Chapter Nine: Finally Justice
Gerald frowned underneath Goldie's costume. He hadn't seen his reprogrammed animatronics in a while, and hadn't heard the night guard scream for even longer. The resident robots also seemed to be sensing that something was wrong, walking around with confused and concerned looks on their faces. But Gerald didn't care nearly enough about them to inquire what was wrong. That was more of a Phil thing.
Suddenly, he heard rapid footsteps tear past the door, and peeking out Gerald saw the night guard sprinting as fast as he could, the animatronics he reprogrammed right on his tail. He chuckled.
Well, that little problem seems to be taken care of, he thought, One less witness to worry about.
Clanking sounded from the vent, and the real Goldie returned.
"Well, that guy's out of luck," he said, feeling his way back into the room.
"Seems that way," Gerald replied, brushing nonexistent dust off of his suit. Goldie frowned, hearing the suit fabric come together.
"You're still wearing my suit, aren't you?" Goldie asked in an accusatory tone.
"Correct," Gerald confirmed, "You're not using it."
"Well now I don't want to," Goldie immediately fired back, "After you stink it up with your human smell."
Gerald scoffed.
"Please, you can't smell," Gerald countered.
"And I can't see either, so I'll add it to the list," Goldie replied, and crawled back up onto the table he laid on, "So. What'll you do now?" Gerald paused to think about the question.
"Probably remind Marion that helping people I want dead isn't part of the deal," Gerald said darkly, grabbing a metal bar and his cattle prod.
"Harsh," Goldie said flatly, and before setting himself into standby added, "Wake me up if you lose."
Gerald chuckled to himself and put the head of his suit on, before stepping out into the restaurant. Might as well watch the guard's last moments, it could prove entertaining.
Mike ran to the door that Marion led him to, still carrying the fire extinguisher, while Freddy and the others provided cover from the Toys. The guard pounded on the door. Several seconds later the door flew open and a hand pulled him inside, shutting it behind him.
"Hey!" Chica protested, pounding on the door, "What about us?"
"Sorry, no room," Marion explained. Chica growled in frustration but didn't protest further. Freddy had remained silent after coming back, and something about the air around him seemed to suggest a coming storm. Foxy noticed.
"Ye alrigh', mate?" Foxy asked the bear. Freddy turned and nodded.
"Fine," he answered gruffly, then turning to the direction of Parts and Service, "Just… fine…"
Mike had been grabbed and pulled down a small flight of stairs. He was met with a man, Phil, who was probably in his late 40s, and dressed in a security guard outfit much like Mike's, but of an older design. His blonde hair was cut to a clean, short length, but clearly looked like he had done it himself, and a goatee that ringed around his mouth. Phil had a wiry frame, a little bit skinny due to having to survive on whatever Gerald decided he needed, and his eyes seemed to have lost the fire in them. Phil gave him a sad smile.
"I, uh, kind of wish we, um, met under better circumstances," he said, putting his hands in his pockets. Mike nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. So… what do we do now?" Mike asked.
"Now? Now, um, you wait here until six when the Toys go to charge, uh, then you and the others go back to the, uh, other restaurant," Phil said, and walked over to a desk sitting on the corner of the room.
On it sat a large monitor, a microphone, a speaker, and a series of control sticks. The control center for the puppet. Mike followed Phil as he sat down in a chair, staring at the screen, which showed Freddy and the others as they looked about the room outside the door to the basement.
"So that's how you control Marion, huh?" Mike asked, leaning on the back of the chair.
"Yeah. Microphone for the, uh, voice, screen for the, er, eyes, simple stuff," Phil explained, then pressed a button on the microphone.
"Mike's all set down here. Now we just need to wait it out," Phil said, the statement having a slight echo as it played out of Marion.
"What about that imposter? We can't let him get away!" Chica protested. Foxy nodded.
"Aye, tha scallywag needs ta' be keelhauled!" Foxy agreed. Phil sighed to himself and made Marion shake his head.
"He's, gotten away with it for years, just… let it be," Phil said, "Just leave and let things go back to normal."
"Normal? You look at me and tell me I'm normal," Chica prodded, swinging the long wires hanging from her arms dramatically, "Or look at Bonnie. Can she go back to normal?"
"Don't bring me into this, Chica," Bonnie said, "We can just get Nathan's help. Can't we just go home?" Chica immediately rounded onto Bonnie.
"You don't want that guy to pay for what he's done?" Chica asked, "For what he did to us?"
"I just don't want anyone else to get hurt, or to be reprogrammed again," Bonnie explained, "I want that imposter to get in trouble as much as you do, but I want to go home and get fixed more."
"Thar mus' be somethin' we can do," Foxy said, pacing back and forth before looking at Freddy, "Wha' abou' ye, mate? Wha' say ye?"
Freddy looked up, frowning as he tried to think of a plan. He suddenly turned to Marion.
"Do you have a telephone?" Freddy asked. In the basement, Phil grinned, making Marion slowly nod.
