Chapter Text
"Well, your aunt was the one who rekindled everyone's interest in Freddy's, but... I gotta admit, I did add fuel to the fire. It's the perfect cover, I mean... Wait a second." Michael narrowed his eyes as he turned back to face Mike. "Why are you purple?"
Mike shifted uncomfortably, as if he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe he wouldn't be killing Mike after all. The other man was... intriguing.
"Oh, Mike's dead!" A young girl stuck her head out from behind the strangely purple man. That must be Abigail, then. Mike's sister. He wasn't particularly interested in killing children, that was his father's thing, but if she got in the way, he wouldn't hesitate.
"Thanks, Abby," Mike grumbled.
"He doesn't really like to talk about it though. Says thinking about it hurts more than what killed him did."
Michael left his place by the doorway. "Why didn't you tell me about this, sis?" he asked Vanessa, stepping closer to Mike. The purple tint to the other man's skin was faint but noticeable, like he'd tried covering it with makeup in a hurry, and some cheap cologne did almost nothing to cover the stink of rot this close. His eyes, too, were unusual, pure black with pinpricks of light serving as pupils. "Who are you, Mike Schmidt? What are you?"
"...Just a guy who took the wrong job a few years ago." He looked away, wouldn't meet Michael's eyes. Curious. He'd heard of an incident, a few years ago, where several of Father's machines had somehow escaped the Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental facility. Perhaps Mike's death had something to do with that. Perhaps it was a sign.
Vanessa looked away. "I... I'm trying to live a normal life, Michael. Why would I tell you anything?"
"A normal life? With a walking corpse?" Michael laughed. "Oh, Vanny, you were always Father's favorite. You'd throw that away for him?"
"Yeah, Michael, I would! You wouldn't get it! You're too obsessed with getting Dad's approval!" Vanessa shouted, stepping closer to Mike and Abigail. "Dad's dead! We're not! We're free!"
"Is that what you think?" Michael chuckled darkly. He could still feel Father's presence, in everything he did. "You think you can just cast aside your family for a shiny new life? You are his child. He's not gone, surely you feel it too. You, we, have a purpose. We will always be his."
Vanessa shook her head. "No... No, he's dead. I shot him. I watched him get killed by the things he loved more than either of us. He got springlocked, Michael, you know no one could've survived that!"
Michael grinned. "He didn't have to, Vanessa," he said, gesturing to Mike. "Mike here is proof of that. Corpses don't just come back to life, aren't you curious?"
"...I'm right here, you know." Mike crossed his arms. "Are you going to kill us or are you going to just stand there with your animatronics and talk about me like I'm not even in the room?"
"Oh, I doubt I could kill you. Besides, now you're too interesting to get rid of." Michael paused. "Well, to permanently get rid of. I'll of course need you out of the way while my friends take care of business at FazFest." He snapped his fingers, catching the animatronics' attention. "Don't kill them, but make sure they can't escape. I'll deal with them later."
As the animatronics stepped toward Vanessa, Mike, and Abigail, he turned to leave. Something made him stop, though, a familiar humming he hadn't heard in decades.
Foxy's humming.
And then a hook came crashing through the front window, snagged Toy Bonnie around the throat, and the Schmidt living room descended into chaos.
In the confusion, he'd barely managed to get away. Mike had proven himself a nuisance, one that had foiled Michael's plans and his father's before him, and stolen his sister. He would watch Mike Schmidt, dead man walking, he decided. He needed to figure out what drove the man, both in the literal 'keeping him alive' sense, and the metaphorical. What did his sister see in a living corpse that he, that his father, didn't have? Why had she chosen him over her own blood?