Lost and Found

New Harmony, Utah

Friday 2nd December 2016, 06:46 AM

As Spencer watched his uncle vanish amidst the trees, he felt his mind weighing heavily on his words. It hadn't escaped him that something was off about all of this. From the start, he'd been trepidatious and concerned that there was something wrong.

A few months back, one of his allies, a usually blunt and pessimistic friend, had said it was like he had a sixth sense for these things. Spencer liked to think that he'd inherited it from his father.

That sixth sense was telling him over and over to doubt. To ignore it would be a bad idea. Yet, that sixth sense also made him mistrust that very same ally a year ago.

Both my parents trusted Mike, Spencer knew, so the right thing, the loyal thing, would be to trust their judgement.

Yet that mistrust didn't fade. Straightening, his conflict fell onto his one best move. He'd solved his prior mistrust by seeing the ally do something truly selfless. Before that, though, he had gone through his history. Understood why that ally was the way he was.

And I've got the history between Mike and my dad right here. Why not use it?

So after waiting for his mother to wake and asking her for the files again, she obliged. It brought some comfort to him to see her relief that Mike was alive and well. He knew it would break her heart if there was something else going on.

Once he had the files on hand, all the while maintaining his watch on the perimeter, Spencer investigated. As he went through, he felt that familiar irritation building inside of him. Though he'd been shown the decryption methods to his father's work, so much of it still eluded him. Phrases and passages that he knew to be important, but he lacked the skills to take it further.

Okay, he breathed, start from the beginning. 1991. First contact with Fazbear Entertainment. He entered that facility with five other agents, one of them John Lamarck. Only my dad survived. That passage there leads to the Faust quote…

On and on, Spencer went through the files, piece by piece. Looking for any sign of something missed. Though he found the occasional interesting detail, none of it was groundbreaking. Nothing would uncover a hidden lead.

Before long, he'd drifted onto Mike's new passages without realising. He was about to shuffle back when something caught his eye.

Hang on, he stared hard at the passage on the right, that's like page seven…

The more he stared at it, the more sure he was. Urgently, he turned back to page seven and recalled his mother's explanation on it. Then, he returned to that other page and began.

Though painstaking doing it himself, he eventually finished sketching out the phrase. For a moment, he had to step back, awed.

Qvou TjHmml, Jlkhy Jpaf. Tpnoa il jvuuljalk av Oluyf'z rpk.

Gibberish, of course. Yet it was gibberish that he could work with. The last step was a Caesar cipher, a coding language even he knew about. Staring at it for a moment, he brainstormed the best answer.

Seven, he decided, the only time this was used in this order was page seven.

In the space of half an hour, he reached his conclusion. The passage read, so simply, John McAffe, Cedar City. Might be connected to Henry's kid.

For some time, he needed to sit back and take in what he'd discovered. A clue that, as far as he was aware, had remained undiscovered and unmentioned until this very moment.

Standing up, he turned towards the front door and entered. Inside, he found his mother and Mike talking once more about some new lead. For a second, Spencer listened, until they spotted him.

"You okay, Spencer?" His mother asked, shooting him a smile.

"For the most part." He smiled back, hiding his worry, "Hey, uh, Mike, got a moment?"

"Of course, Spencer." Mike nodded, "What's up?"

"You know that guy, John? John McAffe?"

"Heard about him. Why?"

"Well…" Spencer hesitated for a second. Might as well test the waters. "I found a mention of him in your files."

Samantha frowned, "Wait, where? I can't remember anything like that."

"It was encoded. A lead Mike found at some point." Spencer explained, still wondering how far he should push this.

"Right, I remember." Mike grinned, "It's one of those that I had an inkling on…what did you find on it?"

"You found a mention of him living in Hurricane, I believe?"

"Ah, right." He leaned against the wall, shrugging, "It could be something we can pursue. I never did find him."

"I'll look into it." Spencer nodded, feeling that dull chill in his chest that had been a warning many times. That answers that, then.

"Anyway, I'm going to need to get off to work." Grabbing his belongings, Mike pulled his coat on, "I'll see you tonight. We have a small window to get in."

"Got it." Watching closely, Samantha seemed concerned, "Be careful, Mike. We're on thin ice going forward."

"You know me." Mike smirked confidently, "I'm careful personified."

Then he left and Spencer finally slumped. Once he was sure that Mike was gone, he turned to his mother. "I might have something. A lead."

"That one about that guy, John?" Sam enquired.

