Sleep and Dream
Otherwise…
Even in death, he couldn't escape it. Each time he saw his time coming to an end, he knew deep in his heart that it was simply the beginning.
For the first few times, he had been sure of himself that it was all just a dream. Because no matter how it would end, he'd always at some point opened his eyes and found himself back in his own bed. Besides that, how could any of this be real? Inside this impossible house, faced with monstrous forms of things that would portray themselves as his friends?
But it had been at some point, he had finally accepted that it was anything but a dream. How could it, when he would awaken feeling like he hadn't slept? Plagued with the memories that felt too real?
Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, he knew that he had to concentrate. The walls were closing in on him, with no escape in sight. If he didn't act quickly, doing what needed to be done, it would be the difference between a hollow victory and having to feel himself die again.
More often, the latter would beat him to it.
As he went over to the door and shined his flashlight down, he saw the movement of the figure duck away from sight. This one had been different, not like the rabbit which had killed him the last time he had failed. He could feel his heart flutter inside of his chest as he knew he hadn't seen this one before.
Those ears, that glint of metal…it could only have been the fox.
When he heard the movement behind him, he spun around to look at the bed. There was nothing there, but the sound of something crawling under the bed told him it was anything but his imagination. For a moment he considered looking under the bed, in the end deciding against it when he heard the stomping down the hall.
Running to the door, he heard the breathing and slammed it shut. When he heard the scratching, as if someone was scraping a blackboard, he tried to push back the terror inside his chest before continuing. Even when exhaustion set in, he knew that he had to push back against it. There was no hiding place in this room, no sanctuary. He could either fight, or he would die.
As the seconds turned to minutes, he found himself running back and forth in that small bedroom, listening at the doors before shutting them when he knew he was in danger. But as he continued to do so, he could still hear those noises. Feeling his heart thudding in his chest, with his eyes switching from place to place, he could feel that something was wrong.
There was a scraping sound again, one like he'd heard outside the room. It was when he was running to the right door and closed it that he realised what it was. A shadow was drifting onto the bedroom floor, coming from his right. Almost becoming larger by the moment. Descending on what little light remained in the room.
Then that arm, battered red plastic clinging onto rusted metal, reached out into the room, exposing the deep marks on the closet door where it had been scraping. When he saw that hook come out with it, he knew he had to act.
By instinct, he ran. Not away, but towards the closet door, flashing the light into the closet over and over again. He heard a screech, but before the thing could act, he grabbed the closet door with his other hand and slammed it shut. His finger ached from how many times he had pressed that on and off button.
When he felt brave enough to check, he opened the door again and flashed the light. All that remained in there was a plushie doll of a red fox, adjoined with an eyepatch and hook. Breathing in slowly, he backed away, knowing he was safe for the moment.
It had been the hook, scraping against the wood. It had not been the first time he'd seen the fox, and he doubted it to be the last. As he tried to calm himself, he heard something behind him. A chittering laughter, almost a giggle, and not just one. Startled, he looked behind him and saw them for just a moment.
Three laughing monsters. They were the size of plushies, chattering teeth and soulless eyes. As he shined the light onto them, they fled within moments, disappearing back under the bed. He feared the idea of looking under it, knowing to do so would be a mistake.
He chose to continue what he had been doing, running back and forth between doors and praying for salvation.
Knowing the whole time it to be a fruitless endeavour.
As the hours ticked away, he grew slower. Those bears distracting him over and over. The fox coming back inside of that closet. Hearing the breathing come closer and closer as those walls continued to surround him.
He was doomed from the start. Then, he made a mistake.
As he ran to flash his light, his sweaty hands lost their grip on it. Panicking, he went to grab it, and closed the door. But it was too late; he saw the flash of something appear in the darkness. Yelling out, he tried to run, but the horrifying cupcake snapped out from the shadows and hooked his shoulder, making him cry out.
It lifted him, right into the grasp of the chicken, its one good idea appraising him. Then, it opened hits jaws and exposed its gullet.
Holding his arms by his sides, it held him over its exposed mouth and lowered him. All he could do was scream as it ate him. Surrounded by bone and metal, his own screams becoming muffled around him as he couldn't see and he could feel his breath start to leave his—
Tuesday 9th June 2015, 23:55 PM
—lunges as he shot up awake, and he had to put his hand against his chest, feeling the pain of it trying to claw its way out. For several moments, Mike could barely see around him and he was sure that he was in danger, but when he looked around, he could see that he was safe.
Shaking where he was sitting, Mike climbed his feet and saw that he'd fallen asleep on the porch. As he looked up towards the night sky, the moon glinted bright back at him, barely a waning crescent. He stepped forward, using the porch rail to balance himself and took deep breaths.
