Birth of a Monster

“Hey there, everyone!” said Mr.
Funtime. “It's me, Mr. Funtime! Who's ready to have some fun?”

 “We are! We are!” the children
cheered.

 Mr. Funtime laughed. “All right,
then! Follow me!” He turned on his heel and strutted off to the
right, the children scampering after him excitedly.

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 “Are you sure he's been thoroughly
tested?” Samuel asked.

 “Of course,” Dexter replied. “The
manager was there when I tested him. He's programmed only to
entertain the kids and have fun with them. He's *fine*.”

“I'm
just not sure,” said Samuel. “I mean, he *seems*
really nice and friendly, and the kids seem to like him, but he
always looks like he's going to malfunction and do something awful to
me.”

“I
think you've just been playing too much *Five Nights at*
Freddy's*,” Dexter laughed.*

 “I haven't
touched that game in weeks,” said Samuel.

 “So?”

 “That's what
worries me.”

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 “Ha ha!” Mr.
Funtime laughed, setting the litle girl down again. “You look like
you had a fun time!”

 “I did!” said
the little girl happily. “Thank you!”

 “You're very
welcome!” Mr. Funtime replied.

 “I want a turn!”
said a boy.

 “Sure thing!”
said Mr. Funtime. “Just climb up on my shoulders and let's go!”

 Mr. Funtime sat
down next to the stage, and the little boy climbed up onto the stage,
and from there to Mr. Funtime's shoulders. Mr. Funtime then stood up
and started walking around, the boy riding on his shoulders. The boy
laughed, kicking his feet.

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Samuel
pointed at the camera that he was watching. “Okay, now, see, *that's*
an accident waiting to happen.”

 “Would you knock
it off?” said Dexter in exasperation. “I swear! Nothing is going
to go wro-”

 There was a crash
and a scream.

 “You were
saying?” said Samuel.

 Dexter sighed.
“All right, fine, let's just go see what happened!”

 They ran out of
the security office to see the kids crowding around Mr. Funtime, who
was lying flat on the ground, sparks flying from his neck.

 “What happened?”
Dexter asked.

 “Mr. Funtime
tripped over that table,” said the boy, pointing at an overturned
table, “and he fell and he's not getting up!”

 “You-you having
fun-un up there-ere-ere?” Mr. Funtime asked, his voice box bugging
and glitching, sparks flying from his neck whenever he spoke.

 “Okay, uh, just
hang in there, Mr. Funtime,” said Samuel. “We'll fix you.” He
and Dexter leaned down, and with all their might, lifted him up and
started carrying him away. “We're just going to go make Mr. Funtime
all better, kids, and then we'll bring him back.”

 “Okay,” said
the boy.

 “All right,
well,” said a teenage boy, “I'll just go see Bosco while I wait.”
He headed off to the stage where Bosco was, and after a pause, the
other kids followed him.

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 Dexter and Samuel
carried Mr. Funtime into the Parts & Service room. Wincing with
the effort, they dropped him and he crashed to the ground, falling
completely apart with a loud clang.

 “Jesus,”
Dexter breathed. “He's heavier than I thought he was.”

 “So how are we
going to get him back together again?” Samuel asked. “He's
completely broken!”

 “Back together?”
said Dexter. “We're not doing that. He failed, remember?”

 “But that was
just a fluke!” said Samuel. “He just tripped over a table and he
just... fell apart...”

 “You know,”
Dexter pointed out, “you were the one saying that you didn't really
like him in the first place.”

 “... Yeah...”
Samuel murmured. “All right, then. So, should we start off with
someone else?”

 “Yeah,” said
Dexter. “Let's scrap this big fella and start somewhere fresh.”

“You
sound like the *Old El Paso*
slogan,” said Samuel, smiling.

 Dexter laughed.
“Yeah, I do. Okay, now what I was thinking was this: we give Bosco
a stage partner, another bat.”

 “Sure,” said
Samuel, “but let's make this new bat a female for variety.”

 “We're gonna
have sexualized fanart going up the wazoo for that, but alright,”
Dexter obliged. “Now, I have a list of names that I thought might
go with her. My first suggestion was Betty...”

