Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The bedroom was almost unrecognizable, darker than what he thought was even possible. He sat up from the comforts of his bed, trying to adjust to the sheer darkness. He reached out, patting around. When the feeling of a familiar flashlight graced his fingers, he held a tight grip out of instinct, turning it on.

Wait.. that can't be right. Didn't it break back at Jeff's? After it attacked him? Oh well, maybe his memory is fooling him. Or maybe this isn't real. A dream perhaps. To test his theory, he touched where the bite would be on his left arm.. no pain occurred.

So I'm dreaming? Cool, great. That means something is out there. He flashed the light around his room, finding it mostly normal. Aside from the lack of Jinx. The boy got up, his feet padding gently on the wood, making as little noise as he possibly could. He'd make it to the window, an endless sea of void surrounding what he could see. It was a bit unnerving, the fear of the unknown, but as long as he's inside, he's safe. Right? He stepped away from the window, noticing a faint glow of a LED alarm clock he doesn't recall owning.

12am. Ok, so it's night? Why? Usually his dreams are the day: a wave of reoccurring memories, good and bad, or a dream that'd become a nightmare he could never explain less he'd make himself look crazy. But before that, his dreams of animatronics were fairly tame, normal even. But with a sense of unease, like a clairvoyant warning. Sucks the warning wasn't clear enough. Oh well, childhood trauma builds character. He recalled hearing that from somewhere, but couldn't recall. In fact.. he couldn't recall much of anything. Not even his own name, or anyone's name. Why couldn't he recall? Why can't I remember? All he could think of was that thing, and it's friends. Their names faint on the tip of his tongue, but the memories crystal clear. They hurt him. Especially that yellow rabbit. Did that thing even have a name?

He roughly shook his head. Realizing he's been standing there doing nothing. Every second he stays still, another second is given to something to get closer. He needed to move, to keep himself safe. Safe from what exactly? He doesn't know, but he doesn't feel right. He doesn't feel safe. It's wrong, all of it. All of this. Wrong. Wrong gong wrong wrong wrong-

Creak The boy froze, hearing a creak of old wood outside his bedroom door. He readied himself, padding over to the door. Each step, a wave of cold wind brushed him. A wave of danger. A warning. As if it was weakly trying to push him back. He ignored that lingering feeling. It's best to face it head on, not let it in. He grasped the door handle gently, trying to open it quietly. He flashed his light..

Why was it so dark?

His light flashed a giant, familiar bunny. But unfamiliar all at once. It was a shadow, a lingering horror he recognized on sight. He knew who that thing was. How could he not? But why was it so.. wrong. It was tall, much taller than before.. a black robot with what looks like a dark purple shine.. like an outline of sorts. A shadow creature? The teeth of this creature much sharper than before, the eyes mostly the same aside from a royal purple replacing a cyan blue, the bow tie black with dark purple stars. It had cuffs on its wrists, the purpose of said accessory could be debated, a match to the bow tie on its chest. The lower leg pieces which connects to its feet also matched..

This isn't the same rabbit.

He flashed it a couple of times, the light going on and off. It didn't even budge, let alone move. It wouldn't leave. It wouldn't go away. He opened his mouth to yell at it, but nothing but pained gasps left his lips. Why couldn't he speak? Why couldn't he even scream? What kind of dream was this? He looked back up from his drifted gaze, noticing it took a step closer. He immediately shut the door, holding it closed. He could hear faint breathing from the outside. Is it breathing? How? Is it alive? The thought terrifies him more, a lot more than it should. This is just a dream, it can't really hurt him. This isn't reality, get your head together!

He kept the door shut, hoping it didn't try prying it open. It seemed his hopes were answered as he heard the footsteps retreat, becoming distant before a door signaled its departure. He opened the door to double check, the light catching nothing. He left the door, going back to his bed.. seeing it was now 1am. What? How is it 1am? An hour didn't pass.. that couldn't have been 60 minutes. Could it? Was he losing touch on time? Hopefully not, as reality was a bit shaky in the waking world. Hallucinations haunted him, both visual and audible. Who knows when they'll stop. He took a deep breath, looking around, using his flashlight to see. It doesn't seem to have a limit anymore, which was good. The constant need to change the batteries was already a hell of its own, so unlimited protection was a blessing. Seemingly the only one he was given.

He made his way over to his closet, checking them for anything else he could possibly use. He jerked back when he checked the middle closet. Goofy, off focused eyes stares back, an all too familiar plush of a rabbit stares directly into his very soul. Why was this thing here? He didn't own a plush of it. Perhaps it was here for a reason? Maybe a sign? He'd double check the middle closet from here on out, just to be safe. He closed it gently, turning back around.. finding the door cracked open.. the bunny peaking in. He felt frozen in place for a moment, terror causing a tremor in his legs. When he snapped back into motion, he rushed over, grabbing the door, shoving his body up against it. It seemed to be working, as 5 shoves is all it took to slam the door back shut.. He held his hands against it, keeping it closed, panting heavily.

He could hear it laugh. Of course it'd laugh at him, all it ever did was laugh. A mockery, like this was just a fun little game. A game it intends to make him play, over and over, until it wins. The boy refused such an outcome, knowing its victory was taking his life. He wouldn't let it. He couldn't. Even if he liked the idea of sheer peace, he couldn't do it.. not to his parents. They loved him, they were what kept him grounded. If he wouldn't do this for himself, he'd do it for them. He checked back on the clock. 2am.

How long will this go on for? It felt like an eternity. He'd make it back to the middle of the room.. waiting. He can play, he can win. He will. He must. He listened, knowing wherever it goes, he could possibly hear. That thing was freakishly loud if close enough. He heard a tap on the window, causing his head to jerk. He saw eyes staring back.. They reflected joy, sheer manic joy. He went over, closing the blinds, holding them tight. It didn't really make sense. Why would closing the blinds get rid of it? It could still very well break in. But maybe, just maybe, this could work. Giving it a few more seconds, he'd eventually open the blinds. Nothing. Somehow it worked. He started to understand a few key points in this nightmare. Light can't exactly stall it, but hiding from it seemed to get rid of it. He walked back to the middle, repeating his process. Instead of a tap, he heard a distant laugh coming from somewhere in this place. What's so funny? I'm beating you. He thought, trying to figure out a direction. It seemed to be echoing from all over, like it was watching from above. A boardgame.

It hurt.

He took a few deep breaths, calming his nerves. It might be the sheer strength of will, but he felt confident. Stronger than it. He will win. He will survive. He isn't too sure if it could kill him in his dreams, but he wasn't one to fuck around and find out. Not anymore, at least. Not with it. He turned back to the clock. 3am. It seems to be counting seconds, not minutes. Which might be another blessing. He didn't know how long it would take, but he'd push to it. He has to. He hears shuffling from the closet. He padded over, opening the door. The plushie seemed a bit off now, reflecting the colors of the shadow creature rather than the golden creature. He didn't know which one was worse, but both weren't good. He pushed the door shut, tapping his light 5 times to count. 5 seconds. He opened, flashing his light inside. Golden. Reassuring but lacking the comfort. Better than it becoming something.

He turned over to the bed. Everything else had a gimmick.. perhaps the bed did as well? He watched with a keen gaze, not letting anything slip. But, nothing happened. Though, he did see the 3 become 4 on the clock. 4am. Great scott this is dragging on, almost unbearably so. But, what other choice does he have but to play? He's played chess a few times to learn a few key tricks. Don't give them the chance to surprise you. Don't let anything slip by. Watch with keen eyes, for their eyes watch your moves. Every move counts, despite the lack of achievement in the moment. A tap on the window. I'm playing chess, and you're playing checkers, rabbit.

He padded over, holding the blinds shut. He could do this all day, if he must. He was a stubborn player, even against his own parents. Winning wasn't a point in those times, but to him it felt good enough to try. He wasn't one to quit so easily, regardless of the lack of rewards. It's a test for him. A test to see his sheer skill. A skill he could always use against someone in a moment of risk. Risk. All of his actions are a risk. A chance to dance with death, sheer macabre to him. The fear of death drives him. A mere 5 seconds is all it takes to get rid of it.. the thought of wasting 5 seconds makes him feel uneasy. 5 seconds could be enough for it to make a move. A life taking move. He couldn't risk it.

He opened the blinds, seeing no indication that it stayed. This was his first nightmare, and it was already very active. It almost seemed unfair. It knew this game far better than he did, he'll it made the game. But it already used 3 entry points, 2 of said points it used twice. But if one player cheats, why can't the other? But the question is.. How could he cheat? Could he even? Or, he could be the better one.. playing normally. Him winning would be an even bigger middle finger to this creature. The thought made the boy even more confident. Something he very much lacked in his real life.

He took a deep breath, walking back to the middle of the room. Even if this was a dream, he still felt the punishment of running too much. His lungs felt harsh against his chest, making him wheeze. He could only make sounds, something he could only guess the creature allowed to fuel its satisfaction when it gets the chance to kill him. How nice of it. Very considerate.

He checked the time, 5am. How much longer will this go on for? Until it wins? Will his parents even know what's happening? To them, their son entered a random coma. Worse part, to his mom, this was after a whole week of odd behavior. And that bite will only solidify their suspicion of something bigger. He knew they'd question, he knew they wouldn't trust his word. But what choice did he have? Honesty wouldn't make this situation any better. In fact, it was too much of a risk. Nobody should know of it. Nobody. Maybe then, when the memory dies, so will it. Call it wishful thinking, but a kid his age should be given the hope of leisure. The relief knowing he's free from it. Whatever it is.

A dark chuckle broke him from his thoughts, driving his attention to the bed. So there is a 4th area to look out for. Great. He padded over, kneeling down to peak under the covers. The flash of light confirmed his suspension. There, bent in ways no animatronic even should be physically able to, was the rabbit. The shadow creature smiled, though his eyes seemed to show irritation. Ignoring the fact it could possibly feel and think thoughts of its own, it thinking it has the mere right to be irritated was laughable. You're trying to kill me. If anything, I should be irritated. Not you.

He flashed it continuously, unsure how else he could get rid of it. It covered its eyes, shrinking down before the light began to flicker.. when it flicked back on, it was gone. Ha. Much like its old self, light was a weakness. Though, only under the bed. The boy couldn't understand how that worked. But he couldn't be bothered to care. It worked. That's what mattered.

As he stood up, a loud sound blasted in his ears. Beep. Beep. Beep. He stood up, disoriented, wobbly on his own feet. When he turned, the clock showed a number he'd note to be his grace. 6am. Before he knew it, he jerked up.. finding his room now graced with light. It was morning? He looked over, seeing no LED clock was there. Welp, it was nice having it while he did. At least he could now remember his name.

Oswald got up from his bed, looking over to find Jinx on his bed, yawning. He probably woke her up..

“Hey.. sorry, didn't mean to wake ya.” He spoke gently to her, petting behind her ears. She meowed, stretching before going over to the edge where he stood.

“Oswald! Breakfast!” His mom called from the kitchen. Her voice allowed him to ease into a state of security. He was alive, awake and alive. The nightmare was over, and he can rest now. The pain of yesterday could be ignored for now, as the sweet smell of bacon began to lure him to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

The smell of bacon intensified as he walked into the kitchen, seeing his mom preparing a nice breakfast. Usually it was meant for a special occasion when she made big breakfasts like this, so he got a little excited under his tiredness.

“Wow, mom. What's the occasion?” He spoke softly, walking over to sneak a bacon. Despite seeing his hand reach the plate of finished bacon, she let him. She'd usually playfully swat and tell him to wait. But she didn't even move to touch him, allowing the bacon to be stolen. This made him tilt his head.

“Oh- Morning, sleepyhead. Decided to take the day off, make sure you're alright. Did you sleep alright?” She smiled, a small look of concern in her eyes. Oswald looked at what she was cooking instead: Pancakes, eggs, and extra bacon. Perfection.

“Yeah, I slept alright.” He returned a smile. He wasn't going to mention any nightmares. As if his injury wasn't a nightmare enough.

“That's good.. I've been worried about your broken sleep schedule lately. You were becoming a vampire for a while.” She chuckled, but Oz knew it wasn't from the comical aspects of it. She was genuinely worried.

“Haha.. yeah.. sorry. School stress and all.” He wasn't entirely lying. School was stressful, especially now that he was in middle school. The stress will probably get worse after his suspension period.. punching someone is a horrible way to get people to like you. Not that he cared. One friend, if Gabrielle would still willingly be his friend, was enough. He'd understand if she wouldn't though.. Jeez, if only Ben were here.

“I'd imagine, being a fresh 6th grader sounds tough. But don't worry too hard, hun, it gets easier.” As easy as it can get after everyone in school watched you sock a kid in the stomach. He nodded, despite knowing it'll be a long while till that point. He still hasn't even told his parents why he was suspended. He knew it would come up, might as well take it easy until then.

“Well, your dad is in the dining room. I'll bring your plates in a sec.” She went back to cooking the eggs. Oswald peered over to the already done plates.

“I could take them.” he reached over. But before he could even grab them, a gentle nudge pushed him back.

“Nuh uh, nope. Not with that arm you're not. No handling anything for the first few days. Don't wanna risk anything.” She motioned for him to simply go to the kitchen.

“But-”

“No buts, young man. I can handle it.” She gave him a kiss on his forehead before turning him toward the dining room door.

“Ok.. fineee..” He huffed, opening the door. He was relieved, seeing his father reading the paper at his usual seat. My real dad. Upon noticing Oz, he set the paper down, ushering him over..

“Mornin, bud. Come over, got somethin’ cool to show you.” Oz tilts his head, going over to sit next to the man. Dad pushed the paper over for Oz to read. The sight made his stomach churn..

‘Grand opening for a brand new, rebuilt Freddy Fazbear's Toy emporium. After several years, after closure in 1987, Toy Freddy and the gang have been rebuilt and shall sing for Hurricane once again! Come join us at the grand opening on September 21st. Children under 15 get a free pizza!’

No. No. No no no no no no-

“Isn't that great? They're finally going to open something fun in town. While, not exactly a place for me or your mother.. maybe you can find some entertainment. Beats sitting around Jeff's huh?” He spoke, an odd look coming over his face. What was that? Oswald shook his head. While yes, he wouldn't want to go to Jeff's alone for a long while, a Freddy's location would be the last place he'd go. Haven't they learned the first time? This place is bound to have some odd atrocities occur.

“Uh..”

“Yeah- maybe you're a little old for uh- these guys. Just thought, since you drew them, maybe seeing some in real life could cheer you up a lil.” He oddly brushed it off immediately, going to the next page. What was up with him? He never noticed his father having any sort of negative attitude toward animatronics. At least, not to his drawings. Maybe he knew something. The door opened, his mother carrying three plates into the room. Rather impressive that she could balance three full plates.

“Oh, thanks Sheryl.” The man smiled as his plate gently sat in front of him, Oswald barely acknowledging his own plate. His mind was reeling. Grand opening. Grand opening. Grand-

“Oz? You uh- good there, hun?” He yelped loudly as a hand brushed his back.. the room going dead silent. He blinked, his eyes darting back and forth between his mom and dad, noticing looks of concerns directed at him.

“S- sorry.. sorry. I was.. lost in thought. I didn't even see you come in.” He chuckled, trying to laugh it off. Please don’t ask, please don't ask, please.

“Oh. Must've had a rough time sleeping then, huh?” Dad asked, eating a piece of egg. I can work with this.

“Uh- I slept fine. Must still be sleepy.” He couldn't change his answer from earlier, so he did his best to add on it instead. His mom nods. Good.

“Yeah, I get ya. Full nights of sleep makes you more tired when you wake up. It's awful.” She eats her own food. The room went back to the earlier emotion, allowing Oswald to ease back in his seat, focusing on his bacon. It was nice, having a nice and slow morning. Especially after.. that ordeal. He liked this; Dad reading the paper, his mom drinking her warm coffee. What more could one ask for?

"Huh, more families are moving in. You might see loads of new kids at school, kiddo. Maybe you can make some more friends.” Ever since Ben moved away, Oz hasn't really made many friends. Mostly by choice. He'd occasionally talk to someone here and there, but he actively kept to himself. Though, Gabrielle is sorta a friend. Hopefully, at least. She's pretty cool, a sorta reminder to Ben. But that's mostly it.. and he'd rather eat garbage than make friends with Dylan. It'd feel like a sign of defeat.

“I don't know, maybe.” He shrugged, hoping that'd be enough to make dad happy, as he's always wanted him to be more social. The mere thought makes him sick.

“Need a lil' more confidence than that, bud!” He chuckles, that laugh he always does. Before, it was a bit annoying.. but Oz has grown to like it. It's unique to him, and better than another laugh he's heard far too many times in a single week. That.. garbled laugh.. probably the worst sound he's ever heard.

“I think I have the right amount of confidence, thank you very much.” He met his sass quota for the day, reaching and taking a single bacon from his dad. The bigger man laughed in response, taking a single bacon from the boy.

“You two are so goofy.” Mom chuckled, sipping her coffee. Oz would occasionally steal a sip every now and then.. as much as they'd let slip that is.

“Can I have some?” He tested the waters, slowly reaching. Only to have his wrist pushed gently away.

“Nuh uh, no 10 year old needs coffee, bud. Trust me, this stuff can become quite addictive.” Dad was right, but on the other hand.. one sip couldn't hurt. Beats sleeping. Dreams were practically nonexistent the past few days, nightmares now a constant.. But, he can't argue against him. Too suspicious to show a sudden need for caffeine.

“Yeah, caffeine is very unhealthy. Heart problems, blood pressure. Y'know." Mom added, using her nurse wisdom. Typical, but the more he knew the better. The new levels of anxiety toward death was enough to make the boy revisit every short lesson his mother has given him throughout the years.

“Let it be you to add medical trivia to our convos, Sheryl.” Dad gave her a soft peck. “Eeew, not in front of my bacon, dad!” Oz joked, eating the last piece he had. Sad.

“Ok ok, I won't offend your precious bacon, Oz.” He ruffled the boy's hair.

“Oswald? Like the wizard!” “Wizard?” “Of Oz of course!”

“Oz?” The boy snapped out of.. something.. when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Oh, I must've zoned out again.

“Oh- sorry. I uh.. zoned out. I'm all good.” He gave the best reassuring smile he could. It seemingly worked as his dad returned said smile and went back to eating. Oswald returned to his own plate.. Man, he almost forgot. Chip and Mike, the shortest lived friendship he's ever had. They were really cool, sucks they're from the 80s. He couldn't help but wonder if they were alive, somewhere out there, probably with their own families. Oh well, I had as much fun as I could. That's good enough.. I think. Immediately brushing away the sudden thought of going back to the pit to see. Nope. Never. Not happening. Never again.

The morning was relatively slow, Oz simply watching TV as his parents did some house chores. Despite his desire to help, he was refused and sat on the couch. He sat there, looking over the sketchbook Gabrielle gave him, reading over the notes. His mind began to wander back to his dad's face when he talked about the grand opening. Why was he so quick to change the subject? He seemed a bit hesitant to talk about it.. it was odd. Did he remember Freddy's? That couldn't be possible, he didn't remember anything when he woke up. Maybe he remembered something else.. He was alive during the runtime of Freddy's, surely he knew something about it. He didn't think he could pry something from him.. it wouldn't be right. Not after the stunt he pulled. He felt.. horrible. But then he thought back. That Freddy mask that fell from the attic. Perhaps he was aware of Freddy's, at least from when he was a kid. Maybe he knew of the incident? Perhaps that was a stretch. He shook his head. Freddy's, for the most part, was a subject long overstayed in his mind. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore, nothing at all. He had better things to think of.. like the movie he was watching. What was he even watching?

He looked up, seeing a familiar robot on screen. Zendrelix vs Mechazendrelix. He wasn't paying attention, sucks.. cause he loved this movie. But he couldn't help but think. Think, think, think. He wished he could just not think. Every time he has, he just goes back to Freddy's. He wanted to think of anything else, but hypothetical after hypothetical made his head spin. An uncontrollable line of thoughts flood through. One just leads to another. A rhythm of sorts, a continuous cycle. A painful cycle that'd continue on forever, likely. The thought made him feel.. nauseous. His head pounding, he barely noticed a wet feeling on his cheek. When did I start crying? He wiped his face with the back of his hand, setting it on his knee. His eye drifted to a black substance.

“What the..” he couldn't help but speak to himself, bringing his hand closer. That couldn't be right.. Why were his tears black? It brought him back to seeing the rabbit strung up on the straps of the ball pit. Its tears were also black.. or at least- what he assumed were tears. Who knew what that stuff could be.. What it could be. He snapped back into reality when the door creaked open, his dad walking through. He immediately wiped his hand on his jacket.

“Hey, bud. You doin’ alright?” He asked, taking a seat on the couch.

“Oh- uh. Yeah. I'm good.” Oswald smiled, looking up at his dad.

“So, I uh.. found the ladder broken in the basement. You know how that happened?” He looked over at his son. Oh right, the ladder.

“Ladder?” Oswald decided to play oblivious, unsure how he even could explain that. Oh yeah, the rabbit broke it after I used it to escape the basement. He doubted his dad would believe him, thinking the kid broke it and just decided to lie about it. Like he'll I'd take the fall for that thing.

“The old ladder I used to get up to the roof. Y'know, to clean the gutters?” He questioned yet again, Oswald couldn't tell if he believed his obliviousness or not. He played more into it

“Oh, yeah. The ladder. Last I saw it, it was in the attic.” He looked at the sketchbook in hand, the brand new page begging to be doodled on. Thankfully dad didn't see the other pages.

“Attic? What were you doing up there?” Crap.

“Oh.. well, I got bored and explored a bit. I didn't find anything of interest, but I do remember seeing the ladder. I don't remember how long ago that was.” He sat back, taking a pencil from the table next to the couch chair. He doodles mindlessly.

“Huh.. maybe I moved it at some point and forgot. Oh well.. ‘bout time we got a new one.. it was Hella loud last I used it.” Oh, tell me about it. Even walking with it made loads of noises. It wasn't pleasant, finding a path around to avoid being cornered with a ladder. That creature hated noise. That, or it took joy hearing the boy was near and zoning in on him. Doesn't matter, weird either way.

“We would have to go to the market some time for a new ladder..” He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, take it easy, alright? Make sure your arm is well rested on the pillow.. I'll be in the basement cleaning up a bit, alright? Holler if you need anything..”

“Alright Alright, I get it dad. I'll be ok.” Oswald laughed a little, waving off his father. He felt embarrassed, being babied by his parents, but he understood what they were probably thinking. He didn't mind it, terribly at least. It felt nice, getting some comfort from his dad. It reminded him that he was safe. Safe from it. His father walked out of the room, leaving the boy to return to his drawings. Oh, I was drawing, wasn't I? Oswald looked over his sketch a bit more. It was a giant bear, but not Freddy.. it looked like a mascot he'd find at that one place with the mouse. What was that place called? He recalled he went once, then it shut down and he never saw them again. Oh well. He wore a hat and bow tie, just like Freddy.. But had a goofy face, lazy eyes, and a more rounder build. It was weird. Why did he draw this? It looked way too detailed for something he did mindlessly. Maybe he was really that bored. He closed the sketch book, moving slowly off the couch.

The bite was still really sore. He remembered the trip to the house, immediately turning to a trip to the hospital. It was bad.

Blood soaked through his jacket, drenching the sleeve. It turned a much darker color, almost black. Dad was on the phone with mom, talking to her about who knows what.. He wasn't paying attention. His vision was starting to spin a little, a bit blurry. His mind couldn't focus, dazed, overcoming all coherent thought. He didn't know just how bad it was, the adrenaline of narrowly escaping death numbed it a bit.

Everything else was a blurr.. he remembered waking up during the ride back. His mom explained the amnesia would wear off by morning. Then he drifted back to sleep. He was given Tylenol before watching TV, so the soreness wasn't too bad. It was so weird. He never had an injury like his arm before, so everything was new. He'd have to clean it daily, replace the bandages.. and he wasn't looking forward to that. Every night before bed. Later surely isn't going to be fun. But thankfully mom was here, so she'd know how to do it. He looked back up, bored out of his mind.. the boredom making him tired.

He yawned, setting the sketchbook away, getting comfortable. He didn't want to sleep, trying to focus on the movie.. but that only made him more tired.. Eventually, he drifted to sleep..

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sheryl.. do you think that- something is.. off?” The man spoke, throwing a piece of the old ladder into a box. It was sad to see the old ladder go, it's been in the family before Oswald was even born. It was like losing an old toy.

“What do you mean, Stephen?” Sheryl was looking through the old shelves, pushing boxes to the side to get to the back.

“I don't know.. I mean.. since when was it August 18th? How did I even miss Oswald's first day of school.. My job even said I've missed five whole days of work. I just- I don't understand what happened.” Stephen sat there for a moment, staring into the box of broken ladder pieces.

“That's.. weird. You seemed normal to me, a little quiet but.. you were still here.” Sheryl walked over to her husband, sitting down next to him, hoping to comfort him. He leaned onto her, his eyes not moving from their glued position.

“I just.. maybe I'm just losing time awareness. Probably from work stress and what not. But.. that doesn't exactly tell me why five whole days passed. Was I that out of it? I didn't even take the first day photo for Oz, or even.. work.” He kept his breathing leveled, despite his mind reeling in distress. Something wasn't right, there was no way it could be. He remembered it being August 12th. He remembered dropping Oz off, going to work, going back for Oz.. then nothing. But he woke up, finding Oz with a horrific bite on his arm.. his car parked in a different lot, and a strange thing wrapped up above the ball pit. That wasn't there when he supposedly tripped. He also didn't remember everything in his pocket, somehow, going into Oz Oswald's pocket. How could five whole items jump from his pocket? Or technically four, as his wedding ring is always on his finger. Or, how his phone also ended up in Oswald's pocket. It didn't add up, not at all.

“Huh, I honestly.. I don't know. Though, I have been noticing Ozwald acting odd between those days. Saying odd things like.. how you were replaced by a giant yellow rabbit and.. something.” If a sudden realization could make a sound, it would be a click. And Stephen was having a lot of those clicking sounds ringing in his mind.

“Giant.. yellow rabbit?” He looked at her, his eyes finally leaving the hyper focus on the ladder. Sheryl looked at him.

“Yeah, something about it was.. weird. I thought he was joking around, since he drew that yellow rabbit a few times.” She noticed his eyes, their laser focus on her.

“Sheryl. When I went to pick Oswald up, there was a giant yellow rabbit animatronic hanging from straps in the old ball pit room.” He paused..

“but.. no.. it couldn't be..” He looked back down toward the floor. There was no way, no possible way. Unless..

“What? What couldn't be?” Sheryl placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Spring Bonnie.” He mumbled. He knew it looked familiar, he just couldn't focus at the time. His head was pounding, Oz was bleeding.. there were more important things to think of when he woke up. But, going back to that memory now.. It just clicked in place, like a jigsaw piece connecting to a larger puzzle. He was missing so many pieces, he didn't know if he could even complete it. All signs point to Oz holding said pieces, why he wasn't saying anything was the scariest part. Oswald's odd deflecting, his hyper tensions, his injury. Everything was wrong here.

“Spring Bonnie? Like.. that yellow rabbit from the 80s? Didn't he get locked up with.. y'know.” She couldn't say the name, not near him. The memory of that day, the scent and sight, lingered even years later. It was a sensitive part of Stephen's life.. she knew it very clearly. Her mind wasn't too cleared of it either.. She remembered standing out in the cold, watching the emergency vehicles pile in the lot. Her mother freaking out, unsure how to even explain to her daughter what she just witnessed.

She remembered seeing him walk out of the restaurant, Freddy mask in hand. He was wrecked with guilt ever since.. She tried her hardest to give as much comfort as she could, hearing him usher one coherent sentence among his jumbled others.

“I'm never coming back here..”

“Yes. He was.. but- how was he there.. I thought he'd be worn down to bolts and screws by now. I.. I was hoping they both would. That- that they all would. It would be the best result.” He noticed his voice was starting to shake, taking deep breaths to focus on keeping it coherent. Keeping himself grounded was key.

“Sheryl.. you said- you said that bite.. on his arm.. couldn't be from a dog?” He looked at her.

“Yeah- I.. it- it isn't possible for a dog to cause 2 full rows of different shaped teeth.” She sat back, thinking back on how the bite looked when she first saw it. She thought of a few things at the time. How could this possibly happen? What bit him? This was really bad.

“Different shapes?”

“Yeah.. the first row were rectangles- like straight square teeth. The second were punctures from much sharper teeth. They were perfectly separated and lined up.. that.. it wouldn't be possible if he were bit twice. If he was, they would've been differently placed, unless he kept his arm perfectly still. Even then, they were so different from each other that it didn't make sense he'd be bit by a dog. It would have to be something else. Not to mention that square teeth are herbivores.” She realized she went on a small tangent. She cleared her throat.

“You don't think.. he got bit by.. the robot- do you?” That made the couple silent. It couldn't mean that. It just couldn't. He wouldn't live with himself if his own son got bit by one of those monstrosites. Not after.. not after the first. He refused to allow it again. The whole reason he worked at the steel mill was to prevent this from ever happening again. When it closed, he was partly relieved, now knowing the town wouldn't take any more robots. But.. Now Freddy's is opening another stupid restaurant, the town will likely be riddled with yet another tragedy. All that place brings is tragedy. One after another, year after year. It's a cycle. A constant. The place was cursed. 83’, 85’, 87’ Not even a whole year of grief between them until another tragedy reared its ugly head to remind the town that happiness wasn't something Freddy's planned to bring. Not for anyone. If it did, it was likely a temporary release before another life was taken. How many was it now? So many lives, so many grieving families. It all still remained. No memory forgotten amongst the families that remained.

“..Stephen.” He was brought back by gentle arms around him. Sheryl, oh what would he do without her. He hugged her tightly.. as if she could vanish if he didn't hold her.

“We have to talk to him.. If.. if he got bit- by that rabbit.. I- god.. it's like they're haunting me, Sheryl. First that.. that bear. Now its partner is punishing me.” His voice trembled. The fear of that rabbit taking the frontal lobe of his boy shook him. To the bear, it would be comedic justice.

You tainted my reputation, took the life of a child. Now, it's only right I take yours.

He took several deep breaths, calming himself down enough to breathe on a somewhat steady frequency.

“It's alright.. it's going to be alright. I know you wouldn't let it happen. And it won't. Trust me, Stephen.. Oswald will be alright.” Her voice was always a comforting presence, even if he wasn't outwardly stressing himself out. He calmed down, sighing softly as his chest started to ease.

“It can't happen again.. not agian. I can't.. I can't let it happen.” He promised.. not exactly just to Sheryl, but to himself. He would not allow another 83’ to happen, by any means necessary if he must.

“I.. I don't think we can let Oz near that place. It just- I can't trust it.” He looked at the box of broken metal. If only their metal could be as broken as the ladder.

“I think it's safe to say he won't anyway. When I showed him the paper, he didn't seem too fond of ‘em.” He remembered the look on his boy's face. But.. now that he knows something was off.. that face only solidified his lingering anxiety. He seemed scared, way too scared to be a simple fear. He seemed to pale at the mere sight of them, disassociated soon after. He was afraid of them.. unlike before. He drew them, and was proud of them.. now he seemed to be freaked out of the mere thought of them being around.

They sat there in silence for a few moments.. listening to the distant sound of the pipes in the walls. Before something clicked within Stephen's mind yet again.

“Wait.. wait hold on. You said Oz was telling you I was replaced? By that rabbit?” He looked over, seeing the gears going through her head at the question.

“Yea.. now thinking back, he called me one night, telling me it was an emergency. I came home and he ran over to me, shaking like a leaf.. He said you were replaced by a rabbit. I thought he was pulling a prank so I just went back to work. You walked out so, I thought you were ok.. for five days straight he's been saying it.. calling me on occasion.” She seemed lost in thought as she spoke, recalling all of the calls.

“One call was… weird.” She recalled, looking at the floor.

“What was weird about it?” He looked at her distant eyes, a little worried.

“It was garbled noises.. a weird, distorted laugh. It sounded familiar but I don't remember where I heard it. It continued for a few minutes until it stopped. I could've sworn I heard someone talking.”

“Did you make anything out?” This was starting to paint an odd picture.

“It was a bit jumbled. But, I heard something about rebuilding a family. But.. that was it.” She scratched the back of her neck, thinking as hard as she could to remember the call. It was.. the strangest call she's ever received, so why couldn't she remember..

“That's.. weird. Are you sure it was from Oswald?”

“Yeah, your name popped up, and he's somehow had your phone for the week.”

“Yeah, he gave it back. But.. I don't exactly get how he got it, I didn't even notice it was gone at all. I don't even remember seeing it gone..” He was even more confused now. None of it made any sense to him, and the more he's told the less sense it makes.

“Maybe we should talk to him..”

“Yeah, maybe.. but let's give him a day or two to recover first. He seems on edge..”

“Hm.. alright, I can wait.. I just hope he'll be honest with us. I wanna help him, I really do.. sometimes it seems he's.. I don't know.. afraid? I.. I can't make it out, but I know he lied when I tried asking. He worries me..” He hugged himself, thinking back on last night.

“Oswald.. this- this is bad- really.. really bad. What.. What caused this? A.. dog? A bear.. what..” He was panicking. This was the worst injury he's seen on his own kid. He's seen his fair share of scratches, a sprained ankle.. but this? What does he do with this? He wasn't a nurse.

“I.. it.. it's uh.. a dog.” He saw his kid's eyes darting anywhere except toward him. The clear sign of a lie.. why Oz would like something of this degree, he couldn't even try to guess.

“Oz.. this..” He didn't want to overwhelm his clearly distressed son, so he let it slide. Just this once.

“Come on..” He gently lifted his boy, holding onto him tight, making sure to be as careful with his arm as possible. He made his way outside.

“Dad.. where are we going?”

“To see your mom.. you need someone more qualified than me, bud.”

“Dad, it's ok- really.. we don't need a hospital- really.. we.. we can't afford-”

“Don't worry about the money, Oz. It'll be ok.”

“But-”

“No buts.. it'll be a quick in and out, ok?” He knew it wouldn't be quick, but whatever it takes to ease his boy. He'd do it in a heartbeat.

“We.. We have to take it slow. If we push too hard, he'll push back harder.” Sheryl warned. Stephen knew that too well, his kid was a bit sassy already. Hell, he had his moments of angsty rebellion. But this was different. But, he knew better than to overwhelm his kid with questions. Especially after getting stitches the night before. As agonizing as waiting is, he has to take it slow.

For him.

Chapter Text

A distant sound of a grandfather clock rang throughout the house, startling the boy awake. He evened his rapid breathing, his ears picking up the sound of soft crackling of burning embers. He looked in front of him, noticing a fireplace, the smell of burning wood filling his senses. He sat up from the couch chair, eyes moving around the unfamiliar room.
The odd blue striped wall, the bottom half brown striped, the sun clock, the TV showing a show he's never seen before. He doesn't know if dreaming of locations he's never been before was possible. He stands corrected. The question that remains was.. where was he?

He walked around the chair, taking in more of his surroundings. Nothing seemingly of note, except the door at the end of the room. Testing it, he found he was locked in. Wonderful.
He looked around the room, moving things, searching cushions.. but nothing of use was found. He sat on the couch, quite defeated, slouching down until his legs were completely off the couch chair. Then, he spotted it. A key hanging from a painting hung on the stone of the fireplace. Huh, he didn't notice that before.
He got up, carefully climbing the fireplace, needing to move a few things to tower up. But, he still couldn't reach.
He needed something else.

He looked beside the fireplace, seeing a large vase with umbrellas and tools he assumed were for the fire. Jumping down, he searched the vase, a small ha escaping his lips as he brought out a fire poker.
Getting back up, he reached and knocked the key to the floor. His breath hitched as metal thud broke the silent room.
Waiting, he held the poker tightly in his hand, expecting something to come. But nothing did.
Assuming safety, he got down, taking the key and keeping the poker for a weapon.

The key was a perfect fit, opening the door to a vast hallway. Dark.. very very dark. He decided to be slow and steady, looking out the windows to his side, nothing but an empty void stares back. What was this place? Some nightmare realm?
Nah, that's dumb.
Too dumb, even for his standards. Which.. included a time traveling ball pit. Maybe anything is possible at this point. The stuff he's seen the last week was all sorts of abnormal. The weirdness of this nightmare was nothing. Nothing compared to that.
He finally reached the end of the hall, opening the door to a foyer room.

The room had the grandfather clock that woke him up, a bookshelf, a stand with 4 drawers next to the front door, a closet, a.. frankly ugly rug leading the front door to the dining room on the other side of the room. A staircase on the opposite end where the boy stood.. another room leading to a living room.
The other room must've been a study or something. This house seems pretty nice.. aside from the void outside. The boy explores a bit, pulling out a book from the shelf, placing the poker against the shelf.
An odd name on the cover, a name he didn't recognize. Who the hell is William? He pulled book after book, seeing various names. Were these autobiographies? Who keeps books on random people?
He froze as he got to one particular name.. Oswald Philips.

OK. That's weird.

