INFORMATION
Written by: Pinkpony4
Chapter Word Count: 12'349
Published on FanFiction: 12th of October
Published on AO3: 12th of October
Chapter 14: Setting the Record Straight
Michael had fallen back into one of his bad habits again, and that was chewing gum. He was stressed beyond belief at the sight of the building in front of him, and he hadn't even stepped inside yet. He cuddled Geh Ge, rolling the wad of strawberry-flavoured gum around with his tongue nervously.
From what he could tell through the rain, the pizzeria was not the only building around. Beside it was a gas station, and a little further down the road was a cluster of buildings that he could only guess were some homes, with a tiny shop and a pre-school sitting side-by-side. Not good at all. He thought this place was supposed to be isolated.
But the fact that it was in a populated area wasn't the biggest worry on his mind right now; it was the state of the building itself.
The big neon sign on the roof said: 'Feddy Fazbear's izza lace' because two of the lights were out, and one was flickering horribly. The front entrance was littered with trash, the bins hadn't been emptied, the car park had washed out parking lines, no pedestrian crossing, and a barely visible drive through for the supply trucks. The walls were grimy with muck and in desperate need of a paint job, one of the drains on the roof was broken so that a small waterfall had formed right in front of the main entrance, and some of the tiles on the sidewalk had come loose, creating a tripping hazard. Lord knows what the inside looked like.
Surely Henry didn't expect him to fix all of that… right?
He sat inside the car until twelve, waiting for the rain to lighten up a bit before he made the sprint to the entrance. He dreaded to look inside, but his curiosity was begging him to take a peek.
Eventually the rain turned into a light drizzle, letting him twist in his seat to snatch his bags up and quickly jump out of the car, lock it, and bolt to the door, dodging the little waterfall along the way. He stopped just short of the entrance, pulling his hand away from the door in disgust. The iron handle was rusted and the door was begging to be cleaned. It was littered with fingerprints, scratches, grime, and he could feel his right eye twitching as he stepped inside and saw the state of the place. It was somehow even worse.
The little tunnel used to funnel customers to the front desk was mouldy, and had a grimy cash register on top with yellowed pamphlets and menus sitting on a tiny plastic shelf beside it. The white and black chequered tiles were grimy with dirt, and oil, with some brown, yellow, and vomit-green stains splattered here and there. There were dirty footprints leading further into the building because the mat at front of the door was stained brown from dirt and… something else. As soon as he recognised what it was, he jumped over the carpet, nearly slipping over.
Now that he was actually inside the building, the stench had him gagging.
"Oh my Father," he whispered in horror, gaze landing on the walls and ceiling.
The walls were covered in similar stains, and the classic, chequered pattern, was chipped in certain places and needed a new coat. The concrete ceiling had flickering LED lights, with one of them hanging by a wire, and thick cobwebs had gathered in the corners and along the walls. He could see some large spiders slowly crawling around.
The state of the furniture nearly made him want to scream. The metal tables had mouldy mats covering their tops, and some of the seats were on their last legs. The paper plates and party hats sitting around had been flattened or blown off onto the floor, and from what he could tell, the tables themselves were stained. Looking under the nearest table, he spotted a disgusting amount of chewed gum stuck to the top.
There were two stages at the front that served as the 'main attraction', but any personality or colour that it had once had was faded away. The curtains were hanging limply from their posts, and were a faded pink instead of hot-red. The stage he recognised as Foxy's classic little corner, had ripped curtains with stars that no longer shined with glitter. The stage lights for both stages were slumped over, with the most miserable pair of speakers he had ever seen sitting on top.
He dreaded to look at any of the other rooms, let alone walk into the halls or – God forbid – the bathrooms.
He was sure that if his father saw the state of the place, he'd probably faint – Michael certainly felt like he was about to. How the fuck had this place stayed open? Some type of undiscovered bacteria had to be growing in here. He wouldn't be surprised if he found fungus growing somewhere. Who knew how many vermin or bugs had made this place their home.
The smell had to be the worst part of it all. How could anyone stand to work here? It was disgusting, and he had worked in an office where a man had died in the week prior, with suits that hadn't been washed in years still reeking of death.
"Disgusting, isn't it?"
He jumped, only just noticing his uncle sitting at the 'cleanest' table. He swallowed, trying not to choke on his gum in his horror. "What the Hell is this?"
It had to be a trick of the light, because there was no way his uncle looked guilty. "Your new workplace."
"My… my… What?! This place is disgusting! How am I supposed to get this up and running? No one would – or should – want to step foot in here," he sputtered, accidentally swallowing his gum pre-emptively.
"Well, when it's the only place to eat out in town, and the only place large enough to host a party, everyone is forced to. From what I can gather, the only thing the locals like is the food."
"And the locals are a problem. I thought this place was isolated."
Uncle Henry sighed, gripping his cane. "It's the only place I could find that had the lowest population around."
"But it's got a pre-school!"
"And there's nothing we can do about that. Listen, Michael, I'll explain everything, but you need to listen. And don't interrupt me," he added, waving him over.
He did as he was told, but he didn't dare sit.
"For one, don't worry about the building itself. The company's going to cover the costs of renovating this place, and that includes fixing the interior and exterior. Everything else is up to you and anyone you're willing to hire to get this place cleaned up."
"But I–"
He held up his hand, stopping him. "Uh uh uh uh – what did I say about interrupting me?" He lowered his hand. "We're only going to get one shot at this. To cut this short, the reason we're here is because I managed to convince them that I could get rid of the wandering animatronics. Since they knew who I was, they were willing to provide as little support as possible." He sighed. "This place is a trap, Michael. I'm planning on luring them in, and in order to do that, this place needs to be popular. The more people that come here, the more attractive the place will look to them. Once they're inside, they won't be able to get out, and we can end this." He leaned forward, looking into his eyes. "I know you won't believe me, but you weren't my first choice. I chose someone else, and she found Baby. She took her in and did the tests to see if she was haunted, and as soon as Baby talked, she ran out of the building screaming, letting Baby escape. I know you've got the nerve for this."
Michael scowled, leaning back. No, he didn't believe him. "So what if this place is a trap? It doesn't look like a very good one. If they get here, how are you going to keep them in?"
"You don't need to worry about that right now, Michael. Just–"
"Don't worry?! I need to, otherwise, people could die!" he shouted, quickly lowering his voice just in case someone was nearby. "Look: how do you expect me to know what to do if you don't fill me in on this… this 'plan'?"
"All you have to do now is just focus on the building; otherwise there will be no trap. Michael, The Company's getting impatient, and in their eyes, they're funnelling money out for something unimportant. The only reason they're helping is so they can look like they're doing something. Before I came along, they were planning to knock this place down! We need to work together," he insisted.
His frown only deepened. "Fine. Sure, I can handle the undead, but I'm not a business man. You've got the most experience, so why did you forge my God-damned signature? Why not just put your name down as the owner?"
