Air Adventure


Saturday 7th March 2015, 13:12 PM


Even after all of his time mulling it over and trying to understand why, Caine couldn't quite find an answer as to why this was all happening now.

Part of him had considered the chance that it was all just bad timing. With Fazbear Frights opening up, Mike calling him to request help, Lawson coming out of the shadows to reign death and destruction once more, and Donovan finally making his move against them. As the years slowly passed by and he looked death in the eye, both figuratively and literally these days, he knew his luck was slowly running out.

However, the pragmatic part of him told the very blunt statement that it was anything but coincidence. Had anything within his life happened by accident, it would have been nothing but miracles and curses.

So when he had tried everything he could to try and figure out what had become of Mike and it had all come back fruitless, he knew it was deliberate. It had to be. His search at Fazbear Frights had been for nothing. Mike was no longer in the building, but it might have been as if he never left. He had walked there, since the car he and his friends used was still at the apartment and the rental car Mike had gotten was with it.

On his part, Carl had checked through everything he could to try and spot Mike through any of the CCTV cameras throughout town. After some time, he had even managed to hack into the traffic cameras. There was no sign of Mike. He hadn't used his credit card, or his phone. It was as if he had vanished off the face of the Earth.

Caine knew in his heart that it either meant one of two things: Someone had gotten to Mike, or he didn't want to be found.

When his attempts had all but faltered, Caine had revisited that same spot where he and Mike had met each other again after all those years. It had surprised him how close to the apartment it was. So much that it had taken him a mere ten minutes to get there. Gazing out towards the bay alongside the salty shore, he could only ponder on what any of this meant.

Mike was gone, possibly dead. Lawson was closing in, going after a list of people the Crucible wanted dead. Donovan was making his move against him, and everyone he worked with.

He knew that a direct attack against the Crucible, or its High Overseer, would just lead to a quick death. Without the aid of AESIR, he was just one man going up against a leviathan of a organisation. But as the minutes ticked away, he knew he didn't have time to play it safe. Time was running out, for him and the people he had brought with him.

He needed to act, no matter the potential risk.

From everything he had gathered from the miniscule amount of information he had on him, as well as what he knew about the man, his current theory was that Donovan was acting independently. Rather than this being a united move against him—or AESIR as a whole—the High Overseer was instead planting the seeds before making his move.

Creating a scenario which seemed to indicate that it was Caine and the rest of the Seven who started this, rather than the Crucible, would prove to be a massive benefit to them and could even make Sword Department question their stance.

Sighing, Caine knew that his only hope was the scrounge up the allies he had and prepare for what came next. Once Dutch was taken care of, they needed to get ready for what was likely going to end up an all-out war. But in the meanwhile, Caine knew he needed the people still in the Crucible that were not wrapped around Donovan's finger to be aware about what was really going on.

Which meant that his next move was to go to the Crucible directly, get a meeting face-to-face with Hasashi, and try to remedy this foul situation.

Hearing a vehicle pull up behind him, Caine glanced over his shoulder and saw Carl's car twenty meters away, just parked up by the side of the road. Scowling, Caine looked back over towards the bay. His reason for going there was to be alone. Somewhere so that he could think.

After a few moments, he heard the footsteps approaching him, but he didn't look. He didn't need to. With his eyes still on the bay, his stone look didn't change as he spoke.

"Both of you should be at the apartment." Caine spoke firmly, trying to keep himself from breaking, "It's not safe."

She didn't say anything at first, but instead stared at him for a moment. "Then why are you out here?"

With a weary sigh, Caine shook his head. "This was where I made my promise to Mike, you know. This exact spot. It hasn't changed too much since then. It was after the incident at the new pizzeria, after Mike's dad died. I promised him, right here, that if he ever needed help, I would be there."

"I remember." Samantha spoke, "That would have been just a week before we went to Italy. It was…the same day I told you about Spencer."

"Aye. Something had almost stopped me from saying those words. Stopped me from telling him that I could continue helping him. I guess because in spite of everything, part of me just wanted to put the thing to rest. That if we ever did try to pursue it again, we would end up regretting it."

"And do you?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Walking to his side, Samantha glanced at his face, which remained unchanged. "Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you? There's been something wrong since yesterday."