He opened the book, his curiosity peaked. It was a complete record of his life, all the way back to the day he was born.. even details from the pit incident. He noticed it was rather short, most pages were empty. Well, I'm only 10, I shouldn't expect much.
He placed the book back, looking through more books.. finding nobody else of interest. He stood back up, deciding to check something else out.
Searching the drawers of the stand, he finds a crumbled piece of paper. Opening the worn paper, he finds a crude drawing of what looked like an owl.. Large red wing-like appendages covered most of it.. the head looking oddly stretched out and deformed, large eyes with scribbled irises. Did a 5 year old draw this?
The wings looked odd, very odd.. a bit unnerving. It seemed almost fleshy, with bits hanging off from it. Like melted flesh, like it was some kind of living creature. Or a mockery of a living creature. Either answer didn't sit well with the boy.
Hopefully he won't meet that thing anytime soon.
He sat the crude drawing back into the drawer, closing it. He continued his search for anything of use, walking into the living room.. Upon entry, a sudden record scratch sound scared him into place..

The music was warped, a low dragging tone warped the song slightly. But, despite the quality, he could still make out the instrumental.
A somewhat cherry violin, another background instrument the boy couldn't make out.. It sounded familiar, but he didn't recognize it.. until it started.

‘On the farm.. every Friday.’
‘On the farm.. it's rabbit pie day.’

Oz stared at the record as if the record spoke a crude joke at his expense. Was this funny? Is this some type of sick joke?
It felt like a mockery, a horrible mockery made to poke fun at his trauma. He stormed over, about to shut it off.. until he realized something odd.
His hands.. They were soft, a brown fur replacing his usual peachy skin. He freaked out, looking himself over, feeling an odd weight on his head. Reaching up, trembling hands touched two long rabbit ears.
Since when!? What!? How!?
Two distant footsteps told him all he needed to know. The song, the change, this was a game.
He dashed behind the couch, listening to the sounds of boots coming closer. A creak made his heart stop.

“So every Friday that ever comes around..
I get a bunny, and sing this little song.”

He peaked over, his eyes widened in sheer terror. Standing tall in the middle of the room was a man.. wielding a shotgun. He looked unfamiliar to the boy, but those eyes and toothy grin said it all. The yellow rabbit switched the roles around. Now, the boy was a small rabbit, and the creature was a taller man.
What kind of sick joke is this!?

“Run rabbit, Run Rabbit..”

He slowly turned, spotting the peeping bunny from across the room..

“Run, run, run..”

As if he was being told, he follows the beat of the threat and runs. He struggled, unable to run correctly with his new legs. But once he understood, he found himself rushing through the door. He ran out of the foyer and into the dining room, hiding underneath the table. He found the table to be a rather good spot, with the odd yet long table cloth that shielded him. But he couldn't help but think he was forgetting something..
The hunter walked in, still singing a song that would forever be ruined for the boy..

“Run, rabbit.. Run, Rabbit.. Run run run..”
“Bang, bang, bang, bang, goes the farmer's gun..”

The man cocked the gun, ready to pull the trigger when he could. This guy is having fun, isn't he? He'd hear his singing becoming distant, signaling his departure.. and the boy's temporary safety.
The small rabbit came out from under the table, seeing the door to what he assumed would be the kitchen wide open. So that's where the man went. Leaving back to the foyer, he still hears that stupid record playing the song. He had to leave it on.. otherwise the man would know he was in this direction. Looking over to the shelf, he saw the poker broken into pieces.
Oh, so the rabbit can be armed, but Scott forbid I can too? Ignoring the song and frankly unfair rules, the boy made his way upstairs, looking around for any room he could sit this game out.

Every room he tried at the start of the hall was locked, except one room at the far end.. leading to the bedroom from his nightmare before. Cool. Great.
He checked the LED clock at the bedside table, showing an earth shattering 12am.
Lovely, so the time spent in the study was what? An intro?
He huffed, going under the bed to stay, hearing the song play through the floorboards.

‘Don't give his farmer his fun, fun, fun.’
‘he'll get by without his rabbit pie’
‘So, run rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run’

He held his rabbit ears down to his head, trying any means to block out the song. Then, he heard a record scratch..
The song restarted.
The boy rolls his eyes, sitting under the bed and waiting. Loud thuds come up the stairs, taking its sweet time to reach the top. It was taunting him.

“Silly, silly boy.. Waiting only sets you up for failure. I get closer every second you spend under that bed.”

The hunter walked into the bedroom, slowly crossing the room until he stood at the foot of the bed. This isn't fair. This is so not fair!

“It's plenty fair.. hiding from me only prolongs the inevitable, child.”

He reached under the bed, grabbing the boy by his ears, dragging him out. The boy made an odd squeaking sound, the sound of a distressed rabbit.
The man laughed, aiming the gun right at the bunny. This isn't fair!
The boy kicks out, landing a hit right to the man's stomach. With a loud grunt, the man threw the bunny to the side, holding his stomach.

“You.. you.. insolent.. brat!”

Not wasting a second, the bunny bolts out the room.. making his way back downstairs.
Holy fuck Holy fuck Holy fuck.
He rushed to the third door, opening it, finding a winding staircase down to what could only be a basement. Yeah no, ain't doing that.
He instead ran to the dining room, going to the kitchen. Nothing, utterly nothing to use!

“It's useless to fight it! To fight what is fate! Come back to me and accept your role, child!”

Oh great. He's pissed.

“Watch your mouth..”

The boy covered his ears. He wasn't even safe in his mind! This game couldn't possibly be fair!

“You? Safe? In your mind? You have no clue what you've done, do you?”

His breath hitched as the sound of boots coming closer. He looked around desperately, finding solace inside a cupboard. He clasped his hands, technically paws, over his mouth.

“This place.. is no longer your mind. It's ours now.. Our home, Oz. Don't you see it yet? The blackness in your body? The turmoil in your mind? It's all part of a process.. We will be together, until the very last breath leaves you upon your death bed.”

He covered his ears. Stop! Stop talking!

“It's you and me now, child. Father and son.. No more false parents, no more friends.. nobody. It's fate, son. Now quit being difficult, and come to me.. Come to your father..”

No! No no no! You're not my dad! Stop!

“Very well.. if you wish to continue being difficult, you'll only lengthen your suffering. Don't you wish to be happy? For life to be more exciting? You wanted this. You begged for this. You're simply being ungrateful.”

The hunter walked into the kitchen, looking around for the boy. He opened up the pantry, some empty cupboards. Each step sent a tremor through the boy's body.

“Come out, come out wherever you are.. This game is getting old..”

The creature grew impatient, grumbling in annoyance under its breath. Could it breathe? It sounds like it could. But the boy knew better. This thing wasn't alive.

“Oh, how utterly hurtful, Ozzie. That's no way to think of your father.”

The boy's expression soured. You aren't my dad, quit saying that.

“Oh.. Oz.. how you continue to deny the truth. It frightens me how dense you are.”

The boy was relieved, hearing the hunter leave. He could hear him roam. Slowly, the boy left the cupboard, looking for a clock of sorts. Finding none, he crept through the dining room, then to the foyer, going over to the grandfather clock. 2am.
Was time slower? He could've sworn the hour passed every 60 seconds, the night being roughly 6 minutes long. Why was it slower now?

“I just want more time with you, my boy.. is that so wrong?”

The boy's head jerked, spotting the man at the living room doorway. The man chuckled, taking aim.

Bang

The rabbit narrowly avoided the bullet, rushing upstairs. Loud bangs rung in his ears as the man attempts to shoot at him.
The boy knew guns were loud, but he didn't think it was this loud. It caused his ears to ring unbearably, causing soft whimpers of pain.
He rushed to the bedroom, hiding in the closet. The hunter rushed in, lifting the blanket up, peeping under the bed. This felt like an endless cycle..

“Oh where, oh where, could Oz have gone?”

It sang playfully, moving about the room with a goofy stride, clearly messing with the boy. Do you think you're funny?

“Oh, please.. I was a riot in my heyday. Children rushed to the stage to see me perform.. I was big! Front page of the paper! Then.. your sad excuse of a ‘father’ and his stupid friends came and crashed it all.”

What.. What are you talking about..?

“Aw.. poor, lil’ Oz. Left in the dark.. Your father is as big of a fool, as he is a liar. His legacy was fated to fade into disgrace. All of them were."

The creature spoke with a heavy disdain, as if the mere thought of the other man was an insult to it. Which only made the boy more confused. Like this creature had any right to think of his father that way. Last I checked.. it was the one hurting him.

“You think of him with such high regard. You think your dad is a saint? Foolish, and to think you'd know better, trusting mindlessly. He should be the last man to have your trust.. your love. It's sad.. but I can help you.”

He made his way to the set closets.
Like I need your help..

“Oh.. but Oz.. you do! You need it so badly. You've been digging with a worn down shovel, when I had a bright and shiny one ready for you. There is just one tiny, Itty bitty thing you need to do..”

The closet doors creaked open slowly, filling the darkness with moonlight, a shadow cast over the boy. The boy looked up, terror meeting manic.

“Trust in me.”

The man reached in, picking up the small bunny, ignoring the shot gun momentarily. He held the bunny, petting it gently, as if he was made of glass.

“You must be so scared..”

The rabbit kicked, but couldn't manage to land a harsh strike in his position. He had to wait for an opening. Peering over at the clock, seeing the 5am was almost reassuring. If only he knew how long until 6am. If he can just stall a little longer..
The man reached down, picking up the gun that was leaning against the wall.

“Poor, Oz.. couldn't find a better spot to save your life. Staying in that cupboard could've worked. Maybe.. But, it doesn't matter. I always know where you are.”

He walked out of the room, a tight hold on the small rabbit, an arm around his neck, careful as to not choke him. That would be too easy for the man. He had class after all. Standards.

“Such a shame.. losing isn't always easy to accept for a child your age. But, it's alright.. not everyone is born a winner.”

Instead of the kitchen, the hunter brought the bunny down the hallway, toward the study.
Why are we going there?

“Shhh.. don't think. Thinking only gives you ideas. Just relax, it will be quick.”

He opened the door, bringing the bunny to the middle of the room.. setting him down. Regardless of how much he tried the move, the boy couldn't convince his legs to work. What's happening- what did you do!?

“Relax. It will be ok.. take a deep breath.. and count to 10.”

The hunter cocked the shut gun, taking aim.

“Count with me..”

The barrel of the gun was like peering into a black hole, nothing but darkness and the clear sign of a possibly painful death. But that was the mystery of black holes.. you don't know if it will be quick or painful, only speculations and a harsh sting of fear.
If only the boy didn't have to think much about it. He never had to consider if he was going to die painfully.. his parents were always with him, so he felt safe as is. But now.. he couldn't even move to save himself. It was a horrible feeling.

“Focus, Oz.. now Count.”

Despite himself.. numbers began to count down in his head. Was this it..? Was this how it ended?

10..
9
8..
7
6..
5
4..
3
2..

“One-”

The loud sound of a bell rang throughout the house, signaling the end of the game. And Oswald was still alive. The shift from human to man signaled the creatures lost.. his eyes twitched in irritation.

“Looks like you took too long to deal the final blow, huh?” Oswald taunts, his cocky grin only irritating the rabbit more. The now human boy stood up, able to move at last.
“This.. isn't fair. This isn't fair! I had you! I won!” The rabbit threw the gun to the floor in rage, the glitchy voice from before returned. He was outraged.
“Oh, now game fairness matters?” Oz crossed his arms, looking up at the rabbit.. who suddenly had a toothy grin. That couldn't be good. The rabbit took a step toward the child.

“Seems the game is fair.. as you are still here, aren't you?” He spoke with that stupid grin, grabbing the child roughly by the collar of his shirt.
“Seems regardless of your efforts, I will always win. One way.. or another” The rabbit prepared to take the killing blow. The boy clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the pain..
But nothing came..

When he opened his eyes, he saw the comforting familiarity of the ceiling. He was back home. He was awake. He was alive. The boy sat up, holding himself tight in joy.. seeing the credits on screen. Huh, it seemed the movie was over. That sucks.. he was barely paying attention to it.
He also slept through half of it.

He stood up from the couch, wincing in pain as his arm brushed against the pillow. He took a sharp inhale, walking into the dining room, then into the kitchen.

He was hungry.

Chapter Text

Oswald stared at the inside of the microwave, watching the cup of Mac and Cheese slowly spin. It was a cheap snack, but a good snack nonetheless. He would even say it was his favorite food. It was pizza at one point, but he might be burnt out on pizza for a very long time. He'd survive though.
As he watched his food, he could hear faint voices from the basement, piqueing his interest. He wouldn't consider himself an avid eavesdropper, but every now and then he just couldn't help himself.

He snuck over toward the door, pressing his ear up against the old wood, listening to the faint voices.

“It's scary to think about..”

“I know, honey, I know.. we just have to wait a bit until he's ready to tell us..”

“I know.. but.. if it's what I think happened.. actually happened.. How would I even.. what do we.. what do we do?”

“I'm.. not sure. Maybe question Jeff on it? He works there.. surely he knows it's there.”

“And.. if he doesn't?”

“Honey.. that can't be possible. It's his restaurant, he should know what goes in and out. Or at least know something is in there.”

“That.. that's fair. Yeah.. that.. that sounds like a plan..”

Oswald backed up from the door. Ask Jeff about what? He hoped that it had nothing to do with the bite. Jeff wouldn't know. What scared Oz more was the thought of his lie falling apart. His mom was already skeptical about the dog story he made up, and of course when she brought the logic to dad, he'd also be skeptical. He couldn't have that.. not at all.
He'd have to play his cards right, and keep the lie going. It made him feel horrible.. But if it kept them safe what other choice did I have? This was for the greater good.. they'd understand. He was sure they've lied countless times for his sake before, so this was fair.
They'd understand.
Though, the statement about Jeff possibly knowing it was there was a bit unnerving. Surely they meant the dog right? Surely. Surely dad didn't remember the rabbit hanging there. Surely he's in the clear.
I didn't lock the door to the ball pit room.
If they went in there, who knows what could happen. He couldn't take that risk. Not again.

He took a deep breath, startled by the sudden beeping of the microwave. Every single little sound startles him. Even though he knew it was gone, he's gotten so used to the necessity of silence. That any sound could potentially end his life, lead that creature right to him. It lingered, despite it not being here.
Well.. apparently it was here. Just not physically. He still couldn't understand what that creature was talking about. Hopefully he was just a figment of his lingering trauma, a fragment of the horrors the creature put him through, a loose screw in his sanity.
Maybe it responds based on the boy's fears, based on what his mind feared the creature would say. He hopes so. Then everything it says would be nulled by default, meaning absolutely nothing in the real world.
But the thought of his black tears weren't making him settle.

He walked over to the microwave, taking out his snack. It cooled a bit, making his life much easier. He sat at the dining room table, eating in silence. Silence used to feel unbearable at times, leaving him lost in thought as he tried filling the feeling of emptiness.
It made him uncomfortable back then.
Now, the roles were very much reversed. Too much noise felt horrible, while silence felt peaceful.
He wasn't too displeased at the change. But still a bit peeved it was changed through force rather than his own willingness. Oh well.
He kicked his feet, thinking more himself. I should draw. He got up, grabbing his sketch book and returning back to the table.. drawing mindlessly yet again.
He could hear his parents entering the kitchen.

“I smell mac n cheese.” His father spoke, sniffing the air. He'd creak open the door, spotting Oz at the table.
“Awe, buddy, sorry for leaving ya for so long. I had to clean up the ladder.” He took a seat next to his son, looking at his drawings.
“Whatcha doodling?”
“Eh, nothing really.. kinda doing it mindlessly.” He looked down at his paper, noticing a drawing of pit bonnie. Great, even after everything- it still shows up on my paper. Now the paper is ruined. He huffed a bit, seemingly going unnoticed.
“Huh, that fella looks.. familiar.”
“Hm?” He looked up at his dad, a bit worried he reminded him of the rabbit. Please forget it. Please.
“Yeah.. there was a uh.. restaurant back in my day. I don't think you'd know of it, it closed back in the 80s.” He tested a bit, testing his son's reaction. Oz caught on, nodding slightly.
“Huh, I didn't know you were so old.” He smirked, teasing his father.

“Don't go bullying your old man.” The man laughed, ruffling his hair. He'd look back at his kid's drawing, feeling a chill go up his spine. The rabbit was unnerving to him, not as much as the other one. But both were bad news.
“So uh.. do you.. got a name for him?” He smiled nervously. Ok, something is off. Oz tapped his pencil against his chin.
“Hm.. I might name him.. Billie?” He guessed, hoping the name didn't ring any more bells than he already has. It seemingly worked, as his dad's nervous smile turned genuine.
“Billie? That's nice.” He seemed relieved even. What's up with him lately?
“Dad.. you uh- you ok?” He didn't like seeing his dad so.. unnerved. He understood if the jump to five days was a bit alarming, but context clues pointing to it being centered on robots was odd. The same robots Oz fought for said five days.. or at least the older models.
It wouldn't hurt to test a bit.

“So, uh..-” Before he could ask anything, the man stood up from the table.
“You ok with Alfredo tonight?” He did a few stretches, obviously changing the subject. Oz took the hint. Maybe later..
“Yea, sounds good..” He was a bit worried. This wasn't like him at all.. did something happen on the other side of the pit? What went down in that room? Now remembering said room, Oswald began to wonder. What was that room exactly? Some kind of parts and service? How come there were no doors to it? It was odd..
A vent led to it, how come there wasn't an active entry? What became of that room?
When he snapped back to reality, he noticed his dad already left the room. I really gotta focus.

He jumped down from the chair, going to the kitchen. His mom was going through cabinets, getting the necessities for Alfredo. Maybe eating Mac and Cheese this late wasn't a good idea..
“Can I help?” Oswald walked over, looking over the counter, needing to stand on the tips of his toes just to fully see. I'll be taller one day.
“Remember, Oz, you need to rest your arm.. You can help a bit later in the week, alright?” Sheryl smiled, patting him gently on the head. Oswald huffed under his breath, standing down.
“I know, buddy, I know. Stitches suck.” She chuckled slightly. Oz has heard loads of stories from when she was a rambunctious kid. She compares herself to the boy on occasion; the constant need for adventure, for something exciting. She'd explore the woods of Hurricane on weekends, searching up and down for anything she could break into. Nowadays she condemns the idea, bringing law and risks as the main reason. Though, Oz could see she misses urban exploring, the way she'd excitedly bring up stories of abandoned sheds and old homes.. It always piqued Oz's interest.

Now there's something I can do after school.
After my arm is healed, that is..
Though, the stories of the injuries she'd get always held him back from urban exploring. Though in a town like Hurricane, who knows how many abandoned buildings still stood. Hell, the Mill is one of them now.
It'd be an interesting trip, as he's been in there during operation hours. He remembers the interiors pretty well: the loads of conveyor belts, some suspended in the air, the random stacks of boxes in seemingly every corner, the stairs up to a control room. It was his favorite place to visit back then.
He imagined if he did go in now, it would be like entering your very old childhood home. The same home left to rot after you moved out. A feeling of nostalgia, mixed with the boosted adrenaline of exploring a place long since abandoned.
It would be super fun. If only I didn't have these stupid stitches..

“You there bud? You ain't spacing out on me now, are ya?” Stephen poked his boy's nose, snapping him out of his train of thought. I did it again. Darn it.
“Yea I'm here, just thinking.. I've been bored.” He sat on the stool near the counter, resting his head on the palm of his hand, elbow rested on the table.
“I'd imagine, not much going on nowadays. Though.. When does Oz go back to school?” He looked over at Sheryl, who was already boiling water.
“He has a three day suspension, but I might just keep him home the whole week. Gotta keep an eye on that arm.” She dumped the noodles into the pot.

“Eesh, sorry bud. Seems you'll be staying inside for the week.” As boring as that sounded to the boy, it sounded perfect. Five days of utter hell, then given five days to kick back and relax? Seemed pretty fair. Except the injury part, that isn't fair.
“Eh, ain't too bad. Pretty thankful, to be honest.” He planned out his week.. finding most of it was watching TV and drawing. Perfect as is.
“Was it that bad?”
“If it's Dylan coded, it's bad.” The boy scoffed. Oh yeah.. Dylan.. that'll be a bag of worms to return to next week. But that's a future Oswald's problem, Oz is on vacation. He wasn't about to let thoughts on Dylan taint his break. He already has someone doing just that.

“So.. other than cleaning it.. do I do anything with uh- my arm?” He was a bit uneasy, thinking of looking at his injury. The memory of the way it looked before made him nauseous.

The blood soaked his arm, making a brownish tint to his freckled arm, the marks red and agitated. It was still bleeding, droplets coloring the tiles below. It made his head spin. He wouldn't consider himself sensitive to blood, but looking at his arm made him feel light headed. He's never had an injury of this severity before.

He trembled, clearing his throat. Don't think about that.
“Well. You have to rest it.. especially for two days after the stitches were implanted. So.. today and tomorrow is very important for you to rest. Afterward, you can move it very slightly. But the bandages stay for a month at least, replacing it daily, avoiding dust and dirt.” She stirred the noodles in the water gently, preparing the sauce on the side.
“The hardest part for you would be staying still. But, you should be ok. You have us here to keep an eye out.”

“I don't need constant surveillance, mom.” Oswald playfully scoffed.. he kinda had enough eyes on him.
He shook his head, blinking in confusion. What?
“Oh, come on, Oz. It's our job, we are your parents after all.” Stephen chuckled, going through the fridge, pulling out a water bottle. He always loved his cold water..
“Oh- Yeah.. you got a point there. But really, it's ok. I can take care of myself from time to time.. you guys shouldn't take too much time off work.” The boy insists.
“True, but Hun.. not to alarm you, but that's a nasty bite you got. It's a bit.. nerve racking to think you're home alone with stitches. You never had them before.” His mom insisted back. She was right, but gosh, does he hate being babied. He's old enough to take care of himself. He appreciates it, but also wants some space to take care of himself.
He's been doing it for five days straight.
The creature never fed him, he was wide awake at night running back and forth- from one hiding spot to another. It was a constant for five whole days.
He can handle five days home alone- as if he wasn't alone the majority of the time in a pizzeria with a killer rabbit. How many 10 year olds could you even list that survived what I did? If they knew, they would know I'd be perfectly fine.

He didn't argue though, keeping the thought to himself. If the stitches weren't there, he would though. They were right about one thing after all..
He has no idea how stitches work. He could accidentally make the injury worse and panic. He doesn't fully trust himself. But later in the week, he probably would. How long does a bite even take to heal? It was pretty bad..
He guesses a few months max.
“Alright.. you've made your point.” He sighed in defeat.
“Don't worry, bud. It won't be too long ‘till you can have that arm working good as new.” Stephen smiled reassuringly to Os, grabbing bowls from the cupboard.

He clasped his paws over his month, sitting in a fetal position in the cramped cupboard. Listening closely to those rough boots on the ground as the hunter hunts him down..

“Come out, come out wherever you are.. This game is getting old..”

The boy didn't even notice his chest start to heave, a snippet of the nightmare flashing in his vision. He coughed into his arm, an odd taste in his mouth.
“Oz? You ok?” Sheryl turned around, looking at Oswald worryingly. Don't look at me like that..
“Y-yeah- I uh.. swallowed uh.. My spit wrong.” He was never great at improving under his mother's gaze.. but it seemed it worked this time around. His father chuckled.
“Yea, that always sucks. Goes down slightly off and you cough like a 10 year smoker.” He leaned against the cabinet. Oz looked down at his sleeve, wincing slightly.
“Yeah.. uh.. Imma head to the bathroom real quick..” he jumped off the stool, walking out of the room. When he knew he was far enough, he broke out in a sprint, going right to the bathroom. He locked himself in, taking heavy breaths.

He looked at his sleeve again, seeing a black substance already staining the dark blue hoodie. He just had this hoodie cleaned.. He ran it under warm water, roughly scrubbing at it. He didn't want anyone seeing this, they'd think it's something bad.
Though.. it probably is.
Oswald, for the life of him, couldn't figure out what this is.. He only recognized it from the rabbit, and that alone was a sign it was probably pretty bad. He didn't want to get checked.. that meant he'd have to tell the truth.
He just couldn't do it. It would get people involved. He can handle this, he already has once. What's another round? He took deep breaths.. calming his unsteady nerves.

“Oz. Don't you see it yet? The blackness in your body? The turmoil in your mind? It's all part of a process..”

What did any of this mean? Why did it all have to lead back to it? What did it do to him? Was it a poison? Some sort of venom? It didn't cross Oswald as poisonous.. but maybe that's the point? Like how some animals color themselves brightly as a warning to predators to not mess with them..
Most of the vibrantly colored animals were the most poisonous creatures of their kind. Maybe it was the same for.. whatever that creature was. It was a very bright yellow.. alongside brown, blue, and another yellow. It was the most poisonous of the four.. or five, since Foxy could count. Probably. Oz never met him.. thankfully.
When the dark stain was fully gone, Oz took a few more minutes to calm himself before returning to the dining room. The bowls were already filled with Alfredo, Stephen preparing some soda on the side.

“Hey, bud. Are you good with orange soda?” Stephen asked, holding up the bottle. Oz nodded, smiling a crooked smile. He was still a bit unnerved.
“You uh.. sure? You look a lil skeptical there.”
“Yeah- I'd like some. I'm just.. uh.. tired is all.” He took a cup, waiting for his dad to pour a cup.

“Oh, forgot you mentioned that this morning.” He poured a small cup of soda.
“It's alright.. I'll probably get a full night's sleep tonight.” He knew deep down he wouldn't. A certain someone won't let him. He worried a bit about what challenges he'd face in his dreams. But whatever it was, he could handle it. He's done so twice already.
“Me and you both.” His dad spoke, clearly tired himself. He helped Sheryl with taking everything to the table. He'd zone out through most of the couple's conversations.. it wasn't too important to him anyway. He couldn't help but think of some of the words the bunny spoke to him.
Despite knowing it’s all just empty words and, or well- hopefully, things his mind made up, he couldn't help but stress on it. Surely it's just his mind. Surely. Hopefully. But it ate him alive from deep inside his mind. Part of him thinks it could be true.
But how?
Was it really?

Ugh, stop thinking about it! Think of something else! He'd try filling his mind with other things.. think happy, anything else.
He sat back in his seat, eating his Alfredo. There, bingo. Alfredo. Mom made everything perfectly. If the nurse job didn't go well, she could've been a chef. Either way, she's the best. That could just be biased thinking.
It definitely was. She's my mom.
He was finished before he could even process he was eating. He sighed, wishing there were more he could have.
Oh well.
“Dang, you ate that pretty fast. Remember what we used to tell you, bud.” Don't eat so fast, you'll get cramps. Yeah, I remember.
“I know, I know. I was pretty hungry.” He drank his soda.

“Dang, that hungry? If I knew, I would've made some more.” Sheryl chuckled, finishing her own bowl.
“It's alright. I'm full enough.” Kinda.
“That's good, at least.” She collects his bowl, taking her own with her to the kitchen. His dad was rather slow today.
“Hm. Today went by Hella slow, huh?” He questioned, stuffing his fork in his mouth. I slept most of it, so it was pretty fast.
“Mhm. Not much really happened.”
“Yeah.. we only really cleaned the basement. Didn't do much else. Found a lil rat too. Gotta get Jinx on that.” Oswald froze. Oh crap- she's probably still in his room.
“I think she's in my room-”
“Nah, I let her out earlier. You were in the living room. She's probably hiding somewhere.” Okay, that's good.
“Thanks.. I feel bad for forgetting her in there..”
“Well, bacon was calling your name this morning..” The man chuckled, standing up with his bowl and cup, taking Oz's cup along. I could've taken both dishes.

He sat there alone for a few moments, hearing the couple talk about something he couldn't make out. He's gonna have to clean his stitches soon, which was enough to make him nauseous.
He really didn't want to, but he has to. He knew that already. You dealt with a reality warping rabbit, you can handle this. He boosts himself, getting up from the table. He probably had to wait for mom to do it, but he could wait.
Take your time, please.

“Oz, come here.” Of course. He grumbled a bit, getting up and walking as slow as he could. He will eventually make it there, just at his own pace.
Eventually his grace period was over, making it to the bathroom too fast for his liking.
“It's not as bad as you think, kiddo.” She gets a rag, grabbing the medkit. Easy for you to say, mom.
“It's not the pain I'm worried about..” He mumbled, looking down at his feet. Nobody's saying he has to look at it. He can just.. keep his eyes on the ground.
“You can keep your eyes down if it helps. Taking deep breaths usually helped me when I had stitches. She unwraps the gauze, looking at the stitches.
“Hm, it's not terrible. Just a lil irritated. It'll scar most likely.. But hey, kids still think scars are cool, right?” She tries to lighten the mood a little, taking the rag and dabbing it lightly. It stung, causing the boy to sharply inhale.
“I- I guess?” He doesn't know, and frankly doesn't need to. He wears his jacket majority of the time, some people might never even see it.

“Yeah, I was considered cool with my scars. Not with the nurse though..” She takes some soap, adding to the sheer torture. Ok.. it wasn't THAT bad. Still stung tho.
“How come?” Oz focused on anything but his arm.
“Guess she got tired seeing me so often. Your dad always found it cool, so I considered myself cool.” She smiled, reminiscing the days of her high-school years. Oh boy.
“Huh.. So.. I'm cool now?”
“You've always been cool.” She ruffles his hair. How come everyone is doing that all the sudden? She grabbed a fresh roll of gauze and wrapped his arm.
“Oh.. that.. that's it?”
“Yup.”
“No.. rubbing alcohol?”
“Bud.. those are for scratches and scrapes.” She looked a bit concerned at the implication that the boy thought the substance was used on everything. Could you blame him? He only had scratches and scrapes.
“Oh.. right.. I knew that.”
“OK then, Mr.smarty pants. Get to bed.” She rolled her eyes playfully. Standing up, she helped Oz gently to the ground.. Not necessary but he'd take as long as he needed to avoid bed.

“Awwww.. can't I stay up a bit longer?” He wasn't one to resort to begging.. but he was begging at this point.
“Sorry, bud. Summer is over, gotta get that sleep schedule fixed.” Well, he tried.
“Alright alright.. Goodnight mom.” He sighed. She gave him a forehead kiss.
“Night, hun.”

In bed, Oz stared up the ceiling.. Jinx on his side as always. If only Jinx could appear in his dreams, she'd surely protect him from whatever is there. But alas, he seemingly didn't have control over these dreams.. so he's alone.
Though, at least he's used to it. There's that.. he guesses. Oh well.

Can't avoid the inevitable.

Chapter Text

He woke in a familiar bed, looking around the pitch dark bedroom. So we're back to this again? He groaned as he sat up, looking at the LED clock.. 12am. He looked above the time, seeing a number 2.
What's the two mean?
Oh well, he had something more important to focus on. The rabbit must be here.
He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the night forward, thinking on what he knows at the moment. Four locations, one threat, use the light under the bed, hold the openings closed. Simple.
For the most part.
He'd sigh at a movement in the hall.
It's already here.

He goes to the door, looking out into the hallway, spotting the familiar shadowy creature. It was at the end of the hall, about three positions away from the door. The boy flashed the light at it experimentally, watching it leave back through the door it seemingly came from.
Huh, so I can make it leave before it reaches the door. This makes things much easier.
Pleased by his results, he walks back to the bed, getting comfortable. Things are manageable at last.
Peering at the clock, he's disappointed at it still showing 12am. Alright, odd. He could hear an all too familiar laughter echo in the house. Of course the night is longer.. Scott forbid I have a night.

Before the boy could even fully relax, he heard three sharp taps at the window.
That's not the sound cue from yesterday.
He hesitated a bit, not sure if this would be the yellow rabbit's introduction.
He just got rid of the shadow rabbit, surely it didn't move outside that fast.
He jumped off the bed, going to the window.
A giant humanoid owl stares into his frightened eyes, dark void like orbs lacking shine and life. It looked almost dead. The feathers on its face were matted, old and faded in color, though most of its head was hidden behind wing-like appendages. They looked melted, its arms looking fused to its body. The feathers on its wings looked melted, fleshy.
It slouched forward, looking into the window, eyes glued on the boy.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to... please...find the pictures... protect yourself... please…”

What the fuck is this thing? Where are they coming from? Is the yellow rabbit creating these guys? So many questions surged through the boy, but he couldn't even guess the answers. But, he wasn't going to just stand there.
The owl continued crying, an odd garbled sound, like multiple children's cries overlapping. It didn't set right with the boy, almost like the cries of the kid who got stuffed into an endo-skeleton. It sounds horrible.
He looked around the room, opening his bedside drawers. In the bottom drawer, a crude drawing of what appeared to be Chica was there. It looked like a scribbled mess, with red pen scratched words over the page. A bunch of I’m sorrys.
Weird.. very very weird.

He touched the paper, but it fizzled into purple glitchy boxes before disappearing. Was it collected-? Where did it go? He continued searching anyway, finding a crude drawing on his desk. It was similar to Chica's, except it was Freddy. The drawings depicted them crying, for whatever reason. The boy couldn't be bothered to wonder why. He tapped the drawing, watching it fizz out of existence. Surely they're being collected.
He'd look around, finding Foxy's drawing under the bed, needing to reach in order to touch it. He'd find Bonnie's in the closet, but the drawing wasn't the only thing laying inside. There was a note..
He tapped the drawing first, hearing a soft cry of what sounded like the owl in pain before the sound of something flying away.
Did it leave-? He went over, relieved to see nothing there but the vast empty space.
But now he was focused on the note. He went back over to the closet, grabbing the paper. Unlike the drawings, it thankfully didn't glitch out, allowing him to read it.

November 3rd, 1983.

“Well, she's gone. She just couldn't listen to me, could she? The wife blames me, because of course she does. But I couldn't care less. What I built worked, it served the purpose it was meant for. How could I possibly be upset?
Just wish it wasn't her.”

The boy had to reread the note a few times, but just found himself more lost. What happened? Did someone die or something? Huh.. maybe he'll find more somewhere in the house? Maybe. He sat the note down on his desk, making sure to hide it. Don't want something of importance being snatched up.
Checking the time, he's even more agitated. 1am.
Great. Real cool, guys. Real nice.
Now that time is taking longer, the boy really needed to keep an eye out for the cues. There is no room for errors now.

“Aren't you tired.. Don't you want to rest?”

He jumped, nearly losing his footing. He looked around frantically, checking around to see where the voice came from. But nobody was here.

“But, little one.. I'm always here.”

Where are you? Show yourself! If he couldn't physically speak yet, he can just imagine speaking. It worked well enough, somehow. Though, he still didn't like the thought of the rabbit reading his thoughts.
He wasn't safe anywhere. Not even his own mind.
He felt violated, in a way. It felt invasive. But, if he can at least fight him, maybe he could find a way to get rid of him. There's always a way.

“Is there, now?”

You're only saying that to make me give up faster. But I'm not listening to you. He checked outside the bedroom door again, finding nothing. Then, he remembered. That darn plush. He storms over to the closet, grabbing the rabbit by the ears. He'd throw it across the room.. watching it bounce off the wall and land on its face. He couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. It looked funny.

“Is my supposed pain really that comical to you? How hurtful..”

Supposed?

“I'm not the plush.”

He huffed, going over to the plush, picking it back up. Instead of returning it to the closet, he tossed it out of the room, feeling much better with it outside.
Then where are you?
He looked out the window, peering into the void, looking over every bit he could physically see. Nothing. This was getting annoying. He turned back around, freezing in place. On the other side of the bed, the shadow rabbit stood.
He forgot the bed.
He stared at it, seeing the odd glitchy effect coming off its body. It looked unreal, like a glitch he'd find in the arcade. It almost reminded him of ‘collect the hats’, with the odd out of bounds area and purple man. It was quite trippy, but also a headache to stare at.
However, regardless of the passing moments of silence, the rabbit didn't move. It just.. stood there, staring into his soul.
It didn't take him too long to figure out how the rabbit slipped by.
It distracted me.

He kept his eyes on the rabbit, not moving an inch. The rabbit just stood there, not even attempting to move either.
You gonna.. do something? Or..
After 2am became 3am, he got the hint. Great, I have to stand here all night watching this guy.
The fear of the Owl possibly coming back was enough to get the child to fidget anxiously. Any second, at any point, the tapping can happen. He assumes he'd be killed if he doesn't do what the owl says. But he also dies if this rabbit gets to him. He doesn't have confidence in himself to balance both.

And the implications of other possible nights didn't help either. Who knows how many things this rabbit made.
He felt like he was in the middle of a staring contest, eyes glued to the thing. The rabbit tilts its head, as if he was curious. What could you possibly be thinking about?
Could these things even think?
Ugh.

Tap. Tap. Tap..

The boy felt his heart sink. The fear became reality as the sound of garbled weeping filled his ears. This was it, he was definitely going to lose. There was no shot he could win.
He took a deep breath. He couldn't just stand there and let the Owl kill him, he had to do something.
Here goes nothing.
He walks over to his desk first, eyes staying on the rabbit. It seemed its eyes were following him. Great.
He bumped into his chair, but didn't dare look away, using his hands to pat around. It wasn't directly on the desk, but instead taped to the inner wall.
So the locations are random. Awesome.
He walked over to the closet. He had to be slow, careful. This was agonizing..

