It was a dark and stormy night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. The security guard, Mike Schmidt, sat at his desk with a pen in one hand and a dumbbell in the other. Once a skinny weakling, Mike had beefed up to the point where his blue button-down work shirt was now on the verge of tearing apart at the slightest movement. He had been lifting for months, building as much muscle mass as possible, while also training his mind by watching action movies and wrestling nonstop in his free time. He consumed only protein shakes and bars. All of it was in preparation for the night at hand. The night he quit his job.
Finishing his letter of resignation, Mike set down his pen and dumbbell and reached for the company tablet. Turning it on, he checked around the restaurant for his foes. Foxy was reclusive, hiding within Pirate Cove. Bonnie and Freddy were both inactive on the stage. Chica, however, had begun her trek to the security office. Mike put the tablet to sleep, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. It was time for him to get ready. The night guard stood from his office chair and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him with just his white undershirt. He then bent down to reach below his desk, withdrawing the large boombox he had brought from home and placing it next to the tablet. He put in the CD he had lying on top of it and pressed play. The sweet sounds of Mike's personalized DMX workout mix serenaded his ears as he stretched his muscles. He positioned his right foot behind his left and raised his fists. Mike stared into the darkness beyond the doorway, eager for what was soon to come.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" A horrible robotic screech erupted from the shadows as a yellow blob flung itself at Mike.
Stepping to the side, Mike managed to avoid Chica. As she fell to the ground, Mike dropped down on top of her elbow-first, using all of his weight to strike her in the back. A loud crashing noise resounded throughout the office as Chica collided with the tile floor, kicking up a substantial amount of dust that flew into Mike's face. Disoriented, he rolled away from the robot chicken and stood up. He cleared his eyes of dirt particles, readying himself to look down upon the felled animatronic and deliver a smug one-liner. When his vision returned to him, however, the chunky chicken was standing right before him, looking angrier than ever. Mike attempted to backstep but Chica thrust her arms forward, locking her hands around his thick, meaty neck. The chicken was choking him for a change. He grabbed her wrists, attempting to pull her arms away, but to no avail; her iron grip was inescapable. A garbled, static-y chuckle emitted from Chica's voicebox.
That smug bitch.
Enraged, a burst of energy empowered Mike. He flattened his palms and jammed his hands into the open space between Chica's head and torso. Getting a firm grip on her lower jaw, he began to pull up with all his might. Chica looked down at Mike's hands, then back at him. Mike was unyielding as Chica tightened her grip in a panic, trying desperately to kill him more quickly as she felt the connections between her head and body separate.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-"
Chica's scream was cut short by a loud snap as Mike tore her head off, sending sparks flying from frayed wires. Her body fell to the ground with a great thud as Mike held her head in the air, a metallic spine hanging from from it. He turned his head up to look at Chica's eyes, seeing the light in them flicker and turn off. Mike let out a primal, celebratory yell.
His merriment was cut short, however, by an unforeseen fist to the face. Mike stumbled back, dropping the head to the ground. Thinking back to his training, he immediately used his hands to create a shield in front of his face which, as he predicted, blocked a second punch. Pushing down the hand that had struck him, he found his assailant to be none other than Bonnie.
"Oh good," Mike said with a smirk, "you came right to me. Thanks for saving me the time."
Mike followed his line with a roundhouse kick from his right leg, but Bonnie was too fast. The rabbot raised a forearm to block Mike's leg, then grabbed his calf and pulled upward, attempting to throw off the security guard's balance. Though Mike was surprised, he managed to stop his fall by thrusting his arms behind himself. Then, using the momentum to his advantage, Mike backflipped to the other end of the office, successfully escaping his foe.
"You've got some moves," Mike, glaring at the angry rabbot. "Well, bring it on, bitch."
Bonnie screamed and charged at Mike, ready to tackle him, but once more the guard was too swift. Mike reached for the ground, grasped the bottom of Chica's spine in his hand, and swung the disembodied head at Bonnie, smacking the rabbot in the jaw with the makeshift flail. Bonnie was dazed, allowing Mike to follow up with a series of successive hits with the head before dropping it. Bonnie, further angered by the head-on assault, attempted to strike at the guard's chest with both hands, but Mike grabbed the rabbot's wrists and pushed the arms aside. Then, in a sequence he had practiced many a time in the bathroom, Mike punched Bonnie in the face before delivering a rapid flurry of open-palm strikes to the chest. He then reached for the animatronic's long rabbit ears, ripped them off with a mighty tug, and stuck them back in place upside-down. Finally, Mike punched Bonnie one last time in the nose with such force that the animatronic's entire face caved in, leaving only the lower jaw intact. Bonnie fell to the floor right next to Chica.
