INFORMATION
Written by: Pinkpony4
Chapter Word Count: 14'255
Published on FanFiction: 25th of October
Published on AO3: 25th of October
Reason for missed upload: Busy week!
Chapter 15: Seeing Ghosts
Michael winced as he trudged down the stairs, his head throbbing.
He'd woken up at five in the morning with a heavy headache and an empty stomach. He'd managed to eliminate some of it with some painkillers and food, but it was a persistent little thing. He was sure that it would have gone away eventually, but the universe had other plans, as a group of teens decided that that morning was a great opportunity to pull a prank.
What was the prank? Oh, only causing the twenty cars in the car park on the other side of their apartment building to go off, waking up anyone within a five-mile radius. It didn't go down well for them. When he peeked his head out of the useless window, he could see ten teenagers getting arrested by some very pissed-off cops.
Michael felt no sympathy for them, seeing as they were the reason his poor bub had woken up crying.
But now, Geh Ge's head was resting on his collarbone, drifting further into sleep every time he ran a hand over his head. Aside from Michael's head, he felt odd; like he was drifting through the building – not fully there, but conscious enough that he didn't run the risk of falling over.
Rubbing at his eyes, he took the last set of steps and paused, surprised. All of his neighbours were on the ground floor, sitting down on the couches. Steve had somehow knocked himself out despite the noise, and Ash was drifting away beside him.
"Good morning," he said softly to Alex and Jamie, who were the only ones that seemed wide awake. They returned it, Alex yawning.
"So the horns woke you up too?" Jamie asked, rubbing at her eyes.
"Headache," he corrected.
Ms. Olivia, who was sitting on the second couch, nodded in understanding. "Mmmhm. Are you feeling better today?"
He nodded, face growing a little red. "Yeah. Sorry for breaking down again," he muttered.
Ash, mumbled something incoherent, making Ms. Olivia smile. "We all have our bad days. I suppose you're going out to work?"
Alex and Jamie looked at him curiously. "Don't you start at six? You're cuttin' it pretty close."
"I… um… I got a different job. It's a long way away. I kinda have to go; I'll be in trouble if I'm late."
They looked like they wanted to press him for more questions, but they relented anyway. "Alright. And hey; don't sweat about last night. I once started crying because the milk was off without realising we had another in the fridge," Alex laughed, face going red.
"Thanks for the support. Makes me feel a lot better knowing that," he joked. She grinned before waving him off. "Move along. Like you said – don't wanna be late!"
"Okay; I'll see you this afternoon."
"Have a good day!"
"You too," he said, waving as he left.
It was cold outside, making him shiver and hold Geh Ge closer to his chest. That was odd. It was starting to get too warm for everyone's liking, so he shouldn't be cold at all.
He made his way towards the car, pausing when he saw something in the corner of his eye. Swivelling around, he tried to catch it, but he didn't see anything by his side. Shrugging he hopped into the car and started the two-and-a-half-hour drive to 'Feddy Fazbear's izza lace'. He must have just been seeing things.
-o0o-
When the small group of houses came into view, he was taken aback. Parking just off the highway, he hopped out and stared at the sight before him. Henry had told him that there would be a few workers coming by today. It seemed the two had very different views on what 'a few' meant.
Two trucks and five work vehicles were parked around the building, completely avoiding the car park itself. When he locked the car and stepped closer, he could see why.
While some of the workers had only just arrived, a group of men were spread out around the car park, repainting the parking spots and adding a pedestrian crossing. Closer to the back entrance of The Pizzeria, the bright-yellow lines reserved for the delivery trucks were also being repainted.
He watched as men and women stepped out of their vehicles and began to set up for the day. While some started to create a break spot next to the highway, the others were pulling on their high-res vests, and rubbing sunscreen over their faces, necks, and hands. He spotted (what he assumed to be) the supervisor, and walked up to him, starting to feel nervous. He knew he shouldn't be walking in a soon-to-be construction zone.
"Excuse me, Sir; are you the supervisor?" he asked, purely because the man had a clipboard and had just finished an intense phone call.
He glanced at Michael before looking back at his clipboard. "You Michael?"
"Yes. Am I allow–"
"Yeah, okay – you can head on in. Just leave by the back entrance later on. If we end up ahead of schedule, we'll be replacing the front doors. If we get past that, we'll get some guys in to fix the interior. Just stay out of our way," he snapped.
Not wanting to argue or piss off the irritated man, he nodded and ducked into The Pizzeria, scanning the main room for his uncle. When he couldn't find him, he moved further into the building, heading for the only clean room there; the Staff Room.
When he rounded the corner, he was surprised to see his uncle backing out of the room, speaking nervously. "Well, he's not here yet, but he will be! He's punctual!"
If he was talking about Michael, then yes – he was. Who he was talking to, however, concerned him. Who would want to talk to him anyway? Judging by the way his uncle's hands shook when he shut the door and gripped his cane, he seemed stressed.
He started to pace on the spot, body swaying dangerously with every step. That was definitely worrying. "Henry?" he called out. "Are you okay?"
Henry whirled around, bumping into the wall with wide, terrified eyes. "There you are! Where were you?"
"What do you mean? I'm thirty minutes early," he pointed out, frowning. "Who were you talking to?"
He ran a shaky hand through his wispy, white hair. "The– one of The Company's representatives. He wanted to talk to you. I didn't know he was coming and he got here early and was trying to get me to talk, but then he asked to see you," he hissed, looking around the hall like more of The Company's reps would suddenly appear.
Michael started to sweat a bit. "What does he want?"
"He's trying to… I don't know; I just know he's up to something. There'd be no other reason to just turn up unannounced. He may be trying to get some information out of me… or you. Just–" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Just don't say anything about our plan, alright?" he hissed.
"Not like I have anything to tell him," he thought. Instead, he nodded. "Okay. Let's just… let's just get this over with," he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he straightened himself up, rolled his shoulders back, and raised his head up so he could make himself look more intimidating.
"Again? Michael – when are you going to get them to stop pushing you around like that?" Daddy sighed, setting down his newspaper.
He lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he mumbled, voice wavering horribly.
"Hey; look at me, Mikey."
He did as he was told, bottom lip quivering. Despite the ice pack he had pressed against his left cheek, it still throbbed from where the bully had punched him. With his eyes on Daddy, he nodded and straightened up.
"If you don't want to be pushed around, you have to look confident, Mike. Bullies pray on others for three reasons. They're either: neglected and looking for an outlet for their anger, jealous of what you have, or view you as weak. So! What you need to do is hold yourself well and cool your expressions – don't let them know what you're thinking. Look:" Daddy ordered.
He watched as Daddy straightened himself up, rolled his shoulders back, and raised his head so that he was looking down at him. That was the way he always looked when they were in public. No one ever questioned Daddy when he looked like that. No one ever bullied him or said bad things. (At least not to his face.)
Daddy looked at him expectantly. He quickly copied his actions, making sure to hold his head high. Daddy nodded in approval.
"Good, good. Another important thing to remember is to hold eye contact. That shows them that you aren't afraid. Keep your voice firm and calm. If you waver, they'll be on you in seconds. Show no signs of weakness."
When he did as he was told, looking Daddy right in the eyes with a stern look on his face (he forced the lump in his throat down), Daddy nodded in approval once more. "Good! Remember, Michael: you're an Afton! No one messes with an Afton, understand?"
He opened the door, immediately locking eyes with the man sitting at the island bench. He was dressed in a freshly ironed suit, his hair was greasy with gel, and his hands were clasped together. He met Michael's gaze evenly. Michael hoped the smile on the man's face wasn't a malicious one, but that smile made him feel like a wounded animal about to be pounced on by a lioness.
"So… you must be Michael Afton, correct?" the man asked in a cold voice.
"Show no signs of weakness," his father's voice repeated in his head, making him wince. Dammit – he was actually going to listen to the bastard's advice for once. "I just have to be like him," he thought, wanting to vomit at the idea.
"Yes, th-that's me." That's me? Urrrg, that was hardly formal. He mentally cursed his uncle as he sat down and pulled one of the stools out for him invitingly. The only thing that gave him any sense of comfort as he took his seat, was that Henry looked just as frazzled as he felt. He faced the man, giving him a fake smile as he did his best to look as pleasant as possible. It would do him no good to look annoyed in front of… well, someone who was his superior now.
