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Micheal, despite all he had done, had thought that his lifetime of dedication to fixing had made up for those childhood mistakes- and for those of his father. After all, he had spent the majority of his life chasing any remnant of his bastard of a father, and did so while piloting a rotting fucking corpse of a body and the remains that Ennard had left behind as it slunk away into the depths of the sewer system. That being said, he had never forgiven himself. He hadn't been there to watch over Elizabeth at Circus Baby's Grand Opening like his father had asked him to, instead choosing to hang out at the neighborhood park with his friends while their mother took Evan to some doctor's appointment or another. And, his worst sin of all: Evan. He hadn't been the one to suggest placing his head in Fredbear's mouth (that had been Derek, hiding behind his third Freddy mask that year after being so reckless with all of the others), but he had lead the charge, so to speak, and he had been the one covered in the most viscera when all was said and done.
He never liked to think about that day- that cursed year of 1983. It had taken first his sister before his unthinking acts had snapped his brother into the afterlife in a painfully drawn out process (he hoped that Evan couldn't feel his injuries while he laid on that bleak hospital bed, vitals monitors steadily beeping, at the very least), and not much later, his own mother, who had mentioned splitting from his father one late night before never showing her face again. (He had known, then, in the way that one hoped the worst answer to a problem wasn't the correct one, that she had not run off, but rather had been killed. He had never liked to admit it, though.) And then, by the end of the year, his father had stopped bothering to come home at all. That's why he hadn't been surprised when the man had sent him a letter in March of 1985, rather than just telling him himself. (Though, he supposed that he shouldn't have trusted the word of his father, of all people. He had known better. A lifetime of false promises and misleading advice followed by biting words and harsh hands should have taught him that. He also supposed that that was why he could feel nothing but bitter resignation rising in his chest in that dimly lit scooping room, faced with his demise. He could have escaped, should he have wished it so. Now, however, he thinks that he might have believed he deserved to be taken out in such a way: by the remnants of two-thirds of his late family.)
That being said, he had gladly walked into the light (figuratively, of course) as the raging flames that had consumed every inch of the Pizzeria took him down with it. It was the end of his mission, and he had been fine with finally moving on, no matter what the afterlife had in store for him. And, he would have assumed that the Universe itself had seen his hard work and would let him rest, but, the reflection that stared back at him in a bathroom stacked with tacky eighties decal and neon lights said otherwise.
He almost didn't recognize himself. Didn't recognize the shaggy brunette mullet that fell in waves around his neck and the tops of his shoulders. The spattering of freckles that marred his barely-tanned face. The silver eyes that had always been his father's and never truly his. Hell, even the baggy uniform for that damn Rentals place was the exact same as he had remembered it- light purple and wrinkled to hell and back, a shoddily made name tag reading 'Mike S' in bolded gold lettering clipped to it. He even wore the same pair of navy jeans that he remembers being torn apart in. He didn't look a day over fifteen, but he had no idea where he was. He may have looked straight from the eighties (because he kind of was), and the decor seemed like some sci-fi fantasy of the period, but it was all far too advanced to be. Plus, he was confident enough in his memories to know that they hadn't been some kind of fucked-up fever dream. That, and he knows that he'd never even heard of a place like this in his teenage years. It would have been the talk of the town- even the country- if a place like this had existed then. (He refused to acknowledge the way that he could still feel Ennard's remains slinking about inside of him, despite his flawless exterior. If he pretended hard enough, he could merely convince himself that it was just the remnants of his old normal, and that he wasn't still a freak of nature who functioned only because they were just a mesh of a metal endoskeleton piloting a bag of flesh.)
He knew that he couldn't stay in the dimly lit yet somehow too bright restroom forever. He wanted to, sure, but the Universe had dragged him back from his sullied hopes of eternal rest, and so he'd be a willing puppet to whatever mission it needed him to accomplish. And, if the past was anything to go by, it meant that his stupid fucking father had survived yet another god-damn fire and was back to bring misery into the lives of everyone. Hooray. (At this point, he was seriously considering flipping the bird at the Universe and telling it to stick it where the sun don't shine. He'd done enough, hadn't he? He wasn't responsible for his father's actions. If the man wanted to parade around in a dumb, rotting bunny suit like some kind of furry, then by the heavens let the man. What was law enforcement for if not enforcing the damn law? William broke all of them- including the rules of reality. And, well, Michael had never fancied himself a cop. Let the real cops take care of it, yeah? He had a feeling that the Universe wouldn't take too kindly to that idea, though.)