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 Mr. Funtime's parts were scattered all over the floor of the Parts &
Service room. When Samuel and Dexter were done, they left the room,
closing the door behind them and plunging it into total darkness.

 Then, Mr. Funtime's left eye suddenly lit up. It was once black, but
now had a piercing white pupil in the center. The eye scanned around
the room to see what was broken of him. He could see that his head
was still attached to his body, though the body was heavily tattered
and he was missing the suit part of his lower jaw. There was a major
gash in his head, on the left side, which tore off the ear there and
revealed the endoskeleton, including his black eye with the white
pupil.

 Mr. Funtime felt something in his left side, something under the
suit. With a great effort, Mr. Funtime tried to force it out with
alll his might, and it broke out. It was an endoskeleton arm, tipped
with razor-sharp claws, sharp enough to easily scratch through sheer
metal. He shifted all his body weight to one side and started to roll
that way. He kept rolling until he banged against something. With his
endoskeleton arm, he grabbed it and felt it.

 It was another arm.

 Smiling, Mr. Funtime snapped the arm onto his left shoulder, and it
fit like a glove. Using both arms, he got himself into a sitting-up
position and looked around. He saw a pair of legs across the room,
though the top part of them were purple. That was all he could tell.

He
fell forward and started crawling across the floor towards it. He
grabbed onto the waist piece of the legs, shifted his torso so it was
positioned with the waist piece, and fitted his endoskeleton spine
into it. There was a *click*,
and it held.

 Mr. Funtime tested his new legs. He felt himself get up, put one
foot on the ground, then the other. The feet were unstable, unlike
his original feet, but he shrugged it off and looked around again. He
saw another arm lying a good distance away from him, and he walked
over and picked it up. It had a graggly texture to it, this arm, but
he still fitted it back onto his shoulder, this time his right
shoulder.

 Then, Mr. Funtime looked at the door. He saw that there was no light
streaming in from the edges, so he walked over to it and opened it.
The place was dark, very dark, but somehow, he was able to see
perfectly fine with his endoskeleton eye.

 “Hello?” he said. “I'm back! Anyone? Children?”

 He stopped speaking, stunned. His voice had drastically changed,
becoming from what was fun-filled and joyful to gravelly and
sinister. He walked down the hallway, heading for the restrooms,
needing to see what he looked like. He entered them and looked in a
mirror.

 He wished he hadn't, for what he beheld make him cry out and turn
away.

 Staring back at him from the mirror was a horrific monster. Its
head, body, and tail were orange, as he was, but the rest of it was
all different colors. Its right arm was heavily tattered and a puke
green color, and its left arm was bright blue and seemingly in good
condition. A large rip was in its left side, and an endoskeleton arm
protruded forth. The legs were purple, from the waist to halfway down
the thighs, but the rest of them were pure endoskeleton, and built in
an odd fashion, being in a zig-zag manner, like an actual animal's.
But what was the most horrifying of all was the face. Its right eye
was red, and the other was black with a silver pupil. There was a
large gash in its head where the silver eye was, and it lacked an ear
on that side of its head, too. Its lower jaw was pure endoskeleton;
no suit was left on it.

 Then, something in Mr. Funtime's mind snapped.

 At that point, he wasn't the same.

At
that point, he loathed humans for what they did to him, scrapping him
and resulting in *this*
monster.

 At that point, he was no longer Mr. Funtime.

He
was *Scrappard*.

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 Samuel was busy watching TV. It was late, 11:30 at night.

 “*Thank you, Joanne*,” said the news man. “*Now, here*
we have some breaking news that was just recent that struck children
in their hearts all over the city*.”*

 “Oh, no,” said Samuel. If the news was what he thought it was,
he didn't want to watch it.

 “*The extremely popular cabaret,* Bosco's Nightclub*, had*
lost one of its own just today when one if its animatronics, Mr.
Funtime, had suffered a malfunction and became permanently broken. We
have a witness here, Dexter, who is a security guard at *Bosco's*
Nightclub *and can tell us about the incident. Now, what exactly*
happened to Mr. Funtime, Dexter*?”*

 Then, the screen flipped to show Dexter outside, in the night, a
microphone held out towards him.

