Well here it is, the official sequel to Boarding to Fredbears! I know I said this would be out on the 27th but due to a few problems with my internet I was unable to release this yesterday. I hope you understand.

With the exception of the first chapter the story is told through the POV of 4 of the characters.

I hope you enjoy the story, and please be honest in your reviews!

Another day, another letter to read. I wonder what issue the Federation has this time.

These thoughts ran through the mind of 46 year old Matt Sinclair, leader of the Federation as he entered his office. Ever since Dylan McLaren had failed to get Fredbears boarding school shut down the Federation had suffered setback after setback. And to top it all off, the Federation wouldn't even be in this situation if his son, Dylan McLaren the second hadn't gotten involved.

Thanks to that brat the Federation was no longer the dominant force it used to be, because thanks to him, the Federation had lost all of its allies in the United States, Western Europe and most of Asia. To make matters worse there was reports of unrest amongst the remaining loyal members of the federation, according to his spies Adidas were on the verge of leaving the Federation, the same could be said for Koenigsegg.

But the biggest blow was the report that he received on July the 30th, it said that the Federation's longest serving member the Russian government, were going to tell the U.S who the remaining members of the Federation where and where they were located. If this happened the Federation was finished, it was as good as dead.

Deciding to put these thoughts out of his head temporarily, Sinclair reached into his pockets, pulled out the letter and began to read it.

From: jerrymclaren

To: FSOTW

Subject: Issues

I don't know how much longer I have Sinclair, I know they're coming for me so I'll try to say as much as I can with what little time I have left.

The police are looking for me, they know what I've done, they know I am a current member of the Federation. Because of this I am forced to do the following, cut off all ties I had with the Federation and turn myself in. I know when you read this you'll automatically accuse me of just looking out for myself. Well newsflash, you are wrong.

Ever since my stupid brother was stopped by his even stupider son I have been trying to keep the Federation intact, I've tried convincing members to stay with us, I tried hiding them. I've tried everything, but needless to say it hasn't worked, and now the cops are closing in on me. So reluctantly I must turn myself in, because I want to end this, I've had enough. I have to do this for my family.

My only hope is that you will come to understand and respect my decision because I have always been loyal to the Federation up to this point. But everyone has a breaking point, and I've reached mine.

May the Federation forever prosper.

Sincerely,

Jerry McLaren.

Sinclair stood there, white-faced and furious, staring at the letter, hardly able to believe it. Yet another person had left the Federation, this was without question the worst birthday present he had ever received.

If the police got their hands on McLaren there would be severe consequences, he knew where many of the Federation's top secret facilities, the last thing he needed was the location of these facilities being exposed to the public.

Well no way was Sinclair going to give him the chance to cause further damage to the Federation, in fact he wasn't going to give Dylan McLaren the chance to do the same thing, he took out his phone and entered his son's number.

If there was one person who could stop that idiot Jerry McLaren and bring Dylan McLaren to him it was his son Shane, he was the leader of the Federation's multinational special operations unit Diaboli Servis, they were a group of soldiers handpicked by the current leader of the Federation and assigned to deal with the most dangerous enemies of the Federation, the unit was made up of the very best men and women the Federation has to offer and are authorised to use any and all means to get their assigned target.

After two rings he heard his son's voice.

"Hello father, I trust you're well? How may I assist you on this fine day today?" said Shane sarcastically.

"Very funny son," Sinclair chuckled, "I have a very important mission for you and the rest of Diaboli Servis, one that will decide the future of the Federation."

"What do I have to do?" said Shane impatiently. "With all due respect can you just tell me the important details?"

Sinclair rolled his eyes. "Still got your mother's patience huh? Very well, your target is none other than Jerry and Dylan McLaren the second. Both of these men as you know are former members of the Federation, you must bring them to the site in Siberia. Once you have done this await further instructions. Have you got all of that?"

After Sinclair said this there was silence for a minute or two. Sinclair knew why is son hadn't given his reply straight away, the McLarens, Jerry and Dylan were close friends of his son back in the day. But after the failed attempt to get Fredbear's closed their friendship collapsed and they went their separate ways.

"Did I hear you right?" said Shane slowly. "Did you just say Dylan and Jerry McLaren?"

