Sunday, December 25, 1994

Having finished eating breakfast, Evan and Mangle lay in front of the TV watching Christmas specials while snuggling up to each other.

Suddenly, the wall buzzer lit up.

The sixteen-year-old couldn't help but to let out a frustrated sigh at that. "Oh, what does he want now?"

With a sly smile on her face, Mangle joked, "Maybe he wants to apologize?"

Evan rolled his eyes. "Oh, wouldn't that be the day?" Then, with another sigh, he got up on his feet. "Well, I better see what it is he wants. I'll be back shortly."

Leaving the barn, Evan trudged over to the house with a scowl, convinced that his father was about to punish him further.

However, as he opened the front door, he found that both his father and his brother were waiting for him in the living room. And much to his surprise, his father had an uncharacteristically apologetic expression on his face. His brother, on the other hand, was sitting on the sofa and looking a bit awkward, as if he didn't know what their father was up to either.

As the sixteen-year-old closed the door behind him, William let out a drawn-out sigh and then said, "Evan, I owe both you and Mangle an apology."

Michael blinked in surprise. Neither he nor his brother could remember the last time their father had apologized for anything.

While he was just as surprised as his brother, it didn't take long for Evan to respond with, "Yes. You do."

"And you're right—I have been making excuses to keep Mangle away from me," William admitted.

"Why?" Evan demanded.

"Because I'm afraid," William admitted reluctantly. "Afraid of how she might react to me, what she might do, and the repercussions that might have."

Evan's expression softened somewhat. "Father, she won't hurt you, I can assure you of that."

"No you can't," William replied.

"Yes I—"

"No, Evan. There's no way for you to know that for sure, not when the vast majority of Mangle's code is locked inside of that mystery component of hers," William pointed out. "If I can admit that I have been making excuses, then you should be able to admit that you can't actually make any guarantees about my safety."

Evan frowned. "Fine. But I can at least attest that it's incredibly unlikely that she'll hurt you."

"And so there is a risk that she'll react… negatively, no matter how small," William said. "Hence why I'm afraid. But… there's something I've come to realize."

"And that is?" Evan asked.

William gestured to the sofa. "Take a seat and hear me out, and I'll tell you."

Evan regarded his father with apprehension, but then finally relented. "Fine."

The sixteen-year-old joined his brother on the sofa, while his father sat down in the armchair to the left of it.

William exhaled and tapped his fingers together, steeling himself. "Aside from bits and pieces about my grandfather, I have never told you boys about my family and my life before I moved to the States, and truth be told, I never had any intention of doing so… until now."

He continued, "I grew up just outside of the city of Oxford, in a manor owned by my father, who was just about the most unpleasant man I have ever known. He was a judge and, along with my mother, was very controlling. They had the lives of my brother and I planned out in detail."

"Wait, we have an uncle?" Michael interrupted.

"Yes, but he wasn't much better than our parents," William replied with a sneer. "He was all too happy to follow the path they had set out for him and regarded me with contempt for not doing so. As for our parents, they punished me severely whenever they felt like I had stepped out of line."

William frowned. "Every moment I spent with them was full of misery…" A slight smile then spread across his lips, and with a look of nostalgia he continued, "The one bright spot in my childhood was my grandfather. He was an electrical engineer and computer scientist whose brilliance was only matched by his love for life."

William chuckled. "He invented one of the first supercomputers, you know—the LIMAC—his pride and joy. I think he saw a part of himself in me, and saw how my parents squandered my potential, and so he took me under his wing—picking me up after school to spend time with me and teach me everything he knew." With a fond smile, he continued, "It was he who sparked my lifelong passion for science. I wouldn't be half the man I am today if it wasn't for him."

With a saddened look on his face, William continued, "Of course, my parents weren't particularly happy that he spent so much time with me. Not only that, but they wanted me to be a lawyer, not a scientist." He let out a sigh. "And then, just a month before my eleventh birthday, it came to light that my grandfather was gay."

Michael perked up upon hearing that.

"My father was absolutely livid when he found out, and because of that, I never got to see him ever again…" William then smirked ruefully. "Of course, he had the last laugh, as he secretly made me the beneficiary of the vast majority of his estate in his will—something I was informed of just after he passed away—with it being held in trust by a friend of his until I came of age. It's what allowed me to build the life we have now." He frowned again. "However, my grandfather wasn't the only person that my father pushed away."

