Mable: So, I had my tooth extraction. That almost explains the delay on the chapter- that and the ridiculous word count that appeared out of nowhere. I'm not stalling this a moment longer.
Can't Go Home Again
Chapter Seventy
Things were uncomfortable to say the least. "I'm starting to get worried…"
Marionette fidgeted uncomfortably and kept his voice quiet, as only a curtain separated them from the pizzeria. Their shift had just ended and the last children had just left, leaving the Puppet with the incoming nervousness from the impending evening. "He's never been like this, Foxy. He's never left without saying anything and he's never been this secret," Marionette vented.
"Maybe he's havin' an affair," Foxy remarked. This was followed by a clear glare from his sibling. "It's a possibility."
"An affair wouldn't be a nightly event that lasted from nine to six," Marionette insisted firmly. Just the thought of him having an affair was both out of the question and too horrible to imagine. He didn't want to even consider the thought as it didn't make sense with Mike's behavior. "It's something else and… I had a nightmare last night. I don't usually have such vivid nightmares unless there's a reason."
"Oh yeah?" Foxy now seemed more interested he pushed the curtain further closed and looked back at the Puppet. "What about? Was it him?"
"It was about the-… It was when the Pizzeria was shut down and we-…" His voice continued to break. Desperation set in and Marionette tightened his hands tighter, trying to ignore the off-tune sounds growing in his chest. "When we were taken away." Foxy stared blankly for a moment.
"…Lad, yer gonna have to be clearer. Which time when we were taken?" Foxy asked, growing a bit more interested.
"No, not we as in us, I mean-… After the shutdown of the pizzeria and everything was downsized?" It clicked; he could tell as Foxy's ears perked and his eyes focused. "Before I… Returned… I had a memory dream about that, but I don't know why." He directed his eyes to the curtain. "I thought it might be connected…" Then he focused his gaze, "And Jeremy's listening in."
Foxy blinked and wrenched back the curtain. There was Jeremy cleaning the closest table. "He ain't listenin' in. The lad's too good for that," Foxy denied.
"Foxy, unless he was wearing headphones, it's impossible that he can't hear us. Not with your volume and how close he is," Marionette pointed out. Realizing that Foxy was going to keep denying it, he decided to ignore it for the moment, "But we have more important things to deal with."
"Tell 'im if he goes again that yer gonna follow," Foxy bluntly suggested, "and if he still leaves port, you follow 'im." Considering how unhelpful he seemed determined to be, his advice was sound. The Puppet hummed and considered the possibility of just sneaking into Mike's car before he left. If he left, of course.
"I may do that… But he said he wasn't going, and I don't see why Mike would lie to me," Marionette reminded. It felt better to constantly reassure himself that Mike had no need to lie, but Foxy still seemed skeptic.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the pizzeria, Mike was looking for an out and believed that Fritz would provide one. "What are you and Natalie doing tonight?" Mike inquired, looking forward to slipping himself into an excuse so that he could have leeway to escape to Hickory's. Fritz seemed a little surprised by the bold question, but gave a rather specific answer.
"Fixing a toilet," Fritz answered. Mike gave an incredulous look. "The half bath sprung a leak and we're going to have to go in. You're welcome to join," he offered with a small smirk. It wasn't exactly what Mike was expecting, but there was still an opportunity, and he surprised the man by taking it.
"Sure, what the hell. I've got nothing better to do," the security guard shrugged. "Do you know what you're doing?"
"I'm a certified technician, Mike, I think I can handle a toilet," Fritz pointed out.
"No, you can't!" Natalie called from the kitchen. "We're following the directions this time!" There were a few seconds of silence.
"…This time?" Mike quipped a brow. Fritz refused to clarify and bluntly turned to head into the office, looking a little embarrassed. With him gone and a possible alibi found, Mike glanced around for more work for the moment, and eventually looked to Jeremy, who was cleaning the table. He headed over to his side. "Need help?"
Jeremy briefly glanced over before continuing scrubbing at something, "Need a buffer."
"It's not coming going to come out," Mike assured as he looked down at the dark stain on the table. "Our best bet is to throw a new tablecloth on it and burn the old one."
"But it's sticky. It's just going to ruin the next one too," Jeremy lamented as he continued to rub. He didn't seem to notice the sudden look of suspicion and disgust that passed the younger's face.
"Yeah… Any clue what it is?- On second thought, I don't care," Mike immediately reflected. Then he squinted, "Eh… Maybe it's chewing tobacco." This immediately caused Jeremy to recoil his hands like he had been touching poison. Or something more unpleasant and less toxic, something that made him wonder if Freddy's rules should've been carried over. "Speaking of the way my life's going, I'm going over to Fritz's after work to fix a toilet. You want to come? We'll make it a party." Before Jeremy could even answer, the curtains were shoved open.
"You're going out tonight?" Marionette 'innocently' asked as he held the curtains at bay. "That's peculiar, I thought you were staying in."
"If you mean if I'm going out for six or seven hours, no. This is just a favor for Fritz and Nat," Mike assured with a smile. It wasn't a lie yet; it wouldn't be a lie if he decided not to go and as of now, he still hadn't fully decided. He looked down to Jeremy, "So, are you in?"
"Uh… Sure! I'm not really a plumber, but I'll do what I can," Jeremy assured and then looked back towards the Puppet. He could feel the tenseness and could see the piercing gaze. Marionette stared down with a smile, but there was obviously something much more discontent underneath. Mike noticed it too, but blatantly ignored it.
"I'm going to go see if there's anything that can burn that off the table," Mike quipped and headed off. More so, he tried to slip out from under that clear look of suspicion. The glowing dots in Marionette's eyes followed behind him and watched as he headed to the hall and closet. A silent, awkward moment passed, and then Jeremy looked back to the striped being.