He almost laughed at that. "Really? What, you missed the memo? What's that thing that Isabella always jokes about? Murphy's Law. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. I've got a missing man, my family's killer is somewhere around here and I don't know who he's going after next, and I've got the most cutthroat organisation in the world possibly going after me and everyone who knows me."

She nodded, "So…it's just business as usual, then."

"Much to my annoyance, yes."

"Then it's not just that."

Starting to feel the annoyance building up in him, he gritted his teeth. "I don't know. Maybe it's because you're here. Maybe, if you had just listened to me and gone home, this wouldn't be a problem, would it?"

When she didn't respond, he closed his eyes, regretting his words. "I'm sorry. It's…I'm glad you're here. I just…this whole situation is just pissing me off."

"What about it, though?" She asked carefully.

"I don't know."

"Is it because of Mike? I heard that phone call you had with him. What he said wasn't fair."

But Caine shook his head. "No. No, it's not that. Mike's a good man, who's going through a lot. I should have seen it sooner. Now he's gone, and I don't have the faintest clue where he is. I'm worried about him."

"But you were upset about something before that. What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Is it about Dutch? Or the Crucible?"

"Both."

"Why? What about it is upsetting you so much?"

"I don't know!"

"Tom…I know what you're going through is more than most people ever do in their entire lives…but I've seen how you act, no matter how much strain is put on you. You're angry, truly angry, about something. What is it?"

"I don't know!"

Silence erupted between them and for the longest time, Caine's eyes just remained on the bay. Watching the waves lap the shore. Raising his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose, he was surprised to almost feel the sting of tears, but refused to allow them to win. Lowering his hand, he shook his head.

"Twenty years." He finally spoke, the fury and hurt that had been building in his chest for days finally emerging, "Twenty god damn years."

"I know."

"Twenty years I gave to them. Lamarck brought me in. Got me out of prison. But I had to leave you. You had to think I was dead for three years before I could see you again. Lucy…Lucy died before I could come back. My sister…she had to die thinking I got my head bashed in by some thug. I never got to see her again."

"All because of them. Because they needed me to maintain my cover, until the coast was clear. I gave everything I had to the Crucible. I nearly lost my life hundreds of times working with them. I've got scars that will never heal, because of them. I've killed…I've killed so many people, while working with them."

He almost laughed, feeling the bitterness overwhelming his every word, "I know you don't believe in any of it…but I do. If there's a Heaven and Hell, I know exactly where I'm going. I'm broken. My soul is tainted. It was before I met them, but they used it. They used me, for their own means. So that I could maintain their status quo, keep their control, and uphold their will."

"And then, I leave. I walk away. I try to do things differently. I've not had to kill one single person in six years. And what do they do?" Feeling his rage burning up through him, he tried his best to keep his voice from raising into a yell, "They betray me. They recruit the man who ruined my life, the man they set upon this world, to kill me."

"And I don't have a god damn clue what their plan is! They won't just stop with me! They'll go after everyone I love, just to get at me! Maybe it would have been best if…" Stopping himself from finishing, he closed his eyes, regretting his outburst.

He felt Samantha come closer, wrapping an arm around his waist and embracing him. Finally feeling the tears sting through his will, he kept his eyes on that bay, but hugged her back.

"It never would be." She finally spoke after a few moments, "You know that, right?"

Not feeling the strength to respond, he closed his eyes.

"You, the kids…you're my whole world."

"You're mine, too." Caine mumbled, "And I'm sorry I've put us in this position."

"We'll get through it. We always do. We've got each other, and that's a lot for love."

Almost snorting at that, he spoke dryly, "Please, don't quote eighties songs. I'm distressed enough as it is."

They remained there for the longest time, just the two of them with the midday sun shining down on the water. Closing his eyes, Caine started to feel like a fool. "I'm…I'm sorry for dropping that on you."

"Please, stop apologizing for it. You know I'll always be there for you."

"You always have been."

Glancing behind him, Caine saw Carl sitting by the car, typing away on his laptop. Knowing it was time to get back to work and to stop feeling sorry for himself, he looked at Samantha. "Has he found anything?"

"I'm not sure." She frowned, "He's still not found any sign of Mike, at least not until we got here."

Nodding, Caine stepped away from her and made his way towards Carl. Seeing the concentration in his colleague's eyes, he waited for Carl to be done with the task he was working on before speaking.

