The Reznov Dilemma

New Harmony, Utah

Wednesday 30th November 2016, 20:31 PM

Minutes turned to hours inside of the house, as they scavenged for any information that would lead them somewhere. Having spent so many weeks during their time on the run inside this very building, albeit worse for wear, it was almost surreal.

Every time Samantha turned to look at a part of the house, she half expected to see those cracks in the walls, or the ripped up carpet. She would look at the spot where Midnight had fallen and could feel that surge of adrenaline she'd experienced watching Mike gun the deadly assassin down.

He saved my life that night, Sam mournfully reminded herself, even after everything I said to him.

"It can't be anyone else, can it?" Spencer called through from the other room as he searched through the bookshelves, "I mean, who else would've bought this place?"

"Probably." Tyler yelled from upstairs, "We have to make sure, though; last thing we need is to get caught with our trousers down breaking and entering some random mong's house."

"It's Mike." Sam spoke out, feeling sure of herself, "The time adds up. Mike had the money to do it. He seemed ready to confront his past. It must be."

Climbing down from the bookshelf, Spencer wearily sighed as he returned to the main room, "I can't see anything. There's no photographs, no documents…not even a letter in the bin. If Mike is the owner, it looks like he's doing his best not to let anybody know about it."

"He was always secretive." Sam offered.

"We have to find something, soon." Spencer shook his head in worry, "We're isolated out here, but all it will take is a nosy neighbour spotting us and the game's up."

Heading downstairs, Tyler grunted before he reached the bottom, holding on to the rail that, the last time Samantha had seen it, had been in pieces. "Anyone check the fridge?"

Spencer snorted, "Why, you hungry?"

"Maybe." He shrugged, "But I was asking more in the situation that the fridge was stocked up with rotting food."

Silent for a moment, Spencer seemed to understand what he was implying, "Place looks too well-kept to be abandoned."

"True." Looking around, Tyler sighed, "Sam, I think this place is a bust. I'm not seeing anything that tells us more than we already know."

Though she knew of her desire to keep searching, she had to agree. "Give me five minutes; there's one more thing I want to check out."

Heading to the door in the back of the main room, Sam opened it and walked down the steps into the basement. Once she was down there, the sight of a clean basement almost surprised her. The concrete floor was dusted and smooth and it was no longer cluttered. Switching the light on, Sam blinked as the brightness blinded her for a moment.

Almost immediately, she could see the metallic glint towards the back of the room. Narrowing her eyes, she approached the metal and looked down.

Pursing her lips, she got a better look and realised that the floor in the back of the basement was metal rather than concrete. How did we not see this last time? Trying to picture the basement when she'd last seen it, she remembered how this area had been filled to the brim with debris and old furniture.

Scanning the metal floor, she spotted the handlebar and the gaps that formed a square. Getting closer, she crouched down and felt for the handle. It was a trap door. Taking a few moments to think, she pulled it open.

Unlike the rest of the basement, the area underneath the trap door was not so taken care of; a cloud of dust threw itself into the air as she opened it, making her cough and gag for a moment. Staring hard into the new space, she saw that it was small.

She felt for her flashlight and flicked it on, eyeing the inside of the space. There was a passageway that was sealed by a thick layer of concrete, though she couldn't help but notice that parts of it had been chipped away.

"Someone tried to get through it." She mumbled to herself. Just as she went to turn and leave, something else in the passageway caught her eye, at the bottom of the staircase.

For a moment, she couldn't believe her eyes. Climbing down the ladder, she picked the object up and went back up. Without a stop in her stride, she marched straight upstairs, where Tyler and Spencer were waiting for her. Seeing her expression, Tyler raised an eyebrow.

"What did you find, then?" He said, "You always get that look when you find something you don't like."

"No, I don't." She responded, almost self-consciously.

"Nah, he's right. "Spencer collaborated, "Like you said earlier. Habits?"

"So, what did you find?" Tyler asked again.

Quiet, Sam held out the files in front of her for them to see. Though Spencer seemed intrigued, there wasn't a flicker of recognition. Whereas Tyler switched from that melancholic dry humor to a straight face, almost angered glint in his eyes.

