Hunter (Compilation of Weapons)

                         Weapons

"Works at the pizza place- the one where that guy was bitten. Night shift started a few hours ago, I think you could get 'im while he's inside"

"No punch-tab thingy to show he was inside?" I asked her.

"No, it'll be like he was never 'air add all." The fat, blonde bitch grinned, teeth as yellow as her matted hair and cracked, long nails. "Just show me you got 'im, skin or Polaroid- an' we'll be gold."

"Mmm. Money, I'll get that around two in the mornin'. Body takes like an hour to lose. I'd drop off here after I do the hard part of it, but I'm sure you don't want a dead guy stinking up this place, huh?"

"Got sumffin in the kitchen you could use." My cutting wit was evidently lost with this woman.

"Nah, I think I've got a few tools," I called out as I made my way out of this dim-lit drainage grate.

I was careful to side-step what was either a smoke-stained sleeping mattress, or a piss-stained mattress. Could be both. It was discolored a shade of dark yellow, not unlike the wallpaper and dim light-bulbs. Trash covered every table, and as I let myself out; my eyes wondered over the smoke-fogged room and saw the woman downing cheap wine and putting a cigarette to her lips. Place smelled like shit

I still didn't feel bad about taking the job. When I first killed a man, I was fifteen. He was a local creep, hanging out by my school. Grabbed my leg, so I grabbed his broken bottle in return and shoved it in his skull, boring a deep, empty abyss in his eye. Nobody's really asked me why I did that if they ever ask for my story, but it's simple. De-humanizing whatever's a threat to you makes it all the easier to fight it off.

Didn't really stop me from becoming the big bad bogeyman. I live in a shit, low-rent apartment facility. Bertha's one of the more lucid tenants here. Funny enough though, she has no idea of what I'm capable of. She went around knocking on her door after "Radical Phil" as I called him , stormed out in a fit of rage. Guess he took up a hostel somewhere. Makes sense too- guy's face looked like A Trip to the Moon.

Anyway, Bertha flopped onto each door, is the better phrase really. She was hysterical, needed rent or she'd be evicted. Wanted that life insurance money. Bertha beseeched us to "nab dat fucker". Nobody else opened their door because to them, this was just another verse in the saga of Bertha. But I did. For the next few days, she wouldn't be straight enough to tell the roof from the floor.

I don't do it for free; though I felt a bit generous on this one. Two hundred and forty bucks for nabbing Phil. Quick, easy money. What else am I gonna do on a Friday night?

As it turns out, a lot of things.

Drive over wasn't bad. Little traffic at these later hours though, surprisingly. During a nasty jam, my watch told me it was 5:15. That'd give my forty-five minutes to get over there.

I pulled over to four blocks from the pizza place, and walked over.

Ah, yes. Freddy's Pizza.

 I was a wee lad when the first one shut down, never really cared about Freddy's to be honest with you. If I wanted shitty, expensive food I'd eat at an Olive Garden or something. At least the waiters don't try to publicly embarrass you because "it's their programming." The Bite really entertained my older brothers- "Don't be out of bed, or ol' Fred'll getcha!" but it never really fazed me; just provided another reason for the parents to bully loyal customers out of the PTA.

I snaked around the building, looking for a way in. The place was surprisingly well secured. All of the windows were painted over, for starters.

I found a door on the back-wall of the building. Coupled with the concrete, flat surface of the wall and the steel doors, I assumed this would let me into the security office. I could easily grab him right then and there, if I was quiet. Avoiding the hassle of camera footage, too.

I wriggled my torque and pin in, and after about thirty seconds of work, I heard a soft clicking noise.

Carefully, I opened the door, and peered inside.

And then, my morning took a nasty dive.


The room was completely empty of life.

There wasn't a head poking out from above the chair. No arm hanging lazily above the ground, slung from a rest.

The chair wasn't entirely emptied, though. It spun slowly and silently, the office fan being the only source of sound in the room. It was accompanied by a handful of broken monitors, scraps of paper, and a metal cupcake wrapper. The fact that a metal muffin wasn't in it's wrapper was the least of my problems right now.

