Chapter Text
Michael stood just inside the threshold of Circus Baby’s Pizza World, his senses bombarded by the technicolor onslaught. The past location, Fredbear’s, in all its dusty browns and dim amber lights, was nothing like this.
This place was louder. Brighter. Sharper.
Candy-striped walls. Neon ceilings. Glittering animatronic cutouts that blinked in timed intervals, guiding children toward different “zones” like fluorescent Pied Pipers. Everything gleamed, polished chrome, tiled floors, flashing lights, and the constant din of layered audio: mechanical laughter, music-box jingles, kids screaming with glee.
And beneath it all, something colder.
Like the building itself was hiding something behind all the gloss.
Michael stepped aside as a group of children rushed past, nearly crashing into him. He forced himself forward, weaving through the growing crowd, ignoring the sticky smudges of cotton candy fingers and the occasional parent bumping into his shoulder without apology.
He hadn’t seen Elizabeth since she walked in, still clearly upset from what William had said. And despite how unfair it had been, Michael knew she’d probably listen to him. Still, he didn’t trust that to be enough. Not in this place. Not with that animatronic in the building.
He scanned the crowd, passing by the game arcade, filled with pixelated screens and blinking leaderboards, and through the food court, where “Fazburgers” sizzled behind a glass kitchen and teenage employees tried not to look dead inside.
Every step he took added weight to his chest. The layout felt like a maze. No map in sight. He passed by an animatronic performance stage where Funtime Freddy, Ballora and Funtime Foxy were already dancing and waving at the crowd. A bunch of little kids screamed in delight when Candy Cadet rolled out on his wheels.
Michael didn’t stop.
Michael finally found her near the edge of the performance area, sitting on the corner of a brightly colored bench shaped like a slice of cake. Her feet dangled just above the floor, kicking slowly. She had a soda in one hand and a bright pink balloon string wrapped around the other. But she wasn’t smiling.
He walked over, easing down onto the bench beside her. The fake frosting edge squeaked under his weight.
“You okay?” he asked after a beat.
Elizabeth gave a stiff shrug, eyes still forward.
“He wasn’t mad,” she said flatly, “if that’s what you’re thinking. He just told me not to go near Circus Baby.”
Michael didn’t respond right away. She glanced at him, clearly wanting him to say something.
“I mean...” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “he’s probably just trying to be careful. Circus Baby’s new. Still being tested, maybe. It’s not that he doesn’t want you near her, just... not yet.”
Elizabeth scoffed under her breath. “Then why did he make her for me?”
Michael looked away, jaw tightening. The hum of music and distorted laughter carried across the room from the stage. The Funtime animatronics were halfway through another dance routine, kids screaming in delight in front of them.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But if he says it’s not ready-”
She turned on him, frustration flaring in her voice. “Are you really defending him right now?”
Michael flinched. “I’m not, I’m just saying maybe it’s not about you. Maybe it’s just-”
“What?” she snapped. “A safety thing? You think I’m stupid? You think I don’t know how to be careful?”
“No, Liz, I didn’t mean it like-” He sighed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “It’s not about you being careful. It’s about him. About what he built. I don’t trust it, okay?”
She didn’t say anything.
“I don’t trust what’s inside that thing,” Michael added, softer now. “I saw the blueprints a while ago. It’s not... I just don’t like it.”
Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to the floor, her fingers tightening around the balloon string. The silence stretched a little too long.
“I just wanted to feel like he cared,” she mumbled. “Like I was finally getting something. And now he won’t even let me near her.”
Michael didn’t know how to answer that. He wanted to say he understood, but he didn’t. Not in the way she did. Not with that kind of hope.
Instead, he reached over and nudged her arm with his.
Elizabeth didn’t look at him, but she didn’t pull away either.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
Michael sat in silence beside Elizabeth, unsure if he had helped at all. The noise of the pizzeria seemed to swell around them, bright and chaotic, like the whole place was meant to distract rather than entertain. Elizabeth stayed quiet, arms folded, her balloon bobbing idly in the air behind her.
Then, from across the main floor, something caught Michael’s eye.
Through the sea of children and strollers and flashing lights, he spotted Jeremy. He was standing near the arcade, arms crossed loosely, posture uncertain. He hadn’t noticed Michael at first, but when he finally did, he gave a somewhat hesitant wave.
Michael froze.
Their awkward conversation had been a step forward, but not a full reconciliation. And now, in this loud, disorienting place, the thought of trying to bridge that gap again made Michael’s stomach twist.
He felt Elizabeth shift beside him.
“I saw,” she said, without looking at him.
Michael didn’t move. His hands were curled into loose fists on his lap.
“I’m not gonna break, you know,” Elizabeth added after a beat. “You don’t have to hover like I’m gonna run to Circus Baby the second you blink.”
He finally glanced at her. “It’s not that. I just... don’t want to leave you like this.”
She turned to face him, her expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. “I’m twelve, not five. I can sit on a bench without supervision.”
“Liz-”
She rolled her eyes. “Go.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Go talk to your friend. You’ve barely spoken to anyone since...” She paused, expression faltering for a second, but she pushed on. “Since David. It’s okay. I’ll be here.”
