INBOXtext / audio / video / actionThank you for calling Freddy Fazbear's Family Fun Center! We are regrettably unable to answer your call at this very moment, due to unforseen circumstances such as satisfying customer expectations, animatronic maintenance, or taming unruly ghosts in the rafters. Please leave a detailed message about your compliment or complaint, as well as your name and contact information, and we will contact you at our earliest convenience, if we deem your message deserving of a response in the first place. Thank you for calling, and have a Faz-tastic day!art creditcode credit
[ as soon as she's in, the heavy security door slams shut. Mike's leaning against the wall, clearly counting down the seconds on his Freddy Fazbear™ wristwatch. shame. five more seconds and he could've gotten out of all this. ]
You're really fucking stubborn, you know that?
[ the office is tacky, cluttered ... the fewer questions asked, the better. and there's always Helpy standing on the desk, waving excitedly at his new friend when she arrives. ]
[Rather predictably, Gen spins around with her lighter struck the moment that door slams into place, but she doesn't actually make any move to attack. He did that just to creep her out, didn't he? Asshole...
Gingerly closing and pocketing her lighter, Gen turns and gives the office a slow once-over before stepping in deeper.]
Yeah, and you're really fucking weird.
[All the empty-eyed animatronic heads make her skin crawl. She actually starts to reach out toward the Fredbear torso before withdrawing her hand with a frisson of fear, but then it occurs to her how much satisfaction she probably just gave Mike with that movement so she gives it a light shove and turns her back on it.]
This place is a... [Her gaze falls on Helpy and she just looks slightly pained that one of them should be so cute. Not today, Satan.] ... scratch nightmare, this place is a fucking fever dream.
[ noooo waaaay, the guy with purple skin wearing a paper bear mask and an "Eggs Benedict" nametag is weird? perish the thought. ]
Were I a normal human being, you'd be long gone by now.
[ Helpy, regardless of any situation, always looks ecastic and eager to prove his namesake. the tiny dumbfaced robobear looks over at his creator, and Mike - resigning himself to this accursed fate for the hundredth time that day - gestures vaguely towards the desk. and Helpy takes that as his cue to go dig out what Gen is here for out of an old, dusty file folder from a stack on the desk. give him a minute, it's a lot of old paperwork here. ]
Try not to get too excited. [ adding, begrudgingly. ] I wasn't in many family photos, so this is all I have. And I'm this close to tossing it in the shredder.
... yeah, you're right. [She probably doesn't mean it the way that he does, but it's still true. She'd have no interest in him at all, of any kind, if he were just a random 50 year old dude who owns a creepy kid's restaurant.] And be honest, you're flattered I want to know anything about you. It gives your sad old ego a little stroke.
[Watching Helpy chug around the desk so cheerfully just makes Gen look even more pained - she's obviously, visibly fighting the urge to be charmed by him, like an anti-cat person coping with a kitten curled up asleep in their lap. Appreciating cuteness is weakness and yet...]
"Family photos..." [Said with a slight mockery of his accent.] There's a concept. Did even shitty families take those back in the day? [If she sounds bitter, that's because she is - for all the evidence that Michael's father was an absolute monster, at least he apparently got his family together to take nice pictures. That means he must have wanted someone in the family around.]
[ just because she's right doesn't mean he has to admit to it. ]
Hmph. [ just a non-committal grumble in response. begrudgingly okay sure she's tolerable and maybe it's kind of nice to talk to someone who'll talk back that isn't spouting pre-recorded family friendly catchphrases or gargled ghostly screaming and chanting it's me it's me it's me-- but that's all besides the point, which is she's rude and annoying and makes fun of the way he speaks. which is rude. and annoying. ]
They do when they have a public image to maintain. [ which was always dear ol' dad's highest priority, and that meant that Mike hated it. on top of everything else he hated about the man. so it's no surprise that when Helpy finally does dig out a wrinkled, faded scrap of something and bounds over excitedly to Gen to show her, it's ... well. ]
... [ sighs. just get it over with. ] Well, have fun with that.
