A pained groan tumbled from Gregory Scott's head, which felt like something explosive had been set off inside it. He squeezed his eyes shut as he sluggishly rolled his head one way, then the other. This pitiful attempt to unrattled himself did nothing to sedate the pain. In fact, upon rolling it to the right he unwittingly knocked his forehead into something, hard. With a sharp hiss, Gregor snapped his head away, suddenly gaining more lucidity.

"Son of a-agh." He snarled to himself, hand gripping his forehead. As he did, Gregor stilled. The palm of his hand had an odd feel to it. It wasn't the numbness of sleep. That prickling feel. No, something was crusted atop his skin. This puzzled him enough that it pulled the focus off his potential bruise. Dazed, and possibly delirious, Gregor pulled the hand up to into his field of vision, eyes squinted in the dull light to focus his sight. He couldn't make out what coated his hands, but it was dark. Perplexed, he rubbed his fingers together. Granules flecked off in bits, like dirt but in greater clumps.

"What…?" The new bits of data weren't enough to identify the crude. Had he passed out in food? Gregor hadn't recalled eating since…when had he eaten? It felt like he'd eaten. Breakfast surely. Sidetracked Gregor ran a hand through his hair. Yeah, he'd eaten a granola bar. Healthy, but inadequate in terms of amount. No wonder he was out of it. He'd been running on fumes before.

Suddenly, the stench of sweat emanating from himself made his head jerk away from his own arm, he groaned in disgust. Foul, salty, stickiness clung to his skin. His sense of smell had certainly kicked back in. Great, He grumbled inwardly.

Mystery crude would have to wait, he needed to check what time it was. He needed to head home to take a shower, change clothes, and have something to eat. Gently, this time. Gregor felt his surroundings to find purchase and hefted himself up on uneasy legs. It took more effort than it should've, like he'd aged twenty years. His breath was weighted from exertion. Despite the apparent rest, he was exhausted, but more sleep he knew was pointless. Gregor was well aware of that at this point.

As he gazed around where he found himself, Gregor contemplated getting a prescription for- whatever sleeping pill he could. Would that counteract the grudges of angry spirits? It didn't hurt to try.

What am I doing in the main stage control room? He hadn't even thought about going into this place recently. What with this being one of Clifton's stations…and they weren't exactly on speaking terms as of late. They were barely tolerant of each other's presence, or rather, Clifton was barely tolerant of his presence. Gregor gave a long sigh as he headed for the door, great, now I'm sleep walking, another reason to get sleeping medication. What time is it?

Pushing open the door he was met with a bleak inky darkness. Gregor stilled and immediately shut the hidden door. Heartrate kicked up several notches, panic injected into his veins, hair bristled, Gregor immediately shot his eyes around the room desperately searching for a clock. On the main console, there standing out among the dull camera screens of the stage and pizzeria party room was a set of red numbers: 6:43 am.

Gregor felt the hysteria drain from his body. The spirits would be "asleep" by now, or whatever the hell the state was that they fell into during the day. After turning to face the door again, taking a few breaths to release the strain on his nerves, Gregor exited out to backstage. Now with a clearer frame of mind, he could see some of the rising morning light leaking out from the halls, it was faint but coming in, nonetheless. He just hadn't been looking carefully enough before. Now that he thought about it, he should've turned the lights on since he was in the control room. Gregor shook his head at this. Yet another reason to get some meds, the lack of sleep was really screwing with the ability to think.

As he flipped on the lights, another thought occurred to him, might as well see the damage the animatronics caused…Gregor really hoped that Mike hadn't been done in. There wouldn't be anyone that could handle the animatronics like he could. Aside from Isaac Vargas that was, but no way in hell would he be able to convince him. The man made it explicitly clear that he wanted nothing to do with them. He'd warned them. Yet, they didn't listen. Gregor's finger hovered over the last light switch, hanging limp in the air as he hung his head. Guilt hung over him disapprovingly.

"All three of you, should just leave this alone. There's a reason why Freddy's kept shutting down, and you idiots should follow the example."

Gregor's hand stiffened, curling into a ball. Defiant, he flipped the switch on. The past wasn't his fault. He'd figure out some way to sort this mess out. Hold out until these restless spirits were dealt with and build what was originally intended from the ashes. These ghosts, children, wouldn't scare him off from the only thing he had left, the only good thing he had in his life. The past wasn't his fault. It was just a series of unfortunate events. It shouldn't stop the present from being enjoyed. Yet, in spite of how hard he tried to convince himself, his guts tied itself in knots. There was no going back, not now.