With downcast eyes, he continued. "As you both know, your mother was half-German, and my father had a profound hatred for Germans."

Michael furrowed his brow. "Huh? Why Germans?"

"Because he grew up in the shadow of the First World War and lived through the second, and so in his eyes Germans were an unusually envious and cruel people. At times he would even remark that it had been a mistake not to exterminate the entirety of the German nation at the end of the war," William replied.

Michael looked horrified. "Jesus Christ."

"As I said, my father was the most unpleasant man I have ever known," William pointed out. "And as you can probably gather, he was not too happy to learn that I was dating a half-German woman."

With a rueful chuckle, William continued, "He threatened to cut me off if I didn't break up with her, and when I refused and told him that I was going to marry her, he disowned me. The last thing I ever said to him was that I was going to be a…" His voice cracked, and in response he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to recompose himself. Then, opening his eyes again, he continued, "... a better father than he ever was."

With teary eyes, William regarded his sons with a look of deep regret. "I think it's pretty evident that I have failed in that regard. Not only did my oversight lead to the death of your sister, but now…" He focused his gaze on his youngest son. "... I'm pushing you away just as my father did to me."

As much as Evan resented his father for the things he had said, he couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him. Nevertheless, he stood his ground. "What else am I supposed to do when you refuse to allow my best friend to be a part of our lives, and go so far as to threaten to hurt her?"

"I understand that, sport, and I deeply regret it," William replied. "And I realize now that if I don't take a leap of faith with Mangle, I'm…" His voice cracked once more, but this time his eyes welled up with tears. "... I'm going to lose you too."

Evan furrowed his brow with a look of skepticism. "So… does that mean that you're actually willing to meet her?"

"Yes," William replied with some reluctance. "But before that, I want you to show her a picture of me and tell me how she reacts to it, just to be safe."

More than a little surprised at his father's change of heart, Evan couldn't help but to smile. "Very well."

"Very well," Evan said as he got up from the sofa, with a smile creeping onto his face.

The sixteen-year-old got up from the sofa and looked around at the various family photos decorating the walls. Upon spotting one with a good close-up of his father's face, he walked over to it and took it.

He turned back to his father and said, "I'll be back shortly."

With that, he left for the barn.

Once Evan had closed the front door behind him, Michael then spoke up. "So what exactly is the plan here? You're not going to let that thing into the house, are you?"

"Yes I am, Michael," William replied bluntly. "Provided that she doesn't react negatively to the picture."

"Well, in that case, I'm out," Michael said as he got out of the sofa.

"Michael, stay," William said.

"There's no way in hell that I'm doing that," Michael said and then walked towards the front door. He turned around and added, "And you can't make me."

Michael threw on his coat and grabbed his car keys, and he had just opened the door when his father spoke up again.

"Michael, you owe it to your brother to stay," William said sternly.

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. "Why, because I was horrible to him when we were kids? You think I don't know that?" He closed the door and turned to face his father. "I've tried to make it up to him! I've tried for years, but it's clear that he simply doesn't want anything to do with me!"

William got out of his seat and approached Michael. "Yes, because your idea of making up with Evan always hinged on him dropping what he was doing to spend time with you. But now is your chance to actually set things right by taking part in something that's important to him."

Michael folded his arms. "The last time that animatronic of his got near me, it did this to me," he said and pointed at his facial scars. "So the last thing I want is to be in the same room as that thing."

William huffed a laugh at that. "And you think I do? Michael, even if Mangle doesn't react negatively to my picture, she still might kill me when she sees me in person. But it's nevertheless something I have to do, because if I don't, I'm going to lose your brother once he moves out." He gave Michael a serious look. "As will you if you choose to leave."

Michael glared at his father, then shut his eyes and ground his teeth. Finally, he let out a defeated sigh. "Fine… I'll stay…"

As Evan entered the barn, he was met with Mangle, who was laying in front of the TV.

"So what did he want?" She asked.

"Well, believe it or not, but he actually wanted to apologize… to both of us," Evan replied as he closed the door behind him.

Looking quite surprised, Mangle sat up. "Wait, really? So I was right?"

"I'm as surprised as you are," Evan admitted. "And not only that, but he's open to the idea of you being allowed into the house."

Mangle couldn't help but to perk up and smile upon hearing that, and her tail began to wag. "Really!?"

"I'm still not entirely convinced that he meant it, but that is what he claims," Evan replied and then gestured to the photo frame he was carrying. "But he asked me to show you a picture of him first so that we can get an idea of how you would react to him."

