Laughing, smiling, happy children, shrieking with delight as they moved about the pizzeria. It has been 27 years since I saw you last. It was 27 years in the dark, comforting the others that were left behind.
Repairing them, fixing them, reassuring them that the children will come back. Trying to comfort them, calm the fears they have about no longer having a purpose.
About dying alone, forgotten and unloved in the dark.
I can’t say I haven’t felt those same fears. I distracted myself with other things, taking care of the Toys that call me their Daddy. I don’t mind it. I appreciate it. I suppose I do love them. But they are not my true children. They lack the spark. The twisted gift I gave them so long ago. As much as I love them, they will always be my adopted children.
They were not given the gift, and hopefully they never will.
It was a rash decision, caused by fear, hatred, and a desperate desire to protect children. We were programmed to love children, and I alone was programmed to give them joy, through gifts.
I remember the children. I remember the living ones.
Before the nightmare began, I was different. I was the Puppet. Life was simple. Make children happy. Give gifts. Give joy. Love children. Be their friend. The others and I were friendly, the Fazbear Five. Then we heard the news. That something had happened out there, in the world outside the pizzeria. We were not told what, but Freddy seemed more troubled every day, glitching and sparking onstage and offstage.
I remember the children. I remember the dead ones.
The murdered ones. The broken forms husks of life, clutched in my fingers, blood soaked into their clothing. Smiles replaced by hollow, glassy gazes and silent screams. The fear that I felt. The panic and anguish of loss. The rage I felt against the one who had done this. The horror of what I did next.
The first body was thrown into my box, my home and now, my prison. I remember those first moments, those terrifying seconds of a new kind of awareness. Opening my eyes for what seemed like the first time, I saw the corpse lying beside me. In my newfound higher intelligence, I was afraid. In a panic, I tried to hide the corpse in a place I thought they wouldn’t check. My box was closest to Pirate’s Cove. Rashly, I choose to put the body inside what would be my first son, Foxy. I quickly shoved it in, before realizing the damage I was doing to him. His circuits, wires, and supports were displaced, broken, and cracked by the gruesome new part that I added.
Horrified by what I had done to my friend, I hurried to the backroom, a safe haven, a place of repairs, to gather my wits. Only then did I discover the second body. At this point, fear turned into anger and sorrow. Another child had been struck dead under our gaze. Carefully this time, I repeated my horrific process, this time tucking the child into Fredbear’s frame. At this time, I knew that I had to hide them, to keep them safe from the gaze of the humans, for fear of the consequences. That I knew, above all else. We would be shut down. We would die. I would not see my friends die. I did not understand the truly unnatural path I had started us all down. I had stopped being just ‘The Puppet’. I was Jack. I was barely able to understand my newfound sentience, and the power it carried. I didn’t truly understand that what I now grasped was supernatural power, aided by the spirits of those children, whom I now strive to take care of.
Then, we moved. Fredbear’s Family Diner was shut down, and my old friends were pushed aside, for the new, strange, plastic replacements. I alone was left untouched, undoubtedly because of the discomfort I instilled in the adults. I was glad for this, as it left me caring for the children, and let me watch over them.
Then again and again, the murderer struck. The monster that watched over the children, the security guard, was slaughtering them all. The toys couldn’t do anything, their systems having been tampered with. I needed to protect the children. I needed to give them the gift of safety against an unthinkable monster. So I worked fast, repairing my old friends as well as I could, giving them the same life I had been thrust into. The bodies of the latest victims became my tools in my crusade to keep the children safe. Bonnie and Chica were given the same, twisted, unnatural life that there brothers and I had received so very long ago.
And in the joy of their creation, they became my children. Confused, they looked to me for guidance. And I gave it to them. I told them to protect the little ones we all knew and loved. I told them to destroy, maim, and murder the one who had done it. As the week went on, I slowly stopped seeing adults. I could only see the purple figure, a security guard that had committed the unthinkable crime. Slowly, as my rage, sorrow, and guilt built up in my programming, I stopped seeing adults.
I only see purple figures, walking amongst the children. He wore a golden suit. Yours, Golden. It was only recently I found out that a third child was slaughtered here. Your little one, Gloria.
I remember my children. Reborn through evil, to protect the good.
And then, as soon as the toys had been created, the first week we had been in our new home, it was abandoned. The toys and I were left to rot, while the humans took my true children away. It was only after you were taken I realized how much I loved you all. In the short time we had spent together, it had been clouded by rage, vengeance, and horror. I took care for the others, projecting the love I had for my own children onto them. In time, I grew to love them too, but the longing to see my real children was still there. It was then I was Mr. Strings, caring, doting father to the others.
I still read the papers. The manager was afraid of me, and in what I assumed was an act of bribery, continued getting them mailed here. It was then I read about the killings had continued, at the new restaurant. Furious, scared, and panicked, I tracked the address down, following a ‘Help Wanted’ ad, and sought to continue my attempt to protect the children from a predator they could not escape. When I saw you all once again, I had no idea you were no longer the same. You were different in body than I remembered, and when I looked inside your suits, the children were no longer there. In the killer’s haste, he had left the bodies in a storage closet nearby. I repeated the same process, and was careful in going about my handiwork this time. This time, as I looked into your eyes, Fredbear, I saw the spark I was looking for. The same spark that had awakened me all those years ago. You all were better. I hoped this would be the end of the murders. I returned here, to realize the horrors that I had inflicted
And then, you returned.
My own children, broken, damaged and scarred, returned. 27 years have changed them. No longer are they confused, lost and unbound. They are their own entities, just as I became who I am. Mr. Strings was happy to see you all. Jack felt betrayed and abandoned. Mr. Strings realized you did not remember this place, and so I sought to reconnect.
When I look back upon our shared past, I feel remorse intermingled with joy. Rage mixed with loss. Power merged with helplessness. All the guilt I have felt over the last 27 years came rushing back.
And now, my children, you know it. You humans have sensed it, but did not understand it. My children, you now carry the essence of it, Fredbear more than the others. Because I have a secret that has stayed hidden for 27 years.
I am more than Jack. I am more than Mr. Strings, or the Puppet, or the freak that scares the adults I no longer trust. I am the father to my own children, of metal and wires. But I am also the father to the spirits, each one’s corpse once carried in the innards of my own children. They have bound to me, and I do my best for them. Their presence has gifted me with sentience, and supernatural power. In return, I give them a father’s love, and a nurturing hand.
But with this power is the realization that I am no longer a simple animatronic. I am more than that. I have taken steps to protect the children at the cost of my sanity. I am a monster, who has delved into the heart of darkness to protect the few good things I see around me. I am beyond redemption. I am haunted by what I have done, and what I am today. I am Jack, the vengeful spirit, willing to destroy anything in my path. I am Mr. Strings, caring, protective father to all children. I am all of these things.
One day, I hope the monster returns. I hope the man behind that wretched golden mask comes back to this place. That one day, I will get to show him how much I truly I love the children, mechanical or not. I will show him what happens when you hurt a father’s kids. If it wishes to act like a demon, then I will show it the Devil. I will end this nightmare myself, for the living and the dead. Because the monster that lurks in this place isn’t a murderer in a costume, or a mechanical killer, or a vengeful spirt.
It’s me.