He hadn't been expecting to have two in one night. That was rare. His hand reached for his head and wiped the cold sweat that was starting to drip into his eyes. It was a common cycle he had to get used to, waking up scared and spending the rest of his time awake dreading the moment again. It was tearing him up inside, with no escape in sight.
Holding his hands to his face, Mike sighed in them before mustering the last of his strength.
Mike walked back into the house, using his flashlight to navigate around the room. Every part of him wanted to switch the lights on and it took that strength to resist the urge. He knew it would be unwise to do so. He looked around the house's hallways first, out of paranoia. He was home alone, after all.
But, as he pondered on the idea, it meant he had a rare opportunity. The last thing he needed at that moment was to fall asleep again and he doubted he would do so for the rest of the night. With the others, there were things that he had refrained from doing, fearing suspicion.
With them all out of the way, maybe he was better off having a look?
Mike stood in that spot for some time, debating the idea to himself. On the one hand, he was worried he'd dig up something he would rather leave buried. On the other, what did he have to lose by having a look? After everything he'd risked at Fazbear Frights, running through hallways and ducking a killer robot, what horrors could this house hold that he hadn't dealt with ten-fold over the last decade?
He knew the answer. Readying himself, Mike headed upstairs, taking careful steps on the creaking wooden platforms. Once he'd reached the top, he could see the wooden door at the end of the hallway shut. He walked towards it and reached for the door handle, but stopped before he turned it.
A childlike fear filled his body as he stood there, but he shook it away and pushed forward. The door opened, a rusty squeak in protest, and he looked inside. They had been in here before, of course; when they'd first searched the house. At the same time, there were going to be things that they'd missed.
It was empty inside what once would've been the master bedroom, with only the built-in closet showcasing a sign of its identity. Mike went over to the closet and shined his flashlight around it. There were some cobwebs inside, and it smelled like something had been living in there. Looking around in it, Mike saw the spot at the back and crouched down.
There was a small, sawed line on one of the wooden planks in the closet, barely noticeable. Mike pried at the plank and was able to loosen it up, before pulling it out. A large spew of dust left the hole it exposed, making Mike cough.
He shined the flashlight again and could see the cubby hole it exposed. It wasn't empty. With a scowl, Mike placed the plank back where it had been and walked away, like he'd never exposed it.
Instead, he walked back downstairs. They had mostly chosen to sleep in the main room, once the living room, together. More out of safety then anything. In spite of the condensed layout and small upstairs, the rest of the house was surprisingly large. Combine that with the basement, which was bare, there was a lot of room.
Mike's mind fumbled on numbly as he walked towards the back of the house, into one of the old bedrooms. This one too had a built-in closet, this one towards the back right. For a moment, he wanted to continue walking, but he knew he had to stomach this. With a tentative step, Mike entered the room and shined his flashlight around.
He sighed as he looked around, seeing nothing on any discernible quality inside it. The carpet had been ripped off in areas and the glass in the window was long smashed. It wasn't a massive room, square shaped and fairly basic.
Just as he was about to leave, he remembered the closet and turned towards it. Biting his lip, his legs slowed down as he got closer and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. There was only one door remaining on the closet, so he reached his spare hand towards it and pulled it open. It was empty, though signs of a clothing rail that had been ripped out remained on the walls.
Then he looked down onto the ground and saw it. A million knives pierced his heart as he did so. He had to stop himself from biting so hard as he tasted blood. Crouching down, he grabbed the thing inside and stepped back out, shining his light over it.
It was a toy, a purple robot about the size of his forearm. The paint on it had peeled away in areas and one of its eyes were missing. Mike could feel the tears threatening to break out, so he put the broken robot back where he found it. Without a moment of hesitation, he turned and walked back out, regretting his decision.
Wednesday 10th June 2015, 00:07 AM
Samantha and Carl hadn't said much after their conversation, still sitting in the car and waiting for anything more to come from the meeting. As normal, Carl hadn't betrayed his thoughts so easily, leaving her to question how he'd taken her suspicions. Whether he disagreed with what she said, or perhaps was considering it himself.
Maybe, he'd been thinking the same thing and was now considering it.
Even if it was just paranoia, she had seen not just her husband, but his colleagues discover great secrets with less to go on. They had witnessed great impossibilities over the last decade. So how farfetched was it really that Mike Schmidt, their old friend, was not who he said he was? That he'd been hiding something from all of them?
Hearing the small ding from Carl's phone, Sam turned her head and saw him flick it on. He paused for a moment as he read it before lowering it, staring back at the warehouse.
