Chapter Text

Everything is supposed to be fine now, Vanny is gone, Gregory is safely living with Freddy, and the rest of the Glamrocks are only passive-aggressive against the child, so it should have been a great day. But it's not fine, or a great day, because now Vanessa has to go into the fucking basement. She was just freed from a shitty video game and now has to go into the definitely haunted basement that no one knew about, great. 

She travels down the stairs with nothing but her phone as a flashlight because guess what? Vanny changed the passcode to her locker. Which is wonderful when you're trying to get your taser so that you don't die in the murder basement, just great!

She is so tired, once she's out of here she's sleeping until the night shift starts, end of discussion. Vanessa hits a rickety elevator, how inviting. She turns back, calls it a day, and almost makes it up the stairs but...

Gregory was sure something was down here, what if it's dangerous? She couldn't imagine the kid getting hurt because of her negligence. So she turns around and enters the elevator. She decides to check her emails. Fucking hell, Jacob just quit, whining about how the kids were 'too mean to him'. How do you get bullied by fucking two-year-olds? He didn't even leave a two-week notice. Well, there goes her day plans, now she has to work the day shift until she can find a replacement, cause there's no way in hell the owner's gonna do shit about it. No one knows what they even look like, just that they bought this place and distribute the paychecks. 

The elevator comes to a janky stop. Vanessa looks out to see..! Fog, it's just fog, amazing. She walks over to a generator and watches as the fog clears to reveal another generator. Clearly thrilled about this death trap Vanessa begrudgingly follows along the fog generator trail until she reaches... wait this can't be real, right? The idea is so bizarre but she looking right at the sign saying " Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place". There is an entire restaurant underneath the Pizzaplex! What. the. hell. She enters the rundown pizza place with an amused look. Of course, this is down here, because why wouldn't it be?! She lets out a stressed laugh and dives further into the pizzeria. 

The halls are cramped, decorated with tacky posters of Lollies and Wart paste; whoever ran this place was a total sellout. Vanessa's footsteps echo as she checks every room. Some have jets connected to the floor, others have speakers close to the vents. Other than that, the rooms are completely empty. There aren't even scraps of old animatronics. Heck, there's not even ashes! This place isn't even abandoned. It's like nothing lived here at all. She searches for hours looking for anything dangerous, interesting, anything to prove this trip wasn't a massive waste of time but nothing! There is jackshit! Not even an animatronic! What kind of Fazbear establishment doesn't even have animatronics!? Combine that with the weird as fuck layout (so many vents that just go nowhere) and the fact that the place had one main exteremally decorated room and all the others haven't even been floored makes this place is officially the weirdest Freddy's Vanessa has ever been to.

If Vanessa was in a better mood she might question the purpose of this entire building, but Vanessa is not in a good mood. Vanessa has a splitting headache that she can't even sleep off because she has to open the Pizzaplex in two hours. How the fuck is she supposed to do seven day and night shifts back to back? Hell, she'll probably do more since no one wants to fucking work here. The overworked secerity guard-turned-manager lets out a sigh and looks up. She is in some type of back room, and it's big, almost as big as the main entertainment area. She sees an exit door, as well as a giant tank of some kind next to a heavy-duty generator. There's a map next to the exit, showing that Vanessa has been into every room except one, and the entrance is right behind her. She tries the door only to find it locked. At this point, anyone else would just turn around and go home- heck, Vanessa on a good day would turn around and go home! But today wasn't a good day, and she didn't just spend three hours meticulously searching every room for the potential of something dangerous only to back down to a locked door. 

She kicks the door, despite it being metal. After a good minute, she looks around and finds a crowbar. She is not losing to a fucking door! She leverages the crowbar underneath the door and jumps on it. The door flies up but quickly comes crashing down. Vanessa is not taking this and quickly stands the crowbar up. With the door supported, she crawls underneath and enters the room.

At first, she sees nothing. "I swear if there is nothing down here I'm locking Gregory in Roxy Raceway." She turns on her flashlight to find a body, a dead body, lying there, rotting. God, how did she not notice the smell? It's wearing a faded security outfit and is just dead. The rotten skin tone mixes perfectly with the black carpet and shadowy room.

Vanessa stares into it's empty eye sockets. She screams when they stare back.

Michael woke up. That in itself was surprising. It was completely dark like everything was shut down. He tried to start the computer, but nothing worked. His best guess was that the fire didn't get to him, or it left really quickly. Henry didn't design this place to burn the volunteer, so it made sense why he didn't pass on. He tried opening the door, but nothing. So he decided to get some sleep. He hadn't slept in... who knows how long, not since he got scooped. He was really lucky to have that ability again. That's how Michael spent his time, slipping in and out of conciseness, doing nothing, for years. Until a woman crawled underneath the door and he finally saw a face. She has blond hair and green eyes; she looks like Lizzie.

He doesn't realize he's staring until she starts screaming. "No- Wait- I'm sorry!" He starts sputtering as he tries to get up only to take a crowbar to the face.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME? TRY ME MOTHER FUCKER! I'M RUNNING ON THREE BOTTLES OF RED BULL AND KILLED A PROGRAM WITH A FUCKING TORCH!" She goes for another swing with her crowbar. Michael barely dodges.

"Hold- Hold on! I'm not here to hurt you!" She arches the crowbar over her head. Michael flinches, covering his face and bracing himself, but the blow never comes.

"Who are you? Why are you down here?"

"I'm Michael-" He said too much, but his sudden cut-off only made him more suspicious. He can feel her glare become more deadly with every second.

"Michael?"

"Emily, Michael Emily," What, "But call me Mike." He considers answering her second question, "And I worked here."

 "Of course you did, "She takes a deep breath, "Of course you fucking did. I spent 3 hours in this creepy ass basement only to find a security guard that worked for minimum wage!"

"What?"

"I was expecting something dangerous like a haunted animatronics or some sewer mutant, not," She waves her arm in his direction, "This!" She glares at him like he's the cause of all her frustrations. 

"My apologies," He says sarcastically, "I wasn't aware that a decayed skin person is disappointing." He stands up and brushes off his shirt. She starts scanning him before deciding it's not worth the effort.

"Whatever, less work for me anyway." She lodges the crowbar under the door and puts her foot on it.

"Here, let me help." 

She gives him a confused look, "You weigh less than a quarter." She jumps on the crowbar, launching the door up. Michael quickly jumps through the exit, knocking the blond over. "Hey! Asshole!" He sees the door closing and quickly grabs it.

"Here." He says in an unsteady voice. The weight of the door is crushing his palms. It feels like at any moment the universe will remember he's just skin and crush him unceremoniously. The woman exits and Michael lets the door drop. She checks her watch.

"Fuck," She turns to Michael, "We have to get out of here, now!" Michael doesn't want to wait to find out why. They run, sprinting past the main room and the generators til they hit an elevator. One of the doors opens and they charge inside. The elevator starts up. Michael slumps down while the girl leans against the doorway. 

It's only now Michael realizes just how sore he is. Memories of aching muscles and heavy lungs fill up his senses. He turns to his companion. She wearing a security guard outfit, dark bags under her eyes. "I never caught your name."

She stops her panting, "It's," She takes a moment to catch her breath, "Vanessa. My name is Vanessa." She looks at him, "How are you exhausted? Do, do you have lungs."

"No," He answers, "Just memories," He collects his thoughts, "What were we running from anyway?"

"Nothing, I just have to open the Pizzaplex in an hour." Michael just stares at her. She starts to squirm a bit. "Why are you just staring at me." 

"We weren't in danger? At all?"

"No,"

"In Freddy Fazbears?"

"Yeah?" Michael slumps. His gaze turns to the wall and doesn't move. He tries to process everything while Vanessa just stands there awkwardly. Why would she have such urgency if it was just for her job? What's the 'Pizzaplex'? How long has he been gone? The elevator stops. "Give me a fucking break." She presses buttons on her... watch? What? Does she have a screen on her watch? How? A voice sounds from the watch.

"Vanessa? Are you alright?" The voice is deep and robotic. Any good will it holds dies in Michael's ears. He can only hear the dead depth of his performance. The laugh as Freddy travels down the hall, heading to his office. He knows it's Freddy. He's not sure how, but he does. He jumps away from the voice, causing the elevator to shake. Vanessa gives him a confused look before a new voice draws her attention to the watch.

"You're OK! Did you find anything?" They sound like Evan They sound like a young kid, full of spunk. Vanessa turns the watch's face to Michael. "Woah! Freddy look at that!" Michael hisses at the animatronic's name. Vanessa looks offended.

"Did you just hiss at me?!"

"Take me back."

"What?"

"Take me back down, now!"

She huffs, "I can't take you down even if I wanted to!" She turns her attention to the watch. "Gregory I need you to gather the main 4 and have them hoist us up to the entrance."

"What?!" Michael remembers panic, he remembers the way his lungs feel like they're gonna explode. The way his heart tries to leave his chest, and his vision starts to blur. Why does he remember this so vividly? 

Funtime Foxy has already been here today.

No no no. Fuck that, Fuck that! He's not letting that happen again, Ever! "Take me down."

"I will, OK? But we have to go up first." 

Funtime Freddy has already been here today.

Michael backs against the wall, "Let be down right now I swear to God!"

Ballora has already been here today.

"Look, I can't, Okay?! I'll let you down once I get off!"

Circus Baby has already been here today.

He's spent too many nights with those things. He can't... He won't go through that again, "No, you have to do it now! Please!" He's on the verge of tears. Vanessa looks at him in sympathy. She checks her watch and looks back at him, "It'll only be for a few moments, I promise."

The scooper only hurts for a moment.

Michael slams himself into the side of the elevator, rocking it into the wall. "What the fuck are you doing?!" Vanessa screams. Michael slams himself into the wall again, trusting Fazbear's shotty equipment to do the work for him. "Stop it!" Vanessa tackles him to the ground.

"Listen to me-"

"No you listen to me! I have had the worst week, month, time frame, whatever! I am not ending this by dying in an elevator because some purple fuck's scared of animatronics!"

"I am not staying another night in a fucking Freddy Fazbears!" The elevator starts heading up. Michael panics. He hits Vanessa as hard as he can, desperately trying to bang the elevator against the wall. Vanessa tanks the hit but he can hear the damage he's already done to the rope. Vanessa pins him to the ground. He uses his other arm to push himself up and slam her against the wall. She holds him in a choke hold, which does nothing but poorly restrain him. He grabs her box thing (It also has a screen?) and tries to hit her head. She dodges and grabs both of his wrists, keeping one behind his back and the other over his head.

The elevator stops shaking but the damage to the rope is already done. The metal box stops ascending and the rope frays and snaps. Michael thinks he's won until a robotic arm claws through the door. Vanessa grabs it, jumps out, and looks back at Michael. Something grabs him and pulls him out of the elevator right before it falls, destroying his one escape. He kicks it hard. The arm lets him go and he hears a loud, autonomic, groan. He picks himself up and looks at his attackers. There's Freddy, now with an electric blue color scheme. Chica, in pink and white without her cupcake. A gator, for some reason, and a discount Foxy with green hair. They all look like they're ready to attack, except Freddy, who just seems confused and in pain. He looks for an exit but there isn't one. He had nothing to defend himself with.

This is it. Years, literal years spent fighting these things, freeing these things, they were going to kill him. He was going to die, after everything, he was going to meet the same violent end as the rest of the Aftons. 'You never even found out what happened to Evan'. He can feel the tears welling in his eyes, but he knows they're not there.

He looks up. They should have attacked by now, but they haven't. They've backed up, giving him distance. He looks around, meeting the eyes of Freddy. The bear looks like a weight lifter, ready to suplex Michael at any moment. 

"Are you ok?" He sounds concerned like he actually cared. Mike scoffs at the idea, he's not a child, he never was. But the animatronics were treating him like they would a frightened child. Why? "You seemed to be having a panic attack." Freddy answers as if he can read his mind. His voice is soothing, it reminds him of the therapist he would pass by in the hospital. Freddy's friends seemed to relax once the bear points this out. They all look at him with concern. None of them were going to kill him. The only one who looks like they might kill him is Vanessa.

"What the fuck was that stunt?!" All the animatronics simultaneously berate her on her language. "You almost killed me!"

Michael takes a deep breath, "I'm... not apologizing. You didn't tell me this was a Fazbear establishment."

"No no, they just built some random mall on top of a pizzeria." Vanessa answers sarcastically, "What's your problem with Freddy's anyway?"

Michael sighs, "Let's just say I used to work security."

"Perfect. You owe me for that elevator stunt."

"What do you-" Vanessa shoves a security guard outfit into his arms. "No, No, I'm not working here for another five nights!"

"Then you can work the day shift."

"I'm literally purple! You can't have a pile of skin work the day shift!" The animatronics seem to be enjoying this. Freddy is trying to take both sides but failing, Chica's eating trash out of a trash can like popcorn, and the other two are silently rooting for their champion, the wolf on his side and the gator on Vanessa's.

"Says who?"

"Society? Children? The Law of Advertising?"

"You didn't listen to the Laws of Physics so why do I have to listen to the Law of Stable Business Practices?"

"Because you need a stable business?"

Vanessa sighs, "Look, everyone else quit so all I'm left with is the stupid staff bots and they need a human supervisor. I can't work seven day and night shifts back to back so can you just do this? It will only be for a week." Michael knows what it's like to have to run everything by yourself. From being forced to be a manager at Jr's Pizza place to running his own business, he understands how hard it is to handle everything. Vanessa looks tired too, like she hasn't slept in seven days straight.

"Fine, when does my shift start?"

She tosses him the keys. "30 Minutes ago." He grumbles as she walks away.

"Wait that's it? No training, no nothing?"

"\You've got experence. Besides, it's going to be a slow day." She starts up the stairs, "Just spend your first week getting acquainted with the main animatronics and their areas. I'm gonna take a power nap til the night shift." She walks up out of sight.

A lean Chica places her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," She says, "Well help you get settled and you'll fit right in!" He sighs at the non-killer animatronic's attempt at comfort. 

Freddy chimes in "That's right, we'll do everything we can to make you feel comfortable here." Michael gives Freddy a thankful smile.

Vanessa calls down from the stairway, "By the way, you might want to get changed. Doors open in five minutes."

"Oh, Shi-" Michael rushes up the stairs, putting on the new shirt over the old one.

Chapter Text

The job is actually quite different form any other security jobs. He has a watch now, and it's connected to all the cameras. The S.T.A.F.F bots send him notifications and updates on literally everything they do since he's the only employee. What happened to everyone? Vanessa just said that they all quit, or were replaced by S.T.A.F.F bots. Apparently the manager fired everyone before quitting himself. It's super sketchy if you ask him.

Michael is rewatching the show from the tech booth. Parents and kids alike crowd around the stage. The kids are excited about their favorite characters and the parents are filled with good old 80's nostalgia. At least, that's what he thinks, he's full of nostalgia anyway. He's waiting for one of the animatronics to come pick him up. Since he's the only one on staff he doesn't need to stay in a security office, although he's not sure if that's a good thing. The show feels like a live concert, how expensive is this place? The animatronic movement is incredible! Michael has never seen such realism, not even from the Funtimes! And their A.I's are even more advanced, they feel like real people! How much time has passed since he's seen someone work on these things? 

He starts reminiscing about the past. About how dad would show Elizabeth the ins and outs of the animatronic joints. Michael would watch from the doorway till Mom would call him to the kitchen. Evan was always there, watching. Lizzie would love these things, he can hear her gawking at the thin physics and stomach hatches. (He remembers the pigtailed animatronic staring at him from across the table, the green dots of eyes. The lies, the tricks, the desperate attempts to take his life.) Then mom would call dinner and they would sit around the table, as if they were a family, he huffs a laugh at the idea, they were never a family.

"What'cha thinkin' about?" He yelps in surprise, falling out of his chair. Chica gives him a big smile. He would have preferred to have a guide that didn't bring back horrific memories, but he rushed out the door before the meeting started. He stares at her for a bit.

He slowly starts to speak and sits himself up, "Just how advance you all are." 

Chica smiles at the complement, "Why thank you!" She looks out the window. "So where do you want to go first?" He looks out to all the attractions. There's so much stuff, where does he start? This place is much bigger than any other location he's seen. Who approved of this? He knew that Freddys was a sellout but that was mainly because the owners were worried about... other things. She takes his silence as an indecisive answer. "Lets head to Mazercise! That's my signature place!" He nods, letting Chica guide him by the arm while he checks the cameras. "You're moving through those cameras really quickly." 

He doesn't look up. "Practice." 

"Well you're really skilled." He notices that they're walking faster now, but he just focuses on the cameras. He double checks them before looking around, part of his reflex. It doesn't occur to him that a purple man next to one of the main characters might attract attention. One of the moms in particular finds him increasingly disgusting every second she looks at him. Her curly red hair frames her offended face as Chica rushes him to Mazercise. 

The place is quite full. Some mom is hosting a pilates class. The speakers above encouraging eating while you're working out. Sneaky marketing plan, but not a very good workout routine. He wonders if any of them are jealous, he is pretty thin. Then again, they might be staring because he's purple. Why did Vanessa think it was a good idea to put him on day shift again?

Chica pipes up for her introduction."This is Mazercise, the best place to work out while eating pizza!" She takes a slice from the snack counter. "Delicious Pizza!" She eagerly takes a bite (How is that possible?). Her eyes light up, robotic pupils dilating at the taste. She turns to the snack counter and Michael tighten his grip. There no way he's spending money on a cardboard cut-out with yellow slime on it. He just wanted a tour not some faz-scam.

Chica seems to love it though because she lunges for the pizza. He stumbles and barely regains his footing. If he had bones she might have dislocated his shoulder (Don't think about that, you might think she did). He surprised that his strength is enough to hold her back. She stares at him for a few seconds before apparently coming back to reality.

"Oh, My!" Chica screeches, "I didn't mean to leave you hanging! I just got distracted by the-"

"Yeah I get it." He didn't want her to go haywire again, "Lets just go... somewhere else." Somewhere where there isn't food. 

"Somewhere else? But we haven't even gone through the maze yet! How about we grab a-"

"No no no, it's just," He looks around the room, "I don't think these people want us to interrupt their exercise."

"But we're not bothering them." Chica whines. Michael disagrees. If he can get fired because of odor when he just stayed in the office and only worked the night shift he's probably bothering the customers. He give Chica a look and gestures to himself. She scoffs, but leaves with him anyway. Her face lights up once they exit Mazercise. "Let's head over to El Chips!" Michael did not want to go to El Chips. He's trying to think of somewhere to go, but nothing is popping in his head. Lucky him Chica seems to have already dismissed the idea. He checks the Cameras, looking for anyplace to go. "How about we go to the kitchen?"

Mike's about to refuse but the chicken's already dragging him down the stairs. He didn't like being with Chica before and he sure doesn't like being dragged by her to a dark location. "The kitchen is fun and great and..." Michael tunes out her ramblings. He hates this so much. His eyes search for anything to attack this thing, even though he knows he's not in danger. He wants to resist, to hold on to something until she rips his arm off and run; the only thing keeping him from trying is the fact that his arm will probably come off. They finally make it to the kitchen, where a group of S.T.A.F.F bots existentially make pizza. The process is so heartless and cold, but its been that way since the beginning. The heart was always in the animatronics, everything else was run by William Afton. 

Chica seems to get distracted again, heading over to the trash compactor to.. eat trash? Wait what? Why? She's gobbling it down like she hasn't eaten in months! The way she interacts, the way she demolishes it, it's setting off all the alarms in his head. She doesn't even need to eat! She's just doing it for fun. Ripping things apart is fun for her. She tears and destroys and she doesn't even care. Can she do this to a child? If she tried, could she rip them apart? Of course she could, she's a 10 ton animatronic! He's next isn't he? He doesn't know what to do. Freddy told him that, using the Faz-watch, he could contact Vanessa at anytime. After spamming her contact for a solid three seconds, he looks around for anything else he can use, a pipe, a shield, a, a... He looks at the electronic wires. A controlled shock, that will stop her. It will hurt her, It will hurt a lot, but that's what makes it work. But he's not going to die here. No matter what he's not going to die here. 

Chica finishes her meal and snaps out of her trances. She turns to Mike. "Sorry about that, we had a glitch a while back-" Michael's standing there, he's ripped of the wire for the trash compactor and attached it to a spare battery pack. He's using a rubber glove to keep the sparks contained. Chica has a startled expression. Its surprisingly calm for someone who's basically being held at gun point. Michael's glad he can't hear his heart beat. He doesn't want to give her the satisfaction.  

He's breathing heavy, wondering if Chica's processing it. Vanessa was gonna kill him, cut him into little pieces and keep the eye sockets on her desk. That's a rather dark thought, Michael. What made you think of that? He ignores the voice in his head, it sounds like dad. What would Henry think? Henry didn't need to worry about him, he's already been through enough, thanks to you! So I'm here now? Fuck, no, no you're not. You're just a voice. Language Michael. FUCK YOU! What would Evan-

"What do you see?" What? "Name five things you can see." Michael looks around.

"A.. A rubber glove, Your hand, a wire, the S.T.A.F.F bots, and some trash." He's still breathing hard. 

"Okay, name four things you can hear." Okay, he can do this. 

"Your voice, the staff bots, the pizza machines, and...and," He can't find anything, there's nothing here. He can't fail!

"Deep breaths, Okay? You're not in trouble." He follows the instructions. He can hear the air vents. " Good. Now name three things you can smell."

"The meat, the... not meat, and the trash."

"You're doing great! What are two things you can feel, you can touch?" He thinks for a moment.

"My shirt," His old shirt, the dirty one that he didn't have time to change, "and the cold air."

"What do you taste?"

Michael frowns, "Bile." He looks a Chica. She seems satisfied with her work.

She places her hands on her knees and meets him at eye level."Would you like to go somewhere?" She's treating him like a child, someone who needs help.

He dismisses her harshly, "I'm fine." He doesn't need help, never has. He thinks for a moment, "Is there anywhere where there isn't food?" Chica visibly cringes. 

"Well, we can head over to the prize counter." Michael's bad mood falters. He can't help it. He's loves the prize counter, ever sense he became a manager at Jr.s. It was the best place to relax, the kids were nice or at least quiet. If anyone bothered him The Puppet wouldn't give them or their kid a prize (Though he caught it sneaking lollies to the nicer kids with awful parents). It's one of the few memories that hasn't soured. The puppet never bothered him much at night (Though he's sure that's because of the music box), and it was down right delightful during the day. There was something... familuar, about it. 

Chica's giggling at him, and he realizes he must have be just standing there with a derpy smile for at least a couple of minutes. Point is that he likes the prize counter. "Yeah, let's head to the prize counter." He checks the cameras has they head over there. Michael grimaces, "Slow day my ass! This place is packed."

Chica leans over. "Oh no, That is a slow day." 

Michael sighs, "How are we suppose to get by?" 

"We'll take the back ways!" Michael smiles. He's starting to feel a bit more comfortable around Chica, but only if he jumps his objections and kick them while they're down. He links his arm and goes back to focusing on the cameras. The key is to focus on the windows and dark places. This place was built for security so most of the back doors don't lead anywhere without a security pass. Vanessa said that most of the security passes were turned in when people quit or where fired, but a few might have smuggled some out. The high population arias have too many people to see anything, and the public crowd keeps most people in line. Anyone with a brick and a catapult can break a 3rd floor window, and the dark places are places that the normal public find to unsettling, but children have no qualms about.

"Hello!" Chica snaps him back and, oh look they're here! He looks around and his smile disappears. The prize counter felt more like a gift shop than a prize counter. The prize counter at Jrs had heart, it felt like a place to give gifts, to make people happy (even the toy reboot had a heartfelt prize counter). This ones only goal is to trick some brat into whining about their favorite animatronic to their parents. It's the most corporate prize counter he has ever seen. It was weird for a place that seems so focus on having a heart and soul. Chica seems to notice his dissapointment and starts to list the prize counter many selling points. He looks around for anything that peaks his interest as Chica rambles. 

He inspects the Chica plush. It's nice, nice silhouette, nice stitching, just something's missing. "Do you have a cupcake?"

Chica seems surprised by the question. "I can get one from my bakery."

"Yeah but do you have one that you can carry around or something?"

"In my room, but I don't carry it everywhere, just for photos."

"Oh," Michael dissapointment is immersurable and his day is ruined.

They both stand their awkwardly, hoping something will break the silence. Luckily something does. That something is Vanessa practically breaking down the door.

"MIKE!" She runs to him and grab his shoulders, "ARE YOU OK?" Her expression is full of worry.

"Yeah, Vanessa, I'm fine."

She digs into his shoulders, "Then why the fuck did you ping me 137 times?" She says in a quiet, terrifying voice. Michael can't seem to find any words to explain himself. "I thought you DIED or some shit!" She yells, finally letting go of his shoulders.

Chica pipes in, "I was eating trash again. I think it freaked him out?"

"Again, Chica?" She sighs, "I thought we fixed this." She starts thinking aloud, "Maybe the psychological damage lingers."

"It was pretty traumatic."

"For all parties involved." Chica leaves for the closing performance. Vanessa turns to Michael, "What are you doing in here anyway?" 

He responds honestly, partially because Vanessa can sense lies, partially because the best lies contain truth, "I like prize counters, they've always been my favorite."

"When did you go to a prize counter?"

"When I was younger, like 15." Vanessa seems to think on this, she takes quiet awhile. "Is something wrong?"

"Just who are you?" Michael's taken aback by her question, "You don't have to tell me, I'll figure it out eventually. It's clear you have history with the company, and Freddy's is the only establishment that has a prize counter. Based on the information you just gave me, you've been around the company sense you were at least 15, probably earlier." Michael is speechless. Not only has she done her research, but she's not bad at deduction, "Not only that but you're a great security guard, checking the cameras constantly for really short intervals of time." She steps closer to him, becoming inches away from his face, "You've done this before."

"Why are you doing this?" She backs up and gives him a dumbfounded look.

"Because you're a shady guy from a Freddy's establishment. That alone is enough, but I found you in a locked room underneath the Pizzaplex. Not only that but you had a panic attack when you were confronted by the animatronics. That's not even mentioning your appearance. Plus, what kind of employer doesn't research their employees?" Michael stumbles his words a bit before grumbling in defeat.

"Well, why didn't you ask?" 

She takes a deep sigh, "Mike, whats your last name?"

Shit, "Emily."

"Mike,-" He doesn't want to lie to her, She scary and has helped him out so far. But everything's finished and he doesn't want that last name. His mind is scrambling for an answer-.

"Michael Afton Emily."

"What?" 

"That's my full name, Michael Afton Emily." He said it without thinking, without meaning. Just a simple phrase that he goes by. She seems surprised, like she didn't expect him to answer. An awkward silence takes over

"Alright, well," She taps her foot on the ground. "Let's change the topic, shall we?"

"Yeah, okay."

She thinks, "How was your first day?"

"Stressful. Chica dragged me everywhere and I could feel the eyes of the patrons burning my skin."

"Not a fan of crowds, Eh?"

"No." He says, too seriously for his liking. 

Vanessa sighs in sympathy, "Well hey, there's all ways tomorrow, right?" Tomorrow is another day.

He groans, "Today was so busy, tomorrows crowds are going to be worse, aren't they?"

"Don't worry about it, you're going to be helping the daycare attendant." 

"Daycare attendant?" Since when did Freddy's have a daycare? He thought this was a fend for yourself establishment. 

"Oh yeah, you haven't been to the daycare yet, have you?" He shakes his head. "They're pretty nice. Normally there's two of them but Moon has some report to fill about... recent events... so you'll have to help Sun out."

"Their names are Sun and Moon?" 

"Yep, you'll get it once you see them." Michael's curiosity is peaked; tomorrow seems like quite the interesting day.

Vanessa lets out a satisfied sigh. "So where are you gonna stay tonight?"

"Oh," Michael feels a bit sheepish, "I was hoping to crash at you're place." She goes quiet.

"This is my place." Michael gives her a confused look, "I live here, in the Pizzaplex." Michael just stares at her. They stay like this for a good while, til Vanessa breaks the silence. "I lost my apartment awhile ago, didn't make the rent payments."

"Is that even legal?"

"It's Freddy Fazbears." Michael gives a 'true true' nod. 

"So can I stay in your room? I don't want to have to set something up." 

Vanessa thinks for a bit, "I mean, sure? As long as you don't move my stuff."

"Alright." They leave and head over to Vanessa's room. It's in Fazerblast, hidden away from the customers while still within the general play aria. There's a security desk with monitors and a button.

"Don't press it," Mike jumps at Vanessa's voice. She's staring intently at his every action. Michael looks around the room some more. There's a futon on the floor with some blankets. The only wall 'decoration' is a spray painted name. The purple paint says 'Van', the rest is cut of by an electric blue spray paint with 'essa' written above it. "I wanted a bright yellow but Freddy said it would ruin the feng shui," She shrugs her shoulders, "He was right of course but the yellow would have been more symbolic."

"This place is a dump."

"You're damn right it is." 

"Aren't there better rooms?" 

"Yeah but I can't move without this baby!" She lays her arm on an arcade machine on the wall, Princess Quest III.

"Looks lame."

"Hey! This thing is a lifesaver, do not insult her!" She hugs the arcade machine with exaggerated whimpers. The display actually gets a laugh out of Michael, causing Vanessa to laugh too. 

The laughter is cut off by a yawn from Michael. "Huh,"

"What is it?"

"I haven't felt sleepy in so long." Vanessa raises her eyebrow, "Most of the time I was down there I would just sleep the years away."

"Huh," 

"I know right?" They both let out a small chuckle.

Vanessa checks her watch, "You should head to bed, My shift starts in 15 minutes and you need a good night's sleep."

"But its only 10:15." 

"Night shift starts at 10:30.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why would that be surprising?"

"Mine always went from 12am to 6am." Vanessa gives him a look.

"Lucky you, I guess." She starts off. "You sure your gonna be OK?"

"What, want to sing be a lullaby?" She giggles.

"Just making sure." She hums a tune to herself as she heads out for her shift.

Michael tucks himself in. The lights dim as the building shuts down slowly. His heavy eyelids drop as he lays against the lumpy mattress. He's spending his first paycheck on a new mattress, this thing sucks. It's weird to talk to people again. After the scoop he only ever talked to his employers, and those conversations boiled down to 'It's Freddy Fazbears, who cares?'. The weirdest part is how much Vanessa doesn't care that he's suppose to be dead, she just wanted someone to do the shift. Talking with her is... nice. It makes him feel human. He doesn't deserve it, he know that, but it's still nice to indulge in basic human decency. He drifts off to sleep, cursed with the gift of dreams.

Chapter Text

Michael wakes up to Evan poking him. He grumbles, "Five more minutes." He starts poking his face, "I'll make breakfast in a bit."

"Breakfast is already made." What? Did Evan touch the stove? Damn it, he's gonna have to clean that up isn't he? Dad hates it when Evan tries to cook. Even if it's just cereal, he deserves better than that. Michael opens his eyes to see- Is that a bandage? He jumps out at his little brother. 