He got to the closet, patting about.. It wasn't there, or in either of the other two. Dang it. He didn't know how long it'd take until the owl got impatient. He was a bit scared, his breathing picking up a bit in speed.
He was starting to panic.
The rabbit smiled wider, seeing the boy's obvious distress. This was bad.
He went over to the wall behind him, walking backwards. He moved his hand about, feeling the wall for any taped pictures. He'd brush his hand against one, hearing it glitch out of existence.
Two down, two left.

The uncertainty really screwed with him. He did know where they could possibly be.. There also were a few places he couldn't get to. This wasn't possible. Then, he heard the owl speak..

“You couldn't save them..”

He'd hear the glass shatter, the owl bursting into the room.. The boy rushed to the closet, getting inside to hide. He kept himself quiet, covering his mouth as the owl seemingly went berserk. He didn't dare move, despite hearing footsteps get closer.
What do I do!?
He was relieved when he heard the owl leave.. a scream signaling its departure. But.. could he open the door when the rabbit was already on the move? Maybe.. if the owl left, maybe it will too?
The sound of footsteps coming closer got rid of that hope real fast. He could possibly catch it before it can get close enough? He had to take the risk, otherwise he'd just end up dying.
With a bit of hesitation, he opened the doors, seeing the rabbit standing quite close.. around three or so steps away. He caught him.
I lived.

He kept his eyes on it, ignoring the broken furniture on the floor. It's not mine so why should I care?
He didn't know what time it was, hoping it was at least 4am by now. He already screwed up twice tonight, he couldn't afford another screw up. He'd surely be killed.
He didn't even want to know what happens if he's caught.

“You know.. you can end this the simple way.. accept your place, and I'll come save you.”

Ha! As if. The boy refused, his will was not yet weak enough to accept any proposal this creature makes. It'd be like selling his own soul over. He wouldn't be weak. He won't give up. Not yet.
He kept his gaze glued to the shadow, refusing to listen to the creature's words any longer. He was close to winning, he had to be.

“My boy, it's 3am. You won't make it at this rate..”

He had to be lying. He had to be. There was no possible way it was only 3am. Several minutes passed! That couldn't be true!
Even then, if it was 3am, the chances of the owl's return was high. He couldn't leave the closet, the shadow would surely grab him. Maybe.. if he can just squish up against the wall..
He took a deep breath, stepping out of the closet slowly.. pressing himself up against the wall. He made slow steps, following the wall, moving around the creature. He kept his eyes wide open, not daring to blink. He didn't really need to.. his eyes wouldn't burn or water in a dream.
He slowly made it to the other side of the room, relieved his plan actually worked.
He could thankfully see the clock, all while keeping the shadow creature in his line of sight. It was 4am. Either it just changed, or the rabbit lied.
It doesn't matter either way, he can win much easier now. The shadow was across the room, there was no sign of the owl. If the creature can just stay away for a few more minutes.

He sat on his chair, getting as comfortable as he could. Now it was just a game of waiting, and staring. He can do it.. surely.
He watched the rabbit, every now and then checking the time. It soon changed to 5am.
Caught your little lie, rabbit.
Despite his thought, the rabbit didn't respond. Must've irritated him. Oh well, now it would be a few moments until he is free to wake up.
Several minutes went by and soon enough, it reached 6am, the distant sound of grandfather clock ringing like music to his ears. No owl to be seen either. His luck seemed pretty good.
But.. nothing happened. The shadow creature just stood there, waiting.
What.. What's happening? Why am I not waking up?

“Come downstairs, will you?"

The hell? No.

“I can wait..”

Oz sat there in sheer defiance, not moving an inch. Regardless of how long he sat there, nothing happened.
Goddammit wake up already!

“Watch your mouth.”

Oz groaned, annoyed at this stupid game by now. But no matter what happens, he won't go downstairs. But, it seemed the rabbit got impatient, as the shadow creature began to move toward him.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
Oz tried to run, but found the bedroom door refusing to budge, and the rabbit kept getting closer, reaching toward him.
The boy rushed to the bed, going underneath it, wielding his flashlight tight. When the rabbit peered its head under the covers, the boy didn't hesitate to flash him over and over with the flashlight, the light blinding the creature and making it back off.
He stayed under the bed, unsure where he could even go from here.

“Just give up, I'm not letting you wake until you come to me.”

You can't do that..

“Watch me.”

Oswald continued to wait, flashing the shadow creature whenever it attempted to grab him. After several minutes of failure, the bedroom door opened. The boy could see the familiar color of yellow.
“Try to grab me, see what happens.” The boy threatened, relieved to see he could talk again. Why wouldn't they let him talk during the events?
The boy froze in place when the bed flipped over.. the yellow rabbit standing there, a look of agitation on his face.

“Why must you make things harder? You gain nothing from it. Now come, I prepared you breakfast..”

“Go fuck yourself.” Oz retorts. But, found he was practically cornered. The bed blocked his way, the shadow rabbit stood to the left, the rabbit to the right. There was nowhere to go from here.
But, he would rather go down kicking and screaming than comply with the creature's wishes.

“A stubborn one you are..”

It rolled its eyes, going over to grab Oz roughly by the arm, dragging him out of the room. The boy kicked, struggling as much as he could. But the creature's hold was as tough as iron, not letting the boy go.

“You waste your breath with these useless struggles. You know as well as I that it's useless.”

“I don't care!” He continued to try as they walked to the dining room. The rabbit simply groaned in annoyance, lifting him up by arm.

“Quit it, will you?”

“Eat dirt.”

It huffed, placing the boy on the chair. Despite the boy's attempts to move, he found himself stuck.

“You're such a cheater..” The boy huffed, crossing his arms. This was getting dumb.

“You know, once you're a father.. you'll understand what we have to do to get you brats to behave. It's harder than it looks.” The creature walked to the kitchen, ignoring the boy's eye roll.

“You're not my dad.. quit saying things like that.” He rests his head on his hand, elbow on the table. He just wants to wake up.. He hates it here.

“Keep saying that all you'd like, it changes nothing.” The rabbit brought out two plates, setting one in front of the boy. An omelet with some bacon on the side. It definitely won't be as good as mom's cooking.

“Now.. Will you behave and talk with me like an actual big kid, or are you gonna continue being difficult?” The rabbit sat down with his plate, placing down some utensils..

“Whatever.. what do you want?” He wasn't planning to pay much attention to it, but it would be useful to hear something of possible importance. Perhaps what it has to say can be used for later..

“You should've guessed what I've been wanting.. You are quite bright for someone your age, aren't you? You skipped a whole grade last time I checked.” The rabbit ate a piece of bacon casually, as if it didn't admit to checking on things it shouldn't be.

“I'm sorry.. you checked?” Oswald glared at the creature, ignoring the food entirely. Yeah, I ain't eating this.

“Of course I did.. A father should know what's going on in his boy's life.”

No matter how many times I tell it.. Oswald huffed, not bothering to argue it anymore. He knows it isn't true, and this creature should as well. But it will only keep at it until the boy's resolve fades. And he won't let that happen anytime soon.

“Good. Now.. let's talk, father to son.” The rabbit began cutting his omelet, cutting Oz's after. No point in doing that but ok.

“You should eat, child. I don't need a starving kid on my conscious.”

“This is a dream, I don't even need to eat.”

“I will resort to force.” The rabbit sat down the fork holding a piece of its omelet, the threat clearly real. The boy huffed, taking his fork. I hope the poison kills me. He began to eat.

“It isn't poisoned, you're just being overly dramatic.” It picked its fork back up, continuing to focus on its food. Oswald focused on the bacon, noticing the taste was eerily similar to his mother's.

“You copied my mom's recipe..”

“I have, you wouldn't eat it otherwise. It is your favorite after all..” It spoke with an annoyingly cocky tone, enough to annoy the boy even more. The audacity was already annoying as is..
He sat there, no longer wanting to talk to it. Maybe if I finish, it will finally let me go. He ate as fast as he could, thinking of possible freedom over possible death.

“Not so fast, boy.. there was a reason I wanted to talk.” The rabbit pushed away its empty plate.

“What is it now?” Oswald finished, not bothering with his plate anymore.

Can someone pour water on me already?

Chapter Text

The tension was heavy, weighing down on Oz like a ton of bricks. He felt its eyes burning into him, possibly planning ways to kill him. How long could it keep me here? It freaked him out that he could just be denied freedom from his nightmares, that the rabbit is the one in control here.
Since when could it do that? How does it do it?
He tried not to think too hard about it, preferring to keep himself sane. But the possible answers were terrifying on their own.
He could put me in a coma at any minute, or whenever he just feels like it. Did killing it make it stronger?

“I can sense your tension, child. Are you truly that afraid of your own father?” The rabbit tilts its head, a bit condescending in the way it spoke. It was mocking the boy's fears.
“There is nothing to be afraid of.”

“With you, there is plenty to be afraid of..” Oswald mumbled, resting his head on the palms of his hands, eyes drifting to the empty glass plate in front of him.
Perhaps.

“You're being overly dramatic.” Oswald huffed, agitated by the way it spoke to him. It was as if it was scolding him, like how mom does when he misbehaves. The tone, the facial expressions, it was almost a carbon copy. It was almost uncanny.
He decided to not look at it anymore, keeping his eyes glued to the plate.
The rabbit sighed, pinching the bridge of its nose.. or at least tried a movement similar.

“You gonna tell me what you want, or are we just gonna sit there?” The boy was growing impatient. He didn't know what time it was outside. He didn't like the idea of waking up in the afternoon. He didn't like this.
The idea he could be kept asleep was alarming, terrifying even. It would appear he entered a coma, which would likely scare his parents to death. He just got his dad back, not to mention he already felt bad about all the stuff he's caused.
They didn't deserve this.

“How sweet of you, worrying about them rather than yourself. But that's a weakness, Ozzie. Let me give you some life advice. People are a burden, love is weakness. They'll only distract you from the grand picture, getting in the way of our grand design. Don't waste your time with weak, trivial pests. Remind yourself that bugs can easily be squished. Don't lower yourself to that level, you'll only get yourself squished with them.” It kept its eyes glued on the boy, watching his face scrunch up with anger. It was clear its words were working.

“Think about it, Ozwald. What have they done to help you? Your mother couldn't even trust your word, or listen to your terror. Your father doesn't even know you saved him. But I know, I listened. I've done what they couldn't, listened when they didn't. Doesn't that make me a better parent? In my eyes, it does. And soon enough, you'll see things my way, see the world as I do. You just need a little.. re-education.” Each word felt like pins and needles on Oz's skin, goosebumps making his hair stand on end.
He felt cold, really cold.

“You.. you're wrong.” He hated how shaky his voice has gotten, making his fear much more clear to the psychopath. It enjoyed suffering, agony, and pain. At this rate, Oswald was likely a five course meal for this thing.
As if things weren't bad enough for him.
“You don't get to.. to talk about them like that. You don't have the right! They've done more for me than you ever could.. I will never trade them in for some.. psychic rabbit creature like you!” With a boost of adrenaline, the boy yelled back at the rabbit. Oz could feel himself shaking a bit. He didn't like this one bit.

“Oh? You think I don't have the right to shame your parents?” He chuckled, a deep sound that held amusement, before breaking out in a full laugh. It was manic. It didn't laugh at the boy's words, rather at the boy himself. He felt mocked, making him shrink back in his chair.
“You're a riot, kiddo. What a funny, lil’ joke.. Gotta say, you got me there.” It calmed down a bit, sighing lightly.
“But. You are quite wrong.”

“What's that supposed to mean? How am I wrong?” The boy felt heavy, like something was pressing down on his chest. It was extremely uncomfortable, as if it was taking his ability to breathe.
Suffocating.

“I very much do have a right, unlike anyone else. They have wronged me the most.. and, to an extent, they've wronged you. You might not understand yet, but you will. And trust me.” The creature stood, making its way over to the boy. Oz mentally prepared himself for the worse, having a trick up his sleeve on the ready.
“You will hate them as much as I do.” It would crouch to Oz's level, a hand on his shoulder. Unlike his father's, the hand was cold and harsh. There was no love in the touch, or comfort. It was a threat.
“And I will be there, to take you back home.. right where you belong. With your true family.” That broke the last string in Oz's resistance.

“You.. are not.. my family!” In a sudden rush of emotion, Oswald grabbed the glass plate, shattering it against the rabbit's face. It stumbled back, pretty shocked by the sudden strike. With his hold now weakening, Oswald bolts out of the dining room, knocking over the chair.

“You- little shit-” The creature picked out pieces of glass from its face, seething internally. Taking a few deep breaths, it eased slightly. But not by much.
“So help me, when I get my hands on you..” It took another deep breath. Calm yourself, breathe. The kid just needs a tougher hand to learn. He'll learn better in no time.
“Oh, Ozzie. Little, rambunctious, Ozzie. Hiding didn't work too well for you last time. But I'm always up for a game.” The rabbit walked out of the dining room, looking around the foyer room. It's played this game lots of times, easily able to spot Oswald's cycle, his way of playing.
He likes hiding under things, mostly tables or the bed. And the benefits of most rooms being locked, the boy didn't have many options.

Not that it would be easy for him anyway, the rabbit could practically hear his thoughts.
This is so annoying.
Why can't it just leave me alone?
I thought this would be over after I saved dad..
When will it leave?
How can I make this thing go away?
Can I?
Is it stuck here now?
Is it still alive back at Jeff's?
Has it hurt anyone else?

The poor child was reeling with questions, all of which the rabbit will happily answer. What's a little game without some toying around? After all, he liked playing with his food from time to time. His son won't die of boredom on the creature's watch.
“Aw, why are you so annoyed? I thought we were just starting to have fun. After all, it's just a fun little game. Y'know how bonding works by now.” It looked around, deciding to look for the boy fairly this time. It would give a sense of hope the rabbit couldn't wait to see crushed.

“Besides, I thought I was clear with my continuous efforts. Perhaps I just wasn't doing it right.” The rabbit looked behind the couch, seeing a small plush of Foxy laying on its side. Discarded like waste.
“But, let me make the message a little more clearer for you. I'm here to stay. Until the very day you die. After all, it's the least a father can do. Thinking I'd leave after you strung me up is a hope too high, even for you.”

It continued around the living room, peering behind the TV. Despite talking, he didn't hear the boy respond verbally. Maybe I should hit a little harder, strike a nerve with enough force.
“You know.. you remind me a lot of a kid. I might be the incarnation of agony, but I hold memories. Not all of it my own, but I recall as if it were.” It opted for mind games, giving snippets of truth embedded in a blanket of playful deceit. The boy wouldn't know what was real or a lie.
“He was.. quite rowdy, a delinquent. He always disobeyed the man who ended up creating me. I remember the kid's sheer horror when he killed his own brother. It was truly a work of art. But, deep down, I don't think he regretted it. Not a single bit.”

It made its way out of the living room, walking towards the study.
“I'm sure that he felt a wave of relief. Not having competition meant he gets all the love. His father must've been so proud.. they weren't much different after all.” It looked around the study, eyes zoning in on the fire. The wood continues to burn, but doesn't deteriorate into ash. It stays stagnant, somewhat alive.
“They aren't much different from us, to an extent. Both were corrupted beings, wanting separate things, coming together by committing similar tragedies.”

Its eyes didn't leave the fire, the soft crackling a wave of memories.
“We are corrupted, Ozwald. Just in different ways. We will end up the same, regardless of your struggles. You can feel it deep down. But, you continue to deny it, resist it, rebel it. I can be patient, but everyone has a limit. You especially. You can't deny something you know is true forever, not unless you wish to succumb to madness.” It walked closer to the fire, kneeling in front of it. As if the fire itself was worthy.

“We can continue playing games, but it'll end up being a cycle. No one likes repetition, Oswald. Why not just give in? Make it easier for the both of us?” It reached over into the fire, flipping its hands over every so often. The fire didn't burn, didn't even hurt. It was like putting his hand in a warm oven, minus hot metal bars.
“Don't you ever grow tired of running? Of hiding? Isn't it just bothersome? I never understood why you kept on running. Every night, you'd find a new way to avoid me, to counter the others. It seemed like such a hassle, going back for this and that.. Just to save kids who didn't look back for you.” The memories flooded in the boy. Each night, after every rescue was the same: he'd free them from their trap, they'd say they haven't seen his dad, the rabbit comes in, either chases or grabs Oswald, and the kids would run to the exit. None of them looked back for Oswald, they just went home.

To the rabbit, he expected this. All humans were the same: greedy, selfish creatures. They would ditch the moment danger came, regardless of who was with them. Even if they are saved, the appreciation doesn't stay for long. People are expendable, easy to break under pressure.
The enjoyment their suffering gave was much too good for the Rabbit to give up. Killing was what it lives for, what it's meant to do. Changing nature would only bring disaster. Utter discord.
The rabbit wasn't one to like disaster after all.

“You can always trust me, Ozzie. I know what's best for you, for your interest. Coming home to your true family will let you see your true potential.” Then the creature heard it.. a sound from the kitchen. The child finally caved to the pressure. The creature made its way, taking its sweet time to truly revel in the pride of bringing a rough kid down.
Oswald used to be nothing more than a hassle, an annoyance. A hindrance to it. But, he grew to like that burning fire, the sheer determination the boy showed during the duration of five days. It wanted nothing more than to distinguish that fire, to create something better from it. To rebuild it into his liking, his image.
Like a son ought to be.
A copy of the father.

When the creature got to the kitchen, it was surprised to find Oswald in a defensive stance, wielding a knife. Well ain't this somethin. Perhaps they were already similar.
“Stay- stay back-” He threatened, taking a step back.
The number one rule when fighting against a predator was to not show weakness.
Foolish mistake, dear boy.
“Aw, tough now aren't we? You kids grow up so fast.” The rabbit took a step forward, making the boy take another step back.
Such weakness.

“Stay- stay away from me! I.. I will- I will hurt you..” The kid was holding a chef's knife.. pretty sharp. Way too sharp for young Ozzie to be using at this age.
“Don't be silly, Ozzie. You've never used such a knife before, you barely know what you're even doing. Now.. gently hand me the knife before you hurt yourself.” It took a step forward, Oswald stepping back. At this rate, in a few more steps, Oz would corner himself.

He really doesn't know what he's doing.

“I want.. I want you to let me go.” His voice wavered, yet another sign of weakness. The poor kid was practically hyperventilating.. His pupils were small pinpoints, his chest heaved at the sheer rate he was taking inhales. Panic.
“My poor, sweet child.. you've forgotten how to breathe properly. You really can't handle yourself out there, let alone in the big, scary world. You need to stay here..” Step forward, step back, sequenced like a dance.
A dance of death.
“You need me. Yet, you're too afraid to truly accept it. But, it's ok, you're young. You've yet to fully comprehend the world.”

“I don't need you! I can live perfectly fine without you! I have.. good parents.. parents who care about me. You- you're just.. saying things! I don't.. I don't..” He was barely thinking coherently, his body trembling slightly. He was offbalanced, unstable, mere seconds from a breakdown.
He was losing it.
The rabbit knew he was close, super close to breaking the kid. He just needed one more push. When the boy foolishly looked away, the rabbit played the last winning card.
A shift of form, it reached for the boy, watching the boy reel back and slash its hand.. But when Oswald looked up, he didn't see the rabbit.
He saw his dad.

The man looked at his hand, a cut going from one side of his palm to the other, black blood starting to leak out. It wasn't deep by any means, but definitely would sting. A normal person at least.
“Wow, nice swing. But don't worry, little Ozzie.. it's just a scratch.” The man spoke almost eerily like the boy's father, but wrong. It sounded distant, a bit glitched, like an old movie the real man would put on for the boy. It was.. wrong. So so wrong.
Was this the voice it used to trick people? How could anyone with a sense believe it?

“Come on, Ozzie.. it's time for bed. I can see you're tired..” He, it, took a step toward Oswald. Each step sent a wave of terror through the boy.
That's not my dad. That's not my dad. That's not my dad. He repeated in his head, hands starting to shake with hesitation.
How could he defend himself? Stabbing something that looked like his father? It felt wrong. His vision started the fizz weirdly, like a filter placed over his eyes. It was warped, glitchy effects causing his head to spin. A ringing in his ear blocked out every sound, except his voice.

“Come on, Ozzie.. you look sick. You need your rest.. you'll hurt yourself at this rate.”
Shut up. Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Oswald covered his ears, feeling as if something was breaking. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He could hear his own heart beat rapidly.
Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!
He could barely hear anything, his legs shaking, threatening to give out. He could feel wetness on his face.
“There it is.. the agony. I told you, Ozzie. You are corrupted, sick, infected.. you cannot expect to be treated normally out there. They'll run from you, avoid you, treat you like some kind of monster. But, I won't. I will treat you like my very own.. I just need you to take my hand. Follow me.”

In a burst of delirious panic, the boy lunged forward, letting out a harsh wail. He shoved the knife forward, feeling it plunge into something.
He felt the world stop, the ringing and warped vision slowly fizzing back to normal. He almost didn't feel real, like he was a figment of his own imagination. He stood there for a few seconds, completely out of it.
Then a hard thud caused him to jerk. He looked down to the floor with shaky eyes..
Seeing the body of his father on the tiles, black blood-like liquid coming from him.

He stood there, a few moments of processing before he dropped the knife, hands clasped his mouth. The boy stepped backward until his back hit the wall. He'd slide down, panicked breathing muffled behind the palms of his hand.
What have I done? What did I do-
I- I didn't mean to-

Silence. The horrific sound of nothing. It felt like ringing to Oswald, like nails on a chalk board. Time almost nonexistent.
He felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was drowning. He could almost feel his body being submerged in harsh waters, waves sending him roughly to one side, then the other. He felt dizzy, sick, like he was five seconds away from throwing up.
He covered his eyes, bringing his knees to his chest, as if hiding would make it all go away.
It's not real. It's not real.

“That wasn't very kind of you, Oswald.”

Chapter Text

The least expected turn it could've expected. It didn't think the boy even had it in him. One one hand, he did punch it a few times, but on the other, he never outright stabbed it. But, it couldn't help but be a bit impressed.
This could be much easier than I anticipated.
It couldn't help but wonder how long it would take until he is exactly like the son it truly wants.
It doesn't know why it wants a son, but couldn't help but think back on him.
He couldn't remember his name, but he knew his actions very well. The lives he took, the motives, the hatred. It only seeped into the creature when it was first formed.

It feels a compulsive urge to continue on from where he left off, to continue his legacy that was, for its knowledge, cut too soon, still locked away in that room back at that pizzeria. Boarded away like a forgotten memory.
But, in a way, he could continue the process. To make sure nothing was in vain, to make sure his name lives on in infamy. This town wouldn't just sweep it and forget, not on its watch.
And now, this boy was the key to getting just that. It was freed from the cage of that stupid loop, from that ball pit. It was so close. But, it just needs a little more time. The boy actually getting the win was a major setback, but it wouldn't be deterred.
Not yet.
It just needs to play its cards right, keep the boy under control. It needs time to rebuild what was lost.

“But, I gotta say, I'm impressed.” It stood up, dusting itself off as if it merely tripped.
“I didn't think you had it in you, Oz. Good job.” It smiled, clapping for extra theatrics. The boy said nothing, his mind completely blank.
As it should be.
It shifted back to its animatronic form, wiping the remnants of agony off its stomach.
That stab actually plunged pretty deep.
But it couldn't damage it, not in its own domain at least. But he can't have that happening when his grand design goes into full motion. It couldn't have any damages done.
Unless it's directed at the real man, then I'd gladly make an exception.

Oswald continued to stare at the ground where the creature was originally laying, his eyes distant. He barely blinked, just stared.
“Hellloooo?” The creature snapped its fingers in his face, eventually snapping him back into the moment.
“There you are! Thought we lost you.” It pats the kid on the head, barely caring about the change of expression to pure rage.
“Are.. you serious?”

“Hm?”
“You- you.. that.. I..” Despite his anger, he couldn't even speak properly. His words were shaky, his hands refusing to still.
“How.. why.. why did you- what..”
“Simple, really. I'm just teaching. You'll understand later.”
“Teaching-? Teaching me what!?” There he goes. The creature sighed, patting the kid until he scrunched up, backing up.
“Calm down. You'll understand in time. Just know you are a work in progress. It'll get easier the more you break into it. We all start somewhere, after all.”

The creature could see the boy flooding with even more questions, some the kid didn't really want to know.
“Is this some kind of payback? Some.. sick game you thought would be funny to play?” Oswald was trying to collect himself, unsure what to even think at this point. One moment he was reeling after a moment of a breakdown and now.. this.
“No and No. But nice guesses.”
“Then what? What is this even for?”
“Not something you need to know yet. It's simply a learning process right now. It's something I had to learn, and now I'm simply passing it onto you.”

Oswald took a few deep breaths, trying to keep himself calm. But at this point, he was having a hard time. Everything was too much. Too much to handle.
At this rate, who knows what he'd be like in a few days. So much was happening so fast, he barely even had a break from the situation beforehand.
Barely any time to process what he went through, getting bombarded by yet more he didn't ask for.
He wanted something exciting, sure. But this? This wasn't what he wanted.

“It's all for your own good, Oz. It's what you've been needing for a while now. You might not like it at first, but you'll learn to appreciate the lesson. In due time. Besides, there isn't much you can do about it. It's just part of life.” It kneeled down to the kid, a mockery of a father comforting his son. It did anything but comfort him.
“You think this is normal? That this- any of this.. is just how a kid's life is? What kind of life did you have?” Oswald looked at him, jerking back from his hand as if it were a hot iron.
“Why, of course it's normal, I learnt from the best after all. Though, I was an instant learner. You, however, are a bit different. But that can be worked around. A dog can always be trained.”
“I'm not a dog.”
“Whatever you say, bud. Now, I think it's time you wake up. Those stitches aren't going to clean themselves.” It snapped his fingers.

The boy jerked from his bed, gasping for a breath he didn't know he was lacking. The harshness caused him to cough violently, hands grasping his neck.
Wait, why am I holding my neck?
He soon calmed down, taking deep breaths. That was probably the worst dream I've ever had.
He looked over, seeing Jinx already up, startled by his sudden coughing fit. He sighed, petting her until she relaxed.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He looked toward his window, seeing it was pure daylight. That's not good.
He got up, quickly getting dressed in his usual striped shirt and baggy pants before heading toward the kitchen. His dad was cleaning the dishes in the sink, humming a tune to himself. When Oz walked in, he was surprised.
“There you are, bud. You were out all morning. Mom got called in so it's just us today.” He smiled, putting the last plate away, drying his hands.

“What time is it?” Oswald almost dreaded the answer.
Scott knows he kept me asleep for several hours.
“Hm, around lunchtime actually. You missed out on breakfast, but mom said you seemed too comfortable to wake up.” He felt bile rise to the back of his throat, needing to swallow and take deep breaths to calm down his nerves.
Comfortable was quite a word to use.
It was anything but comfortable.
“Uh.. yeah. It was nice..” He smiled, though he could feel it was crooked.
“You sure? You're looking a little pale there.” The man was definitely catching on, making Oswald panic internally.
Improvise.

“Okay okay. You got me. I struggled a bit to sleep. But, it's alright, really. I ended up making it up.” He waved dismissively.
“Uhm. Alright. Would you want something to eat?” The man searched the cabinets for something. There wasn't much.
A bit of shopping might be needed.
“Hm, how about a bagel?” He rummages through the pantry, moving cans out of his way.
“Hm, sure. I don't see why not.” Oswald got onto the stool, watching as Stephen put some bagels into the toaster.
“Did you have any cool dreams last night?” Stephen tried his best at some casual conversations, leaning against the counter.

“Uh.. not really. I don't remember much from my dream.” Oswald never liked lying, but in this case it felt necessary. He didn't want to think back on that dream at all. It made him feel cold, like he actually did something horrible.
To himself, he did. He stabbed a form of his own dad. How could anything be worse than that?
He felt relieved it wasn't real, but horrified at the thought he could one day just break. The thought scared him.

“Can.. we watch some movies today?” The question was sudden, but he believed it could relax him.

He wanted time with just him and dad. Those five days without him made him think back on the days they did. He missed it terribly.
Now with that rabbit seemingly doubling down on being his ‘dad’, he wanted his real dad even more.
“Sure, bud, that sounds good.”

Chapter Text

Oswald ate his bagel as Stephen made his own. The boy was lost in thought, staring into the counter distantly, his mind running with thoughts. The man couldn't help but wonder what his son could be thinking of.
He was a little worried, having noticed that since the incident his boy was a bit lost in the clouds. He wasn't sure what this could be a sign of. He seemed tense, almost afraid. This wasn't like him at all.
He couldn't help but think back on the conversation with Sheryl. Maybe he was onto something there. But he couldn't be sure, and asking Oswald too soon wouldn't go well.
He worried that odd animatronic had something to do with it, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions.
Though those marks are eerily similar to the ones I saw on-

“Dad? Are you ok? Your bagel is done.” Stephen turned toward his son, then at the finished bagel.
“Oh- sorry. I was lost in thought.” He took his bagels, spreading some cream cheese on the crisp bread.
“Didn't sleep very well. Might make some more coffee before we do anything.” He bit his bagel, almost halfway through.
“Can I have some? I promise I won't tell mom.” He clasped his hands together, doing the best puppy eyes he could.

“Ehhh, I don't know. We both told you how addictive this stuff can get. A boy your age doesn't necessarily need caffeine.” He started up the coffee maker, the beautiful sound of the brewing was music to Stephen's ears.
“One cup wouldn't make me an addict, dad.” The boy kept trying.
I don't want to sleep tonight.
“I'll think about it. But just so you know, your mom will kill me if she finds out I gave you a drop of caffeine. It's pretty easy to get hooked on this stuff.”

“Oh- so are you and mom hooked?” Oswald wasn't trying to sound sassy, but it came natural to him.
“Eat your bagel, Oswald.” The man chuckled, taking the last bite of his bagel. The boy looked at the coffee maker longingly. If only there was something he could do to just get rid of his dreams altogether. He's suffered enough in the span of two days.
Two days, all of that was two days.
The thought didn't settle well with him. It was terrifying to think of what that thing could do the next night. Or the night after that. Or how long it will remain in his mind.
Though, there is still the chance this is all just a figment of his own imagination, a trauma response. Maybe it will all go away in due time.
I sure hope so.

He looked over when Stephen picked up the coffee pot. His hopes were high.
“A small cup? Pleaaase, dad?” He wouldn't quit until he at least had a sip. A small cup. Anything.
“Ok, ok, fine. A small cup.” His dad caved, grabbing a small cup and his coffee cup from the pantry. Oswald smiled victorious.
“Thank you. I won't tell mom, I promise.”
“You better not, I wanna keep my TV privileges.” He poured them both a cup, adding some sugar to Oswald's.
He wouldn't like straight, black coffee.
He handed Oz the cup, watching him take a sip before immediately setting it down, biting his bagel.

“Hot?”
“Yeah.. I guess I should've blown on it a bit before drinking. Oh well.” It was very hot, but thankfully didn't burn the tip of his tongue. He remembered always complaining when he managed to, the weird feeling of numbness always discomforting.
“Yeah. If you start drinking coffee when you're older, you'll get used to that burn. Or just wait.” He took a sip. The warmth of the drink was always comforting to him, in a way.
“Yeah, I'll keep that in mind.” He blew on the hot drink carefully before taking a sip. That did the trick, though it was still pretty warm. It reminded him of hot chocolate, minus the sweet chocolate flavor. They were made the same way: a powder and hot water.
Though, when he thinks about it, there are many ways to make hot chocolate. They only ever got the powder cause it was easier.
Still good, so he wouldn't complain.

“So, any ideas for today? Except for leaving the house?” Stephen leaned against the counter, eating his second bagel.
“Uh.. hm.. I don't know.” He didn't think about it too hard, only that he could draw or lay about. His legs were still sore from all that running, his ankle hurt a bit after Bonnie grabbed on it.
I never checked on it. Probably should.
“Maybe we could.. watch something?” His dad offered.
“I don't know, I did that yesterday. I kinda wanna go outside.” He knew he wouldn't be allowed to go anywhere, but as long as he was on the property, he could just chill outside. Hopefully.

“Hm, sure. But let's stay on the porch. It rained last night and I don't want you tripping into mud.” The man finished his coffee, setting his cup in the sink.
Wow, that was quick.
“Before that, we gotta clean those stitches.” He moved off the counter.
Oh, yeah. The stitches.
“I think I can do it. I watched mom do it and it looks pretty easy.”
“Alright, but I'd feel a bit safer if I watched.”
“That's… alright.” He didn't have the heart to argue. The injury could've never happened if I wasn't being so salty that day.
He ate the last of his bagel before jumping down from the stool, following his dad to the bathroom.

“It's pretty easy to clean, I'll just need help with wrapping it.” Oswald grabbed a rag, pouring a bit of soap in it.
“Might not be as good as mom's, but I'll do my best, lil’ man.” Stephen grabbed the gauze from the med kid. He, unlike Sheryl, was a bit more sensitive to injuries. Especially stitches. He was always the queasy guy in the group, which only amplified after the bite. He'd get sick if he looked for too long. It was a bit embarrassing, especially when even Oswald was better handling gore during horror movies.

Oswald unwraps his arm, checking out his wound. It seemed a bit better than yesterday, but still pretty hard to look at. He took the rag, gently dabbing his arm. It was hard to look at the injury, a reminder that what he's been through was real.
Really real.
A part of him probably would've gone down the denial route otherwise, thinking it was all some horrible dream. But this injury stands as a testament to that mind set.
If only.
It might be considered false bliss, but if he was happy, why would he complain? But, the harsh reality loved kicking him down.
I won, so there is something good about this.

When finished, he looked over at his dad.
“You done?” He asked, a bit nervous. He didn't want to accidentally hurt him.
“Yea.” Oswald offered his arm, turning it sideways to make the injury a bit easier to ignore. Stephen was as gentle as he could be, wrapping it slowly.
Huh, it's not a terrible job for a first time. Sheryl would be proud. 
He finished, a bit proud of how well it looked. Oswald seemed content so, surely he did it good enough.
“Is it too tight?”
“It's fine, dad.” Oswald jumped down from the stool.
“Alright then.” He waits as Oswald goes to grab his sketch book and pencils, wondering if he should try drawing again. He was pretty good at it in high-school, maybe he still has the skills today?
Probably not. Might be a bit rusty.
Despite that, he ended up joining his son in drawing.

The day was pretty clear, despite the rain from the night before. It was mostly quiet outside, other than the cars that occasionally drove by.
A rarity, but occurred every now and then.

“I've been wondering. Where did you get that sketchbook from? Looks pretty old..”
“Oh, a friend from school gave it to me.”
“Oh? Are they a new friend, or an old friend?”
“New.”
“Aw, that was pretty nice of them.” He had a sketch going, unsure what the picture even was. It looked like the start of a scenery drawing.
Better than my old drawings of those freaks.
“What's their name?”
“Gabrielle.”
“Oooh, a girl.” He teased, earning a small punch from his kid. It was the usual playful banter they usually did.
“Don't make it weird, dad.” Oswald couldn't help but cherish this.
The rabbit could only dream of having a moment like this. He would never have what we got.

A week of taunting only made the boy more bitter toward the creature. Speaking of the creature.. all drawings he did was mostly him venting anger. The rabbit getting hit by a car wasn't something he'd draw a week ago.
But at this point, it was personal now.
“I'm not, I'm not. Just a lil’ messing.” The man thought back on how he met Sheryl. They were friends for a while, having met in middle school. He never would've gotten the courage if it weren't for them.
Them.
He hasn't talked with them since they left high-school, and hasn't hung with them since the incident. Things got tense, too much for Stephen to handle. Though, he couldn't help but wonder. Where were they now?
Probably having a nice life with their own families. He remembered how they'd talk about their plans for the future.

“I wanna be a musician! Maybe finding a girl with the same interests. We could go around the world, playing music. It would be so cool.”

“I'm gonna make video games. Y'know, like the arcade machines but more like- cooler. Maybe they'd be more for older kids.”

“I'm probably going the mechanic route. I wanna make cool robots just like Fredbear and Spring Bonnie. I could make a lot of people happy.”

“You guys are so wimpy. I'm going full on rock star. It's gonna be sick! I'll have fire shows, all loud and like- cool. I'd get so famous! Beats going the sissy baby restaurant route like dad.”

It was nice when things were simple, when they were calmer. But after the party, it just wasn't the same. He wondered if any of them actually grew up into the careers they wanted. He sorta did, for a while.
Though, he mostly took on the job so the accident couldn't repeat. So no child will ever get hurt. That.. didn't work so well.
But, maybe now, the machines are much safer than the 80s.
Much less violent people working the restaurant.

Much better people than him.

He remembered that headline, the uproar of the community that occurred after. The thing he thought was: poor Michael.
It brought chills to him, knowing he's visited the home on several occasions, talking to both parents from time to time. The father was always off putting, always seemingly watching. He had those creepy silver colored eyes that seemed to judge your every move.
He never liked the guy.
But him being a serial killer was, well not the last thing he thought, a bit of a surprise.
The headline of the newspaper only solidified his parents' distrust toward the family, cutting them off from him.

Local family friendly business co-owner, William Afton, found as the main suspect in murder of six children at the local Fredbear's family Diner and Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria. Any and all sightings are to be reported to local police.

