Mike Schmidt was, put simply, not a very rich man.
In fact, when he got off of the evening bus and made his way to his brand spanking new job, all he could think about was how excited he was to get his end of the week wage of $120. Why, that would be enough money to net him hot meals for the rest of the week!
Mike had become rather accustomed to cold showers and frozen waffles throughout the past year since he had left his parent's house, so this would be a very welcome change for him. If he managed to save up enough, he may even be able to afford a microwave by the end of the month; that alone was his incentive for taking this job.
Thus far, Mike's life had been one of utter discomfort - ever since he left his parent's house, that is. He had gone from a relatively content life in a nice, comfortable house to sheer bankrupt misery in a grotty little flat. He wouldn't dare tell his parents, though. He may have been 23, but this was pretty much the first year that he had ever lived for nobody but himself. If his mom or dad ever somehow heard about how he was living now, they'd never let him out of the house again.
On that note, he noticed he had reached his destination.
Nervously, he looked up at the large, bubbly text that was positioned just above the set of double doors that he used to so relish bursting through, still glowing its bright, proud yellow after all these years. He felt slightly comforted by its warm, welcoming glow. 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria', the sign boldly signalled. He muttered to himself, "Alright, Mike. Professionalism. Just like dad taught you."
Mike licked his thumb and ran it through his hair, smoothing it. He had always figured appearance was key when it came to netting jobs. After smoothing out his clothing, he pushed open the doors, puffing his chest out confidently and striding forwards with his gaze held high.
So high, in fact, that he didn't notice the 'Wet Floor' sign directly in front of him until his foot slipped out in front of him, his body attempting to follow behind. Now in a sorry heap on the floor, Mike couldn't help but yell out a profanity or two before frantically getting up and attempting to fix the one grubby suit that he had on. Once again, first impressions were key. He didn't want to meet his employer looking like a used mop.
Speaking of employers, Mike was startled by a voice that was not his own coming from behind him.
He whirled around, being mindful of the wet floor this time, and stared at the source of the voice; it was quite obviously his employer, judging by his formal attire, the sophisticated air he had about him and the way that he was holding the keys to the pizzeria in his hand. He was an aged man, with grey hair that matched the colour of his suit. He wore a red tie, and had rather noticeable crow's feet beside his eyes. He looked at Mike for a second or two before speaking.
"And you would be…?"
"H-Hm? Oh! Oh, sorry. Uh, my name's Mike. Mike Schmidt. I-I'm, er, here for the night shift?"
Mike mentally scolded himself for his nervousness. 'Smooth as a sack of gravel, dumbass.' He thought to himself.
"Ah! You're Mike! Well, where are my manners? Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, Mike! I have no doubt you'll love it here." Mike's employer greeted politely, casually spinning the keys to the establishment in his hand. He spoke with a British accent. "If you'll just follow me, I'll show you to your office. No time to look around today, you see. Your shift begins in two minutes!" He stated, quickly ushering Mike along. Mike was rather disappointed, considering he loved this place as a kid. He was raring to see what had become of the animatronic animals he had once loved so dearly.
Unfortunately, the opportunity did not arise, as Mike's employer took a shortcut through Pirate Cove. Mike couldn't help but notice how tattered the purple, starry curtain was - as well as the 'Out of Order' sign just in front of it. Foxy had been his favourite as a kid; it hurt to see such history in his life be closed down so simply.
Mike's employer stopped at one of the large steel doorframes that led into Mike's office, pushing him in gently. He tossed him a cap and body warmer that Mike hadn't seen him holding beforehand, Mike fumbling to catch them. He sat down in the large leather chair in the middle of the office, looking at the new clothing. The hat was labelled, 'SECURITY' and the body warmer had a goofy looking image of a pizza slice next to a poorly-made I.D. card on the right breast that had his name scrawled on it and nothing else. Mike looked up, giving the man a funny look.
"Put them on," He said, smiling strangely. "All of our security guards wear it."
Mike inspected the clothing once more before standing up to put on the body warmer. There was a single minute left until 12AM.
"One of our more experienced security guards will fill you in in more detail once your shift starts. Enjoy yourself, Mike."
