Author's Notes: I want to take a moment to thank everyone for the reviews, kudos, and amazing support that this series had been granted. I read your reviews probably three times a week. I show them to my girlfriend, even to my mom, because she's my best friend and I've accidentally got her invested in the knight guard au too, and she likes to hear what you guys think of the ongoing events. (She was very upset when I toyed with the idea of killing off Mike in both Finding Freddy and Last Shift. You have her/my gf to thank for the other direction I'm taking this series in ;) )
Right now there's about, oh, let's say 2.5 chapters left of Last Shift (not including this one.) After all, what's an ending without an epilogue? And what's a FNAF fic without a teaser to the next part~?
Warnings: Major/minor character death, violence against humans, and always spooky scary skeletons bc this IS a ghost story
It's hard to wake up from a nightmare, if you aren't even asleep. –J.S.
Act IV.
Chapter 21. The Last Shift Begins
"You know, I never really got the chance to ask. How did you get Danny to even look for me down in Pizza World?"
"That was rather easy. What was more difficult was getting the flashlight to Fitzgerald's son in the first place. I barely had any power, even with your help and Henry's. I did worry it wouldn't work, so I added a little extra insurance policy to…tempt the boy." The Puppet floated in step with Mike, limbs ever creaking but glowing little pinprick eyes alert enough to put Mike at ease. Their tread down the hallway had been silent and dark so far.
"The voice message, right? At least you didn't threaten him." Mike recalled, then said with a slow, amazed smile, "I didn't know you could mimic my voice."
"Not just yours, night guard. I can replicate anyone's voice I've heard." The Marionette half bragged, half stated. "Where do you think BalloonBoy learned it from~?"
"Huh." Mike blinked at that. "Guess I figured it was factory on BB."
"For most of the nights the day guard worked there he did think I was you. It was comforting to know I hadn't lost my touch." Marion admitted with a lazy shrug.
"Why not just come to me?" Mike asked, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "Danny could have seriously gotten hurt down there, Mari."
The black creature gave a mechanical noise that equated to a sniff of disagreement.
"The boy lived, didn't he? It was a good test. Any guard at Freddy's worth their salt would have jumped at the chance to take one of my tests. I am known for my Gifts, after all." Marion paused, but despite Mike's critical glance at his words, the man said nothing. He could sense his friend was going to keep answering him, so he held out.
"And, well, because I knew you would try and keep me. Help me stay. I was already working with Henry by that point, Michael. We both know if just one thing distracted you—let alone a mystery involving me—you could have lost your concentration and died down there. Or worse."
Mike grumbled, but kept his gaze focused on the dark hallway ahead of them. Still, not all his questions had been answered. And with how solid and sturdy the Marionette seemed to be getting by the minute, the longer it stayed tied to Mike, he decided to capitalize on his best friend's return. Make hay while the sun shined, as Freddy would have put it. Hell, even Marion's voice sounded clear as a bell and twice as concrete. Keeping his eyes trained on the shifting shadows and fog just in case something was lurking in it, Mike asked:
"And…Springtrap?" Mike treaded through his words like a tiring swimmer. This was the important part, the part he worried and picked over like a scab. He needed Marion to confirm or deny his worries, because they wouldn't let Mike rest otherwise. "He helped Danny get down there. Technically, I'd be dead if he didn't. I know why Bonnie thinks he did it. To get to the Funtimes, to get to Circus. To hunt and kill again. But me and Freddy were never so sure. I dunno. Was he always going to…? Was Afton going to, I mean…"
"Always going to come back?" Puppet finished with its frank, direct tone. "Most likely. You spent a great deal of time with Springbonnie, but I don't think even he realized his Suit was returning until it was too late."
