A/N: A few quick but important notes before you begin reading: this fanfic is based on the theory that Michael Afton has been the security guard throughout the FNAF series. Even though he was Scooped during Sister Location, he was still shown to be "alive" at the end (though in a pretty sad state), and many people believe that he is the one who has been trying to free all the children's souls trapped in animatronics throughout the years, via taking on the job of a night guard at various Fazbear's Pizza locations. Of course, as with all theories, this story is based on just that- a theory. Some things within this story have not been 100% proven to be true, but they hold up within this particular universe.

To that end, think of this story as a novelization of FNAF 6, with lots of extra content added in! Thank you for checking out this fanfic, and I hope you enjoy!

The End

Chapter 1: Go Back

"A franchise owner?" Michael croaked in disbelief, holding the digital advertisement on the phone close to his face. Though he could still see better than he should be able to in his current state of being, his eyesight had definitely suffered a bit over the years.

"A franchise... owner," he repeated softly, throwing the phone onto the coffee table and placing his face in his hands. The table served as one of the only pieces of furniture in the tiny apartment he called "home-" a two-room dwelling, counting the bathroom as a separate room, with the barest of kitchens, a couch, and the tiny coffee table for company.

Michael had no need for a bed. When he rarely did need to rest, the couch served that purpose. Like the rest of his life, if one could call it that, his apartment was bare. No food; he had no need to eat. No pictures or decorations on the wall; he had no need for menial physical possessions. The only thing connecting him to the outside world besides the door itself was the phone that he kept on him at all times. It was his source for news and a way to keep up with whatever idiotic soap operas caught his attention that day.

By all logical accounts, he should have died long ago. His job was complete; he had freed the young, helpless souls trapped inside the animatronics and gotten rid of the monster responsible for those decades of torment. And, while he could never truly atone for the atrocity he committed as a naïve child, he felt as though he had done the best he could. However, something was still keeping him on Earth. He had been living in this apartment, waiting to be set free, rarely leaving for fear of how he would react to the outside world… and how the world would react to him.

Day after day, night after night, waiting and waiting.

Finally, it seemed he had his answer. That god-forsaken pizza franchise had been brought back from the depths of hell yet again. And if Michael was still there, then he knew it meant that someone else was lurking in the shadows, too.

Taking as deep a breath he could with his shriveled lungs, Michael reached for the phone and began to dial the number on the advert.

Unbelievable, he thought, closing his eyes as the grating sound of a telephone ring stabbed into his mind. They were freed, and he should be dead. He should be dead. Unless-

"Hello?" a low, measured voice on the other end of the phone said. Michael cleared his throat and did his best to speak in an understandable tone.

"Hello, yes, I… I'm interested in be… becoming a…" Take it slow, Mike, you'll get the words out if you try hard enough. "Becoming a… franchise owner."

"Ah, yes," the voice on the line said tiredly. "It is a very easy process, regardless of whether you have experience in owning a business or not. What sort of background do you have?"

"Never an owner… but I…" Michael paused again, closing his eyes, running the words over in his mind. After years of deterioration, his voice did not work as well as it once had. He was thankful that he could still talk in the barest sense, although even saying hello was sometimes a chore. "I used to… work in… in the Fazbear chain. From the… early days."

The voice on the phone was deathly silent. Michael began to wonder if something happened to the man, when he finally said, slowly: "…What is your name, Sir?"

"Michael," he admitted without shame. After all this time, Michael was tired of the aliases. He would make up a last name when prompted, but after so many failed attempts to make things right, he had a sort of dark hope that using his real name would prompt something in the universe to happen in his favor. The man on the phone was silent for another few beats.

"Welcome to the Fazbear family, Michael," the voice finally said. Michael could swear he heard the remnants of a sad smile lingering in the man's tone, but was not entirely sure. "No need to worry about finding a place to set up shop; I already have a location that I think would be perfect for you."

"Oh, that's… that's very kind… of you," Michael responded, taken aback.

"Please, there is absolutely no need to thank me." The voice on the phone gave a sad laugh.

"Don't I need to... at least have a... a phone interview, or something?" Michael frowned. "This is... really sudden."

Michael was, understandably, a bit wary- why was this man offering so much? In his lifelong experience with the franchise, those behind Fazbear Entertainment took whatever measures necessary to cut as many corners as they could. Giving a free starting location when it was not explicitly promised in the advertisement was far out of generosity's range for these people.

"Our goal is to open up new franchises as soon as possible, and we believe that training to be an owner should be a part of the experience," the man on the phone responded with an air of practiced ease, though his words did not make much sense. "Now, is this a good number to reach you at?"

"...Yes," Michael finally admitted. It seemed as though the conversation was at its end, and he did not want to push his luck after getting such a startling opportunity. "Call me… anytime."

"Alright; you will be hearing from me very, very soon." There was another short pause, and then the man added, softly: "I hope that this job gives you everything you desire, Michael. We will speak again shortly."

"What?" Michael questioned, but before he could utter another word, the line went dead.

Odd… But certainly not the strangest thing I've heard in my life by far.

Putting the phone back on the coffee table, Michael leaned back against the couch and stared up at the dingy ceiling. Hopefully, setting out on this new business venture would give him the answer to why he still lingered on Earth, long after his body had ceased to be of proper use.

Frankly, when he was Scooped decades ago, he should have been dead on the spot. But, to his dismay, something caused his soul to stay, even as his boy was piloted around like a puppet. Even when his body was released from its foreign control, the core of Michael's being remained, tied to what was now nothing more than the literal shell of a man.

Soon afterwards, he understood his purpose. He had failed in his first attempt to right his family's wrongs- both his father's and his own. But, as the years went on and Michael's body stopped its rapid decay to settle in the state of a semi-lifeless corpse, he knew that he would not be set free until he accomplished his original mission: to save the souls of all the children taken away by the carelessness of a wicked man, and the soul of a boy destroyed by his brother's own naïveté.

Michael thought the torment would be over a few years prior, after confronting his father and playing a twisted game of red light, green light. Once Fazbear's Fright burned down, it should have been all done. Michael felt the four remaining souls leave for a better plane of existence, and he swore he felt his father's soul go in the opposite direction.

But, he should have known better. Nothing was ever that easy.

After dwelling things over and over again, he was almost certain that his father had survived. There might even be more children to free, more lost souls desperately looking for a way out. Maybe, with the purchase of his very own Fazbear Entertainment franchise, Michael would finally be able to send his father to the depths of hell where he belonged and get some much-needed peace of his own. Judging by the man on the phone's tone of voice, however, he knew that this job would prove to be much harder then he initially anticipated.

Still, the only thing he could do was try again.