When They Were Lost . . . (Sequel to That Time In 1987. . . .)

18: A Chase

(fanart in the media is by @Kamikaze--, depicting Freddy with his wings)

(Chica's POV)

Chica's palms were sticky with sweat. She clenched them and unclenched them, hoping to get that nasty feeling away. It wouldn't go away, which was an annoyance.

"I didn't know the Janitor came here over the weekend!" Foxy hissed. "How didn't I know this?"

"Relax," Ben assured. "I'm sure we can get past him easily, but a distraction will be needed."

Chica stayed silent, knowing the existence of two conversations in their group. There was one in between Ben and Foxy, and there was another in between Bonnie and Freddy. Chica switched her attention to Freddy and Bonnie's conversation.

" . . . across the floor and down that hall. He'll probably notice me. You stay silent and hide," Freddy whispered.

Bonnie stared at him, as though he were speaking a different language. "Where should I hide? He will see all of us if he comes after you."

Freddy looked around. Chica could easily notice the quivering in his arms and legs, the frantic wiggling of the eyes across the empty commons area. His eyes locked onto a specific window, his finger pointing in the same direction he was looking. "There. In the office." Freddy then reached into his pocket and fumbled around a little before pulling out the recognizable Janitor's Key. He reached out to Bonnie with the key. "Take this key, at least if the door is locked. Keep it safe and if you're not using it, put it in your pocket."

"How will I get to Room 13? From the office between the janitor and the Room—"

Freddy's gaze shifted up to the janitor. He slapped Bonnie's shoulder and slowly started to raise from his knees. Chica's heart pounded as she realized that the janitor was coming in their direction, the rattling din of his equipment echoing through the hall.

Chica's heart pounded even more when she realized that Freddy was getting up to his feet and walking out onto the floor.

Her bones chilled much more after a sudden voice whispered in her ear, the cold breath caressing her face. "Run."

*****

 (Freddy's POV)

Freddy skipped to the side as he dashed across the commons. He kept his gaze fixed on the janitor, who noticed him very soon.

"Kids!" the large man yelled. Freddy's heart pounded as he changed his position from skipping sideways to sprinting full throttle down the hallway. From behind him, Freddy could hear the janitor's heavy footsteps. He turned his head to look at the janitor. In the fleeting instant that the Janitor was in Freddy's vision, he seemed to have a crazed look in his eye. Freddy didn't want to think about what it meant.

He looked up and found a classroom door open just a few paces away. Freddy felt his heart in his throat, pounding every ounce of blood it could. Heaving breaths tearing at his chest, Freddy darted into the classroom.

Inside of the classroom, it was dark. The shudders that covered the windows were shut, giving the room a low cyan haze. Upon frantic observation, the room seemed to be the Foods class. There were multiple counters in the center of the room. Each one had a sink and cupboards. With no time to lose, Freddy jumped behind a counter and crouched, hoping the janitor wouldn't see him.

That was when low footsteps echoed in Freddy's ears.

He felt absolutely no motivation to move, even though he had all the reason to. But even so, he felt paralyzed. All he could do was try and keep his breaths at a low number and quiver in fear.

The Janitor took another step, making it loud and clear. "Kid, show yourself."

The man didn't sound the same. He didn't sound like he did when Freddy had "vomited" and stolen his key. His voice was lower and sounded more familiar . . .

CRASH! Something shattered against the ground near Freddy. He gulped, his hands quivering against the floor. He had to move.

With a shiver-cracked chest, Freddy pushed against the floor, propping his knees up so that his feet were on their toes on the ground. Freddy shivered as he waited.

Wait . . .

Now.

Freddy sprung up off of the floor, sprinting across the room. He looked back at the janitor. His eyes widened as he realized that it wasn't the Janitor.

Jonathan stood in the same place as the Janitor, the blue janitor outfit hanging loosely on his skinny purple body.

The man laughed in his throat. "Oh, Freddy. Are you ready?" The laugh immediately transitioned from internal to external, raising to hysterical. Even psychotic.

Freddy needed to escape. He let his power gather in his back, feeling the bright wings he had begin to seep out of his shoulder blades.

But Jonathan raised a hand, letting it glow with purple energy. Before Freddy could do anything, the energy launched forward and slammed into Freddy's chest. With the pain, Freddy gasped and held it there, the electricity surging inside of him.

He felt his eyelids slide shut as these words rang in his ears: "I'm gonna make sure you die and stay dead."

*****

Pain. Searing pain. Etched into Freddy's back. It felt like a sunburn, but it was worse. It seemed to penetrate deep inside him, intertwining with every nerve he had.

Freddy's eyes opened. He felt his wrists ache, seemingly attached to something. He raised his head from its slumbering position. He found his wrists bound to a large wooden post by thick ropes. Freddy was kneeling down.

He put his head up to get a look--

THWAP! The pain in Freddy's back rapidly increased as something struck it. Freddy yelped with pain, his head hitting the post. He felt itchy breaths rack his stomach and chest. With that in mind, he also realized that he was shirtless--

THWAP! Again, massive pain spreading through his back. Agony slashed Freddy into bits. What was happening to him.

"Must . . . destroy . . . them . . ." rang a raspy voice from behind Freddy. He knew that voice most certainly. Jonathan.

"Freddy, just remember . . ." Jonathan said sincerely, circling around from behind Freddy. Freddy looked at Jonathan and found a red whip in his right hand.

The whip itself wasn't red. Freddy's blood was.

Jonathan stared at Freddy, calm, but with dictatorship. "The dog only attacks because it loves something."

Rage pent up in Freddy, but he didn't want to do anything. Instead, he put his head against the post, confused, angry, and scared.

(A/N: ;) Thank you and have a lovely day.)