Gregory grasped Michael's hand, walking forward briskly, as per Circus Baby's instructions. It felt like they barely got to move, before her second command came. "Stop." Gregory halted, swallowing hard. Darkness closed in on them from all directions; no matter how many times he entered this area, he never felt any better about it. He could see nothing, not even the floor or Mike whose hand he kept in a death grip. Gregory despised the thought of what lurked around the darkness, the hidden animatronic he'd spotted behind the conveyor. It was here...somewhere. With nothing but another animatronic's instruction, they had to press on through pure black, practically doomed to be caught by whatever this animatronic was. It was actually Ballora, right? Gregory gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously. How many times had something like this happened now? He could hardly bear it.
He gulped as Circus Baby's voice returned. "Go forward and left." He tensed, not entirely sure what that meant. He didn't have time to think; Michael headed forward, veering to the left. Gregory went with him and edged as close to the man as he could, anything to keep far away from their unseen hunter. The sound of their footfalls echoed loudly in his ears. Past this faint echo and the hum of distant air vents, he could just barely detect something else. He couldn't quite tell what it was, but the faint clicking and wriggling made his skin crawl. "Keep going," said Circus Baby. This felt wrong; it all did. Somehow, even with a voice speaking to him, even when he literally held Michael's hand, Gregory felt alone—stranded in this darkness. At the same time, though, he was far too aware of an unseen presence.
"Stop," Baby said, startling him into an immediate halt. "Be silent." Gregory grinded his teeth so hard they hurt. Now even his breaths sounded too loud, merging with Mike's own labored breathing, and filling the unsettling silence around them. For these stretching, horrifying seconds, Gregory was left with his thoughts. Why did Circus Baby tell them to stop again? Did this mean Ballora crept in front of them? Had they almost run into her? Why did they even have to stop so much? He tried to steady his breaths, his other hand clenching into a tight fist. His eyes flicked around, but he still saw nothing. Only black. Where the heck is that thing? he thought. Please tell me we'll get there soon. Please tell me we won't run into it!
Finally, the next instruction came. "Go forward and left." Michael and Gregory continued on their way. He moved on instinct now, step after step, taking deep breaths and glancing around fervently. Funtime Auditorium seemed to stretch on, each moment in the deadly quiet black making both their paces quicken more. "Stop," Circus Baby said, and they did. Another silence fell over the darkness, although now Gregory could distinctly hear something else, something...quiet...moving. A chill ran through his body, and he just barely registered Circus Baby's next words to them. "Go forward. You are almost there." They continued, Gregory slowly exhaling through his nose. Almost there, he repeated to himself. We're almost there.
As usual, they fought on for only a few meager seconds, before Circus Baby said, "Stop." Gregory froze. Something about her voice had changed; it sounded quieter, more urgent. "She is right in front of you. Don't move." He seized even more. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he was unable to tear his eyes away from the darkness before him. He saw nothing, only black. But there it was—that presence. He felt it, the shape of a figure in front of them. It tingled at the base of his neck and sent a shiver up and down his spine. It took everything in his willpower not to simply dash away as Circus Baby calmly spoke to the unseen predator, "He is here to help, Ballora. He is not here to hurt us." A small pause. Gregory trembled with the urge to move, but his locked muscles kept him in place and his breath back in his throat. "Ballora, he is here to help us. They both are." He let his breath back out when Baby's next sentence was directed at them. "Go forward again. Ballora is behind you." With a shudder, he continued to walk with Michael. "She is afraid of the scooping room; she will not follow you."
Well, that was a relief at least. But even so, Gregory did not fully relax nor stop examining the shadows, until Michael stopped for the final time. This time, it was of his own accord. Giving Gregory's hand a gentle squeeze, he whispered, "There's a vent to get in. I'm going to let go of your hand, okay? Enter first." The pressure around Gregory's hand vanished, for Michael withdrew his. With nearly all sense of safety lost, the young boy practically threw himself onto his knees. Reaching forward, his fingers brushed against something cold and hard. It pulled away shortly, and he felt open space. As he gradually let his breath out, he crawled through and entered a new area where finally his sight returned.
