Happy fifth birthday Five Nights at Freddy's, it's been a good five years of immense enjoyment and outright terror.
I was going to say this at the story's end, but now feels like a good enough time with it being FNAF's fifth anniversary.
I first got into FNAF when FNAF 1 was released and I watched Markiplier's playthrough of the game. I became a full time member when FNAF 3 dropped. Since then I've been watching gameplay, music, animation and theory videos nonstop. Game Theory has been a tremendous help in establishing the lore, as complex as it already is.
It was also around FNAF 3's release that I started to write this story, after seeing people write their own I decided to give it a go. I really didn't expect for it to get this big and to go on for so long, but I am glad that I took my time with it, given how the story and lore has evolved over the years. :-)
As usual, many thanks to both August Frost12 and Jack Darby The Son of Superboy for their reviews.
A huge thanks to RedEngineerTF2 and GhoticBunny99 for favouriting this story, we are approaching the halfway point.
Now this chapter was meant to have a song in it, like I've done in recent chapters, but I decided that the content alone should be more than enough to entertain you. I am pretty sure that you guys will be surpised or shocked when you read certain parts of this chapter and figure out what I am implying or foreshadowing.
Rest assured, things will eventually make sense, but until then I'll leave you to speculate. ;-)
I'll be sure to put a song in the next chapter, in fact I already have one lined up.
Enjoy. . .
Cloak and Dagger.
Chapter 40.
"Fascinating. . .what they have become."
William Afton from Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator.
Thoughts and memories tossed and turned, mixing together into a fine mess that suited Vincent's current state of mind.
He was still in the airship's cockpit, slumped forward in the chair, with his hands clasped together, giving off the appearance of being in deep contemplation.
His eyes were closed, with his facial expression being completely blank, and his breathing low and relaxed.
The gentle sound of soft music emitted from a small dancing figure that had risen out of a small, but highly decorated wooden box. It twirled in a graceful gesture, as it sat on the desk before Vincent.
He didn't react, but merely listen to the sweet, soothing notes that were to a degree able to calm his inner thoughts. His mind was fixed on trying to fully flesh out tomorrow's events, or at least what he intended to have happen.
Everything had to be perfect, like it had been before, nothing could be allowed to go wrong, and yet the possibility of it doing so deeply concerned him.
He was taking a lot of risks to pull this plan off, especially with the part that he was yet to play.
The Nightmares by comparison had a much easier job to undertake, although the role that Vincent would play could only be performed by him.
And it was a crucial role.
Everything had to go right. . .
The soothing sound of the music box calmed his thoughts enough for him to break off his intense mental session, as he opened his eyes and slumped back into his chair. He now found himself staring at three soft objects that were situated on his desk, alongside the music box.
Relics. . .that is all they ever were, being one of Vincent's few links to his past.
He stared at them longingly, not wishing to part with them in favour of anything else.
Alongside a few things, they were all he had left of his previous life. The majority of which were back at his house, but he had accepted that he couldn't take everything with him.
He knew that he wouldn't be coming back for them. . .
Overall, regardless of what happened to him, his legacy would live on in the safety of being untouched and uncorrupted by his actions.
They were pure and would stay that way, after all they been entrusted to good care when Vincent had left for the pizzeria a few days ago.
He knew that they weren't the real thing, in that he couldn't fully recreate who they were based on, they had flaws that he couldn't help but notice as he so longed to recreate what had been lost. Yet in the end it didn't matter.
He loved them regardless and wouldn't let any corruption befall his most treasured creations.
They were safe below ground, where memories sleep, anger wouldn't be restless, and secrets would keep.
His house might look like any ordinary home to any outsider, but what lay hidden underneath its foundations would shock anyone to their core.
Deep below ground another world existed, another side of himself that had been forged through immense hardship.
And the hardship had never left him, it was his personal cage, but it had to some extent become a mental home for him, just like his basement workshop had become a new physical home.
His basement workshop, where he had spent much of his time since setting it up in the mid nineteen eighties. Initially, it had been one room, but it had grown substantially over the decades as had the scope of his experiments when he put his engineering skills to the test.
Whilst the Fazbears were left in a mire of depression within that decaying pizzeria which they called home; he had been busy trying out the blueprints he had gained from Fazbear Entertainment's collapse.
Such beauty existed in the designs of the animatronics, but he lacked enough of the parts to make them and had to conserve what parts he had. He had attempted to build some of the animatronics, but he didn't get far with the projects, all of them ended up being disappointing by his standards.
He wasn't capable at building every animatronic in existence to utter perfection.
Still his skills had grown considerably, and he could always admire the level of details in the blueprints.
Some which he had taken from Henry Emily.
Well. . .actually he wasn't the one who had physically taken them out of Henry's possession.
He had got someone else to do that job for him. When his 'friend' had returned with the blueprints, Vincent was informed in quite direct terms that Henry had witnessed the act, but that he would forever question what he saw and therefore not bother them.
They had made sure that the trail was cold. . .
No one would believe the ramblings of a man suffering from the emotional trauma of losing his only child.
Henry had been a man of energy, creativity and his blueprints showed it.
His passion was undeniable, in a sense the second pizzeria was his masterpiece, sporting a number of his designs and even if some didn't make sense, the children loved them regardless.
He remembered when Henry unveiled some of his designs, including Lefty. . .his passion project.
April 1987, The New and Improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, Hurricane Utah.
Vincent stared at the blueprints sheet on the table, his hungry eyes absorbing in the detail and his face was one of genuine surprise, much to the amusement of the man standing next to him.
"I see you find the design for Music Man thought provoking Vincent, do tell me why?" Henry asked, giving the man a slap on the back.
The act instantly brought Vincent out of his trance.
"It's his face if anything Henry, the black eyes and the wide grin, he looks terrifying, especially if he is staring down at you," he replied, sounding rather unsure of the animatronic's design.
Henry chuckled as he traced the animatronic's outlines with his fingers.
"Well, that wasn't what I had intended when drawing him up, he does have pupils in the centre of his eyes."
Vincent just shook his head.
"Yeah, if you look close enough, can't imagine that many kids wouldn't want to get up close and personal with this guy," he muttered in a sarcastic manner.
Henry found his response to be funny, chuckling at the thought of the animatronic jump scaring a group of children.
"Well, if this place was a horror attraction, then in his current form Music Man would be an ideal mascot," he replied modesty, folding the blueprint sheet back up and placing it inside his trouser pocket.
From the corridor outside came the sounds of people groaning and something big being pushed.
Soon enough, David, Amy and Lauren appeared in the doorway, shoving Egg Baby on a roller and the effort seemed to be killing them if it were possible.
"Christ, I'm going to pull all the muscles in my body before we get this thing through the door," Amy moaned, falling forward onto the roller's handle to rest her tired limbs.
David and Lauren stopped as well, appearing to be exhausted.
"Why did we only remove it from the box, after taking it all the way inside and not doing it in the stage area?" David asked, resting against the roller's handle like Amy was doing.
"Beats me," Lauren added, seeming to be worn out.
