I Don't Own Fnaf
Something was wrong.
It was getting hard to think, Mike ignored it, he knew how to fight off the effects of blood loss, he wasn't even that cold yet, and as long as he didn't jostle the massive metal spike jammed in his side too harshly, there was a good chance he could keep it in there for a while before he had to actually worry about bleeding out. Soldiers, criminals, and EMTs, those were the people you'd want to be by your side when you're hurt out in the middle of nowhere. Because they're the ones who knew how to handle an injury with what they had on hand. Soldiers because they had no choice in the field, EMTs because they were trained to work with what was at hand in case of emergency, and criminals because going to the hospital was a great way to get arrested.
Feel free to take a guess at which method Mike learned from? Don't remove a stab wound, it'll just make you bleed out faster, he learned that after a very close call when he was twenty, he learned how to wrap a wound when he was twenty-one, he had to do it to himself a few months later, when he was twenty-two he learned what happens if you wrapped something not tight enough. At twenty-four, sitting in a chair, his vision blurring in and out, his mind foggy and uncertain, he knew he had tied it tight enough.
And yet it was hard to think, his hands were shaking too much even though he was as calm as he could possibly be given the situation, his pulse wasn't right, it spiked in moments where nothing was happening.
Something was wrong.
It was hard to think, his lungs felt tight, he couldn't quite remember just what he was trying to do, why he was here, it didn't connect, like something was just out of his reach just beyond his direct sight, but all he could do was work with what was in front of him.
The controls, the doors, the vent, the threat. He could focus on them, keep it out, keep himself safe, it was like he was in a fog of nothing, the only thing that existed was him, in this office, and the doors to either side, the faint pattering that seemed to echo more in his head than in reality from the vent, the sounds of the buttons being smashed. For moments he could swear the doors were already closed, that the thing, the thing that had hurt him, even though it was hard to focus on his own body, the only reason he wasn't moving as much was the screaming in the void to himself about his injuries, was gone, but then it was there again, he heard something that had to be there, and the doors weren't closed, so he had to move to close them.
It hurt, but the pain was the only thing that didn't feel like... Nothing else felt right, his thoughts should have been faster, he was always quick wasn't he? Why couldn't he figure out why he was here?
Something was wrong.
He was forgetting something, someone maybe? He was forgetting a lot of things, stuff blurred in his mind and it was hard to keep track of it, but he knew it was important, whatever it was. He could have sworn more things were joining the monster outside, the thing out there that had impaled him. Weird little things, others that were too big, too many teeth, nightmares if he had to put a word to it, but putting words to things took too much effort, reacting was all he could do. His side screamed at him, it still didn't feel right.
But it was real. There wasn't any fog with that pain, Mike couldn't trust his eyes, he knew that, he couldn't trust his ears, he couldn't trust in anything, because nothing was real beyond that pain. Something was wrong, and Mike couldn't tell what, and that... That scared him, he could feel the way his own heart raced, it had been hard to tell at first as to just why, but he knew why, he was scared, he was beyond scared. He had never had to doubt himself before.
There had been moments, faint ones, where he hadn't been sure if he could trust his own mind, back then, when he first learned of the existence of spirits bound to metal, where he hadn't been sure if his mind hadn't just finally gone, but he hadn't let that fear sink in, hadn't allowed it to. If he couldn't trust his mind, then he couldn't trust anything, so he trusted himself and pushed through anyway.
He couldn't do that now, his mind was wrong, those monsters couldn't exist, even if he was too scared, his mind not strong enough to resist, slamming the buttons at either side, he knew this couldn't be real, and so he was stuck. Unsure of anything but the knowledge he was slowly dying, knowing that pain in his side was slowly growing, knowing the chill he was feeling was ever growing to embrace him to his death.
The only thing he knew was real was that he was going to die soon. And that thought was scarier than it had been for him in years.
Michael had always been a fairly collected person, when you discounted his anger issues which only were issues in most recent years when he finally bottled over the top of his temper, being calm and cool had kept him alive this long, even when he hadn't been all that interested in staying that way. His instincts as well sorely ever actually misled him.
