#posos

Just a ways ahead, she found the source of the voice; A single staff bot currently attempting—and failing—to corral a large family into remaining still enough to be scanned. While expressionless, Chrys could swear she heard exasperation in the bot’s monotone voice. 

“Guests, please remain in place. Scanning will commence—GUESTS. Please remain in place. Scanning will commence—GUESTS. Please remain in—”

“Hey!” Every face in the vicinity turned to look at her. She disregarded those that were human and spoke only to the staff bot. “Are you able to get a message to an animatronic? It’s urgent.”

Head cocked, her request was met with a blank stare. A red laser pinprick lit up the center of its oval iris, washing over her. 

“Employee designation recognized. Request granted. What is your message and intended recipient?”

The family huffed from behind the bot, but she refused to let them distract her from her goal. If they wanted this to be over sooner, they should have been more patient and cooperative in the first place. 

“Uh, for Sun.”

“Sun is off-line. Choose available recipient.”

“Wait, what?” The bot’s response made her pause. “But I literally just saw him a couple of minutes ago.”

“Sun is off-line. Choose available recipient.” 

“Oook then… uh, what about Moon? Is he available?”

The bot remained silent for a moment before answering, the sound of a fan revving signifying his inner query. “Affirmative.”

“Great!” She pumped her fist. “Then, uh, tell him he needs to go to Kids Cove as soon as possible. I have reason to believe that’s where Marigold’s gone. You know, the missing kid.”

The staff bot bobbed its head before returning to duty. “Received. Message sent.” 

“Great, thank you!”

Hopefully he gets there quickly…

Task completed, she let her feet lead the way back, letting the frustrated bot return to his unenviable duty. Though with each step, her assurance wavered. A peculiar knot still remained lodged in her chest, weighing on her. But why? She came to a halt when a flash of pain shot through the inside of her cheek, catching up to her that she’d been chewing at it without realizing it. 

This didn’t make sense. She’d done what she sought out to do; Give someone better suited to help Marigold in this situation an advantage, point them in the right direction. That’s all that she could do, right? 

So why did she feel so dissatisfied?

A single thought repeatedly clawed to the surface, eating away at what was left of her confidence. What if… what if she was wrong? What if her deductions meant nothing, and she was pulling help further away from where it really needed to be? Should she have thought to check it out herself first, and called for help later? Was she just wasting everyone’s time, sending them on a wild goose chase?

She groaned, the butts of her palms shoved to her eyes as she spun in place. She didn’t think this through! Stupid, so, so stupid! If she’d bungled this she’d feel like the worst sort of person—a detriment, with the audacity to burden others with her incompetence.  

Looking out from beyond her hands, she found herself standing in the space between the front gate of the Daycare and the path which led to the elevator. The realization dawned on her that this would have been the most likely path for the party to have followed upon returning to the Daycare. What were the odds that this was where Marigold had run off?

While things weren’t crystal clear, her eyes had had enough time to adjust to the dim space that she could make out some of the graphics and advertisements around her, scanning for anything that might have caught a child’s eye. A cut-out for Roxy Raceway, a poster of Freddy singing, and—there! Protruding from a wall, a mounted arrow sign, pointing down a conjoining hallway, with the words “Kids Cove” written at its center, surrounded by what looked to be an image of palm trees.

Bingo!

Her body took off of its own volition, and soon the slap of her sneakers joined the cacophony of the crowd as she jogged, deftly avoiding wayward packs of confused and irate people until she reached her destination; A wide open and decorated archway that once would have made for a inviting display, now cordoned off by an array of wooden crates, opaque sheets of plastic and caution tape, with two signs bookending the haphazard mess of clutter. Flashlight in hand, Chrys drew close, using the light to read the message. 

“Kids Cove.” She breathed. “Closed for renovations. Do not enter without special authorization. Fazbear Entertainment will not be held liable for any harm received past this point. Well,” she sighed, craning to try and look beyond the blockages. “Trying to find a lost kid counts as special authorization, right? Right. Of course it does.” 

After a minute of examining the area, she discovered a small opening between the sides of two crates, just large enough for her to squeeze through if she dropped to her belly and shimmied on her side. 

“Guess I know how she would’ve gotten in…”

From the floor, nothing but a void greeted her beyond the crates. No light, no glow, only an inky abyss, one that even her flashlight couldn’t overpower, at least not from this angle. Positioning herself down to an army crawl, she ignored any dust her movement kicked up, though they made her nose sniffle, and inched her way through. Once she could stick her top half out on the other side, a quick look confirmed her suspicions; No emergency lighting present, not like the rest of the building. The air felt oppressive against her skin, tickling the hair on the back of her neck. If Marigold managed to make it in this far before the lights went out, there’d have been no way for her to have found her way back out again on her own.

“Marigold?” She called, pulling herself to her feet and stepping carefully into the dark, the flashlight acting as her anchor and her guide, lighting her way past the abstract and colorful shapes partially revealed within the minuscule circle of light.

