Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fazbear’s Frights burned. With everything else inside it, on that fine morning of 2023. The cheap place had barely passed safety standards at the funfair it was located at. Even paling in comparison to Rocket, a 360° rotating attraction.

Known for giving shorter guests heart attacks when their whole body weight would drop against the over-the-shoulder bars that were the only line of defense between the passengers and their impending fall to their deaths. (I love it tough <3)

No one had been surprised when the place had burnt to the ground before even having welcomed a single guest within its doors. Some speculated that the place had been built to crumble. But those surely had simply been unfounded rumors.

An auction had been celebrated at the funfair as a way to make up for the financial damages. Seeing as both the employee and owner of the establishment had been banished like the smoke that morning. It had been announced in the local newspaper, in case any local fanatics had wanted a piece.

Ea the Clown had been left in charge of the auction’s announcements. Meanwhile, Dorian the Mime, being mute and all had been given the task of presenting the remains they had dug up from Fazbear’s Frights to the bidding public. A public consisting mostly of aging elders with their grandkids and drunk teenagers.

So the bidding was neither going well nor high. Ea happily read the next item up for auction. But it never came. She quickly excused herself and ran towards Dorian to ask for an explanation. But all she found was a terrorized Dorian clutching his striped shirt, and pointing towards a large hole in the fabric of the “improvised storage tent”.

Ea couldn’t believe it. But it seemed like the item had picked up its arms and legs, and walked off. Panic ensued as they tried to think of a solution to not get fired. They weren’t going back to working a minimum-wage job at their uncle’s supermarket.

Their plan was decided, Dorian would distract the public while his big sister would trail after, whatever the hell her boss owned that could walk on its own. She quickly announced a break in the auction, urging the public to eat something while her little brother performed a routine. Then quickly left.

She followed the furry footsteps, asking herself if her old boss had for some reason acquired a fursuit. He wasn’t a furry? right? His hatred of costumes did not seem to align with him being a furry, but she guessed she wouldn’t judge him. Who knows? Maybe he had sought after the job of a funfair owner to buy a fursuit.

You needed a lot of money for that, didn’t you? Oh god. If her brother had lost her boss's expensive fursona to some wannabe thief... They both were at best dead, and at worst fired. Or worse, he would make her sew him a new suit. He would know she had lied in her resume about her experience as a seamstress.

She quickened her steps as it began a sudden summer pour. Now the auction would be canceled for good. She started running, attempting to outrun the now quickly muddled tracks left behind by the fursuit thief.

Her favorite attraction had always been the Magic Funhouse. But right now, she very much did not want to go in. But she had a job to do. And no one else would do it for her. She searched for the booth-man to at least ask for permission to enter or see if well, he had seen anyone enter.

But the booth had been left empty, with the door open and slightly ajar. Maybe he had already gone inside to get whatever troublemaker had gotten inside. Of course, maybe one of those drunken teens at the auction had thought up a little prank. As always, she didn’t have anything to worry about.

The first room was a welcoming one. The dozen of funky-shaped mirrors decorated the walls from bottom to ceiling and bent her in silly shapes that would often make children laugh. The 50s abominations had recently been replaced with colorful plastic frames.

Ea couldn’t help but gulp slightly at the sight of the dark corridors that awaited her further in. She had never been good with the dark. Often having to ask her little brother to get the light whenever she had woken up from a nightmare when they were little.

She had more or less grown out of it, but an unknown intruder in the dark was not helping her at all. She decided to proceed regardless. Now in a whisper town asking if someone was there, hoping she could find the booth-man inside. But she quickly stopped in favor of making sure the intruder wouldn’t hear her.

Sadly. She had already drawn something closer. And it wasn't the booth-man.

She was now in the middle room of the FunHouse. Giant mushrooms with glow-in-the-dark paint littered the room. But more alarmingly, 4 doors let the surrounding darkness peek inside it. Ea sat in the biggest mushroom, trying to remember the layout.

Some rooms were side-rooms where projections would happen. But they only had one exit. Another room, the biggest of the Funhouse, was a “Labyrinth” If you could call a twisting corridor that didn’t have any wrong paths a “Labyrinth” and a room full of hanging plush cylinders that would hit you when you traversed it.

If she remembered correctly, The cylinder room was the quickest path, as it had an emergency exit at the end of it. She finally got up and started looking into each doorway. Trying to figure out the correct way.

But she soon regretted doing so, when she let out a high-pitch scream at the sight of a man’s corpse in the Labyrinth entrance. His head had been cleanly cut off from his neck. She bolted towards the next door, now hearing heavy footsteps coming from what she assumed was the inside of the labyrinth.

She quickly entered the cylinder room. Trying to collide with as few of the plush obstacles as possible. Whatever was chasing her, didn’t seem bothered, as it marched with mechanical rhythm towards her. Not seeming to be bothered by the heavy barrier between it and its next victim.

