(Unedited, Not Proofread, 4498 words)
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, physical fights, fear, descriptions of blood/injuries
"It's twelve thirty," Kaylen warns, closing the door to her car and walking back over to our group. We're finishing off a light snack and trying to mentally prepare ourselves for what's about to happen. Everyone's at different points in that process, but we're waiting on borrowed time. The longer we sit, the less time we have to react and replan for mistakes and curveballs. At this point, I'm spending my time manifesting a situation where we have neither.
The most basic rundown of this plan is that Jonah and I get to Kid's Cove, give Sam some sense of identity, and break her connection to the Puppet while Kaylen, Mike, and Abby go to the office so Abby can convince JJ and Balloon Boy to help us distract the Toys. Once all three animatronics are on our side, Jonah and I grab the key and meet the others in the private room we met Jeremy earlier. We'll recollect and make any necessary plan changes there. Then we head to parts and service, get in, reunite Jeremy with an animatronic body, wake the other spirits, reunite Jeremy with his other half, and break Afton's hold over Charlie's spirit.
It's a lot to do, and it's all a matter of life or death. If we do this wrong, we could all very easily get killed.
Or, if I've learned anything since this fiasco began, something worse could happen to us.
Regardless of the daunting tasks, we've all at least agreed on one point of importance: Abby's first priority. This agreement happened silently, but we all know her life is the one that shouldn't be risked here.
In the back of my mind, Jonah's life follows close behind Abby's.
He has to come home.
"Is everyone ready?" I ask, trying to hold enough confidence for all of us. It's hard, knowing what's ahead. It's almost harder than blindly following little-Jeremy's vague instructions, which is saying a lot.
"Ready for this to be over," Mike mumbles, stuffing his hands into his pockets as a shiver runs through him. "Ready for a good night's sleep."
"Ready to finally get what you paid for?" I question, side-stepping so I can nudge him with my arm. My hands are both in my hoodie pocket and I don't want to take them out yet, so I nudge him with my arm instead of using my hand. He chuckles and bumps me back.
"So much for a one-time trip to a creepy pizzeria," he teases, a soft smile on his lips even as his eyes lack any emotion. I exhale and look at the ground, trying not to focus too much on everything this investigation into.
"It's almost over," I say, more for myself than for him.
"Almost," he echoes. The words hurts.
"You done, Abs?" Kaylen asks, and Abby graciously hands her candy bar wrapper to her. The woman places the trash in her car and shuts the door.
"Here we go," Mike mumbles.
"Here we go," I repeat.
"Remember: stick together, yell if anything goes south, and if all else fails, Abby is first priority," I reiterate as we walk towards the access door. "Nothing comes in or goes out once we're inside. Not until this is over. If an animatronic beats Jonah and I to the private party room, lock the door, we'll go straight to parts and service. Give JJ and Balloon Boy what they want. Whatever it is, it'll be worth it to not have the Toys all ganging up to get Abby. Everyone understand what they're doing?"
"Got it," Kaylen chimes.
"Yep," Mike confirms.
"Yes!" Abby chirps.
"Mhm," Jonah hums.
We come to a halt in front of the access door. Like before, the building looms over us. A trap waiting to spring with predators on the hunt just inside.
"Jonah and I are making a break for Kid's Cove. We have to beat the Puppet there and lock ourselves in. You guys get to the office as soon as you can. There's no door, so you'll have to use the private rooms for cover. If the Puppet appears, Abby still has command over it. Don't panic, we've got this," I say, trying once again to boost morale and prepare us for what will likely be the worst hour or two of our entire lives. "Jonah and I might be a while."
"We'll hold down the fort," Mike confirms.
"Board the vents up with tables and furniture," I remind him, turning to look at the man to make sure my words are received. He nods, and his eyes find mine as he does.
In the second we spend standing still with our gazes locked, I feel a hint of safety. A smidge of relief. A spark of hope. Nothing too life changing, but definitely comforting. It's a feeling I wish I had not only now, but more often in general.
Stay safe, please.
"Ready?" I ask, turning to Jonah. I take my hands out of my pockets and turn on my flashlight, holding it tight. Jonah stares straight ahead, blue eyes wide and sparkling with tears as he pants in fear through his mouth. His shoulders are tense, and his hands shake, but he nods.