He didn't know what to think of at the time other than worrying for Michael. The father never had the greatest relationship with his son, and it was clear the tension was high between them. Especially after 83.
It only got worse from there, but Stephen never found out if Michael was okay. It worried him, and still does to this day.
While the guy was the main orchestrator of the prank that killed the poor kid, that was never his intention. It was a boost as the boy called it at the time. Something to prove the things weren't out to kill the anxious kid. It was a bit far, yes, but it was supposed to, mostly, be a harmless prank.
The guilt surely wrecked the group, ending in them splitting apart. But to this day, Stephen still mostly held them dear to him.
Maybe one day I'll come across one of them.

“Hey, dad. Whatcha’ drawing?” Oswald broke him from his reminiscing.
“Oh, nothing really.” The man looked down at his drawings. It was just the nice scenery of a street.
Ha, still got it.
“I'm more of a background artist. Never got any skills at drawing people or animals.” He used to draw the animatronics back then, but now downright refuses to recreate their likeness in any way.
“Oh, that's pretty cool.” Oswald looked at the drawing, then out toward the street.
“Is it our street?”
Looking over then drawing, the man took a double take. Did I really draw Michael's street? He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous habit.

“Might be some random street.”

Chapter Text

A harsh knock on the door woke the boy up from his slumber.
“Steph! Steph! Hurry up, man!” He recognized the British accent pretty quickly. He groaned as he got up getting dressed. He made his way downstairs, unable to move past his mom without getting her attention.
“Stephie! Honey, where are you off to?” She looked over at her son, turning off the vacuum.
“I'm off to hang with my friends.” He loved her dearly, but sometimes her overprotective motherly side got on his nerves. He just wanted to have fun.
“Oh. The uh.. Afton kid? You aren't doing anything dangerous, are you?” She was always wary of Michael's chaotic personality. The rebellious side of his always made her nervous he'd rub off on Stephen.
It already did, but only slightly.

“Nah, just down by the country store. I'll be safe, I swear.” He rolled his eyes, heading toward the door.
“Make sure to call me through the store phone if there is any trouble, don't talk to strangers, and don't take cigarettes!” She piled more warnings on him as he walked out. He listened to every one, so there was no point in listening to them again and again.

“Yo, Steph.” Michael was standing to the right, patting his shoulder as they walked down the porch steps.
“Jer and Vince are already there.” The two boys crossed the street, checking the surroundings before going into the woods.
“I had trouble sleeping last night, it wasn't my fault dad stayed up watching his show.” He ran to keep up with Michael, who started running ahead.
“Hey! Ugh- Michael-!” Stephen struggled to keep up, never having been the active type. The two made it to the abandoned convenience store. It has been left to time, the time it closed unknown to the boys. But they claimed it as their own, since nobody bothered tearing it down. It was a bit more fixed up that it was a year ago, but it was still pretty run down. The windows have been boarded up, the door lock bashed on the ground, and some lights strung up around the building's walls.
It was a fixer upper, but a pride to the boy's.

“Yo! Guys!” Jeremy opened the front door, waving them in.
“Come on! Vince already got the fireworks!” The boys rushed in, excitement plastered on their faces.
“Really?! I thought his dealer would be a cover up for his dad.” Michael went over to Vincent, who was crouched over some fireworks.
“Oh please, he may be a cop- but he doesn't suspect me that much, Mr.List of Delinquencies.” Vince elbows Michael, who returns the hit.
“Oh please, it's only like what.. 5 offenses?” He plays it off, checking out one of the inactive fireworks.

“Your dad is starting to detest us, so clearly it's enough to piss him off.” Stephen sat down near the circle, looking at the colorful tubes of gunpowder. This was going to be a fun party.
“Well, he's a grouch, everything pisses the big guy off.” Michael scoffed.
“Besides, what's he gonna do? Pull me out of school or something?” He pulled out a stolen box of matches, setting it by the pile.
“Niiiice. You managed to sneak them by?” Jeremy checked them out, testing one to see if they were dry. When it lit, he blew it out.
“Dry, and ready.”

“Eh, they were easy to take. Dad kept them in a drawer he barely goes through. I'm surprised they even work. I did take his lighter in case they didn't, so two people can light them.” Michael sat the lighter down, Stephen's eyes glued to them immediately. He was always the fire guy of the group.
“Siiick, the more in the sky, the better. You think Stacy might think I'm cool?” Vince laid on his side, posing just to be extra.
“Pfffft. As if. If I was a girl and saw you like that, I'd run for the hills.” Jeremy playfully jabbed.
“Aw man, come on.. I've been practicing my talking.”
“To what? Your mirror?” Michael chuckled lightly.
“No! . . . Maybe.” Vince huffed, crossing his arms, directing his attention to Stephen, who was messing with the lighter.
“Yo, Steph. You gonna ask Sheryl out to the party? Or you're gonna chicken out again.”
“I'm gonna ask.”

The group went quiet, a bit surprised by his confidence. Usually he'd stutter out, or fumble yes's and no's on the tip of his tongue. But he seemed rather put together.
“Woow, Mr.Big shot over here. Finally asking the girl he's been crushing on since middle school.” Vince spoke with a bit of their usual mockery, but held a genuine expression. They were always each other's wing men, never actively messing up their game.
“You got this man, I'm deadass when I say this. I'm sure she likes you.” Michael pats him on the back. He was very sure, enough, to put money down on it and expecting a win. He's seen her gazes, her smiles at his antics.

“I hope. I've been building myself up a bit.” Steph waved the lighter around, putting out the flame.
“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I've noticed she's been checking you out.” Vince added, going into his bag for something. Probably gum, Stephen knew his off habits by now.
“So I have a shot. That's better than nothing.” Stephen leaned back on his hands, feeling a bit better with the reassurance.
“Sick, then good luck, man. I'm totally gonna win over Stacy. We can have a double date.” Vince laid back on the ground, arms adding a bit more comfort.
“That's if she says yes.” Michael mumbled.
“She totally will.”

“By the way guys, just in case you forgot, there is one minor issue.” Jeremy looked over the firecrackers.
“What?” Stephen sat back up, followed by Vincent.
“The adults nearby. We gotta go somewhere a bit further than this area. Somewhere far enough where people will simply ignore the sounds.” The boys thought for a moment, until Vincent snapped his fingers.
“I got it.”
“What?”

“There was this abandoned barn deep in the woods near the school. We go clean it up, make it look all cool. Then boom, we got a perfect party. Far enough from town, and still stable enough to host the party inside"

"Huh, sure, sounds pretty cool. You sure it's safe though? We can't have anyone getting any injuries." Jeremy was a bit more nervous when it came to possibilities. Though he did get a bit of pushback here and there, this round was pretty fair. The boys held of for now.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. We can go check it out now if you want, it's not too long of a walk. It's just like- 10 or so minutes of walking. But it would be really cool if we have the party there. Trust me." Vince reassured, easing Jeremy a bit.
"Yeah, we definitely can't shoot off fireworks over here. My dad lives nearby and y'know how he gets. Let's check out the barn first though, I don't want any lawsuits." Michael stood up, the boys followed behind.
"Alright then. Vince, lead the way."

Chapter Text

Oswald stared at his sketchbook, unsure what he even created at that point. He was oddly proud of the car hitting the rabbit, but there was other stuff he drew he didn't even remember drawing. He was partly absent minded, but also lucid? He wasn't too sure. It's a feeling he didn't like too much.
He looked over the drawings. The odd bunny with a weird vest and bowtie caught his attention. It had a weird looking face, like those bunny costumes adults would wear during Easter. It had those same stars he remembered seeing on the shadow rabbit in his dreams. It didn't appear to be animatronic, more like a strangely put together patchwork suit. He didn't like it.
There was a matching bear alongside this odd rabbit, as well as another bunny off in the distance from them. It looked feminine compared to the other rabbit, its eyes bigger and having a wider smile. Creepy.
Who are these people?

He decided to close the sketch book, pretty much done with drawing for the day. He looked over at his dad, who was still drawing.
What could he be thinking?
He seemed lost in thought, so he didn't bother him, instead looking out toward the street. He spotted someone walking along the sidewalk, seemingly minding their own business. Looking over toward the house across the street, he noticed the curtain of a large window pulled slightly back. Someone was just standing there, watching.
Maybe they're looking at the passerby?
Looking a bit closer, he saw the person staring at him. Their face was hard to make out, but they looked deadpan, almost emotionless. It was creepy, off putting, like they were watching him.
Maybe they just like watching fathers and sons hang out? That sounds stupid.
Oswald couldn't make up any excuses to make the person less creepy. They were just flat out watching him.

Looking over to the passerby, he noticed he stopped walking, looking directly at him. He made the same face as the guy at the window, a deadpanned glare that pierced his very soul. It was starting to alarm the kid.
“Uh.. dad?” He looked over at his father, shaking him lightly. The man looked over, taken out of his reminiscing.
“Huh? Wha- oh. Hey, what's wrong, bud?” The boy motioned over toward the road, his father following the hint.
“What? What am I lookin’ at?” Oswald was confused.
Couldn't he see the strange people?
He looked over, seeing nothing. The passerby and the guy at the window were gone.
“Oh.. nothing.. I uh.. saw a squirrel.” He didn't want to sound insane, but they were already gone so it didn't matter.
“Oh. Aw man, I missed it. Was it cute?”
“Yeah.. he was eating a nut.”
“Dang. You should tell me if it comes back.” The man went back to his drawing.
Maybe when a random squirrel decides to show up.

He opened his sketchbook, writing a bit. He decided to journal what happened rather than just ignoring it.
Maybe I should start Journaling my nightmares.
The thought made sense. There were always those older guys in movies that would journal their odd encounters to keep track of any notes they'll need later. If he journals his nightmares, maybe he could find a weakness or note new information. Whatever was happening was seemingly pretty big, or at least that's what the rabbit thinks.
If the rabbit is excited for what's to come, then it is going to be very bad. It made him a bit anxious.
The thought of this just being his own imagination was starting to dim in reality. It just seemed so.. real? He doesn't know what to think just yet. Maybe he needs more time.
Whatever it was, he wanted to be ready for whatever it is that's coming.
Especially to keep them safe.

He wrote his nightmares in order. Night one, the rabbit chase, night two, the talk, everything he physically could remember. He tapped his pencil on the side of the book, looking over his notes.
Shadow Rabbit, Owl, The Rabbit.
There were bound to be more threats later. Just what exactly are they from? The shadow rabbit made a little sense, as it seemed to be somewhat of a copy of the rabbit itself.
But the Owl seemed out of place.
Who was this thing?
Thinking back, it definitely had something to do with the drawings of all the crying animatronics. It had to. But what did it mean?
He thought back on the pit. Maybe it was them?
Maybe they weren't acting on their own volition. Maybe the rabbit was controlling them? Were they still held captive there? Maybe they were victims of the rabbit in a way?
That seemed too far-fetched.
There was also Foxy that made the theory fall apart. If they were being controlled, wouldn't Foxy be under the same umbrella? Why was he left out?

This is a headache.
He couldn't figure it out, there just wasn't enough to go off of. He left it be.
He went back to the shadow rabbit.
It looks like the rabbit I drew.
He went to the page with the odd stitchwork drawings, looking directly at the weird rabbit. The star pattern was the same, the look not so much. Could they both be similar?
Maybe.
He could be a real mascot somewhere, somewhere the rabbit seemed to know of. He'd have to do a bit of research.
Maybe this is a reason to check out the library.

This was a historical event in his town after all, surely there were records somewhere in the library. He checked once when he was doing a project for school, so he knew it had to be somewhere.
But the memory of the unorganized room was a bit overwhelming. He'd have to clean and go through stuff just to find it. The thought wasn't exciting to say the least..
But, if it meant finding some important info, he just has to push himself forward. Though he might have to wait until his arm heals..
He was a bit annoyed by his current limitations, but the wait would be over soon. As soon as he's able to get back to full potential, then he could better prepare for whatever the ‘inevitable’ was.

He continued writing, taking small notes on the sides. He made sure his dad couldn't see his paper.
Don't need unnecessary stress.
This was his fight, he could take this on his own. He did it once, he could do it again. It might be easier since he isn't physical, but he couldn't take risks. Not this early.
The thing was unpredictable, a wild card, he didn't know its thoughts or plans. He couldn't assume just yet. He will take his time this round.
Maybe it would answer questions?
No, it isn't that stupid.
He'd have to use mind games to get his answers. The thing was pretty intelligent by the looks of it, so it wasn't going to be easy.
He'd have to play as well as it, somehow.
Maybe studying psychology will help?
Though he doesn't think he has the patience to sit down and study that.
If this thing wants to be my dad so bad, then I can easily provide the full experience.

The plan started to fall into place. If he gets the full experience, he might get annoyed enough to leave. If that doesn't work, plan B will. To full on find a way to get rid of him.
What popped into mind was one thing.
Agony.
If the stuff he cried and coughed up was agony, then surely what this creature produced was also agony. That had to mean something. He'd have to research a little on it.
Maybe there was a way to fully kill it.
There had to be, nothing is immortal.
He had a bunch of things on his mind, so much to research yet no choice but to wait.
The possibility of nothing being there was also a bit nerve wracking. There was also the chance nothing he did could even work.
He had to try, he just had to.

The sun started to set, the daytime was ending. Eventually they'd have to go inside, mom would come home soon, then eventually he'd be sent to bed. He would attempt to stay up, but if he couldn't then plan A can be set into motion.
Either way something would be done, and avoiding it wasn't possible. But that doesn't mean he couldn't at least try. Oh well.
But an idea crossed his mind.
Is it possible to sneak out to the library at night? Was it possible to get in?
Though, that might go too far even for Oswald. While he snuck out to Jeff's, he never broke in. He might've stolen a slice of pizza, but it was technically necessary to save someone. He was going to pay it back later.
Though technically fixing all those machines should technically be considered pay.

Other than releasing the rat, he technically didn't break the law. Though, he'd make up for the whole rat thing later.
But, breaking and entering wouldn't be something he could manage to do.
That plan wouldn't work.
He'd have to find something to keep him up. Something at home.
He had to think of something to do. He wasn't looking forward to dealing with another hindrance on night three.
After last night, he doesn't think he could handle another talk with the rabbit.
He took several deep breaths, trying not to think back on that.

Anything else.
He looked out toward the sky, seeing the clouds moving slow as the coloration of the sky was warmer. Oranges, yellows, even some nice shades of purples, all forming a nice looking sky. His favorite kind of sky.
Sunsets.
They were his favorite, but the thought of night only reminded him of what's to come. But he wasn't about to let the rabbit ruin the best time of day.
“Huh, it's getting late. Let's head inside.. I'll pop a movie in for you.” Stephen stood up, stretching before picking up his book. Oswald followed him inside, getting comfortable on the couch chair as Stephen looked through some movies.

“Hmm. Any preferences or could anything work?”
“I don't really mind. You can pick.” Oswald laid back, putting his sketchbook on the table in front of him. He'd spot Jinx walking into the room, calling her over.
“Hm..” Stephen put on a random monster flick for the boy. Nothing too scary, not this late, but nothing too boring. When the movie started, he walked out.
“I'm gonna get dinner started.” Before closing the door, leaving the boy to his movie. He walked to the kitchen, looking through the cabinets.
“Dinner.. dinner.. what to cook for dinner..” He found a frozen pizza in the freezer, deciding that to be tonight's dinner.
He preheated the oven, waiting for a moment before placing the tray inside. Watching the timer close.

Oswald sat back, petting Jinx as he watched his movie. He wasn't sure what this was, but it wasn't terrible. A little cheesy, but not enough to ruin it.
Jinx began to fall asleep on his lap, trapping him there until she woke up.
If only I could sleep as comfortably as you.
His current state would likely hurt him in the long run, especially next week when he returns to school. That won't be pleasant.
Hopefully by then he can get rid of the creature.
It was only Sunday, he had time. A few days that is. He doesn't remember how many days until he had to go back. He's never been suspended before so he anticipated at least three or four days of suspension, on top of the days mom will give him to recover.
The injury was severe enough to give him leverage. Thankfully.
But after that, he'd have to return to school. Hopefully by then the rabbit stuff will be over and everything will return to how it was.
Simple.

But, there would be a bigger crowd based on the news article his dad mentioned. It seems the town was slowly building back up in population.
Hopefully not because of that restaurant opening.
The coincidence would be way too conspicuous if that were the case. Just after dealing with the rabbit, Toy Freddy's emporium opens and a suplex of people move in? It couldn't be connected.
Though, it does sound pretty suspicious.
Oswald shook his head.
Not everything had to do with the rabbit. That would be ridiculous, even for me to think.
Though the odds were a bit.. off. But surely it was just a silly coincidence, and he was blowing things a bit out of proportion.
Just a coincidence.
Just a coincidence.

He looked back up at the TV, not sure what he was watching. He wasn't paying attention that much, the movie though seemed alright for the most part.
Maybe he could go back and rewatch it.

He looked toward the door.
Mom should be home soon.
He'd have to eat dinner, clean his stitches, and go to bed. Or at least pretend to. Maybe he could draw, or mess with a ball to stay awake. He still had that screwdriver, maybe he could make something with some supplies from the basement?
Nah, there ain't much in there anyway.
The window was still able to be opened, maybe he could sneak out somewhere.
Maybe not. It's muddy and they might check up on me at some point.
He saves the thought for later. Maybe a quick look couldn't hurt. He did it for five days in a row, what's the harm in another walk?
Maybe he could check up on Jeff, see if anything has changed. Though, the thought of going back there made him sick.
Yeah, maybe not. I'll walk by to see if he's ok. But no way am I going in alone.

“Dinner, Oz!” He was relieved. Being left with his thoughts only made up terrible ideas.
The boy got up, going to the dining room, an all too familiar smell ambushed him.
The irony is so high I might die of an Iron overdose.
He sat down at his usual spot, a bit more nervous. Could he really handle pizza after all that's happened?
I might be burnt out but it's not going to kill me.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself just in case he had a reaction. His dad laid down their plates, sitting at his spot.

“They are really keeping your mom on overtime.” He spoke, though Oswald could hear a bit of complaint in his voice.
“Yeah, they've been doing that recently. Though with such a small population.. It's odd. There aren't many people there.” If his dad can complain, so can he. On one hand, he understood a short staff. But on the other hand, who was going to the hospital this late? How many accidents can happen in a small populated town?
What goes on in there?
He always wanted to go to her job, but knew he couldn't. Too many tools that he could break or hurt someone or himself with, too much of a distraction. It made sense why they wouldn't want him there.
But it could be so cool.

He ate his dinner, surprised to find himself not reacting much to it. It was home-cooked enough to differentiate from Jeff's. He never had Freddy's pizza so he couldn't associate home with that.
He was internally glad he didn't give the pizza a shot.
Freddy's doesn't deserve my time.
They mostly ate in silence, not sure what to even talk about. But, Oswald couldn't help but wonder something. He decided to ask.
“So.. That restaurant.. now that it's opening and might have robots or somethin. Do you think they might open the Mill again?” Oswald was hesitant to ask, knowing his dad seemed oddly instant on avoiding the topic of animatronics. But maybe the talk of the Mill might be ok for him?

“Hm, it's possible. I might take my job back if they do. But, who knows?” He seemed relaxed at the moment, so the question was ok. Oswald decided to try another.
“Do you think the restaurant will stay open?”
“Eh, not sure. Kids might.. like them.” He shrugged, seemingly a bit tense. Oswald took the hint to back down a bit.
“Eh, they might look ugly or something. I'm definitely too old for them. I like Jeff's.”
“Jeff is cooler, definitely. Speaking of.. he said you fixed up the machines there. I gotta say I'm pretty impressed.” He ruffled the boy's hair a bit.
“Well. I was bored waiting for you so.. I fixed them up a bit. Found the parts laying around. It was pretty fun playing games from your time.” He shrugged it off.
“Hey, don't go making me feel old.”
“You are old, dad.”
“Yeah, cause you're young.” He playfully nudged the kid, careful of his arm. The boy playfully scoffed in return.
“Yeah, yeah. Your old man denial is showing.”
“Oh shush.” Stephen rolled his eyes, continuing to eat his pizza.

Oswald finished his dinner, taking his plate to the kitchen. He wouldn't be allowed to clean it, so he rinsed it off before putting it in the sink.
Soon I'll be back at my fullness. Soon.
“Hey, dad, I'm cleaning my arm.”
“I'll be right there.” Oswald knew he'd have to wait for his presence, but it didn't bother him much. He waited until the man walked in.
“You are so slow.” He teased lightly, removing the gauze.
“Well, I could be much slower if you'd like.” The man sat down, yawning slightly. He looked pretty tired.
“Nahhh, you're slow enough.” The boy cleaned his arm carefully. It was much easier now, not stinging as much. He seemed to be healing quite well. Though, not enough to fully be able to move yet. He wrapped his arm gently, surprised that it wasn't as hard as he thought.
Though, using his non-dominant arm was a bit challenging.

That might be a pain when I go back to school.
He jumped down, showing his work to Stephen, who was dozing off. When he came back to awareness, he nodded.
“Looks good..”
“Dad.. when did you wake up? You look like you haven't slept at all.”
“Oh, I woke up early today.” He stood up, dozing off where he stood.
“Yeah, I'm.. I'm heading to bed. Do you need anything?”
“No, I'm fine. C'mon dad.” He helped guide the man to his room.
I'm having doubts he slept well.
“Night dad.” The boy watched as the man practically collapsed onto his bed.
How early exactly? Like 3am or something?
“Night, kiddo..”

Oswald went to his room, welcomed by the sight of Jinx waiting on his bed.
“Jinx, how did you even get in? Are you teleporting or something?” He pets her gently, getting a purr.
“You gonna help me pull an all-nighter?” The cat seemed confused, but meowed.

I'm taking that as a yes.

Chapter Text

10pm.
Oswald sat at his desk, facing the lamp away from the bedroom door, in case his father could see the light. He didn't want to be sent to bed just yet, or at all for that matter.
He looked over his notes a few times, trying to comprehend things he failed to notice before. Trying being a keyword. He couldn't understand a few things, which only added to a building headache.
He banged his forehead lightly against the desk, groaning in sheer annoyance.
Ugh. This doesn't make any sense!
Every time he felt like he was getting somewhere, he went into a what if and what about this roadblock that sent him back to square one.
He took a break, getting up from the chair to pace around his room, humming softly to himself. The song he remembered his mom would sing when he was young. It always brought him comfort. All of these thoughts made him tired, but he refused to sleep. Sneaking out of his room, Oswald went to the kitchen for some water. The coldness woke him up a bit, as well as just simply feeling nice.

When he returned to his room, he felt his entire body go rigid. On his bed, a present sat, wrapped in red and yellow wrapping paper. It was almost a complete match to his striped shirt. It was rather alarming.
Though, the main question was, how did it get there? He only left for about two minutes, and there were no sounds coming from this direction. He rubbed his eyes, testing if it was just his mind playing a trick on him.
It was still there.
Going over, he hesitated before poking it. It felt real. This was a real present.
This had blaring red flags all over.
Oswald grabbed the gift, walking out of the room, trying to find a way to dispose of it. Going into the next room, he pulled the attic stairs down.
Nobody really goes up here.
He climbed up, looking around until he found a good enough spot where the gift was completely hidden. When he felt content, he climbed back down, pushing the ladder back into place. He went back to his bedroom, finding the gift sitting right where it was before.

How? How is it back?
Oswald stuffed it beneath his bed, pushing boxes in front of it to conceal it. But when he got back onto his feet, he found the box back on his bed. Alarmed, he checked back under the bed, finding the box was gone.
It teleports.
So getting rid of it wasn't an option. Now what? He decided to simply ignore the box. Going back to his desk, trying to occupy himself with other things.
But, something in the back of his mind was bugging him. It kept telling him to open it. But, he knew it would end up doing something. It wouldn't be smart to open it.
So why am I walking toward it?
As if his body was moving on its own, he went over to the gift, looking at it closely. It was neatly wrapped, pretty nice looking. He took the box, shaking it. Something metal.
Probably a murderous bunny plush creature.

He sighed, just getting it over with. He opened it, but was rather surprised to find that no robot was inside. It was one of those toys he saw his dad show him many years ago.
He would put a paper slip of drawings on the inner wall of the cylinder attached to a stand, putting his eye up to the small slots on the side, shining a light on the top, then spinning it. It would show the pictures on the inside slowly blur into a full on animation. It was an ancient contraption, before actual animation.
Oswald dug into his old memories, trying to remember what it was called. Then, it clicked.
A Zoetrope.
But why though?

He'd check inside the box, finding a strip of paper. He gently picked it up, looking at the pictures. Surprised yet again that a rabbit wasn't on it, instead it was a completely new character. An anthropomorphic cat wearing a rather fancy suit. It seemed it would be an animation of him simply walking to the left, a hand on a cane and the other on his top cat. He seemed dressed like those old guys in old British movies Oswald used to watch when he was a young kid.
Those dark brown pants, the pocket watch poking out of his pants pocket, a black tailcoat, white button up shirt with a red bow tie. The black top hat had a small rose, wrapped to it with a red ribbon that went around the rim of the hat.
He even had a Cheshire smile, and a monocle, his fur mostly black, with two white stripes on his tail.

He shrugged, taking the strip and setting it up in the Zoetrope, going over to his desk to shine his lamp on the inside. Oswald put his eye up to the slot, spinning the cylinder.
The animation was rather smooth, the cat walking cartoonishly in a white background. The sound the Zoetrope made reminded him of those old projectors at the old movie theater.
Man, I miss that place.
It was, for the most part, pretty alright for a small loop animation. Surprisingly a nice gift.
That was, until he heard movement somewhere in the house. Oswald immediately stopped the zoetrope, listening closely. But, he heard nothing. Just silence, and dad's distant snoring.
Maybe mom came home?

He quickly checked, cracking open his bedroom door to peer out. Nothing. No sign of his mother. It was oddly quiet. Jinx was asleep on his bed so it couldn't be her, and his dad was clearly asleep in the other room.
Must've been my imagination or something.
He closed the door, going back to his desk. Looking over the old Zoetrope, he saw just how old it really was. Small scratches along the side of the cylinder, the stand being a bit worn, the wood design littered with small chips. The inside seemed a bit rusted, but otherwise the thing was still in good condition.
It worked so, it was good enough in Oswald's eyes.
He decided to spin it again, watching the cat move through the small slots. It was like watching an old timey movie, except smaller. While he wasn't one to fawn over old timey knick knacks and old vintage relics from his dad's time, or anyone's time, it was still a rather interesting topic to him. Something that a kid his age would've found joy in decades ago, or even centuries ago. It always got him curious.

The Zoetrope was something from the 1800s, way before his father's time, maybe before his grandmother's time. He wasn't too sure on when she was born.
Maybe he could ask her at some point.
But, nonetheless, the thing intrigued him. Could be cool to make his own animation. He had enough skill to draw.
But not the patience. Not at the moment, at least.
Though, he couldn't help but wonder.
Who gave this to me, and why?
Surely it couldn't be the rabbit. Firstly it was dead, and secondly it could never do something nice for Oswald. It just wasn't in its nature.
Dad's asleep, mom's at work. Then.. who?
The implication of it being a stranger was scarier than it being a gift from the rabbit. At least he somewhat knew what the rabbit would and could do gave him a slight advantage. But a random person was unpredictable.

Who just gives gifts to random 10 year olds anyway?
The thought of those strangers who shared him down earlier that day only raised more alarms. Though, he wasn't even sure if they were real to begin with. They disappeared before he could even get dad to see them.
He shook his head. He couldn't think of any plausible answers.
Thinking only freaked him out more.
He sighed, spinning the Zoetrope to ease his stress. Though, he noticed something was.. off. Peering over it, he saw that the slip was completely blank.
Looking through the slot, he saw nothing but white.
Where did the cat go?

He stopped the zoetrope, taking out the slip to look over it. Yeah. The cat is gone.
Before he could even think of how it was possible, he heard unmistakable clicks of heels somewhere in the house.
Now all the boy could think was how it was possible for a character to leave his animation, let alone become real.
Then, it clicked. The boy panicked.
This thing is real. It's in the house.
He checked by pinching himself, the pain of it only brought more terror. He didn't know if this thing was a threat, or what it was capable of.
This has to be the rabbit's doing. But, how?
Oswald couldn't think straight, the fear of death loomed over him. Just like before.
Just like it was when it was here.

This had to be some kind of hallucination, the rabbit showed it was fully capable of causing them. Those phantom jumpscares, the ghostly children, the laughter and screams of said children. He was definitely capable of causing them. It all simply linked to it.
No doubt.
But, that could only mean one thing. The nightmares, all of what the rabbit said and done so far. It's alive. It wasn't some trick of his own making, some kind of weird trauma response. The rabbit was still real, still alive, still able to fully mess with the kid's mind. Still able to alter his perspective of reality. Its words began to cause a pit in his stomach. He had clung to the possibility it was just his mind. But when it crashed down, it all came with it.
The threats were very real, and this was not over yet. He still had to deal with it.

With the threat of his life clear in reality, he looked around his room. Light, there had to be a light he could hold. But the flashlight he had was in pieces back at Jeff's.
He had to find an alternative way to fend off this creature. The cat.
He went to the Zoetrope, looking over it some more. Finding nothing, he checked the box. And there, at the bottom, was another piece of paper he seemed to miss.
He took it, reading over what looked to be a riddle.
Of course, cause why would it ever want me to have an easier time?

“Mr. Whiskers has entered your home.”
“While not seen, he does still roam.”
“Through your eyes, he won't appear.”
“The trick to sight is quite near.”

“Still he hides in silent frame”
“You have been given the key to this game.”
“Spin the circle, watch with hope.”
“And bring him forth through a slitted scope.”

Oswald reread the riddle over and over, looking it over a few times. So the cat had a name? Wonderful.
Though, what alarmed him were the hints. He could gather the cat could not be visibly seen through his eyes, but can become visible if a circle is spun? He took a few moments before figuring it out.
The zoetrope. If it is spinning, then I'd be able to see him?
He picked up the zoetrope, spinning it. He looked around his room, looking for any signs of the cat. Nothing.
So he hasn't gotten to my room yet?
He hoped he wouldn't have to wait until 6am for it to leave. Checking the clock, it was only 10:40pm. He'd have to wait at least eight hours until he was safe.
He wasn't sure if he could make it.
He checked over the riddle one last time. It was apparent the cat was roaming, he could still hear the faint clicking of his heels. He would have to listen for him, and also hope he leaves his dad alone in the meantime. There was also the fact the rabbit didn't seem too fond of his dad, so there wasn't anything stopping him from sending anything to kill the man.

Oswald hopes that the rabbit knew the outcome of killing his father. The rabbit clearly wanted obedience, as well as some form of father and son bond between the two. Killing his dad would only worsen the already strained tension between them.
Surely the rabbit knew that.
So, then the cat wouldn't go for his father.
Right?
Being in reality, he had no omnipotent rabbit to give the answer to him. He was all on his own here. For better or for worse.
Though, with the Zoetrope, surely he had a shot now. But, surely waiting in his room wouldn't protect him. The cat was roaming, most definitely coming toward his room. To avoid being cornered, Oswald made the decision to roam. Leaving the sanctuary, he spun the Zoetrope, looking around the hall.

Nothing was there, but he could hear the distant sound of heels toward his left. The room with the attic staircase.
With that, Oswald went down to the kitchen. With the safety of two possible exits, the kid felt a bit more confident in his chances. Beating the cat without a light source would be a pain, but as long as he could hear him, he can avoid him instead. He also had plenty of places to hide if necessary.
What was a bit unnerving was the fact the Zoetrope did make noise. If he were to hide, he'd have to stop it from moving, which would make the cat, supposedly, invisible to the naked eye.
The thought was a bit terrifying, but could be worked around. As long as the cat remained in another room entirely, he could survive.

He just needed to play the patient game.

Listening for his distant footsteps, he could hear the cat enter the hallway, alarmed by another door opening. It was a bit further, so it had to be his bedroom.
So leaving my bedroom was a good idea.
He listened closely, pressing his ear to the door. He could hear the cat shutting the door, thankfully not going to the other bedroom. Not so thankfully coming directly to Oswald's door.
As silent as he could manage, he quickly made his way to the dining room, gently closing the door. He could hear an odd hum from the cat, a tune he didn't quite recognize.
But something felt familiar about it.
Instead of standing there questioning the origins of a random tune, he hid under the table, pausing the Zoetrope. He'd hear the cat enter.
Much faster at moving around than the rabbit.
He watched the door open and close seemingly by itself. That was enough proof that he couldn't see the cat without the zoetrope. He wasn't sure how he could spin it without making noise. Soft clicking of heels walked by the dining table, the boy covering his mouth in silent terror. He wouldn't be able to know if he was caught or not.
The tension was almost unbearable.

But, by the looks of it, he walked by and into the living room, seemingly not noticing the boy. Oswald took his chance to leave back into the kitchen. These creatures had a set path. It would walk in a circle, usually at least.
The benefit of it not being able to enter the same door it just came through was also something worth noting. Unless it was chasing him, he could use that to his advantage. But then, if anything we're to lead it back, that might ruin his plans. It was best to always be a room away, just to be able to listen.
However, he usually left during the nights with the rabbit. This was a game of endurance, something he is somewhat used to. Or maybe this was a possible test? Or maybe a punishment for avoiding the rabbit. Would the rabbit punish him for simply not sleeping?

Oh who am I kidding, of course it would.
The rabbit, while being a mindless beast before, seemed to have received a personality. Or at least more of a personality than a cruel, cunning child murderer. He seemed more instant on having his way, seemingly more evil in a way. Or, it seems that way. It never really talked before, or at least for the most part other than garbled taunts. Now, with a voice, his personality shined a bit more.
Oswald wasn't sure if that was more threatening or more annoying. He settled for both.
Listening to the hitman the rabbit seemingly hired, the cat seemed to have re-entered the dining room. As anticipated, it went to hallway one.
So he moves in a giant circle? You'd gotta do better than that to get me, rabbit.

He went into the dining room, following the cat's path. It definitely didn't follow the same rules as the rabbit, able to enter his bedroom if he so desired. Which made this a bit more challenging, but at least it was interesting.
Though, that begged the question. What was the purpose of the zoetrope? He could simply listen and follow, not necessarily needing to see him. But, maybe there was a point? Though, it seemed more reckless having the ability to see him, at the same time, making noise and alerting it right to him.
He kept it just in case.

He could hear the door to the second hallway open, allowing him to enter hallway one. He'd look up toward the attic.
Could he go up there?
The rabbit never went there unless he chased him up there. So, would the cat also ignore the attic? There was the slim chance it wouldn't, but also the shot that he would and Oswald could find an easy way to flat out avoid the entire entity all together.
Deciding to test this theory, he went up into the attic. If all goes to hell, he did have the small toy box to hide in. All seemed well.
He sat near the toy boy, setting the zoetrope down next to him. He could hear the cat enter hallway one.
Must've entered a bedroom and shifted routes?

He pressed his ear against the floorboards, listening for his movements. He could hear him getting a bit too close toward the attic staircase.
Pull that down. I dare you.
He'd hear the cat tut, a soft disapproving sigh followed.
“Hiding up in the attic? How utterly disappointing. I expected more from you, Mr.Philips.”
I'm sorry. It talks?!

He'd hear the staircase was pulled down, signaling his time to hide. He hid in the toy box, cracking it open, only to see nothing, despite the trap door opening right before his eyes.
Oswald felt tense, his blood feeling a bit too cold under his skin. The cat seemed smarter than the mindless rabbit that hunted him before.
Or at least the physical rabbit.
He'd hear the cat grumble, kicking over the Zoetrope. It didn't seem to like the contraption, giving a clear sign of disdain toward it.
Did he not like being seen or something?
That flashed an idea in his mind. There were always these odd characters that would appear in a show he liked watching. If anyone saw them, they'd freeze in place. Perhaps the cat worked the same way?
Or maybe it had a second purpose the riddle purposely left out?
Or maybe he just doesn't like being trapped on a piece of paper.
Only one way to find out.

As he heard the cat's footsteps get a bit further, he slowly reached out of the toy box, picking up the Zoetrope. He'd spin it.
As if popping into existence, he could finally see the cat. It was frozen in place, reaching toward a random box.
Wrong box, dummy.
It seemed frozen in time, easing Oswald out of the toy box slowly. Despite his eyes darting toward him, he didn't move. He seemed annoyed.
It looked much creepier than the animation. His smile seemingly permanent, his eyes wide with deep black irises. Just like a cat.
But wrong.
“So, you do have a weakness.” Oswald kept the zoetrope spinning, holding it close to him.
There was a purpose to the Zoetrope.
Oswald took the opportunity to leave the basement, earning a hiss from the angered feline. There wasn't a way to trap him up there, sadly, but there was now a leverage. He could hear him move, but knew he was stuck up there for now.
Or for as long as the zoetrope is spinning.