With dread filling every crevice of his unfortunately living form, he slid out of the unoccupied restroom and into the biggest fucking place he had ever been in. Seriously, what the fuck was this place? By the posters and cheesy decals and other decor, he could make out that this was another Fazbear establishment. But why was it so… high-tech? Sure, William and Henry had been a pair of God-damned geniuses when it came to the world of robotics and AI and all of that fancy nonsense that he had never quite understood. (He knew enough to repair the fuckers, but that was it. The thought of learning more, of becoming more like his father in more than just looks and the Afton family ability to not stay in their graves, had sickened him to his core and truthfully still did.) He also knew that once Henry had began to distance himself from his father (rightfully so), he had created an actual company instead of just being some guy from fuck-all Utah trying to sell the world his batshit and, quite frankly, dangerous idea of an animatronic themed diner. (Not that animatronics in and of themselves were particularly a danger, as he had seen some pretty cool ones pop up in his days slinking around the underground and desperately searching for another lead. It was more of the fact that Henry and William had always desired more from their creations than just lifeless entertainers. They wanted them to be something, and that had consequences, with or without the involvement of child murder.) But, those two were dead- or, well, in William's case, believed to be dead. The company didn't have access to their unparalleled minds, and that only brought more questions than answers. Also- when was he? Because as much as he would like to believe that he had been thrown back in time to 1985, being given a chance to kill his father once and for all without decades of personal suffering, he knew that it wasn't the case. Michael seemed to know a lot of things that he didn't want to know or even think about. Such is the tragedy of life, he guessed. (Un-life? Did he still count as a living being? Who fucking knew, at this point. He wasn't sure he gave a shit, either.)
His spiraling musing was interrupted quite suddenly when the familiar, heavy clanking of an animatronic's footsteps echoed throughout the corridor. (Rockstar Row, if the posters on the walls were anything to go by.) He dived behind the nearest bin, thankful for his relatively small stature. (Sure, he had hated it back in school, always being picked on by those who had shot up faster than him, but it came in handy once he had dived head-first into the life his father had, in the end, forced him to lead.)
"I have candy!" A high-pitched, nearly-human voice rang, and Micheal, despite every instinct in him screaming to stay still, snuck a glance at the creature. It looked to be Chica, with a white base instead of the yellow he was used to. She had pink markings on her face, and her outfit looked like one of those ads for those shitty jazzercise videos he had seen on the telly. She was hunched over, as well, stumbling along like each step was a challenge, even though Micheal couldn't even begin to hear the creaks of her joints, like he had grown used to with his father's and uncle's creations. She thankfully didn't notice him either, continuing her slow shamble down the hall until the sound of her footsteps were merely a faint memory. He breathed a sigh of relief. (He would say his heart was pounding, but, well, that would be a lie. The squirming of metal inside him proved that. Hell, he had only ever kept breathing because he was so used to the motions. It wasn't like Ennard had spared his lungs. That thing hadn't spared an ounce of sympathy for him.)
Deeming the area safe, Micheal unfurled himself and left the bin he had hid behind. He thinks, if he were still a kid and didn't have God knows how many years under his belt, he'd find the bright, neon lights and inviting decal fascinating, and he probably would've even begged his dad to take him here (it being a Fazbear establishment aside. This was a hair-brained fantasy, after all. Let him live it.) It was certainly a better hang-out than Fredbear's or the neighborhood park. (He thinks Peter would've liked this place. The kid- well, he's sure he's a man now- had always loved these kinds of aesthetics.)
He continued down the corridor, keeping an eye and ear out for any other wayward animatronics. He halfway wonders if he would be able to catch a glimpse of Foxy- if the lineup is even the same. The pirate had always been his favorite, seconded only by Bonnie (if only because the bot was Peter's favorite). Those things may have instilled countless nights of terror and dread in him, but there was still a childish spark in his heart that became giddy at the thought of them. Call him a fool, but he had grown up around those animatronics; he couldn't help but be fond of them. (Besides, could he really blame the terrified, enraged souls of the children his father had taken? He didn't think so. At first he had been bitter, sure, but his brother had been one of those anguished souls. His sister and mother, too. Now, he just felt sad for them.) Granted, these new, high-tech ones freaked him out because god knows the range of motion they were capable of. He had no fond memories of these creatures, and he just hoped that they weren't powered by the agonized memories of children's souls. God save them all if they were.
"Freddy!" A petulant whine reached his ears, and for a moment, he was frozen. It was a voice he hadn't heard in a great many years- a voice he hadn't had the pleasure of listening to (though a younger him would have never described it as a pleasure) since 1983. That whine, that near-girlish tone, sounded just like Evan fucking Afton did, and Micheal didn't know how to process that tidbit of information.
"I know, Superstar," what he assumed to be Freddy's voice chuckled. "We're almost back to my room. We can come up with a new game plan, there!"
"After you recharge," Evan-but-not huffed.
"Yes, Gregory. After I recharge."
Gregory. Huh. Who the fuck named their kid Gregory? Also, last he checked, Freddy was another one of the mother fuckers who were always after him. Was this some kind of shitty lure, like the Funtime animatronics had? (Also, really, why had William named them funtime? Nobody had a fun time around those things.) Why, of all animatronics, would Freddy be helping literally anybody? The only one more aggressive than him was Bonnie, and not by much, if he was honest with himself.
He hid behind a cut-out of what looked to be Chica (though truthfully he didn't really look at it, just judged whether or not he could fit behind it reliably.) From there, he watched as the pair walked to a room he hadn't spotted in his look around due to the red curtain covering the giant window, as if it were a display at the zoo. Freddy was… peculiar, to say the least. He was a flower-pot orange with blue and red decals that reminded him, for some reason, of Freddy Mercury. Though that might have been the general design of the bot that screamed... flamboyant. He still had his stupid little fucking tophat, too.
Gregory, on the other hand, was nearly the spitting image of his late brother, with shaggy brunette locks that looked to have been haphazardly cut with a pair of shitty scissors, one of those god-awful polos that Evan had adored, and khaki shorts. He even had the same brown eyes. His heart would have burst if he had had one.
