"And on I read until the day was gone,

and I sat in regret of all the things I've done.

For all that I've blessed and all that I've wronged,

in dreams until my death, I will wander on."

Like a Stone, Audioslave

Act I: Justified Scars

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place, New Harmony, Utah

Tuesday 5th December 2017, 02:31 AM

Today could've gone worse, Mike mused as he left the underchambers beneath his restaurant's main floor. A few orders and ensuring he had all the supplies required and it was a successful end of a shift.

For what was his first day as manager of this start-up franchise, he knew it had started off well.

"What do you two think?" Mike found himself asking and his two stalwart companions exchanged a mixture of confusion and irritation.

With a frown, Dave asked, "Sorry?"

"Yeah, you're gonna have to be a little more specific there, Mikey." Cassidy muttered, "I think you're having another one of those one-way conversations, again."

"Ah. Right, yeah. About today, I mean. I think it went fairly well."

Dave gave a supportive smile, "Yep. I think you're right."

"I will say," Cassidy gave a respective bow, "out of all the trash-oriented performance artists I know, this place is definitely one of them."

"Um…right…"

"They're nice!" His voice insistent yet his eyes doubtful, Dave hesitated, "Trash and the Gang, they…I mean, I'm sure they have potential."

"Potential?" A grin crossed over Cassidy's face, "Really?"

"Well, you know…sometimes it's nice to go back to basics. Mike also got them for a good deal, too. We don't have all the money in the world, after all."

"Thank you, David." Mike acted like his honor had been defended from a sleight, masking his amusement about the conversation. "I'm glad someone likes them."

"Right." Her words drawled on as Cassidy retorted, "I am very sorry for not finding the literal garbage animatronics to be very appealing. Clearly I'm in the wrong; Trash and the Gang are simply pioneers."

"That's fine." Mike bowed his head, pretending to accept her apology, "I'm glad to see that you've come to your senses."

"After all," She continued, "their creators must've placed all of their resources into creating something truly special. Oh…wait, who created them, again?"

Damn it, Mike hesitated as Dave answered that, she's got me there. "Um…Dumpster Diving Weekly."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure it's nothing more than a name, right?"

"Alright." Mike sighed, knowing he was beat, "I concede. We are using pieces of garbage strung together as entertainment. There, you happy?"

She scowled, "I'm never happy. I am, however, satisfied with your admission."

Giving an empathetic nod as he patted Mike on the arm, Dave said, "I still like them, Mike."

"Really." Mike snorted.

"Oh, no. They're terrible."

"Yeah, I know." Looking towards the ragtag group of…entertainers…on their little discount stage, Mike struggled not to smirk at their very existence. "But not like we have much of a choice. We needed something in here."

"We should've just dressed you in an animal costume." Cassidy offered, "Had you dance around; would've been great. Well, I would've enjoyed it, at least."

"Yeah, no." Scrunching up his artificial face, Mike explained, "My reputation's in tatters as it is. If people start to think I'm some sort of furry, that's this place dead in the water."

At that, Cassidy scowled at her own ignorance. "What's a furry?"

"Just forget it."

"Okay." Dave mumbled, "I'm kinda interested, now."

"I think we should instead…um…talk about who our favourite is! I mean, Bucket Bob's pretty cool, right?"

"I like Number One Crate." Dave offered his own opinion. "He's small, but he stands out."

"Yeah, he does." Mike smiled, "So, Cass?"

"I'm not done with the furry thing. But if it's any of them, Mr. Can Do."

He blinked at that. "What, the trash can?"

"He reminds me of you."

"Okay, then."

"Now, now, Cassie." A voice spoke from the darkness and silenced them all, "Let's not be mean. They're all good…and Mr. Hugs is obviously the best one."

When their eyes fell onto the young girl standing there near the stage, it was Cassidy who spoke first, a small grin on her face. "Well, well. Look who's come down from their throne to look upon us common muck?"

She seemed bemused at that comment. "I'm sorry. I wanted to come sooner…there were a few complications."

But Mike smiled reassuringly as he came over to her. "No need, Mari. It's good to see you again."

