Author's Note: Longest chapter so far, but I could simply not cut it anywhere that I liked. Well, more fic for you all anyway. Chapter title is from Days of Thunder by the Midnight. It is one of Max's main songs for this series, but it fits this entire chapter very well. Be sure to read this chapter's warning.
Warnings, as the fic continues to earn its rating: Minor/Major character deaths, violence at adults /children /animatronics, mild description of gore, and always, Horror.
If the living are haunted by the dead, then the dead are haunted by their own mistakes. -Anon
ACT III.
Chapter 18. When You Lose Your Wonder, and You Can't Remember
The problem was, Mike realized shortly after he reunited with SP, things were going too well. And had been going to well to almost-manageable for quite some time. And here at Freddy's, this was usually about the moment when things liked getting ugly. The most surprising part was that it wasn't even Circus Baby or even Afton himself that caused the issue.
The issue was little Security Puppet, who'd started acting strangely about ten minutes after she returned. He had zero idea why, and even Gold couldn't help him puzzle out her sudden change in behavior.
She gave a rolling, twanging note noise of distress and shook herself out. When she tried leaving out one of the vents—a vent Mike checked and saw was absolutely going to lead the little animatronic into trouble bigger than her—he instantly darted halfway into the opening, grabbed her round the slender middle and reared them both back to what he assumed—and had been—relative safety.
He was wrong, naturally. His luck wasn't that good.
"Woah, hey, hey! Hey—SP! Hey now, take a breather," the night guard hushed. Springtrap may be missing an ear but even he had better hearing than the other nonBonnie models. He didn't need to give Afton ideas about the little puppet's flightiness, and try to use it against them.
Her bell rang at a higher note of distress, one Mike had never even heard from the original Puppet, and trembled unhappily. Still, after a second she remained, bright white optics locked onto his own, seeking comfort and safety. He wasn't sure why, but he provided it nevertheless.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Mike tried. "I'll fix whatever it is, sweetie, I promise. But I can't fix what I don't know—"
She folded herself up small as she could muster suddenly, as if his words had hit a sore spot. SP pressed into his chest and calmed only when his arms encircled her.
"Hey…" Mike tried softly, and then he heard it. He saw her tiny trembling finger reach then, slowly and shyly.
So soft and faint, but it made every hair on his body arch in alarm.
A slithering sound, soft and wispy. Something was moving toward them from inside the restaurant.
"Too quiet to be Molten…" Mike looked behind him, but saw nothing. He doubled checked ahead of them, then the door that led to the hall. Nothing.
A timid black finger pointed up, and Mike borrowed some courage from Gold to look up, up.
There.
Marionette strings were threading down through the small, tiny ceiling vent. The slithering sound was them brushing against the inner walls.
Mike swallowed, and held the little Puppet model tighter.
"He's not gunna get you." Mike promised her immediately, sliding until his back was to the corner of the small room and she was able to wedge behind him. The strings skated down more, stretching, seeking. "I won't let him."
His eyes swept the room, searching for something, anything.
Oh, right. Duh. He buried a hand into his pocket and tightened his grip round his prize.
"Sorry bout this Mari," Mike whispered, knowing he was taking a risk when the strings suddenly arched into his direction, as if lured in by the man's voice, or perhaps the call of its name.
He really did need to learn to stop speaking the dead's name so often, didn't he?
In a flash, Mike's Swiss Army knife appeared; he wrenched on the correct limb, and used the small scissors to bite down onto the delicate marionette strings that were inches from reaching his wrist.
The shriek that erupted all around them was awful, and Mike had to cover his ears, feeling SP's tiny claws dig into his back in fright. Her tiny chimes turned hesitant and hopeful though, because the cut strings recoiled upwards and vanished with a sharp swoop. A hiss of anger could be heard.
Mike watched the two ends he had cut off, shivering when he saw them curl up and lie still, like dead snakes or spiders. He tried not to stare at them, and certainly didn't touch them.
"His strings can stretch only as far as he can," Mike recalled, lips pursed in a thoughtful pout. He slunk into the rolly chair and began to sweep through the overlay of the screens. "So where are you hiding, buddy?"
SP shook herself out and floated back to Mike's side, hovering close. He decided to let her be the Puppet watcher, since she started reacting to him approached well before Mike or even Gold noticed.
He barely managed to fend off Afton from the left when Security bristled and scrambled to his other side this time. She didn't try escaping, but Mike turned to watch as more threads skated out from the gloom. He whipped out his one defense to cut them back and realized he couldn't.
There were too many this time.
And they'd braided together, thickening themselves up good and tight. Even if he could cut them down, he'd need bigger and eventually stronger shears. These little ones wouldn't work, but they would get him in close range of those reaching, creeping strings.
"Right. I taught him that." Mike moaned, and grabbed the alarmed puppet model before she could flee into another's jaws and be hurt.
The puppet strings arched like angry snakes and dove for them as Mike turned, shielding her in place.
He felt icy fingers stab between his shoulderblades, like the thin prick of so many needles. And though he cried out he tightened his protective grip, refusing to let her be taken or worse. SP stared at him in wonder, missing the way the horrible strings erupted straight through to the other side, and snared deep into her. Both of them were connected now. Perhaps that had been the plan all along.
Security Puppet yelped in fright, Mike's body buckled, and the world circled down the drain around them.
Darkness knocked on the door of his awareness, and when he didn't answer, it bashed it in and swallowed him whole.
'Two down, dear night guard. One to go. Here's the last clue I can provide. May it be enough. May you understand.
Oh, how he never wanted this.'
It was a horrible day for a party.
Sunny days were great for parties. Early mornings were too. But right now? At dinner time? What type of a party took place at supper? Twilight was here, and night would soon fall. Then, outside it was raining. The day's drizzle had erupted into a cheerful splattering. And outside was more fun, because playing in the rain was fun!
She ambled past the tables and chairs, ignorant of the decorations and the stilted, performing animatronics. They were as familiar to her as her own two hands, even though she hadn't made them. She had watched them be made, and that was good enough for her. She had special ones at home anyway, and these ones, they were too big for her. Theodore and Ella, Stanley were much friendlier than any of those towering, looming robots. Especially the scary fox and the loudmouth rabbit.
"Ya' think it's gunna rain all night, Mike?" her young voice asked, innocent and hopeful.
Mike stared at the young girl for several beats, wondering why her eyes looked such a familiar shade. Then he jerked, moving to answer when he heard his name, but…oh, no. Who was she talking…? Oh. Oh.
The teenager she was wandering up to turned, mop in hand and nudged his headphones down to hang round his throat. His eyes were warm and such a bright blue, and there wasn't a shred of purple or black stitching to be seen on the kid. The young man shot the little girl a lopsided grin, shrugging. He was pale and had a pimple or two but the high tops were familiar—admittedly much cleaner and bright. If nothing else, the new, shiny yellow and black walkman hooked to his belt certainly gave him away.
"If it does, I'll be cleaning up mud until I'm ninety years old." Mike was so startled to be staring at an undead, barely fourteen year old Michael Afton that he almost didn't catch the rest of their conversation.
"What are you listening to?" she asked after a tiny giggle at his lament.
"Foreigner." He shimmied the mop handle to one elbow and dropped the headphones on her mouse brown hair, they barely covered her hears without slipping, and her small hands rose to steady them.
"They're loud." She reported, a critique and comment all in once, and he laughed as he took his headphones back. Her small nose bunched up.
"Bonnie like's em." Max said.
"Bonnie's loud too." She scoffed, as if this were the bunny's fault. This made the teenager snicker under his breath.
"I think Henri's in the back playing with Art, don't you wanna join em?" Max attempted, bless his soul. "They're probably playing 'hide Uncle Scott's favorite pen and watching him lose his mind."
