Battling against Dave in perpetual turn-based combat, Michael in his new— yet, all too familiar— undead form was more-or-less an equal match for the AUBERGINE MAN; his supernatural healing factor allowing Michael to survive Dave's powerful attacks that caused fissures in the decrepit tile-floor.
On the other side of their two-dimensional battleground, Dave's seemingly endless supply of kebabs that he kept pulling out of thin air allowed him to replenish his own health, when he needed to. Stalemated and beginning to grow just as fatigued as his fellow purple opponent was, Michael's resolve to put Dave six feet in the ground was beginning to falter.
'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up… How much time has even passed? And just how many bloody skewers does this bastard have?!' Michael thought exasperatingly to himself, all while glaring at Dave's smiling face with glowing white pupils that matched his.
"You're lookin' like a hot ass mess, Sportsy; how's about you throw in the fuckin' towel before the monotony of this shit kills us both?" Dave suggested sarcastically— winking smugly at Michael.
Not disregarding his opponent's advice just yet, Michael paused for a moment to think, before finally opening his mouth and catching Dave off guard by asking him, "You say you're an alternative version of William Afton… Does that mean you've murdered children before as well?"
Squinting his eight-bit eyes towards Michael, Dave's smile disappeared as he became contemplative. "That's… A more complicated question than you think it oughta be, kid," Dave finally replied, and took notice of the hardened expression on Michael's purple face.
"Enlighten me then: what's so bloody complicated about it? Either you did it, or you didn't— there's no in between," Michael argued before growing sternly silently, and continued to stare expectantly at Dave.
Softening his stance by relaxing his shoulders, Dave looked away from Michael's accusatory gaze— opting to stare down at the dirty and cracked floor of the abandoned building.
"… Ya know fuckin' what? Yeah, I've seen my fair share of strangled toddlers, back when I was just like you: some purple undead bitch who the world couldn't give less of a shit about," Dave admitted with a serious expression on his face— one that revealed acceptance, and distant remorse.
"And before you flap your cock-sucking lips to cast judgement: yeah, I've been fuckin' carrying that weight with me, ever since I learned better from it, Sportsy— call it my "Oppsie Doppsie, I made a fuckey-wuckey" mistake," Dave continued in his monotone, wise-guy accent.
"The only solace I have from all of that shit, is knowing that I wasn't the other half of William's soul that contrived pleasure from it— his "feral side" that enjoyed every moment of pain and suffering he inflicted onto others," Dave said, and couldn't help but smile joylessly as he raised his white pupils from the floor to meet Michael's confused gaze.
"Convuated as fuck, I know; but it's all true, your honor," Dave said half-jokingly, as he raised a curved hand up to gesture at himself. "I'm what you'd refer to as the "reasonable side" of William Afton— the part of him that never wanted any part of those grizzly murders, but didn't get a fuckin' say so in the matter."
Not saying anything at first, Michael allowed for the silence itself to be a foundation for the obvious skepticism he held for what the AUBERGINE MAN had just told him. "I see… And did you actually expect me to believe any of that bullshit?"
"Fuck no, I didn't! I knew you weren't gonna believe me in the fuckin' first place— hence why I wasn't bother bringing that shit up earlier, but then you and your big mouth asked anyway," Dave scoffed, and resumed a defensive pose as he raised his fists up infront of him. "But then again, it ain't like you're fuckin' Mother Theresa yourself, Old Sport— you've got plenty of spilt blood on your kitten-mittens too!"
Letting out an elongated breath through his nostrils, Michael clenched his fists as well, as he prepared to receive another powerful punch from the AUBERGINE MAN's toddler-strangling hands. "The difference between you and I is night and day, mate: I don't target minors," Michael argued sassily, and saw Dave's brows forming angrily above his enlarged white-eyes, as the purple guy cocked his fist back.
"OH. THAT. FUCKIN'. DOES. IT. I'mma fuckin' clobba ya ass, like pie-dough on pan full of shitty minced-fruit, kid!" Dave shouted bitterly, and took aim at Michael's face— planning on scoring a critical hit, and lowering his health that he knew was beginning to regenerate slower-and-slower, with each turn that passed.
