Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s nearly eleven at night when Jeremy feels it, that subtle shift in the air. The next group of kids had finally arrived.

He glances over at Michael, head down on the desk in a way that surely wasn’t comfortable and snoring softly in his sleep, watching as he shivers and lets out a low grumble as the feeling hits him, too. Last night had been particularly rough for a Tuesday, with the rotation being more aggressive than usual. Jeremy had had a migraine, and Michael had offered to take the entire night by himself. It turns out that the Scraps had come out to play, and poor Mike had looked like death warmed over by the time he woke Jeremy up. It was always like that when his family was lurking around, though. He’d been wired for most of the day, trying to come off that prolonged adrenaline, and finally crashed for good an hour or two ago.

He hesitates for a moment on whether or not to wake Michael up to come with him and find the kids, but eventually reasons that the task shouldn’t run over into the night shift. It is strange, though, that this group was showing up so late into the day. Generally, they would appear early in the morning, right as the night shift ended, and had time to acclimate to the new environment and the guards. By now, the cobbled-together memory of the pizzeria was almost completely dark, with only the stage, kitchen, and main dining area being dimly lit. The cooks and cleaning staff were always the ones left after closing, so their lights stayed on ‘til midnight. He hopes the kids aren’t too freaked out by it.

He turns out of the left corridor and walks down the main hall, checking inside each room as he passes. Party rooms? Empty. Parts and Service? No. Arcade? Surprisingly, no. Usually, the kids flock to the arcade and the prize corner the second they’re able to look around. He can’t blame them, of course, the arcade is where he and Mike tend to kill time too.

It’s when he reaches the end of the hall that he stops short. Staring at the gaggle of kids that are scattered around the dining room, Jeremy doesn’t know how to feel.

He and Michael had worked through the last group a few weeks ago at this point, had sent them off to finally join their loved ones in the true afterlife, and it had been radio silence since then. Usually, the Old Man would warn them a few days ahead of the next group’s arrival so that he and Michael had time to prepare. It used to be easier with the other guards here, too, but they had all come later in the timeline and had moved on when their Missing Children had. Jeremy was supposed to have moved on, but he was stubborn. Mike hadn’t gotten to move on once they passed his death date, which just wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t leave Michael to deal with ‘85 or ‘83 on his own.

The kids don’t notice him at first—even if they did, he doubts they would recognize him as anything beyond a security guard. But he knows all of them. Every single one of their young, innocent faces has been seared into his mind for decades at this point. They’re finally back to 1985, the first incident. He names them all off in his head as he scans the area.

Susanna ‘Susie’ Wright. Curly blonde hair done up in ringlets and wearing the same bubblegum pink dress her parents had reported her missing in. Ten years old.

Frederick ‘Fritz’ Wright, Susie’s younger brother. Ginger hair, a splattering of freckles, and sporting a little white polo shirt and light brown shorts. Seven years old, and the youngest of the group.

Gabriel Peterson. Messy brown hair, wearing an orange striped shirt and faded jeans, missing his upper left canine with an otherwise bright smile. Nine (and a half, his parents had stressed) years old.

Jeremy Mendoza. Medium-length curls with a faded undercut, a beauty mark under his right eye, wearing a light blue t-shirt and paint-splattered black jeans. Nine years old.

Cassidy Nguyen. Jet-black hair in pigtails, black denim overalls layered over a bright yellow shirt, wrists covered in bracelets. Nine-turning-ten years old, the birthday girl.

Those five, he was expecting to see. The other three, not so much.

Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Emily. Long, almost ashy black hair, found in the back alley in a denim jacket, a faded AC/DC shirt, and blue jeans. A chunky green bracelet around her wrist. Twelve-turning-thirteen years old. William Afton’s first victim. 

Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Afton, Mike’s younger sister and Evan’s twin. Rusty orange hair in pigtails, with a bright red bow clipped at the back. Pink collared shirt, blue skirt, black dress shoes. Thirteen years old. Michael will be relieved to know that she’s here—they’d both been worried when she hadn’t appeared with the other Funtimes.

Evan Afton, Mike’s younger brother and Lizzie’s twin. Light brown hair, large eyes, wearing a grey striped shirt and blue shorts. Always has a yellow Fredbear plush with him. Ten-turning-eleven years old.

It takes him a long moment to come to terms with the fact that this will be the last group. After this, he and Michael will be able to rest for good. No more pain, no more suffering, no more silver in their veins and anger in their hearts. It’s odd that the three kids from 1983 are here, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’ll have to thank the Old Man the next time he visits.

The room is filled with hushed talking, and Jeremy is loath to break it up. The children seemed unsettled, but they had been quickly distracted by the fact that they felt alive again. It happens with every group, and frankly, he can’t blame them. He and Michael had been overwhelmed by their restored bodies—Mike spent a solid ten minutes giddy with joy over the fact that he could feel his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and Jeremy himself had taken a while to look around their new world with his full vision finally back and no constantly debilitating headaches or mood swings. It had been too much in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how it must be after being trapped inside stiff, unyielding metal for decades.

Still, it’s getting late, and he doesn’t want them out in the open once the night shift starts. The first night with each new group was always rough as the animatronics they’d haunted were on the prowl, aggression cranked to the max. He and Michael had figured out the hard way that the behavior of the animatronics that stalk the halls is based on their perception of them. They’d never in a million years expect the core four, Goldie, or the Puppet to harm a child back when they were alive, but they did go after adults. To Jeremy and Michael, every animatronic they’d ever seen was a bloodthirsty monster that promised a slow, agonizing death, and that perception carried over into their little Remnant waiting room. Plus, with Evan and Elizabeth here, that meant Nightmare and Circus Baby would be out, one designed to endlessly torture their victim and the other to outright kill. 

Charlie is the first to notice him when he steps into the dim light of the room, and she silences everyone with a hauntingly familiar, “Shh.” Decades later, he still remembers the way that the Puppet would shush him as its arms wrapped themselves around his throat, so close to crushing his windpipe, saved by the time change more than once. Her eyes are a bright, caustic green as she sizes him up, putting the pieces together almost instantly. She greets him with a cold, “Dayguard.”

Jeremy smiles as warmly as he can at them before glancing down at his watch. 11:40. He’d spent far too long checking the other rooms. Trying not to let his nerves show, he responds with a cheerful, “Hello! My name’s Jeremy, Jeremy Fitzgerald, and I’m one of the guards here. Now, I’m sure you all have questions, and I’ll be more than happy to answer them in a minute, but we need to get moving. The night shift is about to start, and you all need to be in Security when that happens and the animatronics start moving around.” He pauses, quickly unclipping his taser from his belt and tossing it towards Charlie, as she seems to be the designated leader. Check the watch. 11:42. “Think of that as extra insurance, yeah? I know it’s probably really scary, especially considering your past, but the animatronics here are dangerous. The other guard and I will keep you safe, I just need you all to follow—”

And then Charlie tasers him. Jeremy collapses to the floor instantly as his muscles spasm uncontrollably, and he hears each of the kids run off in different directions. A few of them scamper past him, and he manages to snag one’s ankle and keep them there. By the voice, it’s one of the boys, though he isn’t sure who. All he knows is that he tells the others to keep running. With his other hand, Jeremy rips out the barbs and staggers to his feet, quickly changing his grip to the boy’s upper arm instead. The only other one left is Charlie, who stares at him in shock as if she hadn’t expected the taser to work. Taking advantage of her stunned state, he grabs her by the elbow and all but drags the two towards Security. Check the watch. 11:47.

Usually, he’d have more patience. Usually, he’d have more time to build up at least a little bit of trust with the kids before midnight came. Usually, he’d be more careful about his words. Tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight, there are eight terrified children in immediate danger, and six of them are God knows where at this point. Tonight, he’d been tased for no reason.

Needless to say, his stress levels were reaching new extremes by the second, and he desperately hoped that it wasn’t making his death wound show. The poor kids are already scared enough. He makes it to the corner of the right hall before he screams, “Michael! Wake up!”

A flashlight beam cuts its way down the corridor within fifteen seconds, perks of having a boyfriend who sleeps lightly. Michael races down to him, only to stop short at the sight of the two children. Jeremy watches as his boyfriend checks his watch and pales. “How many are there?”

Without missing a beat, Jeremy replies, “Eight total, six missing. Your siblings are here.”

Check the watch. 11:50.

Michael crouches down to get at eye level with Charlie. “Charlie, hey, it’s me. It’s Mike. Do you remember me?” The girl nods, still shaken. “I know you’re scared, but your friends are in danger. Jeremy and I need to go find them. You and your friend Gabriel here have to stay in Security, and I’m going to need you to focus. In the office, there’s going to be a spare flashlight and a camera setup. Right now, it’ll only be Freddy and the Puppet actively going for the office. Freddy comes to the right door, and the Puppet needs the music box wound. Whenever we find one of your friends, we’ll bring them back to the office, and then I need you to protect them. We’ll explain how each of the animatronics works when your friend gets there. Once midnight hits, you need to stay there.”

Charlie nods again, takes Gabriel’s hand, and bolts to the office. Michael turns back to him, tablet already out and ready to start searching. “You take Bonnie, Foxy, and Chica, and then stay back to man the office. I know Goldie, Nightmare, and Baby better.”

Jeremy sighs as they both check their watches one last time. 11:55. 

Showtime.

Chapter Text

“Lottie, slow down! You’re gonna break my arm!”

Gabriel was getting sick and tired of people pulling him everywhere; he was perfectly capable of walking on his own! First, it was that stupid nightguard, but at least he had the courtesy to drag him along without trying to dislocate his shoulder. 

