There's only one reason why Mike decided to go for a run today. The weather app on his phone declared with certainty that today, particularly in the morning, the sun would be masked by the clouds, creating cooler temperatures. It would be the perfect weather for a nice, long run.
I'm deleting the weather app, Mike thinks, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. His light green shirt is stained with sweat while his dark hair sticks to his forehead in a disgusting mess. The sun beats down on his shoulders and toned legs, unrestrained. Cool temperature my ass, you stupid app.
"Did you bring sunscreen?" Jeremy wheezes, the dark sunglasses placed on his nose bopping with every step he takes. Face dripping with sweat, his face resembles an overly ripe tomato. The black tank top he's wearing doesn't help his predicament, either.
"Nope, and you can thank the weather app for that," Mike mutters through his deep breathing. "I thought the sun wouldn't be out today." It would be bearable if there were trees or anything that created some kind of shade, but the path they're running on has nothing of the sort. Made of concrete and flanked with lovely pots of flowers, it's located by the beach. Onto the right of the path, there's a small hill where rich houses and businesses are located at. Not establishments that sell water, but exquisite hotels and banks. Unfortunately, the shade from the buildings doesn't reach the path.
If only I lived here, Mike wonders, glancing up at the houses as he jogs. The farther down the path he goes, the more businesses he sees. And the more hot he gets.
It's no secret that this path isn't meant for heavy running, but a slow walk to enjoy the scenery. With the sun sparkling off the waves of the water and the masses of people and excitement happening at the beach, Mike couldn't stay away. A perfect place to train for the state run next week.
At Jeremy's large gulp of air, Mike slows his pace. "At least that little patch of forest is up ahead," Mike assures, pointing ahead at the blur of green. Like the sides of the path, the 'forest' is regularly trimmed and taken care of. It's not considered a forest, but it's what Mike and Jeremy have dubbed it.
"Thank God, I feel like I'm roasting."
They fall into a comfortable silence punctured by their heavy breathing. It's something they're used to, being close friends and always training together. Both find running alone boring, even with earbuds in and playing loud music. The companionship while running, although sometimes silent, works best for their training. And afterwards, they usually cooled down together by stopping for a cold ice cream or casually walking and conversing about life.
"I forgot to ask, but when did you get those shoes? They look new," Jeremy asks, pointing to Mike's black and red Under Armour shoes.
"That's because they are. It was weird when I checked my bank account, because I saw that I had extra money. I don't have a clue where I got it, but I decided to use it on these shoes."
"Lucky. Could we stop and rest for a while? I think I'm getting heatstroke," Jeremy asks tentatively, his usually pale cheeks flushed.
"Of course. I think I'm starting to get affected by the sun, too," Mike smiles. He knows that Jeremy tries his best to keep up with his pace to show that they're equal runners, even if it means becoming sick or feeling faint. Never once has the younger man asked to slow down or voiced his physical condition while running, even when it's obvious to both of them that he'll faint if he runs any longer.
He must be feeling really crappy to ask that. Maybe he thinks that Mike won't want to run with him anymore if he voices his problems while they're running. Being a year younger than Mike, he probably looks up to him.
Jogging until they hit the cool shade of the light forest, they halt and relax. Wiping his face, Jeremy removes his sunglasses from his face and pockets them while Mike leans against a tree, staring off at the beautiful scenery. There's the gentle waves of the water, the elegantly trimmed trees and bushes, and businesses above them. One in particular catches Mike's attention, the one painted a light purple color. Squinting his eyes, he silently chuckles.
"What?" Jeremy asks, standing beside his friend curiously.
"Do you remember going there as a kid?" Pointing up to the restaurant a little ways away, Mike reads off the name on the glowing bulletin board on top of the building. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria."
"That place? With the creepy Chuck E. Cheese knockoffs?"
"Yeah, I think there was a bunny, a chicken, and for sure a bear. I loved them as kids."
"There was also a fox. I remember looking into his cove. You weren't supposed to, and security pulled me off the stage," Jeremy chuckles, shaking his head at the memory.
"I always knew you were born a troublemaker," Mike points out, stretching his legs. "Are you ready to go?"
"Think so, but if we pass by a shop, I'll need to stop for a water."
"That's fine." Jogging into the depths of the forest, both appreciate the musky and cool air. While Mike runs, he hears the sounds of branches cracking. It's understandable since they're in a forest, but they aren't running in the grass, but the clean concrete path. Glancing behind, Mike doesn't spot anyone trudging behind them. In fact, they're all alone, sending warnings to his brain. Reading recent stories about runners being abducted while training have been setting his nerves high.
When that crunching sound happens again, louder this time, Mike asks, "Hey, did you hear that?" Pausing, the two listen to the gentle waves and sounds of birds chirping. "It sounded like someone walking through the trees, but I can't see anyone."