[Gen almost, almost thanks Helpy as she takes the picture, but then she gets a hold of herself. It's a robot. She's not letting herself get sucked into the madness here.
The picture itself causes her eyebrows to shoot up, and she glances back and forth between it and Mike in his current form several times.] Huh. So I was right. [With that cryptic statement, she hands the picture back to Helpy and gives Mike an innocent smile.]
[ Mike tilts his head back against the wall, rolling his odd purple eyes while Helpy takes the mugshot back to put it back where he got it from. this is the worst. this is the absolute worst. she's doing this on purpose just to piss him off. he knows that, she knows he knows that. nothing good can come from this. whatever she'd say, whatever she's thinking, it's only going to further frustrate and annoy him. and yet.
[He's so wonderfully predictable sometimes. Gen can't help but laugh at the high drama of his response, but there's something... not quite kind, but at least a bit warmer in the sound of it. Or maybe just more genuine, not so much for effect as usual.]
I was just thinking awhile back, that based on... what's left of your face, you probably weren't bad looking before all that shit happened. 'Cause I mean, all fuckin' things considered, you're still not bad.
[If Mike showed any arrogance about his appearance, present or past, Gen would roll her eyes and leave. If Mike got really weird about the compliments, something like explosive rage or sadness or any huge emotional reaction, Gen would leave out of pure self-preservation instinct.
But instead he gets quiet and flustered and then flatly tries to usher her out, and that actually stirs up a somewhat warm feeling inside her. Lashing out at kindness is understandable (and more her style, if she's honest), but just bluescreening because it's so unfamiliar is a bit heart-wrenching.]
I could. [She brushes aside some food wrappers on his desk to make room for her to sit, one leg crossed demurely over the other. Did she actually expect to make this offer when she came into his office? Not really, but she has to admit that the possibility was on her mind - honestly, the possibility is what started this whole thing.
She doesn't wear seduction all that comfortably but at least she knows she has youth and attractiveness on her side. They're just things that she's had to protect for most of her life, not offer.]
I could leave, but I gotta say, you don't have much imagination when it comes to what I could do here.
[ Mike's not an idiot. he knows what she's aiming for, what she's trying to get at - just because his body's dead, doesn't mean his mind is. and it's not as though Gen's the only one who'd ever used their looks to their advantage. it's just been considerably longer since Mike has (and that was a habit he quickly fell out of once the whole "you look so much like your father!" thing started gaining traction.)
he makes a mental note to take apart Helpy later. those candy wrappers certainly aren't Mike's. little shit. ]
I have plenty of imagination. [ bitter? incredibly. this isn't fair. ]
And I have no use of your "services." [ he nods towards the office door, scowling, arms crossed. there isn't much bite to his words, though. true, he's still taken aback by the whole ... this. it's left him a fair bit unsettled and awkward. the only thing he really knows how to do in this situation is to be an ass about it. ] Get the fuck out of my office.
[Ooooh, that choice of word. "Services." It's so obviously deliberate and yet it crawls right under Gen's skin, prickling with the familiar heat that demands retaliation in the form of flames. She balls her hands up so tight that her nails carve the shape of half-moons into her skin and reminds herself that she's got a sweet deal here, that the only other options are homelessness or back to Xavier's, weighing Mike's life and livelihood against her wounded pride with all that unhinged rage as plain as day on her face.]
I've got some bad fucking news for you, Mike. [Her voice is thin and hoarse from the strain of keeping herself together. She climbs down off the desk and storms right up to him but stops just short of jabbing a finger against his chest - pointing will be good enough, she thinks. He doesn't deserve any contact at all.] All this... isn't what's keeping you from getting fucked. Enjoy knowing from this point forward that it's all your fault, and bitching about it really does make you no better than an incel.
[She needs to burn something. She needs to burn something.]
I'm leaving for awhile. Lock me out and I burn this place to the fuckin' ground, then pin it on you in case you really are part cockroach.
[Okay. With that said, she can walk out of the office and head for the service door of the restaurant. She's saved enough face.]