At the very least, he had some bare-bones experience when it came to these sorts of things. The constant scrutiny after he returned home from the mental hospital, the judging looks from the employers that had bothered to do some research on him, the times his father had dragged him to these sorts of business meetings: he knew just how cunning and sly everyone involved was. From what he had seen, Henry was the only innocent one in those rooms filled with sharks and snakes. That was what made him such easy prey, and it was what made him so easy to manipulate. Even back then, Michael had noticed that his shy, meek nature made it impossible for him to have control over any conversation.
Any conversation that wasn't with Michael, at least.
But damn his father's words. It was easy for him to say that sort of thing – he always had the stage when they did this sort of thing. Henry just sat in the corner and watched, practically hiding behind him the entire time. He wasn't sure he'd be able to rely on his uncle right now.
Despite his displeasure, he conjured up the clearest memory he had of his father, putting him in the setting of The Diner. In there, he was a completely different person and was treated more like a drill sergeant than as a boss. Michael wouldn't take it that far, but he'd need the confidence.
His father always wore a suit to work, which was out of the question for him. All he was wearing was a pair of jeans, shoes, and a button-down shirt; hardly anything compared to the man in front of him. But there was nothing he could do about that.
His father always had a straight back – he never slouched. He hated it when Michael would slouch. So Michael made sure to straighten his back when he noticed he was slouching in his seat. Like he had said, straight back, shoulders back, chin up, and firm eye contact – that always worked when he had to wrangle a particularly rowdy customer, employee, or investor that wasn't doing what he wanted. He tended to march towards them too, just to scare them.
He met the man's eyes and his smile turned into a sinister one – the one his father always had when he believed he had the upper hand. It often tricked his 'opponent' into believing they were losing. The man's smile faltered in response, eyes widening a bit. Michael didn't want to know what he looked like right now.
The only other advantage he would have was his voice. The way his father used it would often make the person he was talking to feel special, even if they weren't. It was easy to sway others with how calmly he would talk. To use his voice the way his father had, would require a certain degree of confidence and charm – both of which, he didn't have.
Well, he'd just have to put on a good performance. His mother was good at acting when she danced. He held out his right hand for the man to shake. The man took it, and Michael held it firmly. "I didn't expect to be meeting anyone today. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, noting the way the man tilted his head to the side. No doubt Michael suddenly looked and sounded like a different person.
In the corner of his eye, he could see Henry. For some reason, he looked scared. Why was that?
The man seemed pleased by his sudden change, however. He shook his hand just as firmly, smile widening. "I'm Axel James. I apologise for the sudden appearance, but Fazbear Entertainment had some concerns about you being the new owner. After all, we haven't had the chance to chat, and with your… interesting background, we just wanted to make sure you know what we expect from you."
He felt his left eye twitch at the mention of his childhood. "Of course; I'm happy to talk. I don't believe we have anywhere to be, right, Henry?" he added, looking at his uncle.
His uncle's eyes were as wide as saucers, mouth slightly parted. He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and nodded quickly, making a point to look away from him. How odd.
Axel grinned. "Great! Now, you see…"
-o0o-
Henry wasn't listening. He'd stopped listening when Michael started talking, because he'd felt like he was about to have a heart attack then and there when he heard his voice.
He snapped his head around, staring in horror as William shook the man's hand. "I didn't expect to be meeting anyone today. To whom do I owe the pleasure?" he asked. Henry felt like his soul was about to leave his body when William looked at him in the corner of his eye and grinned menacingly.
But– but that wasn't possible. The man was calling him Michael but that couldn't be Michael for many different reasons. One: Michael – while frighteningly similar to William – was not the man that currently sat next to him. Yes, his view of Michael was clouded after being separated for so long, but he had always been just as meek and shy as Henry himself had once been. He would never be bold enough to lean on the desk and clasp his hands together like he was planning something. He wasn't capable of having such a frightening smile, or such cold, calculating eyes that refused to look anywhere else aside from the man in front of them.
Two: Michael's voice was softer than William's, even after all of these years. His voice couldn't possibly be so low and cold, with every word dripping with insincerity and deceit.
Three: Michael was older than William – and most importantly – alive. Michael's hair was lighter and had specks of grey, scars littering his face so badly that they almost covered the slight wrinkles that had started to form. He had a soft smile, even if it had never been directed at Henry.
Four: he had a damn baby, and yet, he simply couldn't hear it. Surely it should be awake and making noise? Why was it so quiet? William didn't have children anymore, so why… why was he here? He couldn't be…
Five: William was always dressed well, his hair brushed and short. But Michael's hair was longer, and he didn't even have enough money to borrow a suit.
Henry knew this. Michael had been by his side not even a minute ago but– but it was like a switch had been flipped, and all of a sudden, he was no longer by his side.
William turned to him, smiling. His grey eyes were piercing right through him. "What do you think, Henry?"
He looked between the two. The man on the other side must have sensed his fear, because he was looking at him like he was an injured fawn. "P-pardon?" he asked, terrified that he may have missed something terribly important.
William tilted his head to the side as the man repeated his question. "Fazbear Entertainment has been trying to gain access to the storage facility in Hurricane. There is a lot of old equipment that can still be used, and it would be a great way to cut costs and save us the trouble of replacing and fixing arcade cabinets and the like. I heard that a lot of the equipment still worked before all of the previous locations were shut down."
Henry looked at him, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. "Why are you asking me?"
The man frowned. "Unfortunately, Fazbear Entertainment cannot enter the facility legally. Only the original founders can access the building. Since you've finally been released, Mr. Emily, we would… appreciate it if you gave us the security code."
Oh, right. "I don't remember it," he lied. Well, it was a half-lie. He remembered the clue, but not the number itself.
The man's smile fell entirely. William looked at him. "I remember it," he said, making Henry go pale. Michael wouldn't know the passcode. No – he couldn't. William turned back to the man and gave him a pleasant smile. "Unfortunately, I'll have to say no, however."
The man's right eye twitched, his smile faltering. "Really? I urge you to reconsider." He looked at Henry, gaze boring into him.
He smacked his lips together as he tried to speak, his tongue feeling swollen and his mouth dry. All of a sudden he was back in the meeting room filled with their first investors. They would have happily ripped him and his dreams apart if he didn't have William to hide behind as a pillar of confidence.
Before he could answer, William shook his head. "I've considered the risks and benefits of letting you have access to the facility, but it would be unwise. We wouldn't want anyone wandering in and getting hurt, now, would we?" he asked coyly, grinning. "I think our little friends in town would be happy to investigate if they found out it had been opened. We don't want any more accidents."
The man's face paled as his words finally sunk in. He swallowed, curling in on himself as William stared him down. "I– yes, of course. You're right; absolutely right. Yes, yes, we wouldn't want that. I'll… I'll just have to tell my superiors that," he stuttered out, looking around nervously. Sweat had started to gather on his forehead when he met William's eyes again. He looked like he was about to run from the room in sheer terror alone.
And just like that, William's expression changed. His smile returned (now smug), and his eyes twinkled with arrogant pride. "Well, I'm glad we could sort that out," he said cheerfully with a clipped voice. He stood up and held his hand out for the man to shake. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Mr. James."
The man shook his hand, quickly withdrawing. He was visibly shaking in his seat. "Ye– yes, it was. Hopefully we… we won't be bothering you again," he laughed nervously.
"I hope so," William said sweetly, opening the door for the man. "Would you like me to walk you out?"
"NO! I mean– no, that's quite alright; I'll find my way," he nearly shouted, stumbling out into the hallway. "Ah– goodbye!" he choked out, before speed-walking down the hall.
William smirked. "The front entrance is closed for repairs. You will have to take the second exit down the back there," he called out, pointing further down the hall.
The man's eyes widened as he spun around, face beet-red. "Of course! Hah, silly me! Thank you and goodbye!" he shouted. This time, he sprinted down the hall. Not long later, they heard the back door slam shut.
Henry gripped his cane tightly, trying to even his breathing and stop himself from attacking William. If he struck him, he wouldn't win in a fight. That bastard was strong, and in his current state, he'd easily snap him in half. Henry had seen him drag the mascots to Parts and Service despite their size. Henry needed help to do the same thing.
