Author's notes: Sorry this didn't go up at the second Friday mark—I've had like 3 birthdays in the last 2 weeks, a party, and tons of commissions to work on from lovely clients~ I write for fun but I haven't had much time for fun lately, but hopefully spring is right around the corner!
Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly. -Charles Addams
ACT II.
Chapter 8. Something in the Dark is on Its Way
The Past, 1985
"You're late."
"So fire me." The teenage boy yanked his headphones from his ears, lest he get a lecture on not listening and disrespect in addition to his tardiness. With any luck, he could avoid either, if he kept walking fast enough.
"Just get to work, Michael." His father snapped, apparently not in the mood to engage for once. Well, that was just fine with him.
But he didn't push his luck, and so he held his eyeroll in until he was well past his father by the entrance of the diner. He scooted round the tables and chairs, eyeing the mess he'd have to tackle. Nothing major, must'a been no parties today. Even better. Less mess. His eyes flicked to the second stage, giving Freddy and his two friends a quizzical glance. He halted, pausing mid step until Freddy's blue optics clicked to the side and down to land fully on him. There was a pause, and the bear moved his features into a rough attempt at a welcoming smile, he even managed a nod. Beside him, Chica and Bonnie reacted too, albeit slower. Either of them managed to nod, they only stared.
"You guys still workin' yer kinks out, huh?" Still, he waved back, and even waited for Freddy to ponderously mimic the motion. He studied his own paw for a good while, then turned back down in askance to the young man, who chuckled as the bearbot wriggled his large brown paws.
"Yeah, good job Fred." Michael waved again at the new bot, "Hey there."
He could fool around with Henry's new AI's later, though. The inventor wasn't here today, and so Michael knew especially not to risk the wrath of the patriarch of the Afton family. Henry was the only one whoever stood up for him anyway, though sometimes Scott tried helping Alex….but Alexander was an altogether different problem.
He strode toward the center of the diner, where Fredbear and Springbonnie's stage jutted proudly. He was barely two feet near it when big goofy ears sprang up and Springbonnie's gold head swiveled toward the noise of his high tops along the smooth tile. His optics illuminated, and his servos whuffed softly as he quickly took in his surroundings.
"M-Michael! Welcome—welcome back!" The chipper bunny chirped, overeager and sunshine friendly as always. "Lo-look who it is, G-Goldy-bear!"
Michael halted, trying to fit the shiver when Fredbear did indeed turn. Unlike Freddy's slow and careful motions, Fredbear's moves screamed calm and control and 'Thou Shall Not Fuck with Me.' Fredbear was oldest, and the smartest AI of the bunch. His motions were smooth and well oiled, rotors humming softly as his inner workings purred along. What his system wanted to do, he managed it. Nods, waves, ups and down, answers to math problems by displaying the number on his paws. Recognition of patrons using memory files that took up most of the space in his heavy, golden frame. His coding was award winning, according to his dad, but Henry had never explained much beyond the gentle statement of, "Yes, he is the smartest here. You can see it, in his optics. Fredbear…he's figuring things out. He understands."
To Michael, it always seemed like a warning more than anything else.
"Hullo, young Michael." Rumbled the big gold animatronic.
"…h-hey, dude…just…passin' through." Fredbear seemed to be both the eyes and ears of the little joint, many a time he and his brothers had been caught doing something they shouldn't, or going somewhere they knew was off limits—and when those tales got back to Dad, every kid knew who had snitched. Problem was, you couldn't bully a 200 lb animatronic bear into not telling, and you sure as hell couldn't bribe or out logic the computer AI that ran Fredbear's protocols. It could get annoying—but if Michael had learned one thing from working here since he was tall enough to hold a broom, it was this: there was a way around every rule. Every one. You just had to be sharp and quick enough to try it. Computers couldn't be beaten, maybe, but they could be avoided.
'Kind of like that flick War Games we saw a few years ago. 'The only way to win is to not play.' Michael snorted softly.
"C-chore time? M-Michael?" Springbonnie asked as he swiveled his torso rockily back to Michael after turning from his Freddy model. "F-fun fun!"
