The Pit

New Harmony, Utah

Wednesday 30th November 2016, 23:47 PM

Once again in the waiting game, Samantha thought bitterly as they left the warehouse. From the start, it seemed this was all they ever ended up doing; stuck waiting for answers. It wouldn't bother her so much if it wasn't for the knowledge that hours mattered. If on the off-chance Mike was still alive—a reality that Sam was doubting with each passing day—these delays didn't help.

Staring out of the car window as Tyler led them back through the narrow streets of New Harmony, Sam wondered how this would all pan out. What had Mike discovered that could've led to all this?

Perhaps they would find the answers somewhere in that house, as they had before.

As before, Tyler brought them to a halt by the treeline roadside and they wandered past the trees until the house's shadow loomed over them. A thought dawned on her as they approached, on the chance that someone had come home whilst they were discussing with Quantum.

To her disappointment, the house was just as empty as it had been hours before.

"We're not thinking about staying here," Spencer broke the silence, albeit quietly, "are we?"

"It's four walls and a roof." Tyler shrugged with a dry tone, "Squatter's rights."

"And if the homeowner comes back?"

"If it's Mike, then happy days. If not, then we'll just have to kill 'em."

For a moment, Spencer stared hard at his uncle, who just raised an eyebrow in response. It was eventually left to Samantha to break the stalemate.

"He's joking."

"Okay." Spencer said earnestly, though he still was giving Tyler a look.

"Lighten up, Spence." Tyler snorted, "Besides, you can't just kill people like that these days. People don't vanish as easily as they did twenty years ago."

Entering the house the same way they did before, Sam spotted Tyler as he was about to flick on a lightswitch. Noticing the shake of her head, he stopped himself and shrugged again. All three of them made their way into the living room and looked around.

"Alright." Tyler said, and Sam had to stop herself from recoiling at the volume he was speaking at. "We should start thinking about getting some sleep. I'd say one of us should be enough to keep watch; I can't see how we could get ambushed."

Though she knew that he was right, Sam could feel herself fatigued, yet not ready to try and sleep. Her mind was racing too much, thoughts and theories spiralling around in her head. Worries about what this was all leading to.

"I can take the first watch." She finally answered and both of them stared at her for a moment.

"You sure?" Tyler asked, his usual edge not present, "It's been a tough day, Sam."

"I'm sure. You two find a spot, get some rest. I'll wake one of you up in a couple hours."

It was clear that neither of them were convinced, but they had the reason to not question her any further. A few minutes later, Sam was sitting nearby the front window and keeping an eye out whilst they lay in the other room, a study. Every few moments, she would get up from her spot and walk around the other entrances and views of the house.

For some time, she recalled that night warding the deadly Mr. Midnight away from the house as he hunted her and Mike down. In the end, it had been only due to Mike's experience as a Freddy Fazbear's night guard that they survived that night long enough for Carl and the others to return.

Perhaps I may have learnt something from him, Sam pondered. As she patrolled the house, her senses seemed more attuned to her surroundings; more so than they'd been before that night. Until Midnight had finally breached the house, Mike had prevented him from doing so many times in the hour that led up to the climatic fight.

Nevertheless, as the first hour of her watch reached its twilight, she felt a familiar boredom creeping up. It wasn't helped when her thoughts persisted around the case, and those files she'd found in the basement: Clear evidence that Mike had been back here. For how long, she could not say, but who else could own this house?

Once these thoughts became too strong for her to bear, she gave in and retrieved the files from her bag. For the next hour, though she didn't neglect her duties, she spent the time between her rounds going through the files.

It hadn't been the first time she'd binged through these files, of course; ever since that night her world crumbled right in front of her, it felt like one of the few ways she could still feel him. Maybe she had been offered a hand to escape the freefall she'd been in those months on the run, but that connection hadn't faded.

At some point, she was reaching the end of her husband's notes, feeling each and every word touch at her heart like a double-edged sword, filling her both with love and pain. At the last of his notes, she scanned the lines over and over again.