That glint remained as they left the house and traveled through the woods again, before reaching the car. Stopping her, Tyler kept themselves out of Spencer's earshot. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yes." She stated simply, "He was here. This must be his house."

"Maybe." Tyler agreed, "But I can't see him abandoning them like that, unless he meant to keep them out of someone's hands. You said they were underneath a trap door?"

"I did. Look, the important thing here is that he was here. We've found the trail. We just need to follow it."

"Well, I've got one idea." Tyler admitted, "He must have had some help getting the documentation. On top of that, I doubt he'd risk going to someone he didn't know."

Knowing he was right, Samantha sighed, "I really hope not. We didn't leave things with Quantum very well."

"Maybe not," Tyler shrugged, "but he's been driving down a road of bad decisions a long time now."

…

"So who's this contact of yours?" Spencer broke the silence as they parked up across the warehouse; little had changed of the area since she had last seen it.

Though she knew that question would eventually be asked of her, Sam still hadn't found the best answer. Choosing her words carefully, she explained, "Carl and I met him when we were on the run. He gave us the help we needed, at the time."

"So you trust him?"

Lying to her son about this wouldn't help; she knew that. "No." She admitted, "I don't. I wouldn't be doing this if I was here alone."

Even with his doubt lingering, Spencer gave a nod and fell silent. Turning, Sam could see Tyler eyeing her with a strange glint. Shrugging, he got out of the car and kept watch. Taking a deep breath, Sam joined him, followed by Spencer. Before Spencer could walk around to join them, Sam whispered to Tyler.

"I don't know how this is going to go." She warned, "You know how we left off with him."

"How bad was it?" The voice stunned them and they both turned their heads towards Spencer. With a raised eyebrow, he made it clear that he'd heard her. Biting her lip, Sam tried to think of an explanation, before Tyler spoke in her stead.

"I wasn't there," Tyler pointed out, "but I read their report. Your mum and Carl played the long game, kid. Played this Quantum guy like a fiddle. Did some work for him, all strictly clean, and then when he wanted them to kill someone for him, they did it differently. Got the Police involved, and the chaos gave them the chance to escape. It was the right move."

"Why did Quantum want this guy dead?" Spencer pressed on.

"'Cause he was an evil bastard." Tyler shrugged, "Nobody would've cried if he ended up dead, but they still made the right move. Trust me, kid, that year was complicated."

"I know." Spencer agreed, "I was there. Remember?"

Turning to face the warehouse, Sam tried to relax herself. "We're wasting time. Let's get this out of the way."

"Are you taking your rifle, Uncle?" Spencer inquired as he quickly checked his own ammunition.

"Not going to be of much use in there." Tyler grumbled, "Still, just in case."

As they approached the warehouse, Sam found herself drumming up every possibility of the next few minutes. In her heart, she was sure that Mike had gone here himself at some point and she couldn't shake the idea that it was the reason he stopped reporting back. Had her mistake finally caused the death of a friend?

Every step they took towards the warehouse felt like a mile; her own breathing became like a thud of a giant, a warning. It felt that at any moment, at the drop of a hat, their whole world would be torn asunder by a barrage of gunfire. A fight which they would not survive through.

By the entrance was a guard, armed with an assault rifle Sam recalled to be an AK-47. Seeing them approach, the guard stood up straight and hefted the rifle up in a warning. Without stopping, Tyler led at the front, rifle still holstered on his back, but his pistol held loose and ready to be withdrawn.

Seeing that they were not stopping, the guard barked out in his best threatening voice, "Hey, this is private property! You better get out of here!"

"Ain't gonna happen, buddy." Tyler called back, making the guard grit his teeth.

"You wanna die?" The guard hissed, and Tyler shrugged back.

"No. Do you?"

"Hang on." Spencer called out and stepped forward, "Nobody needs to die. We just want to talk. We won't fire, if you won't."

"Back off!" The guard yelled, raising his gun, "Now!"

As he did, Tyler, quick as a thunderbolt, drew his pistol and had it aimed straight at the man's head. "Aim that elsewhere. I'll fire faster than you can, pal."