"I'll… I'll keep an eye out, okay? I'll make sure he sticks close by," Jeremy assured. Though he nearly flinched under the white dots now posed on him. He almost regretted putting himself into the matter at all.
"See, Lad? Jer'my's gonna watch 'im!" Foxy called out from behind. Marionette's lights moved off to the side, as though somewhat looking back without really turning to look at him. "An' the lad'll call if he tries squirming out the door." While Foxy was bluntly speaking for Jeremy, he was saying the truth. Jeremy had no intention of not telling Marionette, especially since he noticed that Mike was acting strange recently. What with his numerous unexplained disappearances and constant excuses.
Either way, the lights disappeared from Marionette's eyes and he looked back to Jeremy. "I would appreciate that. Thank you," he quietly thanked before letting the curtains shut. He would go along with it for now.
Once the restaurant was cleaned and closed, Mike drove over to Fritz's. Marionette dismissed himself to head home, but curtly assured Mike that he would 'perhaps' come by. Which most likely meant that he had every intention on checking up on the security guard. Mike noted this but was undeterred. He agreed to help regardless of his decision for later tonight. Besides, it had been too long since he spent any quality time with Fritz, Jeremy, and Natalie.
Less than thirty minutes later and they had almost completely uprooted the toilet, and Mike was second guessing his decisions.
"What did you do to this thing?" Mike muttered over to Fritz as he watched said technician trying to squeeze behind.
"It's been on the fritz since before I moved in. This was bound to happen eventually," Fritz pointed out. "Alright, Jere, look in and watch for if anything's different." Jeremy did so as Mike gave a scoff.
"That was just a pun on your own name. I don't know whether I'm more ashamed of you or me for signing up to this." Either way, he leaned around the over side and looked at what Fritz was looking at. More specifically, exposed piping. "Yeah, I don't think toilets are supposed to be like this."
"They're not. I don't know what this is," Fritz admitted and leaned upwards to flush the toilet. With the simple pull of a handle, hell was unleashed. The pipes sprayed out a thin mist of that Mike sputtered on and flung himself back from with a choke of horror. He rubbed his face off on his sleeve as hard as he could, still acting as though he had been hit with acid, and Jeremy laughed down at him.
"It's clean water, Mike," he pointed before looking down at the technician. "It's all the same up here."
"I don't care if it's clean, it came out of the back of a toilet," Mike defended. He then slid back in and looked over where the water had sprayed out. "I think it came out between this one and the floor," he pointed out and Fritz moved back to circle around and get a look for himself. The security guard moved so that Fritz could get by. "Let's face it; you're going to have to shell out a few bucks and hire a real plumber."
"Here I am, at your service," Natalie chimed in as she squeezed past Mike and Jeremy. She carried a small tool set with her. "They were in that crawlspace in the pantry, by the way. I can't even guess how they got back there." She seemed unbothered by the wet floor and crouched down. "So, it's a leak?"
"It's beyond a leak. I think it's a cracked pipe- this pipe- right underneath the floor," Fritz pointed out as he tried to shine his light down into the gap between plastic and floor.
"…Which would mean, yes, it's a leak," Mike chimed in as he leaned against the sink.
"Then we'll need to replace the whole pipe to be safe. My car's blocked in, so one of you two is going to have to go see if the hardware store is still open. I'm pretty sure it is," Natalie instructed as she looked between Mike and Jeremy. The two looked at each other and Jeremy raised a hand in suggestion. Three games of rock-paper-scissor later and Jeremy was stuck with the job, but he didn't really seem to care. Natalie beckoned him over and started to explain what size of pipe he would need and then sent him out into the hall.
Jeremy headed down into the living room and started to walk through, but came to an abrupt halt when he noticed black and white out of the corner of his eye. He looked over and did a double take, realizing that it was Marionette sitting in one of the living room chairs. Jeremy stared blankly at the Puppet, who stiffly leaned back in the chair, grasping the end of the armrests and legs crossed. He patiently sat there as though waiting.
"…Hey, Mari," Jeremy quietly greeted.
"Evening, Jeremy," Marionette spoke back. His tone was unreadable, but expectant. Again, he seemed to be waiting for something. Assuming that it was Mike, Jeremy headed back into the hall, where the security guard stepped out and was now checking his watch. He seemed lost in thought.
"Uh, Mike," Jeremy coughed. When Mike looked to him, he pointed awkwardly into the living room. "If you're taking a break, Mari's just… Hanging out in the living room. Maybe you two could hang out together- I don't know. I need to get going if I'm going to get that part." In one quick explanation, Jeremy explained the situation, directed Mike, and then wiped his hands clean of it. Without another word, he headed to the door, hoping to avoid any form of confrontation.
Mike wandered into the living room and found the Puppet in the same position that Jeremy had. "Checking up on me?" he inquired with the raise of a brow. The striped one didn't answer this and simply watched as he moved to sit down in the armchair's twin. "Shockingly enough, I actually have an airtight alibi tonight. It's not one I'm proud of, but it's the truth," Mike assured as he glanced over. "You're being quiet."
"I just wanted to see how it was going," Marionette corrected, but didn't answer Mike's partial question. "I wasn't sure how long something like this would take."
"Until it's fixed or until we give up and call a professional? One of those outcomes feels a lot closer than the other," Mike joked. Marionette was still emotionally distant; it was obvious that Mike would have to be more direct. Marionette paused to turn and look around the room, briefly pausing with his head turned to the clock, and then spoke once more.
"If you have the time, I was hoping we could have a bit of a talk," Marionette suggested. It only would've sounded innocent if Mike thought he wasn't fishing for answers. "More specifically about what happened last night."
"What's there to say? I climbed into bed, minding my own business, and you jumped me." A slight tinge of a smirk passed his lips. "You've been spending too much time with your brother. It's bad enough having nightmares of him jumping me." There was a moment of a chime, but it was suppressed.
