Chasing a Monster

Thursday 23rd July 2015, 12:29 PM

They arrived early, ten minutes before the meeting was to take place. Every week, for the last three weeks, they would go to the small park to the side of the city hall, where the occasional pensioners or dog walker would pass by unassuming of the strangers sat at the bench. The early afternoon sun shined down on the grass and the pavement, making Sam thankful that she had taken the sun hat she had bought from the gift shop a few weeks before.

To her right sat Carl, reading a newspaper but keeping an eye out. Always vigilant, that man. Samantha supposed that she understood the slight restlessness in her companion.

She flipped through the notebook again and read through what they had done, as well as what they had received from their services. That information had been up to par, more so than she had honestly been expecting. Entire new leads had opened up to them, leads that they could pursue once the threat of the Nightingales was no longer hanging over their head like a guillotine.

Every week, the man unfortunately named Quantum would reward them for their work and would give them a list of what was to come; such work was meant to last them the week and yet, they had two days to spare. Of course, not that it mattered anymore. Once had arrived with their payment, it would be time to sever their partnership.

Even if it was the last thing that Samantha wanted to do.

Taking out the case notes again, Sam mumbled something under her breath as she went through the new entries. A few archived police reports here, a couple of dossiers there. There was a few people Sam would be interested in talking to from these, one being the adult daughter of the late Fredbear's co-owner Henry. There were a few possible locations, but many of them were old. She had relatives and friends, though even they were tricky to pin down.

Without a doubt, however, the one that had been the most interesting to Sam had been the files on William Afton. Though much of it had simply confirmed the parts that Tom had discovered over the years, it was still a good feeling to have undeniably justified many of those theories. They had caught Afton, practically had him dead to rights, yet the lack of a body had been their downfall.

That thought made her bitter; for so long, it was clear that her husband had believed the killer had gotten away and Fazbear Entertainment had covered their tracks to avoid the infamy destroying them once and for all.

Instead, the line seemed fairly clear now. It had been one of the higher ups, one of the men in charge of the company itself, who had done the deed. What was the chance that Afton had used his influence to cover up his deeds, at his company's expense?

More so, was he possibly involved in covering up the night guard deaths, too? Up until he would meet his own end in the murder machine he and Henry had made?

She shook her head as she remembered that photograph. Henry and William. They had seemed close, almost like brothers. Had Henry been oblivious to who his old pal Bill really was, or had he known deep down, ignoring it? Not expecting that it would be the reason for his child's abduction? After all, even if she couldn't prove it, who else could it have been?

Whatever the reason, Sam knew she couldn't ever know, with both men dead. What she hoped to answer, however, was the circumstances of the incident they had discovered in Fredbear's. She had all the details, or as much as she'd been told was around. The incident had been covered up to a great extent, to the point that she couldn't even know the name of the boy.

That was what it all came down to, however much it broke her heart. When she read through the reportings, she almost pictured Zack in the place of that poor boy. It had become a dark obsession, a pain that wouldn't heal, that was causing a scratch she just couldn't ignore. For all this time, it had seemed that the Missing Children's Incident had been the beginning of this sordid nightmare.

Yet it seemed that the true origins of that nightmare started right here, in New Harmony. Not the evil machinations of a man with dead grey eyes, but a tale of a seven year old boy who had been literally bullied to death.

Somehow, she could feel that the true story of that little boy could be the key that would finally unlock this puzzle box.

"You're brooding." Carl suddenly broke the silence and Sam was snapped back to reality. Glancing up from his newspaper, Carl peered at her with sharp eyes, "You always have that look on your face when you're brooding. Like you're standing in line at a Starbucks."

"Just thinking about case work." She explained evenly.

"Which part? Fredbear's, or Freddy's? Afton? Henry? The victims?"

"Option F, I'm afraid." She responded and shrugged at Carl's confused blink, "All of the above."

Carl almost snorted, "I would be impressed, if I wasn't so worried. You've been thinking about that stuff all morning. Just take a few minutes to relax. At least until the meeting."