"Because I've only just got out of prison, Michael. By now, I don't think many people still care about what happened since it's turned into an urban myth, but the ones that know will recognise me, and we'll be in trouble. Even though my name was cleared, all they will see is my face, and that will be enough to cause too many problems. They know I built the majority of the animatronics, and it's not that hard to connect the myths to what really happened. There's always some truth to every story. If they knew I was running this place, things could get ugly."
He snorted. "And you think it'll be a different story for me? That they won't recognise my last name?"
Henry sighed. "We both know that no one knows the truth. To the public, he was never a bad man. He tricked them all into believing he was a caring, honest, and fair man. All they ever saw was what he wanted them to see. He fooled us all."
"He fooled you," he thought. "What about Evan? They'll find out about that," he said instead.
He shook his head. "You'll find that people don't really look up this sort of thing. The only ones that would, would have a personal grudge – the large majority couldn't care less, just like they couldn't care about me. Those that know, however, will be more… accepting if it's you."
"And how are you so sure? I've come across a surprising amount of people that know me, and some of them made a point of insulting me."
"Then it's just something you'll have to deal with."
Michael placed his free hand on his hip, annoyed.
"Michael, you just have to pretend to be the owner; I'll be your shadow, and no one will be any the wiser. Besides, the others will want to investigate if they knew you are here. They wouldn't be able to resist."
"So you're just putting me in the firing line again. Is that it?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"No, because I don't know what you've got in store!"
"Just play along and pretend to care. If we can get this place up and running, then I'll tell you more, I promise."
Henry had made a lot of promises in the past, and they'd never really been of any help when it came to him.
"I do have to ask you this, however: I know who Elizabeth, Charlotte, and William are, but what's that mess of wires with the Freddy head? I've never seen it before."
He shrugged, not quite willing to share Ennard's story. "An amalgamation is the best way I can describe them. I've met them before," he explained vaguely. "I know they're not like the others – they're wild, uncoordinated, and deadly." Well, all of them were deadly, but Ennard was a different breed of Hell.
"When did you meet… them?" Henry asked, sounding as though he didn't want the answer. Michael answered it anyway.
"I'll give you the short version of the story: Father asked me to free Lizzie, so I went to the storage facility and pretended to be a technician so I could find her. Things didn't work out – everything in there tried to kill me, and I learned that the animatronics he had built had pulled themselves apart and made themselves into what they called Ennard. They tried to leave through me, but I ran away and left the only exit open."
"Why would you do that?!"
"Because they're possessed, just like the others but, since they're made up of so many parts, they couldn't think for themselves. Too many voices and too many ideas divided them and made them violent, but they were still trapped souls. I couldn't leave them there when they were just as innocent as the others. I just didn't get the opportunity to free them."
"And you didn't free Elizabeth either."
"No. But that was because she was inside Ennard as well. I guess they must've made her the leader, but since Baby has her own body now and Ennard is a mess, I guess they had a fight and she broke off. She must have gone back to the facility and repaired herself."
Henry pondered this information before asking: "'Leave through you?' What does that mean?"
He shivered. "It means exactly that. They wanted to tear me apart and wear me like some sort of meat suit. I don't really understand their logic because they were at least six feet tall, and if they managed to crawl inside, they would have stretched me out like a slinky," he muttered, stomach twisting in disgust at the thought.
"I see," was all his uncle had to say. That was fair; how else would anyone respond to that? After a second, he suddenly perked up, clapping his old hands together. "So the last bits of this… 'Ennard', will want revenge on either you or Elizabeth for ruining their plans. Well, that's good – they won't be able to resist our call!" he said far too happily. Michael glared at him, unable to believe how nonchalant he was about all of this.
"Well, of course they would," he muttered bitterly. "But what makes you think Charlie will follow? Everyone else wants to kill me, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't. I've seen her before, and she's made no move to hurt me. Aside from the time you programmed her to," he added, digging into an old wound. Was it petty? Definitely. Did he feel bad for it…? Unfortunately, yes. But maybe that was a good thing; it meant he hadn't lost his empathy after all of these years.
Henry visibly weltered at the mention of his late daughter, and it made him wince. Michael may have (sort of) moved on from the loss of his late family, but Henry wouldn't have been able to have that same closure. Being near his uncle always made him so conflicted. Why should he feel for his uncle if he didn't feel for him?
"She loves you. Once she finds out they're going after you, she'll follow," he muttered, resentment clear in his voice.
He didn't quite know how to respond to that. "I'm… I'm sure she would want to see you too. You two haven't seen each other in so long – she'd be overjoyed, I'm sure." He paused, suddenly remembering something. "If this plan involves destroying everyone… are you sure you can kill Charlie?"
Henry suddenly looked up, face filled with rage. "Of course! This has haunted me long enough, and I'm ready to rest. Michael just–" his uncle took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I have been planning all of this for so long. I've thought of everything that could go wrong and I'm ready to let go. Are you?"
"I have been for a long time. Lizzie is long gone, but Charlie isn't. She's still aware and… human. It will hurt to let her go once you meet her. Just keep that in mind," he warned.
Henry didn't say anything after that, so he assumed this part of their conversation was over. "So, if you're not gonna tell me about this plan, then what am I supposed to do here? It'll take a while before the building's fixed, and that's if they don't half-ass it. Do they have us on a schedule?"
His uncle nodded, still staring off into the distance with a glazed look in his eyes. "Two months. Plenty of time to get everything in order if you put the work in," he said.
"Just me? What about you?"
He finally looked at Michael again. "Michael, I'm seventy. Besides, I'll be too busy trying to keep everything running in the shadows while you spruce the place up. We have to get the money to clean this place from somewhere, right?"
"…And what do you mean by that? You're not doing anything illegal, are you?" he asked, unnerved by his wording.
"The last thing I want is to be thrown back in prison. No, I'll have to help them sort some internal matters out. They're a complete mess and are doing everything wrong in the worst way possible. If we want this to work, we have to keep them afloat too, unfortunately," he muttered, screwing his face up in disgust.
Michael sighed, turning to look at what laid before him. "Fine. Where's the cleaning equipment?" he asked. He'd feel just the slightest bit better if he started focussing on cleaning.
Henry pointed to one of the hallways that had a sign welded firmly next to it. In bold, black lettering, it read:
'Staff Room
Parts and Service
Storage Room
Maintenance Closet
Security
Kitchen Access
STAFF ONLY'
"It should be in the maintenance closet. I've looked around, and it seems like everything in there has never been touched, which is good for you. If it was, it would have to come out of your own pocket."
Wait a minute. "That! If I'm trying to get this place up for two months, how am I going to get by? I don't have enough on me to keep paying rent, fuel, and food without a job!"
Henry sighed, slowly getting to his feet. "You are getting paid for this, Michael – it's all in your contract. Read it when you get home. Follow it to the letter, and you'll be fine."
