Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time seemed to stop after everything had been done.

Michael stood unmoving, seemingly having frozen in place. Not blinking, not breathing, not seeing. As If every thought within his head had stopped at that moment.

His knees remained locked into place as their parents approached what now seemed like a very dark room. His mother was kneeling beside his brother, holding him in her arms as tears started to fall from her eyes. Michael couldn’t see his father, the world had become a blurry mess of light and sound.

But his words eventually broke through Michael’s brain “What have you done?” he asked, he screamed. His son tried to respond, but his throat was too tense to let any sound pass through. All his brain was able to do as it caught up with the actions it had commanded, was to make tears run out of the boy’s still wide-open eyes.

Eventually, his knees allowed themselves to unlock, as he lowered himself beside the body of his younger brother. Was it a body anymore? Or just an empty shell? a corpse. He tried to get closer as his gasping for air grew louder. But he was easily pushed away by his mother’s arms, as she shot him a look of utter betrayal.

His father kept shouting at him, but his words had once again become mere echoes resounding in the restaurant walls. Only at that moment did he realize he was alone. Only a few spots empty of blood splatter remained as evidence of them ever having been there. His stomach became heavy with regret as he tried to utter apologies that would become lost to time to his younger brother.

Henry Emily hung the landline telephone inside the restaurant’s office. Adrenaline left him as his mind was filled with what had transpired in what he believed was the happiest place on Earth. After Disneyland of course. The thought of a tragedy striking the dreamland he had helped to build had never crossed the gentleman’s mind.

No one was there, no one had been there to stop what had happened. Not himself, not the other parents, and not William. Michael had always been a strange boy, but no one would have predicted things would turn out like they had done. But even If Henry could have not foreseen it, he could have still done something.

To be frank, he found himself surprised and relieved at the same time that nothing like what he had witnessed today had happened before. It had been foolish of him and William to have trusted the other parents and employees with watching over the children. It shouldn’t have happened.

And he wasn’t about to let it happen again. He would find a solution. A security measure more advanced than any human and more attentive than the best of parents. Something to keep the children safe. To keep his daughter safe.

He counted on William to deal with Michael. But he wasn’t about to let the same mistakes repeat in their establishment. He would use everything he had learned to make sure of that.

Unlike his siblings, Michael had always liked going to the hospital. He considered it a special day, just like going to the dentist or the ophthalmologist. This time was different of course.

There was no pleasant small talk, not even from his younger sister Elizabeth, who clung to her mother’s skirt as If the fabric would be enough to protect her from what she was about to witness.

No instructions about what to do when the doctors or nurses meet them were given. William did not even look at him to tell him to be on his best behavior. As If he had given up on him.

The only thing that remained was them following behind their father, as they had always done.

Each one of them had a role to play as they entered the room. His mother left the freshly picked flowers next to his bedside, trying in vain to make the gloomy room feel brighter. William stood beside him in the bed, as Elizabeth hugged him from behind, offering comfort despite his emotionless expression. His wife stood beside him as he gestured for his son to come closer.

“Come here Michael, apologize.” It was strange to hear his father once again use a neutral tone with him. But Michael wasn’t about to complain, he bent slightly above his brother, as his mother and sister held their breath, perhaps thinking that he would deliver a finishing blow during their lowered guards.

But instead, he simply did as instructed and apologized. Something he would like to think he would have done even If he hadn’t been told to do so. He tried to be as quick and as unfeeling as possible, not wanting to cry after what he had done. But all he could hope for was that his honesty would reach his brother.

After that, he simply stepped aside. He pushed himself against a wall as he pretended to look at the windows while his father whispered what he could only imagine were comforting words to his brother. But it almost seemed like a curse, when with his final word, the beeping that had mixed with the hospital’s ambience ceased, only to fill the room with silence.

His mother immediately started sobbing loudly as Elizabeth moved on to hug her. William simply got up and left. And never came back into the room. Michael simply stood where he had been, letting the world move while he stood still. As he pondered what had put them into such a situation.

When he was Gregory’s age, his parents had taken him to a clinic after his teacher’s complaints. He had learned about that after a parent-teacher conference, where his mother had yelled at his teacher after he had called her son “a retard”.

She had gone on a winding rant about how he was “normal” how he had been raised “the right way” and how “the doctors just said he was afraid” along with many other things that had become jumbles in Michael’s brain by the time he was twice that age.

But he knew deep down that wasn’t true, the only reason he had been allowed to be “normal” in school had been thanks to Dean. He had explained to him that by being friends with him, the most popular guy at school (according to himself), he had gone up a spot in the social ranks. Going from “freak” to “regular person” as he had put it.

Michael wasn’t dumb, at least not in that regard. He knew actual regular people didn’t bite their classmates, or tackle them to strangle them. So that funny sounds would come out of their throats. Or scare their little brother until he would start breathing rapidly as If he were a chewing toy.

The little brother he could only wish would banish from his life.

The jealousy he had felt towards his brother seemed to dissipate as he looked at what was now his brother’s carcass. All of the achievements he had accomplished that Michael had been unable to surpass, became as meaningless as his death.

Michael’s father never returned. He did not return to the hospital. And he did not return home. Michael knew. He hadn’t slept that night. Maybe If he did not sleep, time wouldn’t move on. So he simply stared at the clock, hitting the side of his head whenever he dozed off to try and stay awake.

His mother did not go to sleep that night either. He could hear the television through the walls, and its faint blue light filtered itself through the crack in his open door. He had never been allowed to close it. Not during the night, and not during the day either. His window on the other hand was always locked shut.

Ever since that day, he had run off to Fredbear’s.

The Saturday morning at the funeral home had been rather dull. The local mortician had done their best to salvage what was left of his brother’s face. But despite their best efforts, most guests focused their attention on the eyes of Mrs. Afton and little Elizabeth.

Their time was mostly spent comforting the former on the tragedy that had befallen her child, and entertaining the latter with the cheerfulness of someone who has just met their granddaughter on Christmas dinner. William in the meantime had been trying to convince the officials to let him bury his son on his property. Much to the church’s dismay.

Michael simply sat beside his sister, looking down as he performed his function as a coat rack for his family members, and as a vase holder for his little sister. Who had insisted on carrying some of the flowers that would be placed atop her brother’s tomb.

For better or for worse none of the guests had addressed him during their brief time there. And eventually, it was finally time to move on to the church service. So Michael handed out the coats to their respective owners.

The only one looking back as he did was his father, still with no movement on his face. His mother simply refused to look at him, not moving. While his sister turned her head away from him as he gave her back the flowers.

As they entered the church behind the coffin. Michael couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by the baroque structure that seemed gigantic in comparison to even the large hospital corridors they had traveled the day before.

The floorboards creaked below their feet, making it feel like the centuries-old structure would come apart at any second. Finally, the coffin was placed in its position and the priest instructed everyone to take a seat as the ceremony commenced.

Elizabeth left the flower bouquet she had been carrying beside the coffin. And sat back down beside her mother on the front bench. Despite a dirty glance from his father, Michael had sneaked away from most people’s glances as he sat at the furthest corner of said bench. Hidden by the shadows of the dimly lit church. Next to one of the many ornate confessional booths.

He couldn’t feel the glares being sent towards his corner as the proceedings dragged on. The priest’s speech was lost in the immense reverberation of his voice echoing against the walls. But he could imagine them coming from the statues that surrounded the altar, judging him with their unblinking eyes as he failed to do the sign of the cross over and over again.

His parents had never really been “true believers” of the faith. Only really attending to the proceedings because everyone else did so. He had refused to do his first Holy Communion, the only one besides another boy from his class. And his parents had not pushed it as long as he didn’t mention it.

He had secretly refused based on a conversation he and his best friend Dean (who had not attended the funeral, as far as he had seen) had had when they were eight years old. He had eventually managed to convince Michael to pray. After being answered by nothing but the silence of his head, Michael had become convinced he was going to hell.

From that moment onwards, Michael had gotten nothing but the uneasy feeling that he was trespassing whenever they visited church from there on out. And now just like those times, they were judging him for having stepped inside of somewhere he didn’t belong to. Which he supposed he didn’t after having killed his brother.

As everything wrapped up, he caught sight of his father abandoning his mum’s side to talk to the priest through the shadowy side hallways. Seeing him slip a bundle of green bills into the clergyman’s pockets while he whispered something in his ear. They then nodded to each other, as his father came back with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes plastered across his face.

The family was then given the good news of Gregory being able to be buried in the forest that surrounded their house. So that he could stay beside them forever and ever.

Later that night after a few too many beers, William was speeding through the highway. Almost missing his exit as the retro purple Plymouth drifted out of the wet pavement road that led to his house. And most importantly, towards the last stop of his midnight road trip, Jr’s bar.

The bouncer recognized William and quickly got the drunken man to turn around and go be someone else’s problem. The last time he had visited he had tried to strangle his competitor Bill A. Williams after they had insulted each other’s restaurants. And the owner of Jr.’s had since banned both of them from coming around. Not wanting to call the police.

So more sober than he would like to be, the patriarch of the family stumbled towards his house on the hills. But he wasn’t the only one creeping towards the property.

Michael had been expecting the roar of his father’s Plymouth as he repeated last night’s routine. But the sound that caught his attention instead could only be compared to the rumbling of a mechanical guillotine.

His tired eyes fell upon Fredbear, as he stood outside of his still-locked bedroom window, his golden fur now damp from the rain outside. Michael felt his blood freeze as the gigantic animatronic went to open his bedroom window, breaking the glass when it couldn’t force the lock open.

It looked at Michael, all the boy could see in his mind was the blood-stained teeth of the bear. But before it could attempt to come into the room, the roar of an old car engine that had just arrived startled Fredbear. Making the bloodied child entertainer flee into the night.

Michael breathed once more, as his mind caught up with the fact that what he had just seen was real. He closed the door as he tried to quickly dispose of the window shards that were now scattered across his windowless room. Only to get cuts on his hands in his impossible attempt to fix what was broken.

He could now hear his father talking to his mum in the living room, the latter making a tired attempt to stop her husband in his tracks. As the boy’s mind raced, he jumped out of the window, following Fredbear’s tracks in a desperate attempt to escape his father’s wrath.

He had never disobeyed the man in such a shameless way before and he wasn’t about to find out what his father was capable of beyond his usual disappointment. He was convinced he was dead.

Williams' rage escalated when at the end of the hall, he saw his son’s bedroom door locked. His wife tried to appease him from the couch, still watching one of her shows. But William ignored her after a few sentences that went through one ear and out of the other.

His rage grew when he realized the door had been locked from the inside. He would make that boy pay. He would make sure he didn’t ever disobey him again. His imagination ran wild with all kinds of violent fantasies, as he visualized his son's head on a spike. But he knew that would be too merciful.

Thankfully, in his mind. Michael himself had chosen his punishment when he ran away through the broken window. William would make sure he would never even think of running away from him, ever again.

Eventually, Michael lost track of Fredbear’s footprints in the rain as the hills became nothing more than a few trees and mud. He was soaked from head to toe and had started to deliriously shout to the air while tears started falling once again. At first, he tried to take out his frustrations on an innocent lamppost by kicking it over and over again.

As the insults he shouted towards the night became geared towards himself. He switched from kicking to bashing his head against the metal pole, still muttering insults and threats “You always ruin everything! Why can’t you just be fucking normal! Just take it, idiot! Take it!”

He kept wandering the streets until morning, still making stops to throw his rage against anything that looked solid enough to sustain it.

Chapter Text

For most of Hurricane, Michael had gone missing that Sunday.

But when he awoke from a sleep he hadn’t fallen into, he didn’t find himself lying on the concrete floor he had expected under a bridge. Instead, he found himself in a padded room that brought back memories of his younger years, but only blurry ones.

He found himself feeling dizzy, his head heavy. Probably from the beating he had given it the previous night. He remembered one of his teachers' words “Every time you hit your head, you lose brain cells!” but he supposed that it didn't matter much when you were too dumb to even figure out how to do an IQ test.

He clung to the wall as he made his way towards one of the two doors that stood on each side of the bedroom. He tried to open it, but it was locked. Then, having heard his struggle, his father’s words came from the other side of the door. As he calmly explained the situation.

“You see Michael. Your mother and I are very disappointed in you. We have talked, and we have decided that you will be staying here until you’ve learned your lesson.” The man paused, emitting an exaggerated sigh so that it could be heard through the door.

“But… If you are a good boy and behave, we will end your punishment by the weekend!” Michael couldn’t see his father, and he worried, being unable to see if a smile or a smirk had painted itself on his lips as he had said that.

“But If you want to be let out, you will have to show us that we can trust you. What do you think about that? ” Michael didn’t respond. Knowing that any verbal response would seem insufficient, instead he opted to slide against the door frame in defeat.

“Giving your old man the silent treatment, huh? Ok, you’ll come around” And with those departing words. Michael was left alone in the strange room once more. The only sound accompanying him was the buzz of the artificial lights.

At first, he tried to break the doors like he had seen in the movies. But neither of the doors would even budge. He tried picking at the bolts with his nails, only to be left with bloodied fingers and bolts that hadn’t moved a single centimeter. The vent in the wall was too small, he didn’t need to know rocket science to know his shoulders wouldn’t make it through there.

It was once again close to midnight.

“Don’t be scared, I am here with you” a high-pitched voice resounded in the room.

A startled Michael looked around. His eyes fell onto the plushie that his dead brother would lovingly call his “Psychic Friend Fredbear”. Its plastic eyes were staring right at him. Despite them always looking straight ahead in his memories. It had a few stitches in the places where Michael had bitten it in the past. And by now all of its stuffing had been dragged to the bottom from Gregory hugging it tightly every night.

Michael went to grab it when it once again started speaking. “It's too late. You need to hurry or they will get you!” Michel simply stared at the thing. He blinked a few times as he realized he had finally lost it. He threw the plushie against the wall, making it bounce right back at himself as it smacked his head. He was pretty sure by now his brain cells must have been at a negative number.

The talking plush did not seem to mind, as it proceeded to continue chattering up Michael’s brain. Giving him warnings about things coming to get him, coming for him like he had done to his brother. And just as the digital clock struck midnight, the lights went out.

Michael picked up his flashlight as he readied himself for whatever monsters would come for him in the night.

That night Elizabeth had waited for her dad to ascend from the house basement.

She had tried to get her mum to tell her a bedtime story. But she simply ignored her, continuing to watch the television as she looked right through her daughter. Simply nodding at her questions without really hearing them.

So she had made up her mind to wait for him. This time, like every night since her lil’ brother had “passed away to a better place” as her mother had explained to her, he ascended with his Fredbear plush in one hand and a satisfied smile in the other.

Elizabeth ignored the anger that seeped from her dad as he asked “What are you doing up at this time of night?” in a whisper that sounded more like stabs. She twirled her nightgown as she shoved one of her many beautiful colored books in his face, as she made her request “Daddy! Can you read me a bedtime story? Mum didn’t feel like it!”

The smile her dad had held now was gone, he simply told her to “go to bed, now.” As he made his way towards the still empty bedroom. He closed the door on his daughter’s face. Little Elizabeth dragged her feet as she walked to her room alone and with a deep frown on her face.

Her dad had been so moody since Gregory had left. And she couldn’t even yell at her dickhead brother Michael for having made him leave. Just like he had when her pet hamster Lilac had bitten his finger, he screamed, but he shook her off with such force that the poor rodent ended up splattered against the fridge.

She would still sometimes have nightmares about it.

Thankfully that night she slept peacefully. And when she woke up she was the first of the household, Despite it already being close to 12 A.M. So she took it upon herself to surprise her parents with breakfast.

Unlike her friend Charlie, she hadn’t learned how to cook yet. So she simply rummaged through the pantry. Trying to find anything special enough to cheer her parents up. Not noticing the high amounts of pills that had been recently added to their usual grocery list.

She settled for simply opening a bunch of different cookie jars. Arranging them in different forms upon the prettiest dishes she could reach with her short arms. She counted the glasses she would need to pour each one of them in her fingers. Deciding not to put any for Michael for being “a stupid shithead!” (she had learned that one last week from Dad yelling at another driver).

Her mum finally woke up. She found the bed beside her empty. Elizabeth confidently announced she had made breakfast that day. She failed to recognize her mother’s tiredness as she sighed “You shouldn’t have.” Opting to interpret it as a compliment.

She asked for her father, but her mum replied that he had already left. Making his cookie plate and glasses of milk and orange juice respectively pointless. In an attempt to salvage her efforts, Elizabeth asked for her brother, at least so that the food wouldn’t be wasted. But he hadn’t come back yet.

After finishing the dishes, her mother once again sat beside the television. Ready to let another day pass her by.

Elizabeth tried to pass the time in the silent house by playing with her toys, But it was no fun. So she eventually walked up to the telephone and slowly while looking at the cute teddy bear-themed phone book they always left beside it, she tipped the number to her best friend’s house. Not being able to contain her excitement, she waited for an answer, bouncing while holding it in her hand.

After a while, the ringing from the other side stopped, and before even anyone could ask who it was, Elizabeth chimed in with a high-pitched “Helloooooooooooooo!” Completely caught off guard by a slightly paranoid Henry Emily. Before he could even say Hello back, Elizabeth interrupted him once again to ask for her friend to come over.

“I’m sorry Elizabeth. But Charlie is on curfew” Henry regretted being so direct the moment Elizabeth's whines and complaints started hitting his ear. But he wouldn’t budge. He knew Michael was still missing, and he had told all employees, including his father, that he wasn’t allowed on the premises of Fredbear’s anymore after what he had done.

“I’m just concerned. You will see Charlie on her birthday on Friday anyway. You just need to wait a bit more. Ok?” Finally, the little girl relented, giving a defeated “Okay.” That was almost enough to break Henry’s heart out of his decision. But still, his stance remained, ending the call with a courteous goodbye.

And so he went back to work on what he called “The security Puppet”. Of course, in the company files it was simply “The Puppet”. Better for miscreants not to know about the trap you have set up for them before they are caught. His advanced “Robocop”, as Charlie had called it after having watched the film without her father’s permission, would be perfectly hidden in plain sight.

He had given William a haphazard explanation about them needing a mascot for the price counter. And wanting to do something special for his daughter’s birthday. And thankfully the other man had approved it without looking too much into the plans. Or so Henry thought.

His train of thought was interrupted when he heard small fists knocking on his office door. He feigned ignorance as he yelled “Come in!” and he saw his little daughter standing in the doorway.

He was quickly tackled by a strong bone-crunching hug as his daughter announced that it was already dinner time. The hours went so fast when he was working that he hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten. He hugged her back as he realized with all the thinking he had done, he had forgotten to think of dinner.

A frozen pizza would have to do.

It had been a few days since Michael had woken up in the padded room. Unknown to him. Posters of his face had been plastered across his neighborhood, as rumors of him never coming back and mutterings of “good riddance” traveled the streets.

He had been following Fredbear’s instructions for a few days. Despite the doors having been unlocked the first night. He had not been able to either find an exit or find his father. He quickly realized the windows were fake. And no matter how many times he hit the wall, he couldn’t find the door his father was using.

It didn’t help that he constantly felt as If he were being watched. Even during the day, and not only by Fredbear. It reminded him of that time he had gotten himself locked in a bathroom during a school trip. He had closed the door in a fit of rage, and broken the oxidized lock.

Eventually, after a few hours, one of the workers broke through the second-floor window and managed to unlock the door. At first, Michael had shouted, trashed, and kicked. But just like now, he had eventually given up. resigning himself to stay in the same spot, trying his best to ignore the problem.

His father had probably given up on him as well. The only sign of him ever being around was the strange-tasting food and water that he would leave his son when he was conveniently asleep.

Maybe he was having a nightmare? But unlike his siblings and friends. He would never know when he was dreaming. Maybe his teacher was right, and he had finally lost his mind after hitting his head one too many times. That or he had opened his head in two from hitting it too much and he was in hell.

He had expected more fire and constant torture. But maybe the quiet moments during what the clock told him was the day, were part of the suffering.

He had been unable to eat the food left by his father that day. Having vomited the previous day’s contents having left his throat burning from the stomach acid. Along with the anticipation of the next night's nightmares having finally left his appetite quenched out of stress more than anything else.

He had vomited after noticing some white powdery specs in his glass of water. His mind raced as it thought of all of the horrible things it could be. He calmed down after that, concluding that it had probably just been dust bunnies or something. But the thought had been persistent enough to remain even a day later.

He had been rather paranoid about what he ate after having contracted measles shortly after drinking from his sister’s cup on accident. And he had become paranoid much to his mother’s dismay. And even though he kept telling himself that the food he had been eating was probably fine.

The little voice in the back of his brain kept repeating it must have been stale.

He did not like wasting food. But there was no use in trying to convince his head to eat it. Eventually, he got up, feeling more tired than usual, but the usual floaty feeling that had remained in the back of his head had lifted. He felt fully awake.

A few minutes before midnight, not caring if the monsters would finally catch up to him. Michael stumbled his way around the perimeter of the room. The horrible orange wallpaper still had some marks that had been left by his shoes when he had tried to break free from it.

The wall was sparsely decorated by some photos from the family album, along with a rather bright painting her mother had bought at the store, its plaque reading “Lingering Dusk” 1983. It almost made up for the fact the windows were fake.

As Michael rounded the corner that led to the hallway containing what he had affectionately called “Plustrap”. He was stopped in his tracks as he saw an endoskeleton waiting for him just behind the corner. He stumbled backward, accidentally knocking the pendulum clock behind him off balance.

Its crash resounded as the animatronic seemed to stop just mere centimeters from Michael’s breath. The sound of breathing could be heard through the worn-out foxy mask it was wearing. After realizing it had probably suffered an error. Michael felt safe enough to study the Endo 01. model.

The breathing was coming from a cassette that had been installed in the back of its head. And some of its parts seemed to have been sharpened into points in comparison to the blunt ends of the things Michael had previously seen.

Before he could process completely what he was witnessing, another one showed up. A yellow endoskeleton with a Chica mask that was not faulty. Michael looked around quickly for a place to hide. Shoving himself full force into a hole in the wall that the clock had left behind after falling over.

A loud screech was heard on the other side of the wall. Then silence.

It was still pouring when Michael was finally found by two local policemen who had been patrolling the area doing nothing. One of them, Officer Bentley, had recognized the boy from the missing posters that had been plastered all over his street, much to the neighbor’s dismay, who didn’t like their lamppost dirty.

He had been somewhat delirious when they had found him, talking about clocks, food, and his father in incoherent sentences that only he seemed to understand. It didn’t help that instead of pausing to breathe he just kept going and going into detail. Eventually, the police officers gave up, as they simply put a coat over him and they drove towards his house.

The boy looked like shit. And Officer Bentley was pretty sure he had been doing drugs while away from home. Probably something hard from his incoherent speech pattern and the reddish-purple circles that surrounded his eyes. He was surprised the kid hadn’t fainted. Or worse, died from an overdose at such a young age.

He couldn’t even imagine his little girl doing something legal like cigarettes. Let alone whatever that twelve-year-old had done.

He simply looked from the sidelines as the kid was returned to his parents by his more experienced coworker. He had refused claiming he “didn’t want to give an earful to the parents who had let such a thing happen”.

The boy went to hug what seemed to be his younger sister. Only to be stopped by his father placing a hand on his shoulder. As his mother gave him an earful, he could hear her shouts even through the closed car windows.

Eventually, his patrol partner returned, and they drove away, seeing the missing posters dissolve to nothing with the rain.

Michael had returned home, only to be met with his mother’s rage over where he had been. During her shouts, he kept looking back at William. Waiting for him to clarify, only for his father to not even look at him. Simply restraining him as his mother continued to question him over where he had been during the whole week.

He attempted to explain. But every time he managed the courage to utter a word, it fell to the ground unheard. “What do you have to say for yourself?!” Eventually after what felt like an eternity of silence, they simply walked into the house. Eating lunch with nothing but chewing in the background.

After eating, he was simply instructed by his father to go to his room and think about what he had done. Which he did with no complaints. Mrs. Afton proceeded to help her daughter dress up for her best friend’s birthday later that day, still with no words uttered between them. Yet still, the woman returned her daughter’s hug without a second thought and wished her a good time.

She then sat once again on the sofa, looking towards her son’s room to make sure he was still inside. The window had been recently fixed, this time they had chosen a design that couldn’t be opened. Along with putting bars on the outside, just to be safe.

But despite all of her observations, Mrs. Afton had failed to notice the missing kitchen knife that her husband had picked up before leaving.

Chapter Text

Little Charlotte Emily could be easily identified among the crowd of children that had attended her special day celebration, thanks to the bright green bracelet her father had given only to her. Citing something about it being special compared to the rest of the children’s.

Just recently all of the many guests had arrived at the cheerfully decorated dinner. Had they not heard about the incident the previous Friday, or noticed the lack of the golden bear animatronic on stage. No one would have guessed that a tragedy had ever befallen the child-friendly dinner.

It truly felt like a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun came to life.

The little girl’s father couldn’t help but smile. Especially when he watched as his daughter and her special friend danced round and round. His business partner had answered his worries, without being asked. His remaining son had stayed behind. And he would never be allowed around those parts again.

He looked at his creation, which worked just as he had intended. It would keep track of the children as they played, but most important of all, it would keep track of his daughter as he did what had to be done. Its brilliant green eyes followed her wrist as If it were being conducted in an orchestra.

Despite it already being perfect in his eyes. He had already started to plan an update for the animatronic marionette. Making sure it would keep track of both children and predators. So that no more little souls would ever be stolen in front of his eyes.

Little Elizabeth felt rather proud when she finally managed to push the birthday present she had brought for Charlotte into the big pile for opening later. She couldn’t help but wonder what wonderful thing was lying inside the biggest present box she had ever seen. Maybe a car? Or a giant dollhouse? She couldn’t wait to see.

She failed to notice the bright green eyes staring back at her through the slightly opened lid. The Puppet inside felt betrayed when it couldn’t stand outside of its designated container as it had done some hours before. Regardless, little Elizabeth went about her way as Charlie and the other children started playing a game.

The simple game of truth and dare went along. As the kids failed to notice Elizabeth’s father sneaking up behind them, as he made his way towards his car parked outside. Charlie’s father had realized in the middle of getting ready to perform in a cheaply made Fredbear costume, that he had forgotten his child’s birthday present at home.

“Please, William! Do me a favor, just this time.” The man had pleaded as his uninterested business partner failed to be convinced. “You will find the present next to the entrance” his sad tone seemed to finally convince the unwilling man to do what he had asked “I will entertain the children to make time, but please hurry!”.

The rather unhappy man left the venue, muttering curses under his breath as his old automobile left the building behind. The rain that had been bombarding Hurricane that July failed to cease for even a moment as he pulled the lever to activate the windshields.

In the meantime, as the cake was being prepared by a half in costume Fredbear. Charlotte Emily had finally chosen “Dare”. Her friends giggled as they failed to think of something that could pose a challenge. Eventually, Elizabeth spoke up with a rather unusual smirk on her lips, as she made her request to her best friend.

“Standing up in the rain until the cake arrives.” Everyone nodded. And despite Charlie’s initial refusal over “catching a cold”. She eventually complied, sneaking her way by the many tired teenage employees as she made her triumphant exit onto the damp empty street.

She got bored rather quickly, but she persisted, not wanting to be made fun of for failing such a simple dare. Eventually, through the window, she caught a glimpse of a rather funky-looking Fredbear who held a plate of velvet cake in his paws. Her favorite.

With a smile on her face, almost being able to taste both freedom from the rain and the sweetness of her birthday cake, Charlie made her way once more towards the entrance door. Panicking slightly when she was unable to open it. She tried and tried, but alas, her fingers started to hurt so she gave up.

Instead, the little girl attempted to catch the attention of the people inside. Banging her little hands on the window she screamed for aid. But the music inside drowned out her screams and her friends had quickly become distracted by the tasty cake they had been served.

But then, the engine of a certain purple Plymouth was heard in the distance. Charlie ran towards the sound, hoping she would find an adult to help as tears of desperation to get inside started falling from her eyes. Her sobs momentarily stopped as she saw her dad’s friend come out of the driver's seat. But it quickly faltered when she saw what he had been carrying in his hand.

A knife.

Little Charlie Emily started to run, but her steps faltered and she fell to the ground, scraping her knees on the rough asphalt just outside of salvation. She begged and she asked for help. But nobody but her assailant could hear the little girl.

“I’m not afraid of you! My dad will come and save me” the little girl attempted, but her voice couldn’t help but quiver at the sight of the unblinking man who was slowly approaching her with a knife in his hands.

“He will-“ her voice faltered one last time as her chest was stabbed with a force that pinned her to the ground. Her father’s friend kept tinting his blade in her deep red blood, stabbing her over and over again, breaking flesh and bones. Not stopping until her chest had given up, exposing her no longer beating heart.

The light faded out of the little girl's eyes. The summer rainfall erased the blood of the crime that had just been committed. As she looked with a blurry vision towards a crawling figure tumbling towards her.

All the little girl could wish was for someone to help. She wished she could stop her fate from occurring to anyone else. But despite her birthday wish, she still died.

No one had heard Charlotte’s screams as she had been stabbed to death in the alleyway.

The big robot finally managed to push the birthday gifts to the side, as it rose once more from its confinement. It couldn’t feel relief, so in only a few seconds, it started once again the search it had been programmed to perform. The search for the bright green bracelet.

It looked and it looked. All the code could register was pink, blue, and mint. But it couldn’t find the special green. It had failed. It had failed, It had failed. It had not failed when it caught a glimpse in the sensors. And then again. It knew where it needed to go. What it needed to do.

So it broke its strings and it crawled unseen by the blue, mint, and pink children. And by the parents of the pink, mint, and blue bracelets. It crawled and it crawled. Being unable to register that it had gone outside. Unable to register that its circuits had begun to fail and to fry as the rainwater seeped through its cracks.

But it kept crawling. Until it found it. It had succeeded, it had accomplished it. And it had died. Broken in the same alleyway as the little girl it had meant to protect.

The weight of the short-circuiting Puppet animatronic crushed the already broken ribs of the most precious thing in the world. Completely oblivious to the sight it had witnessed.

Its creator had finally noticed its absence, and with it, a much more important lack of something. His daughter. He had given cake to all of the children. But his daughter had never taken a slice.

The gift he had asked William to retrieve was now lying next to the others in a pile beside the Puppet’s box. But the animatronic was nowhere to be found. Having toppled some of the birthday presents in its escape.

Henry, trying to stay calm, walked towards Elizabeth. Questioning her about her best friend's location, only to be mortified by the answer. “She went outside” the little girl confirmed with an apologetic look on her face. “But I thought she had come back” Her sadness was quickly replaced by worry when she made a terrible realization.

“Oh no! She missed her birthday cake!”. Elizabeth quickly started muttering sorry after sorry as Henry felt his world crash down. Not giving anyone an explanation, he rushed towards the dinner’s door. Ignoring William’s questioning or the other parent's glances of confusion.

The rain had dissolved Charlie’s blood by now, but instead, a trail of oil that shined with the colors of the rainbow led Henry to look around the corner. At first, all he could see in the rain was the Puppet's unmoving form, slumped between rubbish and trash cans.

But then he caught sight of a bright green bracelet buried beneath it all. The man stumbled towards the two of them, barely managing to separate the heavy animatronic from what he had realized was his daughter’s remains. He held his little girl in his arms, as he collapsed on his knees. Her still fresh blood staining his uniform as he caressed her hair.

“Hey darling… It’s your birthday…” he said with a weakened voice, as he continued to look at his daughter’s face, avoiding his urge to look at her chest. “Everyone’s waiting for you. You still need to open your presents.” He gulped as his voice became nothing but a whisper.

“I got you what you wanted, that bicycle, I almost forgot but… you still need to learn how to rid-“ He hugged her, as he broke down sobbing on her neck, still muttering incoherent sentences that he knew deep down his daughter couldn’t hear. “You missed your birthday cake silly… it was velvet, like you asked. You don’t even know what the ingredients are… You just like it for the color, right?” Of course, she didn’t respond.

The dead couldn’t respond. He knew she would never get to taste red velvet cake again. Because she was dead.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

No murder weapon, no witnesses, no suspects.

Despite the murder having taken place in plain daylight, no one had a single idea about what could have happened. No one that mattered, that is.

On the evening of Charlotte’s death, Michael had thought he had misremembered a rather insignificant detail. His father had two work uniforms, as was standard for Fredbear’s, the dayshift uniform was yellow, while the night shift uniform was purple.

He would have sworn on his crooked toes that when his father had left with Elizabeth that afternoon, he had been wearing his usual yellow uniform. But when he had looked through his keyhole that evening, he saw his father wearing the incorrect uniform.

At first, he had thought he had just misremembered, just like he had mixed nightmares and reality during “his midnight escapade” as his father mockingly called his disappearance from last week. But he never saw that yellow uniform ever again. And he never mustered the courage to ask his father about it.

During the first week of his summer confinement, he noticed another unusual detail. His father was a rather clean man, his hair perfectly brushed out of his face, his facial hair kept under strict control and his shirt collar always perfectly positioned (unlike Michael). But his nails that week were dirty.

On the surface they were clean, but just under the fingernails, Michael had caught glimpses of brown stains that seemed to refuse to let go of his father’s flesh. Clinging to his skin like some kind of curse to break his clean exterior. It didn’t help that Michael had seen that substance many times before in his nails and outside of them.

It was blood.

Another thing he knew rather well about blood was its taste.

He had once again blamed it on his broken senses, just like he had in his nightmares. But the food had recently tasted rather Iron-like. Just the slightest bit funny compared to the usual. The frozen chicken had tasted rather fresh and inlay-like. And he would have sworn that the beans had been cooked with black pudding. And yet no meat had been added to them due to his mother’s diet.

Unknowingly, his mother had been cooking with her husband’s badly cleaned murder weapon. Still stained with his sins, just like his nails.

Michael had not been invited to Charlotte Emily’s funeral. His punishment of confinement had been lifted, but Henry Emily had made an explicit request for him not to be there. And his family hadn’t complained.

So instead, he took advantage of his recently found freedom. He resolved to take a walk through the woods surrounding Hurricane’s suburbia. Even after the lift of his punishment, he had barely stepped out of his bedroom. Which had become rather stuffy after having been deprived of a functional window that would let air inside.

The boy wondered, checking the watch on his wrist every few minutes to make sure he would be back home before his family arrived. And after a few pine trees, he found himself in his brother’s tomb. The one his father had bribed his way into getting built on their property.

Gregory had not always been afraid of Fredbear’s Family Dinner. As usual, the start of his fear had been his older brother’s fault.

Michael had already been too old to celebrate his birthday, at Fredbear’s or at all. At least according to his group of friends. But a couple of years prior, on the celebration of his tenth birthday, he had caused the start of his little brother’s phobia for animatronics. In a spark of utter brilliance and stupidity, he had gotten the idea to quite literally, play with fire.

More specifically, an incandescent lightbulb that had been left in disrepair by his father. Who had never gotten around to repairing it or at least hiding it. He and his friends had been playing around with it, making it burn plastic cups and paper plates as it melted through them. Completely oblivious to the hazardous vapors that their little “experiment" was causing.

Everything had been going well as far as burning his parents' property was concerned. Until his father’s screams broke through the child’s skull, startling him and making the scared troublemaker jump in fear, accidentally throwing the still-burning light bulb in the air.

“Michael! Can you come backstage?” Michael quickly got himself together, knowing that when his father asked a question, it was more an order, not bothering to check where the object he shouldn’t have been playing with had gone.

Something he quickly regretted as before he could make it to the backstage door, the smell of burning wool hit his nose. Finally his sister’s shouts of “FIRE!!!” made his head turn, seeing a burning Fredbear and a scared Gregory a few meters in front of it. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his favorite character burn aflame.

Thankfully, before the whole restaurant went aflame, Henry Emily had gotten hold of the only fire extinguisher in the building. Finishing the fire then and there as he looked around to see If anyone had gotten hurt. But thankfully, nothing but Gregory’s hopes and dreams had been shattered.

Of course, after that, Fredbear had been repaired. But nothing was ever the same for his little brother.

Dark thoughts flooded his brain, as he wondered whether it would have been better for his brother to have died in that fire, rather than finishing his road in life by his hands. He would have died young anyway. But at least Michael would have had an excuse to argue it had been an accident.

But he knew deep down it hadn’t been. In the end, he was just as bad as everyone said he was.

After another glance at his brother’s final resting place. He looked at his watch and resolved to return to the home in which he didn’t know more than one child murderer lived.

Chapter Text

The sudden closure of the fridge's door that morning resounded over all of the Afton household.

A startled Michael looked around, hoping he hadn’t woken up anyone, before opening the fridge once more as a look of horror filled his face. A mangled dog carcass was staining the top fridge compartment, its blood frozen over. It had a missing eye, but the most startling thing was that most of its torso and legs had become nothing but a mess of entrails and insides that no amount of anatomy knowledge could decipher.

Michael screamed, not caring much about waking up anyone else anymore. Closing the door in a hurry he instinctively got away from the corpse filling the space that was only meant for eggs and milk. Any amount of joy or hunger for breakfast instantly evaporated.

His hunger quickly turned into fear when he heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs that could only belong to his father. William looked at his son with a look of disappointment, not having wanted to see him or wake up that early. Michael had been having nightmares lately, and much to his family’s annoyance, he would occasionally wake up screaming from them.

They had tried giving him sleeping pills to shut him up. But nothing seemed to work.

His father was now staring at him. Waiting for an explanation for the early wake-up call. Michael simply gestured towards the fridge, opening the door as he swiveled his hand around the very dead golden cocker spaniel that was in their fridge, as a look of realization hit his father’s face.

All kinds of wild accusations ran through Michael’s mind, as he settled on just accusingly pointing a finger at his father while questioning “You killed it? Did you kill it? What the fuck is it doing here? Wh-“

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” His father cut him off. Michael quickly shut his mouth, as he waited for his father to continue. Any amount of confrontational attitude was quickly squashed by his father putting his foot down. He simply waited a bit, as the silence was filled with the warning beeps of the defrosting appliance.

“While it is none of your business, yesterday I had an accident and ran over some stupid child’s dog. Today’s parents should know better than to leave one of those terrible beasts on the loose with no kind of restraint.” His father finally closed the complaining fridge, and before Michael could question him about the roadkill’s location, he quickly shut him off with a smirk.

“Not like you have ever cared about life before anyways, so why now Michael?” Before the teenager could attempt a defense, his father started shouting at him “WHY THE FUCK NOW? YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A SON?!?” WHY NOT BEFORE HAVING KILLED YOUR SISTER’S RAT?! OR MY SON?!”

Properly scared into not thinking, Michael quickly ran to his room. As his father continued to shout “AND DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE GET OUT OF THERE! YOU ANIMAL!” and he stayed there until the shouts subsided as his father finally left the house.

Awakened by the shouts, his mum and sister finally went to have breakfast, but unlike Michael, when they opened the fridge, all they found was the milk Elizabeth needed to complete her sugar-filled cereal breakfast, much to her mother’s disapproval of such a diet.

Joking that it would be the death of her.

Once again no one other than her brother had arrived at Cassidy’s birthday party. Not even bribing her classmates with free food had worked. Neither had her parents' insistence on other grown-ups. Cassidy would have to spend her 8th birthday alone, just like last year.

That was a bit of a lie, her big dumb brother had come. But she had still not forgiven him after what he had done. So she resorted to simply frowning as she ate her cold and sad pepperoni pizza, the two silently agreeing not to talk to each other.

Once she finished her slices of cheap pizza that only toddlers could tolerate, she took her birthday money in hand, ready to spend it all on playing her favorite arcade game “Space Invaders”. Nothing was as satisfying as ending the lives of aliens. At least to Cassidy.

Still, like any other girl, or let’s just face it, any other child, gossip was a pretty close second on the satisfaction scale. As her little ears caught the frequency of a sibling bickering session. One of them even had the same name as her big brother.

“Shut up Jeremy!” The little Susan Bentley cried, trying her best to keep her eyes set on her racing car controls. “He would never clean the streets! Poor Gizmo! Take that back” This time she did take her eyes off the arcade cabinet’s screen, earning a smirk from her slightly older brother, as he proceeded to take the lead in the racing game.

“But he is a mop, anyone with eyes can see it! Well, I guess with all of those hairs in his eyes, he can’t either!” The boy laughed alone, thinking of his “clever” remark as very funny. Unintentionally losing the lead and earning a “GAME OVER!” when his car inevitably crashed against one of the circuit’s boundaries of the newly released “Midnight Motorist”.

His groan of disappointment was immediately ignored by his sister, who proceeded to ignore her win, to keep arguing with him.

“You KNOW he is a puppy, and he can see just fine! The vet told me and Mom since you weren’t there!” Jeremy rolled his eyes as he inserted another token into the arcade, ready to get his revenge on little Susie. “Oh come on, He can’t see two shits in front of him! No wonder he got lost!” His little sister couldn’t help but gasp at her brother saying a bad word.

“How could you say that? I’ll tell Mom when she comes back from looking for him. Just you wait! Her threat to tattletale immediately worked, as his brother quickly shut his trash mouth in fear of their mother following on her threat of washing their mouths with soap If they ever said a bad word.

“Maybe he got lost because he doesn’t like you”. Cassidy’s comment quickly cut through the siblings like a knife. Little Susie rushed to defend herself and her love for Gizmo. But Cassidy cut her off “I bet it was your fault!” she smirked, seeing the other girl's defiance shatter as tears started to fall.

“No, I… I didn’t think he would run away” The little girl started to hiccup, as her voice got higher and higher. “It’s just, the harness looked so uncomfortable on him, I-“ She kept trying to explain herself, but her babbling became unbearable. After a simple “I hate you!” retort towards Cassidy, the blonde girl took off, losing her brother as she ran between arcade cabinets, losing track of where she was as tears continued to fall from her eyes.

She kept sniffling, settling on trying to play her favorite game “Fruity Mace” by herself. She attempted to see the sprites through blurry eyes filled with water. It had been her favorite game since she had noticed the resemblance between her cute puppy Gizmo and one of the side characters. But at the moment all it reminded her of was his absence.

Despite her terrible attempt at trying to hide the fact she had been crying, someone had managed to overhear her mumbling. At first, the little girl jumped, startled, but she quickly calmed down when she saw it was just Spring Bonnie. She filled her sweater with snot and tears, trying to clean her face to look presentable. But the yellow rabbit still noticed.

A gentle hand took a tight but comforting hold of her shoulders, as a squeaky voice asked in an exaggerated tone “What happened? Why are you so sad? You should be having fun!”. But instead of smiling, all Susie did was cry harder, as she finally managed to answer. “My puppy Gizmo! is gone! Mom said she would find him, but Dad told me he is dead.”

William took a bit of a gamble, in the character’s voice he asked: “Was your puppy yellow? Just like lil’ old me?” He gestured with his hands, as the girl nodded, her face still stained but her breathing having calmed down. Sadly, she was unable to see the smile that had formed on the lips of the man behind the costume.

“Oh! Don’t worry, your dad is just a worrywart! Gizmo is not dead! He is over here!” The little girl’s eyes lit up as she started looking all around her as If she were waiting for Gizmo to come out of a hiding spot, like in one of those silly kids' flicks. But he didn’t. At the tilt of her head, who she believed was Spring Bonnie grabbed her hand.

“He is over here!” he gestured towards the employees-only room. Yanking the little girl behind him from her sleeve. “Follow me!” He finally let go. Smirking once more behind the bunny mask as the little girl started to trail behind him of her own accord.

Fitzgerald had finally reached Fruity Maze, finally locating what his sister had said in passing was her favorite game. But just like all of the other spots before it, he found it empty.

A machiavellian grin plastered itself onto Cassidy’s face. But it was quickly squandered by her own Jeremy showing up to see what the fuss was about. By the time he had reached them, little Jeremy had already run off looking for his sister.

But still, that did not save Cassidy from a hypocritical lecture, as her brother pointed his finger up and down her as he talked. Cassidy would have liked to pretend to care, but it truly just went right into her left ear and out of her right ear. She continued to judgmentally stare back at her older brother.

“You see Cassidy I just-“ he sighed, moving his palms together as he finally attempted to look at his sister in the face and not through her. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did when I was younger-“ The little girl cut her brother off, making a scene as other children and parents started staring at the two of them.

“SHUT UP! It was only two freaking years ago, you are just 6 years older than me!” Little Cassidy approached her brother, a look of determination on her face. The boy tried to stand his ground, only for the little girl to start kicking his ankle with the sharp point of her shoe while shouting.

“You killed my best friend! You and your asshole friends!!!” Eventually, Fitzgerald had to get away from his sister to get his leg back to safety, only for her to run off again, leaving him and his slight limp behind as he cursed behind her. Feeling defeated when the disappointed parents around them shook their heads and went on their business like nothing had happened.

Cassidy’s brother retreated to their table, failing to notice the figure of the yellow rabbit that had Susie’s brother following right behind him. Showing him the way while muttering promises of “your scared little sister waiting for you”. As they moved through the more shadowy parts of the already stain-filled pizzeria, where the grime from the windows didn’t let the line shine through.

He wondered for a bit, as he heard what he assumed was a hammer hit wood If they were doing constructions at such an hour. Making up his mind that they must have after witnessing a poor chair collapse on itself spontaneously, from what seemed to be barely stable broken legs that had finally given out.

In another room, little Jeremy had not even had a chance to shout, as the hammer broke through his teeth from behind. It lowered itself onto his head, over and over and over again. As it struck flesh and bone. Breaking the front of his cranium in the process. He was barely conscious enough to register in his final breath his sister’s corpse.

Her neck was cut from side to side, red liquid falling from it like a perverse waterfall. Making it look like she had been wearing a red turtleneck beneath her rose-colored dress. He tried to ask for her, but instead of managing to utter a word, he simply choked on his blood, gasping for air like that one time he had swallowed a chicken bone on accident.

But this time, the adult standing behind him didn’t pat the boy on his back or help him breathe through the obstruction. He instead pressed hard on his throat with plush hands that didn’t feel soft. Suffocating the boy in the air, until all that remained in his lungs was nothing but his blood.

And so the two siblings meet their fate.

Cassidy had arrived at the far corner of the restaurant, where the one animatronic attraction of The Pirate Fox Foxy held the corner all for himself. But the curtains were closed, as his show was not programmed to start for another 3 minutes.

She watched as a tall ginger boy dragged an unwilling participant towards Pirates Cove’s curtains. His friend dragged his feet lazily in a not-very-determined attempt to stop the other child from drawing him around. Eventually, the both of them sat next to Cassidy, ignoring her as they started to bicker. “But Fritz! I wanna go see the band! I have been practicing their songs for the recital this evening.

Fritz simply continued bobbing up and down with anticipation as he simply responded: “But they are so boring, they only play old boring songs my mom listens to!” The boy moved his mouth dramatically, trying to emphasize how much he didn’t care for the restaurant's classic animatronic ensemble. “This guy is so much cooler!”

Little Gabriel, appalled by what he believed was his best friend’s terrible taste, continued to make his case. “But he always tells the same five stories! At least you can tune out the music!” To which a confused Fritz replied “Well! It’s not My fault you can’t do that with Foxy’s stories!” And so, the yelling continued as the argument descended into nonsense.

Cassidy simply observed amused, deciding that what she was witnessing was much more entertaining than whatever basic pirate tale Foxy could come up with. It was like those shows her grandma would watch on the telly, where she couldn’t understand what was being talked about, but felt invested in any way due to the people’s emotions.

But the jockey's bitebacks eventually turned into a messy play brawl. The two friends spun as they laughed and tried to tackle each other, only to crash face-first into Pirate Cove’s curtains. Cassidy flinched at the loud clash that the two hooligans created. Choosing to quickly duck under a table when she heard heavy footsteps.