"Would you?" Sam raised an eyebrow, "I've seen you watching for any odd person walking by."

Carl didn't respond to that.

"I doubt the Nightingales are going to go after us in broad daylight."

"They don't need to go after us yet." Carl reasoned, "If they spot us, it's game over. I told you, I think we should get our guys together and leave New Harmony within the next hour."

"We will." Sam assured, "As soon as we meet with Quantum."

"And if he decides we're a loose end, first?"

Before Samantha could answer that, they both heard the rumble of a car's engine and looked towards the street. A grey sedan slowly pulled up to the parking lot adjacent to the town hall and three men got out. As they approached, Sam turned to look back at Carl for a moment. "Then we deal with it."

The three men entered the park and two stayed behind, watching for any nosey onlookers as Quantum walked over to them, raising his hands in a welcoming gesture. "Early today, are we?"

"Didn't have much to do." Samantha explained with a shrug, "And when have we ever been late?"

"That is true!" Quantum lowly laughed as he joined them at the table, sitting down across from them and relaxing with a small smile. He was wearing a bright white tank top today, his muscled arms brimming from the open sleeve holes. "Had I just another three of you lot, I would've gotten this operation all sorted years ago. I'd offer you a employee of the month award, but we don't do those sort of things. Leaves a paper roll, y'know."

"I think we'll just settle for the information, if that's alright with you." Samantha said evenly.

"Of course, of course." Quantum raised his hand and gestured towards one of his guards, who lumbered over to them holding a strap bag. The man bundled the bag onto the park table before returning to his position.

With tentative hands, Sam reached for the bag and opened it, finding a small amount of cash bundles inside as well as stacks of paper. Taking the notes out of the bag, Sam began to read the top couple, scanning through the lines as quickly as she could.

"This one's a good one." Quantum leaned back with a smirk, "I didn't have a chance to look over everything myself, but turns out that ol' Bill Afton had quite the slew of business expenses. Truth is, I reckon that if they'd nailed him with all this back then, the kidnappings would've been a drop in a bucket. I know fraud when I see it."

"Can't say for sure if it was fraud." Sam cleared her throat, "It's entirely possible that he was getting the funds from Fazbear Entertainment directly. Still…this is useful. Thank you."

"Hey, you did the job clean, and that's all I ask for. Now then…" Leaning forward, Quantum rested his hands on the table, "Time to talk about your next assignment."

Having been silent as he'd been the last few conversations, Carl spoke up to their surprise. "I'm afraid it's different this time, Quantum. We won't be taking any more jobs. In fact, by tomorrow morning, we will no longer be in New Harmony."

If Quantum was upset by this, he didn't show it. "Well, that's a shame. Especially with the recent lead I got."

Sam and Carl exchanged a look and she could see exactly what he was thinking. Don't even think about it.

"I'm afraid that my companion is correct." Sam explained, "If you want to know the truth, we might've been burnt. It's best for both parties that we part, for our safety and for your security."

Perhaps she had been expecting Quantum to argue, yet he just shrugged. "Well, if you're sure. What time will you be leaving, if I may be so bold?"

"By dawn." She immediately said, choosing the lie; the reality was that they would be moving before midnight.

"Then that actually works out, because I need this job doing by the end of tonight. If you could get it done, I would reward you before you leave." When Carl began to raise his protests, Quantum raised a hand and he quietened. "Hear me out, before you make a decision. If you wish not to, then we part as friends."

"The information I may have a hold on has these business expenses of Mr. Afton down to the wire. Every little thing he owned, from property to real estate. Things even Fazbear Entertainment don't have in their records. I'll have my guys make it a priority, get it all for you."

As she said the words, Sam could feel Carl's eyes burning into her head. "And what's the job?"

