Left Behind

Father's Day

Michael Afton knew he was a bad kid.

Good kids don't take out their frustrations on their younger siblings when their mother dies. Good kids didn't have their younger sisters go missing before she even made it to double digits. Good kids didn't pull pranks on their only remaining sibling on his birthday.

That's all it was meant to be though, a prank.

How many times had their father assured parents that the robots he made were harmless? How many times had he encouraged parents and children alike to get as close as they wanted to the machines? He'd said they were safe, and Michael trusted that, even if Evan didn't.

But, as it turns out, Evan was right not to trust them, and yet he was still the one to pay for Michael's poor choices...

o0o

Michael didn't know how to describe what he felt as he sat in the cold metal chair by his brother's side. One hand clutching the boy's smaller one hard enough that if he was awake, he would be whining about the tight grip.

Their father was out in the hall, speaking with the doctors, but Michael didn't focus on them, he couldn't focus on much of anything to be honest. He felt detached, like he was watching himself from several miles away. "

I'm sorry," he whispered to the younger, the sound infinitely quiet against the empty room. The heart monitor drummed in his ears, the space between each beat tauntingly long, like a cliffhanger keeping him on edge for fear that the next might be the last he hears.

Evan was impossibly small in the hospital bed, his creepy golden bear settled in his arms. Michael could swear it was staring straight through him with its dark beady eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, as if to make sure it had heard him as well.

He didn't dare to look up at Evan, he knew that even with the tubes and bandages he'd been smothered in the pillow would be stained red with his blood. Michael himself was still covered in Evan's blood, he realized with a horror that was infinitely far away from his mind yet encompassed his very being at the same time. "I'm sorry."

His Foxy mask was on the floor a few feet away, blood coating the muzzle as its empty eyes stared up at him. He could vaguely remember tossing it off a few minutes, or maybe hours, earlier. Rage having flooded his system with the need for justice against the character he once loved before the numbness set in.

"I'll be better." He promised, surprising even himself with the words. But once he said them, he found that they wouldn't stop. "I'll be better for you; I'll do better for you." He looked down at Evan's hand, casting fleeting glances up to his covered face, as if struggling to meet the boys' eyes. "Please, I'll be better, just give me a chance and I swear I will." He finally managed to keep his gaze set on Evan and- from the edge of his vision Michael could see the heart monitor, the line between beats seeming to stretch on and on. So long that Michael felt almost enraptured by how long that singular moment was lasting before the realization hit him like a tidal wave, he shot out of his chair. "DAD!" he screamed, stepping back with his eyes glued to the monitor, the ringing of a flatline finally piercing through his mind as the door slammed open from behind him. In the next moment, doctors and nurses were flooding the room.

Despite the chaos, Michael managed to meet his father's gaze.

Red rimmed the man's gray eyes, and his jaw was lax, he looked almost lost standing in the doorway. But then, as if a switch was flipped, his entire demeanor changed. His jaw set and his eyes hardened into something cold and harsh. He turned, dark glare still trained on his eldest son, his last child, as he left the room without a word.

Michael came back to reality alone in the hallway, staring down at his Foxy mask, grip so tight that it wrinkled and strained the faux fur.

Years later, when Michael met Jeremy and Fritz, the two would ask why he seemed to hate the fox so adamantly. The answer was simple.

"Foxy caused the bite of '83."

o0o

Afton Robotics, Michael decided, did not have a good work environment. No matter the so-called 'pros' they would try and offer, and boy did they offer.

Complimentary baskets of Exotic Butters, the knowledge of what really happened to his little sister, a chance to find his missing roommate, free pizza- all very tempting. But learning the extent of what his father had done? Seeing the results of his dark and twisted 'inspiration'? Learning the truth of what had actually happened to those he loved? Sometimes Michael wondered if it was all worth it.

But, as he peeled himself off of the floor of the Scooping Room, barely a sliver of consciousness left in his mind as the wires moved him without his violation, he knew it would have to be.

o0o

Consciousness was very rare for Michael while the... thing, inside of him was in control. On occasion, he would catch a sliver of what was happening around him, but that was all it was, a sliver.

