So…remember last week (and the week before that and possibly the week before that) when I said this week would be see the last chapter of the second book in my FNAFiction series uploaded? Yeah, well, I failed to take into consideration the fact that the last chapter was thirty pages long. So I split it into two, which means that this is still the penultimate chapter and NEXT week will be the last chapter of the second book in my 5-part series. I swear. For realsies this time.
I want to thank everyone who has commented here or messaged me privately concerning last week’s blog post, by the way. I want to respond individually, but with the deadline I’ve been under, have just not been able to allocate the time. I do appreciate it, however. I read each and every one of your messages and am always grateful for your feedback and encouragement.
Since blog whenever and about whatever seems to be the consensus, I guess I’ll improvise for a while and see where it gets me. At the moment, as I say, I’m really rushing to get this last run of edits done, but as soon as I’m out from under that particular onus, I will start making two posts a week–one wip update, and one actual effort to blog.
So yeah, the new chapter’s up over at fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org. Good news, it’s up super-early, because I’ve been up since yesterday and I have every intention of sleeping until Sunday. Not as good news (or even better news, depending on your personal philosophy), it’s not the last one. One more (always one more), and then we’ll say goodbye to Everything Is All Right, Part 2: Mike Schmidt and the Long Night, and say hello to Part 3: Children of Mammon. …crap, I need to write a blurb…. oh well. Here’s an excerpt for you to enjoy while I try to figure out how to tell a 300 page story in 140 words or less.
Mike waited until they were in the car and on the road before he took up the story again. “Faust broke ground on the last Fazbear’s, the one I call the Trap, on September 10th of 1999. It opened January 1st, 2000, and you, of all people, ought to know how impossible it is to throw up a place like that in that amount of time. Like Metzger, he had crews going around the clock, shuffling labor around, hiring and firing so fast, hardly anyone even knew what they were building.”
“Why do you call it the Trap?” Ana interrupted. “Weren’t they all traps, according to you?”
“To me, huh?” He snorted, then shrugged. “I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.”
“Faust’s perspective, you mean?”
“You are if you’re saying he was the one setting the trap,” Ana said. “What was he trying to catch?”
Mike drove in silence one minute, two, three…and then pulled the car over to the shoulder so suddenly, Ana knocked her head on the window. Mike braked—the tires squealed a protest—and then just sat while the engine idled and time passed.
“Look,” he said at length. “I have been talking all night and if I’ve still got to spell this shit out, I guess there’s no point in going on. So I’m going to ask and I need you to answer me…What was going on at Fazbear’s? What’s the connection between all those missing kids and those fucking animatronics? I’ve got a bullshit theory, but I want you to tell me what it is.”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t know. Because she didn’t. Oh, she knew what he wanted her to say, but that…that was pure Hollywood horror movie. Not even Hollywood. That was straight-to-the-dollar-bin-DVD horror. That was a Syfy Original Picture. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real.
“I don’t believe it,” she said at last. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’m not asking you to believe it. I’m asking you to say it. So say it. Tell me what I believe, if that helps, but you say it out loud.”
She couldn’t. After everything she’d seen tonight…the one thing she kept seeing now was her pizzeria, her Freddy, her Chica and Foxy. Her Bonnie. They weren’t killers. They weren’t monsters. They just weren’t.