The knock came to the door of the rundown apartment, and he stood up. Walking slowly toward the entrance, every step continued to take longer and longer. Finally, he reached out his hand to the doorknob, and opened it. There was a flash for a moment, a memory of two animatronics, before he was able to focus on the person in front of him.

"You Mike Schmidt?" The man held out a form clipped to some wood with a box blank for a signature. Mike dug around his pockets, finally pulling out an old pen. Scratching it on his palm, he confirmed it was still working. Taking the wood, Mike signed it slowly.

"Yeah, that's me." Mike's voice was low, as if speaking was something he was unused to. The voice almost seemed to startle him, and Mike glanced behind him for a moment. Handing back the form, Mike stepped back as the man brought forward the boxes of items.

"Where do you want this?" For a moment, the man was standing there, before Mike motioned for him to follow. Walking past an open living room, surprisingly neat despite the various papers crumpled around it. Mike pulled out a key, and unlocked a room, holding it open so the guy could wheel the boxes inside.

"Alright, I'll be on my way then." The man broke a smile, turning toward Schmidt, who had eyes only for the boxes. After a moment, Mike blinked, and gave a nervous smile. Walking out of the room, Mike once more locked it, and then escorted the guy to the exit. Waving a quick goodbye, Mike closed the door just as the man got a call on his phone.

"Yeah I just delivered it, guy's completely strange. Eh, he was the only one who even went to the auction, let alone paid for it. Doesn't matter as long as it's out of your hair, right?" Sighing, Mike turned, and headed back toward the room. After standing at the door for a moment, he bit his lip, and slowly opened it. Nothing had changed.

Mike pulled out a note, and stuck it to the outside of the door. Entering, he locked himself inside, and put the keys in his pocket. Turning around, he took a few steadying breaths, and approached the boxes. Shaky hands reached out with a knife, and he opened the first. There were two other boxes. One the same size as this one, and one very long one.

Mike breathed a sigh as he saw mainly office objects in the first one, and placed them in their rightful place on a desk he had also purchased. The purpose might not have been intended for this at first, but it served a definite purpose. When Mike pulled out the final item, he blinked in surprise. Placing the cupcake down, he remembered how much he had hated it.

The second box contained spare parts. Surprisingly, there was even a paper plate of Balloon Boy, browned, but intact. Mike placed them in one corner of the room, feeling like he was treading on their remains if he went through it. Turning, he regarded the final box, and watched it thump slightly.

Mike pulled out a makeshift set of 'armor'. Mostly, it was just padded clothing designed for construction workers. Wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, he shuddered, whimpering for a moment. Flashes of the four, no five, animatronics. Mike didn't want to open this box, even as he put on his football helmet. Glancing toward another table, he quickly checked the straps, the one part he had spared no expense on.

Gulping, Mike grabbed his two metal forks, used normally for stoking fires. Approaching the box, he watched it thump a second time. Mike reached out with one fork, and carefully removed the tape from one long side, allowing the thing inside to get free. There was a pause, and then one side slowly opened. Mike crouched, biting his lip as sweat beaded down his face.

"Rarrrgh!" The animatronic exploded out of the box, pivoting to try and move toward Mike. Mike dived out of the way, coming to a crouch, heart pounding as he waited for the animatronic to try again. As it did so, he dived toward a spot behind the table, knowing there was only one way to get to him. The animatronic leaned over, and Mike took his chance.

Moving forward, Mike using one fork to keep the other hand away as he slapped the strap over one hand. Pulling it tight, he then pushed the table into the animatronic, causing it to fall slightly onto it. Running around it through the gap he had just made, Mike used his fork to position the second hand, strapping it down. The screeching of it intensified, and Mike was glad he had soundproofed the room after all. Looking at the kicking legs, Mike gulped, and forced himself to continue.

Grabbing one leg, he strapped it in, grunting as he struggled to keep it steady. Moving onto the next one, he managed to get it strapped in, and stepped back. Putting a hand to his beating heart, he sat down on the floor, gasping heavily. As his heartbeat steadied, his vision began to swim, and he put a hand to his head.

Standing up, Mike finally got a look at the animatronic. It was one he didn't recognize, but it was definitely a Fazbear animatronic. It wasn't the suit that scared him the most though, it was the human eyes inside it. Mike began to shake, taking in every tiny detail about this animatronic. Turning, he dived for a bucket, and deposited his lunch into it.

Wiping his mouth, Mike slowly approached, checking the restraints were working. They were, but he needed to tighten them. As Mike did so, he blinked as the scream cut off, and noticed the animatronic was now watching him. Gulping once more, he wondered what it was thinking about.

Mike pulled out his key, seeing that the animatronic was now secure, and turned. Pulling off a glove, he unlocked the door, glancing back toward it. Biting his lip, Mike left the room, locking the door behind him. Taking off his helmet, he leaned against the door, and closed his eyes. After a moment like this, the heat of his outfit became too much, and he changed into something less bulky.

Mike walked toward the end of his hallway, coming to a second locked room, the one that led to his bedroom. It was the second room in the house with no windows, the first being the one now holding the animatronic. Stepping inside, he once more locked the door, and turned to examine his room.

There was a simple bed in one corner, but the majority of the space was taken up by papers. News clippings, drawings, rumors, and a big board with string linking up the major articles to certain pictures or photos. Mike walked over to it, and pulled out an image of a paper plate that had been captured on video. A crooked ear, white eyes, a bunny.

Walking over to an old cassette tape player, Mike pulled out one of his cassette tapes from a box beside it, and slipped it inside. As it played, Mike pulled out a pen, and searched his walls for a blank space. Finding one on the door-frame, he leaned over, and began to write. Two words, repeated on all walls of his room. 'It's me.' The recording began to play.

"Hello? Hello hello? I wanted to record a message for you-"