AN: Just a heads-up, me and Silver The Archer have the same canon, as she has said. So that's why some names are repeated, if you're wondering.
It's always good to go for a walk. It clears your head. Keeps you calm. Makes you appreciate the little things in life.
However, there's nothing good about this walk.
I feel the sunlight hit my eyes. No, not my eyes. Its eyes. Or it is her eyes? I don't know. I don't know where she ends and the twisted amalgamation of animatronic parts begins. I don't even know if she's really in there or if was just another lie William told me. All I know is that I'm not in control.
It pauses for a few seconds, as if it's taking in the day. Then, it begins to walk. However, this time it's different. It's slower, for one. While in the past, it could run just as fast as me, now it can only hobble along and drag itself down a path.
It's also – for want of a better term – not as human. Yeah, who would have guessed the animatronic hybrid wouldn't act human? What I mean is that it doesn't replicate human behaviour. It doesn't wave at anyone anymore, doesn't look at others, doesn't talk, and it doesn't even seem like it registers people anymore.
But I do. I see them, out of the corner of my eye. Yes, my eye, not the thing's. They're hiding. Whether behind their houses or just behind the curtains, they're trying to avoid us. Some sneak quick glances, only to look away as soon as they do. Other simply look at us with disgust, like we're some kind of monster. A few parents walk down the road as well. They cover their children's eyes and tell them to keep their distance. The first time it bumped into another person, I tried calling for help. But I couldn't. My voice wasn't mine anymore. It was the fusion's.
It hurts. It hurts so much. I thought it would get easier. I was wrong. Every second, I feel its wires poking into the inside of my skin. I feel them wrapping themselves around my bones. Every movement we make causes me unimaginable pain. Not moving is worse.
I wish the scooper had killed me. The animatronics said that I wouldn't die. They were right. I lived. But I wished they were wrong. One time, in school, one of my friends said that living forever was more of a curse if anything.
He was right. This is a curse. A curse I want broken. I want out. I want to be free. I want it to stop. Please, just stop. Why won't it even stop stop st-
Wait.
Why have we stopped walking?
The creature's looking down, as am I. It's staring at a sewer grate. Why? What's so good about it? It looks down at itself. I do the same. And then, I hear it.
"THIS. BODY. IS. DONE."
I can't tell if it's just my imagination or if the robot's really saying it, but I definitely heard it. The voice isn't right. It's not the voice it used when it was tricking me. It's a horrific mix of all their voices. It's loud, yet quiet. Growling, like soothing. Caring, yet malicious.
Suddenly, I rear my head back. No. It rears our head back. It opens our mouth, staring into the sun.
Then come the sounds. Unlike the voice, I know this isn't my imagination. This one is a mix of human-like gagging and metal scraping. It sounds like a bird trying to hack up the food for its child.
My entire body begins to feel its wires unravelling. It unwraps itself around my bones and begins to rise. It's coming up. Coming up my throat. It's trying to get out.
I can feel it.
That's when it vomits.
'Vomits'. Is that even the right word? What other word could describe it? I don't know. Either way, it throws our head forward and shoots itself out. The mess of endoskeletons fly into an open sewer grate, disappearing into the darkness.
And, with nothing to keep me up, I fall to the ground.
I can't move. I can't see. I can barely think straight. My entire body is numb. Is this the end? I can't tell if-
You won't die.
If I still had a heart, it would probably skip a beat. That voice. The voice that tricked me. Lured me into the scooping room. Still here.
But I know this one's in my mind. It's what the animatronic told me when-
You won't die.
My sight returns, albeit blurry as can be. I look at my hand and, to my amazement, my fingers are movable.
You won't die.
The numbness leaves my left arm as my sight improves. I try moving my left arm. It works.
I'm not dead.
You won't die.
No. I am dead. But I'm also not. Whatever that scooper did, it evidently let me survive after being gutted and worn as a skin-suit.
Focus, Michael. Use your mother's breathing exercises to focus your body. 1, 2, 3, 4-
You won't die.
Ignore the thoughts. They're just a distraction. Start over. 1, 2, 3-
You won't die.
I can feel my legs again. I can also feel a sensation in my right arm, like some kind of 'pins and needles' thing times a thousand. 4, 5, 6-
You won't die.
7.
You won't die.
8.
You won't die.
9.
You won't die.
10.
You won't die.
And then I rise. In the most unnatural way possible, as a matter of fact. I barely even use my use my knees to stand, I just… stand. Trying to get up like this would ordinarily be impossible, or at least hurt my back. Now, I doubt I can even feel pain.
I stand on the street, silent. I'm able to stand straight. My legs don't feel like jelly. I don't feel tired anymore. I can feel some squirming inside me. It's not the animatronic, though. It's a worm. I can tell.
There are a few bugs in my body, actually. I'm literally food for the worms. I'm decaying. I'm a monster.
All thanks to him.
Of course. How could I have not seen it before? He tricked me. Sent me there, knowing that the animatronics wanted to get free. He knew that they'd mistake me for him. He just knew that if he went, he'd be the one gutted. He was too cowardly to get the job done himself.
So, he sent me to do it. Sent me to clean up the mess he made. Sent me to die.
Though, I suppose I'm not entirely blameless. I trusted him. I was a fool.
I just stand there for a few moments, taking in my situation. It's funny. I thought I'd be more happy to get control of my body back. And yet… I feel nothing. No joy, no relief… just anger. Anger at myself for being such an idiot. And, as if the bits of my brain are slowly putting themselves together, I know now what I must do.
Father, I will find you. And I'll make you pay. And not just for me. For Henry. For Stan. For Norman. For Mom. For Elizabeth. For Charlie. For all the children you killed. For all the innocent people you've made suffer.
I will avenge all of them. I will set the ghosts of your past free.
I am still here.