Act 3: Ancient Regrets

Saturday 23rd July 1983, 11:56 AM

It was all the boy could do as he lay there, knees glued to the floor, his tears doing nothing to stave off his bullies. Birthday banners and balloons hung over him, shadowing the boy as he cried. Perhaps another child would have felt something in his spot, something to remind him that it was meant to be a happy day. As of seven hours ago, he was seven years old. Surely this would change how another child would feel in this moment.

Instead, he was kneeling there, surrounded by big kids five years older than he was, yet they seemed to tower over him like laughing, evil hyenas. Mocking him and belittling him for how he felt.

Where were the adults to stop this? At the very least he didn't have to stomach the other kids watching on, either laughing along with this bullying or simply shrugging their shoulders without a care in the world.

This was supposed to be his birthday party, his day of joy, yet all he could do was cry as these kids hurt him again and again. No one was coming to help him.

The boy was tired, so tired. He hadn't slept a wink last night, his body wretched by the suffering he had endured. He knew it had been his mistake, to fall for such a trap, but it had been a moment of weakness he had regretted. Once that door had shut on him, he'd known how much he had messed up.

It had been some sort of back room, full of parts of the robots. A skull on a table, disjointed from its arm that hung lifelessly next to it. The heads of Fredbear and Spring Bonnie which sat up high, their expressions uncaring as they stared into the void.

But the worst thing had been the body of a suit, which had sat there slumped over without a head. What could he have done at that moment, except panic? The concrete floor had hurt his knees, but when his legs had turned to jelly and his body was wracked with the sobs that built up, it had become impossible for him to stand.

It had been after the laughter behind the door had faded and he was alone that he had finally broke, begging to be released from there.

Slamming the door with his fist, he had yelled out for someone to release him. Yelling out that he couldn't get out. He didn't even know if the door was locked or it was just too heavy to push it, but he had felt more helpless than he'd ever felt before. Surely someone would come to help him?

But as the minutes grew, his voice became hoarse from the yells that turned to screams. His fist hurt from hitting the door over and over and he had fallen to his knees, knocking weakly and calling out.

"Please let me out." He had said, squeezing his eyes shut as another wave of tears spilled from them. He could hear the laughter again, but it didn't sound like it was coming from outside. It reverbed against the walls, making them seem smaller than before. Suddenly, the thought that he wasn't quite as alone as he'd thought struck him in the chest.

"Please!" He shrieked, but his throat was sore and it came out like a croak. How could no one have realised by now that he was trapped? Yes, there was music, but he had been screaming longer than he could remember.

The laughter came back, but it was different. Like a giggle, so different from the deep, broad chuckle he'd been hearing before. Closing his eyes, the boy had rested his head against the giant slab of a door and wept, pleading in his head for someone to come and carry him out of this Hell.

"Please let me out…" He begged, but no one came.

He didn't know how long he was in that room before the door was opened. By the time it was, he had been laying on the floor, knees tucked to his chest. Silently crying, as by then any attempt at speaking up sent a shiver of pain through his throat.

It had been an employee, a guard maybe, who had found him. Simply doing his rounds, he had opened the door to perhaps check something. What he had found was a boy, his spirit broken, weeping on the floor. Everything after that had been a blur, but the next thing he knew he'd been back home in his bed, his body hurting.

Now he was kneeling nearby that same room, once again surrounded by his bullies. He doubted anyone would come to his aid either.

Their faces were disguised by masks, one wearing each of the visages of his only friends in the world. A tan boy wearing red and a Bonnie mask, a darker boy wearing blue and a Chica mask, and that same boy who had laughed at him for crying just the other day stood wearing a Freddy mask.

Then there was the boy in front of him, brown hair darker than his own with blue eyes glaring at him mockingly. Wearing a grey muscle top and that Foxy mask. Even his own blood was out to get him. Worse still that he was the one leading them.

It had been one of them who had locked him inside that backstage room; he was sure of it. Who else could've chosen to do something so horrific to him? To leave him there for so long without a care in the world? He couldn't know why they hated him so much, not when he hadn't done a thing to any of them.

What had he done to make them hate him so much?

"Wow," The Chica mask boy had chortled, shaking his head sarcastically, "your brother is kind of a baby, isn't he?"

His brother, the boy wearing the Foxy mask, laughed derisively at that. "It's hilarious."

