15Chapter 4: It's Me
Michael didn't expect any huge reaction out of the decaying rabbit costume. Maybe a slight shift in the eyes, a tilt of the head, or even a twitch of the ear if the creature felt particularly excitable. However, as the minutes ticked by and Michael remained rooted to his spot just inside the door, the rabbit refused to move.
"I know… it's you," Michael murmured, gaining enough confidence to shuffle over to the empty chair at the table. His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at the spring-lock suit, examining the sorry state of the thing in front of him.
Decades ago, Michael had truly loved the mummified man trapped inside the rotting rabbit suit. When he was young, Michael spent as much time as he could with his father, the person half-responsible for the successful Fazbear Entertainment Franchise. In those days, William Afton was inventive, friendly, and a model citizen.
Then, the first tragedy struck. Soon afterward, another child was lost to the animatronics that he so lovingly crafted with his own hands.
From that point on, William's life was turned upside-down and over again. He was never fully able to regain his footing, and that instability ultimately led him to do the unthinkable. At first, his intentions were to save his family. However, along the way that original idea became mangled into a twisted sense of revenge for his own misfortune. His eldest son, Michael, was quickly swept up in this misfortune as well.
"At least… I'm trying to… to redeem myself," Michael snapped aloud, voice echoing in the dark room. His father, forever trapped in his own spring-locked suit, remained immobile. "…Heartless bastard."
Angrily, Michael jammed his finger against the Play button on the cassette player. After a second of whirring gears, the same voice as the night before filled the air.
"Before you is an animatronic found in the back alley. We are unsure of its origins. It is your job to complete the maintenance checklist before claiming it as 'salvage.' Or, if you choose to, you can throw it back into the alley where you found it and forfeit payment. Please make your choice now."
Michael frowned at the cassette, confused but not surprised that it had been inexplicably rewound to the salvage instructions from the night before. Remembering the next step of the process, he paused the tape and, without taking his eyes off the rotting rabbit, stood and backed up to the door. He shifted his gaze for a split-second to make sure that he pressed the correct button, swiveling his head back to the rabbit when the door lock clicked into place.
William Afton hadn't moved.
"You have chosen to proceed with the maintenance checklist," the cassette voice said once Michael sat down again and pressed Play. "Remember, use your company-issued taser to return the animatronic to a neutral state if you feel that it's becoming unstable or aggressive. You can only use it three times before it begins to damage the animatronic and decrease its value."
I don't care about its "value," Michael thought bitterly. I just want him off the streets, like he should have been years ago.
"…How did you… get here?" Michael asked aloud, pausing the tape yet again. His stare was so focused that he thought he might burn a hole through the decaying fur. "Now's your… chance to answer."
The corpse in the rabbit suit did not make a sound.
Michael gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to activate the taser and throw it at the creature in front of him. However, he knew this would solve nothing. If anything, it might prompt an undesired reaction, for Michael was 110% certain that his father was very much alive and aware of everything happening around him.
After all, if William wasn't self-sufficient, how had he made it to this restaurant? According to Chad, no one had set foot on the land that had once been Fazbear's Fright since it burned down the night before its grand opening. Either someone transported the charred remains of Springtrap, as Michael had ironically referred to the creature before he knew its true identity, to his new franchise location, or the rabbit had walked there himself.
Michael would bet his last remaining breaths it was the latter.
"Fine," he muttered bitterly. William obviously didn't feel like talking, so there was no further use in prompting him to do so. At least, not in the typical fashion.
"Begin audio prompt in 3… 2… 1," the cassette voice announced, followed by a horrible grating sound that set Michael's heightened nerves even more on edge. "Document results."
The rabbit refused to move, so Michael picked up the checklist and held it up to his face, reading closely to make sure he marked the correct box. This checklist, too, had been inexplicably "reset" and replaced with a brand-new sheet. Michael placed the paper back onto the table and narrowed his eyes at the creature across from him. Had it always been sitting up that straight?
"Don't," he said through clenched teeth. Picking up the taser, Michael turned it over in his hand once and then pointed it threateningly at the creature across the table. "I'm not afraid... to use this." Taser clutched tightly in his right hand, Michael played the cassette tape again.
"Begin audio prompt in 3… 2… 1." Another grinding sound, another lack of movement from the animatronic. "Document results."
This time, when Michael placed the paper back onto the table, he was undoubtedly certain that his father shifted position during his momentary distraction. Without hesitation, Michael thrust the taser onto the animatronic's chest and activated it. The little machine produced so much electricity that the light above short-circuited. In the momentary darkness, Michael expected to feel a pair of large hands wrap around his throat. However, when the light blessedly came back to life, the rotting rabbit was back in its original position.
"Don't... fucking... mess with... me," Michael hissed as threateningly as he could. His grip on the taser tightened as he brought it back to his side; there was no way he was letting it go now. The hardness in Michael's eyes softened as he looked at the wretched state of the creature in front of him. "I tried to... give you another chance, Father. But... you destroyed it decades ago."
To Michael's surprise, that actually prompted a reaction. His father remained still, but a deep laugh echoed from the decaying suit. The sound was so mirthless and devoid of remorse that Michael was instantly brought back to the day he had discovered his father's crimes. When confronted about all that he had done, William Afton had merely laughed, exactly as he was doing now.
