So sorry for the long delay with an update! I needed to take a break from writing after I finished Monochromatic Insomnia, and then I completely forgot about this story until I was going through my shelf and found papers of some early planning from several years ago (yesh!). Anyways, I hope the wait was worth it since I have a few more chapters in the making, with some terrifying events awaiting Michael. ;)

Enjoy!

Mike never considered himself to be a stupid or daft person. At least, he didn't think he was anyways.

No, but he was sometimes very impatient.

When Evan had spoken his name, Michael felt a wave of urgency. The time to wait when he came of age was beyond him. He needed to investigate further, and if there were dead ends at home, then Mike had to take a trip to a place where the dead ends could not exist.

Fredbear's might have been closed down, but there were more locations. Newer locations.

Sister locations.

Mike had only used the public bus system himself once, but watching all those people gave him some sort of understanding. That was a few months right after Elizabeth was born.

There was no surprise the line to the public transport was long and crowded. All sorts of people were trying to hide away from the head of the sun beneath the stop's shade. People with dogs, people in business suits, people reading books, people with black cases containing instruments held tightly in their laps. There was also a small group of joggers, chatting about and ready to complete their daily quota. Mike kept away from the people, pressing the side of his arm against the face of a cartoon drawn Mexican taco shop advertisement.

He wondered how long the bus would take to arrive the longer he waited. Every movement the sun seemed to get warmer, flaring up the heat against the plasticing protecting that advertisement. Michael drew his arm away, rubbing the skin. He half expected there to be blotches of red spotting from his wrist to his elbow. There wasn't time to look anyways as a glint of reflective glass blared at his eyes. A machine rumbled like a beast. Its rumbling subsided when the bus came to a stop.

Rubbing his eyes, Mike blinked. The sound of eager footsteps filled the void, the bus's gentle baritone finishing the choir. He urged himself to follow in pursuit, crowding between a pregnant lady and some women that was shorter than him, but also shared enough similar features that he had a few glimpses of hope that it would confuse the bus driver. He listened to the creaking, each added weight pressed onto the steps leading into the beast's stomach.

Cool air tickled his forehead once the bus's air conditioning touched him. He kept himself as close to the door frame as he could. If the driver asked for payment, it wasn't like he was paying much attention. Easily, Mike slipped into the first row of seats, slumping down to hide away from the driver's line of sight. The lady who was behind him flashed him an odd look before sitting right next to him. Trapping Mike against the window.

The lady had the same brown hair and blue eyes he did. That was where most of the similarities ended, but people could still confuse the two as relatives. Perhaps mother and son. Mike tried to keep his mind away from playing that card.

Both Mike and the lady stayed in a tunnel of silence. He picked away at the skin of his fingers just as the lady took out a nail filer. Her nails were fake, the way they glistened with plastic paint and how too-long they hung off her fingers.

A gentle jolt and the transport began its journey. Mike kept his eyes focused on the outside world. An arm ready to latch up and pull on the string to alert the driver to stop.

He heard the small clicking of those plastic nails tapping together. Then the lady's voice, "Haven't seen you 'round here before."

She sounded Southern. To toy with her, Mike allowed his own accent to come out heavy and thick. "My mum told me not to talk to strangers."

"Are you from out of the country?"

A source of irritation welled up inside his chest. "I was born here."

"America?"

Michael gave her a very slight nod, keeping the back of his head facing her.

The bus passed Fredbear's abandoned corpse.

Freddie Mercury's voice cried out from the driver's radio with a solemn I don't wanna die, I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all. At the sound of the guitar riffs, Michael slumped further down into his seat. Damned lyrics fit his damned mood too wee, even if the song was an extensive rerun.

"Ever listen to Queen before?" the lady asked. It bothered him. Mike even glanced at her as she scanned him from his shoes to his messy hair. "You can't be more than fifteen."

"Thirteen."

She let out a rush of air through her nostrils. "Good riddance to you then, young man. Where are you heading? You ain't running away from home, now are you?"

Mike looked back through the window. "I'm trying to find somebody."

"Where are you coming from?"

