Mable: Hello there! Here we are, back with a new chapter. The results of the poll are in and I'm moderately surprised, though delighted, on the results! ^-^ Even in the theater there must be a proper balance, even if there is a touch more tragedy to some tales… If you are interested, there is a new poll replacing it now. I know I'm interested to see the results of this one.
Marionetty: That's a good question! There's a reason I haven't outright brought up Foxy or Baby's 'real' names yet, but they will pop up sooner than you think. Marionette's real name actually is Marion, as it was the name of his late mother.
BlueGrey: I wanted to thank you for the amazing review. I'm so glad that the story has kept your interest for this long and truly hope that it continues to do so! I will be trying my hardest to only improve from here on out, and am hoping the next fourteen chapters do the others justice.
Let us begin!
Can't Go Home Again
Chapter Eighty-Six
The pizzeria was bright enough that it was nearly blinding. Everything look faded outside of the immediate table, but Marionette didn't mind it. He instead reached out and lifted a cake knife off the table, feeling its weight, and sliced into the cake before him. It wasn't a birthday cake but was still a party cake, to a party which he himself was throwing. He cut through it smoothly and drew out a piece to plop down on a paper plate with a Freddy face on it. He offered it over towards his Golden Freddy plush sitting at his side. The plush stared blankly back at him and he tilted his head.
"What?" Marionette asked in confusion. "Don't you like strawberry cake?" The plush didn't respond. Cinnamon, he thought. He probably would prefer cinnamon. At least Foxy would eat the cake. He now offered it to the plush on the opposite side, being the Foxy plush. "Et tu, Foxy? It's strawberry cake."
"I'll take it, Lad!" Foxy exclaimed as his plush body stared dead ahead. He followed Goldie's example of not moving, but seemed much cheerier. Marionette set it down as the Foxy plush began to babble. "But next time, we need chocolate. I take mine with chocolate icing, chocolate milk, chocolate flour, chocolate sprinkles, chocolate coins-." He continued to list as Marionette cut another slice and looked around to see where Mike was and if he had gotten back yet. It was then that he noticed there was someone else there.
Ennard stood in the blinding light on the far side of the pizzeria and watched silently. Marionette tilted his head and beckoned him closer. It took a moment of consideration before the clown reacted. Ennard knelt on the floor and twisted his head around, then crawled across the floor like a spider towards the table. He climbed into a chair on the opposite side and peeked over the edge of the table. The Puppet leaned to the side to look around the cake. They stared at each other for a few seconds.
"What are you doing?" Marionette curiously asked. Ennard's blue eyes shifted around the room.
"Who am I?" Ennard asked. The Puppet cocked his head again until the animatronic ducked his head down and then suddenly lifted fully into the chair. He was now wearing a head that looked like the Puppet Bonnie from the Funtime Freddy suit. Marionette chimed in surprise and Ennard raised his arms slowly. Out from behind the table he revealed two Puppet Bonnies now attached to the end of his hands. Delighted, Marionette clapped, even if he wasn't sure what he found so delightful about the scene.
"Yar, but can ya tell a story?" plush Foxy asked. "Spin us a yarn 'bout Bonnie's adventures in Captain Foxy's crew!"
"…A story?" Ennard asked, voice now high pitched and feminine. There was no doubt that he was mimicking Bonnie's voice. He then fell fully into character. "Silly Captain! I can't tell a story, but my friend Freddy might!" Ennard raised the puppet Bonnies on his hands to his face. They grabbed ahold of the plates of his mask and yanked it off. Underneath was a full Funtime Freddy mask. He switched to the masculine voice of the bear, "Hey there, kiddies! IIIIt's story ti-ime!"
"I'll tell the story."
Ennard immediately froze in place. The Foxy plush didn't say a single word. Marionette was the only one to physically respond, and he did so by turning to the golden plush who had spoken. He chimed and clasped his hands together, "Do tell. I would love a good story." The golden plush stared ahead without moving, but began to speak.
"Once upon a time, there were a group of children at a party. There was a big birthday cake and colorful balloons, and all the children were very happy. All the kids wanted to have a slice of the birthday cake, but decided not to eat any because it was for the birthday child. They waited patiently for their friend to arrive and resisted any temptation. After a grueling wait, the birthday child finally arrived and blew out the candles on the cake. He then looked to his friends and was happy to see that they had waited for him. 'You're such good friends', he praised. 'So, I'll give you a treat'."
Marionette was enraptured by the story as he cut a slice of cake and plated it for Ennard. He stared at the golden plush with all the eagerness of an excitable child waiting for a slither of cake.
"'Everyone gets one slice of cake', the child said. 'Let's all eat together.' He then handed out cake to all his friends. They were all happy to receive the cake and willing to eat it… Except for one. One child didn't want their cake and decided not to eat the slice. Everyone else ate without them, but because they hadn't eaten together it wasn't as sweet. The cake had looked so good, but because one child didn't want it they ruined it for everyone else. The child refused their treat, but in doing so squandered the rewards of the others."