As always, when she gets into a protective mood, Charlie completely ignores him, too worried about getting him to safety. Gabriel rolls his eyes and picks up the pace. The sooner they get into that dumb office, the sooner Charlie will explain what the hell is going on.

The office is an average size—much bigger than the one in the ‘93 location but smaller than the one in ‘87. Two large, double-door lockers lined the back wall, each one big enough to fit in a few people if they tried, and a couple more single-door lockers were scattered around the room. He opens the closest locker, and sure enough, the only full shelf is the one at the very top. So they were hiding spots…interesting.

Directly in front of the back lockers is a frankly comically large metal desk, at least in his eyes. Sitting on its surface were four monitors, three making a little pyramid on the right side and one all on its own in the center. Charlie was already sitting in one of the nearby rolling chairs, and Gabriel watched as she messed with a tablet and adjusted the cameras on the center monitor. Taking a closer look at the stacked monitors reveals that the bottom two are displaying maps of the building—one for ducts and one for vents—and the top one displays a meter for noise levels, a fluctuating temperature reading, and a percentage showing the building’s power. There’s also an alarm clock that sits on the left side of the desk alongside two flashlights. Gabriel snags one, and his eyes widen as he realizes how heavy it is. A hit from it to the back of the head could do some serious damage. If he were able to convince Charlie to sneak up on one of the guards, they’d probably get concussed, and then he and his friends could escape this place.

The rest of the room is generally uninteresting. There’s a door and a duct on the left and right walls, and a vent towards the top of the front wall. Along the front wall is a counter covered in old plates and cups, blueprints, board games, and a few decks of playing cards. A coffee pot sits to one side, still full. Half of the counter displays dozens of small, framed photos—some of the people are vaguely familiar to him, but he can’t quite place where. A handful of cardboard boxes litter the floor, overflowing with old parts and merchandise: masks, toys, plushies, animatronic shells, and various bits and bobs that he doesn’t recognize at all. 

Satisfied for now with his inspection of the office, he pointedly clears his throat. Charlie looks up in confusion, which quickly turns into sheepishness. He raises an eyebrow at her, wholly unimpressed. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you gonna make me guess for myself?”

Gently, the older girl places the tablet down with a sigh. “I don’t know where to start. I’m not really sure what’s happening either, to be fair.”

“Why don’t we start with the Afton clone?”

Charlie snickers for a moment before she quickly sobers up. “You shouldn’t call him that. Having that face got him into a lot of bad situations.” A small smile stretches across her face, full of a fondness that Gabriel had only ever seen directed at the other kids and Mr. Emily. “That’s Michael, he’s the oldest Afton sibling. He was my best friend when I was alive, and we were practically attached at the hip. The only person closer to me was my brother, Sammy.”

Gabriel fights off the immediate gut reaction that this Michael guy was bad news since it wasn’t fair to dislike someone just because of their family. Evan and Lizzie were both nice, even though they were Aftons. Except…”Didn’t he kill Evan?”

Almost instantly, Charlie bristles. “It was an accident!” He flinches at her tone, and she calms down considerably. “I saw it happen. The day before, William tampered with Fredbear. Plenty of kids had gotten up close and personal with the suits before. I doubt they could’ve done that sort of damage when they were acting as animatronics—there’s no reason to make their jaws that strong; it would just make the suits harder to perform in.” She looked directly into his eyes, and it’s been a long time since he’d seen her look so serious. “I don’t know if either of them knows about it. What Mike did was wrong, but as far as he knew, the suits were safe. Evan forgave him, and that’s what matters. Don’t…just don’t bring it up, okay?”

He considers her words carefully before nodding. “As long as you trust him, I will, too. For now.”

“Thank you. As for where we are, I couldn’t tell you. The last thing I remember is a fire, my father’s voice, and then silence. I don’t know how long it’s been since I was last awake.”

Gabriel hums, uncertain, wandering to the right door and glancing down the hallway. “That’s basically what I remember, too—our happiest day, and then nothing.”

The alarm clock beeps, interrupting them both. 12:00 am blinks back at them in bright red lights, and the room suddenly dims. Ever so quietly, Gabriel hears the song from the Puppet’s music box float down the hallway and echo through the cameras. Ninety years without slumbering, tick-tock, tick-tock…

Freddy’s deep, booming laugh startles both of them, and a cold sweat overcomes him. He’s not looking forward to getting a taste of his own medicine. Hopefully, the guards get back soon.

= = =

Susie is the first to be found, cowering in fear underneath one of the prep tables in the kitchen, and Jeremy laments for a moment about how obvious it should’ve been that she was there. She has a nasty bruise forming on her left forearm in the shape of an animatronic’s hand, and he can assume that it’s from Chica. The animatronic has been messing around in the kitchen, leaving the girl trapped. 

He flounders, trying to think of any way to grab the kid’s attention, but the girl looks up when she hears his clothes shift. His heart breaks as he watches the terror on her face double, looking between him and the animatronic like she’s trying to decide who she’d rather die to. Susie’s eyes eventually settle on him, wide and watery, and Jeremy does his best to give her a comforting smile.

The pattern that Chica is following is honestly rather interesting, once he turns his attention towards it. It’s a perfect loop that she stalks, starting each round at the door where Jeremy is crouched and peeking around the corner. Then, she moves to the stoves, walking right past Susie’s hiding spot as she does, and starts messing with the pots and pans. After she’s done with that, she moves back towards the freezer and then over to the sinks before passing in front of Jeremy again.

Once Chica is standing in front of the freezer, Jeremy points to Chica and then to the stove, motioning for the girl to wait. Neither of them dares to breathe as the animatronic passes, each heavy metallic step a grim reminder of what will happen if they mess up.

The clank of cookware hitting the stove is the perfect cover for Susie’s footsteps, and as soon as the noise begins, Jeremy holds a finger up to his lips. Be quiet.

Susie nods, still terrified out of her mind, but Jeremy’s eyes have already moved to the animatronic. As Chica picks up a stock pot, he waves the girl over, and the near-silent click-clack of tiny dress shoes is his only sign that she’s moving closer.

Soon enough, she stumbles close enough for him to pull her out of the kitchen and into his arms. The poor girl is trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he can barely make out the sound of hitched, shaky breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s alright,” he soothes as best he can. “I need to get you back to Security so that I can go help the rest of your friends, okay? It’s safe there.”

The girl nods, blue eyes wide with fright as she stands and clutches onto Jeremy’s hand. With a quiet sniffle, she whispers, “What’s going on? Why did Chica hurt me?”

Jeremy peers down the hall, thankfully not seeing anything wandering around. “It’s…complicated. Michael and I can explain it better when you’re all safe.”

“Who’s Michael?”

He couldn’t fight down the small, fond smile that crossed his face for a split second. “He’s the other guard. He’s a little scary-looking sometimes, but he’s really nice. He’s out looking for your friends, too.”

Susie hums, unsure, but by the time she goes to speak again, they’ve traveled the short distance from the kitchen to the office. A bit of tenseness leaks out of Jeremy’s shoulders when he sees that Charlie and Gabriel are holding up all right. Charlie is manning the cameras—and wow, she’s latched onto a specific rotation. Jeremy hates that he can tell which cameras she’s switching between with barely a glance over her shoulder, and he bites back a laugh when he realizes that it’s nearly identical to the one Michael follows. Gabriel is posted up by the right door, peering down the hall every so often. Susie runs over to Charlie, who pulls her into a side hug while keeping her eyes on the cams. 

Turning to Gabriel, Jeremy asks, “How are things going?”

The boy looks down the corridor as much as he can, and when he doesn’t spot anything, he answers with, “Saw Freddy twice, but that’s it.”

Checking his watch reveals that it’s only 12:30, and Jeremy frowns. That’s unusually aggressive, even within the context of it being the first night with this new group. It’s manageable—he and Michael are going to make it manageable, even if one of them gets hurt for it, because there’s no way in hell that another child is getting seriously injured on their watch. He just can’t let the kids know that tonight is almost certainly going to end up with one of the guards getting maimed. “Okay, that’s okay. Charlie, anything on the cameras?”

Charlie looks up at him for all of half a second before her eyes dart back down to the screens. “I definitely saw Bonnie near the stage, just kind of standing there, and I think Foxy is in the Cove? There were glowing eyes looking outside the curtain, but I couldn’t make out anything else. The music box is all good, though.” 

“Pirate’s Cove and the Main Stage, got it.”

She looks at him thoughtfully, chewing hesitantly on her lip before tacking on, “Our Jeremy is really good at hiding, and he’s gonna be too nervous to come out to you because we didn’t know if you were safe. When we were together, most of us had nicknames that only we knew, and if you know them, he might be more willing to trust you?” She glances over at the other two children in the room, and after a silent conversation between them, Susie and Gabriel nod. “He goes by Remy. Tell him…tell him that Lottie’s really worried, okay? And that Brie and Anna are waiting for him.”

He smiles at her gratefully. It had hurt a bit, how scared all of the kids were, but he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Charlie. Now, there’s a button on the camera display that says ‘change music’, should be on the kitchen cam. I need you to hit it.” She does, and Jeremy sighs in relief as the clattering of pots and pans fills the room. “That’s Chica, she mostly keeps to herself in the kitchen. Susie, your job is to remind Charlie to change the music again the second that you can’t hear Chica anymore. It’s the only thing that keeps her pacified.”