"Anything come up?"

Shaking his head, Carl placed the laptop on the side of the car and looked annoyed. "Nothing. I just don't understand. Where in the world could he have gone?"

"There's no signs whatsoever?"

"He hasn't used his card, he hasn't driven by car past any speed cameras, he hasn't be anywhere with CCTV…if he's still around, he's either managed to pull off a miracle and hasn't done anything to leave a trail, or he making a point not to leave one."

Feeling the dread coming back, Caine sighed. At this point, he had a bad feeling that if Mike was still alive, he would only know about it once his troubled friend showed himself. "Okay. Let's put a pin in that, then. That safehouse I mentioned. What have you found?"

"It's not changed owners. From what little footage I could dig up, the only thing I've managed to find are reports of the occasional visitor. More than there would have been back when we were still using it, but still…"

Looking down towards the floor, Caine considered that. This was his final choice to forget about what he was considering doing. But knowing that he didn't have any other option, he nodded. "Okay. Then that's where I'm going."

"Boss, are you sure? We have no idea what you'll be walking into. For all we know, the Crucible's already declared you to be an enemy. You might be shot on sight."

"I know. That's a risk I'm going to have to take."

It didn't take him long to arrive at the apartment complex he once used. It had been the same one he had arrived in to see Carl, at the beginning of the Fazbear Conspiracy case after those months spent on the run after the fight with the Fuego Verde had gone down. Both he and Carl had been given the briefing on their next job before they had even gotten back to give their reports.

As he gazed at the building, Caine prepared himself for whatever laid inside. Though he knew that the safehouse was likely going to still be used by the field operatives—most of which were likely Hasashi's men—he knew that it was entirely likely he'd get a gun in his face the moment he stepped in. Unfortunately, since this was a mission of diplomacy, he wouldn't be able to match it with his own.

Approaching the building, he stepped inside and headed straight towards the top floor. Graffiti and waste covered the walls and floors. To the naked eye, this apartment would look dangerous, filled with street gangs and junkies. No one would know that the most dangerous people in the world were housed here.

He reached the door, lowered his head, and took a deep breath. Raising a hand, he knocked on the door. Moments passed before he heard the voice on the other end.

"Be ready as well for the ultimate sacrifice."

You've got to be kidding me, Caine thought to himself, stunned. Twenty years had passed and they were still using the same codewords? He knew back office illegal clinics with better security than this. Shaking his head in disbelief, he uttered the counter code.

"For nobody comes out of Hell without a scratch."

A few painful seconds passed before the door clicked open. Stepping in, Caine nodded to the doorman, who gazed at him with a suspicious look, before stepping further in. Dimly lit lamps were the only light source, with the windows covered up. Reaching what would have usually been the living room, instead converted into a briefing room lined with whiteboards, computers, and maps on large note boards, it looked exactly how the safe houses used to look back when he was an agent.

There was a stark difference, however. Unlike the quiet safe houses he had been accustomed to, where you'd be lucky to see one or two other agents, the room was filled with at least twenty men, most of whom were armed with at least a pistol.

And all of them had turned from what they were doing and were now staring at him.

Without making so much as the smallest move, Caine glanced around the room. Should this end up in a firefight, he knew his only two options were to go straight back the way he came from—which put him at risk of getting a bullet in the back courtesy of the doorman who Caine knew was still watching him, or to dive through the window to his left, which had the fire escape.

One of the agents, looking nervous and jittery, spoke up. "Who are you? I've never seen you here, before."

Without taking his eyes off the other men, Caine responded. "You're Sword Department?"

"I'm asking the questions. Who are you?"

"An old friend. Who's not wanting trouble. I'm just wanting to deliver a message. Are you Sword Department?"

"What message? Where are you from?"

Seeing the tension inside the room, Caine breathed in. "It's for Takeo Hasashi. I need to speak to him. It's important."

It dawned on Caine how young many of the agents looked. Some were perhaps in their late twenties, while others looked as young as nineteen. Were they recruits?

"I'm going to ask one last time." The agent seethed, his hand closing in towards his pistol, "Who are you and who do you work for?"

Just as Caine had a feeling that the situation was about to implode, he heard the authoritative voice speak over the room, making a few of the agents jump.

