one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
two can be as bad as one
it's the loneliest number since the number one

Three Dog Night
One

Artist: Salix

Artist: Yeet_Flan

Hello hello!! If you haven't read Arson is My Middle Name yet, please do! This is a direct sequel :)

Im so hyped to show all of you what Blood in The Wires has in store. Continuing to write my versions of these characters is so interesting and fun. I really toyed with the lore here, so make sure you're paying attention! Foreshadowing is my best friend and your best clue <3

Enjoy reading!
Sam :)

TW: spiders, implied dead body

  The boy couldn't quite recall his first memories, but he knew that the dusty, old basement of a house long abandoned was not where his life had begun.

  He found himself lying down at first, spread pencil-straight with an unnatural stiffness to his position as he fluttered dust from his eyelashes. The workbench he woke on was steel, cold to the touch, knicked and scratched by work from years ago. The ceiling was the wood-plank underbelly of the house above.

  With a grit of his teeth and more effort than he anticipated, he picked himself up to sit. With a pat to his chest, particles erupted from the cloth of his shirt. He was wearing no shoes. He wiggled his toes and fingers in rebellion against their cramps before taking in his surroundings with calm surveillance.

His curiosity caught on the cobwebs blanketing the corners, on the cracks in the stone walls. He stared at rows of workbenches and mechanical amalgamations that sat upon them. Rusty tools dotted the place, as though it had been abruptly deserted before whoever worked there had a chance to clean up.

  Stiff fingers picked up a screwdriver from beside his knee and brushed a thumb against the mahogany handle. A name was etched in the plastic of it, but it was too worn to make out. The shoddy grooves rubbed against his skin.

  A small pattering sound to the left made him turn his head. He found a brown mouse, scuttling along the edge of the wall.

He dropped the screwdriver and looked around with a frown. The sleepy meekness of just waking up had quickly disappeared. Where was he? What was this place? It was completely abandoned, so he couldn't have been awaiting someone. Surely he didn't live there?

  The boy stilled. Who was he? Why couldn't he remember anything?
 
  He released an exhale of confusion as he visually explored this house of forgotten dust and spiders. There was something digging at this... light inside of him - he didn't know how else to explain it other than light, but something was tugging and pulling at it with insistent nature. He closed his eyes and was greeted to blurry, broken memories.

  ... nothing. Washes of gold, maybe. Streaks of red. Then white. Lots and lots of white. None of it made any sense. He closed his eyes harder. Surely one of them could tell him something. Anything.

  "You're not allowed to rest, yet."

  Startled, his eyes snapped open at a girl's seething voice that interrupted his search for memories. There was a rage to her, something that felt insatiated and unstable. He felt a shiver crawl down his spine at the thunderous force behind her words. Or maybe that was another spider.

  He turned around on the bench he was still sat on. Only dust motes greeted him.

  "Who- who's there?" his unsure voice called. It bounced back from the stone walls surrounding him and it encircled him, too, caught in a vortex of walls and words. "Hello?"

  He was entirely alone. The mouse stopped its scuttling and reared on its haunches to stare. One of the spiders in the corner paused its weaving. Nothing with him could've made that angry voice that resonated through his skull, and yet it still happened. The boy's confusion ran deeper.

  He slipped from the workbench he woke up upon and landed on the concrete floor with bare feet. A wave of dust careened with him, exploding into the air and disturbing the rest of the motes that hovered. He coughed into his arm and winced at the dryness of his throat.

  Water. He needed water. He needed water now.

  He turned about the small place, finding his joints to feel stiff. He pushed onwards, agitating the dust as he searched for a door until the air was blanketed by it. When he did finally find a handle covered in more dust, it was stuck.

  "Ugh, you've gotta be kidding me!" he complained. He tried the handle again but it stubbornly remained in place.

  The boy turned away and kicked some cardboard boxes, upsetting the tools within them. He yelped at the pain that blossomed from his toes and stumbled back into a sheet hanging from the ceiling, tangling within the moth-bitten cotton. With a rip of fabric and a gasp, he collided heavily with the ground.

  He shook his head in an effort to regain his bearings and looked up, only to scream horrifically and burst into tears at the sight of a mechanical skeleton looming over him. He scrambled backwards, dragging a line in the dust, kicking up more motes until the air was foggy.

  His erratic breathing only evened out when he realised that the skeleton was immobile. He slumped against the wall he'd cowered against and tried to soothe his racing, frightened heart with a heavy exhale.

  Upon calming and wiping away his tears, the boy looked around the room again, prying for an escape. He became resigned to the fact that the stuck door was the only point of entry to this place, with not even a window to consider wiggling his way through. He dropped his head back and groaned.

  The spider watched the boy lift himself to his feet with a resigned sigh. The mouse continued its scurry across the dusty ground.

  He tried at the handle again but it remained immovable. It seemed that however he arrived there, somebody didn't want him leaving... or anybody else entering. The lock was solid, even after however long it had been.

  He eyed the door and its rusty hinges with consideration. Then, with a deep sigh, reeled back and rammed his shoulder near the handle.

  He gave a shout of surprise when the wood splintered easily under his power, sending him sprawling into the hallway beyond and bumping into the next wall with a crunch of paint and plaster. Dust erupted around him yet again as he landed back on the carpet with a pained grunt.

  He blinked his rattled eyes open and found a faded, beige ceiling looking back at him. The hall stretched out on either side with an occasional doorway leading to unseen rooms. The air was even thicker with motes and was difficult to breathe. A hole in the wall sat where his hand went through it.

