The stage had been set: after swinging by the cheapest tools store he could find, and then proceeding to dumpster dive through their discarded products that they couldn't sell in their back alley, Michael and Helpy had to make multiple trips to-and-from the pizzeria, before they finally had everything that they needed to prepare for the muppets' raid on their property. Deciding that needed to be inconspicuous as possible— as it would be near impossible to sneak through the various rooms of the pizzeria, if there wasn't anything there to take cover behind— Michael had just enough helium left in the portable can-container he found nestled behind a dead rat in the dumpster earlier to create inflate enough balloons to decorate the dining area, to create the infamous "balloon barrel" game, and of course, to make " Mr. Can-Do", who was placed beside the rest of " Trash and the Gang" that the two of them managed to recreate with their salvage.
Bringing Mr. Hugs with him to explore the rooms he was working with— while also killing two birds with one stone by vacuuming up the dust off the ground along the way— finding the layout of the entire first floor to be an exact replica of 1993's era of "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria"; minus of course the appliances and furniture that would have made it that much easier for him to actually open up the restaurant, without needing to first acquire the means to run a business. But that was a different problem for a different day; all Michael needed in the meantime was just to get familiar with each room, so as to plan out as many potential ambushes and hiding spots as he could.
Once he was acquainted with the layout of the restaurant enough to feel more confident about defending against the dreaded muppet siege that would strike at midnight, Michael had Helpy take out Mr. Hug's bag to empty it into the dumpster they had in the back alley; making sure to test the plumbing of the boys and girls' restrooms, before using a stall to use his new set of organs to relieve himself. Washing his hands with whatever soap reside he could scrape off of the plastic nozzle at the bottom of the wall-mounted soap dispensers— all of which were cracked, and in desperate need of replacement themselves— Michael dried his hands on the sides of his slacks before helping Helpy with putting Mr. Hugs back on stage.
Now that their jury-rigged defenses and decorum were put into place, all Michael had to do was use whatever measly scraps he had left to assemble some weaponry for him and Helpy to defend their pizzeria with. Since the air horn would be counterproductive for their stealth approach, Michael handed Helpy a makeshift pair of shears that he crafted with two rusted kitchen knives, and some scrap metal he had leftover from building the tables and stage. Left with somebody's mixtape cassette, a half of a pack of cheap cigarettes, and an erotica magazine that featured anthropomorphic furries within its disturbingly sticky-pages, Michael decided that his arsenal of trash was better left as bait to be placed around various corners of the restaurant, as he couldn't think of a good way he could use those measly items to properly execute a possible fleece menace.
Having worked up a sweat, Michael had to loosen the top buttons of his purple collared-shirt; letting out an exhausted sigh, while Helpy attempted to cool him down by fanning him off with the aforementioned furry magazine. "Alright then… I reckon we've got about four hours until the clock strikes midnight. What do you say you and I go out for a quick bite to eat? I mean, the money isn't going to be any good if I end up dying here; so might as well live it up, while we've got the opportunity to spend it," Michael mused sarcastically; receiving a disapproving stare from the small robotic-bear, who didn't find the idea of the young man dying to a gang of muppets to be entertaining at all.
Quickly backtracking, Michael smiled apologetically at Helpy, as he raised his hands up to his shoulders playfully. "R-Right; not funny…! S-Sorry about that, hehe…" He said, which prompted the animatronic bear to emote a feeling of thoughtfulness, as Helpy raised his hand up to begin tapping the bottom of his rounded chin. After pretending to think about whether or not to forgive Michael for his inappropriate joke, Helpy waved his hand dismissively with a friendly look on his plastic face; as to express to Michael that all was forgiven.
Once the moment had passed, Michael scooped Helpy up into his arms before exiting through the front door of the pizzeria; leaving it unlocked behind him, as the young man couldn't find a nary of anything that resembled a set of keys within the security office. ' Damn… Wish I had a wrist watch on me… Or a car to drive; I'm getting tired of walking everywhere, ' Michael thought somewhat cynically to himself, as he began power walking through the front parking lot; the neon light from the large sign above serving as his beacon back to the pizzeria, as he tracked back toward the rows of various small businesses that he saw earlier, while searching for places to dumpster dive.