"They're babies. I'm not a baby anymore." The little girl corrected so sternly, making Max's pale freckles scrunch when he smiled again but wisely didn't argue. Some things you didn't argue with little kids over.
She giggled back however, her cheeks flushing like cheeks are apt to do when someone we have a small crush on is giving us Attention.
Mike caught himself smiling too, then realized why everyone looked so small. He glanced down at his two big, golden flat feet and then let Fredbear look back up, lifting and dropping his mike as he performed.
Mike watched.
"Can I go play outside?" The young girl hedged, using a light and airy tone of someone who is trying to impress sugar over the fact their question is likely gone sour, likely forbidden.
"Erh…look, Charlie, I dunno…Uncle Henry's still out." Max shifted uneasily under her baleful stare up at him "Dad's gunna be back shortly, I think…"
'Is she…?' Mike wondered. 'Huh. I didn't know Henry had any kids.'
"Please?" She begged. "I'll stay right outside on the walk, in the big window! Pleaseplease?"
Somehow, Mike knew where this was going. Call it night guard's intuition.
He could see the gears turning behind the poor teen's face. How tired he was as he drooped on the mop handle that supported him, the way his eyes were hollow and exhausted. How his tight gaze shifted across the customers. There was a waitress here or there, but no one really on the floor with him.
She didn't ask for much. She wasn't as bossy or troublesome or as….well, needy…as his real siblings. Will and Henry had been partners for years, the two families had begun to blend. That was only natural.
And Michael was the oldest. The one left in charge whether anyone liked it or not.
And while she was good natured like Arthur, Charlie was absolutely more adventurous and cheerful than the gloomy little kid. She went from shadowing Michael like a little duckling to trying absolute avoidance, embarrassed and torn. He politely ignored her tiny crush, like Uncle Henry advised, but he did see her as another little sibling. She was cute, and really was one of the easiest kids to babysit.
And he liked spoiling his little siblings sometimes, when they earned it.
"…you stay right in the front window, Charlotte." He relented, snorting at her cheer and absolute mad dash for the coat room and her rain boots.
"And take a spare with you! Stupid door keeps getting stuck…"
It was unlikely she heard his warning about removing her green band, but he sighed. Ah well, if nothing else, the new little Security Puppet needed the test, and Charlotte was a smart kid. She wouldn't leave without a key.
Mike eyed the dining hall. It was late at night, almost no patrons. A few children milled about, but the parents were in corner booths, chatting and eating. The birthday girl for the day was playing one of the ring toss games with some friends.
She was out the front door and into the storm by the time Mike realized there was no guard on duty.
'Oh, god.' Mike moaned, but no one heard him. Fredbear and Springbonnie's show was too loud.
He blinked, and the world sea-sawyed out from under him again.
'Do not let your assigned child reach the EXIT.'
The phrase flashed, continuous and cemented within its coding.
Stay inside.
Stay inside the restaurant.
Stay inside the box until.
Stay inside.
'Do not let your assigned child reach the EXIT.'
The new hour came.
Check?
The soft rustle, the gentle lift of the lid, the little pinprick eyes boring from the gloom.
Checked.
Satisfied, it curled back into the darkness.
'Do not let your assigned child reach the EXIT.'
The sounds of young voices and pattering of feet circled all around it, and above that the sounds of distant servos, and above even that, the drip-drip-drop patterings of rain. That was outside the restaurant.
None of these sounds interested it; certainly none of them were worth paying attention to.
The bell over the door tinkled and ringed, on and off again as it always did.
A new color was added to its security line up.
A few were taken away.
All of this was Normal. Familiar.
A chorus of voices entered.
"Are we in time for the party?"
"Sorry we're late—here hun, go give these to Janice, tell her Happy Birthday,"
"Gosh, what a wash out it's been! Where can I set these presents?" an embarrassed laugh, "They should probably dry out first…"
"Oh, anywhere, I think there's a pile started by that big one—Samantha, sweetie, no climbing on the stage!"
"Isn't that Will's boy? He's a good kid, but he's certainly got his hands full corralling the children…perhaps we'd better help him."
"Come on kids, to your tables, the last show's about the begin!"
"Can anyone lend me a comb…?"
"Of course, let me just finish stacking these…perfect! Coming!"
Lots of noises and sounds today. It paid them no mind.
'Do not let your assigned child reach the EXIT.'
Check?
The restaurant was less full, but still busy. Still Operating Hours. Still a job to do.
'Do not let your—Warning: Inquiry. Green Band #28. Location Undetermined. Locate immediately. High priority.'
It moved into action, sharp and healthy to push off its box lid and seek and find it's—
Thunk.
Warning: Inquiry. Green Band #28. Location Undetermined. Locate immediately. High priority.'
Yes! It knew! But it's box wouldn't open!
Thunk! Thunk!
The sound of the show was louder than its pushes, and certainly louder than the rain outside.
Or the tiny fist pounding on the glass.
Some kids squealed in delight, the Fazes broke into chorus.
THUD!
It rose out, sweeping the area as gift boxes tumbled.
'Located: Green band numbers: 3, 8, and 11. Searching….'
Over to the left. Behind the big glass window. Green band #28.
'Located. Attempting retrieval.'
It cued up its canned speech, walking on thin legs toward the window.
Its cameras whirled, firing connections across its systems. Mapping the direct route around the obstacles in its way to the green band. Had it been outside for a while? Why hadn't it noticed? These were confusing questions to ponder, especially when one couldn't think beyond 'DO' and 'DO NOT.'
It headed for the door.
But it was so slow.
The owner of green band #28 had decided to try round the back, fighting against the sleeting rain to go pound on the back door by the kitchens. This was a good idea, in any other time, on any other day.
Car lights flashed around the building, vanishing as something sped behind the building at just the wrong time.
'Located. Attempting retrieval.'
'We shouldn't go out in the rain.' Mike tried to tell it, wondering just when he'd been able to speak, if he had been able to this whole time.
Either way, it didn't matter. This wasn't for him to change, only see.
'We need to find Charlotte though…' Mike did agree with that persistent pulse, though. 'She couldn't have gone far.'
The rain wasn't so bad. At first.
'Located…Attempting….retrieval.'
But within a couple yards around the side of the diner, the rain was rapidly becoming an issue.
'Turn back. For fuck's sake, they never thought to program you to avoid the weather!? Go get Max!'
Mike felt like he was watching a horror movie, the way he felt helpless and unable to stop the past from reciting its solemn and ghastly tale.
'Loc8t3d…8t7em6tin9…attempt…ing…'
The good news was they did find green band #28.
The bad news was how they found the child that was still wearing it.
'Oh, god.'
Mike closed his eyes, hating how it felt to still feel the SP's busted and frizting body drag itself resolutely forward along the asphalt. How it wouldn't turn it's cameras off the crumpled, bent up body of a half flattened little human being. Pebbles dug into its wrists and knee seams, rain splattered and trickled and stuck into its delicate frame. One of Security Puppet's cameras died, the wiring shorting out and cables getting too soaked to function.
And the little girl was far, far worse.
Bad enough that SP slipped on something viscous and dark just below the child's body, spreading across the tarmac. Red smeared on its black and white frame as it crumpled forward, doggedly reaching its prize but finding no more strength to go on. Its body wasn't listening to it anymore. It couldn't leave the band, the child, here. Lost children needed to be kept happy and protected. This was its Main Directive. Warnings and malfunctioning parts speared its optics, making Mike dizzy as nausea covered the rest.
'Are those…tire tracks…?' His racing mind pieced together, because he couldn't bare to watch a child's life bleed out below them and instead focused on what was just past her small shoulder.
She was so small, and so young.
She didn't stand a chance even if they did make it out here with the cavalry. She'd still end up dying, wouldn't she? Oh, god, he couldn't believe he was even trying to weigh the options here. All of them horrible. In this case, at least she wasn't alone in her last minutes, even if she didn't realize it…
That wasn't a comforting thought, but it was the reality.