Understanding his worry, she smiled warmly at him. "It's okay, Mike. I'm…accepting things. You don't have to call me that."

"If…if you're sure, Char."

"How did today go?"

"It was great, Charlie. Trash and the Gang did a song and dance." Cassidy answered dryly, "Also, Mike's a furry."

Mike spun around, gawking. "How did you come to that conclusion?!"

"Well, I can only assume that you not wanting to talk about it means it hits too close to home."

"Well…I mean, you're not technically wrong…"

"So what is a furry and why are you one of them?"

"I'm not and I refuse to talk any more about it."

"Ah." She nodded, understanding, "Denial."

"First stage of the grieving process." Dave joined in, hiding a grin.

I deserve this, Mike accepted and felt a little brighter despite that weariness. That brightness grew tenfold when he saw the figures behind Charlie. Four of them.

One stepped forward, a kid no older than seven with sandy brown hair and sharp brown eyes. "Apologies, seems that we're late to the party."

Mike yelled out in joy and joined in with their laughter as he went to embrace them all as friends. That joy allowed him to ignore the side glance one of the four, a lad with freckles, shared with Cassidy.

"God, it's great to see you guys!" Mike laughed as they hugged him.

The only girl out of the four, with long blonde curls, looked up and him and smiled. "This place is wonderful, Mike."

"It's getting there, Sue. Slowly."

A smart-looking boy with dark olive skin and amber eyes gazed at the entertainers on stage. "They look…interesting."

"I like the one with the bucket." The boy with the sandy brown hair said, "He looks like he has his head on a swivel. What do you think, Jeremy?"

The smart boy nodded in agreement. "You've got to watch out for the one with a plate, though. Looks smarter, more cunning. Better looking, too. Taller…might even be coming up for the leader position."

"That better not be a implication about my height, my dear boy."

"Why, Gabriel." Jeremy smirked, "I wouldn't dream of it."

Susie rolled her eyes and turned her attention back over to Mike. "So, Mike; care to introduce us?"

With a sniff, Cassidy spoke up, "Not much to introduce. Our first day's had us running the show with scraps of garbage pieced together."

"I know," Susie said, clearly a little uncomfortable, "but I'm sure you're doing your best."

"Look, after maintenance costs and utilities, I had about $50 for a budget." Mike explained, growing quite tired of justifying the quality of his selection, "It's not like they've given me more than that. I had to finance that aspect myself."

"And you've done well with that, Michael." Charlie assured him, "This endeavor will be a steady progress."

"Here I thought we could get this project done in a week." Crossing her arms, Cassidy sighed, "Seems building a pizzeria takes longer than burning it down…"

The fourth boy with freckles, who had been simply listening in with warmth, raised an eyebrow at that comment. "Aye, or huntin' down some poor sod in a pizzeria, right, Cassidy?"

"Guess that's true, Fritz. A good worker never blames their tools, after all."

With his comment coming back to bite him with that retort, Fritz gritted his teeth and went to respond. However, Charlie could sense the growing temperature and stepped in.

"No." She said firmly, "We're not doing this. Not tonight."

Nodding, Gabriel placed his hands on his hips. "Pack it in, both of you."

Though she grimaced for a moment, Cassidy seemed to lighten up. "Yep. You're right. That was uncalled for. I…apologise."

Satisfied, Gabriel turned expectedly towards Fritz, who was glowering. He gave in after a stern look from both of his leaders. "Same."

Though he knew he couldn't show it, Mike felt more relieved than ever to see the situation de-escalate. However, that weight off his mind was quickly burdened once more when the thought popped up in his head.

"Uh, sorry to ruin the mood, guys," Mike spoke up, "but I've just seen the time…Paragraph Four."

"Ah." Dave nodded grimly, "Right. The time."

Charlie frowned. "The salvaging?"

"Yep. First time. But what's the chance that on the first day, we find something?" Cassidy offered and Mike knew that none of them really believed that.

When all the souls noticed that Mike had fallen quiet, they all turned their gaze onto him. Eyes glued to the ground, he was subdued.

