"Hello, Michael." William spoke softly.

Mike's teeth clenched as he took a wary step back, feeling the tazor in his pocket. "What did you do to her?" He demanded in a voice less confident than what he hoped for.

"Just deactivated her for the time being... she was becoming quite troublesome," he answered, straightening as he got a better look at the boy. He crossed one arm over his chest, the other holding his chin as he studied him in thought.

Michael couldn't help but squirm a little, uncomfortable under the man's gaze.

"You've healed quite well." William finally spoke.

His son scowled. "Did you know she was going to try to kill me when you sent me to the Rentals? Or was that just an added bonus?" He scoffed.

The man tilted his head thoughtfully. "I expected some danger, but I hadn't any idea how calculating she really was. It was quite impressive."

"You saw it, then."

"I did, when I returned. It was all on the cameras," he answered.

Michael frowned, angry at how dispassionate his father seemed about the whole ordeal, angry at how calm he was like his crimes were free of consequence, angry at how little he seemed to care about how it impacted him, his own son.

"You know, I came back down here to find you," he started with a growl. "I thought all this was my fault- that if I fixed things with you, I'd finally be worth something to our family again. I thought that was possible when I found you in the pizzeria, but you're nothing like that man, now. Was that a mask, too? Were you acting then?" He snarled.

William's eyes lingered on him, a mildly surprised look on his face as he contemplated his answer.

"No." He finally gave. "I wasn't."

His answer surprised Michael, even, and he felt his expression soften a little as his father continued. "But there's no denying I've changed since then," he spoke. "It has to do with that case you're holding, actually. Why don't you open it?"

The boy perked, forgetting the box cushioned under his arm and he looked at it and back at William hesitantly before holding it upright, inserting the key back into its hole, clicking it open. Like before, soft cyan fog seeped from its cracks, the whispers as loud as ever.

He stared at it apprehensively as the man across from him tucked his arms behind his back, gazing at Michael contemplatively.

"You can hear it too, can't you?" He uttered softly. The boy looked up.

"What-?" He started.

"You can hear their voices... after all, you possess them like I do." He continued in a reverent, low tone.

Michael tensed, frowning as he took a step backward. "What are you talking about..." he questioned quietly, closing the lid a few centimeters.

William's gaze narrowed slightly, a small frown showing through his pieced-together mask. His dark eyes focused on him, studying him carefully as he spoke. "Surely you wondered how you survived the attack in the Underground. Surely you wondered how you healed so miraculously... did you not?"

The boy swallowed. "I did."

His father's eyes fixed on his. "You survived because of what's in that case. It's because the thing contained in those vials runs in your very veins, Michael."

His heart dropped. The thought of this mysterious substance flowing through his body made him sick. "I don't even know what this is. Why would it be- in- me?" He stammered. "Are you trying to tell me this stuff saved me?"

"Yes... I am." answered William slowly.

"That's impossible," Michael snarled. His father ignored him, eyes turning away as he began to speak. "It's a little concoction I made some time ago. A refined collection of life itself, bottled to use as a type of elixir, if you will," he related.

"I created it with the purpose of reviving your brother, but I lost the opportunity. I had been experimenting on myself in the meantime, however... before I was spring-locked," he explained carefully, beginning to pace in front of the door slowly with a kind of simmering excitement Michael had seen only when William was working on a particularly marvelous idea. "And as you can see, it worked well enough to keep me alive for all that time, even if only as a rotting corpse of what I was."

"So, what does that have to do with me..." Michael murmured as he watched him, not understanding why any of this mattered. "It's in your blood then, not mine. I've never used this stuff."

"Not that you know of," said William with a sly glance in his direction, halting. Cold gripped the boy's insides as he continued.

"You see, after the loss of Elizabeth and your mother, I realized I needed to be more tactful in how I protected our family. I wasn't about to lose you, too," he spoke quietly as Michael's heart began to race.

"That night after we returned from the hospital, I knew I needed to act. I did not want to see you in an ambulance again... I couldn't..." he trailed. "I gave you two dosages while you slept, in the case you were to wind up in another incident. That way, you would be safe," he spoke, white eyes turning to his, gauging his reaction.

Michael had felt the color drain from his face, mouth dropping open as he began to tremble.

"Yes, it's as present in your blood as it is in mine," the man murmured.

He was at a loss for words, cold fear gripping his core as apprehensive questions crossed his mind. "H-How did you make it?" The boy posed with a worrying waver in his voice.

William said nothing for a moment, eyes fixed on him.

"I think you know." He finally answered.

His brow furrowed with confusion before a horrible realization dawned on him and his eyes widened, heart dropping into his stomach.

"The Funtimes-" he stuttered.

"Perfect, wasn't it?" William contemplated aloud, distant to the horrified look on his son's face. "Children ready for the taking with no-one, nothing to trace. It wasn't long before I had the remnant formula."

Michael felt sick, horribly sick. He felt his stomach rolling and backed an inch into the shelf behind him, clutching it for support.

