BekooBove

Even the Wasteland can be kind of beautiful...especially if you have friends to enjoy it with.

Infinity Train: Artist's Path

Chapter 1: The Library Car, Pages 1-5

COMING SOON

Infinity Train: Artist's Path

As of late, Marcus Dean's life has been...a mixed bag.

On one hand, shortly after his arrival on the Infinity Train, Marcus befriended the free-spirited Randal and the passenger-studying Goldie. They've accompanied him through many fantastical universes, all contained within train cars. That part's pretty good.

On the other hand, Marcus is trapped. The only way off the train, back to his normal life, is to confront some of his most monumental problems. His regrets, his insecurities, and the seemingly uncrossable chasm between the person he wants to be and the person he is now- nothing is off the table.

Not only that, but as Marcus' journey progresses, he and his friends must fend off horrific Ghoms from the wasteland, seemingly spurred on by mysterious technology. As the attacks grow fiercer and his problems more personal, Marcus must work with his new friends, discover the truth, and decide if he's ready to forge his own path.

WHAT IS INFINITY TRAIN: ARTIST'S PATH?

Infinity Train: Artist's Path is an original story, told in comic form, from the universe of the acclaimed but mistreated Cartoon Network/HBOMax series Infinity Train. Each Book of the series covered a different character's experience aboard the mysterious train, confronting their personal issues in order to lower their number to zero and return home, and Artist's Path is no different.

HAVE I SEEN THIS BEFORE?

It's possible! For about two years now this comic has been posted on the Infinity Train subreddit. However, I recently decided it was necessary to branch out to other platforms in order to reach a wider audience.

Regardless, you haven't seen it like this. The first chapter of the comic is simply not up to my current standards. I don't feel the need to delete it from Reddit, but at the same time I'd be embarrassed posting it elsewhere. Thus, the entire first chapter is being remade.

HOW OFTEN WILL IT BE POSTED?

Like I said, I'm remaking the first chapter, but I'm also trying to keep working on the comic as it is now. I want to remain consistent, and I'll do my best, but no promises.

WHAT IS THE SOURCE OF THE TECHNOLOGY THAT IS CONTROLLING THE GHOMS?

Well, as Marcus will eventually find out, there is a to- wait. I don't think I should spoil that...

 “I think that’s my pen, Johnson.” I prodded. I had no reason to, of course.

 Everett Johnson, my next-door cubicle neighbor of seven years, frowned. “I’m pretty sure I have a blue pen like this one. To be fair, I found it on the floor between us…”

 I knew Johnson, just like me, was internally amused at the idea of either of us needing to be fair. It’d been decades since that had been the job of people like us. 

 “...But still, I’m certain this is mine.”

 On cue, we both looked at the camera suspended in the ceiling. Its small red light glowed, as it always had. Without another word, we resumed our work. We had no reason to waste company time over an issue that would be settled overnight.

-

 After the day’s work was complete, I headed to the speedrail station. I always arrived about ten minutes before the speedrail itself did, meaning I always had time to admire the nearby Network Dome. One of several throughout the city, it was surrounded by a small plaza filled with trees and benches, to beautify it I suppose. Not that it needed beautifying- it could have been the ugliest thing in the world and still earn its place of honor every night.

 It was a little more ugly today, though. Red streaks of spattered paint covered much of its silvery surface, spelling out several phrases. Among them: FREE YOURSELF! THE NETWORK ROBBED US OF WHAT MAKES US HUMAN! WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF IT ALL BREAKS! In addition, there were several renditions of the same symbol- a side profile of a person with a small rectangular hole in their head leaking blood. A person with their port torn out.

 Instinctively, I rubbed the area where my port was located, just above my right ear. The concept of it being gone was disturbing, not just for the injury but for what it would mean for me. What would I do without it? What could I do?

 That graffiti had to be the work of the Regressives- a name they had never used for themselves, but fitting for any semi-organized group who opposed the Network. As dangerous as non-Network linked individuals sounded on paper, they were kind of all bark and no bite- more meaningless symbols that could easily be cleaned away like the graffiti than an actual threat to the city. As if to prove it, a small fleet of Network Maintenance Drones arrived, and began spraying water on the dome. The red diluted to pink in the spray, and began running off the dome in thick rivulets. I smiled as I watched, just as my speed rail arrived.

-

 Dinner that night was delicious, as it was every night. Morgan, my wife, and I took turns cooking each night, and the Network had ensured we knew each other and our childrens’ tastes like our own. Our children- Sam and Laura- provided the only sore spot of the evening, fighting over who knows what. Not something for me and Morgan to concern ourselves with- the Network would resolve that- but it was a little irritating. Still, all things considered, it had been another near-perfect day.

-

 Finally, time for bed. Time for today’s strife to be undone. Morgan was already fast asleep, plugged in. I smiled at her, wondering what conflicts the Network would rectify for her throughout the night.

 Like I had a million times before, I grabbed the two small wires which of course led down into the floor, through a complicated tangle for about a mile, before eventually linking up with the nearest Network Dome. I carefully held them to the side of my head and plugged them into the ports embedded there. There was a satisfying click, and the familiar sensation of mental data analysis began. The Network’s program scanned my memories, taking note of many things, most importantly my moments of annoyance. With Everett Johnson for claiming my pen was his, with the Regressives for their discomforting graffiti, with my children for their argument. The Network processed these grievances, and filed them away to resolve before I awoke. 

 These were hardly the most grand problems I’d ever tasked the Network with resolving, I thought as I climbed into bed. All the Network had to do for the pen was review our building’s security footage, determine I was the pen’s true owner, and relay this information to Johnson as he slumbered. As for the others- the graffiti was gone and my childrens’ conflict was being settled at this very moment, so all that was left to deal with was my own emotions. I climbed into bed, sure of what I would dream about as I slept. I would gain a better understanding of the circumstances that led Johnson to believe the pen was his, what my children had fought over, and be reminded, as I had many times before, why the Regressives acted the way they did. That was what the Network was for after all.

 It connected you with everyone. It gave you full knowledge of their life, their troubles, their mistakes- it forced you to understand yesterday’s affronts by the time tomorrow rolled around. Not only was the Network a near foolproof method for resolving injustices, it essentially automated the old society process of “empathy”.

 Honestly, this idea that this task of attempting to understand the behavior of someone who had harmed you, to sympathize with them, to move past trespasses that often wouldn’t be erased- all of that had once been the responsibility of the individual was bizarre. It was an old burden, eradicated by the Network, so I rarely gave it much thought, but it still baffled me that such an important facet of life had been left up to easily failable humans.

 I didn’t give it much thought that night. I quickly drifted off into peaceful slumber.

-

 Dreamless slumber.

 I realized it the moment I woke up. I had no memory of anything from last night- no scenes played in my head explaining the affronts of others. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know why I had been wronged.

 I yanked the cables out of my port, checking to see if they’d broken. Nope- they were still plugged into the wall. I turned to Morgan, only to see her sitting up in bed, looking just as shell-shocked. “I…I didn’t…” she stammered.

 Without another word, I leaped out of bed and dashed to the living room, where our TV was. I grabbed the remote, clicked on the first news channel I could find, and…

 “...at this point in time, eight of the city’s fourteen Domes have been reported as temporarily out of commission. The terrorist attack, believed to be the work of the Regressive Movement, occurred at 2:42 AM…”

 The grim tone the newscaster spoke with didn’t even begin to match the feeling of dread sinking in my stomach. The Regressives had actually done something- the worst thing they could have done. For the first time I could remember, I felt angry, not just because of the severity of their actions…but because this was the first time I had been mentally capable of feeling that way. Without the aid of the Network, I couldn’t even begin to rationalize their actions. In fact, I…

 No. I had to ignore those thoughts. The newscaster was already relaying a statement from the Emergency Network Maintenance Commission (the only one they’d ever given) that the downed Domes would be up and running again within hours. I knew my office had emergency Network Connection points, so when the Network went back up, I could immediately have these thoughts processed and purged.

 I got ready for work as quickly as I could. Morgan was still in bed, so I relayed the news to her. I suppose I could have spent more time comforting her, or pulling apart my children whose fight from yesterday was ongoing, but those problems would be resolved soon, and I honestly didn’t really feel like it anyway. Soon enough I left, and tried to act like everything was normal.

-

 It wasn’t, of course. I could tell from the moment I boarded the speedrail. Some people seemed normal, if a little uneasy. From the districts of the six unharmed Domes, I presumed. The rest had looks in their eyes- looks of irritation, anger. They looked like any minute, they would snap.

I was eager to get off the speedrail. As I did, I noticed the Dome from yesterday. I could see a large crack in its curvature, with a dark smoke emanating from within. Maintenance Drones surrounded the structure, each equipped with a variety of tools. I felt reassured, knowing this would all be over soon.

-

 I tried to keep a cheerful face as I walked into the office, politely greeting my coworkers as I made my way to my cubicle. When I arrived, I noticed the glowing light in the nearby camera was dim. It wasn’t the most chilling indicator of last night’s attack that I’d seen today, but it still made me uneasy. That camera had been a constant for as long as I’d worked there, and it had often helped resolve conflicts with-

Everett Johnson.

I heard sounds of movement from his cubicle. Sure enough, he was there, settling into his chair, absentmindedly clicking my pen. He noticed me peeking and paused. “Oh, hey.”

 “My…my pen.” I pointed, somewhat stupidly.

 “Oh, were you in one of the downed districts? Crazy, right? Didn’t think the Regressives had it in ‘em.” He chuckled. “Yeah, anyway, my district wasn’t down, and the Network determined the pen was mine.”

 That very same statement, had it come from the Network, would have silenced me immediately. But from Johnson, it felt worthless. How was I even supposed to know he wasn’t lying? I didn’t know where he lived, the Network may have been down for him too. Maybe he’d taken advantage of that in order to keep the pen- my pen.

 This was the first time in my entire existence that I’d had to wait more than a day for what I deserved. Sure, the Network would probably be back up soon, but justice even hours overdue felt wrong. More than that, I felt like every annoyance I’d ever experienced towards Johnson was bubbling up, without the Network’s nightly suppressant. The moments that followed seemed to last eternities, as they kept building, and building, until…

 I felt nothing but hatred for Everett Johnson. It was an entirely new, burning sensation. And it was exhilarating. I wanted nothing more than to act on this feeling, as much as possible. And I did.

 Without another word, I rushed at him. He had already turned back to his desk, clearly assuming our conversation was over. He was right, ultimately. Johnson turned back slightly, just in time to see my fist fly towards him. It collided with his face, and I winced slightly as my knuckle slammed into his tough jaw. It hurt, but judging by the shriek he emitted it hurt him more, so I kept going. Before he could even react, I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it into his desk. There was a satisfying crack, and when I lifted his head back up I saw blood pouring out. It reminded me of the paint washing off the Dome yesterday. Was this what the Regressives had been fighting for all these years? Why had I ever opposed them? Why had anybody?

