Mable: Happy late FNAF anniversary! In case you didn't know, Scott released more images. The Magician has finally gotten his fifteen seconds of fame… Literal fifteen seconds. XD Anyway, Enjoy!

Can't Go Home Again

Chapter Sixty-Seven

It really didn't seem like anything was amiss. Morning went as normal, work started without an issue, nobody acted odd or suspicious, and eventually the day was over. Just a basic day of parties and children. School must have been out for the summer as there were more children than usual, but work still went smoothly. Parties, cake, ice cream, songs; everything was fine and perfect.

Then about ten o'clock at night rolled around and the normal ritual was abruptly changed.

Around seven, Mike had said he was tired and went to take a nap. Then, after awaking, Mike changed from his uniform into something more casual, got his things together, and randomly announced, "I'm heading over to Phone Guy's." This was very peculiar for Marionette. Not that he was leaving to see Phone Guy, but that he was leaving so late to visit anyone.

"Oh? That seems a bit sudden," Marionette teased in light questioning. "Any reason why?"

"Just checking in to make sure he's got it all together. You heard what everyone's been saying about him calling all the time sounding flustered," Mike pointed out as he leaned on the back of the couch.

"I just assumed it was his hobby," Marionette murmured. His tone of disinterest wasn't new. Mike was very aware of Marionette less than pleased outlook of the Phone Guy and wasn't bothered by it. After all, it wasn't as though the Puppet showed any sort of outright aggression since that one incident involving the confession about Afton. He didn't stop Mike either.

"I don't know how long I'll be over there, but if it gets late then don't wait up for me; it means he murdered me and fed me to his cats," Mike remarked. Then he leaned down and tilted Marionette's head upwards enough to kiss his forehead. This shouldn't have been too strange, but something seemed oddly… Timed on the gesture. The motion lingered, as though it was much more sentimental when Mike was just leaving for a little while to visit a 'friend'.

Marionette gave a small chime as he released his sketch filled notebook and took ahold of Mike's hand. He squeezed it affectionately and turned his head to kiss the back, briefly noticing the gold watch on his wrist. He could feel the immediate flash of warmth; Mike was still wearing his gift. To know that he took that much pleasure out of it made the Puppet rather happy.

"Don't be too late," Marionette instructed in a lightly playful tone. "I'll be watching the clock."

"Not too closely, I hope," Mike retorted with smugness as he started to draw back. He then turned to head to the door.

"I love you," Marionette called over the couch. Mike stopped in place, quietly standing there. It wasn't the first time Marionette had said it and yet the reaction was strange. The Puppet peered over the back of the couch, watching Mike eventually pull himself together and approach the front door. Apparently, he had stopped trying to formulate a response.

"…Sorry about cutting our night short," Mike apologized, "but I'll make it up to you when I get home. Promise." He sent him back a strangely forced smile and headed out the front door.

Hickory, Dickory, and Doc's Funcade made a perfect first impression. It was a lone building sitting on the side of the highway, surrounded by desert, and almost entirely illuminated from the inside. Mike parked his car in the almost entirely empty parking lot and stepped out before heading inside the unlocked front door.

It was certainly vibrant with color and much larger than he could've expected. Just in the entrance alone was a front desk and a prize corner stuck to the immediate left. Rows of arcade machines and various skill games were so packed in that they created a maze of halls through the building. A large ball pit connected with a set of plastic tunnels that climbed to the roof. In the way-back he could see what looked like a stage with drawn curtains.

Just seeing the inside of Hickory's caused immediate confusion. Foxy's was doing great and nobody had mentioned anything about this place, as though it wasn't viable competition, but it obviously was. Mike got about ten feet further, staring at the maze of machines, when he was alerted to footsteps. Instead of a woman, as he expected by the phone call, there was a man in a jumpsuit. He looked about sixty and had salt and pepper hair; though there was a bit more salt than pepper.

"You must be the new night guard. Welcome aboard," the man greeted with a shake of the hand. "Sandy couldn't be here tonight, so I'm going to run you through with everything."

"Sounds fine by me," Mike assured. "Matt Fezzmen."