I've never seen him so scared, or so willing to do physical and emotional labor. I hope and pray it isn't for nothing.
We can't do this without him.
I reach forward and grab the doorknob. The metal is cold against my hand, and the energy buzzing on the other side sends an extra shock of shivers down my spine.
"Josie," Mike says gently, and I inhale as deep as I can.
A slight twist of my wrist is all it takes to open the door. I pull back on it gently, letting it slowly slip out of my grasp. As soon as my hand isn't wrapped around the handle, Jonah's fingers interlock with mine. There is no moment of hesitation, no final words, no last goodbye. We break into a full sprint across the game room and leave the rest of the group behind at the door.
We hold our breaths, we run on our toes, we keep our eyes on the door we're aiming for. I even point the flashlight straight down to keep it as subtle as I can.
In the seconds it takes to run across the room, I snag several memories like I did in our escape yesterday. In some of them, the Puppet is out of the box and watching where we're running. The lifeless look in its black eyes somehow makes eye contact with me a few times. Anxiety sparks with every first step under its gaze, but each memory quickly peels away, and the empty prize counter area reveals itself again. The box's top is still on, and part of me can feel the Puppet inside.
I try to convince myself that it's a coincidence and that the Puppet couldn't possibly know we're here.
Not yet.
But I can't shake the feeling that the memories are trying to warn me. About what, I don't know, but I've committed to this plan and I'm not abandoning it.
Not yet.
When we reach the Kid's Cove door, I practically run into it while trying to free my hand from Jonah's and twist the doorknob. Once I manage to open it, I step inside and guide Jonah in as I immediately pull it shut behind us. As soon as it's closed, I lock it and step back, taking a few deep breaths to clear my mind. After a moment, I turn around and point my flashlight into the room before us.
Jonah's hand instantly finds its way to my left forearm— which he then squeezes— as the inside of Kid's Cove becomes apparent. It's about the size of two or three of the private party rooms. The floors are black and white checkered tiles, and there's a ton of silver and black wires hanging from the ceiling. The walls are grey with a single strip— about a foot wide— of a green checkered pattern wrapped around it about two feet off the ground. The paintings on the wall are old and peeling, but the chipped paint still holds the memory of pizzas and the ghost of confetti. Old, faded streamers sag from the ceiling, and a dusty, warped table takes up the rest of the wall the door is on. A few party hats and presents still sit on top of it, a birthday party having been postponed decades still sits in waiting for the attendees. Posters and old, old drawings hang on the wall, all promoting different animatronics. Little names are signed in the corners of each drawing, but they were written in pen and the ink has practically melted off the page after so many hot summers and cold winters.
The most unnerving detail of the room isn't actually the old red stains on the floor that reflect my flashlight beam even though they're dry. It's not the bones neatly organized in little piles by shapes and sizes at the base of the far wall. It's not even the hand-sized spider in the corner above the warped table, with a web the color of snow and as thick as a wasp's nest hanging from the ceiling.
No, no, no.
The most unsettling part of Kid's Cove is the lack of its star character.
Mangle isn't here.
"Josie—" Jonah whispers, fear and panic rising in his voice.
"I know, I know," I assure him, pointing my flashlight up to the ceiling to search for any holes the animatronic could have slipped out through. Sure enough, there are plenty.
"Josie, I can feel her," Jonah cries, and I turn sharply to him, my flashlight now pointed at his face. Tears streak down his cheeks and his hands shake so violently I'm scared he's going to drop his flashlight and wake the Puppet up. "She's here. She's here, somewhere."
"Tell me what you feel," I press, knowing this might be my only chance to get any coherent sentences out of his mouth. His gaze flicks around the room, his bottom lip quivering as his mouth hangs slightly open. He's searching for something. Feeling the room, feeling for her.
He'll never find her this panicked.
"Breathe," I whisper, taking my free hand and grabbing his flashlight to take at least one thing off his mind. "You're gonna pass out, Jonah."
"She's mad," he says, his eyes finding mine as another tear slips down his cheek, "and I don't know why. And—" He shakes his head, cutting himself off.
"Jonah, I can't feel her so I need you to tell me what you can," I explain, urging him to complete his thoughts.
"It's not just her," he forces the words out in a near-silent whisper.
