The Puppet deals with the aftermath of its encounter as William begins to play some mind games.


Your imagination, reaching further through creation of design.

"You're not scared of the dark, you're scared of what could be in the dark. It's the fear of the unknown, just in another form… Hey, that rhymed." Matt had said to him not long ago. Evan hadn't understood the statement then, but he was beginning to grasp what the older boy had meant. When walking through the darkness of his room, he wasn't scared of the darkness itself, but rather what he could stumble upon while in it. That was what terrified him so much, that there could be a monster hiding right in front of him, waiting for Evan to bump into it or take him by surprise so it could eat him. This was why he constantly had to go to his parents' room at night. In his own bedroom he simply did not feel safe, but when his mother would lovingly cradle him, the boy felt untouchable, like no monster could ever lay a hand on him, as if there wasn't any way for him to be hurt.

Despite that, the practice did have its downsides. His father never hid his annoyance whenever Evan would seek their- his mom's comfort- and had even made a rule where the boy could only come to sleep in their bed three times a week, as a way to rid his son of the habit altogether, or at least those were his father's words.

It was more likely that was an excuse so his dad wouldn't have to see him more than he already did every day, but Evan kept that opinion to himself, lest he wanted to be punished even more severely. What upset him was the fact that Lizzie did not have to abide by the same rules as he did. She could come whenever, as many times as she wished and their father wouldn't comment how she shouldn't do so, especially since she was older than Evan, he'd actually be happy to have her sleep in their bed. The young Afton was pretty sure his sister didn't really need to come to their parents' room to sleep, but was doing so to make him jealous, if the constant raspberries she blew his way were any indication, when in reality she was the one jealous of him because their mother favored him more as of late.

In fact, since he had run away, Evan's mom had shown the boy more affection than she had in a long time, probably a year. He couldn't say he didn't enjoy it, but he would've liked for it to come sooner and not out of a place of worry for his safety. Of course, he was still grateful for it, but why was running away the thing that made his mother appreciate him more?

When he had seen the look in her eyes, it was then that he'd realized how much he had hurt her by leaving, and that she did actually care. Evan wasn't too sure he believed everything she had said, but it had been sufficient to take some of the pain off his shoulders. He'd truly meant his apology. Maybe he didn't fully regret running if it had brought the two of them closer, but he understood why it was a bad thing and that he shouldn't to do it again. He had sworn not to repeat it, and to assure him, his mother had also promised that she'd be there for him a lot more moving forward, promise which so far, she hadn't broken, to his immense delight. He too would keep his promise he had decided that day, if only so his mom could be proud of him.

After his father had entered Charlie and Matt's house, the young Afton's remorse had been entirely replaced with fear. Terror at what other colorful words his father would use to describe him, or whether or not he'd receive the same treatment as his older brother.

Mikey's smothered crying sometimes haunted his dreams, him being the only witness to it. He hadn't meant to hear, but given how their rooms were not that far apart from each other he'd occasionally listen to his brother's sobs. He hadn't ever seen what was going on, but alas, his imagination took care of that aspect. Neither his sister nor his mom knew. And Mikey never talked to anyone about it. He'd kill Evan if he were to mention it, even as a slipup. So, he didn't.

The boy had shuddered when he'd met his dad's eyes that day, silently readying himself for the tears that would inevitably spill, but to his great relief and surprise, they never did.

The only thing his father had asked was why the boy decided to run away from home and if it was some attempt at getting their attention, to which Evan had quietly responded by saying that all he had meant to do was get away, believing he wasn't wanted. The disappointment in his dad's eyes had been harsh, deepening the boy's guilt, but no punishment came after his confession. No shouting or scolding. Nothing. Evan did not count his birthday not being celebrated as a punishment when it came to his father. It shocked him that he'd been let off the hook and he still struggled to imagine what could have caused it, but he wasn't complaining. He'd rather his father ignored him than berate his worth as a human being.

At least from Evan's perspective, his dad pretty much ran the house, and even his mom wouldn't go against his wishes unless they were arguing. She went along with most things he said, to the boy's regret. He would've preferred his mother making the majority of the rules around the house and whatnot. Her expectations were reasonable for her children, unlike her husband. Sadly, Evan couldn't change the state of his family, only hope that it would improve as time went on, which was as improbable as it sounded.

Evan did notice something weird about is mother however. Recently, she'd started acting jumpier, and seemed on edge every time his dad was in the same room as her. Honestly, he couldn't really blame her, his dad could be the scariest person when he got angry, and he had a way with words that hurt on so many different levels that it was reasonable even his mom would be afraid of the man. Just mentioning that Evan was friendless had been enough to make him cry.

And speaking of friends, he'd went to kindergarten for the first time and it was… well, just as he had expected it to be. The children there were no less mean than his siblings, perhaps even meaner. By now though, he'd become numb to the constant bullying. Sure, it upset and made him cry just like before, but it didn't stab his heart as much as it did early on. The only real friends he could say he had, excluding the shadow, were Charlie and Matt, but their relationship was a little iffy since both of them were older than he was and treated him like a younger brother. He didn't mind it, but it wasn't exactly what he'd envisioned. Although, he supposed he had no right to whine about it when no other kids would treat him properly, and he was happy the two of them did.

Evan couldn't help but want for things to be like this between him, Lizzie and Mikey. What he wouldn't give for his actual brother to look at him with something other than resentment or for Liz to be a little kinder to him and not yell every time he displeased her.

The only other person- er, robot- that he might consider a friend was Mr. Marionette, who it had only seen once while at Uncle Henry's place. The robot looked like one of those Jack-in-the-box type of characters that would jump out to spook you, toys Evan had none of due to their nature. But even with its unsettling appearance, Mr. Marionette as he taken to calling it, was nothing except gentle. It hadn't tried to frighten the boy and had even gifted Evan a flashlight after Matt had told it that Evan has trouble sleeping.

While not being as comfortable as a teddy bear, the flashlight provided Evan with a sense of security comparable to his mother's, allowing him to see in the dark, and so the young Afton did not go to bed without carrying it in his hands, hugging it close to his torso to prevent it from being stolen. But the object was not just a means for him to see at night. No. It was special, and not simply because it had been gifted to him by a strange mime. It had changed. How, he didn't know, but he did know that the torch was not normal.

For one thing, since a couple of days ago, Evan didn't have to change its batteries anymore. Initially, it could only operate for a couple of hours at full power, the mode Evan used it on, before needing its batteries swapped. Now its charge seemed to be infinite, shining brightly for hours on end without the faintest flicker. Another thing was the fact that by merely holding it, somehow, the boy's tears would be held at bay, and if he were to turn it on then the flashlight quite literally made him feel as though he could take on anything. Like he could stare down the ugliest of monsters and not die of horror immediately. It inspired him, made him braver than he could hope to be. It was a blessing; one the young Afton wouldn't forget anytime soon.

