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The first thing he says when he hears a child piping up that he had been sleeping (which is an adorable way to describe him shutting down) and they decided to climb up his stomach hatch to hide is:
"Please do not make it a habit to enter inside an animatronic, you may die."
He gets a squeak from inside.
The second thing he adds, as he feels something shuffling inside his hatch (likely from the panicking child), is, "My stomach hatch is for oversized cakes and piñatas, not children, and I would like to keep it that way."
He then opens his hatch and gently removes the child.
(Somehow his stomach hatch becomes the safest place a child can be in and he wants to laugh and cry at the irony of that.)
It was automatic now to apply to any security guard job listing in some Fazbear or Fazbear-adjacent food place. There was always a slot open without fail. The pay was always terrible, the work environment even worse, and the actual things you have to guard would be something out of a horror movie. If the guards survived the first nights (and it's always night shift that's notoriously bad), then they had the sanity to quit immediately.
He was not one of those sane people. He has had his insides scooped, has been accused of being a murderer several times by many angry spirits of dead children (only one of them is true), and has endured rotting and repairing himself again and again. Sanity was left the moment he looked at himself in the mirror and vowed to find his father.
Besides being attacked by animatronics haunted by angry children, he had nearly been used as another meat puppet (with a bunch of minireenas of all things, what audience liked those things to merit another location creating them?), and had discovered a strange bodyswap phenomenon with one of Fazbear's stuffed toys (he supposes being dead allowed him to hear the cries of the souls in goddamn teddy bears). There were other incidents too, ones that muddled his search for his father because they were so bizarre and dangerous enough that it could be something his father was doing (and it was, it's just that Fazbear or some other Afton-related engineer was continuing his horrible research).
He was not paid enough to deal with this. God, he wished he was.
Better pay would be nice, he's limited in material options when it came to replacement parts for his body due to his tight budget. He didn't need to eat and drink, but he preferred his own room to keep his things and avoid being mistaken as a homeless man who died in the street (it's happened once and he got screamed at and thrown a bible on his head for waking up confused), so a chunk of his money was for rent.
One would think that the son of the CEO of Afton Robotics and co-founder of Fazbear Entertainment would have enough money to stuff his pockets and wallet full. But the only thing his father gave him was a job for an animatronic rental station with just a mysterious order to find his sister and free her.
And that had been one of the nicest interactions with his father for years.
"She's a jerk," Gregory says as he leaves the first aid station. "Also, I told you she was after me!"
“I said nothing!” Freddy assures him. “I will do what I can to keep you safe, I promise.”
The way that woman had blamed Freddy for ruining the show pissed him off. He had watched it, that was how he got the idea to sneak into Freddy's hatch, and he didn't need to be some robot technician to know that it wasn't Freddy's fault that he glitched and fainted.
Gregory sniffs. “I hate adults like her.”
"Officer Vanessa does not have the best of jobs in this establishment and that often puts her in a negative mood," Freddy admits, opening his hatch. He lifts Gregory to help him climb up easier. "That being said, I do agree that her words can be unnecessarily harsh."
"You can say she's a jerk too, s'not like I'd tell anyone."
"I have protocols that prevent me from using harsh language."
"Seriously?"
"I cannot even say the mildest of profanity," Freddy says, almost sighing.
"... Profanity?" Gregory repeats slowly, making sure he was saying it right. He's starting to suspect that he'll have to get used to Freddy saying complicated words.
"Swears."
"Oh." Gregory wrinkles his nose. "That sucks."
Swearing is fun, he's said a few fucks and shits just to see how adults would react. Plus, it feels better when he's hurt or gets caught, it helps him ignore the pain and panic.
"I'm sorry you can't swear," he says sincerely, and while he doubts Freddy would feel it, he pats the inner casing of his back as if to comfort him.
He hears a low rumbling chuckle that makes the hatch vibrate.
"It is alright, I can still wish her all the exotic butters during her employment. I have even sent a formal email suggesting that they should send a basket to her for her hard work!" Freddy says happily. “And management listened! It was docked from her pay, as most Fazbear gift baskets are.”
"... You're weird."
Elizabeth, or Circus Baby, or Ennard—or whatever the fuck she wants to call herself now—looks at her with unadulterated glee. Pressing the button the moment she-they-it assured him that it wouldn't hurt.
