Many, many years ago…
"That thing is creepy as shit."
Mark gazed at the animatronic that Fredbear's faithful security guard, Michael, was fiddling with, half smiling and half grimacing. Unlike most animatronic characters that the company put out, this one wasn't an animal. It was a little boy with a gaping grin and rosy cheeks, a character that more resembled a childish clown than a cute kid. The other animatronics might seem adorable to some people, but even the most hardcore Fredbear fanatic would probably shy away from the robotic boy.
Michael didn't even look up, but a slight smirk played on the edge of his lip as he attached a few more wires.
"I don't design these things, Mark," he sighed. "I just get 'em up and running."
"Why do they send 'em to you?" asked Mark, fiddling around a bit with the golden head of his Spring-Fredbear costume. "You're a security guard."
"'Cause I do good work and they don't have to pay me as much," grunted Michael. "Don't worry about Balloon Boy here…"
"Balloon Boy? Really? That's its name? Real creative…"
"I don't name 'em either. This little guy's not staying around. Once he's all programmed up he's getting shipped to the new Fazbear place."
"They're getting all the scary ones," chuckled Mark.
"Hey, we've got that Puppet thing. I'd say that makes us tied," Michael said, gesturing towards the open door. Although Fredbear's had been open for several hours no children had showed up yet, and thus the purple-clad security guard and his friend felt secure in leaving the door to the employee's only area open. It got stuffy when the door was shut, and since there was no danger of some brat rushing in and breaking everything both security guard and performer had decided to enjoy the air while they could.
Indeed, Michael had been tasked with programming and fixing up almost all of the new animatronics. Since the security guard lived only one city away from where the new restaurant was going to open and since he was known for being very good with machines-especially robotics-the company had ordered him to make sure that their newest attractions would be ready for the grand opening. Michael couldn't in all honesty say he was only too happy to help, but at least tinkering with the animatronics was a little fun and gave him something to do other than stand around Fredbear's waiting for something to go wrong.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," sighed Mark, "Well, are you gonna help me into this suit or what?"
He held the Spring-Fredbear head out towards Michael, who still didn't look up.
"Once I finish with the little guy," replied the guard. "Hey, where's James?"
"Dunno," answered Mark. "Probably in the back, havin' a smoke."
"This is a fucking kid's restaurant, he shouldn't be smoking."
"Ouch! Well, this is a fucking kid's restaurant. You shouldn't be swearing."
"Touché," chuckled Michael. "There!"
"Done?"
"Think so. Lemme just test it out…"
He flicked a switch and the animatronic's eyes lit up. Mark cringed as Balloon Boy stood up straight and waved to him.
"Creeeepy…" whispered Mark, timidly waving back. He had learned long ago that the animatronics became a bit upset when he acted aloof and didn't respond to their interactions. Nobody was supposed to be mean or distant at a Fredbear establishment.
When Balloon Boy attempted to speak, however, a garbled mess was the only sound that emerged from his throat.
"Damn," hissed Michael, hastily switching Balloon Boy off so that the ear-piercing noise wouldn't make them all go deaf.
"Ow, what happened?" asked Mark, rubbing his ears.
"The voice box is fine, but the audio must have gotten corrupted," Michael replied, "Gonna have to record something fast. The truck'll be here to pick this one up in a few hours."
"Record something?"
"Can you do a good kid's voice?" asked Michael with a smirk. Mark scowled and opened his mouth, but before he could respond he heard a little bell ring. Both he and Michael glanced up. That was the sound of the door opening.
"Mark…" said Michael.
"I've got it," said Mark. He was about to close the door so that whatever kid had walked in wouldn't be temped to run into the employee's only area, but when he looked out and saw the particular child that had arrived he smiled.
"Oop! Not a customer! Hey, Henry! Your dad's over here!"
At hearing the name of his youngest and favorite son, Michael's smirk turned into a fond smile. He stood up and stretched his stiff limbs just as Henry scurried into the room. The five year-old gave his father's leg an affectionate squeeze before stepping back. Henry was absolutely beaming, and Michael noticed that he was clutching something in his left hand.
"Hey, kiddo," said Michael, tousling the boy's hair. "What's that in your hand?"
Henry wordlessly held out his hand towards his father and opened his palm, revealing the item he was clutching: a tooth.
"No way, it came out?" chuckled Michael. Henry nodded.
"That's your first one, isn't it?" asked Mark. Henry nodded again.
"I just lost it today," said Henry. Henry's voice was always quiet-he was a demure and polite boy by nature and thus when he spoke it was never in a high-pitched or loud manner-but there was a slight squeak in his tone that Michael recognized as his squeak of excitement.
Cute.
"Just today? You didn't pull it, did you?" asked Michael.
"Ah ah," said Henry. "I did wiggle it a bunch after lunch, though, and then it popped out. I almost swallowed it!"
"Well, good thing you didn't! Teeth don't taste good," said Michael. "Did you bleed?"
"Uh huh. I had'ta go to the nurse's."
'Did it hurt?"
"Mm hm."
"Did you cry?"
"Uh huh. I cried for a whole class!"
Mark snorted. "Well, at least you're honest, Henry."
"Henry doesn't lie," said Michael with a touch of pride. "He's a good boy."
Henry glanced down at his slightly-muddy sneakers, as though embarrassed by the praise.
"Let me see," said Michael, holding out his palm. The child dropped the tooth into his father's hand and Michael examined the little white square.
"Nice," he said with a nod. "Smile, Henry."
Henry gave a wide grin.
"I's wa' in th' back, Da'dy…" Henry mumbled, gesturing back towards the little hole in his smile.
