The Bond

Ch 13

"Bold."/"Bold." : animatronic is talking/animatronic is talking in mind

"Normal."/"Normal." : human is talking/human is talking in mind

=o^o=

Ennard looked at the Afton who was struggling with the small parts of the animatronic frame from inside the vent. Not a part of him, of course. Michael found the items from his father's warehouse, there was still plenty left but Michael needed fewer materials than the others.

Only the tools for assembling are incomplete. Ennard knew more specialized tools were stored by Michael's father elsewhere, such as the warehouse at the rental place.

Sometimes he finds Michael using improvised tools such as a fork.

The animatronic was still watching the eldest, his robotic eyes moving according to where Michael's hand moved. Watching every step Michael took. It was a holiday so Michael had always chosen to study his father's notes.

Ennard slowly grabbed the edge of the vent exit, then exited it without a sound, despite a faint thud as his feet landed on the floor. He saw Michael flinch a little, but wasn't too bothered. He walked slowly, eyes still focused on Michael. Ennard raised his eyebrows sharply, and when Michael turned his head to him the man jumped in surprise in his chair.

"Couldn't you have just—stood a reasonable distance away?" Michael grumbled, Ennard always surprised him. This time the animatronic was standing directly behind him, eyes fixed on the endoskeleton. "If you want to mock, go away. Shoo."

"Hmp."

Michael frowned slightly, then gasped as Ennard's cord wrapped tightly around his wrist holding a screwdriver. "What are you—ouch," Michael grimaced, jerking his hand and quickly rubbing his slightly reddened wrist. "Why did you do that?" Michael demanded answers.

There was no answer from Ennard, only those animatronic blue eye stared at Michael coldly and intensely. "Don't be nervous." Ennard looked away, Michael frowning.

"I'm not—" Michael looked at his hands again, now noticing that his fingers were shaking faintly.

"You always think about failure."

Michael looked at Ennard in disbelief. "I will succeed. I always thought that way."

Ennard glanced up. "Not today, I guess. Looks like you're stuck on that little project of yours, hm?" Ennard moved slightly towards Michael, his gaze sharpened.

"I ... no ..." Michael lowered his head slowly, his lips forming a tight, straight line.

"I'm never wrong."

"But it all started with you."

Ennard turned around, frowning at Michael who was now looking up to get a better look at him. "I wouldn't have ended up deadlocked like this if it hadn't started with you killing me and turning me into a suit. I couldn't have ended up frustrated with my life right now if it weren't for you. This is your fault."

A long silence fell. Michael pursed his lips together while Ennard seemed impressed by what he had just said.

Of course what he said was true, and he knew Ennard was aware of it.

The animatronic with the incomplete unit remained silent for a few minutes, Michael began to return to his focus on the notes on the table. The movement of one part of Ennard's body made a metallic sound, Ennard lowered both his shoulders that had been tense.

"You don't know what it's like to be down there all those years." Ennard muttered under his breath, his voice low, but Michael could still hear it.

Michael rolled his eyes bored. "Try to feel the loss of your family members one by one."

"I'm—huh. An irony." Ennard just chuckled. Ennard's answer made Michael raise an eyebrow, not knowing what made the animatronic laugh. "This is just plainly stupid," snorted Ennard amused.

"I don't understand what you're thinking," Michael responded before making a small 'heh', going back to his work if the phone hadn't rang. This evoked a memory in Michael's mind of the telephone. "Hello?"

["Good evening, Mike!"]

Michael was silent for a moment, staring at Ennard, and Ennard just looked back at him with a 'you-who-takes-the-phone' before looking away. "Alice," Michael finally said. "I forgot you asked for my number back then."

["It doesn't matter. By the way, are you at home?"]

"Yes ...." Michael answered quietly, his brows knitting together and he glanced again at Ennard who was more busy looking at the things on the table. "Why?"

["I have some food left and want to deliver it to your house, but I don't know where you live."]

"Oh, that's sad," Ennard responded with amusement and a stifled snort. "Very sad, don't you think, Benedict?"

Michael gestured for Ennard to shut up by glaring at him. "I appreciate your offer, Alice, but I—uh, had dinner, yeah." Michael laughed awkwardly, if only that could happen. "So ... sorry."

["Oh, okay."]

Without replying, Michael immediately hung up the call and put the phone on the table, looking at the girl's contact name in the call log. "Huft." Michael took a deep breath.

Ennard snorted. "She's suspicious."

"Not again." Michael groaned in annoyance and pinched his temples with his thumbs. "Stop thinking bad things about Alice."

"Are you saying that to me or to yourself?" Ennard raised an eyebrow, and Michael just gave him a sulky look. "If I were you, I would block that girl ..."

"Oh shut up, I won't do that."

"... if only she had traced where I was calling from."

Michael blocked Alice's contact that night.