Hehehehehe...

~xXLoveThatAccentXx

Fritz was less than happy to roam the premises with nothing but a flashlight; especially while scary mysterious men ran amok within the restaurant. But this was his job now. Although he was upset that he was a grown up and actually had to do something about this, he had to suck it up and act his age and be responsible. Fritz hated being responsible.

Dang it; why couldn't he be sixteen again? Everything had been simple when he was sixteen. Get everything from mom and dad, be crazy and free, lots of attention, lots of time... no creepy lockdowns at old pizzerias in the middle of the night.

Fritz had to admit it. Yes. He was quite on edge.

Next to him, Mike also searched around with a flashlight. He was tense. Fritz could relate with his growing paranoia, but he had no right to be. After all, this was technically his fault. He probably shouldn't have turned off the robots' scanners, but he'd been scared. He didn't want to die, frankly. Mike had to understand that.

Fritz's flashlight drifted over the stage area, where the gang was standing boredly. Without the scanners, they couldn't tell who from who, and without identification, they couldn't attack. Of course, Fritz could always turn them back on, but he wasn't exactly keen on dying tonight.

Suddenly, Mike jumped. Fritz quickly whirled around to see what his comrade was seeing, but nothing was there. Still, Mike froze.

"What?" He asked cautiously.

"Y-you don't...? You don't see it...?"

Fritz looked again, waving his flashlight all around, but all he saw was the empty stage room.

"You're really freaking me out. Stop it." Fritz growled irritably. His paranoia grew considerably when Mike continued to stare. Was this guy completely crazy?!

Then Mike bit his lip and turned away. "Sorry. I saw a huge spider. You guys need to take better care of this place... let's go."

Fritz nodded suspiciously. The air around this guy just didn't seem right. He'd have to keep a close eye on him.

Mike automatically assumed it was his hazy mind at work; a form of hallucination as a result of his depression. But deja vu hit him hard and all he could do was stare.

His flashlight beam landed on a little girl.

She was blonde, with a short yellow party dress and matching shoes. Tears leaked down her face. As though something horrible had happened to her. Something she wasn't allowed to speak of.

He'd seen this before.

This time, he didn't even question why a little girl was here in the middle of the night; The real question was what she was here for. This had to mean something. What did it mean?

Fritz shoved him once. "What?"

"Y-you don't...? You don't see it...?" Mike's heart dropped. Fritz really couldn't see this girl? As if to prove it, Fritz looked around, his flashlight beam passing straight over the girl several times without even so much a twitch of acknowledgement.

The little girl wasn't looking at Fritz though. She was looking at Mike.

"You can't stay here." She whispered. "It's dangerous."

Mike held his breath for a few seconds before answering, as quietly as he could so Fritz wouldn't hear. This had to be a figure of a hallucination. This couldn't really be real. "I need to help my friend. I can't leave."

"You can't stay here," She insisted.

"You're really freaking me out. Stop it." Fritz huffed.

Mike continued to stare for a few minutes more before finally turning away to look at Fritz, who was irritably gesturing ahead. When he looked back, the girl was gone.

That had to be my imagination. Mike had heard about instances where people saw things that seemed real, but weren't. Maybe it was his paranoia.

Either way, he found it a priority not to linger.

Fritz and Mike unanimously agreed to keep the lights off, so not to alarm the intruder. Fritz told Mike he'd snuck around a lot with his gang the Wild Childs, and that the element of surprise was the best way to go. Mike took his word for it.

Sooner than later, they heard a slight noise. It was just a small clatter, coming from downstairs, in the basement. Fritz put a finger to his lips and Mike lifted his hands as if to say 'I know!'

They opened the door to the basement and slowly descended the concrete stairs.

While Mike was sweeping the darkness with his flashlight, he stumbled on a loose chip of concrete and nearly fell down the stairs. Fritz quickly caught his wrist. At this, Mike hissed, regained his balance, and jerked his arm away. Fritz raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

At the bottom of the steps, long expanses of pipe stretched down a long corridor. Fritz steeled himself and led the way.

The pipes weren't too rusty. Just a bit of build-up in the joints of the pipe and around the holes in the ceilings where they entered. There were, however, countless amounts of frayed wire and cable hanging from the ceiling like cobwebs. It smelled like mildew and there were a couple puddles and damp spots on the ground to indicate a leak in the pipes. It was dark. There weren't any bulbs to turn on. Just the flashlights that the two security guards held.

"You see anything?" Fritz whispered, trying to see through the tangle of wires hanging like vines of a jungle.

"Nothing. Keep looking. I'll go left, you go right."

"We're splitting up?"

"Is that a problem?"

Fritz gave him a glare. "There's a person running around that could very possibly be dangerous, and you want to split up?"

Mike's expression was flat. "I have a phone you know. You see scary person, just text me!"

Fritz huffed, nodded, and started off to the right.

Mike knelt and stared long and hard at the stain on the floor. It was dark and a shade of reddish-brown. As much as the thought made him uneasy, he was pretty sure that wasn't water.

Could this be... where Jeremy was?

Mike didn't want to think about it. But even though the stain looked old, it still made him sick.

He started forward again, following the specks of old blood through the basement. Whoever was injured must've been carried this way, by the look of the drops.

He lifted the flashlight to the corridor again and nearly had a heart attack as the face of a child stood directly in front of him. Mike jumped backwards and fell, looking at the red-haired kid with wide eyes.

The kid was the same as the others. He had party clothes and muddy shoes, and he was crying.

"You have to leave." The kid warned. "You can't stay here."

"Who are you kids?!" Mike demanded. This time, he knew for a fact he wasn't dreaming. This kid was here. They had all been here.

"Please, take your friend and go. It's not safe."

Mike rose to his feet and shook his head. "If anyone needs to leave, it's you and all your friends. If it's so dangerous, take your own advice."

The kid sniffled. "I can't."

Suddenly, Fritz yelled loudly from the other side of the hall, making Mike turn. "Mike! Mike, over here! Quick!"

Mike looked back around, but the boy was gone.

He ran across the corridor and quickly looked around for Fritz. A bright light somewhere to the left led him straight to the punk, whose eyes were wide and confused.

"What's going on?! What happened?!" Mike stopped, and followed Fritz's eyes.

Just ahead was a person. He wore all black, including a beanie that covered most of his hair. There was a bit of dried blood along the side of his mouth and under his nose, as if lately he'd been in a fight. He was short. He had the expression of a cornered cat.

But the things that stood out the most were the gloves on his hands. The black gloves.

Mike's breath caught in his throat.

"Jeremy?"