#And to anyone wondering about old Willy he is the designated Punching bag of this AU. Have fun

[kingtrash-fox]

Here’s the prologue to the C&C Spiritual Inc Au (Official name)

Enjoy I guess

Boredom.

The feeling was…New in a way? She knew what the emotion was and obviously remembers being bored while she was alive what with playing with the same few toys as a kid waiting for something to happen.

And to say something happened is the understatement of the century. Upon her death the last one at that damned restaurant locked away in a suit she couldn’t move in. And for many years she laid and rot. At the very least she wasn’t alone. The son of her killer, Mr. Afton, was a scared alone child seemingly alone in there far longer than she was. It wasn’t until an event that the others called “The Happiest Day” was he finally able to move on. She stayed behind of course to keep tabs on William who refused to die.

“I wonder how he’s doing up there?” she pondered to herself watching her killer be torn to pieces for the 7,846,230th time.

“Can they see the world down here? I feel like they should especially how high they are.” She shifted a bit. “But could they see what I’ve done? Especially to Afton? Maybe…”

Silence fell not including the “animatronics” shuffling around and the screams from Afton. She pondered this feeling more. Perhaps not boredom but rather a yearning need to be…More. More than the spirit that kept a great evil contained. More than a hidden savior of the Pizzaplex. More than the Princess of the Game tearing apart the glitch with her golden bla-

“CASSIDY CAN YOU PLEASE OUT A NOISE DAMPENER ON HIS ROOM IM TRYING TO FISH!” She froze before realizing it was her…

“Guardian? Roommate? Parental Figure? Landlord? What can I call this guy outside of Mr Consequences? Eh I’ll figure it out later, for now I better mute the bastard.” With a wave of her arm in her spiritual form William quieted before going silent still screaming for Mike, Henry, hell even the devil to come and relieve him of this prison. “I should see if the old man wants some company”, she said turning to the red woods, the domain of the crocodile, “we could honestly both use it”.

The red woods or more known as the 4th Layer laid the home and lake of the mysterious creature known as Old Man Consequences. She found this world while harnessed to the husk that was her killer, in a game that the greedy executives at Fazbear Industries made called FNAF World for honestly for the sake of money but also a gateway. A gateway for things beyond mortal reach to make a connection and that day she looked within the digital code and went deep.

Their conversation was short but simple. All he asked was for her to rest to end this hunt but he could not convince her. Instead simply waiting for another chance . And upon Afton’s death and the beginning of the torment he contacted her again saying she should rest her souls for there would be nothing else.

And that’s when the virus struck infecting minds made with bits and pieces of Aftons husk, forcing the pair to act putting themselves into the Princess quest Games to find the source and eliminate all traces of the glitch. After that the pair came to an understanding and a realization. Even in death the monster would find a way to torment the land of the living. For fear of unleashing this evil unto hell the old man stopped trying to make her rest her soul but chose to keep an eye on her as a guardian of sorts.

She approached him at the docks slightly confused. “I’ve been here for a few years now why are the fish fleeing up now?” She looked towards the glowing lake in fascination

“Well at first it was just 50 entities, a ghost girl, and a horrible man, and with one search on the internet you have at least a small army of robots tormenting him from now till eternity” -Applying new bait to his hook he continued- “So excuse the fish for having to panic.”

“Well at last he’s silent…I wanted to ask you something” Sitting down she popped the question “I’m happy that Afton gets to suffer and that he can’t hurt anyone-but i feel like I should be doing more.” she began, “Like I can feel so much torment and fear going around and I could easily be doing more…do you think I should? Like what Charlie did with us but even more?”

Moments passed, with Cassidy wondering if she overstepped. What the pair had was good keeping him all locked up in this limbo occasionally fishing together in this lake. Maybe she should forget about it and go back to the torment nexus she made for one of the worst fathers in history. It’s what she chose after all!

As her mind whirled around with nerves the old man spoke up. “Well I don’t see anything wrong with that idea. No one has came for us holding Afton here yet and Charlie did keep the souls alive for years in the suits. You going around doing the same, hell we could even possibly classify this as “Guardian Angel” buisness. At the moment sky’s the limit” He reeled in a large tuna still wriggling. “Ooh rare fellow gonna eat well for a bit.” He got up taking the oversized fish with him. Cassidy followed hoping to continue this discussion with a sense of relief that he was onboard with this decision.

