Gregory held his breath, not wanting to make a sound, hiding behind one of the trash cans in the arcade.
"Alright, c'mon, I know you're in here," Vanessa, Michael's replacement for the night, shone her light around the room, trying to spot him.
If he was smart, then the boy would have simply stayed in his hiding spot in the crawl space above the building. It was so out of the way that it was practically impossible for anyone other than a child and rodents to access. Unfortunately, he had grown a bit hungry, and decided to pay the kitchen a visit for a late-night snack. Bad idea in retrospect.
"Vanessa," it was Freddy's voice, "Have you found anything?"
"No, but I swear I saw something move here."
"If you wish, I can continue the search here while you check the rest of the building. I will sound an alarm should I need assistance."
"I guess I could use a change of pace, but be careful."
There was a moment of silence.
"Gregory, are you there? We are alone now."
The boy poked his head out from behind the trash. Freddy appeared to be the only one there.
"I really don't want another ride in the stomach hatch."
"I am not fond of it either, but if you wish to sneak back to your hiding spot, then it may be our only choice."
"What's the deal with the new security guard anyway? I don't like her."
"I do not recall you being particularly fond of Michael either."
"Mr. Corpse-man was pretty scary, sure, but I was kinda getting used to the idea of having him around. This lady though, I just get a weird vibe from her."
"I shall have to tell Michael of you're praise," Freddy said jokingly.
"Don't you dare! Anyway, what happened to him?"
"He had some personal business to take care of. I am certain he will be back tomorrow night."
"He better."
"Do not worry. I am certain he will return to us refreshed and stress free."
/
Michael was uncertain as to whether or not he should have been terrified, or just plain bewildered. He was back on the couch now, not having touched the freshly refilled glass of water on the coffee table, with an animatronic puppet sitting beside him. Henry was off to the side, sitting down as well, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
"Uncle Henry, I think we need to have a talk about… this," he gestured towards the puppet.
"Look, I know you're going to warn me about the danger, but here me out first."
"The danger? The danger?! I don't mean to overstep, but these things are capable of killing just as much as my father is! To have one in your house is practically suicide!"
"This one's different! Can't you see Michael? My child is in there."
"Charlie's soul might be trapped in this thing, but that is very different from having her right here. Even if it was the same, being stuck inside one of these things is a hell I wouldn't wish on anyone."
"You don't know that, none of us can really know unless we've been in their shoes."
"Uncle Henry, please, I've spent time around these things. They don't think twice about stuffing your body in a spare suit and leaving you to rot."
"For heaven's sake Michael, would you listen to yourself? If that were true then why hasn't it happened yet?"
Michael glanced back to the puppet. It stared down at him with vacant eyes, tilting its head ever so slightly, examining him. A shiver ran down his spine. He was not used to being so closed to the animatronics, well, the older models at the very least. While he might have cozied up to the new ones, they were different beasts altogether when compared to the originals. It was like apples and oranges.
"Ok, I'll grant you that it's docile for the time being-"
"She."
"Fine. I'll grant you that she's docile for the time being, but there's no telling what she might do in the future. It would be best to disassemble her, or at least lock her up."
Henry shook his head, "Michael, please try and see this from my perspective. I already lost my daughter once, and now she has returned to me. I can't go leaving her a second time."
"But-"
"Yes, I know, let's not go through all the talk of whether it's the same or not, we've already been through all of that. No matter what you think, my child is in there. I performed tests, asked her to recall specific memories, and while there are aspects to her mind which are basic, it's undeniably her in there."
"Henry… don't go doing this to yourself."
"Do what? Take a chance to redeem myself? To finally make up for my failings all those years ago?"
"What's the end goal here? You can't live out the rest of your life pretending this animatronic is your daughter!" Michael stood up, a ferocity to his voice, "I can't let you go living in some… in some delusional fantasy."
The puppet lowered its head.
Henry sighed, "I know you've been through a lot Michael, so I'll forgive you for being so close minded. All I ask is that you consider this from my perspective. How would you feel if Evan or Elizabeth came back as animatronics?"
