Hey, guys. Sorry for the delay in uploads, finals are finally over, so I had some time to squeeze this in before classes start back up again :P

I apologize also for how slow things have been the last few months. I've been working through the worst writer's block I've experienced in some time and have been trying to find ways to stay motivated and authentic in my work- I think it's a greater disservice to post something mediocre and lifeless, even if it's done more frequently.

I guess all I'm trying to say is thank you for your patience, and please bear with me while I try to find the emotional and mental capacities necessary to give you good content. Chapters are on the way, even if it takes a while to get there ;)

Thanks,

spideyfreakradio

Michael winced, hand clenching at the sting in his arm. Despite his high pain tolerance, he couldn't help pulling a face as Laura dabbed disinfectant over its open wound, which was much deeper than he'd originally thought.

"Stop squirming, I can't clean this properly when you're moving so much-" she chided, eyes scrunched as she chased his arm, which was withdrawing itself back to Mike's chest.

"No, it's fine-" he protested, gritting his teeth. "Leave it be."

Laura looked skeptical.

"Michael..." she soothed. "C'mon, now."

The boy huffed, refusing to look at her and the green puppy-eyes he knew would be looking right back. He could already feel his face reddening at her tone- which was maddeningly persuasive- but begrudgingly dropped his arm back to the surface of the kitchen table with a tight sigh.

"Thank you." She said with a smile in her voice.

He could feel his irritation dissipating, jaw clenching as the cloth swept another time over his skin. He hissed at its final touch before feeling gauze press over the gash.

"Sorry... I know it hurts," Laura spoke in a much more apologetic tone. "But its better than a nasty infection."

"I'm sure you see a lot of those," Michael said tightly as she began to wind bandages around his arm. She shrugged. "Sometimes. We don't usually get that stuff at the ER... but bad infections are really gross. You don't want it, trust me."

"I'll take your word for it," the boy spoke, examining his newly-bandaged arm as Laura stood and began back to the stove where hot water was boiling. "What are you going to do about school? Doesn't your next semester start soon?" Michael asked with some ease, feeling better now that the wound wasn't left open.

She shrugged, tensely, he noticed, as she returned with two mugs of hot water and tea-bags.

"I might just take a break. Dad won't like it, but you guys need all the help you can get down here with... whatever it is we're going to do, now," she answered quietly.

Michael's eyes flicked over to the dark hallway stretched a room over from them. Henry had disappeared into the office nearly an hour ago to 'make some calls,' he said. They could only wonder what he meant by that, but whatever it was, it appeared important.

"You shouldn't miss school because of this. Your program is competitive as it is," he countered seriously. "You'll get behind."

She shrugged again.

"I'm in medicine because I want to help people. Ditching this kind of misses the point, dontcha think?" She said, trying to offer an uplifting, wavering smile.

But Michael's brow furrowed with concern, and it fell a little.

She sighed, looking down at her mug tiredly as she stirred its contents. "I just don't like the idea of leaving you here again. I'll feel better if I'm here and helping," she confessed. At that, the boy's shoulders slumped, a small frown on his face, feeling bad that she was this worried about him.

"We'd be okay," he tried to assure, and her bright eyes flicked up to his.

"Like you were okay when Baby used the scooper on you?" She countered quietly. At the look on his face, she sighed, shaking her head as she put a hand over her eyes. "Sorry. I just want to stay, so that I... so that I know, if..."

Michael's mouth twisted into a small, sympathetic frown. He gingerly extended his hand and placed it over hers comfortingly.

"Yeah... but you're not obligated to anything here," he said, matching her tone. "It's your call. Don't forget that."

At that, she looked up at him and managed a tiny smile, eyes looking rather tired. He returned it before she moved to take another sip of her tea, her hand turning up to hold his. Strangely, he felt his face redden slightly and was furthermore surprised to see that she looked the same as she gazed across the table at the open windows where summer breezes were tickling the curtains.

Despite being friends for so long, Michael couldn't help but feel things were different than what they used to be... on both sides.

