"Father, before we do anything toady, I want you to promise me something," Michael's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. He had yet to so much as turn the engine on, meaning they were still in the driveway. He looked to his father, who was sitting in the passenger seat. At first, Michael had worried that the decayed spring Bonnie suit would be too big to fit in the car, but they managed. Sure, it was a bit cramped, but for the time being, Springtrap had managed to squeeze in without the need to cut a hole in the roof.
"And what would that be?" Willaim Afton's voice was raspy and grating. Just the sound of it made Michael uncomfortable.
"I just want you to… not revert to any old habits," It was times like these that Michael wished he still had lips and eyebrows in order to convey some emotion. As is, he had to rely mostly on body language and tone of voice, neither of which were really his strong suit.
"What exactly are you implying?" his father asked, clearly pretending to be oblivious. Michael gritted his teeth. Of course, this would be difficult. Why had he expected anything else?
"You know what I mean," he said sharply, "No child murders… or for that matter, no murders of any kind."
"You're seriously not still going on about that are you?" William spoke as if they were talking about a spilled drink, "That was ages ago! Isn't there a statute of limitations on this sort of thing?"
Michael turned to face him, "I'm serious about this. I'm going to try and put my best foot forward today, and I expect the same of you."
William folded his arms, "Fine."
Michael sighed, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway. They drove in silence for several minutes, but it did not last too long.
"You know, you're hardly one to pass judgement," William said, knowing exactly what buttons to press.
"If you're referring to what I think you're referring to, then I don't see how we are remotely comparable."
"I'm just saying, Evan might still be with us if it wasn't for a certain someone."
"You know, it's really not a smart move to antagonize the driver," Michael warned.
"What happened to putting your best foot forward?"
"Firstly, that's what I'm doing, trust me things would be a lot different if I refused to put up with your bs. Secondly, I would like to remind you that he died because of the animatronic that you built, and that I had no idea things would wind up the way they did."
"Doesn't change the outcome though, does it?"
Michael nearly swerved off the road; he was beginning to realize that this day out with his father might have been a bad idea.
"Maybe we should just listen to music for the rest of the drive."
Neither of them said a word until they arrived at the theme park. Michael had chosen it primarily because of the free admission on the weekends. He wasn't exactly flush for cash, and he figured if nothing else they could walk around. Unfortunately, upon pulling up he came to the realization that a lot of other people had the same idea. The place was more packed than he had ever seen it before. Car after car was wedged side by side. He considered himself lucky to even find a spot to park in the first place.
Michael turned the engine off and unlocked the doors, "Remember, best behavior."
"Aren't I always?" Springtrap said, opening his door and stepping out. Michael wasn't entirely sure whether he was joking or not, but he decided he would find out sooner or later. He stepped out as well, closing the door and locking it.
Unfortunately, the two had to walk the entire length of the parking lot, which was less than ideal. As they did so, Michael noticed people giving them strange looks. Why did this always happen to him? His father was probably even more of a distraction than he was. He knew he should have just taken him somewhere in New York, no one ever gave him weird looks over there, but it was too late now. Besides, that was much too long of a drive. They would have to deal with the looks whether he liked it or no. He could only imagine the screams.
"Hey, can I grab a photo with you two?" it was a young woman, later teens, early twenties if Michael had to guess.
"You… you want a photo… with us?" he was taken aback by the request. In all honesty, it was the last thing he had expected.
"Well yeah! I really admire people who have the confidence to just go out and show off their cosplay," she pulled out her phone, snapping a few selfies, "Great job by the way. Did you make it yourself?"
"It was me and a friend actually," William said, "haven't seen him in a long time though."
"Ugh, I am so jealous. None of my friends want to help out with mine. Well thanks for the photo!" she ran off, catching up with a group of women around the same age.
"I have no idea what just happened," Michael sighed.
"You really must get out more," William taunted.
"Your one to talk! You were sealed up in a room for decades."
They continued into the park without much hassle. Everyone they passed seemed to either stare, or avoid direct eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike could have sworn he saw someone throw up into a trash can at the mere sight of him. The lengthy drive to New York didn't seem to bad by comparison now.
