Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A rainy, cold night wasn't a rarity at the end of November, with the slanting jets hitting your face and trying to get down your back. The spiky wind tore the old, worn cloak of a random passerby as he hurried to get off the deserted street. A sparse street lamp, wobbling in the wind, illuminated his flickering figure.

The townspeople hid in houses with cozy lit windows and blue squares of TV screens glowing in the depths of the rooms. Behind the tightly closed windows, they can hear neither the sound of rain, nor the howling of the wind, nor the of street lamps wobbling in the wind.

In the old part of the town, which used to be lively but has now become an uptown, the most abandoned part of the city was full of old, dilapidated derelicts, visited only by town rats. A slouching shadow flashed through the window of one such building. A nervous, thin man was running and glancing around, lighting his way with a lamp with the funny, somewhat romantic name of hurricane lantern. And if you were an outside observer, you could see the man moving from one room to another, alternately appearing in the windows. As well as the fact that the man was badly frightened. His movements were nervous and jerky, as if he were panic-stricken, stumbling, fidgeting and constantly looking around. And the strangest thing that an outside observer would have noticed was the strange shadows that slowly stalked their victim. As soon as the man glimpsed through the window, turned around, holding a lantern high above his head, several massive shadows would pass in the previous one. A casual passerby would have wondered to whom those shadows might have belonged. Henry knew perfectly well to whom. He knew from the shadows which animatronics had gone for a walk around the pizzeria on this rainy night. Henry lifted the collar of his coat, sighed and clenched in his fist a beaded four-leaf clover, a brooch given by his daughter some years ago. Henry had never parted with it since, first wearing it pinned to his lapel, to Charlotte's delight, and then, when the pin broke, simply carrying it in his pocket. Henry dropped a tear, though he couldn't exclude the possibility that sadness had come over him and it was just a raindrop rolling down his cheek. He kissed his fist with the brooch, muttered “Charlie” and carefully opened the heavy creaky door. He even closed his eyes, the creaking noise grating on the ear hard. But his worry was unnecessary. The pizzeria was humming with footsteps, rumbling and scraping, so that the creak of the door was drowned in the noise.

Henry took off his glasses, hastily wiped them clean and put them back on his nose. He stood for a few seconds, adjusting from the dark streets to the even thicker darkness of the blind corridors. And straining his hearing to the utmost. Anxiety was growing like a snowball. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead from the tension. Henry moved cautiously down the corridor. He panicked, tangled in a garland of wires hanging from the ceiling. And almost fell, stepping on a flashlight that rolled under his foot. Henry felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, and his pulse was thundering, pounding against his temples. He inhaled deeply and exhaled long, calming himself. He crouched down, picked up the flashlight and flicked the switch, even though he knew it was useless. Too light, the flashlight had no batteries. Henry stood up heavily and gasped, blinded by the bright light. Crooked fingers clutched at his shoulders, the smell of burning oil hitting his nose. Henry's once best friend and like-minded partner, now the creature he most despised, hung on him on shaky legs, his eyes glowing with madness, the man reeking of alcohol. The flashlight burned through the fabric of his cloak.

“I know this is all your fault. You set a trap for me,” the man said fervently, glanced back with a haunted look, pushed Henry away and ran down the hall, waving his flashlight. Henry flew sideways, hit his back and fell into a closet. With a grunt, he got up and crouched down, covering the swinging closet doors. Bonnie walked down the hall. Yes, Bonnie, the purple rabbit, the funny pizza animatronic. Henry was testing Bonnie. Bonnie could walk around at night so his parts wouldn't rust and his settings wouldn't get messed up. But there was something odd about him. About his movements. Henry couldn't figure out what. Chica followed, puzzling Henry even more. And then there was Freddy, his favorite. Henry pondered what he didn't like about them as the whole bunch walked back. The heavy footsteps fell silent, but Henry was in no hurry to get out of his hiding place, running the animatronics' movements through his mind and checking them against the programs he had once prescribed.

A heartbreaking scream snapped him out of his musings. Forgetting his past grievances, Henry leaped out of the closet and barely had time to get back in, closing the door behind him in a split second when he heard a scraping and muttering that was recognizable as the motif of a simple melody. Foxy whirled past the closet. And Henry furrowed his brow. Foxy increased his speed. Henry certainly hadn't prescribed speed for him. No, he didn't.

The scream changed tones, tore at his soul and fell silent. Henry scolded himself, even using profanity. But he didn't dare come out. He sensed danger with either his sixth sense, his spinal cord, or his rear. And his instincts didn't fail him. The golden animatronic Freddy, the problematic Fredbear, the first try so to speak, who had given Henry a lot of trouble, so Henry was glad that William had taken Fredbear for revision. And this Fredbear walked slowly, stopped, turned his head toward Henry as if he could see through the closet doors, mechanical eyes flashing red. Henry's heart leapt into his throat. Golden snorted, quite bear-like, but with an added note of contempt, and went on his way. Henry fell out of the closet and hurried on rubbery legs toward the source of the scream, which had gone silent.

Henry knew where to run when he smelled smoke. The broken door hung on a damaged hinge, and Henry struggled to push it aside. He squeezed his way into the room. A broken lantern let out a flame, and cheerful blaze licked the floor and crept lazily up the shelving.

Golden Bonnie sat with his rabbit ears drooping and moaned. Recalling the days of the first animatronics acting as costumes and requiring operators. Recalling how he himself had climbed into Fredbear and rejoiced when he got out unharmed.

“Wearing the suit again? You're too drunk to…” Henry's words stuck in his throat, his foot his foot sliding on the slippery, sticky blood, a huge puddle spreading out from under Spring Bonnie, who had become Springtrap again.

“The locks snapped.” Henry was pulling levers, yanking mechanisms, the old animatronic wouldn't budge. Springtrap was breathing heavily, convulsive and choppy. The wheezing breath didn't promise anything good. Henry gave up; he raised a heavy metal hand. “William, can you hear me? What can I do? What? William! Do you hear me?”

Henry's voice floated, cracked, twisted. And annoyed. William breathed. Through the pain, exerting tremendous effort. Inhale, exhale, inhale, then raise the hand and the lever. Exhale, inhale… Inhale failed, his mind darkened. Through the blurry glass of his eyes, Henry turned into a shapeless mass, a blur. Sticky as blood, but somehow green. His voice tore through the silence. William wished he would shut up. He wanted to scream, but his tongue wouldn't obey. There wasn't enough air. William moved his fingers, trying to squeeze Henry's hand. The animatronic's heavy hand wouldn't obey, wouldn't respond. Then something weird happened. The hand, breaking all the laws of the physical world known to William, broke free from its iron fetters, flew above the golden plating, and, obeying William's will, tried to catch Henry's hand in the air, but failed. He dropped his hand tiredly. A hand squeezed William’s palm. Not Henry's. Much smaller and more graceful than his old friend's hand.

“Hello, Dad.”

Michael was squatting. Across from the Golden Bonnie, henceforth forever Springtrap.

The broken lantern, the spilled oil, the room on fire. And Henry in the doorway. The dancing lights reflected in his glasses. And the sad face of a son who lost his laughter at his brother's last birthday party.

“Michael?”

“You didn't know I died, did you?” For a second, a teenage defiance flashed across Michael's sad face.

“I didn't,” William said hoarsely. “How long ago?”

“A long time,” Michael smirked. “In 87. At the birthday party.”

“That's when…” William swallowed hard, searching for words. “That's when Evan died.”

“Both of your sons died at that party.” Michael darkened, closing his eyes as if an unbearable pain suddenly struck him. “My body died later.” And vanished into thin air.

“Michael?” William tried to get up, to free himself from his dead body. To get away, to fly. But he couldn't. Not on the second try, not on the third, not on the twentieth. “Springtrap,” William said bitterly, left in his mangled body and the animatronic that had killed him.

Chapter Text

The phone was ringing for a while, and the favorite melody began to annoy. A pretty boy in trendy clothes, who could well be called metrosexual, didn't pick up the screaming phone for a long time. The tune went silent only to start up again with renewed vigor. The boy, who was hardly recognizable as a former theater kid, rolled his eyes and didn't immediately dare to look at the screen, gathering his composure.

“Okay, Preston, you know what to do if…” He exhaled. And pressed accept call.

“Hey, kid, mega good morning!” the receiver said cheerfully. “The Quartermaster had picked up almost everyone. There's only two stops left.”

“Okay.”

“And the whole old gang's back together! Are you in position?”

“Yeah. David, why couldn't he pick me up from the center? Why do I have to wait for him here? On a dusty street! In front of some diner! Why not downtown, David? Whyyy?”

“Because the Quartermaster can't be allowed on crowded streets. Okay, Preston, half an hour, and the bus will be there. And in a couple hours, I'll be hugging you. Love you, kid.”

“Yuck!” Preston had a look on his face as if he were going to throw up. “I'm sure Max had already escaped,” Preston grumbled, imagining Max's reaction to the counselor's rant. “Half an hour,” Preston drawled capriciously, shoved his phone deeper into his pocket and dropped his backpack on the huge window ledge. “Why am I even going to that camp?”

“Hmm,” he hummed with interest and leaned against the glass. The diner was set up in a mixed style: modernity with an 80's vibe. Neat tables, arcade machines, a bright, glowing stage with robotic musicians. “Better than hanging on the street.” Preston slung the weighty backpack on his back again and headed toward the entrance. “‘Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza – ground floor.’ Creativity is at zero! Like, “Breakfast at Aunt Dolly's.”

Taking one of the cozy tables, Preston ordered, managing to argue with the waiter about the fact that he didn't need a whole pizza, just one slice. The boy didn't win the argument and now he was looking around while waiting for the pizza. The hall was full of kids of all ages, who literally stuck to the arcades and kept the four robotic musicians busy. Parents were lazily sipping their morning coffee, watching their children. Judy was keeping order. Preston chuckled. That's right, Judy. The guard was in a bunny suit, over which she wore a vest with guard chevrons and a walkie-talkie attached.

The flavorful pizza with its heavy smell and greasy sauce wouldn't go down, so Preston capriciously closed the box, left his backpack and pizza at his table, and went to explore the place while sipping his soda. The attractions didn't impress Preston, he reasonably remarked that he'd just grown up, five years too late. The old Preston would have been thrilled with everything, but especially the stage. So bright and shiny. With those unrealistically cool animatronic musicians. He stopped beside the musicians, shiny modern made animatronics. The mechanized bear's face showed the kind of emotion one might see on the face of the frontman of a more or less decent band. The chicken's jumps and gestures reminded Preston of a couple of girls he knew who were obsessed with fitness and bodybuilding. And the crocodile waved his long-snouted jaw from side to side like a skilled rocker. Preston hummed, jerked his phone out of his pocket, tossed it up, caught it, sipped his soda and, interrupting a sexy wolf's play, unceremoniously got between her and the keytar and took a selfie. And another, now with pouty lips.

“No!” the wolf barked in his ear, and Preston stunned, opening his mouth. “I look better from this angle.” And, picking up the shrieking boy, she moved him to the other side of her, then placed her elbow on his shoulder. “Come on!” said the wolf, never stopping smiling. “Take a picture!”

Preston swallowed hard. “Wow.” He touched the wolf's nose. “It's soft.”

“How long do I have to wait?” the wolf said in displeasure. “I'm in the middle of the show, you know.”

Preston didn't have to be persuaded; he nodded and turned on the camera. Preston took picture after picture. The wolf willingly posed, as most girls do. Preston snapped fifty shots of her in various poses, and by the end, it was nothing but clowning around. The boy was hugging her, faking a kiss, jumping into her arms, putting his head in her mouth.

“Cool!” Preston shook the wolf's paw, not surprised that the mechanized marvel responded by squeezing his hand lightly.

“Run,” the wolf said suddenly. “Run as fast as you can!” And went back to playing the keytar. Preston opened his eyes wide. He backed away, wrinkling his nose. The wolf nodded, raised her eyebrows and grimaced, giving him signs he didn't understand. He flew off the stage down the steps and nearly hit a man, somehow miraculously managing to stop. The security guard's stripes caught his eye.

“Sir, you should delete the unauthorized photos–”

“Why is that? On what grounds?” Preston turned his nose up in the air. “This is a public entertainment facility. I'm authorized to take pictures.”

“Taking pictures is in the price list,” the guard said. “And at certain times. You're not allowed up on the stage.”

“Greedy capitalists. It's in the price list,” Preston snarled and walked past with a businesslike air.

“Sir.” Judy kept up with him. “Your pictures–”

Preston sped up, doing his best to ignore the pursuit. A boy of about ten or twelve ran past him, almost knocking him down, slid across the floor, ducked under a table and in a few seconds was on the stage.

“Gregory!!! I can't handle that obnoxious kid,” the guard grumbled, turning her attention from Preston to the new intruder. Preston watched for a while as the animatronic frontman stepped off the stage, opened his arms, and “obnoxious Gregory” jumped into them. Judy flew toward them at full sail.

Preston didn't wait for the story to unfold, he patted his stomach, deciding he could use a bite of pizza now, and returned to the table. Preston gasped, nearly dropping the soda can. The pizza box was open, more than half of the pizza was gone. Preston furrowed his brow, the table was definitely his, even the familiar backpack on the chair. Preston exhaled, there was a big guy sitting at his table eating his pizza. The big guy turned around and stretched his lips in a happy smile.

“Hey, Preston! Do you want some pizza?” Satisfied Nurf licked his greasy fingers. There was no doubt it was Nurf. Same freckled, round face, hair sticking up like a tuft of straw. Obviously, Nurf had grown up. It's been five years, after all. He'd put on weight. Preston slid his gaze over his figure: biceps and triceps on his arms, much broader shoulders, clearly worked out chest. Except that muscular chest went to a rounded, fleshy belly.

“Of course I do. That's why I ordered it.” Preston closed the box and moved it away from the uninvited guest, which didn't help. As Preston settled back into his seat, Nurf snatched another slice. “Nurf, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Living.”

“What the hell are you doing at my table? And why the hell are you eating my pizza?” Preston sighed and took the last, lonely slice from the box.

“Well, I don't think you could handle it yourself.” Nurf wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It wouldn't fit inside you.”

“It's not for you to judge whether it will or won't fit in me,” Preston growled and took a bite.

Nurf folded his hands on the table and licked his sauce-covered lips.

“Don't you dare say anything dirty, you hear me? Nurf, are you stalking me?”

“No, pretty boy, this was a lovely surprise.” Nurf beckoned him with his finger and winked. “Turns out we're neighbors.”

“I'm thrilled.” Preston pulled back and threw one leg over the other. “So why the hell are you in my town?”

“I moved.”

“I wish a streetcar had moved over you. Several times. That's bullshit!”

“Ha-ha. I feel like you don't like me.”

“Probably the memories of our summer together are still fresh. I'm surprised you're not in jail.”

“I was. That's why I moved here, actually. My beloved uncle bailed me out.”

Preston made a sarcastic face. “Beloved? You don't love anyone, Nurf.”

Preston's phone bubbled, blue lights running along the side edges. Preston tapped the screen, a comment popped up under the posted forbidden photo shoot with the hastily made up title, “Me and the hot wolf babe.” Preston gloomed, his face darkening momentarily.

“So that's how depressed you are! Lying bitch!” a brooding, long-haired guy with the nickname “AnOwlWithACollider” wrote.

“Asshole,” Preston spat out.

Nurf turned the screen toward himself. “What does this guy think of himself?”

“It's nothing,” Preston didn't look up. The boy's lips were trembling.

“No, seriously.”

“Forget it. I'm going to throw him in the blacklist.” Preston reached for his phone.

“You can do it later.” Nurf grabbed the phone and poked at the screen, leaving greasy fingerprints.

“Give me the phone!” Preston flushed and stood up.

“Why are you so nervous? Who is it?”

“My boyfriend.” Preston sat down again. With a rather doomed look.

“Your boyfriend's got a lot of nerve. Dump him.”

“I already did. We broke up. Freak! Fucking junkie.”

Nurf stretched his lips in a smile. “Who hasn't tried drugs?”

“I haven't. And I don't want to. It's not fun.” Preston sobbed. “It's not fun to see your boyfriend lying there puking. It's not fun to drive across town at night to identify a dead body and hope it's not him. I've been there twice.”

“You'll be lucky the third time.” Nurf winked. Preston tensed; a beeping sound came to his ears. The phone in Nurf's clutches was calling someone. Nurf looked at the screen, smoothed his disheveled hair and instantly gave himself a menacing look. “Hello. Hey, freak, switch to video! Preston, who's that faggot calling you? Oh, right! I'm calling him. Preston, I don't get it. What ‘kitten’ am I calling? Who's the fucking ‘kitten’ in your contacts? Hey, kitten, did my boyfriend tell you what I do with kittens?”

“That's not something to be proud of Nurf,” Preston muttered with pale lips.

“I promised you after that incident that I wouldn't touch ordinary kittens, but I'm going to shark fishing for that ‘kitten’. Preston, where does he live? Preston!”

The phone answered with short beeps.

“Preston, he blacklisted us. Isn't he a dick? Preston, what's wrong? Are you mad?”

“What were you doing with kittens?”

“With a kitten. At camp, remember?”

“Yeah, and I'd like to know what you did with it.”

“I was young and stupid.”

“You were drowning the cat.”

“No. It was the simple logic of an ordinary child. I throw the cat in the water, and the cat catches fish with its paws. I pull them both out. That cat was a bad hunter.”

“Motherfucker!”

The last piece of pizza flew into Nurf.

“Preston, come on.” Pouting Nurf sat with the pizza stuck to him for a few seconds before it slid off and flopped onto the table. Frowning, Nurf wiped the sauce off his face with napkins.

“It wouldn't occur to a normal kid to drown a cat. You were a freaky kid, and now you're totally fucked up.”

“That's jumping to conclusions. By the way, the cat survived.”

“The cat survived because of Harrison.”

“What does Harrison have to do with it? What difference does it make because of what? Hey, Preston.” Nurf licked his lips. “You can save every animal in this world. From me.”

“How?”

“One kiss.”

“Fucking shit.”

“I guess you don't like them that much.”

“Listen up, Nurf, I'm sick of you and the way you're trying to get me laid–”

“Speaking of laying. Remember when the platypus laid eggs? We were partners back in the day.”

Preston exhaled. “We lost the platypus egg.”

“We were good parents. Such a nice married couple…”

“I don't even have words.”

“Me neither.”

“Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!!

“Sir, this is a children's place! You're using profanity!”

Preston blushed and dropped his eyes. Judy stood at the table.

“Why the fuck would we use profanity?” Nurf crumpled up a dirty napkin and threw it on the table. “Who are you, exactly?

“Vanessa Shelly, Pizzaplex security.” Judy poked at her patch. “And you, sir, are a PNG.”

“What?” Nurf scratched the back of his head.

“Persona non grata. You've had…” she pulled a tablet from an inside pocket and flipped through a few pages, “seventy-eight cases of disorderly conduct.” Vanessa showed Nurf the screen from which his, Nurf's, picture was looking at him. “If you don't leave, I'm calling the police. And you, sir, have already violated the rules of the establishment twice. I warn you. One more and you'll be on the list, too.”

“Like Gregory?” Preston sniffled.

“Exactly.” Vanessa put the tablet away.

“What's the complaint, lady?” Nurf drummed his fingers on the table. “We're sitting here quietly, eating some pizza.”

“Someone else's pizza. Like you always do. And cursing profanities all over a room full of kids. What's the problem?” She leaned over to Nurf.

“It's not allowed?” He rounded his eyes.

“It's not.”

Huffing, Nurf stood up and slung his bag on his shoulder. “Let's go, Preston. It's not allowed to swear. But it's allowed to kill children. How many bodies do you have in your basements?”

“Come on.” Preston shoved him in the back. Nurf assumed a dignified air and headed for the exit with a resentful but proud look. Accompanied by Vanessa. The sliding doors slid open, and at the same moment a cacophony, a mix of sharp, deafening sounds, struck the customers of the Pizzaplex. Brakes squealing, women screaming, swearing in Spanish, the sound of broken glass.

“It's for us.” Nurf smiled broadly, adjusted his backpack, turned around and saluted stunned Vanessa.

An old bus that had been through a lot, rumbling like a bucket of nuts, slowed down at the entrance to the Pizzaplex, exhaled a cloud of smog, snorted and fell silent. The bus doors opened and Neil, lanky and skinny, fell out. The poor guy threw up under the bus. Neil stood up, wiped his glasses and complained to Nurf and Preston, “Fuck, I wish I'd walked on foot. My parents signed this hell of a contract for a discount, and that's a fucking small price to pay for this torture.”

Nikki showed up on the stairs, still awkward and with a mop of unruly hair. “Preston! Nurf!” She waved cheerfully.

“Me-me-mmm, you freaks,” the Quartermaster said behind her back.

“Everyone get on the bus,” Nikki translated, and Neil rolled his eyes and then strode to the bus with the most doomed look possible.

The bus sped off, almost went sideways on a curve, and rolled down a strange road. Strange because the bus was shaking like a ship in a five-point pitching.

“Is– Is t-the rrroad t-that b-bad?” Nerris was bouncing on the seat. “Or is the Quartermaster getting old?”

“Maybe he can't see well,” Ered added, clinging to the seat.

Neil was cursing nonstop, and Nikki was trying to group herself at every jerk. And only Space Kid, beyond the earthly laws of physics, was running down the aisle and defying the overload with a sharp brake and an equally sharp jerk. Neil exhaled, clutched the back of the front folding seat with his hands and tried to look through the dusty, hazy glass at the terrain that was responsible for such an uncomfortable ride. He regretted it when he hit the glass with his forehead. The bus braked sharply, swerving before it did. Neil spat out all the vocabulary his mother had forbidden him, Nikki flew off the seat with a loud “Ouch!”, Ered fell out into the aisle, Space Kid stretched out on the floor with his hands over his head, and Nurf bumped into Preston and pinned him to the seat with his body.

“Fuck, Nurf, don't tell me it wasn't you, but the bus.”

“Of course it was the bus,” Nurf panted.

With the fresh air, Max appeared on the bus.

“Holy shit, Max isn't wearing a hoodie,” Neil said, glancing at the grown-up boy.

“Holy shit, it's you again. I was hoping not to see you. It's easier for you.” He nodded to Neil. “You take off your glasses, and voila, you're alone. These two are already fucking. Couldn't wait till camp.” Max walked past Nurf's protruding legs. “It's gonna be such a fucking fun summer. Space Kid? I don't recognize you without a fish tank on your head.”

“Get off me.” Preston kicked Nurf in the stomach; Nurf grunted and struggled to get out into the aisle.

“Max!” Nikki jumped on Max's back, just like a dog. “You've gotten so hot. Girls must be chasing you.” She patted the boy's muscular chest hidden by the tight T-shirt.

“Yeeeah, Nikki, let me go. One girl is definitely chasing me.” The bus sped off, and Nikki squeezed into Max. “Hey, Quartermaster, let me drive.”

“Me-me-mmm. Shut your mouth. Me-me-mmm.”

“Me-me-me,” Max mocked him. “I couldn't make out a single fucking word. Did the squirrels steal your jaw?” He walked lazily past on the bus. Harrison sat by the window, behind the noisy group of the campers. Quiet and sad.

Harrison lowered his gaze, looked up with a flutter of his eyelashes, and smiled. “Hi, Max. Charming as always, I see.”

“What did you expect? They're good old friends of mine after all.” Max threw his backpack on the shelf and dropped noisily down beside the boy. “What's up?”

Harrison bit the edge of his lip, smiled confusedly and opened his mouth slightly. But he didn't get a chance to answer.

“So what's with the scary murder stories? Nurf!” went through the bus.

Max peeked out from behind the front seat. Preston got his knees on the seat and leaned against the backrest, which he actually regretted immediately. The bus jumped, and Preston jumped with it, hitting his head on the shelf and then his jaw on the seat.

“Scary stories for little kids. About kids.” Nurf made an unsuccessful attempt to sit beside him. “You live here. How could you not know? It's a cursed pizzeria. About fifty kids have been killed there. Two mad scientists created killer animatronics. Robots grabbed kids and killed them. You know how?” Nurf leaned over. “They had teeth and claws like daggers. And tear through the flesh of their victims.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Nurf?” Preston scratched his bruised chin.

“Even the children of those scientists fell victim. That's right.” Nurf managed to move the boy. Satisfied, he sat down and picked his teeth. “They'd sicced those terminators even on their own kids.”

“What animatronics? The ones on stage?”

“No, those are machines, and the killer ones had demons inside. They say they still walk around the basement every night.”

“I'll Google it.” Preston sank into his phone, long thin fingers running across the screen. “He's lying!” Preston announced happily. “No, he's not. No, he is.”

Max craned his neck. “What does it say?”

“It says: there's been a lot of gruesome murders… Wow, it's really haunted.”

“I bet that shit was made up by the owners. Like our Campbell.” Max leaned back in his chair. “So, what's up, Harrison? How's your year been? What's new in the last five years?”

“Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?” Neil's face appeared between the front seats.

“I don't want to hear a boring story.”

“What if it's not boring?”

“I don't think so.”

“I lost my house in a poker game.”

“You think you can impress me with that?” Max curled his lips in a grin. Neil's face disappeared.

“Guys!” Nikki's high-pitched voice overrode the roar of the old bus engine. “Why are we getting together in five years?”

“Harrison.” Max leaned toward the boy. “How are your parents?”

“I have no idea.” Harrison turned away to the window, only his brown hair spilling over his shoulders.

Max was silent for a few seconds; Neil's eye appeared between the front seats. Max grimaced, cleared his throat and put on an indifferent frown. “Where do you live?”

“In a boarding school.” Harrison sighed. “For special kids.”

“In a nuthouse or something?” Neil appeared above the seats. “Not surprised. Maaagic.”

“Neil, shut up!” Max barked.

“Hey!” Harrison turned around sharply. “It's not a nuthouse.” Harrison's long finger flicked upward. “Not exactly…” He cast a wary glance at Max. “Not exactly a nuthouse. It's a boarding school for special kids. Like me.”

“What scares me is that it's ‘not exactly a nuthouse’.” Neil adjusted his glasses businesslike, which had fallen off when the bus turn. “It should have been ‘absolutely not a nuthouse’. Did they make you play chess, take tests, swallow pills, and lock you in your room at night?”

Harrison sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping if under an unbearable burden.

“They give you pills? Do you take them?” Max asked quietly.

“No, of course not. I'm throwing them away.”

“Bloody bastards! I'd like to burn them down with that fucking nuthouse. Really, let's do it! Or we could put them in that nuthouse.” He nodded at the bus cabin. “They're more insane than you are.”

“I beg your pardon?” Neil gripped the backrest and held on. Pine trees flashed past the windows.

“To hell with them. I'm not coming back anyway.” Harrison smiled lightly, and Max noticed that the sparkles in his eyes had faded. He also realized that Harrison was dressed in uniform school clothes. “I passed all their tests with flying colors. All that's missing is a good recommendation on my social adaptation.” He rolled his eyes. “For that, I'm counting on David.”

“Oh, David will give a good one, the best one.” Nikki appeared next to Neil. “You'll be a saint on his recommendation. We all will. Even Max.” Max snorted. “Guys, I don't see Dolph.” Nikki twirled her head around. “Have we forgotten Dolph?”

“He's sitting over there.” Nerris waved her off. “At the back of the bus.”

“Dolph, why don't you say something?” Ered stood up, looking for the boy.

“What am I supposed to talk to inferior races about?” came a voice from somewhere in the cabin.

“What do my ears hear?” Neil went over Nikki. “There's a pure-blooded Aryan among us. We'll give him a nice little thrashing.”

Neil walked down the aisle of the bus with the gait of a bully cat.

“Get away from me!” Dolph shrieked.

“Where did you pick that up?”

“Get two meters away from me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

The argument turned into a noisy scuffle.

“Nerris, fireball them.”

“Fireball or firewall?”

“As if you could do any of that. Why so glum?” Max raised an eyebrow. “Have you finally realized that D&D tricks don't work in the real world? Even Santa doesn't exist, can you believe it?”

“Purebloods traveling on the roof of the bus!” shouted Neil at the top of his voice. The scream was drowned out by an electrical crackle. Noise, rumbling… And silence.

“Interesting.” Max leaned over the armrest. Visibly shabby Neil was returning to his seat. He fixed his glasses, climbed over Nikki, opened the window, let a cloud of dust into the cabin, threw out an oblong object and closed the window.

“That bitch tasered me. Oh, fuck. It left a mark. You're gonna pay me dearly for that mark!”

“All right, Neil, how'd you lose the apartment?” Max was still glancing back. Defeated Dolph never came.

“Dad talked me into it. He said I'm really smart. So I calculated all the poker moves. What I didn't realize was that the casino always wins. All because of her mom.” He nodded at Nikki. “Dad wanted to impress her. And now we live in an impressive trailer.”

“It's really impressive. Right, Nikki?”

Nikki snorted.

“What's the matter?” Neil squinted at her.

“I'm sick of those ‘dads’. She's living with a real creep now. He's fucked up. He's on a schedule, everything's on the clock. But at least he doesn't hit or harass me.”

“Guys, it's vacation,” Ered made herself comfortable in the chair, “let's forget about all the problems and relax.”

“Yeah, let's forget that Preston is a junkie's whore.” Nurf laughed loudly and insolently.

“Oh, you… You…” Preston choked with indignation. “And Nurf went to jail!”

“Yeeeah,” Nurf drawled contentedly.

“Guys, let's leave our troubles in town!” Ered raised her voice.

“Oh, it's the camp.” Nerris leaned against the glass. The others followed her example, trying to make out Camp Camp through the hazy glass.

“Hey, Harrison, you're not a psycho.” Max elbowed the boy. “I've met psychos. I can't stand them. But you, you don't make me want to throw you out the window.”

“That's strange, Max. But sometimes I think it's true.”

“Of course you do. You've been told every day that you're special.” Max made quotation marks with his fingers. “Haven't you? At that boarding school.”

Harrison smirked and patted the boy's thigh. “Thanks, Max.”

“Oh, jeez, Harrison, why don't you just say ‘fuck off, Max’? I feel weird.”

The brakes squealed. Max slammed into the seat in front of him. A fallen backpack hit him hard on the back of his head. Harrison gasped and pressed him down. Seats, bags, floor, someone's feet, Nikki's hair… When Max looked up, everyone was just lying around. Only Space Kid stood proudly with his hands on his waist.

“Don't say a word.” Max stood up and shook off his jeans. “I still think you're a jerk.”

The door opened noisily.

“Me-me-mmm, freaks, me-me-mmm!”

David jumped with excitement when he heard the puffing roar of an engine. The camp had grown tremendously, and the small camp lost in the woods had been replaced by a modern complex. In keeping with the old tradition, David hadn't asked Mr. Campbell about the funds for this camp, nor about the director's other scams. And he greeted enthusiastically the announcement that this summer he, David, was the superintendent and all the counselors were under his command. Except for Gwen, who flatly refused to obey her coworker. In addition, this summer is an innovation – a trial squad with a special program. And not just any squad, but one made up of the old campers.

The rumble was getting closer. It mingled with the sound of wind in the crowns of tall trees, the squabbling of birds, the distant waterfall and the restless, jolly hum of camp life.

“I'll go.” Gwen rolled her eyes.

“No, no, no. Imagine how happy the kids will be.” David looked dreamily at the road. “You and me, their old counselors, meeting them. Hugs and happy smiles.” He inhaled deeply the heady air of the pine forest.

“I can already picture it,” Gwen said gloomily. “The happy faces of those kids.”

“I know they're grown-ups,” David persisted, though Gwen didn't ask. “Nurf is 21. But let the kids have a memorable, happy, wonderful summer.” He sobbed. “At least a summer. Poor kids. Nurf did time. Two months, but in jail. Harrison's parents put him in a nuthouse. Why would they do that to the kid…? I mean, he's got his quirks, but still… Dolph's dad went on trial for Nazism. Preston got involved with a junkie. And Space Kid… Kids at school are bullying him for wearing the helmet. It's all stupid astronaut training on his uncle's stupid system. Ered's parents are going through a rough patch. Cheating, scandals, tantrums. She's in therapy. And Nerris' parents are both addicted to D&D. Neil's dad is a gambler, and Nikki's mom is… well, busy with her personal life. And Max's parents forgot his son's name. His dad is the mayor of the town, a responsible man, but he forgot his son…”

“David, you can't work with people with your attitude. Your heart can't handle it.”

“It can, Gwen, it can.”

“You know what I'll tell you? One of these kids could stab you, another one could set you on fire, and a third one could put you on trial. And they all have an ace up their sleeve. Did you know Dolph is coming with a taser? He put it on the Internet.”

“The boy's afraid of bears, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.”

The bus, covered in road dust, darted out from behind a wall of trees, braked sharply, raising a thick dust cloud, exhaled and stalled. The doors parted.

David rushed to the entrance, his arms open, ready to receive the first. The first was the Quartermaster, and David barely had time to jump aside.

“Me-me-mmm, I wish squirrels me-me-me you all.”

With his hands behind his back, the Quartermaster disappeared into the woods, apparently taking a circuitous route to his room, ignoring the main entrance.

“David!” Nikki shrieked. The girl's disheveled head peeked out of the bus.

“Nikki!” David opened his arms again. A backpack flew out of the bus, plopping onto the ground. And Nikki jumped out at the counselor, miraculously not knocking him down.

“You got hot.”

“Jeez, Nikki.” Scowling Max squinted against the bright sun. “Hormonal boom hit you hard.”

“Max!” David squeezed the boy's shoulders and mussed his curly hair.

“Are you going to pinch their cheeks now?” Gwen rolled her eyes.

“Or better yet, take my dick behind your cheek,” Max grumbled. Harrison's eyes widened.

“Not even my ex said things like that.” Preston rubbed his chin. “And he was a real asshole.”

“I'm concerned about the word ‘even’,” Neil added.

“Welcome to the camp, kids,” Gwen said indifferently, with memorized phrases. “Now we'll take you to the block–”

“Which will be your home for the whole summer!” David interjected.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “And we'll introduce you to your counselors.”

“What?” Nurf furrowed his brow. “What about him?” The boy pointed a meaty finger in David's direction. “I promise not to hurt him.”

“No, kids, I'm the superintendent.” David sighed in a doomed and quite believable way. “I promise to check on you every spare minute.”

“You're Squad 51,” Gwen finished.

“You have 51 squads?” Neil shaded his eyes with his palms, looking at the camp, which was enclosed from the forest by a high fence.

“No, 8, but your counselor wanted 51. He doesn't like 8.”

“Are you sure it's not David?” Neil furrowed his brow.

“Nooo,” Max drawled, “David likes everything. Why 51?”

“Like Area 51. Pretty cool, huh?”

Everyone turned around.

“Your counselor!” David excitedly introduced.

“Pikeman?!” everyone exhaled in one breath. Max turned darker than a storm cloud.

“Pikeman got hot,” Nikki added, eyeing her old acquaintance openly. Pikeman had gotten taller and broader in the shoulders. Plus the guy had gotten rid of pimples – his trademark of the past years. Complementing the new image of the former camper was a military posture and bearing.

Pikeman stood with his hands behind his back in a khaki-colored uniform.

“Why the fuck is he” Max shot Pikeman an unkind look, “our counselor?”

Neil pulled a pile of documents out of his shoulder bag and flipped through them with the look of a clerk.

“Small print,” Neil said and sighed doomedly. “Look at the contract. Our parents signed a deal with the devil.”

“I bet mine didn't even look at what they signed.” Max's gaze grew even angrier. “Snake?”

“Second counselor,” David announced cheerfully. “We have a trial squad. With military training. Only one squad has been formed this summer, and if the former Wood Scouts do well, next summer,” David savored every word, ”all interested kids can join the military squad of Mr. Campbell's camp.”

“I doubt there will be any,” Max said.

“Great,” Pikeman blurted out. “The greeting is over.” He nodded discreetly to Snake.

“Yep.” Snake took out a clipboard from under his arm and checked the box with a pencil.

“Now let's go to the camp, Snake will show you our block.”

“Follow me.” Snake strode toward the entrance. The frowning campers went after him.

“Squad 51's block is separate so we won't be distracted by the other kids. With their dances and swings and idleness.” Pikeman paced behind the group. “Hi.” He caught up with Ered. “How old are you? Are you of legal age? Do you want to drink wine with me?”

“I guess so, but I need to ask someone.” The girl didn't stop, just tossed back her long, inky black hair that contrasted with the whiteness of her bare shoulders.

“Who, sweetie?”

“My dads.”

“I don't quite get it.”

“I was adopted by two dads. They work for the FBI, by the way.”

“I've never been discouraged like that before.” Pikeman lagged behind, glancing longingly at the girl's figure.

“All FBI guys are faggots,” Dolph said without turning around. “My dad said so.”

“Do you have two dads, too?” Pikeman stared thoughtfully ahead. Dolph sighed. “Wow, did I get that right? Why are you sighing?”

“I'm regretting that Neil threw away my taser.”

“You don't need a taser against bears,” Pikeman said instructively and expertly pulled a spray can out of his pocket. “I recommend it.”

“Thanks,” Dolph grabbed the can and sprayed it into Pikeman's eyes before he could turn away. The odor of the disgusting mixture wafted through the air, making the campers' eyes sting and water. Pikeman went blotchy and was soon the color of an overripe cherry.

“That's right.” Pikeman blinked hard and backed away, leaving the affected area. “Do that when you see a bear. Snake, give this one a ‘Protect Camp from Bear’ patch. First patch.” The counselor put his hand on Dolph's shoulder. Snake slapped a circle with a picture of a bound bear on Dolph's chest.

Dolph wrinkled his nose. “I have only one dad. Remember this.” He spat angrily at Pikeman's feet, stuffed the can deep into his pants pockets and hurried after the campers. He caught up with them in the main square. The boys were standing at the flagpole, a flag fluttering above the camp. Children of all ages were running around, and a cheerful song was playing from the loudspeakers.

Preston folded his arms across his chest and watched the kids with a wistfully nostalgic look. A faint smile touched his lips. Harrison looked into his face and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“That was our old scene, remember?” Preston waved his hand theatrically.

“Everyone remembers your performances. Mine, too.”

“Good memories.” Preston sighed.

“Mine are bad,” Neil grumbled.

“I wore a lovely jabot and played on stage. Played on stage.” He bit the corner of his lip.

“Your plays sucked,” Harrison said, “but I liked them.”

Preston grinned bitterly. “I once dreamed of being an actor, dreamed about it night and day, and then I put that nonsense out of my mind. How could I be an actor? And now I remembered the times when I was a good actor for myself.” He went forward.

“And I was once a brilliant magician” Harrison walked on slowly.

There was laughter on the playground, irritating squeaks from the unlubricated swings, and shouts from the counselors. The path led past the pool, an open pool of muddy water.

“Platypus?” Neil took off his glasses, wiped them clean and put them back on his nose. The platypus noticed the boy, too, and swam toward him, cutting the water surface with its flat beak. “It remembers me calling it a whore.” Neil backed away and raced toward the tree, the flippers slapping loudly behind him. Neil tried unsuccessfully to climb up the smooth tree trunk.

“After a week of practice you will be able to do this,” shouted Pikeman.

“It's useless!” shouted Nikki. “Platypuses climb trees, and they're also vindictive.”

“That was reassuring.” Neil turned around and pressed his back into the tree. “What do I do?”

“Two options.” Pikeman glared at the approaching platypus. “Either fight it to the death or ignore it. The first option does you no honor. Your opponent is old and infirm–”

“Reeeally?” Neil drawled and stepped away from the tree. “The fucking old man can live.”

The group moved on. With Snake at the head. Neil was a little ahead of him, but the rest of the group took their time, looking at the camp that had changed in five years. The procession was closed by the aged platypus.

“I'm not even surprised,” Max commented, noticing a skewed wooden structure with “51” boldly written in white chalk on the door.

“Barracks conditions,” said Pikeman. “No comfort at all.”

Creaky porch steps led to rooms with equally creaky floors.

“Miracle didn't happen.” Max unloaded his backpack onto a long wooden table that took up almost the entire room, and looked around. The dining room was joined by three identical bedrooms, all without doors. “What about a shower? A toilet? Privacy?”

“Lake, forest, not allowed,” Snake replied.