In my younger days, I found myself caught in this web of the unknown too many times to recall, Thomas had written, and found it taxing and infuriating. Yet as I grow older, I understand the mercy of not knowing. Had I all the pieces, I cannot say for certain if it would bring any more relief than missing a few or more.

Biting her lip at the words, she had to take a moment to compose herself. Fighting back the tears, she took a deep breath before turning the page, expecting to see the back of the folder.

Instead, there were more pages.

That gave her pause; that had been the last page. It always had been. Does this mean…?

As her eyes fell down onto the handwriting, she knew it to be true. Mike had added his own notes.

At some point during the night, Samantha finally found the wherewithal to wake Tyler to switch shifts. By his reaction looking at his watch, she knew she had overstepped her mark. Resting her head against the pillow and huddling up in her sleeping bag, she fell asleep, yet her dreams were as restless as her waking thoughts.

A couple hours after dawn, Sam woke up and found herself alone in the room they'd chosen to sleep. She rubbed her eyes tiredly before forcing herself up. Hunger slowed her movements and she remembered that she hadn't eaten since noon the previous day.

I need to take better care of myself, she reprimanded herself and then retrieved some of the rations in their food bag. Taking the can of beans and sausages out of the bag, she sniffed before getting back up.

As she left the room, her eyes fell onto both Tyler and Spencer, one keeping watch and the other looking around the house. Tyler looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "How was your sleep?"

"Not great." She admitted, "What time is it?"

"Just past seven. Not much to do today, not until we hear back from Quantum."

Nodding half-heartedly, she retrieved the can opener and began to peel it open, Tyler watching her the entire time. Shaking his head, he stepped in. "No, no, nope."

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Sam, it's Winter. Heating's off in the house. You need something hot in your system."

A veil of confusion continued to cover her as she mumbled, "Right."

Grabbing the can, Tyler took it over to the kitchen counter and opened it. He retrieved a bowl out of the cupboard before pouring the contents into the ceramic dishware. As he placed it inside the microwave, she felt nervous.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She pointed out, "If it's not Mike who owns the house…"

"We'll wash up, don't worry." He assured her. A couple minutes later, he was taking the bowl out and placing it on the table with her. She smiled her thanks at him before helping herself.

"You sure you're alright?" Tyler asked again, concerned. "You've been out of sorts last couple days."

"I'm fine. Really."

"Okay, then."

They both sat in silence for some time. Glancing at the movement in the other room, Sam spotted Spencer walking around and examining everything he could. For minutes on end Sam watched him work, seeing that glint in his eyes that could have been interpreted to be anything between interest and contempt.

It was like he was critical of everything he saw; an ignorant person may have thought he was reviewing Mike's choices in design, or perhaps of the cleanliness. Naturally, Sam knew differently. She had spent more time than she could count watching that way of working; first from her father, than from him.

There was a bittersweet feeling when she recalled how her son felt he hadn't learned enough from his dad. He might never know how close he was to being just like him, twenty-five years younger.

Tyler noticed her trailing eyes and frowned. "What's up?"

"He's finished his sixth sweep." She said just loudly enough for him to hear her, "See how he circled back on himself? Tom did the same. He first had an initial sweep, scanning the room. Looking for anything obvious. Once he was done, he'd start fresh and check through for what he'd missed. Then he would do it five more times, each quicker than the last.

Thinking about that for a moment, Tyler snorted and grinned. "Right. Yeah, he did, didn't he? Always seven times. He could do it in just a couple minutes and it was like he had the whole room memorised."

As Spencer left the room and moved into another, she continued, "I watched him. Back when he first started, when we were still kids. Then when he was working with the Crucible. John taught him more and he was even better at it."

Her eyes moved to the floor as she dwelled on it. "I was always enamoured. I don't know why…but when I watched him, I could never take my eyes off of him."