"Oh HELL NO!" Michael gets kicked in the face for his troubles. "Vanessa made you breakfast, freakshow!" The kid runs off. Memories of feisty employers and not killer animatronics flood back to him. Of course Evan's not here, he's-

His brother is screaming, but it's just a prank, nothing he has to be scared of. He doesn't even know why he's scared. It can't hurt-

Michael's glad he's alone, the others would worry why he's dry heaving on the floor. He can feel the bile going up his throat and exiting his mouth, but it's just a memory, nothing to clean up. Guilt, fear, and despair pierce his heart. Michael tries to stand, but can't straighten his back. He sits on the balls of his foot, keeping himself small. He wants to head to the corner, in the dark.

"Gees dude, can't you go, like, one day without a panic attack?" Vanessa is here, "I mean, I'm not one to judge but," She calms him down a bit. Her voice sounds more concerned than annoyed, it makes him feel better.

"Sorry, I just... Panicked?" He attempts to stand, but stumbles over his feet.

Vanessa catches him by the forearm, "Really? Couldn't guess that, complete surprise." She pulls him up. "Anyway, do you want some breakfast? I made pancakes." Michael nods before it occurs to him that he might not be able to eat. They head over to the food court anyway, Michael's smart enough to not turn down a meal with your employer.

"How did you make pancakes anyway?" Vanessa looks up with a mouth full of pancakes.

"A girl has her ways." 

Michael grimaces at the scene. "Don't talk with your mouth full." Her smile turns to a slightly upset scowl, and she swallows her food. He hears her mummer something under her breath. "Don't mumble," The words come out as reflex, a way to remind his younger siblings so that they don't get in trouble with dad. 

"My apologize, Sir Purple." She states in a mock british accent, "My manners aren't quite what they use to be, and besides," Her voice is normal again, "In America we normally eat the meal someone made for us."

"You know I'm American, right?" She gives a haft hearted 'uh huh', "As for the food," He looks down at his untouched food, "Well, the thing is, I'm not sure if I can eat." She looks at him, "You know, no stomach?"

"Oh yeah, That's a problem." It is, he probably should have brought that up before sitting down. "It would be a shame to waste all that food." She stares at him, then at the food, then back at him. "Do it."

"What?"

"Eat the food."

"Wha?- No!"

"Do it coward!"

"I'm not gonna eat the food."

"Why not?!"

"We don't know what'll happen!"

"Which is why you have to eat it, for science!"

"I don't want a chunk of food to be stuck in me all day!" 

Vanessa blows a raspberry, "You're no fun."

He gives her a confused look. "I'm sorry? I want to be productive today, I don't have time for 'fun' experiments." He doesn't have time for fun. He has work to do.

"You don't need to be productive today." She sounds whiny, probably cause she's tired, "You're just gonna be in the daycare, Sun's got everything handled already." He wasn't sure, it must show. "K'mon, I'll prove it to you."

They head over to the daycare, its bright and colorful, with seating arrangements on the top floor. He can see the entire daycare below. Vanessa guides him to the slide. "Now, this is the fun way to enter, I thought I would show you just in case, even though you'll never use it." She gestures to the slide, a bored expression on her face. Michael sighs and hops in the slide, "Aw, yeah! That's the kind of employee I'm looking for!"

He gives her a look, "You know, I think there's a big difference between not wanting food rumbling in you like a maraca and going down a slide."

"Eh, potato potato."  Vanessa pushes him down the slide before he can respond. The sudden movement startles him, causing him to go flat and fly down the slide. He lands on top of the plastic balls, too light to fall deeper. He sits there for a bit, closing his eyes to recuperate. He blocks out the plastic, the song, the childlike yelling- wait what. Vanessa slides right on top him, crushing him into the cheap garbage. 

He groans. Vanessa gets off of him and pulls him out of the ball pit. "I am so sorry," She sputters out, "I thought you would have moved, I should have checked. Are you OK?"

He grumbles, "Peachy." She pulls him up and dusts him off, giving him an apologetic smile the entire time.

Suddenly, a high pitched 'Hello' came from above. He whips his head around to the tall figure on a balcony. They jump off into the ball pit. Michael watches as they crawl out, the movement so unnatural compared to the others. It's like watching Mrs. Emily's vintage cartoons. The being hops over to him and Vanessa, excitingly shaking his hand with an iron grip.

"Why HELLO new friend! I've never seen you before, are you doing alright? Do you need a snack? Oh, are you here to play? What FUN! I can't wait to hang out with you! We can tell scary stories, finger paint, take a blood sample..." Eventually Michael tuned out the bubbly animatronic's voice to instead get a good look at them. They're quite a different build from the others, tall and thin. Their hands look soft and padded. They had a big smile and beady eyes. The design reminded him of the puppet. 

"Sun, why don't you give him a little breathing room?" 

"Oh Of COURSE!" Their smile somehow widens, before they give an appalling look. "My GOODNESS! I haven't introduce myself! I'm SUN!"

"Just Sun?" The robot almost nods their head off. "OK," He tries to free his hand, purposely not looking at it (He doesn't want to imagine the pain) "I'm Mike."

"Hello Mikey!" What.

"Just call him Mike." Vanessa move in between the two. "So you two are going to be working today, play nice, don't be too intense or mean, and make sure you two do your job. I'm gonna go to bed, Gregory shouldn't bother you two so have fun." Who's Gregory? She heads out before he can ask, leaving Michael alone with Sun.

The animatronic turns to him. "I can tell we're gonna be GREAT friends!" They wrap him in a big hug, "Oh this is going to be the BEST day EVER!" Michael sighs. It's going to be a long day, isn't it?

The kids arrive earlier than expected. Apparently the parents want to drop off their little gremlins as soon as possible. Michael just tries to focus on his work, checking the cameras, occasionally looking around the daycare. Sun's playing with the kids, doing a much better job than he ever could. The idea of taking care of 30 kids at once would have given him gray hairs, but it's permanently purple. He's not sure how or why it started growing back but hey, hair is hair. Sun has a happy smile like always. He's not sure if the face can change. Although, their voice seems to be getting more and more stressed. Michael would be lying if he said it didn't worry him, and Michael really values honesty.

"Hey, you doing okay?"

"Y-yeah I'm FINE! This i-is a normal day!" Michael can tell they're lying. This entire company is built on lies, he didn't become a regular worker by believing everything he's told. This was more of a Henry lie. Despite popular belief the co founder of Freddy's was as notorious a liar as the child murderer. He just told different lies, cover ups. Michael remembers the day it all fell apart for him, too. He looks at his new found 'friend'. As much as this place haunts him, he doesn't want anyone to here to have to go through what Henry had to go through, what he had to go through. 

He begrudgingly walks over to Sun. "Dude, you are so obviously not fine."

"OF Course I am! This is my job! You shouldn't worry, go sit back down!"

Michael looks at the tall padded machine. "The kids are using you like a jungle gym."

They pry a child off their arm, "It's all part of the job. I mean, if I don't watch them, who will?" 

"Their parents? These aren't your kids."

"But it's my job to watch them, that's why they're here." That's a good point, but the poor guy is so overworked. Why would you even give robots burnout?

Michael's not taking no breaks as an answer, not with the strain in their eyes, "Isn't it tiring though? Don't you have some sort of break?"

"Oh yes! Normally there's nap time and Moon takes over but they're busy today." Sun places their hands on their hips, "But it's fine! I'm big! I'm independent! I don't need Moon. I can take care of myself!" They say that but their voice is glitching and their joints are creaking. "So why don't you go back to your job and I'll go back to mine!" He wonders when they'll snap, and when the staff bots will find it too tiring to put them back together.

"Are you sure? I'm here if you need anything." Michael has no idea how to handle kids. They would rip him apart like bread. 

"I'll be perfectly fine." They pick him up and take him out of the daycare, "You're worrying too much. Maybe it's because you haven't socialized! How about you talk to the adults?"  Michael tries to resist. He can't talk to people, he couldn't talk to people when he wasn't a corpse how is he suppose to talk to them now?!

The doors slams behind him before he can retort. He looks around at the parents. They're just staring him, most of them with a look of disgust. He doesn't like the eyes, he never has. The staring, the whispering, he knows what they're thinking. Why does he look like that? He so disturbing. Didn't he kill he brother-

"Wow, that's a new record," Someone's talking to him. "What'd you do to get kicked out so fast?" Michael takes a moment to collect himself before turning to the voice. It's a kid. They look exactly like Even, it actually scary. They seem to be young, maybe 9 or 10? Evan was 8. Their hair was short. Though I guess he turned 9, didn't he? He thinks their a boy. He looks just like him, doesn't he? The boys dark eyes keep staring at him. Can't you see them crying? Couldn't you see how upset he would have been? He looks aggressive, guarded, ready to attack anyone who comes too close. Evan would never, Even would never. His silence seems to have upset the little fire cracker. "Hey, weird guy, I'm talking to you!" Michael refuses to respond. "Are even listening? Do you want to catch these hands?!" The kids squares up and hops on his toes. Michael can't help but laugh, which seems to startle the child. "Wha- Why are you laughing?"

"I'm sorry, its just," He fails to hold his laughter, "I can't take you seriously with that face." A normal person would. The kid is thin but not skinny, his face isn't pudgy or cute, and the band-aid shows he has some gruff. But, it's just... He looks exactly like Evan. He doesn't look threatening to Michael, probably because of his work history. That must be it.

The kid gives him an offended scowl, "Well if that's how it gonna be, then I guess I won't tell you how to get back into the daycare."

Michael perks up at that. "Wait, you know another way in?" The boy turns around and walks away, "Now, now wait- I didn't mean to make fun of you, I just." He follows the boy at a brisk pace. "You kinda remind me of myself." That makes the kid stop dead in his tracks.

"How am I anything like you?" 

"Well- uh-" 'Your stand-offish, your sporting a nice bandage, your all alone which means you probably have to stay here, you seem to hate adults unless their troublemakers, and your probably traumatized by this place.' Of course he can't say any of that, it would admit too much. "I can tell you how to fix your baby face problem."

"I do not have a baby face problem!" He looks away, "But, hypothetically, if a friend of mine had that problem, how would they fix it?" Michael is about to answer, honestly, helpfully answer, but the words die in his throat. He doesn't want to see anyone wearing any type of Fazbear mask again, especially not someone he'll see often. This, of course, angers the kid. "You're not gonna tell me, are you? Ugh, I can't believe this!" The boy turns around and starts marching off again.

"Wait- please." The boy turns back to him with the most offended look on his face. "I really need to get in there, I-" Think, Michael, think! "I can tell you a story- a true story!" 

The boy looks incredibly bored, "Let me guess, 5 kids wandered around an old pizzaria and never returned, right?"

"Nope!" The boy looks confused, "This one's about an animatronic." His face turns to intrigue. Michael sits down where he's standing. The boy sits down in front of him. "What do you know about the old Freddy Fazbear locations?"

"Um... that... some kids went missing... and then they closed down?"

"Close, that's only happened at like, two locations." The kid shows some concern, "This location is a reboot, I think the second one. The animatronics were called toy animatronics. They were built with the newest technology in order to keep children safe. These animatronics were Toy Bonnie, Toy Freddy, Toy Chica, and Toy Foxy." So far the boy wasn't impressed, but background is important in any story, so he kept going. "Toy Foxy was the most enthusiastic. They were in charge of watching the toddlers, the little kids. Toy Foxy watched over them with careful consideration. But the kids weren't considerate to them, they tore them apart in their playing and antics. Eventually the staff got tired of rebuilding them at the end of the day, so they left them as a 'pull apart put back together' attraction. Toy Foxy was never the same after that, they were more aggressive, more sporadic," granted, all the animatronics were more aggressive, but the boy didn't need to know that. "Everyone started calling them 'the Mangle'. If you saw a before and after you wouldn't even recognize them as the same animatronic. Mangle had two heads and three legs. The only part that had an exoskeleton were their head, hands, and feet. As time moved on the creature became more and more decrepit, until..." Michael left the kid in suspense.

"Until...What?" Freddys had the best horror stories. The kid is shaking, and looks deathly pale. He prays he doesn't get in trouble for this.

"Well, have you heard of the Bite of 87?" The kid shakes his head, "Well, let's just say it's amazing that the human body can survive without the frontal lobe." The kid is silent, maybe he should do this for a living. Freddy's given him a lifetime supply.

"That.. that won't happen here, will it?" The boy has a shaky laugh, "I mean, it's not like..." realization hits, "Mangle didn't do it, did they?" If he didn't know any better he'd say the boy sounds concerned.

"Yes, but they were pushed to their limit. I'm sure none of these animatronics are that overworked." The kid seems to be thinking.

"OK."

"Okay?"

"I'll get you in.

Apparently 'another way in' meant a hole in the net. It's too small to fit a normal adult, but, lucky him, Michael's not a normal adult. He starts climbing, ignoring the looks and startled voices. What are they gonna do, call security? He checks his watch just in case. Vanessa wouldn't fire him because of some complaints, but she would fire him if he wasn't doing his job. Why was he even doing this job? What is he doing with his life? Breaking into a children's daycare? For what? Some overworked robot? Why does he care about them? Because they're familiar? They're not even possessed, it's not worth it. Of course, he comes to this conclusion when he's suspended over a children's play aria by a tangled foot. This type of stuff only happens to him. Why? Is it because of his dad? Like the Sins of the father kinda deal? Because of Evan? He's sorry He's sorry He's sorry He's sorry He's sorry He's sorry He's so sorry please forgive him he's so sorry please be okay please please be okay you have to be okay Evan please.

"Wha- What are you doing up there?!" He turns his head to the frazzled voice. "Get down! You're gonna get hurt." Michael laughs at that.

"Oh yeah, let me just use my nifty ladder, I always carry that around." 

"OK, hold tight, I'll- I'll be there in a jiffy."

"Nah," He goes to free his foot, "I think I'd rather fall."

"Wait Wait WAIT-" Michael starts free falling, hoping to land on his head. He's pretty sure he never snapped his neck when he was alive. Instead he falls into some padded arms. He opens his eyes to see Sun holding him in a bridal carry.

"Um, what are you-"

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!"

"Uh-"

"YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

"Actually I-"

"Why did you even come here?!"

That slightly peeves him, did they forget the entire conversation? "You're overworking yourself. I had to do something!"

"Why didn't you just use the door? I would've let you in!"

"No you would not!" 

"Well it's better than endangering yourself and breaking in!"

"I wasn't- could you put me down?!" Sun complies, "Thank you, anyway YOU need to take a break!"

"What, no! I told you I'm fine, I love kids." 

"Yeah, but their tearing you apart. I can see how stressed you are."

"The kids aren't what's stressing me out!"

"Uh huh, then what is?"

"YOU!" Michael takes a step back.

"Me?"

"YES!" The caretaker is waving their arms around excessively, "Your blood pressure is low, you're extremely thin, your eyes are so sunken and I can't even hear your pulse! How am I suppose to keep something that's running on fumes alive."

Michael just stares at them for a bit. "I'm not alive."

"You're...What?"

"I'm a corpse, I have been for awhile." The animatronic just stares.

"But... How does that... Corpses don't... How are you..." The animatronic just blinks at himin confusion, "How... If you're a corpse, how are you working here? Aren't there... laws?"

Michael shrugs, "It's Freddy Fazbear's, who cares?"

"I do."

Michael pats the robots head, "There there, you'll get use to this." This must be their first real experience with Fazbear's weirdness. Ah, to be so innocent, so naive, so ignorant again. Michael isn't kidding when he says they're like the puppet. Unlike the other animatronics they clearly had loving care put into their creation. Everything, from their A.I to their fingertips, is designed to protect and care. They're fairly new and stay in one aria, so he doubts if they've even heard of the old locations, let alone the tragedies. Whoever build them didn't do it for a quick buck or rebranding, they did it because they wanted an animatronic that could watch children. The craft reminds him of Henry, of how he would spend weeks mulling over one animatronic till dad or Charlie dragged him out of his office. The complexity that he's only seen in three animatronics before, The Puppet, Lefty, and... Springtrap. The springlocks were Henry's first big discovery. Dad said that he was so proud.

"I, I should get back to the kids." Sun's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, good old reliable. "Oh NO THE KIDS! Oh who know's where they've gone!"

"One is by a generator in the play area, two are building a tower, one is by the exit and another is on top of the play castles. You can find the rest."

Sun looks surprised, "How do you know that?" 

Michael taps his watch, "I've got some experience when it comes to monitoring things."

"Well in that case," Sun holds out their hand, "Do you want to help out some? I mean, only if you're comfortable."

He smiles, "Yeah, I'm fine with that." 

"Great!" Sun was going to elaborate but a child starts crying and they rush into action. He guesses that's why he likes these animatronics, they really seem to care. He checks his watch and heads to the fray.

Chapter Text

“Are you even listening to me?!” An old man yells. He’s been complaining for over thirty minutes, or maybe fifteen, maybe even five, who knows? He doesn’t, god he’s tired.

“No.” His sleep deprivation has made way for honesty being his best policy.

“Wha- I’m calling your manager!”

“She’ll punch you in the face if you wake her up.”

“This is outrageous!”

“No, this is Freddy’s. You complaining is like the least outrageous thing that’s happening.” Which is true, a bunch of people are trying to shoulder stack to the ceiling. They’re currently halfway there. 

“Do you even care about your job?” Yes, yes he does. Normally he would be stopping the doomed to fail people tower, but that was when he had a good night's rest. Ever since Vanessa found him he’s been having nightmares. Because the universe derives much of its pleasure from tormenting him.

They are bad too, full of that horrific yellow bear with a red mouth. The chilling screams and mechanical noises that keeps him from his needed rest. Painful jolts and sceaming green eyes.

He never dies in his dreams, no no. It’s never him.

But he’s forced to watch, and that’s much worse.

A kid's voice on the intercom awakens him for his thoughts. The father isn't talking to him, instead whispering nervously to the S.T.A.F.F bots. Some kid snuck into the security office and is currently singing along with the Rockstars. Michael quickly checks all the cameras while plucking the kid off the microphone. The people tower is about 2/3rds of the way there. He places the child down, locks the door, and heads over to Roxy Raceway. 

The actual track is closed, apparently it keeps collapsing and the investigation team couldn't get past the chain on the fence. Good. He heads down, back to the elevator. To the ground, to the grave, where all corpses should go. The concrete floor feels somewhat familiar, like he's heading home or something.

It's not comforting; it terrifies him, like the grave knows he belongs there, like he can't escape. He sighs and sits on the edge of the elevator entrance, his legs dangling. A childish part of him feels like Springtrap is going to pull him down, like in his nightmares. But Henry's plan must have worked, right? If it didn't, Vanessa would have died or ran away, not make it to the security room.

If it wasn't for Vanessa he might have not seen the light of day again. He looks down at the shaft. It's hard to believe that his sister is down there, or what's left of her. His dad, the Funtimes, all of them have passed on. He's surprised Vanessa didn't scrap them for parts.

"Thought I'd find you here." He turns around to see Roxanne wolf, his guide for the day. The animatronic looks down the elevator shaft placing her hand on his shoulder, “Woof, that thing’s long gone.” She gives him a moment, “You ready now?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He steps up, taking one last glance at his past. He bottles up his complex feelings, placing them neatly in the childhood trauma closet before locking the door. Roxy rushes past the door, the racetrack, and the hair salon. “Wait, where are you going? 

“To my room, obvi.”

“But we’ve already done photos and autographs.”

“Yeah, for the others, but my fans support the best so they get the best! Including a second daily photo signing.”

“Oh, ok… I guess.” Why didn’t the others get extra photos? Did they get extra time elsewhere? What made Roxy special? He checks the cameras. The dad is still pissed, complaining to one of the poor S.T.A.F.F bots. There’s a line at the front desk because that red-head mom from earlier in the week is trying to schedule her kids' birthday party. He looks up, finding himself in front of Roxy’s room. The animatronics have learned to just drag him everywhere, he doesn’t mind. Roxanne enters her room with Michael following.

“Hold up! You’re not allowed in here.” She turns around with her hands on her hips.

“What, why?”

“I need time to prepare, no one is allowed.”

“What do you mean-”

She shoves a robotic finger in his face “Upupup, no buts. I need to look my best.” And with that she slams the door in his face. 

Perfect, now what? He just leans on the door. Kids rush by to make it to their favorite attractions, pushing and shoving each other for a better place in line. The quieter children stayed at their parents' side, who are either chasing the roady ones, or staring at him. Some kids are hiding, some are gearing, most just look at him with curious eyes. The adults are a different story. Their eyes range from disgust to concern, there’s even fear.

All of them are judging him.

Judging him for smelling, judging him for existing, judging him for failing.

“Excuse me sir,” A small crowd of children has clumped in front of the room. A brunette wearing a Roxy mask seems to be the leader of the group, and the only one brave enough to talk to strangers, “Is Roxy here?” Michael stares at her. He can’t seem to process her words. He's not really there right now.

Roxy jumps out of her room, letting out a playful roar. The group giggles and squeals in excitement. Or is it fear? Maybe it’s fear. It’s so easy to get those two mixed up. Like crying and laughing. It’s all just child noises.

The puppet would do that. It would hide in her box and jump out when it heard voices. Almost gave him a heart attack once. 

Charlie did it too. So did Elizabeth. She used to be so jealous of her, and honestly, who wouldn't be? Charlie was a grade A wonder child that no 5 year old could catch up to. It's a miricale she kept Michael around.

Then again, Elizabeth was way smarter than him. Maybe if she was born first, she would have been the town darling.

The girls used to have compititions, see who was scarier. They'd pop up and spook Evan's boots off. Charlie would always laugh while Lizzy insisted she won. 

He remembers he would always scare them back for him. Evan couldn’t scare a possum. 

As an adult he can confidently say that Elizabeth is scarier, Elizabeth is way scarier.

Maybe she was born to be terrifying, maybe it was all the time she spent with Dad, maybe it was destiny.

Destiny, like how he was destined to be a monster, like how the puppet was destined to protect, like how Evan was destined to die.

Was that last one destiny? 

Does destiny even exist? Were they just unlucky? Did Elizabeth deserve this?

He hasn’t thought about his sister like that in… decades. What brought this-

“Hellooooo? You there?”

“Huh- uh- what?” He looks up. The kids have dispersed, leaving him and Roxy alone. He gives a quick nod, snapping himself back to reality. He locks his arms with the animatronic and checks the cameras. The people tower is still high up. Roxy drags him all the way to her hair salon, charging through the front door.

“Hello patrons! I would love to talk but we’ve got a hair emergency here.” Hair Emergency? Since when was there a hair-

Roxy practically throws him in a salon chair, “Wha- I don’t have a hair emergency!” She tries to run her claws through his hair (a not terrifying experience at all). She got not an inch past his scalp before she couldn't move her hand without pulling out his hair. She raises her eyebrow at him.

He pouts, smoothing out his hair. “I’m fine with my long hair.” He’s not, he hates it. It snags and smells and he hates that it’s down to his hips, but it might not grow out again so might as well keep it. “I can’t see myself with short hair.” Not anymore, anyway.

“You don’t need short hair, but you do need to get these tangles out and give it a good wash, seriously.” All the old ladies giggle at the wolf. He suddenly realizes he’s not alone, rather he seems surrounded by a multitude of grandmas.

“Hey, are you sure this is a good idea? I mean,” A nervous laugh escapes him, “I’m pretty sure all that dirt is the only thing keeping my hair on my head.” 

Roxy and the guest don't laugh. The animatronic gives him apalment with a dash of disapproval. The older customers are equally unimpressed. She practically locks him into the chair, forcing him to look at the mirror. 

Looking at the mirror is the most harrowing experience he’s had since the fight in the elevator. He looks so different from what he remembers. His once full cheeks now hollow shells caving in on the non existent bone. His eye sockets look like cavities, and it just occurred to him that he doesn’t actually have eyeballs, just a white speck in the void. His purple skin looks like leather, covered in years of dirt and grime and freddy junk. When was the last time he really looked at himself in the mirror?

The morning after he killed Evan. The day he broke his mask. He still doesn’t know if that was a mistake or not.

He stares at himself for 2 solid seconds before completely shutting off his vision. He’s not even sure if he just closed his eyes or he willed himself to be blind.

“Hey,” Roxy states in a very unimpressed tone. Closed his eyes then, “You’re gonna have to tell me what you want, and I don’t think you know enough about hair to tell me.”

“I’m fine with anything, really.” He hears her grunt and the ladies giggle.

“I don’t know you well enough to know what type of hair you want. You’re gonna have to look.” He doesn’t open his eyes, upsetting Roxy. “Listen, stop being a brat and open your eyes, unless you want me and the ladies to just wing it.”

“That would be fine.”

A frustrated sigh escapes her. Roxy’s clearly not taking no for an answer. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

“You could leave me alone.”

A new voice comes from the left, “Do you not like your face?” It’s the brunette leader from earlier. Her Roxy mask covers her face, everything except for two piercing blue eyes. It seems gentle, sympathetic. She takes off the mask, revealing healed burns along the haft of her face. “I don’t like mine either,” She holds out the wolf mask, “This helps me, so it might help you.”

Roxy takes the mask before Michael can say a word, “Why thank you, you little genius!” The ladies of the parlor go around complementing the girl, either on how brave she is or how pretty her face is. Roxy places the mask on his face with a jolly hum.

She’s saying words. Michael can see her jaw move ecstatically. He just can’t hear her. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see in his peripheral vision, only the mirror. Even then it's quickly blacking out anything that’s not the masked face staring into what’s left of his soul.

Cheep scapes that they are, Freddy’s hasn’t changed the mask mold since 1980. Despite the new white color scheme it’s still the same god damned face. Same two eyes that he used to think were inaccurate before. They fit perfectly for Roxy, but it shouldn't; it's not Roxy's face. It’s the mask, it’s the same mask, it’s the same fucking mask. He can see red colorent, covering the pure white face. It’s in patches and over the eyes and why is it so splotchy-?

Oh.

It’s blood.

It’s Evan’s blood.

He starts dry heaving, but he feels the bile spew out of his mouth. Someone touches his hands. He slaps whoever it is. A large being tries to stop him. He kicks one of its knees. It doesn’t budge so he kicks it again. And again and again until its knee cap falls off. He kicks the open muscle? Vein? Whatever it is, it brings the monster pain. People are screaming. The creature lets go. He grabs its head and slams it into the chair he was sitting in. With the thing distorted, he fucking runs.

He runs and runs. Where is he running? Where is he? He needs to find the security puppet. It will protect him. Like it protected Charlie? The puppet’s in tight spaces. The puppet’s in a box. He needs to find a box.

No direction, no sight, no memory, just box. Box box box box box box box-

There’s a box! He found it, he found the box! Get in the box, he needs to be in the box.

He locks himself in the box but something is still wrong. Very very wrong. It’s the mask, he’s still wearing the mask. He claws at his face, desperate to take it off. He scratches and scratches, unsure if it's gone or not. It doesn't matter, he deserves-

“That sounds really violent.” A voice grounding him from the outside. It’s outside of the box, but it’s not trying to get in the box. It’s familiar, and young.

“Charlie?” He asks. Maybe she found him, maybe he’s not alone. Of course he's not alone, she would never just leave him-

“Who?” It’s-it’s not Charlie. Charlie' dead isn’t around anymore. She's been gone for years. He-He’s at the Pizzaplex now. He takes a deep breath, in…out…in…out.

He finds himself locked in a good sized box, about as much space as a go cart. He grounds himself on the wood and walls, the small cracks of light seeping through. The absolutely crippled mask in the corner, the ghostly balloon boy clawing- no wait, that one’s not real. Just oxygen deprivation.

The kid breaks the silence, “How are you alive? There can’t be that much oxygen in that box.” Right on the money.

“I’m not.” He answers honestly, because he’s too tired to care. If it was Vanessa he would probably seap off of her energy and dodge some questions, but he hasn't had a good night’s sleep since she found him, forgive him for being honest.

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“Like, how are you dead?”

“I died.”

“But you’re talking.”

“Yep.”

“How.”

“Some fucking bullshit, little dude.”

A pause, “Elaborate.”

He doesn't know how. Never really listened to SpringDad's lectures, "I think... it's like soul energy? Something that's like... when you die-"

“Oh no fuck that. Umm…” The kid taps his fingers against the box. Michael checks the cameras, because that's his job. “You got more stories?”

That’s where he recognizes him from! The kid he told the Mangle story to, “You didn’t tell your parents about the last one, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

“...So, are you gonna tell me a story?”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“I told you a story because you were an insider and I was desperate, I’m not gonna give them out like candy.”

“Why not?!”

“Because most of them are horrific and painful to remember. Besides, you're far too young for these things. Trust me, mangle was the least graphic.”

“Too young my ass! Come on,” The boy wines, “I’ve been through hell and back, I can handle it!”

He laughs, it’s like talking to a younger version of himself.

He’s talking to a younger version of himself and he doesn’t feel sick.

This is a rare opportunity. 

“Kid, do you care about anyone?”

“That’s a change of tone. Why would you ask that?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Do you hurt them?” A silence, “Do you scare them?”

“No, fuck off.”

“I’m not the one bothering a man who’s hiding in a box.”

“I just wanted a fucking story.” The kid shakes the side of the box, “Tell me a story!”

“Do I sound like Candy Cadet to you?”

“Who?”

“Nevermind, the point is I don’t give out stories for free.”

The kid blows a raspberry. “I won’t leave you alone until you tell me a story.”

“Ok.” Michael’s patient. It comes with the job. Although, the box is becoming quite suffocating.

It takes 30 seconds before the kid starts bargaining, “Ok look, today hasn’t been the best day for you,”

“Yep.”

“And the Pizzaplex is about to close,”

“Uh-huh,”

“And… Look, is there anything you want? Anything I could do for you? Literally anything.”

“Nothing you could do.”

“Try me.”

Michael sits in his box, thinking. He wants nothing more than to rot in his heap of sorrow and pain, but Vanessa’s counting on him, and this kid’s never gonna leave him alone. Maybe some help would be nice, even if it means nothing.

“I would do anything for a good night's sleep.”

“Insomnia?”

“Nightmares.”

“Ahh, I’ve got some tricks for that.” He can hear the kid hop up before the lid of his box is pushed open. The kid only makes it halfway before taking a breather. “Geez,” He huffs, “How did you even close this thing?”

Michael effortlessly pushes the lid off, “I managed.” He stands up, dusting off his outfit.

“Egh, you reek.” The kid blocks his nose. His eyes scan Michael head to toe, clearly thinking up a plane.

“Comes with being a rotting corpse,” He holds out his hand, “I’m Mike, by the way.” Kid stares at him and his outstretched hand, “Never caught your name.”

The kid gives a smug smile, “Gregory.” He shakes his hand, “So you’ve been suffering from nightmares, right?” Michael nods, “I have a few tricks for those, but first you gotta take a shower, seriously it’s like something died down here.” Michael deadpans at Gregory, “Showers are in the break room, don’t worry about your hair, Roxy will deal with it later.”