The trio turned to see Henry and Vincent staring at them through the doorway.
"Henry, what exactly does this 'Egg Baby' thing do?" Lauren wearily asked.
Henry merely smiled and said.
"The answer is inside the egg that the mini baby is holding, but it'll be up for the kids to figure out."
"It still makes no sense to me Henry," Vincent muttered, not that Henry heard him because David, Lauren and Amy began groaning again as they restarted their efforts to push the huge prop forward.
"If we get this thing set up without breaking a rib, the drinks are on me," David grumbled, shoving the roller forward.
"Fazbear Entertainment was nice enough to greenlight the creation and presentation of several of my designs, I just wish that they were more willing to take a risk," Henry remarked, turning back to face Vincent.
Vincent smiled a little, feeling a little bit humoured by Henry's words.
"You know how Fazbear Entertainment likes to operate Henry, they want to play it safe, cut corners and keep as much money to themselves should shit hit the fan."
"Despite how much investment they sank into this place. . ."
Henry chuckled as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled a small piece of paper.
"Well, I can't see them rejecting this little wonder," he said, his green eyes gleaming with pride as he unravelled it.
Placing it on the table, Vincent's own eyes lit up with renewed interest. The outlines were small and basic, with a few notes surrounding the animatronic's body, but its contents were truly astounding.
Its design was human, not the usual animal theme and it possessed many interesting features.
"This is my pride and joy," Henry announced.
He exhaled a sigh of confidence.
"Lefty, I aim to have him made before Sammy's birthday next year, he is rather complex, so I need time to make him perfect for the limelight."
In that instant Vincent tore his gaze away from the blueprints to look at Henry in surprise.
"Wait, you've called him Lefty?"
Henry smiled, enjoying Vincent's shock.
"I intend to give him one eye, to give the guy an identity among the rest of my creations."
He placed his hand on the blueprints sheet, carefully tracing the outlines with his fingers.
"This Vincent," he stated with pride.
"Is my masterpiece. . ."
"He can dance, accept song requests and even socially interact with guests to make him seem even more real."
He smiled as he traced Lefty's sole pupil, that being his left eye, hence the name.
"I haven't even started laying down the endoskeleton for this guy, but I can already tell that Sammy is going to love him."
Henry then turned to face Vincent; their eyes locked.
"Didn't you have some ideas for animatronics?" he asked curiously. Vincent let out a deep sigh, knowing all too well where Henry was heading.
"Yes, four or five in particular, just some slow baked aspirations that I have been thinking about, I doubt that I'll ever make them, but a man can dream."
"Any design plans?" Henry enquired, seeking an answer that Vincent knew he couldn't ignore.
Once something had Henry's interest, he wouldn't let go of it, much like a dog with a bone.
"I do have some blueprints for a few animatronics that I scrapped years ago if you need some inspiration," Henry remarked. The man's tender nature only expressed itself even further, something that Vincent had come to expect from Henry over the years.
Vincent rolled his eyes casually.
"Well, I have been thinking about giving them a circus or clown theme, but nothing revolutionary."
"Just something to keep me busy, you know, ever since. . ."
His voice trailed off, he could sense his eyes starting to grow distant, his throat clenched itself shut. Mentally, he fought against the wave of emotions that were now surging towards the surface of his mind.
Doors had been unlocked that he couldn't quite slam shut.
Dread. . .
Fear. . .
Anguish. . .
Sorrow. . .
Depression. . .
Anger. . .
He attempted to force it all down with pure stoicism, taking all of his mental strength to subdue it as many heart wrenching memories accompanied the wave.
Like a high-speed train roaring down the tracks, the sound of four memories exploded into life with Vincent's vivid memory recreating every single wretched detail for his own torment.
The sounds of car tyres screeching and the strong smell of burning rubber. . .
Something getting crushed in a sicking fashion.
A rope hanging limply from the ceiling and a knocked over chair.
A lifeless body on a bed amidst the sound of ambulance sirens.
All of it, he couldn't let that get to him now, dam Henry for pushing the issue.
Henry himself seemed to recognise Vincent's aura of mental distress; the man's green eyes, now turning watery, revealed a gathering storm underneath.
Henry's own eyes slowly widen as he reached his hand out to Vincent, seeing the man's agony that his stoic face could barely contain.
"I'm sorry Vincent, I didn't mean to push so close to home for you, obviously you would want to cherish their memory somehow."
Yet Vincent raised his own hand, seeming to reject Henry's outstretched one.
"No, it's just the association with them, it's been hard since then, but I am coping."
He flashed a forced smile.
"Besides, doing this job keeps me busy, time heals all wounds as they say."
Yet Henry was not convinced, his eyes remained the same, yet his tone became low.
"Vincent," he muttered slowly.
"Are you sure that you don't want to take some time off?"
"I know that you stayed on despite what happened in 1983, and even when we were rocked by that missing children's' incident, but don't run yourself into the ground in an attempt to ignore the pain."
"Please take some time off, go to widow counselling if things become too hard to handle, I know that you are a stoic person, but it is understandable to grieve after such a traumatic loss."
Vincent didn't reply immediately, his initial response was to ward Henry off, but there was no need to.
He was only trying to help him.
Only he didn't need help. . .
His path was set, and he would not deviate from it.
Nor could he change it if he wanted to.
"Henry. . ."
Vincent sighed before continuing.
"I understand your concern, but I am handling it in my own way, and this animatronic interest of mine, it's merely a coping mechanism."
He was being honest in that regard, getting to work on his hobby was keeping his mind distracted. Although at the same time he had already built them, not that he would tell Henry though.
He like to have his secrets.
Yet he would keep improving them, perfection, he would make them perfect, so the illusion could be maintained.
It was like a never-ending dance, forever improving, after repeated trial and error.
He would dance to forget the pain.
Dance to forget. . .
"I am fine Henry, trust me, I am ok."
He wanted to narrow his eyes at Henry to enforce his point, but he stopped, knowing that it would only increase Henry's suspicions that he truly needed help.
"I need this."
"Please trust me?"
Slowly Henry lowered his hand, his gaze softened slightly.
"Vincent, if things become too difficult and you want help, then I can extend a lifeline."
His words stirred Vincent's thoughts, he knew why Henry was offering, being the only person who truly knew what had happened in his past.
Yet he didn't need his help, for things had been set in motion that could not be undone. It was too late to turn back, and the satisfaction to be gained at the end was just too tempting.
"Henry, thank you for the offer, really it is very generous of you, but I am coping quite well."
"Those tragic events just need time to heal, but keeping myself busy is one way to numb the pain."
Henry then completely dropped his stance and abandoned his suspicions.
He sighed.
"Ok, Vincent, if you are sure enough, but my offer will always be there if you need it."
Vincent smiled heartily at him.
"Thank you, Henry, it's nice to have a friend in this world."
"DAD!"
"DAD!"
Suddenly a high-pitched voice erupted into being, followed by footsteps quickly coming down the hallway outside. Henry quickly turned to the table, grabbing and folding up his blueprints for Lefty, before putting them into his upper shirt pocket.
