Paper Trails

Geneva, Switzerland

Sunday 27th November 2016, 05:32 AM

Preparing to travel to another country was never an easy task. How Mike had been able to do so without any of them knowing was something she hadn't yet figured out. There had been something she was surprised by, as she had been beginning to go about getting that sorted, when Isabella had walked into her room.

"Are you okay?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at how quickly Sam had packed her things. In response, Sam shrugged.

"To be expected. What's up?"

"I'm passing through Canada on the way to drop Brim and Alice off for the Lexicon."

Blinking, Sam could sense what she was implying, but didn't want to be so direct. "Okay."

"So…did you want a ride? I can't go any further than Kentucky, but it'd save you the cramped legs."

He really knew how to pick them, Samantha mused to herself as she smiled. "Thanks, Izzi. Are you sure, though? It won't get you in any trouble, right?"

"Doubt it. I was gonna offer either way, but the big man asked me himself."

She supposed that wasn't a surprise; Carl wasn't about to leave her high and dry. Even without the offer of official help.

"Only question is," Murphy continued, "where do you want to be dropped?"

"Virginia." Sam stated immediately, knowing in her heart that was the best place to start, "Look, I just wanted to say, no hard feelings about the meeting. I understand why you and the others ruled against it. I wasn't expecting the entirety of AESIR to dedicate themselves to this operation."

"I know." Isabella gave a shrug, "We're leaving at Oh-Six Hundred. I know that I don't need to say it, but pack light, alright?"

Less than ten minutes later, Sam was on her way to their small garage. With their headquarters located in the middle of town, they had to choose the place to keep the Lawbringer and any other less-than-subtle weapons elsewhere. A short drive in a black van took them to their off-the-books facility ten miles away.

As they drove, Tyler had his marksman's rifle on his lap, carefully maintaining it. That was just about the only high-grade weapon they kept in their headquarters, mainly because he would never part with it. As he cleaned the rifle, he glanced at her. "So…why Virginia? Murph would've dropped us off in Kentucky. Would've taken less time it we-"

"I know." Sam nodded, understanding his doubt. "An old friend lives there, one who knows Mike personally. I have a hunch that Mike might have paid him a visit at some point. His name is Benji."

"Benji?" Tyler frowned, "Doesn't ring a bell. I can't see why it will give us any more of a clue where Schmidt went. We should be heading straight for Utah."

Shaking her head, Sam could see that he was wary. "Ty, we can trust Benji. Like I said, he's an old friend, both of Mike's and mine."

"That doesn't answer my question, though, Sam."

Leaning back in her seat, she saw that Alice and Brim were busy discussing their own operation. "Tom would vouch for him, too. They met back in the nineties, during the time when he was still in the Crucible. The first time we properly looked into the Fazbear Conspiracy. He helped Mike and Tom out after they had an encounter with Dutch."

"Before that, a few months before, in fact, Tom had eliminated a gang led by a man named Jacob Henshaw. His brother, Gregor, had pursued Tom and ambushed him and Mike. If it hadn't been for Benji, Tom would have died."

"More than that, when we were on the run after…after Fazbear Frights…Mike entrusted Benji with our location." Taking a deep breath as she remembered those painful weeks out in that forest as she suffered from her grief, Sam had to wait for a moment before she could continue. "If it hadn't been for him leading us through, I don't think we would've lasted much longer."

Tyler snorted at that. "You would've. You lot would've gotten through that fine. He's a git, but Mike's an outdoorsman to some degree. You had Carl with you, too. He's got a good head."

"My point is," Sam continued, "Benji helped us out, at great personal risk, twice. He lost an arm fighting alongside Tom. Mike trusts him like a brother. There is no way I can see him causing us trouble, or stabbing us in the back."

But Tyler didn't seem convinced. "I get that, but that's not the point. Why are we wasting time going to this Benji when we know where Mike probably went? If we delay going straight to Utah, there's a good chance that we'll miss something. Next thing you know, his trail would've gone cold, too."

