You know that time of night where it's so late, it's early? The tipping point between a late night and a very miserable, early, oncoming day? When the darkness has been around for so long that it feels surreal and immovable?
It always wound up being the time that Ted got the most work done. And, surely by coincidence, where her sloppiest work popped up.
She could already tell the summer was going to be a ruthless one; it was mid June, and even in the dead of night, the cool air couldn't fight back the lingering heat from the daytime. The garage door was cracked open at the bottom, making the workspace less suffocating, but Ted still ran her desk fan at full blast.
The cigarette on her lip had fizzled out fifteen minutes ago, forgotten, until it was added to the ashtray with others like it, creating a small gray nest of them at the edge of the work table.
Ted fit the rough, black plastic case around a rectangular hunk of circuit boards and wires, sliding latches into slots and sealing it with a satisfying click. She rolled it over in her palm, testing the weight.
It resembled a taser, with a large black button where the thumb would sit and a set of metal prongs on one end. Ted held down the button, and the metal prongs extended, clamping down on one another. Unlike a taser, there was no visible flow of electricity or a blast of the crackling sound that would normally accompany it.
Deceptively safe.
She pushed back from the work table, the squeak of the rolling chair only a little louder than her grunt of pain as she stood upright. Her head swam, forcing her to steady herself with a hand against the ugly old chair.
Pull it together. Just test it and you're done, tonight.
Ted rubbed her eyes, hard, and let the ache ground her in the lousy present. She teetered back onto her feet, and turned her disdain to the sturdy metal chair in the center of the garage.
And the stiff, bare endoskeleton that occupied it.
The thing was, graciously speaking, a hideous hodgepodge of springs, bolts, and secondhand wires. Its right arm didn't match the rest of it, and really, that was the most charming thing about it, other than its name. Which was "Pin Cushion." Or "PC," when Ted was feeling particularly affectionate. Which was not tonight.
Pin Cushion was hooked up to Ted's work computer via a litany of wires. The endoskeleton was powered on, but only running a basic operating system, the code of which filled the computer screen at a leisurely pace.
Ted took a moment to look over the sorry endoskeleton, satisfied to discover that she still felt no pity for it. She kept an eye on the computer, watching the flow of code, and clamped the taser-like device onto a beam in Pin Cushion's neck.
At first, nothing happened. Pin Cushion sat, motionless, its eyes focused on Ted.
Then, a little twitch. Its gaze shifted, then returned to her.
And then, a much bigger twitch— its head jerked to one side, then righted itself. On the computer screen, the code had noticeably sped up. Ted removed the taser-like device and took a step back to watch.
A tremor had begun throughout Pin Cushion's entire body, starting in its limbs and spreading rapidly through the rest of it. It kept trying to maintain its posture, but after a few violent spasms, seemed to lose the capacity to do so.
On the computer, a deluge of code flooded the screen: clusters of bulky nonsense, commands that looped back in on themselves and grew, swelling, multiplying like a digital cancer. Anything that continued to function became suffocated by the infectious junk-code, unable to surface.
Pin Cushion jerked forward, its joints screeching at the force behind it, and it tried to take a knee as it half-spilled from the chair. The leg failed, and the endoskeleton collapsed to the concrete floor. It raised an arm to push itself upright, but only succeeded in extending it in front of itself, reaching for aid that wasn't there.
After a few more tepid twitches, Pin Cushion's eyes unfocused, and it lay still.
Ted checked the computer. The code slowed, no more than a trickle, before it too stopped.
She made a low sound of thought, absently pocketing the taser-like device.
Not too bad.
Of course, her mind had already begun to pelt her with critiques, even before the endoskeleton had hit the ground: she wanted the onset to be faster. Once it set in there wasn't anything to worry about, but that was on account of the sheer volume of junk code that was being produced once the commands got things multiplying. She'd feel a whole lot better if things hit fast.
That's gonna take more power to the taser. Which's gonna make it bigger… which I don't want. Gotta be small, to apply it where it needs to go, 'n slip between the jaw and chest casings… 's gotta be on that neck beam, too. To get right there, up against the brain. Mm… means it needs a different kinda malware, then. Might have space in there for that… gonna have to go in and make sure it plays nice with the hierarchy and…
Her body ached, reminding Ted of the bargain she'd made with herself.
You tested it. You're done. Do all that other stuff tomorrow.
A laugh bubbled up from deep within her, coming out sharp, humorless, and not at all painless.
Right. Like she'd be doing anything this weekend except sleep and hate herself.
Ted found her way back to the ugly rolling chair, collapsing in a huff. She dug the fullest cigarette out of the ashtray, lit it, and resolved that it would be her last before bed.
Her gaze floated around the garage, hazy from exhaustion and smoke. It lingered on Pin Cushion for a moment, but still, Ted found no pity. Hey, she didn't make it: just added on parts to suit her needs. And she figured there wasn't enough there, in its now deep-fried brain, to feel anything close to pain at the experience.
And if it did? Well. Maybe it earned a little pain. Considering…
… her eyes shifted to the old metal shelves against the garage wall. Rickety and rusted at the bottom, like they had been for years now. The shelves that could be trusted with anything heavier than a toolbox were stuffed with cardboard boxes, covered in yellowed tape or displaying logos that were now more than twenty years out of date. Junk, most of it. Useless, out of date junk that she'd never been able to talk herself into trashing.
On the very top shelf, only just within her reach, was a cardboard box that was newer than the others. Faded white and green, with a snug-fitting lid, and a scribbled label that she couldn't make out in the dark… though she already knew what it said.
Ted stared at the box. Felt a clawing heat in her cheeks that didn't come from the cigarette's tip.
And she told herself, as she always did, that she'd fix him one day. She would.
… she'd fix him. That's what he w…
Ted stubbed out the thought with her cigarette, rose to her feet with more resolve than before.
That was enough for tonight— she'd save the rest for this weekend.
Ted switched off the garage light, and didn't bother to turn on another as she entered the living room. She navigated the house in the dark, having trudged this route many times before: through the paper-strewn living room, down the main hallway, past the door she only unlocked on very bad days, and finally, to the bedroom at the end of the hall.
She walked directly into the connected bathroom, taking off the clothes she'd been working in for the past few days. There wasn't a chance in the world that she'd let the cigarette smell seep into that bedroom. Ted chucked the clothes into a hamper with the remainder of her wardrobe, turned on a heel, and returned to the bedroom.