"Yeah…I did." Mike trailed off in thought. "He became my friend, y'know? He still is, but with Afton back…"
And for the first several months, nothing out of the ordinary had actually even happened concerning broken, beaten up, slightly singed-Springtrap. That was quite the commodity at Freddy's, having the ordinary be in place of the extraordinary. The damage done at Fazbear's Fright and the Puppet's deadly exorcism seemed to have been the trick to banishing cold, horrible William away for good. Or so they thought. Springtrap himself was entirely nonfunctional, but that frankly meant shit in his restaurant. He was also unresponsive, hollow, and empty. Gold and Mike both tried. It was only when they stopped trying and moved onto physical repairs that Springtrap booted back up, but remained calm and gentle. He couldn't walk, but didn't mind being stuck in Parts and Service. He said it made him feel more at ease. The little dark room was a safe haven, even. Mike spent the better part of those months picking out brittle, flaking pieces of a grown man's corpse. He checked and tested Springtrap's worse parts; the damaged joints, the faulty wiring, the missing ear, the busted spinal column. The years began to pass, the restaurant closed. Time marched on brutally on. Mike and Springtrap spent many nights talking until the early hours. He began to help Mike with the books, keeping what little income trickling in that they could, cutting expenses where Springtrap advised. And for a while, it actually more or less worked. What little Mike could do, he fixed. Freddy forbid him from fixing the bunny's legs though, because none of the Fazes trusted Springtrap and certainly did not want him anywhere near the floor, let alone the children. By the time the place closed, the point was moot. Mike did trust Spring, but even he had to respect his old Pooh Bear's wishes and left well enough alone. It helped that Springtrap himself seemed to side with Freddy. The fact Springtrap had been able to walk on broken legs by the time Danny woke him up in the search for Mike, meant that William Afton had been bleeding back into him bit by bit. Still, Mike's own handiwork couldn't be ignored. His repairs had allowed William to get away in Springtrap and hide until now. Until all this.
Mike had been driven by something older than him, and he never quite realized why, but right here, walking through Limbo to some unknown destination the Puppet was guiding him too. Mike found he had a moment to breathe, to really begin to mull it all over.
"It was…it was Goldy, wasn't it? That made me fix him up?" The ghost himself wasn't here to give him an affirmative, but he knew someone who would.
The Marionette slid its no longer two-faced gaze to rest on the human beside it, and gave an answering roll of its music box along with its characteristically solemn nod. Mike swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat.
"You cannot have a Freddy without his Bonnie, my friend." The Puppet agreed, and it sounded as glum and accepting as Mike felt.
"I never really stopped to think about it before, but…I guess it seems obvious now." Mike said.
"Fredbear didn't know the Purple Man would return. He likely just wanted things to be the way they were. He wanted his best friend back. There were risks involved, granted, but Hope and Love and Loss can be powerful blinders." Mike knew where the Marionette's words were headed, but he let him continue anyway. The parallels were too obvious to ignore.
"Neither of you did anything wrong."
"Misguided as all hell, though. We both screwed up big time Mari, between you and Springtrap. Between all this!" Mike retorted bitterly. He was about the only person who could snap back at this creature and be chided or coddled instead of torn apart. "I'm a fucken idiot for letting all this come to a head…"
On cue the Puppet stroked and plucked at his messy hair, letting playful fingers distract the man from his dark, stormy thoughts.
"Stop that." The Puppet warned, its tone was airy as a summer wind sighing. "It was built into Goldy's very nature to seek Springbonnie out, no matter what happened. No matter how different the two of them where, how far they'd come from where they started. That sort of desperation is almost inevitable. No need to fear what you can't avoid, yes?"
Hell, Springtrap didn't even answer to his original name. He was a separate entity from William, that much had been proved when he sat for years in Parts and Services, content to read library books Mike checked out for him, or listen to piano music while the man tinkered. And yet Spring refused to return to his old name, often telling Mike that everyone must bear scars of the past, to remind them about what really happened, and to take their share of the blame. Springtrap wanted to shoulder his part in Fazbear's murderous history, for not standing up to his Billy when he should have. Mike didn't agree with it, and refused to let Bonnie victim-blame the older bunny too badly, but he also couldn't deny Springtrap much of anything.
Thinking back on what Henry had first warned him, maybe that had been part of the problem. Springtrap was a name William himself carried, perhaps too proudly. Maybe Springtrap's own depression had been a self-fulfilling prophecy.
It didn't make Mike feel better. But somehow, it made him feel less angry.
"Spring's a good guy, Mari. And Goldy, Goldy adores him still. If we gotta go through losing the two of you all over again, I don't know if, if either of us can even take it…"
"Let's worry about what we have to now, night guard. Are you ready?"
"…let's hope so." Mike studied the creature beside him and managed a smile that, for the first time in a while, made his eyes spark a bit. "Besides, I got you for it, don't I? You got my back."
"I always have, my friend." The Marionette chimed, the noise warm and clear. "but I'm afraid this is where you and I are going to have to split up. Don't worry—" the creature chuckled at the alarmed, hurt look on Mike's face. The creature looked delighted at Mike's instinctive response and he felt strings tickle his arms for a second.
"It won't be for long. I need to go check on something. You need to be ready, because when the door opens, you won't have long." The Puppet did look taller all of a sudden, and…pointier. Mike watched the subtle shifts back the entity known as Nightmaronnie, fascinated. They were getting closer to Reality, then.