"Chauncey Evans, call me Chance," the man introduced as he turned and headed into the back. Mike could only furrow his brows in suspicion, wondering if this just happened to be the same Chance that he had been told about. He shrugged it off, realizing the unlikeliness, and followed behind the older man. "I'm just the technician, so I can't give you much of an insight on the paperwork side of things, but I've got time to show you around if you finish off the paperwork quickly." He checked his watch, "But I need to be out of here by Midnight."

As though the fact that the place was unheard of wasn't a bad sign alone. Mike had a suspicion that this wasn't going to be the quiet night that was being suggested. In the further back of the arcade, hidden out of immediate view, was a sort of makeshift 'office'. More so, it seemed to be either a token or ticket booth that was just being used as a place for him to sit. There was a back wall with a door, a wall on the right side with a covered vent, and a left 'wall' made of the backs of game machines and the grating between them and the office.

A sturdy desk sat in the middle and pointed out at rest of the arcade. It was topped with a monitor, a container of pens, and a bowl of cheap looking candy. It was all rather basic, but at least looked cleaner than some of the offices that Mike had worked in during the past. A small stack of papers and a folded uniform jacket were sitting in the chair, which Chance retrieved.

"Here's your uniform. Just throw it over what you have on," Chance instructed as Mike did so. "Here's an identification pin. Just in case someone comes in and doesn't immediately recognize the suit. There's some things in the desk; flashlight, batteries, whatever you'll need." Then he handed over the paperwork. It was basic fair, but Mike had to extensively lie; lived in the state, worked previously as a mall security guard, never worked with animatronics before, and heard about Hickory's through a relative- they would be none the wiser.

Then he came to the confidentiality agreement. It proceeded a group of papers about the risks associated with the job and punctuated the point exactly. Mike clicked the pen a few times, "I don't really have to sign this, do I? Who exactly is going to want to know that I'm spending my nights sitting in an office?" Mike covered his reluctance to sign with innocent sounding banter.

"Yeah, you do. If you don't, they'll withhold your paycheck," Chance pointed out. He sounded almost exasperated, "I know by experience." He rolled his eyes and shook his head. Mike signed the paper with the pen unclicked, leaving no ink in its wake and going unnoticed by the older man. "This is what happens when you don't get a job with a pension plan," Chance lamented before gesturing to the jacket. "Put that on and I'll show you around."

With Mike in uniform and Chance satisfied with everything so far, he led him back to the middle of the arcade. "This is the main stage. Hickory, Dickory, and Doc are all behind that curtain there. I'm not going to open it this late, but you'll see them eventually." He then pointed down towards the front door, "Front entrance and the prize exchange." Then he pointed down the path by the ball pit, "The kitchen is down that way. You don't need to go in there; everything's shut off and empty."

Chance led back towards the office, explaining as he went, "Most of the overhead lights will be off, but the lights in the kitchen, the prize exchange, and your office will be on." He stopped by the entrance to the office. "Bathrooms are back there, back door is on that wall, and this-," Chance tapped on a white box on the wall, "is the thermostat. It stays on seventy. If it changes then you're going to start feeling it." That was a particularly odd statement, but Mike didn't have time to ask before he continued.

"The door behind your desk is just a supply closet, so don't worry about going in there for anything. Your shift begins at Midnight on the dot and ends at five-twenty. Don't ask why that time exactly; that's management's decision." Chance hesitated in a suspicious manner, looking almost a bit guilty, but didn't continue with it. "You'll get a call with more on what you need to do closer to Midnight, so I'm taking off. Good luck," Chance finished as he almost hastily headed for the front door.

The entire tour and explanation was so rushed, like he couldn't wait to get out of the arcade, and Mike had a sinking feeling that his suspicions were confirmed.

That sinking feeling was followed by a shameful giddiness. It wasn't going to be a false lead. This was the real deal.

Preparation was key in this sort of situation. Mike waited until he was certain Chance had drove off before heading out to his car to grab a bag of potato chips and a soda. He hoped it would be enough to keep him comfortable for the night, especially if it was going to be a quitter night. He didn't know if the Monday rule would still be in play here, but it seemed possible.

