This story may not jive with your headcanon, and it definitely dances along the line of truth as to what was presented in the game. It takes into account pretty much just what you find in the core five days of the first game and was mostly plotted out before the release of the third one entirely. Things from later games are only germane to this story if they're mentioned specifically. So if your response to a continuity error begins with, "But in FNaF2/FNaF3/Scott's totally legit post, it said..." please know that I am aware of it, had taken it into account, and discarded it to create this alternate scenario. At the very least, the story should be internally consistent with itself. I hope you enjoy it and it keeps you guessing. I also apologize if you don't like Sunny. I do personally, and will be giving her her own book later this year, but if you don't please PM me any punches in the face and I'll see that she gets them. Rest assured, though that this is Mike's story, not Sunny's and I will be treating it as such.
Another long, dreary night of staving off certain death.
Mondays are normally dreary, hateful days for the working world. But for Mike Schmidt, Mondays were the best day of the working week. On Mondays, the animatronics at Freddy Fazbear's were quiet and mostly inactive. Usually one of them didn't even leave the stage until after two or three in the morning. Not that Mike neglected to check the cameras, but if someone was going to try and get inside the office, it wouldn't be until late- or early, rather. Usually no one showed up at the door until after four.
Mike settled down in his chair promptly at midnight and picked up his monitor. As expected, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were onstage, and the curtain to Pirate Cove was drawn closed. Mike poured a cup of coffee from his thermos and took a drink. It was going to be a long, tense night.
"Midnight," said Mike, just to hear the sound of his own voice. "All accounted for."
Twelve fifteen...
Twelve thirty...
One AM...
Mike got up and stretched. Sitting too long at the monitor made him get really tense, and used up his power to boot. But he couldn't stay away for long, because not watching the cameras was sure death. When he picked it up again, he was startled to see that Bonnie was already moving around. It was standing in the dining area, looking at the camera from a distance. Mike checked the stage quickly, and Chica and Freddy were still in position. Nothing had changed at Pirate Cove.
"Stay right there," Mike instructed Bonnie, watching the camera. Then he had to put it down. One minute... five minutes... ten... he picked up the camera again. Bonnie had moved.
Was it in the hall? Nope, hall was clear. "Is he in the supply closet? ... No..." Mike frowned. He leaned over and pressed the door light, relieved to see that his blind spot was clear. Back to the camera, Mike checked the backstage area. Sure enough, there was Bonnie. Mike breathed a sigh of relief...
And sucked it right back in when he saw that Bonnie wasn't alone. There was someone else in there... another human being!
Mike blinked, thinking he was hallucinating again. But no. It was a human, standing front of Bonnie, running his or her or its (it couldn't be another robot, could it?) hands all along the rabbit's coarse, plastic fur. Mike squinted to get a better look. It was very hard to see details in the dark.
Mike tensed, waiting for Bonnie to react, to grab the stranger and stuff it in one of the empty suits backstage. But as the seconds ticked by, he started to feel strange. Nothing was happening. The figure investigated Bonnie's ears, its face, its arms, its whole body... and Bonnie didn't move. Why? He knew the animatronics would attack, he'd had too many close calls. Not to mention what had happened to Porter.
Mike decided then to do something he had never done before: leave the office between the hours of twelve and six.
Deciding to leave and actually leaving were two different things. He checked his watch and the camera, and based on what he knew it was really unlikely that Chica or Freddy would move, and Foxy was still hiding behind the curtains. Mike took a deep breath and stepped out into the west hall. He was not immediately jumped and stuffed into a suit. So far, so good.
Mike slowly crept down the hall, each tap of his hard shoes against the tile echoing over and over, down the hall and throughout the pizzeria. Mike was certain that Freddy could hear him, devil that he was, and was already off the stage. Mike's monitor was still in the office, hooked up to the security system. If only he could bring it with him...
When he got to the end of the hall he realized that he would have to walk right past Pirate Cove in order to get backstage. His muscles tensed up at the thought, but the curtains were mercifully still closed. Foxy was as good as asleep.
The dining area was full of shadows that teased the edge of Mike's subconscious. It's me! flashed through his head, and the image of an eyeless, soulless bear danced behind his eyes. A deep laughter tickled his ears, but Mike couldn't be sure if he was hearing it or remembering it. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and picked up the pace.
The door to the backstage opened and Mike dove under one of the party tables. It wasn't Bonnie that emerged, though. It was a woman. Mike could see her much better in person. She was young-ish, late twenties probably, with dark skin and long hair done in a loose braid- her back was turned to him as she closed the door, before turning around to give him a good view of her face.
Convinced they were alone, as the animatronics on stage were behind their own curtain and she had closed the door to the backstage, Mike slowly crawled out from under the table. "Who the hell are you?" he croaked.
