NOTES
Alright, short explanation. What I'm considering the major 'segmants' of this story is every 10 chapters, where the 10th of every segment is one of those mega-chapters that has something important happen. I can't remember which chapter it was exactly, but around 10 chapters from this one I made a chapter simply titled "Micheal Afton", which was a chapter that focused entirely on Micheal himself.
If you look at the title of this chapter, you'll see that this chapter is similar. Every segment, around the later half, I think I'm gonna make a chapter like this for a different character every time.
The original Micheal Afton chapter was significantly shorter than the surrounding chapters, so this one is a bit smaller as well. This one is significantly longer than the original, though.
ummmmm...
OH. Right. Ok, so.
I made a mistake in the last chapter about the layout of the Pizzaplex. If you've played Security Breach, you'll know that you start in Rockstar Row, then go to the lobby, and from the lobby there's an elevator directly to the auditorium.
Somewhere in the last chapter, I said something along the lines of "You have to go through this corridor to reach either half of the Pizzaplex."
For some damn reason, I got confused, and thought that you started in the lobby, then went to Rockstar Row, THEN immediately made it to the auditorium.
What that means is I thought that you started in the lobby and HAD TO GO THROUGH ROCKSTAR ROW to reach the auditorium.
That's not true, not even remotely. Rockstar Row isn't even connected to the auditorium at all.
Sorry about that. Not a catastrophic mistake, but a dumb one. I thought I'd address it here.
Alright, that's all I can really say without the notes taking up too much of the chapter. I'm sure I'll have more to say next time around.
Enjoy!
Glamrock Chica
I haven't gotten my hand looked at yet, despite my promise too.
Honestly, it looks fine from my perspective, though I may not have the best frame of reference. It looks like I've mummified my hand at this point. It kinda looks cool, but maybe I've just been looking at it too much.
It's kind of hard to look away once you see it. So much so that I just about fell down the stairs I was climbing in the lobby.
Not sure if I ever mentioned this before, but it's my right hand. It might sound like important information, but I taught myself to be ambidextrous. Y'know, from all those horrific nights where I had to lightfooted and heroic to stave away the evil, using everything in my vicinity that I could get an advantage from.
Just kidding. I got bored after the pizzeria burned down, so I taught myself some pointless skills.
I do use my right hand more often, out of instinct I guess, but I have no trouble doing anything with my left hand.
I know I'm a corpse or whatever, but I should put SOME effort into letting my hand heal. Think I'll try using my left hand for everything. Like opening this door, for instance.
- shrrk -
Good job, me. Ten points for Gryffindor.
A few stragglers haven't made it out yet, it would seem. I guess I did arrive a bit early tonight. A couple of the day crew are scattered around the animatronic's corridor. Some of them are doing last touches to the place, and some of them are just sticking around for some friendly chat with those who are actually working.
One of them appears to be waving me down, actually.
"Micheal!" They yell across the room, making me flinch a bit. I'm not trying to stay hidden or anything, but I've never liked it when all the attention in a room shifts toward me, even if it was just for a moment.
I stroll over to the man(?) of the hour. I think. Their hair is extremely long, and their voice is on the higher side, but his build and mannerisms resemble those of a man.
"Hold this for a sec, please!" They continue before I'm able to give a greeting.
One of the LED strips on the wall seems to have 'slouched' a little bit. I think I gotta hold it in place while they do whatever it is they're gonna do to make it stay.
I do as I'm told, and the two of us make small talk as we work. Though they're the only one really talking. If I respond with anything longer than an acknowledging hum, I'm bound to get interrupted.
The light is.. 'taped' back into place. Scotch tape even, which does makes sense considering the tape needs to be transparent for the light to, y'know, do what light does.
Even after we finish, they haven't stopped talking. I'm listening to them, of course, but I kinda figured they'd get outta here once we finished.
I guess I don't mind, but I can see a few feathers in the corner of my vision.
Thankfully, the conversation doesn't last much longer, and the staff member abruptly jogs off to go put their supplies away. Allowing me to turn my attention to the Chicken.
Chica looks like she was politely waiting for the conversation to end, but she's clearly excited to share something. She's got a cheery smile on her face, and she's gently swaying to a rhythm in her head. Her eyes are also closed like she's in the middle of reliving something enjoyable, so I'm not entirely sure she's aware my interaction with the day crew has ended.
"Chic-"
"Hey Mike! Are you busy?"
Just as I get Chica's attention, I get beckoned by another crew member.
Peering around the animatronic, I recognize the offender as one of the daytime security guards. He's holding two boxes stacked on top of each other in his hands, with two more on the floor next to him. Truthfully, I felt the urge to say I 'was' busy, but I know this guy in particular is a good employee, and a hard worker. He probably deserves a little help this time around.