A few minutes before Midnight, the main lights automatically shut off. Mike acknowledged it, but was pleasantly surprised to see that the arcade wasn't nearly as pitch dark as expected. Some of the arcade cabinets weren't shut down and between them and the few lights, the shadows weren't as daunting as they could have been. Mike glanced to the monitor and quickly clicked through the cameras. There were seven cameras that most pointed to the shadows, but nothing moving on any of them. It was all silent.

Before Mike could really get comfortable, his phone started to play the 'Toreador March' in alert of a call. He slipped it out and answered, "Hello?"

"Hi! My name is Jennifer and I would like to welcome you to the Funcade family! We're so happy to have you on the payroll!"

"Ah, Phone Girl," Mike remarked matter-of-factly. That was just a natural reaction to a bubbly voice chiming assurances on the phone.

"Huh?" Though Mike didn't realize that it wasn't a recording until now.

"I… Sort of assumed that you were a recording," Mike admitted with an awkward cough. "Nice to hear your voice, Jen. Chance said you were going to call."

"Oh, yeah, I could see that- it's Jennifer- but I'm just calling in to give you an idea about what you're supposed to do tonight. Did you fill out your paperwork?" He agreed; he knew she was really inquiring about the confidentiality agreement. "Great! Wonderful, so we can get started. We only have a few minutes before you get started, so let's just get this out of the way… You're here to keep an eye on the animatronics."

"I had a hunch." Mike wanted to just nudge this along. The girl was obviously beating around the bush and they were wasting valuable time.

"To be absolutely frank with you, the animatronics are kept on all night… And they tend to wander around the arcade after Midnight- you signed the non-disclosure agreement, right?" He gave another false assurance. "Okay, so… The animatronics are going to come off their stage and wander through the arcade. Your job is just to monitor and make sure they don't damage the equipment. Sometimes these guys get a little rowdy after Midnight."

"Should I be worried about them coming in here and 'damaging the equipment'?" Mike cheekily asked. As though he didn't know the answer, but expected a watered-down version of it.

"Unfortunately, yes… You probably noticed all of those injury clauses in the paperwork," Jennifer seemed uncomfortable, "and this is because the animatronics get confused at night. They have attacked night guards in the past, which is why we go through so many… But before you get the wrong idea, no, nobody's been seriously injured. Ah… One guy broke an arm, but usually they're tame. You just need to keep them out of the office and away from you, without letting them do anything crazy… Bear with me, this isn't the easiest thing to get out there."

A small thump alerted Mike who peered out into the arcade. He checked the monitors, flipping through the cameras and trying to find the source of the noise. "Something's moving around out there," Mike forewarned in a lower voice as he retrieved the flashlight out of the desk. "There's only three of these guys, right?"

"Uh, no. Hickory, Dickory, Doc's boasts a proud collection of eight animatronics. Usually, though, only three of them are active tonight. They get a slow start on Monday." There was a strange noise coming from off in the arcade. It almost sounded like the sound of a shower curtain being pushed open. Mike flipped onto the camera by the show stage and, unsurprisingly, there was the curtain being drawn back. He could see a rat shaped face peering through; cartoonish looking with a goofy smile and dark glasses. "It's really touch and go, I promise."

Mike felt his pulse begin to race, but not out of fear. He wasn't afraid of some stumbling animatronic, not after the things that he had seen. He knew what threatening animatronics were; these things were just jokes. Yet he still felt himself getting a rush out of it. "Just give me a heads up on what I'm dealing with tonight and I'll handle it."

"Oh… Eager. Okay. I sort of expected you to immediately quit. They'd have me come over there and fill in if you did, so I'm pretty glad you didn't." She moved the phone around for a moment. "Hickory and Dickory will probably come off their stage and wander around the arcade. They're effectively blind because of their glasses, but they aren't dangerous. You could knock them over and they wouldn't care." This almost sounded safe, but was ruined when Jennifer continued onwards. "But if they touch, hear, or figure out you're there, so will Doc."

The first mouse, a brown colored one, stepped down from the stage. Mike looked out from the office and in the distance could see it pass by and head towards the front entrance. "And Doc's dangerous?"