"Maybe. Something's feeling off, though…"

"If it's dangerous," His mother spoke carefully, "perhaps wait until your uncle gets back."

"No, not dangerous. Just feels…iffy."

"Why?"

"Might just be paranoia." He gave her a reassuring eyebrow raise, "Anyway, I can wait."

"Spencer." Sam pressed him, "I can tell you're itching to go look into it. You're just like your dad. If you think this is important, then go."

"But-"

"No buts. You were brought here for a reason. Trust your instinct."

Though he could feel a part of himself desperately clawing for an argument, all he could do was give her a grateful nod. "I'll be back by tonight. You're hitting the office?"

"We will be." She confirmed, "It will be tough, but…might be the only way to get answers for this Project Rebirth."

"I'll be back by then."

"Don't worry. Between myself and Mike, we should get through it."

For a moment, he was about to confess. To admit to his paranoia. Yet when he had the chance, he couldn't do it. "Just be safe. Okay?"

"You too, honey." They shared a hug before Spencer packed up his kit and left the house.

Holding the keys to the rental car in his hand, Spencer considered how likely this lead would actually get him something. Most of the work had been done for him, true, yet when was it ever this easy?

In the minutes before he left, he scoured the files for any more mention of this John McAffe. It seemed that Mike had inherited this lead from Spencer's father, though the latter had never confirmed the names or the validity of the claim; it was all guesswork. That only confused Spencer more. How was Mike able to get the name and potential location of the guy and never know that much about him?

Sighing, he pulled out onto the road, heading out of town, and then north towards Cedar City. As he proceeded, the mesa continued to stretch nearly endlessly, up towards the mountains on each side. To his surprise, Spencer realised something. I've not really ever been this far north into Utah. Only one time…

After some time driving, Spencer could feel himself growing weary. Pulling up, he stopped by a small diner and had something to eat and drink. As he did, he pulled out the files which he'd taken with him and began to go through them.

As it had been from the beginning, it was near surreal going through these files knowing most of the events detailed had happened before he'd even been born. Not that they were new to him; after their battle with the Nightingales had come to an end, Spencer had found himself looking further into his father's investigation.

Henry had, of course, passed away at some point in 1985. Soon after the Missing Children's Incident, having been accused, he'd taken his own life. Leaving behind a separated wife and a child. Neither of whom had been tracked down. It seemed that all information on the wife had been removed, though by who remained a mystery.

As for the daughter, Charlie had become a ghost herself. At some point in the nineties, it seemed. The last mentions of her seemed to indicate that she had never returned to her college one day.

Spencer grew concerned as he read through the files. Something about all of this seemed off putting; people didn't just disappear like this. If his training had taught him anything, it only happened for two reasons: Something happened to them, or they didn't want to be found.

Were Charlie still alive, Spencer pondered, what was it that sent her running?

Perhaps once he found him, this John would shed light on that.

Once he entered Cedar City, Spencer drove deeper into the town as he searched for his destination. After pulling up to check a few times, he was satisfied when he finally reached it. Parking up, he walked straight for the building, pausing for a second to confirm he was in the right place.

John's apartment was on the third floor of the building, as best he could tell. As inconspicuous as he could muster, Spencer entered and headed to the floor. He reached apartment five and knocked on the door. When nobody answered, he frowned.

It's still mid afternoon, he considered. Yet something felt off. He turned and left the apartment again, before heading around the side until he was in the alleyway. Looking up, he saw the fire escape, and used the nearby dumpster to scale it. Once he heaved himself up, he quietly headed up the next floor and reached John's apartment window.

Once there, he paused when he noticed the window open. Hesitant, he pulled it fully open and entered the apartment. Once inside and sure nobody else was, Spencer began to look around.

As he did so, he felt a chill run through his body. Someone else has been here, he realised. When he saw the open window, he'd considered that chance. They might have remained elusive, were it not for the scuff marks on the window's frame.

So somebody else got in here, he decided. Why? Just a robbery? Or was somebody following the same trail?

With a grunt, he continued. On the dining room table was a card. Raising his eyebrow, Spencer had a closer look at it. The Blackbird. A bar, perhaps?

Once he was sure that there was nothing else to signify where John was, Spencer left. Once clear of the building, he pulled up his maps and found the Blackbird. As he drove to it, he considered what he could do once he found John. Question him?

