Some Things Are Better Left Buried

By: Miss-DNL

Chapter 31: Preshow

Clifton uttered a slow groan as he came to and then winced in pain right after. It felt like he'd been hit on the back of the head with a metal rod…The sensation was familiar due to an accident during mechanics class while he was in college. Some dumbass had been messing around and he'd received the repercussion of it, a swift knock upside the head. Clifton's head rolled to the side, tentatively he pried an eye while trying to recall what in the world had happened. He was greeted with a near pitch-black darkness. The sole ray of light came from underneath a doorway. Clifton opened his mouth to try and call out for help. What he managed sounded more akin to a raspy groan, than a call for help. His bell had been so thoroughly rung, he could barely make a noise.

With words not an option Clifton decided, through his delirium, to try and move over to the door. His attempt to move himself was reprimanded by several, sharp, slicing and stabbing pains all over his torso, along with his arms. A cry of pain shot from his mouth, which caused the knot on the back of his to protest the sudden jerk. Clifton gasped to himself and he blinked tears out of his eyes. The fresh teardrops left streaks of warmth down his cold face. Wherever he was it was cold, not as bad as a freezer but a tad more than chilly. His torso and arms; however, were kept warm by whatever entrapped them. Sweat was trapped between his arms and thick work shirt, increasing his discomfort.

Whatever he was stuck in, he needed to get out. It was cramped and hurt bad. He carefully attempted to move his hands. With luck, he found that he could move them with only mild discomfort. There was a slick and warm substance between his finger. Initially he thought it was sweat, but it felt more viscous than that.

Clifton's foggy train of thought was derailed when he heard a familiar jingle, whistling, caught his attention. It sounded like Freddy's virally catchy tune but was different in ways he couldn't place. He wasn't versed in the mechanics of music. Something in Clifton's gut instinct; however, told him danger was lurking just beyond the door. Any thoughts of calling attention to himself were immediately vetoed. He clamped his mouth firmly shut. In his battered head, he hoped that if he kept quiet whoever it was would go away.

Still wanting to know where he was Clifton looked around but there wasn't much visible to him. He did note that the room seemed small. Outside his dark space shoes hitting linoleum floor was heard. The whistling was getting closer. Clifton stopped, for a moment, it seemed like the person was going to walk in. This wasn't the case. The footsteps and whistling stopped. Shortly after, the footsteps started up again, stopped again, and then the sound of clunky objects being moved around. Clifton couldn't hazard a clue what was going on outside his space.

The hell was going on? Where was he and how did he here? And what was he stuck in? Were the only thoughts going through Clifton's anxious mind.

He became more frantic when the footsteps sounded right outside of his small dark space. Clifton looked all around himself. For what, he wasn't sure, but he had to find something. He learned something hard and metal was just behind his head, when his already throbbing skull smacked right into it. A loud pained yelp sprung from his mouth and left him dizzied again. This oddly didn't seem to alert the person outside his space, as the door didn't immediately get tossed open. This left the pained and dazed Clifton confused.

When the door did open, a brief while after, the white spots had cleared from Clifton's vision. He was by then coherent enough to feel his heartrate pick up as it slowly glided open. The technician and mechanic stared at a plain, white painted, brick wall and familiar dark colored door. Then it clicked. Carefully he looked around again, sure enough, behind him was a metal bookcase full of spare suit parts. He was in the parts and services supplies closet and stuck inside a Freddy Fazbear torso. Beams and wires were cutting into him, like he was a fresh hunk of meat.

Before he could question how this happened something poked itself around the corner. Clifton froze up like a deer in headlights. In the doorway was, Bonnie? The bunny's long purple ears hung off at a jaunty angle. With the light to his back, Bonnie's expression was shrouded in shadow. Only his white teeth were barely visible. He seemed to be gleefully smiling at him. For what reason, Clifton didn't really want to know.

"Well, look whose awake!" Bonnie chirped cheerily. Clifton stared, surprised to hear the bunny's happy-go-lucky voice come out from the mask. He wasn't sure what he expected, but something told him that wasn't right. He then realized that the animatronic didn't have any line of dialogue remotely close to that. That meant this wasn't the animatronic he was looking at, but the voice sounded spot on. Uncertainty squirmed in his gut because of that.