“There’s nothing-”

“There’s definitely something wrong with your hair. You’ll feel better with it managed, trust me.” They exit the storage room, “Head down that left hallway til you find the lockers, showers should be right next to them. I’ll have a S.T.A.F.F bot bring you some clothes.”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“I’mma check with Moon, see if they have anything for nightmares. You go take a shower, doctor's orders.”

“Doctor?”

“Yep, your bill will be a damn good story.”

Michael sighs, “Of course, nothing in this world is free.”

“Nope, now run along, I’ve got stuff to do.” Michael lets out a playful huff before heading to the showers.

Most days being stuck in a chair with a blind fold on would be a bad thing. 

“So I’m gonna ask you questions while I wash your hair?”

Today is not one of those days. Roxy claws comb through his hair, massaging in some product. 

“Yep, you said you wanted to get to know me better.”

“Alright then, umm… Who’s your favorite glam rock?”

“Honestly, you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Freddy and Chica are too… familiar, Monty is too aggressive, and you remind me of an old favorite.”

“I mean, of course I’m your favorite, I’m the best animatronic to ever be made.”

“What.” 

“I’m the coolest, most talented star here by a long shot, it’s only natural you like me.”

Michael opts to let this play out, as long as that may take.

…

Ok it’s been 15 minutes.

He snaps his fingers, “Questions, hairstyles, stay on track.”

“Right right, What’s your favorite food?”

“Well, I don’t think I can eat anymore, but when I was alive… I don’t know. I grew a real hatred for pizza, if that counts.”

“Ok, um… Would you say you’re good with children?”

“Oh hell no.”

“That’s a straight up lie.” The new voice interrupts. He can hear Vanessa walk into the hair salon, “He’s great with kids, terrible at problem management.” 

“Why are you here? Don’t you have work to do?” Michael asks.

“Right now EMS is doing my job for me so-”

“EMS?” He says, confused. Then he lets out an excited gasp, almost rising out of his seat, “Did the people tower finally fall?”

He hears Vanessa slap her own face, “If you knew there was a goddamn people tower why didn’t you do something?” Michael falls into a guilty silence, “Whatever, yes the people tower fell, we’re lucky that no one died.”

“How many injured?” Roxy asks.

“27, sifting from major to minor.” 

“Did they make it to the roof?” Michael asks.

“You mother fucker, of course that’s what you ask.”

The room goes silent.

“Well, did they?”

“One guy jumped to touch it and it toppled the whole tower.”

“Nice.”

“Anyway, why are you blind folded? And what are you doing?”

Roxanne replies, “I’m fixing his hair. He doesn’t like his face, or a mask.”

“You willingly went to the salon?”

“The little boy I met in storage said it would help with nightmares.”

“Yeah, Gregory actually has good advice if you can pry it out of him.”

“Wait, how do you know Gregory?”

“Hey!” Roxy barks, “You don’t get to ask questions! We’re getting to know you!”

“Oo! Are we interrogating him?” Vanessa asks excitedly.

“More like Ice breakers, but yeah.”

“And I just get no say in the matter?” Michael protest.

“Nope!” Vanessa pops, “Let’s see… How many lawsuits do you think we’ll get because of today.”

“Hmm, probably just one, they might conjoin it. Hopefully we’ll get a couple though, weaker lawyers.”

“You speak with experience?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hmm, What’s the worst lawsuit you’ve fought?” Roxy ask

“What do you mean? The one that was the worst to fight or the worst offense?”

“Both” Vanessa elaborates.

“Well, the worst one to fight was this lady who claimed the pizza I served poisoned her little Tommy.”

“Did it?”

“Hell if I know, the point is I eventually won, much to Jessica’s dismay.”

“Nice, the other one?”

“Almost got a kid's hand bitten off.”

Vanessa does a spit take, “THE FUCK?!"

“How do you even do that?!” Roxy ask

“You buy sketchy animatronics for five bucks.”

“What animatronic-”

“Lefty, don’t worry about it, it's dead. Anyway I settled that lawsuit fast! It costs like $1000.”

“$1000? That’s it?!” Vanessa rightfully criticizes.

“I gave the family an extra 2,500 for the hospital bill.” Vanessa scoff, “Hey it was all I had!”

“Alright well,” Roxy changes the topic, “How long have you owned a business?”

“Owned is a pretty strong word. Technically I’ve only owned a business for a week before it burned down. But I was head manager at Jr. 's for three and a half years, that’s basically running the ground floor.”

“Nice.” Vanessa compliments.

“What was your family like?” Roxy asks.

“Insane, everyone was shit, including me.”

“Who’s your least favorite?” Vanessa asks.

“My father. He’s the worst man I’ve ever heard of.”

“Fuck dads honestly, they’re complete horse shit. Let them all rot in hell.”

“Not that big of a fan, huh?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” He pauses, then starts to laugh. It’s so different, everything’s so different now that he’s gone.

“What’s up?”

“It’s funny, I’ve spent my entire afterlife chasing him, fixing his mistakes, and now that he’s finally gone,”

“You don’t know what to do with your life.”

“Yeah, you get that?”

She sighs, leaning on his chair, “Sometimes. Shit happens, for better or worse.”

“Yeah, shit happens.”

The trio sit in a contemplative silence before Roxy continues her quest.

“Who’s your favorite family member?”

He thinks about it. He knows the answer but he’s not sure if he can confront it. He answers honestly, before any part of his brain can protest, “... My brother. He reminded me of mom.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she was nice but… she left when I was 10. Don’t blame her, honestly, dad was…” He trails off

“... What was he like?” Vanessa asks hesitantly.

“My brother?” Michael responds with a gulp

“Yeah.”

“He was…” How does he even start? “Sweet,” By turning his brain off, name the abstracts, “A real scaredy cat, couldn't hurt a fly if he tried, He was… very lonely, talked to his dolls alot. Looking back on it, it felt like he was closer to the dead than he was the living. He… he was a huge crybaby. The neighbors called him ‘Crying Child’. I…I used to help him but…”

Every ounce of energy is focused on keeping himself together. Even thinking about it hurts his chest, like slowly peeling off a bandage. He never talks about this, never thinks about it, he can’t even-

His chest contracts. He places his brother as a concept, an idea. Just don’t think- 

He wasn’t an idea, Michael.

Go away.

He was a-

“Did something happen?” Vanessa gently places a hand on his shoulder. “Mike?” It’s grounding, why is everything about her so down to earth?

 He leans into the touch, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Does it have to do with why you don’t like short hair?” Roxy asks. He doesn’t respond but the answer is evident. 

Roxy changes the topic, “Do you like your long hair as it is now?”

“To be honest, not really. It snags and tangles, it feels like I have a ball of twine in my hair sometimes, and it covers my face.”

“Sounds like you need a pony tail.” Vanessa chimes.

“No thanks, don’t wanna steal your Highschool blonde aesthetic.”

“Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m a final girl, through and through.”

“My sincerest apologies. As great as your hair is, I don’t want to draw anymore attention to myself.”

“Is there anything you like about your hair?”

“Hmm, I like how it frames my face.”

“Good enough.” Roxy lifts his head up and starts snipping. “By the end of your time here, we’re gonna make a face you want to see in the mirror!” She cuts and snips rapidly. He catches a bit of it, feeling the new soft, silky texture. It’s amazing, he reaches a hand up to feel it.

Vanessa slaps it away, “Not yet, dumbass, she’s going to town.” He sits there for a few more moments.

“And presto!” Roxy takes off the blind fold with flourish, “My masterpiece!”

His hair is a medium bob, ending at his shoulders. It has a nice inner curl, framing his slender neck.

“It’s… nice, I guess, just a bit all over the place.”

“Hold up!” Vanessa calls. She collects all of his hair and ties them up in a slick back ponytail. “So what do you think?” 

“It’s… perfect.” Something new, something fresh, something not from his past. He notices the hair tie keeping it together. “Is that a scrunchy?”

“Yep, gotta have some color in your life somewhere, right?” She replies, framing the Roxy scrunchy. He can see her smile at her brilliant work in the mirror. “You get the full weekly set too.” She drops a small light box on his lap. The box contains six other scrunchies. Sure enough, each one is themed after an animatronic, from Freddy to Music Man, and everyone in between.

He looks at himself again. The clean skin paired with the new hair makes him feel like a whole new purple person. He smiles “Thank you, Vanessa, I really mean it.”

“Ay, don’t mention it. Can’t have my only coworker look like I found him in a burnt down pizzeria, now can I?” They both laugh.

“Hey! It’s time to sleep!” Gregory barks into the salon, wearing striped blue PJs.

“Aw, Fuck off you little twirp!” Vanessa responds.

“Hey! My Patient, my rules!” 

Michael shrugs, steps seamlessly out of the chair and walks backwards towards Gregory while addressing Vanessa, “It seems our time here has come to an end,” He states in his smooth British accent.

“Watch your head,” Vanessa replies before Michael bonks his head on the back of the salon sign.

“You know, that probably wouldn’t have hurt if you didn’t warn me.”

“Yeah, yeah, Goodnight Dumbass!”

“By bitch!” Gregory responds, grabbing Michael’s hand and booking it to Fazer Blast.

Once inside his room, Michael notices a medium sized box. Gregory rushes over to it, spewing items across the room. “This is a noise maker/Alarm clock. It can do white noise, whale sounds, campfire, bunch of shit. It’s already set for 10am.”

 He pulls out another item, “This is a dream catcher,” He holds up the carefully crafted circle. It’s made out of some wood, and brightly colored string, “Bad dreams get tangled up here, see?” He points to the string net, “While good dreams will follow the string and drip down from here.” He points at the feathers hanging off of it before hanging it above Michael’s sleeping aria.

“I’ve also got some glow in the dark stars.”

“I don’t need those.”

Gregory grumbles ‘well fine then,’ under his breath. “And we have,” He lifts something heavy out of the box, “This!” He grunts, clearly struggling. Michael takes the cloth out of Gregory’s hands.

“What is it?”

“That,” He huffs, “Is a 25 lbs weighted blanket.” Michael weighs it in his hands. It’s a bit heavy, but not something unmanageable.

“A weighted blanket?

“Yeah! It helps with anxiety and stress, I have one too!”

“Thank you Gregory, this was all very nice of you.”

“Yeah well, Moon said this stuff would help so-” He gets a call from his Fazwatch, “Shoot, gotta go. Don’t forget, you owe me a story!”

“Sweet dreams Gregory!” Michael sighs as the kid runs off. He turns off the light and lays on his bed with his new blanket, falling into the best sleep he’s had in years.

Chapter Text

He’s in the dark, floating and swimming in a vast void. His skin is prickly, like his goose bumps turned into pine needles, but at least it’s back to its natural color. Three others stand around him. They all wear masks. They’re feet are planted, while he is floating.

These are his friends, he realizes. The kids that killed Evan with him. The ones from when he was a kid teen younger. God, what were their names?

He gives the shorter brown haired boy with the bonnie mask a good once over. What was his name? Jeremy? No no, that was his twin's name, the one that disappeared. It was why Bonnie Mask had the best birthdays. He was celibrating for two. 

Bonnie mask, that was a good temporary name. Nothing wrong with identifying your friends with a removable characteristic that holds trauma so they probably don’t even wear it anymore, nothing at all. Besides, Bonnie mask won’t mind. They’re all tight like that.

He quickly shifts his attention to the black boy with the chica mask. He knows this guy's name. It’s Susie, right? No, that’s not right. Isn’t Susie a girly name? Chica mask hated being called girly. The other kids always made fun of him for being 'Oh so girly', like there was something wrong with that. They stopped making fun of him when they killed Evan. He’s not sure when or why they stopped.

Once again he’s using his friends' mask to identify them. Whatever, it’ll be fine.

He turns his attention to his last friend. The blonde boy with the confident smirk under the mask. 

Michael slaps himself. He knows this! This kid is best friend, he was with him when Charlie, when Lizzie disappeared, when Evan-

No, don't think about that, point is he knows his name.

Or he should know his name.

He has to know his name! This guy was his best friend, his first crush, his first kiss! He has to know something! He completely remembers this guy's name. He stares into the soulless black eye of the mask (there are supposed to be eyeholes there, he should be seeing his friends bright blue eyes, not this nightmarish black). Taking a deep breath he says the boy’s name.

“Gabriel.”

…

That’s not his name. That’s nowhere close to his name. Where did Gabriel even come from? 

God he’s so embarrassed. They’ve spent over a decade with him (Did they? They met when he was 10, and he was scooped when he was...) and he can’t even remember their names.

None of them seem to mind. In fact, none of them seem to care. They just stared at him blankly. 

“We miss you Michael.” The three say in unison, “Won’t you come back to us?” They ask, holding out the foxy mask, his mask.

He stares at it intently at the mask. Memories of laughter and games, of happy memories. He remembers his mom, and family dinner, and the Emily’s and-and 

Evan.

He physically jerks away from the mask. The other three grab onto his arm so hard it starts to bruise. Their hands overlap, as if they were just holograms or mirages. “Don’t leave us Michael.”

“Let go!” He yells, banging against his friends’ arms. His hand goes right through them.

“Don’t leave us Michael.” They call again, like a one track tape. They’re grip tightens as they sink deeper into a silky darkness, dragging him along with them. 

(He can faintly hear a child's voice echoing. “Don’t leave me Michael.” It sounds like Evan. It's laughing, like it's impersonation was so funny.)

He tries to dig his feet in but they just slide, like he’s standing on fabric.

“We need you Michael.”

(There it is again. A faint “I need you Michael” trailing the demonic words.

It sounds like a little girl.)

Something grabs his other arm and pulls him out of his friend's grasp. It hisses and drives the images away. He can faintly see the outline of a little girl with short pigtails before they leave.

He looks around at his savior. In front of him was a small child, with little wounds scattered around his body and a knife sticking out of his skull. “Um, thank you, kid.”

“No problem," They stare in silence.

"Um, what are you doing here?"

"You called me.”

“I-I did? Oh, ok.” Michael says awkwardly.

The kid looks around, "Let's just wait here until-" He jolts, then stares at something he can't see. "You want him to leave? But Cassidy-”

"Cass-?"

The kid slaps a hand over his mouth, "Don't. She hates you." That voice is Evan sickenly familiar.

He's about to throw up.

The kid steps back, like the action was involentary, "That wasn't very-" He stops again, "Are you sure?... Okay, only for you."

“Who were you talk-”

The child lays his palm flat against Michael’s chest, "Mr. Afton can't find you."

His heart stops, "Mr... Mr. Afton? As in William Afton?"

"Yeah," The kid says way too calmly, “I think all I have to do is…” He lightly pushes Michael, “This.”

Michael wakes up in a cold sweat. 

He’s alone in his room. There’s nothing off about it. Nothing has changed. His hair is still in its short bob, his skin is still purple, and he’s still working at the pizzaplex. 

He takes some deep breaths, filling his hollow shell with air. He wouldn’t even consider that a nightmare, honestly. It was…It was…

What was that?

He doesn’t know. He genuinely has no idea. 

He hasn’t felt this, lost (scared, confused, stuck, helpless ) since, since…

Since he woke up after death .

… 

He needs to get to work.

He grabs the Music Man scrunchy and ties his hair in one swift motion. Vanessa is out in the hall, doing her patrols. She looks absolutely exhausted.

“You’re up early.” She yawns. 

“Yeah um… wanted to give you a bit of an early break.”

She hands him the keys, “Knock yourself out.” She walks past him and plops down on their shared mattress. 

Michael watches her, makes sure she’s safe, then continues his day. He looks around, checking his watch. The store opens in three hours. At least, he thinks it opens in three hours. He walks around the room, hoping to clean up or something, anything to keep himself busy. 

He would ask his boss, but his boss is currently conked out on the mattress. Maybe he can ask Freddy?

Does he want to talk to Freddy? No, not in a million years.

But if it can get his mind off of his… dream, it might be worth it.

Maybe.

He heads over to Freddy’s room anyway. After all, nothing else to do but busy work and thinking about the evil friends dream seriously, what was that dream?

Nothing else to do but busy work.

He’s in front of the meet and greet rooms when he sees Gregory leave Freddy’s room.

“Oh, you live here.” The kid’s gaze snaps to him, “I mean, it makes sense in hindsight.”

The kid just stares at him, “Is Vanessa awake? I need her to cook me breakfast.” He says in a sleepy voice.

“No, she clocked out a few minutes ago.” Gregory groans-whines in the way only tired children can, “I can make you breakfast.”

Gregory scrutinizes him, “You can cook?” He nods, “I don’t believe you.”

Michael simply shrugs. He heads to the kitchen, waving Gregory to follow, “C’mon, I don’t have anything better to do.” He jogs over to the kitchen, focusing purely on the map on his watch and not caring about his surroundings at all. He might be knocking a bunch of stuff over and would have no idea. Breakfast is way more important.

He needs to keep working.

He makes it to the kitchen and cracks an egg to start out an omelet. Gregory enters the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, “Do we have any cereal?”

“You’re getting more than a cereal bud, trust me.” He finishes whisking and chops up some vegetables.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I want my sugary cereal.” Gregory rummages through the cabinets for cereal. Michael picks him up (despite Gregory’s indignant squawk) and plops on a makeshift breakfast bar that Vanessa and Freddy have been building.

“Hush, Child. Today you’re getting real food.”

Said child grumbles to himself, “Since when did hollow corpses need to cook?” He asks, resting his elbows on the table.

“You know, I wasn’t always a corpse.”

Gregory gasps, “You weren’t?”

“Yeah I used to have a life, a family… Cooked for my brother a lot.”

“You have a brother?” 

Shit.

Change the subject, change the subject-

“Why do you live here?” He asks. Probably should have gone with a less personal question in hindsight.

“Why are you dodging the question?” Gregory asks in a slightly aggressive tone.

“Why are you dodging the question?” Michael mirrors.

The kid huffs and rests his head on the table, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Michael hums in agreement, “And I don’t have to tell you anything.”

They both sit in silence as the chicken sizzles. Michael's mind, now bored with waiting, goes back to the strange dream he had that seemed far too supernatural to simply be-

“What’s your favorite school subject?” Michael suddenly asks.

Gregory doesn’t respond. Michael realizes that a kid who lives in a mall-like entertainment complex probably doesn’t go to school. He ducks his head in embarrassment. 

“I like science.” Gregory answers slowly. Michael gives him a look to continue, “Whenever a science club or whatever shows up something always explodes.” Michael laughs. “What about you?”

Michael thinks for a moment, “To be honest, I don’t remember anything about school.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” He pops, trying to recollect anything about school, “I think Lizzie liked math.”

“Who’s Lizzie?”

FUCK! 

“Elizabeth, she, uh, she was my sister.”

“Was?”

“Yeah,” Michael gulps, “She died when she was about your age.” ‘Died’ is in air quotes in his head but Gregory doesn't need to know that.

“Oh,” He says solemnly. They sit in silence, “Do you miss her?” Gregory asks, not lightening the mood at all.

“... Sometimes,” He answers honestly, hating this conversation. He needs to lighten the mood, “but she was kinda a bitch.”

Gregory snorts. It’s nice seeing the kid laugh again. “Elizabitch.”

Michael chuckles, “Nice one,” He’ll use it if he ever sees her again.

He hopes he never sees her again.

He shouldn’t ever see her again, she burned away with everyone else. If she ever returns, then that would mean Henry’s plan didn’t work. That would mean everyone is back. 

But that kid said Dad didn't know-

“COOKING!” Michael yells loudly, startling Gregory and himself, “Cooking is done. Here you go, enjoy your omelet.”

Gregory gives him a skeptical look, “Oooookay…” He hesitantly takes a bite of the omelet. His face immediately brightens up. He scarfs down another bite far too quickly, “Holy shit!” He yells, “That’s sooooo good!!” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Gregory just glares at him and shoves more food into his mouth. He dramatically opens and closes his mouth, making a strange noise with it.  Gregory continues to make monster noises as food flies out of his mouth. 

Michael tries to hide his amusement. Gregory is very happy about grossing Michael out. “Gremlin Child.” Michael says fondly. He reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair, like he used to with Evan like you do with children, but catches himself. He’s known this kid for two days, what is he thinking?

Apparently Gregory thinks the same because he’s staring at the hand with distaste. Michael also awkwardly stares at the hand for a while, ruining whatever somewhat charming atmosphere existed in the short time he was making an omelet.

“Well, I better get going!” Michael says rather rushed, and he quickly leaves the room. Now away from all necessary forms of social interaction, Michael realizes that he still has nothing to do for the next hour. 

He decides to take a walk around the pizzeria. It’s a pleasant stroll as he memorizes the map. Nothing but him and his thoughts. Thoughts about his sister and the possessed animatronics and the boy in his dream that mentioned his dad! What does that mean?! Why is this even bothering him so much? It was just a dream! He’s safe! Everything is done and he doesn't have to worry about death! He’s safe! He’s the safest he’s ever been in his entire life and it’s infuriating. He hates being safe! 

Michael stops his walk. He’s going to unpack that later.

... 

Music Man wouldn’t mind being woken up, right?

Against his better judgment (one of the first things Vanessa told him once they actually sat down and talked was to never wake up music man) Michael meanders into the arcade and starts incessantly tapping on the giant animatronic.

A shimmer of light flickers in the big black eyes and the beast sturs. The being sits up, emanating an air of anger. The robot pulls his giant hand back to smack whoever woke him up. Michael freezes, clearly expecting this humongous spider thing to strike him across the room. 

However, Music Man stops. He recognizes Michael as the new guy who's always panicking. Instead of bitch slapping him across the room, Music man rolls his eyes (completely silently, Michael adds), picks Michael up by the scruff of his shirt, and gently drops him by the door. He even gives him a tiny push outside the door.

Michael stands in the doorway, partially in shock. “Excuse me?!” He yells, finally processing what just happened. “No way, you did not!”

He stomps over to Music Man, who looks just done with all of Michael’s shit. Which is stupid because they aren’t even open yet. “Don’t just ignore me! We have a job to do!” Music Man extends his long arm and shoves Michael out the door. Michael turns around but Music Man slams the door in his face. He hmphs and goes off to do something else.

The arcade opens two hours late today, and personally, Michael doesn’t think he’s at fault. 

He was just trying to get Music Man to do his job! That’s not a crime.

“I’m surprised you’re still in one piece,” Roxy says. Michael has chosen her as his companion until Music Man stops his hissy fit. “If I did that I would be in need of repairs the rest of the day.”

“Why is he getting so upset? All I did was wake him up!’

“Music Man is such a big animatronic that it takes a lot of energy for him to run, so he takes his charging time very seriously.” Michael just grumbles, “I think you should apologize.”

“Apologize?! He’s wasting my time with this stupid no-show act! I would be at his beck and call if he just opened the door!”

Roxy doesn’t answer, she just stares at him, “Is something bothering you?”

“What?” Michael asks, surprised, because he absolutely didn’t have a strange dream or an awkward conversation that has been stirring up bad memories all day.

“You’re not usually this aggressive, is something wrong?”

“No? Everything’s the same as yesterday.”

“Are you sure? Is it that Music Man can’t talk?”

“What? No. I can deal with people who can’t talk.” He’s dealt with people not being able to talk. 

“Then what is it?” 

“I told you it’s nothing. Everything is the exact same as it was yesterday. There is nothing to be upset about.” Michael says with slight aggression

Roxy holds her hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey, I was just worried.”

“Well, you have nothing to be worried-”

They’re conversation is interrupted by the children screaming that the arcade is open. Michael rushes over to the DJ aria, not even saying goodbye to Roxy. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he needs whatever job he’s doing as quickly as possible.

The kids inside either run to the arcade games or dance on the dance floor. Unlike the daycare, the kids entertain themselves without the animatronic. Music Man’s size is entertaining enough. Speaking of, he walks over to the spider thing’s side and stands diligently. 

Music Man is not happy about this development. “I’m sorry about messing with your charge. It wasn’t nice and I won’t do it again.” Believe it or not Michael does in fact listen to others. 

Music Man just seems tired with him, his once happy mood now gone. He just stares at Michael. “Soo,” Michael asks, “What do you do for fun around here?”

Music Man gestures to his DJ set up and the dance floor. He holds out his hand onto the dancefloor. At least 10 people go up and high-five him.

Ugh, people.

“Do you have anything I could do?” Music Man gives him a confused look, “You know, cleaning out the arcade machines, counting the tokens, literally anything that’s not doing nothing or interacting with people.” Music Man seems to sigh and looks around the room.

He eventually points out a self at the edge of the room. On it are some boxes of mini music men. One of the boxes is open and missing its man. DJ Music Man points up, specifically at a vent.

Of course. 

“You want me to get one of your mini’s out of the vent?” Michael asks with dread. Music Man nods. 

Well it’s better than nothing. Michael immediately pulls up his map and highlights all the vents. He heads to the back and finds a vent cover. He hops up and rips it off. He gives one last look at the dark vent.

This is gonna suck.

He falls out of the vent with a squirming lil monster in his arms. He walks over to the boxes and tries to stuff the spider goblin inside.

Of course, Music Man doesn’t like this, because, according to him, everything Michael does is wrong! 

(Michael knows Music Man probably doesn’t think everything he does is wrong, but it’s easier to focus on his frustration than let himself think about any of the thoughts his mind’s been clawing at)

The spider thing picks up his little spawn and lets the thing crawl all over him.

“Alright big guy,” Michael stretches out his arms, “What’s next?” Music Man is paying no attention to him. “Hey!” Music Man turns to him and gently shoves him out of the way, “We have a job to do! You can’t just be lazing around all day!” The spider thing rolls his eyes again, but does actually do something productive.

Music man takes him to the back. Stuffed in the corner there are a couple of lounge chairs and blankets, as well as a sofa. Music Man points to the junk, then to a map, specifically the security offices. He then points to Michael’s hat and makes a sleeping gesture.

“You want me to make a break room for Vanessa?” Music Man nods, but he seems a little disappointed with Michael's conclusion. 

Maybe he wanted Michael to fail. Too bad for him, Michael has been interpreting people for years. Evan would have moments or even days where he couldn’t talk at all, no matter how hard he tried. It’s not that hard once you get used to it.

“I’m on it.” Michael says, picking up the blankets and surveying the security rooms on his cameras.

Michael finally finishes the room. He picked out an office that was quite sizable and had a vent on the floor, because you always need an escape plan. 

The room is furnished with a coffee table, a sofa, and a couple of cheap lounge chairs. It all looks handmade, and by many different craftsmen. Amateur craftsmen. Amateur craftsmen at best. Despite that the chairs are still quite comfortable, or maybe Michael needs to raise his standards. The pillows and blankets are draped around lazily, not like they gave him a storage space.

It took him four hours to fix the room up. Mainly because Music Man refused to help no matter how much Michael complained. It’s still leagues better than just doing nothing. He honestly doesn’t understand how Music Man lives like that. 

He makes his way back to the arcade, staring Music Man directly in the eyes. Michael is very peeved about Music Man. Michael is very peeved about everything honestly. He’s been working all day and yeah, he’s put it upon himself, but he would at least like some company.

Ok, Michael might be a little pissed.

“Oi, Big luggar!” He stomps over to Music Man, “Could’ve used your help out there! Do you have any idea how-” Michael cuts himself off, “Nevermind, are you planning on doing anything useful or are you just gonna sit around all day like an asshole?” He asks because he’s tired of this lackadaisical attitude, he’s tired of being shoved to the side, and he is especially tired of the fact that Music Man never reacts to him. He always treats him like a kid acting out, which is stupid!

Music Man sighs again and seems to actually start to help Michael out with something, finally!

“MUUUUUSSSIIIICCC MAAAAAAAN!!!” a voice breaks through the crowd as a 30 something year old dad in a red jacket runs over to Music Man. He is followed by his brunette wife and their small blond child. Music Man forgets all his new found responsibility and immediately focuses on his favorite customer instead.

Michael just stands there, dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me!” He explodes with rage, “After everything I’ve been doing to keep this place afloat, to actually get something done, you just brush me off for some LUNATIC? I have been trying SO HARD to keep it together but you just DON’T CARE, AT ALL! I mean, what’s the point of even being here? All it does is give me nightmares!” Michael rants with a hint of hysteria in his voice. He doesn’t want to be here, he wants to rot away in a grave like he deserves! Why does everyone constantly spend their time trying to make him feel better? Maybe Music Man had the right idea, maybe they really should just ignore him. He doesn’t need to be cared for; he doesn’t want to be cared for.

You don’t deserve to be cared about.

“Y-You know what?” Michael starts, tears in his eyes.

Everything is your fault.

“I DON’T NEED TO DEAL WITH THIS!”

The Missing Children, Elizabeth, Evan, it’s all your fault.

“I DON’T NEED ANY OF YOU!”

All you do is bring chaos and misery in your every step.

“I DON’T NEED THIS JOB!” But he wants it.

If you stay here, you will ruin their happy family, just like you ruined your own.

Michael grabs his hat and throws it on the ground “I-I QUIT!” His voice is shaky, as if he’s about to burst into tears. Michael has never quit a job in his life, he always got fired before he was able to.

(It hurts to let go of the only place that didn’t fire him)

It’s for the best. His father’s voice rings in his ears.

He stumbles back a bit, before fully turning around to leave…

…and immediately getting picked up like a baby kitten.

Music Man climbs up and out of the Arcade, carefully holding a completely immobile Mike. He seems to be processing being picked up. He does that a lot, Music Man has noticed. He’s a master at processing fast action or loud scenarios but if you dare treat him with kindness he just freezes up. 

He climbs on the ceiling to keep away from the crowds. That’s another thing Music Man has noticed. Mike hates crowds, or attention, or people in general, and Music Man has a feeling it’s about more than his purple skin. The only person he’s really comfortable around is Vanessa, and she’s worked hard to get there. 

Music Man crawls into the employee break room he had him set up. He wraps Mike in a burrito of blankets and sets him on the couch. He turns on two TVs, one displaying the cameras and one showing a cartoon of some kind.

“Change it to a soap opera.” Mike says. That’s another thing about Mike, the moment he processes a situation he evaluates if it’s a good idea to fight it immediately. If the answer is yes then he’ll macgyver a way out of it. Most of the time the answer is no and he’ll slump into whatever roll he’s been given.

Music Man changes the cartoon to a soap opera and leaves. Mike sinks deeper into the blankets and tries not to let the day’s events drag him down.

He’s about 30 minutes into a thrilling episode of a werewolf romance show (not as good as the vampire one) when he hears a snort behind him. He turns around to find Vanessa giggling at him from the doorway. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

“You took me off my shift early, thought I would return the favor.” She walks over and moves his legs, “Now scooch, I wanna watch the show.” She sits down and unwraps him, “And share, I want blanky too.” Michael laughs, “What?”

“Blanky.” He says, Vanessa laughs along with him. They sit in silence as the episode airs. 

“I’ve been a jerk all day.” Michael says as the episode ends. Vanessa looks at him, “It’s just-I’ve-” He groans into his hands.