"Your last shift is about to start, my friend." It chimed lightly when Mike's expression dropped and he suddenly couldn't meet the creature's eyes. The Puppet reached out a slithering set of stripped fingers, still half the Puppet, half Nightmaronnie, and guided his chin back up.
"Tell me your worries." The monstrosity probed, tone gentle despite the grotesque form it was taking on.
"I don't have my flashlight, Mar. Or, uh, the big ass ghostly animatronic that runs off my flashlight." Mike patted himself down as if to prove his point. "I've had Goldy for years now, he's had my back when you couldn't. Without him, I'm nothing. I don't regret giving him up to save you but I, I don't know if this will work…"
"You don't have him, true. But then, you never really needed him. Do you remember what I told you at the start of these long nights? That all your are is enough."
"If you say it enough, I might start to believe you." Mike huffed, but there was a flicker of light returning to his gaze. He smiled when the Puppet trilled in praise and removed its slippery fingers. Still he couldn't help but ask, in an almost pleading tone,
"You won't be gone long, will you?"
"No." The Marionette assured firmly. "And my strings will stretch with you the entire time. I'll be able to find my way back no matter where you are inside the restaurant, but if we're going to win this, you're right. We need the flashlight that can ward away the Nightmares. Even the human ones."
"Especially the human ones." Mike muttered grimly, watching the Nightmaronnie melted into the milling shadows with a grim look of discontent. He waited until he could no longer see any trace of the entity, then turned and eyed the thin door frame looming over him. Ah. That was it, then.
"Here we go…" Mike breathed deeply to steady his nerves. "Hang on, Max. I'm coming. No more fighting the family secrets alone, kid."
Max couldn't say he was all that surprised when the Fazes were against him and Scraptrap venturing out on their own. Even if it was just them, and they were sealed together. And of course, logically two were harder to spot than five, or six. And, you know, there was really only one animatronic that was voting no. Three guesses as to who, and the first two didn't count—
"Freddy!" Max tried yet another failed feint to get around the lead Rockstar animatronic, but Freddy wouldn't budge, and he was taller than Scraptrap, besides for their ears. More to the point, he was wider and made of better and newer materials. He blocked their way to the door and held them easily back with one paw, giving a scolding, determined glare. "I just need to check and see for myself! With Dad out of the picture, that only leaves Henry, if we're lucky. But we need to know. We can't go out there swinging blind!
That's how we ended up in this mess in the first place!"
"Says the one who axed us the last time we all faced down dear old Dad." Bonnie muttered snidely behind a pristine paw to Foxy. Both fox and parrot nodded in agreement, but everyone watched the scene unfold with obvious interest.
"What does he think's gunna happen?" Bonnie stage-whispered again. "This'll all turn out hunky-dory?"
"Jeepers," Chica whispered, "It's total déjà vu. Freddy's gunna have two Mike's on his paws to deal with now."
"Aye, and both are prone ta be makin' bad choices in the name of heroics and bravery." Foxy grunted.
"Fools." Bonnie snickered. "Ya gotta love 'em, though. Or in Fred's case, tolerate and keep em' in one piece." Still, everyone knew their leader adored Mike Schmidt, and it was clear he was growing to love Max again as well, otherwise he wouldn't worry over them so. As their night guard so fondly put it, Freddy's love languages were over-protectiveness and concern, but damn if he didn't make you feel safe.
"I'm not sure you want that, son." Freddy said as he pretended to check a third time that nothing and no one was coming down the hall. "You may think you do, but sometimes it's best not knowing."
"That's the biggest load of horse—" Max had the good sense to shut his trap when Freddy shot him a warning glare, but he huffed, "You can't just lie down and take all this, Freddy. Especially not you. You were made to replace Fredbear for a reason, which means I know that you know what you really want to do. Sitting around isn't for you."
Bonnie, Foxy and Chica watched the argument with the casual interest of voyeurs at a volleyball match.
"Gunna go out there, and take on the world, son? Even…the Puppet?" Freddy threatened, his tone was half chide and half demand. Max didn't buy it, much like Mike wouldn't have either.
"If it was the Marionette that took out Dad, we both know I'd be dead by now." Scraptrap pointed out as evidence he could leave and snoop around. That this, apparently, made it safe. "It's not out for me, if it was, Scrap would be literal scraps. He spared him though, but damaged him enough for Uncle Henry to fall for it."
"If it was the Marionette, this whole place would be blown sky high by now." Freddy corrected. "Which means it's something we haven't dealt with yet, and so it ain't safe." That was true too, but like any teenager, an argument was a fight for their life, and Max took it as such.
