The night air was still. Cold. A mirror of the events about to take place.
Harry moved like a shadow through the narrow streets, Plushtrap keeping low beside him, their path traced by the hum of old streetlights and the occasional flicker of passing cars.
The first target—a predator who had grown too comfortable lurking near empty alleys—didn't even have time to scream. A quiet scuffle, a flash of silver, and the Remnant storage did its work, humming faintly as the man's body went still.
One down. Four to go.
Plushtrap wiped a streak of residue from the storage's outer casing with one clawed finger, humming under his nonexistent breath. "Nice and clean. Just how you like it."
Harry didn't answer, only adjusted his grip and moved on.
The second came just as easily. A woman with that same predatory gleam in her eyes—someone who hunted for fun. When her gaze met Harry's, she saw nothing human there. Only reflection. Only purpose. Her Remnant burned faintly silver as it was collected.
By the time they reached the drug dealers' side of town, the night was slipping toward dawn. The streets were quiet, the music and noise of the clubs gone still. Two of the dealers were alone, careless after a night's profit. Their extraction was slow, efficient. The third, well-guarded and loud, took a bit more planning. But noise didn't matter when there were no witnesses left to speak of it. They did not grab extra Remnant—they only had enough storage for the five.
When it was done, Harry and Plushtrap returned to the diner under the dying light of morning. The air was heavy with that strange static hum that always followed the use of Remnant. Harry could feel it pulsing through the storage's case, warm and alive, like liquid thought.
Inside Fredbear's, the world seemed to exhale. The flickering bulbs steadied. The hum softened.
Plushtrap set the injector on the worktable and hopped up beside it. "That's all five," he said, voice quieter than usual. "Plenty to work with."
Harry nodded, removing his gloves and setting them aside. His movements were slow, deliberate. "We take this part slower than before," he said. "The amount this time… it's too much to rush. It needs to settle."
Plushtrap tilted his head. "How long are we talking?"
"Five and a half months." The number came out cold and absolute, as if already decided. "Longer, if necessary."
The animatronic gave a mechanical hum of thought. "That's a long time to sit still."
Harry's violet eyes flicked toward him. "Stability is worth patience."
For a moment, silence filled the diner again—thick and steady, broken only by the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights. Then Plushtrap hopped down and started the last checks of the injector, his movements crisp and precise. He was careful this time—no miscalibrations, no uneven energy flow. Everything had to be perfect.
Harry sat on the metal cot in the center of the room, the faint scent of oil and ozone in the air. His hands rested on his knees, unmoving, as Plushtrap ran the final diagnostics. The small animatronic's voice came from somewhere near the machinery.
"All circuits stable. Injection sequence ready. You sure about this?"
Harry's tone didn't change. "Yes."
"Then let's begin."
The injector whined to life, faint vibrations running through the floor. The world around Harry began to dim at the edges, colors washing out to gray. He felt the Remnant surge—like something waking inside him—and then the dreamscape took hold.
When Harry's eyes opened again, he was sitting in the familiar office. The dull glow of monitors lit the space in shades of static blue and white. The air was thick with that same electronic hum, sharp and distant.
On the desk, Lolbit sat cross-legged, idly spinning a cable between their claws. Their eyes flickered from yellow to violet to white in quick succession. They looked bored—until they noticed him.
Lolbit's ears perked up instantly. "Well, look who finally crashed the party again!"
Harry said nothing, just watched.
A grin split across Lolbit's muzzle, jagged and bright. "You're getting better at showing up here. Maybe you're starting to think like us."
Harry's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied the flickering animatronic.
The screens behind Lolbit pulsed once, light rippling outward like a heartbeat. The hum deepened, surrounding them both, the walls flickering between metal and digital static.
Lolbit leaned forward, eyes gleaming with pixel-light. "Good," they whispered, voice layered with distortion. "Because now, things are going to get interesting."