As Henry walked past him, he turned to follow. "Where are you going?"
"I have to make a few phone calls to make sure all of your employees know what's going on. And who their new boss is," he added with a mischievous smirk on his face.
"Wha– wait! One of my neighbours work here! They… I can't let them know I'm here."
"Why not? You can't keep living in lies, Michael – they'll bite you the longer you keep them."
"Says you," he thought venomously. "Alright, but don't mention my father or anyone else."
"I didn't plan to," was the last thing his uncle said before he left the building.
Michael shot the rest of the room a foul look before stomping towards the hall, grumbling childishly under his breath. How was he going to fix all of this in two months? It would take a miracle to get this place in shape and he wasn't familiar with those.
He'd have to start somewhere. No one ever got far in life if they just sat around and complained, so he reluctantly entered the musty maintenance closet and got to work.
-o0o-
After thirty minutes of just cleaning the closet and sorting everything out in an orderly fashion, he was finally confident to start working on everything else in the building. He opened the door and shoved it against the wall so the place could air out and dry off. He didn't want all of his work to be undone because mould had decided to make the closet its home.
There was all the necessary cleaning equipment inside: mops, buckets, detergent, some dangerous chemicals he would need to read over later to make sure they weren't poisonous, bleach, sponges, cloths, a vacuum, a ladder, some trash bags and a few spare bins, some alcohol and wet wipes, some very potent rust remover, and some pesticides. The only problem left in the large closet was the single, flickering lightbulb in the room and the lack of any cooling system. With all of the chemicals and moisture that would build up after the equipment was used (and most definitely not dried properly), the room was the perfect breeding place for mould and fungus.
He finally slipped his bags off his shoulders and dropped them on the clean floor, finally getting the weight off his shoulders, even if his arms were still in pain from holding Geh Ge for so long.
"Michael."
He jumped, whirling around so fast that he nearly slapped his uncle, who had made the mistake of standing a little too close to him. Unlike him, however, he didn't seem surprised by his reaction.
"What?"
Wordlessly, Henry held something out that resembled a mound of red and black checkered fabric.
"What's that?" he asked, squinting in the dark as the light flickered again.
His uncle remained silent, holding the thing out. Confused, he took it, looking it over. It was oddly shaped and a little old, but it looked like it had been repaired recently – he could see patches of different fabric here and there, and the rings were shiny and new… wait… rings?
"I still don't know what this is," he said flatly, wondering if this was some sort of game. His uncle sighed, suddenly stepping forward and dusting him off. "Uhhh… What are you doing?"
"Michael, are you really going to carry the kid in one arm all day?" Henry suddenly asked, focussed on getting all of the dust off of his front.
"I've done it before," he said, ignoring how much his muscles were starting to hurt.
Henry scowled and took the thing back, unwrapping it so he could see it properly. "It's a… it's an old baby sling I found in my house. This style is called a ring sling. I thought I'd lost it. You might as well use it – it will just be eaten by moths otherwise, and I would prefer that it gets some use… again."
He hesitated, eyeing the lump of fabric sceptically. It didn't look like it could hold a baby. Seeing his hesitation, his uncle started to thread it through one of its rings, holding out the other half. When Michael didn't react, he gave him an insistent shove.
"Are you sure it'll work?"
"Michael, these things have been used for years in many different forms; of course they work! Now lift him up so I can put this on properly!" he snapped, annoyed at his constant questioning, and perhaps a little hurt. After all, Michael hadn't acknowledged that this used to be Charlie's, and must be very precious to his uncle. He knew though, but he was just unsure of what to say.
Slowly, he did as he was asked, and one of the rings was slid over his shoulder, with the surprisingly thick fabric being looped and tied around the ring. His uncle held it there, nodding at Geh Ge. "Put him in carefully so we can adjust the length."
Geh Ge (who was still in a deep sleep) mumbled as he was carefully put inside the sling, sitting where Henry instructed. He showed Michael how to tighten and loosen the knot around the ring, letting him test it out a few times before he was used to it. Once he found the tension he needed, he slowly stood up straight, hands hovering protectively over Geh Ge until he was sure the sling wouldn't give out.
"Thank you, but why did you give this to me?" he asked.
Henry only walked away.
-o0o-
He would admit that having his hands free helped exponentially. With Geh Ge's head now resting on his collarbone, he was free to put a mask, cleaning goggles, and some rubber gloves on. He then covered his bub's head with his jumper as well to protect him from whatever else was inside.
With the maintenance closet finished, he set about going over the 'Staff Only' hall and rooms. Much like the rest of the building so far, it was filthy, but slightly less so since it was where all of the employees gathered, and none of them would want to be hanging out in a pigsty all day. He went over all of the floors, trudging back to sweep up any leftovers, only to vacuum again. He then did the walls, extending the neck and using both arms so he could reach the upper half of the wall and corners. It was satisfying to see the grey mass of webs and dust disappear. The ceiling was a different story, and his back was aching by the time he was done. He was definitely getting someone else to do the ceilings from here on out.
Aside from that, the only place he didn't dare enter was the kitchen. Who knows what lay in wait in there.
With the last room's ceiling done, he retreated to the hall and leaned the vacuum against the wall before picking up a wash cloth, a pack of alcohol wipes, and some detergent. Entering the Staff Room, he wiped down the small, personal 'kitchen' (which was just a microwave, a coffee machine, a sink, and a mini fridge stuffed inside a tiny room), unplugged and cleaned out all of the electrical equipment, stacked the dishwasher with all of the dishes and ran it just in case, cleaned out the cabinets and left them out to dry, wiped down the tiny island bench in the middle of the room along with the wooden stools (making note of the wobbly ones), and finally finished off with the air conditioner.
Sighing in exhaustion, he pushed the filter back in and shut the conditioner. Dragging the ladder to the door, he flicked the lights a couple of times and turned on the air conditioner, letting out a breath of relief when both worked without a hitch. The cool air flowing from the system actually smelt nice now.
Setting the ladder out in the hall, he walked back inside to plug in all of the electrical equipment and then settled on drying the dishes and putting them away. He refilled the soap dispenser and sorted out the cleaning equipment under the sink, then made sure to switch everything but the fridge off. One last trip in had him walking out with a rubbish bag tied tight, and the two wobbly stools under his right arm.
That had taken an hour and twenty minutes, and he was really feeling the burn now. Not only that, but he could tell Geh Ge was starting to finally wake up, and that wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Wow."
Not as startled as before, he turned around to look at his uncle, who – for once – looked impressed with his work. "Did you really do all of this so quickly?" he asked.
He rolled his eyes, slowly straightening himself out. "Of course, since I'm the only one pulling my weight," he muttered, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. Carrying Geh Ge was a strain on his shoulders as well. "I like cleaning," he added needlessly.
"And you're good at it. I feel like I've stepped into a different building in here," Henry praised, which was a first. Was the weird smell getting to his head?
