Chapter Text
Greg had been put off ever since Fetch had been brought back. He honestly thought the dog was gone forever when he sold it off to someone online. It’d been returned later saying the guy who’d bought it died.
There wasn’t much investigation into the connection between Fetch and the death, but a detective had asked him questions about where he’d gotten it from. Again, the fact he’d broken into Fazbear’s went ignored.
Fetch hadn’t moved since he’d been returned.
The detective, Larson, mentioned something about the dog’s battery pack being used for something else and Greg hoped it kept Fetch off. But the ominous feeling of the animatronic dog resting still in his closet freaked him out.
On another note, Fazbear’s was open. A new building, a large mall with re-branded characters. Detective Larson had actually contacted the owner about Greg breaking into the old location which he apparently owned (makes sense, if he’s re-brand though, right?) but he didn’t care too much.
Greg won’t admit it, but he broke in again a bit after that, and the whole place had been stripped of life. Everything was gone, Greg assumed, to the new location. Perhaps it was worth it to take a visit.
He had a few hundred dollars of pocket money saved up. That should at least get some investigation into Fetch done by a mechanic there or something, right? He hoped so.
The place was large, and the music was loud. A bit of sensory overload but what else could Greg expect from an 80’s themed re-branding of Freddy Fazbear’s? The building designer must’ve been very eccentric.
There was a stage with four animatronics performing. A bear, a chicken, a wolf and a crocodile; all decorated in bright mismatched colours and strange patterns. The characters seemed strangely alive, with swift human movements and human-sounding voices singing, not some programmed voice lines.
Greg read up on the “people in costumes” method the old Fazbear locations, but he figured no one nowadays would take the spring lock risk. A good mechanic at work then, that’s promising.
There was sun and moon animatronics too, though they looked too creepy for Greg to find interesting enough to get close.
A woman was walking around in a rabbit suit. The suit looked hand sewn so the spring lock threat didn’t apply to her. The face of the costume was creepy, with large red eyes.
She was being tailed by two small robots. One all white and pink with bright blue eyes and pink circles on his cheeks. The other brown-furred with green eyes and a speaker on his chest. The white and pink one being dangerously shorter than the other.
Greg started there. He approached quickly before the woman, and the toys following her could disappear.
“Excuse me!” he called. The woman froze, and the two-animatronics turned to him, a little strange but whatever. “Uh, hi!”
“Do you need help?” the woman sounded young; her voice muffled by the suit. She plucked the pink and white bear off the group and shoved him into Greg’s arms. “Take him one’s enough for me to deal with.” And she quickly walked off. The brown bear stared at Greg a moment before chasing after her.
“Hello!” The pink and white bear greeted Greg, drawing his attention to it. “My name is Helpy, and my job is to provide help for anyone that needs it!”
Greg put it on the floor but stayed low to talk to it. It felt strange. (But really, what wasn’t strange about Freddy Fazbear’s?)
“My name is Greg.” He replied.
“What can I help you with, Greg?” Helpy asked -- like a customer service worker, only with actual enthusiasm.
“Well,” He slipped his bag off his back and opened it to show the animatronic dog that’d been weighing his bag down. “I need someone to help with this.”
“Oh my!” Helpy exclaimed. “Whatever happened to him? Poor thing.”
“I’m not really sure.” Greg lies. He wasn’t sure how the small bear would react to Greg saying he smashed it with a baseball bat.
Helpy seems to think to himself for a moment. “Well then, Greg! We should take Fetch here to the Boss. He should know what to do.”
“How did you know Fetch’s name? And Boss?” the questions came out before Greg could even try to stop it.
“Boss, the owner,” Helpy explains. “And my processors have information on all past and present animatronics connected to Fazbear Entertainment or Afton Robotics Inc.” Helpy chirped tugging on Greg’s pant leg to lead him away.
Greg was nervous, but zipped up his bag, stood up and followed Helpy. The small animatronic lead him to a ‘Staff Only’ door, blocked off by a man wearing the security uniform.
“Hiya Stanley,” Helpy said up at the man. The guard, Stanley, looked like was he was sleeping a second earlier.
“H-hi, Helpy.” He croaked, clearing his throat.
“You shouldn’t be sleeping on the job,” Helpy scolded. “Especially after what happened last time.”