Intuition was apparently what it was called, he remembered that from his time in prison, an older man he had been almost friends with told him about it when he had been taught cards. He had a sharp intuition. Even without particular reasoning or lack of proof, he could fairly easily connect dots and then make them work out backwards from there when he needed to give proof. It's what made him realize just who was in Golden Fredbear, what had led him to his discovery of the other ghosts at Freddy's, his understanding of the dangers of code, of Shadow Bonnie.
It was what was he was left with, slowly nudging him, the sharp pain in his side giving, if only for a moment, faint reliefs of knowing this was wrong, of knowing something was off, of that logic that he was missing something, he was forgetting something, something he needed to remember. Pain was an anchor to reality, one Michael hadn't ever liked, he had never gotten into the self harm part of depression, a small mercy, but one he understood, conceptually, what it could do, the things it released in the brain, the focus it could give through a concentrated burst of adrenaline. Even if all that knowledge was just floating smoke within the fog of his mind, it was still there, dots to be pointed back too later when he needed to prove his actions to another person.
So, yeah, Michael was a fairly collected person, but at the same time, he was just as much impulsive, and more than that, in this moment in particular, he had fear he wasn't used to, and a faint impulse of how to get out of it. Of how to break the cycle that his body and mind was too terrified of the risks of to escape. If pain could give him more clarity, to make him remember what he was forgetting, who he was forgetting, then well... Michael Afton was more than used to dealing with pain, what was a bit more?
He couldn't quite bring himself to not close the constantly changing doors as the monsters in his head approached...
But he could quite easily reach down, grabbing onto the almost handle of the claw dug deep inside his guts, and give a yank.
Mike knew what to expect, but he hadn't expected it to hurt as badly as it did, even half slumped into the seat, he collapsed onto the desk itself, as his entire body spasmed as agony rolled over him, his brain almost overwhelmed by the feeling of it pulsing throughout every inch of his form it felt like, but it was with that gasp of pain, that almost unbearable searing heat and the unexpected chill that followed, that Mike remembered.
If there was one emotion in this life that Mike knew to fear, it was anger, it was the one that could bubble up and suppress all others, it was one he was scared of allowing himself... In that moment, in that faint haze of pain as he managed to stare ahead at the monitors as the monsters grew closer, his eyes barely focused, he could let himself feel that anger.
Because he could remember who he had come with, and who he had yet to see.
Something had happened to Marionette, and Mike simply couldn't handle any more fear... So he turned to anger, even as the figures at the monitors moved to be at the door, nothing happened, even as he swore his brain knew something was there, just outside his vision, he didn't budge, he waited, and waited, and was ready, ready more than ever... but nothing happened..
So he kept waiting, the nerves and energy building in his chest, the fear fading faster and faster, like it shouldn't have ever been there in the first place.
It was like he could breathe, as the sounds of footfalls around him fading away, the aching paranoia that had been blistering in the back of his mind fading away... His mind... It was his again. Even with the anger broiling under the surface, the fear still present for his puppet, and the pain of his side, could not hold back the relief that came from knowing that once more, his thoughts were his own, as he looked around the suddenly unfamiliar office. It... The walls seemed bigger, the place less... pressing.
It was just a room, there were no monsters... It was just him. His eyes blinked, heavy in his head, though he was uncertain from the strain from the... phantoms he had been warding away, or from the deep tiredness that was pushing further and further to the surface, slowly getting harder and harder to avoid, as his eyes strayed to the clock resting on the wall.
"W-what?" Nine minutes...
It had only been nine minutes.
Something was wrong, but Mike could handle that later, as his eyes focused back to the monitors that were now flicking static when the faint echoing sounds of a chittering kind of laughter filled the air as Mike's eyes twitched as on the screens appeared the face of some kind of foxy model. Before that flickered out as well, the monitors seemingly dying as Mike just blinked slowly to himself before slowly leaning down, placing his hands onto the desk... Before gritting his teeth to hold in a scream of rage, before moving off. He had to get to Marionette, everything else could wait.
