Chapter Text
Michael often likes to think he’s a decent person. Maybe not a good person- definitely not a good person- but decent? Midtier? He could work with that. His father scraped the muck off the bottom of the barrel, his brother skimmed the top before he died (before Michael killed him), and Henry and he were floating in the middle. It isn’t ideal, but it is realistic and Michael knows he isn’t a good person.
But. Even so. Even if he is a bad person, isn’t decent at all and is just fooling himself into thinking so, Michael can’t help but think that this is a low blow. Waking up in your seventeen year old body after dying tragically in a fire as a whole corpse is just rude. He’s even wearing the grey tank top, the faded leather jacket he’d gotten at a thrift store, and the ripped bluejeans he’d worn most often as a teenager. Like an unfunny joke from the universe. Didn’t he get to rest in peace? And where is this place, anyway? It looks like what would happen if the 80s threw up on a mall. Looking around, he tries to get a better grasp of his surroundings.
Locking eyes with a plastic cardboard cut out from where he’s slumped- out of the way, his brain whispers, like something disposed of- he feels a cold stone of dread sink to the bottom of his inexplicably existent stomach. Colourful versions of his old "friends," as well as two new ones, gazed at him through stylized eyes. There’s no Foxy or Bonnie, and Chica’s cupcake is missing. In their place stands a green alligator with a red mullet holding a suspiciously familiar guitar, and a purple wolf with a green streak in her long windswept hair with a bass guitar. They’re both smiling, flashing the sharp teeth lining their gums.
Why would anyone put metal teeth on an animatronic anyway, he thinks hysterically. Oh wait, Freddy’s. Still staring deep into the glammed-out Freddy’s cobalt blue eyes, he works to get his breathing under control.
Only then did he realise what the weighty feeling in his chest is, and internally starts to kick himself for not noticing earlier. He has organs. And a skeleton. Whatever this is, it’s going to be so much harder to do with a working human body- For as much as every second as a corpse was unbearable agony, it does have benefits. After all, no needs to be met and the whole not-able-to-kill-what’s-already-dead comes in handy when you’re running for your life. Patting his chest, he doesn't feel the hole. Yep, he's back in his teenage body.
Getting his breathing back under control takes a while. Once he does, however, he heaves a mighty sigh and resigns himself to whatever his father has decided to mess with now. Must be his father, he reasons. He always comes back. Has to be his father, because if it were anyone else, Michael will be going in blind and he is completely unable to handle that thought right now.
Composure regained, Michael does what any reasonable teenager would do when placed somewhere new: Explore. The mall- a sign over the cutout proclaims it as a “Mega Pizzaplex”- should have a security guard. Running with what he knows about the Fazbear establishment, Michael figures that at least the security guard wouldn’t want to kill him. He can use his much easier to move teen body to escape any potential threats to his… life? Unlife? Afterlife? Not sure, so he’s rolling with it.
Standing up takes a lot out of him. He’s really tired, especially after he’s just worked himself into a panic, and it’s only the knowledge that he might be able to actually die now that keeps him moving. Another cautionary glance around him reveals that he’s near the front entrance. There are stairs leading down to the exit not far from where he is, on the floor. The downside is the thick metal blocking him from the outside world.
That seems as good a place as any to start. Michael makes a mental note to keep track of the turns he makes, and sets off.
A humanoid bot with a grey hat and a question mark emblazoned on it is the thing that almost kills him again. The thing shows up out of nowhere and immediately jumpscares him. He flinches back from it, inwardly panicking, and it speaks at him.
“Please take a map.”
He’s stunned, but not speechless. “What?”
The robot gestures again with its outstretched claws and beckons for him to grab it. It repeats the phrase again, “Please take a map.” If Michael wasn’t like thirty percent sure that he’s having a vivid hallucination, he could’ve sworn the robot was exasperated.