“Take the rooms.” Pikeman sat down at the table and took out his iPhone, stroked it lovingly, carefully straightened the packing film that had started to peel off, took a selfie, posted it and plunged into the alluring world of social media.

Max rolled his eyes and moved his backpack from the table to the wooden bed. Harrison stared sadly out the window, skewed and pane-less.

“The scenery sucks,” Max grumbled. A solid wall of trees lined up outside the window.

“And it's blowing,” Neil complained.

“No more than it does in the trailer. You're used to it.” Max stretched out on the bed, throwing his sneakered feet on the low footboard.

“I think the Aryan should sleep by the window.” Neil glanced around glumly. Dolph set the spray can defiantly on the bedside table, and Neil, grumbling to himself, set his bag on the unwanted spot. “I hope platypuses don't climb through windows.” He looked sorrowfully at the gaping hole just above his bed.

“It's the girls' room!” Nerris put her hands on the doorframe and tried to block Nurf's way. But she failed. The big guy swept the human barrier away and sat down on the nearest bed.

“It's all taken,” Ered hovered over him.

“How?” Nurf sprawled out. “There are three of you, and four beds. No math skills, huh? So back off, Batgirl. Hey, Galadrel, open the window.” Nurf threw a pillow at Nerris. “And you uncut sheep, did you unpack the bag?”

“Who? Me?” Nikki was unpacking her stuff, just shoving it into the nightstand.

“Who else?” Nurf snorted and stuck to his phone, which made him laugh. Loud and annoying. Ered kicked the foot of his bed angrily and went back to her own business.

“Yes,” Nikki said uncertainly, looked around and shoved her empty backpack under the bed, “I did.”

“I don't see it.” Nurf looked out from behind the phone and threw his backpack off the bed. “Unpack it!”

“Why should she?” Ered turned around.

“To make this room peaceful and neighborly.” Nurf laughed loudly again, staring at his phone.

“So, who are the lucky ones? Who's lucky enough to live with the counselors?” Pikeman appeared on the doorstep of the room. “My stomach is as empty as a recruit's head.” He patted his stomach. There will be a cake on the occasion of your arrival.” He winked at Space Kid and sat on the windowsill. The water surface of the forest lake shimmered outside the window. “Quartermaster baked it himself.”

“What? Are you kidding?” Preston tilted his head.

“You're kidding, sir,” Pikeman corrected him. “And salute. Show some honor.”

“Too late. Already dishonored.” Preston snorted derisively and set his hip aside. Pikeman felt embarrassed and pulled down the collar of his shirt, then undid the button.

“Okay, it's not necessary.” He glanced outside the window, smirking at his thoughts. A pack of kids was having fun on the shore, and the counselor in a bikini lazily relaxed in a chaise lounge. “So, little one,” he winked at Space Kid, “have you ever groped girls?”

Space Kid dropped the pillow, blushed and embarrassed looked away. Preston rolled his eyes. Pikeman followed the counselor with his eyes until she was out of sight.

“This place is a hot spot, counselors are lush. Have you seen Gwen? Oh, she has such a nice butt!”

Space Kid didn't know where to hide his gaze.

“Nice?” Preston snorted. “It's pretty ordinary.”

“Agree.” Pikeman made finger guns. “Sasha has better. She's a passionate girl, I'll tell you that. The Flower Scouts are a whorehouse for all tastes. And their principal is a hot babe. She's weird, though. She offered to sit on my face. And I knocked her out.” Pikeman cringed. “All right, recruits, that's enough stories for you.” The counselor slapped his knees. “I'll check on Snake.”

“First of all, Neal, Dolph is not a Gestapo agent. That's physically impossible. Secondly, I'm not Harry Potter and I don't consider myself the chosen one. Original, yeah. And…” Harrison turned to Max. “Max, are you really showing off to impress me, to…” He cleared his throat. “Neil said that. No, Neil, not out loud.”

“What the hell?” Neil's eyes seemed to get bigger than his glasses.

“What?”

“People don't do that. You're a human. So act human!” Neil's nostrils were flared.

“I only answered you.”

“I didn't ask you anything!”

“You didn't ask out loud!”

“Stay out of my head!”

“You were mentally talking to me, Max and Dolph.” Harrison shrugged. “You insulted us. I reserve the right to respond.”

“No shit! Quit your tricks!”

“If I have wings, why shouldn't I fly?”

“Because you live among the non-flying, bitch!”

“Neil!” Max barked.

“What?”

“What were you thinking about me?”

Neil lowered his gaze.

“And get the fuck away from him.” Max lifted himself up on the bed. “I'm gonna act human and just punch you.”

“Are you gonna fight? We're in a human society, use your words.”

“I'm fucking sick of you making conditions. No magic, no fighting. Why the fuck are you in charge?” Frowning, Max got up from his bed.

“Magic doesn't exist in nature!” Offended, Neil stormed out of the room.

“What a jerk.” Harrison glared at his back. “He thinks it's cheating and I shouldn't make things easier for myself.”

“Why the fuck shouldn't you? I'm going to make things easier on myself, too, and punch Neil because I'm stronger.”

“That's interesting.” Preston peeked into the room. “Our Max is defending someone. Took Harrison under your wing, huh?”

“And you wanted me to take you, bitch?” Max's lips curved into a smirk. “What are you doing here?”

“Celebration dinner.” The boy nodded behind himself. “But there's Gwen, and Pikeman has turned on alpha mode.”

“Is everything all right here?” Gwen moved away from Pikeman.

“Sure,” Pikeman said in a low voice. “Will you stay for lunch? Or better yet, dinner. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Gwen rolled her eyes.

“So, Gwen, what do you think of this?”

“Get on with the squad.” Gwen headed for the exit.

 Pikeman blocked her way. “You write fanfics, but you don't want to be a heroine.”

“You're not a fanfic hero yourself.”

“Why not?” Pikeman leaned in close to Gwen's ear. “In fact, I'm a vampire. I'm gonna drink your juices tonight. I'll sneak into your bedroom through the window as soon as the moon rises.”

Gwen fluttered her eyelashes, a shadow of interest in her gaze.

“What the fuck?! Celebration dinner, Pikeman?!”

The campers surrounded the table, and Pikeman didn't immediately notice the cause of the outrage. Max stepped aside, and the camp counselor's gaze fell upon the cake. A spoiled, lopsided cake. Bitten off the side and eaten out of the center.

“It's all the platypus,” Neil said expertly. “I can tell by the size of the jaw.”

“Nah. It's Nurf's jaw,” Preston leaned over the cake, examining a large piece that had been torn off or bitten off.

“Uh, Gwen, so what about…” Pikeman turned around, but the girl was gone.

A low dome of stars covered the camp, and silence fell over the sleeping land. The campfire crackled merrily as the campers gathered around it. Max watched the dancing flames and wondered if he was ready for a military camp. He turned around. Harrison was sitting on the porch of the scout building, staring at the stars uninterruptedly. A happy smile played on the boy's lips. Max's heart ached. He stood up, tossed some twigs into the fire and retreated to the porch.

“Max?” Harrison flinched startled, not immediately noticing the boy.

“Haven't seen the stars in a while?” Max was picking at the ground with the toe of his shoe.

“In a long time.” Harrison nodded. “I really missed them.”

Max sank down on the step. Harrison moved over, and the two boys sat silently looking at the starry bridge.

“I've been thinking… Harrison, can you make the campfire burn the block?”

“Easily.”

“Cool.”

“My parents don't think so.” Harrison interlocked his fingers. His hands were trembling slightly.

Max covered his hands with his palm. “Tell me.”

Harrison sighed. “I was always scaring them. It was my last Christmas at home. Mom was making dinner and Dad and I went shopping for presents. All I said was that we don't have to buy a present for Grandma.”

“Why not?” Max squinted at him.

“Because she wouldn't need it.” Harrison shrugged. “Dad was picking out a wreath and didn't pay attention to me.”

“What kind of wreath? The Merry Christmas one?”

Harrison nodded.

“Did you say it should say ‘Rest In Peace’ instead?”

“Max.” Harrison turned his face to Max. “Now this situation doesn't seem so terrible to me. Can you believe it's been plaguing me for five years?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dad picked out a gift for me and Mom and all the other relatives. And Grandma. ‘It's a waste,’ I said. ‘Stop it.’ Dad got angry. We drove home. I froze, so I was warming up in the kitchen, sitting on a low stool by the oven and drinking hot tea. Mom pulled out the turkey and told me to put plates on the table. The guests would be here soon and we'd have fun. ‘We won't,’ I said. I drank my tea. Dad came into the kitchen. Pale. He looked at me unkindly and told us that Grandma had died. As if it was my fault. In the morning, they sent me to boarding school.”

“They just sent you away? And didn't even talk to you?” Max stared at a distant twinkling star.

“Yeah. Except for Dad yelling at the house while I was locked in my room. About the fire popping up out of nowhere, about my brother disappearing, and so many other things.”

Preston looked over his shoulder at Max and Harrison, long and intently. Afterward, he wrapped himself tighter in the plaid and rested his chin on his knees. “Max will have a summer romance and I won't?”

“You will.” Nurf elbowed him in the side.

“God forbid if it's with you.” Preston recoiled.

“Have you thought this through?” Nurf clenched his fists and played with his muscles, winking at Preston.

“Oh, Nurf–”

“Fuck!” Neil grimaced. “My eyes. That's disgusting. Please someone just kill me!”

Dolph stood up abruptly.

“Sit back down!” Neil shrieked. “It's a figure of speech.”

“Too bad.” Dolph sank obediently onto the log.

“Preeeston.” Nurf moved closer to the boy.

“Okay, we'll overlook your fat belly. And your equally fat ass. And thighs. Muscular chest and arms.” Preston poked Nurf in the chest. “Do I have a kink for chest?” He tapped his lips with his finger. “No, I got a kink for money.”

“And where is Pikeman?” Space Kid spoke up.

“Gone on business,” Snake answered reluctantly. “To give a report to the boss.”

“His boss is tough.” Preston chuckled.

“Why?” Snake looked up.

“He took a pack of condoms with him.”

Space Kid wrapped his arms around his knees and swayed.

“Hey, what's the matter with you?” Nikki touched his shoulder.

“David is the boss,” Space Kid whimpered.

“It's time for you to grow up,” Nikki said sympathetically.

“I don't want to,” Space Kid whimpered even more.

“You're not five years old.” Ered frowned.

“Life is scarier than D&D.” Nerris sighed.

“Oh, yeah,” Nurf purred contentedly. “Life is scary. And the pizzeria is terrifying.”

“It's time for scary stories!” Nikki shrieked. “Spooky and creepy ones.” She clenched her fists.

“Please no.” Space Kid blinked a lot.

“Chicken.” Nurf grimaced. “They don't take chickens to be astronauts.”

“Agree.” Ered nodded. “Space Kid, there are many dangers in space, extraterrestrial races, extreme situations.”

“I will not be an astronaut in any case.” Space Kid turned away. “I'm afraid of speed. And heights. And confined spaces.”

“You're a shitty astronaut.” Neil snorted. “I don't want to upset you, but you'd better change your dream before it's too late.”

Space Kid sobbed.

“Are there going to be scary stories or not?” Preston couldn't stand it.

“There will be.” Nurf went bug-eyed. “That was a long time ago. Before you were even born. In a scary town, in a pizzeria, two scary men arrived. Sophisticated killers, evil incarnate. After their arrival, children in the town began to disappear, and no one knew it was because of the pizzeria. The cheerful animatronics were actually killing machines. They hunted down kids, killed them and hid the bodies inside themselves.”

“It would stink up the whole pizzeria.” Neil couldn't believe it.

“It's a boring story.” Preston brushed it off.

“It's not. A boy was coming home from school when a man ran up to him and said that the boy was in danger. He was hunted by an animatronic. Suddenly an iron bear appeared. The stomping of its feet made the ground shake, and the boy ran away. He heard terrible screams behind him and was afraid to look back. He ran and ran. And when he got tired, he hid. He crawled behind a dumpster. An iron bear walked past him followed by a bloody streak. The bear stopped and stared at the dumpster. And the boy realized that the bear saw him. He jumped and ran. He reached a pay phone and, sobbing, called home. The boy's heart grew cold. The phone was answered by a metallic voice…”

Nurf gesticulated, and all the campers sitting around the campfire kept their frightened eyes on the boy.

“And in the second part, the iron bear was protecting the boy from the liquid bear.” Max stood over Nurf. “Snake!” Max shot a glance, and Snake's face turned wistfully sad. “So, from tomorrow on, we'll be living like prisoners. Right?” Max pushed Snake with his knee. Snake nodded reluctantly. “Military bearing? Like in an army? How much free time are we going to have?”

Snake didn't answer. Staring silently at the flames of the campfire.

“Snake!” Max pushed Snake with his knee again. “Are we going to have free time?”

Snake shook his head negatively. Max stood for a second, then walked swiftly toward the block.

“Max, where are you going?” Preston jumped up.

“To get my backpack. I'm outta here.”

“There's a security system here.” Snake got up.

“You?” Max smirked.

“You're really going to the block. Like everyone else. It's bedtime!”

Max didn't move.

“Bedtime! Go to bed.” Snake gritted his teeth.

“Yeah, right away.”

“Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be.” Snake reached for his belt, gasped and collapsed into Max's arms. Behind him, Dolph rubbed the rib of his palm.

“What have you done?” Nerris clutched her cheeks. “We'll get punished!”

“Somebody shut her up.” Dolf brushed her off. “North is that way.” He pointed in the direction.

“I'm more interested in where the bus is.” Max laid Snake down on the grass. “I don't want to wander through the woods.”

“Are you gonna steal the bus again?” Nikki shifted from foot to foot with impatience. “I'm coming with you!”

“Oh, no.” Neil rolled his eyes. “Again?”

“I'm not dragging you with me.” Max pulled down his T-shirt. “I'm not dragging anyone.”

“Are you running away again?” Harrison approached quietly, like a cat.

“Oh.” Max took a moment to pull himself together. “No, we'll go out for the night and come back. You should stay. You know, the recommendations…”

“Let's go out to that pizzeria.” Preston was inspired.

“Not a bad idea, actually,” Max hummed.

“It is bad.” Nurf pondered. “They really did find a boy dead. Near a broken animatronic. After that, the pizzeria was closed. For a long time.”

“Better than staying with the Wood Scouts,” Max snorted.

The flames of the fire flickered behind the trees and served as a beacon to Pikeman.

“Bitch! Fuck you!” Pikeman cursed. He kicked a cone angrily, and it rolled noisily across the pine floor that covered the ground. “What an ungrateful bitch.”

He stepped out of the woods. There was no one in the clearing by the block, only a fire crackling merrily. Pikeman shook his head, deciding to give Snake a thrashing for the unextinguished flames, and walked into the block. It was silent. No one in sight, only a sprawled out platypus snoring on a table. Pikeman jumped out and tripped over his deputy.

“Snake, are you sleeping? Where is everyone? Snake, you're a counselor. You're shouldn't sleep.” He fell silent and strained his hearing. The engine of an old bus roared in the distance. Swearing, Pikeman sprinted toward the sound.

Nurf rummaged through the front panel, made a neckerchief out of a cloth and spoke into an empty beer can, “Ladies and gentlemen, our crew welcomes you aboard our cruise ship. To the right you can see a wonderful coniferous forest, and if Neil opens the window, you may smell the lovely pine sceeeeent.”

The bus braked sharply. Nurf squealed wildly, dwelling the “scent”.

“Max!!!” Nurf slammed into the windshield and squealed with renewed vigor. The headlights snatched up Pikeman's pale face.

“What happened?” Ered craned her neck.

Fingers squeezed through the closed doors of the bus; the doors wouldn't budge. The girls squealed. With noise and cursing, Pikeman burst onto the bus.

“Fuck!” The counselor patted his pockets. “That raccoon had stolen my phone. That was pathetic! You should have faced me!” he yelled through the closed door. “Where in the world am I going to look for it? For that raccoon. Fuck! I haven't even started paying off the loan on that phone!” Pikeman turned around, as if he'd come to his senses. “So, yooou,” he pointed his finger at each of them. “You're going back. Now.”

“We're fucking not.” Max pushed the pedal all the way down. The bus jerked and sped down the forest road.

“We're going to the pizzeria to party!” Nikki jumped up. “And we're not coming back until we've had some fun.”

Pikeman's eye began to twitch. He clutched his head with his hands. “My career is over.”

“Don't exaggerate.” Preston put a hand on his shoulder. “No one will ever know.”

“Officially, we have a battle march,” Dolph sat down next to the counselor. “First training mission.”

🍕 🍕 🍕

A nervous, antsy security guard paced from corner to corner. He clutched his head, pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, took one out with shaky hands and tried to light it. It failed, his hands shook frantically and the broken cigarette flew to the floor.

“How?” the guard asked himself with whitened lips. “When?”

He replayed such recent events again and again, and thought over and over again how it could have been avoided.

“How had he gotten in? That kid.”

A boy in a hoodie, dressed too lightly for the cold night, had appeared suddenly. He popped up on one of the cameras. And the guard couldn't believe his eyes: how the boy could have gotten this far unnoticed. The boy pulled down his hood, froze in the middle of the hall, shook his head and walked swiftly. Toward the animatronics. The guard's heart stiffened with cold. He took a few seconds, two or three, to gather his courage. Like before plunging into icy water. The main hall, about twenty seconds of fast running. The guard exhaled. He'd have to get out there, to them. He grabbed the flashlight and the ridiculous mask and stood up. The boy pulled the curtain open and climbed onto the catwalk. A scream hit his ears. It wasn't the boy screaming. No, it was the guard, deafening himself with his own scream.

“Ralph!”

The guard turned around. “I don't know. He seemed to know the blind spots. It said, ‘Out of Order’. But he still went up there–”

“It wasn't your fault. What's his condition?”

“Terrible,” Ralph said faintly. “Even his own mother wouldn't recognize him now.”

“A bite? Again.” The board representative, at least that's what Ralph thought, sighed. “It's time to wrap this up. Too many incidents, not counting those fanatics setting fire to our pizzeria. Take that one out quietly, clean up the bloody puddle, get all the animatronics the fuck down to the basement. Shut it down, dismantle them. Sell the whole damn place!”

Late at night, the city sleeps soundly. And the bustle of the pizzeria went unnoticed. Until morning, the lights were on and silhouettes flickered in the windows.

Only one observer watched carefully with tired eyes, watched vigilantly, tiredly wrapping his arms around the thin trunk of a dry tree.

He saw the director arrive, and he saw him leave. Saw the staff flock in. He'd even seen Henry the technician drive up in an old Peugeot. He saw a van pull up, and then a dead body covered with a blood-soaked sheet had been carried past him on a stretcher. A teenager, judging by the dangling arm in a purple red pullover or hoodie. The watcher took cover in the shade of a tree and remained unseen. He watched the van drive away, taking the body in the purple red hoodie. Watched as the staff scurried around until morning, and as they went home. Watched the security guard smoked, sitting on the doorstep. Just as the guard stepped inside, the thin, hunched figure of the watcher hurried out of his hiding place.

Ralph froze, closing the door, and then swung it open again, looking out. A man in a worn black suit, slightly tinged with purple, was hurrying down the street. Dressed rather lightly for the weather.

Chapter Text

Pikeman's pale face, twisted with anger, disappeared in one window of the old bus and appeared in another. Judging by his facial expressions, Pikeman was begging, threatening, crying. He pounded his fists on the window, banged on the door, firmly blocked by the campers, and finally gave up and sat sadly in the front seat, staring longingly through the cloudy glass at the burning lights of the pizzeria.

The night breeze was pleasantly cold on his skin, the air was filled with the appetizing smell of baked food, and the neon lights set the mood for fun. Max shoved his hands deep into his pockets and slouched down. The town buzzed and blazed with the lights of buildings and advertisements, cars whizzed by, and teenagers huddled around the entrance laughed. And above it all was a starry sky.

“Max!”

The boy turned around. Harrison's hair glowed purple in the neon light. The boy was shifting from foot to foot, embarrassed for some reason.

“Are you coming? We got pizza.” Harrison shrugged. It was obvious the boy was making an effort, pushing the embarrassment away with each passing second.

“What's the rush? There's nothing to do there.”

“I've never been to a pizza place,” Harrison said quietly. “To be honest, I've barely been anywhere at all.”

“You didn't miss a thing.”

“You think so? Max,” Harrison opened his eyes wide at the sudden realization, “you forgot how to feel joy. You were more lively five years ago.”

“What am I supposed to feel joy about? Pizza? Dolls? This crummy diner?”

“Music and friends.” Harrison tossed back his hair, gathering his courage, and blurted out, “Me, finally. Why not? We haven't hung out for five–”

Max snorted again. “I'll feel joy if you leave me alone. Get lost, Harrison. Pizza's waiting for you–”

“Hey, guys, look how cool she is! Isn't she awesome?”

Harrison turned around, his face flushing. The sliding doors froze. Satisfied Preston put an elbow on the animatronic wolf. The neon lights of the sign illuminated the pair in different colors. Harrison examined the wolf from all angles. “She's beautiful.”

The animatronic flicked back her silver hair with the typical girlish gesture and smiled dazzlingly.

“Should I be happy with that toy, Harrison?” Max shouted.

“Her company is more pleasant than yours,” Harrison blurted out and bit the tip of his lip.

“What's wrong, boys?” Preston furrowed his brow. “Let's have some fun.”

“Fun? I didn't know fun meant acting like freaks.” Max's eyes burned with a mocking glint.

“Hmph.” Preston cleared his ear defiantly. “Did you just call us freaks?”

“Freaks. Do you prefer ‘jerks’?”

“Let's go, Harrison.” Preston straightened up.

“For a moment I forgot it's… Max.” Harrison didn't look at Max. His gaze wandered around the windows of the Pizzaplex. “You're walking on the edge, Max,” he added quietly.

“Hey.” Preston took the animatronic by the arm, studiously ignoring Max's presence behind his back. “What's your relationship with the moon? Do you ever want to howl at it?”

Harrison smiled, turning his attention to Preston and the wolf. Anger and resentment boiled in his chest, rushing his blood.

“Animatronics are not allowed outside! An angry guard in a sexy, tight bunny suit jumped out the door like Jack out of a box. “Roxy, get back inside! And you, sir,” she pursed her lips and pulled out a clipboard from behind her belt with a businesslike look, “you have a warning. Though I'm not surprised, your friend has a terrible reputation–”

“No, no, no!” Preston put his hands on his waist. “No! Nurf is not my friend!”

“Hey lady, what's with the animal abuse?” Harrison stood behind Preston's shoulder.

“Right,” Preston agreed.

“It's an animatronic.” The guard looked over the clipboard.

“Animatronic abuse,” Harrison corrected himself.

“There's no such clause,” the guard mumbled and led the wolf away. With a sad look, Preston watched the animatronic return to the podium. With a wagging gait that made her tail sway from side to side.

Max curled his lips in a sarcastic sneer, but the boys didn't notice it. The sliding door closed behind them, as if a neon monster had swallowed them up and mingled them in its maw with the other visitors to a catchy tune. Max frowned and kicked a rock with the toe of his shoe.

“Jerks,” Max muttered under his breath. The hood flew off his head, and the cold wind crept down his neck. He felt uncomfortable and dreary. “Jerks,” Max repeated.

The boy hung around the pizza place aimlessly for a few more minutes. Ten or twenty. Or maybe half an hour. No one called Max inside anymore. Having enjoyed the loneliness and the sight of the miserable Pikeman in the empty bus, Max went to the entrance.

The hall that opened to his view was full of people. Max looked carefully for familiar faces of the campers among waiters and children scurrying about.

“Sure.” He snorted, the stern wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothing out. Right by the podium, with four brightly colored animatronics performing disco, Neil and Nikki were lounging at a table littered with a mountain of empty pizza boxes, engrossed in a sedate conversation.

Nikki perked up and jumped up as the boy quietly approached. “Max!”

“Amazing powers of observation,” Max grumbled, climbing up to the table.

“Help yourself.” Nikki slid the boy a pizza in a box.

“Even so?” Max raised his eyebrows and opened the lid. “It must be bad. I bet it's pineapple.”

“Give it back.” Neil snorted and reached for the box. “We're not going to persuade such an ungrateful…”

“Finish it.” Max narrowed his eyes.

“Bitch.”

“That's what I expected.” Max pushed the box, and it opened, pizza spilling out onto Neil. “Enjoy your meal.”

“You…!” Cursing, Neil began to wipe the grease stains off his pants with napkins. “You're totally fucked up.”

“Max, why?” Nikki shifted her confused gaze from Neil to Max. The disco music changed to light jazz and stopped deafening. The silver-haired wolf came down from the podium and, her tail slapping against her thighs, made her way to the nearest table. She bypassed Neil, winked at Nikki and quickly and deftly hung a sign around Max's neck that read, “Requires tuning. Keep away.”

“What the fuck is that?” Max worked his jaws.”

“That way everyone would know to keep their distance with you.” The animatronic's brightly painted claw touched the tip of the boy's nose. Max wanted to rip the sign off, but the string didn't break, just pressed painfully into the skin of his neck. Max pulled it off over his head and threw it at Roxy's feet.

“What a wonderful sight.” Neil stretched his lips in a grin. “Max got bullied by robots.” Roxy turned around and, wagging her tail from side to side, headed toward a group of kids who were already taking pictures with another animatronic, a pink and white chick.

“Robots can bully?” Nikki leaned back in her chair, looking at the pizzeria's main mascot, a resplendent bear with a bow tie, who was currently showing off on stage with a microphone in his hand.

“Only when they become self-aware,” Neil said with a smart look.

“Stupid dolls just follow programs, and you're as much a scientist as that green-tailed shit is an artificial intelligence.” Max nodded at the animatronic crocodile, mechanically playing the guitar with an indifferent look.

“That's not cool, man. Not cool at all.” The crocodile shook his long face.

“Stupid dolls?” Neil wiped his glasses with his sleeve and looked closely at the pair of animatronics that continued their “live” performance. “I bet they're artificial intelligence.”

“Didn't poker teach you anything? He's betting.” Max got out from behind the table and walked up to the podium. The bear good-natured look bowed his head and politely backed away. The crocodile with the bright red mohawk pulled a string and the guitar howled shrilly. Max frowned and kicked him in the leg. “Artificial intelligence! It's just a stupid programmed tin can.”

“That's not cool.” The animatronic moved to the back of the stage, away from the troublemaker.

“No, it's still artificial intelligence,” Neil said thoughtfully. “He avoids conflict situations.”

“By your logic, a stone is also intelligent.” Max threw up his hands.

“Artificial intelligence.” A boy of about twelve appeared out of nowhere, jumped onto the podium and hugged the bear. “Self-learning AI. With a best friend function. Hi, Freddie.”

The metal-and-plastic arms wrapped around the boy, the animatronic bear closed his eyes and purred. The boy pressed his cheek against the shiny hull with a genuinely happy look.

“And Monty's just tired.” The boy didn't leave the bear's side.

“That's interesting.” Neil folded his arms across his chest. “I'd like to study this artificial intelligence, do a Turing test.”

“You can't do that, Neil.” Max watched skeptically as the boy climbed onto Freddy's shoulder. “To study artificial intelligence, you have to have your own intelligence, and you don't have it.”

“Did you test me or what?” Neil even gritted his teeth.

“I don't need to.” Max grinned wickedly.

“Are you ready for a machine uprising?” Ignoring her friends' squabble, Nikki bent over the high podium to the crocodile. The animatronic kept to the back of the stage. “Can you kill a human? You have perfect claws for it.”

“My model is fixed and perfectly safe,” the crocodile replied calmly.

“Fixed? What was wrong with the previous model?” Neil also bent over the podium, while sticking his tongue out at Max.

“Could the previous ones have killed a human?” Nikki didn't let him answer the previous question. Monty twirled his long, toothy muzzle around in confusion.

“They could,” answered the boy hanging off Freddy's arm. “And they did.”

“Really?” Nikki thought for a moment and turned around. “So there was already a machine uprising?” She tapped her lips with her finger.

The boy jumped off the animatronic, Freddy jerked and spread his arms, backing the kid up.

“One dark night,” the boy sat on the edge of the stage, “some jerk peeked behind the curtain of glitchy Foxy. In the morning, they found the jerk with his belly ripped open. Blood was all over the room. The next night, Foxy stepped off his podium. And started wandering the dark halls, looking for his next victim. And you can't run away from him. There's no escaping Foxy. Anyone who meets Foxy in a dark hall ends up dead.”

“Where's Foxy now?” Nikki rounded her eyes. Not out of horror, but more out of curiosity.

“The old models are out of reach,” the crocodile said and stepped back further, almost to the wall.

“Yeah, sure. Out of reach.” The boy snorted. “In the basement. And at night they walk the halls.”

“They're not functional.” The crocodile shifted from foot to foot on the spot.

“Maybe, but.” The boy raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Functional or not. They are possessed by the ghosts of the people killed there.”

“Ghosts?” Neil fixed his glasses. “That's nonsense.”

“Check it out for yourself.” The boy took offense. “Go to the basement.”

“I'll walk you there,” Dolph said in Neil's ear.

Neil jumped up. “Where did you come from? Ahem… Walk me? You? Me? It's your tricks again?”

“The old models were flawed. That will never happen with the new models. The new ones will never hurt a human,” the crocodile said automatically and bowed for some reason.

“Now it's getting scary, Bishop.” Neil narrowed his eyes.

“I'm Monty.” The crocodile straightened up proudly. “The coolest guitar player in the world.”

“You're not raising xenomorphs in your basement, are you, non-Bishop?” The crocodile twirled his spiky head and struck the strings again. Freddy turned to him and sang a minor song into the microphone in a low, velvety voice.

As night approached, the atmosphere at Pizzaplex was changing. There were hardly any kids left, and the place was taking on an adult format.

Preston put his hands on his hips and jerked his chin up. “Nurf, you have to buy us more cocktails.” He turned the glass upside down defiantly, and the last drop slowly rolled down its side and onto the floor.

“I don't have any money.” Nurf furrowed his brow and snorted.

“Then the poor Nurfs should be outside staring through the window, not partying with us.”

“I'll have to go to the store again.” Nurf sighed. “I almost got caught last time.”

“But you didn't.” Preston brushed it off. “‘Almost’ doesn't count. Go, Nurf, go.”

Harrison leaned against the wall, watching the boys. Over and over again he tried to distract himself from his sad thoughts. Preston's cheerful chatter and hot drinks helped, but they couldn't distract him completely.

“Good boy,” Preston said as he watched Nurf walk away and turned to Harrison. “Sad again?”

Harrison silently poured the rest of the cocktail into himself and set the glass on a table. Preston put his arm around the boy's shoulders.

“Pose, pretty boy.” And took a selfie, then winked at a guy passing by. The guy stopped, smiled hesitantly and walked on, glancing back at the boys.

“That's lewd and lascivious behavior.” Nerris folded her arms across her chest and looked at Preston disapprovingly. “Obviously, you'll end up on some moth's leash. But you might get the charlatan involved, too.”

“What? What moth?” Preston put his phone away.

“The pimp in the red coat.*”

“What are you talking about?”

“You'll be doing porn twenty-five hours a day.” Nerris lowered her voice. “Maybe with him.” She nodded at Harrison.

“There are no 25 hours in a day.”

“Not on earth. It's hellish hours.”

“Hey, Frodo, does Gandalf let you hang out in other fandoms?” Preston was pleased to see that Nerris was embarrassed and looked downcast. “Nerris, go see if Ered reflects in a mirror. Or if the Millennium Falcon has come for Space Kid. Come on, come on, get out of here!”

Nerris snorted, turned around and, putting her hands behind her back, strode slowly down the hall.

“So I'm a charlatan,” Harrison said, glaring at the girl's back. The boy's gaze turned cold, his lips stretching into a thin line. Nerris shrieked and stopped abruptly, the girl's sparse pigtails flying upward as she was thrown backward. She grabbed her head and turned around. And a targeted a teenage boy passing by. Preston laughed as he watched a fight between Nerris and the tall guy who frankly didn't understand why that strange girl was picking on him.

“Cool!” Preston clapped Harrison on the shoulder. “Talent! X-Man! How? Did you practice? Was it hard?”

Harrison shook his head negatively. “It's hard to control emotions.” And pursed his lips again. “Max. That asshole!”

“Hey, hey.” Preston put his arm around his shoulders.

“We were looking at the stars together. He was holding my hand. It wasn't me who took his hand, Preston. He took mine. He asked me questions and was so understanding. And now? Bipolar asshole! I'm gonna go and tell him everything I think about him! I'm gonna pour wine in his scowling face and say, ‘You're a bitch, Max.’”

“Okay, Harrison, that's enough wine for tonight.” Preston narrowed his eyes; Nurf was sneaking across the hall. “I shouldn't have sent Nurf for more.”

Harrison grinned wickedly.

“One more warning, Gregory.” Vanessa spun around, this time the boy slipped away. “Gregory? Unruly Gregory, the top of the top.”

Vanessa was angry, but the only thing she could do was write a new remark on the boy's card. Her finger poked in the air. Vanessa's eyes widened: the tablet had just dissolved in her hands. A second ago, she had pulled out her work tablet, but now it was gone. Vanessa craned her neck, peering over the heads of the darting kids for the insidious thief, and exhaled noisily. The redheaded troublemaker. Nurf's massive butt loomed in front of her, and behind his belt was her, the pizzeria guard's, tablet. She worked her jaws, anger boiling up, stirring her blood and tensing her muscles. Vanessa shook with rage.

“Sir, freeze!!!”

Nurf stood still, not turning around. He was frantically thinking of what to do.

“Shit,” he said cursed quietly, clutching the two glasses to his chest. And rushed across the room, spilling the cocktails.

Harrison hid a smile.

“Space Kid, give the boy the pistol.” Nerris pulled Space Kid, Space Kid pulled the laser tag pistol, the pistol was pulled by a boy about six or seven years old, and the boy was pulled by his portly mother. The boy was yelling at the top of his voice, as capricious pre-schoolers usually do.

“I first took it.” Space Kid didn't give up, not giving in to Nerris' persuasions.

Ered rolled her eyes. The conflict at the laser tag was gathering spectators, and Space Kid was winning, but the mom started to use her weight. Space Kid grinned wickedly and gripped his weapon tighter, not giving up until the last. The child took a high note.

“Ered!” Nikki ran into the girl. “We have to find a rock!” shouted Nikki, trying to block out the child's frantic squealing. “Smash the windshield of the bus! Get Pikeman! And make him go to the basement to get Max, Neil and Dolph! Let's go!”

Ered didn't move, just furrowed her brow a little. Nikki tugged at her sleeve with as much tenacity as those fighting for the last pistol.

“Ered! Come on!!!”

“That's stupid!” shouted Nerris over her shoulder. “The plan will fail on the second point! And the third point will be your call from police station!”

“But they went to the basement.” Nikki was about to burst into tears. “Maybe they're already dead. There's rebel machines and ghosts.”

“And alien invaders?” Space Kid perked up and let go of the pistol. The child and his mom rolled across the laser tag floor, knocking over the advertising installation and the players.

“Who knows?” Nikki whimpered. “Maybe there are alien invaders.”

“I'll deal with it.” Space Kid adjusted his clothes. Behind him, the mother was hysterically screaming under the wild roar of her son.

“Where's that fucking kid?” Dolph stopped and listened.

“It's fucking dark in here,” Max spat out. “I can't see shit.”

“Hey! What was your name? Where are you?! He's gone, that son of a bitch,” Neil said indignantly. “We can go back. He's definitely fucking with us. There's nothing here. Just dust and fucking cobwebs.” There was a rumble. “Fuck! I hit something! When I catch that motherfucker, I'm gonna rip his fucking ears off.”

“If the bear isn't around.” Max snorted. “He's the kid's bodyguard. With a hundred percent chance.”

“Where's the exit?” Neil was getting nervous. “We'll get lost and die here, like speleologists.”

“Tourists die more often.” A light flashed in Dolph's hand, a dense beam sliding over the walls. “Mostly unprepared ones.” The boy raised the flashlight above his head, holding it in a police manner, and illuminated a long hall with garlands of wires and fragments of plastic hanging from the ceiling. “Now that we're down here, I suggest we explore the place. I'm going forward. Are you coming with me? Or will you sit in the dark?”

Max snorted contemptuously and hit the light switch. The ceiling lamps flickered, hummed, and the hall lit up with warm yellow light.

“That's an option.” Dolph put the flashlight away.

“I'm going forward.” Max stepped around Dolph. “Are you with me? And you, Marine, save your batteries. We don't know the condition of the wiring in the basement.”

Max wrinkled his nose, a disgusting mixture of the smells of mold, dust and miasmas lingered in the air. Metal rattled against plastic.

“What the hell?” Max turned around. “I see.”

Dolph was scratching out an arrow and an “exit” sign on the plastic wall.

“Dolph?” Neil leaned over his shoulder. “What's that?”

“Neil, don't pretend to be dumber than you are.” Max rolled his eyes.

“Fuck you,” Neil snapped at him. “He's got a machete!”

“This is a Ka-Bar.” Dolph stroked the blade lovingly with his finger and put the knife away.

“Maaax, we're going to the basement with a fucking maniac. He's got a fucking knife. No, he's got an arsenal of weapons with him. First the taser, now the fucking knife.”

“No taser anymore. Maybe that's what the raccoon used to steal Pikeman's iPhone.” Dolph looked at Neil. “Are you having a nervous breakdown?”

“Yes, I'm having a break–” Neil shrieked and flew back against the wall from a powerful slap. “What the fuck?” He grabbed his cheekbone, his cheek burning.

“Pull yourself together, soldier.” Dolph adjusted his clothes. “Are we going?” He turned his head toward Max.

“Impressive,” Max hummed. “Let's go. The outing promises to be interesting.”

“Nurf!” Preston whispered loudly. “Nurf! Jeez, Harrison, I can't see a thing.” He raised his phone above his head, illuminating the corridor. “Nurf! Shit,” Preston looked at the screen, “there's no connection. And no Wi-Fi. Nurf! We're leaving! My phone's dying. Aah!” A scream caught in his throat as a massive hand clamped his mouth tightly shut.

“Psst, be quiet,” Nurf exhaled in the boy's ear. “It's me. No tail after us?”

“No,” Harrison answered for Preston. Nurf let go of Preston and wiped his drooling hand on his T-shirt.

“She didn't come down, then,” Nurf hummed contentedly. “The calculation was right. That fuzz's going to be guarding the entrance.” He paced nervously from side to side. “I'll stay here.”

“For how long?” Preston bounced away from Nurf and took Harrison by the arm. “How long are you going to stay here? Personally, I'm going upstairs.”

“You ain't going nowhere.” Nurf spread his arms, blocking the exit. “I'm here because of you, bitch.”

“What the fuck?” Preston hid behind his friend. “Because of me? Who's the bitch?”

“And because of this.” Nurf stepped back against the wall, breathing heavily, and turned back to the boys. “Because of this.”

Preston held up the phone, glass glinting. Nurf was holding two glasses.

“I have to put up with your company, Nurf.” Preston sighed and, picking up a glass, strode lazily down the corridor like an earl through his castle. Harrison refused the cocktail, and a satisfied Nurf drained it in a flash.

The trio moved down the corridor under the dim light of Preston's phone flashlight.

Max pulled up a knife switch, and the light flooded the large industrial kitchen. With a huge stove and a row of tables. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strolled through the high-ceilinged kitchen. The whole place was covered in soot and greasy dust.

“Disgusting.” Neil opened one of the kitchen cabinets. “Everything's filthy.”

“Oh, Neil.” Dolph stopped behind the boy's shoulder. “Knives.” Dolph's finger pointed at a drawer with knives of all kinds and sizes. “Still, you don't yell about maniacs in the kitchen.”

Neil ignored the remark, only more eagerly examining the contents of the cabinet.

“Camera?” Max threw back his head. A red light was flickering under the ceiling. “It's working. Recording. Why?”

“Maybe they forgot about it.” Neil peeked around the corner. “So it's recording until it breaks down.”

“It would be interesting to find the security office.” Max pondered. “Or where it broadcasts to.”

“It would be good.” Dolph was going through the kitchen knives. “Then we wouldn't have to wander around on foot, we'd see everything on the cameras.”

“Guys! I don't like this.” Max slowly retreated towards the boys. “Here comes the cook.”