"I meant where you have been going," Marionette directly inquired. He now turned to face Mike, his smile gone and the seriousness evident. "I could care less about you slipping out at night. I just want to know why."
It could've been so easy to say it then, but Mike still couldn't figure out how to go about this. Telling Marionette the truth would involve him admitting that he was sneaking out to play cat and mouse with a group of strange, competitive animatronics. There was so much that could wrong with this. So, Mike spoke through instinct and tested the waters.
"What if I couldn't tell you?" Mike asked and promptly regretted it. "In theory, I mean. What if I just couldn't tell you?"
"I'd be concerned," Marionette admitted. His features softened as the worry crept in.
"And what if I couldn't tell you yet?" Mike further asked, both trying to stay quiet and trying to comfort. "That I would soon, but for whatever reason I'm forced to be quiet about it?"
"I'd be very concerned," Marionette continued. His voice grew softer now.
"But you trust me, right?" He almost didn't want to ask this. "Mari, you know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right? I mean, everything I do is for us. You trust me on this much, right?" In the moment of silence following this, he reached out onto the armrest and laid his hand on the dark one resting there. This had practically been the closest they had been since this week of Hickory's had begun. It was the first time when it really wasn't in between them, even though Mike was currently trying to assure the Puppet without saying anything concrete.
Marionette turned his hand over and squeezed his fingers around Mike's.
"I trust that you would never hurt me, Mike," Marionette assured. His hand tightened on Mike's, "But I can't trust that you won't get yourself hurt."
"I'll tell you everything, okay?" Mike finally agreed. "You just have to trust me for now… I'll explain what's going on, I promise, I just can't yet." He had to, he couldn't wait any longer. Mike didn't want to wait any longer… But this also led to another decision. While sitting there, talking about the sneaking around, he decided that he would return to Hickory's. This all couldn't be for nothing.
"It's… Difficult for me to accept that," Marionette admitted. His other hand retracted from the armrest and he laid it across his middle, almost protectively. "Goldie used to ask me to accept what he said without question and now I know that there were some things I should have questioned. I know he hid just as much as my father- Fredrick, I mean- did. I'm not preferable to secrets." He was going to hate himself for this later, he already knew it. "…But unfortunately, I trust you… As long as you promise me that you are not in over your head."
That was a low blow, comparing him to Goldie. Perhaps Marionette didn't realize it.
"I'm not. I've got this all under control," Mike reassured. He tightened his grip on the Puppet's hand. While Mike truly believed what he was saying, he couldn't help but feel badly about what was happening. "I'm not like Goldie." More specifically, he wasn't hiding information to control Marionette, but he decided not to say that out loud. It was too likely that it could offend him. "…When I come home tonight, I'll tell you everything," Mike slipped out. A heaviness started to lift from his shoulders, "You just have to promise not to freak out."
"I won't promise anything. I could very well follow you wherever you've been going and then have a moment," Marionette challenged, but his tone was lighter. It almost seemed like he was just as relieved, "But you've survived my moments."
"I live for your moments. I survive your freak outs," Mike quipped with a sly smile. Then the conversation was largely over. Mike stood to return to helping Fritz and, before he could say anything further, Marionette slid out of the chair and embraced him, holding him tightly. Mike hugged him back and regretted what he was going to do. Regretted that he was still going back.
"That's a lot better than I thought. I thought you were sneaking out here to smoke." Mike slightly hesitated at Natalie's voice as she passed by to the front door, checking to see if Jeremy had already left.
"I don't smoke," Mike pointed out. Since Marionette made no move to pull back, he made no move to separate.
"That's what I thought, but you can never really tell," Natalie pointed out. She then pulled out her cell and began to dial Jeremy's number. As she did this, Marionette finally released Mike. He didn't leave immediately and even followed as Mike returned to Fritz's bathroom to check in, but eventually he did go. This left Mike alone with his decision.
He would handle one more night and then he would tell Marionette. Then his conscious would be clean. Then they would figure out together if it was worth a fifth night.
Mike felt uneasy even before the night started. There was just a foreboding feeling and he couldn't tell if it was the lasting feeling of coming here against Marionette's wishes or it was just remembering the night before. He hadn't been able to smuggle in the music box, so he felt massively underprepared.
But he needed answers and answered the phone as soon as the call came. "Hello?" Mike greeted. It was Jennifer, as expected, but something sounded a bit off.
"Hey, welcome to Thursday night at the Funcade! Are you ready?" Jennifer chirped out. Before Mike could answer, she interrupted him, "Let me answer that; no. You are not ready for what's coming tonight, so you need to listen to me. Chance ratted you out; I know about you running around the Funcade all night. That stops now." Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes at the scolding, until Jennifer continued. "Because if you pull anything like that tonight, you're going to get yourself seriously hurt. Bobby Black Sheep comes out tonight."
Something about it was both amusing and overwhelmingly disturbing. Such an innocent sounding name and yet Mike knew it was misleading. Naturally the most innocent would be the most aggressive, especially being that this would be the eighth and final animatronic.
"Bobby Black Sheep is Bo Peep's second sheep, but don't think it's another small thing you can nudge around. It's a full sized animatronic and it is much more determined to get to you. Bobby only comes out between one and one-thirty, three and three-thirty, and sometimes at five. So, it will leave you alone after these intervals of thirty minutes, but it is during these moment that you really need to be worried."
"I'll keep an eye out. How do I scare it off?" Mike inquired. He sent a glance over at the stage, hearing Hickory moving around.
"You don't. You just wait it out," Jennifer answered.
"No, come on, seriously. I won't leave the office, I just need to know how to defend myself," Mike stated with slight exasperation. This evaporated soon afterwards.