They were standing in the middle of the hallway leading into the dining area. The last time the boy had seen anyone else, it had been some kids running through to one of the party rooms. Even if they didn't know what was going on, where were the staff?

The boy with the balloon had told him that everyone was going to the party, yet he hadn't seen anyone except the three kids and their dad who had been here earlier. Was it really just them?

No, the boy reasoned to himself knowing that salvation was surely on its way, they're just late. Even if the other kids won't help me, there will be adults. They will stop this. I just have to hold on a little longer.

But then, he heard his brother's voice say something that sent a wave of horror that coursed through his veins. Something he never expected him to do, like he was bored.

"Hey!" His brother had said with another laugh as the evil thought crossed his mind, "Why don't we help him get a closer look? He'll love it!"

As what he had just said reached the boy's mind, he started to feel a dread he had never felt before. No. No, no, no. You can't. Not that. Not that!

"No!." The boy choked out, but he could hardly speak as he realised what was about to happen. "Please!"

As he finally looked up, he searched for that eye contact to his brother and pleaded. Pleaded for reprieve, for a sign that he was joking. For a sign that the relationship they once had actually meant something, that he wouldn't do the one thing that he couldn't apologise for.

Instead, his brother looked back at him with a glint of mischief, of uncaring, and laughed again.

"Come on, guys. Let's give this little man a lift."

Shaking his head over and over, the boy tried to find the strength to run. He felt the boys get closer and grab him. The boy cried out, but they didn't even flinch as he tried to pull away from them. He heard his brother's voice again, "He wants to get up close and personal!"

Within a moment, the boy felt his brother and the boy in the Bonnie mask drag him up to his feet and off the floor. His arms stung in pain and he tried to pull away again, but they were too strong. He was carried out of the hallway and into the main dining area, trying to find his voice to call out for help.

When he finally found it, he screamed with everything that he could, "No! I don't want to go!"

But there was nobody to hear it. The other two boys followed behind closely, evil smiles behind their masks. With his head spinning around trying to find anyone to help him, the boy's stomach sank.

There were two adults talking, just down one of the hallways, but their backs were turned. Either the music or their conversation stopped them from hearing his begging. However, a horrible thought crossed the boy's mind that they simply didn't care.

He was carried past the dining tables, under the balloons that pointed towards the ceiling. Shadows of the robots watched his approach, glued to the wall. The boy tried to pull away again, but it was no use.

"You heard the little man!" His brother called out to his friends, "He wants to get even closer! Ha, ha, ha!"

Now he could see the robots, standing on the stage like gargoyles. Gigantic, perhaps double the size of even the bullies. He shrieked at the sight of them and kicked, but his legs weren't even touching the ground now. For a moment the bullies stood there with him laughing, but his brother looked into his eyes again and smiled.

"Hey guys!" He said to his friends, "I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!"

At that moment, the boy hadn't thought it could ever have gotten worse. As he was dragged up the staircase onto the stage, he had finally realised how bad it was going to get. They dragged him right up to the bear and lifted him up, onto their shoulders, getting closer and closer.

"On three!" His brother said as he moved his hands under the boy, the Bonnie mask kid doing the same, "One…two…"

As they lifted him up, the boy finally let out a scream. They got closer and closer, moving his head so that it was touching the mouth of the animatronic. They laughed, even as the bear opened its jaw and his head entered the robot's mouth.

"Okay, okay!" His brother laughed, "He gave him a kiss, guys!"

But as they tried to back him out, the boy felt the resistance against his head.

"What the…"

They tried again and this time, the boy let out a scream as he realised he was stuck.

"Oh crap…" His brother muttered, "Help. Help me!"

The two friends jumped up to the stage and tried to help, tried to pull him out.

"Get him out!" His brother yelled out in terror, "Get him out!"

Then the bear bit down.

The boy's screamed were guttural and he kicked out, but it was no use. He could hear his brother's yells, but he couldn't hear them anymore. He cried and he whimpered.

No no no no please no

Then the bear bit down again and he screamed again, but in an instant, everything was dark and he couldn't hear anymore.

Blood spilled from the animatronic's mouth as he hung there, lifelessly. The boy's brother stood there, his face pale white, and his friends behind him. Without a word, the boys wearing the Freddy and Chica mask turned and ran.

The brother stood there, shaking, his eyes glued to his little brother's body.

Thursday 23rd July 2015, 12:11 PM

His target knew he was there.

For the last few hours, Midnight had been keeping watch on the small office building, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Checking his gun and reloading the magazine, Midnight hoped he wouldn't have to use it to spill the blood of his man.