Spring Bonnie had arrived, looking at the two entangled friends who had managed to rip through the Foxy animatronic's soft exoskeleton. It having deep rips and tears throughout its chest and leg areas. The reckless boys lay on top of the now-fallen animatronic fox. Seeming just as confused as the robotic entertainer.

Then it removed its head, making Cassidy gasp from under the table. Revealing an angry and exasperated-looking man underneath. The children became quickly frightened, as they assumed they were in deep trouble. But the frown in William’s face quickly turned upside down. Making everyone but Cassidy feel at ease in the room.

“Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry! Little Foxy needed a few upgrades anyways.” The man waved his hand, yet the boys remained scared, trying to blend into the wall behind them unsuccessfully. Gabriel had hidden himself in a shadowy corner behind Fritz, as the lanky boy simply trembled against the wall. Unable to contain his obvious nervousness.

“Say, why don’t you two accompany me to fix him up? Then you two can finally watch the show!” His gaze darkened as his smile grew wider. “And nobody needs to find out about what happened here.” The first to nod was surprisingly Gabriel, who seemed particularly frightened by the thought of his parents finding out he misbehaved. He took the hand of the suit-wearing man as he led him to parts and service.

Fritz followed a bit behind. Seemingly ashamed of his actions, he looked at his shoes. He was dragged this time by his friend Gabriel, as they left with the man whom Cassidy could now see behind the suit was clad in purple.

Chapter Text

It had already gotten late, and the pizzeria was about to close its doors for the evening. Jeremy Fitzgerald had finally decided that it was time to start looking for his little sister. No matter how mad she was or how many times she would kick him when he dragged her home.

First, he looked around the main dining hall, seeing If she had hidden herself under the tables out of spite. But as far as he could tell, she wasn’t there. He looked towards the stage curtains behind the animatronic band that had stopped singing a few hours ago, but what he assumed was a technician shoed him away.

He continued to look through the private party rooms, as his mind wandered back to memories of a time that in his point of view was a long time ago. But in fact, it had only been two years. Every time he looked back at his past self he couldn’t help but cringe and grimace a little. He hadn’t thought he had changed that much during the two summers, but apparently, he had.

Despite all of his mother’s talk about kindness, it seemed nothing had seeped into his dumb prepubescent brain. He would occasionally just remember the hazings and bullying he participated in and thought “That was pretty fucked up”. But as his English teacher would say when they weren’t doing anything and went on one of his ramblings “The past is in the past and all we have left are the shackles and the weight of it in our backs, the only way to continue is forward.” Or something along those lines.

It simply wasn’t as easy to convince young Cassidy of leaving things in the past, she would quietly hold grudges only to remind him whenever he had forgotten. But Jeremy never really tried to defend himself. While he hadn’t been the one to put her friend in Fredbear’s mouth, he was smart enough to know he was still responsible for enabling that kid's suffering, even participating sometimes. And while he hadn’t forgiven himself for it, he had still tried to become a better person in the subsequent years.

But still, it stung a bit to be reminded of how much of a dick he used to be.

Putting his feelings aside, Jeremy continued to look through the bathrooms, debating whether it was worth it to walk into the girl’s bathroom to look for her. Failing to hear the blood-curdling scream from the other side of the building.

Cassidy eventually got out from under the table, following behind Fritz with curiosity, as she tried to not get spotted by the man in purple. But she had gotten lost, accidentally losing track of them as she got lost in what she saw as a maze of party rooms. She eventually reached one with an untouched vanilla birthday cake and a curtain at the back.

She looked around, and finding herself alone, she took a small piece with her hand. Her parents had chosen against getting her a party room that year, seeing it as a waste after her 7th birthday fiasco. They hadn’t budged even when she had begged for them to still try. But it had been no different.

A yellow hand reached out from behind the curtains, beckoning the child to take a peek inside. Once again, and a little bit less scared, curiosity took hold of Cassidy’s mind. She took a peak through the curtains, but instead of any sight she might have expected the little girl became horrified. Trying and failing to hold the scream of terror that erupted from her mouth.

Then, once again the friendly mascot mask hiding his features, William Afton came from behind the curtains, failing to grab the little girl as she quickly ducked, running past him and into the back of the restaurant. Fritz’s corpse was sat in a small wooden chair, his left eye filled with blood from a screwdriver that had been impaired through his head, a birthday hat hastily put in his head and filled with blood atop his head.

She hid behind him, trying to become invisible in the shadows as she caught the sight of a blue-looking Gabriel behind him, his skin had gone blue and pale and it looked like his neck had collapsed onto his chest, and unlike Fritz, his eyes were open and almost bulging out of his skull. Cassidy tried to control her breathing. Eventually, the man pretending to be a yellow rabbit left his position at the door, opting to seemingly wander out once again.

Little Cassidy left her position of safety, attempting not to gag at the gnarly sight not meant for people her age. Or anyone for that matter. Making her way as quietly as possible towards the curtains that would lead her to salvation.

Only to get the back of her neck grabbed when she peeked her head out to see If everything was clear. A scream died in her throat when air failed to pass. Spit fell from her mouth as she was roughly dragged back into the curtains, managing to catch a glimpse of her brother’s hair before being pulled back into what could only be described as hell on earth.

She clawed at the floor trying to stay in place, only for her nails to break as small streams of blood started to pour from them. The little girl became dizzy as her vision started to blur.

Only catching the blurry silhouette of the Bentley siblings through tear-ridden eyes.

Her consciousness slipped out due to the lack of air, her vision going black, only to be awakened by a world of pain, as what could only be described in retrospect as an animatronic masquerading as an iron maiden. The spring locks holding the suit together letting loose, fulfilling their function of returning the suit to its robotic configuration and stabbing poor Cassidy to death.

This time making sure she would awaken nevermore.

It was nearing 11 p.m. and Jeremy Fitzgerald still couldn’t find his sister.

The staff had tried to kick him out, but he had refused, eventually even informing the owners that his sister had still not come back. Everyone at the no-longer-closing location was now searching for her, but nobody was able to locate her. Eventually, their parents were called. They joined the search after scolding their eldest for losing track of her.

No one noticed the translucent stream of sweat falling from the co-owner’s face as they reached the backrooms. The man tried, with one of his best smiles, to simply wave the backstage area off claiming “Children aren’t allowed in there anyways, only staff members have the key”.

But even before the police could dispute him, Jeremy barged through the door. Not caring for whatever any adults shouted at him as he made his way past the businessman and into the door marked as “employees only”.

At first, he couldn’t see anything, other than the curtains and the animatronics that had been deactivated earlier that evening, Getting thrown in the back for their usual maintenance and cleaning rounds. But his shoes started to drag and stick to the floor, making him look downwards to see his sneakers filled with what could only be blood.

The boy stumbled as he held himself towards a wall, screaming curses as he tried to get away from what he could see was criminal evidence. Alerted by his shouting, the other adults that were hovering around the door finally went in, the other owner, Henry Emily, flicking a switch to illuminate the undecorated rooms.

Some gasped, others covered their mouths or looked away entirely. And behind everyone, William smiled. A miracle. A sign of god perhaps? Yes, the blood was there, but just like magic, the children’s corpses had vanished, leaving behind no evidence other than the blood he had spilled. And well, of course, what he had collected from them.

He quickly hid it away, beginning to mimic everyone around him, channeling his actual shock at the evidence of his crime being gone into appearing as genuinely surprised at the murder as possible.

In a corner, an elongated figure was sitting, unmoving and observing all of the guests that had come inside to witness its work. Cut strings were falling off of their limbs and its hollow eyes and mouth failed to betray their hidden hatred for the man standing in the doorway.

But everyone was too late. It had already given the children their gifts and there was nothing they could do about it. It was not perfect, but it had mended and given back what the purple man had stolen from them that day.
Eventually, who was once her father noticed it. And despite not knowing what was inside of his creation, he excused himself, picked the gigantic marionette up, and carried it gently back to its box. Closing the lid as “Pop Goes the Weasel” played once more.

Jeremy looked back with curiosity, feeling as If those unmoving eyes were looking through him, straight at his soul. But he quickly got rid of the feeling, trying to rationalize it as being paranoid after witnessing a floor full of blood.

Eventually, everyone (except for the police who more forcefully and less politely refused rot leave when the co-owner William Afton went to close the restaurant) left. The ride back home with his parents was filled with sense. As If they were already mourning the loss of Cassidy before the news got broken to them. The night sky was a deep shade of funeral black that night, the moon unseen and refusing to illuminate the grim occurrence of that day.

That sleepless night he swore he would get to the bottom of what Fazbear Entertainment was hiding on its entrails.

The next day Michael awoke early in the morning, a loud bark confusing him in his light sleep.

His sleep quality had been significantly lowered after his runaway “trip”. Making him sleep with one eye open ever since he had killed his brother. Afraid that the monsters he had witnessed during that week would find their way to him once again in his sleep.

Maybe it was his little brother’s way of getting back at him from beyond the veil of reality. Or maybe he was simply paranoid. Even after two years of them being revealed to just be nightmares.

A second bark and a cautionary pinch on his cheek alerted him that he was indeed awake. So discarding the possibility of it being a false awakening, Michael tried to sleep again. But the barks continued. And they sounded way too loud for the dog to not be close to the house.

Eventually, Michael got the will to try and get up. He failed immediately as his leg cramped, making him fall in pain as he failed to stand up. Hitting his head on his chair’s leg. His mum had told him that it was due to his refusal to drink water, but he believed it was simply the universe's way of making him pay for being a bastard.

Superficially bruised and slightly pissed off, Michael made his way down the stairs, ready to give either the dog or the owner an earful for waking him up, getting a hold of a rolling pin on his way through the kitchen, just in case it was an intruder. A dumb intruder who for some reason had brought their dog with them.

He followed the now constant barks, the sound leading him towards the basement door. Which was slightly ajar and unlocked. Something his father never forgot. Now fully convinced he was dealing with an intruder, Michael readied his rolling pin as If it were a bat, and got ready for a confrontation.

His muscles tensed as he went down the stairs, his knuckles white from gripping the pin and safety rail too tightly. Despite that, a crooked wooden floor made him lose his footing on his slightly limping leg, making him fall rolling to the bottom of the stairs, miraculously he only got a few bruises and a bleeding tongue that he had bit too strongly.

As the ringing in his ears dissipated, his vision adjusted enough to see what he believed was his father looking at him with a baseball bat in his hands, but before they could exchange words, a loud bark interrupted their stare-off, as something launched itself towards William. Sending the middle-aged man towards the floor.

Michael quickly got up, searching for whatever had attacked his father in the low visibility of the bunker-like structure. The boy was starting to get paranoid, jumping at every sound and moving shadow. Eventually, he got a hold of his target and charged at it with the rolling pin fast and with enough force to dent the metal table below it.

He kept at it, banging until the noises stopped, and trying his hardest to not pay attention to the liquid splatters covering his face. Even after the thing was dead he kept at it, only stopping when his father shouted for him to “Watch Out!” only for him to start laughing when Michael stopped to swing at nothing with the rolling pin.

The father continued to snicker at his son's misery as he made his way towards the basement light switch. Illuminating Michael’s mind on what he had just killed. On his father’s measuring table lay a deformed and half-rotten puppy, one of its eyes missing, and what little remained of its golden fur stained with red and purple.

“Gizmo” could be read in its blue colored collar.

The teenager remained still, looking at what could only be described as “dead puppy puré”. Slightly horrified at both the sight and the smell. His face and shirt were still stained with red, brown, and purple splatters of whatever had been inside that decomposing thing other than maggots.

He noticed his father’s hand on his shoulder but refused to move. Not daring to look him in the eyes as they both stared at the dog’s carcass. Eventually, William whispered in his ear: “What is seen in shadows is easily misunderstood in the mind of a child”.

He then left, only to come back with cleaning supplies. Michael understood without words exchanged that he needed to clean the mess he had created.

An overwhelming feeling took hold of Jeremy that night. His vision was partially blocked by what he could only guess was his old Freddy Fazbear mask. The one he used to wear when he would help his best friend bully his brother. A guilty feeling made its home in his stomach.

He was staring at a dark large dining hall. Similar to that of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. But larger and darker. He tried to move his head, but instead of a fluid motion, his neck moved as If it were a camera on rails. He saw an unmoving Chica and Bonnie there, and something he couldn’t quite make out in the darkness, slowly moving towards them.

He tried to leave, but he couldn’t move. It was as If his feet had been bolted to the wooden stage floor. Impeding his escape.

As the figure got closer, its silhouette becoming clearer in the dark, Jeremy managed to recognize it as the puppet animatronic he had caught a glimpse of in the crime scene. But it was moving strangely. Its motion was more akin to that of a child playing with a stuffed animal rather than a marionette on strings.

Jeremy tried to scream for it to get away. But it kept getting closer, so much so that it was now staring through the eye holes in his mask. As If judging him for what he had done. And closer, filling his vision.

And so, the nightmare began.

Chapter Text

It was surprising how easily people would forget things. For those with a bad memory, it was simply natural to quickly forget both the bad and the good. But maybe everyone agreed that simply remembering two tragedies at once was too much for the human mind.

By the time Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza had closed, due to the tragic disappearances of the children within its walls, Hurricane seemed to have already forgotten the previous tragedy committed only a couple of years before. The death of one quickly buried under the weight of five new empty coffins. As If it had never happened to begin with.

Even in the household of what had once been one of Hurricane’s most awful tragedies, it was as If it had never happened. The father had continued his business, focusing on work even after falling out with his business partner, due to “baseless accusations” and “growing distrust”.

The mother had chosen to drown herself in the basic household duties her parents had programmed her to perform since childhood, sometimes in such a mechanical way anything in her path would make her change her action, such as a fork out of place or a child where it shouldn’t be. Later during the day, the woman would retreat to the armchair that had been designated to her, and watch the television, not paying attention to those who would choose to sit beside her and accompany her silence.

Elizabeth, unlike her mom, had continued to smile. Tough if you were to pay close attention at the odd hours of the night. You would hear whimpers and tissue papers, as the little girl tried to stay as quiet as possible during the weaknesses of her facade during the night. Desperately trying to cling to cheerful thoughts, but instead being drowned by uncertainty and impotency.

She would rather not think of her brother, both of them having silently agreed years ago to avoid any direct interaction, even if for different reasons. The now-only brother of the Afton household had become rather paranoid, even more so after the incident with the dog.

His paranoia over his perception of reality had only grown, as he started to mistrust everyone, from the thought that he was dreaming and his mother would make him eat dog meat to thinking that his sister wasn’t his sister but rather a clone made by his father to make sure he wasn’t misbehaving.

Due to this, his nightmares rather than improving had only gotten worse, now featuring mouths in stomachs and disassembled animatronic chimeras that wanted to eat him. Meaning that his constant unrest and early morning screams had started to replace his various family member’s clockwork alarms.

The night before her birthday Elizabeth hugged her PlushBaby toy in anticipation, her pink toy foxy having been easily replaced by the character she idolized. She waited patiently in bed, for either of her parents to come into the room and kiss her goodnight. But nobody came. Her dad’s footsteps were never heard and her mother never got up from her armchair in the living room.

She gave up, getting up to click her lamp off and rapidly running back to her bed to avoid any monsters that might have been hiding underneath. Tucked messily under her undone covers, she waited once more, maybe for one of her parents to notice her light was off, but once more, nobody came.

Except that would be a lie, her brother did notice, walking through the hall and looking from side to side while holding something in his hand, as If he were searching for a rat to exterminate. Elizabeth chose to ignore him, at first closing her eyes to fake sleep, but quickly falling into deep darkness.

The next day was a special day after all, it was her birthday.

She had invited everyone she knew, her classmates, her distant cousins (who couldn’t make it from England but had sent her birthday cards through the mail), and the neighborhood kids.

“I want a divorce.”

The kitchen fell into silence, William simply looked at his wife, a look of indifference on his face as he continued to sip his coffee. Elizabeth dropped her spoon, splashing the table slightly with her cereal milk, mouth agape. Michael managed to hold onto his eating utensils, but his mouth still hung open, jelly falling from his toast as he failed to process what his mother had told him.

The head of the family continued to ignore the conversation as his wife continued to try and explain her reasons for asking for such a thing. She wasn’t exactly calm, but her voice sounded tired and her eyes looked defeated. And every few sentences she would sigh and look at either of her remaining children.

William still not responding eventually left, not saying a word or replying to his now crying wife. Leaving his children behind with bewildered expressions. Elizabeth eventually continued to eat her cereal. And Michael decided to go back to his room without a word, leaving his breakfast unfinished. His toast went cold and eventually had to be thrown into the trash by his still teary-eyed mother.

Elizabeth stayed in the kitchen, drawing different things on a piece of paper as she swung her little legs from her seat. Having diverted her attention into drawing pleasant scenes full of flowers, cupcakes, and clowns. A particularly large girl clown took center stage, her blue eyes and badly filled-in red hair being rather similar to something her father had been working on lately. She had become rather enamored with the character, her love for frills and television clowns leading her to love the strange-looking entertainer.

Having calmed down after the announcement, Mrs. Afton sat beside her little girl, complimenting the drawing and asking whether she wanted to hang her “masterpiece” on the fridge or not. After Elizabeth's affirmative “Yes! Yes Mum! Isn’t she so pretty” the tired woman simply nodded, washing her stained face with her dress sleeve while she hung it with a magnet.

The little girl continued to talk and talk, now mostly focused on her upcoming birthday party later that day, which would occur during the opening of her father’s new restaurant. It was completely his, he had told her.

But Elizabeth did not particularly care about her mother’s concerns about "the die force”. All her one-track mind could think about was ball pits, chocolate cake, her favorite friends, and what she was sure would be her new favorite place “Circus Baby’s Pizza World”.

And of course her birthday presents! She had asked for so many things ever since Christmas had left that she had forgotten about half of them by now. But she didn’t particularly care, it could be a rock for all she cared as long as she got to unwrap cotton candy-colored boxes closed with glittery lace. Besides, she was yet to be disappointed by a present, something her classmates were envious of.

But the one thing that, much to her dad’s dismay she was ecstatic about, was Circus Baby and all of the futuristic entertainer’s amazing features. From unlimited ice cream to free balloons in little Elizabeth’s mind, it seemed like the robot could do anything and more. But her dad had told her multiple times to drop it or forget about it. Making it very clear she wasn’t to get close to her.

It didn’t matter If she shouted, cried, or pouted. He would always say “No.” Even when she promised she would be careful not to break her.

Everyone had a function to fill in Elizabeth’s special day. Everyone but her brother had been tasked in his mother’s words with “keeping the house safe” and “giving candy to the trick-or-treaters of the neighborhood. Michael was still facing the punishment from the last time he had run away a few years ago, but he didn’t particularly care. Not like anyone would have invited him to a party after what he had done.

Bored out of his mind, the teenager chose to focus his attention on what he would wear to scare the neighborhood kids. He abandoned the soap opera reruns of the last season of “The Immortal & The Restless” to go look at whatever he could put together with what he had in his wardrobe. Hoping that at least something would fit.

His old foxy mask, now slightly beaten by being banged around in the wardrobe’s cupboard, greeted him once again. Even If it was silly of him, and he didn’t believe in such things as hauntings like those of R.L.Stine’s “The Haunted Mask” he would rather not relive any memories of his past self’s terrible actions. So he tossed the thing in the corner and continued looking for something.

The idea of dressing up as Vlad briefly made him happy, but he ultimately abandoned it, since children wouldn’t be scared of such a cartoony and melodramatic character. Ideas of dressing up as Jason from Friday the 13th and newer movie villains like Freddy Krueger and Herbert West crossed his mind. But he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to pull off a convincing costume in a week, much less a day.

He didn’t want to do something as cheap as a paper towel mummy or cut sheet ghost. So he resigned himself to looking through Halloween costumes past to find something that would be usable. He chose against dressing up as some kind of “Something Wicked This Way Comes” circus freak since he had tried to do that last year but his father had forbidden him from it, saying it would “bring bad publicity to his future business”.

So just in case Michael decided that avoiding his father’s hypothetical anger If one of the neighbors told him would be the safe option. That left him with a pretty uncomfortable and unbeatable latex mask that desperately tried its best to look like a zombie. It was at least somewhat better than a plastic bag. So with an entire afternoon to spare he decided to make a few modifications.

He armed himself with a lighter and a precision cutter he had sneaked past his parents when they weren’t paying attention to his purchases in the office supply store. And walked to the kitchen to create something beautiful. Beautiful to him that is.

He got some of the red food coloring that they had not used since that birthday years ago when the deceased Charlotte Emily had celebrated in the Afton household. It was probably spoiled by now, seeing as no one they knew other than her loved velvet cake that much. At least not enough to ask it for every single one of their birthdays.

He took the dye, figuring that no one would miss its absence, and poured it into a bowl, then he proceeded to take a cheap chocolate bar, putting it in the microwave until it melted. Then he mixed the two, making a red goopy concoction, and poured it hot onto the mask. Then he proceeded to rather unsafely burn the latex with his lighter to scar it, not even bothering to open up the windows. Scarring the material or unevenly closing the openings created by the knife.

He had achieved perfection. A messy hairstyle here, a few worn-out clothes there, a bit of liquid red dye on the clothes, and nothing could rival him (at least not for the same budget of 0$ and 0 cents). Soon he was waiting eagerly at the door, ready to jumpscare this year’s unsuspecting victims, like he used to years prior.

Then, the doorbell finally rang.

A scream resonated in the venue's walls.

A frightened Elizabeth had been tackled by her friend Piper Gibson. Who had pinched her sides and successfully scared her socks off. Still somewhat mad, Elizabeth was dragged by her friend’s hand to another more hidden room in Circus Baby’s Pizza World. An arcade maintenance room that wasn’t currently in use. Where all of her neighborhood friends had sat in a circle waiting for Piper’s spooky stories.

“They say this place was built on top of a bunker when The Cold War started, and that you can hear the cries of the people who were buried there when it closed, and they didn’t let anyone escape before being sealed in, some say they still roam the underground, and some say that the disturbance this pizzeria caused will awaken them once more, in this Hallow’s Eve!”.

The little red-haired girl finished with a theatrical cackle. As her brother Barret made silly noises to accompany her. The only one scared of the group turned out to be the young Peter Keaton, who hugged his Plushtrap will enough force to make the poor thing look more like a dog’s chewing toy than a small animatronic toy. The poor thing had seen better days.

Tera sealed the deal when she suddenly grabbed his shoulder to ask for something or other, making the poor child scream and run away. Which of course Barret and his sister just found hilarious. Eventually, the laughter subsided, as the group abandoned the arcade cabinet maintenance closet to look for Peter. Who seemed to have hidden away somewhere.

Peter had run and run until his little legs got tired of running. Quickly he saw a half-open door and ran into it. Closing it behind himself to confuse his imaginary pursuer. He looked frantically in the room, for any hiding spot that could protect him further, and he ended up settling for a rather clunky-looking wardrobe.

Peter sat there in complete silence, holding his breath for what felt like hours, but was in reality little more than a minute. He managed to kickstart his lungs again, not so afraid now. But his worries soon melted away when he heard his father’s voice faintly in the background.

“Still with that Finger trap of yours little guy? Where are you and your friend?” Peter asked “Daddy?” from the wardrobe, but his words did not seem to reach his father. So he ventured his little head outside the doors, trying to look for him, but the dark corners of the storage room seemed only filled with darkness.

He ventured further, trying to localize his father, he asked in a quivering voice “Daddy? Where are you? I can’t see.” And once more, his father responded, in a slightly disjointed tone. “Here! Just remember, be careful with that toy of yours being so near your fingers!”.

No matter how hard the little boy looked, he couldn’t see his father, but despite this, he still followed its sound into the darkness further ahead, and the reason for not seeing his father was soon revealed. His voice was coming from a large ventilation shaft on the wall.

After making sure he would be able to fit in. The little boy wiggled himself inside. He was easily able to fit inside and crawled his way forward with one arm, the other still holding tight onto his dear plushie. But in the darkness, he found himself having crawled into a closed end.

Peter attempted to crawl his way backward, but instead, a door closed itself behind him with force, leaving him uncomfortable in the small box-like space. He tried to move, to get out somehow, tried to move the Plush trap toy that had ended up lodged too close to his throat, making breathing difficult.

He tried and he tried, but he ended up breathless inside of a death machine that had simply been imitating his father’s voice. An angler fish with a teddy bear exterior.

Chapter Text

There were four.

Tera had eventually grown distracted from the chase, eventually giving up and making her way back to the arcade. She would simply wait for her friends to come back once the dust had settled and they had found their place.

Her attention was caught by a claw machine filled with all of the cutest things a little girl could imagine. It was pink and shiny and filled to the brim with big eyes plushies in all of the colors of the rainbow. She looked at the few quarters she still had left in her tiny pockets, wondering if it was worth it. And setting her sights on a cute bonnie plushie that had caught her sight.

The little girl tried, again. And again, to get her priced possession into her hands. It slipped from the claw’s hand every single time. Like a curse, the pink bunny plushie evaded her at every attempt. She was now at her last quarter when a bombastic voice erupted from behind her.

“HELLO! ON WHAT MAY I HELP YOU TODAY LITTLE MISSY!” The little girl jumped from the scare, somehow not having heard the gigantic fox animatronic, despite its massive weight in metal. It had sneaked up behind her, unnoticed. The little girl looked at the machine with sad eyes, not wanting to speak, but the robot did not seem to take offense, Continuing its cheerful dialog.

“OH! I SEE THE PROBLEM NOW! DO NOT WORRY! I WILL SHOW YOU THE WAY! JUST WATCH AND SEE THE TRUE TALENT OF A SHOWMAN SUCH AS I!” The entertainer then proceeded to get on its knees next to the nearest vending machine. It put its giant arm through the equally disproportionately wide vending machine door, getting a white Freddy pulse out of it.

Tera clapped and marveled at the discovery of theft. She jumped up and down as she signaled to the robot to get her the plushie she wanted, but it swung its head from side to side as it explained she had to do it herself. Having been given the same treatment by her parents many times, the little girl frowned but tried her hand at it anyway.

Her arm was minuscule compared to Funtime Foxy’s and it easily fit inside of the claw machine’s door. She had to get her whole head inside of the thing to reach her precious plushie, but she quickly regretted her decision when she was pushed with immense force against the machine.

Cramped into a space too small for her, the little girl attempted to contort her way out of the cramped prize collection box, through the hole you would drop the plushies from. At first, she asked for help believing it had been an accident. But instead of help a claw arm that had seemed so much smaller from her position as the player made its way towards her.

She tried to move out of the way, but the confined space impeded her escape as the claw tried again and again to grab the little girl. Getting tangled in her hair more and more, scraping at the skin and leaving bruises as the girl’s pleas turned to screams. Asking “FOXY! STOP, PLEASE, JUST STOP, IT HURTS!” But the only thing that heard her words was the unfeeling programming that controlled its vessel.

Her screams of agony were suddenly halted when the claw grabbed onto a piece of the girl’s dress collar, lifting her into an uncomfortable position, it dug deeply into her neck, at first bruising it, and cutting off her airflow, only allowing chokes and gasps for air to escape. Until nothing else could pass into the girl's swollen blue face.

Her body was lowered into a hidden compartment at the back of the Venus flytrap that had been disguised as a claw machine.

Then there were three.

Barret had separated from his sister Piper to search for Peter more quickly. The two siblings did not want to get into trouble. The last time they had been caught scaring the children their parents had taken their television privileges for a whole month. Which was a lot by their standards. They had lost all of the holiday specials that season.

Tall for his age Barret was searching the vacant dance floor. Despite it being opening day the whole establishment was rather empty. Most of the families were preparing for the trick-or-treating that was to come later that night. Either by making last-minute costumes or by gathering unhealthy amounts of sugary sweets.

The only one moving around was the animatronic that was meant to entertain the absent onlookers. A blue ballerina robot named Ballora. She was rather stiff, not managing to capture the elegance of her flesh counterparts. Her arcs did not go slow, then faster, slow again, but moved evenly with a millimetric precision that simply ruined it all. Her unmoving face did not help.

Barret failed to notice the small figures that littered the stage on its sides. Little wooden versions of the much larger none. Slowly they crawled towards him. So slowly that he did not notice their movement, except for one. It seemed to have gotten itself accidentally tangled in a handful of balloon strings. It crawled slowly, with a slight limp.

The usually rather dismissive boy for once in his life felt a twinge of compassion in his heart, getting closer to the admittedly creepy critter and starting to untangle (or at least attempt to) the mass of strings that had accumulated. He got rather immersed in the task, not noticing the music box getting louder and louder beside him. Not until he felt a yank at his hand and a bunch of thin strings against his throat.

He stared behind him as he tried to push the strings of his neck, but all he saw were sharp teeth and open eyes that wanted him dead. The strings of the helium-filled balloons kept getting tighter, starting to draw blood from his neck. The boy swung his mighty arms, trying to punch and claw at the robot with what little force remained. But no matter how mighty he might have thought himself of in the playground, no flesh could ever beat pure metal.
His shirt became dark red with blood as it drained from his insides and seeped into the low-quality cotton. Thankfully he lost consciousness before his head got completely cut from the meat of his body. Ballora left a bloody trail behind her as she left the stage with the corpse dragging onto the floor.

Then there were two.

Piper had finally gone back to where she had last seen her brother, but no matter how many times she had called his name, he did not answer back. The little girl was startled to panic, all kinds of strange thoughts of where he could have gone running through her rumor-making mind. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have the imagination to imagine his brother getting his legs eaten by a giant ball-pit leech.

The establishment looked particularly modern. Its walls were smooth and were not finished with stipples like her home. The ball-pit was no different having clean translucent balls that were new. Still smelling of fresh plastic. Piper called once more into the ball pit, a little further from the edge, to avoid the giant leech she theorized was inside. But once again nothing but silence responded.

Then she caught a slight movement, almost imperceptible, something that anyone else would have dismissed as nothing more than a slight breeze. But not Piper.

The little girl ran as far away from the pit of pythons as she could.

She ran so fast she managed to trip and fall, hitting her head against the colorful tiles of the newly opened restaurant. She did not feel like her slip from consciousness had taken long, it was like opening and closing her eyes very slowly, but when she awoke she found herself in a most peculiar contraption.

Little ballerina-like puppets called Minireenas were dancing about her field of vision, and baby-like Bidybabs creeped her out by watching from the sidelines. But her biggest concern at that moment was what was around her body. She could barely move, but whenever she did, she felt like her mom’s sewing needles were pressing themselves against her skin.

She could hear laughing, but even more, she could hear the unwinding of the mechanism around her, the bolts on the sides of her face slowly getting looser, but the suit itself getting tighter and tighter with each passing second.

She tried to stop the bolts, trying to stop the laughing from resonating in her head, she had seen traps like this in movies, maybe if only she tried she could get away from it, but no matter how deep her bloodied fingernails grasped at the bolts, they would not stop, instead choosing to grind at skin and keratin.

And with a final, sudden unbolt. The iron maiden suit finally snapped on the prey it had been fed.

Then there was one.

She had lost track of the others. And the music had completely taken her mind off of the search for little Peter. She couldn’t help but follow the music and wander into the forbidden room that her father had clearly stated was not hers to go inside.

She ignored the little angel on her shoulder and proceeded to admire the wall paintings and decorations. Immediately getting her hands on a couple of cupcakes that she downed as If they were bite-sized candy. The room was brightly decorated with hills on the walls, clouds on the ceiling, and all kinds of plastic flowers that looked real from far away.

But of course, her sight ended up meandering to the star of the whole establishment. The 7-foot-tall clown girl that gave it its name, Circus Baby had her blue eyes closed as If still waiting to wake up from a deep slumber. The light behind them turned off leaving them cold and lifeless.

But still, she stood with such a childlike posture and warmth that little Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor thing. So she approached her wanting to cheer her up. When she got closer to her stage, the metal contraption seemed to steer to life, detecting the little girl’s presence.

The robot counted, not aloud, but in its code, as the condition for its “yes” answer was met. And just as it had been programmed to do, the robot started performing the corresponding task, opening its belly with a click, as a large pincer-like hand offered little Elizabeth a yogurt ice cream cone, with a cherry on top. Dropping it on the floor with a loud “thud” that miraculously left the ice cream intact.

Little Elizabeth got closer, crouching to grab a scoop of the delicious frozen threat, while yogurt wasn’t her favorite flavor, it was up there with cookies & cream and banana (which to be fair, were much more rare).

But before she could taste the sugary tooth acher, she was grabbed by the claw-like arm that had offered the ice cream just a few seconds before. It yanked her with such force that the little girl wasn’t even able to breathe before being shoved forcefully into the cavity, but unlike Funtime Freddy’s, this one wasn’t as much designed to contain, as it was to squeeze the juice out of a person.

And so, with the quickest death of them all. The animatronic band of murderous machines finally rested after having collected their due. Proceeding with their usual programming of child-friendly fun, balloons, and carnival lights.

Just a little before the day closed, the programmer, the father, and the owner rounded up the children, calculating his gains through the security monitor he had installed in the building. In the first round, he was unable to find his daughter.

The second was no different. Finally, on the third round, he got up himself and started looking, searching for his daughter, calling out to her, but it was no use. Five were missing, just as he had programmed for each party, and yet his daughter found herself between the expected number.

As the closing hour approached, other parents started to call out to their children, but just like Elizabeth, they couldn’t reply.

With as much heaviness and sorrow as his cold dead heart could muster, William Afton released the emergency gas into the building, initiating a small fire and taking attention away from his missing daughter and programmed misdeeds. Only the firemen arrived that day, and eventually, as time passed.

After the papers had given the notice of the cancelation of the new local attraction. The children were simply accepted as the losses of the fire, at least by most. Despite the ashes or corpses never being found.

Well, Almost everyone.

After the loss of her daughter, Mrs. Afton did not go to court or fight any custody battles, she just simply banished into the night, never to be seen again. A missing suitcase and a few statement pieces of her wardrobe were all she left behind in her midnight escape.

Her only living son did not take this well. Paranoia had grown within him since his sister’s disappearance that Halloween, eating at him. This time not from actual responsibility, though he wished he had pushed his parents into allowing him to go instead of fooling around in the neighborhood.

No, it was a rather simple fear this time. A whisper that he could not silence this time. The horrible thought that his loved one was a monster. Sure, he was a monster, but not his father, at least he did not think so. Sure he sometimes would shout at them (now only at him) but unlike any of his friend’s parents, he never actually hit them, His words alone were more than enough for his children to obey him.

Despite Michael’s terrible personality, they would always compliment whoever had come to the parent-teacher conference on the fact he was very obedient. Immediately stopping whatever he was doing whenever he was told to do so (by someone he was afraid of, sadly his little brother had not counted between those with power over him).

Just like with his brother, he both admired and envied his father, seeing the man as a better version of himself he would never surpass or even be equal to. Despite their similar looks, he couldn’t help but feel like a lesser version of what his father was.

Of course, unlike with his brother, he wouldn’t even dream of trying to “one up” his father over it. His admiration and fear always kept his tendency to break things at bay. But despite it all, despite everything, he couldn’t get the thought of his father having murdered his sister from his head.

Five children, always missing, always around his father. But this time not even Henry was there. And worst of all, his father this time did not seem to mind his sister’s absence, every time Michael would ask, he would just dismiss it, shutting down any kind of idea about doing another search or putting a missing sign just in case she had left.

He couldn’t help his suspicions. But still, he tried to push them away, arguing he was grieving differently because this time the death of his sibling had been an accident. That put him at ease, at least on the nights he could sleep.

Chapter Text

The pizzeria was filled to the brim with people. It was suffocating. You could feel the scent of human flesh permeate the poorly ventilated rooms as your shoes got stuck on lord knows what diabolical substance.

Michael was there, but all he could do was observe, not move, he was cheerfully chatting but could not hear what was said, and then he caught a glimpse of something, crawling and moving underneath his skin, itching and reproducing using his folds, from his epidermis to his bones.

Larvae were growing inside of him.

The startled teen made a scream that managed to wake up the whole neighborhood, prompting his next-door neighbor Mr. Prescott to throw a shoe at his window while shouting unknown words in Italian. Very possibly insults against his no longer present mother.

Utah had started to cool earlier that autumn, so his night sweats quickly turned cold and he covered himself in his 3 blankets once more. Seeing as his father refused to turn on the heating, citing it “being too early” and that he “needed to toughen up”. But he just didn’t want to pay the expense of heating a house he barely lived in.
He probably heated the rental place.

Regardless, Michael would need to take a shower the next morning If he didn’t want to reek of humanity the rest of tomorrow. So seeing as he didn’t want to go back to his nightmares or get out and into the shower, he settled on looking groggily out the window as he waited for at least the sun to come out.

After a scolding hot shower filled with silence and rust. He went to the kitchen already fully dressed and with his coat already on, his father as usual was nowhere to be found. But in his place, or better said, in the direction of his usual dining place, the note he had left after their last fight stood like a bad omen.

“Michael,

If you wanna find out what happened to your sister, go to the rental place I own, and ask for a position as a technician. Maybe for once you could do something useful with your pathetic life and fix her.

- W.B. Afton

He had applied despite still being puzzled about how to fix a child that was dead. What was he supposed to do? Frankenstein style become an undergrad scientist and zap her? Make a serum to re-animate her missing remains? Oh, what about making a pact with the devil? That seemed more realistic at least.

In the last year, he had worked on trying to build up at least a modicum of trust towards his father. Seeing as his paranoia was preventing him from eating, sleeping, and going into the kitchen. Hence not eating. But the note was a setback. It did not help that since the discussion he had at best just caught glimpses of his father.

The teenager finished his breakfast as he wished he had slept at least two hours more before his first night shift. And to top off the wonderful day that awaited him he had to also go to his driving exam after having already failed it, not once, not twice but three times in a row. At that point, he felt like Sisyphus moving a stupid rock that didn’t want him driving it.

In a little corner of his mind, he was wondering If his father had orchestrated the whole “note” thing just to save up money and not have to hire a new technician. Since the previous one had died.

He waited in the rain as the cars drove by. Hoping to catch a glimpse of a driving school sign. Had he gone to the wrong address? Should he call? Were they trapped in a traffic jam, he didn’t know, but the anticipation was making him dread it. He couldn’t help but hope the previous student had caused a traffic accident so that his exam would be canceled.

But against his wishes, nothing had happened and the vehicle arrived just in time for his due date. He got into the car, and his instructor asked him mechanical questions like where certain buttons were or what to have in case of an emergency.

His hands were trembling and his leg was just going up and down and down like a rabbit checking for predators. But his blood ran cold when he spotted who else had a driving exam that day.

None other than fellow child-murdering accomplice Jeremy Fitzgerald was looking just as dreadful in the backseat of the car. Seemingly not having noticed who was the one in the driving seat. The examiner eventually arrived, sitting beside Michael as his instructor went to the back of the car to sit beside Jeremy.

He quickly started trying to get the car going, unknowingly prompting the instructor to start questioning his nationality. “I thought the English drove on the left? Do you wish to change?” He laughed alone at his joke.

Eventually, he managed to turn the ignition key the correct way and the car started, and from the traffic light to the stop sign all Michael focused on was the road ahead, until he didn’t and he accidentally took the wrong turn, making everyone on the car exasperated. Regardless it was now his time to park the car in battery so that Jeremy could take the wheel and do his exam.
But, he fucked up that too.

A “kataclank” was heard that indicated that he had driven too far back and climbed into the sidewalk. That was another failure for Mr. Afton Jr. The jokey mood had quickly dissipated when the examiner instructed Jeremy Fitzgerald to switch spots with Michael, making him finally recognize the guy.
And then it started raining.

His instructor had taken the opportunity to hit him in the head with his roll of paper notes, not hard but it still felt demoralizing. The drive back was rather calm apart from Jeremy’s panic alerting the examiner of any slight error and a particularly slow parking into a spot where ultimately the car didn’t fit.

It looked like neither of them was passing or getting home dry, seeing as Jeremy had also “chosen” to take a wrong turn. It was all Utah signs’s fault. Maybe he should have waited to take his driving exam after Uni, and not before. But he did not particularly want to stay with his father after Uni to do his driving exam.

Eventually, the instructor left them in a loading and unloading zone and left in search of the next exam takers that the pair had so lovingly gotten as far away as possible from. It was like they were allergic to do things right he had said. The lanky man then left them in the rain. After a few minutes of silence, Michael realized he had managed to leave his umbrella in the driving-school car’s trunk.

His English ancestors would probably scream at him if they saw him. He should have known better. So he just started to walk away while getting soaked in rain, ignoring Jeremy like he wasn’t there. Who signaled to him that he was going in the wrong direction.

The first few minutes of the walk were silent. Which was more than perfect for Michael. Apart from the wind that had picked up speed since their departure from the car. Which prompted Jeremy to start talking about the weather.

“It hasn’t rained like this in a while in Hurricane…” Michael didn’t know what was more doomed, this conversation or throwing himself into a river, but the second option was starting to look very attractive. He looked around to see If the metro station was getting any closer or If he was willing to run and make himself look even more unhinged than his no longer friend already knew he was.

For better or for worse, he chose to preserve his dignity and make some small talk as they danced around the issue. But of course, he instead walked right into another one when he accidentally opened another can of worms.

“So, how’s Cassidy? I haven’t seen her in a while.” Wrong question. Jeremy’s face scrunched into all kinds of bitter and it looked like he had just swallowed a lemon. But he eventually answered, in a rather unpolite manner.

“She is dead. You asshole.” Well, guess that conversation topic was settled. Better luck next time. At least now they had something else in common apart from being implicated to various degrees in the murder of Michael’s brother, now they had dead sisters in common.

“Well, how did she die?” The answer was obviously “Freddy’s” and Michael should have probably foreseen that. It wasn’t usual for young children to die anyway. And he should have foreseen that it would have been something with ties in it. But to his surprise, Jeremy was the one who continued the awkward conversation topic this time.

“You know, I sometimes think back to the fucked up stuff we did when we were younger. Remember when we shouted and threw grass at Ally saying that the grass had AIDS when we didn’t know what it was. That was pretty fucked up.” It was sometimes easy to forget he had done other gross stuff apart from killing his brother and to be honest, Michael did not need the depressive reminder that he was trash when he was younger. He already knew that.

“Or remember when those girls were throwing basketballs at Jennifer’s head and we kinda ignored it and passed the basketball to them anyway. I sometimes wish I could have gone back and recognized how fucked up that was.” Michael had forgotten about Jennifer too, she had committed suicide a few years before entering high school, and none of her classmates had been invited to her funeral.

“Where are you going with this?” Michael was starting to get confused. But the boy’s answer left him even more confused.

“It’s too late to change the past, but I would like to stop fucked up shit from happening for once, so If you want to do something with your pathetic life for once, meet me at the school entrance tomorrow.”

Jeremy rushed into the metro’s doors and left Michael stunted as the door closed in his face. Leaving him processing the last words the other one had said. Eventually, Michael’s brain reminded him that he was starting his night shift and that the bus would have been faster.

So he cursed himself while entering the next metro train.

A sad-looking man sat at his desk at the Rental Animatronics’ reception area. He smelled of too many cigarettes and looked like he hadn’t slept. The two dudes stood there looking at each other, waiting for the other to say something, and finally, the sad-looking man pointed Michael towards the elevator with his finger.

Seeing as the receptionist wasn’t very keen on receiving him, he followed the lackluster instructions and got into the elevator. He enjoyed the waiting music for a bit before a moving panel startled him. A sloppy handwritten “Mike” was plastered on the poor computer monitor on top of badly cut masking tape. No one and even less his father called him that, so either The sad-looking man from the reception area put it there or a very different Michael used to work there.

Thankfully, the computer was smart enough to figure out it needed to know his name, so he took the opportunity to fix it, and… the computer chose to ignore it and call him a horrible breakfast option.

He wanted to leave already. How far down was the bloody facility anyway? He knew (more from listening in on some of his father’s phone conversations rather than any actual research or questioning), but he was pretty sure not even nuclear bunkers went as deep, at least not regular civilian ones.

Regardless, the first night was even to his disappointment rather uneventful, he similarly performed the tasks as the robots of the facility did, simply following the commands of the pre-recorded voice known as hand-unit. That was until he reached the Circus Control area.

The previous tasks had been rather direct, press button A, press button B and zap the ugly as-hell animatronics his father had built. But with Circus Baby’s area, things had been different. The animatronic never showed up, not even after the constant zapping.

He had felt observed, yet there was no one behind the glass as far as he could tell, only the darkness of the stage.

On his way back, he had wondered If any of the decor had been similar on the day of his sister’s disappearance. He kinda wished he could go back in time. At least to talk to her before she departed from this world. But he had made some peace with the fact that old mistakes couldn’t be fixed.

How curious that her favorite star of the show refused to show herself when he was around. He found himself puzzled as he took the elevator to the surface, his father’s words had been as “lovely” as ever, but he sounded more like a madman than usual.

He had asked particular things of him in the last couple of years, and Michael had started to question If he had inherited some kind of “crazy” from his father. But stealing his old company’s documents and getting information on Henry Emily did not seem as far-fetched as asking him to fix a dead person.

Thinking about old Henry E. He had had to use fake names to get job positions in the man’s side hustles, thankfully since he had become a recluse, he had never seen Michael in an interview, so as long as his other teenage employees failed to do the most basic of background checks, he would get in.

As far as he could tell he was just a sad old man trying to find any explanation regarding his daughter’s death, between his science fiction sketches of rebuilt daughters and mechanical impossibilities lay the rambles of a conspiracy theory.

Sometimes he would blame Michael, other times the police, and other times his father and even his poor wife appeared in some of his notes. Despite feeling that it was rather pathetic to steal from a sad broken man, he had never voiced his concerns to his father.

“Better shut your mouth and do what you are told” one of his teachers had told him, and he had learned that life was particularly easier when you followed that principle.

He slept little more than 4 hours that night, making it so that he woke with very little of a will to live, and even less of a will to go to high school. And then he remembered Jeremy Fitzgerald would be waiting for him at the entrance.

How bloody lovely.

So he grabbed a purple t-shirt, and a pair of jeans, put on his only pair of boots, and armed himself with a coat against the 7 am cold of the morning. Autumn was with spring the worst season to figure out what the fuck to wear. Because you would be freezing in the morning, dying in the afternoon, and getting a cold by night.

Everyone had been sick lately, the teacher’s the students. All but the sad reception guy at his father’s place. Whose name he had learned was Carl. He was rather nice and had wished him good luck with school. Michael appreciated that.

As he ran through the streets of Hurricane because he had taken too much time dressing himself, he noticed he was coming down with something too. Hopefully a cold and not the flu. His skin also seemed to have started to peel and break, thanks to late puberty. Something he did not appreciate, but his body did regardless.

When he saw the old institute approaching, he slowed down his pace. He didn’t need his classmates to think he was any more off than they already did. Even If “Freddy's missing children’s incident” had eclipsed his failures as a human being, people still saw him as a rather scary and unstable person.

It seemed events had been forgotten but the feelings around them hadn’t.

The other thing he saw as he slowed his step even more was the Jeremy he wanted so little to see. Perched against the table at the high school’s entrance. Looking far away into the distance while thinking of something. Probably how he was gonna be a nuisance to his old best friend.

When he approached the guy, he dramatically turned in his direction as If he were some noir-era detective, and waved for him to sit at the table. There he displayed several Polaroid photos from Michael’s previous jobs. From Christmas 1985 to summer 1987.

