As safe as it was underground, there was a certain relief in being topside once more. Now that William and his daughter were in better condition, it was time to get on the move once more, into Hurricane. William had a to-do list: find and kill Henry and Charlie (both for good), find Michael, and then the nebulous task of restoring him and his childrens' bodies. Which required restarting his research into remnant but ah, that was a bridge he'd cross when he got to it.

Tonight, his task was simply resting in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It was isolated and quiet, perfect for a pair of possessed animatronics to stay out of prying eyes. He was just slipping into the hazy thing that passed for sleep for him when he heard Elizabeth murmur, "Daddy?"

He shook himself awake, "What is it, darling?"

She had her head cocked to the side, listening. Her eyes glowed green in the dark. She asked softly, "Do you hear that?"

He raised his one intact ear and listened.

There it was. A faint melody, tinkling and soft and vaguely familiar, like from a memory he couldn't quite recall. Whatever it was, it made the deteriorated circuits in his suit activate for just a moment, trying to will him to get up and move.

It wasn't a song. It was a signal. The suit was trying to obey it but, with its aged machinery, it didn't quite have the strength to overpower him.

Elizabeth on the other hand...she was fidgeting, her eyes flicking back to him, asking for permission silently. "Daddy, I want to see what it is," she begged.

"No. Absolutely not," he said shortly.

"But Daddy," she whined, "Why not?"

"It's not natural. Something—or someone, is trying to lead us somewhere," he looked out into the darkness, "Can't be good."

Elizabeth looked away, kicking her feet back and forth as she pouted. It must have been frustrating. Circus Baby not only had more advanced signal capabilities but her suit was in general more intact than his, even if that was saying something. "I wannnnaaa," she complained.

"Okay, okay," he sat up, using some abandoned shelves to pull himself up, "I'll give it a look, alright?"

"Really?"

He nodded and pointed to himself, "Yeah, your ol' dad is too smart to be caught in a trap."

After a short pause, he added, "...but if I'm not back before tomorrow night, you aren't allowed to come look. Alright?"

"But I wanna help you…"

"Elizabeth," he raised his voice, missing how she cringed, "Am I clear, Elizabeth?"

Her faceplates shifted into an approximation of a scowl but she agreed, "I understand."

With a nod at her, he turned and left, out into the night. He cocked his head to try to figure out where the source of the signal was coming from. Somewhere in one of the alleys between the warehouse he had been in and the next one over. Equal parts curious and wary, he followed it, turning into the alley.

There, at the end of the alleyway, was the thing, a curious little machine. It was painted matte black and was about the size of an RC car. Looked like one too, if someone mounted a pyramid on it. He approached it and its melody picked up in volume before it zipped away.

"Wha—" he murmured softly before giving chase.

The machine made a sharp turn into another alley and then another after, always staying just away from him. It was leading him into a wild chase through the abandoned outskirts and now into Hurricane proper. His suspicion that it was to lead him away was correct but he kept chase. He was curious, yes, to see just who was doing this.

But a rumbling anger was just below the surface. Someone thought themselves clever enough not to just lure him but his sweet daughter! If they wanted him, then they could have him. He'd show them it was the last mistake they'd ever make.

Finally, the contraption flew out of the alleyways and him after it. It zipped across the parking lot, around the building and out of sight. He came to a stumbling stop and inspected his surroundings. Then he froze.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. That was the name that shone down at him in brilliant neon from the building. He stared and then laughter bubbled out of his chest, "Oh this is rich!" he cackled, "Another one, huh? They really had to try to bring it back?!"

The little annoyance temporarily forgotten, he went up to the building and looked inside. Predictably, it was dark inside. He could somewhat see the forms of tables, chairs, a stage and counters. It was a fully furnished pizzeria. He couldn't confirm the presence of any animatronics, as the stage's curtains were drawn but there was no way they were absent. He scoffed, "No expense spared. That'll just make it all the more satisfying to tear to the ground."

He looked where the little machine had disappeared, "And if you're going to invite me in, I might as well oblige."

William padded around the building and down the alley. It was dark back here but he could see the little machine waiting in the alley for him, still "singing", luring him in. With an animalistic growl, he stalked toward it then lunged.

It zipped out of the way and began to sing a different tune, something akin to a lullaby. William only had a moment to realize what was happening before his body locked up, sending him crashing into the alley wall and between the trash cans. He howled his fury as the suit's decayed systems shut down one by one and he went under, sliding down the wall and onto the ground.

He slipped in and out of consciousness, or what passed for it in his state. At times, he could hear voices, too indistinct for him to recognize anything they said. At one point, they sounded agitated or annoyed or distressed, he couldn't really tell. He thought at one point he was hoisted up onto something but couldn't even move to resist before he was dragged under again.