 I slammed his head again for good measure, then dumped his limp body on the floor. I didn’t know if he was knocked out or dead, but I didn't care. I couldn’t even stop myself from laughing. When I turned, I saw several other coworkers staring in stunned silence, probably drawn by Johnson’s obnoxious scream. A few looked utterly horrified- a few others looked intrigued, almost eager. I couldn’t have cared less, of course. I was free. For the first time in my life, I was free.

-

 You know the rest of the story, of course. An emergency squad was deployed by the Network once it was repaired a few hours later, and I was forcibly plugged in. Everything from yesterday was resolved, which included my discovery that Everett Johnson had been right- the pen was his. I considered apologizing to him, but I knew the Network would relay those sentiments while he recovered over the following weeks in the Medical Center.

 My “antisocial outburst” as the condition became known, was one of almost a hundred such incidents to occur that morning. I’m certain that with every minute that passed, that number would have increased exponentially. Since that day, the media has theorized that the damage to the Network Domes was just a cover for the Regressives’ true goals- hacking as many Network users as possible with a computer virus designed to make them act violently. They have not come up with a reasonable explanation as to how this was possible, which makes sense because that theory is complete bullshit. 

 We who experienced these outbursts rarely speak of that day, except to profess remorse and pray the Network ensures nothing like it ever happens again. We all know we are lying, because we all know what we felt that day. 

 Deep down, we hope for the Network to shatter once more, and to be allowed to hate again.

 …Harvey wants to uncover the secrets behind a disappearance, but might just lose himself in the pursuit of answers…

 Harvey didn’t blame people if they thought it was creepy. But he couldn’t help it.

 He picked up on small details others couldn’t, usually connected to recurring habits. Things even the person doing them might not notice.

 Angela, his neighbor, was a prime example. Years of living in side-by-side apartments had taught him two things about her. Every weekday she would leave at about 8:00 and return at 6:30, usually with her boyfriend. That was the status quo. That was normal.

 But normal had taken a sabbatical over the last month. First, Angela’s boyfriend has started coming less and less. One night, Harvey heard them arguing loudly through the thin walls, then her front door slam open as someone stormed off angrily. The visits stopped after that.

 The newest development was much more concerning, though. It had been a week since Angela had left her room. Every day, at 8:00 and 6:30, Harvey would listen intently, straining for the sound of her door opening, of her going out or in, but it never came.

 And that’s what led him here, kneeling in front of that very door, wiggling a twisted bobby pin around in the lock.

 Their apartment was cheap, the locks nothing fancy. Harvey hoped that would mean the two videos on lock-picking would be enough to get him in. He kept shifting it, straining his ears for the tiny cylinders shifting, occasionally looking around to make sure no one was coming, when…

 Click. The door swung open.

 Harvey quickly stood up and made his way inside, shutting the door behind him. He was half flushed with success, and half in a complete panic. “Oh god.” He muttered. “I broke into someone’s apartment…”

 He couldn’t be caught. If his suspicions were correct, Angela wouldn’t be returning, but he remained on edge.

 Slowly he searched the apartment, and didn’t see anything odd. He was really starting to worry he’d done this all for nothing. However, when he looked in her bedroom, that possibility vanished.

 A chill went down his spine- not just from the tense situation, but from the cold. Angela’s bedroom was freezing. In horror, he noticed the window was smashed open, the icy winter wind blowing in.

 Harvey peeked out the window. He realized that the rusty old fire escape was right next to it.

 Someone had climbed up and broken in. Someone had abducted her.

 Harvey began hyperventilating. All his life, he’d read books where someone was kidnapped, and a brave hero went off to find them. But this was no story. His neighbor, the woman he lived next to, had been taken by some madman. Had Harvey been in his apartment when it happened, only ten feet and a wall away as she was dragged out the window?

 Whatever. As much as Harvey wished he could be that brave hero, he couldn’t. Time to call the police.

 “911, what’s your emergency?” The operator answered.

 “Uh, hi.” Harvey answered as he began to make his way out of the apartment. “I haven’t seen my neighbor in a week. She’s normally quite…sociable with me, so I’m starting to get worried.”

 That was a lie, of course. Angela had never spoken a word to him, but that seemed more palatable than informing the police he’d memorized the schedule and habits of a recently kidnapped woman.

 “Ok. Where are you located?”

 “We both live in the Oak Heights apartment complex. She lives in room 224, I’m right next to her.”

 “We’ll send someone over to look. They should be there in ten minutes.”

 “Right. Thank you.” Harvey hung up. He had to get out of here quickly.

 He reentered the living room, but noticed something amiss. Sitting on the table was a large, rectangular box.

 Harvey stared. He was almost certain that hadn’t been in there when he’d entered. It definitely stuck out in this otherwise relatively lively and colorful apartment.

 The box was a dark gray, reinforced with two rows of bolts that ran vertically. It had two latches, each sealed with a golden padlock. He moved closer and tentatively touched it. The metal was slick and smooth to the touch. Whatever, he thought. The police will figure out-

 Suddenly, he recoiled, pulling his hand from the box. “I touched it.” He muttered, horrified. “Now my fingerprints will be on it! They’ll trace it back to me!”

 In the distance, sirens echoed.

 Harvey panicked. He grabbed the box and ran back into his apartment, slamming Angela’s and his doors on the way.

 He stared at the box as he set it down. “I…stole evidence from a crime scene. Oh god, I could be arrested as an accessory.”

 Harvey thought it over. He couldn’t return it; he wouldn’t have enough time to clean his fingerprints off. But he couldn’t just do nothing. He knew this box was somehow involved in  Angela’s disappearance. So he only had one choice: he’d have to do what he’d just thought himself too scared to, and solve the case himself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Detective Cass Achebe surveyed the apartment hallway, filled with cops. All of them were clustered around the victim’s door, clearly unsure of what to do. One gangly, younger officer turned when he heard her and gasped. “D-d-detective Achebe! What are you doing here?”

 Cass was the best detective in the police force. She specialized in disappearance cases, and usually was only assigned to the ones that stumped everyone else. It was uncommon for her to be at the scene of the crime within hours.

 “I made a special request to Chief Simmons to get on this one a little early.” She explained. “Miss Angela West here was a witness in another unsolved disappearance case- a friend of hers, I believe. I felt there might be a connection.”

 An older man Cass recognized as Officer Wrigley approached her. “So, you really think we got some kinda serial kidnapper or something?”

 “Can’t rule it out. So, any witnesses of any kind?”

 “Not exactly. We did contact her partner, and he said she’d been acting strange over the past couple of weeks. He’s out of town, though.”

 “Keep in touch so we can question him when he gets back. Was he the one who called?”

 “Nah. The guy next door was the caller- said he hadn’t seen her in a week, and got worried. Some guys talked to him a bit earlier, but you can if you like.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harvey didn’t know why he kept checking under his bed. The box wasn’t going to run out and announce, “Hey, everybody, Harvey stole me from the crime scene!” And yet he wanted to be sure it was there still, hidden.

 He heard footsteps, and quickly clambered back onto his bed, trying not to look suspicious. A tall, dark-skinned woman with short frizzy hair knocked on the doorway. “Hello, sir. I’m Detective Achebe. I’d like to ask you a few questions. First off, I didn’t catch your name from the other officers…”

 “Oh, yeah. Uh, I’m Harvey, Harvey White. Nice to meet you.” He weakly held out his hand.

 She shook it firmly. “Now, according to Officer Wrigley, you called 911 because you hadn’t seen Miss West in a week. At what times of day did you typically see her?”

 Harvey tried to keep his cool. “Well, I only saw her sometimes. Usually I heard her leaving the apartment in the morning and returning in the evening. The doors here are creaky, and the walls are thin.”

 It was a strange sensation- Harvey wasn’t lying about anything, but it felt like he was. Guess withholding any information at all in a kidnapping case did that to you.

 “I see. Now, did you notice any odd behavior from Miss West leading up to her disappearance, anything at all?”

 “I heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. I think they broke up. Other than that, nothing.”

 Detective Achebe looked off thoughtfully. “Ok, then. We’ll keep in touch, but no further questions for now. Could I just have your number?”

 Harvey scribbled it down on a scrap of paper and handed it to her.

 She nodded. “Thank you for your time, sir.”

 The detective turned to leave. As she passed through the doorway, Harvey thought he heard a voice, whispering.

 “She suspects you. She thinks you did it.”

 Harvey yelped. Detective Achebe turned back. “You ok?”

 Harvey glanced around the room. He was alone.

 “Uh, yeah. Just fine.”

 She left.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 There! Harvey thought he heard it again, just barely.

 It was hours later. He had gone to bed, and most of the police had left for the night. And yet he couldn’t sleep. Whenever he got close to it, that voice he’d heard earlier muttered in his ear, prodding him with snippets of “Keep me hidden.” and “Trust no one.”

 He wanted to write it off as a guilty conscience- not normally the most appealing idea, but infinitely better than what he feared. The box, the one right below him, was speaking to him.

 Almost as soon as he processed that thought, the voice became clearer. “You need to save Angela, Harvey.”

 Harvey didn’t move a muscle, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. Still, he responded hesitantly. “No- no, I don’t. The police will find her.”

 “They’re on the wrong track. Only you can save Angela.”

 “How? Any evidence I could use is in her apartment, and I can’t break back in.” Harvey paused. “Unless…you’re the evidence?”

 “In a sense. You just need to keep me safe, for just a short while. Then, everything will be revealed to you.”

 Everything revealed. As much as this situation had terrified Harvey, the idea was appealing to him. His whole life had been spent in mediocrity, waiting for some kind of meaning. He’d be a hero, and he liked that.

 However, one more thing bothered him. “You…you weren’t left here by the killer, right? I mean, it’s fine if you were, but you’re not some kind of trick to mislead me, right?” Harvey suddenly felt a little silly about asking a box whether it was manipulating him.

 The voice was silent for a few moments, but it eventually answered. “I work for no one. I only wish to see this case closed, and you to play a part in that.”

 “Ok.” Harvey said, uncertainty still clinging to his voice. Eventually, he was able to drift off to a restless sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harvey clumsily spooned cereal into his mouth with one hand as he buttoned his shirt with the other. “Ugh…come on, come on, I’m going to be late!”

 The excitement of last night and his voice-induced insomnia had left him tired enough to sleep through his alarm. His shift began in only thirty minutes, so he had to move quickly.

 “You really should stay, you know.” 