Seeing the movement in the window, Midnight's eyes darted to the figure checking through a file cabinet. The doors to the building opened and a middle-aged woman left, her bag by her side. That was Nelly Caldera, the secretary and the last employee to leave if Midnight's records were correct.

It seemed that there was no better opportunity than now. Taking a deep breath, Midnight began to scale down the building and made his way quickly across the street, climbing over the fence within seconds. Though the front was more convenient, he had seen the CCTV cameras attached to the general store across from there.

The last thing he needed was to get caught on tape breaking into the office, in case things did not go as well as they could.

As he reached the back door, Midnight checked for any door alarms before picking the lock. His tracking had led him to this place and after checking over any records in his possession, he knew that this place was the most likely place his targets could've gone. They weren't there anymore, but their trail ended here.

He stalked through the hallways and looked up. He scowled as he saw the camera up ahead, the one hidden by shadows that he hadn't seen in time. No matter, he could erase the camera footage afterwards.

But that wasn't what annoyed him. He realised too late that the camera moved, not in a automated way, but manually. It seemed that his target knew he wasn't alone.

Quickening his pace, Midnight arrived in the warehouse and saw the man on the balcony above him. They locked eyes.

"Who are you?" His target spoke loudly, clearly unsettled, "Place is closed. How'd you get in?"

"I won't be here long." Midnight responded, "And I think you know who I am. You're a smart man, Peter Crews; you knew that we would catch up with them eventually."

"So that's what this is about? Well, sorry to break it to you, but I haven't seen them in over a month. They're probably out of the country by now."

Midnight shook his head, "I doubt that. All I need from you is where they went. They left on one of your trains, correct? You smuggled them out? Tell me to which of your warehouses they went and you won't be harmed."

He knew that they hadn't left. If they had, AESIR wouldn't be going all over the west coast and mid-west searching for them. They would've made contact by now.

Like he had just bit into a lemon, Crews responded with an attempt at a straight face. "Sorry. I don't have a clue where they went."

"Don't insult my intelligence, Mr. Crews. You're a diligent man. You keep a track on everything. You would've put them on the best path forward without attracting any unjust attention."

"Okay. You caught me. I know where they went. Only problem is, I'm not telling you a damned thing."

"That's fine." Midnight stared at him, "Then all I need is your manifests."

Nodding for a moment, Crews suddenly span on the spot as Midnight pulled his suppressed pistol out and took aim. Before Midnight could shoot, he disappeared behind the doorway, narrowly missing the bullet meant for his head.

Cursing, Midnight scaled the conveyor belt next to him and ran up it, reaching the doorway and smashing through it. He saw Crews going down the hallway to his right and Midnight gave chase, knowing he had to reach the man before he did something stupid.

Up ahead of him, Crews knocked over a fax machine and supplies, trying to slow him down. He reached the doorway towards the end and ran into the room, slamming the door shut before Midnight's shot hit him.

Running as fast as a animal stalking his prey, Midnight shot at the door handle, before launching a gigantic kick into it. He'd been fifteen seconds behind Crews. Surely that was enough?

As he entered, he saw Crews by his desk in front of a fireplace. His eyes wide as Midnight came through the door, Crews reached for the pistol in the drawer of his desk and began to raise it. Before he could, Midnight fired, striking the man in the collar.

Crews toppled to the floor, his gun spinning away from him. With a bereaved grumble, Midnight stalked around the desk and kicked away the gun before the injured man could reach it.

"It didn't have to go this way, Crews." Midnight sighed, "Tell me where the manifest is and you can walk away from this."

Coughing blood, Crews rolled onto his back and looked at him. "Sure. It's there."

His hand, soaked in his own blood, pointed towards the fireplace. Midnight's head turned to it and his eyes fell onto the folder burning to a crisp.

"That was a mistake." Midnight shook his head.

"No." Crews spat, "It wasn't. Thomas Caine saved my life twenty years ago. This? This is me returning the favour!"

"And this was worth it? You understand that you just destroyed the only bit of leverage you had? You know I can't leave here with you alive and uncooperative."

Glaring at him with such hatred, Crews tried to grin, "And yet, it sounds like you're the ones who have beenrunning scared."

Knowing what he had to do, Midnight decided he needed to make it quick. He took aim and fired, hearing the man's head hit the wooden floor. Holstering his pistol, he walked out of the room, not before finding the security computer and destroying the hard drive, not leaving any evidence he'd ever been there.

