Chapter Text
Michael paces in the security room in anticipation. It’s around 9:45 and you haven’t yet gotten to Freddy's. He realizes he won't be able to see you from here to unlock the doors so he wanders to the front doors.
He’s turned on some of the lights or at least the working ones which are basically only in the main room; not so many as to be inconspicuous but enough to where you will be able to see the place a little better.
He had actually swept the place around the entrance earlier before making himself put the broom away- he should be trying to drive you away and make sure you don’t come back again- but for some reason, he can't stifle the small inclination to impress you or make the place…a little more comfortable- as comfortable as it could be at Freddy’s.
He glances through a gap in the newspapers glued thickly to the grimy windows. It’s still nearly pitch black outside and he doesn’t spot headlights yet. He’s about to step away from the window when a face suddenly obscures his vision. He lets out a stunted yell and jumps away from the window. As he catches his breath he hears your knock on one of the front doors and wearily makes his way over.
When he opens the door, you’re standing in front of him, the soft light filtering out from behind him distinguishing you from the cold darkness. Your expression is neutral until you apparently see his own and a smile breaks across your face. He realizes he must still look frazzled.
He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair as you laugh, “so i did scare you” you say. He looks back to you, your grin making him unable to not smile. “Yeah, you did” he replies, realizing how odd it is to say considering he’s the one who usually spooks people.
He glances across your features, the light catching your hair and creating almost a halo around your head. He quickly looks away, realizing he’s staring again, and moves aside to welcome you in. Your eyes soften and your smile persists as you shuffle by him and he quickly averts his gaze to focus on closing up the doors.
When he turns back, your back is to him, looking on towards the stage again. He turns away and busies himself with tidying the few musty items at the prize counter, not yet sure of how to go about this whole situation. you speak up, “thanks again for letting me in here”.
He looks over his shoulder at you to see you still transfixed on the stage at the back of the large room. “Yeah, no problem” he replies easily. Actually, this is definitely a problem; but after tonight I can just avoid her and we won’t interact ever again.
He turns fully towards you, leaning back on the counter as you pull your attention from the stage and look at him. He clears his throat quickly and pushes off of the counter, asking, “So what is it you wanted to see here anyways?”
Your look hardens, replaced with a more serious expression. After a beat you answer, “I guess, i just wanted to get a look around the place- since I didn't get to see much the first time, obviously…” he nods casually but your change in demeanor piques his interest. He replies after some thought, “well I guess I'll just give you the tour.” with a shrug. You nod.
—--
You walk behind Michael as he navigates the hallways in his flashlight glow.
“It’s all pretty uninteresting” he says, but you don’t really think so. You shrug in reply as you continue scanning the walls covered in sketches and posters.
You arrive at the door to the security office and Michael pushes it open and heads inside. He flips on the light and you come in after him, turning slowly to get the whole view of the room as he stands at one corner.
You take in the ancient, dusty monitor screens sitting on the even older dustier desk. There isn't much in the room besides some boxes and a couple lockers behind the desk and its worn out chair. On the walls hang clipboards, presumably with employee handbooks, emergency procedures, instructions for new workers. There clearly won’t be much to find here.
You turn to Michael and nod that you're ready to continue and he heads back out to the hallway. “I can show you the party rooms if you care to see them,” he says. You take up the offer.
Even though you're actually looking forward to the backrooms and office, you still can't help but want to see the rest of the place too.
You don't have much memory of Freddys, besides the classic stage and main room. But there's a chance you've been before and can't remember; another time that wasn’t your sister’s friend's birthday. You were still pretty young when your sister died, many memories beforehand lost or blurry- not that the memories after were much different; Annie’s death put a lens on your life that is only now starting to go away, much of your teenage years weren't even spent making memories, more trying to forget all the bad ones.
Maybe seeing the other parts of the restaurant could jog your memory.
You come to a dead end with a few doors.
“They’re all essentially the same thing” Michael says, pushing one of the doors open and pointing the light inside to reveal the small and simple room- table in the middle, what looks like the table cloth is neatly folded on a seat, and all the rest of the chairs neatly lined across the table top.