Speaking of dumpster diving, it soon became apparent to Michael that the side effects of performing such a frugal practice were beginning to make him unpleasantly noticeable to those who he and Helpy were passing by along their walk; with some turning their noses to him, while some of the more brazen individuals made comments to his face about his foul odor. Having been a rotting corpse for the better half of his life, before of course finding himself transported to such a bizarre reflection of his own world, Michael couldn't help but find the reactions of everyone around him to be amusing.
"Pfftt…What a bunch of pansies; it's not even THAT bad," Michael scoffed with a snide smirk across his lips, as he looked down at Helpy. "At least we're both presentable on the outside, mate; this isn't anything that a quick bird-bath in a public restroom wouldn't get squared away… Heh, looks like you might need a little clean up yourself, Helpy," Michael said with a fond look in his blue eyes, as he used his free hand to wipe away one of the many smudges of dirt and grease that the small animatronic had gotten on his plastic exoskeleton.
Even though Helpy knew that he and Michael would have to wash up before being able to get served by a proprietor that would allow them to step a single foot into their establishment, hearing Michael casually talking about washing themselves off in a public restroom reminded the small animatronic of their impoverished living conditions. Expressing a concerned and sympathetic look at Michael, Helpy reached down with one of his small hands to wrap his fingers around the young man's outstretched thumb; giving Michael a reassuring squeeze.
Having been around speechless animatronics for most of his existence, Michael was able to understand what Helpy was trying to convey to him, and what the small plastic bear had to say did wonders to warm the sarcastic man's cynical heart up. Tightening his lips together and giving his comrade a small nod, Michael smiled reassuringly at Helpy before closing his fingers gently around the hand that the animatronic was using to hold his thumb. "Cheers mate; this isn't anything that you and I can't handle! If anything… If anything, this is probably the most relaxed I've been in a long time," Michael admitted, which caused Helpy to arch a single plastic-brow at the young man, gesturing to him to explain his reasoning for having said such a thing.
"Look at it from my perspective, mate: I have my youth back, along with a healthy body that I've been without for far too long; now that's worth celebrating on its own, innit?" Michael said to Helpy, as the two of them entered an outlet hallway that had doors to gender-neutral restrooms lining the gray wall, while having several overpriced vending machines that were stationed across from said restrooms. "Now, I might not have all the answers to our many conundrums, but what I can say for certain is that this life is precious; so let's make the most out of this second chance while we still can! Even if that means washing up in the loo, so we could get a bite in before having to defend our janky-ass restaurant from a bunch of Saturday-morning puppets with a vendetta," Michael said half-jokingly, which elicited a silent bellow of laughters from Helpy, who the the young man set down on the white-ceramic counter top of the private restroom he stepped into.
At first, Michael felt self-conscious about undressing in front of Helpy and was about to ask the small animatronic to look away while he freshened up, but came to find that the robotic bear was already a step ahead of him by having his white-paws covering his blue eyes. Feeling glad that Helpy knew better than to just stare blankly at him while he was in the buff, Michael let out a small throaty-chuckle, before beginning to undress himself; making sure to line the tile floor with paper towels, before beginning to adjust the faucet to reach the a good-enough temperature to begin bathing himself in.
Lathering his wet body with almost all of the hand soap available in the wall-mounted dispenser beside him, Michael was half-way finished with rinsing himself off over the sink when he was suddenly interrupted by a small, yet impatient knocking at the door. "Ugh… Hello?! It's occupied!" Michael called out in an irritated tone; shaking his head, before quickly realizing that the knocking had only grown more rapid and intense. " OI! I SAID IT'S OCCUPIED, MATE; I'LL BE DONE IN A BIT-"
"-HEY BUTTFACE, HURRY UP; YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE FOR LIKE, TWENTY MINUTES!" A childish-male voice screamed back at Michael, causing both the young man and Helpy to recoil upon hearing the response from the otherside of the door.
Registering the vulgarity he had just heard come out of what was clearly a child's voice, Michael was scrambling for something to say when all of a sudden he heard a slightly-robotic, and comforting male's voice coming from the otherside of the door as well. "Gregory, language! I understand you have to use the restroom, but that doesn't give you permission to be rude to strangers. You should apologize to whoever's in there, so they don't think we're unfriendly."