Though, he paused one last time as his eyes strayed to the side to something that was covered by a shelf nearby... A fireman's axe in a glass case almost completely covered, out of sight and out of mind to anyone else. He didn't even think twice about grabbing it.
Marionette was panicking, but he couldn't let himself panic, not as he watched as Mike fled away, stumbling over himself, trailing flecks of blood leading his path as he turned a corner through the doorway and vanished from sight. The amalgam was hot on his tail however, and Marionette couldn't have that, as with the sound of his music blaring in the air, he pounced forwards.
The ennards of the animatronic mess of wires wasn't as big as one would suspect, the group of bots, all mixed together and bound into one mass, was much smaller than most people would have thought. Their body was slender and short, around the same height as Fritz. The way wires hung off their form made them seem bigger than they really were, but... But they couldn't be too big, or less how would they fit in a person? It was with that repulsive thought as Marionette's form slammed into the animatronic bundle of wires, as the two quickly found themselves tangling around each other.
Metal strings releasing from the puppet's wrists and shoulders to try and grapple onto the metal monster and bring it to the floor, while for the ennards, their loose wires shot around like whips, lashing every which way, smashing into the puppet's thin body as Marionette could only double down and try even harder to pull the animatronic to t he ground, as he pulled back harshly, feeling his strings trying to latch onto the sides of the wires, only for them to move and shift out of the way of his strings, making it almost impossible to truly get a grip on the instantly shifting and molting form of Ennard.
Marionette wasn't the same way, even as he moved and shifted floating backwards to gain distance, it was clear that Ennard was quickly getting tired of their row, as the machine of wires spun around, the faint crackling of noise flaring through their form as the sound of what sounded like two different voices, spoke up.
"Why do you protect him? Do you know what he's done?" Marionette was quickly getting about as fed up as Mike was with this whole, mistaken identity thing. Was the purple thing really that big of a deal?! Were they all like this once upon a time? Because if so, he and the others had a lot of people they really should apologize to.
"He's not that man! He's done nothing and I won't let you hurt him!" The puppet just let out a sharp discontent chime as he vanished and reappeared over the other animatronic, his strings shooting down to try and worm their way into the cracks of the wires to find something more solid underneath them, they had to have some kind of proper endo underneath all of it right?
Wrong, he felt himself let out a chime of surprise as a thick hand made of wires reached up and grabbed tightly over the wires digging into what felt like nothing of a shoulder, and with a sharp yank his string were pulled away and held tightly within the grip of the animatronic before he was yanked on harshly through the strings, pulling him like a whip straight forwards right at the animatronic who's other hand shot up in a tight, woven, fist.
Marionette was out of practice, well out of practice, he should have been able to move out of the way, but instead he just felt something deep in his chest crunch painfully, in a way that was nearly overwhelming, as he was bent over in half by the metal fist, before dropping to the ground like a ragdoll, or rather, like a puppet with his strings cut. Ennard moved away, but Marionette wasn't done, he never could do enough. It felt like, he could only give a gift after he was too late to save them, he never could save them. He refused to be unable to save Mike.
Floating was a bit harder than it had been moments before, it had been a long time since something in him was broken or damaged, but he had dealt with worse, as he shot through the air, Ennard hadn't been expecting it, as he shot forwards, his hands grabbing onto the the other's two shoulders, using his natural strength and the force of his momentum to flip over head of Ennard, and then bringing them both straight down with a harsh and resounding thrashing crash, Marionette keeping himself from the impact at the last second as he flicked away and reappeared straightened back in the air as Ennard's body hit the ground.
Marionette didn't think twice about shooting down and wrapping his strings under the plates of the mask, hoping to find something important to hurt or damage to try and find a way to disable the animatronic, when a fist shot up slamming across the puppet's face.