"Chore time." Despite not looking forward to it, he smiled anyway. It was kind of hard to be pissy around Springbonnie. It was a wonder why he seemed to like Dad the most, who always seemed pissy even when pleased about something. No one figured out why, except that Springbonnie was just…kind of hinky sometimes. But he was, according to Henry, mentally sound and aware as much as his bear-buddy-in-crime was. His speaker was the main problem, part of it being he was always so excited he pushed his systems to the limit, part of it being the usual wear and tear. There was a reason Henry and Dad had begun work on the 'Fazgang' as their trademarked labeled them—one day, Springbonnie and even sturdy Fredbear would likely need to be taken down. Either for serious repair or storage until that time could come. And bills and money and business didn't give a damn about repairs, they wanted their food and their kid's entertained. And, the more revenue the Fazes bought in, the better a buffer for those repairs. Fredbear and his friends were not cheap, but Will was, and even sometimes Henry, too. Cutting corners was just how you succeeded in this business.
"Have—have a fun—fun time! Bye-bye!" Springbonnie said from his stage, despite knowing he would see Michael again when the kid returned to sweep and mop and dust and wax.
Fredbear merely inclined his head and watched Michael hurry toward the back of the building.
He hadn't paused his cassette, so the music could still be heard, and as Zeppelin moaned the lonesome chorus of Kashmir, the teen slunk round through the double doors, eyes sweeping the kitchen. His grin widened when he spotted a familiar crumpled purple shirt.
"Hey Scott." Michael halted beside the man and dug out his prize, unfolding the piece of paper from his back pocket, "Dig it, man, a B-. A solid B-!"
Scott, manager and probably just as much a father figure as old Henry himself, turned and squinted—had the dude lost his glasses again?—but lit right up as soon as he spotted the red mark from the teach.
"Well, hello hello!" The older man shared his smile, though it was slightly prouder. "Good job, Mike! See, you can do anything you put your mind to, it's like Henry's always saying!"
"I know." Michael chuckled, "Hey, any chow left? I'm starved, I skipped lunch."
"Doing what?" Scott asked, his look shifting to sly and scrutinizing.
"Uh….studyin'."
Scott arched a brow in a manner than reminded Michael of Henry, and the teenager shirked, ducking as he slunk toward the fridge like an unfixed tomcat.
"Studyin' Linda Miller's notes…erh, lips. Same thing." Michael yanked open the heavy teal fridge door. "Awh, hey, ya' told me to take better notes!"
"I told you to work on your penmanship." Scott rolled his eyes fondly but shook his head. "Go on, there's some chili left."
"Eh, good enough."
Michael strutted through the kitchen doors, letting them swing closed behind him. He eyed the immediate area. Dad had either gone home, or was simply outside in the old shop. Either way, the place was his for the moment. He could afford a quick break before work, couldn't he? So Michael kept one hand under his bowl and the other round his spoon, wolfing down his meal as he wandered on lazy legs back toward the second stage.
"Hey guys," one nice thing about the Fazes, they were too new to understand manners. He spoke around a mouthful of food and swallowed quickly. "Yeah, you figured that real quick, huh?"
Freddy was waving down at him again. Infact, only Bonnie and Chica had to lift their eye plates, and scan their immediate area, and reconfigure quickly to spot him. Freddy had been watching the kitchen doors waiting for him to appear again.
Freddy waved again. He seemed to like doing it.
"Good job." Michael chuckled, striding up the short steps to their stage, so that he was just by Bonnie's hip.
The purple bunny clicked his bright optics to his right, ears lowering toward the teen's headphones.
"Zeppelin today, Bon. You wanna listen?"
Bonnie did, of course, and the purple rabbit expressed this by nodding eagerly. His ears cranked and whined a bit.
"Voice still out, huh?"
But Bonnie didn't seem bothered, merely dipped his head for the phones that Michael stretched out to wedge against his ears, cutting the volume sharply so the rabbit's sensitive receptors didn't get fried. He handed his precious cassette player over to a purple paw, who held it almost reverently.
