Mable: You don't want to know about my week. XD This chapter shouldn't have been so late, but I had to hold back and rewrite some of the stuff I wrote when I was half awake.

We got another question, this time from CA who was wondering the ages of the security guards.
I try to keep the exact year a little open, but Mike's in his early twenties, as is Natalie, and both Jeremy and Fritz are in their mid-twenties. Technically, Mike would be the youngest of them, if not counting the animatronics' ages.

Without further ado, let us begin! Enjoy!

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Sixty

So many people. So many eyes staring. Not one of them suspected that they were walking past something living.

Mike couldn't help but feel the thrill. He was like a child with his hand in the cookie jar, if the joy was the risk of getting caught and not the cookie. Marionette was much more uneasy, but he couldn't help but stare eagerly at the stalls and the rides of the fair. He hadn't been to one of these since he was very young and all those years only added up. Even when they got many spectators, staring blatantly and occasionally even slowing down, he was much too happy to even suggest going back. Not that he really could; he had to stay still.

Thankfully, all the eyes did their job. He didn't think he could move even if he wanted to and could only allow himself to partially move along with Mike's own coaxing. It was obvious that Mike was much less worried. If anything, he didn't seem like he was rushing to find anything to eat as he started to scrutinize the stalls. Eventually he did settle at one extravagant one that toted it would 'fry anything, anywhere, anytime'. Regardless of Mike's seeming disinterest in friend foods earlier, he caved to the carnival.

It was here that he faced his first challenge of the evening. A father and a couple of young children approached the booth as well. It was all that he could stand to not immediately slip into the mindset of being an entertainer. It was almost as though it was programming, gnawing at him and telling him to tend to them. Yet he resisted, even when they were clearly looking at him interest. The children pointed him out to their father and asked typical questions; mostly what he was and eventually the expected question asking where he was 'won'.

Indeed, Marionette looked like a prize by the way he was strung and fully under the control of someone else. It was almost maddening, but not quite yet. Not unless they had to spend more time at this stall, listening to Mike slowly turn down everything that the two men running the stall were listing through.

"Now on paper, pickles and bananas don't seem to go together, but they've been our best seller this year," the one man insisted with a completely straight face. "If you want, we could give you a free sample."

"I think I'd rather scrape this toxic plaster off my face and deep fry it," Mike blatantly said. The stall runner laughed as though they thought this was a joke, even though Mike was also saying this with a completely straight face. Then he pulled back from the counter, "Hold on." Hooking his foot around the base of the stand, he turned the Puppet towards the children before grasping the pole again and turning back to the seller. "Just give me whatever you have that won't immediately give me a heart attack."

Marionette didn't know if Mike was giving him the go ahead to interact with the children or just turning him to look at them, but he gave into his programming and reached forward to pat the closer child's head. The boy seemed startled by the motion, but didn't pull away or hide behind his father. Though, naturally, the moment that the children were comfortable enough to move in closer, their father suddenly seemed to notice what was happening and became visibly wary. As timing would have it, this was about the same time that Mike led him away.

But they still didn't return to the van. Marionette wasn't able to vocally remind Mike about Natalie and Foxy, but even if he would've reminded it would've been out of obligation. Part of him truly did want to keep wandering around and seeing everything. He could only imagine what this would look like at night; he could already envision the bright lights framing the booths and machines. It was a shame that he couldn't teleport this far or he would return once darkness fell.

"Is that a knock-off Freddy?" Mike suddenly asked, bringing Marionette back to the present. The Puppet's eyes scanned the area before landing on a nearby stall. If he wasn't so in control, he would've clearly showed some sort of shock. The plush toys hanging down from the top of a nearby stall clearly resembled Freddy Fazbear to a remarkable degree, though it was not authentic. Marionette had held most of the Fazbear plushes that had been in rotation and could immediately spot the differences.

"Yeah, that's knock-off Freddy. I'm sure he's rolling around in his grave knowing that the fairground is making money off what slightly resembles his face," Mike remarked in what was obviously a joke, but was flat enough to be bought as fake. It managed to be more genuine than the faux-Fazbear plush.