"Freddy, you're talking to 'Phone Guy'," he said, and made Marion start leading the way.
Marion led Freddy into the Security Office, pointing with a cloth-like arm at the telephone sitting on the desk.
"That phone still works, since the company wanted a connected system in case something went wrong, sort of like a long-distance radio, you didn't need to dial a number. That's partly how I recorded messages back in the day," he said, "I would just use a different phone in the building. They were all taken out though, except for this one since the phone company wanted it there."
"Thank you," Freddy said, and turned to Foxy, "I need your hook to help dial."
"Sure, mate," Foxy agreed, stepping forward, "Wha'ever ye need."
"You remember Officer Reuben, correct?" Freddy asked. Foxy grinned and nodded, moving the point of his hook to dial.
Virginia Thomas, nicknamed "Ginny", hated her job with a burning passion. She had the fortunate position of working the night shift for police dispatch. Night time was when the freaks and weirdos called 911 for whatever bizarre reason, and she had to deal with it. The most recent incident was the whole debacle at Freddy's, and the officers that responded had refused to talk about it, while Dr. Terrace had convinced both herself and the rest of the station that perhaps they had all been working too hard.
Ginny still wanted to know, however, but put it in the back of her mind as the phone predictably rang. Someone usually called at least four times during each block of her shift.
"911 what's your emergency," Ginny said for the thousandth time.
"I need to speak to Officer Reuben, it's urgent," the voice on the other end said. It was tinny, hard to make out, and disturbingly familiar.
"Sir, you can't use 911 for personal matters," Ginny explained in an exasperated voice, shoving off the déjà vu.
"Arr, wha' can we use this fer?" a faint, heavily accented voice asked.
"Foxy, hush," the main voice scolded, "I don't know of any other way to reach him, but we need his help."
"Alright, who is this?" Ginny asked.
"Freddy Fazbear, miss," the voice replied with no hesitation, "Officer Reuben should remember us, as should an Officers Wilkes and… Galloway?"
Ginny paused. Reuben, Wilkes, and Galloway were the ones involved in the Freddy's debacle. Was this one of the… things? He certainly didn't seem like the monsters Wilkes swore up and down they were when he was found knocked out outside the Central Mall.
"Putting you through now," Ginny said.
"Thank you," Freddy replied, and the call was forwarded to Reuben's station.
Reuben's police issued cell phone rang as he sat in his patrol car, sitting on the side of the road looking for anything suspicious. He answered.
"Reuben," he said, shifting in his seat.
"Reub? It's Polk… You're, you're gonna want to take this call," Sergeant Polk said, and a click sounded as lines were transferred.
"Hello? This is Officer Reuben," Reuben greeted the caller, "What do you want?"
"Officer? I'm not sure you remember me, but this is Freddy Fazbear," a tinny, distorted voice said. Reuben stiffened, before his stubble-lined jaw fell into a scowl.
"Har-dee-freakin'-har, asshole. Look, I told everyone I wasn't sure what I saw that night, so knock it off," Reuben replied angrily.
"Sir, please, I promise this is not a joke. Listen, we're all here," Freddy said.
"Ahoy ye lubber," a new voice said.
"Hello again, Officer," said yet another, this one feminine, "Are you in Downtown?"
"Hey," another feminine voice said simply.
Reuben stared out of his windshield blankly, recognizing the voices.
"All right, that's pretty damn good, I'll give you that," he said, voice wavering slightly.
"Jeez, why are you cops so hard to convince?" the second feminine voice said in a manner that sounded incredibly similar to the yellow duck thing he had picked up.
"Because cops are screwed with all the time!" Reuben replied harshly, and hung up, shoving the phone back into its pouch on his belt roughly.
I'm never going to put that night past me, he thought glumly, but a part of him felt differently. He pulled the phone out again, going to the "Recent Calls" section and seeing the number that had called him. He wrote it down and dialed the station.
"Reuben, badge twelve-forty-seven, can you run a trace for the following number?" he asked.
"He hung up. Great," Chica said. Marion hung over her shoulder, having heard all that had occurred.
"How do you know a police officer?" he asked.
"It's kind of a long story," Bonnie replied, a spark arcing from her destroyed bottom jaw. Freddy imitated a sigh.
"That was my only plan, hoping that we could get Gerald arrested," Freddy said.
"There would certainly be enough evidence, and I'd be willing to confess," Marion said.
In the basement, Mike looked at Phil.
"Really? But, you're an accomplice, you could go to jail too!" Mike pointed out, "I mean, yeah, you're not a bad guy, but still. It was murder." Phil looked at him.
"It, um, isn't going to be an issue," Phil replied, "It would, uh, be a release, actually, for the truth to come out. They already let Jeremy go years ago, after the reopened the case."
Mike nodded, and began looking around the room. Something… wasn't quite right. The basement was as clean as could be reasonably done, but there were a few questions that were raised. Phil had said Gerald brought him supplies, and if he was here, where were they? There wasn't a separate storage section, and no sign of a source of food or water.