"Okay. Well then, let's see it," Mangle said eagerly.

Evan couldn't help but to chuckle at Mangle's enthusiasm, but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't excited as well. He then showed Mangle the picture. "Here."

It was a photograph of his father sitting at his workbench and looking at the camera with a proud smile on his face. However, upon seeing the picture, Mangle's eyes went wide and she recoiled away from it. With her ears pinned back against her head and a furrowed brow, she stared at the photograph as if she was unable to look away from it.

Feeling quite surprised at her reaction, Evan regarded the vixen with worried eyes and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, it's just…" She trailed off as her gaze continued to be fixed on the picture held in front of her.

"How does it make you feel?" He asked inquisitively.

"I'm… I'm not sure," Mangle replied. "I've never felt like this before, but… it's like fear and… anger. It's like… like I'm looking at pure evil."

"Like you're looking at the 'bad man'?" Evan suggested.

"Yeah." The vixen nodded and finally looked away from the picture.

Evan let out a sigh. "Mangle, my father is not the killer. Sure, he's far from perfect and has some bad days, but he'd never kill anyone, let alone a child. I mean, he's devoted his whole life towards entertaining children, and he knows what it's like to lose a child, so he simply can't be the killer."

Mangle returned her gaze to the picture as if she expected it to somehow change. Then, with a rueful chuckle, looked back at the sixteen-year-old. "I guess your father was right—whatever bug is affecting my facial recognition system must somehow be worse when it comes to those who used to work as guards at Freddy's."

Putting the picture away, Evan regarded the vixen with a look of concern. "So how do you think you'd react if you met him in person."

"I'm not going to attack him, if that's what you're getting at," Mangle replied and looked away with an abashed expression on her face. "I'm not some animal that gets overcome by a killer instinct. Even when I hurt those people all those years ago, it was only because I was in a high-stress environment and was too young to see any other option." She turned back to Evan with a determined look in her eyes. "I'm a much different person now, and I have a much better understanding of if and when to use violence."

Evan regarded the vixen with great fondness and reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "I know, Mangle, and I trust you completely in that regard. I just wanted to be certain."

William's mind raced as he sat in his armchair and waited. A part of him was screaming inside his mind, telling him how bad of an idea this was and to either call it off or grab something he could defend himself with. However, he pushed those thoughts aside. As much as he cared about his own survival and keeping his secrets, he knew that he had to do this in order to salvage his relationship with his son and protégé.

William turned to look at Michael, who was sitting on the sofa. The twenty-one-year-old seemed to be just as scared as he was. They were about to face something that they had both been dreading for several years now, and the fact that they were doing it together, as father and son, felt oddly reassuring.

Finally, the front door opened, and Evan stepped inside. He looked worried, yet hopeful.

Getting up from the armchair, William asked, "So how did she react?"

Evan rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly? She was more than a little perturbed when she saw the picture, but was nevertheless convinced that her reaction stems from that elusive bug afflicting her facial recognition system," he replied. "And she has assured me that she won't act upon any feelings this bug inspires in her."

Fear began to swell inside of William as he took all of this in. Given how Mangle had reacted to his picture alone, the risk of her attacking him had risen dramatically. Even if she was completely truthful about not acting upon her feelings, there was still a risk that they would overtake her once they actually met in person.

Once again, a part of William was internally screaming at him to call all of this off before it was too late. However, once again William pushed those thoughts aside.

"How do you wish to proceed?" Evan asked.

William's mouth opened and closed as he tried and failed to give his youngest son an answer. But when he saw a frown form upon the sixteen-year-old's face, William finally replied, "Bring her here. It's time we finally meet."

Evan looked pleasantly surprised. "Very well, I'll be back soon."

With that, the sixteen-year-old took his leave once more.

Once he had left, Michael spoke up. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Letting out a rueful chuckle, William replied, "No, but we're doing this nevertheless."

Michael eyed the front door, which his father immediately took note of.

"Don't," William said in a very stern tone.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Michael replied with an exasperated sigh.

The two then proceeded to wait for what felt like an eternity before they started hearing the faint sound of voices coming from outside. That's when William noticed that Michael's breathing was becoming more and more rapid. Moreover, the twenty-one-year-old's hands began to tremble.

Suddenly, Michael said, "I can't do this!"