Industrial-grade metal doors stood on the east and west sides of the room. The West door was shut, while the east was wide open into the suffocating darkness of the early morning. Red, rectangular buttons evidently controlled them. The black, plush office chair looked comfortable, as if one could sleep in it, until I saw, nestled in the seat cushion, a tablet. In a morbid turn of events, the chair ceased it's rotation just as it faced me.

I walked over, and felt the floor tiles sink beneath my feet in the process of doing so. Felt mushy and damp, oddly enough. Posters and drawings of the restaurant's robots littered the walls.

My attention was on the tablet though. I felt around for a button on the device, and pushed it. The screen flickered to life, and displayed a hallway in a lens, tinted black and white. A little map, of boxes and squares, showed that it was on my right, with a little box captioned by "YOU" placing my at the far end of the pizza place, as expected. I was apparently viewing "CAM 4A". I also found out that my power was draining, at about 47%, emphasized by a bar demonstrating the generator's power usage.

I plunked myself down in Phil's chair, and felt a nice, sticky warmth in the seat, and felt sweat on the chair's armrests. I realized then, the likelihood of the guy still being here just increased ten-fold. Guess I was getting my money's worth after all. Maybe I could find him on the cameras. Taking his job, to take him out. I chuckled out loud at the irony.

In retrospect, out of respect for the poor son of a bitch's soul,  I really wish I hadn't looked at the cameras.

I flicked around from room to room. Nothing was. There weren't any robots on stage or wandering about, or doing anything.  He wasn't in the hallways, nor in the closets by the west hallway. Skimming each room and gleaning info, I paused when I hit a particular camera. "CAM 1C".

Pirate's Cove. This was Foxy the Pirate's domain. After the bite incident, I didn't think they'd even have a Cove, considering the way the Foxy brand was dragged through the mud by the local media. The curtain was wide open, to reveal an "Out of Order" sign. Pitch black stretched beyond the sign.

That'd be my first stop. I could also then check behind the stage curtains in the Party Room. Last resort would be in the kitchen, though in a place like this I doubt anyone would want a midnight snack. In addition, the visual feed's failure made me less than eager to investigate in that area first. The whole, muteness of the place left me uneasy. One last check, was in the Backstage area. Just supplies I guessed, but the robot heads, all except one, were angled towards my camera. Guess that ended my camera session a bit early.

Using my pocket flashlight, I checked both hallways for any sign of life, before I pushed the button to let me outside the office on the left. Zilch, unfortunately. In my right pocket was a hunting knife and some tranquilizer, and in my left armpit I carried the tablet.

The floors outside felt sticky, like a soda was spilled on it and allowed to harden.  I'd check the closet again later, if I was unsuccessful. The door was shut and locked, so it isn't like I could get in if I wanted to anyways.

I made my way up the corridor, noticing that the lights were flickering on and off, rapidly; creating a strobe effect. I've got a stomach of iron, so I could tolerate it. But if this shit was what Phil had to deal with, I suppose I couldn't blame him for pissing on the sixth floor carpeting. If I had to do the same song and dance every night, I'd go a little crazy too, you know.

I opened the bar-door to enter Pirate's Cove, and...

What?

It's just a hallway, leading straight up. I walked down the hallway, looking for any sign to point me to the Cove, but no.

Just "<---Party Room"

I scanned the walls with a flashlight, but nothing to enter the Cove. I released my left arm's pressure, and checked my tablet.

Well, it wasn't entirely broken. That's great. A GPS unit was evidently installed in the thing, the "YOU" caption now in "CAM 1C". But now, the visual feed to Foxy's home was cut out.

Maybe the map was just off the fritz tonight, but it got under my skin more than it should have. I would need to check in case the prick comes out of hiding from there.

I entered the Party Room instead, and a wave of stenches assaulted my nostrils. Rotten bread, vomit, the works. I power-walked at a brisk pace, and pulled myself onto the stage.

