Chapter Text
Getting in was easy, Gregory had found.
There’d been an abundance of people; the majority being kids, children. Some carried around plushies, confectionaries — and one of them was even holding a Fazer Blaster in their hands, waving it around and shooting at the ceiling like a lunatic while one of the security guards tried to tackle them down.
But everywhere he looked made him have to blink once or twice, the lambent lights assaulting his eyes with their not-so-dim colours. Made him wish for a pair of sunglasses — made him contemplate his chances of getting away with shoplifting a pair before that idea went down the drain the minute he spotted one too many of the security bots mandating the areas.
Too many witnesses, not enough escape routes for if he'd get caught.
Felt like he was drowning, sometimes, with each family that either passed him by or he passed them by. Felt like he was lying to himself, too. He’d watch the way that other kids would be picked up, watch them grudgingly accept the hand of their guardian, watch them smile and giggle, watch— he watched and watched watched watched .
Watched the things that he could only dream of, pretended even, that there was someone there with him, behind him. Only, when he looked over his shoulder, there’d be no one there; no hand being offered up to him, no one— no parent or guardian there with their arms spread, eagerly inviting him in. There’d be no one.
An hour in, and his eyes hurt. Was like looking into the sun without blinking when he looked at the walls, inadvertently spotting the neon lights outlining them like they were all grand empty canvases to be photo framed. Made him feel a bit silly when he realised that no one else seemed bothered by them, though.
He’d gotten a couple of odd looks sent his way; a handful of narrowed eyes from the security guards and a few concerned gazes from the adults that came in with their children as patrons. Caused him to get a little jittery and uneasy when he walked around, made him want to hide-run-flee.
In fact, he was about to hide-run-flee when he’d noticed one of the security guards (he’d much rather the animatronic ones) marching towards him; did when the man started reaching into his buckle or a pocket — heard the man yell for him, heard the following thumps of boots against the carpeted floor, heard the surprised yelps of children and parents alike when he’d jumped over the railing instead of using the stairs.
Caught the edge of the railing on the staircase to stutter the fall damage before dropping the rest of the way down, landing with a grunt and a glance skyward to see several heads poking out from above; one, in particular, that was holding a rather prominent scowl.
He’d made to initiate another dash when he’d seen the guard careening around the people that were blocking him from using the stairs, staggering with a silent hiss as a flurry of pain shot up his leg. Adrenaline sent him running, though, the stinging sensation becoming lost in the cloud of entropy coating his mind.
Could hear himself panting like one of those big stray dogs he’d seen on the streets a few times, could feel the rapid beat of his heart throbbing through every point of his body; his chest, his finger, his eyes. Made his throat clench with a sudden dryness that made his knees weak.
“You better stop running, boy! ”
Boy.
Boy.
It’s those words that send him bolting forth with the speed of a child high on sugar, those words that make him look over his shoulder and snarl at the guard that’s still hot on his feet. And it’s those words that make him turn around and charge — hurtling into the man’s stomach with a vigorous shove that sends the guard to the ground on his backside, and Gregory into the crowd.
He’d had to push his way through, batting away hands that came too close to touching him, diving through several pairs of legs that left openings wide enough for him to crawl through, doing his damn near best to evade those that were too stubborn to just move and let him through.
Heard, “Move, move! I’m trying to— look, I’m sorry , but I’m trying to catch— him! ” Turned around to see the crowd beginning to part a little, the security guard and another (a woman this time) pointing in his direction. “That— That’s him! Go ‘round in the crowd, Van, get him from the side or something.”
Felt a hand land on his shoulder, someone trying to nudge him towards the security guard. He pushed it off, he pushed everything and everyone off. Disregarded the others that began to call for him, shout at him; tried to bump his way around the crowd, the biting sting in his foot shooting up his leg coming back with a vengeance, making him falter and his lips tremble.
And then it’s like his senses are coming back to him again, the knowledge that he’s surrounded— surrounded by people— so many people — kicks him in the gut, makes the ringing in his ears intensify as everything else turns into static, an unearthly numbness spreading from his fingers and up to his arms, poisoning him from the inside.
