All within the short span he had to transform his ramshackle pizzeria into a reputable establishment, Michael surprised himself by how much he was able to accomplish in such little time. Choosing to spare Miss Piggy proved to be the right decision for him, as by that point the blond muppet had been so desperate for comfort that she took an immediate liking to him and Helpy— or in the very least, she was desperate enough for companionship to take Michael's offer to work for them.

Following the recommendation laid out to him by Helpy, Michael used Mr. Hugs to vacuum up all of the cotton innards of Miss Piggy's massacred ex-friends— including her abuser, who she had no problem staring at while Michael used his knife to harvest his felt-skin. As macabre as it was, Miss Piggy reluctantly volunteered to stitch her friends' felt-pelts together the next day, only once Michael and Helpy had dyed all the material into a beige, golden color.

Sacrificing Trash and the Gang for parts, Michael was able to combine their parts together to create the structure of an endoskeleton— a complex schematic that the prodigy had long since memorized. Using some of his leftover lien to purchase more valuable parts from a nearby junkyard— within the heart of the metropolitan epicenter of the Hub— Michael spent the entire afternoon with his crew to create his first actual animatronic: Fredbear— a questionable choice that Helpy couldn't help but raise a brow to.

"As cheesy as it is to say, I'm beginning to believe that there's some truth to what that green little bastard said about why we're here, mate," Michael had explained to his foot-tall companion, who stood before the stage where Fredbear stood front and center.

"Despite what he said, I truly do see what you and I have here as a second chance," Michael continued to say, and remained oddly calm even as he gazed up at white, metal teeth that lined the inside of Fredbear's hydraulic-powered jaws. "But even so… He was right about one thing… W-Wait, uh… Hold on… No, that's not right— that damn frog was off his rocker," Michael muttered to himself, as he began realizing how much he didn't actually agree with Kermit's last testimony as to why they were there.

After some reflection, Michael came to his own conclusion as to why he chose Fredbear as their starting animatronic. "… Look mate, it worked once before, yeah? The entirety of the Fazbear Entertainment empire began with this fat-bastard— he's our best chance at turning a profit," Michael elaborated, all the while remembering the fateful moment that changed his, and his family's lives for the worse.

Sighing, Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Silently staring up at the animatronic, with its purple top hat and matching bow tie, the young man momentarily closed his eyelids before turning to look down at Helpy once more.

"If you're still expecting a philosophical explanation mate, then how about this?" Michael offered preemptively with a question, before solemnly saying, "Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it… So," Michael said while clapping his hands together, and raised his own spirits before going on to tell Helpy, "Let's do it right this time, and deliver that good ol' Faz-Spirit that we promised everyone!"

And so, armed with Fredbear as the star of their show, Michael and Helpy— with the help of their new social media manager and costume designer, Miss Piggy— worked overtime, in order to properly stock their supplies for the grand opening of "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria". A name that Michael wished he had the foresight and money left over to change to "Fredbear's Family Diner", but he simply would have to make do with what he had.

When the time finally came for Michael's newly renovated pizzeria to open its double doors to the public, the young man was simply gobsmacked at the mere sight of the parking lot being full with not only parked cars of various designs, but the line of people waiting to get inside went as far as the eye could see.

Or at least, that's what Michael envisioned in his dream— before waking up, slouched over the security desk.

In reality, their grand opening was almost as lackluster as the one his restaurant had on its first day of operation; the parking lot had about five vehicles parked outside, with only a few parties of people waiting outside of the pizzeria's front entrance.

Being the first group to see the location was none other than Ruby Rose and her three friends— all of which were dressed in far more fantasy-esque garments than the ones Michael last saw them in.

Greeting Michael with an upbeat smile, the black-haired girl raised her arms up to lower the hood of her red cloak— her light-gray eyes dazzling with enthusiasm, as she looked up into the slightly-nervous blue eyes of the young man before her.

"It's a pretty big day for us, huh?" She asked excitedly, before turning around to stare at the line of people standing behind her and her friends, along with the five vehicles whose occupants were beginning to vacate from their seats.

Arching a brow at her, Michael couldn't help but to be jaded at first about how Ruby had included herself as part of the team. However, it didn't take long for the young man to remember that most of their refurbished property wouldn't have been made possible, without the young teenager's investment— including his prized knife, and the outdated smartphone that were his two only personal possessions.

It was then that a begrudged smile found its way across Michael's lips, and soon a cathartic sigh escaped from his nostrils as he softened his gaze. "Yeah… It certainly is, Ruby— it certainly is," Michael agreed in a content voice, before stepping aside to begin greeting each and every person who stepped foot into Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria— thanking each of them for coming out to see what they had in store for them.

