Chapter Text
Tony was desperate to uncover the mystery surrounding the elusive GGY - the muse to his latest story, the key that would unlock his inevitable future as a great journalist. He had spent too long restless but tonight would be the night, he was sure.
The air smelt musty and greasy, remnants of the days activities pungent in the stagnant surroundings of the Pizzaplex. Except for the echoing sound of Tony's cautious steps in the large room and the occasional soft, somber buzz of neon lights missed in the nightly shut down, the building was engulfed in silence. A thick, heavy silence that smothered Tony, slithering stickily down his esophagus into the pit of his stomach, choking him. It was much too late for a young boy like him to be out. Shivering in the cool, stale air, he pulled the green shirt he wore over his top further around himself for warmth and comfort, his other arm limp by his side, tightly clutching his trusty baseball bat. His slow, consistent creep across the checkered floor lead him to the faz-cade, a name that Tony detested but his closest friends pushed on him vehemently, accusing him of various unforgivable crimes such as 'spoiling the atmosphere' or 'ruining the fun'. More childish ideals that Tony couldn't stand. He didn't come to the pizzaplex to have fun, he came to investigate a murder! This was serious.
The machines inside the faz-cade were dead and lifeless; a husk of the magic of daytime that usually echoed in a cacophony of bleeps and alarms, interwoven in a bold tapestry of youthful joy. Under the glowing warmth of the spotlights, children are free to dream, to imagine. A colourful splattering of crowds, singing and dancing and playing. By day it was a place of hope. But now, the day was gone.
The metal was harsh and sharp. It dug into Tony's ribs as he squeezed between two machines, trying to avoid detection from the security cameras above in vain. As he pushed through, the force caused him to tumble forward slightly, jostling a game cabinet infront of him as he caught him self on it. It made a loud thud as the top of it banged against the wall. Tony's eyes widened and he flinched, frozen in shock. He heard a scrambling from another room. The cabinet blinked and hummed. Then it sparked to life. A piercing 8-bit tune, vaguely familiar to Tony, rung through the hallways. He could hear harsh, fast footsteps were approaching him. His adrenaline spiked and all he could do was run.
Making haste towards the nearest door, he nearly tripped over his own feet to grab the handle, slipping in. At a glance, he could tell he'd hid in a storage room for the out of use game machines. There was no other exit. He could hear it entering the arcade. The footsteps were now slower. Pattering. Soft. Gentle. Careful. Like how a bunny would approach something unknown to it. Tony's breath quickened. The scurrying outside the door stopped. Tony could feel his heart pounding, smashing against his rib cage, trying to break free from its prison of sinew and cartilidge. He could barely breathe. Clammy and trembling, his hands tightened around his bat, holding it up, preparing to defend himself, despite his internal insistence that he was simply imagining things. It could've been anything. A stray animal, a piece of machinery that had jolted awake... a security guard... GGY...
Desperately, he tried to shake the thought from his head as terror rose in the back of his throat like bile. His hair stood on end as the silence simmered. It drew out for far too long, till the ringing in his ears grew unbearably loud, and his muscles became sore with tension, before the door bust open with a slam, as something lunged at him and Tonys adrenaline spiked and-
Crack!
The noise was followed by a number of thuds as Tony smashed the bat harshly into the beings skull a few more times, and then a wet slap from the sound of heavy flesh hitting the bare concrete floor. Tony stood above the creature, watching it twitch limply on the floor. A dark, viscious liquid, that Tony assumed was oil until the iron smell settled firmly in his throat, stinging his nose, seeped in the cracks of the concrete by its head. Its limbs were pale and gangly in the dark and only its misshapen face could be made out. Big hollow eyes stared out from a speckled blue and brown face, etched with a permanent grin and two long oblong ears protruding from its head.
Tony just stared.
It was minutes until he could move, think, breathe, again.
Suddenly, his head was bursting with sharp, undulating thoughts. They scraped against his skull like nails on a chalkboard, making him feel sick to his stomach. Dropping his bat with a clunk, his eyes ran down the form of the figure, finally taking it in as more than just a blur. Most of the creatures body was covered by a long patchy coat that heaped around it but what could be seen of its skin looked damp with perspiration. Protruding from behind the "face" (which he now realised was simply a mask) were tufts of a familiar chocolatey shade of brown, as scruffy as ever. It felt soft and tickly against his fingers as he hesitantly reached out to pull up the mask, aching to deny his assumptions.
He nearly vomited at the sight of his closest friend, his eyes dazed and his flesh minced, almost unrecognisable under the thick coat of coagulating blood pooling in the cracks and hollows of Gregory's once whole skull. Shadows crept across smaller boys face, making it sharper than the round, softness it usually displayed and his eyes held a dying spark of something unfamiliar. He fell back, staring, frozen once more for a moment - a ghost of the image burning deep into his retinas - before he scrambled to his feet and fled.
Running until his lungs burned and his legs felt like they could no longer support his weight, his stomach churned forcing him to to finally fall forward, clutching to a wall as he doubled over and lost his dinner. His thoughts were spiralling, replaying that image in his head over and over and over. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar streets, frantically searching for something. Someone. He wasn't sure what he wanted to see, what he expected. There was no one. He stood as still as he could for what felt like hours, panting and heaving, in the dark, chilly night air. As reality set in, he could feel the burning behind his eyes grow stronger as his lashes dampened with frightened tears. Blinking rapidly, he desperately tried to push them back, feeling childish, until a wave of despair hits him and his body shudders with an angry sob, leaving him immobilised and alone in the murky street.