"Well, I'm not done. I still have to finish the other rooms up, and then mop the floors, and then fix those stools, and then–"
"Go home."
He froze, turning to look at his uncle in shock. Was this some sort of trick? "But what about the tables in the main show area? And there's still so much to do – what about staff?"
Henry raised both hands up, looking alarmed at his frantic rambling. "Michael, this is important, but we've got two months and you've already nearly completed this entire side of the building. If you keep this up, this entire building's going to look spotless by next week. And as for the staff, they're just relieved that they'll be keeping their jobs. They're not to come in until next week, however. You, on the other hand, need to rest."
"I'll be fine," he insisted, turning to pick up the stools. Before he could, his uncle stood in front of them, crossing his arms and doing his best to be as intimidating as possible. It didn't work at all. "I really don't have time for this."
"Well, he's going to make you have time. I think he's getting hungry," he added, nodding down at Geh Ge.
"Why do you care so much?" he snapped, his own exhaustion and hunger talking for him. "I know how to do this, you know."
His attitude was met with just as much snark. "Because you're no use to anyone if you end up on the floor or in the hospital. You may be used to ruining your life, but you've got another mouth to think of, so pull yourself together and rest! And really? You know more about all of this than me? Right now I'm the only one in here with experience when it comes to kids!"
"I'm already getting help back home from people that actually give a damn about me personally. You're just 'concerned' because you need me to be a complacent little puppet," he snapped, blood boiling.
Henry took a deep breath, looking ready to make this fight even worse, before they were interrupted by crying. Just like before, Henry all of a sudden didn't even exist to Michael, as all of his attention was immediately locked on his baby. He ducked into the maintenance closet to retrieve his bags before returning to the staff room. He was glad he'd started with this room first, now.
He put his things down and pulled his goggles, mask, and gloves off, throwing the last two in the previously empty bin. He washed his hands thoroughly, dried them off, then finally sat down on one of the stools. Slipping the sling off his shoulders, he took Geh Ge out and freed him from his jumper, giving him some breathing room as he cried, kicking his legs and clenching his fists in frustration, face scrunched up and as red as a tomato.
Michael took a second to dust himself off before he picked his bub back up, finally attending to him. Bouncing him in one arm, he pulled out the tub containing Geh Ge's mashed food, catching the small metal spoon on the way.
"It's okay, Gregory. Come here," he whispered, patting his back gently as he set the tub and spoon on the bench. After a while, he calmed down enough to open his eyes and look at Michael. "Hello, there. Hungry?" he asked, already reaching for his food.
"Errrgggbee," Geh Ge whimpered, bottom lip quivering until he spotted the spoon. Chuckling, Michael popped the lid open, scooped a bit of the yoghurt and crushed mango on the spoon, and carefully fed it to his bub, making sure not to spill anything since he'd forgotten to pack his bib. Geh Ge nearly swallowed the spoon in his haste to eat, making him jump and pull the spoon back as carefully as he could before he accidentally gagged.
"Slow down there, Bub. You'll make yourself sick," he scolded softly, only giving him another spoonful when Geh Ge stayed where he was. "That's it. Better to savour it, right?"
Geh Ge grinned at him, mouth still full. Michael caught some of the mango running down his chin before it could get too far.
With three more spoonfuls, they were finished. He picked Geh Ge up and washed his sticky face and hands as his bub laughed, clapping his hands as he reached for Michael's face. Obliging, he lowered his head and let him play with his face, small hands running over his cheek and touching his scars just as curiously as he had done when they first met. He smiled when Geh Ge's hands reached his mouth, chuckling when he let out a surprised gasp in response to feeling his breath tickle his hands.
"Daaaa…" he tried to say, making his smile only grow.
"Yep, that's me! It's Dad-dy. Do you think you can say that? You've gotten pretty close."
Geh Ge tilted his head to the side, letting go of his face. "Daaaa…deee?"
He smiled, running his hands through his bub's short hair. "Close. Can you say your name?" he asked, knowing that that probably wasn't going to happen. "It's Gregory. Greh-gore-ree."
"Geh Ge!" he cried happily, face filled with delight. According to him, he'd gotten that right. Ah, serves him right; he'd have to try and teach his bub that his name wasn't actually Geh Ge.
"Ah, close enough. You'll get there, Sweetheart," he said softly, kissing the top of his head. Geh Ge cooed, raising his hand up and tugging at his collar so he could hide his face there. "Don't tell me you're tired already! You've only just woken up," he laughed, lifting his head and cracking his neck again. Now that he had stopped, his body was screaming at him for all of the work he'd put it through in such a short time.
He hated to admit that his uncle was right about rest.
"Interesting."
He winced, having completely forgotten that his uncle was in the same room. He'd been so quiet that entire time – what was he doing?
"What's so interesting?" he asked wearily, hoping this wasn't going to turn into another fight.
"He's very close to you," he pointed out.
He looked at his uncle, trying to figure out why he'd make such an obvious statement, but he was startled by the look on his face.
His eyes were filled with longing and…. jealousy.
Oh.
"What's wrong?" he asked, having a feeling that there was something more to his comment.
Henry turned away. "Nothing. Eat, fix the stools, and then meet me in the main room. You can clean more if you want," he muttered dismissively, retracting his previous statement. Before Michael could say anything, he left the room, but not before he heard him whisper: "She always loved you so much more than me."
-o0o-
The leftover pork he'd used to make his sandwich didn't taste as good as last night. It was dry and the bread stuck to the roof of his mouth and had him chugging down more water than actual food.
"Ahh beeh keee daah dee!" Geh Ge babbled, in front of him where he lay on the bench. He looked up from his sandwich and smiled at his bub. It seemed as though he could sense his sadness, because he frowned and rolled over onto his back and whined, reaching for him. Michael held out his hand, letting him grab onto one of his fingers.
"I'm alright; don't worry," he lied.
Truth was, Henry's words hurt him in a way he couldn't explain. Sure, Charlie loved playing with Michael, but that didn't mean she didn't love her father. He was just there as a playmate – he didn't sing her to sleep, make her bed, help her with homework, or give her toys. The idea that she would, made him feel guilty. And that hurt, because it wasn't his fault if she did anyway – which she didn't.
He shoved the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and rubbed his now free hand against his temple. He needed a good, long sleep. He just hoped he would be able to get it.
Geh Ge needed his nappy changed again but because he didn't dare see the state of the bathrooms, he just wiped him down in the staff room and changed him there. After that was done, he held Geh Ge up to the light, smiling.
"Feeling better?"
"Gah!"
Taking that as a yes, he wrapped him back in his jumper and slipped the sling back on. Making sure Geh Ge was secure, he let go and cleaned up after himself and put the nappy bag into the trash bag sitting in the hall. Then he picked up the stools under both arms and dragged them to Parts and Service.