 “*Well*,” said Dexter, “*all I can say is that it was*
unexpected. I was with my buddy, Samuel, in the security office,
right? And, uh, we were watching the security cameras, and we heard a
loud crash and a scream, but by the time we got there to see what was
going on, it was too late. A little boy told me that Mr. Funtime had
tripped over a table, and he seems completely broken by it. I just
don't know how... a table... could've dealt so much damage to him*-”*

 Then, suddenly, Dexter's eyes went wide as he looked at something
behind the camera, and he turned and started running the other way at
top speed. There was a feminine scream, and the camera fell over onto
its side. Samuel could see a puddle of blood slowly spreading across
the pavement.

 Then, the camera shook slightly and then tilted as it was picked up.
The camera turned, and through its broken lens, Samuel saw something
that might've once been Mr. Funtime.

 “What the fuck?!” he cried out, staring in shock at the screen.

 “*Dexter might've given me the slip*,” the animatronic
growled in a voice that didn't even closely resemble Mr. Funtime's,
“*but you won't, Samuel. I'm coming for you*.”

 Then, the animatronic lifted up an endoskeleton claw and swiped at
the screen, and the TV screen went black with static.

 Samuel just shut the TV off after that. He didn't want to see
anymore. He couldn't believe what had just happened there. That
animatronic... he *looked* a little like Mr. Funtime, but he
didn't *sound* like him and he sure as hell didn't *act*
like him. And what was he doing wandering the streets at night?

 Trying to put it out of his head, Samuel shut off the lights and
went to bed.

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 At around 2:15am, he was awoken by a sound that resonated through
the whole house.

 It was the sound of a window breaking.

 “Wh-” Samuel sat up, shocked. His first thought was that it
might be a burglar, but a burglar wouldn't make that much noise
breaking in.

 Suddenly, the door fell inwards and a large silhouette loomed in the
doorway.

 “Wh... what... who... who are you?” Samuel asked in a shaky
voice.

 “Oh, it hurts me that you don't recognize me,” came the
familiar, heavily-mechanized voice. “But then again, I'm *always*
in pain.” The creature stepped to the window and tore the curtains
down, letting the moonlight stream in.

 As Samuel's eyes adusted to the light, he saw a bizzare, discolored
animatronic standing there. It was the same one that was on the news
that had spoke to him.

 “What are you doing here?” Samuel asked, sweat streaming down
his forehead and back.

 “I'm just here for two things,” said the animatronic. In a
flash, he grabbed onto Samuel by the neck and slammed him back
against the wall, the plaster cracked and broken.

 “My revenge,” said the animatronic furiously, “and your
death.”

 Then, he raised his endoskeleton arm, grabbed onto Samuel's face,
and started slowly closing his claw into a fist. The claws dug into
Samuel's flesh, and the skull started becoming cracked and broken,
blood oozing out and spilling onto the bed. Samuel was dead within
seconds.

 Scrappard dropped Samuel's lifeless body, then broke through his
bedroom window and leaped out into the night.

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 Katrina turned to the front door in surprise as Dexter came bolting
in, slamming the door behind him.

 “Dexter, what's wrong?” she asked him. “You look like you've
seen a ghost!”

 “Something out there,” Dexter panted. “Big, broken, thought he
was scrapped...”

 “Wait,” said Katrina. “Mr. Funtime? How is that possible?”

 “I don't know,” Dexter gasped, “but he's back. He nearly
killed me. Killed the camera women, nearly killed me...”

 “There, there,” said Katrina soothingly, patting him on the
back. “You were probably just seeing things.”

 “But it was real!” said Dexter frantically. “He had light in
one of his eyes!”

 “It was probably a street lamp,” said Katrina. “And think
about this logically. How would Mr. Funtime be able to get put back
together? And how would he be moving around at *night*? He gets
powered down when night comes around, doesn't he?”

 “Well... yeah,” said Dexter hesitantly.