Before the two purple combatants could carry on with their seemingly endless battle to defeat one another, a large, and intrusive text-box came into both Michael and Dave's vision— freezing their turn-based combat in its tracks, and purple letters began forming the sentence, "NEOUHG FO HITS LEPNITOSS GFNIHGTI!!!"
A loud, thunderous boom echoed afterward— reminding Michael to a greater degree of the lightning storm that was taking place, just outside of whatever pieces of walls were left in the wake of their destructive battle.
"lBkCkckjA used "Darkness, Darkness, Kebab" on Dave and Michel," the white text that quickly replaced the erie purple words read, before both purple men were affected by a debilitating status debuff that was shown with depictions of floating eyeballs above their heads.
"Miss," the text box read, after Dave had unsuccessfully attacked Micheal. And before the young purple man could get his turn to inevitably miss his attack as well, the black text box they were both seeing suddenly read, "lBkCkckjA has won. Party has earned 0 EXP."
"Aw, for fuck's sake, ya stupid mutt…" Dave muttered bitterly with his arms crossed over his chest— seething with disappointment, as Michael stood still and watched as the world around them began transforming back to its three-dimensional self.
The surreal experience of witnessing the transition of dimensions left Michael feeling a sudden sense of motion sickness, while Dave himself seemed completely unphased by quantum miracle— the AUBERGINE MAN rolling his pixelated eyes at the young man, who was too busy vomiting out the remainder of his stomach acid onto the broken tile floor to notice the purple Shiba Inu with a yellow top hat and matching bow tie, that was approaching them from the destroyed entrance of where the storefront now laid in a pile of rubble.
Turning to look away from Michael to acknowledge the shadow doggo with a look of familiarity in his eyes, Dave let out an elongated sigh before kneeling down on one knee to get on the purple soul's level. "I told ya that I'd handle it on my own, mutt— don't know why you intruded on our playtime."
"OUY REEW YNLO DESPUPSO OT AKLT OT MHI, ONT KTATCA MHI!!!" The shadow doggo replied in its ethereal, and soul-shuddering voice— all without ever having to open its jaw to speak.
Seemingly understanding what the shadow entity was communicating, Dave let out a snarky chortle before pointing a curved hand accusingly at where Michael was standing and wiping his lips clean with his forearm. "Yeah, well, the fuckin' olive branch I tried extending out to that sorry sonofabitch was smacked out of my beautiful hand, shortly after dickwad over there decided to bust a cap in my Fergicious ass!"
Giving Dave an unamused stare, the shadow doggo said nothing as he cast his judgment upon him, before rolling his eyes and trotting his way on all fours towards Michael— looking up at him with his own pair of piercing, glowing white-eyes.
Expecting to be mentally assaulted with more of the strange entity's deep, booming, and echoing voice, Michael felt nothing short of uncomfortable, as he stared down at him with his head angled downward slightly.
"… Greetings. I apologize for the unfortunate beginnings of our meeting that set forth a skirmish between you and Dave; under better circumstances, perhaps this could have all been avoided if fate was not the cruel mistress she was," the shadow doggo spoke eloquently, and with a still deep and foreboding tone in his voice.
Beginning to wag his tail slowly behind his bread loaf-like body, the shadow doggo gave Michael an apologetic nod, before introducing himself as, "The name I've chosen to bear as my own in this form you see before you is "Blackjack". It's an honor to finally meet you, Michael Afton."
Suppressing the urge to pet the top-hat wearing doggo on his shadowy head, Michael kept his hand at his side and, for a split second, began to crack the faintest of smiles across his purple face, before immediately frowning as his black-and-white eyes flickered upward to where Dave was still standing a few meters away— his arms still crossed his chest, as he met Michael's glare with an ever present bitter expression of his own.
"… I take it you're with HIM?" Michael assumed with an accusing tone in his voice, and found the mere sight of the AUBERGINE MAN enough to reignite the embers of righteous anger. But before Michael's fury could get the better of him, it was then that his attention was drawn downward— the soft weight of Blackjack's frontal paws pressing up against his lower thighs immediately distracting him.
