Author's Notes: This story does have Acts like Ghost Strings did. I'm not sure the chapter count, but I do plan to have 3 Acts. It just keeps me more organized with plot and usually results in more fic for you to enjoy!
"Silence lay heavily upon the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone." –The Haunting of Hill House
ACT I
Chapter 2. Nothing Remains
After Henry left, Mike realized he hadn't seen another car.
"Musta parked round the back. There's a lotta space there. And don't you always say bosses park in the back?" Bonnie shrugged in disinterest when Mike voiced his realization.
"Yeah, I guess." Mike rubbed the back of his neck tiredly, scratching absently as he watched Bonnie's ears swivel and flick. "How's it coming?"
"Place is big, dude. Bigger than ours, in terms of square footage. It's gunna take me a while, even longer than Circus Baby's underground horror show. I found the new Parts and Services, but it's got another smaller room that leads to the back." Bonnie hesitated, fiddling with his guitar as he wandered toward the kitchen doors, but then turned as if hearing something of great interest coming from the left side of the hall. His inner workings were loud, and his fans were close to chugging.
"Well…when you find the office, lemme know." Mike paused as Bonnie's ears turned toward the grumbling sound between them. "I'm, uh, I'm gunna go see how Chica's doing..."
Bonnie caught on immediately, and rolled his pink optics in amusement. "Don't eat them out of house and home, Mike. You're gunna get us kicked out."
"Rabbit's gotta point, lad." Foxy snickered from where he was flopped on the stage contently. The second Mike had cleared them from Henry or any watchful cameras; the fox had hopped onto the stage, displaying such an act of sheer pettiness that it made Mike snort in laughter.
And because he was a mature, seasoned night guard of Freddy's, Mike blew raspberries at them both, and trotted into the kitchen. The familiar sound of pots and pans rustling eased some of his anxiety, as did spotting Chica and Freddy in the long ways, gleaming and stainless steel kitchen.
"Wow, Chica, look at this place!" Mike grinned as Chica turned, her optics alight with joy.
"Isn't it just the cutest?" She gushed. "Everything's so shiny and all the appliances are just! Oh, and look at the size of the ovens, Mikey, and the tile! And the walk-ins, it's marvelous in here!"
"Any chance I could put in an order?" Mike hedged, spotting Freddy's amused glance in his direction. "What? Hey, we gotta see if this place can run as a restaurant, don't we? I'm just testing out the food. That's important to kids."
Between all three of them, Mike's stomach made another grumble of hunger, and his look shifted to sheepish innocence, going for cute. It usually worked on Freddy, so long as he did it.
"Sure, chickadee, your usual?" Chica said, more than willing it seemed to feed their night guard. For her, maybe, it was some semblance of normalcy they were craving to feel again.
"Yes please!"
"Alright, that's an order of mozzarella sticks, French fries, and nachos with everything on it times two." Chica listed off as she turned toward the pantry and fridges.
"Boy's a walking bottomless pit." Freddy grunted in remark as he moved to help her.
"Hey back off, big guy, I'm eating for two." Mike pouted.
"Uh-huh."
With nothing left to do but wait for both Bonnie and food, Mike wandered back into the Dining hall. He found himself beside the Security Puppet's box before he realized it.
"Guess I should get you cleaned up first, SP." Mike shrugged as he removed the lid and reached in. "See just how bad the damage is…"
So Mike went to work.
He was only vaguely aware of his coworkers, his family, moving around him as he settled into his job. With the exception of a now dozing Foxy, who didn't seem interested in teaming up with Bonnie for once and exploring, the others stayed relatively chipper and active. Mike's knee bobbed as he worked, alternating between muttering to himself and humming the theme of My Grandfather's Clock. He jabbed a screwdriver into the back casing of the Security Puppet's small black and stripped spine and jimmied the casing off, wincing at the sparks that followed.
"Son?" Came a grunt of warning, and the floor behind Mike quivered as Fazbear advanced, but Mike waved the big bear off, assuring him to relax.
"That was me, sorry. We're good. She's…she's pretty out of it." Not a great sign, to be truthful. But it also meant she wasn't playing dead and was lying in wait to attack him either, as Freddy's actions had suggested.
Chica came and delivered his food, which he dug into as he pulled the mess of wires from SP and made a mental list of parts he would need to replace. The food was usual Freddy's Pizzeria fare, not fast food but not exactly gourmet, but Chica was good at what she did and, arguably, Mike was biased. Plus, he was hungry. Food always tasted better when you were hungry, which Mike had learned fast when he realized Gold had jumped started his metabolism in order to exist together as Suit and Endoskeleton.
Bonnie wandered more than the other three due to his mapping system, but Mike could hear the twangs of the guitar the bunny refused to put down since they loaded into the van. To his left and up on the stage, Foxy rolled and stretched out, his exposed metal scraping the new wood softly, then settled back down with a huge, content sigh that made Mike chuckle. He heard a broom rustling along the floor, which meant good 'ole Freddy had found the supply closet. Through the double doors of the kitchen, there were dishes and pots and pans clink-clanging mutedly.
It was so familiar to their own restaurant that if Mike thought about it too hard, his chest ached, tight with that nest of snakes from before. The only thing missing was…
'I miss you, Mari. I know I think this every time I talk to you, but I'm sorry I couldn't protect you like you protected me.'
There was no answer, because there never was.
With a shake of his head and a tired sigh, Schmidt turned his full attention back onto the little pile of Security Puppet spread out on the table before him.
"This won't change anything…" He muttered, "But I need to try for you, SP. I'm the night guard, after all. I gotta look out for all of you."
Haunted or not.
The hours ticked by, night deepening into its darkest hour. Some called it the Witching Hour. Mike Schmidt called it coffee hour.
Thanks to Golden Freddy, Mike needed much less sleep than the average human. Of course, there were some caveats, like his calorie intake shooting up, or his now instinctual aversion to being submerged in water. (Showers were alright, but Gold still got nervous around large bodies of water.) And Mike still needed some sleep; it was just usually deeper and shorter than what was to be expected, even if Mike wasn't nursing an injury Gold had to fix.