"It's simple." Sam explained, "Benji is Mike's childhood friend. After the case was taken over by Donovan, Mike left his home with Benji to start a new life elsewhere. They lived together for at least a few years. If Mike was to return home, alone, with the intention of throwing himself into danger…I have a good feeling he first went to meet up with Benji."

"And why would that be important?"

"Because if we're going to track Mike down, we need to know what it was he was coming for. He might have confided in his close friend first."

Though she could tell that Tyler was still doubtful, he didn't argue any further. Minutes later, they arrived at the facility and entered. Soon after, once Isabella had set up her prize possession and was sure it was ready to fly, she gave them a thumbs up.

As she got onboard the ship, Sam couldn't help but reflect on how things would have been different, had her beloved husband arrived in Hurricane in this very aircraft, his allies by his side, rather than as a lone wolf. Once she was sitting down in her seat, the aircraft rumbled, roaring to life.

As with any flight she had taken throughout her life, Sam felt her body and mind react in confusion as if they travelled backward in time. A journey from Switzerland to America took under twelve hours, yet due to the difference of time zone, it would not be twelve hours from when they left. A five hour difference changed their perception of things.

If the others with her felt that change, they barely showed it. At some point, Tyler had lowered his hat over his eyes and seemingly fell asleep, whilst Alice had put on some music, zoning out at some point. The only one who hadn't a need for this, as stoic as always, was Brimstone.

Some point during the day, Sam felt the Lawbringer descend and slow, rumbling. In the cockpit, Murphy announced, "Approaching the drop zone in five! It's gotta be a quick one. You two ready?"

Before Sam could give her answer, Tyler shifted awake in an instant. "Roger that, Murph."

Sam quickly checked that she had everything with her, as she could feel the ship lowering until the rumble signified they were on solid ground. With a glance, Tyler gave her a smirk. "Showtime, Sam."

With a jitter, the loading ramp descended and light from the outside shimmered within. As she stood up, Sam looked back towards the cockpit. "Thanks again, Izzi!"

"No need. Keep an eye out and come back safely, the both of you!"

"Roger that, Murph." Tyler called back as he walked down the ramp. As Sam joined him, Alice shot them a reassuring nod. Leaving the Lawbringer, Sam joined Tyler as he walked down the slope carrying his rifle on his back.

As they walked, Sam felt the air shift as the Lawbringer once again ascended into the skies, glancing back. Within a few short moments it was back up into the air and sailing out beyond the horizon behind the mountain. As she walked alongside Tyler out of the clearing into the wooded area surrounding them, Sam looked at Tyler with a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure carrying that with you is a good idea?"

"We're in an open carry state, Sam." Tyler shrugged, "We pass through Tennessee or Illinois, I'll put it away, don't you worry."

Without a counterargument, Sam changed the subject. "So, what's our next step?"

"We get a car, then we go see this Benji guy."

Only a short few hours later, they were sitting in a rental, heading deeper into the state. There had been considerable effort on Sam's part to avoid Tyler's suggestion of stealing a vehicle. It had cost them another hour to reach a service that held no risk, but they had found it. All that lay ahead for their next task was reaching Benji's farmstead.

During his time with them, Mike had talked about the farmstead where he had lived after the closing of the Fazbear Conspiracy. Without a need to play his cards close to his chest, Mike had been open.

"Just on the outskirts of Roanoke." Mike had explained, during a meetup a few months after their escape, "Nice and open, but we didn't get a lot of visitors. Apart from the occasional hunter or hiker. It was nice. Quiet. Could get boring, after a while."

Holding the map she had taken with her, Sam looked through it as Tyler navigated the Virginian roads. By the time they had finally reached the dirt path leading towards the farmstead, the sun had started to set in the distance. Once they saw the building, Tyler parked up alongside the dirt road.

The house stood in the middle of a huge clearing, forests on all sides. White weary walls and a black tiled roof signified how long it had been standing there.

"Nice place." Tyler muttered, "Why did Mike leave it?"