Now to see what's under the curtain, and lift this veil of mystery!

White spread across a patch in the room, revealing a grinning man.

Shit, no! It was one of the show characters. Wherever the big stars were, he was obviously missing out on the fun. A little fat kid in a hat...Or it at least used to be one. It's arms were missing, leaving sleeved stumps, and  it's lower jaw had rotted away, leaving a little maw of stringy plastic underneath the upper jaw. It was also an amputee from the knees down, just.. Plucked off like a fly. The eyes were missing as well, leaving a sick impression of a dead child, the abyss being devoid of soul. A rack hung near-by, and as I tried my best to avoid making contact with the Krippled Karcass Kid, I shone light on it.

A set of purple Freddy Fazbear Secure-It Squad uniforms were hanging from it. The purple jumpsuit and hat looked absolutely garish, and I scoffed at the name. "S.I.S."

I shone my light around further, revealing nothing. Just a bin of old Freddy Fazbear heads and some toys, sitting next to the boy.

Here, I checked my cameras. I could actually see me through the gap in the curtains I made. I flicked around again, checking to see if the Cove had cleared up. Indeed it did, and the cams actually turned a bit further than they normally did. They revealed a little door to the west of it. The path had to be through the back-stage area, then.

I flicked over to see if the Kitchen had gone through the same fate again, but no luck. Checking the hallway cams one last time before I headed out again.

Freddy stood from inside the office. He stared out from beneath the cameras at seemingly nothing, his iconic hat just touching the bottom of the screen.

Shit, they're supposed to have criminal databases installed in them. I remember reading that when the original place was open, and being more impressed by that, then the fact they can sing and dance. I've always been a technical guy.

Now, I've got a even more sordid past than you'd think. It's pretty complicated, but I wouldn't want my landlord to know about it , to be blunt with you.

I glanced over at the rack again.

"Looks like I'm working the graveyard shift", I sighed, as I begin to don the purple outfit.

I felt a hard piece of rubber by my thigh, and manipulated my fingers inside of it.

A holster.

Fuck.

I decided that the best course to take was to avoid the robots. Before they closed the first one down, I heard they acted funny around adults. Tolerated them, sure; but if I wanted to get to where I wanted to go, I wouldn't want to have one of those freaks blocking a doorway and giving me the goddamn evil eye. Especially if they still have databases inside them. The guard thing might over-power whatever happens when they see Lester Chester, the child molester walking around- but if I was held in place while Phil's off somewhere with a gun, my ass would be toast.

Then again, I did have the cameras to keep me updated. Flicked on, heard the familiar crunching noise of static, and the figure was gone. I flicked through the cam's, panicking that footsteps would be sounding off outside at any second. Again, the restaurant was completely empty. Nary a soul or a mouse to be found.

I did see, in the west hall, another peculiarity. A door was at a right angle to the entrance to the Party Room, and arrows pointed to the two doors in the corner of the room, with a 2D cartoon Freddy on top of the pole, with his arms pointed towards both. Did I miss it, somehow?  The door was slightly ajar, opening inwards from the left with a poster of cartoon depictions of  Foxy and a pink, visibly female counterpart arm in arm. The two seemed to be staring up at the cameras, beckoning me to

I didn't want to really think about the implications this "new" door, and my reaction to it had on my sanity or eyesight, so I just put the tablet under my arms again. I pushed the curtain out a bit, and sat myself down on the stage, legs hanging over the ledge, before I pushed my self up and lowered myself down. My boots echoed within the red-eye weariness of the morning, as they touched the cheap plastic tiling. Some hairline cracks were visible on the plastic, causing a slight sinking feeling to my feet. Like the floor was pulling me down somewhere.

Setting a brisk pace, I made my way across the room while looking down at my cameras. I saw myself moving down across the screen, until my scalp disappeared. Opening the doors, I expected to instantly curve around to my left to enter the Cove, but I was instead treated to a card-board cut-out of Bonnie, at a forty-five degree angle, leaning against where the door should be. Freddy was still pointing down towards the end of the hallway, though, and I looked down to see light emitting from the office. I craned my neck to see more, only to see a brown, fur-covered hand slap the door button. A loud metal slam reverberated through the pizzeria.

