FULL, UN-CUT DESCRIPTION: When Kenneth Talbot accepted the job as "Night Guard" of Fazbear's Fright, he was promised an easy gig of watching some cameras, playing a few audio clips, and maybe "dying" once or twice to please the patrons of the attraction. However, the newly-revived child murderer trapped in an animatronic suit and the vengeful Marionette that awaited him proved that this new career choice might be a little harder than the easily-frightened Guard had anticipated. However, Kenneth believes in second chances for everyone, and he is determined to prove his theory true to the end...no matter what the consequences of his selfless actions might be.

A/N: Dear Reader, this lovely creation was born from the minds of myself and littlemissylisamel. We spent weeks and weeks RPing to create the (very complex) relationships between Springtrap, Kenneth, and the Marionette that you'll encounter in this fanfic. Kenneth Talbot is an easily frightened yet pure-hearted OC thought up by littlemissylisamel, and we hope you enjoy watching his personality and relationships with the members of Fazbear's Fright develop as the story progresses.

Without further ado, please enjoy the Prologue of, "My New Best Friend Is A Murderer!"

Prologue: Awakening

Tap, tap, tap...

The sound of something metal knocking against tile was quite loud, and it was quickly beginning to wane on the man's nerves. With a tremendous amount of effort, he groggily opened his eyes and looked around. Well, look as best he could, for his neck was extremely stiff and his body felt like lead.

What...what the hell happened? he thought, trying to gather his bearings with almost non-existent mobility; the most he could manage at the moment was to swivel his eyeballs from side to side. To his slight relief, he had woken up in a sitting position, so even if he had no use of his limbs he was still at a good angle with which to see the things around him.

Still in the Pizzeria...of course. With a mental sneer of disgust, he noted the dirty, checkered walls with the red stripe running along the middle and the various children's drawings taped onto the grossly-slick tile. God, how he wished he could simply quit this stupid job and move on with his life.

No more long, arduous hours being tugged on by snotty, screaming children.

No more desperate attempts to hide his growing resentment for the life he was leading.

No more cleaning up after himself when these attempts failed to work.

No more running from the gho-

Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed right through the middle of the man's skull. He cried out and clutched his head, only dimly noticing how big and clunky his hands seemed. He wasn't sure how long the pain actually lasted for, but it felt like hours.

"S-Shit...," he cursed, and then abruptly froze. His voice was...well, it sounded alright, but it didn't actually feel as though it came out of his mouth. That is, his mouth didn't seem to move; to test this, he decided to try another phrase.

"What the actual fu-"

"Ah, ah, that's not a very nice word!"

Despite the overwhelming heaviness in his joints, the sudden intrusion of an unfamiliar voice caused the man to jerk his head towards the ceiling, where he thought the sound had come from. However, all he found was the dusty, old, pock-marked panels that were likely to fall down on someone's head at a moment's notice.

"Who said that?!" the man called out in his odd, detached voice. There was no response, so the man decided that this was as good a time as any to get up and figure out what was happening.

Obviously, he was in one of the hallways of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, but...he couldn't quite recall how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was completing a particularly stressful shift, punching out his time card, and then... the rest was a blur. Thinking hard, he could recall vague, child-sized shapes, the horrid sound of metal crunching against something it wasn't meant to be crunched against, and the smell of blood. But try as he might, he simply couldn't make sense of this information at the current time.

Slowly, he attempted to lift his arm up from where it had fallen back against his side without his notice. It took a gargantuan effort, but he eventually managed to bring the heavy limb up in front of his face. He then let out a very undignified shriek.

His arm, if it was indeed his, was certainly not the one that the man was accustomed to. Instead of being covered in a purple sleeve, as per usual, it was now trapped inside a casing of golden, rotting fake fur with gaping holes in it that revealed wiring and metal underneath. If he looked close enough, he could see a vague hint of purple fabric amidst the jumble of stuff, but it was so overshadowed and ripped that the man wondered if it was simply a trick of his imagination.