There was an uncomfortable silence hanging over the table. Marionette had paused in his plating and was staring at the golden plush. The others at the table were all silent and hesitant. The story had left everyone equally uncomfortable. In explanation, Marionette looked to the cake. It was because of the cake; it should've been cinnamon.
It was then that there was a knocking at a distant door. The Puppet turned around and spotted the door in the shadows far behind him. A cold, large, grey door that stood against the back wall.
"We've been shanghaied!" the foxy plush blurted out. "I gotta hide!" A human hand reached out from under the table and grabbed the plush before yanking him underneath. Marionette now looked to Ennard; the puppets on his hands suddenly fell apart into pieces on the table and floor. He and Ennard stared at each other, as though testing to see which would answer the door.
Then, Ennard's Freddy faceplates started to slowly creak open and revealed his clown mask underneath. They held for a moment, then the clown mask started to creak open as well, revealing his endoskeleton face underneath. "They found me. They've come for me." He lowered his head to stare at the cake on the table.
"Nobody should answer it," Marionette remarked. "I certainly can't. The door might get shut on me while I'm inside… But…" Suddenly worry passed his face. "But it might be Mike. He never returned from Chipper's."
Slowly, as though not of his control, Marionette rose from the table and began to float over towards the door. Slowly he exited the warmth of the pizzeria and into the shadow of the heavy, metal door. He reached out and tried to turn the knob, but found that it was stuck and wouldn't move.
"Oh… The door's locked…" Marionette quietly remarked. He began to lean against the door and tried to listen through. "Mike?" he quietly called out. "Mike, I can't open the door…" He tried the knob again. There was no answer. "…Mike?" Still nothing and Marionette felt a chill down his spine. Something was terribly wrong. "I can't hear anything…" Slowly, he turned to face his companions, but they were gone. The pizzeria was gone, the table, the cake, everything was gone and replaced with a cold parts and service room.
There a cold, headless suit slumped on the floor. Hair stuck out of the gaping maw of the neck as the suit stayed hunched and unmoving. There was a dull dripping through the cold back room as the empty heads stared them down. It was just him alone in this room.
This wasn't a dream. It was a memory.
Marionette awoke with a start and stared at the roof of the van. The soft lull of classical music played through the stereo of the van. Mike wasn't too interested in classical music, which meant that he must've noticed Marionette had fallen asleep and put the music on for his benefit. He was still on the cusp of sleep, so it would've been easy to return to it, but the uneasiness left behind after such an odd dream made him reluctant. He raised himself upwards and moved closer to the front seats.
He gave a light chime of greeting as he rested his arms on the console between the seats. Mike sent him a glance, "Afternoon, Bright Eyes. How was the nap?"
"Peculiar. I had a strange dream. Ennard was in it," Marionette answered as he tiredly rubbed his mask. "How much further?"
"Not too far. Maybe about twenty minutes if I push the speed limit a little," Mike remarked as he checked the clock. "What was Ennard doing? Or are you going to leave it to my imagination?"
"We were eating cake with Foxy and then the cops came. Or it was you. Really, it could've been anyone… Then at the end it turned into a memory," Marionette uncomfortably shifted in place. He didn't really want to turn the mood of the drive to reflect the memory. "…I must have been somewhat aware of my surroundings. I remembered that you were out, but for some reason I was eating cake with Ennard."
"I leave for five minutes and you start eating cake with Ennard," Mike tsked with a playful shake of his head. "If you're looking to make me jealous, you could aim a little higher."
"I considered it, but it was either Ennard or Foxy, and I rather not make you jealous with my own brother. My strings were tied!" Marionette playfully answered. He looked around on the road and after noticing that it was mostly barren, slid into the passenger seat easily. He slid down just enough that he wouldn't be in immediate view from the road.
"Uh huh, sure," Mike teasingly added. "How about the memory? I'm guessing Ennard's antics."
"Something along those lines, but it isn't important," Marionette dismissed as he looked out the window. "Do you think the game will be worth it?"
"Maybe, but it's really to corner Glenn. There's nothing more suspicious than a guy completely ignoring a question to peddle his wears," Mike pointed out with his suspicion obvious. "The game's a bonus, but the top priority is to get a look into this mysterious entrepreneur."
When Mike had called Glenn, from what Marionette knew, Glenn had offered an arcade machine to buy and had absolutely ignored any questions about ARI. Which either meant that he knew something, or meant he was trying to resell an arcade machine as fast as possible. This meant it could very well be haunted, but that was the least of their problems. At least it would be better than being broken. While Mike did want to ask Marionette more about the memory, he picked up the withdraw. Unlike Glenn, who he would willingly call out on being dodgy, he decided not to press any further.
