Michael stood in the center of the room, eying the withered animatronics. They were in their usual broken positions, as if they had never moved. He shuddered violently, his gaze fixed on Foxy's jaw where a small amount of blood smeared its teeth.
How are we not dead? he thought. He crossed the area to Foxy, wrench in hand. Why did it not kill us, only because it reached midnight? Heck, why do they even want to kill us in the first place? He hesitated, running his eyes over Foxy's battered body. There was virtually no reason for these specific animatronics to be acting out, or for the toys to, for that matter. Sure, the toy animatronics were tampered with which could explain it, but the withered ones? They supposedly weren't, and not to mention, none of them had been made to kill, like the ones at Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental. There was virtually no reason for them to act like this, especially in such a bizarre fashion.
"There's more going on to this than we think, isn't there?" Mike whispered. "There always has been." He shook his head. No, I'm just thinking nonsense. There has to be some sort of glitch in the system, a mechanical reason for this. I just have to find it. With another shiver, he moved his tool towards Foxy's torso. He stilled, upon hearing a sound echo from the direction of the dining area. A call—his name. Charlie had called for him. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, half expecting to see her enter or hear her call again. He had caught her voice faintly, as if she'd spoken after shouting for him, but now he heard nothing.
Silently, he told himself nothing was wrong, everything was just fine. The animatronics had stopped, and nothing could harm him nor Charlie. But concern and anxiety gradually clamped around his insides, and he found himself being plagued with the unignorable urge to go back to the dining area and see if something was wrong. Besides, she had called for him.
Grasping his wrench tighter, he left parts and service and marched his way down the halls to the dining room. As soon as he entered, he froze. The room was still covered in shadow, for the sun had just barely risen and the lights were turned off, though he could have sworn he and Charlie flicked them back on after their shift. A figure stood beside one of the tables, lifting what appeared to be a bar of some sort. They loomed over a lump on the floor—the shape of a person, whose head lowered as this person swung their weapon towards them. But this wasn't just any person. It was William.
Michael moved on instinct, for a sudden burst of rage and panic took over his body and movements completely. He rushed forward, nearly colliding with one of the tables as he made it to William's side and swiftly struck him in the back of the head with his wrench. The blow hit William hard, and sent him staggering to the side, his swing interrupted before it could reach the person on the floor. He swore under his breath and leaned heavily against a table as he put a hand against his head. Michael nearly yelled at him, felt the urge to attack him again, but all anger and aggression faded away when his eyes fell upon the person lying on the floor. Charlie.
"Charlotte!" He released the wrench and dropped to his knees beside her. His breaths grew faster, just barely escaping his tightening throat as he grabbed her limp body and held it close. The back of her head bled heavily, dripping onto the floor beside his leg. He completely forgot William's harsh gaze or the pain in his shoulder as he cupped her cheek. "Ch-Charlie?" he said, giving her a gentle shake. "Hey, wake up. Don't—" He broke off, soft and deep chuckles cutting through his panicked, slurred words. Sucking in his breath, Michael held Charlie's limp form tighter. There it was—that rage, the burning, pulsing anger that burned at his very core, consumed every bit of rational thought. He gritted his teeth, lifting his gaze to William who moved away from the table and swung his make-shift weapon around almost teasingly.
"Hello, Michael," he said, speaking smoothly and smugly, as he always did. "It's been a little while, hasn't it?"
Michael clenched his jaw tighter, his teeth aching terribly at how hard he ground them. He could feel himself trembling, his breaths growing heavier, but he couldn't stop them. "How dare you."
"That's all you have to say?" William inched closer. "After I nearly bash-in your precious Charlie's head? She seems to be alive, but she'll die soon enough. You of all people know all about head injuries." Michael couldn't even respond. Releasing Charlie, he leapt to his feet and lunged at William. His father just barely avoided the attack, swooping to the side and swiping with his crowbar. It hit Michael straight in his injured shoulder. A loud cry escaped him as he slammed into a table, the sharp corner jabbing into his stomach. The air knocked out of him, but he had no time to recover after the impact and the pain of his wound. William delivered a quick kick to the back of his knees, making his legs fold. Michael's impact with the floor was increased, for William kicked him right in the spine as he toppled over. He groaned in pain, trying to push himself back up. He didn't get to, William's foot bashing into his back and slamming him against the floor once again. Michael let out another strangled cry, the explosion of pain vibrating through his body—his back, his stomach, and his shoulder most of all.
