July 17th, 1983 - 0 days until the party.

Kevin peered down at Evan quietly crying on the floor through his blue Bonnie mask. "Wow, your brother is kind of a baby, isn't he?" He asked the boy across from him.

Michael stood still in front of his brother.

"It's hilarious."

No one said anything for a moment while Evan tried to suppress his sobs. As the teenager looked at the boy on the patterned carpet, an idea entered his mind, a malevolent smile growing on his face.

"Why don't we help him get a closer look! He will love it!"

Evan's head shot up from where it had been cradled in his hands, reddened eyes widened in sheer terror. "No! Please!" He cried, shrinking backwards into Kevin's legs. But Michael didn't really care.

"Come on guys, let's give this little man a lift. He wants to get up close and personal!" He said with a grin, reaching forward to take the boy by the arm. The others snickered behind their masks, moving to assist in picking Evan up from the floor.

"No! I don't want to go!" The child cried, trying to pull away from the grip of the two teenagers holding him firmly as they carried him to the stage, twisting and pulling as they held him in midair.

The others laughed and guffawed at Evan's squeals, spurring Michael on. "You heard the little man! He wants to get even closer! Ha ha ha!" He said, pulling everyone closer to the performing animatronics. He watched as his brother's eyes widened further, no longer able to muster pleads or words. The six-year old pulled and squirmed harder in their hold, trying desperately to twist out of all the hands clutching him, but even in his adrenaline-powered state, he couldn't pull away.

The five finally reached the stage where they stopped, giving Evan a full view of the Golden Freddy animatronic performing on the platform. It seemed to everyone, even Michael that that's how far the prank would go as the boy fell limp in their grasp, quietly sobbing to himself, apparently defeated. The others were looking at each other, looking for some instruction on what they were all to do next, their victim's crying the only sound between them when Michael revealed one final idea.

"Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!" The teenager said with enthusiasm, motioning to the animatronic. Evan's eyes flew open suddenly, his small mouth dropping open, and Michael could almost swear he saw mortal fear in the boy's blue orbs. It nearly made him stop, but the laughter and encouraging whoops his friends were cheering out goaded him to continue. Any remaining hesitation was erased from his mind as they lifted the boy higher, head aimed for Fredbear's jaws.

Evan was near screaming, trying to get their father's attention, but amid the party music and the other children playing, such cries were in vain. There seemed to be one last warning in Michael's mind as they steadied him in front of the bear's mouth, but they were nearly through with their prank anyway. It wouldn't matter.

"On THREE! One... two..."

!

Michael gasped deeply, shooting up in his bed, eyes widened as his chest rose and fell in quick succession with his rapid breathing. Tangled images of red and Evan's body hanging limply from Fredbear's mouth became intermixed in his vision. He tried to slow his inhales, focusing on a pattern on his quilt as he tried to pry himself from the dream.

Part of him was still in that memory, in that nightmare as his gaze faded from his bedsheets to his hands covered in his brother's blood, his shirt stained with it. He could still hear that sickening crunch, people screaming, his mother crying.

The man shook his head rapidly, trying to rid himself of those blasted images. Stupid, how could he have been so stupid... stupid prank, stupid friends; how could he have been such anidiot?!

Michael tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he turned his head to the alarm clock on his nightstand. 5:38 AM... he frowned in annoyance. Henry wouldn't be up for another hour.

The boy groaned, pulling a hand over his face, knowing there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep before the alarm would go off later that morning. He sighed, reluctantly swinging his legs over the bed onto soft carpet. He stood and stretched, contemplating what to do with his extra time when a corner of paper sticking out from his desk drawer caught his attention.

Good idea.

Michael groggily walked to the desk and sat down, flicking on his study lamp. He squinted at the sudden light, rubbing his eyes as he pulled the drawer open and retrieved a notebook and set of papers from it. He suppressed a yawn as he read the faded headlines on a torn newspaper. The title was one he was very familiar with.

Four children missing at local pizzeria in Richfield, Utah

The boy set the paper down, flipping the notebook open as his eyes scanned some of his most recent notes. Susie Harding. Fritz Todd. Jeremy Drake. Gabriel Brown. These were the kids who disappeared that day, who were now presumed dead. At least, that's what Henry's notes determined... the notes Michael found in his office just a year prior along with an entry that detailed everything that occurred in the months following Evan's death.

Considering Henry hadn't explained why he was pursuing the missing children's case or why he had suddenly dropped it when Michael confessed he was leaving home, he guessed that the man didn't want him to know.

Too late now. Honestly, if you assign your ward mail duties, don't keep that stuff out in the open if you don't want him to know, right?