William turned to him, placing one arm under the baby sling and raising the other to pat the sleeping baby's head.
"Are you alright, Henry?"
And just like that, the switch was flipped and Michael was back.
-o0o-
"Of course! Hah, silly me! Thank you and goodbye!" Axel shouted, making him wince. Much to his amusement, he watched as he sprinted down the hall. Not long later, he heard the back door slam shut. He let out a sigh of relief, finally relaxing.
He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his temple, feeling far more exhausted than he had any right to be.
Acting like his father was so… draining. It felt like the longer he went on, the more of him slipped away. His headache was back, and he felt like slamming his head into the door until the mental image of his father was gone. It felt like he was still in there – like he'd just possessed him solely to sweet talk that idiot into giving him what he wanted with nothing in return.
In all honesty, he didn't know he had it in him to trick someone like that.
It made him feel like shit.
And Henry… he hadn't been of any help. He had just stared at him the entire time like he'd seen a ghost.
God damn it.
He slowly turned around to meet his uncle's eyes, alarmed at just how faint he looked. "Are you alright, Henry?" he asked.
Henry blinked a few times, raising a hand to his head and dragging it down his face as Michael stared. He knew full well what he'd done, but he didn't think it would have been bad enough to affect his uncle this way.
He raised his hand and placed it on Geh Ge's head, gently brushing aside a few of his brown, curly locks away from his eyes. Geh Ge stirred in his sling, tilting his head up and scrunching his little nose up as he let out a big, loud yawn for the entire restaurant to hear. Michael smiled and continued to brush his hair, looking up and keeping his gaze locked on his uncle just in case he suddenly keeled over.
Geh Ge looked up at him and then wriggled in his confines until he was able to turn his head to look at Henry as well, clearly wondering why Michael was staring at him. Seeing Geh Ge seemed to snap his uncle out of whatever trance he was in.
"Nothing, nothing. You just–"
"I reminded you of him, didn't I?" he muttered. Henry just nodded. Michael sighed, raising his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Well, whatever. I didn't like it, but it worked. I think I just hoodwinked him into helping us with no reward. Was that the plan?" he asked, because he just wanted to work now and get this all over and done with. He couldn't stand the idea of acting like that for too long.
"I– yes. Yes, it was," he answered awkwardly, looking down at his cane.
Uncomfortable, Michael rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, sorry, but I didn't know what else to do! All I remember is those meetings he would drag me to and I have no one else to mimic." He paused, frowning. "You weren't exactly helping. Were you even listening?" he asked accusingly, already knowing the answer.
Henry shook his head.
Michael sighed. "Well, he was interrogating me about the contract and making sure I played along, but then he started trying to poke into my home life. He didn't get very far since I kept shutting him down. Then he brought up the facility." He moved his hand to rub his chin. "Have you really forgotten the passcode?"
"It's been thirty years; of course I have!" he snapped, too on edge. "How do you know it?"
"Father told me," he said flatly. "When I was sent down, he gave me the passcode. Three, nine, five, two, four, eight."
Just like that, it clicked. Of course William would have told him; how else would he get in? "Oh," was all he said. Silence fell between them once more, making Michael sigh.
"I'm honestly surprised they haven't just broken in and stolen anything. Do you think it was a good idea to refuse them?"
He nodded. "Yes, it was. They'll make too much noise, and we don't want the others to find out that it's open. Especially William."
Michael let his hand fall from Geh Ge's head, making his bub whine. "But he did have a point. The last time I was there, there was a lot of stuff that was still working. But… well, no, no one's been there for thirty years, so it'll all be in disrepair anyway."
Henry shook his head, humming. "I don't think so. There could be something we can use. I hadn't really thought about the facility, but… it may come in handy. Maybe there's something there that can help us with our plan."
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because this was hardly his plan. "So, you wanted to lure them in, but you don't know how to get rid of them?" he asked incredulously.
Henry squirmed, glaring at him. "I figured you just destroy them the way you would destroy anything! But maybe there's something there that could explain how– how all of this works in the first place!"
"I already know. It's the metal they're possessing – specifically the motherboard. That's how they're able to move around. From what I can tell, freeing them is a two-step process. One: let them rest by giving them what was taken. Two: destroy the motherboard after convincing them to rest. That allows them to wander around post-destruction. After that, however… I believe it's up to them on where they go."
His uncle stared at him with wide eyes. "How do you know all of this? How can you be sure?"
"Because of two particular kids: Charlie and Cassidy," he said, ignoring the pained look on Henry's face. "I managed to give Charlie what she wanted, and in turn, she gave Cassidy what she missed – but for some reason, Charlie stayed behind and refused to leave her body, and she ran off before I could destroy it. As for Cassidy, I don't know where she is. Fredbear has been missing for a long time." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I believe that Gabriel, Jeremy, Susie, and Fritz, have all moved on. The only evidence I have is that when I went to find Father, I found the broken remains of the original four. When I picked up their heads, they didn't move at all. Usually they would, especially at night. I even looked right into Freddy's eyes, but I didn't receive a response."
"I… I thought you were just blindly experimenting with them. I didn't think you were doing anything successfully."
Michael crossed his arms, uncomfortable. "I thought I'd failed until I went looking for Father after the incident with Ennard. I found him in the Safe Room and locked him in. He wasn't too happy about that one," he muttered with a bitter chuckle. "That's why I tried to burn him – I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would get him to rest."
"…What did you give them?" Henry asked slowly.
"Susie died because she was looking for her dog. I found out where her dog had been buried and gave her the collar that had been left behind. Gabriel, Fritz, and Jeremy had all died on Jeremy's birthday, so I made them a cake and gave them each a piece. Charlie wanted a photo of our family all together, so I gave her one, and when she told me Cassidy wanted a cake, I gave one to her and Charlie tracked Cassidy down. As for Evan… he was the first one I freed. All he wanted was some cake and an apology."
Henry stared down at the tiled floor, knuckles white with how tightly he held onto his cane. "What about the second set? The ones that went missing in eighty-seven."
He shook his head. "I don't know; I couldn't find out who they had possessed. And the original five couldn't talk, so they couldn't tell me anything after I set them free. Charlie would know since she was one of the main animatronics there, but she can't talk. I assumed it may have been the Toy Animatronics, but they went missing after they were stored away."
"If she can't talk, then how did you find out what they wanted?"
"Charades," he answered, with no humour in his voice. Henry nodded.
When Henry said nothing else, Michael continued. "We won't be able to learn anything until we find Charlie. But even if we do, we can't just push a voice box into her – she's too old," he admitted, feeling bad for calling his precious cousin that.
Henry raised his head, an odd look in his eye. "I… I think I have an idea. Today… after we've finished some work here, you're taking us to the facility," he stated, leaving no room for argument.
Michael stared as his uncle's demeanour changed from sad and regretful, to borderline crazed excitement. Henry rummaged through his bag and pulled out a blue, rolled-up piece of paper. He shoved it into Michael's hands. "Go on! Open it!"
Raising a brow, he looked down at the piece of large paper before flattening it out on the bench. He stared, a little amazed at the size of the blueprint.
The restaurant was huge. It had to be just slightly smaller than the restaurant in eighty-seven. "Wow," he whispered, feeling overwhelmed. Geh Ge cooed in curiosity, wriggling until he could raise his head high enough to look. He looked back at Henry. "What do I do with this?" he asked, feeling a little dumb. While it was impressive, he didn't know why he was being shown this.
If Henry was still young, he could tell he would be practically jumping in place. "Since we're going to the facility today, we need to figure out where we're going to put everything, which means we'll have to scope the place out and make a list of anything noteworthy."
"But I thought some of the stuff there wouldn't work?"
"You said that, not me. We both know how long old things tend to last, though, don't we?" he said cheekily, already turning to leave the room. "Hurry up! I don't want to forget…"
Michael followed him slowly, eyeing the back of his uncle's head suspiciously. "Forget what?"
"I have another idea – for Charlie! But I need to go back; it's been so long since I've looked at the blueprints for an animatronic and I need to remember–"
"Wait, you want to build something?"
He continued on as though he hadn't spoken at all. "Do you have a pencil? And some paper or something like that? We need to write things down!"