He then motioned to Vincent for him to remain quiet about the matter, and the man merely placed a finger to his lips, giving a small, but knowing smile.
He knew to be quiet.
Soon a child, a boy, sporting brown hair and blue eyes suddenly appeared in the doorway, having run a considerable distance, judging by his tired expression.
"Dad, I just beat my old high score on Mid-Night Motorist!" he shouted.
Henry turned and gave his son a big beaming smile, bringing him into a bear hug.
"That's great Sammy!" he exclaimed, sounding very delighted.
"If only your son could crack the mystery of Egg Baby," Vincent muttered to himself, although no one heard him.
"Or is it another present for him Henry?" he mentally whispered, eyeing the way which Henry dotted on his son.
On the surface he presented a smile of amusement at the interactions between father and son, it was genuinely a nice scene.
Yet beneath his smile and warm eyes, lay a hissing viper of jealousy, posed to strike. Behind his pupils, he glared at the two coldly, watching with interest as it stoked the fires of resentment within him.
"I got all the special items as well!" Sammy exclaimed to which Henry tussled his hair.
That only further served to fuel Vincent's discontent.
He felt it raging within him, like a wildfire that burned everything it touched with a deliberate malicious intent.
Life wasn't fair. . .
And he hated that.
He could feel the bloodlust slowly rise amidst the flames of his jealousy.
The scene before him was actually making him feel sick.
He almost wanted to . . .
No. . .
Doing something reckless and rash now would only land him in hot water or worse.
It was better to wait and plan his next move in detail.
He had the time to do so, all the time in the world in fact.
Henry ruffled Sammy's brown hair.
"Fancy trying to uncover the mystery of Egg Baby?" He asked to which Sammy eagerly nodded.
"Yes, absolutely!" he replied excitedly and with that he ran out of the room, towards the main stage area.
"Try not to disturb other people's work Sam!" Henry yelled back as the boy's footsteps faded away as quickly as they had come.
He sighed heartily.
"He already thinks that this place is heaven on Earth," he muttered, turning to face Vincent.
Vincent merely kept his smile on, as his inner thoughts slowly died down like a dying ember.
"Well you know the iconic slogan, 'where fun and fantasy come to life'," Vincent remarked humorously. Henry chuckled at Vincent's words, patting his upper shirt pocket where he kept Lefty's blueprints.
"Well you and I help to make that real, or at least seem real."
Vincent stepped forward, passing Henry by and heading for the doorway.
"Like I said, this job keeps me occupied," he said warmly.
"Soon they'll be sending Freddy and his lot over here, alongside the new entertainers that they have got lined up."
Henry nodded, seeming to look cautious for once.
"Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy won't like being side-lined, but they can't afford to keep two places open, not with the investment that they've sunk into this place."
Vincent's smile faltered a little.
"Yeah, given that your animatronics are going to be responsible for putting them out of a job entirely, in the long run, these 'Toys' will be the least of their frustrations."
In truth, he couldn't be happier to see their disappointed faces when their optimism would be dashed to pieces upon being informed that they weren't here to be the frontrunners like they use to be.
"We'll cross that bridge when it comes Vincent," Henry muttered, patting the man on the back as he followed him out of the room.
He then remarked.
"As far as Fazbear Entertainment is concerned, everything is working as intended."
Vincent laughed, shaking his head and said.
"Well sticking their heads in the sand is standard company policy."
However, having a company as shady as Fazbear Entertainment had helped him to keep under the radar. Something that he could always exploit if they didn't change their habits anytime soon.
"True, true," Henry replied modestly.
He turned to gaze down the hallway towards the main stage area.
"Well, I better check to see if David, Amy and Lauren have successfully set up Egg Baby right and to make sure that Sammy isn't trying to rig the games."
"You really think that he would do that?" Vincent asked, he was genuinely curious in Henry's answer. Sammy didn't seem to be like the type of kid that would try to cheat.
Henry smiled mischievously, as he turned back to face Vincent.
"If he has cheated, then I have to fix the fault to avoid having other kids exploiting it, and it is not as easy as it sounds."
Then his smile dropped, and his gaze soften once more with his eyes looking sincere.
"I suppose that you will be checking on the prop suits in storage then?" he asked curiously.
Vincent nodded slightly, giving Henry a small smile.
"Yes, I have to make sure that everything is accounted for, as I need to fill in a checklist on the items in storage before officially finishing for today."
Henry seemed to nod, although behind his warm eyes Vincent could easily see that he was monitoring him for any sign of distress.
"Well, you look after yourself Vincent," he said casually.
"There's always light at the end of the tunnel."
And with that he turned and left, heading down the hallway towards the main stage area, leaving Vincent on his own.
The sound of Henry's footsteps faded into the distance as Vincent found himself staring into nothingness.
Slowly his hands turned into fists, and the soft expression of his eyes shifted into a more serious gaze that suited his inner mood. Henry's optimism was far too idealistic for his own good, and yet somewhere deep inside himself, Vincent actually worried about it. . .but to an extent of course.
There was no light at the end of his personal tunnel, there was blood on his hands that he could never wash off. He was already too far gone, and he didn't really care anymore.
Life isn't fair, so why should he be.
All he could do now was to keep going with this long running scheme of his.
He would sink Fazbear Entertainment into the ground, but his real target were the Fazbears themselves.
He needed time to work out how this establishment operated before making any serious move.
Time was his greatest ally it seemed these days, as he watched everyone go about their own business. Meanwhile he acted like a wolf in sheep's clothing, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Internally he smiled at the prospect, remembering the satisfaction he earned as he towered over the children's corpses, with their blood dripping from his knife, as he had slaughtered them like lambs back at the previous pizzeria.
The joy and bloodlust were overwhelming, rushing through his body like a tidal wave that gave him his happiest day.
The power he felt that day, he needed more, finally he was the one in charge, dictating a person's fate like he was God.
And he got the result he wanted, but he had already accepted the consequences of his actions.
To him it was only fair considering how life had treated him.
The Fazbears would be here soon enough. . .
They would probably hope that they had left the chaos of their old home behind.
No. . .it had merely followed them.
His inner smile grew to the point where if expressed he would look like a complete madman.
He would drag them down into never-ending despair and watch it consume them.
That would be his happiest day. . .to see everything go up in flames, metaphorically speaking of course.
He had a good idea on how to bring this place down and it would be tragic, but life wasn't fair after all, so why bother caring for anyone else.
Feeling his twisted inner smile force its way to the surface, Vincent turned in the direction that Henry had just gone.
"I am sorry Henry, what I intend to do will destroy you, but if you had gone through what I have, then you would at least understand why I did it," he whispered softly under his breath.
"They have to suffer, and one member in particular needs to understand that actions have consequences, as I am sure my own will one day."
"Yet I want to have my happiest day before that happens, so don't hold it against me, even though you probably will."
"But I am beyond the point of caring about anything or anyone else, save for my masterpiece."
"It will be beautiful when it is finally finished, and only then. . .will I accept my fate."