William put his hand on his son's shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Yes you can, Michael."

Meanwhile outside, Mangle began to fidget with her hands as she and Evan approached the front door.

"Hey, Evan?"

The sixteen-year-old hummed in reply as he turned around to face her. "Yes?"

"I think I'm starting to have second thoughts," the vixen admitted with downcast eyes.

Evan regarded her with concern. "Why?"

"Because… Because…" Mangle trailed off and then let out a sigh. "... what if they don't like me?"

"Then you can simply choose never to interact with them ever again," Evan replied with an amused smile. "You have avoided them for the past seven and a half years, so I'm sure you can continue to avoid them for a little while longer if need be."

"Yeah, that's a good point," Mangle admitted.

"Now, are you ready?" Evan asked as he gestured towards the door.

Mangle huffed a laugh. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Then let's do this," the sixteen-year-old said with a smirk.

As Evan opened the door, Mangle was immediately hit with the sweet and spicy smell coming from inside. It smelled really nice!

However, once the sixteen-year-old opened the door wide enough, the vixen spotted his father, and once again she was overwhelmed by that strange feeling—as if she was looking at pure evil. Of course, she knew that it was because of that damn bug in her system, so she pushed those feelings aside and instead tried to rationally assess the man by looking at his expression and body language, and what she noticed was that, in addition to looking absolutely amazed, he seemed just as nervous and worried as she was. That alone helped put her at ease.

She then shifted her gaze to the man standing next to him—Michael—and upon seeing the scars on his face, her ears pinned back against her head as she was filled with guilt and shame. The twenty-one-year-old stared back at her with cautious and fearful eyes.

As Evan entered the house, Mangle slowly stepped after him.

"Welcome, Mangle," William greeted her with a polite, yet forced smile. "It's nice to finally meet you."

The vixen nodded. "Likewise."

"And I apologize for refusing to do so until now," William continued. "And… for threatening to harm you."

Mangle opened and closed her mouth as she tried to come up with a reply, but then she looked away. She knew that you're supposed to either accept apologies or say something to acknowledge them, but the things he had said had hurt her so deeply that she just didn't know what to say.

"Mangle, you don't have to forgive me," William suddenly said as if he could read her mind. "All I ask is that you give me a chance to try to make it up to you. Would you be willing to do that?"

The vixen returned her gaze to him and from the looks of it, he did seem sincere. She nodded and said, "Yeah." She then eyed Michael and realized how similar her and William's situations were in this moment. "Um, Michael?"

The twenty-one-year-old didn't respond, he just stared at her incredulously.

Overwhelmed with guilt, the vixen blurted out, "I'm deeply, deeply sorry for what I did to you all those years ago. I wish I could take it back, I really do… but I can't. I don't expect you to ever forgive me, but I want you to know that I'm sorry and that you have nothing to fear from me."

Michael furrowed his brow with an absolutely bewildered expression on his face. He turned to look at his little brother, then his father, and then back at Mangle.

"R-right," he finally replied in disbelief.

Evan smirked at that.

"You have to forgive Michael," William said, suppressing a grin. "It's not every day that we get to meet someone as impressive as you, after all."

"It's okay," Mangle replied earnestly. "I know how different I am, and I don't expect anyone to get used to me just like that." She gave Michael a look of regret. "Especially you. Not after what I did."

"That is quite mature of you, my dear, and greatly appreciated," William said before turning to his eldest son. "Wouldn't you agree, Michael?"

"Uh… Yeah…" Was all Michael was able to say in response.

"Now, why don't you have a seat?" William suggested and gestured towards the sofa.

"Um, sure!" The vixen replied as her tail swished from side to side.

She turned to look at Evan, who gave her an encouraging smile, and the two of them went over to the sofa. Michael, meanwhile, stayed right by his father's side.

"Now, I'm going to have to tend to the turkey, but please do make yourself at home!" William said as he walked past the sofa. "And, tell you what, I'll bring some tea and treats with me when I return."

"That sounds lovely. Thank you," Mangle replied with a smile as she and Evan sat down next to each other on the sofa. As they did, the vixen couldn't help but to smile at how soft and comfortable the sofa was.

William then trudged over to the kitchen with Michael following close behind.

Mangle looked around the room and giggled. "It's been seven years and this place still looks almost exactly the same."

"That's only because Father wants it to stay the same, either because he can't move on from my sister's death or because he's hoping that Mother might return one day," Evan explained.