"Michael—" managed a young, feminine voice. The eldest Afton siblings jerked, following Chica's line of sight, "…food? Eat?"
Chica was talking more, her AI didn't seem to have trouble with that. But she still spoke in stilted phrases. While it could be argued she wasn't developing exactly on time or as expected, she was still making a go of it. And Michael had a feeling Bonnie and Freddy's silence was slowing her coding down too, because a lot of the reason Springbonnie was so lively was because he had been following Fredbear from day one.
"Oh, it's chili. Uhm, yanno, Mexican food. Check it out, it's pretty good. Too many beans though, see? These things." Michael wrinkled his nose and shrugged, tipping the spoon so the beans retreated back into their bowl. "The best chili has a lot of kick to it, though. This stuff's weak so we don't kill a customer."
"Michael—explain—Kick?" Chica parroted, then lapsed into waiting silence.
"Kick, like, as in: Spice—like, hot flavor. Makes our mouths burn. Chili peppers are hot." Michael weighed his words, head bobbing, "It's a good feeling, though. Some people like spicy food—but lots don't. Ya dig?"
Chica's beak clicked once, her head rotating slowly, cameras adjusting back onto the food in his bowl. He was used to the animatronics staring and not blinking, it was how they learned. You could usually tell what priority the AI was giving its growing library based on what the animatronic's cameras were focusing on. Bonnie's gaze was always on his walkman, or Springbonnie's guitar when he saw the bunny walking by with it. Chica seemed to be easily, almost happily, following her cooking protocols from Uncle Henry.
Taking a slurp from his spoon, the teenager flicked his gaze to the leader of the band, chuckling when he noticed Freddy wasn't really focusing on anything, aside from sometimes him. But even that seemed to be more a casual check in, as if Freddy was looking to make sure Michael was alright. It was kind of cute, and the teen wondered if maybe Freddy wasn't copying Uncle Henry more than either of them realized.
"Eaarth to Fazbear, you in there dude?" He rapped his knuckles against that bright brown head suit and chuckled when blue eyes clicked to him, somewhat startled.
"How you doin' man?" Michael's smile turned puzzled. "You still ain't talkin' out of your show times…?"
Freddy regarded him calmly. That was a no, then.
"I dunno, maybe we can teach you sign language or sumthin'. I mean, you got waving down." Michael took a hearty spoonful, and chewed thoughtfully. "What about other hand signals?"
Freddy canted his head in his usual inquisitive manner.
"Here," but Michael had decided for him, like usual. He finished his snack and handed the bowl to Chica to stare at the remains as long as her 'hungry' coding desired—her servos in her hands were a little slow on the uptake but getting smoother by the day. Once he was sure she wasn't going to drop the bowl, Michael turned in place neatly back to the watchful bear, hands on hips as he grinned.
"Try this," Michael held up his right hand, and folded his thumb over his last two fingers. "Universal symbol, perfect to see from across the room. C'mon, man."
Michael held the peace sign up a little higher; making sure the bear saw it.
Freddy gazed down at him, expression flat and blank. Michael huffed in fond exasperation and shook his head, hands on hips.
"You can do anything you put your mind to, Freddy. C'mon." the eldest Afton sibling coaxed, keeping his tone light as when he spoke to his youngest and most timid brother. Arthur was a wimp, sure, but he was like, only seven. Kids could be wimps, who cared? He didn't see the point in Alexander getting on the kid for every little thing—but then, when Arthur was so easy to prank and scare, of course Alexander would go for the easiest target…
Henrietta was off limits, since she was Dad's favorite, and the one time Alex tried to prank Michael he had put the little brat in a headlock and warned him about picking on those bigger than him. Alexander hadn't done shit to him since.
"It's just a peace sign, dude." Michael urged. "See? Kids would dig it if you did this to them a few times in the show."
Freddy held up his paw when Michael nudged him to. Bonnie and Chica watched with obvious interest in their optics, cameras focusing on them both now, instead of his music or his food.
