Author's Notes: JESUS finally found time to work on this. I haven't been sleeping lately anyway, so I work on this at the witching hour-erh, the coffee hour ;) Also, I forget how much I love writing horror until I sit down to work on Last Shift/anything FNAF related, really. Let's really bring this story back to the spooky side of FNAF, eh?
When one has enemies, it is prudent to assume that they are always close by. -Anon
ACT II
Chapter 10. Two Down, One to Go
Max had been quiet all afternoon, and it was starting to unnerve even laid-back Mike.
Sure, the kid was normally withdrawn, but he seemed less so the past two days. Maybe Mike didn't know Max Afton as well as he knew the Fazes, and maybe he didn't trust his own judge of character after Pizza World, but he genuinely liked the kid and his bunnybot. He thought maybe the kid was close to at least tolerating him, if nothing else his history with the Fazes was still something to be picked at. Mike didn't believe in history being erased or rewritten, but he believed in second chances when he could afford to. They reminded him of himself and Freddy, and it warmed his hurting heart in ways he hadn't expected. Still, they were vastly different from almost any of the other cast of characters he'd come across. With two exceptions however…
'Mari, I'm not crazy, right? He and Scrap are a lot like you and Artie used to be. You two were so close. If he's a bad guy, and I'm wrong…well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.' Keeping in mind of course, he really was tired of being wrong.
And while the sudden silence wasn't exactly out of Max's realm of personality, something still seemed off to Mike's well honed instincts. A slight shift in the pattern. He wanted to know why. And, if he could, he wanted to help.
"I was thinking," the night guard paused for a slug of coffee, "we could take the Rockstars, load them into the van, and drive them to a Denny's and just…see how it goes."
"Sure, Mike." Answered the zombie kid after a completely unironic and uninterested pause, his fingers idly moving his headphone cord around into new and interesting shapes. The whole entire gesture, complete with downcast eyes and hunched shoulders, only furthered Mike's suspicions. Wherever Max was, he was a million miles away.
Scraptrap, who most certainly was listening to him, snorted at Mike and tilted his head. He swiped his paws in the air behind his Suit's frame, and Gold translated.
'No-Good. Again ?'
Well, since he got the go ahead from the teen's bunny…
"And if that doesn't tickle your fancy, we could see if Freddy and Chica wanna go square dancing—"
"….what?" That got the kid's attention, along with a confused arch of his brow as he tried to register and comprehend what nonsense he'd just heard. "What're'you…dude, what?"
"Sorry," Mike laughed, trying and failing to stifle it, "but this is the first time I've had your attention since we sat down for lunch, kid. Everything okay?"
Lunch being his food and Max sitting across from him sipping at some luke warm water with small, minute winces.
"…everything's fine. Yanno, aside from my Uncle still not showing up, and Springtrap lurking god knows where, freakin' Molten Freddy in the warehouse across the way, and whatever the heck happened to you when you played that creepy Midnight Motorist—"
"Ahh, don't worry about that last one. I'm tougher than I look, Max." Mike assuaged with a cheerful, easy going smirk and shrug.
"With all those scars, you look pretty freakin' tough to begin with." Max snorted, then sat back. He sat up, trying to stretch kinks out of his frame as he eyed Mike, who was almost finished with his fourth slice of pizza.
"Uh…how'd you get those, anyway?"
"Which ones?" Mike hummed, then smiled. Without waiting for an answer, he exposed his right hand and pulled back his jacket sleeve, showing the multitude of pale gashes curving back his forearm Max had yet to see. The only set visible to that cluster of scarred flesh was the three painted across his knuckles and wrist. They led up to a much bigger and impressive rake of silvery tissue.
"Ms. Foxy, you know her?" Mike said conversationally.
"The Toy Foxy? Sure." Max shrugged. "I saw her before and after Dad's little…experiment. Wasn't she called 'The Mangle?'"
"Yeah, aptly named might I add. This was her work," a finger tapped his scarred cheek, "This too."
"She got you good," Max whistled. "Freddy take her apart? For keeps, I mean?"
"No," Mike blinked, "why would Freddy do that? She was only scared. She didn't mean no harm."
"…sure, Mike." Max studied the man's faded right eye, with the odd white pupil and the milky yellow sclera. "Mangle tried taking a hunk out of you, though…kinda looks like they succeeded."
"Eh, what she did was a paper cut compared to Ennard. When I tell you he went for my guts he really went for my guts." Mike held his hands out to show the size of the wound, "Like this big, right here on my left side. My hip still hurts when it rains."
"I'll bet." Max hummed.
"Your turn." Really, Max should have expected this. The guy was nosey as hell and somehow made it charming. "How'd you get yours? Everything is all stitched up, but…"
"Dead men can't heal themselves back up, Mike." Max's smirk turned slightly sour and cracked at the edges, but he continued talking. "Most of these are just wear and tear of being a literal walking corpse. I don't exactly decay—which is good. But I also can't undo anything that goes wrong on me, which is bad. Scraptrap's my first and only line of defense against the outside world."
"In more ways than one." Mike hummed knowingly, and he looked…sad? No, he looked emphatic. Like he understood. Too well. Max filed that look away for later.
"….right. Uh, anyway," Max cleared his throat and went on. "Hard to remember them all. I crack during the winter, though, if I'm not warm enough. The gunk in my body freezes up, the embalming fluid Dad used was cheap quality or sumthin'…"
"Can we replace it?" Mike asked and even Scraptrap look startled at such a comment. As if the two had never considered trying that.
"Uh…dunno? I guess, yeah, technically." Max said. "My organs and shit are still in me just kind of…suspended? It's creepy. Where you gunna get your hands on embalming fluid? This better not fall under the category of 'I got a guy.'"
