Mable: Here we are with the next chapter! And just in time for the new year, it seems. ^-^ Nothing like ending the year with a new chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Can't Go Home Again
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Mike woke slowly and groggily rubbed his face before looking to the clock. Four in the morning; much too early to be awake. Yet he was and he slowly dragged himself out of bed. His mind was foggy as he stumbled out of bed, and he wanted to go back to sleep. Something kept him from going back to sleep, though, and a shadow suddenly passed the window. He only barely noticed it out of the corner of his eye and, once realizing that something was outside, he moved closer and lifted the window open.
He was immediately met with the melody of music box chiming from outside. It didn't take long for him to see the source of the music. The black and white figure stood out against the snowy backyard. He turned in soft circles, spinning lightly and barely brushing along the snow that had accumulated on the ground beneath him. Confusion appeared in full as he saw the puppet's actions outside his bedroom windows. It almost looked like he was… Dancing?
It seemed like a weird assumption, but Marionette was moving like he was dancing. From the soft twisting of his body, to moving his arms in slight, floated motions, to the constant, rhythmic circles above the snow. The music also supported this fact, and Mike recognized the song as the one that had played down in the Ballora Gallery. Being that it was so late, he wasn't too worried about Marionette being seen. However, this was too odd to just ignore. Pulling on his uniform jacket, the one the puppet mended, he headed out of the bedroom.
Being outside in the middle of the night, in the cold, with little more than nightclothes and a jacket wasn't exactly comfortable, but Mike was strung along. His head still felt fogged and he couldn't rouse himself the rest of the way. He shook it off as he walked around the house. Marionette didn't notice him step into the backyard at first. He only noticed him after a few seconds, which gave Mike long enough to take a closer look at the scenario. The music cut off and Marionette stared at the watching human.
"…I could think of a better time to go dancing, but hey, whatever winds you up," Mike spoke with a slight smirk. After all, he did basically catch the puppet in an odd scenario. It wasn't as though he expected anyone to see him at this hour. Especially since Mike was supposed to be in bed hours beforehand.
"I hope I didn't wake you," Marionette responded. "It's just such a beautiful night. I needed to take the chance while I have it; the snow can't last forever." He spun in a delighted fashion. Mike had never seen Marionette willingly dance. Come to think of it, the only time he had ever seen Marionette dance period was back in the Ballora Gallery. Maybe he was singing, or chiming, the familiar tune to help himself dance?
"Nah, I woke up on my own," Mike took a quick glance along the fence, making sure nobody was peering over it. He then looked back to the striped animatronic to see that he was holding out a hand. "…What?"
"Dance with me?" Marionette offered with an eager tone. Mike gave him a look questioning his seriousness. "You're awake. You're here. Dance with me."
This all just seemed a little too strange. "Okay…" Mike slowly went along with it; taking Marionette's warm hand and moving in. "But if we're dancing then we should be doing actual dancing," he gave a playful smile and slid in closer, taking his other hand and placing it on his own shoulder. He then placed his hand on Marionette's shoulder, "Like this."
"And then we…?" Marionette coaxed out. He was already beginning to chime Ballora's song, but was able to speak while doing it.
Mike sent him a small smile. Something was just so innocent in Marionette's eagerness. It was just dancing, yet he was so insistent in wanting to do it. It wasn't like the security guard could complain, especially when his mind was clouded and easily encouraged. "Just follow my lead…"
Mike awoke with a start and instantly fiddled around on the nightstand for his phone, which was loudly playing the Toreador March. He didn't even have a moment to wake up before he was expected to react like normal. "Hello?" he grumbled into the cell phone. He knew he hadn't gotten enough sleep just by how slow he felt.
"Hey! You sound awful," Fritz pointed out. There was some clicking on the other side of the phone.
"I've had better mornings," Mike clarified as he glanced at the clock. It was nine-thirty in the morning, which meant he had slept at least a few hours. Thankfully, he didn't have to get up for the Pizzeria today, which meant that he had some time to recover. "I haven't seen you for a few days. How was Christmas?"
"Pretty good! I- Uh… I had a date. It was the first time since Dinah that I've been out on a real date, so that was something." There was a louder click, like something being clicked into place.
"Congrats. Anyone I know?" Mike asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to rouse himself further. It was only now that he realized he had been laying on top of the covers instead of under them. Slowly the dream from last night decided to resurface and he was filled with confusion, "What kind of dream was that?"
