FANDOM-131: Thank you for understanding.

This chapter—and some following chapters—have loose references (mostly names) to some of my other stories, but you don't need to read those in order to understand what's happening. It's just a little thing I decided to add for no reason in particular.

Chapter two: Intruder

PRESENT DAY

Paul Mortar steered his car into the driveway and onto the parking lot. Only one other car was present, as expected.

He stepped out and overlooked the terrain. Old, dilapidated buildings loomed before him, casting a shadow over the parking lot. Harsh brick and metal structures. Smashed doors and windows. Yet…quiet. Even the destruction—no doubt caused by careless explorers or hooligans with too much time on their hands—was a thing of the past.

One building in particular stood out. The warehouse seemed to be a lot better preserved, with pristine windows and sturdy doors. Not unexpected, given Fazbear Entertainment's increasing interest in the place.

Paul approached the warehouse's double front doors. Surprisingly, they weren't locked.

Inside, he glanced around the lobby. The interior seemed cleaner and tidier than he expected, rusted lockers, cracked tables and dented cabinets notwithstanding. That might've been intentional; he figured Griffiths wouldn't want anyone suspecting anything.

Taking out his flashlight, he picked a direction and passed through a doorway. He was met with a hallway with more doors, some of which had faded signs on them. Old offices, by the looks of it. There were some small storage rooms here and there, but all he found were some old and damaged decorations.

As he roamed around, the knowledge that the warehouse's sole employee was here too lingered in his head. Paul was technically an intruder, so said employee might just decide to attack him on sight.

He finally decided he'd check the ground floor later and headed towards the stairwell he'd spotted earlier. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the cold interior.

On the next floor, he passed through a door into a large room beyond. This looked more like what he'd hoped for, with pallet racks reaching up to the ceiling.

He then felt something being pressed against his back. "Who are you?" demanded a voice behind him.

Paul froze, then put up his hands. This must be the employee he'd read so much about. "Paul Mortar," he responded. "Private investigator."

"And what are you doing here, Paul Mortar, private investiga—"

Paul spun around and grasped the pipe. He yanked it from the hands of a man who seemed to be somewhere around his sixties. The man flinched and stumbled back, putting up his hands, clearly startled.

Paul lowered his hands and gave a polite smile. "Easy there, sir," he said, producing his ID from his inside pocket. "I'm not here to cause trouble." He pocketed the ID and extended his hand for a handshake. The man paid it no mind, and Paul dropped it. "Are you William Afton?"

Afton seemed to recover a bit, and he scowled. "I know you. You're the one who worked the Snyder case. What are you doing here?"

The Snyder case.

Paul fell silent. He took a moment to breathe, to let the hollowness in his stomach settle.

"I've been hired to investigate Freddy's Restaurant," Paul finally said. "I decided to check this place first, what with how it's been seeing more use lately."

"And what were you hoping to find?"

"Your help. My investigation has to do with the Restaurant's nightguard…"

Afton shrugged. "What, that kid? Don't know him very well."

Paul allowed a smirk to shine through. "No? My sources say you have collaborated with him recently."

"That doesn't mean I know him," Afton said without pause. "We worked together on some things. That's it."

"Yes, yes, I've reviewed the timeline. You started working in this warehouse not too long after he visited it. I assume his visit is what drew the attention of Freddy's higher-ups, and they gave you a job offer shortly after. Am I close?"

Afton just glared at him.

"Why did Freddy's contact you specifically?"

"Don't know, but I've worked for them before."

Unlike the other claims he made, that wasn't a lie. Paul had learned that Afton was a former employee, sometime around the very beginning of Fazbear Entertainment's existence. That only made the company's newly-found interest in him all the more fascinating.

"Why did you accept?" Paul asked.

Afton seemed to be getting more and more annoyed. Not nervous; annoyed. He didn't seem suspicious; more like just another grouchy old man. "Figured I might as well start working for the place again," Afton said. "Bring back memories and all of that."

"You don't strike me as the nostalgic type, Mr. Afton."

That only seemed to aggravate him even more.

"What do you know about the nightguard, Mr. Afton?"

"I just told you."

"What about his predecessors?"

"They're a bunch of nuts."

"Yes, it's interesting how Freddy's always hired nuts for the nightshift until now," Paul dryly said. "Do you know why they ran?"

Afton shook his head, huffing. "How should I know why they ran? I don't even work there."

Paul nodded. "On another note—during Fazbear Entertainment's early days, you helped build four animatronics that were ultimately never used." When Afton didn't respond, Paul turned to the room and started walking at a casual pace, letting his gaze glide over the pallet racks and the items they stored. "I've done some digging. One of their current animatronics is actually one of the four you helped build. The other three were disposed of. I tried to find out where they were, and the few sources I recovered claimed they were destroyed."

"Hm-hm. And?"

"Well… One of those sources said something else."

"Yeah? What source is that?"

Interesting. He seemed more interested in the source's identity than in what it said.

"Oh, some old document," Paul said. He glanced at the old man, then through the pallet racks towards the far wall. It was lined with doors that stood a few meters apart from one another. He nodded to them. "What are those rooms for?"

"Offices and random crap," Afton said curtly.

Mortar gave a slight smile. "I'd like to take a look around this place."

"Not happening. I've got more important things to do than showing Fox Mulder where I work."

A reference to a TV-show character that dedicated his career to uncovering secrets and conspiracies? It wasn't a very solid clue, but if that's how Afton regarded him… "That's alright. I'll take a look around by myself."

"No, you're not."

"I won't break anything," Paul reassured. "I wouldn't want to give Fazbear Entertainment any reason to sue me…"

"Get outta here," Afton snapped. "I'm busy."

Paul stopped and turned to him. This old man seemed really determined to keep him from doing his job.

Good—that meant he was onto something.

"All right," Paul said. He reached into his inside pocket and produced a piece of paper, which he handed to Afton. "Let me know if you have anything for me, or if you see or hear anything interesting. Anything at all, no matter how small."

Afton snatched the note from his hand. "Whatever. Now piss off."

Paul nodded and strode back to the stairwell.

He hid a smirk. This wasn't the last time he visited this place, but Afton didn't need to know that.

Once the detective passed through the door and started his descent, Bill immediately went to the window that looked out over the parking lot outside. Soon enough, he saw Mortar leave the building and head towards his car. Good. Looked like he was leaving.

Then the detective abruptly stopped and turned to look straight at him.

Bill froze.

Mortar gave that same, too-polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he stepped in his car and drove off. Bill watched him drive over the lone road until he was out of view.

Bill let out a sigh and relaxed. He cursed under his breath, then headed to the stairwell and ascended another floor. The room there was also riddled with pallet racks, but it was a lot smaller than the one he was just in.

"Come on out," he hollered.

One of the doors opened and the three protos stepped out. Freddy, Bonnie and Chica, their synthetic skin still damaged, but cleaner than when Douglas found them. They resembled their successors at the restaurant, barring some differences in color scheme.

"Is he gone?" Chica asked.

Bill nodded. "For now. But I think I made him suspicious."

"You think he'll be back?"

"I don't know if he'll bother. He said he was looking into the nightguard thing at the Restaurant itself…"

"Then why'd he come here?" Bonnie asked, sounding oddly uninterested.

"Because he knew I talked to Douglas."

A silence fell at the mention of Douglas' name. The incident a few weeks back—where Douglas' curiosity almost led to Griffiths destroying the protos—had still left them sour. Bill couldn't blame them. It had been their lives on the line.

He sighed, taking out his phone. "I'm calling Kyle. He needs to know about this."