"Michael?" Jeremy broke the silence.

"Huh?"

Susie gazed at him with worry, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just…well, you know."

"I know!" Charlie spoke up, smiling, "We'll all go look. Think of it like a game."

"Thanks, guys, but you don't have to-"

"Sorry, Michael." Gabriel shrugged his shoulders, "Not getting out of it now. You will be helped against your will."

In spite of himself, Mike grinned. "I appreciate it."

So in a big group of eight, they marched to the back door and opened it. Leading the way, Mike took out his flashlight and stepped out into the cold darkness of night, eyes alert.

Nothing.

"Okay." Mike murmured, "Just in case…"

He stepped out further and looked both ways down the edge of the building. When he didn't see anything, he was nearly ready to be relieved.

That feeling was dashed away when he heard Gabriel's voice. "Hm. I'm feeling…a little faint…"

Stopping in his tracks, Mike looked over his shoulder and saw the boy shaking.

"Me, too." Susie admitted, trying to hide her distress, "I don't…I don't know…"

When he saw similar expressions on Jeremy's and Fritz's faces, Mike's concern began to grow into full-blown panic. "Char, D, Cass?"

"I'm fine." Dave answered.

Though she nodded, Charlie's own fear was obvious for her friends. "Me, too."

"Well…" Cassidy spoke up, "Two out of three isn't bad…"

With that answer, Mike knew something was very wrong. He turned and saw the mass on the other side of the dumpster. Quickly, he raised his flashlight and moved closer, getting a better look at it. It was laying amidst several trash cans, a heaping pile of wires and metal. Scraps of plastic were pieced together on its face, in a visage of a certain bear with a top hat.

Mike's hand calmly went for his company-issued taser, but his focus was shattered when he heard Gabriel speak his name.

"Michael?" He said, before shimmering. Then, he was gone.

Then Jeremy vanished. Followed by Susie and Fritz.

Finally, Cassidy shimmered and she scowled, "Oh, come on-"

As she vanished, Dave shot Mike a horrified look. They both realised what was coming. "Mike-"

Then he disappeared, too.

Growling, Mike turned back to the heaping pile. It's a Remnant. Has to be. By what happened, he didn't need too much time to deduce what it was.

"Char!" He had to stop himself from yelling, "You with me?"

"I am." She answered, trying her best to concentrate.

"Go back! Get back to the Sanctuary, make sure they're okay!"

"I will. Once I'm sure you are."

"We don't have time!" Mike insisted, "Please, go. I'll be fine!"

"Michael." She gritted her teeth, "I'm. Not. Leaving you."

Though he could feel his own desperation threatening to burst, he knew that there was no convincing her. All he could do as he prepared the vehicle to come in and drag the monster inside was try to quell the racing thoughts.

Please, he begged internally, please be okay. All of you. Oh, God. Dave…I can't lose you. Not again.

"Knock kno-o-ock," The heaping mass giggled, "I'm here!"

As he prepared to drag it against its will into his interview room, Mike fought to hide his disgust at it. It's barely an animal, he reminded himself, knowing by his instincts that someone inside was missing. It's barely just some savage animal…

Interstate 15, Utah

Sunday 25th June 2017 07:58 AM

Though Tyler was clearly doing his best not to go over the speed limit, there was an undeniable urgency in how fast he was driving. Gritting her teeth in anxiety, Sam knew they could only hope that no hardline police officer would decide to pull them over.

The last thing they needed right now with all-out war looming over them was to attract even more attention because of a traffic stop. We're still wanted criminals, after all, Sam mused.

Yet that was old news. At that moment, it wasn't the law that they needed to be worried about.

"Five minutes away," Tyler hissed as he overtook a car, "we're almost there."

"Who's the biggest threat right now?" Gripping his seat in the back tightly, Spencer was keeping an eye on their backs, "If anyone is going to go after us?"

Sam sucked in a breath as she considered that. "From memory? There's Blackwood right here in Utah…then the Burning Crosses. They sometimes operate up in Idaho and Montana, so they could come down."

