Sunday, July 23, 2017, 10:00 AM

Mike wished he could have been elsewhere. Probably church, considering it was Sunday morning, but fishing on a lake also would have been nice. Or running. Instead, he hunched over his laptop in the dining area, trying his best not to yawn. The animatronics were on their phones or computers, except for Mary, who was jacked directly into the Internet.

What a nightmare that must have been. Thankfully, she could filter out the majority of it so that her mind wasn't flooded with a constant torrent of porn and hate speech. It also made the rest of them largely redundant, as she reacted at the speed of thought while they were tied to the quickness of their own bodies. Still, she could only browse so many sales simultaneously. That was where the rest came in for trawling the entire web for places to buy things they needed at the cheapest price.

Mike already handled the small stuff yesterday by purchasing salt and charcoal from the grocery store. The other 90 percent of the list was what they dealt with presently, and they looked for it on Amazon, eBay, Craigslist and dozens of smaller, more niche sites. They even checked emporiums and curiosity shops across the region, since Mike would have to go there and buy this stuff directly if it couldn't be shipped. His fingers refined his search to be a little more specific, but he still came up short.

Freddy let out a yawn, and it spread in a circle around the room. Mike was the last to catch the bug, and he stretched his arms over his head. Then they kept looking at their screens. May as well have been teenagers.

You're too cruel, Mike, he chided himself. He'd have done the exact same thing if this technology existed back in the day. He remembered playing Pokémon on the Game Boy Color for hours at a time.

"Oh," Bonnie exclaimed, excitedly showing everyone that he'd found the exact amount of bismuth they needed on some mineral resale site he'd never heard of. "Should I order it?" Mike had given the animatronics his bank information, so they'd be able to buy something if they saw it. Just a little more convenient for everyone.

"Uh, let's see if we can find it anywhere else for cheaper first." Bonnie could make the purchase if they didn't by the end of the day. He wanted this stuff as quickly as possible so they could start learning the magic spell or whatever the Hell it turned out to be.

Mike didn't consider himself a rich man, yet when he looked at it objectively, he kind of was. Though not a millionaire, he had a few hundred thousand dollars put away over the years. That was more than most Americans. He gave a good amount of his income to different charities, too; otherwise, he'd have even more.

Fazbear's was the most successful business in town. He had little interest in vacation or other luxuries. The animatronics drew no salary, much as he wished they could, and he was the only human employee. He still lived in his old house, so he didn't need to buy a new one - that erased the biggest money sink a lot of people his age dealt with. The other big one was student loan debt, but he'd taken the shortest timeline on those and ended up being debt-free only five years after graduating.

His phone erupted from within his pocket, making him yank it out and look at the caller ID. It was just the person he expected. Mike cringed, knowing this wouldn't be a fun conversation after what he'd just requested of her via text…

He excused himself and trudged back to his office, picking up the call along the way. He breathed through clenched teeth, trying not to sound as tense as his body insisted on being.

"Uh, hi, Syl," he spoke, closing the office door behind him.

"Hello," she replied. Her inflection wasn't outright repulsed, yet she clearly wanted no part in his idea as she cut to the chase. "How important is this?"

"Lives are a-at stake." Maybe not his life, but many others. If Auric was immortal and could hypothetically go to other universes, his body would be literally infinite. If not, he'd "only" last until the death of this one. The science was still out on how it'd end, be that expanding forever or contracting into a singularity, but Mike figured he'd kill at least a billion more people (the vast majority of those being aliens, but still people) if he kept his current pace. Even the less extreme version equalled a huge chunk of humanity.

He needed what she was able to give him. While he could technically obtain it elsewhere, he didn't want to deal with the costs - financial, moral or both - of doing so. He'd beg if he needed to, but she did not let it go that far.

"That's all I wanted to hear. Because this will get me fired if anyone finds out." He knew that, which was why he hated to ask. "No, it'll get me fired and then sued for… I don't even know what." She sighed; Mike wasn't the only one who needed to make tough choices. "But I know what you're doing is worth it, Mike. You already know this, but I'm proud of you. I'll have the stuff ready by tomorrow."

"I'll be, um, over later this week, Sylvia." His mind wandered back to all those years ago, when his sister asked if he returned to Seattle on Christmas to snort powdered cocaine with junkie pals. The truth was so much weirder. It would have been easier for everyone if that was what happened - but he was so glad his life ended up the way it did. "Thanks for doing this."