Upon reaching his cabin Cassidy was ready to explain this course of action. Her plan is she would search for locations with souls in pain or just general agony and she would find the person responsible or at least leave it better than when she found it. And the old man agreed…all except for one part.

“your gonna charge them?!” ,The croc exclaimed as he was chopping up the tuna, “You’re a ghost what would you need money for!?”

“Firstly I’m not gonna charge them money. I’m gonna request I siphon away some of the agony of the location to enhance the William Torture Nexus and give him no chance of escape.” She said it as if it was a completely normal sentence. As the ole croc kept staring she continued to explain. “And second I can’t really call myself a “Guardian Angel” cause I sure as hell ain’t getting into heaven cause of..” she waved her arm and the sound of William screaming filled the air, “That. Plus I feel like if I’m clearing the fury of other damned souls I better get some damn compensation!” She waved her arm again and William went silent again. After a pause she asked, “On a related note has William been getting louder?” ,she wasn’t particularly concerned for William’s sanity but concerned that Consequences would struggle to fish after the other conversation.

“Eh I’m used to it getting louder but he is really giving his lungs the works.” He threw a bit of tuna in his mouth as he spoke. “Heesh mosht likely ish starting to louse it”

Cassidy got a bit annoyed. “Can you maybe swallow please?” *gulp* “Thanks. Btw you’re still drooling a bit” she pointed to his scarlet maw and the small waterfall of spittle on it

Wiping off the drool (It was very good tuna even raw) he continued the original point at hand. “Still it feels selfish asking people to hand over anything for clearing out spiritual problems.”

“There are Tv shows dedicated to people hunting ‘ghosts’.” ,she replied rolling her eyes, “at least I’d be solving it for cheap, and hey sometimes agony can come from just a soul crushing work place. 2 in 1 Stress relief spiritual aid service! It’s brilliant!”

The crocodile could see a change in mood. Clearly she was thinking about this for much longer than he thought. However he was glad that Cassidy seemed passionate about this absurd plan. But hey anything to keep Afton locked up could be useful. In fact…

Making up his mind he asked his own question,“Why don’t I help? You have the Power to contain them and I have knowledge of many ghosts and such we could make spiritual bank. That is if you want help of course? I mean you are such a powerful spirit you might not even need my-“

“Heck yea!” Cassidy said with a gleam in her eye

The lizard smiled glad that he could help with this ambition of hers. There was one more question to ask.

Thankfully Cassidy brought it up, “If you’re wondering no this little ‘business’ doesn’t have a name yet though I got a few ideas” she said pulling out a list.

“Lay them on me”

The pair spent an hour sorting through names, Cassidy wanted some more comedic names as they weren’t exactly gonna be an actual business at least the kind that makes money, while Consequences kept arguing they should at least seem professional otherwise they might be found out of being ghosts (or a Spirit in the case of Consequences) themselves.

“So what you’re saying is we need something catchy yet professional?” Cassidy said peeling through the list for a name she thinks is perfect, “Cause if sooooooo,ah here we are”.

She pointed to a name towards the very bottom of this list above Bear and Croc spirit fighters and below The Spirit Men.

“What about this one?”

The old gator looked it over debating with himself. “This…will do.”, He nodded “I think we are gonna have a lot of fun with this Cass.”

“…same. Well we should make a few things to make ourselves look professional at least…”

They walked away from the table leaving the list…light shone on the chosen name u seen by the pair almost like a change in humanity was made.

C&C Spiritual Inc. is now open for buisness!

Huh better than usual

I’m gonna assume this is the permission to continue the AU I was Talking about.

at a later date maybe in like a few days I’ll write a story and start posting it here.

I’m kinda excited.

I’ll just start with the idea I mentioned with the Smiling Critters Cartoon thing. If anyone wants to help feel free to Message me on here

[words-and-seeds]

Black Widow AU 1/?

