Yay, more updates! Does this mean I may actually finish this story at some point?
I hope so, because if this thing ends up finishing after Scott's latest project (A Freddy Fazbear RPG? You have me curious) then I will be severely annoyed with myself.
Yet again, this chapter is more about plot and exposition than it is combat, though I tried to have a good fight scene in it as well. I will warn you, though; this is where things really do start to take a turn for the worst as we see more of the background between the Toy Incident and now.
Hang on tight, folks. Here we go.
I glanced over the screens yet again, keeping one eye on Springtrap's current position. He grinned menacingly, looking up at the camera with those menacing, glowing eyes. I couldn't help but shudder slightly; even in his mangled, decimated form, he still managed to look intimidating. I stared right back into the tablet, holding his gaze; I'd beaten this defective arrangement of parts several times before, I can beat him again now.
He chuckled darkly, gazing into the camera. "Ah, glad to see you're still with me, Mr. Redding… After all, the real fun hasn't started yet. I'm sure you're starting to dredge up some bad memories now, hmmm? Perhaps of how you lost ally after ally, friend after friend…" He shrugged a bit, shaking his head. "Oh, but where are my manners? I'm sure you're curious to find out where I found what I needed to get this suit – and don't get me wrong, all that it was before I came was a suit – to the situation you see me in?" Another dark chuckle. "Very well, Mr. Redding… I will give you a few details.
"You see, it began shortly after you destroyed me… I had known you were coming, so I made a backup of my data to the only other server I could locate. When it activated, I knew that you'd 'killed' my old body… So I began to plan. When news clippings began to show, discussing the occurrences, it wasn't hard for me to piece together the beginnings of a plan… But I'll get to that. First, my suit. I'd found it in an old Freddy Fazbear's location, after hacking the security cameras and managing to hear about a 'safe room' of sorts. It took little effort to get someone to confirm its presence… But it had no endoskeleton. I would need to find one.
"To locate a mechanical endo at this point would be nearly impossible. Golden Mile was being thoroughly investigated, Fazbear Entertainment was in a massive lawsuit, and even Uncanny Valley robots would look very curious being shipped to a Fazbear site. But then, I discovered something… Interesting. Mr. Redding, we both know what happened to Damien Mitchell, and we both know also that he was a very influential cultist. But something you may not have known…"
He grinned menacingly, eyes flashing in the camera. "Mr. Mitchell had an accomplice. One that had an affinity for the color purple, and also had experience with Fazbear Entertainment… Furthermore, one that could 'act' mental and emotional trauma in an incredible way. You've met him, Mr. Redding… But I'll leave it up to you to discover who it is.
"Regardless, I came up with a plan… I was developing the psychosis gas that you are currently suffering the effects of, so who better to test it on than the murderer that got away? I sent him a message, detailing that I knew everything, and to come to the location if he didn't want me to send it to law enforcement. Naturally, he came – armed of course – and set about trying to find me.
"I had my accomplice release the gas into the vents." My brain came to a full halt at that. Accomplice? All I could think of at the moment was the RAT folder that Faz had left me, and the warning he'd left to not look into Candy's… I shook my head. "Oh yes, Mr. Redding. I have an accomplice… Or rather, 'had'. He left me behind after I had my new body… Speaking of which.
"The gas brought one of his fears to life in his mind. From what I was able to gather… He hallucinated that the ghosts of the children he murdered were coming to get him, coming to enact revenge… They herded him into the spare room, where the suit is. He saw the suit, remembered his former crimes – using the suits as a method to hide his identity from the kids – and climbed in.
"What he didn't know was that it was one of Fazbear Entertainment's… Less trustworthy machines, the SpringLock suit. A suit that could be used as both animatronic and personal suit, by using a spring-lock system and crank to retract the various portions of suit so a human can fit. He climbed into the suit, thinking he was safe… But then, my accomplice managed to release the springlocks.