"How's that for your booplesnoot?" Mike said out loud to nobody, immensely proud of himself.
The guard chuckled to himself and relaxed his muscles. He was destroying the animatronics with more speed and ease than he had expected. All the weeks spent working at the pizzeria had ingrained the timing of the robot crew's activity into his internal clock. He knew without checking the time that he still had a couple minutes to spare before Foxy would begin peeking out from his curtains. Mike took this time to get in a quick pump. The fox was fast, and was thus sure to be a most formidable opponent.
Mike's ears perked up as a new sound made itself manifest at the end of the hallway before the left doorway: the rapid pitter-patter of a set of familiar faux fox feet. The animatronic pirate made a quick approach, emerging from the darkness and rushing up to Mike much faster than the night guard had expected he would. Foxy was right in his face, about to attack. The night guard didn't stand a chance.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
Mike grabbed the charging robot and used his own momentum against him to deliver a powerful suplex, smashing Foxy's head into thousands of pieces against the floor. Letting go of the lifeless animatronic, Mike got up and turned to take a look at him.
"That was really easy."
Three down, one to go. It was time to go on the offensive, Mike decided. With only one target left, he could leave the office without fear of being ganged up on. Plus, the floor was a bit crowded with dead robots.
Exiting the office and making his way to the party room, Mike grew excited. Of all the animatronics, Freddy was the worst. His aggressive nature, his music box, his horrible laugh, Mike had grown to fear it all. No more. On this night, Freddy was the prey and Mike was the hunter.
From the kitchen doorway, Mike peered at the main stage where Freddy spent much of his time, only to find no animatronics present. "Where are you, Fazfucker?" Mike growled.
Suddenly, Mike felt a powerful impact on the back of his head, dazing him. While he was disoriented, he recognized the object that had hit him as it fell to his feet: Freddy's microphone. The night guard turned to see his nemesis staring him down from the opposite end of the kitchen.
"You!" Freddy's deep voice boomed. "Security guard!"
The bear reached his arm outward, pointing at Mike before bringing his fist to his chest.
"Face ME!"
Freddy bolted towards Mike, and the guard bolted towards him. As they closed in on one another, the two swung at each other with their right fists, striking each other's faces in a cross-counter. They both stepped back in response to this, creating some distance. Their eyes met, expressions of strength and determination clashing in the dim light of the kitchen. A silent challenge, one man to one manimatronic.
Mike dashed forward, moving in for a jab at Freddy's right, but the crafty bear was prepared. He swept at the guard's leg, catching him off-balance. Mike fell, but his descent was stopped by the powerful force of Freddy's fist burying itself in his abdomen. The large stockpile of water in Mike's stomach vacated his body through his mouth. Freddy removed his fist and let Mike fall to his elbow and knees, before following up with a powerful roundhouse kick to his skull. Mike flew back and hit the ground, writhing in agony.
"What, done already, Schmidt?" Freddy spat. "I expected better of you."
The night guard turned his head up to meet the eyes of his enemy. Those silver eyes, so terrible and devoid of substance. The very sight of them renewed Mike's rage. He smirked.
"Heh. Not even close, bitchbear."
Taking advantage of his position, Mike took a surprise strike at Freddy's groin. The bear stumbled back, giving Mike an opening to get back on his feet and follow with another sock to the face. Seeing his disadvantage, Freddy quickly curled up and did a series of tactical rolls to the back of the kitchen. Stopping next to the freezer, he got up and opened it, reaching inside with both hands. Mike ran for him, but the bear had drawn his weapons too quickly. He held two frozen pizzas in his hands, and was quick to launch the first.