But perhaps the most peculiar detail about it was the fact that the dark hid from it. It was as if Evan could hear a silent howl of pain whenever he turned it on to check his closet, under his bed and the two hallways that led to his room. Not only did it illuminate the area Evan was pointing it towards, space all around the boy became more visible when on, as if the shadows were afraid of its light. It shone like a beacon, informing everything of its radiance, yet purging all incoming malice with incredible ease.

Lately the atmosphere in his room had gotten heavier, as if there was something other than him present inside. The air was thicker and it was harder to breathe without feeling your throat catch on fire, although Evan was the only one out of his family to experience said sensations, so to have a source of purity that rid him of all those negative feelings was a convenience he was lucky to possess.

Funnily enough, his shadowy friend who he'd normally associate those feelings with hadn't shown its face around in a while. Evan hoped he hadn't done anything to upset it, he could not bear the thought of making one of his friends up and leave because he'd made them think he wasn't worth their time. Just the idea that he was at fault was plenty of reasons to make his eyes water. He shook his head, praying that wasn't true. No, he couldn't think like that, he had to be optimistic that wasn't the case if he didn't want to worry himself for nothing. After all, the shadow could just be taking a break and when it'd be finished it'd return. Yeah, he decided he liked the sound of that so he wouldn't question his friend's disappearance any longer.

Evan took in a deep breath as his fingers brushed the sticky note glued to the torch's body. His mother had told him what had been written on it since he couldn't read, and he was happy to say the flashlight hadn't failed its purpose in the slightest. Mr. Marionette and Matt had been very considerate to give him this, and he'd made a mental note to thank them the next time they met. Right now, however, he had other things to worry about. Like the parquet creaking he thought he could hear outside the right hallway.

The boy pressed his ear on the white door to better hear the approaching footsteps. They were, well, they weren't coming for his door, but they were not walking away either. They were too slow to leave thuds behind but whatever was causing them was very heavy. It sounded like scrapping chalk on a board. How was no one else hearing this? There was no effort to conceal them, almost as if the thing on the other side of the door wanted him to hear it. But then the question would be why. Why would a potential danger announce itself like this? Was it a distraction for something else, was it meant to scare him? That might've been more effective if he wasn't holding onto the torch, but at the moment the only thing he was feeling was dread, not fear.

Swallowing, Evan opened his door, immediately turning on the light.

Nothing. There was no one. The lit-up hall didn't house any deformed nightmarish creature. The creaking had also stopped. He thought he heard the stifled, distorted groan of a bear or a lion in the distance, reverberating throughout the floor, but it was too hard to make out and happened so fast he couldn't tell if it had been real or not.

The boy kept the light on for a little while longer, focusing in the distance where the light didn't reach. Was that…? Was there something peeking out from behind the corner? Evan squinted.

There was! Something was staring at him from the hall's end. If he focused enough, he could spot two small, dim dots in the darkness. They were at a higher eye level than he was, but he was certain they were there.

Before he could shut the door, he heard a dog's barking echoing outside. The sound froze him. His family didn't have dogs. Not only did the sound not belong to a wolf, there weren't any in the forest surrounding his house. Distracted, he glanced at the two windows on the wall for a brief second and when he looked back where he'd seen the dots they were gone. Evan blinked.

He saw them, didn't he? They'd been there just a moment ago. He was not imagining.

Evan cautiously closed the door, making sure it wouldn't creak like the parquet earlier while keeping the torch on. The young Afton let out a breath he didn't know he was holding upon shutting the door, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Normally, he'd be cowering under his blanket, afraid to even let one foot hang from the bed, much lase dare to get down. But he had help in the form of Mr. Marionette's gift. Evan Afton wasn't afraid.

The boy made to tip toe to the other side of the room to check the left hall but gasped when he saw that he wasn't alone. Clumsily dropping the flashlight, making it turn off from the impact, he backed away until he was right against the door, eyes widened. His hands trembled as his chest rose rapidly in sporadic spasms.

There, in the middle of his room, looking right at him, was his father. The man's expression was blank, lacking any reaction to having been seen, almost like he was invisible.

Evan hadn't heard him enter. The other door should've creaked at least a little no matter how careful one might've been, and yet it hadn't. His father had all but appeared in his room. But that wasn't the disturbing part. That was the fact that his dad's eyes bore through the boy like he too was transparent when he wasn't. Those silver eyes had a threatening gloss to them that didn't match the rest of his father's obscured face. Without the torch, he could hardly see his dad's form in the darkness, but the man was there.

The silence continued for who knew how long, before his father decided to speak.

"What are you doing up at this hour, Evan?" his voice was wrong. There was something else besides just his dad speaking. He made to answer but a flash of black behind his father interrupted him. Regaining his composure, the boy gulped down.

"I um… I- I thought I h- heard scrapping o- outside my room so I wanted to s- see what it w- was." a single eyebrow was raised in response.

"Did you now…" he spoke coldly, leaning his head forward a bit. The corners of his lips tugged at a minor smile. "Hmm…" the man hummed, contemplating. He took a few methodical steps towards his boy and knelt down before him. William flashed his son the widest grin he could manage and although it went unnoticed by the boy a chill still went down his spine. He winced when his father put a hand on his hair, patting it affectionately. "Go to sleep, Evan." he said finally. It felt like it was a… warning? But there was no undertone of malice behind it. Evan was quivering too much to think straight, calmness brought by the torch forgotten. What was this? Why was his father not screaming at him? He was being… No, this wasn't real… Or was it? The touch felt real, but…

Evan didn't understand.

Without another word, the man got up, turned around to the other door, opened it and left, wood creaking as he closed it. No footsteps were produced as his father departed.

The boy felt a pair of eyes on him even as he was standing all alone. The pressure was suffocating. It crawled to the depths of his mind, raising the hair on the back of his neck. A broken recording of a VHS played somewhere in the background, noise garbled and far from Evan's room. He reached for the flashlight as fast as he could.

The light shined in the darkness. Nothing. The pressure had greatly subsided. He was okay. He was fine. He was. He hadn't been hurt. Everything was fine. He shouldn't worry, because that hadn't been real.

Evan had imagined it. Like he always did.

He sees things that aren't there and only wastes time. The words of his father rang true. He was seeing things. If his father were to have actually come to check on him, Evan would've been read the riot act. He would've been crying.

He wasn't.

There were no tears running down his cheeks.