Michael frowned guiltily. Henry still didn't know that he had stumbled upon that stuff. All of the research he was doing right now was under the guise of "homework," and Henry didn't ask questions. The boy sighed, shaking his head. He deserved to know what was going on, right? He was a part of this... Henry didn't need to emotionally protect him from the truth.

He admitted, discovering Charlie also had been murdered (which his parents apparently didn't want to tell him so soon after the passing of his brother) had been a terrible shock. But what was worse was that Henry theorized that his father was behind it, and subsequently behind the missing children case.

The notes stopped after January and there was nothing there for confirmation, but... considering the blueprints Michael found those years ago, it seemed that it was certainly a possibility. And it was a horrid thing to imagine... your own father, a cold-blooded killer.

It hurt, knowing that, knowing who he'd been living with. But it hurt more thinking back on the good moments he had with his dad, moments he admitted, he missed. It hurt to know that this all resulted from that stupid accident that he caused, that his father changed into a monster because of it. That he'd effectively gone off the deep end after Evan died and his terrible creations ended up killing Elizabeth too.

Michael didn't know what to make of it, even with some explanation from Henry's entries.

That was another thing- bits of Henry's notes were missing. He kept alluding to interactions with his daughter, like she was still here. But of course that wasn't right. She was dead. Another mystery in this mystery mess. Just like the mystery of why his father had committed any of the crimes that he did, because not even his ex-business partner could figure that out.

And another question-just how many victims were there? Henry obviously determined that the deaths of Charlie and the four other missing children were because of Dad. But then there was that other incident the February after Elizabeth's death, the one that resulted in five more murders at Freddy's Pizzeria. That had to be his father too.

And this one wasn't in Henry's notes, but in doing crime research from the years of 1983 and 1984, Michael found another child homicide, this one in Hurricane. That Cassidy Morgan kid... that was his name, right?

He wasn't so sure about that one, seeing as his body wasn't at a Fazbear Entertainment facility-a deviation from all of his father's other murders. He didn't know if it was related or not, but it was certainly suspicious. Not to mention complicated.

But despite all this mystery, despite all the confusion and all the questions, there was one that remained most prominent in Michael's mind.

Where was his father?

And that was one he asked Henry even. But not even he knew. He'd disappeared the night Michael ran away. Police records had him classified as missing. But since it'd been so long, it seemed that most everyone thought him dead.

But not Michael.

His father wouldn't have killed himself. But maybe he knew what consequences were coming to him... he was a smart man, a genius even. If he was missing, it was because he wanted to be.

...Or maybe he didn't have a choice.

Michael sighed as he flipped through Fazbear Entertainment employee records, eyes on the lookout for his father's alias name. It seemed impossible to find a good place to start looking for his Dad, but maybe he was in hiding, using the Dave Miller persona again. But so far, it'd only been dead ends. He only found the last place where his father had been working before his disappearance... of course there were still about two hundred pages of names to search. Which sounded like a really fun project. So exciting.

Begrudgingly, Michael began scanning names again, eyes tiredly reading profile after profile as the quiet morning minutes ticked by. The work felt more monotonous as he continued with no leads, so when the sound of bacon frying came from downstairs signaling a break, he was extra relieved. The boy got up from his seat, closing the book as he stepped into a pair of slippers and pulled on a baggy t-shirt before heading to the kitchen.

Sunlight shone in through the living room and kitchen windows of the townhome, casting a warm golden glow inside. The boy moved to sit at the counter behind where Henry was cooking breakfast, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

Hearing his entrance, Henry turned from his post at the stove, and smiled at the new arrival. "Well, there's the birthday boy! Good morning, Michael."

Michael allowed himself a lazy smile in return as he gave a small wave. "Mornin'," he replied, blinking the remaining sleep from his eyes. "What's cooking, doc?"

The man chuckled, turning back to the griddle as he turned pieces of bacon and eggs. "French toast. How many would you like?" He asked, sunlight shining on his graying hair. Michael hummed in thought for a moment, swishing the remaining orange juice in his cup. "Probably should stick to just two since we have that party tonight, huh?" He replied with a light grin.

Henry snorted, shoulders quivering in low laughter. "Oh, good grief kiddo, it's your birthday, eat what you want!" He said as he shook his head. Michael shrugged with a small smile. "Alright. Three, then."

"That's more like it," Henry nodded, flipping the pieces of bread cooking on the stove. Michael took another sip from his glass when a plate of french toast, eggs, and bacon was set in front of him, another dish set at the seat next to it as Henry rounded the counter to the other barstool.

"Got any plans today, Mike?" The man asked, pouring himself a mug full of coffee.