"Hold on, Gregory," Freddy paused before the two came to the alcove where he assumed the door to Freddy's room was. "I sense that there is someone else here."
Micheal froze, ducking back behind the cutout, hand clamped over his mouth to try and muffle his panicked breaths. (Honestly, you'd think he would have just stopped by now. The undead didn't particularly have a need for oxygen.) The only thing going through his head was that damned scooping room, only able to see the silhouette of Ennard's towering form through the glass that lined the walls. It was dim and dark, and the chilling metal of the scoop was a brutal contrast to the way the sharp edge had struck him in his burning gut, sticking on his ribcage for a brief, agonizing second before ripping him apart and leaving him formless, an empty sack of flesh for the amalgamation of his family and souls he didn't know to puppet.
"Are you okay?" Evan-Gregory's voice sounded next to him, and he flinched, his whole body flying back to hit the wall behind him as his eyes shot open. Freddy stood behind the boy, towering over them both with electric blue eyes that held a familiarly fond look in them that he couldn't quite place in his disarray. "Mister?" Evan-Gregory continued after a moment of silence had passed. "We're not gonna hurt you, you know." The kid pouted, huffy in only a way a child could be, cheeks puffed and flushed, and bottom lip jutted out in a way that could not be replicated disingenuously.
Hesitantly, and with every bone (still figurative, of course) in his body screeching at him to run, he nodded, placing his hand in Evan-Gregory's outstretched one. He was still shaken up, and, if he were honest, he really didn't trust Freddy or the fact that this kid seemed to be buddy-buddy with him. (Maybe, though, it was some sick joke from the Universe. A child that looked like Evan Afton that adored and trusted the model of his demise? Yeah, that sounds like the Universe, all right.) But, despite his mistrust (and rightfully so. He knew what happened when you trusted an animatronic. He was the undead proof of that), he had been caught, and putting his faith in the seemingly unharmed child was all he could do.
"I'm, uh- I'm Michael," he stuttered meekly, voice raspy and quiet from his panic.
"Nice to meet you, Mike- yes I'm calling you that, no you don't get a choice. I'm Gregory!" The kid paused, as if thinking something over. "You're not gonna kill me, right? That wouldn't be very cool." Despite himself, Micheal snorted. Freddy remained silent, piercing gaze following their movements carefully.
"I'd have done it already if I was."
"Okay," Gregory (Evan, his mind still screamed) nodded, seemingly satisfied with his reply. "I asked because of your name tag," the boy's bony finger pointed to the one that he had forgotten was pinned to his chest. "There's a security guard here that's really mean. Her name's Vanessa, and she's been hunting me down in a bunny suit." Gregory seemed so nonchalant about the situation that it took a bit to process the last bit of what he had said. When it had finally gotten through to him, he couldn't help the long-suffering groan that escaped from his throat, head thrown back in disdain.
"Of course it's a fucking rabbit suit. Why wouldn't it be?" He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that Freddy muffled a laugh.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Gregory tilted his head in curiosity. (Why were kids so straightforward? It was equally hilarious and concerning. Was he like that as a child? He hoped not.)
"Nothing," he muttered, taking a moment to compose himself before perking back up. (As much as he could, anyway. Even now that he looked fifteen again, he wasn't particularly energetic, worn down with the weight of the world as he was.) "Okay! First things first!" He took a breath. "Where the fuck are we?"
"Language," Freddy spoke, though it seemed to be a programmed response if the aggravated sigh the bear let out afterwards was any indication.
"We're at the Mega Pizza plex! How do you not know where we are? You had to walk in here, didn't you?"
"I must have… hit my head, or something" he offered weakly. Gregory just raised a brow, but didn't pry further. He was thankful for that. He wasn't sure how to answer that question any other way. 'Sorry, kid. I kind of just spawned here, apparently fifteen years old again, after who knows how long of being literally dead. Just Tuesday things, amirite?' Yeah, that'd go over well.
"Whatever," the kid huffed, arms crossing petulantly. We need to get to Freddy's room. He needs to charge." Freddy's eye twitched, an ear spazzing, as if to prove that very point.
"...Right. Let's, uh, go then." Micheal does not think that he could be any more awkward. Somehow, social interaction is the most looming threat he's faced in a long time. Go figure. Chase killer animatronics for a few decades and suddenly you forget how people work.
-
Once in Freddy's room, the bear directed Gregory to the couch and the plethora of plushies that occupied it. He claimed to want to talk to Micheal for a bit, and honestly, he was kind of glad that Gregory wasn't going to be there if this was where Freddy killed him. He'd rather not have a kid witness that. In the storage room- which was far too dingy and dark in a familiar way for him to be comfortable- Freddy sat down on a box, facing him with a gaze that betrayed years far beyond what his model should have.
"Micheal," the bear stated. Greeted? He didn't know. It was entirely neutral and that scared him. Usually, when someone acted apathetic, it meant that they were seething. He had sported many bruises growing up that detailed the consequences of that.
"Y-yeah?" He stuttered, embarrassed at his inability to compose himself. Really, he was better than this. He wasn't some scared kid anymore. He had decades of experiences far worse than this! It's why he had scoped out the storage room they were in before the door had even slid shit behind him. There was nothing that would slow Freddy down if the animatronic were to lunge at him, but the vent on the far wall provided an escape- one where Freddy could not follow. (And wasn't that a little funny, to be the creature in the vents this time around.)