"We'll figure something out." Mike answered. "But if it's worth a shot and keeps you running…"
"Right." Max snorted, but held up his left hand and wiggled his remaining four fingers, "Lost my pinky about nine years ago. Hell if I know where it went, but we roam a lot. And no one's come looking for me, and since they got that fancy DNA now and all…"
"Safe to say it won't ever turn up." Mike nodded agreeably. "So what happens when you get cut open?"
"It just means I wish I paid more attention in Home Ecs, but we do alright. Scrap carries my needle and thread. He used to be able to sew me back up so long as I threaded the needle, but his paws these days are too rusted…"
"Well, you ever pop a stitch in a hard to reach to place, I'll lend a hand. We could always try gluing you back together, maybe." Mike smiled conversationally, as if the grotesque subject was about helping a kid tie their shoes and not…what he and Max were discussing.
"Uh, yeah." Max watched Mike finish off the last of his chow, and wondered not for the first time where the dude put it all. Scraptrap had a hollow leg but this was getting almost ridiculous. "Yeah…thanks, Mike."
"Don't mention it." was all Mike replied, shrugging as he stood with his paper plate and napkin and wandering off to dump the garbage.
The good news was, Mike had effectively gotten Max's mind off his worries. The bad news, however, was now Max had more worries to worry about.
Namely, the strange warmth in chest that came along with interacting with this weird and over friendly night guard. Max was starting to think the man wasn't faking it all. That he was actually this nice, this easy going. He didn't know why, but the thought scared him worse than the incorrect comparison to his father.
William Afton he could deal with. Mike Schmidt? Maybe…not so much. Kindness didn't last long in this world, not in Max's experience.
Mike found Freddy without much trouble. He eyed the smallest dining room's neat and tidy appearance as he wandered over the threshold.
"Looks good, Faz." The man congratulated, "Feel better now that it's all ship shape? No more collapsing tables or chairs?"
"With any luck." Freddy grunted grimly, though Mike saw those blue glass eyes twinkle. "Course we're in short supply of that these days…"
"Still in one piece, though. Erh—Max aside. So far so good, I think." Mike said. "You or Bonnie wanna come with me? Foxy and Chica checked the back alley. Nothing's out there, so I'm gunna take some time to play test that Fruit Maze game before the sunsets."
"It's nearly there now, Mike," Bonnie retorted with a look as he finished setting down the last reinforced table. He shooed Helpy away from the area with a warning thump of his big flat feet. The little bear scattered cheerfully and toddled toward Mike, arms up and beaming.
"…okay then I'm gunna play it as the sunsets, I dunno." Mike held up the boy scouts signal, then bent to scoop Helpy up like he wanted. "Told you I'd asked before getting into something potentially dangerous big guy, didn't I?"
Because he could see those eyes darken the instant Mike brought up the subject of his testing the games. No, he didn't blame the big old bear for his fear, but he also wasn't about to risk them getting kicked out before Opening Day. If nothing else, what would happen to Max if he did? Inside his soul, even Gold agreed in concern over that. They weren't good odds, and something in Mike's gut didn't want the kid meeting Henry alone.
"Fine, son. A quick test." Freddy acquired with a tired, fatherly sigh. "And we reserve the right to unplug the blasted thing if it starts doing something to ya."
"…fine, but at least let me get to whatever secret it might try to share with me first?" Mike frowned. "It could help us, yanno? I learned that stuff about Max from Midnight Motorist. I think I can learn some more, if I play my cards right. That's the plan, anyway."
"…never stop, do'ya son?"
"Nope!" And with that, Mike strode off, not before setting down the now squirming little Funtime Freddy model, who scurried off on his heels in delight.
"Now I ain't no head doctor, but if you ask me, that boy's butter has slipped off his pasta." Freddy drawled finally, well in earshot of their night guard who snorted in laughter.
"Ahh, gotta hand it to Mikey though, his plans rarely let us down!" Bonnie reminded cheerfully.
Fazbear allowed his best friend a slightly sour glance, but said nothing. After all, Bonnie was right.
They followed their kid to the main dining hall.
"Hey Lefty, see any spooks or ghosts?" Mike asked the inactive bear cheerfully as he strode by the stage. He'd started gentle, friendly prompts just to see if that would elicit some response from the oddly slouched, shabby black Freddy model. And, truth be told, Mike was so used to talking to animatronics he didn't really think anything of it. So he didn't stop even when his friendly openers got absolutely no where each and every time. He didn't take it personally, it was almost kind of nice to have just a normal animatronic standing around, not violent or haunted or nothing. Not that Mike wanted to lose his family, of course. But it was hard to explain. He just knew he liked Lefty enough to not really prod, and if the bear didn't work opening day, maybe Henry would let poor Foxy on stage? He, after all, did still respond perfectly to kids and loved telling them tales.
"Didn't think so." The night guard snickered to himself when Lefty's answer was silence. "Keep an eye out~ Uh, no offense meant."
He heard a light chime behind him and grinned, tossing a peek at SP's closed box.
Fruit Maze was right where they had left it, just to the left of the grand ball pit and the first in the strange and shiny-new lineup of games. It was wide and tall where the others were somewhat squatter, and deep midnight blue, with bright orange-yellow font. There was still a sheepishly wide gap where Midnight Motorist had sat, and Mike wondered briefly if there was a reserve arcade game they could get up in time, or if they'd have to simply scoot the machines already in place—what few that could be moved anyway. The Rocket Ride wasn't going anywhere, it had to be bolted to the floor. Candy Cadet hadn't moved or done much either, but Mike decided to fiddle with that strange little animatronic later.
Mike jabbed a quarter into the coin slot, and waited. Beside him, sweet-natured little Helpy wandered around his legs, poking around behind the Maze game, then out the other side, then toward the ball pit. He turned occasionally, but didn't seem too interested in what Mike was up to for once. Bonnie wandered up not long after the loading screen flashed away.
And, at first, nothing much seemed strange or unusual at all.
"So, what," Bonnie demanded after a few moments of watching over his shoulder, "It's just a Pac-Man knock off?"
