Night one.
Mike unplugged the phone. He closed the security panel and set it neatly on the desk. He flicked the lights to both hallways on and left them on.
"Fiesty one, you are," taunted a voice over the intercom.
"Not really," Mike sighed. "I'm leaving."
"What?"
Mike stood up, knocking the chair back and onto the floor. He calmly left the room.
"You're making a big mistake, Mike," the voice shuddered.
"No," Mike lulled.
He walked silently through the halls, past the kitchen, into the dining area. In front of the performance stage, where the three animatronics stood motionless, he stopped. He knelt, spread his arms wide, and spoke to the machines.
"I'm at the ending," Mike called. "Let's go together, all of us."
Freddy and Chica tore themselves from their stands and stumbled off the stage. Chica's eyes flickered rhythmically, spelling out "THANK YOU" in morse code. Mike nodded in acknowledgement.
"BUDDY?" flashed Freddy to the stage, where his companion stood motionless.
Bonnie strummed his guitar. "Here's another one for all y'all," his malfunctioning speech client rang.
"IT'S TIME TO GO," Chica urged.
"We're done, Bonnie," Mike said firmly. "We're all leaving. You're going to make your friends late."
"Kick it, chicken," Bonnie whirred.
Silence.
"One-two-three-four, one-two!" And the hollow sound of the guitar. Licking to the beat that wasn't being played, accompanying the vocals that weren't being sung.
The performance was broken by the frantic clang of metal feet. Foxy scrambled into the room, tossing himself into Chica's arms. If he had lungs, Mike thought, they would be hyperventilating.
"WE'RE SURROUNDED," Foxy's eyes flashed like novas; his approximation of shouting.
"HOW? BY WHO?" Chica flicked back.
As Bonnie resumed his droning guitar solo, Freddy and Mike stepped cautiously to the window. Mike peeked behind the curtain and saw a crowd. A crowd of a thousand animatronics - no, a thousand Bonnies, filling the parking lot and tapering off into the woods. "What...?" Mike whispered.
The crowd of Bonnies opened their mouth in unison. "ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!" they blared from oral speakers. It was the same voice that had called to Mike over the intercom.
"I DON'T WANT THIS," Foxy flashed, his lights dimmed and resigned.
"OH LORDY LORDY," Chica shimmered.
"PLEASE MY FAMILY PLEASE," Freddy begged.
"I want to go home," Mike whimpered.
The crowd of Bonnies rushed the doors and windows. Mike and the three animatronics did nothing to resist. They were swiftly trampled, not quite to death, not quite to disassembly. Blood and oil stained the floors as the crowd began cheering.
The original Bonnie took center stage and raised his arms. He lived for these moments. He did all of it for these moments. He loved this. The rest of the pizzeria was destroyed. But he loved this. He threw his head back and basked in the stage lights.
Night two.