With a bit of examination, the abstract shapes revealed themselves to be different kinds of playground equipment. Jungle gyms, slides, swings, all in various shades of underwater or muted jewel tones, with most still in some incomplete form of assembly. She had to hand it to those two attendants. For as infuriating as they were, it appeared as if they knew at least a little of what they talked about. 

The further in she went, the more apparent it was how secluded this section of the pizzaplex was from the rest of the building. None of the fanfare from the guests outside could make it this far, making every sound more pronounced within the silence. Her footsteps, her breathing. Though she was here with good intentions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps this wasn’t the wisest of decisions. Ignoring the goosebumps which prickled across her arms, she pressed on, reminding herself that she was an adult, and there was a kid in need right now. It was her responsibility to keep herself under control.

“Marigold?” She called out again, her voice bouncing throughout the room. “Marigold, can you hear me?”

Waiting for the last of her echoes to fade, she held her breath, hoping to better catch even the softest of sounds.

“… Miss Chrys?”

She whipped to the side with a sharp gasp, flashlight darting to try and locate its source.

“Marigold?” Chrys repeated, hesitant to trust in what she heard as the real deal and not just a figment of her imagination.

“Miss Chrys!”

“Marigold!!!”

Certain now without the shadow of a doubt, Chrys rushed ahead, narrowly avoiding the scattered pieces of unfinished playground equipment littering the floor.

“Where are you? Are you hurt? Don’t worry, I’m—AHHH!”

Her words switched to a shout as the floor disappeared out from under her, stomach lurching as she sprawled forward, arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to cushion her fall. Her flashlight flew from her grasp, the beam darting about in erratic streaks, before going out with a bang and a crackle, leaving her blind in the dark as she hit the ground.

“Miss Chrys!!!”

Marigold’s terrified voice shrieked in her ear, closer than ever before, adding to her disorientation. Her knees and elbows smarted, having taken the majority of her weight in the fall, and her shoulder ached, but overall, that seemed to be the worst of it. The fall must not have been that bad, though to Chrys it felt like she fell a good couple of feet, at least. 

“Miss Chrys, are you ok???”

Reminded of the present by a pair of tiny hands yanking and tugging at her shirt, Chrys shook herself from her daze and did her best to focus.

“Marigold, is that you? Oh, I’m so glad to—oof!”

“I’m sorry!!” The girl launched herself at her so hard she pushed the air from her lungs, and clung to her as if she were a lifeline. “I thought big brother would be here, his office is here, he’s always working! But then it was all blocked off, and I wasn’t sure if I should look behind it, but I wanted to find him so I tried, but then there was nobody, and, and then, then the lights went out, and I didn’t know how to get back, and I tripped and fell and now my ankle hurts and… and… WAHHHHHH!!!!” 

The girl spoke in a single, fluid torrent, her words a bleeding mess of incoherent emotions and distress. Her tears broke into full bodied sobs, her breathing disjointed by deep gasps of air.

“Hey, hey!” Chrys sat up, scooping the wailing child into her arms. “It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. Everything’s ok, shhhhh…”

She rocked in place, patting gently along the child’s back in a soothing motion, keeping her little murmurs of reassurance soft and calm and steady. 

“There you go, that’s it,” Chrys said, sensing her efforts were taking effect. “Take a deep breath for me. In—” She demonstrated the motion first, pleased when Marigold imitated. “And out. Good, good.” 

The poor thing sat on her lap tucked in the fetal position, head nestled up under Chrys’s chin. She hiccupped and sniffled as her tears ebbed, snuggling in as close as she could. 

“Marigold,” Chrys asked, pausing to consider her words before continuing. “What’s going on, why did you run off? We were all so worried.”

The girl coughed, the sound heavy with mucus, and curled even further inward. “… he promised.”

“Promised? Promised what?”

Silence hung heavy in the air around them, until after another wet cough, Marigold continued. “Big Brother promised he’d celebrate my birthday with me. But… everything’s been so bad lately. Since Grandpa didn’t wake up, all Mama and Papa do is shout and yell and cry, and Big Brother is never home anymore! I just… I just wanted everyone to smile again, like when mama and I first moved in… he promised!!! 

The wails started anew, face pressed into her chest, the tears soaking through the already wet fabric as she worked herself up again. Chrys winced alongside each of her pain-filled cries but remained silent, giving her the space to release all the pent up grief and confusion bottled up inside. She knew how it was to be so overwhelmed that you couldn’t think straight. Wrapping her arms fully around her shaking frame, she held the girl close, cheek pressed to the top of her head, rocking gently back and forth. Words wouldn’t help here. Just presence and kindness. To know it was alright to cry, to know you were safe while you let it all out, give voice to the ache that refused to leave. 

To know you weren’t alone. 