"How would I feel?" Michael let out a laugh, "How would I feel? I don't need to imagine it old man, I've lived it! How do you think I wound up like this? My dear old sister threw me in the scooper and used me as a skin suit! And what of dear little Evan? Well, his spirit hasn't killed me yet, but the way he acts he certainly isn't friendly, I'll say that!" He collapsed back onto the couch. Henry glanced to the floor. The puppet looked from one to the other, before looking out the window.
"Michael… I'm sorry… I had no idea."
"Yeah, well, it's not exactly a common occurrence."
"Still, all I ask is that you give Charlie a chance. I know you've been through more than any mere human should have to endure, and I won't push you. Just… wait and see."
It seemed to Michael that the animatronic was making an attempt at puppy-dog eyes, though he was unsure if it was his imagination or not. Its face was still static, but the way it tilted seemed to convey something. He looked back to Henry.
"I'll give you a chance, but Charlie deserves better than this, and I expected more from you."
Henry looked down, twiddling his thumbs in a desperate bid to avoid eye-contact once again, "You're right Michael. I can't believe I'm saying this… but you're right." He stood up, resting his hands on the back of the chair, "I didn't quite realize it at first, but you've grown up quite a bit in the time since I last saw you. I wish I could have been there for you in that time; still, no point in dwelling in the past I suppose."
"Does that mean you're going to dismantle her?"
"I… I don't know," he turned to the kitchen, "I think I'm going to need a little something to eat if I'm going to be making a decision like this." The old man then disappeared into the other room, the clutter of silverware and an open fridge easy to hear.
Michael glanced back to the puppet, nervous to be left alone with the thing, and to be sitting right next to it to boot.
"Charlie, is that really you in there? I don't suppose you really recognize me. It's Michael… Evan and Elizabeth's brother."
The puppet gave a nod, almost majestic in its movement. Michael had seen the action clearly, though a part of him was unsure if it was just his imagination.
"Did… did you just nod?"
It nodded again.
"So, Charlie… that really is you in there? You're actually in control of yourself?"
She nodded two more times. Michael sat there for a moment; mouth ever so slightly agape.
"I… I can't believe it. Is there any way for us to communicate a bit more directly?"
Instead of nodding, this time, the puppet lifted one of its long spindly fingers. It raised the tip up to Michael's eye level, pausing for a moment for him to focus on it. He would have been lying if he had said that he was not fascinated by what was happening, but whatever it was, his gut instinct told him to run. Ignoring his better judgement, he decided to stay. The finger soon moved forward, tapping Michael's forehead.
/
It was dark, wherever it was. The space before Michael was simply a void, no landscape, no light, just pitch blackness as far as the eyes could see. Was this death? If so, it was a bit anti-climactic. Maybe it was just some sort of coma, after all, he was fairly certain he would have remembered any sort of killing blow. The way the puppet had placed its finger on him was so gentle, there was no way anyone could have died from that. On the other hand, he was dealing with possessed animatronics, uncharted territory relatively speaking.
"It's been a long time," a little girl's voice echoed. He whipped around to see a child standing some distance from him. It was Charlie, unmistakably, an open wound bleeding out the side of her stomach, staining her pale blue dress. The sight of a child being injured made him feel ill, but he supposed he didn't look much better. Was this what she looked like at the time of her death? If so, it was the first time he had ever properly seen his father's handywork in person, the direct aftermath that is. He had heard all about it, of course, but there was something different about actually seeing one of the victims with his own eyes. She seemed so detached, almost casual. The expression on her face was devoid of any emotion, and judging by the way she stood, it was hard to tell if she even felt the wound at her side.
"Charlie, is that you? What is this place."
"It's a space between life and death. That's what I think at least. I hope you don't mind my bringing you here."
Michael shook his head, "No, no it's fine. I'm just… having trouble processing all this. I can get back, right?"
"Absolutely, once I release you, you shall return to your body."
