Mable: Here we are with the newest chapter! Again, a little nervous with this one, so… Brace yourself, and I hope you enjoy!

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Seven

The rest of the week had been mostly uneventful. Mike and Marionette had fallen into a pseudo routine of some kind. Mike would go to work, he would do any other tasks needed, and then he would come back to the house and spend his evenings with Marionette. During the day he would do everything that needed to be done, involving his actual apartment, what little social life he had, and occasionally popping by the warehouse. Unfortunately, Sam had been busy with various things and their investigation had been temporarily stuck on the backburner.

That being said, Mike hadn't yet gotten the nerve to try and coax Marionette to talk about what he knew. It had only been a few days and he feared the other would shut down for good. The closest that Mike had gotten was asking about the Golden Freddy plush, which the Puppet was purposely vague about. All he had said was that he had it for many years and that it was a rare plush, insisting that he had yet to see another like it. Mike wasn't sure what he meant by that, but assumed this was why neither he nor Sam could find any others.

Either way, the weekend came and Natalie was still free, so the plan to go out for drinks was still on. "You're sure you're fine with this?" Mike felt the need to ask again as he pulled on his jacket and prepared to step out. The Puppet was on the floor in front of the couch with a mound of plush toys to his left and a box of sewing supplies to his right. Unbelievably, the Puppet knew how to sew, and after finding a tear on a Bonnie started to go through all of them searching for things that needed mending. Mike had no idea that he sewed, but assumed it was so he could mend himself.

He didn't seem like the type to let someone work on him. The Fredbear cartoon was on the television again. Another thing Mike had noticed about Marionette was his pickiness about the cartoon that he constantly kept on. When he was watching it he would watch the first season, but when he was using it as background noise alone he would play the second season too, and only then. Mike crossed over and sat down on the couch, not in a rush to head out the door. His interest was taken by a plush toy that looked somewhat like the Golden Freddy plush, except that it was Bonnie.

He lifted it and noticed that it had a weight to it. Almost like there was some sort of mechanism inside. "Careful," Marionette chimed in, still stitching on a Chica's arm seam. "He's a finger-trap." Mike was a little amused, "I wasn't intending to stick my finger in its mouth. What is it, one of those talking, moving toys?" The Puppet finally looked over, "It was. They were popular, but were mostly defective. Most stopped working after a week." The human noticed all of the holes on it where the internal parts had worn through the thin, plush exterior.

"I can already see that you're going to have a blast sewing this one," Mike sarcastically remarked. "Why haven't you brought this one out at all? I haven't seen it before." Marionette seemed to get a slight bit of a scowl on his face, "It's not one of my favorites. I never liked it." Mike quipped a brow with a mix of amusement and curiosity, "Then why don't you just get rid of it?" The scowl was gone and the normal smile returned, "But then I'd break my collection! We can't have that, regardless of how hideous he is." There was a chuckle and he continued stitching.

"Alright, then I'm taking off," Mike started to stand. "I'll be back way before Midnight, so don't worry about anything. Keep the doors closed and locked, don't go staring people down out the window, and Sam shouldn't be coming by, but if he does just leave him be, okay?" The Puppet was amused by the list and yet gave a quick nod. Mike then headed out the door, got into his car, and drove to the bar. He didn't intend to drink more than one drink and was prepared to eat while he was there, so he thought it would be fine to drive himself to the bar.

The bar was small and styled in a pub fashion. It seemed homely and warm, and because it was a Sunday night there actually wasn't that many people inside. Natalie was already stationed on a bar stool. She hadn't worn the uniform like she offered and instead wore something casual. It didn't look like typical 'date' clothes, which made Mike feel more comfortable. "Hey, don't I know you somewhere?" Mike teased as he sat down on the stool beside him. Natalie pursed her lips and hummed, "I don't know. There's only one person who can make a joke that bad… Oh, Mike, hey! I didn't recognize you without your security garb!"

Natalie then gave Mike a nudge in the arm to show that she was joking back. "You're late, by the way, I already got started." She gestured to her drink; a small glass of something pink and frothy. "…On Pepto?" Mike joked back and she rolled her eyes. "It's a Pink Squirrel, and you'd be surprised how quickly these can get you tipsy." He smirked right back, "Just as long as I don't have to drag you home." He then made a motion for the bartender who crossed over to serve him. Mike wasn't a big drinker, starting with something light and planning for nothing else.