"…I think he would be flattered," Marionette quietly tried as he kept his voice as low as possible. "Then he would be furious." This got a chuckle out of Mike before he reached into his pocket for his wallet. Marionette gave a curious chime.

"I told you I was planning on winning you a bear, right?" Mike asked with an amused smile. "Why not a bear that probably legally belongs to us anyway?" He approached the stall, juggling the items and guiding the pole along with him. The stall itself seemed to be the standard dart throwing game and thankfully there wasn't any more questionable merchandise. The bundle of Freddys merely sat surround by a trio of blind mice resembling dolls; not a Foxy in sight. Which was a relief, as then Marionette would've become much more concerned.

Five dollars bought five darts. With a simple, "Hold my stick," Mike handed over the bizarre monstrosity on a stick- which may have been a banana at some point- to Marionette and prepared to throw. He wanted to encourage him, but again was limited. Unfortunately, the stall owner this time around was very interested in the Puppet. She looked at him with an odd sort of interest and was even willing to ignore Mike to study him. Perhaps she knew Freddy's; he hoped she didn't. He hoped that she was only interested because he was holding this deep fried, chocolate dipped confusion.

"Where'd you win this one?" the woman jokingly asked as she leaned on the counter and adjusted her glasses. She seemed like the typical grandmotherly type, or at least jovial. "She looks a little too big to be hanging on a wall."

"I've been asked that twice, actually," Mike remarked. He then paused long enough to throw three of the darts, popping three of the balloons. "He gets a lot of attention."

"I could imagine," the woman agreed. Now she directed her gaze to Mike's matching face paint.

Mike must've noticed her gaze as after he finished he made a point of explaining, "We just got off stage. Now we're blowing through our portion of the payment." He gestured up to the Freddy plush. "I'll take the bear."

"With five darts you get a small prize. To get a medium prize you need to hit no less than ten balloons. To upgrade to a large, you'll need fifteen." The look Mike shot the woman was priceless; as though he was baffled by the idea of paying for. He shot a brief look over at Marionette, gave a tired exhale, and dug back into his wallet.

"Sure, what's five more dollars?" Mike asked as he handed the money over. "Except for our gas money," he added in under his breath. Again, he was given five more darts and this time he decided to not engage in any conversation. Hitting the balloons was easy, but while Marionette was impressed, he could feel the budding annoyance. He couldn't help but be somewhat amused by it.

With the last balloon, Mike turned back to the woman. "There's ten." He had calmed down by now and seemed ready to take the plush and leave.

"Great, so now you have a medium prize," she began. "Top hat bear is a large, which means you just need five more." There was the dumbstruck look Marionette was expecting. He gave a light chime without thinking and the woman's head snapped to him. "Your little friend's making noises."

"He's got a built-in scam detector," Mike wanted to say. Instead, what came out was a still baffled, "Fifteen dollars?"

"You could trade out for one of the medium prizes if you'd like. This entire back row is medium prizes," the woman tried to pacify, seemingly unfazed by the man's reaction. "But where else are you going to find a bear this cute?"

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," Mike blatantly dropped against his better judgement. Thankfully, the woman either didn't know what he was talking about or had an excellent poker face. He sent an exasperated glance to Marionette, witnessed his poker face, and determined to just go along with it. If not for the knock-off Freddy, then for Marionette… Or the reactions that Fritz and Jeremy would have seeing this thing in person. "Alright, fine." He slapped down another five dollars. She turned away to get more darts and Marionette sympathetically offered the stick back.

One angry bite and a few mutters later and Mike was again popping balloons. By now there was a small group forming behind them, though they were more staring at the spectacle than waiting in line. With the last balloon, Mike gave a firm, "I want my bear."

"Congratulations!" the woman lightly praised as she reached upwards to unhook the plush. She then announced louder, "We have a winner!" like she was trying to assure that the game was winnable. Indeed, it was. Though Mike felt less like a champion and more like a chump. Fifteen dollars for what wasn't even legitimate merchandise; at least he had a conversation topic for the three-hour ride home. He took the bear and turned to leave, but almost immediately came face to face with the small group.

Silently, with growing confusion, Mike wheeled Marionette away from the stall. Once they got far enough away, he dared to speak, "What the hell was that?"

