The Bond

Ch 7

"Bold." : animatronic is talking

"Normal." : human is talking

=o^o=

The last few days Michael had focused solely on studying the parts of the skeleton commonly used for animatronics, racking his brains so he could modify the skeleton to work with him. To himself. The one and only Afton tirelessly ransacked his father's office and even the entire house to find out if there were any other records about the endoskeleton.

It's not easy to understand a lot of information at once, Michael did it slowly so that the brain in his head doesn't explode with foreign vocabulary found in skeletal explanations in animatronics. In fact, he was so overjoyed that he had come up with the idea of ​​using an endoskeleton to support his body from the inside, that Michael was willing to make small talk with Ennard again—even trying to make jokes; Ennard didn't seem to have a sense of humor or was very unamused in Michael's stupid jokes.

Michael didn't care, he just needed to spend some time before he managed to create his own skeleton and fit it into the body.

For that matter, Ennard was no longer the only reason that could stop the rot from spreading.

Equipped with all the tools in the basement, as well as leftover materials, and even a series of clues on found papers, Michael thinks he can forgive all his father's past actions. Instead of understanding the entire material regarding the endoskeleton first, Michael tried to assemble it at the same time. So he was in the basement all day.

Of course it couldn't be done in one day, Michael failed several times—considering that he was so new to this sort of thing, Michael made up his mind and tried again from the beginning. Although it can be frustrating at times, Michael always motivates himself with what he will get if he succeeds.

There were no more parasites in his body, the snaking iron parasites that Michael considered a failed project in the past.

"Huh, I really am smart," Michael muttered under his breath, he looked with satisfaction at the small object lying on the surface of the table in front of him. He reminded himself not to be too complacent, he still had a lot of work to do, moreover his skills were not comparable to his father's shrewdness. Very disproportionate.

Michael ignored the strange voice that came from the ceiling, he knew who it was anyway. Michael grabbed the paper that had accidentally fallen due to the wind blowing from the fan that was running slowly, when he returned to his original position he almost jumped in surprise to find Ennard already standing at the other end of the table. Ennard's robotic blue eyes stared intently at Michael, before moving to the skeleton Michael had just made.

The whirring sound of an engine could be heard from Ennard, as if the animatronic was snorting and jeering wordlessly as if the 'endoskeleton that wasn't even half finished yet' was something that was extremely funny to him. Michael glanced briefly at Ennard, before looking back at the paper in his hand.

The heat of the engine running was faintly felt, Michael looked up and found Ennard hanging from the ceiling, close to where he was currently sitting. Ennard was still staring at him, Michael decided to ignore him again.

"Ah."

Ennard said in a slightly surprised tone, but Michael was shocked; black droplets fell and fell on the paper even the little skeleton.

"Ennard!" Michael cried out in panic, realizing the thick liquid was oil coming out of one of Ennard's parts. "Get out of there!" Michael ordered angrily, he tried to save the papers that had not been stained with oil.

Michael groaned in annoyance after Ennard did as he was told because now some of the sentences and instructions were covered in oil and he could no longer read. The Afton was pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly, now he had to find a way out so he could get back to work.

"Even to the endoskeleton!"

"Oops?" Ennard said Michael ignored Ennard's low chuckle and sounded very satisfied. "You have to take it apart again," Ennard continued, successfully making Michael look up at him.

Michael's brow furrowed, "What?" he asked. However, Ennard only glanced at the inner frame, Michael followed Ennard's glance. "Why—"

"Your toys have to be dry when put together, or else," Ennard replied, the smile on his cracked white mask widening—or maybe it was just Michael's imagination because irritation had now taken hold of him and made him see Ennard flashing a mocking smile.

"Damn it!"

Michael slams the pile of papers on the table in frustration, while Ennard stares intensely at Michael again.