"I really needed this, so thanks for coming along," Natalie honestly admitted to her partner. "My older brother is falling on hard times now. He was planning on changing apartments, but now he's clinging to the one he he's living in. If it gets any worse he'll be stuck bunking down with me." Mike was sympathetic, "I don't envy you." The blonde scoffed, "Gee, thanks." Mike chuckled a little bit and had his drink refilled. The conversation eventually branched from her family to her job.

"But I don't know. The security job I do with you pays well enough, but the one I do over at the mall just pays nothing. I'd get paid better to be a janitor… Speaking of which, I send my application in tomorrow." Mike's tongue slipped more than he intended, "Freddy's didn't pay well. I told you about Freddy's, right? Freddy's didn't pay well and yet, somehow, I was still actually risking my life." This conversation changed by time Mike had his third drink. By now he was starting to feel it. Mike wouldn't consider himself a lightweight, but he would admit that he didn't drink much at all.

After a couple more hours of this he was feeling a definite buzz. Not drunk yet, thankfully, as he was sober enough to realize that he needed to stop. "I think I need to pull back a little," he admitted and stared across the bar at the clock on the wall. He pretended that it wasn't budding intoxication that was obscuring his vision. "…Are those hands pointing anywhere near the upwards position, because if they are I'm going to need to take off." Natalie raised a brow and looked back, "It's only eleven. I didn't think you had a curfew." The man stood off of the bar stool, "I do. I got to get home and wind something."

He stumbled over the bar at the foot of the barstool. It certainly made him look drunker, but he straightened himself quickly, "Before I get too messed up." The woman stopped him with a hand on his arm, "Whoa, wait. You can't drive yourself. I'm taking you home." She paid for her own drink. "Geez, Mike, pace yourself much?" Mike wasn't feeling embarrassed. In fact, he wasn't feeling much of anything. "It's been a while… A long, long while." He was able to walk himself out of the bar and made sure his car was locked, but then he collapsed in Natalie's passenger seat.

He was somehow able to mumble out the directions, though halfway there he got confused and sent them down the wrong road. Eventually they got to the house and Mike staggered out of the car. "Do you need me to walk you inside?" Suddenly soberness hit the man out of nowhere and he found himself practically yelled, "No!" He then got himself somewhat under control. "No, no, just- I got it under control. Have a good night and I'll see you back at work." Natalie raised a brow as Mike made his way to the house in a stiff fashion, his light drunkenness triggering immediate paranoia.

It wasn't until Mike got inside the house and shut the door that he felt safe. He released an exhale of relief and awkwardly stumbled to the dining room table, dropping off his keys and phone. By time he turned back the Marionette had appeared. "Oh, hey!" he greeted with a smile. "Hey, I'm back, right on time!... Whatever time it is. Hold on." He glanced around the kitchen for a clock, briefly forgetting that there wasn't a clock in the kitchen, and then shrugged it off. "Ah, it doesn't matter. How've you been?" The Puppet was completely dumbfounded at Mike's behavior.

"So before we get into anything, I'm just a little drunk," Mike explained, accentuating the 'little' just a little bit. "So I'm thinking that I'm just going to sleep this off, so you go get your box and I'm going to just go into the back to sleep this off." The Puppet slowly hovered back out of the room, watching Mike with a sort of uncertainty in his eyes alone. He headed into his bedroom, hearing Mike pass the door, and put away the mended plush toys into the bottom of his box. He then slid the sewing kit under the bed and grabbed the music box and headed down to the Master Bedroom.

Only to find that in the few minutes he had been gone, Mike had laid down on the bed and nodded off. He didn't seem completely unconscious, he knew he could probably rouse the human, but he didn't. Instead he inwardly sighed and dropped the music box onto the bedside table. He then folded the other half of the comforter over him, as Mike was laying on half of it. Then, finally, he decided to just sit at the foot of the bed; legs folded, hand holding head, and just watching Mike as he drifted into a deeper and deeper sleep.

As far as Marionette was concerned, Mike was a handful. He certainly got things done, took care of the house, and was a good socializer, but he managed to somehow continue to surprise the Puppet with one weird twist after another. That wasn't to say that it wasn't worth it. Regardless of how troublesome Mike was, Marionette had become rather fond of him rather quickly. He wasn't like his father had been at all. He hadn't actually ever met someone like Mike was, the closest thing was sort of like Bonnie on the Fredbear cartoon, the first season one of course.