At the entrance to the kitchen, a massive figure stood in the flickering lamp light. A time-worn animatronic blocked the exit. Its body was damaged here and there, and metal parts were visible, rusted in some places. The monster was recognizable as a chicken. Eye sensors flickered with red fire. Pistons rumbled, parts rattled, and the floor vibrated from the heavy footsteps.

“Pull back!” Max commanded. “Speed isn't her forte. There's no way around her, so let's go out the back door.”

Neil was the first to rush to the back door and pulled the heavy door open, the unlubricated bolts creaking. “Fuck, Max, it's a fridge! Or a pantry!”

The chicken turned at the voice, tilted its head to the shoulder and spread its arms.

“Kids,” the broken voice rumbled, like an old recording of a worn tape. The chicken flipped the table, the sound amplified by multiple echoes. “Today's programme is a tea party with Chica.” She picked up a kettle from the stove. “Who wants a cupcake?”

“Go to hell!” Max retreated to the fridge. “Dolph!”

Dolph watched the unexpected visitor coolly, turned over his shoulder, gave Max a brief nod and threw a huge kitchen knife at Chica. “Cut me a piece, bitch!” shouted Dolph, and in two leaps, he was at Max's side. The knife struck the metal plates of her chest and fell to the floor with a clang.

“Fuck!” Max opened his eyes wide. Chica was running towards them, knocking over tables and flashing blood red eye lights.

“A robot uprising!” Neil squealed.

Max struggled to close the heavy door as tightly as possible. “Don't yell.” Max looked around for a bar lock. There was nothing suitable. “It opens outward. Let's hope she doesn't open it.”

“Why wouldn't she?”

“Neil.” Dolph pulled out his flashlight again and slid the beam along the walls. “Her hands aren't designed for fine motor skills.”

“Her body's not designed to move fast! But she's not fucking inert.” Something rattled in the kitchen, and Neil whimpered, covering his ears with his hands.

Max put his ear to the door. “She's not going to stick around, is she? She's got a programme. She should get the fuck out of here soon.”

“What if she doesn't? What if she broke her programme? She can switch on the fridge. And then there will be a tea party with a three-campers ' ragout.”

“Shut up!” Max shouted and listened carefully.

“What?” Neil wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “She's breaking down the door, isn't she? I fucking knew it!”

“Shut up.” Max stepped away from the door. A shadow flickered on the ceiling.

“What the fuck is that?” Dolph turned, also noticing the movement. A spring stretched from the ceiling, and fanged mouth with sharp metal teeth blades hung from it. In a swift leap, it lunged at Dolph. The jaws snapped, but didn't close. The boy's movements were lightning fast: a knife was stuck in its mouth.

“Into the kitchen,” Max commanded. Neil shook his head fearfully. Max pushed open the heavy door, his feet sliding across the smooth floor of the refrigerator-or-pantry. The monster was gnashing its teeth at the ceiling.

The boys burst out into the kitchen. The monster crawled after them, twisting horribly and clawing at the ceiling with its dagger claws. Dolph's eyes widened as the steel knife bent under the jaws of the creature, and its fragments clattered to the floor. Dolph pursed his lips, the fragments of the combat knife lying sadly on the floor.

The monster stopped over the door. It peered in, its eye rolling eerily out of the socket.

“Space Kid's helmet would come in handy.” Max backed away, never losing sight of the fox-faced mechanical monster. “Easy, guys. It can't go through the doorway.”

As if hearing it, the monster crawled away, tore off the ventilation grate with a rumble and disappeared into the dark gap. Max looked up. There was a ventilation shaft opening into the kitchen.

“We'd better hurry! And don't forget, there's fucking Chica is roaming around!”

Preston flicked the switch and opened his mouth. “Wow, we're like stalkers**.”

“Is this an arcade?” Harrison pressed the button of an old arcade machine. The music started playing, immediately slowed down; the machine exhaled and went out.

“An abandoned arcade.” Preston walked around the skewed three-legged pool table. “Like a dystopian movie. Cool! Too bad my phone's dead. Bad timing, as usual.”

“You should watch your battery.” Nurf tried to turn on the arcade machines, going from one to the other.

“What's in there?” Preston stood up on his toes. A dust gray curtain closed the stage.

Harrison opened the curtain a little. “Wow!” He pushed aside an old cloth with a hole at the top.

“Pirate's Cove,” Preston read. “It's pretty old. But cool. It's such an '80s vibe. Hey, pirate.” He put his elbow on the sign and nodded to an animatronic fox in a pirate costume and a patch over his eye. “Let's go treasure hunting! Come on, bro! Your ship, my crew.”

Harrison laughed, looking with interest at the fox pirate with a hook instead of a hand, as a brave pirate should have.

“Harrison.” Preston lowered his voice, turning to look at Nurf, but he didn't hear them, busy with the arcade machines. “Can I ask you a personal question? What did you do? Why can't you forgive yourself?

The smile fell off Harrison's face. He sighed.

“I'm dangerous,” the boy said, looking into the pirate's still face. “I may have killed my brother.” He lowered his gaze. “Anyway, I don't know where he is.” Harrison turned and walked slowly away from the cove. “I wanted him gone, and now he's gone. I knew my power. I knew I could do that. And I did, I didn't stop.”

“You know, it's worse for you than it is for your brother.” Preston pulled away from the sign and took a sip of wine. “Even if he died, he died once, and you kill yourself all the time.”

“His eye twitched!” shouted Nurf, pointing a fat finger at the fox pirate.

“What?” Preston turned around. The fox was motionless, the pirate still standing on the podium with his hooked arm bent and his blindfold over one eye. “What are you talking about, Nurf? You're just drunk. You should drink less! Alcohol kills brains.”

“Yeah, I kill myself every day. Alcohol, drugs, pizza and sex.”

“Why the fuck would you have the last thing?” Preston grimaced.

“Drink up, Preston. Get drunk, Preston. And Nurf's gonna have sex tonight.” Nurf stretched his lips in a lewd smirk.

“Don't even dream about it!”

“Not good enough for you?”

“I don't like rough brutes,” Preston said and hid behind Harrison.

“You can't be weak in this world.” Nurf's face became hard.

“You can't,” Harrison agreed. “When you're a weak camp kitten, you're in danger. You get drowned mercilessly by Nurf.”

“What?” Preston peeked out from behind Harrison. “Ugh, maybe you should put your hair up in a ponytail. Ever thought of that?” He brushed a loose strand of the boy's hair away from his face. “So, you were drowning it after all? You said you didn't.”

“He told the truth, though he was sure he lied.” Harrison glared at Nurf. Nurf didn't avert his eyes. “He didn't drown that poor kitten in the camp. Do you know why, Nurf? I took it. Right off the hook.”

“Oh, that's where it went! I was diving.” Nurf put his hands on his waist. “A pike almost bit my dick off. Don't look at me like that!” He pointed his finger in the boys' direction. “It's not my fault. Life is like that. Maybe the first little brat I broke a leg and took money from had made me feel sorry for him, but then… Kids, cats, dogs. Whatever. The only thing that matters is not to mess with a tough guy who's stronger than me. That would be dangerous–”

“Nurf, I really hope you're fucking lying.” Preston's eyes glistened. “Otherwise–”

“The subject is closed!” Nurf raised his voice and turned sharply toward the exit. “Let's see what's in there, shall we? The lights are on for some reason.” The guy walked out into the dilapidated corridor. “They're fucking with me over some flea-bitten piece of shit.”

Harrison bit his lip so hard it bled, holding back.

“Harrison.” Preston's palm rested on his shoulder. “The world is full of violent creeps.”

They walked slowly down the corridor with cracked walls. Wires dangled from the ceiling and long LED lamps fell out of their sockets. A chuckle sounded over Harrison's ear. He opened his eyes wide and stopped. Preston was standing to his right, and the laughter was clearly audible to his left. The boy turned his head – there was a wall half a meter away from him, turned around – an empty corridor ran back to the arcade.

“What happened?”

“Laughter. Didn't you hear it?”

“Nobody laughed. You're just nervous. Drink some cocktail.”

A distant shout, short and shrill, hit the ears. It was joined by Nurf's shriek and echoed down the corridor. Stomping loudly, Nurf ran into the boys and threw himself on Preston's neck.

“Get your filthy hands off me.” Preston struggled to free himself from the big guy's bear-like grip. “That's Neil yelling. He must have stepped on a rat, or Dolph took his hand. Go check it out. What are they doing out there? Just the two of them. In the basement.”

“Why me?”

“You're tough and big. Go. Maybe they know another way out of the basement that bypasses the guard.”

Nurf scratched the back of his head and, muttering that it was smart, walked down the corridor at the shout. Not at a very fast pace, though.

“Did it help?” Preston watched as Harrison finished his drink and set the empty glass against the wall.

“Yeah.”

“Did it really help?” a quiet voice exhaled in his ear.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Preston furrowed his brow.

“I heard: Did it really help?”

“I didn't say anything.”

Harrison smiled guiltily.

“So you can hear me?” the strange voice spoke again.

“I can.”

“You're scaring me, Harrison.” Preston backed against the wall. “Almost like my ex-boyfriend when he gets high.”

“You shouldn't just stand here,” the voice whispered.

“Why?” Harrison could see how frightened Preston was. He looked away embarrassed and blushed.

“Why?” Preston repeated. “Because he's a junkie.”

“Because not everyone here is friendly. Hide now! Quick!”

“What?”

“There's a closet at the end of the hall. Hurry! You got about ten seconds.”

“Preston, the voice said, we have to run. To the closet.” Harrison shrugged, nodding toward a bulky antique closet with a skewed door.

“So let's go!”

Preston pulled his friend down the hall, into the closet, and shut the unruly doors tightly. The smell of rags and dampness hit their noses.

“Be quiet as mice,” the voice said quickly.

Harrison nodded and put a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

“I trust you and your guardian angel,” Preston whispered in Harrison's ear and then fell silent. Heavy footsteps that vibrated the floor and shook the closet were coming closer. Preston clutched at Harrison.

“What the…?” Preston muttered silently. The cacophony of sounds was growing. The scraping of metal, the rumble of air from the pistons, heavy footsteps. And then there was Nurf's heartbreaking howl.

“Shit,” Preston cursed with only his lips. He opened the door cautiously, a narrow strip of light falling across his face. The sneaky old door creaked unpleasantly, sweat beading on his forehead. He pressed his eye to the crack and recoiled. “What's that?”

Preston backed away from the door and huddled in the far corner, panting heavily. He clutched Harrison's arm and nodded at the door. Harrison peered out cautiously. A huge purple animatronic with ears and glowing red dots in its sensor eyes was leaning over Nurf squirming on the floor. With a hand bare to the endoskeleton, the animatronic rabbit lifted Nurf by the throat and pinned the unfortunate guy against the wall. Nurf's shriek turned to a wheeze as he struggled to tear the metal claw away from him and dangled his legs helplessly in the air.

“We have to help,” Preston whispered, resting his chin on his knees. “But how?”

Harrison continued to stare at the strange metal beast, in some places without a hull. In the gaping holes glimpsed creepy skeletal mounts and tangles of wires.

Harrison took a deep breath and a long exhale, sparks flashed in the boy's eyes. The lamp above the rabbit flared brightly, hummed, skewed as it fell out of its socket and exploded, scattering shards. The monster raised its head. Nurf had a second to slide down the wall, duck under the robot's elbow and dash down the corridor.

“What does your voice say?” Preston whispered.

“Nothing.” Harrison closed the door tightly. The heavy footsteps made the closet shudder again. Preston squeezed his friend's hand tightly.

“Max! Neil! Dolph! Hello!” Nikki cupped her mouth with her hands and shouted into the darkness of the corridor.

“If there are evil ghosts here, you'd better shut your mouth.” Nerris led the small group, lighting the way with the phone's flashlight.

“If I shut my mouth, our search operation will be pointless,” the girl disagreed.

“They can't hear us anyway. Are you sure they're here?” Ered turned to the side. “The corridor branches off. We should split up.”

“Absolutely not.” Nerris jumped up. “We can't split up. The basic rule is to stay together.”

“I'm not playing your Dungeons and Dragons. I just want to get back upstairs.” Ered stepped across the threshold of the room. “There must be a switch somewhere.”

“No.” Nerris grabbed her arm. “Don't turn it on. It's dangerous. They'll find us.”

“Ghosts?”

“Someone.” Nerris raised the phone above her head. “Someone not-Max, not-Neil and not-Dolf.”

The flashlight illuminated a nearly empty room with a couch in the center and piles of metal parts in the corners casting phantasmagorical shadows.

“What if they're already dead?” Nikki said quietly.

“They're probably hanging out upstairs,” Ered replied tiredly. “And where is Space Kid?”

“That's it! I told you we shouldn't split up! Space Kid! We need to go back to the fork…” Nerris stopped half a word. “We're not alone,” the girl whispered. From the depths of the room came strange sounds. Metal scraping and the sound of pistons. Nerris turned on shaky legs and raised the phone above her head.

Red lights flashed in the far dark corner of the room, the darkness stirred and moved toward Nerris, the girl stunned. Heavy footsteps made the floor vibrate, the light from the shaky phone brought out the shiny chocolate surface of the body of an animatronic bear with a bloody mouth. A dark brown stain on its face drew attention. Nikki froze, pressing herself against the wall, and, keeping her eyes on the approaching robot, moved along the wall toward the exit.

“Hey, freak!” Ered shouted out. The bear paid no attention to her; it was closing in on Nerris, cutting off her path to the exit, looming over her with its imposing size. With a creak of unlubricated parts, the bear waddled forward. “Nerris!”

Nerris didn't move. She was still standing like a pillar with the phone above her head and a mask of horror on her face. Ered grabbed the doorjamb, ready to break into a run at any moment.

The metal bear stopped and leaned toward Nerris. He blinked and spread his arms. “Hello,” the mechanical voice scraped.

“Nerris!” Ered shouted, the bear straightened his back, turned his head and raised his hand in a welcoming gesture. Nikki squealed and ran, nearly knocking Ered off her feet. There came a rumbling and cracking sound.

“Martian motherfucker!” Space Kid jumped out behind the animatronic's back. The boy brought a chair down on the bear's head. The old chair shattered on the metal head with a crash, showering the latter with splinters. The bear turned heavily, blinking his heavy eyelids again.

“Run!” Ered shouted, Nerris came to her senses and retreated toward the exit. And the whole group sprinted down the corridor. They ran, not seeing the road or counting the turns. Until they realized they were lost.

“Quiet.” Max raised his hand. The small group stopped under the cover of darkness of an unlit section of a narrow corridor. A hundred yards away from them, an animatronic chicken blocked the road. She stood with her wing-arms hanging down, glowing red lights of her eye sensors. At Chica's feet was a kettle lying on its side, the same kitchen kettle, except without a lid.

“There's no way through,” Max exhaled. “That sneaky bitch is camped up ahead. Waiting. She's camping to catch the campers.”

“She's got an elaborate strategic move to lure us into a narrow corridor. I would have done the same thing,” Dolph whispered. “Classic.”

“We have to find a way around.” Max turned back. “And don't forget about that toothy thing from the vent.”

The three boys moved silently in the dark corridor, trying not to lose each other.

“Hi,” a high-pitched voice called out in the darkness and laughed.

“What?” Max slid his hand along the wall, but there was no light switch nearby. “Dolph, flashlight!”

“There's a problem,” Dolph's voice rang out. “Some bitch had snatched it off.”

Dolph's footsteps hurried down the corridor.

“Dolph!” Max whispered loudly. Moving by feel, Max walked toward the sound of footsteps and fumbling. Neil was cursing behind him.

A light flashed ahead, hitting his eyes. Neil bumped into Max's shoulder.

“What the fuck?” The boy rolled his shoulder. “Did you want a punch in the face?” He raised his voice. “Dolph!

His eyes were watering from the light, and when they began to get used to it, Max saw Dolph. The boy was squatting on the floor, staring intently into the far corner of the room.

“Some little creep stole my flashlight,” Dolph explained, then stretched out on the floor and looked under the cabinets. “I kicked the creep. And I took the flashlight. But it managed to get the batteries out.”

“Fuck it.” Max listened. The corridor was quiet. “There's a much worse threat in here.”

“Yeah, Dolph, let's go.” Neil joined in, the boy was visibly nervous.

A small doll face peeked out from under the closet and disappeared.

“I'm not fucking going anywhere.” Dolph tensed like a cat ready to pounce. “That striped thing had unscrewed the flashlight and stolen the batteries.” A small doll in a striped hat popped out from behind the closet and ran along the wall, laughing. Dolph rushed after it. “Dolph never forgives such things!”

The doll burst into rapturous laughter, jumped up and darted into the vent, which was placed a yard from the floor, as if by the doll's request. The laughter echoed through the shaft. Dolph was speeding up, and Max thought for a second that Dolph wouldn't be able to slow down in time and would be crushed to a pulp. But he didn't. Perhaps to Neil's disappointment. If you could tell from the disappointed sigh of the latter.

Dolph slid his feet across the floor and stopped right at the wall, pressing his cheek against it and shoving his hand as deep into the vent as he could. He searched blindly for the thief, the thudding slaps on the tin walls of the vent echoing.

“Fuck! Almost… I'll get you now. No!” Dolph opened his eyes wide, struggled to pull himself away from the vent, rolled up his sleeve and stared at his wrist. The joyous laughter came again, now from the depths of the vent. “You little bastard!” Dolph's eyes flashed angrily. “That striped bastard snatched my watch. My Commander's watch. A gift from Dad. I'm gonna kill you!” he yelled into the vent. “You're dead!” And kicked the wall with anger.

“Dolph!” Max rolled his eyes. “I told you. Let's go!”

“No!” Dolph kept his eyes on the vent, still standing in a half-bent position with his arms spread out on both sides of the pass. “I'm going to wait for that thing and take my watch along with its hands.” Dolph pursed his lips.

“What if there are many exits?” Neil was getting more and more nervous. “And it'll never go through this pass.”

“Someday it will, and then no one will help it.”

“Fuck!” Neil swore. “Max, do something! Max!”

“Shut up.” Max flinched back against the wall. Neil rounded his eyes and froze. An animatronic bear with a bow tie stood in the doorway, head titled to the side. Neil crouched down, not sure why he did it, and trying not to look at the bear, waddled like a duck to the wall and hid behind a closet. Surprisingly, the bear paid no attention to either Max or Neil. He continued his sedate walk across the room and froze, turning his huge head. For a few seconds he stared at Dolph's back. And then he kicked him. Under the luckily placed butt. And creaked, “You're the… mother… fu… ker… yourself.”

And left the room. Max felt his throat go dry. The footsteps were fading. Neil was mumbling behind the closet. Probably praying. From the shaft came Dolph's cursing and threats. His legs and arms were sticking out of the gap; the boy had managed to get stuck up to his waist by ducking into the vent in the tin-soldier position.

“What a funny bear.” Max pulled away from the wall. “Don't whine.” He glanced at Neil, who was frightened out of his wits. And stared at Dolph's legs. Scratching his chin, he put his arms around the boy's knees and began to pull. Dolph was free in no time. He shook himself off and looked angrily at the boys.

“What bitch kicked me?” Dolph drew a gun and pulled the trigger. “You?” The muzzle flew up, pressing against Neil's forehead, and the boy regretted coming out of his hiding place.

Neil opened his mouth, closed it. And squealed, “We've been set up by the bear!”

“A bear, really? You know what I do with bears? You or you?” He moved the muzzle from Neil to Max and back again.

“Okay, I'll admit it.” Neil fixed his glasses. “It was Max.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Max fluttered his eyelashes.

“I knew you couldn't be trusted.” Dolph looked up with a hard stare. Neil swallowed hard. The muzzle flew upward, and a shot rang out, plastic falling from the ceiling. Neil shrieked again and rushed down the corridor, Dolph behind him.

“Dorks.” Max shook the plastic crumbs from his hair, pulled down the hood of his hoodie and ran after Dolph, catching up fast.

Neil flew with all his might, unable to see the road, and crashed into a metallic brown butt.

“Aaaaaah!” squealed Neil and fell to the floor, clutching his temples. “Aaaaaaah!

“A-a-ah,” the metallic voice repeated.

“Why are you screaming?” Neil raised his head and backed up, crawling back to the wall on his butt.

“And you?” The bear blinked. “Do you want to play?”

“No!” Neil shouted, jumped up and sprinted backward, slamming into Dolph on a curve and rolling with him under Max's feet. Knocking out his gun in the process. “That's it.” Neil sat on the floor and grabbed his head. “The bear wanted to play with me. The bear that kicked Dolph.”

“Don't piss me off,” Dolph exhaled and picked up his weapon.

“Dolph, calm down.” Max saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A huge figure was walking down the corridor.

“Neil kicked me,” Dolph said through gritted teeth, but put the gun behind his belt.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Neil was angry. “It was the animatronic who kicked you.”

“That's a lie.” Dolph pursed his lips.

“No, it's not.” Max glanced at the bear as he walked away. “Something's wrong here.”

“Really?”

Max turned around sharply. Preston emerged from the darkness of the corridor, disheveled and pale. Followed by Harrison, pensive and detached. And Max wondered if it was real. Maybe his brain was playing tricks on him.

“Who was shooting?” Preston glanced cautiously back and forth, and Max exhaled. The boys were real. Preston reeked of alcohol and dampness.

“Dolph,” Max answered briefly. “Counter question: what are you doing here?”

“It's a long story,” Preston brushed it off.

“Great. You can tell it later.” Neil moved as far away from Dolph as he could. “We have to get out of here.”

Max stared out into the corridor for a long time, lost in his thoughts. The kid wasn't lying. Chica, the bear, the crawling creature, and that little thief. What's going on here?

“Max?!” Neil sniffled noisily.

“Right.” Max nodded. “Let's get out of here. Pathfinder, where's north?”

“I don't know about north,” Dolph answered glumly and looked sadly at his wrist, “but the exit is there.” He went down the adjacent corridor.

Max was at the back of the procession. Harrison was walking in front of him. The boy was pensive, more so than ever.

Harrison, how are you? No, it's dumb. Max looked at the boy's slumped shoulders. Harrison, are you okay? Even dumber.

The boys went on in silence, and even the chatterbox Preston didn't utter a word, nor did Max. Max walked glumly, occasionally glancing at Harrison's back until he noticed an arrow carved into the wall that said “exit.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Ered tried to pull herself together. “How do we get out of here? And get past those crazy robots!”

“We should–”

“Fireball them? Shut up!” Ered cut Nerris off. “It's all your fault! You're acting like this is a game, and it's fucking not!”

Nikki whimpered softly, and Ered rolled her eyes. Space Kid walked around the small room, where there wasn't much space. This room had probably used to be a locker room. A row of shelves and a long clothes rack – that was all the decoration of the room. The four flew into it and barricaded themselves in, pushing the long rack against the door. As they calmed down, they came to two conclusions. One, it's dangerous here, and two, they're lost.

“We need to go out and explore,” Space Kid spat out. “Carefully get out to the enemy planet and explore without attracting the attention of the locals. And if we do, knock them out.”

“How do we knock them out?” Ered pursed her lips.

“With improvised means.” Space Kid smiled.

“We have nothing.” Ered looked around and picked up a carnival rabbit mask from the floor. “But you're right.” She weighed the heavy thing, made of plastic and metal, in her hand. “We can't stay here.”

The four pushed away the heavy rack and swung the door open. A scream caught in Nerris's throat. Nikki backed away; Ered hid behind the mask and pressed herself against the wall.

“Martians.” Space Kid clenched his fists. Outside the door stood a doll. A 2 or 3-meter doll with apples of cheeks and neat ponytail.

“Poor kids.” The doll lowered her eyes and then looked up. “Kids are not allowed in here. It's dangerous for kids here. Follow me. Baby will show you the way out.”

The doll turned and walked noisily down the corridor, glancing back from time to time.

“The poor kids are lost. Someone should walk the kids home. What's your name?”

“Nikki,” the blurted out. She was the first to follow cautiously behind the doll, still keeping her distance. “So, you're Baby?”

“Baby. What's your friend's name, Nikki?” She stopped, raising a heavy hand, and, making a fist and sticking out her index finger, pointed at the boy.

“Space Kid.”

“And the other friend?” The index finger turned to Nerris.

“Nerris.”

Baby closed her eyes and nodded. Then turned and walked down the corridor. “Poor kids.”

Ered hesitated. Baby was leading her friends away, and Ered caught up with them, trying not to make any noise.

“Why is it dangerous here, Baby?” Nikki got bolder. She was walking practically next to the massive doll.

The doll turned her head and bowed slightly, looking at Nikki. “Danger lurks in the halls. You have no idea who wanders in the dark. I'll show you a safe path.”

“Into the vent?” Nerris yanked Space Kid by the sleeve. He nodded and stopped. Space Kid gave Nerris a lift; she pulled herself up on her arms and was the first to climb into the pass. Nerris crawled through the relatively wide tunnel by feel.

“Nikki,” Space Kid called in a whisper and dived in after Nerris. “Shit,” Space Kid gasped. “I hurt my hand. What is that thing? A watch?” He fastened it on his wrist and crawled on, trying to keep up.

Nikki turned around, Ered pointed to the vent. Nikki backed away and was about to object it, but Ered shook her masked head. Nikki complied; she climbed in quickly and easily, hitting the wall with her heel at the end. Baby stopped, Ered pressed herself into the wall.

“Baby wants to help us,” Nikki whispered loudly, and Ered clenched her fists, wondering if she'd be able to slip into the vent in time. “We'd be up there by now.”

“Bullshit,” Nerris whispered just as loudly. “It's a trap. A common move in D&D.”

“The kids escaped.” The doll's gaze slid around the corridor, not catching the masked girl. “The nasty kids tricked me.” She walked past Ered. Ered stared at her in surprise, and when the doll was out of sight, she climbed into the pass.

They crawled silently one by one, then silently crawled out into the lighted corridor and, eyes downcast, silently followed Nerris. Who was walking wherever her feet took her.

“Guys.” Nerris perked up after an unknown number of turns and pointed her finger at the wall with a scratched arrow. “Exit! We're saved!”

“Why do you believe that, but you didn't believe Baby?” Nikki stopped and folded her arms across her chest defiantly.

“And I don't give a Houston.” Space Kid lunged forward. “There is no alternative!”

Space Kid was walking fast, and the girls had to run after him. Suddenly Space Kid stopped and fell to his knees.

“Earth,” he exhaled. “We're out.” And leaned his forehead against the mosaic floor of the Pizzaplex.

Erid stepped over him and removed her mask. The pizzeria was in semi-darkness, with only the light of street lamps pouring in through the windows, and the flickering scene of the new generation of animatronics, as Monty had claimed, asleep on charge.

“Are we locked in?” Nikki whispered, treading carefully on the floor. “What if those,” she nodded at the basement, “come out?”

“I doubt it,” Nerris brushed it off. “They live in the dungeon.”

“We should find a security guard or call the police.” Ered pulled out her cell phone. “Or my dads.”

“That's dumb!” came from the darkness.

“Max!!!”

All four of them turned around. In the semi-darkness of the pizzeria, five dark silent figures sat at a table.

“What?” Ered hesitantly approached. “Why…? They're here!” She pointed her finger in the direction of the disheveled shadow. “Nikki! I'll kill you! Max is here! And we…” She tossed the mask onto the table. “We risked our own skin…” Ered's voice trembled.

“Hey.” Preston pulled the mask closer and examined it in the faint stage lighting. “Is that a trophy?”

“Ha, a trophy!” Ered sank tiredly into the seat that had been vacated. “With the mask, I'm invisible to that thing, the killer robot.”

In the back of the pizzeria, a light turned on and footsteps sounded.

“Martians!” Space Kid yelled. He grabbed a chair and threw it through the huge window. There was a deafening sound of breaking glass.

“Holy fuck,” Max said. The alarm system howled. Space Kid jumped on the windowsill and climbed out into the night. The sirens of police cars were approaching. Without a word, the group quickly spilled out into the street.

When the guard ran in, the hall was empty. The cool night air rushed in through the broken window. The floor was strewn with broken glass, and a rabbit mask lay lonely on the table. An old bus whizzed past the window.

When Pikeman calmed down and realized he could do about the situation, he made the sensible decision to get some sleep. So he settled down in the chair. It was uncomfortable, Pikeman twisted around, changed his body position and even the seat. Drowsy and constantly waking up.

Fatigue took over and he fell asleep. Pikeman had a disturbing dream. The dream took him back to the camp: a familiar block, it was night, and he was making his rounds of the bedrooms.

“Dolph, I'm impressed. You opened it so quickly.”

That's a voice Pikeman won't mistake for anyone else's. Of course, Max. Pikeman swung open the bedroom door. A roar hit him with a sonic wave. And Pikeman fell… To the tarp floor. Off the seat. The roaring bus tossed from side to side.

“Maaaax!” Pikeman struggled to get up, rubbing his bruised tailbone, and staggered across the bus. The campers took their seats as if nothing had happened. “You! Disgusting little… campers!” Pikeman pointed his finger at each of the passengers. “You always were! We're going back to the camp! And tomorrow,” he laughed a villainous laugh, “I'll give you a hard time! Max! Get out! I'll drive!”

Max shrugged his shoulders, the brake pads squealed, the bus jerked and stopped. Max climbed out of the driver's seat, yawned and, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, strode across the bus and sat down next to scowling Dolph, casting a disgruntled glance at Harrison and Preston sitting together.

“So easy?” Pikeman was stunned. “I mean, it's the right decision, Max. I'm your commanding officer.” Pikeman straightened up and jerked his chin up. “We'll deal with this disgusting incident at the squad meeting in the morning. Max, you've got three extra duties. The rest of you have two. Understood?” Pikeman furrowed his brow. “Anyone missing?” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “I guess not.” And got behind the wheel.

Nurf ran and ran, and when he was getting tired, he walked. Sometimes he could hardly move his legs. But as soon as he heard a sound, a second, third, n-th breath opened, and he ran again. It seemed to the guy that the iron rabbit was following him, hiding around the corner, waiting in the dark. And if he stopped and relaxed, the iron fingers would close around his neck again.

There was a monotonous hum behind him, perhaps just the wind howling in the vents. Nurf exhaled, calming the trembling in his legs, and continued his walk.

Something rumbled ahead. It was as if a large closet had been overturned. Nurf froze and pressed himself against the wall. His nerves were failing, panic coming in cold waves. His hand fumbled for the door handle. Nurf burst into the room, shut the door tightly and pressed his cheek against it. He wanted to scream, so he clamped his palm over his mouth. Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Someone heavy approached and, without stopping, walked on. The footsteps faded. Nurf took a breath and strained his hearing. Definitely, the footsteps were moving away to a quiet melody. And died down. The melody remained, but not outside the door. The sad melody came from the depths of the room. A music box was playing behind Nurf's back.

A chill ran down Nurf's back. The guy felt a cold sweat, his palms sweating as well. On rubbery legs, he turned around. A clear spot of light shone on the floor of the dark room, as it does when the full moon peeks through the window. Nurf breathed deeply; the room was windowless. He looked around and saw no semblance of a spotlight. But the spot was glowing, presenting a lonely box to the sole viewer. To a repetitive motif, the lid creaked open. Nurf took a step. The pounding of his heart drowned out the melody. Nurf approached slowly, step by step. Nothing was happening. He walked around the perimeter of the circle and stepped onto the spot, casting a few crossed shadows. The music cut off, abruptly and suddenly. “Meow,” came from the box.

“What the hell?” The guy licked his lips and peered inside. Darkness and nothing more. A darkness that seemed bottomless to Nurf.

“So you hurt those weaker than you?” whispered a voice. “That's wrong. Didn't your mother tell you?”

Nurf jumped back into the darkness. The blur disappeared as if someone had turned off the moon. Darkness came over the guy, pitch black and heavy, absolute blackness. And streaked with white lines. A black-and-white mask emerged from the darkness and leaned toward him from a two-meter height. Bloody tears spurted from the dark eye sockets of the mask.

“The power over someone else's life makes you dizzy. Doesn't it?” The white mask with black eye sockets and bloody apples of cheeks whirled around the frightened guy and soared upward. The black-and-white marionette on invisible threads danced, twitched in a nightmarish dance and hovered in the air. “You're in my power, weak ginger kitten. Say ‘meow’.” The puppet of the infernal theater continued her blood-chilling performance. The marionette's long, spider-like fingers reached for Nurf.

“Meow.” Nurf murmured.

“Meow?” The puppet's snake-like body leaned toward him. Nurf nodded. “It doesn't touch my heart.”

Nurf rushed to the door. The lock was jammed. He yanked as hard as he could, but the handle wouldn't budge. The marionette laughed behind him. A high, hysterical laugh. Nurf glanced over his shoulder. The white stripes of the elongated body spoiled the darkness, the white mask staring at him with empty eye sockets.

“Foxy, my friend, it's time for your performance,” the Marionette spoke. And disappeared into the darkness. The bells of her jester's cap jingling.

A metal pirate hook gleamed in the faint light of the ceiling lamp and pulled aside the dusty old curtain, moth-eaten in places. Dust crumbled, spiderweb garland flew up. A two-fingered metal foot dropped down beside a broken, old-fashioned sign that barely read “Pirate's Cove”. An animatronic fox in a pirate costume took off his pirate hat and hung it on the sign. He moved his heavy jaw, stretched his members like an athlete before a competition and with a “dum dum de dum” left the room.

Nurf pounded on the door, hit it with his shoulder. Nurf became hysterical, sobbing and smearing tears on his face. And the stubborn door gave in. Nurf fell to the floor. And went numb, his mouth dry. Nurf bumped his nose against the metal, two-toed feet.

🍕 🍕 🍕

The skinny teenage boy pulled the hood of his purple red hoodie down tight, the rain was beginning to drizzle, rustling down the fallen leaves. Rain again. As if the day wasn't enough. The deserted streets turned into a muddy mess. The last streetcar with glowing windows rumbled by. At the windblown stop, the wind tried to tear off the glued flyers. “Attention! Missing child, dressed…” and a picture of a red-haired, freckled boy with a defiant look.

“New,” the boy said quietly and shoved his chilled hands into his pockets. An old, faded photo of a sad girl was almost completely covered by a fresh sheet of paper.

“Michael?”

The boy shuddered and, not looking back, ran across the street, comparing himself to a street rat. Only when he was in the darkness of an unlit part of the street did he stop. A girl in a jacket and jeans had fallen behind a group of kids and was looking across the street.

“Charlie.” Michael lowered his head and leaned against a wet tree trunk. At least the slanting jets of fall rain didn't reach here. The rain rumbled and bubbled in puddles on the pavement and hid Michael from the girl's eyes behind a solid wall.

Michael leaned the back of his head against the trunk. The rain rustled the leaves of the dense crown.

“Maybe…” Michael sighed. “No. I can't bring her into this.”

The rain didn't stop. The windows of the pizzeria glowed through the rain.

“Charlie, don't be a killjoy! You're ruining the fun!”

“This is my party.” The neat girl in jeans and a brightly colored blouse with a beaded heart stomped her foot. Charlie was a “good girl.” And good girl Charlie had promised her dad, after asking for the party, to follow a few rules. And now one rule was broken. Broken by her friends.

“You can't go near the animatronics.” Charlie was pushing through a crowd of kids to get to a group of animatronics. “Come on, guys! It's not allowed. Safety rules–”

The kids laughed and picked Charlie up in their arms. She was dragged by her arms and legs to the laughter of those she thought were her friends. And asked her dad to throw them a party at the pizza parlor. With music, dancing, pizza, sodas and animatronics, the miracle of this town. Dad hadn't agreed for a long time, lately he'd even asked Charlie to stay away from the animatronics. And often argued with his old friend William about redesigning the animatronics, demanding that the heavy and sharp parts be removed. And destroy the animatronic suits, at least get them out of the pizzeria. And when a new animatronic doll, the beautiful Baby, appeared to the delight of the pizzeria's little visitors, Dad worked for a long time in his workshop and showed Charlie his creation, a tall doll in a striped suit and a theater mask face. The new friend walked Charlie to school and greeted her, scaring the neighbors with its appearance. And it never left her side at home. Charlie even got tired of its company, but agreed to have the marionette doll in the halls of the pizzeria while Charlie had fun with her friends. The fun was over.

They shoved Charlie out the door, dropping her on the wet doorstep. Resentment clenched the girl's throat, and she jumped up and wiped her soiled palms on her jeans. The door wouldn't open. Charlie ran around and peered through the window. The kids were having fun, laughing, fooling around with the animatronics her dad had forbidden them to go near. The animatronics wouldn't turn on, standing statuesque, but the kids were still delighted. And they were even more excited when a tall, stripped doll with a white face and a bright red blush entered the room. They surrounded the doll, not letting it pass.

Charlie wrapped her arms around her shoulders. She was shivering with cold rain and resentment. The girl sighed and walked home, wondering how and what to tell her father.

Michael was cold to the bone, and the pizzeria was still crowded. It would be impossible to sneak into the pizzeria tonight and sort out his suspicions and theories on the spot. Maybe he was going crazy.

“How do people go crazy?” Michael snorted. “I guess they start making dangerous animatronics.”

It was time to go back to his lair, as Michael called the old abandoned house on the outskirts of town, where he settled in. The house had no amenities. But there was shelter in rain, and from the attic window he could see the house on the hill, his family home. Michael was used to the discomfort. He was used to sleeping on the floor on an old mattress with holes in it, shivering from the cold. Used to washing his face in the creek. Used to starving until a job for a teenager came up. It wasn't so hard in the summer, especially when his sister had miraculously found out about his lair and left a package on his doorstep every day. Food, clothes and comic books.

“Liz.” Michael lowered his head and walked through the puddles. One day there was no package, Liz didn't show up. Michael bided his time and snuck into the house on the hill. There was no sister. Not anywhere. Her room looked as if she'd just left. Except that everything was covered with a layer of dust, the chrysanthemums in the vase on the window withered and the water dried up. And there was a new animatronic in Afton Senior's workshop.

“You're not as ugly as the others.” Michael flicked the switch and pursed his lips as he noticed the faded bloodstains on the doll. The doll opened her eyes, and Michael ran, leaving the lights on in his father's workshop.

Once more walking down the familiar street, he turned toward the pizzeria. His feet led the way, the smell of baked goods hitting his nose. His hungry stomach rumbled pitifully. Michael leaned against the wet window. It was too crowded, a room full of people. And animatronics, including her, the Baby doll. Right now, Baby stood with her eyes closed, but the last time Michael had seen her, at the house on the hill he'd snuck into last week, the damn doll had been talkative. Too talkative for an animatronic. Whether she could be trusted, Michael didn't know. After all, that monster was his dad's creation. But this thing claimed to know where Liz was. And begged him, Michael, to save her. But to do that, he had to give her, Baby, a hug.

With a howl, a police car whizzed by and turned the corner of the pizzeria. He ducked and hid behind the overgrown shrubbery. The neighboring courtyard, surrounded on four sides by high-rises, was noisy. The police car was parked at the curb, the beams from the flashlights cutting through the twilight.

Michael pursed his lips. There was a car in the middle of the road with the door open and the engine still running. The car of Henry, his father's friend and partner. Trying to avoid the flashlights, he brushed past the patrolman into the closed area. Michael spotted Henry from afar. Always trim, Henry seemed very old at that moment. Henry fell to his knees, remaining standing in the liquid mud. In his old cloak with the shiny leaf brooch on the lapel. He stood over the motionless body and stroked its limp thin fingers.

Michael craned his neck, though he had no doubt who Henry was grieving over. A girl in jeans and a brightly colored blouse with a beaded heart lay on the wet ground.

“Michael?” flashed through his head again. The last thing he'd heard from Charlie. The last time they'd met. Just a couple hours ago.

Michael backed away and, hiding in the darkness, made his way to the path that led between the houses. He was running into the darkness, away from it all. And stumbled, almost falling. His heart nearly jumped out of his ribs. The motionless body stretched across the path. Michael exhaled, crouched beside the body in the striped suit and turned it over. The snow-white face with dark eye sockets and circles of cheeks stared up at the sky.

“Shit.” Michael jumped away. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” He bit his fist, tears streaming. “Shit! Charlie, Liz, Evan!” Michael ran for his lair, leaving behind the long doll whose white stripes painted the darkness of the yard.

Chapter Text

“I think the punishment is disproportionate to the crime.” Neil adjusted his glasses. “And given the circumstances–”

“And I think you should shut up. Not to mention the personal insult. You locked me up all night. I peed on the bus.”

