Five Nights at Freddy's belongs to Scott Cawthon. I make no profit from these works.
It was hell. But yet in some kind of strange euphoria, we all supposed. We had always had to stick together, even to the very end. We had to. Our fates were connected in the end, after all.
Originally, there was only one. One before Freddy himself, at Fredbear's Family Diner. A strange man in a van pulls up, and approaches a small crying child, who for some reason was unable to enter the diner. The strange man in the purple shirt quickly pulls a knife and runs the blade deeply inside the child's throat just so the child can make little sound and leaves the child there so the others can see.
All of them can see the crying child.
We can see, we can see too.
The deaths continue. The man in purple lingers. We, the animatronics soon come into play at this point. His nimble fingers work so effortlessly to achieve his sadistic goals.
We have no control.
We were left to rot.
We were left to die, I suppose.
TERROR NEVER ENDS.
Soon enough, I was forced to injure a human.
We were losing.
My fangs relentlessly sunk into the man's skull, tearing at the flesh and flaying the flesh. Blood spattering everywhere. The young man screaming as I tear through the frontal lobe. Crimson. The smell of fear permeated the air. There was one face. The face of the man in purple. A gruesome smile tore its way across his face as the blood continued to flow in rivers, down, down, down, insanity flickered inside of his eyes. But there was something more, however, through the thick layers of suffocating madness inside of his eyes. Suffering.
Suffering?
Suffering, yes.
This is where it ended.
Our sanity.
The man in purple had appeared again, with his nimble fingers. In the end, he was always there. But this is where we get our revenge. This is where the story truly begins.
-THIS IS A VERY BAD PAGE BREAK-
Mike Schmidt chewed on his fingers nervously, eying the cameras. He was observing Pirate's cove, to be specific. The man on the phone had said if he hadn't check on that particular camera regularly a few days ago before he well, died, the animatronic in that area would pursue you down the hallway and attack. His eyes darted back and forth, sporadically checking the doors to make sure that the sickening faces of the animatronics children seemed to love so much.
Why in the hell would these kids love those things?
Just looking at those things made him sick. Those blank, lifeless eyes, flecked with a moist, unidentified substance. The smell was disgusting. Like something had been rotting. He smirked sardonically. He couldn't fathom why. The Phone Guy (that will be his name for now, he decided) said not to believe that the rumors floating around the place. Based on the obvious evidence, those rumors are true... which means the Phone Guy had some hand in it if he didn't want the new night guard to know anything about the incidents surrounding the place. Mike was getting a lot more than he bargained for.
He winced as he realized that he hadn't checked the monitor for the animatronic Foxy in a while. He reluctantly flipped up the monitor. Gone. Adrenaline quickly activating and bursting through his veins. He flew to the door, slamming it shut. The frantic banging against the door stripped him of all logical thought as he sprinted out of the office. The animatronics followed him, aggressively knocking over everything in their path. The chase was on.
Mike Schmidt's feet pounded relentlessly towards the locked entrance. He was entrusted with the key, so the obstacle held no merit in the chase. Inhuman screeching that sounded dangerously close to a child's distinctive scream roared to life behind him. He fumbled uselessly for his keys, but soon realized that he left them lying on his desk. It was all over now.
He sunk to the ground, finally catching his breath from all the running. They were almost upon him now, no use delaying the inevitable. They would be here momentarily. The words he had blocked outside of his skull invaded him, sobbing, whispering, cursing. "YOU DIDN'T SAVE THEM, WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO US, YOU CAN'T, IT'S ME, GIVE LIFE, NO USE, NO Use, no use... no-".
"Stop!"
Mike slammed to his feet, face contorted in a snarl.
"You can no longer haunt this place anymore, your revenge is over, the man who killed you all is dead by your hand, all of you, all of you, can rest. You can't take your anger out on everyone else because you had misfortune that ended your lives, when you don't realize the other lives are ended forcefully everyday, and when your sorrow has ended, you can't keep killing and killing just because you were killed, that just makes everything worse! Do you even know why I'm here in the first place? Because I was there when you almost killed Jeremy, my best friend, the person I looked up to, and now he's a god damn vegetable because of you! He got that job because of me, so I'm here to finish what Jeremy started!"
Silence.
Always silence.
This is where it begins again.
Our sanity.
-THIS IS A VERY BAD PAGE BREAK-
No longer ominous silhouettes came closer until they stopped at Mike's feet. Once blank eyes held a childish look inside them, woeful in a way. Four of them were here there were supposed to be five. Mike was just too relived that he was alive to notice the animatronic's absence. The reanimated beings, all of them, with the exception of one, whispered,
"We're so sorry."
Mike Schmidt finished all seven days with little to no issues.
On his last night, Mike couldn't keep his mind off the 'Bite of '87', where Jeremy was seriously injured. Guilt twisted his heart, knowing it was his fault. It still felt so real, even though he was ten then, and it was six years ago that it happened.
"Please Jeremy, pretty please?" A young Mike Schmidt asked. A sixteen-year-old-barely-out-of-diapers-when-it-comes-to-adulthood Jeremy ruffles Mike's hair.
"I probably wouldn't get the job, Mike. This would be my first job, and I have no prior experience, and there are other more qualified people for the job. Sorry about that, Mike." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. All Mike did was stick out his bottom lip and pout.
"You gave up without trying! I want some free pizza! Please, Jeremy? Promise me that you'll try?"
Jeremy nodded and smiled."I'll try."
"Pinky promise that you will?"
"Pinky Promise."
A sorrowful wave of nostalgia washed over Mike. All his fault.
All his fault.
-THIS IS A VERY BAD PAGE BREAK-
One animatronic remains alone to rot away for decades, the others destroyed. Anger fills the being, whispering,
"I'm still here..."
-TO BE CONTINUED-
This is my first Five Nights at Freddy's Fanfic... I was originally going to make this a one-shot, but it should become at least a two-shot because of the third game.
Be sure to leave a review on how I did before you leave.