“It’s ok, take your time.” Vanessa says. Michael smiles thankfully.

“This place is… I know I’ve only been here for four days but, it just feels so…safe, and-and I…”

“You don’t know when the other shoe will drop.” Vanessa says thoughtfully. Michael nods, “I get that. That’s how I felt when I first moved out of my dad’s house. Logically there was nothing to be afraid of but I still felt like I was walking on eggshells.” Michael just nods in understanding.

“It’s just… I’ve been fighting something, something that I can’t talk about, my whole life. I bring disaster wherever I go, and this place is so nice, I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Vanessa sits up, “Buddy, if you think this place is nice I am seriously worried about your standards.” They both laugh, “And who says you bring disaster wherever you go?”

“I don’t know,” Michael slumps, “A voice in my head.”

Vanessa scoffs, “Doesn’t sound like a nice voice.”

“Yeah,” Michael replies, “Kinda sounds like my dad.”

“Fuck dads, honestly. Don’t take any advice from a voice in your head that sounds like your dad.”

Michael giggles, “Alright.”

“I’m serious. If you take anything away from this job, it’s that human dads are awful, and should be replaced with robotic bears.”

Michael burst out laughing, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in… ever, “Is that the moral here?!”

“Absolutely.” Vanessa says with confidence. 

They sit in silence as a different soap opera begins playing on the screen. “I really am a disaster magnet though,” Michael says, mainly to himself.

“You sure?” Vanessa asks.

Michael gestures to himself, “I wouldn’t look like this if I wasn’t.” Vanessa seems to accept that.

“For the record,” Vanessa says softly as the intro ends, “I’m a disaster magnet too.”

“Heh, guess it comes with the bad father deal.”

Vanessa immediately sits up straight and starts imitating a salesman, “Bad Dad package, only $10.99! Comes with unhealthy coping mechanisms, lifelong trauma, and a lifetime of disaster, all for the price of oonnee! Get rid of those happy childhood memories and come on down!!” Michael goes cackling into the couch. Vanessa follows soon after. 

“It’s like those shitty three in one shampoo things.” They both go down laughing. “Hey,” Michael says in a serious tone once they’ve both calmed down, “If you even need help facing off disaster, I’ll be there, I promise.”

Vanessa smiles, “Thanks, same goes to you. If whatever you’ve been fighting suddenly reappears, I’ll be by your side in a heartbeat.”

Michael sits up and wipes away the wetness in his eyes, “T-thanks Ness,” He responds, voice wobbly and on the verge of breaking. He takes a moment to compose himself, “Can I call you that? Ness?”

Vanessa laughs, “Only if I can call you Michael.”

He warmly smiles at her, “I would love that.” 

They sit and process for a few moments, “Here, let's make this official.” Vanessa pulls out two ice cream sandwiches. She hands one to Michael. He takes it and removes the wrapper. Holding the unmelted ice cream in his hand, Michael gives Ness a confused look. 

She has hers already unwrapped and holds it out in a cheers position. “To the ‘Rather be fatherless’ pact.”

Michael laughs, “To the ‘Rather be fatherless’ pact.” They clink sandwiches and both take a bite out of it.

Normally Michael would be worrying about a chunk of food stuff being stuck inside of him, but today Michael is tired and mentally exhausted and just wants to watch his favorite soap operas with a bowl of popcorn. He doesn’t have popcorn, so an Ice cream sandwich is the next best thing.

Strangely enough, the ice cream doesn’t swish around inside of him like he thought. Instead, it just disappears once it’s past his throat. Of course, he didn’t really think about it that much, too focused on the show to really care. 

It’s nice, just sitting down and watching a campy show, he missed this.

It’s even better now that he’s got good company.

Michael lets himself relax.

Vanessa’s not sure how long they’ve been watching soap operas, but she knows she has to get to work. 

“Well, this was nice but I gotta…” Vanessa stops herself.

Michael has peacefully fallen asleep on the couch. He looks so peaceful and calm, almost alive in a way. He’s angled weirdly on the couch though, his back is gonna hurt if he sleeps like that.

She picks him up, he’s as light as a feather, and walks over to Fazer Blast.

“Is he alright?” Vanessa whirls around. Freddy is standing in his doorway, holding a sleeping Gregory to his chest.

“Yeah,” Vanessa answers, “I think he’s finally getting used to things around here.”

Freddy looks unconvinced. He’s about to say something before Gregory stirs in his arms, returning his focus to his child. (She doesn’t care what Freddy says, that is his child and everyone else knows it.)

Vanessa passes by the main four’s rooms. Chica waves from her window, Roxy seems to be doing one last self-esteem boost, and Monty focuses on his punching bag, giving Vanessa a friendly wink as she walks by. 

She takes Michael up to their shared room and drops him on the bed. He almost floats down. She turns on the noise machine and tucks him in, leaving him a note before continuing her shift.

Chapter Text

Michael is stuck in the golf course today. Let it be known he is not here of his own free will.

After waking up late, he was a flurry of worry, stress, and mess. Ness had to tie him down to get some food down his gullet. He was a bundle of anxiety with an unhealthy dash of workaholic. It got to the point where he wouldn’t stop micromanaging the S.T.A.F.F, so they locked him in the golf course.

Well he’s here now and has no idea what to do next.

Parents and kids point out the colorful jungle sets. S.T.A.F.F bots are handing children clubs and golf balls. Some toddlers are trying to climb onto the set piece, while slightly bigger children get in trouble for trying. Overall it’s all really entertaining.

And really loud. He can barely hear the mechanical ‘frump’ in the distance. 

Wait, the what?

Something crashes directly in front of him. Michael freezes in place as the towering figure stands up straight.

“Alright!” Monty announces, “Freddy told me it’s my turn to hang out with the new guy! I’ll show you around, maybe we can play some games of mini golf-”

Michael slugs him. Bit of a delayed reaction on his part.

“ARG! What? What the fu-heck!” Monty rubs his cheek as if he actually felt pain, “What was that for? Punk!”

Michael jumps into his best fighting stance, which is admittedly not very good.

“Oh, right.” Monty comments, completely unimpressed, “You’re the jumpy one. Remind me not to sneak up on you again.” Michael just stares at him, not breathing. His non-existent heart is beating a mile a minute. “You can calm down now,” The gator says, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He says it like Michael’s overreacting.

His words, despite their delivery, do get him breathing again.

“You know,” Michael wheezes, “You’re really bad at this.”

Monty frowns, “And you’re really bad at first impressions.” Michael flips him off. The animatronic huffs and lowers Michael’s hand so no kids see. Or their parents, the kids probably wouldn’t mind. Monty rolls his eyes and whirls around on one foot, “Anyway, you’re not gonna ruin my day of mini golf, so either keep up or just, stand there, I guess.”

Michael doesn’t follow him. He just stands there, awkwardly. Lets his thoughts run a bit wild. Thinks about Vanessa- or Ness now, and Freddy, and the birthday party that’s happening tomorrow.

Now he’s thinking about birthday parties, and what happens at them. Thinks about cake and balloons and party games like hide and seek. Thinks about parents calling their kids to them. He thinks about them getting louder, and more panicked. He thinks about yellow bunny mascots searching in the back rooms for kids. They never find them.

Or maybe they did, and just never told anyone.

Bunny mascots make him think of bear mascots, and that gets him back on the thought of birthday parties. And blood.

Maybe hanging out with Monty isn’t such a bad idea.

He walks over to the gator, who is playing some kind of indoor golf? It seems to be the attraction of this part of the plex.

He awkwardly stands next to Monty, “So, what are you doing?”

Monty scoffs, “What? Never played mini golf before?”

Michael squints, “‘Mini-Golf’?” He parshes the word.

Monty’s face falls, “You have never played mini golf.” He stares at him in horror. “Oh my giddy gumdrops. I am so sorry. No wonder you're so decrepit.”

“I don’t think that’s how-” Monty shoves a club into his hands.

“Shut up. We’re playing mini golf.” Michael’s pushed in front of the first hole, “Now, show me what you’ve got!”

Michael's got this. It’s mini golf, which means it’s golf, which means he can play like he played back in Hurricane; hit the ball as hard as you can and hoping it lands somewhere funny.

Michael charges back his swing…

And the club is yoinked out of his grasp.

“What the heck are you doing?!” Monty yells, “Wanna give a black eye to some poor kid?!”

“Is that how you play?” Honestly this doesn’t sound like a very fun game.

Monty facepalms, then shoves Michael aside, “Watch.” He says curtly. He putts the ball into the hole.

He hands the club back to Michael, “It’s also called putt-putt.”

Ohhh.

It still doesn’t sound very fun.

Michael squares himself up and gives his gray ball a light tap. It rolls forward an inch, then rolls back.

“Try again.” Monty says, keeping score.

He does. The ball goes a full two inches.

“Put some power into it.”

Michael swings it back a bit, which is a mistake. He hits the ball so hard it darts around and hits off the sides like a pinball. Monty picks Michael up in case the ball decides to destroy his shins. Michael doesn’t protest because he is also scared of the golf ball. It eventually bounces off a wall, catches air, bounces off a fake overpass, and flies into a pool of water with a satisfying ‘plop’.

Michael and Monty look at each other. The gator gently sets him down and grabs his shoulders. 

“Never do that again.” Monty says very slowly. Michael feverishly nods his head.

He sets him down and Michael tries putting again. He makes it a whole foot this time. He continues putting until he’s almost at the hole. He putts it again, but despite everything, despite his aim being perfect, the ball goes for the hole…

…and hops right over it.

Michael blinks at the ball, very confused. “What?” He whispers.

“You hit it too hard, try it again.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, but every time he hits the ball, something goes wrong. To your average mini golf player, this would be frustrating. But to someone who has never even heard of mini golf before, it’s just baffling.

“Try… I don’t know man! How are you this bad at mini golf?!” Monty sighs.

“I don’t know!” Michael says, accidentally hitting the ball. It flies seamlessly into the hole. The course shoots out a little bit of confetti to signify the success.

Michael and Monty look at it for a bit before Michael throws his club down in celebration, “WOOO!! I DID IT! How many points did I get!”

Monty looks down at his scoreboard, “47.”

“WOOO-!”

“That’s a bad thing.”

Michael stops his celebration, “Wait what?” 

“Yeah, don’t you know how golf works?”

“Nope!” Michael says confidently, “Uncle Henry would take me and my friends out to the golf course, but we never really knew what we were doing. We mainly hit stuff as hard as we could.” He swings his club to demonstrate. Monty confiscates it. 

“Ok, well, in golf, the less points you have, the better.”

Michael’s face shrinks up in disgust, “Why?”

Monty glares, “Because it’s easier to count strokes than make up some kind of point system. Now c’mon, we’ve got 17 more holes left.”

If Michael was drinking he would have done a spit take, “17 holes?! Why?” He whines and falls face first on the floor.

“What? Do you not like mini golf?” Monty asks, scandalized.

Michael lifts his head and pouts at him, “No.”

“Well, too bad, we’re playing mini golf.” Michael loudly whines as Monty flips him over and drags him by the leg.

The second hole goes as expected. Monty gets a hole in one while Michael completely fumbles at the mere idea of elevated ground.

Eventually they make it to the third hole, getting lapped by at least 7 groups along the way. 

Michael’s on his 28th putt when a little boy and his father run up to the two of them, “MONTY!!” The boy screams as he practically tackles Monty in a hug. His skin looks to be in patches, some parts lighter than others. It’s the strangest thing Michael has ever seen.

He can’t judge though; his skin is deep purple.

The two have a moment together as the kid seems to have the exact same thought process that Michael has.

The dad runs up to them, completely out of breath, “I am so sorry to bother you. We’ve been looking all over for you because-”

“You’re the strongest, you’re the best! And if I get a picture with you-”

“He thinks it will keep kids from picking on him.” The father finishes in a whisper. Monty looks at the dad, then the kid.

He breaks out into a golden smile, “Of course kid, how could I miss a photo op like this?!”  He picks up the kid and power jumps over to a cool waterfall, “and don’t worry, once those kids see this photo, they’ll know not to mess with you!” The two brainstorm while Michael and the father walk over there.

“Thank you again for sparing your time.” The father says to Michael, “You don’t know how much this means to us.”

Michael blinks at the stranger, “It’s no problem at all, really.”

“Again, thank you. I hope he remembers this fondly. That’s all I can really ask for.”

Michael looks at him, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, well- You know how kids are. Even if he gets this picture… I mean, you remember school, right? I can’t imagine the kids were very kind to you.” The father says with an empty laugh, gesturing to all of Michael.

Michael stares at him, like his words are a riddle that went right over his head, “Oh!” He gasps in realization, “Oh! You mean,” he giggles, “Sorry, I wasn’t born like this.”

The father blinks at him, “You weren’t? Then how did-”

“We’re ready!” The kid shouts. The father forgets the conversation at hand and pulls out his camera.

“OK everyone, say cheese!” The father cheerly states.

“Arg!”

The next 15 seconds might be the second worst 15 seconds ever since he got scooped.

The first thing he sees is Monty playfully holding the kid’s head to his mouth, like he’s about to eat him.

The next thing he sees is Evan’s blood trickling down onto the wooden bridge.

His body moves without input, without direction. He dives at Monty, knocking the animatronic over and causing the boy to fall and scrape his knee on the wood.

Then there’s blood. So much blood. It’s on his hands, his uniform, his face, the kid is bleeding. The kid is bleeding and it’s all his fault. God, there’s so much blood! It’s splattered on his face and shirt, sputtering from the golden monster that haunts his worst nightmares. He watches as they take Evan out of the beast and there’s so much more! It flows down like a river to a lake and he did this this is all his fault how could he-

He watches helplessly as someone takes the kid Evan someone away.

Everyone is watching him.

Everyone hates him.

He rushes away from everyone, locking himself in the storage space, vomiting everything he’s ever ingested. His nausea only grows when he realizes where he is. There’s a body in here. He knows there’s a body in here. He’s seen it, why does no one care? Why does no one care until it’s too late He could have saved them He should have saved them WHY COULDN’T HE SAVE THEM?-

“Hey, Michael, look at me.”

“I can’t-”

“Yes you can. Follow my breaths ok?

“Uncle Henry I can’t-”

“Deep breaths ok? Deep breaths.”

“He’s fucking dead.”

“Not yet. (Who is?)”

“Don’t lie to me. Evan’s dead.”

“Kid- (Who is Evan?)”

“It was just a prank; it was meant to be a prank. I'm sorry I’m so so sorry.”

“It-it,” Henry sighs, trying to hold his tongue, like his next words are a call of surrender, “It happens. (What do you mean? What happened?)”

And they are.

“How could you say that? How could you get used to that? How did you not see him taking them? Are you that blind? Are you that stupid? This one wasn’t like the rest. This one was my fault! Don’t you know what happened to the others? He killed them, didn’t you know that? How did you not hear their screams and cries? Are you that fucking deft? Do you think this is just normal? Do you even give a shit? How did you not see the bullshit he feeds them? You’ve known him since college how the flying fuck did you not know how did you not know he killed them How did you not know he killed your FUCKING DAUGHTER?-

Steady hands are placed on his shoulders and the commands to breathe are given again. It feels… different this time, Henry normally can’t get him to calm down, but this voice is… strange. They don’t understand him, but they’re calm, calm in a way he’s never seen.  He breathes, following his guide's instructions, one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

He blinks his eyes open, finding himself not in the springlock storage and instead on the cold tile of the pizzaplex. Because he works here, and he is having a panic attack.

Uncle Henry isn’t the one coaching him out of it, either. That would be his boss, Vanessa. He gets a squeak of a sorry out before she pulls him in the tightest hug he’s ever known. It’s probably not that hard since he’s just skin but still. 

They just sit there for a moment. His panic and embarrassment slowly seeps out of him, leaving him just… exhausted, and he feels so safe. Safe, like he can go wherever without the threat of vengeful spirits. Safe, like he can tease the kid who lives here without reminding him of some unspoken trauma. Safe, like at any time him and his co-worker can go into the break room and watch shitty soap operas and talk about shitty dads and not have to worry about shit. 

He tries to speak, but the words don’t seem to leave. Ness pulls him up. He can barely stand but still gives her a soft smile. Dammit he feels like cracker crumbs. A part of him is screaming at him to move, check shit, apologize, he’s got a job to do. But another part, that stupid, childish part just wants to curl up in the safe room and stay with his only human companion. God, doesn’t he have some dignity left?

Know what? Fuck it, he doesn’t.

Ness is sitting at a computer desk. A drink and some take out sit next to the keyboard. She’s got two monitors, some well worn cat ear headphones and a mouse shaped mouse with a tail for the cord. It’s cute, and clearly from when she was in high school. Her chair is new, high quality leather. She’s got a pretty neat setup, much better than any of his old offices.

He takes two steps forward and collapses next to her, resting his arms on the armrest of her chair. She looks surprised, almost mad, but her expression changes to something, something he can’t quite define, it’s not pity…

He chooses to ignore her, resting his head against Ness’s luxury swivel chair. That is until he hears a click, opening his eyes to see her holding back her giggles, weird light box in hand. He glares at her with all he can muster, which must not be much cause she snaps another photo of him, openly laughing. 

He lets his expression fall, keeping a piece of disgruntlement. Sparing a glance at her computer screen, Michael sees that Ness has 15 tabs open, ranging from Fredbear family diner to a vintage auction that shows she won something yesterday. She’s opening a new tab, researching Freddy Fazbear murders. She seems upset at the results, most of them pertaining to the pizzaplex. Weird. Why is she looking this up anyway?

Oh right, the breakdown. He thought she was Uncle Henry.

Uncle Henry, that’s such a childish name. When was the last time he called him that? Before the bite? No, no, after the bite, but definitely before the sui-

“Penny for your thoughts?” He looks at her, tired and dead inside and out. He shakes his head. She does a slightly disappointed hum before going back to dead silence.

That lasted about 30 seconds, “I’m guessing something happened? This seems worse than all the others.” He wants to tell her that they all have triggers, that they’re just something that he deals with, that it’s what he deserves. Besides she’s his boss, he can’t bother her.

“You know my therapist says talking about it might make you feel better. I’m gonna find out from Monty anyway.”

He shouldn’t, this place isn’t like the other Freddy establishments. 

He looks back to the computer. Articles of missing children by the pizzaplex fill up the screen. And this is Freddy Fazbears.

He can’t make himself speak, no matter how hard he tries. So instead he claps his hands together in a sideways clap, spreading out the fingers in grabbing motion, or like he’s trying to scare her.

“Jaws? Did you watch a movie or something?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he brings his hands to his head, next to his temples. He’s not looking at her, just a straight forward gaze. He hasn't moved, the entire situation felt surreal. He was reliving the most cruel event in his life from the eyes of the victim. Ness isn’t laughing though, and he isn’t crying. It’s the horrific curiosity of what comes next and the tantalizing chill of the crunch.

He snaps his palms to his temples without warning. Ness’s confusion quickly turns over to realization. She scans the cameras for a distress signal, but finds nothing. Taking a deep breath, she goes back to her research.

He leans deeper into his chair, still unable to speak. Evan had this problem, he never thought it would happen to him. Silent tears start escaping despite his efforts.

Ness brushes a hand behind his head, “It’s ok, you can cry if you need to.”

Michael breaks, letting his tears stain the leather and his shaking affect the chair. Ness carefully cards her fingers along his scalp in comfort.

He calms down significantly. The two stay in a communal silence. Eventually Ness gets up and takes a decorative box out of the closet. 

“Here” She hands it to him, “I was gonna save this for the end of your first week, but I think you need it now. Hope you like it.” 

Michael takes the box and carefully opens the lid.

Inside is a vintage puppet doll from 1985. He remembers stocking these things when they first came out. It’s old and dusty and a slight bit faded, but it’s still in good condition, even with the weird rain droplets on it.

No wait, those are his tears.

He wants to say thank you, but nothing comes out. He tries again but is met with the same result. What is happening? Why is this happening? Why can’t he just fucking speak-

He stops himself, takes a deep breath, and repeats the words he always told Evan when this happened to him. It’s ok, this will pass, you don’t need to talk right now.

He still wants to thank her.

So he hugs her. He hugs her as hard as he can.

She hugs back and pats his back, “Better?” He nods, “Good.” They rest on the floor for a moment, “Wanna watch some shitty soap operas?”

Michael nods.

They’re about 4 hours into their soap opera marathon when Gregory practically breaks down the door.

“Fuck off!” Ness yells.

“Not today Bitch! It’s mini golf time!” Gregory yells back, hopping from foot to foot.

Michael groans, he does not want to play mini golf. He curls deeper into the couch, snuggling his new puppet plush closer. Even with his voice returning, he does not want to talk, or play mini golf. Let him be a couch potato until he finally finishes rotting.

Ness gets up immediately though, more out of obligation than excitement. She stretches out her arms and back, “Give us, like, five minutes.”

Gregory nods and dashes out of the door. Ness packs her stuff, goes to head out, then notices that Michael hasn’t moved. “K’mon, it’s Putt-Putt Night.” Michael groans. Ness grabs his arm and drags him up.

“But I don’t wanna play mini golf.” He whines.

“Shame.” Ness says curtly, “But we have to do this because it makes Gregory happy.”

“Lil brat’s happy enough annoying you.”

“Yes, but he really likes Mini Golf.”

“Ugh! Just, tell him I’ll tell him a story or something.”

“Nope,” Ness says confidently, “You’re going.” Because Michael’s as light as a feather it’s really easy to just drag him to mini golf, despite his protest.

“Ness! Whyyyy! Don’t forsake me like this!” Michael complanes, making no effort to get off the floor. Ness stops to pick up the puppet plush and put it in her bag. Michael raspberries her as she pries it from his cold, dead hands.

“It’s the mothly mini golf tournament.”

“Mothly? Not monthly?” 

“Yep, kinda happens whenever. Originally it happened whenever Monty wanted an ego boost but now it’s for his constant rematches against Gregory.” Ness says, slightly excited. Michael snorts.

Ness opens the door, “I brought him!” She yells. Everyone immediately looks at the dragged Michael.

“‘Sup.” He says with a little salute.

“I CALL MIKE!” Gregory yells as he runs over to Michael.

“What?” Vanessa asks. 

“We’re doing teams.” Freddy says, not particularly liking the fact that Michael is here, “Gregory, are you sure you want to team with him?”

“Yep!” Gregory says, clinging to Michael's leg, “With Mike by my side, I’ll crush you all EVEN HARDER!” Oh, oh! Does he think he’s good at this game? Does he think that Michael is just a master at everything he touches? Oh this sweet summer child.

Michael is going to disappoint him so much. 

He’s looking forward to it.

Freddy looks apprehensive at the situation. Honestly, he looks a bit worried, like an overprotective parent on their child's first day of school. Sure, Michael’s not the role model, but he at least recognizes the fact that Gregory should not see him as a role model. That’s gotta count for something, right?

Monty slings an arm around Freddy’s shoulder, “Aw, c’mon Fredbear!” Michael flinches, “If the kid wants to hang out with the new guy, let him hang out with the new guy!” He says with a villainous smile. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Freddy; he glares at it.

It does go unnoticed by Gregory, however, who is hard pressed on making the biggest mistake in his putt putt career, “Yeah Freddy, please?” The boy says with puppy dog eyes.

Freddy looks anywhere else, but the damage is done. It’s impossible for the bear to resist Gregory’s puppy dog eyes, “Alright, you two can be a team.”

“Yes!” Gregory fist pumps. Michael lightly chuckles a sinister chuckle.

“Hey, we have an odd number!” Chica points out, “Why don’t we make a girls squad?”

“Or a human squad!” Gregory eagerly suggests.

“Actually,” Ness interrupts, “I would like to be on Freddy and Monty’s team, if that’s alright with you guys.” She too notices Monty’s villainous smile. 

“I don’t see a problem with it. Monty?”

“That’s just fine!” He says, clearly seeing a problem with it. He can hear Monty’s teeth grind against each other.

Gregory blows raspberries at Monty, “Good luck, crock! Me and Mike are gonna blow you all out of the water!” Michael giggles to himself again. They’re gonna lose so badly. “Yeah, see! Even Mike’s confident!” He is not.

“Alrighty then! It’s you and me Roxy!” Chica chirps. They hi-five each other, fully prepared to get last place.

Chica and Roxy go first, mainly because Gregory and Monty were too busy bickering on who should go first. They do decently well, Roxy gets a hole in one while Chica gets a double. 

Monty, Freddy, and Vanessa go next. Monty gets a hole in one, naturally. Freddy takes 4 shots, missing the hole entirely on his first one. Monty suspiciously glares at him. He gives an uneasy shrug. Ness takes 2, not caring about the game at all.

Gregory and Michael are up next. Gregory gets a hole in one and is very cocky about it. He pats Michael on the back, fully expecting him to be brilliant.

Michael goes up next. He stretches out his arms, making a big show of it. Gregory gives him the biggest smile he’s ever seen. Michael steadies himself and putts.

The ball moves 4 inches with a hard left skew. Honestly it’s the best he’s ever done.

Everyone stares at him. He ignores them and putts again. The ball goes another two inches. No one says anything. They just take in his skills, his raw talent. He finishes the hole after 10 putts. 

Ness and Freddy give each other a look. They’re gonna have to self sabotage a lot harder to keep this even.

Gregory’s the first to break the silence, “What are you doing?!” He yells, “Are you trying to sabotage me?!”

“Yeah dude,” Roxy says in a menacing voice, “We don’t appreciate cheaters around here.” She takes a threatening step forward.

Chica grabs her arm, “Roxy, that’s rude! Don’t just assume things!”

“There’s no way he’s that bad at mini golf!”

Monty lets out a low laugh, it rises, becoming more manic and sinister, until it crescendos into a full blown villain laugh, “YOU FOOLS! THIS MAN HASN’T PLAYED A GAME OF MINI GOLF IN HIS LIFE! HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT WAS!” He burst into his triumphant villain laughter.

“Wow, way to just out me like that.” Michael says, no real malice in his voice. Everyone gasps.

“No, it can’t be…” Chica almost sobs.

“Impossible!” Roxy exclaims.

“You’ve never heard of Mini-Golf?” Freddy asks hesitantly.

“Not before today, no.”

“How is that fucking possible?!” Ness yells, “You’re from the 80s not the 1800s!”

“Hey it’s not my fault!” Michael defends, “Dad owned an entertainment franchise, said we didn’t need to go out for fun!”

Ness switches from outraged friend to story book detective in a heartbeat. He’s not entirely sure why she did that, “What?” He asks curtly, “Is there something on-”

It hits him like a bag of bricks. Realization practically slaps him across the face. He looks Ness directly in the eyes, “You heard nothing.”

She shoots him a cheeky smile, “An entertainment franchise, you say.”

“You heard nothing!”

“I heard everything!!”

“Both of you shut up!” Gregory barks, brat. “You!” He points an accusatory finger at Monty, “You may have tried to sabotage me-”

“You picked me yourself! He didn’t even say anything!”

“Shut up! -You may have tried to sabotage me, but you haven’t won yet! With the power of me and Mike’s friendship-” He ropes Michael into a side hug. Kid’s arm barely wraps around his leg,”-AND the power of Freddy’s sabotage-”

Monty interrupts “SO YOU ADMIT YOU’RE CHEATING, THAT YOU TWO ARE COLLUDING TOGETHER?!” 

“I ADMIT TO NOTHING! As I was saying -anything is possible!” Gregory states with a confident stance. Monty glares at him, Ness and Freddy ready to hold him back if needed. Chica and Roxy look side to side, as if they’re about to witness a bar fight.

Ok, so this is happening.

The three groups start swinging left and right. Freddy and Ness up the sabotage so much it’s not even funny. Honestly Monty should have beaten them a long time ago, but hey, at least it’s still interesting, he guesses. Who’s gonna get second place?

Yeah, second, because Chica and Roxy have been playing normally and are technically in first, but no one cares about them, noooo. Let’s focus on the nine-year-old who has beef with an animatronic gator.

Michael is tired. 

He’s tired of mini golf and Freddy and Monty fighting. He’s tired of Ness acting like nothing is wrong. 

And he’s especially tired of this kid screaming at him like a drill sergeant.

“You call that a putt?! Put some muscle into it!” Gregory is such a brat. Everyone lets him get away with everything and lets him win at everything. He’s treated like a prince for no reason. He acts recklessly with no respect for others or any idea on how his actions hurt people.

He’s gonna kill someone like that.

Michael putts the ball, “Are you kidding? Where were you aiming that thing?” Michael is going to do something to this child. He doesn’t know what, but it’s not going to be pretty.

“Gregory, maybe you should take a break.” Freddy suggested gently.

“Yeah, think up a new strategy, cause this one ain't working.” Monty taunts, like an asshole. Michael’s sure to them it’s all good fun, but he is going to take Monty’s bass and use it to beat him to a pulp.

Gregory screams in frustration, “I would need to if he wasn’t so USELESS!” He points to Michael.

Sorry he’s such a burden.

Freddy shoots Gregory that parental look the other kids always got, apologize. Gregory just huffs and ignores him.

The group come up on the final hole. Despite Freddy’s and Ness’s best sabotaging efforts, they get a sizable lead.

The final hole is pretty complicated. It has a windmill and alternating paths. Gregory gets a hole in one with some trick shot, but even he recognizes there's no way to win with Michael on his team.

“Ok, ok, how are we gonna play this?” Gregory starts pacing around. Michael’s considering going for the shot right now, just to get it over with. The boy mumbles to himself while pacing.

“Tick tock, little guy.” Monty taunts. God, does he have to be such an asshole?

Michael’s not in the mood for the groups lighthearted bullshit.

“Ok,” Gregory stops in front of Michael and breaks it down like a coach, “You’re gonna do a Hail Mary.”

“A what?”

“Just hit the ball as hard as you can, hopefully-”

“I'mma stop you right there, that’s a bad idea.”

Gregory glares at him, “Well we don’t have another option.”

“We could take third place with pride.”

“Yeah,” Monty taunts, again, “Just accept last place.” 

Gregory growls at Monty, then pushes Michael towards the starting line.

Michael catches Monty’s eyes. He glares at him with deranged eye sockets, every emotion displayed intensely on his face. He carefully mouths ‘I will decommission you. Permanently.’

Monty’s face falls into terror. He quickly grabs Freddy’s attention while Michael putts.

“You call that a swing?! I need a Hail Mary swing!” Oh well, guess they’ll just- “Mogul!” 

“Huh?” 

“Gregory, you can’t call a mogul when it’s not your turn.” Freddy explains.

“Wait guys,” Michael interrupts, “What’s a mogul?”

“A mogul is when you reset the ball back to the start position.” Chica helpfully supplies.

Oh. Oh!

OH HECK NO!! 

“He’s my teammate so I can call a mogul when I want to!” Gregory screams. Despite Michael's mute protest, He resets the ball, “Now actually swing this time!”

Michael stares at the child. Every bit of malice from his entire life manifest itself and targets this whinny, bratty, spoiled child.

Oh I’ll show you a swing.