“Could I sue you for this?” Michael asked, concerned. To which Jeremy replied, “I don’t know, but I could sue you for using a fake identity and lying about your age.” Michael simply nodded as his brain screamed and rattled trying to find a way out.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think any of our families have enough money to sue anyone right now. But I do want answers. So I would very much appreciate it If you could answer why you took these jobs and why you lied.” Straight to the point, good old Jeremy. Of course, Michael chose to lie.

“Well, you know… I have been failing my driving tests a lot lately, and despite my father’s business, money has been a little tight, so they wouldn’t hire me due to that thing that happened in 83’. I chose to lie at the only place where they wouldn’t check.” He finished his story with a little bow, and a little hook ready to be picked.

“Freddy’s?” Jeremy bit.

“Exactly, where else do they have such low standards?” He hoped the cold would make the sweat on his forehead and hopefully even his extremely rehearsed delivery fade. But sadly he had overseen something.

“You forgot we started our driving lessons at the same time idiot. Last year.” Yeah, Michael should have foreseen that his terrible memory would bite him in the ass once more.

So of course, he started panicking, And just as the bell rang for first period, he ran away from his problems, as Jeremy shouted after him that they weren’t done yet.

And neither of them would realize how right he was.

Chapter Text

Since they both had failed their driving test the previous day, they had the pleasure of being partnered up for the two-hour driving lesson before their next exam. Two hours of joy for sure, no one, not even the instructor.

The both of them looked at the driver’s seat trying to see who would go first. But since they had an alphabetically ordered list, it was Michael. This time the driving instructor and the examiner seemed to know each other, what their relationship was they couldn’t tell (but it was probably not recognized by the state of Utah).

Regardless, Michael was several coffees in and needed to concentrate, so he started to quite literally trace one of the routes he had practiced with his instructor, trying to be very careful of looking like he was paying attention to the road. But on the back, much to Jeremy’s dismay, a doomed conversation was beginning to brew.

Their instructor seemingly bored because for once Michael wasn’t making several mistakes with the flick of a hand, decided to shift his focus to Jeremy seeing as his friend and “student” had it under control.

“Soooooooooo… Jeremy… how’s the family? It’s been a while since I have seen your dad at any of the car rallies this past year. How is he doing?” Michael kept repeating the phrase “eyes on the road” like a mantra.

“He’s fine.” Sadly for everyone involved the short and monotonously delivered response wasn’t enough of a hint, prompting the examiner to chime in with his own two cents. “Well, last time I met the man in the grocery store he was looking a bit under the weather. So we were just a little worried. That’s all.” Michael sighed in relief, but sadly for him the calm didn’t last long.

“Changing the topic, how are you and your sister doing at school? Hopefully, she’s not getting into trouble as usual, eh?” Jeremy did not know If he wanted to get out of the car and leave, get swallowed by the earth, or throw himself off a cliff, but all options seemed inevitable If he didn’t want to murder his examiner.

“Dead and buried, why don’t you ask Michael?” Well, he was trembling already because of the exam, but Michael was not equipped to deal with murder accusations and driving at the same time. He managed abruptly but correctly enough to pass, and stop the car before they drove through a very obvious red traffic light. Hopefully, his examiner was too shocked to have noticed it. He could only pray.

“Why don’t we tell them what we did to my brother, then?!” He shouted to the front without looking back. Thankfully before a very unprofessional and impolite shouting match could start between them, the traffic light turned green, allowing Michael to proceed with his exam without any other hitch. Until it came time to park that is.

He had two options, parking in parallel and parking in battery, and he was equally terrible at both of them. So he chose to park in battery, so he shifted the vehicle into reverse and started moving backward, and he kept moving backward. And he continued moving backward and then as you could expect the car went onto the pavement.

After several muttered swears, he was finally told to switch seats with his exam partner, who sadly did not fare any better. Michael could not figure out If Jeremy was driving so badly on purpose or not. He kept forgetting to signal where he was going, he kept changing gear too soon or too late and he was just generally dangerous to unsuspecting pedestrians.

It was to the point Michael was hoping it was on purpose. Either way, he did not want to get in a car with Jeremy Fitzgerald in the foreseeable future, even If he passed the exam.

Their journey abruptly ended with the examiner simply telling Jeremy to leave the car in a loading and unloading area, so that everyone could go home. Well, everyone except Michael who had to go to work thanks to his father.

He had so little time left that he couldn’t even manage to stay awake for a full episode of “The Immortal & The Restless”. He would need to catch up when whatever he was supposed to do was finished. If getting the DVDs of the new season fell, he could always just watch re-runs of old seasons and try to glimpse the new episodes between the ten they would always repeat.

How could he find out about whether or not Clara would end up dating her nice neighbor Adam Frankfurthstein or go back to the back and forth with Vlad, If all the goddamn station kept doing was rerunning the divorce arc?! And most importantly, Vlad would finally start paying child support?!

His telenovela thoughts were sadly interrupted by someone else hounding for answers, this time a real person. Jeremy Fitzgerald had cornered him between a trash can and a stairwell. He was refusing to move as Michael kept failing to convince him to step aside by running into him as If he weren’t there.

The clock kept ticking and violence started to seem like a good option for dealing with the issue.

A stare-off started between them, eventually broken by Jeremy backing out and trying to bargain. “Look, dude, I just want information on Freddy’s, ok? Anything weird you might have seen in your job, anything weird with the owners or an employee? Anything, contacts even, or some way to get that information, anything!”
Michael did not really wanna get mixed up in anything, but even If he was just doing it for old times, he still decided to do the bare minimum for his old friend.

He wrote down the new Freddy’s number and handed it to him. It was the new place Henry Emily had opened alone now that he was the sole owner of the Fazbear brand, much to his father’s dismay. He doubted there would be anything in the building apart from some bits and pieces of the old bots and the puppet. But he felt it was enough to get Jeremy out of his hair.

After receiving the crumpled piece of paper, Jeremy nodded and finally let him pass, just as the metro arrived. Hopefully, Michael would not regret this. He doubted his father had access to any of the databases of the new location, or that he had remembered his son used to have friends. But he supposed the worst that could happen was Jeremy getting fired.

Once again he saluted good old Carl at the door. This time the man looked rather cheerful and seemed eager to talk. Michael looked at the clock on the reception area wall to see If he had time to chat or If he needed to start running for the elevator doors in search of salvation from small talk about the weather.

“How’s the weather?”

“Terrible, as always.”

“How are you?”

“Tired, as always.”

Thankfully the conversation was rather brief and delightful, Carl turned out to be so happy because he was an uncle. Despite Michael feeling happy that the man was not completely depressed for once, he couldn’t help but feel grateful before the man started shifting through a baby album that Michael couldn’t figure out how he had done so fast. It had been less than 24 hours since the baby had been born.

The ride down the elevator was equally as displeasing as If he had stuck around through the life of a newborn, or so he imagined. The talking menace that was hand unit had decided that it would be very lovely to put on a rather annoying “angsty teen voice” in which he would say “whatever” in a rather passive-aggressive voice. And on top of that remind him of his terrible life choices up to that point. But he wasn’t about to put up a resignation letter.

On one hand, he had the slightly exaggerated (in his mind) suspicion that he would kill him. On the other hand, he wanted to figure out what kinda madness had taken over his father. Whom he had not seen in the last few days.

And Jeremy was starting to get to him. Sure, he had never assumed that what his father was sending him to pick up as Fritz or Mike Smith was good or particularly legal. But he had simply thought of it as his father stealing things from his old business partner as something very unprofessional, not suspicious.

But looking back it looked rather bad on him to have been messing around with the animatronics in the old pizzeria. Especially the one where children had gone missing. He was so immersed that only hand-units retort over a dead body having been found in the vents last week. Well, at least now Michael knew why getting hired had been so easy.

Getting his head into the game, he managed to follow the instructions and light up Ballora’s Gallery, only to get a fucking heart attack from the fucking animatronic. Even before the hand unit could tell him to zap her, he had already started franticly mashing the light and such buttons.

Much to his dismay, the panel did not appreciate getting assaulted on the same level as a Space Invaders arcade machine. And neither did Hand-Unit as he decided that it was a wonderful time to reset the security measures. Fucking disabling said security measures in the process.

The lights went out, the vents opened and Michael’s hope to survive went right out of the window. He crawled onward towards the vent, being able to hear Funtime Foxy’s megaphone vocals as he shouted “ENCORE!” Despite the lack of a previous performance. Through the vents at his sides, he could also hear what sounded like small children’s pre-recorded laughter. So more in desperation than in clear thinking he made his way towards the Circus Control room.

Hopefully, that damn thing his sister used to adore wouldn’t be there today either. Just in case he continued c Rawling as to avoid the things beyond the glass panels spotting him. And his under the table in a futile attempt to hide. He couldn’t help but be reminded of when Gregory his under the table or blankets only for Michael to find him at first glance.

He doubted the robots would be any nicer from what he had seen in the other locations, but somehow this bunch seemed more rabid. The most the others had done during his dayshift had been stare strangely or bite some idiot kid’s fingers off. These seemed more like actual caged circus animals.

Much to his dismay little footsteps were heard in the closeness of his hiding spot. Slowly getting closer a somewhat familiar tone interrupted the robots. The animatronic acted curious and just like hand unit before her, she questioned Michael about his motives, he was starting to think that this was his father’s way of berating him when he wasn’t home, but regardless, he listened.

Her guesses seemed vague and blind, Michael knew why he was there because he had to be. Although he supposed satisfying the curiosities under his father’s mad ramblings would be a nice bonus. That is If anything got clarified, which wasn’t usually the case with his father. He had learned the hard way not to ask questions directly.

Once more a vital piece of information brought Michael back to reality, something about the location made it rather easy for him to slip back into memory lane he supposed. Maybe that’s the reason his father kept at it in the animatronic business instead of selling it off like Henry Emily had done that year. Nostalgia.

What he assumed was Baby talking gave him a useful tip about a grate nearby to block the baby-looking Bidybabs from getting to his eyes. Leveling his weight and pushing the grate as close to the table as possible he managed to evade them for long enough that his fingers started turning purple from the effort.

But eventually, they lost interest and Michael’s fingers managed the regain their pale glory. Having not gone outside for a while had sadly made him look more similar to his father. Explaining why his neighbors complimented him about being a photocopy and the confusion of the elderly neighbors who had met his father when he was young and had just moved to Utah with his family.

After that lovely confrontation that made Michael wished he had gotten into a car crash during his driving test to avoid having to come to work. He had signed up to snoop around, not to have his eyesight and physical integrity threatened. Still, Baby was more than the unreliable Hand Unit his father had probably programmed to avoid having to pay anyone above minimum wage.

So a seemingly helpful robot against a faulty Afton text-to-speech program seemed like an unfair fight to Michael. Though he doubted Baby had some kind of Skynet-level intelligence, considering she was meant to be a clown and not some kind of world-governing supercomputer.

But still, there was something that felt much more alive about her, maybe his father was right and Henry had been a hindrance in his “genius”. But Michael couldn’t help but feel like there was something other than programming in her word choice, they felt too familiar.

Regardless, he eventually chose to trust her words over the thing that had left him defenseless without a warning. He crawled slowly throughout Ballora’s domain, making sure to stop whenever he heard the faint tingle of the mallets inside her music box. After surviving another heart attack, this time by Hand-Unit suddenly deciding that he cared about Michael’s time management, so much so that he had to tell him off to “hurry up” in a life or death scenario.

Michael couldn’t help but wonder where the damn thing was stored to smash it to shit and back. But he doubted it would be accessible without a plan. And even more, he doubted one of his father’s animatronics would let him. Do that unscratched.

Alas, he finally made his way towards the boiler room, bidding Ballora a rather joking wave goodbye. Out of the pan and into the fire he went. Someone with a very special and annoying voice was ready to greet him while he tried to get the damn power fully back on. Funtime Freddy was ready to play.

Thankfully for Michael, the animatronic was rather easy to fend off, a few clicks here and there to let Bonbon do his job as Freddy’s on-hand therapy (get it, on hand because he is a hand puppet, a joke to die for, from how bad it was).

Michael’s bad jokes and animatronic problems aside he found himself much more perplexed at the facility’s map than anything else. There was more than he had been led to believe. What first caught his eye, at first sight, had been nothing more and nothing else than the padded room.

The padded room he had supposedly seen when being high for a week. The padded room he had been trapped in for that week, he had to find it, he needed… Then alongside it, he noticed more things.

There seemed to be a direct line from the bunker to the room through Funtime Auditorium. Passing through a set of symmetrical corridors that he couldn’t recognize. He needed to remember that. Maybe look out for a key of some sort since the corridor faded into the background.

On the end of the horizontal axis, he could see what he vaguely remembered as a place where Plushtrap used to scurry about trying to take a chomp of his fingers. He still had a small scar from one time when he failed.

Next to the Circus Control Room the biggest area the boiler seemed to control (other than the bunker itself) was the old Fredbear's location, which had lasted very little time thanks to Michael’s help. And had eventually been turned into a bar. A bar that had been eventually abandoned. Who knows? Maybe his father had something to do with it since he seemed to still have access to the place.

Regardless he pushed on.

The last thing he noticed were several strange corridors next to Funtime Auditorium, but seeing how much information he had gleamed from just one look, he let it go assuming it was storage. His mind was too occupied racing at the thought that he wasn’t actually that crazy, at least not as crazy as his mother had believed…

He slowly made his way back through Ballora Gallery, and much to his delight the animatronic seemed to have lost interest in him rather quickly. Though his mind was far away from his job, it was at the dead dog and the basement door.

Before taking the next train home, Michael put his hurry to try and break into his own home’s basement (If his Father wasn’t there, of course) to the side. And with a dollar and some banging on the payphone box, he entered a number that he was sure was just as interested in the new information as himself.

A confused and rather tired “Hello” answered from the other side. Jeremy had never been much of a morning person.

Chapter Text

The Five Guys was empty that morning, only being inhabited by a few drunkards and teens who had partied way too hard during the weekend. Most Five Guys opened at midday and closed at midnight, similar to the new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. But the owner of the particular one situated in Hurricane had struck gold when he noticed a lack of decent food places open in the morning.

Much to the dismay of most of the young adult staff. Sadly, they would have to serve Michael, Jeremy, and the drunkards. Michael had entertained himself by peeling the free peanuts while Jeremy waited for their food at the counter. And he couldn’t help but wish the kitchen would catch on fire so that he and everyone else would be released from continuing existence.

Had he been the one to call Jeremy? Yes. Had he also done it more out of a feeling of obligation rather than want? Also yes. Especially since Jeremy had yelled at him (while whispering to not wake up his parents) for waking him up so early in the morning, only to tell him he would talk later. Not like Michael was doing any better, he had missed the few hours of sleep he got every day to have this conversation, his shift that night was going to be delightful.

And now he is realising he has a driving lesson this afternoon and… maybe he should just skip class unless he wants to kill some kid on the road. His driving instructor would always notice when he was tired because his reflexes were slower than a snail. You could slap Michael and he would register what had happened five seconds later. And five seconds later on the road was a death sentence.

Jeremy finally arrived with two brown bags and receipts in his hands, Still having not said anything Michael paid him back. Realising he hadn’t told Jeremy his order and had just gone straight for the peanuts. But he had gotten him his usual, somehow remembering it. It had only been 4 years since they had stopped being friends. But Michael couldn’t even remember his ID number, so this seemed impressive to him.

Finally, Jeremy broke the ice with what had probably been on his mind since 6:15 a.m. that morning.”Let me get this straight, you think your father killed my sister, because you think he killed your sister, because he looked you into a bunker and put a dead dog in your fridge.” Michael nodded, he was aware he sounded crazy, which was why he had called Jeremy because he usually sounded crazy too.

“Ok… Let’s say you are right, because no offense, your father was suspicious as fuck when my sister (and the other kids) went missing. All we have is your words and my bad regard for your father. We also don’t know why he would kill my sister, much less his daughter. Apart from him acting defensive when you ask him…” Jeremy started finally biting into his lukewarm hamburger after having been eating potato in between phrases. In his defence, they were both hungry and had only had a coffee before getting there.

Michael tried to think in the meantime about that. Sure, he had accused his father of it multiple times to no degree of success unless you considered getting shouted at a "success", but then he remembered the strange note his father had left him after their last shouting match about the matter. She had supposedly gone missing after the gas explosion, presumably buried in the rubble with no body found. But his father had still asked him to fix her as If she were a broken lightbulb rather than a corpse.

“Do you still remember how to pick locks?” Michael asked, remembering that time they were graffitiing the school bathroom and got locked in by the cleaning lady. Leading Michael to panic, only for Jeremy to magically get them out of there with a few clicks of a couple of hairpins. Jeremy, who had lost the topic already after focusing on his food for a while, looked at him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

“For what?

The house was dark, autumn was leaving and winter was coming. The light had become dim anytime that wasn’t midday. Brewing a perfect recipe for a seasonal depression that only the Thanksgiving and Christmas spirit could cure.

Michael sat quietly against the wall, while Jeremy grunted trying to get the basement door’s lock open. Could they get into trouble for breaking into Michael’s own home? He was seventeen so in theory, he was still under his father’s jurisdiction. But, to be quite frank, they weren’t as scared of the legal ramifications of their actions. They were much more scared of the man himself finding out.

Eventually, the door clicked open. getting an excited “yeah!” from Jeremy, and a way too harsh pat on the back from Michael, that rattled poor Fitzgerald Jr’s ribs. After an apology, the both of them started their descent into the stairs, plunging into a much more oppressive darkness.

At the bottom of the stairs, Michael & Jeremy started slapping the wall in search of the light switch, cursing at each other for not having foreseen they would need a flashlight.

A few insults to each other’s intellectual abilities later, Michael finally managed to switch the light on. Accidentally breaking it and getting it stuck in that position. He would fix that later. Hopefully. Or maybe cover it in flex tape and hope his father didn’t notice.

It worked with the living room lamp. Maybe he could make it work again. At least try to save his skin.

At first, the basement appeared damp and empty. A few workshop tables here, a few carpentry tools there, and mechanical stuff piled up in a corner. Despite the rather dull view, the two teenagers got to work on putting the place inside out wrong.

A loud clunk was heard when Jeremy managed to smash his head against the underside of a table. Earning a “don’t die!” shout from Michael. Only for him to hit his leg with the same table a few minutes later.

Seeing as they were getting nowhere. The two mates ended up sitting in the middle of the room as Michael tried to remember anything. In the meantime, Jeremy tried to think of cliche places where a secret door would be.

Michael had his hands on his face and eventually started knocking on his head to try and fix his memory like you would a broken television. But before he could crack it open, Jeremy got up and started walking towards one of the walls that had a “Celebrate!” poster.

Pressing Freddy’s nose.

A honk resounded, echoing slightly as the door that was blending into the wall decorations cracked open slightly. Enough for Jeremy to wiggle it and make enough noise to alert Michael that he had found something.

There were no whispers, no darkness, and at first Michael could not recognize the wooden halls and barely filled-in walls. But then they entered through one of the doors. And everything clicked.

A room with no windows and two doors, each one on one side. A closet in front of him, and a rather basic-looking bed behind him. Michael was processing that it was real. He wasn’t fucking bananas! But then Jeremy screamed.

The boy fell backward as he tried to get as far away from the bed as possible. Michael, still feeling somewhat dizzy from the sudden adrenaline rush, didn't think twice before looking under it, only to suffer a small heart attack right on the spot.

A large robot-like thing lay under the bed. Its surface was smooth, looking like cheap plastic, and its teeth seemed to be made of the same material, but rough and sharpened. He couldn’t estimate the monster’s height, but he knew his head size was twice his own.

A few moments passed as the two teens remained startled, Michael was the first to react when his mind managed to register that the wretched thing was offline. Instinctively going to check in the closet.

And there it was. His old favorite character. Or more precisely something that had the functional traits of his old favorite character. The fox did not look anything like the red fox he had loved as a child, and neither did it remind him of the nightmares he had been reliving every night since that day. For four years.

Jeremy finally managed to pull himself back together, still processing everything. Only to pat Michael on the back while still looking at the closet and saying “Issues”.

Mike couldn’t help but judgingly stare at the other guy, before going back to think of what they should do. Especially with his father missing and this, while being fucked up, probably not being enough evidence for, quite frankly anything but Jeremy believing his suspicions.

After his… very helpful word, Jeremy continued to follow Michael around as they checked for the other animatronics he had seen on the boiler room’s map. The only one missing, According to Michael, was a small spring bonnie monster. But all of the things they had found in the fake basement house were rather big.

So with a promise to meet again, and to try and find more respectively, the two boys parted, with a goal in mind. Putting Michael’s father behind bars.

Jeremy had a lot to process that Wednesday. He had already skipped most of his first period and he didn’t have any intention to return to high school. Michael had simply gone to bed and passed out before Jeremy could even make it out of the front door.

He felt a bit guilty, Cassidy would have already been screaming at him for being a bad influence on her untainted child mind. Despite having probably kicked a child who was being too loud on the bus that morning. But sadly, he couldn’t get yelled at by her, because she was dead.

It didn’t matter much. He had barely been passing his classes since her death. His parents still held hope that their “missing” daughter would one day be found. Putting posters around Hurricane with her face every year on the anniversary of her disappearance.

It sometimes seemed like his family was the only one who remembered she was gone. The rumors about Freddy's and the supposed killer were very alive. But the names of the victims had been quickly forgotten to the sands of time. Sands of time that being honest, had benefited himself once.

Everyone but himself had moved on from the bite of 83. It was old news by now. Forgotten but not forgiven. It had seemed like such a fun idea at the time. All of his friends were doing it, so… against his better judgment.

He’d rather not think about it.

But he wasn’t about to let his hypocrisy or conscience stop him. He stepped into the new Freddy’s location with full confidence and a resume he had used to get a swimming instructor job that very same summer. Was it appropriate to get the night guard position?

Hell no.

Did Fazbear Entertainment give a fuck? No. If it was legal they would contract a nine-year-old to do the job and pay them in free pizza. Despite his lackluster resume, Jeremy still expected to be contracted for the nighttime position on the spot. But his shoulders quickly deflated when the reception woman said there were no positions available at the time.

But, thankfully, before the poor teen could leave dragging his feet along the tiled floor. The woman stopped him, signaling for him to get closer, and started whispering very interesting information.

“But… as I said, there are no positions currently available. But! The current night guard has been pestering our manager about a position change that will probably take place this Friday. So… If you come back at the weekend, you might be in luck If no one else is as static as you!”

The older woman winked rather badly at him before shouting “Good luck!” as If some sort of dumb secret spy agreement had been made between the two of them. Maybe she didn’t want to be the one to have to cover the night shift.

Jeremy was not completely satisfied with the outcome. But it would hopefully do. He could check on the place during the night. He had heard that they had “recycled” some of the stuff from that fateful day back 2 years ago. So If he was lucky he would find something about his sister.

Hopefully not a detached body part though.

He had a strong stomach. Or so he thought. But between that and seeing your own family member’s corpse, there was a line. A line that he hoped did not cross his sight during this “improvised investigation” he and his old “friend” had going on.

His decent mood sadly vanished as quickly as he laid his eyes on recent “missing posters”. Three children had been presumably kidnapped off the street during the week. And they were still missing. A sudden sense of urgency washed over Jeremy as he realized he and Michael were running out of time.

Dave Miller was a strange person. And Mr. Newton did not like him one bit. Despite having been the manager of all kinds of strange characters throughout the horrible run of Fazbear Entertainment, he couldn’t quite pin him down.

For 3 nights since Sunday he had seemed to be… strangely elated… about his new job. But just recently he had started to complain about working conditions and the animatronics' strange behavior.

The other rather suspicious thing was that supposedly, all of his 20-year work experience had only consisted of Freddy’s. Mr. Newton attempted to remember him multiple times, even searching for the man in old “employee of the month” photos he had collected over the years. But nothing turned up.

Perhaps he was that unremarkable.

Robin Newton kinda hated people like that. He couldn’t understand how someone who did the bare minimum could ever pass in life, let alone succeed or even get a job. But his wife had always told him that he worried too much, especially when it came to managing the different Freddy’s Locations.

Maybe he should take a note from Dave and relax a little. But to be quite frank, he couldn’t relax. It had not even been a week since the restaurant had opened, and people were already accusing them of incidents that did not even take place at Freddy’s.

Some kiddos had gone missing because of their irresponsible parents around town. He had seen the type. Taking a coffee not even looking at their kids while they broke some house's windows. He did not feel at all bad for them.

He and his dear wife were never like that with Newton Jr. He was a very well-behaved child.

Regardless, thanks to whatever pervert had been going around snatching kids. He had had the pleasure of meeting multiple times with reporters to deny any wrongdoing or connection to Fazbear.

It was rather tiring, even though he was used to talking. Hell, he was pretty sure none of the owners had ever even made a memo. It had always been him. But a pre-recording inside the company and a live interview in which he was being… well…. pressed by the press, that got on the middle-aged man’s nerves.

At least he now knew he would have never liked being a celebrity.

Regardless, his secretary Lory had told him that someone had recently come looking for a night guard position, so thankfully for Dave and him. Everything on the inside seemed to be going smoothly. Except for one thing.

The puppet, marionette, whatever the hell that thing was. Kept staring at him. At the parents and the security guards. Dave Miller had reported it trying to attack him when its music box wasn’t playing. And it was not hard to believe.

It would act perfectly in line when it came to giving presents in exchange for arcade tickets. But on occasion when the pizzeria was almost empty of customers. It would float along on invisible wires.

Mr. Newton felt rather safe when the toy animatronics would look at his face, he knew they were scanning for criminals and despite Dave having also claimed they were malfunctioning during the night, they seemed to work perfectly well during the day.

But the Puppet was older, almost ancient technology with how quickly computers were advancing. It did not have any facial recognition feature, but it stared all the same.

He had complained several times. But no one in upper management seemed to care about animatronics malfunctioning. Hell. They had even stopped sending repairmen down to fix Toy Foxy and had instead gone for the easy way out. Re-naming the poor thing “the Mangle” and calling it a day.

If a kid got zapped and the parents sued them, they didn’t seem to care. Since he would be the one to have to deal with the goddamn paperwork.

Chapter Text

One thing the two dudes could never escape was, that’s right, their fucking driving lessons. Their instructor was still feeling rather awkward, after the whole family debacle. And Michael was not in a great mood, having woken up early to watch the next episode of “Immortal & the Restless”. Despite having slept more than usual. He had left his blankets with misery and a sad goodbye.

He had let Jeremy take the wheel. Michael was desperately trying to not fall asleep, seeing as his instructor tried to ask him theory questions to keep him on his toes. He was also meant to note down If Jeremy made any driving mistakes. And correct them.

But he couldn’t help but lose consciousness to the world of dreams. A world of dreams that inevitably led to a world of nightmares for someone with Michael’s… everything, If he was being honest. Halloween and after usually led him to terrible memories. Once more, he was trapped, but this time things were slightly different.

A spindly-legged creature that slightly resembled the Puppet in face only was crawling through the house, stalking him like a vulture waiting for a sick horse to drop dead so that it could snack on him. Something that looked like foxy but had more limbs than it would be natural was hiding in the dark recesses of the room.

And burning demons were igniting the flames of a sin long forgotten. He ran past all of them into the hallway, evading the piercing gaze of a plastic boy. He got into one of the four closets and locked himself in not having noticed there was someone else behind him. A familiar hand started caressing his arm, going up his shoulder only for another hand to join in, only to start pressing down on his windpipe, blocking his air entryway.

He tried to tell Jeremy to stop, only to get even more choked up. He couldn’t make a sound. He woke up with a loud inhale. Realizing immediately that he had fallen asleep and was resting his neck against the seatbelt. Not the best or most comfortable posture.

His driving instructor looked at him with a disappointed glare, feeling too lazy to hit him in the head with the notes again. Eventually, it came time for Jeremy to park, on parallel this time, but after hearing his “driving buddy” whisper his name in the creepiest fucking tone imaginable while sleeping, he was feeling rather on edge, so on edge in fact, he missed it and got the car up into the pedestrian walkway, getting a similar glare to the one Michael had gotten while drifting off into dreamland.

When they exchanged places, Jeremy did not even think of trying to act like he wasn’t falling asleep. First of all, Michael had called him at freaking 6 am and then dragged him out of bed and school to explore his dad’s creepy basement.

Jeremy did not like that activity and the little information that he had gleaned from it (which to be honest, wasn’t very helpful but had led to the train of thought that his still ex-best friend’s dad could have tortured and killed his little sister while he was in the building, not very pleasant thoughts to have).

So he drifted off into sleep. Finding himself in the location that had been occupying his mind as off that morning. The original Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The corridors and the whole locale were empty, but it still was illuminated as If it was day. It was like his brain had eliminated all of the superfluous details.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw a slender silhouette walking about, And without much thought or self-preservation, he followed it to a square empty room. His mind felt hazy, but he recognized 4 children who seemed to be sleeping on the floor. One by one what he recognized as the puppet put an animatronic mask on each child’s head. Making their bodies suddenly jerk into uneven motions. Before Jeremy could get a closer look, Fredbear appeared in the middle of the room, quickly jumping at him with his maws wide open.

The guy awoke with very little regard for where he was, immediately regretting his sudden jolt when his head crashed with the front seat, making Michael stop the car in its tracks, and making their instructor even madder at the two. He made Michael park on a charge and discharge zone, took the wheel himself, and carried them back to the spot where he had picked them
“You are old enough to come with a better attitude than that! Now get on going!” And so he drove off into the sunset.

Michael was a bit devastated, but sadly for his sanity, Jeremy did not give him any room to grief because, unlike Michael, he hadn’t forgotten his dream. A dream that Michael was too tired to try and interpret.

Of course, Jeremy did not give up on trying to convince a very sleepy Michael that his father had stuffed the children into Freddy and Friends like they were the cream in velvet muffins, like the filling in tacos, like… they had not eaten anything since that morning.

Still hungry and unable to process the gruesome things Jeremy had described to him using food analogies, Michael entered Circus Baby’s entertainment and rentals, trying hard not to think of robots with children’s corpses while doing his job.

But the note his father had left him kept nagging at him. Fix his sister, “fix”. Michael had not fixed a thing in his life. The closest thing he had done to that had been beating up the vending machine at high school so hard the poor thing started working properly out of fear. It had not improved his reputation, since people were thankful but at the same time were afraid of how hard he had kicked the poor apparatus.
Over 2 dollars.

In his defense he had worked hard to get those 2 dollars, Freddy’s locations weren’t particularly pleasant to work in. He had had to remind the general manager Mr. Newton to pay him his paycheck several times. Michael suspected that the guy was just hoping he would forget. Sly bastard.

He was always talking about his son and how good of a child he was, but whenever he would visit he was a fucking nightmare, hitting the employees (lightly, but it still hurt Michael’s very little remaining dignity) and being a very messy eater. He had once carried his entire pizza to the ball pit and everything ended up covered up in grease and cheese.

Who knew what could be at the bottom of that pit? When they had finally gotten around to cleaning the damn thing at the end of their shift, the balls at the bottom seemed to have all been clumped together into a big solid mass, a mass that none of their grease-clean formulas or sprays could undo. In the end, they had to call in the manager, and after making the calculations of how much it would cost to either a) Get a professional crew to come and clean it and b) Just straight up replace it, he opted to instead calculate c) how much getting sued for it would cost. And so the thing was never replaced.

It was also kinda funny how he would never recognize Michael despite him only changing his name slightly. Either he looked very average despite having a British accent or Mr.Newton did not remember any of his employees, at all.

He also tended to misplace files, making Michael’s “covert” retrievals of them rather easy once he localized the archive. He saluted good old Carl, who had entertained himself with a… was that a fucking Playboy magazine? At work? What the hell?

Michael chose to ignore that fact and went straight to the elevator not wanting to start a conversation when the guy had his mind in the gutter. The “talk” If you could call it that and already been awkward enough with his father. After informing his father that yes, they had at least reached the birds and the bees' explanation in school, he proceeded to drunkenly hold Michael by the shoulder and vent to him. “You know son, I don’t know If you have noticed… but your father here did not want to end up getting stuck with a no-good family in the middle of fucking Utah, I had dreams! I was gonna innovate in robotics as no one had seen before, but you know, then I got your mother pregnant and her parents called…”

Michael couldn’t help but think it was too much information, he had already accepted long ago that his parents had fucked, but he didn’t want to know the details. Sadly for him, his still-drunk father was holding onto his shoulder like a bird of prey. And he wasn’t gonna let Michael go.

“So son, hear me this, 1. Don’t fall in love with anyone, 2. Don’t leave anyone fucking pregnant, 3. … No, that was all my advice. And then he fucking left for the car. Leaving Michael on the couch confused.

Thankfully for Michael, he did not need to worry about that, because he didn’t even like girls… yet. He was just a late bloomer that’s all. He had too many things to worry about during his teens anyway, bullying his brother, killing his brother, working for his father, and investigating his father. He didn’t have time for such shenanigans as girls.

Finally, after the fucking bongo music stopped, he arrived at the rental facility. The animatronics of the facility were, definitely quirky. Or as his old manager would like to describe “they had some kinks”.

The worst part was that he had started to associate the facility's Hand Unit device with him. They didn’t have the same voice, but they used the same corporate mumbo-jumbo everyone in that god-forsaken franchise had to use. “Blah Blah dismemberment” “Blah Blah toilet Bonnie” “Blah Blah not-responsible”.

So in an act of defiance that day, instead of listening and attempting to do what that wretched voice told him to do, Michael did for the first time in a long time something he hadn’t done in a while, disobeying his father. (Well, he had disobeyed him earlier when he went into the basement, now that he bought about it, maybe he was finally getting into that rebellious teen phase everyone was always talking about).

He had been told he was a very good kid, apart from the whole violence and death. But doing your homework without protesting didn’t seem like such an upside when you put it against “murdering your brother when you were just trying to hurt him as a prank (trademark Afton LLC.)”

So into Circus Gallery’s Control module, he went despite Hand Unit having told him it was an unnecessary stop. The animatronics his father had built weren’t exactly comforting, much less when they were currently dismembered like Ballora was. But at least Michael knew where she was.

Not knowing where (according to the description) a 7-foot metallic menace was, deeply perturbed him. It felt like those documentaries where a nocturnal predator hunts for its daytime prey, unaware of their presence completely, it falls into its claws without a chance to escape.

Sadly, despite checking the lights and the stage area, no one was there, or so he thought until a voice echoed from the walls. He didn’t recognize her at first, but the cadence, the tone, it felt almost identical. Like someone had stolen her voice and fed it to a machine.

Could his father have done that? To his daughter? Was she even inside? She didn’t seem to recognize her older brother and she talked about her death as If it had happened to someone else. If only he had been allowed to go to her last birthday party. If only he hadn’t been an idiot…

He thought about responding to her, but the words were caught in his throat and brain. Was that what he was supposed to fix? How? He had only even gotten a vague idea of what it was. With his brain still scattered and unable to see what might have been his sister anywhere, he left to continue with his tasks. Maybe he would find more answers from the other characters.

So he did what he had to do. Avoid the rabid Pink Foxy, avoid the crazy bear and his stupid marionette, and ignore the smell of blood emanating from the floor of Funtime Auditorium. Everything was going pretty well, he even had extra time that night, enough at least to hopefully go back to the Circus Control Room and try to get more information about Elizabeth, If she even was there.

Maybe he had gone mad.

Sadly for Michael, Funtime Foxy seemed to have different plans that night.

Jeremy at first didn’t think anything of Michael not showing up at school. The guy had been cranky about his sleep schedule the previous noon, so he had guessed he had weighed his chances and slept through the school day.

When he got concerned was when at noon, he didn’t arrive at his driving lesson. He was paying it out of his pocket, so it didn’t make sense that he would miss that, not when it was $50 a session. Jeremy and the instructor remained silent while waiting for him, probably still remembering their less-than-dazzling conversations in the previous sessions.

But apparently, the guy still managed to get bored, and nearing the 45-minute mark of what should have been Michael’s part of the exam, he started a conversation. Much to Jeremy’s dismay.

“Sooooooooooooo… do you think your friend is working an early shift for once?” The instructor innocently asked while tilting his head. Maybe he thought it was cute, but it looked rather puzzling for a 7-foot guy in his mid-fifties. At least in Jeremy’s opinion.

Maybe he was younger and had aged badly? The world would never know.

“First of all, we are no longer friends, and second of all, If I knew I wouldn’t be here waiting in the cold November air outside of the car with you, of all people.” The instructor was visibly offended but Jeremy wasn’t particularly faced or amused.

He had wanted to get Michael to agree to break into wherever Fazbear was keeping those old animatronics and open them up like nuts. But the bastard hadn’t shown up and he was pretty sure he had been ignoring him when he told him about his “very logical discovery” yesterday.

Thinking about it a bit harder, he guessed that maybe he would need to work there on Sunday before being able to figure out where the wicked things where. He doubted Fazbear would have them somewhere where the public could see.

He was thankfully also pretty sure they wouldn’t throw those things away, they had probably cost a fortune in materials. But If they had thrown them away his little investigation would be done for.

Hopefully, Cassidy could wait a bit more. Wherever she was.

He was sure her time was over, but other rumours had been running around town, and they weren’t good. Four children had been reported missing. One more than last time, parents were starting to lose hope and authorities were being called into action by several of the outspoken townspeople. Of course their answers would be “No-comment” and “We are working on it!”.

William Afton had also mysteriously banished from his son’s life that week. What a coincidence. For once in recent memory he was glad he had retaken his relationship with his best friend.

Even If the reasoning was more utilitarian than sentimental. Or so he liked to believe it to be.

Chapter Text

“Keep looking! We can’t leave until we’ve found him!” a worried Carl Prescott had repeated that evening. The most recent hire had not clocked in that evening, and at first, he simply thought the kid had thrown the towel like many more before him. He had checked the employee tracking clock that evening before leaving, just in case, only to be horrified to find out Michael hadn’t clocked out that morning.

At first, he had hoped he had forgotten in his hurry, but still, just in case, he made his younger brother Mars check the security cameras on the upper floor for him. The last time they had captured Michael had been 11:55 p.m. the previous day. Carl couldn’t help but worry, and much to his brother’s protest, the two of them had made their way down to the rental facility to search for Michael.

Mars had a little girl of his own, and he could see that his brother loved her with all of his heart as his niece. But he knew he had wanted children of his own, and for some reason, he seemed to have latched onto Michael. Despite him almost being an adult.

He had been unlucky in love, and in his words “he was too old to be a father”. Sadly for Mars, this meant that Michael, being his brother’s weird pseudo-replacement for a son, was leading them right into what he liked to call “the lion’s den”. As the daytime engineer of the place he would usually transport and maintain the robots in good condition for children’s parties, but he only would have to deal with one robot at a time.

He wouldn’t deal with them all in the same location even If the owner himself said that he would pay his mortgage off. No use having a paid house If you were dead. But here he was, getting dragged around by his older brother like they were still kids.

At least he had managed to convince his brother of a simple fact, they would search the place until 1 a.m. After that, they would leave and come back the next morning to search for the boy. He wasn’t putting his life at risk when he had a kid to feed at home.

Or so he thought…

Isabella was having the time of her life hiding from her mother. Much to her boredom, her mom had taken her to a big outlet warehouse to search for new summer clothes that were now in discount due to not having sold during the season. Of course, Isabella did not care about discounts, instead choosing to see the store as a huge play place.

Her hiding spot was phenomenal this time. She had hidden inside a circular clothing rack full of the fluffiest technicolor coats plastic could give you. They were fluffy and comfy and hid her from the view of the employees. She loved to play in those clothing racks, much to her mother’s dismay.

She couldn’t help but giggle at having gotten her way out of her mom’s weird questions. “Do you like this one?” “pink looks so good on you!” “I think you need more jumpers” “Do you need more shoes?” “Does it fit?” It was so boring. She just wanted to go back to playing doctor with her plushies.

Sadly for the little girl, someone else had noticed her giggle. At first, she was scared that an employee had seen her, but instead what she found puzzled her. It was Spring Bonnie! Her favorite character!

She didn’t remember much about him, she was very little when Fredbear's closed. But she still had a plushie of him and he was her favourite. Always sat at the center of the table when her plush animals would have discussions about how to detain Mr. Whiskers, the marvelous cat thief who would steal all their candy every Sunday when everyone was in church.

Her mom said people who didn’t go to church were bad, and that was why Mr. Whiskers was a double baddy. Spring Bonnie on the other hand was a very good citizen, the restaurant he owned with his pal Fredbear would close every Sunday. And they would both go to church together, with their kids!

Her mother had been pretty mad about that. But Isabella did not understand why friends couldn’t have kids.

Spring Bonnie sounded just like she remembered him from when she was 3! Or so she thought. He did not ask any questions and just simply told her to follow him. She of course complied, because disobeying your elders was wrong! And she was a very well-behaved lady!

So she followed Spring Bonnie! Followed him until they reached the newly opened Freddy’s location. There he gave little Isabella free pizza, and she ate it with delight, having gotten hungry from their stroll downtown. And faster than she thought, she started to feel tired. She asked, “I want to go back to my mom, I’m sleepy…”

But before Spring Bonnie could answer her request, her head fell for the last time.

He had gathered 1 for each of the new creations of Fazbear Entertainment. One soul for one body. He just needed enough time to stuff them in to see with his own eyes how it worked. During his shift, he had been witness to where the bodies that were about to condemn him had ended up.

Perhaps the little shits had somehow crawled undead inside their favorite characters? Or perhaps it was some form of divine intervention? He needed to know. Circus Baby had demonstrated to him with wonderful results that possession was possible. But it had been forceful and by design, it hadn’t been a miracle.

A shame that his daughter had to be the one to pay the price for that knowledge.

His experiment had become more complicated to attend to when the old animatronics started to move on their own after his first kill that week. Despite not being able to see anymore, he could feel a stare coming from Withered Bonnie, despite his eyes being no more.

He didn’t get a moment of respite anymore during the night. But that would soon change. He had been told that they had found a replacement. And while at first, he had thought that his plan would be better carried during the night, he now couldn’t fail to see how beneficial daytime’s banal nature would be.

It would be as easy to do so as taking a lollipop from a kid, especially with him being the only security guard on the premises full-time. Although he was getting rather tired of having to deal with the damned animatronics and their stupid security measures.

It would all be worth it in the end.

The only thing that could get in his way was the “kitchen staff”. The current manager told them that despite the current location not having a kitchen due to the architecture student they had hired “forgetting” to put one in. A mistake that the board members somehow managed to overlook when approving the project's budget.

Apart from meaning that the people who had replaced William were somehow more moronic than the man who had sunk his own business with child murders, this also meant that the kitchen staff wasn’t confined to a static place within the “pizzeria”.

They had to constantly come in and out of the restaurant to deliver the pizza, which was cooked at another local restaurant, then put in branded boxes and carried by a running underpaid teenager going back and forth between locations. This meant that William would need to be on the lookout for said teens, the parents, and other children who might unknowingly snitch on his body snatching.

Chapter Text

Carl and Mars Prescott had barely slept that night. His wife had been frantically looking for Isabella with the police. And they had eventually contacted him and his brother after finding nothing.

One of the employees had been combing through the security footage. And eventually, the high-as-a-kite teenager managed to find something.

It was hard to miss a yellow bunny suit. So Fazbear’s current CEO had been contacted, as the suit belonged to his company. But he of course denied everything. Claiming that some undesirable must have broken into the defunct Fredbear’s Family Dinner and snatched one of the costumes.

Still, the police were rather unhelpful. They said the rabbit guy might have simply been a coincidence, and that apart from the timeframe, nothing else linked the two incidents at the store.

There was no footage of the two together and besides, they had said. Kids run away all the time! She could be hiding at her friend's house or in a park. It was too early to know.

Reluctantly, the parents and uncle agreed to wait a bit to see If Isabella would come home on her own. Mars Prescott wasn’t willing to go to work, but his wife convinced him that If Isabella returned, they still needed to have the house, the card, and the money to pay for her college.

So he reluctantly went. Carls on the other hand had completely forgotten about the other missing person that he was looking for the previous day. The adrenaline was still pumping through his being.

The first order of the day was to look at how Scooped Ballora was faring. So he went straight for the scooping room. But instead of Ballora’s dismantled endoskeleton, what he found both elated him and confused him.

It was the missing Michael, passed out inside of a partially opened prototype Spring-Lock suit. It had been deemed too heavy and too unstable during the opening day, Having snapped one of the operator’s fingers even before any party began.

From what little he could tell the teenager seemed mostly intact. Besides a few scratches around his face. As If he had tried to claw his way out. Or during the night he guessed, keep something out.

Carefully with the help of his wrench, he put the spring-locks in a fixed costume position. Allowing him to get the still-unconscious Michael out of the death trap his boss liked to keep in the room “just in case”.

He left Michael on the table, while he recovered Ballora’s casing and any part he could find. It seemed like part of her endoskeleton had run away again. But before going on his quest to retrieve the mangled animatronic, he wanted to make sure Michael at least got taken home.

Thankfully, before the guy could try carrying the rather frail boy like a potato sack, Michael came back to life, startled as If from a nightmare. He thought for a moment before getting down from the table and Walking robotically towards the room's exit.

“Thank you,” he said.

Carl couldn’t help but feel a chill up his spine when he realized the boy’s eyes were as dead as that of a doll. No shine or youthful intent in them. Only resignation.

He did not push the boy to open up about the night. Settling on watching him slowly leave. Finally, certain the boy was out of harm's way, good old Carl started on his duty of getting what was left of Ballora back together again.

The minireenas had fallen inactive not far from the scoping room, but Ballora was nowhere to be found.

He called out for Mars, but he didn’t answer. He probably was already doing the scheduled maintenance on Funtime Foxy. He went to flick open the auditorium light in the gallery but was met with nothing, not even a missing cable or cord.

So then he looked up, incentivized by a movement between the ceiling cables. Hopefully, it was simply rats.

In the meantime, Jeremy Fitzgerald was not having the time of his life. Sadly.

He was instead looking incredibly suspicious by sitting alone in the school cafeteria (that bastard Michael had called saying he wasn’t “up for the day” whatever that meant).

Of course, sitting alone in the cafeteria wasn’t the only reason why he looked suspicious. He just hoped that everyone thought all of the maps and newspapers were for homework he hadn’t done instead of “trying to catch my ex-best friend’s father in fraganti of murdering kiddos”.

He needed to think of a shorter name for this operation. Maybe he would have to ask Michael, but he felt in his bones that knowing him, his idea would be somehow even worse.

Probably something like “We WILL catch AM criminal”. Or a movie reference like “No one can hear you scream in my father’s basement”. Well, at least he couldn’t get called a conspiracy theorist by him since they both believed the same thing.

Sadly, a certain someone did not find his lonely suspicious behaviour acceptable enough to leave him alone. Dean.

Dean, who had neither attended Evan’s or Cassidy’s funerals. Dean, who had refused to take any responsibility for being involved in the incident. Dean, whom Jeremy still resents way too deeply for having stolen one of his shoes in second grade. It was very difficult to chase someone with one foot.

Needless to say, a deep frown was already visible on Jeremy’s forehead before Dean even opened his mouth. While Michael was violent in a rather sad and pathetic way (in Jeremy’s opinion mind you), Dean’s violence was different. You could smell his scent of “I am better than you” cologne from a mile away. Michael just kinda smelled like a sad, wet, dog.

Even as he sat in front of a bent-over Jeremy, who was trying his hardest to concentrate on the stuff on the table and not give the bastard in front of him attention. Dean couldn’t help but straighten his back so that even when sat, he could still look down on him. Jeremy was on the verge of changing his mind about this attempt at “dominance” being somehow more pathetic than Michael’s random bursts of misplaced anger.

