She arrived at the bank with a sweat breaking on her forehead as she pulled into a parking spot. Her anxiety was catching up with her as the adrenaline of the adventure began to wear off during the car ride. She paused a moment and sat in her car with her hands on the steering wheel, squeezing it tightly. Her car had been turned off, but her breathing was labored as she contemplated what would happen when she entered those doors. Her heart was racing. It had been a spell since she had last gone into a building with who knows how many people inside. Her return to the public would be in such a way she hadn't expected or dreamed. Following the instructions that her father left for her. But then she wondered. How could he have known about this all? How could he have known that he couldn't pursue this case himself? Could he have known about his death beforehand? No. That couldn't be possible. It was suicide. A point of irreversible depression that drove the gun to his temple. He couldn't have been planning his inevitable demise years beforehand with his family in mind. It wasn't him. She shook her head and stepped out of her car, grabbing her purse.
It was an older building, one of the originals built when the town had been established in the Roaring 20s. It was large, built of cement and granite. It had pillars that towered over her just like a Victorian mansion with a foreboding atmosphere. Her breath hitched as she stepped up the stairs one foot at a time. People passed her hurriedly, ignoring her nervous figure as she climbed and approached the entrance. With one inhale she opened the door and entered the bustling center of money keeping. She flinched at the noise that echoed off the marble walls and tables where people were negotiating with tellers and bankers. There was an air of importance and dignity around all who moved about the bank, holding their money and business close to their chests. They wore luxurious clothes and walked in heels and dress shoes. They weren't the richest of them all, but they were in high society, earning their fair share of riches. Anastasia cowered as she passed them, nervous to even be a few feet in proximity to them. Sure she had been in such a place herself not that long ago, but she had shut herself out so much that it felt like an alien planet.
Anastasia made her way past the check booths and customer service desks toward the teller booths, all lined with dark stained wood paneling and inch-thick glass from floor to ceiling. She timidly made her way through a line, keeping to herself as she distracted herself with her nails, picking at them in nervousness. Eventually, she had made it to the front of the line, her fingers fitting with the strap of her purse that was slung over her shoulder. She felt as if everyone had turned to her when the teller called her up, but no one had even turned their head. She shook off the invasive thoughts and inhaled deeply when she arrived at the booth at the far end of the wall.
"How may I help you, Miss?" The man asked her cordially, a small smile pricking at the edge of his mouth. She cleared her throat and trembled through her words as she spoke.
"Um, I'm here on behalf of my father, Frank Windsor. I am his daughter, Anastasia Windsor." The teller nodded, waiting for her to continue. Her eyes darted around the room, her heartbeat racing as her face grew red hot with anxiety. "I found a letter from him advising me to come and request the deposit box that he had here with you." She managed.
The teller nodded one last time, clicking and scrolling through his computer. "May I see your ID? Just to confirm." He spoke calmly, his eyes reassuring her that she was doing just fine. She breathed out, calming herself, and nodded to him, shuffling through her purse to grab her driver's license. She handed it to him and he glanced at it before handing it back. "Perfect. Miss Windsor, just step through this door and I'll take you back to your deposit box."
She nodded to him and walked toward the door that separated the common area of business from the rooms behind the bank. The teller opened it for her and led her through, guiding her passed the desks and cabinets of the row of tellers. They turned multiple corners, seeming to weave through a maze of halls before arriving at a locked gate. The teller took out a ring of keys, finding one simple key that fit the lock. He pulled open the gate which revealed a large room decorated with floor-to-ceiling walls of built-in lockers. Some were small and some were large, similar to lockers that would be found at a water park or amusement park. They were old-fashioned, built from wood but modernized with unique locks. The teller motioned for a security guard to come and assist Anastasia and bid her farewell with a sweet smile. The security guard stood tall and intimidating before her, inquiring a brow at her request.
"Box number?" He grumbled, annoyed; eyes tired yet highlighted with some life and will to get through his shift.
Anastasia rocked in her footing. "Um, I don't know the number. It belonged to my father. I didn't even know he had a deposit box until today." She mentioned, looking at him with worried eyes.
He sighed heavily and pulled out his notepad and pen. "What is your father's name?"
"Frank Windsor."
The security guard paused his pen before it hit the paper. He glanced up, his eyes confused and bewildered. "Frank Windsor? The same Frank Windsor from Calvary Lane?" Confused and becoming a little more intrigued, Anastasia nodded slowly with a quiver in her brow. The security guard's face suddenly exploded with a bright smile, much like a little boy who had just seen his favorite baseball player. "You're Frank Windsor's daughter! I am so sorry for my rude demeanor. Come with me." He spoke, leading her into the room with excitement. Her curiosity shattered her anxiety-ridden facade and brought her to life again.