A memory appeared in her mind then, foggy, but there, of her mother holding her in a similar position soon after her Dad had died. Oh, how she’d cried and cried, inconsolable, but her mother had let her, holding her tight as the soft melody she sang soothed her frazzled nerves…

“When the Sun sets…”

The same song found purchase in her own throat now, vying for space amidst the child’s cries. Chrys sang just above a whisper, a purposeful breathiness intermingling with each note. 

“And the Moon rises…”

Marigold shifted, turning so as the side of her face rested against Chrys’s chest, where her heartbeat was strongest. Chrys ran a gentle hand over her head, caressing the soft curls. 

“The stars will dance for you. As the petals blow, from the trees embrace, carrying away your light. And there I’ll go, to the waters edge, to sing with you again….”

Marigold’s breathing settled as the last note faded, the music having won against the sorrow. The empty air around them no longer carried a sense of unease, but rather that of a comforting shield, protecting them in an otherworldly cocoon of peace and quiet. 

“What… what song is that?” Marigold’s tiny voice asked, her sniffle the loudest. 

“Just… a lullaby my mother taught me. It always used to help me whenever my heart hurt. Maybe it can help yours too.”

Though she didn’t reply, Marigold seemed content with her answer, snuggling in closer and twirling a lock of hair as they sat together in comfortable silence. They should start trying to find their way back soon, Chrys knew, alleviate everyone’s worry and return to enjoying the rest of the party, but… she couldn’t find it within herself to move the exhausted girl quite yet. Poor thing could use an extra minute or two. 

Though, despite her wishes, fate seemed to have a different plan. A sharp clang, thin and metallic, rang out from the darkness, shattering their illusion of solitude. Marigold gasped and stiffened. Chrys remained silent, listening.

“Monster…” Marigold whispered, in the tiniest of voices. She trembled, attempting to back further into the safety of her arms. Chrys adjusted, using a free hand to wipe the wet strands of hair out of Marigold’s tear-soaked face. 

“It’s ok,” Chrys replied, reassuring. “Maybe something fell, or…” In the distance, a soft tinkling sound resounded through the void, active, and growing closer by the millisecond. It took Chrys a split-second to realize what it was.

“Bells… they’re bells! Oh, thank goodness. Marigold, it’s alright, that’s no monster, that’s just Mr.—”

“No!” Marigold screeched, fighting against her “No, no! Monster, monster!!” 

Tugging against her hold, her behavior grew more frantic by the second, forcing Chrys to struggle in order to keep Marigold still. If she slipped up and let her run off into the dark like this, she could only imagine how badly she could get hurt. She had to figure out a way to get her to calm down before things got out of hand. 

Wait, the flashlight! Of course!

Everything always seemed scarier in the dark; it’s why night-lights were staples in childhood bedrooms. Marigold just needed to see that there was nothing to fear! Deciding to try, Chrys switched her hold to a single arm, just long enough to snatch the tool from the ground and smash the defiant button, hoping to make the stubborn thing work through sheer force of will alone. 

“Come on, come on!”

The jingles grew louder, only to stop just before they would have reached them, the lack of noise louder than the sound itself. A red glow began to break through the darkness surrounding them, illuminating the dark shapes around them bit by bit. Marigold exploded the second she noticed, kicking and clawing as if her life depended on it, her tiny nails digging into Chrys’s arm hard enough that she could feel the sharp pricks of pain and warm wetness bloom across her skin. Dropping the flashlight, Chrys abandoned her previous plan and focused solely on restraining Marigold, certain now that she would inevitably harm herself in such a state. 

“Marigold, stop! It’s alright! Relax! There’s no monster, I promise! You have to calm down!”

A sharp “crunch” from the side interrupted her just then, followed immediately by an eruption of light which split the space between, blinding as her pupils constricted. 

Blinking against the pain, snippets of vision registered as her eyes adjusted. Blue fabric against yellow stars. Grey and blue endoskeleton. A sleeping cap more hood than cap draped over thin shoulders. And a silvery, crescent moon face, framing blood red, glowing eyes, the very same which had stared down at her while she lay on a concrete floor. 

Chrys waved off her concern, her arm covered in an assortment of colorful bandages, an apologetic smile across her face. 

“Oh no, this is nothing, really. I’m more concerned for her. Are you sure you don’t want to take her to a doctor?”

Marigold’s mother smiled back, tired, but accepting, with an assuring nod.  

“Yes, at least for tonight. Our family doctor has likely already retired for the evening, old man that he is, and she’s been through enough for one evening, I think. We’ll check in with him first thing in the morning.” She glanced away before meeting Chrys’s eyes once more, a cautious vulnerability seen within. “You know… I knew that she hadn’t been herself lately, quieter, prone to getting lost in her own little world, but I… I just thought it was her way of mourning, of dealing with her grandfather passing. Kids are always so difficult to judge with this kind of stuff, especially at her age. I guess with all the chaos going on, I missed just how badly she was truly hurting… ” She sighed, defeated. “Maybe I’m both a bad wife and a bad mom.”