It would take a lot of convincing, he knew deep down. It appeared that John was involved in some way in the Missing Children's Incident, if the lead checked out. If he still knew Charlie and also was aware of why, if so, she was on the run…

That decided it. If Spencer went to the man himself, began asking these questions, he had a feeling that it would blow this lead.

Once Spencer arrived at the Blackbird, he found the files and looked around for what information on John there was. Other than a clipped out picture from a news article about the reunion from 1995, there wasn't much.

So I'm gonna have to eyeball it. That, or…

Nodding, he knew it was best. Once he was parked up, Spencer took out his phone and looked for who he needed to call. Once selected, he called. After a few moments, it was answered.

"Spence." His voice came out nearly surprised, "You alright?"

"Hey, Gabe. I could use a favour."

"Er, yeah. Sure. What do you need?"

"I need a plate. All I've got is a name and a state. Could you run it through Osiris, see what you can find?"

"Yeah, alright. Give me a sec…what's the name?"

"John McAffe. He should be based in Utah; Cedar City, to be exact."

"Let me see…yep. John McAffe, born in 1978. Bloody good system you've got, by the way."

That made Spencer smile. A smile which faltered when he saw the man leave the bar and head to his car. "It really is. What's the plate number he's using?"

"It's A13 3TS. Looks to be a Brown Ford SUV."

Spencer's mouth almost dried upon seeing that man enter a car of the same make. A quick squint told him his answer. "Aye, that's him. Thanks, Gabe."

"Sure. I'm gonna regret asking this, but you sure you don't need backup?"

"I'm sure." Spencer affirmed, "Don't tell the others about this, alright?"

"Not gonna appreciate the bollocking I'm gonna get if this goes wrong…"

With that, Spencer hung up and got back in his car. Then, as relaxed as he could, he pulled out and followed the SUV.

When John completely bypassed his apartment, Spencer knew he made the right call. Slowly, he followed as he was led back out of town. When John pulled onto a trail and headed into the wilderness, Spencer cursed softly. Time to see what this rental can do…

As it turned out, as badly as he was worried about. Whilst John sped ahead in his hybrid SUV, Spencer's own ride was rough and he got increasingly worried about losing him. When they finally reached a wooded area, Spencer lost him for half a minute before finding the SUV parked up.

When he pulled up too, he knew immediately that John was gone. Taking a deep breath, Spencer got his bearings and after making sure he wasn't stepping out into an ambush, he got out and went to the SUV.

It's fine, he decided. Just need to track him.

Taking his time, Spencer found the trailer and followed it further into the wilderness. When he was sure where John was heading, he changed course and headed up a hill area until he could get a good look around the area.

His eyes fell onto the wooden cabin hidden in the trees. Keeping low, he made his way around it until he could get a better look.

When he saw what was going on by the front door of the cabin, he froze in place.

A man—who he identified quickly as John—was in an embrace with a woman who looked perhaps five or ten years older than Spencer. When he saw her brown hair and eyes, her loose cargo pants and purple shirt underneath a woollen coat, his answer came as quickly as his question.

As quietly as he came, Spencer left, thoughts racing in his head.

New Harmony, Utah

Thursday 6th October 2016, 00:00 AM

The walls around him chilled his skin, the coffin too small for him to make any movements. Cold sweat poured from his head as he struggled against every fibre of his being from breaking out into a breakdown.

"Don't be afraid." Her voice came back, merely a mockery to his mortal peril, "I'm not going to hurt you. I am only going to keep you for a little while. Try not to wiggle, though."

She was toying with him, that much was clear. His arms were folded, reaching upwards. The confined space barely allowed him to move his elbows any further than a few centimetres. Even the thought of pushing any further than that was something he couldn't bear. Knowing full well what daring to do so would bring.

Like she sensed that thought, Circus Baby—still hidden in the darkness—confirmed what was already obvious. Telling him of the horrifying tomb she had placed him inside. "You're inside something that came from my old pizzeria. I don't think it was ever used - at least, not the way it was ever meant to be used."

"Too dangerous." She continued to explain and Mike felt his blood run near sub-zero at it. It hadn't gone over his head that he was trapped inside a springlock suit. The confirmation of that fact didn't make any less of a blow, however. "It's just big enough for one person to fit inside. But just barely."

Through the right eye hole of the suit, Mike could see a flashing red light. Perhaps only ten metres away. Straining, he tried to make it out, but his vision remained foggy from waking up.