She felt a pang of worry from that. "What's wrong?"
"Jack just sent me a message. Their meeting has gone well, apparently. But the contact wants to meet us, face to face."
She digested that and leaned back in her chair. "So either we just found a way in, or…"
"We could be walking into the same trap Jack and Ella just fell in." Carl agreed, his eyes never leaving those doors of the warehouse. Taking his pistol out again, Carl loaded a magazine into it before he holstered it.
"So there's two possibilities, here." Sam spoke, more to herself than anything since she knew Carl had already considered it, "That was Jack who sent that text, or it was not. If it was Jack, I'm still not convinced it's in our best interest to walk in there so blindly. If it's not, then we've got a major issue."
Carl gave a sigh and nodded. "There's a chance they've been killed, or taken captive. Either way, that means I've got to go in there and fix this. But if this is sincere…we could blow up any good will we have with these guys by botching this meeting."
"It's your call." Samantha assured him, knowing it was unfair to put this sort of decision in his hands. Even if she knew that he was the most qualified person to make such a decision.
She watched as Carl tried to ring Jack's number, but it was left unanswered. With a grumble, Carl seemed to ready himself as he checked his gun again and left the car. Sam joined him and stepped out, knowing in her heart that there was no way she was letting him go in there alone.
Then, as they began to walk towards the warehouse, another ding stopped Carl in his tracks. They exchanged a look before Carl looked at his phone again. He spent some time examining the message before he raised an eyebrow. "Huh. I wasn't expecting that."
"What? What did he say?"
"He said it's safe, that this isn't Tokyo. He said that specifically."
Blinking, Samantha was almost impressed. "How on Earth…? He's using our codewords, now?"
"I told them it. Remember? Back in the forest? He must've recalled it."
They both looked back at the warehouse, at the young man standing by the doors with a radio in hand.
"It could still be a trap." Samantha pointed out, though she didn't feel it.
"I know." Carl admitted, "But my doubts just shrunk. I don't think Jack would lead us into one, not after everything we've been through."
Folding her hands, Samantha considered their chances. Suddenly, doubts about this whole operation started to sink in as she realised what a risk they had taken by coming here. Was it really worth trying to find more information just so that they could get bushwhacked by some gang? Risking their lives for it?
We're already on that road, though, Samantha reminded herself, so there's no point of what ifs when two of our own people are in the firing line.
Either way, they were walking into that warehouse.
"My gut is telling me it's not an ambush." Samantha told Carl, "But maybe keep your gun ready, in case?"
Carl snorted. "Of course."
Though vigilance still flowed through their bodies and their eyes kept darting around for any sign of movement, the two of them continued walking towards the warehouse. The man by the door seemed to be slightly on edge, though Sam told herself that he'd been watching two strangers waiting in a car and then on the middle of the road for a good couple minutes.
These days, who wouldn't be paranoid?
"Keep an eye out." Samantha said to Carl under he breath, "Just in case we're wrong about this."
Once they reached the warehouse, the young man nodded to them, though his eyes kept darting to Carl's hand, watching for movement. "Hey, you guys are Jack's friends?"
"We are." Carl confirmed, "And I will say that I am armed, before you ask. No, I will not be disarming myself. If that is a problem, then we will graciously part ways once our colleagues walk out of these doors."
The man paused for a moment before asking into the radio, "Uh, boss, guy says he's armed and won't be handing it over. That cool?"
The reply came quickly. "Well, the right to bare arms, boy. As long as he doesn't have an itchy trigger finger, I think we'll be good."
"Got it." The man shrugged, "You guys are good, but don't go shooting people, alright?"
Carl shot him a smile and pounded his shoulder as they walked past him. Once they entered, Sam saw that the same man who had led Jack and Ella was waiting for them. He nodded to them and gestured for them to follow. Sam and Carl exchanged a glance that told them the same thing.
Act the moment they do something we don't like.
As they entered the next room, Sam immediately saw the numerous workers and guards around them. They had stepped into what once may have been a warehouse, but the scaffolding had been taken away, replaced with massive round tankers filled with some sort of liquid.
The workers, dressed in makeshift hazmat suits, were dipping paper into the liquid. This wasn't something that took her long to understand; Jack had implied that they were involved in money laundering. It seemed that it ran just a little bit deeper than basic fraud and false paper trails for other criminals.
She shot a glance towards Carl, who seemed to be thinking the same think. This isn't any of our business.
Towards the back area was a staircase leading to what seemed to be a manager's office. They walked up the stairs and were stopped outside the door by their guide, who appraised them before speaking. "Now, I doubt this needs to be said, but I wouldn't recommend trying anything in there."