"You knew my father?" She inquired, walking beside him to a box that he unlocked with his set of keys.
"Oh, yes! By golly, your father saved my life!" He exclaimed with pure joy. "I knew Frank from years ago when I was just graduating high school. I was a train wreck of a young man and my mother didn't know what else to do with me. She met your father at church one Sunday and befriended him. She would talk about me and how I was a druggy, fooling around, and was stuck at rock bottom. And, boy, I was! Frank told my mother about how he went through the same thing when he was my age, and his pastor, from way back when helped lift him up. Well, one day, my mother invited your father and mother over for dinner and we had the most eye-opening conversation in my life. I quit my drugs and my fooling around right there and made something out of my life."
In awe, Anastasia listened and watched as he grabbed a small key from the box and moved down the room, searching for another box within the wall. "He did all that? My father?" She breathed in admiration.
"Yes! Now I work as an elementary teacher at the school down the road and work here part-time. I needed to save up more money for the baby. My wife's due next month." He smiled brightly after finding the right box and turning to Anastasia. She was beaming with excitement at the mention of a baby.
"Oh, that's amazing! Is this your first?" She asked.
He beamed, nodding. "Yes. I'm so excited. I get to be a father!"
She laughed at his overjoyed excitement. He sighed after his boiling excitement simmered and opened his palm to her, urging her to take the key. "Your father left this key to me. He told me to keep it safe until you came around requesting his deposit box. I kept it in my own box to keep it out of anyone's hands." He explained, then he turned to a box at eye level. "You may do the honors. 708."
Looking upon the box as curiosity and excitement bubbled in her system once again, she gently took the key between her fingers and pushed the key into the lock. It fit perfectly. With the twist of her wrist, it unlocked and she pulled out the drawer. Inside were a good many things, unorganized and jumbled as if thrown into the box in a rush. There were pieces of expensive jewelry-probably a family heirloom-, a file folder with a sticky note, and a few rolls of cash-twenty dollar bills. Shocked, she took her time to go through each individual piece. She examined the jewelry which were a few necklaces and rings made out of pure gold and diamond that seemed centuries old. She looked at the cash but refrained from touching so much money right there in her presence. Her eyes drifted to the plain file, underneath all the glitz and glamour of the valuable items. She pulled it out, examining it curiously. It was thin and light, its contents only being a few sheets of paper. She looked at the sticky note, realizing it was her father's handwriting.
It read, "It's only the beginning." Anastasia quirked her brow at his vague clue and opened the file to reveal a newspaper clipping and a ripped journal page. A ripped journal page? She had her father's old journals from years ago stored in her apartment. She hadn't checked them before in fear of dark memories resurfacing. Could pages be missing in those journals? She closed the file and tucked it under her arm to look over in more detail in her apartment.
"Will I need to take the rest of this with me to close the matter?" She asked the security guard.
He looked at the deposit box, still open, then turned to her. He shook his head. "Not unless you intend to close the account altogether yourself. It's yours."
Anastasia tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"After your father died, a note was left for me from your father. It was a piece of his last wishes. He said that once you came to retrieve what he had stashed in that box, it would turn ownership to you. It's officially under your name. It is yours to do with what you please." He elaborated, ending with a smile. Anastasia gawked in disbelief. She turned to the box and smiled with an exasperated huff.
"Well, then, with that in mind, I wish to keep the ownership of this box. Might as well use it to store away some of my valuables rather than vague messages from my father. But all of this is with him in mind, no doubt. I'll keep the jewelry and the cash in here for now. Thank you for showing me all of this. It's all very important to me." She told the security guard with a bright smile before closing the drawer and locking it. "You don't mind keeping hold of the key, do you?" She turned to him, opening her palm to the man. He nodded and took it, placing it back in his box. He showed her out of the room and locked the gate behind them before walking her to the lobby door.
"Here you go, Miss Windsor." The security guard extended his arm out toward the door.
"Thank you. For everything. Really." She said, her face bright; a contrast to her appearance entering the bank.
"Of course. Come back anytime." He grinned, then opened the door for her. She exited the bank with a sigh of relief and a new sense of clarity and determination. What else did her father have to say? What did it all mean?
~
Anastasia walked into her apartment with an air of confidence yet exhaustion. She hadn't realized how reentering the public would be so tiresome, draining most of the energy she had left after her restless nights. She hung her coat on the coat rack and set her purse down on the kitchen table. With the file still under her arm, she plopped herself down on her couch, breathing out as she flopped the file onto the coffee table. She switched on the TV to the music channel, putting on Christmas music to calm her nerves and help her focus on the task at hand. Her father's instructions. The path he wanted her to follow. She gazed at the note curiously, confused at its meaning.
