After that, as far as Mike was concerned, he was no longer working for Freddy Fazbear's. He was, in fact, working for Freddy Fazbear himself. Along with Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy the Pirate.

Because, frankly, anyone who would pay him thirty bucks an hour for (sometimes literally) sleeping on the job, well, they were entitled to a lot of leeway, when it came to everything else.

That's not to say that Mike didn't still slam the doors in their faces whenever he was bored and felt like being an asshole, but even that had lost a lot of its charm since they always just walked away and texted 'sorry' whenever that happened.

His daily routine had altered somewhat drastically in the last few weeks from what it had been when he'd first started. He'd get up around eight or nine, do his makeup, and watch the news while he ate breakfast.

Not that he was really a makeup kind of guy; he just didn't think it would be a good thing if people noticed that the dark circles under his eyes had disappeared. Change led to suspicion, and suspicion led to investigation.

After that, he'd throw whatever packages had come in the mail into the car and head to work, making sure to flip off any members of management he passed on the way in. These were always few and far between, but it had happened before, and it was always fun when it did. Then he'd dump the mail onto the stage and head into the office to catch up on his stories.

He'd still check the camera feeds, of course, but if there was anything that got past the four animatronics, then Mike was sure as hell that he wouldn't be able to deal with it.

Besides, Mike was also sure that this peaceful calm wouldn't last forever, and probably wouldn't even last for long. Something was gonna give.

At that point, it probably wouldn't be Mike. He'd been much less suicidal since his debtors had all simultaneously sent him letters congratulating him on the repayment of his loans. He was also raking in the dough at work. He could buy new clothes before his old ones fell completely apart, and he never had to skip meals anymore. Last week, he'd even gone to a movie.

No, his newly-acquired money was on one of two causes:

The animatronics, for one, could easily decide that he knew too much and needed to die. If that was what happened, Mike didn't see any way to stop it. They'd found out where his house was, what his phone number was. He was pretty sure that they could find him, even if he tried to run. Nothing he could do about that one, and he had no way of knowing how likely it was, to start with.

But the most likely scenario, he thought, was that something would go wrong in upper management. Either the company would finally fail, or someone would make a stupid decision that caused the company to fail.

And then the animatronics would be slated for shutdown.

God only knew what would happen then.