Then much to Jeremy’s dismay Dean, having not grown up an inch since they had parted, stole his duck tape and held it up above his head. Still looking down at him in defiance.

Jeremy couldn’t help but give his other friend the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed, dude.” look that he had learned from his father. And continued working as If he wasn’t there.

Sadly for Jeremy, Dean found not being paid attention to be offensive. And proceeded to dump all of Jeremy’s notes and scraps onto the floor with a swipe of his arm.

“What do you want, Dean?” Jeremy had finally given up, no longer having anything to stare down at to ignore Dean.

“Where is Michael?” he asked with a smile that betrayed no good intentions, and eyes that didn’t emote. Jeremy chose to amuse him and looked from side to side, with a surprised face that even their theatre teacher would call exaggerated.

“Oh my god! you are right! The bastard isn’t here, such a shame nobody seems to miss him but you.” Ah, that was more like it, Dean’s face looked better when he wasn’t smiling.

“Ok, stop fucking around! I know you have been close lately, Do you miss the blood on your face, Fitzgerald?” Trying to not punch the boy in front of him was becoming increasingly difficult for Jeremy.

“Do you? Derrick? Just because you washed your hands off of the affair doesn’t mean you weren’t there.” A stare-off ensued, sadly they didn’t have guns to shoot each other’s brains out when the countdown ended.

Before the tension could be broken, a young pre-puberty voice called out for Dean in an annoying manner. A 16-year-old approached him from behind next to the last member of the group. Save for Michael this was looking like a group reunion.

“I don’t pay you to go around talking to nobodies! Come! I need to ask Susan about homework” The frail-looking teen demanded. Dean looked unimpressed, but he still complied.

“Coming Elon, I was just catching up with an old friend” replied Dean annoyed.

“I don’t pay you to catch up, I pay you to bodyguard me!” an increasingly angry Elon Musk replied. The pay must have been good because Dean got up despite not having gotten to do anything “fun” with Jeremy. Of course not before throwing in a random insult.

“Farewell, lopette!” Derrick Jr. must have been paying attention in French class lately it seems.

He couldn’t help but look at the watch in the dining area with the hope that time would speed up so that it would be afternoon already.

He went straight to a certain someone’s home when the bell rang. And he didn’t even give his merciful host a minute of respite before cutting to the chase.

“Hey dude, how did your shift go?”

“fine”

“Fine? Fucking fine?! What the fuck do you mean fine you didn’t show up at all yesterday and then you say you can’t come to fucking school today.” Jeremy takes a deep breath filled with the rage of about forty German shepherds.

“And I! I! With my own time, come to your house to talk to you! And all I get is a monosyllabic fine."

“You better tell me what the fuck happened yesterday or…” Jeremy holds his breath, clearly thinking of an appropriate punishment. Thinking about something to blackmail Michael with was difficult, seeing as his reputation was already in the mud.

“Or what? Jeremy?” Michael asked. Having easily read how puzzled Jeremy was on how to follow up the threat. Fitzgerald’s mind raced as he discarded most of the violent things Michael had done since no one would care and they were relatively minor in comparison to what people already knew he had done.

Then he started going down the list of dumb things he had done when they were best friends, a long list considering Michael’s lack of brain cells and gullibility. There were many times he had jumped off a ledge, high place, or into a dangerous body of water simply because someone else had told him it was fun. Then there were the times they had convinced Michael of saying dumb shit to embarrass him, since at least back then it used to be pretty easy to damage his pride.

And then he remembered the mess that was Fallfest 82’ for everyone involved. Michael somehow grew slightly paler as he also seemed to realize what was at stake.

“Well, I might not have much ammunition that would wound you, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want people finding out what you were doing in Halloween of 82’ instead of scaring younger kids as usual. Oh, wait! It wasn’t you! How was it? Miss Michelle?” Jeremy couldn’t help but smirk at both the memory and the fact he seemed to have gained some leverage over the situation.

He still wouldn’t rat on Michael, unlike Dean he kept his promises and stood by his decisions. But Michael didn’t need to know that. Especially now that they had been enemies for the last 4 years. He was sure Michael wasn’t about to take his chances, but neither was Jeremy knowing that what had happened last night was bad enough to keep Michael from telling him what had happened.

He remembered Halloween of 82’ quite fondly even if it had been rather nerve-wracking at the time. Nothing quite put the fear of god back into your 11-year-old heart like hearing Michael’s father screaming bloody hell into the sky.

Michael was really into dressing up for Halloween and committing to the role. And 82’ was no different. But this time there had been a wrench thrown into his plan about a month before the celebration. They told Michael to his face that they had planned to all go as girls as a joke. It took quite a lot to convince him to shed the Michael Myers costume he had prepared for that year to “get in on the joke”.

Enough peer pressure had finally made Michael begrudgingly agree to it. What he didn’t know was that he was gonna be the only one crossdressing that Halloween. Jeremy had at first thought of it as a rather harmless prank before an arm had grabbed him into the hollow of a tree that day.

Jeremy immediately started to panic, thinking that some psycho had finally snapped and chosen to kill lil’ kids like himself in Utah of all places (Ah, the good old days when he thought serial killers were just native to California, New York & Florida). And then he started to panic even more when he looked into the terrifying face that was staring back at him with their eyes wide open.

Thankfully when the figure started wheezing maniacally after seeing his scared face, it took no time for Jeremy to recognize who the hell it was. Only one person he knew would laugh like a dying turtle choking on plastic. He expected Michael to look silly in the maid outfit that he had stolen from his grandmother, but as usual, he had given it his 110% to scare small children.

He looked like he had crawled out of the river after having drowned several children, and knowing him, some of the “natural grime and blood” as he liked to call it was because he had taken the outfit and wig into the freaking river. It didn’t help that his usual scary look and British accent made it believable that he was some random colonial period maid that was haunting the Fallfest. Even If the pink coloring was garish, it had been washed by the latter “special grime”.

The boy finally stopped laughing enough to get serious again. Whispering into Jeremy’s ear “You bloody bastards!” as loud as he allowed himself to go. Jeremy would have laughed If it wasn’t for the look of utter betrayal on who was at that time his best friend. So he simply stayed quiet.

“Ok, look. My father is here, he can’t see me like this. He can’t know I’m like this.” Michael gestured up and down wildly with his hands, showing off his costume. His voice was trembling.

“Look Jeremy, dude, I trust you ok. Just, tell Dean and George that I couldn’t make it last minute, whatever excuse will work. And don’t address me as Michael, just… at least save me the embarrassment until the next bus arrives and I can leave”. By that point, little Jeremy had started to feel a twinge of guilt gnawing at him. So he simply nodded and set off to follow the instructions.

Thankfully for Michael by the time Jeremy had made it to the meeting spot he had found Dean and George much more worried about a bigger problem than Michael not being there, his father being there instead. Jeremy remembers a wide arrange of colorful language being thrown around. Some of which he didn’t know but others he did.

“…I’ll let it slide this time you fucking mistakes, I will not tell your parents that you are fucking pretending to be fairies-” He was in his opinion very rudely cut by Dean’s voice cracks.

“-But Mr. Afton!” Jeremy couldn’t see it from afar, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what face Mr, Afton was making to shut up The Dean Derrick.

“Shut up! Shut up and listen to me very attentively. If you don’t wanna end up like cock sucking faggots when you grow up… Oh! Now you are paying attention? good. If you don’t want to end up like dying godless bitches on the street, you both will refrain from fooling around. Understood?”

Their words flattened like asphalt, and the two boys nodded vigorously. "Good, I already have enough with my stupid son, I don’t need the town turning into a Freakshow!” The two of them only started breathing again when Mr. Afton left muttering “I need a drink”.

Jeremy decided to wait a bit for the tension to leave George’s and Dean's faces before giving them the “bad news” that Michael hadn’t come. But in the meantime, Jeremy at least understood why Michael was so afraid of his father finding him in his current clothes.

Thankfully his friends were contemplating leaving after Michael’s father had caught them playing gay chicken. They had failed by accident, hence Mr. Afton’s anger.

He had spent that Fallfest with just the costumed Michael, and had been a bit sad the fun had been cut short when the bus arrived. But most importantly, he still had photos from the Photo Booth at the festival. Michael did not want the photos saying they were embarrassing, but Jeremy had kept them. Although he had promised not to show them to anyone.

“You wouldn’t.” Michael finally broke the silence. Ending Jeremy’s reminiscing and challenging him.

A bit of fake blackmail was a low price to pay. At least in Jeremy’s eyes. But considering how much Michael had started sweating as If fighting internally over whether he wanted to preserve what little dignity he had left or tell Jeremy what had happened, Jeremy started to doubt If he wanted to know after all.

Finally, Michael’s shoulders relaxed, and even though he was still trembling slightly, he started to narrate his daylight findings to his partner in the investigation.

“Ok, I’m just gonna tell it like ripping a bandaid off.” He took a deep breath and started to talk really fast.

“So the animatronic Circus Baby kidnapped me, You know the one who was like 'I killed your sister' and sounds just like her? She started talking about pretending and stuff and… Oh! She also put me in a spring-lock suit, Do you know what a spring-lock suit is?”

Michael paused for a few seconds and Jeremy had to put his brain into hyperdrive to nod fast enough to detain the teen from going on a tangent.

“Ok, so she put me in one of those while the freaky ballerina was getting dismantled by a spoon. And then her eyes, the ballerina, not the clown, stared into me and little wooden dolls were trying to get down my throat to have fun with my internal organs. That’s just a supposition though.” He took another breath.

“What I’m saying is that I don’t think that freaky bitch is my sister but I’m fucking certain she is dangerous and killed her… But I still have the feeling that my sister is inside of her, but like she’s lost.” He finally finished and Jeremy was, to be honest still trying to process the first paragraph.

“Ok, your shift ends this Friday, mine starts this Sunday, Try to grab anything valuable from that place before quitting for good. You are of no use If you are dead. Just get the fuck out of there dude.”

Satisfied Jeremy switched the conversation to what they were gonna do Sunday night. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something big was gonna happen on Friday night.

Hopefully, things would turn out alright.

Chapter Text

Michael’s head seemed to be brimming with thought on his way to what would hopefully be his final shift at Circus Baby’s Entertainment and Rentals. It had been a rough day and what little he had slept had been nothing but a nightmare and a particularly gnarly one at that.

He was in the living room watching the start of “Tombs of the Blind Dead” when two hands posed themselves on his shoulders and started gripping him. Making him unable to leave the sofa. He couldn’t see his father’s face, but he somehow knew he was smiling.

Then he noticed someone sitting beside him on the sofa, also watching the television. His mother was now holding his hand, frozen in time in 85’. Her eyes were permanently closed even as she whispered at him.

“We are a normal family, aren’t we Michael? unlike those filthy fucking queers polluting the streets of Utah.” She turned to face him with a blank expression.

“Or we would be If it wasn’t for you!” she cackled, and his father joined her. From the doors to each side of the living room, two figures emerged.

His sister's mangled corpse entered first, barely able to crawl in its compacted form, Her red hair came out from her thoracic cage, and her neck bent downwards making it seem like she had no head. Her knees had been bent inward into her abdomen. Making her look even smaller than she was.

But what made Michael freeze in place was his brother’s sight. His head was tilted to the side and from its open wound, a rotten maggot-filled liquid fell to the floor. His eyes were also gone, replaced by vacant holes. He walked in a slow and uncoordinated manner towards his brother.

“Why? Why should you live when you are nothing but filth.” Gregory whispered, now his guts dripping onto Michael’s shoes. Making his socks wet. His sister attempted to give her two cents, but all that came from her broken mouth was gurgling blood.

They got closer and closer and much to Michael’s dismay, his parents were holding him firm like a roller coaster lap bar. He couldn’t get out. His brother put a hand down his throat getting a good hold of his sibling’s internal organs and then he pulled.

He woke up that afternoon with a scream that could rival that of a banshee. Urging his unconcerned neighbor to throw a shoe at his window telling him to keep it down. “Some of us have work tonight.”

After making sure the poor window was in good condition, he got up and was sadly greeted by the incessant ringing of the doorbell. And after a good old chat with his good old friend, he was sure he wasn’t gonna get any good night’s sleep.

When he arrived at the facility’s entrance he found himself puzzled at the absence of both Carl and Mars Prescott. At least one of them was usually on the ground floor of the bunker. He looked at the clock and after making sure the time was correct became concerned.

In the elevator, he started to panic. Hoping that nothing bad had taken place during the dayshift. As usual, he ignored handunits blabbering as he was making up a panicked plan about how to search for them without getting killed.

Unthankfully for Michael, his concerns were answered when the hand unit instructed him to “check-up” on Funtime Foxy and Ballora.

Instead of the chrome nightmares he had gotten used to, he found the mangled faces and necks of Carl and Mars staring right at him through the security windows. He forced himself to hold his breath as he realized they could be anywhere.

Lost and attempting to not look in the direction of his now-deceased coworkers, He heads towards parts and service, surprised when all he hears in the dark vents and halls is deadly silence and the mechanical rhythm of boilers and generators.

he arrived at his destination and proceeded to freeze when he stepped through the boundary that was putting distance between him and the ginormous Circus Baby animatronic.

It was massive, and it had eaten his sister. But her size meant that she definitely could eat him if he wanted to. He stood there for what felt like an hour.

Eventually, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and in it, he found that the eyes of the animatronic were empty. Her slumped posture also made her look boneless, as If she had been deactivated or emptied.

Emptied like a tub of ice cream.

He remembered Ballora the previous night and the scooping room. He didn’t know what it meant, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good. And then, a voice was heard, seemingly coming from Baby herself.

“Can you hear me?” Michael’s blood froze like that of a bloody arctic lake.

The wretched thing gave vague instructions and she excused her empty shell as more of her “pretending”. Perhaps something had malfunctioned yesterday and her mask had slipped, but she wasn’t getting his trust or hope back. Michael was at least sure of that.

He began ignoring all of the bullshit the clown was saying. It was starting to remind him of his father when he would go on and on, drunk and nonsensical. She was clearly the work of “daddy” dearest. Not that Michael had ever been granted the honor of addressing him informally, unlike his deceased sister.

This was but the final nail in her empty coffin.

“Enter the code carefully.” He did what he was told, more out of what little survival instinct he had left, the view of his coworker’s fresh carcasses was flashing across his vision as If it were a photograph. He wondered briefly how they had died, before forcing his dull sleep-deprived brain to pay attention to his surroundings for once in his life.

He wouldn’t be able to find out If he died like them.

Circus Baby gave him the code “19701031” to insert inside of her. Allowing Michael to retrieve a card? He would need to remember to show it to Jeremy. Maybe he would know someone with computer skills. Or better yet, someone with access to computers.

After sending Circus Baby towards the scooping room, he got so distracted he ended up not following her instructions correctly. He ended up taking a left or right incorrectly. He did not know what it was, but something behind him was not particularly pleased.

He ended up making a run for the last fifty meters. Praying that god knew what wouldn’t catch up to him. He ended up running straight into a door. Producing a bang that echoed around Funtime Auditorium.

With his head still throbbing, he did not waste any time passing every single one of the keycards he had in his pockets. And before he could get mauled, he opened and closed the door behind him with a loud bang.

Finally, with enough time for the adrenaline to leave and the pain to start, he posed himself against the door. Mostly to ground himself rather than to be an obstacle for the thing outside to surpass.

He had also somehow hurt his knees and knuckles upon the impact. He looked around only to find himself in a very strange office. It looked like the ones he had seen in his part-time jobs at the various Fazbear locations, but bigger and colder.

He judged that it must have been his father’s office. Gregory’s plush was positioned comfortably next to the monitors, Walkie-Talkie in hand. Michael then noticed a keypad and tried various combinations for curiosity's shake.

He knew his father’s credit card number was “1970” so he assumed it would be some kind of year as well. He tried “1971” mostly because it was the year he and his mother had gotten married (he knew his father well enough to know he would rather forget Michael’s birth year).

He then attempted Elizabeth’s, Cassidy’s, and his mother’s birth years. But seeing as it yielded no results he eventually gave up. Sitting in the relatively comfortable office chair as he stared back at the Fredbear plush his little brother had loved so much.

Slightly concerned at the idea that had occurred to him, Michael entered the year that was still inscribed on his brother’s tombstone. Right after the day he was born. He entered “1983” into the keypad and the office turned alight.

In the monitor screens, he found a sight that chilled him even more than the metallic cold of the office. It was the fake house he had seen a glimpse of in the boiler room map. It was left just like he had remembered it. Not a speck of dust.

Before he could process what that week of torment meant for himself and others. Michael’s crisis was interrupted by a voice that did not seem too pleased with him.

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Fuck, it was inside. Michael panicked and locked the doors and vent instantly, trying desperately to keep whatever had come inside out while he searched for it in the cameras.

He found the abomination walking or better said tumbling across the left hall. Its multiple eyes looked at the cameras as If saying “I see you”. Eventually, Michael noticed the power rapidly reducing and forced himself to open up the vent and right door. Much to the dismay of his panicking heart.

And thus began a game of cat and mouse. The abomination would taunt Michael, first using Circus Baby’s voice, then Elizabeth’s, then on rare occasions his father’s. But sometimes its true self would talk in an uncanny “We”. And whoever “we” was, seemed dissatisfied with the outcome of the night.

Michael seemed to have unintentionally ruined their plans. And after a certain point, getting comfortable in the office he got cocky enough to talk back.

“Isn’t this why you came here? To be with me again?” the creature mimicried, as it limped through the ventilation system. Right before shutting the door in its face, Michael replied;

“You will never be my sister.” After the vent was shut, Michael could hear what sounded like a chorus of agony, different voices crying for an escape. An escape through his flesh.

He continued blocking the way of the starving beast while slowly worrying more and more about the dwindling power. Now at such a low percent that he was sure the whole building was about to shut down.

But as the clock struck the dawn of the sun, the facility entered its daytime mode, signaling that hopefully, the clean-up crew would arrive any following minute. Or so Michael hoped.

With luck, they had managed to not get murdered.

He continued to face the onslaught of the animatronic menace. Finally, the emergency door he had gone through opened up once more with the slide of a keycard.

Leading a very confused woman to peek inside with her eyebrow raised. She was wearing a white uniform and seemed to be judging him. Their stare-off continued until the abomination decided to salute the madam by peeking its half-clown-masked face through a door. Making the lady scream bloody murder.

Michael pushed past her and before his frazzled brain could fully send him into a fear-flight response, he closed the door behind him. Screaming at the top of his lungs:

“RUN!” The echo resonated throughout the metallic auditorium. Informing through it or the screams of the woman that it was time to evacuate.

Most of the clean-up crew was already on the elevator before Michael or their coworker arrived, forced to wait for their escape by the slow machine more than by their morals. They got in by the skin of their teeth.

As the doors closed, Michael caught a glimpse of the colorful eyes belonging to the owner of the metallic footsteps that had followed them there. And almost as quiet as a whisper, barely audible between the gasps for air of the terrified crew, he heard it say “I will find a way out.”

A promise.

The ride up the elevator was rather awkward. A somber air hung in the claustrophobic space. Michael wondered If he would need to start a tangent about the weather. But he supposed that after having seen at least two hung men the crew of coworkers he had just met wouldn’t be in the mood.

The normalcy of the departure was almost jarring. As If all of them were simply following a script. The only one not bidding them goodbye was the woman who had rescued Michael earlier. Phone in hand probably informing the police about the Prescott brothers’ passing.

He wondered briefly whether he should stay or not, but eventually after seeing that no one was worried for him, he turned heel and started his walk back home to the metro station. Not like he knew any of these people anyway.

They probably didn’t know Carl or Mars Prescott either.

Did Michael even know them? Well, he knew what pornography Carl Prescott liked, so he guessed he did know too much and too little at the same time. But he wasn’t about to judge a dead man. At least not consciously.

Eventually, he arrived at his still-empty home. Maybe his father would finally come back and end his miserable existence once and for all after everything that had happened at his workplace. Or maybe Michael would get to see another day.

Regardless, he knew what to do with his time. He sat down on the old worn couch, which probably had various people and things blood soaked into its two years of unwashed glory, and many more years of use that not even bleach could erase. And put on his favorite show. Falling asleep to the familiar sound of marital bickering between Vlad and Clara.

But his dreams soon turned sour.

Chapter Text

The clock ticked, the television turned to static and Michael opened his eyes in confusion as his body failed to move from slumber. His frozen limbs failed to lift his form from the comfortable couch his mother used to sit in, and an uncomfortable antsy feeling took hold of his skin. All while a shadow made itself known from the corner of his right eye.

R.E.M. it was for his death.

The tumbling figure arrived in the living room. Scratching the wooden tiles his mother had taken so much time of her early marriage caring for. The animatronic amalgamation stomped on the cold popcorn that Michael had thrown to the floor earlier while asleep.

It kept getting closer and closer, scratching at his skin, and then as Michael tried to scream an eye went down his throat, and it said:

“Now there’s a little of our brain in your body”.

The scream Michael let out that morning after waking up informed his neighbor that it was time to throw another shoe at his window to tell him to “Shut the fuck up!”.

And with horror, the boy realized that he had gone to bed with his clothes on. And now they were filled with sweat. He was gonna have to do laundry again. Worst of all, he had exactly 2 hours before the grocery store closed to go get more detergent. If only the person who owned the house and was meant to keep him alive wasn’t absent and knew how to do grocery shopping.

Finances here, finances there, “Henry couldn’t see a dollar sign If it bit him in the ass.” but then he couldn’t tell that because one box had a lower price than the other it didn’t mean that it was cheaper, it just meant it had less food in it. That man couldn’t find a discount If his life depended on it.

Michael finally stopped looking at the ceiling as If it would make his indignation reach his father and got out of bed. Debating whether or not he should brush his hair before going to the store. But seeing as he was tired to the bone and wasn’t looking to impress the clerk lady in her 20s, he went all natural.

He failed to see the scratch marks left by last night’s nightmare on the living room floor. And he also failed to check for monsters under his bed. Michael was very much trying not to think that Saturday morning. At least not until Sunday when he would need to go back to one of his father’s locations.

What Michael thankfully did not fail to miss was the morning paper reporting several dead bodies yet unidentified. Unidentified to the police at least because Michael was sure he would remember that uniform for the rest of his life. It was the cleaners, all looking like something had ripped the skin straight from the bone.

He felt his stomach tighten at the realization he knew the people who had been brutally murdered but attempted to continue trying to appear normal while remembering the person he had murdered. Seeing as the store clerk was eyeing him as If he had clown paint on his face, he was failing miserably.

With a quick “thank you” and an unnecessary nod he flew into the streets. His appetite was gone. He ran and ran until he reached the house and then with a bang he closed the door behind him as he looked around ready to be attacked. But nothing came, at least not from the outside.

The basement door creaked.

Thinking very rationally (he would later tell Jeremy), Michael armed himself with an umbrella and positioned himself against the wall next to the open basement door. He listened very closely for any steps coming from downstairs and glanced toward the pendulum clock on the opposite wall.

He did not move a muscle for several hours, managing to get his back sore and his feet asleep. Eventually seeing as nobody was moving, he quietly moved towards the landline phone and called the only person he knew for backup. A certain blonde was pretty cranky after being woken up from his weekend-long beauty nap in preparation for Sunday night.

Some rhythmic knocks informed him that his auxiliary meat bag had arrived and after listening for noises down the basement, Michael left his post and invited his guest into the house.

“Wow dude, your face looks like shit.” Jeremy immediately said upon seeing Michael’s face once he opened the door. “Thank you, your knees are still bent bitch.” Michael responded filled with the courtesy and politeness of being insulted first thing in the… afternoon now. It had been a while.

“Well, I’m sorry, At least I’m not afraid to walk down the stairs with my deformed knees, asshole!” It was all in good fun, or so at least Michael hoped. They were healing, well, as much as you could heal the gaping mortal wound of an already dead corpse, that was currently more of a zombie than a friendship.

“Ok, the plan is, you go in the back with the heavy flashlight, I go in the front poking with the umbrella, If anything moves we get out and burn the fucking house down. Fuck my dad.” Jeremy looked at him unimpressed with the plan but picked up the flashlight regardless and asked a pretty obvious question.

“And where are you gonna live with your house burnt down, genius?” Michael shrugged and responded nonchalantly “Eh, better on the streets than with one of those mechanical bastards in my basement, I’ve had enough for a lifetime.” Jeremy simply continued to follow, hoping that his gut was right and that Michael was simply being paranoid as usual.

The pair started their descent down the stairs slowly, as previously agreed, Michael in the lead and Jeremy in the back. He doubted Michael’s umbrella would do much damage to any robot and he figured out that If something was in the hunt for them, it would have killed them by now, so much to his hunt buddy’s dismay. He decided to reminisce aloud.

“Man, remember when we were in that camp when we were little, and Dean told you that there were spiders to scare you, and since the cabin wood was full of black dots you couldn’t tell where it was?” Michael wasn’t sure If it was a rhetorical question or not but he answered anyway.

“Yes, I ended up sleeping on the cabin couch. And eventually realized it was a ploy so that he could sleep with Heather close by and do lord knows what.” He proceeded to groan both out of frustration and disgust at the foreign substances that might have made their way into the bed he had slept on.

“Ha ha, he got you good. But you know what they say. A man's gotta do what a man’s gotta do!” Jeremy tried to put a hand over his mouth to contain the laughter that overcame him from witnessing Michael’s scowl at his comment. But before he could his cursed bent knees decided it was time to once again fail him and send him barreling down below. A shout was all he heard before getting the air knocked out of him by the cement floor.

When he finally got out of the shock of the moment, he realized he had dragged Michael with him and that he was currently lying on top of him. And then, when he put his hands to the floor he noticed a thick liquid sticking to his flesh.

“SHIT!” he scrambled towards the flashlight as Michael groaned, his torso still under Jeremy’s legs. After getting a hold of it, he had the certainty of knowing that the mystery liquid was blood. He slapped Michael to see how bad the damage was, only to get a “Fuck you! You bloody twat!” in response from the ungrateful bastard.

Maybe he should have hit him again. But considering his legs were quickly pulled aside as the other teen rose, he was fine enough despite the blood loss. Careful not to slip in the gooey substance covering the floor, Jeremy got up as well, shining the flashlight directly at Michael while ignoring his swearing while in search of the cut.

But he couldn’t find anything. Eventually, Michael got done with his tomfoolery and revoked his flashlight privileges, handing him the umbrella instead. “I said I’m fine! God, you are dumber than me.” The both of them followed the mysterious trail while continuing to bicker only for it to cease suddenly. Michael was going to continue to search when Jeremy held his arm and gestured for him to shut up.

Offended but compliant, Michael did so, making a small dripping sound audible in the echo of the basement. It was falling from the ceiling. The flashlight continued to climb and climb until it landed on a face Michael could recognize. Although Jeremy’s shriek upon seeing the mangled corpse almost made him drop the tool.

Now the tables had turned and he was the one telling Jeremy to shut the fuck up. They still weren’t sure that whatever had killed her was gone. It was the lady from the clean-up crew who had gotten Michael out of the private room. She had not been decapitated, but her figure had been almost cut in two from the shoulder, making the quantity of blood that had spilled out of her feasible.

And to make things worse, the murder weapon was still in her, a fire ax that was keeping her corpse in place atop the ceiling’s beams.

“FUCK!”.

Half an hour later after the phone call to 911, the paramedics arrived, even though it was already too late. Minutes later the municipal police officers arrived to question them, then the firemen arrived to get the corpse out and one of the paramedics offered them stuff to clean themselves clean of the spilled blood.

A very kind fireman gave Michael his backpack containing his keys, wallet with all IDs, and some of his last clean clothes seeing as he’d been unable to do laundry as planned that Saturday. Then finally the national police arrived and took their testimonies again. Thankfully they believed the truth that the two of them knew nothing of it, seeing as it would be quite unbelievable how the two of them could have pulled the murder off.

Regardless, Michael’s comment about taking to the streets If his house burnt down was currently biting him in the ass. The police officer that had last taken his testimony was asking him If he had any other family to go to or somewhere with a friend where he could stay indefinitely.

His father was currently missing and untraceable so the direct family was out. He also didn’t know where his mother was. The closest thing he’d ever had was Henry Emily, but the man hated his guts and so did the last group of friends he’d had for the very same reason. So it seemed like social services were going to have to place him in a shelter or hostel for the time being. At least until his house stopped being investigated as the scene of a crime.

He and Jeremy got into an undercover police car with two officers. The older man who had questioned them previously and a younger blonde woman. The ride was awkward with the woman asking Jeremy questions about where his house was and the policeman thankfully concentrating on driving. Michael couldn’t help but think about his driving lessons while on the road.

yield, stop, left, right, intermittent, roundabout, and don’t use the claxon here. His thoughts about traffic conduct were unexpectedly interrupted by Jeremy Fitzgerald himself offering his home.

Which perplexed Michael and even the police officers. Before the boy could explain himself the woman chimed in “Oh, thank god! I was gonna feel awful about putting a young man like you to fend for himself alone in a shelter! I can sleep calmer tonight”.

And with that, the silence fell once again upon the police car, as Jeremy continued to guide them towards their first and last stop of the night.

A very worried Mrs Fitzgerald came out to greet her son only for him to have to awkwardly explain that he was staying with them indefinitely. Which the woman took way too well in Michael’s opinion. Not that he was gonna complain.

“Well, thank god we have a spare room for guests always at the ready, luck is on our side tonight son.” She continued to speak as they passed the living room, which was completely dark save for the television illuminating a figure Michael assumed was Mr. Fitzgerald. A glass reflected the light and was the only thing standing out from his droopy sad outline.

Through the stairs, they also passed a dusty door with faint letters that read “Cassidy”, their bright colors faded into dull browns and greens. It reminded Michael of his own home in a manner he didn’t quite enjoy. Especially before his mother left.

He had been to Jeremy’s house before on multiple occasions, although always during the day. His parents never let him stay past dinner and he never pushed it. So much had changed in five years.

The halls had been changed from a pastel yellow to a titanium white and all of the photographs that used to decorate the staircases had been hopefully stored somewhere, replaced by modern decorative abstract paintings. All in all the once warm home felt colder than ever. Before Michael knew it they had reached the guest room and the woman was gripping his shoulder with the force of a hundred lions.

“It is better that you both get a good night's rest after what happened today. Jeremy, I will explain to your father what happened while you go to bed, and you…” She paused in prolonged silence as If thinking about how to address the boy who once had been her son’s best friend and the teen who had murdered his little brother.

“…our guest of honor, you settle yourself into your room, and we will discuss the details of your stay at breakfast. It is at ten o'clock, so please use the alarm clock on the bedside.” She waited to see his reaction, so Michael simply nodded and muttered a quiet thank you before running away into what was going to be his new room.

A sigh was heard through the door before footsteps left. But Michael was sure of one thing, he wasn’t gonna sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Michael stood in the guest room feeling sick. The floor was creaky and he felt like every time he took a step someone in the house would wake up to yell at him. But no matter how much he moved back and forth towards the window, nobody came. No footsteps in the hallway or knocking on the door.

His nausea was confusing, it felt like he both wanted to vomit and just curl up on the floor and die. When his vision became blurry, he quickly sat down on the cold floor, making it creak even more.

With what little force he had he managed to drag himself from his room into the bathroom, briefly contemplating whether he should go into any of the doors to inform the family of what was happening. But his dizzy brain decided against it, not wanting to inconvenience the Fitzgeralds.

The floor was cold, and despite wanting to he couldn't bring himself to vomit, he was getting dizzier by the minute, and the mix of chemicals and odor coming from the toilet wasn’t helping it. Then he felt something crawl up his throat and he vomited bile, again and again just bile. He hadn’t eaten anything but he still felt something moving.

Michael got up, putting all of his weight into the sink, trying to somehow see past his throat into what was going on inside him. Despite the bathroom being dark, the light seemed to come out from his throat, before he could even panic about it, the teenager felt his limbs cease as his body hit the ground with force, knocking the glass holding the toothbrushes into the ground, shattering it next to him.

He saw yellow, then green, and then it all faded to black, but only for a brief moment.
When Michael awoke again it was still dark, and despite still being in the pair of pants and shirt that he liked to call pajamas because they had holes, he was outside, specifically kissing wet pavement. He got up as he felt like every bone in his body had been pulled in the wrong way and looked around to see where the fuck he was.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he himself was at fault for being where he was. It felt like he had tortured his ankles for fun, and despite waking up lying horizontally, his feet were still the dirtiest part of him. Was he bleeding? He didn't want to know, but he could feel some holes in places where holes shouldn’t be.

After concluding that the answer to knowing where he was turned out to be, no, Michael sat on the floor again thinking about the best course of action. On one hand, he could pass the night until the sun showed up and he recognized some bus with the name of the street where Jeremy lived. But that sounded very ineffective. Plus he didn’t know where the bus station was or which direction he had to look out for.

He could call a taxi, but he didn’t have any money in the nonexistent pockets of his pajamas. And even If he had had enough money for the payphone, he was sure that no matter what he did, he would end up with not enough for a taxi. In conclusion, he was fucked.

Much to his demise it seemed like he would have to do something he had only started to do recently, ask for help. This time though, it would be harder, at least with Jeremy he felt like he had an excuse. He surveyed the strange neighborhood; almost all shops were dark and closed by that hour, except for a place from which a faint light ascended.

A cheap sign with busted neon lights signaled “THE CRYPT” a name as alluring to Michael as “Slaughterhouse 5”. When he descended the stairs he could see the lights coming from a door that seemed hidden. Despite it seeming to be a club, no bouncer seemed to be present at the entrance.

The stairs were narrow and Michael could feel the quality of the air get worse and worse with each step he took. It smelt burnt. He was starting to feel nauseous again. As he finally put his feet on firm ground, he failed to notice the clientele of the bar, putting most of his efforts into not passing out again. He stumbled into one of the few seats in the small locale (he was starting to understand why it was called the crypt).

He looked half-dead at the bartender as he asked for a glass of tap water, He couldn’t tell If they were a man or a woman, but that didn’t matter much as long as they could help him. Whoever it was, they were currently eyeing him suspiciously.

“Can you give me your I.D.?” A deep voice that seemed to come from the heavens awoke Michael from his stupor. “But I didn’t ask for an alcoholic drink,” Michael responded in a slurry. “Oh, shit.” The bartender quickly left the confused boy as they went under the bar calling out “Frank, Frank you piece of shit! What the fuck is one of your kids doing at my bar?!” Michael made as much effort as he could to turn around and then he met Franks eyes.

It was his driving teacher. Fuck. Michael quickly looked the other way, but it was already too late. Frank came towards him and with what felt like all the force in the world, gave him a back slap that took the air out of him. Completely awake now, Michael was somewhat ready to face his teacher’s interrogation.

“Ok, what are you doing here son?” Well, that was a harder question to answer than it seemed. After Michael’s skull rattled around for any excuse imaginable, he came blank and told his instructor the truth. “You doing drugs son?” Michael shook his head in a manner that he hoped would communicate that no, his father had already tried that excuse with him, he wasn’t going to fucking go through being accused of doing drugs again.

After some uncomfortable silence, Frank got up to go talk to what a more aware Michael now recognized as a drag queen and his examiner for his last driving exam. Double Fuck.

They seemed to be talking and throwing insults at each other using very colorful language. Eventually, Benjamin (whose name he had learned from paying attention to the insulting) pointed toward Michael and slapped his driving instructor in the ass with a force that could rival a transformer.

The embarrassed man went back towards Michael and they found themselves at a standstill. The silence dragged on enough to make Michael uncomfortable. “You know, I can leave If you want. I should have walked until I found a landmark that I recognized from the start…” He was rudely cut off by his instructor before he could explain his newly formulated plan with a “No!”. Frank followed with an offer to drive him home citing “not being able to live with himself” If something happened to the boy in the dark of the night.

Michael agreed, he figured he would rather ride with someone he knew than hitchhiking, so he said yes somewhat reluctantly, seeing as he didn’t have any other option. And If he got kidnapped? Well, he was fucked either way he could get kidnapped by a white van in the night or his teacher, he would like to think that the police would find him easier If he knew the kidnapper, but then again they couldn’t be bothered to find him when his father kidnapped him.

So in the end he got into his teacher’s grey car, giving him the best directions he could on how to reach Jeremy’s house. But much to Michael’s dismay, as usual, his teacher wanted to talk some more to fill in the awkward silence. Seeing as Micahel wasn’t up for conversation it turned into a convoluted monologue.

“You know son, you remind me a lot about my younger self. Back in the day, I was also full of spunk and confusion. Ah, I remember my first visit to a gay bar, it was completely different to this small thing we have in Utah! At least this one doesn’t get raided by the police that often.” The man looked back as If being reminded of something, sighing when he saw the coast was clear.

“But anyways, what I wanted to tell you, son, is that you should never be ashamed of being who you are, but it’s ok to be afraid. Believe me, lately I have been losing as many people as rabbits die in a year. I don’t want the younger generation to have to go through that. You know?” The man looked forward again, clearly trying to not let Michael see his tears. He sniffed and continued.

“Just, keep yourself and Jeremy safe ok? His father and I used to be friends when we were young and I would hate to see you or him go to the other side. If you catch my drift. Not that you know, there is anything wrong with swinging for the other side, but that’s not the other side I mean, you know?” Frank was starting to talk faster and faster, and Michael’s brain was slowly starting to catch up with what he was implying. He glared at Frank, but instead of backing down he simply chuckled.

“Aw, come on kid, I may not have known you that long but I have experience with reading between the lines. And your lines are pretty visible even If most can’t see it. Especially the way you talk!” Now Michael was genuinely offended.

“It’s just a British accent.” Michael was pretty sure he wasn’t as transparent as the man claimed, and that he was seeing bullshit anyways. “No, no, no. Not your accent son, you are just very overly dramatic… it has a certain quality you know?” Michael continued to deny the strange accusations of the man. “That’s just because I watch too many soap operas.” Finally Frank gave up, hitting Michael’s head with his notes as usual while telling him off.

“Ok, little guy. I just know? Call it instinct If you want.” The car finally fell to silence. Michael wanted to refute the man’s baseless accusations, but one way or another, he couldn’t bring himself to give a definitive no. So he just simply shrugged it off. The road lights faded to turn into street lights, and Michael couldn’t help but wonder how in the bloody hell he had sleepwalked all the way out of town.

Finally, they parked and found the Fitzgerald household with the lights turned on. Mr. Fitzgerald was waiting for them. He stood at the door looking with furrowed eyebrows at his old friend. Who was wearing the most garish outfit imaginable, he was wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt with open buttons, the tightest jeans imaginable, and a garish hat with sequins. He had never seen his friend look so awful.

“Just dropping off this lost guy on your porch, and then I’ll be on my way.” The two men continued to stare at each other as If the other one was an alien, but eventually, Mr. Fitzgerald looked in Michael’s direction, the light revealing several bloody holes in his skin. “How did he get those?” As dry as ever he was, Frank thought.

“Kid seems to have a somnambulism problem so who knows? Could have been a field of needles or a stray cat, but he seems to be fine, Aren’t you?” Michael, who had almost managed to fall asleep, muttered a confused “sure.” not having paid attention to the question.

“Well, now If you’ll excuse me, I have a place where I am needed so I’ll be leaving now… Good Night!” He patted the shoulder of Mr. Fitzgerald a gesture that was sadly not reciprocated by the very drunk man. But Michael at least waved goodbye at the man when he got back into the car. So he left with a small smile as he reminisced about the night.

Michael on the other hand just kinda stared at Mr. Fitzgerald waiting for instructions. But the man simply huffed as If the act of getting off the couch had taken the energy out of him. Michael simply followed him, muttering a quiet “good night” as the man went back to the television. Seemingly trying to beat Michael’s record of hours without sleep.

Michael woke up with a jolt. Suddenly remembering that he had been told to be down by 10 o'clock. Thankfully when he looked at the old alarm clock, it reassured him that it was still 9 AM. He had only slept 3 hours in total.

He spent the remaining hour figuring out what to wear for breakfast. Should he go in his pajamas and dress up later, or should he go dressed up to appear more proper? Eventually, he decided that the holes in his body were enough and that holes in his clothes would probably be a bit overkill. So he put on a lavender shirt and a pair of trousers and called it a day, not even bothering to brush his hair or wash his face, having forgotten that it was still dirty from having eaten asphalt that night.

Jeremy’s mother muttered something when she saw him arrive at the kitchen looking like he had been run over, she looked towards her husband to share in his disbelief, but the man simply shrugged and continued to drink his coffee while eyeing the newspaper. Jeremy was apparently still sleeping like a log, much to his mother’s distress.

“I swear that boy will be late to his own funeral”, she muttered. Mr. Fitzgerald scowled seemingly not too happy about his wife mentioning the death of their only surviving child so casually. But she simply ignored him as she instructed Michael to please wake up their son.

Michael took the opportunity to escape the now tense kitchen in a heartbeat as he tried to filter out the discussion Jeremy’s parents were currently having about his person. Once again words like “provisional” and “concerning” floated around the house, creeping through the stairwell leading to the dormitories.

Michael had not paid attention to what room was Jeremy, so he simply opened each door to take a peek inside in order to find his target. Finally, at the door on the left, he found the boy still snoring, his hand near the turned-off alarm clock. And that’s when Michael had an idea.

He opened the already ajar door some more, and with the utmost delicacy tried not to make the floor creak. He got under his bed and put a hand over his mouth, as he tapped the floor with his fingers, trying to wake up Jeremy.

But the fucking bastard kept sleeping. So Michael surveyed the underside of the bed for anything to use to make sounds. But eventually, he just settled on using his shoes to kick at the bedframe. After a loud bang, Jeremy finally groaned, opening his eyes in confusion, only to go the fuck back to sleep. Michael was starting to see why Mrs. Fitzgerald had sent him instead of going herself. Lazy bastard.

He started hitting the frame rhythmically, not bothering to stop when Jeremy half shouted a confused “What the fuck!”. In his confusion, the boy went for his home slippers only to feel a hand grab his ankle from underneath the bed.

Sadly for Michael Jeremy’s shout came with a side of a kick to the face with his other leg. Michael couldn’t help but wheeze while covering his bruised face. He was almost hyperventilating when Jeremy got tired of waiting for him to come out from under his bed and dragged him out himself.

But that didn’t deter Michael from snickering at his little prank having been successful. At least in his eyes. Well at some point he was choking on his own saliva more than laughing, it was rather pathetic. So Jeremy simply sat on his spine while he waited for him to calm down, it was pretty effective and crunchy.

Finally, after Michael calmed down, silence befell the room. Leading to the two teenagers realizing their predicament. “Jeremy, please get off me. We are not kids anymore.” Michael tried to argue his case, but Jeremy was in the mood for a discussion “Don’t act like the fucking mature one now, asshole. You are the one who wanted to relive the good old times. So be it! Get good old times punishments”.

Michael was sure his back was gonna feel like hell when he got up. Jeremy wasn’t exactly lightweight, despite currently being very breezy. “At least put on some clothes before you sit on me, didn’t your mother show you any manners?” Jeremy simply rolled his eyes as Michael realized that yeah, he had known since that one summer camp that Jeremy liked to sleep in his underwear, but in his defense, he had forgotten.

And now he was thinking about the situation, fuck! Michael quickly started to panic while his overworking brain was blaring with alarms telling him “ACT NORMAL, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”. It wasn’t helping. But at least it was enough for him to finally apologize, much to Jeremy’s surprise, who finally got his ass off the other boy’s back, allowing him to excuse himself before getting the fuck out of the room.

He half walked half ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself before checking himself in the mirror, he still looked like shit, but at least he wasn’t blushing. There was still hope for him. Thinking as logically as he could, he supposed that the weird tingly feeling he felt in his skin was the kick to the face he had received courtesy of Jeremy’s left foot. He should probably wash his face.

Jeremy on the other hand, started to finally get dressed to go down for breakfast. Smiling as their little scuffle had brought back some good memories from when they were children. He was also relieved because thankfully Michael had not found his stash of magazines under the bed, especially the Heavy Metal and Playgirl ones. In his defense, he did not know Heavy Metal had pornography when he bought it, and neither did his mother who had been the one to give him the money.

The other one was free. He stole it from his cousin. It had been a great feat, although If someone asked him he would never admit he had read the thing. When boredom struck he did find himself checking it out of curiosity. Spying on what the other team was looking for, he would like to claim it was a pretty smart tactic.

Or so he would like to think.

Chapter Text

Despite Michael wanting to sleep in during that Sunday, Jeremy had other plans. They were going to the mall. Allegedly he told his mother it was to get new clothes which made the woman excited making her exclaim “My boy is growing up so fast! Wanting to choose his own clothes now! I’ll go get you money.” And off she went towards the entrance dresser. Probably the worst place where you could store money.

Michael had been the one to come up with the lie during their brainstorming session that morning, and although it had been mostly a joke directed towards Jeremy’s bland taste in fashion, it had turned out to be the perfect lie. If only one of them could have gotten his driving license, everything would have been better.

Jeremy’s dad slowly rose from his armchair at his wife’s request. Giving Michael a judging stare before indicating for the two boys to follow him to the car. It was a grey family car that had seen cleaner days. A biosystem of moss and insects had formed on the outside, but a spider that lived in the spider web perched on the rearview window acted as the apex predator, controlling the insect population. Michael “fixed” this when upon getting settled, he proceeded to smash the spider to nothing more than a smudge with his shirt’s sleeve.

Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t react much to the new corpse in his rearview window. Simply instructing “Michael please, close the window.” While he changed gear into reverse without even looking. Michael and Jeremy proceeded to play the game who is gonna be less likely to fail the next driving exam, which much to the tired man’s ears dislike, involved yelling.

“120 miles per hour means changing into 4th gear.” said Jeremy confidently, unprepared for Michael’s high brow come back of “It is 5th gear you fucking dumbass.” which escalated into an argument, “Who are you calling a dumbass?! It is 4th gear unless the highway is long and uninterrupted, we are still near a population center you fucking idiot!” The conflict quickly escalated almost drowning out Blondie’s “Call me!” Coming from the radio.

“You are a dick!” Michael yelled. “You wish! You wish you had my dick” Jeremy yelled back. Mr. Fitzgerald was regretting everything. “Pfft! You wish you had my dick!” Michael replied not making a very original statement. “That little thing? For what? Using it as a toothpick?!” And so the fight of bile began.

Mr. Fitzgerald turned the volume up, both too tired to yell at the boys to shut the fuck up and too tired to withstand their nonsensical yelling. As long as they didn’t kill each other or get in the view of the rearview mirror, it would probably be fine. The caffeine running through his body was keeping him alert enough to drive properly, or at least he thought it was.

Despite him trying to not get distracted, he couldn’t help but glance at one of the many giant billboards on the way to the Hurricane Central Mall that caught his eye. “Come visit the new & improved Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza” it read. But it wasn’t the parading of his child’s possible resting place reopening, what truly caught his attention. He had already gotten used to it after the lawsuit, bureaucracy could do wonders when it came to making you stop giving a fuck. What truly caught Mr. Fitzgerald’s eye was something that he could only describe as an abomination.

Its innards were fully in view, showing cables and beams made of metal, barely covered by a pink plastic face. But that plastic facade barely hid the extra set of teeth hiding within another jaw in the inside of its throat. Who in that godforsaken company had looked at a Xenomorph from the 1979 movie and thought “Yeah, this is what kids want nowadays.” Maybe he should have yelled a bit more in court to get some sense into those people’s heads.

Finally, after fifteen minutes that felt like an eternity, Mr. Fitzgerald parked the car in the parking lot, not having much trouble due to the lack of rain that weekend. Jeremy said goodbye to his father, giving him a few pats on the shoulder for good measure and good luck. Mostly to reassure himself his father wasn’t gonna die in a car crash. Michael stood there awkwardly, reasoning what to do, eventually simply giving a court goodbye.

