Y/n arrives at school. Y/n went to homeroom.

Springtrap: It feels strange to be in a school. I imagined ending up in different places. But never a school.

Y/n ignored him and waited for the bell to ring. The bell rung and it was time for first period.

Y/n went through the school day as normal. Completely ignoring the fact that Springtrap was there.

The school day ended and Y/n went for a walk around the city. He noticed some groups as he walked. They wore clothing that symbolized the gang or mafia they belonged to.

Springtrap: Aren't you worried about them?

Y/n: No. Their too busy gutting each other to care about anyone else. One pushes on the other, people die. It's daily life around here.

Springtrap: Hmm. Sounds like a blast.

Afterwards Y/n went home. He played games until it became time for bed. He went to sleep. He woke up the next morning. He realized he wasn't wearing what he wore when he went to bed.

Y/n: Springtrap. What did you do?

Springtrap: I had a little fun while you were sleeping.

Y/n: What do you mean fun?

Springtrap: I think the news might hold the answer you're looking for.

Y/n quickly turned on the news. The reporter was going on about a massacre of a local gang.

Y/n: WHAT THE FUCK?!

Springtrap: What? Nobody is going to miss them. Besides, no cop in a city like this is going to care about taking out that kind of problem. If anything we did them a big favor.

Y/n looked at his own hands.

Y/n: I killed someone.

Springtrap: After the first time you get used to the feeling.

Y/n: Easy for you to say.

Springtrap: That's the problem with people. When you have a problem with someone, people won't just get rid of the problem. Instead we have "morality". Can you imagine the amount of people they killed? You can only solve a killer by killing them.

Y/n: Says the guy who murdered five children.

Springtrap: Doesn't make what I say less true. It's who you kill that people care about. Not that you kill. If you kill someone like me, you would be hailed a hero. But if you killed someone who did nothing wrong you're a monster. It doesn't matter that you do it, it's who you do it to that matters.

Y/n: Whatever. Just don't do it again without my permission. It's MY body.

Springtrap: Alright-alright fine. I won't use you're body without permission. Unless it's to save you're ass. Then I'm taking the reigns.

Y/n: Guess I don't need a shower now. Seems you did that for me. Don't know how I slept through that.

Springtrap: Probably because you were technically unconscious.

Y/n got up. He looked at his phone. He got a text from his father saying that the school was closed due to the massacre. And how close it was to the school.

Y/n: I guess I should thank you for getting me a day off school.

Springtrap: Your welcome.

Y/n began to play video games since he had nothing else to do.

Springtrap was right about most cops not giving half a damn about the killings. Especially since they have dozens of other murders to solve of innocent people.

But one detective on the other hand. Didn't like the idea of letting a vigilante get away with a massacre.

Shiloh Ashford. A twenty eight year old detective. Known for solving hard cases. And this one would be her hardest case yet.

Shiloh looks over the case file and photos. Chief Williams walks over to her.

Williams: Working on that mass murder case?

Shiloh: Yes.

Williams: I should of figured you work on it. Right in you're comfort zone.

Shiloh: I suppose it is.

Williams: To be honest with you. I don't know why you bother.

Shiloh: Because more than a dozen people died.

Williams: This is a good thing though.

Shiloh: Chief!

Williams: Look, I don't like the idea of a vigilante running loose either. But, we are spread thiner than angel hair pasta. If they so happen to get rid of a gang or five, I don't care.

Shiloh: I do.

Williams: I know, that's why I'm letting you do it. But think about what you are taking off the table.

Chief Williams walked away. Shiloh began to talk to herself.

Shiloh: Nothing was left at the scene. Only the bodies. No DNA, no prints, not even a murder weapon. Whoever did this knew what he was doing.

Shiloh looked over the notes one last time.

Meanwhile Y/n went about life almost as normal, trying to cope with the blood on his hands. Sooner or later, he would have had blood on them anyway. Especially with a murderer sharing his body.