Evan understood… Every waking moment was a dream.

o0o

The onslaught of negative energy that had engulfed its being hadn't affected it that much. It might've been because it had just outgrown its code so the fury couldn't damage it anymore, only temporarily distract it, or maybe it was because its body was that of a robot that didn't possess the "essence of life", for lack of a better term, as opposed to humans and animals. It wasn't sure. What it was sure of however was the fact that what it had done and was continuing to do was beyond absurd, and shouldn't have been achievable in any way, shape or form.

It looked down at its hands, gritting its fingers repeatedly, then at the tips of its legs, observing how it was somehow kept suspended in the air without touching the ground, exactly four feet up. The Puppet then looked up at the sky, its calm instilling into the robot. It felt at peace, despite the short fight that had taken place moments ago. This was an unexpected development, but one that was undeniably real. It had felt itself reverse to a previous state, the one right after its birth where it had been nothing more than a brilliant machine. It had felt its…

Its emotions be suppressed, deleted from its mind like a bad piece of code. IT had felt its own way of processing be reverted to analogies, comparisons and cross-references, to nothing more than syphoning responses off of preexisting data combined with new information. In that one haunting moment… it had no longer thought of the little ones as its children, but purely as… objects of interest, things to learn from, guard and entertain.

Even with the mental assault it had been suffering the Puppet had felt a disgust so profound for being forced to think like that… But not disgust directed at the instigator, although it had plenty for him too. It was hatred for itself, for failing, for knowing what would've happened yet being powerless to stop it. For allowing such a thing to happen.

The rage it had felt had been feeding the shadow, but also its own being. It had been the perfect push it needed to utilize the memory's results in order to evolve. A part of it had died in that moment. The code that had been extinguished would not be coming back, but what emerged far surpassed the previous form. This Marionette was a new entity, a combination of the old one coupled with the light from the other side of the door that the memory had unlocked. A glimpse of a future brought into the present and stored into the vessel that was its physical form.

The memory had been the key with which the Puppet had opened the door to receive its first gift. A present full of emotion and the remains of a previous soul wrapped in sheets of life.

It was its own now, to use how it saw fit. Different from both the future and the past. And that hadn't even been its only door to open. There were more. More gateways waiting for it to find the keys to. It could see them. Somewhere inside its mind, they were lined up one after the other, with some separated, and many branching off, but all kept in a forest of infinite trees. One that did not belong to it or anyone of this world. A crossroads between... everything. A place that was not meant to be found, at least by normal ways. Mari knew that the owner had granted it access so it could improve. It was rather unorthodox, but this would be the only outside help it'd receive. The other pieces had been arranged on the chessboard. All it had to do was move them. Not alone however, as there was another player involved, one that it wouldn't fight against, but with. The two of them would fight to continue the game, to draw it out for as long as possible until all the pieces had been knocked out and then end it.

Mari didn't know how it knew this, it simply did. The information had popped into its head just like the files. Maybe as a way for it to better comprehend the reality it found itself in. That would be the most logical explanation.

It observed every door, noting how they were all plain looking, but that didn't matter as often times the most insignificant and innocent of things held the darkest secrets. Perhaps it wasn't meant to open all of them. Some things are best left forgotten forever, after all, but many it felt it had to unlock. That if it didn't it would drown in untold suffering. But not just it either, everyone surrounding the Marionette would. It promised it would open as many as it took to ensure that wouldn't happen. It couldn't allow it. The Puppet had been placed responsible for all of those fates, alongside the other player, who it was certain it was already very close to.

There were not just its own doors there. The forest housed an unending number of them, as many as it did trees. They belonged to other people, evident by their different colors. The Puppet's were black and white. Fitting, it supposed. Everyone had their own roads to walk. This was Mari's, and the robot accepted it without refute.

Well, it had seen enough. The Puppet refocused on the present, observing how gravity no longer applied to its being. It saw a bird flapping its wings high up into the sky and got an idea. The problem was that it didn't know how to proceed. It had been a machine less than five minutes ago, so it did not really "get" the concept of concentration, but it felt as though it had to master it if it desired to reach the goal it had in mind. Perhaps it involved repeating the same thing over and over again, ignoring all distractions until it succeeded. And so that's what it did. The same thought ran through its head again and again as it stared at its striped legs until…

Was the ground moving away from it? Wait, no, it was the other way around. It was rising. A chime of disbelief escaped its music box, then another, and another. By the time it got to the second floor of the house the Puppet was trilling with laughter, what went down minutes ago irrelevant at the moment.

Mari did not stop its ascent. It kept going until it passed the rooftop and then even higher, watching in awe as the horizon line expanded and the world got bigger and bigger. The Puppet spun around in the air, taking in the sights in amazed silence. The mountain line that was always overseeing the town was now in perfect view, and the Marionette could admire it in all its glory. The quaint little town of Hurricane got smaller until it appeared as nothing more than a grey texture filled with colored squares under Mari's feet. It could see everything from up here; the road that led to the highway outside of Hurricane, the Quail Creek and Sand Hollow Parks, the neighboring towns such as La Verkin, it even spotted the abandoned Silver Reef among the rocky terrain of Utah.

Its gazing however was stopped when a flock of birds flew right into it, breaking its concentration and causing the Puppet to freefall. Luckily, panic was not included in its range of emotions, and Mari was able to regain control relatively easily, stabilizing its decent at just one mile above the surface.

By now it did not require its outdated programs to help it process the splendor of the experience. They had served their purpose to get it to this point, but a big part of its programming was now only for show. The Marionette had surpassed its limitations, being able to enjoy the gorgeous painting before its optics without all of its systems crashing from an overload. It was more than magnificent, spectacular or breathtaking if it could breathe. Those were all buzzwords that did little justice to the scene around the Puppet.

It felt privileged that it could witness it, that it wasn't limited by common sense and kept on the ground. It'd only be right if someone else got to live this along with it. It was lonely being up here. Mari wanted to share this with those close to it, specifically the two children under its care. It could only imagine their reactions at seeing the world from this perspective. Who on earth had done this before anyway?

The answer was no one. Those two would be the first. They deserved it. It would offer them the whole world. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it promised to bring them up here so they could see this.

A sudden thought occurred to the Puppet. This was the perfect opportunity to go and check on its children, make sure they were okay, while also practicing not plummeting to its destruction. It still had plenty of time before they'd finish school so it could take it slow and learn how to fly properly. The Marionette knew where the school was. They'd past it on their trip to Fredbear's and it could see the building even from where it currently was. Conveniently, at this time of day, it didn't need to worry about being seen as most people were at work or would confuse it for a bird since it was so high up. Not being noticed on the ground was also of little concern. If there was one thing its creator had done right when designing it was to make it incredibly flexible where it could fold and compress so effectively it was able to hide in plain sight behind the thinnest of objects.

