The Cigar || Springtrap

O N E

Stepping into the old attraction building was like stepping into another world. The door collapsed off its long rotted hinges, hitting the tiled floor with a loud echoing slam. From the doorway, the inside of the building had incredibly dim lighting, due to the lack of sunlight getting into the building. The dim lighting with a large amount of gas gave the inside of the building sickening yellowish green tinge. The unclean air coming from inside the building was so unclean that if anyone was to breathe it, it can be incredibly damaging to almost all human functions especially the respiratory system. No words were spoken between the CSIs, only the heavy sounds of their breathing through their respirators.

After a few quiet moments, one of them sighed and switched on his rechargeable heavy duty torch, a bright beam being shone into the inside of the building.
“Alright, follow me and keep close,” he advised the others behind him. “We don’t need anyone getting lost in this place.”

The others around him began to switch theirs on too, before following his lead into the abandoned building.

“How the hell is this place still standing?” asks the youngest in the group, Nathan, who is only 25 years old.

“It shouldn’t be, but this is in the part of town where no one bothers to demolish any of these buildings,” answers Evie as she observes her surroundings.

The building was almost maze-like. Full with unending corridors that were so easy to get lost and around each corner was yet always another mysterious darkened corridor. The walls were once painted a dark grey with a fading black and white checkerboard wallpaper strip painted into the wall too. It was barely visible, covered with moss and with the walls already chipping themselves away.

Evie and the other four CSIs walked slowly, taking time to let their torchlight beams to drink in the derelict building and what was remaining of it. The floor was no more than the same rock and dirt they usually stood on, checkerboard tiles chipping away along with the building’s walls. The surface is pitted, each mark the start of a story that will never be told. Remnants of shattered glass, wood, pipes, dirt, nails and trash caked the cold damp floor. The CSIs definitely made sure to wear heavy protective footwear to walk through such seas of ruin.

“So the data files,” Francis started as he unavoidably stepped on multiple things. A cracked glass shard, broken wood planks, a broken metal part of machinery. “What did they want to find in them anyways?”

“The old security guard reports. Maybe this place could somehow shed some light on what happened to those children back in the 80s,” explains John as he leads the group of CSIs through the broken building. “This place opened 37 years ago, but never took off the ground. So, the staff and Fazbear company just seemed to abandon this place altogether.”

The corridors weren’t entirely empty. Some torn unidentifiable posters were still stuck to the rotting walls, a couple of empty metal shelves stood while some other shelves had been pushed over. The walls looked damp and the team noticed many areas of mold and fungi across the ceiling, walls and even floor. The place was utterly a mess, and a disgusting one at that.

John glanced up and shone his light upwards. “Guys, one of the pipes is leaking gas.” The others turned their torchlights to look as well.

“That’s got to be LPG, right?” Evie questioned.

“Most likely,” replied Axel, “be careful around here, ‘stuff’s extremely flammable. Don’t go lighting matches any shit like that.”