Walmart - Sunday, January 16th, 1994
Anthony zipped through the aisles, pitching in supplies he'd need to carry out the task his boss had instructed him to complete. He got ten bottles of bleach, a thick pair of rubber cleaning gloves, a box of heavy-duty garbage bags, a scrubber brush, a cleaning mask, safety goggles, and a box of disposable cloths. Even with a filled cart, Anthony still questioned if he had enough to do the job.
He shoved the weighty cart over to the shortest line, which happened to move the slowest thanks to a fussy woman in line ahead of him, bickering with the young cashier over the validity of her bundle of coupons. Once the angry customer left, he finally made it to the front. Anthony was greeted by the teenage girl at the register. The way she smiled gave him the impression that she was one to talk, not unlike himself. On a typical shopping trip, he'd have enjoyed the like-minded company rather than dreaded it. He hoped the contents of his cart would be typical enough to not become a topic of conversation.
"Did you find everything you were looking for today?" she asked with cheer.
"Uh... yeah," Anthony replied, setting his purchases on the counter.
The young lady scanned the products one by one. "What's with all the bleach? Isn't that, like, a little overkill?"
He felt his heart leap into his throat. He remained silent for several awkward seconds as he desperately pieced together a reasonable explanation. "Uh… Just restocking the supply cupboard at work. I-It's easier to get it done in one trip, you know?"
"That makes sense. But why would your boss have an old guy running errands like that?"
Anthony cringed. "I'm 34. I'm not old."
She paused. "Oh, uh, sorry." She cleared her throat. "Just, I saw the cane, and…"
"I hurt my leg a while ago," he explained hastily.
"Sorry! I shouldn't have, like, assumed. You don't look old, really!"
He nodded a little and continued to unload the contents of his cart onto the counter.
"Good thinking to get a mask and gloves with it," she said after the brief pause. "Bleach can be pretty strong stuff. I should know; my mom uses it, like, all the time."
"It's a good cleaning product," he agreed.
She nodded, continuing to scan the items. Anthony was thankful she didn't probe any further. When she finished, she told him, "Okay, that'll be $71.82. How'll you be paying for that?"
He could feel the impact of the high cost, even if he was only covering the costs in the short-term. Knowing Thomas didn't have the money to spare bothered him greatly, yet he and Dianne didn't have much to drop on cleaning supplies either. The two of them lived comfortably in their humble home, enjoying a reasonably comfortable middle-class lifestyle. They were far from being rich, although Dianne's fashion sense would have said otherwise.
Reluctantly, Anthony drew his wallet to retrieve his credit card. As he made the payment, he could only hope Thomas would reimburse him soon.
He wheeled his purchases to his car, loading his trunk quickly. By the time he'd returned his cart and settled himself in the driver's seat, a wave of nausea had settled over him. The reality of his coming task was becoming clear; he was about to clean up a week-old corpse. If at all possible, it would be worse than it was in '87.
Maybe he should have listened to his wife.
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza - Sunday, January 16th, 1994
It took him a couple of trips to bring all of the supplies inside, setting them down just inside the entrance of the building. It wasn't much, but he at least made some effort to keep public suspicions to a minimum. Juggling the purchases proved to be more difficult than he anticipated due to his semi-reliance on the cane for support. He looked forward to the day he'd be fully healed.
Anthony dusted off his slacks despite knowing his clothes would be far from clean by the end of his task. He made a mental note to take advantage of one of the spare uniforms at work to get himself home afterward.
"Hey, Anthony!" Charlotte called from the stage. "What're you doing here so early?"
He jumped a little, turning to face her. "Oh, um, Charlotte! Hello hello! Sorry about that. I wasn't expecting to, uh, talk to anyone."
"We're always here, silly!" She laughed and added, "It was nice of you to come. Oh, and you can call me Chica. That's what I've gone by for the past few years, so I may as well stick with it."