Now that the lights were all turned on, Gregor was met with a rather substantial mess. Since he'd learned that the animatronics were haunted, this was the biggest fall out he'd seen from them. Tables were askew, chairs were topped, a whole table mat was tossed aside, leaving everything that'd been on it tossed all over. Of course, he noticed the blood stains immediately. There was a trail of it going around the table, to the front of the stage then back into the hall. That wasn't to mention the smell coming from the stage itself. It smelt of death, utterly foul. His mind went back to the corpse of the killer in the Spring Bonnie suit. This stench though, had an added layer of awful, something just wrong, tar-like. Gregor gagged, stepped back, covered his nose, and waved and arm. As he did, he caught sight of the crude on his hand again.

It had a red hue to it.

Dried blood.

The revelation sent Gregor running to the nearest bathroom, men's women's didn't matter. He turned on the faucet and began to wash it off, with a frantic, feverish scrubbing. As he did, he noticed some rubbed off on the handle. Panicked, he wiped at it. It smeared. His alarm spiked further. He whipped his head around looking for a paper towel dispenser. He tore out paper after paper until there was a clump in hand. Forcefully he rubbed it over the knob then tossed it into a trash bin once the red was cleaned off, knowing he'd have to collect the trash once clean. One thing at a time, one thing at a time, he repeated over and over in his head. He could clean this up. He had to.

Back to cleaning off his hands, he caught a glance of his reflection. He stared. His uniform was splattered in crimson. He looked like he'd…like he was a…

Killer. Murder.

Gregor couldn't look away. The sight had him transfixed. His blond hair was ragged, drenched in sweat and a mess, like the rest of him. His skin was pallid, pale, except for the heavy, dark bags under his eyes. Grey eyes stared back at him lifelessly, puffy from inadequate sleep, just short of bloodshot no doubt. He could barely recognize himself. The only thing that'd pried him from his own countenance was an odd bit of white peeking out from his shirt pocket. Eyes still locked on his own visage, Gregor mechanically lifted the flap, the button oddly not done, but he was too shell-shocked to process the fact. Not caring as his wet finger stained the paper, slowly peeled his eyes from his own gaze to look at the water-bled paper.

Take a look in the Parts & Services closet

The lettering was scrawled sharply, it looked and felt like a ransom note. The water from his hands causing the lettering to bleed, tinted it red, making the letters a crimson tint. Chilled, Gregor tossed the paper into the garbage under the paper towel dispenser. The paper, weak from the water, tore, bits of it sticking to his hands. Frustrated and frantic, Gregor snatched a paper towel and scrubbed the paper off his fingers, leaving bits of it behind. He dusted his hands off on his pants. He was going to have to change his uniform and trash this set anyway.

That "sorted out", Gregor stared at the remains of the message, debating with himself whether to follow it or not. He knew that wasn't Clifton's writing. He'd seen his notes on his reports, or notes in the Parts & Services room. It was a messy scrawl, yes, but he wrote very small. No way was this message from Clifton, or anyone for that matter. That left the ghost children.

What have they done now? He thought irately to himself. Immediately, his mind snapped to Mike. "Shit." He hissed.

Doing his best to keep his footsteps steady, Gregor did as the note said and headed to the mechanic's room. Strangely there wasn't a trail of blood leading to it. There were a few stray flecks here and there but not a consistent trail of it like in the party room. When Gregor entered the room, everything looked about the same. There were a few pieces slightly out of place, animatronic casings on shelves where they shouldn't be (Chica pieces with Bonnie ones), and a full animatronic endoskeleton on the table, tools littered about. It was noteworthy because Clifton kept his space tidy. However, with things as they were, Gregor just assumed that the man was tired and so was slipping a bit in his usual work ethic. As such, he moved towards the closet.

The smell of blood had gotten thick by the time he turned towards the back hall, now, it was reminiscent of when they'd found Cole stuff in the suit. Not a good sign. Gregor braced himself for what he knew was coming. He opened the closet door. Sure enough, there was a body stuffed into the suit, but, strangely, it had cases from different characters. Also, now that he looked it over, the body was propped up on a chair. Why would the animatronics go through the trouble of having the guard sit on one, when the worktable would be easier? In the closet no less. Gregor stalled, the thought holding him in place.