"Doc's dangerous," Jennifer assured. "…And fast, but blind enough. If he somehow comes out, just hide under your desk or something. That's what the last guy did." Mike took a breath to ask when she continued, "And he quit. It's just like taming a couple of animals; it's only dangerous if you goof off."

"Right, I'll take that to heart," Mike added in with blunt skepticism. "Thanks for the help, but I need to start the shift."

"Good luck out there! Remember, your shift ends at five-twenty. Try not to fall asleep!" With that, the girl ended the call, and Mike slipped the phone back into his pocket. Though he wasn't anymore assured by the end of the call.

"What exactly happens at five-twenty and why do they want me out of here when it happens?" Mike asked himself, looking back to the monitor. The brown mouse animatronic, he guessed this was Hickory, was now stumbling near the front door. Back at the stage, the curtain was still open enough that a second mouse, which looked almost identical to the first one except that it was grey, stepped out and began to wander. To Mike's dismay, it turned and headed straight towards the office he was seated inside.

If Jennifer had been right about one thing, it was the lesser risk. Dickory seemed to not notice him and wandered around without aggression or really any drive at all. It stepped into the office only for a moment before stepping out again and heading down the hall towards the bathrooms. All in all, they were almost entirely nonthreatening, and Mike started to get settled in.

Time ticked away rather slowly. Especially considering that he was only minimally fighting for his life. By time it was one in the morning, he had almost entirely stopped watching the monitors and instead relied on his eyes and ears to alert if Hickory or Dickory was circling around again. Eating the chips seemed to lure them closer, so the bag was rolled up and abandoned on the corner of the desk. Mike was leaned back in his office chair, so bold as to kick his feet up and break open a magazine found in the desk, when a new sound alerted him.

It was oddly enough the fan on the wall that caught his attention. Up until now it had been largely quiet and gave only a dull hum to show that it was working, but it suddenly gave a groan and kicked on a bit stronger. Mike looked over and caught tan and blue out of the corner of his eye. There, slumped at the edge of the office wall, was an animatronic that looked like a puppet boy. It had blue, striped clothing, a wide and toothy smile, and seemed to somewhat resemble what he had seen of the Balloon Boy animatronic.

Mike squinted slightly and studied the animatronic that was slumped against the wall. It stared at him, but wasn't seemingly doing anything. That being said, he didn't want to look away and risk giving it time to come closer. After a few minutes, he was forced to check the monitor, and out of the corner of his eye he could see it disappear behind the wall. He didn't know whether he was horrified at how fast it moved or simply relieved that it had moved on. He then had a period of respite.

Though in the following hour or so without activity, Mike was starting to face a different problem. More specifically, how hot it was getting inside of the arcade. It wasn't noticeable for a while, but by time Mike had finished his soda, removed his jacket, and still felt overheated he decided that something was wrong, and he knew exactly where the check.

"That little, wooden brat," Mike muttered as he narrowed his gaze on the obviously changed thermostat. "How did he even reach it?! If it floats too, I'm pretty much screwed." But while the boy animatronic was a pest, it was also not a threat, leaving Mike still feeling rather safe in an arcade that was not safe. He eventually spotted the boy and Hickory in the prize exchange, along with a third animatronic that he could only see the arm of. It looked more humanoid from the brief glimpse he did get.

Monday night continued to be uneventful. Hickory and Dickory eventually moved in closer to the office, but seemed largely unwilling to enter it. The temperature had also returned to a more comfortable one. All in all, he expected to coast through the rest of his first night. By four in the morning, Mike was starting to grow groggy. It had been so long since he had last worked the night shift that even with his earlier nap he was feeling the effects of sleep deprivation. While the mice animatronics were still wandering outside of the office, the boy animatronic returned.

Mike caught sight of it peering out from behind the wall. The moment he did, it vanished once again, but he knew he would have to check the thermostat again. He rolled his eyes, stood, and headed over to fix the change again. It was annoying but wasn't dangerous- unless he was at a risk of overheating- but this changed abruptly.

Suddenly, Dickory swerved around the corner and bumped straight into the security guard. The mouse animatronic came to a halt and stood blankly, making no attempt to grab or attack Mike. Instead, something else decided to suddenly announce its presence.

