William unlocked the door to his new building, kicking aside some stray planks of wood as Michael followed in after him. "This is it?" The teen asked shyly, looking around the giant space. "Sure is," the man answered, flicking on the lights. White-golden bulb sheets flickered on high above them, casting a soft glow over the dining and play area, especially bright over stage.
"Alright," William said, lifting a broom from a crate he brought in with them. "I'm going to start cleaning windows; you take care of floors. Put any junk in the dumpsters 'round back," he said, handing the broom to his son. Michael nodded and got to work, quietly tossing various garbage into a pile while his father switched on a radio, playing some of his favorite hits from the sixties.
The man whistled along to the music, spraying down the glass while his son swept. Eventually, the boy started humming with him. He watched in satisfaction as Michael diligently worked without complaint. The kid almost seemed to enjoy it.
"You ever considered taking up the business?" He asked, peering at the teen from the corner of his eye. Michael paused before answering. "I mean, I've thought about it," he said apprehensively. William hummed. "It might be the thing for you. Your teachers tell me you have an aptitude for mechanics," he added. His son paused in his sweeping, gazing forward absent-mindedly. "I guess you could say that," he said, tone vacant.
"What sort of things do you do?" His father questioned, wiping down the last window. "Car stuff, mainly," Michael answered. "We don't have much else at school, and I like taking apart the engines, seeing if I can put them back together, you know?" William chuckled. "Well, can you?" He inquired jovially. The teen shrugged with a small smile. "Sometimes. I'm getting better though."
His father made a sound of acknowledgement with a smile. "Sometime I should show you how my robots work," he offered, opening some of the large cardboard boxes stacked in the middle of the room. He began pulling out its contents, most of which were various table and chair pieces and stage props. Michael nodded. "Yeah, that...that could be fun," he said with a rare look of contentment. "It's a deal, then," the man smiled. "Now, come help me with these boxes."
...
William pushed open the door to the new pizzeria, glancing at the other employees preparing the restaurant for the day's activities. The robots on-stage were certainly unlike the ones at the last location; plastic instead of soft fuzz with a more circus-like appearance and circles on their cheeks and exaggerated features. He was well aware of the small fortune Allan spent adding protection measures to the animatronics, not for the safety of the children of course, but rather as a precaution to avoid further incidents. The manager hadn't tried hard to hide that fact.
He turned down the hall as his coworkers continued unboxing party hats and balloons in the dining room. He walked to a wide doorway at the end of the corridor and stepped inside, eyeing the things littered around the room. Like the last security office, there were numerous child-drawings of various animatronics scattered around like a tattered wallpaper. Stacks of televisions lay in the corners, one larger on the desk in the center of the room.
The man walked to the desk and opened one of its drawers, fingering through files until he found the one he was looking for. He pulled a small stack of papers from it and glanced through them, making mental notes as he went. Printed on the pages were addresses of the other Fazbear Entertainment locations around town and in the nearby cities, one in particular he wanted to look into. He pulled its paper from the others and folded it neatly, tucking it in his pocket, then put the others back in the drawer.
William strolled out of the office and down the hallway, adjusting his day-guard badge as he re-entered the dining room. "Hey, Dave!" One of the workers called, waving. He looked their direction, watching as they hefted a large purple and white present box to the prize corner.
"We found an animatronic out in the alley, decided to salvage it. Could you take a look? We don't know if anything needs fixin'," the man said, pushing the box against the wall. As Dave was now also an animatronic technician, his co-workers had been coming to him with all sorts of questions about their prized robots. It could be annoying at times, but in all honesty, being in that position could help cover his involvement in the child disappearances.
He nodded, heading their direction. "Here it is," the worker said, gesturing to the inside of the box. "If ya need anything, let us know," he said, turning the direction his partner was going, out the delivery doors where a food truck was waiting with shipments of party snacks. William peered his head over the box to see a crumpled mess of black and white stripes in humanoid form.
He gently lifted the figure from the box and carried it to a 'Parts and Service' room, shutting the door behind him. He set the thing on a table and flicked on the light. The animatronic resembled a puppet without strings, long, thin limbs with abnormally large hands and head. William thought he recognized it as he gazed at its mask, looking intently at its cherry-red lips and circles on its cheeks, its eyes empty and hollow. White buttons and stripes lined its chest and limbs in perfect symmetry. The only thing that threw him off were the purple streaks falling from its eye sockets to the edge of its face, mimicking tears. He hadn't seen anything like it.
That's when it clicked. This was that machine Henry made to protect Charlie. What was it doing here, he wondered? They were nearly a two-hour drive from Hurricane. He looked into its eye sockets, where he swore, he could see dim flickers of light. That's when he felt a twisted, furious energy fill the room, cutting to his core.
"Ah," he murmured as things began falling into place in his mind. "Hello, Charlotte," he said softly with a smile. The atmosphere somehow grew with more anger at the use of her full name. William knew now with a certainty that it was her-the only people she allowed to address her that way were her parents, more so Henry. "So that thing came for you after all. Pity it was too late," he said in a hushed tone. "And you came all the way here to see me, hmm?"
The lights in the puppet's eyes flashed dangerously, but it did not move. It seemed unable to. "Well, my dear," William said, lifting its limbs one by one with care, checking their functionality. "I'm flattered, but whatever you're trying to do here isn't working." He could almost feel a human-like warmth as he ran his hand over various locks along its neck and back, making sure they were all tight.
William looked at its eyes, cold and unmoving as he drew a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping away dirt smears on its porcelain face. "This is new," he said with an eyebrow raised as he paused over the tear tracks. He added pressure to the cloth, seeing if it would come off. "Your doing, then?" He questioned. It didn't reply. "Well Charlie, you seem to be in full working order. I think you're ready for our parties outside, hmm?"
He lifted the puppet from the table, cradling it in one arm like he would a child as he left the room. The workers were nearly done carrying in boxes of frozen food as he entered the dining room. "Good, then?" One asked, looking his way. "Absolutely perfect," William replied with a wide smile.
He carried it back to the present box and gently eased it inside with care. "See you soon. Be good for the children," he said with a pleased smile. It seemed to emit wrathful vitality as he closed the lid, shutting the puppet in darkness. "See you very soon."