Still gritting his teeth, the guard looked between the two of them, deducing his next best move. Then, his eyes settled onto Samantha, and something changed. The guard blinked and stared at her.

"Wait." He breathed, "You. You're that Doctor lady, right?"

They all fell silent for a moment and Samantha realized they were all looking at her. Steadying herself for her answer, she nodded, "I am."

A million possibilities ran through her head of what was about to happen; whether the guard would fire, or would maybe try to call in for backup. Most of these possibilities led to the seemingly obvious conflict that was about to occur, which would put them all in danger.

So when the guard lowered his gun and changed that expression of vigilant anger to bemusement, it caught her off-guard. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

Hesitating for a moment, Sam stepped forward, "My apologies. I wasn't wanting to cause anything here. I wanted to speak to Quantum, if he's still around?"

Shrugging, the guard completely lowered his gun and Tyler followed suit, placing his pistol back in his holster. "You're in luck; the boss was leaving in about an hour. I'll call in, see if he's free."

Sam smiled and nodded, "I would appreciate that."

"No need. You helped us out a lot back then." Grabbing his radio, the guard began to talk through it to the head of security inside. All the while Tyler kept an eye on him and an ear open, but as Sam looked between her companions, she saw that flicker of doubt on Spencer's face again.

"Are you going to tell me about that eventually?" Spencer quietly inquired and she felt that stab of guilt again.

"I will." She responded, "I promise."

Once his radio call was concluded, the guard placed it back and gave a thumbs up, "Lieutenant is coming down now, he'll take you to the boss man."

"Thank you, mate." Tyler smiled, as if he hadn't been aiming for the guard's head a minute before.

Hardly a minute later, the doors opened and on the other side stood the same man who'd escorted them in the previous year. Stepping out, he eyed them cautiously before nodding. "The boss wants to see you. I suppose you won't be willing to surrender your firearms first this time?"

"I'm afraid not." Sam admitted, speaking up before Tyler could usher his own response to that.

"Very well." Turning around, the lieutenant calmly walked back through the hallways and after a short exchange of glances, they followed him. Before long, they were entering the large warehouse filled with twenty people.

When she had last walked through that warehouse, there had been half as many workers and only three tubs full of the same stain liquid used for their operation. Now, both had doubled; it seemed that Quantum's enterprise was only growing.

She gave a sideways look towards her son and had been expecting that hint of disapproval on his face. With the lieutenant far enough away for her to feel comfortable talking about it, she got closer to him and whispered, "I know it looks bad. Trust me, I wouldn't be involving us in this if it wasn't necessary, honey."

Though she could tell that he understood this, it didn't shake that disapproval off his face. "This was what you got involved with last year. Wasn't it?"

"Yes." She admitted, "It was a mistake. But it could've been a lot worse."

Shaking his head, Spencer scowled, "We spend so much time, so many of our assets, stopping these kinds of operations. What sense does it make getting involved in them? Where are our standards?"

Not trusting herself to find an excuse for an answer, she felt almost relieved when Tyler, eavesdropping on their conversation, threw in the cold, hard truth.

"Shades of Grey, Spence." He muttered, "Our work isn't all about stopping cartels, serial killers, and death cults wanting to destroy our very way of life. Sometimes, it gets truly uncomfortable."

"Like working with criminals?"

"If that's what it takes. It wasn't the Police or good, law-abiding people who kept your Dad alive when he was a kid; it was a gang of criminals. By every lawful definition, we're just a bunch of vigilantes. If achieving a long term good like saving lives requires cooperating with a lesser evil now and then, I'd pick working with criminals every single time."

Perhaps it was clear that Spencer still didn't agree, but it was also clear that he hadn't a response to that. A part of her felt pain at his conflict, even if it was necessary.

Once they reached the base of the elevated office, the lieutenant stopped by the staircase and turned to them. "I should warn you; we're not looking for any more workers these days. Business is going well enough."

Samantha nodded graciously, "That's fine; we're not looking for work. Just information and perhaps a little help."

Heading up the staircase one-by-one, the three of them stopped by the office and exchanged their hesitation before entering. As they did, they saw the muscled man pouring himself a coffee. In spite of the clear success of the operation, there was nary a flashy status symbol anywhere in sight.

