"Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away,
My fair lady…"
2. Watch the Hours on the Clock
Fazbear's Fright in general seemed miserable and bleak. In all consideration, Mike supposed this was what they were aiming for. It was a horror attraction, after all. And it was no surprise it had cropped up during the early Fall. He had a sneaking suspicion they were gearing up for the following month—October.
Sitting in the massive delivery van, the young man sighed and let his head fall back against the head rest. He stared at the doors to the entrance, taking note of the gray, chilly weather and was glad he'd grabbed his jacket to put over his uniform. He figured the more he looked the part, the easier it would be to get the missing animatronic back. Spring…Sprungsomething, whatever it was called. Point was, it was a bunny—a Bonnie model, and it had shown up mysteriously at the horror attraction only two weeks ago. A week before that, Fazbear Fright had contacted the pizzeria and had the audacity to ask about spare props or some other nonsense.
Mike still wasn't happy about that call, or the letter that had proceeded it.
The van rocked uneasily on its wheels, and Mike shot a mild glare into the rearview mirror that he knew didn't go unnoticed. The van stopped moving. Turning his attention back to the one floor, gray building of Fazbear's Fright, the night guard chewed his lip and considered, not for the first time, if this was really such a good idea.
The gang's really worried, though…okay.
"Rule number five, Mikey." He reminded himself with a little gust of air as he killed the engine and pushed the door open.
He twisted around in the driver's seat, giving a look at the hunched bodies crammed into the backseat of the giant van. Cooperate had done something right for once, this gutted out trailer bus was perfect for moving the bots to those birthday parties for the disabled kids. Mike had even ventured them to a kid's hospital once—it had gone so well and the pay had been so good, that was the reason the pizzeria was getting new flooring.
The van was only a month at most old; it still had its blank white side, which Mike was grateful for. The less suspicion they rose, the better. He would rather people think there were Jehovah witnesses in here instead of the kid's entertainers that were staring back quietly. They could tell Mike was tired, he'd driven straight through the Sunday night and now it was mid Monday.
"You five stay in here—" He held up a hand before jaws could open and protest. "No, don't give me that look. I'll come and get you if I need, okay?" he promised, and this seemed to satisfy the trons for a moment. For now.
He did a mental check, wishing he could have convinced at least one of them to stay at home, but no dice. Patting the present box that sat in the passenger seat for good luck, Mike gave his coworkers a final stare—Stay. Put.—before he clambered out and stretched his drive-fatigued body.
Walking up to the building alone made him a bit nervous, but he knew if he showed the slightest bit of hesitation nothing he said would keep the bots from his heels. He didn't need to walk in here with the 6 foot bodyguards and ruin any chance at diplomacy.
'Here we go again Schmidt…'
The plan was to get in, get the animatronic back, and get the hell out. His biggest worry would hopefully be if the van would fit another body, though he had a feeling if push came to shove he could just throw the present box on someone's lap and open up a free seat.
The midday sun hadn't broken through the gray clouds yet, and a brisk autumn wind pushed lazily against the side of the building. From afar, Mike thought it was gloomy.
Up close, it was downright dismal.
When knocking on the door yielded no results, he tested the knob—found it opened—and headed inside after only a fraction of hesitation. After almost five months working at Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria, (and with six weeks of that employment being heart-poundingly life threatening) Mike knew the importance of split-second choices.
Sometimes they were the path to life or death.
The horror attraction was grimier than Freddy's when Mike first worked there. His job had turned into night guard, cleaner, dish washer and all around night-time handyman within three weeks of working there. He couldn't stand a mess.
But this…
This wasn't a mess.
It was organized chaos.
He almost walked head first into a Foxy head jutting from the wall, and the only reason he didn't was because he walked so hunched over. Glaring at it reproachfully—while hoping the working model wouldn't ever have to see it—Mike turned a corner and found himself down a long hall with even more paraphernalia. A light flickered weakly, in its death throes of illumination.
Following some noises down the hall, Mike turned the corners and traced the noise to a back room. It looked moderately like backstage, except the front room—the…stage—was missing. Weird.