But he didn't have long to dwell on that thought as Henry came out of the office with an especially determined look on his face.

"No dilly-dallying, we've got work to do," he chided, spreading a series of paper on the table.

"Hey, it's not like we were killing time or anything out here-" Michael defended hotly, but the man didn't appear to hear him as he began arranging the paper for them to see.

"Now," said Henry clearly. "It's clear that this is more dire than any of us anticipated, and since there's more than a few haunted animatronics running amok, our time to round them up is drawing short. Given that we know what we know now..." he consulted one of the many papers, which contained hastily written notes. "The most efficient- and frankly, safest way to do this is to lure them to one location and free them there." He coughed, adding with disdain. "Or dispose of them, depending on which one you're talking about."

Their eyes followed his hand as it moved to point at another one of the papers, this one printed and rather official-looking.

"To avoid suspicion, I think we should employ a Fazbear property," Henry elaborated. "It wouldn't draw unwanted attention; animatronics are all over these restaurants anyways, a few more dilapidated ones wouldn't stick out too badly."

"Lure them? With what?" Laura questioned, brow raised.

The man smiled knowingly, drawing a very familiar item from his pocket. Michael recognized it immediately as he held it out for them to see, feeling his mouth stretch into a tight frown as something in his stomach sunk.

"With a rather efficacious invention of William's," he answered.

"The illusion discs-?" Michael asked with some discomfort, remembering too easily what he himself once used them for.

The man nodded. "Exactly."

The look on the boy's face must have been obvious, as Henry hurriedly continued. "Fortunately, they're as practical as they are dubious," he spoke. "I don't exactly like the idea of using something my old friend utilized for, well... you know. But they're perfect for what we need to do. They're easy to program-" Michael winced "-and can reach far distances if adjusted properly enough. And they're singularly useful for attracting all of those animatronics, even though their makes are different."

Henry cast the boy a wary look. "In other words, they're perfect for the job."

Michael nodded, averting his eyes. "I understand."

Awkward silence began easing between them, and Laura cleared her throat, puncturing it. "That's well and good, but won't managers or workers find it odd if animatronics are turning up at their establishments and random customers are stuffing them in broom closets or something?" She asked obviously.

Coming back to his senses, Henry straightened, voice once again resolute and determined.

"Right. About that-"

He lifted the paper he'd gestured to only minutes ago, revealing a series of documents settled beneath it.

"We're going to open a location. It'll give us the control we need to keep the animatronics under watch without drawing suspicion from corporate or customers," he answered. "Thankfully I still have some sway over the company; I was able to persuade the franchisors to push an application through for us. It'll be done in a week instead of a few months, like it'd otherwise be."

"So- we'll be running a restaurant, basically?" Asked Laura skeptically, as though she couldn't believe an idea so ostentatious. The man nodded.

"In essence. The more real we can make this, the more easily we can lure them all. If they catch any whiff that it's us sneaking about someone else's location, well... it'll be game over."

"I don't understand..." said Michael, finally speaking. "They'll figure out it's us either way, won't they? If we're all there?"

Henry looked a little uncomfortable, but altogether undeterred.

"Well, that's the thing, Michael. I don't think we all should be there at all. In fact, I think most of us should make ourselves scarce or, when necessary, disguised," he elaborated quietly.

The boy raised a brow, feeling suddenly wary about what that meant, exactly, and at the look on his face, Henry continued.

"You said yourself that Elizabeth mistook you for your father. It's undeniable that you bear a convincing resemblance," Henry began gently as discomfort weighed more heavily on Michael. "From Charlie's few reports, it's obvious that Baby is looking for him, and the others probably are too. If you were able to pose as him, at least under-the-table, well... that might guarantee your safety and do something to further entice them."

The boy couldn't help feeling more and more unsettled. Pose as... his father? A murderous, manipulative sadist?

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Michael voiced quietly. "And what about my dad anyway? Won't it be a dead giveaway for me to pretend to be him? He'll know it's a trap."

