Dave had been trapped in the safe room for so long that time had lost all meaning. The darkness had become his only companion—heavy, stagnant, unbroken.
Until today.
A faint sliver of light slipped under the boarded doorway, stabbing into the room like something foreign.
"Hey dude! I think I found something!" a young woman called from the other side, her voice full of careless enthusiasm.
A second voice—male—answered, equally oblivious. "Woah! A secret room! How about that?"
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get this thing open!" the man said.
The light widened as they pried the boards loose. Dust drifted upward, disturbed for the first time in decades. The pair stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the black.
"Woah, take a look at this relic!" the woman said, her beam landing on him—on the rotting, slumped Spring Bonnie suit.
"Oh yeah, this is perfect for the attraction! Ha ha! This must be our lucky day!" the man said.
Dave's shriveled lungs tried to laugh, but only produced a wet, rattling hiss.
Oh, how wrong you are, boy...
"We should probably get something to carry it out, though. It's probably pretty heavy," the man added.
"On it," the woman said, jogging back out.
"Oh, and could you get some gloves too?" he called.
"Yeah, don't worry! I was already going to!" she replied.
The man turned back toward Dave... and paused. He could've sworn the suit's head had tilted slightly since he last looked at it.
It unnerved him—but only for a moment. He shrugged it off, thinking it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Soon the woman returned with a platform truck and two pairs of gloves.
"Thank you," the man said, pulling the gloves on. He bent to lift the suit. "Damn, this thing is heavier than I thought it'd be."
"Need help?" she asked.
"Yes, please."
"Fine. Good thing I brought extra gloves." She suited up, grabbed the suit's legs, and together they hefted the carcass of Dave's prison onto the platform truck.
"Heh, with how old this thing looks, I'm surprised it didn't come apart the moment we picked it up," she joked.
"Hahaha! Anyway, let's get going! This thing isn't going to move itself."
They pushed the truck out of the room—taking Dave with them.
Henry was bent over his workbench when William appeared behind him, a distortion in the air more than a presence.
Henry didn't turn around. He didn't need to.
"He's back, isn't he?" Henry asked quietly.
"Yes, he is," William answered.
Henry exhaled—more tired than surprised. "Spare me the details. Fazbear's Fright, right?"
"Yeah. Already heard about it, I assume?"
"Yeah. A group of young people bought the building and turned it into a horror attraction. The company didn't even run it by me first." He shook his head. "Fazbear Entertainment has always been... pretty corrupt like that."
William hovered closer. "What do you propose we do?"
"Nothing, at the moment," Henry said. "Jeremy just started working there. And the only thing I can think of doing would put his life in danger."
"And what's that?" William asked.
"Burning the place to the ground." Henry's jaw tightened. "I can do it this weekend; the attraction doesn't run on weekends. But until then, keep Jeremy safe. I've come to care about him too."
"Okay, old friend. I will. Farewell, for now," William said.
"Goodbye, for now, William."
William faded, leaving the room colder.
The weekend came.
Henry moved through Fazbear's Fright like a ghost, sabotaging the wiring, making the eventual blaze look like an accident. Gasoline dripped in long lines across the floorboards and props. When everything was ready, he stepped outside, struck a match, watched the flame tremble between his fingers... and let it fall.
The fire caught instantly.
The building went up fast—far faster than Henry expected. He watched as smoke boiled into the sky, a decade's worth of nightmares crackling behind the flames.
But even as he walked away from the inferno, even as he felt the victory of this moment, he knew it wasn't over.
He would need a backup plan.
Because with Dave, with all of this—things were never that simple.
And there were still loose ends.
Far too many of them.