"Very nice," said Michael, handing the tooth back to Henry. "You look just fine, and I think that's a very valuable tooth you've got there. Gonna give it to the Tooth Fairy?"
"Ah ah," said Henry with a shake of his head. Michael's smile faltered.
"Oh? Why not?"
"Lucas says there's no such thing as the Tooth Fairy," replied Henry. Michael felt a flare of anger. Damn Lucas. His eldest son always felt the need to make Henry's world a little less magical.
"Is that right?" said Michael. "Well, you can't always believe what Lucas says, Henry. He can be really stupid."
"I guess…but I still don't wanna give it to the Tooth Fairy, even if Lucas is wrong. I wanna keep it as a memory."
The child closed his hand around his precious first tooth and drew it close to his chest. Michael's smile widened again.
"Really?" said Michael with a chuckle. "Good boy, Henry. Not greedy. Most kids always give up their teeth. Tell ya' what: on my way home later I'll stop by the store and get you a little box or something so you can keep it safe. I take it you'll want a yellow one?"
Henry's eyes gleamed eagerly and he nodded. Yellow, Michael knew, was Henry's absolute favorite color.
Just above purple, and Michael had a feeling that Henry only proclaimed purple to be his second-favorite color because that was the color of his father's uniform.
But Michael would try to find a yellow box first, and if all else failed Henry would be more than happy if his father managed to find a purple one instead.
Michael glanced over Henry's shoulder and when Lucas failed to sulk in he scowled.
"Henry…where's Lucas? Did he bring you here?"
Henry's smile became a bashful frown as he shook his head.
"No," mumbled the boy. "I was excited because of my tooth and I really wanted to show you. I kept waiting and waiting, but Lucas didn't show up to get me, so I ran here by myself."
"Then Lucas is in big trouble," grunted Michael. "He must have been out with his friends again. I told him to pick you up and walk you either here or home. Big trouble, Lucas…"
He sighed and sat down beside Balloon Boy once more.
"And Henry," said Michael sternly, "if that happens again and he doesn't pick you up, I don't want you running here by yourself. You're too young and it's too far from your school. Have your teacher call me here if Lucas doesn't pick you up and I'll come get you. Never walk by yourself, okay? It's not safe."
"Sorry, Daddy," muttered Henry in a timidly repentant tone.
"It's okay, I'm not mad at you," Michael assured him. "Just your brother."
"Your daddy's just worried, Henry," said Mark. "He doesn't want some creep to hurt you when you're all alone. That right, Mike?"
"That's right," confirmed Michael. His eyes wandered down to Balloon Boy and a smile came to his face.
"Say, Henry," he said to his son, "you wanna get paid?"
Henry tilted his head curiously to the side. "Paid?"
"Since you're not gonna sell your tooth to the Tooth Fairy," Michael explained, "you should get money some other way. I need your voice, and I'll give you ten dollars if you come over here and help me out."
Ten dollars must have seemed like a trillion to a boy as young as Henry. He grinned eagerly and ran to his father's side.
"What do you need me to do?" he asked, glancing down at Balloon b\Boy and squirming slightly. No doubt he agreed with Mark's claim that the childish animatronic was more frightening than lovable.
"Here," said Michael, opening up the animatronic's throat, "I just need you to lean real close. When I say 'talk', you say something and I'll record it. You get to be the new voice of Balloon Boy."
"Me? Uhm…what do I say?"
"Anything. Just make it sound cute. Shouldn't be too hard for you," said Michael.
"And don't say any bad words," chuckled Mark, giving the boy a little wink.
"Henry doesn't and shouldn't use bad words even when I'm not recording him, Mark," said Michael. "Now you be quiet. It's Henry's turn to talk."
Henry leaned close and Michael hit the record button.
"Hi!" chirped Henry. He leaned away from Balloon Boy and Michael stopped the recording.
"That was it?" he chuckled in a playfully-angry manner. "Oh, come on! You can do better than that! Once more, come on!"
He hit the record button again.
"Hello," said Henry shyly before leaning back.
"Oh, pathetic!" laughed Michael, turning off the recording. "I did not raise you to be this uncreative! Come on, say something interesting!"
"Don't wanna!" giggled Henry shyly, putting his hands over his mouth and shaking his head.
"Well, Mike," chortled Mark, "if you wanna get your ten bucks' worth you might have to tickle him until he says something exciting!"
"Mark!" Henry cried as though he had been betrayed, but Michael grabbed the boy.
"Too late! Mark! When I tickle, you record!"
"Got ya' covered!" said Mark with a teasingly evil laugh, holding his hand above the recorder.
"Come on, Henry!" chuckled Michael, giving his son's side a tickle, "Say something!"
Henry didn't say a word. He just laughed, and his joyful laugh became Balloon Boy's once Mark hit 'record'.
And thus, that is the origin of Balloon boy's voice…and why Springtrap always follows it.
I have to admit, writing pre-psychotic Purple Man is a little odd, but I hope I did it well enough. He's definitely not a wonderful, fantastic, perfect human being, but he's not a monster. Not yet, at least.
Special thanks to Valkyrie of Hel (yes, you were right), Fallen-Ryu (good point! That game crash in game 1 nearly broke both my mind and my computer), KuraiFriend (you're the first one to notice and point it out :D ) and Fabro de Verbis (indeed they are! I appreciate yours!)
I'm feeling pretty down in the dumps right now because I'm moving to a new place and it's hard. Real homesick. Reviews would be greatly appreciated at this time. They always make me feel better.
Let me know what you think!