"What do you mean, not just her?" I ask, and he shakes his head again. This time, I don't worry about him not responding, because he forces one out on his own.
"She's not the only mad one," he admits. After taking a deep breath, he asks, "You can't feel Charlie, can you?"
I pause, looking away from him and allowing myself to seep back into the energies of the building. Immediately I am overwhelmed by images of death and terror, all housed in Kid's Cove. All belonging in part to Mangle.
"No, not in here," I reply, shaking my head, "there's too many memories. Is Charlie mad?"
"Her and Sam are..." his voice trails off, but his hand makes a simple gesture that finishes the thought for the both of us.
They're both mad. They're influencing one another. They're connected.
The memories were warning me.
"Charlie definitely knows we're here then," I admit quietly, letting go of his flashlight and taking a step back. "This is going to be a lot harder than expected."
"What do we do?" he asks, his voice shaking more than his hands. I think for a moment, breathing deeply.
We can't get through to Sam with Charlie in the way; I'm gonna have to break it up.
"You can feel her?" I question, handing him my flashlight as I pull my bag to one shoulder and unzip it.
"Yeah," he confirms, "but—"
"If you can feel her—" I pry the amethyst out— "you can get through to her."
"But you just said the Puppet—" he starts to argue, but I set the amethyst on the table and as soon as I let go, the plastic beneath the crystal crumbles and the gemstone falls to the floor. I try to grab it, but the crash echoes through the room before I can stop it.
All is dead silent for a moment.
"Fuck," I whisper.
"Who do you think heard that?" He asks quickly.
A clear symphony of crashes and clicks choruses outside in the game room.
That's not good.
"Doesn't matter," I lie, trying to hold an air of confidence that he can trust. I zip my bag and crouch down, grabbing the biggest piece of amethyst and lifting it away from all the little pieces that were chipped off by the fall.
"Josie," Jonah begs, "what's your plan? What are you doing?"
"If the Puppet didn't know we were here already," I say, handing him the amethyst, "it does now. Which means, as much as I hate to say it, someone's going to have to tear its attention away so you can get through to Sam and Mangle and get the key."
"Josie, that doesn't have to be you, we can—"
"Who else is gonna do it?" I cut him off, taking off my bag and setting it down on the ground next to him. He tries to grab my arm, but I step back.
I can't let him think he can convince me to stay.
"Josie, please," he begs. I shake my head in response. He opens his mouth to try again, but no words come out. His eyes flick to his left, my right, further into the room.
Before I can even ask what he's looking at, I hear the horrible screech of metal scraping against metal, a metallic symphony descending down onto us. I turn around to find the Mangle slowly lowering itself down from the ceiling. All its mechanic pieces cry out as it sinks down to the ground, and the glowing yellow eye in the head with the faceplate flicks over to us the moment the entire animatronic is on the ground.
"Josie," Jonah breathes, and I slowly step in front of him, reaching an arm back to guide him behind me. His flashlight flashes partially around me to illuminate the figure in the middle of the floor, the light bouncing back on the reflective bits of its mangled body.
This time, I'm more prepared for the panic that sets in. I'm ready for the screaming voices and agonizing memories flashing behind my eyelids every time I blink. I might not like it, but the horrors Mangle shows me don't stagger me as much as last time. No matter how much they hurt, I refuse to let them get to me. Not when Jonah's life is in jeopardy.
"Try it now," I whisper, watching how Mangle tilts its head and looks from me to the little bit of him it can see from where it's standing.
Standing?
Lurking. Stalking. Waiting.
"Sam?" Jonah asks, and the only response we get is the clanks of gears and clicks of an eyelid blinking at us.
If I weren't so close to a panic attack, I might've made a joke about it winking.
Jonah grabs onto my arm and squeezes, and I step back closer to him to try and ease his panic. The last thing I need right now is for him to pass out like I did. I can't carry him out, and I can't fight off what's left of the animatronic in the middle of the room.
Mangle watches us, but makes no moves to come any closer or go away. Parts of its body shift and clatter to or scrape across the floor. Its ears flick back and forth, waving bits of cobweb around like small, wispy flags. The spiders that made them crawl across its face, some sneaking into breaks in the faceplate and disappearing beneath the wired mess.