Michael stared at her. There was something in her voice that reminded him of their mom, not the words exactly, but the weight behind them. She was trying to be strong. For him. Even though she was still hurting, too.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice quiet.
She nodded. “I’ll just sit here and judge the creepy circus animatronics from a safe distance.”
Michael gave a small, lopsided smile.
He stood, hesitating just a moment longer before walking away, glancing back once to make sure Elizabeth really was okay. She was leaning back now, watching the kids laugh and run past. Trying to look indifferent. But she gave him a little wave when she caught him checking.
Michael turned and made his way through the crowd toward Jeremy.
And for the first time in a long time, he let himself hope this conversation might not end in silence.
Jeremy noticed him approaching and straightened up slightly, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Hey,” Michael said, offering a stiff nod.
“Hey,” Jeremy returned, a bit awkward but more open than before. “Didn’t think you’d actually come over.”
Michael gave a half-shrug. “Didn’t think I would either.”
A silence passed between them, not uncomfortable exactly, just uncertain. Jeremy finally broke it. As per the usual it seems.
“This place is... weird.”
Michael looked around at the bright neon signs, the bizarrely futuristic animatronic cutouts, and the spinning prize wheels that lined the back wall.
“Yeah,” he said. “Feels like a candy-coated fever dream.”
Jeremy huffed a laugh. “At least it doesn’t look anything like Fredbear’s. That... helps.”
Michael’s eyes flicked to him, watching how Jeremy’s smile faltered.
“I almost didn’t come,” Jeremy added, voice dropping. “Didn’t feel right. Being here, I mean. But my mom said I should try to move on. And... I guess it’s easier to pretend nothing happened when everything around you is brand new.”
Michael nodded slowly. “It’s hard to pretend.”
Jeremy didn’t say anything at first, but then glanced at one of the nearby machines. “You still suck at Dino-Blast Rampage?”
Michael smirked. “You wish.”
Jeremy gestured toward the console. “Prove it.”
Michael didn’t hesitate. The two of them stepped up to the retro cabinet, pixel dinosaurs roaring across the screen, the volume slightly too loud, the colors far too saturated. Jeremy slapped in a few tokens. Michael took Player Two.
And for a few minutes, everything else faded.
They laughed when one of them missed an obvious power-up. Trash-talked in half-whispers about who had the better aim. Michael found himself smiling, really smiling, for what felt like the first time in weeks. The tension between them began to loosen, just slightly, like a knot slowly coming undone.
Jeremy was the one to break the silence again, eyes still on the screen.
“I miss David.”
Michael didn’t answer right away. He missed him too. But saying it felt like tearing open something that had barely begun to scab over.
Instead, he muttered, “Yeah. Me too.”
Their scores flashed on the screen. Jeremy had won by twenty points.
“Still suck,” he said, nudging Michael’s arm.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Beginner’s luck.” Knowing full well that's bull.
They didn’t say anything after that, didn’t need to.
For a while, at least, it was enough just to be there. Together.
The minutes melted away into tokens and flashing lights.
Michael and Jeremy kept hopping from one arcade cabinet to the next, Zombie Highway, Pixel Racer Turbo, even an old pinball machine that barely worked unless you smacked the side just right. Some of the games were new, shiny and overdesigned with rainbow lights and overly complex controls. But others... others were relics. Old enough to have seen countless greasy fingers, to have eaten hundreds of dollars’ worth of quarters. The kinds of games they used to play with Max and Simon, laughing until their stomachs hurt, daring each other to beat the high score.
For a while, Michael was just there, just a teenager being a teenager. Not the oldest Afton sibling. Not the boy who had pulled his little brother too close to the jaws of a yellow bear. Not the kid who had to watch his father shovel dirt over a body that never should’ve died.
Just Michael, next to Jeremy, laughing like the world hadn’t fallen apart months ago.
Jeremy was laughing too, genuinely, the nervous edge in his voice gone for the first time since Fredbear’s. He shoved Michael when he lost again at Pixel Racer, and Michael shoved him back with a muttered, “Still blaming the controls, huh?”
And neither of them said it, but they both felt it: the absence of Max and Simon. The missing two.
Michael was caught up in it, in the noise, the warmth, the temporary normalcy. It felt like some fragile kind of freedom. His chest didn’t feel so tight. His thoughts weren’t crawling all over themselves. The hum of grief that had taken root in him was quieter now, background noise against the clatter of game tokens and digital soundtracks.
He had almost forgotten.
Forgotten the gnawing tension that lived just beneath the surface.
Forgotten what today was.
Forgotten that his sister was still somewhere in the pizzeria, alone.
It wasn’t until he looked up from a shooter game and saw the time flickering above the counter that a strange chill ran through his spine. It was later than he thought. The party crowd had begun thinning out. Some families were already herding their kids toward the exit, prize bags and balloons in hand.
And William, he wouldn’t have kept an eye on her.
His stomach dropped.
Michael’s fingers fell away from the game controls as the screen flashed Game Over. Jeremy looked over, noticing the shift immediately.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but Michael was already stepping back.
