i know it's late, but happy 4th to my american friends!

July 16th, 1991:

Michael squinted, examining his reflection as he turned and posed in front of the mirror.

"How do I look?" He asked, adjusting his collar.

"Like a bona fide manager," Laura grinned, brushing some hair from his face. "You'll pass as your dad no problem."

Michael tilted his head at the mirror, eyes wandering over the dress shirt embroidered with the Fazbear Entertainment logo, the purple-checkered tie, and an old trench coat of Henry's he'd chosen to finish off the look. Really, the only thing that gave him away were his eyes, the right of which was still foggy and glassy, frustratingly blind. He leaned forward and glared at it, daring it to work again.

"Still can't see anything?" Laura asked quietly. Michael shook his head. "Nothing," he muttered.

"Well..." she mused. "If nothing else, you look like a total baddie."

Michael couldn't help the grin that crossed his face, eyes turning to her reflection in the mirror as he playfully winked. "Totally," he joked as she smiled back. Looking at himself, he drew a violet name-tag inscribed with the name Mike Schmidt from his pocket and pinned it just below the Fazbear Entertainment badge.

"Should we show the boss?" She asked, taking one last look at his handiwork and he nodded.

He took her hand, and the two left his room and descended to the living room where Henry sat in an armchair, reading the morning paper. His eyes turned to them as they entered and he gave a low whistle.

"How is it?" Michael questioned.

"Spitting image," he replied lowly, gaze wandering over his outfit. "Almost a little too convincing, really. But it'll do perfectly."

The boy nodded, plopping down on the couch next to Laura as he caught the front page of Henry's newspaper. "Another murder..?" He asked hesitantly, looking at the image plastered in black and white. The man nodded.

"But that's three now in just a fortnight," Laura commented worriedly. "Do you really think he's behind them?"

Henry frowned, staring at the cover. "Has to be," he murmured pensively. "It has William's handiwork written all over it. It was another Fazbear employee killed at his home and nothing but parts were stolen. Who else would it be?"

Laura sighed in agreement as he continued paging through the paper absentmindedly.

"Besides," he continued. "This one was found with a Bonnie mask on his face, like the last. It screams William. He's playing with his victims before he kills them."

Michael's brow furrowed as he listened and stared at the blocks of text, not acknowledging much of its writing. These mysterious incidents and robberies just further cemented his choice to proceed with Henry's plan. The longer they waited, the worse things were going to get, and only they could stop it.

He frowned as his eyes caught the word "strangulation" written on the thin pages, only imagining how practiced his father must be to execute these crimes so expertly.

He checked his watch, the golden frame winking at him as he read the time.

"I think we better get going," he spoke.

Henry's gaze darted to the grandfather clock by the hallway and nodded, folding the paper before tucking it under his arm. "Do you have the tapes?" He asked.

"They're in the car," Laura answered, standing.

Michael followed her as they started toward the garage, slipping off the trench coat as they walked. It was too hot to wear it outside, and besides, it was more for a disguise which he didn't need yet.

As they descended the steps from the kitchen, Michael couldn't help but recall the image of his mother lying in her own blood on the concrete floor. He halted for a moment, eyes transfixed on where she'd lain sprawled out, blonde hair stained with red, framing her head like a halo before he felt Laura's hand gently pulling his elbow.

He glanced at her, her expression full of understanding as she gripped his arm and stood close, directing him across the room, her hand creeping to his. He felt her squeeze it and he returned the gesture gratefully, trying to ignore the memory of his mother, whose cold eyes he felt following him to instill guilt for leaving her alone.

As they moved toward his car in the driveway, he glanced at the half-exposed endoskeleton sitting on the workbench on the other side of the garage, shells black and lined with scarlet.

"How's Lefty coming along?" He questioned as Henry loaded a bag into the trunk.

"Could be better," the man replied. "If I had the right parts, it'd be nearly put together by now."

Lefty was the animatronic Henry was making, intended to locate and capture Charlie, wherever she was. Michael had scarcely seen the man as focused as he was when he was working on it, and it eerily reminded him of the hours Henry and his father had spent in their home, pouring over animatronic models and performance designs.

Laura's contribution to the animatronic he was working on now, however, was his name.

Lefty, of course, because the microphone only fit in his left hand, she reasoned. The name stuck.

"Maybe you can take some spare parts from the robots at the restaurant or something," Michael offered as he and Laura climbed into the backseat while Henry stepped into the front.

"That's supposing those hunks of metal Fazbear Entertainment sent us even work," the man muttered, adjusting the mirror as he backed out to the road. "The people running it are an embarrassment to the company's legacy, if it even had one."

The two behind him exchanged glances.