"He grew restless." Sam admitted, remembering a talk she had with him about why his relationship with Benji was strained. "He left about five, ten years ago, formed the Seekers with Ella and Jack."

Tyler gave a low, derisive bark of laughter. "So, Mike couldn't let sleeping dogs lie? Seems to be a habit."

Not noticing the look she gave him, Tyler kept on walking. With a sigh, she decided to let it be. There was not a single way she could explain to him in words what had changed.

Her attention shifted when she saw the figure over by the side of the house, hanging up some squirrels. Knowing that Tyler also saw him, they quickly but steadily approached. Noticing that he wasn't alone, the figure turned his head and saw them approaching. He shifted his modified crossbow off his back onto his arm.

"Can I help you?" He called out, clearly wary, "No offence, but this is private property."

"Hi, Benji." Sam smiled and when he saw her face, his wariness dissipated and he smiled widely.

"Oh, Sam! Sorry, I didn't realise it was you!"

The two of them hugged as Tyler watched on, looking around in his usual stance. Looking at him, Benji raised an eyebrow. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my brother-in-law. Benji, this is Tyler. Tyler, Benji."

"Brother-in-law?" Benji had a better look at the disinterested Tyler. "Yeah, I can see the resemblance. Is that a L12?"

"Aye." Tyler confirmed.

"Damn, that's nice. I've heard good things about that one. Must be one heavy sonofa, though."

"It's more versatile than most others, at least."

Sam almost rolled her eyes. "Boys and their guns…"

That made Benji laugh. "Eh, can't help it. You two hungry? I was about to make myself dinner."

As they went to the house, Benji let them in and took his jacket off. "I have a strange feeling that I know what this is all about. Mike?"

"Isn't it always?" Tyler muttered as he took his gun off and placed it against the wall.

"Yeah, he popped by a couple months ago. Just wanted to meet up, have a drink."

Taking a breath, Sam explained the situation. "We think he might be in trouble. Did he say anything to you?"

"Like I said, just wanted to meet up, then he headed out. Back to Hurricane, I reckon. Why? You heard from him?"

"No." Sam responded quietly, "We haven't."

New Harmony, Utah

Tuesday 20th September 2016, 14:25 PM

This wasn't the first time he had built up a base of operations, even though at his budget it was more of a safehouse. Up until he had formed the Seekers alongside Jack and Ella, all he had ever done was move from place to place armed with a laptop, a bike, and a struggling will.

His and Ella's time together had taught him a lot. Never being a house owner before in his life, he needed all the help he could get. Even if his old family home wasn't exactly the classic picture of a place to live.

As had been expected, taking ownership of the house hadn't been a simple process. But the right-placed bribe and ensuring no legal issues would occur had helped. Since he held the deed to the land, the documents to go with it, and considering the state of the area, the money spent had been mostly as a courtesy and as to make the process as quick as possible.

At least if I end up calling in backup, Mike considered, we'll have an actual place to stay instead of being squatters.

Not a day went by that Mike didn't want the help.

He knew that it was unlikely to say the least that Samantha's friends in AESIR would want to spend the resources he already knew were thinning to assist him in this case. Worst still, he knew that if Samantha and Carl found out what he was doing, there was a good chance they'd do it anyway to drag him back home.

Right now, he was out in the open without any allies and he still hadn't dealt with his legal situation. Technically, with that warrant still out there, Mike was avoiding a murder charge bound to come bite him.

As he walked through the overgrown road that was still not very viable to drive a car through, Mike entered what was now his house and thought about his next move. With everything that had transpired over the last two years, he knew that his first goal was to prepare the house to suit his purposes.

The question that he was currently mulling over was to what extent? There was a good chance that this was only going to end up being a temporary accommodation. Which meant that going crazy would just end up being a waste of time.

On the other hand, what if it wasn't? Even if this lead of his ended up being a bust, having a legal residence, one that he was surprised to find had no unpaid mortgage or anything else that would cause him an issue other than maintenance and repairs, was a boon. Not only to him, but perhaps also to AESIR.

Offering them a safehouse that they could use would maybe be a decent peace offering when he met up with them again.