"Uh…hello?" He tried, leaning around the corner.
The guy standing there jerked upright, twisting around. "Whoa, man!" total surfer dude. Mike blinked. "Scared the shit outta me! Hey, who are you, how'd you get in here?"
"The…door was unlocked?" Mike said slowly.
"Did Scott send you?"
"Sco—Erh, no." He entered the room fully—uniform tucked haphazardly into his blue pants. His cap was in the van, but he didn't need it.
"Hey, isn't that a—?" Shit, man. Not for the first time, Mike mused these guys had done their homework.
"Name's Mike Schmidt, and I'm a security guard…and sort of the day manager…of Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria."
For a moment, the guy stared at him in shock. Then his eyes widened, mouth dropping open.
"I'm Jake, man. Whoa, no way! Oh dude, you're like here—"
"Yeah, well. We just…"
"Wait! You're not here to sue, right?" The guy asked quickly.
"What? No!" Well, now the idea was crossing his mind. Mike shook his head and held his hands up in his best placating manner. Since he didn't seem to be in trouble, Jake turned his back dismissively on Mike, and he inwardly groaned. 'Man, this guy wouldn't last two minutes in—don't think about that.'
"Hey I'm sorry man, I've love to stay and chat. But the attraction opens in like, a week. We are in a crunch to get everything ready, y'know? It's way stressful, making sure this place is an authentic scary experience."
"Right. Stressful." Mike deadpanned, recalling the night-time hours stuck in a room with a building with limited power and, of course, murderous animatronics.
"Look, buddy, I'm…I'm actually here for the animatronic you found." He spoke quietly, feeling a little bad. The guy seemed pretty excited.
"Wait, what? Dude—"
"It's complicated and I'm sorry that I'm…threatening your authentic…nightmare horror thing here, but, you gotta know those things belong to the company, right? I mean…" He shrugged a little, giving his best sympathetic-I-wouldn't-if-I-didn't-have-to face.
Jake bit his lip, eyebrows furrowed.
"Can't we just keep it?" He pleaded. "For one night? I mean the things in shitty condition, dude. Smells like a fucking dead dog."
"I'm sorry it's not…up to me. You know, corporate. Guys can be real tight-asses." 'I am lying out my ass.' Mike's thoughts were deadpan. 'Thanks for the training, Phone Guy.'
"Yeah…well, alright. Fine." The guy turned and headed for the door, passing Mike. "I'll show you where it is." He carried a dejected and moderately annoyed tone, but Mike wasn't fazed.
As they left Mike turned off the light to the little make shift stage room. He noticed Jake paused, giving him a look.
"Rule number one." Mike supplied with a little grin as he followed the guy. "Gotta conserve power."
On the way to the back room, which was near the exit apparently, Mike got a good look around the horror attraction a second time. He winced at both the yellowed drawings they passed, and the stacks of presents in the corner.
'Forget Foxy. If Mari sees this, he's gonna use Jake's brains for slushies. I really hope I don't have to bring the gang in here…'
"Doesn't this occur to you that this…might be in poor taste? I mean. People died. Little kids."
"No—no I get it man, trust me. It was horrible. It was fucked up, yeah, and that's why we made The Fright." Jake explained. Mike wasn't sure it was much of an explanation, actually.
"Right." Mike stopped when Jake did. "Well? Where is it?"
"Uh…right here!' Jack gestured to an empty stand. Mike turned to stare at him. He was eerily good at it—Jack thought the guy didn't blink enough.
"O-or, it's supposed to be. Shit, what the fuck."
Mike looked around. No where a giant animatronic could hide, shadows or not. Something would be sticking out.
But the final room was void of any complete robots, shitty condition or whatever. Mike stared warily at the intact Exit door, but found nothing amiss. Knob wasn't broken. No scratches or scuffs.
No holes from a giant metal fist. So…no sign of an escape from the building.
"You're sure it's in this room? There's five others I went through—"
"Dude, no! I aint lying—it was here! Where the hell did it go?"
"Is there a chance Scott or, someone? Moved the animatronic?" But a familiar feeling of dread was filling his stomach.