There was a guttural groan from the distant show stage which was followed by thundering footsteps. A heavy thump sounded as whatever it was jumped down from the stage and began to beeline to the office. The floor seemed to shake and another cry, a higher pitched groan, alerted of the coming threat.

With a choke, Mike dove behind the desk and fit himself underneath it. The heavy footsteps rushed in before stopping in front of the desk. The animatronic's heavy fists slammed down on the office desk hard enough that Mike was shocked that it didn't crack. He could hear the pens fall over and saw the empty soda can hit the floor. Then it was all silent, even as the animatronic lingered over the desk. Everything went still and completely silent. His pulse was pounding in his ears, but Mike slid down to peer underneath the desk.

The animatronic had feet just like Hickory and Dickory did, so Mike could only assume that it was Doc. The only obvious difference that he could identify from such a small glimpse was that its 'fur' was beige, so he couldn't tell if it looked any more intimidating than the other mice. The animatronic drug its hands along the desk and knocked off the potato chip bag as they dropped to its side. Then it stiffly turned and began to walk from the office.

Eventually, Mike heard the thumping as it climbed onto its stage again. He then dared to climb back onto his chair and checked the monitor. He could see nothing; the shadows and curtain obscured the aggressive animatronic from view.

"That was close," Mike muttered as he stared out at the arcade. "Considering that the others barely moved in the last five hours." Thankfully, Dickory moved on too, which meant that he wasn't going to get stuck with a repeat of what just happened. Either way, Mike stayed on higher alert as he waited for the rest of his shift to end. The last twenty minutes were the most difficult and Mike was partially concerned about driving himself home.

Then five-twenty hit and before Mike could even prepare to leave, the power died in the arcade.

It was a jarring change. Mike tried to see through the darkness as he heard movement nearby. Footsteps quickened and there were more of them as more animatronics started to come out of their hiding spots. However, Mike had been given the cue to leave, and decided that the best option was to sneak out the back. He felt along the hall beside the office and followed towards the back. It was easy to get confused, especially as he could hear rapid footsteps thunder into the office where he just was, but his hand eventually touched a cold doorknob and turned.

The security guard stumbled down an uncomfortably tall step and into the employee parking. The door shut behind him and locked. His shift was over.

Mike didn't waste a moment to get back to his car and start driving home. He thought that he would have this time to contemplate what he had witnessed, but the sudden change of sleep schedule had left his mind slow and he had to use all his focus to get himself back home. He would decide whether to go back once he was rested. As though he needed rest to answer that question when he was already at risk.

The sun was already rising when Mike pulled into the driveway. He slipped off the uniform top and tossed it into the backseat floorboard before exiting the car and heading inside. As expected, Marionette was not there to greet him and was probably still sleeping. When Mike made it to the bedroom and found Marionette missing, he assumed that he had slept in his box, but was too tired to go wake him. He sent a weary look at the alarm clock, due to wake him in only a few hours, and collapsed onto the bed. Everything came to an abrupt halt.

The alarm did rouse him right on schedule. Mike felt heavy as the throbbing chiming echoed through the bedroom. With a low groan, Mike started to push himself upwards from the pillows and tried to comprehend how he fell asleep face down. Half of his face already felt numb and he was just clouded enough to question if last night was just a strange dream.

Before he could reach for the alarm, it was abruptly shut off. A hand rested on his back and pressed him back down, coaxing him to lay down again. Mike didn't fight it. He could feel as Marionette tugged the blanket up over him and briefly lingered to pet his head in assurance. He didn't yet ask questions but Mike knew he would, just not yet. For now, he would let the Puppet handle it; he could feel the moment when Marionette teleported out of the room and guessed that he was heading to the pizzeria without him. That was fine with Mike.

He would come up with a believable story later. For now, he needed a few more hours of sleep.

Any semblance of a pattern with Ennard had been halted. While Scott wished he could pick up on one, Ennard was showing itself entirely unpredictable.

Scott woke in the morning to find Ennard gone and from this assumed that he was in the garage, but then the animatronic randomly appeared about an hour later, walked into the kitchen, walked out of the kitchen, and returned to the garage. Scott didn't know whether to be curious about what it wanted from the kitchen or just relieved that it wasn't interested in engaging him.