"While it's quite an ingenious invention, I can't deny that it has its... quirks," the man continued, not noticing his son's distress. "I can't help but feel I never have enough of it. I admit, Michael, I dread death when I have more, so much more I want to explore and accomplish- a lifetime isn't sufficient. As far as I can tell, this is the escape."

The boy couldn't help but feel the side-effects included more than just addiction. His father wasn't like who he'd met in the pizzeria all those weeks ago- colder, more distant somehow. Uncaring of him now, even.

Though, maybe those things were just a product of child-murder and the remnant was only abetting it.

William looked down at his hand with a small frown, flexing it. "When I returned to my workshop, there was still some left, and I'd hoped to restore my body, at least minutely- but I ran through my stores quickly. The last of it is in your hands..." he spoke, eyes turning to fix hungrily on the chest as he continued. "The case was locked. I needed your keys to open it, and you obliged. You came perfectly willing to the Underground, as I knew you would."

"And how were you so sure of that?" Michael growled lowly, a scowl pulling at his lips.

"Because... you have so many questions you so desperately want answered... and you believe I have those answers," he said knowingly with a small, sly smile. "Don't you, Michael?"

Michael froze, caught off by his words... and to his surprise, was latching on with upmost attention.

"You want to know whether or not you'll ever be a good person again. If you can be forgiven."

He almost dropped the case as he found himself listening with desperate attention for the man's answer, the questions he'd spoken swelling in him like an insane hurricane of doubt he'd never found words to describe.

"Well..." Afton said with a low, snide chuckle. "I think that depends on how cooperative you are, now." William seized Charlie's frozen frame and dragged her over the table next to him. Her eyes flashed, but she remained unable to move.

"It's time we trade," he spoke in his business voice with an expecting expression.

Michael's heart sunk. He hadn't been very hesitant to their deal upon his arrival, but now that he knew what was in the case he held, he felt much less eager to give what they'd bargained. He could only imagine what his father was going to do with it... if giving him more of this remnant that kept him from death was really such a good idea... was his forgiveness worth that?

From what he could tell, the others felt the same as his radio crackled just a little in his coat pocket. Sensing his reluctance, William frowned, raising an eyebrow.

"Come now, son... it's Charlie or the vials. Do you really want to be responsible for another person's harm?" He coaxed. The boy tensed, mouth scrunched into an uncomfortable frown at the thought.

But gears began to turn in his head.

"Hand it over, Michael." William said with finality, extending an open palm.

"Wait-" the boy stuttered suddenly. "Only if you re-activate her- I can't trust you'll do it after we trade."

He waited apprehensively, hoping his request would be taken as the man raised a brow again and hesitated, a surprised look on his face as if he hadn't expected any pushback. Without any words, he slowly moved to adjust something on Charlie's neck, and after some fiddling, electricity fizzed and her eyes flashed.

"There. She'll be in full functionality in a few minutes. Now, if you please..." he spoke with some impatience, beckoning. Michael observed Charlie carefully, and noticed her long pointed fingers beginning to twitch.

The boy stepped forward apprehensively, extending the box to William as his elbow grazed the tazor in his pocket. He leaned back as the case was relieved from his grasp, and he began to pull Charlie toward him when his father held up a hand.

"Just one moment, please..."

Michael tensed as the man withdrew the vials left in the case, examining them carefully with a small frown.

He couldn't help the shiver that ran down his back as his white eyes turned to his.

"I'm disappointed... these are poor copies. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" William snarled, dropping the fake tubes to the floor where they smashed, causing the substitute fluid to ooze gelatinously across the tile. Michael's jaw clenched as he backed a few steps, pulling Charlie with him who was beginning to twitch and shudder back into movement.

"Not really. We just wanted the time..." he conversed, hand moving closer to his pockets as he moved further away. "We didn't know if you could be trusted with it, whatever it was, and I guess we were right."

William scowled, shoulders hunching predatorily. "Where is it?" He hissed dangerously.

The boy's brow furrowed, not saying a word as his hand inched closer to his pockets to try and hide the tip of one of the real vials that had shifted into view... but it was too late.

The white eyes caught sight of them hungrily before turning to meet Michael's blue ones.

"Will I really have to take them from you, Michael?" He asked in a low voice that sounded eerily like a chiding parent scolding their child. But the boy said nothing, stance firm.

"Fine."

With hardly a moment's warning, the man had sprinted toward him, giving him little time to dodge before he was knocked to the ground. He blinked at the sudden impact before feeling a hand grasping at his pocket for the vials and instinctively, he kicked Afton's torso to force him off.

"Michael- Michael, what's wrong?!" He heard Henry call from the radio in his pocket. But he didn't have opportunity to answer.

Michael started to his feet, grabbing the tazor as the man came at him a second time.

William crashed into him, forcing him into the shelves. The boy tried to shock him, but the device was knocked from his hands, and it span away from him on the tile while electricity spat from its prongs.

A blow hit his jaw, causing his head to swing into the metal shelves, and the skin of his cheek split. Michael felt blood spill from his nose as another hit plowed into his face, and as he tried to wrestle his father back, the vials tumbled from his pockets to the floor.