Then, another disgusting thought: no waste facilities. If Phil had been living here for years, where did all his trash and body waste go? The man didn't even smell, how did he take a shower?
"Phil, do you leave here at all?" Mike asked. Phil shook his head, still watching Marion's screen.
"No, no, I, uh, haven't left in quite a while," he said in a finite tone indicating he didn't want the matter to be discussed further.
"So how do you… you know?" Mike asked.
"How do I what?" Phil asked, confused.
"Uh, actually never mind, I'm not sure I'd like the answer," Mike hastily replied. Phil shrugged.
"Alright, suit yourself," he said, and continued to watch Marion's screen.
On the screen, Marion shifted through the halls, running along his track as Phil guided it. He passed by a concerned Mangle and BB.
"Byzrrt?" Mangle asked. Phil keyed the microphone.
"What was that BB?" he asked.
"She asking if you're okay," BB said, "Now that she mentions it, you've been acting weird lately. And who's the yellow guy?"
Phil lowered Marion down to BB's level.
"Listen to me BB, do not go near him. He's a bad man, okay?" BB's eyes widened and his usual smile dropped in surprise.
"Ok," he said simply, "Mangle? Can we go somewhere else?"
"Zzyrrt," Mangle said, nodding, and reaching her still suited hand down to drag BB to the Security Office. Phil turned to Mike.
"Mangle's pretty, uh, motherly to BB. Kind of part of her programming, although, um, apparently human kids scare her since they, uh, tore her apart basically every day," Phil explained.
"That's… nice…" Mike said, not entirely sure what prompted an explanation, "What time is it?" Phil checked his watch.
"About 4:30. Only an hour and a half left," Phil replied.
A sudden banging sounded on the basement door.
"Phil? We need to have a little chat," Gerald's voice said through the metal.
I knew it, I fucking knew it, Officer Reuben thought to himself. The call had come from the abandoned Freddy Fazbear's, where a group of kids were murdered, much like in the location that was still open. That knowledge broke both good and bad news.
The good news: the call was legitimate. The bad news: the call was legitimate. Reuben sighed and scratched at the stubble on his right cheek, fingernails making a scritch scritch as it passed over it. He really didn't want to pay another visit to where those… things were, and certainly didn't want to see them again. But another part of him, the part that made him become a police officer, felt the need to help them. It was obvious that they were in a hell of a jam if they called for a cop specifically. His nails kept moving over the same patch of stubble, the skin quickly growing red and raw as Reuben weighed the decision more and more.
Screw it, to protect and serve, damn it, Reuben thought, and picked up his police phone, dialing the station. After one ring the receptionist picked up.
"Reuben, badge twelve forty-seven," Reuben introduced himself.
"How can I help you, Officer Reuben?" the receptionist, Kelly, asked.
Reuben shifted in the seat of his patrol car.
"Connect me to Galloway, please, I need his help," Reuben replied. Kelly faltered.
"Why didn't you just radio for assistance?" she asked.
"This is relating to… that night, and I'd like to keep it under the radar," Reuben answered with a clipped tone.
"I understand, putting you through now," Kelly replied, and the phone began ringing. After several rings, Galloway answered.
"This is Galloway," he said.
"Gall, it's Reuben," Reuben said, "I need your help."
"Of course. What's up?" Galloway asked.
"Remember those freaks?" Reuben asked.
Galloway's sigh could be heard through the call.
"How could I not? I still get nightmares. I'm still not entirely convinced that was real," Galloway replied, before suddenly becoming scared, "Please tell me you haven't arrested them again."
"Not… exactly," Reuben began, "They actually called me. They need my help."
A pause settled onto the conversation.
"Nuh-uh, Reub, no way," Galloway said, fully understanding the reason for the call, "I am not going anywhere near those things ever again."
"I think…" Reuben sighed, and spoke quieter into the phone as if to not be heard, "I think it's serious. Why would they call us after we arrested them and chased them?"
"I don't want to find out!" Galloway argued, "They attacked us, remember? Those things are monsters!"
"Now you're starting to sound like Wilkes."
"Wilkes might have been right all along. I didn't join the force for adventure like you did, Reub, I can't handle this stuff," Galloway pleaded, "I've never embraced traffic duty more readily. I still see those eyes in the shadows."
Reuben groaned, smacking his head against the headrest of his seat.
"Tom, listen to me," Reuben said, addressing the officer by his first name, "I'm going to help them, and if it's anything like the last time, I need all the help I can get. I'm asking you as a friend and an officer."
A long pause grew after Reuben's statement. Galloway sighed once more.
"Alright, alright. Send me the address," Galloway finally agreed.
"Come now, Phil, don't be a child!" Gerald called, pounding once more on the door, "You know I hate the silent treatment."
Behind the man currently dressed in Goldie's suit, Chica and Foxy looked on, glaring.