Thursday 23rd July 2015, 07:55 AM

He was trapped again. Trapped in these horrible halls, running for his life.

He didn't hesitated to run to the doorways, checking down them and seeing the monstrous forms of Bonnie and Chica getting ready to stalk down them. They were getting more active each time he managed to escape them. How many nights had it been, now? How many nightmares he'd had here that were all too real?

Worse still that his choices were either to suffer through defeat, or succeed knowing the worst was still to come. Either way, it was only ever suffering. There were parts of him that still hoped that if he persevered, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. That this wouldn't have meant nothing.

At this point, he was used to the two that went down the hallways. As long as he remained calm and checked the doors, they didn't prove to be the biggest issue. The worst part was the unknowing, the reminder that each time he went to a door, there was a chance that his time was going to end sooner than he expected and more painfully than he wanted.

That wasn't the issue, he reminded himself as he heard the chattering screams behind him and spun to see the Freddles scamper away out of sight. If it was just them he had to deal with, all he needed to do was much the same at a quicker pace. But at this correct point in time, he was dealing with threats far larger than he would've liked.

Sometimes he wondered if it would be easier to give in. To surrender himself to the darkness and the pain that came with it. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was the chance that it would only get worse.

Running to the closet, he flashed his light into it and jumped in his own skin when the roar of the horrifying fox hurt his ears. He slammed the closet door shut and kept flashing the light into it, hoping that the fox would go away.

But he knew he couldn't wait to make sure. Waiting even a single moment would be a mistake that would cost him everything. Instead he ran to the doorways again, checking thoroughly to ensure that he wasn't about to get jumped by either of the two prowling monsters.

Again he heard the chittering and almost went white when he saw three of them this time, looking at their faces closely before they vanished from sight. He did not know when he had settled on the name Freddles for the strange plushie-like things, nor what they were doing here. All they seemed to do was distract him, chattering away before vanishing over and over again.

But he had a bad feeling that if he chose to ignore them and allowed them free roam to whatever they wanted to do, it would lead to something bad happening.

Then there was the fox, the thing that would hide in his closet. It would first appear during the beginning of these nightmares down the hallways, peering down either one before disappearing. He hadn't figured out how the fox was able to reach his closet; he didn't see or hear it enter. Whenever it left, he couldn't see any evidence of it even being there to begin with apart from the small plushie it would leave behind.

When it was in his closet, it seemed that his only option was to blast light in its face until the fox left.

Time blurred as he kept going back and forth, desperately trying to stave off the incoming storm that was attacking him from every possible angle. Time and time again he would have to risk going to one of the hallways and listening for any breathing from the monsters hiding in the shadows right in front of him. Knowing that if he shined that flashlight at the wrong moment, it would be over.

Then he would have to alternate between checking the bed or the closet, to scare off the newly arrived threats to his life. All of this he was having to juggle, night after night, knowing that to be too slow, to make a single mistake, would not be forgiven.

He only ever had one chance.

Blinking as he heard the noise, he looked around for the source before running to his next task. It was a static sound, but it sounded like a voice, incomprehensible, laced into the static. He shook his head and tried to figure it out, but no matter how he thought about it, he couldn't understand where it was coming from or what it was about. It sounded almost alien, like it wasn't real.

For what felt like hours, he kept running back and forth, but he was struggling. He knew it. That night was difficult, far more difficult than the last one. Slowing down, he tried to keep on top of everything, even as the breathing outside the doorways became louder and the Freddles appeared in three more often.

When he heard the closet door open, he knew it wasn't enough.

Spinning to face it, he shined his light into it, but it was empty. Not even a plushie left behind. Feeling that fear filling his chest, he turned to look around as it attacked.

The fox creature ran into him, grasping him by the neck. He screamed as it roared in his face, that snake-like tongue hanging from its mouth. Pulling away, he managed to slip out of the fox's grip and turned to run, but he knew it was useless. No matter where he ran, he would be running into one of the monsters.

Backing away, he felt his heart thumping in his chest as the fox darted towards him, raising that rusted hook above its head and grasping him again by his collar, raising the hook to slit his throat—

Thursday 23rd July 2015, 07:58 AM

This time, Mike didn't shoot up after waking from his nightmare. Perhaps he had gotten accustomed to them. Though he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest and his throat dry up, at the very least he didn't feel any worse than he had every other time he'd awoken from slumber.

