Chapter 2

A Mystery Makings

It was official. On this day, Jason Silva Fox declared that he hated ghosts, especially ones found in apparently haunted video games. Marionette was firmly in agreement with him, petrified in shock at the figure before her. A young girl no older than say six or seven, tire tracks on her translucent body endlessly drenched in rainwater. Black, sludge-like tear stains poured down her cheeks like the familiar mask of The Puppet animatronic from the 80s. Was this heartbreaking sight the spirit allegedly bound to that mechanical creature? Were those rumors true to life? Poor girl…so young…so restless. None of this could be real; there was no way it was. Something about it seemed too visceral to be real. Stepping over gore, blood drawn down walls like a sick art show, missing posters decayed from years of weathering: only those of sick mind and body could have let such a nightmare fester in this room.

As soon as it came, it went, and with it, the visions dissipated into the darkness of the closet, leaving both tweens illuminated by the artificial hall light brazenly shining through the ajar door. "Nette…?" Jason began, regaining his senses and stifling the fear crushing his heart and lungs like tin cans under the ocean. He met his friend's gaze, unbridled horror reflected in her eyes. "Nette, whatever just happened to us both, let's not talk about it until later." Marionette nodded in agreement, too afraid to speak and in seconds, both crept away from the closet to their classroom where Evan was primed to meet them, visibly spooked for reasons they were hoping was not true.

{Did you see it too?} he signed, curious yet anxious of the answer. The trembling nod proved him right, to nobody's delight at all. "OK, let's pray that whatever that was, was just a prank or some sick, mass hallucination." Marionette said, taking in a breath to calm her racing heart as she stepped into the room. The twins nodded to themselves; if both of them had been plagued by this twisted vision as well as their friend, then they hoped that their younger siblings hadn't suffered something similar.


"So…what's it like being dead?" Peter wondered absentmindedly, plopped on the floor with his little wooden blocks for some schoolwork. He was a little upset that his block building had been interrupted (math was hard after all). "It's like being alive, but you're dead." the little ghost replied, joining the young boy in his block building with fun colorful numbers and tricky problems (10+10=?) to try and solve them. "Is it sad?" Peter asked again, his dumbfounded tone indicating that he had understood nothing. "Very sad. We can't hug people." the ghost answered. Peter reached out and attempted to hug the ghost to no avail, pouting at his inability to do so. "That is sad." he agreed. The specter nodded again. "It is…but hopefully we won't be like this anymore. We're gonna move on one day once we've gotten revenge against the bad man who killed us." A tiny smile across the greyed face. Some optimism in this dismal existence.


"But…what can we do to help you? You're dead, and we're just kids." Freddy queried, trying to subtly talk to the undead while hurrying through his schoolwork, praying to Scott that the teacher would not return. "You can talk to people for us. You're not-deaded enough so people listen." the greyed spirit spoke, a cheerful glint to its frozen visage of depression. "If this is true then, what kind of things would we be asking? And who would we be talking to?" Bonnie questioned, leaning over from his desk. "I dunno…but everyone else says to stay with you because we're part of you." the young ghost answered. Both boys shared a look as their chicken companion popped herself into the discussion, ignoring as her work papers fell aside across the floorboards. "Part of us..? What in tarnation d'ya mean by that?"

"...You know exactly what we mean."


I don't understand it. It couldn't have been a hallucination; Nette saw what happened. But, there is no way that shit was real." Jason was adamant that the closet incident had not been what it seemed. A hallucination it was not, he was certain. Though impossible to discern from reality, a mere illusion perpetrated by mental sickness could only affect the individual, never a group. And yet, that is exactly what those specters had done. "I don't know what that was…but it had to have meant something. Missing posters, dead children, bloodstained walls, even the names on the posters; does that not ring a bell to anyone?" Marionette added. The logo to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza lay unfinished on her page. {I'd ask why the spirits of a murder from the 80s are haunting us now, but if those rumors about the game are true, then I think it's clear why.} Evan didn't like where this was leading. He'd read enough material about the tragic tales of Fazbear Ent.'s businesses. Murders dating back all the way to 1956, a child getting his head crushed, another losing his frontal lobe, animatronic creations reeking of death and health hazards, it was a never ending laundry list of unforgivable sins.

"If it is related to the Missing Children Incident, then I hope we can get some more answers. And in a less violent manner too."