"I know who he is."

The woman walked out from one of the hallways, looking grumpy. Stepping past the recruits, who seemed to slink back slightly, the woman stopped in front of the recruits, staring at him.

"This, boys," The woman said, "is Thomas Caine. Most of you were probably still in Elementary School when he was around. Remember all those stories about our sister department, Shield? This man ran it. He was brought in, trained, by John Lamarck himself. He also did not get on with the High Overseer."

Gazing at Caine, the woman raised an eyebrow, "In fact, you didn't get on with a lot of people, didn't you? Didn't play well with others at all."

Without blinking, Caine tilted his head slightly, "Well, it's like Sokolov always said. Business before pleasure."

"You're not here to make friends." The woman finished. They kept their eye contact for the longest time, not saying a word, as the recruits amongst them watched on tensely, almost awaiting the first strike.

Then, Caine couldn't hold the stone look on his face for much longer and the woman broke out in a laughter. Laughing with her, Caine walked closer and met her embrace, all the while the recruits watched on, their tension turning into confusion.

"It's been way too long, Caine." The woman smiled.

"Same to you, Stevens. I've got to say, I'm almost surprised you're still operating."

"I've gone into training full time. Most of these newbies can't shoot straight. Had to teach you, too, remember?"

"Right." Caine grinned as he remembered when he first joined. Though Lamarck had been his mentor in many of the aspects regarding the typical detective and investigation work, it had been up to people like Stevens to train him in the more combative aspects. "The Australian Ace. Hope you're going easy on them."

She barked out a laugh at that, "Never. Someone has to keep them from falling apart like little girls. Since Sokolov retired, it's been up to me. They just don't make 'em like they used to."

"Give them time. They'll surprise you, I'm sure."

"You sure did." Looking at the recruits, whom all had clearly read the room and were settling down, she seemed almost peeved that they had greeted him the way they did. "You should all feel honoured. This man, right here, is a living legend. He solved more cases, ended more conspiracies, and put away more bad guys then you lot will combined. Now, don't you all have better things to do than to keep gawking?"

Almost jittery, the recruits continued going what they were doing before Caine arrived, servicing their weapons or continuing with their plans on the notice boards. A few passed them on their way out of the apartment, one or two muttering their apologies. Caine would only respond with a smile, not wanting to make such a big deal about it.

"You haven't lost your touch." Caine noted.

"Neither did you, from what I've heard. You and your own guys seem to be the only thing people are talking about. Now, I'm sure you came here looking for something more than a reunion."

Nodding, Caine glanced around for any onlookers. "I need to talk to Hasashi. It's important. Something big is breaking out."

"Can do." Stevens frowned, "Good timing, too. He's actually in the area. We've had to mobilise here for a mission."

"I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of agents here. What's the mission?"

A scowl went across her face as she practically spat out the name.. "Dutch Lawson. He's here."

"I know. That's why I need to talk to Hasashi. Who gave the order?"

"Donovan did. Put out a high priority to start a campaign here. He's given us hardly any information."

Lowering his head, Caine gave a low sigh. It seemed that was Donovan's play. Likely hoping that the attack dog he hired to take him and the other targets out would himself be put down by Sword, all in the guise of avenging a former agent. "Stevens…I think we're looking at Tokyo, again."

The moment he said that, something glistened in her eyes. "Ah. The High Overseer?"

"Aye. I don't know who else knows, though. Just…keep an eye out. Dutch isn't the only threat."

"Will do. I'll contact Hasashi, tell him you want to meet. Where should I tell him to go?"

"The old pizzeria."

"Got it. I reckon he'll be there within an hour."

Nodding, Caine turned around and left the apartment, contemplating how severe the new piece of information in this puzzle would be.


Saturday 7th March 2015, 01:12 AM


When Mike had finally spotted the thing he honestly believed to be the answer sat there right in front of him, he knew what would happen next and how he would go about it would be his biggest chance of making a mistake.

Having decided to follow the clues in order, he had decided to start with the scrap of writing talking about Balloon Boy and double clicking. Since he was using a computer, the screen being the panel to his right, he had the ability to click on things. Naturally, this was how he operated the cameras, switching to different rooms.