Michael charges back his swing, like he is 14 again.

Monty quickly realizes what’s happening “Wait Mike Don’t WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”

Michael looks Monty dead in the eyes. The gator looks at him, pleadingly. Michael gives the most manic smile his face can muster. He hits the ball full force.

It flies out of the court at mach 2 and bounces off the fake plastic Monty’s top jaw, causing it to crash on the ground. It bounces off the walls with the ferocity of a wild racoon. Patrons scream in terror as the golf ball destroys the golf course. It snaps one of the cords holding up a light fixture and the light crashes to the ground, half of it still hanging up. Michael scoops up Gregory as the ball flies towards the group, bouncing off from where the child once stood. The ball shoots up and embeds itself in the ceiling, slightly smoking.

The group stare at the golf ball, completely speechless. Monty is completely distraught at the destruction of his golf course. Good. Karma, bitch.

Ness pulls out a radio and her voice comes over the intercom, “Due to technical issues Monty’s Golf Course is permanently closed for the day.” A faint cacophony of groans and whines can be heard from outside the golf course.

Michael stares at his destruction in disbelief, “Do-Do I have to pay for this?” He asks in a small, raspy voice.

Ness places a hand on his shoulder, “Thankfully no.”

He almost collapses in relief, “Oh thank Gooooood.” He pops up, new vigor in his step, “Welp I better head off, you know. Gotta do my job… somewhere else.” He not-so-subtly excuses himself back to his soap operas.

“Hey! Don’t just run away!” Ness yells, running after him. The animatronics watch the two awkwardly.

“Alright Gregory,” Chica says, “I think that was enough play time for today.”

The boy is as stiff as a board. He just stares at Michael’s destruction, still processing it all. Chica gives Roxy a pleading look.

“We should get him to the daycare.” Roxy answers.

“Yeah, you’re right.” The two pick him up like a cardboard cutout and leave.

Freddy stares at the completely destroyed mini golf course. Monty, after speedrunning the five stages of grief, pats Freddy’s back, staring out with him.

“Welp. You got him tomorrow, good luck.”

The gator leaves with no other farewell. Feddy just looks at the completely ruined golf course, finally processing everything.

What on earth did they hire?

Chapter Text

Mornings never agreed with Michael, even as a child. Just because he woke up before the crack of dawn didn’t mean he wanted to. He would always curse out the sun whenever it blinded him and made him burn himself. He still hates the sun, but he’s learned to hate the night more. He shuffles to breakfast, the only thing that could fix his sour mood.

Gregory’s making some sort of sugary monstrosity crafted from last night's leftovers and what cereal Chica smuggled in. Michael blankly watches Gregory add a ‘Healthy’ amount of sprinkles to the milky hell he calls cereal. He forces himself to look for his ‘Boring old geezer’ cereal (at least that’s what he used to call it as a kid) that’s been molding in the back of the cabinets. His hand searches the shelves and he pushes himself to his tippy toes to find his box. 

“It’s gone isn’t it?”

Gregory looks up from his concoction, “What’s gone?”

Michael lets his head bonk against the cabinets, “The cereal at the back.”

“Oh yeah,” Gregory answers, “Freddy threw it out last night. Said ‘No creature, living or dead, should eat that.’”

Michael rolls his eyes, “It’s just some mold. Like I haven’t eaten mold before.” He slams the cabinet close, “Do we have anything else?”

“Can’t you cook?” Gregory asks.

“Not enough time.” Gregory nods and holds up his ‘meal’, “ No. ” Gregory glares at him and starts eating his abomination. Michael palms his face and groans, “What is wrong with your taste buds?” He remembers when he made a sugar-filled poison after Mom left. He took one bite and nearly choked out a lung.

“What’s wrong with your skin!” The child fires back, all too proud of himself. Michael seethes at the small boy’s giggles.

“I’ve got work to do.” He grumbles, slamming the door open. 

To his surprise, Ness nervously stands at the door, “Hey Michael!” she squeaks.

“Hey Ness,” He answers in the most tired voice he’s ever heard, “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, um…” She bites her lip, “So, you’re not hanging out with Freddy today–”

“Oh thank god!” He sighs, nearly collapsing.

“Because you’re stuck in the daycare.”

Michael blinks, “I’m sorry?”

Ness sucks in a breath, “So you know the birthday party that’s happening today?” Michael nods,  “Yeah, the mother rented out the entire building and she doesn’t want to see you.”

Michael nearly spits out his drink, “The entire building?!”

Ness smiles sympathetically, “Everything except the daycare.”

“Damn,” Michael thinks aloud, “Almost as if hiring a rotting corpse was a bad idea!”

“Excuse you! I’ll have you know hiring a corpse has been the best business decision I’ve ever made!” She snaps her fingers with a cheeky smile, “Now c’mon, Moon wants to talk to you.” She takes his hand and drags him away. 

“Wait, why does Moon want to talk to me?” Michael asks nervously. 

 Vanessa shrugs, “He talks to everyone. Something in his programming. It’s best to indulge him.”

Michael narrows his eyes, “Are you sure? This seems… weird.”

Ness stops walking and takes a deep breath, “Okay, I’m going to be entirely honest with you.” She turns around, lips pressed together, “I told you about my therapist, right?”

Michael steps back and raises an eyebrow, “You told me you have a therapist.”

She hisses like a broken pipe, “Moon is my therapist.” Michael stares at her, unimpressed, “Now listen–”

Michael spins on his heel and walks in the other direction, “Nope,”

Ness quickly follows him, “I don’t know if that’s why–”

“Nuh-uh,”

“You can’t talk–”

“I’m taking my chances.”

Ness huffs, “Michael!” She grabs his hand. He freezes in her grip. She takes a deep breath and sighs, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She lets him go, “If you want to stay in the main area that’s perfectly fine. But Moon’s always available.” Ness leaves him alone.

Michael ignores the dry taste in his mouth. He wanders around the pizzaplex aimlessly, doing his best to ignore his hunger. The main animatronics are entertaining the birthday party, so he goes to the arcade.

Or he tries to anyway. The door’s locked when he first arrives. He tries his key, but it doesn’t work. He knocks on the door, “Music Man! Let me in!” The giant doesn’t answer. Michael shrugs and climbs into the vent. He hears little pitter-patters in front of him. Michael continues to climb as a symbol echoes through the vent. What the?

A little Music Man scutters down the vent, slamming its symbols. Michael backs up immediately and eventually falls out of the vent. Mini Music Man drops a note in front of Michael. He picks it up and carefully reads the chicken scratch.

Fud ih Dacar.

Michael has no idea if that means daycare or a car. Do they even have a car? He should ask someone about the car. He can’t ask Ness or the main animatronics. Music Man has made it clear he’s enjoying his day off. That leaves… Moon.

Michael groans, “Fiiiiinnee!” He begrudgingly heads over to the daycare. He takes the backway, avoiding everything else.

When he finally sneaks into the daycare, he finds it surprisingly dark, “Hello? Is anyone home?” Mechanical sounds whisper around him, almost too quiet to hear.

“Naughty children must be punished,” A spine-chilling voice whispers behind him. Michael whirls around and tazes whatever’s in front of him. The being quickly moves out of the way, “Wow, you’re jumpy.” The being (Sun?) flies out to the middle of the room, Michael’s taser trained on him. Beady red eyes scan the corpse as he collects his breath, “Geez, Sun was right. You are fucked up.”

“Says the thing with red eyes.” He breathes, “What happened to Sun?”

“You know, you’re quite rude.” The animatronic– he’s pretty sure it’s an animatronic– clings to the wall again, “Demanding things and pointing out my insecurities.” He raises the taser again, “Sun is taking a nap. Having to run an entire day by themself tuckered them out.” Michael slowly lowers his taser, “Not like you helped.”

Michael glares at him, “Aren’t therapists supposed to be nice to you?”

“Am I your therapist? I didn’t think you would want one of those.”

Michael bubbles up, flustered, “I–I’m just here for food. Do we have a car?”

Moon nods, “Yes, but I believe the Mini Man’s stole it this morning.” Michael groans and falls face first into pillows, “Nap time already?”

“Fuck you,” Michael says blankly. He rolls over, “I’m so hungry… Why?”

“Because you’re human. Humans need rest and fule like everything else.”

The corpse sighs, “I stopped being human a long time ago.” 

“Then perhaps you just think you’re human.” Michael stews in Moon’s words, staring at the star-coated ceiling. Moon wanders off clean or something.

Michael thinks aloud, fully aware the animatronic can hear him. Maybe they can help him figure it out, “I… I know some things work like that. I can’t break my neck but I can break my arm… Kinda wish I was more careful as a kid.”

They sit silently, “If you don’t mind me asking, what was your childhood like?” 

“I do mind you asking,” Michael pouts, before settling into silence, "... I miss it."

"Many miss the simplicities of childhood." The silence lulls, "Are you willing to share something specific? Maybe something about your family?"

His guard's up, "...What are you pushing for?"

Sharp, red pupels look down at him, "We've noticed you jumping, switching something off in your mind. You're burying something-"

"It's already buried." He snaps, "And there's no reason to dig it up."

The eyes stare, "Sometimes, our memories frighten us. Something happend, or it's something we did. They make themselves large, too big to confront. But if you don't, they'll haunt you forever and ever." Michael doesn't give that the dignity of a response, "We can try to bury them, trap them in layers of dirt, but they will still be there. I wonder what you-"

Michael throws a pillow at them. They scurry into their room, leaving Michael in the darkness. 

He lays there for who knows how long. Something scutters into the room. A lot of things scutter into the room. Michael opens his eyes to see an army of Music Men slowly surrounding him. He’s startled straight up and backs into a corner. The Music Men give five feet of leeway. He hears more scutter sounds. They get louder and louder as something is brought to him. A box of take-out lands in front of him. He hesitantly inches towards the food. The Music Men watch him intensely. 

“Thank you?” He asks hesitantly. The Music Men seem satisfied and leave him be. 

He carefully eats the given food. It smells nice and doesn’t taste poisoned. He’s not even sure if he can be poisoned. 

The Music Men brought him food. He said he was hungry and they brought him food. Huh, “Wonder why they did that…”

“They care about you,” Moon replies, climbing up the wall, “That’s their way of showing it.”

Michael plops back down onto the pillows, “Huh, I didn’t think Music Man liked me that much.”

Moon climbs along the ceiling, “Not many people are willing to climb through vents for the lost Music Men. I’m sure he’s grateful.” 

Michael shrugs, “I guess. I was just doing my job.” He looks up at the starry ceiling, “This place is… weird.”

“Weird?” Moon asks, “How so?”

“This is a Freddy’s.” He thinks aloud, “And it’s built over the most haunted of all Freddy’s, yet… Nothing bad happened? All the animatronics are nice? It’s… It’s wild. Too good to be true.”

Moon doesn’t answer at first. When he does it sounds like a sigh of admission, “This place is just like any other Freddy’s.”

Michael laughs, “You only say that because you haven’t seen the other.”

Moon nods, “That’s true for the others. Not for me.” Michael raises an eyebrow. Moon repels down to his level, “I’m sure you’ve noticed the glitches in the animatronics: Chica’s eating habits, Monty’s aggressive nature, Roxy’s superiority complex.”

Michael nods along, “Freddy’s fatherly impulse.”

“No that’s just Freddy,” Moon says, “But the rest weren’t always like that. There was… a virus. It infected us, changed us,” Moon chuckles, “Even I was affected.”

Michael sits up, “So everyone has what’s left of this virus?”

“Sun doesn’t; they were never infected. Freddy got cured somehow, and so did Vanessa.”

Michael jerks, “Vanessa?!”

“Of course,” Moon says with a smile, “She was patient zero.”

Michael blinks, “How does that–? That’s not possible.”

“Oh? Is the rotting corpse calling something impossible?” Michael glares at Moon. They ignore him and move on, “I don’t know exactly what happened but something else was formed. Something called Vanny.”

“Vanny?” Michael repeats, thinking about the spray paint in the shared room.

“Vanny hacked the rest of the animatronics, corrupting them to kidnap children and bring them to her.”

Michael sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, “Those children wouldn’t happen to be around, would they?”

Moon shakes their head, “Every one of them was murdered. Gregory’s the only one who survived.” Michael looks down, taking a moment to grieve the newest lost, “Just like every other Freddy’s.”

He jerks up, “How do you know that?”

“We were made by the owner himself, his eyes and ears on the ground. I know more about the company than anyone alive, second only to the owner.” Moon leans down close to Michael, “Now, how do you know so much about the company?”

Michael laughs, “I lived it.”

Moon backs away, satisfied but concerned with that answer. Michael lays back down, “Do you want to talk about it?” They suggest.

Michael looks up at them, “Not really… It’s over now.”

Moon shrugs, “I suppose it is. Still, talking to people might help you process it.” 

Process, like how the robots process data to create images and follow their programming. He’s not having a processing issue, is he? He sees things fine, thinks fine, and has no major motor issues or- Why is he thinking like this? “I’m good, my moters are fine, optics work, and my 'AI' is working wonders.”

Moon just stares at him, “Did… did you just compare yourself to a robot?” 

Michael smirks, "Thought it would be helpful to put in your language." The poor bot didn't deserve that, but Michael deserves a little bit of smark, as a treat. 

Moon takes the robot equivalent of a deep breath, “My stars, what am I going to do with you.”

Michael frowns, “You aren’t in charge. Why are you talking like a grandfather?”

“I’m the one who takes stock of everything and reports back to corporate. I have to track everything that changes and report it.” Michael pales, “I haven’t reported you yet.”

Michael releases a breath and looks at Moon with confusion, “Why?”

Moon shrugs, “You don’t seem ready yet.”

Michael just stares at him, “Ouch but… thank you. I’m not ready.”

Moon smugly smiles at him, “Admission is the first step to healing.”

“I’m leaving.” Michael gets up to check on the others.

Moon chucks a bottle of lavender oil at him, “Smell this if you feel panicked. It’s supposed to help.”

Michael looks down at the oil, “Thanks?” He pockets the bottle.

“I’m always here if you need to talk.” Moon smiles a half-creepy smile, “Just make sure the lights are off.” The animatronic flips away with a cackle. 

The insane interaction makes Michael smile as he wanders the Pizzaria. With no one but the S.T.A.F.F bots around the place feels empty, almost abandoned. Michael can hear the celebration in the other room. 

He heads over to the arcade, “Alright, let’s try this again.” He knocks on the door and waits. The vent opens and a note falls out.

Dd U git uor fuuuud? dacar.

Michael sighs, “Yes I got my food at the daycare, and I talked to Moon. I came by to say thank you. That was very nice of you. It meant a lot to me.” This is getting awkward, isn’t it? When was the last time he went out of his way to thank someone? When was the last time someone deserved it?

The door opens and a giant hand lays out in front of him. Michael steps into the hand and sits down. DJ Music man lifts Michael and sets him right next to him, “Hey,” Michael smiles. Music Man waves, “Thanks again for the food. I don’t know what I would have done without it.” Music Man nods and pats his head.

Michael reclines next to Music Man, “It’s a shame to rent out the entire plex and not use the arcade.” Music Man shrugs, silently fiddling with his records, “You don’t have to do nice things for me.” The purple man states awkwardly, “I don’t deserve it.”

Music Man picks Michael up, “Do not burrito me!” Music Man puts Michael down, “I’ve… I did some horrible things in the past and… I was really mean to you when we first met and… I guess I’m just wondering why? Why did you help me?”

Music Man crawls and picks up a plastic medal with his thumb and pointer finger. He hands the medal to Michael. While small to Music Man’s standards, the medal is a beast to Michael; it’s wider than his body. Michael holds the surprisingly light medal in his hands. 

The medal reads CONGRATULATIONS BUD! In big bubbly font. Michael looks at Music Man baffled. Music Man takes the medal and flips it over.

You earned it, is engraved on the back. Michael wipes away the tears he knows only he can feel. An unfamiliar, warm feeling fills his chest. He… He hasn’t. He hasn’t earned it. He hasn’t earned their kindness, not yet.

But he will, he promises that.

Michael hands the medal back to Music Man and checks the cameras. He double-checks the renter's paperwork while he’s at it.

It’s 7:30 pm. The party was supposed to end at 6 pm. 

Michael hops off Music Man’s DJ platform, “Welp, I’ve got a party to crash. Nice talking to you.” Music Man nods and gives him a thumbs up as if to say he can do anything. Michael smiles and heads over to the main area.

The smell of birthday cake and overworked animatronics fills his nose as he enters the ballon-covered room. There are banners and streamers, Freddy’s singing on stage, it’s exactly like–

Michael smells his lavender oil and takes a deep breath. He’s got this; he can do anything.

On a second examination, this birthday party is pretty sad. Most of the kids are either running around for attention or tuckered out, but they can’t go home because their parents are taking full advantage of Freddy’s meal and parental services. There’s one kid still cheering on the poor animatronics as they corral and care for the children (They all need a nap in Michael’s opinion). Above them all, there’s a suspicious light reflection in one of the cameras’ blindspots. 

Michael hides in the shadows and quietly calls Gregory, “Are you stalking Freddy?” He whispers when the kid answers.

“How can you see me?!” Gregory nearly shouts. Michael winces and makes sure his cover isn’t blown.

“I’m just that good.” Michael smiles, “You can just come down here, you know.”

Gregory scoffs, “I tried that, but that stupid lady yelled at me!” 

Michael sees Freddy very subtly, almost as if he’s suppressing it, glares at the mom who doesn’t want him around, “The redhead?”

“Yeah,” Gregory answers, “She called me a street rat.”

“How rude,” Michael remarks, “If it makes you feel any better I’m pretty sure she hates me too.”

“Aw, no way!” Gregory hypes, “You wanna help me free Freddy?”

“Free Freddy?” Michael asks with the tone of a responsible adult. Gregory yelps and the light disappears, “Don’t hang up! I might be in on it.”

“Well, okay,” Gregory starts, “Freddy looks pretty tired, right? So I’m going to go to war and free him.”

God that sounds just like something he and his friends would do, “Okay, so they’re actually overtime on their reservation, so let me try something, and if it doesn’t work we’ll try your plan.”

“Okay,” Gregory agrees, “Meet me in Sun and Moon’s secret room.”

“Sun and Moon’s secret what?!” Gregory hangs up. Michael rubs a hand over his face, takes a deep breath, and applies some lavender oil to his collar and sleeves. 

Michael never allowed people to rent out the restaurant in either of his venues so he looks back and thinks of what his dad would do. Honestly, it was really vague. William spoke magic and people just did what he wanted them to. When a customer was over their reservation he would surprise them and speak in a way that was polite enough that you wouldn’t register the threat unless he was talking to you. They always paid William full price and left almost as soon as they arrived.

Michael takes another deep breath of lavender and sneaks behind the lady, “Hello,” He starts. The woman screams and whips her purse at him. Michael’s battle-hardened reflexes catch it and lightly tosses it back, “I’m sorry to say but you’re over your reservation.”

“What are you doing here?!” The woman gawks, brushing off her purse.

“I work here,” Michael answers with his father’s customer service smile, “and your reservation has ended. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The lady scoffs, “We reserved the Pizzaplex for 8 hours.”

“Indeed,” Michael smiles, “You reserved the Pizzaplex from 10 am to 6 pm. It is currently 7:43 pm.”

The woman scoffs, “We arrived late!” She jutifies.

Michael cut through the conversation of ‘that doesn’t change anything’ to ‘leave or something horrible might happen to you’, just like his father, “Madam, I hate to say this but you need to leave. There are dire consequences if you don’t.”

The woman gasps, “Are you going to call the police?!”

“Of course not,” Michael answers imminently, a sicking sweetness in his voice, “None of us want to involve the police. I’m… just advising you to leave.”

The lady staggers back, “Are you threatening me?!”

“Why would I ever do that?” Michael asks with a chuckle, “It’s just some friendly advice. We have a reputation, after all.”

“SECURITY!” She screams.

Whatever creepy, fucked up threat Michael would have said shatters with his character as this bitch calls security on the security guard! THE ONLY SECURITY GUARD!!

Any shred of intimidation or status Michael commanded dies as he bursts out laughing, completely baffled, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

She gasps dramatically, “Don’t curse in front of my children! I’m calling security!” Michael lets her type in the number, holding back his giggles at her smug smile.

Michael’s watch rings as she waits on the phone. He answers it with the widest grin he can manage, “Hello?”

She turns from the phone to Michael and hangs up in a huff, “We are not leaving. My kids are having a good time and you’re not ruining it for them.

Your kids are crying under the table because you’ve stuck them in stimulation hell for 8 hours, “Alright,” Michael shrugs, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He walks out of the room as suave as possible. The moment he’s out of earshot he calls Gregory, laughing like a maniac, “Gregory, where the hell are we meeting?”

Michael loves the war room. It’s not meant to be a war room, but Sun’s out today and Moon’s too tired to care, so it’s a war room. Michael’s giggling like a maniac, tearing down drawings and slapping big, blank posters in their place. Gregory writes down ideas on a ‘good, meh, NOOO!!’ list, “Okay so no water balloons and no explosions… Anything else we want to restrict?”

“There are no rules in war,” Michael whispers confidently.

“I’m pretty sure there are.” Gregory responds, “Also that’s not an answer.”

“EMPs” He answers, “Don’t want to mess up the animatronics.”

“EMPs,” Gregory writes that down. Michael goes back to drawing up war plans, “Is it just me or do you seem… happier than usual?”

Michael bounces on his toes, “Me and my friends used to wage war against customers all the time! It’s a… time-honored tradition!” He rips off a page and shows it to Gregory, “So our main goal is to rout the enemy and free the hostages.” He uses a pencil to point things out on a map, “The enemy is hiding behind civilian targets to occupy the Pizzaplex for as long as possible. This will not stand!”

Gregory cheers “Yeah! We’re gonna kick them out! What’s the plan, big man?”

Michael smiles, “Well, if we do this right, the hostages should be able to protect the civilians, now,” He rubs his hands together in excitement, “The plan is…”

8:30 pm, one hour and thirty minutes before Ness’s shift. The party is dead, a rotting corpse like himself that the parents demand to haunt. The kids are crying around the animatronics, their bedtime long past. The room is silent beyond the adult’s chatter. No one even notices as Michael lines up his shot. 

Right when the lady gets more cake, right when she’s over the table, Michael takes the shot. A BB bullet cuts through a pinata’s cord. The pinata crashes into the table, launching the cake in her face.

“What the hell?!” She screams. The Mini Music Men clash their symbols together quietly, like giggles, “Who’s there?”

“I told you to leave.” Michael’s raspy voice echoes through the intercom, “I tried to warn you.”

The children startle as the lights flicker, “Don’t worry boys and girls,” Freddy states calmly, “These are just some technical issues that I’m sure our S.T.A.F.F bots will figure out.”

“Oh yes,” Michael agrees, “The kids will be just fine. I wish could say the same for the parents.”

The lady gawks, “What– What are you talking about?!”

“Haven’t you heard the rumors? Don’t you know the history of Freddy’s?” Michael mutes his com and shoots out a light, “This place is haunted, you know.”

The lady goes blanc, “Wh–what?” 

“Missing children, lost to time and space, roam the halls at night. They wake up like they used to, and wander, looking for any friend or foe.” The Mini Music Men block some vents and a cold breeze swirls through the vents, “They’re fine with children, just another friend to play with! Adults, however…” The vents creak and thud as a bloody boy crawls through, “Well, we never did figure out how they disappeared. I don’t think they figured it out either.”

The woman shakes and stares as the thudding gets louder and louder. The children either run to the animatronics or to their parents, “Everything is going to be alright,” Freddy comforts, protecting the children. 

The thudding turns into banging as the vent grate is punched off the vent. The lady stares at a bloody, bruised, Gregory. He groans and rasps as he slowly looks at the room. The ‘ghost’ makes eye contact.

Gregory screeches and charges the lady, only crawling on his arms. She screams and runs out of the building with the rest of her party.

Gregory bursts out laughing as he picks himself up, “Oh man, you were right! That was priceless!”

Michael repels down a curtain, “You had the nerve to doubt me?” He says with faux pain, “I’m shook, how could you?” The two break into sweet giggles.

“You… planned this?” Freddy scutinizes Michael with disdain and confusion, “What on… Why would you ever think–?!”

“Relax, bud,” Michael interrupts, “They were over their reservation.”

Freddy gapes at him, stunned, “That– That doesn’t mean you can just–!”

“You should have seen the look on her face!” Gregory cuts in, “I was all like ‘Blreah!’ and she was like ‘AAAHH!’! That was hilarious!” 

Freddy furrows his mechanical brows and kneels to his son, “Gregory, you shouldn’t scare people like that.”

“Aww, but why not?” He whines, “She was a bad person!”

Freddy shakes his head, “You could deeply hurt someone like that. Not everyone is as strong and brave as you. What you think is a harmless prank could affect someone for their entire life. You need to be–”

“Oh shut up,” Michael rolls his eyes, digging his fingers into his arms, “It was a fucking prank, don’t get your circuits in a twist.” He leans against the door and refuses to look Freddy in the eyes.

Freddy gets up, speechless, “Michael–”

“Don’t call me that.” He barks bitterly. Freddy flinches back, a hand outstretched. It makes Michael want to puke, “I’m changing shifts.” He leaves before a response.

“Wakey wakey,” Michael lightly kicks Ness, “It’s work time.”

Ness groans, “Five more minutes,” 

“Nope!” Michael rolls Vanessa off the bed, “My turn on the mattress.” He falls back where Ness was. Huge mistake, that hurt a lot.

Ness giggles, “Hard day?”

“Long day,” Michael corrects, “But I didn’t have a panic attack.”

“Good on ya,” Ness ruffles his hair, “You made it through the day with mild panic.”

“Yep,” Michael nods, grabbing the puppet plush and getting comfortable.

Ness puts on her shoes next to him, “Anything exciting happened?”

“I’m pretty sure Freddy hates me now.” He answers, exhaustion and dread filling him.

Ness blows a raspberry, “Pretty sure he doesn’t. Freddy doesn’t hate anything.”

“He hates me.” Michael restates.

“I’m pretty sure hate isn’t in his programming.” 

Michael shrugs, “I’m just that good.” The two laugh as Ness ties her shoes.

“Well,” Ness starts, pulling herself up, “I’ll talk to him tonight, try to butter him up, and you make it up to him tomorrow, got it?” She shoots finger guns his way.

Michael shoots back, “Got it.” He thinks, thinks of the story Freddy’s bound to tell her, “Hey,”

“Hmm?” She turns to face him.

Michael leans up to say something, “I… Nevermind.” She wouldn’t understand it anyway. He did exactly what he was supposed to; he got rid of the awful customers. 

“You sure?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

“...Yeah,” He turns away from her, “Good night, Nessy.”

She smiles at him, “Night, Mikey.” 

He waits until she closes the door to curl and cry at the nickname.

Chapter Text

Michael hugs the puppet plush to his chest as he paces the room, Ness’ shift ends in 1 hour and 34 minutes, he thinks, biting his lip. He’ll admit he fucked up yesterday but hey, it’s only uphill from now, right?

Who is he kidding, he’s going to fucking die out there. If not from Freddy, then from the sheer embarrassment of existing. 

God, what’s wrong with him? He’s acting like he’s 15 again! Get it together, Michael! He can do this, he can do this! Michael drops his doll and slaps his cheeks.

The fuck is he saying, he can’t do this! The very idea of doing this makes him want to scream. Why on earth did he take this job? 

Michael pulls out his lavender and dabs his sleeves and collar. He takes a deep breath, picks up the puppet, and begins pacing again. Everything is going to be fine. Worse comes to worst, Freddy hates him for all eternity, kicks him out of the Pizzaplex, and he’ll just die in an alley alone, hungry, and sad. Not a bad end, all things considered.

“You…” Gregory says hesitantly from the doorway, “You good?” Michael screams into the plush, falls on the floor, curls up into the corner, and makes no sign of life or haunting, “Yeah no,” Gregory says to himself in shock, “Stupid question.”

Michael takes one look at Evan’s face and goes on the defensive, “What the fuck are you doing?! Get out of my room!” Gregory looks at him, completely flabbergasted. Lavender fills Michael’s nose and snaps him back, “Ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rude. You can come in– Please come in. I’m– I’m just–” Michael laughs nervously, “Can you get Ness?”

“Um,” Gregory hovers awkwardly, “She still has an hour in her shift, right?”

“1 hour 31 minutes, and about 20 seconds left, yes.” Michael nods in agreement.

“Gees,” Gregory forces a laugh, “You’ve been counting, huh?”

Michael forces a tense smile, “Yep.”

“Wow,” Gregory responds with unease, “That’s… that’s not good, is it?”

“No, it’s not!” Michael cheers, “But I’m fine! I’ll be fine!” He forces himself up and picks up his plush, stands up, and starts pacing again, “It’s just Freddy, I’ll be fine.”

Gregory hops on the off-control panel and swings his legs, “You’re hanging with Freddy today? That’s awesome!”

“No it is not!” Michael says confidently with a smile.

Gregory tilts his head, “Why not?”

“Because Freddy doesn’t like me!” Michael says in faux happiness, just like Uncle Henry taught him!

Gregory waves him off, “Freddy likes everyone.”

“Yeah? Well, not me.” Michael sits down at the control’s rolley chair, “and good thing too. I don't do well with Freddies.”

Gregory frowns, “Well I like you, so Freddy should like you too. I don’t see why he wouldn’t.”

Michael laughs, “Maybe he can see what the rest of you can’t.” The kid just stares at him, “Whatever the reason, he doesn’t want me around.”

“Of course, he wants you around,” Gregory rebukes, “You’re cool!”

Michael lazily lets his head slack on the back of his chair, looking at Gregory, “Look me in the eye and tell me Freddy likes it when I’m around you.” 

Gregory furrows his brows and grasps for a response, “I like it when you’re around me.”

Michael gives him a sorrowful smile, “Well, that makes… two of us, one and a half, really.” Michael likes Gregory’s company, don’t get him wrong, but he doesn’t think he’s a good influence. Gregory probably shouldn’t be around him.

“Hey!” Gregory stands up in anger, “What do you mean ‘one and a half’?!” Michael laughs as Gregory runs over and baps him with his little fists. Michael decides to fight back by picking him up and shaking him. Gregory squeals in laughter, “Put me down, put me down!”

“Gregory!” The devil himself, A.K.A. Freddy Fazbear, walks into the room, “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Michael and Gregory both freeze. Freddy also freezes, completely surprised that Michael’s in his own room, “Micha– Mike. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, yeah,” Michael coughs, “It is my room.”

“It… it is.” Freddy affirms, “I should not be surprised.” Michael and Freddy nod awkwardly.

Gregory hops off the chair, “Well, you two have fun! I’m gonna go… do stuff,” Michael glares at Gregory, don’t you dare leave me here! Gregory just gives him a shit-eating grin, “BYYYYYEEE!!” He waves as he leaves.