Part of them? That didn't make a lick of sense. How could a bunch of random kids be part of another bunch of random, dead kids? Chica couldn't quite put a feather on it, but something about one of those ghosts seemed familiar to her. Call it a hunch, but that spirit girl with curls bouncing all over her head, it reminded her of a picture she once saw. A poster of sorts, poorly tacked onto the wall of a Dollar General, faded as if it was millions of years old, maybe even from the 80s.

A pencil scribbled across a scrap of paper, words hastily written onto it before being passed through the communication network of little children. Across one end of class to the other and into the hook of a redheaded Fox.

"I think I saw the curly ghost before."

A note from Chica. Easy to pick out with such fancy chicken scratch. Fionn wasted no time writing a reply.

"Where, lassie?"

Back through the network to Chica it went, thankfully away from the eyes of the teacher. Only Scott himself (and maybe God too) would know what punishment awaited any child who got caught passing notes in class.

"A poster in a shop. It had Susie Gallus on it."

Interception! Freddy spotted the caveman-texting before him and he was an eager cub in getting in on whatever was happening. It wasn't hard to send his own message, after all, he was only a seat behind.

"What's the sitch?"

That was met with only confusion. Seems he was the only one to ever watch Kim Possible.

"What are you talking about?"

"Curly ghost girl. I saw her on a poster in a shop once. It had a name above her. Susie Gallus."

Funny, he recognized that name. Was it really? One of the Missing Children was here? No…it couldn't be, she was dead, and ghosts weren't real…

Well…they weren't supposed to be real. And if they were, then maybe Chica was right.


Home time. There was no Faction meeting scheduled today so the little ones were free as birds to run around and do dumb things, as all children did. And their "dumb thing" was attempting to crash the middle school and spring a jailbreak. Unfortunately, their brave quest to free the older three of their educational prison was foiled by the dastardly appearance of the lady at the big desk, or as the grownups referred to her, the "secretary". No one could foil the secretary; secretaries were a strong breed and they could read minds as well, after all, how else did they know everyone's names and their parents. "No! Our plan is doomed!" Chica cried, raising her arms to the sky as if asking "why God, why did you send the secretary?". She slumped her shoulders in disappointment. "How're we gonna break 'em out now?"

"Usually I would say strength in numbers since there's a…" she paused to count. Two bears, three bunnies, one chicken, two foxes and two balloons or 2+3+1+2+2 if you wanted to be intelligent, which was a big word, so it was a good thing to be (usually). "There's 2+3+1+2+2 of us, which equals a million."

"No it doesn't. It equals 10." Freddy corrected. "That's still bigger than one right?" Fianna asked, to which the bear nodded. "Good. There's 10 of us and 1 of her, but we still can't take her on. She knows everything, and she's psychic." Fianna wrapped her head in her jacket, attempting to prevent the secretary from reading her mind. "Maybe we should be lettin' 'em stew inside there fer a while. It might get Jason to finally tell Marionette that he loves her." Fionn suggested, relaxing on the concrete steps. "Maybe. Has Jason said anything yet?" J.J. queried, silently begging for a positive answer. "No, he keeps saying "we've only known each other a month" and "no one dates a month into knowing someone" and "I'm not in love with her" when it's obvious he is. I mean, they eat lunch together. They're obviously in love." Fianna did not believe a single word her older brother spoke about the issue. He was obviously in denial, and why did he keep bringing up dates? What did fruit have to do with anything?

Safe to say, their ship was sinking faster than the Titanic and the iceberg hadn't even hit yet. If only their little baby brains could understand the nuances of a relationship between two such characters; it'd blow their minds, or just confuse them. "Well, our plan's bust, now what?" Seán wondered, absentmindedly chasing after a butterfly. "What if we all got into a box and crawled around like-"

"SNAAAAKE!" Peter screeched, running away from a bush in fright. "Yeah, exactly like him!" Freddy grinned, needing a moment before he realized. "Wait, snake? What kind?" he queried, putting on his "serious" face for the threat of a snake was nothing to be joking about. Peter mimed the shaking of maracas. "The maraca snake. That makes noise." he yelped, diving behind his big brother for protection. That told the younger kids all they needed to know. A rattlesnake was near, and secretaries didn't matter anymore. With panic, Freddy shoved open the double doors and everyone dove inside the middle school, scrambling to their feet and sprinting as far away from the glass as they could. The little cub threw the doors shut and joined his friends, eyes trained for any sight of that infernal reptile should it dare rear its geometric head at his friends. He'd take it on, he'd take on hundreds if required of himself. Freddy Theodore Bearns (or Fazbear) was not a pansy (even if Teddy said he was) and he refused to be one.