He wasn't sure how Springtrap and Afton did it, because they were two entities stapled together and seemed to be running both consciousnesses at the same time, and he wasn't sure if they slept at all—although he was sure they did. It had to be…stressful.
"Fuck that fucker." Mike muttered softly as he fiddled in the back of the open Security Puppet. He wasn't immediately cuffed like a naughty cub or old to dig his wallet out, so Freddy must be back in the supply closet.
"…I hope Springtrap's doing alright…"
And, more to the point, Henry knew something, of that Mike was sure. How much snooping could Mike do while staying under Henry's radar and doing his task list?
"Maybe he's trying to lure Afton here…he knew what went on last month, after all." Despite his low voice, Bonnie heard him across the hall.
"Wonder how he knew all that?" Bonnie piped up in agreement. "You deactivated all the cameras so Baby and HandyUnit couldn't find you."
"Good point. I had forgotten that."
"Maybe he don't need cameras to see. Ya don't either, lad." Was Foxy's two cents, where he was laying contently on the stage, head resting on his cross arms and optics closed. Mike was sure Foxy was very much aware, even as he pretended to be taking a nap. Honestly, that was probably why Faz had wandered off from Mike so quickly, despite being in a new place and him working on a potentially haunted and dangerous little animatronic. Freddy loved Bonnie as all best friends did, but Foxy tended to be faster on his feet these days, worn suit aside.
"That too. But he didn't seem like a Suit." Mike mused. "Although, I guess I'm having a hard time trusting my instincts lately, especially after what happened to Circus Baby."
"She conned ya lad, it happens to all of us eventually." Foxy said. "Ye should stop beating yerself up'bout it."
Mike was silent in reply, which was rarely good coming from the talkative young man. He stared into SP's blank optics that lay behind her little plastic mask and wondered what color they were when she was functioning. He still had the blue finder cuff on his wrist behind his watch because he planned to use it to test her out when—or if—he managed to get her online at all. None of the Fazes so much as blinked at him almost obsessively beginning to labor over the rusted and frozen puppet model. They knew better, and they weren't keen on kicking Mike when he was down.
But they also knew—and Mike did as well—that the odds of the little puppet being haunted were closing down on slim to none. Rust didn't stop ghosts, as seen by Springtrap and Afton. Or at least, it was rare for it to.
"Hey, Mike. Found yer office." Bonnie paused, as if hesitant, before shrugging. "And…I, uh, I don't think you're gunna like it much."
"Remember my first one?" Mike thought back to the cramped little room with a faint grin. He stood up, reverently setting Security Puppet onto her side. "It can't be as bad as that."
"Never say never, lad." Foxy chuckled darkly as he watched the man walk after the bunny down a hall.
'You hear that, man?' He wheezed softly, the noise nearly inaudible. And even if it weren't, no one else was around to hear them. Not this deep in the overgrown woods, not this late at night. A bitter wind shivered through, causing them to creak and their inner parts to whistle faintly. They rocked slowly, both tired and weary from running a frame in dire need of tlc. He'd worry about repairs later, what little he could do to his friend, anyway. Besides, it was his friend that needed the repairs. He was kind of…stuck as he was. Embalming fluid and all.
A guttural nod answered him.
'I know. It's driving me crazy.' A pause, as yellow, rotted feet shuffled in uncertainly toward the little building. They hung back in unease, hidden among the shrub and junk trees. At night, they blended in perfectly.
After a moment, the figure lurched forward with a firm snarl of decision.
The other voice, however, yelped in fright and tried to halt them, causing the single frame to wobble and jerk as it played tug of war with itself. The sight was strange to see indeed.
'Dude—wait! I mean—" A tired sigh. "Alright…but…keep your ears up. We're not going in there yet, either. Something's…off.'
"Rowwl," gurgled the other one, with another grumble of heavy assertion and a roll of its optics. His speakers had clogged long ago; only one of them could talk anymore, which was fine. The two understood each other perfectly, even if they had to separate to get a job done.
'Yeah, you're right. If this is playing constantly, I bet Dad hears it too.' The voice which had been young but flat before, but now darkened in anxiety and anger.
'We can get him this time. I'm sure of it. This time, no one's getting in our way.'
With a growl of agreement, the zombified animatronic wrenched itself forward on unstable feet.
It was hard walking with two bodies in it, but this was the quickest way they could travel, and so for now, it would have to do. He and his best friend were always close, after all. But dad had just decided to take it a step farther. Make things a little more permanent.
Whether Michael had agreed to this or not.
Mike walked into his new office. He turned in a slow circle. He stared. He sighed. And then he addressed the bunny on his heels.
"Funny, Bonnie. Where's the rest of it?"
"This IS the rest of it, Mikey." Bonnie's ears ducked down to wedge himself better into the room—even then, the most he could do was lean his upper half into it. Freddy and Chica wouldn't have fit in at all. Foxy might, if he stuck down on all fours and didn't move, but if he did move too much he'd likely sweep Mike's chair out from under him.
"You're kidding." Mike deadpanned.
"Sure ain't."
"This is it? This can't be my office here—I mean—" Mike spluttered, ignoring Bon's snickers. "I'd get mad but I'm not sure I can fit another emotion in here!"
It was…small was an understatement. A better descriptor would be cramped, suffocating, or perhaps chillingly gloomy. A single over head was all the room could fit, and apparently all Henry deemed necessary for a security office. To Mike's left and right was two gaping, rusted openings. Mike was tall and gangly, and the room was so narrow that if he stretched his fingertips out at full arms length, he could just touch the opposite vent openings.
"Where do those go?" He demanded, eyeing the dark squares with a wary eye.
"They connect the other rooms. That left one goes to a supply room, I think Fred found that already. The right one goes to the second smaller Arcade room on the other side of the building."
"So if you guys are in the dining hall, you can't reach me through either of these?"
"Naw. Well, maybe Foxy could, I've seen him cram himself in some pretty tight spaces but…" The bunny trailed off meaningfully, and Mike nodded.
