Finding The Five || FNAF Movie

13 || Back In The 80s

(Unedited, 4469 words)
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, fear, cursing

"What do you mean it thinks we're kids?" Jonah asks sharply, looking up from his place on the concrete. He's still sitting; nobody has the heart to ask him to stand. Mike and I are on our feet, my arms crossed and his in his pockets. I'm looking down at my feet, and the last time I looked up, Mike was staring into the building to his right, my left. We haven't mentioned going back in yet, but the topic is coming up quick.

"I'm not completely sure, Jonah, but Annabeth might've been right. Maybe souls can die— or partially die— before their bodies do. That might be why this security figure thinks we're kids. That might be why it's so adamant about protecting kids, or why it keeps asking me to." My words hardly make sense to me, so I can't even imagine what Jonah and Mike think about my mess of an explanation.

"What is 'it'?" Mike asks. "Who's been talking to you?"

"It's connected to the box behind the prize counter, so it has to be the Puppet," I respond, crossing my arms over my chest and letting my gaze sink down to the pavement. "Mrs. Fitzgerald said the Puppet was the old security system, and Jeremy said it depended on a music box. That's what kept it calm at night." 

"Okay, okay," Mike butts in, holding his hands up as if asking me to stop. I comply as our eyes find each other and he pauses for a moment before continuing. "That's great but, what does it have to do with our spirits? The five from the other location?" 

I stop to think for a second, not breaking eye contact with him as he slowly lowers his arms down. 

He's right. 

We need to find ours first. 

After all, I haven't felt any strong spiritual energies coming from the building itself aside from the Puppet. Maybe it's the only thing in there and Mrs. Fitzgerald was wrong. 

Maybe the spirits left when Jeremy did. 

"Okay," I say firmly, nodding and letting our gazes fall apart. "I'm going to try and find our five." 

"What... what do you mean?" Mike asks, audibly and visibly confused by my statement. I guess he has a reason to be; my words didn't exactly answer his question. 

"The building is quiet aside from the Puppet," I clarify, catching Jonah's glance up at me. We look at each other for a moment before I add, "It might take me a minute, but if we walk around, I'll be able to try and find a line of communication. If our spirits are here, they'll—"

They won't recognize me.

"They'll...?" Mike prompts. I clear my throat and readjust my stance. 

"I think you'll have to convince them to talk," I say, turning to look at him. He sighs, looking away and clenching his jaw. 

"How did I know you were going to say that?" he asks, laughing nervously. 

"Hey, I told you I'm not great with spirits. My expertise lies in residual energy," I chime, looking back at the building. "Besides, they'll recognize you." 

"Fair point," Mike comments quietly. 

"But," I cut in, slowly turning my gaze to Jonah, "that means we can't take breaks. Rushing in and out can break lines of contact and scare spirits off." The parking lot falls quiet for a moment, all attention but only my eyes on Jonah. He looks up at the ground for a long time, and I have to force my lips to stay shut as his worried emotions slowly slip into terror and eventually hysteria. 

Slowly, with a great deal of struggle, he looks up at me. 

There's an apology written across his irises and I know he's made his choice.