"Now what?" B.B. asked, twiddling his thumbs in boredom. "Let's just wait for them to get out." Fianna replied, kicking back beneath the desk. They had time, and hey, maybe those weird ghosty things would come back.


Waiting an extra hour had been grueling for the younger kids to endure, but it was totally worth it! They got ice-cream from Sweet Screams Parlor for being so brave against that accursed diamond-patterned serpent. And for the ghosts too, though indirectly as no such discovery had been uncovered, yet. For the older three, the knowledge accrued of such an incident was branded in their minds forever. No matter what was done, the nightmare refused to leave the trio in peace. A walk through Salado town in 80°F weather with ice-cream and some guitar music seldom found itself flooded with anxiety, but that is exactly what it would be today.

Present he was not, Evan didn't need to be there to understand the horrors faced by his friend and twin. The sights seen were etched into his mind regardless, and try as he might, to forget it all he just could not do. Maybe it was the ghosts forcing his mind to ruminate on the tragedy, or he was being a pansy and just remembering to scare himself all over again. It didn't matter what it was though, what mattered was what that vision had been. Marionette was onto something about those posters. He recognized each name written. Had it really been the memory of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Just in Evan's peripheral, he could catch a clear glimpse of the restaurant, the brick building of tacky colors and overpriced food sat in the corner of his goggles, partly warped from the plastic of the lens. Though he hadn't been there in years, to think he was leaping with enthusiasm to go back, that was a lie. As much as he liked sweet things, pizza drenched in sugar syrup and frozen from the store was not worth $25 in any universe. Fionn followed his older brother's gaze, turning his head to squint his visible eye at the restaurant. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. It be an eyesore still I see. Wait! Avast me hearties, stop right there! I know what the spirits were talkin' about!" Triumph laced his voice as he grinned a toothy grin, so proud of himself for connecting the dots, completely unaware of what had just been revealed.

All three tweens ceased their movement in panic. Had the younger children seen such abominable horrors too? Marionette crouched before the redhead. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Fionn shrugged. "A crew of spirits rose from Davy Jones' Locker to speak to us today. One of them told Freddy and Bonnie and Chica that they were part of us and now I know what they meant."

Time stopped. The older three stood in a vacuum, the same sort of vacuum that a tornado would create as disaster came barreling towards you with twisting winds ready to rip you apart. The younger kids had seen those ghosts. If life was to be so cruel to force tongues, this was the hand it would play.

"You saw them too?" Marionette asked. "Yeah. Did you?" Seán replied, placing his own question on the table. Looks were exchanged. The kids weren't stupid; they got their answer.


"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza! I can't believe that tacky, lovable place is the answer." Freddy exclaimed, wide-eyed with glee. Once the older trio had mentioned the missing posters and other names, it all made sense. That's why the children believed they were all linked together, because they were…in a way. "That makes a lot more sense than them being the ghosts of a pirate crew made of lost kids." Bonnie eyed his vulpine friend with a knowing look to see the boy's scowl of disappointment clear as day written all over his face. "Explains why they said we were part of them." Chica added. "After all. Rumors say they were stuffed inside the bots, and here we are paradin' 'round just like them old tin cans. Costumes, names an' everythin'. We are part of them, kinda."

To put such events and cryptic conversations into group words certainly made it less of a Herculean task to take on. Though comforting to have some answers, speculations brought upon questions unable to be answered at this very moment. Nothing could be said for certain and no claims were made. Today was a fluke, that's how they would take it. Have a fun time, go home, sleep, and forget it all ever happened. It didn't make sense. It wouldn't be a problem.

Hopefully.


Babies, so unaware, so innocent. They had no need for the boon of life's wisdom, no need to eat that fruit from the tree. But Eli had no choice in the matter. He was cursed with the information no baby should have. And though he had not seen his cruel mother strike his big brother, he could see how her words cut into his skin. He meant that in more ways than one. But a baby cannot do much for wounds scored into skin with a knife. All he could do was crawl forth and sit there with round eyes reflecting two different colors, a near-perfect match to his big brother, though Eli was upset he had no black eye rings.