“Don't worry, Quartermaster does that too.” Max snorted.

“Quit talking!” Pikeman barked. He gave the squad a disparaging look and opened his clipboard, pulled out a pencil from behind his ear, wet the tip of it with saliva and checked the box. “Neil and Nikki.” He looked intently at them. “Duty in the kitchen. Accepted. Given good feedback from Gwen and the Quartermaster, counted as a double duty. Dismissed. “Nerris and Ered, duty of cleaning the corps. Accepted. You'll be on duty in the kitchen tomorrow.”

“That's not fair, why it doesn't count as double duty?” Ered grumbled. “We've been slaving all day. It's all cleaned up.”

“Dismissed!” Pikeman waved the girls away. “Space Kid, accepted.”

“Maybe Space Kid's duty counts as a double, too? He was just standing next to the platypus!” Ered was outraged.

“I brought it water.” Space Kid turned around.

“Duty in the petting zoo. Accepted,” monotonously repeated Pikeman. “Tomorrow you will repeat. Duty in the petting zoo.” Pencil lead squeaked on the paper. “As for the others… Disaccepted.”

“We were standing guard!” Preston almost jumped.

“There's no such word as ‘disaccepted’,” Neil corrected, unable to resist a comment. “It's either unaccepted or disapproved. Pick whichever one you think is appropriate.”

“I find ‘shut up, Neil’ and ‘get the fuck out of here, Neil’ appropriate. Get out of here with the girls and the pipsqueak. There's only penalized soldiers left!” Pikeman raised his voice. The squad thinned. Pikeman stepped toward Preston. “You were playing poker at the post.”

“Slander!” Preston blurted out.

“Where's the proof?” Harrison rubbed his chin. “Who saw it?”

“Who? The commission! The commission saw it when they passed the post. And you,” he poked his finger into Harrison's chest and pointed it at Preston, “didn't even pay attention. All you did, Harrison, was wave your hand in the direction of the square!”

“I had a royal flush.”

“Of course you did.” Preston folded his arms across his chest. “Magician. Cheater.”

“Hey, I played fair.”

“Shut up! What about you?” Pikeman went to Dolph. “You were on duty on the beach. As what? A lifeguard! And you? A man was drowning and you did nothing.”

“Correction.” Dolph jerked his chin up. “Not a man, David. Not drowning, but playing with the junior squad. It was a peculiar game.”

“What's the problem with me?” Max spoke up. “I announced every damn thing.”

“The problem is how you announced it. ‘Pimply bastard's lost. Hey, little shit, either go to the front gate or kill yourself against a tree. Preferably a pine tree, the head counselor's favorite tree. We welcome newcomers and remind you that you have ten seconds to escape from this hellhole. Too late. A counselor will come up to you and inject you with the serum. And you'll become zombies like everyone else.’ Two more duties! Max, three more duties! And plus one for not doing your job!”

Preston put his palm to his forehead, Harrison exhaled noisily. Dolph's face didn't change, only a wicked spark flickered in his eyes.

“And what about you?!” Max frowned from under a strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Our screw-ups are nothing compared to yours.”

“What's my screw-up?” Pikeman said mockingly, satisfied with his first victory over the undisciplined squad.

“One of your campers is missing. Where's Nurf?”

Pikeman rounded his eyes and dropped his clipboard. “Fuck! Max, why didn't you bring this up before?”

“Well, I'm not in charge. You are.”

“A commander like that should be court-martialed,” Dolph peppered the situation.

“Where's Nurf?! Max!!!”

“How should I fucking know?” Max shrugged.

“The last time we saw him,” Preston exhaled and rolled his shoulders, “he was running down the hallway of the Pizzaplex basement from an animatronic terminator bunny.”

“What?” Pikeman was shaking. “What terminator?”

“What don't you understand?” Max rolled his eyes. “From the long-eared terminator.”

“I think he's in serious trouble.” Harrison shook his head. “The rabbit has bad intentions. Before Nurf escaped, the rabbit tried to strangle him. Or smash him against the wall. It was hard to see from the closet.”

“I don't understand.” Pikeman wrung his hands and suddenly turned around. Telling Snake to “stay in charge,” he took a quick step down a shortcut, namely through the bushes, toward the main building. The guy was in a hurry, making his way through the bushes.

“Where are you going?” Max kept up.

“To David.” Pikeman didn't stop. “Go back to the base.”

“No way,” Max drawled. “I wouldn't miss such a show.”

The four penalized boys leaned against the window, not caring much about disguise. And Pikeman occasionally squinted angrily at the curious faces. It was hard to hear, but it was clear to see how nervous Pikeman was, how Gwen was scolding him, how frightened David was. No, they heard a few things. For example, “You're going to explain to his mother where his son went,” in Gwen's shrill voice. And when David started pacing nervously, talking on the phone, Max couldn't stand it and went inside. Through the door, missing the end of the conversation. He just appeared on the doorstep, swinging the door open. Three curious faces peering out from behind him.

“Mr. Campbell will call the police himself. No need to worry, Mr. Campbell will take care of everything.” David ran his hand through his hair and smiled at the campers. “Now, everybody go to the beach. There's a bonfire, songs and dancing. Remember?”

“I doubt anyone will be looking for Nurf,” Max grumbled. “He was a real asshole, though. Fuck him.”

“Max,” David said in a soft voice, heading toward Max, and Max prudently stepped back. You could expect anything from David. He might even start patting you on the head. “Don't worry, they'll find him.” The phone rang and David glanced at the screen. “You see, they must have already found him. Hello? Yes, Mr. Campbell. You want me to send you the contract with Mrs. Nurfington? All right. Of course, Mr… What? Don't send it? Burn it? All right, Mr. Campbell. Have a good day, Mr. Campbell.” David put the phone in the back pocket of his pants. “You see, Max, Mr. Campbell's already looking for–”

“Are you serious?” Gwen barely restrained herself from slapping David on the head, but lowered her hand. “David…” she growled.

“It's Mr. Campbell. He's looking for Nurf, and to find him we have to burn the contract. That's what he said–”

“Oh, he'll find him, of course he will. We can order a memorial service.” Max snorted and walked out the door. The wind brought the smell of smoke, the kind you get when spruce branches burn. There was laughter, the camp celebrating the opening of the season.

“You think they won't be looking for him?” Preston sank down on the step and folded his palms in front of his face. The boy looked confused and guilty.

“It's Campbell.” Harrison smiled sadly.

“Are we going to leave Nurf?” Preston looked up. There was fear and tears in his eyes. Or maybe they glistened from the wind.

Harrison shook his head. “We have to go back for Nurf.”

“We will.” Dolph straightened his back. “Personally, I'm going back for my watch. I'll look for the fat-ass while I'm there.”

“So we'll return,” Max jingled keys, tossed the bunch in his palm and hid them in his pocket. “We'll return in David's car. That jerk left his keys on the table. Some people never learn.” He descended the steps with a measured step.

The Pizzaplex doors slid open to let the customers in, and Preston whimpered softly. Harrison took his hand. The windows Space Kid had broken were already shining with new panes.

“You gotta be kidding me!” The security guard in the bunny suit blocked their way.

“What's the problem? We're customers!” Max pursed his lips, raising his voice, thus attracting everyone's attention. “What's with the unreasonable nagging?”

“Unreasonable?” The guard's nostrils flared like an angry bull. “Customers? I should turn such customers in to the police. Which I'm going to do.” With shaky hands, she pulled out her cell phone.

“Easy, pretty girl.” Dolph pushed surprised Max behind his back. “I'll explain something to you.” He took her by the waist and led her away from the boys. “Where do you have a suitable staff room?” Dolph looked back and winked at the team. “Wait for me,” he said with just his lips.

“Interesting,” Max rubbed his chin.

The trio took the far table, the boys sipping their juice in silence. Max looked at the animatronics. The animatronic jazz band seemed perfectly safe. Interactive dolls with prescribed programs. No more dangerous than a vacuum cleaner.

“Too bad I'm not a programmer,” Max muttered.

“What do you mean?” Preston narrowed his eyes. The robots were showing off on the podium. Only now he didn't want to go near them.

“I wonder why those,” Max pointed to the floor with his eyes, “are so fucked up. Are they test versions, full of glitches and bugs?”

“Or maybe they were made that way on purpose,” Preston suggested.

“Who would be interested in that?” Max made a skeptical grimace.

“Exactly,” Harrison stroked the smooth surface of his glass, “we need to find out as much as we can about the creator of those machines. And figure out his motivation. Who knows, maybe they're a psycho, a maniac, or a fanatical scientist.”

“It smells like a conspiracy theory.” Max flashed his eyes. “What's next? This creator is an alien trooper, and there's an invasion… Fuck!”

Max's eyes went wide. Preston and Harrison turned around, and Preston chuckled. At the ajar door, the disheveled guard was smiling at Dolph, who (Preston wiped his eyes) was tightening his belt around his waist. The guard nodded, and Dolph smoothed his hair and headed toward the basement, making a barely perceptible hand gesture to the boys.

“I assume the bunny has been neutralized?” Max snorted once they'd closed the door and switched on the lights in the long corridor. It still smelled of dust and damp.

“Vanessa promised to cover for us.” Dolph stretched his neck as if before a fight. “Ready to go down to hell again?”

“Dolph, how?” Preston touched the boy's arm. Dolph turned to him and smiled enigmatically.

“I don't want to know how Dolph groomed that chick.” Max moved down the corridor.

“Master,” Harrison praised him. “It was efficient and quick.”

“Did you want him to fuck her straight till dawn?” Max didn't turn round. “That's impossible. There's nothing straight when you're in the company of queers obsessed with conspiracy theories.”

“Why the fuck would you say that?” Preston clenched his fists.

“Queers? What about you?” Harrison flashed his eyes. “You're a jerk and you're talking shit!”

“That sucks.” Dolph stopped. “Such behavior are unacceptable in the team. It's tantamount to death. Max!”

“Fine.” Max slowed down.

“Fine?” Preston wouldn't calm down. “You insulted us for no fucking reason. Why?”

“So you could handle Chica. It's a magical ritual.”

“Now he's mocking me,” Harrison muttered.

“Max, did you want to fuck Vanessa?” Dolph was walking next to Max.

“What? No! I don't like milfs!”

“She's not a milf! She's 23.”

Preston was following them in quick, short steps. “He's just a toxic asshole. Am I right, Harrison? Harrison!” Preston turned around. “Guys, Harrison's gone!”

“Shit!” Max swore. “Harrison!!! Don't be a jerk! Harrison!” Max sprinted backwards. Preston was behind him, and Dolph was covering them. They got to the exit. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

“He could leave.” Max flashed his eyes. “He can't be that crazy to go into the clutches of animatronics alone.”

“He seemed to prefer the company of animatronics to yours.” Preston was barely holding back tears.

“Then, he's fucked up.” Max slammed his fist into the wall. “Oh, right, he's a psycho.”

“And you're a bitch!” Preston stomped his foot. “How can you say that? Max! He could die! Because of you!”

“Calm down!” Max's eyes glistened. “Let's go find Harrison and Nurf.”

“And my watch,” Dolph added. “I suggest we take another corridor. If he hasn't gone upstairs–”

“He won't.” Preston bit his tongue, but immediately spat out, “He heard a voice here.”

“Great! Now this.” Max rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Max. Harrison's not crazy. That voice warned us. And we hid just in time. Otherwise, we'd be in the clutches of that rabbit. The one that was chasing Nurf.”

“Let's say the voice warns Harrison of danger,” Dolph continued. “Then he has a chance of survival until we find him.”

“What the hell is that voice?” Max furrowed his brow. “He won't leave the basement because of a strange voice?”

“It's none of your business,” Preston snapped. “Besides, I don't know. I'm just guessing.”

“What are your guesses, exactly?”

“That some ghost is protecting Harrison.” Preston rolled his eyes in a dreamy, romantic way. “The ghost of a handsome prince who died within these walls. Or a mysterious knight who fought animatronics, saved a prince or princess, and sacrificed his life.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Max put his palm to his forehead.

“It might be a trivial intuition.” Dolph wondered. “The reptilian brain works wonders, it's poorly understood. Harrison's works well, and you are degenerates.”

“And you?”

“I'm Aryan.”

“Great.” Max narrowed his eyes.

“With exercises and meditations I improve the quality of my reptilian brain.” Dolph adjusted his vest. “We can't stay in one place. It's unproductive.”

“Agreed. So, where would the trained Aryan set up a security console?” Max rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“At the entrance. But which one? There's at least two.”

“The first thing we'll do is find the security console.”

“Where the cameras broadcast.” Preston nodded.

“Exactly. Dolph's right, we'd better hurry.”

Harrison wandered down the empty corridor, stepping carefully over the rubble. He kept the lights off, trying to get used to the darkness, and walked by feel, listening. In some places, the darkness thinned to a starless night, and Harrison could see outlines.

“Why did you come back?” a familiar voice exhaled in his ear.

“We're missing a friend,” Harrison answered, and turned around, noticing the movement of a white cloud in his side vision. “Wait… I see you. I think I do.” Harrison strained his eyes, then relaxed his focus. His eyes were watering from the strain. But as 3D pictures do, the outline of a human body formed from the white cloud. “You're a boy.”

“Huh,” the silhouette snorted mockingly, and a ghostly strand of hair fell across a ghostly forehead. Harrison reached up to remove it from the boy's eyes. He felt nothing beneath his fingers, nothing but a cool freshness. The kind you can feel over the calm surface of water. And then he saw eyes.

“You are transparent, and your gaze is deep. You have blue eyes. I'm Harrison, by the way. What's your name?”

“Michael.” The ghost was dazed and confused.

“Were you killed here?”

“Almost here. Upstairs. Back at the old pizzeria. Wait, are you seriously seeing me? What am I doing?” Michael spun around.

“Yes, I do. You're spinning.”

“How about now?” Michael stretched his mouth with his little fingers and stuck out his tongue.

“Stop it.” Harrison brushed it away. “You're making faces. Michael, thank you. For saving me and Preston.”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “Here we go. You do a good deed, and then you have to listen a bunch of thank-yous. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. Your gratitude is deadly boring. This place isn't much fun without it.” The ghost kicked the wall, and his foot went through.

“So you need to leave. Where do people usually go?” Harrison tapped his lips thoughtfully.

“I have no idea. What difference does it make? I don't think it's any more fun anywhere. Death isn't fun.” Michael pulled his hood up, which made him look like an ominous ghost.

“I think you're stuck on emotion.”

“You think wrong. What are you here for? To find your friend or a withered almond tree?” Michael said glumly.

“Pourquoi pas?” Harrison shrugged. “We could also paint a bloodstain in the guard's room, if you know how to sneak in.”

Michael chuckled. “Me? Of course I do.”

“Holy shit!” Preston shrieked and clutched at Max's sleeve. “It's that killer rabbit!”

The narrow corridor, lit by a lone flickering lamp, was blocked by the massive figure of an animatronic rabbit. The trio backed away. The rabbit flashed its bloody eyes. From deep within the rabbit, a low moan erupted, making blood freeze in their veins.

“Ahhhh… The show's coming on! Ready to rock with Bonnie?”

“No fucking way, junkie! Let's get outta here! Now!” Max commanded.

“Problem.” Dolph pressed his back against the wall and thought frantically, his hand twitching to his belt. On the other side of the corridor, Chica was approaching.

“We're all going to die.” Preston shook his head.

“At least,” Max looked around, “we'll sell our lives for more.” He weighed a piece of pipe with torn jagged edges in his hand. “Take it, bitch!” He threw the pipe at the chicken with force.

The pipe, cutting through the air with a whoosh, flew through the corridor and clinked against the animatronic's head. Chica staggered, red sensor lights flashed in the depths of her eyes and went out. The pipe rang deafeningly as it fell to the floor, the broken lower part of Chica's beak hanging lifelessly.

With his side vision, Dolph kept his eyes on the second member of the ambush. Bonny was noisily approaching, flashing the lifeless glass of his eyes. Yard by yard. Dolph drew his gun and took aim at the rabbit.

“Come on,” Dolph whispered. “Come to daddy, you fucking showman.” The gunshot rang out, and the bursting bullet blew pieces of plastic off the rabbit's face.

“Fuck,” Preston whispered. “He's scarier that way.”

Dolph grinned crookedly and beckoned. And Preston, on shaky legs, pressed as hard as he could against the wall and squeezed past the rabbit. Deep inside the animatronic's head, bearings were spinning, wires sparking. Bonnie froze for a couple seconds, but it was enough for the trio to flee, leaving the two damaged animatronics behind.

Preston flew down the corridor, swerving left and right and not making out the way. He could hear Dolph screaming, Max cursing. But he also heard the guys keeping up. The boy got his second wind. He ran like a wild animal fleeing from the hounds, leaving his companions behind.

Preston swerved once more and almost fell from the sharp jerk. Suddenly, Dolph caught up with him and stopped him, clutching at his shoulder. Preston was breathing heavily, wheezing and whistling. His hair was wet and stuck to his forehead. He bent down and put his hands on his knees.

Dolph threw off his vest and looked around. “Geez! You've got a great survival instinct!”

“What are you talking about?” Max joined the guys. The boy was breathing hard, too. He looked out into the hallway, checking for pursuit. “That frightened deer has led us into the middle of nowhere.” Max glared angrily in Preston's direction.

“That scared deer found us a security console.”

“What?” Max turned around. “Console? Where are the screens?”

He looked around the small room, which looked more like a closet than a security office. Almost half the room was taken up by a massive desk piled with moldy sheets of paper. A wide, old-style monitor towered over the dusty paper pile. The entire wall behind the desk was occupied by a huge poster with a familiar trio of animatronics. Along the opposite wall stretched a row of lockers with skewed doors. In the corner, a yard from the floor, hung an open metal box, rusted and covered with cobwebs.

“Dangerous place.” Dolph frowned. “This room is a passageway.”

Through the doorways were dark corridors. Dolph plopped down in a chair and leaned over to a system unit. An old computer hummed.

“Great.” Dolph leaned back in the chair. “We'll get something out of this junk. Better those things don't come here. We're like sitting ducks in this place.”

The computer howled, lines running across the screen. Max lazily walked around the table and opened the squeaky door of the metal box. Buttons, switches and sensors peered through the tangle of wires. He studied the complex system for a while and even flicked a couple of switches. Preston had caught his breath by now and sat down on the edge of the table, keeping his eyes on the doors.

“I hope I don't regret this,” Max mumbled and flipped one of the switches. With a noise and a hum, the heavy doors came down, closing both exits. “And this old shit won't bury us here.”

Preston's eyes went wide. “Maaax, open it! Open it! We gotta get outta here!”

“We're looking for Harrison and Nurf.” Max pursed his lips. “We're not leaving until we get through the computer. Is that clear?”

“Make sure the doors open,” Preston whimpered.

“I might even let you out. Get out of here!” Max flicked the switch. The hoist rumbled, and Preston shrieked suddenly, the sound ringing in their ears. Max twitched, caught a bare wire and jerked back, then turned around slowly, as if in slow motion. Metal feet, calves, thighs, and a voluminous butt showed from under the rising door. Max reacted lightning fast, lowering the switch again. The automatics exhaled and slid down. Lower, and lower, closer to the floor… A metal arm slipped through the hole and began fumbling around. Preston screamed again. The door continued to lower, the metal rattled, the arm twitched, the metal fingers bent and unbent erratically. Sparks spattered under the door, followed by the smell of burning wiring, and the arm froze.

“The first trophy.” Dolph looked out from behind the computer with an Olympian calm. “Those things are vulnerable.”

“We're even more vulnerable.” Preston sobbed. “Poor Harrison. He's all alone out there. And Nurf? Is he even alive?”

“Guys.” Dolph poked his finger at the screen. Max and Preston stood next to the boy. He switched cameras, showing corridors and rooms. “The image sucks. This equipment is older than the Quartermaster. Oh! Check it out!” Dolph held up the image and nodded to Max. Max moved closer to the screen. “The corridor outside our door.”

“And the severed arm,” Max finished contentedly. The metal stump with a bunch of torn wires, abandoned by the owner, was lying on the doorstep.

“I don't see Harrison.” Preston sat down on the armrest.

“He's probably hiding somewhere.” Dolph switched cameras, images flickering.

“Stop!” Max shoved him. Dolph returned the image. “One spotted.” On the screen, the bear was running around in circles in one of the rooms. “Next.”

“Chica!” Preston almost fell off the chair.

“And she's outside our door. In the other hallway.” Dolph rubbed his chin. “How long is she going to lay siege? Can we wait it out?”

Chica stood facing the entrance, calm and patient, her arms hanging limply at her sides.

“Not going to find out.” Max smirked. Before the boys could stop him, he was at the metal box. Both doors rumbled, crawled upward. “Come on, bitch! Get me!” Max yanked the switch down and rushed to the door, pulling the severed rabbit's arm out from under the other door on the way. Displeased with the quick change of commands, the doors froze. Max fell on his stomach and, stretching out the metal arm, began pounding the chicken's legs with it. With a clatter, Chica kneeled down and put her hands through, trying to reach the insolent boy. The automatics began to close and the doors slid down.

“Stupid bitch!” Max jumped up happily. Both of Chica's hands were pinned by the heavy doors. The rumbling and scraping of metal was grating on the ears. “Ha!!!”

The animatronic's hands twitched and sparked, smelling of burnt plastic.

“Cool.” Preston cheered and put his elbow on the back of the chair. “What did you get for us, Dolph? Did you find anything?”

“Nothing interesting so far.” Dolph unpacked folder after folder. “Only instructions and accounting documents.”

“I'm all for it.” Harrison forced a smile. “No, really, Michael, let's have fun.”

“To the Arcade, then.” Michael did a somersault in the air. “It's my favorite place. You'll never want to leave! I bet you won't!”

“Does something actually work in there?”

“It does! If I could push those buttons, I'd never get out of there!”

Harrison could barely keep up with Michael. The boy had to step over mountains of boxes, pieces of plastic and other junk.

“Michael, when did you die?”

“I don't want to talk about it!”

“Hey! We're friends. Aren't we?” Harrison picked up a mask of a white fox from the floor, shook it off and tried it on. “You didn't ask if I wanted to play pixel Mario.” He lifted the mask to his forehead.

Michael stared at him silently, contemplating. “What does your highness want to play, then?” Michael was lost in thought, and when he came to his senses, he stretched his lips in a fake smile.

“What?” Harrison tilted his head to the side, remembering. “Skyrim, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect. Minecraft, at least,” he added, lowering his gaze to Michael. Th looked confused. “You've never played them? Don't tell me you've only seen pixel games. Michael, you need to play some new games. You're gonna love it!” Harrison's eyes sparkled.

“Are they cooler than Saboteur?” Michael frowned from under a strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Cooler!”

“Duh.” Michael scratched the back of his head. “I guess I died too soon.”

“Definitely!”

“Don't tell me they invented hoverboards.”

“They didn't. But the technology would surprise you.” There was a sad note in Harrison's voice.

“Oh, come on! Did they make a sequel to Robocop?”

“I don't know. They made more Star Wars movies.”

Michael wrinkled his nose. “Not interested. What about Predator?”

“I think so. I'm not sure. Ah,” Harrison snapped his fingers, “they definitely did.”

“How's Arnold doing? His muscles must be even bigger now.”

“He's not in there.”

“He's not? Predator without Arnold?”

“Yep. How can you not be interested in Star Wars?”

“It's boring. Two characters in the whole movie. “

“What about the Jedi? And the smugglers?”

“How can there be Predator without Arnold?”

“Easily. There's new characters.”

“Sucks. Your future sucks.” Michael shoved his hands in his pockets. “What else you got to say? That Michael Jackson's out of the picture?”

“In a way, yeah. You're gonna be upset.”

“I don't wanna know. What about George Michael?”

“Same.”

“Cursed name.”

“Hey!” Harrison shoved Michael in the shoulder, but his arm went through. He didn't hold on and fell against the wall.

Michael laughed and somersaulted through the air, then leaned toward him and held out his hand. “Come with me, I'll show you the best games, the best movies, the best music.”

Harrison shook his head, refusing help, stood up and rubbed his bruised shoulder. “You're right about the music. You're from the '80s, aren't you?”

“Right.” Whistling, Michael danced down the corridor. Harrison listened. “What?” Michael turned around.

“Swan Lake, if I'm not mistaken? That's definitely it. Someone's been here since the 19th century?” Harrison closed his eyes and walked toward the sound.

“I can't hear anything,” Michael whispered loudly, putting his palms to his mouth. “The Arcade is waiting for us.”

“It's definitely music.” Harrison turned down a narrow corridor. The soft, gentle melody was becoming clearer and clearer. It was coming from the darkness

“Okay, you're right. The music's playing, but you can't go in there. It's dangerous.” Michael swore and caught up with the boy. “Stop.” Michael appeared in front of him in a flash and spread his arms. Harrison stepped through him and peered cautiously into the dark, empty room, a shadow stretching from his feet. To a quiet tune, a mechanical ballerina was twirling in the semi-darkness there. Growing bolder, Harrison leaned against the door arch. The ballerina spun and spun, oblivious to the casual onlooker. “Leave,” Michael exhaled in his ear. Harrison shook his head negatively. “It's dangerous as hell.”

“Her dance is beautiful,” Harrison whispered softly.

“It's not beautiful.” Michael snorted. “It's ugly. You've simply never seen a beautiful ballet. At least put the mask down, you suicide,” he whispered with some anger in his voice.

The light scraping ceased, the ballerina stopped and froze, turning her face with glassy eyes toward the entrance. Harrison quickly hid around the corner and pulled the mask over his face under Michael's gaze.

“Michael,” the animatronic ballerina creaked. “Where have you been?”

“None of your business, tin can!” Michael barked. “Let's get out of here.” Michael lowered his voice. “Let's go before it's too late.” He pursed his lips.

“Michael, where are you?” The ballerina creaked.

Michael retreated into the darkness of the corridor. The gloom hid his ghostly light, dissolved the outlined line of his cheekbones, his eyes flashed and went out. Harrison hurried after him.

“Michael, son, don't leave!” the ballerina creaked like a squealing string. Through her glassy eyes Harrison saw the ballerina's gaze wander. Then she lowered her head, closed her eyes and began to twirl again. Alone in the dark.

“Is she your mother?” Harrison shouted into the nowhere. Blue eyes flashed out of the darkness, the outline of a face emerged, and a moment later, all of Michael appeared in front of Harrison.

“Are you kidding me?” Michael slumped. “That thing?” He nodded behind Harrison. “That monster doesn't resemble my mom even close.” He jerked his chin up. “Are we going to play?”

Harrison nodded silently.

“My mom,” Michael grumbled. “Nonsense. Mom's lucky she's not stuck here with us…”

“Michael!”

The ghost flew up, disappeared into the ceiling and came back. “Why the hell are you yelling?”

“I'm sorry. Who else is here?”

“What are you talking about? I don't understand.” Michael looked embarrassed.

“You do.” Harrison narrowed his eyes. “You said your mom is lucky not to be stuck here with you. So?”

“That's it. Mom's not here.”

“But who is? Michael! You're not the only ghost. Who's here? If you don't want to tell me, I'll find out for myself.” Harrison stopped. “I see ghosts, remember?”

Michael hovered in the air, frowning at the boy.

“I'm serious, Michael. Who's stuck here? Is they the reason you're staying in this damn place? Show them to me. Maybe they're lonely, too. Let's all play together. Michael!” Harrison sighed and turned away. “I guess I'll just have to find them myself.”

“Evan's here,” Michael said. “My brother. But I don't talk to Evan.”

“You should.”

“No, that's a bad idea. Let's go play!”

“Do you see him a lot?

Michael ran his hand over his face. “Get out of here! Go wherever you want!”

“You show me your brother, and you and I will go to the Arcade. Or I leave, find him myself, no matter how long it takes, and talk to him about you. And then we'll find you. And don't breathe so heavily, ghosts don't breathe. Let's go see your brother!”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Michael made a few circles around the hallway and flew toward Harrison, bringing his face so close that Harrison could feel the chill on his skin. “I'll show you my brother, but…” His finger went through Harrison's chest. “We watch him from cover. You won't go near him and you won't talk to him. And,” Michael's eyebrows shifted in a menacing mask, “if you keep prying into my past, I'll leave you to the animatronics. They enjoy killing! They enjoy fear! They love the smell of fear! You know why? It makes them feel alive!”

The boy was smaller than Michael. He was a skinny teenager with huge eyes, who didn't fit into this world of dark and dusty basement corridors. The boy floated slowly above the floor, his eyes wandering aimlessly, his thin shoulders twitching as if he were sobbing or afraid.

“Stay down,” Michael whispered. Harrison nodded, remaining in a quite uncomfortable position. Both boys had taken cover behind a pile of crumpled cardboard boxes, and Harrison had to squat, balancing and craning his neck to watch Michael's brother through the foggy glass of the fox mask Michael had urged him to wear.

“He's pretty lonely. And sad.”

“I know.” Michael looked away. “But… I wanted to talk to him.” Michael stared at the hovering boy, his lips pursed into a stern line, and pain flickered in his gaze. “Evan was killed by Freddy. It bit his head. They say you can live without a frontal lobe, but not in this case. Evan was afraid of animatronics more than anything. They put him in the jaws of that bear. For fun. The laughter turned to silence. Harrison, did you ever hear silence ringing?” He lowered his head. “Do you know the feeling when you'd give anything to rewind time back a few seconds? A stupid joke kills you both. The victim and the joker. And no almond tree can help. We should go, Harrison. Let's leave Evan to his grief.”

Harrison recoiled. Another cloud popped out of the wall – a girl in a denim overall. Evan gasped and backed away.

“A ghost is afraid of a ghost.” The girl laughed, her cocky pigtails shaking with laughter.

“Gaby,” the boy exhaled. “I'm not afraid of ghosts, I'm afraid of you.”

“Are you saying I'm scarier than Fritz? Cassidy? Your family?” She leaned toward him and tutted her tongue.

“What do you want?” The boy pouted, shoving her with his ghostly hands.

Harrison ducked even lower, hiding behind the peeling plastic.

“I want to join the fun. You're sitting here alone like a badger in a hole.” The girl wrinkled her nose.

“Thanks. I already had my fun. Back in the day.” Evan sighed heavily.

“Come on, we've all been through pain. Forget it! Join us.” She whispered in a seductive voice, “There's those visitors… Ugh, I wish I could get to them. They're biting back. They ripped Chica's hands off. What am I supposed to do now?! Fritz and I are waiting for you.” She jumped up, flipped in the air and disappeared.

“No way,” the boy mumbled and strode away, his head down.

Harrison raised the mask to his forehead and quickly lowered it. “Cocky Pigtails” appeared in front of him. And at the same moment the boy felt a chill, as if he had been doused with cold water. Michael, not choosing his path or caring about his friend's comfort, rushed to the girl right through Harrison, pulling her aside.

“Miiichael,” the girl drawled. “Will you join us? Or are you too busy?” She craned her neck, looking at Harrison. “Who do we have here? Under the Mangle mask? Huh? Miiiichael, are you up to something?”

“I'm not up to anything. Go away!” Michael swam in front of the girl, preventing her from getting a good look at his friend.

“Don't worry, I won't be here long. Fritz is waiting for me.” She winked at Michael. “And for you, too.” The girl disappeared.

Michael advised emotionally, despairing when he lost and rejoicing when he won. The boy's eyes sparkled, he seemed oblivious to his brother, and Harrison played game after game for Michael's amusement. Finally, Michael enjoyed the games, too quickly by Harrison's reckoning (though Harrison didn't mind, the machine games were too primitive).

“What did I tell you?! Michael knows how to have fun!” Michael leaned against the machine. “Are you hungry? Do you want some pizza? What am I talking about? Of course you do. A snack, and then…” He turned around, picking a game. “Pac-Man.”

“Nooo.” Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Yeeeah. What can I get you? Coffee or a coke?”

“Both.”

“Hmm, okay. I wonder how I'm going to carry this.” Michael floated over to the podium, draped in a curtain. “I'll be quick. You stay here.”

“In the Pirate's Cove? There was an animatronic standing here. What if he shows up?”

“He won't. Until dawn, the cove is yours alone.” He flew up, somersaulted and disappeared into the ceiling, but returned the next second with his head hanging from the ceiling. “Just in case, don't take your mask off.” And disappeared again.

“It's getting boring.” Preston yawned. “We're just wasting time.”

“Yeah, Dolph, what are you looking for?” Max took a pile of papers out of the closet and threw them on the floor. “Ew, cockroach.” He squatted down. The cockroach rustled over the leaf and hid under the cabinet. Max picked up a yellowed folder.

“Some cameras don't work.” Dolph put his feet on the edge of the table and rocked back in the chair. “The bear hasn't left the locker room, now sitting against the wall. Chica's standing in the north hall. And that Bonnie's running around the basement like a rabbit from a Duracell commercial. I don't see where that thing from the vents is crawling. Nor do I see the little bastard who stole my watch.”

“What about Foxy?” Preston's sprawled out on the table. “Foxy from the Pirate's Cove. That kid told you that Foxy wanders around at night.”

“I don't see him wandering. The kid could be lying. Or he's wandering in blind spots. I don't see Harrison or Nurf.”

“What does that mean?” Preston fluttered his eyelashes. “That they're dead?”

“It means Dolph can't see them.” Max stood up and, to Dolph's displeasure, tossed the dusty folder onto the keyboard. “Police report.” Max flipped the page, and the cover sheet crumbled in his hand. “The kid, troublemaker like our Nurf, was a nuisance to the pizzeria management.” Max's finger pointed at the blurred letters under the black-and-white photo of a boy about 13-15 years old with a defiant look. “Misbehaving in the pizzeria, bullying the staff. They even called the police. And then the kid went missing. Disappeared, tracks back to the pizzeria. Police questioned the management, searched the place. Nothing. Disappeared without a trace.”

“Did the animatronics kill him?” Preston jumped off the table.

“Children are easier to kill.” Dolph shrugged and flicked the folder to the floor.

“No empathy in you.” Max snorted. “The kid's name is Fritz, by the way. An Aryan like you.”

“Not a fact.” Dolph didn't seem embarrassed. “Why do we need this information, Max?”

“Where do you think Fritz went?”

“I have no idea. I'm more interested in why the police report is here and not in the police archives.”

“Hmm,” Max scratched his chin, “you don't have much empathy, Dolph, but you ask the right questions. It looks like the animatronics are killing for a reason. We need to get out and search the areas with inoperable cameras. Avoiding the north hall and the locker room.”

Lights flicker, the lamps went out, and the doors start to rise noisily.

“Wh-what's going on?” Preston whispered.

“The voltage's spiking,” Max's voice said. “I guess. Anyway, let's go.”

“You said she was in the north corridor,” Preston whispered and pressed himself against the wall. Chica and Bonnie met at the fork under the flickering lamp. Dolph pursed his lips and put his hand on his belt while Max glumly watched the animatronics from the darkness. The massive figures couldn't make out the narrow corridor and, busy with each other, hadn't noticed the campers yet.

“Argh!” spread through the corridors, and the echo picked up and amplified the growl. “The captain needs a hand! But… you're out of the game!”

The two animatronics parted, hiding each around their own corner, and between them appeared the fox from the Pirate Cove, an animatronic wearing a pirate hat. The fox's elongated face turned to Bonnie, and then to Chica.

“You too.” The fox lifted a hand and pulled the blindfold off his eye with a hook, glass glinted, and a red sensor flashed in the depths. The fox took a step forward and stared into the dark corridor where the three boys were hiding. A sharp ear peeked out from under his hat and twirled like a locator.

“Don't panic, he's far away,” Max said. “Let's retreat calmly. They can't catch up with uuuus–”

Max's eyes went wide, the words frozen on his tongue. Foxy was approaching rapidly. Too fast for a massive animatronic. From the sound of his footsteps, Preston was already sprinting down the corridor, heading back to the security console. Dolph retreated, fumbling for his belt.

“Shit!” Dolph cursed and grabbed his flashlight. The beam of light slashed across the fox's eyes, and the blinded animatronic froze. Without a word, Dolph and Max ran down the corridor. “I lost my gun,” Dolph exhaled.

“Crap,” Max wheezed.

The lights flickered off, and the lamps turned on with a slight hum, casting a bright bluish glow down the corridor.

“The voltage's definitely spiking.” Max slowed down. Preston was retreating down the corridor, huddled against the wall. When he saw the boys, he pressed himself even more firmly against the wall and let Max pass.

Blocking almost the entire corridor, at the open door to the security console stood Freddy himself, a faded advertising poster of which lonely adorned the wall at the entrance to the security office. The brown bear with a bow tie of unknown color on his neck turned his voluminous body and tilted his head in anticipation.

“Between two fires,” Dolph muttered and turned around, but Foxy was no longer following them. Dolph searched his pockets again; there was no gun. After catching his breath, Max headed straight for Freddy and tried to squeeze past him.

“Max!” Preston shouted at him.

“This one's harmless,” Max said. “Holy–” A metal hand pushed him against the wall, pinning him tightly against it. Max felt the taste of blood in his mouth, his scraped cheek aching. The hand grabbed him, scratching his back. Max groaned and clenched his teeth. The bear was lifting him up, Max's feet no longer reaching the floor. Dolph clung to Max, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him toward himself. Max twitched frantically, like a hooked fish, and, leaving the tattered hoodie in the robot's hand, he broke free, falling to the floor. Dolph pulled him away from the legs of the clumsy animatronic.

As all three campers disappeared around the corner, Max caught his breath.

“Why the fuck did you go to him?” Dolph asked angrily.

“He seemed harmless. He was talking to Neil last night. Kicked you, though. But you know, I'd rather have a kick in the ass than a hook up my ass. I don't fucking know why he pounced on me.”

“Fuck.” Dolph was freaking out, kicking an empty box in emotion. “Because he's a fucking animatronic. Okay.” The boy smoothed his hair. “What's the plan?”

“I don't fucking know.” Max ripped off his torn sleeve. “Here's the strategy: bypass all animatronics and all noise sources. And look for Nurf and Harrison. Agreed?”

Dolph nodded. Preston whimpered softly, huddled in a corner.

“Preston?” Max gave the boy a hand. Preston stood up. “Can you keep looking?”

“I'm not sure.” Preston sobbed. “But we have to find the boys.”

“Then pull yourself together.” Max patted him on the shoulder.

“You're not alone.” Dolph nodded. “We'll make it.”

When he heard the footsteps, Harrison rushed to the curtain, burst inside the cove and frantically pulled the mask down over his face, pulling out a few tangled hairs. Heavy footsteps approached, Harrison held his breath. There was silence. With a jerk, the curtain pulled aside, and a cloud of dust rose. A tall black and white puppet appeared in front of Harrison.

“What are you doing here?” The puppet tilted her head, looming over the boy from the height of her height.

“Uh. I was promised that if I stayed quiet, everything would be okay. Guess I didn't succeed in that.” Harrison huddled against the side of the ship, his hand fumbling around on the floor. Never finding anything, Harrison resigned himself to it.

“No one comes to Foxy's place, that's true.” The puppet reached out long fingers to Harrison and removed the mask. “You don't need this. I can see you. I'm not like the others. You don't need to hide anymore. Come with me, I'll lead you out.”

The marionette stepped back and twitched on invisible strings in a strange dance.

“I'd rather wait for Michael.” Harrison pulled his knees up to his chin.

“Michael?” The marionette fell, turning into a pile of rags as if her puppeteer had cut the strings. And stretched out in front of the boy again. “Did Michael tell you to hide in the cove?”

Harrison nodded. “He'll be back soon.”

“That's interesting.” The puppet sat down across from the boy, her long legs tucked under her. “Where's Michael coming back from?”

“Who are you?” Harrison narrowed his eyes.

“Marionette.”

“Who's in the marionette? Program or a ghost?”

“Who am I?” The striped doll put the fox mask to her face. “I wish I knew who I am. Masks attach themselves and become part of you. You should leave. The living don't belong here.”

“Why do animatronics kill?” Harrison blurted out.

The puppet lowered the mask. “If it was only animatronics that killed. Have you met an engineering technician upstairs named Henry Emily? He's supposed to be testing new animatronics, troubleshooting problems. Have you met him? A man with kind eyes. He has a brooch, a clover leaf, here.” She touched her chest.