Somethings off. Gregor had only seen one kill of the animatronics, but based off what he'd read in the journal, this didn't fit their M.O. It just didn't line up. Something on the floor caught his attention. In the dried, blood stained, floor; the black tiles-stained crimson, white turned red, something lay. Cords, encrusted in stained blood. This person had been tied up then stuffed into suit pieces. The hairs on his arms, on ends, Gregor spotted another detail that stuck out, lying on the lap. Enticed to move closer, he approached and plucked the item up from a Chica leg casing.

It was a Hurricane driver's license. Clifton Swartz's driver license.

Gregor's mind grinded to a halt. How- why had Clifton died? How had he been caught and killed? And why…why had there been a message about it inside his shirt pocket. Just then, a realization hit him. The card fell from his fingers.

His hands had been covered in blood. He was covered in blood, and he knew whose blood it was.

A scream of terror flung itself from Gregor's lungs. Blindly he backpedaled from the closet, uncaring of the fact he stumbled into the door. Completely and blindly, desperate to get away from the harrowing revelation that he'd been faced with, Gregor scrambled into the mechanic's room. He fumbled and managed to pull himself back up to his feet. When he did, he was met with yet another harrowing sight that caught him with the utmost firmness.

A Bonnie mask, made to look like the thing they'd sealed away: Springtrap.

Eyes wide and glazed with fear, Gregor could only stare. His mind repeated a desperate, pleading mantra that this couldn't be. If it was, then that meant, he was... A foul stench of decay crept up on him. He felt something looming over him. Gregor wanted to whimper, but it was too scared to. One, two, three, four, fingers gripped the side of his face and a thumb pressed against the back of his skull. He could them with a pressure somewhere between solid and not there. He could feel the varying textures of the fingers. Where skin had been torn away for what was beneath. How one digit was missing the tip. Tears began to form in his eyes. The grip on him, gently and firmly, turned his head to look over his shoulder. Fear overrode his desire to comply submissively. He didn't want to see. The grip turned forceful, the pressure on the back of his skull most convincing. Terrified, eyes fully tearing, Gregor looked. He screamed and it was met with an organic animatronic shriek.

"HELLO BOY'S AND GIRLS, WELCOME TO FREDDY FAZBEARS! THE GANG AND I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A FAZ-TACULAR FUN TIME!"

A chorus of excited cheers responded, overwhelming the ambient background sounds for a moment.

"GREAT TO HEAR!"

"IN THAT CASE," A chipper voice chimed in, "LET'S ROCK!"

A guitar riff blared through the air, followed shortly by the ecstatic peal of children, lots of children. Lights danced about the room along with small bodies. Music was pumped through the surround sound system making the air vibrate. Everything felt so strangely alive.

Gregor sat in a booth as he watched the scene with a pizza slice in hand. He blinked slowly, feeling oddly out of place. When…had he gotten here? In a haze, he looked back to the rest of the booth. The figures of his parents were there, silent and enshrouded. Gregor wasn't concerned though. It wasn't like he needed or wanted to see them, much less interact. They were just making the minimal effort of getting out of the house and entertaining their child. An effort to stave off another impending argument between the two. It never really worked, for long anyway. Gregor was just happy to be out of their cramped and dirty apartment.

Taking a bite of pizza, not really tasting anything nor noticing, he looked back out to the crowd of shapes and figures. Gregor smiled at their presence, feeling a part of something fun. Even if he wasn't directly engaging with the other kids. Beyond them the big animatronics, larger than life, putting on a show that never got old. Colorful lights swaying around, casting swirls of color everywhere, like a real-life wonderland. He couldn't ask for more. He never wanted to leave. He hated it when he had to leave. Going back to the miserable excuse for an apartment he was made to call home.

As he took another bite of pizza, he caught sight of something in the crowd. What he saw made him pause. It was odd but he couldn't pin why…it wasn't entirely out of place, but he got the sense it shouldn't be there, nonetheless. Gregor looked at the other people in the crowd, to see if they noticed it also. No one else did. They were just continuing to party, chat or eat amongst themselves. That or they were just that glued to the performance, which was understandable. Freddy and the gang were the best. Still, as he watched…it almost seemed like they didn't even know it was there as it moved around through the crowd, ears subtly bobbing as it went. A yellow and purple shape amongst the patrons, looming over them all. Yet, they paid no mind.

Transfixed, Gregor watched it move through the sea of people, easily as if walking through nothing at all. Not once did it bump into, seemingly, anyone at all. Not even once. There was almost like a swaying dance to the movements, a flow not found in regular walking. A sudden series of loud pops distracted Gregor, snapping his attention to a group clustered heavily around a table. A birthday. Of course, that's why it was extra packed. A pang of envy shot through Gregor. Even with how much he'd been here, Gregor had never had a birthday party at Freddy's. No matter how much he begged. They went there enough, what difference would it being a party make? Not like he'd had friends to justify one.