"Yeah, and call me Bonnie," Bonnie added without warning. "I think it's only James, Reynard, and Gilead that go by their human names. Anyway, Chic's right: this place really blows."
Chica rolled her eyes. "Someone's optimistic," she teased.
"What? Nothing ever changes around here."
"Nothing?" Freddy challenged.
"Oh, hey Freddy!" Chica greeted. "Lovely of you to join us!"
"Happy to. Now, Bonnie," he addressed, "how could you say that after last week?"
Bonnie stamped his foot impatiently, his ear twitching slightly. "Okay, other than that."
Freddy chuckled. "Oh lighten up, Bonbon. I'm only teasing." At this Chica suppressed her giggles.
He threw his arms up in the air, turning away from the other two animatronics. "Oh my God, Freddy!" He let out a sound of disgust. "I'm so done."
He shrugged. "It's payback for the ID10T switch joke."
Bonnie simply let out a disgusted snort.
Chica couldn't control her laughter by this point. She went over to her boyfriend and hugged him from behind. "I love you~!" she cheered.
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too… traitor." As hard as he tried to appear annoyed, he couldn't hide the hint of a smile that had come to his face.
Anthony cleared his throat. "It's uh, nice to see you three getting along. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some cleaning to do before we reopen tomorrow."
"Oh, sorry. We won't keep you," Freddy said. "Happy cleaning!"
"Y-Yeah, thanks," Anthony mumbled, taking his supplies to the entrance of the Safe Room.
After a week, the stench of the rotting body had begun to spill out into the hall, causing him to scrunch his nose in disgust. Anthony reminded himself that he had a job to complete; the sooner he started, the sooner it'd be finished. He suited up, pulling the gloves, goggles, and face mask on. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Readying a garbage bag, he pried the door open, bracing himself for the worst.
As Anthony had expected, the odor was stronger than he remembered it being, causing him to retch immediately. He ducked back out of the room, removing his mask to throw up into the bag. Shakily, he replaced the mask and grabbed another bag before trying to re-enter the Safe Room.
On his second attempt, he managed to keep what remained of his breakfast in his stomach. Across the room sat the grimy, beaten down, animatronic suit. He could have sworn it had been in a different position when he and Thomas found it last week. He figured someone would have to be insane to approach it under typical circumstances. Clearly, someone crazier than him had done so for an unknown reason.
Threads and loose wires poked out from numerous places from head to toe. The worn holes that littered the fabric of the costume revealed ghastly patches of the decaying corpse, rivaling the smell for being the worst part. Anthony tried to ignore it as he got closer to get to work. He stopped to grab the springlock crank, mentally preparing himself for the grotesque sight and putrid odor that awaited him.
Anthony sat himself in front of the suit, mindful of his leg. He quietly said, "I'm so sorry, Porfirio. I'm sure this counts as desecrating a corpse, but I'm afraid this has to be done." He reached for the front panel of the suit, using the crank to loosen one of the many locks guarding the chest area.
He let his mind wander as he worked to make the task tolerable. It wasn't long before he was ready to move on to the second lock below it. As he worked on this one, he felt something grasp his wrist, followed by a familiar voice. "Don't."
Anthony screamed and fell back, tearing his hand free and leaving the tool attached to the suit. He watched the hand of the suit fall back down to its side.
"Help… me..." the suit groaned. It stared at him, offering a sharp twitch. With the fabric around the mouth disintegrating with age, the mask appeared to have a perpetual grin on its face. Contrary to it, the eyes reflected pain and sadness.
He simply stared, attempting to calm himself.
It twitched again. In a different, jolly and bright voice, it said with many skips, "Hey k-k-k-k-kids! W-W-Welcome to Fredbear's Famil-l-l-ly Diner!"
Anthony chanced moving closer.
"Stay back!" he heard the suit cry out in the first voice, filled with distress and panic. It then toggled to the other voice. "D-D-Did someone say it's th-th-th-their birthd-day?" Returning to the original voice, it cried out, "Help me!"