"Exactly! And I've been sneaking around for years, just me and Scrap! No one ever caught us, not even when they were looking. Who better than to get you intel, huh? Especially with these ears?" Scraptrap pointed at his ears, their purple eyes glowing in challenging.
"Lad's got 'im there, the old bear's speechless." Foxy remarked, almost admiring.
"Then by that stretch, why don't I send out both my Bonnie models, and lose my best friend and my kid in one go when you're inevitably caught and torn apart? That sound good to you, son?!" Freddy snapped.
"…not quite speechless." Bon replied warily, both bots ducking when Chica hushed them strictly.
"Fredd-iee!" Scraptrap whined, turning in place with a frustrated flop of their arms. "I know you like moving last and all, and I know how protective you get, but we can't just sit here! C'mon! This place is big, but it's not that big. We need to find a way out, and that's gunna be through the guy who closed the place up on us, isn't it?"
It was a logical enough sentiment, and Scraptrap saw the instant doubt flickered in the big bear's wise, firm glare. He had him.
"Please? You'd let Mike do this." The duo finally stated, using their finisher they'd saved for this moment. Just in case. "If he made the right points. Like I have. I'll be careful, honest."
But the way Freddy turned away from him, his look searching the gazes of his band, Max paused inside the casing of his friend.
Oh. He knew what this was about now.
Huh. Well. In that case.
And so, laying a careful, almost shy paw onto Freddy's arm, Max Afton added quietly, "And…and I'll come back. I won't leave you guys again. I promise."
Freddy grunted, but his gritted teeth and roll of his optics in another direction meant something that made Scraptrap's ears prick up in triumph.
After much arguing and assuring Freddy he'd hurry back and not try to be a hero (or stupid, though frankly the two were synonymous if you asked certain people,) he and his bunnybot were finally allowed beyond the safety of the secluded, cramped Parts and Services room. He was actually a little surprised it worked at all, but he was grateful it had. Time to snoop.
He and Scraptrap stayed in Suit mode, knowing that sticking together was going to be their best chance for survival.
The decrepit building had lost most of its magic and charm once Henry and the Marionette had fallen out of favor with each other. The vengeful, awful magic had decided to stop any and all illusions, and what was left in its wake was a chilly atmosphere and dark, dank smelling mold. Something was scurrying in the walls, and a cool wind was blowing in from some opening—perhaps many openings. It made the walls creak and moan, made loose wallpaper and moth-nibbled curtains flutter and shift. Their silky whispers were chilling even to a normal person's ears, but with Max's heightened hearing all those little noises made everything ten times as worse. More than once he turned in place, trying to figure out if someone was actually breathing down their back, even though logically he knew he'd hear if anyone tried sneaking up on them. They were too focused not to notice. There was a reason Max wore his headphones as often as he did, sometime you just needed to be able to block out the noise. He couldn't do that now, though, and both of them knew that. Scraptrap grumbled uneasily all around him, his sounds the closest by proxy. But unlike the ambience and general freakiness that permeated the air of the old restaurant, Scrap's noises were safe, comforting, and home. So Max just shook their heads and motioned for them to keep quiet as Church mice.
They found who they were looking for by the Office, a few feet until the very end of the hall, the door sealed tightly.
Springtrap himself lay slumped against the wall, half upright and palms face up. Every so often, his body twitched, or sparked, but the color was all off. There wasn't a trace of violet anywhere around the old bunny, and this made Max pause in alarm and, dare he say, a flicker of hope.
Max pried himself free of his bunnybot, watching the silvery, dulled optics lazily track his movements. He didn't want Springtrap to think they had come here to kick him while he was down, and he knew Scraptrap would stick close without having to be told. But he needed full use of his hands incase there was something he could fix to keep the bunny talking, and sometimes Scrap's digit joints got stuck doing the most basic of maneuvers.
Upon closer inspection though, their splitting was for naught. There was nothing Max could do to repair Springtrap and prolong the inevitable.
"Dad's gone again." the statement seemed obvious, but to him it was a whispered prayer of relief. That was one small point in their favor, wasn't it?
"Springtrap—Springbonnie, I mean…you in there?" Max coached, kneeling close as he dared. "C'mon, man, don't go dark on me now."
"I am," the old bunny choked out with all the force it's voice box could muster, his entire miserable frame half twisted and bent and smoking. "The night guard got—got me."
"Mike?" Max didn't realize how eager he sounded until Scraptrap chuffed in amusement behind him, and he shot his best friend a dirty look. "What'd he do? How'd he get Dad's ghost out of you, dude?"