"Who…are you?" Clifton managed as he dubiously stared at the bunny. Was he in some sort of strange nightmare?

Merry laughter came from the bunny and he shook his head, like he couldn't believe he'd just been asked that. The laugh sounded correct as well. Clifton had only worked at Freddy's for a week, but after listening to the animatronics do their shows over and over…he felt he knew their voices by heart. The bunny bounded into the room with the gusto of a proud performer.

"Ta-dah! It's me, your pal, Bonnie the Bunny!" Bonnie announced, standing center stage, one arm held upwards as the other motioned to himself.

Clifton's jaw hung open as he continued to stare, not believing what was happening. A small metallic silver rectangle on the supposed bunny's chest helped him snap out of his trance. Now angry, Clifton shouted at the masked man, "Gregor! The hell do you think your doing!? Get me out of this suit!"

Gregor didn't seem fazed by his demand and innocently tilted his head to the side, causing the ears to sway with the mask. Clifton closed his mouth. The way the masked moved with the head, was too fluid and made him go quiet for the moment. Gregor clicked his head all the way back over to the left, to the point the side of the mask was resting on his shoulder. One ear laid on top of the other.

"Gregor? I'm not Gregor." He stated.

The earnest innocence in the Bonnie voice caused Clifton's skin to crawl. He sounded so honestly confused, but that wasn't right. He could see it was him. Out of defensiveness, wanting Gregor to knock off the act, Clifton reasserted his point "Bullshit! I can see your uniform Gregor! Your name tag is sitting right there!"

Gregor's head perked back to its upright position. He eyed the name tag, sitting right above his golden security badge, seeming to mull over its presence. Wordlessly he plucked it right off his uniform, creating a small tear, and tossed it into the parts and service's room.

"Nope! Nope! Nope!" Gregor chanted, still using Bonnie's cartoony voice. He jerked forward, quickly swatted Clifton upside the head, making him recoil back. He stepped back into his previous spot and began swinging his hands around, shuffling his feet, as he sang, "I'm not Gregor! Nope! No sirree!"

Clifton had no response for the display. The situation felt and looked so surreal. He could only think that Gregor had lost it and was holding him captive for whatever demented reason. Through his reinvigorated pain, he recalled that Gregor had been the one to knock him out. This realization was of little help to him for the moment. He watched as Gregor continued the repetitive motions and realized this was the "dance" that Freddy did. Wasn't so much a dance as it was a nice-looking shuffle.

While dancing, Gregor began to whistle once more. The sound clearer now, Clifton began to feel a creeping sense of familiarity. He'd heard it before today. When working in the parts and services room, alone.

"Who are you?" He wasn't looking at Gregor. Whoever was looking at him from behind the bunny mask, it wasn't him.

The whistling slipped into a questioning hum. His head swayed to the side and the Bonnie voice responded, "You still haven't figured it out, hm? I'd thought you'd be smarter." The insulting edge to the voice, uncharacteristic to the friendly mascot, was clear as day. A faux sigh, "Oh well…"

In the next moment, Gregor perked up. He snapped finger then exited stage right without another word, the door shutting behind him.

Clifton strained his ears to try and hear what was going on, all he could manage was the sound of rummaging tools, or the like being moved around. Then there was a hollow "thunk", he wasn't sure what the rest was, but it lasted for a while. Brief silence. Then footsteps heading back over to the supply room door. Clifton felt himself stiffen, in attempt to ready his nerves for whatever was going to happen now.

The door opened again. Clifton expected, whoever he was dealing with, to make a similar entrance as he did last time. Instead, the bunny masked person just walked in, posture straight and shoulders squared. He turned to face Clifton and…said nothing. He stood there, arms at his sides, still as possible, staring down at him. In the light from his work room, Clifton could see some modifications had been made to the mask. Some distinct changes that Clifton immediately recognized and left him petrified.

The name was stuck in his throat, it didn't want to come out. The man that wasn't Gregor mocked him for this as he walked forward, one step at a time. "S-sp-spa-spring-," In a snap he slammed Clifton up against the metal shelving, digging in the beams and wires deeper into his body. "Springtrap!"

