Part III: Five Nights at Freddy's (1987)
Chapter 1: Fitzgerald
When I returned home, I spread out my stolen blueprints and poured over them while pounding down greasy pizza and flat soda.
A few times, I stopped to clear my throat and practice talking. I was thinking at close to regular speeds again, and my speech was catching up, too. However, it wasn't quite there when I got a knock on my door.
I froze for a moment, pizza dripping onto my plate, and then I dropped the slice and wiped my hands on my trousers. "Just…" I meant to shout "just a moment", but my voice cracked on the first word. Clearly, I wasn't up to shouting yet. Instead, I shoveled plans back into the boxes and tossed them in the hall closet.
The knock sounded again, more insistently. It probably wasn't a nosy neighbor. The only other people who knew where I lived were the police, my bosses at Afton Robotics, and William Afton himself. My lip curled at the thought, but I smoothed out my expression before I answered the door.
It was evening, and all the curtains were drawn, including the ones by the front door. I still needed it darker, so I turned off the lights before exposing myself. I flicked one curtain corner, just enough to glance out and see Clay Burke standing there.
I sighed but opened the door just a crack. It wouldn't go any farther unless I unfastened the door chain, which I did not do. "Good evening, Detective," I said, staying well back.
He hesitated then asked, "William? Or Michael."
"It's still just Michael, I'm afraid." I tried to sound light-hearted. I think it came across as mocking, but that was because I still sounded like William. I tried to put some life back into my words as I asked, "How can I help you tonight?"
"I wanted to ask you some questions about a fire at Circus Baby's, and at your old house."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No, it was empty as far as we can tell, but we haven't started digging yet. Mike, do you know anything about that fire?"
"I know that place was a death trap." That sounded better. More casual. "You wouldn't believe the safety violations. Or maybe you would. You've been inside, and you've met the owner."
"Michael…"
"Look, Detective, we've lost the thread here. We're trying to find my father, remember? That's what I'm going to do next. Are you going to help me or not?" I honestly didn't know what I wanted his answer to be. I could use the help, but I didn't want him to see me in my current state.
That decision was partly taken out of my hands, though, when I leaned too close to the door.
Clay hissed and jerked away. "Mike, let me take you back to the hospital. Let the doctors follow up with your… your wounds. It looks like you might have an infection or new injuries from, say, a fire?"
How much did he see? "I'm stable, Detective. I fell victim to another one of William's creations, and there was some bruising, but that's over now. Now I need to find him."
"You're not going to do anything. Leave this to the professionals. There's an officer working this off the books with me. I'm going to bring him here so you can tell us both everything you know. Then he's going to go undercover as a security guard at the newly reopened Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."
I knew the old location had been set to reopen sometime this year. I didn't know it had already happened.
I gnawed on my lower lip then stopped when it felt too zombie-like. I considered the proposition. These detectives weren't ready to hear everything yet. However, I could cover more ground if I worked with some else. Plus, they had resources I didn't.
"Bring him," I said, and then I closed the door in Clay's face.
Then I found a hooded sweatshirt and gloves to don before Clay returned with a younger man in tow. I opened up for them, and the young man clapped a hand over his nose and mouth.
"Come in." Neither moved, and I prompted, "Before someone sees you."
They hurried in after me, and we adjourned to the living room. Clay switched on my lamp, which was fortunately dim, but whatever he saw was enough to make him go white. "This… this is Officer Andrew Fitzgerald," Clay stammered. Then he turned to his officer. "Fitzgerald, this Michael Afton."
Officer Fitzgerald forced his hand down from his nose with visible effort. This man couldn't have been much older than me. Right now, he looked much younger, with his round baby face and curly black hair. He scowled at me, and that gave his face a sulky look like he was pouting, though I knew his anger wasn't directed at anything trivial.
I sat in the armchair – the only seat in there – and said, "There are a couple chairs in the dining room that you can bring in."
"We're fine standing, thanks." Both policemen stayed on the opposite side of the room, near the TV. Their hands hung loosely by their sides – by their holstered weapons.
"Fitzgerald," I repeated belatedly. Like Jeremy Fitzgerald – one of the missing children.
Andrew saw the recognition in my purple eyes and said unnecessarily, "Your father killed my brother."
"He killed my sister, too. Or, his animatronics did." They also killed me. And I killed my own brother. Not in that order, and not that I planned to say any of that.
Clay squinted his eyes in confusion at my response.
Andrew lowered his stiff shoulders and look away. He still kept his distance, but I couldn't blame him for that. "I'm borrowing my brother's name while I'm undercover," he said. Clay pursed his lips together but let it go as Andrew continued, "It doesn't matter if the other employees recognize it, but it might draw out Afton."
