It was very dark. The vents opened at each side and straight on was a hallway, dark as the deepest night and open like a hungry mouth. The office was a lot different than he'd expected, much bigger and with no doors. This new location had surely been remixed and switched the mechanics he was familiar with. Where were the doors to protect him?
Blue eyes looked around, and they set down onto the little glass figurines on his desk. He huffed a short laugh to himself, reminded of that story he had told him. Jeremy had to admit, he was a stunning storyteller, and Jeremy had gone on to tell his story to his fourteen sisters, who listened with the same anticipation as he had done. Glass Mountain, he had called it, though the original storyteller had gave it no name.
Then the phone rang. Oh? He used to have phone calls, and the Phone Guy, as he called him, had met his fate at the mechanical hands of the animatronics.
Jeremy sighed and answered the call, preparing himself for the call.
"Uh... hello? Hello, hello?"
Jeremy wanted to answer, but the voice cut across him.
"Um... welcome to your new summer job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..."
Wait. Summer job? It was November! Jeremy listened uneasily to the direction on the phone, realising that these were pre-recorded messages of some time ago. It was summer when... that happened.
Soon enough the voice broke off into silence, and Jeremy pressed his palm up to his forehead. He just had to make it through the nights until his goal was completed, then he could do something more valuable with his life instead of being a mere nightguard. He had visited the restaurants at every opportunity he could when he was a kid, yet it accomplished nothing. So he decided to get closer and now he had a job.
"Uh... hello?"
The blood in Jeremy's veins froze over. The voice... it was the same one he'd just heard from the recorded phone call... and the phone was no longer activated. The voice was coming from directly behind him.
Very slowly, bit by bit, Jeremy looked behind, and his heart stopped.
There was a black shadow standing beside him. A tall shadow of a bear animatronic who's darkness seemed to suck in all the dim light from around him and fuse them into two glowing, whited-out eyes and rectangular animatronic teeth.
What in the name of goodness was that thing?
Jeremy stared at it, frozen from head to toe, waiting for it to do something, anything. But after a while he realised that the shadow, though its face was blacker than coal and its eyes were whiter than a wedding dress, had a pitying look upon its face. The nightguard closed his eyes and reopened them to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, but this was very real.
"Those are my old phone calls..." said the shadow, an odd tic of longing in its voice as it looked at Jeremy. "I was waiting for someone to listen to them..."
A brick of realisation hit Jeremy across the face. "You're the Phone Guy!" he exclaimed at the shadow.
Its robotic ears perked up. "Phone Guy? Is that the nickname I've been given...? I quite suit it, actually... don't I?"
Jeremy didn't reply past his bewilderment.
"You're looking for him, aren't you?" asked Phone Guy. He snorted when Jeremy nodded his head hesitantly. "He doesn't want to be found, but I assure you, he is here."
Hope rose in Jeremy's chest.
"But kid," the bear's shadow reached out with a huge black paw, as if asking for a handshake. "Thank you for playing those tapes."
"Uhh... you're welcome?" Jeremy replied, hesitating before he reached out and shook the black creature's hand. It was cold and rough, as if touching ice.
Just as he did so, the black bear disappeared into darkness, the soul trapped inside finally being put to rest.
Mike looked up at the clock. Five past one. Oh great. Why couldn't time pass faster? It was as if the hours were getting longer and longer, requiring more minutes to be complete. The clock, it was definitely not moving. At least when Mike was looking at it.
As for the animatronics, they seemed to back down slightly once they realised that Mike had a kid with him. Perhaps the little boy had a good omen surrounding him, or activated the animatronics' programming of being gentle towards children.
Maybe it was a good thing that the boy was with him?
But Mike wouldn't put his vote on it.
"What does that do Mr. Nightguard? What does this do Mr. Nightguard? Do you like Foxy Mr. Nightguard? I like Foxy a lot! Well... now that he's trying to get us, maybe not so much... But hey! I know we can make it!"