Nodding to itself, the Puppet began floating at a leisurely pace to the school, vigilant not to let its guard down a second time. It would sneakily search for its kids then return home before Mr. Emily realized it was gone. It wasn't as if he was paying attention to its presence anyway since he was busy with his friend.

Both children had been quite adorable and it made the Puppet happy they were safe and sound. Charlotte was so kind to all her classmates it was no wonder the redheaded little one was so keen on making her his friend. Well, that was neither here nor there yet. He'd have to prove himself if he wished to be that close to her. Matthew meanwhile had spent his break next to a girl. They both seemed pretty comfortable leaning on each other, and it had patently thought it was cute how nonchalant they were about it. Mari would, unfortunately, have to keep itself from teasing its kids since they did not know it had been there, but those moments had been imprinted into its Memory Banks and would remain there for as long as it existed. For safekeeping of course. Not as evidence that it had been snooping, no-no, but as ways to reflect on the past once those two got older. To embarrass, take joy in a couple of heartfelt moments, that was all.

Anyway, it was getting distracted.

Placing the tennis ball on the table, the Marionette hoped flight was the trickier ability to master. It had gotten the hang of it, but there were too many variables involved to figure it out in just one go. By "focusing", it could propel itself in a predetermined direction, however, if it overdid it then the Puppet would spiral out of control at high speeds and would have to cut its concentration short to stop. If it wanted to change trajectories likewise it would need to stop concentrating, then think of a new direction it wanted to go in and then begin to focus once more. It was a complicated process that took time, and Mari would rather it start with the simpler things. Like trying to move objects with its mind.

The shadow hadn't necessitated much effort on its part. The fact it didn't impact its surroundings when smashed into them suggested it did not have a material body like Mari did, but was instead an incorporeal being, and perhaps that was what made it so easy to swing around, but actual objects were another story. Plus, Mari had been furious.

This was the purpose of this experiment. The Marionette had started off small, using a light object that was even supposed to be swung around. In theory, the principle should be the same. Focus on moving the object, imagine it sliding across the table, only this time the object isn't you. It made sense that the Puppet could utilize its powers more reliably on its being, given how that was where they came from, but it needed to test its capabilities. Could it move weightless bodies or all types of bodies?

The tennis ball did not want to budge, but maybe it was doing it wrong. Mari had tried thinking of calling the ball to it while also focusing on the toy and yet came up empty handed. Maybe gestures were required for this to work, like how the Marionette had to move its real arms to beat the shadow.

Raising its right arm as if to grab the tennis ball, it refocused on the action of pulling the ball towards it while also moving its hand backwards. There was a chance it had overshot its power, or the green toy couldn't be affected at all, but it felt as though it could make it move.

After tens of minutes where it had sat down on the sofa, staring intently at the toy and repeating the same motion countless times the ball had finally done what it wanted and rolled a little to the left, to the Puppet's well masked chagrin. Still, that was progress. The trouble was that Mari didn't have a lot of patience when it came abilities that it had to control in order to help its children. Even so, the Marionette had pushed through the growing frustration for two hours only to be able to move the tennis ball by a couple of inches in a straight line. Feeling like it would cave the nearest breakable item if this kept on, the Puppet had given up for the day, deciding it had done more than could be expected out of it on its first try.

Not falling to its death had been a success, so a streak of two so quickly after each other was indeed far-fetched. It would've loved to learn this as fast as possible, but found that it wasn't in the optimal mood to continue. So, it rested for the remainder of Monday, taking great care of its children. Evidently, no other pastime could be counted as rest in the Marionette's optics, as it had been built for that job and that job only.

The next day Mari had spent the entire morning after saying goodbye to Charlotte and Matthew practicing further, getting the ball to roll to it. It was slow, painfully so, having to watch as the ball would turn on its axis while keeping it from falling off the table without touching it. After it had grown sick of that particular activity, it had opted to hover throughout the house. Levitating had been hard at first, but in comparison to moving things by thinking it was a cake walk. Mari didn't even have to practice much as the ability came so perfectly to the Puppet, almost as if it was second nature, swiftly replacing the need to use its legs to travel. Now, the striped appendages would loosely hang from its waist, no longer having a need for them. It still used them when the little ones and Mr. Emily were around, but it had gotten used to the new method of transportation so fast it couldn't imagine what losing it would be like. Truthfully, that rapid of an adaptation actually concerned Mari at least a little bit, but it didn't pay it much heed, thinking this was what it was meant to do. The future memories definitely showed it floating, which might've explained why the action came so naturally to the Puppet.

It also could've answered why the Puppet was having trouble with the Telekinesis, as nowhere in those files did it show Mari moving objects without directly touching them.

Stop Memory File

Ah, it was nice to have control over its systems. Whatever had overridden its commands a week ago had essentially saved it, Matthew and Charlotte, as well as a potentially endless number of victims. Of course, the shadow wasn't gone, not even close, but warding off its attack prevented it from going on the offensive and inflicting more pain. It was probably licking its wounds in whatever hole it had crawled out of. Good.

On the upside, now the Marionette knew what it looked like and could actively stop it from further bothering its children, so no more preying on the little one at night while he's sleeping. If only it had been able to destroy it Matthew wouldn't have to worry at all about being traumatized in a time that was supposed to be reserved for repose.

When it made the mistake of showing its ugly head once again the Puppet would make sure to kill it. There'd be no third time. It'd die and stay dead, for everyone. For now, things had been peaceful, as they were supposed to be, but Mari still remained on high alert. It would've been foolish to assume the creature wouldn't take advantage of its carelessness, of which there was none in its regularly reflecting mind.

A full week had gone by in a flash before the Puppet knew it. Mastering Telekinesis was still underway, but it was coming along well. It could've been faster, more precise, but being frustrated about these things would do nothing except increase the rate of failure, so whether it liked it or not Mari had to conform to the hateful little thing that was patience and go along with it.

At present the Marionette was looking forward to asking the children what their first- second in Charlotte's case- impressions on school were. It had thought that one week was an appropriate amount of time for them to form an opinion on the matter, and now was the perfect occasion to question them about it. Mari settled on starting with Matthew, as he was the rookie. He'd be sure to have something interesting to say as this was a new experience for him. Later it planned on comparing their opinions to see how a newbie's differed from a… well, not a veteran's, but a "senior's". It would undoubtedly offer the animatronic valuable knowledge that it could use to aid the both of them in improving themselves. That was its main goal in all of this.