“Sorry.” Harrison shrugged. “I'm not a frequent visitor to the Pizzaplex. Do you want me to find him? Why?”

The puppet nodded. “Tell him that Charlie was killed by his friend.”

“Who?”

“Charlie, his daughter. His friend killed her with his own hands.” The Marionette held her palms out in front of her. “Not an animatronic. His friend.”

“I get it. How do you know that?”

“I saw it. I rushed to help his daughter, but it was too late… And…” The Marionette stood up. “I'm Charlie. Oh, Michael, hi.” The puppet turned away. Harrison looked out of his hiding place. Michael was hovering above the floor with a rather disgruntled look. “I was entertaining your friend while you weren't here. Interesting mask.” She hung the mask on the “Pirate Cove” sign. “Mangle. Right? Are you up to something, Michael? No?”

Michael flashed his blue eyes.

“Don't do it, Michael,” the Marionette said sadly. “Don't. Let Mangle remain empty.” The Marionette raised her hands, as if the puppeteer had remembered her again, and disappeared down the corridor.

“What did she tell you?” Michael pursed his lips into a stern line.

“Nothing.” Harrison shook his head. “She offered to help me, to get me out of here. I didn't accept.”

“Good.” Michael's face brightened. “It's best not to trust anyone. Marionette's not the worst option, but you shouldn't talk to animatronics. Come on, there's pizza and drinks around the corner. I'm a ghost, I can't bring it.” He floated out into the hallway.

“Wait, how did they get here?” Harrison followed him. “A courier?”

“It's a secret.” Michael hovered in the air. On the floor lay a box exuding the delicious smell of pizza, on top of it stood a can of Coke and a glass of coffee. “Enjoy!”

“It tastes good.” Harrison sipped his coffee. “Too bad you can't try it.”

“I don't even want to. Besides, you're eating with such gusto that there won't be anything left for me.” Michael smirked. “I was thinking–”

“Do you want me to stay?” Harrison finished his coffee and set the cup against the wall. “Stay here with you? Forever?”

“What?” Michael flew up and down, his eyes glittering. “No! I thought it was time for you to leave!”

“You think so?” Harrison raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Is it bad if I stay? We can play new games. I'll have to get some… But I'd have to die for that. And become Mangle?”

“Stop it! That's…” Michael pursed his lips. “Death by animatronic isn't easy. I've experienced it firsthand. It's pain and fear. To be the victim of Foxy's butchering. No! Absolutely not! Mangle will be fine without you! And you're going to your world!”

“My world doesn't need me. Are you sending me back to that filthy world?”

“Yes, you're going to that filthy world that doesn't accept you! And you won't be able to bring any new gadgets. Cause Mangle doesn't have enough charge to go up there to get them. And you won't be able to play. Don't.” He lowered his head. “Live while you can. Death is not the answer! I wasn't exactly murdered, Harrison! I went to the killer myself. To test a hunch. I came so my little brother wouldn't be alone. But he's still alone. And I'm alone, too.”

“Michael.”

“Get out! Get your coke and your pizza and get outta here! Now!”

“Right now?”

“Didn't you notice the animatronics?”

“I did. I saw the rabbit. I have the mask and the Pirate Cove. And you'll protect me. Aren't you?”

The ghost had his back to the boy.

“Protect you from Bonnie? I'll protect you from Bonnie. Who's gonna protect you from me?” Michael turned around. “I'm much more dangerous. Get out of here! Down this hallway. Straight ahead, left and straight all the way to the exit. The service exit.” The ghost disappeared into the ceiling.

“Michael! Miiiichael! Hey! Miiiichael!”

No one answered Harrison.

The three spies were making their way to the far sector. According to Dolph, there was no transmission from there.

“I was right.” He pointed to the broken camera. “Blind spot.”

“I wonder why.” Max went first, followed by Dolf. In the middle of the expedition, Preston whimpered. The boy had given up from the strain. Trembling, Preston was constantly twitching at the sounds. There were plenty of them in the basement. Water dripping somewhere, old ceilings cracking, lamps humming.

“Hi.” Small feet stomped close by, and the boys didn't even realize it at once. After a moment, Dolph jumped up and pulled out his flashlight.

“Where are you, little shit?” Dolph shoved Preston aside and squeezed past Max. The beam of light slid across the floor and walls. It picked out a small figure in a colorful hat from the darkness and froze, as if it were trying to hold him in a spot of light. “Freeze, bitch! You won't get away! My watch! My gun!”

The little man ran away, clutching a screaming walkie-talkie to his chest. He couldn't escape the beam of light that seemed to capture the doll. Dolph ran after him. Behind Dolph was Max. At the end of the chase was Preston.

The doll turned the corner and jumped down the steps. Without stopping, he ducked into a doorless room. A pile of junk took up half of the small room. The doll ran over to the junkyard, shook the batteries out of the walkie-talkie with a satisfied “Hello,” tossed the disassembled walkie-talkie into the pile and, slipping between Dolph's legs, disappeared into the semi-darkness of the hallway.

“My watch.” Dolph shoved the flashlight into Preston's hands, dropped to his knees and began fumbling through the junk pile, tossing aside the doll's belongings.

Preston kicked away a chain with a heart pendant with the toe of his shoe. “Dolph, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Dolph?” The pile exploded, scattering junk. A beam of light raced across the room. “Dolf! Preston! Guys!” Nurf's face emerged from the pile.

“Nurf?” Preston hid behind Dolph. “Why did you bury yourself here?”

“I'm hiding.” Nurf fell and slid down the pile of stuff. “Those things…” The boy trembled. Preston noticed that Nurf's cheek was scraped and his shirt was soaked with dark blood. He smelled of blood, sweat and urine. “They wanted to kill me. They were killing me. That fox,” he sobbed, “it hung me on its hook. And then another fox came at me. A scary fox, hanging from the ceiling and snapping its teeth. Here.” He showed a laceration on his arm. “And then they wanted to put me in a spiked suit. Like… like in a torture museum. I escaped.” He nodded. “Escaped. From the fox, and from that demon in the box, and from…” He shivered and hiccupped. “From the rabbit. And then I hid here. I couldn't leave. I tried to get up the nerve. I really tried, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't. I don't know how long I was in there.”

“Twenty-four hours,” Max said sharply, leaning against the wall and watching the scene calmly. “You were there for more than a day.”

“Reeeally?” Nurf drawled in surprise. “I've lost track of time.”

“No wonder.” Preston looked pityingly at the boy. “Lying in the dark. We came back for you.”

“Really?” Nurf was surprised. “You got out? All of you?”

“Yesterday, all except you.” Dolph, no longer believing in the success of the search for the clock, lazily kicked a broken doll and got up. “But today… Someone's lost.”

“Harrison,” Max continued for Dolph. “Have you seen him?”

“I didn't see anyone. I heard footsteps. Human footsteps. I mean, not heavy.”

“When?” Max perked up. “Where did he go?”

“That way.” Nurf nodded, pointing in a direction that matched Dolph's guess. “I don't know when. I don't know who it was. Do you guys know how to get out of here? I want to go upstairs. Please.”

“What about Harrison?” Max pursed his lips.

“Maybe he got caught by animatronics,” howled Nurf. “We'll get caught, too. They're monsters–”

“Shut up!” Max cut him off. “We're not leaving without Harrison.”

“And my watch,” Dolph added.

Nurf howled even louder. “We're screwed!” The big guy burst into tears. “We're all dead!”

“Shut your mouth!” Max went out into the hallway. “I'm going after Harrison, you take him back.”

“I'm not leaving without the watch.” Dolph shook his head and looked sadly at the pile of junk.

“Me?” Preston turned pale. “I'm not going. There are animatronics out there.”

Nurf howled and howled, smearing dirt and blood on his cheeks.

“Shut up!” Dolph shouted. “I'll take you upstairs, and then I'll come back here to keep looking for my watch. I'll meet you back here!”

“Good!” Max nodded. “And take Preston with you.”

“No.” Dolph gave the boy an eloquent look. “I can't handle two hysterical girls. What if we run into animatronics? It's okay if it's regular ones, but what about that red sprinter?”

“I'll go with you, I promise not to get hysterical.” Preston sighed convulsively.

“Yeah, sure.” Dolph snorted. “As soon as you see someone, you'll run off again. And then I'll have to look for you all over the basement.”

“I'll keep my cool,” Preston urged.

“If you get hysterical, I'll leave you,” said Dolph, quite convincingly. “And if you run away with my flashlight, I'll find you and kick your ass. Understand?”

Preston opened his mouth in surprise, but quickly closed it and nodded.

“Come on.” Dolph shoved Nurf in the back. “Preston, if you see the fox, shine the flashlight in his eyes. In the fox's eyes. That way we'll have a chance.”

Max watched them until the trio had gone around the corner, and, trying not to make any noise, headed the other way.

Preston kept his promise and followed Dolph in silence, clutching the flashlight in his hands. Nurf was silent, too. Only sniffing noisily.

“Here we are.” Dolph opened the door. The hall of the Pizzaplex was in semi-darkness. Red light of neon advertising lights poured through the windows, and the stage with sleeping animatronics of the new generation glowed faintly.

Preston cheered up immediately as soon as they closed the basement door behind them.

“Let's take him to Vanessa.” Dolph strode confidently toward the familiar room.

“Pfft.” Preston rolled his eyes. “To Vanessa,” he mocked Dolph.

“What are your options?” Dolf stopped and patted his pockets. “Holy shit! That little asshole…”

“Language.” Preston pouted his lips.

“Why the fuck are you suddenly so soft? I got a right to be emotional, that prick stole my car keys. Motherfucker! Okay, now it's definite. You stay with Vanessa, and I'm going back for the keys, my watch and my gun.”

“And Harrison?” Preston fluttered his eyelashes.

“Of course.”

“Shit, Nurf, your blood is all over me.” Dolph looked at his clothes with disgust.

“Excuse me,” Nurf said sarcastically. The boy sat on the couch. There was a blanket over his shoulders, a cup of tea smoking in his hands. “It's not my fault I'm so weak. It's from dehydration.”

Preston collapsed at the table, lazily listening to the altercation.

Just as the boys came out of the basement, Nurf's legs gave out. Dolph dragged him all the way across the hall and then dumped him on the couch. Nurf rolled his eyes dramatically as Vanessa fussed over him. While Vanessa was prying into what had happened, Preston eyed the girl suspiciously, noting to himself that this was a suspicious security guard.

I mean, think about it, Preston thought to himself. Three (okay, two) blood-covered guys walk in on her in the middle of the night, one of them barely alive, and she calmly pours tea for them all. She settles for Dolph's terse explanation about killer animatronics. And she asks no questions. Why? A normal person wouldn't believe it. And yet she's making eyes at Dolph and wiggling her ass in front of him. It's disgusting to watch!

Preston turned away and stared at the screens. The Pizzaplex was asleep, only outside some cat on a walk had jumped on a bollard and started cleaning itself. Preston didn't react when Dolph took his flashlight from the table.

“Are you okay?” Dolph's hand rested on his shoulder.

“Compared to Nurf, yes, but de facto not.”

“I see.” Dolph headed for the exit.

Vanessa rushed after him: “Dolph, when will you come back?”

Dolph glanced at his empty wrist, sighed and looked at the wall clock. “A couple hours will be enough. We'll be back by six.”

He went out, Vanessa running out after him. Preston watched on the cameras as the guard hung onto Dolph, cuddled against his chest and ran her slender fingers over his cheek.

“I'm about to throw up.” He snorted. “This is unbearable. Disgusting. Ew! Is she pretty? No! She's not pretty. She's ordinary. But she acts like she's a beauty queen. Like a goddamn top model! Alright! That's enough!” Preston jumped up and opened the door. “Dooolph!!!”

The couple froze and turned to him. Preston shoved Vanessa away and pulled Dolph to the side. Confused, Vanessa followed them. Preston turned over his shoulder, flashing her a baleful glare, and whispered angrily into Dolph's face, “Max and Harrison are down there in trouble, and you're chilling here. Damn lover boy! When I get out of here, I'll report it properly to your dad. I'm gonna tell him everything!”

“You won't get out.” Dolph pursed his lips. “If you don't shut up.”

“Dolph, you didn't write down my number,” Vanessa said.

“I memorized it.”

“Ah!” Preston recoiled and fell into Dolph's arms.

“Don't overplay it,” Dolph pushed him away.

“Ttttthere,” Preston was shaking, his finger pointing behind Dolph's back. Vanessa shrieked. Dolph pushed Vanessa behind himself in one motion, Preston hanging on his arm.

At the entrance to the security room, stood a massive animatronic, a dirty yellow bear with a sideways shifted hat, bristling with tattered wires. Bright red sensor dots glowed in the depths of its glassy, empty eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dolph muttered. The bear opened its mouth, raised a golden hand and saluted the company. Preston staggered. The bear's hand and chest were covered with scarlet blood. The bear turned around and walked sedately across the hall toward the basement. Vanessa slid to the floor and cried hard, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Preston was shaking like a fever.

Dolph lifted the girl up with a jerk. “Calm down! Stay here! Okay? Preston!”

The boy nodded, and Dolph raced toward the security room, looking for the bear. The animatronic seemed to have vanished, only the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the Pizzaplex. Dolph opened the door with a jerk and froze, looking away. He didn't hurry back to Vanessa and Preston. He walked over slowly and ran his hand over his face.

“We're in trouble.” He squeezed his eyes shut. And stopped Vanessa by the arm. “Don't go inside. There's blood everywhere. Call the police.”

“Nurf?” Preston said faintly.

Dolph shook his head negatively and bit the edge of his lip.

Immersed in his own thoughts, Harrison noticed his disadvantage too late. And he regretted that he had so unwisely left his disguise mask there in the Pirate Cove. Harrison didn't hear footsteps. Apparently, the animatronic was waiting for him, setting up an ambush. Emerging from the darkness as an unexpected threat, the one-armed purple rabbit cut off Harrison's escape routes, trapping him in a corner. Clawing at his throat, the one-armed bandit pressed the boy into the wall. Harrison heard his bones cracking and mentally said goodbye to his life. He tried to concentrate and push the creature away with an energy blast. To no avail. Either the animatronic's mass was too great, or he couldn't concentrate from lack of oxygen. Harrison did manage something, though. The animatronic's head burst into flames and smelled like burnt plastic. It didn't stop the rabbit, but Harrison's eyes went black from the choking smoke. The boy was on the verge of fainting. His name rang in his ears, and Harrison came to his senses. Max was hanging on the rabbit's arm. With his feet against the wall, Max pulled the metal hand away. Harrison kicked his legs in search of a foothold. The arm unclenched, Harrison fell to the floor. The animatronic tossed Max aside, hitting him against the wall. Max slowly stood up, rubbing his head. The rabbit turned back to Harrison. And a red whirlwind knocked the rabbit to the ground. The scraping of metal and the rumble of thunder hit the eardrums.

“Crazy… fox! Watch… where you're… running!” The rabbit rumbled raggedly. The one-armed animatronic clumsily twitched on its back like an overturned turtle and tried to get up. The rabbit was doing poorly.

Harrison stood up, holding onto the wall. Foxy stood over the rabbit and turned sharply toward Max, flashing a red sensor. The boy clenched his fists, glaring glumly at the fox. A strand of hair fell over his eyes, a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone. Not interested in Max, the fox was instantly beside Harrison. Harrison slammed into the wall. The animatronic loomed over him, his hooked hand came up and with a sharp movement left a shallow cut on Harrison's cheek, and then Foxy disappeared into the hallway as a red whirlwind.

The rabbit was twitching noisily on the floor.

“Couldn't make that rabbit disappear, did you?” Max gave Harrison a shoulder to lean on. “Hurry us, Dolph is waiting for us. I had no idea animatronic foxes hunted animatronic rabbits.”

“No, Preston, no! There's a bunch of police cars!”

Dolph's nervous voice echoed through the corridors and they could hear it before they even turned the corner. Max frowned, nodded to Harrison, and the boys sped up. At the appointed place, Dolph was already waiting for them. Contrary to their agreement, he was there along with Preston.

“Harrison?” Preston turned around. “Are you okay?”

Harrison nodded and forced a smile.

“What happened?” Max squinted at Dolph. The boy was sitting against the wall with his hands on his head.

“I…” He stood up. “I failed. I didn't keep Nurf safe.”

“What?” Harrison rounded his eyes. “How?”

“Fuck.” Max pursed his lips.

“Stop it, Dolph, it wasn't our fault.” Preston put a hand to his forehead and turned back to the boys. “Dolph and I took Nurf to the security guard. The golden bear killed Nurf while he was already there. It's all the guard's fault. She should have kept an eye on Nurf instead of wiggling her ass and making eyes.”

“It's not about Nurf! I mean, it is! We can't go upstairs.” Dolph jumped up. “Max is covered in blood, and so am I. I've got Nurf's blood on me. They'll arrest us!”

“I'm covered in my own blood.” Max furrowed his brow.

“It doesn't matter.” Dolph dismissed it. “They'll say that those two,” Dolph's finger poked Preston's chest and then Harrison's, “that Nurf was bullying hired you and me–”

“Hired you?” Preston was indignant. “We don't have any money.”

“Oh, please, there's a lot of ways to pay. Oh, shit. “Dolph was nervous, pacing from side to side. “Not only are my gun with my fingerprints somewhere down there, and there are my prints in the room where the animatronic killed Nurf, but there's also my biological material on the couch.”

“What biological material?” Max's eyes widened.

“Well, I didn't want Vanessa asking me for child support.”

“Fuck, why did I even ask?”

“They'll say that you and I killed him, and then I jerked off on the couch.” Dolph stared into the void. “Anyway, all the evidence points to us.”

“Why us?” Max smirked. “On you.”

“What?” Dolph batted his eyelashes.

“Everyone knows that Nurf bullied Preston. We'll say Preston's your boyfriend. You took Nurf away alive.” Max curled his lips in a smirk. Dolph looked quite confused.

“There's a service exit.” Harrison intervened. “We'll leave the pizzeria unnoticed, and then we'll decide what to do next.”

“I think Dolph's overthinking it.” Preston shook his head. “No one's going to blame us. The golden bear was covered in blood. And your passion, Dolph, is obviously hiding something.”

🍕 🍕 🍕

The orange morning light poured through the cloudy panes of the kitchen window, dust swirling in the rays.

Dad's hiding something. Liz sighed and sipped her tea. William hid behind the newspaper and never looked at his daughter the entire breakfast. Missing child. Jeremy Fitzgerald, Liz read quickly.

“I don't understand how this works,” Dad grumbled and tossed the paper on the table. He got up, never touching his breakfast.

Liz was left alone at the table, in the company of four empty chairs. The front door slammed. Through the cloudy glass, Liz saw him get into his car and drive away.

“Good morning, Liz,” a mechanical voice creaked. A doll in a tutu and with her eyes closed walked into the kitchen, picked up the dishes from the table and unloaded them into the sink. “How's school going?”

“Don't talk to me,” Liz exhaled. “I remember you looking different, Mimic.”

Liz noisily got out from behind the table, opened the refrigerator and started picking out groceries.

“I'm Ballora.”

Liz shivered. The doll's unnaturally closed eyes were frightening. Avoiding looking at the animatronic, the girl diligently gathered a package for her brother who had run away from home.

“So you always danced and did housework? You don't do it well, by the way. The house is dirty and your porridge is disgusting.”

The doll was silent. She froze at the sink. The water rumbled from the faucet. A fly was hitting the window, and a bird chirped from the street. Liz tied the package and turned to the doll.

“You'll never be my mom, Mimic. You're just a robot. Copying everything you see. You copied Mom. And before that, you killed a traveling salesman. Because you take things literally. Don't you remember? I do. He said: ‘Сross my heart and hope to die.’ And you turned his ‘hope’ into reality. Dad thought it was funny, but I didn't. And you scared Evan. And Michael had a fight with Dad because of you. Henry thought you should be deactivated. Why am I even talking to you?” Liz waved her hand and stormed out of the kitchen. She walked out of the house, squinting blindly into the sunlight, and picked up a magazine for Michael from the mailbox.

The path to Michael's new hideout, a skewed abandoned house, lay through a wasteland and a winding alley. Liz had only once seen her brother's shadow glimpsed in Evan's bedroom. And she'd followed him. Michael didn't show himself to Liz, didn't answer her calls, but he took the packages. He needs time. He'll be back. He needs time. He'll be back. If not today, then tomorrow. And they'll live as a happy family again. With an animatronic mom. Maybe Dad will make an animatronic Evan.

Liz dropped the package on the doorstep and started on her way back. The wind ruffled her blond hair, and road dust covered her feet. She stopped at the entrance to the house, the silhouette of Ballora flickering through the kitchen window. Liz hesitated and turned toward the garage.

Opening the heavy doors, Liz peered inside. A long shadow stretched down to the legs of a doll, a huge adorably beautiful doll called Baby. Liz thought that Dad had made the doll for her. After all, not even Henry knows about Baby. But Will had forbidden to go near Baby, and Liz had been sneaking around in Dad's absence to admire the animatronic.

“Hi, Baby.”

“Hi.” The doll's heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted.

“Dad's gone and I'm bored.” Liz shifted from foot to foot. “And there's Mimic. I mean Ballora. I hate Ballora. She's not Mom.” Liz sat down with her legs tucked under her. “Mom. It's all her fault. She left us. She must have gone to that military guy.” Liz bit her lip. “To my real dad. No.” She shook her head, her blond curls spreading over her shoulders. “No, my dad's Will. It's because of Mom that he stopped loving me.”

Liz picked up a twig and began drawing shapes on the sandy garage floor.

“I'll tell you a secret, Baby. It'll be our girlie secret. Mommy was in love with someone else. I found her diary under the closet. My game ball rolled under there. Yeah, I read it. You know what was in it? A date with some handsome guy. One date, and then he disappeared. And Mom couldn't get over him. And the whole diary was one big declaration of love. I showed it to Dad, and Dad got upset. He and Mom had a long fight. And in the morning, Mom was gone. Dad said she'd left. And a cherry tree had appeared in the yard. Henry wondered why Dad had turned into a gardener. Mom left without saying good-bye. And Michael thinks Mimic killed Mom and Dad buried her under the cherry tree. But that's silly.”

Liz twisted the twig in her hands and threw it away, then stood up and erased the drawings with her foot.

“It turned out I wasn't his real daughter, and Dad started treating me differently. I'm lonely, Baby. Mom's gone, Dad ignores me, Michael ran away, Evan's dead.”

“Baby can play with you.” The doll fixed on the platform tried to take a step, but couldn't. She just held out her hands to the girl, sensors flashing and clicking in her eyes.

“Dad said I shouldn't come near you.”

“Doesn't your dad want me to take you to Evan? Dad will be delighted if you find Evan.” The doll lowered her arms. “And Dad will praise you if his smart daughter can figure out animatronics. Just like Michael, even better.”

“What does it take?” Liz's eyes lit up.

“I don't know. Let me think.” She put her finger to her lips and closed her eyes. “Try hugging me.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. But that's what Michael did. And your dad.”

“It's weird.”

“I'm Circus Baby. I don't know. But it helped them understand me.”

Liz, hesitating, on rubbery legs walked over to the doll.

“Hugging you? Did Michael do that? And Dad?”

The doll opened her arms. Liz hugged the doll, pressing her cheek against the cold metal, the mechanism inside the doll whirring. The metal arms squeezed Liz, knocking the air out of her lungs. The girl exhaled and closed her eyes. She couldn't inhale again.

Chapter Text

Nerris turned away from the window. The car stopped in front of the Pizzaplex.

“Thanks for talking your parents into taking me with you, Ered.” Nerris wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “It's horrible. I would have died of fright at the camp while I waited for that bus.”

“It's okay, Nerris.” Ered pulled out her AirPod, looked at her friend and put it back in her ear.

“Right,” one of Ered's dads turned to look back, “don't worry about it. We'll get you home. Only first, we'll pay Mr. Campbell a visit.”

“He crossed the line.” Her other dad glared at the entrance. “I wouldn't be surprised if the old bugger's already escaped. What was he thinking? He'd bought out that suspicious Pizzaplex, get the old campers together and massacre them.”

“Wwwhat?” Nerris squirmed in her seat. “Massacre?”

“It's figurative,” the first fed hurried to reassure her. “It was an accident. He didn't take care of the visitors' safety. Wait in the car, we'll be quick.” He nodded to the second fed. “Let's see what's going on in there.”

Both of Ered's dads got out of the car, their daughter followed them out with a glance and leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes and singing along to the song playing. Nerris stared out the window. It had been raining all day, turning the roads into rivers. Streams ran down the window, the rain murmuring monotonously.

The door opened, bringing a fresh smell, the rain sounding like a waterfall. The car swayed.

“So fast?” Nerris turned and opened her eyes wide. The color drained from her face. With a grinding and rumbling sound, the driver's seat flew out of the car. A golden bear peered inside.

12 hours ago.

The four boys sprinted out into the deserted street and, hiding behind dense bushes, crept toward the forest. The morning freshness was unpleasantly cold on their skin, and the fog settled on their clothes and hair.

The boys walked silently into the woods and stopped without a word. Preston leaned his back against the smooth trunk of a leafy tree. The wind howled high above, intensifying. Dolph paced from side to side, kicking trees and tearing his hair. Harrison squatted by a fallen tree, chewing thoughtfully on a blade of grass. Max looked glumly at the group. A few seconds.

“Dolph, stop darting around!” Max couldn't take it anymore. “What happened to Nurf?”

“I already told you. The golden bear tore him apart. Literally, in the fucking sense of that fucking expression! In pieces! It's no longer Nurf, it's a fucking construction set!”

“Where were you at the time?” Max kept interrogating him.

“I went to you,” Dolph said, stressing each word. “And that stupid lady ran out after me.”

“That lady?” Max nodded at Preston.

“Fuck you.” Preston took offense.

“The guard lady! Instead of guarding Nurf, she ran after me, like a lovesick fool.”

“Good thing I followed you,” Preston spoke up, the boy shuddering. “Or I'd have been…” ha swallowed hard, “a construction set, too.”

“Why did you follow them?” Max furrowed his brow.

“I couldn't stand to see them cooing.” Preston wrinkled his nose. “We were in a catastrophic situation, and they're playing lovers.”

“We're not lovers.” Dolph's gaze was arrogant. “I didn't know how to get rid of her.”

“I see.” Max lowered his eyes. “What about you, Harrison?”

“What about me?” The boy snapped out of his musings.

“What were you doing before we found you?”

“You wouldn't believe it.”

“Still…”

“Hanging out with a ghost.”

“You're right, I don't believe it.”

Heavy drops fell to the ground, the rain rustled through the leaves, quickly turning into a downpour. And soon the storm hit the forest.

“We have to find shelter.” Max looked around, the young trees with sparse crowns bending in the wind.

“That house will do. The one on the hill.” Dolph shielded his eyes from the rain with his palms.

“Do you think the owners will be happy to see us?” Max seemed even glummer when wet, his clothes clinging to his body.

“There are no owners there.” Without waiting for his friends' approval, Dolph headed up the slippery slope toward the lonely house. “The grass is all around the house, and there isn't even a trampled path. And in the window, look,” he pointed his finger at a distant window, “there's a dusty curtain on the broken rod. The house is abandoned.”

“How did you even see that?” Max narrowed his eyes.

“Besides,” Dolph sped up, “the second floor windows have a good view of the Pizzaplex. We'll wait inside until the commotion dies down.”

Harrison only now felt how much the sleepless night had tired him out. He rubbed his eyes and yawned for a while while Dolph barricaded the door and curtained the windows, while Max checked the rooms of the mansion, and while Preston looted the homeowner's supplies, rattling the kitchen. A sudden clap wiped his drowsiness away. The explosion came from the kitchen, startling the uninvited guests. As it turned out, a can had exploded when Preston had tried to open it. Dolph was at Preston's side in a split second.

“It's rotten.” Preston wrinkled his nose and tossed the tin into the trashcan.

“I thought the cops broke in,” Dolph exhaled.

Harrison went up to the second floor, barely able to drag his feet with fatigue. Dolph and Preston were bickering downstairs. He pushed open the door and looked around the small bedroom, obviously belonging to a teenager. Selecting some clothes from the closet, he changed, throwing off his wet ones. Thunder rumbled outside the window, the sky was covered with leaden clouds, dark, flashes of lightning occasionally illuminating the room. Harrison pulled the covers to the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust, and climbed into bed. His heavy eyelids closed, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Harrison woke up feeling rested and stretched. He didn't know how much time had passed. The room had fallen into twilight, the rain tapping softly against the window. Harrison closed the curtains and turned on the light of the desk lamp. His stomach rumbled, and he tried to distract himself from his hunger. He examined himself in the cracked mirror. A tank top and tight jeans weren't the most comfortable clothes, but at least they were dry.

The walls of the room were covered with faded posters and the desk drawers were piled with comic books. Harrison pushed back the chair and sat down at the desk. And opened his eyes wide. Above the desk, a familiar boy was staring down from the pinned pictures. Harrison tore off one of them and scrutinized it under the lamp, then studied all the pictures for a long time. He snatched another one of two brothers fooling around in a clearing near the house, tucked it into the pocket of his borrowed jeans, turned off the light and left the hospitable bedroom.

On the first floor, the lights were on, Max and Preston talking, dishes clinking, and Harrison's stomach cramped again. He took his time coming downstairs. Opening door after door, the boy tried to feel the house and its former occupants. The rooms were silent. The large, deserted bedroom could have belonged to anyone; in the small bedroom, there were traces of a woman's presence: a dress on a chair, a table with cosmetics and magazines. And the other room was a child's room. With toys arranged on a shelf. On the edge of the bed, there was a teddy bear sitting all alone.

“Rice with honey is a perversion.” Dolph grimaced. “I'd rather have tea with sugar.”

“Suit yourself.” Preston took offense and looked up at Harrison. “Wanna have some rice porridge?” He narrowed his eyes. “What's your new friend's name?”

“Teddy Bear.” Harrison came downstairs, climbed up to the table and sat Teddy Bear on the edge of the table. As he stuffed himself with unpalatable, but edible rice, he watched the participants of the meal. Max could feel the boy's eyes on him, but kept silent.

“What's next?” Preston swayed in his chair. “We can't just sit here forever.”

“The pizza place is full of cars,” Dolph said glumly.

“Do you know who owns this house?” Harrison suddenly blurted out and gently stroked the bear's ear.

“I have an idea.” Max finally looked up. “Why?”

“Tell me your thoughts first.” Harrison looked at the old bear with the frayed purple bow around its neck.

“Dolph, tell him.” Max put his elbows on the table. Harrison looked at the faded toy with such pity and pain that Max felt uncomfortable.

“We found a bunch of blueprints in the study.” Dolph scratched the back of his head. “I can bring the box of evidence. It contains the blueprints for those nasty animatronics. I recognize them.” He noisily pushed back his chair and rushed into the next room.

“Interesting.” Harrison looked away from the bear. “So, we got to the citadel of evil. To the creator of those monsters.”

“Yeah, the owner of the house is a real nutcase.” Max finished his tea.

Dolph appeared with a cardboard box in his hands, which he put on the table with a rumble. “Here.” Dolph unfolded a roll on the table. “Freddy.”

“It's definitely that bastard.” Max squinted. The drawing clearly showed a bear.

“And this,” Dolph threw the drawing to the floor and unfolded the next one, “is Bonnie. There are others here, too. But this one…” Dolph rummaged through for a moment and unfolded a yellowed sheet. “Look, it's not just an animatronic.”

Harrison furrowed his brow and leaned closer.

“It's a suit,” Dolph said ominously. “There's a human inside. And I'm sure there's that maniac sitting in someone.” He straightened up. “The owner of this house, aka the designer of those creeps.”

“Do you think he controls the animatronics?” Preston wondered.

“At least one of them.” Dolph nodded.

“Is he even alive?” Harrison tilted his head.

“How can a dead man control them?” Dolph snorted.

“Like a ghost.” Harrison lowered his gaze.

“What are you talking about?” Max put his hands on the edge of the table. “Harrison, speak up.”

The boy took two pictures out of his jeans pocket and threw them on the table. Everyone leaned over it. “This is Michael.” He pointed to a scowling boy in a jean vest. “The ghost I've been hanging out with.”

Preston gasped and put his palm to his mouth.

“Yes, a ghost. I recognized him. The ghost is older than the boy in this photo is. But it's the ghost boy from the basement. And he lived here.”

“Michael?” Max pursed his lips. “Michael Afton?”

“I don't know,” Harrison shrugged. “Why?”

Preston looked at Max questioningly.

“I checked the mail. It's mostly magazine subscriptions.” Max sat back in his chair. “Who is this Michael guy?”

Harrison smiled enigmatically. “A good guy. A loner and a rebel. He's a lot like you, Max.”

“As we realized,” Dolph lowered the box to the floor, “there are four people in this family. The question is, where are they?”

“We know exactly where one of them is.” Preston sighed sadly. “I feel sorry for the boy. He was handsome.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Harrison agreed. “Michael's dead. He died at Foxy's hands. And now he had become Foxy himself. And this,” Harrison pointed his finger at the laughing boy in the photo, “is Evan, his younger brother. He's Freddy.”

Max jumped up. “What the hell is going on? Freddy?”

Harrison nodded. “The two of them are wandering around in the basement.”

“So the brother died, too.” Dolph pondered.

“Yes. From what Charlie told me, I think the souls of the dead get stuck in the animatronics.”

“Who told you that?”

“Charlie, the puppet. She asked me to tell her father, Henry Emily, the technician, that his friend killed her.”

“Fuck!” Max looked up. “I've seen the letters to William Afton from Henry Emily.”

“All right.” Dolph stood up and paced from side to side. “We can't stay here. This isn't an abandoned house, it's a maniac's lair. Afton senior might come home. Or his wife–”

“More likely his daughter,” Max interrupted. “The fourth member of the family is his daughter Elizabeth, according to the teenage magazines.”

“Michael hadn't mentioned his sister. But he did say something about his mother.” Harrison thought for a moment. “After some event that Michael had chosen to hide, an animatronic ballerina, a mechanical copy of Michael's mother, had appeared.”

“That's crazy.” Preston gasped.

“What do we even care about the Aftons?” Dolph didn't stop. “We have to get out of this mess.”

“Afton senior is a maniac. And that maniac killed Nurf, remember?” Max pondered.

“Right.” Dolph snapped his fingers. “I have to go back and get my weapon. Shit! I need an alibi.”

“I got an idea.” Preston smiled broadly. “They'll be looking for us, that's a fact. We'll say we ran away to get hotel rooms and have a romantic party. To make it believable, we'll rent hotel rooms for real and have a party. And we've never been to a pizza place.”

“Well.” Dolph thought for a moment. “Better than being wanted.”

“What about the fact that we were caught on cameras?” Max tilted his head.

“That's not us.” Preston waved him off. “We were having a romantic party. I'm with Dolph, you're with Harrison.”

“I agree.” Dolph nodded.

“You're an idiot.” Max snorted. “Everyone knows that Nurf was hitting on Preston. You're on a date, and Nurf is torn to shreds. Doesn't that sound suspicious at all? Harrison, who's in the other animatronics?”

“Gaby, Cassidy and Fritz.”

The boys exchanged glances.

“What?” Harrison looked up.

“We saw the missing person report on Fritz. Okay, we need to talk to that Henry technician. Or interrogate Vanessa. Or that kid, that weasel.”

“Or Michael, I have some questions for him.

“No.” Max narrowed his eyes. “We don't know what Michael's deal is. What's he's up to? You can't trust a ghost. You can't trust Foxy. We'll get the truth out of the guard and meet the maniac's friend, the technician.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Dolph frowned. “No need to interrogate Vanessa. She doesn't know anything. She was hired by the new owner. She knows the pizzeria has a bad reputation. And that the basement's full of glitchy machines. She doesn't know anything else, trust me.”

“What are you talking about? Guys, we already have a plan. I'm calling a hotel.” Preston turned on his cell phone. “Oh, voice mails from Neil.”

The boys quieted down, silence descending on the room. Preston turned on the recording.

“Where are you guys? Nikki's missing. She's been talking about some doll all day. Now she's gone. Everybody's looking for her. They called the police.”

“Hey! Answer me! There's something strange is happening. They're closing the camp. All the kids are going home tomorrow morning. Nikki's still gone! I think there's something they're not telling us.”

“Okaaay! I'm sick of this! Where are you?! They're looking for you too! Space Kid and I are coming to you! In the Quartermaster's pickup, so I'm whispering. Where the fuck are you? I'm not going in the fucking basement. We're waiting for you outside the pizza place. Get out, you dumb bitches!”

“My phone just died.” Preston sighed. “No chance to call a hotel.”

“Change of plan.” Max straightened up with determination. “We're going to the pizzeria before any more campers die.”

“We should scout out what's going on out there.” Dolph looked out of the thick shrubbery. “There are more cars at the entrance than there were this morning. That's the first task. The second is to find that asshole Neil.”

“Agreed.” Max nodded. “Let's split up. Dolph and I will quickly run to the entrance and go around the complex. You wait for us here. Understood?”

“Okay, okay.” Preston rolled his eyes. “Although my plan was better.”

“Harrison? You're waiting here, too.” Max stressed each word.

“Let's go.” Dolph waved his hand, and the boys, ducking to the ground, approached the plaza at the main entrance.

“Harrison, I see that look in your eyes.” Preston turned the boy toward himself. “What are you up to? Harrison!”

“There's something I need to do.” Harrison turned around to face the walls of the Pizzaplex. Crumpling the teddy bear in his hands.

“Wait for Max and Dolph!”

“No, I have to do it myself.” Harrison shoved the toy under his arm. “Don't worry. I'll be fine.”

“Harrison!”

“Stay here, Preston.” Harrison disappeared into the bushes.

“Harrison, come on.” Preston kicked a lump of earth. “Guys. Oh, what am I doing? I'm sitting alone outside the pizzeria. Just come and get. Oh!” He jumped out of the bushes. Harrison was nowhere to be seen. Running away from the entrance to the ominous basement, Preston went along the wall and turned the corner.

Dolph lay on the ground, Max ducked down. There were cops huddled around the car with the door ripped out. The rain was drizzling, and Max hunched his shoulders.

“Another one's been killed,” Dolph blurted out. “There's police and ambulance. What's going on out there? I think there's blood on the pavement.”

“I think we'll find out soon enough.” Max put his hand on his friend's shoulder and nodded toward the pizzeria. On the ledge of the second floor, hiding behind a chimney, a teenage boy was trying to open the window with a penknife.

“Isn't that…”

“Yes, that's him.”

Preston barely looked out from around the corner, backed up and sprinted back, speeding past the ill-fated back door and around the corner. It was quieter on this side of the pizzeria, and the bushes were thicker. Preston put his arms around his shoulders and walked along the wall.

“Preston!”

“What?” The boy stopped and narrowed his eyes. From a niche in the wall beneath the balcony, a boy emerged and waved at him. “Space Kid?”

Preston cheered and sped toward the camper. Squatting, with the funny gait of a duck, Neil came out from under the balcony.

“Guys!” Preston almost ran toward them. “I'm so glad I found you! My phone's dead. We should go back to the bushes. Max and Dolph are over there. But Harrison…” He shook his head.

“Save it for later, Preston.” Neil's face was troubled. He nodded toward his hiding place. “We have a serious problem.”

Preston ducked down. “Ered?!”

The girl huddled in the far corner. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. From top to toe, Ered was covered in blood. Speechless, Preston froze. Neil pushed him, and Preston crawled on all fours under the balcony.

When everyone was seated in a row, Neil adjusted his glasses. “Ered's parents came for her before morning. They took Nerris with them. And while the feds went to the pizzeria, the girls were attacked by a bear–”

“Freddy?” Preston interrupted.

Neil shook his head negatively. “She said the bear was yellow.”

Preston shrieked and covered his mouth with a hand.

“What?” Spade Kid squinted at him.

“The golden bear killed Nurf,” whispered Preston. “We… barely got away. If I had stayed with Nurf, I would also…” He closed his eyes. “I was lucky I…” Preston gulped, “I ran after Dolph.”

“Ered says the animatronic attacked her first, and if Nerris hadn't been frozen in fear and run away, Ered wouldn't have survived. As it was, the bear scratched her arm and switched to Nerris. Ered escaped.”

“Golden Freddy.” Preston was trembling. “We're pretty sure there's a human in Golden.”

