Five Nights At Freddy's Sister Location 2

13) The joy of creation

The vast, cold hallways of Fazbear Industries stretched endlessly, echoing with the whispers of lost laughter and screams long stilled. Built like an enormous mall, this three-story edifice loomed like a fortress of nostalgia and despair, where memories twisted into something grotesque. Emily shivered as she stepped inside, the heavy metal doors clanging shut behind her. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting a sickly glow that sharpened the shadows into lurking shapes.

"I still can't believe you talked me into this," Emily murmured to the elderly security guard beside her. Michael, stooped by age yet sturdy like an oak, grinned knowingly. He had a spark in his brown eyes that belied his apparent frailty, a fire forged from countless nights spent among the relics of lost joy and terror.

"Just wait 'til you see the third floor," he replied, his voice gravelly with time. "It's a piece of history. It all started with Scott Cawthon, you know. The man behind everything—Fazbear Entertainment, the mascots, the fame and the failures."

Michael led her through the dimly lit corridors, their footsteps echoing against the cold tile floor. As they ascended the stairs, the air shimmered with a strange energy, something primed and restless, as if the building itself were alive.

"This place used to reek of laughter," Michael reminisced as they arrived on the third floor. He pushed open the heavy door, and a cacophony of sights and sounds assaulted her senses. It was designed like a futuristic outer space playground—glowing stars adorned the ceiling, laser lights danced along the walls, and interactive screens flickered with old animations of anthropomorphic animals.

But something was off.

"Told you it was impressive," Michael said, his pride mingling with a hint of sadness. "More than a decade, I watched it grow—watched the joy turn into fear. The kids loved it, but..."

Emily noticed the dark corners, the places the light did not reach. "But what?" she prodded, sensing the story lingering just beyond his lips.

He hesitated, his hands knotted into fists. "But it became a monument to something more sinister. Too many accidents, too many disappearances." His voice dropped, reverberating with the weight of unspoken truths. "You're looking at a graveyard of dreams, Emily."

"What do you mean?" she asked, glancing around. The air felt thicker, as if the very walls were pressing in, closing up any light they may have had.

Michael stepped closer, lowering his voice. "It's the atmosphere. The laughter echoes here, but the screams..." he trailed off, his gaze distant. "Scott... he made this place a beacon of childhood joy. But in trying to build something magical, something went horribly wrong. He lost control."

As Emily wandered further into the vast space, she felt a magnetic pull towards what was once the center of attraction—a shimmering stage where animatronic characters would sway and sing. The stage was eerily silent now, yet it seemed to pulse with memories of an audience, laughter long extinguished.

"Who... who were the animatronics?" Emily whispered, almost afraid to voice her curiosity aloud.

Michael sighed heavily. "They started out innocent—just machines designed for fun. But something darker began to seep into their circuitry. You've heard the stories, right? The hauntings? The voices in the night?"

Emily barely nodded, uncomfortable as a chill crawled up her spine.

"They were supposed to entertain, but they became haunted vessels," he said. "Scott knew—he always did. I don't know how or why, but there were things he kept hidden. This place became a prison for them, for the souls lost among the laughter."

"Souls?" she echoed, incredulous.

Michael pointed to a mural on the wall, depicting an array of animatronics—their eyes seemed to glisten as though they contained a spark of life. Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, and Freddy Fazbear. All redesigned to fit in with the space theme. "They were once children. Infants, really. They thrived on joy and innocence." His voice dropped again, thick with emotion. "But Scott's ambition... he wanted to create something everlasting. But his own creation, Charles' father William Afton ruined Scott's creation. Perhaps maybe Scott had it all planned. Children went missing and the rest is quite haunting and gruesome."

Emily felt a wave of nausea crash over her. "What did he do to them?"

"Interferences, a series of experiments along with the use of AI incorporated into their very being. It allowed them to mimic humanity in a twisted way, but it also imprisoned them. Trapped themselves and the echoes of their innocent laughter in these shells of metal and wires. Top it all off Afton's murders caused the animatronics to become possessed by the ghosts of the children murdered. They seek to be freed from the imprisonment of the animatronics, but, they also want revenge. The programming of the vessels are incompatible with the spirits wants and needs and so the conflicting interference causes them to act violently as you already found out."

As Michael spoke, the temperature plummeted. A piercing sound pierced the air—a high-pitched whirring echoed through the silence of the third floor. Both Emily and Michael froze, eyes darting toward the noise.

"What was that?" Emily exclaimed, her heart racing.

Michael's expression shifted from nostalgia to urgency. "That's not right," he whispered. He scanned the room, the once glimmering lights flickering ominously. Shadows crept along the floor, elongating as unseen forces stirred in the darkness.

Suddenly, an animatronic figure—tall, rigid, with a grotesque grin—stepped into view. Its eyes blinked, hollow and devoid of warmth, as it tilted its head unnaturally towards them. The room vibrated with a heavy stillness, punctuated only by the faint echoes of giggling children that seemed to originate from nowhere and everywhere.

"Michael!" Emily screamed, desperately grabbing his sleeve. "We need to go!"

But Michael stood frozen, eyes locked onto the creature. "They're trying to communicate," he murmured. "They're trapped..." The corners of the animatronic's grin seemed to deepen, transforming into something far more sinister.

As Emily pulled at him, the creature began to move, jerking toward them with unnatural speed. A chorus of voices—a blend of laughter and horror—filled Emily's ears, drowning her mind in chaos. In a panic, she turned, dragging Michael toward the stairs.

"We have to get out of here!" she shouted, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Michael finally broke from his trance, and they sprinted through the maze of memories that looked ready to swallow them whole. Behind them, the laughter morphed into a high-pitched cacophony, both mocking and pleading.

As they descended the stairs, Emily felt the stifling grasp of the building's secrets beginning to close around her. The air grew thick with despair; shadows darted just out of sight, swirling with the echoes of a forgotten world.

The door to the ground floor groaned with resistance, but they crashed through, tumbling into the parking lot, breathless and shaking. The night air tasted liberating, yet carry hints of something dreadful.

Michael looked pale, his eyes hollow. "They're still here, Emily. They can't leave this place."

As she stumbled back, leaning against the cool metal of a car, Emily's heart raced at Michael's words. The shadows of Fazbear Industries loomed in the background, holding secrets of laughter forever tainted by shadows of demise, looming over both of them.

Emily knew she had only peeled back the surface of a greater truth, a truth rooted deep in the very marrow of this haunting playground. She glanced back at the building, an ominous sentinel, and felt the weight of its history press down on her like a vice.

Underneath it all, Fazbear Industries was not just a place of fun—no, it was a restless battleground of lost souls, screaming for recognition under the guise of childhood innocence, forever bound by the man who had tried so desperately to create magic but unwittingly embraced horror.