Remnant of Agony - (FNAF AU + Xovers)
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AN: The point of this story is a little What If involving William Afton having a brother and this guy becoming a Springtrap before William. Turns out the plot can change much and... other horror games will be addressed lik Poppy Playtime, Bendy and the Ink Machine, Indigo Park and much more.
There is something awful in waking up with the worst feeling possible. And I am not referring to sleep paralysis, or a stomach ache.
No, I am talking of that bone-crushing and mind-wrecking sensation that something is very wrong with your body - and you can feel all of it even when unconscious. I felt sore and tired, confused and yet very, very driven to break away from the pain. The stench was horrible, the darkness oppressing, but I could feel myself squeezing out of what felt like a squishy hell that was staining my whole self.
Slowly but surely, I kept on going until 'exhaustion'. I would just fall asleep, then wake up. Rinse and repeat as my mind had only this to follow to not properly die. I didn't feel hungry or thirsty, but I felt sick as I crawled my way out of the slimy path of trash bags that completely submerged me.
It didn't help that I couldn't feel my right arm - I couldn't move, I could feel it. But that didn't stop me. I had to fight, I had to live. And as the days passed and the months tagged along, I finally finally made it out.
And that insane nightmare passed... as a new one settled. I felt myself coughing, but what came out was something distorted by static...
Akin to a voice box. My good hand rushed to my throat- or what should have been my throat. But all I felt was... fabric. A familiar fabric that had been damaged by the humidity and the time. It was soggy, it was ruined. W-What is going on?
I felt my chest struggling to keep fine as I marched sluggishly to a nearby puddle of water. I was in a junkyard- the one back home. How? How did I... No. That wasn't important. I first needed to know what was going on with me. And as I finally reached the puddle, I felt my world crash on the spot.
It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It wasn't me. It was...
It was-
"Sparky the Dog. What a stupid name for a Mascot."
"Sure thing, Mr. Bonnie the Bunny."
My head hurt at that once pleasant memory, now a horrible remainder of what I was look at. Sparky was once a refined piece. My first step into a sector I had been secondary to until my brother's friend had suggested I could give it a shot. I had the mechanical notions well-grasped, and I had the right design for it. There were so many animals for the business, but... never a dog.
Sparky the Dog was meant to be an addition to Freddy and Bonnie at Fredbear, but then... then...
I paused, my head hurting as my trail of thoughts disrupted as I heard someone approaching. I tensed up, I heard a dog- a guard dog. Shit.
Without hesitation, I temporarily ignored my current situation. I couldn't be seen like this. Not now. I needed a safe space to think and... vent. And think more.
My body felt extremely slow, but I braved through the struggling and ultimately made it out of the junkyard itself. Not without a few close calls. It took me a glance behind at the yard to realize what had caused the panic. My slow crawling had caused a huge pile of trash to collapse as if an avalanche. The noise had stirred people awake, and it had made it seem as if someone had come to cause damage to the yard.
Luckily for me, I wasn't found or noticed. I just made it out of that and got into the nearby park. The place was the same as I remembered it to be... or maybe not. It felt different, older- we were all. No, it was not the park, it was me. It was the suit- it was my new body. I could tell somehow this was the case as I touched 'my chest'. I even felt the fabric of the blue overall as if they were part of my body.
...
What the fuck is going on?
I sat down on one of the available benches, drawing a lengthy sigh and then doing the one thing I had been taught by mom when in those situations: sit back, make a summary of your current situation, and then plan ahead on what has to be done.
First, my name is...
"My name is... Michael Gilbert Afton."
I paused, hissing at my own voice- Sparky's voice.
Still, my name is Michael G. Afton, I am the younger brother of William Afton. I remember having joined the company formed by my brother and his close friend and associate, Henry Emily Schmidt, as a mechanic. I remember having learned much under Henry about the Animatronics and robotics in general. I learned the basic steps, always lagging behind my brother's eager interest.
But I persisted, and I managed to get good at the process. Good enough that William and Henry agreed to let me create a third 'buddy' for the Fredbear Diner - Sparky. Another Springlock suit, another Animatronic. And then...
...
...
Then that happened.
First Cassidy died, William's youngest son. My little nephew. I... I should have known there was more between two brothers at odds. Him and his brother Mike being so antagonistic with each other and then the Bite of 83. I should have known that William had done something to cause this mess.
Then Charlotte, Henry's daughter, died too. A random case of murder. She had been left outside the pizzeria which had left her out of reach of the Puppet, Henry's own 'response' to prevent internal issues. He had given me copies of the animatronic design as I had been busy dealing with the legal mess that was Cassidy's death.