Mike closed his eyes, trying to block it all out.
'Holy fucking shit. She was just a baby. She never got to live a goddamn life because a monster…'
'That's correct, night guard.' The voice crept out to him from the darkness. Thin little spider legs curled around his wrists and arms, traveling up his shoulders. As if trying to comfort and soothe. 'Because of a monster.'
Mike held his own breath when he heard the tiniest little rattle of air he ever had from below SP's buttoned chest. He turned him into cold ice and he shivered, feeling the systems of the once shiny, immaculate little animatronic begin to shut down and fade out.
That lilting voice kept talking, as if to anchor him closer.
'How are monsters born, do you think? Are they born from fear every time? No, Michael. Some monsters, the worst of them, I'd wager…
…some monsters are born from grief. And sometimes grief can make you feel as if…well, I won't repeat myself. I know I do that too much.' There was a laugh, but it was tried and strained, as if someone had wound a music box just a bit too tight.
Mike didn't answer, he just cried. He cried because little Security Puppet was not able to, because it didn't know the meaning of the word and likely wouldn't for a while. And he cried for young Charlotte, who would never get the chance to cry again.
And maybe, just a very small part of him, cried for Henry too.
'She was, technically, the first. But unlike Arthur…unlike the others…unlike me, she wasn't forced to stay.'
Mike cracked crusted, salty eyes open, and sniffed. The room wasn't hot, and yet it wasn't cold either. His head throbbed, and he felt the phantom shiver of cold tap on his spine as the events of the past trickled into his brain. They wormed down deep, festering and horrible.
'M'cold, Gold.' He whispered, and sagged in relief when the spirit of his Animatronic began to warm him from the inside out. 'Thanks.'
Gold soothed him back, easing the ache in his bones.
Mike was on his side on the floor of the Office. Security Puppet was curled up the same, her petite frame pressed forward and under his heavy arm.
They were mimicking what he had just witnessed, and it made Mike's heart break all over again.
"Oh god, did he get you…?" She was so still. He shook the small joint ball of a shoulder.
SP's optics twinkled to on, cycled through her band colors, then winked to white. She chirped up at him, sounding bewildered but perfectly unharmed.
"Thank god," Mike breathed, falling back to lean on the wall as he gave her room to untangle herself and float back up. "Charlotte…? Are you…in there?"
SP eyed him as if he'd just sprouted a second head. Her black finger tapped her chest gently, as if to say, 'I'm me! See? The Security Puppet!'
Mike sighed.
"Okay, Security…okay." Mike studied her closer, then let Gold surge forward to get a good look of his own. "Every haunt can be different. That's an old lesson I had to learn the hard way. Maybe this is your normal. Arthur was younger than you, and it took me weeks before I saw him enough to say so."
SP's bell tinkled, politely befuddled but willing to let the strange man ramble.
'Faint. There.' Gold rumbled.
"There's something else I'm missing." Mike whispered, half to her and Gold, mostly to himself. "But at least we got some more answers."
He searched his memories.
"Sometimes grief can make you feel" Mike tried to recall the rest of the Puppet's warning. "As if you'd split in two."
Now, what could that mean?
Max squinted with mistrust and disbelief into the hollow, glass optics.
"…I think he was pulling our leg." Max draw back with a grunt and leaned into Scraptrap's side. "This was all some joke or trick."
Scraptrap shrugged, but he didn't make the motion for 'fox,' which is what he usually did when agreeing to a trick or prank, or mentioning Alexander—their most infamous resident trickster. At least, he used to be. Lately the Puppet seemed into pulling shit.
"We wait any longer, Dad'll come looking fer us." Max mumbled, letting his head loll back. He did feel kind of funny but nothing remotely close to what he'd been led to believe. He certainly could walk and talk fine if need be. Whatever he had that counted for his adrenaline was usually pretty reliable, it was only the deep cold temps that slowed him down or made him freeze from stiffness.
Hard to move a corpse in the cold, after all.
Max peeked open a hopeful eye, but saw nothing that alluded to any progress.
He let the lid drop closed and sighed.
"Wake me in ten." He grunted at his partner. Scraptrap purred and watched across them with interest. Max could sleep if he wanted, but this…this Scrap had to see.
The Past, 1986
"Michael?"
Michael opened his eyes, blinking as he sat up and drew his attention from his English homework. Funny, he thought he heard Uncle Henry calling him through his headphones. But his music was always kinda loud, and he thought maybe he was just hearing…
"…yall'right?"
Okay. Now he was sure that was…
But it was deeper. And a bit flatter, almost as if the owner of the voice was still learning inflections and statements, and…
Michael turned slowly in place, almost afraid to be too hopeful.
Freddy Fazbear stood on the stage above him, head craned down and ears lifting slightly when he recognized Michael's attention finally on him.
Bonnie and Chica watched intently, huge ears shifting and dexterous fingers curling round the cupcake's plate.
"Freddy?" He breathed, almost too amazed to manage any words himself.
Fazbear immediately blinked at his name, head correcting back to its original position, and a second later the bear's head tipped forward, once. A nod.
"Michael." Having mastered one word, Freddy seemed to settle on it quickly. "Doin', yer…? Doin'?"
Ah, Freddy didn't have the 'word' for the action he saw yet. No matter, this was still progress. Michael was delighted. Finally, Freddy was off script. He was trying!
"Homework." Michael filled in, blurting the word too fast. Freddy cocked his head like he did when making a show on stage to listen for Foxy in his cove. "I'm doing homework. Writing an essay. See this? I write and—Freddy, holy shit, you're talking!"
There was a word the bear did recognize, and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Michael." He spoke again, the tone flat and apparently Freddy's attempt at strict and scolding. "Language. No. Bad."
Michael's cheeks flushed, and he chuckled. "Sorry, sorry. That was definitely Dad. I know, for every bad word, I put a buck in the swear jar."
Freddy's mild glare lifted up to something nearing happiness. Freddy seemed pleased.
"Good." He grunted when the teenager apologized.
Chica gave her noise for a giggle and Bonnie glanced at her.
Homework forgotten, Michael stood and lurched gangly limbs free from the bench as he hurried up the stage. Freddy watched him all the way.
"You're talkin', Fredman! You did it!" Michel cheered, "C'mon, say something else? Whatcha got fer me?"
Freddy lapsed into what Michael hoped was thoughtful silence.
He lifted his paws, bending thumb and third finger to show the kid the first thing Michael had taught him to say.
"Peace…n'love." Stated Freddy Fazbear.
"Yeah!" Michael laughed, the sound echoing throughout the restaurant. "Peace n'love, man."
Max frowned when a heavy paw jostled him, a bit too rough for his liking. He swatted at his bunny's paw, then turned and buried his face into Scrap's worn side, humming softly.
…wait.
"Wake up, son. Ain't no time fer lollygaggin." Advised an old southern accent.
"Maybe he died?" guessed a younger male's pitch.
"That's not very nice, Bonnie." Chided a cheerful, much more feminine tone.
"Crying Lad was right, boy really do sleep like the dead, don't he?" Followed by a squawk. "Aint no one asked you, bird! Blast, can aye get this thing removed, ye think? Rabbit, hand me that mallet."
"No way, I think it looks great!"
"Course ye do, all yer taste's in yer mouth…"
"Boys!"
He was crazy. He was. He had to be. But those voices. There was no way he'd…
Max turned as he opened his eyes, pressing warily into his bunny's side to ground himself and for protection. Just in case this was it.
The Rockstars stood before them, bright and alert and brand-spanking new. Their optics blazed with life, each of them bickering and playful and alive. No, not alive.
Animated. Living.
It was the original four. Returned from wherever the Puppet had stashed them.