['Wasting your time', says the voice behind him. It certainly seems that way, with a swing and miss going on the scoreboard. The sounds that greet the attempt don't seem friendly. Must there be trouble? Can't we all just get along? Warren puts on hand on his hip, looking at the bunny. He then makes a second attempt, except he merely sticks his other hand inside the image to wiggle his fingers like a child in a sandpit. Hm. It's cold.]
I imagined you had tried,
[Perplexed, disappointed, but not exhaustively surprised, Warren turns back to face the weary voice.]
but I am not you.
[It was a slim chance anything would happen but hey, it cost nothing to try.]
Well, who wants to go first? Step up, don't be shy!
[This is loudly addressed to any and all spirits, Warren turning in a slow circle like a ringmaster.]
this is my only mildly concerning child spirits icon
[ far more times than he could ever count. punch, kick, tear at, scream until he just couldn't anymore. the fucking thing never moves. just stands there. honks. he hates it so much. he's never truly going to escape him. a curse far worse than being stuck in his own dead body forever, for sure.
"i am not you," sure rub it in. you're still in my head, fuckwit. he'll sit back and watch, like usual. see what happens when one of the littler ones approaches. or at least, he watches for as long as he can, which isn't very long before he's ducking his head down in his arms. hard to look.
the weepy little spirit draws closer to the headspace stranger, ever so curious. they're just as quiet as honky shadow rabbit over there, only speaking in whispers. asking why is he here, are you with the bad man, we're watching the rabbit together. why are you here? ]
[Warren might've said that but it wasn't intended to hurt him. Different approaches make for the best strategy meeting. If at first you don't succeed try something new, fool! Or in this case, someone new.
The wee one is brave, and Warren says so. Among other child-appropriate praise. How good they are to keep Eggs company when he feels sad. How strong and kind to stay together. I want to help, he says in a whisper like theirs, because my bad, scary father made me play with sweet children just like you, too.
If he can touch these heartbreaking siblings Warren will sit on the floor and gather them up in his arms like puppies. He can't exorcise these ghosts. He doesn't know if this commiseration is all for nothing.]
Have I ever told you about the time I devoured my sire?
[Casual. A fishing pond story, from the tone of his voice. A storybook reading, nothing more.]
[ oh, no no, no no they whisper. the purple man is bad too. they aren't here to keep him company, they're not watching over him. they're making sure he knows what he did, too. they're making sure he never forgets, never gets his final rest, never a moment's peace. because they're always there.
eggsy might've become used to their presence by now, after thirty some-odd years. but he still flinches at the reminder, still hides his face in something so much stronger than shame. genuinely wishing he had a stomach to throw up with. such as it is.
but, enough about eggs. the brave (so brave!) one gathers close first, appearing to sit on the checkerboard tile floor below, though it's more of a ... floating-sit. slowly, the others begin to approach as well. there's seven of them in total. five of them surround the stranger, eager to listen to storytime. the other two remain hovering closer around ol' eggsy in the back, their shapes a little more defined than the five amorphous ones. familiarity, it seems. but ignore them. tell the little ones the story. they haven't had storytime in years. ]
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INBOX
text / audio / video / action
Thank you for calling Freddy Fazbear's Family Fun Center! We are regrettably unable to answer your call at this very moment, due to unforseen circumstances such as satisfying customer expectations, animatronic maintenance, or taming unruly ghosts in the rafters. Please leave a detailed message about your compliment or complaint, as well as your name and contact information, and we will contact you at our earliest convenience, if we deem your message deserving of a response in the first place. Thank you for calling, and have a Faz-tastic day!
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and i always want something more when someone tries to withhold it so you might as well make this easier on yourself
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any around the restaurant?
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If I show you, you have to shut up about it for the rest of the century.
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deal!
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Office. If you're not here in 15 seconds the door's locking and you'll miss your chance
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[She's there in 10, peering in with uncharacteristic caution before taking a step inside.]
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You're really fucking stubborn, you know that?
[ the office is tacky, cluttered ... the fewer questions asked, the better. and there's always Helpy standing on the desk, waving excitedly at his new friend when she arrives. ]
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Gingerly closing and pocketing her lighter, Gen turns and gives the office a slow once-over before stepping in deeper.]