She hung up right away, not bothering to say goodbye. That was fine; she needed to get back to saving lives as quickly as she could as a doctor. Only hoped he could do the same in a less conventional way. I'm glad no one else needed to hear that.

Mike left the room as quickly as he entered. As he did, he heard another door open on the other side of the building.

10:15 AM

The bell attached to the front doors dinged as someone new entered the arena. Or, more precisely, an old friend whom Foxy hadn't greeted in too long. The animatronics hadn't seen June for any great length since the funeral. It had only been a nod when she came to pick Mike up for bowling. A blast of warm air followed her in, and she had her motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm.

"What's up?" she asked, though she already knew what they did. That was why she came.

"The ceiling," Bonnie shot back without thinking, which made Chica double over with laughter. Foxy couldn't hold back a chuckle, either. Top-tier comedy like this was why they remained relevant after so long! But really, she needed a laugh.

It had been nearly two weeks since the funeral - even longer since Jeremy died - and she slowly recovered. She smiled at the lame joke, though she didn't quite guffaw. The same thing must have happened when she and Mike went bowling, yet it felt more significant that she was comfortable doing it around everyone. They all shared such pain.

Foxy had never experienced the death of a friend or relative until Jeremy passed, so this was new to her, too. Not that Foxy wanted to make this about herself, yet she knew what June went through, having grieved, too. Her world was a little smaller without him in it, and that went for everyone. No point bringing it up, though. This wasn't about the past, but the future.

"I'm here to help," she declared. "Not much else going on Sundays, anyway."

"Glad ta' have ye aboard, matey!" Foxy exclaimed, leaning back in her seat.

"Thanks." She cracked another wry smile. June tried to perform the accent before, Foxy remembered, and she mangled it. She even asked if Foxy thought it was cultural appropriation for her to mimic it! A fair question, and she was the only person to ever ask, yet Foxy saw no problem at all.

"Pirate" wasn't an ethnic group (much as she wished it could be). In fact, she was flattered whenever anyone adopted it while talking to her… though it could be difficult to keep up.

Freddy cleared his throat and patted the table they sat around. "Pull up a chair and start searching," he said while pulling a piece of paper forward. "Here's a list of everything we need." A few items had been crossed out, but many more still needed to be found. The numbers stretched into the dozens. She obliged the bear's offer, sitting with one leg crossed over the other. Good, she could join the rest in not looking at each other. In a second, anyway.

"Hey, you're here!" Mike exclaimed as he walked in after having his brief (and undoubtedly embarrassing) conversation with his sister.

"Wouldn't miss an exciting shopping session like this for anything." Mike sat across from her, which left seven people at this damn table. Despite being able to fit far more, it felt a little cramped. Being flustered, they naturally put out a lot of heat, which made them sweat despite having the air conditioning on.

June took out her phone and got to work. This was the only thing they'd be doing for the week they allotted to buying stuff, unless they finished early, so they all needed to get comfy. "Meteorite sample," she read, her eyes naturally going to the item that had been underlined and circled.

She must have typed that in first, for she nearly choked on the water she drank. Foxy flinched; she'd done the same thing upon first seeing how much this thing cost. Even as someone who primarily thought of money in terms of doubloons and pieces of eight, this was highway robbery. "Are - are you seriously spending 5,000 dollars on a rock?!"

"No, we found one listed for 3,900 which should fit the parameters, and we will keep looking for less expensive options," Mary said, typing without looking at the screen. "There are more expensive items, as well. I did not expect a kilogram of saffron to cost almost 10,000." June nearly dropped the bottle. She tried to give their friend a heart attack.

When June collected herself, she looked to Mike with a steely mien and said, "I didn't offer this before, but I'd be comfortable spending some of my savings on this if it comes to that."

"I hope it doesn't." It wasn't lost on Foxy that he didn't refuse. "Everything I - I have might be enough." He told them it'd be tight, even with his few stocks liquidated and added to the money pile. He would sell everything he owned except the restaurant if he needed to.

Her husband was a man possessed. Auric was his white whale, and nothing could be done to dissuade him. Not that any of them disagreed (except Mary, who still voiced quiet reservations), yet he was the one constantly driving them forward. He wanted to save people the way he saved her, and as he said earlier, destroying the demon could save infinite lives.

His dourness was not lost on June, who pointed at the paper and the few things crossed off.

"Looks like you've had some success." Mike just nodded. There was still a long way to go, and he didn't want to raise his hopes too high. June read another line aloud, this one unsettling her instead of shocking her with the price. "'Entire set of human bones?'