At that, a small, grim smile pulled at Henry's mouth. "Well, that's the thing. He will know it's you... but that's what will tempt him," he answered lowly. His companions exchanged confused looks, and he continued. "William has an unsatiable curiosity that often gets the better of him. He'll know this isn't what it appears to be, and he'll come just because of that. He'll come to investigate because it's intriguing."

Laura huffed. "Well, that's a bit stupid of him, especially after last night," she quipped.

"I don't disagree," Henry remarked. "But it's what tripped him into being springlocked," he attested patiently. "There's little reason in my mind that he won't make the same mistake again; especially when he presumes to be a step ahead of everyone else."

His sharp blue eyes cast over to Michael, who had been staring at the documents laying on the flowery tablecloth, quiet.

"But... it is, of course, your decision," he said softly, addressing the boy, who wasn't meeting his gaze. "I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do."

Michael remained silent, mulling over this new mass of information and proposals. No, he didn't like the thought of impersonating his father, and he didn't particularly like the idea of placing himself on the summoning grounds for murderous animatronics, either. But then again...

Their alternatives were slim to none. And what right did he have to say no to this plan?

Did Evan ever get to say no to what was done to him?

Did Elizabeth? Or Clara? Or the potentially dozens dead at the hands of William Afton?

As far as he was concerned, the identifiable source of all this tragedy was the death of his brother. Another thoughtless tragedy. Another merciless murder.

His brother. His fault.

...How could he say no?

Finally, after what felt like a long silence, Michael nodded, eyes fixed on Henry's newly written notes on the table. "I'll do it," he said in a deadened, but resolute voice. Henry's eyes widened a little, as if he hadn't expected such an easy agreement, but seemed satisfied all the same as his expression fell back into that determined one.

"Excellent, then. We'll have to get started right away," he said, hurriedly scribbling a note onto one of the many sheets of paper.

"Wait... but what about Charlie?" asked Laura. "Will the illusion discs work on her? If Michael is right, and she's still all haywire, then..."

"Ah," said Henry dismally. "Right. Well, I examined that hardware you found of hers, and I'm a little doubtful that the discs would work in the capacity we need them to. But I'm making other arrangements for that..." he trailed. His tone held some finality as though that was all he was going to say on the matter, and taking the hint, she didn't inquire any further.

After a few moments, the man cleared his throat.

"So then, there's really just one last thing," he said in a wary voice. Michael finally looked up from the table.

"As far as I know, Charlie is the only person who knows how to free spirits from the hosts they haunt. And in the state she's in... I don't think she'll be of sound mind to do that," he spoke quietly.

A sinking feeling weighed inside Michael, and from the expressions on his companion's faces, they felt the same.

"Of course, I could try to capture her first and... do my best to reverse the effects done by the remnant, but... there's no guarantee... no telling how long it might take... if it's even possible..." Henry began to ramble, looking quite troubled as he wrung his hands nervously. Laura's eye caught Michael's, looking quite worried herself, but more for the man between them, he knew.

"W-We could- we could try to find some information, there might be a way to do it without her," Laura tried to assure gently.

Henry blinked, starting out of his daze somewhat. "R-Right- of course, m' dear, right you are..." he said, appearing not to have heard her very well as he continued wringing his hands, looking down at the papers on the table. "I'll just... start filling these out, then," he said absentmindedly, sitting down as he pulled the franchisee documents toward him, a heavy pen in his hand.

The girl frowned, watching him working. "Any ideas..?" She whispered to Michael, expression furrowed in concern.

"No, I... I guess I have that paranormal book upstairs, but it's pretty useless," he answered dismally, racking his brain for anything that might be of use, but nothing came to mind. "But I don't think there's anything..."

As his words trailed, suddenly, something fleeting, something faint flickered in his head like a trying match- perhaps... they would know... and they might respond to him, given...