"It's only the beginning." She murmured to herself before opening the file. She took out the newspaper clippings one by one and separated them from the journal page, laying them out before her in an organized fashion. She first turned her attention to the clippings, going through them in chronological order. The first was dated June of 1983, written vaguely by a journalist who seemed irrelevant. Anastasia narrowed her eyes at the title. "Kids Vanish at Local Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria- Bodies Not Found." Her eyes widened. This was it. It was several years prior to the disappearance of her sister, but this definitely was the start. The start of it all. She hadn't heard much about the original disappearances. She was too young to have known. Sure other kids at school would mention it and tease her about it knowing that her father worked with the company, but she wasn't exposed to any of this. Not even during the investigation of her sister. Her parents kept her out of the matter so as to not upset her. Later did they know that it did the exact opposite.
Anastasia continued, reading the rest of the article.
"Two local children were reportedly lured into a back room during the late hours of operation at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza on the night of June 26th. While video surveillance identified the man responsible and led to his capture the following morning, the children themselves were never found and are presumed dead. Police think that the suspect dressed as a company mascot to earn the children's trust."
Anastasia covered her mouth. How cruel. How could a man do something so evil and live with himself? She didn't understand it. But it stirred larger emotions from deep within her chest. Emotions that connected this case to her own. This man kidnapped these children and perhaps kidnapped her little sister. It angered her. She moved on, grabbing the next clipping.
"Five now reported missing. Suspect convicted.
Five children now linked to the incident at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where a man dressed as a cartoon mascot lured them into a back room. While the suspect has been charged, the bodies themselves were never found. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has been fighting an uphill battle ever since to convince families to return to the pizzeria. 'What a tragedy.'"
Her mind started to tick with her intuitive processing. So this is where it all began. Her father had been tracking this whole issue from the very beginning. Five children in total. All disappeared. All bodies were not found. Just like her sister. She breathed out and continued to the next one.
"Local Pizzeria Threatened with Shutdown Over Sanitation.
Local pizzeria, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza had been threatened again with shutdown by the health department over reports of foul order coming from the much-loved animal mascots. Police were contacted when parents reportedly noticed what appeared to be blood and mucus around the eyes and mouths of the mascots. One parent likened them to 'reanimated carcasses'."
Anastasia grimaced in disgust. Could it be true that there were actual carcasses stuffed inside the animatronics at that establishment? It was just so terrible and cruel for someone to do that to a person, let alone a child. She couldn't imagine it and refrained from doing so. Who could be the murderer to commit such a heinous crime? She wished she could've been more intuitive to the matter but she couldn't get the image of rotting corpses within the frames of those robots out of her head. She shook her head, attempting to free it from the picture forming in her head, and grabbed the last clipping and read it carefully.
"Local Pizzeria Said to Close by the Year's End.
After a long struggle to stay in business after the tragedy that struck there many years ago, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has announced that it will close by the year's end. Despite a year-long search for a buyer, companies seem unwilling to be associated with the company. 'These characters will live on. In the hearts of kids, these characters will live on.' - CEO"
With her thoughts fresh, she placed down the clippings and took a minute to process them in whole. All of these clippings were collected over the years, ending in the mid-90s when the establishment closed. Her father had been tracking the disappearances, even before her sister had disappeared. But why? Not that it wasn't important, but why was it important to a businessman before his youngest daughter had disappeared? Anastasia was puzzled. She looked to the journal page to answer her questions but instead was met with a cryptic and confusing note.
"June 13, 1984,
I've been observing my colleague, William Afton, recently. It may be nothing but he seems to be more reserved than he was a year ago. He and I used to be rather close, more friends than business partners. Now it seems that he has built up walls around himself, firmer than even I can penetrate. He's become paranoid, jumping at even the slightest noise. His demeanor has grown cold and his eyes don't reflect the same spark of optimism they used to. Coming from a friend, I have become concerned. I've asked him about it, but he snapped at me, claiming that he was fine and that he didn't need a therapy session from me. I don't know what he's going through, but something is definitely off in his personal life. I'm keeping an eye on him."
Anastasia stared at the page for a moment, growing ever more confused. How could his business partner's mood swings have anything to do with these disappearances? Who was William Afton anyway? The name sounded familiar to her, which made sense that he was her father's business partner, but it was something more that stood out. She took the page to her computer and logged into an internet browser. She typed in the name and several digital articles popped up. The first article gave it away and cleared all the blurriness away.