“So, Mr. Uh- Whiskers. Are you willing to talk to me, or are you gonna be a pain like everyone else?” It wouldn't hurt to shoot a shot at getting answers. Probably.
“I was not appointed to answer your childish questions, child.” The British accent reminded him of something. Or rather someone. But he couldn't remember where. It seemed like a continuous cycle. It was rather annoying.
“Appointed? So you were hired?”
“I was quite clear, was I not? I am not inclined to answer the questions of a child of ten.” The way this cat spoke boggled Oswald.
Great, he speaks in old timey English.
“Then I guess I'll just leave you up there. I can stay here all night.” He spun the Zoetrope, hoping the threat worked. It seemingly has.
“You wouldn't. The grime of this attic is sickening!”
“Then, answer me. I may let you out and about.” He was partly lying. He wasn't planning to let this creature walk around, that would be pretty stupid. This thing was clearly hired to hurt him, or at least do something.
“Eughhh, he will decommission me. I cannot answer all the questions you have, young man.”

“He? Whose he exactly?” The boy looked up at the attic, as if he could see the cat through the floor.
Was the rabbit a man? Did it have a gender?
“He who is beyond life.” The cat's voice seemed oddly shaky, as if it was afraid of this mysterious man.
“I'm.. lost. What? You mean the rabbit?”
“That is all you'll be getting from me.” The voice shifts to a more threatening tone.
“Oh wow, real nice. Thanks.” The boy sarcastically retorts.
That wasn't helpful whatsoever!
“Okay, so you won't tell me who but can you at least say what he wants?”

“F a m i l y.”

Oswald felt an odd chill run through his body, the world around him going completely dark.

He was in an unfamiliar location, a restaurant of sorts. It looked somewhat similar to Freddy's, except with a much more comforting feel to it. Familiar.
The ground was purple, with confetti patterns all over, yellow in color. Like the old arcade flooring back at the old mall. He looked around, seeing children of all sorts of ages running around. A party?
On stage were two animatronics, one he's grown to fear over the span of a few days, the other he didn't recognize.
It was a giant yellow bear, wearing a purple hat and purple bow tie. It had a purple vest, covered in familiar stars in a lighter shade. The yellow rabbit had the same attire, minus the hat.

They moved robotically, singing an odd song. He felt compelled to move closer, a feeling that he tried ignoring. But, regardless of his efforts, he walked toward them.
Each step made the world around him go quiet, like a void. Everything around him became blurry, even the bear. All that stood before him was the yellow rabbit. It stopped moving robotically, now moving a bit more human-like. It crouched down, looking directly into the boy's eyes.
He motioned him closer, making the compelling force stronger. The boy attempts to fight against it, but all rational thought just up and left.

His mind was empty, all thoughts seemingly vanishing before he could even think of them. Was he thinking at all? Why couldn't he hear his own voice? It sounds distant, nonexistent.
The closer he got to the rabbit, the worse that feeling got.
What feeling? He couldn't feel anything.

“C o m e h o m e. W e m i s s y o u, O s w a l d.”

We? Whose we?
Your family. Our course.
How could you forget?
It's pretty obvious, isn't it?
The memories are still there.

Oswald inhaled sharply, coughing violently. He felt like he was drowning, his lungs struggling to even work. He breathes frantically, trying to get himself together.
He could hear the door behind him burst open, the sound of his father's voice filling his ears. But he couldn't hear his words clearly.
He felt arms pick him up, his vision still a bit blurry. Oswald rubbed his eyes, trying to readjust his vision.
He finally saw his dad, finally able to hear him.

“Oswald, what are you doing up? It's two in the morning..” His dad sounded alarmed, concerned for his kid who was seemingly choking for a whole minute.
Oswald felt dazed, confused, lost all at once. It was overwhelming.
He felt sick.
“Wha- what? It.. it's two?” Oswald sounded confused, which only added to the confusing situation.
Yay, I'm making it worse.
“Yes, it's four. What are you doing up this late?” Stephen looked around, eyes falling onto the zoetrope on the ground.
“What the… where- where did you get this?” He put the boy down, going over to pick the toy up.

“We don't own one of these..” He looked over it, a bit curious.
“Wait.. you- can see it?”
“Uh, yes? But, seriously, where did you get this?”

“Uh.. I uh.. It was a gift.”
“A gift? When did you get it?”
“Uh.. a few.. days ago?” This wasn't working. It was clear he was lying, hell, he couldn't even speak right. His dad was clearly not convinced, tapping his foot lightly. He was waiting for a real answer.
“Okay, okay. I found it outside. I brought it home cause I thought it looked cool." He blurted out the second lie he could come up with, much more convincing than the first one. It seemed to work on the man.
“Huh, where exactly?”
“An abandoned house.” Bad. Bad. That sounds really bad. Why didn't I just say the mill!?

“Oswald. You weren't urban exploring, were you?” He sounded much more firm than before. Ah jeez.
“I didn't.. go inside. I found it outside the house. Maybe someone.. left it there?”
“You promise?”
“Yeah..”
“Alright. As long as you don't go in I guess it's.. alright. Just, don't go near any more abandoned places. They're unstable, and there's always a chance squatters are there. They aren't very friendly half the time.” Oswald nodded, appreciating the concern. Though, he felt a bit bad for lying to the man's face.
The truth would concern him more.
It was for the best.

“Well, you can keep it. Just make sure you clean it. Thoroughly.” Stephen handed Oswald the zoetrope.
“I did.”
“Okay, good. But.. What are you even doing out here with it anyway?” Great.
“I was uh. Uhm. I couldn't sleep, so I decided to walk around a bit. I took it with me to uh, I don't remember actually.” He did weird stuff all the time, surely he'd let it slide if he didn't have a clear answer.
“Alright..? But, are you alright? You were having a bit of trouble there..”
“Yeah yeah. Just had a fit is all. I'm alright now.” It seemed to be good enough for the man to back off, but not before checking his forehead.

“Huh?”
“You seem a bit pale. Have you been drinking water?”
“Oh.. no. I'll go do that.”
“Get your water, then get to bed. No more coffee for you.” The boy nodded, a bit sad to lose a recently gained privilege, but he understood it wasn't negotiable. Especially right now. Things didn't look so good. The man would walk back to his bedroom, leaving Oz to retrieve some water. As he walked to the kitchen, he looked into the cylinder. The cat was back on the slip of paper, seemingly back to normal.

What even was all that?

Chapter Text

Sitting back at his desk, Oswald was looking over the Zoetrope. If his dad could see it, then surely it was real. Then, did the cat also exist or was it all some kind of hallucination?
The questions kept piling up that it worsened his headache. He took a drink from his water, trying to focus on the main thing.
Who hired this thing, who gave me the present, and why?
Based on the cat's words, the main culprit had to be the rabbit. The rabbit was all about a family, so surely the cat worked with him. Just like the Owl and Shadow Rabbit from his dreams. But he couldn't figure out how. The thing was supposedly beyond death.
What does that mean? Immortality or something?
He tapped his finger on his desk, tapping a rather odd sound to find comfort in, but he did. After a moment of thought, he turned around to look at the LED clock. Nothing was there.
Wait. I don't have a clock.
He shook his head, snapping himself back into reality.
I'm losing it.

He wasn't sure what time it was, probably around 3am. He was halfway there, so very close. He just had to stay up.
Stay awake.
He decided to check the hallway, looking at the clock on the table at the far end wall.
3:05am.
He went back to his bedroom, sitting back at his desk. The cat was still on the paper.
Nothing is happening. Something is wrong.
But, he couldn't complain. Finally some peace. After what his father found earlier, he was a bit nervous to be caught again. He couldn't risk questions.
He especially didn't want to make his father worry any more than he already was. He needed a break. Besides, this was his fight. He could surely handle it, given he's handled it once before.
Surely.

“Heeheehaha.”
A giggle broke him out of his trance. He looked around frantically, hoping he just imagined it. He did have moments of hallucinations. The laughter, the screams, he could still hear it vividly every now and then. But this seemed different, like it was in the room. The others sounded distant, like he was hearing it from somewhere else. Somewhere bad. It was a bit scary.
When nothing happened for a few minutes, he decided to go back to his desk. He'd tap the pencil on the edge, thinking of what to occupy his time with.
“Heeheehee”
Again.
He looked around, deciding to check around his room. Nothing under his bed, or outside his door, but when he opened his closet door, he froze. A small plush sat on the inside, exactly like his dreams. It was small, yellow, almost an exact copy of the rabbit. Though, it had a wider smile, far more expressive.
Unnerving.

He noticed it was holding a flashlight. It seemed better than the older one he had, but at least that one was given to him by a person. He hesitated before reaching for it, snatching it when he got the chance, immediately backing up.
He had a new flashlight, this one seemingly powered by the same batteries.
Good thing I kept my collection of them.
He shut the closet door, hoping to ignore the plush. He didn't ask for it, didn't want it, and sure as hell never will. The thing should be burnt, left in a fire where it belonged.
“Heeheehaha”
The giggle again. He opened the closet door, finding nothing.
Oh great, my moment of peace is ruined.
Looking around, he found the doll standing under his lamp, shaking slightly. It giggled, quickly shuffling behind the desk.
Odd.

He went over to his desk, looking behind it. Nothing. Oh well, at least it left. Sitting back at his desk, he went back to trying to draw. Trying to. Moving the pencil, his mind went blank as he drew, a common occurrence apparently.
“Heeheehee”
Oh shut up. He tried ignoring it, not feeling threatened by some silly old doll. What could a doll even do? Kill him? The giggling was a bit agitating, but probably harmless.
“Haahaahaa” He could hear shuffling around the room, small footsteps waddling about. He turned around, seeing the plush on his bed. He flashed the thing with his flashlight, trying to ward it off. Shining it for a few seconds, it giggled before going behind the bed, disappearing again.
What's with these things and light?
He shrugged it off, going back to his drawing. Looking at it, it seemed like some kind of rabbit. He tore the page.
No more rabbits.

“Heeheehaa”
He turned around, a bit alarmed. Instead of one rabbit, there were two. The yellow rabbit, and the shadow rabbit.
Okay, now I'm concerned.
He immediately shined them both, sending them back behind their respective places. The shadow rabbit went back into the closet, the yellow rabbit back under the bed. Hopefully only two will show up, the risk of dealing with too many would get overwhelming.
He turned back around, feeling a little safer when they're gone. They seemed utterly harmless, but he felt like they were watching. Like little spy cameras in the bodies of some weird plushies, which wasn't good. Whatever they were, he wanted them gone ASAP.
“Heeheehee” He turned around, seeing them both on the bed now. He shined them, both retreated under the bed with a giggle.

Perhaps this was all they will do?
This was easy enough. The cat alone was a bit easy, minus the fact he couldn't see him majority of the time. He was a cycle of movements with the occasional thought.
Was the rabbit losing his creativity?
He assumed it would all end at 6am like it usually does. He wondered what was so special about 6am that everything seemed to just go back to the norm. Oh well, the reason didn't matter. As long as it stopped, Oswald is happy.
Turning back around, he took some notes on the plush rabbits. It wasn't clear to him why they were important, but showing up both in dreams and reality couldn't be a mere coincidence.
Or the rabbit is really out of ideas.

He got up, checking the time in the hallway. 4:00am.
OK, two hours left. I can handle it.
He returned to his desk, but when he turned around, he froze in place. Three rabbit plushies, the first two on the bed and a new one in the closet. It looked like the patchwork rabbit he drew before. It was an odd shade of yellowish green, twisty whiskers, and half-lidded eyes. They were purple, matching his vest that had those purple stars, like the shadow rabbit. He seemed mischievous, going off from his facial expression.
Who was this guy?
He fit in, that was for certain. But, he's never seen this thing outside of his drawing. And that star pattern, what was up with that? It felt like he's seeing it everywhere now. Perhaps that also held some form of significance?
Two rabbits with that design had to mean something.
He snapped himself out of his moment of shock, flashing all three of them before they could move again. They all went back to their spots, the giggles starting to overlap, except one. The new one had an odd glitchy giggle, like some sort of warped effect. It wasn't pleasant to the ears, but interesting enough to take note of.

Oswald sat back at his desk, noting the new rabbit for later. He couldn't help but worry a bit.
They multiply every other time I see them. How many are there going to be?
He checked his sketch book, noting the female patchwork rabbit. She could be one, or maybe they'll just make variants of the same rabbit. Would Bonnie show up? He was a rabbit, surely a variant in some way.
Eh, probably not.
He waited for the signature giggle, hoping deep down that there would only be three. But, knowing the rabbit, the chances of anything being easy was nonexistent. Though, he could still have hope.
“Hahaha”
He turned around, seeing all three rabbits on the bed, standing side by side. Flashing them again, he'd watch them giggle and leave. The next round would dictate if things would be nice or not. He waited, tapping his desk, hoping to see if there was a set time they came about. After ten taps.

“Heeeheehaa”
He turned around. As anticipated, he saw four rabbits now. The new rabbit was completely black, aside from its eyes and mouth, which were white. The feminine patchwork rabbit is nowhere in sight. This was becoming complicated, these variants popping up from nowhere. He flashed them all away, noting yet another rabbit in his book.
Did the rabbit know of his leporiphobia? He began fearing rabbits since this started, so surely he knew. It would explain all the rabbits.
I hate that guy. That thing. Whatever it is.
He tapped on his desk, a bit delayed, but still counting.
“Heeheehee”
He turned around, all four bunnies waiting on the edge of the bed. He flashed them, watching them retreat. They had odd movements, looking lanky and mechanical. He wondered if he could reach them.

He turned around, wondering when this cycle would be over. Checking the time out in the hallway, he saw a sweet relieving 5:00am.
He turned around, no rabbits surprisingly, so he just went to his desk.
Maybe he could just walk around now? The risk of running into his dad would be a bit better than sitting here doing nothing. He got up, walking out of the room, going to the kitchen.
“Heeheehaa”
He turned around, seeing a rabbit at the door. The golden one. He flashed it, watching it scurry back behind the door.
Great. They're following me.
He rushed to the dining room, hiding beneath the table. One more hour. Just one more. Then he can go back to his room.
He was tired beyond belief, but knew better than to sleep now.

“Heeheehee”
He heard them moving about, but knew he'd be safe under the table. If they didn't know where he was, they were as much of a threat as a pebble.
“Hahahaha”
Huh, they're moving pretty fast now. He held the flashlight tightly in his hand, waiting for anything to happen.
“Hahaha”
The speed was a bit alarming, unsure if he should check or not. An hour would take a bit, and the speed of how they were moving seemed based on agitation. They were probably mad that 6am was getting closer.
“Heheheh”
He looked around his spot, seeing tiny plush feet moving about on the other side. They were actually moving now.

“Heeheehee”
He checked, unable not to anymore, the sight was alarming. There was another one. It looked like an old mascot, the ones he'd see on the old posters on Jeff's. It had a goofy smile, lazy eyes, and more details to its fur than the others. 
He did not like that one.
He flashed it, watching it scurry off where he could no longer see it.
Good riddance.
He hid back under the table, staying still as the others began padding around the table, as if they were doing a ritual. He began flashing them from under the table, getting rid of them.
“Leave me alone, darn it.” He whispered to them, not expecting them to do anything. But at least he tried.
“Heeheehee”
“Haahaahaa”
They kept giggling, which was starting to get on Oswald's nerves. He stepped out from the table, continuing to flash them. But, the more he looked about, the more would come.
They were too fast to get the details of, but it didn't matter anymore, not to Oswald. As long as they left, he would be safe.

They began running closer to him, getting closer and closer. He kept flashing them, starting to lose track of them all. It was overwhelming.
He tried going back under the table, realizing this battle was too much for him to handle. But the table was being blocked.
Every time one was flashed, another would step into its place.
How many are there!?
Oswald was getting overwhelmed, the things now able to grab onto his pants. He began to kick, struggling to get them off. He tripped, which only influenced him to use his flashlight as an actual weapon.
“Get off me!”

No matter how many he struck with the flashlight, they just came back, more and more each time. He was being consumed by the plethra that seemed to have just spawned into existence. He debated calling for help, unsure if his dad could even see what was happening. He attempted to angle the flashlight to flash them, but he could barely move his wrist at this point. Eventually they just took the flashlight. Bad. Bad. Bad. This was bad. Really bad.

"Da-"

Before he could yell, he'd hear it, the sweet release of freedom.
The sound of a grandfather clock.
They didn't own one, but he didn't bother thinking about it for too long. It was over! He'd open his eyes, finding plushies were no longer swarming him. But, one remained. The yellow rabbit plush laid on the floor, unmoving.
Oh great, now it's gonna stay like the Zoetrope.
He picked it up by the ears, uncaring for its feelings, sneaking back to his room. He threw the plush back into the closet, wrapping a shirt around it, tying it shut.
Try getting out now, you rat.
He collapsed on his bed, his body worn out and tired after six whole hours of nonstop madness.

I'm so tired.

Chapter Text

Stephen sat at the dining room table, reading the paper. He woke around 7am, a bit early for him but he didn't care. It was a nice day out, the sunshine bright and promising. A perfect day for errands, or even a walk. He planned the day ahead, his mind a bit unfocused from the paper.
Oswald walked into the dining room, seemingly a bit out of focus himself. He was barely staying awake at this point, exhausted beyond belief. Taking his normal spot, he rests his head against the table. He hasn't slept, having run around back and forth for a few hours of the night, and having sat for the other.
The state of fatigue and weakness was the worst part of sleep deprivation, making him feel vulnerable. But, he wasn't going to sleep just yet.

Stephen sat the paper down, taking a sip from his coffee.
“Hey, bud.. you uh. You alright? You went to bed like I said last night, right?” The man started, looking at his son with clear suspicion.
“Uhhhh… huh? Oh- uhm.. I slept a bit. I struggled a bit. I just wasn't tired.” Realistic enough to sound convincing. The man nodded, a bit worried.
Finding your own son awake at two in the morning, freaking out in the hallway, was surely something to worry a father. Especially given this is all new behavior, and quite out of character for the boy. Something felt wrong, but he wasn't being told what it was, which only added to his worry.

What was wrong with him?
He sighed, unsure how to ask his son. Sheryl said to be careful with him, but he wasn't sure how to. But, leaving the boy sitting with it all might hurt him in the long run.
Might as well try.
“So.. Last night. Wanna talk about it?”
“Uh.. sorry about that, dad. I was having a uh.. night terror.”
So much for trying to not make him worry. Oswald internally cursed.
“Oh.. gosh. I'm sorry. The incident must've gotten to you. Say, why don't we go out today? I got some shopping to do. Maybe some time outside the house will help you out?” Great Scott, Stephen. You aren't good at this. If only Sheryl were here.

“That sounds really nice actually.” Oswald smiled. Being cooped up in the house was starting to get to him a bit. Two whole days of nothing but nightmares and such made him feel disconnected. He was an outside kid, not an indoors kid.
Going outside would be great.
“Oh, alright then. Let's get breakfast out of the way before going. But, first, let's get those stitches clean.”
Oswald groaned dramatically, getting up, playing dramatic as he walked out. Stephen chuckled to himself, getting some bread to make toast.

Oswald washed his arm, wrapping it back up after minutes of light dabbing of the washcloth. He splashed his face in cold water, trying to wake himself up more, washing away the tiredness of his face.
He had stayed up for five days, his schedule already having been wrecked. So why was he so exhausted now?
What made this night so different?
Surely it was just a collective schedule that was making him so tired. Had to be.
He walked out, welcomed by the nice scent of toast coming from the kitchen. Feeling the need for food, he walked to the kitchen.

“Hey, bud. We got toast. Not much, but I'll make it up with a good lunch.” Oswald nodded, taking his toast. It was enough for him, so he didn't mind. They ate in silence, not much to say at the very moment. Oswald liked the peace and quiet.
All that giggling gave him a headache.
After breakfast, they left the kitchen toward the front door. The boy could feel goosebumps on his arms. He hasn't left the house since he came back from the hospital. Both giddy excitement and a bit of caution settled in a rather uncomfortable blend in his stomach. He wanted to leave, but he felt almost scared to.
Why? The thing can't appear during the day. I'm fine. Everything is fine. Fine and dandy. Like it should be.
How I want it to be.

Sitting in the back, he relaxed a bit as Stephen pulled out of the driveway. He always liked drives, not sure why but, he did. It felt nice.
“So, lemme set some ground rules. No lifting anything too heavy, just keep the loads in your hands small and such. Keep close, and don't use your arm too much.” Oswald chuckles at his father's worryful nature. Surely his arm wasn't as fragile as the man was putting it.
“Ok ok, don't worry too much, dad. I'll be fine.” He eased the man's worry a bit. The overbearing wasn't at its fullest at least.
“I know, but just be careful, ok?” Oswald nodded, easing his father enough to make him a bit more confident.

The drive was nice, a break from all the harsh events of the past few days. Oswald would stare outside the window, watching all the buildings pass by. Some run down, some in somewhat stable condition.
He couldn't help but wonder what they used to look like during their prime. The new paint, the fully cleaned windows, the people.
If only they bothered to fix up these buildings, they can still be used for something other than rotting.

They pulled up to the market, a local store that wasn't usually packed. The lot seemed almost empty, minus a few cars parked. Stephen stepped out of the car, opening Oswald's door.
“Just stick close, alright?” He took Oswald's hand, leading him inside. The place was practically empty, which was a bit relieving to the boy. Less people to be wary of.
“Alright..” Stephen pulled out a list from his pocket. This was the part Oswald would stop paying attention, looking around for other more interesting things. He would see some people he didn't quite recognize.
In a town as small as Hurricane, people were pretty known amongst themselves, especially children. Children were well aware of each other.
It's who they'll be growing up with.
He looked back at his father, who was busy looking for something on the shelf.

“Have you seen him?” Oswald was taken aback by a sudden touch on his shoulder. He turned around, looking at an unfamiliar kid. She seemed around his age, long dark hair that reached to her waist, her bangs shading half her face, her eyes barely visible. She wore a dark blue sweater, a black skirt, and a lighter blue shade of socks that reached her ankles, which black Mary Jane's to fit the style.
“Uh, have I seen who?”
“He within darkened dreams.” She was taller than the boy, now leaning down into his personal space. He backed up.
Who is this girl?
“Uh, I'm sorry.. I'm confused?” He was very lost, unsure what to think of this girl.
If this is how she makes first impressions, I fear the friends she has.
“Surely you have by now. The dreams, the nightmares. You walk within his home in your slumber” She tilts her head, looking at him with deep blue eyes. Her words were starting to become alarming.
“I- I don't know what you're talking about.” He looked back at his dad, finding him a bit further away.
Dad. Get back here.

“Your mind is riddled with his presence. You walk amongst people with him trailing a foot behind. You should be aware of him.” She spoke as if her words were a warning, a sign of danger he wasn't ready to face. But, now with these hints, he guessed pretty quickly on who she was talking about.
How. How did she know?
“That seemed to have clicked in your mind. You remember now, don't you? The malevolent purple hue.”
“How do you know abou-” Before he could even finish his sentence, he heard a woman call out.
“Claire? Claire! There you are- I-” The woman stopped at the end of the aisle, staring at the two kids like a deer in headlights.
“Mom. I found him.”
“You.. have.. But- this.. we are too early. Make haste-!” She took her daughter by her hand, leading her out of the aisle in a hurry.
Oswald just stood there, dumbfounded by it all.

The new people are weird.

“Oz-! What happened.” Stephen walked up, quite alarmed to see some random woman staring at his kid. He mentally slapped himself for just leaving Oz behind in a public space.
“Uh. I don't know. Some girl. Might be one of the new kids from school. She just came up to me saying some weird things.” He shrugged, feeling a bit unnerved.
Great. Even outside I just can't catch a break. And now someone KNOWS of the rabbit. Is he not a one-off event? How many people know of this guy?
“Oh. Uhm. Was that woman her mom?”
“Yeah.” The two left the aisle, deciding to go to another one for safety. Even if it was some random girl and her mom, there was something off about them.
Something Oz couldn't pinpoint.

And usually he was good with this sort of thing.

But, he couldn't help but rethink all the words she said. Malevolent purple hue? What could that even mean? Last he checked the malevolent one was yellow, not purple.
Though, maybe it had something to do with the stars? They always were purple, light purple on a dark purple background specifically. Specific characters wore that same pattern, so surely that had to be the actual answer?
But what could that possibly mean? Malevolent? Should he worry more about those characters? They only really appeared at night with zero consciousness.
Maybe something will happen.
He tried thinking of something a bit more positive. This was a break from it all.

Regardless of where the two walked, Oswald couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Looking about, he'd occasionally catch the girl watching.
Or Claire, as he assumed.
She was starting to freak him out. But, he was unsure if confronting her was a good idea.
He just kept walking, trying his best to ignore her. But it was getting harder every second.
“So uh, dad. How many things are left on the list?”
“One last thing, and we are home sailing.” It sucked to go home so early, but if it meant avoiding this Claire girl.
He might have to cut it short. They entered an aisle where, sadly, Claire and her mother were standing. Oswald just stood there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.
I can feel her staring into my soul.
He felt relieved as they left the aisle, going toward the check out.

“Oswald.” He yelped, turning around to see the girl again. Oh for the love of-.
“I must speak with you.” She spoke in a mumbled tone, seemingly avoiding grabbing attention. He looked up at his dad, who was talking to the cashier.
My way out is gone.
“Uh, ok. Firstly, I didn't tell you my name. Secondly, you're freaking me out.” He wasn't very good with confrontation. The one time he actually stood up ended up with a kid punched in the gut and a few day suspension.
That wasn't even pleasant anyway.
“I overheard.” The way she spoke was hard to pinpoint if what she said was a lie or truth. She lacked any hints in the eyes or voice. She was calm, collected.
It freaked him out.
“Okay, cool. Proves you're stalking me.”
“I will admit. Following isn't the best source of action. But, I had to, in order to give you a warning.” Oswald looked at her with suspicion. He just met her, and she already knew way too much for his comfort. It was odd.
And he didn't even know how she knew. Was she also being haunted by him? Was she an earlier victim or something? He didn't recognize her, so surely she was new in town.
We're there other Freddy's out there?
This couldn't possibly be a franchise.

“Uh. Okay. What is it?” He couldn't help himself. He was curious.
“He does not like it when you stay awake. Be wary when you fall asleep. The more you avoid him, the angrier he becomes.” She stepped back, before going back to her mother.
Okay. Cool.
He felt a bit worried, now knowing he succeeded in angering the thing. If the last two nights were him just messing around, he didn't want to know what that thing was capable of when fully angry. It had full domain in his dreams, so Scott knows how much he can do.
He can do just about anything. To his heart's content.
That is an alarming thing.

But, avoiding him angered him.
Then surely staying awake wasn't a good idea. But sleeping wasn't either.
Both options are bad.
What can he do? The options get limited each and every night.

What will I do tonight then?

Chapter Text

How intriguing, but oh so annoying. He thinks staying awake can prevent the inevitable. His fear will only constrain him, hold him back from his potential. The nerve of this kid..
All my efforts to be a good father, shoved back into my face. As if it meant nothing to him.
How utterly hurtful.
He wished for this. For a better life. Yet he doesn't appreciate what he is given, such an ungrateful child.
I believe I've done good, I did what he has done. But better. So what am I doing wrong? Why is he avoiding me? Have I been too gentle in my way of parenting? Perhaps..
Maybe a much harsh tactic could suffice. Could knock a few loose screws in that young mind.

Maybe I can salvage this kid. It would be so bothersome to go and find another.
He never did, he stuck with what he was given despite the numerous failures. If he can do it, so can I.
I won't give up on the order.
My efforts will not be in vain.
I will succeed. Failure is not acceptable.
An Afton would never succumb to challenges they believe are beyond them.

I definitely won't.

“Ugh.” I can hear him, his mind in a weak state. Staying up only weakens him, weakens us. The longer he stays awake, the further my plans are pushed back. What an annoyance.
He is quite a defiant little one.
It angers me to no end.
If only the man could provide any means to handle this kid, but most of his memories are faded by now. He used sheer psychological prowess to put his children in place.
But my efforts just push the kid further and further from my ideal image.

“Hey, dad. Can we watch some TV?” That annoys me the most. What does that man do that makes him so special? He's good for nothing. A delinquent.
He can barely handle himself.
Did the accident make him believe having a boy was a good idea? Last I checked, his handling of a boy ended in a life loss.
This situation seems no different.
Call it irony.
It comes back around, doesn't it, Stephen?

A man stood there, the rain outside filled out the background. He sat there, watching the static of the television, having no intentions on fixing it. He had other things on his mind.
Mere hours ago, he lost yet another one of his own. How does this keep happening?
He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ugh, how annoying. Was this some kind of divine punishment? Some kind of what comes around, goes around?
So what if he killed his partner's child? Served him right for suffocating him daily with all these things and questions. It was bothersome working with a man who didn't understand his vision. His desires.
Life was ever fleeting, a temporary state.
Death was the one and only thing he feared, and the factor of it being an unavoidable state was something that held him back. The one thing that would halter him.

Surely something could make him live forever. Anything, and everything, had a counter to it. Water and fire, Life and death, light and darkness. Everything.
If only Henry saw it the way he did. Instead, he was all accepting.
“Life ends for everyone, nothing is forever.”
Yeah, right.
There had to be an argument somewhere there. If nothing was forever, how come many things still stand to this day?

Surely things can have a forever state.

His vision, his grand design, his darkest desire. It fuels me. It bombarded me with many questions when I awoke in that stupid loop.
Yet, he rests in a frozen state. An in-between state of life and death, neither alive nor dead. He found his answer? Hadn't he?
It seems so. But I haven't gotten closer to my closure, to my answer. Not yet.
I have been given consciousness, no longer that predator with no desire but to kill. I have my own desires now. My own wishes.
But my state just hinders my free will to get what I want. Nobody to blame but the boy by this point. I simply wish to fulfill my own design.
To get to him. 

But, if I continue to get stalled, I may grow impatient. I wouldn't want to get messy, that risks it all to recklessness. No.
I already screwed it up once, not again. Not to a mere ten year old.
Yet, when I think more on it. How did he even beat me? He is small, barely confident, and fearful. I had full advantage. By all accounts, I should've easily been able to pick him off.
Yet, he killed me.
Nothing should've gone his way. I should've won. He just got lucky, that's all. Yes, mere luck gave him a leeway. Not mere strength, not mere will. Just dumb, stupid luck.

No matter.
I still stand, gifted another chance to set my vision into place. To bring forth his grand design.
Perhaps allow him to return. But maybe that's too much for one rabbit to dream. It wouldn't hurt to try, though.
I could potentially have it all: my family, the knowledge I crave, the vengeance I have yearned for. To put that man into the ground, to bring my boy home. Everything I have deserved. Being trapped in that hellish loop, I have earned leisure. Everything I have rightfully earned will fall into my hands.

I just need to be patient for a little longer.

Chapter Text

Waking up on a cold floor, Oswald stared up at some rather bright lights shining down on him. They were very bright, stunning him for a few moments. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, hearing some rather high pitched screams.
For once, not screams of horror or pain, but of joy and excitement. Odd.
Finally able to see, he found an odd, quite alarming, sight. Children ran around, some wearing birthday hats, cheering and having quite a fun time. Oswald looked around frantically, recognizing the floor pretty quickly.
The ground was purple, with confetti patterns all over, yellow in color. Like the one from his vision back when he was dealing with Mr.Whiskers.

This cannot be good.
He got off the ground, looking around the room with suspicion. It seemed like some weird party room, with tables with discarded plates and cups. It had an obnoxious table cover, which was white with a bunch of confetti, crumbs of what he assumed was pizza littered the top.
There were a bunch of balloons, presents stacked on one table, and some streamers. What caught his attention was a carousel.
Freddy's didn't have a carousel. Maybe this place had a bigger budget.
He walked out of the room, entering a hallway.
He couldn't help but wonder when he fell asleep, last thing he remembered was feeling weird in the car ride home. He asked dad if they could watch TV when they made it back, and then. Nothing.
Did I pass out? But I was doing perfectly fine.. Just feeling sick-ish.

He shook his head. Focus.
If I'm here, and I didn't fall asleep willingly, it must be involved in some way.
He focused on the task at hand; looking for the Yellow Rabbit. Oswald walked left, unsure where he was going. He didn't recognize this building, or the layout. But if that flooring had anything to say, he has been here once.
Though it was a vision before, he was still here. Walking down the dimly lit hallway, he tested the grey door. Locked. He saw a small plaque hung on the wall next to it.
‘Employees Only.’
That explains it.
He checked the first door to his right, a few feet away from the employee's room. A kitchen, which wasn't empty. A tall man looked over, his tired expression shifting to one of annoyance.
“Aye, kid, this is an employee only area.” He made his way toward the door, the boy rushing off before he could be caught. He skipped past the party room, entering what appeared to be a gaming area. Arcade machines, a, ugh, ballpit, and a bunch of kids. Easy to blend in with the crowd.

He hid amongst the kids, acting as casual as he could, keeping an eye on the hallway. The disgruntled employee walked into the room, scanning the room of playing children, grumbling when he couldn't see the boy. He began walking about, actively searching.
All this for accidentally walking in an employee room? This guy must've been really bored.
Oswald grumbled, sneaking around a wall of arcade machines that aligned in the middle of the room, watching the employee walk around the corner. The boy circled about, getting a clear shot for the main area without being seen. He ran in, regretting his decision upon seeing who stood on stage.
The golden bear and yellow rabbit. He felt his chest compress, feeling anxious.
What- whats happening-?
He could hear a yell, turning around to see that disgruntled employee at the end of the arcade room point at him. He rushed further into the main room, hiding under a table.
The man walked in, looking around the crowd, seeing no sign of the boy. Groaning in sheer annoyance, he searched the room, going toward the gathered crowd toward the stage. Oswald peered out from under the table, seeing the poor man look about.
Give it up man, get a life.
He grumbled, following the wall, walking under the table clothes separating the line of tables against the wall.

Eventually, the disgruntled man stormed out, cursing under his breath. Feeling safe, Oswald stepped out from under the table, seeing that he was in the clear for now. He snuck over to the door watching the man retreat back to the hallway, presumably back to the kitchen.
Well, he was persistent for a bit.
He walked back to the arcade, not trusting the main room. After all, it is there.
Nobody seemed to pay any mind to the boy, focused on the games, or their friend's games. Checking these games, they all seemed quite familiar.
The same games from Freddy's location, or well- Jeff's location. There were a few he did not recognize though. There was one that seemed to be a driving game with a purple car speeding down a lane. Oswald skipped that one.

There was another that did catch his eye, Fruity maze. It was a table shaped game, with a blonde girl walking about a maze, collecting fruit. Huh, this seems familiar. But, it required a coin.
Eh, if I'm here, I might as well do something with my time. Oswald looked around the room for a spare coin, only finding discarded plates and cups.
Slobs.
He ignored the feeling of disgust from the sheer amount of trash and stains on the floor, focused on finding a quarter. Since none seemed to be there, he checked the main area again. The room had two other sets of doors, one with yet another ‘employees only’ sign, and another at the far end. Probably the way to the entry area. Oswald didn't stick around to see if the rabbit was awake, rushing to the entry room. It was an oddly decorated room.
Someone probably important is the birthday kid.
Streamers, confetti, even more balloons; the whole restaurant was probably rented for this. He looked around the room, ignoring the nauseating black and white checkered floor that made him dizzy. A giant box sat next to the two big glass doors, which looked like a large present. Much bigger than an adult can carry.
What in the world could be that big for a kid?

It was a large black box with white ribbons wrapped around it, but didn't have a bow on top like most gifts. He approached it, curiosity compelling him forward. He knocked on it.
Metal.
Yeah no, this wasn't a gift.
He stepped back, seeing a crank on the side.
A music box?
He hesitated, unsure if he could handle a jump from whatever was in it. But, curiosity did kill for a living.
Might as well.
He grabbed the crank, moving it in a circle, hearing a familiar musical tune come from the box. He swore he's heard this from many music boxes, even in some nursery songs. He remembered the name Grandfather's clock.
Must be popular.
The lid would split open, two parts going outward toward the side. Oswald stepped back, watching an odd looking animatronic slowly rise from the box.

It had a black body, lanky in shape, with a few white stripes on its lower abdomen, and a lot more on its arms. It had a pure white face with two big, black eyes, what looked to be tear streaks running down its face. Two red circles making up its cheeks, an odd looking hat with a bell at the end, and a ruffled neck collar.
What was the most creepy was the black, wide smile that went up to its cheeks. It was a bit off putting.
Is that a jester or something?
It moved its arms up, like a strung up puppet, which only made it even more off putting. To his horror, it began to speak.

“Five sweet little birds, flying through the flowery meadow. Hopes as high as the clouds in the sky.”
“But one yellow bird lagged behind, the others unsure as to where she went. The day turned to night. They were not able to find her.”
“On the second day, one went alone to search for the yellow bird friend. The brave red bird soared off into the sky.. But did not return.”
“On the third day, the brown bird and blue bird decided to search. The search went nowhere, the two splitting off to cover more ground.”
“The blue bird returned home alone.”
“On the fourth day, the blue bird tried again, searching endlessly for his friends. But, alas, never returned home.”
“On the fifth day, a golden bird decided to fly high, seeking out her missing friends. Searching the valley high and low.. but found nothing. She called and called, but nobody answered..”
“It finally occurred. Perhaps.. somewhere has the truth. Maybe with a shiny trinket.. one may find the missing birds.”