The poor girl still looks terrified out of her mind, but there’s a glint of steely determination, too. It soothes his nerves enough that he heads out of the office again without any worries for their safety. Handling three animatronics is a cakewalk in most circumstances, even with their aggression so high. Still, it’ll get bad by the time they have to deal with five of them, and all eight could turn into a right mess. 

= = =

Meanwhile, Michael is losing his mind trying to break into the Saferoom because someone fucking barricaded it. Something is blocking the doorknob, and he’s positive that he’ll wake up with a huge bruise on his shoulder from trying to open it by force. He knew reopening the damn thing was a bad idea! Curse his stupid sentimental ass for wanting to create a proper memorial, now a kid was in danger!

The worst part is that he’s not sure whether or not the kid knows that Goldie is dangerous. Cassidy knew that it was just an empty suit, and she had never been able to make it move, but it didn’t need to move to hurt someone. It has a way of drawing people in, catching their eye, and luring them closer. Once they’re looking at it, they’re stuck, and the next thing they know, they’re reaching for it, reaching inside because something—someone—is calling them, and its springlocks trigger. He can only hope that Cassidy is strong enough to try and fight it, to understand that it’s going to hurt her.

His mind races as he tries to think of any other way into the room before something clicks. 

There has always been a ventilation shaft that led into the saferoom, but it had never been a viable option because it, too, had been sealed off. Michael, however, remembered a time when it was open and knew exactly where to go to get to the vent he needed. 

Without another thought, he sprints down the right hall and bursts into Security like a madman. Part of him feels awful when one of the kids screams, but he needs to get into the vents, and this is the best option for it. Charlie shouts out, “Mike, what the hell—” before he unceremoniously pushes the rolling chair she’s on out of the way of the desk, snatches his screwdriver from the drawer, scrambles over to the counter up against the front wall, and climbs straight up into the vent.

The path comes to Michael instantly, and he desperately tries to ignore the looming feeling of dread that always comes with being in tight spaces. Go straight past the first junction that leads to the supply closet. Take the next right to go through the kitchen, and follow the path. There is nothing in the vents right now, nothing is grabbing at his heels. The feeling isn’t real. Left, then right. Crawl through the boy’s bathroom and then the girl’s bathroom. Go straight, ignore the left turn that leads back to the Main Stage. There is a thick piece of sheet metal screwed down. Pretend not to hear as something kicks the vent right next to his head. These vents are in the ceiling, so there isn’t anything there. Unscrew the cover, push it over, and pick it up. Place it in the left vent and go forward. Remove the next cover you encounter, and jump down.

He lands in the saferoom soundlessly, taking extra care to avoid hitting any of the picture frames on the counter underneath the vent. Cassidy hovers a little over three feet away from Goldie, and he can tell that she’s struggling against it. It’s already wildly impressive that she’d managed to hold out for, what, forty minutes? That’s the longest that Michael thinks he’s ever seen someone resist it. Her eyes don’t leave the suit, even as she notices that he’s in there and flinches away from him.

Michael approaches slowly, and she yells, “Stay away from me!”

He takes a deep breath, fighting to keep his eyes on her. “It’s going to be okay, kid. I need you to try closing your eyes.” Cassidy inches forward against her will. “Goldie’s springlocks are wound up, and if you touch it, it’s going to cause a failure.”

Uncertainty floods her expression, and she whispers, “I…I can’t look away. I can’t move.”

Michael’s head tries to jerk towards the suit, and he barely keeps it in place. He forces himself to step closer to her, away from Goldie. “That’s fine, I can help you. The longer you look at it, the harder it is to look away.” He’s worked with scared children before, and he knows that the best way to keep them calm is to explain what you’re doing. Cassidy stumbles closer to the suit. “I’m going to come over and turn you around, and then let you go. I need you to cover your eyes once I do, and I’ll unblock the door. Once you hear the door open, you can walk straight forward out of the room. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cassidy nods even as she grits out, “Try anything and I’ll end you, brother-killer.”

He moves toward her as quickly as he can without freaking her out and starts getting her to turn. It takes a minute, but eventually he manages to break her out enough that she turns the rest of the way herself. Surprisingly, she listens to him and buries her face in her hands. Michael had honestly expected a lot more resistance, considering the little that he knew about the girl. Mostly, it was stuff that Old Man Consequences had told him. Untrusting. Vengeful. Running herself into the ground. Hopefully, she’ll be able to heal here. 

Turning his attention to the barricade she’d made to keep him out, he’s honestly a little impressed. The kid had managed to move one of the giant shelving units back here to the other side of the room, heavy enough to keep the door closed and with one of the shelves at the perfect height to keep the handle from moving. Michael makes quick work of it, pushing it off to the side. The door creaks as it opens, and Cassidy immediately walks outside.

He takes one last look behind him, not shocked to find that Goldie’s vanished. The walk back to Security is silent aside from their footsteps, and thankfully, the girl relaxes at the sight of her friends still alive. Without any preamble, he dumps the information they’ll need to fend off Goldie in choppy, stilted words. “Goldie appears at random. When it does, close your eyes. The longer you stare, the better chance it has to hurt you. It’ll vanish if nobody is looking at it. Cassidy, you have the best chance to break out of Goldie’s grasp, so you’ll need to be the one looking for it at all times.” 

The girl sneers at him, and wow, if he wasn’t so used to it, it might have hurt his feelings. Luckily for him (and unluckily for Cassidy), he’s had decades of practice with people looking at him that way. At this point, he just kind of wished that they would switch things up a bit.

Four safe, four in danger. He checks his watch. 12:50. No time for small talk. “Tell Jeremy that I’m going after Baby. I’ll be back soon.”

Michael walks out without saying goodbye, already lost in his mind and trying to figure out where Circus Baby could be. The children stare as he goes.

Chapter Text

Jeremy heads to the main stage next, keeping an ear out for the other children all the while. He’d had to hide inside the supply closet to avoid Chica once, but other than that, he’d had no problems so far.

When he catches sight of Bonnie, he’s…confused. The stupid thing was standing perfectly still, waiting for something. Shining his flashlight on it didn’t get it to move away from its spot, and neither did shouting at it. The kid was in this room, and Bonnie knew where he was. He racks his brain for every hiding spot he can think of, keeping his eyes firmly on Bonnie in case he starts moving.

Slowly and methodically, he checks under each table. There are a couple of dust bunnies and a few sticky spots where the last group had spilled something and didn’t tell them, but no kid. Next, he searches underneath and around the check-in counter, but little Jeremy isn’t there either. 

Maybe the kid went backstage? It couldn’t hurt to check, even if getting that close to Bonnie made Jeremy nervous. It was uncanny, the way the animatronic was frozen, focused solely on staring down the stage area, moving its head ever so slightly to scan over the entire thing.

He makes his way through every cabinet in the backstage area, combs the place from top to bottom, and then climbs up onstage. From this angle, he can finally follow Bonnie’s line of sight, and his stomach drops as he sees the kid.

Little Jeremy is staring down at him from the trusses, wedged carefully between two of the light fixtures, and holy shit, how did he get up there? How was Jeremy supposed to get him back down?

Doing his best to steady his voice, he calls up, “Hey, you’re Remy, right?”

The boy’s eyes widened, still untrusting but very much surprised. His voice is so, so quiet as he asks, “Who told you that?”

“Lottie sent me. She’s really worried about you, kid. Are you hurt?”

Hesitantly, Remy shakes his head. “I’m okay. I-I climbed up here ‘cause Bonnie kept trying to grab me, and now I can’t get down. I’ve tried, and he always blocks the way out. Where’s Lottie?”

Thank God Charlie thought to tell him about their nicknames. It was smart of them to have a way to identify which people were safe and which people could be trusted to help them; evidently, it works. The kid had relaxed almost immediately upon hearing Charlie’s name. “She’s in Security with Brie and Anna. The other guard and I have been looking for you all. It’s not safe here at night.”

When Jeremy mentions the other two, Remy gasps. “Are they hurt?”

The guard smiles a bit at the question. It was good to know that this group was so tight-knit—they’d had issues in the past where not everyone in each incident was friendly with one another, especially the Funtimes. Those kids had been at one another’s throats for the entirety of the first week, and it was a nightmare trying to get them to play nice. “They’re okay, Remy. Anna had a little mishap with Chica, but it’s nothing serious. We need to figure out how to get you down from there, though. They’re all waiting for you, and I still need to go find Fritz.”

Remy pauses for a moment, thinking carefully before he asks, “What are we gonna do about Bonnie? I can climb back down, but it’s gonna be impossible to get past him.”

Right, Bonnie. Jeremy calls up, “Give me a second to think, alright? I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come down.”

Pushing down his nerves, he saunters up to the animatronic, who gives no indication that he’s even aware of Jeremy’s presence. It would’ve been easy to deal with if he’d taken his taser back, but he’d left it with the kids in the office just in case they weren’t quick enough to prevent an animatronic from entering. He’s not good enough with this era of the bots to know how to tamper with them, nor does he have the tools necessary, even if he did. Michael’s off looking for the other kids, which rules him out as a potential distraction. For some reason, Michael was the only person who took priority over the original inhabitants of the suits, and only when they were aware that he was there. With Bonnie like this, Jeremy isn’t sure Michael could pull the rabbit’s attention away from the kid.