Max gaped at the Fazes' new bodies for a long while, to the point even Freddy chuffed in amusement and reached out again. Max flinched, but froze when that big paw did nothing more than ruffle his hair.
"Get them bangs outta yer eyes." Freddy rumbled. "How can ya see like that?"
"How else will the world know he's a moody teenager~?" Bonnie teased, his bucktoothed grin wide.
"Best close yer jaw, matey," Foxy warned with a sly look, "Else fishes gunna come along and jump on in."
"Awh, it's okay, Max." Chica cooed. "We know this is a lot, and we know we haven't been very kind to you since you returned. We're sorry, because we should have apologized too."
Everyone looked at Freddy then, who had fallen silent as the corpse had. Both watched each other warily.
"…she's right, boy." Freddy finally spoke. "Ain't Faz to take all that happened out on you. You were just a kid, back then."
"He's still a kid now," Bonnie muttered, falling silent when Chica elbowed him, but Freddy eyed him and then nodded.
"Perhaps that was our fault too. We…I…wasn't there ta protect ya. From what I shoulda." Freddy Fazbear admitted, then nodded his head sadly.
Max frowned, feeling his throat clench up into a knot.
"…t-that stuff wasn't your fault, Freddy. It wasn't. I didn't blame you lot. You guys weren't even alive then, y-you were still just AI's." Max croaked, hating how his voice skipped. But it felt so tight all of a sudden, and he felt his body begin the act of crying minus the tears. "And when I took you guys apart, and didn't let you get at Dad…I was just trying to do what was right. That's all I ever wanted…"
But then history happened. And lies and secrets, and so many things kept in the dark. Henry's daughter going missing. No one would so much as speak of her, let alone talk to Uncle Henry about it. Like she'd never existed. Dad's drinking getting worse, the secret in the corner of his eyes like he was hiding something. Arthur's last birthday party. The Haunting. The Pain, the Anger. The Marionette and it's venomous desire to protect, to own. To Give Life. Then Michael ran, and when the Fazes were put back together—as everything always was at Freddy's when the damn Puppet was around—they woke up alone and haunted. William was gone, yes.
So was Michael. He wondered for the first time, which was worse for them. He realized now it wasn't all about his dad, but about him too. How they'd loved him, even before them knowing what love really was.
And he'd abandoned them. All because he was trying to outrun his dad's shadow that kept coming up behind.
It was just them, in a new restaurant with a new stage but the same old horrors. Scott was there, but he hadn't survived those long five nights. He turned into nothing more than that guy-on-the-phone, a failed attempt by the Puppet to find yet a new protector. A watcher, a waiter, a listener. A judge and jury all in one. They were night guard-less, driven mad by William's equally mad brother. History repeated itself as if wound like an old grandfather clock. Even after the mantle under it broke and decayed, that clock kept ticking.
Waiting.
He didn't blame the Fazgang's anger at him, especially when he returned.
It was time to stop running, Max decided in that minute. It had been for a long while.
Now it was time to stop, to turn around, and to fight at what was coming up behind him.
"I wanted to come back but I was scared, I knew what I'd done, how I'd screwed you guys up." Max shook his head. "I'm sorry, Freddy, I'm so sorry…"
Freddy broke him off with a nod.
"Ya did just fine, Michael Afton." Freddy offered then. "Ya put the Purple Man away, ya did what you thought was right. That's all anyone can do."
"But it didn't take, he came back." Max sniffed. "He always comes back."
"Then we try again. We try…one more damn time. Fer keeps." Freddy's brand new paw settled heavy and protective on Max's shoulder, squeezing just so. Warmth blossomed in Max's chest at the touch. "This young punk I once knew, he taught me ya can do anything ya put yer mind to…so how bout it? We takin' that boy's sound advice, Michael?"
Max swallowed, exhaling a dusty, soft breath that he didn't need to do anymore. But the action felt good. Felt Alive. His bones warmed from Freddy's touch.
"…yeah. Yeah, we are. One…one more time." And then the teenage corpse grinned, and it was razor sharp and dangerous. "Just….one thing, Freddy?"
"What's that, son?" Freddy paused, ears lifting like he did when he put his full attention on someone. Some things never changed, it seemed.
"Call me Max."
And yet some things did.
The strings never returned.
It took Mike twenty minutes to realize that, and he wasn't too proud of such a fact.
Worse, it took him over half an hour to realize he was no longer being hunted.
"…think Mari got those two?" Mike asked little SP, who shrugged and eyed the door as Mike tested it.
They peeked as one into the hall. Nothing. Silence. That didn't bode terribly well. But Mike's curiosity was aflame, and he was exhausted from sitting around waiting for the monsters to come to him. It was about time he went to the monsters.
"…stick close, SP." So far she still didn't answer to Charlie or Charlotte. She didn't even recognize the name. He didn't have time to wonder why. To be fair, the other animatronics didn't answer to their ghost's names either, with exception to perhaps one.
'What I wouldn't give for you to come back, Arthur. Your Puppet needs your kindness.'
In place of Arthur, Mike wondered what else could work on freeing the Puppet from Henry's control.
'What do I even have left? The Fazes are gone. Afton's out for me, and Max still…'
'Got me.' Gold rumbled, trying to soothe.
'Yeah. I got you, Goldy.' Mike sighed to himself as he slunk toward to the grand dining room. 'You're pretty good.'
The best, in fact. Mike couldn't think of anyone more nobler than Fredbear's spirit.
He didn't include himself, because for as smart as Mike Schmidt was apt to be, sometimes we are incredibly clueless when it comes to ourselves.
"…coast's clear. Get in your box, SP. Wait for my signal."
In a blink, she vanished.
'Is it just me, or is she moving a little better, Gold?' Mike mused. He blinked when there came no answer but a growl. '…Gold?'
Mike's eyes slid across to the far end of the room.
Framed by the double doors, stood Henry.
He was no longer leaning on his cane. The show was over, after all.
He smiled at Mike, the look dark and expectant.
In a swirl of harsh, golden light, Mike vanished.
Golden Freddy towered in the place the lean man once stood, nearly eye level with Freddy over on the stage despite being on the floor. He rumbled, and leaned his bulk a bit, testing his limits as he settled into the world.
"There is my Fredbear. You look so worn, so empty." Henry's voice was poison, but sweet like icing. "No one will bother us right now. The Aftons are hiding like usual. It's just you and I. And our little friend of course. He misses you. Look how old you've gotten!"
The bear's jaw worked, and his eyeplates lowered, making him grin ferociously.
'NO OLDER THAN SPRING.' Gold warned. Henry's look darkened, a shadow swept over his features. Then it vanished.
"I know." Henry sounded hungry, eager. "I know, Fredbear. That's why I need you back. Come here."
'BELONG TO THE NIGHT GUARD.' And then, incase the big brute wasn't clear, he declared, 'TO MY NIGHT GUARD.'
A dark, warning bark of a carillon sounded somewhere behind Henry. The doors wobbled inward in beat with the god-awful racket of bells, then sucked back outward and relaxed slowly.
'…what was that?' Mike asked, but Gold stepped forward, wondering himself. Having no answer, but knowing whatever it was, was Not Good.
"Ohh, temper, Goldy." Henry hushed, sounding mocking more than insulted. "I don't think our little friend likes such statements. Now, stop this nonsense. You're old, you're broken. You can't survive out here, without a Suit."
Granted, these were all facts. But Gold stalked forward, less with obediencey and more with murderous intent.
'YES. AND YOU? COME TO TAKE MY SUIT?' Gold demanded. 'AGAIN?'
Henry's smile slipped the second he realized Gold's movements were stalks of thinly veiled anger, and that the floor was shuddering with each powerful step. That his command wasn't be answered, but ignored. Gold was approaching because he wanted to, not because he was listening to his Creator.