Mike nodded at him briskly as he continued to stand there, almost entirely still. Simply watching him with dark brown eyes. Mike looked down at the cap and put it on.
When he looked away from the cap once more, his employer was gone.
Wide eyed, he quickly looked outside the door he had been propped up against. Nothing. Not even the door at the far end of the hall swinging, even slightly. Just him being there one second, and gone the next.
Mike stood pondering how the man could have just disappeared for a few seconds longer before half-heartedly passing it off as the man simply being in a rush. Either that, or he was seeing things. No more curdled milk before his nightshifts from now on.
Mike slowly made his way back to his seat, plopping down onto it tiredly. He groaned as he realised he had forgotten to bring his lunch. Well, it was either him that groaned or his stomach, anyway.
Mike started as the large phone on his desk began to ring. He pressed the brick phone to his ear, slightly annoyed at being bested in mental warfare by a non-sentient device, before realising it was an automated message. He exasperatedly waited. After two rings, the message began. He was surprised to hear a man who sounded younger than him on the other end, considering this was meant to be the 'more experienced' security guard. Nonetheless, Mike sat back in his chair and listened to what this 'Phone Guy' had to say.
Fast forward two hours later, just after the comforting sound of another human voice had left Mike's ears, and he was frantically sifting through security camera feeds on his complimentary company tablet, paler than a ghost. For what felt like the thousandth time that night, he changed over to the Show Stage camera. He was about to move on once more, the novelty of seeing his favourite characters once more after so many years lost after hearing just how serious this job was, before he noticed something was...off.
Didn't Freddy's band consist of three animatronics?
Suddenly, it clicked. It clicked faster than a speeding bullet.
A certain purple bunny was gone.
Bonnie had moved.
Bonnie was missing.
Bonnie was looking for him.
Mike's eyes widened, sheer terror causing him to shift through his camera feeds at an even faster rate, before quickly stopping at the Backstage camera. Empty plastic eyes stared back at him as Bonnie stood right in front of the camera.
Mike let loose a brief - but loud - scream before the camera feed abruptly cut out. Frantically, he tried the other cameras. All static. A few seconds later, they came back on, but Bonnie had left the Backstage area. Mike's eyes darted rapidly across the screen as he looked for Bonnie through each feed, soon stopping at the West Hall feed.
Bonnie was now a few meters away from Mike's office.
Mike was terrified. It was only 3AM, for God's sake! The flickering light straight above Bonnie's decrepit, purple head did not help in calming Mike down.
Mike had now simply taken to staring at Bonnie. He had very quickly figured out that the animatronics seemed to want to play a very morbid game of 'Red Light, Green Light' with him, and, well, he was more than happy to oblige if it meant he could walk out of here alive.
He didn't want to die to an angry group of fursuits.
However, it appeared that Bonnie didn't want to play fair. Once more he cut out Mike's camera feed, forcing him to alternate between checking the West Hall Corner and looking for Bonnie in the camera's blind spot. He didn't want to close the door just yet - he only had 36% of his power left.
He screamed out in horror as he was met with a vacant, hollow gaze upon turning on the West Hall Corner's light for the umpteenth time.
He did not hesitate to shut the door in the face of the seemingly homicidal purple rabbit this time, that's for sure.
An unnervingly organic sounding wheezing noise began to emanate from the other side of Mike's only line of defence in this hellhole as he heard something heavy begin to hit the metal door.
Slowly, with the door still closed, Mike clicked the light button once more. He peered through the window at Bonnie's forebodingly large shadow raising his large hand to smack Mike's door, draining him of power. By now, Mike's teeth had begun to tremble. He checked his watch rapidly, seeing that it was 4:23 AM. Still an hour and forty minutes of this crap. Damn.
With Bonnie temporarily occupied, Mike quickly moved on to checking some of the other cameras. As long as the thumping was audible, Bonnie was still at his door.
He checked the Show Stage once more, instantly noticing the alarming lack of a certain petite chicken alongside Freddy.
Mike bit his lip to stop a swear word from being blurted out and looked for her through the cameras. He stopped as he heard cluttering in the Kitchen area. Even though he wasn't able to see through the camera, he just knew that she was in there. Pots and pans didn't make that much noise from a slight breeze hitting them.