"I don't feel her anymore," Jonah whispers, and after a quick glance back, I realize he's not lying. His terrified eyes meet mine, his mouth slightly open as he breaths through it to try and regulate his panting breaths. When I turn back to the animatronic before us, I come to the same realization.
Sam is nowhere to be found, her spirit wiped clear from the plethora of voices and memories I feel now. The monster ahead of us holds no more familiarity than the presents to our left or the bones across the room.
The Puppet knows.
"Look for the key," I whisper, keeping my eyes on Mangle.
Jonah steps to the side and begins to pan his flashlight around. As soon as he does, Mangle lurches forward and takes a few slow, threatening steps towards us. Jonah jumps and I grab him as best as I can, pulling him behind me. As soon as he's out of the direct danger zone, Mangle starts to make horrible screeching noises. Its jaw locks and unlocks, falling open and closing in irregular patterns. Jonah grabs my forearm and his grip tightens with every raise in volume.
It takes me a moment to realize it's a voice, and even longer to realize it's not talking to us. Music starts to rise from the game room, an old electric guitar trying its best to call out a melancholy tone. It's quiet. Distant. Like an old memory. It sends shivers down my spine.
Bonnie's fully awake.
I thought we'd have more time.
"Jonah—" I try to decide— on the fly— what I should do right now, but suddenly I'm on the floor and I have no idea how I got there or how Mangle— in its disheveled, dilapidated form— can move so fucking fast.
"Jonah!" My voice screams as metal and bits of plastic bodysuit crawl over me. I can hear Jonah yelling a slew of curses, but I can't see through the endless amount of wires and pipes and horrible memories hovering over me. I try to shove myself out from under it before it steps on or impales me, but Mangle has me completely trapped between its arms and legs. Almost like it planned this.
Blood rushes in my ears as I try to roll onto my stomach, my eyes flickering with memories as the pressure of the floor shifts along my body. Mid-turn, some something snags my forearm and I hear the hoodie rip. A moment later, as I get to my stomach, I feel wetness soaking through the cloth. Through the rip, I see red.
Blood.
Adrenaline keeps any pain away, but the floor beneath me changes shades and patterns multiple times, and the sounds of music and children screaming and laughing echo in my ears. Everything is too loud and I am too trapped. Too close to the spiders crawling in the Mangle. Too restricted by wires and pipes and metal and noise and sounds and light. Too overstimulated to be trapped under something that could kill at any moment.
Whenever the Puppet tells it to.
I have to get to the Puppet.
"Jonah!" I cry, my voice cracking as I try to find anything I can use to hoist myself out from under the Mangle's body. The floor is too smooth and slick from dust, I can't push hard enough to free myself.
"Sam, stop!" Jonah shouts somewhere so far away. Mangle flinches away from him and I panic, terrified that I'm going to get cut again. From here, I can see my arm fully through the rip and can assess the cut Mangle's underbody left on my skin. It's deep and rough-looking, but it's better than being impaled.
That thought unexpectedly activates some survival instinct, almost as if my body now understands that can happen and that I need to keep it from happening.
I flip back over slowly and painfully ask, "Jonah, what's happening?" The Mangle hasn't moved since its flinch, and even though that wasn't necessarily that long ago, it's being surprisingly tame now.
"I don't know," he admits shakily, "it's just looking at me. I'm— are you okay?"
"Bleeding," I reply, looking through the wires to try and find a solid piece I can grab onto and push off of.
Like a miracle, I find one.
"I'm gonna try to get out," I say firmly. Jonah starts to argue with me, but I don't wait for his approval.
Both of my hands grip a metal bar and push as hard as they can. As soon as I'm out, Mangle's face whirls around, jaw unlocked and ready to bite. Chaos ensues immediately.
I scamper backwards with my hands and feet until I strike a wall, watching in horror as Mangle's teeth get closer to my face. Jonah's hands grab onto Mangle's second head and pull, forcing Mangle to momentarily turn to him. I, having no self-preservation and an undying, animalistic need to keep its attention away from Jonah, use the opportunity to smash both of my feet into the faceplate head and knock it far enough to my right that I can escape left before it can turn around.
"Josie!" Jonah yells, trying to stay out of Mangle's direct line of sight by circling in time with its movements.