The puppet animatronic reached into the box, pulling out a silver coin. A quarter. She grasped the end of the box with one hand, leaning over to reach the quarter to the frozen boy.
“One brave one, to save them all..” Her voice drained, sounding more distant before shutting down, frozen in place.
What.
The boy blinked in shock before hesitantly grabbing the coin. It was faint, but he could hear a whispered word from the animatronic.
“Please…”
But, he wasn't sure if he actually heard it. Or just imagined it. It was creepy, enough to make the boy back up.
What kind of tale was that?
He took the quarter, leaving the room. The story creeped him out a bit. It was oddly dark, with no happy ending. Was it some kind of fairytale? He remembered hearing lots of them had horrific origins, most being rewritten to appeal more to children. But, why, was the main question.
Why would a family diner have such a thing?

Maybe it was a happy story, with a happy ending? Maybe it was a randomized system and he just got unlucky?
Best not to even bother. It isn't real.
Then, it hit him. This isn't real.
He almost forgot he was in a dream. How could he forget? This place was clearly a dream-like creation made by The yellow rabbit to spook him, like all the other times.
It's a cycle.
He almost forgot, having gotten distracted by that stupid fairytale. But, he couldn't help but remember.
Five birds. Five dead children propped against the wall, in that room, where he met the rabbit. Wait.
No.
There were six. The nursery rhyme skipped a kid. But, why? Did it not remember the amount of kids it killed? Maybe it miscounted? Or maybe.. with the silver ‘trinket’ he will find the sixth?

Eh. Probably stretching it a bit.
But, he had to admit, everything was weird. This whole thing feels like a distraction. The books with random people's names, including his own, the note he found in the closet? It all just seemed so.. odd. It was almost like the bunny was pushing for one thing, while trying to block out another.
Something else was surely happening, but the rabbit seemed oddly deflective. All these nights, these animatronics. Surely they're distractions.
But, if this wasn't jumping to sudden theorizing, why? What was going on?
Maybe this is giving the rabbit too much credit.
Though, he knew better now than to think the rabbit was some kind of idiot. Nope, far from it.
It's odd, to put it lightly.

Oswald made his way back into the arcade, noticing all arcades were now occupied. All except fruity maze. Convenient.
He walked over, putting in the quarter to play. It seemed as simple as the game it was clearly based on, minus all the enemies. He controlled the character, collecting all the fruits, embarrassingly jumping at the sudden alert it played. 'Time extended!'
Loud.
He continued playing a bit, finding the game rather fun. Better than some of the games back at Jeff's.
Soon enough, he beat it. But, instead of getting a Congratulations or Game over screen, he was met with text.

“Perhaps another go.”

This was a bit weird, but maybe he missed something. He wasn't one to miss out on a fully completed game.
What's another round gonna do?
Though, he knew he would have to find another quarter. Yay.
He searched the room again, hoping to find a quarter this time. Disappointed when he came back with absolutely nothing. Worst of all, the floor looked worse than it did moments ago.
He left to the main room, giving this room a shot, avoiding any and all eye contact with the rabbit.
Though, no matter where he looked, nothing.
Great. That puppet thing is my last chance.
He made his way to the entry way, finding the box closed. Cranking it yet again, he stepped away when the puppet emerged from the inside. He stared at her as she moved all puppet-like.

“To seek the secret door, once must go out of bounds. Seek the birds, as though the game doesn't predict.”

“Uh, ok. You got any more quarters?” Oswald didn't know if the robot could even hear, or understand for that matter, but he talked to her anyway. Maybe, in a dream, they could. Maybe it's possible here.
He hoped. Things were already hard for him as is, he didn't want anymore challenges.

“I do not. But a rat does.”

“I'm sorry.. a rat? A rat in this building has a quarter?” Great. More rats.

“The rat king resides in his home in the wall.” She went back into the box, providing no more context or help.
Great, yeah. Awesome.

Oswald groaned, walking out of the entry way, through the main room. Where would a rat even be? He checked the main room not too long ago, as well as the arcade. There must be a room with a hole in the wall somewhere.
He walked down the hallway, not daring to test the kitchen yet. He entered the party room searching the walls.
And, in the wall at the far end, was a hole.
Gotcha.
He crouched down, peering through the hole. Nothing but pitch darkness. The hole seemed rather big for a rat, big enough where he could reach in.
Would that even be smart to do?
With dream logic protecting him, he reached in, finding the inside much more spacious than he thought.
This rat really made a home for himself here.
Suddenly, a sharp pain hit him, making him pull his hand out quickly. Checking said hand, he found an unmistakable bite mark. The rat bit him.

“Who dares disrupt his royal sleep!?” An animatronic looking rat walked out from the hole, confronting Oswald on sight.
He was definitely a rat, adorned with a crown, a scepter, and cape, a ruby crest holding it.
“You! Giant humanoid! How dare you!” He waved a cane around angrily, striking the boy's knee. It hurt a little, given it was definitely made of metal.
“Uh.. I was looking for a quarter. The puppet thing said you'd have it.” The boy internally groaned. I don't have time for this.
“Puppet thing? You mean the Marionette? Yes yes, I've heard of her. A snitch she seems to be.”
What's with the rabbit and these weird characters?
“Uh, cool. Yeah. Can I have the quarter? I need it for the Fruity Maze game”

“My, how rude you are! You know very well that patience is a virtue!” The boy internally groaned.
Great, being lectured by the villain from the Nutcracker. Why is this rat even here?
“Sorry, I just wanna get this whole thing over with. I wanna wake up.”
“Wake up? Why? This place is a grand, beautiful place! Why, anyone would die to be able to see this wonderful wonderland! You should appreciate it!” The boy's eyes squinted with suspicion.
Huh. Really? A wonderland? He noted a few keywords that stood out. Based on how he phrased it all, it seems the rat is in cahoots with the rabbit.
Only the rabbit would want me to stay.
“Huh, what.. an interesting thing to say. But, I'd much rather leave. I have a home, thank you.” He didn't trust the rat at all. But, he needed that quarter.

“Why go home when this could be your home? I made myself quite a room here, it's perfect. No worries, no responsibilities, no fears. It's like a constant vacation!” The sheer desperation the rat seemed to display was quite alarming. He seemed to be clouded by sheer bias
“Uhm. Okay. Well, can I still have the quarter? I wanna play Fruity Maze.”
“Why not play with the other kids? I'm sure they'd love your company.” This rat was starting to be grating on the boy's nerves.
“Eh, they are busy with their own things. I'm more of a lone player. So. Again. Can I have the quarter?” He held his hand out, hoping the clear indication he wasn't going to be negotiable would get the rat to cave.
“Hm, well. I am not one to share my valuables without an exchange. I'm quite hungry. Be a good servant and fetch me a piece of pizza! Maybe then I'll reward you.” The rat scurried back into his home.

I hate this guy.

Oswald groaned, standing up. Fine. He stormed over to the tables, looking through the boxes of pizza. Empty.
All of the pizza was gone.
He checked the arcade room, seeing all the pizzas were being eaten by the kids.
Great. The only place to get pizza is the kitchen.
He thought for a moment, trying to think of a way to get the chef to leave the room. He seemed oddly pissed when he opened the door, and who knows where the guy would take him if he were to get caught. This had to go smoothly.
He looked around, trying to think of a solution. Then, he thought of a possible way to lure him. He grabbed a crust of pizza off the floor, going to the hallway. He creaked open the door, seeing the man working on a pizza, a freshly cooked one on the table. He aimed, throwing the crust right at the man.
It hit him in the back, making a thud when it fell to the floor.
“The hell!?” He turned, seeing the door shut behind someone. Oswald rushed to the party room, hiding under a table. He heard the man angrily storm down the hallway, checking the party room before going to the arcade. Taking his chance, Oswald rushed to the kitchen, going in and grabbing a, rather hot, piece of pizza. It burnt, needing a plate just to carry it.
He stepped out of the room, going back to the party room.

He knocked on the wall, seeing the rat poke his head through. The boy placed the plate next to the hole.
“Ahhh, dinner! You did well, my faithful servant. But.. I cannot have dinner without a drink! Where is my drink!” The rat demanded.
“Are you serious? You asked for pizza and nothing else! How was I supposed to know?” Oswald wasn't sure the lure trick would work a second time.
“Well, one gets soda if he orders pizza. It's simple knowledge, kid. Now.. fetch me a soda!” The rat grabbed the pizza, going inside his hole to wait. If the boy had no common sense, he would've crushed the thing.
But he needs that quarter.
So instead, he huffed, walking out of the room. Soda, soda, where could he even manage to get soda?
He checked the arcade, seeing a lone cup on top of a machine. Not a very smart move.
It seemed to belong to the kid cheering on his friend, who was playing what looked to be Pizza Delivery.
Which was in much better shape.
He snuck over, moving behind the crowd. They weren't paying attention, unaware of the boy who snatched the soda, moving away before he could be noticed.
Sorry, kid.

Another knock alerted the rat his drink had arrived. He left the hole, seeing the boy place the cup next to his doorway.
“Ah! Perfect! Thank you, my servant!” He went back inside, grabbing the quarter and handing it to the boy, who eagerly snatched it.
“But, consider my words, boy. It's best to just enjoy the home rather than fight against it. It will help you later. Now, scram! I got a nice dinner to enjoy!” He grabbed the soda, going back into his home.. shutting a weird door.
Yeah, right.
Oswald ditched the room, ignoring the words of the clear associate of the rabbit, going right back to Fruity Maze.
He played exactly the same way as before, but left one single fruit before exploring the bounds. He looked all over, but didn't see anything that seemed oddly placed.
How do I get out of bounds?
He tried pressing up against the outer walls, unsure what to even do. Maybe something needed to bug out before he could find it?
But, before he could figure it out.
Time's up!
He lost. A game over screen popped up before an insert one coin popped up.
One more try, then maybe, I'll figure it out.

He left the arcade, going back to the entry room. Cranking the crank for, hopefully, the last time, he stepped back.
Waiting for, who he was told, the Marionette to pop up. She soon popped out from her box, albeit rather slowly. She peered at the boy.

“One failure shall not deter, one more try is bound to be your last needed go.”

“Okay, but, where do I find the quarter?”

“You will find it. Think like a bird, and it shall come to you much easier than the last.” With that, a far worse hint than the last one, she went back into her box.
This only left the boy even more confused.
What's that even mean?
He stood there, thinking of the words over and over. Think like a bird?
What?
Is she hinting at her weird fairy tale from earlier? He recounted the weird words in his head, thinking of what they did.
They simply flew around, looking. So, is he supposed to just walk around and hope for the best,
That's stupid.

He sighed, starting his search in the entry way. He snuck behind the main desk, finding a piece of paper rather than a quarter. Curiously, he unfolded the paper.
A note. Similar to the one he found in the closet on the second night. Weird.
Why is it here?
He stuffed it into his pocket, opting to read it later. Looking through anything else he could manage to open, no quarter seemed to be there.
Odd, not even the register had any.
He hopped over the counter, leaving the room for the main area. He already checked the arcade and main room a few times, so surely the quarter couldn't be there. But the possibility it spawned made him check anyway.

Nothing. But a waste of time.

He walked toward the hallway, noticing something odd about it. The back door was cracked open. It was locked earlier, so maybe someone went in and left the door open. Oswald decided that maybe, just maybe, that's where he's supposed to go. It was sketchy, risky even, but it really came down to desperation.
He walked over, careful going past the kitchen, making it over to the open door. He pushed it open, greeted by a parts and service room. There were suits that matched the animatronics on stage, missing the heads which were propped on the table. Oswald looked around, careful near the suits.
But, there was nothing here, just a bunch of junk he couldn't use. He sighed, calling it quits, walking out of the room.
The sight before him made him freeze in place.

At the end of the hallway, the yellow rabbit stood. He was stiff, almost human like. He blinked, seeing the boy clearly.
“Hey, buddy.. you're not supposed to be back here.” He spoke in an odd way, the voice sounding more goofy than the normal voice the rabbit had. He sounded almost country, but with a hint of another accent seeping through.
British?
“Uh, I uh.. got.. lost.” This animatronic seemed off, almost as off putting as the Marionette. He wore that stupid star pattern on his vest, which only meant he was definitely bad.
“Oh. You must be scared.. Here, take my hand, I'll take you to your parents.” The thing reached a hand out, offering it. The offer was almost insulting.

“Uh, no need. I'm fine.” He immediately shot it down, trying to look for a way around the rabbit. The thing was too big to easily slip by.
He had to play his cards right if he wanted to get out of this.
“Uh, can.. you take me to the arcade? I wanna play a game..” He conjured the most innocent voice he could muster, one he’d only use on adults in public.
“Why, sure! Come with me..” The rabbit stepped to the side, his hand motioning for the boy to come. This was risky, but he was practically cornered. He made his way over slowly, still skeptical of the rabbit. The robot led him through the hallway, taking him to the arcade.
“Uhm.. Do you have a quarter? I ran out.” He tried his luck, hoping he'd be given something. To his surprise, he was.
“Why, of course. Have fun!” He was given a quarter.
It had it the whole time? Did the Marionette think I'd be that dumb to just go up and ask it?

“Thanks..” The boy watched as the rabbit walked to the main room, thankfully out of sight.
One last game, and I'm home free.
He slipped the coin into the slot, playing the game for one last time. He did the same thing as the first, just collecting all the fruit. He was keeping a close eye on all the walls, not paying too much attention to the fruits. When he collected the last one, he got a bit nervous.
But, the game completion screen didn't show up this time. Nothing did. The timer was paused, the music was silent, and the game was still playing.
Odd. Did I do it right?
He continued exploring, checking all the walls. When he got to the furthest wall to the right, he spotted it. A small section of the wall was glitched out, looking very noticeable.
He took his shot, clipping through the wall.

When he opened his eyes, Oswald found himself in an odd area. He was no longer in the arcade, but instead what seemed to be a rundown version of the main hallway. Looking in front of him, he saw that the hallway only led to pitch darkness, with no doors in sight.
The wall was made of solid concrete, seemingly worn down from years of existence. It looked like the old abandoned buildings nobody touched back at Hurricane.
Off putting, sickly, and in desperate need or repair.
The boy looked behind him, finding a solid wall. Seemed like the only way to go was forward.

Oswald began walking, looking around for any sign of an exit. Was this what he was supposed to be doing? Is this what the Marionette wanted him to do?
This definitely had to be.
Where else did he have to go?
He continued on, feeling like the hallway was going on forever. It seemed endless.
It just kept going the more he walked forward.
Was it a loop? Is this a punishment of some kind?
He sure hopes not.

What felt like hours of sheer walking, he found the end. A solid metal door, at the far end of the hall. It was slightly open.
That had to be it.
The boy propelled forward, rushing over to the door. He grabbed the handle.
But paused.
Something felt off. Like the feeling something was watching him. He turned around, seeing the dark hallway loom in front of him.
This was the only way to go, there was nothing out there for him.
He opened the door.

The scent of rotting hit him like a truck, causing him to stumble backward, a wave of nausea hitting him. He felt himself gag, unsure if he could even handle it.
Or handle what he would see.
Regardless. He pressed forward, opening his eyes. The sight was rather.. dark.
It was a suit, a rabbit suit, torn up from years of rotting. It smelt horrible.
It had a greenish tint to it, a sickly green of worn down metal and mold. It had tears and rips, which revealed bone and flesh. 
Someone died in it. The blood long since dried and blackened, showing the corpse has been here for a very long time.
The sight made the boy sick.
What. What was this?

He hesitated, approaching the thing cautiously, taking his striped shirt and covering his nose.
“He-hello?” He hated when his voice stuttered, but at this point he couldn't help it. This was now the second time he has seen a corpse. Or at least, the seventh corpse he's seen in his lifetime.
That should be enough for any normal person.
He wasn't even sure what to think the first time, he was even more lost this round.
Why did the Marionette tell him to look for this? Did she do this?
“Hello.” The voice caused the boy to quickly stumble back, tripping over himself. He fell onto his back, causing him to wince.
His moment of stun didn't last long, as his senses spiked after the alert.

He kicked his legs, moving back.
“Forget how to walk, little one?” The corpse began to move, standing up. He was tall, around the same height as the rabbit. In fact, he looked eerily similar.
This definitely wasn't Bonnie, he was missing the signature bowtie, and a much different structure. It was taller, a bit thinner. This had more of a suit type texture, but still made with metal bits.
This wasn't a Bonnie, this was a Rabbit.
The rabbit.
The voice was also a dead give away. Raspy, distorted, and quite deep.. with a heavy hint of a British accent to top.
“Afraid, are we?” The thing made a creaking sound when it moved, with an odd sound that was similar to tearing of flesh. The sound was horrible.
“I- I..” He was at a loss. He wasn't sure what to say. The smell, the fear. It was real.

It felt so real.

Chapter Text

The feeling of coldness was like pins and needles on his very skin. His jacket did nothing to protect from this feeling. It was fear, utter fear. He didn't know why he was so scared of this rabbit in particular, but whatever it was, he didn't like it.
He felt words catch in his throat, a lump nearly restricting his breathing. The scent of death, the dim lighting, this weird corpse walking toward him. The situation screamed at him.

It would be best if you run.

“You seem troubled, old sport.” The rabbit kneeled toward him, but not in a form of comfort. A mockery, a form of intimidation.
“My, you seem quite familiar.” It tilted its head, its eyes laser focused on the kid's face. It took a moment of thought.
“You. Y o u. I know you.” The earlier tone of mockery replaced by a deep, threatening tone. Recognition.
“Oh, I remember you well.” The demeanor shift felt like whiplash for Oswald, making him press back against the wall. He tried thinking of a way out of this.
“All it took was one small prank.. One Itty bitty prank.” Whatever this guy was talking about, it really angered him. If only Oswald knew what he was on about, then maybe he would know what to say.
But here he was, confused and scared.

“After all these years, you have the nerve to show your face? You should've stayed gone while you could.” He stared at the boy with pure hatred. Whoever the guy was talking about, Oswald couldn't begin to imagine what the kid did to anger him this much.
“Now enlighten me, boy. What could a miniscule little thing like you want from this place now? The first time wasn't enough?” Oswald blinked. He had to say something.                                                 

What on Earth could I even say?

“I.. uhm. I don't know what you're talking about.” He couldn't straighten up his voice, the shaky tone was all he could muster. His confidence was dwindling fast.
He was cornered with an angry rabbit he didn't quite recognize, but recognized all at once.
“You don't remember? Or are you playing dumb? You kids weren't bright, but not this stupid.” The boy's comment seemed to only piss the rabbit off more, striking a nerve Oswald wasn't aiming for.
“I genuinely don't know. I.. I don't even know who or.. what you're talking about.” Oswald tried again, trying to reason with the thing before he could get angier.
Oswald wasn't in the position to fight.
“I never took you for someone stupid, Stephen. Playing games with me never worked, why do you expect it to now?” The rabbit was getting increasingly hostile, the boy moving further back.
“I genuinely don't know! I don't know.. who you even are!” Oswald yelled back, unsure what to say at this point. Things were escalating.
But, he took a moment to step back and analyze the rabbit's words. Stephen.
Stephen? That wasn't his name, not even close. But, the name did ring a bell. A worryingly, alarming bell.
The thing was talking about his dad.

But, despite his desire for answers, he kept this revelation to himself. Who knew that this thing would do if it knew.
The hostility could likely grow bigger, far out of Oswald's control.
“Do you take me for some kind of fool?” The rabbit grew closer, getting a closer look at the boy in front of him. His eyes darted at every detail, but something seemed to make him back off.
“Wait.” It tilts its head, giving it more thought. This was a bit alarming. He couldn't begin to imagine what the thing could be thinking, he couldn't even tell what it felt. The facial expression was practically stagnant, apart from his eyes. They were slated, a sign of focus.

“You aren't Stephen.” It seemed to come to the conclusion, standing back up at its normal height. An alarming height.
“You are younger, smaller, and your eyes are a paler blue. Who are you?” He grabbed the boy, lifting him by the back of his hood.
“I-.. I'm not telling you anything.” The boy attempted to kick at the thing, trying to release himself. He didn't like this, not one bit. The thing smelt of death, being closer to it made the kid dizzy.
“I don't think you got much of a choice. You barge into my room, mess with my game, and you can't even bother to tell me a name for yourself?” The rabbit glared at the boy, shaking him as a threat.
“Ok-! Jeez- quit that.” The boy had to steady himself, feeling a sense of nausea. The rabbit seemed on a somewhat equal strength as the rabbit he knew. He was just as aggressive as well, which Oswald knew he had to be careful with.
“I'm Oswald.” He rubbed his head.
“Last name?” Oswald felt himself grow a bit tense. He feared giving his last name would give the rabbit the knowledge of his relation to a man he seemed to hate.
He could always just steal another person's last name.

“Uh. Addison.” He made up one on the spot, unsure if it even existed. Didn't matter, all last names were made up at some point.
“Addison?” The rabbit seemed.. skeptical. Why? He gave him a last name, how would he even know he was lying?
“Hm. Odd. You seemed unsure of yourself.” Oswald cursed. He never sounded sure, a common slip up that revealed each lie he's ever told. He couldn't help his voice, not when someone was threatening him.
“W-well.. I wasn't lying. I gave you my name. Please just put me down.” He hated begging, but what option did he have at this point. His life was at stake, his lie was already wavering.
“Hm. Alright then.” The thing sat the boy back on the ground.
“You look like someone I know, so I assumed you were related. Guess I'm wrong.” It seemed to have fallen for it, but something just didn't sit right with Oswald. His tone. It seemed condescending, as if it was acting.
Best to leave.

“Well. It was uh- nice meeting you.. uh.”
“You will refer to me as Mr.Afton.” That name rang a bell. He remembered seeing that name. He tapped his finger on his leg, trying to remember.
The bookshelf. Back at the weird dream house. There were at least four names with Afton. The first names were a bit hazy, but he remembered that last name. He thought it was weird.
“Oh, just Mr.Afton? No first name..?” Maybe with a first name, he can get a little more intel on the thing. Just a little.
“Hm, oddly interested, aren't we?” This rabbit was easily skeptical.
It was a bit annoying, making Oswald feel the need to think of every word he says.
“I uh. I was just curious.” He feigned innocence, looking to the side.
“Hm. Well. It's William. I'm quite well known. Surprised you don't seem to recognize me. Pretty ignorant, aren't you?” Oswald's eyes twitched at the insult, but he didn't dare call him out, deciding to fake a smile instead.
“William Afton? I uh- I've never heard that name before-” He felt his entire body recoil as the rabbit slammed his fist against a wall.

What did I do now!?

"How DARE you! I'm the most prolific killer this country has ever seen! I'm the man your parents have feared since birth! The man the town dreaded the return of! My name has lived in infamy for years! On the top of headlines! How do you not know of me!?” He yelled, causing the boy to cover his ears at the sheer volume. He grabbed the boy by the collar, shaking him back and forth violently.
“Have they forgotten!? Have they even heard of me!? This blasphemous ignorance!” He tossed the kid to the ground, not even yelling at him anymore, simply ranting to himself.
“Such an insult! I've killed many! I've struck fear into the hearts of the parents of Hurricane! And they dare forget my name!?” Oswald backed up, just watching in sheer fear. He's never seen an adult so angry before. Maybe in movies, but not in front of him. He felt his chest compress, making his breathing feel harsh.
Cold.

“Does nobody appreciate art anymore!? Does nobody even bother to look at the outer picture? No wonder their kids have failed to survive! There is no intelligence in any of them! They are as dense as Osmium, useless as waste!” The creature kicked the wall, causing the boy to flinch back. He didn't dare speak, not sure if he could.
It was hard to breathe.

“Ohho.. they aren't ready for a thing, are they? They might as well leave their children on a silver platter, lay in the grass in wait. They should all come to me like cattle. It would be a blessing to be killed by my hands. Their deaths are inevitable anyway.” He was glaring daggers at something, Oswald deeply hoping that it wasn't at him.
“They have forgotten, lived in pure bliss for far too long. All of them. Ohhh.. when i return.. The hell I will bring. They will live with deep embedded regret of ever forgetting my name.” He turned to look at the trembling child, his eyes staring daggers into his very soul.

“You. You will be the first in a long time. The first since my retirement. I have waited for far too long.” He stood straight, a threat of its own.
“Your life will be an awakening in those fools. A sign to never forget my name again.” When he began to walk toward him, the boy felt a jolt go right through him.
Alright. Time to go.
He got up, stumbling out of the room as fast as he could be. He knew he should've ran.
Scott, why didn't I run when he was monologing!?
“Oswald. Get back here.” His monotone command was somehow more threatening than his yelling. Maybe because it was now directed back at him rather than the air.
Oswald just kept running down the hallway.
“Kid. Come back, children are supposed to obey their elders.” He could hear metal stomping behind him. The thing was definitely chasing him.
Wait. Where am I even going!?

There was no other door in this endless hall. Nothing. How could he go back into bounds!? He didn't know! The puppet didn't warn him about this!
Was he the sixth child this whole time? Was this all planned out? Was he the one that was meant to die? So many unanswered questions he might not ever get!
He hasn't died to anything other than the Yellow Rabbit. Would it be different? Probably not. It's all a dream after all.
But this dream felt so real. Could he really take that risk just to see if he wakes up this time?
This was all so confusing..
“You are running nowhere, kid. There is nothing for you down there!” The boy felt a harsh yank, reeling him backward. The yank stunned him for a moment, choking him a bit.
“Gotcha.” The kid acted as quickly as he could, slipping his arms through his sleeves, ditching his hood. He ran.

“Wha- you-! Ugh! You brat!” The thing resumes running, trying to snatch the kid. But, the boy had a moment's head start.
Oswald pushed with all the momentum he could.
He could see the end of the hallway. There was nowhere to go but straight into the wall.
Wait. The wall.
All the glitches he's ever encountered have been achieved by clipping through a wall. Maybe that could be his way out? If he failed, maybe he'd get knocked out and spared any pain of his death.
It's the only choice he's got.

Might as well take his chance.

He ran right into the wall. It felt like he was running through tough jello, holding him back slightly. But, he persisted, pushing forward despite the toughness.
He soon slipped through, falling to the floor.
That somehow worked.

Oswald hurried to his feet, looking around frantically. He recognized this room in almost an instant.
He was back at Freddy's.
He quickly hid under a table, knowing that rabbit, or William, was not too far behind.
Speaking of the devil himself, the rabbit pushed off the wall, having gone through much easier than Oz.
“Guess you are a bit smarter than the others. A breath of fresh air.” The creature looked around the main room, scanning for his victim.
The boy didn't seem to be in the open. So, the rabbit began checking under the tables.. going to each one.

“But, we both know better, don't we Ozzy? You know this will go nowhere for you. You are stuck here, just as much as I. I'll eventually find you. I always will.” Upon pulling up one of the table cloths, it was met with a shoe slamming right into its face, a flash of white stunning it. He stumbled back, planting onto the ground, hearing the wretched child bolt off.
“You insolent little-! You'll pay for that!” Oswald ran up into the party hall, going toward the arcade. That wasn't his best move, but a move he had to make.
He was left with no other choice.
He had nothing to defend himself with: no flashlight, no screwdriver, nothing. He didn't even have anything anymore.
Everything was in his pocket.
He ran into the arcade, zooming past the machines. He froze, looking back at the screens. He could've sworn he saw a rabbit on the screen.
Must've been his imagination.
Didn't matter- doesn't matter!
He continued running, going to the entrance. He nearly slipped with the speed he had to stop himself with.

The rabbit was standing at the front door, waiting for him, his jacket in a tight grip.
“You play me for some fool. You think I wouldn't guess where you were going? Get real kid, I know every exit this place has to offer. There isn't a place you can go where I wouldn't find you.” It began advancing, Oswald having no choice but to retrace his steps. He turned around, going the way he came.
Oswald didn't know who was worse; The Ballpit Rabbit or this guy. Either way, they're both pretty bad.
But this guy was a bit more threatening.
Oswald ran as fast as he could, unsure how long he could keep this up for. He pushed regardless of the fruitlessness of it all.
He wouldn't go down easy.
He slammed the door of the arcade, entering the storage room, immediately hiding in the Freddy suit. He heard William burst into the room right after, watching it go down into the party hallway.

So much for knowing exactly where I'm going.

Oswald waited a few moments before hearing a door open and close loudly. The rabbit entered the kitchen, now was his chance.
He slowly crawled out of the bear suit, sneaking back into the arcade. The kid gave it a bit before he began speed walking, going toward the entrance. He saw his jacket ditched on the floor. Picking it up, he dusted it off before slipping it back on. His jacket felt like a much needed comfort in a nightmare world, a shield.
Now that he had the chance to, he attempted to open the front, but to no avail. Oswald began pulling aggressively, trying to pry it open. But it wouldn't budge.
“Open, dang it-!” Oswald pleaded with the door, as if it could even listen. No matter how hard he pulled the door, it just wouldn't open. He kicked the door before giving up, trying to think of where to go. It didn't take too long to figure out where to go.

The ballpit.

He went up toward the arcade, not trusting the dining area. It was too open for his liking.
He traveled through the arcade listening closely for that decrepited rabbit. He could hear him in the distance, likely in the dining area.
Avoiding that area was a good choice, but how will I get into the ball pit?
He began to go through room to room, ending up in the party hallway, right in front of the door to the dining room. He pressed his ear against the door, listening in.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.. You cannot hide forever..” The rabbit was pacing, going back and forth rather than going around the building. Oswald guessed the rabbit knew where he'd go.
He'd have to sneak through.
He listened closely, hearing the rabbit walk past the door, toward the stage before turning around. When the rabbit passed by, Oswald waited for a moment before sneaking to the ball pit room. Surprisingly, he snuck past well enough without getting caught.
He opened the door, going into the room before closing the door quietly. Standing there, a cruel reminder for all that's happened, was the ball pit. The place it all initially started.
Oswald couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach, trying not to stare too hard.

This was the way out.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Oswald climbed the small ladder before jumping in. He fell through the plastic balls, colorful circles filling his vision.
But, instead of eventually surfacing, he just kept falling. And falling. And falling..
He fell through what appeared to be the end of the balls, now simply falling into a dark, seemingly endless void. It was cold, harsh.

“You should've just stayed at Fredbear's. Now look at you. Falling into the endless sea of nothing. This could've been avoided if you simply stuck to the script. You deserve this.” That voice. He recognized that void pretty well.
He landed harshly on the ground, a room phasing into existence around him. It hurt, it hurt a lot. He couldn't help but let out a cry of pain.
“You have no reason to cry. Get up.” The voice was much more harsh than it has been for quite awhile. It had no remorse, no sympathy. Just pure anger.

“He does not like it when you stay awake. Be wary when you fall asleep. The more you avoid him, the angrier he becomes.”

He only stayed up once, and the Rabbit is this mad? He wouldn't want to imagine how bad it could get. He got up, a bit slower than he would like. He felt like he got hit by a truck.
“Look, I didn't think you'd care.. if I took a break from your stupid games. It was one night anyway.” He rubbed his arm, looking up at where he believed the rabbit could be. It was omnipresent, impossible to even look it in the eye.
“You don't seem to get the situation. Let me enlighten you.” The boy felt the room shift, one side raising. Oswald tried keeping himself standing, but eventually he couldn't. He fell back, sliding toward one side. The room roughly switched its position, Oswald's slide cut sort, making him roll. Dizzy. Dizzy-!
The room began shaking, moving violently, like a kid shaking a present on Christmas day.
“You've forgotten your place. You have the nerve to disobey me, thinking it's a right you have. You're a foolish, insolent brat!”
The shaking got worse, enough for the kid to strike the ceiling, slamming down to the floor.
“This is my world. Your mind is no longer yours! You've practically given it to me! You have no right to take it back!”
The boy tried cushioning his falls, to find a way to ease the blows he was receiving. But nothing he did could stop the barrage of yelling or shaking.

The room would shift onto its side, sending Oz falling down yet another dark hole. Instead of a floor, he fell through another ball pit. He thrashed, resurfacing.
“You wanted excitement. You wanted change. You begged and pleaded for something new. But when you're given what you want, you complain and whine.” Oswald swam through the pit, trying to find a way out. Every inch of ground he pushed through, the edges just expanded. It grew wider, not allowing an ounce of mercy to the child.
“I've offered leisure, I've offered freedom from your pitiful mundane life. You just pushed me away.” The plastic balls started feeling heavier, making his movements slower, making it harder to move. The plastic felt harsher to the touch, like sharp rocks.
“How insulting, never once considered how I'd feel. Hurts, doesn't it?” The harder he pushed through, the harder it became, the energy he was using was depleting rapidly. He felt exhausted, his legs were burning. He noticed as he was moving, the plastic balls started growing in size. It became impossible to push through, they felt like boulders. He started to feel claustrophobic, unable to move. He pushed, trying to climb out.
He was unable to free himself.

“I've offered a much easier route, but you refused. What happens from here could've been avoided if you just behaved.” The ground beneath him had vanished, Oswald falling through the endless sea of colors. Again.
He landed in another pit, but it felt shallow and small. He immediately crawled out, his breathing rapid. He turned to see a jungle gym play area, surrounded by a foot deep ball pit, with two colorful bridges that lead into the gym.
It reminded him of the ones he'd see in restaurants before they closed. He stood up, backing up. The boy gripped his arms, hyperventilating.
Dammit. Calm down.
He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. He took a few moments, but eventually evened his breathing. He assessed the room, seeing he was in some sort of play area. The jungle gym was on one side, while small tables and chairs were on the other. Surely some kid area, a small kid area.
He left the room, finding himself in a dining hall. There were a bunch of tables with party hats and empty paper plates. Only the far end of the room was a stage.

A bear, a bunny, and a chicken.
Except, they looked a bit different.
The bear had much brighter brown fur, or technically a metal. He had a microphone, a red vest, a top hat, white gloves, and a black bowtie. He had bright red cheeks that were round on his face. His eyes were closed. He stood in the middle on a platform that only raised him slightly.
The bunny was a bright blue, much different from the dark blue of the original. He wore a vest with red glitter with white sleeves and a sharp collar, which stuck out. He also had red cheeks, much like Freddy. His eyes were also closed, the red electric guitar he had held tight in his four fingered hands.
The chicken was a bright yellow, had a bright orange beak, paired with the pink cheeks instead of red. She had curly feathers on the top of her head, a pink scrunchie holding them up. She had sharp eyelashes, with pink eyeliner. Why is a robot wearing make-up? She held a cupcake in one hand, the other rested by her side. She had a white bib decorated with confetti with the words ‘let's party!’ She had pink leg warmers, wrist warms, and a pink bikini bottom with two translucent pink tulle pieces that flowed from her sides. Like a tutu with the front and back piece cut off. She had three yellow feathers on the back
Odd design choice.

Oswald hesitated approaching them, not trusting them one bit. They could be violent. He walked around, looking for anything else he could note. There was an open area that led to an arcade. He decided to check it out.
He walked in, seeing various games. But not just arcade games, but also ticket grabber games. There was a ski ball, claw machines, arcade games made to gain points for tickets, basketball, and a large tube that caught his attention. It was one of those machines where a kid walks in and a bunch of tickets are blown around.
Oswald never experienced one before, and was unsure if he ever wanted to. He didn't like enclosed areas with locked doors. He probably would try, but would feel immensely uncomfortable.
He walked over to the prize counter, looking at the various Freddy merch along the walls and inside the counter. Plushies, toys, candy.. the usual prizes a prize counter would have.
Nothing of importance.
He left the arcade, looking around the dining hall, deciding to check out the entrance. The room would turn right instead of going straight. There was nothing much to note, except the bundle of balloons, both beside the two glass doors. Why are there so many balloons?

He went back to the dining area, jumping back from sudden fear. There was another animatronic he didn't notice, which from his earlier perspective was hidden behind the carousel. Instead of an animal, it was a human boy with red cheeks, brown hair, a weird triangular nose, and a creepy smile.
His shirt had stripes that went downward, being two different shades of blue. He had blue shorts held up with suspenders, white socks, and brown shoes. He had a yellow and red striped balloon and a propeller hat.
He looked weird, off putting.
Ugly.
Oswald walked off, ignoring how he was around the same height as the thing. But, he noticed something odd when going further into the room.

The bunny is gone.

Oswald began frantically looking around the room, but didn't see any sign of the creature.
Crap crap. Why did I leave the room!?
He began running about, not wanting to be caught walking. He found a hallway, to which he ran though.
There was a kitchen and a door to the ‘employee only hall’. He tried both doors, finding them locked. So instead, he turned down another hallway.
There were two large doors, each leading to two separate party rooms, at the end was a door that led to what looked like an office.
Oswald entered the office, noting two vents on either side of the room. On the desk was some trash, paper, a fan, and a tablet.
He took the tablet, seeing it turn on to reveal a camera system.
Perfect, I got a way to see where those freaks are.
He looked at the map of the restaurant, seeing it was much bigger than the restaurant he was used to.
An entrance, dining area, the stage and backstage, the arcade, prize counter, the hallway to the kitchen and employee hall, the second hallway with the two party rooms and office, a bathroom, the kid area, and another area behind the jungle gym that lead to a room with what appeared to have a mangled fox animatronic.
Weird.
The employee hall had a storage room, parts and services, and an unnamed third room that didn't have an accessible camera.
Probably the employee bathroom or something.