Until one day, that is, when he was suddenly given back control. The thing inside of his shooting out in a mass that left his mouth with the taste of iron and his insides burning dully. He tried to open his eyes to see what had happened, and for once his body complied.

He was lying on the sidewalk, body crumpled in a position that should've been extremely uncomfortable had he not been at least somewhat dead. He looked up slightly, body weak, and met multiple pairs of eyes staring back at him from the sewers. Their eyes lit up with an eerie glow and the voice that had been guiding him to his ultimate demise whispered quietly, "You won't die..."  Michael's gaze sharpened.

The thing said nothing more as he stood shakingly, maintaining eye contact with it the entire time, but as it slunk back into the darkness the message was clear. They would be meeting again, and Michael would be damned if he went down so easily a second time.

o0o

Michael should be long gone by now. The fire station would arrive any moment now, and while the police were anything but useful when it came to recognizing the usual misconducts at Freddy's, sitting parked in front of a charred Fazbear's Fright hours after his shift ended might be too suspicious for even them to ignore.

Despite this, he was frozen in the front seat, eye glued to the book in his hands. Alone, it probably wouldn't have stood out too much. The book already had a darker undertone, so it wouldn't have stood out too much compared to the rest, but he'd seen the words change with his own eyes. Fulfillment and purpose warping into 'I can't see' and 'I'm scared' hardly seconds apart from one another. He' d been prepared to trash the book the moment he got back to his apartment, only having pulled it out again to pass the time before he would personally burn his father's sins to the ground.

Marking the 'incident' down in the log book had been a split decision, some kind of poetic sense of justice after countless lives were written off in the same manner.

Flipping back through the logbook, he felt his heart sink as he found another bit of altered text. He flipped another few pages back and- the paper wrinkled in his hands as he stared down at the faded writing on the page in front of him, the familiar image of Fredbear's plush counterpart pointing up at him with one of its stuffed paws. 'DOES HE STILL TALK TO YOU?' the writing asked. Michael was silent for a moment, staring down at the page again with unblinking eyes as if the message would disappear if he dared to close them. The message hadn't always been there, Michael had stared at the bear for hours the first time he'd read it, he couldn't possibly have missed it. "So who the hell-" Ennard. Michael set his jaw, if this was real and he wasn't having some sort of break down then it had to have been Ennard. No one else could have possibly gotten a hold of the damn thing, even Fritz and Jeremy had never so much as touched it without his permission.

He turned the ignition, the car rumbling to life as went to close the book- he froze. Mind stuttering to a halt as the words above the message began to change again into one singular repeated phrase.

"It's me."

...

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

o0o

He banged on the door with all his might, clawing at the edges in a futile attempt to pry it open. The fire was already lapping at his heels, scorching his feet as the smoke clogged what was left of his lungs.

Henry was still droning on over the intercoms, his voice barely audible over the sound of the chaos around them. From the screeching of bending metal to the staticky cries of the animatronics trapped inside it was impossible to hear much of anything. The intercoms faintly clicked as Henry finished his speech, voice strained from the smoke. There was more banging from farther away and he briefly wondered what would get the man first, the fire he'd lit or those he'd tried to trap inside it.

The door in front of him screeched, opening slightly as he tugged it back. He could see people at the exit of the building, one ramming their body into the doors repeatedly with another hanging onto their shoulders limply. "MICHAEL!" he screamed, and the limp one lifted their head slightly, eyes glinting in the flames behind the white bear mask covering their face. He met Michael's eyes, reaching out an arm to the man. The one carrying him finally broke through the door and a small white and purple bear rushed into the building, grabbing onto Michael's pant leg and tugging it roughly as it tried to rush them out. It looked over to him when it noticed Michael's gaze and it stiffened when it saw him, frozen in place even as the last remaining figure tried to drag them both out the door.

"MICHAEL!" he yelled again...

Michael took a step towards the door, breaking eye contact as he grabbed the bear's arm and tugged it along with him. The trio fled from the flaming building without a single look back, and William burned with freedom just in sight.