Well, maybe they're supposed to act as guards when there isn't anybody around...That's what I told myself as I ventured a little bit down the hallway, and heard shuffling and metallic sounds in the office. To my left and a bit further down, was the elusive door. Getting near, I realized something.

There was no door. There was a passageway, and a frame, but the door that I had seen less than a minute ago was gone.

I leaned against the wall in anticipation, and shined my light in from around the corner. After hearing no noise in the room, I turned in to enter.

As expected, there was a stage. The curtains were spread apart, and an "Out of Order" sign was placed in front of the empty void of the back-stage. The stage was big, roomy enough for five robots to stand on at once.

But there wasn't any room for people to sit.

I realized, then, that the apex, the end of the platform for the stage, was stuck in the wall. It's point was burrowed inside the wall, in a horribly drawn up floorplan. There was only a strip of flooring from one end of the room to the other, on the sides of the stage. Despite the other strip being accessible only via the steps leading to and from the up-stage area. The walls were completely barren of drawings and posters, unlike the other rooms in the restaurant I had seen.

I could have easily stepped onto the stage as it was only a foot high, when I began to hear muffled circus ambiance in the wall the stage had stabbed. I put my ear to the wall to hear better, when my nose bumped a raised metal surface.

I pulled away from the wall to get a better look, and saw that it was a pair of door-handles and a door-knob, poking out from the wall.

I stepped back, and shined my light over dozens of objects, flickering like fireflies in the reflection of my flashlight.

The ambiance stopped.

Most of the objects in the walls were bits and bobs- washers, bolts, and other metallic goods- but as I reached the corners of the wall, I was greeted by another hell of an eye-opener.

Fingers and feet were poking out of the walls. They weren't any fingernails or wrinkles to identify it, but the common clustering of five fingers and cartoonish anthropomorphism of three "toes"  revealed this, as well as some having a component where the knuckles would be.

I tried to rip one out of the wall, a blue-colored one-and it wouldn't go. It had what appeared to be joints- but it was stuck. Frozen in time and space. I could not even bend it, it was like a statue.

They all varied in color by groups. Blue on the left (east for ol' Phil), brown in the center, and yellow on the right. I realized that they all were aligned- the blue right thumb would be at the same height as the pinky of brown and noticed the feet being about three feet higher up the wall than they were.

The toes were much more withdrawn. I could only see the sole, emblazoned with a paw or orange and black lining.

I aimed my flashlight at the ceiling to see if I could find any other parts, and got an answer I didn't ask a question for.

The severed heads- or faces, really, of three mascots were attached at the upper corners of the wall. A blue rabbit, a brown bear, and a chicken, in the same order as their digits.

The technicolor hare was nigh unrecognizable due to it's ears. In between it's lips were two long, jointed rabbit ears hanging over the lower lip like mandibles. The jaw was removed and placed again a bit further down to make room for the meal, stretched in an eternal yelp.  Poking through it's eye sockets were two radio antennae, slowly and deliberately panning over the room, occasionally lifting it's feelers upwards. It dragged against a wall, and halted it's turning. Through the gaps in it's mouths and sockets, I could only see an empty void, one like the gorge of the ravaged child.

The chicken...Christ, the chicken. It was distorted as well. It's lower jaw was entirely removed, and wires hung from underneath it's upper beak. It's eyes were flickering around the room, while it's jaw, being a connected piece, stayed inert.

But the bear. The bear was bad news. Three arms surrounded the bear's head, mounted in the center like a twisted hunter's game, and was completely desolate.

One blue arm was giving a thumbs up, while the thumb was buried deep in it's eye socket, with only darkness to show the lack of vision. A brown arm was poking out of the wall, placed at the right side of the sockets where the ears would be on a man. And a yellow arm, in a "V" shape, had the small finger and the ring finger on the lower jaw, and the rest on the upper. Of course, this didn't obscure the mouth due to the hand's size, like that of a child. The jaw had no throat or tongue, it was much more like a mass It was immersed in that same darkness I had seen in the child, encompassing everything except for one thing inside the jaw cavity.