"Of course." Carl responded evenly, "We'll be out of your life in no time."
"From what I've heard in there, I doubt it." He opened the door and allowed them to pass.
When she saw Jack and Ella sitting on the couch facing towards them, she felt relief flow through her body. Jack flashed them a small smile. "Ah, there you are. I would've phoned you, but they don't like calls in the building. Safety measures."
"I can understand that." Sam looked to the right, where the man the two of them had been talking to was making himself a coffee. He was big, perhaps six foot two, and had tattoos lined on his muscled limbs. Looking towards them, he raised an eyebrow.
"So, you are Jack's friends. He speaks highly of you."
"Likely embellished." Carl inclined his head.
"I assume, then, that you are Carl, and this must be Sam? Samantha?"
"You would be correct. And you are?"
"Quantum."
Samantha paused for a moment, to gauge his meaning. When she saw he wasn't joking around, she accepted it. From the stories she had heard over the last couple decades, there were far more stupid names criminals would go by. "Has Jack explained to you why were are here?"
"Of course." Quantum smirked, "Information."
"I've worked with Quantum in the past." Jack explained, "My ability to crack into the biggest stonewalls a company could put up was far less impressive than it sounds. Sometimes, it required more physical and boots on the ground than I was comfortable with. Times have changed, of course, but back then, hacking wasn't taken as seriously as it is now."
With a shrug, Quantum leaned against the wall closest to him, "So when push came to shove, Jack and other freelancers would come to people like me to dig up those secrets they couldn't get to. Now, wasn't always information; sometimes it was a cover story, a new identity, or access. It seems that you are needing none of that, which makes things easier for you."
Listening to his tone, Sam could read what he was getting too, knowing that Carl could to. "And what's it going to take to get this information?"
Quantum walked away from the coffee machine and sat down on the sofa opposite of Jack and Ella, "As I'm sure you can understand, I can't give this information away for free. It takes manpower and resources and while I am perfectly happy with screwing over a company like Fazbear Entertainment, it's an awfully big risk for very little gain for my own people."
"So what is it going to take?" Sam inquired neutrally, "I'm guessing it's not money. You look like you have enough of that on your hands."
That made Quantum laugh, "Ah, an observant one! That's good. Yeah, we run most of the money laundering from here to Mexico. We make sure to avoid any heat and everyone makes a good buck. No one gets hurt, as long as everyone does their job right. It's finding the manpower that's the problem; too many incompetent, stupid wannabees around these days."
"So, here's the deal: Quid pro quo. Nothing is free anymore, you know? You do something for me, and I will do something for you. I give you a few errands to run—nothing with any heat I don't think you can handle—and I'll give you what you want. Any questions?"
For a few moments, Sam and Carl looked at each other and their two allies. A part of Sam knew this was going to happen. "These jobs, what are they going to be? We're not hired killers. We're not going to start knocking doors down and beating people for what little they have left."
Quantum acknowledged that with a shrug, "We tend to avoid spilling blood around here; it's bad for business. Last thing we need is city cops coming and putting a hole in our whole operation. We rely on the local population as our cover and the last thing I'd like is to jeopardize that."
For the first time that night, Sam had a feeling that she and Carl were not on the same wavelength. "Are we able to leave, think about it, and get back to you?"
She ignored the sideeye Carl shot her as Quantum shrugged again, "Sure. Though this never happened, obviously. I would not recommend sharing this with anyone, or…well, like I said, you two seem smart."
As they left the room accompanied by the guard, Sam got close to Jack. "So, did that go well?"
"Better than some of the meetings I've had." Jack snorted, "Besides, me and Quantum go way back. If it wasn't for me, he'd have been six feet under or tried by twelve years ago."
Once they had reached their car, Sam noted that Carl was silent. She had a feeling he was going to disagree with her on this. That was a bridge she'd have to cross soon.
Wednesday 10th June 2015, 00:27 AM
He could see the movement through the treeline from the porch. Knowing that he couldn't be seen any easier that they could, Mike relaxed himself and quietly took cover. If there was a chance that they were not his friends returning, the worst thing he could do was allow them to get the drop on him.
His fears were alleviated when he heard the five-tone whistle from the darkness. Stepping out from his cover, Mike flash the light onto the ground and saw the faces of his allies as they made their way to the house.
Trying his best not to look as shaken as he had been the last couple of hours, Mike nodded to them. "How'd it go?"
"Not as bad as it could have gone." Ella replied, Jack giving an affirmative nod as Sam and Carl went past him into the house. "Everything okay here?"