"How the fuck are you here, kid?" The bear groaned, resting his head in an oversized paw in a way that just screamed exhaustion. "You shouldn't have come back after I set the whole damn place ablaze."
Now that- that threw Micheal for a loop. The only way this Freddy would know about those events was if- but no, it couldn't be. He'd never seen a soul that was posessing an animatronic body actually be aware. They had all been leftover emotions from the time of their demise that set them on their never-ceasing missions. Of course, he didn't really know how it all worked (but he's sure his father did- the fucker), but he could make a fair few educated guesses.
"Uncle Henry?" He whispered, his mouth betraying him and spilling the words that had filled his metal-stuffed chest with long-abandoned hope. The bear in front of him just nodded solemnly. "But how- why- I- what?" Truly, this was a certified 'what the fuck' moment.
"I dunno, Mikey," Freddy-Henry sighed, the age-old nickname the man had called him making his nonexistent heartstrings pull for a reason he knew not. (Maybe it was because, after Charlie's death, he had never seen much of his beloved Uncle- though he was really just his Godfather- besides the occasional spotting at the diner or a drop-by for an event. It had been so long since he had really gotten to talk with the man.) "It should've all been over. Hell, we won- I was sure of it. I remember dying, feeling the flames consume my body. And then I was here in this damned pizzaplex, on stage, no less, and then there was a kid in my stomach that looked just like Ev." There was a pause. "I imagine it's the same for you, kiddo?"
"...I'm not a kid," he huffed, because for some reason that was what his brain decided to latch on to. Maybe he really was fifteen again. Henry (Freddy? This was confusing.) just laughed.
"Could've fooled me, Mikey."
"Whatever," he grumbled, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "But, uh, yeah. I was just… there in a restroom somewhere down the hall. I was and then wasn't- then suddenly I'm here, ya know?" He rubbed his upper arm awkwardly, words half-formed and stumbled as he rushed to explain an event he hadn't even processed, let alone understood.
"At least you appear to be alive again," Henry offered, and Micheal couldn't couldn't the bitter laugh that escaped him.
"'M not. I can still feel it in me. I've been… repaired, sure, but I'm not…" he trailed off. He wasn't quite sure how to phrase what he was- what he wasn't.
"...Does it hurt?"
"No. Not any- not anymore."
"I'm glad, kid." Freddy-Henry stood, the movement still unaccompanied by the creaking of joints like the bots he had grown up with. His hair was ruffled with as much of a grin as the bear's face could manage, too, and, despite the inherent unfamiliarity of the metal paw, the action was achingly close to his childhood memories of the man. "Go hang out with Gregory for a bit, Mikey. I really do have to charge."
"Okay," he nodded, turning to leave. Before he pressed the button to open the door, Henry's voice rang out again.
"Hey kiddo?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
Micheal didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't tell you the last time someone had uttered those simple yet powerful words to him and meant it.
-
"What'd Freddy want?" Gregory asked as soon as the door had slid open. (And oh how even a moment apart from the boy had let his mind forget that he was the spitting image of the little brother he had failed to protect. That he had led into Death's awaiting maws in a more literal sense than a freshly thirteen-year-old him could ever imagine.)
"He wanted to make sure I wasn't a threat before he let me hang with you alone," Micheal shrugged, the reply coming far easier to him than any form of speech had earlier in the too-bright hall.
"That's fair," the kid shrugged. And, yeah, he supposed it was a good lie. He took a seat next to Gregory, about three different Freddy plushies between them. (Seriously, there were so many.)
"Sooo," he trailed, awkwardly tapping his hands on his thighs. "How'd you get here?" (Maybe, despite his looks, the boy had just been separated from his nice, loving family. Maybe he really did have a life of his own, and he wasn't the always-crying boy he was desperate for him to be.)
"It was easy to sneak in," Gregory admitted quietly, messing with the arms of one of the Freddy plushies that he had cuddled close to his chest. (He hated how close orange was to the sickly yellow of Evan's Fredbear plush.) "I just… wanted fresh food, ya know?"
"Yeah," Michael sighed. After William had stopped coming back home frequently and then at all, he had been too young to work- too young to make money to buy himself food. He had to make do. At least, after he had been scooped, he didn't have to worry about scrounging his neighbors' trash cans for a bite of something edible. The dead had no need for such things. "That first hot meal… it really hits different." Gregory giggled, despite how depressing the statement was in actuality.
"Yeah. Best meal of my life- and I used to hate pizza!" Now, it was Micheal laughing.
"Tell me about it! Hated the shit until it was the only thing around that wasn't half-moldy and frozen."
"You're weird," Gregory said rather abruptly. "I like you." The kid paused. "Wanna help me destroy Chica?"
"Kid," Micheal startled. Facing down an animatronic was far more dangerous than he thinks the kid realizes. "That's not…"
"I already know how to do it," Gregory interrupted. "It's in the company files. She's done it to herself before- crushed in the trash compactor.
"Oh my god," Micheal gasped. "She still eats trash like it's some kinda gourmet dish?"
"Yeah," the kid wrinkled his nose in disdain. "It's gross. She smells."
