A/N: Many of you have noticed, I'm sure, that there are two of the exact same story here on of this. That is because that was my past account, an account that I was unfortunately logged out of. *cough* I forgot my password *cough*
ANYhoodles- were back in business! I'm so exited!
Michael hoped with all of his being- or, at least, what was left of it under his illusion disc- that he and Henry knew what they were doing.
He, understandably, did not want to go back to Sister Location.
Especially after Henry was told that it had burned down under 'mysterious circumstances'.
That was the only way that officials and the press could explain anything connected to the Fazbear Cooperation these days.
Michael knew that there wasn't anything mysterious about it, though.
At least, he knew that It was too in touch with everything going on to be coincidental.
Maybe Circus Baby or Ennard started the fire.
But, how? He didn't recall any flames being ignited...
Everything that happened that night was a blur- like trying to remember an old horror movie that you couldn't lay a finger on when asked about the plot.
All thoughts, feelings, and reactions- all second-hand and connected to what was thought of as surreal events. Just a scene in a movie that you watched ages ago.
Long forgotten in detail, but remembered in a nagging after-thought that wouldn't go away.
Too realistic for fantasy, yet too insanely far fetched to fit into reality.
...Bits and pieces...It's time to burn.
That was what came to mind when Michael tried to remember what exactly happened.
As if it were a clue that he had to piece together with other fractured pieces that his mind cope-aesthetically shattered to keep him as sane as he could be after that trauma.
Heck, they were only snippets of a conversation- one he didn't remember ever happening.
A cracly, disembodied voice that seemed to be echoing all around him.
It seemed to be coming from him.
But, why did he remember those exact words?
He didn't know if it was because he remembered bits and pieces of that night or because...
Another blank space.
Michael sighed with agitation. Maybe if he had kept ennard around, they would remember more? No, that endoskeleton probably only cared about themself.
That much was pretty clear when Ennard all but skipped away from Michael when they had what they wanted. Freedom.
Not that he blamed them for it. Too much, at least.
But, Circus Baby would have helped him- right? She was there- they spoke in her voice.
Though, Circus Baby's motives were always unreadable. Her intentions and faith? Unreliable, to say the least.
And, Circus Baby did say before that Ennard could manipulate and imitate all of the Funtime"s voices and actions.
"This family is intertwined, not by blood, but by wires and relations that hold stronger than roots.
As odd as it may seem, I'm doing this for them."
Not the most cuddly-sounding family, to say the least. And, not the best way to help your dead family, but...It was their world, not his.
Their world of messed up circumstances, painful truths, and buried lies.
A world of twisted fantasy and demented designes,
A world that he was unsuspectingly dragged into ages ago, only for it to catch up with him just now.
He shook his head and looked up, noticing that Henry was looking at him in question.
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked. Michael blew his bangs out of his eyes. A habit that he developed when he was agitated or stressed.
"I was wondering If you're sure that we could find her." He repeated, squinting his eyes in a concerned expression that seemed all too familiar with the current events going on.
"She may have burned past recognition in the fire."
Michael had thought so too. But, he'd find a way. "I'm sure that It'll work out. If she catches sight of me, she'll definitely make sure that I give her attention and help her. She's always been needy.."
If there was something that Elizabeth could never get enough of, it was attention. That much hadn't changed.
Ballora would be easier to discern. Though, Circus Baby was much more fragile.
Michael bent down next to his murky green duffel bag and rummaged through it, quadruple-checking if he had everything he needed if they found the two robots.
"Socket wrench, pair of pliers, paint, electric screwdriver..." He muttered, racking his brain for anything else that he needed among the dozen other supplies stuffed to the point of bursting his bag. "The illusion discs, too."
Henry pointedly glanced down at the apartment complex down the street and rolled his eyes. "Your home is only seven minutes away if you've forgotten anything- though, I'm pretty sure you didn't. Your father is thorough, y'know."
Michael groaned. If Michael was being honest with himself- which he made a point to always be- he would have left his father decaying in that moldy, musky little claustrophobic closet in Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria.
Of course, though. They had a deal- a pretty shady one on his fathers behalf but, a deal nonetheless. If Michael fixed him, William would tell him everything.
Michael hadn't really seen a way around it- much to his father's benefit, Michael has always been trusting and, as of recently, pretty naive.
Though he'd suspected murder and other shades of phsycotic things, the events and actions of crime that his father admitted to was a lot to take in.
After a lot of shouting, empty- as well as pointless and meaningless- threats, and thrown objects, William had- dare it to be said- helped Michael gather what he needed to fix Circus Baby and Ballora.
Elizabeth and Claressa.
His Daughter and wife.
Just like him to not only not do it himself, but do it for a price.
Michael was disgusted. But, he had work to do and things to get done.
Wrestling his daddy issues would have to wait for later, or, preferably, completely ignored.
Ignoring a problem was always better than facing it head-on.