  With a shake of his head, the boy stood. Nothing moving in the house told him that it had been long abandoned. With a swipe of his brown hair, he rid the last of the white plaster and began his adventure of the house he'd mysteriously awoken in.

  Clearly, the residents hadn't lived there in years. A thick layer of dust coated everything and things had been unmoved, sitting in their spots like they had been glued there. The photos on the walls were so caked over that the faces behind the glass were unseeable.

  He found the kitchen, then, and rushed for the sink. The faucet gave a sickly-sounding gurgle before spewing grungy, brown-ish water from its nozzle. The scratchy thirst of the boy's throat made him plunge his mouth into the stream without a second thought.

  He choked on the taste of watery dirt before pulling away with a disgusted sob. It wasn't satisfying, but necessary. The discomfort of being parched was sacrificed in favour of tasting mud on his tongue.

  He shoved the handle to stop with a grumpy forcefulness to his movements. He carried on, swinging open the cupboards in search of something to eat. Quenching the furious hunger was his next priority. The rat feces coating the shelves barely dissuaded him.

  After locating a few crackers that had long gone stale, he snacked on them while exploring the creaky, old house. The couches were moth-bitten and holey, having been adopted into homes for various creatures. The stairs threatened to shatter beneath his weight. The bedrooms held stories that he couldn't read from beneath the coats of dust.

  When his arms were loaded with a few spoils - shoes, a backpack with a broken strap, and a jersey, the boy made his way out of the shadowy house. His bag held a few more packets of crackers and cans of preserved food. It wasn't as if anybody else would be needing them.

  Upon reaching the street's footpath, he turned to observe the house. The garden was an overgrown, uncared mess, and the house was near to falling apart. The windows loomed with darkness sealed. He shivered. He decided right there and then that he would not return to such an... unnerving place.

  The sun was high and the air was chilly. A road laid before him, dotted with presentable houses that were kept in a much better condition than the discarded hellhole he'd crawled from. Trees spread down the sidewalks, yellowing in the impending autumn. He tightened his jersey a little more around himself.

  The streets weren't empty, but that didn't mean he was bothered by anyone. As ratty as his appearance was - tangled brown hair in a sore need of a wash, tattered blue jersey and sneakers with soles that were almost worn through, rattled amber eyes - he was ignored. Part of him relaxed at that; no pesky adults to ask him questions he didn't know the answer to. The other part envied the occasional kid he saw, clutching at a parent's hand. Where was his guardian?

  He furrowed his brow as he walked. Did he even have a guardian? The fuzzy memories revealed nothing to him, nothing more than blurry colours and a vague sense of unease. The angry girl's voice hadn't made a return, either, so he couldn't ask her for clarification.

  He continued to wander the streets of this small town with his chin buried to his chest. He felt vulnerable without answers. He didn't know where he was walking to. He didn't have anywhere to go.

  A child's peal of laughter made him look up. A colourful playground sat in the centre of a park, crowded by children of all ages and circled by parents. There was an air of lightness to the place, a careless nonchalance of the brightly-coloured castle that he hadn't felt before. Maybe. Perhaps he did, once, in the life buried in his blurry memories.

  He let his legs carry himself towards it. The happy squeals of play called to him. He wanted to be happy, too. He reached the edge of the pool of bark and stared, lost. Where to start?

  "The swings are the best, if you can get them before anybody else."

  He turned at a kid's voice. Another young boy, no more older than he was, watched him with a confident smile. He looked like he'd seen plenty of playgrounds before.

  "Okay," he said. His eyes found the swings, occupied already by a pair of girls. It did look fun.

  "I'm Kerin. What's your name?" the new boy asked.

  He felt himself freeze. Name. What was his name? He wracked his brain for the answer but nothing was there. It must've been locked away with the rest of his shapeless memories, just out of reach, a whisper of what his life used to be.

  Kerin was beginning to frown at him. He was taking too long to answer what would otherwise be a very simple question. His grip on the one good bag strap tightened.

  "It's..." His eyes caught sight of a company truck pass by the playground. Gregory's Grocers. His gaze slid back to Kerin. "It's Gregory."

  Kerin broke into a smile, unbothered by the hesitation now that he had a name to put to Gregory's face. He felt himself relax a little - a name was a good thing. Everybody had a name. A name meant he belonged somewhere, even if it was one he stole from a truck.

  Kerin nodded to the just-abandoned swing set. "If we run, we'll snag 'em."

  Gregory nodded and gave chase, snatching the chain to the rubber seat before another could take it from him.

  He swung there for the rest of the afternoon. After Kerin had left at the beck of his mother, Gregory continued to swing. When the sun went down and the moon brightened in its stead, when the playground was deserted, when everybody who had a home returned to it, he still swung. The playground was his, now, the swings for himself only. He didn't like it now that there was nobody else to enjoy it with him.

  Gregory stared at his worn shoes with a frown as they dug through the bark. He'd watched each kid leave the playground and felt a foreign sense of jealousy when their parent arrived with fussy hands and a kiss to the forehead. He'd never missed something so much that he wasn't even sure he had in the first place.

The moon was bright on that first night of his. He padded the spare clothes he stole in one of the playground's tunnels and nestled there, claiming home until dawn. When he slept, his dreams were only more of the blurry memories that had relentlessly teased him since he opened his eyes.