"Looks to be that way. Just gotta move the little pixel girl around the screen…grab the fruit…oh, I guess the slug is a bonus? Lightning bolt power up made sense, I dunno how a slug works into the game..."
"Weird." Bonnie offered, and then admitted, "…sounds silly, but the player looks familiar. I mean—s'hard to explain. Maybe I'm just seeing things."
"Maybe." Mike spared a glance from the screen to grin at the purple bunny. "Long as you're not hearing things to…no offense, Bugs, I trust your ears more than your eyes these days."
"Yeah, I do too. Can't say I hear anything weird. Music's kind of sour sounding, but that could just be the game. I don't think it's gunna bother kids. Doesn't really even bother me." Bonnie lapsed into puzzled silence. "Course, I didn't hear anything weird coming from the race car game either, and look what a loop that threw you for."
"I don't think there's anything wrong with the Fruit Maze game." Mike supplied helpfully. He ran the character in one final lap around the edges of the screen, collecting fruit even as he kept a now trained eye out for dead pixels or little oddities. Freddy lumbered lazily up behind them both, but since Bonnie didn't look alarmed, neither did he.
"Nope." Declared Mike as the game finished and he won. He stepped back, hands on hips. "Well, that's one for 'no' at least. Not haunted or glitchy. Only critique? Not super original—but what is these days—and music is a little off key."
"Good." Freddy grunted. "Bon, go see what Foxy's up to. He's been acting jumpy all week."
"Yeah, and he's usually the most even-keeled of all of us! 'Cept maybe Sis…" Off the purple bunny went.
Freddy noticed Mike's narrowed, thoughtful gaze on the now dark Fruit Maze game and eyed his boy.
"Now what, son?"
"…dunno. Just…gives me a weird feeling." Mike dug out a second quarter. "Lemme play it again. Just once more. I don't think there's anything but if there is, wouldn't it be a little hard to find? Maybe I missed something."
"…maybe." Conceded Fazbear, though he kept his tone from being accusatory. "But you remember what the Puppet used to warn ya."
"About doors?" Mike chuckled.
"About going into the dark looking fer trouble. S'a sure fire way to get Trouble to come out of the dark, looking for you."
"Funny—sounds almost exactly like something Henry told me when we first met." Mike nudged the bear's big side warmly, smiling when he was tolerated with a warm huff. "Just keep an eye on me, Freddy. I'll be just fine."
"I always do, son."
"Are you lot quite ready?"
"DUNNO BOUT THIS, BOSS-MAN. WHATCHA THINK'S GUNNA HAPPEN TO US, GOING AGAINST EGGS LIKE THIS?"
"They're right, Daddy. They couldn't even do it when I was with them."
"That is precisely why they couldn't, Henrietta. Now keep quiet, and stay at your post."
Springtrap swayed his towering frame around, eyeing the corded mess of Funtimes and grumbling small critiques and insults to himself.
"…I don't expect much to happen. I certainly don't expect you to best that damn night guard. But you're not going over there to kill him, you're going over there to scout the place out. Do you understand that?"
Molten Freddy lapsed into uneasy silence, but finally nodded. Every inch of them screamed reluctance and regret.
"Good. Get on with it. Remember all that you see. Look for weaknesses, find the blind spots. Every restaurant has them."
Molten Freddy slithered and threaded its way out of sight, and soon, was gone.
"…they never listen, Daddy. They're going to engage with Eggs, you know that?" Circus Baby kept her tattling in for about forty seconds longer than William expected. Even Springbonnie was impressed, but stayed silent, most of his concentration on their current task.
"Let them." Springtrap scoffed, rolling his eyes as he lurched back to his work. Rockstar Freddy's twitching frame spat some bolts of light before rotating unevenly. Beside him, Rockstar Bonnie was trying to lurch from his stage port, his eye sockets rolling creepily, as whatever was puppeterring him seemed unsure as how to proceed yet. It was taking a lot to get them powered up, but until they had some souls to speed the process along…
"They're out dated pieces of equipment anyway. We've got our new show-stoppers right here, Henrietta…" Afton purred silkily. "And they're going to be marvelous."
Freddy glared at Mike's second play through of Fruit Maze.
"Seems the same as it was before, Michael." He remarked, then looked away in boredom. "Finish this level, then get a bite to eat, I can hear yer stomach growling from here."
"Sure thing, big guy." Mike hummed, and if he were a Bonnie model, he might have noticed the low tilt to the young man's words. As it was, he was distracted for a few seconds, because Helpy had launched himself into the ball pit and somehow managed to scatter some balls despite the high netting they'd stretched around the area.
"Darn little pest…" Another glance at the screen, which looked the same. Just as they thought.
Freddy lurched the short distance toward the play area; kicking a few rolling balls back to their home and ordering Helpy to collect the other ones that had shot farther.
"And don't you miss none, neither!" He warned strictly, before turning and stomping back toward the arcade line up and where Mike was standing.
"Don't get what you see in that fellow, son." He growled conversationally as he turned his attention fully back on their kid. "Least Toy-Me is somewhat stable—if nothing else he takes orders from Blu better."
But if Mike had any wise-acre remark about Toy Freddy and Toy Bonnie's odd reversal of the usual Bonnie and Freddy roles, he said nothing. Which was odd. One of his rounded ears twitched at the deep buzzing note from the arcade machine, and Freddy quickly glanced at the screen.
It was the same as before.
So why didn't he feel like he was seeing what Mike was seeing? Everything about this felt off. Wrong. Had it been like this for long? Why hadn't Mike said anything? …maybe he couldn't.
He'd been right there in danger, and Freddy hadn't noticed a thing. Hadn't been able to help him.
"…son?" Freddy's paw clapped the man's bony shoulder and gave him a good jostle. "Michael. Look at me."