Not much of a surprise there, Sam pointed out to herself, Quantum was clearly careful about showing off.

Turning to them, a small smile appeared on his face as Quantum looked at her, with some surprise about the two new faces with her. "Ah, Mrs. Williams. And friends? I'm surprised not to see Mr. Young with you this time."

"Carl's busy." She explained, before taking the seat on the sofa offered to her.

Sitting down opposite them, with Spencer joining his mother and Tyler remaining restlessly pacing behind them, Quantum leaned back, still smiling. "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you in this little town again. After all that happened. You were staying at that house to the south, I believe? Apparently the same night you left, there were reports of gunfire."

Nervously, Sam shrugged, "It was why we had to leave. We were being tracked down."

"Any casualties on your side?"

"Five injuries, three of them critical. Thankfully, we all made it out alive."

"I'm glad to hear."

Biting her lip, Sam couldn't shake that feeling of dread as they ignored the topic. "Without wanting to spoil the mood, I have to ask. Why were you willing to speak to us?"

Quantum raised an eyebrow, "It's just a meeting with old friends."

"What I mean is…that last job. It went sour. I was expecting a less-than-welcome reception."

It seemed that Quantum hadn't known what she was talking about at first. Another smile, this one more sardonic, flashed on his face. "Ah, the events regarding our dear Aleksander Reznov?"

"For one thing, yes. Not to state the obvious, but we didn't finish the assignment."

"Oh, you did." Quantum laughed, "Not in the way I asked, but it worked out in the end."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the Law arrested my old friend and found his operation in the basement. It seems that in light of the findings in what he was involved in, any talks of a deal with the man fell through. The FBI didn't want to be investigated for cooperating with an accused human trafficker when their only reason was to catch a money launderer in the act."

"Oh." Sam mumbled, "Okay, then."

"Don't get me wrong; we still have the IRS to contend with, but that's simply business as usual." Still smiling, Quantum leaned back, "Now, what was it you were wanting?"

Looking between her two companions, Sam opened up, "Mike Schmidt. He was one of our people last year. He returned two months ago, but has gone missing. We're worried about him."

"Mike?" Quantum blinked, "He came to us only some time ago, looking for new IDs."

Feeling a rush of excitement, Sam sat up straight, "Do you think you could track him down?"

"Of course. It may take some time, but I'll get the information for you. Consider it payment for the job well done."

Hurricane, Utah

Wednesday 28th September 2016, 15:45 PM

As his car stumbled down the old road, Mike found himself too deep inside of his thoughts. Even after all the travelling he'd done, it was still early in the day. Even then, he felt weary and could almost imagine himself flopping back into bed. Maybe that was what he needed; a break away from the thoughts that were spiralling.

What he'd seen inside of Henry's house was going to stick with him. What had the old saying been? Ignorance is bliss. The story of his life.

It's important, though, Mike knew in his heart. No point burying your head in the ground when they might be down there already.

Of course, he had no idea if it had merely been the one in that hole underneath Henry's ruined house, or if others had been waiting elsewhere. Doubt crept into Mike as he pondered if he'd been too rash burying the one he'd found underneath a couple feet of cement. Looking back, he knew that it hadn't appeared to be an immediate threat. Would it have been wiser to dig the animatronic out and lug it back home to properly examine it?

You're not exactly a robotics engineer, a voice in Mike's head pointed out dryly, not a lick of talent when it comes to mechanics. What could you have learnt?

No. No, burying that thing had been the right move. It had likely been Henry himself who'd originally buried the thing and if that man himself had chosen such a move, who was Mike to think any differently? Once he paired that with his gut feeling on the identity of the mechanical monster, it only vindicated his actions.

It means that it was something that could never see the light of day, for the good of everyone in town.

Knowing that to dwell on that matter any further would be a waste, he once more considered the Toy Animatronics. Back when he was still in the dark on so much, he'd chosen not to question where he'd found them in the end. Buried deep in a junkpile they'd called home, a mixture of Fazbear Entertainment ridding the world of them and their guilt-caused self-exile.