"I'm handling it." Foxy could do nothing but sympathize as he bent over and kept typing. It'd take a miracle to come out of this with their dignity intact. If it was a choice between that and their lives, though, she thought they could stand to debase themselves.

11:15 AM

Phil was human again. He ran his restaurant, played with kids and was loved by the people of Whitewater. His family and Mike forgave his many sins. People accepted animatronics as they were. Against all odds, he was content.

Until his alarm went off.

He groaned, struggling to stay asleep. It was such a nice dream. How many of those did he have? Surely he could afford to rest a little while longer. He reached for his phone to hit "snooze", only to realize he hadn't set an alarm. Why would I? There was nothing to wake up for, which was why he slept so long to begin with. Come to think of it, that wasn't the sound of a piano riff, which was what he'd set it to…

His eyes flew open, and he instinctively sprang off his cot. The claptrap of mechanical systems creaking to life erupted around him. He'd heard it before - but not this early in the year! Somebody was here with him, turning on the works. And Phil, idiot that he was, hadn't started to hide the evidence of his squatting, and he hadn't planned to for another week.

OK, he thought, switching off all the lights and electronics, I've done this before. Once. Only the previous year, and he'd need several more to get used to it. Still not accustomed to being so close to people after living alone in the woods for a decade before he moved into Fazbear's Fright. He stayed on his tiptoes as he began to investigate. It'd been proven hundreds of times over that he lacked detective skills, having made a deal with Auric in the first place, but he needed to try. The risk of being discovered was offset by being able to know what the Hell went on under his nose.

His investigations let him know that the functions of the animatronics could be accessed in every building, but only from the main office was everything in the park able to be activated at once. He assumed that was what happened since he heard the creepy calliope music coming from Bonnie's torture shack. Just need to get over there. Not even inside; his ears were good enough that he could listen in from outside and figure out what went on via eavesdropping.

Phil hastily exited his room and locked up behind him, sprinkling dust to cover his tracks. The chamber had been set up in such an unused part of the building that nobody had yet discovered it. Hopefully it remained that way. If it didn't, he'd need to get out of Dodge with nothing but the clothes on his back. Do I want to be found? he wondered. Sometimes wondered that. There had been a couple pictures taken of him over the years taken by hunters or hikers (and one time when he had too much booze from a dumpster and joined a Mardi Gras parade), but he got lucky that most were blurry and at a distance. One even got published in the penultimate issue of Weekly World News back in 2007 alongside Bat Boy titled "Green Sasquatch on the Loose in Cascades?!".

I still own a copy of that. As he left, though, something lunged at him from the darkness, making Phil shriek and nearly soil himself. His life flashed before his eyes as the force halted mere inches in front of his muzzle.

It turned out to be Jeff.

A canned laugh wafted from his flapping mouth before the arm he was attached to retracted behind the curtain like a demented jack-in-the-box, ready to spring out again when the next person passed the motion sensor. Phil sighed as his body let out the slightest bit of tension. He forgot his "friend" could be so scary. That was what he got for living in the world's most terrifying haunted facility, as the marketing trumpeted.

Now, it was time to become a ninja.

Phil stepped silently along. Now that he'd been jolted out of complacency, he remembered where all such sensors and scares were, despite them being inactive for months. He slid by, crawled under, or, in most cases, hopped over them. It never ceased to amaze him that he could now easily spring higher than a basketball player.

A shadow passed by on the far wall, making Phil duck into a small alcove as it dispersed. There was no sound accompanying the shape, which put Phil on edge. Also smelled nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't know whether it to be a human, an animatronic or a figment of his imagination. Or a ghost.

He crept on, eventually getting to a side entrance where he knew no one would be. Overnight rain had created patches of mud on an otherwise rocky path. Jumped over a puddle, then another. He didn't want to get filthy, and he also had a bad feeling about leaving conspicuous giant monster footprints all over the park.

Though he'd soon start making water of his own. The late-morning sun beat down on him, sapping his energy after only a second. Waves of heat radiated from the blacktop of the parking lot to his right. It got real hot, real fast. This might be the hottest day of the year. And good riddance to them.

The control building stood in the corner of the lot, near the junction of two sides of the chain fence topped with barbed wire. A red pickup was freshly parked out front, confirming his suspicions. The grass around it stood two feet tall, home to swarms of ticks, rats and snakes. Not that he had a problem with them - he left them alone, and they ignored him. They were about to be evicted, anyway. All of that would be moved prior to opening, and a couple decorations would probably be hung from this structure to make it stick out less.