Even now as he watched him, Mike fascinated him. He didn't mind just staring at him and wondering, and feeling like he wasn't alone. Those weeks after his father had left had been difficult as he had been alone without any warning. Of course, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but he stayed awake many nights anxiously waiting for him to come home… But he never did. That last day he had been afraid to let him leave the house as ill as he was, but was also wrapped in his usual excitement to have the house to himself for a while. The days that followed weren't as thrilling.

He felt a soft sensation on his porcelain face and gently dabbed it, pulling back his hand to look. As expected he had begun to cry again, which was odd since he didn't feel much of anything, barely any outpouring of emotions compared to before. The tears just managed to return once again. It made him feel like a child. For years he hadn't even known he could break down as horribly as he had on his last night in the Pizzeria. Just thinking of that alone sent chills through his body; Marionette still clearly remembered the moment when they were a working unit to when he was left behind.

And now his father was gone too, but there was still Mike. He had known something was wrong when Mike suddenly appeared, but it never crossed his mind that had he would never see his father again. It was in one moment, one horrible moment when the voice through the door said he was gone, and he knew there was nothing he could do. It was one thing if his father was in the hospital alive, if he was in the Pizzeria alive, if he could do something, but he couldn't. Marionette had felt this helpless to save someone before, but back then he had a mission to complete, and now he didn't.

He didn't want to think about it. He let the tears stop on their own; he was growing weary of crying so much. There was something different in the house now, something different in his life, and that was Mike. Mike was the thing that stood between Marionette and a lifetime of hiding in the warehouse. Mike was his only friend, the closest thing he had to a caretaker, and the only human adult that he knew other than his father that was trustworthy. To think that he had been a security guard. As bad as it seemed it wasn't the worst it had ever been, because he had Mike.

It was a blessing to wake in the morning and not know that there was someone nearby doing extensive pain and getting away with it. It was a blessing to have a human willing to protect and keep him hidden, even if he did have an unhealthy obsession with that Sam guy. Not even his father had heard him speak, he was too afraid to break his father's illusion of him having his past voice, and at the time it had slipped out so easily. Years of silence in a single slip, but it had felt so good, and it felt so great to be able to say something and be treated like a thinking, sentient being.

Because Marionette didn't look like a person, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel like one. That still didn't mean the Puppet wanted to talk to just anybody, but he did like being able to converse with Mike. Even if Mike clearly kept aiming the conversation towards the Pizzeria on purpose. He was going to have to try a little harder than that. As much as he liked and trusted Mike, he wasn't prepared to let that information just leak out under any circumstances. Some things just needed to be put to rest. Literally.

And for the most part Marionette had been satisfied. While he did his mission at Freddy's he didn't necessarily begrudge it, believing that the second chance was a lucky break, but that was before people starting dying around him so quickly. Everything was simply so much more confusing now. He checked his face again; the tears had already dried. Slowly he moved upwards to the opposite side of the bed, the side that was now barren of the comforter, and laid down on the white sheet. He made sure that he was at least an arm's length away from Mike.

Many, many years ago he could remember coming into this same bed and climbing in. Usually when he was scared. His father usually was none-the-wiser and most of the time he would wake first and hurry out. Maybe he wasn't that person anymore and maybe he wasn't scared, but he needed this just as much. He just laid there on the bed and waited for dawn to eventually come.

Because he would rather stay awake then sleep alone in that box. Not tonight.

When Mike awoke he knew that something was terribly wrong. He sat upwards in bed and stared across the master bedroom to the ajar door that led into the hallway. He was alone in the room, but something felt like it was wrong, like the entire house was different somehow. He got out of bed and headed into the hallway. "Hello?" Mike felt the need to speak, to hear something in response, but the house was an empty voice. All the lights were off except for the TV in the living room and he headed down the hall to it. The screen was alive with static.

"Huh…" Mike grabbed the remote and turned the television off. Then he looked into the kitchen; nothing out of the ordinary. He was eventually drawn back down the hall and to the Puppet's bedroom, opening the door. "Marionette?" There was a light on in the bedroom, a lamp on the bedside table that looked like the one from his own apartment, but the rest of the room was dim. Something drew him over to the box. "Mari?" he tapped on the outside and the flaps popped open, but revealed only a darkness inside. The man leaned in and squinted into the darkness, but could see nothing.