"I get you, Bon. He's had enough damage, I don't need him taking off a chunk of shoulder in there, or worse, getting stuck. "Mike glanced over his shoulder, frowning at the bunny. "This is…weird."
"Pretty odd, yeah. Whoever built this had something in mind for the night guards, don'tcha think?" Bonnie watched Mike pick up the folded note from Henry that had their night guard's name on it.
Mike's grim glance and nod was all he offered the bunny.
"Old pc, too." Well, not as old as what he used to contend with, so he tried to save his last remaining dregs of optimism and booted the old dinosaur up. The PC sat on a cramped desk, with only room for the monitor and maybe a cup of soda, if Mike was feeling risky. The damn keyboard was even shoved on a tray under the desk.
"Who's the white square? Am I the white square?" He studied the map further, blinking at the many buttons and switches.
The night guard's finger hovered over a key, and he glanced outside to where Bonnie was lazily tuning his guitar, and eyed the bunny's relatively lax and slumped over ears.
Mike smacked the Enter key.
The result was instantaneous; the purple bunny grumbled and twisted his head and ears all at once toward some far off noise, one that Mike couldn't hear, not even with Gold's boost.
But Bonnie wasn't a dumb bunny, and Mike watched in fascination as the bunny's previous look of excitement dimmed and he shifted, clutching his guitar in tight paws. Bonnie blinked several times, and you could practically hear his processor turning as he then rounded instantly on Mike.
"Did you do that?" He asked.
Mike nodded. "What did it sound like?"
"Like…a party." Bonnie's tone turned wistful before he shook off his gloom. "A really, really convincing awesome party. Full of lots of excited kids."
That kicked a neuron in gear. Mike remembered Marion's tales of the second restaurant, the one with the Toy models that came after the diner in the late 80's.
"It's to lead you guys from room to room, isn't it?" Not unlike how Mike once had to lead Springtrap from room to room in his old amusement attraction. Interesting.
"Not us." Bonnie snorted. "We're too smart to fall for that nonsense. We got you, remember?"
Mike smiled at the compliment from the bratty bunny. "Well, it's to fool someone like you guys, then. Someone like the Toy models. Someone not smart enough to second guess the sound clip."
"Question is…who?" Bonnie asked, but Mike had no answer. "I've got a map of the whole hopping place, dude. It's just you, us and SP. No one's even outside in the back alley, Mike."
The night guard had almost nothing in the way of answers, and it was starting to annoy him. He went back to the monitor, trying to familiarize himself with the tabs and their subsequent pages.
"Tasks….Motion D….Audio…and Vent." Mike's heart sank. "Great. I gotta order supplies, check advertising…"
"Don't forget maintenance and equipment." Bonnie shrugged. "So? You used to do all that back when we were running."
"Yeah, back when I wasn't being hunted for sport because Afton's nephew had uncle-issues." Mike's shoulders sank.
"…oh yeah, that's right. The Marionette showed you how to do everything, didn't he? You didn't get on the job training from Afton's nephew…well, except the whole, 'tried to shove your scrawny butt in a suit' business." And when Marion wasn't helping Mike, he was protecting the frightened kid. Bonnie knew that Mike technically had more in the way of defense—the original four and even Golden Freddy himself—but that still didn't mean Mike wasn't hurting from the similarities of this place compared to his first five nights back at the Pizzeria.
But not everything could be replicated. The real stuff, the best parts of life, maybe weren't supposed to be.
"Yeah, I did." Mike's little cloud of self-doubt and worry was shoved out of mind when there was a small scuffle from under the cramped desk.
Mike yipped in fright, and so did Bonnie, and both watched with tense postures as a fat, round little animatronic waddled himself out into the light. The little guy was wholly silent, save for his small processors that whirred softly, like someone humming under their breath. He was small; maybe the same height as Plushtrap had been, coming up to just under Mike's knee. New, shiny plastic aqua eyes clicked up to Mike's face, and the tiny bear jumped in place happily, a smile spreading on its little face as if in immediate recognition.
"What the fudgesticks is that?" Bonnie demanded in instant dislike, as Mike blinked and knelt down with slow movements, hoping to convince the little Funtime Freddy model to come closer.
He didn't have to wait long, because the mini-Freddy hurried over into his space without a trace of fear, patting the man's bent knee with a little plastic paw several times, still smiling happily. Despite himself, Mike returned the warm smile as he eyed the little guy.
"You gotta name, buddy?" Mike asked in amusement, instantly relieved for another distraction from this ever-worrying nightmare of a situation. "Henry didn't say anything about you…"
The bear tapped a stubby paw to his pastel pink cheek, seeming to ponder something over before he turned and helped himself up into the rolly chair. Because he was just as tall as the low seat, it took some doing, but soon he was leaning over the keyboard tray. Mike rose with him, watching with interest as the little bot pointed to the lettered keys.
"Can you type your name?" They seemed to be on the same page, thankfully. The little bear already had more together than HandyUnit it seemed, which frankly was a relief for Mike.
H… E… L… P...Y. typed the bear.
"…Helpy?" Mike's grin widened. "Ohh…I get it. Okay, Helpy, welcome to the team, you adorable little shit."
"You just like him because he's a Freddy model." Bonnie scoffed, but his optics stayed trained on the small funtime model with interest. "He doesn't talk. How's that helpful?"
"No, but he does seem pretty sophisticated as far as AI's go…I mean, he must have been programmed to recognize me, right? He's not hostile either." Mike snorted when Helpy tried getting off the rolly chair and landed flat on his back with a sharp crack, and the man jumped at the horrifying sound. "Crap—you okay!?"
Helpy sat up a moment later, shook himself and stood, only to immediately wander around Bonnie's legs and out into the hall, apparently unconcerned about his fall.
"Guess that's a yes." Bonnie cackled, backing up out of Mike's way as the night guard shadowed the little bear easily with his long legs, who was bee-lining for the little play area for younger kids.
"Uh, Helpy…?" Mike called.
"Check that list Henry left you, maybe there's something in there about him."
