31 years later: The laissez le bon temps rouler mall

"Mike." "Michael!" "MICHAELNGOLO!"

"AH! Oh, sorry!" A mall security officer stared into space until his boss snapped him out of it.

"Honestly, Michael, this was like, what, the third time this week?"

"What could I say? I'm not particularly fond of this time of year."

"Oh, you don't say. When you're on the job, you leave your emotional baggage at the door. One more space out like that, AND YOU FIRED!"

"Yes, boss."

The boss leaves Michael alone, and a few minutes later, Michael goes to a froyo line for his lunch break. "Can I get the usual, please?"

"Sure, let me-Oh, it's you," The cashier said apethetacly

"Look, I don't want to fight; I just need to get my break, ok?"

The cashier took Michael's order and talked to the staff, "One usual for him, please."

The staff registered who the cashier meant and reluctantly gave him his froyo. "Here. It's on the house."

"Really? Because I do have the money to"

"Pay us? With your blood money?" Michael is now seeing where this is going. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Now do all of us a favor, and get the fuck out of our booth. Your presence is bad for business."

Michael sits in a secluded booth, eating his froyo. He watches from a distance as he sees a boy by the fountain getting picked on by a teenager.

"Hey. Hey!" Michael then rushes to the teenager and continues to pick on the boy until he feels a fist colliding into his face

PUNCH!*

"Brother!" The boy yelled, getting the attention of Michael, who, for a moment, saw a familiar-looking crying child.

"Are you-" The boy ran to his parents, a mother and father. The mother hugs his little boy, The father rushes to his elder son, and Michael's boss marches towards him.

"MICHAEL, WHAT THE HELL!?"

"He was picking on that boy; I had to stop it!"

"BY PUNCHING HIM IN THE FACE!? ARE YOU CRAZY!?" The father helps up his elder son, who in turn rushes to tackle Micheal

SLAM!*

A fight then broke out between Michael and the brother of the boy he thought he was protecting.

The Career center

Michael is now sitting at the front desk of a wrinkled-skined, dark-colored shirt and a long-skirted, brunette spectacle woman reading a file about him.

"Tsk, tsk tsk," the woman shook her head

"What is your deal, Michael? Are you what they call a headcase?"

"It was a misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding? You, a grown man, assaulted a teenager in broad daylight. Because he was picking on his younger brother for having a crush on his teacher."

"He still shouldn't be picking on him, though."

"Oh, so you support age-gap relationships on that level?"

"Hell no!"

"Thought so. Hey, that rhymes. Do you write poems?"

"No, I draw pictures."

"Well, I'm drawing a line in the sand here, Michael, because according to your file, this isn't even the first time this has happened. Honestly, I have every right to throw you out of my office, Mr. Michael, Michael." Something caught her eye in Michael's file, and she leaned closer to get a good look at him. Michael was confused. "Can I get you coffee?"

"Me?"

"Well, who else am I talking to, the invisible man?"

"No?"

"Exactly." the woman then gets coffee for him. "I do have a job for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I believe that it will be perfect for you. You'll be your own, you'll be paid $20 per hour, rude employees or customers won't surround you, and all you have to do is keep people out. In short, you will be a night guard."

"Great. Where, though?" The woman then shows Michael a paper with the full job description. The iris in his eyes shrunk. "NO! N. O. NO!"

"Oh? And why's that?" The woman asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Michael failed to notice this due to his sweating bullets and trying to make a Deweyan excuse. "W-w-w-well, uhm." A lightbulb pops up above his head. "I can't do night shifts."

"On what account?"

"I have a mother who's in a mental hospital, and I always visit her every night because I'm the only family she has."

"The family you imploded?"

Michael went silent for a few seconds. "I pay for her fees."

"Does she know that, though?" Michael went silent again. "You get it now, Michael? I have everything about you in this file, and I was hoping you could take this position because otherwise, I'll have you go back to jail for the assault. You got me?"

"*gulp* I got you."

"Good. Now that you have considered your past, you'll receive a tour from our local town cop next Sunday night. She'll give you instructions on how to run things, and once everything is over, you'll start your shift the night after."

"Why can't I just start immediately?"

"Because I'll be quizzing you. At the moment, you can't be trusted for a job like this" "

sigh* Fine. Thanks anyway for the opportunity, Mrs. Uhm; I'm sorry, but I must ask. Is your name seriously Jennifer Jane?"

Michael read a desk name plate earlier, which said: Jennifer Jane. "Yep, that's me."

"But Jane is a first name, isn't it?" "You think that's odd? You should have heard my husband's name. As for mine, some people call me Jena Jane as an anagram joke because of it. Oh, and BTW, You might want to change your name."

"I can't. If I do that, then my mother will truly be alone."

"Fair enough, but you'll have better connections with me if you alter your identity just a bit."

"Ok, how about Mike Schmidt?"

Jane cringed at the lack of originality. "Sure, why not?"

"Well, in any case, thanks for the help, Jena Jane."

Michael leaves the office, and Jena mutters, 'Likewise, little Mikey.'

The mental hospital

Michael stops by the mental hospital and asks the doctors, ".How is she OC?"

"It's the same as always, Michael. It's a 24/7 Vlad and Clara marathon with the same poem she's been reciting for twenty years."

The two men stop by a room with a blonde woman staring at a TV screen showing a vampire and his blond girlfriend. Michael feels guilty every time she sees the woman. As the only person she has left regarding next to kin, he's the only one who can care for her.

"So where's my money?" Michael shows the doctor his last paycheck. "Hmm. I was expecting more than this."

"Well, I recently lost my job, so I don't have any pennies left."

"*sigh* Fine, I accept the pocket change. The next time you pay me, though, it will be the usual."

"Thank you so much, doc!"

As the two men left, the doctor asked, "Are you sure you don't want to tell her the source of her coverage?"

Michael turns back to the blond and shakes his head. "What difference does that make? I'm not a hero, and I could never be a hero."

As Michael leaves, the blonde utters four sentences under her breath: 'Why do you hide inside your walls? When there's music in my halls? All I see is an empty room. No more joy, an empty tomb.'

Michael's Apartment

Michael finally reached his apartment after a long, eventful day. He sees an eviction notice nailed onto a door with a spray-painted word "MURDERER!" on it. Walking inside, he sees his home as it always has been.—abaron mess. He is an ample mess, with little to no furniture, as most of his money either goes to the landlords or his sick mother. He lies on the bed and sees one ceiling, a picture of a boy, a baby girl, a man, and a woman above the hospital. The most noticeable aspect of the photograph is the cutout shape of what appears to be a teenager. Michael stretches his hand to the picture to grab it, but to no avail, as it's far out of reach. He sighed and had one thought before he had another restless sleep.

"Father. Sister. Where are you?"

Author's notes: This might be the most I can use from the movie for now. Those who watched it might have noticed a few differences, with the career counselor as the prime example. Let me make this clear, though. She is NOT a gender-inverted version of William Afton, and the purple man will make his appearance. I'll reveal him in time, but for now, stay tuned for the following chapters.