It was more than that, of course, as he'd already confirmed. Why would Fazbear Entertainment or Afton Robotics do anything out of the good of their blackened hearts? They were merely storing them away, out of sight.

There was no possible way they hadn't done the same with these Funtime Animatronics; failed projects, yet put together with such advanced technology. For what exactly Mike hadn't a clue, but he knew deep down they were such out there.

Scowling, Mike drummed his theories over and over again, grasping for the answer that would lead him there. When the Fazcrew failed them, Fazbear Entertainment threw them in a hole. If his belief that the animatronic he found back there was true, then another band was also buried.

So where would they have stuck the Funtime Animatronics after Circus Baby's was cancelled?

Once he arrived back in New Harmony, Mike reached his house and parked up. Though the sun was beginning to stalk closer underneath the horizon, it was still bright enough outside. He entered his house and went straight to drumming through the case notes again.

As he did so, he tried to find anything that would clue him in. Reaching for a spark, anything that would signal something.

All I need is a sign, Mike closed his eyes, hoping. Had Tom been standing there, Mike was sure he'd have figured it out by now. He would've found the sign already.

Growing frustrated, he pushed the case notes away and groaned in irritation as his rush knocked some other papers off his desk. Leaning down to grab them, Mike saw that they were the documents to the ownership of his house, some of which was still not resolved. With how busy he was, the last thing he needed was to have all these real estate issues.

Pausing for a moment, Mike stared hard at the documents, silent. Then he put them back down and went through the case notes again until he found what he was looking for; the deed to the closed down building that was once Fredbear's Family Diner.

It was an interesting point, but one he'd passed up as unimportant that alongside the deed was that it wasn't just the building itself that was a part of the deed. The surrounding area, including the road connected were included, but also the utilities not directly a part of the building.

Lower in the deed were two other buildings regarded as utilities too, yet something seemed off. No addresses, only postcodes and coordinates. Quietly contemplating that, Mike flicked on his laptop and found the coordinates.

The first coordinate led south of the old Fredbear's, the other east. Still, close by enough for it to be reasonable, yet almost pointless on the logistics. Maybe as storage rooms, yet it still seemed unreasonable.

As he thought more and more about it, something twinged inside his gut. There's a sealed tunnel underneath my house. There was something underneath Henry's house. Maybe I've been looking at this the wrong way.

There was one stark difference between the Toy animatronics and the Funtime animatronics: The latter was William Afton's pet project. What if he decided to deal with the problem behind closed doors? Sticking them not in some random hole, but somewhere he could have retrieved them from whenever he liked?

Like underneath his old restaurant.

Feeling a surge of excitement rush through him, Mike collected his tools again and within minutes was back out of the house, getting in his car. With his laptop in the passenger seat and a paper map rolled on the dashboard, he looked for the location of the first place of interest. It seemed to be midway through the farmer's field to the south, nearby where the Lawbringer had landed to rescue them after the night he killed Mr. Midnight.

The drive around the roads to the south of his house was short before he eventually stopped by the side of an expansive field. Looking out of the window, Mike searched for any way he could get closer, but came up empty-handed. Grumbling, he went back to the map and could see that the coordinates were a ten minute walk away.

After mustering his strength, he climbed out of the car and grabbed his things, before finding a gap in the fence. The sun's dying rays washed over him as he made his way across the fields soon to be made barren.

As he trudged along through the corn and wheat, Mike drummed through his thoughts as he wondered what he was about to find. At the same time, he found himself watching out for any movement amongst the crops, paranoid. A short while later, he could make something out in the distance, a building.

Butterflies filled his stomach as he looked at it, knowing it had to be what he was looking for. Once he was under the shadow of the building, he could see how decrepit it was; left untouched for what may have been years, forgotten and abandoned.

Taking a deep breath, he unloaded his laptop from his bag and checked the map browser for his coordinates. That feeling only grew when he confirmed, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was there.

Once he'd packed his things again, he circled the building; it was about the size of a public restroom. After two turns around, he came across a reinforced wooden door. Mike stopped for a moment and looked around, worried about being seen. He tried the door and was almost disappointed when it wouldn't budge.

Rusted shut, he theorised. Too solid to force his way through.

