"Really?" Virgil came towards him, equally in relief and disbelief, "You can?"

The intellectual kid perked up, narrowing his eyes at the handwriting. "Who wrote that? Where did you find it? Are you sure this isn't a red herring? A trap? Incorrect information?"

Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but another robot fired out his own thoughts instead.

"We can finally be at peace?" Patton said, "As in, we'll move on? For realsies?"

At those reassuring queries, Talyn sprang up and down for joy, then attacked the night guard in a hug. "Thank you! Thankyouthankyou..." They slowed down, switching to a melancholy tone. "You...I'll never forget you."

     A metal hand rested on his shoulder, and Roman's ghoulish voice from behind whispered, "How are we gonna make William pay for what he's done?"

"Woah woah guys—one at a time!" Thomas fought the shivers tingling at the back of his skull. "And personal space, please?"

     Roman shuffled back, and Talyn sat down away from him.

     The guard waited for everyone's attention as he mentally prepared his speech. He tapped the writing at the far top, angling the notebook so that it aligned with his field of view. 

"Right here it says that your heart and protective case surrounding the brain are made of copper. Your nervous systems, too." He flipped the page. "As long as all of that is intact, you live. But if we damage it enough, your essence can move on."

"Wait," Patton lifted a finger in the air, throwing in a doubt. "What about that tiny black box? Isn't that what's keeping us conscience?"

"That too! There's a page on it, let me find it...Yes, it keeps all of you partially alive—"

"Pardon?"

"It—what?" He turned to Logan. "What do you mean 'pardon'?"

"Oh, just the fact that William never shut up about the bizarre tool maintaining us 100% alive, not partially."

"That's the thing!" Thomas pointed at the animatronic. "He made you believe that. But it's not true. Right here, it says that your core systems and core chips must both be destroyed in order for you guys to be freed."

The kids exchanged bewildered looks.

"So where the hell are our core chips?" Roman piped up.

"Inside us, I guess." The marionette ventured. "In our brains? Makes sense."

     Another mascot in glasses nodded.

Virgil turned to them, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow. "And what does that have to do with a stupid toy?"

"Well, the notebook doesn't specify where they are, but the box—which is actually a Rubik cube—does have a connection with them. It's possible to destroy the chips with it, and I believe I know how."

     If Virgil could grimace, he would've done it. The purple animatronic slid a hand down his face, unenthusiastic.

"Brilliant. Please let us know of your fool-proof plan and let's watch it crumble into despair because literally everything we've done got knocked to the ground." The tattered robot paused. "What? Go on. It can't be that stupid, right?"

Unconfident twinges sparked up the human's mind. He reviewed the expressions of the rest of the mascots, expecting the same harsh cynicalness, only to be met with curious and attentive eyes. Thomas allowed himself to relax. This was just an idea, after all.

He started to fill the awkward silence.

"Well...I started off with thinking that it'd be better to get rid of everything tied to you guys, than just you alone."

     The guard's eyes darted to each metal face.

"So we could, like...y'know.....burn the pizzeria to ashes—since everything shady is here—then grab the cube, and throw it in the bonfire. It's a, um, two birds with one stone kind of deal."

     Five pair of eyes widened.

The pitter patter of sewage water echoed in the room as they absorbed what he just said. When the kids remained frozen for a few seconds too long, he legitimately thought a mechanical lockdown had affected them.

"Aaaaand you're stupid."

     Logan broke out of statue-mode and pointed at the notebook.

"Where did you get that?"

"In a box. It belongs to William."

As soon as the last syllable passed his mouth, every mascot grew alert. The puppet and a couple of other animatronics remained in their shell-shocked positions, with slightly wider stares. Two mascots shook their heads, uncomfortable and suspicious of the new information. Of those two, one narrowed his eyes at the object in Thomas' hand.

"How do you know it's his?" Logan said slowly.

"Who else could've wrote it? Like, c'mon, it has your names, blueprints, detailed steps of relocating brains—"

     The latter held up a hand, signaling for him to pause.