"It could be an animal," Jeremy reckons. Uneasily, he takes a step back when he hears the loud crashing sound. "Make that a very large animal."
"Let's not go back," Mike cautions, eyeing the forest. "I have a bad feeling about this."
"You always have a bad feeling- Oh shit, I dropped my sunglasses," Jeremy frowns, checking his pockets.
"Was it the three hundred dollar pair?" Mike asks. At Jeremy's nod, he sighs and rubs his temples. "Well, let's look for them. But if we think something's going to come out of the forest, we're leaving the glasses until we can come back later."
Before they can start the search, their bodies freeze when something unexpectedly crashes from the forest and stops in the middle of the path. It examines them, then its eyes narrow.
"What the hell? Bears don't live here," Jeremy remarks with horror. His mind's telling him that it's impossible for them to move, that it must be a bear. An animal, not a machine.
"It's Freddy," Mike whispers, terror ripping through him when the bear glares at him with a snarl. "This can't be possible." Behind Freddy, his companions crash through the forest and stand beside him, staring at Mike with open hostility. Their eyes glow with hate.
At least they aren't giving Jeremy that look. Maybe they want something from me, then they'll leave peacefully. But that's short lived when he catches glimpses of their faces. Backing up as the animatronics start leisurely walking towards them, Freddy has this confident look, Chica's downright angry, Foxy's irritated, and Bonnie's livid.
"Let's make him pay," Freddy commands, pointing at Mike. "Kill him if we can."
Kill me?
"RUN!" Jeremy screams, and the two men are off. Despite the heat, they push their bodies to the extreme, the grass zipping past them in a blur as they run. It's good that their legs are accustomed to this kind of running and their endurance is high, always they would've already been captured by them. They're fast, but the men are faster. Behind them, the heavy breathing of the robots is audible.
Oddly, Mike feels this scratching feeling at the back of his mind as he dashes through the forest. Mainly about Freddy's hate-filled eyes, like he's seen them many times before. But where? He hasn't been to the pizzeria since he was a little boy.
"Mike, I hope you trip!" Chica calls out. "I can't wait to get my hands on you!"
"I'll rip into him first!" Foxy argues, his hook slashing through the air.
"Why the hell do they want to kill you?" Jeremy yells.
"It's none of your business, Mike's friend!" Bonnie hollers. "Get your large head out of it!"
"I don't know why!" Mike answers, frenzied.
"Stop lying!" Chica retorts. "You should remember your shift! You called me fat!"
A shift at the pizzeria? What are they talking about? But that does explain where I got that money from, if I did work there, but it still doesn't make sense.
Leaving the confines of the forest, they're met with the rest of the path forking to the left and an interstate to the right. "Cross the road!" Mike screams, adrenaline rushing through him as Foxy and the others rip out of the forest, only a few feet away. Without even looking both ways before crossing, Mike and Jeremy dash across the interstate. In their cars, people slam on the brakes and watch the chase with their mouths open. A large honking noise, a truck, screeches and a loud smash echoes as Mike and Jeremy safely cross to the other side of the road.
"Bonnie! Freddy, Bonnie isn't moving!" Chica screams as she crosses the road, her voice shaky.
Looking back, Mike spots Bonnie's destroyed body under the truck. People mill around the broken remains of Bonnie, confused looks on their faces. Foxy, the only one that stopped to examine his lost friend, slowly backs away from the messy destruction of metal and wires. Shaking his head, he starts for Freddy's group with a fierce determination in his eyes.
"Don't look back," Freddy says quietly to his companions. "We'll give Bonnie justice by capturing Mike. He was the one that hated the human the most."
"How can you guys leave him behind?!" Foxy hollers, catching up to the others, his face guilted. "You're treating his death like it was nothing!"
"Right now, we need to concentrate on capturing Mike. We can mourn Bonnie later. This will all be a waste if we don't capture him now!" Freddy bellows. "That accident slowed us down! We need to concentrate."
They soon hit town and cross several roads, both groups being more cautious about upcoming traffic due to Bonnie's destruction. People stop in their cars to point and gawk at the animatronics.
"Call the police! They're trying to kill us!" Jeremy screams at the people they pass. Immediately they take out their phones and start dialing, their faces fearful. When the robots near them, they scream and back away.
Past street shops and outdoor barbecues they go, their pursuers right behind them, a small crowd following the chaos with unmasked shock and fear. Many of them have their phones out, recording the action. When Jeremy and Mike cross another street, they glance back at the animatronics. Luckily, they're quite a distance away.
"Weren't there more than two?" Jeremy asks, glancing back at Freddy and Chica.
Mike's eyes widen. "Foxy." That's all he can get out before the fox crashes into him from the shadows of the buildings beside them. He must've went around the buildings to create the surprise attack. Cracking his head against the ground, Mike's vision swirls.
