Chapter Text
He wasn't supposed to be here, he knew that for a fact. He was supposed to be dead, but he wasn't. To be fair, this wouldn't be the first time, but it didn't make him feel any better about it.
Michael was sick and tired of being stuck in a Freddy Fazbear's location. While he didn't know exactly if that was the case here, the room he was in wasn't giving him any details on that front, but he felt in his bones, he was back.
When his father said he 'always comes back', Michael didn't realize that he would be roped into his bullshit too.
He slowly stood up, his body screaming in pain, before finally standing. He forgot how painful simply existing was. Ignoring his own pain, he reached his scarred, purpled, greyish hand towards the doorknob, slowly exiting the room he was in, his entire body protesting violently. A body like his surely wasn't meant to move, but nothing about Michael Afton worked the way a normal person would, and so he ignored the pain, trying to figure out something about the strange circumstances he was in.
Wandering around a bit, Michael noticed the general levels of decay (water stains dripping down the moldy and cracking, peeling walls, marks along the walls that almost looked like something from a fire), quickly realizing he was somewhere deep underground. Looking around a bit more, he found his way to some stairs, quickly going up them, not really caring if they fell out underneath him due to their decay. It's not like he could die, and any injuries he got from falling would be nothing compared to being scooped. Or vomiting wires and other animatronic parts out of him. Or burning alive.
Finally making his way up the tall, twisting stairs, he made it somewhere that seemed newer, though he was still underground. As soon as he stepped off of the stairs, they crumpled, and fell one after the other, almost like dominos.
Well, there was no going back down there, he thought, before shrugging. He wasn't trying to investigate anything here. He was trying to find wherever the hell his father was, kill that bastard yet again, and finally fucking rest.
Wandering around some more, he found another flight of stairs, Michael sighed before slowly making his way up them. He figured William would be somewhere up there, hiding, scheming where he could see the kids he so frequently killed.
Making his way up the stairs, he entered a large room. Michael blinked, slightly confused by all of the bright, neon purple lights that flooded his vision. There was a giant, golden Freddy Fazbear statue, and Michael scrunched up his nose at the sight. Who the hell decided that this franchise would be a good thing to bring back? Did no one care about the obvious history of the place? Did no one but him realize how only pain and suffering followed the franchise?
Still wandering around the area, Michael was violently pulled out of his train of thoughts by…
"Evan?"
Michael was frozen, watching the child talking with… a weird version of what Michael had to assume was Freddy. How was Evan here? He was dead. Michael had watched him die, had felt the blood flow down his hands. How was he alive?
"Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!" Michael laughed as his brother thrashed around in his arms. The big baby couldn't even handle being in the restaurant. Michael slowly lifted his brother up towards Fredbear, making eye contact with him only long enough to see the fear and betrayal in his eyes. Michael laughed again, holding Evan in the Fredbear head.
He was only supposed to leave Evan there for a second before pulling him out, but in the couple seconds that Michael was holding him there as he thrashed around, his tears hitting the animatronics teeth, (why did the animatronic have teeth like that? Why were they so sharp?) Fredbear suddenly shuddered, the teeth clamping. Evan had stopped moving.
Michael felt something wet splatter on his face, not fully processing what happened. He touched his face, still laughing a bit before his laughter stopped at the sight of blood on his hands. His friends continued to laugh, not realizing what had happened yet.
Something dark and crimson slowly dripped from Fredbear's mouth, as the animatronic started moving again, continuing his song as if nothing had happened, not caring about the child in its mouth. There were weird grey bits stuck in the teeth.
"Evan?" Michael whispered. He was praying that his brother was pranking him, getting back at him for all the times he had scared him with the damned Foxy mask.
The rest of the patrons had noticed something was wrong. He heard footsteps approaching them, the only sound Michael could hear besides his beating heart. For once, he didn't care about his father's footsteps growing closer. He pulled his brother away from Fredbear. His face was completely obscured by blood. Michael set him on the ground, trying to clear the blood, but it wasn't working. His hands were already covered in the gushing liquid.
"Evan. Evan please, answer me. Evan, I swear to god, Evan get up." Michael pleaded, his breath panting as he started getting frantic. He could barely hear his friends telling his father that it wasn't their fault through the static in his head.
They were right, of course. It wasn't their fault.
It was his fault.
It was all Michael's fault.