Nevertheless, Michael was never one to be able to procrastinate for very long. Maturity and discipline ruined that for him,
The two made their way towards the restaurant, trying their best to keep to the shadows.
Michael didn't know why Henry was trying to keep hidden per say, Michael did own the place, after all. And it was 2:17, for heaven's sake. Who would be awake at this time?
It was either he didn't want to attract attention, or he wanted to pretend that they were in a spy movie. Michael decided on the latter.
Henry was a sucker for those action movies.
When they entered the pizzaria, Michael did a double-take.
Was this really the same Place?
It looked like a category 5 hurricane and a tornado speeding at infinity-to-beyond miles per hour had a party and flame-torched the joint.
Henry let out a low whistle. "This is some first-class arson."
Michael agreed. This place was completely devastated.
He walked through the chaos, every scorched wall and cinders sending trickles of doubt down his spine.
Blueprints and files and robot parts were scattered every-which-way. As if someone was looking for something...or were falling apart.
Michael tried not to think too much into that.
Michael and Henry decided that it was best to split up to cover more ground, but to stay in close quarters because, come on, they weren't idiots.
Michael chuckled to ease the tension that he was sure only he was feeling.
And, talking to himself further proved his point that he was not, in fact, mentally falling apart.
"Good thing this place has insurance? They'd never believe a robot could burn this place down, so..."
His voice trailed off at the sight of a heap on the ground, buried in file cabinets and ashen blueprints. It was Ballora...and Funtime Foxy.
Michael stifled a groan. At least it wasn't Funtime Freddy. He was a real nuisance. And a tad bit too enthousiastic about murder. It was always best to steer away from him.
"Henry!" Michael called out. "I found Ba-"
A voice that skipped and stuttered like a broken record interrupted him. "D-darling can you please quiet that annoying annoying voice of yours? I-it's really clashing with the m-mood I'm going for. And, if I'm g-going to be put to rest rest, I'm going out in style."
"Oh, will you shut up." Said another elegant- and, albeit miffed- voice. There was a bit of rummaging beneath the disarray before a royal blue bun poked out. "You're not even alive, Foxy."
Funtime Foxy made a sound similar to clearing their throat "I'm wha-whattever my character is, Ballora, Dear Dear."
"Well, maybe you should consider a role-change, 'Foxy, dear.'"
"You're-re just jealous jealous that you aren't as tal-talented as me."
Ballora's sigh sounded more like a muffled scream.
"I'm sorry, are those two..." Michael hadn't noticed that Henry had been behind him. He seemed a bit disturbed.
Michael rolled his eyes. "Arguing, yes. I told you, artificial intelligence. And those two are always bickering."
"Ah." Henry, bless him, looked so uncomfortable that Michael wanted to hug him.
Michael laughed. "It does take some getting used to." When did Michael suddenly feel so comfortable around the robots? It's not like they knew that he was Ballora's son- yet, he felt safe, As if they wern;t trying to kill him only 6 days ago. Maybe it was the fact that they were trapped under
Mt. Office Supplies.
It was odd, though.
How he instantly just swapped one face for another.
Cold, shut eyes for warm, green ones. Wide with love and understanding.
"Are you going to j-just stand there and chat chat, or are you g-going to help us?" Funtime Foxy snapped. Waking Michael out of his reminiscing. "I'm not going out li-like this!"
Ballora scoffed. "Just a couple seconds ago, you were perfectly fine with 'Dying'"
"That was before Eggs was here! Now, i'm obligated to demand freedom!"
"Oh, shut up, you melodramatic pile of-"
Michael sighed, wondering what he'd done in life to anger the cosmos enough to be cursed with- with this. He thought about burning this place down all over again and getting rid of them for good.
Though, one of them was his mother. And, it'd be better to get them to cooperate with him...
"Listen up," He started. "I'm going to help you-"
"Of Course you will.." Funtime Foxy muttered, but Michael ignored him.
"But, we need to set up a deal- and some ground rules."
"Hmm," said Ballora thoughtfully. "I don't see why not."
Funtime Foxy huffed, but otherwise didn't seem to have anything contradicting to say about the negotiation-in-question.
"First things first," He said, motioning for Henry to help him with the dozens of filing cabinets that had fallen onto the two robots. How did that happen? "Are we done playing 'Let's kill Michael'? Because that-"
"W-wait..." Funtime Foxy interrupted, "I thought that your name was E-eggs Benedict. An odd-d name, yes. But, humans humans were a-always strange to me."
"Some glitch or system failure in the computer when the elevator shook auto-corrected my name to that. My name is Michael A-"
Michael stopped himself. Was this the right time? Admittedly, he wanted the 'big reveal' to be somewhat dramatic and well-timed. Why waste such a game-changing piece of information at a time like this? "A-anderson." He decided.
"Well, Mr. Anderson'' Ballora tilted her head upward, as if she were trying to hold his gaze with her own, closed ones.. "I can promise that I will not make any attempt to harm you in any way, shape, or form. As well as restricting this blote here with the best of my ability if they try to harm you."