No matter how much he denied it, Michael knew Henry had been proud of what he and William had created all those years ago and that in a way, he still was. Even if it was only a bloody ghost of what it was, it held the fruits of dreams he'd had.

Dreams that could only be a memory, now.

Michael craned his head as the restaurant came into view, a new sign hung over the previous one.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

"Here we go," he muttered to Laura as they pulled into the front and stepped out.

He walked to the glass doors framed beneath the sign and unlocked the entrance while Henry and Laura appeared behind him carrying the last of their supplies. They walked inside and he turned on the lights, ears perking at the sound of the generator starting in another room as a flat hum hung over the former silence.

His eyes wandered to the wooden stage cast in the middle of the room.

Despite the renovations it'd undergone, he could still vividly picture the restaurant as it had been all those years ago. Fazbear's Family Diner was not the place it once was.

It felt like cruel twist of fate that Fazbear Entertainment gifted them the same restaurant where Evan Afton perished in 1983.

Nonetheless...

Michael gazed at the dining room and remembered the boy that had cried so many times under its tables. It was cruel of fate to bring him here, maybe, but he'd been no different. Perhaps this was an opportunity to repent of his mistakes... or maybe it really did just intend to torture him.

"Michael? Are you okay?" He heard Henry ask beside him.

He blinked, pulling out of his daze. "Er- yeah, sorry," he corrected, moving to carry the box of tapes to the security office before Henry could ask anything further. He cradled it in his arms and passed multiple party rooms before meeting the office.

It was a dark space, small, with only one whirring fan perched on the ceiling. Grease crept down the metal walls like inky tendrils with children's drawings pasted below them from the previous owners.

Michael gingerly set the box on the desk, sorting through them.

Henry had recorded personal instructions to accompany the ones Fazbear Entertainment had sent them. Michael had only watched the first one, but it hadn't given him much confidence in his capability to run this restaurant, or for the other Fazbear franchisors for that matter.

He separated Henry's tapes from the company's and made sure they were in the right order before taking one last glance around the office. If this went accordingly, he wouldn't need to be here long, but it could use some shaping up regardless.

He sighed and left the office, intending to head straight back to the dining room when something else caught his attention.

He stopped in the hallway, gazing into the room where he'd met with his father only weeks prior.

He swore he saw someone there, standing in line with the door, looking back at him. A child with dark curls framing his face, wide eyes glaring.

Michael stepped closer to the room and peered around. There was nothing but spare parts and tables. There wasn't even evidence of the scuffle they'd had with Charlie. There couldn't have been anyone at all.

He began to turn back when suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder. He jumped, whirling around.

Henry raised his hands in surrender, eyes open in surprise.

"It's just me-!" He assured. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Michael blinked and glanced back at the room. "It's on me, sorry," he stuttered. "I just..."

But he couldn't find words, perplexed and a little hesitant about what he'd just seen... or thought he'd seen. Maybe he was just tired.

Henry raised an eyebrow, glancing inside to see what the boy must have been looking at to find nothing. "Are... you alright?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I just... thought I saw something," Michael muttered, dispelling the thought from his mind. But if he didn't know better, he'd say that that child looked remarkably familiar... like the one he'd hallucinated on that night after the remnant shattered and something else he couldn't quite place.

Whatever he expected Henry to say, it wasn't the words he heard leaving his mouth.

"Was it a vision?" The man asked.

Michael's eyes widened as he looked at him in confusion and surprise. While Henry acknowledged his hallucinations, he hadn't been fully convinced that the man truly believed they were anything but.

"A- A vision-?" He stuttered.

"Yes, like the ones you've been having," the man clarified.

Michael's hand crept to the back of his neck as he looked back into the Parts & Service room. "I... maybe," he murmured. "I thought I saw a kid in here."

Henry's bright eyes glanced where he was gazing. "Anyone you know?"

The boy frowned. "I think I saw him that night with my dad. Something weird happened when the remnant reacted with the tazor... I thought I was hallucinating, but..." he trailed. He sighed. "I dunno. I never got a good look at him, but he seems familiar. I just don't know how."

The man listened patiently, eyes twinkling in thought as he cast one last look inside.

"Well... if you remember when or where he's from, let me know," he spoke, putting his hands in his pockets. "It could be a lead."

Michael nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he reached inside and pulled the door shut, lingering in the hallway.

"Henry..." he started quietly. "I'm not going crazy, am I?"

The man gazed at him with contemplative concern. "I don't believe they're hallucinations, at least not purely," he answered evenly. "And as far as I can tell, the only crazy thing here is the peculiar series of events we keep finding ourselves in. Not you," he continued, offering a small, empathetic smile.