"And the Cortez Cartel." Tyler offered.

"Right." A shiver went down her spine, recalling their last encounter with that group. "If anyone is going to hit us, it's Blackwood."

Once they passed New Harmony and reached the edge of the range that would take them home, Tyler and Spencer watched for any tails before they led the way. Those minutes in the morning sun were nearly terrifying, with every sound in the distance creating concern.

"What about the Bunker?" Spencer brought up the thought that Sam knew was in Tyler's head as it was hers, "Would that have been exposed?"

With a sigh, Tyler answered that as best as he could, "No way of knowing. The Bunker was only established after they hit us last time…so unless they've discovered its location since, they might not have included it in their damn manifest…"

"But if not the Crucible," Sam dampened that relief, "then Blackwood would. They've been after us since last year. They know we've been operating in Utah. It won't take them long to connect the dots."

"So it's not a question of if the Bunker will be exposed, but when?"

"Unfortunately? Yes."

Spencer grumbled, "Well, that's just lovely…"

Though they reached the Bunker in relative safety, with no sign of anything untoward, it didn't improve the mood. Once the doors clicked open and they entered, Sam was already in the process of putting the plan together.

"We need to prepare for a Red Flag." Sam stated, "We need to prepare for an emergency evacuation. We need transport, every possible route…"

A voice came from one of the desks on the main floor. "Already on it, Samantha!"

Finding relief in that, Sam nodded her gratitude, "Thanks, Lincoln."

They weren't alone in the Bunker, of course; staffed with up to twelve of their own at a time. That had been one of the biggest points of weaknesses that was discussed the prior year. The fact that when they were attacked by Proteus-Delta-Nine as it had been eventually referred to, they hadn't the proper outpost to fall back to.

When her husband had set up this little crusade of theirs, he'd put his mantra of never make the same mistake twice into its very core. They weren't about to forget that.

She was snapped out of her stupor by Lincoln. It hadn't been a difficult choice to place him in charge of the outpost. He'd been one of the several members of Shield Department who had joined in with walking out alongside her husband, back in 2007.

"Sam, Carl's on the line!" He spoke with that unyielding voice, "Says he needed to speak to you, the moment you were here!"

That took her aback. On the radio? Why hasn't he pulled all communications yet?

Nodding, she went up to the control centre and took the offered headset. "Hello?"

"Sam is that you?" Carl's stoic voice crackled over the radio.

"Here, Carl. I've been briefed. What actions have been taken?"

"This is the last line active; Emergency Yangchen. I held it open because I knew we needed to talk."

That makes sense, she told herself. Before they would've gone offline, the other outposts would have took their most obvious lines down first. If the emergency lines were next, it could only mean one thing.

"How bad is this, Carl?"

"I've issued Judgement Day all across the board. This is it, Sam. The Crucible have launched a full-scale attack. They've told everyone; all of Lights' and Shadows' contacts…every Government service and criminal underworld…they all know about us."

Though she had known deep down how bad this would be, the confirmation sent a dagger through her chest. Taking a deep breath, she spoke carefully, "I trust that we've implemented the Endgame protocol?"

"We have. All family members and associates have been warned…it's creating chaos, but it's just about all we can do. Sam, I'm sending your kids to you."

That news shocked her. "Why?"

"Best as I can tell, the Bunker is right now the safest outpost near the West Coast. We've…we've had casualties already. The Burning Crosses have already hit our outpost up in Washington. We don't know if anyone survived."

Her dread grew. "When will they be here?"

"Best estimate, in the next few hours. Get your own Red Flag set up as soon as, Sam. The Bunker is not marked as best as we can tell, but that can change at any moment."

"I understand. Thank you, Carl."

"This line will be pulled, next. Sam, the Seven have voted. No restrictions, no regulations. If any of you have to put one of these sons of bitches in the ground, do so."

Endgame, she reminded herself. "I'll tell the others. Carl…whatever happens…give them Hell. To those still with us."

"For those who are not."

Then the line was pulled and Sam knew that AESIR was truly shattered. It's our job to pick up the pieces, she told herself.