Instead, he reached forward to flip through the radio channels, eventually landing on something faster and more appropriate for a road trip like they were taking. Chipper's was about as they expected it to be, save the large sign in the window that said, 'closed for renovation'. Mike studied the sign for a moment as he pulled into one of the free spaces. Marionette climbed into the back again and discreetly concealed himself behind Mike's seat.
"Let's hope Chipper is the first thing on the list of renovations," Mike remarked as he slipped on his hat. "This shouldn't take long. Keep out of view of the windows; Glenn might start creeping around the van." He then got out of the car and headed inside, all while Marionette sat in the van and waited. His thoughts went back to the dream.
"Did it mean anything?" Marionette questioned himself as he looked around the back of the van. "…It wasn't like the other dreams where Ennard was reaching out to me, but he did feel real… Didn't he? Perhaps I'm overthinking this…" He rubbed his hands over his face wearily. "I must just be worried about this ARI situation, and the memory… It's just a memory." He wasn't entirely sure if he believed this. "It must be something."
He could hear a distant rumbling noise and peered out the window. There was Glenn, Mike, and some unknown third person wheeling the machine out on a cart. Realizing that he needed to hide, he grabbed a nearby tarp and yanked it over his body, easily disguising himself from view. The back was opened, and the three men lifted the machine inside. It was a heavy, uncomfortable job.
"This thing better run, Glenn," Mike forewarned. "If I find out that I practically broke my back lifting a hunk of junk, I'm driving it back here and dumping it off on your doorstep." Glenn gave a light laugh.
"Trust me, it works fine," Glenn affirmed as he patted the machine. "I just need the cash and not the machines. We're closing the entire arcade section and are going to reopen with a new show. It's going to cost money, but it should turn a profit. These old bots could use a makeover." Mike decided to not make any comments, but he couldn't agree more. Instead, he started to tether the machine to the side of the van.
"So, uh… About Afton's. You hear anything on it?" Mike bluntly asked. He had guided Glenn back here so that Marionette could hear too and now looked to the man with interest. Glenn got a briefly strained look and gave a slow exhale.
"Yeah, something… You head back inside. I'll be in later," Glenn instructed his worker. The man did so without asking questions. Once he was out of earshot, Glenn looked to Mike. "He was calling here last week about buying animatronics."
"You're kidding," Mike muttered. He knew Glenn had been keeping something secret. "Who even is he?"
"No idea. He gave me some phony name, something really fake-sounding… Something like Chad or Chris. Claimed he was opening a new business and was looking to pick up some old animatronics for the business or for scrap…" The older man hesitated for a moment and continued. "I didn't think of it at the time, but he brought up Foxy's."
Mike felt a tinge of alarm shoot through his back. "Oh yeah? What about?" He kept his cool well considering that suspicion was sinking in.
"He was asking if you had any animatronics for sale," Glenn pointed out. "I don't know who this guy is, but he reeks of bad news. Just some guy popping up out of the woodworks-," he shut the van doors. "Buying Afton's and calling here. We're over an hour or two drive, right? How did it get to him to call here?" He rested his hand on the edge of the van, then pointed to Mike. "And then that nervous guy who used to work for Freddy's called and started asking questions."
"You mean the Phone Guy? The guy who does all the recordings?" Mike asked. Glenn nodded in agreement. "He's on the till. Don't worry about him. He's searching out info for Foxy's… You know, the usual when competition rolls into town," he lightly joked. He could afford to considering that both understood the gravity of the situation. "So, you're thinking he's a Freddy man?"
"I'd think he was Fredrick himself if he wasn't six feet under," Glenn affirmed with a thump on the edge of the van. He then looked back to Mike and got an exasperated look. "Don't go over there."
"I have no plans to go back there," Mike firmly and honestly stated. "Unless he steals my Puppet. Then it's personal."
"I'll say. I don't think they make those anymore," Glenn agreed. "Back on topic. Hooking up this machine should be about as easy as…" Marionette's interest trailed off as Glenn started to explain the machine itself to Mike. Instead, his focus was on the newfound information.
"So, he wants animatronics… Ennard could've very well hid in another shell to disguise himself as a normal animatronic, and is now trapped inside ARI because of it," Marionette accessed as he tightened his grip on the tarp. "…This doesn't bode well." Part of him felt defensive of Foxy, especially if someone was showing an interest in him. He could only imagine someone trying to break in and take Foxy, and the thought was rather unnerving. He stayed silent even when Mike climbed back inside and sat down in the driver's seat.