Michael lays his face in his hands and suppresses a groan. Freddy awkwardly stands next to him, “So…” The animatronic starts, “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

Michael slept on and off for three hours and has been pacing for six, “Let’s just get this over with.” He stands up and starts his shift early.

Freddy frowns, sighs, and follows.

They’ve circled the entire Pizzaplax twice and still have not said a word to each other. Michael hasn’t been this quiet since 1993. He’s leaning against the wall, swiping through cameras. Freddy is just standing there, staring at him. It makes Michael nauseous. It’s so obvious he hates him. Honestly, Michael doesn’t even know why he’s still here, “Don’t you have a show to do?”

Freddy jolts, “Actually, I cleared my schedule for today. I… wanted to talk to you.” Oh god, why? What the fuck did Michael do? Shit, shit, shit!

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” Michael snarls, “Talk.”

Freddy takes a step back, “I…” He takes a deep robot-breath, “Look, I–” 

Someone cries in the background. Normally he wouldn’t notice or care for that but he does not want to talk to Freddy, “Sorry dude, duty calls!” He runs off into the crowd.

Michael pushes around the crowd until he finds the crying child. It’s a girl with amber eyes and brown hair tied into two neat buns. Michael crouches to her level, “Hey, is everything okay? Where are your parents?”

The girl looks up at him, but she doesn’t answer. She just cries harder. That tracks.

Why isn’t she in school? Isn't a weekday? “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m here to help,” He speaks slowly and calmly, just like Uncle Henry’s old videos taught him; just like when he ran Jr's, “What’s wrong?”

She sniffles, looks at him for a good long while, decides he's not a threat (thankfully) and points up, “My balloon.” She points up. Michael follows to see a big Roxy balloon on the roof. The roof of an open-concept four-story tall building. Oh, for fuck’s sake. 

Michael internally groans, “Okay, why don’t you hang out with my good friend Freddy, and I’ll go get your balloon, Okay?” The girl nods. Michael guides her over to Freddy.

“Hello Cassie," Freddy smiles at her, “What’s wrong?” The girl stays silent. Michael ignores both of them and heads towards the stairs. Freddy frowns at him, “Where are you going?”

“Balloon,” Is Michael’s only answer before he starts jumping and climbing up the Pizzaplex.

To his surprise, Freddy doesn’t immediately try to stop him. He just looks at him, open mouthed. It's like his processor can't even register what he's doing. That's not Michael's problem. Michael's problem is that he's climbing a 50 foot building to the roof.

Freddy says… something when Michael hits the second floor, but at that point he's too far to understand him. He looks down anyway, just to check.

Freddy's waving his arms frantically. Weird, must be entertaining children.

He makes it to the third floor railing and hangs there, double checking his options.

He can swing up to one of the lights. He should be light enough that it won't break, hopefully. He hasn't been fired yet, but dropping a fluorescent light onto customers might cross a line. Or he could just jump for it and hope for the best.

Either way he's halfway up and might as well finish it out. That balloon's still stuck on the roof and that kid's still crying, probably.

He jumps to the forth floor and looks back down. Freddy's on the second floor now. That's weird, shouldn't he be with the children? His eyes are staring into him, like he knows what he did.

He hooks onto the balcony and swings, gaining momentum. Freddy's still staring at him, judging his mistakes. Anxiety swells within. What if he just floats down like a piece of paper, or flops because he doesn't have enough momentum?

He shakes it off, these are thoughts he should have had about two floors ago. He lets go and swings towards the balloon.

To his delightful surprise, he has enough weight or strength or something to make it to the light, which he then monkey bars to the balloon. To his not-surprise, the balloon doesn't sink when he grabs it. Well, shit. Now what? He could let go, give up on the balloon entirely. It's not like the fall would hurt him.

He takes a glance down and freezes. It's not the height that scares him, the height is fine, Michael's hiked higher climbs in '91, but the crowd, that's different. That's people who will see him fall more than 100 feet and know something is wrong with him. You don't get up from that type of fall.

Not that hanging by a balloon is normal either, but people don't look at the ceiling that often.

Except now they're staring at him, and they already know—!

He makes the mistake of locking eyes with Freddy. He doesn't know what he was expecting, maybe the heartless stare of a classic Freddy, maybe the cold stare of a father. Certainly not concern, or care, or… or… whatever is on Freddy's face.

It's wrong bad a trick off. It's disconcerting, weird. Animatronic eyes shouldn't go that wide, their lips shouldn't shake. He's just… off. There's nothing else to think about.

It's still Freddy, still weird animatronic bear that wants him dead. He's not falling for whatever weird dad act he has going on.

Or maybe he is a well programmed, caring machine, and Michael's just being a little bitch. That is also a possibility. Not one he particularly likes, but that could be the truth. Maybe this bear is just a good dad who doesn't trust the strange purple—

Actually, fuck that. This is Freddy's. The one— The one!— constancy this horror of happiness is that fathers are terrible and children are better off without them. He refuses to believe the one good dad in all of Fazbear Entertainment is Glamrock Fucking Freddy!

He curls higher on the balloon, glaring at the animatronic. Let him worry, let him exhaust himself with his acting. Michael's not falling for it. He refuses to believe Freddy Fazbear is worried about him. That's hell in a bottle. Or a robot, in this case.

"My Balloon!" The kid cries. Right, there's a reason he's doing this. Hiding up here doesn't help the girl crying her eyes out. He needs to come down with the balloon. Maybe bringing it down will get the crowd off of him. Probably not, but you never know.

He shuts off his brain, hooks an arm on a light, purposely avoids Freddy, and climbs down the other way with the balloon. People constantly stare at him. Some hold out their hand, giving him grips to climb down. Some try to poke him. Either way it's far too much attention for him. When he makes it back down, a group of teenagers make the crowd part for him, like he's the messiah. And how long has the music been off?

He walks through the crowd as Freddy runs down the stairs, standing next to the girl again. She looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Or maybe she's just horrified. He can't tell, "Here… Um… Here's your balloon." He awkwardly holds it out.

Whatever her emotions are, they aren't more powerful that 'Love of Balloon', because she takes it. Michael, job now done well, imminently backs away from the girl, Freddy, and all his problems. Unfortunately, this backs him into the crowd.

He's not entirely sure what happens next. Someone grabbed him, or maybe he just brushed up against them. He hopes it's the former, because he elbows that guy in the stomach. Then he jumps off their shoulders, over the crowd, and bolts.

That was so fucking stupid why did he do that? Is his autopilot 'Punch things until your in an office'? That's so stupid! God, why is he such an idiot!

He pulls out his lavender oil and rubs it on his wrist, hoping the smell will rid him of the dark, claustrophobic space. It doesn't. He's still stuck in the same office, in the same habits, in the same fucking Freddy's!

This was supposed to work, this was supposed to make it stop! He… he's not supposed to… He's not allowed to panic like this anymore! He was better, this was meant to make him better!

Why is he still here? Why is he still in this dingy office, with this ratty fan, and that stupid Phone—!

Chica's at the door.

He closes it with a button, like he always had. She has no right to look so hurt.

"Mike? Are you okay? Freddy said you punched someone? And flew?" The yellow mass has the audacity to speak, "Are you in there? We're just worried." Liar. Liar liar liar liar. She just wants to distract—

Foxy's rushing the door.

He slams it close. Foxy runs into it, like he always does. "Ow! Fricken snackers Mike!" He feels powerful, like he has control. They can charge all they like, but Michael will be here, running them around for all they have, "Open the door!"

Why isn't Foxy leaving? He can't handle him banging for this long, it's gonna suck up his power! Why isn't he leaving?!

Freddy's on the cameras, but he's… moving. They don't normally do that. Why is he doing that. What does he want from him?

He's talking to the Gold thing, he realizes. They know.

Bits of messages, 'IT'S ME' 'I'm still here' 'isn't that why—'

The scooper only hurts for a second.

The character's tend to wander… servos locking…. mistake you… endoskeleton—

He slams his fist on the phone, getting it to shut up. It comes back bloody.

No it doesn't. Michael doesn't bleed anymore. What's—

Something's in the vents (Since when did this office have vents?). Something's under him.

He sees it, briefly, the golden mass that haunts him. Why, why, why?! Why can't it leave him alone, why does it follow him?

"It's me!" "I know what you did."

"Michael?" It moves the vent effortlessly, pushing it out of the way. His heart hammers, sweat dripping down his forehead. He lifts the screen, again and again. It's supposed to go away. Why isn't it going away? It's soulless dots (Maybe not soulless, they're the same dots he has) still stare into him, "Michael, breathe."

He stumbles back as it moves in, "Just, breathe, Michael. It's me, Vanes—"

He grabs it and turns them around, slamming it against the wall, "What does that mean?!" He's screaming. It's wasting his energy, his breath, but he can't care right now, "It's me, it's me, what does that mean?" It doesn't answer, "You've been chasing me for years. Who are you?"

Stupid, heckling sobs spill out and he just want's it gone. Leave him to rot like everyone else.

It raises a yellow, fake fuzz hand, "Michael—"

"Stop!" He slams it again, "Stop talking about me, stop mentioning me, stop staring at me, stop meeting me, just stop!" He slams it again.

"Michael, you're scaring—"

"I'm scaring you?! You fuckers won't leave me alone! What did I do to you? Why won't you answer me?" The hand reaches for something, "Do you think I'm him? Are we that similar?" His lungs are raw and imaginary; he can scream more, "I lost my skin, every vital organ I had!" He's heaving, bile sucking into him but he's not going to cower, not when it won't leave, "How is that not enough?!"

Electricity spikes through him. He's vaguely aware his belt's lighter. His taser's gone. Oh, how did an anima…

He blacks out before he can finish that thought.

He's back in the void, so this must be a dream. It's not the same dream; his feet are firmly planted on the floor. More accurately, his whole body's on the floor. At least he can see a floor now. A shiny, black, tile of some sort, but it's smooth, so who knows.

It's weird. He thinks he's in a Freddy's, maybe the Toy Location? That had pretty smooth floors. The carousel's here too, so it's probably Juniors. Great, he's back to managing. Perfect.

He pushes himself and… why is his face—? It's the Mask.

He digs his finger under and pulls, pulls with all his might and energy. He gets a foot up and pushes, but nothing. The mask won't budge.

It's fine, it's fine, it's just a dream. It'll be gone when he wakes up.

He's half expecting to be covered in blood when he stands up, but he's not. He's in his normal gray tank top, the one he over wore as a kid. No blood, not even tears. He's 13 again.

He looks around at the endless expanse, nervous, in way he hasn't felt in ages. Nervous as a small child. He takes a deep, shuttery breath and starts walking.

"Guys?" He calls. His friends were here last time. He… he really doesn't want to be alone, "Hello?"

He walks aimlessly, walking past prize counters, tables, chairs, just a mismatch of set pieces trying to convince him it's a Freddy's. The worst part is that he thinks it working.

There are whispers, child like and giggly. "Where are you?"s and "Games over. No more hide and seek."s. It's weird.

"It's me!" The little girl, the same from the last dream, taunts him from behind.

Still, that gives him an answer. He turns around, pulling up false bravado, "So, you're the one who's been haunting me." There's no one there, but he knows there's probably something listening, "Good," He thought… He was worried it might have been—

"Him?" The voice ask. He whips around, seeing something for the first time.

It's the doll. It's Evan's Fucking doll. He stares into that damned things beady little eyes, as if it will just disintegrate if he wills it.

A giggle snaps him out of it. There's a little girl holding it up. Her yellow overall dress is marred with holes and blood. Not a part of her is untouched. The wounds are rhythmic, mechanical. Springlocks. It almost distracts from the pitch black eyes, the dark tear tracks, or the floating pigtails. He swallows a lump in his throat, "What—"

"Who's to say it wasn't?" The girl laughs, peaking out from behind her bear, "We don't have to be alone in there." The room laughs in her voice.

He steps back, "I—"

"He sent me here, you know." She leans forward, letting the doll hang between her two limp arms, "Said he was worried about you."

He chuckles awkwardly, "You're lying. He… he hates me."

"I wish," the room whispers in the girl's voice. She's floating, not just leaned over. The bear's now tucked next to her chest, and she holds out one hand, "I can take you to him. He misses you."

This… This can't be right. But if it is, if he can see him again… isn't it worth it? He hesitantly hovers over her hand.

Then stuffs both his hands in his armpits. The girl blinks at him, "Do you not—"

"You tried to trick me." She tilts her head, "You… you puppeted my friends. Why… you wouldn't do that if you didn't want something."

Her head creeks and cracks unnaturally, like her necks snapping, "We just want to know where you are."

He laughs, keeping his hands firmly in his armpits, "Are you trying to be scary? My sister can do better." She didn't need to know his sister's the scariest thing to exist.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because the endless darkness breaks. Giant, purple cracks spiral from the girl, leaving gaps in the facade. Purple smoke bellows out, forming into bunny heads.

"I don't think you understand, Michael." The girl hisses, glitching. Her pigtails turn into tight buns. Golden clips keep them in place. Her entire outfit changes, her overall dress glitches to gold dress suit with a purple suit vest. The weird rabbit smoke circles around her as everything changes, "You're not in control here."

The floor shatters. He free falls with everything, heading towards the abyss. He looks under him, finds a piece of floor that's roughly his size, and pulls himself on it. It cuts his hands, but he never minded bleeding. Michael laughs, "When have I ever been in control?"

His piece of floor stops, and he slams into the ground. Ow. He pushes himself up, moving his hands back to his armpits, "Wow, for someone who been following me," He stumbles, his legs unsteady. Keep it together, Michael, "You don't anything about me."

The little girl look is gone. It's just the weird Fredbear suit, complete with purple hat and tie. Her black eyes still look down at him, tear tracks gone. She looks angry, "I know enough," She answers, the words echo across the dream, "Where. Are. You." She reaches again.

Before Michael could even flinch, a line of glowing, dusty black whizzes past his ear and lands directly in the girls chest. She screams as the pitch black arrow disintegrates her.

The purple and gold dust that was once a child flows into the purple cracks. The floor reconstitutes itself while the gaping fracture snaps close, janky and forced. Michael turns around to see red eyes staring into him.

"Hi, weird… rabbit lady." Rabbit's aren't normally good, in his experience. Though, this one looks more like a handmade plush than a bot, "Uh… why did you…" He points to where the girl was.

The outfit glitches, and he see rolling green eyes, "Rabbit? I'm done with that shit. I'm a princess now, can't you tell?"

He tries to focus his eyes, to see the black half gown and sparkling crown over the rabbit ears and fur, to see green eyes over the red mask. It just gives him a headache.

The rabbit, princess, thing, scoffs, "Tell Ness to die already." She says, drawing back nothing (Or is it a bow? He can almost see the outline), "I'm tired of waiting."

An arrow spikes through him, and he wakes up.

The world's fuzzy, blurry, and he can vaguely hear someone calling his name. His heart's still pounding from whatever dream he had. This place is sterile, out of the way.

"Mike, are you alright?" A warm, fatherly voice calls while something heavy rubs his shoulder.

But Michael doesn't have a warm father so that had to be—

Freddy. Freddy's looking looking down at him like, like he cares, which doesn't make since, because Freddy hates hates him, and even if these bots are nicer, that doesn't mean they're harmless. Michael hurt one of them, it just—

"Why am I alive?" He asks in a daze, his mind still spinning from the fading nightmare. Freddy, for a brief moment, looks applaud, "You hate me, and I hurt your friends." He locked them out, he slammed the… the golden thing (Golden hair. That was probably Vanessa) into the wall. He shouldn't—

"Hate you?" Freddy's voice is confused, concerned, a tone nothing at Freddy's should even know about, much able replicate, "Mike, I never hated you, and even if I did—"

"Bullshit." He interrupts, "I messed everything up. I hurt your friends."

Freddy has the gall to look sympathetic, like the bear understands what that means, "You—"

He sits up, because clearly he's not getting the message, "I dragged Gregory into that prank, I had him terrorize adults." Freddy reaches out to him. He gets louder, "I broke Monty golf! I ruined Roxy in front of her salon!" He should care. If he has the capacity to care, he should care about his friends, not Michael.

"I tried to tase Chica," He laughs, his blood running hot, "I almost killed Ness when we first met, did you know that?" His voice feels unsteady, and the back of his mind is screaming at him to stop, to throw away the only good thing this franchise has given him. He doesn't care. It's all over anyway.

"I tased my sister!" He continues, standing, "Her friends too! I broke and messed with animatronics, creatures like you, just because I didn't like how they acted! I had someone and left him to die just because I didn't like hospitals! I threw away everything we built together on a whim, a hunch!"

"Mike,"

"I knew! I knew the Mangle's eyes were malfunctioning and I didn't tell anyone! I just let it happen!" He laughs harder, pinprick tears jabbing into him, "I let her out! I knew her, I knew how she acted and I still fell for it, I still let her out! I knew she was there and I didn't even try to help! Like that wasn't the only reason I went down at all!"

"Michael,"

"I killed my brother! I made my friends help me! Don't you get it?! With every life I touch, every job I take, I ruin everything! And I enjoy it! Nothing's better than getting that pink slip at the end of the week and knowing that everything was for nothing! That all I did was bring more pain! I didn't leave a message for the new guy, didn't warn Jeremy about the breaking jaw, I didn't even help! I burned down their entire business and left! Not that that changed anything! He was still there, always, always there."

"Michael."

"Don't you get it?! I'm a monster, a screw-up to the highest degree. I've already ruined an entire area of the mall. What do you thinks going to happen if you keep me around? Do you think this is the worst of it? Do you think I'll stop?! Ness had to tase me today, what do you think would have happened if she didn't? What do you think will happen next time? Who knows! Maybe I'll leave my taser at home, and this time, I'll actually kill her—"

"Michael!"

He slides back. There it is. There's the fatherly voice he remembers. He pushed just enough, finally laid it all out for him, and now comes the punishment. Now comes the wonderful, horrific part where he doesn't know what comes next, but it'll be something. Something horrific, or terrifying, or something he's supposed to piece together. Maybe it'll be helping him work on something, or maybe it'll be running maintenance on his own. Maybe he's finally heard enough, and he'll just kick him out on the street. Maybe he knows too much, and he'll just shove him down the cave he came from.

Freddy places a steady hand on his shoulder, "Michael, it's okay," What? "Whatever happened, it's okay," No, no no, "I forgive you."

Iron clad rage explodes. He shoves the bear back, "How dare you! How dare you, Freddy 'Killer animatronic' Fazbear, forgive me?! How dare you act like you care, like I'm worth something! You put me above your friends, you family, and for what? For this? That… That's not fair! That's not fair to anyone!"

Freddy reaches out, but Michael slaps it away again, "How dare you say that you forgive me, when you don't know half of what I've done, when you don't even understand!" His hands are gripped and his chest is tight and he doesn't even know what he's doing anymore, "How dare you be the first…" He sniffles, like a crybaby, "The only person to forgive me, when" Another pathetic sob, "When you don't even know…."

Freddy reaches out again, and he lets him this time. He doesn't fight when the bear pulls him in or wraps his arms around him. He doesn't fight when Freddy slowly lowers them to the ground, "It's not fair…" He sobs out. Not even Uncle Henry forgave him.

"I know. It will be okay."

He sniffles again, like he's a stupid teenager again, "I don't deserve to be okay."

He can feel Freddy softly rubbing his back, "Michael, you deserve—"

"I don't want it to be okay!" He admits, "If it just… becomes okay, then everything… everything…" He hiccups, curling into Freddy like a lifeline, "Everything was for nothing."

"It's not fair," He sobs, letting his thoughts trail into exhaustion, "It's not…"

Freddy doesn't respond to that. Michael's not sure the bot knows how to. He just hums a soft melody. It's soothing, quiet, like Charlie's old music box.

Michael's not sure how long he stays there. He just knows Freddy stayed with him.

"Whoa, when did you two start getting along?" Gregory runs up to Michael and Freddy.

He sighs and walks along, a message to Vanessa stuck in the text box. Freddy doesn't seem to know how to answer that, "Um…"

"It's a secret." Michael says, because no one will ever know what happened.

Gregory pouts, then his eyes widen, "Did you kill someone?"

Freddy gasps, "No, what—"

"I wish," Michael comments. That would have been way less embarrassing.

Freddy gives him a look, and that makes him laugh, so he completely misses Gregory running off, "Okay, Vanessa wanted me to check on you so… bye!"

Shit, "Wait, no. Brat, don't say shit!" Gregory's already gone, "Fuck," He doesn't want to talk to Vanessa right now.

"Language," The most confusing, antithetical, opposite of what he's supposed to be creature says. Michael honestly doesn't mind anymore. He's too busy contemplating his unemployment. Freddy seems to notice this, because he walks slower and is giving Michael a look. Michael purposely look away, "Perhaps you should—"

"I know, I know…" He takes a deep breath and hovers back over the text box, "Just takes what comes." It'll be better if he contacts her first. Especially now that Gregory's given him a deadline. He hovers over the text box and carefully presses send.

Are you okay?

…

Three little dots dance on screen, and Michael shoves his watch under his shirt, so he doesn't have to look at it anymore. Sure, it's still buzzing like madness, but he doesn't need to look at it. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

He walks along the halls looking around. Freddy is hovering over him, like a nervous bee. He can't seem to swat him away, but that's fine. He'll just… live like this. Forever. Not the worst conditions, all things considered.

He's doing his rounds when he notices her, the balloon girl. Her balloon is slightly deflated, floating limply by her side instead of the high up, tall strand it was earlier, which showed how much time Michael wasted crying, but he's not gonna think about that right now.

She's curled up against the wall, arms crossed around her. She's as sad as her balloon.

Michael walks up and sits next to her, "Hey…" He doesn't know her name, "Friend," That was so fucking weak, "What—What's up?" The kid just nudges away from him, and rightfully so. That was the worst attempt to talk he's ever heard.

He sighs and leans against the wall. Freddy's peaking out from behind a wall, which, why? Go, go somewhere. Call her parents or something. He doesn't need to be babysat like a toddler. Freddy shoes off, or hides behind the corner, Michael can't tell. Probably the latter; there's still a shadow there. Whatever, kid first.

He turns back to her and just stares, as if looking at her will give him answers. It doesn't, there was never a world where it would have, but maybe—

"Is that a Roxy Fazwatch?" He flips, entirely focused on her wrist, "They make those?"

The kid scoots away, just a bit, "Uh, yeah." She looks down at her wrist, "You like Roxy?"

"Dude," He smiles like it's the easiest thing in the world, "Roxy's the best!"

"I know, right!" The girl beams just as brightly, "I'm Cassie, by the way." She holds out her hand.

He takes it, "Michael." He stares at her Fazwatch, "That Fazwatch is so cool."

"Yeah," She holds it close, "It is." Michael relaxes, content with the silence, "Wait, why don't you have one?"

"Huh?"

"They're right there in gift shop, next to all the others."

"Oh, I haven't been to the gift shop, unless the prize counter is the gift shop. It basically is, but that's neither here nor there. I was hired here. They gave me this Freddy one on my first day." He mutes his watch and places it on the floor between them.

Cassie leans over to look, "Yeah, that's Freddy alright. Do you like it?"

Michael looks down at it, "Nah, in my opinion, Freddy's the worst Rockstar."

Freddy peaks around the corner with a hurt gasps. Michael stares daggers into him.

"Apologize!" Cassie demands, smacking him with her balloon. He was not expecting that. How could his fellow Roxy enjoyer betray him like this? Then again, Freddy's face is pretty sad.

Michael sighs and takes off his watch, "Fine, I'm sorry I said your the worst. You're just my least favorite." Freddy's still droopy as he drops the reconciliation watch between them. He wants a new one.

Cassie nods right beside him, "Mm Hmm. Monty's the worst."

"Hey," He turns back to her, "Monty's the one who taught me how to play mini golf."

"'Taught' is a strong word." Michael glares at Freddy while he coughs into his hand, looking away.

"Wait," Cassie gasps, "Are you why Monty Golf's out of order?"

He gives her a cheeky smile, "Maybe~" She laughs, "Alright, you learned a lot about me, now tell me something about you."

"What's there to know?" She asks with a tilt of her head.

"Well," Michael pretends he's thinking of a question, "Why'd you skip school today?"

Her entire demeanor changes. She turns away and curls back into herself, "I didn't skip… It's Saturday."

"Shit," He looks around for his watch, "Is it actually?"

"Language," Freddy comments, "and today is not Saturday."

"Oh good." He would have felt it if it was Saturday. It would have been in the air. He'd feel it in the force.

"It's Sunday." Cassie says.

Michael looks at Freddy. "It is not Sunday," The bear says.

"Uh… I don't go to school anymore!" She lies.

Michael laughs, "Considering you don't live here, I don't by it."

"Gregory lives here?"

"Hush, child," He holds out a finger so that she'll ignore his spilled secrets, "We're talking about you." She pouts and hides her face in her arms.

Michael worries his lip and waits. She still hasn't said anything. Michael internally sighs and bumps her, "I used to skip school a lot."

She looks up with a sniffle, "… You did?"

"Yeah, me and my buds, we'd fake being sick and get sent to the nurse, then jailbreak our lockers and make a run for it."

She chuckles, "Did you guys sneak into Freddy's?"

"Hell no." He snaps to himself, dreading the very idea. Cassie slumps a little. He rushes to explain, "My dad owned the— a place. We were stuck there all the time."

Cassie smiles, "Sounds nice to me."

"That's because this is your baseline. I can promise you, no other Freddy's is like the Pizzaplex. Plus, one of us was technically forbidden from going there."

Cassie gasps, "Why?"

"Not important." She didn't need to know about the missing kids, "What is is, well, I guess it's not important either, but we would go do… normal teenager stuff. Egg houses, graffiti, smoking."

Cassie gasps, "You were bad kids!"

"Yep, rotten to the core," He doesn't even need to look, he can just feel Freddy's disapproving frown. Is it for his character, or because Michael called himself rotten? "You gotta be careful, I'm a bad influence," He will never know.

Cassie laughs at his corniness before relaxing again, "I… I'm not a bad kid. It's just… nobody at school likes me anymore."

Freddy tilts his head and moves closer. Michael sighs, "Yeah, I get that."

"No you don't!" She snaps, causing him to stumble back, "I'm sorry, it's just… you don't get what it's like to be cursed."

"Cursed?" That gives Michael pause.

She whines and curls deeper into herself. For a second, Michael thinks she's not going to answer, "I…" She starts, "It was my birthday, and nobody showed up."

Michael frowns, reaching out a hand, "I'm sor—"

"They went missing." She says, her eyes burning into the floor, "Every last one, they disappeared, starting a month before my birthday." That's… wild. Michael doesn't know whether she's horribly unlucky or ungodly the opposite, "And… and I didn't even notice. I didn't…" She cuts out a sob in her sleeve and wipes away her tears, "Now everyone's saying I'm cursed, and Ellis is spreading rumors about Gregory and— and I don't know what to do!" She throws herself into her woes, sobbing into her sweater.

Michael sighs and gently rubs her back, "I'm sorry. It will be okay."

"How can you say that!" She yells, "You don't know—"

Michael snorts, "You think you're the only one who's cursed? I'm literally purple."

Cassie apparently doesn't have a good rebuttal, "It sucks. I couldn't hold down a job for more than a week." Still can't, but that's not here or there, "I thought, for the longest time, that the only reason I was ever even hired was…" Because everyone else died, "Because they were desperate. I didn't think anyone would care about me. But, at some point in your life, you're going to meet someone really, really stubborn."

Cassie blinks at him, "Huh?"

"Yep." He smirks, "Someone who's stupid stubborn. Who's either too done or too 'out there' to care about what the rules say. They'll look at your curse and say 'Too bad buddy, I'm sticking this out. I've made my bets and I'm not backing down!'"

"That… sounds really stupid."

"Oh it is," He snickers to himself, "But, at some point, you can't help but get new voice in your head, one that says you're more than your curse."

Cassie uncurls, holding on to her ankles, "Really?"

"Yeah, it's strange." He mirrors her pose, "I hope it doesn't go away."

"Well, that was a very nice eulogy. I'm sure whoever that was for would be happy to hear it." Shit.

Michael very slowly turns around, "Hi Ness." He squeaks like a mouse with a matching smile.

She give him a feline smile in return, "Hi Michael. You seem to have missed my messages."

His watch blinks on the floor, "Not on purpose?"

She just hums dangerously at him, "We need to talk. This way, please."

Oh, oh it's happening. This is it. He's fired. This happy, safe haven he's grown to rely on, it's all going to be taken away from him. He… he… why did he care so much, why did he let himself get so comfortable? He knew this was temporary.

He wordlessly gets up, because if he says anything he's going to cry, and he's not going to cry in front of his boss and the kids. That's pathetic. Vanessa doesn't seem to notice anything, she just grabs his arm and starts marching in a huff.

"Is Michael in trouble?" Cassie asks once they're out of eyesight.

"Uh, yeah!" Gregory says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "He…" They walk out of earshot.

She knows! She knows she knows she knows. He's gonna tell her and then she'll hate me, just like everyone else.

That's fine, it's fine. Everything is fine. He wasn't sticking around anyway, so why even worry about it. Even if everyone in this town knows, he'll just go to the new one. As long as he has that little voice in his head, he'll be fine.

Please, please don't take this away from him. It's all he has. Don't take this too, please.

Vanessa's staring straight ahead, a scowl on her face. He's never seen her so quite. She's fuming.

Please, he's sorry he's unstable. He's sorry it's not working, he's sorry he's broken please, please don't scrap him, please!

"Officer Vanessa, maybe you should take it easy on him." Freddy's voice echos in the hall, "It's been a rough day."

Michael turns to him because what the fuck Freddy? Let him get fired in peace. Why is he still here?

Vanessa turns around and looks Michael up and down with gritted teeth. Then she sighs and shakes her head, "Fine, we talk first thing in the morning." Oh great, he gets more time to contemplate how much he loves this job before it's ripped away from him, "But if you ghost me again I'm sticking you in Chica's kitchen forever!"

"Ghost you?"

Freddy helpfully supplies an answer, "It is slang meaning ignore or ditch. In this case, you ghosted her by not responding to her messages."

Wait, "I'm getting fired because I didn't answer your messages?"

"Who said you were getting fired?!" Vanessa grabs his biceps, worried.

Michael doesn't have an answer for that. He just… assumed he crossed the line, that she was done with him, "The…. Laws of Stable Business Practices?"

"That…" Vanessa sighs, easing her grip to a gentle hold, "Michael, you're my only employee. I couldn't fire you even if I wanted to."

"But… wasn't this all temporary?" He places his hands on her forearms, swaying back and forth, as if that would close them off to the rest of the world, "I mean, it was just for a week, right? Until you find someone else?" Someone normal, he doesn't say, Someone sane.

"I… I completely forgot about that. You hated the idea of working here so much, I just… said something to get you off my back." That makes sense. Michael didn't think of that at all. God, he's such an idiot. "Do you… are you quitting?"

"No! No, I—I don't want to leave!" He's desperate, it's seeping into his voice and grip. He snaps his hands back. Tone it down, Mike, "I mean, I hurt you, Ness."