Parts and Service was completely empty and devoid of anything mechanical aside from a box filled with spare electrical equipment and a few tool boxes on one of the shelves. While he was glad there was nothing inside, it was uncanny to him. He was so used to seeing so many shadowy figures lining the walls that having the room be empty was somehow worse.
Turning on the light, he dropped the stools on the main workbench in the centre of the room and got to work.
It was a simple fix. All he needed to do was fix the wobbly legs, and reattach one of the footrests. It only took ten minutes, which left him some time to eye the room. It was as large as the Parts and Service room back in eighty-seven, so there was plenty of space to sit animatronics in and enough elbow room for multiple people to work without bumping shoulders or accidentally knocking a mascot over. Seeing as he was there already and he had to go back to put the stools away… he may as well clean it while he was there, right?
And that was what he did.
The lights were so bright that they were almost blinding, forcing him to hide Geh Ge's face from their brilliant shine. At least they chased away the shadows that taunted him in the corner of his eye, letting him work in peace.
Seeing as he had already vacuumed the place, he just had to focus on wiping down the shelves and benches, making sure to check under them just in case. Much to his relief, he didn't find anything disgusting hiding underneath, and there were no infestations to be seen. The worst thing to happen was him sneezing when he wiped the top shelf with the toolboxes because he forgot to put a new mask on.
Feeling odd with how fast he had finished, he rummaged through the toolboxes and electrical equipment, making sure everything was safe. Most of it was (although there were a few exposed wires that would need to be safely disposed of), but his examination made him aware of one key problem: as far as he could tell, there were no fire alarms, fire extinguishers, or first-aid kits on this side of the building.
Groaning, he rubbed his irritated eyes with the back of his hand, mentally adding it to the ever-growing list of tasks he needed to complete. Honestly; Fazbear Entertainment had to be paying people to look the other way, because there was just no way they could keep getting away with this… right?
But what did he know? Anything was possible in a world where the dead didn't stay just that.
He checked his watch, choking on his own spit when he saw the time. How was it three already?
He rushed to put everything away in its proper place, only having a bit of trouble finding the exit. Behind the restaurant, he found the large, rusted waste bins that made him feel icky. The dark, cramped alleyway creeped him out, but he was able to stand it just long enough to throw the large, black rubbish bag into the trash and run back inside.
"I was starting to think you were planning on moving in," was the first thing Henry said to him when he finally made it back into the main room with his bags in tow.
"Sorry, but I plan on never having to spend another night in one of these places ever again," he said dryly, stopping to stand beside his uncle who was busy writing something down on a yellowed paper on the filthy table. Okay, he was throwing those covers away as soon as he could.
"You don't have to worry about that; you won't be."
"What? Then what are you going to do about this whole trap thing? Someone needs to make sure they don't get out of… of whatever you have planned."
Henry sighed, putting the pen down. "Michael, I told you to worry about it later. Besides, what I have in mind won't require a night guard. In fact, the only reason we will need a night guard is to make sure no one breaks in, and that's only for when this place starts to grow."
Michael was sceptical. "It's hard to believe you when you're keeping me in the dark. Especially since every other time you've done that, it has put me in danger," he added, scowling.
"Look! You're not going to die if you just do as you're told!" Henry suddenly snapped, glaring at him. "I'm not going to make any more mistakes. This is going to work!"
To Michael, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself that was the case, but before he could try and goad him into talking, he was interrupted.
"You should go home. I want you here by eight tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."
"And by 'we', you mean 'me'," he thought sourly. "Is it just more cleaning tomorrow? Or are you going to tell me a little bit about this plan of yours?"
Henry folded up the paper he had been writing in and pocketed both it and the pen in his breast pocket. "Cleaning? Yes. The plan? No. In fact, I don't want you to breathe a word of this plan to anyone. Only the higher ups know how we're going to trap them, but they have no idea what we'll be doing to them afterwards, so keep your mouth shut tomorrow. Some of the workers will be arriving to repair the building."
He pursed his lips, not a fan of being bossed around, but he didn't feel like getting into any more fights. "Fine. And you're sure we won't be paying for any of this?"
"Since we've 'technically' bought this from the original owner, they have to follow their own contract and repair any damages themselves."
"Sort of like a landlord."
"Exactly."
They stood in silence for a few seconds before Michael started getting antsy. He really felt like a shower right now.
"Well, I better go then," he muttered awkwardly, looking over at the entrance. Through the grimy door, the sun shone on the car outside invitingly. Before he could think about just what he was asking, he asked: "Are you staying here?"
His uncle looked at him from the corner of his eye, thinking his question over. "No. I hadn't arranged for anyone to pick me back up."
"Then who drove you here?"
"Daniela. She took the day off today for me."
Right. "Then no one's going to be getting here for a while then. It'll be late by the time you get home, I bet," he predicted, wanting to kick himself as every word came out because he knew where this was going. "Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked before he could stop himself. Damn it.
Michael hoped he would say no. If he said yes, that meant they had to be in the car together for two-and-a-half hours, and he didn't think he'd be able to handle that. They could barely handle the rare road trip together when their families insisted on travelling together during the holidays. Lord knows how it would work out when they were both adults now.
(Wording it like that made it sound like Henry was a child back then, but he may as well have been an angry teenager at best since he had beef with a twelve-year-old.)
"Alright," he answered after a minute of silent debate.
Oh no.
Whelp, Michael had asked, so he would just have to face the consequences.
Once they had left the building, his uncle locked the front door and had Michael pull the rusty shutter door down. With that done, they entered the old, purple car.
He immediately slipped the sling off and let Geh Ge settle down in his lap, turning to toss it over carefully with his bags on the back seat. He didn't miss the judgemental look on his uncle's face when he noticed the lack of a baby seat. Much to his relief, Henry didn't say anything, so neither did he.
The car rumbled to life, and he pulled out and onto the highway, driving the same way he always did – carefully. He hoped his uncle wouldn't have anything to say about that either.
Hopefully the two of them would simply agree not to say a word to each other for the next two-and-a-half hours.
-o0o-
The drive was awkward with how silent it was. The only noise inside the car was the hum of the air-con and engine, the whistle of the wind sliding over the car, and Geh Ge's babbles and chirps in his lap. At some point, Geh Ge had managed to sit up and lean against his stomach, but he was so curious about Henry that he reached out to him and cooed, clearly wanting attention.
All Henry had done was look at him wearily before turning his head to stare out the window. Geh Ge wasn't happy with that answer at all.
Since they were on the long, never-ending highway with no one in sight, Michael was able to use the steering wheel with one hand safely. Patting his bub's head and letting him play with his hand was enough to stop him from having a crying fit right then and there.
But really, it wouldn't kill Henry to at least smile at him, would it?
A part of him said he should be gentle, since Geh Ge was clearly a sore reminder, but then he remembered Ms. Olivia, and realised his behaviour was far from acceptable. But when he thought like that, he felt guilty. Even though he hated the man, he didn't want to demonize him… but then he would remember all of those kids and how their deaths could have been prevented if he just did something. It would probably have landed him in prison, but Hurricane would still have five extra kids in it and terrified parents would finally get closure.