"You can't scare off Bobby. It's right now in the play tunnels, but it will come out, come to the office, and try to find you, and there's nothing that scares it off and nothing that works to deflect it… The only way to avoid it is to play a form of hide and seek. Basically, hide before it appears and hope it doesn't find you. Hiding under the desk, or in the supply closet when it sees you, just won't work…" Jennifer herself sounded anxious at the reveal. It was like she was genuinely worried about his safety and that worried him.
"Why hasn't anyone tried to fix it?" Mike asked as he watched Hickory step down and wander off. "We were talking about Afton's; why didn't it get sent back to Afton's for maintenance?"
"Afton basically shut down all contact after the fiasco with the missing monkey. I know some people tried to work on it. Chance tried to work on it, but it keeps- Bobby will undo any fixing. Bobby will break itself and nobody knows why." There was a moment of quietness. "Bobby is almost completely broken in the sense that there is no way to control it. During the day it stays still, but at night it turns into this. All of these animatronics do this, act like this, and nobody really knows why."
"But there is a reason," Mike insisted, "and if you know then I need you to tell me. Maybe there's a way to fix it."
"…I'm going to do a little investigating tonight," Jennifer suddenly admitted. "I've got some of the old files and… I'm going to see if I can find anything. It's about time that someone figured out what is wrong with them. They aren't supposed to act like this."
"I know," Mike admitted.
"And you know, there's rumors that this was going on at Freddy's too," Jennifer pointed out, getting more wound up with each word. "That they had animatronics over there that were attacking staff!"
"I know," Mike admitted.
"…You do?" Jennifer quietly asked. The phone call became silent as Mike refused to say anything more. He didn't have to answer that question. "Oh… Oh, that explains some things…" This was followed with an uncomfortable silence. Neither Mike nor Jennifer really knew what to say at this point. "Uh… I guess I'll let you go."
"Anything else I should know?" Mike dared to inquire. "I couldn't bring that tape recorder in."
"That could've helped with Bobby… But then again, it only works sometimes. It might not even work on Bobby like intended…" It was clear that Jennifer was pulling back now that he had revealed that he knew more than let on previously. Thankfully, Mike still hid behind a fake name and the possibility of not returning the next night. He was already considering a list of excuses to get out of it. "Just… Keep an eye out, don't hide in the same place twice, and I'm going to see what I can find out. If you had some idea of what happened with Freddy's, then maybe we can figure out what's going on."
Now Jennifer was falling into the same trap as Mike, which he didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. It meant that she wouldn't tell on him to the higher ups, at least, but it could mean that he would be coerced to give out answers about Freddy's. Which was safe enough unless she somehow linked him to Foxy's.
"I'm going to hang up. Stay safe," Jennifer forewarned and the call ended. Now Mike was stuck with the incoming threat of the animatronics.
For the first hour, everything was business as usual. Sly had appeared and hid behind one of the nearby Skee ball machines, intending to rush the office if Mike got distracted, but he had managed to keep him back. Hickory and Dickory continued to circle the office, but didn't detect him. Again, it was only the first hour, so Mike wasn't too surprised. What did start to alarm him was the change between twelve thirty and one o'clock.
The sheep passed by once, Boy Blue appeared twice without much activity, the mice stopped passing by, Bo Peep didn't even appear once, and as one in the morning crept closer, Sly all but vanished from immediate sight. Mike was left entirely alone and he knew that this was because of the arrival of Bobby. He watched the cameras and his watch, waiting for the final animatronic to appear.
It was only a few minutes after one when Mike was alerted to a new sound. It was a dull thumping and rustling sound coming from the inside of the plastic play tunnels, and he only knew this from the direction and the clear sound of scuffling on plastic. He tried to get glance through the camera, but none of them aimed in the direction towards the tunnels. There was a sliding noise that was followed by a rustling in the ball pit as something fell out of the slide and landed amongst the colorful spheres.
Mike decided to act by trying the closet on the wall behind him. To his luck, it was left unlocked, and so he slid inside. The closet was incredibly tight and filled with various cleaning supplies. It reeked of lemon scented clearer and he couldn't risk moving anything or he would risk making noise. Unfortunately, the slits on the top of the door, which seemed perfect to look through from the outside, were almost impossible to look through at such an angle. Mike was lift blind in a tight, dark room.
But as his sight left him, his hearing took its place. It only took a few minutes, but something entered the office. The noise was strange, as though it was dragging a lame limb along the ground, but it also sounded like it was moving with four legs; like a sheep would if designed with the smaller one in mind. It didn't much of a vocal noise except for an airy hum, like a computer would make if under duress. Frankly, Mike wondered if Jennifer had exaggerated about Bobby's behavior, but decided to take her advice.
The animatronic left the office after only ten minutes, but Mike hesitated on leaving and instead cracked the door enough to see his watch in the light. "I could be standing in my own closet right now and probably would make more an hour," Mike mentally remarked. Then he noticed the distant sound of the animatronic. He pressed his ear against the crack and listened in. "She's in the hall… Coming this way." Mike considered waiting and getting a glimpse of the animatronic, but then decided to pull back into the closet and shut the door.
The rest of the time until one-thirty was rather uneventful. It continued circling around and eventually returned to the ball pit. Mike left the supply closet and returned to his seat, and could hear the scratching and scuffling as Bobby climbed back into the tunnels. So far, so good. Less than ten minutes later, Boy Blue reappeared and started fiddling with the thermostat; it was back to normal.
The animatronics did become more antsy around this time. Now Mike had to keep a constant eye out for both Doc and Bo Peep as they were setting each other off. The Sheep would hit Hickory's foot, Bo Peep would rush in, Doc would rush in, and Mike would watch from the desk with a look of disbelief. The smallest noise would alert them and they were on constant patrol. The only thing that seemed to be in Mike's favor was that the animatronics didn't actively wander into the office. It was as though they couldn't actually tell that the office was there.