"Good idea, Bon." Mike dug the paper out, unfolding it while he kept an eye on the little white and purple bear that was making his way to the carpeted area, stopping to stare at the retro confetti illustrated on the floor of the play section.
'Mike,
How do you like your office? I know it is smaller than what you were likely anticipating, but I assure you it's up to code, and that I had my reasons for the layout of this building, which I'm sure you understand. Someone who survived past the first five nights at Freddy's has likely seen worse than anything my humble establishment has to offer. Perhaps this will be like a vacation for you!
However, your job isn't over yet. There is a list of tasks on the computer in your office. I have organized them by repetition—some you have to do every night you choose to work here. Some are only once.
Please also test out the play area and the arcade machines, do any repairs they require and keep them in prime shape for our Grand Opening. Please ensure Candy Cadet does not(Not was underlined twice, so clearly this was a problem with poor Candy Cadet.) give away too much candy on his test runs.
Do not worry about funds for the jobs listed on your computer either, as they come out of petty cash. I will have another VERY important job for you to do each morning at the end of your shift that is for you and you alone. It will be a chance for you to make some more money, and for me to grow my restaurant. We will discuss this when, that is, IF, the opportunity arises, but I have a feeling it will very soon. ("Cryptic." Bonnie said wryly.)
I will have more notes for you in the coming days, as well as more instructions. Thank you for your time, I know this will be an interesting time for us both, and that we will learn a lot about each other.'
-Henry
Mike blinked, trailing off before reading the last words a second time.
'P.S: Please take care of Helpy. No matter your problems, big or small, he will help you solve them.'
"Uh...it says I have to test the play area. But I think I'm too tall…"
"And the arcade games~" said Bonnie, having read the note over Mike's shoulder. "I call those, me and Foxy haven't played air hockey since ours lit on fire!"
"And I think Helpy's testing the play area, look."
Indeed, the fat little bear-bot had made his way up the ladder of the toddler sized jungle-gym and was leaping down the slide. He flew behind first into the ball pit, most of which sprayed across the floor and rolled merrily in great bids for freedom at the sudden force of his entry. Mike, Bonnie and now a curious Foxy watched the brightly colored balls scatter across the floor, and kept staring when Helpy's second jump sent even more balls flying.
"…okay. First project; get a net wall for the ball pit." Mike drawled tiredly as he watched Helpy hurry up the steps for a third slide.
There was another spray of plastic balls from the pit.
Bonnie and Foxy cackled.
Despite Henry's friendly worded letter and oddly mysterious words of advice, Helpy soon proved to be more nuisance than outwardly helpful. His namesake implied nothing more than small, tiny terror, as he proceeded to spend the rest of the night and into the early am toddling around, poking his plastic nose into anything and everything he decided looked interesting enough. And, apparently to little Helpy, everything was interesting enough.
The ballpit made sense. It was fun, and Helpy seemed attracted to all things both interesting and fun. He spent most of his time wandering around fiddling with the younger kid's games. Mike was glad he was too short to reach the taller arcade games, most of which looked so shiny and new he was afraid Helpy would break them instead of finding any minor tweaks they needed. He made a mental note to have Foxy and Bonnie check out some of the arcade games tomorrow night, and perhaps a few for himself. Helpy had somehow found his way into the kitchen, where he spooked poor Chica and tried to crawl into the open ovens she was cleaning. Bonnie complained when Mike snatched Helpy out, but only received an amused glower from Mike for his troubles.
Mike heard the low growling start up and years of well-trained instincts made him freeze in his tracks. Only for him to realize what and who it was and he turned, launching his thin body at the stage and grabbing Helpy bodily around his rotund midsection as deadly long jaws snapped down where the tiny bearbot had been, still cluelessly holding a healthy fistful of poor Foxy's ragged, stringy tail. Said tail switched in displeasure as Foxy eyed Helpy and then, with a more flatter, bothered stare, up at their night guard.
"Sorry Foxy." Mike apologized sheepishly, hoping to buttered the grumpy old fox up. "I'll keep a better eye on him, honest."
"He be more trouble than he's worth, lad." Foxy advised, snorting as he watched Helpy wiggle, his optics on something across the long hall, tiny paw releasing the strands of tail he had been tugging happily on only seconds ago. Foxy's dangerous and deadly maw nearly beheading him (or at least causing some good dents) seemed of no concern to oblivious Helpy.
"Ain't programmed right, is what it is. What use is a captain-knockoff who can't use his processor for some blasted common sense, eh? S'dumber than a jellyfish."
On the one hand, Mike had to agree. But on the other, he had a feeling he knew what this was really about.
"I'm tired too, buddy, but it's only our first night." Mike kept his tone calm but let his exhaustion show, and it worked. Foxy softened and shook himself out like a dog, less attack-mode and more resigned suddenly, mirroring Mike's emotions. His family loved him, and many things had changed overnight on them all—but not that comforting, assured fact.
Mike set the little bear down.
"And we've fixed a lot of problems or issues thanks to Helpy getting into stuff he shouldn't. I guess that was Henry's plan all along…it's not like he's young enough to chase after him…"
"You yourself barely are, son!" Freddy responded.
Foxy pitched a snort over his shoulder, as he had risen and wandered across the stage while Mike spoke, but the old Captain was listening. He always was. Choosing a new spot that would let him see if Helpy was coming at him again to pester and tug and bother him, Foxy settled on his side with a careless flop, ragged ears twitching upward in interest as he spied something over Mike's shoulder.
"Looks like he found yer new little project, Mikey. M'sure his clumsy efforts will certainly help you get the little lass up and runnin'." Foxy seemed all too pleased to tattle on Helpy, and Mike blinked in confusion and surprise. He twisted in place with a quirked brow, jumping in horror when he saw Helpy rooting around little Security Puppet's exposed spine, her delicate workings sparking and jolting as he did this.
"Wha—hey! Hey, cut that out! F-Freddy!" Mike shouted, earning the attention of Bonnie from over by the ball pit, as well as Freddy, who stalked toward the table with speed betraying his large girth because he was always, always, there for Mike when the guy called for him.
