A dark figure kneeled on a rooftop, the moonlight reflecting on visible metallic openings in his skin. The familiar dead yellow eyes stared at his arm, which had opened up some sort of compartment filled with darts. He reloaded them and the opening closed with a satisfying click. The man's name was Springtrap, or at least it now is. He was an animatronic like the bear or fox, though several gashes cut deep into him, revealing a mixture of organic organs and machinery.
His long ear twitched, the needle of the dart protruding from his wrist, turning around and pointing his arm at who, or what, was facing him.
"What the hell do you want!?" His voice was gravelly and almost synthetic, like he couldn't use his vocal chords so it was generated by something else. The masked man known only as The Marionette stood before him.
"I want to know why you came back."
"Why do you think!?"
"It's been thirty years, surprised you're just now trying to get back at him. Any particular reason..?"
The man snarled but lowered his arm a little.
"This a bad idea.." Marionette sighed, "How many Universes are you wanted in!? Take my advice and lay low dammit.. I'm not protecting you forever."
"I never asked for your protection! I don't need a kid who refuses to show his face babysitting me.. What do you even have under there that needs to be covered so badly!?"
The Marionette tensed up a little, taking a moment to respond, "That's my business. Not yours. Anyway, I don't blame you wanting revenge, what I mind is the dozens of innocents you've put in harms way and /or harmed directly to get where you are now... Is it really worth it? Isn't that what you're so mad about?"
"Listen.. I don't know who you are or how you know so much about me but keep it to yourself." He snarled, his eyes burning with an indescribable rage and desire, "I'm going to get even and NO ONE will stand in my way! He. Took. Everything. From. Me. I will not let that go. I WILL kill him. I will kill William Afton."
The weather hadn't changed in the slightest, the thunder crackling under a tall, sinister building. The red tinted windows casting a blood-like glow in the facility, a formally dressed man looked out the window, his face was stern, as If he hadn't smiled in years. His hair was a sleek, shiny jet black and his eyes were a cold light grey, almost silver. The door creaked open, a younger man stepped in, they had a striking resemblance, but the younger mans hair was a dark brown and his eyes deep blue.
"What is it, Micheal?"
The younger one, Micheal, handed him a rolled up newspaper. The mans eyes shifted towards the paper, picking It up and sitting in a dark purple velvet chair, he unfolded it and examined it, his cold and emotionless expression never changing.
"And... What's your concern with this?"
"The survivors claim it was a gold rabbit.."
"There are alot of golden rabbits.."
"They say he looks undead, grisly, half-healed wounds scarred all over him. You told me all about this... About him. Is there really any other explanation, Father?"
Michael's father took a deep breath, as if to console himself, "Its impossible. He died....." He muttered a little, "Though I guess given past experience that doesn't mean much..." He sighed, "I'll tell the security to be extra alert. Anyway.. How's Project OOS?"
A tan Hummer drove along a highway. The driver, Foxy, lifted his eyepatch up to see the road better, revealing a perfectly intact yellow eye. The passenger seat was occupied by Foxy's younger sister. Her name was Foxeta but she was far better by her public hero persona "The Mangle". Foxy looked more serious than usual, he usually made plenty of loud remarks and obnoxious jokes whenever she was around him, much to her dismay. But today he had barely spoken at all, she finally decided to say something about it, as they were still at least 20 mins away from their destination.
"You've been quiet all day... Tough case or...?"
He exhaled, running his tongue across his sharp canines, "A little more than that... There's a killer on tha' loose... But this guy... He's not like anythin' I've dealt with... The mans the most wanted on our records right now mostly on accounts o' arson or homicide, usually both. Now there's been sightin's of em' 'round here."
" "Sightings?" What is he some kind of ghost?"
"That's the thing, they call 'em "The Phantom", describin' him as a zombie-like rabbit. Probably just some madman in makeup if ye ask me."
Mangle frowned, "You got any leads?"
"Not much. Tha' guy left some kinda dart at a crime scene.. Other then that, no clue."
"I'll keep an eye out, he's gonna have some kinda hideout right?"
"Maybe..." Foxy was about to continue but he was interrupted by his phone vibrating loudly, "Oh for fucks sake.." He answered it and put it on speaker, then a nervous male voice answered.
"Hello, Hello hello? Uhh hey it's Phil....."
The voice on the phone belonged to Phil Guye, the manager of the westside Fazbears Pizzeria; a middle aged man sporting a simple business suit and red rimmed glasses. The place was bustling with police and the odd reporter, a preppy newswoman ran up to him, shoving the microphone in his face before bombarding him with questions.
"Mr. Guye!! This is the fourth incidence of suspicious or criminal activity recorded at Freddy Fazbear's, do you have anything to say about that?"
Phil brushed his hand through his black hair, his face contorted in annoyance and stress.
"For the last time, it's completely coincidental. There's no connection, there's no "Fazbear Curse" and this break in is just another unfortunate event, thats it."
"Not a break in, Phil." Foxy flashed his badge at the surrounding police, all of them letting him past the security tape and officers. He held a piece of broken glass from the glass doors with his bare Endoskeleton hand, "A break out. Tha' way tha' glass shattered couldn't be from an outside force, and judging by tha' broken wall and tha' room you oh-so-discreetly sealed up ever since a certain incident shows clear signs o' being ransacked, not to mention tha' fact nothin' o' value was taken, I'd say, yes, this IS something bigger. Write that in yer article, ma'am."
The reported quickly scribbled down her new notes as Phil stared at the fox with what could only be described as pure concealed rage. He took a deep breath as he straightened his tie.
"...Excuse me, I need to talk with Detective Fiox alone please.." He whispered in Foxy's mechanical ear, "Office. Now."
When they got to the office, Phil shut the doors and began to tell Foxy off. "What was that!? I called you to HELP me with this, not give people ANOTHER reason for an investigation!! Do you WANT this place to shut down!? Or god forbid the entire Fazbear franchise!"
The fox glared, baring his sharp teeth a little, "Considerin' Freddy WANTS this place to shut down as a matter of respect to everythin' an YOU'RE tha' one pressurin' him to keep goin', even going so far to bring Fredbear into this, Yes, I do. Yer' a lyin' snake, don' try to deny it... I know there's somethin' else goin' on here... Do ye expect everyone to forget what yer cousin did!?"
Phil went a little pale, yet at this same time his face heating up in anger. "My cousin paid for his actions. And you expect me to just give up because its "The right thing"? You're right, Foxy, I am a lying snake.. But it's my job and I'm a darn good one at that."
The fox opened the powered door as a low growl escaped his throat, leaving the office and the building. He was going to get to the bottom of this. No one could hide the truth forever, not Phil and not the corrupted company he worked for.