Mike's slack fingers slipped from the controls when the lead animatronic shook him a second time. The little pixel character across the screen, however, kept moving along the maze as if something else was controlling it. Alarm flared in Freddy's chest and he snarled, grabbing hold of Michael when he suddenly slumped completely forward, glazed eyes closed and lifeless. The only reason he didn't smack head first into the cold glass was because Freddy had caught him quickly.
"Michael!"
By now, Bonnie had heard the commotion and he and Foxy were moving back into the dining hall.
"What's goin' on?" The bunny demanded in his young voice, his cherry optics landing on the crumpled frame in Freddy's protective hold. "Awh, fudge, did it get'im? Make that two creepy arcade machines!"
"Get over here!" was all Freddy commanded of them both, and he guided Mike's frame into Bonnie's grip, moving back toward the machine and wrenching the socket from the wall.
"….still goin', Cap'n." Foxy informed unhappily. He glanced all over, even uneasily at the stage for some reason. "We better not press it too much. Might get the lad stuck somewhere…he, he can't get back from."
"So we're just supposed to sit here and worry, Foxy?" Fazbear barked back. He glared at them both, and then noticed Bonnie's ears and head were turned toward the back wall.
"Now what is it?" Freddy growled at his best friend, and he had to call the rabbit twice more before Bonnie snapped his attention back to them.
"Take Mike," the purple bunny urged instead, "I'm gunna go check something, Fred."
"Bonnie—"
"I'm pretty sure it's nothing! Just stay here." Despite his limp, the bunny was off.
"C'mon, Cap'n, let's at least get the lad comfortable." Foxy urged, though he looked unhappy when Freddy choose the stage of all places to stretch Mike out across.
"What?" His bark had died down thankfully, but he still shot the pirate fox a confused grunt.
"Ah…Jus' worried, Faz, is all. Have ta' wonder what he's seein', yanno?"
"Ah'know." Freddy nodded unhappily. He didn't like looking at the way their lively and energetic night guard's head lolled on the stage, nor how he didn't respond when Freddy passed a gentle paw through Mike's eternally messy brown mop of hair.
"Wherever he is…let's just hope Fredbear's with him…"
"Aye," agreed Foxy, and he took the moment when Freddy wasn't looking at him to glance up where Lefty towered over them all on the stage, not four feet from Mike's body. The lazy and single eye was sliding slowly to look down at the three of them. But mostly on Mike. The jaw widened, ever so slightly.
"Let's hope someone's with him."
Mike squinted through the darkness he'd woken up in, grumbling when the cold poked through his skin like tiny needles, and iced along his spine. He panted, rubbed at a shoulder uselessly and turned in place.
Lots of dark. Tall walls. High up, not even Gold would be able to see over them. He thought he maybe heard carnival music, somewhere behind him—or was it up ahead?—but he couldn't place it exactly. It was too slow, and drawn out. it was familiar, but only for a second. Then the memory faded away, like the ocean boring at a sand beach. He tried to be alarmed, he really did. But then that faded too.
"…hello?" Mike waited. Nothing. With a minor flare of alarm, he realized Gold hadn't answered him either.
"Well. This isn't good." he remarked slowly. "…anyone?"
He walked forward. Around a corner. Another corner. A long stretch.
It was almost like a reverse of the maze that was Pizza World, instead of chrome and HandyUnit bother him constantly with its inane commentary, and no Funtimes stalking him.
Still, Mike didn't like it.
He saw a flash of pink slip around a far corner and he perked up.
"Hey! Wait!" Even without Gold, he didn't feel winded when he took off after the inch of dress he kept catching hints of. So he couldn't be that cut off from the spirit of Golden Freddy then, not if he was still feeling the physical boosters and stamina the ethereal machine granted him.
"Excuse me? Wait, please—" Nothing. Though he caught sight of yellow curls, there was nothing in this maze but him and darkness.
Something shimmered beside him, catching his eye. It branched straight ahead, swaying just enough to tint off of some strange and unseen light source that came from far above them.
They looked like marionette strings.
So Mike followed them, and wondered why his heart hurt when he eyed them. The thought and worry was gone the second he had time to think them.
The music was still all around them, never getting farther or closer away. But it was getting slower, and that was setting off all sorts of alarm bells in Mike's head.
He rounded another corner, noticing a lack of dead ends the more he followed the endless strings that skated ahead with lazy sways.
"You hear that, dude?" Max eyed the kitchen door that emptied into the back hall that would lead to the dumpsters at one end, and the interrogation room at the other. He took an unsure step toward them, then waited.
Scraptrap lurched up behind him, always a perfect step behind, and rumbled in confused agreement. He did.
So Max glanced at Chica, who was across the grand kitchen and focused on her work, her back to them. Deciding he'd earned a short break from relabeling frozen hunks of mystery meat, he slunk out the double doors and into the dimly light hall. And at first glance, nothing was amiss. He almost turned around and headed back in, chalking it up to stress and paranoia—except in this line of work, paranoia meant you got to see the sunrise.
There it was again. A latch, a slither of something. A skating sliiiide of metal along concrete. Max swallowed dryly on reflex.
He was only a little surprised when Bonnie suddenly came up on his left, though he was relieved to not see Freddy following behind.
"So it's not just us." Max remarked with uncertainty. "That hears that…whatever it is out there."
"I hear it too, kid." Bonnie replied. "You might wanna Suit up. It sounds big."
"It sounds familiar," Max corrected, then frowned and stepped back, motioning for Scraptrap to release his springlocks that kept his suit stapled shut when he was hollow and they were separate.
"Yeah?" Bonnie kept his ears and eyes trained on the bumping and scrapping noises, politely not watching Max and Scraptrap rejoin. The sight gave them all the willies. Suits weren't meant to come apart.
"Yeah. Looks like Molten Freddy's not as harmless as we thought." Max explained in frustration.
"Oohh, peachy."