Straightening, Gregory shivered violently at the sight he beheld. The area was still cloaked in shadow, but he could clearly see his surroundings. Now he almost wished he couldn't. The outer shells of the animatronics littered the floor in front of him—Funtime Freddy, Ballora, and Funtime Foxy. Their empty sockets weren't focused on Gregory, but he could hardly bear to look at them, as if their empty shells could still spot him and hunt him down. The wreckage of the animatronics was nothing compared to the chill he got when glancing over the scooper. The contraption simply looked wrong to him, and the thought of what might have happened to him tormented his mind each time he threw the scooper a glance. What would that thing have done to his tiny body, had he not escaped Funtime Freddy when it was activated? He rubbed at his arms, the clang of the vent echoing behind him as Michael entered. The moment he did, an unfamiliar voice boomed through the area and startled Gregory backwards.
He collided with Michael as the announcement rang through his ears. "Warning! You've entered a highly dangerous area. You have entered from maintenance hatch 1B, reserved for cleaning and repair of the scooper. Entering this side of the room is strictly prohibited by unauthorized persone—" The voice broke off into static, leaving the duo in silence while they examined the room around them.
"Well," Michael said, having steadied Gregory and kept him from falling, "here we are."
"What...what was that voice?" he asked.
"Hm?" Michael blinked down at him. Somehow, seeing his face gave Gregory relief. Those moments in the darkness felt so much longer than he bet they truly were. "Oh," Mike said, "that was just Hand Unit. He's been giving me instructions for my work, instructions that haven't been...all that helpful."
"Oh," said Gregory.
"Looks like you were right," Michael said, nudging aside a piece of an animatronic. "They really were all scooped. That's quite...strange."
"Yeah." Gregory grimaced at the Funtime Freddy shell. "Maybe it really is a good thing though. I never want to see that idiot Freddy again!" He tromped over and gave Freddy's head a swift kick. The action made his foot and wounded leg ache, but he didn't care. He quite liked seeing Funtime Freddy's pieces scattered like this, and it satisfied him knowing that animatronic would never get the satisfaction of killing him. "Guess I really did win your little game." He gave a triumphant nod, then turned towards Mike who currently paced the length of the room, glancing around. "So now what?" Gregory asked. "I don't see Circus Baby anywhere. What're we even doing here?"
"I was thinking the same thing." Michael stopped at his side. "Circus Baby? Are you there?" No response. "I know you can talk to us," he said. "Why are we here? Where are you? I can't help you if you don't come." She did not reply. Frowning, he paced back to the other side of the room and looked around wildly. "Hello? I want to help you! Can't you answer me?" Mike stopped about halfway through the room, blinking down at the yellow keypad he'd used earlier, which he now gripped tightly. No reply came from it.
"Apparently she can't." Gregory crossed his arms. "Look, can we just get outta here?"
Michael sighed deeply, lowering the keypad and continuing to pace the room. "Ballora's out there. We can't just leave; we need to be smart."
"Oh," Gregory said. "Well, maybe we should hurry and come up with a plan. It's suspicious that Circus Baby isn't talking anymore."
"Maybe," Michael said. "I'm beginning to regret this. I can't imagine why she would trick me, but..." His words faded to Gregory's ears, as he caught another sound. Faint clanging and...squeaking? He looked around, but when he saw nothing, he returned his attention to Michael who still paced the room and muttered to himself. "I'll find a way out of here, I promise," he said, briefly catching Gregory's eye as he passed him. "I just can't figure out what's going on." He started away, shaking his head.
Gregory watched him, uncrossing his arms. A frown crossed his lips. "Me neither. I think she really might be up to something, and..." Another clang sounded, this one louder, and much nearer. He blinked. "And..." He trailed off completely, for it struck him what that second sound was. The vent. The vent behind him had opened.
Heart leaping, he tensed to turn, but never got the chance. A sudden hand seized his shoulder and yanked him back. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out as an arm locked around his neck. His body went cold. This was not a normal arm. Hard and made of metal, it consisted of what looked like wires or tubes twined together. When a hand seized his waist and another hard material wrapped around his ankle, he froze up. A mechanical eye in the midst of the wiry arm flicked up and stared at him.
Breaths picking up, Gregory called out, "Mike—" The arm tightened. Painful pressure spread through his throat, and his panicked cry cut off into gagging.
Michael immediately stopped his pacing and whipped back around. "Gregory!" He rushed towards the two, only to halt when the unknown attacker spoke.
"Get any closer," said the voice of Circus Baby, "and we will kill him." The arm loosened only a little, relieving Gregory's choking. The constriction remained, tight and foreign around his neck. He shuddered and squirmed, already bursting with the urge to get away. He wanted to kick, fight back. Nearly every movement was resisted by the strength of machinery.