Finally, after Jeremy’s father retired, the boys got to work scanning for any store with a discount, preferably a hardware store or may their search be unfruitful, a clothing store. A sports store would be a good compromise for finding anything to defend themselves from a serial killer and finding clothes. Two birds with one stone.

It had been a while since the both of them had stepped foot into a mall. Michael remembered it for all the wrong reasons. First, having fallen into the fountain in the middle of the complex when he was trying to borrow some of the coins people who clearly didn’t want it had thrown at the bottom. The wet socks had been punishment enough, but he had also been denied access into every single store their little group had tried to get into.

Eventually, After he had gone from wet to damp enough to be excused by the rain, he was allowed access into a Five Guys and Michael on Jeremy’s suggestion of trying new things had chosen to order a Reese’s Milkshake, instead of the usual (and superior in every way) banana.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Michael had gotten distracted by one of Jeremy’s shirt’s buttons giving up on life and coming loose, making him sip too fast, leading to him choking on a Reese’s cup piece.

The peaceful scene at the dinner soon turned into chaos as Jeremy tried to do the Heimlich maneuver on Michael, utterly failing because he had learned it from movies and didn’t actually know the proper technique. Bryan violently slapped his back as If it was going to help and Dean tried to waterboard Michael with a glass of water one of the waitresses had brought him in a panic.

Finally what little survival instinct Michael’s body had left in it kicked in. He managed to cough up the nasty chocolate and peanut piece onto the table. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant memory, but Michael couldn’t help but reminisce a bit about those simpler times when his biggest worries and fears revolved around choking on various foods.

Eventually, after passing by the same fountain (still holding around 20 dollars of people’s spare change, which must have been cleaned recently) the duo arrived at their first destination. Forom Sports, the only sports store in the whole mall after killing their competition during the plastic crisis of 84’.

Being Sunday it was currently filled by little boys with their parents whose dreams of being sports professionals hadn’t been killed yet. That or they thought they were good enough to get a college scholarship. The thoughts of college and a future beyond high school and their dead siblings frightened the teenagers enough to start a small chat with one of the store clerks.

“Excuse me, sir, could you show us where the baseball and hockey equipment sections are located?” Jeremy said, evening his tone and sounding overly professional for a seventeen-year-old trying to buy sports gear.

“Sure, you just need to go up the stairs and go right towards the back. They are a little bit hidden so that children don’t pick them up and wreak havoc, they are a menace” the man explained with tired eyes and a genuine smile.

Sure enough, when they went upstairs they found several children hanging and swinging on the clothesline. A less optimistic-looking young woman was desperately trying and failing to contain the gremlins. But she was pathetically failing.

One of the children kept bumping into Michael. At first, he tried to ignore it. But the boy kept doing it, so he raised his leg in order to kick the child in retaliation. But before he could fulfill the child’s destiny and be the first evil force to oppose the innocent being, Jeremy stopped him.

But due to the force of the kick, he still managed to pull Jeremy with him towards the stairs. Thankfully their fall was broken by the stair simply not being that long, so they just ended up flipped onto their back like two confused turtles.

After a moment of disbelief, sprawled on the stairs as If they were playing some strange 3 dimensional level of Twister, Jeremy’s limbs finally slacked off after his brain made sure he wasn’t going to die If it let him go. Thankfully it was correct.

Michael’s brain on the other hand had just stopped working completely. He was staring at the ceiling with a lost look in his eyes as If he was a slow computer terminal trying to load an extreme amount of data. He wasn’t even breathing. Perhaps he was hoping he would pass away so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Or perhaps his time had finally come to greet Satan.

The lava sounded nice. He didn’t really like the cold, he would be fine. Hopefully, his father would go to heaven when he eventually died and they would never meet again...

...But then his mother and siblings would have to be in the same place as that bastard. Fuck. God was a fucking bitch. Michael wouldn’t even be able to suffer in peace when he went to hell.

Fuck.

Michael’s tragic thoughts were interrupted by a wheeze, followed by a snicker that eventually turned into full-on laughter. Now 3 years later Jeremy was the one choking on his own laughter as he hurt his lungs snickering about their unfortunate absurdist happenings.

He tried to go in for a hard slap in Jeremy’s back in order to stop him, but all he managed to do in the end was slide awkwardly down the stairs only being stopped by once again Jeremy holding his leg as If it was a broom. The Tom & Jerry level of antics finally made Michael crack a smile, though not as wide, big, or bright as Jeremy’s.

Since he wasn’t dying from a lack of air from laughter, Michael was the first to get up and apologize to the staff. After the short apology, he dragged the still panting Jeremy towards the baseball section away from the confused eyes of the other patrons. Finally, Jeremy calmed down, managing to relax his breathing to an acceptable level.

After escaping a security guard who had wanted to question them about their “curious purchases” the pair found themselves riding in the bus, what direction you ask? The new and improved Freddy Fazbear’s pizza.

The two bats inside Michael’s bag resounded throughout the bus like a battery, while the hockey sticks Jeremy was carrying acted as additional dissonant percussion.

“If you are going to get violent, at least save it for your father, dude. Remember what Spiderman said, with great legs come great responsibilities.” Michael looked at Jeremy stunned by the nonchalant way in which he had said his chosen conversation starter. Jeremy took this to his advantage.

“Look at you, now you have more bruises and for what? For wanting to hit a brat. I may have laughed after catching you, but the more I rewind the scene, the more of a pathetic psychopath you seem!”. Michael couldn’t tell If it was from the long day, or because of having fallen over, but Jeremy sounded more sad than angry. He couldn’t help but feel like a misbehaving child once more. But still, something bothered him.

“It wasn’t Spiderman who said it, you scatterbrained twat! It was Uncle Ben! I bet you never read those Spiderman comics I lent you.” Silence befell the bus once again, but this time it was because for once Michael’s head gears were working and turning at a rapid speed. Jeremy’s brain, on the other hand, was still tired and was working tirelessly to remember something, but in the end, all it gave Jeremy was a number “0” on his search results.

“You forgot to give them back, didn’t you? God! And for what? You didn’t even read them! Who are you to lecture me about how I should use my great legs?” Now Jeremy was being accused of book theft. Despite it having been accidental.

“As If you are one to talk! I bet you still have that old edition of the biology textbook we used in middle school! By the time you remembered a new revised edition had already been issued!”

He paused to take a breath as he prepared to continue to talk “And as for your legs! The only thing you have done well in your life has been abusing the poor vending machines when they got stuck so that people wouldn’t get robbed! That’s the only thing you are good at!” Jeremy suddenly shut his mouth, realizing that even If they were alone on the bus, the driver could still hear them. Sadly for Jeremy, Michael was actually proud of his vending machine abuse.

“Ah, good memories. I’m still so sad they put those weights on the machine so that people would stop shaking them.” He said with a pout.

“You weren’t shaking them, you idiot! You were fucking kicking the living shit out of them, sole of your shoe against metal” And all of Jeremy’s shame was gone once again as he continued to shout back.

“Well, it is the most effective method!” and with that, their conversation devolved into such nonsensical nonsense that not even the bored bus driver had wanted to pay attention to the teenager’s.

Chapter Text

The flickery lights of the closed establishment could give a headache to the toughest minimum wage office worker. The corners were filled with grease and who knows what that the cleaning boy couldn’t be bothered to scrape out. And worst of all, there was no kitchen available for midnight snacks.

Truly, Michael thought, the Freddy Fazbear franchise couldn’t have fallen any lower. It was deplorable. Jeremy couldn’t even exercise his right to the subhuman free and cold pizza they would give to the daytime guards. Inexcusable. His father? sure! But Henry couldn’t have fallen so low?!?

Thankfully to pass the time, the two of them had opted to bring with them the best game of them all, UNO. But before they could even begin the phone rang. And as soon as Mr. Newton’s pre-recorded voice began to come out of the telephone, Jeremy hung up with an exasperated sigh. He wasn’t getting paid enough to listen to his superior’s voice overtime.

Alas, they left their impending game of UNO on the table, the two teens began exploring the pizzeria in search of anything, to be quite frank. Anything that could put Michael’s father between bars. It was still only 11 pm. They had arrived early due to the mall having to close its doors at 10 pm.

So in case they got hungry they couldn’t go there either.

The hallway was rather unremarkable, unless you took into account the fucked up drawings the children would draw of the animatronics that the workers would then paste in the walls without a second glance. One of the old Chica biting a child was particularly remarkable for its “originality”.

They proceeded to check each party room. Michael taking the ones on the left and Jeremy on the right. It was rather unremarkable, apart from the unsanitary mysterious liquids and solids that were found in the corners. Along with some non conclusive blood that could either be from a child fight or from Michael’s father’s hobby.

Jeremy also managed to find a particularly large and rotound cockroach, it seemed to have stuffed its face before having died, probably from a staff member spraying it after a parent complained.

They should probably post another job offer for a cleaner.

Finally they reached the Parts & Service Area, getting hit by both the odour of a room closed for too long and rot filling the air. There were probably mold spores in there.

They couldn’t quite tell If the rusted smell was from Iron or from dried blood. But still containing their gags, they ventured into the room, flicking on the light.

Jeremy started looking into Freddy’s articulations to see If he could glimpse something inside, but it was hard to tell with such bad lighting. Michael did the same with Bonnie, but nothing could be glimpsed either.

They moved on to the remaining two, but Chica and Foxy were equally closed off. Jeremy was about to give up when Michael grabbed Bonnie’s arm (which was thrown off into a corner) and smashed it against Foxy’s cavity.

Before Jeremy could stop him, several tears had formed in Foxy’s chest. Exposing the endoskeleton.

“Oh great! Thank you Michael for your great solution! Now I’m gonna get fire-'' Jeremy was interrupted in his rant by Michael shushing him, as he gestured with his hand for him to get closer.

“Fuck.” Beneath the surface, mangled and mixed with the endoskeleton were the mummified remains of a small human, barely visible under the flickering yellow light.

“Great, now it has my fingerprints” Michael said as he tossed the animatronic carcass back into the ground. “To be fair, it probably has the fingerprints of lot’s of people.” Jeremy patted his back in a terrible attempt of consolation.

Their next destination was the new toy animatronics on stage. They left the bathrooms behind, both to save their nostrils and because they simply did not want to see the horrors beyond human comprehension that lay in those rooms.

“Well, at least you cannot break these” Jeremy confirmed as he knocked on the hard plastic the animatronics were made off. “Hopefully no one will notice that Foxy is in more disrepair than usual, I don’t want fired on the first day to be the thing I need to disclose to my next employer”.

Sadly for Jeremy Michael had taken the “you cannot break these '' as a challenge and had started looking for any object that could indeed achieve that.

“Michael, no.” As Michael's smile faded away they started to look for anything in between the hard plastic shells that could be a sign that there were corpses inside of them. But sadly they found nothing but a few rusted spots in the joints that could have been caused by any foreign liquids.

As they were running out of time they continued their search through the game area, losing track of time due to the lack of windows and clocks. They truly did build arcades the same way as they did casinos.

The only clock in the whole building was in the security room. Jeremy guessed other staff members would probably wear wrist watches to make sure they clocked in and clocked out on time. But he had forgotten his that day, and Michael never wore one to begin with.

As they approached kids cove, a chill ran down Jeremy’s spine. Michael had gotten distracted after finding a music box next to the display present, with a note on the side instructing staff members to keep it running at all times, especially at night. After Michael had double tapped the monstrosity that was Toy Foxy, Jeremy began to wind-up the music box.
Michael suddenly stopped hitting (more like beating) the mangle, as If something had frightened him in place. Jeremy tried to question him, but instead of answering he began walking towards the main entrance. Before he could stop him, a metallic crash resounded as Michael collided against the glass door, leaving cuts and bruises on his skin as he began running into the night, still bleeding.

“MICHAEL! WHAT THE F-!” Jeremy’s scream was cut off by a now moving Mangle, who had launched itself from the ceiling barely missing Jeremy’s head, but having collided against his body. Shock quickly left his body as adrenaline started rushing to his brain, the animatronics backstage had also started moving, although slowly. And whatever the fuck there was in the “display” present was trying to get out.

He ran, quickly retreating as he muttered curses under his breath, making sure he closed the parts & service door on his way with a bang. Balloon Boy tried to get in his way, but the round menace was quickly pushed aside by Jeremy’s will to live,

He sat once again on the office chair, tossing the abandoned game of UNO into one of the cupboards, as he began replaying Mr. Newton’s message, flashlight and music box right beside his right hand.

In the meantime, a certain daytime driving instructor was taking a midnight stroll through the local park. Observing the sleeping ducks and swans, excited for them to have cute lil’ ducklings in the springtime. As they had all grown up by now. He would have liked to have come with his boyfriend, but sadly the bar wasn’t gonna take care of itself alone.

As he continued to walk, the street lights started to flicker as he heard footsteps behind him. He quickly turned around, unafraid. Frank wasn’t afraid to cut a bitch If he needed to. But instead all he saw was the same scrawny figure of a few nights before. Except something was wrong, his posture was twisted, as If he had broken his spine and his breathing was heavy and ragged.

Finally the light flickered on once more, illuminating the figure and confirming Frank's suspicions. Although If it wasn’t for his hair, it would have been difficult to tell it was the same kid he had taught driving, as his face was full of dried blood. Frank quickly ran towards the teenager, worried sick.

“Michael, Michael can you hear me? I’m calling 911, please stay still, I’m gonna take you next to the road ok! Please say something?” the teenager failed to reply. As Frank moved to grab Michael he asked once more “Can you call? Please nod If you can hear me?” Still Michael did not reply, continuing to breathe heavily.

Halfway down the hill, as Frank was ringing the emergency number, Michael managed to get a word out, a faint “help”. Frank turned towards him once more, reassuring him “help is on the way, don’t worry”. But instead of hearing Michaels voice, a chorus responded in his place “ We need help”.

Confusion ran across Frank's face as he turned to face the teenager, who now sported a sinister smile. “What did you say son?” but instead of a reply, all the man received was a bit to the arm, as Michael’s skin started to break off, hard metallic wires and fingers digging into his flesh. Frank screamed one last time, alerting the ducks and making them fly away as the night devoured his unheard screams. At least unheard of by any humans. The 911 call was left unanswered, as the operator continued to try and get a hold of him. Eventually sending the cops on their way after receiving no answer from either party.

The next morning Jeremy emerged alone from the establishment, sure that he would get fired for the broken door, as there were no camera recordings and it was really fucking obvious that someone had broken in (or better said broken out). But to his surprise Mr. Newton didn’t seem alarmed at all, he had made Jeremy do a recount of inventory and seeing as there was nothing missing he had attributed it to the animatronics malfunctioning at night.

Either he was very desperate not to fire him, or this was a nightly occurrence. Jeremy did not like the sound of either. He eventually managed to check out, taking the bus towards his home, hoping to see Michael there with an explanation for what the fuck happened last night ready. But alas, he did not appear there, neither did he appear in school, or in the afternoon or in the evening. He had been searching for him and had lost sleep that he should have taken in order to survive the next night. But no, the bastard had to go missing again.

Again? Jeremy’s head started to spin as he recalled the Afton household basement. And Michael’s over a week disappearance had taken place inside those walls. According to him at least. Everyone else had assumed he had simply run away or gone on drugs. Or both.

And while it did seem like Michael had been possessed by some fucking anti-pain drug during his escape, he had been with Jeremy during the whole day, and it’s not like drug dealers were gifting free drugs to teenagers? Or were they? Maybe it was a clever marketing strategy to get them hooked. Like those nice charcuterie samples they would sometimes give out for free at the supermarket. But still, he would have seen Michael disappear at some point in order to get it.

Maybe he got it from Balloon Boy? He was the only one Michael had checked alone, and it had been right before he started freaking out at midnight. Right along with the establishment’s animatronics… something smelled fishier than Jeremy had anticipated. After overheating his brain overthinking, he decided on the plan of going to check Michael’s home before his next shift.

It was the only thing he could think of, since he no longer knew what places Michael liked to go to anymore. He was now rather peeved they hadn’t had more personal conversations during their work relationship. Maybe he should have done an even more in depth interrogation. Perhaps in the attic. So that his parents couldn’t hear him.

Michael’s place was closer to the metro station, so Jeremy got inside, an abandoned local newspaper of the day having been abandoned in one of the seats. The cover was rather shocking as the photograph had not been censored in any way shape or form. The headline read “Local faggot murdered in the park, hate crime or something else?”.

The corpse was barely recognizable, but he had been identified as Franklin Carpenter, his and Michael’s fucking driving instructor. The day seemed to be getting more and more bizarre as the hours passed. The article seemed to imply he had either died from a jealous lover’s murder or from someone having discovered his identity and having taken “matters into their own hands”.

Jeremy was devastated, he was one of his dad’s only remaining friends after Cassidy’s passing and he was one of the most decent driving instructors he had had. His death did not deserve such a headline. He was sure Afton had something to do with it, as the weapon used was identified as metallic, but no one seemed sure of the specific type of weapon. Although there was some speculation in the article about it having been a bundle of industrial wires.

He was so enthralled by the article that he almost missed his stop, so he quickly pocketed it on his trousers and ran towards the metro doors before they closed, managing to slip through just in time, much to the worry of the other passengers.

When he arrived onto the property, he found it unkempt. Its lawn had become overgrown with weeds, and the mountain had started the slow process of covering the main road up in dirt and flora. Jeremy was glad he was wearing boots and long trousers due to the November cold. Autumn was not kind that year in the temperature department, although lately it had failed to rain much. So something was something.

All of the lights were also off. And police tapes seemed to have faded with the sun hitting them. Although they hadn’t been taken off, it seemed like the investigation had stopped, at least for the time. That or they did not keep watch of the property at night, Jeremy just had to make sure not to leave more of his DNA on the crime scene, or just not to leave anything out of place in general.

Both for the police and because Mr. Afton could have come back while Michael and the police weren’t there. He picked up the “hidden key” under the welcome home floor mat, which was anything but hidden and opened the door slightly, trying to make as little sound as possible.

Then he closed the door, not wanting to alert anyone that he had entered. He took his newly acquired security flashlight from his backpack and started looking for the way to the basement, but instead what he found was much more worrying, there were footprints on the floor, but they were not any old footprints, they had three toes and were bigger than any giant's foot. They were animatronic footprints.

He started following them, down the hall, towards the opposite side of the entrance, then a corner hit. He waited a few seconds, flashlight turned off, hearing for anything, breathing, footsteps, but he only heard his own heart and his own lungs accelerating as he held his breath. He finally hit the corner.

And almost suffered a heart attack when he saw it. The old spring bonnie costume stood to its full height, its eyes turned towards Jeremy’s direction, it looked onward dominating the shadow covered wall it was standing next to. A few seconds passed as he almost died right then and there, when he saw it wasn’t moving. Jeremy eventually garnered the courage to turn his flashlight on. Both relieved and horrified at what the light revealed. Thankfully SpringBonnie was currently in Animatronic mode, and seeing as Jeremy had remembered to have his wristwatch this time, that meant he wouldn’t be active for another hour, at least.

Horrifically, SpringBonnie’s once golden fur was no longer monochromatic, it was full of brown and more concerningly fresh red blood. Indicating it had been used recently. Jeremy took a few steps closer, but before he could truly get a closer look at SpringBonnie, a loud bang resounded in the house. The basement door had just been opened and closed.

Not wanting to risk losing his still very short and young life, Jeremy quickly looked for a place to hide as he turned his flashlight off. Settling on a pretty cramped space under the sink, along with the cleaning products, which he made sure to hide behind. Just in case.

Now he just had to pray that a certain someone wouldn’t be thinking of cleaning a big yellow rabbit's fur that night.

Chapter Text

Jeremy could only hear what was happening beyond the cupboard, but thankfully Michael’s father wasn’t being particularly subtle about the ruckus he was making. Jeremy was at least relieved that William didn’t seem to suspect anything was amiss. Michael’s father seemed frustrated, but was also armed, as he could hear something sharp stab the thin cardboard walls of the house. Abusing them as If they were a training dummy for war.

Finally, he once more closed the basement door with a bang, muttering curses as he left through the front door. Silence once more invaded the house. And after holding his breath for a few more minutes, Jeremy got out of the cupboard, his eyes travelling towards the unclosed basement door, seemingly having bounced out instead of closing.

Jeremy peeked inside, unable to see anything, but hearing a faint, almost silent breathing coming from downstairs, perhaps another victim? Hopefully they would still be alive when he arrived. He quickly ran downstairs, skipping steps and jumping the last five, his face barely missing the unfinished floor.

He got up from the floor, looking around at the dark surroundings, trying to locate the breathing once more, but all that met him was silence. Perhaps he was too late once more? He went to find his flashlight, only to find it missing. It had probably fallen when he ran towards the kitchen. He would need to get it back later.

Jeremy started looking for the light switch, this time, he had no problem finding it. The sole lightbulb illuminating the damp place lit up, blinding him for a few seconds, that he wished would have lasted longer.

On the table in the middle lay Michael’s brother. His left half looked decayed, skin barely hanging onto bone with no flesh, full of holes eaten away by insects. The right side looked fresh, for lack of a better description, raw meat clung to the right side of his skull, his skin still lacked muscle but was blushed, as If make-up had been applied to it. The clothes were new, and smelled of lavender soap and fabric softener.

Jeremy finally located the flashlight. He had been mistaken. It had rolled out when he missed his step when jumping down the stairs, and had rolled towards the serving cart full of needles next to Gregory’s corpse.

Half of them were full, Half of them were empty. As empty as their subject seemed to be. Jeremy doubted the breathing he had heard had come from Gregory, or what was left of his body at least. Nothing more than a silent cadaver that looked half alive and half dead remained of him.

He checked for breathing, and he checked for a pulse. But nothing but coldness reached his hands. So entranced he was by the corpse he had failed to notice they weren’t alone in the room. The sound of teeth clasping broke the silence of the basement, drawing Jeremy’s attention towards the back wall. Where the bloody Fredbear suit was stirring into function.

Jeremy did not need to check his watch to know he was late for work.

Fuck.

He started running like lightning had possessed his body. Once more jumping the stair steps without taking the proper time to balance himself. At the end of the staircase, his breathing still ragged, he heard through the still slightly opened door the footsteps of what he presumed was an equally active SpringBonnie.

He waited, pressing himself against the door while hearing Fredbear slowly start to make his way up the staircase, one step at a time. And the moment the yellow rabbit turned his back he made a run for it, hitting his side against the wall and full on blasting through the door and the police tape. As soon as it heard him, SpringBonnie started the chase.

The police tape had actually bruised his stomach before breaking, and he had managed to hurt both his left leg and arm when fleeing the murder scene. So all that was keeping him going was the adrenaline pumping through his heart at the sight of the six foot monstrosity running right behind him.

And there was nowhere to hide because of course Michael’s fucking house was in the middle of nowhere Utah. A suburb with like one house and one fucking bar. Who in the bloody government had approved this? Oh great, now he was thinking using Michael’s words. magnificent!

Without realising where the hell he was going, Jeremy noticed the unassuming mound that was Gregory’s grave in the distance, But it had clearly been disturbed , both by the missing Gregory and by the not so freshly dug dirt beside the now ditch that was in its place. He wondered as he passed beside it If it would be a good hiding place.

But before his brain could even make a decision. An arm came out of the hole to drag him back, like a demon dragging a sinner to the underground in flames. Well, while he had no horns, Michael definitely was a demon for the fucking heart attack he had given Jeremy.

Jeremy proceeded to return the favour and hit Michael, but all he managed to get was even more pain from hitting something metallic. And a hand covering his mouth. He tried to bite it, but thankfully the approaching heavy metal footsteps of a certain robo-rabbit stopped him from attempting such a thing.

He held his breath as the complete silence and coldness of the figure hugging him dawned on him. Had he assumed incorrectly? Was it really Michael, he had just guessed from his silhouette in the darkness.

But with SpringBonnie patrolling the area he didn’t feel safe using the flashlight. Although, to be quite frank he wasn’t feeling very safe with a cold hand holding his face and another one his torso.

Being in a tomb did not help his mood.

When the footsteps became muffled in the distance, Jeremy finally separated himself from “Michael” wielding his flashlight as if it was the last beacon of light and reason, a gun! (it wasn’t a gun, but something had to do).

What he saw horrified him, it was Michael’s face!

Well, he already disliked Michaels face as of late, but there was something wrong with him. Almost making him look like his little brother’s corpse. Of course he only got a glimpse before Michael stopped trying to reach him and use his hands for something useful.

Like covering his hideous face. But still, flashlight in hand Jeremy could see the flakes of dried skin that revealed bones and wires under it. Along with the dried blood everywhere. If it wasn’t for the movement he would have assumed his friend was dead.

He finally got a reaction out of Michael, confirming him as human. “Can you please stop with the bloody fucking flashlight!” Those were undoubtedly Michaels strained vocal chords.

“No” Jeremy answered smiling as he proceeded to blind Michael further by turning the flashlight on and off in his face.
“Fuck you! Next time I’m not saving you from a hungry-hungry animatronic!” Michael proceeded to kick Jeremy on the side, getting to exchange his smirk for a yelp of pain from his already hurt body.

“I hope you don’t you fucking brute! Your father already has done enough fucking damage to my body! Thank you!” He snarled the last phrase as he hugged his side in search of at least making his pain less apparent than it actually was.

“My father is here?!” Michael sounded genuinely surprised. The hole must have been much older than Jeremy had thought If Michael hadn’t seen William.
“Of course he’s here! Where do you think the fucking yellow rabbit came from? My ass?” Jeremy shouted.
“With how much of an asshole you are, it could have!” Michael shouted back, louder.
“Shut the fuck up! What the hell happened to you? You seriously look like a truck hit you.” Jeremy shouted in a much more hushed manner, aware that their robotic enemy could be anywhere near them.

Michael began the explanation with a nervous laughter “Oh it did! but it’s not because of that, you see-” But his hand gestures were interrupted by Jeremy cutting him off.

“Wait, rewind, you got hit by a truck?” He asked, clearly worried, but mostly in disbelief Michael would recount it so casually. “Well, I guess I was the one who hit a truck If you wanna know the details.” Michael put his hand on his chin, clearly trying to remember the details.
“Can you just start from the beginning? With your great talent for explanations we are gonna be here until dawn.” And with that, Michael was finally convinced to get his story straight.

Michael had, according to himself, woken up from what felt like a bad dream, feeling similar to that time he had put a fork into an electric socket. Then he realised he was in a pond surrounded by ducks. It was rather uncomfortable, although he expected to feel much wetter or more damp at least. But all he could really feel was the weight of his hair against his skull.

He tried to recall where he had been last, barely remembering Jeremy’s face and something about “fuck”. He would rather not think about the context in which that word was said. Either option would probably lead to a troubled mind. So he focused on the here and the now and got up from his position.

But before he could get comfortable in his newly acquired upright position, a child screeched. A lil’ boy was pointing at him from the shore, his father’s jaw hanging from surprise at what he had assumed was a (still up) Halloween decoration standing up. The both of them quickly left the scene in fear, the father taking the child in his arms and running for their lives.

Michael had never been good with children. But he usually still managed to get a better reaction from them. He locked himself up and down, determining the damage done and coming to his now physically damaged brain, what he thought was a rational solution.

Throwing himself into oncoming traffic. Jeremy couldn’t help but facepalm at Michael’s description of “a rational decision”. Anyways, when Michael was on his way to the closest source of traffic, trying to stay away from the main park road, he discovered the mutilated corpse of their driving instructor.

He recalled having watched the corpse before, close to 6 A.M. The voice was familiar, the same he had heard before his escape last friday night. The creature seemed to have been discussing among itself.
“You brute! We need him! Now what are we gonna do! He is broken beyond repair.” Cried a high pitched voice. It was angry, but Michael could also taste the disappointment in those words.

“Oh I’m sorry, I was just so excited! It’s been so long since I had blood on my hands.” Argued back a manic voice, rather happy about the corpse on the floor.
“Don’t worry We can get another one.” A calm voice attempted to mediate, but it went unheard.

“THEY ARE RIGHT! MY EXCITABLE PARTNER WAS JUST HAVING FUN!” Something broke in Michaels ears when the fourth voice started to “talk”. He would need to get that checked later.

“Shut up! Do you want them to put us back? We are gonna follow my plan! And that’s fina-'' Before the first voice that spoke could finish her sentence, Michael shut down. Losing consciousness completely. The last thing he heard was the sound of water splashing around him.

Finally, everything dawned on Michael. That hadn’t been a dream, and the creature would overtake his innards once more when 12 P.M. hit. Jeremy proceeded to then interrupt once more.

“So, your ennards are haunted?” Jeremy said, emphasising the words in a rather bad mock british accent.
“My innards, yes, and stop making fun of my accent.” Michael clarified.
“never.” Jeremy muttered it as If it was the most solemn promise one could make. Managing to alleviate somewhat the tense situation they found themselves in.

As Michael was saying, after shit hit the fan in his brain regarding what was happening, he proceeded to ideate an even better way to end his existence. So he went up a scalextric and positioned himself on the highest point.

And then he threw himself onto the oncoming high speed traffic. Which according to Michael was very effective and caused no fatal car injuries. Well, except for himself.

“Ok, that explains the truck. But I feel like you are forgetting something important.”
“No, I’m not.” he was the one trying to get away from Jeremy this time.
“Michael…” Now Jeremy was getting closer.
“Unimportant details.” Jeremy continued getting closer to Michael.

“Michael!” Jeremy started to shake his friend like a Dorito bag.
“Fuck you! I’m not telling shit to you.” he replied.
“Why the fuck not?” Jeremy continued to shake the other teen.
“And why the fuck yes?!” Michael bit back. Making Jeremy sigh, mostly from how fucking tired he was of this guy.

“Because I care about you, man.” He finally said.
“That’s gay.” Michael responded in less than a second.
“Shut the fuck up.” Jeremy replied back.
Michael took a breath, Finally agreeing.
“Fine, we are running out of time anyways…”
“And whose fault is that?” Michael was about to start the fight all over again, but he gave up. Focusing on getting his story straight.

Once upon a time, there was a Michael, who had been flattened to the ground by a passing truck. After flattening Michael the truck went to sleep forever, but do not worry children, the truck gave birth to a beautiful forty year old truck driver who got down in order to look at Michael’s corpse.

But alas, all the truck driver found was a big splatter of blood, as Michael had kidnapped the truck after realising he still wasn’t dead. Leaving the truck driver behind, having to fend for himself in the vast desert of the concrete land.
“You stole a truck?” Michael proceeded to “shhhh” Jeremy with his hand, as his tall tale had not yet ended, and If he got distracted he wouldn’t be able to retell it correctly.

Michael drove for what felt like days, but was actually just several hours because he got lost on his way home, having not remembered the road back correctly, and having taken a slight 4 hour detour towards Salt Lake City. He finally had arrived home, but alas, he was unable to find his father in order to kill him with his bare hands, as the old wretched man begged for mercy.

So instead of waiting for him seeing as he didn’t seem to have come back, Michael decided to go visit Gregory’ grave as he usually did when he was feeling particularly like the shitty human piece of shit that he was. But, Surprise! His brother’s grave had been desecrated! Just what the brived priest had warned his father about, and so, waiting for death or waiting for his father (or most likely both), Michael had resigned himself to wait for his fate in that tomb.

But then Jeremy showed up and that was that.

THE END.

“Michael what the fuck?”

Chapter Text

Before the earth could claim them for a final time, the boys crawled up from the tomb and directed their course once more towards the lonely house on the hill.

“You don’t happen to have carried a baseball bat or hockey stick all the way out here? Do you?” Michael asked Jeremy, already knowing the answer to the rhetorical question.
Jeremy looked around himself as he put his hands in the air. “Do I look like Mary Poppins to you?”
“We are fucked.”
“Eh, part of the course at this point.” Jeremy remarked. Although to be quite honest he was looking forward to finding something, anything in the kitchen to improvise the bare minimum of a weapon or shield. At least he was grateful that Michael wasn’t feeling like a hypocrite today. Since he hadn’t told him off for having forgotten the ones they had already bought.

They had two tasks to fulfil before they could separate once more, and they were gonna get the ugly one out of the way first. At least Michael had promised to act as a human meat shield in case the worst came to be, but that option did not particularly calm down Jeremy’s heartbeat. On the contrary, he could feel it pounding harder than when he ran at full speed earlier that night.

Could Michael’s heart even beat anymore? Was it even inside his body at this point?

They entered the house in silence, the door still unlocked from SpringBonnie having left in a hurry chasing after Jeremy. They walked down the hallway, hugging the wall as If they would get lost in the house like in a labyrinth. The silence felt strange between them, but for once words didn’t need to be said to agree that the possible danger within the house was too much of a risk. Even after everything they had already done.

Michael was on the lead, keeping to his promise of acting as a meat shield. And Jeremy put to use his superior senses (at least compared to Michael’s) in order to localise any nearby danger. But as they approached the kitchen, they found the coast clear. A sigh of relief came over Jeremy as he laid his eyes into one of his biggest hopes.

He got on lookout duty while Michael began rummaging through the kitchen. They had reached the arrangement under the hope he would remember where things were located in his own house. But as Jeremy’s ears continued to be violated by clanking and quiet sorry’s, he began to regret having a brain.
“Can you be more careful?”

“No.” responded Michael drily, using a frying pan in each hand to accentuate his shoulder shrug. Jeremy could only facepalm as he felt the minutes crawl by him at a murderous pace. But at least he had become quite certain that Fredbear and SpringBonnie were out of the house.

They were having a hard time finding anything long or hard enough to be of use. Michael was creating a pile of objects that had grown bigger than the mass left in the cupboards. But his unorganised partner or his about to topple towers of uselessness were not the thing that finally caught Jeremy’s eyes. It was a rather faint dir trail that led to a closet.

He followed it, not telling anything to a distracted Michael that at this point was having fun making a mess, and opened the door. At first all he found was once again disappointment, a broom, mop and vacuum cleaner greated him in mocking plastic fragility. But then thanks to one of the many shiny objects Michael had in his hands, something sparkled with reflected light in the back. And so, risking his arm, Jeremy reached into the back of the closet.

It was a shovel.

Michael quickly got up to inspect the object in Jeremy’s hands, accidentally brushing the other boy’s fingers when he tried to get a closer look at the objects. He was cold as ice. The touch did not seem to bother him though, even before having never been very sensitive… at least when it came to his physical skin.
“Same one as the one used in the funeral. He must have kept it.” Michael had a rather lost look when recalling the funeral, resignation looked strange on him.
“You remember that?”
“What? My brain cells do sometimes connect when they want to! For one time! One time that I remember something! And you complain.” Jeremy simply rolled his eyes as they continued to inspect the object. Both the blade and the handle were made from stainless steel, and it provided some distance between the holder and the target.

“This will do.” He concluded. Michael simply nodded as he took control of their newly improvised weapon. The pair left the kitchen, leaving the mess behind as they first entered the living room. The light had been cut, but at least they had Jeremy’s flashlight.

They searched under the couch, under the table, behind the television and yet, nothing. They followed the scratches on the floor Michael remembered, but they simply formed a line from the broken bedroom window to the couch where Michael had fallen asleep to the waking nightmare crawling inside him.

Jeremy was about to suggest that it had all gone inside Michael when the person by the same name proceeded to push him with the force of a truck.
“Look out!”
Jeremy recovered from the fall and saw the horrid mangle of wires that had taken hold of Michael’s face. Michael had dropped the shovel in favour of grabbing the creature with his hands to stop it from going into his orifices. But he was not very successful.

Jeremy quickly got up, making a run from the shovel as he heard Michael's suffocated screams of “get it off! GET THIS FUCKER OFF!”
First he tried hitting it, but that only made Michael stumble backwards into the sofa. So in a desperate attempt, not caring anymore If Michael’s face would be intact after the extraction, he put his foot into Michael’s pelvis, shoved the shovel between his face and the creature and started to lever.

With the help of Michael’s hands and his scream breaking Jeremy’s eardrum. They managed to peel it off with moderate damage to what remained of Michael’s face. An eye, a bit of his nose, some lip, thankfully only superficial thing’s.

Still, even If they were superficial thing’s, Michael was furious. He snatched the shovel out of Jeremy’s hands and beat the shit out of the mass of wires. At first Jeremy was convinced it was gonna be useless, But as Michael got madder, the plastic and metal connections started to crack and snap, leaving nothing more than a heap of metal.

Even after it was dead Michael proceeded to kick it as If it was one of the vending machine’s at their old school. Finally Jeremy had to grab him from behind to get him away from the wretched thing's corpse. Michael was hyperventilating, barely managing to get a word out as he insulted the thing.

Thankfully the rather awkward one sided hug seemed to calm him down enough so that he stopped trying to get at the thing.
“Jeremy, you can stop grabbing me now.”
“You sure?”
“Please.” He said exasperated.
“Are you gonna promise you are gonna behave from now on?” Michael was on the verge of kicking Jeremy too, but the hug felt rather nice after such a long time. And he knew he would feel guilty after it.
“You are gonna be next.” Despite the threat he stayed in place.

Finally some shame crawled up Michael’s spineless ass as he got out of the hug, announcing that they still had an urgent matter to attend to.

He didn’t really need Jeremy’s help when carrying his little brother. But then again, It’s not like he had needed Dean’s or Bryan’s in the past. This time it was different of course, there was no chanting and they did not lift him above their heads.

Michael couldn’t help but taste bitterness in his mouth as he realised he was treating his little brother better in death than when he was alive. When they reached the mound, he lowered him ever so gently. Before taking the shovel and starting to bury him.

Jeremy stared ahead as the hole began to fill ever so slowly. But before roots could start sprouting at his feet, Michael took him out of his contemplative state. “Like what you see?”

Jeremy couldn’t help but get up and smack Michael in the neck for joking while burying his fucking brother. But alas, Michael had managed to lighten the mood. But that was not his only objective.
“Got it, then If you don’t like looking at me you might as well go back to Freddy’s to keep an eye on my father.”

For once Michael had a point. Perhaps the sombre mood was getting his brain’s gears finally working. Jeremy also wanted a distraction. So he agreed. Agreeing once more (hopefully for real this time) to meet each other at Freddy’s. Jeremy tried to get the info of where he was gonna be during the day, but Michael didn’t answer. More out of not having a fucking idea himself than out of trying to keep secrets.

How did Jeremy know this? He could see Michael staring at the three possums dancing in his head when he failed to answer the question. So Jeremy took his flashlight and they parted ways once more. He looked at the transport truck hidden between the trees in the distance one last time, before running down to catch the next night-time metro.

Of course the metro wasn’t instantaneous, and someone else had already arrived at the new and improved Freddy’s Fazbear’s pizza earlier that night. Having taken Springbonnie and Fredbear with him. He had put the robots in suit mode in order to prepare for the night’s event.

For you see, he knew that the robotic entertainer’s did not like his hair one bit. Who could guess why? So he would disguise himself to slip between them unnoticed and crank up their A.I. Although he hadn’t expected it to be so simple when he arrived. The nightguard seemed to have already gone missing before he could get the job done himself. Truly, what a shame.

Perhaps Freddy had gotten to them earlier that night. He would need to check the back. A bigger corpse in a spare suit would for sure call attention to all of the others. And he didn’t want that. The guy who died even seemed to have left him some presents behind. Baseball bats and hockey sticks were indeed not very useful against the metal monsters he had helped design, but when they smacked against human flesh the chorus of angel’s from up above would sing to appreciate their effectiveness.

Then again, blunt damage was rather unreliable. He rather prefered more reliable and tested methods. Nothing like cutting the aorta to make sure a sucker wouldn’t be able to get up again. Although he had learned it was better to keep their mouth shut. Human’s truly were like animals, screaming like pigs when their blood ran to the ground.

In conclusion, he didn’t quite feel like carrying the bloody sticks back and forth from the bunker. It wasn’t worth the results. After he cranked the Toy animatronic’s eye, which was a piece of cake thank’s to dear Henry’s amateur technician friendly designs, he went in to check on the toys to see their insides. And just as he had imagined, the fruit of his arduous labour throughout the last week had bloomed into a beautiful violet hue.

He took out the empty syringes from his bag and extracted the remnant from the rotting corpses inside the plastic pretty’s of Henry Emily and then went on his merry way, rather happy about everything having gone so smoothly. He would need to celebrate. And so he went to the new and better bar that wouldn’t kick him out like that bastard at Junior’s always did!

Junior’s? Junior’s. Yes. What a wonderful idea. And so with a skip on his step the petty man left.

It was rather hectic at the pizzeria when Jeremy arrived, it felt as If all of the animatronics had been set loose into the dark establishment. Their objective? Turn Jeremy Fitzgerald into a meat waffle by suffocating him inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. He was all but wishing to perhaps have fought Michael on his suggestion to check in on the place again, especially seeing as nothing seemed to have been moved out of place.

Even the puppet had stayed in its box. As If it too was afraid of the madness that was going on inside. But as 6 A.M. began to approach everything went quiet. It was as If time itself had stopped, leaving nothing but the dust covered walls and grime to grow. Jeremy felt even more uneasy, the adrenaline that had carried him through the last two hours leaving him cold and breathless.

But then, an apparition.

Jeremy waited for it to move. But instead the golden floating bear proceeded to talk. But without moving it’s massive jaws, “You are too late.” it announced.
But even in its reverberating state, Jeremy could hear a hint of something familiar in its echoey voice .
“Cassidy?”
But the voice did not respond, at least not to Jeremy’s questions. It seemed it was much more interested in other matters.
“Always too late!” it shouted.
Then the head began advancing with a roar. But before it could swallow Jeremy up like it had done Gregory five years ago, the bell chimed. Announcing it was the end of his shift. And as If it had never been more than water, the head vanished before Jeremy’s eyes, leaving him with more questions than answers.

The teenager took a few breaths to calm himself, holding onto the table for support before running towards Parts & Service at the end of the hall. But all he found there were good old Freddy, Bonnie, Chica and Foxy. No sign of Fredbear or SpringBonnie anywhere in the building.

Then again floating heads were probably not something that would have physical form. But Jeremy would like to assume they weren’t an everyday occurrence that could happen anytime, anywhere. It had to have an explanation, even If it was an illogical one. At least he now knew where Cassidy was, or at least where she had been.

He found himself looking at the children’s drawings hanging off of the establishment’s walls. Their crude complexity was something that reminded him of Cassidy’s drawings. Although her’s would often depict much more blood. Just red ink scribbled all over the page as pink cartoon intestines fell out of all kinds of thing’s bellies. She would often draw the colourful horses from that television film, what was it? Rescue at Midnight Palace? Castle?

She had convinced Jeremy to watch it with her in spite of him not wanting to. And he indeed ended up falling asleep as his sister failed to wake him up whenever she shouted when something “interesting” happened on screen. It seemed so distant now, but it had just been three years since they had watched it. Two since her death. He would sometimes wake up disoriented after those nightmares he couldn’t remember and expect her to barge into his room to kick his side or make a mess of his bed. The house felt so quiet without her.

His reminiscing about old times was sadly cut short, as someone had bursted through the entrance doors on the other side of the building. Alerting Jeremy of their presence. Jeremy looked at his writch watch, it was too early for anyone to be opening up so soon. Still, his questions were answered when he saw Mr. Newton at the end of the hall.

The middle-aged man seemed anything but happy.

Chapter Text

The police had arrived at the establishment. Having closed it on suspicion of it being the scene of the crime. Mr. Newton had heard this and proceeded to bolt in order to clean the place up before they could arrive. But much to his dismay he didn’t find the day-shift employee Dave Miller on the premises. Only finding a very confused Jeremy Fitzgerald in his place.

He called and he called what Mr. Miller had said was his home address, but nobody answered. Mr. Newton had tried to convince Jeremy of putting in extra hours during the day, but he had cleverly dismissed him by telling him he needed to go to school. Which to be fair was true. After a while the police sirens were heard down the road and yet Mr. Miller never returned to fulfil his morning shift.

On his way home Jeremy saw the familiar cop car of the man who had helped them during the whole basement incident. Michael hadn’t told him, but he could only assume what had happened with the cleaning lady and their driving instructor. Although Michael seemed to have been ok that night. And while he had told him of the damn thing having copied his sister’s voice, Jeremy would have assumed that Michael would have killed him the moment he got his hands on him If the thing inside him was in control.

Probably something to do with the short-circuit that had happened at the start of Michael’s recounting of events. Hopefully the thing’s chips had been fried front to back, like a good basket of chicken wings. He was gonna have to get breakfast, running for your life all night and carrying a corpse had left his stomach depleted.

As Bryan had taught him many years ago (when they were still on good terms) the secret to an all nighter was a full stomach and a shit ton of coffee. And he had skipped both the coffee and dinner yesterday. Then again it was still 7 o’clock in the morning, and while Mr. Newton had still not paid him, he still had a few bills from his birthday last July. So on his way he went in search of anything that would satiate his appetite for ten bucks, and some much needed coffee If he wasn’t gonna crash in class after having skipped yesterday.

This time he took the bus towards the street where his High School was, and by the time he arrived thirty minutes had already passed, making his stomach grumble. He entered a hole in the wall called “Gilbert’s pork and bun shop ” since he was on the mood for a nice breakfast sandwich, but to his surprise he found to workers, A man was on one side of the bar full of greasy grilled food, bread and even pizza, while a woman was on the other side serving a coffee and sweet pastries, the combination of smells was rather questionable, but each thing individually smelled to die for.

Jeremy took a seat as he made his eyes look away from the mouth-watering food and towards the prices. They were decent, they clearly knew their clientele were highschoolers with minimum wage jobs. He made his choice and communicated it to the man who he assumed was named Gilbert.
“Karen, a coffee with milk for the young gentleman!” He shouted while continuing to dance while getting the grill ready.
“Coming!” she shouted back.

Jeremy expected the interaction to end right there, but the man was in a rather talkative mood. As the background sound changed from “Under Attack” by ABBA to “Tragedy” by the Hee Bee Gee Bees the man changed his rhythm, getting closer to jeremy as the bacon started to sizzle.

“You know, it’s not every day me and my wife see a new face, what brings you here boss? “Hungry.” Jeremy responded, his last neuron hanging on by a thread of malnutrition.

Mr. Gilbert nodded with an understanding look on his face as his attention went back to preparing the food. A shout of “coming right up boss!” caught Jeremy’s attention as the coffee lady went to serve a Macchiato to none other than their last driving examiner. Jeremy almost had a heart attack when he saw him, hopefully he wouldn’t notice him. Their last conversation had not exactly gone smoothly.

Still, curiosity got the better of him. But when he looked back, instead of seeing the man staring at him disappointingly, he found him grabbing a napkin to wipe his eyes. Immediately Mr. Gilbert took the opportunity to stop working once more, mentioning more to himself than to Jeremy “Poor, poor Benjamin, his partner just got murdered Monday night. Must still be disheartened at the loss.”

“Well, it’s usual to mourn for a long time, a person who was always in your life is hard to move on from.” Jeremy couldn’t help but sigh at his own homelife after Cassidy’s “departure” from this world. And having just heard her current state recently did not help the lump that was forming in his throat. Mr. Gilbert noticed, either from his facial expression or from the fact Jeremy had failed to grab the already done breakfast sandwich he had been begging for earlier.

“Karen! Can you please get this boy’s coffee here?” He asked, communicating something with his face that Jeremy couldn’t see. Although, Karen’s expression of worry was enough information.
“Sorry! I’ve got it!” The woman quickly rushed towards their side of the bar, handing Jeremy a medium sized cup full of steaming caffeine ready to burn his oesophagus.