The eyes worked. They always worked. At least Eli had one thing; the power of baby persuasion.

Jason put the knife away and bandaged up his arms. He should never have let Eli see him, even if the baby had snuck downstairs on his own volition. Maybe he was being too harsh on himself, after all, the baby was in bed before any of this happened. It could've been avoided, but that didn't matter. Even if Eli wasn't on this Earth, he still should not have had to see such a gory sight.

He'd worry later. He had other things to worry about tonight. He had research to do, and a lot of it. All of their crackpot theories seemed to be shaping up. Was that game truly haunted? Or was he slipping back into yet another episode? God, he hoped it wasn't one of those. He'd only just recovered from one prior to the school year, and he didn't need that on top of cracked ribs, that inhumane collar, homework and tweenage awkwardness. OK, maybe those last two were petty…OK, they were petty.

"You're getting off track."

"Keep working."

"Maybe you're going crazy again."

"Fuck off, creepy voices."

"You should watch your language. Children are present." The chilling words spoken snapped Jason's fatigued mind towards it. Once more, a ghostly child had forced itself upon his presence and was now subjecting him to a lecture. Wonderful. "Sorry…" he apologized, petting Eli gently. "Are you looking into our case?" the ghost demanded, oddly short with the blond tonight. At least it wasn't being violent again. Jason doubted his absurdly lengthy locks could withstand being yanked with such force a second time. "I am, sort of. I'm trying to get some answers for all of…this…" He gestured his hands in a waving motion towards the snippy specter. "Hurry up then. Time's running out; our time is running out. As is yours."

Silence. The vision faded and Jason was left to ponder what it all meant. Turning to his baby brother whose eyes were wide with the benightedness of a growing infant, he placed his index finger to his lips and motioned a familiar sign. Silence. Don't say a word. Eli wouldn't tell of course. He was a good baby who never said anything unless he had to. But, he was still a baby, a creature that knew not of the terrors and tragedy hidden behind the appearance of the accursed spirit.

8pm? Surely, that wasn't too late now, not for a last minute search.


Tuesdays, they weren't Mondays, but that wasn't an excuse for the monochrome materializations of dead children to torment Bonnie all night. He hated nightmares, and that was all his slumber had been graced with. The endless assault of murder replayed in comatose hallucinations, the sight of a purple man plunging a dagger into the throat of someone not-him yet tied-to-him in such a way that Bonnie's skin burst with pain as the metal sheathed itself inside his trachea. And these ghosts had the gall to act so friendly. Tossing the sheets off of himself, he leapt from his bed and headed into the bathroom to wash the terror from his face. To no avail unfortunately, though his caramel skin tanned a light tan usually hid the worst of his sleeplessness…sort of, this time, dark rings were painted on his face clearer than the sun in the sky.

Upon closer inspection, it was made evident that said circles had been painted on, and the culprit had left the instrument of crime drying on the bathroom sink. A long, thin, plastic paintbrush whose owner was very well known throughout the household.

"TOBY IAN HAISSE!"

Oh well, at least they covered up his lack of sleep. Now if only they would wash off.


"Chica, honey? Are you feeling alright?" Chica's mother questioned, examining her youngest with intent. Usually, la polluela was raring to go in the mornings and munching down breakfast with speed, but today, she was barely pecking at her churros. "Estoy bien, mamá." Chica reassured, picking up a churro and munching down the entire thing with two bites. In reality, she wasn't bien at all, but it'd be over a tray of burned barbecue that she told her mother what had happened. T.C. turned into a sitcom laugh track when she caught wind of what had been seen; Chica wasn't gonna risk that kind of reaction again.


Anything taken from the mouths of babes is bound to be entertaining. Children say all sorts of things without ever realizing the implications of such. For the 1rst grade, such an apt descriptor it was. B.B., J.J., Peter and Gordon had not shut up about the fantastic phantasms who told them all such interesting things. Like how dying works, how robots move, and most importantly, the legend about the Spring Suit. Rumors of a still-functional suit had been commonplace for years, but if the dead kids of a murder at Freddy's were saying it was true, it had to be true; they had eyewitness testimonies and everything. Not just that however, if these rumors were true, then these dead kids were from Freddy's, and that meant that a mystery was in the makings to be solved by some crackshot kids with brainpower and cool magnifying glasses (those of which were, as always, the most important part). Maybe one of those funny hats too.