The whole place so far has struck you as almost…clean. Obviously there's plenty of dust, and the lingering smell of pizza and musk remains, but it isn’t destroyed inside like you once pictured. In the main room the tables are quite identical to here. The stage was clear of junk, even the prize counter hadn’t looked too bad. The entrance had looked almost swept.
From beside him you say, “this whole place is… kind of clean. I mean not really ‘clean’ but it’s tidier than I expected.”
“Yeah, it is. I have been almost trying to keep the place orderly, not that it’s necessary. Just gave me something to keep myself busy with for my first few weeks on the job. And if it looks oddly up-kept, intruders will usually take that as a bad sign and leave; that is if I haven't kicked them out yet.”
You take a final glance at the room, turn towards Michael and ask “are there backstage rooms?”
For a second an almost uncomfortable look passes over him, but then he’s back to normal and replies “yeah, mainly for old stage props and stuff, I take it you want to see?” you nod.
As you go on down another branch of the hallway, you wonder passively why he paused when you asked. Who knows?
You arrive at two large metal doors and head through. They open to a slightly narrower hallway, the walls are blue and bare now and the ground has lost the checker print and is now just concrete.
—--
Michael’s father would've found your behavior suspicious, he would’ve told Michael to be wary, stay alert. Yet he can't seem to find any motive for you coming besides just being nostalgic, though feeling nostalgia or missing a place like this seems like a foreign idea to him.
You probably came here as a kid and when you got back in town, decided it probably wasn’t difficult to just break in and check it out one last time- but obviously when that got cut short you wanted to go back and really see it all, and what better chance would you have than asking the neighbor guy who literally works there.
His father would've probably thought you were here to find information or learn too much about freddys, but he really doesn't want a reason to believe you're here for that, and truly, he doesn't believe that at all.
Still, even though she's here for honest reasons it doesn't make it safe to get too close; get through the night and then forget her.
He stops in front of the main backstage closet/room. He hesitates before unlocking the door. He hasn’t been in here in a while but he still remembers this is where they keep old suits and parts and stuff.
A memory of dark dry blood on concrete flashes through his mind. He watches himself rhythmically run the mop across it and then pushes the whole thing out of his head.
He flashes the light along the wall beside the door to try to spot the switch and behind him he hears you slowly walk in too. He can't remember how to turn on the light, or if it even works. His flashlight beam finally falls on the switch, a few feet from the door. “One second” he says, walking over to it and testing it a couple times. Of course it doesn't work. He sweeps the light around a couple more times. The beam briefly illuminates some dusty shelves, boxes, and the concrete floor. Finally he spots a chain hanging in the far corner of the room from the ceiling.
“Is there a light in here?” you ask from behind him, he can hear your faint footfall as you slowly move further into the room. “Maybe, let me try this chain, hopefully the bulb isn't broken.” he says, crossing to it.
He shuffles past bins of stuff littering the ground and makes it to the light, yanking on the chain. Dim, yellowish light comes on from the small bulb and he sighs slightly, turning towards you. He meets your eyes before hearing the horribly loud crunch of metal and your scream. He watches you jump away from the lurching shape at your feet as hundreds of springlocks go off inside of it.
You’re both screaming as he lunges further from the old suit twitching on the ground. Frantically Michael glances around to find you. Now neither are screaming, the silence only occasionally punctured by a crack of metal on metal.
He glimpses you standing just outside of the doorway, your hands gripping your face, eyes wide and locked on the suit. He traces your gaze back across the room again and is met with an old, matted fredbear suit. It must be one of the older designs, probably a backup suit.
He had forgotten there was still one in here. He suddenly pictures what could have happened if you were any closer to the thing and flinches at the sound his imagination conjures. He knew he shouldn’t have brought you here. He should've been more careful or found you a flashlight or something.
He hears you draw in a deep breath and his attention is on you again. He carefully walks over to you at the doorway, not quite sure how to offer any comfort. You blink hard and say without taking your eyes from the suit, “why did it do that?”