He always forgot to ask for a lukewarm If he wanted a hot coffee instead of a burning one. Oh well, better luck next time. He began to eat his sandwich as his head began to think clearly once again… “murdered last Monday night” Mr. Gilbert had said. It didn’t take long for Jeremy to reach the answer of who they were talking about.

He wasn’t gonna get his driver’s licence in 87’ that was for sure. Hopefully 88’ would show him a kinder time. Then again, he was gonna have to graduate in 88’ so maybe he was putting too much on his plate…

…And then there was the whole Michael situation.

He would need to ask him If he or William had good health insurance. Then again, they were trying to put William out of commission, and Jeremy’s mom always complained about all of the transactions she had to do during Christmas time.

Damn, Michael was gonna be working minimum wage for the rest of his life to pay that off. And his children If he had any. Although for some reason he couldn’t imagine Michael having children.

He wondered, Why? He was a delight with them and would never try to kick one that annoyed him in a sport’s gear store. No, Michael would never.

Mr. Gilbert took him out of his spiralling by asking a simple question.

“Thinking of a special lady, are you?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“What? no?” Jeremy frowned.
“A special mister perhaps?” Mr. Gilbert raised an eyebrow as he smiled. Finally, the man’s unserious attitude cracked Jeremy and he answered.
“No, I was thinking of a clown.”

“ah! yeah, we get those types all the time, wanna confide in uncle Gilbert about this clown friend of yours?” Mr. Gilbert was more begging for a conversation than genuinely curious, but Jeremy guessed that this would be better than his parents or his non-existent friends.

Michael didn’t count.

Jeremy checked the time and seeing as he had some time, he decided to kill it.

Metaphorically of course, he wasn’t a killer. Unlike a certain someone. Jeremy quickly tried to tell something, anything normal to Mr. Gilbert, but everything that involved fucking Michael was so unbelievable that he ended having to cut entire chunks of the story.
“Ah, I see how it is, lil’ secrets huh? Ah, I remember when me and my ex had lil’ secrets, right Karen?

“More coffee?” she perked up with a smile.
“No, Karen my ex.” That smile was gone as soon as the word “ex” was uttered.
“Fucking bastard, I hope he dies on a ditch and eats flies for dinner!” Everyone turned around to look at her. But that did not seem to bother her.
“Calm down Karen that was years ago.” Karen simply pouted, continuing to clean up the dishes like nothing happened.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, he was a nice fellow but ended up leaving me to get married with no warning. Though that’s thankfully old water now. And then I got to meet my lovely Karen. Eleven years! I sometimes can’t believe it!” Jeremy continued to look at Mr.Gilbert trying to process everything, but alas he gave up and focused on one thing.
“Your boyfriend?”

“Oh, I thought you were in the know… forget I said anything.” The man laughed as he got back to work. Completely forgetting that he had asked Jeremy about his life. A little rude. Despite having learned it was an ambient bar, Jeremy decided to stay as he pondered about the place, something about it felt very warm and welcoming.

Perhaps it was the pictures of the patrons who looked happier than his parents ever did in photographs, even before Cassidy’s death. Kinda felt like when he was with Michael. Except with less insults. But still, lately it had felt much more light hearted than when Dean would do it when they were together as a group. But then again it was Dean. And Michael’s brain activity should probably be studied by scientists.

Hopefully he had returned the truck… somewhere at this point. He would rather not think about it. He finally finished the breakfast, not caring much that he was gonna be late to school at this point, and went on his merry way.

Mr. Bryan waved him goodbye as he shouted “Good luck with your clown, kid!” and Jeremy couldn’t help but smile as he shouted back “I’ll need it!”.

And seeing how everything was going, he would surely need it.

In the meantime Michael had indeed not returned the truck. And after having finished with the re-burial, he had taken it on a morning tour of Hurricane. Not intentionally mind you, he had simply gotten lost after misremembering a turn. In his defence it was very badly signalled. At this point he was mostly grateful that there was nobody on the road that morning, and that the truck didn’t belong to him, several radars had flashed him so the bill was gonna be big.

He might have dodged prison when it came to manslaughter, but debt and stealing of property might be the thing that do him in. Then again he was technically dead, Jeremy had noticed, so maybe the law would not apply to him. Or maybe they would need to make a new law for zombies now? Was he a zombie? He would rather not think about it. This line of thought was making his heart race and his hands sweat. Finally he arrived at his destination. He parked however he liked seeing as the parking lot was deserted and not built for transport trucks and got down.

Only two years and it was already looking so sad.

Morning classes had become nap time for Jeremy Fitzgerald that morning. All that caffeine could do nothing against 24 hours of no sleep and poor sleep. And it wasn’t like he was getting anything, yesterday’s classes must have been the most important, because everything sounded like French to him. Including French. He should have picked Spanish instead of French, at least that one only had one type of accent mark.

What truly got him awake again during lunch was overhearing a familiarly squeaky voice mention Freddy’s. He put on his brain antenna and started to listen more closely. His eyes quickly localised Elon, followed closely by both Dean and Bryan. Jeremy could only overhear a few words, but they gave him enough context “dump”, “party”, “tonight” and most importantly of all, “old freddy’s”. It didn’t take a genius to piece it all together.

The fucking audacity they had to organize a party there. At least he knew now his sister was no longer there. Or better said, what remained of her. That was his only relief.

Of course Dean Derrick did not give a fuck about Elon’s chosen location for his birthday party being at the abandoned Freddy’s. He was more disappointed about the fact it hadn’t been Elon’s own house, since it had a pool, minibar and everything one would wish for. But of course his parents had to stay and told him that If he threw a party there they would call the police.

At least they had financed the beer and everything. It was so much easier to buy alcohol when you had the means to and your parent’s permission. The plan was to start drinking in the parking lot, then break in and wreck the place to bits. They even had a DJ for the after wreckage party and a few guys had even brought their spray cans, to leave some nice messages to good old Freddy of course.

What they didn’t expect was for a truck to be parked in the middle of said fucking parking lot. But hey, they could always improvise.

In the meantime, Michael was feeling rather hopeless at the old Freddy’s location. Almost everything but the furniture seemed to have been moved, reused to stop the new location's budget from inflating. The only interesting thing was the kitchen that the second location lacked. Then again, it didn’t help much that he wasn’t very familiar with the location beyond the few times he had snuck in to gather the documents his father had asked for. Thinking back now he felt beyond stupid. Plans from the animatronics, legal documents signed with Henry’s name.

He couldn’t recall anything particularly incriminating other than the fact his father wanted the documents. So unless he and Jeremy found them, they were a cold lead. Still, he took a left corridor in order to get to the security office, with some hope that he could find something there. But what caught his attention instead was a set of rules hanging on the wall, or better said, the piece of paper that could be seen behind the cracks in the frame.

He carefully dismantled the frame, and inside he found newspaper clippings from Hurricane daily. Two of them from when Cassidy and the other children were killed by his father, the other two from when the restaurant finally closed its doors. The newspapers should have been on the company’s archive, not hidden behind a frame? Had William done this? Or Henry?

Michael guessed he would need to ask either of them. And considering Henry didn’t like him for having killed a kid in his dream restaurant, and who his father was, he guessed he would never know. To be quite fair the newspaper only reminded him of the poor janitor who had gotten convicted in place of his father.

He was arrested, but thankfully a family member fought for his case and he ended up getting released. Although Michael doubted If he would able to live a normal life after that.

A normal life? Michael couldn’t help but laugh aloud at his worry for a stranger living a normal life when he had Ennard inside of him. After the short-circuit the previous day he had been in complete control. So he could only hope that the damned thing had perished and died inside him. But that didn’t stop the fact that it was still fucking inside him.

Or more worryingly, that he now had blood on his hands. He was not a child anymore. He was gonna turn into a legal adult next year. But then again he was fucking dead…

How was he gonna get his driver’s license dead? Was Jeremy gonna have to drive him everywhere, while covered in cloth, like fucking Clara did for Vincent in the Immortal & the Restless? He punched the side of his head, getting his mind back on track. He needed to focus and get back on sniffing the track his father had left behind.

At least for a little longer he had a purpose to fulfil. He would figure out the rest later, leaving it in the hands of a hopefully wiser Michael from the future. Because that had worked “oh so well!” in the past. His wandering had taken him from the office to the bathroom. And he took the opportunity to very reasonably roll his eyes at himself. He had never considered himself particularly attractive, even less after his brother’s death.

He never washed his face, and his skin was full of scars from him not being careful and pimples he had popped too soon. Puberty was a fucking bitch. He at least liked to pride himself on showering semi-regularly. An achievement that few boys his age cared about. It didn’t help that the last compliment he had received was from a girl who’s name he didn’t remember, who had called him “discount Rick Astley”. But even that was ruined by the fucking metallic parasite inside him.

At least Jeremy had treated him semi-normally during their hole conversation the previous night. That was a plus he hadn’t expected. But then again he had expected to die in that ditch after what had happened. Jeremy just had a way to make him move when he usually didn’t want to. Like a mushroom getting pulled by a hippy wanting to eat it.

He hadn’t eaten anything in the last 48 hours.

He finally got out of the bathrooms, crossing the main party room to reach the backstage area. He couldn’t help but remember when he had locked Gregory in there. Pushing his body against the door, as he heard his little hands scratch at it until he gave up and started to sob. He had always been a jealous person. Of his brother for being normal, of Dean for being popular and respected, of Bryan for being strong and talented at sports and of Jeremy. Oh Jeremy. Fucking Jeremy Fitzgerald.

Jeremy Fitzgerald who barely got acne, Jeremy Fitzgerald who would get decent grades and Jeremy fucking Fitzgerald who had the sense to step back when Michael shoved his brother’s face down an animatronic’s throat. Jeremy’s girlfriends and Jeremy’s family and Jeremy who had actually taken action when his sister went missing, unlike a certain someone Michael could think of.

As he came back to his surroundings, he slapped the spare Freddy head that had been staring at him through his internal monologue and noticed then, something in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Music.

Chapter Text

The sound of a champagne bottle being popped pulled Bryan out of his contemplative state. He had felt a chill up his spine when looking at the abandoned location, but he had chucked it up to December being so near. Still, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the thought of the missing bodies possibly being below their feet. Unfortunately for him, Dean had noticed his change in demeanor.

“What? Getting cold feet?” Dean punched Bryan in the arm harder than he needed to.
“I told you not to worry! If a cop shows up we’ve got our fake IDs, and If that doesn’t work out Elon can just bail us out with the money. Or we can do a classic maneuver of evasion.” He wiggled his eyebrows, as If proud of the many times they had run with their tails between their legs, specifically for being caught underage drinking.
“No Derrick, that’s not the issue.”
“Oh, so there is an issue? What’s got your panties in a twist then? Need me to escort you-” Bryan punched Dean in order to make him shut his trashmouth. He would often forget who was the real bodyguard Elon had contracted and who was the parasyte tagging along.

“Enough Fighting! Put on the music already!! I don’t pay you two to fight!!!” Bryan shook the uneasy feeling off. He put one of the CD’s Elon had been gifted for his birthday and put it inside the player. He made sure that the speaker’s cord was correctly plugged and finally he pressed play, getting the party officially started.

Dean was paid no mind as his nose started bleeding, in fact he did not notice this fact until one of the girl’s enlightened him on its crooked condition. The teenager quickly excused himself and made his way towards the lake, assuming that Freddy’s would be both closed and cut off from the water grid by now. But as he cleaned himself he heard a “creak” coming from behind his back.

“Who’s there!” He shouted, and while no voice answered him, a door closing did.

The teenager who believed himself to already be a man, felt offended at the unseen stranger who had refused to answer him and closed a door on his face. So he got up and after making sure the bleeding had stopped, went on his way toward what could only be the door that had been closed before. The back entrance to the old and disused Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

He went to knock, but the door was so rusty and old that with that little push it opened on its own. And so it let the boy inside its darkened bowels. He stalked the hall in search of his prey, ignoring the drawings that had turned into weeping angel’s judging his intentions. Then again it was so dark he could barely see a fly, but he could still hear, and a creak on the old floorboard was all it took to localize his stalker.

“Bam!” Against the wall went the stranger. He had gotten him right in the throat. A few seconds of silence passed as Dean felt no struggled breathing against his arm. As someone started to hold it, trying to push it away. But still Dean was stronger.

Or so he thought before he felt a kick to his right leg that had the force of a baseball bat that had been thrown. It didn’t take his mind much recollecting to locate who that kick belonged to. For a moment his heart skipped a beat in fear, but as he remembered who he was dealing with, he calmed down and regained his composure before speaking.
“Michael…?” He asked tentatively, his breath filling up with a musty putrid smell.
“You smell like shit.”
“Hello Dean, nice to see you haven’t changed.” He tried to move away from his death grip, but alas, Michael wasn’t in his best shape at the moment. Perhaps in the past he could have dealt with something bigger than a child, but not anymore.

“Well, If changing means to stop showering, I’m glad I haven’t done that.” Michael disagreed with Dean’s claim, as he smelled of alcohol and sweat, strongly enough that Michael’s fucked up nose could still smell it from how pungent it was. And to add to that, it was not Michael's fault he had been unable to shower in the last few days. Sadly for him, Dean went on to point out that sweat he couldn’t sweat anymore and grime, weren’t his most distinctive scents.

“It’s funny… years later and you still smell of blood.” He paused as he felt Michael’s muscles tighten up in anticipation.
“It’s almost like you like it, you fucking psychopa-” Dean was forced to pause when he felt a set of damaged teeth pierce trough the flesh of his arm. He tried to jerk it away but Michael wouldn’t let it go, so with his left arm he punched the other’s jaw, making Michael fall flat to the ground with a thud. At least those boxing lessons his father would force him to attend served for something, still the punch left his knuckled bleeding.

“He bit me, he fucking bit me the bastard.” he whispered to himseld as he whipped the blood of his hand. Tonight was not the nice night he had predicted. He kicked Michael again and again while he was down. But the bastard wouldn’t move, or even make a sound. He got closer to his head, afraid that he would take the chance to bite his ear off, but he didn’t hear any breathing.

Seeing as Michael wasn’t getting up from the punch, he checked for a heartbeat and yet there was none. The severity of the situation quickly dawned on Dean, as he scrambled to try and wake up Michael, not through mouth to mouth, because that was gay, but through kicking him harder. Hoping that the pain would make him come back to life. But alas, he was dead cold.

Dean quickly panicked, questioning whether he should call the authorities, his dad or Bryan. But his mind quickly raced with worst case scenarios of him going to jail even though he had punched him in self defense and to add insult to injury, hadn’t intended to kill the bastard. At best they would call him a hero for killing the town maniac, but even then he would go to jail, and he knew what happened to young guys who went to jail, he didn’t want any of that.

And what If Bryan ran his mouth or If his father never let him live this down. No, Michael had to go. His mind quickly raced towards that lake that seemed darker and deeper in the night. So what If they found him there? They would think the bastard drowned, finally leaving Hurricane in peace. So he made up his mind and started dragging the unresponsive corpse towards the lake. Closing the door with a kick that could even rival Michael’s own.

“You look light, but you are a fucking heavy fag. What do you even eat for dinner? Fucking bricks?” Dragging corpses was harder than Dean had taught, he would need to ask his father to tip those people that worked at the local funeral home.

Finally, after a lot of sweat and tears, he arrived at the shore. Grabbing Michael and throwing his corpse as far as he could, which wasn’t very far at all. But the splash and the reflections he saw confirmed that he had succeeded at his goal.
“Au revoir, bitch!” he said, as he went on his way.

Not noticing the movement under the lake's surface.

In the meantime the Hurricane police department was receiving a call from a very special someone.
“Yes, Chief Burke on the line, What is it?
“Jesus Christ can’t they leave that place in peace.” He sighed. Caressing his face as he felt each day he gained one more gray hair.
“I will send two officer’s on the way, that should be more than enough for a bunch of hooligans.” He paused, waiting to see If the other party would answer, but all he heard was the payphone hanging up on him. He called Officer Vanessa A. Williams and Jeremy Bentley over to his office, tasking them with yet another round at Fazbear’s. At least this time it would be a different one.

Hopefully with no dead kids in sight.

Sadly for Mr. Burke, a certain birthday boy, had some trouble on his mind. Elon had grown bored of the music and dancing and talking and drinking and bustling of the party. And all of the alcohol he had consumed in a short period of time had started to put to sleep the front of his frontal lobe. And he had gotten the bright idea to try skinny dipping, in the middle of the night. With no visibility.

Much to Bryan’s dissatisfaction he didn’t say anything, as he wanted to get paid. To his Surprise Dean was the one to tell Elon it was a fucking stupid idea. To which Elon did not respond well.
“You all are just a bunch of fucking sissies, just watch me! And so he went towards the lake alone. As the people wanted to stay near the music and booze, and not near the freezing lake. Perhaps the hot tube in Elon’s house would have served him better to get some gals, at least in Dean’s opinion. He could only conclude that he had been right in his judgement, seeing as otherwise he wouldn’t have ended Michael’s pitiful existence.

Hopefully Elon would be too drunk to see or remember the body If asked. Dean grabbed a bottle and disinterested himself in the matter. Unlike Bryan, who couldn’t help but look back down the corridor next to the closed down location.

Elon was starting to undress himself, very unsuccessfully when the corner of his eye catched movement in the lake. At first his silly brain thought it was a shark, giving him second thoughts on whether or not he should get inside, but then he remembered great whites lived in salt water not lakes, and all his fears were dispelled. He had successfully shed his jacket off, but when he went for his shoes and socks his eyes finally caught a glimpse of a figure slowly emerging from the lake.

A fellow skinny dipper, Elon’s drunk brain thought. But much to his disappointment, the figure was fully clothed and to make things worse, he wasn’t a hot chick at all! Tragedy struck Elon’s heart as he realized this. Still, his mother had always taught him that manner’s were first, and so he went to greet his new potential friend, with a wave the figure failed to return.

Still, the figure continued to advance and so Elon slowly caught a glimpse of an unnatural glow covered by the figure’s wet hair. And so he did the polite thing and excused himself. Although the figure didn’t seem to hear or care.

“We don’t want to be Michael anymore.” The figure grabbed the fleeing Elon from his shoulder, with an Iron grip that could almost crush bones. And before Elon could mutter a scream, it had covered his mouth with force.
“shhhhhhh…” it whispered in his ear.
“it will only hurt for a moment, no more.”
And so, the struggling Elon was slowly dragged towards the lake, where his lungs filled forevermore.

Alas, they concluded after a close examination, that their chosen vessel was too small, too fragile and not spacious enough. Three could fit, perhaps, but not four, not even close. And they were already at their smallest possible size before losing the connection. No, it wouldn’t do.

So they abandoned the imperfect vessel where it stood, and went on to search for something more spacious. With a little more room. Something that wouldn’t rot as fast from being dead too long.

Thankfully for them, Bryan’s guilt was starting to eat at his heart. What If the kid had drowned? He was Oh, too young. He already had some smears of blood in his hands, and unlike Dean, he was not looking to cover them in red. So he left his drink as he put in a new CD, and went to check in his skinny dipping junior. Just in case he had drowned.

He could barely see a thing, as the abandoned building blocked the light’s they had brought to the party. and the only thing that shined in that dark autumn night was the moon through the clouds. No stars to be found. And neither was Elon.

Someone moved from behind the tree, and at first Bryan felt relief, until the long limbs and strange walk clued him in on Elon not being the one around. His next best guess was Michael, but it was difficult to tell with his wild hair wet and the strange way he walked, like something out of the zombies from Ed Wood’s “Plan 9”.

The first half had been rather trash.

His brain quickly debated whether to talk to him, but it seemed Michael had been the one to take the initiative. He slowly approached him in a straight line, tripping on an unseen object but still walking onward. A chill ran down Bryan’s spine as he realized that something was wrong with Michael, not just his walking, His finger’s didn’t have the right shape, and his leg seemed to have been bent. But most confusing of all, his eyes were closed as he walked in a straight line towards Bryan.

Bryan started to run, but it was already too late. He felt his body press against the pizzerias exterior walls as a hand held his head, and then ringing in his ears. And his head went against the wall, again, and again, and again, and again. At one point he stopped hearing the smashes, stopped feeling his own blood drip against the brick and stopped seeing the wall get closer and further with each push. Before he knew it, he was dead, sliding against the wall as they assessed whether he was even suitable to begin with or not.

“Too big.” They concluded. For how would they reach his fingers and his brain as they stretched? Or command his long legs as he walked. No, he was not the one. They needed something better, but fresh. And so their sensors heard the sounds, and counted the party goers beyond the wall, who had not heard anything over the loud speaker blasting Electronic music.

So they showed themselves as they were.

The stampede of teenager’s that followed broke poor Becky’s neck, who had fallen down and gotten a bloody nose of her own before life went out of her mind.

“You are all my children. Now. Please stay still for a moment.” Everyone scattered, and as the mechanical beast stalked to find their perfect prey, it heard a door close behind it. Of course, a trapped prey was the easiest to catch, why should the spider run if the fly has already fallen in the fly trap. And so, it followed, abandoning Becky’s corpse, and more out of disinterest than out of kindness, letting go of the witnesses at what would be later known as the Freddy’s Pizza Party Massacre (trademarked by Fazbear Entertainment).

One of Michael’s fingernails fell off as the monster opened the closed establishment’s door once more. Making sure to close it behind them as they searched for any signs of where the teenager was. A knocked chair here, a moved table there and an opened bathroom door here. A ripped poster that had been in perfectly good condition before was all the critters needed to figure out the trajectory Dean Derrick had followed. Although to be quite honest they had simply followed the banging of the back door. It had been jammed by Dean’s leg when leaving the crime scene. He was starting to regret having given it such a strong push.

“Dean is a good name, we like it. Just the right size.” The boy stopped in his tracks , looking back at the approaching menace that now had one of its arms out of Michael’s mouth. Having made a quick stop on its way to grab some tools from the kitchen. Michael’s hand held a pizza cutter, while Ennard’s hand held a meat cleaver. They were feeling like having meat that night. Chicken meat that is.

“The Right Size For Fun That Is!” Dean banged on the door harder and harder, hoping that one of the escapees would open it from the other side, but he was not that lucky, the first thing he felt was the meat cleaver cutting through his skin, then through his muscles, and finally through his liver. Blood spluttered from his mouth as he continued to bang on the door while attempting to not drown in his own blood. The cleaver hit once again on his lung this time, but what scared him the most in the moment was the pizza cutter approaching his eyes.

“YOU ARE RUINING IT!” one of the cacophonous voices shouted, but it was too late. Dean’s left eye had been cut in two, leaving technicolor jello to mix with the blood of the injuries in his face. Now his scream sounded more like a gurgle, as blood slid down his air duct and clogged his vocal chords. The Cleaver stopped cutting, but the pizza cutter did not.

After seeing that the arm wouldn’t cease, the cleaver fell down one last time, but instead of a pained scream, all that left Michael’s body was a maddening laugh.

“Stop. Now.” But the deed had already been done, and so they had ruined their perfect chance to abandon Michael’s ass. The hunt now had to continue. And worst of all, this time they had let witnesses see them. They had become “ Sloppy, uncoordinated and messy.” one chastised the others.

Resentment was starting to brew within one of them.

Chapter Text

The officer’s arrived at the scene of the crime expecting to find drunk teenagers, and at worst, one of them passed out due to an intoxication. But what they found was worse than anything they could have predicted. At least If they had been in an ethylic coma they could have had the possibility of waking up.

By midnight Chief Burke had already sent detectives, forensics and paramedics (just in case there was someone still alive hiding). Two years later the old pizzeria was once again the scene of an investigation. But this time they did find the bodies, four in total. Well, to be more specific, four and a quarter. A severed arm that didn’t seem to match any of the other bodies, and was already in an advanced state of decay. The forensic team had dated it to Saturday night, give or take.

But the weirdest thing of it all, was that it had been severed post-mortem. There was no blood (that belonged to the arm, that is) at the scene. Which meant someone would have needed to bring it there. Perhaps the owner of said arm? The murderer? Or had the kid’s found it somewhere?

It couldn’t belong to the new victims, but it was also too recent to be something left from the “missing” incident in 85’. Nothing made any sense.

After taking the photos, and searching the lakeside up and down. They sent the bodies and severed arms to have an autopsy down, hoping they could be identified. They had some hope for the dead teenager’s as most of their faces were just damaged at worst and intact at best. But unless they had whoever the arm belonged to on file already, they doubted they could guess who it was.

As soon as Jeremy found himself at The New & Improved Freddy’s, Mr. Newton’s sweet serenading telephone voice greeted him talking about the horrible amalgamation that Toy Foxy had become, and how the staff had started to call it “The Mangle”. Jeremy would have called it the “We are getting sued” hazard, but he guessed it wasn’t as catchy as a one word name. Still, what interested him the most was what Mr. Newton proceeded to say.

It was good to know there were rumours, seeing as how many children had gone missing lately, something to do with Michael’s father and his freaky experiments. But of course, the brand denied any wrong-doings, just like they denied their new animatronics being unsafe. No wonder the police had failed to find Cassidy’s remains in 1985, the company was only good at being uncooperative.

It seemed like Mr. Newton had completely forgotten that Jeremy had been there in the morning when he had failed to locate Mr. Miller. Of course the dayshift guard hadn’t seen anything, he wasn’t even there to begin with! Either that or he had come back later that day, but something in his gut told Jeremy that, that was quite unlikely.

Jeremy wasn’t particularly surprised when Michael had failed to show up at Freddy’s that midnight. He wanted to be mad, exasperated even. But he couldn’t do it. Not with the gnawing feeling in the back of his mind telling him that something had gone very wrong again. He had only seen a part of the thing that according to Michael, had crawled inside him while he slept, and just the thought alone made his skin crawl.

It was like If a facehugger and a terminator had had a horrible baby. Jeremy was somewhat glad that unlike the victim’s of those two, Michael was still somewhat alive. Emphasis on somewhat. The last time he had seen him his skin had started to lose elasticity and had started to look greenish in hue, like a Frankenstein's monster. But what worried Jeremy the most were the tears.

How much would be left of Michael If they managed to get that thing out of him?

He mindlessly flashed his light at Mangle in the hallway. The movements had become automatic by this point. Which on one hand was good, because it at least felt easier than driving, but on the other it meant that his brain could wander wherever it wanted while his hands and eyes did all the work. And of course, that night it had decided to keep wandering towards his missing partner in their killer stopping mission.

He had known Michael for a while and had learned through trial and error that Michael did not like to have his appearance commented on. Obviously nobody liked getting clowned on, and Jeremy included himself in the no clown category, unlike Michael. But he also disliked positive comments.

He remembered with a smile on his face, when Becky had told Michael that she liked his hair, and Michael, the gentleman that he was, looked at her as If she had grown a second head with a face of disgust. He still felt a little bit bad for Becky, but she thankfully got over it quickly after telling the tea to her friends. Which in turn snowballed into a rumor of Michael being gay, because that was the justification Becky’s friends had given her for him rejecting her.

Michael had put that fire out quickly by simply kicking anyone who would comment on it, including Dean. No one was safe. Well, he was, but that was because Jeremy never commented on the matter, having his own insecurities about it, to put it lightly. Seeing Michael kick everyone else over it had also been a great motivator. If it wasn’t for the physical pain, he would have hired Michael as his study coach. Not because of his smarts, but because he was sure the threat of violence would have gotten him to apply himself harder.

He found himself looking at nothing with a stupid smile on his face as he heard Toy Chica crawling out of the left vent, he scrambled to get the uncomfortable Freddy mask on his face. He then held his breath as the animatronic looked him up and down. After Chica left he saw that it was already close to 5 A.M. He continued to hold his breath after he realized he had been thinking about the same guy for five fucking hours. He was gonna have to take a long cold shower to get his head back on straight and think of what was important.

That was, If his dumb brain wanted to survive, which it didn’t seem to mind. Seeing as it was thinking of Michael instead of the killer robots five feet away. Jeremy looked at the clock on the desk once more, knowing well that one hour was gonna feel like six. At least If he died he would be inside a robot and not the other way around.

It seemed there were small reliefs in life, even at Freddy’s.

He heard a clinking and clanking, his flashlight confirming that it was good old foxy galloping towards him. How could a cheap giant robot move like that? Jeremy preferred not to know. All he knew was that his rusted hook was sharper than ever after it had decayed into a sharp tetanus giving point.

He finally reset himself, going back on his merry way after having captured Jeremy’s full attention for a few minutes. But a few minutes was all it took. Above his head Jeremy heard cables and chains hitting each other, as static started to play above his head. Jeremy kept his head low, trying not to alert her that he had noticed his presence. He rummaged through the bag he and Michael had acquired during his first dayshift. Not because he thought it would do much, but because it was his last resort. He grabbed one of the bats and finally looked up.

And sure enough, it was above his head. Looking like a rattlesnake ready to attack.

Jeremy’s reflexes quickly quicked it as his brain registered the Mangle’s first movement, He put the wooden bat between her and his head and hoped to dear god that the thing’s teeth wouldn’t get his hands. Thankfully for him, the gamble paid off, leaving the animatronic confused for enough time for Jeremy to get out of its way and leave the wooden bat behind.

He could hear the music box needing to be wound up once more, but he had more present dangers to look out for, like the fact that the robot had left the ceiling to chase him on the floor. Hoping to god and the universe that the thing wouldn’t be able to catch up, Jeremy began running like the devil himself was chasing him to collect his soul. He barely avoided Foxy who was coming once more out of Parts and Service to give Jeremy a piece of his mind about getting his eye circuits busted.

Balloon Boy also attempted to chase after him, but seeing as Jeremy was running and the little rotund thing couldn’t catch up, it was unable to steal his flashlight batteries. He still said “Hello” to him because Jeremy supposed his programmer’s had wanted him to be nice, but all that did for him at the moment was alert the other toy animatronics of both his presence and location at the Game Area. Lovely, Jeremy couldn’t help but hope the place would burst aflame one day. Hopefully a lightning strike or god’s own fucking will would condemn the place to ashes and dust.

He could see the cable’s that travelled through the Marionette’s tracks moving, which meant he was fucked. He slowly watched the silhouette at the prize corner rise from its sleep as its eyes focused on him.

And then the bell signalling the change of shift finally rang.

Jeremy started breathing again as he noticed his heart pounding hard against his chest, wanting to break free from the being that had withheld it from oxygen for lord knows how long. He held his chest as he let his legs give out, sliding against the cold wall tiles next to the pizzeria’s doors. He felt like he could pass out right there from pure exhaustion, but his body did not want to give him the gift of unconsciousness just yet. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins. He continued his ragged breathing as he looked once more towards the prize corner. But the puppet that resided there had thankfully gone back to its holding cell.

He started breathing rhythmically once more, letting the cold from the wall bring his senses back to reality. He wasn’t gonna have breakfast that morning, that was for sure. The indoor light’s came back on, and as he started to walk towards the safe-room to change his clothes, someone knocked on the door.

Jeremy opened it expecting Mr. Newton or better yet, the mysterious Dave Miller, but all he got instead was a police badge being shoved in his face. Jeremy simply sighed as he tried to remember what Mr. Newton had taught him.
“Hello officers, Before you say anything, I am obligated to tell you that Fazbear entertainment is not responsible for food poisoning, due to us not being the restaurant producing the pizza we sell. We are also not liable for lack of pest control, as it is not our fault rat’s like us so much, neither are we for any strange fluids to be found on the floor those are definitely the guests faults-” Jeremy well practised high speed speech was then interrupted by the officer who had been showing him his badge a minute earlier.
“That is not-”
“I’m gonna be done soon, please.” Jeremy looked the man in his eyes.
“I want to say this as much as you want to hear it, but I almost got fired yesterday, I’m not taking my chances.” He continued, assuming the two officers had come to see the establishment about something he hadn’t listed yet.
“Fazbear Entertainment is not liable for any lost limbs, drug side-effects, mutilations, lacerations or death produced by the guests coming into contact with any of our animatronic entertainers. Thank you!” Jeremy’s smile during the last part did not reach his eyes, and despite Mr. Bentley being qualified, it didn’t take a detective to see how tired the teenager was.

“That is…” He coughed. The younger officer lady looking back at him with worry in her eyes.
“...lovely to know, Mr. Fitzgerald. But I am afraid my coworker and I aren’t here for the company you work for, but for you as an individual.” Jeremy tried to keep a straight and serene face, as his brain panicked thinking about all of the crimes he had committed in the past few days.
“Now, don’t be afraid, you didn’t do anything wrong. We just wanna ask a few questions about a friend of yours, would that be fine?” Jeremy thought it over for a little bit, and seeing as he didn’t fancy getting shot at for being uncooperative, he chose to comply. The two officers escorted him towards the police car, right as Mr. Newton made his way towards the closed pizzeria. Jeremy simply waved awkwardly towards the man trying to not take in the man’s horrified expression.

He couldn’t quite tell If the man was horrified at his new employee’s seemingly wrongful arrest, or at the police being on Freddy’s premises at all. Something in Jeremy’s heart told him it was unfortunately the latter.

The police car was cold, that was the first thing Jeremy felt after putting his seatbelt on. He had not looked at the Officer’s faces when giving his own version of Mr. Newton’s corporate speech, but he did recognize them from his first time at Michael’s basement. Which probably meant that they recognized him as well. Had they connected any dot’s between Michael’s involvement with their driving instructor’s death, or was it something else? Before Jeremy could attempt reading their identities of their name-plates, the pair of enforcers introduced themselves.

“Hello, I’m afraid that despite having seen each other before we failed to introduce ourselves to you and your friend. I am Jeremy Bentley, and this is my lovely coworker Vanessa A. Williams.” He pointed towards the younger officer, who already had a notebook at the ready.
“All you need to do is answer her questions. Although we would appreciate any information regarding the topic.” The man coughed awkwardly as he started driving away from the industrial area and towards the suburbs.

It seemed they were planning on repeating the same dynamic they had used on him when trying to find his house. Although she seemed to be stalling, clicking her ballpoint pen’s point in and out, as If waiting for something to happen. As they got on the road, she seemed to have calmed down. Vanessa soon started asking the questions.
“So, Jeremy Fitzgerald If I remember correctly?”
Jeremy couldn’t tell If it was a question or a statement from how unsure her voice was, so he settled on nodding along, just like he did in his chemistry class when he wouldn’t understand what his teacher was explaining.
“Good, I’ll cut to the chase, when was the last time you saw Michael Afton?”

Jeremy panicked once again. As his brain scrambled for anything, any excuse… and it came back empty handed, fuck. Mr. Bentley quickly provided at his hesitation, feeling that he had already cracked the egg.
“I thought he was living with your family for the time being. Has he stopped staying at your residence?” Jeremy looked from side to side, as If trying to find an answer that wouldn’t sound batshit insane. Eventually he settled on a half truth, since those were usually harder to disprove than a full lie.

“He was living with us for a little while, But then on the night of the 8th he left after we hung out at the mall. And I haven’t seen him since.” He concluded, clapping his hands in a “that that’s that” manner.
“And you and your parents did not question him about his whereabouts?” Jeremy shook his head in response to Vanessa’s judgemental questioning.
“No, we just assumed he had run away like he had done back in 83’.” Vanessa muttered something about Jeremy’s parent’s being incompetent, before questioning the teenager further about his lack of worry towards whom she had assumed was his only friend.
“Did he at least tell you something about where he was headed?” Jeremy shook his head from side to side once more. He could tell Officer Vanessa was getting mad at him and his lack of care. If only she knew. And then, a brilliant idea came to him. But he needed to play his cards right.

“Although… thinking about it. He did mention something rather strange.” Now he had the two officer’s attention. Especially Mr. Bentley’s, “Anything that could be useful, you can tell us, kid. We are just trying to find your friend.” That got the man an elbow to the side, courtesy of Vanessa for, Jeremy guessed, saying too much. Not like he hadn’t guessed what they were questioning him about anyways. The real enigma was why. Before he could continue luring them towards where he wanted them to go, the pair of coworkers started to argue.

“What! He deserves to know.” Vanessa couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the immaturity of her senior, “I can’t believe I have to tell someone older than me how to do his job.”
“He is just a kid!” The man was too soft, having kid’s of his own.
“He could be involved.” She tried to appeal to his reasoning, but alas, sentimentality had already taken root in the middle-aged man’s heart, “It’s his only friend.” He whispered. They looked at each other, and eventually Vanessa had no option but to crack.
“Ok, but If anything goes wrong you are the one explaining it to the chief, not me!”

Their attention was now back at Jeremy. Who was feeling rather uncomfortable after having overheard everything. And slightly offended at their assumption of Michael being his only friend correct. He could have been popular If he had wanted to. Or so he liked to believe. Still, the indignation he had felt quickly shattered when Mr. Bentley broke the news.

“We have found Michael’s arm, but not his body.” The more Jeremy processed that sentence, the less he understood. Any additional information the officer’s provided failed to help him, like the fact that Michael was already dead when it had been cut. Or that it was at Freddy’s. Jeremy’s head raced with questions that he could not ask, had Micahel’s father or someone else dismembered him? Was Micahel’s head just stuck somewhere unable to move? Was he actually dead this time? What about the thing inside him?

Jeremy felt the same as when Mangle had chased him. But now he was afraid, trapped, he needed to find him he needed to-

Mr. Bentley quickly grabbed him from behind, as Vanessa locked the car doors from the inside. They weren’t going to let him leave.

Afterall, he was their only lead.

Chapter Text

Jeremy could hear the dripping of liquid somewhere close by, but he couldn’t quite make out where it was coming from in the dark. The smell didn’t help, it felt dizzying. He kept trying to reassure himself about the fact that it was just methane, but that did not eliminate the fact he was in the city’s bowels.

He should have thought twice before following behind Mr. Bentley. Everything had felt so sudden that morning, it didn’t help that any semblance of a plan he had formulated had been completely derailed after they had spotted Michael. Or what remained of him at least.

As he grabbed the handrail stopping him from falling into the waste, he tried to recount what had happened in his head. He had tried to mislead the officers by taking them towards Mr. Afton’s house, in the hopes of making them find the torture chamber, but then they had received a call that had made them change course.

They then drove towards a completely different suburban neighborhood. Mr. Bentley got out of the car and soon enough Vanessa followed behind him, making the mistake of leaving the front doors unlocked. They ran towards the direction the scared grandma had pointed them towards, and Jeremy took the opportunity.

He wiggled himself between the front seats, trying not to touch the claxon or the brakes. He awkwardly fixed the wrinkles in his shirt when getting out, his mother’s words about looking “presentable” getting to him in an unfortunate moment. The well intentioned lady tried to stop him from following behind the police, but her grip had grown too weak with the years to stop the healthy teenager.

He ran on the asphalt not really caring If cars were approaching on the road. Jeremy felt grateful for having a strong stomach, having witnessed everything that he had. But seeing an arm clawing out of his friend’s mouth as he lowered himself into the underground was testing his limits.

He was grateful about having been denied the pleasure of changing out of his work uniform. Seeing as he wouldn’t have brought his heavy duty flashlight with him otherwise. Sight was quite the advantage against the adverse environment the sewers presented. Although the ground was still rather slippery, he had to be careful with his step.

He took a deep breath (which he regretted instantly) and started to hear for a clue of where Michael had gone. He then heard a gunshot. To the left it was. He started walking faster as he made sure he was hanging onto the railing, he could see maggots floating downstream. They sure were wiggling happily unafraid of drowning as they approached what looked like a small waterfall.

Jeremy couldn’t help but think of how his pet goldfish had probably perished in a place similar to this. Along with many other animals. Such as the huge fucking rat he had just seen crawling a few steps ahead. What the fuck did that thing eat? Humans?! He started running faster, not because of the mutant rat, definitely not because of the mutant rat. Were there sewer crocodile’s in Utah? He hoped not. He had enough with the Afton’s.

He then stepped on something squishy. He looked down at first fearing having ended some poor slugs life, but when he looked closer he realized it was meaty and slender and Oh! God! That was Michael’s finger. Jeremy awkwardly scraped it off his foot, debating for just a second whether he should pick it up or not. To reconstruct Michael of course. But then he looked at it again, and decided that it belonged in the sewers, and so Michael’s remaining piece of his left hand was lost forever.

It was his ring finger. Rest in pieces.

Finally, another gunshot was heard, much closer this time, Jeremy took a sharp turn only to see officer Bentley shooting at apparently a bunch of very important looking pipes. But then he saw something move, an arm. And beneath that arm Michael’s head followed the movement. He charged at officer Bentley, seemingly unaffected by the new holes being created in Michael’s body. The movement was jerky, leaving what remained of his arm drag behind as If it wasn’t still attached, and to the creature’s concern, it wasn’t.

They looked at their prey through the peepholes in Michael’s chest, choking him with their left arm and Michael’s right. He would do, she determined, only for a temporary time, but he would be enough to get out of their new self-made flesh prison. He had been a fluke, nothing else, it was just their first try, they would get it right the next, or the next, or the next. She could feel it. The others were growing impatient.

“What are you doing?! Help me!” Vanessa’s shout finally put Jeremy out of his trance as he threw himself onto Michael’s back, trying unsuccessfully at giving the officer a second to catch his breath. Then Jeremy felt a jolt run through his body, for a moment there he thought his heart had stopped, and then the pain came.
“That fucking hurts!” Vanessa simply shrugged as she peeled the now unmoving Michael off of Mr. Bentley. Who thanked her as he used her body as a crutch.

After recovering from the shock, Jeremy slowly approached Michael. Hoping that perhaps the shock had made Ennard short-circuit, like it had done in the past. He tapped the body once, then twice, but nothing, no reaction came to Michael.
“I think he’s-” It was, in fact, not dead.

Jeremy found this out through the magic of being suddenly underwater and unable to breath.

The current was stronger than it looked from above, just as the underground canal was deeper than he had ever imagined. Everytime he managed to resurface to breathe he would have to time his breaths perfectly in order to not ingest a bunch of maggots. It didn’t help that he was getting disoriented, both fighting against the current and the metallic arm trying to grab at his form. Through the water he could see the reflection of Vanessa’s flashlight, but whatever she was screaming was muffled by all of the water getting in his ears.

The water was getting shallower and Jeremy took the opportunity to try and get a grip on the bottom floor, but it was covered in what Jeremy hoped was mostly mud. He tried and tried as the arm kept encroaching on him, only for then to fall.
It wasn’t the fact that he had fallen what clued Jeremy in on the fact he had just fallen from the top of a low head dam, it was the feeling of being a lost sock in a washing machine. He could feel all kinds of things scraping at his skin, but it was hard to tell what was trash and what was Ennard’s wires. As his heart started beating faster in plea of him opening his mouth to get some oxygen, his brain managed to half-remember the P.S.A. “If you find yourself in a Drowning Machine, don’t panic, tuck into a ball, then push yourself off of the dam’s wall when you are near the bottom. Swim beyond the boiling point.”

Almost hearing his heart give out, Jeremy finally resurfaced, this time getting helped up the canal´s edge by both Vanessa and Mr. Bentley. The boy took a moment to catch his breath, only for a chorus of screaming to interrupt any questions he was about to ask regarding the creature’s whereabouts. It had fallen into the drowning machine with him. And it didn’t seem to have the knowledge he or Michael possessed regarding how to get out.

At least he knew Michael couldn’t drown, in the traditional sense of the word at least. He gripped his shirt as he felt a sense of dread overcome him. He tried to control his expression, to stay still as a rock, to not think about it. But despite his efforts his throat still clenched and he felt the tears run down his check in spite of his efforts not to blink. He held his head up high, as he hoped the scream’s of the thing that had taken Michael would drown out the quiet sobbing enough for the officer’s not to know.

He could only hope those were screams of suffering.

Sadly for Jeremy, the screams soon stopped. He would have liked to get some satisfaction from seeing that thing crawl up the opposite canal wall with its tail between its legs. But it wearing what remained of Michael robbed him of any satisfaction he could have felt at the sight. Without thinking he grabbed the lantern and threw it.
“You took my best friend, you sick bastard!” He was gonna go for another throw, but the two officer’s behind him grabbed him just in time to stop him from throwing more valuable equipment away.

Still, as Mr. Bentley continued to grab Jeremy as he tried to calm him with unheard words, Vanessa readied herself to take another shot, only for the creature to start convulsing on the spot. Vanessa still fired regardless, but the shot missed.

And then Michael vomited.

As the corpse fell down to the moist floor, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut, two masses of wires came out of the pile, one big, one small, only to scatter into the shadows of the sewers. After a few hand signs between officers that Jeremy’s dying brain couldn’t comprehend were exchanged, Vanessa went after the smaller lump, leaving the two Jeremys behind with Michael.

The quiet sounds of squeaking rats and running water reigned supreme once more in the sewers. The two of them got on the move without exchanging a word, both still processing what they had just witnessed. Jeremy was on the lookout for any bridge’s or passageways that would lead him to the other side of the canal without having to cross by swimming. Anything but that. He would even kiss a slug If it could magically transport him to the other side. Sadly, slugs did not have magical abilities, unlike robots, apparently. At least being focused on a task was keeping his brain cool. Mr. Bentley was not having such luck, seeing as he had just learned that robots were now advanced enough to control teenagers. Was Michael the only robot? Had he been a robot for four days? Had he been a robot when they met?

The man shook his head. That couldn’t be, the autopsy report had revealed that he had only been rotting since the 8th. Poor kid. As his mind raced, he quickened his march without noticing, making Jeremy stop him when they passed an obvious bridge that would lead them towards Michael.
“Jeremy, you can’t go.”
“Did I ask?”
“It is a statement, not an answer.” Jeremy continued to walk towards the opposite direction, he would go, flashlight or not.

Still, Mr. Bentley grabbed Jeremy by the shoulders, making him look into his eyes as he explained, patiently, “Look, you are just a kid, I know I don’t know the whole story and that’s why I need you. Vanessa was right when she said you are our only lead in this case. And while you can’t save Michael, you could help stop anyone suffering whatever the hell fate has befallen him.” Jeremy kept looking back, so Mr. Bentley understood he had to use the big guns, “Agh, I have failed many kids. Susie, your sister and now Michael. All for not keeping a close enough eye on them. I would not be able to forgive myself If I let the same thing happen to you.” Finally the man let go.

“So just stay close, you got that?” Jeremy breathed in. He agreed, looking behind him one final time. Just in case.

“You won’t die.”

Michael awoke with a jolt. His whole body felt numb, but now to the point that he couldn’t even feel some parts. At first he tried to stand up using his left arm, but no contact was made with the floor, something was wrong. He used his right arm to feel around the area and Oh! There it was. Bone. It seemed his one missing eye and a few skin-strips were not the only things he was missing anymore. Great! Fucking wonderful! Forget driving a car! Now he couldn’t even drive a truck illegally. It had all been for nothing!

Thankfully, his right arm was still mostly intact, allowing himself to finally get up and feel for the wall close by. He could hear running water close by, and he wasn’t taking his chances anymore. God knew what he had done after Dean had thrown him into the lake, God knew what made him deserve to lose his left arm from the elbow down. Wherever he was, it was darker, and Michael doubted that God would be watching regardless of the lighting.

He advanced slowly, making sure to always have his remaining hand touching the wall on the right. He knew that it was meant as a tactic to get out of a labyrinth, but he had no fucking idea of where he was or where he was going, so he simply assumed it would hopefully lead to the same result. At one point he also started questioning If perhaps he had lost his remaining eye, seeing as he couldn’t see shit.

Finally, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. And slowly changed his course towards it. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, a face he recognized (that wasn’t his father) would greet him.