  Kerin would come back occasionally. He told Gregory that he'd visit the playground on the days he didn't have piano or swimming. Gregory asked about his lessons, but Kerin was more interested in pushing himself down the slides or dashing across the flying fox to answer.

  It made Gregory frustrated. He wanted to know about the things Kerin did that he couldn't, but his new friend didn't seem to enjoy them. Couldn't Kerin see how good he had it? Piano and swimming might be boring to him, but it was better than living in a playground. Even the swings had lost their appeal.

  Jealousy was beginning to turn Gregory's visage bitter. He was in want of many things - a place to call home, namely - but they were all out of his reach. Every other kid who ventured to the playground had everything he wanted. Why was he the only one without? That wasn't fair.

  "I've never seen your mom," Kerin said one day. It was almost winter, and the wind had a chill to it that forced Gregory to double layer his two jerseys. It didn't stop the shivering. "Do you have one?"

  "I have an older brother," Gregory replied instinctively. He paused, staring at the stick he was pushing through the bark with confusion. Did he have an older brother? He couldn't remember, but the words slipped from him as though he did.

  "I have a younger sister. She's annoying."

  A sister. Gregory had one of those, too, he was sure of it. But names and faces eluded him, so he couldn't even take himself at his word. That lost feeling returned with vengeance.

  As Gregory contemplated his two siblings that he wasn't even sure were real or just tricks of a lonely mind, Kerin gave his goodbyes.

  That was the last time he saw him.

  Gregory figured it out a few days on, when his friend didn't stop by on his usual afternoon. It didn't have him worried, though a little annoyed. He'd waited for Kerin for hours, all the way until dark.

  Then the parents started talking. Their eyes grew sharper, trailing their own children as they played, as if they would be taken in a blink. The usual crowd had thinned drastically, almost halved in patrons. The bustle of the playground had quietened to a mere murmur.

  "I bet it's that Freddy's place again," one mother scoffed while Gregory hung close, ears pricked for whatever news they carried.

  He liked to be kept in the loop - after the playground lost its charm, the gossiping of parents was the only thing keeping him sane. Nobody cared about a scruffy little boy. They always assumed he just played rough and would get a shower when he went home, so he could hang around without raising any questions. 

  "They were just rumours, Mollie. You've gotta let it go." Another parent shook her head. "The kid wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's."

  But more and more kids began to disappear. The speak of Freddy's stuck in Gregory's head, through each bitterly cold, winter night, through each heavy rainfall. He watched snow stick to the ground from his tunnel and dreamed of warmth.

  That was when he saw it.

  A bunny suit, prowling the playground.

  Gregory felt himself stiffen with fear. That was unnatural, as far as he was concerned. That hadn't happened before during his countless, sleepless nights. He would know. He knew the playground like the back of his hand.

  It looked like it was hunting, a bipedal predator, movements slow and calculated. He wasn't sure what the bunny-like creature was sniffing out, but he sure as hell hoped he wasn't on the menu. The abnormally large, red eyes of it seemed to pierce him straight through and freeze him solid. It hadn't even looked at him yet.

  He'd rather abandon his makeshift home than be caught by whatever that thing was. Gregory carefully, quietly packed his things and moved with the shadows, sneaking his way from the tunnel.

  He paused when his worn sneaker squeaked against the thick plastic, breath caught behind his teeth. Did it hear him? A rustle said that it did, a fast pattering of feet alerted him of its direction towards him.

  He turned to the other side of the tunnel. He couldn't tell which end it would appear at, and the apprehension had his heart beating between his ears. He'd never felt fear like this, at least he thought so, body so taut with adrenaline that it began to ache and twitch. He was a cornered mouse.

  The rustling of bark close to his left propelled him forward, bursting from his tunnel like a racehorse from a starting gate. The cans in his bag knocked against his spine painfully, but he didn't dare slow to adjust it. He could hear the creature pursuing him through the night-washed streets. Faltering meant capture.

  After what felt like an eternity, he lost the creature in the suburban streets. He leant against a wall to catch his breath and stared at the starless sky. What he would give for a warm meal and a comfy bed. Someone to tuck him in would be nice, too.

  He slid down the wall and cradled his knees to his chest. He was tired of being alone and being cold. He was tired of stealing food. Was he abandoned? Why did he have to be abandoned?

  He had so many questions, and yet was still so, so alone. He felt the absence of anybody so ferociously that tears pricked at his eyes. He was scared and tired and the last thing he wanted to do was to spend another night alone in the winter coldness.

  But he didn't have a place where he belonged. So he sat there, in the alleyway he hid in, and watched as the sun rose while tears dribbled down his cheeks.

•••••

  He'd made another friend while living out of the same alleyway.

  It wasn't another child, this time. It was a cat. A tabby one with a ginger coat and an expression that looked as though he'd tasted something sour. Gregory had called him 'Stick' because when the feline first ventured into his box, a stick was tangled in the thick fur of his tail.

  Stick made for good company. He was a terrible listener and didn't reply to any of Gregory's questions, but he was fluffy and warm and made for a great source of heat when the nights got cold. Sometimes he'd leave for a couple of days, but he'd always return to the quiet little boy in the box in the alleyway.

  "What do you think, Stick?" Gregory asked after peeling open a can's lid. The sweet smell of peaches invaded his nose and made his mouth water. He much preferred the preserved fruits over the other canned stuff he'd knicked. "Tasty?"

  Stick blinked slowly. Gregory stuck a finger into the syrup and held it out for the cat to sniff.

  "Yeah." Gregory nodded, as though the cat had replied. "It's super good."

