Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.
It only took a split second for Mike to know he was not going to be able to close the door this time.
He stared at Bonnie, and Bonnie stared back at him. The animatronic's eyes were wide open, as always, but instead of making the bunny look threatening, it gave the impression that he was absolutely horrified. Not as horrified as the guard in front of him, though.
"Shit…"
That was about as much as he could say before the animatronic grabbed both his arms with a strong grip. The tablet was thrown in the air as the guard struggled to release himself, having very little results. The animatronic was clearly much stronger than him, dragging him out the office with seemingly little effort. As much as he kicked and squirmed, the purple bunny was having no problems with pulling him across the west hall.
"Let – me – go!" Mike yelled, trying to push his arms away from Bonnie's grasp at every word. His breathing was becoming irregular from the struggle and the fear. All of the guard's experience in fighting was not serving him much here; he had never fought against a robot before after all.
Bonnie kept looking at him with the same horrified expression, making an odd noise. It sounded like he was trying to talk but his throat was restricted by something. Mike looked back as he kept fighting against the animatronic's strength, seeing where he was being dragged to – the backroom.
Fufufu…
Freddy emerged from the backroom, walking solemnly towards the hall as he carried an empty suit. He took off his hat as if showing his respects for the departed and looked up at Bonnie and Mike.
His stomach shrank to the size of a peanut. It wasn't a prank. All of Phil's warnings were true. He was going to get stuffed into that suit if he didn't get away from Bonnie.
He doubled his efforts, a rush of adrenaline aiding him on increasing his strength. The animatronic stopped moving, and for a second, Mike thought he was actually succeeding on fighting it off.
But he was wrong.
Bonnie was looking in front, his look of horror still present. As Mike followed his look, he saw it. That yellow bear again. But this time, he was standing, and his empty eye sockets had a faint golden glow. The guard's eyes locked in with that faint glow. Then, something told him, he wasn't sure what, that he was not there to hurt him.
The yellow bear took one step.
"IT'S ME"
It was as if a train had suddenly crossed the hall. A strong wind made some of the drawings displayed on the wall fly away. The floor, walls and ceiling vibrated as if there was an earthquake. Bonnie staggered back, finally letting go of Mike.
The guard took the chance to get away from the bunny, looking back at him for a split second. The bunny no longer looked horrified, but saddened, staring at the yellow bear. Mike staggered towards the yellow bear, who did not move from his spot, apparently waiting for him. Mike looked up at him, panting. The yellow bear moved his head in his direction.
"… Go"
With that, the yellow bear dissipated in a golden mist. Mike didn't wait for him to reappear and sprinted towards his office. But he wasn't the only one. He could hear heavy steps running just as fast after him. And there was only one animatronic, as far as he knew, that could run.
He reached the door just in time for a sharp pain on his shoulder to confirm the identity of his chaser. A hook had managed to stab Mike's shoulder, and Foxy was attempting to pull him away from the office's door. He winced and looked back to glare at the fox animatronic.
The animatronics were not gonna have their way this time. Mike used his other hand to yank the hook away and reverse-kicked Foxy. Weakened from years of disuse, the animatronic obviously did not possess the same strength as Bonnie and was thrown back against the wall. Mike entered the office, punching the door button.
The door closed. The guard fell on his knees, holding his injured shoulder. It was bleeding abundantly. Yanking the hook off like that only made the cut worse. But it didn't matter. At least he was alive to heal it off.
He got up slowly, breathing heavily, and picked up the tablet, which had miraculously landed on the chair. Freddy was gone again, and Foxy was back in Pirate Cove. Bonnie was still in the west hall, in the same spot where Mike had left him. He was staring at the ground. Slowly, the bunny moved his hands and buried his face in them. It almost looked like he was crying. But why? Did he feel sorry for almost killing Mike?
And to think he had spent the past three days thinking it was all a big joke. He knew better now. If that night had served for something, it was to show him just how real everything was. Phil wasn't lying. The animatronics really would kill him if he didn't take things seriously. Phil and the other guards weren't just chilling at the office, recording scary messages for fun. They had all fought for their lives there. And some had died… Phil fought them off for four months, and even recorded messages for the next guard while he was doing it. But he wasn't the only one who had tried to warn Mike…
He glanced at his right, and turned on the door light. Chica was still there. She blinked when she saw Mike. Her expression wasn't much different from before, but now there seemed to be a glint of relief in her eyes.