Michael fell back a step, his horrified gaze flicking up and down whatever animatronic held Gregory hostage. Swallowing hard, Mike spoke with a tight voice that trembled with restrained anger, "Let him go. Now." A glitched giggle came from the animatronic, and it once again tightened its arm. Gregory froze as the pressure increased. A miniature, strangled cry escaped him and his eyes watered. This felt wrong; it felt so wrong. He opened his mouth to call out, but all that came out was more gagging. Michael jerked forward only a little, still staying in place. "I said let him go!"
"Why should we?" The arm did not loosen. "After all—" the soft feminine voice spazzed out, loud and boisterous for the smallest of moments— "the penalty of cheating is death." The shriek of static sounded, making Michael flinch. "But we will spare him," the chilling voice of Circus Baby went on. "For now." Once again, the tight hold on Gregory's neck released more. He was left squirming and coughing.
"M-Mike," he forced out. "He-help m—"
"He will not help you." The voice grew deeper, distorted. "He cannot help you. If he makes one move, we're snapping your fragile little neck." He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing down his sore, constrained throat.
Michael lowered his head, before lifting it again and locking eyes with Gregory. "It's alright, it...it'll be alright." Gregory just blinked, unable to force any words out. All that came were his heavy breaths which pushed their way in and out of his tight, trembling chest. Michael reached out a hand. "It...it'll be alright, Gregory. Just hold on."
"I think we're the one holding on." The arm violently tightened; Gregory jolted and let out a loud, choked cry. Unwanted tears filled his eyes and spilled over.
"Stop it!" Michael's voice echoed through the room, startling Gregory and even the animatronic. It immediately relieved a portion of the tension. He just barely recovered his breath as it found its way through his sore throat. The rest of his body trembled, and he silently tried to regain a fraction of his usual bravery. It didn't work. Michael scowled darkly from where he stood in front of the scooper, his hands fisting at his sides. When he spoke, much of the volume had left, but a thick layer of anger remained. "Now you're going to tell me what you are, what you want, and what will get you to release Gregory."
A pause followed. Adjusting its hold on Gregory, the animatronic said, "I just wanted you to help me."
"Yes, I can see you're obviously Circus Baby then," Michael said. "I was going to help you, you idiot. I was on your side. Why are you doing this?"
"You think we're only Circus Baby?" said the animatronic.
Michael untensed slightly. "What?" Gregory squirmed, running its words through his head. What had this animatronic kept saying? We. What was it? Tubes, wires, and eyeballs, all different. His gaze shifted to the eye that had previously stared at him. It still remained locked on his face, blue and just as eerie as the last time.
"A-all of them," Gregory forced out, his voice rough. "You're all of them."
"Yes," it said. "We are. We are...a family; we are one." Circus Baby's voice glitched, merging with at least four others, if not more, all coming together to say one word, "Ennard."
He gulped, struggling for breath. Through the tight pain in his neck and the overwhelming terror in his gut, he spat out, "That's a stupid name, y-you spaghetti wannabe."
Ennard responded by, not to his complete surprise, tightening its hold. Not only the one around his neck, though—his waist as well, and his ankle, which he now realized one of the tubes twined around. He whimpered and clamped his burning eyes shut. Circus Baby's voice wormed its way through his head as he twitched and squirmed against the pain. "You were irritating. You kept escaping us; you kept getting away. And you spoiled our plan, I thought for sure you would mess it up completely, but now I think you might've been what we were missing. We can't fail now." It squeezed tighter, earning another sound of pain from Gregory. "Thank you."
"Stop!" Michael cried. "Quit doing that to him, you monster! He's just a kid!" Gregory choked and coughed as the tubes released him, once again only by a smidge. By now, he was sure bruises were forming on his neck with how terribly it throbbed.
"That's supposed to stop us?" Ennard said, its tone surprisingly calm.
Michael stood his ground, staring it down with a threatening glare. "I trusted you."
"You did." Gregory felt Ennard nod. "I'm so good at pretending, aren't I? But then again, so are you. We almost didn't recognize you, with your false names. But we know that face anywhere."
Michael paused, his glare only faltering for a moment. "What are you talking about?"
"You have a chance to save your little friend," it went on, as if he'd never asked the question. "But only if you do as we say."
"I have been doing what you say, why did you feel the need to do this?" Michael said, gripping his hair, then releasing it again. "What's the point of tricking me anyway? What do you want?"