'DON'T THINK I APPRECIATE THAT NONE, LITTLE MAN.' Gold caught the human in a tight paw and lifted him as if he were hollow inside, slamming Henry against the doors until the very building shook.
"Use your processors!" Henry seethed, sounding startled and livid. "Think what I can do for you! I made you—"
'YOU MADE THE MACHINE.' Gold answered, voice a thunderclap as the lights sparked and popped off and on, forcing his power heavier and heavier across the place.
Until finally, there, in the back of Henry's gaze, was fear. Primal, plain, honest fear. Fear for himself.
'YOU DID NOT MAKE THE SOUL.'
'…that's enough, big fella. You made your point.'
Fredbear's grip tightened, his jaw worked. How easy it would be! One big kiss and it would all be over.
But his Suit disagreed. His Suit was a good man, with a good soul.
…and his Suit always, always, had a plan.
It would be easy to kill Henry in the best way Fredbear knew how.
'…but then, what would there be of the Marionette to salvage?' Mike whispered, using Henry's own words to save him.
The massive animatronic huffed.
Fredbear let out a low note, a deep growl that reverberated like thunder all around them. His big fisted paws melted into themselves. Fredbear leaned forward anyway, letting his jaw loosen open just to see the man sweat and shrink away. But then he pulled deep into himself, his ethereal shimmer fading.
In Gold's place stood Mike Schmidt, who lowered the beaten old man down to his own two feet, eyes fierce and jaw tight as he let the old man go and balance onto his own two legs. Now he was using the cane, for more than show. His fear had curdled into surprise.
"You're a fool." Henry hissed at Mike, when his shock faded away.
"No. I'm just not a monster." Mike corrected, "And I am no one's weapon."
"What were you going to do, boy? Hug William Afton better?" Henry sneered. "Does your world go round on carousels and cotton candy? Are you so desperate to see the good in everyone even when it isn't there, that you'll get yourself killed over it?"
"This isn't about him right now. This is about you, Henry." Mike stepped back a bit, but stayed close, body tense and ready in case the man tried to flee.
"There's something you need to see." Mike corrected himself, "Someone."
Mike whistled, not taking his steely gaze off Henry.
An answering chime came from the box on stage beside Freddy. Little Security Puppet peeked out, then called back at Mike with a soft, questioning warble.
"Look at her." It was Mike's turn to command.
Henry glared at him in insolence, but grave confusion flashed through his dead, cold gaze. He barely spared the small animatronic a sneer, seeing apparently nothing of value. There was no flash of recognition in his eyes, and Mike's heart sunk. He rallied anyway. He had to try.
"What about it? That broken thing never worked. I told you that before." Henry hissed.
He had. But now, knowing all that he did, Mike understood what the man meant.
"She did work." The night guard corrected. "She worked exactly once, as a machine. It was there that night; it tried to save Charlotte—"
Henry lunged at him with a roar, hands round his neck, "DON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME OF THE DEAD, BOY! I'LL HAVE BOTH YOUR HEADS!"
But they'd done this dance before, and Mike was nothing if not clever. In the absence of Gold's lesser powers working on Henry, (and unwilling to become a murderer and lose his chance to save the Puppet,) Mike aimed his splayed fingers at the light fixture above them, forcing a yellow current of powerful energy that blasted it straight down. Mike ducked. With a terrific bang the paneling hit Henry so Mike could squirrel free and bolt away. He skidded on his boots on the linoleum, growling right back in defiance when Henry staggered up right and cursed him out.
"You're so blinded by your anger you're missing what's right in front of you! She's in there!" Mike defended, trying on more time. "I'm not going to lie about this, man! You could have your daughter back!"
"YOU ARE EXACTLY LIKE WILLIAM! THE PUPPET CHOSE WRONG TWICE!"
And at that, Mike did flinch, feeling a crack in his depths.
"I-I didn't mean—"
And that was about the time the tables began to rise, wobbling upright with a wave of the old man's pruny hand. If Mike squinted, he could just make out the glint of strings that bled backwards from his wrist.
"Get back in your box, Security." Mike urged, frowning when she out voted him with alarmed chimes. "Do it! Stay put until I tell you it's safe to come out. Trust me."
She whined, protesting to the very last second, but Mike closed the lid tightly and then flung himself out of the way of a flying chair. He watched it swing wide and completely miss Freddy or Bonnie. Strange. He avoided another flurry of paraphernalia and watched the way it circled around. Chica and Foxy remained unhurt as well. Rocket Ride was not granted the same safety, the ball pit's netting became tangled too as some of the swirling objects struck true on various targets. Henry didn't care if he destroyed his beloved, brand new restaurant if it meant taking out Mike. So why care about the original four? Why pull punches?
Mike felt a very dangerous thing flare in his chest, and his grin turned deadly.
"I knew he couldn't control you fully, Mari. Not you." Mike grinned and ducked again, whirling in place to face the old man properly. He forced away the wide sweep of a table with its legs out and let it splinter against the wall of golden electricity that speared from his palm. Sheltered by the invisible and powerful force of Fredbear, its Suit stepped forward in challenge for a third time.
"You're so sure you need Fredbear to take down Afton?" Mike demanded, stopping less than ten feet from the old man.
"Why, can't have a Bonnie without a Freddy, dear boy." Henry answered, sounding judicial and sane for a split second. And yet…
"Thanks to you letting the Marionette get killed, the balance of power has been shifting right back toward him. The first night guard."
"…certainly explains how William got his hooks back into Springtrap…" Mike admitted with a mumble. "…and the Rockstars moving on their own."
"I need big bait for a big fish, son. Even you can comprehend that old fisherman's wisdom, eh?"
Mike glared at the backhand, then frowned as something lurched and limped its way from Parts and Services.
"Oh, god…"
Lefty rocked unsteadily forward, swaying like a zombie, his broken jaw clapping against his chest.
"You've been waking up the dead too, Schmidt. Don't stand there and act so sanctimonious."
The many strings that stemmed from Lefty's joints waved through the air like startled, disoriented jellyfish. The old bear's eye rolled along the bottom of its socket. There was a tired chime, but then Lefty staggered obediently to Henry's side and remained silent. Waiting. Mike hated the sight of it.
Something in the back of Mike's brain flicked like a match and illuminated.
"…that's why you wanted Gold? To give to the Puppet a, what? An upgrade? To fix it? More power?"
Henry tossed him an ugly, hateful look.
"Return its power, really. You shouldn't be a night guard in the first place, you know. You're as much a screw up Michael was." Henry said by way of answer, rude and caustic. "He's useless."
"Don't talk about him like that." Mike snapped in irritation. "He was just a fucken kid, and look what he went through!? You blame him for her death, don't you? Where were you, huh? You sure as Hell didn't save him when he needed it! You let the cycle continue."
"ENOUGH!" Henry roared, "Puppet, do it. Now. You take back what's rightfully yours, and heal allll those cracks and dents and malfunctions. Then one by one you get the rest of them. Afton, his little brats. That was the deal. I held up my end of the bargain. I let you save that man's miserable hide. He survived Afton's Pizza World. We never made a deal that he'd survive beyond that."
Mike tore his gaze from the unhinged, hurting man to study Lefty's broken, hanging face. He could see it, if he tilted his head at just the right angle, if he squinted.
That porcelain mask. Moving in the dim, dark frame of old, innocuous, Lefty.
"That was you down there? Leaving those messages? The ones Danny used to find me?" Mike huffed a sigh, eyes wet and shiny. "Okay. Okay. I can take a hint. I know, Mari. You were right.
Some doors should never be opened."
He set the flashlight down on the table behind him, then stepped away from it, hands held out and up as he approached the seemingly shut down bear.
Mike glanced over at his coworkers, his family.
"…sorry, gang. I'm…I'm gunna…I'm about to do something that you probably won't like." Mike tore his gaze from Freddy's empty one and back on the darker Freddy model.