On one of the cameras, there was a poster. Camera 08, to be exact. It had been the same camera where he'd seen the Marionette in one of his visions. Along the wall, which was illuminated by the jack-o-lantern made using Chica's head, were an array of posters made using old children's drawings of the various characters. Toy Bonnie, the Marionette, Toy Freddy, and Toy Chica were all depicted.

But the one that had caught Mike's attention had been the one of Balloon Boy. For some strange reason, the hallucinations hadn't affected him in any serious way and Spring Bonnie seemed to be meandering around the northern part of the building, so he had some time to think.

Deciding that he hadn't anything to lose, he had pressed on the poster with his finger. When nothing had happened, he was surprised to find himself disappointed.

But it said to double click, he reminded himself. Unsure, he raised his finger again, and with a irritated sigh, pressed on the poster twice.

The sudden eruption of static almost made him jump in his seat. Before the static on the screen dissipated, a string of text popped up.

Error: Anomaly Detected

His eyes went back to the poster. There was something more to it. Though it was clear that the poster had some significance, there wasn't anything else Mike could think that would imply any other meaning, even after trying to double click on it a few more times.

Unless, an invasive thought popped up in his head, the next step is to touch it physically.

It was a bad idea. Even in his sleep-deprived state, he knew that. Leaving the safety of his office to reach that poster in person would be a very quick and very dumb way to get himself killed.

If there was a time to weigh the value of my life, he pointed out to himself, it would have been back on that street.

Climbing up out of his chair, he gazed at the door. Then, cursing himself for a fool, he left the office.

His steps were quick, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Since there was a maniacal robot killer stalking the very halls he was in, his only hope for survival was that he could remain undetected. If he needed to run, he could outrun it. If he needed to dodge, he could dodge it. But the only problem was making sure he kept himself aware at all times, and also that he avoided making more than one mistake.

Because something told Mike that his bag of tricks wouldn't work more than once.

As he entered the middle hallway, he hurried forward, but stopped when he could hear the heavy footsteps just around the corner. Seeing the curtain to his right, he peaked through it and saw the shadow on the other side, closing in on the hallway. Stepping through the opening covered by the curtain, but not going all the way through it, he put his back against the wall and waited.

Upon seeing the shadow again, but this time on the other side where he had just come from, he stepped all the way through. He heard the footsteps going through the hallway he had come from, occasionally stopping and starting again. Mike looked at the posters on the wall and stepped closer to them.

With a tentative finger, he pressed the poster and was surprised when it gave slightly. There's a hollow behind it, he realised, before grabbing the edge of the poster and tearing it slightly. Sure enough, covered by the drawing of Balloon Boy was a small hollow in the wall itself, exposing a pipe. He ripped the poster off and examined what was inside.

When he saw the floppy disk hidden within the hollow, he bit his lip and plucked it, looking closely for any labels. There was none, leaving it blank. Looking back towards where he had come from, he heard the heavy footsteps making their way towards him.

He's coming back, Mike realised before quickly but quietly darting back towards the gap hidden by the curtain. Pressing his body against the wall, he felt the footsteps vibrating the wall. He slowed his breathing and looked towards the wall, waiting for the moment he saw the shadow.

When he did, he waited a few moments more before pulling the curtain slightly back. On the other side, the shadow started to disappear around the corner, telling him it was time to move. Glancing behind him before making his way back through the hallway, he saw that his trick had worked; the animatronic was none the wiser.

All he had to do was make his way back to the office. With the first clue now sorted, Mike thought about the unmarked floppy disk in his hand. He knew it was significant in some way, but what? Was it worth the massive risk he just had to take?

Was it worth the further risks he was sure he would need to take in his effort to pursue the other clues?

Upon reaching his office again, he checked the cameras and was satisfied to see that the animatronic hadn't pursued him. Staring at the floppy disk again, he wondered what could have been stored away on it and why it had been hidden. More than that, who had chosen to hide the tape in such a way? Reggie Wood?

Glancing at the panel which allowed him to view the cameras, he knew that it must have been connected to a computer. But where in the building was there a place which could house the system? From what Mike knew of remote servers, even they needed a physical system to work.

Mike looked at the desk in the office and, without any other idea what to do, checked it again. One of the units, on the right hand side, was far heavier than he expected. With careful hands, he pulled it open and exposed the mass tangle of wires and plastic. It seemed that the display panel was connected to this system, which judging by the very old and ineffective power it had seemed to be an older computer.