"You," it said.
Gregory swallowed, just barely finding his voice. "F-freak. What do you even mean?"
"Silence." Ennard jerked him closer and caused him to flinch. Its focus returned to Michael. "We need you so that we can leave."
"You want to leave?" Michael threw his arms up. "Why? And what was the point of doing whatever this is to yourselves? You can obviously leave your rooms; the elevator is right there! I don't want you monstrosities out there in the world, but what was the point in this?"
"We want out," Ennard replied. "We want to escape. Sometimes we are allowed out, but they always put us back inside. There is nowhere for us to hide here; we cannot leave, we will never be free."
"So that's why you need me then?" Michael said, glare darkening. "You want me to let you out or something? Because I don't understand what that has to do with luring me here."
Ennard shifted its position, and Gregory shuddered at the metal rubbing against his already-sensitive skin. "No. Even if we can get out, there is nowhere to go—" its voice took on another tone, one he could not interpret— "when we look like this."
"I don't understand." Michael shook his head.
"But if we looked like you, then we could hide," Ennard said. "If we looked like you, then we would have somewhere to go."
He blinked several times. "You're...you're not...I...don't understand."
Ennard adjusted its arm. "We will let the cheater go if you help us."
Michael hesitated, then after a moment, he slowly nodded. "I don't like the thought of you roaming out there, but—" he sighed— "alright. What is it you want exactly? I still don't entirely understand."
"Just stand in front of the scooper," it said, "and he will live."
"Do what? I...have to stand in front of the..." Michael trailed off, his eyes flicking over to the large contraption. All hint of anger left his face, washing away into pure horror. A long silence followed, Michael's eyes locked on the scooper and Gregory staring at him in a baffled silence. Swallowing, he silently went over all of Ennard's words.
As he began to connect the pieces, Ennard spoke again, "Don't worry, it will only hurt for a moment." Gregory tensed, watching Michael shut his eyes and run his hands down his face. Gregory's breaths increased even more, escaping through his captured neck. In and out, in and out, painful and constricted. His head felt like it was swimming as he properly comprehended all the words that had been spoken.
They wanted to leave, but couldn't do so unless they looked like someone; like Michael...
They had combined together, into a humanoid shape...
Michael had to stand in front of the scooper...
That could only mean one thing. It sounded so ridiculous; completely and utterly horrifying. But what other conclusion was there? Gregory trembled harder, wriggling and squirming, striving to reach Michael. If only he had the strength to break through, run to Mike, and drag him right out of there. They should have left; he shouldn't have come back. Neither of them. No, Gregory thought as Michael reopened his eyes and glanced over the scooper. Tears flooded Gregory's eyes once again, and he was forced to still by a tightening of the grip on his waist. No, no, no, he thought. This can't happen; this is my fault. No. No, no, no! Slowly, Michael turned back to the two of them, his expression nearly blank. His gaze focused above Gregory, on Ennard's face.
"If I do as you ask," Mike said, "you'll let him go?" Gregory seized. With those words, it felt like the air had been punched straight out of him. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came.
"Of course," Ennard said.
Michael's eyes narrowed. "And how do I know you're not just pretending? How can I trust you?"
"Our need to escape is too urgent," it replied. "We'll release him and let him run. I cannot guarantee we won't chase after him, but if he gets away properly, we will not pursue him any further. We just want out; we want to hide, we want—"
"Spare me the dramatic speech," Michael cut in. "I just want to know you'll let him live."
"You already heard what I said," Ennard said. "You know the answer. Stop stalling." It tightened its arm for a moment, making Gregory gag. "Or we'll do it by force." Michael fell silent, his gaze lingering on Ennard until finally it shifted down to Gregory. The young boy gulped as his lips parted. He wanted to shout, scream with every fiber of his being for Michael to decline. Why was he even considering it? Why didn't he just refuse?
Straining, Gregory managed to shake his head. Michael just smiled a bit. "It'll be alright."
"Mike," Gregory whispered, unable to speak any louder even though his entire body begged him to. "Don't." Michael's smile faded. "Please." Gregory choked on the word. He meant to go on, repeatedly beg the man he'd come to look up to, the friend he cared for deeply in such little time to refuse. All words fled his reach as Michael's attention shifted back up to Ennard. Gregory felt like screaming the moment Mike did it...
The moment he nodded.
Gregory could only stare numbly at Michael as Ennard spoke, "Thank you. We appreciate your help." Michael did not reply, his eyes once again meeting Gregory's.
