Vulpine Biology

A fox is a wolf who sends flowers. – Ruth Brown

To those unfortunate enough to have covered a night shift at Freddy's, fear isn't just a four letter word. It's made of mostly metal, has a murderous appetite, and – if you're very unlucky – it also has a tail. FemaleOC/Foxy.

Mike Schimdt wasn't the first to survive.

That much was obvious. Those cryptic phone calls he'd received during those harrowing five nights didn't come from beyond the grave. No, someone had been out there. Someone warned him. And however profoundly scarred and paranoid he was now, he wouldn't have been alive if it wasn't for that voice on the answering machine.

Now, what was less obvious was that he probably wasn't the last. Maybe the last to survive, but not the last to enter. There would probably be others – alone in that dimly lit room, completely oblivious to the horrors they would face.

But do something heroic like, say, confronting his old boss? Ha. There was a reason he kept coming back to that hellhole, despite the danger it presented to his endoskeleton. And it had everything to do with the fact that the deranged manager had subtly informed him that an 'incident' might occur to him and his family if… well, let's just leave it at this: he wasn't about to risk more than his neck for some stranger.

But he could do one thing. One that he knew was at least remotely safe.

He could return the favor. Pay it forward, so to say.

So, at exactly 12:34 am, he picked up his phone. He held it for a while, sighing with hesitation several times, before he finally dialed a number.

Several miles away, a high-pitched ringing made a darkly dressed girl jolt out of a light slumber. With a grunt of annoyance, she pulled the receiver closer with one of the boots she'd plopped on top of the security desk. Before she could say anything, however, Mike Schimdt began to urgently whisper:

"You need to get out of there."

She was startled… initially. But after her mind processed his message as a ruse, she slapped the phone back down, rolling her eyes with annoyance.

It rang again. Several times. Until, brimming with rage, she snatched it up again.

"If you think this is some sort of hilarious prank call, I swear to God –"

"No, no, no, this is not a prank call. God, who even does that anymore? That's the most – " he coughed, realizing there was no time for digression, and began to speak more calmly.

"Listen, I used to work there. And – "

"Oh, so you're the guy my boss was talking about." She interrupted, flipping a braid of auburn hair over her should as she dropped her feet to the ground. "The smelly one that wreaked of hobo."

"What? No. Well, yes, but I didn't smell." He reanalyzed that statement. "And if I did, it's because those goddamn animatronics trying to murder me every night."

Oh yeah. That's why I called in the first place, isn't it? He remembered, furrowing his eyebrows with determination.

"Look at the security cameras." He ordered. "Have any of them moved?"

"What, the robot animals?" she asked sardonically. Nevertheless, she pressed the button that activated the security feed. That's when she almost dropped the phone.

"H-he's gone." Said the girl numbly.

"Which one? Is it Freddy or Chica or – "

"The fox." She said in a hollow voice.

"Foxy?" Mike sounded confused. "Wait… how did you even know there was a fox behind that curtain?"

"Because," she began slowly, and he could hear the creaking floor beneath her feet as she backed away from someone. Something. "He's right here."

"Jesus Christ," the man on the phone deadpanned. "I am so, so sorry…"

The line went dead. And she let the phone fall from her hand.

This didn't startle the fox. In fact, it seemed to be analyzing her, watching her movements curiously.

"I'm Sarah." She told it, holding her arms up in surrender. "I don't mean any –."

She couldn't finish her sentence. But that mattered very little compared to the fact that there was a mechanical fox lunging towards her.

It was too late to run. In a frail effort to defend herself, she lifted both her forearms, wailing in pain as the fox sunk his razor-like teeth into them.

She'd never been bitten before. Not by a dog, a bird… and certainly never by a possessed animatronic. But the sight of blood dripping across her skin and the warmth emanating from those cherry-red rivulets processed faster than the pain. Which, she realized soon enough, was excruciating.

The fox suddenly unsnapped its jaws from her arm, allowing the uncorked wounds to gush freely. Narrowing its yellow eyes at her, it spoke.

"Familiar."

She stood there, frozen like a deer before an armada of headlights. Her panicked reflection stared back at her within the emotionless orbs of the robot, blinking away tears from her gray eyes as the creature eventually continued.

"The little g-zzzzt-irl." Its voice deepened to the point of crackling, lifting a claw – hand? Paw? – to her cheek. The sharp edges of its metallic fingertips could have made ribbons of her pale skin. But they didn't. Not yet, at least.

Sparks erupted from the back of the foxes head, causing it to stumble back and grasp at its cranium in apparent agony. She heard it whimper to itself, almost mournfully, before dropping onto its knees.

Something inside her came to life upon seeing the fox distracted. Without a second thought, she sped into the corridor just outside of the office, feeling her way desperately through the pitch darkness.

A fire escape. A window. She hadn't seen any of those on the walk towards her post, leaving the main exit through the front of the building her only option.

"I see you." Whispered a soft voice. With a yelp, Sarah fumbled faster through the obscurity until she noticed a light. At first glance, the white glow emanating from them drew her in like a spastic moth to a flame, but she stopped dead in her tracks when the light moved.

"Ah, crap." She hissed, turning heel and running in the opposite direction. Noises, even chattering began to echo within the Freddy Fazbears'. And if it wasn't for being supremely preoccupied with not dying, she'd have sworn the walls were mocking her. Toying with her.

"Let's play!" squealed a voice from up ahead. Narrowing her eyes, she recognized the chicken robot – Chica, the guy on the phone had called it. She diverted course immediately, but there wasn't even time to curse before she saw the silhouette of a bear - the infamous Freddy himself – blocking the other side of the hallway.

She was feeling light-headed. And the continuous leak of blood from her arm likely wasn't helping.

"What is it that you want?!" she pleaded, pressing her back up against the wall.

They didn't answer. She hadn't expected them to.

"Goddammit." She muttered with finality, steeling her nerves as the shadowy forms closed in on her.

There was a flash of yellow, then she was on the ground. After several second of being disoriented, she realized that the fox was hovering over her on all fours, growling violently at the two other animatronics.

It was hard to hear it clearly over all the static, but she knew what he was telling the others:

"Mine. All mine."

"Awwwww!" moaned Chica.

"He caught the rule-breaker ." Freddy grunted in response, turning slowly to leave them. "He gets to play." As he did, the fox leaned closer to her. Causing the stench of blood and metal to fill her nose.

"I need you to scream." He breathed into her ear.

That should have been easy enough to do, considering that every fiber in her body was already doing so. But her lips felt numb. And she was turning very, very pale.

"My apologies, lassie." He soothed, edging the hem of her shirt upward to expose the flesh beneath it. With only a trace of hesitation, he cut into it with the very tip of a single claw.

Her scream filled the air as the world became even darker.