Unfortunately, Ennard didn't wait for nighttime like Scott had hoped. Halfway through the afternoon, and while Scott was on the phone with a client no less, Ennard appeared in the doorway and began to stare him down. It was enough to cause Scott's voice to waver and sputter relentlessly. It just stared with that blank, unyielding gaze with glassy, blue eyes. Yet what was the most uncomfortable part of all was that Ennard had been eerily silent since the confession the night before. It had not said a single word to Scott.

By time Scott had ended the call, Ennard was gone. He assumed that it headed back into the garage and returned to work, finishing up what he could as fast as he could. Then he stopped to check on the kittens. By now they had opened their eyes, but they were still young and clumsy, and needy, and much too small to be anywhere near Ennard. Scott had made sure to keep his bedroom door shut and the kittens hidden away. His cats were fine with entering through the bathroom anyway, so it didn't raise any issues.

Until Ennard appeared again. It boldly opened the door and stood in the doorway to watch the human. Scott was stuck between an uncomfortable crouch, a silent animatronic, and his kittens. He set the runt down into the cat bed and tried to stand with as little awkwardness as possible. Then he turned back to see that, again, Ennard had left. It continued to just pop up, say nothing, and leave shortly afterwards. Perhaps it was some sort of game. Maybe, in some confusing way, Ennard was purposefully doing this to get Scott to initiate the conversation.

Surprisingly enough, it worked. Having Ennard wandering around silently was just enough to push him to start to speak. Scott waited uncomfortably in his office, distracting himself with paperwork as he waited for the animatronics to pass by once again. His hands were shaking and he knew that he needed his medication, but decided to hold off a little longer, wanting to get this out of the way first.

He heard the footsteps as it approached and stood in the doorway. Scott looked over, awkwardly braced himself, and then spoke, "Hey, uh… You've been quiet today." Ennard didn't say anything. "If it's because of last night's talk… I don't think you're broken, Ennard." Maybe it was him, but Ennard seemed to perk. Maybe because of his comment or maybe because he used its name. "Neither of us are broken, so let's not dwell on it, okay?"

"Sounds great!"

Scott immediately recoiled at the upbeat response. Not because of the tone, but because Ennard's soft, feminine voice had completely changed. Suddenly, Ennard was speaking with a higher pitch. It was a masculine voice instead of feminine and instead sounded unnerving. It was almost dangerous; he could see a murderous clown with a similar voice.

"Why… Why is your voice different? You changed it?" Scott assumed. He hoped with every fiber of his being that this wasn't a permanent thing. Or worse, that this was the animatronic's true voice.

"I wanted to try this one!" Ennard chirped, following with what was a very unsettling laugh. "Have you heard of Funtime Freddy?"

"…Sure, yeah." It took a few moments, but Scott vaguely remembered the 'Funtime' animatronics. Though all that he had seen were sketches of Chica, Freddy, and Foxy before he was abruptly cut off from the informational feed. "I never saw him, but I know something about him."

"This is his voice," Ennard explained. "I think he would've liked you. I know I do!" That affectionately bold proclamation was in sharp contrast to how Ennard stiffly stared at the man with no movement. Physically, it was moving as usual, but the voice expressed an entirely different emotion. It was such a contrast to the calm and hesitant personality that it expressed with its feminine voice. As though the personality changed as fast as the voice did.

Scott hoped that this wasn't the case. He really hoped that it only seemed that way.

"I thought you'd like it more. I didn't want to use her voice forever," Ennard admitted. "Do you like it?"

"S-Sure! It's- It's something," Scott insisted.

"That doesn't sound very convincing." This voice made it sound so much more patronizing.

"No, just- It's me. I need my medication," Scott added in. It wasn't actually a lie and he stood, walking to the door, and brushed past Ennard and into the bathroom. "J-Just give me a second, okay?" He got ahold of his bottle and fumbled with it. He didn't really want to take it with tap water and shuffled past Ennard again, who now seemed to be purposefully getting in the way.