"The hospital." He noticed the lady pause and go rigid, as if "hospital" meant "mental asylum runaway". Mike looked at the floor. "I was visiting my brother."

"Oh," she said plainly. The seat shifted with her movement. "Where's your mother?"

"Trusting her eldest son." The most familiar brown animalistic face painted cutely on the top of a large building made Mike jerk his arm up. Fingers grasping the thin string, he pulled it down. A few people several aisles behind him loudly protested, but they were blatantly ignored. He stood up and was thankful when the lady tucked her legs in as he passed. But then she grabbed his arm.

Mike wanted so badly to pull away, ready to give her a glare that mimicked his father, but he stopped in midthought when she tucked something in between his fingers. A sheet of paper?

The lady let him go, smiling. Quickly, heart pulsing in his ears, Mike looked at what she snuck him...

"American or wherever your accent originates from, you need money to get on and off buses."

Oh.

He folded the bill down the middle. A gentle crease. "Thanks." And walked straight up the aisle directly to the driver. Although the driver didn't care to look at him, a hand was outstretched, palm flat. Waiting for the reward of the tedious service. Mike placed the money and hopped down the steps of the bus, smelling the exhaust fumes. Coughing, Mike waved a hand over his nose and mouth.

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Grimacing, he walked down the sidewalk, the past white color now degraded with cracks, dirt scuffs and spots of ancient gum remains.

The pavement that consisted of the driveway and parking lot of this version of Freddy's had seen better days. This was the first time Mike actually considered how nice Fredbear's had been. One of the nicer places, Fredbear's acted more or less like the dinner it prided itself to be. The food was actually good, despite how long Michael used to gripe about it. The animatronics were at least moderately less creepy, with more realistic-looking fur and less exposed mechanical innards. And although just a duo with Fredbear and Spring Bonnie, the music wasn't even half bad.

Michael always felt like every one of his sensories was being harassed at Freddy's. And not in a good way. More like the bear himself maliciously mauled Mike inside and out.

Speaking of Freddy, Mike could see one of his robotic clones even though the outside tinted windows. Next to him and dancing just as stiffly was Chica, some weird mixture of a humanized chicken and machine, and a purple version of Spring Bonnie. But they just called this one Bonnie, according to the posters taped on the windows.

Mike sucked in a thin breath between his teeth. Truthfully, he'd rather not enter this place. While it was paradise to every oblivious child running around with exhilarated screams, it was a nightmare to Mike. A nightmare to his entire family.

He reminded himself that it was also Evan's nightmare.

Somehow that gave him the strength to push open the door into the establishment.

The loudest screech of a toddler made him want to dash back outside into the equally torturing heat. Pushing the temptation to wince down into his core, as well as the worry that his eardrums were possibly absolutely obliterated, he pressed onwards.

Immediately, Michael felt pity for every single soul that worked inside this rotten building.

Two tiny runts ran past him, faces covered in blood-red sauce. Mike shivered. The lanky young man lounging over the see-through price counter gave him a sympathetic look with tired, sunken eyes. He shared the look back.

The carpet was filthy. Supposedly it was understandable. A never-ending run of birthday parties with too many small children always making a mess of anything clean. Scattered pieces of trash littered the floor, and even the entertainingly black and white checkered floor wasn't spared from irrevocable stains.

He had no interest for any of the birthday girls or boys nor for the trashy band bolted upstage. His attentioned drifted very easily to the very obvious door labeled "Employees Only". It called to Mike. It reminded him of Cassidy's words.

Afton hid the children's bodies in plain sight. But he also hid them so plainly in sight that most people wouldn't notice. And he hid them away in the suits of the mascots. All this thinking started giving Mike the beginnings of a headache. It was a complicated thing, a complicated mystery, all filled with complicated mechanics of how the mind of a murderer functioned. How his own father functioned. He concluded his thoughts and made his way towards the door. Hopefully nobody noticed him as he parted it ever so slightly away from its frame. Hopefully nobody heard the high-pitched squeak it made hanging on its swinging hinges.

Before he could even breathe his next breath, Michael slipped into a forbidden land.

And came face to face with a golden rabbit.