The sound of cracking porcelain echoed through the air as with a warbling pained sound, Marionette half fell over as another hand reached out and grabbed tightly around his form, dragging him up as Ennard continued to move to the doorway, seemingly deciding to keep the puppet on hand to keep him from being able to attack again. The arm around the thin body of the puppet was tight, if he had the strength it wouldn't have mattered, it would have been simple to simply vanish and reappear. Maybe if he had the strength still, he could have gotten himself out of this, but he didn't, and even if he had, he wouldn't.
That was the thing, people saw animatronics and thought they were unbeatable, that wasn't true, they had strength that a human couldn't have, a durability and determination most lacked, and being made of metal made them very hard to fight... But animatronics at the end of the day were just as fragile as any other if you knew what you were doing. The puppet didn't even have most of that going for him, none of them had been made to fight, but only the marionette was as fragile as he was, the others were so much more durable.
He had never truly resented what he was, not really, not until this moment, as his body was limply carried along, his arms, not really made to move on their own without strings, trying to tightly to push against the metal wires of his attacker, anything to just buy more time, but it felt useless as they passed through the door with deceptively quiet footfalls and silent steps that could barely so much as echo down the mostly empty halls, and as such could only hope that Mike had managed to escape.
He still let out a pained chime, his chest squeezing and he felt something deep in his body creak in pain at the action, but he needed to let the man know something was wrong, that they were on their way. It was the only thing he could do, because anything else left him hopeless, the idea that something had happened, that he had taken too much time, that Mike had... A pained sharp chime pierced the air one last time as he slumped unwittingly into the wired hold, pain and code rushing through his already swimming head.
Give Gifts, Give Life...
It was getting harder to ignore, the panic welling in his chest as they drew closer and closer, Ennard not slowly in their steps, like they knew exactly where to go. He couldn't do anything about it even if he wanted to, not now, but the desire, the need, the overwhelming urge to save those already lost. Mike couldn't be lost. He wasn't sure he could handle it if that was the case.
It was for that reason the dread and the hope in his chest fought a violent war at the gasping sound call out from somewhere in front of him, in a place he couldn't see, his body faced down to stare at the mockingly familiar tiles of checkered black and white, just like Freddy's, just like the place where he could never save anyone fast enough.
"M-Mari! Marionette! Where are you!" Marionette tried his best to call back, but the arm wrapped around his body tightened so sharply all he could do was let out a pained chime as with a cold pain and panic, the puppet listened to his own voice call out from the monster carrying him to his love's death.
"I- I'm here! Michael! Where are you?" In spite of himself, he had to admit the voice was almost perfect... But he felt a small tinge of pride in Mike as the man called back instantly, his voice sharpening in a way the puppet, unable to do anything else, had never quite heard before. It was dangerous.
"Who are you? Where's Mari?" The puppet felt a faint shiver of something rush through his body, he knew the man, knew Mike better than he sometimes felt like he knew himself, especially in recent nights, he had heard the man a faint few times when the man was close to losing it. It made him worry, Mike needed to leave, needed to escape here, Marionette could get out fine later, but an impulsive Mike? The puppet couldn't live with himself if the man died.
"It's me! I got away! We need to get out of here, quickly, come out!" Mike didn't answer, Ennard had stopped moving, Marionette tried to squirm and move again, it hurt, but he had to at least try, not even the man was so close, not when he could do something. Save him.
Give Gifts, Give Life.
"I'm here" Marionette wanted to scream, to yell at the man to run, to stop being an idiot, but all that came was a pained weak note of sound that sounded pathetic to his own hearing, as he managed to lift his head up, just in time to watch as the man slowly slumped out of a nearby doorway. Something was in his hands, but it was hidden by his back, but that wasn't what Marionette's limited focus was on, no, it was the paled and almost ashen white color to Mike's skin, the sweat that was dripping down his brow, his chest heaving like he had just run a marathon.
The burning bright purple stained across his face, hands, and now exposed arms.
The look of worry on his face, only there, just for a second, before his eyes flickered down to see the state of the puppet. Something Marionette wanted Mike to never have seen, to see him like this, so powerless and helpless when he should have been able to do something, to protect the other man, to save-
Give Gifts, Give Life.