"Bilge suckin' mongrel," Foxy growled, "Why can' we jus' keelhaul 'im now?" Chica growled as well.
"Because Freddy wants us to wait for Officer Reuben," she explained, "He wants to get away from that whole mess with the magazine. I guess I kinda agree, it is wrong." Foxy shook his head.
"Bu' Mike 'n tha' Phil lad be in trouble," Foxy pointed out, trying to protect his crew, "An' we don' even know if he be comin'".
"That door'll keep him out, now shut up and keep watch," Chica said.
Gerald banged on the door several more times, then turned around, noticing Foxy and Chica. He pointed to Foxy.
"You," he said, "Come over here."
Foxy didn't move, glaring daggers (or rather, cutlasses) at the costumed man. Behind the mask, Gerald frowned.
"Looks like someone isn't listening to the program," lifting up the cattle prod, "I suppose we'll have to update it."
Gerald thumbed the power switch on the prod's base, the tip arcing with hundreds of volts of raw electricity. A series of deep clicks sounded from the end at a machine gun pace, and Foxy stared at the tip of it wide-eyed. Gerald swung it around casually, turning off the current, and Foxy followed its path warily.
"I've heard about your past exploits, you know," Gerald said, "Especially the Bite, and that lovely article in the magazine. It seems you've both been even worse than me. I'm actually a little jealous."
Another swish with the cattle prod, and Gerald took a few steps towards Foxy.
"I think over the years your body count has surpassed mine," he told the fox, "Admit it, it just feels good doesn't it? To just… stop a problem."
"Hey, back off creep!" Chica warned.
"Oh like you're much better?" Gerald countered, "You're no less guilty, even if you didn't bite that poor man. How many security guards have you stuffed?"
Chica didn't reply, glaring as well. Behind the mask Gerald smirked.
"That's what I thought. Don't try to take the moral high ground here, we're all killers," Gerald said, and resumed pounding on the door, pausing after several strikes. "I suppose that means your little night guard friend is still alive. Oh well, I'm sure the Toys will be happy to solve that dilemma."
Foxy growled and began advancing towards Gerald, only to be blocked by Chica.
"Cool it," Chica said, "Mike'll be fine, he's bluffing. Just follow Freddy's plan. The less we do, the better."
Why won't the others do something? Mike wondered as he paced in Phil's basement hideout. The older guard watched him, drumming his fingers on his desk awkwardly.
"So, uh…" he began, "How long have you been working for Freddy's?" Mike looked up, then kept walking.
"About a month," he replied.
"Ah," Phil said, "And you, uh, managed to solve the, um, suit stuffing problem?"
"…Yeah, I guess you could say that."
Phil leaned back in the chair.
"Well, at any rate, it's good to see them sort of back to normal," he said, "Well, there are some discrepancies, but it's been a long time."
The pounding sounded once again on the metal door.
"Phil? I know you've got that guard in there," Gerald called through the barrier, "We had a deal, Phil! No witnesses, ever!" Mike looked nervously at the door. Phil noticed.
"Don't mind him," he said, "He's, er, got separation issues. That door'll keep him out, I'm sure."
I'm not getting through that door, and those robots are staring holes in the back of my head, Gerald thought, and suddenly thought of an idea. But for it to work, he'd need one of the Toys, one that would be so naïve it would do whatever it asked if it thought it was helping. A smile spread across his lips, hidden behind Goldie's visage.
"Bonnie? Bonnie, buddy, where are you?" Gerald called out, walking away from the basement door. He continued to look for the blue rabbit in the same manner until he finally found him in the Kitchen, wandering around and carrying his guitar. A large grin came over Toy Bonnie's face when Gerald walked in.
"Hi Goldie!" he greeted, "What's up? I haven't seen you in forever!" Gerald nodded, waving his hand dismissively.
"Yes, yes, right," he said, "Listen, we have a problem." Toy Bonnie's eyes widened.
"Problem?" the rabbit asked, incredibly concerned, "What kind of problem?" Gerald smiled behind the Goldie mask, then filled his own voice with as much alarm as he could.
"A kid's stuck in the basement!" Gerald lied, "Follow me, quick!" He dashed as fast as the suit would allow back into the Dining Area, heading for the basement access near Parts & Service. A few short seconds later and he could hear Toy Bonnie's heavy footfalls following.
"The basement?" Toy Bonnie asked, "But Marion said that nobody is supposed to go in the basement!"
"That's why I need your help!" Gerald yelled over his shoulder, panting with the effort of running in the bulky suit.
The two reached the basement door. Foxy and Chica had gone to the Security Office to see if they still had to hurry up and wait, so they were alone. Gerald rested his hands on his knees, gasping for breath. Toy Bonnie stared at the door, confused.
"The door… is stuck…" Gerald explained between breaths, "I can't… open it… can you try?"