"Here, try it—no, just two fingers." Michael guided one of the stout fingers into place, "Yeah, like that."
He held up a peace sign, smiling as Freddy finally copied him perfectly.
"Peace n' love' man." Michael Afton offered the animatronic bear staring back at him mirroring him.
Freddy tilted his head inquisitively, but said nothing. When Michael laughed, the sound rich and young and alive, the edges of the bear's muzzle drew upwards in a slow, gentle smile.
This seemed ridiculous. Asinine. Foolhardy. If you asked Freddy, 'downright clod-hopping stupid, son!'
But as the Not-New-but-New-Here-Night-guard at Freddy's New Pizzeria, this was part of his job. It had to be done. And not every job was something you always liked; the night guard experience at Freddy's was full of those little moments, certainly. Most of them were followed by fear, horror and then terror in short order. Then exhaustion, tears, and recovery. If you were lucky. If you were Mike.
"Ah don't see why we should have to stay outside."
"You won't be outside, you'll be in the restaurant." Mike sighed with a reminder, knowing this was going to be the hard part. Keeping an overprotective bearbot from storming down a door and defending him was always hard, even with Gold's back up. He loved Freddy, he did, but at least Marion sometimes loosened the strings and let him try on his own before telling him he couldn't handle something. …if he wasn't trying to warn him with a cryptic comment, anyway.
"And you'll be in that room, nuthin' but two chairs ann'a table?"
"And don't forget our very special friend." Bonnie snorted derisively. He shrugged at Freddy's dark, unimpressed look that was tossed his way.
"That's in here too. He says I have to do this alone. Erh—well he says 'Under no circumstances should you have more than one animatronic in the testing room when testing.'" Mike chewed his lip thoughtfully, eyeing the closed door where their…guest…was waiting. "He didn't move when you brought him in?"
"Not even an inch." Bonnie answered, shaking his head.
"Hunk of washed up junk's busted." Foxy muttered. "Should throw'em back outside, lad."
"But then we don't get anything for the salvage." Mike reminded, but even he looked uneasy.
"I haven't listened to those audio response sounds; I don't think I want you guys anywhere near those sounds. What if they screw with your programming?"
"Why would they do that?" Bonnie snorted, "You're sounding kinda paranoid, Mike."
"He's sounding like Freddy," Chica hummed, eyeing their night guard quizzically, but interestingly, didn't disagree with him or her brother bunny.
"I will take that as a compliment, Chica," Mike winked with a chuckle. "Listen, you four stay out here. Bonnie, kill your hearing and do not turn it back until Foxy gives you the signal."
"Got it, but don't say we didn't warn ya~"
"Never will I accuse you all of doing that," Mike snarked with more humor than he realized he had left in him.
Now, Mike turned to his biggest obstacle.
"Freddy, c'mon." Mike frowned and reached out, pushing uselessly against the big side of the old bearbot and grumbling when his efforts yielded nothing, not even a side step.
"Oh no!" Freddy shook his head. "Yer not goin' in there alone, son, with—with that waiting to do who knows what to ya the instant it can!"
"I won't be alone," Mike leaned back and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Max is going with me."
"…I am?"
Scraptrap grunted. 'He is?' he seemed to be asking.
"Mikey!" Chica gasped, as if he'd just suggested she throw out her famous chili recipe and use store bought, from a can.
"Lad! Fer blasted sake's—" Foxy snarled, leveling his hook in warning, tail thrashing—Helpy jumped about behind it trying to catch it until Foxy noticed and growled at him, too.
"What? What did he say?" There was Bonnie, who's powered down ears started to prick upwards as he turned his receivers on. "Mats are throwing tea?"
"Son—"
"Hey, our rule was I had to have someone with me at all times around here, wasn't it?" Mike hedged with a slow, calm smile up at his best friend. "This is a good test for him, and I'm not breaking our new rule~"
Freddy growled down at him, and to his left, Max tensed with good sense and stepped closer to Foxy, who eyed him but said nothing. Scraptrap grumbled and nudged at his owner's shoulder. When Max spared him a look, his metal, jointed fingers moved rustily.