"You're in the scooping room." Circus Baby continued to whisper from somewhere in the darkness, either ignorant or uncaring to his rising heartbeat. "Do you know why they call it 'the scooping room'? It's because, dummy, this is the room where they use the scooper."

Were he not battling his inner turmoil, Mike might've been offended by the uncalled for insult. In that moment, though, all he could focus on was the cold sweat coming from his skin. Reminding him of the tapes, the ones that showed the moment he fell. How the springlocks snapped as the raindrops dripped into the metal shell he was wearing.

"I thought that would be obvious." She spoke with a slightly mischievous tone, "Isn't that a fun name for something? The scooper. It sounds like something you would use for ice cream, or custard, or sprinkles."

"It sounds like something you would want at your birthday party," In that moment, Mike struggled to tell what she was thinking as she mused, "to ensure that you get a heaping portion of every good thing."

"I wonder, though, if you were a freshly-opened pint of ice cream, how you would feel about something with that name?" Her voice was so close that Mike could imagine her to be pressed up against the other side of the suit she'd trapped him in, "Thankfully, I don't think a freshly opened pint of ice cream feels anything at all."

Then her voice became hushed in such a sudden moment, "Uh-oh. It sounds like someone else is in the building. Shh!"

Whether she descended back into the darkness or remained up close to him, Mike couldn't tell. Instead, he focused on the sound from elsewhere in the room. A banging, two pairs of footsteps, and finally a voice. A human voice.

"Okay, bring her over." The voice said, belonging to a man whose age Mike could not tell, "More, mooore... okay, stop. Set her down. Waaatch the step."

It took Mike some time to fully comprehend what he was hearing. So much so that he found himself frozen in both body and mind.

"What happened to it this time?" Another voice asked, more grizzled than the other. "Just seems like these things can't go a day without breaking down."

The first man snorted "Who knows, it's always the same, man. Some kind of hardware malfunction."

Croaking, Mike finally settled on his next, best action. Spitting past his dry throat, he tried to speak. Yet when he went to open his mouth, he felt the resistance against his jaw.

"Well, I have to be somewhere in, like, fifteen minutes." The second man sighed, "This place gives me the creeps. Can we just get this over with? It's all automated, we don't have to be here for it. Just get it on the rollers and we can go."

What's wrong with me? Mike growled internally. As the thoughts raced around in his head, however, it shifted to a new question. What has she done?

A mechanical whirring in the room broke the thin veil of silence. With his chest tightening at the sound, Mike tried again to speak, even through his closed jaw. Between the tightness around his face area and his dehydration, however, all he could muster were throated grunts.

With his arm that was tightly pinned pointing upwards, Mike tried to reach for his face slowly. It was a long, slow process, but when he finally touched his face, he felt the cold metal that was fastened around his jaw. Feeling his eyes widen at the touch, he uttered a desperate, yet muffled cry at his situation.

If this suit kills me, a distant, vile thought filled his consciousness, I won't even be able to scream.

As the whirring became louder, movement through the right eyehole of the suit filled him with dread. The face of Ballora, inactive, moved horizontally. It's a conveyor belt, Mike told himself as he understood what the mechanical noise was.

Eventually, it came to a jarring halt, and Mike could tell by the silence that ensued that he was alone. With only his captor for company.

"There's something very important that I've learned how to do over time." She spoke once more, somehow closer, "That is, how to pretend."

"Do you ever play make-believe?" She asked him yet another question and the irritation of the gall she displayed filled him. How can you expect me to answer that? With what you've put me in? "Pretend to be one way, when you are really the other? It's very important. Ballora never learns. But I do."

For the first time, Mike knew that she was telling the truth. It was almost bitter, how she was nearly admitting to misdirecting him. Making him believe she was on his side. "They think there is something wrong on the inside. The only thing that matters…is knowing how to pretend."

The sudden blaring beeping in the room made him seize up for a moment, before forcing his body still. Absolute terror overcame him as he waited for the suit to contract with him still inside it, yet that moment never came. When the beeping came to an end, it was not his suit that snapped.

It was Ballora's.

Something inside the room struck, hidden by darkness, and Ballora's metal body recoiled several times before slumping. As she fell, all Mike could see was one of her eyes in the darkness, staring emptily back at him. Staring at the eye, Mike tried to find any sign of life in the animatronic.

There was none.

"I'll open the face plates for you." Circus Baby offered, as if she was doing him a favour he should be grateful for. As she said this, the metal face of the springlock suit opened. As it did so, Mike felt that pressure fastening his jaw give way. "That way, they can find you on the cameras. Now, all you have to do…is wait."