Except Sly; Sly kept his eyes on the prize. Sly continued to creep closer to the office, eventually getting close enough that Mike was unable to get up and fix the thermostat. Sly was the threat of the evening, Mike believed, but he just couldn't make it into the office. A few minutes before three and Sly was still peering around the corner on the right side of the office. It almost seemed like the weasel was determined enough to stay even though all the other animatronics had vanished.
Only a minute or two after three and Mike recognized the clatter and noise of the animatronic sliding into the ball pit. It had been so abrupt that he slightly twitched in response; he wouldn't admit to jumping. He kept his eyes on Sly and watched with even more surprise, as Sly reacted immediately to the sound. The weasel's head turned and it stared down towards the ball pit. Then, without a single noise or any other cues, Sly disappeared down the hall. Almost like he was avoiding Bobby, as Mike guessed before.
But Bobby was different this time. It was faster and Mike could hear its heavy footsteps and trademark dragging sound. Remembering Mike's suggestion, he left the office and headed down the opposite hallway that Sly took. Halfway down the hall, Sly poked his head around the end of the hall.
"Damn it…" Mike muttered. His options were limited; he could already hear the black sheep coming in this direction. Keeping his eyes on Sly, Mike slipped into the closest bathroom and let the door close behind him. Considering what he saw earlier, he just assumed that the two animatronics would get stuck on each other and neither would be able to get the bathroom door open. Either way, Mike locked himself into the middle stall and stood uncomfortably, intending on sitting out the thirty minutes standing in a cold, stagnant bathroom.
Still, it could've been worse. It could've been Freddy's… And then the bathroom door started to open.
"Of course. Why do I even try?" Mike mentally muttered as he stepped up onto the toilet. He inwardly cringed as he braced himself on the edges of the stall. "I think I would've had an easier time throwing myself into a dumpster. Might've been cleaner." The dull dragging noise echoed through the bathroom as the animatronic shuffled along beside the stalls. Mike's interest piqued and he considered peering over the stall to get a look. It would be an awkward motion, but he was tall enough to lean forward and look over the stall.
He just barely managed to not lose his footing as he leaned forward and looked over the top of the stalls. He almost wished that he hadn't, because he wasn't ready for what he saw crawling along the floor.
Jennifer hadn't exaggerated when she said that Bobby was broken. The sheep's arms and legs were turned so that it could shuffle on all fours, even though it was obviously made to walk on its legs like the normal animatronics. It had on tattered clothes and faux black wool, but the wool peeled back on its arms and legs to reveal the endoskeleton hiding underneath. It struggled to peddle itself along the ground and reached a flimsy hand under the stall door.
However, Mike was less worried about that and much more concerned by its face. Its face was slid up to the top of its head and the plastic mask stared with empty eyeholes and a gaping smile. It was clear that the mask had slid off the endoskeleton head and now sat useless on the top of its hidden face. From this view, it was almost impossible to see where its real face was looking. Indeed, it was broken, but this was more unsettling than Mike could've imagined. Especially since it had been revealed that it did this to itself.
Bobby seemed to give up on the stall that Mike was in and moved onto the next one. It didn't seem like it noticed the door was locked and continued to struggle to push itself along. With a bang, it knocked open the third stall, seemingly believing he was in it. With a deep inhale, Mike unlocked the latch on the door and leapt out. He made a break toward the door and flung himself through.
As soon as Mike stumbled through the bathroom door, the rapid sound of approaching footsteps reminded him that Sly had not left. Mike turned and made a mad dash around the corner, finding himself face to face with Bo Peep who was standing in front of the desk. She turned her head to him, let out a mechanically shrill cry, and reached out for him. Mike ducked under her arms and put the desk between them, turning around just in time to see Sly rush in. He struggled with his flashlight, still in his belt, as he hurried back to the supply closet and threw himself into it.
Sly caught the door before Mike could shut it and it became a tug of war. All of Mike's senses were dulled and most thoughts were completely erased. Between Bo Peep still making shrill calls from the desk and Bobby due to appear at any moment, he was about to be fully cornered. He used his weight to hold the door semi-closed and used his free hand to finally get the flashlight free. Instantly, he let go of the door and it flung open. Sly proceeded to shove his grotesque face into opening, only to have the light of the flashlight shined directly into its eyes.
Once Sly's grip went slack, Mike slammed the supply closet door shut and shut the animatronics out. Then he waited and listened. He could hear when Sly left, he could hear Bo Peep continue to shriek until she left to avoid Bobby, and he could hear Bobby's scuttling into the office. While he had avoided Bobby twice already, Mike had a feeling that it truly was dangerous, and decided it was best to avoid the sheep as much as possible. By three-thirty, Bobby finally returned to the ball pit, and Mike stepped back out into the office.
The next hour and a half was eventful enough. The animatronics only became more determined in their efforts as they continued to pass by the office. Bo Peep was especially restless and reacted to seeing Mike by emitting shrieks. Most of the time she would leave, but as it got closer to five in the morning, Bo Peep became more restless. The final straw finally came only a few minutes after five. Mike was already supposed to be on the lookout for Bobby, but the sheep had made no attempt to leave the tunnels. Just the same, the other animatronics had not made any attempt to leave.
Mike was about ready to slip out when Bo Peep threw another 'tantrum'. She stood outside the office and let of a perturbed shriek, but seemed either unwilling or unable to circle the office desk. While it was annoying, Bo Peep's yells had not drawn attention from the other animatronics and usually were brief before she eventually left.
This time, someone took attention, and Bo Peep's shriek was followed by the guttural groan of Doc. Out of reflex, Mike slid underneath the desk and prepared to hold out until Doc left. The mouse slammed his fists onto the desk only once before it did something new. It gripped the edge of the desk and began to lift, struggling with it. It couldn't lift the heavy desk at this rate, Mike realized, but the sound of approaching footsteps forewarned coming danger.