And then Marionette saw the worry shift, the puppet could only watch the way Mike's face morphed into something dark, the way his lips trembled as they were pulled back into something closer to a snarl, the danger searing itself into the man's normally warm dark blue eyes making them burning in a way that would have made anyone flinch to be on the receiving end of such a look. He could see the way the entire man's body tensed and coiled in on itself as he lowered his stance, like he was about to charge. It made the puppet unwittingly, with his stray thoughts being as much of a mess as they were, recall a documentary he had watched with Mike, about cornered animals.
Marionette wanted to scream at him to run, Ennard beat him to it, as in his own voice, the amalgam spoke.
"A familiar look, you must quite care about this little project... It's too bad we broke it isn't it?" Marionette felt himself spasm in pain as the arm tightened suddenly, the way that the wires broke apart and wrapped around his chest in both directions and squeezed. The sounds of discorded and fraying chords filled the air as the puppet's vision nearly whited out in pain.
And then the sound of a scream filled the air that wasn't the puppet's.
Marionette felt his body crash to the ground as he curled up just for a moment in agony, before pulling himself up just to see what had happened. What he saw was the last thing he had expected.
Mike had moved, the man was standing just to the side of where Marionette had crashed to the ground, his arms barring down tightly on an object, an axe, which had carved deeply into the shoulder of the arm that had been carrying Marionette. Portions of wires that had been fully severed were resting over the puppet as Ennard, the one who had screamed, reared back, a loud shrieking sound broken by a painfully sharp static ripped through the air, it seemed like, just for a moment, the animatronic was about to try and say something, or perhaps try and attack.
Mike didn't give the animatronic the chance, as with a grunt of sound being the only warning, in one moment he had ripped the axe out and in the next, it was slashed straight across Ennard's chest, wires separating and causing the two new ends to flail about as the animatronic that had been trying it's best to kill the both of them stepped back. The mask they wore never changed, not like Marionette's now cracked and broken face, but the puppet was sure they were scared.
It would be hard not to be with the look of absolute rage stained purple over the normally calm face of Mike. Marionette had never seen such an expression, it scared him more than he wanted to admit as he watched as Ennard stumbled back and Mike stalked forwards, the axe already held over his head, like he was going to try and cleave the animatronic in twain. Ennard managed just barely to get out of the way of losing at least something important, even though the much-to-sharp blade still left a sharp slicing arc through the front of the machine's body, snagging the strange red button thing at the base of their neck.
The animatronic let out a long painful sound as their hands shot up, the right one slower and less steady than the left, over the strange thing as it seemed the hit had managed to knock more than just the wires around the item loose, as Ennard seemingly manually tightened the now identified cog to keep their body from falling apart right away as it continued to try and gain distance away from the man.
Mike didn't give the thing in front of him even the idea of a chance to breathe, he didn't think, he didn't bother with saying anything, there wasn't a point, not only did the idea of having a coherent enough thought beyond the overwhelming rage a pipe dream, there wasn't a point in saying anything to something that was about to be dead.
He didn't think, he didn't need to, Mike was good at hurting people. There was a reason that people feared those bigger than them, it wasn't because of more muscle, it was the arms. Long arms meant everything in a fight, Mike was a big target, but that didn't mean anything if a person couldn't get close to him without being hit and hit hard to put them back away just to repeat the process. With an axe that basically doubled his reach? The thing of wires that had hurt his puppet would lose it's head if it tried to get close, it was a smart fool.
By the time it managed to turn to flee, Mike's axe had sliced deep into it's turned back, causing it to stumble and rush away, Mike just moved after it, as the two moved through winding tunnels, the sound of screeching metals as it tried to flee didn't matter to him, he just kept moving, until finally the thing rushed back into Funtime Auditorium.
He didn't even think as he watched as it seemed having room to move seemed to give the thing confidence as it spun around and shot forwards just as he moved into the room itself. Mike just stepped to the side, his foot going up and coming down hard onto the thing's leg. It was a mistake, it wasn't a person, the hit that would have broken a man's leg, only had the wires stretching and wrapping around the limb as he just gritted his teeth, the problem with reach, if they did get close, it was a pain.