"William Afton, Fazbear Entertainment CEO, Closes Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria For The Last Time."
"So that's the connection, Dad," Anastasia mumbled under her breath as she put her fingers to her lips. William Afton was the CEO of Fazbear Entertainment, the one who owned the Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria which was a part of her childhood joys and trauma. He was her father's business partner, who was a close friend of her family. There was a chain of events before her sister had been taken. Disappearances of other children, five in total. Bodies were not found. No traces of the children. A man was convicted but claimed he had no part in the disappearances. A lot of arrows crossing but going in opposite directions. It seemed to her that this was more than just a tragic case of kidnapped children. It seemed that whoever did this was not the man arrested. He was taken into custody before her sister disappeared. The manner of these disappearances directly reflects what happened to her sister, there was no doubt in her mind. Whoever did this is still out there, unbeknownst to the police.
Anastasia sighed, unsatisfied. She was stuck in a conundrum, not knowing where to go from here. Her father had only left her these small pieces of information that led nowhere. All she had were a couple of dated newspaper clippings about a decades-old mystery and more unsettling facts about her own issue. Yet her father entrusted her to follow what he left and solve this case. There had to be a question he had or another piece of the puzzle. There had to be a wire to follow.
She glanced at the journal page but narrowed her eyes at the torn edge. The paper type seemed the same as one of his journals she had. Perhaps there was a clue in there if it truly was from one of the journals. She rose from her desk and made her way to the closet in her bedroom. Behind dresses that were hung up was a medium-sized safe where she housed all of her important items. Even the items she had of her father's. She opened it and took out the four journals he had filled while he had been alive. She went through each one, flipping through the pages until she found evidence of a ripped page. The problem was that each of them had pages that were missing. There were more entries out there. But where? She didn't know. All she knew was that all the entries that pointed to this case were gone. None of the other entries mentioned Freddy Fazbear's or the disappearances. She was left distraught, plopping back on her bed with a disturbed huff.
With the journal page still in hand, she stared at the blank ceiling without much hope of finding a path to follow. Her heart sank as she couldn't think of any other avenue to discover another trail. She didn't want to fail her father and her sister like this. Her father gave her this task, knowing that she could solve it when he couldn't. So why couldn't she find another route? It didn't make any sense.
She flopped her arm over her face in despair, feeling tears well in her eyes as a lump formed in her throat. She lifted the paper above her to read her father's words once again but noticed something in the corner of the page. She squinted to see it clearer, but it was backward. She flipped the page over and saw her father's handwriting in another small riddle. She sat up with a jerk and read it.
"Evidence can only be found in the place they happened. The pieces can then be put together."
An idea immediately popped into her head. "Thanks, Dad!" She exclaimed and ran to her computer. The building has to still exist, right? The place closed in '93. It would be misshapen and corroding, but it should still be there; unless some company came to bulldoze the lot. She researched the location of the old Pizzeria and discovered that it indeed still resided in the same place it was. It was still owned by someone within the company who kept it the way it was, although it was vacant from ever entertaining families again. Not after the name and conspiracies that traveled around town after the disappearances. However, she scrolled into a job opening at that location. Anastasia quivered a brow as she looked into the job inquiry. It was a security guard opportunity to watch over the place at night, per the company's request. In order to get the job, she'd have to be interviewed by a local career counselor to make sure she was security-approved. In haste, she found the phone number to the offices and grabbed the receiver of her phone from her desk. She punched in the number without any hesitation and waited as the phone rang.
"Hello. This is the Career Counseling offices. How may I help you?" Asked an older, monotone feminine voice.
"Hi! I'm-" Her words fell short. Her mind had caught up with her actions. What exactly was she getting herself into? She was setting herself up to go into the very place she most dreaded. She had never dreamed that she would go to that place, where her nightmares resided. And here she was, calling for a job opportunity for the night shift. But, her reasoning gave light to the situation. This wasn't for her. It was for her father and her sister. Her father had led her to this point. She had to get into that Pizzeria to discover what else her father was asking her to find. It was the only way to get to the bottom of this.
"Ma'am? Ma'am?" The woman over the phone called out.
Anastasia cleared her throat. "Oh! Yes!" She readjusted her mind to the purpose and situation at hand. "I'm Anastasia Windsor. I was just calling for the security guard gig for that abandoned Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. I was wondering if I could set up an interview for that job?" She inquired with a firm voice, one she hadn't known she had.
"Alright. Just give me your personal information and then we can set up an interview for tomorrow. How does that sound?"
"Perfect!"