When he came to, for real this time, he found himself in a small room. As he woke himself back up, exerting control back over the suit, he realized whoever had captured him had put him in a chair at a table. With another chair on the other side, it looked like he was waiting to be interviewed. How quaint...and utterly baffling. Once he found he had full facilities once more, he gave the room a closer look.

There really wasn't much. Behind him and ahead of him were two heavy metal doors. The one in front of him was locked with a keypad but the other door didn't appear to have any means to open it from this side. To the side was a large, metal vent cover. The room was only lit by a single bulb, casting most of the edges of the room in eerie shadow.

This was bizarrely calculated. It led him to believe whoever snapped this trap shut was intending it for him, or at least a dangerous animatronic. Though why they put him in this little room, as fortified as it was, confused him.

He was hedging his bets on Henry. There wasn't really anyone left to want to trap him and this was far above the knowledge of those fools at Fazbear Entertainment.

Before he could ponder this further, the keypad droned, "Automatic locks disengaging."

It would seem he was going to get his answer sooner than expected.

Unfortunately, there was no identifying the person who walked inside. Their face was completely obscured by a large, white mascot bear head. It smiled vacantly at him. William felt mocked. The rest of their body was covered by a garish yellow-and-turquoise suit and white gloves. The only thing he could glean was that they were tall and almost concerningly thin, judging by how loose the clothes hung to their frame.

They carried a clipboard with a pen and black journal set on top. Hanging from their belt was a taser, which dashed any hopes of catching them off guard. They set the clipboard down and followed suit, sitting in the chair with a world-weary sigh. They looked at him, studying him so closely there was no denying they knew he was alive. He stubbornly played dead.

The person shook their head and, with a final sigh, pulled off the mascot head.

"MICHAEL!" he cried, forgetting all notions of pretending to be dead in favor of springing to his feet.

It was indeed his son, scarred, skeletal and corpse purple but alive. Oh so wonderfully alive.

Michael offered his father a weak smile, "Hey dad."

William leaned over the table, grabbing his face with his good hand, as if he had to verify he was real and actually there. "It is you," he murmured, mystified.

"It's me," Michael echoed.

William sank back into his chair, "I had known you were alive, I had seen you...I just needed to really see you," he paused and then waved himself off, "Ah. In any case, son, its so good to see you. Feels like the last time I saw you—really saw you..." he trailed off, the memory of the tape from all those years ago in his head.

Michael read his mind, "I don't want to think about that either."

"Your sister didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know."

Michael continued, "But ah, I wanted to bring you here because well, I have a lot of questions."

William blinked, "You brought me here? Set this all up?"

"Are you...mad?"

"No! This is really clever of you!" William praised.

Michael couldn't deny the twinge of pride he felt but he could shove it deep down, smother it until he didn't feel it anymore. He nodded, "Couldn't find you so decided to make you come to me."

"Smart. Well son, shoot."

Michael tented his fingers, pondering for a moment on where to start, what would cause as little a ruckus as possible. "Ah, first, why did you run that night at the attraction?" he began.

William actually looked away, his one good ear drooping in shame. "Michael, how could I face you, looking like this," he paused and his tone took a low, almost conspiratorial tone, "And you must know what I've done."

Michael was sent reeling. He hadn't expected his father to come right out. He had expected some shame or tact but not this...he composed himself, "Ah, yeah. I found the blueprints. Between that and what I learned in the facility I kind of...put two and two together."

"The journal should have had all of it."

"This?" Michael held up the black journal, "You wrote it in code and there was no solution from what I could find."

William's jaw moved into what he hoped was a frown, "Oh yes...I didn't plan on getting stuck in this. Never got around to actually writing it down for you...no matter!" he opened his arms in an invitation, "You have me. You want to know why I did it?"

"Of...of course, dad."

William folded his good arm in front of himself, looking almost proud. It took all of Michael's will not to throw all his facade out the window right then and lunge across the table with the taser. His father began, "I wanted to bring back your brother, y'know?"

Cassidy had told him just as much but he feigned surprise, "You did? You really thought you could?"

William nodded, "Of course, that only happened after Charlie. She was...unintended. I didn't mean to lash out at her but I was going through a lot."

"I understand."

Michael really didn't.

William's eyes lit up, "But she showed me something amazing! That a soul could possess something, specifically an animatronic! So I wondered if perhaps your brother lingered too within Fredbear? It didn't seem to be the case so I moved to something different: could you call a soul back from the brink? So I started to experiment.

It wasn't until after the first four children did I discover it," William paused dramatically, as if waiting for his son's cue.

Unseen to William, Michael was digging his nails into his knees. How could his father act so flippant, so casual about what he had done? Had he no shame at all? He answered his father's cue, "What?"

William leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper, "Remnant."

This really got Michael's attention. Cassidy never mentioned such a thing, he didn't remember seeing the term in any of the blueprints or notes as far as he could remember and if Henry knew it, he didn't say anything. "Remnant?" he echoed.

