The Fallen a TJoC Story

Chapter I

The acrid scent of molten metal filled my nostrils, a thick cloud of heat and fumes that clung to my skin as I hammered away at the glowing piece of metal on the anvil before me. Every strike of the hammer sent a sharp ringing sound echoing through the garage, reverberating off the walls like an old, familiar song. I could feel the impact of each blow in my bones, a deep and satisfying ache in my arms that I had grown used to over the years. The forge blazed behind me, casting long, flickering shadows that danced along the walls like ghosts. The heat from the metal was intense, rolling off in waves, so hot that it felt like my face was burning even though I stood a few feet away.

Sweat dripped down my temples and into my eyes, making them sting, but I didn't stop to wipe it away. My focus was locked entirely on the task at hand. I had been working on this piece for hours, shaping it, molding it, trying to bring my vision to life. The clang of the hammer was almost hypnotic, a rhythm that kept me going even when my muscles screamed for rest.

In the far corner of the garage, almost swallowed by the shadows, stood four towering figures—each one frozen in place like they were waiting for something. They were old, their surfaces covered in layers of dust and grime, yet their forms were still unmistakable. A brown bear, a purple rabbit, a reddish-orange fox, and a yellow chicken. Their dull, glassy eyes seemed to watch me as I worked, like they were silently judging what I was doing. The animatronics had been in my father's collection for as long as I could remember, relics of a time that felt more like a dream than reality.

They looked almost lifeless now, their once bright colors faded and their mechanical joints rusted with age. But there was something about them that still felt...alive. As if at any moment they could wake up, the gears inside them whirring to life again. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, but I quickly shook it off. They were just machines—old, broken machines that had long since served their purpose. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were more than that.

But my focus wasn't on them tonight. What I was working on was something much older, something much more personal. On the workbench beside me lay the remains of an animatronic that my father had built himself, long before the others came into the picture. Fredbear.

He was in rough shape—barely held together with wires and metal parts that seemed ready to fall apart at any moment. His once gleaming golden fur was now patchy and worn, with entire sections missing from his lower left arm and both legs. His lower jaw was gone entirely, leaving his face in a permanent, eerie grin. A black top hat still sat perched atop his head, tilted slightly to one side, and a matching bowtie hung loosely around his neck. His body was round, with two small black buttons embedded in his chest, giving him a comically formal appearance despite his dilapidated condition. But the most unsettling part was his eyes—or rather, the empty sockets where his eyes should have been. Two faint white lights flickered deep within the hollow spaces, giving the illusion that he was watching me.

I had been working on him for months now, slowly piecing him back together, restoring him bit by bit. It was a labor of love, one that meant more to me than just fixing up an old machine. Rebuilding Fredbear—and the others—was part of a bigger plan. A dream, really.

My father had once run a restaurant, a place that brought joy and laughter to countless kids. He was passionate about making people happy, especially children. But that happiness had come at a cost. Something went wrong, terribly wrong, and it had all come crashing down. The restaurant was closed, and the animatronics were left to rot. My father never spoke about what happened, not in detail. But I knew. Everyone knew the rumors. The stories about what had occurred in those final days. It was why I wanted to rebuild his legacy—but this time, do it right.

Not just for him, but for me. For those kids. I didn't just want to bring back the joy and excitement; I wanted to make it safer. I wanted to prevent what had happened at my father's restaurants from happening again. With today's technology, I could make these machines better, smarter, safer. There was no doubt in my mind about what I could achieve. I just had to keep working.