 Harvey glared towards his bedroom. “In case you forgot, I have a job. It’ll be fine. The doors and windows will be locked.”

 “Angela’s were too. There are people who will go to any length to stop you. Just take a few days off work.”

 Harvey sighed. The box was making sense. He could easily picture a sinister figure, clad in black, smashing their way through his window, or picking his door’s lock. Wandering around his apartment, taking the box, maybe waiting for him to return to clean up all the evidence…

 He shook his head. “Paranoia won’t get us anywhere. Anyway, you can get rid of those stakes if you just tell me what I need to know.”

 “That will happen in its own time, Harvey.”

 Harvey finished getting ready and left without another word.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harry- no, wait, Harvey- rushed past Cass. Poor guy looked to be late for something. Oh, well. Cass had no time to worry about that, she was on the clock. She entered Angela’s apartment, to see Officer Wrigley and some other cops were already there.

 “Detective Achebe, ma’am.” Wrigley nodded. “Ready for a closer examination?”

 “Of course.”

 For the next hour they searched the apartment, checking for fingerprints on every surface, looking for any sign of a struggle, but were unable to find anything. Wrigley scratched his head. “Ever seen a case with so little to go off of?”

 “Admittedly, no.” Cass steeled herself. “But no criminal is perfect. They all make mistakes. We’ll find one.”

 She pointed to the window. “I know some people already checked there, but maybe we should look again. It’s clearly the point of the break in.”

 “Hey, go nuts. At this point we should try anything.”

 Cass checked for fingerprints around the sill, but was unable to find anything. She noticed reddish stains on the glass. “Did you see this?”

 Wrigley looked and nodded. “Blood, belonging to the victim. Pretty much confirms she was kidnapped, but nothing we didn’t suspect.”

 Cass looked down, disappointed. Then, she noticed something.

 “There’s no glass on the floor.” She pointed out. “Were the shards cleaned up?”

 “They were, but there wasn’t very much. Like only a little glass had fallen inside or something.”

 “Hmm.” Cass looked out the window, but saw nothing in the alley below but a blanket of snow.

 But maybe under the snow…

 “Officer, can you follow me?”

 The pair rode the elevator down and made their way to the alley, the cold biting into them as they walked. Cass tracked the broken window’s column downward, and determined the spot right below it. She kneeled down, and began digging through the snow.

 “Come on, Officer. Help me with this.”

 “I didn’t bring gloves! You’ve got mittens…maybe I could just keep watch?” He suggested sheepishly.

 Cass rolled her eyes as she continued her excavation. Finally, she felt something else within the snow: shards of glass.

 She carefully pulled one out. It was covered in frost, and was stained in blood like the window above.

 “You know what this means, right?” Cass asked, as she studied the shard closely.

 Officer Wrigley thought for a moment. “If the glass fell out here, it must have been broken from the inside. But that still doesn’t explain why Angela’s blood is on the shards.”

 “I have some theories.” Cass stood. “But I’m not collecting all this evidence alone. Find some cops who came prepared, Mr Naked Hands.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 BANG!

 Harvey flinched. He knew it was just a bowling ball knocking down pins, but it was all too easy to imagine a masked gunman trying to take him out for knowing too much.

It had been a few days since Harvey had discovered the box, and his paranoia had only grown. He still resisted the box’s calls for him to keep a constant watch, but it was getting harder to drag himself to Lucky Rabbit Bowling Alley for his shift. Every person who walked up to rent bowling shoes forced him to ask the question: Could this be the kidnapper? Is Angela locked up in their basement, struggling against restraints, or buried in their backyard?

 Clearly, his coworker friends had started to take notice. “Dude.” Paul said as they sprayed some used shoes down. “You ok? You’ve been kinda…out of it lately.”

 “I’m fine.” Harvey muttered, not meeting his gaze. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

 Stella, his other coworker, frowned. “You’re always a little tired. This is different. Come on, Harvey, you can tell us.”

 Harvey looked away from her too- but not because of his worries. He didn’t want her to see him blushing.

 Harvey had had feelings for Stella as long as he’d known her. She was beautiful, smart, funny…but no way she felt the same way about him.

 Either way, Harvey was growing tired of secrets, so he decided to let a little slip. “Actually…my neighbor disappeared. Last I heard, the police suspect foul play.”

 Stella gasped. “Oh my god, that’s horrible.”

 “Yeah.” Harvey stared down the shoes lined up on the counter. “I’m next door. I should have heard something happen, or seen someone suspicious…”

 “Don’t say that.” Paul said sympathetically. “Look, what happened happened. The cops are on it now, it’s their responsibility. At this point, what more can you do?”

 An answer weaseled its way into Harvey’s mind. You could protect me. Make sure the one thing that could save Angela is safe until the time is right. But no, renting out shoes in a bowling alley is far more important.

 The words rang true. Harvey had been neglecting his duties. Fate had put the box into his hands, he was its steward. His meaningless job could not be allowed to distract him any longer.

 Harvey walked out of the counter area. His coworkers quickly took notice. “Hey, Harvey.” Stella called out. “Where are you going, lunch break isn’t for another half an hour.”

 He only looked back once as he left the building. “There’s something I need to attend to. Be back soon.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harvey was getting tired of pizza. But what choice did he really have? In the time it would take him to cook a decent meal or go out to dinner, the kidnapper could easily slip into his room and snatch the box. It felt like he was pushing his luck just going to his door to pick up his order.

 Most of the past week had been spent in his bedroom, keeping a close watch on the box. He read books, watched TV, and, as he was doing right now, ate pizza. Still, he remained alert.

 As he had a few times before, he interrogated the box. “This is getting tiresome. I’m running out of vacation days. Just tell me what I need to know to save Angela.”

 “You’d have more days if you hadn’t gone to visit your family last June. And what does keeping a job matter if a life is at stake? I promise, it won’t be much longer.”

 Harvey was irritated, but couldn’t disagree. He finished off the slice he’d been munching on and tossed the empty pizza box onto the growing stack in the corner.

 “Think I’m gonna try to get to bed early tonight.” Harvey could already sense the box’s response. “Yes, I’ll check the alarms on the windows.”

  Harvey scanned over them quickly. They all seemed to be in working order…

 Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Harvey froze. The only people who had come to his door recently were the pizza delivery guys, and he hadn’t ordered anything else…so who could it be?

 Harvey slowly approached the door. He made sure to grab the metal baseball bat he’d leaned against the wall, just in case…

 In one swift movement, Harvey opened the door, just wide enough that he could easily whack any kidnappers. To his surprise, the person behind the door wasn’t a masked stranger- or even a stranger at all. It was Stella.

 Harvey gasped. “Stella! Wha- what are you doing here? How’d you even know I live here?!” He quickly set the bat out of sight. Stella hadn’t seen it, but she could clearly see the tiredness and paranoia on his face.

 She played with the zipper on her coat. “Paul told me. He would have come himself, but he had a rough day. He’s taking on a lot of your duties, y’know.”

 Harvey opened the door wide enough to let her in as he sighed. “I…I know. I’m sorry I had to leave on such short notice, but it’s urgent.”

 Stella marched in and hung her coat on the rack. “What’s urgent? Harvey, are you getting mixed up in that missing person’s case you were talking about?”

 Harvey hesitated. He didn’t want to involve Stella in what was going on, but at this point he just wanted someone else to know. Someone who understood his responsibility.

 “Look, Stella. Please, just follow me. There’s something I want to show you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Stella reached out to caress the lid.

 “Don’t.” Harvey gently grabbed her hand. “If the police find out I took this, I don’t want your fingerprints on it.”

 “Oh, yeah. That’s what got you into this mess, isn’t it?” Stella collapsed on the bed, her face in her hands. “I still can’t believe you broke into someone’s apartment.”

 “Just to confirm my suspicions. Anyway, I don’t think of this situation as a mess. It’s an opportunity to do something good.”

 “I guess.” Stella admitted. “But what’s happened to you recently? You’ve never been a paranoid person. And why not just open the box? If you think this is key evidence, then go all the way.”

 “Look…it’s all for a reason. Trust me.” Harvey had elected to leave out the part about the box talking to him.

 “Ok, ok. I trust you, really.” Stella said, sitting back up. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s cool you want to help out.”

 “Thanks.” Harvey replied. “And…thank you for visiting me, and listening to me. It’s nice, not being completely alone in this.”

 Harvey had never understood why, but he’d never been able to read Stella like he could other people. Perhaps she just kept her feelings close to her chest. But right then, for just a moment, he saw her blush slightly.

 Stella responded, hesitantly. “Like I said, these last few days have kind of sucked. That’s partially because you’re not there to work, but it’s also because you weren't there to talk to. I…I like being with you, Harvey.”

 “Oh.” Harvey was frozen for a moment. “I like being with you too. You and Paul make my job pretty fun…but you especially.”

 He took a deep breath before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about stuff, too. Just being wrapped in something like this…something dangerous…if something happens to me, I don’t want to regret something. Stella…I love you.”

 There was a second’s silence that seemed to last a century. Eventually, Stella responded.

 “Wow…Harvey…I never knew.”

 “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same!” Harvey blurted. “I just wanted to get that off my chest.”

 “No, no! I do feel the same! It’s just I only realized I did when you were gone.”

 Harvey was stunned. He’d never seen this coming, never seen a world where someone could love him. Once again, the status quo was shattered- but he liked it this time.

 The couple spent the rest of the evening adjusting to each other, to the new normal. Eventually they grew comfortable with each other, closer than they’d ever been.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Cass trudged into the station, finishing her coffee. It had been a long night, trying to fit barely existent pieces into an enormous puzzle. It didn’t help that she had to come in so early, but this had already been put off enough. Angela’s boyfriend was finally back in town, and he was the only lead left they hadn’t explored.

 Officer Wrigley was there waiting for her. “Morning, Detective. Mr Holland is in there waiting for you.”

 Cass opened the door to the interrogation room to see a nervous man with a week’s worth of stubble staring down at the table. He looked up when he saw her enter.

 “Mrs Achebe, ma’am, hi. I’m Joe Holland, Angela’s boyfriend. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I was dealing with some family stuff.”

 “It’s ok. And please, just call me Cass.” She pulled out a greasy paper bag as she sat down. “Accidentally bought an extra donut, you want it?”

 Joe sighed. “No need to play good cop, I’ll tell you everything.”

 “Alright.” Cass grabbed her notepad. “What do you know?”

 “So I heard you already know Angela had a friend who went missing.”

 “Right. Patricia Adams.”

 “Yeah. But, from what Angela told me, Patricia had a brother who went missing shortly before she did.”

 This was news to Cass. Had this chain of kidnappings gone further back than she’d suspected?