"O-oh," Mangle replied, feeling more than a little awkward.

"How are you holding up, by the way?" The sixteen-year-old asked.

"Honestly? Better than I thought I would," Mangle replied. "Even though I know your Father said some horrible things, he's been really nice so far."

Evan grimaced upon hearing that, and at first it didn't seem like he was going to respond, but then he finally said, "I hate to tell you this, Mangle, but he's just putting on an act."

The vixen stared at him dejectedly. "... What?"

"He's so afraid of losing me that he's willing to do anything to repair our relationship, which is why he's treating you like you're just another person," Evan explained, but then added, "That's not to say that he won't see you as a person eventually, but as of now it's merely an act."

"Oh…" Mangle looked away with downcast eyes, her ears pinned back against her head.

The sixteen-year-old frowned as he regarded her. "I'm sorry… It wasn't my intention to—"

"No, I'm glad that you told me," Mangle interrupted him. "It just hurts to know that I'm not seen as a real person, you know?"

"I know." Evan put his arm around her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Just know that, no matter what, you'll always have me."

Mangle hummed in reply and leaned into the sixteen-year-old, resting her head against his.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, William was suppressing a grin as he took the turkey out of the oven. Not only had Mangle not killed him, but he had finally gotten a chance to properly observe her, and he was absolutely astounded!

All other Remnant-infused animatronics that he had studied suffered from a myriad of issues—they struggled to retain memories, and those they did retain became too vague for the animatronics to fully comprehend; and they would occasionally twitch or even glitch out, especially when going outside the bounds of their pre-programmed behavior. But Mangle was different. She didn't seem to have any of these issues.

William was sure that if he could just get a chance to study her, he would be able to get some invaluable insights on how to bring back those he had lost.

Michael, who was standing next to the sink, watched him with folded arms.

"Is something the matter, Michael?" William asked as he basted the turkey.

"'Is something the matter?' 'Is something the matter?' Yes, Father! There's currently an animatronic in our living room that's talking and acting exactly like a human, that's what's the matter!" Michael replied.

William glanced at the twenty-one-year-old with a smirk. "Absolutely remarkable, isn't she?"

"But how is it even possible?!" Michael demanded. "Even the most advanced robot I've ever heard of still undeniably acts like a machine. But her—it—seems so human that, if I didn't know any better, I'd think that it was just someone wearing an elaborate costume."

William chuckled at his son's reaction. "Well, as much as I hate to admit it, Henry always was the better programmer of the two of us, and the Toy line's AI must be his crowning achievement, even if he himself doesn't know it. He created a self-improving AI that somehow overcame its hardware limitations."

"But I remember what the Toy animatronics were like! Hell, I remember what Mangle was like! They were notoriously aggressive!" Michael exclaimed.

"And have you considered how bad of a place Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was for their developing minds?" William asked. "They were treated as nothing but mindless machines and pieces of entertainment, so of course they ended up acting out." A proud smile then spread across his face. "But Evan brought one of them home with him, treated her like an equal, and filled her with nothing but love for seven years. In so doing, he brought out the true potential of Henry's creation." William's smile widened. "In a way, you could say that Mangle is the ultimate culmination of Henry and I's labors—the perfect replication of the human soul."

Michael didn't respond at first, and so William took the opportunity to return the turkey to the oven. It was then that the twenty-one-year-old spoke up.

"Do you… really think it has a soul?"

William shrugged as he suppressed a knowing smile. "Why not? She certainly acts like a human, so she might as well have one."

Michael hummed in reply, seemingly deep in thought.

"What about you, Michael?" William asked. "What do you think of her?"

"Honestly, meeting her wasn't anywhere near as bad as I thought it would be," Michael replied. "She's not anything like what I remember. Hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd think that she was a completely different animatronic."

William cocked an eyebrow at that. "So would you be willing to spend some more time with her?"

Michael grimaced as he thought it over. Then, with a sigh, he said, "If it makes Evan happy, then sure."

"Excellent!" William exclaimed. "Though, it would of course go a long way if you were to refer to her using the correct pronouns."

Michael blinked. "Um… pronouns?"

William rolled his eyes. "Oh for god's sake, Michael, you learned this in elementary school!" He rubbed his forehead and let out an exasperated sigh. "Call her 'she' or 'her' instead of 'it'."

"Oh!" Michael exclaimed, finally seeming to understand what he was getting at. "Alright, gotcha."