A/N: hullo, this is my first story on here! I'd really appreciate any reviews to help me improve! My laptop is dead, so I can't use It like I usually do... I'm writing this on my iPad right now ovo"" also really confuses me (normally I use wattpad because I find it so much simpler, but I wanted to give this a shot as well). Also, I'm having trouble with section dividers, so I'm "testing" to see if they appear ^^ thanks! I do NOT own five nights at Freddy's! warning: there is swearing!
Mike Schmidt didn't particularly know why he'd taken the job. Perhaps it was the lack of free slots at McDonalds, or the apparent ease of being a nightwatchman. He had never really considered himself the active type. The very prospect of hurrying around amidst wave after wave of sweaty employees and spitting oil troughs was enough for him to skim over only one page of the job section. It didn't matter, really. The "help wanted page" as the title read, consisted mainly of product advertisements rather than actual jobs. Mike was surprised, to say in the least, that there even was a job vacancy, slotted tightly between several other adverts.
"Freddy Fazbears Pizza", it read. An oddly brief description of said job and a contact number at the bottom was all that was provided, apart from a... rather creepy image of a bloated brown bear animatronic. The job stated the security guard's sole purpose was to ensure no equipment was damaged and the animatronic mascots weren't to cause any trouble.
Mike raised his eyebrows as he glanced sideways at the picture. It was a joke, most probably. Robots wandering the ground in the the dead of night was not a particularly reassuring mental image, though Mike doubted the advert was entirely true. Surely, he thought, the animatronics would be switched off, if not kept safely in one room.
With the "animatronic issue" out of his mind, he found himself rather eager to begin his new job. Sitting on a chair, pointlessly checking cameras and sipping mango juice didn't sound like such a bad job. And even better, he was getting paid for it!
Freddy's FazBears Pizza sat on the corner of the downtown area. A block off the Main Street and a few more roads down, the building sat solemnly. Not too remarkable, Mike noted. The walls were coated in some kind of gelatin-like substance that came with age and the car park was suspiciously empty. By now, the distant sound of cars whizzing by down on the Main Street acted as the only reminder that Mike still stood in civilization. The area surrounding the Pizza Place was deathly still, the name of the restaurant glowing eerily in the impending darkness of night.
Something wasn't right.
Something about the aura the old pizza place gave off held Mike at bay and he wondered slowly and without realizing it, whether or not he should disregard the call he made to "an employee" earlier that day and head straight back home. It was logical; Mike's intuition never really failed him, but damn.. He needed this money, however little it was.
Forcing his feet onwards, he dragged himself to the entrance of the building, knocking tentatively on closed doors. A few seconds passed before a very distressed looking man flung the door open, almost knocking out Mike.
"I apologize!" He said hastily, stepping out and immediately slamming the door behind him. Mike, dazed as he was, nodded and held out a hand. Instead of shaking it, the man, who he assumed could only be the manager, thrust a pair of brass keys into his palm.
"Just watch out for the animatronics and make sure nothing breaks. The security room is down either of the corridors. You'll find it. Oh, and don't use up too much power or- or.. Just don't, you'll see when you're running low. Go in, quick." He shouted over his shoulder. Mike opened his mouth to speak but the manager had already rounded the corner, the last, hurried pads of his feet hitting concrete slowly dissipating into nothingness.
Slightly annoyed at the crappy job introduction, Mike glanced once more at the corner in which his manager had vanished before turning his attention to the door. The keys clicked as he turned them, surprisingly loud in the quiet night. Soon, he found himself standing in a large, almost pitch black hall. To his left, was a long corridor, an almost identical one to his right. In front of him, behind rows upon rows of tables was a stage and a dark purple curtain concealing whatever lay behind.
Being November, it was naturally cold. What felt off, was that Mike actually felt much, much colder inside than out. A draft wafting in from an unknown source tickled at his face and he instinctively drew his arms together. The entrance door had closed on its own accord.
Before making his way to find the security room, he locked the door. Arms still crossed tightly, Mike crossed the rows of tables to the left corridor, past the stage. There was something about the curtain he was grateful for. Normally, people didn't like things hidden from their view. Masks, for example. They hid the identity of the wearer, showing instead a fake representation of the person, or thing hidden beneath. However, in this current situation, Mike felt the complete opposite. For some reason, he didn't want to see what lay behind those curtains
The manager didn't really have to say much about the location of the security room. It was, indeed, relatively easy to find. It was just down either of the corridors. This, Mike realized quickly as he saw the other corridor to his right as he entered the room.
The room itself was quite insignificant. A simple desk, cluttered with seemingly random bits and bobs and numerous posters and drawings drawn by kids. He turned his attention to the most prominent poster; a colourful, but undoubtedly creepy image of what he guessed were the animatronics in daylight. Yep, that was definitely Freddy, or whatever he was called- the one he'd seen in the advertisement. The other was a deep purple bunny, sporting a bright red bow tie to match his eyes. To Freddy's left, had to be the most terrifying rendition of a chicken-duck thing Mike had ever seen. In all honestly, they were all freaky as hell.