"Get off of him!" Jeremy demands, crying out when Foxy slams him in the stomach. His body hits the ground, his hand weakly clutching his stomach.
Catching up, the other animatronics kick Jeremy off to the side and crowd around Mike, blocking his view of the horrified crowd milling around them and his best friend's face.
"Doesn't it suck to feel helpless?" Freddy whispers, grabbing Mike by the neck. "You wouldn't remember because I took your memories away. I had to. When you were a night guard at the pizzeria, that is." He smiles when Mike's face starts to turn blue. "Don't you remember at all? What you said to us? What you did to me? Or how you offended all of us, especially Chica?"
"I'll-" Chica starts, her tiny mouth set in a firm line, then she gasps at the shrill sirens closing in. "The police! We need to leave now, Freddy!"
Not a moment later, the other animatronics hold onto Freddy's arm and with a blinding light, they disappear. Teleportation. Staring at the spot where Mike once was, Jeremy covers his mouth, his blue eyes tearing up. While police sirens drill into his ears, he silently whispers a prayer.
Waking in the dark room, Mike takes a few seconds to think. Where am I? A few seconds of pondering, he tries to scream as the past hour comes back to him, but something's tied around his lips. Bending her head down to examine his face, Chica laughs, her large eyes crazed. Off to the side of the table, sitting in a chair, Foxy continues making long scratches into Mike's leg with his bloody hook, leaving the skin appear mutilated.
"He's awake," Chica whispers, viciously slapping Mike's face. "Freddy left it up to us, Foxy. We can start." With tears in his eyes, he helplessly watches Chica grab something off to the side and present it. Long and sharp, it's a pocket knife. "For being rude to me while you were the night guard, I'm going to destroy your face." Using the tip of the knife, she brings it down on the side of Mike's face, beside his ear. When he whines and struggles against the binding holding him down, she digs it deeper. Moving it, she curves the line down to his lip. Blood drips onto the floor, and Mike feels it slither down his throat. If the binding was released from his face, his cries would fill the room. But there's nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing.
He isn't sure how many times she does this, but by the end, his body writhes with pain and tears run down his face, down through the cuts Chica carved.
"No one will ever look at you the same," she mutters quietly. "You do realize that?" With her revenge finished, she leaves the room, leaving the two alone.
As soon as the door shuts, Foxy stands. Towering over the man, Foxy spits into his face. "I'm going to destroy you, just like you destroyed Bonnie."
It's not my fault he was hit by a truck, Mike thinks weakly, his body throbbing with pain. There's not much to do when you're in a considerable amount of pain.
Using his hook, Foxy lightly touches Mike's mutilated leg, a small smile crossing his face. "I know you love running. That's what your future's based off of, isn't it?"
No, Mike thinks, a terrible feeling welling up in his chest. He doesn't dare move.
Turning his back onto the man, Foxy rummages through a box and takes out something long. Holding it out and waving it above Mike's face, Foxy laughs, "Aren't you afraid I'll drop this ax on your face? But I wouldn't do that since Chica's already ruined it." Suddenly, Foxy snaps the ax down onto Mike's upper thigh and laughs when Mike jolts and squeezes his eyes. When Foxy's ears are perked, he can hear a muffled scream.
"This is nothing compared to what Bonnie went through!" Foxy shouts into Mike's face, his bottom lip trembling. "Because of you, he's dead!"
Again and again the ax gets pummeled into Mike's leg, until something heavy hits the floor with a sickening splat. By then, Mike's vision is swimming. When he feels his other leg getting impaled, he allows himself to fall into the darkness, wishing death over waking up and seeing the horrifying results on his body.
"Mike!"
Cracking open an eye, Mike glances above and starts sobbing when it's Jeremy. At first, he had thought it would be the animatronics. The walls above are white, the air crisp and clean. He can hear several voices outside the room, loud and obnoxious. When he moves his head to look to the side, he sees a news reporter in a crisp suit and a man supporting a camera. For a second he hears the words, "Animatronics shot to death when found," but it could've just been his imagination.
"Please, don't cry." Suddenly, Jeremy covers his face and tears leak down his sunburned cheeks. How many hours it's been of sitting beside this bed, hearing Mike's distressed moans as he dreamed. "Please, don't."
"What happened?"
With tears still falling carelessly down, Jeremy hands Mike a mirror. Looking at his face, he gasps. Long cuts, now stitched, litter his face. He looks inhuman, more like an alien. Chica was right; no one will look at him the same.
Mike glances at Jeremy in surprise as the man sinks to his knees and buries his head into the soft, white blankets. "They did something else to you, Mike. I don't want to show you. I can't."
"What?" he whispers, wiping his eyes.
Raising his head, Jeremy gives him the most heart-broken look. Sluggishly, he grabs the blankets covering Mike's lower body and pulls them off.
At Mike's tortured wail, Jeremy stands and leaves the room, not capable of listening to his anguished cries any longer.