Toy Bonnie nodded and leaned his guitar against the wall near the door, and grasped the doorknob. He turned it, and pulled and pushed the door roughly, slamming it around in its frame.
"Boy, it's really stuck!" he observed, jiggling the doorknob, "I don't think I can open it without breaking it."
"Break it!" Gerald ordered, "That kid's stuck in there, we can fix it afterwards!"Bonnie looked at the door, concerned.
"I don't know, I don't really like to break things," Toy Bonnie explained, "I got in trouble when I-,"
"God damn it Bonnie!" Gerald roared, exasperated, "Do you want that kid to get hurt? Break down that door!"
Toy Bonnie jolted in surprise at the outburst and threw himself against the door as hard as he could, denting the metal surface and warping the lock, but it still held. Toy Bonnie shook himself, static having filled his vision from the force of the impact, leaving him dazed.
"Again!" Gerald ordered, hysterical. Toy Bonnie jumped again and slammed into the door a second time. Metal screeched as it scraped against other metal, and the lock gave way, the door swinging open.
Toy Bonnie's momentum carried him forward, and he fell down the staircase with a cacophony of crashes and bangs, landing on his back and unable to get up by himself. Gerald followed the rabbit, stepping over him to greet Phil and Mike.
"Darn it!" Toy Bonnie cursed, struggling to right himself, "Can I have a little help? Please?"
"Quiet," Gerald hushed, giving the robot a kick. Toy Bonnie stopped his flailing. Gerald looked up at Phil and Mike, staring through the eye slots in Goldie's head.
"We need to talk," he said, holding up his cattle prod. Mike instinctively grabbed the dented fire extinguisher, hefting it into a ready postition. Gerald's unseen face twisted into an angry frown.
"I was hoping for an adult conversation," Gerald said, and activated the prod.
Mangle heard the distant crash of Toy Bonnie's descent down the basement stairs.
"Tyyzrrt?" she asked herself, and crawled off to investigate.
She had returned to Kid's Cove, collapsing into a heap in her corner, having nothing to do. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy were gathered in the Security Office, discussing some sort of plan, while BB entertained himself in the Game Area making balloons for everyone. Toy Freddy and Toy Chica, having been told by Marion to not interfere with anything the newer robots were doing, were on the Show Stage, trying to stay out of the way. And if Mangle's memory was correct, Toy Bonnie had gone into the Kitchen, presumably to stay out of the way as well.
Mangle's journey took her past the entrance, where she was distracted by headlights sweeping across as two black and white cars pulled into the lot, parking next to a large truck. She crawled closer to the window, peering out curiously.
Two men in dark blue uniforms with badges on their chests got out of their respective vehicles, pulling flashlights off of their belts and aiming them at the entrance. The criminal database recognized the two men as police officers, and this new development made Mangle wonder why they were here.
The taller of the two officers walked towards the entrance, noticing the window Toy Bonnie had cracked trying to get at the predator from the other night. He pushed and pulled at the door, rattling it against its lock, and then turned to his companion.
"Locked," he said, "You think our skeleton keys will work?"
The other man shrugged. "I guess. Here," he said, and handed a small object to the other.
The first officer stuck it into the door, fiddling it around before twisting it. A click sounded from the door, and Mangle scrabbled away as it swung open. The two men stepped inside, shining their lights throughout the space.
"Of course it's dark," the first officer said bitterly.
"What do you expect, Reub? This place hasn't been open for years," the second replied.
The wariness and caution the officers showed made Mangle nervous. What were they afraid of? Was it something scary? Was it after the others too? She pulled herself closer to the ceiling, single eye darting about, looking for whatever it was the policeman were looking for. Suddenly a flashlight beam shone into her face, and she screeched in surprise.
"Zzzyt!" she exclaimed, and lost her grip, falling to the floor.
"Aaah!" the second officer screamed, keeping his flashlight aimed at Mangle, "What the hell is that?"
"It looks like a robot!" the other officer explained, keeping his light trained on the fox as well.
Mangle, meanwhile, searched around quickly for what spooked the officers, and upon finding nothing realized it was herself. Mentally sighing in relief, she crawled slowly towards the two men.
"Tyzzrrt byzzrk yrxx," she said. Don't be scared!
The officers stared, and the lead one drew his gun.
"Get back! What'd you do with the others?" he demanded. Mangle froze, tilting her head to the side.
"XXyrt?" she asked. What? "They'rezzzxxyert" They're this way. Mangle gestured for them to follow, climbing up back onto the ceiling and heading towards the Security Office. After a few moments, she looked back and saw that the two hadn't moved. She made a "follow me" gesture once more.
"I think it wants us to follow it," the second officer said. Mangle nodded.
"Looks like you're right. Stay alert," the first officer replied, then turned to Mangle, "Lead the way."
Mangle nodded once more and traveled towards the office, the policemen following cautiously behind.
Rebuen followed the… fox, robot, thing as it crawled across the ceiling like something out of a horror movie. Every so often it would look behind itself, looking to make sure they were following with a single glowing eye. It was quite unnerving.