"I think it's what they call a bait and switch," Marionette quietly remarked, keeping an eye out. "Can we switch, by the way?" Mike stopped long enough to take the stick and hand over the bear, which Marionette clutched onto eagerly. It was bigger than most of the plush toys that he had worked with in the Prize Corner. He knew that the movement risked him being noticed, especially with all the people, but decided that small movements were probably passable.

"I meant that little mob that formed behind us. How long was that going on?" Mike's face suddenly crossed with alarm. "Nobody heard that Freddy comment, did they? That could get us in hot water."

"They were too busy waiting to see if you were going to miss the last throw and fly into a rampage," Marionette remarked back. Then they passed by a rather large family and Marionette decided to, instead of lowering his voice, try something a bit different. As though a faint whisper echoing in his head, Mike could hear the panging of a voice coming from the center of his mind. "I love when you get riled."

"Enjoy it why you can, because I'm never playing carnival darts again. Not unless there's money on the table," Mike responded quietly, vocally. It wasn't as though he was able to use any sort of telepathy. Though as Marionette chimed he could hear laughter inside of his head. Deep inside where it couldn't be droned out. With every word, it felt as though vibrations were spreading through the inside of his head; uncomfortable and new. He would have to get used to this.

He steered them back in the direction of the van. By now Natalie had to be back and waiting for them, and Mike didn't exactly want to stick around much longer. The dispute at the stall had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Stop," Marionette suddenly echoed. Mike came to an abrupt stop on a dime.

"What? What is it?" He looked around with an almost paranoid glint.

"Over there." Looking to Marionette's turned head, Mike followed his gaze to a small group beside another game stall. He couldn't recognize any of them.

"I don't know what you're pointing me at. Do you mean that guy in the back or…?" It was only at this moment that he realized the cryptic tone was not sent towards any person, but to the stall itself. Almost immediately his concern dropped to disinterest. "You're kidding me," he muttered as he noticed the multitude of beanie babies. He was starting to regret introducing him to the toys. "I seem to recall saying something about not letting this carnival eat any more of our money."

"But they're adorable! And so many- I could finally get that weasel I've been searching for," Marionette insisted. His eager voice chirped with the same chime on the inside that it did on the outside. Though something about the inward talking was starting to give Mike the slightest bit of a headache. "Please? I'll owe you, I promise." Thus, the favor system returned with a vengeance. Which was probably for the better, as by now Mike forgot who owed whom.

Though the offer was tempting enough, and from the prize selection it seemed like the beanie babies would be the 'small' prizes. "…Sure… Alright, yeah, you owe me," Mike agreed, with his previous tone turning to a more thoughtful one. Marionette didn't really know how to feel about Mike's tone; he may have unintentionally opened the door for any sort of request. He couldn't deny that he was curious regardless.

While the prize was an easier one, the stall itself toted a harder game. Instead of popping balloons with darts, which was relatively easy, the game involved throwing cork balls into a hole that was only slightly bigger. A little more difficult, but again he was basically trying to win the pity prize. A woman who looked to be in her twenties tended to them while the small group, which seemed to be a family, was addressed by a man of about the same age. She greeted them and began to eagerly recite the rules once Mike paid another four dollars.

"The rules are simple," the girl said in a bubbly tone. "You just try to get the ball into the hole. You get three shots to-." It was around this time that Mike started to hear dial-up noises in the back of his mind. At first, he considered that it could be his own boredom was literally manifesting itself into noise, but the more obvious solution was that it was Marionette unintentionally sending the noises telepathically.

Assuming that the Puppet simply didn't realize he was doing it, Mike reached out to his back and tapped him. Almost immediately, the noises died and Mike could focus on the woman. He believed the issue was fixed and assumed that the Puppet was annoyed at the stall or the woman for whatever reason. The woman handed over the three balls, stepped out of the way, Mike prepared his first throw-

-and someone cleared their throat behind him.

Mike turned back only to see none other than Glenn standing behind him. He didn't know which of them looks more surprised, but he certainly recovered faster than the older man. "Glenn, hey. I didn't see you at the stage," Mike remarked, trying to sound completely innocent. "I saw that Chipper was here, but I didn't think you came out on the field."