Then he turned away and headed towards the storage room, as all physical trace of his twisted mentality disappeared to be replaced with a blank expression of boredom, like all the other workers here. Yet internally he kept on smiling, relishing the thought when he could bring this wretched place crashing down.
He just needed time to figure out a moment of opportunity.
"As you say Henry. . .everything is working as intended."
"But for my purposes only. . ."
Present Day
Henry Emily. . .
Where was he now?
The loss of a child could split a parent's life in two, divided into two different worlds, one which was nothing but happiness, love everlasting and promise for the future. The other being cold, grey and broken with nothing but a corrosive desire to somehow go back to the old world.
Henry was no different for as long as Vincent had known him, but the spark in his eyes no longer existed when Vincent saw him for the last time. . .at Sammy's funeral.
They had a coffin, but no body to bury it with.
Was Henry even still alive or had he topped himself over the loss of his son?
If he had done the latter, then the blame entirely rested with Vincent, and he accepted that.
He had taken Sammy from Henry, and indirectly he would have taken another life, if Henry had committed suicide, even though it was not his main aim.
Henry's death, as well as those of the eleven children were. . . collateral.
He did get a bloodlust from it, a sweet satisfaction from inflicting the pain. The moment he drove his knife in he was lost in the throes of sadism with his psychotic smile and the mad glint in his eyes.
The power over life and death was addictive and to hold it in his hands was thrilling.
It was like a thin tight rope that one could so easily fall from.
Although living on the edge certainly had its benefits. . .
Like he told Nightmare Foxy, he had grown to love the feeling of deciding who lived and who died. When he was in the act, he didn't want to let go of the feeling, because in a strange sense, it numbed him. It numbed him from the chronic emotional pain that had been eating away at him for years, decades even given the length of time since. . .
Since. . .
Suddenly and instinctively Vincent burst out of his mental bubble and reached for one of the soft objects that sat on the cockpit desk. Gripping it tightly he brought it close to his chest, hugging it like it was a life raft.
Mentally, he suppressed the vivid images that were rising from his subconscious, some were happy, others were sad.
Yet all of his memories collectively led to a tragic ending.
In order to cope he had to mentally divide his life into two eras, the past and the present because he was a different person back then. He could feel the memories aching to be relive, but he held them in check, slowly forcing them down as he gripped the soft object tightly.
Bit by bit, the emotional wave subsided, as he hid inside the equivalent of a mental bunker, waiting for the storm to pass him by.
Despite his lure towards sadism when the bloodlust took hold, he did give the children a quick death, a simple slit across the throat or a solid stab to the chest and they knew no more.
He called it mercy, there was no need to prolong the pain any more than he felt that it needed to be.
Well. . .it was never quite as simple as that with all the blood the children's deaths created, but he had always cleaned up the mess and did his best to leave no trace of his involvement behind.
He was very thorough in his clean up.
In the end, the killing of children was a means to an end, despite the immense joy and satisfaction that it brought him. He always had a much bigger goal in mind, even though his methods were completely unacceptable.
He had Henry's blueprints for all of his animatronics with him, he had even made copies to ensure that the knowledge he gained could be preserved.
From the blueprints and files that he gathered; he had been able to locate the warehouse of endoskeletons that were intended for the new animatronics, that were to herald the future expansion of the company.
Instead, he found a new use for them as his servants, and they had remained so to this day.
He had tried to replicate some of the animatronics from the blueprints, but they didn't work so well, forcing him to terminate the projects and reuse the material for other needs.
And those needs were mind bending experiments, revealing things that could break man's understanding of their world.
Dark things, that were best left buried.
Secrets that were best left undisturbed, but he couldn't unknow them now, as they were deeply engrained into his memory.
Now that the emotional wave had passed, he slowly placed the soft object back on the desk, alongside the other two. He knew that the Nightmares would be back soon after making the opening move.
He just hoped that they didn't go too far in their sadism, and somehow kept an open mind on things.
Hopefully their near-death experience back at the factory had driven some sense into them, making them much more cautious than they otherwise might have been.
Reality had certainly given them a slap in the face. . .or at least it should have done.
Actually, a punch in the face was a better way to describe it.
Looking at the three objects and the small music box, Vincent sighed deeply. Now was not the time to be focusing on the past, the present mattered more and he knew it.
Why else would he still be playing this complex game?
He reached over and closed the music box's wooden lid, causing the dancing figure to collapse downwards. Once the box closed shut, the music instantly stopped, only the sound of the airship's four turbines spinning away could be heard.
Rising from his chair, Vincent gathered the soft objects together, opened a drawer in the cockpit's desk and placed them inside. He didn't do the same for the music box however, rather he held onto it in his hands, tightly gripping it.
Turning around to face the cockpit door, Vincent knew that things would soon be coming to a head. All he had to do was keep a strong hold on how these next events played out.
He had been excellent at controlling events in the past, masterful even, otherwise he wouldn't be alive right now.
However, things had gotten more complex lately. . .and you cannot control everything.
It was a harsh truth and Vincent had long since reasoned that retaining the element of surprise is what had allowed him to get so far.
Retreating from his own thoughts, Vincent stepped forward and pushed the cockpit door wide open, revealing the living room compartment, or rather where the Nightmares slept. Alongside numerous mechanical and electrical equipment that kept the airship flying.
Walking forward, he could see the Nightmares themselves, still asleep on their makeshift beds. The ups and downs of their chests as they breathed in and out indicated that they were alive, but lost in a deep sleep.
Supposedly, when they went out on one of their 'night trips' or back to Limbo, their bodies would go limp, acting as if it were in a coma, undergoing a dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile their spirits would be flying about somewhere, it was in effect an out of body experience.
Heading through the room, bypassing many endoskeletons that were fully occupied with their current task of monitoring the airship's systems, being too busy to notice him. Some walked and others crawled along the floor like ants, not that Vincent cared, whatever got them to their objective the quickest would work for them.
He paused at the foot of Nightmare Bonnie's bed, seeing her lying down on it in the same manner that bodies were laid down in a morgue.
He knew that from personal experience.
For a while, he stared at the female Nightmare, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath.
Sometimes Vincent would admit to himself that he was surprised with getting as far as he had. In addition to knowing many strange things about the supernatural and the unknown.
Admittedly the existence of such knowledge scared him to an extent, knowing that he wasn't the biggest predator on the block, and that something like a Nightmare did actually exist. From his experience, they certainly lived up to the definition of the term.
Things would be very bad if he was on the receiving end, and thankfully they were on the same side. Even though he knew nothing about their existence prior to meeting them in person.
As things turned out, they contacted him, coming right out of nowhere, with their communications being one sided. Slowly Vincent's green eyes shifted from Nightmare Bonnie to the others, watching them sleep.
"They should be back soon, I just hope that they didn't take things too far," he mentally muttered.
Suddenly it was as if Vincent's wish had been granted, for Nightmare Foxy rose fully upright, opening his eyes, looking somewhat dizzy as he gazed about his surroundings.
Then Nightmare Freddy rose up slowly, waking himself up as he slumped forward, looking a little bit distorted.