"Well that's one blasted thing we can agree one, init?" Freddy snapped, having flicked his optics to Scraptrap. "Ya both going in there is a bad idea, an we won't have it."
Max turned warily toward the leader, looking as if some part of him had come loose and he was rocked by a loss of something, or realization. "You…you know ASL?"
"Huh?" Mike wondered why the kid looked ashen—well, more ashen than normal. "Of course he does, the whole gang knows it. Even before me….why?"
"Uhm," Max's purple eyes stared at Freddy with a new look in his gaze, "…it's nothing. Just. I forgot, I guess."
It was Mike's turn to give the Afton sibling a confused look, but he shook his head. Later. They had bigger fish to fry right now. Possibly literally, if Freddy was going to have his way.
"Well, big guy? Deal or no? Look, we can't just wait around here all morning, I gotta do the job Henry's left me. I could get fired if I don't, right?"
"Hnn." Said Freddy. Mike went on.
"And if I get fired we lose our pay and the chance to enjoy this joint on its opening day, right?"
"Tch." Said Freddy. Mike smirked, seeing the break in the bot's features, the subtle grind of his jaws and the slow lower of his dark eyeplates.
"Max will be with me. We're both human enough and, we both have back up if needed. Isn't that right, Freddy?" Mike's one remaining flashed gold to match its twin that made up his right eye, implying more than just the appearance and protection of the Fazes if something did in fact go wrong. The glow was only noticed by Freddy and Chica, who shared a look but, finally, Chica nodded slowly.
"…you be quick, Michael." Faz stepped to the side finally, revealing the door to the room that was just off the back alley.
"An'you—" Freddy leveled a thick paw at Max as he crossed the short distance to tag along behind Mike.
"Me w-what?" Max demanded, but the break in his voice didn't really sell his confidence.
"You look out for him. He's a fool, but he's our fool." Fazbear reminded around a gnash of slightly stained teeth, ignoring Mike's droll comment of 'thank you,' in the background.
"…yeah. I remember the feeling, Freddy." Max muttered softly, warily, up at the bearbot who stilled and went silent. "Look, don't worry…Scraptrap has my back anyway, even if the lot of you don't care about me anymore."
Max strode in behind Mike, his gait slow and beaten down.
"He's taking the punk in with him?! Why didn't anyone say so!?" Bonnie demanded loudly, earning a swipe in his direction from poor Foxy,
"Aye—ah' mean," Foxy nodded sharply so Bonnie could see the affirmative, since he sure couldn't hear it.
Scraptrap rolled his optics, but lurched until he stood beside Freddy, and the two stared at each other for a long while before focusing on the closed door where their kids were.
They waited. This was one of the hardest things to do, of course. But they waited still.
'Shh, listen. Do you hear that?'
'IT'S REAL HARD TO HEAR ANYTHING WHEN FUNFOX IS GOING' ON'AN'ON BOUT HIMSELF!'
'Good chap, I was only answering your question. You asked us how we should proceed and I told you what I would I do if I were the one in charge—'
'ONLY YOU AIN'T IN CHARGE, I AM! I GOT ENOUGH TROUBLE KEEPIN' US ALL TOGETHER WITHOUT YOUR BACK SEAT DRIVING, PARTY-POOPER!'
'Ballora's right, Freddy! Look! Look who it is!'
'….OOOHHH, I GETCHA' BAWNBAWN. LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN~! IT'S OUR BIRTHDAAAY BOOOY!'
'Let's see what he wants, first.'
'Good idea, dear, I second that vote for waiting. A good performer never misses his cue, but also must wait for said cue! Timing, in show business, is everything.
'Tee-hee! Good point Funfoxy! What do you think, Freddy?'
'ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. I CAN TAKE A HINT. I AIN'T CIRC. THIS IS A TEAM EFFORT. NOW, WE ALL PLAY DEAD…AND SEE IF WE CAN'T MAKE HIM PLAY DEAD TOO…'
It is said that some people laugh on the inside. This is merely a phrase. And then some, at least, these four, truly actually laugh on the inside.