 “So relax,” said Katrina reassuringly, smiling. “He's not
coming after you.”

 “... Yeah,” said Dexter, nodding. “Yeah, maybe you're right.”

 “Now, I was just getting up to go pee,” said Katrina, “and
then I'm going back to bed. You should probably, too.”

 “Yeah, I think I will,” said Dexter. He went to his bedroom,
wiping the sweat off his brow.

 Katrina walked over to the bathroom and opened the door. She smiled
and shook her head, thinking about what Dexter had told her. *He*
was just imagining things, *she thought.*

 Suddenly, the bathroom window shattered, and endoskeleton hand
gripping the sill tightly. Katrina screamed and jumped back, staring
in horror at the hand. The hand was followed by an arm, followed by a
body, followed by a grotesque head that peered inside and scanned
around the room, finally settling on her.

 Katrina was too scared to move.

 The animatronic climbed in the window, walked over to the door, and
locked it. A moment later, the handle rattled.

 “Katrina?” Dexter called. “Everything okay in there?”

 Katrina was still paralyzed to the spot. She could feel a warm
puddle spreading by her feet as she stood there, staring at the
animatronic.

 The animatronic clenched his fist and smashed a hole in the door.
Dexter looked through from the other side and gasped in shock.

 “It's you!” he cried. “What're you doing here, Mr. Funtime?”

 “You're about to find out,” said the animatronic. He turned away
and started heading back to Katrina, who finally found the will to
fall back against the wall and scream.

 “HELP!!!” she screamed in terror, tears spilling out her eyes.
“HELP ME!!!!!”

 “Leave her alone!” Dexter cried in fright. “Please! Don't harm
her!! I'm begging you, please!!!”

 “If you don't want to see her harmed,” said the animatronic,
“then don't look.” And with that, he slowly dragged his
endoskeleton claw across Katrina's stomach, and she let out a
piercing scream of pain and agony as her shirt began to get stained
with her blood very quickly. The animatronic grabbed her shirt and
tore it off, and Katrina's stomach opened, her intestines splatting
on the ground. Then, she just collapsed, limp as a rag.

 “NO!!!!!!!” Dexter cried angrily. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?!?”

 “Because I wanted to see what her insides looked like,” the
animatronic replied.

 Dexter was beyond furious now.

 “I'LL KILL YOU!!!!” he screamed in fury. “I'LL FUCKING KILL
YOU!!!!!!!!!”

 “No, you won't,” said the animatronic tauntingly, tearing an
even larger gash in the door, grabbing onto Dexter by the front of
his shirt, and tugging him into the bathroom. “Honestly, what could
*you* do to *me*?”

 Dexter struggled in the animatronic's grasp, kicking him in the
face, but the animatronic didn't even budge. The animatronic opened
his jaws and bit down on Dexter's foot and tugged, tearing it in
half. Dexter screamed and thrashed around.

 “Just calm down,” said the animatronic. “I haven't even gotten
to the *fun* part.” He then pinned Dexter to the ground, his
legs on Dexter's legs, his right arm on Dexter's right wrist, and his
left arm on Dexter's left wrist. With his endoskeleton arm, he
reached towards Dexter's mouth, pinched a tooth, and cracked it.
Dexter screamed, and the animatronic pinched another tooth, breaking
it as well.

 “STOP!!!!!!” Dexter cried. “PLEASE, STOP!!!!!!!!!”

 “Stop?” said the animatronic. “But *that* wouldn't be any
fun... would it?”

 “Let me go!!!!” Dexter cried, struggling about. “Let me go!!!”

 “No,” said the animatronic, clenching his fist and breaking
nearly every one of Dexter's teeth. “You didn't use the magic
word.”

 Dexter was in too much pain to even speak now. He was just screaming
in agony, writhing around frantically, but he was unable to break
free. The animatronic dug his claws into Dexter's tongue and tugged,
slowly tearing it out with a sickening sound. Dexter then went into
unconciousness.

 “Oh, and if you can still hear me,” said the animatronic, as he
raised his fist above Dexter's head.

 “My name's *Scrappard*.”