Springtrap's reply was static, harsh and baleful as he tried to speak. But he shook his head, either he didn't know exactly what Mike did or…or it wasn't Mike at all. But who then?
There were no other night guards left.
Max never got his answer, although he realized another factoid and it made him pause and soften, drawing back a step.
"…you're dying." Max realized slowly, the words bitter and chilly on their tongue. "But I have a feeling Dad won't stay gone for long. So whatever move Uncle Henry's going to make, it's gunna be soon. So neither if you can come back, not ever again…right?"
"He is-s. And…I am-m." Springtrap sounded exhausted, his body twitching sporadically every few moments. "A-a-gain. Perhaps t-t-this tim-e-e…I'll s-stay d-dead…"
Max didn't know if they would be so lucky. At the same time, it was what had to be done. And this time, not even Mike couldn't fix the original Bonnie model. There was too much damage this time, even beyond what was old wounds and old decay from Dad's corpse. The heavy, unfamiliar blanket of finality dropped down over the trio like a shroud, and Scraptrap warbled soothingly when he saw Max's frame crumple. The teenager shook his head in refusal at first, trying to pretend it didn't bother him.
But it did. Death bothered this corpse a lot.
It was a weird set of statements, but it was true. And suddenly the thought of Springtrap being totally and utterly gone made Max's blood run cold, (in some sense of the word, that is.) The corpse shuffled awkwardly closer, wincing as he looked over all the damage. Springtrap being gone seemed like a blessing, so why did it hurt so to consider? Maybe it was because it was another piece of the past that was being swept under a rug, and smoothed over with time and detachment. He wanted his dad out of the picture in more ways than one, but losing Springbonnie seemed to carry with it an air of conclusiveness. Everything in his life was gone, a question mark, or simply left out in the cold, waiting to die.
With Alexander, Arthur, Henrietta, his mother and father all dead…and the animatronics that were around them most of Max's natural (and supernatural) life, what was he, then? An orphan? That was a silly thought, but it made his throat tighten anyway. No kid, no matter their age, wanted to be an orphan.
And very few people ever truly want to be Alone.
"Y-you." Springtrap suddenly said, silver eyes alighting hungrily on the watchful, protective Bonnie model beside the last remaining Afton. "My s-second to las-st spare…come here. Come closer.
The Giver was right…it's ti-time to re-reward your brav-bravery…"
Wait, second to last? That would make…but Max paused, more caught up in watching the two Bonnie models suddenly, his thoughts distracted. Springtrap's jagged fingers crooked, eyelid plates sliding upward once before drooping unevenly, his jaw sliding down as he watched and beckoned.
"Scrap—" Max started, but paused in surprise when his best friend warbled but stepped forward, hesitating only when he was in reach of the slumped, ancient animatronic. Then, after coming to some inner decision, Scraptrap grunted and closed the distance, kneeling slowly into reach of the original Bonnie model. Scrap eyed the animatronic with curiosity and confusion, but Max couldn't feel any traces of fear or hate, and so he gradually softened to. He trusted Scraptrap's instincts; they hadn't failed them yet over the decades.
"I will g-give you some—something-g," Springtrap choked out, then wheezed and with great effort, lurched his exposed, human like hand to grip Scraptrap's weather worn fur tight. Purple flickered between the two, erratic and pulsing before it vanished with a strange shfff of air. "Should've…b-before. But you were g-gone, lil boy…"
"What the hell was that!?" Max demanded, then yelped as something bright and powerful zipped upward, dancing along his spine. He and Scraptrap both flinched and shook themselves, shivering.
"Did you just—?" Max cut himself off, purpled hand pressed to his rib cage when he felt his heart give a powerful series of thumps before relaxing back into its hollow, crusted and dried out cavity.
Springtrap actually attempted a passable smirk, then breathed reverently, "My origin-original co-coding. All th-a-at makes me Springbonnie. Y-you, you two. You will be the new—new Bonnie. H-help my de-dear Fredbear move…move on…from m-me. Keep…keep…"
"Keep the night guard safe." Max realized in awe, eyeing his own two hands and watching the way his skin flushed slowly with his skin's original color before fading to the usual shade of his corpse. Looking alive for that brief second made his skin tingle, but he had no idea how to prolong the illusion yet. The Puppet had warned him he wasn't strong enough to pull off such an act, but with Springtrap's abilities in them…
He could be ready a lot faster, it seemed.
"One of Dad's best tricks was hiding in plain sight…making people think he was something he wasn't. Even when he was alive, he still managed to…fool so many fucken people. People that lost their lives because he didn't let them see what he truly was." Max marveled to himself and to the Bonnies. "If I can do what he did…what you helped him do…and I'm not stuck inside my Animatronic like he was…I could appear…alive, again. Right?"