"Just the party tonight," the boy answered. "What time is everyone coming, by the way?" He said, tipping the syrup bottle over his plate.

"Rob will drop by around five, since he has to leave a little early. Dana said she'd be getting off work at about the same time, so I presume she'll get here no later than six. Any word from Laura?" Henry answered as he dropped some sliced strawberries onto his french toast. Michael swallowed the remainder of the food in his mouth, nodding. "Yeah, her dad's gonna bring her over at four-thirty."

"Alright. You both can come help with the cake if you'd like, but I assume you'd prefer to do your own thing," the man spoke.

"Probably," Michael said, taking a bite of sausage.

"Well, that's fine, so long as you keep your door open. No funny business in my house," Henry continued, causing the boy beside him to blush suddenly and choke on his food. "Henry!" He exclaimed in embarrassment, coughing.

"What?" The man replied.

"We're just friends!"

"I've been young too, Michael, don't think I don't know what teenagers get up to when they think they're being sneaky," Henry spoke with a sly expression, mouth turning up in amusement at the growing red on the boy's face. "And I have a suspicion that you'd like to be more than just friends," he continued with a cheeky smile.

Somehow, the blush on Michael's face intensified as he huffed, crossing his arms in feigned irritation in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "We're just friends," he insisted. Henry stood from his seat, plate in hand as he made to the sink. "Alright, Mikey," he said with a chuckle, patting the boy on the shoulder.

Michael groaned while Henry washed his dish, still chuckling to himself in amusement. "Ah, don't work yourself into a knot, kiddo. Every boy gets puppy love for somebody sometime or another. About time you did," he laughed. "But does the lovely lass know...?" He continued, head turning back in playful curiosity.

Michael dropped his face into his hand, elbow perched on the countertop. "Not a word," he said in a feigned hiss, pointing a finger in the man's direction when the phone began to ring. Before Henry could turn off the tap, the boy reached to where it hung on the wall, taking it from its hook.

"Hello?" He spoke into the headpiece.

"Hey, Mike," a girl's voice spoke on the other end.

"Oh-hi, Laura," Michael said in surprise, suddenly hopping off his seat to walk around the wall where it was quieter.

"Speak-a the devil," Henry spoke with a sly grin, leaning back from his station at the sink to wink at the boy. He shot him a half-glare with a finger to his lips as he went further out of the man's view.

"Hey, just wanted to let you know I found the number for Dana's old manager," Laura continued.

"Allan?" Michael questioned.

"Yeah. He lives in Florida now, and he changed his name, which is why we couldn't find it earlier when we searched those phone records. He goes by 'Landry Davis,' but I doubt we'll be able to get a hold of him. Rang him twice yesterday and once this morning, and he didn't pick up." The girl answered as the sound of ruffling papers came from her end.

"Okay. We won't worry about him, then," the boy said, peering around the corner at Henry who was washing the dishes, whistling. He turned back, dropping his voice. "Did you finish the admission letter?" He continued.

"Think so. Looks pretty identical to the one Alice got, so if nobody is looking too hard, it should pass for the real deal."

"Okay," Michael spoke, stealing another glance at the man in the kitchen. "Bring it over tonight, I'll stick it in the mailbox tomorrow morning and then we can get things rolling."

"Sure thing, boss man. See you at the party, then," she spoke.

"Bye Laura," the boy answered, hearing her return the gesture before hanging up the phone. He set the headset back on its hook before walking back into the kitchen where Henry was drying his hands, apparently done with his chore.

"Did you ask her out finally?" The man asked with a cheeky grin.

"Are you done teasing me about this finally?" Michael mimicked, raising an eyebrow. Henry laughed, shaking his head with a smile. "Oh, I suppose for now, kiddo."

The man walked past him to the entry room, taking his hat and coat from their hooks near the door. "Well, I've got to go get some last minute gifts and supplies. Hope you can handle yourself for an hour," he said, looking back with a wink. "No setting anything on fire."

Michael rolled his eyes, not able to suppress the smile on his face. "That was once." Said the boy, shaking his head.

"That's what all the pyromaniacs say. Try not to get too trigger happy with the stove this time, hmm?" Henry spoke with a relaxed smile as he opened the front door. "I'll be back soon, and then we can get the real birthday celebrations going."

"Yeah. Bye, Henry," the boy spoke as the man stepped out onto the porch. Henry waved, pulling closed the door behind him with a click.

Michael slowly let his waving hand fall back to his side quietly. Well... he thought to himself. To be honest, his birthday wasn't really the focus of this month. No... he had more important things coming.

It was his turn to do some investigating.