A small, blinking red light.

I suddenly felt very alone, and looking closer, I saw the mechanical "whirr" of the camera inside the mouth.

The shuffling noise started again, only it was coming from the area behind me. And it was accompanied by beeps and radio transmissions.

I turned on my heels, and half of a robotic fox’s head laid on the stage. The pupils were the color of a melancholic, soul-sucking silver, and the sclera the same tint. The jaw, reminiscent of an alligator, was a yellowed white. A pile of frayed wires dripped from the maw like a stream of frozen vomit, something I won't deny my witnessing of. They let off sparks with each dot. The eyes flashed silver and coal-black with each beep. A dot for silver, a dash for black.  The morse code held no value to me however, having no need to learn it in my time.

Like a light-house, the sparks of light contrasted with the grey and black darkness of the early morning. It was somehow moving  towards me, like a particularly ravenous caterpillar, without any limbs. It inched closer and closer towards me, the shuffling of wires dragging on the wooden stage.

As I stepped a few inches forward (since the jaw was at my feet, I could stomp on it should things get dicey), whilst bracing myself to skip off the stage to my left, I flicked on my flashlight, and skimmed the beast's domain. My flashlight revealed a bundle of multi-colored wires stretching from what would be the cranium of the severed jaw, like veins and muscles. They were together in a neat, orderly fashion like folded laundry-or Perseus's yarn, they penetrated the darkness of the unused stage. Ten feet back, the wires were still travelling towards infinity, in a rainbow of eternity. Red, blue, yellow, green,  orange and… Black. A black wire was in the middle of these, bigger than the rest. It pumped and throbbed, like a cartoon animal was travelling through a pipe.

Flicking my flashlight back towards the jaw, it halted like a child with it’s hand stuck in the cookie jar. And then, a robotic "whirrrrr" sounded off from the abyss. An unraveling sound, like that of a life-line being used by cave-divers, emitted from the darkness as well. Rope...or wires, being tugged. It got louder and louder.

The jaw suddenly jolted back, behind the stage curtains. For thirty seconds I stood paralyzed, and for thirty seconds the pulling sound continued . The jaw laid upside down, facing the side of the stage. Wires exposed.The beeping began to accelerate and got more frantic.  And the black pipe pumped and throbbed like erectile dysfunction. The pulling sound got louder and louder and LOUDER until I bounded off stage and thrust the door open, as I heard cloth pulled shut.

As I slammed the door shut behind me, I realized something.

I never heard the wires go taut.

Panting, I put my ear to the door to confirm the dissipation of the ominous, advancing phenomenon. Silence.

After a few seconds, I attempted to open the door, but failed. The knob didn't even turn. I probed the frame to check if it was jammed-only for my fingers to be greeted by the plaster wall. The other side of the doorknob was embedded firmly in the wall. I could see, somehow fitted between the crevice formed by the door and the wall, the same poster of the foxes that was on the door, spread over the wall. It was distinctly smaller, the size of a comic book. It was around when I felt my fingernails scrape the door's wooden surface, that I realized that there shouldn't have been a door in the first fucking place.

No amount of money was worth the tricks and hallucinations this place enforced upon my mind. I turned to walk down the hall towards the door, and wait outside for Phil to come out from wherever the hell he was; when I realized that good ol Freddy was currently taking over the graveyard shift for us. He shut the door on me a while earlier, meaning I'd have to trudge through the mind-searing emptiness of the party room to get to the other door.

Well, maybe Fred-head could let me in if I asked politely. The door may be closed, but the door for reason was open with him. I chuckled to myself about that as  I sauntered down the hall and knocked on the window, after straightening my purple cap. The cheaply installed window shook, as I looked down at my tablet just to affirm to myself that I wasn't in the closet or some other weird area. A flood of bright light seared my eyeballs, even as my neck was down.