"How pathetic," said William, not removing his foot from its painful placement on Mike's back. "I was looking forward to when we met again, son, but you're just as defenseless as you were last time. Would've been amusing to have you as a foe." Michael swallowed hard, his gaze moving towards Charlie who lay only a few paces away from him. With a small groan, he reached towards her. Giving a short laugh, William used his other foot to crush his hand. Again, Michael cried out. "It's honestly hilarious," William said. "I'm honored you and your pathetic friends were so dedicated in trying to find me. You weren't as secretive as you might think, you know. Certainly not as much as I was."
Michael clamped his eye shut, stiffening as William's entire weight pinned him to the floor. This wasn't how things were supposed to go; they were supposed to be catching him, he was supposed to stop his father. But just like always, William dominated him.
"You're a monster," Michael whispered, his voice strained. "You...you take away everything, e-everything. You killed those children, you broke our family, and...and you're trying to ruin my life all over again, just like you've always done. Aren't I suffering enough? Hasn't everyone you've ever affected suffered enough? Why can't it be you for once?" He began to hyperventilate, spitting out the furious words through the pain weighing down his body, "You get away with everything! Everything! And you feel nothing. You delight in what you've done to us; you deserve all the pain we've suffered and more. I am not a good man by any means, but you are worse than I'll ever be. You are the very thing I never want to become, the man that I was hoping we could find and stop, but no! We haven't! I hate you!"
William laughed, removing his foot from Michael's hand, though the other remained against his back. "This sounds like the speech of someone who's been defeated. You spent all this time trying to find me, but why? What did you even plan to do?"
Michael grew less stiff, his anger fading towards defeat.
"You're a failure, Michael. A disappointment." William finally released Michael and drew back. "Just like you've always been." He lifted the crowbar he held and fiddled with it, surprisingly nonchalantly. "Now the question is should I put you out of your misery, or leave you be? Either way, Charlie's a goner. I have been meaning to finish what I started for a while now. It's always irritated me how she lived."
Michael's fists clenched, his right hand—the one William had crushed—throbbing painfully as it did.
"Your attempts to find me were amusing, though," said William, "and your false names are quite interesting. Fritz and Susie. Cannot tell if you purposely did it or not, but ironically, they're—" He did not finish his sentence, falling completely silent. Michael opened his eye. Lifting his head from the floor, he glanced over his shoulder at William. All smugness had left his expression; he didn't even look at Michael anymore, his eyes focused on the far side of the room. To Michael's surprise, pure horror and fear clouded over his features. It was an expression he had never seen on William's face; it was the look of someone petrified.
Grunting in pain, Michael pushed himself into a seated position. Not sure what he would see, slowly he looked in the direction that his father stared. Near the entrance to the room, hidden partly in shadow, stood the old Chica and Foxy animatronics. They twitched and shuddered, gazing right back at William with their dead, mechanical eyes.
"Fritz and Susie," William repeated the names, his voice a hushed whisper.
Michael gulped, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. The animatronics stop roaming at 6 a.m., he thought, so why are they moving now? Slowly, the pieces began to click in his mind—everything he'd seen, heard, and discovered. Henry's words about the children that went missing, the stench of the old animatronics; how they behaved...William's fearful expression...the voices he heard in his head. He couldn't quite grasp what his mind was starting to figure out, but it brought another thought to him. Everything he and the others had investigated seemed to be true, seemed to be William. He was the one tampering with the toys, for whatever reason, and perhaps...he was also the reason the pizzeria was shutting down in the first place.
His brow creasing, Michael returned his attention to his father. "Someone wearing the Spring Bonnie suit frightened a child here; the kid said that a yellow rabbit tried to kill them. It was the reason this place started to shut down. That was you, wasn't it? You tried to do it again." His voice grew harder, angrier. "You tried to murder another child."
William said nothing, his eyes still fixed on the animatronics. Eerie noises echoed through the room, the sound of footfalls. Michael paid no mind to them, glaring darkly. "That's how you killed the others, isn't it? With the Spring Bonnie suit? I don't know what you came back here for, why you've been messing with the toys or why you tried to lure another child, but I won't let you kill anymore. We will stop you." William did not respond. Michael shot to his feet, his left hand fisting tighter with the urge to punch him. "Are you even listening to me?"
"I'm listening," William said, edging away. His eyes were still not on Michael, but rather behind him. "But so are they."