The journey continued down a long hallway, which was partially lit, leading towards a smallish room where four very recognizable figures could be seen. The yellow chicken, purple bunny, and red fox had been reduced to an astounding degree of disrepair, the rabbit missing a face and the chicken missing its arms. Both Reuben and Galloway stopped, the abomination on the ceiling spouting something in its staticy gibberish. The bear looked up, and almost seemed to sigh with relief, and smiled warmly.
"Officer Reuben!" he greeted, "Thank goodness!"
The bear began walking towards Reuben, but he held up a hand, keeping the other on his gun.
"Hang on right there," he said, "What's going on here, huh? Why'd you call me in particular?"
"You were the only one that'd believe us," the bear, Freddy, explained, "We need your help catching a serial killer."
Galloway gasped.
"A what?" he asked. At this point the red fox spoke up.
"Tha rotten, no-good, bilge suckin' mongrel that… that…" the fox couldn't complete the sentence. The yellow chicken stepped in.
"Basically what happened at our restaurant, but here first. With those kids," she explained glumly.
"Righ'," the fox agreed.
"Oh my God… The Kid Killer," Galloway said, "But I thought he got caught!" Freddy shook his head.
"No. He's been hiding out here ever since. We need you to catch him," Freddy explained. Reuben shook himself out of his shock.
"Alright, but I want answers after this, got it?" he demanded, then drew his gun, "Where is this guy?" Galloway spoke up.
"Wait a second, we don't have a warrant, we don't have any evidence, and we're getting this from… those things!" he protested, "The same things that broke out of police custody and assaulted us, and you just want to trust them?"
"We're animatronics, not 'things'," Freddy said, "And we have a friend that said he wanted to… oh what word did he use… 'testify'? Does that help? We'd do this ourselves, but we've had… problems with violence in the past, and we're trying to stay away from it."
"And you chose having a serial killer on the loose to do that?" Galloway asked incredulously, "Reub, do you believe any of this?"
"Quite a bit, actually," Reuben said, "And that's good enough for me. Let's go, Gall."
"Bu-but, Reub, I-,"
"Time to be a cop, Gall. We're bringing this monster down."
"But you haven't even seen the guy!" Galloway exclaimed.
"Galloway, shut the hell up," Reuben replied, "Why would these guys lie? Now which way did he go?"
The sound of Mike shouting sounded throughout the halls.
"Mike!" Bonnie, Foxy, and Chica exclaimed at the same time. Reuben sprinted out of the office.
"This way!" he said, "Come on!"
Mike fell to the floor, dodging a jab made by Gerald with the cattle prod. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from where it had slipped out of his hands and pulled the pin, charging the propellant, and depressed the trigger. As it was an older model extinguisher, freezing carbon dioxide erupted from the nozzle, enveloping Gerald.
Gerald threw his arms up in front of him to stave off the cold, and Mike used the distraction to charge forward, swinging the extinguisher to strike the killer across the head. Goldie's suit's head swiveled 90 degrees, taking the brunt of the impact and leaving Gerald momentarily stunned. He reached up and turned it back into place.
"You little nuisance!" Gerald shouted. Behind him, Toy Bonnie struggled to right himself, but stayed quiet after being hushed by Gerald.
Phil had backed away, watching the fight sadly. Mike looked at him.
"Are you gonna help?" he asked.
"Don't you dare, Phil," Gerald threatened, pointing the prod, "You know what I can do." He charged at Mike again, who was able to avoid the attack and knock Gerald to the floor due to the bulky suit. He was back up in an instant, and dashed at the night guard again. Mike swung with the extinguisher again, having it glance off of Gerald's shoulder and be knocked from his hands.
"I need help!" Mike shouted, as loud as possible.
"Nobody's coming, Mike!" Gerald said, "It's just you, me, and a bunch of robots that want to kill you." He lunged at Mike with the prod again, the guard narrowly avoiding the sparking end with a shout. In desperation, Mike tackled Gerald to the floor, wrestling over the prod. The suit the killer wore was heavy, and by throwing its weight around Gerald managed to overpower Mike, ending up on top of him.
"Get off me!" Mike screamed, planting a hard kick under Gerald and throwing him off. They both quickly got to their feet, Mike having his hands raised in front of him. Slowly, they clenched into fists, and the guard assumed a sort of fighting stance.
"Alright then," Gerald said, "I hope you're not expecting me to join you in a fistfight."
"Kinda hoping…" Mike admitted, but kept his guard up.
"Hopes were ignored," Gerald replied, and again the end of the cattle prod glowed with electricity.
Suddenly, Phil let out a savage yell and charged Gerald, jumping onto him and dragging him to the floor, pinning the arm holding the prod down. Gerald caught him with a punch across the face, and Phil landed on top of the prod. Gerald activated, and Phil screamed as he was electrocuted, passing out from the pain.