"Maybe… It's a long story. I won't bore you over the-," he cut off with a huff of annoyance. "Damn it…" Before Mike could even ask, a second voice filtered over the phone.
"Hello. You seem to be trying to access my mainframe. Access to the Handyman's Robotics and Unit-Repair System's programming is withheld unless you have clearance. Please enter the four-digit password to continue."
"No, I'm pretty sure I haven't met her, but she sounds like a catch," Mike remarked with amusement. He could hear Fritz groan again over the line and sat upwards to climb off the bed. "Is that the HandUnit you've been working on? You finally got it to turn on?"
"Yeah, but I wish I didn't," Fritz muttered. "I can't even open the back of this without it instantly locking itself up. I can't even begin to imagine how paranoid someone has to be to basically lock a tape recorder behind a four-number password."
"1987?" Mike immediately suggested. There was a pause, a tapping noise, and a response.
"Incorrect passcode. Please try again."
"Didn't work, and there's no way to log into this thing the normal way," he explained. "See, when it pulls up the numbers its fine, but when it pulls up the keyboard for login it's just a mess… Not that my name would respond, but I know one or two that might." There was a creaking noise as the technician leaned back in his seat. "So, I'm stuck with this… And I've been thinking a lot."
"About?" Mike glanced down and only now noticed that he was wearing his jacket. Sharp realization hit him. "Last night really happened." He had stood in the backyard, in the snow, in the middle of the night, dancing. "What in the-?"
"About that letter…" Fritz's voice grew more quiet. "Maybe whoever sent that knows more about all of this. Maybe they'd be able to get into this and get the information out. I mean, I could start listening through our box of tapes, but I doubt I'm going to find another adequate code."
"If they're smart, they're not going to have the code be-." Mike had been distracted by his revelation, so it took a moment to sink in. Then the words that Fritz said suddenly clicked. "You're not going over there, are you?" There was silence. "Come on, Fritz. That letter was as shady as they come. It's probably just some guy from Afton's who wants to silence a few loose ends."
"I know, I know. I just wish he'd at least send a second letter or something. Maybe give me a name I could use or something…" There was a tapping over the phone, like maybe a pen or something similar. "He said he knew me. That means something, you know? I'm still going by Sam everywhere else. He had to know me before the name change."
"To be honest, it wasn't that much of a name change either," Mike prodded. Maybe trying to lighten the mood, maybe trying to point out the obvious. "I'll look through some of Fredrick's files and see what he has. If Freddy's was connected at all to Afton's, which it was, then there's a chance that Freddy himself has a way in." He paused a moment, "…And if not, we're going to have a hell of a time guessing."
"Kill me now," Fritz added in. He set the HandUnit aside on the desk and dragged the letter closer. "I'm taking a break. You want to meet up somewhere later?" Considering memory of the night before, Mike thought it would be good to get out of the house a little while.
"Sounds good to me. Maybe coffee. I need as much coffee as I can get," Mike suggested. It was only a few moments more before the two hung up. However, Mike didn't feel any better with the new plan, and he couldn't tell if it was because of Fritz still dwelling on the letter or because of something else. With a slow exhale, he changed his clothes and his bandage. From the look of the stab wound, and how closed it was, it didn't seem like he would need to keep the bandage on much longer. Even now this was more a precaution than a need.
As Mike wandered into the kitchen to turn on the coffee, he noticed that the TV was on and paused on the Fredbear cartoon. Marionette, however, was nowhere to be seen. With nothing better to do, his put the show on to have some sort of background noise. The scene that came onto screen was unusual and unlike the normal Fredbear and Friends fair.
Fredbear was lying in bed talking to Bonnie, with a wrapped middle and looking like he was injured. They seemed to have been talking for a while, as Freddy was mid-sentence. It immediately came to Mike that this was the season that Marionette did not watch. From what Mike knew in passing about the show, and what he had seen, the show went from being about the day to day life and morals of Fredbear and his gang to becoming an adventure based cartoon with a darker plot. Or as dark as a talking group of animals could manage.
The puppet clearly didn't enjoy this change and refused to watch these episodes. Which meant that Mike found it odd that it was clearly on this elusive season. Mike was awake, Marionette was missing, and the TV was on something that neither would really care to watch. And Mike still remembered everything that happened last night. "What was I doing before bed, shots?" he mentally asked himself as he focused on the episode.