There had to be a solution, there just had to be. God, what would Michael do? Something stupid, something that should be obvious. It would be something that Jeremy would think of only for Michael to immediately dismiss because it was ridiculous, and there was no way in hell that it would ever work…

He has to stifle a laugh as an image comes into his head unbidden. It had to have been a little over a year ago at this point, right before the ‘87 kids got there. Freddy had been camping their door, rapidly draining power, and Mike lost his cool. Jeremy could only watch in horror as Michael stomped over to the door, punched the button, and full-body tackled Freddy like a goddamn maniac. Apparently, Michael was familiar enough with the bots to know the weak spots in every endo, and the things they could and couldn’t do. Most issues were per generation, each improving on their past versions. The biggest exploitable flaw in the older crew was their inability to stand up when pushed over. They just weren’t sophisticated enough for it, not like the Toys or the Funtimes were, and nobody had ever thought to add that ability when they got refurbished.

He looks down at Bonnie, considering for a moment if he would be capable of pulling it off, and decides that he likes his chances. Calling up to the kid in the trusses, he says, “You’re gonna hear a really loud thud in a second, and then I need you to come down as fast as you can, alright?”

Remy gives him a thumbs up, already moving to climb down, and Jeremy does his best to channel the batshit-crazy energy of his partner as he runs straight for Bonnie. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Michael is such a bad influence. A heavy enough weight barreling into the animatronic’s shoulders from a slightly upward angle should push the top half far enough back that Bonnie will topple over, if Jeremy has the right momentum. Or, you know, maybe it won’t. He had failed physics in high school, no matter how much tutoring Mike had given him.

Jeremy rams straight into the animatronic, and wow, that’s going to bruise, but he’s too busy to register that fact. Instead, he’s focused on the fact that he’s careening towards the hard tile with a few hundred pounds’ worth of metal beneath him. The sound Bonnie makes when the two of them hit the floor is deafening, and Jeremy prays that the tile is still intact in the morning.

The kid, true to his word, is down from the trusses in an instant, rushing over to help the guard up. Jeremy checks him over quickly, just to make sure that Remy hasn’t hurt himself somehow, and part of him feels bad about how overwhelmed the kid seems. 

Remy looks down at Bonnie, who is struggling on the ground like a beetle on its back, and a tiny, half-hysterical giggle fills the air. Jeremy can’t help it when he starts snickering, too. A wheeze rips itself from his lungs, and then he’s fighting not to double over with nervous laughter.

A sudden pain stabs its way into his skull like an ice pick, his bite scar lighting up with white-hot agony, and he can feel tiny trickles of blood drip down his face as the old teeth marks split. The ring of scarring around his eye makes a sickening sound as it rips open, and he can feel the pain sink further and further into his skull with a sharp crack. He doesn’t quite manage to stifle the cry of pain that he makes, caught by surprise, and curls in on himself slightly. One hand comes up to cradle the side of his head, and the other quickly fists itself into his shirt. The stress was getting to him. He knows that it must startle the kid, going by the sharp gasp he hears, but Remy doesn’t stumble away from him. He gets closer, moving to the other side of the guard so that Jeremy can still see him, a worried expression etched into his far-too-young features. “Are you alright, mister?”

Jeremy goes to nod, only to groan as a wave of nausea hits the second his head starts moving. It takes a moment for him to pry his hand off his shirt, which he then holds out to the kid. A little hand slips into his, and he gently tugs Remy out of the dining area towards the main hall. “I’ll be okay, it’s not as bad as it probably looks.”

Remy frowns. “I really think you should sit down.”

The guard huffs, part frustration and part humor. “The best thing for me right now is getting you and your friends to safety. This,” he gestures to the part of his face that’s painted with his blood courtesy of the hand he’d been using to hide the severity from Remy, “is honestly no big deal. It hurts, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it could be. It’ll clear up on its own.”

A hint of exasperation must leak through into his tone, as Remy wisely decides not to push things any further. Jeremy knows he should probably feel bad about it, but he can’t currently bring himself to care. There were still others in danger, after all. Guilt is an issue for future Jeremy. 

During the short trip back to Security, the pair passes by Michael, who looks to be in a state of deep concentration. His eyes are closed tight, and he makes no indication that he notices or cares about their presence, only tilting his head in their direction to identify the noise before turning back towards the rest of the hall. Jeremy has to stifle a chuckle at the pure confusion on Remy’s face as the kid looks up at him like Michael is crazy. The only response he can give is a shrug. Mike was a character, for sure, but he was incredibly smart. His unorthodox ways of problem-solving often worked out, and so Jeremy had learned just to trust the process.

When they reach the office, the other kids are overjoyed to see their friend in one piece, and they quickly catch Remy up to speed. While they do that, Jeremy digs through one of the larger lockers in the room, snagging the cleanest rag he can find and wiping as much blood as possible off his face. The rough fabric passing over the wound creates a light stinging sensation that he uses to ground himself. 

Charlie splits off from the gaggle of kids, eyes wide with concern. “What happened? Did your scar split?”

He shoots her a tiny, genuine smile, doing his best not to let his worry show. “I’m alright, it barely hurts.” The way she looks at him tells him that she knows he’s lying—and she’s right, it’s a miracle that he’s holding himself together so well, even though it’s a pain that he’d grown accustomed to over time—but she’s too polite to call him out on it. “It’s just something that happens here.”

The girl’s face contorted into a frustrated glare before she caught herself. Charlie sighs and takes a moment to think over her words carefully. “Listen, I understand that we don’t have time for you to explain anything right now, but if this is something that can hurt my friends, I need to know.” Jeremy debates telling her, not wanting to dump a ton of extra responsibility onto her when she was already keeping everything in the office running smoothly, but he cracks when she whispers, “Please? I…I don’t want them to get hurt.”

Jeremy keeps his voice low, ensuring that none of the other children are eavesdropping, and he nods. “Okay, okay. The long and short of it is that the thing that we’re here because of is directly tied to emotions. When people are in their right minds, they can look the same as they were at any point they were alive. If they’re experiencing heightened emotions like fear, stress, or anger, they begin to look like themselves directly before their time of death. Mike and I technically work a bit differently, considering how we were exposed to Remnant versus just creating it like you kids did, but it’s the same principle. It takes a lot of stress for it to get to the point where you feel like you’re dying again, but it’s possible. You just need to make sure that everyone stays calm, and you won’t have to worry about this sort of thing.”

She studies his face for a moment, taking in every detail about the sluggishly bleeding mark, before something seems to click. “You’re the person that Mangle bit, aren’t you? We all thought you died.”

A small smirk grows on his face, sardonic and wry. “I did, in a way. Without exposure to Remnant, I would’ve been declared brain dead. The hospital considered my recovery a medical marvel, something that should’ve been impossible.”

Charlie nods slowly, and Jeremy can tell that she’s storing all of this in the back of her mind to deal with later. He’s seen the same look on her father’s face dozens of times, after all. It’s sweet, in a way, how much she acts like Henry even after all these years apart. His mood sours at the thought of the man, but he's careful not to let it show.

Deeming their little conversation over, Jeremy turns to the group at large. “Okay, everyone! One, two, three, eyes on me!” The room goes quiet, and he has to fight not to laugh. It works every time. “Is there anything important that happened while I was gone?”

Susie’s hand shoots up. “Michael told us to tell you that he was going after Baby, whoever that is.”

“Good to know, thank you Susie. That’s Elizabeth’s animatronic. Anything else?” When the others all shake their heads, he continues. “Okay, Bonnie is a little bit indisposed at the moment, but I doubt he’ll stay like that. He works similarly to Freddy, but he’s quick to lose interest. You’ll hear him knock once on the left door, and you can open it back up immediately afterwards. Remy, do you think you can guard that door for a bit?”

The boy looks to the door hesitantly, but seems to calm down a bit when Gabriel reassures him. “It’s super easy, Rem, I promise!”

“It’ll only be for a little while,” Jeremy adds. “I’m going to go get Fritz, and then I can take over completely for you all. I should be back within the hour.”

Remy still looks nervous, but he posts up by the door anyway. After taking one last glance around the room, Jeremy pulls out his tablet and takes a peek at Pirate’s Cove, and his blood goes cold. He can just barely make out a tiny shadow in the corner of the room and watches in horror as Foxy reaches for the child. Without another word, he drops the tablet and sprints down the left hall.

The kids shout for him, trying to figure out what’s wrong, but he doesn’t have time for that. Fritz is being attacked.

===

God, Michael does not want to see Circus Baby. If he never saw that horrifying monster ever again, it would still be too soon. He watches with a detached sort of dread as the walls melt and warp between the almost comforting decor of the ‘93 location and the sterile, pristine walls of Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Squeaky-clean floors, the faint and endless song echoing from Ballora’s Gallery, footsteps trailing behind him at all times, a shadowed figure always just out of sight. Even knowing that none of it was real didn’t help, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he was safe. Circus Baby is the only one out tonight; his ability to hear the others was just in his head. 

Wait…

That might work, actually. If there was one thing that Michael knew about Circus Baby, it was that she was physically incapable of shutting up. As stupid as it seemed, Michael closed his eyes and listened. It takes a moment, and he gets distracted as two sets of human footsteps pass him, but it’s there. Underneath the music and the near-silent slithering of wires, he hears her. 

The Arcade.

It makes sense, in retrospect. Michael knew that the main draw of Circus Baby’s Pizza World, aside from the animatronic performers, was the massive arcade that took up the majority of the building. It also happened to be the location where most parents last saw their children before they’d mysteriously ‘vanished’. He approaches the entrance to the room cautiously, uncomfortably aware of the advanced technology each Funtime possesses. Aside from Ballora, Baby had the best hearing in the group, and she used it to her advantage whenever possible. If he so much as breathed too loudly, she would hear it, and he would lose what little leverage he had.