What the hell happened last time?
Stanley coughed and shrugged. “So, what’cha need, little guy?”
“This is Greg,” his arm practically flung out to refer to him. “He’s got an animatronic in his bag that I think Michael would want to see.”
Stanley didn’t seem that interested in Greg, giving him a passing look to judge whether or not he was a threat. “Aight then,” and he pushed the door open.
“Thank you.” Helpy beamed. “And keep an eye on Vanny today. Alec and I were following her earlier, and she seems angry.”
So, the girl in the rabbit costume was Vanny, or the character, at least, and the other bear with the speaker was named Alec. What a strange name. It seemed so normal compared to Helpy.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stanley responds, holding the door open as Helpy and Greg pass. Greg follows behind Helpy nervous about getting lost in the hallways. It was surprisingly large, a maze of hallways. Greg didn’t see a single person walk past.
“Hey, Helpy.” Greg calls.
“Yes, Greg?”
“Those animatronics on stage--”
“The Glamrocks,” Helpy corrects. A little rude, but whatever.
“Yeah- they seem so… human.”
Helpy chuckles softly. “Yes, the Boss is very talented.”
“You said his name was Michael, earlier?”
“Yep! Michael! He’s great.”
Greg grimaced. “You certainly praise your boss a lot.” Was he programmed to do that?
“Henry made me for the sole purpose of helping Michael, so it makes sense.” Now, who the hell is--? “We’re here!”
Greg jolted at the sudden exclamation. Helpy was standing in front of a door labelled “Parts & Services”.
“Helpy, how on Earth are you supposed to open any of these doors? You’re a foot and a half tall.”
“Generally, I go through the vents.” Helpy chirps happily, reaching over his head to knock on the door.
“Huh,” Greg muttered, watching the door swing open.
‘This man looks too young to be born in the 80s,’ was Greg’s first thought. He looked to be in his early twenties; a few visible, pattern-like scars decorated the sides his neck.
“Hiya, Michael!” Helpy greeted. “Have you been drinking enough water since I last checked on you?”
“I’m not that bad at taking care of myself,” Michael muttered, his eyes flicking over to Greg. There was a curious glint in Michael’s eye, mixed with something Greg couldn’t put a name too. It scared him. “Who’s this?”
“This is Greg!” Helpy responds. “He has one of the old animatronics in his bag. It’s very badly damaged.”
“Oh, you’re the Fetch kid!” Michael exclaims. “Detective Larson spoke to me about you, the kid that broke into the old location.” He continued, ushering Greg into his workshop.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So, show us what happened to Fetch.” He says, tapping an empty table encouraging Greg to put his bag down. Greg didn’t know when he did it, but Helpy was standing on the table as well.
He put his bag down and pulled out the parts of Fetch he’d shoved in his bag. “I might be missing a few pieces.” He added.
“It’s okay, would’ve had to replace a few ‘nyways.” Michael shrugged, already delving into the pieces. From the wires to the motherboard, to other pieces of plastic Greg didn’t quite know the use of.
“I don’t have much money--”
“What?” Michael looked up, seeming confused. “Nah, it’s fine.” He waved Greg off as he turned back to the beaten-up endoskeleton and the fur costume around it. “I do this kinda stuff for fun I don’t really need to money.”
Greg figured he didn’t, considering he owned the entire building, but still. He felt guilty. He never meant to steal Fetch; he wasn’t a thief! But how was he supposed to explain that to Michael?
“Kid,” Michae’s voice stunned him out of his thoughts. “Did anything weird happen with this robot? Larson told me it was in the use of some scientist guy named Phineas Taggert. They traced where he got Fetch from; you and spoke to me about it. So, I did a little digging of my own.”
Greg blinked. He what?
“I learned that a couple of weeks ago, while Fetch was technically under your possession, you were arrested for harassing a family about the girl--”
“Kimberly.”
“Right—being in danger and later she was found, dead, in your house. The only reason you weren’t arrested for murder being you were already at the police station during the time of death, and she was last seen with her family.” Michal clicks his tongue. “So, what happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” Greg argued meekly. Michael stared at him. Greg felt pressured by something in his eyes. Like he was being threatened. “Fine.” He muttered.