"I'd recommend that you keep the springlocks wound up." As she said that, Mike's eyes fell onto the multiple pairs of springlocks on the inside of the head, "Your breathing and your heartbeat are causing them to come loose. You don't want them to get too loose. Trust me."

Struggling to find his voice, Mike could barely manage a whisper at first. "Wait. Wait. Just let me out. Please."

When a response didn't come, Mike looked at the springlocks again. Seeing one on the left coming slowly undone, he gasped. Trying his best to keep calm, he lifted his left arm slowly and reached for the lock. His fingers pressed onto the small metal pin on it and he steadily wound it back to its original position.

"Where are you?" He spoke hoarsely, "Don't do this. Just let me out."

When he still didn't get a response, Mike finally accepted that he was alone. A rising sense of hopelessness pushed against him and it took everything he had not to break. Giving himself a moment, Mike breathed in and out, slowly.

You chose to come here, he reminded himself, now you've gotta get yourself out.

But then his fortitude was tested at the sound of something small hitting the floor. Gasping again, and knowing he was not mistaken, Mike fell quiet. And you're not quite as alone as you thought.

Swallowing his nerves, Mike began to wind the next springlock; this time, however, he forced himself to keep his eyes open and staring into the darkness. Every so often, he would hear a small pitter-patter of footsteps.

They were surrounding him, a fear that only grew when he heard the light giggle. Shaking his head and begging himself to keep focused, Mike continued what he was doing. Is it those things from the other night? No, no, these things are smaller. Like-

Mike froze in place when he saw the shape emerge just inches in front of him. The twig-like arms of the small creature pulled it upwards and for a moment, he saw its face.

It's Ballora's companions. The memory of the sight from the prior night seared itself into his mind. In a moment, the tiny thing heaved itself through the gap that had opened and fell downwards, out of sight, towards his feet.

Gasping, Mike tried to look down, but wherever the thing had gone, he could no longer see it. He uttered a desperate, frustrated sound as he tried to wind up another of the springlocks, all the while feeling something scuttling around by his feet.

His fingers kept slipping from the lock for a moment and he seethed, trying to cling to it. Every time he was done with another lock, another one would be close to snapping. It was an uphill battle-

Mike shrieked as he felt the thing climbing up his leg. Instinctively, he slammed his knee against the metal suit and felt it smash to pieces. Eyes wide, he stared in horror at the locks…

…and one of them made a sudden snap, just as he raised his hand to it. Without thinking, he put his hand under the lock and felt the piercing pain as it dug in. Mike screamed, but was successful in stopping his body from lashing out any further.

Feeling his blood run cold, Mike looked at the lock and the mess his right hand was now in. It was pinned to the spot, but he knew that his pinned hand was the only thing stopping the lock from killing him.

I don't have a choice, Mike accepted. He pulled his left hand upwards, giving it more room. With one hand out of commission, he only had the other to keep him alive.

For what seemed like an eternity, he continued to struggle against the oncoming death. Trying his best to keep these small creatures that continued to surround him and attempt to climb in. Trying to keep the springlocks from taking his life, as they'd taken his life.

Then he made one wrong move and another spring lock snapped. This one, he couldn't stop. Without any other choice, Mike tilted his head to the right, as the left side of the head caved in.

Forcing his eyes open, Mike gritted his teeth as the small creature with its oval face began to climb in, accompanied by two others.

"Take me with you." It asked nearly kindly, as the other two giggled. In response, Mike slammed his fist into them.

I can't do this, Mike nearly sobbed, knowing he was at the end of his rope. I can't do this anymore…

But just as he was about to give in and accept his death, he was blinded by light.

"There! Over there!" A voice boomed somewhere in the room. A new shape, this one bigger, appeared on the other side of the open faceplate. The man's wide eyes stared back at him.

"He's still alive!" The man called out and Mike recognised him as one of the engineers from earlier, "Help me get this damn thing open!"

As for whether they managed to, Mike wouldn't be able to tell. A heavy feeling filled his body and everything went dark once more.

Apologies for not getting a new chapter out sooner. Work's been taking up a lot of time, so it's been a slow process.

Not reviews this time around. Hope you're doing okay, Cheah. You've been a Godsend the last couple years.

Second act is coming to an end; only one more chapter. Unfortunately, I'm sure you all can expect what going to happen. Trust me when I say, it's not going to be any easier writing.