Peter and Gordon were ecstatic to help out; they wanted to do whatever they could for these kids. B.B. and J.J. though, they were a lot more skeptical. After much prying, they'd manage to extract a short summary of what these kids had done to their stepsister and her should-be-boyfriend, and if it was true, then these dead ghosts were not the neighborhood Caspers they pretended to be. It was all too strange, and knowing what August had been like, that was certainly a bold claim to state. Bus drivers driving with the door open, kids getting shock collars, the nurse going mad, and that was just at school. It was only late September and the year had already started off on a bizarre note. Dead ghosts putting on a facade only added to the weirdness, and to that, the skepticism. There was no way that this was legitimate and real, something about this had to be a joke, a hoax, a con even. Maybe it was the curse of youth to not understand what their comrades did, but both Balloon children refused to throw themselves in hats first. Not until they had something tangible and solid proof of non-hostility. No one should get away with scaring their big stepsister.


What time is it? It's time for recess! Children dashed from the building to be the first ones outside. Swingsets, jungle gyms, slides and more awaited the eager youths, but for those now acquainted with the undead, those were irrelevant. Time to talk together was what mattered now, and beneath a tree they all huddled themselves up, comfy in the warm grass under the shining sun and protected from the blazing rays by the green leaves high above; conversations had been quite riveting so far, little topics popping up here and there with enthusiasm, and best of all, ghosts. The children were desperate to ask questions and receive answers to all their crazy theories. The older trio were understandably reluctant to give any response at all, such mature topics were not appropriate to broach to a group of children so young. But, they were persistent, and when a certain specter swung a branch at Jason for withholding information, answers were finally given.

Fianna didn't care for any answers though, she was fuming that a ghost who had been all dandy with her not 5 minutes ago had just brutalized her injured older brother. One minute they're all smiles and friendship but the moment that Jason dared to state that talking of a murder case was not appropriate for a group of under 10s, all traces of benevolence were replaced by a blinding hate, as if they could not control themselves or rein in their aggressive behavior whether it be dirty looks or physical assault with a tree branch. To say such a two-faced display had set her off would be understating her fury. If rage was a swimming pool, she'd be struggling in the deep end of it. Of course, upon attempting to enact revenge with a stone to the chest, she had forgotten the first rule of ghostiness: they're intangible. And so, THUMP went the rock against a tree, passing through the ghost without harm. Lucky little spirit.

"The Missing Children Incident is the name of a cold case dating back to the 26th of June, 1987. 5 children were lured into a hidden room inside of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in the late evening. The suspect was arrested by police soon after videos showed him luring the children while dressed as Spring Bonnie. The victims' were: 10-year-old Gabriel Ursidaea-Smith, 9-year-old Jeremy Hasen, 8-year-old Susie Gallus, 8-year-old Fritz Vulpes and 6-year-old Michael Brooks." Marionette read off, stiffly speaking as she paged through Jason's grass-stained notes, no doubt green from the tumble he took across the grass after being beaned by bark. The icy presence of a spirit behind her sent literal chills down her spine, threatening her to do right by them and tell their tale as truthfully as she could. "No bodies were ever found, but the room where the children had been taken was found to be covered with blood, indicating obvious foul play. Because of this, most assume that the children were murdered with a knife, however no murder weapon has ever been found."

"Don't forget the most important part."

"Right. The children's bodies are thought to have been disposed of by being stuffed into the suits of scrapped animatronic characters Freddy Fazbear, Bonnie Bunny, Chica Chicken and Foxy the Pirate Fox. The 5th body, Michael Brooks, has left many confused though several believe him to have been stuffed into the suit of an animatronic known as Golden Freddy. When investigating, the arrested man had been found innocent of all crimes and was proven to have been unable to commit the mass murder. No one knows who the real killer is to this day."

"That's not true." One spirit protested. "It's…not?" Marionette asked, fearful of whatever retribution lay ahead for this incorrect detail. "We know who it is." Another specter stated firm.

"Who?"

"The Purple Guy."

Author's Note

This took me a million years to get out, I know, and I'm sorry. Writer's block, real life and a lot more nonsense behind the scenes has been kicking me over the head when it comes to trying to write. Anyway, as you can see, stuff is shaping up quite a lot, and there's a little surprise I have hidden in the chapter titles. As more get published, you'll see what I mean. For now, take it as you will. Though, I do wonder, what do these ghosts have against Jason?