Chapter Text
Your body is not your own, you have no autonomy.
Your body is not your own, you are public property!
∼ Vagina Police by Dream Nails ∼
Michael Afton. It was a name he used to be proud of, fond of, even. It was a name he wore with pride. Now, it only left a bitter taste in his mouth anytime he said it.
Michael Afton.
Michael Afton..
He needed a new name. One that didn’t make him want to throw up his long gone organs.
Michael Schmidt?
Mike Schmidt?
Mike Schmidt.
That’d work. It was new, a clean slate if you will. Mike Schmidt wasn’t attached to all the atrocities that Michael Afton committed throughout his life. Just like the heinous things his father did..
No..
That’s not right..
Mike Schmidt hasn't done anything wrong. He hasn't made any mistakes..
Unlike Michael Afton.
Currently, Michael Schmidt needs to focus on fixing William Afton's mistakes. He needed to focus on fixing Michael Afton’s mistakes. Because Mike Schmidt is a clean slate. Mike Schmidt hasn’t done anything wrong. No. He’s just someone who needs to fix things that horrible people have done. Like a janitor picking up litter someone left behind for him to clean up.
Now with Michael Afton retired, Mike Schmidt decided to get started fixing the Afton's’ wrong doings, because what better time than the present? He needed to go back to-
No..
He needed to go to Michael Afton's origins. Fredbears family diner was long gone by now, shutting down shortly after ‘ the bite of 83’ as most liked to say. In its place was a new restaurant. A pizzeria called; Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria. He needed to get a job there, given he didn’t have much money and was currently unemployed. Then, once he did get said job, he’d be able to sneak off during his shift to go investigate the building, and try to find any evidence that might be connected to even the smallest bit of one of the many horrible crimes William Afton committed. Maybe even some that his little lapdog, Michael Afton, committed. One of his crimes was even spread all over the newspapers at one point, completely shutting down the entire diner because of one, small prank.
He didn’t feel like himself anymore. He didn’t feel like Michael Afton. He didn’t want to feel like Michael Afton. He didn’t want to be Michael Afton. He used to constantly be compared to William Afton, he used to love it, loved being told he was like his awesome dad. He used to be so naive back then, thinking William was the coolest dad he could have. Despite neglecting his own kids, despite neglecting Michael. Leaving his oldest son to take care of two kids on his own. He didn’t realize that was bad at the time, hell, he even thought it was normal. Now, Mike realized how horrible his father was. Only after becoming a husk of who he once was, did he finally open his eyes and come to his senses. Well, as many senses as he had now.
Now Mike just needed to find where Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria was, which wasn’t very hard considering there were flyers with missing kids on them everywhere with the address of the infamous pizzeria right underneath. He pocketed all the different missing posters he found for possible future evidence, and read the address to the nearby pizzeria. He was finally doing this. He was finally going to put the kids souls’ to rest, and prove to everyone that William Afton was nothing but a heartless monster. To prove to himself that he wasn’t the horrible thing his father was, or to prove that he was, in fact, the same as his father, either one worked.
Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria wasn’t too far from where Mike was, being about a 10 minute walk. As he started walking along the shadows, he pondered what exactly he was now. He wasn’t alive, that's for sure. But he wasn’t dead, either. He was stuck in a sort of middle ground, a zombie if you will. His skin was purple and wrinkly, his iris was a bright magenta that almost glowed in certain lighting, with his sclera being a deep black. His teeth were slowly starting to yellow, and his organs were gone, leaving only a deep hole in his stomach where organs used to sit.
He stopped.
The sun was long gone, and the moon shined down in its place instead. The darkness of the night hiding him in a thick layer of shadows. A million bright stars freckled the surface of the night sky, it reminded him of another freckled person he used to know. He stared down at his hands. His stupid, purple hands. It reminded him of that fateful day. The day his hands were stained with horrible, red blood. Blood that wasn’t his own. He hated that day. He hated remembering that day. He hated himself. He hated himself for being so fucking stupid.
No.. Stop.
Those were Michael Afton's horrible memories, not Mike Schmidt's. He shoved that memory into a box and pushed it into the back of his mind. That was a box he didn’t want to open. That was a box he didn’t need to open right now. He wasn’t Michael Afton anymore, he was Mike Schmidt now. So what if it's just a fake name to get a job? Maybe it could be more. A fresh start. Sure, he might be a zombie now, but with a bit of disguising, he might be able to get away with it. Maybe he won’t have to deal with the horrible consequences of being an Afton anymore. Maybe he could just be a normal person?
No, no, no, no. That was selfish of him. To just leave all the wrongdoings of him and William Afton for someone else to try and fix. To just leave all their victims to be stuck on earth, and feel nothing but agony? That was fucking selfish of him. He helped William Afton. He helped William become who he is today. He was the one who killed his siblings, it was his responsibility to clean up after his father. It was his responsibility to fix everything. He was the one who screwed everything up, and only kept screwing everything up, after all. But was he..?
He wasn’t even supposed to be around this long, he should be dead. He wanted to be dead. Fuck being selfish, he didn’t want to clean up after everyone. He didn’t want to still be alive, he wanted to be dead, he wanted to rest. He didn’t want to be stuck on earth putting together every little piece he could find.
He didn’t want to be his fathers lap dog anymore. Doing everything his father said, just in hopes to maybe, just maybe, get that little bit of praise. To feel useful for once. To feel like his father actually loved him, wanted him. He was dumb. He was dumb for even thinking that his father would want him, let alone love him. He was dumb for blindlessly trusting him. He was dumb for thinking he was useful. Mike wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. With nothing but a hollow husk of what used to be his stomach full of organs, he couldn’t. He wanted to feel something, but everything was just..
Numb.
He couldn’t feel cold anymore, he couldn’t feel warm, he could only feel what his brain let him feel. He wanted to cry, to scream at the top of his lungs, to punch the wall and pull his hair out, to shrink down into a little ball and cradle his legs against his hollow chest like when he was a kid.
But Mike didn’t have time for that. He needed to get to Freddy’s, get that job, and find a disguise all within a couple of hours. The moon was going to start to set soon, and he couldn’t be seen in daylight with how he looks now. He needed to work now, and quickly if he wanted to accomplish everything in the short amount of time he had.
So he started walking again, pushing those feelings deep down in his brain, hoping to have to deal with them later, if ever.