Anthony then recognized the distressed voice of his ex-friend. He took a deep breath before willing himself to coming closer, breathing through his mouth exclusively in an attempt to tolerate the rank odor. "Porfirio, uh, you're fine… kind of."
Porfirio coughed, causing an unknown, foul, fluid to dribble out from under the mask. Anthony gagged but held his ground. Porfirio clutched his head, muttering to himself. He soon said, "Anthony… Kill me. Please. Strike me in the head; do something."
His eyes widened. "But you're already, uh… dead."
"I'm still here. I-It hurts. They won't st-" he was interrupted by another programmed line from the original animatronic. When it finished speaking, Porfirio continued. "They keep laughing at me!"
"A-Alright, uh, calm down…" Anthony cleared his throat. 'I won't, uh, 'kill you', but I'll try to help you. I'll go get James."
The suit twitched once more. The animatronic's voice said, "L-Let's here another one, Fredb-b-b-bear!"
Anthony gave him a sympathetic look before fleeing the room. He went, as fast as he could with a cane, down the hall toward Prize Corner. Although he still wasn't over his irrational fear of James, his urgency gave him the courage he needed to overlook it. He rapped on the lid of the gift box he resided in and waited, resisting the urge to pace.
James emerged shortly after, peering at Anthony with a raised brow. "Anthony, what are you doing here?"
He tore his mask off. "Come quick! Porfirio needs help!"
He tensed. "Oh, so now he needs my help? I don't think so. Last time he tried to 'help me', it ended with my body being found cold and lifeless."
"James, please!" Anthony begged. "I-I know he's hurt you, a-and, uh-"
"He's done more than 'hurt me'," James retorted. "Besides, he shouldn't still be here."
He shifted from foot to foot, glancing at the floor. "I don't know how he's, uh, here, b-but he is. Despite what he did, I don't want him to suffer, you know?"
"He said it himself: he got what he deserved. That's what Gilead told me."
Anthony frowned. "Are you even listening to yourself? I mean, don't you want to be better than that?"
He stared him down, subtle anger burning in his synthetic eyes.
He sighed. "Could you help him for me, then?" he asked. "Think of his girlfriend. She was devastated that he was gone. Haruka and I miss him, a-and I hate watching him suffer."
James let out a frustrated sigh, stepping out of his box. "Fine, I'll tie his soul to the suit. That's it."
Anthony smiled slightly. "Thank you." He hastily put the mask back over his mouth.
"I'm doing this for you and Haruka. Don't think for a second that I want anything to do with that monster." He glided down the hall, not uttering another word. By the time he and Anthony arrived back at the Safe Room, the suit Porfirio resided in was sprawled on its side, the intact ear twisted at an uncomfortable-looking angle.
James narrowed his eyes and marched over to him. He closed his eyes momentarily, his hand glowing in the same iridescent purple it had earlier. Anthony watched with awe, doing his best to keep quiet as James worked his magic. James raised his black-and-white striped arm sharply before swiftly bringing it down into the suit body, passing through it without restraint. Yanking it back forcefully, a human figure was taken with it. It was Porfirio, appearing helpless and distressed.
James held him up by the shirt collar, glaring daggers. "How does it feel?" he growled. "How does it feel to be dead? Not too nice, is it?"
Porfirio was silent. Instead, he simply met James' eyes, a forlorn look behind them.
His voice raised in pitch, verging on hysterical. "Why won't you say anything?" He shook Porfirio several times.
"I'm sorry," Porfirio said quietly, looking away.
"Sorry! That's all you have to say?" James screamed, his voice wavering. "I was just a kid! You tricked me! I'll never forgive you!"
"I know. I don't deserve it."
"You don't deserve anything! You don't deserve to be here!"
Porfirio closed his eyes. "Let me go, then."