Balancing himself on Michael, while standing up on his hind legs, Blackjack's black-and-white gaze resonated with empathy— dispelling the rest of the furious young man's anger, before beginning to speak to him in his ethereal voice.
"I have no prior knowledge of the history behind you and your own universe's version of William Afton— I can only makes speculations of what you and Dave said to one another," Blackjack said, and paused methodically before going on to explain, "What I do know is what it's like to be hurt, Michael; the cruelty of having your family striped from you by a monster isn't lost on me, and nor is it lost on Dave either— despite what his vulgar bravado might have you think otherwise."
Having overheard Blackjack, Dave once again raised an annoyed brow at the shadow doggo. Despite appearing as though he had a sassy quip locked and loaded, the AUBERGINE MAN thought for a moment before seemingly deciding against saying it aloud. Sighing quietly, Dave begrudgingly lowered his arms down to his sides before making his way over to the two— coming to a halt, once he was standing behind Blackjack.
"Look Sportsy, I know you didn't bring that fine ass of yours all the way out to this piece of shit wasteland to have a meet and greet with the two of us goofy fucks," Dave stated in his wise-guy voice— seemingly wanting to move on, while still holding on to his own conflicting thoughts of Michael.
"I take it you came to this godforsaken retail store for a good reason, kid. And I'm willing to gamble that it's got something to do with the two mechanical corpses you're keeping in the backseat of that badass car you probably stole," he added knowingly with another wink.
Upon learning that Dave knew of the current states of Helpy and Fredbear, Michael's mistrusting and curious expression softened as the AUBERGINE MAN's pixelated mouth began forming into its usual black, opened mouthed smile.
"It… It didn't start that way… The trip out here, I mean," Michael clarified, and couldn't help but to recall what Dave had said about him having blood on his own hands. "This was… This was all supposed to be a simple trip to pick up some electronics, so I could build another animatronic to join Fredbear up on stage… But look at what that's gotten me," Michael mused aloud, and let out a humorless chuckle as he shook his head softly.
"Two dead fuckin' bears, and your white privilege being revoked— that's what this trip's gotten ya so far, Old Sport," Dave bluntly replied without being asked to speak, and got a small kick from the way both Blacjjack and Michael gave him a sideways glance, before cryptically adding, ""So far," being the key phrase there, kid: we can still raid the shit out of this tomb of a retail store together! Fuck around and find out, for good time's sake!"
More inclined to believe Blackjack's narrative than what the AUBERGINE MAN had to say, Michael turned his attention down to meet the shadow doggo's oddly comforting stare once again, before asking him, "I was under the impression that I was being tracked by the two of you; what are your real interests here?"
Keeping his front paws pressed against Michael's legs, Blackjack replied to the young man's question with, "Our interests reside in the otherworldly technology here; the "Circuit City" you see lying in ruin around us wasn't always a retail store, Michael."
Having more questions than answers, Michael's brows became knitted as he asked the seemingly knowledgeable shadow doggo, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"We tread upon hollow grounds; ground zero to where the first civilization took place, following the destruction of the very root of all magic itself," Blackjack replied poetically at first, and seemed ready to continue on with his flowery explanation, but was suddenly pushed gently aside by a purple leg from behind him— causing him to land on all four paws.
"Ain't got the attention span to stand by and listen to this shit, Sportsy— I'll just give you the quick and easy story of what this place is, instead," Dave stated, while shrugging his shoulders at Blackjack, who was growling up at him with snarled teeth.