"Curiosity always overrode his caution," I agreed, "but you shouldn't let it destroy yours. William's not the only danger. So are the animatronics."
"I heard about your brother." There was a long pause before he added, "I'm sorry." If he blamed me, as he should, he didn't bring it up. "But I think I can stay away from those things."
I waved away his words. "If they were regular animatronics, you could avoid them as easily as you'd avoid a paper shredder. No, the danger is that they can move around on their own. They're strong and fast. Some of them are clever." Both men had been nodding, but they each pulled a face at that last word. We were venturing into the realm of the unbelievable, so I finished, "If you enter that restaurant at night, they'll come after you."
"Don't worry; I'll be in the security office all night. At least for the first night while I get my bearings. The guy that hired me said I just need to sit there and watch cameras, so I'll be able to tell if there's anything coming."
"When do you start?"
"Tonight." Andrew tried to sound confident, but he rubbed his hands together anxiously.
"Already?" I asked. "When does the shift run?"
"Midnight to 6 a.m."
"Oh, and what's today's date?"
Andrew was growing impatient with my questions, but he answered this last one. "November 7. Since I start at midnight, my first official day will be November 8."
November 7. Ennard had been inside me for months. He'd been controlling me all through my birthday. I was eighteen now, or maybe I'd be seventeen forever. That was one of those things I couldn't, or wouldn't, explain just yet. "Come back and see me tomorrow. Both of you, if you make it. Tell me what happens to you, and then I'll tell you what happened to me. Not before," I added when he opened his mouth to protest. "You won't believe me yet."
Detective Burke crossed his arms over his chest. "You were attacked by animatronics again, weren't you? When did it happen? My men stopped watching you a few months ago, since you were staying away from Circus Baby's."
"I'm not entirely sure."
Andrew tried a question. "What did you learn while you were working there?"
"William's been experimenting with human-like animatronics. There was a ballerina that looked like my mother. There were little babies – blue-eyed little dolls that spoke with a British accent."
Clay caught on. "Do you think that they represented your sister?"
"Do you even have to ask? He wants to put his family back together. I'm sure that's why he's been taking those children. Because two were taken from him."
"Have you seen any evidence of the missing children?" Andrew asked. "Do you know if they're still alive?"
"I haven't seen them," I replied carefully. "I doubt they were at that facility. Believe me, I searched everywhere, even William's secret room." It was true. I didn't see anything, despite what I knew now. William killed them for their Remnant. He'd been experimenting with that Remnant. Some of it was sustaining Ennard, and some was sustaining me. Jeremy Fitzgerald and the other children were giving me life right now.
I had to change the subject, so I reiterated, "Just remember that the animatronics can be dangerous. They attacked me. They killed Evan. They killed Elizabeth, too."
"You said that earlier," Clay said. "Wasn't it a gas leak?"
"Evan told me he saw Circus Baby kill Elizabeth. That was the one… the one you found me in. I didn't believe him until after he died, and then Uncle Henry and William both confirmed it when I confronted them. William gave that gas leak story to the press to protect his precious work. Later, he told us it was an accident with the shelves. Maybe Uncle Henry can fill in some gaps."
"No good. I'm afraid he's fallen into one of those gaps himself. He's off the grid."
"Pity. Well, that's it for now. Come back tomorrow night, and then I'll tell you what I know about William Afton's work." Once Officer Fitzgerald had seen the things for himself, he'd have to believe me.
"That's not good enough," Andrew said, lowering his voice and taking a step closer.
Clay put a hand on his shoulder. "It'll have to be. Michael, is there anything else he should watch out for in Freddy's besides William and the animatronics?"
"At least one of them can mimic voices, so don't trust what you hear unless you can see it, too, not even if you think Detective Burke or I are calling you."
"I don't even know if I trust you when I am looking at you," Andrew said.
"Fair."
"But right now, you're my best shot at finding my brother, or finding out what happened to him."
"Believe me, I understand."
"Then why won't you tell me now?" There was that childish pouting again. He didn't seem to notice or care.
Sympathy surged in me, and I sighed. "I can't give you all the details about my father… yet… but I don't want to leave you in suspense either. Officer…" I shook my head and started again. "Andrew. I don't believe your brother or any of the other missing children are still alive."
He flinched and shrugged off his superior's hand to take another step closer. But he stopped there. "Maybe that's true, but I'm going to keep looking, no matter what you monsters have to say about it."
"Fitzgerald…" Clay warned.
"What? Just look at him. He looks and smells like death. He's keeping secrets from us, and he killed his own brother."
Clay didn't try to defend me, nor did I defend myself. I only stared at Andrew, my vibrant purple eyes boring into his hazel ones. "Come back tomorrow," I repeated, and that was all I had to say.
