Semi-Request #2

"So, how'd it happen to ye?"

The golden bear did not answer, nor was it expected to. It's form evaporated into a yellow mist that swirled and churned in the air. It rocketed towards a corner of the room, and dissipated as soon as it did so.

Radio static came from a cardboard box nestled in the corner. Foxy stepped towards it, as the static cleared up and turned into noise. Within the cardboard box were microphones, all suddenly turned on with the tell-tale red, LED light at the base of the microphone blinking. All of them spoke at once, in a neutral, emotionless tone. Of the dozens of voices, none drowned the others out. They spoke as a symphony.

"It was a busy day. Nobody noticed it when He took me to the parts room. He put a helmet on me, and told me that if I kept it on, Freddy and Foxy and the rest would come to me while He grabbed something, made of metal. A tire iron.  I felt something hit my head, and some wetness. Everything around me blurred for a few seconds until my head collapsed.  When I woke up, I was in my new body. But there was someone else inside my body too. A man."


The microphones stopped blinking, their lights an empty, dull shade of red. Their inaction continued for a few seconds. The lights lit up again, and continued blinking once more.

"People were laughing. Watching me. I was enraged. How could they tease me? Laugh at my suffering? My agony? Something inside of me clenched instinctively. I felt something inside of me tighten and collapse, and then their laughter turned into screams, as the man dripped out of me. The Workers; the ones like Him- they took me back to the parts room and took me apart. I saw them take off my limbs, and my head and attempt to free the man inside of me. But by then it was too late. As they wheeled off my arms and legs, I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror.

I couldn't see myself anymore. Instead all I saw was the bear, which was familiar to me. But it was now red. They took apart my head and all I saw was darkness, for a long time. Until I woke up one day, on that same table. Looking in the mirror, I saw that I was cleansed of the blood. I saw that I had my arms and legs again. But it didn't feel right. Something was missing. I wandered around for a while and tried to decipher my situation. I didn't understand that I was dead until nobody noticed me when I touched them. Except for our Benevolent Patron. He explained it to me. He had given me the best he could've in light of my unusual circumstances. I could finally interact and manifest because of him. However temporary these manifestations are."

The fox nodded, and his jaw swung down.  "Aye, we do have a lot to thank him for. But he's a slippery bastard, that puppet. But when he got me, I wasn't even this thing. I was a heap o' parts, all mangled ta hell and back. Our 'benevolent patron' kept tellin' me that this body I've got here now was 'reserved', whatever the hell that means. It was only after that Jeremy lad got his brain split in two, and things all went ta hell that I could actually move in. Of course, you're lucky. You can pick what you go into, we've gotta rely on him for that kinda stuff."

"I would trade everything I have right now for the opportunity to live some semblance of a life again," the microphones replied.

A silence lingered in the room too long for comfort.


"Well, I s'pose we should get ta work" Foxy said, as he pulled a trash can towards the table. A black bag lined the sides; glimmering in the darkness like a beetle's shell.

"Is what we're doing right?", asked the box of microphones. "Do the Workers truly deserve this?"

"What d'ya mean?"

The box of microphones rattled violently, and blinked off. The yellow mist emerged from the microphones, and swirled around the bloodied Freddy suit that sat on the table, before seeping through the shoulders and entering the inner robotic workings. The blood-coated LED eyes lit up with a crimson tint, having crusted over. The robot began to come to life.

"It's barbaric," the neutral voice crackled. "All this violence, only for it to be undone again?" One hand slowly lifted over to grab the other, and gripped it before attempting to pull it apart. A loud popping was heard as the hand was removed, and taken by Foxy.

"Well, they did do it ta you," Foxy said as he deposited the bleeding hand into a trash can. It landed on some uneaten slices of pepperoni pizza and a cup of soda.

"Yes, exactly. But they couldn't have known I was in there. Nobody could've known," the suit said as it attempted to reach across it's body. It wasn't quite articulated for the action, and struggled futilely, punctuated by a pitiful whine emitted by the arm's motors.

Foxy reached out with his hook, and severed the arm from the body entirely. The arm gushed blood, which was squeezed into the trashcan before being dropped into it. The arm fell to the bottom with a metallic clatter.

"Who knows, I wouldn't push it past these bastards. They employed Him for years, y'know." The brown bear's legs jerked up off the table, with the remaining hand clenching the edge of it for support.

"Push," said the bear.

Foxy spread the legs, and continued pushing them further and further until the remaining muscle tissue and joints had been obliterated completely, and at which point both legs sloughed off with relative ease, akin to dining on a crab. Foxy tossed both legs into the trash can.

"Fer someone so lily-livered about the process, you're pretty gung-ho about tearin it apart now," Foxy said.

"I don't want to draw out the process any longer than I have to," said the bear. "This one's different, I can feel it inside."

Foxy bent down to the lump of metal, fabric, and gore, and stared at the hanging eyeballs. "Well, we'll be done soon enough buddy. Just got a couple quick n' easy steps, and you're good ta go."

The remaining hand gripped the left end of the lower jaw. Foxy walked around the table and gripped the right end of the upper jaw, while sliding his hook underneath and anchoring it in the flesh for support. As Foxy and the bear's hand pulled in their own directions, a loud shriek emitted from the speakers and refused to end. The head split in two in a torrent of blood and bone, as a yellow stream shot out of the gushing stump that was once Freddy's jaw. It swirled around chaotically before barreling out of the room.

Foxy hesitated to find the correct answer to the question that didn't have to be asked.

"It must've been my hook, draggin' on the metal," Foxy said as he used his hand to slide off Freddy's jaw off the hulk. It fell into the trashcan ungracefully.

Foxy paused, looking at his handiwork. He pushed the remaining carcass of Freddy and a security guard into the trash can, before tying the bag shut and lifting it out of the bin. As he walked out of the room, the bells that signified the arrival of 6 am rang out.

"Yeah, it must've been my hook," Foxy repeated to himself.