And here we have what will probably be my next big project for the following few months. We all know The Return to Freddy's, right? The Sonichu of the Fnaf fandom. Notoriously batshit insane (pardon my language), with limited regard for logic, common sense or decent writing. In spite of all of that, something about the series has always fascinated me, it's this weird, terrible fangame universe that has its own charm in an odd way. Maybe that's the autism speaking. Regardless, what is this project about, exactly? Well, it's essentially a remake of the laughably inane 'novel' for the series, TRTF: The Dreadful Truth. It's an absolute rollercoaster, I'll tell you that much. What this story aims to do is adapt the basic premise of The Dreadful Truth, while hopefully giving it more fleshed out characters, slow-burn storytelling and slightly less complete insanity (I regret to inform you all that 'super cancer' is not going to be returning as a plot device.) Those of you familiar with the original may already see that this is a very loose remake so far, and that will probably continue; this is less of a direct remake of The Dreadful Truth and more so a reimagining, turning its cast and many plot elements into something a little less... psychotically stupid.

That being said, please sit back, relax and enjoy our first, relatively short chapter of The Return to Freddy's: Declassified Truths.

For Alison Ward, life was just one big fight.

He fought the neighbourhood kids, growing up in Brooklyn. He fought against union bosses and pompous security guards as a teen down by the docks. Now, he was fighting the Japanese on a tiny little island in the Pacific Ocean. It was beginning to seem like that was what his life was made for. One massive punch-up with no ending until someone took his own lights out.

"Ali. You good?"

The voice shook him from his trance, glancing up from his scratched, dim rifle, boots settling in the mud amidst the shredded grass. Standing above him, the lanky frame of Neil was more than evident, cigarette held out to him.

"Hm?" Adjusting the rim of his helmet, Alison reached for the cigarette. "Sure. I'm good. Any luck further front?"

"Unlikely." Neil sighed as he leaned on the side of the dugout. Even if they had taken the line from the Japanese defences two days prior, they couldn't get the stench of death away from it. "Tojos are rooted in deep. Fighting for this like their lives depend on it."

"Yeah, that's the Japs for you." Alison noted with a half-hearted nod, taking a long, deep drag from the cigarette that filled his lungs with a thick tar. He saw no reason not to indulge. Smoking was hardly the most immediate threat to his life given the situation. "All that honour and pride bullshit. Makes our jobs a helluva lot harder."

"Go figure." Neil scoffed. "I was hoping we'd get a dig at Mister Hitler, you know. That's why I signed up. Instead, here we are, dealing with his goons from the land of the rising sun. Lucky us."

"Lucky us indeed." Squeezing the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, Alison watched the tobacco drift out, scattering with the breeze. "Still, we do what we gotta."

"For sure, man, for sure." Neil nodded away. "You reckon you made the right choice, coming out here? Fightin' for team USA?"

"Given that the other choice was jail..." Alison responded sharply, pulling himself up to his feet, doing his best to ignore the splitting aches in each and every muscle as he adjusted his suspenders. "I'd say I made the right one, yeah."

"Right, right." The taller man pointed lazily to Alison with one hesitant finger. "You told me that before. What was it you did again?"

"Ran with some guys back home in Brooklyn." He explained simply. "Not the nicest bunch. Don't take much pride in it. Got caught selling ration stamps, choice was eight years or military service. God bless Tojo for getting me out of that mess."

"Ah, I see. Guess you win, though." Neil pointed out. "Sun, fun, an all expenses paid vacation, what isn't there to love?"

"A shocking lack of Japanese girls." Alison retorted with a sly grunt as he kicked a plume of dust in the direction of a half-decomposing corpse. "Heard they were cute. Wouldn't mind seeing a couple of them around here."

Neil held back his laughter. "Japanese girls in a war zone. I'm guessing you'd want them to have their underpants around their ankles, too?"

"It would be nice." Alison shrugged. "Don't you think?"

"True that, true that." Neil cast his head up to the filthy ceiling of the dugout, his mind clouding with memories of the past. "You know, back in California, there was this one girl. Went to high school with her. She was smoking, and I mean smoking. So we're sitting in class, this is seventy degree weather. The girl, she has this white blouse on…"

"I can see where this is heading." Alison rolled his eyes. "No brassiere, right?"

"Not a lick of one in sight." Neil let out a dry cackle at the long-gone recollections. "To be a fly on the wall when she went home. Bet you her mom was fuming."

"Yeah." Alison muttered. "I bet." There was a divide; there always would be. He got on well enough with Neil, but their differences couldn't be denied. One was educated, had idyllic memories of typical high school whirlwinds and shenanigans. The other was Alison. Two totally different worlds. It was hard to imagine Neil even holding a gun, let alone using it. For Alison, it had practically become second nature. All the guys back home carried pistols, half of them were veterans from the last war. The apparent "War to End All Wars." Look how that turned out.

"Ali?" Neil snapped his fingers. "You're drifting out again."

"Ah. Right, sorry." Alison muttered as he set down on reality once more. "Just… Thinking about stuff."

"Got it." Thankfully, Neil didn't pry; that could be appreciated in a man. He knew his boundaries. "So, when do you reckon we're gonna make our move."

Alison could only shrug. "Whenever the order comes through, I guess. We're definitely gaining ground here. It's all a matter of how much longer Tojo's forces can hold out."

"Say what you want about the yellow bastards, they're tenacious." Neil pondered. "It's like they aren't quite human."

"They're definitely good at this." Alison agreed, leaning stooped over in the doorway. "You'd swear they knew something we didn't, the way they cling on 'till they're dead. No surrender. All that crap." He stepped away from the doorway as another of their colleagues appeared in it.

"Ward? Graham?" He asked as he caught sight of them, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Captain's rounding the boys up. Says he's got something to tell us."

"He has, now?" Alison and Neil exchanged looks as they prepared to leave the dugout and return to camp.

"Yep." The other soldier answered. "Seems to me like something big's going on. He seems excited."