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Dead, he wanted to stay dead. Maybe he could play dead? The interviewer would probably think he’d need to go to an asylum. He probably needed some form of therapy at this point, but where would he begin?
Oh right! Maybe with William… or his brother’s death, or his sisters death. Cassidy had said this would be a swoop and kill mission. Round up his father’s soul, virus thing and probably burn another pizzeria down. He was pretty good at doing that but not really, since he’s back here again…
Michael tugged an extremely cheesy and totally not forced smile for the interviewer, “I appreciate meeting you and I hope that, I’ll hear from you in the future!” He didn’t want to be here, but his father is too damn stubborn to pay for his tax.
What tax exactly? Well it all started in the 80’s when he murdered children and all of him was supposed to be in hell, for all of eternity. They where all very terrible crimes and now since his Father’s soul is a virus, one of his copies should started a cult in the bank or something. Just a suggestion…
Too bad there’s no afterpay in hell.
The interviewer smiled and radiated Michael’s energy too, “You too Mike, it’s a good change of pace for the company knowing that the people who go for the job genuinely understand the risks of taking a job like this… I hope you have a great day filled fantasy and fun.” Poor guy probably skipped coffee, uh bloody hell that’s what he forgot.
It’s a good thing he brought his watermelon bubblegum with him from the afterlife.
Michael existed from the interview room and closed the door behind him. The building that Michael was currently in is the Fazbear’s entertainments headquarters. If you looked around it was pretty boring, the animatronics that were being displayed around the building where either replicas or cardboard cut outs.
In this place, you would expect there to be all the Fazbear’s mascots on display but for Michael, this wasn’t a part of his imagination. He was actually pretty disappointed. If his Father was good he would’ve probably inherited this, that was kind of weird to think about.
After a few moments, Michael cracked open his watermelon bubblegum, and sucked on it until the flavour started to disappear, and frowned.
This trip was not fun at all… it’s been a nice change actually walking around with organs again. But he had a mission of stopping his serial killer of a father from murdering kids. The puppet was supposed to be somewhere too.
He stopped to rub the back of his neck, feeling tension and doubt of what he was doing creeping up on him. “Maybe it’s time throw the bucket in and become one of those circus run aways,” he said to himself, “No matter what kids are still going to get hurt.”
I’m not thinking like an adult, I’m thinking like a depressed child with a superiority complex who’s above cleaning up their mess.
He reached the end of the hallway and turned left. He really needed a vacation.