Chrys’s initial instinct was to assure, to dismiss the statement, but something in her held back. Her gaze instead pivoted to Marigold, the frail and pale thing clutched once more to her mother’s side, with one hand latched firm to her own lips, her regressive thumb sucking the only sign of any thought behind her glazed, heavy-lidded eyes. Her entire body exuded pure exhaustion. 

Unsurprising, given the circumstances. Fainting would be draining to even the hardiest of adults, let alone a young child.

 She could still see the moment clear in her mind; How heavy the child’s tiny body felt as she fell limp in Chrys’s arms, her ear-splitting scream taking up the last of what strength the poor thing had left. In hindsight, Chrys recognized she’d been wholly unprepared to handle this sort of emergency. Without a bit of outside help, she was loathe to think of how much worse everything could have progressed from there. 

Marigold’s mother continued. “Oh, but listen to me, postulating like some college intern. Pay me no mind, I should have known better. Daring to hope she might still have a normal birthday party despite everything going on right now was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly say that.” Chrys said, finding a touch of strength in her voice. “Yeah, it ended badly, but there were some good moments. Though, maybe in the future a small family gathering might be better, rather than some grandiose party. All these kids to play with, and all she really wanted was her brother, you know?” 

Marigold’s mother grew quiet and pensive, listening intently. “You… may have a point there.”

Chrys’s attention shifted to the rest of the quickly dwindling crowd of kids, each still smiling as their guardians came and picked them up one by one, blissfully unbothered by everything that had transpired once they’d returned from dinner. Nothing but joy and laughter on their minds, with new crafted masterpieces to show off at home. 

Shame washed over her, knowing that Marigold wasn’t one of those smiling faces. This was her day, her chance to be pampered and celebrated. And she was leaving worse off than when she arrived. 

So much for wanting to give her the best birthday party ever.

“Well, thank you again, for everything. I’m going to get us home now, get her in bed. You have a good rest of your evening, dear.”

Marigold’s mother afforded her one last, polite smile, before turning and walking away, guiding along the ghost of a daughter who trailed behind her. 

 Chrys managed a weak smile as they left, for their sake, but couldn’t maintain it long. As soon as the two disappeared from sight, her facade crumbled, revealing the miserable expression waiting underneath. 

What a week. And it’s only Wednesday…

An out-of-place giggle pulled her from her thoughts, coming from the other side of the entrance, where the last child waited to be dismissed. He sat on the floor, legs outstretched while Moon, back towards her, helped him to tie his shoes.

“Oh my, you have snakes on your sneakers. Whatever shall we do? Here, let's tie them together in one big bow so that they can’t slither off on your way home.” 

He spoke with a softer inflection compared to Sun, far more gravely and nearly an octave lower. The boy cackled louder this time, amused as Moon added little “hissing” sounds as he looped each shoelace. The scene brought a soft smile to her face. 

“Hunter!” A voice shouted from out in the hall, manifesting in what must have been the boy’s mother storming through the gate, her distress evident. “Hunter Daniels, stop messing around this instant! It’s time to go!”

Heels slamming the ground with each step, she grasped the boy beneath his arms and hoisted him to his feet, with enough force to cause him to stumble before finding his footing, a single shoe still left untied. 

“Mom, stop! I’m not ready!”

“You’re ready enough! If I’d known this birthday party would take place in here I never would have let you come, even if the Chanceller’s are footing the bill. Now let’s go!”

“Okay, okay!”

His meek protests faded as they rushed from the daycare, a chaotic blur as the boy struggled to keep up with his mother’s furious pace. The gate doors closed behind them with an out-of-place and heavy “thud”.

“Yikes,” Chrys said, hesitant to make a sound in the wake of their departure. “What’s got her in such a tizzy?” 

Moon remained still, crouched in the same position on the floor, as if he’d been frozen from the very same moment the woman arrived.

“Moon?” Chrys asked, hesitant. “You alright?” She inched a step closer, enough so as to nearly place a hand on his shoulder. Just before she could, he snapped back to life and rose to his feet, shoulders tense, hands balled, and addressed her without so much as a tilt of his head in her direction. 

“I’m fine. The party is over now. You can go home.”

His words were curt, devoid of any of the warmth or affection he’d just shown the boy in helping him get ready. The sudden and unexpected shift in his attitude caught her off-guard. He’d hardly spoken since he’d found her and Marigold in Kids Cove, but that could be easily justified given the situation at the time. Now, his introversion felt cold, prickly almost, as if a web of thorns had woven throughout his personal space, threatening injury to any who dared to get too close. 

Had she said something wrong?

Capitalizing on her momentary hesitation, he strode into the heart of the room without another word, and began the hefty task of taking down all the various pieces of decoration still attached to the playplaces, leaving her to stand alone.

It was then she realized, while watching him from afar, that this was the first time she’d had the chance to see him out in the open, uninhibited. No impenetrable darkness, no near death experiences, no frightened child in need, nothing. Though she knew she was staring, she couldn’t seem to look away. 