He checked all the cameras, looking around for the bunny. Eventually, he found him, staring up at the camera. He was in party room #2, getting ready to enter the ventilation system.
How did he get there without me seeing him?
He didn't expect the toys to be quick, but they apparently were. Within the span of about a minute or two within the entrance, the bunny left the stage, went across the dining hall, down an entire hallway, and entered the room.
Or maybe he wasn't fast, but was instead a silent walker? Having snuck past the boy without him even knowing?
The thought was terrifying.
He could be ambushed without even hearing it.

But, maybe, he could just find the exit that takes him out of here. But where could that even be?
There were a few options: the front doors, which was unlikely, the room behind the jungle gym, probably, or somewhere in the employee hall. Probably the mystery room.
Or he could try the ball pit again, maybe. But since it was so shallow, it was unlikely.
Ugh.
He decided to just go to the employee hall, as it was the closest. He ran past the two party rooms, ditching the unsafe office, entering hallway one. He went down to the very end, testing the door, finding it locked.
Should've known.
He kicked the door, going toward the dining area.

There has to be an exit.

Chapter Text

Checking the map on the tablet, Oswald made his way toward the office. Maybe, somewhere in that cluttered mess, was a key. He peaked over the corner into the party room, seeing no sign of the rabbit.
Hm. He might be in the vents. Oswald checked the camera, and staring right into his soul, was the blue bunny. He seemed a decent bit from the opening in the office, so the kid had a bit of time to look for those keys.
Hurrying his plan, Oswald ran into the office, throwing junk out of his way as he rummaged through the drawers. He found a set of keys hooked onto a metal ring.
Perfect.
He ran out of the office, just as he heard that rather grating voice.
“New friend.. where are you going?” The bunny stood up from the vent, staring at the boy who stood halfway down the hallway. His voice was rather high pitched, quite annoyingly so. Oswald winced at it.
“Afraid of us toys?” The thing tilts his head, as if offended by the possibility. His eyes were partly slanted. 

“Toys? You? Hardly.” Oswald kept his eyes on the bunny, making sure he didn't leave his sight. Though, it was rather anxiety inducing knowing there were many others in the other room.
“We are the toy animatronics. We live up to the name with our bright, vibrant colors. Much better than the originals, don't you think?” He twirled, as if that would prove a point. To Oswald though, it didn't.
Only proved that this guy was an ego driven wreck, just like the other rabbits.
“Uhhh. Sure.. whatever makes you go away.” He began walking backwards, guiding himself with his hand against the wall. He didn't know how difficult these guys would be to deal with.
But.. he couldn't help but think. Toy animatronics. Where had he heard that name from?
It felt familiar.

“Where are you going? The party is this way..” The toy Bonnie began walking toward the boy, making the kid run away. He ran toward the main room, hiding beneath a table.
The bunny walked into the room, his head turning rather quickly side to side.
“Where did the guest go? Oh well.. he must be here somewhere..” Toy Bonnie began his hunt, looking around the tables. When Oswald knew he was far enough, he snuck back down the hallway. The toy didn't seem to notice.
Thank Scott.
He made his way to the employee's hall, testing all the keys on the ring. The third key opened the door.
Surely the exit is here.
Oswald walked down the dimly lit hallway, seeing three doors. Parts and Service, a storage room, and an unlisted room. He decided to check parts and services first. The door opened into a rather dark room, the light switch not doing anything as the boy tested.
Great.
He looked around the room, seeing a bunch of parts and tools scattered all over the place. Startling him were the main four from the first place, all broken down and out of order. Freddy seemed the least broken, with Bonnie being the most wrecked. He was missing a face, and his hands. Oswald would've felt bad, had it not been for the fact Bonnie hurt his ankle back at Freddy's.

Though, he couldn't help but notice a fox animatronic amongst the broken three he knew. The fox, Foxy if he remembered correctly, didn't look too beaten. He had tears in his chest, pants, and didn't have leg pieces like the other three.
Sucks that this is my first time seeing you.
He didn't approach, unsure if they were deactivated or not. Frankly, he didn't wanna test that at all.
Even if he felt compelled to approach Foxy, for some odd reason.

He decided to leave them be, closing the door. The exit wasn't there anyway, no point in staying. He decided to test the storage, not too surprised to find it was just a bunch of shelves filled with nothing.
Though, he did take notice of a flashlight.
Yoink.
He snatched the flashlight from the shelf, relieved to find it worked. He left the storage room, now more confident with a source of light. He pointed it at the unknown door.
Who knew what was in there..
He took a deep breath, approaching with caution. Grasping the doorknob, he tested it, finding it unlocked. Pushing the door forward, he was met with utter darkness.
Good thing he had light.
He flashed the light around the room, dust particles floating in the air, adding to the uneasy feeling. The room was yet another hallway, to who knew where, with a giant gate blocking the way. It had a sign, covered in dust. The boy had to dust it off just to read it.

No entry point.

What a waste of my time. Oswald tried pulling and pushing against the gate, finding it was firm in place. Probably nailed down.
There was no getting through.
He left the door, shutting the door with a disappointed groan. So much for that.
He stayed in the employee hallway, looking at the tablet. Where on earth was this stupid exit? He tested a few rooms, but found nothing in turn.
The employee hall had three useless rooms, there was no ball pit so that was off the table.
Was he missing something? Maybe. He double checked every room on the camera. Then, at last, he noticed it. Inside the prize counter area was a giant present, brushed off to the side of the room. He recognized that present rather quickly.

The Marionette animatronic from the first restaurant.

He knew exactly where to go from here, or at least an idea. He didn't know if there would be a robot there, but he could sure as hell try. Maybe she'd know where to go.
Putting the tablet down and the flashlight in his pocket, he made his way out of the employee hall. Looking around, he didn't see any sign of that bunny character.
He snuck past the hallway, going into the main room. Then, a not so surprising realization, the boy noticed the chicken was gone.
Great. Now I have two of them to worry about.
He mumbled a curse under his breath, keeping his eyes open. Nothing. Nobody seemed to be in the room, at least. Except for the bear, who was still asleep on stage.
Oswald made his way across the room, toward the arcade, peaking into the room from the side of the doorway. Nobody.
Sneaking over to the present, the boy hid behind it, looking for some sort of crank. When he finally found it, he took a moment to check the area around him. Feeling safe enough, he began to crank the music box, hearing that familiar tune. 

The lid would open outward, but nothing popped up. He was a little worried, getting on his toes to peak over into the box. Suddenly, lanky fingers grabbed him, pulling him in as the box shut behind him.
“Shhh.. they'll hear you.” The voice reassured him, though only a little bit. He was trapped with the puppet now.
After she led him to the glitch in the first place.
“Hey, what gives? You told me to search for this dumb glitch, and now I'm being chased and yelled at by the rabbit.. and these toys.” The boy was a little upset, that much was pretty clear.

“I apologize, I had little choice in the matter. But, I can give you the way out. But, I must warn you.. things will only get worse for you from here.” She warned, seemingly hesitant to help.
“How worse can it even get?” He didn't intend to sound sarcastic, but it did come across like it. It just came naturally, he guessed.
“You're on stage two, the next intermission stage isn't as forgiving as the first. The third stage is even worse than this. From what I know, you won't be able to wake up if you don't get past stage five.” She warned. Oswald blinked in disbelief, but thought back on other nights. He knew the thing very much could keep him asleep.
Somehow. He was also alarmed, now knowing he had to deal with this three more times in order to wake up.
He didn't know how, or even why any of this was happening at this point. It was all just so confusing. Something much larger was gling on, bigger than what the rabbit is leading on. There are just too many factors that lead seemingly nowhere.
Was he missing something?
What was going on outside..
“Do you honestly know what's actually happening? With all these bunnies and weird dream stuff?” Oswald tested his luck, hoping for something. Anything. A tiny bit of knowledge could go a long way.

“I know some, but not much.” She sat against the wall, though Oswald couldn't really see. There was no light in here. He didn't know if she was sensitive to light, so he kept his flashlight off.
“You remember that home, the one you woke up in? That bookshelf has a book about Mr.Afton.. You might've guessed that maybe reading it is necessary. But, there is another room adjacent to yours. That's Mr.Afton's room. By any means necessary, find a way in. Do what you can to lull the rabbit into a false sense of security. Make him think you've changed your mind. Maybe, he'd eventually allow you to explore deeper in that house. A lot of answers could be given in that house alone.” The idea has come across him before, but seemed way too risky. He was a bad liar, he didn't think he'd be a good actor.
But, for answers, he's gonna have to try something.

“Alright.. I could try that.” Trusting her was risky, she was in the dream after all. But, maybe, this could work.
He'd just have to keep his mind clear and his thoughts empty. Divert his attention if he must.
“Good, good.. You are aware of the new Freddy's location opening in your town, right?” He blinked.
I almost forgot about that.
“This place is essentially the same place that'll open. I will be waiting in the prize room, if you ever go. But, for your safety, I recommend staying as far away as you can. If you turn up, by some means you were unable to prevent, go to the prize room.” She warned, rather abruptly.
“You'd be there? How?”
“I'm a ghost. I have many ways.”

Oh. Cool. There's more people I have roaming my head. Amazing.
Happy days.
“Ah, alright then..” He wanted to wake up already, way past the point of being tired.
He was exhausted. Everything was getting more and more complicated. He didn't think he'd end up at Freddy's, but the way she spoke, there might be ways that fate will force him to go. If that happens, the way she talks of it makes it seem there is something else waiting for him.
That couldn't be good. Especially if a ghost is going out of her way to warn him in his dreams.
“Wait.. why are you helping me?” He looked up at where he assumed the ghost was.
“I was a child like you once, many years ago. I was killed by Mr.Afton, in an alleyway. I've long since  forgotten my name, my father's name, my childhood before the incident.. I do, however, remember him. What he has done.. to all of us. We wish to avoid him coming back, to avoid any more children dying like we did. I simply wish to keep them safe.” The Marionette's voice shook a little, Oswald swore he heard a faint cry from her echo-y voice.

“Alright.. I'll do my best to help.” Oswald rubbed his arm, a little nervous of what's to come. It sounded like it would be a pretty big thing. But, something popped into his mind.
Wait. Him?
“Wait.. prevent who from coming back? The yellow rabbit? That thing is a person?” The one thing repeating in the boy's mind was: please don't be a person. Over and over. He wouldn't feel too great if he ended up killing a person.
Even if that person seemed to be a child murderer. He didn't want to end up like him.

“Afton. He wore the yellow rabbit when he came for them. Not for me, he was in his simple clothes. You have met a figment of what he was through your rabbit. That rabbit in the back was only a figment the rabbit created to simulate him. You have met what he was, but pray you won't meet him in the real world. He will not hesitate.” She grabbed him, a bit tightly for his liking.
“Stay away from the boarded up room. There is something.. wrong with that room..” She'd let go after a moment, sitting back down.
“Alright then, I'll uh- keep that in mind. But, for now.. can you tell me where to get out of this place?”
“Oh.. right, yes. It's in the kid's area. I don't know exactly where, but I know it's in that room.” Oswald found it rather odd..
He woke up in that room, so why would the rabbit put the exit in there? Maybe to avert expectations and confuse the kid? Maybe..
“Alright, thanks-” He was about to leave, but was suddenly stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Beware the Mangled..” She whispered, the warning clear. Oswald froze in place, waiting for her to let go. When she did, he held his wrist, soothing the area.
“Ok..?” He was finally let out, needing a bit of help to do so. When he finally felt the ground, he made his way toward the kid's area.
He checked around the dining area, finding all three toys were looking for him. He was starting to hate these guys.
He crouched, sneaking under the table, hearing all of them taunt him.

“Oh, come out, buddy! We're only trying to help you..” A goofy, deep voice. Toy Freddy, likely. 

“We have cake and ice cream for you! Wouldn't you like that, friend?” A shrill, girly voice. Definitely Toy Chica.

“It's much safer here than out there. You'd know that by now.” That dorky toy bunny he heard earlier.

They were all looking, trying to lure him out with false promises and cheap tactics. None worked, of course. These tricks were old school, every kid has heard them before in those PSAs. 
Or at least- heard the first two. That third one was a straight up lie made by the rabbit.
Oswald ignored their worlds, crawling from table to table. His fears from earlier were sadly correct; they barely made noise. They sounded almost like plastic, cheap and light compared to the harsh metal of the main trio.
At least the trio also made some noise, these guys were mostly quiet. The new generation of robotics seemed much scarier than the older models.
Why would they make them so different? To cut back on expenses?

Why was the town even building an animatronic establishment? We don't even have a working police phone line.

Oswald shook his head, getting back to the main task. It was rather hard to see where he was exactly.. The cameras didn't provide too much help.
He wasn't even visible.
But, soon enough, he made it to the kid's side area. He waited for when the toys were far enough before sneaking off into the room. If he remembered correctly, there was an odd room connected to this room.
That could possibly be the exit.. but it leads to the room with the Mangled animatronic. Would that even be a risk worth taking? By how the Marionette talked about it, it sounds pretty dangerous.
But, there was the fact he had dealt with the rabbit. Surely the Mangled couldn't be that bad.
Right?

He walked over the bridge, crawling under the gym set, going through the small tunnel area toward the back door. It was a small hall, but thankfully took only four steps to get to the door.
This place has a thing for hallways apparently.
He knocked on the door, testing it before rushing behind the wall.. waiting. Good thing, as the door creaked open, rather ominously.
Maybe the thing was into theatrics.
Then, an ear piercing radio-like sound filled the room. The sound was horrible, loud and rather unbearable. Oswald covered his ears, feeling his teeth grind.
Ugh-
He could hear the thing crawl, alarmingly sounding low to the ground.
So the thing is on my level?
He held his breath as it crawled past him, easily going through the tunnels. It was as if it knew the place really well. That would be a problem.

Hopefully the exit is in that room.

He snuck into the room, finding.. nothing. It was a mostly empty room, with some crude kid drawings on the walls. Similar to the ones he found back at, supposedly, Afton's house.
There wasn't much he could do in here. At least he could take a moment to think.
The exit was in the kid's area.. so maybe he had to actively find it in that room. If it isn't a door.
Then it had to be through something.
It wasn't the ballpit, as it was too shallow. So it must be somewhere in the gym itself.
Maybe through a tube or a slide.
Definitely had to be.

He left the small room, pausing at the doorway. He felt his heart stutter. On the ground, staring at him, was Mangle. That garbage noise is still playing, sharp and glitchy. 
It began moving, rather quickly, toward Oswald. In a quick effort to protect himself, he stepped back and slammed the door in its face. He pushed against it as the metal creature scratched and banged on the other side.
The nails were tearing through the wood, likely causing permanent damage.
It was persistent.
He thought quickly, opening the door, hiding behind it. The Mangled crawled in, looking ahead, giving Oswald the chance to book it. Unfortunately for him, this creature seemed smarter than the toys, or just heard him running. The creature followed him, its jaws unhinging as it tried to bite.
It caught his arm, biting hard as it pulled back. The pain was instant, causing the boy to let out a harsh yelp. Much like with the rabbit, he attempted to punch it off. That didn't seem to do much- except hurt his hand.
Instead, he kicked and elbowed, trying to get it off.
Nothing is working-!

He grabbed the jaw with his free hand, desperately trying to dislodge it. Though, it had a way too firm grip to even move it. He had to do something- He noticed an odd looking piece attached to its neck.
It had an eye, so it was definitely important. He grabbed it, yanking at it. That seemed to make the creature let go.
Oswald used the opportunity to run, holding his hurt arm tightly. The feeling of deja vu was making him dizzy.
When he saw the Mangled behind him, he knew he had to focus hard if he wanted to get out. He quickly climbed the rainbow colored steps, almost tripping at the weird lump form of each step. He crawled through a blue tube like tunnel, hearing that ear piercing sound getting closer and closer. But.. then.. it stopped.
He heard nothing.

Was this it!?

He kept crawling in what seemed to be an endless tunnel. Until suddenly, it dipped, turning into a slide as the boy made an alarmed yell. He didn't slide down very gracefully, his body twisting and turning as he tried to straighten himself. He practically slammed against the wall at every turn. 
He would land on a rather rough padding at the bottom, cushioning his rough fall. While picking himself back up, he noticed he was in an odd area. A whole new area.
A much bigger jungle gym. Peaking out from the cage he found himself in, he felt sick. It was endless-! A void filled with endless jungle gym pieces, all mushed together to form a larger jungle gym.
Slides, tubes, pits, balance beams, small rooms with windows, parkour areas that didn't seem too fun. It was nauseating.
And he had to find an exit in here!?

“Remember, little Ozzy? You used to love the jungle gym back at that old restaurant you and your folks went to. You loved it.” The rabbit was back, this time not screaming at the boy. Though, he still had a slight edge to his voice. That condescending tone.
“Do you just know everything now?” He sat on the ground, feeling a bit defeated as he looked over the endless void.
If there was another, much deeper layer of hell. This would be it.
He laid on the floor.
“Of course I know everything. A father must know everything about his son. Maybe that proves I'm the better one, seeing how your father barely even knows you.” There it is. That salted anger the thing seems to have now. One night was all it took for this thing to get angry.
“Stop talking like that. You know he's better..”

“I beg to differ.” Oswald heard a faint hint of annoyance in his voice, finding it rather ironic. He crossed his arms, deciding to just peel it back a bit.
“So. Afton, huh? Is he like.. your role model?”
“So.. I see you've met Charlie.” The rabbit dodged the question, which only proved that the whole speech Charlie gave was somewhat true.
“Her name is Charlie? Alright then. You got a problem with her?”

“Some people are just better off gone. It's a simple way of life. Some deserve to stay, others better left forgotten amongst the rest of their.. peers. A privilege is gained, not simply earned by any basic means. You'll understand all that when you're older.” Oswald always hated that statement: ‘when you're older’. It only works in some cases. Here though, it doesn't. He understood what the rabbit was saying.
He also understood it was nonsense.
The rabbit was only saying this out of sheer bias. Why else would something try reasoning for a child murderer's return rather than a child ghost sticking around?
It was sheer bias.
“Sooo.. how did Afton earn that privilege? Was he some kind of philosopher or somethin’?” Maybe if he acted convinced, his sudden change could seem more realistic.
Slowly start showing interest and change of ideas, maybe then the rabbit would believe it.
Changing too soon would be suspicious.

“He was, in a way. He had rather unique ideals. Nobody in his time really understood what he was going for, what he represented. They were fools, uneducated fools. But, times changed. They'll soon see things his way, as you'll see mine. It's just nature's course.” Oh, the urge to argue with this man. It was coursing harshly through his veins.
But he couldn't, he had to play his cards right.
“I.. see. Well, since it might be awhile since that all comes, can you maybe give a hint or something? This puzzle seems a bit.. difficult.” He sat up.

“A hint? For you? Now, think child.. Why would I help you find an exit in a puzzle I designed to keep you here? Now that doesn't seem very smart now, does it? Besides, you're old enough to do things on your own. You can surely handle it. Though, I will tell you.. you aren't as alone as you may think. So, have that on your mind.”
“Oh.. of course.. Why didn't I think of that? Of course I'm not alone.. After all, a father wouldn't leave his son all alone. That'd be neglect.” He sarcastically remarked, crossing his arms. Though he couldn't help but feel a little alarmed at that warning. What on earth could be roaming around the jungle gym area? A new enemy or an old one?
Either way. It definitely wouldn't be so friendly.

“Well. You are right, it would be rather neglectful of me to leave you all alone. I have great consideration for you, Ozzy. Besides, I gave you a flashlight. A heartless, irresponsible father would've thrown you in without anything. Aren't I a good father now?” Oh, right, the flashlight. Oswald dug into his pocket, pulling out the forgotten tool.
He probably could've used this against the Mangled, but he forgot about it while he was being torn into.
Speaking off.. his sleeve wasn't looking very good. Blood was leaking through the fabric, jagged tears into his sleeve. He didn't want to begin thinking of what it looked like uncovered. 
“Uh, hey… dad… Can you maybe fix my arm? The uh.. dog.. got it..” He raised his arm into the air.

“Well, it seems someone is finally addressing me correctly.. I guessed you earned a small reward.” With a sudden sound of a snap, his arm was seemingly restored. Though, not much.
His sleeve was repaired, but his arm wasn't healed. Though, it was bandaged up and seemingly handled. Better than nothing.
“Thanks..” He rubbed his arm, a stinging sensation making him wince.

“Of course, my child.”

Chapter Text

It was endless, the continuous slides and tubes that just led to another part of the jungle gym. It was starting to confuse the poor kid, the exit seemed to be more and more distant as his chances of escape seemed lost. And, to add salt to the already big wound, there was more stuff after this.
This was only the second intermission room, and he wasn't even close to figuring it out. It just seemed impossible. A task built to push him further and further back into the cage.
This was a prison.
A prison painted with bright colors to drive him up the wall, a prison to keep him contained as the rabbit did who knows what. He doesn't know how long he's been climbing, crawling, and walking. But it felt like hours.
Since the rabbit fixed his arm, it went quiet. Too quiet for Oswald's liking. It felt lonely, which was saying a lot given the rabbit's company was the last thing he wanted.

He climbed a rock wall of sorts, grabbing the railing for extra support as he hoisted himself up. Even if this was all a dream, it felt real enough where pushing himself actually made him feel tired. His arms hurt, his legs hurt, everything hurt.
Oswald laid against the railing of the platform, taking a moment of rest. He wasn't sure if he should ask the rabbit how long he's been here, unsure if he even wanted the truth. If it was hours long, then it would look like he was in some sort of coma to his parents. If it wasn't that long or long at all, then this really was affecting him.
Both were terrible. Though one was definitely worse. He really didn't want to worry his parents.

He stared at the floor for a few more moments before standing up, continuing onward. The platform leads to even more tubes, annoyingly colorful tubes that likely lead to another slide or something.
Yeah. He was getting annoyed. Though, he does occasionally see a bright side to things. For one, this seemed rather easy to go through unlike the ball pit from the first one. And the best part, he hasn't run into any weird characters. Maybe the rabbit said that to scare him, though that seems a bit unlikely. When the rabbit said there'd be something, surely there was something.
There had to be.
He just knows it.

He climbed through the tunnels, noticing small holes on the walls. It felt like he was at the park the school took him to on field trips. Before he outgrew them, he usually sat in the tunnels the entire time, drawing in his sketch book as Ben talked about random topics.
Those were some good days.
He wondered, if he could get the chance to talk to Ben, how would he react to everything? Would he believe it? Think it's all a joke? Probably something like that.. Ben never was the superstitious type. He didn't believe in ghosts or creatures, nor did Oz.
It's quite jarring how different he is now.
He looked out the holes, seeing nothing but the endless jungle gym he was trapped in. Could he escape at this rate?

There were no signs of an exit, and the Rabbit wasn't going to give him any leeway here. There was one thing Oswald couldn't help but consider.
Does the Rabbit have a plan to prevent any suspicion in the real world? He didn't seem too fond of his parents, but surely he knew putting him in a deep sleep would get them involved. Is that what he would want?
Probably not, he did seem very keen on keeping only Oz aware of the truth when he replaced his father.

Then, what was he doing to make him appear ok? Surely something was going on out there. But, thinking of possibilities was starting to stress him out a bit.
He was losing focus.
He had to focus if he wanted out.
Shaking his head, Oswald continued to crawl through the multi-colored hell. One tube only leads to another, then to a rather steep slide. Going down the slide, he found himself in a rather different looking part of the jungle gym. It was a line of disconnected wooden boards, held up by ropes attached to the ceiling. It hung over a ball pit of bright baby blue colored balls.
Great. Balancing. My favorite.

Oswald hated these kinds of exercises. He could barely run without tripping, he was never a great balancer.
Oh well.
Despite the obstacle he didn't like, he knew he was on the right path. This was new, surely he was getting closer to some exit. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the sturdy rope, taking the first step.
The beam was very wobbly, Oz needing to hold both ropes to keep himself steady. It was like he was trying to stand on a swing. This was definitely designed to be challenging, particularly to Oswald. Taking it one beam at a time, he managed to get halfway before hearing something. Soft padding against the ground, like something was walking.

He turned around, seeing a bunny mascot.
It looked like one of the old mascots from the posters he saw of Spring Bonnie and Fredbear at the first location. It looked a bit bigger in person, with droopy eyes that didn't seem to focus. Its mouth was a bit wider as well.
It screamed danger, just by appearance alone. Oswald knew this thing would be dangerous. It waved at him, a slow wave that seemed rather disconnected, like it wasn't waving at him.
The boy faced forward, seeing another mascot standing at the other side, waving back at the other mascot. It looked exactly the same as the other, a clone of some kind.

Oswald was cornered, unable to go forward or back at this point. The only way left to go was down, down into the ball pit. He finally finds an unfamiliar place, just to be cornered and have no choice but to deter from the path.
A bit annoyed by this, he tried speaking his way out.
“Uh.. hello. May I uh- past through here?” He asked, unsure why he was even trying this option. The mascot shook his head slowly.
“Why not?” The creature tilts his head, as if he couldn't understand the boy's question. These things didn't seem to have the ability to talk.
So that was plan A already out the window.
Oswald took a deep breath, trying to cross over anyway. Maybe, if he was fast enough, he could pass by. The creature seemed to have caught on, moving forward to block his way.
In a rather jerky move, Oswald moved back. This movement wasn't calculated very well, making the boy loose footing. He fell between two of the beams, having to hold onto the one in front of him to keep himself from falling.
This wasn't good.

“H-hey- uh- buddy! We.. we can talk, right? Surely you have some type of connection to the rabbit. Li- Listen- hear me out.. We could all agree to be peaceful. I- I'm sure.. dad would be ok with just one helping hand. Just this once-!” He tried his best, not wanting to go down yet another ball pit. They never led anywhere good.
But, it seemed his plea went on deaf ears, as the rabbits just stared at him, as if waiting for him to fall.
As if telling him, to his face, he had no choice.
With his strength giving out, he inevitably let go, falling back into the pit.

He fell through plastic that felt like he was falling six feet into his casket. But, instead of wood, he landed on firm matting.
The room around him was dark, the plastic balls that marked the end of the pit just simply floated overhead. Physics seemed loose in this realm.
It made sense at least, it was all a dream anyway.
Oswald sat up, rubbing his head. The mats didn't do much to cushion his fall. It was rough, definitely made of some sort of firm material he likely didn't know the name of. His school couldn't afford these types of material, so he never had to land on one before.
Thankfully the budget didn't cover it, these things were not comfortable in the slightest.

The boy got up after a moment, looking around the new environment. It looked just like the jungle gym above, minus the odd purple lighting that helped him see.
It was pretty dark down here. Maybe this was the way he was meant to go. Thinking about it, he believed he found an idea.
Go down.
Maybe the exit was somewhere at the bottom of the layers of jungle gym. Though, he didn't know if there was a limit on how many layers there were.
Only one way to find out.
Taking out his flashlight, he navigates through the darkness to the only tube in the room. Crawling through felt much different than how it felt up there.
Up there, it was nostalgic and rather calming. The unawareness of the mascots added to the calming feel.
Here, it felt like he was in some kind of horror movie.
Not very pleasant.

He found himself in a room with two doorways, a stairway going up and another going down. There were bridges going to similar rooms to his left and in front of him. There were multiple copies of this exact structure. Looking out, he'd see that they were castles, all with different colored pointy roofs.
He decided to go down the stairway, nothing but a small room with toy plushies of the main four: Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Foxy. There were two others, Fredbear and SpringBonnie. He left the plushes.
“Aren't you gonna pick a friend?” He heard a voice speak, as if it was a voice in his head. He twisted, turned, but saw nothing.
Huh, maybe it was his imagination.
He tried walking up, but heard the same voice.
“Pick a friend.” It wasn't a suggestion this time, but rather a demand. He sighed, going back down to look at his options.
He chose Foxy.

But, as if it were made centuries ago, it turned to dust. He tried Freddy, the same result. Chica and Bonnie followed the pattern, all becoming clumps of dust.
As if they were burnt in some sort of fire.
He picked up Fredbear, watching his head fall off onto the ground.
Well, that leaves only one option. He grabbed Springbonnie, not surprised it didn't have anything happen to it. He put it in his pocket, finally able to leave the room.
Maybe it would be useful later.

He headed up finding nothing around the other castles ahead. He'd turn to his left, this time he did notice something. There was a kid, on the ground with their knees to their chest, head hidden in their knees. They were in the castle at the end. Of the lineup, which appeared to be three. Each row of castles ahead also seemed to be a row of three. Though, the yellow rooted castle seemed to be the only one with an occupant.
Left it is.
He walked over, keeping his distance rather than fully approaching.
“Uh, hello?”
“I want my mommy..” They whispered, their voice echo-y and distant. It sounded like a girl. Finally able to distinguish her features, he saw she had golden, curly hair, wore a pink dress with long white socks and black Mary Jane's. Their color a were pretty dull, a hint of grey to it. Weird..
“Uh.. Who are you?”
“I don't.. remember.. I'm scared..” She cries, a soft cry that seemed rather close to becoming a full on sob.

“Maybe.. I can help you?” He offered.
“We.. can't be helped.. It's too late for us..” She continues to weep, not showing her face to the kid. He looked around, unsure what to do exactly.
“Bring.. me my plushie.. please.. She brings me comfort.” The girl asked, raising her head. Oswald jerked. Her eyes were black, small white irises shaking in fear. She had black streaks running down her cheeks, as if she were in a permanent state or crying. Her skin seemed rather grey for a human.
She was a ghost.
“O-oh- Uhm.. alright. What does your plush look like?”
“Chica..” He internally cursed. The one Chica plush he saw turned to sand. Maybe it spawned somewhere else? Looking out from the bridge it seemed pretty small for a location. Very different than the seemingly endless jungle gym above.
Making this a whole lot easier on him.
“I think.. I can manage.”

Oswald left the small girl for now, a bit unsure where to go. He left to the castle set next, going downstairs. Finding nothing, he went up, went upstairs and found nothing. Purple castle was empty.
This was going to take a bit..
Going back down, he froze in place. On one side of the bridge, the bunny mascot stood, staring directly at him.
Crap, they're here.
The boy decided to go back the other way, running off. He heard footsteps behind him.
Crap, it was chasing him. He ran past the girl, hoping the rabbit didn't stop for her. By the sound of it, it didn't.
He turned around, watching as the rabbit suddenly stopped moving, freezing in place.
Are you kidding me-? Another weeping angel gimmick!?
But, Oswald knew this was going to be ok. As long as it didn't get near him and he kept it in his sight, he'd survive. He just had to play it safe from here. He began walking backward, keeping his eyes glued on the rabbit.

When he was far enough, he hid behind a wall. The rabbit mascot looked around, having lost the boy..
Oswald could hear it walking off elsewhere.
Feeling safe enough, he headed down the steps, finding the Chica plush. It was near a set of animal toys, mostly dogs. The Chica plush held a golden retriever toy, looking outward toward a small kitchen set.
Maybe that little girl was playing here earlier?
He picked up the Chica plush, noticing the dog was attached to her hands.
Hopefully the little girl doesn't mind that.

He peaked out from the steps, seeing that he was clear to continue. He left the small basement area, retracting his steps back to the little girl. The bunny mascot was roaming a bit far from her, thankfully.
He finally made it to her, handing her the plush.
The girl jumped in joy, taking the Chica plush from the boy and hugging it tight.
“Thank you! I missed her so much..! But.. my friends are also missing their toys.. could you help them too?” She asked, tilting her head sideways.
Oh boy.
“Sure. Where are they?”
“They're.. around somewhere. But.. the mean bunny might try stopping you. Don't let him! I want us all to be free..” She motioned toward the mascot.
Starting to have a suspicion.

“Yeah.. alright. Well- do you at least know where one of your friends are? I don't wanna run aimlessly with that thing around.” He hoped he could at least know where one kid is.
Better than aimlessly roaming and risking his safety for the sake of another kid. Something that agitated him to no end back at Freddy's.
“My friend.. he is looking for his Foxy plush. He's in one of the castle's basements.. Please help them.. maybe we can be free one day..” She smiled, hugging her plush before vanishing into thin air.
Oswald walked the other way, hoping the kid wouldn't be too far. The first castle basement was empty, the second and third also being empty. The fourth castle thankfully was his location.
A boy in a red and white striped shirt, black shorts, casual shoes with a hook toy sat on the ground, his legs in front of him. He seemed tired. He kept note of his steps.
Down. Left. Left. Up. Red roof castle.

“Uh, hey.. you the kid looking for the Foxy plush?” Oswald asked, kneeling down to him. These kids were spirits, he wanted to at least be respectful.
“Yeah.. you have him?”
“Um, no. I was just wondering if.. you were him. I'll go find it though.”
“Thanks..”
The kid didn't seem to be much of a speaker. Though, Oswald wasn't going to complain. Less talk meant more action. He went upstairs, noticing the rabbit was across the map.
Good.

He wasn't sure where to go exactly, but he mentally mapped out the area as he went. There were about fifteen castles, all within a small box-like shape, connected by bridges. All of them were colored, First being red, second being orange and third being yellow. It went in rainbow order, starting right to left. After purple it went to random colors. If he were to guess, the plush might be further away from the kid like the Chica plush was.
He skipped the two closest castles, going top to bottom first. Nothing in blue or purple. In the grey roof castle, under the purple, he checked the basement before going upstairs. 
The fox plush was laying in a pile of matches, all used and broken apart.
Okay. Weird.
He took the plush, looking at the matches. One was unused, lying where the Foxy plush laid. For possible future use, Oswald took it.
When he went back down the stairs, he saw that the rabbit was getting close, walking in his direction.

Oswald hid up the stairs, keeping still as the rabbit walked by. It didn't seem to have noticed him, oddly unfocused in where it was going.
This guy isn't as much of a threat as I thought he'd be..
Oswald would've been disappointed if this were a game, but since he was actually in the presence of the thing, he felt much happier. This would be a nightmare if these things had the same brain as the rabbit. He already had enough nightmare animatronics to worry about anyway.
Which he knew most would return at some point.

He ran out of the castle, the opposite direction of the rabbit creature. He felt his mind desperately trying to remember which castle that kid was in. He was very sure it was the red one, as these kids seemed color coded.
Oddly.
He ran down the basement of the red castle, relieved to find the boy waiting.
Okay so they were color coded. Maybe the colors are based on their animatronics.
Oswald mentally filed that in important notes, handing the kid the plush.
The tired kid jumped with joy, standing up as he took the toy with joy.
I wouldn't be too overjoyed if I were given a plush of the robot that I was assigned to.
“Wow.. thanks dude. I thought I lost him forever..” He smiled, moving the plushes arms around.

“You're welcome.. so uh- do you know who the next kid is..?” He wanted to know before the kid vanished, it sounded like they were here for only a limited time after getting their plush.
All he needed was the plush.
“I.. think he was looking for his Freddy plush. He went off somewhere downward..” He pointed off, downward toward a line of castles connected by the bridges.
So he's in the brown tower.
“Alright. Thanks.” Oswald set off down the line. These patterns was starting to sound familiar. Yellow, Red, now brown. Where had he heard that pattern before?

The blue bird returned home alone.

The birds! The tale the Marionette, or Charlie, spoke of when he first met her. He knew the Bonnie kid would be next, then Golden Freddy.
But, with the amount of towers, would he find out who the sixth kid was or would he just be given a way out?
He was curious if he was right that Charlie was the sixth. In the meantime, he kept track of the towers. He passed by green and black before he reached brown.
“Hello? You here, kid?” He checked the basement, finding it empty, heading upstairs and finding the kid sitting at a desk by the window. Each castle seemed to have a different basement and top room.
“Hey, are you looking for a plush?” The boy kept his distance.
“Yeah.. how'd you know..?” He turned to Oswald, tilting his head. The kid had the same black eyes and white irises as the other two, brown hair differentiated him from them. He wore a white button up, black vest, and brown pants.
An odd choice of clothes.

“Your friends told me about you. I could help you find it.” This seemed to be a repetitive puzzle, but one he knew he needed to do.
Just like the nights at Freddy's. Solve a puzzle, save a kid, escape.
It was a constant.
“Yeah.. I'd appreciate that.. Thanks, kid." The boy sat back in his spot, staring off into the abyss. The brown tower was at the end of the line of castles, the window had nothing but the abyss to see.
And the weird sea of plastic balls.
Cause of course a ball pit had to be there.
He went back downstairs, taking notice of something. Something pretty bad.

There are two rabbits now.

Chapter Text

Two corners, red and yellow castle, the rabbits roamed freely. They were clearly looking for him, taking a few steps before looking left to right.
Oswald quickly ducked behind the wall, trying to think of how to deal with both. One was easy, two were a bit intimidating. Though, they worked in a way that was easy for the kid.
But the worry that he could have one in view and the other behind him was a bit scary to think about.
He looked out toward the castles, keeping himself out of view of the two rabbits as much as he could. Oswald made his way to the right, going through to the white castle.
He wasn't sure which castle to check. Going upward was a risk with two rabbits, and checking downward would be a waste. It was clear the plushes were all further away from where the respected kid would be.
Despite this, he checked anyway. Not much of a choice in the matter, as the rabbits were clearly camping the castles up top. As if they knew Oswald needed to go up there.. 