Wait, the yellow figure. He looked back to where it'd been. Gone. Gregor almost felt a little disappointed, but it must've ducked into one of the other rooms. Oh well, he hopped out of the booth and went to the arcade room not bothering to tell his parents as he did. They didn't respond.

As he entered the arcade room, the air filled with various beeps from the cabinets, the floor carpeted now, with swirls and shapes of various colors, he tripped over his own feet. Gregor grunted in annoyance as he pulled himself up. The chitter of other kids snickering made his face hot with embarrassment. Used to it, Gregor moved to the first arcade cabinet and pushed a token into the slot. The game came alive with a blue maze filled with fruits and a little redheaded girl with pigtails and a pink dress. It was fruity maze. This wasn't exactly his favorite game, not even top ten, but at least he was good at it. He played the game, grabbing all the power ups as he went along, flying through the levels at a rate he'd never done before. The tickets were practically flying out of the machine. Ecstatic, Gregor played with new zeal eager to see how far he could get! He maneuvered around quickly, flying through the walls pulling in massive amounts of fruit. The points climb higher and higher. He was nearly done but, somehow, he couldn't find the last one!

"Where is it?" He muttered to himself. He was certain he'd covered every corner. The timer began to blip down, quickly. "Where is it?" He repeated, more anxiously. One after another, he lost his ghost and magnetic power up. Then, the time ran out. Despondent he wailed, "No!"

Wanting to go again, Gregor shoved his hand into his pocket, fishing around for another token. Not feeling any, he checked his other, again nothing. Not believing this he pulled them inside out, still nothing. Why had he come in here with only one token? He didn't recall using others, had he? His shoulders slumped. Gregor was not looking forward to asking his parents for bills to turn into Faztokens. He bristled, was that more mocking laughter he heard just beneath the ambient noises from the games? Gregor curled his hands up in frustration. Why did it feel like everything was against him? Couldn't he just be happy?

"Aw, out of tokens? That's too bad." Suddenly a voice crooned, right beside him. Gregor jumped, startled. An amused snigger made him look up. It was the yellow thing. A big, golden-yellow rabbit that looked like Bonnie, purely because of being another bunny. It had a big bunny-toothed grin plastered wide on its face. With its head tilted closely towards one of its shoulders, it looked down at him, as if sympathetic. If it weren't for that grin. More alarmingly, Gregor didn't know when the thing had snuck up on him. How could he not hear something more than twice his size come up beside him?

Gregor took a step back, "Uh, yeah?"

"And you were doing so well." The rabbit clicked.

"It's fine. I'll just go ask my parents for another dollar." Gregor responded, not knowing why he was entertaining this conversation. He stilled when he felt a hand grab him when he moved to leave. He bristled, it felt bizarrely familiar.

"Now, do you really wanna do that?"

Alarmed Gregor turned and pulled away, blurting out, "What?"

The rabbit had leaned its head down towards his eye level, but not quite, its gaze still hovered over his. Unphased by his recoil, it casually continued, "Bother them I mean."

This got Gregor to still. He looked off towards the ground, at the shapes and swirls. He really didn't want to bother them. They'd probably give him another dollar, but they'd not be so happy about it. He'd end up feeling guilty about it somehow. He just wanted to have a bit more fun while he could. Why did they always side eye him with annoyance?

"No, not really." Gregor muttered in reply.

"Well," The rabbit began. "You're in luck!"

Gregor perked and gave him a questioning look, "You have Faztokens?"

To this, the rabbit laughed and waved the thought off, "No, no. I mean, I could but I have a much better idea!" He leaned in. There was the faintest whiff of something Gregor couldn't place. It hung just out of reach. Still, he reared his head back. Playfully, the rabbit whispered, "I know a room where all the games are free."

Gregor furrowed a brow skeptically, "Really?"

"Yes! It's a backroom for private parties." The rabbit explained, hands clasped together like it was excited to share this news. Gregor's silence prompted it to continue. It slipped to the other side of him with a short sideways bound, "There'll be no one else. You'll have it all to yourself." Crouched down beside him, it whispered, "No one to bother you, take your turn, make fun of you- or parents!"

It felt like the breath had been sucked out of Gregor. He was stuck between one choice and another. One he couldn't make for himself. Not knowing what to do, he quietly questioned, "You really mean it?"