William leaned back, "Yes, remnant, my discovery. Souls can possess things, I had found this out already. But I experimented with the parts of the original possessed Fazbear band, specifically their endoskeletons. When you melted down the metal, haunted metal if you will, you got this substance. Remnant, made of souls and giver of life. You could then take it and inject it into things that weren't truly alive, like an animatronic, and make them live," he paused and thoughtfully mused, "In fact, the Scooper had an injector full of it."

Michael's eyes widened, "...it could give life to someone who should be dead."

"That's it!" William crowed, "It really did bring you back to life, it called you back from the brink! And even better, it's kept you from it! It's truly given you eternal life! It saved you! I was right!"

"It saved me," Michael echoed.

The world felt like it was closing in, the room uncomfortably stuffy and hot, even to Michael's undead body. He almost felt like he was going to be sick, even without the ability to be sick.

All those little souls...it was what had kept him alive, kept him going all these years.

Part of him felt like this had been a violation. Like he had been made an unwilling accomplice in his father's plans. He dug his fingers into his legs, trying to ground himself. He choked, "That's why I'm alive—"

"Exactly! I'm just so so glad," William reached out to clasp his son's hands.

Michael jolted back, "Well, I'm not!"

William let his arm drop, "What?"

Michael rose to his feet, shaking with poorly suppressed rage, "You think I asked to be like this? You think I wanted to be like this? Like you?"

"Michael, what is the meaning of this," William's tone was stern and solid, harkening back to Michael's childhood, when he got into trouble for things that seemed so trivial now.

But...this wasn't even remotely the same.

"It means I didn't want to live after dying! If I had to die, then I would have wanted to stay dead not...not...not like this! You want to know how long I was still awake after getting hit by the Scooper, do you know, Father?!" he didn't wait for an answer, instead yelling with as much venom he could muster, "Because it took until that thing started ripping things out of me for me to actually fucking DIE! I didn't want to come back from that!

But then I woke up, god I woke up! I had to pick up the pieces of my entire life back up again!" he slammed his hands on the table, "The only upside was I could track you down! Just so I could ask! Why did we all have to die!"

"It was for your brother!"

The room in the temperature plunged and Michael could feel Cassidy's erratic aura. But he was undeterred. He screamed, "No it wasn't! You're just sick!"

"Wouldn't you have done anything to bring your brother?!" William screamed back, practically leaning over the table.

"FUCK YOU! How dare you! I would have done anything but I wouldn't have ever killed anyone!"

"Then you wouldn't have done anything!" William began to round the table, intent to convince him.

As fast as a shot, Michael unclipped the taser, thrusting it at his father. William froze, "You wouldn't."

"I would!" Michael seethed, "Don't think I won't put so many volts in you that I might end up actually killing you once and for all!"

Still pointing the taser, he reached over, grabbed the mascot head and put it on his head. As he collected his other items, he said coldly, "This conversation is over."

Michael backed away. William warned, "You're making a mistake."

"No. For once, I'm doing the right thing," Michael opened the door, "Goodbye, Father."

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him. "MICHAEL JAMES AFTON! COME BACK HERE!" he howled, ramming the door with his good shoulder.

Michael made no move to answer or even any indication he was still there.

In the corner, the vent cover slid open with a hiss.

Meanwhile, Michael beat a hasty retreat down the hall adjoining the two buildings. He burst through the door to an awaiting Jeremy and literally dropped everything to collapse into his arms. "He's a monster, a fucking monster," Michael seethed, repeating over and over again.

"I know Michael," Jeremy murmured, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Even that felt sorely inadequate.

He let Michael spend his rage without asking for an explanation. He was too tense now, too coiled to spring. Finally, when he stilled except for the ragged shuddering of his body, Jeremy asked, "Is it something you can talk about right now?"

"Fuck, I don't know," he pulled away but didn't let go, "Not. Not right now. I want to go home."

Jeremy nodded, "Then let's go home. The place will be alright?"

"Yeah, I trust Henry's plan. Dad's gonna be trapped," he paused, lingering on a thought.

"What is it Michael? Do you wonder...who it'll be next time?"

Michael nodded, "I...I think Lizzie. If they were together, she's going to come looking," he sighed deeply, "But she's going to be easier. I hope."

Jeremy squeezed his arm, "That's tomorrow. Today, let's go home."

Michael nodded and together, they left for the night, leaving the worries of today for tomorrow.

Author's Note: Fun fact: The confrontation between Michael and William is one of the first scenes I conceptualized! If I could though, I'd go back and make Mike's feelings being as complex as they are more obvious leading up to this installation because I feel his anger comes a little outta nowhere. He's always been intended to be upset by the truth but still wanting to know why he did it and why he himself was still alive.