"Yep."
Even with Jack's good mood, it was obvious that neither he nor Ella believed him. The two exchanged a glance as Jack went inside, leaving Ella. "You sure?"
"I'm fine…well, you know. Things are getting to me around here."
"You need to talk?"
"Nah, I appreciate it, but it's fine. What was said over there?"
It was clear to him that it was a matter of debate. "Honestly, my worry has been what conversation those two are going to have in there. I could feel the tension."
"That bad, huh?"
"We might have to do some work for money launderers." Ella smiled, "It's not a great prospective."
Heading inside, Mike and Ella saw the looks on Sam and Carl's faces over at the opposite end of the room. He had a feeling she was right on the money.
"Just so we're all up to speed," Carl explained, "Jack's contact has agreed to provide us with information if we work for him. This work, if my assumptions are correct, will likely include transporting his illegally obtained paper notes and God knows what. That's the more optimistic outlook."
"What it might also include, from my own experiences with people like him, either comes with a lot of risk, or a lot of compromise. He's not going to have us kill people, but he might be lying. Personally, I don't like him, nor do I trust him. He was practically a salesman selling a product. I'm against it."
Taking that all in, Mike could see the looks on the others' faces as they absorbed that. "Okay." He spoke evenly, "What is everyone else's opinion?"
"I know Quantum." Jack pointed out, "I know how he works. Even if he does start pushing our boundaries, it won't be for a while. Not until he trusts us enough for the heavy tasks. Why not use him for our benefit first?"
"And it's not like we've worked with criminals before." Ella mumbled, "I'm sure you AESIR lot have, too."
Carl didn't seem to have an argument for that.
"It's not just that." Sam frowned, "Jack has provided us, at a risk, a possible asset who seems open to working with us. It would a waste of our time to throw that out."
Even though he knew his own motives were a conflict of interest, Mike looked past that and still came to the same answer. "I'm afraid I'm on the same mind as Carl. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against mixing it up with criminals, but is right now really a good idea? It seems like a lot of risk for a reward we won't know about until we help him."
"My point exactly." Carl agreed, "There's a reason why the Crucible only ever worked with certified contacts and informants. Even then, there was always a chance we'd get stabbed in the back. Remember Hubert Quinn? They thought what they had on him was enough, but he almost killed Tom and Mike the moment is suited to him. If Quantum believes us to be a risk, he'll silence us at a drop of a hat."
Jack sighed, "With all due respect, the two of you, I've worked with Quantum in the past. Five years, we helped each other out. He never provided me with bad information and if it wasn't convenient, he'd refund it and offer me something better when he could."
"All he seems to be running is a money laundering operation." With her arms crossed, Ella seemed surprisingly resolute about her stance, "I reckon the worst we'd have to do is transport the goods somewhere secure."
"it's not the job that worries me." Mike mused, "It's the product and how hot it is. Getting caught with our pants down trafficking drugs or worse is the risk we are taking."
Carl nodded, "I know I've pushed the boundaries more times than I can count over the decades, but how far away are we from becoming the criminals we've been locking up? We've got some morals."
"Which means diddly-squat out here." Sam butted in, gritting her teeth, "Carl, we're out in the middle of nowhere! We've got lawmen in three states looking for us! We've been running through mountains and deserts! We've got an assassin's guild hunting us! Playing by some sort of code of ethics is not helping us!"
Carl stared at her. "Neither is going down this road. We go a step too far, I'll have to report it when our boys find us, Sam. Then they'll have every right to kick us out or even give us up. Let's not do anything we're all going to regret."
"That time has passed, Carl." Sam rebutted, though she seemed to be more sad about it than anything, "It passed three months ago. I'm not saying we go around hurting innocent people. But until AESIR tracks us down, we're staying and getting this done. We didn't come all this way just to abandon the best opportunity handed to us. Any objections?"
When none were given, she nodded. "Then let's do this."
With that, Act 2 is all said and done. Seven chapters remain and I'm hoping to get them all out by the end of February. Depending on things, that might mean another double upload here and there.
TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Honestly, my biggest issue so far with this one is that I have no idea if we've covered too much ground or not nearly enough. Sam and Carl's friendship goes back a long time, but you can see the cracks starting to show here. This investigation, along with the unresolved grief both of them share, is causing that rift that may lead to further problems. It all comes down to whether working with Jack's contact will be beneficial or ultimately their undoing. When you combine that with Mike's deteriorating mental state, the whole thing is close to collapsing on top of them. The nightmare sequences took some thought, mostly because of how abstract they were even now, more so then, and it's clear that they're tied to Mike in some way.