The noise of a conversation drifted through the plywood door, and the bunny silently crept closer to eavesdrop better on the owner or whoever entered his domain. Phil seized with tension as he ducked under a window and pressed a massive ear against the door.

I don't want to kill anyone, he told himself, hoping it was true. He'd never stooped to that before. If spotted, though, he might not have a choice; he needed to preserve his own existence. As it was, he quieted his mind and tried to listen over the sound of blood pounding in his head. Fortunately, the person inside talked to someone on the phone - the Director of Operations, perhaps - which allowed him to gauge what happened.

While Phil didn't hear everything, he picked up enough to get the gist of the situation: opening came sooner this year.

The place made enough money that the operating season was extended two weeks earlier, with preparations being advanced by an equal amount. It wasn't that surprising. Halloween was the next major holiday after the Fourth of July, and stores already had fake pumpkins in the display windows. Cash was being left on the table. The person inside sounded pretty smug.

Phil didn't know what to think. While he wanted to see people again, it always came with the risk that someone would figure out what he was. That would bring about all the consequences he thought too often about: capture by the government, dissection and the only people he ever cared about suffering the same fate. How much was too much when it came to seeing people?

The question was answered for him when another noise snapped him to attention. The door squeaked open. Idiot!

Phil could have frozen, as some prey animals did. The rabbit part of him wanted to. But, no matter what he went through, the human stayed stronger. He leapt behind the door as it opened, making his long ears droop so they didn't stick over the top. The man walked out as the door swung shut. Quiet as Phil was, he couldn't flee without being heard now. All he could do was hope the guy didn't turn. Otherwise, well… he didn't want to think about what needed to be done.

"Ah, Hell," the man muttered to himself. He took a step forward. Another. Phil's heart pumped faster than a thrash drummer.

The guy stopped in his tracks. Did he know?! Phil sure didn't. But before he made a move, his cell phone started blaring Madonna. He reached into his pocket, flipped it out and started arguing with the person on the other end. Phil had no idea what his deal was, and he didn't care. It was enough of a distraction to walk behind the building, stand in the insect-infested foliage and wait until the guy left. At least he was in the shade and out of the humid oven. Phil released a long sigh as the sound of an engine started up and then faded.

And the only thing he took away from it was the boss saying they were poised to have their biggest season yet. By a lot. The Fazbear myth just got bigger, attracting more fans, ranging from normal people who took an interest in the "story" to freaks who openly idolized him, the serial killer. That last group made him want to vomit. Even if they thought it was fake, what kind of psychos did the world produce? Ones still better than me. The hype would surely subside in a year or two - but for the time being, it was a complete juggernaut. One that could be exploited and changed by anyone, as it was in the public domain instead of intellectual property.

And during that period, some people would see the fictional version of him as an icon.

He sighed as he emerged from behind the shed, shaking his legs to remove tiny pests from them. Felt ticks burrow into his fur already. He'd need to check his entire lower body later and yank the fuckers out. This body made him immune to all diseases, including tick-borne ones, which was why he hadn't died of dysentery years ago. Things still itched when they bit him, though, and they were hard to remove from fur. That'd happen a lot for the coming months, as he increasingly ventured outside.

He stopped in the middle of the gravel road, for an idea suddenly sprang into his head.

I could leave. The thought was dismissed as quickly as it crossed his mind. Sounded ridiculous after only a moment's consideration. There was nowhere to go. He was cursed to wander the Earth, anathema to all; nobody would accept him. That made his current dwelling as good as any, even if he pitched his tent in such a strange place. Well…

There was one place he could hypothetically seek refuge. In practice, though, he'd never be able to go home again. He repulsed the only people who knew he existed - for good reason. Still, the thought of checking in came to him several times over the years. He had the place's phone number, if that still worked. It likely didn't, though - he saw no reason a landline would still function in the current era.

Ultimately, though, it would have been selfish to bother them. It'd mean dragging them back to the worst parts of their lives. He really did love them… so he needed to stay as far away from them as possible. But it's been so long. Part of him insisted that he deserved to be forgiven. He'd wandered the world for longer than he'd been a killer. When would his penance be sufficient?!

"Maybe never," he muttered to himself, continuing back the way he came. He felt empty. At least he didn't cry for hours like he used to. Maybe he could have made a friend or two online, but that wouldn't have helped much, he suspected. He wanted to be loved and accepted for who he was, not a lie through a screen.

