6 AM

The animatronics had returned to the stage, showing no signs of their previous aggression. They were still; unmoving. Perhaps they were charging, or they were on stand-by again. Whatever the case, it didn't matter. There was no way he was going to last in his position alone; he clutched his broken arm with worry.

Sunlight was beginning to beam through the windows in the dining area, and a door was heard opening in the back, several voices accompanying it. The morning staff had just arrived; how ironic was it that they spent every day around these sadistic characters without an inkling of the danger they were in? How ironic was it that they spent every day around these metal coffins with rotting children inside?

"Mr. Schmidt..?" questioned a voice. It was easily identified as his nameless boss. "Here's your very first paycheck! Good job, sport!" The nameless boss handed him a check for 120 dollars, to a "valued employee". "I'll see you next week, champ!" he said, ruffling Mikey's cap.

Three dollars and forty-three cents an hour.

He was making below minimum wage.

He sighed loudly and stuffed the check into his pants pocket; guess this is what happens when you're below the age of twenty in the workforce. Mikey walked back to the office, only to find a startled security guard looking over the broken window.

"How in the hell did this happen?" barked the man.

Mr. Schmidt ignored him, rolling his eyes as he went to collect his things.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, new guy. What happened?" he demanded, blocking Mikey's path.

"Get out of my way, I need to get to the hospital," Mikey returned, clutching his clipboard to his chest. His arm was swollen and purple and in obvious need of getting looked at.

The security guard crossed his arms.

"Please get out of my way?" Mikey reiterated, assuming the man only wanted him to be polite.

"I hope you aren't considering to drive yourself to the hospital?" the man asked, though it didn't entirely sound like a question.

Mikey glanced to the side worriedly.

"Come on," the man huffed, grabbing Mikey by the arm. He was dragged to the man's small vehicle and tossed inside. The car took a while to start up; it wasn't exactly a luxury model, probably considered a mutt if you were to consider using dog terms. There was silence for a majority of the ride.

"I'm Jeremy Fitzgerald, day security guard. I've been working at Freddy's for six years since, well… Your first day, actually," the security guard started, attempting to start a conversation. "I used to have the night shift at our old location, back with the replacement models of the animatronics. You know, with the um… Oh what were they called… I think they were called the 'toy' models or something. Well, whatever they were, they didn't last a week before they were all scrapped. You can't beat the originals, am I right?" he laughed to himself.

Mikey stared dumbfounded at the man.

"You had the night shift?" Mikey asked.

"Oh yeah. I had to watch ten at a time," he sighed, looking uneasy. "Unlike you, I didn't have any doors… They crawled through the air vents, walked through the halls… One even climbed on the ceiling. The only thing I could do was put on one of those masks and hope they didn't look me in the eyes."

"You had the night shift…" Mikey stated, grabbing Jeremy by the arm.

"Yeah, for like five days," Jeremy replied, swatting his hand away. "Hey, could you let go? I'm trying to drive here."

"Start your shift early. Help me out," Mikey pleaded, tugging his arm.

"I can't do that, I already exceeded my maximum on overtime," Jeremy argued, frowning. "I'm not doing night shift again. Those things are crazy."

"Please!"

"No."

"Please! They're trying to kill me," Mikey yelled. "You're just going to let them kill me?"

Jeremy was quiet, looking relatively awkward and uncomfortable. He sighed loudly and smacked the steering wheel.

"I really shouldn't. It's your problem, not mine," he mumbled quietly.

"Jeremy-"

"I can be there at 4 tomorrow. No earlier," he groaned. "I'll loan you my mask for tonight."

12 AM

Bonnie was already at the door. Obviously the door was closed, but unlike before, Bonnie was not speaking. He groaned and twitched sporadically, and didn't respond to any of Mikey's conversation starters. What was worse is that he had been at the door for a while, and it was taking up a lot of energy, especially with Chica popping up constantly at the right door; she, of course, was not much better, if at all. If they kept this up he would have to resort to plan B, which was putting on the Freddy mask in hopes to fool the animatronics.

He rubbed at his casted arm and sighed.