To her surprise, Tyler laughed. Not loud enough for Spencer to have heard it, but enough to make her jump. Searching his face for an answer, Sam found herself stumped. At last, he explained himself.

"Tom told me something, maybe about two years ago." He explained, still grinning, "When he finally found a moment to breathe, some time to take his foot off the pedal, do you know what his favourite thing to do in those moments was?"

"Yep. Your family's pocket watch. He was always rewinding it, always making sure it was pinpoint accurate."

"He said that, aye. He then said that it was an excuse."

That almost shocked her. "An excuse? For what?"

"Because he didn't want to admit to you that he watched you when you were working. It's just…yeah, made me laugh, is all."

She didn't return the laugh and instead looked away, deep in thought. "I didn't…I didn't know."

"He loved being out there." Tyler went on, "Me and my little bro, we were alike. I don't think either of us could do anything else other than this life. Difference is, he always had something to come back to. That kept him sane, I think."

Nodding her agreement, Sam felt her vision blur. Taken aback, she felt for her eyes and came back with wetness on her fingertips. She hadn't even realised until that moment that she was crying.

Tyler sat there in silence as she composed herself, though he offered a sympathetic nod. For some time as her eldest child continued his investigation, the two of them sat there. Both sharing their grief, albeit in different ways.

"You kept him sane too, you know." She finally spoke.

He shook his head, "Doesn't change things. I'd be dead if it weren't for him. That's something I'll never be able to repay."

New Harmony, Utah

Wednesday 28th September 2016, 18:04 PM

For the longest time, Mike remained on the gravel floor outside the building, eyes squeezed shut. Derealization, Mike reminded himself, yet couldn't muster up the will to move in spite of his discomfort. For some time his thoughts and feelings were barely his own, like he was simply a spectator of his life.

What could have very well been hours passed had he not been wearing a watch, in plain view of his eyes before he sat up. His bones and muscles ached in protest and Mike winced at the pressed bruises he now had from the rocks below him.

Yet even as he now sat up, it didn't end; being underneath the shadow of the building, Mike felt flashes of the innards of the abandoned place through his mind. All around him, his surroundings seemed to twist and darken and his vision darkened, becoming too far away to be real.

Hold your hands together, Sam had taught him a week after they fled from New Harmony, and take deep breaths. What's your happiest memory?

A camping trip, Mike had answered immediately, with my mom and dad. Spencer and Miranda, I mean. It was our first proper outing, three weeks after they took me in.

Good. That's good. Latch on to it. Breathe, and remember. It'll pass, I promise you.

So that's what he did; for however long it took, Mike shut his eyes, held his hands together, and took deep breaths. He pictured himself that day in the national forest, still glum and angsty as he'd always been as a teenager. Especially so from carrying that guilt with him.

How even with all that weighing against him, Spencer and Miranda had treated him like their own. Giving him both care and trust that he'd thought would be impossible for them to give.

Once he reopened his eyes, he could feel his body no longer rebelling against him. Staring up at the sky in gratitude, Mike climbed back to his feet and looked around. Once he was sure he was still alone, his eyes fell once again on that building. Though he knew it to be unfair on himself, it came with a layer of shame. Shaking his head, Mike returned to his car and clambered in out of the Fall cold.

Relaxing himself, Mike knew he hadn't a clue where that had come from. Was it something in the air, like back at Fazbear Frights? He knew that it couldn't be, though. The ventilation back there had been a slow burn, creeping in on him. Up until he saw the layout of that place, he'd felt fine.

The layout, then. Mike hadn't recognised anything to do with the building itself, rather the layout. It made sense, as the building had been stripped of any identity, leaving it devoid of anything he could've recognised. Yet something had sparked something within him, something that must have been strong enough.

Or maybe you've finally lost your mind, a bitter part of him spoke in the recessives of his mind. In response, he did the only sensible thing and pushed it further into the shadows.