His hand shook; his fingers let him slip a little. James hesitated before hurling the soul of his killer at the wall, attached to a string of life. Porfirio hit the wall roughly, as if he were a solid being, before landing in a heap on the floor, not far from the suit containing his body.
"James!" Anthony exclaimed, eyes wide, darting between the two of them. "Don't hurt him!"
"It's not fair!" James shrieked, clutching the end of the spirit-string in his hand. He took a deep breath, returning his voice to a normal volume. "W-Why does he get to stay?" He let his eyes drift to Porfirio for a brief moment. "Do souls get stronger with age…?"
"I don't know," said Anthony, "but don't torture Porfirio. Please. He can't, uh, fix it. B-But you can. You've got a gift. Y-You can control life."
He looked down at the string. "I didn't ask for this. I wanted to be a normal kid. Instead, I grew up in this… thing, at what should have been the best place ever. But, I've been trapped here. I haven't even been outside since we changed locations. I haven't had parents, either." James frowned. "Do you think I wanted to have this kind of power? I didn't know I had it until I was… seven?" He shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I won't ever know if I would be in the same spot if I were alive."
"It's not that bad!" he encouraged him. "Without it, none of you would be here."
James nodded slightly.
"Those powers aren't all bad." Anthony started watching Porfirio, who had begun to stir, sitting himself up. From what Anthony could gather, he had completely given up. "Could you tie him to the suit? Please, use your gift to do good."
James sighed, nodded, and approached the horrendous machine. Not looking at Porfirio, he asked, "Do you want him to be able to leave the suit or not?"
"I'd like it if-" Porfirio began.
"I'm not talking to you," he dismissed. "I'm asking Anthony." Porfirio nodded slightly, hanging his head with the bleak hope of a prisoner destined for execution.
Anthony watched Porfirio for a few moments. "Uh, maybe a bit of room for him to leave would be nice."
Wordlessly, James fastened the soul of Porfirio to the damaged animatronic, allowing for no more than a few meters of the string between Porfirio and his new body. "That should do it," he said once he had finished. "You're staying in here. I don't want you here; no one does. Besides, you'll scare off the customers in the condition you're in."
"Thank you," Anthony said on his behalf.
James nodded slightly and left the room, presumably to take refuge in his box once more.
Anthony came to Porfirio's side. "How are you, uh, feeling?"
"Better, I guess," he replied, sitting up properly. "I don't feel that thing trying to push me aside anymore. They haven't stopped but at least I can talk over them."
"Uh… that's good?"
Porfirio nodded. He glanced at the suit and frowned.
"I, uh, still need to clean that out. I'm sorry. I-I know it isn't easy to stomach, but…"
"It has to be done." He floated to his suit, slipping through it and disappearing inside. The eyes to the suit flickered on, glowing brighter than they had before. Porfirio blinked, sat himself up, then looked down at himself. "Well, let's get this done and over with." He reached for the mask, using both hands to pry it off of his head. He cried out but didn't stop.
Anthony gagged, diverting his gaze immediately.
He looked at him after taking it off. "What? I'm helping." He held the the head in front of himself, looking through the eyes of his new body at the aged mask that concealed the grotesque endoskeleton and his crushed corpse just moments ago. He set it aside. He sat still for a moment before leaving the suit. He paused to take a look at what had become of his corpse. "Wow, aren't I handsome," Porfirio deadpanned. Then, he stifled a laugh, bursting out into full hysterical laughter within moments. He had to wipe tears that had come to his eyes from how hard he was laughing. "My God, Howard, just look at this sexy thing!"
"Aren't you bothered by the fact it's your body?" Anthony mumbled, doing the opposite of what was asked of him.
"A little." Despite his vague concern, he oogled at his own corpse for a while longer before adding, "That dead woman in The Shining was pretty realistic. Look at the sagging, blistering green skin… Clearly they knew what they were doing."
Anthony cleared his throat loudly.
"Too much?"
"Just a little."