Hearing who he could only assume to be "Gregory" groaning begrudgingly to whoever had just lectured him for his behavior, Michael found himself leaning his ear closely against the metal door; eavesdropping on the conversation that was taking place in the hallway outside, all while still letting the faucet run. "But Fredyyyy! This jerk's taking too long, and all the other restrooms are closed for the night! It's not fairrrr, ughh!" Gregory whined like any frustrated child would in his position; unknowingly having just alerted Michael of the name of who the slightly robotic-voice belonged to.
"No fuckin' way…?!" Michael muttered underneath his breath with his eyes wide-open, as a sudden thought entered his head. ' There's not a snowball's chance in hell that's Freddy-Fucking-Fazbear… Ain't no fuckin' way! ' Michael's mind screamed internally, as he clumsily regained his bearings before stumbling forward to use his trembling hand to wrap his hand around the metal handle, activating its automatic unlock feature, before cautiously cracking the metal door.
Feeling the steam from the restroom flooding out past his still-wet skin, Michael braced himself as he slowly poked his head out past the barely-opened door; not sure what he was going to find, other than possibly a child who was being chaperoned by a regular smoe-joe named Freddy. What Michael found instead of that was… Nothing; there wasn't anyone standing across from his occupied restroom, like how he had thought. Confused and beginning to question his already questionable sanity, Michael took it upon himself to lean his body past the end of the even more opened door; looking both ways down the hallway, before being met with a scruffy-looking janitor with a white-handle bar mustache, and a unbutton uniform shirt on.
"Oi, sir! Did you see who it was that was knocking about outside my loo?" Michael asked with a bit of urgency behind his best attempt at being friendly, as the disinterested older man with a maroon worker's hat stared back at him with a bored-expression on his face; just silently looking back at the naked young man, and taking his time thinking about other things before finally responding to Michael's inquiry.
"Scruffy done seen that little angry boy and his tall, macho-man bear dad looking distraught, so Scruffy did the right thing by opening the stall next to yours," the older janitor said in a gruff and monotone voice, all while leaning his back up against the gray wall; right beside his futuristic yellow-bucket and regular cheap-mop were at. "Scuffy needs to lock up within the next five minutes, so Scruffy would greatly appreciate it if you were to finish up choking the ol' chicken in there."
Narrowing his eyelids with a perplexed expression on his face, Michael quietly muttered back the words "choking the ol' chicken", before going wide-eyed with embarrassment. "WHAT?! N-NO! I'm not wanking off in here, mate; I just needed to freshen up a bit was all!" Michael protested with his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink, as the indifferent janitor shrugged his shoulders before reaching into the back of his dark-turquoise cargo-pants.
"I suppose it don't make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things; eternity continues on, while we all are burden to forever carry the pain of our past lives," Scruffy said poetically in his same gruff-manner of speaking; making Michael quickly forget about his embarrassment, as he watched the janitor pull out a pornographic magazine that featured older women on the front cover. "Mmhmm; eeyup," Scruffy muttered, as he switched his focus over from Michael, to the opened porno-mag that he had raised up shamelessly to his chest.
"Wait… Wait, wait, wait; w-what the hell does any of that even mean? What you just said right now, mate?" Michael asked with a serious look in his eye; one that was met with silence by the old janitor, who shut the young man out in favor of turning over to the next page of his "Extra-Long Honkers". And after repetitive attempts to get the man's attention, Michael decided to focus back on finishing the rest of his bird-bath and drying up.
By the time that all was said and done, Michael was rushing out of the bathroom stall while still in the midst of dressing himself back up with the stained clothes he had on while dumpster-diving. Almost forgetting to grab Helpy on the way out, Michael nearly slipped on all the wet-paper towels that were still matted on the tile floor, as he stepped back into the restroom before leaping out with Helpy tucked underneath his armpit; the young man holding the plastic bear in the same way a cyclist would carry their helmet, as he made his way to the next stall over to begin knocking frantically on the surface of the metal door.
"Oi! H-Hey, hey! F-FREDDY?! Freddy, is that yo-"
"-You done just missed them, young man; by approximately two-minutes, and twelve seconds by Scruffy's best guess," the janitor interjected, all while still paying more attention to the GILFS within the pages of his magazine, than the urgency that Michael had about him.