So, I was watching one of those old noir films, where the wife kills her husband and the unsuspecting private investigator gets pulled into the black widow’s web, and it gave me the idea for a Jacob/April AU. Only instead of a PI, Jacob is the homicide detective on the case.

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall chapter one

word count: 2,535

Tick. 

Tick.

Tick. 

The ticking clock was the only sound in the otherwise silent house, and it was sawing across Jacob’s last nerve. 

It wasn’t just the fact that he had been dragged out of a nice warm bed only two hours after he’d crawled into it. It wasn’t that his partner was looking bright eyed and bushy tailed - even though Jacob knew for a fact that Eli was running on as much sleep as he was - it wasn’t even the watery black coffee that had gone cold in his hand during their walkthrough. 

It was the whole house. 

It was a nice house. Huge. Something he’d never be able to afford on a cop’s salary, even if he saved for the next sixty years. It looked like the kind of house Johnny would be looking to buy the minute he made senior partner. Something that would impress all the other senior partners at the firm. High ceilings, more windows than wall space, and all glass and glossy antiques. It was sparkling clean and obviously well maintained, but there was a vibe that Jacob didn’t like. 

A discordant note in the symphony that the surroundings were trying to suggest. 

That, Jacob thought, might have had something to do with the portrait sitting above the mantel in the living room. It was large, stretching from floor to ceiling, and showed the perfect family. Five people, all perfectly turned out, with nary a flyaway hair, in perfectly pressed clothing, with perfectly straight white teeth on display in big smiles. 

It gave Jacob the willies. 

There was no such thing as the perfect family. If his childhood and formative years hadn’t taught him that, then his years on the force certainly had. 

“It’s like something out of The Stepford Wives,” Eli said, stepping up to stand beside him. “Creepy.”

Jacob only nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off the portrait. There was something there. Something that set all his instincts on edge, but nothing that he could put his finger on. 

“Why are we here, Eli? So some rich asshole bites it in bed on a weekend. We’re homicide detectives. He probably just had a lousy ticker,” Jacob said, with more than a little bite in his voice. 

His partner of the last twelve years only levelled a look at him. “The M.E. says it’s suspicious. A healthy athletic man in the prime of his life with no history of medical problems pops his clogs in bed on the one weekend - the neighbors say - that the wife and kids are out of town.”

“Coincidence,” Jacob sneered. “Or he was getting it on with his tennis instructor while the wife was away and overexerted himself.”

“It’s pilates instructors with the yuppie types these days, Jake. You’re behind the times.” Eli raised his hand to wave off the objection. “In any case, it’s going down as suspicious until the medical examiner completes the autopsy. That’s why we’re here.”

Jacob sighed, then turned back to the portrait. “Has anyone actually told the wife yet?”

“Yeah, and let me tell you, that lady is cold as ice, man. When we broke the news, there was nothing. No tears, no questions, just a ‘I’ll be home shortly.’” He shrugged and turned a grin on Jacob. “I’ll bet you fifty bucks that she did it. Probably for the money. It’s always the spouse.”

Jacob felt the temperature in the room plummet and his gaze was drawn over Eli’s shoulder to the woman standing in the doorway, watching the two of them. Even as his partner murmured, “oh shit” and hurriedly turned to face her, she continued to stare. 

Those ice blue eyes packed a punch. It didn’t help that they were in a face designed to steal his breath and haunt his dreams. 

When no one spoke, one of those perfectly arched brows winged up, and it was then that Jacob’s eyes were drawn to the bags underneath them, and the creases at the corners of her mouth and eyes. 

“Actually, Detective, the only money brought to this marriage is mine. Henry was much better at spending money than earning it.” 

Eli flushed darkly, but he still fumbled his ID from his pocket and held it out for her inspection. “April Gannon, I presume? I’m Detective Palmer, ma’am. This is Lieutenant Seed. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Seed?” she asked, with the barest upturn tilt of her lips, as she held her hand out for his ID. She examined both and handed them back. He could almost read the thoughts bouncing around her head. With his long hair and beard, Eli looked like he would be more comfortable leading a biker gang than busting one. 