Washington County, Utah

Sunday 25th June 2017 07:58 AM

Slowly, knowing he was anticipating something, Mike stepped out of the car. As he did so, Dave and Cassidy practically materialised next to him and they all stared up at the old, decrepit house in the middle of the savannah.

Once he trusted himself to speak, he looked down at Cassidy again. "And you're sure you don't know anything?"

"Oh, yeah, I hang around hermits all the time." She sniffed, "It's my favourite pastime. Of course I don't know anything, numbnuts!"

Turn the other cheek, Mike reminded himself. "I'm just saying, I'd prefer not to spook some poor man by turning up on his doorstep looking like a zombie if there's no point."

Shaking his head, he strolled up to the front door, trying to keep himself fully visible. Though true he knew now that a bullet wouldn't be as deadly as it was before-albeit he'd been dealing with a newly-gained hole in his right shoulder-he knew it would be a hindrance.

He reached the front door after stepping up onto the stoop and, after some hesitation, knocked on it. Then he waited, listening out for any sign that someone was around.

When there was none, he knocked again. No sound.

Scowling at him, Cassidy gave a low sound of irritation, "We just gonna keep doing this all morning?"

"Well, I'm not breaking in." He responded quietly.

"The owner's either not here, fast asleep, or he's dead."

"Doesn't change the fact that breaking in is illegal."

"Once again, you really seem to like picking and choosing-"

"Nobody's home." Dave's voice suddenly cut through their conversation. Exchanging a surprised glance between themselves, Mike and Cassidy searched for him and found him leaning from the corner of the house to their right.

Staring at him, Mike asked, "How do you know?"

"I had a look whilst you two were talking."

Cassidy sniffed, "Are you sure you two are related?"

Unable to stave his small smile, Mike stepped off the stoop and followed Dave around the corner, Cassidy in tow. They reached the back door and, with a few attempts at the poor excuse of a lock, opened the door.

Then he stepped inside, finding an interior that, whilst a little tattered, was still clearly looked after to a degree.

"Hm." He muttered, "It's clearly not abandoned. Just about livable."

Dave nodded. "It's got a nice feel to it. Very…rustic."

"I have no idea what that means." Crossing her arms, Cassidy gave him a slight elbow, "I'd say it looks more crusty."

Though he'd been told that they were in the clear, Mike still felt his actions weigh down by his caution. "Alright, let's have a look around. See where our hermit's gone and who he is."

Creeping into the living room, Mike searched quickly for any further signs that this house was indeed inhabited. Though there was dust on the furniture and the windows were dirty, it wasn't like it was untouched. Simply not cared for very well.

As he turned the corner, he saw Dave stepping carefully just down the hallway. Turning, he spoke out, "There's a staircase here!"

Makes sense, Mike mused. There were clear signs of the house being more than a single story. "Cass, you two go have a look. I'll keep an eye on things down here."

She shrugged, "Anything to be away from you. C'mon Dave, we can use him as a scapegoat if need be."

As the two ghosts went upstairs, never making a single sound to indicate themselves, Mike shook his head, still disbelieving. Between the two of them, they could probably search an entire building and never leave a trace they were there. Ghosts, he thought, bemused. I'm a long way away from fighting robots in a pizzeria.

As he brushed around a corner, Mike paused, then looked down. There was a noticeable incline in the foundation, blocked off by a small wall. That looks like another staircase to me.

Sure enough, as he then turned, he saw the familiar sign of a door, disguised quite well as a part of the wall. With an outstretched hand, he reached for it…

…and then froze when he heard the metallic clunk he recognised as a firearm.

"I suppose you're looking for something?" A man's voice, older than his own, spoke with a layer of experience, "Or someone?"

That's a shotgun, Mike knew. Somehow, he doubted a slug to the chest would have the same effect as a single shot from a revolver. Lifting his hands up carefully, Mike hesitated.

"That's it." The man said, almost reassuring, "Got the right idea. Now turn around. Slowly."

As he did so, he spotted his two companions watching from around the corner. They clearly heard the guy. Trying not to look in their specific direction, he heard them talking.