"Stop that." Freddy growled immediately at Helpy, grabbing the plastic bear by his small scruff in a giant worn paw and lifting him up and away from the mess he was causing.
Helpy only smiled, swinging his tiny arms and legs as he swung breezily in Fazbear's tight grip. Freddy frowned at this obliviousness and gave the little thing a good jostle for emphasis, stopping when Helpy seemed to understand he was in trouble and his shiny, sweet-natured features turned unsure and uncomfortable, and he froze in place obediently.
Mike, who had leapt off the stage and trotted over while forcing himself to stay calm, grabbed hold of Security Puppet and shifted her off her side, keeping her carefully face down as he checked and rechecked.
"He do any damage?" Freddy glanced at the rusted, creaking jumble of puppet parts. "Wull…any…more, damage?"
"…no, don't think so." Mike's lips puckered in thought, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "He just—I think he connected some parts. Why? That doesn't make sense, it's not like she's going to just—"
Beneath his hands, Security Puppet's arm twitched. Then it jerked. She leaned herself across the table, sparks flying for a few seconds. She went from dead-still to motion so sharply Mike jumped a mile, right against Freddy who moved to block him from whatever had startled the night guard, only for Freddy and Mike to realize what was happening, that SP was alive, she was moving. Maybe not well, and that added nothing to her charm, certainly. But she was back online, just like that.
The Puppet, Mike thought, had always moved like water, or draped silk. His wooden joints seemed fluid and free, only his chilly porcelain face was frozen—his carved smile stayed solid and gaping-wide whether he was happy, or sad or angry. The eye holes in the mask were able to move stiffly, crinkling or widening in minor adjustments that Mike only noticed because he was often so close to the lurking, protective Puppet. He was so very Lifelike, haunted or not, that Mike was shocked to watch the robotic, scattered movements of the onlined Security Puppet. Was it because of the damage to her joints?
Or was it because she was normal, and decidedly not haunted? Had Marion moved like this before he tied himself down to the Crying Child?
And why did that thought hurt Mike as much as watching this small puppet ineptly scramble from him in abject terror?
"Holy gumdrops!" Bonnie, who had wandered over in hopes of watching Helpy get in trouble, spooked not unlike a rabbit when he noticed Security Puppet's jerky, creepy motions across the table away from their equally startled night guard. His long ears shot upright as he retreated right back—Security Puppet was moving, zombie-like, in his direction now. Until Bonnie yelped, only then did her small head rise, and she twitched as if in fright, or as if hit, and immediately altered directions. Her butter-yellow optics flickered erratically, and she spied her box and crawled for it, desperately.
"Wait—Wait, SP," but Mike was ignored, the slender animatronic crammed herself into her box with a tiny, miserable jingle. Her arm jerked out to grab the lid and slap her little box shut atop her little self imposed prison.
Silence reigned.
"…well. That went…well." Bonnie finally managed.
Freddy shot the bunny a look, and all of them—even clueless Helpy, glanced at Mike who was standing there with a strange look on his face.
"…son?" Freddy broached delicately, hoping to break the spell of Mike's helpless, heartbroken stare at the closed off, silent gift box. Mike twitched once, twice, then shook his head. He drew back from Freddy's comfort as if he didn't deserve it, and his entire frame seemed to deflate.
"…uhm, I'm gunna go…gunna get some coffee from Chica."
Mike walked to the kitchen. He was too proud to run.
"What did he expect, Faz?" Bonnie, to his credit, kept his voice down as Mike slunk through the doors and out of earshot. "It's obvious SP's not…yanno, like us."
"Still could be a chance, Bon." The old bear reminded softly. "I can't believe I'm almost hoping for that, because it'll mean she was a kid once too, and that'll mean she was…"
The pregnant pause answered them enough. From across the stage, Foxy lifted his head in interest.
"Don't sense nuthin', Cap'n." Foxy informed before Freddy could ask. "I can ask Alex next time I see him, but his visits are far and few between these nights…ain't much need for him anymore."
Which was good. Mike liked Nightmare Foxy a lot, and whether he knew or not that Nightmare Foxy was actually Alex Afton was up for debate. If he did, he might try to help the kid to the other side, but Foxy knew Alex would have none of it. Alex's punishment was here on Earth, and even though Foxy himself adored the lad a great deal due to their time together, he agreed. The Nightmares needed to be contained anyway, lest they go searching for a new Crying Child to torment—or worse, try causing trouble for Mike.
"Foxy's the best at ghost-huntin' but I don't sense anything either. I can hear her, though." Bonnie's big ears twitched as he studied the miserable little box. "She's pretty spooked, Faz. I don't think she's able to work the floor like Mike wanted. It's just us and Mike here, and she went to pieces and scrambled like an egg."
Which made Freddy stop and think. Bonnie had a good point. Several actually.
"So which is it?" Freddy wondered, half to himself and half to his best friend.
"Whaddya'mean?" Bonnie asked.
"Is the little whippersnapper more afraid of us, or Michael?" asked Freddy.
Foxy and Bonnie shared a look. Oh.
"Good point." Bonnie mused. "Those are two very different things, aren't they." With two very different outcomes, too. And they adored their night guard, but he was stubborn as his favorite animatronic even on his best nights.
"She didn't attack the lad," Foxy recalled carefully. "And he was holding onto her, even! Had her right round her middle. Perfect striking distance, if she wanted. Lad coulda lost an eye. Well," Foxy thought about Mike's one golden eye, "'nother one, anyway."
"Naw, she just tried to get away from him. Which, okay, Mike's kinda a harmless scarecrow but if he was behind her how could she know that? And you were right next to him, Freddy. And you are scary when you're mad," Bonnie meant it as a compliment, but they all had seen Freddy's glare when he snatched Helpy up.
"And then she saw me and…" Bonnie trailed off, his point made.
"Made a beeline fer yer lil ship right there." Foxy finished, nodding as he mulled this over. "Ah, yanno…'nother thing that just struck me' mind…"
"Yes, Foxy?" Freddy asked.
