#Puppet sorry I wrote this it's for Goretober I swear-

[deadpuppetboi]

Goretober Day 1: Shatter

Jeremy Fitzgerald was a calm young man.

He never loses his anger, always keeps his cool, and always tries to make the best of any circumstance.

But this 'situation' was unlike any he had previously experienced.

This was very different and much more demanding.

He knew what to do because he'd done it so many times before.

He looked over the cameras, flashed his flashlight, and wound the music box as quickly as he could. A night like this wasn't out of the ordinary, but it felt like he was being tested to the limit. He stumbled over his coordination, double-checked on the incorrect camera, and entirely missed the music box as a whole.

Jeremy embarrassed himself, and the more he battled to stay together, the worse his difficulties became.

It was just three o'clock in the morning when his flashlight failed. The plastic boy's laughter rang out like a hymn, teasing the young guy as he fumbled with the mask over his face. He clutched the mask as the familiar shape of a malformed bunny entered the office and gazed down at him. And when the lights flickered and Jeremy held his breath, the broken animal walked out, its cables flicking out sparks.

Jeremy paused for a while before removing the mask and reached forward to wind the music box. He flashed the lamp as rapidly as he could to gaze into the Prize Corner, preparing to patiently wind the box to keep the one animatronic at bay.

The light flooded the room, and a chilly sensation exploded from his chest and coursed through his entire body.

A faint ringing pierced his ears, drowning out the plastic boy's laughing, the flickering lights, the noises of a gigantic figure crawling through the vents, and so on. But one song had begun to play at a breakneck rate, the rhythm strange and out of place. Each note bounces from one spot to another, creating an imbalanced symphony of a tune with no rhyme or reason.

But Jeremy knew the reason.

He knew the reason pretty damn well.

He shifted awkwardly out of his seat, his heart in his throat, pins and needles on his skin, and all he could hear was the music. The music, which was once far and out of reach, is now getting closer with each passing second, as does the young man's imminent doom and his disoriented feelings. His emotions kept him out of place and caused him to screw up everything for this one night only.

Immediately, he thought of the other close calls he'd faced in the past working in this God-awful place.

The slice of a hook, the chomp of a broken lump of metal, the grip of a bear, and hallucinations of shadows growing and stalking his every move. The fear that had previously grabbed his mind then dived into other feelings he had previously experienced. All jumbled and twisted into knots until finally unraveling into loose strands of what sanity Jeremy had left within him.

And the rage had taken control.

And for a few seconds, his body reflexively grasped for the nearest thing closest to him.

The fan.

He yanked it out of its cord extension, moving erratically, and what was on the desk fell off. He took a deep breath and drew his arms back, his hold on the fan tightening as his vision became obscured by white and black. A loud shriek split the air, bringing the music to a halt as a thin figure in black and white leaped into view.

That's when Jeremy hurled the fan.

The fan's internals shattered and scattered the ground below as a result of the impact. The force repelled the figure, which collapsed to the ground in a heap. But before it could realize what had happened or whether it would be able to get back up in time, Jeremy had turned the now-broken fan on its head once more.

The Marionette's head swung back from the blow, and its body fell to the ground. It hardly had time to look at Jeremy before it was hit again, the fan breaking apart in an insignificant mix of metal and cables alike. Jeremy slipped, his foot striking the animatronic's leg in haste. And without thinking, he raised his foot and smacked it into The Puppet's leg.

The Puppet shrieked in agony, its long limbs thrashing around like leaves in the fierce wind.

"No," Jeremy shouted, raising his other foot and slamming it into The Puppet's chest. "You're not going to get up! Not right now!”

The Marionette growled, twisting its head to look at the security man before attempting to swipe its claws at him. He drew back just in time, his hands reaching back to grab something, and swung it at The Puppet. It recoiled and tried again to attack the guard, only to be smacked again, its mask cracking even more.

Before it burst into massive fractures, it was simply thin cracks that could be readily repaired with super glue. Pieces of the animatronic's mask began to fall apart, sliding off in sporadic bits onto the ground below. The Puppet shrieked again before falling back from another kick to the chest.

"I said don't get up!"

Jeremy raised the flashlight and threw it towards The Puppet, yelling at it to stop moving. No matter what move The Marionette made or how it tried to flee, the night guard continued to assault, his wrath swallowing him whole as he vented his rage.

“For the love of God, why couldn't you just stop?!”

He began to shout about what was going through his thoughts, ripping apart whatever he could get his hands on and tossing it down into The Puppet below him.

Too many times, this awful creature tormented his dreams with cryptic messages, nearly took him to the ER, and even lost him his paycheck if he tried to flee in the middle of the night. Too much stress accumulated over time, which could never, ever cease, until the young man eventually had enough and put his foot down.

Enough with this job, or these monsters, or these never-ending hours, or the terrible music, and so on.

This was going to end.

Once and for all.

The Marionette's words and actions had little effect on the guard's fury. Its body was disintegrating piece by piece, the clothing it was wearing were being ripped apart in haste, and its mask was disintegrating, revealing what was behind it. Its pleas were cut off immediately by Jeremy's shouting, the music it had previously created was now reduced to scant clicks and ticks.

Digging deep from within the oil flowed like blood and guts as The Marionette's insides were ripped apart. Jeremy felt the grease spray on him like water from the faucet, but he clenched his teeth and continued his assault. Cursing the Fazbear name and everything it stood for, whether it was through lies of fostering imagination and enjoyment or supporting the notion that everything was wonderful and dandy.

It wasn't.

It never was.

And it never will be.

Jeremy was a heaving, sweating mess by the time he was done.

He stooped over, his pounding palms on his knees, and stared over the wreckage in front of him. His rage-filled mind abruptly came to a halt, and all thoughts of tension and venting his rage on the one thing that may kill him vanished.

He inhaled deeply before exhaling with a stuttering gasp, his eyes widening.

He witnessed the wreckage of the items he used to beat The Marionette, the astonished expressions on the other animatronics' fake yet permanent faces, and the devastation he inflicted in what seemed like a matter of minutes. He then glanced down at his hands, bleeding and scarred hands, and eventually let the shock wear off to allow his nerves to come to fruition.

The night guard collapsed to his knees, the nauseating and stinky oil bathing his knees overwhelming his senses.

The Marionette in front of him lay still and entirely broken, unlikely to be repaired unless the company withheld his money for a whole month.

Jeremy closed his eyes and cursed.

Oh, he is so fired-