At the hesitant expression on the boy's face, Henry placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, expression softening. "And even if you somehow are, we won't leave you. I promise."

"...thanks, Henry."

The man nodded and squeezed his shoulder once as they headed back toward the dining room where Michael could hear Laura talking with someone. Confused, he peered down the hallway where finally she came into view standing opposite a tall blonde.

His brow furrowed, unsure if he was seeing correctly.

As he looked, the blonde woman's eyes turned to his as they entered the dining room, and her expression lit up. "Michael!" She exclaimed.

His mouth dropped. "Dana-?"

Before he could inquire any further, she'd crossed the room and drawn him into a rib-crushing hug. "Ergh-" he managed, unable to move- or breathe. He inhaled with relief as she finally stepped back after a few last seconds of her bear grip.

"W-What're you- what are you doing here-?" He blurted with confusion.

Henry sat down in one of the party-room chairs by Laura and cast him a knowing glance. "I figured we could get all the help we could get and called in a favor," he answered with a small smile.

He looked back at Dana, still stunned by her sudden appearance. "You came all the way here-?" He stammered. "And what about Jackson?"

"Jack's just holding the fort while I'm gone," she answered calmly with a casual wave of her hand. "He'll be fine."

Her gaze suddenly scrutinized him and he stiffened, concerned for the sudden change in demeanor. "Is it true you nearly died? Like, twice?" She demanded.

"Thrice!" Laura chipped in cheerily.

"Uhm..." Michael stammered. Despite being a good few inches taller, he couldn't help but feel she was looking down at him. "W-Well, I... yeah...?"

The woman's hands suddenly seized his shoulders, shaking him firmly. "Michael Afton!" She scolded in a voice that reminded him eerily of his mother. "You cannot go around getting yourself nearly murdered by haunted robots!"

"Well, I wasn't trying to-"

"Ah-" she chided, squeezing his shoulders as she stared him directly in the face. "No excuses, young man!"

"Young man-"

"I came down here to protect your sorry butt, and I'm gonna do my job proper!" She interrupted loudly. "So, let the professionals do their job."

She finally released his shoulders (which had begun to ache some) and gave them a pat. Michael shook his head in disbelief, looking over her shoulder at Laura who was fighting hard to keep in her laughter while Henry lounged at a table with a sly smile on his face.

"What makes you so qualified?" He taunted lightheartedly as she stepped back.

"I'm a veteran, kid. Where's the employee garb?" She asked, eyes scanning the diner. Henry continued to read the papers in his lap, not looking up as he gestured behind him. "In the box," he answered, and she crossed the room to open it.

"Ahh," she sighed, pulling a bright red shirt with the Fazbear Entertainment logo embroidered over the left pocket. "It's been so long, old friend," she purred sarcastically, retrieving a black tie and vest of the same size.

She pulled out a lanyard and a blank badge before pushing the box toward Laura. "Here's your stuff," she said, examining her own uniform.

Laura fished through the container, studying the logo sown into her shirt.

"Dang. Only you get purple, huh, boss?" She quipped, casting a jokingly wistful gaze toward Michael.

"Boss-?" He laughed. "You don't have to call me that."

She smirked. "Maybe I want to," she grinned, throwing the lanyard his way.

Before he could say anything in response to the blushful heat creeping up his neck and ears, Henry peered over his reading glasses, tapping the notebook propped on his crossed knees. "You're going to open for your first events tonight at four-thirty," he started. "So make sure the place is ready. Michael, watch those first few tapes and get some supplies ordered. This whole thing needs to look as real as possible, not just to the animatronics we're trying to round up."

"Got it," he nodded, making a mental checklist in his mind as Henry looked back at his notebook.

"Are the audio discs in the alleyway?" He questioned. Laura nodded. "Planted," she affirmed. The man checked something on the lined paper.

"Michael, it's up to you to be checking the alley. Keep anything you find isolated, even if you don't think it's one of ours," he spoke. The boy nodded again. "The tapes I gave you will guide you through what you need to do when you find them- after you do, keep them separated."

He looked back up once more over the rim of his glasses. "Dana, just keep an eye on managerial work. This will fall apart if it's too obvious we're not here to run the restaurant," he added.

She gave a tired smile. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Henry nodded and got to his feet, tipping his hat back onto his graying hair. "Then I'll see you all tonight. If you need me, call."

He cast one more look at Michael, eyes meeting his in an almost constrained, worried way. "Good luck," was all he offered before turning out through the entrance.

They watched him leave, and as his car wheeled out of the parking lot, Dana clapped her hands together and looked around with a bright expression.

"So," she grinned. "Let's get this party-trap started!"