I'm sorry guys for this late update to the story. The holidays, school, and writer's block have been stopping me from writing. It's just been... difficult to write around here. I know it's a Wednesday but here's chapter four. Just know this came from writers' block.

Mike could only assume it was Freddy Fazbear, since he was the only creature there with brown fur. Just saying, it couldn't have been a Mexican.

Chapter 4

Mike cradled his broken fingers. He didn't want to move out of his chair with that brown thing moving around in the halls. He'd have to wait until Mr. Fazbear showed up. Of course, it didn't take very long for that creeper old man to show up...

The front door bell rang, signifying that someone just entered the restaurant. The sound surprised Mike. He jumped, moving his broken joints. His pain made him cry out, alerting Mr. Fazbear. He raced down the hallway fast for an old fellow. Mike checked his fingers that lay crooked in his other palm.

"What's wrong? You didn't lose your arm, did you? Why are you holding your hand like that?" He asked questionably. Bone could be seen under the skin, clearly broken. No bone protruded from the skin; it wasn't a sharp fracture from the bone. The knuckle was simply destroyed. "Hmm. I see the problem." Mr. Fazbear took Mike's hand from his lap, causing a yelp from the injured man. "Yeah, that doesn't look right... You should definitely get that looked at." Mr. Fazbear threw Mike his hand back. Mr. Fazbear looked at Mike to see tears streaming from the guy's eyes. "Now, now, mr. Schmidt. Just because you're hurt doesn't mean you have to play that little act on me to thank me. I knew you could see through my little wetting of my eyes." He looked back up at Mike, who looked a little angry, Mr. Fazbear having not understood any of this.

"Sir, my hand's been broken. I don't give a inch about your little eye wetting show the other day. I just want a doctor to fix me." He said, pain intertwined with his words.

"Then why are you crying? You don't care that I tricked you?" Mr. Fazbear's an ego-fed idiot.

"Sir, you just ground my shattered knuckles together. How could I not be crying?" Mike was leaning forward to get in his boss's face.

"... Why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't when you're hurting me to my core! Have you not broken anything?!" Mike was hurt emotionally now. "I rather go find a doctor now. My shift is over, I'm tired, and I'm in pain. Good morning." Mike Schmidt grabbed his cloak by the door and clasped it around his shoulders. Mike had difficulty only with one hand and being cautious of the other, but he managed. "Good morning." He left without giving his report of the the night.

The door to Mike's car was hard to close, a bit, being awkward. What's worse is he'd have to switch gears with that hand. Mike could hardly close his pinky finger and it wasn't even broken.

Suddenly, Mike though back to the Mexican in the security room. Why was he thinking of that now? Was it that it was calm now? Mike saw the intellectual gleam in it's camera eyes. The beast had brown, coarse fur that had been matted over the years of kids playing around with it. Two hand print stains the size of a child's on it's face were visible. Bits of it's fur was worn through so you could see it's endoskeleton. It turned on Mike and he jumped.

Mike woke with a start. He felt like he'd just died. A brown killer bear had just eaten him. Why'd he come back to this dumb job every night, he wondered. What he needed was a doctor for his hand. He put his mind on doctor. He'd kept the keys in the ignition and reached out with his right hand as usual. His finger brushed the keys. The jingled with he cringed. He'd forgotten so easily. He leaned to the right so he could reach forward with his left. Mike grasped the keys with difficulty and twisted. The engine clunked slowly but picked up life as Mike pressed on the gas pedal. It was enjoyable to knock Chica's head of and send it rolling. He had meant to destroy it with that plank of lumber. But I guess he got what he gave. The vibrations of the metal in the wood hurt Mike badly. His knuckles in his right hand were broken and swollen. He used his elbow and moved the clutch to reverse while trying to keep his hand safe. This is going to be interesting.

The tan hospital building in front of Mike was large, clean, and clear of almost all customers. Mike opened the door with some difficulty, it being on the left side and all. Mike Schmidt carefully removed his ass from his old ass car. He was tired. He wanted to get this over with. It was probably going to take up all of his day and his money.

Mike started for the automatic door. It slid open as soon as he within three feet of them. He was greeted immediately.

"Hello sir! How may we help you?" A grinning blonde nurse was waiting by the door. "Are you hurt or did you just come here to see these?" She held out her big boobs and rubbed them, pleasing her self.

"I'm sorry, but I have a few broken fingers." A look of disappointment came over her face. She took off her jacket and rubbed her breasts more vigorously, causing a moan from herself.

"C'mon! Just a little bit of fun?" She was horny, Mike could tell.

"No. Sorry. I just want my hand fixed. It hurts. I've been up all night. I want to go home and sleep so can you please cast it or something." He was exasperated with this sex hungry girl.

"Fine." The girl was heart-broken in her own way. "You'll find X-rays in room 204 and Casts in room 216." Now she was acting pissed.

"Thank you." Mike moved down the hall towards the X-ray room, he supposed. He'd need it casted, he knew.

"Sir? You're going to need a doctor!" The lady by the door called. Mike turned back with an annoyed look in his eye.

"So how can I get a doctor? I need a casting fast." Mike was impatient.

"Sir. You just need to sign this paper and go to the X-ray room and wait. A doctor will be there shortly." She pushed forward a clipboard with a paper on it. Mike pull up the pen on the desk to his left and signed the document on the desk. He then proceeded down the hallway. Up the flight of stairs and down that hallway.

The X-ray room was plain, the walls with only one decoration. It was a painting of a giant pear. The only other things in the room was a small table with two cabinets and the X-ray machine.

"Hello, sir." This girl had black hair. Her tag read 'Violet'. "Get on the X-ray table, please." Mike complied with the orders and lay back into the machine. The new doctor girl went to the side of the machine a turned it on. A loud humming started from it.

"Don't worry. It's almost perfectly safe. Worst you have to fear is cancer from the rays." The table inside started to move into the belly of the beast and the humming got louder, drowning out Violet's words.

After spending several minutes in the machine, that evil machine, and Violet said Mike could go to Casting. She'd Meet Mike there. She just had to print out the results. Mike stood and walked drearily down the hall a few rooms to 216. It had a painting of a wheel of cheese and a table just like in 204. Mike came in and sat down onto the table.

After, maybe, five minutes, Violet entered with a file. We have your results. You're going to need a cast. So I'll get started."

Thanks for keeping with me, no matter what. I am, again, sorry for this late chapter. I have been sick, Thanksgiving, St. Nicholas Day, and Writers' Block haven't given me almost no time to write. Send me an Email at Burgerofcheese15 , post a comment. Whatever. I'd just appreciate your feedback. Loweplays, signing out.