The pizza flew past Mike's head, disrupting his run by forcing him to sidestep. The spinning crust grazed the side of his head, cutting his temple, but otherwise he had managed to avoid it. A crashing noise was heard as the pizza lodged itself into the wall behind the night guard. Mike made the mistake of looking back in response to the noise; when he turned his head to Freddy again, a second pie was right in front of his face. He couldn't dodge it. Mike barely had enough time to swat the pizza away with his forearm, a move that may have saved his life but found him struck with immense pain where the bread had sliced an inch into his left arm like a buzzsaw, spraying blood everywhere. As Mike yelped in distress, the deflected discus of deliciousness hit the wall to his side, severing a gas pipe which emitted an audible hiss.
His pizza plan having failed, Freddy saw no other option left. The stove was right next to him. In a last-ditch effort to kill the guard he reviled so, Freddy turned the dial on the burner.
"Nooooooooo!" Mike screamed, reaching out for the appliance. But he was too late.
The pizzeria exploded in a mighty boom, shaking the nearby area with a powerful shockwave. The legendary restaurant had been brought to nothing in one short burst of destruction. One moment a venerable establishment of singing robots and pizza, the next a maelstrom fire and flying debris. Car alarms blared. Stray dogs and rats fled. Steam arose alongside the smoke as raindrops evaporated upon nearing the premises. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was nothing more than a pile of rubble.
Amid splintered support beams and melting kitchen utensils, a pile of debris rustled where the kitchen once was. Out of it emerged a muscular arm, bringing a fist into the air.
Mike Schmidt pulled himself out of the ruins of the pizzeria. He was bruised, broken, and bloodied, but very much alive. He was lucky to get away with just a few cuts and burns. Hoisting himself up, he even found that he could still walk, though only barely. The guard looked upon the wreckage in his wake. In the end, he had come out victorious. One careful step at a time, he left the former site of Fazbear's and began his journey home.
"SCHMIIIIIIIIIIIIIDT!" a bellowing voice roared.
Mike looked behind himself and saw Freddy Fazbear pulling out of the rubble. Half of his head was gone, his left arm was hanging by a few wires, and every movement brought sparks from the broken joints all over his body. Despite his damages, however, he stood on his two feet and lumbered towards Mike, dead set on seeing the job finished. For the sake of honor, Mike felt compelled to do the same.
The two rivals grabbed one another, each attempting to throw the other to the ground, but to no avail. The weakened warriors were locked in a grapple, each staring into the hateful but weary eyes of his enemy. Unable to overpower the guard, Freddy headbutted Mike, but Mike stood strong.
Freddy growled.
"First you destroy my crew."
He delivered another headbutt.
"Then my business."
Another headbutt.
"And then... Then, you have the nerve... to REFUSE TO DIE!" Freddy's angered whisper escalated to a shout, garbled by the damage to his voice box.
Mike returned with a headbutt of his own, much harder than anything the broken robot could muster. Blood flowed from his forehead down to his lip, and filled his mouth with the taste of metal.
"Then you shouldn't have fucked with me," he hissed.
With that, Mike pushed Freddy back and released his grip. He reared his right arm back and, with all the force he could, Mike drove his hand into Freddy's chest and tore through him, his arm bursting out of the animatronic's back, holding his still-heating CPU between bloodied fingers. Freddy slumped onto Mike, unable to move any longer. The guard brought his mouth to Freddy's ear and whispered:
"See you in hell, pizza bear."
Mike crushed the processor in his hand, causing his animatronic enemy to emit one last electronic grunt before the life faded from his eyes. Mike pulled his arm back and let the body hit the floor.
"More like... More like DEAD-y Fazbear." The night guard smiled triumphantly, but his internal celebration was cut off by a sharp pain in his ribcage. He needed medical attention.
Stumbling through the streets, Mike scanned the nearby buildings until he found the corner drugstore where many went for stomach medication after visiting Fazbear's. He punched through the glass door and opened it from within. Hobbling over to the first aid supplies, he collected all the gauze he could and spent several minutes wrapping it tightly around his many open wounds. As he did so, his eyes wandered to a certain section of the store. Propping himself up on the nearby shelves, he limped over to it. He had set his sights on something so sweet, so innocent, so yearning for love.
Mike slid open the glass door to the freezer and took out the frozen pizza that had stared at him with wistful pepperonis from across the building. He gently pet it, making sure it was comfortable in his arms.
"It's okay, it's okay," he told the pizza. "You're going to a good stomach."
And so Mike and his pizza walked off into the night. The world was saved and a hero had been made. The End.