"You can imagine what happened next. Quite simply, I processed him into a 'drone'… And transferred my AI into his brain. So thus, you see… This."
He grasped his head, pulling the mouth wide… And my eyes widened as I saw what was within. A human head, flesh mummified and clinging to the skull, with bulging eyes… I could tell from a glance that the body had died in agony… Easily over four years ago, possibly five.
"So there it is, Mr. Redding. My tale of how I continue to haunt you… But speaking of haunts, I believe another old 'friend' wants to make her presence known." With that, the camera cut to static… Before coming clear again, in a shot of one of the old arcade machines…
Except, instead of a game, there was a black and white negative of Chica's face, looking badly burned and mangled, staring at me. My head swam as my memories kicked in…
It was roughly a month after Faz had left. I'd decided to honor his last request, leaving the RAT folder shelved unless something major came up; I figured that even if I looked into it, I'd end up having to turn everything over to the Toys and let them handle the situation. At this point, the rest of the gang was all working. Freddy had taken to stand-up comedy, unsurprisingly; Bonnie supported him quite well. Foxy and I worked together on investigations, and Chica had actually opened up a restaurant. Foxy, Freddy, Bonnie and I were planning on meeting there for lunch one day.
We'd met roughly two or three blocks away, with the intention of walking in, catching up, and grabbing a seat. We knew Chica would be there, and we also knew that it would be a great time in general. Three blocks away, we met and started chatting happily amongst ourselves; Foxy and Bonnie were gossiping away, though… She seemed a bit off. She excused it as forgetting to unplug and getting an overcharge on her battery, which Freddy jokingly responded by saying, "So that's why you've been pouncing me so much!" We had a good laugh, dodged some paparazzi, and continued on.
Two blocks away, I felt something… Off. The same kind of off I'd felt when I first went into Freddy Fazbear's, the same kind of off I felt when I read about the reopening. I knew better than to question it, so I turned to the others and brought up my worries. This put us all on guard, and we moved slower along this block, eyes open and wondering if anything would happen. Nothing came up, but the sensation remained… I pushed it away, trying to focus on having a good time with my friends.
One block away, and all hell broke loose. We heard a loud WHOOOMP sound from the direction we were going. We shared a quick look, then bolted straight for Chica's diner… rounding the corner, we were shocked to see the entire building enveloped in flames. Immediately we were dialing emergency response, and everyone we could get in touch with. While I made phone calls, Foxy and Bonnie were looking the place over, trying to see if Chica was out of it, or if she was okay. We couldn't find her. Getting more and more worried, we waited for the fire department to arrive…
After a few long moments, plus a good half hour of firefighting, they evacuated the building as it simply collapsed in on itself. Another hour later, they found something and called me over.
It was a massive, scorched, burned husk… But even so, I recognized the scraps of yellow feathers surrounding it. Bonnie held Freddy tight, and Foxy gasped. I stood there, dumbfounded.
Chica was gone. With her processor incinerated, and no way of finding any backups – if there even were any – she was dead.
We held a funeral a few months later, the mayor offering to foot the bill for the entire event. The entire city turned out to mourn one of its dead heroes.
I remembered that date all too well. A week after the funeral was when I had my first drink of whiskey, discovered I liked the way it seemed to burn the darkness and sadness I felt away, and didn't stop. The city investigated, and ruled the whole thing to be a freak accident; a gas leak had gone up when Chica – who had closed the restaurant early so she could spend quality time with us – attempted to light the stove and start cooking. I always felt like it was my fault, that if I hadn't agreed to meeting at Chica's, she'd still be alive…
But apparently, her ghost was planning on taking that job as she charged me, knocking the camera out of my way and throwing me through the office door.
"YOU DID THISSSSSSSSS!" I froze for a long moment, leaving an opening for her to draw a menacingly long and sharp kitchen knife, starting to swing it at me. I caught it with a machete blade, before sighing. Apparently I had no choice but to defend myself… I swung back, catching her in the knee joint with the flat of my blade and coming up with a rising knee kick that knocked her beak off and her off of me.