Cupping one hand over my brow, I looked into the window.

Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, I thought.

Freddy stood in front of the window, but there was more than "something" amiss. His eyes were empty, and dripping a dark black substance I couldn't identify. Bits of red clustered around the head and shoulder areas, mixing in with the black as well. Combined with his eight-feet height, he was quite intimidating. I wondered what drugs the eggheads were taking when they redesigned this guy, and realized that things were a bit more serious now that I was impersonating an employee.

Jittering like a coffee addict, he reached out to my right and touched the door button, still staring down at me. His left arm dripped a web of black, like a cape, between his "armpits". I realized the tangled bits of red were flesh. The pressure on the door was released, and it swung up into it's slot.

I gave him a shaking thumbs up. His head, with a sound exactly like the camera's, turned to meet me as I left my window position and briskly walked into the office. His head slowed down it's turning just as I was almost behind him, his chin now at his left shoulder. I heard a loud crack, the sort of sound you would hear if you threw a melon at the ground. I stood paralyzed, almost at the exit door, and the head kept turning towards me.

"You.." I paused, not sure what he'd listen to. "You uh, can leave the office now. I'm here on shift."

An electronically altered voice emitted from..somewhere near the animatronic's mouth. It sounded more human and less cartoonish than the Freddy I remembered, though. Like a man's voice rather than a Saturday morning cartoon. It still had the filter, though.

"Sure, partner! Glad t'see you could make it tonight, Phil!" His body didn't move at all to signify the talking.

Freddy stooped a bit and lowered his head to get out of the office easier. His head was turning back to it's regular position now.

He stopped walking when it made "eye contact" with me.

"Please, don't do this to me" the head said. The filter was completely removed from the voice here, unmistakably that of an adult man.


"Please, do-" His voice was cut off as the robot body began walking away, muted by a blast of radio static.

I touched the door button immediately, and the door slammed shut once more.

	I reached out behind me to feel for a handle or exit doorknob, and felt nothing.

I spun around, and found myself face to face with a mural of Freddy and his gang of robots, stretching to the ends of the security guard's office. The wall was constructed of concrete, and nary a door's framing to be found. I checked to see how long it was until opening on my watch.

5:48.

Goddamnit, I hate this place.

Before I plopped myself down in the plush chair, it became apparent to me that my furry friend had left me a gift.

A plastic, toy microphone. The sort of prop you would give to a middle school theatrical production. Lifting it off the chair, it was surprisingly heavier than I thought it would be, weighing around five pounds. As I depressed the black, shiny handle of the mic, a black, tar substance oozed out from the orifice in the bottom of it, one which probably allowed children to hold the microphone with relative ease in the daytime. Investigating this new entrance with two right fingers, I experienced a slight burning sensation on my fingertips, akin to an acidic chemical. I began to feel my fingers being drawn into this substance. It pulsated and throbbed, and craved. I felt more and more of me being drawn into the mic. It hungered.

I let go of the mic, and a spittle, like a grappling hook, attached itself to my fingers while gravity pulled the mic down close  to the floor. Still hanging on, after a 5'8 plunge and four inches thick of...something, it spun from it's momentum, suspended in the air.

I put my left foot onto the "globe" of the mic, and a stream of liquid gushed out from the handle I was trying to free myself from. I got some of it onto my shoe, and the puddle attempted to reach more of me.

I put my goo-infected shoe onto the drool-like string, and tore my hand free from it. I still had some of the gunk on my fingers, but it withered at the site of amputation and began to turn a deep dark red, whilst hardening. The crust peeled off like glue.

I took off my shoes, and ran for the east door when I realized that I should be checking for my "friend". Whatever affliction Freddy had, he sure as hell won't be passing it on to me. Standing with my back to the security office entrance, I watched the hallway to assure myself I wouldn't be caught off-guard. A Bite of '91 would be hell on the mind.