She snorts a laugh, letting go, "Michael, when I first met you, I hit you with a crowbar—"

"You missed," He corrects.

"AND you tried to kill me not 10 minutes later."

Shit, he did do that. Fuck, he has to explain why this is different, "Yeah, but that—"

"Michael," She holds him, gently. Just a light grip on his arm, letting him know she's there, "I know you're going through a lot, and if you want to leave that's fine, but I mean what I said. Whatever you're fighting, I'm here to help in anyway you'll let me."

She… Dammit, he's not going to cry again, he's not. He's cried enough today. No more crying.

He sniffles and wipes his tears away, wetting his sleeve (That shouldn't be possible, right? He doesn't have any water in his system), "You know, s—sometimes," Keep yourself together, Michael! You can't keep cracking like this, "Sometimes I really hate how you make me feel human."

She hugs him, tight, "I hate being human too." She lets go quickly, patting his shoulder, "Well, as our new, permanent security guard," He can't help but beam at the title, "I order you to clean up the break room!" She points down the hall.

"The break room? What happened—?" Realization hits him. He runs his hands through his hair, "Noo! Did I freak out in the break room?"

"Yep," Michael groans into his hands, "And you're gonna fix it, because I said so."

He looks up from his hands, outwardly tired but inwardly grinning, "Anything else, Princess?"

Ness nods, "Yes," She says in a horrible British accent, "Once you're finished, clock out and go to bed." She goes back to her normal voice, "You look like a Zombie."

He turns on his heels, still facing Ness, "Hmm, why ever would you think that?" He starts walking off.

"Hey Michael!" Ness calls like they're in gym class. Michael turns around to get smacked in the forehead by a piece of plastic. He groans and picks it off the floor, finding a nice, clean name tag with 'Mike' written on it.

"Welcome to the team."

Chapter Text

Something wooden is poking his cheek. He turns and buries his head in his pillow, "Go away…" The poking moves to his back, "Mmm… 5 more minutes." A wet, classic mop smacks the back of his head.

He jolts awake, "Arg, who's—?!" He pushes himself up to see Gregory standing five feet away, a wet mop in his hands like a weapon. Michael looks at him, baffled on why he ruined his sleep, "What the fuck?" Gregory drops his hands, face pressed with confusion and guilt in a way only a child's could be.

He doesn't answer. He just stands there, quiet. "Why'd you wake me up at..." Michael looks over at his clock, "…12:06 am? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Well, yeah, but—!" There's that horrible smirk on his face.

He buries his head back in the pillow, "Go bother Ness. I'm sleeping."

"No, no no no," He starts shaking Michael up, "She's gonna rat me out to Freddy!"

"Not my problem," He mumbles into the pillow.

"But I need someone tall! And strong! And fast!" What is he even doing? Whatever, not Michael's problem. He grumbles into the pillow, "Please? Vanessa will just send me back to bed." Michael tries his best to go back to sleep, "Okay, I thought this might happen, so I have a proposition. If you come with me, I'll give you this cool vintage Foxy plush I found." He pulls up a picture on his phone —Michael's learned the weird screen boxes are called 'phones'— of a classic 1985 Foxy plush. First edition too; it has his brown pants.

"Damn, that is a cool plush," He pushes himself up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, "Alright, what do you need me for?"

Gregory beams at him.

"This is a bad idea," Michael decides, balancing a water bucket on top of a door.

"No it's not," Gregory defends, "The water will spill next to the broken wire, which will electrify the floor. Chica will see that as a safety hazard move to fix it. Because her programming is distracted, she won't noticed the raised floor tile. When she steps on it, it'll trigger a tripwire. That will release that barrel," He points to the metal tub tied to the ceiling with wire, carefully placed on a far off shelf, "and it'll swing right at her. At the last second it'll get caught by the ceiling magnet, and all the flour will be dumped on her."

If Michael knew his hight was going to be used for pranking animatronics, he would have locked the door, "Right, not that I don't love your Rube Goldberg animatronic death machine, but why?"

Gregory shrugs, "Why not? Pranks are fun." Ah yes, Michael remembers pranking as a child. Things normally didn't go well for him. He doubt it'll go well for Gregory.

Someone has teach him the basics of animatronic, and that someone is karma, "Cool, cool cool cool, so we're done here?"

"Nope, we got way more pranks to set!"

Michael manages to keep his scream internal.

Michael steps into the daycare, "So, we're doing the same prank for Sun and Moon?"

Gregory nods, "It'll bother both of them, and Moon's does security every hour, on the hour, so we got some time." He slowly shimmies down the slide. Michael follows suit, sure to stay quiet, "Okay, so we're going to move like, half of this stuff, a little to the left. Not enough to be imminently noticeable, but like, you notice it. You get it?"

Michael looks down at him, "You're evil." He decides. Gregory's grin just gets wider.

The two run around, shifting things just a little bit. Despite being waken up in the middle of the night, Michael's having fun. This little brat really knows how to bring him back to his roots.

Why couldn't Evan be like this?

Gregory stops his shifting, "Is something wrong?"

Michael swallows his guilt and memories, "You're doing it wrong," He says with an easy smirk, "Here, let me show you."

"You're absolutely sure this shit's temporary?" He whispers outside of Roxy's room.

Gregory rolls his eyes again, like they're not going to dye the vainest animatronic in the world's hair pure black. Michael has a feeling that this is his last night on earth. He had a good run, a nice week without his family hunting him down for sport. It's a shame what's left of it will be spent running from the nice animatronics.

"Yes, it's fine, now shush" He says, even though Michael's not making any noise, and opens the door.

Roxy lays in charging mode, giving them an hour, tops. Most likely five minutes, because there's no way Roxy's going to sleep while they mess with her hair.

Michael puts on his gloves, and glares at Gregory to quiet his smirk. The boy's grin can be hear a mile away.

Michael carefully massages the dye into the robots hair(?), glaring Gregory silent. That boy's smirk is booming when he's not controlling it. Miraculously, Roxy doesn't wake up and slam them into the wall. They manage to dye all of her hair, except the highlighted parts, without alerting anyone.

Michael internally cheers. He should have done this ages ago. Who would have a been a good victim?

Lizzy, definitely Lizzy. She would have screamed and thrown a huge fit about ruining her strawberry blonde hair and—

—and she would have told Father.

"Dude," Gregory whispers. Michael snaps out of his thoughts. The boy nods towards the vents.

Michael smiles and follows. He should be enjoying this, indulging this.

What's wrong with a little prank every now and then?

"What are you doing?" Gregory asks when Michael stops to mess with every single system's clock.

"Oh, just another prank." He says, setting the time a little off.

"You wanna mess with Music man?!" Michael like's music man!

"Not too bad!" Gregory insist, "It's not even something he can get mad about!" Michael glares at him, "I mean it! We're not hurting anyone!"

Michael grumbles as they walk past crowds of endoskeletons. He swears they're looking at him, "Why are we even here?"

Gregory tries and fails to climb up a pile of boxes, "We need to get the Blue Electric."

Michael climbs up the boxes, "Blue Electric?"

"It's like coffee for robots." Michael opens a box, finding a bunch of metal tanks with some strange logo on them, "Just drop the whole box down."

"You still haven't explained what we're doing." He drops down with the box, not dropping the box for the child.

Tambourines clash from the vents. Michael and Gregory turn to see the little music men climbing out.

Gregory takes one of the tanks out of the box, "Here boy," He says as a mini music man approaches.

Oh, they're giving children energy drinks. He remembers his friends doing that when he worked at Jr's. He's pretty sure they were trying to get something broken, but it was still a pain.

He remembers running around, trying to heard them so that they would just stop. He's having a bad enough day as is could they please just—

One of the Music Men nudges his leg. Michael smirks and dumps out the box.

"Shh shh! Hide!" Gregory drags Michael away from the approaching light. The two hide in some pirate themed play place, a insult to everything Foxy stood for. Gregory hides him inside the boat. It's quiet the spacious play place.

The two quiet down as Vanessa paces around the building. Gregory listens out for her footsteps, "Dammit, she doing her atrium case. We're stuck here for a while."

Michael relaxes himself and looks around, "Are those snacks?" He asks, pointing at the old wrappers crumbled in the corner, "and… clothes?"

"Um, I kinda… used to live here?" Gregory squeaks awkwardly.

Michael looks around the play space, "You lived… here? In the Pizzaplex?"

Gregory looks down at the floor, "Before I met Freddy."

That's… huh. He doesn't know what he expected from a boy being raised by an animatronic, but having lived here before that…

Michael awkwardly scoots towards him, "It's a nice place."

Gregory gives a half-hearted chuckle, "Eh, I like Freddy's room more."

"Chica has a cupcake factory?" Michael asks, in said cupcake factory.

"Yeah, pretty tucked away, right?" He starts the conveyor with manic giggling.

Michael looks around the frankly saggy cupcake place, "Do you need me for anything?"

"Nah, we're just here for the sprinkles." Gregory starts looking around, "I'd do worse to Monty, but I don't have many ideas. If we lure him here…"

Michael looks up at the cat walk above, then at the big batter mixing vat that deposits into cupcake tins. There's a giant tin the corner, like his hight giant. He looks at that, at the cat walks, and at the little point on the vat, as if it's pourable.

"Can you get Monty up there?" He asks, pointing at the cat walk.

Gregory follows, "Yeah, why? You got a plan?"

Michael smirks, "Just a little one."

Moon screams in frustration, running around as each clock goes off one by one, de-synced from each other.

Gregory looks out in worry. Michael can't keep the grin off his face.

Monty yells as Michael pushes him into the giant cupcake tin. He laughs as the croc tries to fight the thick batter, "Gregory! Pull it!"

Gregory pulls the lever, sputtering the conveyor and oven awake. Michael jumps off in a fit of giggles that rivals Elizabeth's at Circus Baby's Pizza's World. Gregory looks at Monty, then at the rapidly heating oven, "Wait, we're not actually baking him, right?"

"Of course we're baking him."

"Yeah—wait what?!"

Michael is confused on why he's confused, "Come on, kid. Monty's an asshole. Besides it's not like it'll hurt him… much." Gregory doesn't look convinced, "These things are built like tanks."

"You little shit!" Monty yells, "When Freddy hears about this—!"

"What? Can't fight your own battles?" Michael taunts, because he needs a taste of his own medicine, "You need the big man leader to deal with a child? Wooow."

Monty growls at him, "What's your deal?! You were playing mini-golf just a few days ago, why—?"

"Geez, why wouldn't I enjoy a dick measuring contest between a 10-year-old and the worst personality ever programed? Can't think of one?" Monty stays silent, struggling against the tin, "Oh, quit being a baby. I'm sure Chica will eat you free by morning."

The tin approaches the heated oven, "Wait. Wait, Gregory, wait! Don't leave me here!"

Michael places a hand on Gregory's back, turns him around, and walks off, "Is he going to be okay?" The child asks.

"He's just being—" Do not say crybaby, do not. "—Whiny," Michael rolls his eyes, "Trust me, it could be way worse. He could be getting scooped."

Gregory falters behind, "What does getting scooped mean?"

Micheal doesn't answer him.

"If we got to prank everyone else, we get to do one on Freddy." Michael insists, despite Gregory's hesitancy, "And trust me, for a guy like Freddy, this is the best prank possible."

Gregory's having a hard time balancing on the ceiling supports, so that's probably why his voice is wavering, "I—I'm not sure—" Michael suppresses the urge to roll his eyes; kid probably looked down or something.

"Look," Michael turns on his heels, "I've got you." He hovers his hands besides Gregory's sides, "You aren't going to fall while I'm here."

The kids face softens, and he chuckles in relief. He looks up at Michael with such a big smile, and a openness that only comes from trust.

Evan used to look at him like that. Then Lizzy disappeared. Then—

Gregory's blood is on the floor, because he did fall. And his eyes are dull with death instead of that crushed, half glimmering with those stupid tears still spilling out.

"We should get down." Michael says, nausea overtaking him, "This whole thing was stupid."

Gregory looks confused as Michael picks him up, but he doesn't say a word until they both reach the ground, "Are you okay?" He asks. Michael laughs, because he can't find the answer. Gregory frowns at him, "We can do a different prank on Freddy."

Michael stares at the floor. Why is he doing this? Indulging that septic urge to ruin things like a child? He's better than that, he's past that, he's not stuck in Hurricane, Utah anymore. He's… he's here. In Freddy Fazbears, living with the same monsters, dealing with the same…

"Just show me the plush." He demands.

"Gregory!" Vanessa's voice echos from the distance, her rage apparent. Michael checks his watch; 6am, everyone's waking up.

"We might wanna—"

"I know!" Gregory grumbles as they walk down the dingy stairs, "But don't worry too much. No one's going to find us down here."

Maybe because this place is built like a maze. He has no idea where they are.

"Alright, we're here." Gregory comes up to a wall.

Michael looks at the plan wall, "Right, well this seems like a great place, but—"

"Would you wait a second? Geez." He pulls out a camera and flashes the wall with no warning. Michael hisses as the bright light, "There we go." Gregory smiles.

Michael blinks away the blind spots, "That's the tiniest door I've ever seen. Was it always there?"

Gregory opens it with a laugh, "Nope. Hidden unless you have a camera." He crawls through, "Come on!"

Michael gets to a crawls, then plops on his stomach, "I don't think I can fit in that."

Gregory snorts, "You can fit anywhere." He grabs Michael's hand and pulls him in. Michael yelps as dust and cobwebs attack him.

"Careful, brat!" He says, wiping the grime off his shirt. Gregory laughs as he closes the door, "That's really fucking—" Is that his lamp?

Whatever Michael was going to say dies in the back of his throat, along with any sanity he had stored from this lovely week. He forces himself to stand and step into the room.

That's his chair, and his TV. It's playing some stupid fucking children's show, the type Evan would have eaten right up but he and Lizzy would find detestable, because they're both smarter than fucking Ev—

Stop stop stop stop.

There's even butters on top of it. Fucking exotic butters.

Something's ringing, like an explosion just went off. Something taps his leg. He rubs his feet on the shaggy carpet. It bends, folds, like someone's ripped it up a little. He drops and tears off the carpet, showing a small break in the concrete. He lifts off the stone and finds stuff. Trinkets. A journal, some watches, a key chain, glasses.

"Whoa! Cool find!" Something so muffled he can't understand what it is it says. Michael picks up a watch. There's some blood on it. He puts it down. The glasses have a broken lens. He moves some stuff out of the hole, only to find more. "Mike? Michael?" The muffled asks.

Something soft is bumped against him. Something something "Foxy, Plush, Okay?", useless words like that. Everything blurs out except the objects. A bloodied name tag, Dr. somethings. It's too dirty to read. Psychologist. Licensed therapist. The rest are identical. The picture's are different, so are the names. They don't matter; the important information is the same.

He left his taser behind. The kids already run off. The kid who is the only one who can fit here and knows how to get inside. Blood doesn't come from nowhere.

Missing Children around the pizzaplex. Watches and games.

He's working with Father. That's the only explanation. That's the only possibility. This is a hell made for him, disguised as heaven.

It was fake. He knew it, he knew it from the start. This was all a set up.

Father probably built this. He—He knew that Michael would live, and—and made sure that he never got outside, that he'd never want to! He created these animatronics— these life ruining monsters!— to mess with him, to break him.

It was all a lie. One big lie that he fell for again and again and again and again! He's so, so stupid! How could he let this happen? How did he believe any Freddy's could be good?!

No wonder they treated him so nicely, no wonder Freddy didn't hurt him. No wonder they got him to play mini-golf, and watch soap opera's, or buy him gifts and share rooms with him. No wonder someone comforted him, helped him, talked to him, listened to him, understood him, loved him, it was all fake! Just one giant conspiracy.

Ness was never his friend. 

That little, stubborn voice says something in his head. He strangles it until it stops.

Michael plunges his hand into the stuff cubby, scrounging around until he feels the familiar coolness of a knife.

He has to kill the messenger. Father doesn't trust the bots to stay quiet, and he wouldn't have the adult deliver reports; it'd be too obvious. Gregory— the boy has to be his ear on the inside. Michael can't let Fath— William— find out he knows the truth.

He takes out the bloody knife, and expects to feel more. Fear, or overwhelming sickness, or even joy. It's just numbness, not even a feeling of wrongness. He can't tell if there's satisfaction there; if the knife has found it's home again.

He army crawls and looks around for the little monster. Year and years of dealing with these things made him swift, calm. Michael can turn his heart off, when necessary. As easy as his breath.

He stumbles down the halls and passages, up the stairs and corridors, his legs hitting every obstacle. It's like his body's running on nothing, like it's not getting fuel. He hits his leg, trying to get into submission.

There he is, boy murderer. All alone on the edge of the main area. He's calling Freddy, explaining everything with tears running down his face.

It looks familiar. It should feel familiar. It doesn't.

His body stumbles, barely making it to the blind spots. Father wouldn't have this issue. Father would walk up to the issue and deal with it.

Father had practice. Father's the whole reason he's doing this in the first place. He sucks it up and moves.

This isn't the solution, right? The kid didn't really do it—No one else could have— It's not like Father could have gotten to him—"I always come back"— It's just a normal kid—Do you really believe that?

No, no he doesn't.

He's not looking at him. Michael moves, knife gripped tightly. His steps finally have some confidence in them. He approaches the child with a smile he's sure he saw on his father once.

"Michael!" The boy turns to him, holding a foxy plush to his chest. He doesn't notice the knife, "Michael, are you—?" Whatever he was going to say next is cut off by a sob. Michael takes a step closer.

The boy runs into Michael full speed, hugging his legs like there no tomorrow, "Michael, I don't know what's happening. My head hurts, and—and I don't—" He breaks down into another sob, "I'm scared."

Michael freezes. Those soulful, brown eyes look up at him through their tear cover, begging him to fix the problem.

He kneels down and hugs him, "Hey, it's okay. Quit being such a cry baby."

Evan pushes back, "I'm… I'm not a cry baby."

Michael chuckles, "Sure you're not." He holds him tightly, so tightly it hurts.

You have to kill him, his brain reminds him, he's working with Father.

He can't stop the chopped up tears from escaping as he hold his brother's head to his shoulder, "Shh, shh, it's okay. You're okay."

"Michael?" Evan asks with his wobbly voice (not as wobbly as normal), "What's happening?"

"Shh, Shh," He holds the knife out, the tip aimed at his brother's back, "It's okay."

To S A V E T H E M.

His knife shakes in his hand. He can vaguely feel his teeth clattering, "Mike?" Evan tries to push free. Michael won't let him.

You've killed him before, do it again.

He… he can't.

He turns the knife flat and slams his arm into Evan's back, fully falling to his knees. He holds his brother and is so, so—

Something. Something's supposed to be here. He'll wait until it comes.

Evan tries to wiggle in his arms, "Mike? What—"

"Quiet, Evan. It's all okay now." His heart finally slows, "You're with me. It's okay. Nothing is ever going to happen." They'll be in this blissful white nothing forever.

His brother gulps, "Who's Evan?"

What a stupid fucking question, "You're Evan, idiot."

Evan tries to squirm again, "Can you let me go?"

Never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever again.

He holds him tighter, because he's finally happy(?), because Father finally found a line he couldn't cross, because he finally gave up and stop. He's so so so so so—

Volts drive through him in a painful burn. Michael screams and falls back, the electricity still stuck in his skin.

"Gregory, get behind me!" He reals as eVAn hides behind Elizabeth— no, no that's Ness, where—?

A knife clatters between them. Liz— Father's— no, his knife—

"It's—It's a misunderstanding!" Liz—no, someone older—not Liz says, "Just— Let me—"

Blue threatens him from the edge of his vision. Liz—Ness— SOmEOne tries to stop—stop—stop it—

He's on his hands and knees. He's on his hands and knees and catches his refection in his vomit. He looks like Father. That's when it hits him.

Father didn't make anything here. He didn't do anything here. These bots, these people, they were just living their lives in blissful ignorance. They were just running a pizza joint that he just happened to be buried under. No one set him up to be here. He was supposed to die.

There is no killer.

There are no lies.

There is no big conspiracy.

The only thing in this entire building his father ever got his hands on is him.

The only life ruining monster in this entire building is him.

Run. His mind says, because it's too afraid to die.

"Michael!" Vanessa calls out. Michael sprints. He runs, and runs, and runs, and—

Through fresh march air and hell on his toes, through traffic and lines, and things he can't even begin to explain.

He runs until his fake lungs stop begging, until his head stops spinning, until the painful protest his body gives stop because he never pushed himself this hard before.

He runs until nearly every sense stops, until his eyes keep everything blurry colors and his ears stop entirely. He runs until the cars stop, until he can be sure that no one will ever, ever, dig him up this time.

He runs as rain soaks through his shirt and ruins his only pair of shoes and—

It's raining. It doesn't rain inside. Michael finally slows down, willing to take in the darkness of the sun just getting out of bed and the old street lamps.

He stares. He must still be seeing things, because that's Uncle Henry's favorite doughnut truck, and there the fire hydrant he tagged when he was 11. There's his friends' favorite climbing tree, and that mailbox they kept running into, even after it was reinforced with a steel bar. There's the house he had to shovel snow for, and there's the stray dog's house he and Charlie built with Father and Uncle Henry.

But there's weird things, like a rainbow flag outside a door, or vending machine where the phone booth was. The dog house's roof is caved in. The sidewalk has less cracks, and the lamps are flickering. There's a garden in that neighbor's lawn, when they couldn't keep grass alive. The plaque on the Clinton's door is gone. None of that makes sense, because he has to be seeing—

Oh.

He walks down the neighborhood, past Mom's favorite sunrise spot and the wild flower patch the town could never cut down. Past the trees and tree houses that weren't there before. Past the new and the old.

Oh, that's funny.

He walks down the neglected paved road that was dirt when he was a kid. He walks past the corpse of a diner his father closed, and the stumps of the old paper mill, and the lazertag place that's now a mattress store.

That's really fucking funny.

He walks down and down the road with an easy going smile on his face, because out here nothing is the same and nothing is different. It's just him, the road, and the old wooden sign in the distance.

The sun sets behind it as Michael circles around. He can't help but snort when he actually sees it. After all this time…

"Welcome to Hurricane!"

All that talk about being away from it all, all that hope. All that despair and hatred for not moving on, for clinging to a mission he was meant to die in. All that "New life" bullshit, and he never fucking left.

Chapter Text

"He—He kept calling me Evan?" Gregory says as she left the Pizzaplex, "I don't know! Why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you," She says curtly. She's mad at herself. Her best friend is having a mental break down and she can't keep her damn thumb off the taser for five seconds.

"But—"

"Freddy's in charge while I'm gone. Try to get Monty functional." She leaves and locks the doors before Gregory can get any ideas.

Now she's face to face with the public library with a bag of crumpled up notes on her side, because, to be honest, Michael is fast and she has no idea where he is. You'd think a walking corpse would be more alarming, but people in Utah don't seem to give a fuck.

She sighs and opens the door. A librarian waves at her. She's older than her, maybe in her early 40s? Vanessa approaches the counter and throws her notes on it, hoping that she looks less deranged than she is, "Hi," She greets, "I'm new in town and wanted to know more about the local lore. Got anything on…" What is Michael always freaking out about? Ghost? Animatronics, "Ghosts?" She decides, because she already knows about the animatronic.

The woman keeps smiling, but there's something uneasy about her expression, "Well, Hurricane certainly has a lot of ghost stories." She takes out an index, "Now, are you interested in ghost stories in general, or the 'Fazbear Frights' as we call them."

The options are 'Freddy's' and 'Everything else'? Maybe Michael was right, this place is cursed, "Um…" She doesn't know. Michael has never talked about this 'Evan' before. Probably Freddy's? Because he used to work there?

"Freddy's, I think? I'm looking into someone named Michael…" Afton or Emily? He told her Emily when they first met, but she's pretty sure that was a lie, so, "Afton?" She tries.

The woman barely hides her wince, like the name brings back painful memories, "I'm sorry, all articles pertaining to Michael Afton are in police custody."

"Police custody?!" Vanessa gawks, "Wait, like all of them?" Jesus, Mike, what did you do?

She nods, "All of them. I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience."

"Okay," Vanessa will have to readjust her strategy, "What about the Afton family? Or the Emily's?"

Her smile somehow gets more uneasy, "I'm sorry, all records of both the founders and their families are in the care of Fazbear Entertainment and not available to the public."

"Are you fucking serious?!" She yells. Another librarian gives her a look. The first looks near panicked. What is this, 1984? Why is the librarian acting like she'll be shot outback if she says the wrong thing? Vanessa takes a deep breath and grasp for a reason not to scream in frustration. She finds it, "Wait, did you say founders?"

The woman blinks at her, her expression breaking, "Oh, you don't know anything." Her face somewhat relaxes. Apparently that was not one of the forbidden words. Vanessa lets her face scutch at the insult. The woman looks at her sympathetically, then whispers low, "Can you keep your mouth shut?"

Oh fuck yes, break the code, lady! Vanessa will be the action hero that exposes the shadow government and frees you from your shackles. Vanessa nods. The librarian glances, then grabs Vanessa, leaning both of them over the counter, "Look, we can't talk here. My lunch break is in 10. I've never moved in my entire life, so if you're willing to pay for my sandwich, I'll tell you what I know. "

Yes! Yes, absolutely, "You got yourself a deal."

The woman devours her sandwich, and Vanessa briefly wonders if she got scammed, "Mmm, best deli in all of Utah."

Vanessa weakly nods, poking at the dough the cook put in the oven for five minutes then dared to call 'bread', "Right, well, if you have any information about—"

"Girl, I know him." She says, "I used to go to school with him." Vanessa's eyes light up, "Or, kinda. I went to school with his sister, but that's close enough."

Vanessa leans over the table, on the edge of her seat, "Do tell."

"Okay, so you want to know about Michael, right? Not the other two?" Vanessa nods, "Well, first thing you have to learn is that he's an asshole."

Vanessa reals back, "What?" She asks with a concerned chuckle.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, he was just a teenager. Hindsight 20/20 and all, it's clear that kid was hurting like no tomorrow, with finding his best friend's body and all," What, "But he was an asshole." No, wait, go back, "Tormented every kid on the block for a good three years."

"What happened to him?" She asks, because you can't just drop 'Found his bestie's body' and move on.

The librarian shrugs, "Just disappeared." That's not what she asked, "The official reports call it early '87, but everyone who doesn't have a mask knows it happened after the party."

Doesn't have a mask? What does that mean? Why is this giving her more questions than answers? More importantly, "What party?"

The woman clams up, looking anywhere put her, "What party?" Vanessa insist, leaning over the table.

She matches way too far and gets in Vanessa's face, "Look, you can't tell anyone I told you this, got it?" Her voice goes down low, "I'm serious. I made a pact that day, and if any of the others found out I broke it—"

"Fine, fine," She holds her hand up in scouts honor, "I promise."

The two settle back into their seats, "Right, the birthday… It's… Sorry, it's really hard to talk about." Vanessa settles more, giving her a sympathetic look. The woman looks at the sky and collects herself, "Right, it was Easter break. Evan, the youngest Afton's, birthday party. Everyone knew that kid, Evan, hated Freddy's, but his father own the place, so birthday there, every year. And I cannot emphasize that enough, he hated it there. Animatronics were the scariest thing in the whole world. He would hide under the tables all day or lock himself in the storage rooms just to avoid them. He'd run from the costumed staff and… I didn't get it at the time, but I think he knew something was wrong with that place. I think he saw something."

"That's awful," Vanessa says.

"It was… well, I guess the age doesn't really matter anymore. Evan… well, he wasn't social by any means, but he was the most sociable out of the three, you get me? Point is, we were all invited to his birthday, and trust me, we were all excited for it. Mr. Afton went all in on Evan's party's, probably to hide that the birthday boy would rather be anywhere else.

"That day… Michael, and his friends, they were part of this too —so many people let his friends off the hook just because they got to grow up— they all thought it would be really funny if they just… picked him up and took him to the animals on stage."

"Oh my god," No wonder he doesn't talk about him, and the one time he did…

"It gets worse." The librarian says, "The dumb-asses thought it would be a good idea to stick his head in the damn thing."

Michael hands crunched up against his temples. Vanessa waits patiently at her desk so that her new employee can charades his newest panic attack to her.

His hands suddenly snap to his head, and Vanessa's heart drops.

"It killed him, didn't it?"

The woman gives a sad chuckle, "Not immediately, kid was in a coma for a week before he died." Vanessa gasps, taking it all in. The woman waits for her, "The media got hold of the story, and they dragged Michael through the mud. Never saw him after that. His friends did, but no one wanted to associate with them until, well, until they filed the missing persons report. Mr. Afton said he was home schooled, or charter schooled or something, because he already lost two kids, he wasn't losing his last, but personally, I think—"

"Wait, two kids? What happened to the other one?" That's more important that whatever half known theory this woman had on Michael's dad. She knows enough about him already.

"His sister," The Librarian corrects, before looking down in pain, "She just disappeared. One day she was degrading kids in the grocery store, and the next she was gone."

Vanessa blinks, "Degrading?"

She chuckles, trying to force the mood to be lighter, "Listen, that whole family was antisocial, but Elizabeth was the worst. She seemed fine on the surface, she'd talk to people, hold normal conversations, was a total teachers pet, and even gave gifts, but after awhile every kinda caught that she would talk to you unless she needed something from you, and she wouldn't tell you what that was either. No, there was always some 15 step plan that ruined a kids grade, or social life just so she could get a cool pencil." The woman shivers, "Never forget the rollerskate wars."

Vanessa laughs, a little concerned, "What?"

"And she was wicked smart." The woman says, ignoring her, "She'd twist things, make the most loyal of parents turn on their kids, all while she's a perfect angel. I could barely stand it, and I shared one class with her. I can only imagine how bad it was to live with her.

"I think… I think she did want to be friends with some of the kids, but she didn't understand that you can't use your friends in your horrific revenge plots, so she just… stop trying. Convinced herself she was above us all. Then she was gone." The Librarian takes a deep breath, "Anything else?"

Vanessa taps the table, "Why doesn't the library have any records of this?"

"Oh, that." She rolls her eyes and answers, disgruntled, "Back in… '04, I think? Might have been '05, Fazbear Entertainment went on a big campaign to remove all mentions of the founders or their families. I think everywhere else got scrubbed, but, at the time, fresh detective Millard would not have it. There was a whole court case and everything. Fazbear lost, like, 15 million dollars in stock and legal fees. They came to a compromise where any documents even slightly pertaining to any cases in their station, cold or other wise, will be in police custody, while Fazbear can just burn the rest I guess."

"Damn, that's lucky." She goes back over her notes, thinking of her next question.