Gerald yanked his arm out from under Phil's limp body and rose to his feet.
"Traitor," he spat, and kicked him, before turning to Mike, who let out an audible gulp, "Now then…"
"Freeze, hands up, now!" a voice screamed from the steps. Two police officers stormed down the stairs, leaping over the still struggling Toy Bonnie, guns trained on Gerald and Mike. Mike immediately thrust his hands skyward, while Gerald didn't move. The taller officer, seemingly in charge, aimed at the suited man.
"Drop you weapon!" he ordered, "Now!" Gerald tossed the cattle prod to the side. "Hands on your head! Spread your shit!" Gerald complied, and the officer quickly stepped behind him and handcuffed him. The other officer did the same with Mike.
"There better be a person under here," the first officer growled, and yanked off Gerald's mask.
"Oh thank god," the other officer said upon seeing Gerald's completely human face.
Freddy walked down the steps afterward.
"Michael! Thank goodness!" he said, hugging the guard, "We thought he got you!"
Mike nodded, looking at the two police officers as his own handcuffs were unlocked.
"Who are you guys?" he asked. The officer that had restrained him stuck his hand out.
"Officer Galloway," he said, as Mike grabbed the offered hand to shake, "This is the weirdest thing I have ever done."
"Reuben," the other officer greeted, checking Gerald in the head when he started struggling, "Knock of your shit!" he ordered, and forced him to his knees. He then calmly looked back at Mike.
"Gonna go out on a limb and say it's this creepy bastard," Reuben said, "These guys called me. Last time I arrested them, thought they were gonna kill me. Glad that changed."
"Yes, well… If it helps we didn't want to hurt anyone then either," Freddy said awkwardly. Clanking steps signaled Foxy arriving onto the scene, staring confused at Toy Bonnie as he continued to rock back and forth on the ground. He raised his eye patch.
"Wha's wit' ye, mate?" Foxy asked, before looking back, "Mike, lad, yer okay! Bonnie an' Chica be keepin' tha others from seein' ye. I see ye got tha' bilge rat." Reuben nodded.
"Yeah," Reuben replied, glaring at Gerald. Phil groaned from his spot on the floor. Galloway ran over, followed by Mike.
"Whoa, you okay buddy?" Galloway asked, "What happened? Who's this?"
"Phil," Mike explained, "He was Gerald's accomplice, and he'll testify. Got zapped by this guy's cattle prod."
"We had an agreement, Phil!" Gerald yelled
"Oh, that reminds me," Reuben said, and turned Gerald to face him, "You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you? Dirt bag?"
"Yes," Gerald spat, voice full of venom.
"Good, come with me," Reuben ordered, and dragged Gerald towards the stairs. Toy Bonnie had moved out of the way, but caught a glimpse of Gerald's face, eyes turning black.
"Hey! Get away from the children!" he ordered, struggling to reach and grab him. Reuben backed him away carefully.
"What's with him?" he asked, hand going down for his gun.
"They have some sort of anti-predator thing. Makes them psycho," Mike explained, and grabbed Goldie's suit head, "Put this on him." Reuben shoved it onto Gerald with little fanfare, and Toy Bonnie's eyes returned to normal.
"Oh, hello officer!" he greeted cheerfully, "Is everything okay?"
"Uh, yes," Reuben replied, and pushed Gerald forward, "Move it."
The two of them ascended the steps, Galloway following close behind, edging past Chica and Bonnie, who were talking to Mangle and Toy Freddy, who wanted to know what was going on. Mike could hear Gerald suddenly start shouting.
"I'm not done, you hear me!?" he threatened, "You'll pay for this Phil! And you too Mike!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Reuben roared, "Don't be so cliché."
Galloway snickered at Reuben's remark as they moved quickly through the darkened restaurant.
"You might have gotten away for it if it weren't for those meddling kids," he said. Gerald huffed. The sound of squeaking wheels suddenly sounded, and Marion rolled in front of them.
"Well, well, well," he said, staring at the group with a frozen grin, "I applaud you officers. This monster needs to go away for a long, long time."
"Uh… yeah…" Reuben said, "Thanks… whatever you are…"
"This place just gets weirder," Galloway muttered. Marion nodded.
"Quite," he agreed, and lowered himself to hang directly in front of Gerald, staring through the eye holes of Goldie's head, "Farewell, Gerald," and turned to the officers, "Phil will give you anything you need. He's a good man, and was forced into an unpleasant situation. That was the hardest part, watching, as he always was my favorite controller. Good day."
Without anything more, the puppet wheeled himself away towards the Prize Corner, leaving Reuben and Galloway staring after him.
"We never speak of this night, agreed?" Reuben asked.
"Oh yeah. I'd hate for Dr. Terrace to profile us. Again," Galloway agreed, and the officers dragged Gerald outside, with the sun just starting to peek over the horizon.
"Well, this night sucked," Chica said dryly. She and the others were holed up in Phil's basement, waiting until six. Toy Freddy stuck his head through the open door, not seeing Mike or Phil.