“I—I forgot,” Michael muttered, his voice hoarse. “I was supposed to check on Elizabeth.”
Jeremy blinked. “She’s here?”
“Yeah, I came with her,” he said quickly, already scanning the crowd. “I just, I got distracted.”
Michael’s mind raced, heart beginning to pound. William had told Elizabeth to stay away from Circus Baby, and she’d listened... hadn’t she?
Jeremy moved to follow him, but Michael raised a hand. “Stay here,” he said, almost more to himself than to Jeremy. “I need to find her.”
He didn’t wait for a response.
The arcade lights now felt too bright. The music too loud. The warmth in his chest had vanished, replaced by a cold sense of dread as he pushed through the crowd, desperately looking for his sister.
Michael pushed through the sea of guests, weaving between strollers and bouncing toddlers, parents chatting over slices of greasy pizza. Every second that passed without seeing her red hair in the crowd made his stomach twist tighter.
He checked the play area, nothing.
He checked the dining tables, empty plates, no Elizabeth.
He hurried past the prize counter, peered into the corners of the party rooms, even glanced beneath tables on the off chance she’d ducked out of view like David used to when he got overwhelmed. Still nothing.
Near the restrooms, a woman in a blue coat stepped out, drying her hands with a paper towel.
Michael approached without thinking. “Excuse me, sorry,” he said, voice breathless. “Have you seen a girl with red hair? She’s twelve, kind of small. I’m, she’s my sister.”
The woman looked at him for a moment, surprised by his urgency. “Red hair?” she repeated, brows furrowing. “No, I don’t think so. Sorry.”
Michael barely nodded before turning away, a sick panic now sitting in his chest like a stone.
Where the hell was she?
He circled the stage again. Nothing. He checked the hallway near the staff room, the area behind the prize wheel, nowhere. The more he looked, the more the crowd seemed to blur together into faceless noise, none of them the one person he needed to find.
Then, through the glass doors, he caught sight of him.
William Afton stood outside under the fading gold of the afternoon sun, waving warmly at a family as they packed up into their car. His smile was broad, practiced, every inch the charming host. The kids beamed as they left, still clutching cotton candy and party hats.
Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He pushed open the doors and strode across the pavement, boots slapping hard against the concrete.
William turned just as the family drove off, face still stuck in that smooth, welcoming grin. It faltered the moment he saw Michael.
“Have you seen Elizabeth?” Michael asked without preamble. His voice was tight, urgent. “I, I can’t find her. I’ve looked everywhere.”
William’s eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching, not in concern, but in what looked almost like annoyance.
“Did she go home early?” Michael pressed. “Did you send her home or-?”
“No,” William interrupted, his tone clipped. “She hasn’t left.”
Michael’s breath hitched. “Then where is she? I’ve checked every corner of this place. She’s gone, Dad.”
William stared at him for a long moment, eyes unreadable. “I told her to stay away from Circus Baby,” he said flatly. “Did she listen?”
Michael’s chest turned cold.
“I, I don’t know,” he admitted.
William looked at him with that blank, hollow stare Michael had come to associate with his worst memories. “I think you should go home.”
Michael stared at him. “What? No. Why?”
“Because I said so,” William snapped. “I’m going to handle it. I don’t need you getting in the way again.”
Michael’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “I can help. We can cover more ground if we-”
“No,” William interrupted again, his tone firm and final. “You’ve done enough. You’re too emotional, you don’t think straight when it matters. Just go home.”
There it was, the same old contempt dressed up as concern.
Michael clenched his jaw, breath shallow in his chest. He wanted to argue, to scream, to throw something. But instead, he nodded stiffly.
Because even if he didn’t trust William, didn’t like the man, didn’t even see him as a real father anymore, there was one thing Michael couldn’t deny.
William was efficient.
Cold. Precise. Focused. When he wanted something done, it got done. Even if it was cruel, even if it came at a cost.
So if anyone could find Elizabeth quickly, it was him.
Michael turned and walked away, each step dragging with the weight of everything unsaid.
As he reentered the slowly emptying main floor, he spotted Jeremy waiting by the doors, glancing around like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave. The lollipop in his hand had long since lost its shine.
“Hey,” Jeremy called as Michael approached. “Everything okay?”
Michael shook his head. “No. Elizabeth’s missing. My dad told me to go home.”
Jeremy’s eyes widened. “What? That’s... are you serious?”
“I’ve looked everywhere,” Michael said, voice low. “He said he’d handle it. He didn’t want me involved.”
“You want me to come with you?” Jeremy offered, stepping forward slightly. “I mean, I can stay with you, or-”
Michael gave him a tired, grateful half-smile. “No. It’s fine. Just... let me know if you hear anything.”
Jeremy hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
Michael left without looking back, pushing open the doors and stepping into the night air.
It was colder now.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked. Not because he believed everything would be alright, but because if there was a chance, any chance, of Elizabeth being found...
It’d be because William was ruthless enough to get results.
And for once, Michael had to count on that.
Even if everything inside him screamed not to.