"Wonderful. All things considered, this isn't a cause for celebration. He does not lose something as important as this so easily."

"Doesn't matter," Thomas shrugged it off, "I have it now."

     Logan rubbed the temples of his forehead, like it had any physical calming effect. "This is too ridiculous to comprehend. Have you wrapped your head around the consequences of having that in your possession? Do you even have a clue what of kind of danger you'll be in if he sees you with it?"

     Roman stepped face to face with the authoritative robot.

"Pshh, Thomas is right," he challenged. "I don't give a damn if Mr. Serial Killer sees his diary missing. We have the upper hand."

"Exactly!" The guard appreciated Roman's mentality. "All I gotta do is turn this in to the police and boom! Jail time."

"And have the world know how to achieve immortality? If you truly plan to get rid of this establishment, you will be the prime suspect."

The guard opened his mouth to disagree, but Logan's argument sank in before he could think of a comeback. Yeah, he had a point.

Virgil lowered his head, seeming to consider the other's cautionary words. "I take my insult back. William oughta burn with us."

That little edgy statement earned him concerned glances.

Patton, who had been listening to their increasingly chaotic conversation, decided to step in."I appreciate the enthusiasm, but there's gotta be another way!"

"Okay, but why the entire pizzeria?"

     Logan wasn't slowing down with questions and honestly, it began to give Thomas a headache.

"Why not deactivate security measures, take us out in the middle of nowhere, and be done with it? Surely, your job position gives you higher access to complete tasks like those."

The human sighed. Right, he forgot to mention a tiny detail. The flutter of pages started up again, slowing to a stop near the middle of the book.

"Apparently, P2 means phase 2. You guys were phase 1, immortality in mechanical bodies. Phase 2 is living forever in human bodies, but with a robot heart. There's hidden rooms inside the walls upstairs where kids from the next phase are gonna be kept for who knows how long!"

     Thomas slapped the book close. His grip around its spine tightened.

"If we don't do anything, what good are we?"

Again, all five remained quiet, thinking to themselves. He expected the group to explode in conversation, to squabble over one another. He imagined the arguments they would make, and internally prepared counter arguments. It was a surprise when Talyn spoke up.

"You're really going after the whole 'avenging' thing, aren't you?"

     The puppet swiveled their head to look at their friends. A silent language passed between the party members: simple miniature nods.

     Talyn directed their attention back to the night guard.

"Count us in."

9:32 am

     Cleaning the animatronics took a shorter amount of time than he thought. On each stage, they remained still, colors dulled by darkness. The puppet rested inside the music box located at his office, and its tune grew fainter as the guard dragged his feet to the exit.

     A lot happened in the past hour.

     The 'mind-control' chips, as Virgil referred them to, were collected by the man and promptly destroyed with a hammer. After the wrecking session, he disposed the shards into separate trash cans for extra precaution. No way whatsoever was anyone gonna salvage and reuse them. Not if they're in a billion pieces.

     And during the careful blood-washing, a vague feeling of uneasiness circled him. He couldn't pinpoint it then, and certainly not now. The leftover anxiety nagged more when he locked the restaurant's front doors. William's notebook never escaped his hold, being held by a tense hand as the man stalked through the parking lot.

     Was it the sight of his own blood on people he'd gotten to know that caused the uncontrollable discomfort? Or queasy silence that spiraled him into a mess of emotions difficult to decipher? The more he pondered, the more difficult it became to comprehend his vague dread. It was almost as if he was forgetting something.

     Thomas hopped inside his car and took to the street, chasing after green lights to home sweet home. Desire for food and well-deserved sleep drifted his mind off of the matter.

—————————-

9:40 am

     A different car pulled into the empty parking lot of Fun Family's Pizzeria. The vehicle lurched into a sloppy halt, taking up two spaces diagonally. Its owner didn't close the driver's door, his worries hyper-focused on what tragedy existed inside the restaurant.

     William jammed a key into the main lock, thrusted the door open, and zipped inside.

     An innocent man died because of Dexter's poisonous lies. Accidental or meaningless deaths never sat well with Mr. Afton.