When he saw the connected device also in the drawer, connected to the computer using a very outdated cable, he almost couldn't believe his eyes. It seemed that someone had jury rigged an adapter to the computer, which Mike recognised to be a reader for a floppy disk.

The convenience of the find unsettled him. Someone, whether the Marionette or some other shadowy figure, had set him on this path. Was this all some larger scheme, and he was playing into their hands?

Once more checking the cameras before heading back over to the desk, he decided that he was too far in to back out now. He put the floppy disk inside the reader, the light on it flashing red for a few moments. When he heard the sound byte play on the panel behind him, he knew that something had worked.

Standing back up, he stepped back over to the panel and saw that the screen had changed, showing what seemed to be an old Atari game. But it was unlike any game that he had seen before; a figure he couldn't deny his recognition of stood at the bottom left of the screen, in a room with hanging frames. Balloons were all over the room, bright red.

At the top of the screen read the words BB's Air Adventure.

Not knowing what to do, Mike saw the buttons on the bottom left of the screen, representing the arrows that would usually be on a keyboard. Still with the ability to move his mouse, he pressed the arrow pointing upwards, and the sprite depicting Balloon Boy jumped.

Glancing nervously at the window behind him, Mike started to play the game. He collected all the Balloons, all the while a light tune played over the game. Just behind where his character had started was a large door labelled exit. He reached the door, went into it, and big letters saying Game Over flashed on the screen.

Dumbfounded, he was almost bemused to see the game reset. He was once more back to where he was, the balloons returned.

This is stupid, he cursed at himself, I'm getting myself distracted. I've got no way to see what the animatronic is doing with this stupid thing playing.

But something stopped him from pulling the floppy disk out. For some reason, he knew he was on the right track. The only question was, what was he supposed to do?

He played the game again and this time, upon collecting all the balloons, he didn't run to the exit. He remembered how rumours and speculation was always talked about video games, ever since they were on arcades. They had apparently improved since then, but he didn't know much else about it. But there was always these little secrets being passed around in idle conversations, mostly amongst kids and young adults.

The one thing that Mike could understand was how sometimes taking the beaten path can lead to something overlooked.

So instead, he jumped at the walls. His sprite bounced off, unfazed. He did so against each one of the walls, until stopping at the one at the top left. Once more, he jumped at it and instead of bouncing off, his sprite went straight through.

Floating down, his sprite fell into the darkness below, but seemed to enter somewhere new. Mike had to quickly react when he saw the large balloons straying across the screen and when his sprite touched them, he stopped falling. Realising that they were platforms, Mike couldn't help but reflect on the insanity he was currently witnessing.

He jumped across each platform, until he reached the end. After the last balloon, there was a ledge which gave him safe haven. He walked further across that ledge and entered into a new room. At the far edge of the ledge, facing him, was the sprite of a child, grey and crying. Unnerved, Mike had his sprite approach the child.

When nothing happened, he carelessly walked off the edge. Falling down, his character ended up in another new room, this was similar to the first one. At the top of the screen there was a final balloon, flashing multiple colours. He walked into that balloon and suddenly, the game ended, this time without stating anything.

However, just before the screen went black, an image of a large object, almost like a tree, surrounded by three crying figures which looked like Balloon Boy flashed, grey and nightmarish. Then, the game ended and didn't come back.

As Mike leant back in his chair, he felt like his last brain cells were dying off as he tried to understand what on Earth he had just seen. But deciding he didn't have time to consider the insanity of it, he knew he needed to press on with the next clue, hoping he was on the right track.


You know what's more infuriating than the FNAF 3 minigames? Trying to write about the FNAF 3 minigames. Jesus wept.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: It would certainly seem that very little people are even within the same book as Donovan, let alone the same page. About the whole Mike thing: I didn't really make it very clear, which I realised a couple of chapters ago, but everything happening with Caine is happening twelve hours after what Mike is doing in these chapters, which at the moment definitely seems to be going insane. And yes, it is certainly minigame time, which has been the thing I have been dreading the most since starting this story. Well, maybe the second most. Also, it just wouldn't do if Springtrap doesn't get at least one kill in this one, so be prepared for that going down.