The woman jumped in surprise and looked around. "Hello? Is someone here?" She spotted Mike as he straightened up.
"No one is supposed to be on the premises," said Mike. "I'm the security guard- you're going to have to leave."
"Me, leave?" The woman frowned. "No, sorry, I'm supposed to be here. I mean, they probably expected me to be here during the day, but my plane was late getting in. I'm the new engineer. My name is Sunny Deshawn."
"Mike Schmidt, the security guard," said Mike with a hand on his chest, "and no one mentioned this to me. Not that they ever tell me anything," he added bitterly. "Come on- we have to get back to the office, fast."
"Why?"
Mike reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Just come with me and I'll explain."
"Um, okay." Sunny allowed him to lead her back down the hall and to the office.
Somehow, Mike wasn't as tense or as aware of every little piece of his surroundings as he had been when he emerged. Immediately upon returning he picked up the monitor and checked everyone's position: Bonnie backstage, Freddy and Chica onstage, Pirate Cove still curtained off. He put the monitor down and breathed out slowly.
Calm again, Mike turned to Sunny, who was standing in the doorway. "Come all the way in," he instructed. She took a step into the room. "Okay, you wanna tell me from the beginning? What are you doing here?"
"I'm on loan from P.E.T.," she explained.
Mike cocked his head.
"Pizzaland Entertainment Theater," she clarified. "See, I got a job with them refurbishing their animatronics."
"I thought Pizzaland went out of business at the same time Showbiz did."
Sunny shook her head. "The main company did and got bought by a tech company in South America, but two or three of the franchises survived. And they still cook up guest stars every year. In fact, they let me borrow the old one to bring here to help."
Mike clutched the monitor close to his chest. "You brought one of those things here?"
"He's currently in a secure offsite storage area, but yes. Why are you so freaked out? Scared of the dark or something?"
Mike shook his head, almost violently. "Just keep talking!"
"O... kay. Well, anyway, P.E.T. keeps me around to keep the figures running and to program the shows, but it's not full-time work. When Fazbear's found out about how I'd revitalized P.E.T., they called me and asked if I couldn't help them refurbish their figures, maybe see if I could program out the quirks. I said I'd try," she finished.
Mike shook his head. "You can't," he said.
"Why? 'Cause I'm girl?" Obviously she was teasing him, but he ignored it.
"No, that's not it."
"Oh. Then it's because I'm black."
"It's because they're evil," Mike insisted.
"...Um, I don't think so."
"Trust me," said Mike. "I've been doing this job long enough."
"How long is that?"
Mike hesitated. "Six weeks," he admitted.
"Six weeks."
"Yeah." Mike suddenly looked self-conscious.
"And that makes you an expert." She clearly wasn't buying it.
"Not an expert," Mike said slowly, "but definitely the most senior security guard. And," he added glancing at the monitor, "unless I'm mistaken, the last security guard."
"You don't know?"
"They don't tell me anything."
Sunny leaned back against the window, her hands stuffed in her pockets. "That really sucks. I know what that's like- sometimes people don't tell me things, either..."
"I bet they tell you the important things."
"When I got out of college, I traveled halfway around the world for a job they forgot to tell me was under a hiring freeze."
"Yikes." Mike tried to give an appropriate reaction. He was, after all, not completely wrapped up in his own problems. "Still, though. You're alive."
"You're alive," said Sunny.
"And I hope to stay that way. Look." Mike straightened his shoulders. "You're going to have to stay here overnight. It's not safe to leave the office before six." He picked up the monitor and flipped through the feed. "See? Bonnie's already moving again. He's back in the dining room."
"And... that's bad?"
"I don't know why he didn't do anything to you, especially given where you were, but when they see a person, they don't recognize him as a person. They sort of... see you as an endoskeleton without its suit on, so they stuff you in a suit. You know, the ones full of crossbeams and... sharp animatronic stuff."
"And that's bad."
"It would kill you."
"How do you know what they'll do if they never caught you?"
Mike pursed his lips together. Then he pushed a few buttons on the office phone and played a message.
"Hello, hello?" an amicable voice said from the phone. This was a friendly voice, a voice that only wanted what was best for you. The sound of this voice made Mike relax a bit. "Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it.
"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow." There was a horrible banging sound coming from the phone. The voice coming out was still mostly calm as he stammered his way through the message. "It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you- ahem- uh, when I did.
The banging grew louder. "Uh, hey, do me a favor. Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad. Uh, I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there."
A pretty music box rendition of the Toreador March started playing under the banging. Then there was an inhuman scream, and the call cut out.
Sunny just stood there staring at the phone long after the message ended.