The sight of his little sister trembling in the corner of the room, curled up and sobbing hysterically as she pleaded for the animatronic to go away, was almost enough to make him draw Baby’s attention away before he was ready. He hadn’t seen Elizabeth in decades, and the idea that she was so close and yet so far had his eyes watering. 

Simply hearing her voice, shaky and desperate, makes his chest hurt. “Please,” she begged, “just leave me alone. I want to go home!”

Michael watches from behind as Circus Baby’s head tilts, and the unwanted image of her demented smile has him swallowing back bile. “I thought you liked me. You should’ve known I’d find you.”

He takes a silent step forward, flinching as his sister’s emerald eyes catch sight of him illuminated by the screens of the arcade cabinets. Elizabeth’s eyes widened, darting from him after only a second to not give him away. It reminded him of their childhood, only with the positions reversed. The memories of him being beaten within an inch of his life as his poor sister watched, unable to do anything without drawing their father’s wrath, caused him to shiver. Michael smothers those thoughts before the world around him tries to change, knowing damn well that it was the last thing his sister needed to see.

Another step, one foot in front of the other. Heel first, then roll each step forward. Quiet and steady. He inches closer and closer, Circus Baby talking all the while. “I don’t understand.” The animatronic lurches forward slightly, and the hiss of her chest opening fills the room. “It will only hurt for a moment. You won’t die.”

Elizabeth screams, and Michael surges forward. His hands find the near-invisible buttons easily. One at the top corner of the back left plate of her head, one in between the divide along the top and middle of her torso. Circus Baby jolts as a cover in the middle of her back opens, barely able to react as Michael inputs a code he knows by heart. 1-9-8-3-3-9-5-2-4-8. 

In times like these, Michael is thankful that his father is so predictable. The power to Circus Baby cuts off, halfway into maintenance mode, and Elizabeth scrambles to get away from the animatronic. She latches onto his arm with a white-knuckled grip, tiny fingernails digging in so hard that she’s surely broken skin. He gently pulls her out of the room, safe in the knowledge that it takes Baby almost an hour to break out of the strange limbo he’d put her in. 

His sister is bawling her eyes out, a jumbled mix of pleas and apologies streaming out of her at a pace he can barely keep up with. “Oh God, Mike, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, please don’t leave me here! I-I didn’t know, I swear, don’t let her get me!”

Michael crouches down to her level, and she buries her head in his shoulders as he wraps her up in a hug. “She can’t move right now, Liz. I need to get you somewhere safe before she manages to fix herself.”

He pulls her up, and she clings to him for the entire walk, like he’d disappear if she let go. Halfway to the office, she tugs on his arm. “Mike?”

“Yeah, Liz?”

With a sniffle, she admits, “Evan was with me, a-and I didn’t notice when he split off. ‘M sorry, I know we’re always supposed to stay together, I didn’t mean to lose him!”

Michael huffs out a quiet laugh. “I’m surprised that you even remember that rule. It’s alright, though. I’m going to drop you off in Security, and then I’m going to look for him. Do you know where he might’ve gone?”

“I turned into the arcade, and I think he kept going down the hall. I wanted to go after him, but Baby found me.”

From the Main Stage down the hall, past the arcade…party rooms! “I think I know where he is. Thank you for telling me.”

She nods, though she looks at him strangely as she does. Together, they walk into the office, only pausing to move out of the way as Jeremy sprints down the hall, and all of the kids look up at him when they enter. He checks his watch, relieved to see that it’s barely past 2:00, and he quickly counts heads. Lizzie makes six, and the only other kid missing aside from his brother is the boy who’s in Foxy. “Alright,” he starts, almost uncomfortable with all the attention. “Circus Baby is going to be in play by 3:00, and she’s a strange one to deal with. She doesn’t come to the office at all, since she’s programmed specifically to attack whenever there’s only one person. That means she’s going to try to lure you out instead. From this point on, you need to ignore anything you hear someone say unless they’re in this room and you can see them speak. I don’t care if you hear someone screaming for help, you need to stay in the office.”

Turning to his sister, he adds, “Lizzie, your job is to pay attention to your friends whenever you hear their voices. I need you to warn them when it’s Baby. You know her abilities the best, and I’m not sure if she can mimic more than a person’s voice. If she can, tonight’s going to get a lot more complicated.”

Elizabeth nods, and he ruffles her hair. Before he leaves, he checks through the cameras, hoping to spot Jeremy, and he catches movement near Pirate’s Cove. He also takes a peek at the power situation, and Charlie absolutely notices his grimace before he manages to wrestle his expression back into something neutral. 43% at 2:00. That’s…not the end of the world, if they’re careful from here on out. He’s managed with worse odds, and so has his boyfriend. “Make sure to tell Jeremy about the power when he gets here, alright? I’ll be right back.”

A glance down each hallway reveals that Freddy’s getting kind of close, which he warns Gabriel about. The music box is going steady, he can hear Chica in the kitchen, and none of the kids have seen Goldie yet. Bonnie is missing, but Michael is sure that he’ll turn up eventually.

He waves goodbye to the kids and heads off to the Party Rooms. He knows that Evan is more than capable of dealing with the Nightmares—they’d been tormenting his younger brother first, after all.

Chapter Text

Think, Jeremy, think!

He has mere seconds to come up with a plan for dealing with Foxy. He knows better than most that Foxy is uncomfortably aware—he hadn’t believed Ralph when he’d told Jeremy that Foxy couldn’t be fooled by the mask, and he’d almost lost his life for it. He’d been caught off-guard by the fox more than once, too (big shoutout to Balloon Boy, officially the worst animatronic he’d ever had to deal with. The kid inside was an absolute gem, but God was he a troll). Needless to say, he and Foxy don’t exactly get along. The animatronic doesn’t notice him as he races into Pirate’s Cove through the employee-only back door, distracted by the boy he’d cornered. Fritz dodges another swipe, his young face scrunched up in panicked concentration, and his chest heaving with every movement. His steps are shaky as he darts behind the curtains, throwing one right into the animatronic's face. It traps Foxy for a moment, metal arms flailing wildly as he runs face-first into a wall with a snarl. 

Fritz collapses to the ground, and it’s then that Jeremy notices the odd angle of the boy’s right ankle. Without a word, he rushes to the kid’s side, and poor Fritz screams. He realizes his mistake almost instantly as Foxy growls, now alerted to their position. Without a second thought, Jeremy dives in front of the boy and bites back a scream of his own as a rusty hook lodges itself into his back. The animatronic’s other hand grabs him by the hair and throws him across the room, momentarily distracted by the guard’s appearance. Taking advantage of the attention suddenly being on him, he shouts, “Kid, run! Down the main hall, then take the corridor on your right. Don’t stop until you reach the office, tell Charlie to check cam five!”

After a small stumble, Fritz bolts out of Pirate’s Cove. Foxy growls, moving to lunge after him, but Jeremy grabs the pirate to stop him from following. 

Good news: Fritz is safe. Bad news: Jeremy isn’t.

If there was one complaint he’d like to lodge with the Old Man, it was that the animatronics held grudges. He doesn’t know how, but he knows that Foxy remembers the half a dozen times Jeremy had barely escaped from that rusted maw with his life. If he had more time to think about it, he’d probably connect the dots that this version of the bot was created partially from Jeremy’s memories. If he really had a chance to analyse the situation, he would’ve noticed that this isn’t the right iteration of Foxy, either. As it is currently, he’s a bit busy jumping out of the way as Foxy tries to pounce on him. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” he goads. “Mangle got me fair and square!”

The Old Man must be watching this happen because there’s no way in hell that Foxy would be able to get offended by that comment otherwise. A muzzle full of razor-sharp teeth snaps at him, narrowly missing his face and sinking into his shoulder instead. The world around him goes fuzzy as a blinding pain reaches the forefront of his brain, and the only sound he can hear is a disgusting, squelching riiiiiiiip. 

His hand shakily reaches up towards the injured shoulder and comes away slick with blood. The pain in his head doubles as he looks up, up, up at Foxy, staring in horror at the bloodied fabric stuck to his teeth, and oh God, is that skin? It hurts, it hurts, he can’t move, he can’t see, something is wrong—

Foxy lunges again, and Jeremy doesn’t know what instinct comes over him because suddenly he’s holding the animatronic’s jaw open. The teeth dig into his hands, a sharp, prickling pain he barely registers over the stench of death coming from the mouth of the beast. Being easily double Jeremy’s weight, Foxy bears down, muzzle inching closer and closer, centimeters from Jeremy’s head, before the camera in the room turns on.

A little red dot blinks at Jeremy from the corner of the room as Foxy freezes, joints locking up and causing him to collapse into a heap from his precarious pose. Without a second thought, Jeremy shoves the tangle of metal off of him and sprints back to the office, keeping one hand on the wall at all times. The vision in his good eye keeps cutting in and out, causing him to ram into the side of the hallway and stumble blindly down the left corridor.

He’s not aware of how close he’s managed to get to the office until a hand pulls him inside. Charlie’s voice reaches his ears, and the volume of it makes him want to vomit. “Mr. Fitzgerald, what happened? You’re hurt!”

Jeremy holds up a trembling hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Where’s Fritz? Did he make it?”

“I’m okay, sir,” a tiny voice pipes up from the other side of the room. Jeremy whips his head in the boy’s general direction and grits his teeth as Fritz all but shrieks at the sight of him. “You’re bleeding!”