  Gregory gobbled down his breakfast of peach slices and left one for Stick, who licked at it a few times before walking off. Gregory drunk the rest of the syrup before tossing the can to the bin that sat halfway down the alleyway. It knocked against the rim and clattered onto the concrete.

  "Ugh," Gregory groaned. It was too cold to leave his box, the chill already settling beneath his skin, and leaving what little protection he had just to pick up a can required more effort than his tired body held. 

  A small head poked its way back through the box's flap. Gregory smiled tiredly at the feline.

  "No adventuring today, Stick," he said. "It's too cold."

  Stick blinked big, yellow eyes at him, but Gregory was just as stubborn. He remained where he was, curled up in a ratty old blanket he'd grabbed from someone's garbage. Stick seemed to realise this and pushed the rest of the way inside before settling on Gregory's lap. He sighed at the welcomed warmth of the kitty.

  "Thank you," he murmured. He scratched Stick behind the ears and listened to him purr. "You're my best friend."

  It remained like this for a while, during the harshest of the winter. He didn't enjoy the bitter chill of snow and neither did Stick. Gregory only left his box to steal food and newspapers for warmth.

  It was one of these newspapers that caught Gregory's attention. There was an article about that Freddy's place the parents would frequently talk about, something to do with a seventh anniversary event. Gregory didn't care about Freddy's or the event, but he did care about one thing;

  Kerin was missing. The Freddy's place seemed to be the only lead Gregory could think of.

  Gregory looked down at Stick.

  "Do you want to go on an adventure?"

  Stick's usual sour expression only blinked in response

•••••

  Gregory hitched his bag tighter around his shoulder as he stared at the massive mall. A gargantuan neon bear - of whom he could only assume was Freddy - smiled down at him, beckoned him inside.

  And, damn, while the sign might be a little unnerving and Gregory might be feeling oddly sick, the idea of being inside here instead of his box for the rest of the winter sold him instantly. He pushed the cautious niggle at the back of his head down - this place had fast food and heating. It may as well have been paradise.

  His first obstacle was getting past the ticket gates, but he was so small and nifty after months of sneaking food that it was a non-issue. He stuck close to a party's crowd and slipped in before the gates could lock him back out. He peeled away immediately, not wanting to draw attention. Attention was the last thing he wanted.

  At least the staff bots were so stupid that they didn't care whether you were on the registry or not, as long as you didn't invade the space they were cleaning. Gregory didn't know that, however, so he still kept his distance.

  Kerin, Kerin. Where could he be? Gregory stared around the lobby and felt his shoulders sink. Even if this place wasn't so damn massive, there were so many people that looking for his friend amongst the crowd almost felt impossible. And what if he was elsewhere? What if he wasn't even in the mall at all?

  Either way, Gregory was here to stay as long as what was feasible. The look of the atrium's food court was enough to tempt him. So many kitchens, so many food vendors, so many options. He was spoilt for choice, really. This was leagues better than his alleyway box. The only thing missing was Stick.

  Gregory deflated at that. He wished he could smuggle Stick in, too, but he knew cats and people were different. Stick liked it outside, Gregory didn't. Besides, sneaking in was risky enough; sneaking in a cat would've been impossible.

  He watched one of the shows. It was alright, if he had to be honest. The music was a tad too loud and the smell of smoke a bit too rich, but nobody else seemed to notice that. The cheering of the crowd rung in his ears with a shrill roar.

  When it grew later, the crowd was beginning to thin. If Gregory wanted a chance at slipping away somewhere he was probably not allowed to go, he'd have to make his move now while there was still a crowd to block his misdoings.

  Through the clamouring of an eager crowd, Gregory weaved past bodies undetected. He was as lithe as a fox and cunning as one, too, and it wasn't long until he found himself in the darkness of the utility tunnels.

  The shadows loomed before him, tricking his eyes and creating shapes. The cans in his bag clunk together with each step, echoing down the empty halls. He observed his space with eager curiosity, spearheading his way through the pristine paths and high-tech security offices before ducking through doorways with doors that hung off their rusty hinges and climbing over small piles of rubble.

  Gregory slowed as he considered this; the more he walked, the more decrepit and malnourished the place became. The halls he were traversing through now were littered with abandoned storage rooms, broken staff bots, spare endoskeletons. And it was dark, too, so dark that he almost couldn't see. He should've stolen a flashlight.

  An entrnace greeted him, a place where a little light came from inside. He ventured through and found a room awash with colour - every wall and surface coated with sticky notes. He bent down to examine them and pulled a face at the indecipherable scratches.

  "You're not meant to be down here."

  Gregory startled at the girl's voice. He spun with a gasp, crunching paper beneath his worn shoes, eyes crawling over the darkness. He realised soon that this wasn't the same girl's voice that greeted him with anger when he woke; this voice was gentle and soft, like a dandelion's pappus drifting in the wind, and sad. So inordinately sad.

  "Who's there?" Gregory called. He turned again and was greeted by the visage of a young girl. He stumbled back with a cry of surprise, almost slipping on the unstable surface of the sticky notes. He instinctively held his arms up to defend his face.

  She was watching him with a look akin to shock, or so he assumed. It was hard to tell when her face kept disappearing and reappearing, like flickers of sunlight over rippling water. Her head tilted and her faded, blonde hair tumbled with it.

  "You should be gone," she whispered in echoey disbelief.

  His brows knitted at her odd turn of phrasing. More questions rose within him. "What? Who are you?"