The rabbit grinned its ever-present grin. Straightened itself up, leaned forward and offered his hand, "Of course. Just, take my hand and I'll show you."

Gregor took his hand.

The hall seemed to get minutely dimmer the further they went down the hall. Gregor hadn't gone into the back of Freddy's before…yet that didn't feel true. Where he treaded didn't feel untreaded by him. Yet, he didn't recall doing so. It left him feeling displaced. The fact that the rabbit made him feel the same way didn't help. Pictures lined the wall, streamers, and dangling stars the ceiling, but they all looked dingy and faded. Chills brushed their way past Gregor. He glanced back at the way they came the dim florescent lights were swallowed by the dark and it also seemed smothered the music. The party felt like it was in a completely different world from this hall. One lively one abandoned. It made Gregor anxious, could there really be anything in this hall? He didn't like the unreadable feeling that answered his question, so he focused on the large, gloved hand that held his. But unfortunately, that was strange in itself. The fabric didn't feel like it should. He could see the fabric texture, but the sensation didn't match. It was like, skin touching skin but that couldn't be right.

"Here we are!"

Gregor jolted from his thoughts and jerked his head up. There was a tall metal door before him. It was covered in party decorations, stickers, streamers, stars, and pizza props that he'd seem throughout the building. At the center there was a Freddy poster proclaiming, "Let's Party!" It was one he'd seen alongside others of his bandmates. The whole spot looked hastily put together, a collection of decorations thrown together but it was rather charming because of it and made Gregor curious to see what was inside.

Without another word the rabbit pulled the door and energetically ushered him into the room. Following the lead Gregor headed into the room and what he saw wowed him. The room was starkly different from the hall outside. The room was blooming with color so vibrant it practically glowed. With the party lights that dancing about in time with the music, which was played Fazbear song, it essentially did as it bounced off the various decorations. Party balloons bobbed in the air and glittery confetti appeared to fall consistently from the ceiling. The floor was the usual checkerboard, with confetti of various kinds, silver and gold shimmering stars and the colorful thin paper variety, coating it. The air was potent with the smell of fresh pizza, making his mouth water. The side wall of the room had a long table lined with open pizza boxes and a big bowl of what was probably punch. Along the back of the room were various arcade cabinets. Their various blinking screens beckoned him promises of fun.

Overjoyed Gregor ran into the room, towards the arcade cabinets. As he neared the center of the room he skidded to a halt, arms splayed out to the sides in surprise. What caused him to stop was a bizarre sight. Embedded into the floor was a- ball pit? A ball pit in Freddy's wasn't the odd part. It was the fact it the rim of it seemed to be just below the level of the floor, to the point he hadn't seen it from the entrance. There wasn't even a safety net either. The ball pit was strangely small too, it could fit maybe two kids at most. The plastic balls themselves looked normal for the most part, they were colorful and had a faintly sparkly shine to them. However, he couldn't seem to see any gaps between them. No sight of the ones they were lying on top of. Crouching down, Gregor leaned forward, trying to figure out the reason for the oddity. It looked like something was filling up the gaps and the balls were floating on too? Maybe?

What was that? Ink? It was dark and, now that he was close, there was a faint order. Like…burnt rubber?

What is that- Gregor gasped when something nudged him forward. He nearly tipped headfirst into the ball pit his arms pin wheeled I'm attempt to regain his balance. Before he fell into a large hand grabbed his shoulder. Bewildered he looked at who it was, the rabbit. The large mascot leered down at him, a purple glow filling its eyes. The grin hadn't visually changed yet now looked viler than before. Initially, Gregor was going to thank the rabbit buy his relief died at sight of its shrouded expression, thanks coming out only as a pitiful whimper.

"I just want to say, thanks."

"Wha-what?"

The rabbit twirled his hand thoughtfully, "Originally, oh-hoho, I was absolutely pissed," it stopped itself the growl in its settling back into mock cordialness, "still am, if I'm going to be honest, but, but" A gleefulness the made hair stand on ends surfaced as he pointed at Gregor, "You. Oh, you opened an opportunity I couldn't pass up." The lowered its head down, expression darkening, word smoothly slithering into Gregor's ears. "So, thanks, for digging me out of that rubble. Bye." At that the rabbit shoved him headfirst into the ball pit. As he broke through the surface, Gregor realized who the rabbit was and what happened before he fainted. Fear filled him as the tar-like substance sloshed over him, swallowing him. Just before he was consumed, he heard two last words, "For now."

What had he done…