"I'm sure you heard that," Mike remarked. "Did you hear after he shut the van doors?" He looked through the mirror into the back, watching as the Puppet slid out from under the tarp with a nod. "We're going to have to keep an eye out for whoever this is, but I think this pretty much confirms that me rushing over there, lying about my name or not, is going to put us in a bad position. He pretty much knows exactly who we are…" Which was frustrating, as Mike didn't want to get stuck in the position where he couldn't act.
"I wonder if he's been watching us…" Marionette murmured lowly. The thought was unnerving, because only now did he wonder if Afton's had been full of cameras that he hadn't noticed. Usually he felt if someone or something was watching him, but he could've become too familiar with the sensation during the pizzeria. Or he was too distracted and damaged by Ennard to fully pay attention. "I would expect a call any day asking about purchasing one of us."
"That's not going to happen," Mike firmly stated. After this determined proclamation, he paused a moment. "…I mean, yes, he might call, but he's not getting ahold of anyone. Not even Jeremy's dozen or so miniatures. Not even Ennard, if we can ever figure out where in the hell he went."
"I think him receiving Ennard as an animatronic for a budding pizzeria is enough cause him to quit," Marionette murmured to lighten the mood. However, he was slowly becoming more unnerved by the situation, along with the fact that he felt like he needed to do something and simply couldn't.
"So, what now? I'm not really feeling like getting back on the road yet," Mike explained. Indeed, driving would just mean that he would have a long expanse of time to just think about how they couldn't act and didn't know what was going on. "I don't know, maybe I'll stop by a drive through or something. I didn't have lunch." Marionette considered this as well. Waiting in the car was not an issue for him. Over the years he had spent plenty of mind numbing hours waiting in his box, so waiting a few minutes so that Mike could eat was nothing to him.
Though there was another option as well. "…I guess I could call Mom and see if she wanted to meet up somewhere. She hasn't called since Christmas and considering the drive we've already taken, it wouldn't be too far out of range…" He then gave a weary huff and slid down further in his seat. "But God, I don't want to answer questions."
"You're purchasing an arcade machine from a business partner. It was out of the blue, which is why you didn't call. I'm in the car to keep you awake on the ride home," Marionette laid out quickly. "And, of course, Foxy's Pirate Pizza is not affiliated with Afton Robotics. Any similarities in characters, location, or employees is inconsequential and should be ignored for maximum experience."
"…Alright, I'll call," Mike caved and brought out his cell to dial her number, "But if she asks, don't bring up the sweater."
"I intend to," Marionette quickly answered.
"If you do, I'm going to convince her to smother you all night," Mike threatened. Marionette chimed in amusement.
"And that would be troublesome how?" the Puppet challenged. "You don't want your mother's smothering, then more for me!" It was then that he could hear her voice on the line, so he fell silent and let Mike talk. It didn't take him long to lay out the whole idea.
"-But if this is a bad time, we can meet up some other time… I don't know if I want to drive all the way there. I've got a van with an arcade machine in the back…" Mike was starting to falter. "…Look, I'd love to, but Mari's in the car. He'll make it through a meal, but we might get distracted at the house. I don't want him spending hours in the van." He hoped that Marionette would be enough to unnerve his mother into just agreeing to a meal. Instead, stumbling with her words, made the worst possible offer.
"…I don't know. I'll ask him," Mike murmured as he drew the cellphone away. There was no point in asking Marionette, because he already knew his answer. Instead, he just gave a slow exhale and rubbed his face. "Well, this was a bad idea…" With another exhale, he lifted the phone, "Alright, Mom, fine. You win. I'm coming over now." He then ended the call before addressing the animatronic in the back. "I blame you for this. I used to be able to say no to my mother." Marionette just gave an amused chime before falling into silence.
A distraction would be nice. Neither said it, but both were thinking it. Going to Foxy's and heading home would just mean walking right back into the issue of Ennard and Afton's.
Considering how far out they were to get to Chipper's, the drive to Isabelle's house was much shorter than if they were leaving straight from home. Mike was semi-relieved to see only one car in the driveway and tried to discreetly park the gawkily obvious Foxy van. Seeing his mother after the confusion at Christmas would be peculiar, but it was necessary to make sure that his mother had kept her word and kept her knowledge to herself. With a slow exhale, he turned to look into the back.
"I'm going to go in first and make sure it's all good, then I'll come back and get you," Mike suggested.
"That shouldn't be necessary. You just enjoy your time with your mother," Marionette assured as he reached out to pat Mike's shoulder. "Where's your room?"
"…Okay, that's a pretty random question considering that you've never been inside," and effectively couldn't teleport inside the house. "Right side of the house, back over there facing the fence," Mike continued as he pointed the side of the house out. "So, if you want me to sneak you in the window after dark…" He hesitated, noticing distinctly that the hand on his shoulder was gone, and wearily looked back. The Puppet was missing. "…I walked right into that."
