...
That's really why he's been itching to kill once again. He's not on meds and his head hurts horribly unless he feeds his obsession. He's killed only once but one thing could change a crowd of things. Anytime he'd accidentally cut himself while cooking or just normal everyday things he'd just let his wound bleed. Eventually he'd feel a bit woozy and make it stop or else he would've bled to death but it was the only time he'd feel relief of any sort. He'd have very choppy dreams of blood and gore every time and again because his headaches and delusions would get to the point where his mind would muster up enough intelligence to picture a scene to make it stop. When the pain would get horrible he'd just lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Hardly blinking, hardly breathing, he'd begin to see things. Keep in mind his thoughts are usually blank. Hallucinations were very rare. He'd see eyes he had never seen before staring at him in dark corners. He'd hear screams.
Although in terrible pain he liked it in a way. He felt like he had power. He had enough power to end life, he had enough power to ruin lives, even if the cost was one of his own.
While driving down the road he felt like he should follow a certain path. He let his hands steer until he came to a secluded, private drive. He traveled the way until he came to a house. His mind flashed a brief picture of the house some 20 years ago. He saw a man who looked much like himself walk in to the house greeted by a man and a woman.
A friendly face and a mean face. Both smiling but the energy that surrounded them was pure white and then pitch black. He knew the man he saw walk in to the house was him but he couldn't believe himself. He crawled out of his seat and went up to the door. He knew he wouldn't be greeted by the same faces but the energy that surrounded the house was pure white instead of grey. Maybe not as pure white though now, it was more of a creamish yellow. Fear, pain, sadness. He knocked slowly.
He heard floorboards creeking as each slow step was taken. The door squeeked open to reveal a woman. A woman he knew. Mrs. Fazbear. He can put good faces to names. Bad people he thought of their face and name and remembered the same things but never at the same time. She wore a suprised expression on her face. She looked older and tired. Once vibrant red hair was peeking grey here and there. Her face was still plump but her hands were wrinkling.
"G-gold...?" she said with a stutter. Since she was a nice face he could understand and know what she was referring to. "Hello." he muttered quietly. She gestured him inside and followed him by his heels. She took a seat and patted the chair beside her. Once he was seated she automatically gave him a look of confusion. "It's been... so long... w-what have you been up to?"
He shrugged "Exactly nothing." he said with a straight face. They didn't know exactly what to talk about, neither of them wanted to speak about the elephant in the roome either. He wanted to pretend like he didn't do it but it would be hard lying to her. This lie drove two grown men to insanity within days, who's to say a woman would not fall to the same victim? A single tear rolled down her cheek. His being there obviously brought back memories that she had been living with shelved in the back of her mind. He turned to her to see these tears. He wasn't sure how to comfort someone, he'd lost his human instinct he only knew pain. He moved an inch closer and put a hand on her shoulder. He had no words because anything he could say would've made it worse. She began sobbing loudly and spontaniously yelled "My life's gone to hell!" and continued sobbing wildly.
The energy around her now more yellow than before now had a blend of purple. This was a new one. He felt like he could trust this energy, he liked it. He thought for a moment and realized what it meant. Death. She was thinking about death. At this moment he thought of a way to comfort her. After all it was his fault and even if it might hurt her more he felt a responsibility and you know the saying. With great power comes great responsibility only not in the hero sense.
He started singing lyrics he didn't know he knew.
"My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf, So it stood ninety years on the floor; It was taller by half than the old man himself, Though it weighed not a pennyweight more. It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born, And was always his treasure and pride; But it stopped short — never to go again — When the old man died." he began to hum the chorus and Mrs. Fazbear lifted her head from her hands. It was a twisted way of comforting but it helped.
"In watching its pendulum swing to and fro, Many hours had he spent while a boy; And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know And to share both his grief and his joy. For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door, With a blooming and beautiful bride; But it stopped short — never to go again — When the old man died." she sang back. A small smile appeared on their faces. Mrs. Fazbear gave a sigh and stood from her chair and waltzed over to a desk with papers scattered amognst it. He followed her.
They were papers disgussing the sale of the franchise. It spoke of all the new things they were going to do and some negotiated things. Mrs. Fazbears signiture was laced on some lines as was a name he didn't recognize on the space beside the paragraph speaking about the unused suits and how they could do what they pleased with them but the Golden Freddy suit must remain with them at all times no matter what the franchise does.
"Are you excited about the new place?" He asked in the most normal tone he could conjure up. "Well it's happening. They let me have a say in a few things. They had me make the voice for Chica, they modified it of course because a woman in her 40's can't do a voice of a younger character." she chuckled a bit.
"So I suppose you had a say in the Marionette?" she squinted her eyebrows at the question. "I don't quite know what you mean by that. I told them a few stories and they did a couple things based off of things we did in the old place and stories I'd told them so they must've done something to that extent." he just nodded. "What all did they do according to your stories?" she tucked her lips to the side "I don't know much. They said some of the characters mentality would be based off of all of our characters as a person." he chuckeld a bit thinking of if they really knew about him what his character would've been like. A thought crossed her mind and a frown suddenly appeared on her face. It was more anger than saddness.
"They told me something very disturbing to me the other day..."
His eyes drifted up from the carpet and their eyes met. Hers were filled with fire. Her energy was now red and purple. The white was gone.
