Chapter Text
“How do you feel?”
“I… can’t feel my legs.”
“That’s normal, you’ll get that back shortly. Any other problems?”
“N… No. Not that I can detect, Sir…”
“Good, good. Any other questions before we proceed?”
…
“Very well, then we-”
“Why did you make me?”
…
“Sir?”
“End log. Turn the recorder off.”
“But S-”
It was still dark when he woke up. At first, he thought he might’ve woken up before he needed to, that the sun wasn’t up yet, and that he could go right back to sleep. He rolled over, hugging his covers close to his body. So warm, so soft… if he were a cat, he would’ve purred. He smiled, feeling his senses start to blur, letting himself lull back into a peaceful sleep...
Then the alarm’s snooze went off.
Mike groaned.
Apparently he didn’t wake up early, he woke up when he was supposed to. 7AM. Ugh. He yawned, sitting up and stretching to try and wake himself up. Why was it so dark out, when the sun’s usually up at this hour? He looked over to the window.
He hadn’t noticed it before, but there was a steady, soft series of taps at the window, and Mike’s stomach sank. When he pulled the blinds out of the way to see outside, his fears were confirmed. It was raining: the sky dark and drops rapping against the window. It threw him back to memories of childhood, watching the rain go and letting drops “race” each other as they slid down the window at the same time. The thought now made him shudder. He hated getting wet. It was cold and damp and made his clothes cling to him and- he just hated it.
His snooze went off for a second time, pulling Mike from his thoughts, and he realized he forgot to shut the alarm clock off. He huffed, making sure it was fully off and not just prepared for a third snooze, and stepped away from the window. He has work in an hour, better get ready for the day.
The morning routine was always the same: brush teeth, go to the bathroom, get changed… he’ll shower later, since he’s gonna get soaking wet once he leaves the house. He let himself zone out, going through the motions and letting muscle memory take over.
He stepped downstairs and into the kitchen, eyeing the paperwork on the counter. A series of bills were lined before him, and the amount in each total made him visibly cringe.
“I know, I know. Maybe I should go into robotics too, actually earn a decent salary so we’re not constantly making minimum wage.”
Mike looked over to the source of the voice, finding his twin brother sitting at the table with a cup of coffee. Despite everything that had happened throughout their lives, Scott and Michael were always together. That thought always put Mike at ease, that no matter what they’d gone through, he had his brother through it all. “Y’know what, bro? I think I can get behind that. Go into robotics, make 6 figures, then we can finally ditch this town and- I don’t know, what do the rich do? Go yacht sailing?”
Scott laughed, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his face “Probably! Finally, we’ll be the infamous yacht twins! No more paying off this old house’s mortgage, we’ll live a life of luxury on the seas! Where do we wanna go? West coast? East coast?”
“West Coast, probably.” Mike played along to the fantasy, grabbing a box of cereal from the pantry and pouring its contents into a bowl. “I’ve always wanted to go to a place with real snow, so maybe up north.”
“We get snow here sometimes.” Scott replied, raising an eyebrow.
“I want REAL snow, bro! Not just some flurries or maybe an inch every now and again! I wanna go up where there’s REAL winters! What about Seattle? I heard that place is big in the sailing industry!”
“Hmmmm…” He hummed, adjusting his glasses in thought “Maybe, maybe… but Seattle’s also known for constantly getting rain, and I know just how much you hate rain~”
Mike grimaced, shaking his head “Don’t remind me… Eh, become a famous and rich robot maker first, then we can talk about leaving Nowheresville, Utah.” He stuck his tongue out, finally pulling them from their fantasies as he grabbed the carton of milk from the fridge. It wasn’t too long after its expiration date… Mike sniffed it, trying to see if he can smell if it spoiled or not. … It was probably fine, he probably won’t get sick if he uses it. He poured it into his bowl of cereal, grabbing a spoon and joining Scott at the table.
Scott took another sip of his coffee, letting a peaceful silence wash over them as they enjoyed their small breakfast. After a few minutes, he spoke up “… Do you really want to leave Hurricane?”