"What?" Michael whirled around. He just barely stifled a gasp. It wasn't just Chica and Foxy anymore. Freddy and Bonnie stood there as well, all in a line, closer than before. Behind them lurked the Marionette, eying them with glowing white pupils, and behind it...something else. Just barely visible, an animatronic sat slumped against the wall. Fredbear.
At once, everything Michael had been pondering clicked.
"Oh," he said, backing up. He blinked and tensed. "Oh." He turned back to William, unable to keep back a smirk. "I see now."
Finally, William met his gaze, terror vanishing to a savage glare. He jerked towards Michael, causing him to flinch and back up. A loud sound followed his sudden action, and William froze up before he could make any move to attack, terror once again sweeping over his features. Michael recognized what he'd heard. The sound of a footstep...no, not one. Many, all at once. The animatronics were creeping closer.
William set his jaw, once again locking eyes with Michael. They both stood their ground, staring each other down as the same sound broke through the air again. With a final glare, William whipped around and sprinted for the exit. Michael took a step, tempted to run after him. All sense of rage vanished when his gaze flitted to Charlie who still lay crumpled on the floor, unconscious. He could barely see her breathing anymore. Not sparing William another thought, he dropped beside Charlie and gathered her in his arms. His form trembled as he quickly searched for her pulse. He felt a dull beat beneath his fingers, but it worried him. Desperate, he stood and lifted her with him. His shoulder burned, and he could hardly keep her from slipping his grasp, but he managed to as he headed for the exit.
When he reached the doors, he stopped and threw a glance over his shoulder. In the midst of saving his beloved, he'd almost forgotten the intimidating and chilling stares of the animatronics. Where each of them had once stood, there was nothing. They were gone, just like William.
Michael lingered only a moment, before kicking the glass doors open and charging for his car. He stumbled as he went but managed not to keel over. Adjusting her body in his arms, he just barely unlocked his car and laid her in the backset. Each movement weighed him down; his eyes ached, as did his shoulder, his back, and his hand. His entire body radiated pain and weakness, and this urge to break, this urge to fall over and give into the physical, emotional, and mental torment he'd endured since watching Jeremy get bitten. But no. He couldn't give in. Charlie meant everything to him; he couldn't lose her. That was a thought he couldn't even begin to comprehend.
He hardly stopped to buckle his seatbelt, hitting the gas and rushing out of the parking lot. The directions to the hospital glued in his mind while he sped down the winding roads of the town. Grasping the steering wheel with quivering hands, he drew in shaky breath after breath. Control yourself, he thought. Just focus. Keep driving. You can make it. He pressed harder on the gas pedal, the speed of the vehicle picking up considerably. No one drove around him; he went on with no consequences, swinging around every corner as he pressed onwards towards the hospital. Well...there was no one, that is, until he sped around another bend in the road. In the midst of his speed and sleep-deprived desperateness, he accidentally veered into the other lane, just as another car rushed towards him. With a gasp, Michael moved on instinct, jerking the wheel sharply to the right. Metal grazed metal as the vehicles just barely avoided colliding, Mike's car roaring right off the road and down the nearby hill.
He couldn't grasp anything, could not stop himself from driving as his car bumped and jostled down the hill and straight into a tree. The deafening sound of crunching metal broke the air, and a sudden force threw him forward. Pain exploded through his body, all sense lost in the impact of an airbag and the various sounds of a breaking car. A great ringing entered his ears and his eye slipped shut as darkness and confusion swam through his head. He lost all thought, all sense of reasoning in the pain and the panic—the overwhelming suddenness and horror of the collision after the stress of everything.
When finally his thoughts returned, he opened his eyes only to have his vision blur. A tear fell down his cheek.
"No," he said, struggling with his seatbelt, which felt more like a chain than anything. His body burned; his breaths practically suffocated him. As he threw the belt off, he pushed himself out of his seat and crawled to the back of the car where Charlie lay. She hadn't stirred since he brought her there, only moved from the suddenness of the car crash. He again held her body close, taking notice of how faint her breath had become.
"This is all my fault," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. "I-I shouldn't have dragged you into this, I shouldn't have let you come along. It was for nothing, he...he still got away. It's just like last time. All we got was hurt, and...and some answers, but not enough. Never enough. It's not worth losing you." He sank into himself completely, hugging her tightly, as if she were the only thing keeping him anchored in the midst of the storm of emotions that never completely left him. Everything felt useless. The only thing he received was more turmoil, and a vague discovery they might be able to work with, for William was still out there. But Charlie was dying, and this didn't feel worth it. Nothing felt worth it. In a constant futile attempt to make up for the past and stop his father's evil deeds, Michael had lost more than he gained. Without Charlie, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. He had accomplished nothing.