He continued to circle the building and once he was on the opposite end of it, saw the other possible entrance: A window that stood tall above him, too high to see. A porthole, more than anything. Looking around for anything that could help him, Mike finally spotted a wooden box full of crops that stood on a wheel platform, by the edge of the field.

A moment of hesitation which was quashed with a shrug passed before he dragged the platform up the small hill towards the building. Once it was in position, he climbed up and could finally see the inside.

A long hallway stretched in the middle of the interior of the building. To the left and right of that hallway were side rooms, alike the party rooms he remembered from the pizzeria that belonged to the Toys'.

That thought simultaneously bemused and unsettled him. Trying the window, Mike could feel it budge, but not fully open. Any thought of breaking it to get in was dashed aside. Even if I did, I couldn't fit through there.

Instead, he snapped a few pictures with his camera and got down, moving the platform where he'd found it and returning to his car.

By the time he was back on the road, the sun had fully descended and darkness surrounded him. I still have one more place to search, he reminded himself. Something was troubling him, from what he saw inside that abandoned building. Stripped of its identity, but the skeleton remained and the layout was stuck in his mind.

It had reminded him so much of that hallway in that pizzeria, the one where Jeremy Fitzgerald had fought for his life. Yet there was something else; a sense of Déjà vu that Mike couldn't shake.

At the very least, the second destination took him into an area he could drive to. Just south of Route 144, he stopped at a dirt road that brought him to another building. As the car crawled to a halt underneath its ominous shadow, Mike looked around for any onlookers before quietly climbing out.

Much like the previous building, this one clearly was left to rot. Biting his lip, Mike found his legs to move like jelly, unsteady and flaccid. Even so, he collected his things and roamed around the building to search for a way in, against his better judgement.

Off the side of the building was a metal ladder; making a note of it, he continued until he found the door. Much like the last one, this one refused to budge and he knew deep-down he was at the right location. To his chagrin, this one lacked the windows he could've used to get a glance inside.

With no other option, Mike knew that the ladder was his best chance. He returned to it and lugged himself up the metal rungs, before making his way across the asphalt roofing. Right in the dead centre was an old skylight and he felt both relief and tension rinse through his blood.

He checked the skylight to make sure that he could make his way back out afterwards and was taken aback by the sight of a stepladder, propped up underneath him. Someone's already been here, he realised. He made his way and dropped down into a utility room, about the size of a jail cell. Behind him was a door, which he pushed open and stepped into the hallway.

On both ends of the hallway were corners that turned into further hallways. Picking the one to his left, Mike flicked on his flashlight.

Down to the far end of the empty hallway was a doorway. Silent as a shadow, he crept his way to the doorway and looked inside.

That gnawing dread which had been building inside his body since he first began looking finally burst out at the sight of what lay inside.

A room, square in shape, a doorway straight opposite of the one he was standing underneath. Another space in the middle of the wall that a door would have once accompanied.

Without a word, Mike turned away from the room and made his way back to the skylight, climbed back onto the roof, back down the ladder, before finally collapsing in shock.

It's been a while. Had to have a bit of a break, but I'm hoping to get the rest of the first act finished within the next two weeks. I know it's been a slow start so far; this had sort of been the start of Phase 3 of the series, and there's a lot that needs establishing. I also wanted to warn people that I'll be starting a new job likely by the start of next month, so I can't say for sure when I will be able to start writing the second act once these next two chapters are finished. Don't worry; I fully intend to have this story finished by the end of the year.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: It's strange really, I remember when the first book came out and how so many people of the community disregarded them because of the (misread) quote by Scott. I always wanted to incorporate elements from them. When it comes to Hurricane itself, it was something I made the decision to not go into massive detail in the first two books about the town. Hurricane was always where the story was set, but it had to have changed between when Mike lived there during the first two stories and the last two. The Twisted Ones, a book I'd only just finished by the time I uploaded last, was a hard read. The books caused many a headache for the community in finding answers. I wouldn't be surprised if people have already figured out what I'm going for with the mention of that band of animatronics. Especially with this chapter.

As for the Caine family trip...it's only going to get more difficult for them as they continue.