Was it because – in comparison to his father – Henry wasn't as abhorrently evil and he wanted to tell himself that just because he was the last living adult he had left from his childhood? Or was it because there were years of manipulation behind their reunion that still made a small part of him put the blame on himself?
By the time they reached town, he was squirming in his seat, but not because he needed to go to the bathroom or anything. He wanted to ask a dangerous question, and he wasn't sure if he would prefer an answer or a rejection.
"Why do you hate me?"
Simple and to the point, but when it came to his uncle, the answer would probably be devastating. Maybe… maybe everything he had said to him back then had simply been Henry projecting all of his own frustration and guilt on him instead, but that didn't explain everything before then.
"Michael! Stop, stop; you're going to miss the turn!" Henry suddenly barked.
He jumped, snapping out of his thoughts long enough to take the turn before the light turned orange. His hands were shaking – that happened a lot when he thought about Henry and his father for too long.
"Were you even paying attention to the road?"
"I was," he muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. "I just didn't hear you."
"I noticed. I said your name three times before you snapped out of whatever daze you were in," Henry said, turning back to the road and looking out for his home. "It's number twelve. Should have a crooked mailbox because a learner accidentally knocked it over."
He just hummed in acknowledgement, not trusting his tongue. His thoughts were stepping into dangerous territory. The sun had bathed the town in gold by now, and he would be grateful to get home. Geh Ge was starting to get impatient from sitting in one place for so long, even if he'd taken the brief time to stop and get Mangle out for him to play with.
Near the end of the block was when he spotted it. Sitting on the left was a tiny house that looked like it would collapse in on itself if he even breathed on it too hard. The windows were covered by old curtains, the grass went up to his knees, and the mailbox was slightly bent over, just like he said. How was it still standing?
He pulled into the barely visible driveway and parked, getting out. It hadn't been his intention, but from pure instinct when he was with Ms. Olivia, he went around the car and helped Henry up. Before he could hear him say thank you (if he even would) he darted to the mailbox and stood it upright, smacking its top a couple of times until it was back under the soft earth. If there was no rain for a while, then the ground would hold it in place and nothing short of another wandering car would knock it off its feet.
"So you wanted me there by eight?" he asked, turning to his uncle who hadn't moved far from the car.
"Yes, I did."
"Alright. Do… is anyone picking you up?" he asked again, wanting to kick himself for his constant questions that could invite Henry to stay with him.
Henry's face was unreadable. "I'll find a way there. I'm not fond of being in there," he said, nodding at the car.
He was about to ask why when he remembered just who had used it before him. "Okay. I'll… see you tomorrow then," he said awkwardly, sitting himself back in the driver's seat. He only left once he was sure Henry was inside.
Touching the steering wheel after that made his stomach churn. Tire tracks had been seen at the scene of Charlie's death, and, from what he'd reluctantly read when he got out of the hospital, her autopsy concluded she died immediately after having her neck snapped. His father's hands had touched this wheel not long after that…
As soon as he got to the apartment, he snatched the bags up and slipped the sling over his shoulder, tucking Geh Ge in before getting out and locking the car, putting as much distance from it as quickly as he could because he was starting to feel like the twist in his stomach was threatening to make him vomit.
Speed walking into the building, he raced up the stairs, not running into anyone until he hit the second floor. Steve and Ash looked at him.
"Heya, Michael! Was wondering where you were," Steve greeted with a wide wave.
Ash, on the other hand, scrutinized him. "You alright? You look a little pale."
He raised a hand to his face and touched it, wincing at how hot it was. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling a little sick. I had an… interesting day."
"Yeah, Ms. Olivia told us you were out today," Steve said. "Oh! But you won't believe what I heard today," he added with a wide grin. Michael could feel himself getting worse because he already knew what was coming. "I got a phone call before one, and it turns out that our old guy's out and we've got a new boss! They're finally cleaning that dump up, so we won't be able to go back to work til next week."
Ash looked at him. "Are you sure you can get through a week without pay?"
"As long as the new guy doesn't half our wages like the last guy."
He was definitely going to vomit.
"What about you, Michael? What did you do to–"
"I'm sorry," he blurted out, interrupting Ash. "I'm really not feeling well. I'll talk later," he rushed out, darting up the stairs.
"I wonder if he ate something funny," he heard Steve say to Ash.
He didn't bother knocking on Ms. Olivia's door. Instead, he just ran inside, dropped his bags and quickly undid the sling and placed Geh Ge down on the mattress. His bub cooed in confusion as he shot over to the bathroom, ignoring him as he hurled up the contents of his lunch into the toilet.
Often in the past, he would throw up into a bucket in the office, which only made the small room smell worse, but he couldn't just hurl on the floor. The stress and realisation of: 'Oh, the stories are true, and there are dead bodies in there and they want to kill me and oh God, Foxy's running down the hall–'
"Is everything alright, Dearie?" he heard Ms. Olivia call from his front door. "You don't sound too good."
The first wave was over long enough for him to get up and wash his face, although his nose was burning. It had been a while since it had gone through his nose too. "No," he croaked out as loud as he could, flushing the toilet.
"Do you want me to grab Ash?"
"C-can you– can you open the window?" he coughed out. "The door's unlocked."
The door creaked and he heard the click of the window's latch being undone, but from there, he didn't hear anything else since he found his head in the toilet again. Not long after that, there was a clamour of footsteps up the hall and he groaned, not ready to be confronted about the day.
How would any of them react to finding out he was the new 'owner' of a Freddy's location? Alex and Jamie probably wouldn't care, but Ms. Olivia would worry, things would get awkward with Steve, and Ash would fret.
He jumped when a hand was suddenly placed on his back, nearly hitting the back of his head on the sink's exposed piping. "It's alright. It's just me," Ash said. "What happened?"
Michael just shook his head, feeling worse when he could hear Geh Ge crying in the background. He tried to get up, but Ash pushed him back down. "Ms. Olivia's taking care of him. You look stressed more than sick. Does this have… something to do with that uncle you told us about last night?" he asked softly.
Without thinking, he nodded his head, immediately regretting it. "It's… fine," he gurgled out, gagging on another wave of acid, even if he was pretty sure his lunch was already gone.
Ash didn't say anything. Instead, he suddenly started to run the sink. He would have looked to see what he was doing if he didn't feel like he was about to faint. His head was throbbing and the world was very fuzzy-looking. Eventually he stopped, but his throat felt like it was on fire by the time he was done.
"Here," Ash said, holding out a face wash soaked in warm water. He ran it over his face gratefully, the heat waking him up a bit and clearing his head. He wiped at his nose until the smell was gone and then wiped his mouth. "Steve got you this, too," he added, holding out his water bottle. He took that too, sitting up enough to rinse his mouth out before actually drinking. It hurt, but it got rid of the foul taste of bile.