 I pulled up the cameras, and located Freddy in the back-room with the heads. He wasn't hard to find, his back being presented to the camera. My dearest friend stood in front of a shelf with heads. He was still, and I could only hear Maybe he'd be running some self-maintenance program-who the hell knew how these bots worked at night; I had low hopes for that but if I played my cards right, I would be out of here without a hitch. The fat bitch could kill Phil herself.  I set a brisk pace in my socks down the hallway, and came into the Party Room.

There wasn't a door, or windows, or anything of any kind. Across from me was Freddy, standing  outside the doorway of what I hoped was the storage room. The stage was still here, thankfully. Except it was only a foot from the ground. But that was honestly the least of my worries right now.

And my missing animatronic friends, they were there. A purple rabbit, a yellow duck and the everlovin' Freddy all stood on the stage. Staring dumbly like cattle in a slaughterhouse.

Oh shit. Freddy's on the stage. This one was tinted a darker brown, rather than the yellowed color of the freaky one.

I turned to see the yellow tinted Freddy stomping towards me, accompanied by a cracking sound as more and more red leaked from his shins. As he was ten feet away from me, his legs gave out as hard, red bits spilled from his shin joints and clattered to the floor. He toppled over onto a table and broke it in two, beginning to pool blood in the gap created on the tablecloth.

On stage, a loud rapid beeping emitted from one of the robots, and the formerly inert Freddy turned his torse and head towards the collapsed figure.

In that iconic, goofy voice of his, he opened his jaws and blinked his eyes with a new liveliness. "Looks like one of our friends got a little bump! Would you kids like to sing to cheer him up?" Even seven years later, I could remember Fredbear's chuckles.

Freddy turned and looked down at his hand, empty of the microphone he was known for. This didn't seem to faze the Fazbear, however. A harsh, somber melody played from him, as he made a mockery of the dance art. Shaking his arms and turning around on his waist.

The broken Freddy emitted a loud, masculine sobbing noise, tuned with the electronic filter that had been absent from his earlier request.

The music stopped. I could hear some rustling in the halls behind me. A tinkling noise, like if you shook teaspoons against each other.

Freddy turned his head to his right.

"Come on, Bonnie! We need some back-up!"

The purple rabbit turned it's head in the awkward silence formed by this impromptu concert.

It looked at the golden Freddy below, eyelids squinting, and let out an unholy scream. Like a child.

Golden Freddy was swiftly assaulted by something. I felt wind rush past me as a shadowy figure sprinted from behind me, and more tinkling, much like the bars hung up in windy areas, to ring with the breezes' coming.

He was immersed in darkness, and the patch of the room he was located in, he was gone. The table was there, but  not collapsed and perfectly healthy.

I was assailed from behind with a strong, metallic clamp on my shoulder. Bits of muscle and vein splattered onto the ground as my attacker drew away. I turned my head to my right in surprise, and a robotic skull, with one golden eye, drew away with a good chunk of my nerves dripping from it's maw.

I fell away from the world as two arms took hold of me from under the arm pits, and Bonnie staring fervently at me, while lifting my feet in it's arms. It's eyes echoed of a madman's.

I woke up inside of the kitchen. I could tell because the oven lights were the first things I picked up on when I woke up.

Mechanical detritus and limbs littered the other tables, and some were on the floor. Often accompanied by a crusted, maroon substance. Very few were complete, except for the golden suit, slumped against a wall and it's back hunched over. Dead to the world. Three mutilated bodies stared at the walls. No, not bodies-robots. The monstrosities mounted on the wall. Judging from the colors, anyhow. They, like their disembodied counterparts, were embedded in the walls. I was just seeing the rest of them. The heads melded with it, and the arms were clustered in an odd fashion, like a demented triangle.

Mind you, this is only what I saw on the table. I couldn't move any part of my body, because I had two brown hands underneath my jaw, and a purple rabbit pinning me down for sit ups with it's hands.