"You got close enough to her to smell her?!" He couldn't believe it. Just how ballsy was this kid? Or stupid.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault!" He scoffed. "She was in my direct path! I snuck around her, though."
"You're fucking insane, dude."
"Or you're just too stupid to do what I do," Gregory smirked.
Micheal really didn't have a proper response for that.
"...Bitch."
"Coward."
He wondered if this was how his relationship with Evan would have been if he had just sucked up his own personal misery and hadn't taken it out on his little siblings. He thinks the very thought makes it all hurt indescribably more.
-
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Micheal cursed, dragging Gregory along by the arm as Monty chased them with a furious roar. (And really? An alligator with anger issues? That's what they decided to replace Bonnie with? Peter would be pissed. And why replace their most popular animatronic besides Freddy Fazbear himself? There's no way the bunny's popularity had dropped so dramatically in the breid time he'd been… away. And don't even get him started on how they replaced Foxy.)
"We need to hide!" Gregory shouted, entirely unhelpful.
"Can't hide when he's right on us, kiddo! We need to get to a security office!"
"Quit calling me a kid, asshole! I'm ten!"
"Still younger than me!" He didn't feel the need to elaborate by just how much.
"Get back here!" Monty butt in.
"No can do, Big guy!" He huffed, turning so fast around a corner that he was sliding more than he was running, just barely managing to make it into an open security office before Monty followed them around said corner. And, he had to admit, the door slamming shut in the gator's face was rather amusing. The place only being on half power definitely wasn't, though.
"Mike!" Gregory drew his attention from the door that had a rather sizable dent in it now, Monty's frantic clawing and bashing reminding him almost fondly of Foxy's polite knock on the left side door all those years ago. (Of course, he hadn't viewed the experience as fond at the time, but he supposed time had a funny way of placing rose colored glasses over the past.) "There's another badge here! It's level eight!"
"Don't touch it!" He gasped as the kid's hand reached forward to remove the badge from its docked position inside the Freddy head container. Thankfully, Gregory paused his action immediately and backed up. He sighed in relief. "Those things are always alarmed," he explained as he approached the terminal, the computers before him far more advanced than what he had been used to, but he could get around just fine, he's sure. "They've got fingerprint scanners to open 'em properly."
"How d'you know that? You didn't didn't know where we were earlier!" Well, that was a valid point- he'd give that to the boy.
"Worked at an old location. Fazbear Entertainment never really changes things up, you see?"
"But you're like… not old! How'd you work at one? They're like- like legend!" ….Also a valid point.
"It wasn't official," he said, and we'll, that wasn't entirely a lie. Night Guard shifts were always an under-the-table deal because of how risky the position was. As much as the company claimed that the facility was safe, even at night, they and their plethora of lawsuits knew better. "One of my relatives scored a management position and so I was able to help out for a bit of cash. Learned a lot of the ropes."
"It makes sense," Gregory relented, "but I'm also bad at math, so I don't remember when the last Pizzeria opened or closed compared to… however old you are."
"That's fair," Micheal shrugged, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him and being faced with a familiar 'enter password' screen. It made him wonder, since Fazbear Entertainment never changed much of anything, if they would go as far as to clear they're systems of old employee access codes.
It was worth a shot, right?
'Afton.75' was entered into the space. It was his father's old 'all access' code. Their last name and his little sister's birth year. (No, he wasn't bitter about the favoritism anymore. Being that man's favorite got Elizabeth killed, in the end.)
And, what do you know, it worked.
"Gregory," Freddy-Henry's voice came out of the kid's watch- a Fazwatch, he had called it. "I detected someone entering the system database. Is all well where you two are?"
"Sorry, Fred," Micheal spoke up before Gregory could respond. "That was me. Trying to get access to this security card here without tripping the alarms." Monty had only just given up, after all, and they only had about fifteen percent power left in that door.
"His name is Freddy," Gregory pouted. "Fred sounds stupid."
"I will call you Greg."
"Don't you dare."
The bear casing the security badge was in popped open, alarms blissfully silent. Yeah, Micheal wasn't too bad on the smarts end, if he was to pat himself on the back. That, or Fazbear Entertainment was just really, really idiotic. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
"Bingo," he laughed.
"Bingo?" The boy raised a mocking brow. "Maybe you are old after all. Who talks like that? Weirdo."
"Whatever you say, Greg."
"Hey!"
He'd have to convince Henry to get him one of those Fazwatch things. The fuckers seemed useful, especially now that he knew he had access to the entire pizzaplex's systems.
"Whatever," he shook his head. "Let's get back to Freddy. Then we'll pick up that Monty Mix or whatever you read about earlier, yeah?"
"Fuck yeah!" Gregory cheered.
"Language," Freddy's voice came through the Fazwatch's speaker, and Micheal couldn't help but cackle at the boy's pinched expression.
-
"So Bonnie was around!" Micheal exclaimed, looking around at the empty bowling alley with glee. That meant that they probably still had a Foxy attraction!
"Yes," Freddy said softly- or, well, as soft as the animatronic could manage, which wasn't very soft at all in actuality. "He was decommissioned some time ago."
"But why?" He furrowed his brow.
"I am unsure, Micheal," the bear (Henry?) admitted. "It is not logged in any accessible files."