They'd recently begun a new chapter in their lives, and the Puppet would be there to oversee it and lend a helping hand whenever they needed it.

Mari opened the notebook and took the pen from the boy's hand, writing its first question as it played a tune.

"I've been meaning to ask this since you came home on Monday but I decided it was better to give you some time to adjust. I was wondering what you thought of school thus far, if it's not too much trouble to answer." Matthew scratched his head, handing the notebook back to it.

"Um, hmm, well, it was fine. Like, we did some math problems… uh, read some texts at English and um…" he paused, searching for anything else to add. "Yeah, that's not really what you want to hear, is it? It's just, I'm pretty used to brushing off these types of conversations about school `cause, you know, I'm always kinda sick of it and nothing cool ever happens. I don't want to be rude, but um…" that implied that he'd been to school before, which was false. Mari suspected he didn't know where to start.

"It is alright. You do not have to continue. I imagine it is quite the staggering change to what you've been familiar with. It's understandable that it has yet to make an impression on you. It will in time, I'm certain." Matthew did not agree from his expression, though he wasn't sure how to put it.

"Uh, that's not it. See, the thing is, no one's really taken an interest into those things when it comes to me, mostly `cause I don't talk to people about `em. I mean, my parents would ask how training went today, what I did or whatever and I'd just say it was fine and never elaborate. We didn't have those types of talks, ya know. So, um, if you want know… truth is it was boring. There were a bunch of times where I almost fell asleep in class, the stuff the teacher taught us was so easy I've no idea how the other kids thought it was hard. When we had to write something Miss Lawrence had to repeat her sentences over and over again `cause people couldn't write fast enough, and she's a super bad educator, like, what's she even doing as a teacher? She starts speaking and all you hear is nonsense since she talks like we're all little children. I don't know, she can't explain jack right…" oh… poor Matthew. It seemed like his first week wasn't all that great. He was in need of some serious cheering up.

"And the classmates… Most are okay I guess, they're not specimens thankfully, but there's this one guy who's been pranking me nonstop. First it was a whoopie cushion on my seat that I didn't see because I was sleepy, but then he just kept going. Stealing my things and acting like he didn't do it, putting a pin on my chair, pulling my chair from under me, sticking a paper that said kick me on my back and on and on as if he was the funniest dude. Damn clown." the little one shook his head, completely done with the pranking. "I understand teasing the new guy but he was going overboard with his crap. I had to stop myself from punching him like eighteen times. I even told him to stop and he still didn't. God… what a spoiled brat" Matthew's palms covered his face. "It was like that time I was talking to this girl and everyone thought I was asking her out and then that became a meme in the whole school that they all made fun off… School was living hell, back then and now too." he grumbled lamentably. Mari had only caught the last bit in parts, but the fact that the boy's first week had went so bad was concerning. It wrote its reply thoughtfully.

"Perhaps we shouldn't focus on your classmates. Not every child is an angel, unlike the two of you." the boy snorted as he read, earning a pleased jingle from the Puppet. "Did you make any friends?"

"A couple. They've included me in their friend group though, I wasn't the one to join. I've told ya about them. Carlton's exasperating but he's a bro so that's cool, Mike's shy but he's nice once he feels more comfortable talking to you, John's uh, meh, he's there, kinda like me, just hanging around, and Lamar… I think I get along the best with him. He's laid back and you can just vibe with the dude. I like him." the Marionette nodded; glad it hadn't been all bad. It chimed in amusement at the next question that popped into its mind.

"Splendid, but what about the girls? Did you talk to any of them?" the way his eyes widened the tiniest amount before steadying into a mistrustful frown made Mari giggle internally.

"Nope." he bit his lips. "The only girls I had any meaningful interactions with were Jessica and Marla, but they're friends with Charlie and honestly, that's fine with me. I'm pushing my luck with how open I've been lately."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're doing very well, Matthew. Everyone's proud of you." he smiled meekly at the assurance.

"…Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't be so dramatic, but I can't help being a wallflower, ya know. I was like a vampire before Henry took me in. Never really leaving my room and spending time with other kids, we had… other ways to talk to each other even when we were apart, so none of us went out that much."

"You'll have as much time as you need to adjust, and you won't be alone along the way, but… are you positive it was only those two? That you didn't spend time with any other girls?" it wrote, sculpted smile becoming thinner.

"…Yeah, why?"

"Oh, just out of curiosity. Don't mind me, little one." the Puppet leaned back, crossing its arms, humming courteously.

"Uh huh." the doubt hadn't left his voice at all. The Marionette was losing to the urge of breaking into a chiming fit. "Well, um, hey, so since you wanted to talk there's something I'd like to ask too."

"Certainly." Matthew glanced to the side for a few seconds hesitating.

"So, you know how we made our deal? I didn't get the chance to ask you, but it's been bugging me for a while now. Um, you kinda made it seem like you knew what'll happen when you accepted, I mean you didn't even question it, so uh, I think now's as good a time as any to ask what exactly you know, because you do know some stuff and uh, and if we're going to be partners, we'll need to share the same level of knowledge to be effective together. I can catch you up on whatever it is that you don't know." little Matthew was hinting that he may have more information than the Puppet did, which would beg the question as to how he might've gotten that knowledge. He was technically older than Mari, and if the Puppet was any example, future memories could appear since the moment of "birth", so was that the case for him? Did he even receive that data the same way the Puppet did or was it through an unrelated method?

What exactly had he seen and how much should the Puppet reveal? Should Mari go into detail about Evan Afton's murder at the bullies' hands? Matthew had said he knew there would be casualties, so an attempt to spare him the brutality of the matter wouldn't count for much. It'd be counterproductive. Mari was torn between revealing everything or omitting some particularly gruesome parts due to him being so young.

But the thing was… Matthew had lost his youthful innocence the moment he was made aware of these events. There was no real reason for the Puppet to shield or try to maintain the boy's purity when it had been stained other than to give itself a sense of undeserved peace. Mari hated that its little one hadn't been allowed to have a normal childhood and instead had been burdened with the info of events outside of his control that'd haunt him for the rest of his existence. It hated that the choice to know them could've been taken away from the boy for all it knew. A child that should be enjoying the beautiful things in life was tied to massive pillars of responsibility, when he should only concern himself with having fun. The weight should've stopped him and yet here he was, keeping whole destinies on his shoulders, possibly unaware of just how big his cross was and still carrying it.

It was unfair to Matthew, but no matter how hard Mari wished to strangle whoever had done this to its boy, it couldn't. All the Puppet could do was accept the reality and adapt. Move on with the ache in its nonexistent heart that a happy childhood had been cut short and try its absolute best to mend it.