Somewhere between the door and the bed, Ted had the wayward thought that she should do the bare minimum and put on a bonnet, if she didn't want her hair to suffer the consequences of a night without it. Unfortunately, anything within the range of "self care" was the furthest thing from her mind, tonight especially, so the thought was discarded.
Ted hit the pillow. She didn't even have the time to exhale from the impact before she was out.
TKO.
Buzzing. Regular, repeated buzzing. Right by her head.
It took a few attempts to get ahold of her phone, but Ted eventually succeeded, and silenced the sound without looking at the screen.
Seconds later, the buzzing began again.
Ted picked it up, silenced it, slammed it back on the nightstand.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Guess she was awake now. Ted squinted to make out the screen, vision still swimming from sleep.
Rob was calling.
The simmering frustration was kicked up a few notches, and Ted silenced the call with barely stifled rage. To prevent the need for a replacement, she tossed her phone onto the bed instead of into the far wall, and forced herself to her feet, trudging into the bathroom.
One look in the mirror confirmed what she already knew: she should've grabbed a bonnet.
There were small, frosted windows above the bathroom mirror, and light streamed in full-force. She had no clue what time it was, but that was nothing more than a curiosity at this point, taking second priority to the hammering pain behind her eyes.
Ted hunched over the sink, turning on the faucet and waiting for the water to warm and steam, giving herself a minute to acclimate to being awake.
She cobbled together an agenda for the weekend, loose as it was:
Wash all laundry at once, overflow be damned
Rip out Pin Cushion's now useless brain, spit shine a spare, and shove it back in for a new test
Sleep like a normal person for a change
The steam wasn't doing her much good, so Ted turned off the faucet, facing her options: she could double down and get a shower running, hoping that the extra heat would accomplish what the dinky little sink couldn't, or she could go straight for the ibuprofen.
Both it is.
She got the shower running, returned to the bedroom on her way to the kitchen's medicine cabinet, and instinctively picked up her phone to check the time.
It was 12:03 PM, and Rob was calling her for the fifth time.
Ted silenced the call, opened her messages and began typing up a truly reprehensible text… only to be cut off by call number six.
She answered, whipping the phone up to her ear and speaking immediately.
"Two weeks a year is all I ask for." Her voice was raw, scorching with nastiness and anger, "Two weeks. That's IT."
"I know," Rob cut in, "I know, I know— I'm so sorry—"
"If you were sorry you wouldn't be calling me."
"I know, Ted. I mean it, I am sorry—"
"No you're not."
"Ted, I need your help, it's—"
"You couldn't've called any other m—"
"Bonnie's missing."
"—ing single person to take care of…" His words registered, and Ted paused for just a second, "What."
"He's missing. He's— gone. Just gone."
She recovered her anger, "That sounds like a problem for security to handle. Go bother that new girl you hired."
"Vanessa doesn't know where he is either."
"Then she can't do her job right, like I figured she couldn't. That ain't my problem."
"Ted, please. I'm sorry, really, but I need your h—"
He sounded truly apologetic, but that only succeeded in making Ted hate him more, right now. She hung up, and only had time to exhale before she picked up the next call.
"Please, Ted. I'm sorry." The desperation was overwhelming, "I know— I know this is the worst possible time for you, and this just makes it harder. I know. I wouldn't be— I wouldn't be doing this if I had any other choice. I need your help, please." He coughed, then spoke again, "I don't want to ask more than what you can offer, right now. But this could be really bad, and… I want to put a stop to it, before things get worse. And I need your help for that. Please."
Ted said nothing. Her head throbbed. Her eyes burned. Her body ached. Her heart was hammering in her ears, but she bit it down in order to make out her thoughts, scattered as they were.
Bonnie's gone. They lost a whole animatronic.
But she knew. A little pit had taken root in her stomach, subtle but unmoving.
They don't just walk outta the building. He's there somewhere. Which means he's either broken down in some corner somewhere, or…
… moved outta sight. On purpose.
It really was no use, fighting back. It'd occupy her mind, either way. She'd given up her choice the moment she answered the call.
And that only made her angrier. She spat her answer into the phone, immediately hanging up after she'd spoken:
"Thirty minutes."
It was a blessing that no one encountered Ted in the time it took for her to get from the car and into the Pizzaplex. The asphalt emanated the same heat as the sun above it, creating a blistering trek out of the already dreaded walk.
Her vision was still faulty from the lack of sleep, but shielded from the full brunt of the sunlight by the baseball cap she'd snatched to smother down her hair, and only partially succeeded in. Given she had no clean clothes to pick from and more or less unbothered by that fact, Ted had thrown on the clothes from the night before, well aware she was a walking waft of stale smoke and sweat.
The air conditioner embraced her when she entered the building, providing only a little respite. She sent Rob a text, and got one back in record time: he wanted her in the main security room, where all the camera feeds were sent to. Up a few flights of stairs, nestled deep far from guest access.
A brief hike away. Great.
To her confusion, Ted didn't pass a single guest or employee on the way to Rob— she didn't even think she heard any sign of either. That was off. Summer could be a drag, but it was a Saturday. It was even after most morning day-camps let out, so there was no reason for…
Nope. That was business-Ted talking. She wasn't needed right now— she was pissed to be here, didn't care about anything except finding out where the rabbit had been stuffed away and then going home. Let the whole place go bankrupt and burn, for all she cared. Wouldn't be the first time, and if the past thirty years had been any indication, it wouldn't be the last.
She entered the staff area via a door near the entrance, stalked the long, gray hallways until she found the metal-grated staircase she was looking for, and took it a few flights up. She became suddenly grateful for the absence of employees, winded after a handful of stairs and pausing for a break.
Bad day, she told herself. Age, she shoved into the back of her mind and demanded to stay put. Smoking, she knew and promptly ignored.
The security's room's door was shut, but opened with a card swipe. It was much darker than the hallway, minus the bright monitors mounted on the two longer walls, and Ted squinted in the harsh glare.
Rob sat in front of one of the walls of screens, a hand propping up the lower half of his face and bouncing a leg, making his chair squeak rapidly. He didn't notice Ted until she took the seat beside him, making no attempt to be unobtrusive.
He jumped a bit, but upon recognizing her, Rob broke into a relieved smile— which he had the decency to muffle a moment later.