"… You warned me…" the guard muttered, still looking at the chicken. "You warned me about Bonnie…"
The chicken looked at the monitors. Mike looked at them too. He only had 3% of power left. Great. Just what he needed.
He sighed and made some pressure on his shoulder. Now that the adrenaline was fading away, it was hurting more. He would have to get it checked. It was only going to get Claire worried…
He checked his watch. 5h57. Well, at least there were only three minutes left until the end of his shift.
Mike leaned back on the chair. He was surprised with himself. He didn't feel scared anymore. He could only guess that the job was making him tougher – all of those scares did do some good after all.
There wasn't much else he could do at that point but wait. That yellow bear probably wouldn't show up to save his ass again. What was that thing anyway? He didn't know what to make of him. He had disappeared, just like… a ghost? His voice sounded so much like Phil's… And he had managed to make Bonnie get away. Mike glanced at the tablet again. Bonnie still had his face hidden in his hands, standing on the west hall. Could it be that he didn't mean to attack him? Could there truly be something wrong with his programming that made him do it?
His train of thought was interrupted by a loud sound. The lights went off. He had run out of power.
There was no way he could keep them away this time. He couldn't close the doors now, and he was injured. If he had struggled to fight off Bonnie completely healthy, there was no way he'd get away from him in his current condition. Remembering that Phil had suggested he'd try playing dead if he got caught, he went limp. He hadn't even thought about trying it before, when Bonnie was at the door, but then again, the bunny had seen him move, so it probably wouldn't have done him any good.
Music then started playing. A cheerful music, that sounded eerily out of place. Mike recognized it as being a song called the "Toreador March" or something. His mother loved those kinds of classics, operas and the sort. He had grown up being forced to listen to them, which, naturally, made him hate them with a passion.
Accompanying the music, there were a pair of eyes and teeth flickering in the darkness. Mike could guess who they belonged to – Freddy. He stayed still. He wasn't going to move. It didn't matter how much his shoulder ached. It didn't matter that he was getting the chair stained with blood. He was not going to move. He was going to glare at that stupid bear for an hour if he had to…
But he didn't have to.
6 A.M.
Never before had Mike loved the sound of his alarm ringing more. He almost laughed with relief. He turned his gaze towards the right door, in time to see Chica walking away. He checked the tablet. Bonnie was still on the west hall, but now he was making weird gestures. He repeated the same gestures three times, staring at the camera.
Mike frowned. What was he doing? They were supposed to move back to the stage at 6 A.M., right?
"… Is that sign language?" he thought.
He had no idea what Bonnie was trying to say, since he didn't know sign language. He opened the two drawers on the desk, looking for a notebook. There was one on the right drawer, along with a pen. He wrote down the description of the gestures Bonnie was making and ripped the page out. Chica had tried contacting him, so Bonnie was probably doing the same. Even though the bunny had almost killed him, Mike wanted to know what they were trying to tell him. It would probably be helpful information for the next guard.
Yes, because Mike had no intentions on staying on that job any longer now. He was not going to risk his life for 120 dollars a week. Once he got his shoulder taken care of, he would return to the pizzeria to tell Lawrence he quit. He was done with that place.
*2 Days Ago*
Mike stared at the white ceiling for a long time, waiting. The hospital was packed with patients. Doctors and nurses were running back and forth to attend every single one of them. No one seemed to be in serious condition, asides from that guy who had gotten into a bad car accident. From what Mike had heard, the car that hit him had gotten away by the time the police arrived.
"How is his condition?" asked a male doctor with a mustache.
The other doctor shook his head as they both passed Mike. "We lost him. Both him and his son. A fifteen-year old…"
Mike took his eyes off the ceiling to look at the two doctors. Damn, fifteen? And the bastard that hit them ran off…
"Michael Schmidt?"