With Helpy manning the front counter inside the lobby, the diligent little bear made to dial up the cuteness factor whenever it came time to silently show each party the price of general admission. For the price of twenty lien a person, Helpy was able to rizz his way into selling sixty-three tickets for the first hour they were open— almost reaching the amount of lien they had received from Ruby's investment.

Staff shortages meant that Michael needed to get creative with delegating work to his extremely limited staff. Luckily for him, Ruby was more than willing to take a crack at it, and happily took over the kitchen to allow Michael to oversee the operations of his pizzeria. And although Ruby lacked the culinary skills to make a pizza from scratch, she was at least competent enough to use an oven to reheat the already-made pizzas that Michael and Helpy had spent most of the entire night preparing for the grand opening.

However, a few hours in of having to repeatedly come up with an explanation for how picking a balloon from a barrel was supposed to be an enjoyable experience, and as well as having to constantly stop various teenagers from shoving the heads of children into the jaws of Fredbear, it soon became apparent to Michael that he wasn't cut out for customer service, as much as he had hoped he was.

Once Helpy had sold their one-hundredth ticket to a green ogre who had brought his wife and children to see what the hubbub was about, the little animatronic bear celebrated their anticipated milestone by pulling down the drawstring from the ceiling— retracting the hidden compartment-doors placed around the party room and lobby, and raining down colorful confetti while using his iconic air horn to announce their accomplishment.

Using that as an opportunity to make his escape, Michael stuck to the walls as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd of confused patrons— most of their eyes on Fredbear, who— to Michael's nervous surprise— announced to the party room in loud, and warm voice, "Boys and girls of every age! I want to thank each and everyone of you for coming here today!"

Nearly forgetting his escape plan entirely, Michael couldn't help but to slow down his pace as he got near the entrance of the kitchen. 'How is it talking…? I never installed a voice module— let alone a speaker,' Michael wondered to himself, as he stared across the party room through all the remaining pieces of confetti that were twirling down to the checkered floor.

Finding himself unsettled, Michael no longer had the comfort of being under the impression that the animatronic he created was nothing more than a mere replica of the real Fredbear who took his younger brother's life.

Seemingly oblivious to Michael's presence, Fredbear's emerald green eyes stared down at the surprised expressions of all the patrons alike who were conjugating around the base of his stage— his white glimmering teeth shining underneath the light of the mounted spotlights above.

"There's plenty of new and exciting faces here today— many possible friends to be made, even," Fredbear mused positively with his facial expressions becoming less-and-less static— seemingly defying the limits of the endoskeleton, as Michael began noticing just how much more fluid his motions were becoming by the second.

"All of this? All of these homebrewed arcade games, and secondhand furnishings? I know it wasn't exactly that none of you were expecting— believe me, I've seen better sets up at the likes of Woodstock," Fredbear said with a closed-lip smirk forming across his fuzzy muzzle, as he raised the arm he wasn't using to hold his wireless microphone up to gesture at the humble amenities that the pizzeria had to offer.

"And at face-value, I completely understand the underwhelming reactions you've all had so far— hey, many of you might even have already made the decision to never return to this ol' family diner again," Fredbear continued, before getting down on the same level of his captivated audience by plopping his felt-bottom onto the front ledge of the wooden stage— his legs dangling down from its skirted side, as he kept the microphone raised to his friendly face.

"But for those of you who are imaginative, and for those of you who came here with the vague hope of recapturing some of that magic from your childhood… I implore you to look beyond what your eyes can perceive, and instead look around you at what CAN be," Fredbear said enthusiastically, and waited for those who were participating to take another long gander at their surroundings— more often than not, many ended up exchanging uncertain expressions with one another.

Once he had the audiences' attention once more, Fredbear gave them a knowing wink before stating, "Not convinced yet, eh? Well, how's about this old bear gets down from his ledge, and show all of you youngsters how we used to get down and groovy— back in the seventies~!?"

And like that, Michael watched with a mixture of awe and deep-seeded fear as the nearly seven-foot tall animatronic stumbled down from where he had been sitting— nearly knocking over a few customers, before narrowly catching his footing as he stumbled through the surrounding crowd.

"Oooh! Pardon me, friends! It's been a while since I've had to use to these gosh-darn things," Fredbear apologized with a goofy look of embarrassment across his fuzzy, beige-colored face— earning himself a few good hearted laughs from those around him, who found his clumsy nature to be endearing.

Due to the large animatronic's warm and charismatic nature, the nearby children took it upon himself to lead him by his massive hand down the center aisle of the party room— genuine smiles forming across their faces, and the faces of their satisfied parents who began following behind the children as Fredbear began partying with them.