On the other hand, Jacob held no illusions about his looks or demeanor. His time in the army had been the perfect training for the police force, and he had discovered an inherent skill for police work. He had a talent for compartmentalizing, and he was terrifyingly patient. He was well aware that his colleagues referred to him as The Soldier -  he knew he was respected by most, and feared by some - but emotion had no place in the job. 

“Why are you in my house? I was led to believe my husband had some kind of cardiac episode.”

Jacob glanced at his partner, content to let Eli take the lead. He was much better at slipping into the good cop role than Jacob was. 

“Why don’t we talk in the dining room,” Eli said quietly. “Where are your children?”

April stiffened, though neither of them had moved to touch her, and she allowed herself to be led into formal dining room and seated. Once there, she rested her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. Her shoulders weren’t shaking, she wasn’t crying, but she was rubbing her eyes. “Forgive me, I haven’t slept in over twenty four hours. What was that?”

“I asked where your children are, Mrs. Gannon,” Eli said. 

“My children are at a hotel with a babysitter. I couldn’t bring them back here.” She let one hand drop to her lap, but the other supported her head. “And it’s Hepscott, not Gannon. Dr. Hepscott. I kept my maiden name.”

“How did your husband feel about that?” Jacob asked, finally piping in. 

She leveled those laser blue eyes at him again. She assumed the quick change of subject was an interrogation technique that worked well for them. “Does it matter? You still haven’t told me why, exactly, you’re here if my husband died of natural causes.”

Eli glanced back and forth between them before he cleared his throat. “It’s just routine, ma’am. Your husband was in the prime of his life, he had no reported health problems. We’re just covering all the bases.”

“Are you going to do an autopsy?” she demanded.

The silence stretched on just past the point where it was starting to become uncomfortable.

“Yes, it’s routine in cases where a cause of death isn’t readily apparent.”

April closed her eyes, then pushed to her feet. “Excuse me,” she said, enunciating clearly, and walked across the room to a sideboard laden with bottles. She picked brandy, fumbled inside the cupboard for a tumbler, and poured a generous amount into it. 

Jacob couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she tossed it back, taking her medicine. It didn’t bring any color to her face, but she looked like she needed the shock to her system. 

“Dr. Hepscott, I think it would be better if we spoke about this tomorrow,” Eli said, “we can give you a ride back to your hotel.”

Turning her gaze away from the amber liquid swirling in the cup, April made her way back to her chair. She sipped the brandy again, letting it warm her from the inside out. “Yes, I think that would be best,” she paused, “I imagine that my home is a crime scene?” 

“No.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. They’d had time to collect everything they would need in the five hours it had taken her to return from her vacation spot. “But it’s best that you don’t bring your children back tonight.”

That got a reaction, Jacob noted with interest, as she turned on Eli like a snake. “Don’t presume to tell me what’s best,” she practically spat the word at him, “for my children.”

As quickly as it had come, all that fire and venom retreated back under the ice. That’s some control you have there, doctor, Jacob thought. “Let’s get you back to your hotel. We can talk tomorrow.”

April was silent as they wound their way through the suburbs and back into the city center. Jacob’s instincts were telling him that they were missing some piece of a puzzle that he hadn’t even been aware he was trying to put together, some facts that he didn’t have yet. But facts were his business, and they would be getting to the bottom of this, one way or another. 

His eyes drifted to the rear view mirror. The car was awash with red from the taillights of the cars surrounding them, but the good doctor’s hands were gripped together in her lap, knuckles white. 

Grief, Jacob wondered, or guilt. 

“Where have you been the last few days, Dr. Hepscott?”

“Away.” She laid her head back, closed her eyes. “It’s one of our favorite spots. Our escape.”

She jerked upright again when glaring white light flooded the car, when he turned into the driveway of an exclusive hotel. If the looks the valets were shooting his way were anything to go on, his old and battered Ford was not something their usual clientele would be caught dead in. He halfway wondered if he would be asked to move along because his car was lowering property values. 

April climbed out and, ignoring both Jacob and Eli, hurried toward the front desk, her stride brisk and businesslike. The glass doors slid open and she disappeared into the building. 