 All the bits and pieces of him she’d seen so far still rang true. His base was a carbon copy of Sun’s, but with a different overall theme, obvious in the details. 

Even his clothes are black-light reactive, just like the stars on the ceiling. How clever.

Remaining quiet, she made her way to where he was, keeping just enough distance to not infringe on his personal space, yet close enough to still make her presence known. His body language communicated that he wished to be left alone, but she chose not to comply. 

It was about time they had a chance to chat one-on-one.

“So… is now a good time to thank you?”

He paused, a confused expression emerging, hands lost in a mess of different strings and streamers. 

“What?” He said. “You don’t need to thank me. Recovering a missing child is literally my job.”

Irritation colored his voice, his words landing with a bite before he scowled and returned to his work. He did everything in his power to avoid participating in the conversation. 

“I mean, that’s not true.” She replied. “I don’t know what I would have done with Marigold if you hadn’t shown up when you did. But, even so, that’s not really what I was talking about.” She tested the waters, stepping closer. “I meant the storeroom, and the paint shelf. Remember? I never really got to thank you for coming to my rescue.” She leaned on the playplace within his line of sight, making herself unavoidable. “That… was you, wasn’t it?”

With how reluctant he was to speak, she knew she walked a fine line, attempting to get him to confess his participation without pushing too far. She’d already gotten all the confirmation she needed; There was no mistaking his voice, not now that she was so close. The only question that remained was whether or not he would deny it. 

His eyes drifted to the floor, and he sighed, finally abandoning the knot he’d been attempting to untangle. He whispered, just soft enough that she was unsure if he meant for her to hear it or not. 

“And if it was? Would you still want to thank me then?”

His statement carried with it the weight of sorrow, dissonant to the standoffish demeanor he wore now. Nothing she had thought to say felt appropriate given this unexpected vulnerability, leaving her at a loss for words.

As if taking her silence for judgment, he grumbled, and turned back to his previous task, brusquely brushing her off. 

“Nevermind. Like I said, you should go home. Forget about all this. I’ll get it cleaned up.”

Mentally, she berated herself. She’d overstepped, and now the wall was back up. His body language, his voice, all worked to push her away, reject her attempts at outreach. But why? To what end? Nothing about his behavior made sense to her. What did he gain by forcing distance between them? Without a clear goal in mind, the wisest thing to do now would be to leave, follow his advice and go home. Respect his unspoken wish to be left alone, and wait until next time to try and make friends again.

Only who knows how long that would be.

With a slight pout of her lips, she stepped back, and moved to the opposing playplace, setting to work on untangling another mess of strings which held a large banner in place. 

“What are you doing?” He stopped, following her every move with an incredulous look. “I just said I’d take care of it.”

“I know.” She stated, looking anywhere but at him. “And I opted to disregard it.”

She heard him make a throaty click, and had to stop the smirk that threatened to break through. 

“I had no intention of letting Sun clean up all of this by himself. I’m not sure what makes you think you are any different.”

Maintaining a veneer of disinterest, Chrys continued to work, doing her best to ignore the prickle that rose to the back of her neck as she sensed rather than saw Moon approach her from behind. Only once his shadow blocked the light from reaching her did she deign to turn around. 

“Yes? Can I help you?” She quipped. 

The permanent smile on his face quivered, the corners tightening with annoyance. He leaned over, closing the gap, with his arms crossed in what she thought was a half-hearted attempt at being intimidating. 

“Go. Home.”

“No.”

His eye joined the rest of his face in twitching, and he closed them for a moment as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Maybe I should have let you go rushing to your own death. Would have been fitting, seeing as how stubborn you are.”

“Yeah, you could have.” Chrys said, refusing to look away from his strained smile and tired eyes. “But you didn’t. So whether you like it or not, it’s my turn to return the favor. I owe you. Now, mind telling me where this goes?”

She held up the banner she’d been working on, now free from its constraints. His eyes widened, bouncing between her and the impossible knot he’d yet to figure out himself. Throwing his hands up, he rolled his eyes. 

“Fine! You win. Just, I don’t know, be careful? And don’t get in my way.” He pinched the center curve of his crescent nose as she grinned, pleased. “You can put all the decorations in the tubs behind the security desk.”

For the next half hour, the two kept to their own, working separate yet cooperatively from the other to remove all the birthday decor from the Daycare. Trip after trip was made, until the last spool of streamers was placed in their proper place.  

“There!” Chrys said, placing the lid on the final tub. “Finished.” She mimed clapping the dust from her hands. “Aren’t you glad I stuck around?”

Moon came up beside her, picking up the tub and hauled it over to the entrance, placing it among the rest of the packed up decorations.

“You were not… not helpful, I suppose.”

Chrys chuckled. As they had worked, the wall he’d erected to keep her at bay had been chipped away at, their interactions growing more relaxed and less curt. Speaking occurred without as much difficulty, though he still remained a man of few words. Another interesting contrast between the two brother’s, she presumed. 