"I need my light," he knew he left it on the dining room table. He turned to leave the room, headed down through living room, and entered into the kitchen. He grabbed the flashlight when a cold feeling suddenly pierced his chest. Gray eyes dragged their way from the table and out the window which suddenly had the blinds raised. Down by his car stood a hulking figure that he could barely see beyond its glowing eyes. Mike eyed in in confusion, "Is that…?" Before the name could slip his lips the figure lunged at the front door and slammed into it.

Panic filled Mike and he dashed towards the hallway. Two steps into the hallway and suddenly the front door was broken down, slamming onto the carpeted floor. Mike looked back to see the mechanical monstrosity step inside. Its fabric exterior was hanging off of his metal skeleton, eyes wide with a bright white light, and mouth overfilled with sharp teeth. "Foxy…?" the former security guard hoarsely choked out. The animatronic answered with a shriek and thundered across the carpet. Foxy was always the fastest and Mike felt it now as he ran to the Puppet's bedroom.

He slammed the door and grabbed the bedside table, knocking over the lamp onto the floor. The table was shoved in front of the door, but Mike knew that it wouldn't hold long. The only thing keeping Foxy out was the likely chance that it wouldn't be able to grip the doorknob. He only had a few seconds before this door was on the floor too. He made a dash for the box and looked in, flicking on his flashlight to see. The box's darkness swallowed the light and revealed none of its secrets, leaving Mike with no answers at all. "What is this?!" His answer was a swift bang on the door.

The urge to climb into the box suddenly overtook him. Mike assumed that maybe it would, at least, hide him for a few minutes, and he stepped inside. His foot hit nothing and being that he was off-balance he plummeted into the darkness. He gave a yell and promptly slammed into the bottom of the box about ten feet down. The floor was cold and metal beneath him. In a haste he jammed his hands outwards and started to feel the surrounding area. To his right and left were cold walls, but there was empty space behind and in front of him. No plush toys, no Puppet, just darkness.

There was a bang from above from Foxy finally getting into the bedroom. While it went quiet right afterwards, Mike knew he had to keep going and started to crawl ahead. Soon the opening above was also replaced with a cold, low roof. Other than his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, Mike could hear nothing, and that actually scared him more than the foreboding noises Foxy should've been making. "What the hell is this?! Why does the Puppet have a tunnel that goes under the house?!... Actually, this is going to make a lot of sense if it pops up outside."

Then his hand brushed something, a flashlight. He knew that it was his own flashlight that somehow appeared down here. He grabbed it and flickered it on, revealing that he was in some sort of a vent. The second that the light began to flicker across the vent there came a scraping noise from behind him. Mike snapped his head back and shined the flashlight down the vent. Only a good ten feet away was Foxy, hunched down in the vent, trying to squeeze through the vent after him. Its mouth of sharp teeth stood out more than anything else.

Mike swore as he turned back and clambered down the vent. Foxy was at his ankles, only slowed by his bulk in the tight space. It didn't take long until Mike was faced with a grate and he partially turned himself to kick it out. It gave easily and Mike slid out the rest of the way into the room. It took less than a second for him to recognize the location. "I'm in the Pizzeria? Wait, no, that can't be possible." A growl from Foxy alerted him to keep moving and he took off down the hall, past the restrooms and into the main dining hall. The stage was empty of animatronics.

"It's just not possible. I went, what, thirty yards at max? Unless there's a warp portal underneath Fredrick's house, this shouldn't be happening." He dropped and slid under a table, pausing to catch his breath. "Unless I'm dreaming." That thought lingered longer than Mike would've liked. "Wait, am I dreaming?... No, because I wouldn't be thinking, I wouldn't be this awake." There was a shuffling noise as he heard Foxy leaving the vent. He could only hope he was hidden under the table, because he knew if he entered the office he would be a sitting duck, and Foxy would know he was there.