Suddenly, Springtrap put his arm out, stopping the both of them, "Michael look," he pointed over to one of the game stands. At first Mike was unsure as to what William was pointing towards, but looking a little closer he could make out four plushies hung up in the corner. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy, one of each. He was surprised to say the least. He had assumed that Fazbear Entertainment had stopped manufacturing those things years ago due to declining sales. They looked like the older ones; the ones Evan had had in his bedroom.
"C'mon, I'll get you one," William said, stomping towards the booth.
"Father, please, you really don't need to do that," in truth, the last thing Michael wanted was one of those plushies. As far as he was concerned, the whole Fazbear brand was nothing but bad memories, and it could burn to the ground for all he cared. Regardless, Springtrap didn't seem to pay much attention to his son's objections.
"Relax, even if we lose the game, I'll just ask him for one anyway. I am one of the founders after all."
"I… I don't think that's how it works."
"Which one do you want? Foxy, right? He was always your favorite,"
Michael shuddered. If he was going to be gifted one of these things against his will, then Foxy was definitely the last one he wanted. They had already reached the booth at this point. All the other customers seemed to clear away, much to the annoyance of the man running the thing.
"Hey, what do you two weirdos think you're doing?"
"What! weirdos?" William scoffed, "If that's the way you talk to potential customers, then I would hate to see how you treat everyone else!"
"Father, please, I really think it's time we get going," he grabbed Springtrap by the arm, attempting to lead him away. Michael knew it was useless to try, but at the very least he was hoping he could convince him to move away.
"Look bub, why don't you just listen to you're zombified friend and scooch."
"I don't much care for your tone," Springtap leaned in closer to the man at the booth.
People were staring. At first, Michael thought it was no different from how they observed before, but something had changed. Earlier, it had been out of horror, but now it was the same look one gave a car crash. Morbid curiosity. The crowd was interested to see what would happen next. Mike had never been this… observed before, and he didn't like it. He was used to sticking to the shadows, off to the side. For a long time, he had told himself that it was simply because of his appearance. His skin had decayed into a sickish-purple, and the very sight of him often horrified those nearby. It was only now, however, that he realized there was a second reason. Granted, this might have been a 'chicken or the egg' situation, but Mike was beginning to realize he didn't care for public interaction. The way these people looked at him, it made him deeply uncomfortable. He wanted so desperately to just slip away, but there was no way he could let his father do any damage.
"You know, I really think you should know who you're talking to before acting to brazenly rude," William warned, "You never know what might happen next."
"Is that a threat pal? Because I'm not above calling the security team."
"Father, it's not worth it. Let's just go, you're causing a scene."
Springtrap glanced around, looking at all the people standing at a safe distance from whatever they thought was about to happen.
"Whatever, not my style anyway," he huffed and stomped off, much to the disappointment of the onlookers.
Michael could feel his heart pounding, at least, he assumed it was his heart. Maybe it was just akin to a phantom limb. The majority of what had been scooped out of him was his digestive system, so he had always thought that some upper parts would still be intact, but he never had the nerves to check.
"The people working here are terrible," William growled, "A few missing employees would set them straight."
"No! We talked about this in the car, remember?" Michael put his hands on his hips, trying to sound authoritative.
"Would you relax? You know kids are the ones I go after anyway," he eyed a small child walking by with his mother. The boy briefly glanced towards them, only for the woman to grab his hand and pick up the pace.
"This is exactly the sort of thing I told you not to do! Haven't you learned anything after getting stuck in that suit? I would have thought you would be a little more sensible after getting your comeuppance."
Springtrap stared at him with hollow, glassy eyes. A chill ran down Mike's back. He didn't like being looked at like this, especially by and animatronic.
"Let's get one thing straight Michael," his father warned in a voice noticeably deeper than before, "I'm doing this because I feel like it. Everything that happened all those years ago, the deaths of Elizabeth and Evan, I could care less. They could still be alive for all I care, and nothing would change. I know you like to think that there's a sliver of what you call 'good' in me, but the truth of the matter is that things will never change. The only reason you're still alive is because I haven't gotten bored yet, but that is always subject to change. I've been trying to win you over, yet you seem set on being as difficult as possible. Do yourself a favor, and at least try and act like a good son. I know that's new territory for you." with that he clomped off.
Michael stood there for a moment, mouth agape.
"That's it, you bastard," he muttered under his breath, "first chance I get, you're burning."