She had started hyperventilating, as she clawed at the wall, searching for a door or handle that would let her out. But she kept hearing the footsteps grow closer. And the more she tried to claw at the wall, the more she tangled herself into the cursed attraction.

Then to her horror, she felt one of the damned things wrap around her throat. She couldn’t see the person behind her, but they kept putting pressure. Tightening and tightening, until Ea’s neck snapped in half. Her assailant dropped her corpse. Not paying attention to the empty “thud” it made when it hit the floor.

After all, He had found a perfect place to do what he loved.

Chapter Text

Isabel Prescott had turned out fine despite her father’s disappearance when she was only then. She would contain the urge to cry when her children would clamor for her to show them her now 30-year-old photo album. It was the last one where Grandpa Mars and Uncle Carl were.

Smiling and appearing in even more photos than her mother. They would often be making funny faces. Little Jimmy’s favorite was the one where Uncle Carl had stolen 6-year-old Isabel’s bike, her screaming behind the comically large man riding a bike smaller than a cupboard.

Little Beatrice on the other hand, had always loved the carnival photos. They would usually go to the local FunFair or the local museum. And to Mrs. Prescott’s irritation, dress up in the silliest pair of costumes one could think of. Of course, Always chosen by herself.

Beatrice would particularly laugh at the 2000 get-up. Where little Eleanor had gone as a princess, her uncle and dad behind her, her father dressed as a fairy godmother, and her poor uncle as an evil witch. Make-up had been done by the little 9-year-old girl.

That fateful day Lil Jimmy had begged his father to take them to the Funfair that appeared in the background of the photo. Despite having run off last time they had gone, due to being afraid of the park's clowns. He had somehow found the news about the 2014 Killer Clown Sightings and now the poor kid was terrified.

His older sister managed to convince the man. And after his morning coffee, they got in the car and drove there. Listening to “The Main 40” radio on their decade-old car from 2013. His father would always remind them how the car was older than them. Sl Robert the Volkswagen needed to be treated with the respect of an elder car.

Eventually, they arrived, And to their surprise, an auction was taking place. It appeared one of the attractions had burned down. And now they were selling the scraps. At first, their father simply told them to keep walking, but his sister had fallen in love with a small Freddy Fazbear figurine. Talking about how adorable it was.

So to Jimmy’s dismay. They would have to stay. With the clown announcers. He was surely a lucky boy. At one point the creepy clown lady left the stage. The mime started a distraction. What was she gonna do? Kill a kid?

The paranoid 10-year-old followed her. But soon it started to rain and he lost her as she started to run. He started to panic but quickly remembered what his older sister had told him. “If you ever get lost, just follow a river until you find people”. Jimmy had forgotten the crucial detail this advice was specifically about getting lost in the wilderness.

So quickly he looked for a trail of water and found the indent in the ground that led to the sewers. Following it while putting on his hoodie. He was glad he had gotten the waterproof one. Since he wanted to go into the water coaster for “The Mouse” ride.

He followed and followed. Until he heard the voice of a little girl coming from the sewers. He quickly looked towards the opening. Seeing two bright green eyes staring back at him. What was she doing there?

Concerned, He asked her if “the evil clown lady” had put her there. She responded affirmatively. The young boy quickly got on his knees, putting his arm through the entrance, telling her to grab it, so that he could save her.

Then he felt something that wasn’t a hand grab him. And pulling. Pulling with such force. It was inhumane. She kept pulling, the crab-like claw cutting into his flesh. His head barely made it through the gap, but his shoulders couldn’t. Not a problem for her. She kept pushing anyways, A crack was heard when the boy was finally pulled under the sidewalk.

The last thing poor Jimmy saw that day, had been a killer clown.

Chapter Text

Beatrice’s head was pounding. She had not noticed her lil brother had left. And now her father was shouting Jimmy’s name in desperation. They had split, trying to comb through the park's attractions and meeting spots. Trying to find little Jeremy wherever he was.

They kept ringing his phone every few steps. But it seemed to be broken. Probably the rain’s fault. She was taking care of the east side of the park, while his father looked west. But she had not found even a trace of her brother. The rain has washed the terrain. Covering everything in a layer of water and mud.

She quickly set aside the dark thought of her brother drowning in the murky waters. She had one last place to search. A place she felt highly unlikely her brother had gone into. The House of Horrors. A big Bigfoot’s maw was full of painted blood decorating the door frame. She knew her brother was a coward. But If she never looked, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

The house was just like she had imagined. A long series of hallways had been decorated to make it look like a cemetery. Filled with dim lights that barely illuminated the room. The animatronics were last century's news. Maybe one would move its head from side to side, or suddenly jolt its arm in a very unnatural motion.

She would still sometimes jump when one of the ceiling props would smack her in the face. But it wasn’t too bad. She had to keep moving forward.

The first open room was Frankenstein themed. A half-built statue of a half-built Frankenstein was laying on top of a hospital bed. Machinery, gears, and all kinds of chains and big trinkets hung from the ceiling.