A sense of doom settled over him like a weighted blanket as he leaned against the side of Foxy's evil pirate ship, where her zombie crew flayed innocent people alive as "he" sailed the seas, looking for more victims. That wasn't even the worst of them; Chica could sue for libel if she had human rights, because the depiction of her was both disgusting and lewd. Phil grimaced as he looked at the building, which was a combination of farmhouse and brothel.

Well, the place knew a good chunk of its audience. To be fair, there was no reason to be bound by good taste when sane people thought this to be nothing more than a story.

His head fell between his knees. He dreamed of a better life, one where all his sins were forgiven.

But he couldn't go home. He couldn't call them. Even if he could, he'd throw up before he started pouring his heart out to people who may not have realized it was him. What else could he do? It had been almost 20 fucking years since he had any contact with anyone. His hands clenched the fur on his head and tore out chunks of green hair. Any more, and he'd start bleeding brown from his scalp.

Surely there was something, he thought. If not, he'd lose his mind and start thinking Jeff was real. It wouldn't be tomorrow, and it might not even be next year, but one day he'd either snap, be caught or die of old age or an accident. He couldn't take it anymore. It took everything in him not to unleash an existential scream into nature. The old days weren't as long ago as he thought.

Even though people were coming soon, he'd still be alone.

1:00 PM

Auric stirred from his torpor. Not sleep: he did not need it, though he simulated it when he "shut down". Much like a bear, whose form he still inhabited, even if it fell apart from years of rot and weather. It didn't matter.

What did concern him was the heady mixture brewing in his hollow gut. A human might have called it indigestion, yet he lacked a stomach and never ate anything in his life. The closest he got was sampling his slaves' senses when he possessed them. That was always transitory. The sensation he currently marinated in lasted almost a day, and it gave no indication of abating. Auric scooped away the leaves he buried himself in to avoid detection. It was daytime now; time never had any meaning. The worms of the soil may as well have devoured his empty insides - even though they, like other creatures, stayed well away from him.

He stood up before doubling over, a deep moan escaping his body. He had never felt this way before. It was one of the few instances he certainly would have remembered if he had. He had no curses that could match what he felt.

Auric hoped this strange sensation would fade overnight. It did not, which meant he needed to either ignore it or turn to other solutions. He looked skyward - not at clouds or the blazing sun, but something far deeper, past reality itself. If he willed, he could be there in the twinkling of an eye.

The Akashic Records were the greatest source of wisdom in the universe: an infinite astral library of knowledge from alien species, extradimensional intelligences and entities greater even than he (difficult as it was to believe). Any answers to his unique condition would be found there, even if he needed to spend weeks or months searching the endless aisles. It tempted him. He nearly reached for that option before his better judgment kicked in.

In a flash of righteous pride, his heart was hardened, and he slammed that door in his own face. He arose from the ground, pacing the woods and muttering to himself in the tongues of old.

No, he could beat this himself. Though he'd never felt such anxiety, he was strong. Humans dealt with physical aches and pains. That was an omnipresent part of their physiology. How much greater was he than they?! He kept this up as the sun rapidly streaked across the sky, going from one one end to the other in a blink. Though he did not feel heat, beasts standing nearer to him than usual to bask in his natural chill informed him that it was unusually warm. The throbbing did not let up. In fact, it may have become slightly worse.

The day ended where it began: under the canopy of a tree that served as his shell's resting place. He slumped down, not feeling tired, but perhaps experiencing some inkling of what that might have been like. It was temporary, he told himself. Nothing lasted forever - except him.

He needed to find another way to distract himself from this feeling until it subsided. And the most obvious way he could think of to do so was to continue plotting his next kill. It would be sooner rather than later.

…

As I said, things have picked up a little! Things are happening, if the problems are more logistical than physical. I almost wanted to have Mike and Foxy raiding ancient temples for some of the ingredients, but that wouldn't fit the story. They had their action-packed adventure last time. For now, they're keeping things smaller.

I've gotten my CDL and started my job! It's going very well so far; I'm just nailing down my route and calling parents to let them know I'll be transporting their kids for the upcoming school year. The pay isn't bad, either. And, rather than losing time to write, I am hoping I'll have even more time to dedicate to this. Going back to my house takes a while, so I'm staying at the dispatch office between runs most days. When I'm there, I don't have much to do but write. In fact, I'm typing these words there right now! But we'll see if that's still the case in the future, or if other things will come up.

Follows, favorites and especially reviews are appreciated. Those last ones let me know what you think, be it good or bad. I hope you guys enjoyed the update, and I'll see you next time.