Mike paused, not expecting the sudden question. He thought about it for a moment. They joked about it earlier, but were they secretly serious? Do they really want to leave the place they’d spent their entire lives? “… I dunno. Maybe?” It was an honest answer. He thinks he wants to leave, but he isn’t sure. “It could be nice to see the world, or at least the country, while we’re still young. I’ve never seen an ocean before, I think I’d like to do that before I die. And… okay, promise you won’t laugh at what I’m about to say.”
“Promise.”
“Well uh,” Mike chuckled to himself, face flushing in embarrassment to what he was about to admit. “I’ve been reading a lot of books on the Appalachians… you know, the mountain range out east? Well there’s this- it’s called the Appalachian Trail. It’s a trail that follows the mountain range and goes from Georgia to Maine… it takes a few months to hike, obviously, but… I don’t know, it sounds kinda fun… getting lost on the trail for a few months, just yourself and nature… I know, I know, it’s really silly-”
“It’s not silly.” Scott interrupted, smiling in a way that always calmed Mike down “I think it’s neat, actually. … Maybe, if we save up enough… we can head out east and do your trail for a few months, then we’ll move out west by the ocean and spend however long we want over there. Sound like a plan?”
Mike smiled… but that feeling quickly faded and he let it drop “What about you? Isn’t there anywhere you’d rather go?”
“… Dunno.” The blonde twin shrugged, swirling his coffee in his mug while he thought about it “I… never really thought about leaving Hurricane before. We’ve just… spent our whole lives here, I’m just so used to being here… I mean, I think I wanna leave, but where would we go? The country is so big, let alone the world. If I were to go, I don’t know where I’d go… so I’d probably just follow you, to be honest. Someone’s gotta cover your ass when you get in trouble, no~?”
“Shut up, dork!” Mike laughed, shoving another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, and let himself fall back into a trance of thought. He’d seen so many pictures of the country in his books: all of the mountains, lakes, deserts, oceans, America was really so different depending on where you went. … Maybe he’d consider visiting England, since that’s where his Father came from…
… His eyebrows furrowed as he pondered that last thought. “… Where do you think he went?”
Scott looked up, taking a moment to understand the question, but quickly came to the right conclusion “Father? … You mean, other than six feet under?”
Mike took a breath, struggling to find the words to respond with. Well, he partially got his answer, considering Scott was under the assumption their Father was dead.
Scott picked up on this. “You think he’s still alive?”
The brunette twin shrugged, avoiding eye contact as he stared down at the mostly empty bowl before him “Maybe? Probably not? I don’t know. They- They never found a body, so he might be still… out there, somewhere…” He felt a twinge in his chest, and his heart ached at the thought of their father just… leaving without saying goodbye.
“Well if he is alive, he owes us a LOT of mortgage payments. This is technically his house, not ours, and I’m pretty annoyed that we gotta pay all of the bills just so we can still live here.” He huffed, but it was clear his frustration was surface-level, while deeper down, a solemn feeling crept up. “… Do you think he did it?”
Mike went stiff, the air between the twins suddenly much more tense. They didn’t need to go into more detail, they knew what the topic was about. Nearly 15 years ago, 5 children went missing in a Freddy Fazbear’s. Before then, one child- Charlie Emily’s own brother- was found dead outside of Fredbear’s Family Diner. Police believe the crimes are linked to the same murderer. The murderer was never found, nor were the 5 children’s bodies, and the case went cold. Rumors always circulated over who did it… Mike could vaguely remember being a young child and having a bunch of cops ask him a bunch of questions he didn’t know the answers to.
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Mike cleared his throat “I don’t know. I hope not. I mean… what if the same guy who murdered those kids ended up murdering our father, too? Since his body was never found either.”
“Or maybe he went into hiding because he didn’t want to be caught.” Scott retorted, a bitter tone in his voice to match the coffee.
“But what about Henry?! He killed himself after those kids went missing! You don’t think he did it and was trying to hide from it, do you?!”
Scott sighed, shaking his head “I don’t know… Maybe one of them did it… Maybe they were in on it together? Maybe they’re both innocent, I wish we knew…”
“Do you really think Dad could’ve done it, though?! I-I mean,” He clenched his shirt, his heart throbbing and aching “I know he wasn’t the best dad, b-but that doesn’t mean he’s some child murderer-!”