“It must’ve been rusted and old. If you even bumped it a little that was probably all it took to make the springlocks go off. You know what a springlock suit is, right?” he asks. You nod, “yea, i’ve heard of the technology, i just didn’t realize it took so little to…make it malfunction.”
he can hear his father’s voice in his head
She shouldn’t be here and you know it, Michael. This is what happens- people get hurt
“Maybe you should leave” he says, the words coming out almost before he could stop them; but this is what father would have wanted him to say. Father would've used this as an opportunity to scare you out of the restaurant.
At this you look to him again with more of a determined look than a scared one. “Look, I'm sorry for…setting the thing off, but it was already broken wasn’t it?” you ask. You already seem to be less shaken now, regaining the balanced tone in your voice. Apparently his fathers tactic wouldn't have worked too well on you.
He shakes his head, “No it’s not, it isn’t you- you’re right, it was already broken, and it doesn't matter that you set them off, It's just…” you seem to be completely recovered, the look on your face only that of a raised eyebrow. You clearly don’t seem horribly concerned by your encounter a few moments ago.
As he trails off you turn back to the inside of the room and start slowly walking to fredbear. A spike of panic runs through him, but he doesn't stop you. You grow closer but still keep your distance. In the soft yellow light you seem to inspect the thing. You shift your weight to your back leg and level with it slumped on the ground. You seem to just be looking at it until you reach out towards the back panel which is slightly unzipped.
He surges forward "don't touch it!” you pull back your hand and look at him, but simply respond, “The springlocks have already gone off- and plus, i wasn’t going to press it hard enough to set them off again” you’re right, and you wouldn't have done something irrational, you’re aware of how the suits work. He wonders if maybe he overreacted before he hears you laughing.
You stand up, dusting off your hands and say, “thanks for your concern” with a smile and continue, “So where's it’s head?”
I guess she took ‘leaving’ as a light suggestion, then, he thinks but still smiles softly.
He replies, “I'm not really sure- it could have been used for parts or relocated. I’m honestly a little surprised this thing is still here and no pieces seem to be missing" especially surprised that I completely forgot it was in here. His smile falters when he hears his fathers voice, maybe you forgot because of certain things… distracting you, Michael.
“What was this room for? Just costumes and stuff?” you ask, peeking inside a large box, probably of parts, sitting on the ground. He responds, “yeah, storage, repairs, all that sort of thing” as you continue surveying the dusty old room.
—--
It’s all parts. Plenty of wires and metal pieces in the boxes, but besides the suit, nothing much of importance. You turn back to Michael who has been standing near the doorway and ask, "are there any other rooms?”
You would've liked to ask if there was an office but you still think being discreet is wise. He seems kind of casual about all this, besides when you set the springlocks off- though you can’t blame him for that, you could have very well lost a limb if things had been a little different. But when it comes to Freddy’s as a whole, he doesn’t seem too closed off. He let you come back with seemingly little thought, he offered to give you a tour. He seems to be basically as laid back as Sam had made it sound. But you still want to be sure he doesn’t have too close of ties to Fazbear or any motive to withhold information.
You've met a night guard before and he literally told you how to break in. And no, he wasn’t still working there and Michael is, but they’re just security- firstly, he can't know much- secondly, this company has basically been run into the ground its a miracle they still own the building at all, so what true motivation would he have to not tell you what he knows about the company, if anything at all?
“Theres a few more very small closets, the kitchen, the other office- that’s basically all.” he replies
You know he asked you to leave a few minutes ago but it seemed more like a suggestion and probably only for your sake after setting a springlock suit off. Mainly though, you don't want to leave just yet because you still want to check out the offices.
How are you going to search for documents or incriminating evidence with Michael watching from the doorway? Who knows. But there's a chance he still doesn’t suspect you are here for that reason, and a chance he won’t care.