A low thud and slither sounded before them. The interrogation room door shuddered. Even Bonnie leaned back in unease.
"Long as that creeper doesn't get out of there—" They watched the door buckle and thin fingers try to push under the small gap at the bottom, scratching along the tile a few times as they raked to find purchase or push through more than just a wiry servo.
"Wrong." Max, now Scraptrap with bright, supernatural glowing purple eyes and all, stood beside him. His voice was a little muffled.
"There's a vent up by the corner in that room. Leads to…actually, don't know where it leads to." Max considered the wall that jutted to their left, the way Bonnie had come. "With our luck, probably the entire restaurant."
"No, but Mike would I bet…" Bonnie's ears sagged. "Cept he's checked out again. That Fruit Maze has him…he's not even responding to Freddy this time."
"Is he okay?" Max asked, and if he sounded alarmed Bonnie made no remark on it.
"Well he won't be if Molten Freddy gets at him—and if you think you've seen Fred ticked before, ohh just wait. He'll make Nightmare look like a stuffed teddy bear."
The door was no longer being shoved and thudded against. In fact, there was silence in the room.
Suddenly, above them, they heard the heavy weight of something large dragging itself through the paneling. It sounded like a boa constrictor had gotten in, and it sounded ominous.
"Brilliant. He found the vent." Bonnie groaned, both Bonnie models looking up as they tried to track it.
"Let's go," Scraptrap urged in Max's voice, and they started for the hallway to the supplies room.
"Right behind ya, Scrap. Let's see what you and that Springbonnie are made of!"
"Tougher crap than those four for sure!"
Mike stared at the thin string that was vanishing through a wall. He doubled checked it. Then tested the wall, pressing his weight on it. The string slipped from his fingers like water or sand, and it remained stubbornly vanishing straight through the impassable wall. It was this way, or no way, it seemed to warn.
A dead end. Mike shivered at the analogy.
"Awesome." Mike sighed in frustration. "Think Schmidt, think…"
His right hand groped at his side.
No flashlight.
"Can't make a door."
No Gold.
"Can't break it down."
He checked the impressive height.
"Can't go over it."
He eyed the way he had come. He studied it, but found nothing remarkable about the other pathways. He'd stopped bothering to check them after walking for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only twenty minutes. Wherever he was, time passed differently here. Still, maybe he'd been relying on following these strings a little too much?
"One open mind sees more than two open eyes, right Mari?" Mike slunk back the way he had come. There was another branching route, with no guiding string, and he took it this time.
He eyed the little ugly purple pile of something that was waiting for him in a corner and snorted.
"C'mere, you." When he went to pick it up, it vanished. But when he tested his hand through a nearby maze wall, it sank through with a chilly ripple.
"Gotcha." Mike hurried back to the where the puppet string was turning into the wall, and pushed through the grey section.
A flip of lovely curls shot out of his peripheral, and he turned and followed. She had started missing some fruit, and he wondered briefly why.
Mike eyed the red splatter of small footsteps.
"…ugh. Okay."
The music got ever slower, and he passed a bunny poking out of its burrow once. It looked vaguely like Plushtrap, but without the hint of warmth along the edges of its optics, and with no deadly teeth. Something about it seemed so sinister, and Mike noticed the strings bent around it anytime the two got too close for its liking. Like the two refused to engage with each other.
He passed it a second time, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling growing in his chest.
On and on he walked. Above him, those familiar and yet brand-new silvery strings swayed softly in the cool night wind.
Freddy became aware of the thudding and slithering about the same time as Foxy did, and the two of them stared up in growing agitation.
"…don't think that's me first mate, Faz…" Foxy drawled slowly.
"I'd give my top hat for it to be her, Foxy." Freddy growled irritably, backing up until he was against the stage and stretched a thick arm over Mike's frame. The night guard was still wholly silent, lying on his back, but every so often his fingers or lips twitched, or he'd utter a small whimper. Despite Freddy's best attempts and instant comforts, the night guard couldn't be woken, and eventually Faz had given up trying.
"S'not Afton to lurk up above." Foxy mused as he paced along the trail of eerie and peculiar noises, listening intently.
"It's not," Bonnie chimed in as he, Scraptrap and Chica entered from the kitchen. Cakey was on his plate, and he too glared with adorable tiny venom at the noises up above.
"It's Molten Freddy," Scraptrap—Max, that is—filled in quickly. "All the Funtimes except Circus. So that's…one less problem to deal with."
"Four of 'em still? In one body?" Freddy demanded.
"Yeah but he's not exactly put together too well. Uh, physically or mentally." Max snorted, and then his glowing eyes fell on the unresponsive and somewhat ashen Mike and they widened in another bolt of alarm. It was earnest and uneasy and Freddy actually allowed the Suit to approach them to see the night guard for himself.
"You stay outta trouble, boy." Freddy warned once he was in range. "Help us defend the restaurant—"
"All you care about is Mike." Max corrected, and oddly he didn't sound too sour about it. Just matter of fact enough that it actually caught the stern looking bear off guard. "This isn't your restaurant, this isn't even the diner. Call a spade a spade, Freddy, you want him protected more than any building."
"Lad's got ya there." Foxy remarked with a dry hint of amusement.
"Then help us do that, and stay outta our way."
"Yes'sir." Max mumbled.
Above the ballpit, the ceiling paneling suddenly started to sag outward. Molten Freddy was checking something up there, but before anyone could move, the ceiling smoothed back up. The scuffling started up again.
And then the claws started sliding down from the vent directly over the stage, and the obnoxious giggling could be heard. A beady spot of orange light swung into view as the Funtimes started sinking down from the vent.
"WELL WELL WELL, LOOK WHO WE HAVE HERE! THE BIRTHDAY BOY!"
Foxy leapt to the stage in the time it took for the exposed head to recoil, pulling itself up out of range of that swinging, deadly hook.