"Is it the broken inside that make you shake?" Ennard inquired. It tilted its head and for the first time today its actions and voice seemed to sync. The voice still sounded entirely inappropriate for the scenario, but there seemed to be some sort of concern there regardless. "A human endoskeleton? Can they not replace it?"

"It doesn't work like that." He was becoming exasperated as he entered the kitchen and went for a bottle of juice. "It's not like the leg. I can't just-."

"How did you lose your leg?" There was no denying it; this voice was terrible. It had somehow made what was an uncomfortable situation so much worse by turning something calm and passive into- well, Funtime Freddy. That blunt question was just enough to trip Scott up. He silently took his medicine, Ennard waited expectantly in the doorway and blocked him in, and the man looked back with the same desperation.

Though this time, Scott found his voice working before his brain could respond. Ennard was just so persistent that Scott couldn't help but be blunt.

"An animatronic did this to me," Scott said. He said it with as little bitterness as he could muster, because it wasn't this animatronic's fault. "I was work-working the nightshift and was caught by a group of animatronics which th-then decided to drag me into the back… And forced me into a suit… And that's it." Shockingly, his voice stuttered less in this reveal of the horrific event. As though it was waiting to come out and wouldn't be halted. "It ruined… My night." He wouldn't say his life; he wasn't broken.

Yet Ennard was still staring and studying. It probably didn't understand any of it.

"I just- I don't want to focus on it. I don't want to constantly remember that I- That I'm different," Scott tried to explain. He then grabbed for a bag of cookies as he felt hunger driven by stress. Right as he got the bag open and was prepared to shove a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth.

This triggered another period of silence that Scott alleviated with crunching. He made the sudden decision to escape to his bedroom, lock the door, and hopefully stay there until Ennard made its rounds back into the garage. He made the move to slide by as he had before, but he was only halfway past when metal clamped on his arm.

The metal wires wrapped around his upper arm and tightened until it was obvious that he couldn't squeeze his arm out. It was silent and heavy.

"Ennard… Could you please let go?" Scott tried to convince. Yet the wires only tightened like a vice. "Y-You're starting to hurt me here, let go." The wires didn't budge he dropped the bag and involuntarily grabbed at the wires on his arm. He had tried to stay calm, but the panic was starting to set in. He dug his fingers under the wires and tried to pry them off. "Ennard, let go."

"They used to force me inside a suit too," Ennard randomly announced. Its voice was low and underneath the false Freddy tone it echoed something strange, like a crackling or a static. A heavy breathing sort of tone, but it sounded more like a voice glitch than it did trying to mimic heavy breathing. "But they weren't like me, they were like you. They were humans, not animatronics."

"I'm sorry," Scott meekly responded. The tightness on his arm had stilled his confidence. While made of wires, this thing's grip was strong enough along to do whatever damage it wanted.

"Why would you be sorry?" The voice returned to a higher pitch, bubbling with that pretend giddiness that only something created by Afton could fake. "You didn't do that to me. You didn't force me into a body." Then it went remarkably quiet for a few seconds. No breathing, no crackles, just silence. "And I didn't force you into that suit."

Scott was taken aback that Ennard had been leading up to something. Now hearing it, it was almost a sort of comfort, but the vice grip was still on his arm. He gave a small fidget and in response the animatronic's wires retracted from its hold. "Uh… Thanks," Scott answered out of reflex, massaging over his arm where the wires had help. Scott couldn't look the amalgam in the eyes and just said whatever he thought needed to be said, trying to treat the animatronic like he would treat another human.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," Ennard spoke. Its voice fully returned to the uncanny chirping of earlier. "I wouldn't hurt you."

The man nodded stiffly. His medication hadn't yet started working so the trembles were still there, though not as painful as they were earlier, and the threat level had dropped dramatically. Maybe for the first time, Ennard was truly acting like another real person. Even with the voices and the personality shift, he could emphasize with the animatronic.

Scott let his guard down a bit more.

Mable: Huh… Monday is the easiest day of the week… This is indeed a disturbing universe.
Also, since I might not update before the 16th, it's my birthday. So, happy early birthday to me! I feel somewhat old and mostly disgruntled. When I post again, hopefully soon, I shall be another year older! Hope you enjoyed!