"Thank you," he breathed, sounding like he could breathe for the first time that day.
Ted's composure didn't soften, "When's the last time someone had eyes on Bonnie."
"Vanessa saw him— in person— when she did her Rockstar Row rounds at 10:45." Rob gestured to one of the monitors above them, pointing out the security footage he'd pulled up, "In his room."
He fast forwarded the footage, "When 12:24 AM hits, he just… leaves."
Ted scrutinized the video closely. Just as Rob said, Bonnie appeared in the Rockstar Row space, heading in the direction of the atrium entrance.
Immediately, something caught her attention.
Bonnie was walking at an even pace, a straight line, going from point A to B with no hesitation or variation. He didn't so much as turn his head to view his surroundings. The whole thing was so… robotic.
That wasn't normal.
"The next time he shows up on cameras, he's in the east arcade, and— it's 2:40 AM now. Over two hours later. He…" Rob muffled a cough, "It seems strange, that in all that time he only went to that one place, and didn't roam or… I mean, maybe if it was the bowling alley I could almost get it, but…"
On the recording, Bonnie lingered near a line of arcade cabinets. Even "linger" seemed too generous a term— he stood, frozen, focused on nothing in particular. Rob fast forwarded the video, minutes turning into hours, and nothing changed.
That pit in Ted's stomach began to stretch, bit by bit.
"Until we get to 4 AM, and—"
Bonnie abruptly began his stoic walk, moving out of frame of the camera.
"— at 4:12 AM, he walks into Monty Golf."
Ted watched as the animatronic vanished inside the entrance to the mini-golf course, swallowed up by the darkness.
"And?"
Rob shook his head, "And that's it."
"What do you mean that's it?" She stared at him, "Don't cameras inside the course pick him up?"
"No."
"Well did'ja go in there and check?"
"I did. Nothing there."
Ted shook her head, "No, that don't make any sense— if he didn't get picked up on cameras inside the golf course, then he couldn'tta gone further than the entrance. There's nothin' to slip into there, or hide behind."
Rob's expression was tired and sympathetic, "I know."
She growled, already past her patience threshold, "Did'ja at least close off the space?"
He shook his head, "Couldn't. Party had it booked for today."
"Well that's no good—"
"I know," Rob cut her off, "I already know."
Ted glared at him, "Yeah you sure seem to know a lotta stuff today, except anything that's actually gonna help us!"
"I kn—" He barely stopped himself in time, "It's all I've got, Ted."
"Well then what'd'ya expect me to do about it?"
"I just— I don't know! You made them! If there's something—" He suffered through a coughing fit, "—something I missed, or a glitch you might know about that would make him do this—"
"He—" Ted stopped, deciding at the last minute to keep the full observation to herself, "The idling's weird. Dunno if he was looking for security or a scheduling error tripped him up or…"
"But for so long? For hours?"
"I know."
She saw the change in his expression and knew exactly what he was about to say.
"Don't you even start with me, or I swear I'm walking out right this second."
The tension was broken by a telephone's ring. Both turned in the direction of the sound, more confused than alarmed, spotting the corded white telephone that was mounted to one of the walls. A red light blinked, as if the ringing didn't do the job on its own.
Rob rose from his chair and approached the phone, answering it with noticeable hesitation.
In the meantime, Ted stood too, to get a better view of the looping security feed. As she did, something clattered to the floor— a hand flew to her pocket, but finding her phone still there, Ted looked to the floor.
Apparently, she'd left the taser-like device in her pocket the night before.
"Oh," she breathed, "Shoot." Ted stooped to pick it up, hoping the movement would go unnoticed by Rob, because she really wasn't in the mood to explain why she'd—
Rob slammed the phone down on its base, making Ted flinch.
"Jesus man, wouldj'a mind not—"
The blood had drained from his face, and he stared at Ted with something close to terror.
Her attitude evaporated in an instant, "What happened?"
"S…" His voice failed him, "Accident."
Ted froze.
"Accident," he echoed, "They said… someone got hurt." Rob was coming back to his senses now, "In Mazercise. There was some kind of accident— with Chica. People are hurt."
Ted couldn't speak. From where he stood, Rob couldn't see the tremor that had begun in her hands.
No. No. Not today. This can't happen again. Not today. Not today.
"—me!"
She snapped back into focus, "What?"
Rob repeated himself tersely, "I need you to come with me!"
The words registered this time, and Ted nodded.
"Yeah. Okay."
Rob was out the door before she could speak again; it was by far the fastest she'd ever seen him move, and she had no intention of trying to match his pace.
Before she left the security room, Ted checked her pockets.
Phone. Keys. Wallet. And taser-device.
… okay. Accident. Injuries. With an animatronic involved.
She could handle this.
Ted followed Rob in a jog.
She could do this.
Crying could be heard from the complete other side of the atrium, which sliced right through Ted's composure— she never could handle crying kids.
She and Rob hurried up an escalator, taking them up to the atrium balcony and eventually, to Mazercise. The crying was clearer, now. Louder. Multiple sources of it.
If they're able to cry that loud, Ted reasoned, Then at least they're not gonna die in the next couple minutes.
A crowd had formed just inside the Mazercise entrance, parents milling about and conversing in low voices, kids hanging onto their arms and catching each other's eyes with worried expressions.
The crying was coming from the center of the hoard of guests. Rob tried to push past, civilly at first. Then he stopped, took in a breath, and shouted for the group to MOVE.
Boy, they sure listened that time. The group parted in two, clearing up a path for Rob and Ted.
Once the kids came into sight, so did the blood. Ted stopped, but Rob sped up.
"Hey—" He knelt down beside the nearest kid, a little girl, "Hey, hey sweetie— it's alright… are you here with someone you know?"
The little girl, through hiccuping sobs, pointed to a nearby woman.
"And who's that?"
"M—mom—"
"That's mom? Okay, good… can you tell me your mom's name?"
"S… she's… Kristen."
"Kristen. Good." Rob beckoned for the woman to join them, continuing to address the child, "And what's your name?"
"Lauren."
"Lauren. Okay." Rob was feeling her neck for breaks, "Lauren, can you tell me what's hurting you?"