"Well there's a security office somewhere around here, right?" He looked to Gregory for confirmation, knowing that the kid had easy access to a map of the place. (Thanks, mapbot… he thinks. That thing creeped him out.)
"Yeah. Check if there's a higher level badge while you're at it," the kid waved him off, already heading toward the parlor. (Man, he had loved ice cream when he was a kid. It had always hit the spot on hot summer afternoons. Then, Elizabeth had never shut up about the fact that she saw William install an ice cream machine in Circus Baby. He wasn't a big fan of the stuff, anymore.) He just shook his head in exasperation. The kid sure was bossy. (It makes him think of how pissed off he would be if he were thirteen again and it was really Evan that had grown a pair and finally stood up for himself. And that revelation? It hurt. It ached something fierce because he was always more like his father than he was ever willing to admit- including being an uncaring asshole.)
He waved Henry-Freddy off as he made his way out of the place. He didn't need the man's (robot's?) support. Besides, he wouldn't die. He knew that much after so many years of puppeting the rotting corpse of his teenage self. (The one thing he hated- besides the fact that each second unliving was a pain, an agony, so indescribable that he knew not where to begin- was that he never had a chance to reach that growth spurt his mother had promised he'd reach before he turned eighteen. He was perpetually short- forever.) Gregory needed the bear far more than he did. He could hold his own just fine. (He hated the way that the Endoskeleton that was his but somehow not practically purred in agreement.)
True to word, an office wasn't too far from Bonnie Bowl. (There seemed to be an office relatively close to every attraction which was, admittedly, smart. Almost as if whoever designed the place knew of the… finicky nature of the animatronics.) There was no badge sitting on the desk, waiting to be taken, but he guessed that that made sense. What was the point of a monitor on this side of the pizzaplex if there was no animatronic that needed to be monitored? He wasn't really interested in the badge, though. (Level eight seemed plenty high enough, and he's sure Henry would be able to utilize his new form's… strength if push came to shove.) What he was interested in was the terminal. Freddy hadn't produced another Fazwatch as the company was trying to cut back on production because they weren't a big money-maker and were rather high cost (according to Freddy's files, anyway), so he was stuck looking for what he needed wherever he could find access.
With another entry of his father's password, he was in. It made him a little giddy, though he'd be the first to admit that it was a bit childish. Having full access to the company's files because of a single password? That was movie-grade hacker shit, and, well, it made him feel kind of cool. Badass, even. But, no matter what he searched or how many keywords he used, nothing came up. Hell, even tracking down when Bonnie was in action due to maintenance and popularity reports and when those all disappeared and Monty's reports picked up showed nothing. It was like there was an entire section of information just- missing. Deleted. And that? It struck warning bells through his head that sounded louder than the beginning whirring of the scooper that had played on an endless loop in his head since then.
"Are you having fun yet?" A distorted, yet almost squeaky, voice sounded, his senses growing fuzzy and disjointed in a way that he hasn't felt since he had watched Fredbear's mouth spring closed on this little brother's head (spewing viscera and brain matter- more blood than any head should hold- down the once golden fur of the springlock suit, subsequently activating the entire mechanism with a series of click-clack-shriiinks before the screams of his friends ever reached his ears). With a speed and intuition only gained from years of dodging deadly bots, he threw himself to the side just in time for a razor-sharp knife to come careening into the metal of the security desk, slicing through it like paper. (What the fuck was that thing made of?)
"You're not Gregory," the rabbit (because of course it had to be a rabbit. Why couldn't Gregory have been lying? He didn't like to think about the implications of that.) Hummed in agitation, head tilting to the side in curiosity. But, it froze the girl (and wow, he was kind of grateful that he wasn't facing another killer animatronic and instead just a skinny chick in a patchy, clearly homemade bunny suit) for long enough for Micheal to react. "You're-" Vanessa (or had Gregory called her Vanny? Whatever- didn't matter.) started, but he cut her off by sending the desk chair crashing into her, knocking her onto the floor. And, as much as Micheal would have enjoyed watching the view for a moment to gloat in his small victory, he knew that she'd get right back up. She may not have been an animatronic, but she was still something, and if child murderers in rabbit suits had taught him anything over the years, it was that they always got back up. So, with an agility that only came from his newly revived teenage body, he sprinted back to Bonnie Bowl like his life depended on it. (Okay, it kind of did actually depend on it.)
"Micheal!" Gregory's shout reached him over the sound of his own thundering footsteps. The kid was half-hanging out of Freddy's stomach hatch as the bear quickly approached, eyes wide and panicked, and he assumed that it was because of the seven different endoskeletons that were pursuing the pair, stumbling and creaking but somehow far faster than they looked like they would be.
"What the fuck did you do?" He screeched, turning to run back in the direction he'd come from, side by side with Freddy and Gregory. (Honestly, he'd never get over how the kid was safest inside a fucking animatronic. Sure, it was Henry with far more sentience than he'd ever seen one gain, but still. The principle of the matter, and all that.)
"No idea! They just started, like, crawling from the lanes!"
"Well, odds are we're about to come across the bunny lady because she surprised me in the office!" He warned.
"This is… not good," Henry-Freddy sighed.
"No shit, Sherlock!" Gregory groaned.
"Gregoryyyy," Vanny's distorted voice came from beside them, and a glance to the side showed her in all her patchwork glory at the end of the adjacent hallway, rapidly approaching.
