A/N: Part of my human fnaf au. Remember to go to my fnaf askblog for more about this au)
'Play me.'
Mike read the sticky note that had been placed on the ancient audio recorder sitting on his desk, as it had on Mike's first three nights a couple weeks ago. He set his Big Gulp on the desk and sat back in the swivel chair, pressing the play button on the recorder. He wondered what Phone Guy (the playful nickname he gave to the elder employee) could possibly tell Mike now, since he seemed to have gotten the basics for this simple job by now and used it for two weeks. The brunette wasn't too concerned, so he nonchalantly looked up at the monitors. No one was heading towards his office, which meant less work for Mike.
When the recording first started, there was nothing but static. The static continued for about five seconds until a voice was finally heard.
"Hello, hello? M-Mike?"
Mike raised an eyebrow and sat up in his chair. 'He's… never called me by my name before,' Mike thought.
"Hey, wow, week two. I-I, um, knew you could do it, kid."
There was some kind of banging noise in the background of Phone Guy's talking, and the sound of the recorder being shuffled around. The man also seemed much more nervous than usual, his voice quivering and stammering worse than ever.
"L-Look, I'm, uh, probably not gonna be a-around much longer. I-I-I-I messed up real bad. I… I've, uh, never seen the big b-boss so angry…"
A nervous chuckle trailed off of Phone Guy's sentence and he went silent while the banging continued, accompanied by muffled yelling. Mike's heart began to race as he hoped this was just some sick joke made to scare the newbies.
"L-Listen, I don't have a l-lot of time left, so I'll, uh, m-make it quick; something's not right here. T-That pyscho woman had t-this stuff dripping out of her e-eyeholes… s-speaking s-some demon language… t-then F-Freddy c-came after me, claiming I, um, s-stole something…
"A-Anyways, y-you need to get out of there now. I-If you can, t-try to get in touch with F-Ferrah Smith… i-if she's, uh, s-sane-"
Phone Guy was cut off by the sound of what Mike assumed to be the door breaking open.
"Oh no-"
There was a loud gunshot sound that cut off Phone Guy, the sound of the recorder being dropped, then complete silence after the recording was done. Mike sat there stunned and the color drained from his face that was decorated with pearls of sweat at his forehead. His heart was now pounding viciously against his rib cage as he gave ragged breaths.
He looked around the compact and messy security room. Not one drop of blood or struggle was evident- it was exactly the same as he left it the night before. No, this couldn't of happened during the previous shift that same night. That was only a few hours ago. And how could Phone Guy leave a note if he was most likely dead? It didn't make sense. None of the conclusion Mike had come up with was humanly possible.
It's just not possible…
Payton burst into the security guard's office and immediately locked the door behind him, making sure to do the same to the other one was well. He saw Freddy running down the hall in the security camera out of the corner of his eye, pistol firm in his hand. Payton pushed up his glasses and tried to catch his breath, not caring about the sweat running down his face. Though his break only lasted for a mere second before he began moving again.
He could not waste any time. Not even a second.
He rushed over to the cluttered metal desk and frantically pulled opened the top drawing, digging through it and throwing papers and other miscellaneous things out. He tried to ignore Freddy now being outside his door and banging furiously on it.
"You're a dead man, Griffiths!" The Italian roared, roughly jiggling the handle before pounding again.
Payton gulped as he opened the next drawer and giving it the same treatment as the previous one. His violently trembling hand finally found the audio recorder and he pulled it out, practically throwing it on the desk. He sat in the swivel chair and turned it on while glancing back at the window to look at Freddy, who had momentarily stopped pounding.
"Hello, hello? M-Mike?" Payton said into the recorder in a shaky voice, shakier than usual, "Hey, wow, week two. I-I, um, knew you could do it, kid."
Freddy was back to pounding on the door, this time louder than before. Payton picked up and brought the audio recorder closer to his face so he could talk a bit louder, despite his trembling making his grip very unsteady.
"L-Look, I'm, uh, probably not gonna be a-around much longer," He said while occasionally glancing back at his impending doom, "I-I-I-I messed up real bad. I… I've, uh, never seen the big b-boss so angry…"
He forced a nervous chuckle as his voice trailed off, partially due to his raging anxiety and partially trying to make his situation seem not as bad as it actually was. He didn't even know why he was trying to ask this kid for help- there was nothing this brat could do. Still, he had to make this recording. Mike may be the only person who can reach out to the lone survivor of this hell hole, no matter how crazy she was.
Payton looked at the monitors along the wall in front of him. No one else was out, and Mangled seemed to no longer be wandering the halls. There was no time to try to understand why Freddy was chasing him or what he "stole", much less comprehend what had happened in the past fifteen minutes at all.
"L-Listen, I don't have a l-lot of time left, so I'll, uh, m-make it quick;" Payton stammered, tears starting to go down his cheeks, "Something's not right here. T-That pyscho woman had t-this stuff dripping out of her e-eyeholes… s-speaking s-some demon language… t-then F-Freddy c-came after me, claiming I, um, s-stole something…"
The pounding on the door had gotten louder with each bang.
"A-Anyways, y-you need to get out of there now. I-If you can, t-try to get in touch with F-Ferrah Smith… i-if she's, uh, s-sane-"
A final pound was heard, accompanied by the sound of the door slamming into the wall. Payton swung his head around and saw Freddy come in, red in the face with wrath and breathing heavily through gritted teeth.
"Oh no-" Payton muttered, dropping the recorder and diving out of his chair a split second before Freddy took the shot. He swore he felt the bullet whiz past centimeters away from his ear as it went into one of the wall monitors. The asian man took a stumbling run and shoved Freddy out of the way to get out the open door.
He began to sprint down the hallway towards the main stage area, hoping to gain some time by knocking over tables and chairs behind him when he got in. Then he could easily break the glass doors and escape, hopefully in one piece
He remembered hearing about and covering up for all of his past co-workers who suffered similar fates at the hands of his bosses. Their names flashed through his mind- Mark Plyer. Sean Septic. Gavin Michaels. Toby Buscus. They were all killed for "business," and Payton was the one who allowed Death to take them without even a smack on the wrist. He had to deal with upset family and lovers, having to straight-up lie to keep Freddys and Francisco's gangs' reputation clean. He was their bitch, but never questioned his position.
Payton reached the door leading to the stage area and grabbed the handle, but it was locked tight. "No…" He muttered as he furious jiggled the handle, "No no no no no no…"
He spun around and saw Freddy coming down the hall with his gun firmly in both hands and pure wrath in his eyes. Payton backed up against the wall of the dead end hallway, his heart going a mile a minute. Tears and sweat mixed into one river of fear going down his face in buckets. Freddy slowed to a fast walk when he got ten yards away from him, making sure not to miss his subordinate this time.
Payton gulped his dry throat as he took his final breaths and stared at the tip of the pistol. He very well realized that recorder will never get to Mike, but held onto the minuscule sliver of hope that it still reached the new security guard later. He then thought of his long gone wife- her soft brown hair, petite figure, and beautiful smile- and wished he could reverse time to fix his ugly mistakes now that he was at gunpoint.
"Erika… I-I'm so sorry."
The faintest whisper of the broken man was finally silenced with a bullet digging into the skull of the now deceased Payton Griffiths.