A Guard's life

From the inside out

A/N: I almost forgot posting. Dammit, I'm dying.

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Phone Guy hadn't bothered sticking around fortoo long, after he managed to escape... or rather, after Ballora allowed him toleave. His head hurt terribly as he left his position without permission, butfucking hell, he didn't- he didn't want to die under those robots.
At some point he couldn't feel his legs anymore and leaned against the nearestwall, breathing unsteadily.
Why was he always the one with the near death experiences?!
Probably because he was just a stupid fucking idiot that actually had survivedlonger than he should already. How often has he survived by now because ofnothing but good luck?
Or rather because someone else intervened?
Far too many times.
Slowly he raised his hand to rub his dial, but stopped as he noticed his handshaking too much.
Every Phone Guy dies someday. They were expected to go without much drama andscreaming was barely anything more- who was he kidding, screaming was nothingbut a waste of energy.
Why he would still preserve his energy at that point?
No idea.
Out of principle?
When Ballora had touched his neck, probably with the intention of breaking it,there was no freaking out. It was more of a dreadful, empty feeling, like avisit to the dentist... it was unavoidable and over soon, even if it wasn'tpleasant.
Quietly he exhaled.
Why did it suddenly bother him so much that he reacted so little?
To be fair, everyone's reaction to death, at least at Freddy's, was almostnon-existent. It needed to be, it was what had kept them alive for so long.Screaming and crying usually just angered the aggressor and there was nobody tohelp them anyway.
Still.
It felt like they had stolen something from him.
As if they had stolen his death screams already and were now only watching himmove forward in silent terror. Every station he passed they took somethingaway.
First his screams, then his head, then his will...
Finally he reached his car and drove to the more secluded wooden area.
Even his home felt currently disgusting to him. He didn't chose the place, itwasn't HIS. Dammit, the most home it ever felt was the day Mike spend with himthere.
For a moment he hesitated, his hand almost reaching for his receiver.
No, he couldn't call him for three reasons. Firstly, it would wake him up andgod knew that Mike didn't appreciate being woken up. Secondly, it was probablybad for Mike's health to be woken up with bad news. And thirdly... he would haveto admit that he failed the night.
The guy would probably go haywire over that.
Gosh darnit, that almost made him feel warm inside. Having someone actuallycare if you were alive or dead...
Slowly his thoughts wandered off again, towards the topic he tried to suppressharder than he could allow himself to admit.
Ian.
It stung like a bitch. He hated this feeling. Remembering his brother had been...horrible. It made looking at the old animatronics even harder.
After all this time he...
He thought it would be over.
When he spotted what Dave did he had been disturbed, confused and resentful.
No. He didn't want to die at that point. But he didn't know what else to do.
It offered him some grim closure, one last way to be... good. To do somethinguseful.
Joke's on him.
Another moment he paused, the thought intruding again and again.
What if his brother stayed as well?
He wouldn't be the first-
No. Stop that.
Ghost needed something unresolved, something to keep them on earth.
Obviously Ian didn't have that.
The dark sky refused to lighten up, despite morning creeping closer. Withoutany motivation the man stared into the dark woods. Maybe he should just sit inhere until it was time to go again.
...
... As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't. There were still things left todo, he needed to check his emails. If there would be ANYTHING from the factorythat he neglected to acknowledge, he'd be out and dead again.
His endless stream of worries moved on.
Would the factory send someone to check on them?
As a Phone Guy he should know these things, but... nobody had bothered to mentionit beyond half a sentence, since nobody expected the restaurant to stay open aslong as it did. He himself especially.
What a horrible thought.
With great dismay he forced himself out of his car and walked towards his hometrying to figure out ways to get out of situations that could get him killed-basically anything and everything.
The air was cold... much more like spring than like summer and the wind was pickingup and it began to feel almost stormy. Hopefully there wasn't actually a stormcoming up... but a bit of rain would probably be relieving.
If the factory would come to inspect their place... he had followed all the guidelines and regulations. There was no way they could take him away on that basis.He had hired the red contract workers and even... created one more.
A muffled sound of pain came out of his head as he remembered that littlehorrible fact.
It wasn't even as if-
Click. Click. Click. CRACK.
Jumping around, he stared into the dark woods behind him.
Was something following him?