Why was he still here? He wasn't even required to work tonight. Something lured him in… Something he couldn't escape from.

Was it the mystery? It couldn't be, as it was already solved; the five kids were murdered and stuffed in the suits, end of story.

Perhaps he was supposed to find out who had killed the children? That couldn't be it either; the article had said they had convicted the man who had done it.

What if it was the children themselves? That could make sense. A child who had lost his or her life, vandalized and put to rest inside of a robotic suit to rot and continue on singing stupid songs for an eternity in a crappy pizza joint with a crappy reputation, the same one in which their murders were associated with. It wasn't a pretty picture… But it was one he related to.

Maybe they want closure.

He checked Pirate's Cove, finding Foxy peering through the curtains.

Maybe he did, too.

He switched to the right hallway's camera and found Freddy standing in the corner, his black eyes filling the entire picture.

It's me.

Maybe he should let them take out their anger on him.

The power went out and the doors opened.

He quickly put the mask on, shaking madly in his chair. Bonnie and Chica entered the room, snapping their jaws and groaning loudly. They approached the chair. Mikey played dead, growing limp in the chair as they examined him. They faced each other and spoke, though he couldn't understand what was being said. It sounded so familiar… They exited the room.

Mikey finally exhaled, sitting up in the chair as he trembled. He kept the mask on as he left, fearing he might encounter someone on his way to turn the power on. Traversing the left hall, he made his way to the backstage. He froze as he approached Pirate's Cove.

Foxy was outside of the enclosure, staring wistfully into the camera on the wall. He held his breath and paced slowly past him. He could hear the sound of Foxy's head swiveling to monitor him, feel his eyes burning through the mask as if he knew Mikey was an imposter. Foxy did nothing but dart for the office, wailing loudly.

It had worked.

They didn't recognize him.

He was in the backstage area, staring at the opened door that led below. He stepped quietly down the metal stairs, making not a sound as he led himself through in the dark. Of all the nights, why had he forgotten his flashlight tonight? He reached a hand out, feeling for the wall- ah, yes, there it was. He felt at the ground, searching for the power coupling that had been unceremoniously unplugged; he found it and quickly hooked both ends together. He let out a loud sigh and began his ascent upstairs.

Bonnie loomed above, glitching and gurgling in illegible speak, as if he were possessed.

"Bonnie, no!" Mikey screamed, darting up the stairs.

He tripped.

His mask fell off and he hit his chin on the metal steps.

Bonnie slammed the door shut.

It was pitch black.

Mikey shook uncontrollably, climbing to the top of the stairs as he put the mask back on. He tried the door, but, of course, it was locked. He kicked and punched at the door, but cried out in pain as he clutched his broken arm. Was this to be the true end of Mikey Schmidt? Locked in the generator room, left in the dark to starve and dehydrate, left in this foul smelling place?

This place that… Smelled of rotting flesh.

Of blood.

Of death.

He held the guard rail as he traveled deeper into the building. Liquid squished underfoot. The smell grew stronger, even with the mask covering most of the smell. Flies buzzed. A red, blinking light shone above. He tripped over something large.

The light glowed.

He had tripped over Freddy.

The light glowed again.

Freddy's eye was dangling from its socket. Mikey grabbed it to put back in. It felt cold and slimy.

The light glowed again.

Mikey dropped the eye and shrieked in horror. There was a pool of blood around the Freddy costume. A muscle was attached to the eye. The human eye. The costume was limp and unmoving. Mikey was breathing heavily as he grabbed the head.

The light glowed again.

He pulled it off.

Blood spilled from the mask.

Maggots squirmed in and out of the head as it was freed from its prison.

A hat fell from the inside of the mask. A stupid hat with bear ears that read "security guard". A hat that was tinged black and partly eaten through, with hair and scalp dangling from it.

Mikey ran up the stairs, wailing loudly in terror, tripping on the metal stairs. He burst through the door and ran past Bonnie. Past Chica. And Foxy. Freddy. Screaming as he threw the mask to the floor. Screaming as he burst through the front doors into the warm sunlight. Tears fell as he collapsed onto the sidewalk.

He had fulfilled the phone guy's favor.