Lauren raised a shaking hand to point, "M… my ears…"
"I'm going to turn your head so I can see better, okay Lauren? I'll be careful— if something hurts, tell me and I'll stop. Is that okay? How about we have your mom hold your hand—"
He had it handled better than Ted ever could, so she left him to it, turning to the person nearest to her: a lanky boy with curly black hair.
"Hey, did you see where Chica ran off to?"
The boy acted like he hadn't heard her, not even making eye contact before he turned and slipped into the crowd, lost in an instant.
Okay. Brat.
She moved onto the next person, an adult this time, and presented the same question. They were a tad more helpful, pointing silently to the door at the back of the large room.
The door that led to the maze.
Ted groaned, "Of course."
It took her away from the crowd at least, so Ted ventured inside the bright, stuffy maze of walls, determined to get this over with quickly.
"Chica! Get over here!" She heard her tone, sighed, and added in exasperation, "You're not in trouble. No one's mad. But you need to come here."
From within the maze, Ted could hear the quick, heavy footsteps.
"You wanna tell me what happened?" Ted called out, "All Rob said is that there was an accident—"
A shrill, warbled sound broke the relative quiet of the maze. Ted swore in surprise, but seeing as the footsteps had stopped (or maybe she just couldn't make them out over the new awful sound), she was forced to venture into the maze, herself.
"Chica?" She walked a ways in, stopped at her first crossroads, "Hey, Chica! You gotta come to me! I know you know your way through this place."
The sound grew louder, and Ted's ears began to ache.
God, what IS that?
"Chica!" She could hardly hear herself speak, "If something happened, just come and tell me. I told you, you're not in trouble or nothing, but—"
Pain spiked in both ears, making Ted clap her hands over them.
The bleeding ears suddenly made a lot more sense.
"Chica! Stop crying! Now!"
It silenced just as quickly as it began, but a faint ringing continued to bounce around inside Ted's head, worsening once she removed her hands from her ears.
"Chica—" God, it hurt her head to talk all of a sudden, "Come here. And don't say anything."
After a pause, the footsteps resumed, much slower than before. It wasn't long before the animatronic poked her head around a corner of the crossroads.
Ted beckoned, "Get over here."
Chica slunk around the maze's wall, arms wound around her middle and practically sunken into herself. There wasn't any damage that Ted could see, but she stepped up for a closer look.
"Siddown," she ordered, "Then don't move."
She sunk to her knees, now eye-to-eye with Ted, who scoured the animatronic for signs of damage.
There was nothing— no nicks or scrapes, no cracks in the outer casing. She tested the arm, elbow, and neck joints, the beak. Still, nothing.
"What…" Ted murmured to herself, "Happened to you?"
She caught her mistake too late. Ted was only able to clamp a hand down on the aniamtronic's beak after another piercing shriek.
"I wasn't askin' for an answer!" Her headache had kicked up another notch, "Do not talk! Somethin's obviously broken, and you're gonna burst someone's eardrums if you haven't already!"
Chica covered her mouth, fixing Ted with a hurt expression that she refused to look at.
"C'mon. We'll go to Parts and Services and I'll fix…" She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "I'll at least run diagnostics to see what's goin' on. If it's a quick fix, I'll take care of it today." Ted snapped her fingers, "So let's get goin'."
As soon as the two of them set foot into the main room of Mazercise, all chatter came to a halt, and every eye was pointed in their direction. Ted didn't break her stride, strolling to the entrance and assuming the crowd could part if they knew what was good for them— and, on account of Chica, most everyone gave them generous clearance.
Rob was looking over another hurt kid, barely noticing Ted as she passed.
"Going to Parts and Services," she called out to him.
He nodded, distracted, "Just called medical. They're on the way— I'll let them in, or staff will—"
Ted felt a tug on her arm. Judging by the cold metal grip and the fact that this was far from the first time it had happened, she didn't need to turn to see who it was.
"You're fine," she said lowly, "Just hold on a second."
"If I get a chance, I'll send Harv down to help you," Rob continued, "Okay?"
"Yeah."
The guests' eyes followed them all the way out of Mazercise, and Chica's grip on her arm didn't loosen for a second. Ted was again grateful for the day's low attendance, as the trek to the stage went uninterrupted.
She got Chica positioned on the stage lift's platform, then hit the button to start the long, dark ride down to Parts and Services.
Ted took the opportunity to slump over, hoping it would do something to ease the pain in her head. Unsurprisingly, it did not. But it didn't make things worse either, so Ted maintained the stance.
And then Chica was gently patting her on the back. Ted hacked up a laugh, caught off guard.
"Dunno where you learned that from, cause it sure wasn't me."
They reached the bottom floor, faced with the eerie, pipe-laden hallway into Parts and Services. The cold swathed Ted's bare arms and chilled the sweat that had collected on her forehead, but it was an improvement from where she was at, currently.
She beckoned, and was relieved when Chica followed her without hesitation. The two passed empty testing rooms, closets overflowing with bits and bobs that would only interest mechanics, and still, not a single employee.
Ted found that the computer connected to the repair cylinder had been shut down— which, given its age, meant a boot-up time of several minutes. But by this point, it was one of the smallest inconveniences that had come her way, so Ted didn't mind.
"Chica," she called over, "C'mere. Stand around… here."
The animatronic did as she was told, eying Ted curiously as she waited in front of the repair cylinder.
"Lemme— bend over, I gotta reach your beak."
Again she was obeyed, and Ted pried Chica's beak open with little resistance, scoping out the inner cavity for any sign of damage.
"… hmph." She reached inside with a hand, "Don't close it. Don't need you takin' a bite outta me."
Ted unplugged a few obscured wires, held down a latch, and promptly yanked the beak clean off Chica's face. It pulled free with a click, revealing the bare metal jaw hinges underneath. The animatronic looked noticeably less friendly now, what with the gaping black hole in the center of her face, but Ted had seen far worse before.
She set the beak down on the table beside the computer, which had finally decided to boot up in full, and navigated her way to the diagnostics software.
Over the whir of the computer, she thought she heard a scuff, but ignored it.
Then, a yelp. Ted whipped around to face the sound.
Around the corner of the room she was able to identify Harv, and behind him, Roxanne. The shadows must've been playing tricks on her, because from this distance, Roxanne looked… odd.
Ted squinted, "Why is—"
Before she could finish the question, it became clear that what she was seeing wasn't a trick of the light— the aniamtronic's muzzle had been crushed, caved in, and she could only see the gleam of one eye.