  The ghost's face crumpled. "Do you not remember?"

  His breath stopped. Was she a part of his blurry memories? Did she have a hand in his past? He shook his head as a million different thoughts and questions hurled themselves at him in an attack of confusion and dizziness.

  "I- I don't remember anything," he confessed in a breathless whimper. "I woke up in a dusty house with no memories. Do you know me?"

  The girl looked away. Her face was scrunched with despondency, tainted and wrought with agony. He took a step towards her, expression turned with desperation.

  "Please," Gregory breathed, "please, if you know anything, tell me."

  She stood there, contemplating. Her eyes didn't stray to him, as though laying her sight upon him pained her. Her fists played with her misty skirt with agitation as he waited for her answer.

  Her sad eyes dropped to the floor.

  "It might be better this way," she said faintly. "Life was not kind to us."

  "I want to know," Gregory said firmly.

  "You will regret it once you do." She was resolute. "Please. If you have the option to start over, take it. Nothing will be as bad as what you endured back then."

  Gregory shivered at the implications of what the girl was saying.

  "Your memories may return on their own," she continued slowly, mournfully. She said it as though she wished for anything else. "It will be better that way than if I told you and overwhelmed you. It might mess with your soul. They are finicky things, you know."

  Gregory's frustration was palpable, crackling in the air between them. He'd gone months with wondering who he was, trying to push for his memories to reveal themselves, and when somebody finally had the answers he was looking for, she refused to tell him.

  He dropped to the sticky note floor with an unhappy frown. The girl followed, taking a precarious seat and dragging her fingers across the coloured squares of paper.

  "I'm sorry. But I must fulfil the role I'm here to play. To do anything else could jeopardise you."

  "What role is that?" Gregory grunted.

  "A guide," she murmured. "To help the souls release themselves of this place and to move on before they get stuck. I wouldn't want them to suffer the same fate as..." the ghost glanced at the side of Gregory's face. Her gaze dropped. "As me."

  "You're stuck here?" Gregory asked with renewed interest. The girl nodded, drifting her fingertips over scratched words. "Did you write all these?"

  "I did." Her fingertips stopped. "It started out as an attempt to warn the children who got lost down here, but... it was always too late. Now I write them to remember who I truly am. Sometimes I'd get mixed up with who else I used to be."

  At least she can remember, Gregory thought bitterly.

  But then more of her words settled in. The kids. Kerin must've been one of them. Gregory dropped his chin to his knees with a forlorn frown; by the way the girl was talking, it seemed that he was already too late.

  The girl was watching him. She chewed on her lip as a look of conflict passed over her.

  "There might be something I can show you that can jog your memories."

  Gregory's head shot up. "Really?"

  She nodded, a little hesitant. But she nodded all the same. Gregory swiftly leapt to his feet. She followed, slower.

  "Follow me," she said quietly, and began passing over the floor of sticky notes. "We must be quick. He is dormant right now, but he will wake again soon."

  "Who?"

  "The one who takes the children," the ghost answered. "You will have to leave these tunnels soon. You can find sanctuary above."

  "Oh." Gregory suppressed a tremor at the memory of being chased by a person in a rabbit suit. He wondered if that was the person this ghost was referring to. He glanced up at the transparent girl. "What's your name?"

  She stopped so abruptly that he almost went barrelling right through her. She turned, and her face was doing that twisted expression of sadness and conflict that it was when he first arrived down here. She was bunching her skirt in her fists again.

"... it's Elizabeth," she replied. Her voice was still warm, genial, but there was a hint of solemness that had Gregory's chest twisting. 

  "I'm Gregory," he said, and she hesitated again, stared at him for a good solid beat. Then, she slowly nodded and turned back around to continue walking.

  She crawled up a pile of rubble and waited for Gregory to join her. Upon reaching the landing, a table stood before him. A table with five robots sat around it.

  Elizabeth watched him as he circled the table, drawn to the scene of a family dining with curiosity and confusion. She was trying to tell him something, he knew that much, but the facts weren't sticking. He looked up at her helplessly.

  "It's a family," she said. "So I don't get lonely." Then she looked at him again, as though waiting for a pin to drop. A pin Gregory didn't seem to have.

  "Why does this one not have a head?" Gregory asked. All the others were so specifically decorated, though the little girl one with red pigtails was crumpled in a way that looked painful, and the other boy bot had its inside mechanisms ripped out.

  Elizabeth looked at the alternate siblings with a look of deep melancholy. "There was an accident."

  "To all three of them?"

  Her lashes lowered. "... yes."

  Gregory looked at the dining scene again with a frown. What kind of accident caused all of this damage? He was suddenly unsure whether Elizabeth was referring to an accident to the robots or if it was staged from... something else.

  He suddenly had the urge to cry. He sniffled loudly and shook his head to distract himself from the sensation.

  "That's unfortunate," he mumbled. His skin felt as though it were crawling, looking at the three mangled robots. He turned his eyes away before the displacing sensations grew too wicked for him to handle.

   A sound of something far off in the distance - a footstep, maybe, or rubble shifting - made the both of them look towards the source. Elizabeth bristled suddenly, gloominess suddenly replaced by an expression a little more serious.

  "It's time for you to go."

  "What?" Gregory's head snapped back to Elizabeth. "But I have more questions!"

  "No," she said resolutely. "He's waking and she's returning. It's dangerous for you here."

  "But-!"

  "You have to go back up." Her firm voice cut the head of his complaint. "It's time this all ends but the two of us can't do it alone, and they need to know just how dire this situation is."