Finally, the pounding at Mike's door stopped. Mike looked off to the side and breathed a sigh of relief. He checked his power and panic instantly swelled up within him once more.
19%.
He had to last another hour and a half on 19% power.
'I thought this night was meant to be easy?!' Mike thought as he scrambled to open the door, not even checking his lights again for fear of using too much power in one go. He quickly came to regret that decision.
He opened the door to a pair of luminescent purple eyes as a bulky mechanical arm came surging out of the blackness towards him almost immediately.
Out of sheer reflexive action, Mike surged backwards, sinking into his chair and screaming as Bonnie's chunky arm merely skimmed his nose. Even that left Mike seeing stars. Bonnie once again tried to grab Mike from the darkness of the doorway, surging towards his shoulder in an attempt to force him out of his seat.
The adrenaline coursing through Mike's veins, as well as the disadvantageous position Bonnie had put himself in by having to lean forwards to grab Mike, allowed the 'helpless' security guard to deliver a fleeting kick to Bonnie's mask, staggering the animatronic slightly. Bonnie's jaw unhinged slightly, allowing Mike to see the disconcerting sight of the purple bunny's endoskeleton mouth sitting at the back of his throat.
Bonnie stumbled slightly further back into the darkness, his large feet supporting him enough to stop him from falling over. Mike, seeing the opportunity, quickly sat up and smacked the door button once more. Bonnie lunged, and Mike heard a heavy thud from the other side of the - now closed - door.
He heard a loud screeching noise, followed soon after by the heavy sound of metal hitting metal once more. Mike picked up his tablet, energetic and sweaty, just in time to watch Bonnie hurry back down the West Hall corridor and smack the door on the far end of the corridor open; apparently, he forgot to disable the camera whilst moving.
Mike smiled smugly to himself before remembering a very potent threat - Chica. He was so caught up in his brawl against Bonnie that he completely forgot to check on Chica. He now had to compromise by, once more, frantically checking his cameras for the small yellow chicken. He turned over to his East Hall camera, only to be met with a wide open beak and a wide-eyed blue stare as Chica was mere meters away from his door. Strangely, instead of panicking, Mike found himself pondering just why Chica, despite having no teeth - mostly due to a rather risqué redesign - had unnervingly uncanny looking endoskeleton teeth.
Suddenly, Phone Guy's words from earlier in the night came back to haunt him.
Despite the fan in the room, Mike was incredibly clammy and sweaty as he anxiously waited for either Chica or Bonnie to come clambering down the hallway once more. Strangely, Chica was staying put, the spring chicken seemingly fine with simply standing a relatively safe distance away from Mike. And he was fine with that.
Mike checked his watch once more.
5:48 AM.
Jesus, he had been waiting for that long?! He had to hand it to the animatronics; they certainly knew how to build up tension for a big dramatic finish. Mike was left wondering just when they'd put all that build-up to good use.
5:55 AM. Five minutes to go. Five minutes and he could go straight back home; back to his bug-infested bed.
Quite frankly, he would have slept on a bed of hot coals just to get a bit of shut-eye. He was just so...tired.
So tired, in fact, that he had completely missed the fact that he had forgot to turn off his tablet after using it to check up on Chica once again. He had 1% of his power left. Mike gasped in horror, panic rapidly swelling in his chest.
Chica was right outside. If the power went out, and he couldn't shut his doors at all...well. He didn't even want to think about it. His parents always told him that he had beautiful eyes, but Mike definitely didn't want to make them have to look at them being popped out the front of a Freddy mask.
Mike bit his nails as he waited with bated breath for the arrival of 6 AM.
5:56.
5:57.
5:58.
5:5-huh?
Mike started as a loud humming noise reverberated throughout the building and he was bathed in darkness.
His head darted up, looking at the door to his right with rapid, shallow breaths.
She could just walk in whenever the hell she liked.
But she didn't.
It was then that Mike heard a song that was oddly familiar to him - 'Toreador March'. A hauntingly memorable piece, no doubt, but why was he remembering it only now, with death looming over him?
Wait.
That wasn't in his head.
He slowly pivoted his head to the left, just enough to see a pair of glowing yellow eyes and teeth.