Mike just grunted, his hand shooting forwards in the same moment he felt a painful slam crash into his chest that nearly sent his body snapping back, but Mike just took it as his hand shot over, gripping tight onto the strange cog, and ripped. The strange thing had an incredible amount of tension on it, but Mike didn't care as his hand shot up and using the small room he had to slam the axe head at the underside. The wires gave way with ease, as Mike stared straight ahead, into the eyes of the mask in front of him, as the animatronic let out another shout but it was too late for it.
Something had to keep the pile of sentient wires coiled and tightened together, and it seemed that Mike had just destroyed it, as he watched as the thing broke apart and untangled before his eyes, as he stepped out with a faint limp from the searing bruises that were no doubt beginning to form over his calf. Stepping out of the pile of wires, now trying to writhe and wriggle away like a snake, Mike just hefted the axe up and slammed it down, once, twice, three times.
Each time more and more wires were separated fully from the main mass, until he lifted the blade up one last time, hefted it over his head, ready to bring it down at the last main portion of the thing remaining, the upper body where only the head remained fully unscathed. Just as his axe was ready to come down straight at the thing's mask, a faint broken chime broke his thoughts as a familiar voice snapped through his ears and sliced through just enough anger to give him pause.
"M-Mike! Stop Mike!" Mike froze, just for a second, his eyes unwittingly moving up at the sound of the voice to the doorway to the hell he had just experienced, as he saw the puppet, half holding onto the doorway, staring out at the man. Mike just stared, taking in the puppet's full appearance. His chest wasn't the right shape, there were clear parts that were bent inward to show the metal underneath had been crushed, and his mask... It was damaged, a long painful crack ran over it with splintering marks coming off of the main line of damage.
The fire in the man's chest didn't quell, this wasn't some moment where seeing someone he cared about hurt made him snap out of his wrath, because to think that would be a gross misunderstanding of just how protective and more importantly, how angry Michael Afton was as a person.
The simmering rage hidden poorly just below the surface had grown out of control when he had seen Marionette in Ennard's grasp, but seeing how the damage that had truly been done to the puppet, he couldn't hold back the snarl that tore through his throat as he looked down at the thing at his feet, the axe, shaking in his hand for so many reasons, was brought back up higher than before.
And he swung.
The impact he felt wasn't the one of the recoiling force pushing up from where the axe struck. The axe hadn't struck anything at all, no, instead he felt pain scream itself out from his chest at the same time as he saw the familiar flickering of Marionette's form now appearing between the two, the puppet's face instantly crumpling up in near agony at the effort of something that should have been painless and easy, as he half fell into the man's chest, even as his arms came up to grab onto Mike's the effort buckling the puppet into Mike's chest further, right over where Ennard had slammed it's fist into him.
The axe only just halted enough that it's own weight and Mike's body screaming too loud for the anger to ignore had the blade simply being left resting in his hand, pointed down at the ground as he felt two familiar arms wrap around him, even as he felt the trembling coming from the puppet's body, be it pain or fear, it didn't matter. Anger wasn't some fog he got lost in, it was a crashing, overwhelming, and almost unfightable current of a river.
"Please Mike" He had never heard the puppet so desperate, so scared.
The hug, those words, it was like being ripped from that river unceremoniously and left to sputter and fight to get air back in his lungs. It was like he couldn't breathe, and Mike wasn't sure if it was from the pain shooting through his body, now in his upper chest as well as his side and newly bruising limbs, or from the sudden crushing weight of his own actions. The sound of metal clanking to the ground felt more like a gunshot with how quiet the room had become, as the axe slid from his hands and smacked heavily onto the floor.
"I-I" Mike didn't know what he was going to say, if he had anything to say, but it didn't matter, because whatever he could have said was interrupted by the crushing exhaustion that hit the second the adrenaline and anger had started to fade. He stumbled before he could help it, the puppet's body which he had been supporting without really meaning to quickly became the thing that he was holding onto to keep himself up right. Marionette hadn't expected it, nor was in any condition to handle the weight as the puppet buckled under Mike's not small body.