All the frustration that had been simmering down in the past few minutes came rushing back, and Ted spat out a line of swears.
Harv was staring with a gaping mouth at Chica, almost matching her appearance, "What happened to her?!"
"Some s—"
Her reply was cut off by the hideous shriek she thought she was done with, and Ted whirled on Chica immediately.
"SHUT UP!"
Chica clapped her hands over the gap where her mouth used to be, looking embarrassed.
"I told you to stay quiet!" Ted snapped, knowing it was probably an accident but infuriated nonetheless. She turned to Harv, "Get Roxanne over here."
Before the two had made it over, Chica rushed to Roxanne's side. To Ted's surprise, the animatronic reached out with both hands, placing them on either side of Roxanne's mangled face. She caught a tepid attempt from Roxanne to avoid her, but Chica was undeterred.
Good, they could keep each other in check. Ted wasn't about to waste the advantage.
"Stay there," she simply told the two, returning her attention to the computer. The diagnostics software asked for her credentials, so Ted typed in her password— incorrectly, the first time— and waited another few seconds for it to let her in.
She hazarded another glance at Roxanne, now in better lighting, and saw even more of the damage she'd suffered; left eye was definitely crushed, unsalvageable. Muzzle was the same. Face plate would need to be replaced, too. One of her hands had cracked in a few places— needed to be replaced. Some of the scuffs up her arm were too deep to buff out, of course of course of course—
It took her a second to remember that Harv was there, so she spoke in his general direction.
"Roxanne's not getting fixed anytime today. We're startin' on Chica."
Harv nodded, "Yes ma'am."
The diagnostics software finally decided it would work for her, so Ted got to work.
"Somethin' malfunctioned in the sound system, with her. Dunno if it's physical or some software screw up. Break synthesizer'll be able to show if it received bad code or caused it and sent it back. If not, gonna need a full scan." The reality of the work ahead of her fully set in, and Ted snarled, "An' I'm betting we're gonna need a full scan."
She reached blindly for the beak she'd set down, knowing it was somewhere nearby. The next thing she knew, Harv was holding it out to her. Ted mumbled a thanks that she wasn't sure made it into words (but a second attempt was not high on her list of priorities), then proceeded to yank a wire out of the beak, plugging it into a slot on the old computer.
Green code filled the screen, Ted only able to catch snippets of information with how glazed over her eyes had become.
The simple device made its scan time fairly quick: the computer spat out its findings, and of course, it was exactly as she'd feared.
"It's not the beak," she growled, yanking the piece free from the computer, "Course it's not. Came from inside."
"What'cha need me to do?" Harv offered.
To leave me alone and let me work.
She didn't voice the thought, just able to convince herself that he hadn't done anything to earn it.
"Chica," she said instead, "In the cylinder. Gotta do a scan."
The animatronic flinched at the sound of her name, shrinking into herself and moving closer to Roxanne.
Ted's patience halved, and she started towards the animatronic, "Chica, I'm not doin' this today—"
Harv took a step forward too, "Roxy's not going nowhere. C'mon, Ms. Sullivan's not gonna hurt you or nothin'."
And it seemed like, at least somewhat, that he'd convinced her. Chica emerged from herself an inch or two, looking between them and the repair cylinder.
Well, that confidence was shattered when one of the room's doors flew open— and in came Rob, somehow looking worse than when Ted had first seen him.
"Y'alright boss?" Harv called over to him, "Things haven't gotten any worse, right?"
"Don't jinx it," Rob coughed, "People are—" His coughing didn't subside, "Mostly out—"
"Catch your breath," Ted told him flatly, "Don't need you dropping, too."
"Medical should be about… five minutes away now, yeah?"
"Something—like that."
"People are out of the raceway," Harv began, "Puttin' 'em in the atrium, if they didn't go far—"
The raceway? That'd explain Roxanne… if Rob's not freakin' out too much about it, then it figures no one got hurt. The hell happened, then? And why's it gotta be all at once?!
"There's a party still in the daycare," Harv was saying when Ted tuned back in, "You want me to—"
"They're outta the way there," Ted cut in, "They got staff?"
"Kylie. And Freddy, if he's sticking around there—"
Well, she could count on him, at least. But that left one problem running around.
"Anyone on Monty?"
"Uh." Harv rubbed the back of his neck, "Last I saw 'em was in the golf course. Left 'em to take the kids to the daycare. Last place I saw Ness too, was there."
"You're right about the daycare party," Rob said, "Let's keep them there for now." He straightened up, stretching his back with a sound that made it clear he was hurting, "We're down two animatronics. Bad luck or not, I don't want that number going up— we need eyes on the other two."
"Monty's probably still in the golf course," Ted assumed, casting a dark look in Rob's direction, "Assuming he doesn't vanish into thin air too, I can get him."
Harv was clearly puzzled, "Uh, hold up—"
Rob interrupted, "Most of the— parents have control over the kids in Mazercise. I'll be able to wait at the entrance for a bit, to get medical where they need to go, but—"
Ted saw Harv go for his radio, and when he spoke, the polite tone had evaporated.
"Hey Ness? Now would be a real great time to answer your—" A smattering of colorful descriptors, "—radio, because we've got a problem here, and it'd be real great if you could do your—" Even more admirable adjectives, "—job for once today."
Ted bit her tongue to keep the smile at bay.
Thatta boy.
Rob was considerably less amused, "Harv. That's enough."
Ted shrugged, "I dunno if it was, actually."
Before she could receive a similar lecture, the radio beeped, and Ted heard a voice she only somewhat recognized.
"What the hell is your problem, Harvey?!"
The speed at which Rob drew his radio was almost impressive.
"Vanessa! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
The smile was too quick to hide this time, so for Rob's sake, Ted returned her attention to the computer. She'd seen the guy frustrated— been the cause of it a couple times— but this was a whole other level, and she was glad that for once, she wasn't the target of it.
She noticed when Harv joined her this time, and Ted figured that while she had an extra set of (somewhat) competent hands, it made sense to use them.
"Might as well have you start on repairs down here," she muttered, "Three of us can handle upstairs. Get Chica scanned, write down the errors it comes up with, wait for me to come back. Got that?"
"Yes ma'am."
Ted navigated out of the diagnostics report for the beak, getting it ready for Harv to use.