Pretending that he wasn't aware that Marionette was actively trying to get into the house, Mike got out of the van and approached the front door. Isabelle met him there and opened the door for him only a moment before he would've had to knock. She greeted him with an eager hug.
"Oh, welcome home! This is such a wonderful surprise!" Isabelle remarked. She then drew back and looked towards the van. "Where's… Where's Mari?"
"I'll get him in a minute. He needs to put his face on, or something like that," Mike answered as he stepped inside the house. "Sorry it was such short notice, but I needed to get the game before someone else got it for themselves. I didn't have much of a warning."
"It's fine! I'm glad to have you drop in anytime." Isabelle started to lead him into the living room. "Dinner shouldn't be too long. It's in the oven right now," she said as she hovered around the room. "Would you like a drink?" As much as he wanted to ask for coffee, he decided against the possibility of her calling him out on it. As though she would miraculously know how much he had that day.
"Just whatever soda you have in the fridge. I can get it," he offered. Though it was now that his attention turned back towards the hallway.
"It's no trouble, I have to check the roast anyway!" Isabelle dismissed as she headed into the kitchen. Mike was only patient enough to wait for a few seconds after she left, then his attention shifted back to Marionette.
"…I'll be right back, Mom," Mike called into the kitchen before heading down the hallway. He headed to his bedroom and opened the door, entirely unsurprised to find Marionette already inside. "Have any trouble finding the place?" he cynically questioned as he nudged the door closed.
"No, but I had a bit of trouble with the window. You should oil the latch," Marionette quipped in response as he turned towards the dresser, which was stacked with Mike's old stuff. While it looked like it was dusted, Isabelle hadn't gone through with moving any of Mike's things out of it. Because of this, Marionette had a perfect view of Mike's childhood. Including which was a literal picture of child Mike that looked like it was a school picture. Marionette chimed as he lifted it to look closer; it was hard not to recognize those blue eyes. "Cute kid. Any relation?"
"In a different time, in a different era… I don't know. Might've been the newspaper boy," Mike joked back as he laid down on his bed and folded his arms under his head. "So, this is it. The place I grew up."
"It's bigger than my bedroom," Marionette complimented. He then noticed a strange object that looked like a glow in the dark alien on the dresser. "I remember these! Foxy had one too! Probably has it still in his room unless he got rid of it." He squeezed its middle and it made a small zap noise. It was set aside to examine the wall and his gaze fixed on another picture. "You were in little league?"
"Tee-ball, and yeah," Mike answered from the bed. "I think I even won a game or too. Not sure if you can really win in Tee-ball, but I remember there was the plastic trophy and we all got extra ice cream." He chuckled a little, "Dad was into sports. I wasn't, but when you're a kid you'll play anything." He then fell silent again. Perhaps a little too quickly, as Marionette looked back towards him in response and must have noticed how he was becoming lost to thought.
Mike recovered when the Puppet came to the bed. He affectionately trailed his hand over Mike's bent arm and then looked over the bedside table curiously. A family photo was propped up behind trinkets, a few old toys, and a turned off alarm clock. The photo was the most important part; Mike and his mother and father. It was all very nostalgic and precious. Chiming to himself, Marionette lifted a dusty Rubik's Cube off the bedside stand and looked it over.
"What about you? Not talking Freddy's- Any sports or clubs, or anything else embarrassing to note of afterschool activities?" Mike curiously asked. As it was, all he knew about Marionette's childhood was his time at Freddy's, and it would be tragic if that was most of his childhood memories. Mike knew what it was like to have one disaster overwhelm the better memories of youth.
"Hmm… Well, let's see." Marionette crossed his arms and telekinetically moved around the cube, with the only sign that he was doing it being his flexing fingers on one of his hands. "I took piano lessons for a few years, but they were private lessons. I never had a recital or anything like that… For a few weeks I sold chocolate bars for school. I had an unfair advantage; my father let me sell them straight from the box at the diner's front counter. I didn't have to sell anything at all!"
"I vaguely remember a friend of mine signing up for that. He gave his friends free candy bars and emptied his box without any profit," Mike pointed out with an amused smirk. "Any other fun stories from school?" He was awfully tempted to ask about Marionette's father, whether Afton or Fredrick, but decided not to when everything was going so well.
"I used to be interested in the school plays, but I never tried out for them. I always went to see them though, because… Because…?" Marionette paused for a moment and the cube slightly lowered as he became distracted. It took him a moment before the memories, previously blocked off, suddenly opened to him. "Because my sister was always in them! That was it. She was very outgoing, so I'm not surprised that she would get a part. Goodness, I can't believe I forgot that!" A wave of memories of his sister on stage returned to him.
"Oh yeah? She was into performing too?" Mike inquired with a growing smile. "Must run in the family."
