*Eight dirty bulbs cast a distorted slant of light over my tired shoulders. Shoulders with an entire world resting on them. But that was long ago, and that world has crumbled. My doing, but that’s ok.*

*My old hands are near-useless now, burnt and fickle, but still, I have strength enough to clamp the scratched dirty gold breastplate closed over a matrix of levers and wires.*

*His hollow eyes question my resolve, accuse me with their treasonous stare.* Why do you do this to me? Why do you do it to yourself? Again?

*The answer is simple; I think one escaped the fire, the black one that holds the soul most dearest to me.*

*For so long I have labored here because of it. Ploughed my way through the wreckage, casting parts and pieces aside, traveling to countless scrapyards and hauling back the components that could be salvaged to this grey prison, all the while avoiding that damn Meisberger and the Animus Society.*

*Blueprints with tarnished and burnt edges from fire, litter my overcrowded workbench, a testament to my old friend’s legacy, one we started together - in another life.*

*My life’s work bound within leather pages stolen, for what use? I am uncertain. I can only hope it’s not decipherable. The rusty surface of the scrap pieces distorts my appearance, the age still apparent in my sagging face and grey eyes. The torment I’ve done and have had done unto me, visible in the deep furrows on my brow, and sunken sockets.*

*Age. It’s a fickle thing; couple that with a multitude of mistakes and you have a recipe for desperation. I never intended things to happen as they did, but that was neither here nor there.*

*Only this remains. This last piece of* my *legacy. The gleam of the metallic face instills horror within me still; what once aimed to brighten up a child’s day has turned into a nightmare. A scrap of cloth from my side covers his face now as I can’t bear to look at him, even though I still know what lies beneath.*

*Am I to go where I inadvertently cast those poor souls? Am I strong enough to control my creations?*

*Maybe in mind but sadly, not in body, and not with the time I have left. But if they are still out there, the ones that escaped? Then surely it would be up to me to destroy them again. For I am Frankenstein, and they were my monsters.*

*A small pip escapes my captive, forcing my eyes closed does nothing to help my guilt. It would seem that it was the only way. After days, weeks, no, months of research and experimentation I could not find another way. It would seem my old friend knew this also.*

*The concrete walls contract again and my left hand straightens as my hand forms a claw. The seizure only lasts a second or more, but it’s enough to take its toll on me. A hot flush runs my body and sweat breaks out on my brow. My vision narrows just like this tunnel, before I have to close my eyes again.*

*My time is running out. I know they’re coming. Damn Meisberger.*

*However, my newest creation is nearly complete, just a few more parts and then, with the child’s help, we can be ready for them, for when they come.*

*You may wonder why I pen this now. Why I bother to assimilate my horrors to these decrypted pages.*

*I digress that it’s the rambling of an old man, one who wishes to purge his soul. But I fear that isn’t something I have left.*

*I do not believe I started out as an evil man; on the contrary, I believe that all my intentions were for the benefit of others, all my labors to entertain families.*

*My old friend changed that with a deed I could never forgive, never forget. He needed to pay and pay he did, but, in doing so, I created the monsters like this one under the cloth in front of me, and earned the ire of  my former colleagues, who now see me as an apostate, I’m sure.*

*I should have burnt those pages and the horrors that have come from them. I always feared that maybe someone would use them, cracking the codes and deciphering the instructions within; alas, perhaps someone already did.*

*The child murmurs again, and I can’t bring myself to look at her in the eyes. Soon another vengeful soul will be trapped within my metal prison.*

*The trickle of water somewhere off plays havoc with my mind like a torture technique used by merciless men. The last piece of the spring trap slips into place, and I finally stand back and take in the whole masterpiece before me. It’s not my best work but under the circumstances...*

*The girl cries as power runs to the collaboration of parts, and it starts to move, sluggishly at first, but with a little oil, the squeals go silent. Just like hers will too.*

*Twenty and five before her, this my last attempt. How did he do it? I am vexed, What was the secret? Fate indeed has a sense of irony. Without my notes and without William... I am at a loss. Something is missing, I thought first that it was in the code, then maybe a malfunctioning component. Each time another soul lost to my failure, each time another part of my soul stripped from me.*

*What is it damn it! Even now he has found a way to torture me from the grave.*

*The drum of the animatronics is a sweet symphony that helps quieten my addled mind. Again I think about the one who has my work, a boy; how he came by procuring it, I do not know. All I know, no, hope, is that one: Animus wouldn’t find him, and two, that he cannot understand the workings in the pages. Because if he does, then I fear it will all start over again. It will bring about a new age, one of global tribulation, where those with the power and resources to do so will take what they want until there is nothing left.*

*Another seizure takes me, and I lose time, the blackness receding from my eyes. Picking myself up is getting harder, and each time another bruise or cut is added to my grim visage from the purple debris of the collapsed wall that litters the floor. I tire more with every moment and know that time isn’t my friend.*

*With everything set to the best of my experiments, I have no other recourse but to lose the last piece of my soul.*

*She screams again as I clamp my burnt hand around her hair. Golden hair so much like a little one I once knew. Her cornflower blue eyes settle on me, but they flicker with fear toward the Fredbear; it pains me that once, eyes like her would light up at my creation, but not like this.*