Reluctantly, he reached into his backpack and took out his spare notebook and pencil. "Here," he muttered, still weary of Henry's downright erratic behaviour. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"
"What? No! Nononon! I just need to remember some things," he rushed out, finding and immediately scribbling on the first empty page he found.
Michael didn't believe a damn word, but he followed him, purely to keep an eye on him. "If you say so. But give the book back once you're done; I think your wrists will hate you if you keep that up," he warned. Henry just nodded, although whether he had actually heard him or not was up for debate.
Well, if they were going to go on a 'tour' of the restaurant, he knew exactly what to write down first. "Turn to a new page and write: 'First-aid kit, fire extinguisher, and fire alarm in every room.'. I haven't found a single one so far."
Henry nodded. From where Michael was, he could see a little bit of the book. He flicked to the next page to scribble that down before going back. Okay, so he was listening.
Michael examined every inch of the place as they walked, keeping note of every missing detail, every potential danger, and every potential problem. His brain was moving faster than his legs, as ideas began to spring to life just from looking around.
His fingers itched with the urge to start scribbling down his own thoughts, but he would simply have to be patient. Taking the lead with Henry close behind, he began to turn the place upside down.
But even with all of his attention on the building, he couldn't shake off his unease, and every now and then, he found himself wondering what had such a strong hold on his uncle's thoughts.
-o0o-
Eventually, Henry finished whatever he was doing and tore out his page. Before Michael could get a peak, both the pencil and the notebook were shoved into his hands.
"What were you writing about?" he asked innocently as he started to rapidly jot down the list he had mentally made for that section of the building.
"I was just trying to remember how the Security Puppet works. I could have sworn I gave him a voice box, but my memories are foggy," he answered. There was some truth to his words, but Michael could tell he was also thinking about something else.
"You did. But she would only be able to say things like: 'Intruder alert! Security alert! Security! Please leave the premises. Please step aside. Please, stay calm! Fire! Contacting emergency services,' and all that. I'm sure she could string a sentence or two out if she broke her words down and picked out certain syllables, but that's hard to do on the fly," he said, looking down to scratch out the last few items on his list.
To Add:
First-aid kit, fire extinguisher/blanket, fire alarm. – EVERY ROOM IN THIS BUILDING
More tools and equipment. – PARTS & SERVICE
More containers and shelving. – STORAGE ROOM
Extra flashlights, a new monitor, phone, and a list of the closest emergency services available. – SECURITY
Two new mats for the doors. – KITCHEN ACCESS
Keep in Stock:
Filtered water, dishwashing liquid, sponges, wash cloths, paper towels – anything else requested by staff (within reason). – STAFF ROOM
Bolts, spare lights, oil, rags, screws. – PARTS & SERVICE
Cleaning supplies. Replace old or broken equipment. – MAINTENANCE CLOSET
Batteries, files, paper, pencils, clipboards, printer ink, and pens. – SECURITY
"There we go. It's… a lot," he muttered, changing the conversation.
Henry glanced at it before shrugging. "Typical for a place this size, but we don't have to worry; The Company is legally bound to get this building back in working order," he said with a smug smile.
While his words were reassuring, he couldn't help but panic. There was no guarantee of success for this job – if he messed it up somehow and ruined everything… Fazbear Entertainment would have his hide for it.
They came to a stop at the kitchen's doors so that Henry could gather his strength, leaving Michael to enter the kitchen alone.
He opened the door and moved his hand along the wall, squinting in the dark until he found the light switch. The lights flickered for a solid ten seconds before they eventually decided to work, revealing the kitchen in all of its disgusting glory. God save the poor souls that would have to clean this up.
The place was so greasy that anything made out of steel was glossy. The stench was akin to what he imagined a McDonald's must smell like, yet somehow worse.
He only had to glance at the fryer to know that the oil hadn't been tipped out in a long time – and to make it worse, it wasn't even rigged to be tipped out properly. If someone so much as tipped their hand the wrong way, they'd get horribly scarred. That was guaranteed to happen on a busy day.
Michael was about to contemplate whether he was brave enough to look inside the pantry, when he suddenly saw something short and thick scurry over his foot. He let out a high-pitched squeal and bolted out to the hall in terror. He could handle the undead. He could handle death and the stench that came with it. He could handle the dark. He could handle seeing a man hanging in the distance. He could handle anything related to that sort of thing.
What he couldn't handle, were three things: maggots, worms, and cockroaches.
And one had just run out from under one of the counters and over his foot.
His face went red as Henry laughed at him, Geh Ge joining in at the infectious sound. He scowled, shooting his bub a childish glare before kissing the top of his head.
"It's not going to bite you!" his uncle wheezed from the door. Michael gathered the courage to face the kitchen again, just so he could glare at him. "Out of everything, you're scared of bugs?" he cackled.
"No. Not just bugs. Only cockroaches, worms, and maggots. I just don't like how fast they are. Who gave something so small the right to move so fast and fly?" he whined, whimpering in terror when it skittered toward the door. He slammed it shut stumbling back as Henry opened it just as fast. "Uncle Henry!"
His uncle suddenly lurched forward with his cane raised high, before slamming it down, flattening the little menace so hard that its insides spilled across the ground.
With a smile still dancing on his face, Henry opened the door again. "There we go; safe. Can we go now?"
Face burning, he took a far-too-wide step over its remains. He glanced at it one more time before he returned to the kitchen, knowing full well how persistent those things were.
"DADDY!" he screamed from his spot on top of the kitchen counter as he watched the black thing scurry along the ground. He whimpered as it ran towards him, but it didn't climb the side, much to his relief.
He had only been trying to get a drink of water! He wasn't going to be there for long, so he kept the light off, and the moon was shining so brightly that he wouldn't even need it! But then he felt something run over his foot and before he knew it, he was on top of the counter, crying.
Tears fell from his eyes as he screamed again, gripping the plastic cup like a weapon. The bug spray was under the kitchen sink… right where the cockroach was. He was too scared to jump down. It would follow him, he just knew. Or fly at his face and into his mouth like it did in his nightmares.
"DADDY HELP!" he screamed again, scrambling against the wall when it started to crawl up the fridge.
He heard a loud *thunk* come from upstairs, and then the rapid footfalls of bare feet against their wooden floors. Not long after, the lights were suddenly switched on, and Daddy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, a metal bat in his hands.
Daddy's head swivelled around quickly before his eyes locked on Michael and the cockroach. Without a second of hesitation, he stormed over, picked up yesterday morning's newspaper, and slammed it hard against the fridge. When he removed it, the bug's body fell and hit the tiled floor.
Michael watched it wearily, and when it didn't move after a few seconds, he looked at Daddy. His hair was sticking out at all ends, his eyes wide and alert, and his shirt was slightly unbuttoned.
Daddy looked at him and started to laugh, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Michael didn't find his predicament that funny, but when Daddy dropped the newspaper and walked over, his laughter died down to chuckles.
He threw himself into Daddy's embrace, wrapping his arms around his neck as he scooped him up from the counter. With one arm under his legs and one over his shoulders, he nuzzled his face into Daddy's neck, hiding as he continued to cry.
Daddy rubbed circles into his back as he slowly rocked back and forth, humming Swan Lake. Mummy had just finished a performance for that one. He closed his eyes and sighed, beginning to relax. He raised his head as Daddy turned his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"There we go; safe. It's not going to hurt you anymore, Mikey. That's it, it's okay," he whispered, raising his hand to gently brush his messy fringe away from his eyes. "Can you give me one of your adorable little smiles?" he asked.
Michael did as he asked, sniffling a bit. He raised his hand and wiped his nose with his sleeve, starting to giggle a bit. Daddy opened his mouth to say something when Michael noticed the cockroach twitch. He screamed again when it started to run.
Daddy jumped and swooped down to grab the newspaper, chasing the little menace across the kitchen until he caught it in a corner. Trapped, the kitchen was filled with the steady *smack smack smack* of the newspaper against the tile. Daddy hit it over and over until the thing was flat, its guts spilled across the ground. With that, Daddy straightened up and started to laugh, picking it up with the end of the paper and tossing it in the bin.
With the persistent little devil now gone, Daddy moved him to the lounge room and sat on the couch, setting him down on his lap. Michael laid his head against Daddy's chest, closing his eyes as Daddy brushed one hand through his hair, the other rubbing circles into his back once more.