It was like Doc had summoned the other mice to his aid, as Hickory and Dickory stepped out of the woodwork and stood at the desk. They too reached down and grabbed the edges of the desk, and then eagerly tried to assist Doc in lifting it up. The desk started to raise and Mike knew his hiding spot was now worthless. Quickly, he climbed out under the only safe side of the desk and decided to cut his losses. With brief consideration, he decided to shove himself past Hickory, the slower and weaker of two mice blocking his way, and made a break for the hall beside the bathrooms.
Bo Peep was the one hounding his trail. She walked with speedy, but swift steps, with her hands reaching out grasping after the security guard. "Screw five-twenty, I'm leaving now," Mike muttered as he hurried down to the exit door. He pressed on the door and attempted to shove it open, but there was resistance.
"What?" Mike muttered and pushed again. The door refused to give. "Damn it!" he muttered under his breath and took a step back, checking his watch. "It can't unlock at five-twenty… I've had to been early at least once. This doesn't make sense," Mike mentally assessed the scenario with disbelief. There wasn't an obvious lock on the door and the metal door was too heavy to knock down. He checked his watch; five-seven. Thirteen minutes to kill; thirteen minutes was plenty enough to get him killed.
As Bo Peep rounded the corner, Mike made the decision to try the front door. He hurriedly passed the hallway by the office and got only as far as the aisle tucked between the machines when his way was blocked. There, waiting at the end and peeking around, was none other than Sly. Mike only had a moment to register this before he heard the thundering footsteps behind him and looked back just long enough to see Doc slam into the arcade machines in his attempt to circle the corner.
Mike darted down the aisle between the machines, looking back in time to see Sly peer around the corner and then promptly be knocked aside by Doc barging through. It tilted its head in a crooked fashion as it ran, attempting to hear and locate the human, and Mike picked up the pace. Hickory and Dickory waited to catch him at the end of the aisle, blocking him from the front door, but Mike skidded out of the way and ran for the office again. Right as he prepared to run down the hall, back to the back doors, he came to a halt.
Sly had ran to one of the halls beside the office while Bo Peep was blocking the other. Hickory, Dickory, and Doc were still moving in, blocking his access to the front doors, only slowing down for a moment to regain their bearings. Inside of the office, waiting slumped at the front of the desk, was Boy Blue. They were all here and they were all cornering him back towards the kitchen. Mike knew that the kitchen was a death sentence; there was no escape from inside and the chances of hiding were very unlikely.
He scrambled for an escape. His phone, his flashlight- and then fell back on one desperate idea. He had not brought the music box, but maybe these animatronics were like Marionette. "Maybe they'll react to a voice… It could be the song, not what plays it," Mike mentally accessed. "Well, if this goes bad then I'm dead anyway. Might as well just go through with it." With that single thought, Mike inhaled and took a step back as Doc started to threateningly move in.
"~My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor." To Mike's immediate surprise, Doc came to an abrupt halt. Spurred on by this, he continued the song. "~It was taller by half than the old man himself, though weight not a single pound more." The animatronics looked restless and… twitchy. Especially Sly; Sly wasn't reacting well to the music, but that didn't mean that they were coming any closer.
"~It was bought on the morn of the day he was born and was always his treasure and pride…" Mike paused for a moment, feeling his heart palpitating. "~But it stopped, short, never to go again when the old man died." Maybe, just maybe, he could get around the stage. He took a step closer to it and the edge of the ball pit. The animatronics seemed to just stare, as though entranced.
It had always fascinated him how Marionette both reacted to and controlled music. While songs could easily affect him, Mike had witnessed this, he had also witnessed Marionette using music to influence other animatronics. The thought that he had somehow figured out a loophole in this phenomenon- perhaps it was the songs and not the singers- had suddenly turned the tides in his favor.
"~Ninety years without slumbering, his life second numbering," Mike murmured as he approached the stage, closing in. They watched him with widened eyes and he stared back. "~It stopped." Closer. "~Short." Almost to the stage. "~Never to go again when the old man…" Mike trailed off at the sound of something squeaking in very close proximity. Then a gentle rustling, along with the familiar sound of sliding metal. His blood ran cold and his pulse only quickened as he turned back, bracing himself.
There was Bobby, lifting itself out of the ball pit and hunched down on its broken and battered arms and legs. Its plastic 'face' was still slid up onto the top of its head as it cocked its head upwards and revealed the skull-like endoskeleton hidden under the ratty wool. Its cold, yellow eyes locked onto him and he knew in an instant that he was out of time.
It wasn't the song that had stopped the animatronics. They just hadn't wanted to get any closer to Bobby.
With a croak of a howl, an unholy noise that sounded less like something a sheep would make and more like something a wolf would choke out, Bobby sprung forward. Mike was knocked back against the stage as it pawed at him with useless hands and bared chipped, sharpened endoskeleton teeth. Its head struck towards his throat and Mike had less than a second to shield himself with his arm. The teeth shredded through his jacket and sliced his skin easily and with all the force it would've used on his neck.
The other animatronics watched silently as the black sheep attempted to maul Mike. It shook its head and tore further into the flesh and fabric. The pain was immediately numbed by the adrenaline and Mike was more than prepared to fight back. He grabbed for his belt as he tried to shove Bobby off with his foot. It was obvious that Bobby wasn't going to release its grip, even though its endoskeleton mouth was supposed to be weaker. Mike briefly released his belt and grabbed Bobby by the top of the head, angling the 'sheep's' head back.
The mask stretched and tore underneath his grasp; it was as flimsy and limp as over stretched rubber. Eventually he managed to get ahold of the metal skull through the exterior and pried further back, using blunt force to contort the animatronic back. Bobby's neck cracked as its head tilted back, but it felt no pain. It simply continued to try and push back. Finally, its teeth released from Mike's arm and he reached down with his injured arm for something on his belt. Then he released his hold on Bobby's head and tried to hold it back with his foot alone.