He looked around to see who had called him. A female doctor with brown short hair smiled at him and gestured for him to follow her. He got up and followed her towards one of the rooms, sitting on a chair.
"Injured shoulder?" the doctor asked.
She had a very attractive face and a pleasant voice. While she bent over to check Mike's shoulder, she placed a hand on her belly. Her belly was a bit round, and seemed out of place considering her figure, so he suspected she was pregnant. Her name tag read "Patricia McKinley".
He nodded as response to her question.
"How did that happen?"
Mike thought for a second. The honest answer – "I was attacked by a pirate robot that stabbed me with his hook" – sounded stupid, even in his thoughts.
"I, uh… got into a fight…" It was kind of true…
The doctor looked at him. "Break in?"
"Excuse me?"
"Was there a break in? At Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?"
Mike stared at her. "How do you know I work there?"
She smiled. "That's the night guard uniform. My brother was a night guard there too, so I know how it looks like."
"Oh…" He took a quick glance at the sleeve of his shirt, turned to shreds. He hadn't even thought about it – Lawrence would not be happy about his ruined uniform… Not that it mattered, he wouldn't be working for him anymore… "No, there wasn't a break in… it was on my way home…"
He looked at the doctor while she cleaned his wound. So her brother had worked as a night guard as well? Hopefully he wasn't one of the "missing" ones…
"The wound is a bit deep, but as long as you don't exert yourself, it should heal just fine. No exercising, no using your right arm, for at least one week," the doctor ordered. She wrapped bandages around his shoulder and turned to her desk. "And… take some analgesics, and these just to avoid any possible infection." She showed him a paper which had the names of the pills he was supposed to take.
Mike nodded, standing up as he received the prescription. "Alright, thanks doctor."
She smiled as he left, closing the door behind him. He poked his shoulder lightly. It ached a little, but it was nowhere near as painful as it was an hour ago.
He made his way out of the hospital, passing by the pediatric section. There was only a woman there, next to what Mike assumed to be her son. She was translating what the nurse was telling her to her son by using sign language. The kid was deaf.
Mike suddenly remembered. He took out the piece of paper in which he had written down the gestures Bonnie had made and walked towards the woman, just as the nurse went away.
"Excuse me, ma'am…" he called.
"Yes? May I help you?" She took her son's hand, who looked up at Mike in interest.
"Sorry to bother you, but, I saw you using sign language to talk to your son… Do you think you could translate these?" He showed her the piece of paper.
She nodded. "Certainly…" She took the paper and read it carefully, while Mike looked at her son. The little boy immediately beamed at him. Mike made a small smile in response, but focused his attention on the woman.
She finished reading and returned him the paper. "Well, I don't know in which circumstances you received this message, but what they were saying was something along the lines of: 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't hate me'."
Mike was taken aback by that translation. Bonnie was apologizing. 'Please don't hate me'… That part almost made him feel sorry for the bunny. He remembered the way he seemed to be crying after Mike had gotten away from him. He was getting more and more convinced that both Bonnie and Chica didn't really mean any harm, but were for some reason forced to go after him.
But what could be controlling them…?
Oh well. It wasn't his problem. He threw the paper with Bonnie's sign language away once he got out of the hospital. He found, however, another piece of paper in his pocket. The one with Phil's phone number. He had completely forgotten about that.
Mike picked up his phone and dialed the number that was on the paper. He might as well try and talk with him. It rang for a while.
No response.
"Hm… must be busy. I'll try some other time," Mike thought.
"Come again?"
Lawrence stared at Mike from his desk. His expression was blank, but his eyes were slightly wide in surprise.
"What you heard. I quit," Mike repeated, staring back at Lawrence. It was difficult. With the older man's sharp eyes, it was like staring at an eagle.
The manager raised an eyebrow, his face now showing an expression of unimpressed disbelief. "Well, I have to say I'm surprised. Wasn't expecting a kid who's so full of himself to just quit."
Mike's eye twitched. "Not a kid."
"You do realize that a night guard's job is to ensure others' safety, right? It is to be expected that you may, along the line, sustain some injuries. Yet you're quitting over that little cut?" He gestured at his injured shoulder vaguely.