Springtrap nodded rustily.
Scraptrap blinked his silver eyes at Max, and the teenager could see the changes already, the minor repairs to the bonnie model's outer fur suit. The gentle brighten of his fur, the way his eyes glowed fiercely even though they were separated.
Scraptrap didn't look too different though, but he felt the same as Max remembered. That was nice. He had a feeling the effects would be more noticeable the next time Mike or Fredbear were near them though.
"Cl-clever-r lil boy~" Springtrap rasped tiredly in praise, head falling back against the wall with a dull thump. "Us-use it wisely…and…one other thin-thing…"
"Shoulda known," Max muttered dryly at his best friend, who cackled but nudged him to be silent and listen.
"You're ri-right, lil boy. No-nothing in this-this life…is free. But…you…take c-care…of my Goldy…and find…"
Max perked up instantly, curiosity and plain old dread filling him all at once. Springtrap malfunctions were finally winning out over the stubborn creature. He began to power down longer, his voice falling in and out of pitch.
"Find what? Hey, no, Springtrap, don't go to sleep!" He begged, dropping closer and giving the slumping animatronic a few shakes, but it was useless.
But Springtrap's body was losing power fully now, his optics no longer flashing but waning softer and softer. Until even their shimmering glow was nearly gone. His twitches had stopped for over a minute.
"Find it. Find—and dess-troyyy it. Desstroooy…the—the gl—gl—trrr-ap—"
Maybe Springtrap gave up, or maybe he thought his full message got through. But either way, the animatronic powered down and fell still, head lolling forward and last good ear drooping lifelessly.
"…damn." Max sighed, carefully easing out away from the broken and deactivated animatronic. "The 'Gl trap.' Must be another one of Dad's projects, like Circus and her gang were." But not one he'd heard of, though that wasn't exactly a surprise.
Scraptrap utter a rolling thrum in reply, but pointed down the hall.
"Yeah. We gotta worry about this trap first, I know. Bench Springtrap's warning for later. Right now…we gotta save the others." Max sighed and stood, pausing to pat down his already threadbare shirt and pause when movement behind them startled the edges of his attention.
"And whose going to save you, boy?" asked a voice.
That was about the moment the taser rod buried into his spine, biting deep. The thousands volts fucking hurt, even though he was dead, if anything that made it worse. The electrical shock ricocheted through his body, jammed his heart, jostled his brain. He screamed, but Scraptrap's shriek of pain joined his too, the pain felt through both of them.
"Max!"
Despite the shock to his systems and the fact he was in so much pain he couldn't see straight, even Max knew Scraptrap didn't have a voice.
He wasn't entirely surprised to realize Uncle Henry had been the one to attack him, nor was he surprised when he opened his wobbling vision and saw blurs of brown, blue, yellow and red appearing down the length of hall and starting for them. He had taken too long, and so the Fazes had come looking for him. He'd made too much noise, and so Uncle Henry had found them with their attention and guard so low it might as well have been in the basement. Perhaps he'd been hiding in the Office the entire time, come to think of it, watching them on the camera feed.
In other words, Max had lived up to his family name, and screwed up royally.
Max groaned as Uncle Henry forced his twitching body somewhat upright, and held the taser to the teen's throat until the gang halted as his other arm pinned his slack upper body in place too. Max didn't bother struggling, it wasn't like he had the energy back yet to do so. Scraptrap looked more than little wrecked too, swaying in clumsy lurches and snarling for all he was worth at the man holding his Suit captive. Still, none of that nor the Fazgang advances made Uncle Henry budge.
"Back up." Their Creator instead commanded, and when Max managed a shaky nod, Scraptrap obeyed with a few shuffling steps. Max's right hand was free enough that he managed to form a shivering 'A' and rubbed his chest clockwise twice, and Scraptrap nodded his immediate, forgiving acceptance at the teen's silent apology.
The Rockstars halted where Scraptrap stood when Henry buried the taser until Max winced in actual fear, glaring down at their Creator who stood with the downed Suit between them, his gaze steely and smoldering. Still, he didn't taser the teen again, although Max had a feeling if Mike's electrical attacks via Fredbear didn't work on Henry, the taser wouldn't do much damage either. Max was the only one at risk here, and they both knew it.
"Get back to your stage." He commanded, and the Rockstars all stood stubbornly still. Only Freddy stepped forward. He halted before he could reach old man or captive. Scraptrap clumsily shifted side to side, trying to stay upright as the after effects of the voltage still shivered through his and Max's weakened frames. He added his own growl to back up Freddy's, faint though it was.