You take a gamble and ask casually, “which is the next one on the tour?” hoping the answer is the office. His eyebrows raise but he still answers, “there’s a closet on the way to the office but the kitchen is on the other side of the building- so i guess the office, unless you're compelled to see some old tablecloths and plastic cutlery?”
You respond, "sounds great, lead the way” and together you head out of the room.
-
The office isn’t anything special. The walls are covered in retro wood paneling, and hung up around the room are some framed certificates and packets of papers. In the center is a bland desk with an equally bland chair rolled up behind it. The whole room is strikingly… empty. Not really a good sign.
You were hoping for papers, boxes (which are there but on a lesser scale) , maybe some old photographs of the place in its prime strewn across the walls. But none of that is here really. There's a half empty bookshelf- housing not much besides some binders and a heavy layer of dust, but that's basically it.
The “plan”, if there was even a “plan” in the first place, seems to be a flop. But also, even if there were extensive documents or newspapers you hadn't yet seen, how would you have the time to look through it all for anything remotely interesting? And especially how would that be done with someone wondering why on earth you were sifting through papers on presumably his boss’s old desk. This was a bust.
But you kind of knew that this whole time. In fact, you’ve kind of known that all these months. All the “research” and the searching and whatever it was you were doing to learn about the owner and the missing kids never amounted to much. Making it here and actually getting inside felt like a huge milestone- like you were getting somewhere.
You had always pictured the restaurant as some kind of treasure trove, that you would break in, stumble on some room filled with stacks of newspapers and pictures, and you would discover more about this elusive owner- or even if the rumours of two owners was true. Maybe something to do with animatronic malfunctions or blueprints.
This whole time you had placed your trust and hope in this place thinking that finally after all this time you could explain everything away. All of the awful things about the pizzeria would make sense and be exposed. You would finally show everyone the shady business going on here. But that sounds like a tv show or a novel. Of course you can't solve a case of missing children that is over a decade old. Of course the death of your sister will never be more complicated than that; no mystery to uncover about what went wrong in pirates cove, no one to place the blame on, nothing but the simple truth that your sister is gone and you can’t do anything besides learn to accept that.
Solving the mystery that surrounds this place won’t make your sister come back, or make what happened to her make more sense.
You take a deep breath, realizing you've just been standing here staring into the room and turn to Michael who is beside you in the doorway. You nearly start to leave but stop yourself. You’re here now, in the main office of Freddy’s- you might as well check it out. You wonder for a moment how to go about searching the place in front of him, if you really were here just for the memories or because the building was cool, you would have to make that sound like the case.
It occurs to you that you probably don't have to be so sneaky about this, like you've thought before, he's likely chill when it comes to the pizzeria, maybe even curious about its history like you are. But even though that's probably true, you aren't quite ready to commit to telling him your whole reasoning for coming here.
You settle on a slight lie, "I've always been curious about the rooms backstage as a kid” which isn’t really untrue, it just isn’t why you're here. You wander casually up to the desk and peek at the folders set off to one side. You quickly scan the small room and still don’t spot anything that you could search.
There simply isn’t anything to find in here. You decide now it really is time to wrap this up. You don't want to linger too long so you head back to the door. That is, until you spot something wedged in a floor vent, the thin corner twitching in the soft flow of wind.
You cross to it and barely grasp the thing with the tips of your fingers. When you have a hold on it, you pull it from the grate. You really hope it isn't just a piece of trash or something. What regular “tourist” would be interested in prying free a piece of whatever this is from a floor vent?
It's a cut out of a newspaper. It features a picture of two men, arms thrown across each other's shoulders, seemingly caught mid laugh. They don't quite look similar but they look likely the same age. The quality is far from good, the paper old and yellowing and their faces are blurred from smudged ink. At the bottom of the cutout are small words just barely visible before the tear.
“Openeing day with the two owners of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzaria: Henry Emily and Wil-”
Is all there is left on the torn piece of paper.
You immediately recognize who the Henry in question is: the illusive owner of the place. but even with that knowledge and having seen him in maybe one or two other poor newspaper photos, you can't say you truly recognize his face. Mainly from the lack of seeing him often but also from the slightly bad quality of the picture.