 Joe continued. “According to Angela, Patricia started acting very strange and paranoid, even claiming that she could solve the mystery. Thing is, after she went missing, Angela started to act the same way.”

 “What?” Cass raised an eyebrow. “Why would she do that?”

 “After a few days of her being like that, she showed me this…box. It’s just this weird metal crate. She said Patricia had shown it to her, claiming it had something to do with her brother’s disappearance. When she went over to Patricia’s house and found her missing, the box was still there. She took it and said she understood Patricia now. This box was the key to solving everything.”

 Cass raised an eyebrow. “The crime scene has been searched thoroughly. No box like you described was discovered.”

 Joe froze. “No…that’s impossible. It has to be there. Unless…she was right? The box really is important, and the kidnapper took it?”

 “It’s…possible.” Cass mused. “But you described the box as rather large, right? Could someone really carry both Angela and the box?”

 “Unlikely.” Joe admitted. “But nothing else makes sense. How could it just disappear?”

 Cass chewed on her pen. For the first time, in all her cases, she was stumped. What could she do?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Harvey awoke. He smiled before he even opened his eyes, reflecting on last night’s events. Was Stella his girlfriend, officially? He wasn’t exactly sure how these things worked.

 She wasn’t next to him in the bed, but he heard movement down the hall. Probably just grabbing something to eat.

 He was suddenly reminded he should check under the bed, for the box. As opposed to the times before, he did so calmly, without fear of the box’s absence.

 But its absence he discovered.

 Harvey stumbled backwards, in total shock. He knew he’d slid the box back under last night, he was certain!

 He ran out, running into the living room. Stella sat there upon the couch, sipping a mug of coffee.

 She saw the panic in his eyes before he spoke a word. “Harvey, what’s wrong?”

 “The…the box! It’s gone!”

 “What?!” Stella stood up. “But…how? We slept right over it all night! You have alarms on every window.”

 “It just seems impossible! No one could break in…”

 Suddenly, a thought struck Harvey. It felt wrong even to think it, but the more he did, the more it seemed true.

 “Stella.” Harvey said cautiously. “Did you do something with it?”

 “What?” Stella was taken aback. “No, of course not.”

 Harvey took a few steps, closer to the front door. “You knew where it was. I showed you. Then, the next day…it’s gone. You don’t think that’s a little strange?”

 “Are you accusing me of…what, working with a kidnapper? Being a kidnapper? Harvey, we’ve known each other for years.”

 “Maybe they’re paying you because you’re close to me.” Harvey gasped. “Yes, that’s it!”

 He smacked his forehead. “How stupid could I be? Of course you don’t love me, it was all an act!”

 The words hurt to say, but he knew they were true. Harvey had let the wrong person in, and it had cost him everything.

 Tears began to form in Stella’s eyes. “How could you say that? Nothing last night was fake. Harvey, this is turning into an obsession. It’s causing you to do things you wouldn’t do otherwise!”

 Harvey steeled himself as he took one last step towards the door. “You’re right, Stella. I’m usually too weak to do what needs to be done. But not this time.” Then, he grabbed the bat he’d tossed aside near the entrance, and gripped it tightly. “Tell. Me. Where. It. Is. Now.”

 Stella was silent. Then, she ran for the door.

 Harvey could take her out. He knew it. He prepared for one good swing…

 But couldn’t force his arms into motion. They remained frozen with cowardice.

 She dashed out of his apartment, and slammed the door behind her. She didn’t break her sprint until she clambered into the elevator.

 Harvey fell to his knees. A part of him felt horrified about what he’d almost done, and what he’d said. However, a far greater part mourned his foolishness. His naivety had lost him his one chance to solve the mystery. He’d failed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Hours passed, Harvey still distraught in front of the door. He didn’t know what to do now. It was as if his whole life had been building up to this week, this one period of true purpose, and he’d fumbled the ball.

 However, just before his despair fully consumed him, he heard a voice.

 Hello, Harvey. 

 Harvey gasped. “Y-you! You can still talk to me!”

 Of course. Our fates are intertwined. 

 Guilt overcame him. “Stella…Stella took you, didn’t she?”

 Yes. I don’t wish to say I told you so, but…

 “I swear!” Harvey stood. “I’ll never doubt you again!”

 Good. Because it’s time, Harvey. Time for the truth.

 He froze. “Wait, really? Then what are you waiting for, tell me!”

 I cannot tell you in a way you’d understand. I have to show you. Which means, you have to find me.

 “But I don’t know what Stella did with you.”

 In that, I can guide your path. But, you must leave now.

 “Right.” Harvey grabbed his jacket off the rack, stepped into his winter boots, and took a step towards the door.

 Don’t! The voice screamed. Don’t you hear them coming?

 Confused, Harvey stopped to listen. He swore he heard something from the echoey stairwell, climbing up to his floor…and the elevator rising…

 Harvey understood. “They’re already here. I can’t go out this way.”

 He swiveled his head, looking for an answer. He spotted it- the window.

 Escape by any means necessary! Break it!

 Harvey dashed over and deactivated the alarm. He looked for something heavy to smash the glass with, but nothing was within reach. He knew he only had precious seconds, and acted drastically.

 Harvey began punching the glass, cracks spreading over the frosted pane. Tiny pieces began to embed in his knuckles, causing them to bleed. He even saw larger shards of glass, stained in blood, falling into the snow below, but he didn’t care. Escaping, and solving the mystery, was all that mattered.

 Finally, with a SMASH!, the window gave way. As carefully as possible, he slipped out onto the narrow ledge. He braced himself against the building, steadying his bloody raw hands against the brick wall. Slowly he inched, closer and closer to the fire escape- ironic, he thought, that he would evade the kidnapper using the very structure they’d use to reach Angela’s apartment.

 Eventually he gripped the railing, the cold metal soothing his injuries. As he climbed down, images beamed into his head- directions, to the box’s location and the mystery’s solution.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 His journey lasted longer than he’d expected- half a day of walking. Maybe it would have been faster if he’d taken a bus, but the voice had advised him that one of the kidnapper’s accomplices might see him (It felt so odd, knowing so many people were against you). The walk wasn’t pleasant, seeing as he only had a pair of pajamas under his jacket. But the biting wind wasn’t enough to keep him from his goal.

 When he reached the snow-covered forest, he knew he was close. When he found an old road winding through, he knew he was closer. And when he saw the dilapidated old house, he knew he had made it.

 It was incredibly rundown. Parts of the roof had collapsed, leaving gaping holes that were visible from the ground. The windows were all boarded up, though the boards had begun to soften and rot. Most importantly, the door was wide open, barely hanging on to its hinges.

 After one last look over his shoulder, Harvey walked inside. Indoors wasn’t much nicer- snow had piled up in every room, and he could even see what looked like the remnants of small plants that had sprouted from exposed dirt when the weather was nicer. The carpet even had stains that looked like oil and a rusty red substance. Harvey didn’t want to linger on what it was, and he didn’t have to. He could hear the voice calling for him to ascend the nearby staircase, up to the attic. His final destination.

 Just down the hall from the top of the stairs he saw a ladder, which led up through a trapdoor. Rung by rung he climbed, until he set foot on the creaking wood floor. He’d made it.

 The first thing Harvey noticed was the smell. It was awful- like something had died here. But he could barely notice that, because on the ground, just a few feet away, laid his box.

 He couldn’t contain his joy. “I made it!” Harvey ran towards the box, lovingly caressing its metal surface. “Thank you, for guiding me.” He weeped gratefully.

 And thank you for following. Now, it’s time for the truth.

 There was a small click, and the box’s lid suddenly flew open. For the first time, Harvey looked inside- and saw only darkness.

 “I can’t see anything.” Harvey admitted.

 Of course not. One final step, Harvey. Climb inside, brave the dark, and I will show you everything.

 One week ago, Harvey would have been startled at that request. What purpose could that possibly serve, to solve the mystery? However, he now knew not to doubt the voice. With little hesitation, he climbed into the box. It was roomier than it looked, though barely big enough for him. He curled up into a fetal position, unsure of what else to do.

 Suddenly the lid slammed shut, and Harvey was trapped in darkness. He heard two small clicks from outside- the padlocks closing. He tried to move around, but the box was sealed tight. He knew at that moment there was no escape.

 But he wasn’t afraid. This felt…right. This was where he was supposed to be.

 Time flowed by at an imperceptible rate. Harvey was uncertain of how long he’d been inside. What he did know was that it was getting harder to breathe, his limited supply of air getting thinner. He began to feel light-headed, and could barely keep his eyes open.

 At that moment the voice spoke one last time. It gave him an answer.

 Once upon a time there was a man who had many things. A place to call home, a job he liked just fine, and people he could call friends. But it wasn’t enough for him. He desired meaning, something above what the world would give him. One day, he stumbled upon something special, unique. A spark, in an empty world. A legacy waiting to happen.

 Others tried to hold him back, drag him back into mediocrity. They claimed he was losing himself, all to chase an unattainable goal. But the man refused to give in. Even as they callously left him, the man kept pursuing his spark. Eventually, his pursuit led him to a dark place, a place he couldn’t leave. He never fully understood his spark, but he walked its path. So even as the rot crept in, he endured, content with what he found at the end.

 I am the pursuit. The ruined legacy the man left in his wake. We all are. And now, you are too.

 Harvey smiled. That was the last thing he did before he blacked out.

 The box remained in the attic, though in a slightly different place. It retreated into the shadows, out of sight of anyone who entered. It set itself at the base of a pile of identical boxes. Each was filled to the brim with a rotting corpse, though the oldest were nothing more than bones. And each and every one wore a smile on their face, satisfied to have fulfilled their purpose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Stella knew this wasn’t right. Harvey wasn’t quite…stable, right now. But she was growing worried. He wasn’t answering her texts, and she wanted to check on him. So she’d come back to his apartment.

 She knocked on his door, but there was no answer. Hesitantly, she tested the doorknob, to find it unlocked.

 The moment she entered, she knew something was wrong. It was freezing, and she realized his window had been smashed open.

 “Oh, God.” she muttered. “Was…he right? Someone was out to get him?”

 Stella stumbled back, the weight of her discovery fully hitting her. She looked around the apartment, trying to find something, anything that would help her make sense of this new, terrifying reality-

 Kenny decides to stand up for what’s right, and prevent potential tragedy, unaware he’s confronting someone who doesn’t take well to broken agreements…

 Digging through scrap, looking for a miracle. How had Kenny’s life come to this?

 The last few years had been spent going from job to job, which there was ultimately little variety of in Breaker’s Ridge. Fast food joints, gas stations, dollar stores- pretty much every unimaginably unfulfilling place that teens worked at in town, a grown up Kenny had held a position.

