It's Springtrap coming through the door as I figured. He's the only one with colorless glowing eyes.
I remember when they used to be a beautiful emerald green when I was little, but now they look as lifeless as ever. I'm not sure if I'm glad to see him or not.
At least it means I won't be slain on the spot contrary to what could have happened if the others found me here.
"You caused me quite a bit of trouble earlier. You didn't tell me your father was a cop."
Why is it every time he says something, it's either crucially important or blood chilling? My father was here and I didn't know?
How long had I been asleep and what has this monster done to him? I try demanding answers, but I only manage a gurgle and a pained whimper.
My arms struggle to push off the ground and help myself stand up, leaving the costume to shift as if it were trying to find the will to rise to its feet.
Alas, I crumble back into my stationary position.
He "humphs" a laugh and nods his head at my unsuccessful attempts. "Good, for a fleeting second, I really thought you died in there. But I'm not lying, your father was here.
Brought along the whole crew and searched this place top to bottom.
It's a blessing I'd previously cleaned the floors of your mess because he actually tried checking for a struggle and blood! Imagine! And I thought no one would miss you.
Haha, you just had to be the daughter of a police officer who's also friends with a decent detective.
I thought for sure that guy running around calling himself the manager was going to pee himself.
Oh boy, if those kids hadn't been practicing to be such 'innocent' robots for so many years, I'm sure they would have cracked!"
He finds himself in a fit of laughter before long as if he were dominating some kind of mind game against multiple people at once.
For a second, I felt a twinge of hope, a glimmer of determination like maybe they'd find me eventually and my dad would hold me the way he used to.
Then finally this sick creep could be stopped along with the animals on stage. That was before he started laughing like he's got the upper hand.
I guess there's more he has to say, cards up his nonexistent sleeve.
Finally, he settles down and I swear I can pick up internal fans running somewhere inside him. Probably cooling off his systems after such a strenuous exercise.
"You know, I've evaded the law and gotten off the hook countless times before. Your father may try extra hard to find you, but he won't especially if the Fazbear family twists his arm enough.
He won't find you."
'I've evaded the law.' Who was this guy?
He watches me eyes through the mask as I glare hatefully at him. The seething anger is enough for me to muster the strength to speak. "I hate you.
" My voice comes out hoarse and strained, but it doesn't crack.
"Many do, but that matters little. I'm not trying to gain your meaningless approval." The rabbit steps forward, closing extra space between us.
He crouches down to my slumped form and lifts the bear head off the rest of the costume, exposing my angry face.
I want to punch him especially when I can tell he'd be smiling if he weren't forced to. "Come on, Doll, you need to drink something or you'll wilt in here like a flower.
" The mascot head is tucked under his left arm as his right hand outstretches to mine. He's offering to help me up. I still can't move.
I make an angrier face at him, much to his amusement.
"Don't be such a baby. It's not that heavy. I used to parade around in these things all the time. Look, I still am." He gestures to his fairly run down Spring Bonnie costume.
But again, I don't make any inclination to move so much as a hair. This earns an eye roll and an overly dramatic sigh from him. "I didn't realize you were such a princess. Fine.
" He sets the head down, then digs me out of the suit before tossing me rather ungracefully over his shoulder. "You slept the whole day away. Must've really done a number on you.
Haha, they're closing the restaurant for a few days for 'reasons' they won't share with the public. See, even the smallest things people do can make the biggest changes.
That kid who was probably going to have a birthday party here with his friends will no longer be able to celebrate with Freddy. Look at what you did.
" His tone is laced with sarcasm and feigned scolding.
I hardly focus on anything he's saying anymore though. I drown out the rest of the golden animatronic's words and direct my attention to the three characters on stage.
They watch me as we enter the room, my heart beginning to race inside my ribs. Bonnie is still clutching his red guitar and Chica holds her cupcake, their eyes full of color.