"Leave the boy alone." Freddy rumbled, though he kept a wary eye on the powerful taser still being wielded at Max's throat.
"That isn't what I set out to do. And we both know letting this brat go won't accomplish anything, old friend. This whole….Giving Life, these murders and little hidden miracles, it's all gone way beyond what it should have been. It's nothing but a curse! Even you lot. Perhaps…especially you four." Henry's coal-dead gaze flitted to Foxy, who flattened his ears back and snarled his defiance and wrath.
"I can either dismantle you or him first, but both will be done." Henry informed plainly, as if speaking about simple machines with simple malfunctions. There was no grace or care or hospitality left in the old man.
"Then we come back." Freddy instantly reminded, sounding smug when he pointed out the usual loophole.
"Wrong." Henry retorted, "Then I burn this place to the ground. Can't come back to ash, Freddy. Even you lot know that."
Scraptrap's ears pricked, recalling the Nightmaronnie's early threat. Fire and spirits didn't mix.
'That's what he meant.' Max gritted their teeth and forced his limbs to cooperate and stop shivering so much. 'That's why Puppet stole Mike and got the hell out of here. It knew the danger.'
"Me first, then." Max managed out, ignoring the stifled gasps and noises of protests in front of him from the animatronics. "Go on, Uncle Henry. You wanna kill me, let's get it over with."
"Michael," Freddy's tenor rippled through them almost immediately. Saying his original name seemed to be the one sign he was heading toward trouble with the bear, but Max ignored him.
He thought he could hear something strange. Something behind them.
It sounded…familiar.
Something small and round and mostly white hopped out from a hole in the wall, clutching something cylindrical and yellow. The clueless little thing spared a curious glance at the cluster of bodies to its left, blinked at the corpse of Springtrap it was just standing near, and eyed Scraptrap who jerked it's head at him from across the way. Helpy turned away from the interesting argument, eyeing the old Office door.
Just about here, then…stand like so…
Max caught Scraptrap's gaze, and the bunny shrugged, palms splayed outward before moving in along with an arch of his shoulder. Following that, Scrap quickly curled his arms an X and itched uselessly at his chest with clawed fingers. Henry sneered at him, but there was no spark of recognition in his actions, and he seemed focused on Max still. Good.
Henry was silent still, regarding him with enough surprise around the edges of his face that Max felt some inner pride kindle within. It was kind of nice to be able to surprise the guy who'd been pulling on all their strings this entire goddamn time. Maybe he could manage it once. If he was lucky.
Tiny paws fiddled and pushed at the square sliding switch.
"What's wrong?" Max risked a glance over his shoulder, trying to lock gazes with the man gripping him so tightly that if he still had to breathe he'd be lightheaded by now. He had to keep Uncle Henry talking, keep him distracted. "This isn't what you planned fully, is it Uncle Henry?"
He stared down the man who used to be more his father than his real one, never taking his purple gaze off the old man. Scraptrap whined his refusal then, swaying so poorly that Chica and Foxy both moved to help the bunnybot, and despite the ragged model's grunts they hauled him back a bit too, giving both humans space.
"You want me to fight back. You expected me to. Want me to turn into the monster that my father is? Turn into what you think I am?" Max asked icily.
Henry's gaze flitted once, and only once, down to Max's hip. His eyes were hungry. Max shivered, but set his jaw until it felt like his teeth might crack. He didn't care.
The corpse's hand followed the glance with deceptive smoothness, taking hold of the cassette player. All around them, the building creaked eerily, but especially up above. Both of the Bonnie model's ears twitched, then returned to normal, as if they hadn't heard anything at all.
"Sorry to disappoint. But I've been such a screw up that I'd think you'd be used to it by now."
"I started this to end it, Michael. You agree with me on that, at least?" Henry replied. His tight hold hadn't loosened round Max's shoulders, the taser still aimed and fully charged. "Dying will put a stop to this, stop the horrors."
"Oh, I agree it's going to end all right." Max's eyes slid to focus on a point behind Henry. A smile curled at his lips.
A thin line of light began to trace around the edges of the Office door, slowly illuminating Henry until the man was back lit.
"But nothing ever stays dead at Freddy's." Max grinned turned to look eagerly from his vantage, watching the sizzling light begin to bleed outward from the frame and leave the shiny wallpaper in its wake. Everyone watched it in wonder, although Henry did so in filtered horror. The floor and ceiling brightened, tile and plaster blinding bright and new. The sounds of the arcade machines springing back to life sounded from the Grand Dining Hall.