He feels around for his lanyard, practically ripping it from his neck and holding it out to where he thinks Charlie is. “I’ll be okay,” he promises the group at large. “I just need Charlie to take these keys and grab me something from the desk. Gold key, bottom left drawer. Inside is a lockbox; use the silver key with a purple dot painted on it to open it. There are going to be a dozen or so small vials with a metallic-looking liquid inside. Take one out carefully and hand it to me, please. Nobody else touches it, am I understood?”

A whispered chorus of affirmations floats around the room, and Jeremy pays close attention to the sound of the drawer opening. There’s the clink of metal on metal as Charlie presumably puts the lockbox onto the desk, and a horrified gasp has him flinching. “Is this…?”

“Remnant? Yes. I can explain later, but I need it right now.”

Thankfully, the girl must trust him, as the cold weight of a dosage vial meets his palm. He uncaps it as best he can without being able to see and downs the entire thing in one go. It’s best to get Remnant into the bloodstream, but if he pours it directly onto his wound he might genuinely pass out from the feeling. As it is, the disgusting tang of metal hits the back of his throat, coating his tongue with the taste of iron and rot in its purest form. His body tries to reject it immediately, forcing it back up, but he swallows it down with a full-body shudder.

A nauseous groan rips itself from his chest as the flesh and muscle of his shoulder knit itself back together. Excess Remnant drips down his face from his bite while his vision slowly returns, and Jeremy does his best to collect the leftovers back in the vial. It’s gross, sure, but the Remnant that he and Michael stash away is theirs, so he can do whatever he likes with it. Hopefully, Mike will have enough energy left at the end of the night to filter the blood out of the mixture. There was always the lake as an alternative, but it was a bit of a hassle to deal with.

Jeremy blinks rapidly as he takes in the state of his injuries. A quick stretch reveals that his shoulder is healed, and the severity of his bite wound has calmed significantly, though the ache is still present. The children stare at him while he does his best to collect himself. “Questions later,” he bites out. “Update, now.”

Charlie flinches slightly at his tone, refusing to meet his eyes as she admits, “When Michael came by with Lizzie, he told me to tell you about the power…?”

Oh. Oh God, no. He checks his watch as dread settles in his stomach. 2:05. “Please don’t tell me we’re below half.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize,” she cries. “I was never in a location with limited power, I completely forgot that this could happen!”

As gently as he can, Jeremy approaches the monitor setup and holds back a flurry of curses. 42%. He takes a deep breath—anger wouldn’t help anybody right now. “Until Michael gets back, I need one of you to help me with the doors.”

Immediately, Charlie speaks up. “It’s my fault that this is happening. I’ll do it.” 

Jeremy smiles at her as best he can. “Thanks, Charlie. Everyone else, find a locker and get inside. You are to stay in your locker until the alarm sounds for 6:00. Susie, you and Fritz will be sharing one of the large lockers. Elizabeth, you’ll be with Evan when he gets here.”

One by one, each locker gets an occupant, and Jeremy thanks whatever god is smiling down on him because there’s just enough room for everyone. Charlie will have to hide underneath the desk, but at least everyone has a spot. They’d never actually had to use them before; they were just around for kids who got particularly scared during the night shift, so it’s nigh-on a miracle that nobody is left out. He flips through each camera as fast as humanly possible before turning the display off.

For a moment, Jeremy almost feels like he’ll be able to handle this, and then he hears a distinct thud inside the vents. No fucking way.

Withered Chica’s smug face blinks back at him from the vent map, slowly creeping closer. Within seconds, Jeremy is across the room, digging through one of the many boxes of random parts and pulling out a mask of the Puppet. He tosses it to the girl, who looks at it in confused shock. “Strap that on and be ready to use it when I tell you.”

Back at the desk, Jeremy pulls out his and Michael’s masks, quickly strapping his on and pushing it to the side of his head. The weight of the old Freddy mask is almost comforting in its familiarity, and the stench of sweat and mold bombards his senses. Ah, memories. Horrible, horrible memories.

Less than four hours left. Everything will be fine.

= = =

It’s difficult at first for Michael to pinpoint which party room his brother is in. Evan had always been quiet as a mouse, able to cover up his presence effortlessly. If he had to guess, he’d say that his brother would be underneath a table—that had always been his preferred hiding spot. He can feel Nightmare’s presence hovering nearby, the unbearable weight of his gaze making his hair stand on end. Ha, un-bear-able. 

If Michael were to be completely honest, he would admit that the Nightmares creeped him out. It was bound to happen after living with them hunting him all night, every night, for almost five years. However, he also knew what they really looked like. He’d found them down in Circus Baby’s—well, connected to it, at least. The realization that his father had been drugging both him and his little brother was a bit of a mindfuck, but that little factoid was enough for him to want to uncover the actual animatronics that had supposedly stalked the halls of their home.

They were real, alright, but God did they look stupid. Wonky, misproportioned endoskeletons made out of scrap metal, shambling around in an approximation of fluid movement, dull claws, and a handful of teeth in their misshapen maws. Sure, they looked like their old selves in here, but the knowledge of just how ridiculous they actually were was enough to soothe his nerves quite a bit. He’d never been able to take them seriously after he saw them—they were nothing more than drug-induced hallucinations fueled by guilt and self-loathing. His nightmares were just another part of him. Before him, they had been his brother’s, and Evan had won against them. Michael has no doubts that he was holding his own rather well.

A burst of static comes from behind him, and he can feel the hot breath of the monster over his shoulder. “Hi, Nightmare.”

“I am your wickedness, made of flesh.”

Michael huffs out a quiet laugh, rolling his eyes. “Good for you, man. Have you seen my brother?”

Nightmare Fredbear appears suddenly, inches away from his face, and Michael grimaces at the sight of blood and viscera dripping down the bear’s maw. The sickening sound of a skull being crushed echoes through the hall, a wet crunch and a cut-off cry, and the golden animatronic tilts its head at him. In spite of himself, Michael feels a tiny, fond smile grow on his face. Never let it be said that his hallucinations couldn’t be helpful. “Yeah, him. Do you know where he is? I need to get him back to the office.”

“We know who our friends are.” Both animatronics laugh, deep and distorted. 

A light in Party Room Three flickers. Bingo.

Michael enters the room, clicking on his flashlight as he crouches down to check underneath the tables. Quietly, he calls out, “Evan? Are you here?”

From the very back of the room, he hears a shaky whisper. “Michael? I-I’m scared…”

He lifts up the tablecloth that's hiding the boy as gently as he can, heartbroken at the sight of his little brother in such obvious distress. How he ever found this funny, he’ll never understand. “Hi, Ev.”

Evan blinks up at him in shock for a moment before barreling into his arms with a sob. Michael holds him close, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. His little brother trembles against him, both hands holding onto his shirt for dear life. “Don’t worry,” he soothes, “we’re gonna get you out of here. Your friends are really worried about you.”

Michael hands his brother the flashlight, and he fumbles with it for a moment from the unexpected weight. When he moves to stand, though, Evan pulls him back down with a surprising amount of strength. “You can’t leave me here!”

“Woah, woah! What are you talking about, little man?” His brother stares at him like he’s stupid, at a complete loss for words. The only thing he can do is point towards the open doorway, where Michael can spy two sets of bright red eyes in the darkness. Evan shines the light on them, gasping at the sight of their appearance, but Michael just gives them a little wave.

Nightmare laughs again while Nightmare Fredbear waves back. He doesn’t know how it’s possible, but the sheer confused shock on Evan’s face doubles, and Michael has to stifle a little laugh of his own. A tiny, offended scowl blocks his view of the two animatronics, letting him know that he didn’t hide his amusement nearly as well as he’d have liked. He sighs as he ruffles his brother’s hair. “Sorry, sorry. Don’t worry about them, okay? They’re…”

Oh God, how does he explain this? Making friends with his literal inner demons was not a good look; he would know. Jeremy had fretted over him for a solid two hours when he’d learned that Michael regularly had conversations with the shadows in their hallway and bedroom closet. He'd been sat down on the couch and handed his favorite blanket and the plate of food that his partner had been bringing him when he'd been caught while Jeremy paced around their living room, asking him question after question. How often does this happen? Is it just auditory, or is it visual? Is there an olfactory component? Tactile sensations? What kinds of things do they say to you? Do they tell you to do things? Have you always experienced this? Do you know what causes them? Does anybody else know? Is there something I can do to help?

Of course, his partner had believed him when he’d finally come clean—it was a holdover habit from his teenage years, and it brought him a small level of comfort, as strange as it was. He'd had to explain everything: what they looked like, what they sounded like, the things they would say, where they originally came from, and why he still engages in this kind of behavior. He'd even gone as far as to show his partner his sketchbook from those years, which was filled to the brim with hyper-realistic drawings of them in the halls, under the bed, in his closet, peeking in through the windows, and attacking him. Jeremy was kind, though. He never mocked Michael or called him crazy for it, eventually likening it to the one-sided conversations that he engaged in himself while writing things down in his journal. Both of them knew that they were simply having a chat with themselves, something to help them process the world around them as things spiralled further into insanity. Michael knew that they weren't real, that they hadn't been for a long time. It was like talking to your reflection in the mirror.

