Chapter Text
Michael watched as the fire grew ever closer, feeling warmth finally swallowing his form. How long had it been since he’d been warm without having to wrap himself in dozens of blankets and coats? Probably since before he’d been scooped, at the very least. But now, here he was in a single layer feeling warm for the first time since his undeath.
A glance in the vent showed Molten Freddy looking back at him. Michael smiled as he felt their eyes scan over the surroundings behind him, checking for some kind of hidden door or passage. Yet despite that, when it found nothing, it moved on. Fire was licking at his limbs now, at dead skin and nerves that could no longer feel. He watched it creep up, eagerly feasting on the cotton of his shirt and his denim pants. He laughed and leaned back against his chair, listening to Henry’s final words repeating in his ears.
“Finally, it’s over,” he rasped. Michael wished for a moment that he could close his eyes. That his eyelids hadn’t rotted away and he could pretend he was just falling asleep.
He snorted to himself at the thought.
“Well if we’re making wishes,” he muttered to himself, still staring at the ceiling. He could hear more clanking and screeching through the vents, but he didn’t bother to look. Even if whatever was there did decide to kill him, he wouldn’t stay dead until the fire finally claimed his remnant ridden corpse. He flexed his jaw as he thought, mind flashing with stupid, childish wishes as the fire grew higher and hotter.
I wish William will burn in hell.
He didn’t really need to wish it, he’d already confirmed the bastard was going to burn right alongside the rest of them. He was stuck here now, waiting for his inescapable demise. Michael wondered if that wasn’t poetic irony. That William had to die twice and both of them gave him enough time to understand what was happening yet do nothing but wait for it to end. After all, even if humans bled out fairly quickly, springlock failure wasn’t exactly a quick death despite everything. William had probably had to sit there in agony, waiting for the blood loss or costume head to finally finish him off. And now, he was doing it again, waiting for the fire to consume him.
Michael absently flicked through the cameras, spotting burning rooms with several animatronics running around trying desperately to find ways out. Too bad the entire place was built to be a death trap. Their death trap specifically.
He paused, eyes catching on the sight of Scrap Baby trying to force a wall back open even as she began to melt and fall apart. His sister wasn’t looking at the cameras as Michael sighed and turned off the computer.
I wish Elizabeth went peacefully.
He had a feeling she wouldn’t.
That instead she would push against the walls, fighting to escape. Elizabeth had never liked being locked in one place for too long. Michael wasn’t sure if that was something she’d displayed before her death or if it was something that developed after so long trapped in Circus Baby’s Rentals.
Probably the latter if he thought about it.
His dead heart throbbed, and he winced. Elizabeth had died so young. All of them had, and Michael couldn’t blame them for wanting to escape, for wanting to live outside. To be free and happy like they used to be, rather than being forcibly shuttled from place to place.
Even when they used him like a human meat suit, Michael hadn’t truly hated them. They were understandable. Perhaps not relatable, but he didn’t blame them for wanting more out of life. Hadn’t he wanted the same once?
Michael shook his head, dispelling the thoughts and looking around. His eyes fell on Helpy, currently melting into scorched plastic and thin wires from the heat. Michael stared at the bear. Henry had given it to him, designed Helpy to be an assistant in running the place. That didn’t mean Michael was oblivious to the psychologically probing questions Helpy might ask, or the genuine advice he shared.
Henry, good old Henry, still trying to look out for Michael by giving him a therapist teddy bear. The man was truly a saint compared to William. Of course, he was really only here because William killed Charlie, otherwise he wouldn’t be present and probably burning alive right alongside the rest of them.
I wish Henry and Charlie would see each other in heaven.
He figured they would. Charlie would almost definitely end up in heaven. She’d tried so hard to help and protect all the other kids, even if it hadn’t ended well with the whole turning-into-animatronics-that-William-stuffed-their-corpses-in thing. And Henry, although he wasn’t perfect, was a kind man doing his best to right a wrong, to finally put this all to rest. Yeah, Michael had a feeling the two would see each other again wherever they ended up.
A feeling of weight lifting from his arm drew his attention back to himself. Michael studied where his hand had just fallen off, the remnant inside leaking out as the flesh blackened and burned. Even if he couldn’t really feel it, that didn’t mean that Michael himself wasn’t still burning alive.
I wish they would visit me, wherever I end up.
Ah yes, where would Michael end up? Personally Michael himself still felt like he’d be joining William down below. This whole mess had started with him, didn’t it? He’d been the one to lift Evan higher, to put his little brother into Freddy’s mouth. This all spiralled from there, as his mother and father lost themselves to grief. If Michael hadn’t murdered his brother, maybe none of the other murders would have happened.
Henry had disagreed when Michael told him. Said that Michael had been doing everything he could to fix it since then. That he was still trying to right the wrong and prevent William from hurting any other kid.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it?
Fixing something doesn’t mean that it didn’t happen.
Michael would never be able to make up for his brother’s death. He’d been a stupid teenager. It was just supposed to be a malicious prank, rather mean spirited but no real harm intended. He’d known Evan was scared of the animatronics. As a kid, he couldn’t understand it for the life of him, but maybe Evan had seen something. Maybe he’d heard of a springlock failure or something, and since then had been terrified.
Michael never knew why he was scared, just that he was. And it was supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be a joke.
Then Fredbear’s jaw had closed.
There’d been so much blood.
No, Michael wasn’t worthy of going to heaven, not with his brother’s blood on his hands. And his face, his arms, his chest, his-
Michael sighed as he felt his leg fall off, leaning back in his seat. He stared at the ceiling. Well, he was making stupid, impossible wishes anyways.
“I wish I could undo this, make it so it never happened.”
Michael didn’t say another word as fire consumed him, his vision finally, blissfully going black.