Chapter Text
It didn’t take Michael long to spread the gasoline across the attraction. He performed without any interruptions, so he considered the first steps of the plan to have been pulled off fairly smoothly. That is, until he returned to the office.
Michael stood across from his father in the dimly lit room. It smelled of sulfur, mold, and gasoline. His plan for tonight was simple: talk to his father, drop a match, get the fuck out of there. He finally made up his mind. If he was going to die it wasn’t going to be with his father.
William’s decrepit form stared back at him with his lifeless eyes. Or, maybe they were too full of life. Michael could never look his father in the eyes for long, even in this form.
“Mi… chael…” William said, tilting his head to the side as he spoke. The sudden attempt at speech surprised Michael, but he tried not to show it.
“You’re going to finish the job now, is that it?” William rasped. Michael was amazed his father could still speak, but he knew remnant works wonders. He really hoped his theory about the fire was right. He told himself if this worked, he’d find Henry. Maybe they’d be able to make amends.
Michael didn’t show his father any emotion. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “You should’ve died years ago, William.”
William laughed, a cold, empty laugh. The jaws of the rabbit animatronic encasing him slid open as he tilted his head back, revealing the man’s skull. He laughed and laughed until all Michael could hear was his echoing cackles filling the room.
“And you should’ve been the one who died in the jaws of that fucking bear, or maybe in the clutches of my little murder machine. You should’ve gone instead of your siblings, don’t you agree?” William eyed Michael, recovering from his earlier fit. “You look far worse than me, boy.”
Michael clutched the matches close to his chest. William focused on his son’s hands, daring him to drop the first match. Michael instead sank to the floor, gesturing for William to do the same. Begrudgingly, William followed his son’s lead. What else was he going to do?
“You’ve always hated me. Why did you have children in the first place? Why would you do any of this?” Michael began. He had so many questions for his father, and he needed closure before putting him to rest.
William scoffed, agonizingly turning his head to the side away from Michael. William finally found his voice. “You really expect me to just answer any silly question you have?”
Michael furrowed his brows. He went to light a match, challenging William.
“I never loved you. Or your mother. Or your siblings. Looking back, I’m not sure why I made the first moves for a family. It upset Henry,” William chuckled lightly. “Maybe that’s why I did it. I wanted to see how Henry would react to a life without me.”
Michael didn’t like this answer. Why would Henry dislike his father’s efforts to start a family? He didn’t understand, but he continued listening.
“That’s why I killed Charlotte, too. Well, part of it. She was in the way, Henry loved her too much. I didn’t know Henry would… react so strongly. To me she was just an obstacle, taking Henry’s attention away from what really mattered.”
William continued. “I still don’t understand his reaction to her death. He was out of work for weeks, you know. Not sure if you remember, frankly I myself don’t remember how old you were then. I certainly didn’t react that way when the youngest of my own died. What was his name…”
Michael clenched his jaw. “Evan.” It was clear William was trying to get a rise out of Michael, and sadly it was working. But Michael had changed since the last time they’d spoken like this. He checked his watch briefly, making sure his shift wasn’t over just yet. He had plenty of time. And he was going to use it all to interrogate his father, to rip his final words from his throat.
“And the children. Do you have anything to say about those lives you stole?” Michael asked.
“Not much, really. People die sometimes,” William answered, taking time to cough out the words. It was clear the man wasn’t doing well.
“Children. They were children. Your youngest victim was a toddler, William,” Michael said, shaking at the thought of his father’s actions. That bastard.
“Don’t you think you’re hot shit, huh? Calling me by my first name. You truly never respected me,” William said. Michael could feel his disdain radiating from the animatronic shell.
“Not like any of that matters now. After all, you think you’re going to kill me tonight,” William said.
“I know I am,” Michael replied, starting to stand up from his position. William followed, clearly not ready to just sit down and take this.
Michael’s eyes widened at his father’s sudden movements, and he backed away as William attempted to lunge forward. Michael was faster. He quickly stepped toward the door, lighting a match as he went. His father, recovering from his failed attack, looked up at his son in confusion then realization.
“Goodbye, father. Burn in hell,” Michael said, dropping the match into a puddle of the flammable liquid on the floor beneath his father’s prison. Michael turned and ran out of the building, ignoring the smell of burning flesh and the screams that came from his father. He won. Finally.
Michael sat outside the building for a while after that. He had time before anyone would come by, so he spent it watching Fazbear Frights, the Horror Attraction, burn to the ground. The smoke above the building billowed into the night, wispy and ever dissipating. The glow from the flames illuminated Michael’s tired eyes as he watched the scene before him. By the time someone finally came by to open the attraction, Michael was gone, just like the building.