"It might've! To be fair, she may have just wanted the attention," Marionette quipped. "I don't remember going to school after her disappearance. I may have been homeschooled, but I can't remember doing any real work at home." He then focused on the cube. He raised his hand, his fingers dancing and tapping in the air, and the cube began to slowly twist and turn. "I spent most of my time with my toys. I know that sounds lonely, but I did form a sort of bond with them. I started collecting them rather young and never stopped."
It did sound a little lonely, but considering the circumstances that was probably a good thing compared to the alternate. Though Mike was suddenly distracted when he realized how long he had been in the bedroom. "Ma's probably going to come looking for me any minute now. I pretty much ditched her to make sure you made it inside. You want to come?"
"Oh… I don't know if that's a good idea," Marionette forewarned as he finally lowered the cube onto the bedside table. "Your mother may be wary. I could just stay back here and explore your things."
"No, come on. This is half your idea too," Mike coaxed with a confident smile. He stood from the bed and hooked an arm around him. "She's already asked about you and everything."
"Really?... Then… I suppose we can try," the animatronic agreed. He was obviously a little nervous, but was willing to risk it. After all, Isabelle agreed to have him here, so it would only be polite to show himself.
"Great." Mike opened the bedroom door for the animatronic. "And maybe after we're done here, we can look into buying some sort of keyboard for the pizzeria. Or at home; I don't mind having you play to me alone." Marionette gave a positive chirp at the idea as he passed by his companion. They then headed back to the living room.
Isabelle was sitting in the living room patiently when she looked up to see Marionette come into the room. Her reaction was a confused one; it sounded like she tried to swallow a gasp and then made a motion like she was unsure whether to stand up or stay seated. "Oh, Mari, Mike said you were in the car!" her tone voiced her unsureness. Marionette decided not to rush in, as to make her less uncomfortable.
"Mike let me in. He said that you wouldn't mind," Marionette said in a gentle tone. As they spoke, Mike began to circle the living room and close the curtains over them. The suburbs Isabelle lived in were tight and active; close to what he had encountered at Chrissy's birthday party. It was out of some sort of reflex that he fixed the situation by blocking out the world from looking in. He then looked back and watched as his mother and his companion reintroduced themselves.
It took a few moments, but Isabelle finally eased enough to become bolder. She stood from the couch and spread her arms, to offer her embrace to the Puppet. He didn't turn her down and took her into a gentle and yet secure hug. Within moments, this rather stiff embrace visibly softened, and Mike felt relieved to see the two already becoming more comfortable. Once pulling away, Marionette took Isabelle's hands and smiled down at her, eagerly chirping out how grateful he was to get a chance to visit.
Christmas had been hectic and awkward, but now they were suddenly picking up from their phone calls as though nothing had happened. As though Marionette was not an animatronic. Mike didn't know if his mother was naturally this accepting or simply became so for him, but he thanked her, because it was obvious that Marionette craved the socialization, even if he largely listened more than talk. Mike himself got the benefit of not getting bombarded by his mother's inquiries, along with the amusement from watching her reaction to the Puppet's blunt answers.
Dinner was the only time when attention returned to Mike. To his partial disappointment, it somehow circled back around the Tee-Ball. "Only a week on the team and he was already one of the best players! He was always such a fast learner," Isabelle bragged and then turned to look at her son. "I taped a few of your games. If you want to stay a bit longer, we could watch a few of them. I even have your old uniform in the basement if you want me to bring it up."
"That would be alright, but I don't want you having to carry a bunch of boxed up out of the basement on my account," Mike declined. At the moment, that almost sounded like a clever way to turn her down.
"Really? Well, thank you! It's the one labelled 'Mikey's Stuff' between the washing machine and the back wall." Instead, it had been a foolish way to agree to work. As though he didn't carry enough boxes around. Mike stood with a slow exhale and headed to the basement door.
"Be careful coming up the stairs, Mikey," Marionette called after him. His voice was dripping in amusement and Mike knew he wouldn't live this down. Almost immediately afterwards, an amused smirk started to spread across his lips as he opened the basement door.
"Sure thing, Doll. If you hear any loud thumping noises, don't bother getting up," Mike answered as he disappeared into the door and started heading down the stairs.
His nickname had the desired effect. Suddenly Marionette had become rather embarrassed. He was only relieved that he couldn't blush, even if he had a little trouble moving. Isabelle gave a chuckle of amusement and went to take another bite of her food. He noticed her stop midway and felt his music box start to tighten. He wasn't looking forward to another Fritz question if that was what this was and prepared some sort of excuse. He had already learned that the more casual he was, the more believable he was.
But instead, Isabelle's sudden look of hesitation and suspicion led to another question. "Now that we're alone…" She set down the fork and looked to him with a seriousness that he didn't expect. If he did, he wouldn't have let Mike go so easily. "There's something I have to ask you." She looked over him like Scott used to, though not as fearful. It was then that he was positively sure where this was going. "About Freddy's… About the missing children, I… I was hoping you could explain." Apparently 'Uncle Patrick' had been talking.