"Do you feel her?" I shout, running from the Mangle to put space between me and it as the mess tries to untangle itself from the knot it tied while trying to get both of us at once.
"Kind of!" he replies. "Somewhere!" Mangle finally turns to me as I come to a stop near the door. It immediately crouches and its jaw unlocks as if the preparation for a pounce caused its mouth to fall open.
I freeze, panic flooding me as a little girl's voice asks quietly if I can get her out. A boy with a familiar voice begs for help. Kids cry and scream and plead. So many voices flood my mind. I drown in the words of the people I couldn't save. The people I have to save now.
"Josie!"
Mangle turns to him, responding to his sudden yelling, and it screeches again. I ready myself to leap between the two of them, but Mangle makes no sudden advances. Instead, its pink and white ears pin back to its head and then spring forward again. For a split second, it feels curious instead of murderous.
I glance over at Jonah, trying to gauge his reaction to this. He's standing in front of the bones now, and I'm back near the door and the warped table. His face is pale with fear, and he has a small cut beneath his eyebrow, but his jaw and his fists are clenched and there is a fiery look of determination in his eyes as his gaze settles on Mangle.
The weight of the situation starts to settle in.
Sam isn't clear enough for Jonah to get through to, and I'm no help with the voices screaming for help.
The Puppet is awake, Charlie knows we're here, and she's probably the one holding Sam out of our reach.
Toy Bonnie is awake, and he might already be after Abby.
Abby, Mike, and Kaylen may or may not have JJ and Balloon Boy's help already.
So many things have to be changed. So many things have to be worked out. I have so much to do and so little time and so little space for errors.
We need the key.
And to do that, Mangle needs to calm down. And to do that, we need Sam. And the only way to get to Sam is to distract Charlie and hope Sam can claw her way out.
I need to get out.
I need a way to distract Charlie.
"Jonah—" I speak before I think about the consequences.
Immediately, Mangle's attention turns back to me.
"Shit," I whisper, trying to get around the table to keep turning Mangle in circles. Before I can take two steps, it launches forward. I recoil sharply to avoid its claws and unlocked jaw, but my movement results in Mangle smashing into the table, instantly turning it into a mess of broken plastic, ripped wrapping paper, and dust spewing outward.
A memory blinks in and out of existence as Mangle fights to get away from the table. The random appendages Mangle possesses are caught in the broken plastic, and with every tug and every present falling to the floor, the memory blinks in my eyes. Every time, the saturation decreases and the edges fray. Bits of it disappear into nothing until the only part left is the presents, which flash from color to black and white before the memory fully disappears.
No more party.
A horrible realization comes to mind.
Memories can be tampered with.
A second later, an even worse thought voices itself.
"Jonah," I say, turning to the boy across the room, the one still cradling the amethyst in one hand and his flashlight in the other, "I know how to distract Charlie. Can you get to Sam?"
He doesn't think, he doesn't hesitate, he simply replies, "Yes."
"Are you sure?" I ask, backing away from the thrashing Mangle as it begins to resort to screaming and flailing. Multiple voices echo across the room, the symphony of their voices congregating into a single word: help.
"Yes," Jonah says, almost breathlessly. "She won't hurt me."
"Promise," I beg, already looking around for my flashlight. I find it right beside the broken table and the panicking Mangle. Quickly, I grab it and look back up at Jonah. Once he sees my eyes on him, he lifts the amethyst up like a wine glass for a toast and says:
"Like a religion."
He's got it.
Now it's your turn.
"I'll be back, I promise!" I call, abandoning my bag and holding the flashlight as tight as I can in my right hand. I grab the doorknob with my left and unlock it before twisting the knob sharply and throwing myself out of Kid's Cove.
Only one thought is on my mind as I stumble and slam the door shut behind me.
Charlie knew Sam when they were alive. I need Charlie to forget her.
(A/N: This took an unexpected turn as I was writing it. Expect the unexpected, I guess. Also, I've rewritten this like nine times, and I've used previous parts in every revision, so if something changes halfway through or if things are inconsistent, let me know. I can't bring myself to proofread again lol) ((Also I literally have no idea how I'm supposed to tie this back into the ending I had planned, so we'll see how that goes))
Please leave a like if you enjoyed and again, feel free to correct my spelling/grammar in the comments :)