Following behind, Chrys waited until he was finished before approaching, having learned in their brief time together that he seemed to dislike someone coming up to him from behind when he wasn’t looking. Having already grabbed her bag from her locker, the clock chimed the time, signaling that even if she wished to stay, her shift was nearing its end. All that was left to do was to check-in and say goodbye. 

“Well, I guess that’s everything. Anything else you need me to do before I go?”

He crossed his arms and cocked a hip, cracking a raised eyebrow to her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going to listen to me now? And here I thought you were trying to avoid leaving at all.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’ll be right back here bright and early tomorrow, trust me. I don’t want to hear Vanessa berate me for being late again.”

For the first time, she heard him laugh. Lightly, softly, but there. The sound made her smile. 

“No, I can't imagine you do. She has a rather impressive way of making you feel like utter garbage the moment she says your name.”

“Hey,” Chrys said. “Least she doesn’t butcher it. You wouldn’t believe the ways people have managed to mess up “Chrysanthemum” before. Someone even once called me “Chlorophyll”. Chlorophyll! Like, how did they possibly come to that conclusion? It’s not even spelled remotely the same!” She held out her hand, her expression and tone both mockingly cheerful. “Hello! Pleasure to meet you, my name’s Chlorophyll! Don’t mind me, I’m just a plant!”

Moon chuckled, amused, surprising her by taking her outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake. “Pleased to meet you, little Ms. Walking Houseplant. Let’s hope you’re not poisonous, shall we?”

The two shared another chuckle, lightening the air around them further.  Though the camaraderie was still new and unfamiliar, it came with a natural, inviting flow Chrys found refreshing…until a tiny, clacking sound caught her attention.

Following the sound, it wasn’t hard to determine what had caused it. There, dangling from his wrist, a yellow and gold gemstone bead bracelet rattled against itself, the colors contrary to the cool blue of his arm. Her mirth faded as she recognized what she was looking at. 

“Uh, Moon…why are you wearing Sun’s bracelet?”

A knot caught in her throat, her “gift” staring at her in the face. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but her mind raced with the implications of what she saw, of what it meant. To have transferred to his wrist in the short time between when she last saw Sun, given all the chaos that occurred…it wasn’t realistic to think it had gotten there by any mundane means. Now that she thought about it, Sun still hadn’t returned since rushing off after Marigold’s disappearance…were her earlier suspicions actually right? 

“Actually,” She spoke with as steady a voice as she could manage. “Where is Sun right now? I-Is he coming back soon? I want to say goodbye to him before I head h-home—”

“Don’t play dumb.”

His hand tightened around hers with a crushing force, and his cold glare made her stomach drop. For the first time, the sheer magnitude of his unnaturally tall stature left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. Reflexively, she buckled towards him, clutching at their hands.

“Moon, s-stop, you’re hurting me!”

“Why?” He spat, his expression steeled. “You late on sending in your report? Let me guess, it’s all about how you’ve been keeping tabs on us, trying to see if we mess up? The “poor, damaged robots” not keeping up appearances well enough for management’s liking? Oh no no no, can’t have that now, can we?” He made a clicking, “tsk” sound before yanking, hard, on her arm, drawing her in dangerously close. “Is Vanessa getting worried we’ll cause another controversy? Is that really why she hired you?” 

She tried to pull away, to put the safety of distance back between them, but his hold was unyielding. He waited, eyes demanding an answer, yet she could think of nothing. None of the accusations he slung at her made any sense, and as the fire in her hand grew, she couldn’t even find the strength to speak up in her own defense. Bitter, confused tears burned hot trails down her cheeks, and she dug at Moon’s hand on hers with an ever-increasing panic.

With a growl of frustration, he threw her away, sending her sprawling backwards, her back falling into the wall with a heavy, solid “thud”. Her legs barely found the strength to keep her standing in time, having to prop up the majority of her weight on one hand as she found her footing.

“I bet you thought you were so clever, didn’t you?” He stalked towards her, eyes sharp and fierce, a cruel smile in place. “I’ll admit, you had me going there for a while. What a talented, pretty little actress you are, giving such a stellar performance.” He slammed his hands to the wall on either side of her head, causing her to cry out. “You may have Sunny fooled, but not me. Your little “nice girl” act has failed. But I can promise you something, starlight,” He spat the last word. “I won’t let anyone hurt my brother again. Not you, not Vanessa, not even the owner of Fazbear Entertainment himself. If you want us scrapped that badly, well…I guess you’ll just have to try a little bit harder.”

Rage rolled off him in waves, assaulting her senses. She wilted under his biting words, each as confusing and damaging as the last. Her breath hitched as he drew close, hovering his face just a few inches from her ear.

 “…still grateful I saved you?” 