"What happened to those children?" Isabelle quietly asked. "What happened there?" She sent a brief glance at the basement door and he tried to think of what to say. This was a delicate situation.
The Puppet slowly slid his hands out to hers and offered them. She immediately pushed her plate aside and took them, eagerly embracing the request, and wanting the questions quelled. She was just like Mike, but the situation was much different. He squeezed her hands in his. They were warm and comforting. She had the hands of a mother.
"Sometimes… It's better not to know," Marionette quietly began. "Trust me, Isabelle. You don't want to know those things. There are already so many that must live with those memories. So many victims." He tightened his hold on her hands and pleaded, "Please believe me."
"Are you one of their victims?" Isabelle whispered as she looked him over. "…Is that why you're like this?" Her concern was real, and he took a moment to consider his answer to the question.
"No," Marionette finally answered. "Not anymore. Never again." There was a sort of finality in the tone that she must've noticed. Her gaze was full of sympathy.
They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and the basement door opening to reveal Mike carrying a small cardboard box. He looked at the scene before giving a scolding, "I leave for five minutes and you're already making a pass at my mom? I trusted you!" He finished with a cheeky smile and headed into the living room. "I'll just drop this off on the couch."
Marionette released Isabelle's hands and the conversation dropped. Maybe he gave her enough of an answer, for she didn't ask again for the rest of the night. If anything, Isabelle seemingly became more attentive of him. More than once he noticed her resting a hand on his arm or on his back as they were going through the box of Mike's things. He hadn't wanted to bring up his own situation with Freddy's, but it seemed to be in his favor in the end. Instead of fearing his connection, she became more compassionate. Possibly because the connections were a bit more obvious.
It was almost a shame to have to leave. Isabelle eagerly offered them to stay, but neither were comfortable leaving Moppet home alone yet. She had enough food, but she was still young and new to their home, so it didn't seem wise. It was back to the van once more. Mike opened the front door, offered his coat to Marionette to put on, and then distracted his mother with a hug. That way she wouldn't see Marionette suddenly teleport out into the van. She would simply assume that he hurried out and hid in the back.
Soon they were driving home and only now in the semi-silence of the van did Marionette's mind drift. Back to the dream, back to the conversation with Isabelle, and back to Freddy's once more. He had his head propped up by his arm, which was leaning against the passenger door, but turned enough to look towards Mike. He looked over the human for a few moments and smiled to himself. At least fortune has smiled upon him in one way. Life had been cruel, but it had apologized and offered a peace treaty in the form of Mike.
But that dream…
"Mike…" Marionette quietly began. "…I think I want to talk about that dream again." Mike glanced over in surprise before his eyes returned to the road. "I know it's sudden, but better late than never," the animatronic added as he lazily waved with his free arm before letting it drape back over his lap again.
"I could live by that logic," Mike agreed. His concern and curiosity were partially disguised. "Was it like those Baby dreams?... Come to think of it, those would've been Ennard dreams too." Somehow, Marionette had not realized this until right now. It wasn't a shock of any kind though, he just hadn't pieced it all together until Mike laid it out.
"I suppose they would've been, but this dream wasn't as direct. When Ennard was Baby, we were both lucid and outright. In this dream he was acting strange… Like someone in a dream would act." Marionette straightened in his seat so that he could lightly gesture with his hands. "There were spontaneously appearing Bonnies and masks under masks. He absolutely refused to eat the cake, which I believe nobody except me liked- it was strawberry, you see." Mike nodded in understanding. "All was just dreamlike… Until the memory appeared."
"How did it appear?" Mike asked thoughtfully. "Did it just suddenly turn into a memory or was there a break? Like when you switch dreams when sleeping?"
"Very sudden. I went to answer a door that I thought might have been you, and when I turned around… It was that sudden," Marionette revealed with his voice growing softer and his arms dropping into his lap. His hands started to rub each other in a sort of self-comfort. Then, just as quickly as he was slouching, he straightened once again. He remembered more of the dream and found himself focusing on something peculiar. "But… Ennard did seem to become lucid halfway through, before the door, and mentioned that 'they' had found him. I don't know who he meant."
"Could've been anyone; workers at Afton's, the other animatronics, whoever this guy is buying ARI. He never mentioned Phone Guy?" Mike inquired. He was obviously becoming more invested, as was Marionette. Both had caught on to the fact that these dreams were frequently forewarning future events. "Phone Guy's the dead giveaway here."
"He… Did not," Marionette admitted. He tapped his fingers thoughtfully. "…But he was acting a little odd. He was crawling on the ground and wearing different masks- could he had been hiding from someone? The party connection eludes me entirely, but Ennard…" He trailed off as he returned to his thoughts. Mike looked over to him, thought over what he was offered, and then continued.