"So if it wasn't anything inside of the building," He mumbled to himself, "then it must've been the layout. The building itself."

Two hallways, leading down towards a centre room. That was an easy one, of course; Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The two doorways on the left and right, even the size of the room was close enough. Plenty of blindspots to boot. All of it made sense, apart from one detail.

Why in the world would that have sent me running? As he sat back in his seat, Mike dwelled on that a little longer. I worked in that place plenty of times. I got over it. I didn't feel it when Tom and I investigated the reboot pizzeria. I didn't feel it at Fazbear Frights. I moved past it. Hell, animatronics don't even scare me anymore; the normal ones, at least.

"So if it wasn't Freddy's," He spoke aloud again, "what was it?"

Then in spite of his efforts, that voice screamed its harsh words and he couldn't ignore it this time.

You know exactly what it is.

Dreams. Nightmares. Mike knew enough about basic psychology to know that they were spectres of your subconscious. It was interesting, in retrospect; there could be something that you hadn't thought about in years, so vague and ancient, that would rear its head in a dream for no particular reason.

Then you had lucid dreaming, a concept that seemed alien. Controlling your dreams, at least to some extent. As long as you avoided the occasional pothole, the chance of running into something bad was slim. If you did everything right, you would have an experience which seemed impossible.

Yet in the end, the truth remained that all it was, all it could be, was a dream. After all these years, Mike had seen ghosts and realities which would send him straight to the looney bin if he voiced them as fact. Even through the nightmares that came from his experiences, he always held the candle tight that it was still a dream.

So why was it, the moment he walked in that hallway and saw that room, had it felt like he had walked straight into one of those nightmares?

Not just any nightmare, but a chain of them in particular? Nightmares which had reared their ugly head a year ago, which had first come into his life in the aftermath of his brother's death?

Nightmares featuring a very specific cast of characters every time, all of whom seemed to twist and change until they settled on their terrifying looks? As if they were toying with him, experimenting until they found the optimal look for their misdeeds?

Nightmares which had gone on to return, revive their hunt for him, doing physical damage to him that had remained unexplainable?

Nightmares who had originated from a building just like the one he was standing in the shadow of at that exact moment?

As those thoughts breached their terrifying conclusion, Mike felt at his forehead and came back with sweat. For the second time that night, he performed the exercises taught to him desperately. Once he felt himself calm down again, he sat back in his seat and breathed in and out.

What now? He pondered to himself, knowing he had two options here; pull away from the building and go back home—perhaps to put away this case for good. If he'd learned anything from the last thirty minutes, his resolve was not quite as solid as he'd before thought.

Or he could get out of the car and go back inside this twisted building, never knowing what secrets he would unearth from its devilish grounds.

As he considered these next two moves, Mike knew he had to measure the chances that he was right about this. Any sane person would dismiss these beliefs, knowing that to even attempt to consider a dream to be anything but, was simply a fallacy.

Mike knew better, though. He had walked through the memories of dead children and ventured into the void to shepard their souls to an unknown sanctuary. Sanity was never even a consideration in his line of work.

So against his better judgement, Mike opened the car door and stepped back out. Heading to the car's trunk, he opened it and dug around until he found the six-pack of beer he'd bought before he set out earlier that day. Grabbing one of the five still remaining, he hesitantly opened it and drank three fifths of it.

Feeling the buzz filling his chest, Mike breathed in again and finally turned back to the building. With a bit of liquid courage now running through his system, he locked his car up again and went back around.

Mike climbed back up the ladder, went over to the skylight, and once again entered the abandoned complex. As they had been before, the halls were near pitch-black with the lack of lighting. Flicking his flashlight on, he entered the hallways and this time chose to go down the entrance to his right.

Once he reached the turn and found himself down the dusty hallway, Mike's eyes fell onto the left wall and felt a chill run through his spine. Broken glass windows, two to be specific, hung from the end of the wall. Getting closer to them, Mike looked through them and saw nothing. Eyebrows raised, he found a gap in the window that he could fit his hand through safely.