"'Little cut'?" Mike repeated annoyed. He then pressed his hands on the desk, bending over so his face was leveled with Lawrence's. "One of those fucking animatronics stabbed me. They attacked me, just like they attack every single night guard here."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lawrence grunted. He was obviously enjoying the opportunity to mock the new guard.
"Oh you sure as hell do. The last guard left messages – yeah, that's right," he added triumphantly as Lawrence looked at him surprised. "He told me exactly what you sick bastards do when a guard dies and warned me about the animatronics. If it wasn't for him, I would have died on the first night!"
Lawrence recovered from his surprise and glared at Mike, his eyes cold as ice. The latter moved away from him out of instinct. "Now that would have been a shame," he muttered, in a slow and calm voice.
Mike stared at the manager. Half of him wanted to punch him, while the other half wanted to run away from him. What was it with this guy?
The older man went back to his standard don't-give-a-shit-about-your-problems attitude in an astonishing speed. "But, if you want to quit I'm not going to cry for that loss. It's not up to me to decide what you do with your money…"
Mike narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Lawrence smirked. "You did read the contract you signed, right?"
The guard felt his heart tightened. No, he hadn't. In the excitement to get a job, he hadn't even paid attention to what exactly he was signing…
Lawrence correctly interpreted his expression. "My, my. You kids are always so brash and hasty, you didn't even read it…"
"Not a kid."
The manager reached for one of the drawers and took out a contract. Mike recognized his signature at the end, and was now mentally kicking himself for not having taken the time to read the contract carefully before writing his name on it. How many times had his father warned him about that?
"If you could be so kind as to read the… fourteenth paragraph." Lawrence handed Mike the contract, the smirk still on his face. "Aloud," he added.
Mike glared at the manager before taking the contract roughly from his hands. He looked for the fourteenth paragraph. The letters were small, but not small enough to be unreadable.
"'By signing this document, I agree to the terms of sigil, which invoke that I do not share with anyone outside the company whatever takes place within the premises during my shift, unless explicit consent is given by the manager. I also agree to complete at least a week of work, without interruptions. Not abiding by any of these terms will result on a fine of'…"
The guard's eyes widened in shock, as he felt a wave of anger rush through him. "…'twelve thousand dollars'?!"
"I tried to write everything with simple vocabulary, so that you couldn't complain about not understand the terms…" Lawrence commented, looking casually at his watch. "So, if you want to quit before completing a week, I suggest you…"
"I'm not paying shit!" Mike snapped, interrupting Lawrence. "You can't force people to stay here under the threat of having to pay this ridiculous amount of money!"
"According to that paper, I can. You signed it," Lawrence retorted. "It's not my fault you didn't take the time to read it."
Mike looked at Lawrence angrily, clenching his fist so that he wouldn't end up punching him. He had no choice. It was his mistake, and now he had to pay for it. He didn't have that kind of money, so he had no choice but to complete his week…
"Fine," the guard said finally. "Fine. I'm not quitting. I'll end my week, but once that's over, I'm out of here."
"Right, right." Lawrence took the contract back and put it back on the drawer. "Oh, and I trust you did not share with anyone what happens during you shift? Because if you did, you'll be paying anyway."
Shit. He had told Claire and Ray… he had told them that the animatronics moved, and about the messages… He would have to lie and say that they were in fact a prank and that he was not in danger…
"I know…"
Lawrence nodded. "Good. Now, if that is all, I have more to do than listen to your whining. And you better get that shirt fixed, because I'm not giving you a new one."
Mike turned his back on Lawrence, his body shaking from the immense self-control he was exerting on himself.
"Do not punch him… do not punch him… do not punch him…"
Once he got out of the pizzeria, he took in a deep breath. He would have to return that night, regardless of the condition of his shoulder. He really was in a tight spot. Of course it could only happen to him…
He picked up his phone and tried calling Phil again. Maybe he could help…
Again, no response.
"Damn," Mike hissed under his breath. Maybe he had a new job and was working? For someone he had once nicknamed "Phone Guy" he sure didn't pay attention to it…