Not only that, Mike reminded himself, but digging up these leads I found might take some time.

Looking around the house, at the chipped walls and exposed floors, he imagined what it would look like fresh and repaired. It would be a nice change of pace to be living in a home of his own that wasn't falling apart.

With his mind made up, Mike left the house and returned to his car down the driveway on the street before his property. Some short time later, after stopping by a discount store in Hurricane with some makeshift furniture, Mike returned with some essentials and spent the rest of the day setting them up in the house.

As he woke up from the camper bed he bought, Mike wiped his sleepy eyes and got ready for the day. Once he was fed and prepared, he left the house again and drove back into Hurricane. With the cracks in the walls, as well as the broken windows, his next goal was to patch them up to the best of his abilities.

In total, he had Twenty Five Grand left, most of it from Caine's gift to him two decades ago. What better way to spend it than to fix up the place he had once called his home?

There was a DIY store on the corner of a street in the middle of town which he picked, having gone there before. It was attached to a small complex that had the occasional flux of people. As he was going through a paint aisle, he caught something in the corner of his eye.

An employee muttering something to Mike presumed to be his manager and he felt a twinge in his gut when he swore the manager glanced his way.

Swallowing his nerves, Mike finished what he was grabbing and then wheeled his trolley over to the cash desk.

"Hey." Mike said briefly as he began to pay for the items and the employee greeted him in kind. Each second that passed, Mike could feel his own breathing and had to fight to keep the panic at bay. In the reflection of the security camera up above, he saw the white and yellow of a security jacket.

A security guard had just entered the shop.

I've been recognised, he told himself. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to run, to try and escape before he was grabbed. Somehow, he managed to remain calm, hoping for the best.

Then the security guard confronted a man in a red jacket, asking him to stop. As Mike left the store with his bought items, he witnessed the guard demand the items this man in red had stuffed into his coat.

Just another shoplifting, he reassured himself as he went back to the car. Once he was in, he took a moment to bring his breathing back into check. It had been a Godsend that he stayed calm, but a decision came to mind as he drove back.

I need a new identity, he decided, in case I'm not so lucky.

For the rest of that day, Mike began the process of repairing his house. For now, he had to settle on boarded-up windows and a lot of temporary fixes. Once he was a bit more settled, he would start to actually get the house back up to scratch; he was already mapping out wallpaper and making more creative choices.

But that's not what I should be focusing on, he reminded himself curtly. What he needed to solve next was making sure he had the legal identification so that nobody would come to the conclusion that he was Mike Schmidt, wanted murderer.

Of course, that was only one possibility. When he had been flown to Europe inside of the experimental CV-22 Osprey that had to be stripped down just enough for it to be considered a civilian aircraft called the Lawbringer, owned and piloted by Isabella Murphy, he'd made a point to ditch all his identification out of fear of being extradited.

AESIR had, of course, set him up with enough legal documents to keep him in Switzerland without anyone batting an eye. That hadn't included a VISA to live in America, mostly because they hadn't planned for that chance.

As Mike sat there in his house, considering what his best option would be, he knew that there was only one choice he definitely had. After all, who did he know that was a criminal with his own enterprise, dealing in various work such as drug peddling, credit card fraud, and documentation that Mike not only knew about, but had also worked with in the past?

Though none of them to his knowledge had even tried to talk to Quantum ever since they had fled from New Harmony last year, what was the harm in buying from an old employer?

Getting up from his slump, Mike decided to head straight for the old warehouse he'd last seen Quantum and see if his gang was still operating there. Within less than an hour, he was pulling up to the warehouse and noticed the watchman by the door. Satisfied, Mike got out of the car and approached the man.

"Hey, what are you doing here, man?" The watchman spoke harshly, glaring at Mike with suspicion, "This is private property. You better get out of here."

Mike raised his hands, "It's okay. I'm a friend. This is still Quantum's place, right? If not…"

"Wait." The watchman interrupted, staring at him with squinted eyes, "I've seen you before."