"Ah yes, the job…a tricky one, this time. I had a…former acquaintance who had worked with me extensively in the past. To my disgrace, it seemed that he had formed a operation behind my back involving human trafficking and…other aspects I have no desire in. Had he not been a former friend, I would have killed him then and there. Instead, I seized his funding and cut him out."

"And where does that lead us to this conversation?" Carl scowled.

"Because he has decided to be stupid." Quantum snarled, "Perhaps he was worried I would go after him. My sources have confirmed that he has been in contact with the authorities, trying to sell me out. He has disrespected and compromised me and all I work for. He deserves—neigh, needs—to die."

Before Sam could so much as tilt her head, Carl spoke.

"We're done here." He stood up and began to walk away.

"Are you sure, Mr. Young?" Quantum said still looking at Samantha, "I offer you gold in return for pest extermination."

"We are not hired killers." Carl almost hissed.

"I am not asking you to slaughter innocents. This man has done worse, usually to those very same innocents. Are you sure you want someone like that on the street?"

Breathing in, Sam knew what her response needed to be. "I'm sorry, Quantum. I wish you the best in your future, but we cannot be a part of this."

Quantum peered into her eyes and she knew he could tell her true feelings on the matter. "Well, I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but it is what it is. If you happen to change your mind before you leave, simply offer me a call and an arrangement."

Thursday 23rd July 2015, 12:38 PM

Seething in pain as he took another bad step which sent a surge up his leg, Mike could see the house. Though it had started to wear off, he could still feel the bruises that had begun to form after his fall. A stupid mistake, one that he may have felt sorry for himself for were it not for the cuts on his body. He felt for the wounds again and his hand came back with fresh blood.

There was no way he could deny it any longer. Ever since those visions had come to torment him, there had always been the reasoning that they were little more than just that: Visions. Whatever had attacked him, hunted him, inside those woods were not simple daydreams, or tricks of the imagination.

Mike knew now that he was in far bigger danger than he could ever imagine.

As he arrived on the house's doorstep, he looked around for anyone else who was inside and saw that he was alone. Knowing that it was better not to have to explain himself, Mike went over to the bedrooms, when a burst of light stung his eyes and ears.

As his vision cleared up, he screamed in rage when he saw that he was inside the house again. Reaching for the flashlight, he moved to the first doorway and listened for what was on the other side. Hearing nothing, he shined the light down.

Perhaps he had been expecting a slink of movement at the end of the hallway. When he saw nothing as such, something tugged at his heartstrings. He wasn't safe, he was smart enough to know that. Which meant he was in deep trouble.

A deep, guttural laughter boomed against the walls and he could feel his very body shake at the reverb. He felt grim as he stepped away from the door and spun to the bed, shining his flashlight and expecting to see one of the Freddles there.

Instead, he felt his entire body seize up as his eyes fell onto the head that was staring back intently with crimson irises. Shark teeth lined the gums of the head, twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. A high-pitched shriek hurt his head and the lights darkened for a moment. When his vision cleared up, the head was gone and he was alone.

Backing away, he had to remind himself to keep moving as his body refused to move from the spot. He darted towards the left hallway and shined his light down it, almost screaming when he saw the thing just by the corner of the hallway before slamming it shut.

Even as he shut the door, the image of the beast had ingrained itself into his mind. It was taller, even as it crouched down. Its head, accompanied by a purple top hat, nearly touched the ceiling. Perhaps it was meant to be a bear, but this wasn't Freddy. The costume of the thing was yellow and the head was too large, too bulky to have been anything else other than a monster.

That deep laughter came back, but this time he could hear heavy footsteps heading away. Feeling in his gut what that meant, he turned and ran to the other doorway and shined his light down it. The monster was there again, closer than before, its reflection in the window nearby. Without a second to lose, he slammed the door again and held the handle tightly until he heard the sound of laughter, this time without any heavy footsteps.

He knew he wasn't safe. When he shined the light again and saw that the monster was gone, he only confirmed that. Turning away from the door with a automatic urge to move to the other door again, he paused. Something wasn't right. This monster, whose presence had taken away the others that had been after him, worked differently.