I internally sigh and trudge my way over, but I also beckon Chica to come with me. We can talk while I'm carrying the boxes to wherever they need to go; likely the main entrance.
Chica and I have been tagging behind the security guard by a few feet. Enough for her and I to talk about whatever she wants to talk about without engaging the security guard in the conversation as well.
That was the plan, anyway. Chica's been bouncing happily along with me, but she hasn't started talking yet.. We're most of the way through the lobby at this point.
Maybe I need to be the one to start the conversation.
"Are you alright?"
"Mhm!"
Welp, think I need to be a bit more direct.
"Did you want to talk about something?"
"Mhm!"
...
...
"You can start talking, then."
"Okay!"
This girl.. Pure of Heart, Dumb of Ass.
"A little kid said I looked weird today again!"
Mm.
"What happened next?'
"I didn't feel bad!" She bounces. "I remembered being weird was OK! Right?"
I can't help but smirk a little bit. It's nice to hear she's overcoming this insecurity of hers.
"Right. That's awesome, Chica."
She just giggles and continues to bounce along with me.
By the time the incredibly short conversation ends, we've already made it to where the security guard crew wanted his boxes.
I've started stacking my boxes, and others nearby, into organized piles, so they're ready to go once whatever's coming to pick them up arrives.
Chica's standing next to me, but curiously, she's stopped moving. I mean like, no more bouncing, no more swaying, just standing there.
Not considering it to be a big deal, I try to hurry organizing everything before she finds something else to talk about, which will inevitably require me to use all my brainpower.
...
"Mike?" Chica asks in a normal conversation volume, which raises some red flags.
"Mhm?" I respond, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.
"Whussat?"
At first, I think she's referring to my hand. I give the mummified hand a quick glance, then look up to the Chica to offer a response, only to discover she isn't looking my way at all. She's staring out the double doors, into the parking lot outside.
I follow her gaze and fail to spot anything out of place.
"...What's what?"
"The stuff up there! What is that?" Chica exhaustively explains, like she's pointing out the obvious. Her wing raises to try and point outside, but it seems like she herself is uncertain of what she's pointing at.
The only thing emptier than the parking lot is the sky above it, though it's not unthinkable that I'm still missing something in the darkness with the snow falling and obscuring the glass.
Oh.. Really?
"You mean the white stuff?"
"Yeah!"
"..The snow?"
"THAT'S snow?" She presses herself against the glass like a kid looking through the window of a toy shop.
"Yeah.. You've never seen-?"
I stop myself. That does make sense, actually. This place is less than a year old, and has a questionable lack of windows. I don't think this is the first time it's snowed this year, but it could very easily be the first time Chica's ever run into it.
"OOoooohmygodMike! Look!"
"I see it."
"Where's it coming from? It's falling so gently!"
"Mhm."
"Mike- Can I go play?"
Pretty sure I don't have that authority to make that call, but I'm also pretty sure it won't matter regardless of what my answer is. I guess we'll see in a moment.
"Make sure no one sees you."
"Yaaayy!" She flaps her wings rapidly before scooting back just enough to give the doors enough room to open.
The door in front of her flies open, and soon after the second set of doors leading to the outside does as well.
"Mike it's allllooooOOOWWWWW!"
I try not to laugh, but a snicker escapes as Chica flies back into the building, tripping and sliding back through the door on her stomach in the process.
She scrambles to an upright position, but stays sitting as she stares out the double doors she just entered through.
"How'd it go?" I ask with the kind of sarcasm I usually reserve for Roxy.
I walk myself over to where Chica now sits. She looks like she's about to cry, either from heartbreak or from skidding on the floor a good meter or two.
"The snow hurts! People never say snow hurts! That's not fair!" She complains at me, as if I have the ability to change anything.
"It doesn't hurt, it's just cold."
"Yeah, but-! But it's so cold it hurts!" She flaps her wings again, this time out of frustration.
"Mm, I guess so. Gonna get up?"
"No!"
"Alright.."
I stare down at her for a few more seconds. Giving up on having anything that will effectively calm her down enough to get her to move from the middle of the floor, I sit down next to her, staring out the window myself.
"...Snow's mean..." She grumbles into her arms, now sitting with her knees tucked to her chest, glaring at the snow outside.
"Snow's not mean, you just need to get used to it."
"Does snow hurt other people?"
"Not really. Not unless you're touching it for a long time."
"So it's only hurting me! That's mean!"
"Everyone else has gone through winter before, they're used to snow by now."
She just grumbles and tugs at her legs tighter.
...
After a while, I can see the strain leave her arms and legs, hopefully indicating she's calmed down a bit.
"..Does everyone else like snow?"
"Most people do. It's fun to mess around with, at the very least."
