~O~

Part Eight

Dean wandered down the corridor, making his way back toward the mall. He wrapped the puppet's arms around his belt to keep his hands free. Then, he saw Mangle still hanging from the ceiling. She looked like she was just...hanging there, her single good eye closed.

When Dean got close enough, Mangle's eye opened and she quickly looked in his direction. Dean quickly held up two hands.

"It's okay!" he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Mangle continued to stare, her good eye squinting at him.

Dean took several cautious steps forward. "I...saw what he did to you. To all of you." he continued, "I'm sorry. I know that isn't really helpful now, but I'm sorry."

Mangle didn't respond. She simply watched him like a tethered, angry dog.

Dean glanced up toward the mess of wires Mangle had been wrapped up in. He looked briefly down at the puppet and considered the boy's words.

"Uhm, do you want out of that?" Dean asked Mangle, gesturing to the wires with one finger. "I-I can help you."

No response, just a cold, angry stare.

"Help?" Dean tried, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded and looked. But right now, he really had no other option.

He looked around for a moment. "If I had a pair of scissors or...wire cutter, maybe?"

Dean entered an office nearby and rooted through a desk, cursing at the lack of useful items before he found a toolbox nearby. After going through it, he found a pair of wire cutters. He grinned triumphantly.

"Awesome!" he said.

He stepped back out and showed Mangle the cutters in his hand. "It's okay." he soothed, raising his other hand to show he meant no harm. "I won't hurt you."

Mangle stared at him before her eye focused on the cutters in his hand.

A flash of memory.

A man was kneeling in front of the girl, smiling behind a Bonnie mask.

"It's okay..." he crooned, with a wicked chuckle, "I won't hurt you."

His knife gleamed menacingly in his hand.

Mangle's cold stare transformed into a frightened one, her eye narrowing to a small pinprick. She suddenly went berserk, screaming and thrashing. Dean narrowly missed a swipe of her huge claws before he looped his arm around her large muzzle.

Mangle's screams were constant, metallic and loud; like a car alarm that had gone off in the middle of the night.

Dean struggled to keep her from biting him. He almost lost his grip on the wire cutters.

"It's okay!" he shouted, over her screams. "I'm not trying to hurt you!"

A hollow, ethereal collection of frantic voices filled his head.

...Don't hurtmeDon'thurtmeDon'thurtme...

Please, stop...

Let me go.

Dean didn't realize he'd been crying; out of frustration, fear, he didn't know. But all he knew was that he had to get Mangle free.

He cut through the wires with his free hand, almost being dislodged by the massive jaws clicking at him.

Once the wires were cut, he quickly released Mangle and tossed the cutters behind him, out of sight. He raised two hands, backed away to give Mangle space, just as the animatronic fell to the floor in a mess of tattered wires and metal.

Mangle twisted a little, calming somewhat. Her body bent and moved like a living puzzle. Dean noticed that she had a secondary head that resembled a metal eel. It also had one eye like she did and tiny sharp teeth. And a little pink bow around her neck.

Her endoskeletal form was rusted with age and one of her hands was a massive white paw that ended in claws.

A put-together and pull apart attraction.

Sick.

"We're okay." Dean assured the machine, "It's all okay."

He waited, hands raised close to his face should Mangle change her mind and attack. He had little room to run around her. The puppet did offer him some form of comfort in an odd way, especially since the boy that inhabited it told him the truth of these creatures.

They're just frail, scared children. Remember. That's all they are... Dean thought, trying to keep himself strong.

Mangle righted herself, shook the wires from her body, leaving only a few still caught in several gaps of her exoskeleton frame.

Then, the machine looked at him.

For a moment, there was only the meeting of stares. A silent understanding.

"I want to help you..." Dean said, "And I need to help my friends. But...I don't know how I can. I don't even know what this...purple guy looks like."

Mangle glanced behind her only briefly before she walked away, her metal feet slapping the ground beneath her rather loudly.

"Hey, wait!" Dean called, following the creature.

Mangle ran on all fours, hurrying toward the pizzaria. She glanced back briefly at Dean, seeing if he was following before making her way toward the place where he had been playing Skee-ball.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

Man in purple...

Dean wasn't sure where that voice had come from, but he watched as Mangle leaned her great head down, retrieving a drawing that had fallen to the floor. She caught it in her teeth and laid it at his feet.