She staggered back to her feet with a shocking amount of speed, producing what seemed like a sizzling-hot frying pan from another burned, withered opening within her mangled frame and swinging it at me. I could feel the heat as I blocked it with the other blade, kicking forward to try and grab some distance… And screaming in pain as she dug the knife blade into my ankle. I went down, swearing the entire way and she was right on top of me, raising that burning pan high…
I pulled a magnum out and fired two shots up, directly into her gaping, beakless mouth. This knocked her back and I pressed the offensive, unloading the revolver into her body and then starting to swing the blades again and again. I took a chunk off of her side, then cut through one of her knee joints and nearly severed the leg, diving both blades into her chest-
I knew I'd made a mistake when they stuck for a moment, and had it confirmed by the burning hot skillet hitting me in the side. I screamed in pain, swearing audibly as I struggled back to my feet once more. She hissed at me again… Thinking quickly, I pulled one of the smoke grenades from my belt and – remembering the fight back at the first Fazbear's – tugged the pin and stuck it directly into her mouth.
The effects were clear as the smoke released into her form, leaking out of the many holes in her suit… But enough of it had gotten into her ventilation system – so clogged with grease and grime from so much time spent cooking – that she was screeching and hacking away as she tried to regain some form of stability. I decided that was a good chance to come in and slash away the knife she was holding, cutting her hand completely off and causing the blade to drop.
I felt the pain searing through my side and up my leg from my ankle as I charged in, stabbing into her with both blades once more… And swearing as they stuck again, preventing me from eviscerating her. I settled for what I had on hand, releasing the blades and throwing a quick one-two punch to her face, following it up with an uppercut that knocked her flat on her back. She came back to her feet swinging that burning-hot frying pan.
I immediately tugged one of my batons out, striking it against the surface of her pan, wincing as I heard the polymer material burning from the impact. The other one came out a moment later, coming down hard on a blow to her head. I followed it up by swinging at her knees in unison, causing her to go down to them and bringing my leg up in a rising knee kick… That successfully knocked her head completely off.
However, this didn't seem to stop her as she started flailing the pan around aimlessly, screeching in rage and agony as she did so, trying to hit me by sheer luck. I cringed as I felt the narrow end of the pan hit against my arm, hoping it hadn't just broke… What would it take to stop her?
My eyes widened as an idea came to mind. It might not work at all, but it was worth a shot… And with Chica's ventilation system finally clearing the smoke from my grenade out, I only had one chance at this. I kicked at her knee joint again, dropping the batons and grasping one of my blades tightly. A few good pulls, and it was free of her chest, knocking her back again. She growled, getting to her feet and pouncing on me, pinning me down and raising her burning pan high…
I moved quickly, managing to get one arm free long enough to slice her other hand off, grabbing it in my free hand and forcing the hot pan into her core. There was the sound of burning grease, sizzling, and then… Just as I managed to wiggle out from underneath her, she burst into flames as the heat ignited the build-up of grease.
I groaned, looking down and going to my knee to nurse my ankle as she burned… Before I noticed I didn't feel a heat from my burned side anymore, though the pain from my stabbed ankle was still there, and it was still bleeding a fair bit. I looked up… Sure enough, she was gone. Grumbling to myself, I rose to go back into the security office…
And between the sudden heart palpitations sending waves of pain through my chest, the aching in my arm signaling a potential heart attack, and the agony in my leg, I went right back down on my face. Slowly I managed to drag myself in, breathing heavily and trying not to go over the edge before resetting the ventilation system, getting a few more gulps of clean air which gave me time to bandage my wounds once again. I scowled at the cameras as I flipped through them, seeing that Springtrap had once more moved closer, giving him a menacing look.
Keep coming, you freak. I've got a nasty surprise for you.
Oh no, Chica! Seems that we've found where Alex's fall into depression began... And it's not gonna improve from here out, folks.
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