"Great," he gave an awkward thumbs up. In truth he felt like a total buffoon in doing so, but he was unsure how else to respond. Any semblance of basic logic would tell him that this was not real, that it was a dream of some kind. Still, the same could be said of killer animatronics and ghosts. He himself was a zombie, so given that context, some sort of purgatory-like astral plane between life and death didn't seem all that out there. There was still the matter of Charlie though. Was this really her? It had to be, but the way she acted was so odd. Then again, dying tended to do that to a person.
"Michael, I am glad you have come here. Please, you must help me keep the other's safe."
"The others? You mean the other animatronics?"
"The other children. I managed to save them, but now that I am being kept here, I have no way of keeping an eye on them."
Michael's eyes widened, "Wait a minute, Charlie… are you saying that you're the reason those souls wound up in the animatronics?"
She nodded, "I gave them new life. I saved them."
Ok, now this was new information. Any trepidation he had had about this bizarre method of communication disappeared, as all he could think about was what Charlie had done. He had never considered the actual mechanics of possession before. If anything, he had just sort of assumed that it was an automatic process, or at the very least that it was his father's fault.
"Charlie… why?"
"I do not understand."
"Why did you bring them back? You could have just left them rest, couldn't you?"
A frown spread across her face, and it was then that Michael began to realize that as much as she had changed, he was still dealing with a child.
"They were hurt. I fixed them, I brought them back, can't you see that?"
Michael shook his head, "Charlie, it's… it's not that easy. The souls… the children, they need to rest."
"No!" she pouted, "I thought you would understand, but you've become just like one of the adults!"
"Charlie, please just listen!" Michael was unsure what he was even going to say in order to convince her, but he never got the chance to try. The next thing he knew, he was sitting back on the couch in the living room. He looked around frantically, trying to get a hold of his bearings. Henry had placed a hand on his shoulder out of concern.
"Michael, are you all right? I came back in here and you seemed… out of it."
"Yeah, yeah… I'm fine," he glanced over to the puppet, which was now facing forward, sitting in a rather static position. He waved his hand in front of it's face, but there was no response. Was what he had seen real?
"Oh dear, she gets like this sometimes," Henry said, sitting down, "best to just let her recuperate for a few hours."
"Sure thing," he stood up, "I don't mean to be rude, but I think I should get going."
"I see."
"I mean, I'd love to come back, we still have a lot to catch up on."
"Of course," Henry smiled, his eyes lighting up, "let me walk you to the door."
"Before I go, did you come to a decision?"
"Hm?" he raised an eyebrow.
"You know, regarding…" Michael jutted his head in the direction of the puppet.
"Oh, I see," Henry wrung his hands, his eyes darting to the animatronic briefly, "I… I think I might give it a bit more time before committing to anything. I hope you don't think less of me."
"No! No… it's… I think I might want you to give it some more time as well," he looked to Charlie, who had yet to move.
"Really?" Henry raised an eyebrow, "You seemed so eager for me to get rid of her."
"Let's just say I may have been a bit hasty."
The two men said their awkward goodbye, befitting of two weirdos who were out of practice with social relationships, with Michael agreeing to pay him another visit the same time next week. On the drive home, Michael's mind was racing at a million miles per hour. He had known that there would be a lot to think about afterward, but this was far more than he could have ever accounted for. Charlie was actually in that thing, at least, he was pretty sure she was. There was no way he had imagined her, right? Still, the whole thing seemed so surreal, he was unsure as to how he should even process. Forget about Henry keeping the animatronic in his house, the fact that she was the one that put those souls into the animatronics, he couldn't believe it. Her still having a child's mindset, at least partially, was also a problem. He would need to find some way to reason with her, assuming she would be willing to talk. It was clear she was only trying to help, but he was fairly certain the end result was not what she had intended.
This was all getting so out of hand. At first, all he had been worried about was finding his father. The man was elusive, but it seemed feasible that he could do it. Now, he had to somehow patch things over with Charlie. If she was the one who put them there, then there was a chance she could help the souls to rest. He could only hope that it would not be as difficult as he anticipated it to be.