That kid would not shut up. Mike would bark at him to stay quiet, but the kid's solution to that was to drop his voice into a stage whisper, which somehow was even worse than when he talked normally. Mike was so relieved that he did not have children of his own. That would've been an unnecessary waste of money and valuable time and blood pressure.
"Did you know that spiders have transparent blood?" said the boy, sitting down on the desk among the fast food packets Mike had brought in and forgot to throw away.
"Fascinating," said Mike half-heartedly, not interested at all. What he really was worried about was the power loss. It was only a little past one o'clock, and the power was already down to 68%. This was terrible news. If the power went out, they would die. No doubts about it.
"Yeah! It is!" squealed the boy excitedly. "That's why when you squash them there's no red at all! My fourteen sisters are all scared of spiders, so when they see one they ask me to get rid of it!"
Mike tried his best to shut out the kid's useless rambling, but his voice was so annoying that it was impossible to not hear. Would death by animatronic really be worse than having to sit six hours listening to that boy babble on about nothing? Mike actually considered walking out into the corridors with outstretched arms and begging the animatronics to kill him. Though that wasn't the best idea.
"And like they have so many eyes as well! It's so creepy! In Minecraft they glow red in the dark! Do you think there's gigantic spiders like in Minecraft in some of the hotter countries?"
"Kid, do me a favour and shut your mouth for at least five minutes," Mike sighed, exhausted by just listening to the little boy. "The animatronics are going to get us if you don't be quiet."
"They haven't gotten us yet-"
The boy didn't get to finish his objection. Mike had jumped up and closed the door against the rabbit, who had thought to sneak up on them from the left. Great, more power to be drained. He looked over to his power metre, and his soul dropped to the core of the earth. How was it already 45%? What was draining so much power?
"Kid, I don't think we'll survive," said Mike eventually. "The power's below half, and it's being eaten away by god knows what!"
"This fan?" said the boy helpfully, pointing to the fan which was clattering on the desk next to him. Mike stared at him dumbfounded, biting his own tongue to punish himself for not thinking of that first. How dumb was he? It was probably the fan that ate away at the power he clutched on as if it was the last pockets of air in the universe.
"Good idea kid," he coughed awkwardly, unplugging the wretched thing at once. The fan stopped blowing the unnecessary cold air at them, and surely, the power stopped draining. He waited for a moment, watching the metre with expectant eyes. For a while he watched it, and the number didn't lower once. So Mike closed the other door, still not taking his eyes off the power metre, all while the boy hummed a catchy yet unfamiliar song. The number once again didn't lower. Not one bit.
The feeling was indescribable. It was exactly like trying to walk on your hands for your entire life, then realising you could walk on your legs instead. Mike hated himself for not coming up with that solution earlier, which would've spared him a lot of panicked shifts and brushes with death, but then again, his job from now on would be one hundred times easier.
"Nice going kid," Mike congratulated the kid, for the second time feeling relieved that the annoying boy had hid in the nightguard's office. Then it occurred to him that without needing to check on the doors every three seconds, he would have to spend all his time with that kid and his unbearable voice. But at Mike's praise, the little boy glowed with pride and gave him a gap-toothed grin.
"See! Maybe I'll be a nightguard like you one day!"
Before Mike could stop himself, he chuckled at him and smiled genuinely back. "You wouldn't want to waste your life like I do. I was that silent kid at the back of the class that didn't get anything the teachers said."
"That's just like my younger sister!" said the little boy. "She doesn't say much and always gets less than half marks on homework!"
"I got more than half marks on my assignments!" Mike objected. He felt like he was trying to justify himself way too much, but the kid knew how to structure his words to get at people. "How old are you even?"
"Seven!" the boy said cheerfully. "You?"
Mike hesitated as he sat back down in his chair. "I'm twenty four," he replied. "Mike Schmidt. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand out for a handshake. The boy somehow smiled wider as he shook his hand.
"My name's Jeremy! Jeremy Fitzgerald!" the boy introduced himself happily. "It's nice to meet you too Mike!"