The last time it had laughed without walking away, it hadn't gone to the hallway.

Instead, he moved to the closet and came face to face with the head again, feeling its wet breath on his face. Without a second to lose, he shut the closet door felt that screech again before he squeezed his eyes shut. As he opened them, he looked inside the closet again and saw it was gone.

Time seemed to fade as he fought for his survival. On one hand, having to deal with only one monster was actually easier than dealing with four. On the other, this thing that he knew could be nobody other than Fredbear himself stalked him with far more effort than the others. Before, he'd been dealing with a wolf pack.

This time, he was being hunted by an apex predator.

When he checked the hallways, it was getting closer. There was something in the thing's stomach, a second mouth of gnarly teeth that smiled back at him. When he flashed his light again, he finally screamed when he saw the face of the thing inches away, one clawed hand reaching for him.

He was getting tired. It was a chess match, one where he was fighting purely to survive, to outlast his foe. One where a single mistake would be the end of this sadistic game.

Then, in his impatience to move from the doorway, he finally made that mistake.

When he heard the laugh again, he moved for the other doorway too quickly, only hearing the footsteps when he was halfway across the room. A burst of panic filled his chest as he turned, but it was too late. Before he could fix his mistake, the monster burst into the room.

He tried to run, yet the monster reached him before he could act. It grabbed him by the shoulders and raised him off his feet, begging for a reprieve. The monster screamed in his face and opened its jaw, before lunging at him and biting down on his—

He had fallen over, leaving a mark of blood on the wooden floor where his blistered knees had landed on it. Struggling to his feet, Mike clutched for the door frame and regained his balance before heading further into the room.

At last, he knew what he had to do. There was no avoiding it anymore. Almost two months of this, two months of secrets and pain that he refused to accept. No one else would ever understand. What was the point of staying here any longer, when all it would lead to was another wave of pain and misery?

He went straight for his sleeping bag, rolling it up calmly and back into the inversed bag. Grabbing his backpack, Mike collected his belongings, storing them quickly into it. In the bag, he still had some of his money left over; the last thing he wanted to do was take supplies from the others. Once he was out of town, he would have to find his own.

When he heard the squeak of the front door being opened, Mike softly cursed to himself, yet continued to pack. He'd been hoping to have nobody notice, but he needed to do this.

Continuing to pack, Mike felt the shadow on the doorway and didn't turn to look. When he heard her voice, he knew it was the worst possible scenario.

"Mike?" Samantha said from the doorway, watching him, "What are you doing?"

Breathing in slowly, Mike attached the sleeping bag to the bottom of his rucksack. "I'm leaving."

"I don't—"

"I'm leaving. I'm done. Do you hear me? I am done."

"Okay. If that's what you want to do, so be it." She seemed to hesitate, "But can we talk about what happened? Where this came from?"

"Does it matter?" Mike seethed, "I never wanted to be here in the first place."

"Yes, it does. Mike, I just need you to calm down. Did you see something? Did something happen to you? You look like you hurt yourself."

Slowing down for a moment, Mike tried to see where she was coming from. "Sam…I need to get out of here. I can't stay here any longer. I know you don't get why, and I know this place is important to you, but I can't do it anymore."

"Then tell me why." She pleaded, "Talk to me, Mike. Then I won't stop you."

Finding his hands slowing down as he scanned for anything else to pack away, Mike lowered his head and considered this. He shook his head, knowing it was a bad idea. There was no way she would ever believe him.

"There's something out there." He finally explained, his voice low and dull, "Something bad. It's been there since we arrived."

"What? What's out there? Why didn't you tell us this sooner?"

"Because I'm seeing the animatronics." Mike gritted his teeth, "They look like monsters. I'm having nightmares about them. I'm seeing them when I am awake, when I am alone."

When she didn't answer that, Mike almost laughed. "You don't believe me. Of course you don't believe me…"

"I didn't say that."