  He shook his head helplessly. It was though she were speaking in tongues; he couldn't understand a word she was saying.

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "You will. Eventually." Elizabeth fixed him with a determined stare and placed a hand on his shoulder. He could even almost feel the weight of her small palm. "Help us all fix the father's sins."

  Gregory took a step back with another lost shake of his head. The sudden stern turn of Elizabeth had thrown him through a loop and he was struggling to keep up. She advanced still, pushing him towards the exit with a steeled resolve that barely masked the fear in her murky eyes. 

  "Go, Gregory," Elizabeth pled. "Before it's too late and you get stuck down here, too."

  Another sound in the far-off distance had him turning tail and sprinting back the way he came.

•••••

  Gregory lost count how many days he spent living in the unused Pirate's Cove play area. It was meant to be under construction, but during his time sneaking in and out of the boarded-off place, he hadn't seen any workers.

  He'd gotten pretty good at memorising the path towards the atrium and avoiding the routes of the security staff bots that patrolled the place. It was easy to sneak past them, child's play even. And once he'd reached his utopia - the food court - all he had to do was use the tunnels to get from one kitchen to another.

  He was careful with what he took. Gregory knew enough about stealing that to create a near-permanent residence, he'd have to take sparingly. The last thing he wanted was to raise alarm of a thief. So he stole cautiously - a water bottle here, an orange there, a bag chips or a slice of pizza.

  He grew a small haul in his hidey in the Pirates Cove playground. It was comfortable, even, padded by stolen blankets from the merchandise stalls and decorated with small plush toys that he couldn't stop himself from grabbing. They were a source of comfort that Stick could no longer provide for him.

  During the days, he'd grown risky; exploring the place while it was in full swing. He liked Roxy Raceway, because nobody cared if an out-of-place kid joined a race. He even spoke to the wolf, once. She was pretty cool.

  At night, when he was in need of nothing and his legs were tired, he'd stare at the ceiling of his hidey and ruminate on what Elizabeth told him. He ran her words over in his head, trying to figure out what she meant. He was at a loss.

  He'd go down to visit her again, but the look in her milky eyes when she told him to leave kept him from venturing back. He didn't know her, and he didn't know what she was talking about, but that ghostly look of fear was very real. So he settled where he was and buckled down for the long haul.

  Gregory could've been living there for weeks. Months, even. He wasn't one to keep track of passing days - it wasn't as if he had anywhere to be. Gregory found a sanctuary, hiding inside the complex, and everyone working there were so daft and caught up in their own troubles that nobody noticed a little boy living there. It was perfect.

  Until it wasn't.

  It was a regular night and he was on his regular route to grab some nacho chips from the Mexican restaurant, when he spotted that bunny-suited person again.

  He froze in his tracks. Did it follow him? Surely not, it couldn't. It'd been so long since he last saw it. He shuffled behind a pillar and watched them drag a small body behind it.

  Gregory wanted to cry. Just when he'd found a home, just when he felt like he loosely belonged somewhere, something was keeping him isolated. Was this the person that was taking kids from the streets? It looked to be. This must've been the thing that Elizabeth wanted to keep him safe from.

  A loud screech behind Gregory made him startle. He was so caught up in watching the person stalk across the atrium's floor that he forgot about the security bot whose route intercepted his hiding spot.

  Gregory felt his heart leap up his throat as the bot shone its light into his eyes. His gaze jumped to creature and whimpered when he found its red eyes drift towards him. The leg it was holding dropped to the floor with a sick thud. He watched, frozen, and only when it took a step towards him did he bolt.

  This was worse, perhaps, than the first time the bunny suit chased after him. The Pizzaplex had become an oasis of free food and shelter, but in its solid walls was a trap. Gregory could hide all he wanted, but until the mall opened, he was imprisoned.

  Terror clung to each short breath he took. He could hear it pursuing him, shoving aside security bots with snarled curses in a low woman's voice. He could hear each pounding footstep, death written on the soles.

  Gregory had the upper hand in being more nimble, but she was faster and stronger. She was gaining on him, hissed breath growing louder. He pushed on with all his might, but he couldn't outrun it this time.

  His arm was caught with a sharp yank and an audible pop of his shoulder, making him cry out in pain. He was hauled back by the momentum and stumbled to keep his footing. The grip on his wrist was strong enough to break bone.

  "Let go!" Gregory clawed at the padded hand of the woman's suit around himself. He kicked at her legs, hanging off from her iron grip. She stared at him soundlessly, red eyes boring into him, as she held him there with inhuman strength. "Let me go!"

  Only with a well-aimed kick to her stomach did Gregory manage to wrestle his way free. He took that opportunity to flee while she was winded and regaining her bearings, disappearing into the shadowy utility tunnels. It was like a maze in there. If he kept moving, she wouldn't be able to catch him, and then when the mall opened he could escape.

  It's time this all ends but the two of us can't do it alone, and they need to know just how dire this situation is... help us fix the father's sins.

  Elizabeth's words made him take pause in the hidden corner of a hallway. He hung his head. Gregory still didn't know what the hell she was talking about, but he wasn't dumb enough to miss the implication - she clearly needed him for something. If only she bothered to tell him why, dammit.

  And who were 'they'? Some names would've been nice, at the very least. Any piece of information would've been grand, but no, he was given nothing yet laden with the expectation to stay?