Henry noticed when it passed him, and his scowl shifted to shock, and then suddenly fear. He shoved Max, hard, as if the teen burned him, and turned as the door opened. And though Henry whirled at the ready, but someone else was ready too.
Mike was over the threshold in one clean leap, ducking under to grab the man's arm and wrench the taser up, sending its prepared shock up into the light fixture, which shattered and broke.
And then repaired, nearly instantly.
Mike smirked at Henry, still gripping the man tight, panting only a little.
"Let's set the stage one more time, Henry." Mike's tone was deadly but his eyes flashed with amusement as he pushed away from Henry, throwing the taser down the hall toward his animatronics. "And this time, I'll play the same way I used to, no holding back."
"How did you—" Henry patted himself down for something, as if he'd lost the last bullet to a gun. Then he relaxed, and his own smile returned. "Still here. You're alone, then. Just Mike Schmidt."
"Just me." Mike agreed, thin lipped and watchful. He edged between Max and the gang, smirking as the restaurant returned the grandeur and glam they had walked into. Something had settled every minor detail back in place, but either Henry didn't care or assumed it was him doing it.
"Michael!" Though Max and Mike turned to answer the Faz leader, Mike was the one who got his hair tousled for his trouble, and he grinned and pawed playfully at his best friend in kind. "Are we glad to see you, boy!"
"Hey, we thought you were dead!" Bonnie chided, sounding delighted to be wrong.
"I got better," Mike cackled, then realized who he was talking to and hummed in amazed appraisal. "You guys look great! Must be nice to be in brand new bodies."
"Don't we though~?" Chica giggled at the praise from their night guard, positively preening as the others nodded emphatically.
"Tougher, too." Foxy reminded with a vicious snap of his big jaws. "Since this ain't be over yet, lad…"
Mike nodded, his face hardening. Back to business.
"I didn't go through those first five nights with Fredbear, Henry! And I don't need him now, either." Mike assured coolly, grinning with all his teeth.
"You used the Puppet to cheat though back then, although it seems this time it's abandoned you, hmm?" Henry pointed out, and though Mike's grin faded, he said nothing in reply. "I knew it hadn't changed that much."
A moment later Helpy spotted Mike, and jumped happily in place.
"Where've you been, Little Bear? Come here, Helpy." Mike coaxed without thinking. Obediently the small Funtime model rushed toward Mike without a second thought, holding out the flashlight with triumph and joy in his bright little optics.
It happened too quick for anyone to see at first. They only saw what happened instantly after, because all eyes were on Helpy or the Crying Child's flashlight in that singular moment. Everything was going to be fine, in fact.
One second Helpy was there, the next a golden paw had smashed into him, crushing his tiny frame against the wall with such force his ear popped loose and a leg dropped free. Bolts and nuts tinkered across the shiny, checkerboard flooring, as the Funtime model was completely and totally obliterated.
"No!" Mike roared, the lights flickering with an over powered hum, something sizzling along the walls as the room darkened for a brief instant.
The massive paw moved back, and everyone watched Helpy's broken and brittle body spark briefly before falling quietly to the ground in several bits and pieces. The flashlight, which only survived because Helpy's body took most of the bear's slam, only rolled uselessly until it hit a huge, flat paw. It laid there, forgotten as everyone's eyes and optics dragged up in growing horror.
Mike, for his part, stared in shock and disgust as Fredbear himself stood in Henry's place, black eyes hollow and empty as ever. The tiny white pinpricks were positively soulless and horrifying. The bear's jaw dropped tempting wide and Henry's low voice dragged out as laughter filled the hall.
Henry was laughing at them. And at something behind them.
Realizing more than just what happened to Helpy was wrong, Mike and Max turned, watching the Rockstar's optics click to black and white one by one. They shifted into detached, lifeless stances, heads turning to stare down at the two humans in a series of chilling clicks. Every move was robotic, synchronized, and telling. Even Foxy's parrot was silent and lifeless once more. Scraptrap whined and scratched at his face, but remained unchanged, though he shifted uneasily closer to Max with a regretful hiss-click of pain.
"WHAT'S WRONG, LITTLE MAN?" Fredbear bellowed until the walls quivered, and so did Mike and Max's bones. "YOU SAID YOU HAD NO USE FOR GOLDEN FREDDY. SURELY YOU DON'T MIND IF I FIND USE FOR IT?
NO HOLDING BACK, SCHMIDT."
Give 'im the chair, Mike! …although the last times he squared off against a Freddy model, things didn't go too well, did they?
…so who all's hyped for Security Breach tomorrow?