"We have to do something!" Dave urged.

But Cassidy snorted, "I dunno, I reckon we let it play out. Winner takes all."

"Cassie!"

"Alright, alright, let me think…"

Scanning the room, she stopped at something and a smirk came across her face. When Mike saw her closing in on a bottle, one that looked heavy, he shook his head.

She saw that and scowled.

"So…" The man, elderly yet clearly not a pushover, raised an eyebrow. "Stranger. Why did you decide to come all the way out here? Just to rob an old man?"

"No." Mike answered carefully, "I'm guessing I'm here to talk to an old man. My name is-"

"Michael." He acknowledged.

That threw him off. "You know me?"

"We've met. Perhaps not in a way you would recall. You were a little more…solid."

Mike knew immediately what he was referring to. Accepting it, he carefully raised his hands to his hood, lifted it off, and then took his mask off. If the man was disgusted by his dead, purple face, he didn't show it.

"So if you're done breaking in," He continued, "how about we have a nice talk? It's been a while."

"I suppose so." Mike inclined his head respectfully, "And it's always good to talk to a friend in a high place."

Hurricane, Utah

Sunday 8th March 2015, 01:39 AM

Growling through bloody teeth, Dutch Lawson heaved the dead weight onto his back and fireman carried him down the alleyway. Once he was a safe distance away, hearing the familiar sounds of sirens closing in on the burning building left in their wake, he spotted the car.

He dropped the detective hard onto the ground, ripped his own burnt coat off his back and heard it tear off his flesh, Then he opened the back door before dragging Caine inside, slamming the door shut and driving off.

Nearest ER, he decided quickly, knowing that as long as he dumped his burden off, they would take care of him. That was until he heard the crackle on the other end of the stolen police radio hooked up on the dashboard.

"Ten-seventy-one has been confirmed," someone spoke over it, "ten-sixty-six to be issued. Suspects seen heading east and south from site."

They know it's not just a fire, he quickly realised. Worse still, they had clearly spotted this car leaving from around the site. Gritting his teeth, he glanced back at the unconscious form of his archenemy.

ER's not an option, he accepted. Neither was trying to work out where the hell he and his lot had been setting up. There was only one way to go.

Slamming on the pedal, Dutch changed course and began heading west out of the town. What mattered first was avoiding any checkpoints and patrols. Killing a few cops was only going to make a bad situation worse.

Once he reached the edge of town, he twisted the car onto the dirt roads and into the wilderness. He eventually reached a long stretch of savannah and continued through the uneven off road terrain.

At some point, the sound of Caine's voice only infuriated Lawson further.

"Wh…" He gasped quietly, "Where…"

"Ah, you awake, princess?" Lawson sighed, "Just as I was thinkin' me night couldn't get any worse…then again, suppose misery loves company, aye?"

But Caine didn't seem to hear him. "Sam…"

"Not quite that pretty, no."

When Caine didn't say another word, Lawson looked back and saw that he was unconscious again; simply a burnt wreck of what he once was. With a snort, Lawson thought to himself, bloody fool's probably crippled, anyway. Might just be a mercy to put a bullet in his head now.

Yet despite himself, that barely became a genuine consideration. A deep resentment filled him as he recalled laying on that filthy floor, looking up as Caine had been moments away from shooting him. Do it, Lawson had demanded internally with a grin, do it, you damn bastard.

But he hadn't and Lawson knew that it was unforgivable; unforgivable that, one-on-one, Caine had beaten him and spared his life.

Oh, I will be puttin' a bullet in ya, Tommy, he breathed, one day. When yer back up and runnin' and we meet on the battlefield again. Then I'll kill ya."

Finally, Lawson spotted the lone house out in the open and slammed on the brakes outside. He hurried to the door, dragged Caine out, then heaved him over to the front door. Not even waiting to knock, he kicked the door open and screamed out.

"Henry!"

Hearing a scuffling in one of the other rooms, Lawson ignored the man carrying his shotgun as he rushed in, focusing on getting the detective inside.