Dean looked down, noticing the drawing depicted an all-purple coloring of a man with several children. He looked down at Mangle, who stared at him almost expectantly.

"Yes, I know. Purple guy. I don't know who he is." he told her.

Mangle walked over and caught his jacket sleeve in her teeth, nearly dragging him toward the office nearby.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dean cried, "Stop! Listen, I need to find my friends, I can't - "

He grunted when Mangle released him and watched as she clawed at a filing cabinet. She seemed anxious to get it open, but there was a lock.

"Wait, is there something in there that could help?" Dean asked.

Mangle looked back at him, giving a long, screeching hiss. Dean winced and covered his ears with two hands.

"Okay!" he cried. "I get it!"

He approached the filing cabinet and tried to pry it open with his fingers, but hissed and removed them, rubbing his jacket a few times to soothe the sore sensation.

"Dammit, it's locked."

Mangle seemed to twist her head a little in a gesture that almost reminded him of sarcasm. Great, an animatronic with a sense of humor.

Dean looked around, patting the counter-top. He found a small, hand-held crowbar and smile his approval.

"Yes!" he said, triumphantly.

He pried the filing cabinet open and found nothing but old folders, documents and photos. He furrowed his brow, finding it awfully odd that these things were still here. Mangle butted her nose into him and he grunted.

"What?" he asked, anxiously, "What do you want me to see?"

Mangle dipped her nose into the folders and retrieved one of them. Dean took it from her and opened it, paging through the photos and documents.

Slowly, his eyes widened in absolute horror.

"Oh my God..." he whispered.

He dropped the folder and quickly sprinted from the office, Mangle rushing to catch up with him.

"Emily!" he shouted.

Lying on the floor was an employee document and a photo of Vincent clipped to it. Only he was younger, had a short, stubble beard and long hair.

O

Mark and Emily hid inside of a supply closet.

"Where's Dean?" Emily whispered frantically.

"I don't know!" Mark hissed.

"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" Emily cried, "You lost him?"

"I didn't see you looking back either!"

Emily groaned in fear, clutching her head. "Jesus Christ, what are we going to do? What if they killed Dean too? Oh my God..."

She was practically hysterical, muttering under her breath. Mark watched her for a few moments before he peered out of the supply closet, peeking through a barely formed crack in the door.

"I don't see them..." he whispered.

"What do we do, Mark?" Emily was almost at tears. "What do we do?"

Mark hesitated, considering her words before he looked down at her. "Okay, remember the stories? About this place? If those things are up and moving around, then my brother has to be in one of them."

Emily stared at him in horrified confusion. "Mark, what are you talking about?"

Mark reached into his coat and removed and old photograph of a boy sitting on a tricycle. Emily stared down at the photo, not realizing that the boy in question was one of the few ghosts who haunted the animatronics.

"His name was Adam Barnes." Mark told her. "If it's true and he is in one of those things - "

"Mark..." Emily groaned, "That's crazy!"

"So what, then? Sit here and wait for them to kill us?" Mark hissed. "I have to try something! WE have to try!"

Emily hesitated. It seemed absolutely insane, but what other options did they have right now? They were outnumbered and clearly cornered like rats.

"Alright." she said.

The pair stepped out of the closet and slowly walked out into the mall. Mark raised the photo and looked around, calling out for the machines.

"Hey!" he yelled. "I'm here! Listen, I know one of you used to be my brother! So come out!" He paused, hesitated for a few moments. "You don't have to do this!"

After several long minutes of silence, Bonnie was the first to emerge from the escalator. Emily and Mark looked up with gasps.

A curious giggle escaped Bonnie's voice box. Soon, Chica joined, then Freddy Fazbear and finally, Foxy.

They circled Mark, like a pack of wolves ready to tear him apart. Freddy giggled maniacally and Bonnie grinned. Chica laughed with delight and Foxy snarled.

Mark struggled to calm himself, raised two hands before holding up the photo at them.

"Adam?" he said, carefully. "Adam Barnes?"

Foxy stopped moving.

Mark looked down at the robotic fox, who seemed to be frozen in place, as if someone had pushed the "shut down" switch on him. Mark cautiously and carefully held out the photo in front of Foxy's eyes.