For the first time in years, Michael did something he'd promised himself he would never do again: he acted without thinking. Disregarding his former reservations about pissing his father off, Michael activated the taser and threw it straight at the rotting rabbit. The taser lodged itself between a pair of exposed rib-bones, sending an electric shock throughout the mummified body as it once again short-circuited the light.
A fleeting smile passed across Michael's lips in the darkness, before the gravity of his actions fully hit him. He realized that he'd literally just thrown away his only form of protection. Not to mention that, as immobile as he seemed, now William had the weapon in his possession.
"Shit!" Michael hissed as the light flickered back to life, revealing that the rotting rabbit no longer sat in its chair. Standing up and peering over the table, Michael found the creature on the floor, fingers twitching as the remnants of electricity flowed out of the metal endoskeleton. The taser lay on the floor near William's side.
Cautiously, Michael walked around the table and stood over his father, fully expecting him to jump up and scare him, as he had done countless times before. When the rabbit didn't move, against his better judgment Michael reached down to grab the taser. Just as his fingers grazed the surface of the weapon, a large, fur-covered paw latched around his wrist.
"That was easier than I thought it would be," William said, his eyes rolling in their sockets to meet his son's. The eternal grin of the rabbit costume seemed to widen as the murderer got to his feet, being painstakingly sure not to let go of Michael.
"No...," Michael whispered. Looking into the crazed eyes of the creature responsible for so much torment, the first wave of genuine fear he'd felt in years washed over his body.
William's voice was deeper than Michael remembered, with a grating edge as if the man's vocal chords rasped against the metallic endoskeleton with each word. The fact that he spoke in the first place was rather surprising because, for reasons Michael had yet to discover, his father hadn't said a word during their time together in Fazbear's Fright. William had laughed quite a bit, of course- so much so that Michael heard the echoes of demented chuckles every night for months afterwards. Despite that, William never actually said anything. Whether this was because he physically couldn't at the time, or because something else stopped him from speaking, Michael had no idea.
Nor did he really care. Michael had grown accustomed to his father's lack of speech, just as he had grown accustomed to everything else in his life that, to the average person, seemed inconceivable.
"How did you… come back?" Michael asked, eyes locked onto the sunken remains of the rabbit suit's own animatronic eyes.
"I always come back," William responded simply, tightening his grip around Michael's wrist as the younger man struggled to get free.
"But… how?" Michael repeated, not in the mood for cryptic answers. An anxiety unlike anything he had felt in years slowly began to build in his chest, growing every second he stared at the decaying rabbit costume. The man in front of him was bad; it radiated off the robotic suit in tandem with the electrical current blanketing the room.
"You're evil," Michael hissed, tired of his father's refusal to answer and figuring that this was a much more fitting word to describe him that simply "bad." Michael yanked his arm again and heard a small snap.
He gasped, freezing in place, staring at his arm as William looked down at it as well. To Michael's relief, nothing appeared amiss from the outside; however, this did not mean that nothing was wrong with the limb. It was both fortunate and unfortunate that Michael couldn't feel much pain these days- fortunate, because he couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of mental state he would be in if his nerves were still fully working and could feel everything that was already wrong with him... but unfortunate for a similar reason.
Slowly, as if filled with morbid curiosity, William let go of Michael's wrist. Thankfully, Michael's hand didn't immediately flop downwards once the pressure was released, but there was definitely an unpleasant twinge near the base of his hand.
"I… hate… you," Michael spat, backing a few feet away from his father and cradling his arm against his chest. It was a childish thing to say, he knew that, but the increasing worry of how much longer he would be able to use his right hand was already beginning to cloud his thoughts. In response, William Afton simply laughed.
Michael nearly lost it right then and there. It took all his willpower not to run straight at the rotting rabbit and beat it until either he or his father were damaged beyond repair. But, Michael knew this would accomplish nothing. Whatever he had to do to complete his on-going mission of redemption, he knew that wasn't it.
As Michael nursed his arm and debated what to do, William spared a quick glance at the wall behind Michael's chair. Michael followed his gaze, eyes widening as he realized what William had really been doing the entire time he sat in that chair pretending to be "inactive."
"Wait!" Michael exclaimed as his father began lumbering towards the opening to the ventilation system. He took a step towards the rotting rabbit, wanting to stop him, but then realized that without some form of weapon, there was nothing he could do at the moment. With one powerful swipe of a paw, Michael would be down for the count.
"What a deceptive calling," William said derisively, briefly looking at the cassette player as he passed it. "I knew it was a lie the moment I heard it, obviously. But, it was intriguing nonetheless."
"What do you… mean?!" Michael asked, following as close as he dared. There was no way to stop William from getting in those vents- Michael knew that. However, maybe his father would suddenly decide to be a little more forthcoming with information; it certainly didn't hurt to try.
Unfortunately, Michael's wish was not granted. With another deep, rumbling laugh that echoed throughout the small room, William spared one last dementedly gleeful look at his son before crawling into the vent and vanishing from sight.