"Just me and you now, buddy." Mike coached, taking a careful step forward. He seemed relieved when Lefty didn't move or bolt. If anything, the old bear seemed to sway closer.
"No Goldy, no Afton. Are you tired? Are you scared?" Mike chewed his lip in thought, then took a breath and let it out through his nose as he kept his hand steady.
Mike brushed his fingers oh-so carefully against Lefty's broken jaw, and wondered if he didn't imagine the way the head bowed into his touch, just a little.
Neither bear nor puppet managed an answer, but he felt a shiver stretch over him. A cold chill settled on his sharp shoulders like an icy blanket, borne of fear and distress.
"…bet you are. Me too." Mike whispered, voice dipping low and hoarse as he readied himself for what he was about to do.
"I know this is all my fault. I know I screwed up. But I'm gunna make it right, okay? So just…you just trust me. One more time." Mike, now standing in the shadow of leaning bear, closed his eyes.
"I promise. Everything's gunna be okay." Mike whispered. "And I never break my promises."
He said a silent good bye, and cracked a smile at the warm, loving affirmation.
"Okay Goldy…you fixed me when I needed you. Time to…time to do that again." His hand sank suddenly, right through his own chest, and the man bite back a cry, curled forward on himself to keep his searching going. He knitted his glowing eyes shut, an electrical current hissing outward from him, harmless and faint. His legs buckled, but Lefty's hand shot up, holding him firmly. The grip shook, then tightened. Resolute. Protective.
Quite a bit possessive.
Henry stepped back, watching with detached amazement as Mike guided the glowing, golden orb from himself willingly.
A low, wrecked chime warbled from the bear's broken maw. Mike shushed the Puppet instantly, even as his panting turned to a tired wheeze.
"Hey…if it'll save you Marion?" Mike breathed to the silent and still Lefty. "Go on. Take him back. I'll be okay."
Lefty's free paw shook, refusing to open or reach toward him. There was a twang, a sharp chiming cry that lasted for a single note. Still, the Puppet refused.
"Do it, Mari. You saved me first." Mike shuddered, pulling the golden orb out until the thread connecting them thinned, pulled taught…and snapped.
And Mike felt empty for the first time in years. The orb in his hands shriveled in on itself, curling tightly in alarm and perhaps regret even as Mike's hands dropped away.
When Mike dropped to his knees, he also crumpled backwards. In time, Lefty suddenly dropped to, as if strings had been cut, or his inner scaffolding had been ripped out from his already rickety frame. He collapsed half over Mike, empty and hollow as an old costume.
"Tch." Henry caught the erratic, pounding glow as it stayed in place, eyeing it carefully as he forced it to stay trapped in his grip. Then he watched the way the shabby bear animatronic began to shut down with weak, defiant twitches, but stayed over Mike Schmidt.
"Almost as if he's trying to protect you." Henry marveled, then caught himself, shaking his head. "Ridiculous. This thing was never able to Feel, not like that."
Mike's unfocused gaze flitted to Henry at the words.
"What would you have done, Henry, if it was your best friend?' Mike let his head fall heavily back onto the tile, blood slipping freely from his nose.
"…What would you have done?"
The look the old man gave him was arctic.
"It was my best friend that started all this, young man. Don't you preach to me of consequences when you don't even belong here."
"Maybe…maybe it was him who fucked up. But it's your choice how to stop all this." Mike whispered back, pale and ashen. He felt like he was bleeding out and could do nothing to stop it. He was half aware of the thick paw that lazily moved under his head when his neck slumped back, and he hummed tiredly, feeling Lefty's frame collapse all above him, sheltering and safe. His neck was wobbly and he was grateful for the pillow of the animatronic's large mitt. Closing his eyes, ignoring all else, it almost felt like he was home in bed, lying under Mangle.
But it wasn't Mangle that was with him.
He heard a few faint, far off notes of My Grandfather's Clock, but Lefty's eye wasn't glowing anymore. And the noise sounded so drained, like Mike was.
"Hope y'know wat'yer doin'…" Mike forced out with what was sure to be his last breath. He was oddly at peace with that. "Gold's…we fix stuff. We don't break it…anymore."
"Good night, Mike." Was Henry's bored, unamused reply.
Mike's eyes rolled closed, his hand slipping off Lefty's shoulder as the animatronic slumped further, eye rolling emptily to the floor as both man and animatronic wilted into the floor and fell silent as the grave. Henry stood over them both, but spared them a tired, almost bored glance as he stepped back toward the double wide doors. They wobbled, straining against the lock as darkness began to seep and hiss.
"Looks like I get what I wanted after all, Puppet." Henry remarked casually, holding the glowing golden orb in one hand. He turned it one way, then the other, watching it pulse and surge but soon flutter like a trapped bird in a cage.
This was about the time the hall door finally burst open, Rockstars Freddy and Foxy backing off to let the others through from where they'd pounded the door down from its frame.
"Uncle Henry!?" Max staggered to a stop, the rest of the Fazes in their new frames and Springtrap and Henrietta spilling out into the room, all keeping a wary, mistrusting eye on one another.
But all eyes were soon on Henry, and the struck down frame of Lefty from where he lay, head lolled half off on its weak hinge and empty.
Lefty was empty.
"Perhaps this is for the better. It will make Michael feel like he was of some use." Henry shrugged, and it was honestly anyone's guess who he was speaking to. "Ordinarily, I'd be worried about whatever corruption that boy did to my precious Fredbear, but he's long gone now, isn't he? And I've got you, Marionette, all to myself."
Springtrap's good ear twitched, and he studied his old friend hard and carefully, as if just seeing him for the first time.
"Henry! You don't actually think this is going to work, do you?"
"The way I see it, if you think it's a bad idea, it must be something good." Henry just about purred, studying the spirit in his grip with less interest and more wickedness. "All this started by you trying to play God, putting things where they didn't belong. Now, here I am, just a simple man trying to put an old animatronic back together, and suddenly I'm the villain? I don't think so."
Henry opened his hand, watching the orb fly backwards into the slowly opening front doors.
But there was nothing outside them. No parking lot, no lights, no sky or land.
Just…darkness.
"If you want to catch a big fish, you need big bait. If you want to reel in a big fish, well…same basic principal." Henry nodded, as if offering sage advice.
There was a burst of light, fragmented and warped. The tendrils curled into one another and within seconds another concussive pulse sounded, sending a wave across the restaurant that made all the furniture and even the walls shake. Max and Scraptrap felt it immediately, and judging by the way the Fazes balked, they did too.
"Uh oh…" Bonnie moaned.
"You don't think that was…" Max tried, but Scraptrap shivered and pulled Max behind him, even as Freddy edged in front of them as well.
"He got Goldy…" Chica realized with a heartbroken whisper.
"He got Michael." Freddy rumbled, eyes widening as shadows began to ooze down the walls. "We need to move—"
"An'go where!?" Bonnie pointed out. "Henry just killed off the Puppet's freakin' moral compass! There's no where we can hide!"
Another tremor rocked the restaurant, lights popping and crackling as paint began to chip, and wallpaper began to peel. The carpet curled away from the edges, turning into a water-worn, soggy mess. The exposed wood went worm-rotted and gloomy. The speakers blew in a perfect row, making Bonnie and Scrap and even Springtrap flinch and cover their sensitive ears.
"What's happening, Freddy!?" Chica begged their leader, who was looking around in horror himself.
"It was just an illusion." Max answered, earning brief glances as they all understood, recognition dawning on their features. "There's no need to hide it anymore…none of this was real. It was just an old restaurant. Just a trap. For us, for Dad…for Mike."
And so it was.
"Ye stay behind us, lad." Foxy warned when they realized the true horror of the situation they were in. "We'll take care of ya."