"You could've been seriously hurt, Man," Bonnie pointed out in concern. "I can't believe Chipper would do this to you!"
"It's not Chipper's fault. He's being controlled by the Count of Midnight," Fredbear excused with exhaustion on his voice. "But it's okay. We managed to get Beatrix back, so that's all that matters."
"Yeah, but… You matter too, Freddy," Bonnie insisted. "What am I going to do if I lose my best bud?"
"Then Max'll have to take my place. He's the one with the gift, after all," Fredbear explained. Bonnie looked down, not satisfied with this answer.
"I swear, if I ever see that guy I'm gonna-!" he cut off with a sigh and sat down in the chair beside the bed. "I'll tell you what, buddy. I'm going to stay here and keep an eye on you why you get rested." The bunny smiled while the bear reclined on the pillows.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Bon," Fredbear closed his eyes while Bonnie lifted his guitar and began to lightly strum.
Mike stared at the screen blankly, "What even am I watching?" It was sort of amusing to see the cartoon try and be serious. Especially with characters who Mike had previously seen do a remake of the Christmas Carol. He set the remote down and looked down the hallway toward Marionette's bedroom. Curious, he headed down to his room and nudged the cracked door open. Marionette was kneeling on the floor while stitching on one of his Freddy plush dolls. Though he immediately stopped what he was doing and looked to the human.
Unlike Mike, who was feeling a little awkward about the night before, Marionette greeted him with his usual smile. "Good morning!" If anything, Marionette seemed a little more perky than usual.
"Morning. Are you busy?" Honestly Mike couldn't tell. Marionette had his sewing kit out, which would suggest 'yes', but he also had his Christmas music box on, which would suggest 'no'. Regardless, Marionette's answer was the same.
"No. I was just mending Freddy. I'm free," he closed the music box and set Freddy aside. He had a Bonnie plush already out and sat them alongside each other before raising off the floor. "Is something wrong?"
Of course, Mike could verbally voice his confusion about last night, and how odd it was, but suddenly he found his nerve cave. There was no point in making this weird. All it would do is shake their friendship, and that was the last thing that he wanted. "Just a little worried about Fritz. He's spending too much time in that warehouse, so we'll be meeting up later… You don't know any sort of four number code that would be in a HandUnit, do you?" It seemed like it was worth a shot.
"1987?"
"Didn't work."
"1983?"
"I can suggest that… What happened in 1983?" Mike couldn't help but cringe at the thought. "Actually, don't tell me. I think I can live without another Springlock suit story." Though unlike what he was saying, he did feel a nagging curiosity.
Marionette brushed it off, "I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. I don't recall whatever happened in 1983, but, whatever it was, it was a big enough event that I remember the date." He gave an amused chime. "I could try getting into the HandUnit without a password. I have a way with electronics."
"Then that'll do. Though it's going to be a shame if we crack that open and find fifty tapes on how to properly manage a night shift," Mike pointed out as he turned and stepped out of the room. The puppet eagerly followed him and, for a moment, Mike second guessed his decision to not talk about the night. Then he shrugged it off and continued on.
Fritz knew he was making a big mistake. He knew this and yet he still opened his car door and stepped out.
The house was small and didn't look interesting in any significant way. It was made of brick and rather small. The windows were blocked with both blinds and iron bars. The iron bars were especially odd considering that it was such a good neighborhood. Even now, he could see a group of five young kids playing in the snow while a man watched. Not a dangerous area in the slightest. Fritz slowly wandered towards the front door and stepped up the small, cement ramp. His hand gripped tightly on the cold, metal bar that made up the railing and stared at the front door.
This was it. This would change everything in some significant way. With a slow inhale, Fritz knocked on the door and waited for a response. No doorbell, no doorknocker, just wood to knock against and hope that somebody heard him. For a few seconds, there wasn't a response and he began to knock again. Then came footsteps and Fritz took a step back. He watched the door and waited for it to open.
The person hesitated on the other side of the door. He guessed peering through the peephole in the door. Whoever it was, they could probably recognize him. If not, then he was clearly wearing the Freddy's technician hat that most technicians would wear. That was something, considering that the person suggested that they knew about Freddy's. Then the door slowly started to open and he could see the writer of the letter.