 What was his dream job? Probably not one most forty year old men would fantasize about- running a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

 Fazbear Entertainment had closed down most of its locations about five years after Kenny had been born, and he’d never been to one. But that didn't matter. It was the dawn of the internet, and a young Kenny could easily find pictures and videos of the animatronic performers. That was what had really intrigued him- not the pizza, arcades, or anything else. No, these four characters- Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy- had enthralled his robot-loving mind. Back then that meant robots from movies, but as he grew older he became more interested in robotics itself. He joined every club, took every class, and designed basic but impressive robots on his own time. It was his passion, and Freddy’s had started it.

 When the news broke that Fazbear Entertainment was undergoing a revival, and they would be opening dozens of new franchise restaurants around the country, Kenny was ecstatic. If he became a franchisee, then he would be given the chance to work with some of the most advanced animatronic models in the world! And hey, owning your own business is pretty good when you have a wife, a teenage daughter, and a young son.

 Alas, it wasn’t that simple. Fazbear Entertainment quickly responded to his message, declining his request. Their reasons were simple- Breaker’s Ridge was in the middle of nowhere. Why open a restaurant there when other towns had higher populations and tourism rates?

 Kenny didn’t give up, though. He sent application after application, each with some kind of proof that this franchise could succeed. He argued the town’s population was growing, that it wasn’t nearly as isolated as the company acted like it was, that even within the town alone there was a demand for more child-friendly entertainment.

 Eventually, though, it was clear. While the company was aware a location in Breaker’s Ridge would survive, they wanted their franchises to thrive. And Kenny finally accepted there was no way he could open a Freddy’s.

 But then, another idea struck him. Why not open his own original animatronic restaurant? It’s not as though this was unheard of- a similar venue called the Pizza Playground had opened a few counties over, and had proven successful enough to open a second location- so why couldn’t he do it? Heck, it’d be even better because it would truly be his own business, instead of one of many locations owned by a multimillion dollar entertainment mogul.

 The one problem was the animatronics. Kenny was simply not capable of building robots from scratch. He could maintain them, and improve them, but he at least needed some kind of base to work off of.

 It was common knowledge that Fazbear’s many closings had left dozens of animatronics orphaned. Some had been sent to other locations, but many had just been tossed in junkyards. And here Kenny was, in the company’s birthplace of Hurricane, Utah. He’d sifted through the town junkyard’s piles of rusted metal for hours, to no avail.

 The sun beat down on him, and Kenny wiped sweat from his brow. “Ugh, what was I even thinking driving out here?” he groaned. “Even if there’s something left of the old robots, it’s not gonna be enough.”

 His search had taken him on top of a large pile of metal, at least ten feet tall. Carefully, he tried to step down from it- and tripped. He slid down the structure, being scraped by the sharp metal and parts. Pieces of the pile were jostled loose, and tumbled down with him.

 “Crap…” Kenny muttered, dusting himself off. “I’m gonna need a tetanus shot or something…”

 He turned, then paused. There was something odd behind the parts that had come loose- a surprisingly clean, smooth piece of white plastic.

 Carefully, Kenny pushed more parts away. Now he could see that part was actually a jaw of some kind, lined with small sharp teeth.

 “An animatronic!” Kenny cheered. “Or, at least, part of one…”

 He got to work clearing away the scrap with his shovel, praying there was something in here he could use. As he did, he began to notice more plastic body parts, in different colors. A top hat on a brown head, a light blue bunny ear, a yellow arm, a large brown shoe… His excitement grew more and more the more he uncovered, and he began to realize he hadn’t just stumbled upon a smorgasbord of discarded parts- this was a group of five, fully formed animatronics.

 The original members of the band- Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy- were all represented, as well as a fifth that resembled a chubby child in a striped shirt. They didn’t look like any he’d seen though. All of their designs brought dolls to mind, with red circles of blush, big colorful eyes, and wiry eyelashes, not to mention their plastic material. The biggest divergence was Foxy, in two ways- the robot was colored white and pink, contrasting the classic’s red color, but it also differed from its buried brethren in that it was badly damaged, a mess of parts haphazardly stuck together and missing its shell.

 Still, none of this strangeness bothered Kenny. In fact, he was ecstatic- these robots were almost completely intact. As he hauled them out of the yard, he came upon an intriguing possibility- he shouldn’t even need to change them. Why not brand his place as if it was a real Freddy’s? He had the characters, and he’d enjoy giving the middle finger to the greedy megacorporation by using their name.

 “Freddy’s Pizza Parlor.” He pondered, loading the last robot in his truck. “Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.”

 Kenny climbed into his car, and prepared for the drive home.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Dreams are funny things.

 They are picturesque, beautiful, and untarnished. People may be capable of recognizing likely setbacks and negatives, but usually ignore them. The dream must be preserved as a panacea for satisfaction in life.

 That being said, sometimes when working towards a dream obstacles will emerge beyond anything anyone could have suspected. A natural disaster tearing down a business, cultural trends evaporating overnight- or killer animatronics.

 Kenny sat up in his hospital bed as the nurse spoke. “Alright, Mr McIntyre, you’ve made a full recovery. Your stitches are looking good, and there’s been no severe head trauma. You can go home once some paperwork is complete.”

 Kenny nodded. “Thanks. Could you just…give me a minute? I need to think.”

 The nurse left his room. Kenny contemplated the events of the last year. How could his dream become a nightmare so quickly? His Pizza Parlor wasn’t known as a place of joy- it was known for ripped-out hearts, chest-bursting cupcake creatures, and now amalgamations of corpses.

 He knew that last very well. After the Mangle had hid backstage, its creation had attacked him, biting into his skull. If he hadn’t called the police to report the break-in, it would have finished the job.

 Kenny had no idea what had happened to the flesh Mangle- the robot had been located, but the creature had escaped with no trace. For the sake of the teen couple who made up its meaty mass, Kenny hoped it would be found and destroyed soon.

 Mangle had been forced into the backroom, along with Chica and Balloon Boy, where they remained a week later. Freddy and Bonnie, meanwhile, had been smashed to pieces by those intruding teenagers. The nightmare was over, and what did Kenny have to show for it? A horrible reputation and the blood of eight people on his hands.

 He should have known the penny-pinching Fazbear Entertainment wouldn’t abandon  animatronics for no reason. Even apart from that, there was the strange behavior he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fix, and ultimately couldn’t bring himself to delay the restaurant’s opening for.

 Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. Kenny picked it up, expecting a call from his wife. However, the Caller ID read Miss Anderson: Fazbear Entertainment Representative.

 Kenny cursed. Right! Miss Anderson had been sent by the company to pick up the animatronics when he signed up for the Rejuvenation Initiative. Their planned meeting had been a day ago, but he’d been a little preoccupied recovering from a robot bite.

 Quickly he answered. “Miss Anderson, hi. I’m sorry about missing our meeting.”

 “It’s fine, Mr McIntyre.” She responded. “I’m well aware of your injury and hospital stay.”

 “Oh…yeah.” Kenny said sheepishly. “Then you’ve probably heard about how the situation’s changed. Of the three animatronics you came for, two have been smashed to pieces and one has shown hostile behavior. Very hostile behavior.”

 “I’ve heard that as well. We’re still interested in purchasing the destroyed Freddy and Bonnie- their parts will still be useful.”

 “Glad to hear it.” Kenny nodded to himself, assuming that would be the end of it.

 “However, the company also would like the Foxy, Chica, and Balloon Boy as well.”

 Kenny gasped. “What?! But, Miss Anderson, there’s something wrong with them. They- they’ve killed people!”

 “As with the destroyed models, the intact ones will be broken down and used for parts. Their mental processors will be scrapped.”

 “It's not just that they’re malfunctioning!” Kenny yelled desperately. “I know that sounds crazy, but I’ve seen what they're capable of.”

 There was a pause. “If you truly feel that way, Mr McIntyre, that’s your call. I should say the damaged models are not worth as much as the intact ones, so this would hardly be the most profitable decision. Regardless, the company needs you at the restaurant tomorrow to sign some paperwork, so you must decide by then.”

 The call ended abruptly.

 Kenny put his head in his hands. Every part of him wanted to turn down the offer, but at this point he had nothing. His business was deader than dead, and his reputation was tanked. The only path forward he had seen for him and his family was starting fresh with the money from this deal. It didn’t help that he was getting an increasingly nagging feeling that Bonnie and Freddy were no safer, that they had merely not been given the chance to show their true colors.

 Perhaps Miss Anderson was right, and Kenny was exaggerating the danger. But he doubted it.

 “What am I supposed to do?” He muttered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Daddy!”

 “Dad!”

 “Ken!”

 Kenny’s family crowded around him as he walked through the door. He smiled; as much pressure as there was on him, it was nice to be back home.

 His young son Finn and teen daughter Evelyn both hugged him tightly, and his wife Sadie pecked him on the cheek. “Glad you’re feeling better, honey.” the latter said affectionately.

 “Yep, pretty much all good now.” Kenny said. “And I have even better news. The company is willing to purchase all the animatronics!”

 On his way home, he’d decided to take the deal. Whatever happened with them in the future would be the company’s problem.

 Kenny expected his family to be excited, or somewhat confused (he certainly was). Instead, they all grew silent, and backed away from him.

 “Dad…you mean even the ones that did those…things?” Evelyn asked.

 “The boy one? The chicken? The fox that bit you?” Finn stammered, sounding scared.

 “Ken, honey, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Sadie reasoned. “Fazbear Entertainment doesn’t care enough to make sure the animatronics don’t hurt more people.”

  These were all things Kenny was bothered by even now, but hearing them spoken aloud by others made him defensive. “Look, everyone. It’s fine. Now can we all just relax?”

 His tone rang more harsh then he meant it to, and his family flinched. They nodded, clearly not convinced that everything was in fact fine.

 “Ok. I’m still kind of tired, so I’m heading up to my room.” Kenny said, attempting to end the conversation. He walked up the stairs without another word.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Kenny laid, alone on his bed, watching the evening news. He immersed himself in the reports of disasters and violence, ignoring the suspicion his robots would cause just that in the company’s hands.

 There was a small knock at his door. “Come in.” Kenny answered.

 Finn sheepishly walked inside.

 “Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”

 “Not…great.” he whispered. “Daddy, I don’t want you to sell the robots. I want them to be gone.”

 Kenny paused the show and sighed. “Look, Finn, I get it. You’ve been scared of the animatronics ever since I first got them. But-”

 “Not quite.”

 Kenny frowned. “What do you mean? I asked you if you wanted to see them once they’d been cleaned up and you said no.”

 Finn sighed. “Daddy, I know you said we couldn’t go in your workshop alone, but I really wanted to see them, and I couldn’t wait for you to give me permission. One day, you left the door open, and I snuck inside.”