Please don't be a bad thing, Mike pleaded in his head as he waited for the guard to continue.

"Hey, you were in that group, right? With the white doctor lady and the black guy?"

"I was." Mike admitted, knowing it was too late to back out now. "I worked with your boss before."

"Yeah, I remember. What do you want?"

"I want to make a purchase."

"Alright. What kind?"

"Documentation."

The guard looked at him strangely, "You don't look Mexican, man. Why you need it?"

"It's…complicated." Mike hesitated, knowing deep down he wasn't lying.

"Well, the boss ain't in. He's over in LA working on some other stuff. I can clear it with him, but I can't promise he'll bite."

"That's all I'm asking for." Mike promised. As he left the warehouse to return back home, he wondered what the likelihood that Quantum would actually play ball with him. After all, he hadn't ever inquired to Sam nor Carl how their working relationship with the criminal emperor had ended and whether they'd parted ways on friendly terms.

If not, Mike had a feeling being refused was the least of his issues.

As two days and nights passed without an answer, Mike decided to continue his work at the house, both fixing it up and continuing to pursue the leads. On the second night, he sat at the makeshift desk he'd gotten the day before, drumming through the notes. By that point, he could almost recite the blueprints and most of the other documentation by heart.

Yet, to his irritation, it hadn't led him any further towards answers than when he'd started. All he was looking at was potential tax fraud, which didn't help.

He almost jumped out of his seat when his burner mobile started ringing; one of them, at least. Finding it in his backpack, Mike took the one that was ringing out and saw the unknown number listed. With some anxiety, he answered it. "Hello?"

"Is that Mike that I'm talking to?"

It surprised him how he recognised the voice, in spite of never having talked to the man one-on-one. "Speaking."

"You requested my services a couple days ago. Are you still in need of them?"

"I am."

"Then I'm waiting by the warehouse. You've got until tomorrow night to meet."

Without any desire to miss the deadline, Mike got up from what he was doing and went straight to his car. A short amount of time later, he was back at the warehouse, walking straight to the front door guard again. "I'm here to see him."

With a glint in his eye, the guard radioed someone inside, who came to meet Mike. As he was led through the open spaces of the warehouse by the man, Mike felt curious about having not been asked to disarm himself. They went up a staircase into an office, where Quantum was waiting, eyebrows raised.

"So, you are Mike Schmidt?" Quantum asked, hands pressed together. "We never properly met."

"We didn't." Mike confirmed as he was offered a seat.

"And it isn't a job you are looking for? There's enough going around, at the moment."

"I have a lot of work to do myself, I'm afraid. I'm needing some identification; something to keep anyone from getting suspicious."

"Because of what happened in Hurricane last year?"

Not even choosing to ask how he knew about that, Mike shrugged, "For starters."

"Very well. First things first…"

The man who led Mike in went to one of the drawers in the room, taking out an electronic device, the size of a fingerprint reader, that almost smelled like cooked meat.

"Ah." Mike mumbled.

As the week reached its end, Mike found himself walking around his house on a Sunday morning, assessing his work. He stepped towards one of the windows, now thickly boarded up with hard boards of wood with a sheet of plastic for the insulation plastered on the inside. Looking around at the other windows, he nodded in satisfaction to see they were much the same.

Under his feet, the brand new carpets had finished setting and he could now walk around in bare feet comfortably. Even still, there was a lot more work to do when he wasn't still researching.

Once more, his burner phone started to ring on the dining table. He answered it, immediately knowing who it was. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mike. How has the week suited you?"

"Fairly well." Mike answered , still feeling strange from having these sorts of casual conversations with someone he knew to be very dangerous. Although, he pointed out to himself, that never stopped you with Tom. "How are things on your end?"

"Business. As per usual. Your purchases are now ready to be picked up. I still have to admit my confusion on the name you have chosen, though. Care to explain?"

"It's for a reason." Mike assured, even though he still didn't know why he had chosen it himself. It felt wrong, like graverobbing. "Where can I pick it up?"

"The usual place; ask my guy and he'll deliver it to you right there."