"AND HIS LITTLE BEAR, TOO!" Funtime Freddy's savaged and whining voice sang in delight, but began to fade. "THE WHOOOLE GANG, BACK TOGETHER AGAIN! WE'LL HAVE TO FIND ANOTHER WAY IN~ THERE'S SOOO MAAANY TO CHOOSE FROM!"
"Does he mean…?" Chica started in concern.
"Need a damn map of this place," Freddy complained as he eyed the other three vents that could be spotted in the grand dining hall.
"There's one on Mike's computer! But it's in his office…dunno if splitting up is the best idea right now." Bonnie replied with a sag of his ears in concern.
"No, bad idea." Scraptrap agreed as he paced uneasily.
"Helpy, stay away from there!" Chica snapped, shooing the confused and hapless little bear away from a vent as a set of reaching fingers curled in the place he'd been.
"RATS!" The servo sank backwards out of sight.
Freddy, realizing talking about their plan was only going to give away their position easier, silently motioned for the gang to come in closer. He directed with a strict paw and nodded, and with a chorus of agreement the Fazes split up but lingered on the outer edges of the vent openings, out of sight of anyone trying to peek through. Their best bet was to get the jump on the creature, and pull it from its hiding spot. Foxy hopped off the stage and choose another vent, leaving the one above the stage for Fazbear, who kept his eyes trained on it.
Max lingered in the middle, waiting to dart in the direction that he thought Molten Freddy was going, trying to listen to the thudding and clanking.
There was noise over by Bonnie's vent by the Rocket Ride game, so maybe that was—
Max looked over to Freddy when he heard a moan, but it was only Mike. The problem was Freddy's focus was on the night guard now, he'd looked away from the vent. The slithering was over there too, somehow, which of course didn't make sense.
Unless Molten could split up and still move with some independence, like a two-headed snake, if he kept one of those dangling eyes on one end of himself, and the rest on another than—
"Freddy, look out!"
Because, in that instant, there was Molten Freddy, a bit thinner than before but still most of its bulk snaking downwards at Freddy's back, and Scraptrap barreled in, tackling the ugly monstrosity across the empty stage and away from both Mike and Freddy, who'd stooped on instinct to shield Mike from the spray of startled and shrieking cording.
"NOOO FAIIR!" Molten Freddy crowed in anger and disgust as it writhed and fought back. "TWO BIRTHDAY BOYS! CHEATER! CHEATER!"
Because, in that instant, Max made a choice in a moment. He hadn't really needed Freddy to threaten him over protecting Mike. He'd have done it anyway. And so he did.
The car alarm was starting to give him a damn headache. And the tiny little corpses of cats he was passing were making his stomach sick. Squinting through the darkness trying to spot the puppet strings was making his eye burns. His legs hurt from walking so much. His muscles protested from how tense he kept them. And, really, this just wasn't Mike's day. But at least he was having a better day than the cats. Or whoever the cats might have belonged to.
The music was just about obliterated at this point, and what little he could make out seemed distant and sluggish as he felt now. His footsteps were red now too, leaving slicked boot wedges along the ground, showing the way he'd come anytime he had to double back to find a slug to get through a barrier.
And then he was out. Uut of the Maze. Into the…night? Maybe? A breeze whistled. He thought there was a big square building somewhere to his left, but he couldn't be sure. It looked familiar, almost.
Mike glanced warily around at the parking lot. Where was…?
Beside him, a little girl sniffled and hiccupped, her pink shoulders shaking and little curls bouncing as she cried. Mike's heart squeezed, and he tried to turn to comfort her. He couldn't move. There were marionette strings slithering around him now, a lightly constrictive hold that pinned him in place, and every time he tried to struggle the concept and muscle power died down in him.
But something on her other side could move just fine, and it did, lurching from the shadows like the boogey man come for a visit.
Mike eyed those impressive yellow ears and the dark hollowed eye holes and tried to growl.
He's not really dead.
"Nn," Mike managed, instead of screaming no like he wanted.
The little girl turned to regard the leaning Bonnie model that was smiling down at her.
He is over here.
Now it was pointing, straight ahead where in the distance Mike could make out tire tracks, red of course, and another corner that was made of bricks and mortar. A single lamppost flickered tiredly. An alley.
Follow me…
Mike hissed in anxiety, forced to watch the strangely familiar little girl slip off after the purple man in the yellow costume.
When they got to the corner, Mike was seeing double. Well, not really. There was still only one little girl, with one little set of tiny red footprints.
But there were too golden bunnies now. Both had sickeningly violet shades bleeding from their eyes, and Mike's fear broiled to anger and betrayal.
Dad…stop…she doesn't…
But the second and slightly smaller Springbonnie wouldn't look anywhere but down, ears drooped, head hanging. One of its arms was bent the wrong way. Mike understood and instantly felt bad for his previous accusation. The second Springbonnie shook its head and backed shakily up into the alley just as the little girl's crying turned to screams and a paw closed down on her shoulder—
I'm sorry—I tried to stop him—But every time he—
She was wrenched hard, back into the darkness, and the screams stopped.
'Two down, dear night guard. One to go.'
Mike felt himself waking up with two thoughts. One being, what did the voice mean 'one to go?'
And the second being, 'That voice. I know that voice.'
'Yes. I know you do.' the voice purred soothingly. 'I'm sorry you won't remember this, Michael but—good night. Or…would that be…good morning?''
Light erupted across his vision, blinding him.
I'm so sorry.
Molten Freddy twisted and uncoiled, colliding rapidly with the green and yellow cracked up and sealed together Suit. They'd used all their force and momentum to do so after Max's initial attack, knocking into the combined heads and cackling when the Suit swayed with a dangerous teeter from confusion and dizziness.