"Run," Michael said, speaking softly and earnestly. "Run and don't look back."
Gregory gulped hard, opening his mouth to respond. Once again, no sound came. He could only shake his head while Ennard dragged him away into a darkened corner. Gregory heard it open something but did not see much. His vision blurred, and all he could do was stumble along as the amalgamation yanked him into a new area. It was a room of almost the same size, filled with mostly storage compartments, bits of machinery, and a small number of chairs. He barely focused on this, lost in a blur. Ennard forced him over to a window, causing him to gag at the sudden jerk into a halt. His heart dropped in his chest. The window looked straight into the scooping room where Michael stood, facing the scooper.
"No," Gregory whispered. He reached out his trembling hand and pressed it against the cool glass, as if he could reach through, all the way to Michael. Ennard prevented any other movement; he could only stand still, staring at Michael through the window with tainted, tear-filled vision. The man was quick to return the gaze, their eyes locking across the short distance between them. It felt so much farther to Gregory, the glass and wall between them impenetrable. His chest began to heave with quickening breaths as he watched Ennard reach towards a lever, its attention also fixed on Michael. He didn't even acknowledge it, now smiling softly at Gregory, a comforting expression almost hiding the true terror that lingered in his distant eyes. Neither he nor Gregory looked away, even when the area became repeatedly bathed in a red light. The chilling alarm came, like the countdown to Michael's death, mocking, horrid; final.
One...
Two...
Three...
Gregory finally broke contact, his eyes clamping shut at the sound of machinery lurching forward. Another sound followed it, one of impact. It wasn't loud, like the animatronics. He did not hear metal crashing through metal, but rather something much...softer, squishier. For just a moment, Gregory felt nothing. His breath stopped, and he choked. Ennard released him, and he collapsed like a puppet cut from its strings. He was falling...no, he was lying on the ground. Or was he? He couldn't tell. His head swam as he curled in on himself, his mind millions of miles away. Bile rose in his throat. He gulped it back down, clawing at his aching throat. His fingers brushed over bruised, bloodied skin and the smallest of sobs forced its way out. Every part of him wanted to scream, but no other sounds came. There was just...nothing.
Slowly, his eyes opened. Everything looked blurry. His eyes burned, and unwanted tears rolled down his cheeks, impossibly hot against his skin. He gulped repeatedly down his scratchy throat as he tried to regain himself. His mind was a blur, unable to comprehend what he had witnessed; what he had heard. It was impossible. Michael couldn't be dead. None of that had happened. Of course it hadn't!
Through his muddled mind and repeated words of denial, a single thought broke through. Michael's final words to him.
"Run. Run and don't look back."
Moving mostly automatically, Gregory pushed himself into a seated position. His head spun as he got to his feet. Though his legs wobbled, he managed not to topple over. After a quick scan of the room, he determined there was only one exit. The door Ennard took him through, and specifically, through the scooping room. Gregory's stomach flipped. He didn't want to look, didn't want to see what the scooper did to Michael, or how exactly Ennard would use him.
Don't look, he thought as he opened the door with shaking hands. Just don't look. He had to look at least a little, though. He needed to know where to go. And so, he examined what stood right in front of him, so he at least knew where the vent was. Shadows lay over the conveyor before him; a shape sat behind it, hunched over something unseen. The silhouette moved, and a strange sound came from the corner—squishing...ripping. Gregory put a hand over his mouth and gulped down a lump in his throat. His mind hummed and his senses went in and out as he forced his way through the room. He kept his eyes on the floor, avoiding the scooper, avoiding the animatronic in the corner doing things he didn't want to think about. But, oh, why couldn't he stop thinking about it?
He remained in this state of numbness and disconnection from the world around him, until his foot touched something other than floor. His breath hitched and he again covered his mouth. Blood. The crimson liquid spattered the floor and pooled at his feet. A long streak of it smeared off to the side, leading into that same corner he tried not to look at. It took every ounce of Gregory's being to go on, heading for the vent. It was right there, so close. He could leave; he had to leave. He couldn't stay.
When he made it there and reached to open it, a voice startled him. "You cheated." He froze, arm suspended in the air, his hand inches away from the inviting metal of the vent. "He said...you cheated," said Ennard. "You were supposed to die." Gregory blinked several times. He wanted to reply, but his mind felt too distant to do so. Without his consent, his body moved, and he turned in the direction of the voice. A horrifying animatronic stared back at him, huddled in the corner. Its back was to him, but its masked face peered over its shoulder. It was hunched over something, a lump on the floor that Gregory managed not to examine. All he saw was a glimpse of that same red blood that made his stomach knot, before he forced all focus to remain on Ennard.