Or was it the wind breaking off branches?
Damn it, he could have sworn he heard clicking.
But that might as well had been his own head.
Darkness was the only thing staring back. Shadows moved around, as the treeswere shaken around by the elements.
At this point he would be thankful for going crazy. It would release him fromthis constant cycle of hope and fear that was taking over his life.
With a sudden spike of boldness he simply turned around and walked towards hisdoor again, ready to get mauled from behind and delighted when it didn'thappen.
One last time he turned to look around the place.
Nothing.
Maybe the constant stress was going to his head. Or his lack of a head.
Laughter bubbled out from his throat, an alien sensation among the constantshuddering.
Nothing wrong here, move along! Normal for Freddy's employees! FazbearEntertainment is not responsible for emotional and mental trauma!
They were made this way.
But why couldn't they at least try to act differently?
How could those two psychopaths sleep at night, knowing what they put theothers into this situation?
Did they feel NOTHING?
Questions the Phone probably never would get answers to, but the answer wouldprobably confuse him anyway.
Old Sport could feel.
It was just... distant.
He was always watching from the outside, looking in, seeing the others as...
Oh. Maybe he envied them. They passed by him, knowing what would happen,knowing there was always something to come back to, always something familiar.
For Old Sport it felt as if anything he touched disappeared under his fingers.
It was... sickening.
He was sick of Phone Guys. He was sick of ghosts.
They always said and did the same thing.
He didn't hate them.
They just didn't feel real anymore. More like a movie someone constantlyrewound.
Save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, saveus, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us,help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, helpus, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us, save us, help us-
Words barely had any meaning anymore.
But it still kept him up at night. Sometimes.
He walked around the home, a bit lost. It was nice, at least he still had newthings to find in here... it had become old to walk around his place and stare atthe same dirty spots on the wall again and again.
Now he was still staring at a wall, but at least it was a wall filled withthings to see. Pictures, probably a hundred of them, were placed all over it,they covered every last spot.
The other wall next to him looked similar, not that full, but still a goodamount. It were pictures of him and Dave, inside and outside the restaurant.Where and HOW he made those pictures was a damn mystery to him, but part of himsaid it would be a horrible idea to try and find out.
That wall didn't get as much attention from him, after all, he knew the sceneswell enough, he had been in each of them... except of course the ones of himsleeping, but... better not think about it.
No, the pictures on the other wall captured his interest much more.
Henry Miller.
The one and only.
He had only met him for less than a week. They all came together for thisevent, he, Fredbear, the Marionette, the ghosts... fucking loads of them. Allexceptionally angry.
Honestly, part of him believed it was sheer luck that they got him. They wereunder time pressure, having chosen the small frame of time where Williamtraveled to another location to... "take care of it" as Henry always put it.
One week.
Those pictures all showed them happy to some degree.
To some degree.
Henry's eyes never changed.
When he first met him properly, from face to face, he had been impressed withhow well the man kept it together. He sounded reasonable, patient and like... anormal human being. A bit arrogant, but only a hint.
While watching him he wondered how people didn't notice what was under thefaçade. Yes, he was great with his masks, seamlessly switching from persona topersona depending on what type of person he was talking to at the moment, buthis eyes...
When you managed to look into them long enough, you could see this cold, manicglee.
If he would have to describe the expression behind that darkness, then it wouldbe...
Being on the other side of a microscope.
The cold glass that moved closer when you began doing something "Interesting".
But admittedly it had something worryingly intense to be watched by him. Like adeer in a headlight, it made him freeze up, at least for a moment.
Yet... that was probably because he feared his plans to be noticed.
Thankfully, Henry wasn't the only good pretender.
The psychopath only finally realized that he had been a part of the plotagainst him when he stood in front of him, Fredbear and Marionette at his side.
Even then he didn't react human.
Oh yes, the "normal" almost primal anger was in there.
But deep down.
Glee.
Manic glee.
One day he would figure out what the man saw that made him this happy. Or if hesimply had snapped for a third time over.
That was just as likely.
Again his eyes wander along the wall of memories. Vegas, other places hecouldn't recognize, restaurants, some kind of facility with broken machinery inthe back...
But those eyes still stayed the same. Cold. Distant. Maybe pleased, but not...
There was this wall in there.
