❝ There, are you happy? Enjoying the freak show? ❞ ( for ciar, from mike asdfjsdakhajl / @ladyseidr )
" there , are you happy ? enjoying the freak show ? "
[[ im sorry this may end up being . mostly unrelated to the reply itself but the concept of ciar and mike being coworkers at a fazbear establishment when will isnt around (be it because hes like Gone gone or just not there to supervise them) is so fucking funny to me. just. the fact that mike has to deal with ciar, too, now. ciars just as batshit (affectionate) as will except ciar actually wants to be mikes friend so its just like. such a strange situation for the two of them to navigate even without the whole. murderous animatronic side of things being factored in. its just a mess. also the timeline for this may or may not make sense im not entirely sure i just kinda got an idea and ran with it . this also may not make sense with the prompt but uhhh fuck it we ball i wrote way too much of this to go back now
also apologies this has been mostly finished in the bottom of my drafts for so long . figured it would be easy enough to finish up and toss out while i try and get back into the swing of things.
EDIT ITS BEEN A YEAR AND A HALF WHAT DO YOU MEAN I NEVER POSTED THIS. i am sooooo good at running this blog are you kidding me (/sar) (this is literally SO old. i dont care . its sitting here finished so i am going to post it . i havent posted anything in forever this will have to do.) ]]
-- [ asked by @ladyseidr ] --
Ciarán had to stifle a bemused huff at the comment, turning away under the guise of checking out the door with his flashlight to hide his smile. "Freak show? What, y'mean like this isn't just a regular Tuesday night for you? 'S really not that bad, y'know." ...Famous last words, of course. Not that bad. Yeah, right. As if getting stuck in this stupid restaurant together for the next few hours wasn't enough, the central power to the building had decided to crap out on them, and now he and Michael were stuck in the Parts and Service room, trying to fix it. Well– Michael was trying to fix it, fiddling with the breaker box on the wall, because Michael actually knew what he was doing. Ciarán got stuck on guard duty because he was a moron and would probably only make it worse if he laid hands on the thing.
Despite the fact that they'd shared quite a few shifts recently — mostly day shifts, they'd never been stuck on the same night shift together ... this was some kind of scheduling mishap, he figured — it'd never been ... Like this. Sure, the bots liked to wander around at night, and the tech in the building was iffy at best, but the power had never just shut off on them like it had a few minutes ago. Not without reason. They'd hardly even clocked in before it shut down this time, and, well ... he hadn't gotten that substantial of a look at the breakers before he'd been stationed at the door, but he was pretty sure that a tripped breaker or two wouldn't have resulted in those wires being practically ripped out of the wall like that. Something was wrong, tonight, and, well — he feared he knew exactly why.
He'd had a close call with one of the animatronics at the end of his shift last night. Not just the typical, y'know, one of them wandered too close to his office type deal, but ... he'd been on his way out the door, past the robots that had returned to their stage — y'know, shut down, like they were supposed to be every morning, charging up a bit before their first performances later in the day — when one of them had... Noticed him, for lack of a better word. The rabbit– it had somehow dragged itself out of rest mode and was ... staring at him. It liked to stare, he knew it did, had seen it on the cameras countless times, but this was different. Worse. It was tracking his movements through the room, jaw hanging open, emitting some kind of droning hum, and, well– Ciarán hadn't known what to make of it at the time, just taking it as his cue to get the fuck out of there, but now he thinks he knows what that was.
He'd never been quite sure if these four were the same models from the old location, if they were the same ones that–
Well. You know the story. And, considering all that, and the absolute shit that he and Michael were stuck in right now, he was getting the impression that they did, too.
He really, really hoped he was wrong. They were just robots, right? Just mechanical parts. Mechanical parts under a plush shell that surely couldn't hold any kind of grudge against him for — any reasons in particular. They didn't work like that. They did what they were programmed to do and nothing else. They didn't have the mind to want to do anything else. Surely there was some other explanation for why he felt eyes watching him from the shadows, why he couldn't seem to catch any of the 'bots in the beam of his flashlight no matter how hard he tried to follow the sound of their heavy footsteps.
This was no freak show — just some kind of malfunction. Or maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. They'd get the power back on in no time and all would be well, they'd be able to finish their shift and part ways safe and sound. There was no reason for him to believe otherwise. None, save for those memories tucked away in the back of his mind, the guilt prickling at the back of his neck. Not guilt as in shame, of course — there was no remorse here — but as in blame. He knew what he and William did, and he didn't regret it one bit.
The only thing he truly regretted was the fact that he couldn't inform the kid of his suspicions. It would be the smart thing to do, for his safety, at least, to tell him what he knew, but ... that was a part of his past that only he and one other person knew of, and it was going to stay that way. It wasn't something he could just tell Michael about. Not if he wanted the kid to cooperate with him, not if he wanted any hope of keeping them both safe.
His hand tightened around the flashlight, staving away the nervous tremors that had attempted to make themselves known. Despite his blasé humor, his attempts to act like he wasn't affected by the situation– this was quite literally a nightmare scenario for him. Not only was his past catching up to him, but of course Michael was there while it happened. Damn it, he liked the kid. Had come to see him as a friend, even. He didn't want him to be caught up in all this. ( He had no clue how deeply entwined with it all he already was, how he was already as much of a target in the eyes of the monsters in the halls as Ciarán himself was. Placing all the blame upon himself, where it should've been, instead of where they put it, he could never realize how severely he and William's actions had affected the boy's life. Continued to affect it. All due to an unfortunate resemblance, some children's foggy memories... If he'd known what his actions were going to cause, well– things might not have been different, but he certainly would've been more careful, at the very least. )
"Would you hurry up with that?" An edge to his tone — not quite snapping at the boy, but, well ... he'd managed to sufficiently psych himself out about the whole situation. Gone were his attempts at staying cool. To say it was all making him a little tense would be an understatement. "Not to rush you or anything — but I think I lost track of the purple one. So. Pardon me 'f I'd like to get back to the office. You know, the one place in this godforsaken building with doors that can actually keep those things out? Yeah. Safe to say I'm not a fan of being out here." Sorry, Mikey. This isn't your fault. Ciar's just losing his mind a little. Don't take it too hard.