Mike felt sorry for anyone named Jeremy. The name sounded like 'germ-y'; who in their right mind would name their child after an insult? But strangely it fitted this oddball of a boy, so well that he might've been born with a name tag that said 'Jeremy'.
He jumped when one of the animatronics knocked into the door, presumably Foxy. Its frustration was a shrill shriek. Knock knock. Knock knock. Mike peered cautiously at the power meter. Still 45%. Getting rid of that fan was just like getting rid of a parasite you didn't know you had, and now life was so much easier.
"Now they're not gonna get us!" sung Jeremy happily, swinging his legs where he was sitting. "Never! We're completely safe!"
Mike wished he could share his confidence. But what would the animatronics try now? Perhaps they would try breaking down the doors to get to them? But if they could they would've done it already, wouldn't they? The uncertainty gnawed at Mike relentlessly, not letting him hold a single thought in his mind.
"Don't jinx it kid," said Mike, shaking his head. He emptied his lungs of all air, and inhaled again before looking back down at his screen. Surely, the animatronics were more agitated now that there was something separating them from their prey.
As if in reply, Jeremy yawned loudly, closing his eyes. He reopened them forcefully a moment later, though they were already sticky with sleep. Of course, a little kid couldn't stay up all night. It just wasn't healthy.
"You're tired?" Mike asked rhetorically, though he already knew the answer. His whole being seemed to lift. If the boy fell asleep, maybe he wouldn't have to put up with his useless rambling anymore?
"Mm-hm," said Jeremy in agreement, nodding his little head. "Can I go to sleep?"
"Sure." On the outside Mike pretended to be indifferent, though inside he was celebrating.
He watched as the boy lay down on the desk, shifting around to get himself comfortable and pulled his hands into the sleeves of his jumper and closed his staring blue eyes.
For a while there was silence. Mike let his tense shoulders drop in relief. Perhaps night five wouldn't be so bad as he'd thought it would be. The power wasn't dropping, the animatronics were shut out, the annoying boy was going to fall asleep. Everything was heading in the good direction for once.
"Mike?"
The boy's voice shattered the pleasant silence once more. Mike didn't even try to hide his displeasement as he reluctantly looked up from his camera at the boy. "What now?"
The boy was laying on his side, facing him with sleepy eyes, not yet closed however. He looked at him, as if searching for comfort. "Could you tell me a bedtime story?"
Mike's heart dropped to his shoes. This was exactly like having an irritating bratty son. Why should he act like a babysitter to him when it wasn't in his job description? "Do I have to?"
"Uh-huh. I can't go to sleep without a bedtime story."
Mike couldn't help but put his hand up to his brow. Of course there was a price to pay for a bit of silence. Nothing was free in this world, he should know that by now.
Did Mike know any bedtime stories? His mother never told him any, nevermind his father. It was just lights out and go to sleep ya little ass-wipe and that was it. He didn't go to some elder like they did in the tales, one that would tell tales that would be passed on through generations. Mike didn't know those sort of tales. The closest he'd ever gotten to fairytales was reading those dark, twisted tales of the Brothers Grimm, but those were too dark for a child like Jeremy.
"Fine," Mike gave in finally. He'd have to make up a story as he went along. Perhaps he could make a dark adult's story children-friendly, or start something completely from scratch? Avoid cursing, sexual themes and gore and he should be fine. Hopefully. "A long time ago in a kingdom, far, far away..."
He had no idea if that was how all bedtime stories started, but those were how the cliches said it was, so Mike went with it. At worst it would make this child think he was more of a lame incompetent than he already was. Oh well. He wouldn't have to put up with him anymore once they've gotten out of here.
"... there lived... uh... an old cottage-person? Yeah. This old cottage-person worked day and night in his fields, hardly ever stopping to rest... This cottage-person... had three sons. The oldest... was a snobby, vain brat who looked at himself as the smartest and prettiest in all of the kingdom. The middle son... was... very fat and lazy, and he would sit in a chair or in his bed all day without moving so much as a finger. The youngest son... uh... worked hard in the fields with his dad and... was kind to animals?"