Maybe he actually was a demon with no connection for the real world.
One picture especially caught his interest, only because it looked actuallysilly. It showed Dave and Henry in a suit. Not a fursuit, an actual, formalsuit. Jesus, how did they get him into that?
It was cut a little.
Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him, making him squeakinvoluntarily. "Sportsy. Up that early, are ya?!"
"Uh... yeah..." A bit flustered he tried to free himself. Maybe distracting himwould be a good idea. "Hey, Dave- I've never seen you wear anything that isn'tpurple. What happened here?"
It worked, he was let go as the guy took the picture instead, laughing. "It wasHenry's wedding! I was the best man!"
"WHAT?!" It wasn't clear what he was more shocked about, the fact that HenryMARRIED or that he chose DAVE as best man.
"It sure did take a lot of begging and promises! And I had first show my speechto three people and get their approval! But damn... it was the best day I couldhave ever imagined!"
"That- Henry got a wife?!"
"Oh yeah... nice gal, I think? Never got to really meet her... he kept usseparated... boy, he got angry that one time I came by while he was away and sheoffered me tea in the kitchen! It wasn't even as if anything happened... but Igot to meet his kid then! Such a ball of sunshine! Could've pinched his cheekand throw him out of the window for that!"
"HE HAD A KID?"
"Yeah! Raphael... I think...? Well, not that it matters, he always told me Ishouldn't put my nose where it doesn't belong and that family and... we... werecompletely different things. Told me if I needed to know something, he'd sayso."
"What... happened to them?"
"No idea. His kid went missing I think? But not sure why and how... wasn't reallyworth it to get Henry angry to find out, I'd say."
"And you just... didn't care?"
"Well..." Uncomfortable Dave shifted around. "Was a bit too busy to marvel at hisnew machine! He made a nifty thing! I got to name it! I called it "thescooper"! Because it looked like one!"
"Scooper? Didn't Baby once mention that...?"
"Yeah! It's used to get the insides of robots out! No matter if dead kids ormachine parts! The scooper is a useful fuck! Nothing is worse than cleaningcorpses out of suits! Ah, no, I'll admit, there was that one time Freddyswallowed not only a gallon of soda, but then right after that put two frogsand a raccoon-"
"Can I see the scooper?" It somehow perked his interest.
"Well... yeah, I guess? But it just looks like a scooper, so..." Leading him downinto the underground portion of the home, they entered a fairly closed awayroom, not the only one here, that much Old Sport knew, but probably the largestone.
They walked past the outer portion and towards a large control panel, which hada giant window to stare into the round middle section, of which half wasoccupied by a giant machine.
"So... how does it work?" Interested he leaned forwards, a stupid idea slowlyseeping into his mind.
"What do ya mean?! I put a fucking shovel onto a mechanical arm, there ain'treally anything special about it."
"Didn't you just say Henry build it...?"
"Well... yeah, okay, Henry build the prototype, but... seemed to give up on it?Dunno, I guess it didn't work like he wanted it too...? So I took it over,reworked it a bit and voila! Robo-cleaner version 3!"
"Three?"
"I tried once before, with a lot of hoses and water pressure... made those poorfuckers explode!"
For a while Old Sport did nothing but staring. How can that man be one of thebest mechanics in the world, while also being an idiot that seemingly didn'tunderstand physics? Or did parts of his brain randomly go out of the windowwhen it came to certain ideas?
"Hey Dave. Wanna scoop me?"
"Excuse you, what-?"
"You heard me! Shouldn't be so hard, right?"
"Old Sport, are you feeling alright?"
"Come on, I've done worse things! I work in Springlock suits even if I don'thave to! I regularly piss off and lie to the Phone! And I kinda wanna know... howmuch of my can regenerate!"
"I- that's a bit excessive, don't you think? What if-"
"I can regenerate everything, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't walk aroundanymore, right?"
"Yeah, but..."
"I'll go in front of it! Just activate the scoop!"
"What has gotten into you?" There was some soft worry in his voice- they pulledsome crazy dumb shit together, but usually they weren't so... self-destructive...?Then again...
Old Sport had gotten into position and gave him a thumbs up.
"Is this in the name of science?" It was supposed to be a joke, but... his throatfelt dry.
Not that Old Sport could hear him anyway.