Bobby swung its head forward and dove in with every intention to bite again. Mike thrust his hand forward at the last second.
Bobby's attack was abruptly halted by seizing as electricity crackled through its body. Mike pulled himself back against the stage, careful not to touch the animatronic, and kept the tazer firmly planted on the side of its skull. The smell of burning wool became overpowering and he swore he could see the faintest smoke.
As soon as the tazer was yanked back, Bobby slumped to the ground and Mike scrambled back to his feet. He turned on the other animatronics and threateningly held out the tazer, ignoring the burning in his arm.
"Which one is next?!" he threatened. "I've fried things bigger and stronger than any of you! One wrong move and it's another controlled shock!" They didn't respond and he didn't know if they even understood him, but they didn't move in. He grabbed his flashlight and stepped up onto the stage to scoot by the group, keeping his back to the stage and the wall. None of them moved, save Bobby who proceeded to slide back into the ball pit. Other than that, the arcade was extremely quiet, and he checked his watch. Two minutes to spare.
Mike dropped down off the stage and passed within five feet of Bo Peep. Before he headed down the hall, he did a headcount of the group. They all were there, but Sly was already standing at the opening to the other hall at the other side of the office. Tightening his grip on the tazer, Mike turned and hurried down the hall. As expected, he heard rapid footsteps and quickened his pace. He knew that it was Sly and was entirely unsurprised to see him peering around when he turned the corner.
"Don't do it," Mike threatened, pointing the tazer at him. "Don't even try it, weasel. I swear, I'll fry you for fun." He hurried to the door, keeping his back against it and waiting for the lights to die. A few seconds passed, then a few more, and then the lights died. Mike threw himself back against the door and Sly sprinted after him, but the security guard just barely managed to make a mad dash across the parking lot to his care. Not that Sly followed; as before, the weasel refused to step out of the door.
It wasn't until Mike was in the car with the door slammed shut that he felt anywhere close to safe. He turned on the car and began to speed out of the parking lot. His heart was pounding and his vision began to narrow as his speed picked up. Then, all at once, the pain hit him and he remembered that he had been injured. Between that and the fact that he was driving fast enough to get pulled over, he knew he had to stop. One swerve later and Mike was sitting on the side of the road.
He could feel the panic setting in. Even though it was all over, even though he was safe, the panic was still creeping in. Like cold fingers crawling along his arms, it forewarned of danger that wasn't there, cloaking his vision in edges of darkness. Mike forced himself to breathe deeply and reached upwards to turn on the lights inside the car, then shrugged off his jacket. He winced at the movements as the blood stuck the fabric to his arm. Then he was finally able to see the damage that Bobby had done.
His skin was sliced deeply and was still lightly bleeding, but it wasn't as bad as he expected. "Doesn't need stitches… Probably. I'm not going back to the hospital," Mike muttered to himself. "Yeah, no, that's the last thing I need. Them asking questions about this kind of bite in the middle of the night, how would I even cover this up?" His uncomfortable mutters were abruptly cut off by a new realization; how would he hide this from Marionette? The simple answer was that he couldn't.
Marionette was going to be asking where he was and was going to notice the marks on his arm. Even if he could get it cleaned up, Mike couldn't erase the gashes, and the Puppet would surely notice them. The security guard rubbed his face tiredly and tried to suppress his trembling, the panic increasing. He felt a wave of nausea and threw open the driver's side door, leaning out into the cooler night air and forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. The results of one mistake was now branded on his arm.
It turned out that Mike was going to keep his promise; he was going to have to tell Marionette the truth.
He reached back for his uniform jacket and wrapped it around his forearm in a makeshift bandage, then shut the door and started to drive once more. It would just be easier if he got home as quickly as possible. As for now, Mike had to put his feeling aside, even as the panic gripped his body. He fought past it and continued driving, using the long stretch of road to calm down himself down. It almost worked.
He wasn't going back willingly. For once, he was going to make Thursday his final night.
"Mike!" Marionette chirped in delight as he slid the shoebox out from under his bed. "Mike, I found my Freddy figures! I didn't even remember that I still had these!" He gathered the shoebox into his arms and headed to his bedroom door, opening it with his telekinesis, and looking through his box of old 'Toy' toys. They looked almost just like the real thing, save the fact that he lacked one of himself. "Mike?" He called down the hallway and towards the living room. "Mike, where are you?"
Seeing that Mike wasn't in the living room, he looked over towards the kitchen and entered inside. He noticed the pantry door cracked and opened it to stare down into the stairs that led into the basement.
"Mike!" he called down into the basement. "Did you hear me?" There was no response and Marionette set the figures down on the steps before continuing down. "Where are you?"
"Hello!"
Marionette came to a sudden halt mid-way down the stairs. His voice went silent, his body went still, and he stared at the bottom of the stairs. After a few moments, he continued down and entered a large, dark room. It looked suspiciously like he was inside of Afton's from the flooring, but this was the basement, and Mike was down here somewhere.
"Mike?" Marionette called again, daring to use his voice once more. It echoed through the huge space. "Where have you gone?"
"Hi!"
Again, the cry of a familiar voice, but a voice that shouldn't have been able to speak at all. The Puppet continued a little further and was suddenly struck with a sight in the shadows. "BB?" To Marionette surprise, there stood a familiar figure in the center of the room. It was none other than Balloon Boy, standing alive and well. While it made little sense, the Puppet's confusion turned to joy. He chimed in delight as he looked down at his old friend. Balloon Boy responded with delighted laughter. Without a hitch, Marionette dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Balloon Boy-
-and Balloon Boy fell into pieces.