His voice dripped with venomous sarcasm, and she trembled against her will. She could hardly breathe, hardly think, her overly-stressed mind an incoherent mess. This wasn’t what she’d expected, wasn’t what she’d thought might come about from making those damn bracelets, but she regretted it all the same. 

He pulled back with a snarl, his sharp teeth bared.

“’Cause it won’t happen again.”

Despite how her gut screamed at her not to, she dared to meet his gaze head-on, silently asking for mercy, respite, anything to make this stop. His red eyes, once a sight that brought her relief, now gleamed a hellish ruby, not an ounce of compassion to be found within.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “…P-Please…Sun will—”

“Sun’s not here.”

His curt response left no room for retort, and she pressed herself as far as she could into the wall, the desire to be as small as possible almost unignorable.  

“Though…you bring up an excellent point” he said, tilting his head. “It would do him some good, I think, to see you without his usual “sunny-colored lenses”. Let’s fetch him, shall we?” 

With a gravelly roar, he pulled back his arm, and slammed it down again with enough force to shake the wall. Chrys cried out, flinching away from the sound, her hands flying to protect her face. She shuddered, waiting for the pain to arrive, but it never did. Cracking her eyes open, the brightness that greeted her left her momentarily blind until her eyes adjusted. Glancing beside her, she gasped to see the light-switch smashed, cracks breaking through. Turning to Moon, she was surprised to find him watching her, as if he’d been waiting for her to. Using the same hand he smashed the light-switch with, he reached down and took her chin in his fingers, forcing her to face him completely.

“Don’t look away.” 

Without the softness of shadows to cloak his features in an air of fantasy, his countenance appeared duller, weathered, the colors washed out by the intense lighting, leaving him with an almost exposed, unnatural appearance, like a nocturnal animal caught out in daylight. Time stilled around them, each second strained and drawn out. She trembled under his gaze, unsure of what to do and too terrified to find out. 

Though she wouldn't have long to wait. 

In a snap, everything changed. Moon, clutching at his chest, let out a deep, guttural wail, as if his very heart had stopped. He dug and clawed at the edges of his faceplate, stumbling backwards with a lurch. With each second that passed his cries grew more and more anguished, and with horror settling in her gut, Chrys realized she’d heard these tortured sounds once before, in the sudden darkness of the storeroom. 

From his outermost extremities in, his body metamorphosed. As his limbs shook and jerked at odd angles, the colors of his pants changed, leeching up his body like a poison in stripes of red and gold. Not limited to just his clothing, the color infected his arms, his chest, rising up his body until finally, his head. 

Moon’s screams warped, the sound shifting to reflect more of another’s voice than his own, tears flowing uninhibited down her face as she recognized whose. The tension in the air grew and grew until all at once he went limp, his arms falling from his face to dangle lifelessly at his sides. His head spun on its axis, with his hat sliding in-between the separating plates, revealing a tangled mess of bare wiring and circuitry before being replaced by golden pointed rays and a soft, yellow complexion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sun, what are you—”

Yet she stood alone. The entrance doors clicked shut, broadcasting what must have been his departure. For him to leave without a word and so abruptly was unlike him. 

Wait, what even are our protocols? What am I supposed to be doing here??

The two attendants from the Atrium stood out against the sea of quietly occupied children. If anyone here might have a shot of giving her some kind of guidance, her best bet was from other employees.

“Uh, hey,” Chrys asked, hurrying over, doing her best to project some sort of veneer of calm, lest her anxiety take control. “Everything seemed fine when I left. What the heck happened?”

Neither moved to look at her, or acknowledged that she’d spoken. Their game of “Go Fish” was more interesting, eyes locked on their individual sets of cards. Chrys waited, arms crossed over her chest, gaze pointed, until someone caved. The one on the right took that title; A heavyset, disheveled looking man with greasy hair, who offered only a measly, nonchalant shrug in consolation. 

 “Eh, she must have slipped from the group while we were walking back. Kid was there when we lined up.”

Soon the other joined in, a small, diminutive stick of a woman, likely around the same middle age as her counterpart. She clicked her teeth and added a card to the center pile. “My guess is she got distracted by something we walked past and snuck off. I’ve heard of stuff like that happening from some of the other staff. Hell, this place is like temptation in a bottle for kids.”

Chrys’s composure threatened to crack. Could they not hear themselves right now? Her tone took on a sharp edge. “What do you mean “you guess”? Aren’t you worried about her?”

“Oh chill, she’ll be fine.” The male attendant answered, unfazed. “They’ll send every mechanical bozo they’ve got in this place after her, like that creepazoid clown you’ve got here. Soon as the lights go off she won’t stay missing for long, I can tell you that.”

Chrys bristled. She didn’t appreciate the blatant, derogatory dig. “Is that about Sun?”

“Nah, the other one.” The same attendant answered. “After all, the guy’s part of security now, it’s his job to handle shit like this.”