"Yeah," She sighs, checking here watch, "Well, this has been fun, but my lunch break is almost over and—"

"Wait!" Vanessa grabs her sleeve. A bit dramatic, but she still doesn't have a lead. Michael could be anywhere, and… "Do you know where…" Where, where could he be? What would he do? "Never mind," She lets go, resisting the urge to bite her fingernails. Michael will be okay, he's always…

No the fuck he's not. He's a mess held together with will and trauma. What if someone sees him? What if he gets lost, or run over? What if he goes to the hospital, they declare him dead, and put him in the morgue? What if—

"You haven't seen someone purple walking around, have you?" She asks suddenly. It's a shock to even her. The woman looks at her like she's insane, "Um… wearing black shoes… kinda has a shirt like mine?"

She burst out laughing, "Oh, you sound like Old Man Heckles. He was saying the same thing just last night."

Vanessa runs at her, vaulting over the table, and grabs the librarian, "Who is that? Where does he live?"

Just take a left at Blookers Lane and keep going until you see the dead neighborhood next to the graveyard. There should be a hill at the end of it. He's the only one who lives there, you can't miss him.

She wasn't kidding when she said dead neighborhood. The whole place feels like a horror movie. Half the houses have succumbed to the tumbleweeds, and she has a feeling the pile will grow until it's taken the entire cul-de-sac. Vanessa walks past all the empty house to the only one that has a speck of green grass, and by a speck she means a line right outside the window. The walking stones are bent and overgrown, like no one's used them in years. This is an ill omen.

Vanessa steps across the uneasy path and knocks on the door, "Hello? Mr. Heckles? I heard you… saw something?" The blinds open slightly, before closing immediately

Something crashes in the house and runs into the door. The sound of at least 15 locks clicking is her second omen, "I knew it!" A muffled voice says from the other side, "I knew he's send someone! You can always count on detective Millard!" An old man with the scruffiest hat Vanessa has ever seen slams the door open, "Officer! It came back!"

There is no world where Vanessa is a police officer. Yet somehow, this guy does not catch on. His expression never changes.

"Uh, yes!" She says awkwardly, "I am Officer Anderson, reporting for duty." She doesn't sound convincing at all. There's no way he'll believe her.

Mr. Heckles cries tears of joy, "Please, come in, come in!"

Vanessa reluctantly follows him into the fallout bunker that is his house, "I told them, I said 'It won't matter how far you run! It'll come back, and it won't stop until all of us are part of it's hivemind', but they didn't believe me. HA! Look how's laughing now Janis!"

He curses an old, scribbled over wedding photo. A third ill omen. Vanessa coughs into her hand, "So, can you tell me when you first saw this 'Purple Man'?"

"30 years ago," That is— huh? "He wasn't purple yet, but—but I knew there was something off about him. They all told me I was crazy, but then they saw it too! That, that thing! It couldn't pretend to be human for long. It wanted to spread, but it couldn't get to us! Once—Once it finished incubating, it birthed a parasite right out of it gullet! Then it just rose up and kept walking. Everyone else left, but I knew, I knew it would be back to infect us and use our bodies as—"

"Okay, but did you see him today!" Vanessa interrupts. She does want to hear about parasites or her friend apparently barfing life. The man stumbles back. She takes a deep breath, "Did you see it today."

The man grits his teeth, "Well I haven't seen it today, but I know it's looking for new host! It jumped the into the graveyard just last night—!"

"Thank you sir!" Vanessa slams the door close and marches away from the house.

He re-locks the locks behind her as she stomps back into the neighborhood. The empty neighborhood that looks like it's been abandoned for 30 years…Michael did say he lost his organs once.

Vanessa doesn't know how to feel about that. All that time speculating and she could have just walked outside. She's lived here for a year, she should know this.

She should have lived here for a year. The paper work says she did.

Vanessa shakes herself off. She needs to find Michael.

He stares at the empty grave for too long. Empty, because when he got here there was police tape, a 6 feet hole, and an empty coffin. He's not sure why he stayed. Maybe Evan's soul is lingering or something.

"Should have taken dream girl's offer." He says, setting the wildflowers he plucked next to the tombstone.

Evan Afton

1974-1983

Beloved Son and Brother

Right, no more stalling, "Hey," he starts, wincing at his voices crack, "It's… been awhile. I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner, I didn't want it to…" To show this me, he almost says, I wanted to fix it first. Be someone worth talking to, "That's a stupid excuse. I'm sorry." The grave doesn't respond, "I got you those wildflowers you like. I know you don't like people picking them, because of the bees or something, but I didn't know how else to show you." Nothing, not even a burst of wind.

He yawns, "Oh, I've started sleeping again. Though, I never told you I stopped sleeping in the first place, so…" The silence lingers. Michael yawns again. He so exhausted. It's been a long few days, "Mom never came back, if you were wondering." He wasn't; he didn't even remember Mom. Lizzy was the one always flipping her picture's around so no one would have to see her, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, when Lizzy disappear. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I did." Maybe Lizzy would have constantly been at his throat. Or maybe he would have ended up dead in a ditch.

"I miss you. I miss you a lot." He doesn't stop the tears from spilling this time, "I'm— I'm so sorry. I know I've said it before, but I'm so so sorry—" He hiccups, sobs spilling out like water out of a broken strainer, "I, I keep thinking, of what it'd be like if, if it was me instead of you, and—" Another sob breaks through, driving his already empty body to burn more, "And I like that world. I like it a lot."

He looks down into the empty grave, "I'm so tired." He admits, "Dad's still out there, probably, and I… I don't want to stop him this time. I don't care if they need me, or I'm the only way to stop him, I just… can't anymore. Let him win, I lost the endurance race." A wet chuckle escapes him, "You probably hate me for that. He killed all your friends, and I'm just… giving up." He stares down into the abyss, into the comfy coffin below him, "I'm the worst brother in the world. Sorry about that."

He can feel himself shaking. So, so tired. He never should have slept again. Who cares if it gave him more energy, or made him feel more stable, it ruined him. He can't keep going at the same pace anymore. He never should have tried it in the first place.

He looks down at the padded, probably soft coffin. It looks so nice, still clean on the inside, with the lid just slightly off-center. Is it nice in a coffin? To just curl up, or lay down, and let the cool dirt stack on top of you? Is the space become suffocating, or does having no other option finally allow you to rest?

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.

Michael throws himself into the grave, landing a little unsteady. The coffin's small, too small for him to fit properly. But Michael's a monster made of nothing but skin, to he can fit nearly anywhere.

He curls up in his brother's resting spot. It's… not as comfortable as it looks. Guess people don't care about the comfort of corpses. He kinda wishes that they did.

The moon shines down at him, judging him. He's too tired to care.

"Holy shit," Someone whispers, "Is that actually a…"

Michael grumbles against the sliver of morning light. Sleeeeeep.

"Of fucking course it is. Should have believed Old Man Heckles from the start."

Michael starts to drift off to foot steps.

"Hey, Hey!" Someone yells. Michael curls up tighter. A bright light stabs into his eye, and he's forced to look out of the grave.

He hisses as the light gets brighter. A figure above looks down at him, "Hello." The figure says, "You seem a little lost."

Michael stares up at them, "No, I'm right where I belong."

The figure is smiling at him, maybe even glaring at him, "You know, I disagree." Michael gives him a dead stare, "Why don't you come up here? I can throw down a ladder."

Michael pretends to think, "No, I'd rather not."

A slightly amused, mostly angry hum comes from above, "Would you rather I just bury you in then?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Michael closes his eyes and waits for the dirt to engulf him. When it doesn't, he peaks one eye open, "Dirt, please."

The figure runs a hand through their hair, taking a deep breath, "I think we got off on the wrong foot." They shine the light back down at him. Michael finally sits up, blocking the damn flashlight. Then they flick it off and throw it down to him.

Just when Michael thought the figure had freed him, it pulls out another flashlight and points it in his eyes. Michael points it in their eye as revenge. His flashlight is weaker, but that doesn't matter. It's about that the message.

It's a man, with messy, slicked back brown hair. Stray strains are stained with gray, and there's crow's feet under then man's eyes. He's wearing a tattered black coat over what looks like a police uniform. There's a tool belt, with the classic cop things, and…

"What's with the Bonnie Mask?" Are there wild animatronics? Does he have to worry about bots coming out of the woods?

He moves his coat around so Michael can't see the Mask, "I think we got off on the wrong foot." He says again, more sternly than last time. He holds his hand out, down the hole, "Detective James Millard."

Michael does not take the detective's hand because he likes this grave, thank you. He just looks up at Millard, shining the light on his face.

Detective Millard smile slowly become more and more annoyed, "Not gonna introduce yourself?"

No way. He made that mistake once and it cost him the most emotionally volatile week of his life. He looks up at the tombstone, "Evan Afton."

Evan won't mind him using his name, right? He already used his coffin, might finish out this burial ritual.

Detective Millard's smile somehow becomes tighter, "Try again," He says darkly.

"Foxy," Michael blurts. His face gets darker, "Fritz…" Fuck, what was Fritz's last name? He can't remember his alias.

"Alright," The detective decides something, something Michael's not privy to, "Well, Mr. Purple," That is none of the names he gave him, "Are you aware you are currently napping in a crime scene?"

"No, really?" Michael asks sarcastically.

"Yes, really." Millard answers in equal tone, "Which means I have to arrest you now."

Michael frowns, "You don't have to arrest me."

Detective Millard hums out a laugh, "But I do. Because you broke into this graveyard."

Michael snorts, "How do break into a graveyard?"

"You climbed the wall," He smiles, "The very 'Do Not Climb', 12 foot wall."

Fuck, he did do that, "Are you sure that was me?"

His face turns serious, "Nearly a month ago, this grave was found dug out and empty. We've had a stake out at the entrance ever since." Michael opens his mouth, "Last night," Millard continues, not allowing any interruption, "We got a call about a purple man scaling the cemetery wall."

Well shit, that's pretty damning evidence, "But are you sure it was me?"

"Do any other purple people exist?"

Shit, damning evidence yet again. This guy's good, "Maybe?" Michael answers honestly.

Millard's still smiling a smarmy smile, but Michael gets the sense that he's unamused, "You are, at the very least, a suspect of breaking and entering, which gives me grounds for arrest, and that's without you entering a crime scene and sleeping in the coffin. Congratulations, Mr. Purple, you're a suspect in grave robbing."

Michael purses his lips, "You still don't have to arrest me. You have free will outside of your job."

The man hums again, with his tight lipped, frustrated smile. His eye twitches a little bit. "Sure bud, I'll let you off the hook, throwing away my entire career and everything I've been working toward the past 30 years. I mean, we've known each other for 15 whole minutes, and those times have been nothing but FUN and FRIENDSHIP."

Michael gets the point now. It was a long shot anyway, "Can we go back to the 'You burying me' idea?" Honestly that's Michael's favorite. He'd love to be buried properly for once.

Detective Millard lets out a sigh, "How about this; either you can climb up, and I can arrest you, or I climb down, and have to arrest you."

Michael likes neither of those options. He'd rather not be dragged into a place full of people, where they already think he's wrong and awful, where they're paid to watch him like an experiment. He'd rather not be forced to go to a doctor, or have learn about what he is. Will they take him away? Force him to keep going endlessly? What happens if the FBI or someone higher up demands him? Millard is not attached; Michael could go anywhere.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" He snaps, the lax, teasing mood the two breaking for the first time, "It's just some grave."

Some grave that he failed to protect, again. Some grave that he couldn't stop visiting until he felt like he couldn't visit it at all. Some grave that had nothing in it, and someone still dug it up and took the boy inside. Just some grave that should have been his.

Millard flashes with anger, but then it's gone, just like that. His face turns tired, and a sadness slips out, "Believe it or not, I used to be quite close to this family, and… He's the only one who got a proper burial."

"Huh," Michael says, "You're right; I don't believe it." His family was close to no one.

The anger flares again. He looks down at him, "Seems like you made your choice." He slides closer, readying his fall.

"Don't worry, Detective Millard! I'll take it from here!" Michael stops. He has to take a second because… he's hearing things, right? Just another hallucination. Detective Millard will hop down, he'll be taken somewhere secure, and he should never hear that voice again because she had to tase him twice.

But she's made it clear; that is not a deterrent for friendship.

Millard turns around, which already spikes his anxiety. He gets up, peaks over the grave, and just stares in, he thinks it's shock, but he honestly doesn't know.

The most insane woman he's ever met stand at full attention, saluting, "Officer Vanessa Anderson, reporting for duty!"

Yeah, he's not buying it. Vanessa was hoping he was a stupid as the rest of the town—seriously, the grave-keeper just let her in because she name dropped the most popular guy in town—, but turns out town hero Detective Millard isn't that dim.

Said detective looks at her with the most confused expression she's ever seen, "That, that's a security guard outfit. Did you just… Did it work?" That seems to baffle him more than anything else. It really shouldn't; this town's fucked. Vanessa doesn't need to say anything to answer, so she doesn't. She holds the same pose and smile she started with.

She subtly presses the 'Send a car now we will get sued if you do not get a car her ASAP SEND THE CAR!' button on her watch. It says a lot about Fazbear Entertainment that that's a universal button, "The precinct sent me down. Apparently you're needed elsewhere, so…" Vanessa moves and tries to push the detective out of the way.

Detective Millard stands right in his spot and groans into his hands, "That's not even close to a police uniform. It's… wait a second." He look back into the grave he was arguing with, then back at her, "That's… You—! You're wearing the same outfit!" He steps back so he can point at both of them at the same time.

Vanessa looks down the grave, finding Michael standing starstruck. That's probably what he's feeling. She waves at him with a smile. He slowly waves back.

Detective Millard sighs, "You know what? That's fine." He unclips a pair of handcuffs, "Ms. Anderson, you are under arrest for impersonating an officer. You have the right to remain silent and the right an attorney—"

Vanessa tases him. It's a quick jab at a high voltage. He falls over like a rag doll.

She takes his handcuffs and cuffs him, "Sorry Mr. Millard, I just need to talk to my best friend real quick, kay? We'll be out of your hair in a bit."

The Detective doesn't respond beyond keeping his beady eyes trained on her. She rolls him off to the side for some privacy.

Running back to the grave, Vanessa crouches down, looking at the standing Michael. She's not sure what to say, now that she finally found him, "Hi," She starts, "Do you want to climb out of the grave?"

Michael looks up at her, "No," he says, still in disbelief.

Vanessa pouts for a bit, "Can I come into the grave?"

He pokes her, as if checking that's she's real, "Sure?"

Vanessa hops down into the smaller than normal grave. Michael leans against the wall, staring at the ground. Vanessa returns the poke, then leans up against the other dirt wall, "So. You're a full time employee, and I think it's time to tell you that I might… kinda… was a child murderer?" She winces through her speech.

Michael's eyes go wide, "Explain." He demands.

"Okay, so Fazbears. There was this game they were testing, and apparently they used, like, really old code from one of the bots, or something? I can't remember where they got it from. Point is I was a beta tester for this game, and this code… turns out it could… possess people?"

"Human's can't be possessed." He says factually, "Outside of sleep or some state of unconsciousness, the host soul is too powerful. Sure, if you can get in while their sleeping or bleeding out—"

"Bleeding out?"

"—You can keep them asleep, as long as you have enough power, but the moment they wake up, your fighting for control, and that's a fight your destined to lose." Vanessa stares at him. Michael awkwardly coughs into his hand, "Just something I picked up… Continue." He decides.

Vanessa's stuck on his words, "Is… Is VR a type of unconsciousness?"

"What's VR?" Michael asks.

"It's… never mind. I guess it wasn't quiet possession. It was… there was a new voice in my head, and it was so insistent; it would not shut up. A… a part of me believed it, and a part of me hated it. It… split me in half, I think? And the other half became a cultist? With the voice being a cult leader? And then they killed children, and I was kinda there, but no really? It was all really fuzzy. Then Gregory played Princess Quest and BAM! That's why I call that game a life saver. Anyway, Vanny, that's the other half, is dead and I am back! With a lot of blood on my hands." She laughs nervously at the end.

Michael just blinks at her, "I'm having trouble following." Vanessa groans into her hands, "So you played an arcade machine—"

"No, a VR game—"

"I still don't know what that means."

Vanessa groans again, "It's, like, a fake reality thing? You put on this headset—"

Michael is not following. Vanessa goes back to her hands, "Just, okay, was there any, like… yellow rabbits in this process?"

"Yeah!" She snaps her fingers, "That's the bitch! Wait, why'd you ask?"

Michael hisses in a breath, "You could say that… Do you, um… Do you remember when I talked about my dad?"

Vanessa gasps, "No way! Dude, our lives were ruined by the same guy!" She throws her arm out to dap him up. Michael flinches away. They both stand there awkwardly, Vanessa tries again. Michael does not move, "It's— it's like a high five, just mirror my movements." She slowly pulls her hand back and tries the dap again. Michael follows through. She grabs his hand pulls him close for a chest bump. They ends up bumping heads instead. It doesn't hurt her, because Michael has no skull, but Michael's sent reeling.

"Oww," Michael cries pathetically, cradling his head.

"Oh shit!" She hovers around him, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm didn't mean to—"She starts giggling, a smile on her face, "I'm so sorry."

Michael starts laughing too. The two burst out into a string of giggles. It dies out slowly, leaving a warm bubbly feeling in my chest, "You know, it's… funny that you told me this." Michael laughs, some tears bubbling where his eyes would be, "I kept thinking that I was the problem there, that I was the stain on a perfect white shirt, but hearing that… I don't know. It makes me feel like I belong."

Vanessa snickers, "The shirt practically tie-dye."

"Yeah," His brows furrow, "Is that what happened to Gregory? The same thing that happened to you?"

"I don't know," She admits, "I don't remember much from that time, much less… you know. I don't if I… worked with him or not."

Michael nods, sinking into a silence, "How long has been?" Vanessa blinks at him, "Since you… woke up."

"Oh," She laughs and rubs the back of her head, "Well, I think… I found you after a week, so—"

"A week?!" Michael half laughs, half gasps, "You've had your life back for two weeks tops, and you still threw yourself into fixing mine?"

Vanessa flushes, "Well, it's easier than dealing with my shit!"

Michael tries to hold it back, but he burst out laughing, "It is!" She insist, "Yours is in big, bad things happened, easy-to-identify strokes. Mine is all weird and hard to figure out."

He still laughing at her, "That doesn't mean it's easy! And your shit isn't easy either." His laughter finally dies down, "You deserve to freak out too."

She stares at him, "What?"

"Well— I meant—! I freak out all the time, and if you wanted— Never mind."

She snorts, "Well, thanks Mi—"

He hugs her. It's the first time he's initiated the hug. It's awkward, and in a very tight space, but despite that, it's still warm. It's still loving, and caring, and there.

Michael kinda squishes against her, "I— I don't know if I'm doing this right. This is what you do to make me feel better, so I thought—"

"It helps," She hugs him back in a vice grip, "It helps so much. You being there helps. It shows… I'm not alone." Tears start building in her eyes, "I don't have to do this alone. You're here, and it feels like I can do anything, because you're always there, so," She sobs, buried emotions revealing themselves. Her fault for going into their grave, "So please don't leave me." She buries her face into his shoulder, "You're my best friend."

He startles, then uneasily holds her tighter, "Your my best friend too. I… I won't leave again, and if I have to…" an uneasy silence settles between the two. Vanessa digs her fingers into his shirt, "I'll come back. I promise."

Her grip lightens, "Alright. I'll hold you to it." She breaks the hug and hold him by his shoulder, "And you bet your ass I'm haunting you if you break it."

He burst out laughing, "Oh sure, Princess, do your worst. I've faced ghost 10 times scarier than you ever could be."

She crosses her arms, "Oh, you don't think I can be the scariest ghost ever?"

"You've got some tough competition," He admits, "My sister's pretty scary."

"Well, she hasn't meet me yet." The two chuckle, Michael less confident than her. She gives him one last quick hug as they pull apart.

She looks down at the child size coffin, at the grave stone that gave a boy nine years, and a mound builds in her throat, "So, from now on, we'll tell each other if something bothering us, right?"

Michael nods, "If we're ready to talk about it."

"And we'll asks each other if we think something is bother them?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

"Okay, so…" She takes a deep breath, "Who's—"

Specks of dirt fall on her shoulders. She turns around and looks up, finding Detective Millard uncuffed, on his hands and knees, leaning into the grave. "Oh, don't mind me." He says, with a wave of his hand, "Please, continue."

"…No," Michael answers for her.

"Eavesdropping is very rude," She adds.

The man's smile turns slightly manic, "I agree. You know what I think might be a little ruder?" Vanessa looks in confusion. Michael grits his non-existent teeth, "Tasing someone and kicking them around in the dirt! That might be, just slightly, more rude!"

Vanessa's face scrunches in guilt, "I said I was sorry?"

"And I'm sorry I have to arrest you." He lets out a deep breath, one Vanessa recognizes as the I-need-to-be-professional breath, "Your employer will be contacted. The police will—"

"She is my employer,"Michael comments.

"Guh! Shush!" Vanessa insist, because she very much did not do that legally.

Detective Millard looks confused between them, then his face falls into overworked despair, an expression all parties are familiar with, "You're from Freddy's, aren't you?" He asks in the second most pained voice she's ever heard, another sentiment all parties are familiar with. He holds out his hand before either of them can say anything, "Just, give me a second."

They do, because its the respectable thing to do when talking about Freddy's. He walks off. Vanessa hears muffled scream. Then he comes back, "Sorry about that. So your employers won't be called. I'm not dealing with that fucking snake-tongued, cowardly, uncaring, victimizing bastard of a billionaire today. Instead, we're going to hold you— what's that sound?"

Vanessa hears a car revving in the distance, "It's here."

Michael becomes very uneasy, "What's here?"

Something crashes through the wall. Millard dives into the grave, narrowly avoiding the speeding van screeching through the cemetery.

"What the fuck is going on?" Michael asks, covering his ears.

"It's the Mini-Music-Men! Come on, we gotta hurry!" Vanessa jumps off Millard's and climbs out of the grave.

Michael, the insane man that he is, stands Millard up and makes sure he's okay before he runs to the car. The aging detective mercifully lets Michael leave. Whether out of good will or shock, Vanessa doesn't care. She has bigger problems.

The Mini-Music-Men are doing donuts in the graveyard. This is not part of the plan, "What's wrong with them? Why aren't they stopping?" One of them squeals from the top of the van, dancing, "Why are they hyperactive hell-beast?"

"Shit!" Michael says, "It's the consequences of my actions!"

The music men bang their tambourines together in hyperactive excitement, "We'll have to jump into the van before it does anymore damage. You ready?"

"No?" Michael looks at her like she's crazy. She grabs his hand and readies herself, "Ness, I'm not ready!"

"It's just like jumping out of the elevator." She reminds him.

"I didn't jump out of the elevator!"

"Oh. Well you'll be fine!"

"Vanessa!" She jumps it, latching onto the flipping open car door and keeping it open. Michael grabs onto the side of the van, very unhappy and very scared.

She helps him in the passenger seat first before kicking the Mini Men off the wheel. She settles into the car with a smirk, sliding it to a stop. They stare down Detective Millard, who just climbed himself out of the grave. She feels like an action star. Vanessa revs the car as she puts it in drive.

"Don't run him over!" Michael reminds her.

"Right, right!" She puts the car in reverse, "Let me just—"

She slams on the gas and the car runs right into a tree, snapping it in half, "Ness!"

"Relax. This thing is built like a tank."

Michael stares at her, "That's not the problem!" She puts it in drive, turns the car, and slams on the gas. The van charges through the tall brick wall and screeches onto the road. Vanessa woops and hollers as they speed down the road. Michael throws on every seatbelt the car has.

"Woo Hoo!" She cheers, "Nothing like the open road!"

Michael clings to the car, "Did you lose your fear response too?"

"What? Nooo. I just push that way down whenever I'm on company— wait, too? Oh you got to tell me that story!"

He pants against the seat, "Maybe later, when we're not in a metal death trap."

Vanessa sighs and pulls onto the highway, mainly to give some driving time to calm herself. She throws on her lofi playlist and drives down.

"Hey," She asks, some time later, "I'm sorry you didn't really get to mourn… whoever was there."

"No, it's… it's fine. He wasn't there anyway." Vanessa frowns and turns back to the road, "There… There's still one last place we can check."

Michael braces himself and opens the front door to his house. Dust flies in his face as cobwebs tear from the handle. Figures Dad wouldn't have taken care of here.

"So this is home, huh?" Ness asks, moving past him into the house.

He follows her and closes the door, "Yeah."

It feel ancient, and yet… the same. Nothing's moved beyond it's decomposition. He can imagine his Mom cooking at the counter top, and him slicing up vegetables next to her, "Don't touch the bookshelf in the study. Everything else is fair game."

"Got it," Ness says, more looking than anything else. Michael forces his feet to move, "Whoa, you weren't kidding."

Michael peaks into the living room. She looks at his TV set up, "This is… almost the exact same."

"Yes," He chuckles awkwardly, "You can see why I… I kinda…"

"Yeah," She rubs some dust off the chair, "That's… freaky."

"Well, at least it's all still here." He says. Ness frowns at him, "I'm gonna check out the bedrooms. Just, call if you need something."

She looks him in the eyes, "Same for you, okay?"

He smiles back at her, then moves to the rooms.

Elizabeth's first; he didn't lock himself out of Elizabeth's room when she died. It's covered in flowers, and pink, and there's blueprints on the desk.

Michael walks over to them, assuming they're Father's work, but no. Judging by the shaky lines and doodles in the corner, these are hers. Her own ideas for animatronics. She never told him about this.

He remembers her bugging him about how he got his lines so smooth. He just told her to fuck off.

He doesn't realize he's crying on the blueprints until the ink starts to bleed. He closes them quickly; Lizzy would never forgive him if he ruined her work. He looks around for anything else.

Her roller blades are by her bed. When she was learning, she'd have Father drive them out to the nearest skate park nearly an hour away, everyday. It was nightmarish to nine-year-old him.

Less than a year later, he learned what real nightmares were.

He picks up the skates. They aren't pink and cutesy like everything else. She won them in an… elementary school free for all? He's not entirely sure on the details, only that it ended with most of her classmates bloody, over half the school in detention, a whole class suspended, five kids expelled from public elementary school, and Elizabeth got a new pair of roller blades.

He looks at the sky blue blades. They look to be about Gregory's size, and he should probably bring him some type of apology gift. These should work. Not like Lizzy will miss them.

He walks to the van, just to set down Lizzy's stuff. When he re-enters the house, there's thumping upstairs.

Ness's dragging his parents' mattress down the stairs. "Do you need help with that?" He asks.

"Nope," She grunts, "This baby's all mine. I'm not sharing."

Michael furrows his brows, "What? Am I just left with the shitty pad then?"

Ness turns to him, glaring territorially, "Steal your own mattress, dork." She goes back to dragging the king size mattress in the most inefficient way possible.

Michael frowns and makes it his mission to load up every twin mattress into the van. He takes one from his room, one from Lizzy's room, and two from the guest room.

Ness catches onto the plan pretty quickly, "What? You're gonna princess and the pea this shit?"

He grumbles, "Shut up." He loads up him mattresses and looks back into the house, "I've got one more room left. You good on leaving soon?"

Ness shrugs, "Just gotta check out the study, then I'll be good." Michael nods, grabs a bag, and heads back inside.

Now the real beast. Michael slowly opens the door to his little brother's room.

Fredbear isn't on the bed, which is… good. He didn't like the doll anyway. He flicks on the light, finding the dustiest room in the house. Other than that… there's really nothing in it. He didn't realize his brother's room was so barren when he kept locking him in here.

He walks into the room, imagining what it's like to be stuck here for… hours. He flops down on the bed and feels tempted to laugh. It's really, really awful. He's such an awful person.

He gets up and sees four dolls behind the door, "Hey guys." He says, closing the door and flicking the light switch. It doesn't work because no one lives here, so he just takes out the flashlight Detective Millard gave him, "You guys must have been lonely, huh? Don't worry, I'm going to be taking care of you now. I've got a growing collection back… home." Because this place isn't home anymore. It's just… some house.

The dolls don't respond. He doesn't expect them too. He frowns, "Foxy, where's your head?" Poor buddy's missing his noggin. He can't imagine how that happened. His brother loved this animals, maybe more than he loved his family. He can't imagine Father or Lizzy tearing it off for any reason, and he didn't touch it.

Though, if someone keeps scaring you with a Foxy masks, and they don't stop, you might not be too keen on seeing that face among your friends. You might just… rip it off.

"I'm sorry, Foxy," He says, because it's his fault his head's missing, "I'll take care of you from now on." They don't say anything, and Michael doesn't want them to. To him, they're just dolls, but to Evan they were special, and that's enough for them to get special treatment, "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner." He says.

He shivers. The room's temperature dropped like 20 degrees since he closed the door. Who knew so much of the heat came from the open windows and doorways? Michael gets up and tries the door. It's locked, that's weird. Maybe the mechanism just clicked? If so it should be pretty easy to unclick. He jangles the handle a bunch. Why isn't it—?

"Kick!" is his only warning before Ness kicks the door open, breaking the lock and the door in the process. Michael's barely able to step back in time. Ness looks at the door, "Oh shit, was it locked? Sorry, I can come back later—"

"No! It's fine. I think it was old, and just locked on accident."

"Oh, well then your welcome. Hero Ness to the rescue."

He laughs with her, but something catches his eye. The grandfather clock, in the reflection, there's that dream girl again. The girl with the tied pigtails and overall dress. She's smiling, floating closer.

Than she notices something and leaves, scowling. What was—?

"Michael!" Ness nearly yells, shoving a plush in his face, "Do. you. know. what. this. is?"

Oh, that's where it went, "Yeah, I know what it is," He says, batting her hand away, "Where'd you find it?"

She shrugs, "Just on the floor in the study, now tell me what it is."

"It's Evan's favorite plush." He says, looking at the faded, golden fabric.

Ness looks at him funny, "Really? This thing? It's creepy." She turns the doll around, with it's blinking green specks of eyes following her.

"Yeah, it does that. State of the art technology at the time." Vanessa frowns at it, "Evan used to say it talked to him."

She hold it out at arms length, "Wait, really?"

Michael snorts, "Well, yeah, but he also said he could talk to ghost, so take what he said with a grain of salt." Michael takes the doll before Ness can throw it out the window. He turns it around in his hands, watching the green specks stay glued onto him. They remind him of his own eyes, "Guess we're not so different." He whispers. He looks back at his reflection, at the white pinpricks that denote his view, then back to the green, "Well, maybe a little different."

He can't remember if they were always green. Probably. Security puppet had green eyes, and that tracked your movements too.

He sighs, bouncing the doll in his hands, "I kinda hate you." He admits, "But… you were his favorite, so I'll take care of you too."

If he didn't know any better, he'd say the doll is relieved, or smirking, or emoting in a way dolls can't. But he's drawing the line at listening to this thing. It's just in his head anyway.

Ness moves past him and takes the final mattress, "Well, now that that's settled, you wanna go get some ice cream?"

He looks down at the plush and gets the feeling it does not not want to get ice cream, that it despises ice cream. He laughs at the thought, "Yeah, let's get some ice cream."