It would give away the surprise if they did otherwise.
Mike stared evenly across the table, not taking his eyes off the slumped, and innocuous looking…well, animatronic was a loose term. But any looser, and Mike was sure the strange jumble of wires and cords was going to come apart and tumble out of its chair. It was an animatronic though, technically. At one point it had been anyway. His scowl deepened and he shifted unhappily in his seat.
He waved a hand in front of the bear's face; at least, what he thought was the bear's face.
"Uh…okay, let's see, animatronic numero uno," Mike eyed the paper, and then his corpse of a companion. "I guess it's…Funtime Freddy?"
"What's left of him." Max snorted, then paused. No response from that little jab. "Look, he's got more optics attached to him. There, and there. Different colors. Might be joined together still, like what you told me about earlier."
"Good catch," Mike praised, pencil scratching out Funtime Freddy and scribbling his quick correction. "Ennard, then. With a question mark, for good measure."
"'Ennard?'" repeated Max with a note of incredulousness and confusion lacing his tone.
"That's what I've been calling the Funtimes when they uh…become so…close knit." Mike shrugged. At Max's stare, he went on cheerfully.
"Geddit, like, innards? …I thought it was clever, and making things up on the fly when the fucker is trying to gouge out your insides isn't easy. But this guy…he looks like Ennard melted. Or like Funtime Freddy melted."
"I think you just like naming things." Max smirked, but went back to studying the tangle of wires that somewhat resembled a body. Sort of. If you squinted.
Ennard, or Melted Ennard, or Melted Freddy, or whoever Mike deemed him, barely had a body, and barely had a mask. They did have two servo bare hands, kind of, with piped fingers with one joint in each finger. Not very dexterous, and not very skilled looking. They mostly seemed to just be a knot of tangled, tied taught wires held together with some shobby welding and some luck and hope. And it looked like luck was soon to run out. How had they even made it here, in one piece? And how long before they came to life, slithered apart or both? …and why hadn't they done anything earlier? Hmm.
"…well, Circus Baby isn't with them anymore." Max spoke after a long and hard studious stare.
"What?" Mike snapped to attention at that, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Pretty sure. Just…take my word." Max didn't feel like explaining the ins and outs of a Suit to this guy, and even if he wanted to they didn't have time. "Besides, would she let us just walk in here, and let you sit down? And not do anything or say something?"
"…" Mike's look answered him well enough. He knew about Circus too, then, and her penchant for promises and sweet words meant to lure and convince. The memory of his time down in Pizza World made ice tap dance up Mike's spine and he fought the instinct shiver as Gold hummed in comforting amusement in the back of his mind.
"She's like Dad was. Is. Always has to be in control. Even when she isn't, and that only drives her to behave even worse." Max didn't go on, but his look was a million miles away.
"Ah." Mike wasn't sure what to reply, because what do you say to that? He sighed, and filed more away for later. As much as he wanted to focus on helping Max unravel his history and support the kid if he needed it, Mike had to make a choice. Right now, Ennard or, what was left of them, was the biggest problem on his radar right now. Thankfully, Max noticed his silence and almost seemed grateful for it. He quickly changed the subject.
"That the tape Uncle Henry said to play when you got something?" A purple finger pointed at the table, to the cassette player sitting by Mike's left hand.
"Yep. Ready?" Schmidt asked.
"No. But we gotta do this anyway, I guess." Max watched Mike tap the play button, and then both turned their attention wholly back onto the animatronic across from them. Henry's voice filled the small, dark room.
"Before you is an animatronic found in the back alley. We are unsure of its origins. It is your job to complete the maintenance checklist before claiming it as salvage. Or, if you choose to, you can throw it back into the alley where you found it, and forfeit payment. Please make your choice now."
Mike smacked pause and glanced doubtfully at Max.
"…hey, if they're dead or inactive, then there's good parts there, right? An AI tells a hand to grab something, the hand isn't actually evil." Max surmised. "I'm not saying we be stupid about this, but…dead's dead. Well, for most things anyway. Don't include me in that statement."