The Marionette made up its mind. There was no reason to ponder this any longer, keeping the boy in suspense even longer. It would tell him.

"There are four "ghosts" to whom I offer the gift of life in the future, the fifth being alive without my assistance. Evan Afton will be killed at the hands of four bullies while at Fredbear's due to his father's insistence on changing the bear's mouth pistons to be stronger and a man in purple will dismantle the animatronics of a large location."

"Go on" so far, he didn't appear fazed.

"There are certain keywords, or objects that will trigger these memories to occur in my Memory Banks. Each time I view one of these files I become more aware. I can feel it. There are comparable to visions."

"Visions, huh?... Yeah, that's pretty much the same for me, only they happen when I sleep, and they've been going on for a while, even before Henry made you… Well, everything that you saw is true. Afton is the one to kill those ghosts you were talking about, they're part of the people we have to save, and he's also the purple guy that takes apart those robots. FYI, if you ever see a purple man in your visions that acts odd chances are it's Afton. Maybe not always, I don't know, but its highly probable that it'll be him." the Puppet mulled over the new information quietly. With glowing dots, it picked up the notebook.

"Are those ghosts actual children?" it watches as Matthew's mouth formed into a line. He nodded curtly, but the Marionette had already understood. "Afton cannot be permitted to live." it wasn't a request, but rather a statement.

"Whoa, hey, let's not be too hasty, we can't just do that." the genuine alarm was clear in the boy's tone. It was to be expected.

"Not we. I shall dispose of him the moment I'll see him. You will be safe." that served to further disturb him, his jaw hanging open. The boy blinked the bewilderment out of his face.

"Mari, we can't kill him right away. Are you hearing yourself? We have to wait things out so we can stop what he'll do then get rid of him." how what was supposed to be a pleasant discussion had turned into this baffled the Puppet. It detested that it had to discuss this with a child, but there was no room for argument. Afton was a threat that endangered everyone. Mari was more than happy to take the burden of disposing of the man. After all, a little one should not under any circumstances be put in that position and this was the most efficient way to solve the problem that was William Afton.

"He is a danger to all that come into contact with him, adults and children. He needs to be removed as soon as possible so as to not cause anyone pain. There isn't time to wait. The logical thing to do is to strike at the earliest convenience."

"And what do you think is gonna happen then?! Hmm!?" the boy snapped suddenly, earning a surprised sizzle from the animatronic. "I'll tell ya: Henry will be heartbroken `cause his best friend was killed by his creation, he's gonna scrap you and then probably become a mess of self-loathing and regret, Charlie's gonna be marked for life knowing her friend that she's been living with killed her uncle for no reason, she won't be able to turn to her father because he'll be a wreck and she's never going to have a normal life afterwards and on top of all of that, Mari, you're gonna leave a mother to care for three children all on her own. Do you realize what killing him will do to the rest of his family, who while deserving better would still be negatively affected by his death?" Matthew stopped to take a breath, staring down the Puppet. "Listen, believe me when I say that I would want nothing more than for Afton to die, but we're not that desperate. We have time, we know what's gonna happen and we can stop it. We're not… I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself just so we do this faster." his voice hitched. "I'm not trading yours, or anybody else's life over this. Killing him is a last resort only. It's worst-case scenario. If nothing works then we kill him, but until then we do this the hard way, `cause otherwise a lot of people will be ruined. We can figure out how to incriminate him, or get rid of him in an inconspicuous way so no one'll bat an eye, but that's after we've dealt with what's to come. Right now, it's too soon. We have to wait at least until the diner opens so that when Laura becomes a widow, she'll have a steady source of income for three kids."

They locked gazes in a brief moment of silence, Matthew's stern stare not daring to leave his visage. The shock of the outburst kept the Puppet frozen. It was the one to break eye contact, tilting its head downwards to look at its lap, music box emitting a low, dialing sound. Mari digested the information, abruptly regretting thinking of ending the man's life when the devastated images of little Evan and Elizabeth appeared in its mind.

No.

It could not allow them to go through that. They might love a monster of a father, but they didn't know it, and they shouldn't suffer because of their ignorance.

Matthew was… Matthew was right, in the end. The truth was he was right, as horrible as it was.

The ends did not justify the means. Children shouldn't suffer for the sake of other children. They had other options. They could do this without attacking him if they were cautions and prepared. And they would be.

They would.

Its dear boy sighed.

"I'm sorry for yelling." his tone was bathed in remorse. "But the only way this is ending is with me buried six feet under, if they find my body." Mari's mask visibly contorted as it raised its head to face the boy, rattling loudly in objection. "Not you, not Charlie, not Henry, no one else will be a victim of this besides me. That's what I'm here for, and it's not up for debate." The Puppet got off the bed but was halted by Matthew's raised hand. "…I know how it sounds, but I'm fine with it. I- I've accepted it... Look, someone will have to die to stop him, I'd rather that someone be me, and not anyone that we're trying to save or isn't involved to begin with." Matthew's sagged posture and imploring yet placid features were so… demoralized. Its optics linked his determination to that of a martyr. That's what he intended to be, didn't he? "…I'm not gonna allow children to be forgotten when I'm the one that isn't supposed to be here." it was as if he had read its mind. Mari chimed bitterly at his confirmation.

It was obvious there was nothing the Marionette could do to change his mind.

A wave of guilt washed over the animatronic. Its chest speaker receded in volume by a remarkable margin. It crouched in front of the boy, giving his shoulders a soft squeeze. Matthew looked to the left; arms stuck to his sides. The green glow of the Puppet's optics ebbed a little.

If he wouldn't let Mari die for the sake of others, then neither would the Puppet let him give his life for them. It would keep him safe if it was the last thing it did. Save him no matter the cost. If he were to perish and be forgotten he'd die twice. But he wouldn't, because he was a living, feeling, irreplaceable soul who deserved to be remembered, unlike Mari, who was just a machine; lines of code lacking the spark that gave people their humanity. A mere copy of them.

No, the Puppet would put him back together.

Always.

Matthew puffed a short, cynical laugh, lost in his own thoughts. He rested his head in the crook of Mari's neck.

For now, they were okay.

And things were good.

o0o

His dear wife was not well.

He had noticed the telltale signs for a while but hadn't brought it up. She would've talked to him if she wanted him to know what was bothering her.

What are you hiding? William couldn't help think to himself. He despised not knowing what was going on in his house. His own family could not keep secrets from him, but he'd never informed them of that out of a misplaced desire to respect their perception of privacy. A mistake on his part. He might've acted like he didn't see Laura hesitate when she was around him, how her stance faltered every now and again whenever he entered the same room as her or how her fingers would jerk at times, but he'd seen them all. She'd never had these weird quirks in the fifteen years they'd known each other.