Playing balloon barrel, singing into the microphone while needing space to shake his hips, Fredbear was livening the crowd up more than Michael ever possibly could; surprising the young man even more, when the outwardly showed his affinity for the way Ruby's reheating skills, when he took the large slice of pizza that a child handed to him and began messily eating it with a wide smile across his muzzled face.

Unable to watch as red-pizza sauce drizzled down the fuzzy jaw of the beige-colored animatronic, Michael decided to avoid his own trauma ruining the magical moment for him by finally taking his leave— his mind reflecting over what he had just saw, as he walked a normal pace down the western hallway.

'It's… Undeniable that the inner workings of… Wherever the hell this place is— heaven, hell, or elsewhere entirely… It's not only breathing life into mere animatronics— no matter how basic, or complex they may be… It's giving them sentience— a soul to inhabit their bodies,' Michael silently concluded, before beginning to feel a strange twinge of guilt as he made his way further down the well-lit corridor.

'If this is an afterlife where its inhabitants are capable of dying for a second time… Does that mean I murdered Trash and the Gang, when I scraped them to make Fredbear? Or… Or is it like that argument? About how ideas can't die, merry the vessels that hold them?' Michael wondered to himself, and thought about it a bit longer before sighing once more.

'I suppose I can try recreating them, whenever I get around to it— no point in rushing that little side project, as far as I'm concerned,' Michael thought to himself, and was soon taken aback at what he saw upon turning the corner.

Standing outside of the opened door frame, Michael stared down at where Miss Piggy was sitting down at the office chair— her quiet sobbing coming off as different, compared to what he had heard upon his initial encounter with her.

Not wanting to startle the plus size muppet, and accidentally get himself dismembered by the electro-magnetic door, Michael politely knocked his knuckles against the wall outside of the office. Greeting her with a patient smile as she swiveled toward him in her chair, Michael waited until Miss Piggy was done blowing her snout into her white handkerchief, before finally speaking to her.

"Are you…? Are you faring well?" Michael asked in a warm, reassuring voice, and kept smiling softly at the blond three-foot muppet.

Wiping the smeared massacra from beneath her blue eyes, Miss Piggy smiled bittersweetly at Michael as she gave him a soft nod. "Oh, doing… Adequately enough, I suppose— with all things considered, sweetie," she replied in her usual high-pitched, posh voice, and stuffed her used handkerchief into the confines of her vintage purse that was on top of the security desk— near where the keyboard and mouse were at.

Pointing up at her own face, Miss Piggy let out a cathartic chuckle before explaining to Michael, "These? These are but tears of melancholic joy— pretty little pains in my shapely butt, that I haven't had the pleasure of experiencing in… Quite some time, dear..."

Having developed an appreciation for the anthropomorphic swine before him, Michael acknowledged Miss Piggy's emotions with a respectful nod before showing interest in her by inquiring, "Does this…? Does this have any correlation to your past life?"

Nodding her head again, Miss Piggy slowly swiveled her chair back toward the CRT monitor that sat on top of the desktop computer laid sideways before her keyboard— her watery, plastic eyes staring longfully at its glowing screen.

"As… Delu-lu as it may sound to you, Mikey… I can't help but see moi-self in that bumbling oaf— or in the least, what I used to be," Miss Piggy explained with a soft chuckle escaping her parted lips, and kept staring at all of the joy Fredbear was giving to the children and adults around him as he paraded through the humble party room.

"He… He said he was from the seventies— he even mentioned Woodstock, oddly enough," Miss Piggy continued, while sounding even more nostalgic than she already was, as she continued to reminisce. "This world, or whatever mumbo-jumbo afterlife it's supposed to be… Moi is uncertain whether the concept of time even exists here— there's no consistency of the types of people that I've seen since being here, vous see."

"Vous?" Michael questioned, to which Miss Piggy softly giggled at.

"Yes, dearie; it's French for "you"," She explained, before letting out another sigh as he said, "That's assuming of course that vous knows what the word "French" even entails; Moi has come across plenty of others who've apparently never even heard of France— as shocking as that may be!"

Having not even thought about the possibility of others being otherworldly, as by that point Michael had been under assumption that everyone who was sharing their strange afterlife with had at least originated from some variation of Earth— or even a different timeline altogether— the young man found himself taken aback a bit at the new revelation.

"That's… That's something I didn't ever take into consideration, really," Michael admitted, while reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tried his best to wrap his intelligent mind around just how vast the sea of possible multiple universes was.

Seeing him silently struggling, Miss Piggy told Michael, "Don't overthink it dearie; vous might give yourself a wrinkle trying to grasp it all in that cute little head of yours," and waited for him to visibly finish mentally-digesting what he could from that headache-inducing realization, before finally seeming to come to terms with it.