"Anyway, like I was saying," Dave began, as he turned his gaze up from the annoyed shadow doggo to meet Michael's curious eyes with his own. "Picture this, Sugar Tits: imagine you wanted to run a pretty sweet fucking pizza joint, but you were too much of a nerd to handle the repercussions of actual social interactions…"
"… And instead of developing social skills to make that dream a reality, you decide to use your fuckin' elite haxor skills to create a complex simulation that houses a shit ton of pretend pizzerias— each of them running simultaneously in the background, while a primary application that's keeping them up and running and is up on the computer…"
"… Now take the commonly known multiverse theory into play, and try to use that noggin of yours to comprehend the sheer fuckin' nerd power that's going on in said theorized-multiverse— an endless amount of pizza simulations, all of which may be different in source material, but are still are trying working together in an unseen network, to emulate the mere concept of an actual pizzeria…"
"… Okay, so now imagine that the owner the OG pizzeria is God Himself, and He ain't too pleased with all of those nerd fucks mettling with His business model— their simulations were beginning to fuck with His shit, ya see, so the Big Man decided to roll up His sleeves and fuckin' do something about them…"
"… Being the completely reasonable and understanding ultimate entity that He is, God snapped His metaphorical fingers, and pulled every fuckin' figurative computer out from their universes— destroying each and every one of them within a singularity that exists in a new afterlife, that he created solely to house the bootleg copies of what He created…"
"… With all of that shit in mind, just replace the word "nerd" with "Fate", and the "computer" with "Moon Cell", and the "simulations" with "archived database of everything that's ever happened in their home universes called "reality marbles"", and you've got yourself the origin of this plane of existence you and I call our new amalgamation of a home," Dave finished with his arms spread wide— doing his best to use his lack of visible digits to perform jazz hands, all while Michael stood with a dumbfounded expression across his own purple face.
Gathering his thoughts, after mentally digesting the odd explanation that had come out of Dave's pixelated mouth, Michael quietly murmured out, "W… What the bloody hell even is a "Moon Cell"…?!"
Quick to respond before he could be interrupted for a second time, Blackjack beat Dave to the punch as he answered Michael's bewildered inquiry with, "It's similar to what Dave called it: a computer of the sort, except it uses photonic crystals to utilize quantum mechanics to transfer and store data; being able to harness the power of light itself to manipulate the properties of matter, time, and space— limited to the confines of its own universe, that is."
Although that further explanation didn't entirely put Michael's curiosity to rest, it at least helped with focusing an otherwise abstract concept. "I… I see… And these "reality marbles"… What exactly are those, now?"
"Individual and separate realms that exist within their respective Moon Cell— active simulations that exist within it, all of which drew their power from the center of their Moon Cell's core," Blackjack replied, which in of itself begged one last question from the inquisitive young man.
"… And how do you two know all of this?" Michael asked with genuinely confused eyes, as he looked up at Dave for a few moments, before turning his gaze back down to the shadow doggo.
Expecting to have his questions answered in a straightforward manner— similar to the ones he had up until that point— Michael couldn't help but to feel genuinely uncomfortable the moment both Dave's and Blackjack's demeanors both visibly shook, upon the two of them turning to exchange contemplative glances at one another.
Silently communicating to one another with just their stares alone, Blackjack let out a quiet sigh before slowly turning his head around to look back up at Michael— fear, anger, remorse, and anxiety written in his glowing white pupils, as he gathered his thoughts before finally building up the confidence to speak once more.
"We've… We've all had our own Moby Dick in both life and death, Michael. For you, your adversary was your father. For Dave and I, it was the personification of spite itself: Henry Miller; a so-called "man" who transcended the concept of death, and was able to manipulate our world beyond the fabric of reality, and from beyond the grave," Blackjack explained while involuntarily beginning to growl— the mere thought of Henry Miller igniting the same sort of righteous fury Michael had within himself earlier.
Deciding to kill two metaphorical birds with one crack-rock, Dave whipped out a cassette player from seemingly thin air with a tape already loaded in its slot. "Here Sportsy, give this little number a listen while the mutt and I scavenge this bitch for shit that'll benefit us both," Dave chimes in, before tossing the retro-looking device over to Michael— waiting for him to catch it, before musing aloud to him, "I take it we're all on the same side now? "Team Fazbender"?"
Analyzing the playback button on the plastic cassette player, Michael lowered the device slightly as he gave Dave a puzzled look. "… "Fazbender"? Didn't you mean to say "Team Fazbear"?"