He briefly looked around the room and saw that he was alone. Everybody else was already up and about. It wouldn't have surprised him if it was to get to their tasks now that they were as gainfully employed as they could be in this sort of situation.

Climbing up from his sleeping bag, Mike stepped out of the room after throwing on the clothes he'd bought only a few days ago. Months of running around in the same gear had been finally relieved now that they could earn some extra cash from working with Quantum. It wasn't a massive amount, but seeing as they weren't paying rent or taxes, it was enough.

As he walked out of the room, he saw Ella and Jack enter through the front door. He nodded to them as they waved, "Did it go well?"

"No worse than the last few." Ella shrugged, "It's all fairly low risk."

"And the information Quantum has been providing has been good so far." Jack pointed out, "Carl has been cross-referencing some of those names from the last drop off with what we know and he might have some more leads once we're…you know, in the clear."

Mike went over to the stash of food, helping himself to his breakfast ration: A cereal bar, a juice carton, and some preserved bacon. He realised how hungry he was as he started to wolf it down. "This was a good arrangement you got for us, Jack. My bad for thinking it was a mistake."

But Jack didn't seem even slightly smug. "If I'm honest, I was worried about it. But if it gets us what we need, then it's worth it. We'll be out of here soon, anyway. Can't be long until that AESIR lot find us."

With a conflicted shrug, Ella seemed to look around for someone listening in. "That's only if they find us first. Those Nightingales can't be too far behind."

Mike knew she was right. Counting the days in his head, it almost shocked him that they had been at the house for at least a month and a half. On the run now for nearly five. He suspected that in their failure to locate this ragtag group of theirs, AESIR and the Nightingales had been hard at war with each other. The only thing that concerned Mike was how they hadn't learned anything.

Hearing the door open, the three of them turned to look. When Mike saw Carl enter, he gave him a welcoming nod, but could see the gaunt look on his face. Feeling worried, Mike cleared his throat. "Carl. Everything alright?"

But he could see in the man's eyes that he wasn't. Behind them, Samantha was coming down the stairs and she seemed to be listening in. Rubbing his face for a moment, Carl spoke grimly. "Peter Crews is dead."

Feeling that dread fill his stomach, Mike blinked, "What? How….how?"

"He was killed the same day we arrived here. The newspapers here…well, it wasn't going to be front page news that a man in a different state was murdered. He was found in his office first day of June. Someone got in after everyone else had gone home, shot him. No signs of burglary."

Finally that pain hit Mike in his stomach. He remembered how Crews had taken them in, given them shelter when they needed it the most. "You think…it was the Nightingales, right? The timing of it…"

Carl grunted. Mike could see that he was troubled, angry and sad at the same time. "It had to be. They would've sniffed our trail, worked out that we ended up in Cheyenne, then found that we just vanished. I don't know how they worked out that we went to Peter…"

As the pain went away, Mike suddenly realised the ramifications of it all. "Assuming that Crews didn't talk, didn't tell them where we went…is there a chance that they could've found out a different way?"

"Maybe. Crews might have kept a manifest, probably would've omitted any details that would obviously put us on a train…but it wouldn't be impossible for someone smart to connect the dots and work out which way we went."

"But that doesn't matter." Ella spoke up, frowning, "Surely they couldn't reach the conclusion that after spending two months fleeing from Utah, we would've ended up doing a full circle and ended right back where we started?"

When Carl didn't affirm that, Mike knew they were in deep trouble. "If my suspicions are correct and it's their leader who's been sent after us—which I am at least thankful is unlikely because surely Donovan would want him on the frontlines fighting AESIR—then he's tracked down more elusive targets in the past. If Midnight is the one after us, it's not if, rather when."

"How long do you think we have?" Mike asked him, knowing the answer wasn't going to be good.

Carl breathed in, clearly having thought about it himself, "He was in Cheyenne just over a month after we left. Without the manifest it would take him longer to track us, but the moment he works out where we landed…we arrived here and the end of May…so it means that the sooner he could've been here was at the beginning of this month if everything was against us."

"And assuming everything is in our favour?" Samantha asked him, hesitant.

"I would say…no later than the end of this week."

"So three days." Mike stated.

"If we're lucky."

"Okay." Samantha accepted, "We leave tomorrow. Me and Carl have a meeting with Quantum today. One last job, and we go home."

Another double upload today, likely the last one for this story.