Nightmare Chica and Bonnie also woke up, yawning as they pushed themselves upright. They seemed to have emerged from a deep sleep as Vincent suspected and were yet to fully register their surroundings.
Then Nightmare Chica clutched her head, seeming to be struggling to reconnect with reality. She had a painful expression on her face, the surrounding lights and sounds were probably overloading her senses.
"So," Vincent began, sounding curious and giving off a casual posture.
"Did you get your message across?"
Nightmare Foxy instantly looked in his direction, cocking his head to one side, but he smiled, seeming to recognise Vincent. He wasn't being affected by the same problems as Nightmare Chica was.
"We did, it was executed perfectly," he said, sounding rather proud and pleased with their achievement.
"Well. . ." Nightmare Bonnie remarked slowly, seeming to disagree.
"I wouldn't use the word perfectly, Balloon Boy would have died at the hands of the former nightguards, had we not intervened to 'save' him."
"I thought that was the plan, to let him get close to death, scaring the life out of him and then snatch him out from their grasp?" Nightmare Foxy asked, turning to face Nightmare Bonnie with a confused expression.
"That was the plan N-Foxy," Nightmare Bonnie replied modestly.
"Although granted we may have cut it too close, but still we got what we wanted and hopefully, they will be forced to accept our offer and come running."
"They will obviously sense a trap, but they clearly want answers. . .knowledge is an addictive thing," Vincent muttered, now strolling between the beds.
"So, your target was Balloon Boy, I imagine that you recreated the animatronics whose blueprints I gave you?"
Nightmare Bonnie sighed confidently, as if she was relishing the memory.
"Yes, nearly every single one, the Rockstars, Mediocre Melodies, Music Man, Funtime Chica, El Chip, Candy Cadet, and those Candy and Cindy animatronics were all there to play their part."
"They were fun to influence, gave the boy quite a scare, but Lefty undoubtably stole the show."
"Aye, lassie, he did, stole it completely, N-Freddy puppeteer him good," Nightmare Foxy interjected, chuckling to himself at the memory.
Nightmare Freddy in classical fashion, adopted his smug tone as he spoke.
"It was fun to watch the fear dance in his eyes, I think he was mostly too terrified to move, until I used Lefty's strings to grab him."
"He was well behaved Vincent, did everything we requested, and he will remember it for a long time."
However. . ."
The Nightmare's expression changed to one of seriousness, his smile completely vanished.
This switch between his moods was a noticeable change in his personality since the incident at the factory.
Maybe Vincent had also got his second wish, that reality would beat the Nightmare's ego, and force him to adapt.
"We told him why we are chasing him and the others, and why Tommy cannot move on."
Vincent's own eyes also went serious in their expression, narrowing even, but didn't go dark or anything that suggested he was annoyed with their conduct.
"His response?" he asked directly to which Nightmare Freddy responded with.
"At first he thought that we had confessed a critical weakness when we revealed our connection to Tommy. However, he was deeply shocked when we told him that in order for Tommy to move on, they all need to die, that the slate must be wiped clean."
"As a result, the act of doing so would grant us our freedom, breaking the chains that currently bind our fates to his."
Nightmare Freddy gestured with his claw like hands as he spoke, his tone still being serious, not losing its edge.
"Understandably, he didn't want to accept the truth that he had to die in order to free a child's soul, but it is what it is."
"No doubt he should have delivered that news to the others, and I can only imagine that they aren't taking the revelation all too well."
"Well, that is to be expected, especially when you've spent your entire life framing yourself as the victim," Nightmare Chica remarked, seeming to have largely recovered from the side effects of her deep sleep.
"I think that deep down, the Fazbears knew that they weren't victims, not really, having literal skeletons in their closets," Vincent remarked plainly, turning about on the spot.
"They all knew, but, mainly Freddy and maybe Toy Freddy as well, but certainly the Puppet knew it the most out of all of them. The first two because they were the heads of their respective groups and felt that the responsibility of the act fell to them."
Vincent continued, his tone now being direct.
"Puppet knew because she had placed the dead children's souls into the Fazbears in the first place, and therefore gave them the opportunity to go on a killing spree."
"You four brought the nightguards they murdered into play, that blast from the past should have fully ruptured their sense of safety, even though they were killed decades ago."
Vincent smiled a little, there was a mischievous and yet sinister look in his eyes.
"The past never dies it seems. . ."
His words got a small smile from all four Nightmares, their eyes glowed a little, their sadism had been kindled.
"We are still here; we're proof enough as are the nightguards, BB was terrified to see them in the flesh," Nightmare Foxy muttered, his brownish red eyes glowed with amusement.
"They were a complete surprise, and they took full advantage of it."
"Not that we would actually let them kill BB. . .not yet at least."
Vincent exhaled, mentally recalling a past moment, before speaking.
"The issue with covering up the death of each nightguard was always a source of constant worry for them, fearing that the bodies might eventually be found with them being exposed as the murderers, knowing full well what would come next."
"Obviously the dead nightguards want revenge for their deaths, and we can provide them with the opportunity."
"We will decide when that opportunity should be though, although I wonder if having been exposed to their own bloodlust, they may attempt to actually take physical control of their bodies and literally dig themselves out of their graves?"
"There's no need to worry about that possibility Vincent, when we 'stole' BB from their grasp, we had a sharp word with them about what would happen next," Nightmare Bonnie said plainly, stretching her arms and legs, feeling the bones click.
"They know that they have to wait, although they clearly hated the idea, but they possess no power of their own," Nightmare Chica muttered casually.
She brushed her messy dirty blonde hair aside, before continuing.
"They were only there because we brought them into BB's dream, all this time since their deaths they had been wandering around Limbo in a fit of rage and agony, completely directionless."
"And are they there now?" Vincent asked curiously, turning round to face her.
"Yes, they'll be back in Limbo now and there they will stay, unable to find their own way out," Nightmare Foxy stated with confidence.
He bent his neck left and right, testing out his muscles.
"We can call upon them again, when it is required."
"Good, I fear that they would become a wild card if allowed to run free," Vincent replied, seeming to be pleased with the Nightmare's explanation.
"They haven't been able to dig themselves out of their graves all this time, and if they cannot get out of Limbo and actually take control of their bodies, then they shouldn't cause us too much trouble."
"I hate having to deal with any lingering threads," he muttered under his breath, quiet enough that the Nightmares didn't actually hear him.
He then turned and started walking towards the back end of the airship, where his own room was located.
"Anyway, I'll be heading for bed, with it being one or two in the morning, now that you four are back, all we have to do is wait until the afternoon."
Then Nightmare Chica called out.
"How do you know about Freddy and the others murdering the nightguards, and that they covered it all up?"
Vincent stopped in mid step; her question had admittedly caught him unaware. He lowered his head, but instead of wearing a blank face, he smiled with his eyes glinting, seeming to give off a knowing expression.
Slowly he turned around to face Nightmare Chica, holding up one of his arms, revealing his watch tracker.
With his other free hand, he tapped it lightly with his fingers.
"Secrets N-Chica, secrets that will be revealed soon enough, although I am sure that you can guess as to how I came to know," he said confidently.
