Dylan recoiled his hand into his chest, the pain surging through his body. He turned to Springtrap with disgust and rage threatening to boil over. Springtrap's grin seemed just a little wider and he cocked his head to the side, as if he were a puppy.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" Dylan's voice boomed against the small office's wall. He hated Springtrap, how odd and absurd he was and how he acted like staff were play things. Literally.
"I think I-I might have malfunctionedddd. Could-d-d you have someoneeee service me?" He sputtered, and Dylan rolled his eyes dubiously. The pain in his hand flared again and Dylan hissed in agony.
"Drop the fucking act. You KNOW you aren't fooling anyone; how long do you think this can go on?" Dylan asked rhetorically. "You act like I wasn't in her shoes," Dylan threw in his head in the direction of where Peyton sat crying down the hall, "at one time. I know what you are, and I know better than anyone what you do."
Springtrap's ear twitched, and he ducked under the doorway and stepped into the office. He closed the distance between himself and Dylan, close enough that Dylan's shoes touched his large metal feet. Dylan instinctively flinched but held his ground.
"You do not know me. You know him. Your mortality mixed with your stupidity is a deadly cocktail."
Dylan stayed still, afraid to move, but bold enough to speak.
"How long do you think you can go on murdering people before someone catches on?" Dylan scoffed, astounded at this bot's disgusting arrogance.
"Well, how many did he injure or kill? Three, maybe four? This place is almost lawless, almost like it's not sown in with reality. Your company - your bosses - keep writing off deaths as accidental or the safety negligence on the employee's part, and hire more young naïve souls who need a job or starve. You think I'm the monster? I'm the bullet, not the hired gun. They let me play, I bring them money. Everything else and everyone else is collateral, your life can be written off with a check and your family suddenly is hush hush." Springtrap mockingly brought one finger up to his mouth and looked down at Dylan. Dylan stared back with fire in his eyes, but knew there was nothing he could say.
He knew Fazbear Entertainment was a sickly corrupt company, and unfortunately most people only discovered that after they had been hired. Everyone was so caught up in the deaths at the restaurants themselves and the singing animals, they often forgot the company that owned those restaurants. They looked at it through a narrow peep hole and couldn't see the bigger picture. And in all that fine print upon being hired, they made you sign a liability form. Expect there's was hundreds of pages to discourage to you actually read it, like a Terms of Service on the computer. Click 'yes' and keep it moving, like most people do. But if you actually read it, they black mark you to any future employer if you leave them. Fazbear literally traps you into being their slave, destroying your employment record upon joining them and there's nothing you can do about it because YOU signed that it was okay. You let them destroy your life.
They had already destroyed his, and there was nothing he could do. As some sort of sick joke, they allowed him to move from night guard to 'regional manager' after Springtrap left him broken and bleeding. A building hadn't even been selected for the attraction to open but they found the sadistic animatronic sealed away at one of the older chains. They transported him to a warehouse where Dylan was hired to keep watch over him while the horror attraction was prepared for public display. For the most part it was an easy job, he roamed the halls with idle thoughts and aching for a way to kill the hours till sunrise. Springtrap was deactivated for months while Dylan worked, until for some reason he awoke. The worker's compensation report claimed an 'electric surge' caused him to activate but Dylan knew that was bullshit. Springtrap trudged through the halls, not really searching for anything in particular. But as soon as he locked eyes with Dylan, a feral growl rip through his aged body. Dylan tried to barricade himself in a storage closet but Springtrap ripped the door off effortlessly and advanced on him. Springtrap broke his arm, 3 ribs, punctured a lung and left him with internal bleeding when the assault ended. The work crew found Dylan in the coming hours, with Springtrap returning to the spot he initially activated from.
Fazbear Entertainment covered all of his medical bills and physical therapy. The attraction's opening was delayed, and well dressed, ice cold lawyers from the company descended on Dylan. They sat in his hospital room, with the constant beep of his heartbeat monitor in the background, told him his legal options. He could sue the company in civil court, with a lawyer of his own versus Fazbear's lawyers for all or nothing. Or he could be promoted to a regional manager with minimal contact with the 'actors', as they put it, and highly increased pay. Considering the aforementioned black list on his employment record and no money in the bank to even find the shittiest lawyer, what choice did he have?