There's a space here, he realised. On the other side of the windows, there was a space just big enough to give the illusion that it was a normal window from a distance. Rather than it simply being blacked out, there was a gap in the wall.

Knowing he would have time to think on that later, Mike continued. He reached the room in the centre of the building and stepped back through, looking around it cautiously.

After a few moments of his body refusing to proceed, Mike grunted in annoyance and broke past the barriers. Taking one small step into the room, he expected to find monsters lurking in the darkness. Instead, it was simply a box-shaped empty room.

But looks can be deceiving. If Mike had learned anything during his time wrapped up in Freddy's, it was never this simple. Once his nerves allowed him to continue on, Mike patrolled the perimeter of the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

The layout of the room was a familiar, surreal thing. Not something he could mistake for something else. Biting his lip, Mike turned to the crevice towards the back of the room which he knew was once an inbuilt closet.

Once he was face-to-face with the closet, he looked around the corners and found nothing. Just as he was about to leave, his eyes spotted something against the wall. Narrowing his eyes, he got a better look and finally spotted the vertical line that ran down the centre of the wall, from ceiling to floor.

Feeling for the line, an ever-so-tight gap, he tried to pry at it but came out fruitless. Maybe that doesn't matter, he thought to himself as he turned to the other side of the room. Heading over to the back wall, Mike crouched down until he saw another crack in the concrete; another vertical line which ran along the wall, about his height.

After some time to think, Mike left the room and went back over to the first hallway he entered. Looking around, he saw the two cracks on either side of the wall, just like the other two. For a moment, his mind went back to a haunted house attraction his adoptive father had taken him to on Halloween, back in 1986. Basic, but he'd been gobsmacked by the way the effects had worked. Small crevices that allowed the actors to come and go.

Turning around, Mike's eyes fell onto the bookcase that had been stripped of its contents on the wall before the hallway, except for one lone dust-covered volume. He stepped over to it and noticed how the bookcase, rather than being pushed right against the wall, ran aligned with it.

It's inbuilt, Mike told himself. His attempt to move it brought nothing into fruition, yet he could feel a sense of progress. Thinking for a moment, his eyes drifted back to that lone book. Feeling almost silly for the idea, he reached for the book and pulled it.

Rather than coming off the bookshelf, the book resisted after being pulled a few inches. A large mechanical click drummed off the walls around him and with a protesting groan, the bookshelf pushed open like a door.

It revealed another room, this one square as well, but a flicker of his flashlight stopped him from venturing far. In the middle of the room was a hole, one that his quickly surmised to be a drop.

His body kept him paranoid, preventing him from getting too close to the edge. Aiming his flashlight down, he couldn't see the bottom of the drop.

It looks like an elevator shaft, he realised. Looking up, he could see the scavenged remnants of mechanisms hanging on the ceiling. Not quite big enough for an elevator. A dumbwaiter, maybe.

For some time, Mike continued to look down into the unknown depths. In another moment, down went Alice after it, Mike dwelled upon, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

Going down that hole would be a mistake, he knew that. Unless he was prepared, he was better off leaving it. With his mind made up, Mike turned from the hole and made his way back out of the building. As he returned to the car, he had a deep feeling emerge that he knew what he needed to do next.

Night had fallen by the time he returned to the estate leading to his home. After staring at the road that would lead there, he knew he couldn't ignore the hunch that was pestering him. Running through what he had learned back there, he knew he had found something more important than he knew.

So he pulled away from the estate and drifted around for a while, before ending up by the road leading towards the first building he had investigated. He knew that getting inside would be difficult, but something deep inside told him that it was the only way to confirm his worries.

Back through the cornfield he went, reaching the building faster than before in spite of his limited visibility. Once he was there, he moved the platform back and got up to the window. Standing as tall as he could, Mike took his camera and flashlight, angling both as best as he could to see inside.