"I know what you're gonna say. Ghosts. Visions. Hallucinations. Well, maybe they are, maybe they aren't. But tell me this…" Finally standing up, shaking all the way, Mike turned to look at her and saw her expression turn grim when she saw his wounds.

"Does this look like it was done by a vision?" Mike asked her quietly as he pulled his slightly ripped shirt, revealing the three claw-like incisions on his chest, blood still trickling down steadily.

For a few moments, they stood there, staring at each other. Then, without a word, Samantha went over to her own sleeping bag and retrieve a medium-sized bag under her rucksack and opened it. She retrieved several items from it before gesturing towards the chair. "Sit."

His body acted before his mind did, stepping over to the wooden chair and sitting on it. After picking up all the items, Sam went over to him. With a closer look, Mike realised that the items were medical supplies: Gauze, bandages, and wipes. She first attended to his face, which Mike didn't even realise was injured.

As she cleaned a wound on his face, making him wince, Sam seemed scarily focused. "These things you've been seeing, where and when?"

"When I've been alone." Mike responded, feeling the adhesive of the band aid against his face as she stuck it on, "Usually out in the woods, but I've seen them inside the house when I've been outside."

Done with his face, Samantha stepped back. "Shirt off. Were they causing your panic attacks?"

With a painful twist in his body, Mike pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the floor, noticing the blood on it. "Yeah. Ever since that morning before we went to Fredbear's."

She continued in silence tending to the cuts on his chest, placing gauze and bandages on them after cleaning them. "Anything else? Any headaches, feeling of nausea? Unexpected tiredness, or memory loss, no matter how significant?"

"No." He could see where she was going with this. "Only chance I have a concussion was because I fell down that cliff, and that was after I saw those things."

Nodding, whether or not Sam agreed with that assessment was left unsaid. "You look like you're dehydrated. What have you had to drink today? The weather was fairly hot. And you're sweating quite a bit; you might have heatstroke. There may be some delirium…"

"I'm not insane." Mike retorted. "I know what I saw."

"I didn't say you were." Sam answered carefully, trying to be diplomatic, "I've been a medical expert for twenty years, Mike. I know these symptoms. You're experiencing hot flushes, your temperature and your pulse are far too high…they are not good signs."

"We're all in danger if we stay here." Mike pressed on, sure of himself, "This house, it's a death trap. All of us have to leave."

She was now moving onto the cuts on Mike's legs, which as he looked down made him aware how bad they were. Clearing her throat, Sam didn't seem willing to look at him. "We have been here for nearly two months, now. Why is all of this coming up now? If we're truly in danger of the house itself…then it's been awfully quiet."

Mike sighed irritably, "It's not the house, that's not what I'm saying. It can't be just me who's been seeing those things…or if it is…"

"If it is?"

"Maybe…maybe it has something to do with Fazbear Frights. I was seeing things back there, too. I thought it had something to do with the ventilation…but it was their spirits. Trying to communicate with me."

"Okay, then." Sam seemed subdued. On the other hand, something deep inside Mike told him she didn't believe him.

"You saw the reports." Mike pressed her as she stepped away, "Carl saw it all, too; back in 1994."

With some hesitation, Sam went over to the table and put her bag down. "Mike, I'm going by the facts, here. I don't doubt that you've been seeing things recently…that it might have caused an accident."

Staring at her hard, Mike willed himself to stand up, but couldn't find the strength. "An accident? This wasn't an accident. Something threw me off that cliff!"

Straightening up, Samantha's voice turned slightly. "I am left either to assume that, or that you did it to yourself."

The venom in the words took Mike aback, and he finally stood up. "You can't be serious. You think that I did this to myself? What, that I threw myself off, almost drowned, for what? For attention?"

"Your words; not mine."

"Then how about the claw marks?" Mike spat, pointing to the now-bandaged wound on his chest, "What, you think I turned into a bear and did that, too?"