"Which voice did he use?" Mike asked.
"Well, I heard his real voice at one time, but he largely used the voice of the Puppet Bonnie. At one point he switched to Funtime Freddy, but he didn't speak that much." Marionette saw something click on Mike's face and tilted his head. "What is it?"
"Have you ever heard the Puppet Bonnie talk? I thought that thing was broken beyond repair, along with everything else down in Afton's… Including Ennard," Mike quipped out the last part. "Including me too if we count the time I came out half dead." He looked to the Puppet, noticing his silence and taking it as a 'no'. "Mari?"
Marionette had never even heard a Bonnie voice similar the one of the hand-puppet, as the cartoon portrayed him with a masculine voice. Toy Bonnie's voice was lighter, but even that voice was obviously masculine to fit with the older design. The fact that Marionette spontaneously knew the hand-puppet's voice, knowing that it sounded largely feminine and high pitched, was an indication that he was gathering information from an outside source. Unless he came up with it himself, there was some relevance to real life in the dream, and that worried him.
"I think the memory was an omen that Ennard is in some form of danger. Or we are. There's no doubt that the dream could have been about us," The Puppet covered his eyes with one hand before rubbing into his mask, "I can't believe this, but I'm actually fearful for Ennard's safety."
"Considering some of what we seen, you have every right to be. Even Ennard doesn't deserve to get saddled into a Chipper's situation." Mike paused to stare ahead at the unmoving road. "…I mean, he could afford to get knocked around a little, but only as much as he knocked me around." There was a lapse into silence once more. "Don't worry about it too much. We could be reading too much into this and the whole thing is just some sort of manifestation of your own worry that things are going to go down like they did at Freddy's." Mike wasn't sure if he entirely believed his own words.
"…You do have a point. The memory was one at the old diner- of a body in a suit. Perhaps I just fabricated this dream because I am worried about Ennard. Whether I'm willing to agree with it, being that I don't particularly trust or like Ennard, he is another sentient animatronic and he could be taken advantage of…" Marionette didn't want to dwell on it any longer. Especially not on Ennard. Instead, it seemed to be the appropriate time to be honest. "…Mike, I have a confession to make."
"Yeah?" Mike questioned. He watched as Marionette reached into the pocket of Mike's jacket, which had been shirked off and was slumped in the seat. He drew something out and revealed it to the human.
"I stole your alien," Marionette bluntly stated as he revealed the toy. The look of utter befuddlement that passed Mike's face at the sudden reveal was just enough to make it worth it. "In my defense I did plan on asking you, but I forgot."
"And to think I trusted you!" Mike exclaimed. "First my mother and now my alien? Where does the madness end?!"
"I intend to steal your jacket too," Marionette added. To emphasize this, he tugged the jacket back up over his shoulders. "And I'm keeping whatever's in the pockets."
"How about a trade? You can have the sweater; it's just as purple, so it shouldn't be that much of a trade off," Mike quipped back, a slight smirk of amusement as he looked over the Puppet. "…Though I might reconsider. You've always looked pretty striking in that." Marionette gave a slight wave of dismissal and an amused chime. "How do you think Foxy would react if I suggested we suited you both in uniforms?"
"I'd love it, but I'm sure Foxy would shred through his as fast as possible. He would have it one day and it would be irreparably stained, torn, and laying around the pizzeria in tatters, waiting for someone to find it. Possibly Jeremy," Marionette explained. All the while he slipped the alien back into the jacket pocket, then pulled the jacket tighter against his own fabric.
"I'm going to assume that it wasn't just accidental wear and tear either," Mike pointed out, voice full of amusement.
"You're catching on. Such a fast learner," Marionette praised, and lulled out the last compliment just mockingly enough to remind Mike of every embarrassing thing his mother had muttered while they were back at the house. He felt his smirk start to slightly wane at the thought of all those anecdotes, the Tee-ball, the pictures of his childhood antics, and he knew that leaving wasn't the end of it. His mother's love would follow him home.
"I'm going to assume that I'm not going to live this trip down for at least a week," Mike pointed out, his voice a bit less amused.
"Again, fast learner," Marionette trilled as he looked out towards the seemingly endless highway. Perhaps it was best to take his own advice to Isabelle and just let the questions go for a moment. They still had a long drive to go, and he would rather spend that time thinking of something less dire. The memory had almost been forgotten altogether.
If they would be dwelling on anyone's childhood tonight it would be Mike's, and Marionette would love every moment of it. Mike not so much.
Mable: Whether or not it was Ennard, it's not like there's anything they can do. They're in a van far away while Ennard's… Quite possibly becoming a professional hand-puppeteer at the brightest pizzeria in Utah. It truly is a remarkable transformation, isn't it? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be posted soon!