This is a story based on the fan comic Five Nights at Freddy's: Lost Souls made by ChiwwyDawg. You can find them on both Webtoon and Deviantart. I've gained permission to use their ideas
A man in a thick purple jacket with army-green pockets stares at the big sign above the bar that he had visited so many times. "Jimmy's" had been open since he was a teenager. His dad stopped by there a lot. Alcoholism must be genetic, he guessed.
Opening the front door, the man is greeted with cheers and stomping feet. He can't help but smile at the noise the other men, and a few women, were making. He'd already asked them to not cheer every time he walked in, but they refuse to listen.
Shaking his head slightly, the man just chuckles and walks to one of the stools by the bar, taking a quick glance at the TV anchored to the ceiling. At the moment, the names of all those that had been killed in Ukraine and Belarus this last month slowly scroll down the screen. Though the Russians have constantly threatened nuclear attack, they haven't launched any nukes yet. Probably because they want the resources that Ukraine has to offer, and they can't exactly use Belarus as a springboard to attack Ukraine if it's so irradiated that they can't even enter it. Eventually, the names disappear, and the news changes to Putin warning that they would find the so-called 'Deathwish'. He may have escaped once, but they will find him and will make sure that everyone sees him be 'brought to justice'.
"That's big talk, seeing as they're never gonna find him," The thump of a bottle being set on the table attracts the man's attention, and he turns his head away from the television to look at the bartender. The thin, glasses-wearing man gives him a smile before walking to attend to another patron, saying "It's your usual. On the house" as he walks away.
The seated man stares down at the bottle before picking it up and taking a swig. It had a lot of burn going down, just like he prefers. As the man drinks, his hand wanders to the Devastator 65 on his hip. He had shot it a few days ago, but needed some more practice. He still wasn't accustomed to the more powerful round. After all, not many pistols shoot a titanium alloy, hollow point bullet with an added C4 kicker. He doesn't even want to think how much a box of 60 shells costs. Thankfully he got a 50% discount whenever he buys some, but it still was atrociously expensive.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
He quickly finishes his drink and asks for another, though the bartender refuses to let him pay.
The man considers finishing the drink in his hand, but decides he should head out. Besides, he's got stuff to do.
He walks out to the bar's parking lot, heading over to the motorcycle parked in a dark corner. After stuffing his drink into a small cooler under the seat, he hops on and drives onto the main road, quickly peeling off into a smaller road and turning onto a street that led into the woods. He had scouted the place out a couple of times but had never had the courage to enter.
The man parks his motorcycle in a secluded area outside the park. He takes a deep breath, though pauses to grab the bottle from under his seat, drinking it quickly and tossing it against a tree, where it shatters. He walks inside, making a beeline for the large building in the middle. He probably only had 15 minutes to get inside before the fog shows up. He'd seen what happens to things not in a building, and he really didn't feel like getting eviscerated today.