Letting go of trying to understand more than he could at the moment, Michael licked his lips lightly with his tongue before letting out an elongated breath. "Right, so…" Michael began awkwardly, and felt even more uncomfortable as Miss Piggy turned her glassy-eyed gaze toward him. "If… If you wouldn't mind switching me places, I'd be more than welcome to the idea of you getting to relive some of those glory days of yours— out in the party room, where ol' Fredbear is reliving his."

Though the thought had been on her mind, Miss Piggy was taken aback at first by Michael's offer— a glimmer of enthrallment that she had thought had long since been snuffed out forming in her blue eyes.

"I…! I-I don't know, Mikey! It's…! I-It's been so long since I've performed in front of a crowd— even one as small as that," Miss Piggy said with excitement and anxiety in her voice, as she began nervously tapping her hooved-feet down against the checkered floor below.

"What if…?! What if I lost my mojo?! I used to be so funny, and entertaining— what if…? W-What if that's not the sort of lady I am anymore…?" Miss Piggy asked with a solemn voice, as fear began creeping its way into her mending confidence. "Maybe… Maybe Kermi was right… Maybe I'm still holding onto something that just isn't there anymore— something special to moi that… Something that might not have ever existed at all…"

Thinking about what he would say before blurting something out that he would regret, Michael silently gathered his thoughts before finally conjuring up a sincere argument to be made. "Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, Miss Piggy— your friends and I weren't on the best of terms, as you can well imagine."

Unable to help but to scoff dryly at what Michael had just said, Miss Piggy smiled sarcastically to herself as she muttered, "Yeah, that's a huge understatement dearie, but vous go off Queen…!"

Feeling thankful that the blond muppet before him still was capable of being sassy, Michael smiled amusingly at her before going to say, "Kermit and Gonzo, they… They both represented two diametrically opposed ideals about their purposes that conflicted with one another's— obviously, of course."

"Hmm~…! Yeah, of course," Miss Piggy sassily chimed in, while promoting Michael to continue as she nodded her head at him.

"With that being said, Miss Piggy… I see you as an outliner to their faults— someone who's strong enough to be a survivor, and someone who's capable of doing what the two of them were unable to do for themselves," Michael said encouragingly.

Feeling intrigued by the spark of hope the young man's words were igniting within her, Miss Piggy leaned in towards him on her chair, and stared up into his comforting blue eyes as she nervously asked him, "A-And what might that be, dearie…?"

"You can let go, Miss Piggy; let go of the burden the past has placed on you, and find new meaning in this world— one that can recapture that "Faz-Spirit" you might have assumed was far behind you," Michael replied warmly— speaking from the heart, and finding comfort in his own words, as his eyes subtly turned toward the security feed of Fredbear holding up a child to lovingly embrace them in his strong, fuzzy arms.

"Learn from your experiences, but let go of the pain and heartache that it carries… Those feelings don't control you anymore— I promise you that much," Michael concluded, while feeling an invisible weight lifting from his shoulders.

It was then that Miss Piggy began shedding even more tears of cathartic joy, as she leapt up from the swivel chair to wrap her strong arms around Michael's waist. "T…! T-Thank you, dearie…! V-Vous don't have any idea how much moi needed to hear that…!" She said with a genuine appreciation for him in her voice— a voice that Michael, even in that tender moment, couldn't help but to crack a smile at.

"Of course, uh… I-It's what I'm here for," Michael said, while trying to still be supportive as the blond muppet sobbed into his tan vest. Letting her bury her soft, felt-face into his abdomen, Michael patted her awkwardly on the back, and waited until she had collected herself before looking down at her to meet her renewed gaze of determination.

"Now strike up the band, and show our customers what true entertainment looks like!" Michael said encouragingly, while swinging his fist down and upward near his chest— firing her up, as she wiped her eyes once more his tear-stained vest, before psyching herself up on the spot.

"Step aside, Fredbear— Mama's back to reclaim her throne!" Miss Piggy exclaimed with rejuvenated passion in her voice, before storming out excitedly to join the party room— determined to make families and friends alike out there smile and laugh at the ridiculous antics she was planning to improv with the goofy seven-foot tall animatronic.

Author's Note: I'm extremely excited to be able to write more chapters of this zanny little fanfiction, and even more importantly I'm happy to see that there's those who are still intrigued enough to read it!

Thank you for your review Zero! Your explanation of what usage Miss Piggy could bring to the table was certainly one that helped cement her place at the pizzeria. Plus, I mean, for a Muppet she isn't half-bad to look at, so her being Helpy's potential girlfriend certainly would be a service to him!

I might end up deleting this note later on, but for the time being, thank you for reading! And hope you have a good rest of your day!