The Fall of the Aftons

176: Michael Afton

Many months passed. Michael was almost fully healed and now lived on his own in the old Afton house.

He barely spent any time there nowadays, though.

He had to close down Circus Baby's Pizza World before any of the animatronics could kill anyone else. And ever since, there's been a lot more work for him to do at Fredbear's and Fazbear's. He spent the majority of his hours working at the two locations—and when he wasn't working, he was typically on the roof of the abandoned Pizza World, sitting on the edge as he either smoked a cigarette or drank one of the many alcoholic drinks William left behind when he died. Every night, he eventually passed out from either exhaustion or drunkenness, so Helpy would call Mister Fitzgerald. Mister Fitzgerald would always take him home and care for him, making sure he didn't get too sick from alcohol consumption, and the next morning, he would go back to work. The loop was rarely broken.

"Mike?" Helpy's voice asked, startling Michael out of his working stupor. "May I please talk to you?"

"Um... Yeah, sure," he mumbled, not really paying any attention. "What do you want to talk about?"

"We need to talk about your recent coping mechanisms."

He froze, refusing to look up at Helpy. I don't want to talk about this.

"You froze. You know that what you've been doing isn't healthy. Don't you?" Helpy asked.

"It doesn't matter. No one cares."

"I care."

"That's just because you're programmed to care," he muttered,

"Mister Wright cares. Mister Fitzgerald cares. Felicity cares."

"Okay, fine—I don't care."

"Why not?"

"Helpy, I don't know if Noah ever told you this, but I'm the reason why both of my families are dead," he explained, growing agitated. "I should be in fucking prison for the rest of my life, but no—I'm in charge of my adoptive father's children death traps as I desperately try to mend the irreparable damage left behind by the unintelligible amount of crimes he committed."

"You're not the reason why your families died."

"Bullshit," he said with a scoff.

"Your birth mother died of natural causes. As did your birth father. Your older brother was killed by a drunk driver. Your twin was kidnapped and assumedly murdered by a well-known serial killer. Terrance made a foolish mistake that resulted in his death. You were forced into killing Evan. William killed himself after he killed those kids. And Elizabeth failed to listen to the instructions that would've kept her safe."

"Jeez, you really were created by Noah," he muttered, holding his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the table.

"With Mister Emily's help, yes," Helpy said cheerfully.

He paused, looking at the minitronic in confusion. "But Henry is..."

"Dead?" Helpy completed. "Yes, I'm aware. Noah had to finish making me on his own. Thankfully, the things you taught him about the animatronics stuck and he was able to successfully complete me by himself.

"How long did it take for them to make you?" he asked softly, curious.

"About two years. According to Mister Emily, Noah came up with the idea to build me shortly after your father's death."

"Wow... He actually loved me," he murmured, looking away. "I don't know why, but I often doubted that he did. But two years he spent to make you? He must've really loved me if he spent two years working on you."

Helpy laughed softly. "Yes. Noah loved you very much."

"That means you actually want to help me. Don't you?" he asked quietly.

"It is in my name, Sir."