"Have you ever seen the aftermath of an animal attack? The wounds are never that levelled, never that clean. Honestly, if I was to look at those wounds any other day, my mind would immediately go to knife. Not a stab, a slice. Not to kill, but to maim."

Feeling his face grow hotter, Mike bit back the snarl. "So you're somehow willing to believe that I cut myself, then threw myself off a cliff?"

"Am I willing to believe that over a monster in the shape of one of your long-dead animatronic pals has been stalking you for the last two months? You tell me." Sighing, Sam turned around to face him and toned down, her face growing concerned. "Okay. Enough. Mike, I can tell that you're struggling…just have something to drink, have something to eat, and let me monitor your condition a little longer. Then if you want to leave, you can do. Alright?"

Mike lowered his head and closed his eyes, feeling something deep down overcome him. "No."

"Sorry?"

"No." Mike repeated, "I haven't lost my mind. I'm not going insane."

"I didn't say you are."

A bitter laugh escaped Mike and before he even understood what he was doing, he found himself speaking those words. "Oh, but you sure as hell implied it! What, you think that I'm gonna have a drink, then I'll be pretending that everything is okay? That we're not still in one of your God damn machinations?"

She turned around again. "Don't you dare. You have…no right. No right whatsoever. You could've left whenever you wanted to."

"No right?" Mike gritted his teeth, "Screw. You. You've had it out for me since we got out of Fazbear Frights!"

Even in his anger, he felt the fury in her voice and her eyes force him to falter. "Well, I wonder why!?"

Swallowing the hesitation that had begun to build, Mike shook his head. "So that's what this is all about?"

"No." She almost cursed, "What this is all about is that, as per usual, you're holding us back! You say I've had it out for you? What about you? What has been your problem with me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know about the files, Mike."

Hearing that, Mike felt a surge of fear in his bones. "What…what?"

"They were all in there." She continued, "I know that. Tom would've never mislaid them. So who else could've lost them other than me? I had them on me the whole time, after all."

"Sam…"

"But then, I remembered." She stared at him hard, "When we were on the train. After we got out of Cheyenne. We had a watch schedule. You asked to see the files, offered to go through them while it was your turn."

Feeling his legs shivering, Mike had to sit back down.

"They were there before that." She seethed, "Yet, the next time I looked, they were gone. Just like that, the house's location was gone, and I had to start from scratch."

"You don't understand."

"Oh, I understand." She shook her head, and Mike couldn't bare to look in her eyes and see that hatred. "You interfered every chance you had. You delayed us. You misdirected us. You did everything you could to stop us from getting here, when it was your fault we were on the run in the first place!"

Mike's eyes were glued to the floor as she got closer.

"It was you who planned that fire. You who put Reggie in that building. You who wanted to stay! We're on the run because of you! Tom died there, in pain, alone, because of you! I am a widow, because of you! My children are now fatherless, because of you!"

Her voice fell low, yet that hatred remained. "There are no monsters out in those woods, Mike. The only one is right here, in this house, in front of me."

Even as he heard the footsteps leave the room and the front door slam shut, all Mike could bare to do was sit, staring at the floor.

So, a bit of a heavy chapter, this time around. Honestly, this one has been coming for a long time. The resentment has been building up since the beginning and now that it's finally imploded, it actually makes me a bit sad.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: When I was writing the double upload, it was like seeing the pieces falling in place. Act is far from done, obviously, but it's gotten the ball rolling straight in the direction it needs to. Bringing Peter Crews back came to me near the start of planning this one and honestly, with what he was going to end up doing, him dying was going to happen. But he was able to give Midnight, and the Crucible by extension, quite the defiant last moment which might just have saved Mike's groups' lives. The leadup to the Crying Child's death was a struggle, to say the least. How do you write the last few terrifying moments of a child's life, after all? It's not quite over for his story, of course, but that'll have to come later. With Mike having actual physical injuries this time around, it makes the fact that both the best and the worst person would be the one to find him. By the end of the story, there will indeed be peace and closure, assuming that they will make it out alive.