He slowly leaned off the toilet and sat against the wall, tilting his head back to try and clear it. Ash flushed the toilet and shut the lid before sitting next to him. "How are you feeling now?" he asked.
Michael shrugged, swallowing. "Tired. Stressed. Hungry. Sad."
"A lot of things," he hummed to himself. "What about anything physical?"
"Head hurts. Body hurts. Shaky."
"Alright. Let's get you cleaned up then. You should have a shower while we get you something to eat–"
"Wait! Wait, no, it's fine," he stuttered, stumbling to his feet. "I'm fine."
Ash smiled. "Don't worry, 'bout it. Just let us help."
Help sounded so nice, and he was so tired. "Okay," he mumbled. "My pyjamas are always sitting at the end of the mattress after I change."
Ash nodded, then disappeared. Through the thin wall, he could hear them talking.
"Right, well, he's not looking too hot, so he's gonna need some help. You don't have to if you don't want to."
The group whispered to each other before he continued. "Okay, good. Alex, Jamie; I'm getting him to have a shower. Can you take his clothes down and start running them in the wash once he's in?"
"Sure!"
"No problem."
Michael dragged himself to his feet and over to his shower, taking his shirt off as he did so and sitting it on the sink.
"Steve, can you get some of the leftover chicken from my fridge? It's already shredded up and is in a plastic tub. We should make him something soft and warm so we don't make him sick again."
"I can do that. Anything else?"
"Uhhh… if I remember right, I'm pretty sure I have a little tin of sweet corn in my cupboard that I never ended up using. Should be sitting right up the back."
"On it," Steve said, leaving the room.
"What were you planning to do, Ash?" Ms. Olivia asked.
"Mum used to make me some creamy chicken soup whenever I felt off. It's just one tin of sweet corn, a little packet of noodles, some shredded chicken, a tiny bit of chicken stock, and some chives. Really nice, and it's easy on the stomach. You barely have to chew anything, so it's good for sore gums and all that too."
"Sounds nice. I'll take care of Geh Ge."
"Sounds like a plan. I'll get his pyjamas."
A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened and Ash held out his clothes, freezing when they looked at each other. Ash's gaze fell on his stomach with a frown. Michael looked down as well, realising with a jolt that he'd never worn anything other than long-sleeved shirts, meaning every scar was visable.
"What's that?" he asked, quickly looking up and sputtering to take his question back. "Ah, that's rude! You don't have to tell me a thing!" Despite that, his eyes landed on his arms too.
The scar from his brief altercation with The Scooper was smack-bang in the middle of his torso. Starting from just above his crotch, the scar travelled over his navel and stopped just short of the bottom of his ribcage. He'd literally dodged death by inches. If scraping against its scalpel-sharp edge was enough to rip the skin off so cleanly, who knows what it would have done to the rest of him. It would probably have done more than just rip out his organs. As for the ones on his arms – they were from his efforts to protect his face (not liked it worked. He had those scars on his face for a reason.) when one of the animatronics went wild when he was tinkering with them, and… from himself when he was a kid. It was better to not think of the latter, otherwise he'd only feel worse.
Michael sighed, taking the pyjamas from him. "It's just from an accident. They all are. Don't worry; I'm fine. I got them all when I was younger," he clarified, shooting down anymore questions. Much to his relief, Ash took the hint and excused himself.
He locked the bathroom door and finished getting undressed, only opening the door enough to drop his clothes at the front, before he hopped into the shower. The water was nice and warm, and it felt good to wash all of the dust and filth from himself. He scrubbed at his hair, hands, and face in particular, all three feeling distinctively worse than the rest. His hands felt the worse, but he knew that no matter how many times he washed them, the feeling would never go away. It would always come back once he grabbed that blasted steering wheel.
It didn't take long to finish up and dry himself off, but that was because he didn't want to waste everyone's time. Sure, they were volunteering to do these things, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty for taking up their precious time.
Once he was dressed, he stepped outside and found that both his clothes, jumper, and the sling had disappeared. The rings, however, were sitting on the counter by Ms. Olivia, who was staring into the microwave, watching the bowl inside slowly move around.
Ash noticed him and smiled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You look a little better. Can you clean Gregory off too? He's a little dirty too," he said, handing his bub over.
"Of course."
He retreated back into the bathroom and wiped the sink down thoroughly before he filled it up with warm water and washed Geh Ge off. For some reason, Geh Ge didn't play like he always did, which was odd. Instead, he was staring at Michael, eyes filled with an uncanny amount of emotion that babies shouldn't have. He hoped it was just his imagination, but it felt like he was staring into his soul.
After a few seconds into their staring contest, Geh Ge gave him a big smile and giggled. "Daaah Deee!" He relaxed immediately. He must have just been imagining things – today had been a long, stressful day.
"That's me! How do you feel now, hmm?" he asked, running a bit of the water over his head just to make sure he was getting rid of any irritating dust that may have stuck to his skin.
Geh Ge stuck his tongue out and gurgled, splashing his hands in the water. There he was; back to normal.
Once they were done, he dried him off and wrapped him up in one of the smaller towels, stepping outside to find some warm clothes. He managed to get Geh Ge in a new nappy and clean pyjamas, before he noticed that the whole room smelt good, making his mouth water a bit.
"That smells good," he said, looking over Ms. Olivia's shoulder. She nodded, taking the time to smile at him before she turned her attention back to the food. He looked around the room remembering to pick his bags up and clean them out. "Where are the others?"
"Since this sort of thing is rather sensitive, they decided to stay out of it. They're happy to help, but you know… we all like keeping our secrets," Ash explained, leaning against the wall. "Which brings us to why you were sick. You don't have to tell us, but we're worried; especially after what happened last night. Does it have something to do with that?"
He sighed, hugging Geh Ge. "Yes. I met with my uncle and… well, it didn't go smoothly. I have to see him tomorrow morning."
Ms. Olivia looked over at him, a harsh frown on her face. "What's this man's name? I'd like to have some words!"
The mental image of her getting into a fight with his uncle was funny, but it made him feel guilty. She shouldn't be fighting for him – not when he had such horrible secrets. "You're… not going to be happy if I tell you. It's for the best that you don't know."
She pulled the bowl out, finally turning to him. "What has he done?"
"He's forced me into doing a dangerous job for him, and if I don't comply… well, I don't know what would happen," he lied.
Ash crossed his arms. "What sort of job?" he asked slowly.
"Steve works at that Freddy's location out on the highway, right?"
"Yes."
"Well… it's me. I'm the new owner he was talking about."
There was silence for a few seconds as they stared at him. Ms. Olivia was the first to talk. "What. Why!?"
He shrugged, curling in on himself to look smaller. "Because I've always done what I was told. I have to do this."
Ash raised his hand, cutting Ms. Olivia off from her potential outburst. "How can running a restaurant be dangerous? I mean, I've heard about their abhorrent business practices, but if you're an owner, what's the danger?"