"Redsox, huh? You a Boston fan?"
The question didn't quite register, and she gave him a look to say as much, "Hm?"
"The hat."
… oh.
Ted focused on the screen again. Looked at it, anyway. Her focus was somewhere entirely different.
" 's not mine."
"Vanessa's going to make sure the raceway is empty," she barely heard Rob say, "When she's done, she'll let Kylie know what's going on, make sure that party stays put."
"Harv's gonna stay here and start fixing things," Ted replied, trying to shake off the hollow tone she knew had crept in, "That fine?"
"That'll be okay. Keep your radio on."
"Will do," Harv said.
Rob took in a deep breath, then huffed it out, "Alright." He glanced over at Ted, "Ready to head out?"
"Nope." She passed him, headed for the hallway that led to the main lift, "Let's go."
The two of them left the main Parts and Services room; once they were out of earshot of Harv, Ted peered over at Rob.
"Y'okay?"
He coughed, sounding like it pained him.
Ted hazarded a friendly gesture, clapping him on the shoulder as they walked.
"Guess it's a good thing I winded up actually answerin' the phone, huh."
Rob coughed a few more times, clapping a hand on his chest to clear it.
"Yeah." He stopped walking in order to face her in full, "Thank you, Ted."
She shrugged off the earnestness, "I get paid for it. Why not."
"Do you… you don't have a radio on you, do you?"
"Nope."
He held out his own, "I pass a charging stand for them, through Mazercise. I'll nab another one there."
"Thanks."
"Thank you."
"Yeah yeah. Leave me alone already, jeez." She didn't mean it, of course.
Ted avoided eye contact with the crowd outside Roxy Raceway, making a beeline towards the entrance of Monty Golf.
She was so focused on her destination, in fact, that she managed to bump into someone on the way there. Instead of stopping, they ran past her, giggling the whole way.
Ted turned quickly, "Hey—"
All she was able to catch was the curly black hair of the running child.
This brat again— nice.
Even though she knew it wouldn't accomplish much, she yelled after him, "Hey kid, would you mind watching where—"
An alarm rang out through the atrium, not nearly as loud and painful as Chica's broken shrieks, but these were accompanied by flashing lights.
Once Ted had finally put two and two together, the sprinklers turned on.
Past experience had taught her exactly how nasty the water in sprinkler pipes were, and she refused to track that rancid smell into the house; Ted bolted to the covered entrance of Monty Golf, leaving the guests to their freezing, wet misery.
The fire alarm blared, the sprinklers coated every surface in cold, nasty water, and Ted watched from her hiding spot, nursing an ever worsening headache.
Of course. Because why not?! Why wouldn't the fire alarm get set off, too? Today was gettin' too easy all of a sudden— I was startin' to have too much fun!
Ted took the opportunity to sit, placing her head between her knees and wrapping her arms around it, as if anything she could do would block out the world around her.
It always winds up bein' today, doesn't it? All the bad stuff that happens, it always waits til today, when it knows I can't handle anything else.
She was pretty sure she heard a wailing kid run by, didn't so much as look up.
Must be a curse of some sort. It happened that first time, then all the bad stuff gets drawn to it. Like something's celebratin' it. Cause the first time wasn't enough, huh?
Another kid rushed by. Ted propped her chin on her knees, watching idly. A few children had turned the atrium into a splash pad, streaking through the water and shrieking with glee. At least some people were having fun today.
Ted sighed, feeling an old weight settle into her stomach. It was still heavy, after all this time.
First time didn't cut it, for fate, or whatever's causin' all this. Losing one kid just wasn't enough.
The alarm died out before the sprinklers did, but soon enough those too sputtered to a halt. Ted unwillingly rose to her feet, pressed her fingers into a spot at the base of her skull— she'd heard that was supposed to help, but it didn't— and continued into Monty Golf.
For whatever reason, the course's soundtrack had cut back on, once the alarm subsided. But other than it, and the squish of soaked carpet beneath her shoes, Ted heard nothing else.
Not in the mood to traverse the entire mini-golf course, Ted took in a breath, then hollered:
"Hey! Anyone in here?"
And, before the echo of her words had faded, she got a reply.
"Ms. Sullivan?"
She recognized the voice, of course, "Monty, where—"
"Ms. Sullivan…" There was a pause, "… h.. help."
The air went stale in her chest.
Oh… oh that was not a good sign.
"Monty. Where are you?"
"… the bucket… it… I didn't— I didn't mean to, honest—"
Ted ignored her exhaustion, breaking into her first real sprint of the day. She took the shorter route to the back of the room, beneath dark catwalks and past colorful, dopey golf obstacles.
The hurricane bucket, mounted high on the catwalks against the back wall, had been tipped over. Not long after, she had to avoid the rainbow plastic balls that littered the floor.
And on the floor, right beneath the hurricane bucket, surrounded by a sea of plastic balls, was Monty, trying to crawl his way forward.
As soon as he noticed her, Monty's struggling intensified, "Ms. Sullivan, help—"
She was just about to kneel beside him when something else caught her attention, mere feet away. Partially obscured by the litany of plastic balls, Ted could see…
Legs.
Monty's legs.
Detached from the rest of him.
"Oh…" Ted whispered, "… christ."
Monty latched onto one of her arms, pulling harder than she would've liked, "H—help—"
"You're fine," she lied, prying herself free, "You're fine, Monty."
His voice was nearly foreign, shaking with either damage or an animtronic's equivalent to fear, "Ms. Sullivan— I d— didn't mean to— t—"
"Tell me what happened, bud." She grabbed his upper jaw, forcing his head in her direction, "Monty. Hey. Talk to me— what did this to ya?"
Monty grabbed her arm again, squeezing hard. Ted broke free with more force, then backed up to be out of his reach.
"I kn— I saw—" Monty's speech kept cutting out, and he tried to crawl towards her, his claws creating deep, desperate gouges in the wet carpet.
Code's overfilling. Ted hissed a breath, It's gonna brick him if it gets much worse.
"Monty, just hold on—" She debated the best way to power him down and avoid another death grip, "Calm down, man, you're gonna be okay—"
"I know— I wasn't— s'posed to be up there." His words were stilted but clearer, "But— but Bonnie—"
Ted stopped, "What about Bonnie?"