"KNOCK KNOCK!" It screeched in delight, digging claws into seams and tugging as Scraptrap and Max howled in rage and pain. "LET US IINNNN~"
"Go to hell!" Max yelled instead, trying to throw themselves back and rip Molten away at the same time. There was a horrible sound of joints popping, both Scraptrap and Max's it seemed, but the teenager struggled on, Scraptrap growling in defiance along with him. Then the growls caved to a sharp, painted yelp, both human and machine as the old Bonnie model's hip joint finally gave way and they rocked forward, unsteadily tumbling deeper into Molten's horrible clutches. Molten just kept trying to claw and force their way inside.
"Hey, how long can they keep it together?" Bonnie demanded as he helped steady Foxy, who growled and tried to stop his swinging jaw. His lunge in to defend Max had only distracted Molten Freddy for a moment, and soon the jumble of cords was shoving him away.
"More importantly, what happens if they can't, and that lubber gets inside of 'em?" Foxy demanded of Freddy, who grumbled but hesitated.
"Freddy!" Chica saw their leader's pause and eyed him in shock. "We can't just sit here and let them hurt Max—"
That was about the same moment a chair cracked across Molten Freddy's head, sending the corded figure toppling and screeching, blinded and livid.
"I am so sick of being fooled by you Funtimes!" Mike snarled as he stomped forward, his arms lowering from where he'd lobbed the impromptu weapon with brutal strength betraying his lean figure. He stepped between the downed Springbonnie model and the Funtimes, creating a physical wall with his body. As if on cue the Fazgang moved too, creating a wider circle and blocking the exits after Mike jerked his head wordlessly at them.
Below him, Molten Freddy withered and coiled up tight, but more in fright than out of desire to spring at him, it seemed. The submissive posture only made Mike gnash his teeth and take a threatening step, and he was rewarded when Molten flinched back across the tile with a rattle of parts. Max's eyes were wide as he watched the scene.
"W-WE THOUGHT YOU WAS DEAD, EGGS—"
"I got better." Mike pointed with a low command in his tone. "Get back to the warehouse now."
"OH Y-YEAH? OR WHAT?"
His arched back to Scraptrap who was shakily rising from where they'd crumbled, Mike closed the distance with surprising quickness and grabbed hold of the few remaining circles of cording. He dragged the frightened animatronic in close, right up to his full height. Both eyes sizzled yellow and Mike hissed,
"Or the next controlled shock we give you will absolutely be your last. Understand?"
Well, Molten Freddy didn't need to be told twice. The monster scrambled for purchase across the slick tile, bolting between the opening Bonnie and Foxy made with a quick side step. The door banged closed as they retreated, not even bothering with the vents, but Mike glanced at Foxy.
"Make sure they get back in there." He commanded with an odd nonsense tone.
"Aye, lad." And Foxy was gone too.
Mike waited until his vision was normal, and not tinted with a soft yellow hue. It only took a second but he rounded in time to see Scraptrap wobble a few steps before sinking to the side to lean heavily on the wall they'd been cornered against.
"Max!" Mike said, darting into the Suit's space and pushing up under the nearest yellow arm. "Woah, hey—" He hushed.
"Take it easy," Mike soothed, ducking down to take more of the Suit's weight and offering what he hoped was a helpful smile, "I got'cha, c'mon."
"Where…where ya takin' us?" Max's voice was dulled and echoing, and he sounded tired and unhappy. The strange slur was light and for a moment Mike paid no attention to it.
"Parts and Services," Mike replied. "Easy, watch your leg guys...that's it, there we go."
Later, Mike would worry about how compliant and slumped the normally vocal and stubborn pair was being. Right now, all that mattered was taking care of them, not just because they'd protected him during the Fruit Maze incident and Molten's attack, but because it was the right thing to do.
And because despite how he was trying to hide it, Mike could tell Max was scared. He didn't blame the kid.
He half noticed his usual shadow dogging him, and hoped the two didn't mind. Judging by Scraptrap's hanging ears and those dim purple eyes, they didn't care who was following Mike right now, nor that Freddy would see them exposed and weakened and shaken. Mike tried to keep an eye and make a list of injuries, but it was hard to tell what was superficial and what might have gotten through to Max's skin, and so Mike gave up the quick triage and instead focused on getting the kid to Parts and Services like he'd said. Thankfully, it wasn't like they had to worry about Max bleeding out.
'Small miracles, eh Mari?'
"Almost there," Mike grunted, almost forgetting to act as if holding up the Suit so they could walk was supposed to be exhausting. Gold had already bled through his muscles and boosted his strength and he was fine, but he didn't need Max to know that.
"Freddy, can you—?" Mike didn't have to finish his sentence.
A big brown paw obediently shoved open the door to the repair room and Mike hummed a note of grateful thanks as he guided the wobbly frame into the dark safety of the room.
"Thanks, gunna need some tools too…" Mike said as he eased Scraptrap slowly down against the wall and helped gravity slouch the Suit into place. A second later the bunny's chest began to pop and prick with a series of tiny unclasping noises, and after that the casing spread along the middle seam that made up the entirety of the old bunny. Max was exposed section by careful section, and Mike tried his best not to stare, but he locked eyes with the corpse and offered an unsure smile instead.
Max hesitated, but when he saw Mike's hand held out between them, he tugged his right arm free, and shyly placed his own purple one into the night guard's. He didn't really notice the quiver to it, and at first chalked it up the natural dip in adrenaline after a fight for your life. Mike certainly had his fair share of those; he didn't blame Max for being shaken still.
"Atta boy," Mike praised, and somehow it wasn't condescending, but warm and comforting as he helped Max slide his frame free. "You tell me what to do, and we'll get Scrap fixed up in no time, yeah?"
"I-I," stammered the dead teen, and Mike was on alert immediately. "Yeah… Scr-rap….Jus-s-t need'a sec'nd, Mi-ike-e…"
"Max?" he asked.
A low whimper was all that leaked from the kid's taught lips then, as if Molten Freddy had stolen his voice on him during his assault. His expression began to crack around the edges to expose something raw and young and frantic, and it made Mike's heart clench.