It seemed stupid, but Jeremy seemed to be already hooked onto the abomination Mike was coming up with. But for as absurd and half-baked as it was, it seemed to have a calming effect on them both, as if Mike was telling the story from somewhere safe, like next to a fireplace, and not in a moment of peril, locked in the nightguard's office surrounded by murderous animatronics out for blood.
"One day the old father called to his three sons to his bedside... and um... he said; "soon my time will come to an end. I have something to ask of the three of you. Bury me beneath the great oak tree, and each night one of you is to stand vigil at my grave. First the eldest, then the middle, then the youngest." And with his final request, the father was no more."
"He died?" Jeremy gasped. Mike shuddered. Wrong move!
"He... went to a better place," he said quickly before continuing. "The father was buried underneath the great oak tree, just like he had asked. But when time came for the first son to vigil, he turned to his youngest brother. "I need my beauty sleep. You're small and you're dumb. Go stand vigil for me, will you brother dearest?" The youngest son thought it was unfair, but ultimately agreed. So he went out into the night to stand vigil at his father's grave."
"What does vigil mean?" asked Jeremy.
"When you stay awake at night to stand guard or to pray or something like that," Mike explained. "Anyway, the youngest was standing vigil, when he saw something come out of the great oak tree. A... strange... um... tree person! A tree person that looked exactly like his dead father. "Where is the eldest son?" asked the tree person, looking the youngest son up and down. The littlest boy told him the whole story, and the tree person shook his head. "Give him this present, will you?" Then, out from behind the great oak came... a silver horse! A magnificent beast it was! So, just as he was asked, the youngest son gave the silver horse to the oldest son."
"He should've kept it! The oldest son didn't earn it!" Jeremy interrupted, though closed his mouth when Mike shook his head.
"Of course the oldest son was pleased with his gift. He strutted around with the silver horse down to the village, and soon he was known as the guy with a silver horse. But soon it was time for the middle son to stand vigil at the great oak. But when the time came, he in turn said to the youngest son- "I'm so tired I can't stand vigil at the great oak. You're small and you're lazy. Go stand vigil for me, will you brother dearest?" Once again the son thought it was unfair, but he went to stand vigil anyway."
Mike paused for a moment, but Jeremy pushed him to speak on, so Mike continued.
"Once again the tree person came out of the tree, and he was surprised to see the youngest boy again. "Where is the middle son?" asked the tree person, looking the youngest son up and down. The littlest boy told him the whole story, and the tree person shook his head. "Give him this present, will you?" Just like the other night, out from behind the tree came a horse, but this time it was a horse of pure gold. A brilliant horse it was, with a neigh so loud it could shatter glass. So once again, just as he was asked, the youngest son gave the golden horse to the middle son."
"That's unfair!" Jeremy objected. "The middle son didn't stand vigil!" He seemed pleased when he used the new word.
"Don't interrupt," Mike told him. "The middle son was over the moon that he'd received such a gift, though the eldest was mighty jealous that he'd been given the golden one instead of him. But then the two brothers began to speak. "I can see a pattern here," said the oldest son to the middle son. "As the nights go on, the horses get better." The middle son didn't understand, but he nodded his head anyway. "The youngest brat will probably get like a diamond horse or something," the oldest brother continued. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'll take the diamond horse. You can have your golden horse. And the little brat can have the silver horse." It sounded like a plan."
Mike was suddenly interrupted by loud knocking on the left door. Probably Foxy had tried to get in again. He eyed the power meter, and sighed in relief when he saw that it had still not gone down.
"So time came for the youngest brother to stand vigil at last. His older brothers taunted him relentlessly for it, but the youngest brother went to stand vigil anyway. Then the tree person came out of the great oak again. "You must be the youngest brother," said the tree person. "Here is a gift from your father." And out from behind the tree came a completely ordinary horse the colour of snow."
Jeremy opened his mouth to object, but he held back his words.
""This is not an ordinary horse," said the tree person. "This horse will obey every wild command you give it, and it will be absolutely fine. Trust me." The youngest brother seemed uncertain, but he believed the tree person anyway."