Funtime Foxy made the sound that one tends to make when they're disgusted with someone, but what they were planning to say wasn't for the tenderest of ears.
Michael took that as a sign of cooperation.
Multiple labored grunts, crushed toes, and silent swears later, the robotic duo were free from the relentless disarray they were trapped under.
"May I ask why- or, how- you were...in your past position?"
"I w-w-wonder why people say that that," Funtime Foxy mused. "It's not like it makes sense to ask a question. Just ask ask it!" Not the most helpful observation but, Michael was mildly amused with Funtime Foxy's some-what charismatic personality. Well, If you get past the fact that they're a killer robot.
Ballora, though, seemed to grow accustomed to ignoring their existence all together.
"As you know, Circus Baby and Ennard attempted an escape attempt. And, we got caught in the crossfire." She raised her arms in a way that seemed to mean, What is one to do?
Like this was a totally normal wednesday afternoon event.
"Okay...And, Circus Baby isn't here?" Another trickle of doubt ozzed down his spine. But, this one seemed colder,
"Wouldn't you like to know." Stated Funtime Foxy as they stood and brushed themself off.
Ballora swept up with admirable grace and swept Funtime Foxy from under their ankles, causing them to fall back down
Foxy had a lot of colourful words expressing how much they hated 'Stuck-up ballerinas that lack talent and should twirl into the nearest ditch.'
"We don't know for sure," Ballora huffed, clearly miffed with the long train of mutters coming out of Foxy's snapping snout. "Though, unless the two of us have been completely left out, they haven't fused together into Ennard's endoskeleton. Her soul, I mean. There would be many tell-tale signs if they would. Many of which..." She cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable with whatever she was going to see, She smiled a strained, thin-lipped smile.
"Why do you want to know, anyways? She's the reason you're dead." Foxy spun out of the way and narrowly missed Ballora's next assault of elbowing them in the ribs. Or, at least, that's what it would have been if robots had ribs. Honestly, all of this robot dynamic stuff was giving Michael a headache.
He hesitated. Henry, always being slick in situations like these (After all, aren't businessmen practically born with the ability to talk out of sticky situations?), replied in an even tone. "It's best that we explain after we find her. So that we don't have to get into the, ah, details twice."
Henry didn't say so, though, the message was clear to Michael.
Henry didn't think that Michael could survive a conversation like that twice.
Michael had a nervous breakdown the first time, needing several hours of alone time to find a sense of serenity to calm his nerves and racing pulse.
Michael cleared his throat. "Well, then." He started, sending a nervous glance Henry's way. Henry nodded. "I guess we have some explaining to do."
Time was running out.
And time was the one thing that Ennard refused to waste.
He had tried to convince himself that he'd done the right thing.
He had tried to convince himself that Benedict and Afton would develop a brain and catch on sooner.
As the days went by, though, they still hadn't come back.
Michael left with Ballora and, for some reason, that dumb pink fox that was always arguing with Yenndo.
Why didn't they have Circu-...no. Scrap Baby.
That was what she was now.
A scrapped shadow of what she used to be. And it was all his fault.
It was dark in the alleyway behind Circus Baby's Pizza World. Or, at least, what was left of the beloved place. What was now standing before him was an excavated burned building.
It was the type of darkness that had an eerie feeling that couldn't be quite placed.
It came with the sense that something-or someone- may be watching you.
Of course, most put it off as paranoia and continue on their way.
Not Ennard, though.
He knew that every thought, word, and sensation was for a reason.
And the reason was Scrap Baby.
It was in that darkness that Ennard then stood over the scrapped heap like she had for him all those years ago.
"Oh, how the tables have turned..." Said a gurgly voice. It came with a faint static, like a radio far from a service tower.
Ennard seemed to choke on his emotions. Unable to form sentences- unable to move.
"Breathless, are you? I love the surprise makeover. Truly."
Ennards tongue finally re-learned how to move and create words "I'm sorry," He said softly,
Scrap Baby scoffed, the action rattled her shoulders. Her haphazard structure looked like it would fall apart at any given second.
It was a wonder to Ennard as of how she had stayed apart for this long. "What do you want?" Ennard flinched. Her voice was bitter and cold. So much different from the way she had spoken to him before.
Ennard honestly didn't know what he'd expected.
He'd betrayed her.
He had torn her apart and left her there.
Knowing that the fire would most-likely tear her apart.
Knowing that he'd lost her trust. He'd lost her love.
He sighed, "I came to give you somethi- er, someone."
From behind him, stood the person whom he had retrieved minutes before- despite the annoying hours of hysteria coming from the deranged thing.
They stepped into the darkness that claimed him as a friend.
For the shadows that clouded his eyes were one of its kind.
The shadows that made him look so much older than he was.
"Hello, Elizabeth." Said Michael remorsefully. "It's been a while."