(Not Mike's POV, trying something different this chapter. Tell me what you think.)

~~~Loud footfalls sound as the maker of the noise attempted to be quiet, echoing in the somewhat bare room. They peeked their head inside, looking around. A bit frustrated, but undeterred, when failing to spot what they looked for, they walked softly inside, managing for some reason to make less noise on the tile. Perhaps it was just from years of practice that made the checkered surface easier to creep upon out of instinct or habit.

Whatever the case, they took to looking around, in corners and behind boxes that had obtained rather thick dust coats, almost like animals would in winter, only the dust never completely went away. Finally, they found what they were looking for. Or rather, who. A pair of red eyes sparkled in excitement for a moment, pausing to take in just how helpless the person looked there, all curled up... And shivering. And drooling a little.

But nonetheless, fairly adorable in how the tablet was cuddled like a stuffed animal, hat fallen down onto their knees and acting as a crude pillow. It wouldn't take much to get the human out of there, and all they needed to get was in the back. Large, purple-furred hands reached down, accompanied by a metallic, rusty creak-~~~

"GAH! Wha- where-? Whua-!" Mike jolted upright, a chill going down his spine at the sudden awakening. Looking around, he spotted an impatient looking man standing right in front of him, tapping their foot. Their hand was still raised, giving him the impression of what had woken him up out of the deepest sleep he'd managed to get in weeks, and why the left side of his jaw was sore.

Moving his torso up from the desk's surface to stretch, he felt and heard an array of cracks and clicks that all brought a tingly warmth with them. With a tired but conscious smile, Mike looked up at the man, leaning forward on his crossed arms as they pressed into the wood of the desk. "Yessir?" he slurred with a yawn he only realized to try and cover up midway.

The sigh of the manager was not a particularly encouraging one reassuring one to the new employee who had everything to lose. Namely, the pay he'd only get if he stayed the entire week.

"You wouldn't get up, and I needed to make sure that you were still-" the Manager suddenly cut himself off, eyes darting for a second, before regaining his composure. Mike, still out of it and half asleep, completely missed the unease and change of tone becoming forced, like one did when lying with a big smile. "Anyways, did you sleep the entire night instead of working?"

"Oh, no sir!" Mike's focus picked up at the prospect of potentially losing his only job. It'd been the first break he'd gotten in too long, and if he couldn't maintain rent, or support his minimum as it was shopping necessities... "I just fell asleep, not 20 minutes ago, at most. Just got tired, not used to staying up this late is all!"

The manager gave Mike a sweep over with his eyes, being quick enough about it that the employee, who was steadily walking up more and more, didn't catch on. Aside from a deepening crease in his forehead that could have been due to agitation, worry, or any other number of things, he added curtly,

"Make sure that it's only that long, Schmidt. And make sure to have that tablecloth washed before it gets used again."

Mike felt confused, blinking. "Wait, what tableclo-" but the man had already walked away, at a surprisingly quick and brisk pace, a door slam cutting the newbie off from his question. Feeling puzzled, Mike started to lean back onto his chair, when something bunched up behind him. As he turned to look back, a bunch of bright white and red grabbed him attention.

Draped over his shoulders was a red and white checkered tablecloth, just as his boss had mentioned. Mike didn't have a clue as to how it got on him- he hadn't left the room the entire night. He hadn't dared, not when-

Wait, how had he gotten out from under the desk? Last he recalled, he'd been cold, exhausted from being afraid for several hours straight and hyped up on adrenaline as a squirrel on marshmallows, and very numb from forcing himself into a tiny space in attempts to hide. Certainly not as comfortable as how he'd woken up as, in his chair and arms laid out over the desk, probably snoring again.

Confused and worried, Mike started to pull the tablecloth off of him, with minor difficulties as his muscles complained at their use so soon again. He got up with a groan, further stretching all 4 of his rather long limbs- or at least he'd always thought so- and when he rolled his head back to crack his neck some, he felt his hat slip off of his messy hair.

Turning around and bending down to pick it up, Mike also noticed that a folded piece of paper had been placed in his hat, peeking out from being displaced from the fall. Curious, he looked around to see if anyone was there, before unfolding it to see what it said.

His whole body stiffened, mind freezing in place before shooting off into what felt lie the past. As he stared at the paper, not reading what it said yet, a cold sensation gripped at his chest and throat. The lights seemed to flicker, though already dim as they were, and his breath was visible again.

Had he looked behind him, he would've seen a monster. A horrifying mass of metal and matted, rotting-away fur and degrading, somewhat exposed wire, with arms outstretched in an overhanging manner towards him. Jaw half-way unhinged, head angled and eyes void, pitch darkness held in circles that were unseeing and yet tracked everything that went on. It was almost glitch, in how it moved from solid, to see-through, to a mass of malevolent static in a basic outline of what it appeared to be. Transitioning almost too fast to see, a voice almost about to speak in his ear, when-

-the lights returned to normal, Mike blinked, a shiver traveling down his back from his shoulders as the strange, nauseating sensation passed him by, nothing recalled but some strange fear invoked. He shook his head cleared, and he paused, checking over his shoulder.

The monster was gone, like a ghost. Never seen, never heard, never there before it's already departed.

Giving a shrug, Mike chalked it up to his own paranoia again, and read the note. To his surprise and unease, it read, in a rough, hasty handwriting, having been folded multiple times, and off center for most times at that, 3 simple words:

"Welcome Back, Mike."