Glenn decided to skip the pleasantries and go straight to what had him dumbstruck. "What are you doing dressed like that out with…" His gaze lingered on the Puppet. He simply stared at it in disbelief and perhaps slight suspicion. He looked at him like he knew more than he let on. Mike preferred to play dumb if he could and, hopefully, avoid any further questioning.

"We just got off the stage and needed to stretch before our never-ending drive back south," Mike explained somewhat convincingly. "Speaking of which, could you hold this?" He offered the remaining half of his food. Instead, Glenn hooked an arm around him and pulled him in closer.

"Mike, what are you thinking? Doesn't that thing have a box?" Glenn asked in a jarringly scolding fashion. As though he was his boss, or Fredrick, or at least thought that Mike somehow didn't know any better. Between that and the surprising amount of offense that he felt when the word 'thing' dropped into the conversation. He was surprised that he couldn't hear Marionette's static, but somehow the animatronic suppressed it.

"Do I look like I'm just wearing this face paint for kicks? I'm playing puppeteer," Mike answered. He tried to keep his emotions bottled enough to not raise suspicion. "Look, Glenn, I know you and everyone else has some sort of paranoia about the Puppet-," he said as though he didn't entire understand the paranoia, "-but I'm trying to start a business and I'm taking whatever advertising I can get."

"I don't know if you realize what you're fooling around with," Glenn insisted, sending a glance back towards the Puppet. His gaze lingered there. "…Let's just say that I've heard horror stories."

"Not that you'd admit to them, right?" Mike snipped back. Glenn's face shot to a look of alarm yet again. "Of course, nobody has stories until they need to use them. You should know by now that I know what I'm doing." This was punctuated by a strange 'thunk' noise from behind.

"…Okay…" Glenn looked past him and then looked back. "…What about now?"

"What?" Mike looked back and there was Marionette, actively moving, grabbing for the second of the cork balls after having apparently thrown the first one. The security guard shoved the stick into Glenn's hand and smoothly shoved one hand on the pole and the other on the Puppet's back. Then he scrambled out a half-processed excuse. "I've got a Puppet, I ought to use it. You know, put on a show wherever you go. It's not hard to get him moving." Then he waited to see if any of them sunk.

To his immediate relief, it was apparent that the girl running the stall and the other people around the stall thought it was a performance. They were watching with interest, with smiles, thinking that this was all some sort of extravagant puppeteering act. Unfortunately, Mike really had no control, so as marionette took the next ball in hand he could only hope that the Puppet kept everything quiet enough to be buyable.

The second throw went again into the hole; Mike started to wonder if Marionette was partially cheating or if he secretly had the arm of a pitcher. Or if he was releasing frustration through throwing as hard as he could. That was also a possibility. After the final throw, Marionette dropped his arms down beside his sides and fell dormant again. Mike did a final once-over of the group. Everyone looked just as impressed as before… Except Glenn. Glenn's expression was simply blank and it was only now that Mike considered that this was a terrible mistake.

Because Glenn had every reason to suspect them. He knew about Freddy's, he knew about the Puppet, he probably knew about Afton's, and he probably knew others who knew how to keep secrets.

"What am I thinking? This is Glenn. Glenn can barely hide the disaster going on at Chipper's. He's not a threat. He's not Afton," Mike reassured himself. "As far as he's concerned, I'm just a guy whose way too invested in my animatronic… And that's not too far from the mark." He leaned forward on the stall, "You wouldn't by chance have a weasel floating around there, would you?" As she looked, Mike turned back to Glenn. "Everything's under control."

"I hope so…" Glenn kept his voice cautiously quiet. "Because if it's not, then you're playing with fire." He then offered back the stick.

"…I seem to remember there being something on that before I handed it to you," Mike pointed out as he took it.

"Something's a good word for it," Glenn stated. Mike had to admit that it was true, but he didn't have to like it. "Take care, Kid. If you're ever looking to buy fifty feet of metal piping, you'll know where I'll be." He patted him on the shoulder, turned, left a lingering look of wariness on the Puppet, and finally left. It was almost like he was spooked, being that he took off so quickly. Considering how deadly Marionette's fastball seemed to be, Mike didn't blame him. He did take this all as a sign that carnival time was over.