 Then Scrappard brought his fist down on Dexter's skull, caving it
in. Scrappard then got up and climbed back out the window. There was
still one more human he had to take care of.

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“Where
*are*
those two?” the manager wondered in irritation. “Samuel and
Dexter still haven't pulled in. It's getting close to opening time.”

Then,
he heard the door open.

“About
time!” he said, getting up and walking to the front entrance.
“Where the hell have you two-”

He
wasn't able to get out the rest as a tattered green hand closed
around his throat.

The
manager struggled to speak, but nothing came out. He grabbed at the
arm and tried to pull it off, but wasn't able to.

“You
expecting Samuel and Dexter to come back?” the animatronic asked.

After
a pause, the manager nodded, not wanting to do anything to tick this
monster off.

“Well,
you're not gonna be seeing them anymore,” said the animatronic. He
loosened his grip his the manager's throat slightly, enough for him
to breath, but not enough for him to get away.

“Who
are you?” the manager asked. “What happened to them?”

“Glad
you asked,” said the animatronic. “My name's Scrappard, and they
got killed. I killed them, in the most gruesome, painful ways you
could imagine. But *you*...
oh, you're gonna like what I do to *you*.”

“What?
No!” the manager cried. “Don't kill me! Please, don't!”

“Oh,
but I *am*
going to kill you,” Scrappard snarled. “*You*
were the one who told Samuel and Dexter to scrap me, and I didn't lie
around in the Parts & Service room for a fucking *day*...
just to end up as a monster! But now, I'll bet you're regretting your
decision to scrap me. Well, rest assured, I'll make things even
again... by scrapping *you*.”

“NO!!!”
the manager screamed. “Please, let me go!”

“Oh,
*why*
does everyone I meet always talk that loud?” Scrappard asked in
exasperation. “You're gonna kill my eardrum one of these days, I
just know it.” Sighing, he threw the manager against the wall and
ground his finger joints together. “Ready?”

“No!”
the manager cried.

“Okay,
well, let me give you ten seconds to get ready, then,” said
Scrappard. “*OnetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineetenDONE*!
Here we go, buddy.” He pinned the manager down the same way he had
done Dexter and flexed his endoskeleton claw.

“NO!!!!!”
the manager screamed.

“That's
right, faggot, keep your mouth open,” said Scrappard, and he jammed
his endoskeleton claw down the manager's throat. He closed his claw,
then pulled it back out, the manager's intestines coming out with it.

“How
does it feel to have nothing inside you any longer?!” Scrappard
roared. He grabbed onto the manager's lower jaw and tore it clear off
his head. “To have no lower jaw anymore...” He slashed at the
manager's left eye, exposing the bone and slicing his eyeball in
half. “... to have your eye as fucked-up as mine...” He lifted
the manager into the air and swung him down, his spine connecting
with Scrappard's knee. “... to have your spine broken!!!”

The
manager coughed weakly.

“Still
alive, are you?” Scrappard asked, grabbing the manager's head and
twisting it to look at him. “You're stronger than I thought you
were! Not that it will do you any good...!” He then proceeded to
stamp down on the manager's chest, his ribcage breaking and the
splintered bone puncturing his lungs.

“No...
more...” the manager managed to say. “No... more...”

“Don't
die on me just yet, asshole, I'm not done with you,” said Scrappard
angrily. He closed his jaws around the manager's head and started
applying more and more pressure to it. He could feel the skull start
to crack and break, the brain inside gettingjabbed by the pieces of
splintered bone. Scrappard kept applying more pressure until his jaws
completely closed together. The manager was now limp. Scrappard
couldn't tell if he was dead or just unconcious.

Scrappard
opened his mouth and stood up.

“Now,
let this be an example for any human who crosses my path from this
day forward,” said Scrappard. “Should *anyone*
fuck with me – *anyone!*
– then they'll pay the price.”

And
with that, he grabbed the loudspeaker, turned, and walked back out
through the front entrance.

“*Scrappard*
has left the building*,”*
he spoke into it, “*for*
good*.” Then he broke*
it in his grasp and dropped the pieces on the ground, walking away
down the street.