For a few minutes he kept snapping photos, trying to see as far back as he could. Once he was satisfied, he once more returned to the platform and went back to his car. Still knowing that his night wasn't quite over. One more place to go.

As he returned to the estate, rather than pulling into the drive into his property, Mike went further into the estate until he reached the abandoned building which was the site of his greatest mistake. As he readied himself to enter, he recalled something that Carl had said last year when they prepared to survey the building.

Because you're talking about a night entry, Carl had warned Samantha when she'd been wanting to go there straight away, On a very notorious building that probably has dumb kids sneaking in every other night. Which means we'd either risk running into one or two, or someone will spot us, call the Police, and then we'll be running the risk of having them sniff around here.

Carl had been right, of course; in the situation they'd been in, the last thing they had needed was to attract the wrong sort of attention. Even so, Mike could feel his own situation spiralling and he knew he couldn't sleep on it.

Sorry Carl, Mike acknowledged, you'd be even angrier with me if you saw me right now. I'll be in and out, I promise.

With his mind set, he got out of the car and headed over to the abandoned Fredbear's Family Diner. All the while keeping an eye out for any onlookers, Mike reached the back door and felt almost bemused when he saw the boards had been replaced from when Carl had stripped them off.

Well, I came prepared. Taking his backpack off, Mike retrieved the small foldable crowbar from it and began to pry them off. Sure that he hadn't caused enough noise to be noticed, he opened the back door and stepped into the building.

As he walked inside, Mike couldn't see any difference from the place any more than when he'd last been there. Still just as barren as before, though at least he wasn't practically a walking corpse on this venture.

Against his better judgement, Mike wandered towards the old main dining area and stood in front of where the stage had once been. His own words rang through his head, more painful than any knife wound he'd ever taken.

Hey! Why don't we help him get a closer look? He'll love it!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mike tried to let the words wash through him and move on, yet he found himself rooted in place.

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

Sometimes he could imagine himself behind a one-way window, desperately banging to no avail, begging for his younger self to stop. Helpless as he would watch it all spiral.

No! I don't want to go!

How could he have continued after that? How could he have looked into his own little brother's innocent, hurt eyes, saw them pleading for a reprieve, and continued what he had done?

On three! One…two…

There were things Mike had long accepted, as the years had passed and he thought he was finally past the guilt he'd carried with him. Spencer Schmidt had taught Mike to forgive himself, but he knew by then that he didn't deserve such a gift. No matter what good Mike had done since then, he knew that Golden Freddy had been wrong.

Golden Freddy had told him that he was just one day away from hurting someone more deserving of life than he was. The truth was, that day had already come. Had his brother survived, he would've had every right to cut Mike out of his life completely once he'd grown up.

Sitting down cross-legged, Mike shut his eyes. "You were right. I'm a monster. A weak, pathetic monster."

Taking a breath, he opened his eyes again. "But I never intended what came after. What was done to me…what he did to all you…that, at least, I can fix."

A deep rage filled his body as he finally accepted the truth. The nightmares may not have been real last year, but they had been back then. Those nights he had been trapped, hunted by those things, had been real. For what nefarious purpose he did not understand, but he was close. He knew that the monster he had buried underneath Henry's house could be none other than the one used against him.

Somehow, in spite of the insanity that followed, there had been truth to the lie as just as reality to the dream.

We're one chapter away from the end of the act. If you're itching for the Funtime Animatronics to finally appear, don't worry; it's coming.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: In all honestly, it's gone pretty smooth for them so far; no major hiccups. They've not yet stumbled upon the pitfalls. Mike's discovery, as well as his further findings after the fact, is going to be a far bigger headache than he could imagine. You were right on the money about the sites being used to store animatronics, but it's the exact animatronics that had sent Mike spiralling. Now, whilst the Nightmares from the previous story which attacked Mike in the present day were certainly not entirely real, that might have not always been the case. After all, what is seen in shadows is easily misunderstood in the mind of a child.