They lied.
It gets worse when they enter him. He wants to faint, he wants to die, as he feels wires tear away more of his flesh to make room and he has to watch himself vomit out blood and guts and even bone. Unable to control his body.
He mentally begs Ennard to end him. Tells them that they could take his body as long as he stops feeling every crawling wire in his flesh.
The number of security bots increased and Freddy noticed Gregory's exhaustion enough to not risk him sneaking around and getting caught, and so it was Freddy walking through the halls with Gregory in his stomach hatch.
"I don't understand why there're so many of those stupid things," Gregory complains.
Freddy can feel the child wriggle inside, trying to move away from any metal parts that are bruising him. He wonders if they can pilfer some pillows and plushies in the souvenir shop to cushion his hatch.
The daycare would have better pillows, but he suspects the Daycare Attendant knows he houses Gregory inside, as even he was declared banned when he tried to enter and his stomach was given a stinkeye (an accomplishment considering the Daycare Attendant's face doesn't move).
"The pizzaplex is large and Officer Vanessa is the only human staff member during the night," Freddy says, sidestepping a few wet floor bots. "She cannot watch the pizzaplex by herself."
"Not complaining, but why not just hire more guards? Most malls do that," Gregory notes. "You got all these security offices and cameras and that lady probably just uses one."
"That would mean giving actual pay and benefits to the guards," Freddy says, and Gregory thinks that's the driest tone he's heard from the bear.
"You guys don't get paid?"
"We do not." Freddy hums. "I suppose we can have free pizza, but only Chica can fully appreciate that benefit."
Gregory scowls, resting his head on his curled-up knees. It made sense that robots wouldn't get paid, but it leaves an awful taste in his mouth thinking that Freddy sings and entertains parties all without some kind of reward. And with jerks like that lady talking down on him like that.
"The security bots are kinda dumb though, why do they need flashlights?" he asks. "Isn't night vision a thing with you guys?"
"It is likely more cost-effective to mass order flashlights than manufacturing similar optics like mine."
"Cost-effective?"
"Cheaper."
Gregory takes in all that information. "... So your boss is a cheapskate."
"Fazbear Entertainment is notorious for using underhanded tactics to cut corners," Freddy affirms. "We are fortunate that they increased their budget in electricity. The batteries in the security offices have been upgraded, they hold more power now."
"That's a lot?! The first one I entered only had fifteen percent!"
"And that was only for the door, there was a time that looking at the cameras would risk draining the battery,” Freddy says. “One location did not even have doors for the security office.”
"What the fuck?" Gregory whispers, imagining what it would have been like to conserve not just power on doors, but on cameras and lights as well, imagining what it would be like to see Roxy dashing towards you without and door to block her way.
"Language," Freddy scolds immediately, then sheepishly adds, "That was an automatic response to profanity. I am not actually angry at you, I just want you to know that."
Gregory blinks. "... You'd let me say fuck?"
Most adults get bothered by it. Though would Freddy be considered an adult? He definitely uses more big words than them, and he's more reasonable than any of the adults he's met.
"Language. This situation warrants some swear words, I know I would do the same if I could."
He stays in the house only for his little sister.
He endures his father's caustic words so he can comfort Elizabeth as she cries and cries for Evan. He hugs her and lets her sleep on his bed when she sneaks into his room, sniffling and looking at him with miserable eyes, he whispers sorry again and again as she falls asleep. He does all the things he should have done with Evan.
He's blessed with a sweet sister who somehow doesn't hate him for taking their brother away. Who doesn't look at him in fear, thinking she'll be next ("Will you feed your sister to Spring Bonnie next?" his father often asks, always when Elizabeth is nearby. "You would, wouldn't you?").
She knows, how can she not? He's been titled a killer in school, the one who got his little brother killed at his birthday party.
It's only his words that keep Elizabeth from going near their father's clown animatronics. He tells her that he's scared, that accidents have-can-will happen. There's something unnerving with those animatronics, something that sends a chill down his spine as they look at him. These were models that Uncle Henry had no part of, and he feels that it lacks the warmth that his uncle's works always have.
And if even father doesn't want either of them to go near it, then he must think that something could go wrong.