“What?” Neil took off his glasses again and wiped them clean.

“Those animatronics were created by a psycho. And he made an animatronic suit.  Half-animatronic, half-suit–”

“I think I understand.” Neil nodded. “It explains a lot. The maniac made the suit for himself to kill. And made animatronics programmed to kill. It makes sense. No magic involved. But why didn't they shut this place down? Why didn't they fucking destroy the goddamn animatronics, burn down the pizzeria and electrocute the creator?!”

“The new owner of the pizzeria,” Ered cleared her throat, “is Mr. Campbell.”

“Fuck!” Neil blurted out. “Makes sense. He doesn't give a shit as long as he makes a profit. Probably bought it on sale.”

“I should have known Mr. Campbell was the owner. They charge for photos on your own phone.” Preston pouted his lips.

“So Mr. Campbell brought us together to kill us?!” Space Kid jumped up and hit his head on the balcony. “He has already killed two of us.”

“I don't think so.” Neil reflected. “He's not a killer. He's just obsessed with money.”

“Did he get paid for our lives?”

“Don't be silly, Space Kid. He couldn't have predicted that we'd go to the pizza place. He probably bought the pizzeria for a penny, invested in it and raked it in until the shit started. Now he's gonna disappear again.”

“Why did he bring us together? Why?”

“Oh, Space Kid, this is a different business. They don't have enough campers, so he decided to bring in the old ones. For that military camp. Scout camp.”

“No, guys.” Preston shook his head. “He did it so we wouldn't accidentally get into the pizzeria. I mean, we're always spoil his game. He just wanted to play it safe.”

Neil took a long, hard look at the boy. “Nonsense!”

“What makes you think there's a man in Golden?” Ered raised her head and sobbed. “A man can't be so bloodthirsty.”

“What if that person is a maniac?” Preston raised an eyebrow. “A maniac who has killed several children, including his own kids. Besides, we don't know he's only in Golden. Maybe he's got multiple suits.”

“I'm going to find that scumbag.” Space Kid pursed his lips together. “And I'll get him out of that suit. He will answer to me for everything! I swear on my uncle. To the Moon, Mars and beyond.” He got out from under the balcony.

“I don't get it. What's that supposed to mean?” Preston pointed behind his back.

“Space Kid!” Neil crawled on all fours to the exit and twirled his head. “Holy shit!” He returned. “Fuck!” And put a finger to his lips. Heavy footsteps came. Golden metal feet stopped near the balcony. Preston pressed himself into the wall. Neil held his breath. Ered shrieked and rushed out of hiding, scratching her back. Preston clamped his mouth shut. He saw the golden feet, saw Ered's feet flicker and disappear from sight, and saw the blood dripping, mixing in a puddle with rainwater.

Gregory looked around the empty room and jumped from the windowsill to the floor. And was knocked off his feet. Two boys picked him up like a rag doll and held him against the wall.

“Oh, it's you.” The kid relaxed.

“Spit out what you know,” Dolph hissed.

“What's going on here?” Max flashed his eyes.

“Let me go.” The kid jerked their hands away. “Am I Google or something? I've been hanging out here only a week. It's not that I don't like it. It's fun and delicious here. It's weird that no one's looking for me, though.”

“Let him go,” Max said glumly. Dolph stepped back. The kid adjusted his clothes and looked at the boys defiantly.

“So?” Dolph pursed his lips.

“So what?” Gregory snorted. “I myself have only been here a week. What do you want to know from what I know?”

“Everything!” Max cut him off.

“Okay, shaggy.” Gregory pondered. “After all, I've had enough of this place too. So, I'll come with you.”

“Come with us where?” Dolph furrowed his brow.

“Away from the pizzeria.” The kid sat down on the windowsill and looked down. “You know, some girl got torn to pieces in a car over there. The second one ran off into the woods.” He turned to the boys. “If you'd gotten here sooner, you'd have seen the blood trail. Yeah. The funny thing is, they came with the FBI. While those FBI guys were snooping around the pizzeria, Golden got to the girls and…” The boy sighed. “The new boss had ordered them to weld up all the entrances to the basement last night. I don't know how Golden got out.”

“So the boss was arrested?” Max did his best to stay calm.

“You wish!” The kid laughed. “When the police surrounded him, he escaped into the basement. And then the exit was welded shut. That asshole walled himself up with the animatronics. He's basically dead. No way he's getting out of the basement.”

Max clenched his fists. “You brat, why'd you send us to the basement?”

“Not a brat. Gregory.” The kid ran away, just in case. “I warned you it was dangerous down there. Were your ears popping then, shaggy?”

“I'll kill him.” Max pursed his lips. Dolph stopped the boy by holding his shoulder.

“So brave. You probably weren't as brave with Foxy. Or with Golden when he dissected the fat-ass.”

“Shut up!” Dolph barked and lunged at the kid. Max held his friend back with his arm around his waist.

“I myself walk around the Pizzaplex only with Glamrock Freddy, and only because I've reprogrammed the bear to protect me. There's no other way to survive here. I don't know how Vanessa lasted so long in this place.” He pondered. “So, what I've learned.” The kid became serious. “For some reason, those animatronics have an irresistible urge to kill. It's like they're possessed by demons. And they're designed so that they are capable of murder. But apparently they're not so damn invulnerable. For example, another animatronic could easily take them down. They're big and clumsy. That's why they're dangerous in a confined space. Especially when there's more than one of them. Foxy's the only one who's fast. Oh, right, and also Mangle. But that thing crawls on the ceiling and can't get through doors, and Foxy doesn't like it when you shine a light in his eye. That's all I know.”

“Okay.” Max looked out the window. The rain was pounding on the eaves again. “Let's go, Dolph.”

“Where are you going?” Gregory hung on his sleeve. “Remember the deal? I'm coming with you. Besides, I can hack the program if you catch an animatronic.”

“Are you sure?” Dolph snorted. “What would you say about animatronic suits?”

“What?” The kid turned to him. “They used the suits a long time ago. A really long time ago, and then they replaced them with animatronics. You see, animators didn't stay alive for long in those suits.” He nodded. “Especially in the rain. Their spring locks would snap off, piercing the victim through.”

“Your theory about the maniac in the suit has crumbled, Dolph. Golden went out in the rain.” Max bit the edge of his lip. “Listen, you little shit, what do you say about ghosts trapped inside animatronics?”

The kid shrugged. “I can't say definitively. Mental energy hasn't been studied, as well as other energy-field components of the human structure. It's theoretically possible to build a mechanism that can catch and hold it, but the creator is a goddamn genius.”

“Why did I break the window? Why did I climb up to the second floor? Why, shaggy? So I could talk to two psychos.” Gregory jumped to the ground, the splash from the puddle shooting in different directions.

“Quiet,” Dolph hissed at him.

“We have to hurry.” Pressing himself against the wall, Max sped away from the open window of the second floor. “Besides, you didn't close the window when you left, kiddo.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Did you give me time to do that, shaggy?” He caught up with Max and ran forward, blocking his way. “What are our plans?”

He shrieked at the unexpected attack and rushed to Max, hugging him around the waist, then quickly regained consciousness, blushed and simply hid behind his back. The attacker shrieked too and recoiled, barely able to stay on his feet. Then he grabbed the wall, glanced around and grabbed Max's hands.

“We've got to get out of here!” he whispered hotly, his eyes rounding in fear. “Golden's coming for all of us.”

“What the hell, Preston? Where's Harrison? Where did you leave him? You left Harrison?” Max pushed Preston away.

“Stop!” Preston leaned against the wall, regaining his breath. “There's Golden!”

“There's Harrison!” Max didn't stop.

“Stop!” Dolph shouted sharply. Max froze and looked back at them. “Preston, what happened? Be brief and don't get emotional.”

“Harrison went to the basement. I met Neil, Space Kid and Ered. And then Golden came.” Preston covered his eyes with his hands and sobbed.

“Got it,” Max cut him off. “I'm going after Harrison.”

“Where are the others?” Dolph grabbed the boy by the shoulders.

“Space Kid went to the basement after the maniac. He was very determined. And then,” Preston sighed convulsively, “Golden Freddy appeared. We were sitting under the balcony, but Ered panicked and ran out. He…” Preston shook his head. “He did to her the same as he did to Nurf. I ran away. What about Neil? Golden must have gotten to Neil.” He opened his eyes. “That Ered gave away our hideout. And he… He knelt down and peered in. Eyes empty and glassy. And…” Preston sobbed.

“Stop whining!” Max barked. “Harrison's still alive, I'm sure of it. We're going to the basement.”

The sounds of the cellar were frightening, and Harrison twitched at the slightest rustle, the creak of floorboards, or the whiff of a draft.

He made his way from memory to the Pirate's Cove. Foxy was standing still, but he didn't respond, no matter how many times Harrison called out to him. Harrison sat at the animatronic's feet for a few minutes, called softly to Michael and went in search of the unruly ghost.

Harrison wandered through the basement, peering into every room. And found… Freddy was standing in the hallway. The heavy bear slowly turned and stared at the boy with his glassy eyes. A red sensor flickered in the depths.

“Hey, Evan.” Harrison held the toy out in front of him. The animatronic didn't move. “It's your teddy bear, Evan.” Harrison lowered the toy to the floor and sat it down gently, straightening its purple bow. “He missed you, Evan. And so did Michael. He misses you, too. He asked me to bring you your teddy bear. He also wanted me to tell you that he can't forgive himself for killing you. He feels so guilty. And he misses you very much.” Harrison stepped back, turned his back on the animatronic, and walked away. Turning the corner, he glanced back.

Freddy was standing in the same place. A skinny boy was squatting beside the teddy bear. He ran his ethereal hand over the plush face and smiled.

Harrison's lips stretched into a smile, too. He walked down the long hallway, wondering what Evan was feeling right now. Maybe the child's heart would thaw.

Harrison stopped as soon as he heard the voices. The argument was coming from behind the wall, and Harrison crept toward the sound, his footsteps barely audible. He recognized Michael's voice at once, but he couldn't make out the words. The closer he got, the clearer the words became. Specifically, “why”. Michael repeated the word several times.

“You're not finished!” a boyish voice shouted defiantly.

“I wasn't going to kill him. We taught him a lesson.” There was a bitter note in Michael's voice.

“He won't hurt the weak now.” The boy laughed a laugh that made Harrison's heart grow cold. That's the laugh of someone who doesn't want to show pain. “The hell are you telling me what to do? Can't we kill? They can kill us, but we can't? You should have told your dad that years ago.”

“Cassidy, we shouldn't turn into–”

“Fuck you.”

The doorway was quite close, and Harrison pushed away his doubts, made up his mind, and exhaled, ready to face the disputants. And stopped. Neil emerged from the darkness of the adjoining corridor. He froze and listened, took off his glasses, wiped them clean and put them back on his nose. The boy rounded his eyes, put his finger to his lips and nodded at the door, behind which, however, no one was talking anymore. Harrison bit the edge of his lip nervously. He slid down the wall and squeezed his temples.

“Psst.” Neil signaled. Harrison rubbed his eyes and followed the boy on weak legs. Neil led him away from the door and whispered, “Who's in there? Animatronics? Who?”

“Foxy,” Harrison answered muffled and gulped. “And someone else.”

“Yeah, there's a lot of them here.” Neil pondered. “Where are the others? Have you met them?”

Harrison shook his head no.

“This is bad. It's really bad that we're split up. Did you know that Golden Freddy killed Nerris and Ered?”

Harrison shook his head again.

“Yeah. It was the worst time possible for us to split up. Damn Space Kid went into the basement, and Preston squealed and ran into the bushes.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Neil pondered again. “When Preston squealed, I… I don't remember well. I was sneaking along the wall. Right. I saw him kill Ered… Oh! And then I fell. There was a door in the wall. Can you believe it?”

“And then Golden caught up with you?”

“What makes you think that? Oh, that.” Neil brushed drops of blood off his sleeve. “Nah, I never saw Golden again. That thing came down from the ceiling. Ugh, gross! Oh, that was creepy! It scared the shit out of me. First, the head on the spring stretched to the floor with a snap, then it disappeared, and then I was already under the ceiling. I fought back and escaped.”

“Neil.” Harrison looked sadly at his friend. “You didn't escape.”

“Why would you say that?”

Harrison silently touched the translucent hand, and Harrison's palm went through.

“What?” Neil rounded his eyes. “How?” He examined his hands, which glowed with a light bluish light. “But ghosts don't exist. It's not scientific. How?” He recoiled, the corner of his lips lifting in a smile. “Are you trolling me, wizard?”

Harrison shook his head again.

“What now?”

“I don't know, Neil.”

“Neither do I.” Neil sighed. “Science doesn't have an answer.”

Neil's bluish figure rippled, shimmered and glowed with a golden light.

“What is it, Harrison?” Neil looked at his hands, scattering golden sand. “Science doesn't have an answer.” His figure burst into a golden cloud and disappeared in a sunny flare.

“I told you never come back.”

Harrison wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand and looked up. Michael stood with his back against the wall and his arms folded across his chest. He scrutinized the boy from beneath his bangs and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Who died?”

“Neil, a guy from my squad.” Harrison pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.

“That's why I told you to get out of here.”

“Who's Cassidy?”

“Cassidy,” Michael repeated. “I felt your footsteps. How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that Cassidy is Golden. And that he killed three of my friends.”

“You said you didn't have any friends.”

“Yeah, right. Three acquaintances of mine.” Harrison stood up.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “This,” he circled the boy, “is my clothes. I told you not to dig into my past. And you broke into my house? So what? Did it make you feel better? Learned a lot, didn't you?”

“No. You tell me.”

“Like hell I will.” Michael snorted.

“Was your father always a mad scientist? Where's Elizabeth? What happened to your mother?”

Michael was silent, the boy's eyes glittering furiously.

“Michael, tell me.”

“You shouldn't have dug into my past. You shouldn't have broken into the Aftons' house!”

“I slept on your bed, Michael. And I brought Evan his teddy bear. With a purple ribbon.”

Michael disappeared.

Harrison sat at Foxy's feet with his hand under his cheek. He twitched startled a few times and hid behind the curtain, never figuring out who were those visitors to the Pirate Cove.

“I knew you'd be here.”

“Took you long enough to show up, Michael.”

“I wasn't going to.” A translucent silhouette of the boy slipped through the curtain and sat down next to Harrison on the top step of Foxy's podium. “How is he?”

“Who? Oh, Evan. He smiled, Michael.”

“Really?”

Harrison nodded.

“Damn killing machines.” Michael waved at Foxy behind him. “If I'd known, I would never have let my friends drag him to Freddy. No point in regretting it now, though. It's done. You asked about the Afton family. Now I know when the point of no return was. That's when William Afton and his friend Henry made Mimic. You saw that thing in Ballora.”

“Is that an animatronic?”

“I'm not sure. It's a self-learning program.” Michael leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “When Mimic lived with us in that house on the hill, he looked really creepy. It was just an endoskeleton. They all look like that if you take off an attractive shell. No wonder Evan was scared. We all were. William was the only one who was excited about Mimic. And Mimic? It's not an adapted program, it's just a copycat. It copies everything it sees and takes things literally. It was scary to say something like ‘good night’, you never knew what it would do. Mimic doesn't follow the three rules of robotics. Still, I teased the little guy for being a coward.” The corner of Michael's lips curved into a smile. “If there's ever a machine uprising, Mimic will be the one to raise it. It tried to start a riot of toasters in our house. And now it's copying Mom.” Michael lowered his eyes. “After the scandal with William, Mom disappeared. And Mimic got a new look. Officially, Mom left. Didn't want to live with a mad engineer and his infernal creation. But I don't believe that. I still remember him standing in the garden with a shovel. I was hoping Mimic would dig something up. A shoe or something. I thought about digging under that cherry tree he planted at night. But I didn't dare. I was afraid I'd find… You know.” Michael sighed, his silhouette rippling.

“Where's Elizabeth? What's she like?”

“Elizabeth.” Michael grimaced. “A silly girl, begging for praise from her authoritative father. She'd do anything to get Daddy's approval or attention. Always following him around, so obliging. But instead of spending time with Liz, he focused on me. He wanted me to be his successor, to be as good at engineering as he was. And Evan… He called him a whiner and tried… to cure him of his cowardice. I'm no better than William.” Michael closed his eyes, his lips curved in pain. “So that stupid girl found Mom's diaries and turned her in to Dad. To earn points for herself. Mom's having an affair and Daddy doesn't know. Instant karma. There was one child who wasn't actually William's. Guess who. Elizabeth. Sis didn't disappear like Mom, of course. But Dad treated her even worse after that.”

“Where is Elizabeth now?”

“Enough stories for today.” Michael turned away.

“Michael!”

The ghost slipped through the curtain.

“Michael!” Harrison followed him out. “Wait! Don't leave!”

“I can't leave, but you should. As soon as you can.”

“No, look. I've been thinking about what you said, and Charlie, and the empty Mangle–”

“What are you…?!” Michael turned around sharply, the darkness of the corridor visible through him.

“Neil said he hadn't noticed how he died. Mangle kills fast. I think,” Harrison gulped, “Foxy can do the same.”

“No, Harrison. Don't even say such a thing.” Michael looked at the boy sadly. His bangs fell over his eyes. “And don't tempt me into it. You and I are from different epochs. Go to your world and live! Appreciate life, you fucking idiot!”

“What if I don't see any reason to live?” Harrison stared at the translucent silhouette. “You need me, and I like you.”

“I'm a very bad guy, Harrison.”

“Strangely, I like that. I like the company of a bad guy.”

Michael looked at Harrison in surprise, his eyelashes fluttering. His face rippled and melted on Max's face.

“Am I not bad enough for you?” Max said glumly. The ghost disappeared. “Or Dolph? What are you up to, Harrison? Did you talk to the ghost?”

“I thought you didn't believe in ghosts.” Harrison turned around. Michael stood leaning against the Pirate Cove sign.

“It doesn't matter.” Max licked his dry lips and slouched down. “What matters is that you are going to suicide.”

“So what?” Harrison flared up. “Why do you even care? It's my life. I do whatever I want with it.”

“Your life.” Max shoved his hands deeper into his pants pockets. His gaze wandered around the pizzeria. “Except I really do care. And I want you to live.” He turned away, blushing thickly.

“Harrison, Harrison.” Michael tutted his tongue. “What do you think of that? Consider it a confession. Go back to your world! You know the way out.”

“I'm not leaving until I release the souls of the ghosts.”

Max batted his eyelashes.

“Yes, I have to help them leave.” Harrison turned to Michael.

“Is it that important to you?” Max muttered. “Okay, fine. Besides, we have to stop that maniac Golden. And find Neil and Space Kid.”

“Max.” Harrison grew sad. “Neil's dead.”

“What?”

“Mangle killed him. I saw Neil's ghost, but he had already left. That's why I believe we could help the souls.”

“Damn it, Neil!” The boy's eyes flashed. “I'm gonna find that Golden and–”

“Golden is a victim too. A boy named Cassidy. He's resentful because nobody saved him. Right?” He looked at Michael.

“Max! You find him!” Preston came out of the darkness. “We found Harrison! You… Max promised to skin me because of you!”

“All we have to do is find Neil and Space Kid and burn this fucking pizzeria to the ground.” Dolph stopped in the doorway.

“It already burned once, but it didn't work,” Michael commented.

Gregory squeezed past the boy. “Harrison?” The kid shoved Max away. “Why the hell are you so old?”

“Gregory?” Harrison staggered. “Where have you been? It's been five years.” He rushed over to the kid and grabbed him by the shoulders. He knelt down in front of him and scrutinized his face, not believing his eyes.

“What's the matter with you? Five years?” The kid was visibly frightened. “I've been here for a week. I've been sleeping in the basement, eating pizza. You sent me here on purpose, right? To teach me a lesson. And now you came after me!”

Harrison shook his head. “No, brother.” He squeezed the kid in a hug, pressing his cheek against the top of his head. “I didn't know where I'd sent you. It's been five years since then. I've been in a nuthouse for five years because of you–”

“Wow.” Disgruntled, Gregory broke out of his brother's arms. “How are our parents?”

“Same as always.”

“That's great!” Gregory jumped. “So I'm not going home! No one's gonna believe you sent me to the future anyway. And if you try to prove it, I'll say you picked me up at a train station and I agreed to call myself Gregory for a pack of cigarettes.”

“Where are you gonna live?” Harrison was still sitting on the floor, his hands shaking nervously.

“Ha. With you and the shaggy one.” Gregory winked at Max. “And his parents will buy documents for me.”

“Buy? How?” Max frowned.

“Just like your father bought the election, he'll buy me documents.” He laughed, noticing the confused look on the boy's face.

“I see. Preston gave it up.”

“Yep.” Gregory nodded.

“Look like you have a reason to come back.” The ghostly silhouette appeared behind Gregory's back. “Live for the two of us. You're lucky. Go with your brother.”

“Guys.” Max cautiously looked out into the corridor and relaxed, the corridor was empty. “Harrison says Neil's dead.”

“How?” Preston gasped. Dolph turned sad and dropped his eyes.

“Mangle,” Max answered briefly.

“You're too noisy,” Michael exhaled in Harrison's ear. “Take them away, please. I want some peace and quiet.” Harrison opened his mouth, and Michael put a transparent finger to his lips. “Shh. Don't. I'm happy for you, sincerely. But you need to leave now. With your brother. And your friends.”

“We have to get out of here!” Harrison said, keeping his eyes on Michael.

Max nodded. “I can't wait to get out of here myself. It's an open area. We're too conspicuous here.”

Harrison stood up and took Gregory's hand.

“What are you doing?” The brother yanked his hand away. “I'm not a child. I'm very independent.”

“Sure.” Harrison smiled.

The boys poured out into the corridor.

“Space Kid wanted to find Golden.” Dolph pondered. “Where should we look for him? For that Space Kid.” He was the first to walk down the hall.

“Kid, you weren't bluffing when you said you could break the animatronic program, right?” Max, who was trailing the procession, tugged at Gregory.

“It hurts to hear that, shaggy.” The kid was offended. “I can break or reprogram it. Just give me an animatronic, immobilized, of course, and I'll take care of it.”

“That's a good idea. We need to catch someone who's not dangerous. The little thief would do.” Max rubbed his chin. “But where would we find him? He's probably running around somewhere.”

“What about Ballora? She's empty, no ghost inside.” Harrison tilted his head. “She's not as dangerous as the others. We could practice on her.”

“Do you know where she is?”

Harrison nodded.

“The poor kids are lost.”

Everyone turned around at once. The big doll was spreading her arms, blocking the corridor. Max sharply pushed Harrison behind his back.

“I have to escort the kids out. Kids shouldn't be wandering around in dark corridor. Good thing Baby found the kids.”

The boys backed away, keeping their eyes on the doll.

“Run!” shouted Max.

“Where are you going?” Baby's voice lost its sweetness. “There's someone waiting for you. Your friend.”

Harrison stopped first and turned back. Max pulled him by the hand.

“How can you abandon your friend?” Baby was closing the distance between them.

“Easily!” Max shouted. Red lightning squeezed between Baby and the wall. The doll stopped, lowered her head and blinked slowly.

“Once… she had… lured… a boy… that way. Promised to tell… where the… sister… was. That's a lie! Let's get to know each other! This is Liz!”

Foxy got in the way of the doll, shoving her shoulder, keeping her away from the fugitives. The scraping of metal filled the corridor.

“What's going on?” Gregory was running away from the animatronics, ahead of the others, and braked sharply, nearly knocked to the floor by Preston bumping into him. Red sensors flashed in the darkness. One by one, forming a double row, Chica and Bonnie were advancing as a dense wall.

“Fuck!” Dolph spat out.

“Let's go back,” Max exhaled. “And take the doll down together with Foxy.”

“You sure?” Dolph cast a quick glance back. Baby confronted Foxy, taking over the corridor inch by inch.

Harrison crossed his fingers for luck and squeezed between the friends, stepping forward. “Fritz! Listen! I'm sorry you were killed! William took your life, but don't give him your soul. You're serving his dream! Animatronics kill!”

Bonnie stopped. Chica pushed him with her shoulder and froze too.

“How long have you been here? Fritz! Gaby!”

“Run!” Foxy barked. He planted his feet, Baby pushing him, advancing on the boys.

Harrison stepped cautiously toward Bonnie, squeezed past, and bypassed Chica as well. Gregory, clinging to his arm, kept up.

“Shit.” Preston clenched his teeth, glancing warily at the animatronics. They remained motionless.

Harrison waited until the entire company got behind Bonnie and Chica's backs. “Gaby! What's holding you here? Fritz!”

The translucent silhouette of a girl in a denim overall and with cocky pigtails of hair rose in front of Harrison.

“Oh, hi.” Harrison looked sadly at the girl, a mere child. A shadow flickered, and an older boy with a defiant look turned up his nose and looked at Harrison mockingly. “Aren't you guys sick of this place?”

“Do we have a choice?” The boy snorted.

“I don't know how to free you,” Harrison admitted. “Let's find a way out of your metal prison together. Fritz, what animatronic killed you?”

The boy smirked and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Harrison's companions batted their eyelashes in bewilderment, but didn't interfere with the strange monologue of their friend.

“Not an animatronic? William,” Harrison realized. Fritz's eyes flashed, and he turned away. “Motherfucker.” The boy shook his head. “That rotten bastard. Fritz, I'm sorry you ran.”

“Ran into him?” Gaby wrinkled her nose. “Fritz was hanging around the pizzeria and around William himself, suspecting him.”

“How could I not? He was a suspicious dude, extremely suspicious.”

“If you'd stayed away from him, you'd still be alive.”

“Look who's talking. Weren't we spying on him with you?”

“Why are you picking on me now?”

“When should I?”

“Harrison, what…?” Preston started to say, but Harrison put a finger to his lips and Preston fell silent.

“I had a better reason than you. I wasn't playing detective. He killed my friend.” Gaby lowered her gaze. “Poor, stupid Susie. She saw some creep run over her dog. And then the same creep, I'm sure it was the same creep, promised to show her where her dog was. He did. In a way. So I was spying on him until… until he noticed me spying on him. Damn, that dumb Susie. How could she be so dumb and go with him?! How?! I wasn't even surprised when she disappeared.”

“Hey, Gaby, where's Susie now?” Harrison didn't notice his friends' confused stares. Nor did he notice how Gregory twirled a finger at his temple.

“I haven't seen her here,” Fritz answered for the girl.

“I shouldn't have let her go, I should have told the adults…” She closed her eyes with her palms and dropped to her knees.

“But we don't give our friends in even if we don't like their choices. Right?” Harrison crouched down next to Gaby. “You're a good friend. You followed her even in the face of death. She was lucky to have you. I don't know why you blame yourself.” Harrison smiled at her. “You don't need to stay here. Try to leave. I'm sure there’s someone waiting for you. Someone with a dog is waiting for you for a long time.”

Gaby smiled and raised her head, she looked at Harrison, shifted her gaze to Fritz and closed her eyes. The silhouette shimmered with a golden light.

“Well done, Gaby, it's working.” Harrison smiled. Gaby melted with a golden light. “Fritz!” He looked around. The boy was no longer there.

“Not bad.” Michael said as he appeared and disappeared again.

“Guys.” Harrison jumped up. “Gaby's gone!”

“What about Fritz?” Max moved away from the wall.

“No.” Harrison shook his head. “We should break Chica. Gregory?”

He didn't have to tell his brother twice.

“Shaggy, give me a hand.” Gregory pulled Max toward Chica's back. Sitting on his shoulders, Gregory tore off the back panel, tinkered with it for a long time under the grumbling of Dolph, who demanded the kid hurry up. He didn't like the metallic scraping and commotion on the other side of the corridor. Everyone was nervous, though. And exhaled a sigh of relief when Gregory shouted out, “Done. It's broken. We should have reprogrammed her, though.”

“No time for that.” Max put him down on the ground. “Besides, she's damaged. Let's go before Baby breaks through to us.”

“Ready?” Max whispered.

“Disabling it would be a piece of cake.” Gregory looked into the room. The mechanical ballerina stood in the center of the room, the animatronic's eyes tightly closed.

“Dolph?” Max didn't look back.

“Let's corner her.” Dolph clutched a metal pipe in his hands.

The ballerina raised her arms above her head and spun around. Dolph squeezed the pipe tighter and stepped carefully over the threshold. With a similar pipe, Max slid to the wall and started to cautiously approach the doll from the other side. Preston, Harrison and Gregory huddled together at the entrance. The ballerina didn't seem seem to notice the hunt for her, and leaning backward, stood on the bridge, threw back her head and crawled spider-like toward Dolph. Dolph froze in surprise. Ballora's face cracked and opened into petals. The exoskeleton skull with its glass eyes glittered with sparks, her jaw dropped open in a soundless scream.

“Fuck!” Gregory yelled and clutched at Preston's arm. Max swung the pipe, and it came whistling down on Ballora's head. The ballerina changed direction, swiftly pushing Max back against the wall.

“Mimic.” Harrison whispered. “Guys… Guys, she's a copycat.”

Ballora's limbs wriggled and twisted, and in the motion, she rose and swung. Ballora's hand smashed into the wall right where Max's head had been a split second ago.

“Dum dum de dum.” Ballora bowed her head and swung again.

Dolph looked around frantically. Suddenly he jumped up and hung on the wires. It crackled. Dolph bounced away, the boy's hair standing on end. The bare wire caught Ballora, the doll shook in a feverish dance, all the animatronic's contacts sparking. Max squeezed past her, pressing himself against the wall.

“Neil said,’ Dolph watched as the ballerina fell to the floor and froze, “that shorting out could disable an animatronic.” He kicked the wire aside with his foot. “Go ahead, Gregory.”

“Can't we just shut it down?” Preston suggested.

“Don't worry.” Gregory opened the animatronic's back panel. “We'll turn her into an obedient girl.”

“Why didn't you wait until morning?”

Harrison turned around. Michael was standing at the entrance. “Why?”

“Do you prefer naughty girls?” Gregory immersed himself in his work.

“I'm not talking to you. What happens in the morning?”

“After 6:00 A.M., the program shuts down the animatronics and they turn into statues. Only those that aren't possessed.”

“Why didn't you mention this?” Harrison fluttered his eyelashes.

“You never asked.” Michael disappeared.

“Guys.” Harrison smiled. “After six in the morning, animatronics without ghosts go to bed.”

“Cool.” Dolph gave him a thumbs-up. “If I had my watch, I'd know when it would be.”

“According to Ballora's program in three hours,” Gregory said still focused on the animatronic.

“Great.” Max sat down against the wall with his leg tucked under him. “Let's find Mangle and shut that bitch down.”

Space Kid's heart was pounding, too loudly. As it seemed to him. Louder than his footsteps, louder than his breathing. Like a hunter, he sensed his prey. He knew the beast lurked in the darkness. The beast crawled into its lair and lurked in the far room. Space Kid looked in every room, checking all the dark corners. Luck was on his side when the boy spotted a pile of rags. A brownish yellow-and-green pile of plastic, rags and metal. At least, that's how it seemed to Space Kid in the dim light of the illumination of the found watch.

“Maniac.” The boy clenched in his fist a fragment of brick, approaching the garbage pile on the charred floorboards. “I'll get you out of your suit, you filthy scumbag.”

The brownish green pile moved. And two red sensors flashed.

🍕 🍕 🍕

When Evan was scared, he clutched his teddy bear. The teddy bear made a friendly “arrr” sound, and the stuffing sprung softly under his fingers. Now Evan sat in the corner of his bedroom, huddled under the desk, and waited. The door creaked open. A fox face with an eye patch peered in. Evan could see it well in the glow of the flashlight. The night visitor lit up the mask from below, making the pirate fox even scarier, and the shadows on the wall stretched their spidery legs into every corner of the boy's bedroom. The fox scurried into the bedroom, closed the door, and jumped onto the bed with an eerie howl. Evan got out from under the table, hitting his head, and rushed out of the room. In tears, he ran to his parents' room, forgetting that his mom wasn't there. The father appeared on the doorstep.

“Michael.” Evan sobbed, clutching the teddy bear to his chest and smearing tears on his face with his fist. “Michael's scaring me again.”

“You're whining like a little girl.” William looked at his son arrogantly.

“I never whine.” The sister appeared behind Evan's back.

“Go back to your bed.” The door to the parents' bedroom closed.

Evan sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the purple ribbon of his teddy bear. Evan was dressed up in a beautiful, but terribly uncomfortable suit for his birthday. The only thing that spoiled the birthday boy's image was his teary eyes, red from sleepless nights.

“Why, Plush Fred, why?” Evan looked out the window. Perfect weather to celebrate on the lawn outside the house. With a chocolate fountain, balloons and a clown. Just like last year. Evan was happy then. “Why do we have to go to the pizzeria?”

“Are you ready?”

Evan flinched. He hadn't noticed his dad walk into the room. Reluctantly, Evan got up.

“Leave the toy. You're not a baby.”

“I don't take toys with me.” Liz appeared behind William's back. Dad didn't say anything, as if he hadn't heard his daughter.

“Come on.” Dad raised an eyebrow. “Don't keep me waiting, Evan.”

The boy sighed, set the teddy bear on the edge of the bed and walked out of the bedroom.

Outside the pizzeria window, the sun shone so invitingly, birds chirped so merrily, strange boys raced their bikes.

The kids were laughing and chatting, eating their fill.

“Phew.” A boy whose name Evan couldn't remember leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach.

Across from Evan sat a girl with faded blonde hair and a sour look. She looked around sadly and complained to everyone about her grief over her dead dog.

Evan was sad and wistful. The table was full of kids, but they were all Michael's friends or the children of his dad's acquaintances. And they were no fun at all.

Dad celebrated with the adults in the other room. Liz often went there. Even now she ran there. Evan dropped his eyes and picked at his ice cream with a spoon. Flipping his chair over, several pairs of hands tugged at Evan.

“You seem pretty bored.” Michael winked at him. “I know what will cheer you up.” He pulled on that stupid mask of his favorite Foxy. “A kiss with an animatronic.” He jumped up on the chair and put his foot on the back of it pirate-style. “With who?” His brother wondered.

“He likes bears.” Frowning Liz appeared beside Michael. She shook her head and sat back in her seat with her hand under her cheek.

“Right, take him to Freddy!” Michael commanded, holding his imaginary saber out in front of him.

“Noooo,” Evan whimpered. The boy was shaking with fear. The horrible grin of the shiny Freddy was coming closer. “Noooo.” He sobbed and cried, resisting.

“Come on, just one kiss.” The kids laughed. Evan was lifted up and pushed into the animatronic. Someone pressed hard on the back of his head. Evan squeezed his eyes shut at the sight of the jaws inside. And screamed. Though no, just opened his mouth.

Silence enveloped the pizzeria. The kids backed away frightened. Evan was dangling from the animatronic's mouth, his white shirt soaked with blood, his hand clutching an invisible plush toy.

“What?” Michael whispered, his mouth dry. He rushed to his brother, slipped on the bloody puddle and fell at Freddy's feet. Liz screamed. Adults came from somewhere. He saw Evan lying in Henry's arms like a lifeless doll. And clutched his head with his hands. They led the kids out of the pizzeria.

“Evan's going to be okay,” William said falsely.

“How could this have happened?” Henry lamented. “Why did he look into the animatronic? Poor boy.”

Michael huddled in a corner and buried his face in his knees. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, wishing he could rewind time. Silence rang in his ears, and he saw his brother's eyes wide open. His brother, who on Michael's command had been dragged to Freddy.

Chapter Text

Harrison sat against the wall. Gregory fell asleep, his head resting on Harrison's shoulder. A mechanism clicked, and Ballora's eyes flashed. Dolph stretched and yawned loudly.

“It's time.” Max stood up.

“We still haven't figured out where to find that monster.” Preston rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Let's start with the vents above the kitchen,” Max said. He paused for a second above Harrison, and even opened his mouth, but quickly bit his lip and poked Gregory with the toe of his sneaker.

Gregory yawned and glared at him. “What the hell, shaggy?”

“It's Max. Get used to it.” Harrison patted his brother affectionately on the head.

“Did you want me to treat you like a princess?”

The boys poured into the hallway and, stepping carefully, headed toward the kitchen. Almost silently, except for the heavy footsteps of Ballora bringing up the rear. When they passed the third hallway, Max caught up with Harrison. “Harrison… I know I often behave like a jerk…” He bit his lip until it bled. “Um, never mind. Forget it.” Overtaking Harrison, he rushed ahead, leading the group.

Not for long. Harrison pulled him back by the forearm, turning him to face him.

“What?” Max flashed his eyes.

“I should be asking that. What? What did you want to say? Speak up, since you started it.” Harrison licked his dry lips. The squad moved on, and Max felt embarrassed, left alone with the boy in the semi-darkness of the corridor.

“Nothing, really.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I'm not sure. I don't know why I'm doing this…”

“It's a defensive reaction. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?!” Max flushed and paused. “Listen, Harrison, don't take all this crap I'm saying seriously. But it's important to me that you get out of this mess alive. And that you don't go back to that nut house.”

“Boarding school.”

“Whatever.”

“It's important to you? Why?”

Max blushed and turned away. “I told you. Don't take all the crap I say seriously. Come on, let's take down this crawling piece of junk, and then we'll set up a funeral service for your long-dead friends.”

“No, we can't freeze the problem,” a metallic voice squeaked, and Max pursed his lips. Ballora's heavy hand rested on his shoulder. “You can't ignore the problem your whole life. You need to figure it out, talk openly, go to a family psychologist or sex therapist.”

“Who?” Max wrinkled his nose.

“A psychologist, a sex therapist and, specifically for you, an otolaryngologist, deaf Shaggy,” she added gently and blinked slowly.

“Unbelievable.” Max snorted and shook her hand off his shoulder. “Some tin can is sticking her nose into my relationship.”

“Oh.” Harrison tilted his head. “So you think we have a relationship.”

“Of course, you're part of the circle of people I hang out with.” Max snorted.

“I think you need to be tougher.” Ballora pushed Harrison. “Slap him. But stay alert. If Shaggy is prone to violence, run and hide in your room.”

“I don’t have my own room,” Harrison said. Ballora straightened up and fell silent. Max and Harrison hurried to the boys who had gone into the kitchen, while Ballora remained standing in the hallway, batting her eyelashes.

Max glanced around the kitchen. Preston sat on the edge of the table, throwing one leg over the other in a coquettish manner. Dolph was stretching his neck, and Gregory was behaving like a typical teenager, namely, making a mess. He was checking the contents of the cabinets and drawers, unceremoniously dumping everything on the floor, filling the kitchen with clattering and crashing sounds. Preston covered his ears and rolled his eyes dramatically. Max approached Dolph, who kept his eyes fixed on the ventilation system located under the ceiling.

“I see that thing,” Dolph said quietly, not even looking at him. Gregory froze and straightened up, listening. “It’s sleeping in its lair,” he spat contemptuously on the floor and clenched his fists. “Getting to it is a breeze. On the table, then on the cupboard.” Dolph gestured the route with his hand. “And pull out that scrap metal. And then we'll take it apart.” He turned around. “Get ready to receive the package.”

Max nodded, and Dolph, as promised, was on the cupboard in two jumps. He pulled himself up and looked into the ventilation shaft. Glancing back, Dolph gave Max the “ok” sign, and Max gestured to Gregory to come over.

Dolph disappeared into the vent and jumped out with a wild cry, barely touching the cupboard. He landed, rolled over and sprawled on the floor, then jumped up abruptly, his eyes wide open. “Bullshit! That bitch isn't sleeping at all!!!”

There was a clanging and clicking sound, multiplied by repeated echoes. A toothy mouth appeared from the ventilation shaft, and a heavy fox head hung down on stretched springs. She rolled her eyes and, catching on the cupboard door, fell out of the ventilation shaft. Preston squealed and jumped away from the table. Max jerked Harrison behind his back.

“I need half a minute,” Gregory said. “Hold her for half a minute.”

“Yeah, right. As if that's easy,” Max snapped. “Harrison, either your Casper isn't so friendly, or he's just a pathological liar.”

“My dear friends,” Mangle squeaked, rocking on the springs.

“Waste compactor is your friend,” Max said. Noticing the overturned two-legged chair out of the corner of his eye, he rushed toward it and, armed with it as a shield, nodded to the team, pointing to the exit.

“So that's how you treat those who wanted to be your friends,” Mangle screeched, clanking and clattering. “Max.”