"Sure kid, we can call ourselves that— so long as we're all kumbaya with each other, I don't give a shit what we're called. So long as it's not fuckin' "bear", that is," Dave said with an amused chuckle— seemingly remembering something funny, and letting out a nostalgic sigh as he reached down to scoope Blackjack up in his long arms. "Come on ya mutt, let's go do some fuckin' bargain hunting."
Hearing Dave's insistence on bringing him along to hunt for the materials they sought after, the shadow doggo's temperament seemed to be quelled for the moment, as he slowly relaxed himself within the comforting grasp of the AUBERGINE MAN. "… Make it so," Blackjack said, as he rested the bottom of his elongated jaw on top of Dave's bicep.
But before Dave and Blackjack could delve deeper into the ruined shambles of what used to be an outdated electronic hardware store, Michael called out to the two, "Oi, what hell is this fucking place even called anyway," all while still using his purple fingers to cling onto the rectangular audio device in his grasp.
Using his elongated neck to look over his shoulder at Michael, Dave's glowing white-pupils stared back at the young man momentarily in silence, before winking playfully at him and saying, "Call it whatever the fuck you want to, Sportsy! But since you've yet to voice out any objections to being part of "Team Fazbender", then you might as well call it what we do…"
"… "The Flipside"," Dave remarked, before turning his head forward and continuing further down into what used to be Circuit City— his trusty canine companion held closely to him, as two went searching for parts.
Left with the gray light of the overcast sky leaking in through the cracked and crumbled walls of the large, decayed building, Michael slowly turned his gaze back down to the cassette player in his hands— a feeling of dread coursing through his undead corporal form, and a chill running through his veins the moment his finger hovered above the playback button.
"My name is Dr. Henry Miller— this is "Log 01: Genesis"."
"Upon facing annihilation within the void of the outermost regions of existence itself— "The Void", as I've come to call it— I knew better than to accept that such a fate would be my finale… But what I found after that motley crew of morons came to confront me is most… Intriguing, to say the least."
"What I didn't anticipate was awakening alone, surrounded in an endless sea of shattered crystals, underneath an empty and starless sky above— very reminiscent of the Void, with the obvious exception being the nearly endless amounts of resources all around me…"
"Studying the photonic crystals laid before me, I've come to the conclusion that each shard contains approximately thirteen yottabytes of information stored within them— simply remarkable."
"While the quantum construct behind these crystals would otherwise prove incomprehensible to most scientists, the act of harnessing and deciphering the secrets laid dormant in these photonic structures were little more than trivial for me to understand."
"Applying my knowledge of quantum physics behind blackened souls, I utilized my own ability to traverse across time and space to manifest myself into these simulated worlds of archived data— these, "reality marbles", as what the core of each "Moon Cell" refers to them by within its stored data. It's "Serial Phantasm", or "SE.RA.PH.", as it abbreviates it to, allows me access to each Moon Cell's automaton…"
"… In short, I can use the yottabytes of archived data and photonic particulars stored within each Moon Cell's database to create matter within this brave new world I've crossed over into— override the programming of each SE.RA.PH. by utilizing spite to create an ethereal virus to spread out and conquer this sea of shattered crystals."
"Once I gain control of each and every instance of the Moon Cell that was destroyed within the singularity that brought them all here from their own respective universe, I'll create a testing ground to practice my hand at matter creation and manipulation— cultivating singularities of my own, that'll undoubtedly use the same quantum method that brought these clusters of crystals together in the first place."
"I'll model the testing grounds after a typical American city… Perhaps I'll recreate the city of Reno, Nevada— "New Reno" has a ring to it, doesn't it?"
"And though the mere concept of sentimental values are beneath me, I can't help but find humor within the catharsis of recreating "Fredbear's Family Diner" while I'm at it… Who knows? Perhaps I can summon that "Purple Muppet Baby" from Hell itself? Utilizing the same method of summoning a "servants"?"
"Hmmm… Only time— or the lack thereof— will tell."
"End of audio log."