"Lawson?" The man, elderly as when Lawson had last seen him, lowered the shotgun warily, "What in the…who is that?"

Dutch growled, "What, you want a bloody meet n' greet? Help me out here!"

Hurrying over to help him, Henry took the burnt man by the other arm and helped Dutch drag him towards the basement door. They both descended and entered the room, placing Caine on the table.

Henry gave a sharp intake of breath as he better assessed his injuries. "Lawson…I don't know what you expect of me, here."

"Ye got medical equipment here!" Dutch spat, "Do something!"

"I'm not a doctor!" He retorted, though he rushed to start wheeling the equipment including a set of IV bags and anything else he had in his rustic basement, "You need to get him to a hospital!"

"They're issuing APBs all over the damned county! We turn up at one of your bloody yanky hospitals, this little operation of yours goes down in flames!" He eyed Caine's body as the monitor started beeping, "Pardon the bad taste…"

Shaking his head in disgust, Henry didn't argue any further. He started to medicate to the best of his abilities and that was proven when Caine began to convulse.

Then the monitor flatlined.

"Do something!" Dutch snarled.

"There's nothing I can do!" Henry screamed back in anger, "He was dead the moment you brought him here!" He grabbed the defibrillators and prepared them. "Clear!"

He pressed down on Caine's chest and his body convulsed. The sound of the monitor didn't change.

Don't you die, you son of a bitch, Lawson gritted his teeth, not yet.

"Clear!" Henry tried again.

Nothing happened.

Get up.

"Clear!"

Nothing happened.

Get up!

Shaking his head in dismay, Henry spoke his words one last time. "Clear!"

Yet when he went to press down one last time, he didn't make it. Instead, he was forced back and Dutch felt himself be lifted off his feet. Landing heavily on the ground, he rolled, took out his knife, and searched eagerly for whatever had attacked him.

All he saw was Henry on the ground nearby, staring up with wide eyes. When Dutch found what had sent the man into a stupor, he met the same fate.

There was a little girl, perhaps no older than seven, standing by Caine's broken, dying body. Brown straight hair fell down past her shoulders and she had sad eyes. One small hand, a neon green bracelet around it, reached for Caine's own tattered hand.

As she touched it, Caine's body nearly glowed. A blinding light covered Lawson's vision and as it cleared, he saw that the girl was gone.

The long siren of the heart monitor slowed and resumed into steady beeps.

When Dutch saw Henry unsteadily heading back to the table, he demanded, "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know." Henry answered faintly.

"Is he alive?"

He didn't answer.

"Henry? Is he alive?"

"He shouldn't be. His heart…that's obviously still working. Without better equipment…without an actual doctor…I don't know."

"Then get 'em." Dutch hissed, "Keep 'im alive. Get him back up. If he dies, I swear…it won't be Fazbear Entertainment ye need to worry about."

Finally breaking his gaze away from the burnt man, Henry glared at Lawson without fear. "Mind telling me who he is?"

"Ya don't need to worry about who he is." Lawson curled his lip before turning and heading back upstairs, "Just keep him alive."

These first two chapters have had a lot of moving pieces that I've been trying to juggle, so apologies if it's been condensed. It should slow down a little bit for the rest of the act.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: No worries mate, you were right on time! I was always planning on this story to bring all the pieces throughout the series together, which was sort of fitting considering the nature of the game it's based around. Regarding the flashforward, it was a sort of an unexpected thing, considering that usually the segments at the beginning of my stories with the prologues, epilogues, and act starts were flashbacks previously. My biggest concern has been naming the souls, as like you said, having them unnamed up until this point was noticable. I was thinking about easing it in to naming them, but in the end decided just to do it. There might be a chapter later where it explains a bit. And yep, I've loved writing the interactions between Mike and the souls so far. Bringing back the Crucible into the thick or things was always going to happen, simply because they left some major issues unresolved after their attacking with the Nightingales went sour. As for the detective himself, perhaps he did indeed die that night. It seems something refused to allow him to move on, however. Now I'm going to shut my mouth before I give too much away.