Oswald headed to the white castle, heading upstairs. At the opposite end of the room was a bookshelf with only one book. Might as well.
He took the book, checking the cover. The cover had a prince, dressed in yellow, in a somewhat cowardly looking stance. Above him were two figures, a girl and a rabbit. The rabbit held an axe, an all but creepy smile on his face as his eyes looked back toward the second figure.
The second figure was a girl, a red line through her neck. She didn't have a face, so likely she would be killed somewhere in the story.
Why was this here?
He opened the book, seeing the bold title.

The cowardly prince.

Oswald shrugged. He wasn't able to get to the other castles anyway, so he might as well kill some times so the rabbits can move somewhere else. He could always keep an eye on them and move about more smartly. But, he wanted to at least check out the book first.

He was growing a bit tired anyway. 

Many years ago.
In a castle within a lovely valley lived a royal family: a young prince and older princess.

The prince and princess would do everything together: play in the valley, eat fruit by the trees, and read tales by the fire.
They were inseparable.

But on one faithful day, the children treaded too far from their valley, ending up in the kingdom of the Bunny king.
The Bunny King grew angry at the children, angered by their trespassing. He took his mighty axe, waiting for the children to enter his domain.

As expected, the children arrived at the castle, the wonders of the new realm blinding their judgement. They were both met by the angry Bunny king, who roared at them in anger for their crimes.
The children pleaded, explaining that they didn't know they were trespassing, but the king didn't listen.

With his mighty axe, the king slayed the princess right in front of the young prince. With terror now consuming the boy, he began to run, crying as he was chased by the bunny.
But, the king was not fast enough.
The cowardly prince ran home, vowing to never leave his kingdom again.

Oswald stared at the last page in disbelief.
What the hell kind of story was that?
He noticed a few pages were torn out, jagged edges indicating it was torn in a fit of anger rather than neat tearing.
Someone must've hated the ending of the story.
The ending did intrigue Oswald, wondering just what pissed someone off so much. Maybe the kids would know? He'd make sure to ask, but first, he had to find that Freddy plush.
He stuffed the book into his inner pocket of his hoodie, holding it close as he began to tread carefully down the stairs.
Seeing the cost was clear, he checked outside to see where the bunnies were.
One was checking around the yellow castle, the other missing.

Probably looking in the top room or basement of a castle.
Hoping he didn't run into it, he checked the basement of the white castle. Nothing but thrown around tools and broken toys.
Weird. But not the weirdest room I've seen.
He walked back upstairs, going to the next castle over: the black castle. This one was a bit hard to see, as it blended in with the void around. But, he did notice odd patterns.
White buttons.
Was this castle a reference to the puppet or something?
Checking the basement, he found a figure standing in the middle of the room, holding their arms close to themselves. They seemed upset, trying their hardest to comfort themselves.
A spirit probably.

“Uh.. hello?” Oswald wasn't sure if he should approach the ghost, not wanting to startle them anymore than they probably were. These spirits seemed sentient, or at least enough his dream could allow.
He wasn't too sure how all of it was happening yet. Charlie was real enough, or at least enough to anger the yellow rabbit, so maybe the others were.
Maybe. He wasn't sure where they were. The ghost, a girl by the sound of her voice, spoke.
“It isn't fair..” She grumbled, seemingly annoyed.
“What isn't?”

“I die by his hands, yet he gets to live? How is that fair? I did nothing to anger him.. I was just there to celebrate my brother's birthday. I promised him the best day he could ever want. Our parents weren't gonna do it, so I stepped up. And I'm killed for it?” She looked at Oswald, her black eyes were a bit different. She had white pupils, her eyes scrunched in anger.
“He deserves hell! Nothing but!” She took a deep breath before staring back at the window.
“Are.. we talking about the rabbit?”
“He is no rabbit. He isn't a fluffy, soft creature. He is a demon I tell you..” She sat on the floor, on her knees.
“I just wish to see my brother again..” She sighed, looking at the floor. Her anger changed into sorrow.
“He must be so scared out there..” Oswald sat down where he stood, still keeping his distance as she spoke.

“Whose.. your brother?” He asked cautiously, keeping his voice low. The last thing he wanted was to piss off an already pissed off spirit.
“I.. can't remember.. anyone's names. Not even my own. The rabbit- I.. I'm not sure if he did something to my.. to our memories. But, it feels like a piece of us was stolen.” She hugged herself again, feeling colder as she shivered slightly. Oswald thought for a moment.
Nobody seemed to remember their names, only snippets of what happened before. They seemed aware that they were killed, but not the person who killed them, just the suit. Was this what happened when someone gets killed by the rabbit? Do they lose their memories?
The thought was a bit terrifying to the boy.
The amount of times he narrowly avoided death, the times he barely managed to escape it. He could've lost everything if he failed.
Not only would he lose his life, but he would lose himself in the process. He wouldn't even remember why he was there, or who he was trying to save.
He barely managed to become the seventh kid the rabbit killed. Barely.

“That.. sounds horrible. I'm so sorry.” He didn't reach for her, opting to give her space. Oswald wasn't all too good at comforting people, but he wasn't going to sit there saying nothing.
"It's..fine. As long as my brother is safe, I can live on peacefully here. I just wish I could talk to him.” She sighed softly.
“The only way a spirit can move on is to give them their happiest day.. Mine would be seeing him smile. Only then can I let myself submerge into death's embrace.”

Well that got pretty sentimental real quick.
“Hm.. maybe if.. Maybe I could help you? I can try and find your brother and forward your message to him. Maybe we could find a way to get you two to talk again.”
“You'd do something that big for a stranger? You truly are a good kid.. uh..”
“Oswald.”
“Alright then, Oswald. I'll do my best to remember that. We don't really get to keep our memories, so if I forget. That's uh- not entirely my fault but, I'd be sorry anyway." He nodded. It sounded understandable.
Though, he could help but question why. Why were they unable to remember? He always heard the saying that the entirety of your life plays back to you as you die.
Are there different results depending how you die? That doesn't seem too fair..
Especially to these kids. They don't seem to remember anything.

“I'll remind you if you need, I won't be that annoying with it.” He gave her some reassurance.
“Thanks, kid.”
“No problem.. but.. if I'm going to try looking for this kid.. or guy.. Do you remember anything? Like the year or.. what he looks like?” He tilts his head.
“He looked kinda like me.. He had brown hair, blue eyes.. he has this birthmark on his neck.. it kinda looked like a uh.. I can't remember, but it looked funny. He is a pretty timid, shy kid. That's all I got, really. But, I do remember the year I died being 1985.”

1985.
That year. The year he was taken back to Freddy's. He remembered all too well.
“Were you one of the kids lured to the back of Freddy's?” Oswald cleared his throat, realizing a bit too late that that didn't sound too good. Sort of disrespectful.
But the girl didn't seem offended, at least.
“I don't think so.. I don't remember too much. But I remember the yellow bunny coming up to me, taking me away from my brother.. then everything went dark.” She tried her hardest to remember it all, but only small visions popped up. They were blurred, a bit foggy, disconnected and disjointed.
But, she remembers one thing; the yellow rabbit.
It's all she could remember from that day.
“Alright. I can try my best to find him. If he isn't in town, then I might not be able to bring your happiest day.”

“It's ok.. The attempt would be good enough for me. It's still quite nice of you to try giving my happiest day to me.. given the fact I'm a total stranger to you. Thanks, Oz. Just.. be careful of any rabbits. They aren't trustworthy.” She gave him a warning before fading away, a piece of paper lying in her place.
Curious, Oswald took the page. It was a page from the Cowardly prince book.. the side showing a matching tear from the jagged remains.
He reads it.

Days passed since the princess's funeral, the boy left in an endless turmoil. He was distant, unresponsive to most people.
The king and queen were torn apart, the queen leaving the kingdom without another word to the king.
She gave her final goodbyes solely to the prince, kneeling before him with a loving but tight grip on his shoulders.
Her words an utter plea:

“Please.. do whatever it takes to bring her justice. I believe in you, my dearest.. In time, we may meet again.”

She left, her sorrow guiding her further and further into the woods.
The son never saw her again after that day.

Oswald could only give a look of confusion and discomfort.
Jeez this book is morbid.
Though, he noticed a few similarities between the girl's story and this one. Maybe this would be his hint of the boy's location? He might be able to use this to find him.
He just has to find the other pages. Judging by the tears, there might be a few more to find. Around five maybe. He guessed. 
It was hard to tell just by how badly the pages were torn. Taking the torn page, he put it into the book, shocked to see the page reconnect to the book. Magic books, how surprising.

Looking around the room, he noticed a coat rack with a few coats. His eyes narrowed in on a book bag.
I'll just borrow it.
He took it, putting the book and the bunny plush inside, slinging it over his shoulders.
Alright. Back to it I guess.
He finally went back upstairs, noticing the rabbits were missing. The boy assumed they were probably in one of the basements or upstairs rooms.
Oswald treaded carefully, making it up to the purple castle, checking the upstairs. The room was vastly different from all the others.
It was an actual bedroom, with purple glowing stars hanging from purple string from the ceiling, the purple bed looking rather comfortable with padded bedding.
The rug had stars, glowing softly. Somehow. There was a bookshelf filled with books, a dresser, and a side table with a lamp. The lamp shade also had stars which seemed to be an obsession for the rabbit. It looks rather nice, having moving stars and moons from a night light that stood in the middle of the room on a small white colored table.

A voice, deep inside his mind, spoke in a soft voice.

“You look so tired, Oswald.. It isn't healthy to go on and on without a break. Why don't you take a nap? I'm sure you'll feel so much better once you do..” It was clearly the rabbit, trying to slow the boy down with illusions of comfort and leisure.
“What? No.. I have things I need to do. I'm not tired anyway, so nice try.” Oswald turned, about to head downstairs.
But, something suddenly struck him.
His vision began to blur, his legs unable to keep balance. Tiny white stars overwhelmed him, filling his vision.
It hurt, his head began to spin, his body feeling weak and numb.

He fell to the floor, the impact hurting quite a bit despite the rug feeling soft and comforting.
“Ugh- wha- what the hell-?” His voice echoed, sounding distant. He could hear footsteps downstairs, deep chuckling from what he recognized were the rabbits.
“No- no! Th..this isn't fair-! I- I gotta.. find the-”
“It's ok, Ozzy.. it can wait. You must rest now..” The voice was clear, sending his mind reeling in confusion. The distortion, the spinning, it was all clearly the rabbit.
But, why? Why was it trying to slow him down? Was he on the right path?
“Let- let me.. solve the puzzle-! I.. can rest after-!” He attempted to beg, but he kept getting more and more tired with each word. It was growing quieter and quieter. Almost mumbling.

“I understand your desire to help the children. But come on, Ozzy, let's be real for a moment.. You must know that helping those who won't return your kindness is a waste. They all seem so happy when you give them what they want, but they do not have any intentions on returning the favor.. Doesn't it grow tiring? Doesn't it hurt you? It isn't fair to you, to give these children your time, your patience. It's.. utterly sad to watch. You should worry about yourself from time to time, give yourself some well deserved rest.” As the rabbit spoke, the two rabbits slowly climbed the stairs, standing above him like shadows.
It was creepy, especially with those lazy eyes and wide smiles.

“Get- get away…” His voice was a whisper, barely audible at this point. He felt hands grab his arms, dragging him against the floor. He wasn't able to struggle, his body was growing weaker and weaker.
Since when could it do this!?
“Shhhh.. quiet now. It's time to sleep, dear. Listen to the music box, it will soothe you.” He began hearing music.
A soft, gentle tune filled his ears. It sounded sweet, like a melody his mother would sing when he was younger.
It was making his eyelids droopy, his mind clouded with clouds.
What's happening-

“Isn't it lovely, Ozzy? A gentle song, one you might even recognize. Though, not much is coming to you.” He could barely even understand what the rabbit was saying, his mind focused on the song.
He didn't even notice he was being tucked in, the rabbits leaving the room.
Could he even sleep in his own dreams? He wasn't sure, but that didn't seem to stop him from drifting to sleep.

Oswald opened his eyes, noticing the same room he fell asleep in. It seemed slightly different though.. larger, now having glass windows. He got up, feeling lighter than usual.
Weird.
He got up, going toward the window. It actually had an outside! Trees, a jungle gym, a shed. The night sky was full of stars, clouds slowly moving as the full moon brightened it all.
Wait.. where was he? He didn't recognize this backyard.. Looking around the room, he saw a photo on the bedside table. The photo showed a family of five.

A father, a mother, and three children.
One was a girl with orange hair, a red bow on her head. She wore a pink dress with white knee high socks, her legs going out of the photo like everyone else. She seemed to be the youngest, or at least the middle.
One of the boys seemed to be crying, wearing a white and black striped shirt with black shorts and white knee high socks. He was holding a golden Freddy plush in his arms.
The last child seemed to be the oldest, standing taller compared to the other two. He looked more punk than the rest of the family, with a black shirt with ripped sleeves. He had black jeans on, a Foxy mask on his head, and a smug look on his face.
The father stood out, having a more formal appearance. He wore a purple suit, with a red bow tie. What struck Oswald the most were those weird silver eyes. Could people even have that color of eyes?
Apparently they can. 
The mother looked very similar to the young girl, having nearly the same hair style and color. She wore a green summer dress and headband on her head, her neck and ears having silver jewelry. Not much of note.

Who were these people?
He put the photo down, exploring the drawers of the dresser. Nothing, not even clothes, each drawer was empty.
The book shelf at least had some books, not as much as the room back in the purple castle. Some toys took their place, holding up what books remained.
These toys were.. familiar. They looked exactly like his, the same robots and everything. Was he robbed? What was this?
He noticed a photo of.. him, on the middle shelf. He wasn't part of this family, why was his school photo here?

“Oswald! Dinner is ready!” He nearly fell over at the sudden feminine voice calling for him. That definitely wasn't his mother.
She had a more higher pitched voice, one he didn't recognize. She was definitely a stranger. As if he was going downstairs.
He explored more, finding another framed photo on the desk.
Wait.. desk? What? That wasn't there before.
It was this desk, the exact one, with all of his art supplies and trinkets.
“What.. what's happening..”

“Oswald! It's going to get cold! Hurry up!” The voice called out again, getting a bit more demanding. He was starting to get a little alarmed.
His photo, his toys, his desk? This stranger calling his name? Was this a new family or something? Only one way to find out..
“Coming..” His voice sounded defeated. He left the room, noticing a hallway. To his right were 4 doors, one next to his, two on the other wall, and one at the end. Each door had a name: Next to his room was David, the one in front of his door was Elizabeth, and the other was Michael. The one down the hallway had ‘William and Charlene.’

William? Who..-

“Hey, shortie. Come on, mom's been calling you.” He yelped as a taller kid came up to him from the stairs. It was the older kid from the photo, except he didn't have his mask on.
“Oh.. uh.. sorry-” Oswald gathered himself, following the kid downstairs.

What was happening?

"Happy birthday too you.."

He ran, his feet padding against the marble floors as he ran through the hallways. The checkered patterns made his head spin, his lungs burning as he began to loose his breath.

"Happy birthday too you.."

He pants heavily, wheezing slightly each and every intake of break he takes. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, his yellow raincoat only seemed to make him feel much worse.

"Happy birthday, dear Jerry.."

It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts! But, the glass doors were in sight. He was almost out of here! The slash in his arm burned, his sleeves soaking in blood. It dripped to the floor as he ran toward the door.

"Happy birthday to you.."

He turned, seeing the source of his terror, standing in that cursed suit. He held the bloodied knife outward, the threat clear in his eyes.
His voice.
His presence..

Coming soon..

Chapter Text

Everything was happening so fast, almost like it was deliberate. It felt like the rabbit was throwing him in a loop, to confuse and disorient him. It's as if something was amidst, something he was close to but pushed away before he could reach it.
Maybe it was that spirit girl? Maybe the rabbit didn't want him to find her brother. But why? Was there something the rabbit had against the guy? Maybe. Or maybe it was the other children, and him retrieving their dolls. But, that couldn't be right, could it?
If the rabbit wanted to stop him from helping these kids, he would've done it sooner. Then again, that purple room was much different than the others. It all happened once he entered.
Maybe he was onto something, going into that room. Something must be in there, something the rabbit didn't want him seeing.
He needs to find a way back, which he hopes is possible. Even if there was nothing there, he couldn't help but be mildly curious.

He just has to pretend to be part of this weird family, then he can explore a bit more.

He stares at his plate: chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, and peas. He doesn't remember the last time he's had a dinner this big, unless it's from a restaurant. His mother used to cook a lot when they had the money from the Mill to afford it, afterward it was a lucky shot if they could.
Though he wasn't complaining, her cooking was good no matter what she had.
He didn't know if he could trust this woman's food though. It was a dream, but he worried there would be some side effects if he ate anything that the rabbit controlled. He instead focused on the family. He had a guess that the oldest was Michael, the middle kid was David, and Elizabeth was the youngest. Based on their conversation, he did his best with what he was given.
Though, the father was a focus point for Oswald. He looked a bit familiar, at least his portrait. Those shoulders, the hair, the suit, it looked familiar.

He swore he'd seen him somewhere.
Somewhere out in the real world.

He also sounded familiar: that deep, creepy voice that had a distinct British accent. He definitely heard him before, if he didn't meet him before.
But where? Good Scott, he can't remember. But, deep down, he is sure he has seen something close to him.

Suddenly, it clicked.
That ruined spring Bonnie in the Fruity Maze! He said his name was William Afton.
Could this also be the same William? It was definitely possible, but he didn't know the guy's last name. He'd definitely have time to explore the house for some clues.
He just needed to make sure to not seem too suspicious, or get attention.

“Oswald, aren't you gonna eat?” The mother, Charlene, asked. Oswald swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse.
“Uh.. I don't know. I don't feel too hungry.” He smiled nervously, knowing that was probably the worst acting he has ever done.
“Hm, try eating something. I don't want you going to bed hungry tonight.” She smiled. She was very out of place amongst the odd selection of characters Oz has met so far. She just seemed so nice. Too nice. These had to be real people the rabbit copied.
Though, how did the rabbit know these people? Does he stalk other families?
“I'll.. I'll try.” He hesitated, poking at the mashed potatoes with a spoon.

Could it even do anything?

He shrugged, deciding to just eat the mashed potatoes. Everyone was having their own conversation, so Oswald just spaced off into his own world.
The food at least wasn't bad, no weird tastes which was good. Not poisoned or drugged, so that's good at least. He finished his mashed potatoes, pushing the plate slightly forward.
“Ah ah ah, nobody leaves the table until everyone is finished. You know this, dear.” Charlene stopped him before he could get up, pushing his chair back.

Why did I sit next to the mother? Oswald grumbled internally, smiling the best smile he could.
“Right, I forgot. Sorry, Mis.” He noticed her face turn from calm to confused before she chuckled slightly.
“Mis? Why so formal with me? Did school teach you kids to call your parents by some sir names?” She seemed to have found it funny, taking a sip from her wine.
“Ah- uh- Yeah. I guess I got so used to calling my teachers by surnames that it's just a habit. Sorry.. mom.” He felt his voice stutter. It felt so wrong calling some random woman mom.
Sorry mom.
“It's alright, dear.” She ruffled his hair, gently compared to how his dad would.
“School has been a bit more strict lately since the recent disappearances. All my teachers have been on me for even calling them just their last names.” Elizabeth chimed in, huffing slightly in annoyance.
“Especially Ms.Johnson! She is so annoying.” She crossed his arms, slumping in her chair. She seemed to be the more dramatic kid.

I might need to be careful around her..

“Huh, I don't blame them. But with names? That might be a little excessive.. maybe because with all the new rules implemented, they might be getting more confident with the power they've been given.” Charlene thought aloud before looking at Elizabeth.
“Best to just try being the best you can be, might get them to ease on you, sweetie.” She suggested.
“That means no more sudden acts of rebellion that you've been doing..” William added, lacking the gentleness that Charlene had.
Oswald went back to zoning out, leaving the conversation between the actual family. After noticing everyone was done, he was the first to get up.

Good grief, those seats were unbearable.
Oswald went to the living room first, looking around the rather bleak room. The room had a very similar layout to the one room back in his earlier nightmares.
In fact.. this whole house seemed familiar, with minor changes. Huh, maybe the rabbit got lazy with this house. Or, he based this off the real house like he did with the people in it. He'd definitely have to check when he wakes up.
“What are you doing?” A deep voice spoke, causing him to jerk. Oh crap it's William-.
“Uh- I'm uh.. bored?”
“Okay.” He shrugged the boy off, going off into some door in the hallway. From the quick glance Oswald got, it looked to be some sort of office.

Maybe that's exactly where I need to go. But how do I get that man out of there?
Oswald stood there, contemplating his options. He could do it the old fashioned way and cause a distraction, but there were no rats and no noise makers he could use that someone may see him use. He might also just ignore it anyway.
He could break something, but he didn't know the type of fuse the man had. He didn't feel like testing if this man beats kids.
By the looks and attitude, he already had a guess.
He looked around, finding the remote on the top shelf of a bookshelf. Clearly put there to be out of reach for the kids.

Hm. Odd.
He went over to the bookshelf, opting to try and climb to the top. Before he put his foot on the shelf, he noticed a page shoved between two books. He tilts his head, pulling it out. It was another page to the cowardly prince story. Oh well, might as well.

With nothing much left, the prince began to become resentful. His urge to avenge his sister grew day by day, while his relationship with his father grew further and further.
He began becoming irrational, acting out on those who tried to approach. It was as if the prince was replaced overnight.
But, even with this newfound determination, he felt like he couldn't return. He was far too scared of the Bunny King to face him again.
It seemed hopeless.

Until one day, he met a Fox who claimed to know the Bunny King better than any other. The prince listened as the Fox began to tell him a way to avenge his sister, saying he knew another king who would be willing to assist in their efforts.
It was all so new, so terrifying.

The prince wasn't sure if he could return ever again with what he plans to do.

Oswald was growing a bit more intrigued by the story. He believed deep down that this was that girl's brother, showing where he could be. But, there were also hints on what he did. Maybe he did something to the rabbit? He wasn't too sure yet, but he definitely wanted to know now.
Maybe he could take hints from his story to come up with his own plan to finally kill the rabbit for good. Given how it's still alive, there's a chance the boy failed. He just hopes he's alive at least, cause then he could actually help.
But, for now, he had to focus on finding a way out of this neverending nightmare.

He put the page in his pocket, noticing his book bag was gone. Maybe it was in the bedroom? Eh, it can wait.
Checking his pockets, he took note of another piece of paper that was in there. Pulling it out, he noticed it was a letter.
Oh. Right. He collected this back at the restaurant with the toy animatronics. He forgot about it.

October. 1983

“It's almost one of their birthdays, Charlene wants to celebrate at Fredbear's Diner ‘cause she knows it will be free. Great, even more brats to worry about.”

“It'll be difficult, after the puppet starts acting up. Guess she actually succeeded in possessing it. Things could get a bit more interesting with this new discovery.”

Oswald's eyes squinted, re-reading the page a few more times before setting it back in his pocket. So that was interesting.
This was definitely written by William, and at least proved he was a murderer.
He had the proof right in his pocket, yet took too long to read it. But, at least he definitely knew now. But what about the others? What about the brother and sister? Did he kill them too? He assumes he did, but isn't too positive on why or if he actually did. Gosh.
He took a deep breath, getting back to climbing the shelf. It seemed stable enough to hold him, allowing him to peek over the top.
Grabbing the remote, he turns on the TV before putting it back. He immediately jumps down, hiding behind the couch as the door to the office swung open.

The man looked around, finding nobody there. He walked down the hallway, presumably looking for Charlene. Oswald took the chance he was given, running lightly to the office to search.
The office wasn't that big, only being a small bedroom size. There was a shelf, filled with folders and files for his work, or at least Oz assumed. The desk was covered in papers, a makeshift cup with pens and pencils, and some newspapers? Oswald grabbed one, peeking at the date.
November 1st, 1983.

Oswald remembers the first note taking place on the third of November, whatever happened must be coming next. He doesn't remember exactly what to note, but someone was implied to have died. Or something of that nature. An accident of some kind.
He put the newspaper down, checking through the papers on the desk. Some blueprints of really tall machines, a girl, a ballerina, a Freddy design, and a Foxy design. So this guy had a niche hobby, ok.
He pushed them aside, finding a newspaper clipping underneath.

Fredbear's owner and co owner signed a deal with Fazbear Entertainment!
Grand opening for Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria with Fredbear's family diner owners Henry Emily and William Afton.

Oh. Okay.
These guys are the owners of that cursed place. Oswald grabbed the clipping, stuffing it into his pocket. The newfound hate for this man was something else, something Oswald hasn't had much experience with.
Yeah, he had some hate for some people like Dylan and his friends, but not something like this. It was almost alarming.
But, deep breaths calmed him down slowly. He gathered his thoughts together.

William owned Freddy's and Fredbear's.
He killed people.
He had a family that seemed way too good for him.
He was experimenting on.. something. Something that seemed to be linked with murder and possession.

He looked further, finding another blueprint. Springbonnie. It showed some sort of springlock mechanism and notes on the side. Does this mean he's the guy behind Springbonnie? The man who wore the suit during the murders?
Oswald sat on the chair, staring at the blueprint. This guy. This guy was to blame for everything. He must've been the reason the Yellow Rabbit exists in the first place.
He must be.
Taking a deep breath, he stood back up, moving stuff back into place. Everything was starting to fall into place, but some bits and pieces are still clearly missing.
That he must find.
But, before he could, he heard footsteps approaching.

Crap- crap-! He's coming back-!

Oswald looked around frantically, eyes going to a closet. Screw it, what choice did he have? He immediately went into the closet, nearly screaming at the suit that hung from a bar.
The Springbonnie suit.
But, thankfully it didn't seem alive, so he crawled into the closet, closing the doors.
Please don't come alive. Please don't. Oswald begged repeatedly in his head.
He didn't want to be jumped by this creature.
The office door opened, the man walking in and sitting back at his desk. Oswald hoped that everything seemed passable, that he wouldn't get even a slight hint that he, or someone, was in his office.

He peaked through the cracked door, checking William. Judging by the lax position, he probably didn't notice anything.
Trying to keep quiet, Oswald stayed still, keeping his eyes wide open and on William.

The man sat at the desk, writing in a journal he hid in the drawer under the desk. It was a personal tracking journal, something he's been using to track the Puppet’s changes and new mannerisms. Not much happening, but it's all going to get better.
Much better.
He sat back in his chair, looking over at a placed down photo. Picking up the wooden frame, he looked at the picture. Not with much fondness, rather he looked on in resentment. Henry. Oh idiotic, naive Henry. What wasn't there something to say to this prick?
William could think of a few things, not nice things but a few things.
He placed the photo down, huffing silently, listening to the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. This was the one place he felt best in. Quiet, away from all the noise, away from all children. It was perfect.
If only life was the same way.

He honestly could've done different choices, mostly with Charlene. After that everything grew louder, more obnoxious. Four kids? Wasn't three enough?
Apparently for her, it wasn't.
He hates kids, yet whatever God he pissed off decided four hell spawns would haunt him for life. Oh how life's cruel irony loved to torment him. He groaned in annoyance, grabbing his coffee and taking a drink.
Black. No sugars, no creamer, no nothing. Straight black. The bitter taste was what gave him motivation to even do anything.
Anyone would be crazy if they thought he actually had passion for Fredbear's, or Fazbear's. It was what kept him afloat.
And now, it was the drive force of his new experiment. One that could potentially allow him to live forever.

Death wasn't something he liked thinking about. It was the one and only thing he feared. But, with what this discovery was telling him, it could be prevented.
Avoided.
All he needed to do was wait a bit. See where this takes him, what this could do for him. It was all looking up.
He rested back against his chair, arms behind his neck for support. He wondered if he had more robots to get this remnant from, maybe he could farm it faster. Make this process a whole lot farther.
Maybe it might be a better option. But he didn't want to do it just yet. Killing one kid was risky, doing more could bring attention to it all.
Perhaps waiting it off a bit might be better. Might be.

Before he could think much further on it, he heard something. Or, he thought he did. A soft shuffling, from somewhere. He looked around the room, eyes darting every corner. Then, he saw it. The closet door was creaked open a bit. Must've left it open. He got up, going over to close the door. He pushed it closed with a huff.
Then. A soft sneeze.
Aha. Someone was in there. He opened the door, seeing the second youngest, huddled behind the Spring Bonnie suit.
“You-”
A sound of shattering glass rang out, followed by a yelp. Definitely David's. He looked at the door to the office, then back at Oswald.
“Stay.” He demands, closing the door before moving the chair to block it. He might find a way to leave, but he wouldn't find a way out of it.

Where would he even go? He lives here.
He left, closing the door behind him to go deal with his family's screw ups.

Oh crap oh crap.
I'm dead. I'm so dead.
Oswald panicked. He could barely breath, and his legs were hurting from the position he chose. When William shut, or sorta slammed, the closet door, dust flew out into his face. This closet was barely cleaned. He was sure if the dust wasn't pushed off the door, he could've drawn on it. It was just like the basement in his actual home.
Dust. A lot of dust. Enough to cause some sort of sickness.
But, of course, luck wasn't on my side today.
Yeah. Thanks.

He tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. Something was keeping him in. He leaned back, kicking harshly against the door, trying to budge it open. But nothing worked.
What on earth was blocking it?
Whatever it was, it was working. Working way too well. The boy slammed his fists against it.
“Hey-! I'm sorry-! Just let me out!” He yelled out, but heard nothing on the other side.
Did the man leave to deal with whatever broke? Cool, he's stuck here now until he comes back.
But, even if it seemed impossible, he kept trying. Trying his damn near hardest. But after a while, he had no choice but to give up. His legs hurt, and his hands were starting to bruise.

He heard the door to the office open slowly, as if the man was taunting him now that he was back. The door closed lightly.
Yeah, screw this guy.
There was a movement outside the closet, like some chair was pulled. Oh, it was a chair?
The closet door opened, William holding it open, pointing at the chair.
Oswald, in a fit of defiance, sat there silently. He refused to do what this man wanted, to give him some sort of power. He wasn't his dad, and he wanted to act as if he was.

“Oswald. Sit.”
“What am I? A dog?” The boy crossed his arms.
“I'm not going to ask again.”
“Then don't.”
“Hm, you have quite an attitude today.” The man spoke in sheer annoyance. This was why he hated children the most after all.
The two sat in silence for a few more moments before William gave up waiting, pulling the kid roughly by the arm. He struggled for a moment, but just gave up, sitting in the chair.
He crossed his arms, tighter to avoid being pulled again.
The closet door was shut, the main leaning against it, starting daggers into the kid.

“So. For what reason were you in here? Last I remember I explicitly said not to come into my office. I thought you were old enough to understand basic rules, Oswald.” The man lectured. The threat was clear as day, Oswald could hear it through his voice alone.
It only pissed the kid off more.
“I thought I heard something here. So I checked.” He lied, looking anywhere but at the man's eyes. He remembered the fact that you could see a lie through people's eyes.
He didn't want to let this man have a chance.
“Oh really?” It seemed it didn't matter.
The man already could tell somehow.
“Yeah.” Oswald tried to sell it the best he could.
“Alright then. I suppose if I checked the little camera up there, I'd hear it too?”
Camera?

He looked around before noticing William point up at the corner of the room. And, as real as it can get, there was a camera.
It was hooked up, hanging from the corner, pointing directly in sight of not only the desk, but also the closet.
He was screwed.
“Uh. Ok. You got me. I got a little curious, that my fault was. I'm sorry.” He used tactic two: using false guilt to make the adult back off. Maybe, if he tried, he could get out of this without William checking the feed.
He took a few things after all.
“Hm. That's what I thought. You know I hate liars, Oz.” The man smiled.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate-
“Why don't we check the feed together."

“Uhm.. why?”
“Because. Your tactics don't work on me. I've dealt with kids far worse than you. Do you really think I couldn't see right through you? You're my own blood, Ozzie. I know you.” The man spoke with clear disdain, but also some sort of pleased satisfaction.
He was truly enjoying this huh?
“We.. don't have to do that.” At this point, Oswald was getting a bit anxious. Everything was falling apart, very quickly.
He wasn't sure what to even do to get out of this.
“Oh, I think we do.” He grabbed an old looking laptop from the drawer beneath the desk, putting it on the table. Ughhhh this is bad.
“I gotta.. go.” He attempted to get up, wincing as a harsh hand grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down.
Yeah, he was definitely the yellow rabbit. The similarities are uncanny.

“You. Will stay. Right there.” He emphasized every other word. Yeah, he wasn't going to get out of this. He tensed, moving closer into himself, his knees near his chest.
The man focused on the laptop, typing something Oswald couldn't see. Every second felt like an hour, as if time was playing tricks on him.
God this was unbearable.
How on earth could this fiend find a wife and manage to have three kids who seemed happy to be alive? Something definitely wasn't right here.
The man stepped back as the camera feed began to play. Oswald felt the chair be turned around, facing the desk. He looked downwards, or at least tried to before his head was held still.

What was this guy's problem?

The man held his head still, making him watch the camera feed play. He wondered if he treated his kids this way. It wouldn't surprise him if they cut all contact with this guy. He definitely would.
He considered biting the guy, but he didn't want to stem as low as the rabbit in terms of feral attacking. It just wasn't in him. So he huffed, sucked it up, and stood still.
The feed was exactly what he expected anyway. He comes in, snoops, takes the newspaper clipping, hides in the closet. And now here they are. Watching it.
“What did you take?” His voice lost the playfulness, replacing it with a deep threatening tone. Oswald wasn't entirely surprised, merely unsure if pulling out the news article will anger him more or less.
It isn't like he grabbed something incriminating, so surely the man should just let it slide.

He pulled the paper out reluctantly, handing it over. William snatched it, scanning over it silently. After a rather tense moment of silence, that man chuckled.
“Ah. Yes. I remember this day. The first day I opened Freddy's along with Henry. You just turned nine that year.” He looked over it a few times before looking back at Oswald.
“You seemed rather indifferent about it then. Why are you so interested in this now?” Oswald knew he had to think. Fast. He needed a cover, one that wouldn't put into more trouble or seem more suspicious.
“It's.. It's just so cool-! My friends are huge fans of Freddy's and.. they sometimes don't believe me when I tell them my.. dad owns it. I was just trying to one up them. That's all. Sorry, I should've just asked.. but I was a bit scared too.” The room was silent for a moment, Oswald a bit tense.
Please work please work plea-

His thoughts were interrupted by a suddenly booming laugh.
“An Afton? Scared? Kid, you have to be messing with me. Thinking I could fall for such a blasphemous statement like that. Please.” He waved the kid off as if what he said was a joke.
Oswald was left even more confused than before.
“What?”
“I raised you. All four of you. You cannot be scared of anything. Evan might be because he's still young. But you? You're twelve. You should be old enough to grasp it by now.” He chuckled.

Well you clearly didn't do a good job then. Oswald grumbled internally.
This was getting a bit disturbing anyway.

“Uh.. ok. So. I'm good, right?” He smiled nervously, wanting out. Now.
“No.” The man lost the humor in his voice, glaring at the kid. But only slightly.
“You still broke in. But, I'll give you credit. For the most part, I didn't even know you got in. You left no messes, and mostly stayed quiet. You got something right, at least.” The man stood there, thinking for a moment. Oswald found this to be a little worrisome.
If he got grounded, he'd be monitored. If he got hit, he'd be a bit weaker. If he was put in ‘timeout’, he'd be wasting time.
Whatever the man was thinking of, it could be a bit of a setback.
Or a major one, depending on the choice.

“How about this.. Instead of punishing you- as I'm frankly not in the mood to, how about I give you a family lesson. A teaching, if you will.” The man decided on something, crossing his arms.
“Might fix that hiccup of yours. If you're gonna carry the Afton name, you must be worthy of it. You are a bundle of nerves and weakness, and we cannot have that now, can we little Ozzy?” The boy grimaced.
He didn't like the way this man was talking.
“Uh-”

“Good. It's settled. Follow me.” William, without even waiting for an answer, grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him out of the room. The man was tall, Oswald could barely touch the floor. The boy had to walk on the tips of his toes in order to have a semblance of control over his walking.
“You are much too short. I hope you grow sometime soon. Shortness is weakness.” The man hurled a rather hurtful insult without hesitation. Nor reconsideration.
It hurt a bit. Oswald always had a problem with his height.
“But I cant even control-”
“Yeah yeah yeah. I know. You always say that. Now hush.” He opened a door in the hallway, a long staircase leading straight down loomed. It was dark. Quiet.

Yeah no, not doing that.
Oswald pulled at his wrist, trying to get free. But, it didn't lead anywhere. They went down.
I'm gonna die- I'm gonna die-
Oswald was panicking, his breathing picking up a bit. This was bad. Very bad. He didn't know if he could even fight this man. This wasn't like the yellow rabbit.
He didn't like this.
They reached a cold, concrete basement. The boy could hear drips of water, probably from some broken pipe somewhere. A light from above stunned him for a moment, the flash hurting his eyes. He rubbed them with his free arm.
When he could see, he stared with a mix of emotions. Not very good emotions. In front of them stood an elevator, an old looking one.
Why did this guy have an elevator in his basement?

“Well? Shall we head down?”