"Shit…!" Michael cursed underneath his breath, before storming down the hallway to open up the glass-door that led back to the darkened streets of the market; poking his head outside to search frantically for any sign of an possible animatronic wandering amongst the crowds of pedestrians that were flooding the sidewalk in droves. " Goddamnit… Hey, uh?! D-Did you see where they ran off to?!" Michael called out with an anxious tone in his voice, as he closed the door shut before walking back inside toward where the janitor was still leaning up against the gray wall, right next to the red " Moon-Cola" machine that was casting its dim light over the silhouette of the older man.
"Omnipresence is somethin' that Scruffy ain't never been too good at. I was standing here the entire time, young man; ain't no way for Scruffy to know where the went off to, once they departed past that there door to the outside," Scruffy replied, while seemingly completely patient and unbothered with the fact that Michael had so many questions for him. "What it's worth, kid, Scruffy reckons that if finding those two means that much to you, then you oughta try your luck down at "Cafe Bearista". That's where most of the bears within " Central Hub" go to get their late-night caffeine fix at; it might be worth checkin' out."
Raising an eyebrow at the name of the two locations that Scruffy had just informed him of, Michael repeated those words silently underneath his breath, all while mentally weighing out his options. ' I should probably know what time it is really, before making any sort of rash decision, ' Michael figured to himself, before asking Scruffy "Oi, what's the time mate?"
Doing what Michael thought to be impossible at that point, the old janitor tucked his porno-mag underneath the waistband of his cargo pants, freeing his hands up to allow himself to pull back one sleeve, so as to check the time on his wrist-watch. "Mmhmm…It's nine thirty-five; Scruffy was supposed to have this place locked up five minutes ago; guess tomorrow morning would be a good time for Scruffy to see whether or not eternity's got an unemployment office open on a Sunday," the janitor said nonchalantly; immediately accepting the fact that he was more than likely going to get fired, which Michael would have felt more empathetic too, had not he not been on such a time-crunch.
"My condolences, mate; I've been fired for bullshit reasons too before, so I know your pain. But uh… I'mma need directions to that "Cafe Bearista" place you just mentioned," Michael segued with an apologetic smile crossing his nervous face, clearly hoping that he could squeeze a little more information out of the soon-to-be unemployed janitor.
That's when Scruffy looked Michael in the eye with his eyelids narrowed slightly; staring what felt like daggers at the anxious young man, before beginning to move toward the trash can that he had not too far from his mop bucket. "Nope, ain't no way I'm telling you how to get there… Not smellin' the way you do, that is," Scruffy said in his gruff voice, before catching Michael's interest as he spun the plastic trash-bin around to reveal a yellow sleeve that draped over the rim of the waste-receptacle.
Standing still with Helpy still held underneath his arm, Michael watched as the janitor retrieved a can of fabric-deodorizer before making his way over to douse his garbage-smelling clothes in liquid cleanser. Through the power of Febreeze, Michael's entire outfit had been cleaned beyond what any sort of spray should be capable of performing; with every stain removed from his purple shirt and black slacks, while smelling as though it all came fresh-out of the dryer. "Scruffy, you magnificent BASTARD! How the bloody hell did you do THAT witchcraft?!"
Twirling the bottle of Febreeze as though he was a gunslinger amidst the Wild West era of the United States, the old janitor blew the imaginary smoke away from the plastic nozzle of his cleaning spray, before holstering it on his side. "From "ew", to " ahh"; Scruffy don't just mask, Scruffy cleans away odors."
It was a rather bizarre interaction that Michael had— perhaps even ranking amongst the strangest he'd ever had with another person— but it was one that was filled with warmth, and hospitality; an act of kindness that Michael hadn't had shown to him for what felt like decades. Once the janitor had finished writing down directions to where "Cafe Bearista" was located— which thankfully was less than a few blocks away from where the bathrooms were at— Michael thanked Scruffy for his time and for going out of his way to assist him in his endeavors; the usually reserved and somewhat cynical young man even going as far as to tell the janitor to skip the unemployment office, and for him to go swing by Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria instead, to see about working for him.
After all, after what Michael and Helpy had planned for the muppets later on that night, the soon-to-be opened pizzeria was going to need someone whose speciality it was to remove spilled chunks of cotton off of the floorboards, and somebody who knew how to dispose of a fleece-made body without the authorities getting involved.