Next, he turned his attention to the kids drawings. Crudely sketched pictures of much more innocent looking mascots. Charming, in a way, but how a child could ever even look at such creepy animatronics without getting nightmares was a mystery. Maybe in daylight they-
Thump, thump
"what the f-" Mike spun around instantly, straining his ears. The restaurant was silent, albeit the light clicks and whirring of the monitors and fan. But no, he was sure he'd heard something. Was it just a figment of his imagina-
Thump, Thump, Thump
Mike felt the blood stop flowing through his body, if only for a second. There was no denying it, something was out there. And that something sounded terrifyingly close.
What the f*ck is going on? What is that? What do I do?
What Mike did was the first thing his brain told him to. Perhaps it remembered the earlier conversation he had had over the phone earlier that day, the voice of some unknown "employee" telling him about buttons and cameras. Or it was the fact that a glowing button illuminating the room almost screamed "press me!" Either way, Mike was far too panicked to care. His palm slammed so hard into the button, he clutched it to his chest for a few seconds, gritting his teeth in pain. The next thing he saw when he switched the camera on for the dining room was a demonic chicken-duck gaping straight at the camera, beak hanging lopsidedly, displaying a terrifying three sets of teeth. At that, Mike very nearly passed out.
2am
Holy hell
Oh sh*t
What had he done
What had he done
Mike sat before the monitor, eyes glued to the door, then the screen, then the door. What was he to do?
Two hours wasn't really much.
Not if you were sitting on a comfortable couch in the warm confines of your home, watching game shows on television. Mike's "television" however, was not so entertaining. For the past two hours, he had been watching three animatronics: a bunny, a bear and a chicken-duck (he could not exactly establish a clear animal from the appearance of the beast). The bunny, or "Bonnie" as he had learnt from the papers and posters strewn about the room was his main priority. He often disappeared from view, causing Mike to desperately scour the cameras in search of even a hint of purple. Bonnie, it seemed, liked to play games.
Freddy Fazbear had so far, stayed put backstage. Mike had never felt so relieved to see the brown bastard sitting silently, in the exact same position.
"Chica" wasn't too much of a problem. Still a problem, as anything Mike saw this night, but not as big a problem as the other mascots. Above all, she seemed mostly to enjoy scaring Mike by gazing intently at any available camera, beak hanging down like the close mechanism was busted. She did an excellent job, seeing as Mike felt close to dying of heart failure whenever he caught so much as a glimpse of her on the feed.
Most frightening however, was the glimmer of light he caught from behind the curtains of "Pirate Cove." Eyes, staring almost expectantly at the camera, but the bearer of such eyes never really coming into view. It seemed like it never would. So what was the point? Mike thought to himself it's a waste of energy to use the camera anyway. And so, he began to halt his time-to-time checks on Pirate Cove, despite the odd feeling he had made the wrong decision.
As the night progressed, Mike pondered over the words of "phone guy" as he called him. A past employee, he had said he was, more specifically, Mike's predecessor, the past security guard. Phone Guy was, in affect, his most valuable source of guidance. His douche of a manager hadn't so much as given him any tips and he hadn't even seen a single employee. He now understood why; if he had to work in Freddy's, he would be the first out at the end of the night, off in his car and going at 80 miles per hour in a beeline for home.
He wished with all his heart that he could do that now, but he couldn't. For a start, he didn't dare even leave the security room. Certainly not after what phone guy had told him...
"They'll probably try to... forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh."
He shivered as he recalled those words. If it weren't for Phone Guy, he would be dead right now, no doubt about it. That, in itself was a thought enough to drive him to slam both buttons simultaneously. All in good time as well. Chica had suddenly appeared, seemingly an apparition, directly outside the window.
Mike's breath hitched as the unfeeling gaze bore into his eyes, bright purple to blue. If she wanted too, one kick or thrust could easily destroy the thin sheet of glass that separated them. He could envision it, conjure up his apparent death in his mind, of that chicken-duck-devil stepping slowly into the room. He had never really expected his death to lie in the hands of a soulless robot, maybe an epic skydiving attempt fail, but not... Not this.
Go away, he pleaded in his mind go away, go away, go away, go away.
4am, two more hours, 20 percent power remaining...
"GO AWAY!"
The nightwatchman swiftly shut his mouth, his own words startling him. What was he doing? Shouting? Right now? He couldn't afford to attract anymore attention to his tiny office, not when those grostesque animatronics were already after him. He hadn't expected it to work either. It was, after all, simply an outburst of emotion. Not a spell or charm that was guaranteed to rid security guards of demonic robots. So when the right hallway light flashed eerily, revealing the absence of certain chicken-duck, something heavy dropped to pit of his stomach. "Relief" was a total understatement in this moment in time.
Mike breathed heavily, eyes wide, heart pounding uncontrollably. He could very well cry right there, bawl like a five year old. And he wouldn't even give a crap.
He hated being caught off guard. Hated it.
It was 5am when Mike checked Pirate Cove, having accidentally clicked on it whilst trying to access another room. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
The curtain was thrown wide open, with no sign of the luminous eyes he had seen so many hours ago. Instantly, he was on full-on panic mode (he wasn't entirely sure why, but heck, there had been something there before, hadn't there?) Moving on instinct alone, he punched both buttons and was immediately aware of the sharp bang as something hit the door, as well as the disappearance of a few percent of power. He stared in awe at the right door for some moments before he almost fainted for the second time that night.
"Let me in! C'mon, you bastard!"