 “What?!” Kenny exclaimed. “Finn, that place is dangerous. Tools, machinery…”

 “The boy robot scratched me.”

 There was silence. 

 “When I got close its hands grew claws. It laughed, and attacked me. I got away, but I had a big cut.”

 “Wait,” Kenny stammered. “That day we needed to take you to the ER for stitches?! You said you scratched yourself on a sharp tree branch!” All of this was hitting Kenny like a truck. Perhaps it represented some selfishness on his part, considering all who had suffered at the hands of the robots, but knowing even his own family hadn’t been spared was a shock to the system.

 “I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you the truth.”

 “I guess not.” Kenny admitted. “But why not tell me after what happened…to Tim? I would believe you then.”

 “I was going to. But then I started to think you wouldn’t care.”

 Kenny was taken aback. He walked over to Finn, kneeled down, and looked him in the eyes.

 “What gave you that idea, kiddo?”

 “It seems you cared more about the robots than the people they hurt. It took that horrible birthday for you to shut down Freddy’s, and even after one hurt you you’re ok with them being sold.”

 “Finn, this deal is for our family.”

 “None of us want it.”

  Finn averted his eyes, clearly expecting some kind of reprimand. But his words had rung true. Tears began welling up in Kenny’s eyes, and he spoke.

  “I’m so sorry, Finn. I never meant to make you feel like I cared more about my dreams or money than what this family wanted.”

 He hugged his son tightly and continued. “Tomorrow, I’ll meet up with the Fazbear Entertainment representative. And I’ll tell her the deal is off.”

 Finn sighed, clearly relieved. “And the robots?”

 “First chance I get I’ll smash them all to pieces and dump them in a ditch. And don’t worry, bud. I’ll figure out something for this family.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Arcade! Duh!” Kenny groaned. He’d slap his forehead if he wasn’t driving. “I still have all the cabinets, I can just start an arcade a few cities over!”

 He was somewhat embarrassed it took him this long to think of this incredibly simple solution, but oh well. He’d start work on that later. For now, it was time to break off a deal.

 Kenny pulled the car into his building’s lot and stepped out, enjoying the morning sun as it hit his face.

 There were two other vehicles in the lot- a large box truck emblazoned with a cheery Fazbear Entertainment logo, and a cherry-red sports car. A blonde woman in a suit leaned against it, checking her phone, which she put away upon noticing Kenny.

 “Mr McIntyre! We’ve never met in person before, I’m Miss Anderson.”

 “Pleasure.” Kenny said, shaking her hand.

 “So, I have the paperwork in the car, you just need to…”

 “Actually, I have some bad news.” Kenny felt somewhat guilty- he was sure some higher-up would be yelling at her soon enough. “While I appreciate the offers you’ve made, I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel comfortable selling these robots. You haven’t witnessed what they’re truly capable of, so I don’t expect you to understand, but the deal is off.”

 Miss Anderson’s expression was blank- eerily so. “Mr McIntyre, the company is willing to pay an exorbitant amount for these models. Between you and me, I have no problem if you want to to drive up the price-”

 “No.” Kenny grunted firmly. “I don’t care if you pay a million bucks a pop- I’m not selling them. I’m destroying them. Sorry for wasting your time, Miss Anderson.”

 She suddenly grabbed him by the wrist, holding a little too tightly. “There’s nothing we can do to convince you?” She asked.

 Her tone felt threatening to Kenny. Now that Kenny thought about it, why was the company so desperate? The new generation of animatronics they were making- the SparkleRocks or something- were infinitely more advanced than his had ever been. No matter what way he sliced it, he couldn’t think of a reason for Fazbear to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for robots, especially murderous ones…

 Unless that was exactly why they wanted them.

 This shook Kenny to his core. It seemed impossible, but if it was true…

 “No! Nothing!” Kenny yelled, trying to free his hand.

 “Hm.” Miss Anderson used her other hand to tap her breast pocket.

 Suddenly, a high-pitched ringing assaulted Kenny’s ears. Miss Anderson released him, but he couldn’t escape. The sound brought him to his knees, then to his side.

 Then to unconsciousness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Kenny awoke.

 He was outside, but it was dark, and dusty. The ground was coarse and rough beneath him.

 Kenny was startled by the realization: he was in a desert. This hardly narrowed it down- this was Utah after all- but how had he gotten here?

 Then, he finally noticed Miss Anderson, standing over him.

 “You!” he said venomously.

 “Yes, me.” Without another word, she aimed a pistol at him.

 “Wait, wait! Don’t!” Kenny tried to scurry away, but his body still felt weak and useless.

 Miss Anderson sighed. “That frequency was supposed to keep you under for a little longer. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

 “You kidnapped me…and I bet you stole the animatronics! Didn’t you?”

 “It didn’t have to be this way. We were quite generous; you forced our hand.”

 “My family knows where I was, what I was doing.”

 “The words of one small-town family of nobodies won’t do much against Fazbear Entertainment’s whole legal team. We’ve covered up worse.” She wrapped her finger around the trigger.

 Kenny made one last attempt to bide for time. “Look…why do you want the robots? If these things are worth killing for, at least tell me why.”

 She hesitated, but eventually spoke. “I honestly can’t. You stumbled into the middle of something far greater than yourself. There’s really nothing else I can say. Goodbye, Mr McIntyre.”

 And ear-shattering bangs filled Kenny’s ears. He felt a jolt of pain in his stomach, then nothing except a hot wetness. He felt around the area, and his hand came away coated in sticky blood.

 Kenny fell to the ground again, but this time knew he wouldn’t awake.

 “Finn…Evelyn…Sadie…I’m sorry…”

 The last of his energy drained away, and Kenny was consumed by darkness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You performed your part adequately.

 Thank you.

 The animatronics are secured?

 Yes.

 Transport them to ground zero for extraction.

 I will.

 This is merely a prelude. The real show is beginning soon. Are you ready?

Chapter 1: The Library Car

Pages 1-7

9 Years Ago

 Jared Montgomery knew his eleventh birthday party would be great. His parents were throwing him a party at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza- in his eyes, they might as well have booked a venue in heaven. He loved the place- though only this location.

 That may sound strange to say, but it was true. In all honesty he had no interest in the dancing bears, bunnies, birds, or any other weird robots these restaurants had. He found them creepy, uncanny. The food wasn’t the draw, either- Jared had always felt the pizza was only marginally more tasty than the box it came in. No, what made him love Freddy Fazbear’s was the arcade. And what made this location his favorite were his high scores.

 The letters JRD could be seen flashing in the high scores on every cabinet’s screen. Combat Kids, Zany Sword, Mangle’s Quest- you name it, he’d mastered them all.

 Well, almost all…

 As soon as he passed through the doors, he heard it. The cheesy western music and squeaking mechanical parts.

 Jared caught sight of the large platform. The outside was lined with a fence, each corner topped with a plastic cattle skull. The platform itself was surrounded by inflatable cactuses and encouraging-looking cutouts of the Fazbear gang dressed like cowboys. And, at the platform’s center, bounding back and forth, was Jared’s nemesis: The Bucking Bull.

 It was a fearsome foe. Two quarters was all it took to get it moving, but Jared had easily sunk forty dollars into trying to get the high score. Obviously most bucking rides like this didn’t have any such thing, but this one was different. There was a sensor in the saddle that tracked how long you could stay on, which transmitted the times to a screen hanging above the game. Jared was on the board- number four- which would be enough for most people, but not him.

 But today, Jared had a good feeling. The high score was 2 minutes and 49 seconds, which he ultimately felt he could beat. And that high score would be the sweetest present of all.

 He warmed up with a few rounds of Air Hockey with some of his friends- Sally, Benjamin, and Jacob. The first two were no problem, but Jacob presented a challenge. Jared didn’t mind- he liked a challenge (It helped that he won, best two out of three). Jacob had always been the best at these games of his friends, JCB usually lingering just below JRD.

 It was Jacob who stood by his side as he approached the Bucking Bull. Jared glared at it. Its empty plastic eyes glared back, as a quick burst of steam shot out its nostrils. It felt like a Mexican standoff, with Jared almost expecting a tumbleweed to roll past. Still, the true confrontation wouldn’t begin until he mounted the ride.

 He slid the quarters into the slot, causing the gate inside to open up. An employee standing at a small booth gestured him inside.

 “Good luck.” Jacob said, smacking him on the back.

 “Thanks, but not needed.” Jared smirked. He climbed up to the platform. “This is the last time, you stupid bull.” He muttered under his breath.

 He climbed on and gave a thumbs up to the employee. They flipped a switch on their booth, and the rodeo began.

 The next few minutes were a blur- literally. Try as he might, Jared couldn’t make out any faces cheering him on, although there were many. The western music blared louder than ever, and there was a voice on the soundtrack yelling YEE-HAW! Still, he kept a firm grip on the bull, not letting up for even a moment.

 Eventually, though, he faltered, and was flung from the bull. He braced himself as he fell- less for the platform, and more for fear of failure

 Jared crashed into the inflatable platform, but didn’t either bother trying to get up. He simply listened.

 There was silence for a moment. Then, from the screen, he heard it.

 “2 MINUTES AND 58 SECONDS. WE HAVE A NEW HIGH SCORE!”

 Jared cheered, and jumped over the fence. His friends surrounded him, just as excited, congratulating him. There wasn’t any other fanfare, but Jared hardly cared. “I’m king of the arcade!” He yelled victoriously.

 The employee winced at his sudden scream. “Yeah, great job, kid.” They said unenthusiastically, rubbing their temples in irritation. “Ok, do any of you other guys want to go?”

 “Ooh, me!” Jacob crowed.

 “You sure?” Jared asked. “I’ve seen you on the bull before, you’re not that good.”

 “Why do you care? Scared I'll snatch your high score from under your nose?”

 Jared chuckled. “Just trying to save you some quarters, buddy. But have at it.”

 And Jacob did, depositing his quarters and boarding the bull. The ride began, and Jared prepared for him to be thrown off.

 He wasn’t though, which impressed Jared- an attempt longer than five seconds for Jacob was rare. Even more seconds rushed by, until Jacob had beaten his personal record of 31 seconds.

 Jared clapped. “Great job, dude! Best you’ve ever done.” He braced again, certain his friend wouldn’t last much longer. But to his shock which increased by the moment, he did. Jared would never be able to figure out what caused it- encouragement by seeing Jared’s high score ride, some elaborate rodeo training he’d undergone since his last try, or just some kind of luck. What mattered was that at this moment, Jacob was entering the top ten, and an unpleasant thought crossed Jared’s mind: “Am I gonna lose the high score?”