Mr. Bentley and Jeremy continued their search at the pace of a crawl, mostly due to the alight injuries the both of them had suffered at the hands of Ennard. They were not particularly fatal, unless you counted the possible infections and diseases they had picked. It was mostly soreness and pain what kept them from catching up to the mass of wires that had escaped Michael.

Jeremy would shine the flashlight down their possible paths while Mr. Bentley would have his gun at the ready in case anything. Anything moved. And it did.

A gunshot and a shout resounded down the tunnels, as Michael gripped his side, now he had even more holes. He was looking more like swiss cheese and less like a corpse every minute that passed in those wretched halls.
“Hands up!” He quickly complied, putting his arms in the air as he closed his eyes. Before all he saw was darkness, but now the light was burning his cornea.
“On your knees!” Hmm, yes, Michael had heard that voice somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite put a face to it. BAM!

There went his right kneecap.
“Bitch!” He tried to take a breath, but was unable to, “That was my good leg!” Finally, the flashlight lowered to the knee he was hugging, allowing him to identify the blond officer who had taken him to Jeremy’s home.
“Hands on the air!” she repeated.
“I only have one hand?!”

Michael felt relieved when the officer finally lowered her gun. Only to flash him once more with the electric yellow light.

“I don’t know you, lady!” Vanessa continued to observe him, trying to catch whether or not he had come to life or If there were simply more robots controlling him from the inside. She was so concentrated in fact, that she failed to notice the quiet steps behind her.

She readied herself to shoot as Michael tackled her. But she wasn’t quick enough, falling in the water just as Jeremy had earlier that morning. As soon as she resurfaced, afraid of being dragged to the bottom by the teen or a gator, she realised a pair of green glowing eyes were looking at her from the shore above. Afraid of going back in the water after what it had been through. She swam ashore, thankful that they were far away from the low head dam. And then helped Michael climb up.

She tried to shoot at the creature once more. But it had already run away in an unknown direction.
“You owe me.” Michael joked. But Vanessa’s glare quickly made him shut his mouth, as they went in the direction where they had come from.

The sound was getting closer, but Mr. Bentley couldn’t quite locate where it was coming from, they were at a crossroad, the echo did not help, as it made even the brief words he and Jeremy would exchange confusing to decipher. And he wasn’t in the mood to waste bullets on shadows. A scratch on the left, a bang on the right, all followed by the light and the barrel that the two of them were holding.

Something cold grabbed Jeremy’s arm.

The mass of wires that now revealed itself from its hiding spot was now bigger than the one having come out of Michael’s mouth, Pieces of tin, iron and scrap reflected the flashlights glow onto its many colored eyes, making it look more like a giant ant than a human. Mr. Bnetley shot at it, once, twice, but the creature just wouldn’t let go of Jeremy’s arm, and he was running out of bullets.

Finally, the trigger clicked without a bang, informing the officer that his weapon of choice had failed. He threw the gun at the monster, hoping that it would at least distract it, but nothing. He took his baton and started banginging it against the creature’s hand, Jeremy bit his tongue as the force was clearly hurting him more than the metal creature, but it was enough to get it distracted.
“The PERFECT Size.” the cacophony of voices sung, as they grabbed the baton and bit into the fresh flesh of Jeremy Bentley’s arm, not tasting, but feeling the metallic iron slide across their jagged teeth.

Mr. Bentley’s hand dropped the baton, as he instructed, “RUN! Just fucking RU-” Before he could finish, a mess of wires had entered his larynx, clogging any hope of sound escaping out of his throat anymore. Jeremy watched the light dim in the man’s eyes before the creature started boring into him. Jeremy grabbed the flashlight and ran, his last sight of Officer Bentley being the man’s puppetered head looking straight at him.

For some minutes Jeremy ran alone across the dark wet corridor’s, before he started hearing the heavy footsteps that were coming right at him. He did not dare to look behind anymore. Finally, somehow having managed to remember every turn and run past the low headed dam, he saw a glimpse of hope, officer Vanessa illuminated by the daylight coming from the streets above. At first she looked hopeful, but her smile quickly fell when she saw what was running behind Jeremy. She gestured for him to follow behind as she started to climb up the slimy metal stairs. Jeremy did not look back.

Jeremy was blinded by the harsh midday light, but his eyes quickly adjusted, focusing first on the person sitting in the backseat of the car.

Jeremy ran towards Michael at full speed, giving him a rib breaking hug that could leave even the strongest of W.W.E. wrestlers without air. And of course, Michael had to ruin it.
“This is gay.”
“Shut the fuck up! I missed you, you idiot.” Jeremy just wouldn’t let go, almost as If he feared Michael would evaporate into thin air. Still, that did not leave Michael off the hook, “Never, ever, fucking scare me like that again! You hear that you dumbass! Next time I will be the one to finally put you to rest!” Jeremy’s particular “I missed you.” was punctuated by a smack to the head. Michael could see that even If you died, some things would just never change.
“I’ll be waiting.”

Vanessa drove off, quickly leaving the sewer monster far behind in her rear-view mirror.

Chapter Text

Vanessa had been completely quiet during the entire car ride. Only telling them she would inform the Chief of Police of everything before dropping them off at Jeremy’s house. And without waving them goodbye, she left. Jeremy knocked on the door, and was grateful that no one was home. Thankfully his home keys had stayed on his tool belt, and although they felt as slimy and horrible to hold as his own clothes did, he still got a good grip on them to open the door.

As much as he wanted to take a shower at that moment, he did the bare minimum a host could do, and offered Michael the honor of going first in the shower. He debated whether putting his pajamas on without showering, or sitting on the sofa without changing his clothes was grosser, but a look towards the stairs was all he needed to sit his tired ass on the sofa. He would offer himself for laundry duty If his mother complained. He just needed to rest.

Michael had wanted to ask Vanessa If he could keep his arm, not because he had any hopes that it could be attached back and still somehow work, but because he had always thought that weird memorabilia like that was what made a home. Sadly he was sure that the answer would have been a stern, “No.” He checked himself in the mirror, which was a mistake.

Some of the skin around his eyes was peeling off, looking like fish scales. First he pulled one, then another, but the more he pulled, the more would rise, like some puberty themed hydra. He eventually gave up after seeing that all he had done was worsen it, and started the bathtub. Boiling hot water formed mist that he could barely feel on his skin. He finally sat down, scrubbing away at his skin gently, to prevent it from tearing apart further. At least he could see that most of his bones were still somewhat intact.

The same could not be said of his once luscious locks. At least he knew from his father that he was gonna start balding eventually. Still he would have hoped for a little more time with them, now he could see them slowly making their way towards the drain, clogging it. At least showers would be shorter from then on, If he was allowed to stay there, or at a house for that matter. Finally he rinsed himself and got out of the bathtub, happy that he had avoided falling and hitting his head.

After drying, he dressed himself with dry clothes, opening the door to shout, “Ready!” but Jeremy did not answer. Michael walked into the living room, only to find him completely knocked out. He clapped, he shaked, he insulted, but nothing would wake Jeremy UP. How long had he slept in the past few days? Michael could only guess somewhere between very little and not at all.

Taking advantage of the fact that Jeremy couldn’t complain, he pushed his body to the side to make some space for himself on the sofa. Anyone could tell the other teen’s neck was gonna hurt like a bitch when he finally got up. He tried for a little bit to get him to have a better posture, but all he got for his efforts was a newly repositioned Jeremy taking up more space in the sofa and some drool on his fingers.
After wiping his hands on the armchair, Michael finally got a hold of the controller, zapping until finally something caught his eye. He made himself comfortable and turned the volume up so that the television would drown out Jeremy’s snores.

It did not.

Still, Clara’s and Vlad’s bickering was a good enough distraction, especially considering it was not a re-run for once. This episode was a follow up on the arc of Vlad having moved into Clara’s apartment to help take care of the child he still denied was his. But this time, Child Protective services were involved. As the child had been unable to attend obligatory school during the day, and yet still, in spite of living with them , Vlad still refused to acknowledge the child was his.

“How can you say he is not yours? Everytime he goes in the sun his skin gets burnt to a crisp!”
“Oh, Clara, he is just pale! It happens to the best of humans!”
“He has to use 666 SPF sunscreen!”
“What a coincidence! That’s the same one I use.”
Clara’s actor dramatically flipped her hair before shaking her boyfriend.
“Oh Vlad! What are we gonna do? They are gonna take him away from me!” For once Vlad thought carefully about what Clara was saying, before going back into the closet and bringing back an umbrella.
“Perhaps he may use this? My childhood umbrella!” Clara couldn’t help but cover her mouth as the meaning hit her, “Oh, Vlad! Are you sure?”
“Of course, anything for you dear.” he winked.
“Anything but child support, I see!” She frowned. But it wasn’t a very serious one.

“May I kiss you, Clara?” Vlad asked, his voice silky smooth.
“Oh! Vlad! I thought you’d never ask again!” and so they kissed as the vampire baby applauded, winking at the camera before the credits started to roll. And the narrator started to question reality.
“They may have reconciled, but will CPS get involved regardless? Has Vlad finally accepted the baby as his own? Will I get paid more than minimum wage? Check in on the next episode to find out this and more, in the next episode of The Immortal & The Restless: Love Never Dies!”

Michael couldn’t help but smile at the last scene, as he wondered, wouldn’t that be nice? And before the ad-break was over, his eyes had closed, lulled to sleep by the warm body right beside him. The snores had stopped sometime during the climax of the episode.

The television was still on when Jeremy’s parents came back from work. It was the only light illuminating the living room, and it seemed to have already been going on for a while, although Mr. Fitzgerald did not seem to mind, going straight for the stairs, not even bothering to talk with his wife about dinner. But Jeremy’s mother at least bothered to turn the television off, hopefully Jeremy wouldn’t arrive late to work. Although she couldn’t help but hope the place would burn down once and for all.

She looked at their dark silhouettes. It was nostalgic seeing them cuddled together once more, like in the good old days that were sadly not that old. Sometimes she wished the past would come back, and that tomorrow she would be woken up once again by Cassidy’s screams and Jeremy doing something reckless on the stairs, but she knew damn well that was a fool’s errand, so she simply left. Dinner would have to wait for tomorrow.

She’d have to wait for Jeremy to quit.

He found himself once again in pure darkness, but it did not smell or sound like the sewers. No running water, no methane, just the echo of his own steps on the invisible floor. Where was he walking anyways? He finally stopped, starting to see a figure on the edge of his vision, Fredbear, but it wasn’t walking or moving. Still, it shaked.

Every step Jeremy took towards it, the further away it seemed to get. Until he found himself once again alone in the void.
“Our job now.”

Jeremy awoke with a jolt, and got to dodge a direct punch from Michael as reward for his efforts. After the fact, Jeremy took a moment to process the horrified look on Michael’s face. But thankfully Michael clarified.
“You touched my butt.” He was holding his single hand to his face. Still processing what had just happened.
Jeremy was flabbergasted.
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to what? Touch my ass?”
“I was asleep, I swea-” Michael did not let him finish his defense.
“You can suck my dick Fitzgerald!” Wait, no, that’s wrong, “You can’t suck my dick!” At that point Jeremy couldn’t help but start laughing at the absurdity of it all. Michael of course, simply sat down again, wanting for the earth to swallow him whole once and for all. Perhaps he should have just stayed dead.

“I’m calling the police.”
“But she just left-” Jeremy continued to wheeze, sounding more like a chainsaw trying to start up than a human. So, Michael just had to give up with his ass touching concerns and get up to try and do anything productive before 11 p.m. came upon them. He started up the coffee machine before rummaging through the fridge, finding skimmed milk.
“Disgusting.”

At least the sugar was regular white sugar. As he poured the coffee into the cup, he realized he didn’t have a stomach anymore. At that point, he just had to rest his elbows on the counter top as he suppressed the urge to scream, because Jeremy’s parents were sleeping, and the last thing he needed right now was for them to scream when they saw him.

He stayed like that until Jeremy had finally stopped laughing.
“You can have the coffee.” Jeremy was surprised at first, but a look towards Michael’s abdomen was all it took for everything to click into place. He thanked him and gulped down the coffee as he tried to assess whether the guy needed a hug or a pep talk. Thankfully, before the silence could be extended further, Michael sighed, “I can’t drink coffee, I can’t even chew gum anymore.” he complained.
“You chew gum? Since when?”
“Well, I was trying to quit, but now I won’t even be able to have a relapse.” That was worthy of some shoulder pets, at least. It did not calm Michael down much, as he was not a dog, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture anyways.

“Good Boy.” and then Jeremy ruined it.
“I’m going to kill you.” all bark, no bite, sadly. Michael was defenseless. He couldn’t fall lower.
“Now that’s the spirit! Follow me, your father isn’t gonna kill himself, afterall!” If only the universe would be that kind. They could only wish.

“A clown mask?” Michael questioned, wiping off the dust from the homemade abomination that Jeremy had created last year inspired by “a book his parents had refused to let him read.” He had read it anyway, and had refused to give Michael an explanation of the plot due to it containing “things no one should know”, which was very reassuring.
“Well, you are a clown, that’s why you make me laugh so much.” Michael could have found the sentiment a compliment, even a cute thing to say, but all Jeremy’s smile made him want to do was to smack the notion out of his head.
“Well, that makes two of us.” Ah, there went the smile, away for a little bit at least. A bit of a shame really, Jeremy had decent teeth for someone who had never had to wear braces. Michael was not jealous, not at all, which was the reason why he kept staring at it instead of putting on the mask.

With each item of clothing added to obscure his form, Jeremy would instruct Michael to do a spin to admire his work as a customer, and Michael couldn’t help but smile at each disapproving look and, “you look like my dad” comment. But eventually, before they ran out of time, they settled, big raincoat that Jeremy’s father never used because of the rain, a wide brim hat that cast a large shadow on his face, and a pair of gloves that Jeremy’s mom never used, he was ready to see the world, clown mask on.

The two of them finally left the building, only being met with a few questioning stares from the nocturnal inhabitants of the dark streets of Hurricane, Utah.
“I can’t smell you, but you forgot to shower.”
“Fuck.”

Michael was mostly free to explore the pizzeria that night, not needing to breathe so that he could wear the clown mask without asphyxiating, and all he needed to use to defend himself from Foxy and Mangle was the flashlight and a quick reaction time. It was strange to hear him sigh and talk, without breathing and his lung’s presumably having been torn to make way for wires, but still, despite his vocal chords having been mangled, he sounded the same. Almost.

His voice still sounded like Michael, it was still dramatic, still more british than American and more slow than fast. But it felt more like hearing him speaking through a phone or cassette tape, it felt a bit surreal everytime Jeremy forgot about it only to be reminded when “the frequency” seemed to fail. Still, it was still Michael, he would get used to it, just like with everything else in the last few years.

He would get used to it.

They had already searched the place during the night of the 8th, but then the subsequent 4 day’s had happened, and Jeremy had admitted that he hadn’t been able to “explore” much. Even less with having to wind up the Puppet’s music box every time My Grandfather’s Clock’s melody came to an end. At least Jeremy’s Boss had been updating him about the goings in the pizzeria through the phone, in his own Mr. Newton branded manner.

At least Vanessa and Mr. Burke had finally started to work. Hopefully they would find the mummified bodies inside of the withereds, If Fazbear did not remove them fast enough.

Still, it was not something worth risking their lives for, well, Jeremy’s life.

After a tight encounter with Toy Bonnie, Michael managed to sneak his way into the safe-room. They had failed to check it due to running away for their lives. And he himself jumping through the front door, which probably did not help on Jeremy’s search.

At least he knew the animatronics wouldn’t be after his guts inside. What he found was mostly trash on the floor from employees during the day time snacking on anything they could get their hands on during the break (seeing as there was no kitchen to steal from or reheat a home cooked meal). Someone seemed to have somehow managed to lose their pants, that was new. And then there was the toy bin, full of toys ranging from Freddy in the fabric, plastic ponies and hot wheels.

And some gum older than Michael on the floor. Somehow. Despite it being a “new and improved restaurant”. But seeing as it lacked a kitchen and a soul, Michael doubted they had put any thought into it.

But the thing that caught his eye were the employee lockers next to the broken arcade machines. One of them had some paper sticking out of it. And Michael just couldn’t resist. Even If it was a discount coupon he would take it. His first attempt was to simply slide it towards the outside, but it quickly got stuck, so it was either a stack of coupons or a badly closed notebook. Whatever it was, it belonged to one “D. Miller”. Unlucky bastard. Then again probably a day-shift worker or delivery boy, so who cared.

Michael was about to give up, when he remembered Jeremies words of encouragement in his fight against the vending machine, so he hoped to god that his leg wouldn’t snap and hit locker 09’s door with a kick. It was not enough to open it, but just a little pulling would do, and… presto! Maybe his true calling was being a thief. Sadly, no such a degree in college had been made, yet.

It was sadly a notebook. Michael had expected a security logbook, but instead it was a diary, a good quality leather one at that. Something someone with Jeremy’s pocket-change of a paycheck couldn’t pay for. And when he opened it, he immediately found out why.

It was the same handwriting he had read almost two weeks ago, urging him to ask for a position as a technician. Maybe for once he could do something useful with his own pathetic life and fix her. What a scam. But still, it proved that William had been around the new restaurant, hopefully it would contain something that could link him to the recent disappearances. finger’s crossed.

Vanessa would be receiving a phone call soon. And hopefully it would bring good news.

Apart from that, nothing much else happened, all the rest of that night.

Chapter Text

The eleventh of november had been marked on his calendar. He put on the purple signature uniform that every Fazbear employee had been wearing since the founding of the franchise. Adjusting the security badge so that it would sit straight instead of crooked. He wanted to look presentable before going back to work after his very absence.

After taking a look into the motel’s mirror, he ignored his receding hairline after determining that he still looked quite dashing, for his age. He closed the motel door and after making sure that no one had followed him home in order to blow his cover, he got in his purple car. So long as he did not get fined or report it, it would be fine, he supposed, everything would work out like it had back in 85’. God was truly smiling upon him, for he knew that his work was important.

The custom plymouth belvedere swerved through the roads, like exotic butter would through a frying pan. Allowing its driver to gaze upon the beautiful town of Hurricane, Utah at 6 A.M. in the morning. He even looked at the movie posters in search of something decent, but the closest he found to a good British comedy was what looked like a new horror film called “Terror at the Opera” that would come out next month. But it was Italian, a shame really.

At least the poster was good.

Finally, he parked the magnificent beast, hiding his tool of choice from sight before getting out of the car. It was already 8 P.M. When he finally arrived, he had chosen the motel so that it would be difficult to track him down by following him. He was truly a genius.

Mr. Newton fell for his lies instantly, both a mixture of desperation and empathy filling up his face when he had mentioned his son had passed away. It helped that death was a matter that few people wanted to discuss in detail, leaving the conversation at a “sorry for your loss” without asking further questions.

Despite being already dressed, he still needed the keys and heavy duty flashlight that every security guard was required to carry on the job. He went into the safe-room, locker key in hand, only to find to his surprise that it was useless. It had already been opened.

And the only thing missing was his research journal.

He had most of the notes backed up into the bunker’s main computer, but that wasn’t the reason why he had bleeding knuckles from punching the locker next to him. Someone else had that knowledge. Someone undeserving. And perhaps worse, someone who wouldn’t see its true value and potential.

Still, he had come for one thing, and one thing specifically. Fresh meat. And although due to his recent failure parent’s were much more unwilling to leave their kids unsupervised, Freddy’s had always been good at attracting a particular family type. Some parents would believe the building was some kind of “cheap daycare” and would leave their children unsupervised with the wrong idea that they would watch over them.

Oh, how foolish. While he himself was clearly not doing his job, a sole security guard would have never been much of an obstacle. Especially considering they would hire intoxicated teenagers and overwork whoever was doing service work. Who had the time to keep a close eye on multiple children while being the only one delivering and serving pizzas in the restaurant, only to get yelled at by the few present parents. Or who would watch over them when they were cleaning every mess the children made, never getting punished and never getting told to not waste the food.

It was almost like it had been made for him.

And lo and behold, he found just what he was looking for. Only having to wait half an hour after check in for some parents to wave goodbye to their little girl. Maybe If he was quick enough today, it would be fresh enough for Gregory.

Unknowingly, William had failed to realize that the prey he had chosen was already taken.

She had been reduced in size, those traitors. But it was still something she could take advantage of, as she had always done. Sneaking through the outer ventilation system had been rather easy, a feat she could not have achieved with her 7 and later 5 foot height. She would make it work, she had to. And she had found once again something that was the perfect size.

A little girl, strawberry blonde hair, pale skin and slightly crooked newly born teeth. She was perfect, so much like her, before she had killed her. Abigail, her parents had called her, in a rather aggressive tone. She looked in her database, finding the short version, Abby. It was a gift, truly. It was just too perfect.

The little girl sat alone in an empty party room. Eating a cold slice of pizza that the delivery boy had been too slow to get from the restaurant. Abby heard a sound coming from the upper vent and looked up.

“Hello little girl, it seems you have been left all alone… why is that, I wonder?”
“My parents are just too busy, and my brother is working too. I have to be here.”
“And what about your friends?” She made a voice inflection, trying to seem genuinely worried.
“I don’t have any.”
“Oh.” There was her opening, “I could be your friend.” Abby smiled.
“Really?” she asked, sparkled in her eyes, fully turning her head towards the vent, cold pizza left forgotten on her plate.
“Would you like to come to my birthday party tomorrow!” The fish had bit the bait it seemed. She was truly too good for her own good.
“Yes, although I am having some… difficulty getting down, could you please help me get down safely? I’m afraid.” Abby nodded, slowly getting closer to the vent.

A gunshot was heard.
“William Afton, you are under arrest under suspicion of murder, identity theft and the desecration of at least one body.” everything had gone quiet after Vanessa had fired the warning shot. The only sound filling the locale being the pre-programmed singing of the show stage animatronics. Until a scream coming from down the hall, broke the silence, “Fuck.”

“Got it!” Jeremy said, running past the serial killer and into the party room to the left, where the scream had come from, hiding the taser Vanessa had given him under his shirt as he ran. She felt relieved, but only for a moment, she felt something cold slide against her skin. Reacting as quickly as possible, she took a shot, hoping to dear god that it would hit William and not some civilian. The man’s scream was all the confirmation she needed.

Soon the cold she had felt turned into warmth sliding out of her neck, she dropped the gun, scrambling to hold the open wound closed with her hands, as her vision quickly started to falter and blur. The last thing she heard was footsteps staggering away and the ringing of a phone.

The outside of the party room was in complete chaos, but the inside wasn’t much better. Jeremy had barely had any time to warn the little girl about the danger before the metallic creature had jumped on her face, trying to get in through her throat.

He first tried to pry her out, but all he managed to do through that was to hurt Abby more, so he quickly turned his strategy to negotiation. He needed to think of something and quickly, “She is just gonna rot away like Michael did.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“But you’ll need time for that, she will rot in the meantime.”
“She is perfect.”
“She won’t be for long.”
“What do you propose then smartass?”
“Me, you can use me as a vessel until you find a way to stop the rotting.”
“And what’s the catch?”
“Me in exchange for the little girl.” For a moment Jeremy thought he had failed, but then he saw the coil of wires around the girl's neck, and knew he had won.

“I’ll just go back for her when you decay-” Jeremy’s reflexes quicked in at the last second, the voltage of the laser hitting the mass of wires with full power. Small as she was, it was enough to get her to back off, allowing Jeremy to grab Abby and make a run for the exit. Thankfully, with a cop injured on the job, the ambulance had come quickly, allowing him and Abby to jump in before she could follow them. He was glad he had snuck out after Vanessa. The paramedic on duty besides Vanessa did not seem to be as glad.

Vanessa woke up slowly, clearly not recognizing where she was or what had happened. The paramedic had to push her down back into the stretcher, advising her not to get up. She looked around as the realization hit her, William had escaped.
“He’s gone.”
“Who?” Abby asked, thinking someone had died in the restaurant.
“William escaped.” Jeremy gripped the security bar he was holding on to, his nails piercing into his own skin. Vanessa simply sighed, disappointed.
“I did manage to land a shot, but I don’t know where, it might be easier to track him down now that he is injured, at least.” Jeremy sighed, “Well, something is better than nothing at least.”

He was holding Abigail by the shoulder, the paramedic had given her a quick check up and a few bandages, but thankfully nothing had been messed up considerably. She reminded Jeremy a bit of Cassidy, with how she would always come back home full of scratches and gauze. But that was in the past, he needed to remember that. After everyone had been checked, silence quickly befell the back of the ambulance. The only sound coming from the pen the paramedic was holding while taking notes.
“If you are here. Where’s Michael?”
“Visiting an old family friend.”

Henry’s doors banged once, twice, thrice. He hadn’t had someone so insistent on being let into his home since that Screws & Bolts magazine salesman had come by and almost tried to get him into their pyramid scheme.
“Hello! Anyone home?” He shouldn’t have assumed Henry would be home. But he felt like If he called, he would have gotten hung up on.
“I’m not buying anythi-” A brittish accent, in Utah? It could only be one person.
“William?”

“Do I look like my father?" Someone couldn’t have offended Michael further If they had tried. At least now with no hair and purple skin their look-alikeness was much more debatable. Henry did not seem to care though.
“Well, I can’t see you through the peephole, but you sure sound like him.” Michael waited or better said, hoped that the door would be unlocked, but it didn't budge.
“You are not getting into my house after what happened Michael. Remember?” The past could bite Michael back whenever it wanted, but right at that moment it was very inconvenient. They had more urgent matters to worry about at hand.
“I know who killed Charlie.”

The door unlocked.

Henry did not voice his devastation at the news of his daughter’s true killer, his breath seemed to stop as he read what was undoubtedly his old partner's handwriting, describing in a clinical manner his daughter’s murder. Words like “deadline”, “results” and “termination” almost reminded him of William’s financial reports. He couldn’t help but wonder whether it had truly been such a cold affair for William, or whether he had rationalized it afterwards. The date of the entry was 1984.

But all in all, it did not matter, cold or warm, his hands were stained with his child’s and many other little one’s blood. And no motivation he had would change that devastating fact. To think it had been when he had gone for Charlotte’s cake, he was so blind.

Hopefully there would be something useful in that damn notebook other than the descriptions of suffering souls. A good place to start would probably be the plans.

He had offered a coffee to Michael, but he had declined. He had flinched slightly when he had taken the hat and mask off, but it had not taken a long look to see that Michael’s current physical condition could only be described as belonging in a cemetery.
“Hey, no worries, I come unarmed, see.” Michael pointed out the left side of his body, where indeed, a huge chunk of arm was missing. It was his best attempt at an ice breaker, but Henry wasn’t having it. They stayed in silence as Henry continued to review the notebook. Which was quickly driving his mind towards madness. In an attempt to half-distract himself, while looking for anything of use, his mind took to trying to resolve a practical problem.

Perhaps, I could try my hand at a prosthetic? Although I may not have the necessary medical expertise to do so. Michael was rather confused by Henry’s sudden turn to wanting to help him with something other than what concerned his daughter, but he was never one to say no to free stuff, even if it was cold Freddy’s pizza leftovers, “Why?” he asked. Henry continued to read through the book, not really looking at Michael as he gave a half-answer.

“Well, it will probably take some time, the whole elbow missing is gonna add another layer of complication, but I might be able to read up on that, it’s gonna take time though.”
“Jeremy says he threw away one of my fingers, would that be a problem?” Henry’s face contorted for a brief moment.
“No.” Henry was starting to regret many of his life choices, even more than usual. He had always been good with kids, but not so much with teenagers. Never had the opportunity, sadly. “Can you balance yourself well without your left arm?”
“Good enough, I guess. I feel like my loose organs flip-flop from side to side to help with that.”
Henry simply nodded, letting everything sink in before saying “ok.”

Finally, something interesting popped up between each succedpsful torture machine and kill. A failure. One for William at least. It was a state of matter experiment with the substance he had labeled as Remnant (at least he hadn’t called it something like Aftonium). The frozen remnant had become inactive, quickly returning to its active state when melted. The interesting one was with the evaporated remnant, it had also become inactive when in a non-liquid form, but unlike its frozen state, it had never condensed and returned, completely disappearing from the world of matter.

The notes in that section were much sakier, taken quickly. The loss of Remnant seemed to have affected William deeply. Good.

It was about time they had a breakthrough.

As Michael left the house, He caught a glimpse of something behind a curtain. His heart jumped to his throat as he recognized the silhouette of a man. Slowly he approached it, pulling back the curtain in one fell swoop, only to reveal something that wasn’t dangerous, but simply bizarre, it looked like an old foxy endoskeleton from the first Freddy’s, but instead of a hook replacing it’s missing hand, it had a kitchen knife.

Hard to clean splatters of blood had escaped the cleaning process in the crevices. The poor thing seemed to have also received a beat down, having dents all over it, from head to metallic toes. So enthralled was Michael by the sight that he did not hear Henry Emily sneak up behind him.
“We all have our skeletons in the closet, this is mine.” Michael turned around to see the large scar hiding in the underarm of Henry’s right arm. He simply nodded before escaping the weird atmosphere through the door and into the sunset colored streets of one strange Hurricane.

He had heard the thunder, but he had not realized it was raining so hard. It was a downpour. He would need to take a bus to the hospital in order to share what he had learned with Jeremy. Hopefully one would pass by the stop soon, he had neglected getting an umbrella, he should have known better.

He should have also thought about that after putting on his disguise. But at least the wide brimmed hat was doing a good job at sparing his face from getting drenched. Something told him that having a clear vision would be crucial that night If they wanted to hunt for his father.

That and buying a lighter at the nearest tobacco shop.

Chapter Text

Jeremy observed Abigail as she drew the Freddy & friends gang in the foggy window outside of Vanessa’s room. Her parents had yet to arrive to pick her up.

It was strange seeing the hospital so quiet, but when he had commented on his masterful observations with Vanessa’s nurse, she had explained that it would probably fill up in the following month’s after Christmas. He contemplated falling asleep to take a nap before he decided that leaving Abigail with no supervision could potentially prove fatal.
“Hey, wanna explore the hospital a little bit? My legs are feeling a bit tired from sitting all day.” He tried.
“No.” Little shit. Perhaps he needed a different strategy. A promise.
“If you come I will buy you whatever item you want from the vending machine.”
“Anything?” Abby’s face filled with hope.
“Any one item. Yes, as long as it doesn’t hurt my pocket too much.” And If he lost some coins, he could tell Michael about the mechanical thief to teach the thing a lesson.

Jeremy couldn’t tell If the dizziness came from the flickering lights, the chemical smell of disinfectant or the multiple doors and corridors that formed the maze that was the hospital’s second floor. And even though he found it unlikely, he couldn’t shake the filling that William might have followed them. So much to the little girl’s protest, he forced her to stay close.

Abigail did not seem to mind any of it, her only concern and objective being getting a Crunch bar between her grubby little hands. Jeremy could only hope that the sugar rush would hit after her parents arrived to pick her up. After noticing they were back at Vanessa’s room, Jeremy realized that they had run a full circle around.
“You are not very smart, I thought you had a job.”

Jeremy took a moment to process that, “Sadly, I do. And who says you need a job to be smart? My boss is a fucking idiot.” Ups, and there went the child’s innocence. All that work to not swear in front of her during the ambulance ride had been for nothing.

“Anyways, who told you that blatant lie?” He asked absentmindedly while looking at the hospital plans on the wall. Surely they had missed the second pair of stairs somewhere.
“Well, my aunt always tells my brother that he will never have a job because he is a worthless retard!” Oh, what a lovely family, he couldn’t wait to meet them. Welp, at least he wasn’t the one responsible for ruining a childhood, it was already done.
“Well, your aunt can shove her opinions up her… nose.” At least he would attempt to not make the problem worse.
“That’s rude!”
“Ok, now listen here you little lady.” Glass breaking was heard from the end of the hall.

Jeremy was not taking any chances, not today, “Run!”. Abigail took off, not finding any objections this time. Jeremy waited, as he heard light footsteps and panting around the corner.

A dog.

Michael had been looking for any sign of a tobacco store on his way to the hospital, finding one slightly hidden in a back alley. It smelled like you would expect, but was relatively clean. He had always liked looking at the cool drawings in the packaging when her mother would leave them around the house. Although the ones from William’s alcohol bottles always felt fancier.

And would you look at that, someone had forgotten their perfectly usable umbrella, how convenient. He would need to remember that when leaving.

Immediately when he stepped in the clerk looked at him wrong, and at first Mochael assumed it was because he was not of age. Until he remembered his current look and everything clicked into place.
“ID or Driving License.” Well, fuck. He was all out of papers.
“I don’t have one.” Michael gritted his teeth, he should have asked Dean for where he got those fake IDs. Oh wait, he was dead.

“Then get the fuck out of here, I’m not selling anything to kids. Got the coppers on me last time.” The man shooed away Michael with his hands. Grabbing the lighters and hiding them under the counter.
“It’s not for smoking anything.” The clerk frowned more. He had not realized how much more suspicious that sounded.

“What is it for then?” Think, anything but cremation. What did legal children like to do? The bulb in Michael’s head finally ignited.
“Marshmallows.” He said, perhaps with too much confidence.
“Marshmallows, that’s the best excuse you’ve got, kid?” The man was a tough cookie to bite. But he was determined.

“What is so hard to believe? Everyone loves them.” He kept his ground.
“Not everyone dressed like that, no.” He might have kept the ground, but it was shaking.
“Is it a crime to be fashionable?” Michael touched the brim of his hat, trying to look cool.
“For you? Yes.” Looking cool had failed. With plan A and plan B having been shot down, it was now time for plan C.

Commiting a crime.

Michael did not look back as the clerk yelled at him saying that he would “get the glock”, what was he gonna do? Shot him? He was already dead. Sadly, the umbrella had been damaged when he had used it to break the counter’s glass, so it was now nothing more than trash. But it would do for his walk to the hospital.

Sadly, what Michael thought was gonna be a peaceful walk towards his destination soon turned into a minefield of human bodies. First he stumbled upon a person who looked more like swiss cheese than a human from the amount of bullet holes. After the first body he saw a decapitated head, its blood still fresh being washed into the street’s drains. Piece after piece, it felt like following a trail of misery.

Misery that led to an alleyway. Michael had only seen the man once, but they seemed to have gotten to work mangling his corpse faster than they had done with his own. Jeremy Bentley was not emptied or full of holes, tears exposed the wires and trash the monster had been collecting, Barely anything of Bentley’s face remained. It seemed the only thing that had been keeping them from ripping Michael to pieces had been Circus Baby’s will to live a “normal” life. What was once Jeremy Bentley turned it’s head to Michael, announcing:

“We’ve Been WAITING For you.” Jeremy Bentley’s knees cracked as they were bent the opposite way, and so without turning their head back to its original position, they ran towards Michael.

click.

The lighter refused to work in the rain.

click.

The broken umbrella wasn’t giving the fuel and metal enough time to cause an ignition.

click.

He had to run.

Leaving the umbrella and not worrying about his hat being blown away, Michael ran like the devil was chasing him, because he might as well have been in a bull race. His boots slid through the wet pavement, trying their best so that their owner would not fall and crack his skull open, who knew whatever the fuck that thing was going to do with it’s victims. Perhaps save them as trophies.

The empty gun barrel hitting the back of his head was enough of a reason to forget grim thoughts and focus on his destination. Finally, he got close enough to the hospital so that the rain wouldn’t blur its lines, and to see both a familiar and unfamiliar figure running away from it.

And a dog with green eyes that glistened in the rain.

Looking at the bright-side, they wouldn’t need to be going out of their way looking for her. It was a very weak light. Michael caught up with Jeremy and the child he was dragging like dead-weight. For a brief moment Michael thought about leading them back to the hospital and burning it down, but there were too many exits and he couldn’t count on the firemen saving all of the patients that would be caught in the fire.
“That is such a stupid fucking idea Michael!” Jeremy had heard him muttering.
“Why don’t you come up with something better then?” The child was running out of breath. They had to do something or she would get caught, tears were streaming down her face as she tried to keep up. Jeremy saw a truck coming down the road, passed Abigail to Michael and took his chances.

The truck started to stop, but its cargo did not, barely giving Jeremy time to duck. Allowing him the pleasure of feeling the underside components brush his hair. As the truck finally halted, a bang was heard from the chaser’s direction. The truck driver got out, wanting to check who the fuck fault was that he’d been forced to stop in the middle of the road.

Only to immediately start running when he saw the now bleeding dog filled with wires run towards him. Jeremy managed to get into the cabin thanks to the man’s help, and Abby and Michael quickly followed behind, only to immediately backtrack when they heard glass shattering. Jeremy looked back only to see how Mr.Bentley reached for the truck driver’s neck through the window.

He ran close behind them as they saw a car approaching the scene, this time Michael being the one waving his hands around to force it to a stop. It was a pick-up truck. He pushed Abigail into the back before helping Jeremy, as he whispered something in his ear before hitting the pick-up so that it would start up and leave.
“Michael! Michael! Come back, you bastard!”

The last he saw of Michael was his ankle getting bitten by the bloodied dog.

On the ride home he got the joyous experience of meeting Abigail’s father, who apart from a “Where do I drop you off?” and a “Well, that was a crazy night.” Mostly spent his time talking to his daughter while driving, and questioning why she wanted a seventeen year old boy to come to her birthday party. With the side hobby of eyeing Jeremy suspiciously through the rear-view mirror. Abby had sat at the front in a pit stop. Finally when the ride was over, Jeremy bid goodbye to his two companions and looked at the latest crime scene Michael had technically committed. Chief Burke was yet to arrest him due to the special circumstances he himself had witnessed, but Jeremy had learned one thing during his troublemaking years, you could never trust a cop not to turn on you.

At least the bodies had been clearly moved from the location, but the dried blood remained. While yes, the hospital was an awful location, the structural integrity of the abandoned Freddy’s was not the best to contain two beasts made of stainless steel. The back door had also been torn to pieces. But it was the best they got without risking killing someone else in the fire. Well, besides themselves, of course.

The good thing about the building was the lack of outside windows, the only ones being indoors and located within the office. The strange hermetic doors could have been useful, If they weren’t designed to be up when the power would cut, and down when the power was on, If they were lucky the building would still be connected to a power grid. No wonder they went with a no-door model for the new location, if the company standard was bullshit.

The kitchen could also be a good place, it would be very useful to be able to get them into the oven or the fridge, but then again those same devices could either spell the creature’s doom or salvation. If the fire did not get hot enough, it was raining afterall. And sadly those things had no lungs to suffocate from the ash.

The closets and bathrooms could also be useful. Just one entrance to worry about. That could be a good plan, or a one way ticket to heaven or hell. He started collecting the chairs and tables that could be used to barricade the exits once they were inside. Wood or plastic, even If they would not stand a fire either, they would burn. And hopefully win them enough time for ectoplasm to burn. He saw a rusted fire ax and picked it up. He doubted it would do any actual damage to the metal wires after them, but it was something.

Michael had not been very good at explaining, ever. Not even in simple school presentations, he went on for 13 minutes about nuclear plants, and by the end of it Jeremy still did not understand how they worked.

It was meant to be five minutes.

Eh, listening to Michael say nonsense still beat moving tables and chairs with the risk of cracking his back and never moving again. He had barely started to clear the first row of chairs, and a table, and he was already feeling sore. His mother was right, he should have picked up a sport to stay in shape. No one had told him he would need muscles to survive modern life.

He finished completely blocking off the back exit just as he heard an engine roar from the forest. The truck’s blinding lights confirmed he had run out of time. Michael got out of the truck still intact, If only Frank had still been alive he would have been happy that one of his two worst students had been able to achieve such a feat. Jeremy couldn’t help but miss the guy’s gentle bonks with his notes against his skull. Poor Benjamin.

Congratulating Michael would have to wait.

“How is Freddy’s looking as an incineration location?” The line did not have the optimistic response he wanted, “Michael, we are gonna die.” Jeremy looked Michael in the eye, managing to make him look down to avoid meeting his gaze. He kept repeating in his head that it was gonna be fine, because If he didn’t he would lose all hope, and be left with nothing but regret.
“Look at me, I’m fine!” He said, pointing to his face with only one hand despite clearly attempting to do it with both. He was indeed, not fine.
“If I die I’m gonna kill you.”
“Be my guest!” Jeremy’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of metal scraping against pavement. They had arrived.

“You stay out to close the entrance, I’ll be the bait.” Michael whispered.
“Are you stupid? Oh wait, you are. What If something goes wrong inside? Smartass.” Jeremy whispered back, getting into position behind the pile of furniture regardless.
“That’s when you come in, and close the door regardless.” Jeremy couldn't help but facepalm at the nonchalance with which he had just said, “I feel like we should have had a conversation about this, mister.” That last word was despective.
“We are having it now.”
“What about stopping your fucking father?” Jeremy tried to appeal to the other teen’s reason.
“You do that.” Reason had failed.

“Oh, of course! How silly of me! Come back here Michael, this conversation isn’t over.” He tried to grab Michael’s arm, but Michael easily dodged his attempt at restraining him, probably something he had practice with.
“Bye honey! I’ve gotta go kill some robots.” Quick as a rat, that bastard had already disappeared into the darkness before Jeremy could complain further. He should have just gone home If he was gonna help another guy in his suicide plan.

Glowing eyes passing by reminded him he needed to hold his breath.

Michael hid in the security office, having learned his way around the place during one of his errands for his father. At first it had been rather easy to keep them off, their behavior had not changed that much from his final work day at the rental place, the only difference being the fact that the dog that he assumed was Circus Baby was much harder to track than a hulking mass of wires with a clown face.

Mr. Bentley thankfully did not pose much of a problem. While he attempted not to die, Michael’s head started to think about where he needed the pieces to fit, and when he saw an opportunity, he took it.

He closed the left office door, and sprinted as quietly as he could towards the kitchen, closing the door behind himself after entering. The dog that lunged at him confirmed his suspicions that he had guessed its location correctly. He covered himself with his arm as the thing bit into it as If it was nothing more than clay. And grabbed whatever he could reach with his remaining hand to bash it’s head in, he hit the jackpot with a frying pan.

Gaining enough time to get away from it, Michael ran towards the oven, opening it before the dog prepared for another attack. When it lunged, he was ready. He grabbed the heavy creature by the neck, using its own momentum to throw it full force into the open oven. Closing it with a kick.

As it screamed, with the voice of a little girl he knew all too well, he sat down, his back against the oven door, he was afraid that If he didn’t leave it inside while it was on for long enough, it would jump right out of the industrial grade oven. So he sat, and he listened to what he assumed, or better said hoped, was the last recording of his sister’s voice. Screaming into his ears and blaming him for her unfair condition.

“Elizabeth, If you are still there, somewhere. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t go to your birthday party, and I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. I hope there is a nice birthday party planned for you in heaven, and If not, I can only hope that I’m ending your pain instead of continuing it.” What little remained of the dog attached to the mass of wires continued to fight against the oven’s glass, not caring for what he had to say on its condition. But only for a moment, in one of its green eyes, Michael felt like he had seen a glint of life reigniting at the promise of salvation.

If only he would be able to fulfill it.

The door creaked. Something had come inside.

click.

Michael dropped the lighter into the ground, igniting the wooden cabins and paper walls that made up the inside of the establishment. The fire quickly rose up, climbing through the exposed wiring and through the vents, searching for fresh oxygen to burn.

Hopefully Jeremy would be able to finish alone what they had started.

“Help… me…” Mr. Bentley’s chest broke and his ribs cracked as flesh started to come undone, letting eyes and arms break through the skin restraining their movements, Jeremy Bentley’s skin fell behind, all that remained of him was the now broken superficial layer, now thrown in the ground like nothing more than wrap.
“Michael! Get the fuck out of there!” Jeremy screamed, trying to push the door separating them open, he had been tipped off by the smoke coming out of the kitchen’s chimney.

After giving up on that, seeing as they had no time to lose, he grabbed the ax by its handle and started to cut. Smoke escaping each uneven cut made into the door by the rusty ax.

“Michael, If you don’t come, I’m cutting you with this very ax!” With one final swing, The door became feeble enough for Michael to pass through, and for what once inhabited Jeremy Bentley to follow right behind him. With much sadness, Jeremy threw the ax he had grown so fond of towards the monster, managing to halt its frantic advance towards them, even if it felt like trying to stop a train by throwing a human in the tracks. Any extra time they could manage to get away from its eyes meant a higher chance of survival.

The smoke started getting to Jeremy’s lungs, making it harder to run, thankfully Michael noticed, helping him on the final stretch through the doors. Managing to close them just in time to piss off the mechanical monstrosity behind them. With his lungs catching up on the now dry November air, Jeremy helped Michael move the barricade he had prepared beforehand, trapping the beast with no escape for good.

The two of them collapsed on the ground as they watched the fire roar, engulfing the whole building. A cacophony of screams accompanying their rest.
“Jeremy.”
“Yes?” He asked, assuming he would get told off for risking his life.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Sounds of tinkering and soldering came once again from Henry’s garage, as he worked away at something simple. Something that he wouldn’t call nice, on the contrary, it was a far cry from the child friendly faces he was so used to making. But, the joints and the interior were still quite familiar.

Hopefully the recipient of the gift would use it as it was intended. He still did not trust him. But, recent revelations had made him doubt his own ability to discern who was trustworthy and who wasn’t. Perhaps, If he had made a move earlier, or tried to see beyond that empty smile…

But it was no good drowning in the lake of regret that was the past. He had learned that, at least. The final screw was bolted into place, and so, Henry’s hammer went to sleep, alongside the single bulb illuminating the garage that cold rainy night.

Knowing his work was done, Henry went to bed, knowing damn well that what he had made would send the man he had considered his best friend straight to hell.

When he had gone back home that night, William had been enraged when he had found his son’s grave profaned by someone other than himself. He had been in the process of digging the maws of the earth open once more when an idea brightened in his head, asking for attention.

He had harvested the juice of the fruits of his labor, but he had not harvested the fruit itself. They could still have more, give him more, that final component that he was missing in the new batch. But he would need to go back. He looked at the shovel in his hands and deduced that it would be good enough, and after making sure no policemen had visited his home while he was gone, he went in for his tool box.

He had expected to have to deal with at least a bit of security, besides the new animatronics he had “re-touched” of course, those were nothing but useless toys. Two nights he had come and two nights the guy who had taken over his post had not shown, no wonder they had contracted him with no experience, the establishment was little more than a joke.

Or so he thought, until he saw something moving in the shadows.

“Follow me.” A voice whispered.

A familiar voice, something sweet and high. A voice drenched in fear and pleading. A voice he would never forget, he had heard it's cry many times before, but had never managed to hear it again. It was his boy.

And so, with a good feeling in his gut, he followed the purplish figure as it led him further into the dark humid corridors of the closed down restaurant, the only things he could hear being the raindrops seeping between the cracks and the sound of old machinery getting closer and closer.

First, a mouth full of wretched teeth greeted him. She tried to corner him like he had once cornered her, but it was no use. Piece by piece he removed her beak, her wings, her body, tail and head. And so the little bird would never get to sing again.

The next one was in the party room right over, faceless for no one remembered who he had been, a brother unable to save his younger sister, what a waste. No face to be remembered by and h-armless. A joke truly, but nothing the little rabbit would need to worry about once it jumped to its next life, as fuel for another more deserving boy’s veins.

Further up north he found the big bear who had led his two friends astray, a scratch or two, he would have been a formidable foe If he could have moved faster, nothing like a bit of decapitation to dissuade any creature from biting. Once more, paw by paw, limb by limb, the little brown bear fell down the river stream.