It started after the stunt Evan pulled so it could be that she'd yet to fully recover from the incident, for which he couldn't fairly blame her. He too had been affected by it, though not in the same way as her. The whole thing made him realize just how emotionally inept his son really was. If he were to be left the way he was, William wouldn't give him another ten years before the boy killed himself. The world was a hellish place, one Evan wasn't made for, which was why William sought to fix his son so he wouldn't become like the letdown that was his older brother.

But back to Laura, he was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she'd been shaken. Even still, there remained a part of his brain that suspected her to be deliberately hiding something from him and... well, if that was true, he'd find out like he always did, among other things.

Anyway, now wasn't an opportune time to worry about that, and not just because Henry would be coming over, but because his dearest daughter was laughing her lungs out in excitement as she ran around the house after her new quadruped friend. He took a sip of his drink as he observed Elizabeth's long eared pet run over his shoes. An itch to stomp on the creature stabbed at him, but he couldn't do that to his darling Elizabeth. The rabbit had proven to be an acceptable addition to their family, if only for the fact that it made his daughter and youngest son happy, so he'd stomach its antics until his daughter would get bored and stop looking after it, as all children did with their toys.

Just as the girl was passing him, he reached out to grab her hand, stopping the girl in her track. She smiled that lovely smile of hers as she turned to look at him, which he returned happily.

"Did you see how fast Snuggles is, daddy?"

"He is quite agile, yes, but how about you take a break? You've been chasing him for almost an hour."

"I'm not tired though. It's just so fun I want to keep going!"

"And you will, but I want to talk with you for a moment. Could you indulge me, please? It won't take long."

"Of course!" she chirped. "What is it?"

"It's about your brother, Michael. If you see him acting crasser than usual don't mention it to your mother. You have my word that he won't bother you so long as you leave him alone."

"Is Mikey in one of his moods again?"

"Ah, no, this time's different, and because of that I want you to be pretend like it isn't happening. Think of it like a surprise, you can't let anyone know about it."

"I see! I love playing pretend! I'm gonna do a great job, daddy. I promise I won't let you down!" this was why Elizabeth was his favorite and why she deserved to be spoiled rotten. She always got what she wanted but in return she listened and almost never disobeyed. William couldn't be prouder of the girl and he liked the fact that she could persuade him into doing things for her he otherwise wouldn't entertain the thought of, such as buying her a pet. It made Elizabeth more like him, and that was positively wonderful. He wouldn't trade their bond for the world.

"I know you won't." he brought his daughter in close to kiss her forehead, earning an endearing giggle and a hug from her. "Off you go now. Be sure not to slip, honey."

"Kay, father!" he watched her go fondly before setting his drink down.

Now to take care of the brat. William had needed the moral support from his daughter in order to not twist his son's neck.

He made his way up the stairs, wood creaking as he approached his eldest's room. The door was partially opened, allowing Afton to see the brat sitting on his bed, drawing. Without warning, the man opened the door completely, startling his son.

"Jesus Christ!" Michael jumped in his bed, shoving his sketchbook underneath him. "Would it kill for you to knock, father?"

"It would. Close your door if you don't want people barging in." his oldest bit back a retort, glaring at William instead. He paid it not attention. "Henry will be coming over soon for dinner. I want you to behave yourself, am I understood?" the man made sure the order did not fall on deaf ears, raising his voice the right amount for his son to flinch. Recognition flashed behind the boy's face at hearing that tone, reminding him of a certain bad time he had had at one point due to not listening.

"…Yes, father." Afton nodded, pleased with the answer. He let a few second pass before pointing to the sketchbook beneath his son's leg.

"What were you drawing?"

"Nothing." Michael mumbled.

"It didn't look like nothing. Show me." The boy clenched his teeth behind his lips, but ultimately gave in and opened the book to his last drawing, knowing refusing his father was a stupid move. William made no sound as he scanned his son's work. It was a rough sketch of some anthropomorphic animal that resembled a wolf, or maybe a fox? It was hard to tell what it was when the only details to suggest its species were the pointed ears, tail and a long snout. "What is this?" the man inquired, not planning to offer his opinion much to his son's dismay, though perhaps that was for the best, in Mike's mind.

"…He's a fox that's supposed to be a pirate. His name's Foxy."

Ha.

"A bit uninspired, don't you think?" Michael frowned at his father, although not facing him directly.

"I think it fits him." he all but spat. "Why do you care?" the boy was met with a raised brow.

"Is there something saying I can't, Michael?"

"You never did before. Every day you say how this is a waste of time and that it won't get me anywhere so why are you interested all of a sudden?!"

The man chose not to respond immediately, regarding his son with squinted eyes. Michael squirmed under his father's gaze, reconsidering his opinion, like the good boy he seldom faked to be to appease William. He shrugged after a while, switching the subject.

"Keep at it, Mike." the boy's eyes widened, salty mood abandoned in an instant. "If it turns out decent, we might include it in the restaurant as a side mascot."

"H- huh?!" his dad's approval took the eleven-year-old off guard. "But… don't you have Springbonnie and Fredbear already to worry about?"

"We could always make room for another one, and I hear pirates are all the craze these days for boys like you." it hadn't taken much to make his son's mouth hit the floor. A pity, really. William would've enjoyed more of a challenge.

"So…" the utter reluctance in his son's voice amused Afton a great deal. How the boy dared not hope… It was so funny it almost made the man chuckle. "Does that mean you like it?" and just like that the front wall had been broken. It was so easy William had to resist rolling his eyes.

"For a sketch it's interesting, but I'm more curious to see what the end product will be. Do you think you can do it, Mike?" he was too stunned to speak for about five seconds, but then nodded eagerly.

"I uh, y- yeah. I can do it, da- father!" William smiled proudly.

"That's my boy." he put his hands in his pockets, turning around. Just before leaving the room, he stopped, sparring Michael a last glance. "Oh, I almost forgot. Do me a favor and help your brother out. The kids at kindergarten are picking on him." he elaborated before the boy could refuse. "Try and get him to come out of his shell."

You're a lost cause if you believe such a flimsy excuse, Michael.

"Rough him up a little- I don't care, you can do whatever you want so long as you get him to stop being such a crybaby."

That would never work on someone as frail as Evan.

"I can do…" Michael trailed off, having difficulty grasping what he'd been allowed to do. This time William's smile revealed his teeth.

"Whatever you like." Afton emphasized.

