[ Flipside - A DSaF Fanfic ]

[ Chapter 2 | Salvaging and Slog ]

   [ How do I start this chapter- Um...hmm....Oh I know, I'll start it with words! Perfect! But wait, what kind of words- ]

    "CAN YOU JUST GET TO THE STORY, NARRATOR?! JESUS!!" Jack yelled at the disembodied voice, annoyed. He slapped the voice, somehow. I'm not really sure. There's a severe lack of logic here...

    [ OW! So rude...okay okay, jeez, I'll start. D:< ]

    [ that man is a jackass...Oh, sorry, I forgot we had people reading this...um...I'll start the Chapter now, sowwy 👉👈 ]

    Jack got out of his car, walking towards an old pizzeria. The first stop of his trip. It had taken about two hours to get there. The building looked charred, and the plastic sign looked like candle wax that had melted and frozen again. The words on the sign were distorted, but he could still make them out. 

     "Fazbender's Pepperonieri..." Jack muttered as he read the sign.  He stumbled to the door and opened it. The door fell off its hinges and slammed it the floor. The glass shattered into several shards, scattering across the floor. He flinched, startled.  He grabbed his flashlight and turned it on. He looked around, the floor seemed to have burnt papers and tablecloths littering the floor. The walls, like the sign, seemed melted and were scorched. Jack stumbled backwards, hearing a skitter. He jolted around, looking for the source of the sound. The light of the flashlight fell on a mouse, eating what seemed to be moldy crust. He grabbed the mouse and tossed it across the room. 

    But he heard another skitter and looked to his side. It was a balloon boy, who was missing an eye and leg, its face contorted and spotted with ash. He sighed.

    "I think having a balloon boy would be a negative to my business...both liability wise and entertainment wise." He walked past it, wanting to salvage something actually somewhat useful. 

    He wondered around for what felt like hours but was probably just twenty minutes. At the end of it, he dragged a broken Freddy that was missing an arm back to his car, wires of many colors where that arm once was. He began to drive to the next place.

    Another pizzeria. This time, it wasn't burnt down like the first one, no. It was flooded...with cheese. The outside walls were tinted orange. The sign had fallen off and was embedded into the sidewalk. It was also dyed orange, much more than the outside walls. It was surrounded by a pool of moldy, liquid cheese. 

    "The actual fuck...?" Jack muttered, seeing the building in cheesy decay. He walked around the sign, and into the building. As he walked onto the carpet flooring, he could feel the moldy cheese stick to his shoes, and the smell in there was putrid. Jack squirmed. He decided that if anything in there was worth salvaging, it was probably also covered in cheese, and he didn't have the energy to clean cheese off of a murderous animatronic that probably wanted him dead. He dashed out of that building really quick.

    He got back into his car, wiping off cheese from his shoes. He had one last pizzeria, and then he was done.

    Actually...maybe I'll skip the next one tonight. He thought. I have work in the morning and have much more important things to do. Yeah, I'll go to the third one...tomorrow.

    He hummed as he drove, recognizing the driveway. He was finally home. Well, it wasn't really his house. It was Peter's, his brother. He missed Peter quite a bit. And Caroline, Peter's wife. Sure, Peter and he weren't always on the best terms, but he was the last person in his life he could call a friend. Sure, there was Dave...but... Jack shook his head, removing the thought. Before he realized, he was at the door. He used his key, which was stored in his pocket, to open the door. The familiar smell of home wafted through the house. He was home...finally. But, as per usual, his work wasn't finished.

    He stumbled upstairs, sleepiness seeming to make him have to drag himself instead of just normal walking. He first walked past Peter's and Caroline's room. He lingered there for a moment, longingly. But he continued. He then walked past his own room. Despite being tired, he knew he must get to work instead of sleeping. It was incredibly important. He finally walked past the last door in the line-up of rooms. He opened the door, and staggered in. 

    The room had an arcade machine he had found in an old Fred Bears, the one he once worked at. It had taken months to fix it up enough as the instructions were torn apart. It was like the writer didn't want anyone to find his invention. Jack knew it wasn't a normal arcade machine. From what he was aware, Henry made it. The name itself gave him the chills. The room was dark, except for the one, blue light source. The arcade machine's screen glowed brightly compared to the dark, shadowy room. Wires, nails and tools were scattered across the floor unevenly. Jack wasn't the most organized person. He'd rather go search the floor for tools rather than knowing where they were in a toolbox. 

    Jack walked up to the arcade; his hand naturally gliding to the controls. He drew his hand away. He stared at the screen and grabbed the cassette recorder he had left on top of the machine, and pressed record. 

    "January sixth, twenty twenty-three. [ 1 / 6 / 2023 ]" he said out loud. "Attempt...what? forty-eight now...? Fuck, I need to get better at remembering the numbers." 

    He continued to record. He didn't need to record, but it just felt nice to be feeling like he was a scientist discovering something important. He knew Henry had made it, and it had to do something with souls, but that was all. He reasoned that because he lacked a soul, it wouldn't hurt to mess with. He walked behind it, and plugged it in. It still had power without plugging it in but would work better with more power. As soon as he plugged it in, the light from underneath the door flickered. 

    It's using a lotta power, like usual...  He thought, shuttering. I gotta make this test quick. I don't wanna be paying more electricity bills. 

    Jack stumbled back to the front of the arcade machine. He took a deep breath and placed his palm on the screen. Nothing.

    Fuck.

    He screamed, pulling his first hand off, and using his other one to punch it. But...his fist didn't hit the screen. It instead, went through the screen. He, not noticing this in time, lost balance and tumbled into it. His body crashed into the floor...but it wasn't the carpeted floor of the room, no. It was hard tile. He opened his eyes. It was a dark pizzeria. He got up with speed, filled with energy he didn't have before. 

    "It...it worked?" he muttered, looking around. "It worked! FUCK YEAH!!" 

    He pumped his fist into the air. He looked for his cassette player, but it was nowhere to be seen. Jack shrugged. It must've been left behind. He was just happy it finally worked. But...where was he? He looked at where he had fallen, but pivoted when he heard a familiar voice.

    "Hello, old sport!"