"There we go," he whispered into his ear. "No more scary bugs. Daddy's here. That's it, no more tears, Sweetheart. There we go."
He said things along those lines over and over until Michael stopped crying, eventually calming down enough to breathe properly. Not long after, he started to hiccup.
Daddy chuckled, standing back up and getting the cup of water Michael was in there for. Handing it to him, he kept the cup steady as he took it all in one swig. After that, Daddy gently bounced him in his arms and pat his back until all of his hiccups were gone.
"Are you ready for bed, now?" he asked, yawning. Michael nodded, yawning as well. "Do you want to sleep with me and Mummy?" Michael shook his head. "Alright. Come on; let's get you to bed."
"Alright, this place is just disgusting," Henry grunted. Now that they were inside, Michael was remembering why he always hated doing maintenance on Chica.
Michael looked around, screwing his nose up in disgust. At the back, he could make out the freezer, pantry, and large fridge, but he didn't dare go near them again. Instead, he added to their list:
Replace broken equipment. Restock everything in the pantry, freezer, and fridge. – KITCHEN, was added to the 'To Add' section.
Foodstuffs and drinks. Have to figure out what sort of things we'll be selling first. – KITCHEN, was added to the 'Keep in Stock' section.
Henry looked over his shoulder and hummed in agreement with his last comment. "We should send out a questionnaire to figure out what the locals are interested in."
Michael nodded. "That's also a good marketing strategy. By asking around, that makes it seem like we care about what they think. They'll want to investigate if they feel like their needs are being met."
His uncle looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't know anything about business."
He sighed. "All I know is what I was forced to."
Henry didn't respond, so they kept moving, exploring the rest of the building. Outside the kitchen was a wide, empty display shelf with a cash register sitting next to it, along with the old menu. Michael picked one up and read it, screwing his nose up at the options (or lack thereof).
PIZZA
Pepperoni Pizza
Cheese Pizza
DRINKS
Sodas
Milkshakes (VANILLA ONLY)
Water
Well, that was just sad. Judging by the look on Henry's face, he agreed.
New menu, table tops, speakers, stage lights, and curtains. – MAIN ROOM, was put in 'To Add'.
"All we have left is the Arcade, Prize Corner, three Private Party Rooms, Main Office, Bathrooms, and Backstage," Henry said, making a slow beeline for the back of the main room where the arcade and prize corner sat in their own, large room.
It was rather sad-looking. Some of the games either had flickering screens, missing buttons, or broken joysticks, but some weren't capable of turning on at all.
The prize corner was an even sadder sight. The counter and shelves were dusty, the plastic toys were sticky, the plush toys begging for repair, and the figurines of old characters knocked over or broken. Some of the old clothes, masks, and other memorabilia were damaged. It was like everything had been neglected on purpose.
"At least some of this can be donated," he muttered to himself, picking up an old Foxy plush toy that reminded him so much of the one he had destroyed to torment Evan. That toy used to be his before he gave it to his little brother. Sighing, he made to put it back down, but Geh Ge finally vocalised his disgust in doing so.
He looked down, smiling a bit. "What? Do you want him? He's pretty old," he said, looking the toy over. He wasn't as damaged as Fredbear, but he certainly needed a good clean.
Geh Ge nodded, staring right at Michael. He stared back, fully aware that he was losing this contest. After a few seconds, he sighed and brushed Foxy off as best as he could. "Fine, we can keep him," he muttered, turning to shove him in Geh Ge's bag. "But you're not going to touch him until I've cleaned him off."
Geh Ge glared at him, whining in protest as Foxy disappeared, but Michael didn't give in. Realising this, Geh Ge just huffed and let his head hit Michael's collarbone, giving him the cold shoulder when he tried to coax him out of his mood.
He shook his head, chuckling. "Alright; have it your way."
As he made some notes on the room, he noticed something in particular: there were no drawings on the walls.
He was so used to seeing nearly every wall in every location being plastered with so many drawings that you couldn't even see the wall itself, that he hadn't noticed that this entire place had… none. Not even one. He thought about telling Henry, but then thought better of it. He wouldn't care.
Eventually they left (or more like Henry left and expected Michael to follow), and made it to the only other hall in the building. As they passed, Michael read the sign.
Backstage (STAFF ONLY)
Main Office (STAFF ONLY)
Private Party Rooms 1-3
Bathrooms
A very odd line-up, but then again, Fazbear Entertainment had never really had floor plans that made sense.
The other rooms were in much the same state as the rest of the building. Much to his dismay, the party room tables were covered in the exact same old, mouldy, table mats, and their floors were just as disgusting as the main room. The bathrooms were the same in terms of grime, but the backstage area was a refreshing change of pace since it was just dusty and covered in cobwebs. Some of the lights didn't work, however, and most of the electrical equipment would need to be replaced.
Out of everything, the main office was the cleanest place in the building. There was an ancient-looking computer sitting on the desk with a cracked screen, next to a just-as ancient-looking phone that had some exposed wires. An ancient-looking printer was sitting in the back of the office behind an ancient-looking desk, and a dinky-looking wheelie chair that looked like it would fall apart the second he sat on it was positioned under it. There were balled-up papers and pencil shavings on the floor, and some cobwebs tucked into the corners of the office and attached to an old filing cabinet. The ceiling fan was covered in so much dust that they would be fools if they turned it on. Despite all of that, however, it was fine.
Henry immediately made for the old computer while Michael took the last of his notes.
To Add:
Replace/redecorate rooms. – PRIVATE PARTY ROOMS
Waste disposal bins, new toilet paper holders and soap dispensers. – BATHROOMS
Replace phone and broken monitor. – MAIN OFFICE
New lights and electrical equipment, new curtains, new… everything. – BACKSTAGE
Keep in Stock:
Toilet paper, soap, and paper towels. – BATHROOMS
Files, forms, pens, sticky tape, printing paper, printer ink, batteries. Maybe more in future. – MAIN OFFICE
Spare lights, curtain rings, speakers. – BACKSTAGE
"I think you need glasses, Michael," Henry said as soon as he lowered the notebook.
Michael looked at him, bewildered. "What? No I don't!"
Henry smirked. "You're squinting when you're reading, and you're leaning in far too much just to write. Better get that checked out."
Grumbling in annoyance, he put the book away and made his way towards his uncle so he could look at the screen.
It was an old, late-nineties model that had somehow survived for three decades. How it ended up here was a mystery, and what was an even bigger mystery was the fact that it could still turn on. It was slower than the slowest snail, but he didn't mind since it was still alive. He could forgive it for that. The screen was barely visible as he tried to find out where Henry was going. How he was able to see anything at all was beyond him.
All of a sudden, an old version of Microsoft Word popped up with The Company's questionnaire template at the ready. Well, that explained the old posters and menus.
Job seemingly done, Henry stood up and gave Michael the seat. "Here you go. Fill it out. You should only need to print ten."
Before he could ask what he meant, Henry busied himself by turning on the printer and getting it ready. Michael turned back to the screen, leaning closer in order to get a better look at what he was doing. Finally finding his curser, he bit his lip, mulling over what to type.
Right, now he remembered; changing the menu.
He started by changing any of the words that seemed patronising or antagonistic, but from there he hit a roadblock. Closing his eyes, he just typed out the first introduction he thought of.
As some of you may or may not know, the local 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place' is under new management, and as a result, we're looking to change our menu to suit everyone's needs and interests. This includes adding allergy-friendly foodstuffs, along with vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free options to our menu. If it's not much trouble we would appreciate it if you could fill out this short questionnaire and send it back to our location at–
That was decent enough; no need to make it flashy or long.
Q1 – Do you – or anyone you know in your neighbourhood – have allergies?
Q2 – Are you interested in seeing new options on our menu? If so, what would you want to see?
Q3 – What alternatives would you be interested in seeing if you are: lactose intolerant, gluten intolerant, or have a food allergy?
Q4 – Are you happy with our current menu?
Q5 – What do you never order?
After a few minutes of thinking, he couldn't come up with anything else. "Henry?" he called, looking over his shoulder.
His uncle just shrugged, that same smirk still on his face. "Simple enough. Don't want to overwhelm them."