Max peered out from behind the two animatronics sheltering him, ignoring his father's curse for him to follow and the way Henrietta was obeying already, escaping down the west wing of the old building.
"There!" Max pointed, because just under the Lefty's frame he could see a grey, lifeless arm, the watch and blue band just visible. "It's Mike!"
"Son—"
"Get back here, matey!"
But Max didn't let his fear or the warning words of his friends make him second guess himself. He slipped and skidded across the suddenly dull, warn tile and dropped to his knees. He pushed into soft black fur that crinkled tiredly, borrowing some of Scrap's strength to heave Lefty's still form off Mike and reveal the night guard's still body.
"Mike! Mike, hey, time to go, c'mon," but it was no use, no matter how much he shook the man's shoulder. This time Mike wasn't getting up, though Max was relieved when he felt the man's pulse, thready and weak though it was. Still, no matter what he tried, Mike didn't wake up or even stir, and he was so cold.
"Mike, please, c'mon, you can survive anything, you got Fredbear with you—" He hoped Freddy and the others were wrong, even as more darkness slipped around them and painted the air.
"Not anymore." His Uncle hummed, watching them both.
Lefty's crumpled, open form remained silent and still, but something black and jagged slithered along the floor, crept silently into the grand entrance as Henry stood, a patient and silent vigil.
The double doors rattled.
Springtrap growled but took a step back, suddenly all his attention on the blackness that engulfed the door frame with a moan of wind. Henry leaned heavily on his cane with a slow grin spreading, his eyes wide and empty as the night, as black, wriggling claws landed on the door and buckled the metal inward easily.
Something tall that those claws belonged to suddenly ducked under the door way behind Henry and staggered out, as if learning how to walk for the first time. It rocked on unsteady, long timberlike legs.
"Don't keep the Devil waiting, old friend." Henry murmured.
Two tiny pin pricks erupted by the top of the door frame, then rose beyond it to its full height.
The Marionette, the Puppet, the Black Devil. All grotesque and gruesome and so horribly twisted, nothing but slippery limbs and sharp teeth and a gaping, comically wide smile. It fell forward with another shaky, but unexpectedly confident step. It walked, slow and languid, with resolute purpose, smiling emptily at them all. They remained clustered together, frozen in the searching stare of the monstrosity. The too big white orbs, feverish and piercing, swung around the room, studying and scrutinizing.
Then its gaze fell on the closet two, right onto poor Max crouched warily beside the unresponsive Mike.
Numerous and thick stripped tentacles splayed out from its back suddenly, and the Nightmare visage of the Marionette screeched a bone chilling note down at them both.
Max scrambled backwards, hauling Mike's dead weight body with him. Luck was on their side, because Nightmaronnie landed clumsily and hard, not used to its size or strength yet. But Max knew not to rely on that luck for long—the Puppet was always thinking after all, and it could go anywhere.
"Oh shit! Ohshit," Max cursed, more than a little relieved when Scraptrap appeared on Mike's other side without having to be told and helped haul him upright. Max rolled out of the way of a thrashing, stripped tentacle and forced himself not to freeze when those blistering white orbs landed on him again, and the creature drew back up to its full height in rage and disgust.
Henry was only watching, looking impassive and unamused as the monstrous animatronic stalked after him and Scraptrap, trying to claw its way forward as it wobbled on slender legs. It swept another gaze at all of them, from Rockstar Chica down the line to Foxy, from Scrap supporting Mike to Springtrap, who'd shouldered his way back with a sneer, knocking into Mike, and then finally to Max and the little Security Puppet. Its fluid fingers curled and waved, as if trying to decide on something.
"Go on." Henry commanded, and the Puppet shrieked again and started for Afton himself.
"If this place is a just a pointless maze, let's use it." Max advised the Fazes as they broke off to the left, and he moved to take Mike's other arm and help his bunnybot. "There's only one of it, and seven of us!"
Everyone was surprised when the Nightmare creature landed heavily mid pounce and pushed off the old wall, shattering plaster in its wake as it skittered on all fours after them, reaching for Max this time.
"Nuh-uh!" Bonnie denied, stepping on the reaching fingers with a flat foot and snickering when the creature recoiled with a cry of rage.
"No use fer it, bucko." Foxy warned after they spotted this encounter, hurrying down the hall with the Nightmare hot on their heels. "Black Devil's gunna hunt n'kill down the nearest Afton it finds."
"I don't want Henry killing Dad and Henrietta." Max admitted as he ran, ducking round a corner and moving to allow everyone into the room with him. "I don't want him turning into Dad, you guys. We gotta stop him."
"Which means we have to stop Marion." Chica pointed out.
"That blasted little creature isn't going to be reasoned with, Michael." William snapped curtly, ignoring the growl Freddy sent his way. "Unless you have a better idea than dangling ourselves as bait?"
The spotted the open door to the largest supply room and filed in, slamming it shut and keeping the light off.
But then no one answered, because everyone went still and silent. Because Nightmaronnie could be heard, creeping its way down the hall, its off key music notes trickling.
"…actually, no. I don't." Max whispered after they heard and seen the Nightmare Puppet stalk its way down the hall. "Any volunteers? Or am I gunna get a sore back from carrying this fucken family like usual?"
"Watch your mouth, boy—"
"S'good advice, little man." Freddy gripped Springtrap's maw tight and let it give a warning creak, tight and terse. "Hear him out."
Springtrap pulled free and batted his paw at the Freddy model, eyes flashing irately.
"If you think I'm going to just—"
"Hear. Him. Out." rumbled the lead animatronic with controlled fury to match, and that seemed to shut Afton up.
"If Nightmare Puppet wants us, then I say we give him exactly that. But we'll need to be fast. And I don't think he'll care much about the original four, so we'll need you guys for back up." Max paused, sighing as he pushed Scrap into position against the wall and motioned for the usual.
Scraptrap released his springlocks with a series of clicks and waited. Even he looked surprised when instead of crawling in, Max guided Mike's body from Bonnie's hold and eased the unconscious man in. He didn't look good, but he was pretty sure Mike was alive.
'If I can put souls in bodies then I can put Gold back in Mike.'
"Son…"
"Trust me, Freddy." Max said without taking his eyes off his task. Mike was definitely taller than him, and while it wasn't any awesome fit, it would have to do. Scraptrap wouldn't break any records for speed, but that wasn't part of Max's plan.
"Get him to the Office. Take it slow. Don't let anything happen to him, awright?" Max pointed to the vent system. "He won't bother with you, not when he can have the guy who keeps you running."
'And the only one that can and will pull Gold out of it.'
Scraptrap whined dustily as his frame closed, but he stood, and then nodded solemnly.
"Why go to all this trouble just for Eggs?" Circus Baby suddenly spoke up, pushing her way toward her older brother. She blocked Scraptrap's entry into the vent with her own frame and half leaned toward it to prevent Scrap from escaping. "He's dead, Mikey, he's useless to us. Leave him here and let's fight our way out."
"Because that isn't fair to Mike, Henri, and you know it isn't." Max snapped, working hard to keep his voice.
"'What's fair to him!?' What about what's fair to me!? I'M your baby sister and you never liked me! You never ever treated me like that sniveling brat or that big jerk, all you ever did was tell me no and say I was too young for this, too young for that!"
"I was sixteen trying to raise you three, and you were always a Daddy's Girl!"
Scraptrap's ears pricked then, and he backed up slowly from Circus Baby as she ranted in front of the vent system.
"Get away from there, Henrietta—"
"Stay out of this, Father!" She shrieked, "I did all this, I did everything you asked me to, all for you! You said if I behaved he'd come back! Even still all he wants is to save that stupid little night guard! He's dead and worthless! You said you could make Mikey listen again! YOU SAID! YOU SAID WE COULD BE A—"
That was about the same moment black and white stripes erupted from behind her, giving a horrible warning rattle of eager excitement. Nightmaronnie's face blinked from the gloom as it rose half out, tugging and pulling hungrily as it worked its body through Circus Baby's already unstable, weather-worn form.