So here he stood, in front of a 1,000-pound mechanical demon, in a shitty horror attraction with crumbling walls and stale air, and a snuffed out future with the world outside. Dylan sighed in defeat, pulling his eyes away from the beast and looked at the floor. After a moment, he looked back at Springtrap apathetically.
"I don't care if you kill me." He began for the exit, not caring if the machine snatched his life away as he passed.
Springtrap just clicked his jaw, and replied, "And that's why I never will."
Dylan paused at the door, his hand resting on the bar. He debated if he should say something in response, but thought it unnecessary. He continued into the winter air to the hospital, leaving Springtrap behind.
Hell for some people is walking right here on Earth… Springtrap thought to himself. He thought on Dylan's mortal suffering for a moment longer, but Peyton's soft whimpering kept pecking into his attention. Peyton?
He knew he had to end their time soon, the longer it drew out, the more attached he became and the more likely she was to flee and not return. Springtrap twitched his ear in disappointment at his thought, but he knew the validity of it. It needed to be done.
Peyton finally got the tears to stop. It had been silent for a long time and Springtrap had not bothered her. It sounded like he hadn't even moved from the office. Maybe he would keep his word? She took in a breath and shakily rose to her feet. She wiped her puffy eyes and stumbled towards the hallway.
She felt more confident, after she came through on their wicked deal.
"Springtrap?" She called loudly. She heard that signature clanking of heavy metal. "No, don't come." She called in response. The clanking stopped.
A small smile touched her lips, the fact that the insane lapin had actually listened to her directions.
"Can you turn on some more lights? I'm so sick of it being near total darkness in here." She wanted to test the limits of her privilege, see how far she could go. The clanking picked up again, but away from her. She heard some metal screech and some soft clicks and the lights began humming before the artificial light came on fully. It wasn't super bright but it was decent for the building and a thousand times better than before. Springtrap returned to the end of the hallway, looking at her curiously.
"Is that better for you?" he hummed to her from down the hall, careful to approach. She nodded, still internally amused by all of this, as if she had already forgotten his threats in her ear an hour earlier.
"It is, thank you. If I walk past you to get some of my things, are you going to hurt me?" His head shook. "Alright then." She made her way for the door that the blood lustful rabbit stood, and he made room for her to get through. She continued but behind her, he asked, in an almost shy tone, "May I come with you?"
"I don't care what you do, Springtrap, as long as those paws are kept to yourself." Peyton called behind her, as if she were talking to an over talkative co-worker. She ventured to the 'break room,' a sad space with an ancient, moldy refrigerator in the corner, a counter with a peeling surface, an off white table with withered chairs and dim lighting. Peyton fished through the fridge, pulling out an apple that seemed fresh enough. She plopped down in the cheap chair and spun the apple around in her hand, examining the dull red skin. Springtrap stood in the doorway once more, awkward when he wasn't advancing in malice. Peyton pulled her eyes to him and sighed, the excitement beginning to die down and boredom creeping in its place.
"So… what are you about?" She asked, breaking the eternity of silence.
"What?"
"You know… Why are you like this?" She clarified, annoyed with his coyness.
"It would take much too long to explain, but I know that I wasn't always. I wasn't anything, I was a machine just like your phone or a computer. Unaware. And there was a time in between him and how I am now, where I was truly myself." Springtrap answered, leaning his large body against the wall and crossing his leg. Peyton noted how human he acted in the candid moment. She drew back and processed what he had told her.
"We have time. And him? Who is this other person?"
She waited for his answer, but he just remained silent and watched her. She shrugged it off and took a wet bite out of her apple. She made a quick glance at him, and felt pure hatred in his stare. In the moment after that, Springtrap was a blur and against her in a second. He had a titan grip around her throat and it was getting tighter. Peyton clawed at his fingers, pieces of his olive fur trapping under her fingernails. Veins bulged in her face and neck, her legs kicked and flailed. Springtrap's face, although froze in expression, his eyes were lit with rage. His body shivered as he strangled her, raising his voice louder than she thought he was capable of, "ALL HE TALKED ABOUT WAS WHAT IT MEANT TO BE HUMAN. TO BREATHE IN FRESH AIR, TAKE A SHOWER, EAT. HOW BEING A MACHINE, BEING ME, WAS A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH. IS IT? IS IT?! WHY DO YOU GET TO EXPERIENCE LIFE AND I'M LEFT TO ROT?!" His voice boomed near the end and Peyton was beginning to black out. Her eyes rolled back and tears weakly fell in resignation. Suddenly, she crumpled to the floor, gasping and coughing for air. Her eyes darted around the room and Springtrap was back against the wall, fists clinched and jaw clicking. Peyton brought a hand to her throat, rubbing the sore flesh, not taking her eyes off him. His body stopped quaking and he loosened his fists, never breaking his stare either. He calmed completely and sighed.