"He— they said— he's missin'— and—" The carpet, effectively shredded like wet tissue, didn't grant him anymore traction, "—no one looked for 'em in here— and— I saw—"
"What? What did you see?"
Monty stopped trying to crawl, shaking where he lay.
"Somethin'— wrong—"
"What? What did you see, Monty?"
"He—" The tremor in his voice became so bad that it distorted the sound, "Near— the middle— saw—"
There was movement out of the corner of Ted's eye, and she practically flinched in its direction.
Vanessa took one look at Monty, then his nearby legs, and then Ted.
"Jeez."
Ted stood immediately, "There's a dolly in the back. Door by the merch stand. Red dolly. Bring it out here."
Vanessa only hesitated for a second before running off. To her credit, she returned a few short minutes later with the dolly in tow.
"Wouldn't a trash cart be better, if you want to get him and his legs—"
"Don't care about the legs. The legs don't have a brain." Ted crouched down to take hold of one of Monty's arms, "Grab the other one."
The women managed to right the animatronic between them, and with considerable effort, carried him over to the dolly.
"Parts and Services," Ted instructed her shortly, trying to hide how out of breath she was, "Just get him down there with the others."
Vanessa pulled a face, "You're not going to help me?"
"Gotta check something here." She fixed her with a scowl, "You can't handle it yourself?"
It earned her a scowl of her own, "Fine."
Ted huffed a breath, satisfied by the sour reaction.
Yeah. I knew the buddy-buddy thing you were pullin' was just an act.
"Ms. Sullivan," Monty stammered, "I—I—"
"You'll be fine," Ted repeated, kneeling down to take another shot as his power button.
"I don't—" He reached for her arm but missed, "I don't wanna be replaced. Please— I won't go up there, never again, I promise ya—"
It stopped her in her tracks. Just this once, Ted let the pity win.
"I'm not gonna—"
"Relax," Vanessa cut in, her tone clipped, "It's not like you'd remember it anyway, if you were—"
"SHUT UP."
Vanessa fumbled her grip on the dolly, but caught it again. She stared at Ted with wide eyes, shocked by the sudden explosion.
Once Ted could think over the blood roaring in her ears, she ripped her attention away from Vanessa, giving it to Monty, instead.
"I'm not gonna replace you," she told him, smoothing out her voice the best she could, "I'm gonna fix ya. Alright? You know me, Monty. I'm not gonna get rid of you, never. Just gonna switch you off for a little while, and when you're up again, you'll be ready to go." Ted let him catch her arm, "Alright? I promise."
She endured the metal grip on her arm despite the pain. Slowly, it loosened, reduced to something shakier and weaker.
"Alright, big guy?"
Monty nodded.
"Thatta boy." Ted reached under the casing of his lower jaw, finding the power button, "I'll see ya later."
The animatronic went limp, head falling forward and the hand on Ted's arm dropping to his side.
She stood, not bothering to address or so much as look at Vanessa again, and followed the path alongside the golf course.
Something wrong… near the middle of the course.
That didn't narrow things down very much, but the lead was more solid than an animatronic vanishing into thin air.
Ted paused once she was out of sight of Vanessa, taking a moment to remove and wring out her hat from the rancid sprinkler water.
… well. Not her hat.
She meshed the thing in her hands for a moment, idly looking it over.
The signature hadn't faded, inside the brim. She really shouldn't have worn it at all— collector's item and whatnot. But she didn't care about the scribblings of a long gone pitcher, for a team she cared equally little about. It all meant nothing to her. It was an old hat.
It was his old hat.
She just wanted a piece of him with her today, alright? Was that a problem? Wasn't she allowed that much?
Ted used it to smother her hair once more, tilting back the brim a little farther to clear up her line of sight. She reached into her pocket for the radio… but thought better of it.
But she did check the other pocket. The taser-like device was right where she'd left it.
Just in case.
Ted kept her pace slow, strolling down the path, looking every which way. For…
… "something wrong."
Dripping joined the droning soundtrack of the course. And the squish of carpet. Every surface was slick or swollen with water, glowing eerily green in the neon. Nearly everything reflected the light, making Ted focus on things that wound up being unimportant.
She walked one hole at a time, peering over the course and its obstacles. Loops, hills, and fake scenery created deep shadows that betrayed no answers.
It occurred to her, a few minutes in, to call out for him. If Bonnie was in here at all, it'd be a whole lot easier to make him meet her halfway.
… but… Ted didn't. Something deep down, around that pit in her stomach which had never really left, made her clam up each time she opened her mouth.
… if he was here, she'd find him. She wasn't so stupid that she'd miss a whole animatronic, unlike the rest of the Pizzaplex staff, apparently.
Past a fake cave in one of the middle holes, Ted arrived at one of the course's centerpieces: the giant gator mouth that trickled water into a pool below. Still just as bright and garish as ever. Ted walked past, moving to—
Something caught the light. Ted stopped to take a closer look.
In the shadows, on one side of the gator mouth, something reflected.
Ted squinted. She could just barely spot the edge of a silhouette, moved closer to…
… she froze.
Her eyes traced the dark shape up… up… up…
… until she was staring at the reflection. The two, small pinpricks of light.
The unmoving, unblinking eyes.
Of Bonnie.
Her voice bubbled up without warning, "Bonnie?"
There was no answer. Ted stared, second guessing herself, but her eyes had adjusted to the low light by now. It was Bonnie, clear as day, standing in the shadow of the gator mouth.
Ted didn't leave her spot, "Bonnie. What're you doing?"
He said nothing. As she'd seen on the security cameras, he was dead still.
Ted's stomach threatened to sink past her knees, so she straightened up, feigning confidence.
"Come here."
Bonnie didn't move.
She sharpened her voice, "Bonnie. Come here. Now."
Again, he didn't move.
Until, without warning, he approached her. His steps were robotic and exact, nothing else moving.
Except his eyes. Unblinking, they were focused on Ted. They swiveled with an unnatural fluidity to remain locked on her the closer he came.
Once he was on the path, Ted lost her nerve.
"Stop."
Bonnie halted. He said nothing. Just stared.
Ted's heart was racing, and her breathing hurried to match. She blinked only a bit less than the animatronic, afraid to let him out of her sight.
… something's broken.
It neither reassured nor convinced her.
Turn him off. Just turn him off.
Ted risked a step forward, watching for his reaction.
Bonnie did nothing.