  Gregory wanted to groan in disbelief but was too on edge to create any sort of sound, so he settled on rolling his eyes. He should've stayed in the alleyway with Stick. It was cold and food was scarce, but at least he knew how each day would pan out.

  And Stick didn't speak in riddles. Stick didn't speak at all.

  The next day, when the mall was opened, Gregory explored it again. He walked though the Mazercise, he watched rounds of Fazerblast and Monty Golf. He overheard workers talking about glitches and malfunctions. He tried to decipher what Elizabeth clearly wanted him to.

  Green eyes landed on him from over the crowd. One of the security guards had spotted him.

  Gregory frowned as she continued to stare with a glassy gaze. The guards didn't know about him, he'd know if they did. Besides, wasn't this the blonde guard that usually stuck to the night shifts? What was she doing here during the day?

  Then he saw her gaze zero in. She started towards him.

  "Oh, crap," Gregory murmured. He turned and slunk through the crowd, hoping to vanish into the waves of heads and children and lose his tail. Why was she after him? Did they finally catch onto him and he just wasn't aware of it? Or was this something else entirely?

  God, why couldn't things ever be easy?

  Gregory watched as the guard turned around in her spot, eyes frantically scanning the crowd for him. He slipped away into the tunnels and left her there, searching for a boy that had disappeared.

  He didn't know how long he could keep playing this game of cat and mouse. It was exhausting, being on high alert for so long. Gregory stumbled through the tunnels with an annoyed frown - this wouldn't be an issue if somebody told him anything useful.

  A door slammed behind him and he leapt halfway out of his skin. Gregory ducked into the shadows and watched with wide eyes as the offlined Freddy Fazbear robot was carted past. Humans followed, too, each holding an expression of apprehension and worry.

  He watched them disappear into a room with interest. There were windows to watch from, so he carefully perched on one of the many boxes of things littering the place and stared as the robot was put inside a massive see-through cylinder. Freddy was poked around in for a fair amount of time and stressed people were rushing about the place. It looked like a scene from a drama show.

  Gregory shrunk back against the corner as the door opened and people filed out of the room. They didn't notice him there, tucked up against the shadow.

  "This virus is driving me nuts," one of the men said. "It came out of nowhere. Freddy's never had a virus before." 

  "Not much we can do about it now," said a woman. "Chill, Jenkins. Freddy's AI will combat the rest."

  "If it's strong enough," Jenkins muttered. Then they turned the corner and left ear shot.

  Gregory stayed curled in his corner for a few beats after their voices completely disappeared. Only when he was doubly-sure that the coast was clear did he peek over the window again.

  Freddy was left in that weird chamber, totally alone and spread out like he was prepped for surgery. Gregory wasn't too invested in the robots (he really was only here for the shelter and food), but even he felt odd watching the bear. Not once in the... months(?) he'd been at the Pizzaplex did Gregory ever see Freddy like this; absolutely still. Undeniably robotic.

  He stepped into the room with a cautious glance, shoes padding a little too loud on the linoleum flooring for comfort. He didn't know what was driving him to approach the offlined robot, but he couldn't help it. He was compelled, absolutely and thoroughly spellbound. His own body was beyond his control.

  The door slid open for him, letting him step inside the echoey chamber. Gregory had always known that Freddy was a sizeable beast of an animatronic, but standing next to him like this really did just put into perspective how tall he was.

  Gregory wondered if Freddy ever wanted a mom. Maybe Freddy was like him; missing memories he didn't have. Missing people he didn't know.

  There was just something so familiar about him. Something kindred, something just like Gregory. He didn't know what it was, but the feeling of it was unmistakable. He even almost felt safe, trapped in this little see-through room with a massive robot.

  Gregory shook his head. Was he just weird, or was it this place that was being cuckoo?

  He didn't get much time to contemplate on that, as voices returning tore Gregory back to reality. He went for the door only to find it stuck shut.

  "You're kidding me!" Gregory groaned. He turned back to assess the chamber and whimpered at finding absolutely zero hiding spaces. He was trapped. He was trapped, and they were probably going to give him to that blonde security guard with the haunted look in her eyes. Who knows what she'd do to him. She could be just as bad as that bunny creature!

  The voices were growing. His time was running out. Just as Gregory's breathing was beginning to shorten in panic, his gaze drifted to Freddy's stomach hatch. All of a sudden, an idea popped into his head.

  He'd seen cakes bigger than himself fit in there. It couldn't hurt... right? Right?

  He didn't have time for a second option. He clambered up onto the seat beside Freddy and pried open the hatch with force and a crack of metal. He awkwardly slipped inside, shoes catching on pipes and mechanisms before settling into an uncomfortable position.

  Well. Shit. This was an extraordinarily terrible idea. Something sharp and metal was digging into his shoulder. Wires kept tangling in his fingers, and god, the small place smelt so overwhelmingly of cake. The potent sugary sweetness was almost too much for Gregory to handle.

  "Let's get him back up," one of the voices said. Then, with a shudder of what was now Gregory's entire world, the robot body began to move.

•••••

  | S A F E M O D E |

CALCULATING...

INTEGRITY
|•|•|•|•|  |

01001100 01101101 01100001 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00011001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101100 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101110 00111111 00100000 01101000 01100001 01101000 01100001 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110010 01100100 00100000

BATTERY
|•|•| | | |

01010100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00011001 01110011 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01000010 01101111 01101110 01101110 01101001 01100101 00101100 00100000 01001101 01101111 01101110 01110100 01111001 00100000 00100110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100100 01100001 01111001 01100011 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01110100 01110100 01100101 01101110 01100100 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01110011 01110000 01101001 01101110 00101101 01101111 01100110 01100110 01110011 00100001 00100000

INITIALISING SETUP...