Porfirio shrugged. "You don't get to see your own decaying body every day."
He shuddered.
"How much better would that scene have been if they'd seen this thing?"
"Porfirio, I really don't want to know," he said firmly.
He raised his arms in defeat. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I was just having some fun with you."
Anthony sharply said, "This relationship is strictly professional. Let's just get this done, okay?"
"What do you mean? Aren't we friends?" He glanced over his shoulder, flashing him a subtle frown and raised eyebrow.
"Just... get in the suit and help me."
Porfirio silently did as he was told, relighting the eyes of the suit once he had settled back inside. Anthony passed him the crank to the suit, which he used to unlock the suit. He pried the torso open and asked, "Why aren't we friends?"
Unlike his usual self, Anthony didn't speak. He didn't even look up from his nightmarish task.
"Anthony?"
"Just… shut up, okay? I-I don't want to talk," he said as calmly as he could while handling the gruesome human remains.
Porfirio took the hint, using the crank to remove the costume pieces that contained what remained of his arm.
Hours into their job, Porfirio made another attempt at conversation. "Why don't you want to talk to me? You usually like to talk."
Anthony didn't reply for several moments before he began to ramble, his anger spewing out of him with every word that passed his lips. "Because you tried to kill me! You're the reason why I've been lying to my wife for the past ten years we've been married for, because I've been unknowingly saving your sorry ass from ending up in jail!"
His eyes widened. "It's not like you to talk like that…"
"I'm tired of it; the lies, the secrets… all of this," he continued on, as if he hadn't heard him. "We both know this is a dead-end, go-no-where job, yet I've been stuck here for my entire working life for reasons I don't know. M-Maybe it's because I feel like I owe it to Thomas to make sure no one finds out what really happened."
Porfirio looked away. "I'm sorry."
"You sure seemed like it after you went back for another five after the first," he said bitterly.
"They were after me!"
"Do you really believe that?" Anthony chided. "Do you really believe I was after you, too? How do you expect me to just 'go back to normal' after that? I-I'm still using a cane to get around. And when you have to carry all that bleach at the same time… it's tough, you know?"
Sincere guilt filled his otherwise lifeless eyes. Instead of continuing the conversation, Porfirio took hold of the scrubber brush beside him and attempted to remove some of the blood stains from his new body. Neither of them spoke again until the old animatronic costume was mostly restored to its previous green-tinted gold colour.
"I'm sorry, Anthony," he finally said. "They told me you were after me. They told me everyone is after me. Even Haruka…"
"Why did you listen to them?"
"I didn't have a choice."
"Yeah, right."
"I mean it!" he insisted. "They kept warning me, telling me they'd kill me! Don't you know how angry they get if I don't listen?"
Anthony frowned. "You really couldn't ignore those voices, could you?"
"They're not just 'voices'. They're real."
He sighed. "Okay, well, whatever they are, the point is, you're saying you didn't have a choice?"
Porfirio shook his head.
Anthony didn't speak for an uncomfortably long period of time. When he did, he said, "I need to call Thomas… tell him you're still here."
"See you tomorrow?" He stood, teetering as he adjusted to his new body.
"Uh… Sure, I guess." Anthony cleared his throat and departed from the Safe Room.
Porfirio looked around the cramped room, frowning at sullen faces of the empty costumes that surrounded him. He removed one from one of the shelves, staring into its eyeless sockets. "I guess it's just you and me," he said. "We can be friends, right?"
There's no one here. You only have us.
He gripped the mask tightly. "I miss her."
She never loved you.
"Kowalski did…"
They hate you. They're glad you're gone.
He looked into the dusty screen of one of the abandoned arcade machines that lined the far wall, staring at the monstrosity that was now his body. He brought his hand to the glass, watching as the image mirrored him and confirmed the reality of his fate. Porfirio crumpled to his knees, hugging himself and letting out wracked, tearless, sobs. He was alone and forgotten, as his victims had been.