"You like to have your secrets, don't you?" Nightmare Bonnie enquired mischievously with her bluish purple eyes glinting.
"Yes, I do," Vincent replied in an amused tone.
Then his eyes narrowed, becoming serious in their expression as did his tone.
"It is why I have kept myself below the radar for so long, I was in this game for the long haul."
Then a thought occurred to him, related to a certain set of animatronics.
"That reminds me, I'm curious that you requested to have the only proper animatronic suits ever made shipped to Limbo, why exactly?" he asked, digging into his memory.
"The ones that were designed to look like animals and bore the Originals' names."
"You said that you wanted them for back up or future use, correct?"
"Back up really, so yes future use, think of those suits as an insurance policy for us," Nightmare Freddy replied, folding his arms.
His tone was casual, but his eyes were serious, those dark red pupils hadn't really shifted from a cold expression since he had dropped his smug tone.
"Another means to completing our goal, should things ever go south with this enterprise."
"You doubt our chances of success N-Freddy?" Vincent enquired, he didn't sound threatening, but there was something of an under tone of seriousness in his voice. As if he was insulted that the integrity of his capabilities was being questioned.
He was now staring at Nightmare Freddy, awaiting an answer.
"No, just thinking ahead, should the worst outcome ever happen," Nightmare Freddy muttered, but he diverted his eyes away from Vincent's gaze.
He didn't wish to create tension; it wouldn't serve anything. Yet his dark red eyes were serious, and his face had now hardened.
"Our experiences in the past have influenced our thinking, there are a few ways to kill us Vincent, only you and the Fazbears know that, not that we would ever make it easy."
He continued, and the expressions of the other Nightmares had also changed. Facially they expressed a strong sense of understanding with Nightmare Freddy's words, but their eyes withheld a deep presence of fear.
That was a rare emotion to see among their kind, and there would be a very good reason for them to show it.
"We like to have a fall back, our first attempt to gain vessels into the real world ended in utter failure. . .you know the story."
Vincent seemed to nod slowly, trying to remember the exact details of that incident.
They had come very close to pulling it off without a hitch, but then they turned up and ruined everything.
It was the equivalent of having the entire rug pulled out from underneath your feet.
Because of their unexpected setback, the Nightmares had to seriously rethink their options of pursuing their goal of gaining complete freedom from Tommy.
And that led to them encountering Vincent, and although things got more complicated, they were successful in the end.
They had gained actual bodies.
Yet the Nightmares' past experiences in the nineteen eighties with the unknown had left something of a scar on them. It was a mental dent in their collective armour that had not been revisited since their brush with death back at the factory in East Chicago.
Nothing can stay buried forever, and revisiting the memory had shocked the Nightmares after spending so much of their lives dominating over a traumatised child. The long period of having no immediate threats had allowed their confidence to restore itself. Plus, having a better understanding of how to avoid being noticed was the prime reason for their smug and condescending attitude.
They risked becoming complacent. . .no, they already had become complacent. Yet when they had told BB about their weakness, it was a risky move, but they understood their own weakness to a much greater degree than they did before.
It was a managed risk.
"I remember being informed about the incident, it had a lot of potential if it had succeeded, but you lot apparently cut it too close," Vincent muttered, mentally revisiting the conversations when he enquired into the Nightmares' past.
"It was unexpected what happened," Nightmare Bonnie replied, her voice being quiet, as she seemed to mentally revisit her experience of the incident.
"Although in a way, we did gain a vital understanding of how to travel between Limbo and here, plus we gained what would later become an essential component for the machine that you helped to build."
She chuckled slightly and her gaze soften considerably.
"In some way, it was a blessing in disguise."
"Hardly lassie," Nightmare Foxy retorted, he strongly disagreed with a visible expression of annoyance.
"It was a vicious fight for survival, that's what it was, and we only just won, or at least forced a stalemate."
"Yeah, it was a chaotic fight, everything was happening all at once, and we barely made it out in one piece," Nightmare Chica added, coming in on Nightmare Foxy's side.
"You four sure do have long memories," Vincent commented in amusement, catching their attention.
"We have good reasons to have them, just like you do," Nightmare Freddy replied casually, his eyes were still serious, although they had softened a bit.
"A long memory is a useful tool in our 'profession'."
Vincent chuckled; he could see the humour in Nightmare Freddy's words.
"I suppose so," he muttered in agreement.
He then sighed, before turning to leave again.
"See you four later today, since it is technically morning already."
And with that he left them to amuse themselves. Heading towards his small bedroom located at the back of the airship, he passed more endoskeletons on the way, as the latter blindly committed themselves to their preprogramed tasks.
Nightmares Bonnie, Chica and Foxy fell back into open debate over the exact circumstances of the past incident that had almost got them their first human vessels, and not to mention killed. Yet Nightmare Freddy continued to stare in the direction that Vincent had gone, watching him walk away.
"We have fall back plans Vincent because we need to be prepared for every possible outcome, we are deeply afraid of death," he mentally muttered to himself.
His dark red eyes closed for a moment.
"We cut it far too close on two occasions, and we cannot have any lingering threads that could endanger us."
"The first one was bad, but the second one was hell, and I wasn't even aware of it at the time, being locked in deep sleep."
"The four of us have been entrusted to maintain our family's security from the Fazbears, or anyone else for that matter."
Then his eyes reopened, revealing his dark red pupils now to be narrowed, expressing a cold look.
"There cannot be any room for serious error. . .not even from you Vincent Afton."
Vincent could feel the weight of sleep upon his mind as he opened the door to his bedroom.
He craved the sweet embrace of slumber, even though staying up into the morning was a normal habit for him; having started doing so since the 1980s, when his hobbies would carry him into the early hours, making him lose all track of time.
However, the knowledge he gained was worth the effort. Sitting down on the bed, he resisted the urge to lay back on the covers, as tempting as it may be.
Something had caught his eye.
A box. . .
To be fair his bedroom despite being small did hold several boxes, each one containing something that served his purpose one way or another. There was also a small desk with a chair for him to use, if he wished to examine something in much more detail.
And he needed to use it right now, as he forced himself to stand. Still gripping the wooden music box tightly in one hand, he walked over to the metal box in question. He grabbed it with his free hand, instantly feeling its weight as he struggled to pull it along with him towards the desk.
Sitting down on the chair, he placed the music box to one side, before turning and lifting the heavy box up and placing it neatly on the desk before him.
It was grey in colour, sporting two brass locks on its front and being fairly long in its length, not to mention big as well. Running across its surface from the back to the front were two thick brown lines dotted with steel bolts, giving the box a distinct look.
It was locked, but Vincent knew where the key was, as he dug into his trouser pocket and brought it out.
Upon unlocking both locks, he lifted the lid up, revealing the treasures that lay within.
His green eyes widen with great interest, as he gazed down upon another one of his creations, maybe his second or third most favourite.
The SpringBonnie animatronic/suit. . .from Fredbear and Friends.
It had been dismantled into separate parts, but not broken as he had intended it to be.