When the robot makes no room to move, the map hanging between them uselessly, Michael’s heartbeat returns to a normal enough rhythm that he feels comfortable letting down his guard. “... Alright. Sure, why not. I’m lost anyway.”
The map bot beeps in an almost pleasant way before it rolls away. Michael examines the map closely.
Good news: There’s a security guard’s office. Bad news: This place is huge. He really wasn’t wrong when he thought of it as a mall, it has attractions lining the walls… bringing him to more bad news. In between the security guard’s corner and where he’s pretty sure he is are several personalised attractions. A loud sigh escapes his lips. He's starting to believe he's actually in hell. Well, whatever. There's nothing he can do right now, so he gets up and starts moving towards the interior of the mall.
As he’s walking, he finds a pocket knife propped up next to a doorway, likely debris from an animatronic roaming or a little kid's abandoned shiny thing. Michael pockets it. Not far from it is a magnet of Mr. Hippo’s face, which he also pockets. As a familiar item, if nothing else.
Walking a little further brings to his notice huge double doors. “Superstar Daycare Pick-Up” announces the brightly colored text above it. Which. Is weird. And a little concerning, because it means wherever he is the missing children's incident was covered up. The doors look locked. Trying them reveals that it’s because they are. Fantastic.
Next to the doors, he’s failed to notice a brightly colored machine that declares itself a pass dispenser. Michael, in a moment of both ingenuity and stupidity, sticks the magnet right onto its tiny screen.
"Come on, Fazbear's. Please let your equipment still suck. Please give me something...."
The machine clinks twice, makes a noise that makes him wince (having eardrums that work again is starting to suck), and finally with a clunk deposits a pass into Michael’s waiting hand. Half-expecting it to be an elaborate ruse, Michael turns it over. He’s only more skeptical when it’s a daycare pass.
Things in his life rarely work out. That this did is a huge red flag. Michael approaches the daycare cautiously, unlocks the doors as quiet as he can- They flare open with a loud boom. Ominous! Okay, he can work with this. Omens and evildoings are both things Michael specializes in. Specialized in? Michael looks for the entrance behind the double doors, and….
It’s a rainbow twisty slide. There is a shoe cubby next to it, and Michael dies a bit inside as he slips his red converse off and climbs in. The air of seriousness evaporates as Michael slides down the entrance, dying a little bit further as he is swiftly deposited in a ball pit with a thunk. He rubs his head as he climbs out, surveying the overly embellished room for any problems, such as the dual sun and moon animatronic(s) pictured on the murals displayed on the walls. He's not sure if there's one or two of them, so he needs to be on high alert.
Then, an echoing thump of something falling into the ball pit behind him makes him jump. A chipper, overly peppy voice screeching. It’s oddly reminiscent of his first meeting with the souls of the Golden Freddy suit- Is this one going to spam "It's me" as well?
To his surprise, it doesn't. “Hellllllooooooo new friend!”
Michael turns around and comes face to face with the sun animatronic. The wide smile looks much less inviting in person than it does in the mural, and whatever self-preservation instincts Michael possesses beg him to run, to leave. Anywhere but here. Michael’s fear response is stronger (it usually is) and he freezes.
The animatronic, undeterred by Michael’s ongoing panic, continues to ramble on. “You sure are up late, are we having a slumber party? Where’re all your friends?” Michael audibly winces at that question. Dead. His friends are dead. Sun-face (oof, that insult sucked. He's so out of practice) ignores him, continuing on. “We can finger paint, tell stories, drink Fizzy Faz till our heads exPLODE!”
Michael’s fond memories of being a teenager before…. Included many nights of sneaking into the diner and eating for free with his friends. The food always gave him stomach aches. He’ll pass. The end of that sentence rubs him wrong, too. He backs up, every step is mirrored. “...And stay up all night!” The animatronic finishes. Then, their tone changes. It gets darker, more urgent and desperate. “There is only one rule. Keep the lights on… On…. ON!” Yikes!