Mike picked up the camera and scanned through the feed. "That was the previous night security guard. His name was Porter Graves. He had called me every single night my first week to help me out. It was his last week and he was passing his knowledge down. That was his fourth phone call. On my first Friday, I got this." Mike hit a button on the phone, and a horrible garbled noise came out. It didn't sound like phone garble- it sounded deliberate, purposeful. It sounded like something trying to communicate.
When the message cut out, Sunny closed her eyes and let out a long breath. "If you're so sure they're trying to kill you," she said slowly, "then how are you still alive?"
"I have fantastic survival instincts."
"See, I don't think that's true." Sunny gave him a half smirk. "If your survival instincts are so great, why do you keep coming back to a place that wants to kill you?"
"Point."
"And anyway, that's the kind of thing I'll be programming out," Sunny continued, now once again at ease. It was easy to relax when you didn't have to actively listen to someone being killed over the phone. "So I should get a good idea of what they're actually doing."
"Be my guest," said Mike. "Just don't use the camera too much. It eats up power. If we run out, we die."
Sunny picked up the camera and scrolled through the camera feed. "Do you have any paper and pens?"
Mike opened the desk drawers and pawed around until he found a pad of legal paper and some half-empty Bics. "Here. Go nuts."
Sunny put the camera down and began making notes. "Seriously though," she said casually, her eyes fixed on her paper. "Why do you keep coming back?"
Mike hesitated. "Let's just say I really need the money." He glanced over her shoulder and saw what she was writing: 1:37. Bonnie, supply closet. Freddy, main stage. "What about Chica?" he asked.
"What about her?"
"Where is she?"
"Didn't see her."
"You didn't see her?!" Mike shouted way, way too loud. He turned to the east door and hit the light. It illuminated the hall, so they could see Chica staring at them through the window. Mike yelped and slammed the door button. "They can disable the cameras, and I think they can disable the doors if you don't watch them!"
"Jeeze, calm down," said Sunny.
"I don't think you understand how dangerous this is!" Mike was really frustrated at her obtuseness.
"If an employee really died on the job, why didn't they tell anyone?"
"Company policy," replied Mike. "They swept it under the rug like they always do."
Sunny shrugged. "It just doesn't seem very likely."
"I can't make you believe me," said Mike. "And I'm not going to try and force you to stay here. I'm just going to suggest, very strongly, that you listen to me."
Sunny just kept on scribbling on the legal pad.
One forty-five AM, Chica finally left and Mike let the door up.
Two AM...
Three AM...
"We're running low on power," said Mike at four AM. "We should have a little less than forty percent power left, and we're down to twenty-five."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if we aren't careful, we're going to get murdered by Freddy."
"Well, keep me posted." Sunny shuffled her notes around and continued to work.
Twenty percent...
Fifteen percent...
Five AM, fifteen percent, and Bonnie camped out front of the west door. Mike slammed the door and stared at the battery indicator, watching it drop.
"Maybe Bonnie isn't going to hurt us," said Sunny. "After all, he didn't do a thing when I was checking his joints. And I was right there with the animatronic skeletons and empty suits."
"He might not have noticed you," said Mike. "They're not aware of things exactly like we are. I mean, come on. Do I need to play the messages again?"
"No," said Sunny quickly. She put the papers back down and started writing again.
Mike bit his lip. Five... four... three... two... one percent...
The lights went out and the power generator groaned to a stop. The west door sprung open, but Bonnie was no longer outside of it. Sunny looked up curiously.
"Don't move," said Mike through his teeth.
The music box jingle from the phone began playing. Sunny glanced at Mike, whose face had gone very pale. She turned her head slowly to see what he was looking at, and nearly swallowed her tongue. Two glowing eyes flashed in the doorway, illuminating a row of jagged white teeth.
Toreador, en garde
Toreador, toreador!
Et songe bien, oui...
Sunny slid down off her seat and hid under the table. Mike remained frozen.
The music cut off suddenly. Mike gasped. They heard the plodding steps of a heavy animatronic come closer, closer... and then arbitrarily it turned and went further and further away. Somewhere in the distance, the Westminster Chimes sounded.
"Six AM," whispered Mike.
Sunny slowly crawled out from under the desk.
"Do you believe me now?" asked Mike gravely.
Sunny nodded, trembling slightly. Even in the darkness, he could see the telltale imprint of terror on her face. It was the same one he saw in his reflection for nearly two months now.
"So you'll understand why I recommend you don't come back?"
Sunny gave him a look that was incredulous over fearful. "Are you kidding? If I'm going to fix them, I have to see them at their worst. I'll be back tonight."
"If you're sure," said Mike. "See you before midnight." Without another word, he grabbed his coat from the corner and left.