The iconic suit, plus the knife he was holding, and the sinister yet cold expression on his face would be the last thing the children would see before he killed them.
He had kept it in his possession for all these years, and he hadn't worn it since 1987, yet it looked brand new as the day it was made.
Slowly, he lifted the head out, being extra careful not to drop it as it was quite heavy. Yet it looked so realistic, being the perfect recreation of SpringBonnie himself, before he became Springtrap.
His green eyes, golden hair and bunny ears had all been modelled down to the smallest detail, making the animatronic look as human as possible.
If someone didn't know that it was a robot, then it could easily pass itself off for being human, just by its social interactions alone.
Pushing the box's lid shut, Vincent placed the animatronic's head on top. He stared at it, gazing deep into its dead eyes as it stared back at him like a lifeless doll.
Whenever he got inside the suit, the darker side of him came out, he was much more in tune with his bloodlust inside its dark confines. He could be whatever he liked, and barely no one would know that it was him, with the voice box making him sound just like SpringBonnie whenever he talked.
It felt like he was someone else, but he knew that it was really just himself embracing his dark passions. He smiled, as he reached forward with one hand and placed a single finger against the animatronic's cold lips.
"Shhhhh," he whispered softly.
"Everything is working as intended."
"SpringBonnie will get an encore soon enough."
Then he dropped his smile and slumped back into the chair, allowing his arms to hang limply at his sides.
It was then that his mind turned to what Nightmare Freddy had referred to as the 'incident', but he knew the full details of what had happened.
It was quite a lot to take in when he was first told about it. Back when he didn't think much of the supernatural, despite hearing the rumours about various urban legends from his co-workers.
Still. . .it was intriguing nonetheless.
November 1987 Greenfield Indiana. . .
Vincent pulled hard on the spanner, securing the final bolt into place, and enforcing the stability of the machine's rear end.
The metal groaned as he did the procedure, but it complied anyway. He then stepped back, exhausted, but proud of his handiwork.
The machine was only a quarter of the way built, but they were off to a good start.
Vincent could easily wrap his mind around the machine's structural design, having experience in that line of work. It's functional purpose however eluded him still, even though he understood the rough outlines of the figure's theory.
"Fascinating isn't it. . .to explore the unknown?" a smooth voice called out from behind him.
Vincent turned in the voice's direction to see the figure standing by a metal table under the dim glow of the overhanging lights.
"Despite the risks, the results can be game changing, but the risks are many, I and the other Nightmares know this from personal experience."
"And yet those experiences brought you to me, I am somewhat flattered," Vincent replied sarcastically, walking over. He saw a brief expression of annoyance in the figure's eyes, yet the figure refuse to make an issue out of Vincent's words.
Upon approaching the table, the figure turned round, gazing down at a sheet of paper that lay across half of the table's length.
Walking to be at the figure's side, Vincent could easily see that it was a sheet of blueprints for the machine that they were labouring so hard to build.
They had both named it Soul Stealer, given the figure's intentions with the machine, once it was fully assembled.
"So, we have got the foundation for the electric generator in place, although I think we may need to add extra support to hold it up as we begin to build the generator," Vincent commented, earning the figure's attention as their eyes turned in his direction.
"We'll cross that bridge when it comes, mister Afton," they replied plainly, tracing Soul Stealer's outlines with their claw like fingers.
"However, things are proceeding as planned."
Then their eyes turned away, now gazing at a second sheet of blueprints that occupied the other half of the table. This sheet depicted the outlines for another machine, the one that had inspired Soul Stealer's design.
Even though its function was just as complex as Soul Stealer's was, its name however was much simpler. Although unlike Soul Stealer, the name gave no indication to its exact function.
Ink Machine. . .
Its intentions were confusing to Vincent, but the figure seemed to hold a great amount of understanding on the machine's history.
"They were so close with what they had envisioned, but the end results of that cartoon studio were. . .disappointing to put it lightly," they muttered, sounding displeased, before their tone turned to that of a sneer.
"They say that dreams come true, well they seemed to have forgotten that nightmares do as well," they mocked, strongly disapproving the optimism of the ones behind the Ink Machine's creation.
"Joey Drew was indeed a dreamer, but he was also blindly arrogant in the pursuit of his goal."
The figure then sighed, exhaling deeply, tracing the outlines of the Ink Machine with their claw like fingers.
"The illusion of living, in the end Joey's goals were illusionary, whilst the reality of his actions created a waking nightmare in every sense of the word."
"I agree," Vincent muttered softly, but with a tone that expressed discomfort. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the only other lit area in the room. He stared longingly at a metallic stage that was lit by colourful stage lights and occupied by four stationary figures.
"The illusion of living is an addictive pursuit. . ."
The figure seemed to instantly catch his meaning, turning their head towards the stage and the four figures that stood motionless atop it.
"Ahhh yes, your beloved creations, they are truly a work of art in their realism Vincent, that performance you showed me on my first trip down here was very believable," they said warmly, breaking out a small smile.
"It is a pity though that their realism isn't being us-"
"No!" Vincent exclaimed sharply, causing the figure to immediately turn in his direction, their eyes bore into his.
They were now narrowed, expressing an aggressive state of mind.
"They will not be the templates for your Nightmare friends, we agreed on that!" Vincent said defiantly, his tone being direct, his own eyes were narrowed in strong opposition, and his posture matching that of someone not willing to budge.
He looked ready for an argument.
The figure maintained their aggressive stance, also ready to debate the issue, but then they completely relaxed their entire posture. All traces of aggression faded away in an instant.
"I agreed to your request, they would not become the templates."
They then continued.
"I was only referring to the fact that you seem to keep them down here all the time, they could have talent in other uses," the figure commented calmly, conceding to Vincent's position.
Yet Vincent wouldn't even entertain the suggestion that his creations should be used in such a way.
"No, they are meant to be pure, completely free from my actions," he replied directly, still holding an aggressive stance, even though the figure made it clear there was to be no argument over the issue.
The figure then turned away, going back to looking at the blueprints for Soul Stealer, but replied nonetheless.
"Fair enough, I apologise for even raising the suggestion, I know why they are precious to you mister Afton."
Vincent sighed, allowing his moment of anger to dissipate into nothing. He had overreacted in his response, but he was dead set on keeping his most beloved creations away from the taint of his deeds.
In the lull, his mind recalled the figure referring to knowing risk on a personal level, and he gave into his curiosity. Moving to stand beside the figure, who was still gazing down at the blueprints for Soul Stealer, Vincent asked in a rather direct, but casual tone.
"You mentioned knowing the risks of exploring the unknown, I presume that you refer to personal experience?"
"You have in our previous meetings given a few remarks that allures to something along those lines."
The figure's eyes turned to face Vincent, their expression was plain, and their eyes were unreadable. For a moment, there was silence as the figure continued to stare at Vincent, not giving away any indication to their inner mood.
However, they finally responded, turning around and resting their back against the table, giving off a casual posture as they spoke, whilst gazing out into the surrounding darkness.
"Yes, prior to reaching out to you, there was an incident a few years back, when I tried to lure a group of children into Limbo, so we could possess them, and use their bodies as physical vessels."