First came the shock, then came the questions, and it ended with a sudden realization. He did know this person and he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Marionette was not as awake as he let on. By noontime, he was clearly starting to lag, and Mike was becoming more amused by it ever second. The puppet seemed reluctant to go back to sleep, and Mike wondered if he had slept at all the night before. He vaguely remembered winding the box, but if Marionette had woken right after it went off then he wouldn't have gotten much time at all. He had just been wired the night before, in a possibly literal way.
"I'm calling Fritz to see if he's ready to meet somewhere," Mike pointed out as he got out his cell phone. "Maybe you should get some sleep. I can wind your box." Marionette tapped his fingers on the table, but didn't seem fully convinced into doing so. "Or you can stay awake and watch whatever's going on in there," Mike gestured to the television. He couldn't help but be amused at how Marionette face flickered from tired smile to complete disinterest. "We could rewatch that episode where Foxy gets a girlfriend."
"God, no," Marionette verbally dismissed. Mike couldn't help but snicker; Marionette was rarely so absolutely turned away by something. "It's hard enough watching Foxy flirt in person."
"Then why exactly has the tape been running through?" Mike curiously inquired. He was clearly suppressing a small smile, so Marionette knew the wrong answer would lead to only more laughter.
"Because I like when Fredbear and Bonnie are together," he admitted. "They're very good friends… It sort of reminds me of us. Except, you know, we live together." The human quipped a brow at the explanation. It made enough sense, he supposed. Fredbear and Bonnie seemed close enough, from what Mike had seen in passing glances of the show. Marionette stretched with a soft chime. "I might return to my box."
He slipped out of his chair as Mike started to dial Fritz, "I'll be there in a second." After a few rings, Fritz answered, "Hey, it's me. I've got the time if you want to meet somewhere." Fritz was strangely quiet on the other side. Then he spoke.
"Mike, you've got to get over here. You're not going to believe this. The address on the letter, do you have it?"
Mike's brows furrowed in alarm, "Have it? Of course I don't have it. You never gave it to me." There was a quiet second. "You went over there, didn't you?" His voice went flat as he heard Fritz give a quiet 'well' as a response. "I can't leave you alone for a minute."
"It was stupid, I'll admit, but this… You got to see this. Here, I'll give you the address. Do you have a pen and paper?" Fritz seemed rather determined while Mike gave a defiant huff and got his notepad and paper.
"Can't you just tell me now and save me the trip?" Mike asked with lingering hesitance. He wasn't exactly willing to play guessing games.
"No. You have to come here, Mike. You'll understand when you get here," Fritz insisted. He then rattled out the directions that the security guard jotted down. "You got it?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there."
"We'll be waiting for you," Fritz finished and ended the call. Mike groaned and folded the paper to take with him, slipping it in his jacket pocket. He then headed into Marionette's bedroom. "Change of plans. I need to go find Fritz and make sure he's not being held at gunpoint, so expect me to come home either injured, bored, or both," Mike laid out.
Marionette was already in his box, but he raised a bit at the information. "Should I stay awake?" Mike only considered this for a second before shaking his head.
"Don't worry about it. Fritz sounded fine on the phone and you need some sleep," Mike stated a bit more confidently. He lifted the normal music box and got in position. "Ready?" Marionette didn't know if he was fully willing to let his guard down, but slowly lowered down into the box. The box was wound and music started to fill the room. The box flaps closed and Mike set the music box down, and turned off the bedroom light as he left. He was sort of glad to leave Marionette in his box; at least he didn't have to worry about him.
Soon Mike was in the car and driving to the address in question. Part of him felt an exhilaration at knowing that he was about to face something important. Whether it was answers or just someone who also worked at Freddy's. However, there was also a hesitance, and he had a suspicion that it was connected to the wound he had been nursing since ARI. If he was going to have to face something dangerous, he would've preferred to have been healed first. He couldn't tell if he was back to full speed again or not.
He saw Fritz's car before he realized he was at the address. Pulling beside it in front of a closed garage, Mike studied the house for a few moments before getting out. One of the things that stood out the most was the security camera beside the door. He watched it as he approached the front door and, without a hesitation, let himself in. The house was smaller on the inside than he expected. The living room itself was dark and somewhat bare of furniture. An armchair and a couch were sat off in front of a small TV.
There was a side table, a small entertainment area, a house plant; mostly the basics. That was, except for a few red flags. Firstly, this was the only furniture in the living room, and the spot between the chairs and the nearby kitchen, which he could see from the light, was completely barren of furniture. Two cats sat on the couch. One was entirely bald and the second was large and overly fluffy, and both stared him down. Dragging his eyes away from them, Mike stared at the walls and found more signs of something amiss.