"Shit!" Micheal berated the gods themselves for their cruelty. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear!"
"Oh my god," Gregory groaned. "Quit speaking like you're fifty!"
But he was fifty something! Not that he could tell the kid that… 'Yeah kid, it's me, Micheal Afton, born February sixth, 1970!' He lived it and he wouldn't even believe himself if he had heard it! What, the local fifteen year old isn't actually fifteen? Likely story.
"For fuck's sake- just get back in the hatch and let's go!" The kid groaned, but did settle back inside Freddy's stomach cavity and close it up behind him. It was safer that way. And, if shit hit the fan, he was less likely to glimpse any of the aftermath- be it him or Vanny in pieces.
"Are you having fun?"
"Say something else, asshole!" He tossed over his shoulder at the woman. She seemed to have slowed at the presence of the raging endoskeletons, though. So, he guessed that she wasn't completely batshit- just fucking insane.
"Are they supposed to do that?" He heard her ask herself, but really, he couldn't pay any more attention to whatever the fuck she decided to occupy her time with because he was a little busy dodging grasping, metal claws.
"Mother of fuck!" He exclaimed as he rolled across the floor, quickly righting himself just to see Freddy already at the end of the hall, looking back at him with a worried expression. (It was terrifying how many expressions these new animatronics were capable of. It certainly spoke of their advancement.) "Go!" He shouted to Henry, making sure that he was louder than Gregory's panicked screeches begging to know if he was alright. The bear didn't look pleased, but a glare sent him on his way. Micheal could handle himself. He needed to keep Gregory safe. (Needed to keep him safe to prove to himself- to prove to Evan- that he wasn't entirely a monster.) Henry knew that. They both did.
It turns out, however, that Gregory was far more determined- and idiotic- than either of them had anticipated.
"Micheal!" The kid yelled, stumbling over himself in his haste to get back over to him.
"Fucking run, you idiot!" He cried, dodging another lunging endoskeleton. He didn't know where Vanny had gone off to, but honestly she was the least threatening thing in the entire establishment- OSHA violations included.
"Hey, little guy!" Monty's deep voice echoed down the hallway, coming from where Vanny had been earlier. Because why wouldn't it? Why wouldn't the Universe drag him back to unlife just to prove to him that no matter what lifetime it was, he was destined to fail Evan? To fail the little brother he should have cherished.
"Get up!" Gregory insisted, trying to evade grasping metal hands to get closer to him. "We need to go!" And yeah, Micheal knew that. But, he also knew that he would survive anything that this place threw at him because you can't kill what's already dead. Gregory didn't have that luxury (if it could even be considered a luxury). The Universe, in all its cruelty, had made this kid far more ballsy than he had any right to be, though, and that meant that it was up to Micheal to give it a big 'fuck you!' and save him. Sooner than he thought, too, because at present, Gregory wasn't sensing the claws heading toward his exposed back, the red eyes of the furious endoskeleton glowing like an overdramatized scene in a shitty movie. This was real, though. It was so very fucking real and it wouldn't matter if Micheal warned the kid because that thing was already too close.
His world flashed a white hot, fiery agony before he could blink. His vision had blacked out, but he could still feel- still hear. Through the burning haze of being torn apart from the inside out (don't think of the room. Don't think of the room. Don't think of the room), he could hear the whirring of animatronic tendrils. Of metal scraping against metal and the thump-crash-shriiiink of heavy steel crashing against the linoleum floor. But, he couldn't hear Gregory. Not even the sound of his Fazbear brand tennis shoes against the tile.
"Gre-" he forced out, unable to continue due to the acid it seemed to infect his throat with, eating away at it all like a rabid animal and only furthering each second of misery he was forced to experience. It wasn't new, though. Wasn't unfamiliar. He just had to get used to it again. Used to rotting and falling apart while still destined to roam the earth on unfinished business. Used to the feeling of only being kept upright by the remains of Ennard that decided that after that amalgamation's departure it was going to obey him like some kind of guard dog.
"Freddy, help!" Gregory's voice finally reached his ears just as the panicked steps of Freddy began to echo around them. He went practically boneless (in expression, of course, because he didn't have bones to begin with) with relief, relaxing as much as he could with every nerve alight as it was. Ennard's remains settled down, the constant whirring and searching they had been doing ceasing immediately as they returned to him, curling around him like a hostile snake.
His senses returned, slowly, vision clearing of its nothingness to show the blurry shapes of crumpled, lifeless endoskeletons and Evan-Gregory and Henry-Freddy crouched in front of him. His hearing, which had blanked out as soon as he had finally picked up the fact that the kid was alive, came back in a low buzzing and watery, muffled noise.
"Micheal, can you hear me?" Freddy's voice made it through the fog occupying his head. He blinked lethargically in response, steadily lifting his head to be able to meet the bot's eyes. (The general direction, at least. His sight was far too blurred to be able to make out the exact location of his electric blue irises.) He could see one of the eyes that thing left behind, held up by a twisting claw, observing the pair before him. He would think the situation amusing if it wasn’t the reason each moment was… well, it certainly wasn’t very pleasant. He wasn’t sure that there were any words in any language- real or fictional- that could describe the feeling of being ripped apart past what any human should be able to survive. To convey the feeling of being an empty bag of flesh. The feeling of limbs that weren’t his. The feeling of being a monster.