"I'm sorry. I wish I was in control all the time, but I'm not. I guess that segways to who 'he' is perfectly." Peyton threw the apple out the door way beside him and backed into the corner like a scared animal (that's exactly what she was). Springtrap would have frowned if he could. Still, he continued. "I'm sorry, Peyton. Really I am. Once I explain, it'll make sense, and hopefully make you feel better." He slid down the wall slowly preparing to share the extensive story, spreading his legs in a V as he descended, as if he were a child playing with a toy. "When I was first created, I know that I was not truly aware of the world. Or at the very least, my programming was limited. I lived in a family diner as part of a singing duo, if you can believe that. I was in much better shape, a brilliant yellow and not so desolate looking. I sung with a bear of the same hue, Fredbear, and we performed for children. If nothing else, I remember distinctly that I loved the children. They brought purpose and meaning into my life and I was eternally grateful that they allowed me to entertain them. I was built by a brilliant engineer and often had people from corporations in robotics come to inspect me, for reasons just like this. I could talk, truly interact with humans. Of course much better now with a mind of my own, but I still thought about and carried on conversations. And my second, and probably most important feature. I... am wearble." He stopped here, expecting (correcting) a response from Peyton. Her mouth opened, then closed once again, dumbfounded. Finally, she mumbled out the question of how. "My internal frame is designed to be cranked back with a special wrench, allowing a human enough room to climb inside and parade around in me like a mascot. It's shotty and extremely prone to failure but it is possible. Regardless, my bear companion and I both shared this trait. However, a child was murdered in the diner and it was closed. Fredbear and I were shipped to the next restaurant and someone murdered more children there using the Fredbear suit. This occurs one more time at a different location and Fredbear and I are completely decommissioned and store away. However, the man that began the string of murders, the man who hid behind the mask, the man who started all of this? Long story short, he climbed into me, like he had climbed into Fredbear to kill those children, expect with me, it was different. He didn't climb out." He paused once more, allowing Peyton to process the reality of what he told her. Her eyes grew eyes with horror and she looked at him as if he were a leper.
"W-w… What do you mean?! Where is he?! Are you him?!"
"Yes and no. My spring locks malfunctioned, and he was killed inside me. His rotting corpse and venomous spirit intertwined with me, and we became one for a long, long time. Two minds sharing the same body. He expanded my knowledge of the world, whispering to me things of lust and envy and love. He told me way lay beyond the walls of a children's pizza joint, how I would never experience those things other than through his memories. I would be given the gift to 'understand humanity' if I allowed him to possess my body. I agreed, although I don't think I had much of a choice looking back. I think he even knew he was torturing me and that was what he was after. He began the onslaught. He killed without prejudice, every night guard I encountered was prey. He convinced me killing them was a mercy from poverty or heartbreak. And over time, I began to think how he did. See the world through his eyes. They only recently removed his corpse from my body, right before you started. His spirit no longer dwells in me, but he's definitely left his mark."
Peyton had no idea what to say, what sounded true, what sounded like bullshit. It was so much to take in, and even if she DID accept it as the truth blindly, that made him even more dangerous. He AGREED with the mentality of a child killer?! This was too much, this couldn't be real life. Why did she ever feel like it was okay to let her guard down around this monster? He was blocking the door to the breaking room, which meant he was indirectly blocking the door to exit, and blocking her chance at living. The air in room seemed thick and poisonous at this point and Peyton grew panicked. Springtrap noticed her behavior changed silently, ready to snuff out the flame of her life if she bolted. Peyton just looked into his devilish eyes and pleaded softly,
"I just want to live…"
Springtrap hummed, rising to his feet. "I want you to, too. You just have to behave." Malice dripped off those words, revealing that he clearly regretting letting his prey know too much, angry with himself for attempting to care for and bond with her.