Suddenly, Michael leapt to his feet, nearly knocking over his forgotten mug of tea as he threw on his jacket. Laura jumped at his unexpected movement, a very surprised look on her face while Henry merely looked over with a raised brow. "W-What-?" She inquired, confused as he retrieved his keys from the table. "What is it, did you think of something? Do you what we're supposed to do-?" She rushed out as Michael hurried to the front door.

"No, but I think I know who might!" He shouted back as he hurried down the porch and jumped into the car on the driveway, leaving her standing in the doorway looking very confused.

Without a second thought, he tore out of the neighborhood, the late evening stars still twinkling merrily from the sky.

He started down the dark roads that were so familiar to him now, pressing the speed limit almost dangerously and feeling especially grateful that there was little traffic so early in the morning as he sped down a long highway.

Arriving in much sooner time than he usually did, he passed Richfield City's concrete greeting sign, which looked as obsolete as ever, cracks and chunks of missing stone littered over it and plenty of weeds to occupy its feet. Michael gave it little thought as he watched carefully for street signs, recalling an address he'd memorized so long ago...

Finally, after making another turn, he saw it.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria lay dormant, like an open wound left to rot. Many windows were shattered, one door hung on its hinges and graffiti decorated its graying walls. Michael pulled into the driveway past a welcome sign that might have glowed once, before its bulbs were smashed, and hurried into the first stall.

He'd barely stopped the car before he leapt out, sparing only a single thought to lock it before he approached the entrance.

Glass shards crunched beneath his sneakers as he stepped inside, suddenly feeling much more wary as the eerie silence within seemed to whisper at him. He stole a glance behind him, making sure no one else was in the deserted lot before continuing.

Everything in the abandoned building seemed to scream 'death.' As he moved slowly forward, Michael's eyes caught sight of knocked-over party chairs and tables, holes in the wooden stage where animatronics had once performed, deflated balloons and weather-worn plushies littering a dusty floor. Posters with their edges peeling still adorned the patterned walls, the once-bright characters on them now thoroughly faded, some with crude images scribbled over them.

As Michael walked through, approaching one of the two branching hallways, he couldn't help but wonder how, and where it all must have happened... a sickening feeling filled him.

He flicked on the flashlight from his pocket, whose beam swept a checkered floor.

There.

He proceeded to the office at the very end of the hall, whose windows were musty and nearly impossible to see through, now and crept through the doorway.

Cobwebs stretched over corners and the objects left littered on the desk, on one a spider still sat, finishing the remains of its dinner. Michael ignored it, gingerly patting down the felt chair in the center of the room before sitting down.

He'd been so confident in coming, but now that he was here, he realized he was quite at a loss with how to proceed.

"Um..." he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "I-If you're here... I'd like to talk to you..."

Nothing but silence answered him, and he felt his hope dissipating. Maybe this was a waste of time...

He waited another minute longer, and sighed, understanding his excursion was probably all-for-naught as he got to his feet. He was about to proceed to the door, when suddenly, it slammed shut with a loud crash. The one behind him slid closed as well, and he whirled around, eyes wide and heart beating erratically, looking for who or what must have triggered it and saw nothing.

He hurriedly pressed the 'DOOR' button on the wall beside him, but it did nothing. To his dismay, the other remained just as unresponsive.

Now feeling quite panicked, Michael began looking around for some tool or emergency exit, but instead only saw the small TVs on the desk that had flickered to life, its light scaring the spiders on the webs stretched over them.

He squinted, realizing each displayed camera footage from around the pizzeria. The entrance was nowhere to be seen, but the moonlight that had spilled through its glass doors was frighteningly absent. In fact, the only light visible now was from the few hallway lamps that were flickering on and off.

In between the spasms of light, Michael saw with widened eyes, four animatronics steadily approaching the office, eyes pitch black but for a single white speck in each.

His hands began to shake as a brown bear wearing a bowler hat appeared in the left window, white eyes peering deeply into his own as he backed against the wall. Both doors creaked open, easing back slowly as though on a rickety track, revealing only inky-black darkness, now.

Finally, a whispery voice broke the silence resting between them as a music box began to faintly chime somewhere from the hallway.

"Afton..."