"Maybe you can ask father to have your birthday in Circus Baby's Pizza World," he suggests, seeing a tantrum about to grow with Elizabeth's puffed cheeks and clenched fists. "It's only a month away, could you wait until then?"
"But my classmate gets to see Circus Baby and I can't!"
"Father just wants to make sure Circus Baby is perfect," he tries, stamping down his urge to snap at her and tell her to grow up. He wasn't doing that anymore, he wasn't making his last sibling cry. "You know how he likes to do a lot of tests in his animatronics, right?"
He gets a sullen nod.
"Circus Baby needs a lot of practice before she can perform for you, just wait."
"... Fine, but I better get a nice present from you from my birthday!" She points a finger at him. “A Baby Alive!”
"That creepy baby doll you can feed weird baby doll food with," he declares solemnly, nodding. Those were ridiculously expensive, but he should be able to save enough with his part-time job. "Got it."
He gets a shove and an affronted screech. "It's not creepy!"
"It is. You like clowns, Lizzie. Just accept that you love creepy things."
A pillow is thrown at his face.
He stays for his little sister, stays so she won’t be alone with a cold father surrounded by colder animatronics. He stays to keep an eye on her, she loves their father’s works, never afraid like Evan. He stays until she's buried next to his little brother (and he stares at that small coffin, thinking he should have never trusted father with her life, even if she was his favorite).
And then he packs up and leaves, not bothering to leave a note to father.
"You really don't mind if we put more stuff in your stomach?" Gregory asks, arranging a small blanket, orange with numerous small lightning bolts, inside Freddy's stomach hatch. "It won't... it won't hurt or anything? Don't robots have overheating stuff?"
"My hatch was built to either keep food cold or warm," Freddy answers. He was sitting on the ground so that Gregory would have a better view in arranging the blanket. It would do for a cushion for now. "A child and a blanket are not enough to overheat me, you can even put some cushions for support."
"You sure? It might get heavy."
"This is not the first time I have had someone crawl inside me," Freddy informs him. "I will be able to handle it, you are a lot comfier in comparison."
"Just tell me if it gets hard to carry me."
Freddy lets out that belly-deep chuckling laugh again and ruffles his hair. "You are more thoughtful too."
"I'm old, Michael," his father says on the phone, sounding for all the world like a meek elderly man. Croaking and soft-spoken. "I can't bend over to tighten screws and lift animatronic parts like I used to. Surely it hasn't been so long that you've forgotten what I've taught you?"
Michael says nothing, focused on keeping the grip on the phone handle steady. He knows that's utter bullshit. His father would swing an ax and chop a tree in pieces if he wanted to, he just thinks it's beneath him.
"Being a technician will be a good step to an actual career instead of your childish hobby," his father continues and he doesn't know what stings worse--the fact that his father had been keeping tabs on him even after he ran away and didn't bother (didn't care) to try and bring him back or that he thought the band he was in was a joke (and really, does a man that creates singing animal robots for children have any right to judge?).
"I'll think about it," he says, short and succinct. His father was always better with words, was always good with twisting his own and making him feel like the scum of the earth ("Oh, now I'm the villain, hm? Wipe your tears, Michael. It's time for you to grow up. This is for your own good.").
"You'll be able to find your sister if you take the job. Wouldn't you like that, Michael?"
What?
"It's been so long since you've been an older brother, isn't it?" his father asks gently. "This could be a second chance."
His father was always good with words, he always knew what to say to him. He always knew the right thing to say at the right time and the right tone to make him feel like everything he's done has made his father's life harder and it's his fault.
When Evan died it became easier. He wasn't just a horrible son. He was a horrible brother. A criminal. A murderer. All true, all things that he gets reminded of as he looks at stuffed bears and crying children.
He knows this. He's aware of it. Even some of his friends point it out ("You're not going out of your way to shove kids into animal robots and kill them, your dad’s shitty for telling you that.").
He knows he should step back, hang up, ignore any rings from his telephone.
And yet.
"... You have a minute before I hang up."
Months later, when news of his father missing reaches him, he stands before the entrance to Circus Baby's Rentals and wonders if he'll ever truly escape the control of his father.