SYSTEMS READY

  Colour flooded in as Michael's vision booted up, finding himself sat in the chair before the vanity of his room. He looked around, confused briefly, as to why he was suddenly waking up there.

  The last thing he could recall was performing. Then... nothing. And now here.

  "How... odd," he murmured to himself. His battery was stagnating around twenty percent, and his automatic system reports were coming back corrupted. "What is the time...? Ten. It is ten?" He swore it was only five in the afternoon just a few seconds ago. "Did Y/n leave already-?"

  "Shh! Will you shut up?!"

  Michael's thoughts came to a grinding halt. Was that a... voice? A young boy's voice? He slipped from his chair and turned about the room, but there was nobody there.

  A system came back with a warning alert. He pushed it aside to continue his search.

  "Who said that?" he asked the otherwise empty room.

  "I did," came the squeaky voice again. "I'm down here."

  Michael looked down towards the floor but found no one there. His puzzlement grew. What on earth was going on?

  "Down where? I still do not see you."

  "Okay, listen," the voice sighed, "you were sleeping so I opened the stomach hatch and climbed inside."

    "My... stomach hatch?" Freddy echoed. Michael felt himself fill with fear as a million and one safety protocols began to flicker before him. The kid was inside of his chest cavity? He crawled inside of him? Of his own volition?

  What was this, reverse-Alien? Did the child not understand how unsafe it was in there for him? Why would he go in there in the first place?

  He closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about Liz.

  "That place is reserved for oversized birthday cakes and piñatas," he informed as his chest clicked open. He could feel him now, the weight of the child sat on the cake platform. "It is not a safe play area."

  "I- I know, but- hey!"

  Gregory yelped as Freddy's hands gently pulled the gangle of small limbs and a snappy mouth from the cavity. He set the child on the floor and held his shoulder until the small, brown-haired boy was steady.

  "There you are," he sighed. "That was very dangerous." His brows began to furrow at the state of Gregory, his ratty sweatshirt and his worn shoes and the feral edge to his downturned lips. "It is past closing time. Where are your parents?"

  Gregory looked away.

  Freddy tilted one brow at the kid's uncooperativeness and scanned him, anyway. His frown deepened at the lack of information it procured.

  "Scan complete," his automatic announcement slipped from his maw. Gregory's head whipped back around to Freddy with a tighter scowl. "How odd. Your guest profile is unknown to me. Who are you? What is your name?"

  Gregory's scowl softened a little; but only to be touched by sadness. Michael held himself back from asking what the matter was; he had a feeling the kid wouldn't appreciate it coming from him.

  "I- I'm... Gregory." He cleared his throat, as if to hide the hesitation. He turned to explore the room, picking up a plush toy and squeezing it in a hug. He wished he had Stick, instead.

  "Gregory." Freddy drew out the name as though testing it. "Hm. I am Freddy."

  "Wow, really?" Gregory deadpanned as he turned his amber gaze back to the bear. "I had no idea! It's not as if this entire place is named after you."

  Michael couldn't help but grin at his attitude. Gregory reminded him of himself at that age; bitter and sarcastic, angry at a world that was unfair. Not many kids like that came around here.

  Gregory looked away from Freddy's gentle smile with a huff.

  "I will notify the main office that you are here," Michael said. Gregory whipped back around with a worried look but didn't get a chance to blurt out his disagreement. "Huh. Connection error. I cannot connect to the main network."

  Gregory sighed in equal parts relief and exasperation. And then he stiffened. Freddy was cut off? Who would want to cut Freddy from the system, unless-

  The woman in the bunny suit. The one who was taking the children. The one who knows that he's here - and must know that he's still here.

  "It's her! She cut you off." Gregory grabbed Freddy's hand with a desperate plea. "She's not gonna let you call for help until she finds me!"

  Freddy pulled a startled look.

  "Who? Who is looking for you? Your mother?"

  "No-!"

  They both stopped when a loud beep from the door pierced the tension. Gregory stilled. Michael turned his head to the door.

  "It's her!" Gregory hissed before leaping at Freddy's stomach hatch. He stumbled back a few steps under the unexpected force, eyes popping wide in surprise as the boy's little fingers pried the lip open and began pulling him inside his impromptu hiding spot.

  Gregory froze when the door slid open, half of his body still dangling with nothing to lift himself up with. A person stood in the door with a pile of parts that almost went to their chin.

  "Y/n-" Michael began awkwardly.
 
  Her head snapped up at his voice. Gregory stared at her warily; it wasn't the guard, and he didn't think it was the woman that wore the suit, but he was still terrified. He felt Freddy's body slump a little.

  "Oh, thank god." Her words came out in a slew of syllables. "You're awake. I went to grab some new parts for-"

  The parts in her arms suddenly crashed to the floor, making Gregory flinch. Her eyes bored into him with so much confusion it was making him dizzy.

  "Manager Y/n!" Michael said in his signature upbeat Freddy voice. Her eyes slid to him. His hands picked up Gregory like a cat before carefully lowering him to the floor. "This is Gregory."

  She looked back down at Gregory. He was half-hiding behind Freddy's leg and his grip on Freddy's hand seemed glued there. He wasn't even aware that he was holding Freddy's hand.

  "Freddy," she began under her breath, "why is there a kid in your room?"