There was a map pinned on the wall that was marked with pins. He couldn't tell what the marks meant, unless it had something to do with the Freddy locations. The two marks looked very close to the pizzeria's and the diner's locations. There was also a bookcase filled entirely with tapes marked by dates and the occasional singular word. Mike studied them in the dark and could only be alarmed by how many they were. He wondered if they were also connected to the pizzeria. Or worse, connected to Afton's, because then there was a possibility of blackmail.
"Blackmail only works when you've got something worth blackmailing over," Mike reminded himself. "Last time I checked, I was broke." With a slight smirk for a second, he stood and turned towards the kitchen. He could hear Fritz prattling on inside, talking about how the Pizzeria was fairing, and the security guard crossed over and stepped inside.
The kitchen was much smaller than the living room. It was barely a room period; with a tiny table against the wall, two chairs, and a cramped space of a sink, fridge, and stove. Fritz was sitting at the table, chatting like he was standing at a watercooler shooting the breeze. Then there was his companion, the owner of the house, who was standing off to the side pouring a mug of what looked like coffee. "Mike," Fritz announced as he suddenly noticed him. "Hey, I didn't hear you come in."
The man was perhaps both the last thing he expected to see and the most understandable example of someone who worked at Freddy's. From the moment, Mike drew his attention onto the man, he could see how disheveled he looked. He might have not shaved that morning, or that week, and his hair looked like it came straight out of the bed and was untouched. This aside, there was an obvious pair of marks on each of his cheeks. At first Mike thought they were odd indentions, but after seeing the rest he realized these were scars.
As he poured the coffee, his hands were shaking like mad. They had a few crisscrossing scars along them too, but must have been deeper as they had a pinkish tinge making their path. From the way he was shaking, it was surprising that he could keep the coffee in the mug. Then he turned to face Mike in attention and it was now that he noticed his right leg. It was clearly a prosthetic from what parts stuck out from under the pant leg. The scars, the fake leg, the shaking; definitely a guy who had worked at Freddy's.
He just looked exhausted. Older than both Fritz and he, though he couldn't tell by how much, and like he hadn't slept in days. Which was remarkable as his hair gave the illusion that he never got out of bed. This man was not the threatening possibility that lent itself to the note. Mike knew then that there were no threatening intentions; this didn't look like the kind of person who could attack them both.
"This is Mike Schmidt. He's the one I was telling you about, who owns the Pizzeria with Jeremy and I," Fritz quickly introduced in a rehashing fashion. "He was the one who kept coming back." That was Mike's only lot in life and he was fine with agreeing to it. The man set his things aside and limped forwards.
"It's nice to meet you. You- You know, you don't see a lot of people who go back and, uh, make it out. It's just, greater odds are against something eventually going wrong, so that's amazing."
Mike took his hand, but almost immediately went rigid. He stared at the man as though he had just bluntly told him off, completely shocked at the comment. It wasn't the comment that took him aback though. He quickly glanced to Fritz who was watching and assumed that his silence was confirmation. "Yeah, you can only lose power so many times before Freddy actually makes it in before six."
The man gave a light, maybe forced, chuckle. "I think everyone gets there at least once. They just- most of them don't stay." That was all he needed to hear to be certain. As the man turned to get the coffee, Mike voiced his observation.
"I know you," he pointed out, as though he was shocked by his own words. The man looked slight alarmed as well by the way he abruptly looked over. Mike pointe to him as he clarified, "You left me tapes for my first week." His eyes widened as it fully sunk in, "I thought you were-!" ironically enough, there was more than one option that he could end this sentence with. Though one was more prominent than the other; he wasn't supposed to be standing there speaking to them.
Mike cut off as he suddenly accessed over the voice, the shakiness, and the missing limb. It would take something traumatic to cause this much damage, and Mike already had a suspicion of what did it. Or Mike knew exactly what did it, because the voice had given it away long ago.
This disheveled man was the elusive and very much alive Phone Guy.
Mable: That moment when you realize that Fritz's flashback was important to the plot. It's an odd moment, might make you question which flashbacks are important and which aren't. Or, at least, I hope this is the reaction that was brought around. XD Something like that. Anyway, the next chapter will be posted next Saturday. I hope everyone enjoyed and have a happy New Year!