Max froze for a second, but then came to his senses and pushed the legs of the broken chair forward again. “Do you know each other?” Dolph picked up a heavy frying pan and held it firmly.

“Right on point, Dolph.” Mangle swayed. “Do you know me? Have any of you, my friends, noticed me? Not at the level of trees. At least at the level of the camp hamster, may he rest in peace. Right, Max?”

“What's going on?” Preston backed toward the exit.

“A typical horror story, queer.” Gregory snorted. The kid's eyes sparkled like a cat that had spotted a careless bird.

“Dolph!” Max barked. “Come in from the right, we'll corner that bitch at the table.”

“Bitch.” Mangle rolled her eyes even crazier. “Baby was right after all. Baby is my only real friend.”

“Since when have you been friends with her?” Harrison spoke up.

“Who else can I be friends with, Harrison?” Mangle clacked her teeth and lunged at Max. Max thrust the chair forward, which immediately shattered into pieces in Mangle's mouth. Max pushed the animatronic with his shoulder and was instantly knocked aside by the blow of a metal hand. He flew a couple of meters, crashed to the floor and rolled onto his back. Ballora stood over him.

“What are you waiting for?” Max grimaced in pain. “Are you going to protect us or not?”

“Violence won't solve the problem,” Ballora squeaked.

“Go to hell.” Max got up and barely dodged Dolph, who had fallen nearby. Dolph got on all fours and shook his head. In the room, Preston was screaming frantically.

“Damn it.” Max held his bruised side. “Harrison! Get out of here!”

A red tornado rushed past with a loud thud.

“Oh.” Max leaned against the wall. “The guardian angel is here.”

“What?” Dolph wiped the blood from his split lip.

“Harrison's protector has come to the rescue. Foxy.” Max grew serious. “Now it's time to take apart that bucket of bolts.”

“I agree. She scares the hell out of me with her talk.”

“Yellow!!!” Preston squealed and flew out of the kitchen like a bullet. He hung on Dolph's neck and pointed with a trembling finger. “The one who killed–” He couldn't finish, his voice breaking into a barely audible whisper and drowning in the silence of the corridor. The kitchen, in contrast, exploded with a crash and a screech.

“Ballora!” Max's lips pressed into a stern line. “Get the kids out of the danger zone. Kids have no place in a brawl.”

Ballora slowly made her way to the doorway.

“The kids are Gregory and Harrison,” added Dolph.

Max watched her go. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. The guy looked gloomy, staring into space and biting his lip.

“Max?” Dolph frowned. Preston was still clinging to him.

“I'm sick of those tin cans.” Max glanced quickly at Dolph. “What am I even doing here? Why should I care about crazy machines?”

“You're crazy.” Dolph tried unsuccessfully to break free from Preston's tight grip. “You were the one yelling, ‘Let's kill those creeps.’ And where is all this ‘Harrison is in danger’ stuff?”

Max flashed an angry look with his darkened eyes.

“I get it.” Preston cheered. “It’s jealousy. Vulgar jealousy.”

“Bullshit!” Max barked, flushing with anger and clenching his hands into fists. “I'll take Harrison and Gregory, and we're leaving.”

“What about Space Kid?” Preston fluttered his eyelashes. But Max had already disappeared into the kitchen, and Preston remained in the hallway, not daring to follow him. So did Dolph, who stood there rubbing his chin with a puzzled look on his face.

Max assessed the situation. He immediately noticed that Harrison and Gregory were relatively safe, as Ballora had grabbed them and was now moving toward the exit with slow, stealthy steps.

There were more characters in the kitchen now. Mangle and Foxy clashed with the sound of colliding cars. Freddy wouldn't let his yellow copy pass, and Max only now noticed that Golden was waving Freddy away like an annoying fly, and the golden bear's snout was pointing at Ballora like a compass needle pointing north. Max felt a rush of heat.

“Hurry up!” he shouted at Ballora and regretted it. Ballora stopped, blinked, and dropped her load on the floor. Harrison groaned as he hit the tinplate covering, and Gregory hurled a stream of profanities at her. Max noticed Golden push Freddy aside, and Freddy flew into the wall, slid down it and sat down with his legs spread wide, like a harmless children's toy. Golden, his eyes glowing with muted red sensors, advanced. Max grabbed Harrison's wrist and pulled him away. Standing next to Freddy, who had been defeated with what Max considered unforgivable ease, was the one-armed Bonnie. The rabbit didn't interfere, and Max couldn't tell from his metal, mangled face whether Bonnie was remaining neutral or waiting.

A deep roar escaped from Golden's metal insides, creaking like unlubricated machinery. Golden spread his arms.

“Ballora! Fight!” Gregory shouted. “You are a gladiator!” Ballora turned her face, lowered her eyelids and slowly raised them, turning around and standing in Golden's path. “Yes, get him!” Gregory jumped up, and Max, clutching his shoulder tightly, pulled him toward the exit.

Ballora didn't make a good gladiator. The ballerina only had time to spread her legs wide and lean forward, preparing for close combat. From Golden's kick, Ballora collapsed to the floor, spreading her arms, but at the same time trying to kick the yellow bear. Golden let out another deep roar, a creaking solo of an unlubricated mechanism. And began trampling Ballora with the fury of an enraged elephant. Max watched as her gladiator career crumbled. He came to his senses when Ballora's broken head rolled across the kitchen and her body turned into a pile of scrap metal. Max cursed and pushed resisting Gregory into the hallway while the kid, with teenage certainty, took Ballora's defeat as his own failure and was eager to fight.

“Harrison,” Max hissed. Harrison froze and just shifted his wide-open eyes from one animatronic to another. Having finished with the hapless gladiator Ballora, Golden stepped over a large piece of the ballerina's torso and rushed toward the boys. Harrison recoiled against the wall. Max barely had time to crouch down before a springy body flew past and struck Golden squarely in the side with a loud clang. The springy body gathered itself, shook its fox-like head, clacked its teeth and jumped up. Like a red tornado, Foxy rushed out of the depths of the kitchen. Hit by Mangle, staggering Golden swung his leg, ready to strike back. But Mangle, apparently tired of being a ball, hurried to get away. Mangle scurried across the floor, climbed up the wall, crawled across the ceiling, instilling animal fear, and darted into the ventilation system. Foxy flew at Golden, knocked him off his feet, and a pile of red and gold metal rolled across the floor, clattering and clanking. Freddy had managed to get to his feet by this time and joined the team of observers, consisting of Bonnie and a strange, in Max's opinion, striped doll, which Harrison immediately recognized as the Marionette.

“Everyone, calm down. Right. Now,” Marionette said, stressing each word. “Cassie! Michael! I said Michael! Miiichael!”

Growling discontentedly, Golden rose from the floor and stood at attention. Foxy hung from his metal ear like a surrealistic clip, his toes barely touching the floor. Foxy didn't open his metal jaws, and only the red sensor pulsed with red light. The puppet sighed heavily and deeply, so much so that she could rival the Canterville ghost, pulled an old flashlight out of the folds of her striped suit, clicked the switch and tapped it against her hand. The light flickered and flashed. The puppet directed the beam into Foxy's eye. The jaws opened, releasing the poor ear, which was left with dents – a peculiar imprint of fox teeth. Standing up, Foxy growled, tore the patch from his eye and, to Harrison's amazement, stared at the Marionette with his whole functioning eye, stomped over to her, snatched the flashlight from her thin hands and demonstratively trampled it underfoot.

“What's the occasion for this party?” chanted Marionette, bringing her white face close to Foxy's toothy muzzle.

“Ask… him…” Foxy clacked his teeth.

“Cassidy?” Marionette turned her head. “What are you up to?”

“Killing them,” Golden replied laconically.

“Bad idea. Or is there a reason?” the puppet chanted again.

“There is. They're here. And I can kill them.”

“You can. Or you can choose not to kill them.”

“Name at least one reason.”

“You're not William.”

Golden froze, his jaw dropping and rising. His eyes flashed brightly and flickered with red sensors. “They destroyed Chica!”

“Gaby.” Marionette's voice grew sad.

“We released her!” Harrison shouted, and Max squeezed his wrist tighter. “We released Gaby!”

“Exactly.” Golden turned his massive head. “And I'm going to release them!”

Foxy tensed, ready to attack. And the Marionette hung her hands.

“I dare you, tin can!” Max jerked Harrison behind his back. “Your Gaby has actually been released! He saw it!” Max pointed toward Bonnie. Bonnie nodded.

Foxy froze, and a ghostly figure appeared near the Marionette. “I saw it too. She left. After his seditious conversations.”

“Really?” The Marionette fell like a rag doll, and a girl hurried to Harrison, passing by the blind eyes of attentive Max. “You know how to release ghosts?”

“No,” Harrison admitted honestly. “She left on her own. But Fritz couldn’t. Something is keeping him here.”

Max looked at Harrison in surprise, and Harrison shrugged.

“So.” The ghost girl pondered, propping her chin on her fist. “If we figure out the reasons for the anchor, we'll be free, right?”

“Charlie.” Michael put his elbow on Foxy, who was frozen in place. “She, Gaby, confessed to him,” he nodded at Harrison, “burst into tears and dissolved into space. Annihilated. Disappeared, turned into nothing.”

“No,” Harrison protested. “She went to another world.”

“I'm not so sure.” Michael closed one eye. “I've seen it in movies. She crumbled and annihilated.”

“Stupid movies,” Harrison flushed. “I bet it's unscientific fiction!”

“It's totally scientific!” Michael smiled broadly.

“Gregory,” Harrison kept his eyes on Michael, “what happens during annihilation?”

“You've completely lost your mind, wizard.” Gregory twirled his finger at his temple.

“Particles and antiparticles transform into some other crap,” Max replied in surprise for the kid. “Why?”

“Or into physical field quanta, releasing energy in the process,” Gregory added, clearly showing off.

“The ghosts don't believe that Gaby left, not disappeared,” Harrison said gloomily. “They take old science fiction at face value!” he added, looking at Michael. “But nothing just disappears.”

“Exactly,” Gregory confirmed. “She could have become a particle of a force field or energy, shattered into protons and electrons–”

Michael laughed sarcastically.

“Gregory!” Harrison interrupted his brother. “You're confirming their fears.”

“So what?” Max slumped. “Gaby wasn't material either. Wasn't she? She herself was a wave structure. And she passed into another wave structure. I assume without dissipating.”

“Well, science hasn't figured that out yet.” Gregory rubbed the back of his head. “Shaggy, to say you've surprised me is an understatement. And you, Harrison, tell those ghosts that Max is proof of the theory of reincarnation. I'm sure he blew the minds of his contemporaries in the past. I bet he's Max Planck. As for your ghost, he lacks a spirit of exploration.”

“Are you kidding me?” Michael exclaimed indignantly. “The price of the question is my existence.”

“What's going on here?” Dolph peered into the kitchen, Preston shifting from foot to foot behind him.

“Negotiations with the pilots of the animatronics,” Max growled. “They don't want to be annihilated.”

“That's understandable,” Dolph said, furrowing his brow.

Harrison covered his face with his hands.

“As for me,” Fritz stood next to Michael, “there's nothing worse than this damn animatronic prison. Besides, I don't even know who I am. Sometimes Bonnie devours me. And he then spits me out. And I think,” he put his finger to his forehead, “why did I go there? Why did I think that?”

“Then let go of what's keeping you here,” said Charlie, still in the pose of a thinker.

“How?! I want to leave. But I can't.” Fritz sat down and pouted.

“What are you talking about?” A boy with a mischievous face and a sharp gaze shoved Fritz in the shoulder. “I told you, we should have killed them right away. And now look what we've got. I don't even know what to call it.”

“An existential crisis,” Harrison suggested.

“Shut up,” Cassidy wrinkled his nose. “Those like you should be burned. It was a fine tradition, too bad they banned it.”

“I'd like to burn someone else.” Fritz smirked crookedly.

“That someone don't burn.” Cassidy shook his head.

“He did burn,” Michael said sadly, glancing cautiously at Freddy.

“I doubt it,” Fritz said.

“Why are you all so distrustful?” Harrison looked at Michael.

“Bitter experience,” Cassidy said with bitterness in his voice. “We should have been like that before. Right, Fritz?”

Fritz just nodded.

“So we need to find that someone.” Harrison cheered up. “And then Fritz will forgive himself.”

“Springtrap?!” Fritz raised his head.

“Yes.” Harrison nodded. “Find Springtrap and make sure he's burned for good. Right?”

“And I need to see Dad.” Charlie opened her eyes wide.

“And I need to stop listening to your nonsense.” Cassidy disappeared. Golden came to life and, stomping loudly, left the kitchen.

While Harrison patiently explained the mood of the ghosts to his friends gathered in a circle, the latter behaved in an extremely stereotypical manner, simply floating around the room in complete silence. Harrison occasionally glanced at their sad figures and pale faces.

“I get it,” Dolph interrupted the long tirade. “Enough talk, it's time to act.”

“And we need to find Henry the technician.” Max tapped his fingertips on his thigh. “Someone needs to go upstairs. I think it should be Preston and Gregory.”

“Why is that?” Preston fluttered his eyelashes and pouted his lips.

“First of all, you're afraid, and it's safer up there–”

“What if I run into Golden? Or Springtrap?”

“You won't. It's our job to follow their trail.”

“I'll go after Springtrap.” Dolph's face became serious. “He's the big boss here. This is right up my alley. At the same time, I'll look for my gun and Space Kid. I have a feeling that Springtrap took my gun.”

“Springtrap must be out of commission, offline.” Gregory closed one eye. “Were you even listening?”

“I doubt it. I think that cunning bastard is faking being out.”

“So, here's the deal. Preston and the kid, your job is to bring the old man who invented those creepy machines to his daughter. Dolph, you find what's left of Springtrap, and Harrison and I will find Golden. Let's play good cop, bad cop with him.” Max didn't look up at Harrison and flinched when the boy touched his shoulder.

“Fritz will go with Dolph,” Harrison said, and to confirm his words, Bonnie, who had been asleep for a while, came to life and took a few steps, turning his fire-mangled face, or rather, its absence, toward the group of kids.

“What a joy.” Dolph frowned. “I'll go myself.”

“No.” Harrison shook his head. “Fritz needs it.”

“Don't be a fool, Dolph.” Max raised his head. “He can be useful if another animatronic attacks you. Mangle, for example.”

“Well, an extra combat unit.” Dolph thought for a moment. “He can come with me, but I'm in charge. Got it?” He looked defiantly at the animatronic. The rabbit didn't react. Dolph stood up, clenched his fists, and approached Bonnie. “Either you obey, or I'm going alone! I don't need a rebellious partner!”

Bonnie sighed wistfully, with a long, growling sound.

Max walked without looking back. Still, he could feel with his spine that Harrison was following him. The gray walls of the long corridor, with garlands of wires and cobwebs in the light of a flickering lone lamp, seemed ghostly and unreal, like everything else here in this strange basement. Dust rose from his footsteps.

“So what are you going to tell him, missionary?” Max stopped. There was a dark area ahead.

“No idea, if you mean Golden.” Max felt a breath on his neck. Harrison didn't expect Max to stop and ran into him, but immediately backed away.

“Is that so?” Max turned around.

“What surprises you?” Harrison's face was in shadow, only his hair was illuminated by a distant lamp. “You made the decision yourself, without consulting me.”

“And yet you came with me.”

“I did.” Harrison shrugged. “Although I don't understand why you need Golden. To me, he's the most difficult and confusing character. I don't understand him at all. And we're looking for him”

“You wanted to release all the ghosts! Didn't you? All except Golden, it seems.”

“But what if we fail? I don't know if we can release Charlie, Fritz, Michael and Evan, Nikki, and you are attempting to release Cassidy, the most challenging one. The only one more problematic is Liz…”

“Who?”

“The sister.”

“Wait, Harrison, I'm completely confused.” Max's eyes darted from side to side. “Liz, Evan… How many are there? Who do you want to save?”

“I don't know.” Harrison brushed a strand of Max's hair behind his ear. “Michael. And Evan. Cassidy probably likes it here.”

“You think so? Who could like it here?” Max frowned. “And how is Michael better than Cassidy?”

“What?” Harrison's eyelashes fluttered.

“You don't want to give Cassidy a chance at freedom and you only care about your crush!” Max pursed his lips.

Harrison lowered his head.

“Fine.” Max grabbed Harrison's wrist and pulled him back the way they had come. “Whatever you want! Let's save Michael.” He struggled to say this name. “To hell with everyone else! Why the fuck did we even send the guys after Henry?”

Max pulled Harrison along with him, his blood boiling. Harrison jerked his hand away, and before Max could turn to him, Harrison's fist smashed into his cheek so hard that his teeth clattered. Max shook his head, his hands clenched into fists. The next second, he lunged at Harrison, and both boys rolled across the floor. Harrison squirmed, trying to kick Max, who pinned him to the floor and pounded him with his fists. And then he pressed his lips against Harrison's in a rough kiss. Harrison fell silent and went limp. Max didn't break the kiss, kissing him powerfully and passionately, trying with all his might to cope with the panic and asking himself what the hell he was doing. Harrison ran his fingers through Max's curly hair and responded, his lips burning hot and soft. Max closed his eyes, deciding to deal with the reasons for his uncontrollable behavior later.

“Can your ghost do that?” Max whispered into Harrison's lips. Harrison opened his eyes wide, sucked in air loudly, ready to explode with indignation, but he couldn't. Harrison was drawn back into the kiss.

Preston couldn't control himself. He was nervous and breathed rhythmically to calm himself, counting the seconds as he inhaled and exhaled. Not only were he and Gregory right under the police's nose, in a lobby sealed off by police with alarming yellow tape, but they were also on stage with four freaking animatronics immersed in sleep.

“Freddy, come on, bro,” whispered Gregory. “Say hi to Preston.”

“Don't,” hissed Preston. Gregory laughed, and Preston shook his fist at him.

“Come on.” Gregory teased his frightened friend. “Freddy sent a message about the malfunction. Henry will be here soon.” He stretched. “It's done. All we have to do now is wait for Henry to come down to the basement.” He walked across the smooth floor with a gliding step, not at all concerned that a passerby might see the kid through the huge windows in the area sealed off with yellow tape.

Preston rolled his eyes, whispering curses at Max. And… he lost sight of the brat. Preston gasped, his eyes wide, and ran. He peeked around the corner. No one there. He spun around the hall. No one. Preston ran through the game rooms, peering in and shouting the boy's name. No one… And he screamed when the nasty teenager and hung on his back like a backpack. Taken by surprise, Preston lunged forward, the backpack held tight. Preston tried to throw off the load, banging it against the wall, even rolling on the floor while Gregory laughed heartily.

“Oh, you.” Preston rolled around.

“Who did you think it was?”

“I'll get you and give you a thrashing. And your brother won't help you,” Preston grunted. “Not even Freddy will help you.”

“Shh.” Max raised himself up slightly and listened intently. Harrison grew anxious, and Max covered his mouth with his hand, leaning close to his ear. “Quiet, I said.” The boys pressed themselves against the floor of the dark corridor. Harrison tried to peer over Max's head. “On the ceiling,” Max whispered. And Harrison froze, noticing a shadow gliding across the ceiling.

In the light of a single lamp, a metal surface flashed white. Teeth clicked, a spring stretched, and Mangle plopped onto the floor like a tired bat. “Nasty Max,” Mangle said. And Max got wary. But Mangle apparently didn’t notice the boys. The broken robot got up and sat back down on the floor, spreading her legs wide. “Baby was telling the truth. Baby is a true friend. And Neil is a liar.” And she crawled across the floor, the grinding sounds fading away.

“What the fuck is going on?” Max whispered.

If the boys had followed the mangled robot, they would have learned something about Mangle's recent past and pieced together the puzzle, but they remained lying in the dust, hiding behind a pile of junk and under the cover of darkness.

And Mangle kept crawling on her unfit hands, crawling through long corridors, leaving a trail in the dust and grumbling under her breath like an old woman offended by the world. She crawled until she encountered a huge doll in a narrow corridor.

“Where have you been, my friend?” Baby blinked.

“Baby, why don't I remember how I got here? I remember running through the forest at your call… Oh! I was running to my friends! I have to save them!”

“The rules of the game have changed a little,” the doll said sweetly. “In this dream, you have no friends.”

“Am I asleep?”

“Doesn't this seem like a dream?”

“I guess so. And I'm stuck in a long sleep. I wish I could wake up.”

“Hey, metal head, how did you get yourself into this mess?” Dolph couldn’t relax in Bonnie’s company. Especially when this Bonnie was walking behind his back. “Did you just screw up? Or is that maniac as cunning as an old fox? I think it’s the former. You're just a kid. Right?”

Bonnie let out a long moan.

“What were you saying about losing yourself? Are you in control now?”

Bonnie let out another long howl, then strode forward, forcing Dolph to press himself against the wall.

“Good idea. If you go crazy, I'll have the advantage.”

Bonnie walked forward silently. And Dolph got a little scared. With every turn, the corridors became more and more neglected and darker.

“Are you trying to lure me into a dark corner? Huh? Iron head?”

Bonnie remained silent.

“So much fun with you,” Dolph growled and thought that perhaps he should have brought at least the heavy frying pan with him. “So how did you get killed?”

Bonnie growled menacingly.

“Okay, you let your guard down. That's an unforgivable mistake when dealing with maniacs. Don't worry. You lost the battle, not the war.”

Preston pressed himself against the basement wall as heavy footsteps echoed above. A metal door flew off its hinges, and the bright animatronic Freddy froze in the doorway.

“What's wrong with you?” A frail old man, aged beyond his years, hurried after him.

“He's fine!” Gregory shouted, and the old man gasped, then after a few seconds took out his phone and shone its flashlight into the darkness.

“What's going on is that you and your friend have created monsters,” Preston said.

“Who are you?” The old man squinted and peered intently.

“That's not important,” Gregory cut him off. “What's important is that someone wants to shed light on your daughter's death.”

“That's very cruel, young man,” the old man said sadly. His hand instinctively reached for his pocket.

“Yeah, like everything else related to animatronics. Except for the latest generation, of course. I suppose the reason for the successful batch is that the evil genius bit the dust. So, Henry, are you coming with us?” Gregory jerked his chin defiantly.

Dolph stopped and took a couple of steps back. Yes, the boy wasn't mistaken: deep in the dark room, right under the light of a single lamp, on an old wooden chair without a backrest, the glass of a customized commander's watch was glistening. Dolph was ready to bet that it was the very same watch his father had given him. He was also willing to bet that this was a very simple trap, and only a complete fool would fall for it. But the stakes were high. He stood in the doorway, biting his lip, examining the peeling paint spots on the chair and the bloodstains, which were fairly fresh. Once again, Dolph regretted not bringing at least a heavy frying pan. After all, Dolph decided, this chair could serve as a “frying pan”. The boy exhaled. He lifted his foot and froze, sensing the presence of the enemy. He stared intently into the darkness, feeling the enemy's impatience. And he was right. The darkness in the far corner stirred and flashed with red eye sensors.

“Damn!” Dolph cursed. He estimated the distance to the chair.

“Why don't you take your thing, my dear, sweet boy?” the doll chanted, and Baby emerged from the darkness.

“The sweet boy is deeply offended that you have prepared such a simple ambush. You could have tried a little harder,” said Dolph. A heavy metal hand rested on his shoulder. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “Cover my back, partner.” And rushed toward the chair.

Baby didn't move. Dolph grabbed the blood-sticky watch and grimaced in disgust. He spun around sharply and slipped in a pool of blood. Dolph pirouetted, regained his balance and pursed his lips. From the other corner of the room, the one closer to the exit, a rabbit slowly approached. A dirty green rabbit with bloodstains, a burnt body in places, and empty glass eyes.

“Bonnie!” Dolph shouted and reached for the chair. The plan was ready. Dolph knew how to escape. All that remained was for Bonnie to distract the two-armed rabbit, at the very least, or knock it down, at most. But Bonnie chose an unexpected option. After saying “Springtrap”, he froze, stood still on the threshold and, flashing his sensors, went into sleep mode.

Cursing again, Dolph threw the chair at the green rabbit. The chair hit his chest with a dull thud and shattered. The rabbit staggered, fell against the wall and slid down it. Noticing the movement out of the corner of his eye, Dolph ducked. Baby was attacking. But the slow doll wasn't even worth a counterattack. The boy was more worried about Springtrap, who was stretched out near the exit. Baby comically spread her arms, trying to catch Dolph. Dolph's heart was pounding. He had to hurry before the rabbit got up. Then it would be easy for the two of them to corner him.

Dolph abruptly retreated into the darkness and, growling with tension and pressing his back against the wall, overturned a heavy cabinet. His calculations proved correct, and the cabinet crashed down on Baby with a bang, rags spilling out of the open doors. Baby waved her arms helplessly while the rabbit had managed to get up. Dolph smirked, no more than five yards to the exit.

“Mangle!” Baby screamed, and Dolph heard the familiar creaking of springs.

“What an interesting specimen. You will take a worthy place in my zoo,” the rabbit grunted, laughing.

“Go fuck yourself, freak.” Keeping Baby, who was still extricating herself from the rags, and Springtrap, who was advancing, in his field of vision, Dolph tried to determine where Mangle was going to attack from. “Or, as they used to say in your day, suck a lemon!”

“Rude boy,” Springtrap grunted. “I like those. I have a gift for you.”

“Keep it for yourself!”

“You should try on a suit,” Springtrap exhaled and lunged at the boy. The boy jumped back against the wall and rushed to the center of the room, avoiding the tight corners. Frozen like a statue, Bonnie loomed behind the threshold.

A fox's muzzle hung from the ceiling, snapping its sharp teeth. Dolph recoiled and felt the corner with his back. Moving along the wall, he searched with his eyes for anything he could use as a weapon. His foot pushed against a soft side. Dolph lowered his eyes for a second.

“Space Kid!”

There was no point in checking if the boy was still alive. Dolph understood this, but he couldn't take his eyes off the lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

“You bastard!” Dolph clenched his lips. “I'll tear you to pieces, you filth! I'll roast you over a slow fire! I'm going to kill you over and over again! And send you straight to hell!” Dolph was breathing heavily.

Mangle collapsed on the floor. “It's a bad dream. I don't like this dream. I don't like nightmares.”

“Dream?” Dolph laughed hysterically. “Then wake up, bitch! Dream!”

“Mangle! Kill him!” Baby barked.

“I'm tired of this. It's a bad game!”

“Shitty game.” Dolph's nostrils flared.

“As Neil would say, it's the worst fucking game ever,” Mangle rasped.

“Neil? Who are you?” Dolph squinted at her suspiciously.

“Nikki,” Mangle said with difficulty.

“What the hell?” Dolph took a step forward and crouched down, looking into the broken fox's face. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It's a dream–”

“It's not a fucking dream! How did you become an animatronic? Which bitch killed you?”

“Killed? Me? No, Dolph, you've got it wrong. Baby called me. I ran through the forest and fell asleep. And now I'm in a dream.”

“Nikki,” Dolph lowered his head and, clenching his fists, stood up, “you bastards killed Nikki. You bitches crossed the line! I will never forgive you for this girl's death!” He rammed his shoulder into Baby's side, the doll staggered, and Dolph kicked her, causing her to stagger even more. She spread her arms. “When… Max finds out…!” He kept pushing and pushing the doll like crazy.

“Dolph! Thank you!”

Dolph didn't stop, beating his knuckles bloody against Baby's metal body.

“You…” Mangle rasped. “I… No one needed me at the camp.”

“So what?” Dolph breathed heavily. “No one needs me either, except for fucking David. Why the fuck should I care whether anyone needs me?” He beat and kicked the doll. “I need myself!”

“Me too. Baby, you were wrong. I have a friend. It's me.” Mangle rolled over and sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling. “Dolph, Mangle killed Neil."

“That bitch.” Dolph straightened up. “You,” he kicked Baby, who was lying on the floor, “will answer for Neil too.”

“Yes, break Mangle,” the fox rasped. “Mangle must be broken, and Nikki will go with Neil.” Mangle's eyes went blank.

The air was forced out of Dolph's lungs by the strong grip, blood rushed to his face, and a disgusting smell of decay hit his nostrils. His vision darkened, and a rattle escaped from his chest. Then came a jolt that nearly knocked his head off his vertebrae. There was a clang of metal, and Dolph slipped out of Springtrap's grasp. Catching his breath, he crawled away. Poor one-armed Bonnie was pushing Springtrap into a corner. Bonnie growled and stomped loudly with his heavy feet.

“Elizabeth!” Springtrap shouted. The doll stirred, rolling over with difficulty, and sat down with her legs wide apart.

“Elizabeth,” the doll said, blinking. “I haven't heard that name from you in a long time, Dad. The last time you called me by my name…” She closed her eyes. “I don't even remember.”

“Elizabeth!” Springtrap went on the attack. Now he was pushing Bonnie against the wall.

“You really still don't get what your dad is like?” Dolph stood up, kicked sleeping Mangle over and ripped the wires sticking out of her back, not noticing how he had scratched his fingers bloody.

“I get it, Dad.” The doll looked like she was about to cry. Bonnie pushed Springtrap away and got out of the corner. Like two dancers, the rabbits spun along the wall. “I just wanted your attention, Dad. Your love. Why? I lost my mom. I lost Michael, and Evan. I lost myself, Dad.”

“Stop this nonsense, Elizabeth,” Springtrap slowly turned around. “Are you even capable of anything? You had one job! Kill the boy!”

“I don't want to,” Baby said quietly.

“Useless kid.” Springtrap's words fell heavily, like blows. “Bastard. What else could I have expected from you? I'll do it myself!” He moved toward Dolph, but Bonnie grabbed him by the shoulder.

“And I'm glad I'm not related to you,” Baby said, placing her hands on her knees. “I wonder if Mom will forgive me.”

“It's your mom.” Dolph snorted. “They always forgive.”

“Really?” Baby turned her head, her red sensors blinking.

“Ask her. Bonnie, let's go.” Dolph cautiously circled the doll.

“Liz will ask,” Baby said. And Dolph froze. Her sensors went out.

“Oh, wow.” He rubbed his chin. “I'm cooler than Constantine today. Okaaay.” He went behind her and, breaking his nails, removed the panel. Pulling out the sensors with the wires, Dolph looked sadly at his bloodied hands. Bonnie's heavy footsteps made him get up. They were leaving, and Springtrap was getting up, holding onto the wall.

“Springtrap isn't that dangerous.” Dolph stopped when they had walked through several corridors. “We just need a plan. We retreated, but we got valuable information. It was reconnaissance in force. Now that son of a bitch won't get away from us. Now I'm going to hunt you down, bastard.”

“Yeah… he's not… that… scary,” Bonnie croaked.

“What the fuck is scary about him? He's disgusting and repulsive.”

“I'm... not afraid… of him… Not… anymore.”

“Good for you, bro. You fought bravely. You beat the shit out of your killer.”

“Yeah... out of him… Thanks.”

“You did it yourself, bro.”

Bonnie turned around and sat down heavily, holding onto the wall with his hand. “He won't… get through.”

“What are you up to?”

“I don't want… to stay.”

“Oh, really?” Dolph couldn't see the rabbit's eye sensors. “Hey, Bonnie! Fritz? Fritz, answer me. I'm not fucking Harrison. I don't see ghosts. Fritz! Fritz, are you there?! Let's just say you're gone.” He opened the panel on the animatronic's back. “Go. I'll avenge you.”

Max's lips were swollen from kissing. So were Harrison's. After seeing Mangle off, the boys immediately returned to their interrupted activity. They paid no attention to the centuries-old dust on the floor or the crackling ceiling lamp. At the touch of the fingertips to his bare skin, Max froze, his body covered in goose bumps and his heart racing. Max enjoyed the new sensations and openly admired Harrison. The long eyelashes of his half-closed eyes cast trembling shadows on his cheekbones. The graceful oval of his face. His sensual lips. Even the hair stuck to his forehead.

And in an instant, he pulled away, rising on straightened arms, lowering his head and hiding behind strands of hair. Harrison opened his eyes wide. “Max?” Max blushed and quickly stood up. “Max!” Harrison's voice was insistent.

“Damn it, Harrison.” Max turned away.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Max, looking terribly awkward, paced back and forth.

“What happened?”

“I'm dirty. I need a napkin. Can't you pull one out of your sleeve, magician?”

Harrison laughed, then quickly apologized, trying to look serious.

“I don't find it funny, Harrison. I don't like being wet. Damp. It's gross.”

Hiding his smile, but unable to hide the satisfied gleam in his eyes, Harrison jumped up briskly and, twirling his hands in the air, revealed a small white object in his open palm to his sole spectator.

“A sock?” Max frowned. “Well, whatever, it’ll do.” He grabbed the white sock and turned away from Harrison.

“Sorry, I haven’t done this in a while. I was holding back. That’s why it didn’t turn out like a napkin.”

The crumpled sock flew into the corner. Max turned around and stomped his feet, checking. “That's better,” Max concluded. “You should practice more often, Harrison. Let's get back to the guys.”

“What about Cassidy?”

“You,” Max pursed his lips, “were right. We're not ready to face Golden.”

Before they even reached the kitchen, they heard a scream turning into sobs. And muffled wailing. Harrison raised an eyebrow.

“Either the technician found out the truth, or Preston lost his mind.” Max didn’t stop. “There's also another option. Dolph fucked someone up.”

The boys sped up, almost breaking into a run.

In the middle of the kitchen, an old man in a worn suit with frayed sleeves was kneeling, hunched over. He clutched his head and swayed from side to side like a reed in the wind.

“William,” he repeated. “How could you?”

“Dad, it's not your fault,” Marionette chanted.

“Of course it is!” sobbed the old man, drooling. “I wasn't there to protect you. So much grief! So many parents grieved over the children he killed. William!” He shook his fist in the air.

“Dad.” Marionette leaned toward Henry's face. “My soul is at peace now. I will no longer be chained to this doll.”

“It was supposed to protect you.”

“It tried. It tried its best, Dad. And it gave shelter to my soul. Until the day I was able to talk to you. I don't need it anymore. Break it, Dad. Promise me.”

“I will, Charlotte. I love you, my little girl.”

“I love you too, Dad,” Marionette smiled with a painted smile. And collapsed like a rag doll. Henry howled louder, pressed the rags to his chest and with trembling hands rummaged through the ruffles until he found the panel.

“Well,” Preston said, rubbing his nose. “That's very sad.”

“Yeah.” Gregory nodded. “A plot for a tearjerker movie.”

“Dolph?” Preston narrowed his eyes, peering into the depths of the kitchen.

“What does Dolph have to do with it, Preston?” Max furrowed his brow. And Harrison silently pointed toward the pushed-together tables.

Sullen Dolph, in torn clothes and armed with a pistol, carried Balloon Boy under his arm. The latter rolled his eyes and kicked his legs.

“Can you imagine? This creep came out of the darkness and pointed a gun at me. Hello, bitch! My gun!” He threw the little animatronic on the floor. Balloon Boy jumped up and, stomping his feet, disappeared into the dark corridor. “It even stole my sock. I didn't even fucking notice. Now the sneaker are rubbing my foot.”

“The white one?” Max tilted his head.

“What? The sock? The sock is white.”

“Fuck! Harrison!”

“I haven't practiced in a long time. I imagined a napkin–”

“I have some good news for you. Fritz is gone.” Dolph raised his hand and bent one finger. “Minus Bonnie. Elizabeth is gone. Minus Baby.” He bent a second finger. “Nikki's gone. Minus Mangle.” And immediately bent a third.

“What do you mean, Nikki is Mangle?” Max frowned.

“I told you,” Harrison said capriciously.

“What about Golden?” Dolph asked.

“We… um… didn't find him,” Max replied.

“I see.” Dolph's gaze fell on Marionette. “Minus four.”

“My little girl is free,” Henry whimpered, sobbing. “My poor girl.”

“I see. What about these two?” Dolph turned to Freddy and Foxy.

“Yeah,” Max interjected. “You guys should get out of here too.”

Foxy turned his face toward him and flashed his sensor.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Max slumped. “Grab your brother and get out of here. The basement is no place for children.” He squinted at Gregory.

“No… place.” Foxy looked at Freddy. Freddy didn't move, a small translucent figure peeking cautiously from behind Freddy's back. As if spying. Michael appeared next to Foxy. “Evan, I'm sorry. I ask for your forgiveness, because I can't forgive myself. You died with my consent. I'm complicit in the death of the person I love most. I punished myself every day. I hated our father for it. I voluntarily became Foxy's prisoner. I chose death. Death by the animatronic's fangs. To die feeling the same pain my little brother felt. I died to be with you. You were afraid of animatronics. I can imagine how scared you must have been among them. And… I died so you wouldn't be alone, Evan.”

Harrison stared at them wide-eyed.

“What's going on?” Preston shook his head.

“Shh,” Gregory hissed. “He saw ghosts, what don't you understand?”

Evan cautiously, like a frightened animal, distrustfully emerged from behind Freddy, who was still clutching the old stuffed toy in his metal hand. “And we'll go together?” the boy asked, stopping and hesitating to approach his brother. The teen nodded. “But what's there?”

“We'll find out.” Michael approached his brother and ruffled his ghostly head.

“Will you always be with me?

“Of course, little one.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He pulled his brother close and hugged him tightly. Evan's thin arms wrapped around his waist, his face buried in Michael's chest.

“What about Dad?” Evan lifted his face. “What if Dad kills someone else?”

“No, he won't,” Michael lifted the boy's chin and smiled, “Cassidy and I took care of that.”

Evan's face lit up with a smile. Soon both figures were glowing, glowing with a dazzling blue light. Harrison's eyes watered, but the light grew brighter and brighter, dissolving the two figures. Harrison wanted to call Michael, but changed his mind, deciding not to interfere. The last thing he saw was Michael turning and winking at him. And when the light faded, all that remained was emptiness. Harrison's chest tightened. Emptiness, emptiness with a taste of longing and loss. Harrison looked down and whispered, “They're gone. Gone.”

“So we only have Cassidy left. Golden,” Max said, and Harrison looked up, lingering on the emerald of Max's eyes.

“And Springtrap,” Dolph said loudly.

“What?” everyone gasped in unison.

“Is he alive?” Max asked, hoping to hear a non-obvious answer.

“More like alive. He cornered me with Baby and Mangle on three sides. In a small room.” Dolph noticed Preston's devouring gaze on him. “Good thing the girls bailed. If it weren't for Bonnie, I'd be lying next to Space Kid. Oh, by the way, Space Kid is dead.”

“That Springtrap…” Harrison bit his lip.

“I want to deal with him myself.” Henry stood up.

“Yes, please,” Max agreed. “But first, take care of these two.” Max glanced at Foxy.

Voices and laughter came from the kitchen. Figures flashed by, shadows glided across the floor. The unnoticed observer lowered his golden head. Stepping silently with heavy feet, he wandered into the darkness of the corridor.

🍕 🍕 🍕

The animatronics presentation was noisy. Children were given free ice cream, and the restaurant's signature pizza was on sale for half price. The children ran around the pizzeria, entertaining themselves as best they could. The adults chatted, paying no attention to the new toy. Only a few interested people asked questions and marveled at the wonders of technology and electronics.

“Actors.” Cassidy spat on the floor. He thought for a moment, put on a charming angelic expression and headed straight for the ice cream cart.

A young woman shook her head. “You've already had three,” she said, smiling.

Cassidy fluttered his long white eyelashes. “Your ice cream is unbelievably delicious, miss. I can't resist.” He stroked the top of the cart. “My parents don't give me any pocket money. They're punishing me, miss.” He looked straight at her. “For feeding stray kittens.”

“Kid.” The woman became more serious. “First of all, I don't believe you–”

“I'm not lying!”

“Okay, but I can't give you all the ice cream.”

“I'm not asking for all of it! Or…” He put his hand on his chest. “Is there a catch to the free ice cream? Is it just a clever marketing ploy to drain money under the guise of charity?”

The girl abruptly opened the cart's refrigerator and handed the boy an ice cream.

“I don't want that one, it's squashed. He leaned over the refrigerator himself and thought for a moment, ice vapor swirling up. Cassidy tapped his finger on his lips, pulled out a pack and smiled broadly. “You're a very kind person, miss. God bless you with a good fiancé!”

The woman rolled her eyes. Cassidy threw the wrapper into the overflowing basket and took a bite, enjoying the treat with relish.