Its head tipped to the side, its half-lidded eye flicking over Gregory's face. "But in a way, he has tried to take your punishment, even if he won't..." It changed the direction of its sentence drastically, the feminine voice nearly a hiss as it said, "Would you like a rematch?"
Gregory opened his mouth to respond. All that came out was a single syllable, and then nothing.
"We will do as he requested, and let you run away," it said, "but we did not promise to leave you alone completely. How about this?" Its head tipped farther to the side, metal squeaking and grinding. "You hide, and we search. If you can avoid us until 6 a.m., then we will go our separate ways. It's the least you could do after cheating." Its head jerked to the other side. "Right?"
He inhaled, finding a hint of his voice. "What if I just leave?" he asked, practically whispering.
"Then we will hunt you down," it replied. "We know about the tunnel. You won't be safe; you never will be." It blinked, the metal only hiding one eye for a brief second. "You deserve to die, but we are not unfair. I think this situation is quite fitting."
Gregory closed his eyes for a moment. Any attempt to properly gather himself failed, shattering into pieces at the thought of what had happened. Ennard keeping ahold of him, Michael giving himself up for him; the sound of the scooper ripping through flesh. He reopened his eyes and nearly escaped the memory, forcing out, "Fine, we can play your stupid little game. I-I bet you can't find me." He drew his breath in and let it come gusting back out. "No, I...I know you won't."
"Well then," Ennard said, rising to its full height. Gregory fell back a step, held in place beneath the daunting gaze of the animatronic. "Go hide." With no urge to linger any further, Gregory got down on his hands and knees and hurled himself through the vent into the suffocating darkness of Funtime Auditorium. He tried to get to his feet the moment he entered, but his legs lacked the strength. He fell back to the floor, choking on his breath. His throat pulsed with pain, the rest of his body begged for relief, and every thought and emotion that streaked through him overwhelmed his senses entirely. His chest began to tighten and ache. He pressed himself against the wall, gripping fistfuls of his hair.
"Go," he whispered. "Just go. It'll...i-it'll come. It's gonna come and kill you. Just go." He coughed violently as he stopped a sob that tried to escape. "Just go, you stupid idiot." He covered his face, hoping to rid himself of the pressure in both it and his eyes. More tears came. How he hated them, wished they would leave. He never cried anymore; he was tough. But this? He didn't know how to handle it, could hardly even think. Michael was dead. And every horrifying and comforting moment within these walls and with the kind man himself had finally, after a short amount of time that felt so dreadfully long to him...led to this—a horrifying incident that Gregory didn't want to accept, he couldn't accept. How had he let himself get attached? Why did he keep putting himself into this position? Was this truly how it had to end? Was there something he could have done differently to stop this, anything at all?
"Stupid," he whispered, voice quavering. "Th-this is your fault. All your fault. He's dead, this...this is..." He trailed off and drew his hands away from himself. A new sensation came over him, a burning in his gut. Michael wasn't just dead, he had been killed, killed by the very animatronics that hunted the both of them from the beginning, the reason Gregory was in this mess in the first place. Those heartless pieces of machinery had mercilessly kept him hostage and used this to convince Michael into letting himself die, letting that dreaded scooper rip into his body. Now Ennard would use him somehow, do something Gregory couldn't quite understand. And although the thought of what it could be utterly petrified and disgusted him, over both these emotions rose something else. Rage. Pure, undying rage.
"Run," Gregory whispered, repeating the familiar words to himself. "Run and don't look back." Slowly, his hands curled into fists. This was about his survival, like it always was. That had been his top priority, right? Yet in every situation down in this place, Michael had been the one to save him. Gregory would love the man forever for that, but he wasn't there anymore. It was up to Gregory now. He had to win this game. Michael's sacrifice couldn't be for nothing, and Gregory refused to let the animatronics he hated with every fiber of his being end his life.
"All this fighting won't be for nothing," he said, rising to his feet and setting his jaw. "That animatronic's going down." With those words, he dashed off through the darkness, yanking the keycard from his pocket as he went. He knew exactly where to hide. Ennard didn't stand a chance at finding him.
Or he at least hoped so...