Hesitant he let his fingers wander over the buttons and for another moment hepaused.
Time became incredibly slow for a second... moment... while...?
Finally he forced his finger down.
The loud warning noise echoed through the facility and with one violentmovement the scooper moved forward going right through the soft flesh, takingout... everything...
Having been flung backwards, Old Sport crashed into the wall and fell down,unmoving. As fast as he possibly could, Dave rushed in, towards his friend, butbefore he could touch him, a shiver ran through the Orange Guy and he proceededto force himself upwards. "Motherfucker... I... almost forgot... what real... pain...feels like..."
"You doing okay there, buddy?"
"Ow, what the heck do you think?!" Sliding back down into a lying position, hisbreath was heavy and chaotic.
In the background was an almost sizzling noise, but Dave didn't pay it anymind. Instead he crouched down next to his partner, a curious expressionwandering over his face. "How does it feel?"
"Like I swallowed a sun made out of pain. I can FEEL MY INSIDES DESPITE NOTSUPPOSED TO."
"Is it better or worse than being springtrapped?"
Old Sport's glance could pulverize diamond, but still wasn't powerful enough tobreak through Dave's ignorance. After a moment he stopped wasting his energylike that. "Better. At least I have only one area that regrets being made outof physical matter and not my whole body... not to mention I can SCREAM."
"Did it get your lungs?"
"TRY IT YOURSELF YOU DICKHEAD INSTEAD OF ASKING ME THESE QUESTIONS."
"But Sportsy, I'm no masochist."
"DAVE IS SWEAR TO GOD- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" As Dave picked him up he screamed outin utter pain, his regenerating insides not feeling too happy about being movedaround.
"Ow, Sportsy, you're so light! Like a feather!" The man seemed delighted.
"JESUS CHRIST, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU LET ME DOWN LET ME DOWN LET ME DOWN-"
"Come on, I was carried around while springlocked, you'll survive!" At thispoint he had him in a position that was stable enough to let the pain slowlyebb off. They went over to the machine, in which organs slowly disintegratedinto a black mass, resulting in Old Sport making a somewhat victorious noise.
"I knew I still had that girl in me!"
"What?" A slightly worried tone. "What'cha talking about?"
"Uh... Ithink I accidently ate a soul at some point? Couldn't get that black stuff outof me for the life of me..."
"Sorry to disappoint but that is the same shit that happens to my organs aswell. Imagine my shock when I came up with the genius idea to sell my ownorgans and then realized I ain't able selling a pile of black goo."
"Well... dammit." Disappointed Orange Guy watched the black stuff drip down. "So...I'm not cured?"
"Depends? Cured of what?"
"I... not sure. I just never felt the same. But... then again, maybe I'm justimagining it..." Going even limber in Dave's arms, he stared at the ceiling."What did you say again the scooper was for?"
"Cleaning out the robots!"
"Wouldn't that destroy the half the robot?"
"Yeah, but... it LOOKS cool, right?! And it ain't as if there weren't twentyother things a day that breaks them... it's not that hard to put them backtogether."
Put them back together.
Just to be torn apart all over again.
But Old Sport refused to think about it. They couldn't make him!
Slowly he began feeling his body again and attempted to move at least his legsand arms. Worked... yeah. Worked. Not very well, but... what was there to expect?
"Hey Dave... this place is pretty roomy. What's all down here?" He casuallyasked, expecting nothing and everything at the same time.
"Oh... not quite sure myself, Sportsy! Wanna go explore?"
"Uh..." DID he want to go explore?!
Pros: Distraction from the endless void he felt instead of a soul, from all thebroken promises he had on his back and probably from the unstoppable waves ofpain still going through his body.
Cons: MORE UNSTOPPABLE PAIN AFTER WHATEVER DEMON FROM HELL MOST LIKELY LIVINGDOWN HERE CAME AFTER THEM, being incredibly dependent on Dave not suddenlycoming up with some stupid idea and forgetting about him, leaving him down herefor hours after putting him away and telling him "he'll be right back", notbeing able to actually do any of the stupid stuff himself and not really beingable to see that much from his position of the arms or back of his friend.
Better keep that for later. "... no."
"What?! What's wrong?!" Shocked Dave let him fall on the ground, making him cryout in pain.