"Fer as scary as ya are, Cap'n, there's something else in Mikey that is bigger than all of us." Foxy reminded gravely. "Something that makes even old Afton cower like a minnow. An' haunted or not, all of us, even the blasted Toys, can sense that old monster…"
All three animatronics lapsed into thoughtful silence.
"She didn't sense Gold." Bonnie hummed. "Maybe she can't."
Another piece to the puzzle that was the odd little Security Puppet.
"What's she doing, Bon?' Freddy finally demanded. He started to walk away, some questions of his own answered but some more cropped up, like mushrooms after the rain. He needed to think about all of this. He hoped whatever it was, it wouldn't hurt Mike.
"…nuthin. Just curled up in there." Bonnie paused, one ear crooking downward before he drew back with a disturbed glance on his features, following Freddy across the hall.
"I think she's crying."
Mike was drowning his sorrows in hot chocolate—Chica wouldn't let him have any more coffee, and for once he couldn't blame her—when he felt a little tug at his pant leg. He snorted in surprise, spit out a marshmallow before he choked on it, and glanced down, blinking.
Helpy beamed up at him and pointed a fat finger up at Mike's elbow, and Mike snorted in amused reflex.
"Wondered where you gotten off to, little bear. Hey, can Helpy come on the counter, Chi?" Mike asked politely before he just reached.
"Hmm…well, I suppose. I haven't wiped them down yet… Just make sure to keep an eye on him, chickadee." Chica reminded cheerfully before she turned back to the walk in. She didn't like their organization system apparently, and was fixing it. Her sense of tidiness was mostly her but somewhat copied from Freddy, which had always been adorable to Mike.
"Will do." Mike hummed, and soon Helpy was up on the counter where he wanted to be. The little guy glanced around in awe at the height and, naturally, toddled off toward the empty sink. He kept walking and immediately fell into it, looking so startled at gravity that he caused poor Mike to choke on his drink as Freddy and Bonnie walked in.
"Ya'alright, son?" Freddy sounded more worried than amused, but Bonnie laughed at him.
"M'good," Mike was and he wasn't. But he couldn't pick apart the events that happened just before this. Mike didn't have it in him, he was tired. And he had some questions for Henry anyway that would have to wait until he saw the man again. "How is…she…?"
"Fine." Said Freddy, which was a lie and a truth. Freddy was good at those, always had been. "Just give her time. This is a big change fer all of us, yourself included. I know what it seems like…to all of us, but this ain't our restaurant."
Which was something everyone needed to hear, not just Mike.
Foxy, who had wandered in just in time to hear this, grunted in agreement.
"Besides, ain't even gotta cove fer poor ole' Foxy." He spied Helpy heading for the row of electric mixing bowls and moved in before Chica could see, shooing the little pest away.
"Yanno, I was thinking about that." Mike downed the last of his coco with a gulp and stood for the sink, drawing Helpy's ever endless curiosity. "I saw four stage ports. I'd assume for remodels of you guys. But I haven't seen them, have you…? Not in Parts and Services, or just hanging around in a corner."
"We haven't checked out that building behind this one, Mike." Bon reminded, seeing Freddy's look and nod of encouragement. When in doubt, distract Mike with something new, or the potential to find more animatronics and study up on them. "I tried, but I can't hear through the walls of this joint, let alone into somewhere new."
Mike twisted, shooting the rabbit an alarmed look over his shoulder. "That's right. I thought it was because there was nothing to hear," and originally so did Bonnie it seemed. "But you'd pick up ambiance noises, wouldn't you. Hmm…you think lead?"
"Could be." Bonnie mused. "Sure can't hear through that, after all."
No Bonnie model could, in fact. It was an old trait carried over from Springbonnie, due to limitations by technology at that age. It had been kept however, maybe because the people who'd built the Bonnie models had realized those ears could do more harm than good. Mike had checked it out a long time ago, and wasn't surprised to learn the hidden room off the old restaurant had been lined with lead.
"Either way…I'm supposed to check over everything. Animatronics included." Mike scrubbed the mug and huffed his bangs out of his eyes.
"It'd be nice to know what we're being replaced with." Freddy agreed, with much more bite in his words than perhaps he meant. None of it was aimed at Mike, but the night guard shot Freddy a warm look of sympathy nonetheless. He finished drying the mug and set it upside down, then grabbed Helpy before he could trip over said mug and set him down on the tile. Undaunted, Helpy wandered toward Foxy's dangling tail, and received a snap of warning from the fox's big jaws that caused him to cheerfully change directions and waddle for the walk-in to watch Chica organize and sort frozen food.
"Think I'll check it out. You wanna come with, big guy?" Mike hummed, already knowing the answer, but the firm nod made him smile. "Bonnie?"
"Sure, I'm off the clock." The rabbit teased. "Just lemme put my guitar on stage."
"Figure not, but anyone else wanna?" the night guard asked the rest of his coworkers.
"Count me out, lad. I'll help cook with her sortin' o'provisions."
Chica giggled, "Thank you Captain Foxy~ Mike, why don't you take Helpy? He seems to keep searching for you. When he's not distracted, that is."
Bonnie grumbled a noise of detest at Helpy tagging along, but when Freddy didn't argue, he too relented. Freddy remembered Plushtrap. He'd take help for Mike where he could, tiny annoying plastic bears aside.
"Got yer light?' Fazbear grunted down to Mike as they headed for the back door Bonnie had found in the spare room behind Parts and Services. It was a strange, dark square, with one table and two chairs set up like an interrogation center. Mike had absolutely no clue what it was for, and Helpy didn't seem interested in it. They moved through the room, man and bearbot and bunnybot and smaller bearbot, Mike's keys jingling on his hip.
"Always do." Mike assured.
The alleyway was nothing overly exciting. Bonnie informed them both of a strange buzzing pitch that he clearly didn't like, and Mike wondered if it was the little lampposts down at either end of the tiny longways space.
"Well whatever it is, it's annoying." Bonnie gripped as Freddy chuckled.