She screamed, thrashing and howling as she tried pulling forward but slipped off her skates, landing deeper into the Puppet's clutches.
"Daddy! Daddy stop it! Make it stop!"
Afton edged backwards, gaze overwhelmed and fearful.
"Henri!" Max lunged to catch her hand but was grabbed round his collar by Freddy, who didn't fight Max's squirm but whose sad and silent head shake made even Max stop fighting to rescue his doomed sister.
They all could only watch.
One of the Puppet's slithering hands curled over the top of her head, sliding down as her eyes began to glow. That hungry, gaping maw stayed frozen even as the Puppet's cracked face lowered over the Funtime model. The glow heightened, almost too bright to look at.
'Take. Life.' It hissed, smiling straight at Springtrap as it did so.
The light burst from Circus Baby's optics and rocketed upward, vanishing. When the Puppet's constrictive hold loosened and slithered backwards, her empty body dropped to the floor. Parts spilled forth, wiring and bolts hitting the ground. The sound of her body was hollow and heavy, and Max shivered and swallowed.
For a long time, no one moved. It was clear they expected to be set up again by the monster, and yet…they weren't.
It had vanished.
Lying in wait, like a spider watching flies from its web.
Playing with them, or perhaps returning to its master to show off its prize.
Hard to say, with the Puppet. Or whatever was left of the Nightmare.
"So…maybe don't take the vents, Scrap." Bonnie finally muttered awkwardly to the other bonnie model.
Scraptrap, still holding his precious cargo safe, grunted in uneasy agreement.
"…stick…stick to the plan." Max finally muttered. "Scraptrap? Okay?"
His bunny, brave and loyal to the last screw, nodded.
"…okay, gang. Here's our plan."
"Just like old times, eh lad?" Rockstar Foxy chuckled under his speakers as he dogged Max down the hall. "Well, maybe not exactly like old times…"
"Don't get me wrong, Foxy, I'm glad you're here. But we could use some of Al's sneakiness right now. He was great at that."
"Aye. But ole Foxy got a brand new Suit ta wear, and it be ship-shape." The Rockstar cackled. "And I ain't afraid of no ghosts."
"…you think that's all it is? Sure looked pretty solid to me."
"Puppet's acting off." The old pirate advised. "anyone can see it. Or maybe just ole Foxy can. Why stop at just one of us, eh matey?"
"Because it likes playing with its food?" Max grunted.
Then Foxy froze, straightening before he grabbed Max roughly round the middle and shoved him behind a row of dark, ancient arcade machines.
"Shh!"
"…damn Puppet." A voice hissed, and Max was startled to hear it was Henry's voice. The man strode sharply through the Arcade room, past the gloomy, busted games and tables that were once brightly lit, now covered in dust and debris. "I'll have its music box for this…tricking me into, of all the things to fall for—I'll have that little demon for kindling when I'm through with it,"
But then the man was gone, and with him any clues to what was going that they didn't know about. Something that had even conniving, old Henry alarmed and caught off his guard.
"…why's Uncle Henry sound so pissed?" Max breathed up at Foxy as he sheltered the kid quietly, listening himself.
"…dunno. He's knocked off two so far," reminded the pirate fox, meaning Mike and Circus Baby. "Only you two left, then us, o'course."
"…in any case, I think you're on to something. Puppet's not doing what Uncle Henry wants." Max frowned, trying to figure out how to use this.
"Course I'm right, I always be right." Foxy smiled with a set of teeth that would convince anyone of the exact opposite. "Just as me, I'll tell ya."
"Uh-huh, sure. …let's go, c'mon." Max whispered, crawling backwards the way they'd come. "And keep that bird quiet!"
When he and Foxy reunited with the gang, he was surprised to see his father there as well. Granted, Springtrap was off to the side and skulking, clearly upset about losing Circus Baby and obviously unwilling to mingle with the original four. The Fazes only seemed in agreement, and they took their glares off Springtrap but softened when his son walked in. Max felt his spine warm despite everything that was going on.
"Didn't find 'em." Freddy surmised with a nod. "Wull, this yellow belly didn't neither."
"I told you, I looked." Springtrap hissed at Freddy without hesitance. "Went as far as I dared, and I couldn't escape if I wanted to. The doors won't budge, and the flashlight's gone."
"So you did try to escape, then." Bonnie snarked, rolling his eyes. "Typical."
But that wasn't what caught Max's attention. His brows furrowed as he eyed his father, forever locked into the very first Bonnie model. He saw none of the man's usual ice and charm and suaveness when a plan was going his way.
"…you're not lying?" Max commented, not caring how rude he sounded. It was a valid concern. Foxy grunted his own agreement and eyed Afton with much as mistrust as Alexander used to give the man.
"…I can assure you I've no need to lie about my own mortality. The Puppet didn't find me and take the bait, Michael." Springtrap shook his head, one ear bobbing. "I haven't seen it since we parted from the Supply Closet." He paused, as if listening to something over his shoulder.
"I haven't heard it, either."
"Henry ain't none too pleased himself." Foxy suddenly cut in, with a low nod to Max who confirmed his gossip. "Seems the Black Devil's gone off their little planned script."
"Wait…if the Puppet's not chasing me…and he wasn't chasing Dad…" Max froze, frantically running over the last few hours. He was missing something. He had to be.
Why else was Henry so mad when he spotted him just now? Wasn't he getting what he wanted? Killing off the Afton line and stopping history from ever repeating itself?
"He went at you before though, twice! When ya went to help Mike and then when we ran." Bonnie pointed out with confusion. "And he took out Circus Baby in the Supply Closet!"
"We were in there for a while, though." Chica reminded quietly, sounding as unsure as her bunny brother. "Marion only actually appeared right as she suggested leaving behind any dead weight—"
Horrified, stunned recognition dawned on Max's face at their words. They'd stated the reasoning right there, and Max almost missed it.
"There's a pattern." Max breathed, whipping around to stare at them, to stare up at Freddy. "Mike was right—there's always a pattern."
Freddy perked up in alarm, following the teenager's train of thought.
"Cursed thing ain't huntin' you lot down!" The bearbot roared.
"It's been going after Mike!"
He handled the first hit alright, and the second. The third was a bit tougher.
The fourth slam brought him down finally, and Scraptrap slid down the wall, gritting his acrylic teeth as he glared in defiance up at the Nightmare that had slithered from the vents despite how hard he'd tried to keep them closed. Well. So much for that plan.
'I know who you've got in there.' Nightmaronnie whispered hungrily. 'And I know who you do not have. Open up…or I will make you watch as I tear your Suit limb from rotting limb.'
Scraptrap growled, leaning back but knowing he was trapped.
'Give him to me, or suffer the consequences.'
Scraptrap weighed his options.
Then he shook his head in refusal, and waited.
The good news was, he called the monster's bluff. The creature was too impatient and angry to go track down his boy. And likely even it knew four animatronics could prove a challenge it wasn't willing to risk.
The bad news was, he'd called the monster's bluff. Because when it wasn't getting its way, Nightmaronnie let loose a frustrated screech and lunged, full force.
It took the Nightmare less than seven minutes to rip open the bonnie model, forcing parts aside and tearing out cording and metal scaffolding he needed to function without Max. Scraptrap struggled, but then slowed, knowing anything he prolonged would probably hurt Max worse, even if they were separate. The monster paused, staring down to study Mike's relaxed expression, the way his lips were slack and purpling, or how his head tipped to one side. It hissed, as if angry just at the sight of the man. He gripped the front of Mike's shirt, lifting the night guard out with surprising care. As it did this, Nightmaronnie calmly told Scraptrap who remained slumped against the wall of the Office:
'You're all going to burn.'
…