"FOR GOD'S SAKE, DAVE—"
"ARE YOU FEELING OKAY?! YOU NEVER SAY NO TO A GOOD ROUND OF FUN!"
"MY ORGANS ARE CURRENTLY SLOWLY GROWING B-!"
"ARE YOU FEELING SICK?! WHAT IF THE SCOOPER HURT YOUR PERSONALITY?!"
"WHAT THE F-!"
"DON'T WORRY, I'LL PUT IT BACK!"
"NO! NO, DAVE, LISTEN TO ME YOU SON OF AN AUBERGINE-"
But already he had stepped over to the scooper and scooped a fair amount of theblack fluid into his hands, before suddenly stopping and staring at it. Lookingback to Old Sport, he slowly raised his hands.
"Oh LORD, DAVE, DON'T-" But at that point he fell back and resigned. Why notactually? Fuck it, it's not like it would do anything to him.
So he watched the guy lick the liquid. And then again. AND AGAIN.
"Better go easy, Davey Lecter. You don't know if it can, uh... have an effect."
"Only one way to find out!" Cheerful the guy licked it off his hands like itwas some form of cookie dough.
"It's been a while since I felt this sickened, but curious."
"AW, WANNA GET SOME TOO? I can take out a liver, no problem-"
"NO THANK YOU VERY MUCH, I HAD ENOUGH FOR TODAY."
"It isn't too bad, it actually taste like barely anything-"
"NO THANK YOU, I'M VERY HAPPY ABOUT THE SITUATION AT HAND." In the back of hishand he tried to note down to not take any food from Dave in the near future.
"What a pussy-pant you are, Sportsy!"
"Pussy... pant...?"
"Yeah! Be ashamed! The Old Sport that I USED to know would have downed thatliquid in one go!"
"Even I have standards, Dave."
"You've changed, Old Sport." His voice sounded almost ridiculously hurt.
"Dave, you really- You're... something else, aren't you?"
"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO IS SOMEONE ELSE NOW!" Hysterical Dave screamed.
"Dave. Dave. For god's sake, DAVE. Everything is FINE, I'm still your guy, Ijust... imagining eating my own organs isn't really... not my thing."
For a while Dave stayed insulted, then he stopped pouting and rubbed his handsoff to pick his Sportsy back up.
"We gotta go to work or Phoney is gonna castrate us with a rusty hacksaw thenext time we show our mugs there."
"At this point I think that might would be good for you."
"Why would ya even SAY that, Old Sport!" With that he carried him up and out,throwing his friend into the trunk of the car.
"Uh... since when do you have a- Dave, where did you take this from?"
"Can't remember, was probably drunk while getting it! LET'S GO BABY, BIG DICKDAVEY IS BACK ON THE STREET!"
"JESUS, JUST DON'T-" A few honks and crashes later they arrived at the park andto everybody's including the author's surprise Dave DIDN'T let the guy roast inthe back of his car while the sun shined down and heated it up to around 500degrees! Instead he picked him back out and walked in with him, being greetedby a distressed Phone Guy who was covered in feathers.
"Why are you carrying him?!" There wasn't actual worry in his voice, it wasmore of an accusing tone.
"Kinda scooped all his organs, now he has a hard time walking on his own." ShruggingDave smiled, Eggplants will be Eggplants, AM I RIGHT?!
"Can you still perform like that?"
"Sure?" He said it before Old Sport even had the change for a comeback.
"Good, good... then go and DO that!" Trying to get the feathers off of him, themanager stepped away, seemingly trying to work off a long list composed fromonly catastrophe after catastrophe.
Despite that impression, the day passed by almost accident-free and theaccident that happened, well...
DEAD MAN TELL NO TALES.
Anyway, free from the worry of incoming lawsuits, Phone Guy was free to ridehome semi-relaxed.
Walking again the way from the car towards his front door, this time the Phonenoted with delight that he didn't feel watched this time. No one... nothingseemed to follow him. So he had been going crazy! How delightful.
He could deal with becoming crazy, everyone seemed to do just fine without anycommon sense or reason. Actually, they seemed to all do BETTER than he everdid.
Silently he looked up into the last rays of sunshine reaching over thetreetops.
Yes... now that the weather was a bit brighter, he was back in reality. No moreshadows to hunt him. Quietly he stepped inside and locked the door.