 It was ridiculous. The previous high score had lasted for years, surely his wouldn’t be conquered within five minutes. And yet, no matter how quickly the bull spun and bounced, Jacob’s hands clamped onto it.

 Jared had counted in his head. Only twenty seconds left and his high score would be gone.

 He knew it was stupid. He’d still have second place, and he was undefeated on every other machine in this building; why care so much about this one?

 Seventeen seconds.

 It’s just…this was one of the only things he was good at. Jared wasn’t particularly athletic, or intelligent, or innovative- his teachers would often tell him as much. If he couldn’t be the best at this, then what was he?

 Twelve seconds.

 It didn’t matter what he thought or whether it mattered, it was over. Jared stumbled backwards…and realized he was right next to the control panel. He could make out a small lever set to HARD. A few inches above it was another setting. It read NIGHTMARE.

 The ride could be made harder.

 Ten seconds.

 If Jared had thought about it even a moment longer, he would have realized how utterly stupid this was. There was an employee right there- even if he did the deed, he would be caught and get into major trouble. Definitely not worth it in the grand scheme of things. But Jared didn't have that moment. Instead, with one swift movement, he grabbed the lever and yanked it upwards.

 Seven seconds.

 The employee obviously noticed his movement, but rather than anger, horror grew on their face. Jared could hear the bull spinning faster, with scraping and squeaking from its machinery. He heard Jacob yell, startled and a little afraid.

 Four seconds.

 Jacred saw one last thing before his life changed forever. A small piece of duct tape stuck next to the NIGHTMARE setting, with a short note in permanent marker- POWER OUTPUT UNSTABLE AT THIS LEVEL- OFF LIMITS UNTIL REPAIRS.

 Two seconds.

 There was a scream, and for just a moment, Jared thought maybe everything would be ok. Surely Jacob had merely been thrown off, right?

 Jared turned to see he had, but things would hardly be ok.

 The sheer power of the bull’s buck had sent Jacob soaring, above the platform, over the fence, through the arcade-

 Until he slammed skull first into a concrete pillar nearby. There was a nightmarish cracking sound, and Jacob’s body fell to the ground, limp.

 “Jacob!” Jared screamed. He ran over to the pillar, as everyone else stared on in stunned silence.

 Jacob’s hair was matted with blood, which dribbled out of his head. Jared swore he could see cracked chunks of bone peeking through the hair as well. His skull had been seriously fractured by the impact, and Jared knew there was no hope.

 His friends tried to deny it, but Jared had always been a bit more shrewd than them. He was old enough to understand that there were some things doctors couldn’t heal you from, and this was one of those things. Jacob was declared dead as soon as EMTs arrived on the scene.

 Dead.

 Jacob was dead.

 And Jared had killed them.

 That simple fact whipped into a storm of conflict and controversy. How should he be charged? What were his intentions when he messed with the controls? There was no denying he had, the employee had caught him in the act, but his parents tried. “Our son wouldn’t do this, he’s a good boy!”, they would protest to anyone who reasoned with them. That pithy line was practically etched into his brain, as well as requests for testimony in his favor, advice for a lawsuit over the Bucking Bull’s faulty machinery, anything to shift the blame from their good boy.

 And there Jared sat, huddled up in the eye of the storm. While the adults screamed and screamed, he was left alone with the fact that Jacob was gone because of him. It hadn’t been intentional, but did that even make a difference?

 Eventually his family decided to move. They told anyone who listened they weren’t running from the accusations, they merely worried for Jared and his future. Anyone who asked Jared how he felt was met with silence and averted eyes.

 Two months after his birthday, Jared’s family left their town, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, and the Bucking Bull behind.

 But it wasn’t finished with him yet.

8 Years Ago

 His birthday had been empty.

 Not of fun, or of gifts, or of friends. No, of joy.

 Jared’s mind had finally begun to sift through his grief and guilt, and comprehend that if nothing else, feeling this broken and wrong wouldn’t bring Jacob back. He had emerged from his shell, and begun reaching out to people again. His trauma had been present, but buried, muffled.

 Now, though, it was as if every cry of “Happy Birthday” sought to uncover the self-hate and agonizing regret that dwelled below. Every smiling face he saw brought horrible thoughts to his mind: “How am I going to kill you? What selfish mistake will I make to ruin everything?”

 Eventually it was too much for him. He excused himself and locked himself in his bedroom. His parents tried to coax him out with promises of presents and cakes, but he couldn’t even begin to care about such things. He simply laid quietly on his bed, hoping they’d leave. Soon enough they did, and he drifted off into the sweet release of sleep.

 But this was not a dreamless slumber.

 Jared opened his eyes and picked himself off the dusty ground. “What…”

 He immediately realized this was a dream, which had never happened to him before. It seemed like a lucid dream. After he’d first heard the term a few years ago, he’d spent weeks attempting to trigger one, not that he had any idea how to do that.

 Still, this didn’t even feel like that. The environment felt- for lack of a better term- real. His eyes even watered a bit at the dust he’d kicked up while he moved. Jared tried to get a bearing of his surroundings.

 He was in a small, fenced-in square. A firm wooden fence lined it, and beyond there was nothing but unnerving, endless void. There was nothing left to see.

 Then, a snarl from the middle of the ring. And yes, Jared was certain this was a ring.

 Sure enough, a cloud of dust was being kicked up at the center by the Bucking Bull. This wasn’t the first time this reminder of his past had stampeded through his dreams, but he could tell it had always just been flotsam, drifting in and out, like anything else your mind occupied itself with during the day. But this dream felt like it had been made for the Bull. Not only that, the Bull was not right. The plastic form itself wasn’t the disturbing part- it was the same bucking ride which had gobbled Jared’s quarters for months, though its eyes were now empty sockets. What scared him were the additions- the arms and legs it used to stamp the ground even now. And yes, that was the right term- arms and legs. They were smaller than the Bull, in a way that would be comical under different circumstances, and clearly belonged to a child.

 To Jacob.

 The boy and Bull had fused into one horrifying hybrid of man and machine. A hybrid that came charging at Jared.

 So enraptured by the monstrosity, Jared didn’t even move. The Bull bucked upwards, and its horns (had they always been so long and pointy?) impaled Jared.

 Jared screamed. The pain was real- more real than any dream had any right to be. He could feel fractured bone shifting in his torso, and he struggled to breathe. Warm blood cascaded out, forming a dark stain on his shirt.

 The creature huffed, in a way that indicated grim satisfaction. It braced its hands against his body and pulled its horns out. Jared collapsed to the ground.

 At least, he would have. As he fell, he suddenly awoke in a cold sweat. Jared was shell-shocked. “What- what was that?” he whispered to himself. What chilled him most of all was that it felt like he had woken just as his dream-self died. As if he had only been allowed to wake because that thing had finished with him.

 That thing…

 “Jacob. That was you.” Jared didn’t know if Jacob was still present, but he spoke anyway. It was insane to say, but it was true- some figment of Jacob had returned to torment him.

 Jared didn’t sleep the rest of the night. He wouldn’t sleep for many more nights.

5 Years Ago

 It was like tradition at this point.

 Eventually Jared returned to some sense of normalcy after that first nightmare. But it wouldn’t be the last. His following birthday bore the same fruit- the same horrid dream, down to the smallest detail and up to the grisly end. He attempted to stay awake the whole night the year after, but failed (Jared was unsure if it was supernatural interference or if he just wasn’t good at staying up that long). Three made a pattern, and Jared accepted his fate- annual torment that he honestly felt he deserved.

 In a way it was almost relieving. This birthday was the best one he’d had since his mistake, because he no longer felt the guilty need to torture himself- someone else was doing it for him. And today had truly been great- his parents, who had been quite distant lately, treated him and his friends to dinner at a great Mexican place in town. He’d gotten some great gifts, including flying lessons from his parents (He’d always wanted to be a pilot). Overall, it had been one of the best days he’d had in years, and made him reluctant to climb into bed. He knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant sleep, but what choice did he have?

 After a restless hour, bracing for what was to come, Jared drifted off. As expected, he found himself in that arena. It was the same as always.

 At least, until the Bull appeared. Jared could never see it happen- it always materialized just out of sight. Still, he heard the huff, and turned. The Bull had changed. Rather than being just as it was with the grotesque additions of its limbs, the abomination before him was constructed of marbled flesh, bone, and muscle. It looked greasy and rotten, and there was a long, needle-toothed mouth along its upper back, from which a deep growl emanated. Its head was covered in several extra eyes, which all glared at Jared accusingly. Even in his dream, he could feel vomit rising in his throat.

 That was nothing compared to what happened when it spoke.

 “JARED.”

“I SAW YOU. YOUR PARTY.”

“YOU WERE LAUGHING. SMILING.

“YOU KNOW YOU DON’T DESERVE THAT.”

 The Bull’s words were a kick in the gut. And yet, Jared felt like it was right. He had always known he didn’t deserve any happiness, but tried to deny it.

“THIS IS WHAT YOU DESERVE. THIS PLACE HERE.”

“YOU WILL DIE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN.”

“YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES.”

“YOUR CARELESSNESS.”

“YOUR SELFISHNESS.”

“YOU WILL SUFFER. AND YOUR SUFFERING WILL HAVE NO END.”

 With that, the abomination- a stitched-up, bleeding reminder that Jared wasn’t worthy of joy- charged and gored.

 Jared didn’t even put up a fight.

1 Year Ago

 It had to just be in his head.

 Not the Bull, no. Jared knew very well that that was real. Each year they became more brutal. The pain of his goring wasn’t just familiar- he knew it like he knew the flight controls of a plane, except he had no power to change the course. What was in question was the feeling of agony that occasionally erupted from his torso while he was awake. It was like two red-hot knives were being driven into his chest, puncturing organs and cracking ribs.

 Obviously it was the Bull’s horns. But that had always been confined to his dreams.

 He had made certain to have no plans the day after his birthday: he usually needed the time to recover from the increasingly violent mental assaults. But a particularly vicious spike of pain left him speeding to the hospital, praying they’d have a rational answer for what was wrong with him.

 He eventually was looked over by a woman named Dr Gray. She ran some tests, but still couldn’t find anything wrong- at least, until she had some technicians run an x-ray.

 Jared waited in the examination room for a few minutes, before she reentered looking concerned.

 “Ok, so I got a look at the x-ray in the lab, and I can bring it up here on this screen. Maybe you can explain the…oddity present.”

 Dr Gray grabbed a remote and flicked the screen to display the scan. It showed Jared’s torso, most prominently his ribcage. The bones looked slightly bent and displayed cracks.

 “It appears your ribcage was broken, but not severely. In fact, it looks like it healed more quickly than should be possible. Even stranger, some examination of the fractures gives the impression this injury occurred multiple times.”

