Inside Job (FNAF: SB Rewrite)

Chapter 29 - Return to the Pizzaplex

"Interesting thought," the blue ink said, "but remember; you are not your father! Your DNA isn't identical. You're your own person."

That wasn't the point , I thought to myself. If Michael was really talking about his dad, he's upset that he must be related to him, not that they're similar. I didn't know much about his dad, but I did know that Michael resented him. Maybe he was William.

"Who do you think is the blue?" Bowtie asked me. I shrugged, "I have no idea."

I flipped through the pages some more, looking for the most compelling entries. Most of them were him ranting about his job or normal day activities. Apparently he now worked in IT, specifically customer service. Seems like he spends his time answering phone calls and helping with technological interruptions. It fit him well, considering his previous work as the designer behind the animatronics, but according to his accounts he didn't like interacting with people all that much. He felt like most of them were judging him all the time, but "it pays the bills," he said.

Then I found a drawing that took up most of the page. It was a hillside with gravestones and names etched into them. "I wish I could visit like I used to," Michael wrote. "Their bodies were never found, but their parents gave them this memorial anyways. They're so far away now. I still think of them every day."

"They're lucky to have you," the blue said. "I'm sure they're smiling down at you. If you ever get the chance to go back to Utah, I hope you visit. They'll appreciate it."

Well, he made it to Utah. I wondered if Michael had thought about going back to this gravesite during his trip, though that probably wasn't the first thing on his mind right now.

More useless life updates followed. One of his friend's dogs had a litter of puppies, and he thought about adopting one of them, but ultimately decided not to. He said it was too much work to take care of one. It's too bad, I would've loved it if he showed up with a dog. Though, I guess we wouldn't be able to bring it to the pizzaplex with us.

There was an almost entirely blank page that stood out. The only red ink on it was, "I couldn't get out of bed today. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," the blue ink said, "you deserve a break. But please don't forget to eat and drink."

The next page was long. It was a whole paragraph of Michael venting out his feelings. There was a doodle of Freddy at the bottom, but it didn't look like the Freddy I knew. It was terrifying to look at, with large teeth and sharp fingers. Its stomach had teeth that lined along it like a mouth. I didn't realize Michael was such an artist.

"I was sixteen when you died," Michael wrote. "It was your birthday, and Dad organized a party at Fredbear and Friends, despite your pleas not to. I thought it was pathetic how you'd hide in your room, crying to your Fredbear plushie as if it could understand you. I remember tearing off your toy Foxy's head as you yelled and screamed at me. You cried that he was bleeding, but it was just his white stuffing flowing. I emptied out his head and put it on in front of you. I'll admit it, I enjoyed terrorizing you."

Well, that's horrible , I thought to myself. Was this one of his siblings he was talking about? Michael had mentioned having a brother and a sister in his tapes, so I wasn't sure which he was talking to, but it must be one of them. Who does that to their sibling? It seemed unnecessarily cruel.

"For me, it was all fun and games," Michael continued. "It wasn't because I hated you or that I was insensitive. I was just your older brother, so of course I laughed at you, belittled you, and disbelieved you. Mom would try to get me to stop, but Dad would tell her that it was normal for brothers to fight like this."