No more shadows hunt.
Hunt.
Can't.
Light.
Too bright.
Disorienting.
Couldn't see.
Where?
Where are you?
You.
You sounds great.
There was something else than you, but you only remembered you.
There were more "you"s with you.
Hiding.
Look.
Another.
Someone else.
Else than you.
He knows things.
Looks at you.
Then outside.
Shadows and light change at all times.
Too bright. Too dark.
Can't leave yet.
He is still there.
You know.
Of course you know.
You hear his car.
Car.
Loud.
Alluring.
But it is too dark. Too bright.
Your body clicks and clacks.
Moving isn't so hard anymore.
Better.
Better.
Better.
You are lighter than you were before. You don't know why. Couldn't remember.
Lighter.
You didn't know where to go. None of you knew.
But one of you decided anyway.
Because he knew things.
He is the leader.
The other one left.
Gone?
Maybe.
No.
Not until the party.
Waiting.
Preparing the party.
But what for?
No matter.
Blood would help.
Would it?
Thinking was hard.
Watching wasn't.
He promised.
You remembered his voice.
Every night.
Hello, hello!
Get him.
Important.
Why?
Why not.
Trust him.
Trust him.
Follow me.
Where to?
Light was reflected into the small overgrown... cave? Could you call it a cave?
The mechanical eyes reflected the changing light shining through the leaves,trying to adjust to the constantly moving patterns of shadow and light. The weaksilver dots inside flickered around.
Freddy turned away from the entrance to inspect his group.
They were all horrible burned and broken, working mostly out of sheer will thanany actual functions. Gravity would probably tear them apart if they would loosentheir grip.
But they wouldn't. They were glued, attached, they probably wouldn't even beable to leave if they wanted to. Did they want to leave? Leave where? Leavewhat?
Leaving was important.
For sure.
Right?
They needed something. It was very important.
But he couldn't tell what, he couldn't REMEMBER-
What a pain.
Pain, pain, pain.
Sometimes he thought he could hear whispers. Unsure where from. So familiar. Soclose. Telling him what to do, before vanishing again, letting him instantly forgetwhat they said.
Again he looked at his crew. Chica constantly stared out. Bonnie sat slummedover, finally having stopped tearing cables from the burnt rest of his face.Foxy was scratching against a wall.
It was a horrible noise.
Freddy wanted to tell him to stop, but didn't know how to.
It was frustrating to be so helpless.
Quietly he growled.
Instantly all of them looked at him, focused.
Waiting for instructions.
He... he didn't have any.
They trusted him, of course they did. All of them vaguely remembered that theremight had been another leader at another time... but for now all they had washim. And there would be no forgiveness from his side, if he would fail.
He had a purpose, they all had a function. They were made, artificial, machinesand humans for the best that could be possible.
The best.
Nothing was good.
They were broken.
Wasn't someone supposed to care?
Supposed to care?
But nobody cares.
There was loneliness.
Deep, deep loneliness.
His crew could probably feel it too.
All they had were each other.
All THEY had was him.
And for that he had to function. Always function. Otherwise they would... theywould get taken away. Into a darkness even more lonely.
So tired.
So scared.
Nothing to do.
No answers.
But for now they were together.
And functioned.
They knew something was there.
They knew the man driving the car.
Recognized him in a sad way.
Made to function.
But they had a role to play. His blood on their fur.
Promised freedom.
They didn't make the rules.
Killing them was tiring.
And they played by the rules.
For a moment he stared at the slummed back bunny.
Not the first time.
This time worse.
Maybe there had been a time they could have talked.
They... and the others. The people staring at them with their empty or fearfuleyes.
Fear was fun.
At first he felt strong.
Better, better, much better.
No more crying, trashing around, screaming out in utter pain, begging, fleeingbut not getting anywhere, PAIN PAIN PLEASE STOP IT I DIDN'T MEAN TO-
Chica snapped him out of it. Her arm on his, pity in those empty holes.
No. No more pity. Pity was bad. But no more fear either. Fear was bad.
He wanted to go home.
No more home.
Needed to be strong.
Finally the last light vanished.
The game began.
He moved forward and the others followed.
Time to begin the night. 

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A/N: As always, I hope you enjoyed! Do tell me if the sudden P.O.V change was to crass.