Yeah, and you're really fucking weird.
[All the empty-eyed animatronic heads make her skin crawl. She actually starts to reach out toward the Fredbear torso before withdrawing her hand with a frisson of fear, but then it occurs to her how much satisfaction she probably just gave Mike with that movement so she gives it a light shove and turns her back on it.]
This place is a... [Her gaze falls on Helpy and she just looks slightly pained that one of them should be so cute. Not today, Satan.] ... scratch nightmare, this place is a fucking fever dream.
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Were I a normal human being, you'd be long gone by now.
[ Helpy, regardless of any situation, always looks ecastic and eager to prove his namesake. the tiny dumbfaced robobear looks over at his creator, and Mike - resigning himself to this accursed fate for the hundredth time that day - gestures vaguely towards the desk. and Helpy takes that as his cue to go dig out what Gen is here for out of an old, dusty file folder from a stack on the desk. give him a minute, it's a lot of old paperwork here. ]
Try not to get too excited. [ adding, begrudgingly. ] I wasn't in many family photos, so this is all I have. And I'm this close to tossing it in the shredder.
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[Watching Helpy chug around the desk so cheerfully just makes Gen look even more pained - she's obviously, visibly fighting the urge to be charmed by him, like an anti-cat person coping with a kitten curled up asleep in their lap. Appreciating cuteness is weakness and yet...]
"Family photos..." [Said with a slight mockery of his accent.] There's a concept. Did even shitty families take those back in the day? [If she sounds bitter, that's because she is - for all the evidence that Michael's father was an absolute monster, at least he apparently got his family together to take nice pictures. That means he must have wanted someone in the family around.]
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Hmph. [ just a non-committal grumble in response. begrudgingly okay sure she's tolerable and maybe it's kind of nice to talk to someone who'll talk back that isn't spouting pre-recorded family friendly catchphrases or gargled ghostly screaming and chanting it's me it's me it's me-- but that's all besides the point, which is she's rude and annoying and makes fun of the way he speaks. which is rude. and annoying. ]
They do when they have a public image to maintain. [ which was always dear ol' dad's highest priority, and that meant that Mike hated it. on top of everything else he hated about the man. so it's no surprise that when Helpy finally does dig out a wrinkled, faded scrap of something and bounds over excitedly to Gen to show her, it's ... well. ]
... [ sighs. just get it over with. ] Well, have fun with that.
[ yeah, it's a mugshot.
funny how he looked dead behind the eyes even before he was actually dead, huh. ]
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The picture itself causes her eyebrows to shoot up, and she glances back and forth between it and Mike in his current form several times.] Huh. So I was right. [With that cryptic statement, she hands the picture back to Helpy and gives Mike an innocent smile.]
That wasn't so hard, was it?
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...
[ this is the worst. ]
... ugh.
[ Mike tilts his head back against the wall, rolling his odd purple eyes while Helpy takes the mugshot back to put it back where he got it from. this is the worst. this is the absolute worst. she's doing this on purpose just to piss him off. he knows that, she knows he knows that. nothing good can come from this. whatever she'd say, whatever she's thinking, it's only going to further frustrate and annoy him. and yet.
and yet. ]
Right about what.
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I was just thinking awhile back, that based on... what's left of your face, you probably weren't bad looking before all that shit happened. 'Cause I mean, all fuckin' things considered, you're still not bad.
And I was right. You were hot as fuck.
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but leave it to Michael to be a jerk about it in the end. he does eventually respond, deadpan, somewhat dumbfounded. annoyed all the same. ]
Gee. Thanks.
[ compliments are weird, okay. ]
You can leave now.
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But instead he gets quiet and flustered and then flatly tries to usher her out, and that actually stirs up a somewhat warm feeling inside her. Lashing out at kindness is understandable (and more her style, if she's honest), but just bluescreening because it's so unfamiliar is a bit heart-wrenching.]
I could. [She brushes aside some food wrappers on his desk to make room for her to sit, one leg crossed demurely over the other. Did she actually expect to make this offer when she came into his office? Not really, but she has to admit that the possibility was on her mind - honestly, the possibility is what started this whole thing.