He doesn’t notice the fog that’s beginning to roll into the fray of the crowd in gentle billows, the luminous streaks of laser beams shooting up into the air as the stage in front begins to light up even greater than the sun itself. He hears, if only briefly, the boisterous excitement of cheering and clapping before the intercom overhead sparks to life, the voice clear and easily enunciated throughout the rest of the mall.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls—”
Gregory felt more than seeing the other boy he’d pushed out of his way as he was running.
“—you to put your hands together—”
He should have stayed outside, he knew, just knew that he was going to get caught one way or another. Should have stayed on the streets, should have stayed on the streets! He shouldn’t have even dared to sneak in, shouldn’t have tried his luck on doing that in the first place, shouldn’t have gambled with it, shouldn’t have wanted to— to just be a kid for a single goddamn minute.
“—Freddy Fazbear!”
And then, he stopped, actually paused. Looked over the sea of heads, mops of hair that varied in style and pigment, knew that he probably looked like a prairie dog looking around in that moment but didn’t care — and he saw them — just as they appeared as in their posters, polished and positively shining under the spotlights.
The static was ripped away from his ears as if an entire wall had been torn asunder around them, the sounds— the music — everything returned. Cheering, applause, laughter . But the music overpowered all.
And for a moment, those bright brown eyes looked up with unbidden glee and child-like wonder. “Wow.” It was a reverent word, barely a breath, and there was a beat of silent awe before Gregory launched himself forward when something— someone — grabbed a hold of the back of his collar roughly, pulling him back before he could hit the floor in front of him.
‘Course, that didn’t stop him from falling flat on his backside instead.
“Bet you think you’re real clever,” the hand tugged him back again, and it’s with a jerk of his head that he realises that it’s the woman he’d seen before; emboldened emerald green glaring right back at him. She’s wearing the same uniform as the man was, the only difference being her penchant for purple nail polish. “Running away like that, think you’d get away that easy?”
No. No, he did not.
Makes him feel like a dog being grabbed at the back of his collar like it’s the scruff of his neck, makes it worse when the woman begins to haphazardly drag him across the floor while making a semi-noticeable path for them to pass through all the while voicing her grumblings over the musical performance being done at the stage.
“Let me go! ” It’s a vain attempt that might have been better used in just collecting himself and forcing himself to just go along with the woman, but he tries nonetheless. But all that earns him is a harsher treatment and a yelled “shut it!” from her. In comes Plan B, which mostly consisted of rebelling in the only other way he knew possible; thrashing, shrieking, and biting.
Biting the guard’s fingers inevitably checked out for him, the strangled squawk and long string of profanities that earned her more glares than considerate glances being enough of a distraction for Gregory to slip past through her grasp and into the animated crowd once more. He spat out the nail polish he’d tasted on his tongue before delving back in, shuffling through the swamp of people and kids and teenagers.
More than once did he look up at the stage and admired the animatronics in all their glory, eyes wide and jaw loosened. Squinted his eyes more often than not, stumbling over other people’s feet when he got too carried away.
“Mo— MOVE! Get out of my way—!”
Hands. A pair of them wrapped around his torso and lifted him up from the ground, and suddenly everything felt wrong. His feet kicked wildly into the air as he flailed his arms, a well-positioned swing slamming into something behind him with a crack. A muffled curse entered his ears and he screamed.
Screamed like he was being kidnapped, screamed like he’d been stabbed in the chest. Loud and ear-piercing to the point of where it made his own ears hurt. Opened his jaw real wide to get a good breath in through his lungs, and ripped out another one right into the woman’s ear.
Utterly ungodly, whatever that sound was. Was enough to override his programming, made him look over the crowd for the briefest of moments. Saw Chica, closest to him, frolicking in his peripheral vision, immersed in her own spirited performance. Paired with an alacritous focus that battled Roxy’s own, his optics ran over the crowd like water. But it was with a flash of red and a flicker of black later that had him hitting the ground harder than a dumbbell, the microphone he’d been holding rolling off the stage.
Unbalanced, was a word he’d use after repairs were done. Danger and Threat and Unknown??? would also come along in that order.
Last thing he’d seen was a distressed Chica hovering somewhere above him with her hands over her beak. Found it nice that she worried for him before everything faded out into black, the last residue of blinking red and the repeated phrase of DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! mellowing down into the silent abyss.