William readied his flashlight as the shadowy figure led him to what he assumed was his last contender, seeing as he had taken the Fredbear suit for himself, already having dumped little Cassidy’s corpse on a nearby lake. His conjecture was proven right as he flashed the light onto a guilty foxe’s eyes, stopping it from committing any crimes.

And with that, his job was done. Or so he thought at least, as he saw, from the corner of his eye, the purple figure that resembled a bear guided him towards the safe-room. He couldn’t help but follow, feeling he would be shown one last surprise to top off that magnificent night.

He followed across the halls, drawings of the monsters he had just triumphantly defeated looking back at his darkened figure, only illuminated by the light of his flashlight bouncing off the restaurant walls. So entranced he was in following the shadowy figure into the safe-room that he had failed to notice someone else following him closely behind. But none-of his research could have prepared him for what he saw after he entered.

At first the room had seemed empty, devoid of anything he would have deemed useful, other than SpringBonnie, who sat pitifully against the wall, empty and still in its suit mode. A sad lonely bunny that had been robbed of the chance to be used as a lure. How innocent he looked, empty, devoid of man or corpse. How cute.

They had set the bait into the hook, then cast a line and the fish had indeed bitten. Fully unaware of the nature of the fishing rod. When he looked back in search of that familiar shadow, all he saw was a wall covering the entrance, as impenetrable as stainless steel, and with a shine reminiscent of titanium, but living, eyes looked back at him as they mixed to create the door of a cell, arms linked as blood and tears that would never stop flowing created the bars of the jail he couldn’t escape. Effortlessly they pushed against him, effortlessly they stopped him from leaving.

That was until a figure made its way through, but not the create a passage no, to chase the predator, corner it further, make him pay for what he had done to them, what he had done to her, what remained of her cascading to the floor like a shower of blood, wanting, needing to drown the one who had done the same to her in her own blood.
He ran and he fought, and as he clinged to the defunct arcade machines, his racing mind thought of something clever, something only a caged animal would think of, to use the springlock suit. Perhaps, the children would stop their attack and let him leave once and for all, If only he showed them he was just like them. The same costume that had fooled them back when they were alive.

He ran towards the yellow rabbit, putting on the disguise with trained confidence, unlike other less qualified, he knew what he was doing. He smiled triumphantly after putting on the familiar head, seeing clearly that it was hard worked, the phantoms had stopped in their tracks. He laughed, He laughed knowing that he was free, knowing that he had one because he was a genius, he would bring the new millennium.

He could feel his left lung filling up with blood.

Pierce after pierce, tear after tear, as both of his lungs filled with blood and his arms became limp, he saw through the gaps the spirits, unblinking, paying attention to each agonizing scream, each new stab analyzed by a captivated audience. He tried to stand for his pride, but it too ended up wounded after the ligaments in his knees were severed by bolts and beams.

He sat, muscles spasming through the pain, willing to move but unable to. Soon his vision turned yellow, blurry, the pain so dizzying he no longer could tell what was up and down, or whether or not he was moving at all. That was until his vision became obstructed by the animatronic eyeballs finishing his own, pushing them deep within his skull. He could see the shine, that mesmerizing iridescent lilac tone he recognized, getting closer and closer. And then, a set of familiar eyes he had not seen in a long time set themselves on him. And once more, a quiet yet sweet voice delivered:

“You can’t.”

Ungrateful, every single child of his. Wasting his promises on them had been for nothing, he should have left them to rot like his wife had. And with that bitter thought William’s heart finally stopped, and started to rot.

One by one, Fritz, Gabriel, Jeremy and Susie melted back into their shells, happy that the one who had killed them, was dead. But one of them wasn’t content, even after his death, her heart still bleed, for the sorrow of a life never lived would never be washed by the river of revenge. She stayed watching, the room now silent, as the tiny hand of one dead before her tried to console her.

Step by step, they walked away to return to the prison where they had chosen to stay.

Mr. Newton had grabbed an umbrella that morning, but it had turned out to have been unnecessary for that day, as the rain had stopped right when he had come out the door, but as his wife liked to say, “It’s better to be ready than to be sorry.” So he guessed he should simply be grateful for the rain to have stopped.

At first the news had been the usual in the local Hurricane radio, but then his old ears caught wind of a word he recognized in between the ads for small businesses and the unknown country bands, “Freddy’s”. He quickly turned up the volume, trying to maintain his composure to avoid having any accidents on the road. Regardless, the man still managed to get a claxon pushed down in his name. Along with some very well-mannered shouts regarding his mother.

But in-between all the shouts, and claxons, his brain managed to get the gist of the news story regarding his old job conditions. The original Freddy’s had burned, and the firemen had been too late to save anything other than the main structure. It was speculated that it had been a case of arson, but no culprits had been found at the scene of the crime.

The man panicked for a brief moment trying to remember If he had accidentally left any of his belongings in the location, but after remembering how he had taken everything with him after the incident of the missing children, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He was also quite happy to have no direct or adjacent involvement with the incident whatsoever.

The current location he was managing had its sets of drawbacks, like the missing children around it, and the attempted child murder by the old founder the day before. But all in all, it was much better, removing the kitchen had really been the key to success, or so his superiors would like to believe. Even his own child had told him he preferred the current pizza to the old one, in spite of it arriving cold most of the time.

Finally, with his mind at ease, the man arrived at Freddy's location and had managed to complete the simple job of not being burnt down. A feat to be celebrated. But his moderate joy was cut short, when he discovered someone had broken in last night. He cursed himself, of course it was the night when he’d been unable to find a replacement security guard. Because the one on the night-shift had been the one o cover the day-shift, due to him not recognizing his old fucking boss from how tired he was.

And of course their out of control animatronics had ended the intruder’s life by putting him inside one of them. Lovely, just what he needed after his first cup of coffee in the morning, a fucking corpse to have to deal with. In his dismay, Mr. Newton looked at the employee handbook for ways in which to deal with, dispose of and clean a cadaver. And it involved a lot of bleach.

But the first step was rather simple, and relied on something quite rudimentary. Plausible deniability. Sure, the suit belonged to Fazbear Entertainment, but it had not been used since the Fredbear’s location had closed down. They could just chuck it up to carelessness with an out of commission suit, the corpse probably had not even heard his tapes regarding how to use spring-lock suits.

Still, before calling the police, the higher ups would need to be the ones to hear about it first. His wife had been right, he should have just been a Five Guys manager instead of a Freddy’s manager. But Five Guys did not have Foxy the pirate fox in between its non-existent crew now, did it?!

The phone rang, once, twice, finally a firm voice answered the phone.
“Who is it? Don’t waste my time.” He heard a gulp through the line, knowing right away who it was.
“Mr. Newton, I hope you are not calling me regarding those nosy police officers again. I already told you. Just throw the teens at them.” He was about to hang up, but Mr. Newton got straight to the point, for once.
“Sir, I’m afraid we need to uhh, talk about detail regarding section C of Paragraph 4. We’ve had, an unfortunate accident.” Mr. Newton could hear his boss brush his hair back, trying to compose himself before asking something he already knew.
“Robots again?"
“Yes.”
“Just throw it in the dumpster, If someone asks we will say it was always there.”
“But what about-”
“No police involvement. Now do the job that I pay you for!” Then the line went silent. So much for being a loyal employee. No respect to the layman for climbing up the corporate ladder.

So, like any other day, he pulled up his bootstraps, closed up shop, and started dragging the heavy as hell animatronic, back to his poor car. He would need to do a deep clean after everything. Even ignoring the cadaver, moss and spiderwebs had started to grow into it. Creating its own tiny biosphere.

Bleach, bleach could solve anything. He would also need to get the kids to clean the mess later when they showed up to work. Maybe he could make up some story about the first customer giving birth at the location, but even that sounded too far-fetched. Who on earth would want to give birth in a goddamn Freddy Fazbear’s pizzeria?

Eh, he would think of something on the ride back. And If he didn’t, he would just quit and tell everything to the police, maybe If they felt sorry enough for him they would pay him some money to tell the company’s secrets and he would have enough to pay the bills while looking for another job.

But he was sure the FIve Guys in town was already full, he would probably need to move, and that would mean starting to pay a different mortgage and selling the house without having paid the full mortgage, so that would be paying two mortgages, and he just couldn’t have that. His kid was gonna go to Harvard, or Yale, at least to whatever university they had in Salt Lake City and now that, that would cost a liver, and he only had two.

Did the police even pay people? Or had that just been a lie the movies had told him?

Regardless, the man did as ordered, taking the poor Johnny that had probably attempted to rob the cash register, and letting gravity do its thing as it dragged his body down the landfill. Hopefully he had lived a good life. But that wasn’t really Ralph’s job to determine. In fact he was pretty sure that If you were robbing cash registers you were probably living a pretty shit life.

Only thieves who robbed jewelry or people’s hopes and dreams were the ones living up the good life. Fancy people thiefs. Not Freddy’s thiefs, that was for sure. Not quite sure on what to do, he waved the corpse goodbye, hoping to never have to see the thing again.

Chapter Text

It was late in the morning by the time the two of them had arrived at the now closed down Freddy’s. Mr. Newton had called Jeremy in the morning announcing his lack of a final night-shift and how his day-shift that Friday would be taken into account for his final paycheck. So they couldn’t count on their plan for that nightshift, they would need to break in during the day.

At least they were 90% sure the robots would be more manageable during day hours, even If the building was in the dark. The light still filtered through the window, making the place seem less grimm than during a true nightshift. The pair still did their best to avoid the robots regardless, especially mangle, who was next to what they considered their only active objective.

Michael was deemed the “expert” technician between the two of them, in spite of his job at Circus Baby’s and Rentals having revolved more around running in circles rather than actual repairs. But sadly, their options were limited, and Henry had refused to come in to repair his own damn robots because he was a dick and had, “other important stuff to do, regarding testing.” And that had been all he had explained to Michael through the phone, hanging up on him before letting the undead teen reply.

So here they were, getting the harder task done first. Michael had to play Operation on the Puppet’s container to try and separate the music box from its host’s cage. In the meantime, Jeremy was keeping guard of the prize corner to keep any curious cartoon critters from eating their flesh. A very important job.
“If it gets out we are dead, you know?” He asked, keeping his flashlight centered on the kid's cove, he did not trust that fox one bit.
“Shhhh, I’m concentrating.” Michael said as he screwed back on a part he had unscrewed earlier, without having changed anything.
“My confidence in you is dwindling by the minute.”
“Aww, you had confidence in me? You shouldn’t have.” Michael paused to gesture towards Jeremy, before continuing to tinker with the box while he whispered such things as, “should’ve asked for the bloody plans.”, “Fucking Henry.” and “Oh, no.” All very reassuring things for Jeremy to hear.

The display plushies and toys looked at them with what Jeremy’s brain interpreted as fascination, and probably judgment. There were boxes stacked behind the counter, with even more plastic eyes peering at them from their hiding spot.

And then the grandfather clock tune started getting slower and as soon as he heard the first note of Pop goes the Weasel, Jeremy’s mind went blank in panic. Michael also panicked, and in his desperation he pushed himself on top of the box so that its doors would not open. But he had lost too much weight with his no internal organs diet. And the puppet was still pushing.

Finally Jeremy snapped out of it, quickly grabbing the merchandise boxes and throwing them on top of Michael, whose sounds of protest went unheard by anyone who cared. What mattered was that it was working. After a pile of boxes and surprisingly heavy giant plush toys had been created (and Michael had gotten out from under that same pile), the two boys took a breather, having just gotten the wind knocked out of them.

“My life is a lie.” Jeremy said, pain clear in his voice from all the stress he could’ve saved himself, If only he had known that the true weakness of the Marionette was boxes. Michael simply patted him in the back gently, trying to console him. After a few minutes the puppet stopped struggling, and Michael, no longer afraid of triggering anything that hadn't already been triggered, finally secured the music box mechanism.

With that out of the way they walked towards their next stop in their fucked up to-do-list: The Parts & Service room. Something which quickly made Jeremy’s heart-rate rise upon discovering its state of emptiness. They were loose.

…Or so they thought until they found one of Foxy's legs in the main hallway. And then an arm, and then a couple of eyeballs. Piece by Piece they found each part of them. Seemed like Jack the Ripper had beaten them to the punch. But at least it would make the job of transporting the pieces easier.

Jeremy fought against his senses as he helped Michael transport the carcass filled parts. It was hard work lifting while trying not to breathe, or smell. But it was done. The hardest part was moving the Puppet. Michael and Jeremy had fought for a bit, seeing as Michael only had one hand which was both impractical to move the puppet, and to hold the music box while spinning the crank that made the animatronic sleep.

Finally they settled on the configuration of Jeremy holding and cranking the music box while Michael dragged the Puppet behind him like a suitcase. He felt a lil’ bad for Charlotte being treated that way on her final trip, but seeing as it was either that or one of them dying, he preferred to keep his friend alive. He doubted Jeremy would come back to life without having the absolute pleasure of being inhabited by mechanical re-animator juice collectors™.

He would say he wouldn't wish that fate on his worst enemy. But that was a lie, in fact he could think of five people at least who deserved that fate, and all of them were personal. That scoundrel Greg and the cheese.

But not Jeremy.

Michael had missed the new episode of Immortal & The Restless that morning. He was very behind on the plot by then. What would Clara do in his place? Probably ask for child support, but he didn't have a child yet, and with his current track record it would probably be better If he put that idea on the back burner.

Jeremy’s hand was getting fucking tired from winding up the damn music box by the time they made it to the truck. So seeing as Michael could wind it up while having it in his lap, Jeremy agreed to drive. He didn't have his driving license anyways. Although his parents would get fined. Probably should just focus on avoiding the police.

With his priorities straight and his foot on top of the brakes “just in case”, the truck rolled down the road towards its final destination. But just after a few crossroads, hell broke loose in asphalt paradise.
“Do you know where we are going?”
“I thought you knew where we were going?”
“No, I was cranking the music box.”
“You are meant to be my co-pilot!”
“I can’t think with the fucking music on loop!”
“You are useless!” Now, that one did hit a nerve.
“Well, we are both useless then! Two whole weeks and we haven't even caught up to my fucking father!” Silence befell the vehicle.

“You are right, I am fucking useless!” Jeremy hit the car’s window with a bang that resonated across the metallic chassis. All of that research, all of the clues only to lose him when they had him, and now he was as lost as the idiot that was the man’s son. So much for being a smart kid If he couldn't even avenge his sister's death, much less have saved her when there was still time. Michael sighed as he said, “Jeremy, stop the truck.”
“Shut up, I'm being efficient.” Michael was pretty sure crying while doing something else wasn't what his mother had meant when she had explained he needed to learn how to multitask. But to each their own.

After a close call on a traffic light, Michael forcefully took control of the wheel, steering it to redirect their trajectory away from the carriage way and into the road's shoulder. His clever move was rewarded by a few scrapes alongside the bumper of the truck and a bent safety rail that no longer stood true to its name.

And a wide eyed Jeremy staring at him as If he had just told him green dogs were real. Which at this point he would probably be willing to believe, considering a purple man was staring back at him with a concerned expression. Reality could truly be weirder than science fiction sometimes. Maybe If he was lucky he would get abducted by aliens next. That seemed like a much simpler situation at least.

Michael grabbed Jeremy’s left shoulder with as much strength as he could muster, he would have slapped him out of it If he still had a left hand to do it with, but words would have to do the trick. How to console someone, he did not know, patting people in the back did not seem to do the trick, and he often found that his reasoning was flawed. And making intense eye contact usually made people think he was planning their murder. So that was also a no-go.
“Michael, you are making me uncomfortable.”
“I don’t give a fuck.” Jeremy attempted to move away from Michael’s hold, but the truck cabin was too cramped for any such action. He was stuck with him, like it or not.

The boy took a breath while attempting to make some sense for once, “Look, I don't think you are useless. You are practically the brains of this whole operation. If it wasn't for you I would still be in the dark regarding Elizabeth’s death, and I wouldn't even have started investigating my father. You are useful. Lady Luck simply doesn't like us.” Jeremy put a hand around Michael’s arm, pushing it away. It seemed Michael had missed, just not in the way he imagined.

“She seems to like children even less.” A dry chuckle escaped Michael’s lips, which he contained as soon as he noticed. But it did not take a genius detective to figure out who Jeremy was thinking about.
“We will find her.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I have a feeling that If we don’t find her, she will find us.” Something in Jeremy’s gut told him it was the truth, he couldn't tell If it was because of the strength with which Michael had stated such a thing, or If it was the same premonition that had warned him about Michael’s death a week prior. But he felt like he would meet his sister once again. Hopefully under better circumstances. Although that was just wishful thinking.

Michael retired his arm once Jeremy had calmed down. The only thing making any sound in the cabin was the ignition key being turned. Then, a voice broke through the quiet of the small space, “Where are you taking us?” He had, in fact, not realized in the spur of the moment, that the music had stopped playing as soon as his hand had moved from its crank to the truck's steering wheel. He had made a fatal mistake.

But the little girl’s voice did not scream, and its arms did not flail in impotent rage against the steel-lined container. It was even, with no sign of strain. Curiosity perhaps? Or maybe she was trying to play her cards right? They did not know, but the silence stretched in the air and her question went unanswered for too long.
“I’m not afraid of you.” Her confidence broke down at the last syllable.

It felt like Henry should have been the one to answer her, but she would need to wait a while longer until they could speak, still, Jeremy gave an answer, seeing as Michael had nothing clever to say for once.
“We are taking you to your father.” It felt like answering a question during a funeral. But even though he was sure it was the right thing to do, it was the easiest way to say the truth without revealing the details of death to a child, who had already experienced such a tragedy.
“You are?” a familiar tone.
“Yes.”
“So be it, then.” Jeremy couldn't help but feel something wrong at such a simple answer, like a lamb to the slaughter accepting her fate, the resignation of someone older than their years. Silence once more befell the cabin.

They pulled up at a phone booth, This time Jeremy being the one dialing Henry’s phone number to ask for directions to his house. Seeing as Michael did not know how to get there without the metro. The music box was abandoned at the passenger seat, no longer needing to fulfill its function. Still, Michael argued to keep it, memories of clowns and helpful cooperation telling him not to drop his guard, or else they could be led astray, and end up dead.

So he kept it close. Jeremy had obliged, not seeing the harm in a melody meant to put children to sleep. That's what they were gonna do in a sense, gift them eternal sleep, If they felt hopeful, heaven. And If they didn’t, at least quiet.

Following his directions, they found out they had not been led astray but Charlotte Emily’s spirit or what remained, but by her father instead. What stood before them like a looming monolith erupting from its pavement pedestal was no house or place, it was Fredbear’s.

Henry met them at the front. Their conversation was brief and cold, feeling more like a tired worker asking about groceries, “How many?” and the answer was “five.”, “My daughter?” and the answer was “In the back.” It felt like the man wasn’t really there in the moment with them, walking past them without asking any questions about how they had driven the truck or the details of how the animatronics had ended up in such a state.

He opened up the back doors with ease, and his eyes quickly traveled to one of the corners in the far back. He climbed up with some difficulty, but cared not for the scrapes along his flesh as he slid closer to the slumped figure who had once been his daughter, perhaps still was. Even If it was just a fraction of her memories, he couldn't help but cry. Holding her in his arms, even If she was cold and did not make a sound. Still felt like a triumph.
“You came.” A little girl’s broken voice resounded from his creation, almost sounding as alive as it had seasons past.
“I was late.” The man stated, it was meant to be neutral, a fact, but sadness dripped with each uttered word. His heart tightened both from the exercise of carrying the robot and regret.
“Was the velvet cake any good?” She still had her priorities straight.
“Never ate a slice without you.” He admitted, passing through the doors and never looking behind, completely ignoring the funeral procession following closely behind him. The sound of the remains the teenagers were carrying was the only interruption to their small catch-up session.
‘What a waste.” Velvet cake truly was the best.

“I still failed them.” She said, in the same tone she used whenever she would break a base while playing. He let her down in the now empty main stage. Staying by her side after Jeremy and Michael went back to bring the others.
“Oh, my little girl, It was never your job to begin with. I failed them.” The man sniffed trying to catch his dripping nose, vision becoming blurrier and blurrier with each second that passed.
“But I did. I promised them new life, promised to protect them, made them… monsters, like me.” Henry couldn't help but swallow some saliva, his little girl, some would argue, was not so little after all she had done, he could feel the tears spilling from his eyes, he had truly been too late to save her.
“shh, it's all over now.” All that was left was to make sure her final departure would be nicer than last time.

He poured some of the gasoline that was left in the truck, pulled out a match, and ignited the building that once upon a time held his dreams and ambitions. Now nothing more than a tomb of regrets and wishes unfulfilled.

They did not move, or run away, most of them could not even move or flinch to show either pain or acceptance. And as the flames engulfed them along with the building that had started everything five years ago, Henry couldn't help but ask If he had truly done the right thing. Was putting them to rest a fair trade off for ensuring other’s safety? Would they find peace or simply non-existence? Would Charlotte regret her decision at the last second? He could not ask, and so he would need to live without an answer until the day he himself crossed that bridge.

Whatever it was, he could only hope it did not hurt. But as he watched the flames roar, he knew life was never that simple. The only thing he truly knew as he watched the sunset, was that the longest night of his life had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The Christmas lights were already being put across the streets’ lampposts and other similarly functional infrastructure. The storefronts had already been filled with decorated synthetic trees and Santa Claus cutouts. If you had asked a foreigner why stores couldn't seem to wait for Christmas to arrive, they would probably not know. But a business owner would tell you that they were furiously hoping that the buying of holiday presents would save them from the disaster that had happened that october. The Black Monday crash, especially after a year of diminishing sales numbers.

Foreseeable small business closures aside, the heroes of our lovely very heartwarming Christmas story were indeed not in the mood for the holidays, mostly due to it being November… and the night of Friday the 13th. Although, the person who had broken into Henry’s home was definitely not Jason Vorhees, as even though the windows had been broken, it had been from the outside, not from the inside, and with a brick instead of a horny teen's cadaver.

Henry Emily was not happy about this development. Well, he was happy about there not being a dead half-naked teen in front of his house, but his windows having been broken was a huge negative. He had just replaced them after a rowdy fully clothed teen boy had done a home-run on his living room window, and it had all been for nothing.

Still, with great care he went into the house, not minding the two teenagers following closely behind him and hoping that Michael lacked another lighter.
The house had been ransacked, but what was most peculiar were the specific places that had been ransacked.

The book-shelves, the small drawers in dressers, and piles upon piles of discarded books, thrown with no care for their state, or for the pages folding, bending and breaking. After seeing what had happened, Henry went to his workshop, searching for the item he had talked about on their ride back from Fredbear’s.

Meanwhile, as usual, Michael and Jeremy were on guard duty. Probably a terrible choice seeing their track record, but everyone else was dead, untrustworthy or in emergency care. So Henry’s options were limited. Fazbear afterall hired teenagers not because they had been proven to work better with all those young muscles and hopefully still unpolluted minds from the bad quality air of the city, but because they were easier to take advantage of and it was easy to trick a person with their first contract than with they 40th.

He should not have listened to William on that one. But to be quite fair, he should have not listened to him about anything. Not in following their stupid dream that he did not seem to care about, or in gis financial advice, or in building the springlocks, or in Fredbear’s mouth having solid teeth so that the immersion wouldn't be broken, or in his fucking lies on Charlotte’s birthday. Much less on opening Freddy’s.

In another timeline, a better one, he would have stayed a freelancer. And William would have hopefully had a car crash killing only himself. Even If his children would have ended up in the foster care system, at least they would have had a chance at a life. Maybe Charlie and Elizabeth would have gone to university together, two peas in a pod, and little Gregory would have never had to worry about fear.

Michael would have hopefully avoided ruining his life away from machinery, and would have probably ruined it some other way, something told him that the boy would have still found a way to encounter the police, but at least, he hoped, it would have been for a just cause, If the present was anything to go by.

Then again, If the present was anything to go by indeed, then that meant there was also a high chance it would have been something stupid. Jeremy had been attempting for around five minutes to get an enormous glass shard out of Michael’s foot, because he had stepped on one in spite of all of them having already seen the broken windows from the inside.

Michael had indeed not been paying attention to the floor, because he had been paying attention to something much less important to his health, but not to his eyes. Jeremy’s neck.

Was Michael a vampire? No, but he still fell for Jeremy’s neck… literally. Jeremy not buttoning his shirt properly could be categorised as a hazard for Michael’s officially. Henry simply shook his head from side to side, continuing to search his house for any clues of the intruder.

Jeremy on the other hand, was more frustrated than disappointed with Michael… kind of.
“Why won’t it come off? The stupid little shit.”
“Aww, I thought I was your dumb bitch.”
“Not you!” He paused, taking a breather after failing once more to push the glass out, “your foot!”
“He doesn’t have a name.”
“What? What does that have anything to do with it?”” Jeremy was starting to look around the room to see If he could break the glass some more.
“You can’t insult it If it doesn’t have a consciousness.” Michael explained matter of factly, leaving Jeremy too confused to speak.

Finally he left Michael alone in the counter, while he searched for the pincers in the cupboard. It was not very hygienic but at that point Henry’s kitchen already looked like a crime scene. “Operating” on Michael felt at least much more relaxing than playing the board game.Still, Michael did not help by making Jeremy laugh in his continued one-sided argument on what non-living things deserved to be treated as sentient.

“But it is attached to me, therefore it is a part of me and has a will of it’s own.”
“But what If I cut off your leg?” Jeremy was starting to feel tempted to do so.
“It would still be a part of me, so yeah, it deserves some respect.”
“Would a corpse count then?”
“Of course not, when someone dies it is over for them.” Jeremy looked at Michael, but behind Michael’s silver eyes, he could see nothing. No cogs turning. Not even a single synapse connection.

“But, you still move, Michael.” Michael had in fact, not realised he had disqualified himself. Still, between winning the argument and defending himself he knew wich one was more important, “So do the animatronics and they are not alive.” He continued to dig his own grave as Jeremy continued to dig in his flesh to get the shards out.
Jeremy paused for a moment, genuinely confused as to where Michael was heading, “But what about the animatronics with kids inside?”.
“Jeremy, the possessed ones don’t count.” As soon as those words had left his mouth, Michael had realised his folly.
“So you don’t count?” And with a smirk, Jeremy plucked the last glass shard. And Michael was free to put his leg down.

Michael muttered “Whatever.” as he followed behind Jeremy. From further inside the house an “Eureka!” was heard, resonating from behind a heavy metal door. When the pair entered, trying and failing to fit through the door at the same time. What they found beyond the garage’s indoor entrance was a mess of screws, bolts and hairpins. It seemed as If two separate hurricanes had crossed the room, searching for completely different things.

One of said hurricanes was currently pushing his weight onto a table next to some cupboards, one laid open, having been gutted, all of its contents spilled on the floor for everyone to see. And on top of the table, mist forming onto the cold steel surface from the old man's laboured breath layed a legendary weapon, or something that looked like one at the very least.
“Michael…” Henry continued to try and catch his breath, “Please, could you come closer?” Michael did a thumbs up with his only available thumb as he got closer to the workshop table, seeing the object with much more detail.

As Henry positioned it into place, the simple hinge joint was revealed to be a replacement elbow, and its canon a rather long forearm. To make up for the lack of palm or fingers. When he went to touch the canister and trigger both Henry and Jeremy quickly rushed to immobilise him. Jeremy more on instinct and Henry more on knowing Michael had already burned down at least two buildings. As far as he knew. He was starting to regret everything already.

Still, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to put his full trust on a teenager. The more he thought about it the worse it got in his head. He should have gone on that vacation to Hawaii like the new Fazbear Entertainment owner had suggested jokingly that fateful day. Still, he explained with full patience to the both of them how the garage flamethrower worked, how it had to be used, potential hazards and the like, hoping for dear god that at least one of them was paying attention.

Then, before the last word could leave Henry’s lips, a loud creak was heard across the house, coming from the main hallway. Heavy footsteps and some version of a human’s laboured breathing could be heard in the silence that had formed upon it being noticed.

Michael’s ghost limb of a heart attempted to leave his ribcage. That strange paused way of walking, stepping on every wooden floorboard as If it alone was at fault for the state of the household. His father was beyond that door.

But it did not sound like him, sharp intentional breaths had been replaced by laboured huffs and puffs, and the soles of his shoes sounded more like a metallophone than a hard leather bottom. His hand could be heard scratching at the delicate wallpapered walls for support.

He nodded towards Henry, hoping he would understand the confirmation he was searching for. And as the door’s handle began to turn. He fired. The first thing that hit their nostrils was the smoke. Henry quickly rushed to open the garage door, letting to two teenagers pasa before closing it behind them, but they had miscalculated

The hand of what was once a normal man pressed around Henry’s throat, like a boa constrictor strangling its prey. And then Henry closed the garage door. The broken windows continued feeding the fire that was now burning brighter than the morning star with oxygen, making it bigger and bigger, engulfing the garage. The smoke was making Henry suffocate faster and faster, and with his last words, he informed William of his ultimate fate:

“See you in hell, partner.”

“Don’t keep waiting.” A voice as broken and inhuman as its owner replied, filled with pained glee. And with a final crack, Henry Emily’s limp body fell to the floor. His mouth had already filled with ashes by the time he had crossed over to the flipside.

He could feel himself unravelling, the substance he had oh so cherished in life evaporating from his new vessel. He had to get out, his work was not over. He still needed to put him back together, like it or not. He was his son, and he would do anything. anything in his power to put everything where it belonged once more. Everything Michael had broken he would fix, as he had always done.

He moved, slower and more calculated this time. Not caring for the superficial things the fire was burning off of him. He slammed against the door, “I. WILL. PUT. YOU. BACK. TOGETHER. AGAIN.” When he finally broke through the weakened metal door, he found something he had never expected to see.

His son had not run away this time. No, he stood his ground, his finger on the trigger. No matter how close he got, how much he tried to break his composure, he did not move. That bloody cocksucker.

Michael pulled the trigger. flame erupted once more, but he managed to stay put in spite of the kickback thanks to Jeremy’s help steadying him. William did not approve of this, in fact every bit of felt melded with skin, bone fused with frame and plastic sunken in flesh burnt off by the burning hit only strengthened his resolve to continue. But then he felt fresh flesh touching scolding iron, and a weight keeping him away from his final encore.

William had failed to kill Henry off because he was a sloppy bitch, and had forgotten that you should always double tap the dead before moving onto more pressing affairs. Still, the dumb fool had made his son hesitate on the trigger, letting go for a brief moment. He attempted a smile, but all he managed to do was to burn the flash around his lips as it slid against the metal bars keeping the animatronic’s jaw open.

“Don’t Stop!” a shout, a whispered plea. A look that was nothing but confirmation of something that had been decided without words. A click, the sound of moving fuel, a spark alight and the smell of burning flesh filled the cold november right at that second. An execution of hangman and butcher signed with a look.

The two men looked at each other, one desperate, trying to swim up to save himself from the lake of flames. All of the things he still had to discover and do, mocking him from beyond the curtain of red flames, but unable to due to the other man having accepted his fate. Like a fetter keeping its prisoner behind bars, and like an anchor keeping a ship from floating afar. Before he could regret even more than he already had, he would sink his old partner to the bottom of the red lake, and make sure to watch him drown.

Even after any movement had stopped, the fire continued to roar, like a bonfire in Saint John’s night, it didn't seem to want to go out as long as onlookers watched. It had started to snow, one of those snows where the snowflakes melt upon touching the ground, and yet the flame continued to glow bright, brighter than anything they had ever watched before.

After Michael’s feet had given up, and after Jeremy's hands had fallen behind him to console him, the flames never stopped. And after tears had failed to leave his eyes for a loss he did not care for, and for a loss he did not deserve, he continued to feel the warmth of the flames. Even after the ashes had settled and the wind had stopped to howl, no matter how much pressure Jeremy applied while hugging him, the flames continued to roar in his heart. Even after making sure the corpses were nothing more than powder, his brain refused to acknowledge that it was over. And so he did not.

He got up, and without a word Jeremy followed. They still had one final matter to take care of. One final mistake to fix. Both as much theirs as of the two men who had burned “alive” before them. Perhaps even more. A final responsibility to achieve their happiest day.

Deep in the suburbs, passing the forest, and on top of a sinister lonely hill, their final destination was awaiting. Along with the remnants of what once had been the people completing their once happy families. And yet, even after they had turned the ignition, and left that faraway neighbourhood, the smoke continued to rise, now carrying nothing but the broken dreams of two men who had achieved nothing but pain for those around them.

If the world was truly righteous, both of them would get what they deserved. One to see the one he had loved and cared for. And another to face punishment beyond what any human could give to a broken soul like his. But what hurt the most was that as far as Michael knew, his father had barely started to pay for what he’d done when he left. No further justice or pain.

The cruelty of it all made him want to rip his eyes out. A cruel joke, at the cost of those children’s lives. A cruel joke that now stained his own hands.

Disgusting.

Chapter Text

A drive after a funeral is often quiet, at best filled with silence, at worst with tears. In the end the floodgate always ends up opening. Jeremy and Michael drove towards a location they knew well by that point, only really speaking to each other when asking directions or when Jeremy saw a police control down the road that Michael had failed to notice.
They felt empty. Michael had expected to celebrate his father’s passing. He had often dreamt about waking up one day only to find the man died from ruptured intestines, eroded away by alcohol overtime. He would cry fake tears as he hugged his mother and siblings (although reluctantly at the time) as he saw a brighter future ahead. But all he saw ahead was the dark road, and a few meters of cracked asphalt filled with potholes.

Jeremy did not feel satisfied, it was stronger than If someone had stolen a piece of red velvet cake he had claimed for himself. Stronger than someone cutting in line in front of you at your favorite event, leaving you out. And stronger than seeing a truly guilty man walk out of jail early for “good conduct”. Revenge still ravaged and made his lungs hurt, but now there was nothing and no one else left to blame for what had happened, but himself.

He was startled by Michael touching his face, only to realize he was doing so to wipe the tears that had unknowingly escaped his flesh. He had not noticed he had been holding so strongly onto the safety belt. Michael was the first to break the silence.

“Hey, I still need you on the lookout so that I don’t make any dumb mistakes.”
“You already skipped a stop sign.” Jeremy had indeed been trying his best to keep his attention on the road, unlike Michael, “See? How’s a dumbass like me gonna get us to our destination with you unable to see?”
“You are not that dumb.” Michael’s right ear did a double take.
“Can you repeat that?”
“No.” Jeremy said, louder than the previous answer.
“Sucks. It’s not like you to be so mushy. It is kind of off putting.” Jeremy arched his left eyebrow at that statement, “And it is not like you to be so quiet and rational.”
“Aww. Stop it with the compliment feast, you make me wanna punch you.” The other teen was quick to reply with, “Be my guest!”. At least that managed to get a quiet chuckle out of Michael, though it was quickly extinguished by the somber mood, and something important coming into view.

The house had not been abandoned for that long, only a week had passed since he had left. But just in those few days it felt like the house on the hill had transformed into the house of Usher. As much a monster as the man who had once inhabited it.

There were no lights on in the house. At least no lights that belonged. A pair of lanterns would appear and disappear from the windows, synchronized, one following the other. When they got out of the car, they found the front door closed with a lock and key. It seemed they would need to enter through the back. They circled the house, trying to look into the house’s windows for the potential threat they were looking for.

Finally, they reached the back, finding something Michael had almost forgotten about, the reason he had been compelled to run away. Footprints on the still wet ground revealed a new entryway through his bedroom window. Michael carefully avoided the glass shards while climbing, making sure to avoid anything big enough that would stick out of his skin and difficult movement. He then helped Jeremy get in without having to touch them. As intact as they had been when they climbed at least.

So not much.

The glass seemed to have been broken recently. Michael’s room looked the same as it had during their encounter with what remained of Ennard that had failed to fit into Michael. What great memories!

The room was silent, only their breaths could be heard. Michael stayed close, whispering to Jeremy “Behind the door.” And then staying as still as possible. At first, all Jeremy saw was the darkness, but soon after a metallic sound was heard, everything became clear. Michael’s heart had jumped on instinct, and it had stuck the landing.

The door of the bedroom was ajar and beyond it, through the small slit left from the improperly closed door, the central hallway could be seen. Two lights shone brightly beyond. Michael stood still, But Jeremy was unable to. He stepped forward, one foot at a time and sure enough, behind the door, two lit light bulbs stared back from their sunken holes. For the first time, looking up to those familiar yet unfamiliar eyes, he felt small.

He had expected a shout, a cry or even a bite. But nothing came but silence and perhaps admiration, even If not acceptance. Regardless, there was peace in those eyes which he had not seen during their life.

They held out a golden paw, and he grabbed it in return. And they did not let go. Instead, they moved their head in order to see beyond him, beyond Jeremy. Michael had yet to move a single muscle forward. Instead paralyzed he looked beyond Jeremy, and Beyond Fredbear. Somewhere in the past neither of what remained of the two children could see.
Finally, the yellow bear moved its left paw, offering it, and after much hesitation, Michael grabbed it, with all the force his remaining right arm could muster. They walked hand in hand, barely fitting the cardboard house’s halls, and separated by the animatronic between them, but they did not complain, far from it, they were savoring it.

Finally, outside, a clear sky and the smell of wet mud greeted them. It was a beautiful night. They continued to walk hand in hand, not making a sound. Words had become unnecessary after everything had been cleared, and If Jeremy opened his mouth, he knew he would not be able to close the floodgates that would open. So he tried his best to stay in the moment.

They both recognized the direction in which they were headed, a small dir hill, or big filled hole, unmarked and definitely not good enough for the soul it had failed to harbor and help to rest. Probably dug illegally for the purposes of a man who was now dead. But still, it was the closest either soul had known to rest.
The weight of a giant fell on top of the empty tomb. Michael let go, understanding somewhat the paper he would play once more. But Jeremy continued beside them. Once more, Michael was deprived of a few clarifying words. But still, he knew he would rather say nothing instead of the wrong thing, or an empty apology. What was done, was done. Still, when he got the flamethrower ready, and after they nodded to confirm it, he couldn't help it:

“Goodbye.” He said softly. And so, they were lit aflame.

Unlike the murderer of one, and the father of the other, they did not struggle against the flames. In fact, the only movement they performed when they were ignited was looking at the starry sky one final time before closing their eyes. Soon, foam and fur burnt off, metal bent and melted, and whatever remained of their siblings burnt off into the atmosphere. Perhaps the particles and atoms that once had comprised them traveled towards the sky and the stars for a better view.

It was wishful thinking. But wishful thinking would be all that they would have until they would get to reunite with them. Be it a version of heaven, or be it nothingness.
Still, even If a part of Michael believed that it was over. Something still compelled him to honor their departure. With it’s duty performed, he separated the now useless flame thrower from his upper arm, and placed it vertically on top of the now finally filled tomb. Even If the only thing filling it was meaning. Jeremy left, in search of something, coming back with a wet branch that was still flexible, and putting it on perpendicular across the abandoned arm.

“We can come back tomorrow.” His arm was not enough.
“Yes, we can.” Jeremy agreed. At least a couple of fresh flowers would make it look more like a grave. A respected grave. A remembered one.

On the drive back, the storefronts illuminated their faces, ready for the Holidays. As If they did not know how many Christmases had been ruined that year. The movie theater was filled with posters full of smiling children, mocking them. Although among them a peculiar film called Robocop appeared, probably some propaganda. Still, the somewhat silly concept appeared charming to Jeremy when thinking about Michael’s left behind arm.

They had made sure to arrive just after 6 A.M. had passed, thankfully for Jeremy, Mr. Newton was never there to truly verify whether he had been in the building or not.
Other than the clock-in-machine, but he never looked at that. A waste of money really, it was like having cameras and never turning them on. They listened closely for any strange movements or sounds in the building, but the only thing they could hear were a couple of rats that definitely broke the health code.

"May I?" asked Michael as he took off his new hat, remembering once more that perfect moment from The Immortal and the Restless. To his surprise, Jeremy instead of answering, put each hand on one of Michael shoulders and with a serious face, estated, "Michael, We are not fucking in a Freddy Fazbear's pizza, I'd rather die."
"May I only kiss you, you pervert?"
"No, you may not." And so Michael's hopes were crushed, be it because of the location his brain had decided was good enough, his current appearance, or his shitty personality, it seemed Jeremy did not want him.
He slumped against the wall as he pretended not to care, muttering such positive things to himself as, "your loss." and "that's gay anyways." That was until his brooding was interrupted by the sound of the still fresh smelling plastic entrance door opening wide to let the manager inside.

“Excuse me, I need to do something.” He put his hand high before lowering it again, the lack of both sleep and school in the last few days was affecting his neurons negatively.
“Fine, but be quick, I don’t want an eight year old to bite my ankles.” Neither did Jeremy, and yet here he was, maybe arson was truly the solution to all your fazbear-flavored problems.
“Sure boss! Will be back in a minute.”
“Don’t call me that.” He was just a manager, If he was a boss he wouldn't be there.
“Ok, boss!” And then he was off to the bathrooms, predictable. Hopefully to do something normal and not jerk off while looking at some magazine. Like that Carl guy.
“Teenagers…” The middle aged man sighed. He was feeling older than usual. Eye rolls were also getting more difficult with his age. Regardless, he prepared everything for the dayshift, and after making sure everyone was at their post, he prayed to god that Friday the 13th being an unlucky day was just a superstition. The restaurant deserved at least one calm final goodbye.

Everyone knew that an open concept bathroom really meant a bathroom with no privacy. And this was true for the New and Improved Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, the only restaurant with no kitchen, and almost no inside doors. The only modesty the guests were the anti-doing-cocaine doors that only covered your privates when using a bathroom stall.
Thankfully for Jeremy, that also meant that localizing his favorite fruitcake was a piece of cake, “Knock, Knock! Can I come in? If you can't tell, I'm in a bit of a hurry.” He could see the grey pants trough the aforementioned big fucking gap.

“What If I’m doing something?” Michael bit back.
“Well, that’s too fucking bad because I’m coming in anyways!” Breaking into the stall was harder than it had looked, he eventually had to force the lock from outside, instead of making the cool entrance he had planned.

Michael was indeed, not doing anything. Well, anything other than looking like he was having an existential crisis in the bathroom, but that was what bathrooms were for really. For boy’s to cry while alone. Still, Michael was not crying, both because he could not, and because he didn’t look like he was about to die again. Good signs all in all.
He did have his hands on his head, and hus facial expression could only be read as “The fuck do you want?”And so, to answer him, he kissed him. He continued to kiss him, in probably the worst place on earth to do it. Perhaps he should have waited before his shift was over, but they had already postponed talking about anything for so long. He felt like If he failed to do it now, he would regret having said “no” the first time. As funny as it was.

Still, after a moment, to catch his breath, he couldn’t help but ask, “Wait a minute, you can’t eat. What kind of excuse was that?”
“The kind of excuse the person you were kissing a second ago thought about.”
“Ugh, guess bad taste really does run in my family.” That earned him a kick to the shin. It seemed like he still had it from his vending machine kicking days. Still, Jeremy knew he had tried to be soft with it. Emphasis on tried.

“I’m calling the police!” Jeremy shouted.
“Oh no, not the police! Not like they aren't gonna arrest us both!” Their laughter started to subside as they stopped finding the prospect so funny anymore. Finally, trying to cheer his partner in crime up, Michael offered a hug and Jeremy accepted.
“I’ll be on the lookout today just in case, so don’t worry, I’ll be close by.”
“To set something on fire?”
“No! Me? Fire? Never… Now stop stalling and get out there!” He pushed the boy out of the stall and after making sure the coast was clear, he put on his “stellar” master disguise and came out himself. Nothing suspicious at all about the convo of a wide brimmed fedora hat and sunglasses. Nah.

Only one of the four party rooms were occupied, explaining the limited staff. Abigail was written in colorful letters in a hard to read font full of swirls and melting technicolor letters. If it weren’t for the context, no one would have guessed what they said. The same name was written on the cake and on a non-brand related birthday card that seemed out of place. Although upon closer inspection everything made sense, inside was a message from Officer Vannesa, apologizing for being unable to attend Abby’s birthday due to being in the hospital. It even had some apology money inside. How thoughtful.

The first ones to arrive were the titular little girl and her parents. Abigail did hug his leg and side mostly, before immediately going off to play a new arcade machine that had always been occupied the previous days. She basically had the whole restaurant to herself for the price of a party room. If it was anywhere else in the whole entire world, Jeremy would have said it was a steal.

Little by little, more families and children showed up, “Less than the usual” one of the delivery boy’s commented after setting down the first pizza. But more than what Jeremy had seen any time. Cassidy and Gregory had not been so lucky. Still, it was nice to see a child he knew happy and thankfully alive for once. Even by lunchtime, when they all started singing happy birthday, he found himself compelled to join in.

“Happy birthday to you!” The sound was kind of overwhelming.
“Happy birthday to you.” He couldn't hear Michael.
“Happy birthday sweet Abby!” Or see Michael.
“Happy birthday to yo-” The final vowel elongated as metallic screeching made Jeremy look upwards. The patron’s “O” and “U” sounds turned into high screeches of terror upon seeing a metallic skeleton hanging from the ceiling, its head and dozens of teeth pointing like a warning sign to Jeremy’s skull. His last thought was “No” before he felt a force rip him away from the ground. And the next thing he knew, his head was against the floor.

A floor that wasn’t cold, or hard. A floor that was blurry and purple and black. A floor which smelled of decay he had smelled many times before. And a floor clean of any blood. That was when he knew without a doubt.

That Michael had saved him.

The End.

Credits:

Michael Afton became a skincare product model. Specifically the “before using the skincare product” model. It wasn't honest advertising, but it worked! And that was all that mattered. He got married in 2015 and since then he has kept up the tradition of scaring children on Halloween, much to his spouse’s dismay. He is now considered a cryptid and teenager’s love to take pictures with him. He is not a big fan of this. He never got his driver’s license.

Jeremy Fitzgerald went on to study at university and became a famed homicide detective. Even getting to work on a few cases with the Hurricane Police Department. Thankfully none of them related to the Fazbear Entertainment brand. He got married in 2015 and since then has dedicated his career to giving Stranger Danger talks at public school’s across Utah. His spouse really likes painting portraits of him. He never got his driver’s license either.

Ralph Newton eventually became C.E.O. of Fazbear Entertainment. Retiring early after winning an impressive amount of lawsuits, he has been living the good American life. After this he went on to become the president of the United States for the Democratic Party. One of his greatest and proudest achievements in office was the legalization of same sex marriage. Years later, he has proudly boasted that he fought for it out of the kindness in his heart, and not because he was under any kind of personal threat of arson.

Vanessa A. Williams ascended to chief of police at the Hurricane Police Department after Clay Burke’s retirement. She eventually adopted a kid off the street and has been advocating for reforms in the foster system ever since. She has been seen with a child deemed “feral” by her neighbors, but it is unclear whether this is her child, her little brother or two racoons in a costume she has disguised as a child. She often visits Mr. Bentley’s niece to make her company… along with the demon child. He really likes her dog Chucky.

Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert continued to own ambient bars well past retirement age. They often would march at the front of both protests and marches alike. Even hanging a photo of Frank in memory of him in their little hole in the wall. Two of their usual patrons will often “perform” in front of children each Halloween night, creating a beautiful tradition of traumatizing children every final night of October. Their request of doing a show during Christmas has been denied multiple times. For good reason.

Benjamin remained a close friend of the Gilbert’s, and in spite of his broken heart, he found love once again, years later in a vacation in Spain. He got married in 2005 and since then he has examined many Spanish youngster’s driving skills. Everyone who has ever had the pleasure of meeting him has only had nice things to say… In front of him. He would often send postcards back to an unknown house in Hurricane boasting about his wonderful husband, Emilio.