"Bonnie." A tremble invaded her voice, "Say something."
He was silent.
"Say something. Now."
He watched her.
Turn him off. Right now.
Ted took a few steps closer, about five feet away now. Bonnie's eyes never shifted away from her.
The room was so cold. Her neck was freezing. Her legs shook.
Do it. Go. Don't stop— do it all at once. Move.
Fear punctured her stomach. She didn't think she could walk.
Go! Just GO!
Ted shoved herself into motion, a step at a time. He was three feet away.
She raised an arm, hand moving towards the button under his jaw. Two feet.
One foot. And then just—
The animatronic's jaw snapped open and clamped down on Ted's outstretched arm.
Ted screamed, hit by the pain before the shock, and she blindly lashed out at his face. With her free hand, Ted scrambled for the power button, finding then forcing it down. But it did nothing.
Bonnie's bite clamped tighter, her arm erupting in what felt like fire— Ted yanked, but her skin was caught by the metal pieces inside his mouth. She felt her skin be pierced and tear, causing another wave of pain.
She knew she was shouting something, but it was no conscious choice. Ted saw herself hitting the animatronic again, again, pulling against his bite— more pain, more— a gush of blood from between his teeth, spilling down her arm— she couldn't pull, it wouldn't— Ted tried to reach his eye, to catch— it wouldn't work— it— it hurt— it hurt— she needed to think, to— get— him— off—
Bonnie spoke. It wasn't his voice.
"Hello Teddy."
… Ted… stopped.
No.
No.
No, no, no, no, no—
"Bonnie" spoke again.
"Did you miss me?"
Her arm was released as Bonnie's jaw opened wide. And he lunged for her head.
A dull pain shot through her forehead as she stumbled backwards. Bonnie's jaw whirred loudly, the joint jammed by the brim of her baseball hat, caught open and sparing her a broken skull.
Ted scrambled for her pocket, spasms of pain making her fingers fail, blood slicking her grip on the device's surface—
Bonnie broke free from his robotic stupor, snatching the hat in a fist and ripping it free, throwing it to the ground. He lurched towards Ted, lifting an arm before bringing it down—
Ted jammed the device into the gap of his outer casing, into a metal beam in his neck.
Bonnie stopped, staring at her arm in confusion. His eyes turned to her.
… a little twitch of his head. His gaze shifted, then returned to her.
And then, a much bigger twitch— his head jerked to one side, then righted itself.
Something abruptly changed in Bonnie. It was like puppet strings had been severed. His posture relaxed. He focused on Ted again.
"Ms. Sullivan?" Bonnie's voice was his own again, "How'd… I get here?"
Her hand was shaking too badly to maintain a hold on the device. Ted dropped it, and hit the floor around the same time as it.
Bonnie moved to aid her, "Oi, what's the matter?! You're bleedin', miss! What ha…"
He stopped, feeling his legs begin to shake. Bonnie peered down at them in confusion... and followed the tremor as it rose to his arms.
"Wh…" He tried to still them, but failed, "What's… what's all this about? Why's…" His eyes returned to Ted, "Ms. Sullivan? You… heh, help me out here, would'ja miss? I don't…"
The worsened shake was marked by the sound of metal clattering, joints and casings knocking against one another with growing severity. Bonnie's knees began to weaken.
"Hold on…" He clasped his hands together, hoping to still them on his own, "Hold on, wait—"
A leg gave out, followed by the other. Bonnie collapsed to his knees, only to be forced onto his stomach by the momentum of the fall.
"N—" Bonnie's voice jolted with the impact, and when it came again, distortion had begun to take its hold, "What's happening? Wh— what's—"
He tore his eyes away from Ted long enough to notice his surroundings, and it only sped up his decline.
"Wh— when— did I get— here?" He tried to sit up, "Where— where is everyone? I— can't remember— when—"
A spasm rocked his whole body, and Bonnie uttered a shrill cry.
"It— it hurts—" He searched for Ted, barely finding her again, "Ms. Sullivan— what's happening— to me? It— it hurts—" Bonnie spasmed, crying out again, "It hurts— I can't— there's too much— to—"
His arms weakened, and Bonnie lay flat. Still he persisted, lifting his head off the floor, desperate to keep his eyes on Ted.
"Ms. Su—lli—van—" His voice was equal parts noise as it was speech, "Make— it— stop— please—"
Bonnie, through repeated and worsening spasms, raised an arm, reaching out towards her.
"Help— me— I—m—sc—a—r—ed—"
His head hit the ground, eyes unfocused. With a shudder, his arm clattered to the floor after it.
In the silence, Ted could hear how awful her breathing had become. It caught once, then again.
She felt the tickle of blood as it leaked from the gash on her forehead, spilling over an eyebrow and into her eye.
… it. Was him.
Something was severed inside of her. And the gap it made was flooded, with…
… horror.
"Ms. Sullivan?"
Her eyes flicked in the direction of the speaker, of their own accord.
Freddy watched her with concern. A moment later, she saw his gaze shift to the animatronic that lay past her.
"Bonnie?"
It was him.
Ted's breathing worsened, and she uttered a wet, pathetic, whimpering sound.
It was him.
It couldn't have been— he was gone, they'd— they'd ended this— he was gone— he was— supposed to be gone—
William was supposed to be gone.
Ted curled up on the ground, tightly as she could, feeling blood and tears both as they streaked down her face, seeping past her upper lip and fighting against the sour taste in her mouth.
Everything felt too heavy. Too big. Suffocating.
She squeezed herself smaller, making her chest ache. Her breathing became rhythmic, louder, wet with phlegm, shallow.
Ted began to weep.
No. No. No.
Would you believe me if I told you that we have, as of right now, reached the end of the first third of this story? A very brief snippet, I know. But all joking aside, thank you very much for reading! With us at a somewhat stopping point (cliffhanger, stopping point, same thing), it might be a while before I pop up again. But then again, it's usually a while between chapters anyway, so maybe nothing will be all that different. Rest assured, I do actually have a plan for what's to come, and it hasn't— and likely will not— change since the first chapter was posted. That is to say, you can beg all you'd like for safe outcomes for your favorite character(s), but it will fall on deaf ears. But you can try anyway, if it makes you feel better.
Anyway, thank you once again for reading, have a nice day/evening/night, and I'll see you when I see you. Take care!