"No way, man. One person can't move that thing on its own, it's super heavy. I've been here since eleven and I'm the only one in tonight until Ron comes."
"Ron…?"
"The night guard." That got him a stare from Mike, and it was a bit colder than before. The guy found himself shrinking back a little, and he slapped on a sheepish grin.
"Hey! We wanted to make the joint authentic—Ron's already worked here like two nights, he just sits there and practices his bit, y'know?" Jake straightened up, deciding he had no reason to be scared of this stick of a guy. "But, like, he's not gonna be in til twelve. He's usually late too."
"Ah." Mike moved on, thinking fast. "Was the door I came in the only one unlocked?"
"Uh, yeah. We don't really use the other two."
If it was moving on its own—then it wasn't following the normal 12-6 night roaming mode. Which made this animatronic old; old enough to have escaped the free-roam ban.
Fucking. Shit. I shoulda brought the guys in here. What if it thinks we're endos?
"What are these?" Mike asked, the old tapes sitting on the desk caught his eye. Their titles were smudged. But it had been years since he'd seen a cassette, so he assumed they had something to do the pizzeria and weren't like, ambiance tapes or something else. His haunch was right, because Jake light up and walked over to hold one up.
"I think they're like…training tapes? Dude, I've heard these, and they are prehistoric. We found em with the bunny-man."
With…? Okay. That might even the odds. There could be something useful on here.
"Hey do you…mind if I take a look at them?"
"Sure, yeah, no. Just take all the stuff from here why don't you—"
Mike ignored the other man pointedly. He was just gonna listen to them and then give them back. After that shitty comment though, Mike said nothing about it.
"We can go look through the security cameras—the room's right here."
"Alright." Mike reluctantly placed the tape in his pocket. He'd listen to it after they were in the security room. At least that would provide cover and protection. It was the only reason he put the training tape on hold, and followed Jake to the room. Luckily it was by the door he had previously come in. Which gave him an idea.
'Plan B. Plan B is fine, everything will be okay.' He thought to himself as he headed for the door and, instead of locking it, (Or running out screaming like Mike wanted to do. Fuck his hero complex with a rake.) Without a word of warning, the skinny guy leaned on the knob and stood half out of the building, staring toward the only vehicle in the parking lot.
"What are you doing, dude?"
"Huh? Oh. Rule number two—Hang on, wouldja?" He leaned out the building more and cupped a hand over his mouth. The wind stirred his hair. It was getting colder.
"Guys! STAFF MEETING!" He projected best he could, knowing they would know what he meant. For good measure, he added a "Get in here and quick!" He didn't like this door being open, where something could get in without him knowing.
Or out.
The van, which had been sitting uninterestingly in the parking lot, suddenly shook from inside. Mike felt more than saw Jake move up behind him—but the guy wasn't a threat. He forced his shoulders to relax, trying to squash months of carefully cultivated instincts that had kept him alive. Those hairs on the back of his neck had the senses of bloodhounds.
Finally, the van's door opened, and a tall figure in a black top hat ducked as it stomped down the stairs onto the cement. Mike felt a wave of relief wash over him, soothing the chilled ice in his veins.
"Fucking…" That was Jake's single breathed out word. Jake, who was looking around the door frame as he watched the things come out of the massive vehicle.
The bear turned its head to stare quietly in Mike's direction. Mike grinned at the choked noise from Jake's mouth. 'Take that, dude.' He mocked inwardly, and stepped back into Fazbear's Fright. He recalled Jake's query over his statement, and decided know was a good as time as any to answer him.
"Number two: Check your blindspots. Every camera has one. But!" Mike swept an appreciative, warm look over the gathered bots. Foxy slammed the door and pushed his jaw into place.
"With these guys, we won't have any."
Freddy say Mike's rare smug smile, and grinned back with a clench of gears.
The gang moved toward the building.
"Build it up with bricks and mortar,
Bricks and mortar, bricks and mortar,
Build it up with bricks and mortar,
My fair lady…"
Getting the ball rolling. I really enjoy writing this, so far.