Undying Flames: A FNaF FanStory

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The heat was unbearable, as the flames licked along the blackening walls of the restaurant, creeping through the air ducts, and lashing out at anything they found. People ran from the building, parents and children, teens and elders, as the roof began to cave in. Smoke billowed high into the evening sky, the red streaks that many found beautiful now being seen as a warning of danger.

Deep in the heart of the labyrinth, an old man spoke his last, his powerful, bone-chilling words carrying over the sound of robotic screams, screams not of pain, but of fear, fear of what lay beyond death's scythe. These robots had seen him, they had looked into his timeless eyes, but they were brought back in metal bodies before they could take his skeletal hand.

But there was one who did not share their fear, one who welcomed death with open arms and a loving embrace. He too had seen death, he too had looked into his cold eyes, perhaps more times than any of the others. But he was not afraid. For forty years, had he waited. For forty years, he longed for death to take him, and let him be with the brother he had killed half a lifetime ago. And yet, even when he could feel the skeletal breaths on the back of his neck, even when he was hollowed by a machine, the swing of the scythe never came for him.

Twenty years, he had no choice but to live in his rotting body. Twenty years had he been devoid of pulse. For twenty years he had a metal skeleton, after his own was torn out. Twenty years he had lived in the shadows, lived in a mask.

He had been around for over half a century, though it felt like it had been twice that. For every second, his guilt made him age two. Forty years ago, he caused his brother to be bitten by that accursed animatronic. Forty years he had tried to join him, only to be thwarted by those closest to him.

But now, he would be free. Now he could rest. He had undone all his father's hard work, freed every soul his father had trapped. And now, even as his old man screamed for help from the next room, he pretended not to hear him, so that this happy ending would remain untarnished.

He held an old, steel-blue box in his lap, a box he made sure would protect anything inside from even the hottest of flames. His decaying fingers brushed over its surface, a strange mixture of emotions connected to it. Once just a simple toybox, it now held memories he had chosen to forget. Alongside those old photos, he knew a book would be. Small and simply bound with black leather, it held everything he had learned in his un-life, every sin of the company who's building he was burning in. Every death, every missing child, every ill deed. 

They would all get their closure. Maybe it won't be the closure they want, but they deserved to know what really went on backstage at this corrupt company. The parents deserved to know their children's bodies were hidden just beyond the curtains, forced to sing and dance for their peers in metal fur-suits. Their siblings deserved to know they had been heard, only for their voices to be swept under the rug.

He could feel the fire tasting his legs now, the dead flesh curling and peeling off as it turned black and charred. Yet, it did not hurt. He could feel himself turning to ash, but he thought it felt quite nice. Or perhaps he had been put through so much that his mind had twisted, turning pain to pleasure. He was in no condition to know.

He heard a thud, and his metal eyes slid slowly to the side. There lay the remains of a clown, now reaching toward him with her metal hand. He extended his own to meet hers, curling rotten fingers around searing bars.

"Come, sister. Let us brave Death's scythe together," he choked out, voice box failing. The clown's green eyes flickered and went dark, as her shattered arm went limp. He removed his mask as the room collapsed around him, and stared up at the stars through the smoky haze. His eyes slid shut, and he would have smiled for the first time in a long time if he still had lips.

As the feeling of the fire faded, his last thoughts were of the family he once had. He knew another of the monsters in this fire had killed his wife when they invaded his body, but he hoped his children were doing well on their own. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he was a grandfather yet, before the light began to beckon him.

He looked around silently as others appeared around him in the void. The old man who set the place ablaze and his daughter. His sister, who had gone missing a lifetime ago. A multitude of children, some of which he recognized. And then there was him. He thrashed about, screaming for help, as the abyss dragged him down. None moved to help him, even when his rabbit ears were the only thing left. In unison, they turned toward the light, and began to move toward it.

But he could not move. He was stuck. The others continued forward, until he could no longer see them. Then the light began to fade. He was confused, scared, wondering what happened. Then, he felt himself being pulled back, back to Earth.

The rescue crew found a multitude of robots, and a mangled body. It was rushed to the hospital, and diagnosed with a coma. The robots were sold as scrap at an auction, and the box was opened and inspected, before the information within was released to the public.

A man whose father had gone missing, before coming back to kill his mother, bought several items from that auction. He had been studying robotics, and as a new father himself, decided this would be the easiest way to look at some examples. One of the items he bought was a pink-eyed endoskeleton.

And, after a week in his workshop, it twitched, and began to move once more.