The truly exciting part though is the reference to the second owner. You realize you're actually smiling as you look at the paper and stop before you look like a lunatic. There was another owner. You have real confirmation.
Apparently, there had always been rumours of someone other than Henry involved in Freddy’s, some people even going as far as to say at one point he was a suspect in the investigation of the missing kids. But clearly that had never stuck, and the people in town forgot him as if he had been erased entirely.
You never truly invested in the idea that he was the real kidnapper of the kids, especially considering you still hadn't found definitive proof of his existence, but mainly because the people saying these rumors were true were those in online conspiracy forums trying to solve years old local crime. But the fact that you had thought you scoured every archived piece of local paper and still had never seen this strikes you as eerie. But that doesn't matter now- you finally have something to go on, something to look further into.
Michael is still by the door but is clearly curious to see what you've found so you nod him over. He looks at the cutout over your shoulder and you ask “did you know about the two owners?” hoping maybe him being an employee would mean he could shed more light on all of this.
He responds, “I had heard whispers but never anything concrete. I always assumed if there was someone else besides Mr. Emily, he probably was only there early on and left town before Freddy’s got big or something like that.”
Well, it was worth it to try asking. You fold the paper carefully in half and ask, “can I keep this?”
His eyebrows raise but he shrugs anyways so you put it gently in your coat pocket and head for the door.
He follows you out of the room, shutting off the light as he leaves.
In the hallway he says “well that's pretty much all, besides the kitchen, but I take it you aren't interested in seeing that” you shake your head and he continues, “well then that basically concludes the tour. I hope Freddy's was everything you were hoping for and more” he sounds completely serious which makes you have to stifle a laugh. “What?” he asks sincerely which makes you feel even worse for laughing. But you still catch his half smile as you both start down the hallway.
-
You walk together in silence through the restaurant, the feeling of doing so almost familiar at this point. You're back in the main room again. This time, you pass the stage without looking, instead keeping your eyes on the entrance.
When you are at the front doors, Michael unlocks one and holds it open. You pause for just a moment before heading to leave and then nod goodbye. As you pass him in the doorway, your eyes catch on his for just a second when you brush his shoulder; you're almost inclined to think there was something in the look you just shared, maybe it the way his eyes widened just slightly or the soft buzz you felt beneath your skin when you brushed past him. Either way, now you're outside in the cold now, heading out into the dark parking lot.
After a few seconds you decide to look back one more time, expecting to see nothing but the dark silhouette of the building. Michael, however, is still standing in the doorway, watching as you walk to your truck. You quickly wave and he returns it and then he’s back inside, the door closing behind him.
On the drive home, the feeling of his eyes on yours tugs at your mind. Why had you turned back, why had you felt a small rush when you saw him there in the doorway?
You don't really want to admit it but something keeps making you want to see Michael again, to get to know him. Yes it’s true he has been helpful with Freddys, being the night guard and all, but you know that isn't why your heart beats a little faster when you see him looking at you from across a room, or the reason you take nearly any chance to talk to him with little thought as to why.
A thought has been creeping up on you each time you think about him, though; it always ends, just like with Matt.
Matt was never really a good boyfriend, but he stuck around, past the point most would. And for you back then, young and alone, that amounted to much more than it was. But he left, like always. And since then, you've been too afraid to try having something with anyone else.
Just something to think on next time you see Michael, maybe caution is wise.
You decide to instead think of the newspaper back at Freddy's. It makes you almost hopeful that you really did find something there, that your efforts to dig deeper into the restaurant aren't over yet. But you still can't quite shake the feeling that things seem to be lining up, that there's something at play here that you can't understand now. The perfect timing of finding the clipping in the vent right before you leave for good. The fact that you had somehow never seen this picture in any library archive before. That this “will” character, past the smudged ink and unclear image, still strikes you as almost familiar.
You roll down the window just a crack to feel the nighttime breeze and take a breath. You feel almost as if everything is falling into place right in front of you and you can't help but smile just a little.