Before the two managed to fall over they awkwardly managed to find some semblance of balance.
"Let's just get out of here" Mike could only manage a nod, a faint wheeze coming from his chest as the two began to move, half supporting each other, as Mike only managed to turn and stare down at the pile of wires, watching as it-... As they, with their barely stable form, writhed and jerked away from his stare.
It made something twist tight in his chest, and considering he was already impaled through the gut and the shattered ribs, given just how hard it was to breath, said something that it was somehow more heavy a weight than either...
Thinking of the impaling though... He was shaking, and as they walked, with his head still turned, he blinked his set of heavy eyes, as he noticed just for the first time truly how cold he was, how numb he had been feeling past the spikes of pain with every movement. The trail of red that he was leaving. Mike had been too angry to remember the need to not jostle the massive metal claw extending itself into his right side...
The adrenaline had now fully gone away and...Oh... Oh shit there was a fucking metal claw stabbing through his body.
He forced his breathing to keep even somewhat steady though it was a quickly losing battle as his already heaving eyes got heavier and heavier, every step made his body sink just a bit more into Mari's to keep himself upright... He had lost too much blood, he had lost a lot of blood. How long had it been since he had been stabbed? Had to be at least twenty minutes right? It was probably a miracle he was still alive.
A small creeping voice in the back of his mind whispered about how fitting it was that it was his temper that would get him killed, out of everything it could be and could have been, it was that one thing that always destroyed the people around him that would be his own end.
"H-hey... Marionette" The puppet was struggling, he could see it, feel it even, the almost rhythmic ticking and thrums of machinery that he was so used to feeling through the body of the puppet when they were close wasn't the same, it stuttered, the faint sounds of creaking metal, the crackling of the puppet's speaker. The animatronic was hurt, but he could be fixed, Mike... Mike didn't want this to be how this ended, dread and fear slowly building up, even as gathered the nerve to speak, "I'm sorry" It took a second for the puppet to gather the energy to speak, as they finally made it to the vent way... Mike knew he wouldn't be able to get through it.
"It's fine Mike" He just shook his head limply as he half fell more than moved to sit down, onto the ground.
"N-No... I-... I never wanted you to see me like that. I never wanted to be like that again"
"I'm just glad it's over" The puppet sounded scared, worried, Mike felt horrible, the guilt was pushing past the pain, but he kept speaking, he needed Marionette to know.
"No Mari, I... I've tried so hard, and I've managed, but I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry I brought us down here, I'm sorry" For so much, Mike was just... sorry. Mari just kept speaking, even as he helped Mike pointlessly lay down, onto his good side, to try and get through the vents. The idea of it made his chest squeeze in another way, he had never really thought about being claustrophobic before, but the idea of dying in the vent almost made him want to just stop the puppet, but he couldn't, so he just listened.
"It's fine Mike, we'll be fine, Fritz will fix me up good as new and you'll be back up before you know it" The tinge of desperation wasn't lost on the man, he could only manage to hum at the thought, it was a nice one, he decided to hold onto it. He had always been a pessimistic person... Maybe just this once he could try out being an optimist.
Michael was so cold.
"Yeah... We should do something then" The puppet let out a pained chime, it was clearly an attempt to sound normal, the sound came out too sharp, Mike ignored it.
"L-like what Mike?" He wanted to shrug, he had never really noticed before just how much he used body language before now, as the puppet managed to get himself into the vent, the faint bumping behind him made something in the back of his head itch in panic, but it was just Mari, and he just didn't have the energy, so he just spoke back, his voice was getting fainter.
"N-Not sure... Maybe take a trip somewhere, I haven't really gone on any trips since I was a kid" He could feel the way the puppet's hands lightly moved to grasp under his arms, probably to pull him... He really was going to die in the vent... He really didn't want to die in a vent.
Michael didn't want to die.