While there weren't any weasels, the woman managed to find an otter and a panther. Being in the general shape, Mike agreed to those and continued the walk back towards the car.

Once it seemed like they were mostly alone, Mike decided to whisper again. "Glenn's onto you."

"I know," Marionette admitted. "Do you think I would've risked it on anyone else? I would prefer he did see me… Considering how he handles his animatronics." His voice bubbled with growing anger. "Alive or not, he should take better care of them. I couldn't even imagine if they were alive- it's amusing to chortle and observe knowing that they are just mindless machines, but knowing that he treats his 'entertainers' with such little care… Perhaps he would do well knowing that someone is watching."

This was the first time Mike heard anything this cryptic on the subject. Before, Marionette had been amused by the disastrous show, and had shown no qualms in outwardly making jokes at the non-sentient animatronics. It seemed that the moment humans got involved, his tone grew bitter. Yet he was right. The thought of an animatronic kept in disarray, a living one- specifically Marionette- suddenly made Mike feel rather sick. He could imagine cracked porcelain and dusty fabric. It only made it worse when Mike considered how many years were unaccounted for.

There was a space between when Marionette worked at the old pizzeria and when he went with Fredrick. As of now, Mike had no idea how long that time was or what Marionette had been. He was almost afraid of the reaction, or answers, he would receive if he dared to ask. Thankfully, Marionette was instead distracted by the carousel as they started by. Even though it wasn't dark yet, the lights were already gleaming and the soft music spread along the ground like a wave of ocean water. Of course, only music could relax him, and he fell back into silence.

No static, no dialing, just a simple silence as they continued back to the van. Naturally, more people watched, but it was much less impactful. The earlier events had only proved that the vast majority of people wouldn't think of something suspicious. Normal people wouldn't just assume that the animatronics were haunted; Mike had been spending too much time dealing with people immediately connected with Freddy's.

Still, the tension did ease once they got to the van. Nobody was looking forward to a drive, but there was no further reason to wander around the crowd of people. The initial thrill had already worn off and was now replaced with a growing weariness. Chipper's group had already left the stage and were replace by a small band of guitar toting musicians. He could only expect that Glenn left extremely quickly after spontaneously running into him, which was probably for the best.

Mike opened the back of the van and Marionette set the prizes inside before detaching himself from the pole. Getting his strings out of his cross was a little more difficult and he found himself in a brief battle to untangle himself from it, all the while Mike just watched on with what looked like a budding smirk. Only once the Puppet was free did Mike continue with his actual job in taking the stand apart and loading it into the back of the van. When he went to shut the doors, he was abruptly stopped by Marionette's hand on his arm.

He had sent one look over towards the other side of the van- seeing Foxy seemingly asleep and Natalie distracted with something in the driver's seat- and assumed he could get away with it. Tugging Mike closer, he leaned upwards and briefly kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," he chimed.

"For the bear?" Mike half-guessed.

"For being such a wonderful puppeteer," Marionette clarified. He pulled him down further to briefly wrap his arms around him. The codeword didn't go over Mike's head; he knew that Marionette meant more than just 'puppeteer' from his wording.

"Couldn't have done it without you," Mike remarked as he briefly indulged in holding him close. It only occurred to him now how close they had been and yet how far they were kept apart. He spent the entire evening within arm's length, but he hadn't technically been able to hold him. Even now he was risking it. Who knew if Glenn was still wandering around in the tents somewhere. "Get some rest. We've got a long ride." He drew back and went to shut the doors.

Marionette felt an inward chirp in delight, before he looked over and his joy plummeted. There was Foxy, now very much awake and staring with a lack of emotion and the occasional twitch. He knew exactly what Foxy thought of them, what he was thinking now, and awkwardly fussed with the plushes. "…I thought you were asleep."

"I don't sleep anymore, Lad. Too much stuff happens when I ain't awake," Foxy snipped as he crossed his arms. "And you were?"