"Or haunted, right?" Mike asked in calm amusement.
"Right. Or haunted. We can figure that out later. Or…maybe this tape from Uncle Henry is what's meant to figure that stuff out for us. Heavy, huh?" Max tapped play this time. It was clear he was interested in seeing where this was going, which Mike didn't expect but kind of liked.
"You have chosen to proceed with the maintenance checklist. Remember, use your company issued taser to return the animatronic to a neutral state if you feel it is becoming unstable or aggressive. You can only use it three times before it begins to damage the animatronic, and decrease its value."
"With that?" Mike picked up the long handled taser and winced. "Jesus, that's…archaic."
"You seen Jurassic Park?" Max held a hand out for it, taking it to study.
"Yeah, though it came out the year I was born. Never saw it on the big screen. You?"
"In theaters," Max bragged, but his smile was short lived. "…was hard to appreciate the terror seeing as I had been dead for almost six years. But no one notices shit in a darkened movie theater, certainly didn't notice me an' Scrap in the back. He got a kick out of it, too."
Mike wisely said nothing, but he tossed Max a sympathetic look before pressing play again.
"Begin audio prompt in three, two, one." Mike and Max both winced when the oddest, most ear splitting noise of rolling whines and pitches poured from the speaker. They didn't hide their dislike for the awful cacophony of noises, but both kept their eyes firmly locked on the melted hunk of limp and still cording. Funtime Freddy's mask gaped widely at nothing, his single yellow and round optic blank and unseeing. Empty as a grave. Even his silence and stillness was unnerving. Mike made another face as the tape finally ended.
"Document results." Henry's voice commanded. Funny, his tone seemed a little colder than normal.
They received the same results a second time, though Mike personally didn't hear much difference in the second audio prompt. It all sounded god-awful and horrible. Below his skin, which was prickled with cold, Gold stirred in dislike and unease. For chill, steady Gold to be unhappy about the sounds, they must be something. Surely they were doing something worse to the already strange and unhinged Molten Freddy, right? An animatronic didn't look like this and still be 'all there', surely. He was instantly relieved he had gotten the gang to stay outside, and even more so that Bonnie didn't have to hear this full blast.
"Document results." Said Henry again.
Audio prompt three was also bone-chilling. Not just because the sounds were grating and sounded like someone was rubbing sandpaper on your ear drum, but because, by the time Mike and Max forced open their squinting eyes from the pain of the noise, the revolting Funtime model had moved.
But only a little bit. Just a hair. Straightened up in its chair. Its optics remained dark and glossy.
Mike's pulse quickened. He was sure Max's would too, if it still could.
"Uh…that got…a result." Mike murmured. He marked it down.
"How many are there?" Max asked with slow wariness, sounding like he didn't want to know the answer. But Molten Freddy remained silent and still once more, frozen in place. Mike almost didn't feel comfortable blinking, but his eyes burned after a full minute and so he had no choice. Below his mind, closer to the forefront of his self and his skin, Golden Freddy stirred, in response and Mike's posture shifted. He sat straighter, allowing his full height to appear, stretched his shoulders so his back was taut. His own intense predator gaze remained locked on Molten Freddy as he waited. Mm, nothing. Hm. His finger smacked the play.
Max was answered by Henry's recorded voice dictating the start of Audio Prompt four.
Molten Freddy twitched once, twice, before starting to slide servos up and lift itself up off the chair and over the table. Mike froze, inhaled, pulled on Gold's awareness from across the bond and readied himself to Switch Suits and—
The taser prodded in swiftly, sticking deep into the Funtime's wiry frame until it slumped back downwards and drooped into almost an identical position from before. Mike turned wide eyes to Max, who gripped the weapon firmly and though he seemed unhappy he didn't hesitate to keep it wielded and at the ready.
Mike and Max both stilled, watching Molten Freddy in thinly veiled disgust and concern.
The audio prompt played on, and finished. But Molten Freddy made no other response. Not even a twitch. And his first movement had been silent, save for the creaks and moans of his own ragged frame. Did he even have a speaker in there? Another piece to the puzzle.