They then lowered their head, perhaps they were waiting for Vincent to respond, but he didn't, preferring instead to keep listening, and the figure continued.
"I admit it was hastily executed, having to force them through an out of body experience, and then enticing their spirits into the house."
They smiled, seeming to relish the memory.
"It was fun messing them around, after all they were children, but one of them was strange, yet it was why I sought her as my own vessel."
"A girl, why was she strange, weren't the others as well?" Vincent asked inquisitively, but the figure shook their head.
"No, they were all normal, the girl however had some magical ability."
They then turned to look at Vincent, and their eyes now held a serious expression, but they kept their smile.
"She possessed the power to manipulate any physical object to her will, although the act caused her to bleed."
The figure's smile grew into a grin.
"She was feisty, and wouldn't go down easily, her friends on the other hand required next to no effort to knock out."
Vincent remained silent, absorbing in every word.
"We were in the process of possessing them, crushing their souls and making their bodies our own, but then. . ."
The figure's smile vanished to be replaced with a frown of annoyance.
"Suddenly out of nowhere, 'they' turned up and ruined everything."
"Whose they?" Vincent asked, clearly curious, he was hooked.
The figure's gaze hardened as they replied.
"We were not the only ones interested in the children, especially the girl, creatures, monsters in every definition of the word by appearance at least."
"Somehow, they had been able to track their location to us, broke in, and started fighting us for possession of the children."
"Wait," Vincent said, holding his hands up.
"Creatures from Limbo?" he asked, seeming to be confused, and rightfully so, given the level of detail that the figure was providing.
However, the figure shook their head vehemently.
"No, creatures from another dimension, from a parallel world."
Vincent dropped his hands, his mouth hung open, he was dumbfounded, his eyes expressed a deep-seated confusion. Knowing that he would ask more questions, the figure satisfied his curiosity, and their eyes narrowed as did their posture, seeming to be angered by the memory.
"It was a very bloody affair, a slaughterhouse, we barely survived the onslaught, trying to protect ourselves and Tommy, in the confusion the children broke free from our grasp and made good their escape."
They closed their eyes, seeming to reflect on the inner details of the event.
"Fortunately for us, the leader of those creatures had the sense to call a truce, and we forged a deal, thankfully we had something to offer them."
"And that was?" Vincent asked, his mind was racing to piece everything into something that he could understand, but in his shock, he was struggling.
The figure now answered in a plain tone, and although their cold expression hadn't changed, there was a look of mischief in their eyes.
"I'll answer that question another time, although what we gained from that deal should be very important with what we have planned for the machine, there is much to discuss."
"Although it wasn't easy getting the leader of those creatures to agree our terms."
"After that, the creatures merely departed, leaving us alive, but bloodied to say the least,"
The figure then turned away from Vincent, now looking at the quarter-built state of Soul Stealer, seeming to delve into their thoughts before speaking again.
"Hopefully, at the same time. . ."
Without even looking back, they moved one of their hands onto the blueprints for the Ink Machine.
"The deal that we struck with the deranged inhabitants of Joey Drew Studios, should enable us when combined with what we gained from those creatures to unlock the secrets of giving gifts, giving life."
The figure then turned to face Vincent once more, their expression of coldness and anger had completely vanished to be replaced with an outward expression of optimism.
"The joy of creation and the illusion of living are just two sides of the same coin, but we shall make it work."
"I'm sure that I have just racked your mind with conceptions that you are struggling to grasp, but I will spare you any further mental torture."
The figure then slowly walked forward toward Soul Stealer, stopping before it and resting their hands on its frame, seeming to let their body relax, and once more dive into their inner thoughts.
Yet Vincent had two more questions that wouldn't settle until they had been answered, so he asked.
"This other world that those creatures came from, what do you know about it?"
The figure slowly turned to look back at Vincent.
Their eyes expressed a sense of knowing and fear perhaps, although it was well hidden.
"I had only visited it a few times, when I was trying to gain more knowledge about the children."
Their eyes hardened again, as if it was preparing to stress a point.
"It was like this world, but completely reversed and very cold, the children referred to it as being upside down, in every sense of the word, apart from being literal of course."
Vincent could picture the figure's description in his mind's eye, a mirror world that was dark and cold. He still had one more question, so he continued in his questioning to satisfy his curiosity.
"Where did those children come from, the girl in particular, you implied that they came from our world, where from exactly?"
The figure's eyes widened in response, looking both confused and amused.
"I am surprised that you haven't heard about the rumours, given how local the place is."
Now Vincent just looked confused again, making the figure roll their eyes as they responded with.
"The location's name might jog your memory. . .Hawkins Indiana."
And with that answer, Vincent's mind exploded, in his shock, he could only utter a single sentence in response.
"The Hawkins Conspiracy. . ."
Present Day
There was a sharp and loud knock on his bedroom door, awaking Vincent, and jolting him right out of his thoughts.
"Enter," he called out, raising his head, and trying not to sound impatient.
The door opened, and an endoskeleton appeared in the doorway, peering in with its grey eyes that surveyed the room, before finally focusing in on Vincent.
"Master Vincent, when do we change course to the preassigned location of the airship in advance of tomorrow's 'festivities', tonight or tomorrow?" it asked in the usual plain tone that belonged to every endoskeleton in existence.
"Tonight, but have the ship fly super slow so to avoid detection, by tomorrow morning or midday we should be there," Vincent replied, trying to sound dictatorial to resist the lure of sleep.
"Of course, that'll be relayed to the pilots immediately," the endoskeleton stated in its dry tone, before taking its leave and closing the bedroom door shut.
Once more Vincent was left alone, as he often preferred.
He groaned as he rested his head in his hands, feeling a potential headache coming on. Even just recalling the memory of being told by the figure about the Nightmares' first attempt to get human vessels was mind numbing.
There were somethings that were beyond his capability to grasp, and he was fine with that.
Sometimes, somethings were just too much work to figure out.
Looking up, he reached out with one hand and lifted the music box's lid. The small figure rose up on its pedestal, and the soothing music began to play, as it had done before.
He watched, enthralled as the figure in the box spun and twirled on the spot like a dancer. An aching sadness filled his heart, as he became more engrossed with the music.
Memories that felt melancholy began to flicker to life in his mind's eye, as he reached out once more, and placed his hand on the dancing figure's head.
"Evelyn. . ." he began, speaking softly and low, feeling a lump grow in his throat.
"Please don't hate me, but I have to finish what I have started, and when I am done, there'll be no traces left behind."
"This nightmare will end. . .for all of us."
As I said, things will eventually come together, but this should not overload the story because everything has a purpose, be it for the narrative or for character development. However, I will stress that the focus will remain on Five Nights at Freddy's, that has always been my intention.
Also, Soul Stealer was the machine as seen in Chapter 17 (Spirit Transformation), and then referred to again in Chapter 26 (A Hollow Victory). It was only a few days ago that I thought of a proper name for it, and it does go well with its function. :-)
I aim to upload another chapter either later this month or sometime in September.
Until then, thanks for reading and please review.