*All that was left was to take her life, spill her blood over the machine and wait. But alas my endeavors still prove futile. Again I have failed. I can not bring myself to capture or buy another child. Can not bring myself to waste their crimson innocence to bring this monster to life anymore.*

*The Fredbear sits in a slouched posture, hand extended to the side, propping itself up. Reds, blue, gold and green, a mish-mash of parts assembled haphazardly. The head moves slightly and a spark of something old shoots through my chest.*

*Was it Fear? Elation? Guilt?*

*But it goes still and will stay that way. Another seizure breaks me further, and I find I am tired of this life. I do not fear death - even knowing what awaits me.*

*I tried to correct the first wrongs I had unleashed, but it seems that they were never mine to destroy. Maybe some higher power is at play; maybe these, my, creations, were in fact, never mine to begin with.*

*There is nothing left for me; the girl laying at my feet will bear witness to my final act even though her eyes are sightless. Death looks out of those innocent eyes with a blue-white haze, beckoning me to join him.*

*As for you, Elias; I am not sorry for what I did after we last spoke to each other face to face. And now these secrets shall follow me to the grave. By the time you or Meisberger find me, you will already have been too late.*

*And to my daughter, if you are still out there, perhaps you can succeed where I had failed. Perhaps it was fate that spared you from the fire; perhaps you were meant for a far greater purpose than we could ever have imagined.*

*So at last, my old friend, my time is at an end, and now I shall join you in the hell that we deserve. The depravities that we had unleashed will come tenfold unto us when we meet the devil.*

*And he is waiting for me.*

*That I have no doubt.*

***

>#Hurricane Police Department:
>**Forensics Division 84437**
>**Hurricane, UT**
>**Case record: HRY223.**
>**March 13, 2017**

>**ATTN: Chief of Police Clay Burke**

>**RE: VERIFICATION OF HANDWRITING:**

>**1.0 Introduction**

>Received on the 13th of March 2017 were the documents in question:

>* (i) 2 x A4 sheets of paper containing possible confession and testimony of one John Doe.
>* (ii) Photo of said John Doe with a Caucasian girl approx age 5-6 dressed in dress with bow in her hair. **Note:** written on back - “*When we were free.*”

>**2.0 Purpose**

>To ascertain whether or not the writing is that of John Doe found at scene and also to provide identity for deceased. (John Doe)

>**3.0 Forensic Examination**

>Police had been alerted to the scene after reports of gunshots. The body of the deceased was found along side a deceased Caucasian girl, approximately 8 years of age. Approximate time since death upon arrival - 12 hours. The deceased male had committed suicide with a shotgun blast to the chin, obliterating the majority of his head and initially rendering him unidentifiable. The girl had been encased within a golden-colored makeshift Freddy Fazbear animatronic, and **[REDACTED]**.

>I examined these documents visually and under VSC-6000 (Video Spectral Comparator), concluding that it is the handwriting of the deceased. Furthermore, blood traces found on document (i), and on the floor of the tunnel confirm positive match with deceased male.

>**Note:** Unexplained blood loss of deceased male. Reports show deceased male had far less blood than what was encountered at the scene, while the deceased girl didn’t.

>**4.0 Conclusion**

>Deceased is the author of document (i) and is also present in picture (ii). Identity matches one Henry **[REDACTED]**, founder of Fredbear’s Family Diner.

***

The cluttered desk received the letter and official forensic document like a papery compadre. Just another piece to my every growing mountain of clues surrounding the suspicious death of Tanner Albright.

Leaning back in my worn chair allows me a moment pause and pinching the bridge of my nose helps with my tired eyes. Something was happening, I was sure of that.

Tanner’s death may have been suicide, but I wasn’t quite buying it. Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing, and now references to The Animus Society were cropping up everywhere too.

“Blast...”

I reached for a post-it note and jotted down a few sentences. -

>“Find out more about Elias and Meisberger; could the Meisberger mentioned in this note be related to the Father Meisberger seen in the video documentation of case record 7ONU3I?”

After a few minutes of thought I stuck the note to the edge of the computer screen and leaned back in my chair again.

A small knock at the door breaks my train of thought.

“Come in.”

“Chief Burke?”

I study the man’s worn face. Pale and drawn with bag as big as cartwheel under his eyes. He hands me another file, I wonder if I look the same to him.

“Any good news at all sergeant?” I sigh. “God knows I need it.”

“Well, the book sir, it’s the one he’s referring to, the deceased male...”

“Henry?”

“Yes sir, Henry’s handwriting is all over the notebook you found on August 13th in Brushton.” - The officer looks at me quizzicly as I scan the file. - “Document 7NDD09 (vi), sir,  third page.”

The sergeant points over to the file in my hands as I rifle through the pages.

“I’ll be a monkey's uncle.”

That explains some pieces of the puzzle but I fear it raises more questions than those it has answered. I look up at the sergeant’s eager face, like a dog that’s just done a shit and wants some praise.

“Very good, sergeant.”

The officer leaves and the room goes dark once more. Just the computer screens glow to keep the shadows at bay.

“We know that the second and most recent handwriting belongs to Tanner Albright.”

Although talking to the darkness might seem a little crazy, it helps get the words out of my head.

“But to whom did the third set belong to?”

This was going to be a long [night](https://www.reddit.com/r/26FrightsOfFreddy/).