Clifton gasped, the pain was like he got branded on multiple parts of his body at once. He could feel fresh blood seeping out of him. The possessed Gregor released him roughly and took a few steps back, laughing amusedly in a voice that wasn't the body's own. Gregor's normal voice wasn't a very deep one it was smooth, usually with a dull tone. This one was much different from Gregor's and the Bonnie's. It was several octaves lower and smooth as sandpaper.

"Glad you caught on, don't think I could've been clearer than this…" Springtrap pointed to the Bonnie ear that was now missing its upper half. Then to the carved-up mouth, the teeth were now left exposed and gnarled. Through his pain, Clifton noted he sounded a bit like someone from off the street, though he wasn't sure with the ethereal echo to the voice. It was just off enough that it sounded normal but not right at the same time.

Clifton opened his mouth to speak but Springtrap cut him off, "Don't bother ask'in about Scott here. He's…asleep." He then scoffed, "Nearly woke him though, he actually liked your idea. Ah, so close." Thanks to the carved grin, Clifton didn't need to see the snide grin he had Gregor's face wear. Clifton bristled and pulled his face as far away as he could when Springtrap dipped his masked visage down to him. They were only a few inches apart, but those inches nearly felt nonexistent. Clifton swore he could smell the rank odor of decay. "I'll be sure to let him see what he did tomorrow."

Everything seemed to go still for Clifton. The precious blood seeping out of him more evident. He knew what the murder meant, but he felt compelled to ask. He swallowed, his throat felt parched, "What?"

Maybe it was the blood loss, but the mask's grin seemed to curl as Springtrap pulled back. "That he killed you."

"No-No, you did this! Not him!" His argument meant nothing, but building panic demanded he protested.

"But he did." Springtrap's voice progressively grow angrier as he went on, "He dragged me out of my resting place! He and everyone else involved will suffer for it!" He was practically screaming at Clifton by the end of it, but then, he stood back up and exhaled. The murderer's demeanor dropped back to a more collected one. Springtrap pulled a folded paper out from Gregor's pocket, held up for his captive to see. "Even got a nice list, complete with info, to do it."

Clifton stared at the paper, panic over took him, and he began to struggle to move. What he planned to do if he managed to get up, he didn't know, but he had to something. Everyone's lives were more on the line than before, and not just the night guard's. Springtrap just stood and watched the writhing mechanic futile thrash in the suit, the paper held taunting like prize.

"The others don't know anything about you! Their innocent! Leave them alone!" With each move he made he felt his body get cut into again and again. Try as he might, he couldn't even get himself off what he believed to be a chair. He felt his legs were tied tightly to the chairs'. Clifton couldn't even get them to so much as budge. Around his knees and ankles were tough cords meant for the animatronic's. He was stuck fast, there was no chance of him getting up from his spot.

"True." Springtrap admitted through Gregor, as he tucked the list back into a back pocket. A faint chuckle wafted from the mask, "But that's never been an issue for me."

Clifton clenched his jaws out of disdain. It only took the thought of who he was speaking with to figure out what he was referencing. Springtrap gave an amused grunt when Clifton only glared at him. It didn't seem like Clifton was going to speak, so he continued, "This'll be a perfect way to finish my horror show, ending Freddy's."

"Horror show? That's what this is, just a show for you?" Clifton questioned. He could only glare at the homicidal phantom who leered at him from the masked. For the moment, his anger towards him override was what impending.

"Of course. I was an entertainer for this franchise." The phantom's words were so casual, like he was simply speaking about his employment and nothing else. He leaned his head back down to Clifton's eye level, hands on his knees. The smell of rot stung Clifton's nose that was already tainted with the odor of his own blood. It seemed to be coming from Gregor's breath, regardless Clifton gave a restrained cringed at the smell. A reminiscent tone dripped into Springtrap's calm ethereal voice, "It wasn't intentional, really, but I made an entertaining night show. Rumors made about me and it were the talk of the town."

Springtrap observed Clifton, whose face was beginning to pale. Saying nothing to that, he righted himself and flicked his hands out. "But, it's time to close shop." The matter-of-factness rung as a grim finality in his words. Springtrap cocked the mask to the side with an excited eagerness, "But, it won't end there. Not even close."