Eli whistled. “I’ve heard the phrase cold as ice before, but I’ve never actually seen someone with ice water flowing through their veins.” 

He glanced over at Jacob as they eased back into the flow of traffic. “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I think I need eight hours of sleep, a hot shower, and the autopsy report before I could venture an opinion.” 

That got Eli laughing. He clapped a hand on Jacob’s shoulder and gave him a little shake. “Keep dreaming. You’re going to have to settle for maybe six and the sludge they serve in the morgue. The shower is a good idea, though.”

There was silence in the morgue the next morning. The autopsy on the late Henry Gannon had been completed, and the room smelled of powerful antiseptics and industrial strength cleaning solutions, but there was something beneath that. Some smell that couldn’t be washed away no matter how powerfully you scrubbed. It always tickled the back of Jacob’s throat whenever he had to spend too long in there.

The smell of death. He’d been up close to it for too many years to not be used to it by now, but it still brought back the shades of bad memories. 

“It was definitely cardiac arrest-” Dr. Lindsey said, signing off on a file with a flourish that was entirely too dramatic by half. 

“So, natural causes and we get the weekend off, right?” Eli asked. 

Dr. Lindsey glared at the interruption and continued, “but,” he stressed the word, “I found an injection site. Since there are no indications of any medical issues that would need injections, I took blood, urine, and tissue samples. We’ll get the results back in six to eight weeks. It’s possible that he was doping up, I did find signs of cocaine abuse, but nothing he would have injected.”

Eli and Jacob exchanged a glance. “Guess it’s time for that chat with the merry widow.”

Charles frowned. “You’re going to question the widow about drug abuse? That’s a little tactless the day after the death, even for The Soldier.”

If Jacob was offended by the nickname, he certainly didn’t let it show. “That,” he said, “and she’s a doctor. I figure if anyone knows their way around needles, it’s her.”

April was out of place in the interrogation room, and it showed. The institutional grey of the walls blended depressingly into the cheap and cracked linoleum on the floor, giving the entire room a flat, no-nonsense feel. 

Her hair had been pulled back into a braid, and her makeup had been drawn on with the precision of a general making battle plans. The ice shield was back up in full force, with none of the chinks of the night before showing. She had her hands in her lap, and she was perched on the edge of her chair, looking like she wanted as little of her body to make contact with it as possible. 

Given the amount of bodily fluids that had probably made contact with it from past suspects, Jacob didn’t blame her all that much for it.  

“Thank you for coming down, doctor,” Eli said, as he took one of the seats in front of her. “We know this is a difficult time for you. How are your children holding up?”

She gave him a brief, brittle smile. “Their father is dead and, instead of me being with them, I was asked to come to a police station. How do you think that’s affecting them?”

“It’s just routine, ma’am. We have a few follow up questions for you. We’ll get through them as quickly as possible and have you back home in no time.”

“Did you husband have any medical issues you were aware of?” Jacob asked, keeping his voice cool and level. She swung her gaze to his, and maybe it was his imagination, but he could have sworn her eyes tightened. 

“Not that I was aware of,” she replied. She kept her unblinking gaze on his until Eli asked the next question. 

“Any substance abuse issues? Drugs, alcohol?”

April sighed and looked down at her hands, she wasn’t twisted her fingers or rubbing her hands in any nervous gestures, but the white knuckle grip from the night before was back. 

It wasn’t suspicious, people reacted to grief and stress in all kinds of different ways. 

And guilt, Jacob’s mind supplied. 

“He was fond of scotch. And whiskey. But I can’t say he overindulged.”

It felt like she was picking her words carefully. Not rehearsing her answers as such, but giving them bits and pieces, half-truths and evasions, instead of honest answers. It was making Jacob’s palms itch.

“And have you ever given him an injection?”

No reaction. Not even the merest suggestion of a hint of shock.

“Am I being accused of something?” she asked, very softly. 

“Not yet,” Eli replied. 

“In that case, I think I would like my lawyer present.” Now she smiled, though the reason for her amusement wasn’t immediately apparent. Her eyes went to Jacob, and they were dancing. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble contacting him. His name is John. John Seed.”