"Don't hear it, big guy?" Mike asked Fazbear, who seemed at ease and unimpressed by the alley as much as Mike did.
"Sure don't. But my ears ain't what they used to be—and even when they were, they weren't nuthin' like Bon's."
Mike shrugged and wandered over the threshold. "Fair enough. Let's see…"
But Mike did not get to 'lets see' anything.
A tinkle of a bell caught his attention. It was faint, but Bonnie's ears swiveled directly behind him and Mike turned too, realizing it wasn't just his imagination.
He jerked in surprise when Security Puppet's lithe frame was just. Floating there, her optics wide and flared, a pretty shade of blue that looked familiar. Mike blinked, then glanced down quickly where her optics were locked.
"..oh." he lifted his wrist, the one with his watch and the blue band he had put on early. Her optics glowed the same shade as the blue band. She stared at him, little open mouth of her split mask turned down. She had been smiling when Mike had found her…but now…
'Her mask moves. I don't think it should, though. It's hard plastic.' Mike felt ice creep up his spine.
"…uhm…oops." Mike glanced at the doorway leading back to the restaurant.
"...what's blue for?" Her whispered to his looming bookends of animatronics. "What age group?"
"Think Henry said teenagers?" Freddy rumbled, watching with obvious interest in his glass eyes. "Lowest priority."
"You went into the kitchen and Parts and Services and she didn't do nuthin." Bonnie reminded with a look.
"True…but I left the building…and didn't give back the bracelet." Mike realized, feeling somewhat stunned. "She still works!"
The little puppet's bell jingled at Mike's voice, but her mouth wasn't moving—oh, no, that was her. Those were the noises she just made, combined with soft stressed sounds of machinery. Her rusty joints creaked as she edged closer to Mike, reaching for his wrist with shy, spindly fingers.
Her optics fell on Freddy and she flinched, looking distraught as she glided backwards. And then forwards, sliding towards Mike as if she expected to be yelled at, but wholly determined to get to him in spite of it.
"You…want me to go back inside, sweetie?" Mike kept his voice gentle and sweet, usually reserved for an angry Fazbear or frazzled Mangle.
Her entire frame seemed to vibrate, and the bell-like noises pitched lower, in some form of agreement. Higher pitches seemed to mean stress, and lower ones more calm and assertive. Freddy and Bonnie and even little, clueless Helpy who was staring down the alleyway at nothing got the higher pitches. Like they were all someone to be afraid of. It was Mike she seemed to be pleading with.
So Mike let her tug and then took a step toward the door, receiving a quick series of nods and a noise of relief from the clearly frightened and stressed little Security Puppet.
"Alright, alright, let me just…"
Security Puppet eyed Freddy and Bonnie distrustfully, and yanked on Mike's arm when they moved to follow him in. Her noises weren't so much aggressive as they were blatantly warning, the jingle-jangle of her little frame reverberating as she edged between Mike and the two Fazes. Mike was so surprised he let it happen, and anyway, she was half his height. She wasn't exactly blocking him even remotely from view.
"Ooooh," said Bonnie, and then fell silent and frowned lightly. His ears leaned back in Bonnie-body-language for dislike and insult, and this caught Mike's attention.
"What is it?"
"She thinks we're—we're not us." Bonnie scowled. "Yanno—that we're Empty Suits filled with—"
"Adults inside." Freddy sounded none too pleased, but he seemed less tense than before. Mike considered the possibilities, and his lips parted into a soft o shape.
"…so SP thinks you're taking me somewhere to—" 'A secondary location to murder me' sounded too strange, so Mike left it at that. Bonnie, insulted and irritated, did not leave it. He was pissed.
"Stuff you like cheese inside a crust." Bonnie smiled darkly, gnashing his teeth at the little Security Puppet, who jumped and pressed back into Mike's shoulder with a twang of anxiety and unease. 'See!?' her startled chime seemed to cry at Mike, who had to fight a laugh at the idea of his family hurting him.
"Stop that." Mike scolded the bunny in warning. "SP doesn't know, she's just trying to follow her programming. I know you two would never hurt me, but she doesn't. Play nice, Bonnie."
"Tch." replied the insulted bunnybot. Maybe Mike was Freddy's, but at the end of the day he truly was all of theirs and Bonnie models in particular didn't share well.
"Look, let's get inside." Mike said, ever the mediator. "Fred, grab Helpy, he's heading down the alleyway—See Security? I'm going, you did great, coming to check on me when I wandered too far, SP…"
Security Puppet jingled loudly at him in her own type of praise, gliding after him. The Puppet could float too but she seemed more…mechanical about it. Perhaps she was haunted, but the human soul was buried so deep or had left before SP could learn how to function more convincingly. Mike didn't know, only knew what he had to compare her to.
'And she's nothing like Marion so far. She's so…skittish, and almost obsessed on her original coding. Which is fine, but…if she can't relearn certain things, or draw new 'if and then' statements like all AI's can do…that might mean her AI is busted.'
Despite her ability to understand them, SP still seemed to have trouble understanding who they were, which was fine with Mike so long as she didn't get aggressive Freddy or Bonnie. It's not a fight she would win, even he knew that. And she had enough damage done to her already. He was just glad Freddy wasn't as insulted as Bonnie was over the assumption they were trying to steal Mike away to kill him.
Which had always been a sore subject for Fazbear, but it reminded Mike how much Freddy had grown when all he did was seem tolerantly bemused by little SP trying to shield Mike from him. Of course, Freddy still didn't like other Adults, but Mike supposed some wounds never healed. He had a feeling if SP was a human trying to do this, Bonnie would be the least of Mike's worries, and Security would be going back to her box in pieces whether Mike liked it or not.
By the time they got to the main room by the stage, her optics had faded back to soft white, and she seemed far, far less engaged with Mike.
And then she was back in her box, soft optics peering out from the gloom one last time, sweeping the room almost robotically. Of course, there was no one else, Mike had only removed and activated one band.
"SP, wait, maybe you should—"
Her lid closed with a soft jangle and that was the end of it.