"Enjoying myself," Marionette slid closer, offering the faux Freddy plush. "And reuniting with some old friends." Foxy took one confused look at the Freddy before amusement took hold.

"Ah, there's a sight for sore eyes!" Foxy then whispered lower, "Bet 'ol Freddy be writhing in his grave."

Up front, Mike climbed into the passenger seat and sent a confused look towards Natalie. "I thought I was driving home."

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have anything to do if I wasn't driving," Natalie insisted. She didn't question where he was and instead was halfway finished with a donut. "I got the cash. I didn't count it, but it looks like it's all there, so if you're bored it's in the envelope." She gestured between the seats and started the van. "Everyone ready?"

"Aye."

"Alright! Time to head home!" Natalie threw the van into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. It didn't take long to be back on the highway and to be heading back home yet again.

"It's all here," Mike pointed out as he slipped the envelope into the glove compartment. "We'll put it in the safe while we're dropping off Foxy." This was a viable plan and Mike leaned back against the seat, staring out at the darkened mountains off in the distance. He exhaled tiredly and let his eyes close.

The next thing Mike knew, he was being roused by someone shaking his shoulder. "Mike? We're home," Marionette quietly explained, his hand squeezing his shoulder.

"We're here," Natalie clarified as well. "So, unless you want to sleep in the van, this is the end of the line." An amused smile passed her lips and he awkwardly looked out the window. Indeed, they were outside of the house.

"Damn, I don't even remember falling asleep…" It was a relief that he did, though as he started to sit upwards he felt a stiffness in his back. Not the best sleep he had gotten, but it helped kill the long drive. He shuffled upwards in the chair. "We took Foxy back?"

"I'll take him to the pizzeria. I don't think you'll be much help unconscious," Natalie teased. She then nursed at a coffee that she had somehow got ahold of on the way home. He had slept through that too apparently. Mike decided not to argue and opened the passenger door.

"Would you mind carrying knock-off Freddy inside?" Marionette asked and, after receiving a brief assurance, set the larger plush into his lap. As he leaned in, he gave a quiet, "I'll be waiting for you. Don't be too long." Then he took the others into his arms before teleporting inside. After a quick goodbye, Mike stepped out of the van and followed suite.

Natalie waved with a simple smile as she waited for the front door to close. Now she was alone with Foxy, which may have been part of the plan. "Hey, Foxy?" she asked as she pulled back out onto the road. "Is it just me, or is there… Something weird going on with those two?"

"Today, Kids, we got a special Lass joinin' our crew!"

The discomfort was still there. The stiffness in the joints and the tightness of the plates; it was all very claustrophobic. This had to be done eventually. There was no time like the present.

"She be a lil shy, so give her yer biggest pirate welcome."

Foxy was waiting for her to step out. Marionette was waiting for her to step out. Everyone was waiting for her to appear. Everyone was so eager to see her, and there was no reason not to give the best impression that could be given. All that had to be taken was that first step. One step, through the curtain, and into their line of vision.

"Put yer hands and hooks together fer Baby!"

With a growing tenseness, the tightening increasing, the coils squeezing in, Baby stepped through the curtain and raised her hand in greeting.

"Hello, boys and girls. It's nice to meet you," Baby greeted with as much calmness as could be mustered. Too much nervousness and her voice would be tainted; Baby needed to keep as calm as possible. The children all looked so excited at the new, towering animatronic.

"Baby's gonna be part of our crew fer now on," Foxy clarified to the children. None of them argued with it or questioned it. Baby continued to wave and smile at them. It really wasn't that hard, to be honest. Not nearly as hard as one would think from watching Foxy and Marionette appease the kids. So many kids, but they were so easy to entertain. Maybe all they needed was a song, or for someone to carry them out a piece of birthday cake.

The five at the table could use cake. Maybe the three standing near the arcade could use a few free tokens. The six crowding Foxy seemed taken care of enough. Then the four by the door and the two by the window. The five that looked like they were there for a party, then there were three, then four, then two, five, three, six, two, and one. At a single table, there was one.

Baby was determined not to go near the lone child.

Baby didn't have much of a choice.

Mable: Ignorance is bliss. It doesn't last.