Mike resisted the urge to scream. This was not Bonnie. This one's eyes were green. It was also very, VERY tall. The eyes leered down at him from the very top of the doorway, flickering faintly in the darkness. Then, just as quickly as it had began, 'Toreador March' halted its haunting serenade and Mike was bathed in darkness once more.
After a few seconds, the very faint sound of - obviously purposely muffled - footsteps sounded; closer and closer they came. Mike could smell a putrid mixture of rot and rust, and he desperately wanted to gag. But he knew that doing so would get him killed even faster.
Then, like lightning, the eyes and teeth began glowing again - a foot or two away from his chair. He gazed up into the malicious, empty eyes of Freddy Fazbear himself as the enormous bear raised his arms to grab the helpless night guard, whom could only scream in pure terror as Freddy's open maw descended towards Mike's skull; his endoskeleton teeth shimmering slightly as they closed in.
He stopped.
Inches away from Mike's forehead.
Arms still outstretched.
Gaping maw still wide open.
Eyes now showing resentment and a severe lack of mercy.
But still, as if the bear were made of stone.
Then, slowly, very slowly, reluctantly, even, he began to straighten up once more, his arms lowering to rest his sides once more. His mouth closed once more.
Mike merely sat, lip quivering as a few small whimpers escaped his dry throat. Hesitantly, he checked his watch.
6:01 AM.
Mike looked up once more at the towering animatronic, whom was soon joined by Bonnie and Chica as they slowly entered the room. Freddy's face - his cold, calculating face - adopted a forced air of happiness about it, as did Bonnie's and Chica. His eyes un-narrowed, twitching slightly in an attempt to revert back to their devious look but failing.
His arm slowly raised, beginning to wave and also twitching slightly. His arm did not move, rather simply moving his grimy hand from side to side. He backed away from Mike's chair slightly as his mouth opened once more. He played a pre-recorded voice clip, stuttery and glitchy due to years of abandonment.
"T-Thanks-s fo-for com-coming to F-F-Freddy's Pizzzzeria, k-kid! It's-s b-b-been a ton of f-fun! S-See ya tom-m-morrow!"
Mike sat stock-still for only a few seconds before practically flying out of his seat and down the hall, not even thinking about looking behind him.
He bolted to the door - just as his employer, conveniently, unlocked it. Mike skidded to a stop in front of him, the wet floor having dried off by now. Only now did he hesitantly look behind him once more, half expecting to see Freddy thundering after him. Not an animatronic to be seen.
Mike's employer beamed at him with that strange smile of his.
"See? I told you it wouldn't be so bad!" He said, patting the exhausted night watchman on the shoulder.
"N-No you didn't." Mike muttered, still heavily shaken from what had transpired that day.
"Oh, didn't I? Huh. Well."
"L-Listen, uh, sir?" Mike said quietly, pleading to God that this would work.
"Hm? What is it?"
"Could I, maybe, erm, oh, I dunno, er, be moved to the day shift?" He asked, his facial expression not-so-silently begging the tall British man.
"Ooh, sorry, Mikey. We already have a day shift guy. If we needed another, we would have advertised it! Am I right?" He scoffed.
Mike's smile faltered slightly.
"R-Right. Er, could I maybe, just, er, resign, then?" Mike half-heartedly grinned, attempting to be as polite as possible.
"Ooh. Looks like someone didn't read the contract, hehe." The suited man said, fiddling with his shirt collar awkwardly. "Sorry, Mr. Schmidt, but you're legally inclined to work here for at least a week before you can resign. If, er, if you try to resign sooner than that, then I'm afraid you'll be going against the entirety of Fazbear Enterprises, and we'll be forced to take severe legal action. Now, I don't think either of us wants that."
He spoke cheerfully, but his eyes withheld a barely-concealed threat.
To say Mike was devastated was a severe understatement. But he remained silent. He knew he couldn't win a court case like that.
He simply smiled at his employer and slowly walked out of the building.
He was silently smiling as he got onto the bus.
He was silently smiling as he got off and made his way home.
He was silently smiling as he opened the door to his house.
He silently smiled as he crawled under his bed-sheets, face down, and began to scream into his pillow.
This was going to be a long week.