Charlotte's passing forced us to stop the business. At this point, I hadn't known William had been behind this. No, it would take the first few other murders in the Pizzeria for me to connect the dots. When little Susie went missing after I had seen many times stay by the arcade area of the pizzeria, I knew it had to have been someone in the staff.
But then reports came that someone wearing a 'Bonnie-like' costume had been caught luring kids away from the parents. I knew it was William, and I finally confronted me.
He broke down the moment I called him out on the matter. He sounded so honest, so regretful, so true. But I hadn't seen my true brother. No, I had to wait until a few more events occurred. Henry had enough of the Bonnie costume- hell, he had planned to remove Fredbear too out of genuine disgust at showing off a tool that had killed a child.
Sparky was meant to act as a replacement. I had the springsuit ready, the lines memorized, and even had Henry help me come up with some sing-songs to get in touch with the young customers. But the day I was meant to make my debut, William took the chance to strike.
An innocent 'prank'. He hurled water at me from a bucket. Cold water. It didn't look like much beyond a cruel joke. But I had been so focused on the job that I had forgotten how unsafe the springsuits were. The springlocks within reacted at the liquid, slipping out of their locks and suddenly snapping through my skin and my bones. I felt as if cold and yet burning pain had taken over any thought. I screamed and shouted. I begged William to help. But he stood there with the bucket. Amused. He watched me bleed out but...
I didn't die.
I remember the numbing experience of being put in his car's trunk, then dragged to a scrapper. In a rare moment of lucidity before losing it for so long, I managed to hurl myself out of the scrapped and onto the pile of trash that suddenly engulfed me for a very long time.
I lived, but... at what cost?
How the hell am I even alive?
I needed to speak with people - trustworthy people. Henry. He had to know what's going on. He was the genius of the trio, the guy with a vision that was purer than William's deranged dreams.
I had to find him.
What ensued was bizarre. I walked through town, initially trying to blend into the shadowy alleys, but soon being caught by some teens that-
"Dang, that looks so real?! What kind of cosplay is that?"
...What the hell is a cosplay?
I was puzzled to no end. The kids looked different than they used to be and they were using different cameras that were also phones?
As I wandered deeper into the city that once was my hometown, I realized a dreadful thing. I hadn't spent months in that junkyard.
Years. I had been put in that hell for years.
How the fuck could that have happened?
I had confirmation of this when I found the window on an electronics shop with simplified devices and some insane names far different than those I was accustomed to. It was 2024. It's been forty fucking years since I was truly alive.
Was- was Henry alive? William? What about... Mikey?
One step at a time.
I needed to find Henry. Or someone that took over for him. As I started to make my way to the old Schmidt manor, I was surprised by how changed this place was. And some other kids stopped me to ask if I was advertising the haunted pizzeria. I had ignored most of that, but I had a growing feeling that I may not be the only one that survived death in that place.
After a hour of slowly wandering, I finally got to the right address. And it looked abandoned. Was Henry dead? That would have been a terrible piece of news if not for the fact that the intercom beside the gates activated the moment I started to think if I should vault over the walls and give a thorough look.
"Hello, old friend."
It was Henry, but he sounded older. Tired. Deader.
"Henry- It's... it's me, Michael."
There was a pause, and I thought I had heard things and this wasn't real. I needed this to be real.
"How much do you owe me?"
I actually remember that. And I loathed that memory.
"I owe you nothing, you bespectacled wanker. I paid it off in more hard work in getting Chica and Foxy functional after your fuck-ups with Vodka."
There was an immediate laughter at that, followed by some worrisome coughing.
"Fair. I guess I can drop that grudge and... do close the door once you get in."
He unlocked the gates, and I passed through. After following his instructions, I was off to reach the old man. I had envisioned so many versions of this encounter in those few steps. And yet he looked even worse than my worst expectations.
Henry was bound to a wheelchair, wearing a jacket and a scarf. He had a warm cover over his leg and pure white hair and beard. He had lost all that blonde luster of his - the stress and despair having drained it all. A shell of a man that once dreamed a world of wonders for children. A modern Walt Disney. It never happened. Not with William there to clip his wings.
"Took you long enough to tag along for the fun, Michael."
"The junkyard was... an ugly experience. William?"
"Dead, but alive. Just like you."
"How?"
"Springsuit."
Of course. How poetic.
"Anyone else?"
"Your nephew lives. Mike is... a bit of a zombie," Henry remarked, and I left these questions for later. "You need that arm patched up."
"I know that-"
"And I need you to work for me at the Pizzeria. One last time- to rally them all."
"...What?"
Why do I feel another headache is abound?
AN
This is set a few months before Pizzeria Simulator. Mike Snr. takes on the role of assistant for Henry and Mike Jr. and... next time will see the events of Pizzeria Simulator from a rather ironic blend of perspectives.
