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It happens in an instant. His hold breaks, fracturing a bond that was meant to last a lifetime. A bond that’s there to keep his boy safe.
To make sure that this boy - unlike his bestest friend - doesn’t meet an untimely fate.
And it’s broken by a technician.
The technician is stuck in the VR world, evading The Mimic’s wrath. But that is the least of his worries right now, though he makes a mental note to take his revenge in any way he can. The most important thing is re-establishing that connection with his son.
That connection could mean life or death.
Only The Mimic can keep him safe.
He, like he often does, forces Vanny to do the dirty work. These days, she’s less likely to fight back, giving in with little fuss. Sometimes, The Mimic misses their arguments. He shouldn’t - her constant back-and-forth wasted his time - but being confined to the depths of the pizzeria is boring beyond comparison. And without his son to keep him company, the boredom sets in quickly.
He paces the room, keeping tabs on Vanny’s whereabouts. Without the connection, The Mimic can’t tell where his son is. Even with the Faz-watch, Gregory’s whereabouts are sporadic. He sends updates to Vanny, but they’re little help.
He finds himself staring at the empty cot in the corner of the room.
The very empty cot.
The very empty cot that a certain little boy should be curled up on, sleeping.
The Mimic often wondered why there were so many rules his best friend had to follow. And while many of those rules were likely because of the type of person his creator was, most of them only made sense when he started looking after a little boy of his own.
Of the most important was bedtime. Gregory gets fussy and temperamental without proper sleep, as evidenced by his snippy behavior tonight. Not that the animatronics didn’t deserve it, but it only goes to prove his point.
An hour passes, then two, and The Mimic becomes aware of Gregory’s plan to play all the princess quest games. An impossibility - surely - given all the animatronics and Vanny closing in. But the very idea that both his follower and son could very well be ripped away from him, makes him worried.
He threatens Vanny and Freddy with fire and brimstone, which is a wasted effort on two fronts. One, Vanny is already terrified of messing up. And two, Freddy - just like Gregory - is no longer under his control, at least not at the moment. So, his threat filters through his stupid metal bear ears like the annoying buzz of a dying fly.
By hour three, The Mimic pictures his son dying because of the carelessness of the animatronics. Moon, in particular, frightens him. The night time daycare attendant has a history of being none too gentle with the kids, and if Gregory’s being difficult, he could employ more “unconventional” methods to get him to sleep.
The Mimic will rip him in half if that happens, but just the thought that it could, makes him shake with rage. The only good thing that would come of that is the possibility of it triggering Gregory into surrendering back into his control.
Unlikely, but he can hope.
He’s about to ascend to the pizzeria to search for Gregory himself, when Vanny proudly exclaims, “got him!”
And with those two words the entire pizzeria falls silent. Well, besides Freddy’s confused calls for Gregory to come out of hiding, and his son’s frightened cries to be “let go.”
He tunes Freddy out, knowing that his concern will wane by the time the first group of kids arrive in the morning.
The Mimic hurries to the elevator at the end of the hall. He stands in anticipation.
His son’s cries grow louder.
His heart breaks a little. Not because he feels bad about keeping a child imprisoned in a dark, dank, foundationally unsafe environment. Nor because he feels guilty for taking away from a childhood, corrupting it.
No, his heart breaks, because for all the pain he has, and will continue to, cause Gregory, The Mimic can’t stand to hear him cry. He sounds like a kitten. Feeble and weak and needing protection - needing his protection.
Vanny drags him off the elevator, presenting him to The Mimic like a scruffed kitten. Gregory shakes in her hold, no longer able to put on a brave face. Only small traces of defiance remain in his big brown eyes, glancing up at The Mimic when he thinks the robot isn’t looking. Which is ridiculous, because he’s always watching. Especially now, after the night his son put him through.
“Gregory,” he starts, taking him from Vanny. He dismisses her with a wave of his hand. He holds his son under his armpits, lifting him until they’re eye level. “I am so disappointed in you.”
“Let- let me go!” His son shouts. Apparently, the fire of escape hasn’t left him. The Mimic sighs.
This is why children need good sleep. Otherwise, they think silly thoughts, like they want to escape, or that being forced to room with a decades old robot imbued with the power of friendship and spite is terrible.
He holds Gregory like a small child. “Time for bed,” he says, making his way back to their shared room. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
The idea of tomorrow is already exhausting him. All the things he has to get done to reestablish the connection that was lost because of that stupid technician.
Gregory struggles in his arms, but it’s as fruitless as all his other attempts at thwarting him have been.
As all his other attempts will be.
The Mimic tries to calm his child by humming and pacing the tiny room. It helps - a little - but Gregory isn’t one to give up. He fights against sleep, trying to twist out of his arms. It’s not long, though, until the events of the night have finally worn him down.
He yawns, and his eyes slide close.
The Mimic chooses to hold him for several hours more. Afraid that, if he lets go, his son will disappear.
"I won't lose you. I can't lose you," he mutters, pressing his face into the crown of Gregory's head.
And he won't.
Never again.