Scott grimaced, looking towards the ground as he wrapped his arms around himself “They always say you never suspect the one that did it…” His blue eyes looked dark in the light, as if the life drained from them momentarily. “I want to believe he’s innocent, but… we’ll never know, will we?”
“… Guess not.” Mike took his empty bowl and placed it in the sink, rinsing it out with water and placing it in the drying rack. “I uh- better head to work.”
“… Listen, Michael.” Scott frowned, standing up to place a hand on his twin’s shoulder “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down like that. I think we’re all just- still not over this, since the case was never closed. I-I wanna believe he’s innocent, too.”
Mike let himself smile, although it was somber “I know, I know… We’ll never know, but… hey, no matter what, we’re not murderers and we’ll always have each other, yeah?”
The smile was contagious, the blonde couldn’t help but reciprocate it “Yeah, at least we’ve got each other.” Unable to stand the distance between them, Scott grabbed the brunette and pulled him into a tight hug “I love you, Mikey.”
Mike couldn’t have returned the hug sooner, holding his twin close. He felt himself get choked up, but no tears fell. “I love you too, bro.” They stayed there for a while, though Mike eventually pulled away, walking over to their coat rack to grab a rain jacket “I’ll be back later, alright?”
“Stay dry, dorko!” Scott grinned, flashing a thumbs up.
Mike rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out, shrugging the jacket over his shoulders and pulling the hood over his head. Taking a deep breath, he then stepped outside, immediately hating the way the rain hit him. It hardly rained in Hurricane, as it’s in the middle of a desert, so no one was used to it when it did finally rain. Mike hated it, how it was cold and damp and- he knows he ranted on this earlier in the morning but he MEANS it!!! But bills don’t pay themselves, so he needs to get to work. He willed himself to start his walk down the street, keeping his head low to keep the hood overhead and his hair dry. Wet hair is a pain, wet curly hair is torture.
Usually, many of his neighbors were out and about at this hour: going to work, bringing kids to school, or tending to a small lawn. Luckily, they could save their water bill for once by not needing the sprinklers out. Well, at least not everything is ruined by the rain. It was almost lifeless, as the neighborhood was staying indoors as much as possible to stay dry. Not the worst thing, though, as Mike can just focus on getting to work as swiftly as possible.
It only took about 5 minutes to walk to downtown, and Mike was grateful for the short commute, and quickly walked inside the employee entrance of the local supermarket. It wasn’t exactly an exciting job; just stocking goods and sometimes manning one of the registers, but it paid the bills. He also often got coupons out of it, which helped lower their grocery bills. He certainly doesn’t want to do this for the rest of his life, but it’ll do for now, a paycheck is a paycheck.
He often tunes out during work, mindlessly completing tasks and occasionally turning his brain back on to chat with his co-workers or shoppers he recognized. Hurricane was a pretty small town, and there were often tourists driving straight through it, but few stopped to go shopping here instead of a gas station, so it was pretty rare that Michael wouldn’t recognize a shopper. Everyone had been very nice to him and his brother, though he wouldn’t say he was exactly close with the neighborhood.
After the incident at Freddy’s all those years ago, no one really talked to the Aftons or Emilys as much. Especially since the case went cold and both William and Henry are gone, rumors were rampant and the town didn’t know who to trust. They knew the twins and Charlie were as innocent as could be, but they had their fathers’ legacy constantly looming over them. It felt like the only ones who seemed to look past all of that was Clay Burke: Hurricane’s chief of police. Ironic, considering he was one of the ones investigating the case, but at least he was kind enough to separate those horrible events from the kids. Michael was always grateful for that, growing up.
The day came and went, and at 3PM he clocked out and head home for the day. By this point it had stopped raining, so Mike could at least keep his hood down while walking home. The streets were still wet, puddles lining the sidewalk. Desert soil doesn’t absorb water well, so puddles usually stayed a long time after a rainstorm. Well, at least Mike could avoid the puddles.