Mike paused again, thinking about what he should say next. His eyes set onto the glass window. That's it!
"A few days later, terrible news spread across the kingdom," Mike continued. "The king's daughter had been kidnapped by the neighbouring kingdom and held prisoner at a very high mountain of glass! The king sent out word that anyone that rescued the princess would receive her hand in marriage. Of course many young men in the kingdom stood up to the challenge. They tried climbing the mountain with all their strength and their horses, but the mountain of glass could not be climbed. All efforts seemed fruitless. Until the youngest son decided to stand up to the challenge. He went to the glass mountain, where many people camped around to try again on multiple days. They pointed at him and laughed. "Look at that boy with his pathetic horse! We've seen better things!" they cried. "There was a boy with a golden horse that came here before! And don't forget about the handsome boy on the silver horse! They couldn't make it up to the mountain!" But the youngest son did not listen to them. He patted his horse's neck and stood in front of the mountain. He closed his eyes against the world and..."
He looked over to Jeremy for clarification that he was still awake and not bored to death, but the blonde boy had wide eyes and gave Mike his full attention, pushing him to continue with the story.
"He lifted his head and raised his voice for all the people around to hear: "I wish my horse could fly!" For a while nothing happened, and the people had begun to laugh, but then the horse neighed loudly, and reared up. Two, massive feathered wings sprouted from its back, and the horse shot into the sky! Up, up the horse flew, and up into the princess' prison, and the boy rescued her from the unusual prison in the sky. Everyone who had laughed at him did not say anything, just lowered their heads in ultimate respect. So the youngest son married the princess... and everyone lived happily ever after?"
It was a strange story, one that Mike made up as he went along. It was probably the worst story known to humankind, filled with so many underdeveloped bits and plot holes. But Mike had paid the ridiculous fee of one bedtime story, so he fell silent and checked the cameras once more.
"I haven't heard that story before," Jeremy finally said. "You're a good storyteller Mike."
He yawned loudly and closed his eyes, voice trailing into nothingness as he promptly fell asleep.
The office had finally went silent, just like Mike had wanted it. But strangely it felt lonely without the boy rambling on about unimportant things to scare the silence away. Mike sighed, just now realising that he had liked the boy's company. Oh well. At least he could continue his job now that everything was relatively safe.
Knock knock.
Someone was knocking on the window.
Knock knock.
Mike gulped and shined the light into the corridor. A nasty chill went through him as the dark shape of the chicken appeared. The chicken had no eyes in its sockets, and the dim overhead light glistened off the sharp teeth. The robot was oozing blood and mucus from its jaws like a rabid dog, the rasping moaning now louder than ever. It was looking dead on at Mike. Truly, it was a revolting sight.
Before Mike could do anything, the chicken-bot rammed into the window with all its might, causing everything to shake uncontrollably. Mike jumped in fright and looked around for a weapon while the robot continued to ram against the window. At the back of his office Mike found a stray crowbar. Thank goodness for that! He was armed now!
Though what could a crowbar do against these murderous animatronics? At least it was better than going head-to-head with them with nothing at all.
But the chicken had given up once it realised that the double-panned window was too strong for it, so instead it stood staring at Mike, dripping more of the disgusting stuff out of its mouth, eyes not leaving him.
So Mike turned off the light, and the welcomed darkness swallowed the robot whole, but Mike knew it was still there, waiting to tare him limb from limb.
At least the power would not run out now, and both doors could be closed against the threats.
But Mike wasn't sure about their guaranteed safety. Those robots were smart, going fully against their programming to attack another human person. Why would they target people? Was the uprising to Terminator coming to pass or were the animatronics haunted?
Mike didn't want to stick around to know the answer to all these questions, but he had to stay until six am. That was when it was safe to go. He looked towards the sleeping kid.
The nightguard didn't know what he would do with himself if Jeremy died at the hands of the animatronics on his watch. Even though he barely knew the boy, he felt responsible for him, one might say protective even. He had to hold back the robots so that he and the kid could live.
He had to give it his all.