Mike switched his attention from Max to the slumped and frizting Bonnie model, who growled out a low note that Mike recognized as concern and fear as he regarded his Suit worriedly. Scraptrap's head canted toward Max, but his busted arm meant he couldn't reach toward Max like he probably wanted to. The slurring from Max didn't sound great, and the kid's chest was heaving but he didn't breathe so…was he having a panic attack? Could he have a panic attack? Did they happen often to the poor kid? Scraptrap didn't look surprised at this turn of events despite how quickly it seemed to have come on, and that worried Mike almost as much as what was going on right now.
No one wants to see a friend come apart at the seams.
Now wasn't the time to debate histories, of course, and surprisingly it was Freddy who grunted behind him in gentle warning when the night guard froze. Mike mentally kicked himself and he moved lower onto his knees, scooting closer to Max in the process. The night guard tired to appear less looming and motioned for Freddy to hit the lights. Scraptrap eyed them both but shifted to one side slowly, clumsily digging into his open chest cavity with a rotted paw.
"Max, hey, look at me—" Mike urged, and when Scraptrap nodded he reached out and gripped the kid's shoulder to gave a single squeeze. "Look at me. You're gunna pop a stitch doing that, right? Uh, or worse?"
….course, what was worse than being dead? Mike didn't think this was the time to find out.
Max made an empty noise, but nodded his head in uneasy agreement. Mike thought he felt the kid lean into his hold a little more, so Mike offered another gentle squeeze, trying to ground the teenager.
"Just try it slower, like this—" He offered slow, dramatic inhales and exhales of his own, "Try it, c'mon, you can do it…"
Slowly, so slowly, Max did manage it. It felt like hours for Mike, and it probably felt like years for Max. After several consecutive breaths that were more measured and less panicky, Mike spoke up again, quiet and assured.
"Tell me what you need, if you can. If you can't, that's okay too, just take your time, Max." Another thought struck him and he winced at his carelessness, and quickly tried to rectify it.
"Uh, we can go, if you need that." Shit, he should have offered that in the first place. "I don't need to be here if I'm not helping—"
"No!" snapped Max, violet eyes wide with raw fright so strong that Mike heard even Freddy shift uneasily. "Uh…n-no…can you just….can you…stay?"
Before Mike could answer something small and square was shoved into his lap, and he glanced down to see Scraptrap leaning back from where he'd somewhat sat forward, having had to stretch to drop the old walkman into his grip. Mike shot the green and yellow bunny a puzzled look. Then he saw the way Max's hands were trembling so bad, fingers scrabbling uselessly against his worn jeans, and Mike understood and softened.
"Of course I'll stay. Here," Mike offered quickly, keeping his voice soft as possible, and guided the orange headphones over the kid's head, keeping the cassette player safe before he pressed the play. The volume was low enough Mike couldn't hear whatever was in the dock, but he replaced his hand on the teen's shoulder and waited with infinite patience, walkman purring between them.
A glance at Scraptrap earned him a gentle 'rowwl' of praise, and a simple sign language gesture that even Mike knew meant 'thank you.'
"Don't mention it." Mike whispered back to the Bonnie model, and smiled when Scraptrap inclined his head gently.
Then the bunny was glancing behind him and Mike's old instincts poked his nerves. He shot a glance behind him, watching only the gentle swing of the door as heavy footsteps faded. Nothing else was there.
Freddy had left.
Mike sighed, and sagged closer into Max's space, offering whatever security and comfort he could provide with his taller frame. He rubbed a slow hand up and down the corpse's sharp shoulders and waited.
"S'gunna be okay, Max. You're gunna be okay." Mike spoke, noticing when Max guided half a headphone off his ear to take in noises aside from his music. Mike took that as a good sign and kept up his soft assurances.
"I promise."
"You don't…have to do this." Max, it seemed, had differing opinions than his bunny partner in crime. Still, his voice seemed weak, as if he was saying words with the hope Mike would ignore them entirely. Taking a gamble, Mike responded with honesty.
"You need help, Max. If I can give it, I will. It's my job, after all," And Mike managed a tired chuckle of his own, "I'm the night guard, remember?
"N-night guards…aren't like you. Yer…hero complex…" It seemed to be half gripe, half insult…and somehow half concession too. It was accompanied by the slow allowance of more weight toward him, until Max was leaning carefully on Mike's arm and hand a little, into the gentle motions of his hand.
"Maybe." Mike conceded with a gentle laugh at the kid's bite of spirit, even like this. "It's worked okay for me so far."
Max grumbled, but his fingers merely fiddled with the headphone cord, looping the black wiring around his fingers in nervous tugs and twists.
Mike watched in real time as the kid's heaves steadied, and began to melt fully away. In fact, his breaths began to gain large, impossible pauses between them, not just slowing but vanishing entirely. It almost alarmed Mike until he realized he was, technically, comforting a living corpse. It was easy to forget what Max Afton was, especially when he had died younger than Mike and was slumped against him meekly. Another flare of sympathy and concern flared for the teenager in his chest. The frantic gasping seemed to be a muscle memory that reared its way out when Max was in the throes of a panic attack. Mike filed that away for later and eyed the kid's hands—they shook, but far less.
Mike checked to make sure the walkman wasn't in danger of ending, no, plenty of reel left—and checked behind him again. Freddy hadn't returned.
He didn't blame the old bear, but he also knew they were going to have another talk soon.
Because not only had he learned something from the Fruit Maze game, but as he had woken up had seen that hesitance from Freddy earlier, when Molten Freddy was tangling with Scraptrap.
And he didn't like it. It wasn't going to happen again. Not on Mike's watch.
We all know that chime when Mike made the joke about Lefty's one eye was absolutely NOT from SP lmao. Also rip Max's nerves, goddamn. Poor kid. I mean I know I put him through it but still jeez.