While it was almost exactly what happened earlier, it felt far different for Mike, who sighed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and turned, smiling when he saw Freddy and Bonnie eyeing him.
"Uh…let's check out the other building tomorrow, yeah? I'll make sure to take off her security-band, obviously…"
"Obviously." Bonnie snorted.
Mike shot the bunny another warning look, but softened.
"Give me a hand with the rocket game, Bon. Helpy tripped over the plug twice, we gotta tape it down or move it or something, and I'll need your help."
He didn't, not really. And if he did need muscle usually he asked Freddy.
Bonnie tossed him a look that clued Mike in to the fact he knew what the night guard was up to. But he apparently didn't care—or perhaps he was that rattled—because he nodded.
"Fine, don't need ta beg, jeez."
"Turn on your music, Bugs, it's been years since I heard Aerosmith."
That finally earned a pleased smirk from the lavender rabbit, and Mike mirrored it. He wasn't afraid of them, and hadn't been for years. That wasn't going to change overnight, not because they changed settings, not because a Puppet-look-alike acted like they were someone to fear. Someone to distrust.
Mike was their family, and they were his.
A very tired night guard was just trying to catch up on some shut eye when it happened.
It happened rather quickly, there-and-gone and all he had left to go off was the phantom rush of adrenaline. Gold snapped to life in his bones, every single chilled hair on Mike's body on edge. His poor tired mind literally went from zero to sixty in the span of seconds, one side of him ready to fight and the other still wishing he was at home in his little room in the restaurant, asleep and cozy. A chill snaked down Mike's spine, and his bony frame jerked from the slouched position against Freddy's warm side, where he had tucked himself up as the two sat on the stage. Mike was good at sleeping anywhere, had mastered the most odd positions and places long ago. His favorite spot aside from the little cot in the Prize Room was usually against Fazbear himself, who was warm and familiar and would stay awake and watch for anything so Mike could recharge his own human batteries.
Gold growled and kicked Mike's spooked nerves into gear. Mike jolted as if shocked and yelped comically loud.
"Wha'issit?! M'up, les'go—I, Fru-ehddy?"
"Steady, Michael." Freddy's deep voice rumbled through him, and Mike instantly relaxed, shushing poor Gold in his bones who grunted but acquiesced obediently. Senses relaxing from their high drive, he realized the restaurant wasn't sleeping anymore. Night had come but was going. He heard Bonnie's radio playing in the kitchen, the last trails of some Led Zeppelin tune he couldn't recall at the moment leaking to him, and over that, was Foxy's low snoring from behind him, where the old seadog had flopped down to provide a wall for Mike to sleep against. That was why he wasn't cold, then. Mike took another steadying breath, and smelled the sweetness of Chica's French Toast, his mouth watering instantly. His eyes flicked to the wide windows by the double doors.
It was nearly morning. Sunrise. First night down. Six to go.
Mike regarded the entire room tiredly.
"But I felt…" He mumbled sleepily, sounding like he had been gargling marbles. He scrubbed a fist into his good eye and winced, shaking himself as he rolled up. He collected lean limbs under him, checked to make sure he hadn't tipped his now lukewarm hot chocolate right off the stage—he hadn't, but only because Freddy had grabbed it some time ago and was still holding it in a careful paw—and stared across the dining hall.
It was pitch black, but Mike could see it. Could just make out that string of square pearly teeth. The tiny dots of eyes above them. The smile that venomously curved upward when it saw Mike finally looking at it.
Mike, despite himself, shivered.
"Shadow You's never left our restaurant, right? Not that you knew of?" Mike breathed to his best friend and current pillow, keeping his skinny side pressed against the sitting animatronic bear's large flank.
He felt more than heard Fazbear shake his head. Nope. Never. A change in the pattern.
"Okay. But he has now. He's here." Mike swallowed, squinting as his eyes glowed a faint gold. The room brightened, at least, for Mike it did.
"What d'ya think he wants?"
"To start trouble?" Fazbear growled, eyeing the faintly purple Shadow Freddy, who remained staring at Mike. "Want me ta chase him off, son?"
Mike's jaw worked, and he thought.
"…no. No, I wanna see what he does. If anything. But let the others know he's skulking around here." Mike studied the fuzzy outline of the eerie ghost. "He usually heralds some problem, even if he doesn't outright cause it…"
Shadow Freddy was an odd one. And he was much more active, at least he was ever since Shadow Bonnie had vanished on them.
'Shadow Bonnie was connected to Danny somehow—he left after Danny did that August, nine years ago. After we beat Nightmare. I never did figure out why Shadow Freddy is still skulking around.'
Maybe he wasn't supposed to yet. In a place like Freddy's, most everything had a reason, and a time and place.
And it wasn't up to humans to decide when and where, Mike had learned that lesson too. It was also a lesson he learned the hard way.
Mike moved to sit back, his spine relaxing against Foxy's strong shoulders as he eyed Shadow Freddy. Shadow Freddy eyed him right back. Mike's lips pursed, and he shot a proprietary glance across the big main room.
Nothing was out of place, not that watchful Mike could see. SP's box was exactly where he had left it, on the table he had been repairing her on. Helpy was sitting back against it, tiny paws clasped over his belly and shiny eyes closed and tiny body doing some strange by-himself-no-stage-needed-charge that Mike wasn't used to the animatronics doing.
When Mike looked back, Shadow Freddy was gone.
"Oh…kay."
Freddy snorted loudly. "Good riddance."
Mike heard a creak of joints and a rough yawning noise. He reached back, absently patting the old pirate Captain, who growled in friendly greeting when he noticed Mike just leaning on him.
"One night down, lad." Foxy remarked, eyeing the spot where Shadow Freddy had been. Freddy had to hand it to the old seadog—he still was their best ghost spotter, even ones who tried to hide from him. Because neither Mike nor Freddy seemed in attack mode, Foxy took their cue and only stared lazily at the spot where the ghost bear had stood.
"Sure is, Captain." Mike sighed. "So why do I feel like this day isn't ever gunna end?"
Local man doing his goddamn best, more at eleven.