"Okay." Mike breathed in, knowing in his heart that at least this step was sorted. "Thank you. For the business, and for the time."

"Of course, Mike. Though I already understand your position on the matter, if you ever feel like you can spare the time, I'll always have work for you. Take care of yourself."

For what he hoped would be the last time, Mike drove back to the warehouse and approached the front guard again. Before he even reached him, the guard radioed someone inside and gave Mike a friendly-enough nod. "They're bringing it down now."

Less than a minute later, an envelope was brought down to them and hand-delivered to Mike. Thanking them for the time, Mike left the warehouse and returned to his car. With steady hands, he opened the envelope and took out the contents.

In his hands was a driving license, a birth certificate, a valid 401k, a VISA, four burnt fingers and two similarly-burnt thumbs. The price of liberty, Mike mused as he returned home.

Though he knew there were still a few things he would've liked to do with the house, he decided to do so in his free time. In his gut, he knew that his next best step was to get to work deciphering these leads and see where they took him.

Having removed most of the rubble and dirt mounds covering the drive leading to his house, all that was left were the collections of weeds signifying the neglect the property had so-long experienced.

Once he was parked up and inside the warmth of his now-insulated and heated house, Mike headed to his designated study area and retrieved the files he still kept in the locked box inside his parents' bedroom. Once he had them on his desk, he sat down and gave a sigh. As had been the case for the last week, the name on every one of the blueprints remained in his head.

Afton Robotics. There could be nobody else, of course. Ever since that name was discovered in those newspapers, it seemed that everything always led right back to him.

William Afton, the Purple Man, who killed the children that would go on to possess the Marionette, the Fazgang, and the Fazcrew. At least eleven children had died by his hands. Not only that, but he was also the co-creator of Fredbear's Family Diner and likely a leading figure in Freddy Fazbear's. The Ying to Henry's Yang, whilst the latter had been the one to design the animatronics, would it be too much of a stretch to say that it was William who brought the business to life?

With all this considered, it came back to one simple fact: These Funtime Animatronics, as well as their home of Circus Baby's Pizza World, were all designed by him. These mysterious animatronics, which if his theory was correct, were not designed to be entertainers, nor fascinating new-age technology which would change the world.

They were designed for the express purpose of catching and maybe even killing more victims for their master. A question that was left unanswered, however, was whether they had been successful in their job.

Mike's answer not only came from the newspaper announcing the cancellation of Circus Baby's, but the various missing persons' cases that happened before that. At least two children had gone missing during the time. Nearly ten years later, three people, all adults, were killed in Hurricane and the surrounding areas, all mauled with cuts that the Police had never been able to decipher.

People go missing all the time, Mike recalled the words spoken over twenty years ago, back when it had only been a band of four misunderstood and manipulated animatronics that he had to deal with. At least other than Jeremy Fitzgerald, the Fazcrew hadn't harmed a single soul. Deep down, Mike had a feeling these Funtime Animatronics wouldn't be so lucky.

Holding his hand in his hands, he felt the irritation surging up in his throat. No matter where he looked, it came right back to them. With no official statement on what happened to the animatronics after Circus Baby's closed, he was stuck in limbo. For all he knew, they might have been dismantled, recycled, and made into rulers, TVs, and Soda Cans. Was this just another dead end.

No, he adamantly told himself, no, this must lead somewhere. I just have to find the trail.

Standing up, he gave another weary sigh. "I find the trail, and I find the animatronics."

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: No worries mate, I appreciate you taking the time. Having to write in the point of view of a child killer was not something I relish, but it is going to be a necessity for this one. His processes, as well as the way he works, is something attatched to every aspect of his being, for better or worse. With Mike going off on his own, a lot of it is down to his guilt over what happened in Fazbear's Fright, I'm sure. He might feel that had he not asked for help, he wouldn't have Tom's fate and the rest of what happened after on his concious. AESIR are going to remain a large part of the series, and as Samantha and Tyler go into the unknown picking up the trail, they at least won't be doing it entirely alone.