Michael sighed, turning back to re-read what he'd written. He added a pleasant 'Thank you!' message, then connected the computer to the printer. It took a few minutes for the printer to whirl to life, and once it did, the office was filled with an awful grinding noise.
Geh Ge burst into tears at the sound, covering his ears. Henry cursed under his breath and did the same, jumping up to get away from the offensive sound. Michael winced and (after quickly inputting what he wanted) pressed print, rushing out of the office just as it started to shriek.
"Is it supposed to do that?" he shouted over the noise, hissing as he shut the door.
Henry nodded, rubbing the side of his head. "Yes, unfortunately. Have you never been in the office when William printed things off? I'm surprised he never went deaf."
Michael shook his head as he put his attention on his crying babe. "I'm sorry, Gregory. That wasn't very nice, was it?" he mumbled, gently rubbing his head. Geh Ge just continued to cry, rubbing at his eyes now. He sighed, leaning against the wall.
"It will take a while for it to finish printing off. Maybe twenty minutes."
"Twenty?!"
Henry shrugged, huffing as he leaned against the wall as well. "That's how old things are – we take too long," he joked, smile quickly falling once he realised who he was talking to. "Can't tell if we'll get any response when we send them out, though."
"At least we tried?" he said, unsure. The printer continued to shriek. "I know I'm not putting up with that thing for more than today. That's the first thing that's going. That, or I invest in some ear muffs for Gregory and I."
For some reason, Henry found that amusing. In fact, he had been acting off ever since he'd given Michael his notebook back. He let his eyes travel down, landing on his uncle's pocket. What had he written down?
He would not deny the fear that churned within him when he thought about it. He had thought that telling him a bit about the… 'exercising' process would give him some peace, but it seemed to have… awakened something. The fact that he only became erratic when he mentioned Charlie worried him. Charlie had already been through enough – he didn't want her to go through more. He would like to say that Henry wouldn't hurt her, but it had been so long that he wasn't sure just what type of headspace his uncle was in right now.
He shouldn't have said anything.
-o0o-
The two of them were left with nothing but the screams of the printer and each other's company before Geh Ge started to cry again. It took him a second to figure out what had him so distressed before he came to the conclusion that he was hungry. So, Michael grabbed his food and had to squat down to feed him, balancing on his ankles. Both his ankles and his knees didn't take kindly to the strain.
"I wish I could still do that," Henry said suddenly, leaning on his cane.
Michael looked up at him. "What? Squat?"
Henry nodded. "My knees would hate me for it if I tried."
He hummed, the conversation dying there. Michael could tell he wanted to keep this going, however. "Umm… thanks for giving me this sling. It's been a big help," he mumbled, gently thumping Geh Ge's back when he started to gurgle.
"That's good."
Silence fell between them once again. Michael sighed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing."
He groaned, letting the back of his head hit the wall so he could stare at the ceiling. Why did he even bother trying? "Does this have something to do with–"
Before he could finish his question, Geh Ge burped just as the printer stopped screaming. Michael pulled the bottle away and pat his bub's back until he stopped burping, watching Henry the entire time.
Henry untangled his arms and stood up straight, grabbing his cane once more, eyes glazing over slightly. "The printer's finished. We should get going," Henry said instead.
"Oh, right. So you think you can suddenly handle being in the car again?" he couldn't help but snap, his irritation and paranoia about this morning getting to him. He shouldn't have said anything!
Without waiting for a reply, he got up and threw the door to the office open and snatched the papers up, looking them over. They printed out well despite the printer's age, which was perhaps the only plus to come out of the day. He sighed, setting them on the desk and checking the rest of the computer. There wasn't much there aside from the file filled with more templates for different scenarios and old tax receipts from two years ago.
He saved the document and put it away in a new file (noting that nothing there was arranged the way he would like), then switched the computer off. The printer cried itself to sleep, making him sigh. This office may be bearable, but he wouldn't be able to work there comfortably.
Picking the papers up again, he folded each one before he retrieved an empty file from the filing cabinet and slipped them inside. He left the office, shutting the door behind him. Henry was still right where he left him.
He didn't give him the time of day as he walked past him and towards the back entrance. If Henry wanted to come with him that was his choice, but Michael certainly wasn't going to invite him.
As he made his way to the car, he noted how far the workers had come. The footpath had been repaired, and they were currently in the process of preparing the sign for repairs.
He unlocked the car and put his things inside, plopping himself in the driver's seat. Without a care in the world, he tossed the file at his feet and curled up in his seat, continuing to feed Geh Ge.
It was only when Geh Ge was done that Henry finally invited himself in and sat beside him. Michael put the bottle away, not acknowledging him at all, even when he started the car.
It was like working with a metronome – one second, everything's hunky-dory – the next they were either at each other's throats, or giving the other an ice-cold shoulder. He just couldn't deal with this; how was he supposed to work like this? He just… he just couldn't.
His eyes stung as he stopped by a house, pulling out one of the questionnaires and slipping it into their mailbox before they noticed anything. He didn't want to be doing this either – he hated drawing attention to himself and yet here he was, practically jumping up and down to get it.
All he could do was just focus on what this– this plan meant: freedom; for all of them.
And damnation for one.
-o0o-
Their little tour would have been more pleasant if he had been able to walk rather than drive, but it was too late to complain. Besides, when all of this was over, he would get to walk as much as he liked for as long as he wanted.
(At least that's what he told himself.)
There wasn't much there of course, but it was interesting. The place almost seemed to act like a border. One side of the little… village(?) led into the green-brown land back home, and the other led into the red and orange desert to Hurricane. Staring out into that void for too long made his heart ache, which was odd, because he didn't think he was homesick.
As he slipped the last letter into the last mailbox, he pulled out his phone and wondered whether he should call Jeremy or not. On one hand, if he did, he'd have to explain everything, which was hard over the phone. If he didn't Jeremy wouldn't stress himself silly and would be none the wiser.
He pursed his lips, conflicted, before putting it away and returning to the car. Henry would be getting impatient.
-o0o-
The drive was piercingly quiet aside from the occasional giggle or grumble from Geh Ge, who was lying on his back and staring at Michael from his lap. When there was nothing but the red desert around, he took the chance to glance down and smile at him, making him laugh.
Aside from that, there was nothing.
His hands began to shake as they passed Hurricane's 'Welcome!' sign, quickly turning off so they didn't actually enter the town itself.
"Michael, what are you doing? We're going the wrong way!" Henry snapped just as quickly, glaring at him.
Michael met it with just as much ferocity. "Oh, yeah, and let the four of them know we're here? It's a purple Thunderbird – most of them are going to know who it belongs to," he pointed out, turning off the street they were on. "Did you even think about that? I don't know about you, but I would prefer to actually make that restaurant secure before we go through with whatever your stupid plan entails, alright? I don't want anyone else to die right now!"
Henry leaned back into his seat and stared out of the window, brows furrowed and frown firm. What? So he hadn't thought about that?
It took Michael ten minutes of driving through the backstreets before he found the section of town that was solely dedicated to every large business' warehouses. They passed some trucks loading supplies into the back and some police cars arresting (what he assumed to be) failed thieves, before he turned into the small parking space in front of the huge, metal building.
"We're here," he muttered, getting out of the car to grab his things. Henry followed suit, walking right up to the main entrance as though the place wasn't filled with danger.
The old, weather-worn sign attached to the building's roof reflected the sun poorly, blinding him when he looked up. Its walls were stained with all sorts of muck gathered from nearly fifty years of existence, and thirty years of neglect. There were no windows, no back doors – only the front door and the large, thick, shutter beside it.
"Are you coming?" Henry asked, looking at him impatiently.
Michael scowled at him and stepped forward, stopping in front of the keypad next to the door. Opening it up, he typed in the code and waited. A quiet *beep* was the only indicator that it had worked. Pushing into the door, it slid open slowly, the rollers it was attached to filled with enough muck to make it get stuck halfway. With a forceful shove, the dried… mud(?) flew out and let the door slide open the rest of the way.
"There."
Henry walked inside without an ounce of hesitation, causing the building's sensors to go off. The two closed their eyes as the lights stuttered to life, filling the place with light blinding enough to rival the sun. Michael peaked his head through the door, but froze up at the sight of what was on the other end.