"…uh….okay…" Mike checked the response, then narrowed his gaze at the mess of wires.
"So was that—is their AI even active?" Max demanded suddenly, "Or was it just a reflex? I shocked it, and you still got both your arms. And so do I. What the hell?" A fair question, in all honesty.
"A reflex?" Mike demanded warily, "I'm pretty sure a reflex is like a sneeze or saying 'thank you' when someone gets the door—"
Max shook his head, tossing Mike a firm and careful jerk of his head at their guest.
"The Funtimes are coded to react aggressively, Mike, and kill. Trap if there's a crowd, and then go off with their capture if need be but the end game is always the same, dude." Max looked sick just having to describe it. "If these guys wanted to go at us, they would have by now. We've been talking enough. It's just us here. Why wait?"
Mike was silent, but only because he saw the logic and was agreeing slowly.
"Begin audio prompt in three, two, one." These noises were definitely different from the other four. So much so that Mike let his startled expression turn from Molten down to the cassette player. Those noises seemed…familiar, almost? Like from a place he knew somewhere, but couldn't remember, couldn't quite recall. Gold roused and pulsed confusion back at him, because the ghost agreed. And then suddenly realization seemed to be coming more from Gold than him, and that only confused Mike more.
"…Document results."
Mike looked up, feeling guiltily until he noticed Max had eased his posture and lowered the taser down to his side. He didn't let go of it though, and Mike was almost glad for that. He didn't like the thought of striking some empty, coding fueled animatronic into submission. Max seemed to have no problem, but he had also been threatened by Freddy not twenty minutes ago about keeping Mike safe.
The night guard sighed. He wasn't sure if this was going well, or not. He wished Henry were here, since this was all his idea anyway.
"Nope, nothing. I guess it's…salvageable?" the term felt loaded, and Mike felt bad making a buck off an animatronic, but this…thing...seemed so far from the twisting, tightly wound and too smart Ennard that hunted him only a few months ago. Not only had it not responded very well to the audio prompts, but it was so robotic it seemed…dead. If there was such a thing as a truly dead machine—considering all Mike had seen, he decided it was an apt term.
Circus Baby seemed gone, and if she was the ring leader then who was in charge now? Funtime Freddy? He was just as boisterous and obnoxious as their leader could be, just louder and, somehow, more obnoxious about it. Even he was being quiet.
"Where do we even stick this guy?" Max demanded, almost at the same time as Mike wondered what the hell they had to do now.
"Building across the way, is my bet. Nothing is over there it can actually harm. It can't escape and if it does try to, both Bonnie models will hear it, I think." Mike folded the response sheet carefully and tucked it into his pocket to give to Henry the next time he saw him. "I sure as hell don't want it just lying around in the restaurant though."
"Yeah, I getcha." Max set down the taser and waited, as if expecting Molten Freddy to spot this and lunge on the attack.
Mike watched too, frozen in a half rise from his chair, yet nothing happened. He relaxed a bit more and moved.
"Can you and Scraptrap move this—them—there?"
"Will you put in a good word with me and keep Freddy off my back?" Max drawled, looking dour but also half serious. It was enough to make Mike snort.
"I'll do my best, Max." Mike agreed, deciding this was a fair trade. "Hey, and thank you."
"Uh…you're welcome…but for what?"
"For having my back. I owe ya one." Mike grinned before twisting the knob and heading out into the restaurant.
Max was silent, the taser still in his grip but his look softening slowly. Scraptrap immediately filled the threshold of the door, big green-yellow ears pricked on him and he purred softly in question.
"Gimmie a hand, Scrap." Max said, but his tone was lighter. "Mike gave us a job to do."
Even better, he had given him recognition for it. Now that, that was something. The concept may still hurt, but Max understood Freddy a little better now.
Anyone think it was Springtrap they'd found? Good guess! But it seems Afton isn't about to come barging in, and anyway, Last Shift does loosely follow FNAF6's events. The first animatronic you salvage is Molten Freddy. ;)