The Frankenstein statue had been painted blue to evade the wrath of whatever company owned the green version of the creature. At first, she thought the clink and clunk noises were part of the atmosphere. But soon she found herself next to, what she assumed was another animatronic from the attraction.

It looked out of place. Its movements were fluid, and it seemed to have multiple joints. Its size even eclipses the blue-colored discount Frankenstein attraction. But despite probably being the most expensive animatronic in the room, it seemed to be in terrible condition. But maybe that was meant to be the point. An unfinished robot next to an unfinished man.

It was hanging from the ceiling. Moving very slowly. Most of its machinery hiding in the shadows of the other props. Beatrice guessed that it was meant to save costs by not having to cover whatever apparatus the thing had inside. Those wires didn’t seem anything like the abandoned endoskeletons at the back of the park.

She at first rounded it, ready to go into the next room. When she heard something, a child-like “hello”. Hesitant, she went back into the room. Following the noises, she kept getting closer and closer to the metal junk that had now become immobile.

The Hello stopped. Beatrice knew by now that she had gone insane. She jolted to sprint through the rest of the ride. Knowing his brother had not been there. When suddenly, the animatronic sprung to life. Grabbing her by her overalls, and lifting her, she tried to scream, but a second metallic hand grabbed itself around her throat, silencing her scream. She kicked and squirmed. But the desperate panic truly set in when she felt a prop chain being tied around her throat, squeezing harder and harder. Her movements became erratic, but the animatronic was no longer holding her. Simply watching with its yellow eye from the shadows as the life drained from her eyes.

Just like they had when the same happened to her uncle.

Chapter Text

Little lost souls. Once more alone. Once more killed by what he had done. It was as if the smell of young rotten meat would call her to these horrible places. Begging her to save them, save them from him.

They were so young too. But the vessels weren’t ideal. Barely able to move. barely able to think. No, these cheap vessels wouldn’t do. She needed something they could use. Something that could fuel them.

She watched, and a vague memory of a simple log ride surrounded by pirates appeared in her mind. Maybe the metallic pirates would turn out better than the zombies. She made her way, unnoticed as If the curtain of rain had been drawn to protect her.m

But down there, in shallow waters. Something else was waiting for her. Another one? No. It couldn’t be. But she couldn’t stop. It was as if something was calling for her. Telling her that she would be safe, in the darkness. A signal grew closer. Was it dead? alive? artificial? She couldn’t tell.

Slowly as she approached deeper, she could feel herself start to forget, forget what she was doing there. The importance of the lost souls. Why she needed to take close mind to the robotic pirates littering her sides?

But the more she approached the darkness. The more she heard it. Pop Goes the Weasel. She remembered a beautiful pink box, decorated with roses and flower-shaped silver details. She would open it, and from it, a beautiful ballerina that looked just like Mom would spin round and round.

She would always fall asleep. Unable to resist the memories of her mom flooding her mind. Calming her. Her father had used it when her mom had passed away “to a better place” he would always say. “A beautiful place, just like her”. Just for her. Just for Charlie.

Slowly she felt her body grow limp. She was so tired. So tired of this game where all she could do was pick up the broken pieces left from a monster’s rampage. Not even to fix them, but to make sure they would remain. Building them back up in a Frankenstein-like manner. Not reviving the dead. But prolonging their tortured existence as something they weren't.

She was tired of trying and failing to fix someone else's misdeeds. Just because she could do something, it didn’t mean she wanted to. She did not want to bear that responsibility anymore. She vaguely remembered a comic book character she loved who would have disagreed. “All power takes great responsibility” or something like that.

But she knew that in those fake yet fun tales. The character’s never had to deal with child murders. The Comics Code Authority deemed it too dark. And dark it was. She could feel her ghostly tears run down her face every time she found a newly broken vase, its flower wilting away. All because of him.

She just wanted to rest. To give up.To slumber for a while.

She just wanted to rest. To give up.To slumber for a while.

So she gave up. Letting the cold embrace of the darkness consume and trap her within it. Letting it lull her into a deep sleep. She would worry about it later. But right now, all she wanted was rest. All she wanted was peace. Maybe a dream? If she was fortunate enough to not conjure up a terrible nightmare.

The suit marched. She didn’t know where she didn’t care. Eventually. Much later. How long had it been? She still did not give a f*ck. All she knew was that somewhere outside, she could hear children’s laughter. Almost being able to see their radiant smile.

Not crying. Not grieving. Just pure happiness. She was afraid it wouldn’t last. The others would come. Find a way to destroy the happiness, the cheers. They would find this place of joy and recreate the hell that had already burned all the happiness these robotic entertainers had ever given.

And yet, she couldn’t move. She could only hope the others wouldn’t reach those smiles. Like they had done at the FunFair, at Freddy’s, at Baby’s & Fredbear’s.

It was inevitable. They would come here once again to watch and make dreams burn.