He decided to quickly do the pinch test. He reached down and pinch his opposite arm to see if he would wake. He didn't rouse like one would expect, but, to his horror, he didn't feel the pinch. He pinched harder and harder, but felt no painful sensation. In fact, he soon realized that he couldn't feel anything he did to himself. Rubbing his arm brought nothing, pulling his hair was nothing, and as he thought about it harder he realized that his fall into the box was remarkably painless. "So… Am I asleep or not?" He couldn't remember anything prior to waking at the moment.

Then Foxy started by the tables and Mike was dragged out of his thoughts. Possible dream or not, he was in immediate danger. As the heavy footsteps passed, Mike held his breath and waited, watching as the animatronic stepped past the curtains into Pirate's Cove. He didn't trust this as him being in the clear and instead continued to stare out from under the tables. The others had to be by, or something else was lurking, but Foxy wouldn't have just left and it wouldn't have just suddenly been safe. Mike didn't dare to turn on the flashlight or even move.

That was, until a hook came slamming down through the table, right in front of Mike's face. It was accompanied by a shriek and Mike crawled out as Foxy, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, used his lodged hook to flip the table. Mike responded by grabbing a chair and throwing it right at the animatronic before bolting towards the office. He felt panic like never before as he approached one of the doors, suddenly finding himself atop a pool of fresh blood that was pouring out of the office. His foot hit the puddle and he promptly slammed into the tile, feeling nothing.

The blood was pouring out of the office from a limp animatronic sitting against the other door, which was closed. Mike stared into the empty eyes of Golden Freddy which stared back like the plush toy in its image. Blood soaked through its mouth and pooled around its legs. Before Mike could even think, Foxy was dashing down the hall, and he looked at the animatronic just in time to see it leap at him. "Foxy, wait!" It was a desperate beg for salvation, but Foxy couldn't be stopped, and-

Mike was in a parking lot. It was so sudden and jarring, leaving him feeling fuzzy and numb at the same time. Foxy was gone, the Pizzeria was gone, he was just standing in a parking lot. He quickly noticed that something was obscuring his vision, even if he couldn't feel it, and reached to his face. There was some sort of mask clinging to it and, upon feeling it, he guessed it was Foxy's image. "Am I Foxy?" he briefly asked, but then noticed the human hand. "No, wait, I'm fine…" He stared more intently at his hand. "…Except that's not my hand."

"I don't know. What if we get caught? We'll go to jail, right?" A voice broke the silence and Mike turned around to see three others standing with him. They were maybe in their teens, Mike couldn't tell, but they looked to be on the younger side of the spectrum. Each wore a mask as well; one of Bonnie, one of Chica, and one of Freddy. "We won't go to jail, we'll go to juvie," the Bonnie masked one explained directly to the Chica masked one. "That's only if we get caught, and who's going to care? Is anybody going to be upset after what happened? They'll get it."

Yet the Chica masked one still seemed concerned, "And how are we supposed to do it? This isn't like breaking a window. We're up against a giant robot." The Bonnie one was becoming more frustrated, "Look, if you want to go home then go home. That thing did this and that thing is going to be what takes the fall!""Yeah, you say that now, but what happens if someone starts coming after us for what we did?!" the Chica one demanded, "What are we supposed to do then?!" The Bonnie one argued back, "Hey, we were just playing around! That thing- It wasn't supposed to be able to move at all!"

It was now when the Freddy masked one stepped in. "Knock it off! Both of you! Someone's going to hear us and call the cops!" He then made sure they were quiet before looking towards Mike. "It's your decision. It was your brother after all." There was a slight had no idea what was happening and couldn't even fathom an answer. He was trying to collect the patterns and understand, but his mind was slow. It took until that moment for him to actually recognize beyond the masks. "These are those kids that went missing. I'm… I'm Fredrick's kid, aren't I?"

"Yeah. Let's do it." The voice came from himself but was not his own voice. It was a younger male, another teen, and it was firm with what it wanted to do. The teen moved forward towards the door by his own decision. Mike had little control over what the Foxy masked one did. He could move his arms slightly, he could move the eyes and the head just a bit, but the teen went through his own motions on his own. He approached the door to the closed Pizzeria and reached into his pocket, bringing out a ring of keys. "The Pizzeria… Looks more put together. Guess this really was a while back."