I was really focused on the ceiling. A white mask was embedded in the ceiling above me, and splattered in a close radius around it was a similar black. It was the kind of mask no self-respecting actor would wear- it was disturbing, and not at all something that would show up well on stage. It was completely white and generic enough to be chopped up for a Phantom; it had impressions of cheeks but the paint must have faded away.

I felt pressure building up by my jaw. Guess old Fazbear really wanted a go at me. And then the mask dropped down. It hung from a black stream of the same substance inside the microphone, and I now realized that it wasn't a mask.

It was a face.

It looked down at me, and blinked. It turned up, to look Freddy in the eyes. They had a brief moment of mutual eye contact, and the mask then turned away towards the Golden Freddy suit.

A child's giggle emerged from the thing's lips, and it drew back into the ceiling.

Freddy and Bonnie let go of my parts, and stood staring at Golden Freddy.

He tried to push himself up with his hands, and couldn't.

Goldie instead raised his hands to his head, and used a notch in the hand's designs to hook it under his ears.

He turned his head to the left, and pulled. I heard a wet cracking sound as a spinal cord exposed itself from the sudden removal of the head. Blood and gore streamed down from inside the helmet, and splattered onto my operating table from the momentum. None of it thankfully got on me.

His arms above his head, I heard a wet, sucking noise as they caved outward, the elbows stabbing inward. Bone, stained red, fell out from the gaps in the suit.

The arms gave out, and the helmet swung to the ground. A loud bursting noise echoed through out the kitchen, as I heard something roll across the floor.

The blue figure in the wall tugged and tugged, until it fell out as the mask descended once more and it fell out onto the floor. It slid in the patches of blood from the momentum, until it bumped the wall. Bonnie laughed the same giggle the mask relished in. I turned my head towards my left which was wear the figure had slid.

It's face was completely sheared off. Only a strand of the "cranium" remained, pathetically hanging on to the lower part of the head, below the teeth. Like a watermelon that has some green, keeping it from being a perfect landscape of red in a bowl. A shadow of it's former self, only a ghost.

The wrist on the remaining right arm was only robotic, and was without the shell of a suit.

It stood itself up, and clutched in it's arm was the severed head of Phil. It was a diseased, greyish tone, and it's lower jaw and eyes were obliterated, but it was still recognizable as my neighbor. Two tubes were plugged inside of it's sockets, pumping a transcluscent red mixture toward it's brain, going all the way around to plug itself into the frontal lobe. Bits of metal poked out from the sides of his head, like the horns of Satan.

The blue robot placed the head on the table on my right. A stream of black, from the ceiling, flooded the golden suit, and withdrew Phil's elbow, with it's hand connected to it. Clutched in the dead man's fingers was a tazer.


It extended over to the head, and lingered half a foot away. A buzzing sound emitted from the mask. The tazer lit up, and the fluids pumped faster and faster in the head. Phil's voice came from the ceiling. "Don't make me do th-", he said in obvious distress. He screamed.

Golden Freddy stood up, headless. Inside it's stomach was a puppeteer, a gut bulging with black viscosity. It was visible, even through the fabric. It lurched over to the table, and picked the head up while turning away.

It  dropped the head onto the floor, backed up, and then dropped on top of it.

I shut my eyes as a climax of bone, brain, and an unverifiable red fluid splattered across the floor.

Freddy took the helmet, now emptied of it's passenger, and slid it over my head. Blood was still soaking into the helmet. Bonnie and the chicken were walking towards me now, carrying golden parts as they disassembled the body, one by one.

And then, 6 AM.

Church bells rang through the pizzeria, even into here.

The mask descended down onto me, it's mouth opening wide.

Blackness.

						EPILOGUE


I jolted into consciousness in the middle of the Party Room. Sunlight blared into my eyes, from what I found to be the front entrance.

As I tried to find myself in my new environment, I felt something on top of my head.

A party cone.

Tearing it off, I stood up. Nobody was around. Nobody was in the pizzeria.

Nobody was home.

I checked my watch.

6:00 AM.

I chuckled softly.

As I opened the sliding glass door and looked "outside" , the chuckle erupted into hysterical laughter.