'Fuck you!' he thinks, sending command after command to keep himself standing still, to order his new claws to stand down and not scratch the child beside him. He keeps his head up, refusing to look at Gregory. If there was a chance that he'd lose control, then Gregory would at least have a headstart in hiding as he wouldn't know where he was.
'Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU-!'
'How uncouth,' an amused voice rings in his head, smooth and low and horribly familiar. 'And here I thought the pre-installed manners in this Freddy would finally teach you refinement, Michael. You speak so differently with children, I've seen videos.'
'I don't use manners on killers!' he snarls mentally, canceling an external order that told him to assign Gregory's profile as an intruder.
He hears his father laugh and loathes that at one point he sounded like him. 'Oh, that's rich coming from you!'
'I regret it!'
He doesn't bother to hide his anguish as he projects those words.
Every day, every hour, every minute. He can't remember Evan's face anymore, he even wonders if the similarities he sees in Gregory are real or just a false memory his guilt-addled brain-processor has created. But his regret has never faded, the clawing guilt in his very soul will always be there.
'I regret that moment, you old decrepit hare!' he spits. 'Do you? Was Elizabeth just a beta tester for your sick experiments?'
'YOU-!'
Before he gets a full reply, Gregory sets him on fire. Pressing a button that activates the hidden flamethrowers Uncle Henry had installed in the rooms years ago.
He gives a laugh as his father screeches, a Freddy-patented laugh. Low and jovial, just to send shivers to his father's rotten spine. He knows he's hearing this as flames lick his shambling body.
'You should have listened to Uncle Henry and stayed in hell,' he thinks as the purple haze in his vision starts to fade and he sees the number of external commands lessen.
Fire burns and he sighs in relief.
No more nights of watching cameras and doors, no more looking at newspapers and finding dead children on headlines, no more looking at his shriveled purple skin and wondering if he was human.
He closes his eyes and leans against his chair. He feels Helpy hop off the desk and land on his chest, laying there, staying. He built the tiny animatronic as a companion, to stave off the loneliness and terror when he had to interview the salvaged animatronics, when he had to stay in his office and do his tasks.
He presses Helpy's nose and smiles at the small honk the small bear emits.
Fire burns and he stays.
Flames start spreading and the floor begins to shake.
The tunnels begin to tremble, the walls of the old pizzeria crack and crumble, and they both look at each other with wide eyes.
Rocks fall and Freddy grabs Gregory and sprints, ignoring how much of his battery is draining with his running. There's enough remnant in the air to call upon another second wind.
His tomb burns a second time and he runs, not looking back, not when he still has Gregory to protect.
They somehow exit the underground pizzeria and Gregory manages to find a van to hotwire and drive (there was an argument on who should drive which Gregory only won by pointing out that he would have a harder time driving with his large body).
The ride is silent, both of them slowly comprehending what had happened to them tonight. They didn't even react when a flying map bot hit the window shield (Gregory just turned on the wipers to make it slide away).
His battery is so low. He can't manage another burst of energy, not this time. He's drained, wrung dry to keep up with what’s happened.
"Gregory," he murmurs, his vision flickering as he struggles to stay online. "My battery... I do not think I can..."
He dies.
Messily.
Painfully.
Finally.
He lies on the pavement, bleeding out from his mouth where Ennard left. He can sleep now. Close his eyes.
He hears a child's voice say-
He starts up as normal. Not in safe mode, not in reduced power. He waits for his system to do their usual boot process and his loading screen disappears to be replaced with the vision of Gregory looking down at him worriedly.
The sun is shining, the sky is a clear blue, he can hear birds chirping from the distance. His battery is still low and he fears getting up will drain it immediately. Gregory looks grimy and scratched up and tears stain his cheeks, but he's alive. Alive and whole.
They look at each other, not saying a word. Gregory looked like he wanted to hug him, arms reaching out but hesitant as if he would shatter the moment he touched him.
He gives a slow blink. "You were not planning to sell my parts while I was sleeping, were you, superstar?"
With a snort and a laugh, Gregory flops on top of him, hugging him as much as he could with his thin small arms.
"Maybe," is the muffled reply he hears.
"Maybe? That is worrying," he says mildly, slowly raising his arm and letting it rest on Gregory's back. He hums a song as they both lay on the ground.
Today is another day, and they were both alive to see it.