His head and arms, his exterior plates and pieces, everything simply fell apart in Marionette's arms. He stared down at the remains and at the head that stared at him with empty holes for eyes. It was only a shell; just as he had remembered. Suddenly, something dark and unsettling started to fall over the room.
"Where did the last one go?" Somewhere there was a muffled voice. Something about it was familiar, but he couldn't place where he had heard it. "Wasn't there supposed to be six of them?"
He didn't want to hear it. Marionette covered his face to hide himself from the voices that he couldn't block out. He remembered that voice. He remembered the sinking feeling of being entirely along, yet it felt as though dozens of eyes were staring down and judging him. It felt like abandonment; it felt like anger and sadness.
It smelled like copper. Marionette peered down at the remains of Balloon Boy only to find him missing, and in his place were a few droplets of blood resting on the floor.
"…Mike?" The animatronic looked forward and noticed more drops leading along the polished ground, and he followed them. They became more frequent until eventually breaking for a spatter across the floor. "Michael?!" There was just so much redness on the ground. So much blood. Too much; a human couldn't survive losing this much. The sound of dripping became louder and he passed a clump of bloody clothing.
He was panicking. Something had hurt Mike and now he was bleeding out. He wouldn't survive a third time. Marionette couldn't save him. He reached into the darkness before him and felt a cold hand reaching back-.
And suddenly Marionette was on the couch, sprawled out across it with his body dangerously close to falling off. The revelation that it was a nightmare did nothing to calm him down and he jolted out of the bed. All it took was an instant of seeing the bed empty and catching the five-twenty on the clock before he knew that Mike had not returned home. Any semblance of calmness was gone; Marionette was wound as tightly as he could be and he was just about to be sprung- just as soon as Mike got home.
Marionette didn't even try to return to sleep. He just circled the living room with static on his voice and the images of the nightmare pounding in his mind. He didn't want to think about the others, he didn't want to think about past decisions; he just wanted to think about what exactly he was going to say when Mike got home. If he could even talk straight once Mike got home. Even if he was relieved that Mike was going to be coming home, he couldn't let this go. He couldn't handle another night of this.
Eventually, Mike's car pulled into the driveway. Marionette stopped his pacing and proceeded to stand in front of the door, so that Mike would not be able to weasel past him. There was no covering his glare, which in and of itself covered the fear that still lingered from the nightmare. The key turned in the lock and the door opened to reveal the human in question, who immediately noticed Marionette. Meanwhile, the Puppet couldn't suppress the surge of static and was nearly overwhelmed by his dozens of questions.
Then he saw the blood. As soon as Marionette saw it caked onto his arm, the static turned into silence. The house went quiet.
"Don't be alarmed, it's just a couple of scratches," Mike forewarned as he pushed the door shut and locked it. In stark contrast to what he said, he looked visibly shaken and something just seemed off about his motions. Marionette closed the gap between them and took his arm into his hands, studying the injury. A look of horror passed his porcelain and he looked upwards at Mike in questioning. Mike didn't try to explain. He just looked away, trying to cover his guilt but not able to cover his shame.
Neither spoke, as neither knew what they were supposed to say. It took a few moments for Marionette to recover enough to look down from his staring and glance over the wound. With a soft noise resembling a sigh, he coaxed Mike to the couch with a gentle tug of his arm and then went for the first aid supplies. By time he returned, Mike was hunched over with his head in his hands, and only looked over once the other male settled on the couch beside him.
The Puppet guided his arm into his own lap and cradled it affectionately. He began to clean away the dried blood with a wet paper towel and proceeded by dabbing on peroxide. Mike decided not to watch, as he could feel everything that Marionette did and didn't feel comfortable watching it. He was having a hard-enough time sitting here when he was so physically and mentally exhausted. Marionette looked over at him, but remained silent in his concern to give the human a brief period of respite.
It was while applying the antibiotic ointment that Marionette abruptly realized what kind of wound it was. It was the pattern of the scratches, which were largely uniform, and their precise cut that alerted him that it was a bite wound. Suddenly the dream returned with a cold vengeance and all at once he knew it was from another animatronic. He didn't know where Mike was going or what he had been doing, or even which it was, but some other animatronic had gotten ahold of him and had gotten close enough to bite him.
Another animatronic had gotten ahold of Mike, of his Mike, and Marionette couldn't have stopped it in time.
Mike was pulled out of his daze by the feeling of something wet landing on his arm. He glanced over and noticed the purple that now stained his skin. His eyes widened and he looked upwards at Marionette, who wiped the purple away and began to bandage the wound with the supplies that were left-over from Mike's last injury. Marionette's face was solemn as he did his work, but the tears dripping down his mask were a dead giveaway to the emotions he was covering up.
"Mari…" Mike began, but didn't know what he was supposed to say. Everything felt so out of sorts that he wasn't certain what would be appropriate. "Don't cry, Mari. It's just a couple of scratches."
Marionette secured the bandages and finished his work, but then went largely idle, keeping ahold of Mike's arm. Tentatively, he laid his hand in Mike's; it felt almost identical to the dream. He couldn't suppress the out of tune noise that rang hollowly in his chest. Hearing this, Mike decided to no longer sit idly by and slid closer to wrap his uninjured arm around Marionette.
"I'm home now. It's all over, I promise," Mike assured as his hand slid to cup his mask. There was a comfort in the feeling of porcelain underneath his fingers. "I'm safe, you're safe, we're home… It's all fine." The exaggeration almost made Mike feel a bit better. He pulled Marionette in close to his chest and clung to him with reluctance to let go. The Puppet was originally unresponsive, seemingly entrapped by his own thoughts, but eventually returned the embrace. Marionette's grip was tight and protective, and absolutely unwavering.
Six in the morning had never felt so grim.
Mable: You can't win them all. At least this time it didn't cost a life.