"Adam, I know you don't know me, but I'm your little brother," he said, smiling sadly, "I came to find you."

Foxy didn't move for the longest time.

When the fox finally did, he was reaching out for the photo. The other animatronics had stopped too and were looking at him.

Foxy tilted his head, staring down at the photo. His jaws clicked. His gears whirred. The only sounds in the mall. They were so loud in the silence.

Mark held his breath. He waited for anything at this point.

Foxy chuffed slightly before he moaned.

The moan grew louder and louder, but sounded less machine and more human. Then, he screamed and the sound was definitely like that of a child. Not a machine.

Mark's eyes widened and he took a step forward. "Adam?"

Foxy recoiled, as if he had been burned. His long claws dug into his jaws and he continued to moan. Emily watched the scene warily.

"M-Mark?" she said.

When Mark tried to reach for Foxy, the animatronic swung his hook, slicing through the palm of his hand.

Mark's scream could have very well raised the dead. He staggered back, gripping his arm as blood poured from the wound in fountains. Emily tried to go to him, but he shook his head, urging her away as he was seized violently by the machines.

"No! No, no!" he cried, "RUN!"

Emily didn't hear him. She was screaming desperately, trying to pull him free. The animatronics seemed less interested in her and more into their screaming, bleeding toy in their clutches.

Mark kicked out, dislodging her from him. She fell to the floor and Mark could only stare at her desperately through the mass of metal and fur.

"RUN!" Mark screamed. "RUN!"

Emily was in tears, struggling to breathe as she could barely manage to her feet. She turned and ran, panting and crying.

Mark smiled weakly, closing his eyes as the animatronics began to tear into his body like wild animals. He screamed until his throat went raw. He only saw them through a red haze of agony. Their wide, glowing optics. Their hideous, deformed grins and the rotted chrome skulls beneath.

It's okay, brother. I'm here now...

O

Dean hurried through the mall with Mangle by his side. He spotted Mike only a few feet away and quickly rushed to his side.

"Mike!" he cried.

Mike grunted, letting out a pained breath through his nose. He opened his eyes slightly, looked at Dean and chuckled.

"I'd like to thank you kids for a great weekend, I really would..." he muttered, coughing a stream of blood from his mouth.

Dean looked around and Springtrap was gone. "Where's Emily? And Mark?"

"Your friends?" Mike asked, groaning once. "Probably getting themselves killed."

He let out a laugh and Dean scowled at him. "Where are they?"

"What the hell are you asking me for? I'm not your goddamn keeper!" Mike hissed.

He let out a stream of coughs and Dean struggled to stop the flow of blood he saw with his coat pressed tight to Mike's abdomen. His eyes widened and he looked at the man worriedly. Now, a change had come over Mike's face. A look of sorrow.

"I didn't want this to happen..." he mumbled. "Not to anyone. Stupid kids, I was trying to save you!"

He noticed Mangle, and the animatronic stared silently down at him.

"All of them..." he finished.

Dean nodded his head. "Mike, I'm sorry." he told him. "But you have to tell me how to help. I'm just...one kid. I can't do it all myself."

Mike sighed softly, closing his eyes with a smile. "Hell, kid; you're the only one who makes sense in that stupid group of yours. That's why the puppet picked you."

Dean looked down at the puppet still attached to his belt.

"Look..." Mike said, clutching his abdomen. "Don't worry about me. I've been ready to go for a while. Besides, no one's going to save me. Not after what I let happen. So go and find your friends. Set those kids free so no one else has to die again."

Dean stared down at him sadly. He looked at Mangle, who seemed to be staring intently down at Mike.

The man sighed and then chuckled as Mangle walked around him and laid down by his side. She rested her head across his chest and Dean smiled.

"Thank you," he told the machine. "Stay with him."

He turned and rushed into the mall, but not before returning for the pipe that Mike had laying nearby.

"Might need this..." he said, to himself.

Mike watched him go and then smiled at Mangle.

"Sorry, kid..." he told the machine, "I couldn't be as much of a help to you."

Mangle let out a rattling sigh and just stayed with Mike as he lived out the last few minutes of life.

But at least he wasn't alone.

O

Note - I ALMOST didn't write the scenes with Mangle because they felt too cute. But fuck it. The scenes with her were specifically put there since my cousin's favorite animatronic is Mangle. So endure. LOL.