     He would've come earlier, but getting rid of a body isn't speedy work.

Upon entering the lightless dinning room, his vision swiveled to its left wall, where the shadows of 3 stages claimed his attention. Two of his creations had the brains to not move from their spots. The third, of course, kept somewhere safe and out of sight. For a quick reminder, William slipped out his Rubik cube from a jacket pocket.

"No messing around," He growled, the invention clutched by stiff fingers for them to see.

Two pairs of shining eyes made a quick glance at him and the device. No other sign of life displayed after that. Good, pesky kids liked to test their limits. Not anymore, though.

     Satisfied, and returning to frantic, the man dashed from one random corner to another. He checked under tables, behind arcade stands, kitchen drawers, under the security office's table—hell, even the basement. No scanning of the rooms beforehand displayed the gruesome crime scene he envisioned. Not even a drop of crimson liquid showed off on the animatronics.

     So where was the security guard? Mr. Sanders certainly took a beating, and he definitely saw blood through Roman's eyes...

His perplexed frown curled right-side up.

At Nightmare's Cove, he gently pulled back stage curtains. Enough to see Virgil's blank face staring off into nothing. His test subject sat crisscrossed, perfectly immobile, but the little boy fooled no one.

"You were the fist to lose contact last night. Mind filling me in?"

     Silence.

"Perhaps you forgot how to speak? I can see you begging for motivation."

     A remote he collected from rummaging around the security office proudly swayed in the air, suspended by William's calloused hand. In fact, all the controlling devices were like prizes exchanged after the deactivation of a clueless puppet. "I added an upgrade to these. Would you like to find out what it is?"

     The question didn't faze Virgil.

"Don't say you didn't ask for it." The man flicked up a slider and pressed a few buttons. Sharp, static noise blasted the man's eardrums.

     Blue lightning unfurled over the mechanical body. Violent jolts shuddered up its back: thrusting the metal head in random directions, limbs spastic. His eye swirled like a lotto slot, rolling up behind the eye-socket only to resurface in a purple blur. The other white dot of an eye remained still during his freak out.

     The controlled shock died down, leaving Virgil to crash face first on stage.

"A lot stronger than the previous ones, eh? As always, no permanent damage." William smiled. "Is Mr. Sanders alive?"

     The animatronic continued to play rag doll. Ridiculous.

"I'm sorry about bringing the wrong man into our world." He attempted to speak in a calmer voice, but the kid's stubborn refusal to cooperate only amplified his impatience. "Remember my friend? He led me to believe Sanders was after me. Stole my things and blamed it on our guard. I didn't see his checkout stamp, so what happened to him?"

     The quietness omitting from his subject continued to annoy him. Time for another tactic.

"If I have to repeat myself again, everyone but you will have their taste of my new and improved shocks."

     Virgil's head creaked up. In the procession of a steady, monotonous whir, he finally glared at the man.

—————-

"I bet you don't need a reminder on these, either." The one who he wished never existed pointed to another jumble of buttons. "It's a different version from the last set, but all the same function. No lying."

If Virgil had sharp teeth, he would've snapped William's nose off. Too bad his metal smile could never shift to clearer express his real emotions. And boo-hoo to literally everything he had ever tried to kill the guy. The trapped child gave up fighting back a long time ago, it wasn't worth the pain that followed. 

"I'll be generous and give you to the count of ten."

Curses zipped through the animatronic's mind. Thomas needed to stay safe, no matter the cost. He'd taken farther steps than the last security guard to free them. Despite his occasional idiotcricy, he had potential... and was an ok person.

"One."

He silently apologized in advance to his friends.

"Two."

Besides, they were immortal. Abnormal pain was nothing new.

"Ten. I counted the rest in my head."

Four remotes spread out on the floor by William's feet. The animatronic couldn't see them, since the edge of his stage hid them from sight. A wicked hand went through each one and worked evil magic on them. Faint electric spurts shot off in the distance. Virgil winced at each one.