Afton's wide eyes followed them, and he made before a box of parts tipped over from the shelves, bolts and wrenches crashing over the ground where they shattered the remnant's tubes.

"NO!" William cried as the fluid began to evaporate into a blue gas that filled the air.

Charlie hovered over the ground with the empty box, finally in full functionality and looking furious. Afton wrenched himself from Michael, seizing the tazor and he moved to strike her. She didn't have any time to move before the prongs hit her chest- but when they did, he was suddenly thrown back by some unknown force as the electricity met the gas from the remnant.

And when it did, something strange happened.

The electricity spread through the cloud of blue like lightning in rain-clouds when white light suddenly stretched across the room and a thousand cries spilled around them in manic echoes. A sudden tenseness filled the air that pressed Michael's chest to the point of breathlessness.

He gasped, the air taken out of him, and slumped back against the shelves as images began to flash before his eyes.

Like static, he saw blood covering the floor in small puddles, red smears and stains decorating the shelves and tile. The sight of a boy with dark, curly hair and stray parts of the Golden Bonnie costume left discarded on a table flashed in his vision.

But more present was the terribly angry, agonizing energy that filled the room, tingling his skin like static pricks.

He pulled himself to his feet, knocking into one of the tables clumsily and grasped it for support. He caught sight of William standing rigidly, expression twisted into one of shock before looking for Charlie- she was collapsed on the tile, twitching as stray strings of electricity twisted around her.

"C-Charlie- get away from him-" Michael tried to call, coughing through the fog as Afton began to move.

But she didn't appear to hear him.

She finally hovered again, but she continued to spasm, eyes bright and unfocused as quiet, high-pitched groans of pain tore from her throat. Her eyes- now a deep purple- fixed on William, and when they did, she screamed and lunged at him.

Like a wild animal, Charlie's long fingers scratched at the man's mask and chest and he screamed in pain as her hands moved to his right arm and bent it back with a sickening crack.

"Charlie!" Michael shouted in shock.

Her head whipped to look over as William clutched his broken arm, moaning in pain... but she didn't appear to recognize him. She stared a moment longer before twitching again, and with a strangled cry, she wrenched herself from Afton and flew like a wretched shadow from the room.

Michael sprinted past his father and out the door, trying to follow her.

"Charlie- Charlie, come back!" He called, running by party tables and chairs as she disappeared out the glass doors of the entrance.

He rushed outside, but in the night's pitch-black darkness, she was nowhere to be seen. He breathed hard, feeling panicked as a car came tearing into the parking lot, headlights blaring. He squinted, drawing a hand over his eyes as a familiar figure jumped from the driver's seat.

"Michael!" Henry gasped, hurrying to him. "What happened, where's-"

"She left, she flew out- but dad, he's in the back room-" the boy managed as Laura stepped from the passenger. Without a word, Henry dashed past him into the pizzeria, and the remaining two cast each other a look before running in after him.

Within seconds, they were at Parts & Service... but William was nowhere to be seen.

The door was wide open, the remnant's fog dissipating while a small, fading trail of blood led out the back entrance where it ended. Afton had made his escape.

"Crap... crap..." Michael managed between heavy breaths. Henry turned to him.

"What happened to Charlotte?" He demanded worriedly, face pale. "Where is she?"

"Dad... he got hold of the tazor and shocked her. I think with the remnant, it did something to her..." Michael answered, racking his thoughts as he caught his breath. "She went rabid on him, I'd never seen her that violent- I don't think she could tell who I was, but she ditched right as you showed up."

He watched anxiously as Henry looked away, a scared and distressed look on his face.

"I-I tried to catch her, really-" he stuttered, afraid he was angry with him before the man's crisp blue eyes turned to him, stopping him in his words.

"This isn't your fault. It's his." He spoke before asking more quietly, "Do you think she'll come back..?"

Michael thought about that, remembering Charlie's demeanor.

"Of her own accord? No..." he answered honestly in a sheepish voice. "She's not herself."

Henry nodded once with a defeated expression. But his tone only carried fierce determination as he continued. "Then, we need to go home and regroup. I think it's finally time this whole tragedy were put to rest," he decided resolutely. "He'll have no where to hide, now."

While he spoke, Laura stooped to the ground, straightening with metal in her hand.

"It's a piece of hardware... right?" She asked aloud, holding it up to the light. Henry took it from her hand gently, examining it himself and his mouth parted.

"Yes... Charlie's..." he replied. "It's a little fried, but maybe I can use it to figure out what exactly happened to her. Is there anything else?"

The girl's eyes swept the floor and tables for a moment before she shook her head. "No."

Henry nodded. "Then there's nothing left for us here. Let's go."

The three started back out of the restaurant, and as they walked, Laura took Michael's arm. "Did he do all this to you?" She asked, pointing out a long gash he hadn't noticed before as he used his shirt to dab at the drying blood on his face.

"I guess so," he answered, wiping his mouth. She scowled. "I'm gonna kill him."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Henry called over his shoulder. "Nothing else has been able to... yet."

Michael couldn't help but feel there was more to that statement than Henry was letting on.