Slowly, a dark tingle of fear running up his spine, the man glanced down at the rest of his body. Instantly, he recognized why his arm had looked so foreign and yet so familiar: it was the arm of the Golden Bonnie animatronic suit, one of the older models that had been locked away in the back room. The suits had been deemed "unsafe," after an unfortunate accident with an employee at another franchise restaurant, and had promptly been put into storage, since management couldn't find the will to throw it out just yet.

This had been very lucky for Vincent, because the suit had been just the thing to hide him from the ghosts who desperately wanted revenge for-

Another sudden pain shot through the man's head, slightly less intense but no less jarring. Yes, he had used this suit to hide from...oh, that was right, to hide from the children that he had-

He attempted to shake his head to clear the thought away, but realized with another shock of fear that he did not have that much mobility inside the suit. Indeed, when he tried to move his fingers, the Golden Bonnie's fingers moved right along with his. Same with his toes, and then his knees as he gingerly attempted to get up off of the floor.

"Shit!" he cursed aloud, beginning to panic. He seemed to actually be stuck, and stuck very badly. It was almost as if his body had been fused with the suit; any movement he made, no matter how small, would cause the suit to move as well. This wasn't simply the suit moving along with him; it was as if the suit was moving for him, like his body was incapable of these actions on its own.

But...how could that be? There was no way that the suit could be this attached to a person's body, unless...

Despite his best effort to keep a relatively cool composure, the man began to physically tremble. The sound of metal knocking against something unfamiliar echoed throughout the suit, and when his an exposed wire accidentally brushed against another he received a slight shock. Glancing into one of the rotted holes in his leg, the man realized that the endoskeleton of the suit was rubbing against a dark, reddish brown object with a hint of white peeking through the spot where the metal touched it.

It only took the man a few seconds to process that this was in fact his own mummified shin.

Utterly horrified, the man found minimal solace in the fact that because he no longer had control of his own body, only the suit it was fused with, he would not be able to throw up or pass out. However, he could still scream.

And scream he did.

He let out a tremendous wail that echoed throughout the entire building, bouncing off the walls and empty rooms. It was full of raw emotions- probably one of the only times the man had actually shown true emotion in his entire life. Fear, confusion, and hatred all mixed together to create a sound that seemed to come from the deepest part of the man's soul, and it did not stop for quite some time.

When he finally found the strength to stop or lost the strength to continue- whichever came first, he didn't know, the man was aware of three very important facts:

1. His body was completely fused to the suit. The metal endoskeleton had trapped him inside.

2. He had been this way for quite some time; the rotted fur, gaping holes, and general unkempt look of his newfound body proved this.

3. Combined, these previous facts led to an obvious, unsettling conclusion: if the endoskeleton had literally stabbed through him, as was the case, then that meant that he would certainly have died. And it wouldn't have been a quick death; it would have been slow, agonizing, and probably one of the most tortuous experiences that a human could endure.

He had died. And yet, here he was; trapped inside an animatronic suit, but apparently alive. Of course, this led to an infinite number of questions: how exactly had he died? Obviously, he had been impaled by the suit, but what had led him to be in that position? The details were still too fuzzy to make an educated guess.

However, the most pressing concern was formed out of three, simple letters:

Why?

Why had he been brought back? If he was being punished for something- probably, judging from the harsh nature of his apparent "death," then what was the purpose for bringing him back to Earth?

As if cued by this mental query, the tapping sound suddenly began again.

Tap, tap, tap...

The sound unnerved the man (robot? Half-human? He wasn't quite sure what he was anymore...) enough that he decided now was the time to get up and start moving around. Maybe he could find some clues as to his current situation if he did some exploring. Steeling his nerves, he painstakingly got to his feet. The endoskeleton tugged at his body every time he moved, and while the pain was-thankfully- not unbearable, it was definitely enough to make him wince and occasionally curse as he shifted onto his feet. The moment he was up, he nearly pitched forward, not used to the heaviness of the suit.

He had climbed in and out of that thing more times than he could count, so the man figured that the combination of actually being fused to it as well as being "dead" for Fazbear knows how long was the cause of his unsteadiness. While he might not have as much control over his physical movements, he tried his best to keep his mental composure in check.

That is, until the unfamiliar voice from earlier pierced through the air once again.

"...My, my. What have we here?"