The man looked back at him,

"So? Oh—hold on, one more thing before you tell me."

     If looks could kill, a certain kid would've been responsible for murder right then and there.

"Another upgrade. See the yellow triangles at the bottom?" William stopped, then chuckled. "You remember colors, right? The correct combination will send you into a deep sleep—nothing that'll interrupt my research. Think of it as a coma."

     Yay for unconsciousness.

"It sets a program for you to become artificial intelligence. Wonderful, isn't it?"

     Virgil squinted at him, weighing the pros and cons of taking on the sleeping beauty burden.

"But you don't care if terrible things happen to you." The apathy oozed from his voice. William feasted his gaze on remotes, holding up a finger and dwindling it high in the air over them.

"Eenie-meenie-miney-mo." The man swooped up a rectangular object, thumb over label. "Take a guess, gamble your luck! Who'll be mentally absent forever?"

Toxic wrath stimulated faceplates to twitch. Hisses of angered gears ticked against each other, which translated into metal fingers scratching the wooden stage-floor. The mascot propped himself up on one arm, maintaining eye level with the diabolical man.

"You're bluffing." Virgil seethed.

"And you're talking. Keep it up."

     Low growling rumbled from the animatronic. Fine, he'll do it his own way.

"His heart never not stopped and didn't continue. The blood went away by human hands that left no evidence. Long gone isn't his nature, but neither not is staying."

Beep. Beep.

"Stop talking in riddles."

"That's all I'm giving you."

"Really?" Beep. "I'd rather check the footage and get out of your face, but we're in a financial crisis and can't afford to keep the cameras recording anymore. Blame Dexter."

William's pinky finger daintily touched the fourth button.

To say his anxiety skyrocketed was an understatement. Mechanical stirs from trembling grew loud enough to overstimulate his mind, drowning rationality. He wished he had the human form to hyperventilate, pass out, and deal with this later.

     But it could never happen, and an unfortunate soul needed to pay the price.

     Virgil lifted his head higher, and squeezed out every bit of fury into nine words. A distortion in his voice gladly resurfaced.

"We kinda killed him. Lucky for us, Talyn healed."

———————-

    William's eyebrows flew to his hairline.

"The puppet brought him back from the dead?" He didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

     The animatronic stayed silent. He took it as a sign of confirmation.

"The puppet brought him...back from the dead."

     Absurd. Impossible!

     Years ago he noted this child's perplexing, but moderate ability. After living in a new body, an area of her brain unlocked a dominant region of self-healing. So powerful, it healed other living creatures with a touch. He theorized one of the implanted chips in her brain caused a rewiring in her system. He only witnessed her mend a rat's broken leg, but when he suffered a nasty gash on his arm and went to the puppet for a quick recovery, it didn't work. So he concluded her gift couldn't preform on grander levels.

     And there he stood, coming to the dreaded realization that back then...her ability wasn't fully developed, or she simply choose who to help.

     Mr. Afton's hand squeezed the remote. His fingernail dug against the final button.

"Back from the dead...from the de—"

     The device hurled into perfect tiles. Like a bomb, it blossomed into varying shards of electronic bits at collision.

"You know what?!" His throat burned. "That would've been useful earlier!"

     The corner of his eyes prickled, it's sensation only increased when he stomped on the fragmented object. Logical thinking was far gone.

"If the puppet—!" The room blurred. William's teeth dug into the inside of his cheek until a metallic taste sprouted. "If I knew how to—pift—make it, then none of you would be here!"

Blinded by rage, his fist found itself ramming deep into a wall. The impact welcomed webs of cracks and one small, jagged hole. The man cursed under his breath. Hollow aching persisted as William hastily covered the damage with a poster. He snatched up four remotes, apathetic for whoever now lived as a walking machine.

     He caught the child's stare: a perfect blend of shock and... amusement? Without thinking it over, he stared back, whether it was a standoff in his mind or some sick competition to see who looked away first.

     Virgil shifted uncomfortably, readjusting to a sitting position. The boy glanced at him up and down.

"Well, aren't we both