They aren't making an attempt to chase me off, but I'm petrified nevertheless. We're halfway through the party room before Springtrap realizes I'm no longer listening to what he's saying.
He's pretty upset that I'm not giving him attention anymore.
The rabbit uses his free hand to poke at the wound on my back, stealing my focus again. With a hiss and a kick, I turn my head away from the undead band.
"Hey, haven't you been listening to me? I could have told I was some mass serial killer and you wouldn't know.
" He's connecting dots quickly and finally absolves that I've been trained on the performers rather than him. "Oh, them? They won't hurt you. Not when you're with me anyway.
See? I told you I'd save you from the monsters." Yeah, well, he failed to save me from himself and he definitely counts as one of those "monsters".
The both of us arrive in the kitchen, some place I've never been before. Spingtrap sets me down in a chair stationed by a nearby table then fetches a cup of water.
I'm not sure I want to drink anything he gives me especially from this place...When I get out, I'm never touching anything "Freddy" related ever again.
"I hope you're not to hungry. There's plenty around to scavenge for, but I'm not making you anything. You can do that yourself."
I wrap both hands around the glass, deciding I was definitely thirsty enough to drink it anyways. Even if it was from my kidnapper... The entire thing is emptied within seconds.
A few precious drops evading my mouth, now cascading down to my chin. "What, can't cook?" I don't know why I bothered replying to him, but I did anyways.
He leans an elbow on a nearby countertop and finds a suddenly interesting place on the wall to look at. Seems like he's being bashful.
What's his problem? "No, I could if that's what I wanted, but I'm not all that familiar with American measurements." If I still had water, I'd spit it out.
Really, who was this guy? That had to have been a British accent I caught yesterday before my lights got knocked out.
Where else could he have come from with an accent like that? Australia? Yeah, I don't think so. They wouldn't want to come here.
I almost laugh at him for being ashamed that he doesn't totally understand how we measure ingredients. It's not his fault. America is so weird on its own.
We measure in miles, they measure in kilometers. So what? It's not like it's a bad thing. Either way, I can't laugh because my back nearly tears wipe open again.
The pain immediately stops me and I grip the table, squinting my eyes shut as if that would put an end to the surges in my nerves.
"I didn't poison you. So, why are you doing that?" He simply watches me curiously as I pretty much die here at the table because I was going to laugh. I'm not going down like Chrysippus.
The guy that died from laughing at his own joke.
I lift a finger, telling him to wait for me to settle before speaking. "My back. It's just hurting right now."
"So? Just heal."
I whip my head around so fast to face him. Did he somehow forget what it was like being alive or something? I grit my teeth and rise to my feet.
My eyes clamp shut again as I fight the urge not to groan.
My every limb is screaming at me to sit back down, but there's no way in hell I'm doing that while this punk is degradingly calling me "princess," "weak,
" and pretty much telling me to get over everything I've endured this past twenty-four hours. Physically and mentally. "I'm going back to the Freddy costume.
I'm beginning to realize it's far greater company and more comfortable than being around you." My body trudges to the door which, by the way, I open by myself without his help.
I don't need him to carry me around or call me names. He did half of this to me to begin with.
And of course I hear his padded footsteps close behind. This only infuriates me further. He can't leave me alone for two minutes, can he? I guess he wants to make sure I can't leave.
I suppose if he felt like keeping me out of his sight, he'd probably cripple me first so that I can't get away when he isn't looking.
Better not try that unless I come up with an unbeatable plan first. I'm not the stupid main character that always attempts getting away without a plan and winds up dead or in worse condition.
I'm smarter than that. I read Nancy Drew books. "You should at least get the wound cleaned up, Doll. It'll only get infected the longer you stay in your ragged clothes and other filth."
"I can solve that problem myself. Stop calling me 'Doll.'"
"I like that name. Your face reminded me of a doll before I 'corrected it.'"
My fists clinch at my sides and I walk faster, hoping to put more distance between the animatronic and me, but he matches my pace no problem. I really do hate him.