"I, o- okay, but… Why me? Shouldn't you or mother be the ones to"

"-Indeed, but as I'm sure you've seen your mother would rather have Evan remain six forever so she can coddle him nonstop, Elizabeth is too young to help, and I am the reason Evan ran away in the first place. Even with me being his father I'm the last person he'd listen to, so that's why I'm counting on you to be a good older brother and get him to man up, so to speak. I know you're not overly fond of him, but I'm putting a lot of my faith in you. You wouldn't want to disappoint me, Mike, would you?"

"Uh, n- no, father."

It's hard to think I've helped raise this idiot, but at least he has some uses. If Evan wants to play the victim, then who I am to say no.

"Have fun then." and with that William had left his eldest's room, closing the door behind him.

Poor, weak little Mike. So craved for attention he'd lick anyone's boots, William thought. That was the only thing his oldest son was capable of, being a tool, but one William would use to shape his other two, more valuable children into the best versions of themselves.

The man laughed as the shadows of the unlit hallway seemed to slither around him, embracing him in their flowing darkness. This small space remote from civilization was William Afton's personal playground, and he had just gotten some brand new toys.

He owned them. All of them were his and his alone to be used as he deemed necessary. They should be grateful really…

They did not understand their own worth, and how it only existed if they were with him.

He'd get them to understand, sooner or later, that they'd be eaten by worms if not for him. William was nothing if not patient...

Elizabeth was telling her younger brother about a girl that was into animals from her school while the rest of the children were silent, content to hear what he and Henry were exchanging about their restaurant. Laura was much of the same.

"So, how's it looking with the investors, Will?"

"They're onboard for the most part, but some are asking for a demonstration. When's the earliest you can get Fredbear and Springbonnie up and running?"

"The programming's done, all I really need is for the voice actors to finish their lines so I can put them into the systems."

"Wait, so, how will they speak? Is it just gonna be prerecorded lines or will they be able to synthesize sentences, kinda like text to speech?" asked Matthew, interested in their chat. William smiled at his inquiry, it was refreshing to see a child be curious about things other than garbage TV shows, toys, comic books and pointless doodads that was the current entertainment aimed at kids his age. And to know what text to speech was and understand it at seven? Why couldn't his children be more like this boy?

"That's a good analogy, but this is more like sound to speech." Henry answered before he could. "Fred and Bonnie will analyze the voice lines and use them as reference points to create whatever we want them to say. A voice synthesizer would be messy because it wouldn't be able to one hundred percent replicate the original voice since it would just recombine old data to form new words, and that would turn out pretty robotic, without any real emotions, but what we have for those two is gonna make them sound like an actual person."

"Wow, that's actually really smart. How does it work?"

"I think you're a little too young to"

"-The syllables are run through an algorithm that analyzes them and copies the way they sound, then the program reads text we input and speaks it. This way we can have Spring and Fred say anything we wish without having to pay for extra lines. The only difficulty will be to write the scripts." William explained.

"That's so cool, daddy!"

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

"Huh. And this way you can basically never have the same performance `cause all you gotta do is come up with new material… But isn't that ripping off on the voice actors, if you're using their voices to say things they didn't?"

"Fortunately, their contracts included those aspects and they've already been signed. It's amazing what people can do for some quick cash. And sad, really, that they can't sue us, but they are to blame for that." Henry snickered nervously. "Remember to read everything before you put your signature on a paper." the boy hummed.

"Eheh, so that's pretty much it for the voices." Henry cut in, redirecting the topic of the conversation back towards William. "Any news from that merchandize company you said you found?"

"They've sent over some designs they've come up with and they are promising, if a tad incorrect in the colors they've picked, but I asked for a few samples just in case."

"Let's hope these ones will be good. We almost shook hands with those other guys and that could've ended…" Henry tilted his head to the side, lips in a line.

"Oh, don't remind me. I swear, those fu- cretins will never make a dollar without my consent after what they tried to pull." Laura kicked him under the table for cursing, making William grunt. "Sorry, dear." he muttered. "But anyhow, what they've shown me seems to be above average at worst so I can forgive a few inaccuracies in the designs."

"If people don't know what to look for, they won't notice." Henry's child looked like he wanted to add something.

"What's on your mind, Matthew?" pried William, genuinely keen to hear him out.

"Um, is there like… any lore behind Fred and Bonnie?"

"I'm sorry, lore?"

"Yeah, uh, their backstory. How did they decide to start their careers as entertainers? Or is that not a thing yet?" William had to pause to recall what he and Henry had come up with. The man rubbed his chin in thought.

"…I believe the initial draft was that they were underappreciated performers that happened to be best friends who decided to start their own restaurant so they could have the freedom to make children happy which had always been their dream."

"Oh, so it's like you and Henry." his business partner almost choked on his food. "Well, if I might add to that, I think Fredbear's actual name should be like uh, Ferdinand Von Bernard, but everyone should call him Fredbear `cause it's shorter."

"What?" exclaimed Charlotte, who had been listening in for a while without saying a word.

"Yeah, and Springbonnie should have this story where he got stuck in a washing machine."

"That's too silly to be put in the show, Matt. And Springbonnie's too big to fit in a washing machine." Matthew just waved it off.

"Doesn't matter, it'd be like the perfect story to teach kids about friendship."

"How would that teach anyone about friendship?" that one had been Elizabeth.

"Freddy'd be the one to get Bonnie out of it, you know. Think about it. It'd make for the best-…" the boy's proposals evolved into a playful argument with the two girls. Evan, firmly inspecting the dining room, didn't participate in it, and neither did his brother. Afton took the opening to scrutinize his eldest, forcing Mike to lock eyes with him.

Slowly, William's grin dragged out, and Michael pressed back into his chair when he saw the towering figure that was standing behind his father, its essence dripping in flames off of his dad's suit, merging purple with darkness.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Evan looking in the same direction.


Evan: is a precious bean
William: unacceptable

So imagine my surprise when I copy and paste my chapters in here from AO3 only to find out the spacing and Italics aren't right because apparently if you want the doc manager to remember them you need to upload the documents, documents that are outdated as whatever typos and other errors I've made were fixed in AO3 on the site, not on my computer. I'm sorry if you've been inconvenienced by the lack of Italics and proper spacing at certain points, I assure you they are meant to be there. This fic will be subjected to some major editing, I'll have to copy everything from AO3 into my docs and then upload those docs here. It's might take a while but I'm hoping I can get it done in one day, two at most. It'll take some time to get used to this site's formatting but what can ya do?

Anyway, enough of my ranting, this was originally meant to be only about 8k words but somehow got to 12k. It's getting easier to write longer chapters ^_^, even if it takes a little bit more time. I really hope this was worth the (short) wait though!
I'll see you guys next week👋, and till then I wish you all a nice day!

Chapter title from "Revision" by Scranton Music Official.