Trying to convey that concept to a ten-year-old was a different story entirely, and he flounders for a moment before he remembers that Evan had had the same habit when he was alive. Shame bubbles up at the thought that he’d found his brother so strange and annoying when he did it. Father had never approved of the behavior, punishing Michael whenever he caught Evan speaking with his not-so-imaginary friends because Michael was supposed to have gotten the boy to stop by that age. Never mind the fact that it was a completely normal thing for children to do, especially one so completely isolated. Having a ‘psychotic’ child was a bad look, after all. What would the town think if they knew that William was a terrible parent? No, better to have his oldest try to bully the behavior out of him. Michael was a trouble-maker; nobody would bat an eye if they caught him harassing Evan. Teenagers, right?

Best to rip the band-aid off, he supposes. “The best way to describe it is that we’re… friends. I can tell you about what they are another time, but I know that you at least probably recognize them.”

“They kind of look like the monsters in my nightmares.” One of them laughs again at the word ‘monsters’, and Evan flinches back. “But, those aren’t real, are they? That doesn’t make sense!”

Michael wobbles a hand in a so-so motion. “Father made them, or at least part of them. A lot of what we’re seeing right now is real here, but not when we were alive. Not fully, anyway.”

The boy’s gaze darts between the two horrifying creatures and Michael a few times before settling back on his older brother. “You said that they’re your friends?”

“Basically, yeah,” he confirms. “They helped me find you, actually.”

“We know who our friends are,” Fredbear croons again through distorted static.

Michael smiles tiredly at the golden animatronic, a bit of warmth in his chest growing with every time he hears those words. “I know you do, big guy. Evan, this is Nightmare Fredbear, or Fredbear for short. The other one is just called Nightmare. It’s been a bit since they’ve gotten to see either of us, so they’re a bit excited. There are others like them, too, but they’re not here right now. They won’t hurt you while I’m here, I promise.” He turns around to pin the two animatronics with a glare. “Right, guys?”

Nightmare’s grin stretches unnaturally. “You will be spared.”

The nightguard snorts in response. He can’t help it! It’s so funny watching these hulking monstrosities try to be nice, especially when it comes out like a threat. “See, they like you!” He holds out his hand for his brother, thankful when he takes it. “Come on, everyone’s probably worried sick.”

Evan stumbles a bit at first when he has to get near the animatronics, but the two simply watch with curiosity as Michael flips through the different maps on his tablet. Both hallways are pretty full at this point, which is less than ideal, but there’s no way he’s taking Evan through the vents. He’s been hearing something thumping around up there for a while now, and a peek at the vent map confirms his suspicions: the Withers were out. Thankfully, normal Bonnie walks back down the main hall towards the dining room, and Michael pulls Evan out of sight just in time. “Okay,” he whispers once the rabbit is out of earshot. “That means the left corridor should be clear right now, so we’re going to have to make a run for it.”

His little brother nods, turning off the flashlight and falling into step right in front of Michael. Gently, the guard directs him to safety, waving goodbye to Nightmare as he splits off toward the right corridor. Nightmare Fredbear follows right on Michael’s heels, but true to his word, doesn’t try anything.

The second that they walk in, Jeremy chucks Michael’s old Foxy mask in his general direction and calls out, “Elizabeth, your brother is here! Open the door and make room!”

Lizzie peeks out of the locker behind Jeremy, waving Evan in. “C’mon, dummy!” The second that the boy is safely inside, his sister shouts, “Good luck, Mikey,” and slams the door.

Michael takes a moment to take in the state of the room as he straps on his mask, shuddering at the familiar weight. Charlie was the only one other than Jeremy who was out of hiding, wearing a mask of the Puppet and standing perfectly in the center of the room with an arm outstretched towards each door. She seemed stressed, but uninjured. Jeremy, however…”What the hell happened to you?”

A giant piece of his shirt had been torn off at the shoulder, the fabric surrounding it drenched in still-wet blood. The skin underneath the tear looked fine, but the streaks of silver running down the older guard’s face told him that it wasn’t always like that. His boyfriend’s hands were trembling and uncoordinated, and the blonde huffed angrily before he stood from the chair. “I cannot emphasize how little I want to talk about it. Charlie, under the desk. Mike, you’re on cameras—I’m having a hard time over here.”

Knowing better than to question Jeremy when he was like this, Michael gingerly takes the main tablet connected to the office displays. Charlie makes herself at home under the desk, and Michael steadfastly ignores the sound of screeching sheet metal grinding across the floor. “Jeremy, call.”

“Chica’s in the kitchen, music box is wound, Foxy’s in the Cove. Bonnie’s at the Main Stage, Baby’s in the Arcade. Withered Chica and Bonnie are in the front vent, Withered Freddy’s in the Main Hall. Withered Foxy’s trying to smuggle himself inside, so far it’s only his left arm. Haven’t seen Goldie in a minute. Pretty sure I saw Scrap Baby trying to reassemble herself, but the taser’s got plenty of charge.”

The younger guard nods, rapidly turning the camera on and off to keep Foxy in place without using any power. “Wither,” he warns, and both of them drop their masks. Withered Bonnie crawls out of the front vent, staring at the duo for a long moment before getting bored and wandering out the left door. Michael slides his mask back up. “When was the last time you changed the music?”

Jeremy looks down at his watch, tilting his head as he counts on his fingers. “2:20, so…five minutes ago?”

“Perfect, thank you. We’re holding steady at 39%. Get ready on your right, Freddy’s about to be there.” His boyfriend darts across the room, hand hovering over the button. “And…now!”

The hollow thunk that the animatronic makes as it bangs on the door is like music to Michael’s ears.

Chapter Text

Michael stares at his watch with growing concern. It’s 5:30, and they only have 1% of the power left. They both knew that this was going to happen when they started—the base power drain rate was 1% every five minutes, after all. It was a miracle that they’d managed to keep it down to that rate once they were back in the office, but years of practice has made them acutely aware of exactly how much power every action drains and how long it takes for that drain to start. Keeping actions limited to split seconds was what really let them last.

Things had been going…well, not smoothly, but it was manageable. There hadn’t been a dull moment since they’d started, working together like a well-oiled machine. Jeremy was quick with the doors and lights, calling time whenever he had a free moment, and Michael kept everything else on a tight schedule. Check Foxy every other minute for less than a full second, wind the box every five minutes, and change the music every fifteen. Withered Foxy’s got an arm and a leg inside, but whenever there was a pause, Jeremy chucked the limbs back down the hall. Scrap Baby managed to haul herself into the room, and the two of them knew there was no point in trying to get her out. Every time she twitched, Michael had his hand on the taser in an instant. If she was too still, or started up with that godawful clicking, Jeremy walked over and kicked her in the shin—not helpful, exactly, but very cathartic. 

Speaking of Jeremy, he seemed one wrong move away from blowing a gasket. Not at Michael, of course, never at Michael. It was exceedingly rare that Jeremy ever lost his head when it came to him, and the handful of times over the decades that they’d been together, every single one had been more than deserved (in his opinion, at least. Jeremy never seemed to agree with him on that front). At the Old Man, though? Absolutely. At the animatronics? It was basically a guarantee. 

It breaks Michael’s heart a little bit, the fact that there’s nothing he can do to help. Jeremy’s condition wouldn’t get better until the night was over and everyone was safe. As long as the kids were at risk, both guards would continue to slowly deteriorate. Michael was doing all right, all things considered, but he hadn’t been used like a chew toy yet. Jeremy, on the other hand, was getting obviously worse with every passing minute. The tremors in his arms were ever-present, and more often than not, Michael would look up to see his partner trying (and failing) to fight off harsh muscle spasms. His footing was growing more clumsy, causing him to stumble instead of taking proper steps. A handful of times, he’d had to stop his back-and-forth patrol of the office to stand in a far corner and dry heave, and Michael couldn’t go comfort him without putting everyone in danger. 

The cognitive decline wasn’t as severe, but it was definitely there. Michael had had to remind the older guard what was happening a few times as the confusion set in, and his reaction time was slowing drastically. Warnings had to be given earlier and earlier, which threw off their timing, causing unnecessary power drain and more than one close call. 

Jeremy was reaching his limit, and Michael was not going to sit here and let Jeremy stay in danger when he did. While Jeremy distracted himself by shouting profanities down the front vent, Michael leaned down to quietly knock on the makeshift door of the hiding space under the desk. 

A bright green eye peeked through the crack as the door ever so slightly slid open, looking at him in confusion. In a low voice, he asked, “Is there any room down there?”

Now, he knows for a fact that there is—it was the same size as the hiding spot under the console in Circus Baby’s Auditorium, so there was enough space to fit two full adults, albeit a bit squished together. He asks more because Charlie isn’t exactly familiar with Jeremy, and might not want him up in her space like that. Neither he nor Jeremy would want to make her—or any of the kids—uncomfortable like that, even if one of them was injured.

Charlie, with her endless kindness, opens the door wider. “Is everything okay?”

He smiles at her. “It’s going to be fine, but Jeremy’s a little worse for wear, and the night’s about to get messy. I was wondering if you’d be willing to share with him?”

Worry creases her brow as she shifts over to press herself up against one side of the space. “Of course he can!”

Michael looks back up over the desk and pointedly clears his throat. “Jeremy, love, can you come here for a moment?”

The older guard looks over his shoulder towards Michael with a frown. “What’s up?”

Be firm, Michael, he coaches himself. He won’t listen to you otherwise. Play your cards correctly. Smiling nervously, Michael waves him over and latches onto his arm so that he can’t run off. “We’re about to run out of power, and I’m doing interference tonight. Charlie here has offered to let you bunk with her.”

Predictably, Jeremy’s face contorts into shocked anger as he tries to pry Michael’s death grip off of his sleeve. “Are you stupid?” he asks incredulously. “No way, I’m not going to sit and cower while you put yourself in danger! Now, let me go!”