He could only dread as they stepped into the empty Pizzeria. It smelled less dusty and moldy with a soft hint of pizza. The decorations were all put together, the tables were neat, but the sign of police tape blocking off the main dining hall made Mike cringe. The Foxy masked one crossed to the tape and stared into the dining hall. His eyes focused on a spot on the floor where Mike could see nothing. Though the whole room reeked of a heavy metallic odor that he knew was the scent of blood, covered with what smelled like heavy cleaners.

The teen began to breathe a little quicker and his pulse raced. Mike tried to fight past this and look in at the scene. "There's nothing here. What's he looking at?" Then a panicked thought passed by, "Oh no, what happened here?... The bite." Right as he thought this, the Bonnie mask passed underneath the tape. "I'll lead the way…" The Freddy mask whispered after him, "Be careful. We don't need any more accidents. Let's just get to the stage." They started across the dining hall and Mike lingered.

"Are you coming?" the Chica one asked. "This… You don't have to do this." Now the Freddy one chimed in, "Just wait outside and keep watch. We've got this." The Foxy one shook his head, even though Mike himself wanted to leave. Part of him wanted to think that if he could coax the teen outside it could stop whatever was coming. He knew, whatever it was, it was coming fast. "Hey, it's gone!" the Bonnie one called back and the Freddy one huffed. "They probably moved it. Well, that's great! Mission failed!" He looked around, "There's a storage room, right?"

A light suddenly shined down on the four of them. "Hey, what are you kids doing here?" The voice was weirdly distorted; not in a creepy way, but in a way that it didn't sound like a real voice. Though when they looked back and he expected a monster, he instead saw another security guard. The same uniform, the same badge, the same everything. The man got a concerned look, "Oh… Hey guys." Apparently he knew them. "You know you guys can't be in here right now…" The Foxy masked one was the one to speak, "Where did they take it?"

"Oh, uh… I really don't know. It might be in the back," the security guard glanced back down the hallway. "I haven't been here to see the damage." He then got a sympathetic look, "I heard about your brother. I'm so sorry. I thought- It doesn't matter." He shook his head solemnly. "That- That thing should be gotten rid of!" the Bonnie masked kid suddenly voiced. The Chica one nodded too, "Yeah! It's not fair…" Both the Freddy masked kid and Foxy masked one stayed silent, though the Foxy one stared at the Security Guard as he did so.

"I can't let you do that. First of all, your father would kill me, and the police would think I was destroying evidence. I'll walk you to the door, come on," he started to lead them into the front. The teens reluctantly followed him. "This sucks, I was hoping we were actually going to do something for once," the Freddy masked one complained. "It's not like this place is opening anytime soon…" Mike was just glad that they were leaving, but at the door the security guard paused, then sighed.

"I'm not too happy about this either… Alright, we'll do this. I'll take you back to where they're keeping him. I'll tell the boss tomorrow that someone broke in and vandalized. Just don't break anything else." Mike had a bad feeling that something was terribly wrong. That alone feeling had returned, like all of these people weren't actually here and he was just standing in a dark Pizzeria alone. In fact, he knew that this was the case by now, he knew that he was actually entirely alone. The security guard passed by and guided them through the Pizzeria.

Mike wasn't sure where they were going. It looked like they were heading to a storage room, but he knew that there wasn't a storage room in the direction they were going. Suddenly they were at a door, which the security guard unlocked. "He's being kept right in here," he explained as he opened the door. Then he slowly turned around and faced the Foxy masked one, and Mike, resting his hand on the doorframe. "Just hurry, okay?" The other three entered inside the doorway without a single word and soon the Foxy masked one started to enter as well.

Mike tried to fight back, "Hey, stop!" The boy didn't hear him or didn't listen. The storage room was pitch black and as cold as ice. It was only in the room that Mike suddenly realized he had control again. He could move, he could react, and he turned around to rush out. This time it was Mike's own self that stopped him as he saw what waited in the door. The security guard waited in the doorway, blocking off the path to freedom. His face had morphed into something disgusting; empty eyes and an obscenely stretched smile.

The once friendly Security Guard stepped into the storage room, the door slowly closing behind him, and the room went dark...

And Mike woke up.

Mable: So to clarify, Mike was dreaming, so none of that really happened… Right?... The next chapter will be posted when it's finished. I know it's sort of a cliffhanger, and I hate doing that a second time, but I was almost at 6,000 words and I knew I had to draw the chapter to an end. To make up for it, I will try to get the next chapter posted sooner than later. I hope you enjoyed!