...
"So I'm weird.?"
"You're weird for other reasons."
"Oh. Is not liking snow weird?"
"A little, but not that much."
I thought she told me she was over feeling weird a little while ago..? Mm.. Maybe I shouldn'tve assumed it would disappear all at once.
"But being weird isn't bad, like you said earlier." I reassure, hoping to pull her out of whatever thought's she's rumbling with at the moment.
"I know, but.. Like.." Chica begins, thinking hard about something. I desperately wish I could read that mind of hers, it would at least give me a little more time to prepare an answer for her questions.
"Was eating, um.. Was what I was doing in the kitchen weird?"
I glance in her direction, a little taken off guard by her willingness to bring up something she's embarrassed about. She's still tucked with her arms around her legs, but she's looking a bit somber, with her head tucked a little further in and her eyes lowered to the floor a little ways in front of us.
"Yeah, a little. Why?"
"Was it also, um.. Bad?"
Oh, hmm.. I see what she's getting at now, and I'm not entirely sure what the right thing to say is.. For the time being, I guess I'll just have to reply honestly and hope it gets me somewhere. Come on, Chica chee. Where'd your bright and happy self go?
"It.. Was a little bad, yeah. But you stopped eating trash, right?"
"Yeah, yeah! I mean, like.. So is being weird bad or is it good?"
"It's... It depends. Some weird things are bad, but not all of them."
She recedes into herself a bit, tucking herself further into her arms.
"So how do I know which weird things are good and which weird things are bad?"
"..Mm.."
I fail to come up with an answer right away. I return my gaze to the outside world ahead of us, now a little more white than it was before.
"So.. So wouldn't it be best if I wasn't weird at all? So I know I'm not doing anything bad?"
I can't see her now that I'm looking ahead, but I hear her head shuffle with her feathers. I can tell she's looking in my direction now. She's expecting an answer this time, a meaningful one.. Man, I just work here..
...
I take some time to think, deciding a delayed answer would be better than a quick and unfulfilling one. I'm still not entirely sure of myself, but I take a deep breath, and tell her what I think.
"I think that's what we're for.."
I stop there, wanting to elaborate, but needing another moment to figure out how to word how I feel.
"..Who? Me and you?" She asks, reasonably confused about my unhelpful answer.
"Everyone 'except' you, I mean. Me, your friends, people you trust, stuff like that.. You don't need to worry about if what you're doing is wrong, because that's our job. If you do something bad, and you don't know if it's bad or not, we'll tell you."
I stretch my legs outward, using my arms to support my weight. An obvious example comes to mind.
"Like how you were eating stuff from the trash. Trudge and I have seen you do plenty of weird things, but we've never said anything about them until that time, right?"
Her eyes glaze over as she starts to think about it.
"Uhm.. I don't think so.."
"That's because none of the weird stuff you were doing was wrong. And the moment we saw you do a weird thing that WAS wrong, we told you immediately, right?"
"..Oh." She looks back out the door.
There we go, starting to click for her.
"...So if I'm being bad, you'll tell me?"
"Any one of your friends will tell you. You don't even have to ask."
"Oh.. That sounds easy..!"
"It is easy."
"So I don't need to stop being weird..!"
"Nope. Even if we didn't tell you," I shrug, meaning the next point to be a little more lighthearted. "Not all bad things are weird either. So even if you stopped doing anything weird, you could still be doing something bad."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"A bad thing doesn't have to be weird?"
"Some bad things are so common, that they don't even seem weird."
"Wow.. Do I do normal bad things?"
"I don't think so."
"Wow!"
Chica finally unfolds herself, stretching out and relaxing like I am.
"Oh, and the same goes for you too, Chica-Chee; If you see me doing something bad, you gotta tell me as well." I explain with a chuckle.
"Mhm!"
She happily kicks her feet a bit as she sits. Seems like she's as content as I am about how this situation turned out.
"Wait-! You don't do bad things!" She suddenly blurts, as if just registering what I told her.
"Mm, sometimes I do."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh. Did Freddy tell you about this?" I raise my bandaged hand up in front of her.
"Ooooh, no! What happened?"
"I did a bad thing, which led to me getting hurt."
"What did you do? Was Freddy 'supposed' to tell me about this?"
"He said he might. I was with him when it happened."
"Then I'll ask Freddy if you did a bad thing! He's gunna say no!" Chica declares, jumping up quickly, and just as quickly pulling me up from my spot as well.
"What-?"
"We're gonna go see Freddy!" She demands, clearly passionate about this debate.
"W-"
I can't get another word out before Chica is running full speed, tugging me along behind her.
Jeez, this girl is FAST.. If I trip up at all, she's gonna be dragging me across the pizzaplex.
...
Does she even know where Freddy is?