"It's like you said; it's their business practices. Their lawyers are a nightmare to deal with, and so many people would be clamouring to slap us with lawsuits… I'm just worried things will get ugly." He paused, wondering if he should tell them about the other danger. "There's also the wild animatronics wandering around? Have you heard?"
They nodded. "We have. It's terrifying."
"Well, that's one of the dangers of running one of those restaurants. I could end up attracting their attention, and I don't want anyone getting hurt, especially since it's been proven that they're lethal."
Ms. Olivia crossed her arms, upset. "But you have a son! Surely your uncle should be thinking about you two first, right?"
Michael shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that's not the case."
Ash looked between the two before he turned to Michael. "Maybe we should go tell Steve. He could give you some advice on what everyone wants."
"I'm not sure…"
"What? Are you afraid he's gonna be angry about that?"
"Well, I haven't exactly proven myself to be a capable leader or someone who's strong," he muttered. In his mind, he had been quite pathetic. If he was Steve, he would have his doubts.
Ash sighed. "If it's that concerning, then you can keep it a secret until they all get there next week. Hell, if you do a good job and get the place looking good, they'll think of you highly before they even see you."
While his words were supposed to be encouraging, it only made him feel even more stressed out. But he gave him a strained smile anyway. "Thanks, you two. I'm sorry for being such a mess."
Ash nodded and turned to Ms. Olivia. "We should head off and let him get ready for tomorrow. Is that alright with you?"
"It is." He rubbed at his burning eyes. "Thank you two again," he couldn't help but repeat.
Before he could keep going, they wished him good night and excused themselves with one last comment. "Need anything, and we'll pop in, okay?"
"I will. Goodnight."
-o0o-
The soup was surprisingly filling since it didn't look like much. It tasted good and just like Ash had said, it was easy to eat and made him feel significantly better. Eventually it was Geh Ge's time for dinner, and his bub took to it as happily as usual.
After brushing their teeth, he forced himself to wash the dishes and tubs before dashing downstairs to find his clothes and put them in the dryer. After that, he closed the useless window and sat down on the mattress. With not much to do, he put his phone on charge and leaned against the wall, playing with Geh Ge.
As he rolled the large, red ball in front of his bub, his mind drifted away. It was seven by now, and he wasn't entirely sure he would be able to stay up for the last forty minutes it would take for the dryer to finish. Geh Ge was certainly starting to get tired, yawning every ten seconds as his interest in the ball rapidly declined.
"Tired, Bub?" he asked, laying him down so he could get him ready for bed. "Me too."
Geh Ge yawned in response, kicking his legs lazily. He smiled, gently running his hand over his head and brushing some of his brown hair away from his eyes. He could already tell that his hair was going to be a problem when he got older. But that wasn't a bad thing.
He was just about to consider trying to continue his work on Fredbear when he suddenly remembered about that stupid contract he'd been assigned to read.
Groaning, he rolled over and dragged his bag over so he could pull the contract out. Unfortunately, if he wanted to read it, he'd have to leave their room. He wasn't about to leave the lights on – that would be inconsiderate for his bub.
So, he (reluctantly) got up and quietly left their room, pocketing his keys as he made his way to the ground floor. The lighting was a little better down there anyway.
The first thing he read was the exact same spew of legal nonsense that had been thrown at him by old Scott on his first night. In fact, it looked like it was a direct copy-paste, because it still mentioned the characters 'wandering', being quirky, and the bite of eighty-seven like it had only happened two years ago. That was enough for him to know that whatever else was in the contract was definitely going to be even more nonsensical.
As a franchisee, you are responsible for the health and safety of both your customers and staff, which is why any complaints about 'attacks', or 'disappearances' in your neighbourhood will immediately be sent from our headquarters, to your mailbox. You will receive no support if legal charges are made against you, and you will be immediately silenced if you try to spill company secrets.
Because of the natural danger that comes with owning one of our many establishments, we recommend that you cover your tracks and keep any company secrets to yourself. Whistleblowers will not be tolerated, so if you suspect there is one working in your restaurant, feel free to fire them as soon as possible.
Of course, we are not confirming that there is any danger at all, but if there is, be sure to sweep whatever damage is done under the rug, and seek out our trusty lawyers. They've kept Fazbear Entertainment up and running for half a century now, so you know you can trust them to pin the blame on anyone other than us. After all, we cannot afford to have our good name slandered with any more lies from the superstitious and paranoid public who still believe we are in the wrong. (Which we are not.)
We also encourage our franchisees to cut costs and corners as much as possible, as to not waste resources! That includes ignoring this trend of using 'recyclable' and 'environmentally friendly materials', as it costs far too much when we already have perfectly good plastic knives, forks, and plates! Switching to using paper and wood would only make our job harder, and dig into our funds, and we don't want that. After all, why waste all of that money when you can just reuse what you already have?
There are also service providers that we highly recommend utilising, as they have been working with us closely for generations! Such services include: 'Cheapskate Plumbing and Electrical', 'Mediocre Maintenance', 'Money Savvy Cleaners', and, of course, 'Catastrophic Construction'.
Now that you understand our rules and expectations, you, in particular, have been given a special task. Which leads us into:
SPECIAL OBLIGATIONS
Well, it was just as scummy and below the belt as he thought it would be. They couldn't even be bothered to format the contract correctly. How could this possibly have been proved as legally binding? It was rubbish!
He was halfway through the first paragraph of his 'special obligations' when he heard the dryer beeping. Getting up, he retrieved his washing and retreated back upstairs. He slowly opened his door and folded their things as carefully as possible so as not to wake his bub up, before putting them away.
He sat on the floor just outside his door to try and keep reading, but he reached paragraph four and he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore. He threw the contract on the countertop without giving it another glance, locked his door, then went to bed, knocking himself out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
-o0o-
It is expected that at the end of every day when the restaurant has been closed and the staff have gone home, that you check the back alley of your restaurant before leaving. Some items of interest could appear and turn out to be very valuable. If you find something unusual, you are to bring it into the restaurant and seal it in one of our secret rooms under the facility. Once inside, you are to experiment on it by playing specific sets of audio and visual stimuli, which will be provided to you upon confirmation that what you have found fits our criteria. (Mentioned below.)
The criteria for these items of interest are the following:
It is larger than a human or is humanoid in shape.
It resembles an animal in one way or another.
It is made out of animatronic parts sourced from Fazbear Entertainment.
It appears to be old and worn down.
It smells unusual.
It shows any signs of movement when left alone.
It has the ability to talk.
It is aggressive.
It has a reaction when in contact with commonly believed items that protect its wearer from the supernatural, such as jade pendants, rosaries, religious texts, and other similar items.
Four are expected to turn up over the course of this year. Failure to produce results and gather the four into the building will result in termination of your contract.
TO BE CONTINUED…