She doesn't wear seduction all that comfortably but at least she knows she has youth and attractiveness on her side. They're just things that she's had to protect for most of her life, not offer.]
I could leave, but I gotta say, you don't have much imagination when it comes to what I could do here.
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he makes a mental note to take apart Helpy later. those candy wrappers certainly aren't Mike's. little shit. ]
I have plenty of imagination. [ bitter? incredibly. this isn't fair. ]
And I have no use of your "services." [ he nods towards the office door, scowling, arms crossed. there isn't much bite to his words, though. true, he's still taken aback by the whole ... this. it's left him a fair bit unsettled and awkward. the only thing he really knows how to do in this situation is to be an ass about it. ] Get the fuck out of my office.
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I've got some bad fucking news for you, Mike. [Her voice is thin and hoarse from the strain of keeping herself together. She climbs down off the desk and storms right up to him but stops just short of jabbing a finger against his chest - pointing will be good enough, she thinks. He doesn't deserve any contact at all.] All this... isn't what's keeping you from getting fucked. Enjoy knowing from this point forward that it's all your fault, and bitching about it really does make you no better than an incel.
[She needs to burn something. She needs to burn something.]
I'm leaving for awhile. Lock me out and I burn this place to the fuckin' ground, then pin it on you in case you really are part cockroach.
[Okay. With that said, she can walk out of the office and head for the service door of the restaurant. She's saved enough face.]
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infodump sorry
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capcha escape
['Wasting your time', says the voice behind him. It certainly seems that way, with a swing and miss going on the scoreboard. The sounds that greet the attempt don't seem friendly. Must there be trouble? Can't we all just get along? Warren puts on hand on his hip, looking at the bunny. He then makes a second attempt, except he merely sticks his other hand inside the image to wiggle his fingers like a child in a sandpit. Hm. It's cold.]
I imagined you had tried,
[Perplexed, disappointed, but not exhaustively surprised, Warren turns back to face the weary voice.]
but I am not you.
[It was a slim chance anything would happen but hey, it cost nothing to try.]
Well, who wants to go first? Step up, don't be shy!
[This is loudly addressed to any and all spirits, Warren turning in a slow circle like a ringmaster.]
this is my only mildly concerning child spirits icon
"i am not you," sure rub it in. you're still in my head, fuckwit. he'll sit back and watch, like usual. see what happens when one of the littler ones approaches. or at least, he watches for as long as he can, which isn't very long before he's ducking his head down in his arms. hard to look.
the weepy little spirit draws closer to the headspace stranger, ever so curious. they're just as quiet as honky shadow rabbit over there, only speaking in whispers. asking why is he here, are you with the bad man, we're watching the rabbit together. why are you here? ]
omg babies~ -w-
The wee one is brave, and Warren says so. Among other child-appropriate praise. How good they are to keep Eggs company when he feels sad. How strong and kind to stay together. I want to help, he says in a whisper like theirs, because my bad, scary father made me play with sweet children just like you, too.
If he can touch these heartbreaking siblings Warren will sit on the floor and gather them up in his arms like puppies. He can't exorcise these ghosts. He doesn't know if this commiseration is all for nothing.]
Have I ever told you about the time I devoured my sire?
[Casual. A fishing pond story, from the tone of his voice. A storybook reading, nothing more.]
they just need a lil nap and some vengeance
eggsy might've become used to their presence by now, after thirty some-odd years. but he still flinches at the reminder, still hides his face in something so much stronger than shame. genuinely wishing he had a stomach to throw up with. such as it is.
but, enough about eggs. the brave (so brave!) one gathers close first, appearing to sit on the checkerboard tile floor below, though it's more of a ... floating-sit. slowly, the others begin to approach as well. there's seven of them in total. five of them surround the stranger, eager to listen to storytime. the other two remain hovering closer around ol' eggsy in the back, their shapes a little more defined than the five amorphous ones. familiarity, it seems. but ignore them. tell the little ones the story. they haven't had storytime in years. ]