An iron animatronic stood on the stage, a tall man fussing and chirping around it. A second man, covered in grease, sat modestly at the edge of the stage. The small audience was enthralled. Cassidy threw his half-eaten ice cream into the trash and pushed his way to the front of the stage. With a businesslike air, he climbed up, walked around the iron animatronic figure and stepped back, folding his arms like a connoisseur.

“Mimic will be a great addition to any establishment! It can not only entertain, but also do any job!”

“Freak!” Cassidy said loudly. “It'll scare all the children away!” Cassidy stood in front of Mimic and looked into its face. “Hmm. So, what can you do? Oh, right. Everything! Do a somersault!”

Mimic's glass eyes flashed, and it turned toward the boy with a creak. “Define the task.”

“A somersault, you stupid tin can! A somersault! Can't you do it?!” Cassidy laughed, and Mimic blinked its glass eyes. Cassidy jumped off the stage. “Any job, they said.”

“This is a self-learning model!” the creator exclaimed.

“This is an ugly model, sir!” Cassidy turned around. “Don't you have children? Children love toys, not iron frames. You saved money on the body.” He snorted.

“The boy is right,” added the man covered in grease. “William, we need to make it look pretty. Give it the appearance of a bear, a bunny, or a chicken–”

“What are you talking about, Henry?! This is futuristic style. In the future, all cafes will have animatronic mimics, iron workers, not bunnies.”

Cassidy laughed loudly. “You just presented an unfinished prototype! Deadlines were tight, weren't they? Showing us such an eyesore! No one would present an unfinished prototype! What is this? Wires, pistons, metal parts! Where is your sense of taste?”

Cassidy walked away satisfied, his hands in the pockets of his short pants.

“Hi, Mr. Slipshod,” Cassidy said loudly. William grimaced, jerked his chin up proudly, and turned away.

Two life-size mascots walked around the pizzeria and interacted with the children. The boy watched them for a while, then walked up to one and kicked it in the ankle.

“Hey, grizzly monster, give me a ride. Why are you just staring at me?” He stood on his tiptoes and looked into its mouth. “Is there a person inside?

Out of the corner of his eye, the boy noticed the second robot walking away too quickly. Cassidy rushed towards it. A bloody stain appeared on the robot's chest.

“A shot rabbit? Aaaah! A rabbit covered in blood! It killed a visitor! Aaaah! Parents, save your children!”

A waiter rushed over to the boy while other employees picked up the robot and dragged it into the staff quarters. “It's okay, kid. It's just the animator who got hurt.”

“Reeeally? That's traumatic for a child's psyche.” They gave the boy a glass of soda. He drank it in one gulp, glancing into the corridors of the service rooms. “I suppose you have a high turnover rate. With working conditions like these. Did you cut corners on safety?”

The waiters tried to distract Cassidy, as well as the other restaurant guests. Pizza, cola, and unlimited time on arcade games. Cassidy took advantage of this with the air of a carefree child, then slipped away and made his way into the mysterious dark corridors.

The empty costume, drenched in blood so much that Cassidy doubted the animator had survived, lay among the other props. Cassie narrowed his eyes. Who would agree to get into it? It was full of moving mechanisms. Metal parts and hooks. The boy shuddered. Hearing footsteps, he hid under the table.

“I put it on myself. It's not suitable for operators.”

“It just needs some adjustments.”

“No, William! Look, there's blood on my arm! See?! It cut me! It was a part of the shoulder drive. Either a suit without automation or a fully automated animatronic.”

“Henry!!! You're clipping my wings!”

“No! Absolutely not!”

“Okay.” William paced back and forth. “Mimic. Let's put Mimic in!”

“William,” Henry said sadly. “Mimic needs to be improved. Mimic is incomprehensible! Mimic is unpredictable!”

“It did great in Golden! It's decided! I'll make another one! And we'll put it in Spring Bonnie.”

Cassidy burst out from under the table with a loud noise. “But first, wash off the blood of the dead operator!” he exclaimed and rushed to the door. “This isn't Spring Bonnie, it's Springtrap! Spring bunny? Oh, please!”

Cassidy heard William shouting behind him, but couldn’t make out the words.

Cassidy arrived on Thanksgiving Day and immediately went to the pizzeria. What other entertainment is there in this small town? He wouldn't say that boarding school was a very fun place, but it was still more fun than his parents' house.

Opening the door, he whistled. The pizzeria had changed. New arcade machines, new tables, a new stage. And new animatronics. An animatronic duo. A rabbit imitated playing the guitar, and a bear in a bow tie sang into a microphone. An animatronic chicken slowly moved around the room with drinks on a tray.

Cassidy stopped at the stage. “Cool.” He jumped onto it.

“Kid, get off!” The waiter ran up to him.

“Newbie?” Cassie narrowed his eyes. “Were the old guys killed? By them?” He pointed behind him at the singing bear.

“What? Them? They're safe!”

“Then why can't I go up there? You're lying!”

“You can't just interrupt the show! Freddy's performing. If you want to play, go to Foxy! To the Pirate's Cove!”

“I don't like pirates. I want to play with Freddy! What's he like inside? Dangerous, like springlock suits?”

“Kid, what do you want?”

“Sir, I have a right to know about those things. How safe are they?”

“I'll call the manager.”

A young man sat on the windowsill and gazed into the distance. Cassidy slumped in a chair and listened to the monotonous lecture, deliberately couched in terms and dry technical descriptions. William restrained himself in the presence of one of the company's directors. After all, this kid was the most meticulous of the visitors. And, according to the directors' plan, once they convey the idea of safety to this boy, he will spread it to everyone else.

“Safe?” The boy closed one eye. “So safe that you're willing to climb inside yourself?”

“So safe that I can shove you inside,” William said seriously.

“I'm not a fool.” Cassidy interlaced his fingers. “Who tested the model? How was it certified?”

“Within the law.”

“Do you have the documents? And a license? Can I see your portfolio? And a list of inventions?”

“Kid! Why don't you go to the quarry? They've started construction outside the city. What are you doing here? There's nothing interesting here, everything is within the law.” William stood up, indicating that the conversation was over.

“Have some fun on the house, kid.” The director turned around. “And play with our brand new animatronics.”

Cassidy left, feeling a prickly gaze on himself.

Cassidy whistled. The quarry was truly enormous. The workers had left their construction equipment there and gone home. He slid down the gravel and peered into the huge pit filled with water. After throwing a few pebbles into it, Cassidy wandered around the huge machine. He wasn't tall enough to even reach the wheel. Running around and peering wherever he could, Cassidy noticed that the sun was almost below the horizon and hurried back home so as not to be late for dinner. And for his evening cartoon viewing.

With difficulty, he climbed out and dusted off his hands on his pants. Then he heard the rustle of gravel. The rays of the setting sun were blinding, and Cassie shaded his eyes with his hand. A long shadow stretched out to his feet.

“Oooh,” Cassidy drawled, “Mr. Slipshod.” He looked down. It was getting dark in the quarry.

“Nasty kid,” William said dryly. “Do you want to know what I'm working on now?”

“Who cares?”

“I do. Meet Golden Freddy!”

His car creaked heavily and swayed. A massive animatronic, or an operator in a costume, emerged and flashed red eye sensors.

“Ugly thing!” Cassidy shouted and jumped into the quarry. Gravel rolled down along with the sliding boy.

“Try on the suit!” William laughed eerily. For atmosphere, as if nature were lending its support, thunder rumbled. Lightning flashed, and lashing sheets of rain connected the sky and the earth, erasing all objects from the dim night landscape.

Cassidy cursed as he fell into the water in the darkness. He waved his arms desperately and, overcoming his panic, swam along the shore. Crossing the quarry in late autumn proved impossible. In addition, his clothes became heavy and pulled him to the bottom. Having swum far enough away from the nutty scientist, Cassie promised himself he would never set foot in the pizzeria again and climbed out onto the shore. He caught his breath, rolling onto his back. His body was shaking uncontrollably. The rain poured down mercilessly in powerful streams, and the cold wind chilled him to the bone.

“I have to go,” Cassidy said and opened his eyes. A scream stuck in his throat. Standing over the boy was the golden bear.

Cassidy didn't hear his own scream. Through the wall of rain, a golden muzzle would flash, and lightning would left a glint on the metal surface. Cassidy thought the torture and pain would never end, but then there was silence. And the pain subsided. Cassidy wanted to exhale, but couldn't. He saw neither a body nor bloodstains. Nothing that would remain of the body.

“What about the evening cartoons?” Cassidy said and didn't hear his own voice.

Chapter Text

The thin whistle of the wind resembled the howling of a ghost. A plate in the west wing of the basement had come loose, and the mischievous wind tore through and played a wistful solo on the old tin sheet. And when it rained, the solo was joined by the measured beat of drops. The dripping started in the corridor, moisture oozed from the ceiling and walls, gathered in droplets and ran off in rivulets, and inappropriate puddles appeared on the floor.

Mechanisms do not tolerate dampness well, and abandoned old animatronics rusted and fell into disrepair. And if the dampness caused a short circuit, and some mechanism went into cyclic motion, the corridors were filled with an eerie creaking screech, sometimes a choral cacophony.

A creepy basement isn't so bad, what's worse is that it's a dreary basement, a basement frozen in time, a basement where nothing happens. Where the appearance of a new spider is an event.

One can get used to loneliness, but when after an infinitely long period of loneliness there is company, it's painfully difficult to lose it. The pain of loneliness was brighter than hatred, brighter than resentment, brighter than rage.

Golden was walking down the old corridor of the west wing again. Back in the distant eighties there in his first rain, Golden had taken a spontaneous shower, just caught under a thin rivulet. The water wetted the bear's face, running into his ear. Golden bent his leg for the next step and froze, the inner springlocks going crazy, clicking rhythmically in an unbridled dance. And Cassidy, for one brief moment, had freedom. Choked with freedom, he remembered. Remembered the quarry, remembered Golden, when he and Golden had occupied different bodies. And he remembered the hateful yellowish face with the sparse teeth, and the elongated snake-like body with the hooked fingers. And then he was lost. Some monotonous thought erased the memories, but a subtle squeak kept him from dissolving into this alliance.

Alliance? With what? With who? The awakened part of Golden panicked, the other part tried to shut down this suddenly activated control program. The golden bear ran, twitching his limbs erratically and snapping his teeth. Until, after hitting a few corners, he tumbled into the cherished corridor of the west wing and collapsed to the floor, neatly under a rivulet of freshly melted snow. Golden sparked, twitching his joints and blinking his sensors. Then that something, that other part of Golden, went silent again.

“That's better,” Cassidy said, and Golden voiced it. At the will of the now single pilot, the bear sat up, a whole stream running down his head.  “So, that motherfucker killed me. What about the parents?! Do they know? Is that creep on the loose?”

The bear didn't sit still for long, he searched for a way out of the basement. One door was locked tight, but the other was open. However, every time Golden reached the second exit, the exit to the game area of the working pizzeria, “he” would turn on. Someone Cassidy wasn't ready to reconcile with. At least for the reason that it was something that killed him at the wave of that lanky man's hand. Unceremoniously interrupting all his plans. Cassidy had just made captain of the soccer team, beating that bully Pete. His father had promised a go-kart for his birthday. Cassidy would be the only boy in the class with his own go-kart, and for that, he had spent a year bent over books, keeping his headstrong nature in check. That thing had interrupted his hopes for new victories on the soccer field and in go-karting with one swing of a heavy metal paw with a whistling piston. And because of that thing, he missed the new Black Cauldron. And would never watch it.

The west wing has always been quiet, both back in the '80s and now, after who knows how many years.

“What are our plans?” came a whimsical voice that reached Golden's sensors through the ventilation. He lifted his muzzle to the airlock with the dusty blades of a non-functioning fan.

“Improvisation.” the lower one replied, with a slight sneer in his voice, and the echo reflected the voice repeatedly.

“Wait, young men, take your time.”

That voice seemed very familiar to Cassidy. Yes, he remembered it, that calm voice with the ever-apologetic intonation. His fight with that “something” for control of the machine had heated up seriously that day, and Golden had tumbled out into the lighted hall, bright and noisy. Golden wandered around the room, jerking with his arms hanging down along his body, his heavy head dangling limply from side to side. His sensors switched on and off, but brought up three animatronics on the screen. The three animatronics stood on the stage, and Cassidy thought of nothing better than to direct Golden toward them. Would he get lost among his kind, find protection and help from them? He himself realized that it was incredibly stupid, but he saw no other way out of the situation. And he fell asleep before reaching the stage, turned off. The sounds floated away, enveloping him in silence and darkness. That's when he heard that voice. And the voice of the lanky killer.

“I'm taking it home, Henry.”

“Why?”

“To improve it.”

“No, William. I've told you many times. Mimic isn't unfinished, Mimic is buggy from the start. Mimic is a glitch, a complete mistake.”

“I'll take it home–”

“No, William, I will it home and take it apart. We should probably throw this suit in the trash, too. It's stinky.”

When Golden's sensors activated, a hateful, elongated face leaned over him.

“Go, Henry, go. I still have the blueprints. What's up, little shit? Who's the freak now? You're in there, aren't you? Can you hear me? Great.”

The ventilation system gave Cassidy the location of living people as well as a search engine. They were in his domain, and Cassidy began the hunt.

Golden extinguished the sensors, watching the company of six men from the depths of the dark corridors. Six puny men who had doomed him to loneliness. Hatred flared in Cassidy's soul.  Hatred that made him give the command and the bear's metal fingers clenched into fists. Attack now. If he's lucky, he'll kill half of them. Grab that lanky guy first and crush his throat, pin the sturdy guy against the wall…

“How can we free Cassidy?”

“How? What do you know about him? What's keeping him here?”

“Who is he?”

“It's horrible, another kid that got victimized. I'll never forgive myself. He doomed his own children to death, and my daughter, and who knows how many more…”

“How many?” Cassidy left Golden and floated up. He made a few circles under the ceiling. Without Mimic, controlling Golden had become easy. Almost as easy as it was to control his own body of flesh and blood. What fun it had been when he'd shown up in William Afton's office! The translucent boy laughed, throwing back his head.

The caring daddy, who was also a brutal murderer, had brought his son to work. How he was frightened then, even stammered half a word! How his son squealed! Drooling and clutching his teddy bear. And all Golden did was walk into the office, dropping his head on his shoulder and dragging his leg behind him.

The lanky man picked up his son and dashed for the exit. And fell, recoiling when Golden beat him to it. He batted his eyes, unable to believe what was happening. Then he ran again, breathing heavily. Then Golden fell asleep. He always lacked energy. If not for that, he would have caught up with the lanky man. He would have paid him frequent visits, checking on the lanky man in his own house. He would have had fun upstairs. With those empty tin cans.

Cassidy didn't get to have fun. The lanky guy came back to the basement, and he wasn't alone. They beat Golden with iron crowbars, smashing everything until Golden couldn't turn on. They broke him and threw him into a damp, musty storage room. And so the endless minutes, hours and days began to pass… Cassidy flew around the storage room, cursing the lanky man and crying from helplessness. Tied to his broken suit, he was locked in this prison. Until one day, the door opened and a broken animatronic fox was dragged into the room. Cassidy had plenty of time, and Mangle, as he named his new neighbor and taught her that name, began to carry out his orders. Mangle became his scout, his eyes, his ears, his hands. Moving through the ventilation system, she brought news, tools, and materials for parts. With the mind of the boy who was far from technical and the animatronic's hands, which were unsuited for delicate work, they brought crippled Golden to such a state that he was able to stand up and take a few steps.

Cassidy dealt the next blow to Afton when the snow melted and the water stopped seeping from the corridor walls. Through the half-open basement door, Cassidy saw a new animatronic, small and funny. It delighted the children and their parents, and even the pizzeria staff showed interest in him.

“Balloon Boy, give me a balloon!” the children shouted over each other, and the animatronic rushed to each of them, holding out a balloon on a colored ribbon, saying “hello” in a funny voice and running to the next child.

And Cassidy silently called him. The little boy heard him. On the first night, he ran away. He was never seen upstairs again. The lanky man searched for him himself, ransacked the pizzeria, looked into the basement through the half-open door and sent in a search party. Some of them didn't return, thanks to the teamwork of Golden and Mangle. The basement was sealed shut. And Balloon Boy remained in the dark corridors. The little weasel brought Cassidy everything he needed, everything that the slinky dog Mangle couldn't get. And Golden was back in action.

Cassidy didn't understand how he did it, nor did he try to understand. The main thing was that it worked. Influence. He could break the empty tin can called an animatronic. He just imagined that he was in the tin can, and that was it. How much trouble he caused the repair crews back then! Freddy threw a microphone at the guests, Bonnie jumped off the stage and tore off the LED strip, causing a short circuit, and Chica dumped a pizza out of a box onto a visitor's head.

But one day Cassidy would have marked in red and celebrated if he could have kept track of time. The timing of his visit to Freddy was ideal. On that day, the pizzeria was very noisy, rumbling with music and laughter, and the ceiling shook with the sound of footsteps. Through Freddy's eyes, he saw the lanky man. And his son with reddened eyes. The party intensified his anger, and it reached its peak. He returned to Golden and stood in the west wing so he wouldn't hear the roar of music and laughter. But he did hear it, as if he were standing there on stage in the company of bright and beautiful animatronics. And he heard a scream. A scream that blew the sensors. A scream that rose through the octaves and reached ultrasonic levels. And he felt fear. Fear, animalistic primal fear, fear that got under his skin. Cassidy had encountered this fear once before. In the quarry during the thunderstorm. Cassidy understood what had happened. The sounds above didn't subside, but they changed. There was a commotion, wailing, and howling sirens.

Hey, lanky! How do you like it?

Cassidy imagined the lanky psycho wringing his hands, tearing at his sparse hair, his son lying in a pool of blood. Probably still clutching his teddy bear. And looking up with his reddened eyes. Having savored his revenge, Cassidy realized that it didn't taste the way he had imagined. And it didn't bring him any satisfaction at all. Those damn reddened eyes wouldn't leave him in peace.

Cassidy made Golden walk the corridors so his joints wouldn't rust, but today Golden walked much further and unexpectedly fell asleep. And Cassidy had to continue without him. Fortunately, during his imprisonment, he had learned to fly away from the suit to a more distant horizon.

There were no people upstairs, the tables were huddled in the far corner, and the hall gleamed with cleanliness. Cassidy saw him, bloody Freddy. Cassidy was crouching near the animatronic, examining the bloody marks on the metal surface.

Why didn't they clean the animatronic? The thought flashed through his mind, followed by a series of reflections on the fate of the animatronic bear, when suddenly Freddy stirred, stretched out his arms and screamed. Freddy moaned and growled. Cassidy then realized that he was not alone. The basement had a new prisoner.

The boy who cried all the time never made contact with Cassidy. Not once. Things got more lively when Fritz appeared. A strange ghost. A ghost himself, controlling Bonnie, but terrified of William. Cassidy had to intimidate him so that he would fear Golden even more. Then the nasty girl Gaby appeared. First, the lanky man killed her friend, and then her. Her friend didn't get stuck here, but Gaby did… Then, after gathering the “ghost council,” they realized that the damn psycho was conducting experiments. And the damn psycho knew about the prisoners of the animatronic traps. The psycho knew that the animatronics were out of their minds and ready to kill. And the psycho brought Fritz to Bonnie. Before that, he had brought another boy and killed him with his own hands at Bonnie's feet, and then watched the rabbit for a long time, making notes in his notebook with a saliva-moistened pencil. He cursed, cleaned everything up, and a few days later brought Fritz. Bonnie was asleep, and stupid Fritz waited, grimacing skeptically. The psycho fiddled with Bonnie's insides, and voila! Bonnie strangled the boy. The psycho studied Bonnie closely all night and for the next few days, making notes in his notebook with a scratchy pencil. And sent the uncontrollable machine to the basement. Then he brought the victim to Chica. The girl cried and rubbed her red eyes, and then quietly died. At Chica's hands. Nothing. Afton paced back and forth, studying Chica closely. He smoked, pack after pack, leaning his forehead against the glass. And he brought Gaby. Chica went crazy right after the girl died. And attacked the psycho. The psycho was satisfied.

The animatronics stood on stage during the day and were locked in the basement at night. Then a series of security guard deaths began. Golden didn't even give the order. Things got more fun.

An updated animatronic, Foxy the pirate fox, appeared upstairs. Before that, Pirate Cove was closed for repairs, and when the curtain was opened, the freshly painted dashing pirate, beloved by children, appeared. All day long, Pirate Cove was buzzing with noisy children. And Cassidy couldn't hack it, couldn't get into its electronic brains. He was even upset. But the new inhabitants of the basement distracted him. Two girls, two dolls, two daughters. The daughter of the psycho and the daughter of the psycho's friend. Cassidy didn't like either of them. But he hated Michael even more. Another son of that psycho. The teen was a psycho himself. Almost every night, Michael would sneak into the basement, wander the corridors with a flashlight, and always run away from the animatronics. Throwing sarcastic jokes at them before leaving. Cassidy received many offensive epithets. And this same Michael returned in the body of Foxy, the only animatronic not subject to Cassie's charms. Even the Marionette succumbed a couple of times.

How many arguments and skirmishes did they have with Michael! Cassidy never stopped throwing in his face that Michael was the son of a murderer. Until one day, in the heat of an argument, it became clear that both hated William Afton equally.

And on a rainy autumn day, the two irreconcilable rivals killed the murderer, locking him in the suit he had created. He died a long and painful death. And he burned, going straight to hell.

“So what the hell was that mini-commando talking about, that the psycho is alive?” Golden growled and covered his mouth with his hand. He was close to the group of people and didn't want to give himself away prematurely.

If Springtrap is here, then it's just him and me.

Golden listened to the wind howling behind his back. Today there was no drumbeat accompaniment from raindrops. Ah, so it was summer. A dry summer, causing local farmers a lot of trouble. Cassidy felt sad, remembering that only the dim-witted Balloon Boy remained from his former company. When Cassidy deals with Springtrap, the basement will become his eternal prison and executioner. If only he could burn this almshouse to the ground along with Springtrap and himself.

Voices came from afar. “Commando” claimed to have barricaded the monster in a small sector. And “Wizard” suggested finding Cassidy first. Golden rolled his eyes.

More time passed than Golden had expected. A loud cry echoed through the empty corridors.

“Springtraaaaap! Aaaaafton!”

“Come out!”

Idiots! Well, it's time to join in. Golden appeared behind the group of people. Almost no one noticed him. Almost. Only the wizard guy looked over his shoulder and shook his head slightly.

“Ooh. Quiet, kids. You'll wake the dead.” The floor vibrated with heavy footsteps. “How many of you are there? Five! My favorite number.”

“How about six, William?” Henry clenched his fists, slouching more than usual.

“Six? No, I like five better. Well, if you insist–”

“You…” Henry choked with indignation. “You killed Charlotte! Why did you do this to me? Although, what am I talking about? You killed so many children! Including your own.”

“What news, Henry!” Springtrap stepped into the light, his yellowish-green suit moldy and burned in several places, giving off a terrible stench. “Really? You've opened my eyes.”

“What a bitch you are.” Max spat on the floor.

“I do my best,” Springtrap replied calmly.

“If I could turn back time, I wouldn't have gotten involved with you…” Henry wiped his glasses and put them back on his nose.

“And nothing would have changed. You're mediocre. I'm a genius.”

“A genius?” Gregory snorted. “Are you talking about animatronics? There's nothing genius about that. There's nothing simpler. I could build that crap in an hour with a construction set and some batteries. You're a terrible mechanic and a lousy maniac. They wouldn't even make a movie about you.”

Springtrap growled.

“No, actually.” Gregory thought for a moment. “A movie about Golden would be more interesting. I'd watch that stuff. At least Golden is charismatic.”

Springtrap swung. Henry had no intention of backing down, and Max pulled him back. The metal hand left a dent in the wall. Dolph, armed in advance, threw a frying pan at the rabbit. “Das is rabbit. Fucking rabbit.”

“Gregory, turn it off!” Max shouted, lunging at Springtrap with a metal pipe. Gregory looked for a way to get behind the animatronic.

“Boys, it's just springs inside. It's empty,” Henry said, adjusting his cracked glasses.

“We're screwed,” whispered Preston.

“Absolutely.” Springtrap almost grabbed Max.

“Are you sure, freak?!” Golden's heavy footsteps made everyone turn around. Light slid across the golden surface, and red sensors flashed.

“Ah, it's you, blond brat? After my soul again? You should have understood that you can't kill something that's not alive. What are you going to do to me?”

A hook from the left sent Springtrap flying, and Gregory whistled. The corridor shook from the crash.

“I'll be your nightmare,” Golden growled, advancing.

“You're taking on a lot.” Springtrap sat up. ““I can't even burn. Rage all you want. You can't hurt me.”

“You killed Charlie, Michael, Liz, Evan. You're a monster!” Henry wailed.

“So what?” Springtrap stood up.

“Cassidy, please step away.” Cassidy couldn't believe his ears. Golden turned around. Harrison smiled to himself. “I haven't trained in a long time. It's time to start. Right, Max? You can't burn, William Afton? Are you sure?” Harrison walked slowly down the corridor. Golden turned, letting him pass. Max rushed after his friend. “Michael died because of you. Your son died young, never having tasted life.” The hair on Harrison's head flew up, and his fingers sparkled. “You cut short young lives, continuing your own worthless and useless life.” A bluish flame engulfed Springtrap. There was a crackling and hissing sound, followed by the smell of smoke and burnt plastic.

“Are you sure you sent him to the right place?” Gregory was the first to recover. “Not to the 60s? Not to the future? We won't meet him in five years, will we?”

Harrison shook his head. “To hell. Or to the center of a star.”

“My brain is broken.” Max ran his hand over his face. “Fuck, it's crazy what you're pulling off.”

“Right.” Dolph put his hands on his hips, and Preston slid down the wall.

Harrison hid a smile. “Cassidy, your abuser has been punished. There's no reason to stay. Cassidy? Listen, don't blame yourself. Your hatred isn't who you are.”

“What?” Preston glanced sideways. “What are you talking about?”

“He killed Nurf. Broke Freddy, who killed Evan.” Harrison sighed.

“Jeez.” Gregory scratched the back of his head.

“As I understand it, Evan's murder was a group effort.” Dolph put his hand on the wall. “His father made Freddy, Michael shoved his brother into the mouth, and Cassidy ordered it to kill.”

“Dolph,” Harrison interrupted him.

“Yeah.” Max was still staring at the spot where Springtrap had disappeared. “You're not helping, Dolph.”

“How can I help?” Dolph shrugged. “He killed the kid. He's just as much a murderer as Springtrap. Maybe even worse. I saw what he did to Nurf.”

“No, not at all.” Harrison gestured to Dolph to shut up. “Cassidy was stuck on emotion. And now he’s free. You didn’t kill him. Cassidy, it wasn’t you.”

“I did.” The cheeky boy appeared next to Harrison. “And I am fully aware of that. It was me. I killed the fat guy. And not only him. I’m not hiding it. Although I feel sorry for Evan. I really do.”

“I’m sure Evan doesn’t hold it against you.” Harrison’s gaze was sad.

“I'm sure too, and I don't care what others think. The main thing is that the freak melted out of existence.”

“That's for sure.” Harrison nodded.

“Guys.”  Preston stood up and pointed to the corridor. “What's that? Fire?”

“Damn it!” Max cursed. “Let's get out of here!”

“Damn magician. I knew it couldn't go smoothly.” Gregory spun in place, trying to get his bearings.

“Over there!” Dolph commanded.

“Harrison,” Max narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, let's go.” Harrison looked at the ghost. The fire licked the walls, getting closer. “Cassidy.”

“The fire is beautiful. I hope it burns down completely this time! Don't worry, warlock, I'm not staying. It's getting boring here.”

Through the ghostly figure, the flames licked the walls and ceiling, and Harrison watched Cassidy dissolve until Max pulled him away by force.

Dolph suddenly stopped. “Where's the old man?” He ran back into the corridor. Henry was sitting at the very edge of the fire. “What are you thinking, you old suicide?” Dolph dragged the indignant engineer away. “I've had enough of basement ghosts! Got it?” Henry gave up and nodded.

The charred Pizzaplex building looked out of place among the bright houses with neon lights. Firefighters were packing up, and trucks were driving away. The whole group sat on the hill near the Aftons' house.

“The cherry tree withered.” Henry pointed to the dry tree. “I asked what kind of tree it was. Magnolia, no? And he said it was a cherry tree. He was busy in the garden, too late to be planting trees. But I'm no gardener. I held the sapling while he covered it with soil, and we dreamed of how we would build a swing here in ten years. And Elizabeth and Charlie would swing on it. Now I had a strange thought: what if he buried his wife under the cherry tree?”

“That creep could have,” Dolph said laconically, stretching out on the grass, wet with dew. Dawn was breaking, the sky was turning gray, and a thin pink strip appeared on the horizon.

“How did you even get involved with such a freak?” Preston wrinkled his nose.

“He wasn't always a freak.” Henry sighed. “At least, I didn't see him as a freak. We were just two friends burning with ideas.” Henry pulled his legs up and put his hands on his knees. “Yes, young people, we became friends because of our research plans. Two inventors misunderstood by society. William was always impulsive, while I was level-headed and cautious. When we were short of money, he negotiated with companies. Basically, we automated production. William was always coming up with ideas, from a robotic home assistant to a fully automated café, even an animatronic dog that didn't need to be walked and could be turned off. He proudly presented Mimic, his brainchild. As he claimed, Mimic was self-learning. To be honest, I didn't notice that. Besides, Mimic was scary, creepy. No one was interested in Mimic, which wasn't surprising, and William sank into a deep depression.”

“And he started killing,” Gregory finished for him.

“No, I don't think so, not yet. I helped him. We finished Mimic together and presented it to an ambitious pizzeria that was ahead of its time. The board of directors didn't accept the work, but a compromise was reached thanks to William's charm and eloquence. Mimic was put on display for children to judge. We failed miserably.” Henry even hid his face in his hands. “The children cried and were frightened, and one little boy, a blond one, said that Mimic was, excuse me, dog shit, and that whoever came up with the idea should be thrown on the scrap heap. William hadn't slept for several days, and I suggested putting Mimic in a beautiful form that would be appealing to children. Hence, adorable Fredbear was created. Fluffy and bright, like a children's toy. The board of directors accepted him with enthusiasm. But they demanded that Fredbear be able to hug kids. Well, we made it, tested it, and children loved it. But not that blond boy. I don't know what the boy did with Fredbear, but it started smoking. We had to redo it again. Will freaked out and tore up the contract. It's understandable, his wife recently disappeared. Well, your humble servant offered to fix it. We made them hollow inside, with room for an operator. An operator could hug kids. And then, without an operator, the costume turned into an animatronic and entertained visitors from the stage. But visitors were not allowed to approach the animatronics under any circumstances. Said and done. William and I put on the costumes for the first time and went out to children, two serious men in the costumes of a bear and a rabbit. Something went wrong. I cut my arm on a spring lock. A minor incident, but still a flaw. The company was thrilled, but they didn't give us time to fix it and sent the costumes into the hall to the guests. Then accidents started happening with the operators. Not fatal ones, of course. The company didn't care, as long as the animatronics were in the hall. Dangerous or not dangerous, it didn't matter. If something happened, they went to the back room to bandage their wounds. I wasn't happy about it, to be honest. I mean, it's terrible when the operators are covered in blood every day. And then Fredbear came down from the stage on his own, hugged a boy and wouldn't let go. The animatronics have Mimics inside them, remember? And we've already made them self-learning.” Henry stared into the distance.

“And then?” Max watched the blazing dawn. “Why didn't you fix Fredbear?”

“Money, young man. It's all about damn money. We fought with the administration for a long time, but in the end, we took the costumes away. And provided a new trio. A regular bear, Freddy, a regular rabbit, Bonnie. And an animatronic girl, Chica. More sophisticated animatronics, not costumes. Operators were no longer needed. William took Mimic from the rabbit costume and hid it at his home. I suppose it was the reason for Evan's fears. As for the bear costume, we just left it in the basement. Preserved, so to speak.”

“Golden?” Max turned to him. Henry nodded. “Is he the adorable Fredbear? There was nothing adorable about him.”

“I designed all the animatronics myself, none of them were meant to be dangerous. I don't understand how this happened. They were supposed to bring joy.”

“Apparently, William decided otherwise.” Max stretched.

“He modified them without your knowledge.” Harrison looked up at Henry's tired, haggard face. “And, you know, your friend himself had a bug. From the beginning.”

“Dolph!” Max's eyes widened. “Fuck, I just noticed that. Why did you take it?” Max pointed to the tightly bound little animatronic.

“I'm sure this son of a bitch will come in handy,” Dolph kicked Balloon Boy with his foot. “Hello?”

“Hello,” the animatronic repeated.

“Dolph, that's fucking evidence!”

“It's fucking not.” Dolph frowned. “It's compensation for me.”

“How long are we going to sit here? Huh?” Gregory tugged at Max's T-shirt sleeve. “I'm bored.”

“So?” Max squinted at him. “Do I look like a clown?”

“A little, but you're kind of the leader here. So come on, Shaggy, take charge!”

“I agree with the young man, we need to disperse.” Henry groaned as he got up. “They'll probably call me to Pizzaplex.”

“And we can get rooms at a hotel–”

“Shut up, Preston.” Max thoughtfully broke a dry twig. “We should go back to our homes.”

“Cool.” Preston pouted his lips. “Where can Harrison go?”

“To my place. Why so worried?”

“They're not waiting for me at home.” Dolph pondered.

“Well, you can stay at my place for a while.” Preston rolled his shoulder. “Grandma won't mind.”

“Come on!” Max stood up. “We need to find a train station.”

A string of people descended the hill and, trying to stay on the side of the street opposite the pizzeria, made their way to the empty bus stop.

“Mr. Emily! Mr. Emily!” Henry stopped and turned around.

“Not her,” Dolph growled.

A young woman, whom Dolph immediately recognized as the security guard, was waving her arms and running toward them. She looked disheveled. Henry went to meet her.

“Mr. Emily, did they call you too?” She looked behind him. “Hi, Dolph. Guys?”

“They called me yesterday. Freddy malfunctioned.”

“Oh, Freddy and Roxy are safe. They got out on their own. But I can't find the others. The fire was terrible, it destroyed everything.”

“That's awful. Was it a short circuit?”

“We don't know.” Vanny shrugged. “It started in the basement. The wiring there is in terrible condition. According to the documents, everything was in order. But it turns out,” she lowered her voice, “Mr. Campbell forged the documents.”

“He always does that.” Max smirked. “Now he’ll take all the cash and flee. Or has he already fled?”

“He hasn’t.” Vanessa pointed to the police car. “He ran out when the fire started. Right into the hands of the police.”

“I see him!” Preston shouted, pointing to the entrance of Pizzaplex, where two police officers were leading the director out. “Mr. Campbell!” Preston shouted, waving at him. “Guys, wave to him!”

A skinny young man ran up to the police car.

“Not him.” Max wrinkled his nose.

“David!” Preston gasped and shouted. “David!”

The counselor turned around, his face lit up, and he broke into a smile. Behind him, Campbell resisted the police's attempts to put him in the car.

“You! David!” the director yelled at the top of his lungs. “You were supposed to keep those brats in the camp! And what did you do? They burned down my pizzeria! I'm ruined!”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Campbell,” David muttered and ran as fast as he could toward the teens. “Max!” He hugged the boy and ruffled his curly hair. “Alive!” David pressed his cheek against the boy's head. “Preston.” The man hugged the camper with tears in his eyes. “Harrison.” He squeezed his hand. “Dolph!” He patted the teen on the back. “The boy I don't know.” Gregory also found himself in the arms of the emotional counselor. “I thought you all…” He sniffed. “Like Nurf. Like Ered. Like Nerris. And like Nikki.”

“Yeah.” Max shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

“And like Neil and Space Kid,” Dolph added.

The counselor burst into tears, but after crying his heart out, he smiled again. “You're alive, that's a relief.”

“What will happen to the camp?” Max frowned.

“They'll probably close it.” David waved his hand dismissively. “Everyone's gone. Only the Quartermaster and the platypus is still there. Max, will you miss it? That's… That's so sweet. I'll miss you guys too.”

“Mr. Campbell is shouting something.” Harrison pointed to the police car. Campbell was banging on the window and shouting, but nothing could be heard.

“He wants to say goodbye.” David waved his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Campbell.””

“Bye.” Vanessa waved.

“For a cause like this…” Max waved cheerfully.

The director's face, contorted with anger, flashed in the window. The car sped away. On the sidewalk, four campers and the counselor, the pizza place security guard and the technician, as well as some strange boy, waved him goodbye.

Chapter Text

The fire crackled merrily in the open fireplace. It smelled of burning wood, and the café was warm and cozy. The frost-painted windows began to thaw, and through them, one could see the slope of the ski resort. With occasional skiers passing by. The door swung open, letting in a stream of frosty air, and the flames in the fireplace flickered. Preston shivered and pulled his sweater collar higher. “Dolph! It's not May!”

The door closed, a draft ran across the floor, and then it was warm and cozy again. Especially at the table by the fireplace.

“It's snowing,” Max announced and brushed off the snowflakes.

“Harrison! You fucking warlock.” Dolph slumped down in a chair and made frightened eyes. “I just hit a rabbit. It came right out of my fucking slope! I looked Springtrap right in the eye–”

“Dolph.” Preston shook his head. “You still haven't learned how to prank.”

“Fuck!” Dolph grew sad. “Why?!”

“You lack subtlety.” Preston warmed his palms against his cocoa cup.

“Whatever.” Sniffing resentfully, Dolph got out from behind the table. “Max, would you like some cocoa, too?”

Yeah.” Max looked out the window. Now the snow was falling in a solid wall. “And pancakes.” Max looked away from the window and joined the company.

“I didn't even spill it.” Dolph unloaded the plates of pancakes onto the table and set the cups down carefully. He squeezed himself in at the table and began to eat with gusto, moaning with pleasure.

“That's unexpected, Preston.” Harrison dipped the tube into his cocktail glass. “They're officially dating,” he explained to Max.

Preston nodded. “He introduced me to his family very nicely, and then told them to fuck off.”

“I just traumatized Dad, he deserved it.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Preston curled his lips in an ironic smirk. He shielded himself from Dolph. “He liked staying at my place. He came for a month, but he's been living there for three years now. Is that also to annoy your dad?”

Dolf nodded without looking up from his food. “He finally left me alone,” Dolph said, chewing. “Max is lucky, his parents don't bother him. My father wouldn't give me a free pass.”

“Oh, yeah,” Max agreed. “I don't think they realize yet that instead of one of me, they have three.”

“That's not true.” Harrison hid a smile.

“Guys, does anyone know what happened to Campbell?” Dolph wiped his hands on a napkin. Harrison shrugged.

“Who cares?” Max rocked back and forth in his chair.

“I think that was his last scam.” Harrison nodded.

“I feel sorry for our camp.” Preston reminisced. “And David.”

“Why feel sorry for David? David's doing great. Now he's the director of a new camp. The most progressive camp. With animatronic counselors.” Max rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding? Learn, Dolph! I can't tell if he's fucking with us or not.”

“It's true,” Harrison confirmed. “Gregory went there this summer. Well, he had a motive.”

“Not a motive, but a hidden and cunning goal,” Max corrected, “to steal Freddy. He's prowling around Freddy like a cat around sour cream.”

Dolph and Preston exchanged glances.

“Wait. Seriously? Animatronic counselors?” Dolph rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Yeah, Freddy and Roxy.” The glow of the fire played in Harrison's hair. “Kids love them.”

“Cool.” Preston rested his chin on his clasped fingers, daydreaming.

“Yep. That technician, Henry, is on staff. But the Quartermaster has become even angrier now. Because of Henry. They argue all the time. Don’t look at me like that.” Max grew serious. “David sends me voice messages. On his own initiative. It's not like I ask him anything. You know David.”

The café was quiet, with only a couple of tables occupied by vacationers. Harrison lowered his gaze and fell into thought. Max's warm hand rested on top of his.

“Is everything okay?” Max tilted his head.

“Absolutely,” Harrison smiled and fluttered his eyelashes. “Everything's great now.”

Max squeezed his hand gently. Outside the window, the snow continued to fall, and the fire crackled merrily, casting flickering reflections on the floor by the fireplace.

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