Just as he began to give into despair, he became aware of light beaming down into his car. Lifting his head, he glanced out the car window behind him. At the top of the hill he'd crashed down, he spotted the very vehicle he had swerved to avoid, its headlights beaming down on his car, probably in an attempt to spot them. A gasp of hope escaped him when he spotted the silhouettes of a small number of people climbing down towards him. Adjusting his grasp on Charlie, he just barely managed to open the door. It got a little stuck on the ground as it did, and he could not open it all the way, but just enough for the people to notice him and run over. He didn't know who he expected to see, but certainly not familiar faces.
"Mike?!" John cried, stumbling and nearly falling against the open car door.
"Wait, what?" Jessica came up beside him. "Oh no." She covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry, we didn't see your car, and—"
"Wait, we made one of our literal friends go off the road?" Carlton called from behind worriedly. "He's okay, right?"
"Guys?" Michael said. He paused, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. "What...what are you doing here? I thought—" He didn't finish his sentence, not sure how he was going to end it in the first place.
"We were on our way to the pizzeria to see how you guys were doing with the nightshift," Jessica said.
"I knew you took over the night," said John. "What happened?" Even more horror filled his face as his eyes fell upon Charlie. "Is she alright?"
"And are you both alright?" Carlton appeared at John's other side. "You're not looking so good."
"We...we were attacked," Michael said. "It's a long story, but I need to get her to a hospital. Now." The others spoke concernedly, words that were nearly nonsense as they ran into each other. Working together, the three of them got the door open and helped Michael out, who still carried Charlie. As soon as he stepped out, he pitched forward. Carlton and John caught and steadied him.
"Whoa there," John said, putting a hand on Michael's arm to keep him from falling over again. "Charlie might not be the only one who has to get to the hospital."
"Y-yeah, um, we had a rough night." Michael swallowed hard.
"Understatement of the year. You guys need help!" Jessica pointed up the hill. "Let's go!" Michael nodded, moving mostly instinctually as he passed on Charlie to Carlton and Jessica, and then climbed up the hill with them. It felt more like a mountain to him. He barely kept himself on his feet, using John's arm practically as a crutch. He managed not to topple over and reached the road, where Marla waited at the car and was incredibly alarmed to see what had happened. Promising to call a tow truck when they could, everyone loaded into the car and continued on towards the hospital. Michael's gaze didn't leave Charlie the whole way, and to his relief, no one pestered him about what had happened. They merely sat there in concerned and comforting silence, all the way to the hospital where both him and Charlie were helped. The moment he heard from the nurse that she would live, he had never felt more relieved in his life. She wasn't awake though and would take time to recover. He was unable to see her as he waited in his own hospital room, suffering from several injuries, especially his shoulder.
"Glad you're alright, Mike," Carlton said.
"Well...yes, all things considered." He flexed the fingers of his partly fractured hand. "Thanks for visiting, and uh, helping Charlie and I. Sorry I nearly totaled both of our vehicles." He gave a halfhearted, weary laugh.
"Eh, not your fault." Marla waved it off.
"Can you tell us what happened?" Jessica said. "Was it the animatronics?"
"Partly." Michael looked to the side, tensing at the very thought of the encounter with his father. "But most of the damage was from...my father."
"Wait, he actually showed up?" said John. "It's about time."
"Did you show that monster who's boss?" Carlton crossed his arms.
"Not exactly," Michael replied, his voice dripping with bitterness. "He ran away, due to the animatronics, actually. I would have chased him down, but I'm already weak enough, and—" his tone grew softer— "Charlie's life was more important." He sighed deeply, his chest giving a pang as he did. "I think this was a mistake."
"What do you mean?" Marla asked. "You found your father, right?"
"Yes, but..." Michael shook his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter, there's something more important. Guys—" he looked each of them in the eye— "I figured something out." A few of them blinked and said nothing, merely nodding solemnly.
"What is it?" John asked.
Michael paused a moment, running the events of the night through his mind. "I think at the back of my head, I always knew this...but now I know for sure. The animatronics—" he inhaled, then slowly released his breath— "they're possessed by the missing children."