When he got back at his house, there was no one there to greet him. His brother worked a 9 to 5, so Mike was used to having some alone time after his own job. He usually killed the time by napping or watching TV, but this time he grabbed a book from the shelf. He walked over to the living room, flopping on the couch that had to have been older than him, and flipped the book open to where the bookmark was.
This was told from the perspective of the author as she and a small group of hikers did the Appalachian trail. They were starting in Georgia and going northbound (NOBO, is the term they used), and were now climbing Mt. Greylock, which happened to be the highest elevation point in Massachusetts. Mike sighed, losing himself in imagination over what it must be like to go there… so much greenery, all those trees and lakes, to be in a place that actually retains moisture… though, the humidity is probably hell. But natural shade from the sun! Oh, to have soft dirt under his feet…
Soft dirt, perfect for hiding the entrance to a bunker. Off the beaten path, a trail no longer accessible to the public, no one would ever know.
Mike startled, sitting up sharply. What the fuck was that-?! Mike shivered, putting the book aside and carding a hand through his curls to gather his thoughts. Okay, that was… weird. Why did he think something like that? It didn’t even make any sense… though, for a second, Mike could almost picture the place he had described. An unkept trail, no signs of being used for years, and underneath some loose dirt and foliage was a rusty hatch, seeming to be the entrance to something underground.
Why the hell would he imagine something like that?
He doesn’t remember ever going to a place like that, so that had to be his imagination, right? But if it was his imagination, why was it so… familiar…? Something wasn’t right. Ugh, this is what he gets for going back to thinking of those missing kids, now his brain’s all paranoid.
The answers are in the basement.
… What… was that…
Michael had no idea why that thought came to mind. They only used their basement for storage, why did he think something important was down there? Well… guess it wouldn’t hurt to check, would it? Especially since the urge to look down there was overwhelmingly strong, Mike didn’t know if he could resist even if he wanted to.
The stairs to the basement were wooden and creaked with every step he took. The basement itself was damp, cold, and probably full of spiders, but that’s a normal basement. When their father still lived at home, the basement was his makeshift workshop: designing all sorts of machines for Afton Robotics. Now that he’s been gone for years, the basement has gone completely unused, other than for storage.
Mike flipped the switch, and was grateful that the bulb didn’t burn out as the room lit up. Everything stayed right where they left it: many of William Afton’s blueprints and prototypes still lying around. They didn’t know what else to do with them, so they just left them to rot here. Boxes full of old family photos, seasonal decorations, and old toys that belonged to their younger siblings took up a majority of the space, though Michael tried not to stare at them too long.
Why did he even come down here? He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, and he already knows everything that they kept down here.
… Wait.
Almost everything.
Mike ran over to the side of the room where their father’s old tools and supplies were kept, rummaging through each cabinet. He knew they kept it here somewhere… … Aha! Mike grinned, pulling out a small, black box, held shut by a combination lock. This was on the desk when they first went through the basement years ago, and Mike thought it’d be better to store it away since he didn’t know the combination. But… he still doesn’t know the combination. There are 5 numbers, each going from 0-9… that’s easily 100,000 combinations, he couldn’t just brute-force it.
No, no, he knows the combination… he’s seen it before!
Memories came flooding back, and in a split second, he could see his father again. A memory from years ago, at least a decade. He watched his father put in each number individually, and something inside of him told him that his Father wanted Michael to see this, to know the combination.
Mike felt his hands move as if on their own, placing in each number like muscle memory.
7. 6. 3. 2. 7.
And just like that, the lock came undone.
Mike tilted his head. Something about the number felt familiar… then it clicked. Reversed, the number was 72367. July 23, 1967. That’s the day he and his brother were born. It was… kind of sweet, actually, to realize their dad used their birthday (albeit backwards) as a combination.
Enough sentiment, Mike chided to himself as he put the lock off to the side, hands resting on the box. Dust was settled on the top, and his hands shook as he guessed what could have been waiting inside. Well… now he can know, so no use wasting more time. He opened the box.
Inside, there was only one small object. A cassette tape, no year on it, and rewound to the beginning of the tape. There was a label on it, words written in Sharpie.
“For Michael”, it said.
It was his father’s handwriting.