He managed a pained whimper as Henry-Freddy scooped him into his chilled-yet-warm steel arms. The shifting of his re-damaged form only jostled his already screeching nerves.
“I’m sorry, Mikey,” Henry hummed, a hand carding through his hair, metal claws gently scraping against his scalp. It was familiar in a way that both sent warmth through his chest and pulled at his nonexistent heartstrings, as so many things seemed to be doing this particular night. It was a bit of a relief, if he were honest, to feel a touch so delicate, even as the writhing forms of Ennard’s remains began to curl around Freddy, sending new shockwaves through him.
“Is he gonna be okay?” Gregory asked, voice wet and shaky with emotion. He could feel a metal claw gently curl around the boy’s trembling hand. It was almost sweet.
“He will survive,” Henry-Freddy reassured. Micheal appreciated the phrasing of survive over alright.
“I don’t understand,” the boy whined. And yeah, that made him feel a bit shit, but the kid was alive and that was all that mattered.
"It is a complicated situation, my boy," Henry-Freddy sighed, and as his consciousness faded, he realized that he hadn't heard Henry call anyone 'my boy'- one of the man's favorite monikers- since he was eleven. "I'm not sure the smartest man in the world could explain it to you."
-
When he came to (and wow, Micheal didn't know that he could pass out- he'd spent his unlife entirely awake, after all), it was to the blissfully dim sight of Freddy's storage room and the realization that the encompassing agony he had been in had dulled considerably into the full-body ache he had grown used to over his years. He groaned, pushing himself up and feeling Ennard's remains- which appeared to have curled back inside of him- slithering in apparent glee at his return to consciousness.
"Micheal?" Henry-Freddy inquired gently, the volume of his voice box appearing to have been turned down (thank god.) The bear was stepping out of his charging station, and Gregory appeared to be asleep in the corner, curled up in a mound of pillows, plushies, and blankets all adorned with Freddy's visage.
"'S me," he confirmed, rubbing at his eyes as a yawn escaped him. "S'rry 'bout tha'." Hmm. He had forgotten how much speech could be affected after just waking up. Rest was inconvenient. Freddy kneeled down in front of him.
"You okay, kiddo? You really scared us back there. Had to slip Gregory a moondrop just to get him to stop panicking." Micheal had no idea what a moondrop was, but he could infer based on context clues.
"Had to protect him," he shrugged, finding himself leaning forward to rest his forehead on Freddy's warm, whirring chest, seeking out the delicate, comforting touch he had felt after the bear had picked him up. Henry's hand returned to his hair as if on instinct. It was nice. (He had missed this without even realizing that it was something that could be missed.)
"I know, bud- and I'm proud of you. But, now you're in pain, aren't you? I could only stitch so much." He hadn't heard Henry sound so broken since the man had discovered Charlie's mangled corpse outside of his restaurant- even if it sounded a bit odd coming from a tone that wasn't the one he remembered from his childhood.
"'M used to it. 'S not so bad, anymore." It certainly wasn't a lie. "Feels normal, y'know?" Being put-together had felt… strange. But, he still feels that energy within him- that vigor that almost-living had come with. He was not the lethargic corpse he had been for so long. He did not have to force himself to move, or even speak, like he had had to do before. Existing was far more pleasant when everything he wanted to do actually occurred with nary more than a thought.
"You finally had a chance…" Henry didn't need to finish the sentence. Micheal knew what he meant- what he wanted to say but couldn't.
"I never did," he admitted. "I certainly didn't plan on sticking around after… He is dealt with."
"You think it's Him?"
"It always is."
They lapsed into silence after that, and Micheal just closed his eyes (which he's sure were back to their purple pinpricks that he had grown to appreciate after realizing that they were far from the silver of His eyes) and relished in the easy affection Henry gave. He was tired, sure, weighed down by a bone-deep, decades-old exhaustion, but he had a mission and, sooner or later (preferably sooner), he had to complete it. He and Henry both did. There was a reason the Universe had brought both of them back on the same night- the night where Evan-Gregory's life was at stake.
"Is he safe here?" He found himself asking.
"Yes," Henry-Freddy confirmed. "I should be able to lock this door in such a way that not even Vanessa's all-access badge can enter.
"And that moon-thing you mentioned earlier?"
"Too big to fit in the vents, and his programming prevents him from breaking Fazbear property- all of ours does. Besides Monty's, of course."
"Why him?" He scrunched his nose in disdain. He hated Monty. The bastard had been their most adamant pursuer all night, and he was fed up with it.
"They were going to use him as an after-hours security bot, I believe, before the higher-ups scrapped the idea. That is all the information my files have." He wasn't sure if it was Henry's age or Freddy's influence, but the man's formality when speaking still threw him off a tad.
"M'kay," he sighed, leaning ever-closer to the warmth Freddy's body offered before reluctantly pulling away. "Let's figure out what the fuck is happening here, shall we?"
"Language," Freddy chirped before the man let out another long suffering sigh. "This is Hell."
(Eventually, Gregory would wake up and find them, tagging along- forecefully- on their decades old mission to finally kill William fucking Afton, but for now, it was him and Henry against the world, just as it had ended, and now, it began.)