Just then, every light in the vicinity began to fade, blanketing the daycare in a soft but artificial twilight. Some of the children shouted in mock terror, their cheeky giggles giving away their true amusement. Chrys startled out of reflex, eyes wide as she watched the scenery take on new life around her. 

Stars. So, so many stars. 

On every post, every wall, every support beam, even the ceiling and the fake clouds dangling overhead, glow-in-the-dark stars greeted her with their nostalgic light. Never would she have thought that the cheap ones she used to have decorating the ceiling of her childhood bedroom might be able to provide any sort of substantial light, but here they were, their collective amount—and likely higher quality—creating more than enough illumination to easily see by.

“See? Right on cue.” The attendant continued. “I bet you he’s the one who finds her first. Five minutes, tops.”

“Nah, it’ll be Roxy. Fast is like her whole thing. Ten bucks.” The woman chimed in with a barking laugh.

“Ha! You’re on!”

In the background of their grating banter, a new message spoke through the intercom, pulling Chrys from the conversation.

“ATTENTION ALL GUESTS: PLEASE REMAIN IN PLACE. OUR ANIMATRONIC STAFF AND SECURITY BOTS ARE CURRENTLY INVESTIGATING. THEIR SCANS ARE FOR IDENTIFICATION PURPOSES ONLY. LOCKDOWN WILL REMAIN IN PLACE UNTIL THE MISSING CHILD IS IDENTIFIED AND RECOVERED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.”

The automated voice spoke with an ignorable note of authority, demanding obedience through command. She could only imagine how frightening this situation must be to the other children throughout the pizzaplex; To go from having the time of their lives one instant, to then finding themselves in a world of darkness and danger the next. At least the children under her responsibility seemed impervious to this, safe and secluded as they were here in the Daycare. A small blessing.

Marigold, however, could afford no such luxury. Wherever she was, odds were that she was alone, overwhelmed, without anyone to guide or comfort her. And if anyone with less than innocent intentions found her before one of the animatronics could… she closed her eyes against such a thought. The math, however, remained clear; With each minute that ticked by, the risk of this turning into a catastrophe grew. 

There had to be something she could do, anything to help speed things along. In a building this large, with all the various nooks and crannies she might have wandered into, going about this in a blind sweep would be far too tedious. Kids were masters of subverting your expectations, able to get themselves stuck in the most ridiculous of places. Pressing her palm to her forehead, Chrys dug through her memories, seeking anything notable, any sort of outlier that might give her some insight into whatever was going on in that little girl’s mind.

She’d been teary and reluctant to leave her mother when she’d arrived. Commonplace, most children suffered from some form of separation anxiety at that age. She played, she laughed, she had fun… and seemed hellbent on continually bringing up a certain ambiguous “big brother” every chance she could get. Was that the missing key? What was it she had said about him again? Something about wanting to share a pizza together, that he was some grown up that worked at some beach…

No, wait, that wasn’t it. She’d said here at the beach. Did… did she mean the pizzaplex? 

“Hey,” Chrys said, interjecting herself back into the conversation. “Is there anywhere in the Pizzaplex that’s beach themed, or, I don’t know, might be considered kinda “beach-y”? Someplace like that?”

The two attendants shared a look of confusion, glancing at the other for mutual confirmation that they’d heard her right. 

“Uh, not really.” The man replied, in a tone that made clear what he thought of her question. “The big things are the band performances, golf, the raceway…. everything else is pretty standard kid stuff, like the arcades. It ain’t really a “beach-y” kinda place, if you catch my drift.”

The woman piped in with a snap of her fingers. “Oh, hey now, isn’t one of the free zones pirate themed? They might have some beach decor or something.”

“Oh yeah, Kids Cove, right? I always forget about that place. Hasn’t it been, like, under construction or renovations for forever or something?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Internally, Chrys vibrated. It may only be a nugget, but this was more of a lead than she had thirty seconds ago, and she’d be a fool to dismiss it. 

“Yes! That’s got to be it! Marigold had said something earlier that makes me think that might be where she’s gone! We have to let someone know. How do we contact Sun? Or Moon? Is there a way we can ping them or something?” 

The pair scoffed at her. 

“Who do you think we are, Vanessa? She’s the only one with direct line access to those overpriced tin cans.” The man patted the seat between the two of them. “Listen, why not sit down and relax with us for a second? I’m sure someone will find her soon, and everything will be just fine. I promise.”

His voice dripped with a syrupy sarcasm, the kind that came across as both patronizing and belittling. In her veins, her blood boiled. A little girl was out there somewhere, likely now having the worst birthday of her life, and they weren’t willing to lift a single finger to help her? To even try?

No. Unacceptable. 

“Fine. If you won’t help me, then I’ll just go out there and find a way to tell them myself. Stay with the rest of the kids until I get back. Don’t work too hard now.”

 Without giving either of the two a chance to retort, she pivoted and left, marching her way to the entrance of the daycare, stopping only once to grab a flashlight from the charging station mounted on the wall behind the security desk before stepping beyond the gate.