Michael flinches back when the animatronic screams, and this seems to snap them out of it. Sun- because that’s what Mike has decided to call him, he’s the pinnacle of originality- immediately starts fretting over him. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, new friend! It’s a very important rule. It’s to keep you safe, after all!”
What? Keep him safe? That catches Michael’s attention. “Keep me safe from what?” Is there another animatronic here, or a child murderer like the other pizzerias? He hopes it's not his father.
“Don’t worry new friend! You’ll have so much fun with me you won’t want to go to bed! We could have slumber parties, and draw together, and so many more fun things!” Sun’s bright smile dims for second- literally. The animatronic is glowing. Why is the animatronic glowing? Who designed these? “But. New friend, where are your parents? Or your friends? Are you here by yourself?”
Well, his parents are dead, but Michael's pretty sure Sun doesn't want to hear that answer. He hesitates to answer the question, deliberating before finally deciding to be honest. “I don’t… know?”
“Hmm, well. New friend, that is certainly worrying. I’m Sunrise, I’m the Mega Pizzaplex’s daycare attendant!" Oh thank shit, Michael can stop calling it Sun. "Who might you be? I might have some information on my databases that can help!”
“Oh… uh. I’m-” Think fast, think fast, think fast. “Michael….?” Nope. not fast enough. No last name for you.
Rolling with it, Sun indulges him. “Okay Michael! Scanning…. Oh, that’s a kerfuffle. We don’t seem to have a guest profile registered for you. Sorry, sunshine.”
Michael feels the whole room darken with the light that leaves Sun’s smile and feels distinctly like he’s kicked a puppy. The puppy is a whole foot taller than him, and so far has been nothing but incredibly ominous, but still. “It’s… okay, Sun. I, uh. Did come in here looking for something though. Do you know where the security office is? I’m hoping to get out of here.” Sun visibly wilts. Shit. “Not that I don’t like your company! I just. There’s something I have to do!”
“Oh ho ho! Well in that case, I’ll help you! You’re not like the other rulebreaker here.”
Wait, what. “There’s another person here in the Pizzaplex?”
“Yep! That rulebreaker.” Sun said rulebreaker with the same vitriol Henry had said “old friend,” all that death ago. That death that didn’t stick. Which he needs to figure out. Focus, Michael.
Sun, still vaguely mumbling about lights and rulebreakers, leads Michael to the security panel hidden in the back of the daycare. With a warning about how the breaker is super touchy and that he shouldn’t trip it, Michael is left alone as Sun saunters off to clean… something. Michael looks at the pile of equipment in front of him and ties his jacket around his waist, which takes some effort. Satisfied, he places his hands on his hips and surveys the scene. There is a lot of work to do. There's clutter everywhere, and Michael spends a second shoving things around before he's even able to get to the computers, let alone the breaker. It looks like something barreled through here... like there was a fight.
After searching through the computers for a while, Michael finds out that the most likely person/animatronic (because apparently these ones weren’t created by his father! Not even blueprints or spare parts! Completely new, hopefully not murderous animatronics) to know anything would be Freddy Fazbear himself. Leader of the band himself. Michael, however, is not as much of an idiot as his actions often make him look, and knows that simply charging into the fray would be risky. Especially since Fazbear apparently had a malfunction earlier today. Which is in 2025. Filing that information away for later with the breakdown that's sure to accompany it, Michael pilfers a spare Fazwatch lying in the corner and downloads the blueprints to all the animatronics just in case. Satisfied with his prep work, he turns around. On the way out, his hand grazes a small insert-card machine with another pass in it. His cursing kicks up a whole other notch when he hears it:
A small click.
The breaker flips, and all the daycare is plunged into darkness. As it does, he hears Sun’s voice change into a low, haunted echo. Too different to be the same. Well, at least that answers his question as to how many animatronics there are in the Daycare.
“You shouldn’t have done that….. Rulebreaker.”