If anything, Michael’s hold gets tighter, and his smile flattens out. He hates to call his partner out like this, but the power is slowly dropping, and they’ve got maybe two minutes left to have this entire argument. He is not going to lose. “You can barely stand, love, and in the past half hour you’ve forgotten what’s going on four times. If you go out like this, it won’t be pretty, and we both know it.”

Jeremy sneers. “Oh, and you getting mauled is a better outcome? Explain that to me, why don’t you. This is stupid, Michael. You’re wasting time!”

The older guard squirms in his grasp, doing his best to shove Michael away, but he stands strong. “Be rational, Jeremy.” He hates, hates, hates what he has to say, but it’s the only way to keep Jeremy safe. “If we both go out, I’m going to get distracted trying to protect you.” A little wounded noise comes from his partner at the concept, but Michael barrels forward. “You’re in no state to be running around the pizzeria, even without things chasing you! One of us needs to stay here with the kids, and the other needs to draw attention away. You won’t be able to handle that, and I don’t think you’ll be able to stomach another dose. You know I’m right.”

Jeremy flounders for a moment, trying to come up with a good counter, but only manages to get out a quiet, “But…Michael, please, I can’t just leave you!”

“You can, and you will.” 

Charlie slides the door fully open and looks up at them both with a sympathetic grimace. “Mr. Fitzgerald, come on. You trust Mike, don’t you?”

Gaping like a fish, Jeremy sputters out, “O-of course I do!”

“Then trust that he’s got it handled, okay?”

Jeremy’s gaze bounces between the two of them and the power, and he accepts his fate with a sigh. He crouches down with a wince, bringing a hand up to cradle the side of his head, and glares at Michael. “If you get hurt, I’m going to heal you just to maim you myself.”

Michael just smiles. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too. Charlie, make sure he doesn’t wander off, okay?”

There’s a firm look in her eyes when she nods and gently grabs Jeremy’s arm. The older guard rolls his eyes as she slides the door closed again. It’s just in time, too, because the generator stutters, lights flickering and dying as the entire place goes dark. 5:35. Honestly, not a bad time considering all that’s happened. From the left door, a pair of glowing eyes peered into the room, quickly catching sight of him. Michael hums along to the Toreador March, doing his best to stay calm as more and more animatronics crowd the doors and peek out from the vents. Hi there, I’m Freddy, wanna come and play? I think you’re special in your own way…

Slowly, he backs into the left corner, watching as the eyes follow him. The one saving grace of this lineup is that nobody is in the ducts, which leaves him with an escape route. Circus Baby fully enters the room, twitching slightly, and a tiny wave of satisfaction overcomes him. Looks like she was more susceptible to that little maintenance mode bug than he’d thought. I’d love to sing a song with you, it’s my favorite thing to do, ‘cause I love you through and through!

Freddy’s eyes blink out, and Circus Baby tilts her head, frozen smile seeming more malicious than usual. In that feather-light, eerie voice of hers, she calls out, “Let’s play, Night Guard.” Addressing the other animatronics, she adds, “We promise to play fair, don’t we?” Everyone crowding the doors lurches forward, some stumbling into the room, and the few in the vents crawl out. “We’re going to play Ghost in the Graveyard. Do you remember how to play?”

Michael shrugs hesitantly. “One person is the ghost, who has to hide. Everyone else is a seeker. If someone finds them, the hider has an opportunity to tag them before they can run to safety or tell another person. The person that finds them can also try to tag them, which ends the game and makes them the new ghost.” Circus Baby nods, but he interrupts her before she can continue. “What’s the win condition? One against fourteen doesn’t seem very fair…”

She giggles, and the sound sends a shiver up his spine. Such an innocent noise, hauntingly similar to his little sister, and yet he knows that she’s just toying with him. He’s entertaining, and so many years underground would leave anyone bored. An endless game of cat and mouse, only extended because the cat is having too much fun to let it stop. “I suppose,” she starts magnanimously, “you have been very well-behaved tonight. I will even forgive you for cheating earlier, as long as you don’t do it again. All you need to do, dummy, is survive , and you are allowed to tag someone and force them to sit out for the rest of the night. You could even try to get them to tag someone else, if you’re convincing enough. That sounds fair, doesn’t it?”

He sets a timer on his watch, agrees with a quiet, “Okay,” and inches closer to the open duct.

Circus Baby’s eyes shine brighter for a moment. “Good. You’re it.”

Without a second thought, Michael crouches down into the duct as some of the animatronics start towards him. He holds his tongue when he realizes that she isn’t stopping them from cheating after all. You’re supposed to give the hider time to find somewhere to go, and the metal hand that grazes his ankle tells him that there’s no head start for him. From the feel of it, it’s Withered Bonnie’s exposed endo, and he kicks it off of him, knocking the rabbit back out of the duct. He would normally celebrate the garbled, staticky shout that comes from behind him, but right now he’s got to focus. 

He’s careful to make as little noise as possible when he’s moving around. Will it help? Probably not, since the duct exits are pretty obvious, but old habits are hard to break. He crawls his way into Party Room 1, and is honestly surprised that none of them are waiting to jump him. He stands, dusting himself off as he assesses the situation. 

From here, there were a few options laid out before him. He could potentially try to wait out the time hiding in here underneath a table; it was dark and quiet, and the tablecloths ended less than an inch above the floor. Most of the animatronics currently out and about would have a difficult time finding him, with the original gang being completely incapable of something as simple as bending down. It had been taken out of them when they were refurbished for reasons that he still doesn’t understand, but it’s not like he’s complaining about it. Frankly, it just made his job in ‘93 easier. The Withers were much better at it, but as long as he managed to control his breathing, it was unlikely that they’d stumble across him. However, that still left Goldie, both Babies, the Puppet, and the two Nightmares, all of which were uncannily talented at finding people. Goldie and the Nightmares could teleport directly to him whenever they felt like it, the two Babies were equipped with insanely advanced senses, which made them able to pinpoint someone’s location over time, and he’s absolutely fucked if the music box runs out. With the others, he would at least have a chance of escaping, however slim it was. If the Puppet came out to play, there would be nowhere for him to go—the damn thing was relentless, and it always knew where you were. 

He could also try to make a run for it, but to where? Parts and Service had lockers and cabinets in it, and the Arcade had some tables. The Dining Area, Main Stage, Backstage, and Kitchen were all bad options—too obvious, too open. 

The Arcade was a tentative ‘maybe’, but he’s quick to cross it out as well since Circus Baby would probably be heading that way. Funtimes were always drawn to it, occasionally to the point that they would distract themselves from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing. It’s a habit that Michael theorizes is part programming (Funtimes are built to locate and lure children away, and an arcade was a perfect place to do so. It’s the entire reason that the Pizza World’s main draw was the huge game area: loud music, bright lights from the cabinets, children screaming and laughing as they won and lost. Nobody would notice the absence of one child for a while) and part supernatural (when the kids in the Funtimes were here, they spent most of the day in the Arcade and actively sought it out when distressed. He’d realized quickly that it was the last place they’d felt happy, the last good memory they had of their lives).

Parts and Service wasn’t an ideal choice, either. Sure, there was a lot of clutter, which would make hiding easy. The downside to that messiness is that it’s dark right now due to the outage, and Michael knows that there’s stuff all over the floor. If he so much as brushes past the wrong table or steps on an old endo, his spot would be given away instantly, and Parts and Service only had two exits: the door and the vent. Both of those options were awful and basically guaranteed a loss. No, Parts and Service was officially a terrible idea.

There was one place he could think of, but he’s positive that he’d be accused of cheating if he got caught. The Saferoom was open, and most of the current roster was physically unable to enter it. Of course, Goldie, the Nightmares, and the two Babies would be able to find him, and the Puppet was a toss-up. That was less than half of them, though, so it’s the best choice he’s got. If he’s careful, nobody would know he was there, and he would have ample opportunity to force at least a few of the animatronics to sit out for the second game. 

He creeps closer to the door leading out into the hallway and stops short when he feels a presence behind him. In a flash, he’s turned around, one arm coming up to block his face and the other reaching out. It’s Nightmare, and suddenly Michael regrets telling him that they could play later. Don’t get him wrong, he’s fine with giving them a little enrichment every now and then, but they liked to play rough. He makes contact with the bear’s torso and whispers, “Tag!” but it’s too late. Three rows of needle-sharp teeth bury themselves into his forearm, and he barely manages to swallow back a pained cry. Fuck, that definitely went down to the bone, and Michael thanks whatever force must be watching out for him that his forearm doesn’t snap under the force.

It’s incredibly difficult to even get the words out as his thoughts drown underneath waves of panicked signals being sent to his brain, but he manages to spit out a quiet, “I got you first and you know it!”

Nightmare lets out a low, disappointed grumble as he unlatches his jaw, ripping a bit of muscle out as he goes, and Michael almost feels bad. Circus Baby’s rules spring back into his mind, so he offers, “You could join my team, if you still want to play. I bet you could get Fredbear in on it, too.”

The bear perks up and nods, letting out a distorted laugh. Michael smiles, though it feels more like a grimace from the pain. Don’t get him wrong, it’s an agonizing feeling, but he’s been through much worse. Nothing will ever compare to the horrific sensation of having his insides forcefully removed, or the searing burn of fire licking up his skin as he melted and bubbled and charred. He holds his forearm close to his chest as Nightmare backs off. “I’m going to hide in here, and I need you to try and lure your brother…”