On the other end of the building was a broken elevator, its doors dented in from where metal claws had forced them open. Scrape marks lined the concrete floor, leading directly to where he stood. His breath caught in his throat as his heart pounded in his ears.
"Michael, hurry up! Don't want to 'let the four of them know we're here', do we?" he asked mockingly, turning to glare at him. Michael didn't move, because he wasn't listening to anything coming out of his mouth. He couldn't look away from the elevator.
"We needed you! Why did you leave us? I thought you liked me," Lizzie– Ennard cried, pushing against the vent door. It wasn't her. It had her voice. That was all. It wasn't her itwasn'theritwasn'theritwasn'ther–
"Isn't this why you came here? To be with me again?" she– they asked softly, voice growing faint as they left the vent. He blinked and looked down at the camera, jumping up from his seat to open the vent when he was sure they were gone. He heard footsteps and swivelled his head around, freezing in terror when he saw their blue eyes staring at him through the door.
"I know it was an accident!" They stepped forward, entering the office.
"Michael… Michael, come here! I'm not going to hurt you," they cried, reaching out for him.
He shouted and slapped their metal arm away, hand burning with the pain as he ran past them. Just before he did, he locked them inside the office and turned the flash beacon on, yelping when Ballora grabbed onto his arm and began to drag him to safety while Ennard screamed in rage.
"Michael, stop! You're going to hurt yourself. Stop, STOP!"
His face suddenly stung and he recoiled in shock, wrapping his arms protectively over Geh Ge as he pressed himself against the wall, refusing to move even when the cruel hands grabbed onto his wrists and tried to pull them away. He wrestled with them, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" he screamed, shoving the stranger off and holding his bub closer. Geh Ge was crying, holding onto him and wailing in his ear, but at least that meant that he was safe.
He slowly raised a hand to his face, tentatively touching his right cheek. It burned to touch. He glanced up, and then hid his head, curling in on himself when he met his uncle's eyes. "Don't hit me," he whimpered, raising his hand to grip his hair and tug on it tightly until he was nearly ripping it out. "Please, don't hurt me."
All he could hear was the hum of the lights, Geh Ge's cries, and his own breathing, and it was too much. His head was killing him, and it was so hard to breathe. "You… don't hit… when we… we're like this. Only… only restrain if… a danger. Never… never hit. Make… make it worse," he whispered, the lack of air making him dizzy. "Please… leave… alone."
Henry's footsteps faded away.
-o0o-
Something cool and soft brushed against his sore cheek, slowly rousing him from his exhausted nap. He blinked a few times, his vision clouded with an odd, wispy, silver mist in front of him. He could see a pair of bright blue eyes amidst it that were filled with sadness, but he couldn't see much else. Those eyes looked so familiar… they made him think of… Fredbear?
He let his eyes fall shut as the hand (because that had to be what that was, right?) brushed against his cheek again, easing the intense stinging.
"I'm sorry, Mikey. I wish I could help you," a little boy's voice whispered in his ear.
"Who are you?" he asked, opening his eyes again, a little more aware of his surroundings. But there was no one there. It must have just been another illusion conjured up by his stupid brain.
He contemplated falling back asleep, but he forced himself to stand up. His legs shook horribly as he moved around, purposefully keeping his gaze away from the elevator.
The walls were lined with arcade games, spare speakers and lights, odd decorations like an old, novelty traffic light and a disco-like, pizza-shaped light, creepy gambling machines with weird faces, some circular drink dispensers designed to look like clowns, and a barrel with limp balloons hanging from its top of all things. Everything had a sign attached to it with their names in bold writing, and all of it ranged from weird to wonderful, most of it looking like abandoned works. There were four ball pits of varying different sizes and quality, some old, wooden stages with faded white paint along their bases, and a singular fan sitting in the corner.
There were also countless shelves packed with metal boxes, each labelled and arranged alphabetically.
He looked at what he had been leaning against, and realised it wasn't a wall at all, but instead a shipping container. Another sat beside it. The one he had been leaning against had a sign attached to its front: ANIMATRONICS. He swallowed, looking at the other container, which was labelled: ANIMATRONIC PARTS.
He turned his head and stared at what was near the elevator, amazed. He didn't remember ever seeing a ride like that before, and yet here it was. Sitting next to the old merry-go-round from eighty-seven's location, was a humongous ride called 'Gravity Vortex'. Next to it sat a small set of rocket rides and a stand of normal carnival basketball hoops.
It was so… odd. The only thing that was familiar to him was the carnival hoops, the gumball machine, some of the arcade machines, and the merry-go-round.
Curious, he turned around and approached one of the shelves, taking interest in a box labelled: CLASSIC DECORATIONS. He opened it up and smiled. The set of 'Paper Pals' made so long ago had been preserved, along with old drawings, masks, and posters. It was… cute, to see the old magic of Freddy's preserved in such a manner.
He put the box away and wandered over to the arcade machines, ignoring the creepy, round, child-looking thing that towered in the corner. According to the sign attached to it, it was called 'Egg Baby'.
He only recognised two of the arcade games: 'Midnight Motorist', and 'Fruity Maze'. Curious, he bent down and turned Midnight Motorist on, amazed to find that it still worked. He couldn't help but grin when he saw that it had kept everyone's high scores, including his own. He was even happier to find that no one had managed to beat him yet.
"I thought they would have erased everything by now," he whispered to himself. Geh Ge looked up at him, bright-eyed. His smile wavered. He turned the machine off and sat down on the ground, apologising to his bub.
"I'm sorry for earlier. I must have scared you." He sighed, kissing the top of his head. "I wish I wasn't sick; I don't want to frighten you." He closed his eyes, listening to Geh Ge's soft breathing. It helped him relax a little, but it didn't get rid of the sickening guilt that had settled in his stomach. He didn't want Geh Ge to grow up in fear of him.
The silence between them was interrupted by the squeal of the elevator's broken doors opening.
Gasping, he jumped up and balled his hands into fists. Throwing hands with an animatronic wasn't smart, but Ennard was fast and–
"Henry?" he yelped, staring at him in horror as he stepped out of the elevator as calmly as anything. "What the HELL were you doing down there?!"
Henry didn't answer right away. Instead, he rolled up what he recognised as blueprints, and put them away into his bag. "You wouldn't be able to go down there, so went by myself."
Michael swallowed. "But there– there were bodies down there. And who knows what was still there. What if they were still bloodthirsty?"
Henry frowned. "If there were bodies, they're long gone now. And no, there was nothing down there but broken shells and pieces of wire."
He couldn't believe it. He just… Henry just walked down there? How was the elevator still working? "How did you get through the vents?"
Henry had the audacity to look confused. "The vents were ripped open. It was easy to walk through them, although I had to be careful not to cut my legs. By the looks of it, Ennard was furious with you."
Michael swallowed, feeling faint. "I… I'm going," he whispered, turning around and making a beeline for the door without waiting for an answer. Henry called out to him, but he didn't want to hear it. He just wanted to go home and… and chase his thoughts away. He couldn't do this anymore – not today. Too much had happened.
Not long after he got into the car, Henry followed after him reluctantly, locking the warehouse door before he joined him. When he finally stepped in and buckled his seatbelt, Michael was gone, his heart refusing to rest until they were back on the highway.
"Why did you go down there?" he asked, again.
"I found all of our blueprints from the old days." Henry made a point of not looking at him. "I know how to free them in a different way, now. You had the right idea; they need to be burned. Melted down. Then their bodies will be too damaged to hold onto anymore and they will be forced to move on."
Michael didn't like the sound of that. They needed to be given something so they could leave peacefully. It would be cruel to do otherwise. But he didn't say anything. If he was going to be the bait, then he would find a way to free them by himself. He wouldn't be able to rest if he made them suffer.
Henry was quiet after that, but Michael could tell he wanted to say something. Keeping his eyes glued to the highway, he asked: "What's wrong?"
"You were scary back there. I thought you were going to hurt me." Michael winced, tightening his grip on the wheel. "What was that?"
"Looking at the elevator triggered bad memories. That's all you need to know," he said flatly, refusing to elaborate. It was none of his business. Besides, he had proven that he didn't care before, so why would he care now?
The rest of the drive was silent.