That said, Springtrap turned around and walked out of the storage closet. Clifton watched him leave, unable to do anything to stop him. He was beginning to feel sluggish, his eyelids felt a little heavier than he recalled them being. The sound of the murderer's voice pulled him from his stupor, "Tell me, Schwartz, which is your favorite? Freddy, Foxy, Bonnie, Chica?" Clifton stared at the doorway, what was he on about? He stayed silent and the killer went on, "Mangle?" No response. Unfazed by the silence, Springtrap adds, "Other two won't work."

Clifton remained quiet, a weak show of defiance but it was all he had.

After some time passed, Springtrap took the choice into his own hands. The sound of a hollow mask was heard and then it being placed on the work table. The serial killer hummed to himself as he worked with it. Clifton began to notice the heaviness of his eyelids again. Blood was still seeped from his various wounds. The chill in the storage room seemed more notable. His attention perked back up when he heard footsteps. He wasn't sure but Springtrap's return seemed faster than expected.

Now wearing his work gloves, the killer held a Foxy mask in his hands. Springtrap gave tsk, like anyone would to a disobedient child, "Won't match the suit, but you didn't say anything."

Clifton pressed his head back as far as he could as the mask got closer. There was no escape, he knew this, but survival instinct had him struggle. Foxy's head was narrower than Freddy's, leaving less room between the beams. Seemingly every inch of his head was scored by the thin metal pieces. By the time Springtrap had it securely stuck on he could no longer see, his eyes had been cut.

"There we go." Springtrap said over his victim's simpering, agonized moans. A nice layer of red was already coating Clifton's neck as he weakly swayed his head. A whine came from him when Springtrap grabbed the mask and made him meet his gaze. A sadistic sneer was no longer hidden in his voice, "Almost done, just the limbs to go. Don't worry, death isn't so bad. The pain just…" A laugh that didn't sound right came from him. It sounded amused yet fake. The mask's grin became lopsided as he titled his head, "never, ever, ends."

Clifton only uttered choked whimpers. He didn't notice when the serial killer left, nor when he came back with the suit limbs. It was a hodgepodge collection, a leg from Bonnie and one from Chica, a Foxy hook arm and a white arm from Mangle. At first, Clifton's cries rose to their former heights but quickly they became weaker and weaker. By the end of it the palms of the gloves were splattered with blood, from roughly forcing and twisting the parts on over flesh. This didn't matter and Springtrap wiped them off on Gregor's pants.

He looked at the suit that encased a man and the blood that was already seeping from it. Springtrap lifted Clifton's eyes back him, grin on the mask still ever present, "I'd love to stay till your very end, I really would, but I have a schedule. You know how it is."

The Foxy mask slunk down to the Freddy torso once Springtrap let go. The killer walked back to the closet entrance and plucked something out from a back pocket. This time it was a wallet. He opened it and looked at a photo of a family that was inside. Springtrap looked back to the dying man and dealt one final blow. "You'll be missed, I'm sure."

He said nothing more and let that thought to worm its way into Clifton's dying mind. Springtrap shut the door and whistled as he got ready for the night shift. From the storage closet faint sobs leaked through.

Author's Note:

Got this chapter out faster than last time, count that as a win. I also noticed that this story has gotten just over 50 favorites. Holt shit, thanks guys! Also big thanks for the influx of reviews/comments from Little Kunai. I couldn't reply to all of them, there was so many lol, but I truly appreciate them. All the more encouragement for me to finish this! Which, I'm getting close to! Again, Night 7 won't be the last night but only two more to go!

I could've gotten this out a bit sooner but I wanted a friend of mine "Renagade Rex Sphinx" to look it over to make sure I was getting the feel I wanted. I looked this chapter over three times so hopefully it pays off. I tried to keep the dialogue to a certain amount to avoid it getting too chatty, avoid monologue'ing, and giving too much away. The chapter was also clearly inspired by the "don't move" scene from the first book, one scene I legit like, but with my own spin.

More from Springtrap/Davey and more on what his deal is. Not everything but I had to save some stuff for Mike, but you got to see what the poor man is going to be dealing with. Speaking of, getting back to Mike next chapter!

Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think, really eager to hear thoughts on this one! :D