 She sighed. “Can you shed some light on this? Even apart from the bizarre nature of your condition, there is no reason it should be causing pain like this.”

 Jared hesitated, before deciding to let a little of the truth slip. “I’ve had this recurring nightmare for years. I’m trapped with a monster, and it always kills me, goring me on its horns right there. It feels so real. Do you think that might have anything to do with it?”

 Dr Gray frowned. “There’s a known phenomena called psychogenic pain, where your psychology and emotions can cause you to imagine pain. It could even result in true physical symptoms, but nothing this severe. And this is severe.

 The damage is building up, and the bones are weaker than they’d otherwise be. I fear if whatever has been happening to you occurs one more time, it could completely fracture your rib cage. This could very well be fatal.”

 She began prescribing an anti-anxiety medication for his dreams, which was hardly a novel experience for Jared. The last word echoed through his mind: FATAL.

 Was this what Jacob had intended the whole time? Not just mental torment for the sake of it, but to slowly wear down his body. Now, he was running out of time.

 Jared didn’t deserve this.

 It was such an absurd thought. He had spent nearly a decade enduring the attacks of the demonic Bull because he felt like it was his punishment. He was a bad person, who had killed a boy. But now, when confronted with death, he wasn’t sure. Did he really deserve everything he had suffered, for what had ultimately been a mistake? Why shouldn’t he be allowed a happy life?

 These questions piling up in his head were a shock to the system. Jared had never even questioned his place. But now, he was tired of being pushed around, and he was angry that Jacob would do this to him. Yes, as bizarre as it sounded, Jacob had crossed a line in the quest for post-mortem vengeance he’d set out on. And he needed to be stopped.

 No matter how long it took.

Now

 “Cutting it close, are we?” Jared sighed as he pulled into the abandoned parking lot.

 He had begun his mission of searching for the Bull mere days after his troubling diagnosis. Jared had assumed it was still located in his hometown pizzeria, which had closed shortly after Jacob’s death. Alas, it wasn’t so simple. Jared was somewhat disgusted to learn the company had simply relocated the best animatronics and attractions to other restaurants, which included the Bucking Bull.

 From there the ride had been pawned off from place to place. Over one six-month period, it had gone from a junkyard to a local sports bar to a Fazbear location to an inflatable-attraction renter. From what Jared could learn, the ride no longer functioned well, and carried a rotting smell no matter how much it was washed, thus no one holding onto it long after it was purchased. But Jared had finally pinned it down. The most recent Freddy Fazbear’s it had been installed in had quickly folded, and no one had touched its contents since.

 And here he was. Jared stepped out of his pickup truck, a crowbar in one hand and a holstered pistol at his side. “One way or another, it ends tonight.”

 The doors were boarded up, but he easily pried them off. He walked inside the building, scanning for the machine.

 The info Jared had received was accurate. The restaurant hadn’t even been touched- rows of arcade games without any gaps, and the three animatronics powered down on the main stage. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume it was just closed for the night.

 The Bull wasn’t in sight, though. It had been purchased extremely recently; perhaps it was still uninstalled, stored in the back?

 Jared spotted a door at the back: STAFF ONLY. “Good place to start, I guess.”

  He swiftly walked across the main room, but paused. Had he just heard a voice, echoing through the empty restaurant?

 No, no. It was in his head.

 But was that enough to say it wasn’t real?

 Jared grasped the doorknob and turned. The door swung open, and there it was.

 The Bucking Bull.

 He hadn’t seen it for a decade in its ordinary state, surely it would be easier to stomach than the flesh beast that haunted his dreams? Nothing but a torso and head molded from shiny black plastic. And yet he almost vomited. It was all coming back- the control panel, the red duct tape with a scrawled warning, the smashed, bloody skull of his best friend.

 Jared stumbled forward, trembling. The platform around the bull had been deflated, leaving nothing but the central motor with trailing wires. It was dead center in the room, surrounded by other animatronic parts- almost like it was a place of honor.

 With all his strength, Jared raised his crowbar. He closed his eyes, and brought it down onto the machine’s plastic head-

 CLANG

 Before Jared even opened his eyes he knew something was wrong. That wasn’t the hollow sound of metal hitting plastic. That was the harsh sound of metal striking metal. However, that observation didn’t prepare him for what he saw.

 Before him stood the Bull- yes, stood. Silently, and faster than Jared thought possible, the Bull had gained legs formed of nearby parts. It had swiftly brought one up to block his blow, and had succeeded.

 Jared couldn’t even process this before the limb reshifted, closing around his crowbar, gripping it tight. It pulled it out of his grasp and threw it against the wall.

 Jared tried to scream, but no sound came out. The Bull approached, lumbering along on its horrible legs of mangled metal. Once it was within a foot of him, it spoke.

“JARED.”

“THANK YOU FOR COMING.”

“BUT PLEASE. CEASE THIS NONSENSE.”

 Jared wasn’t sure if it read his mind or the confused expression on his face, because it clarified.

“THESE DELUSIONS THAT THIS IS A FIGHT YOU SHOULD WIN.”

“YOU DESERVE TO DIE. I THOUGHT YOU HAD FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHEN YOU CAME.”

“THAT OUR BOUTS WITHIN YOUR HEAD WERE AN INVITATION. YOUR MOUNTING INJURIES MY WAY OF LIGHTING A FIRE UNDER YOU.”

“YOU WERE MEANT TO COME READY TO DIE. YOUR FINAL BREATH BEGETTING LONG OVERDUE JUSTICE.”

“PERHAPS NOW YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?”

 Jared did. He stopped his slow retreat. He lowered his arms from their defensive pose. And he prepared to die.

 The Bull’s leg reshaped again, into a long, oily spike of gears and pistons. It positioned it against Jared’s chest- one slight movement would drive it through his heart.

 “I’m sorry, Jacob.” Jared said, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He knew it would earn him no mercy from the Bull, and he hardly felt he deserved any, but he just felt the need to say it.

 And then, a voice.

 “Jared, please! Run!”

 Jacob.

 Jared gasped, and somewhat awoke from his trance. He grabbed the Bull’s limb and twisted it away from himself. The Bull was clearly thrown off guard, and stumbled backwards. This gave Jared the chance to run.

 He burst out of the backroom and into the main showroom. He ducked behind an arcade machine and tried to be as quiet as possible.

 The backroom door slammed open, and Jared could hear the lumbering Bull, creaking on its amalgamated limbs.

 As the monster moved, Jared tried to concentrate. “Jacob?” he thought as strongly as he could, hoping his friend would be able to hear.

 “Hey, Jared.”

 Suddenly, the world around Jared collapsed, and he resurfaced in the ring. The same place that had been home to so many deaths. But it felt different, more peaceful in a weird way.

 And standing there was Jacob- a short brown-haired kid in a striped shirt, smiling awkwardly. There were no remnants on his body of his fatal injury.

 Jared stared, unsure of what to say. Eventually he forced himself to speak. “Uh, hey. Why’d you tell me to run?”

 Jacob stared back, confused. “Because you were just standing there even though you were about to be stabbed?”

 “But isn’t that what you wanted? Weren’t you just telling me about how I deserved to die?”

 Jacob sighed. “Jared, that wasn’t me. I’m not the Bucking Bull.”

 “What?!” Jared asked incredulously. “Then why are you here?”

 “Ok, maybe I sort of am. Ever since…the accident, when I died, I’ve possessed the Bull. I’m not sure why, it just sort of happened. But I’m not the one that tormented you in your dreams and is trying to kill you now.”

 “Who is?”

 “You.”

 There was a completely deafening silence. “No.” Jared muttered. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not trying to kill myself.”

 “In some subconscious way, you are. I’m not an expert on how this works, but from my time as a spirit, I’ve learned that the emotions of the living and the dead are powerful. They can animate nonliving objects, or hurt people. And one of the most powerful emotions is guilt.”

 “So you’re saying because I felt bad for killing you this thing is gonna kill me? I haven't even been close to it since what happened.”

 “First off, my theory is that since you knew the Bull so well, and it was so directly connected to your guilt, it caused a connection that helped your emotions be transferred no matter how far away you got. And secondly, stop saying you killed me.”

 “What do you want me to say?!” Jared cried. His knees trembled, and he fell to the dusty ground. “I messed with the controls of a ride you were on, all because I wanted to keep a stupid high score! You’d be alive today if not for me. Maybe the Bull- maybe I- was right all along. I don’t deserve to live.”

 Jared felt a hand on his shoulder. “You’re wrong.” Jacob said. “You made a dumb mistake. You were eleven. I’m glad you’re willing to accept responsibility, but you can’t let your guilt tear you apart.”

 Jared wiped his eyes. “Why are you even comforting me? Why is this your problem?”

 Jacob grinned. “Honestly? I think this is why I stayed after I died. You’re my friend. I wanted to help you.”

 Suddenly, the arena was consumed with unimaginably bright light. “Guess that’s my cue.” Jacob said as the white consumed him. “Good luck, Jared. See you again, someday.”

 When the light faded, Jared could see the dusty arena- his place of self-torment- was gone.

 And then Jared awoke. He was back in the pizzeria, and the Bull was still raging.

 Quietly, with no urgency, Jared climbed to his feet and walked out from behind the arcade machine.

 The Bull caught him out of the corner of its eye. It snarled, and stamped the ground, preparing to charge.

 “Listen.” Jared began. “I know what you are now. You’re me.”

 The Bull barely reacted.

 “I made a mistake. And because of that, Jacob died. For so long, I’ve been unable to forgive myself.”

YOU DON’T DESERVE FORGIVENESS.

 “I’m not denying what I did. But torturing myself like this won’t bring Jacob back. He’s forgiven me; maybe I should too.”

JUSTICE MUST BE SERVED.

 “You are kind of right. I left town so quickly, it didn’t give me the chance to do some things. Apologize to Jacob’s family, and his friends…I should do that.” Jared stared the beast down, determined. “But I won’t accept you killing me. I’m done being haunted by a past I can’t change.”

 There was silence. It was as if the Bull was, for the first time, struggling to condemn him.

I JUST WANT PEACE. FOR THIS NIGHTMARE WE BEGAN TO END.

 “Then end it.”

 The Bull was still. Then, it crumbled. The plastic body hit the ground with a THUD, and the metal joints and limbs it had used clattered apart.

 The Bull was gone.

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 Jared slid into his car, tossing his crowbar into the back seat. He pulled out of the parking lot, and eventually made it onto the highway.

 The sun peered over the horizon, coloring the distance pink and red. The rolled-down windows ushered a calming, cool breeze into the vehicle. The world was alive and hopeful, and for the first time in almost a decade Jared felt the same.

 “Thank you, Jacob.” he said quietly, once again certain there would be no answer.