"Are you all still doing okay?" he asked, "Scary stuff when we get a predator."
"We're fine," Freddy replied, "How's Toy Bonnie? He fell pretty hard."
"A few dents and scratches, but he says he's fine. And that he's sorry for being so clumsy," Toy Freddy said, "Well, if you or your friends need anything, give a shout."
"Will do," Freddy replied, and Toy Freddy walked away.
An hour later, the clock turned six, albeit without a chime, and Chica watched the animatronics return to their dormant places and power off automatically.
"We're clear. Let's get my arms and stuff," she said, "And Bonnie's face."
"Right," Mike said, and walked into Parts & Service. Bits of metal, Chica's arms, and the face assembly of Bonnie's suit were found on the floor. The activity caught the attention of Goldie, who lay on a maintenance cart.
"Oh, hello," he greeted in a flat voice, "Did that creep Gerald get taken care of?"
"Yeah, he was arrested," Chica explained, watching Mike and Phil gather every piece they could find.
"Fantastic," Goldie replied, "Never liked that guy." Mike picked up one last screw and dropped it into a bucket he had found.
"I think that's it," Mike said, "Let's get out of here." Phil stopped him.
"What about them?" he asked, pointing to Goldie, "I can't just leave them here."
"Well, we can't take them with us!" Mike said, "The face thing, they're dangerous. We'll figure something out, but I need to take my guys home."
"Alright," Phil said, "Okay."
Mike led the group out and opened the cargo door of the delivery truck, and the animatronics climbed in, Chica needing help due to not having arms to aid her. Mike and Phil climbed into the cab, and Mike sighed, rubbing his face.
"Glad that's over. Good thing therapists are expensive, or I might go crazy," he said, and started the engine, "Arianna's going to kick my ass."
"Oh," Phil said, staring out the windshield, "Drop me off at the police station. I have things to get off my chest."
The reaction back at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was predictable, and Mike braced himself once the animatronics walked inside.
"SCHMIDT!" Arianna roared, storming outside to meet the guard, a phone in her hand. She shoved it into Mike's hands.
"You. Nathan. Call. Now," she ordered, before running back inside to tend to the robots, "What in the holiest of fucks happened to you guys!?"
"It's not Mike's fault!" Mike could hear Bonnie say, before the doors closed. Mike dialed Nathan's number. It rang several times.
"Nathan Grimes, mechanic for hire," Nathan answered tiredly.
"Hey, it's Mike," Mike said into the phone.
"Oh, hey Mike. What's up?"
"Well…"
"Oh no," Nathan said, "Nothing good ever follows a 'well'."
Nathan's pickup screeched to a halt, the mechanic already out of the driver's seat before it stopped moving, toolbox in hand. Mike met him at the entrance, looking at his watch.
"Wow, ten minutes, and you were in downtown," Mike remarked.
"Ran an old lady off the road too, now shut up and tell me what happened exactly," Nathan demanded.
"Well…"
"God damn it," Nathan said, and slammed the doors open, walking out into the Dining Area. His toolbox clattered to the ground as he stared at the state of his friends. He immediately rounded on Mike, pushing the guard against the wall.
"What did you do to them?" he asked, eyes livid.
"Shit!" Mike exclaimed, startled, "It wasn't me! Why do you all think it was me?"
Arianna came to his rescue.
"Lay off, Grimes, they told me everything," she said, "They were reprogrammed or something. There was nothing Mike could do."
Nathan nodded, letting go of Mike and dusting him off.
"Sorry," he said, and gathered up his tools before heading back to his truck, coming back with another box. He looked at the animatronics with a pained expression before looking back at Arianna.
"I'm gonna need a couple days," he explained.
"Take 'em, can't exactly open without a band, know what I mean?" she replied. Nathan nodded, and walked over to Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy. He pointed to Bonnie.
"You first, sweetheart," he said, and opened his toolbox.
A/N: Happy birthday to me! Also… I'M NOT DEAD! STOP SPREADING RUMORS I STARTED.
Anyway, super-extra-long chapter (with an epilogue to follow) to apologize for not updating in a while, hopefully I didn't lose too many readers.
I'm not super proud of Night Six, at least not as proud as I could be. I loved writing the Toys, and Phil, and the twist was something I felt was diabolically genius. But it was a weak night, and I feel like I sort of lost the charm of the other nights. Which is why I'm super excited for Night Seven, which if you weren't aware was the "Custom Night." More details will follow, along with checking in on a certain German Shepherd, dragon, and wolf-dog. I refuse to ignore characters I made (except for Caleb's mom. That bitch), and it'll be nice to write them again.
I'd blame life and all that, but actually I've been writing some non-fanfiction stuff, and kind of distracted myself from what was important. This. So… Thanks for your patience, and until next time, remember: It's only illegal if you get caught.
-DeltaV "I Need Bail Money"