-o0o-
They didn't end up stopping by the restaurant. Instead, they went straight home, with Michael dropping him off at his house. The two of them were too exhausted from the emotionally taxing day to continue working. No goodbyes were exchanged, as Michael drove away as soon as he was inside his rickety home.
Gripping his cane tightly, Henry walked through the halls and into his bathroom to have a shower. Down there… the bloody trail that had permanently stained the steel vents and the large bloody handprints imprinted on the vent doors and keypads were burned into his brain. He would be lying to say it hadn't affected him.
He'd found Parts and Service, but he wished he hadn't. The place was lined with the shells of broken animatronics and stuffed with cruel, monstrous blueprints. When he found the one about The Scooper, he ran to the room and nearly threw up.
The Scooper's scalpel-sharp end was stained with Michael's blood, trails of it on the floor and droplets hitting the ceiling. The thick glass behind it had been shattered in (what he assumed to be) Ennard's rage, and the destruction caused by his escape only emphasised how dangerous they were.
He couldn't understand it. Surely William would have known how dangerous they were; why risk Michael's life? He knew… he knew William still held all of his children close to his heart, but it seemed like his cruelty knew no bounds. Would it hurt to know he'd nearly killed one of his children? Knowing the selfish bastard, probably not. He had only ever cared about himself, and had stomped happily on the hearts of anyone that got in his way – including Henry's own.
He turned the shower off and shakily stepped out to dry himself off. He's been telling himself that Michael was just sensitive. Henry had suffered, but he didn't cower in the corner and cry. He had told himself that Michael wasn't really sick; just overdramatic.
Seeing the wild, terrified look in his eyes that afternoon had changed his mind entirely.
Watching Michael – not William, Michael – suddenly freeze and wave his arms around wildly, muttering nonsensical things to himself as he began to run around in circles… crying and yelling… grabbing at his hair and touching things that weren't there – hearing him beg for the forgiveness of people that weren't around anymore – it was horrifying. The wide, wild, and glazed look in his eyes when Henry grabbed him was burned into his mind. The way he recoiled, screamed, and ran from him, crying out for his mother's protection before curling up against the shipping crate and hiding himself from Henry like he was a monster, made his hands shake as he changed into his pyjamas.
He had slapped Michael. It was the only thing he could think of doing. He was hurting himself and putting Gregory in danger with his jerky movements, and it worked – but seemed to have broken something within him.
Then, when he returned from the elevator, Michael was completely normal. He was still just as paranoid, jumpy, and scared, but there was no trace of the wild look in his eyes anymore. Instead, he talked with the same bitter voice, foul look, and snappy words. He moved around without his permission, making the decisions for the two of them.
Everything he thought he knew was being thrown on its head and…
…He didn't know what to think about it, so he opted to go to bed instead and deal with the problem in the morning.
-o0o-
The steel table he sat at had blueprints splayed out for all to see. He was holding a pencil in his hands, the sketch of L.E.F.T.E laid before him. The light above him flickered and he looked up. Circus Baby and Fredbear sat together against the wall opposite to him, slumped over with their heads tilted to the side. Their eyes were impossible to see.
Circus Baby's front was covered in blood, her stomach hatch opened just wide enough for a girl's small, pale arm to stick through, bent in all the wrong directions with blood running down her small fingers and creating little droplets on the floor.
From Fredbear's maw, a boy's body hung, head hidden inside. Blood had mattered his fur and seeped out from the seams of his neck and stomach. The boy's black and white striped shirt was stained, the white strips turning red. His legs and arms dangled lifelessly. Neither even twitched.
He looked back down at the table, L.E.F.T.E's blueprint now replaced with the blueprint of Ballora. His hands still clutched the pencil, but they were now covered in blood.
Beside Ballora, a woman's body lay. Unfazed, he pushed the blueprint aside. Circus Baby's blueprint replaced it, a little girl's body bent awkwardly inside her stomach. He pushed it aside. Fredbear's blueprint appeared, a little boy's body hanging from his jaw. He pushed it aside.
The Security Puppet's blueprint appeared, a little girl's body lying beside it as it held her close. He pushed it aside.
The original four's blueprints appeared instead. Inside each one, the body of a child – one girl and three boys – sat inside their stomachs. He pushed them aside.
Again, Fredbear appeared, a body now hiding inside his stomach. He pushed it aside. The blueprints were started to fall off the desk.
The Toy Animatronics' blueprints appeared, and a body lay inside each one. He shoved them aside angrily.
The blueprint for Spring Bonnie appeared, a man's body hiding inside, staring right at him. He went to push it aside when there was a series of rapid knocks behind him.
He jumped and swung around on his metal seat, seeing a heavy, steel door there. A window had been embedded into it, but instead of showing the rest of the Diner like it should have been, it led to the outside. The world outside flashed as a boom of thunder echoed through the quiet room. The pounding rain soon fell afterwards, hitting the roof like bullets.
He went to turn back to his table when he heard it.
"Da…aa…dyyy…"
He whirled back around, eyes wide. He couldn't see anything but the shadow of a girl and a bright-green bracelet around her wrist. She raised her fists and pounded on the door again.
"Daaa…dyyy. Op….eeeen the… dooo…r."
He tried to stand up – tried to move – but he couldn't.
"Daaady, pleeeasse… opeeen the… door," she begged, voice barely audible over the storm. "I thooought… you… loved me… Where were… you, Daddy?"
He tried to speak, but he couldn't. All he could do was stare.
She pounded her fists against the door harder, voice turning desperate and angry. "Wheeeere… WHERE WERE YOU?!" she suddenly screamed. "I NEEDED YOU! WHY DID YOU ABANDON ME, DADDY? I THOUGHT… I thought you loved me. You didn't… you left me to die…"
"N-no! No, I love you Charlotte!" he choked out. He struggled to move, but all he could do was move his hands.
"You killed us. You betrayed us. Baby should have been finished. If she was, Lizzie would still be here. If you kept the springlocks wound up… Evan would still be here. If you were there for me, I would still be here." She turned her head away from him. "But work was more important than me, wasn't it?"
"No… no it wasn't! I'm sorry, Charlotte!" Tears started to run down his face. God dammit why couldn't he move? "I love you! I… I didn't mean to. It was an accident!"
Charlie's head snapped in his direction. "What about the others? You could have stopped him, but you didn't! They died because you were a coward!" she shouted, slamming her fist against the door. "Forty years! For forty years I've suffered. Where were you when I needed you?" she asked again, breaking down into tears. "You left me to die… You nearly made me kill Mikey… I would have gone mad if I killed him… Why did you do that to me, Daddy? Do you hate me?"
He managed to finally turn around. "No, no Sweetheart! Of course I don't."
Suddenly, the sound of a car door being slammed shut boomed throughout the room, louder than any thunder. His eyes grew wide as he pushed his bloody hands against the desk, trying to stand. "Charlie! Charlie, run!"
She stared at him before turning her head towards the tall man that appeared behind her. Much like her, he was nothing but a shadowy figure. The only thing he could see were two grey pinpricks where his eyes would be.
"Hey, Uncle Will!" she suddenly chirped, turning around to hug him. "I can't get inside. The other kids locked me out."
"That's not very nice," the man said slowly, voice slurred as he swayed where he stood. He reached down and pat her head. "I'll be sure to give them a stern talking to when we get inside. Here, I know a way in through the back. Follow me," he ordered, holding out his hand.
"No, Charlie! Don't listen to him!" he shouted. He was able to lift his legs.
Charlie looked at him as she took his hand. "Help me, Daddy. He's going to hurt me… He's going to kill me, Daddy. Help… me," she whispered, voice dying down as William led her away from the door.
"CHARLIE!" he screamed.
There was a swift, deafening snap, and the sound of trash bags being moved. Not long after, the screech of a car driving off sounded, and as soon as it stopped, he could move his legs.
He bolted from the room, stumbling out into the dark night. There was nothing but the Diner and the road. He ran out to the alley, searching franticly until he found her. "CHARLIE!"
He shoved aside the garbage bags to pick her up. Her head hung at an unnatural angle, neck bones poking out from under her skin. But her eyes were still open, and she was very much alive.
"Why didn't you save me, Daddy? Why weren't you there?"
TO BE CONTINUED…