"That... That sounds nice Mike, maybe we can soo-" Mike couldn't help it, he spoke before he lost the rest of his energy.
"I love you" The sound of instinctive warbles came and went, it echoed strangely off the metal walls, Mike wasn't done, he needed Marionette to know this. He had been told so many times by the puppet, but... He hadn't been ready, and now he didn't get the chance, "I love you so much Mari. I never thought I'd ever get someone like you, I never thought there would be anyone I could care so much about so easily. You make it so easy Net, I-... I'm going to regret not being able to let you know that, everyday, at every chance"
He was so tired...
He could hear the puppet trying to say something, but he had been fading out for a while now, in and out, just for moments, but he knew it, knew for a fact, that he was reaching the end. It was scary, Mike hadn't thought of his death as something to be scared of in a long time, it made it so much worse.
Michael really wanted to live.
He faded out before he could make sense of whatever the puppet was saying, his last regret, it seemed, not hearing his boyfriend's last words.
Unable to hear the sounds of a familiar but distorted tune, nor the pained chimes of anguish...
And certainly not the loss of control.
GIVE GIFT'S, GIVE LIFE
Oof... RIP Michael, he will be missed. Been a while since we had one of these.
No, seriously though... This one, this one was rough, I think this is the longest time I've spent on a chapter of this story, the last two weeks of my life has been wrapped up in the on and off again uncertainty of what I was writing. I hope this hit every note I wanted it to, but I'm too far in the weeds to really have an objective opinion about it.
Still, there is so much to say about this, all of it, given the last few end notes have been a bit... sparse. I'm honestly not sure just where to start to be honest.
The beginning of the chapter would be the best spot I guess, I bet it was pretty confusing, it'll be explained in detail, but it's also actually canon to the SL location as well if you dig deep enough into obscure fnaf lore so that's cool, it was mostly just to keep Mike out of the way for a while to build up the suspension and add to the element of unknown that needs to be looked into later.
Then there's the fight scenes... I wanted Marionette to do better against Ennard, and he did fairly well all things considered at the disadvantages he was at. Because at the end of the day, sure the animatronics are big and scary... But being real here, I've seen the pictures of the bots used in the fnaf movie. I could drop kick any of them, living or not. They simply weren't ever made for a fight proper, sure they are insanely dangerous, but inherently not made to be killing machines... Very much unlike Ennard, who's whole goal and reason to come into existence was to kill.
Also, yes, Ennard is a fair bit shorter and skinnier than I bet a lot of people would assume, but, also, like, people don't have a lot of storage space, there is no way any of the Funtimes could fit in a normal person by themselves, much less merged together unless they did a lot of slimming. One of the biggest debates I had honestly, was if I wanted the Funtimes to be here or for Ennard to already exist, obviously my answer was the latter, but that's cause it adds a level of drama to it and a more direct antagonist for this little section. Plus, after the first fifty chapters, there is no way in hell Mike would actually fall for believing the Funtimes weren't alive if he spent any time around them for example, let alone everyone else, so this just works out better than the Funtimes being moved to the Cove and play the long game where the people reading knew exactly what was going to happen there, there would be tension for sure, but no real mystery just waiting for things to hit the fan, which I didn't want.
And then... there's Mike and his temper. I hope I painted it well enough, I didn't use many words to describe what the man was feeling, because he wasn't thinking about what he was feeling, he wasn't doing anything but just acting. No thoughts, only lost in his anger, and he nearly killed someone. Mike would have killed Ennard, end of story, if Marionette wasn't there to actively force him to stop. There is a very good reason Mike fears his own anger, and I hope this showed a good reason as to just why he does his best to stay calm at all times. Because when he loses it, well... Hail have no fury like an Afton's wrath. Because, even when half dead and half out of his mind, Mike is not someone to fuck with when everything is down and out and he's not looking to take the pacifist method of handling his problems.
I'm sure I could keep going and going, but I'm going to leave it off here, while I wonder if this chapter is nearly as good as it could have been for how long I've been thinking about how to write it leading up to it. See ya!