"Yes son, Dylan and Jerry McLaren. As you know Dylan is the reason we are in this mess in the first place and Jerry is the latest to try to leave the Federation, I don't know where Jerry is at the moment but I know where Dylan is. He and his friends are on a cruise somewhere in the Caribbean, I trust this won't be a issue for you, having to go after old friends?"

"Of course father," replied Shane. "The Federation always come first, no matter what. I will personally make sure that the two McLarens will pay for their crimes, you can count on me."

"Good to hear, Truman will give you all the details just give him a call. Give me a call when you've got them."

"I will sir, may the Federation forever prosper."

"May the Federation forever prosper." said Sinclair before hanging up. Time to go to work.

He exited his office and walked down the dimly lit hallway until he came to a door that had Conference room on it.

After giving himself one last check he opened the door and stepped inside.

It was a small room, the only thing in it worth mentioning was the stage at the head of the room, there were 5 tables that were scattered around the place and behind the table furthest from the stage was a large TV screen. In addition to this the wall had paintings of past leaders of the Federation, as he made his way to the stage Sinclair became aware that all talking stopped the moment he entered.

No doubt their wondering what I have to say. thought Sinclair, as he stepped onto the stage and turned to face the representatives of what remained of the Federation.

The ones closest to the stage was the English, they were all wearing white suits with red ties. Sinclair presumed they were wearing such gear in a n attempt to wear something that looked like their flag.

The French were no different, they were wearing gear akin to their flag, blue suits with white ties and their socks were red.

In contrast, the Italians were wearing all black suits, in Sinclair's eyes they were easily the best dressed. Well aside from himself that is, his own red suit easily dwarfed the suits of the Italians, the French and the English.

The worst dressed without question were the Germans, apparently they thought it would be a good idea to wear the outfits you would only wear on Oktoberfest. Sinclair could only wonder what was going on in their head when they thought it would be a good idea to wear such ridiculous clothing.

After checking he had his script with him, Sinclair cleared his throat and began speaking.

"My people. Sons and daughters of the Federation... We are here today to discuss a new threat, a threat that has the Federation on the brink of catastrophe. This threat is as you know coming from a boy, a boy that foolishly thinks that his actions will bring greater good to the world. Do you agree with this boy?"

"No!" yelled the English.

"Do you want to see the Federation vanquished from the face of the earth?" shouted Sinclair. "Do you want to see 40 years of hard work undone by one selfish little brat?"

"To hell with that Boy!" screamed the Germans and Italians.

"So what shall we do with the boy?" Sinclair was pacing up and down the stage now. "Shall we make him and his associates pay for their crimes?"

"Make him pay!" the French shouted at the top of their lungs.

A sick grin formed on Sinclair's face. "As you wish! Now observe the screen behind you!"

The moment the screen came on all the shouted stop. On the screen wearing his signature royal blue suit was none other than Dylan McLaren, behind him was a large cruise ship.

"Dylan McLaren thinks I don't know where he is," said Sinclair, grinning. "But thanks to Carl Truman I know where he is! As I speak Diaboli Servis are making their move, soon he shall pay for his act of treason against the Federation. And you will all have a part to play, so listen closely!"

"Once he and the rest of his friends have been captured all of you are to go to the site in Siberia, you will be tasked with making sure that McLaren and his friends carry out the little "game" I have in store for them. A set of instructions will be provided to you once you reach the site, you will be contacted once Diaboli Servis have got the kids. Any questions? If so raise your hands"

No one raised their hand, this was the day they had been waiting for. A chance to strike back at the very man who had ruined their lives and reduced Federation to a broken shadow of its former self.

"Very well than, said Sinclair. "You know what needs to be done, so get moving. May the Federation forever prosper."

"May the Federation forever prosper." said everyone else in the room. Then in twos and threes the British, English, Germans and Italians left the room leaving Sinclair all by himself.

I will get you Dylan McLaren, thought Sinclair. I will find you and I WILL make you pay for what you did to me and the Federation. You and your friends will suffer the consequences, my allies will make sure of this.

You'll soon be reunited with your parents Dylan McLaren... You'll be reunited, in DEATH.