Summer 1978
The rest of the games were taken. Only a cabinet by the stage remained empty, an old fighter game. Mike frowned.
"That one?" his friend asked. "It's two-player. We can both play!"
"...Sure," Mike said, a bit begrudgingly.
He reached into his jeans pocket for some tokens.
"No one really likes this one," he said.
"Why?"
"...Dunno," Mike replied. "They just don't."
Mike stepped up to the right, the side closer to the stage. Both of them put in their tokens and hit their respective start buttons. After a taking a moment to choose characters, Mike found himself engrossed in punching, kicking, and button-mash combinations.
A bit of movement caught his eye after a few rounds. Mike took a brief glimpse toward the stage. The end of the curtain was pulled back, showing a form. He barely turned back to the game in time to block his opponent. Mike glimpsed over his shoulder again, to find the curtain was back in place. He went back to the game, but not quickly enough to win the round. The game went to a cutscene, and Mike glimpsed at the stage once more.
The form was there again, round ears and a top hat.
Freddy, but...different.
One hand held the curtain back. The other made a welcoming gesture. Something about the hands sent a sudden surge of dread coursing through his system. The game now forgotten, Mike grabbed his friend's sleeve.
"Something's wrong," he whispered. "We have to go."
The joystick still moved, and the buttons still clicked.
"Why?"
"We just do," Mike whispered, urgently. "Please. I can't explain it. I just feel like something bad'll happen if we don't go now."
The buttons stopped clicking. The joystick stilled. Mike felt a warm hand in his pulling him away.
"All right. Let's go."
With a hesitant nod, Mike walked with his friend. He shot a final glance behind him. The bear ducked behind the curtain. A small glimmer of life shone in its empty sockets.
Thursday, November 11, 1993
Upon entering the office, Mike quickly searched the desk. He found neither his cigarettes nor his wallet where he left them last night.
Perfect. Just what he needed.
He'd have to ask Waylon about the wallet, and hope whoever turned it in kept or trashed the cigarettes.
Mike sank in his chair, then flipped the monitor on to check in on his robotic charges and ensure they all stood in their proper places for another minute. The phone rang as he shut it off again. As usual, Mike let it go to the answering machine.
"Hello, hello?"
Normally, Phone Guy sounded cheerful and upbeat in his greetings. A worried note in his voice set Mike on edge.
"Hey! Hey, wow, day four," Phone Guy said, a little exasperated. "I knew you could do it. Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow."
"...That's not very encouraging" Mike whispered.
A banging sound in the background caused Mike to jump, then look to the doors on either side of him. Both of them hung open, with nothing but lingering darkness leading into empty halls. A second later, he realized the noise came from the recording.
"It's-it's been a bad night here...for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you-" the man cleared his throat, "-uh, when I did."
More banging, the implications of which slowly dawned on Mike.
"...Oh. Shit!"
"Uh, hey, do me a favor." Mike barely heard Phone Guy over the noise. "Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits i-in the back room? I'm gonna try to hold out until someone...checks. Maybe it won't be so bad."
Mike's blood ran cold at that. Almost against his will, he turned on the monitor and changed the view to Cam 5. The empty animatronic heads stared blankly into the room. The metal endoskeleton sat on the table, undisturbed. Normal sights, yet their usual creepiness intensified.
"Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there," Phone Guy said.
Music played in the background: several music box chimes pleasantly overlapping in a self-sustained orchestra. Mike briefly recalled that tune playing during some of the shows. Where it once brought to mind excited children and cheerful songs, now it filled his heart with a specific dread.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no, no, no!"
Something groaned. Mike's blood ran cold with the recognition of the sound he heard only that morning. He briefly looked behind him, half-expecting Bonnie to be right there and waiting to pounce. Warm relief washed over him when he found nothing. A second later, Mike realized that like the banging, the noise came from the phone call. Which meant despite his efforts, Phone Guy wasn't alone in the room. His neck pulsed. Mike reached up to loosen his tie and soothe it, his breathing stilted with anticipation.
Phone Guy's only reaction to the breathing was a calm, quiet:
"Oh, no."
A loud, jarring racket blocked out every other sound. Mike fell out of his seat with a scream. The phone call cut out a second later, with only static on the other end of the line.
And then silence.
Mike remained on the floor, a hand at his throat, his other arm partially propping him up. His heart threatened to break through his ribcage. All around him, only the sound of the overhead light, the fan, and his own stilted breathing broke through the silence.
Thoughts of yesterday filled his mind, of the tight animatronic grip, of the sliding cold through his clothes, of that deathly smell, of all the tiny little whirs and clicks as Bonnie attempted to drag him to his doom.
He imagined going into that room, how Foxy started to follow, and Freddy laughed.
They would have held him still, he knew. Forced one of those empty suits over his body while the metal pieces dug into his skin. Left him to bleed out until someone found his corpse the next morning.
Mike glanced up to the glowing screen on the desk, at the tiny animal faces sitting on their usual shelves, the endoskeleton calmly sitting on the end of the table. The sight didn't frighten him like most of the others did, but rather...confirmed what he knew.
What nearly happened to him last night happened to Phone Guy. And one of those empty heads with their staring eyes had been his last window to this world.
Slowly, Mike pulled himself back into his seat, his back and legs still chilled from the cold tiles. He changed the camera view. He hands shook when he caught Foxy peeking out from the curtains. A flip to the stage showed all three band member still in position.
And looking right at him.
Mike's heart skipped a beat. Tonight's phone call still lingered on his mind, and most of all, Phone Guy's calm resignation of his fate.
You're next.
The thought lit up his mind as he changed back to Cam 1C, where Foxy stared up at him, his jaw hungrily hanging open, his yellow eyes burning up at the camera. Mike shut the monitor off to save power.
He then sat there in relative silence. His body trembled as the weight of the phone call hung over him. Blood drained from his face and hands, bringing on a cold that he feared would never leave him.
Slowly, each piece of the phone call slid into place. Only Foxy ever banged on the doors that he saw. And that groaning...had Bonnie been in the room already, and Phone Guy hadn't noticed? And what about the music? The Puppet? The specifics didn't matter, Mike realized. That loud jolting racket could have been Freddy or Chica for all he knew. The only thing he knew for certain was that more than one of them came at the same time for Phone Guy.
Which meant they planned their attack.
They herded their prey.
And they closed in on him and cornered him to get their chance.
Mike glanced to the doors on either side of him, his only shields to the monsters lurking outside. Were they planning to do the same to him? Wear him down until it was all over? He turned the monitor back on, to find that for once, Chica left first tonight. Foxy hadn't moved since he last checked, and after confirming Chica in the dining room, Mike shut off the monitor again. A haunting thought came to him as the screen faded to black.
The other guards all left before their third night. None of them would have heard tonight's recording. Who else knew about this? About the fate of the man on the phone?
...Was he the only one?
His breathing stilted. Mike choked back a sob. He hardly knew this man, having only ever heard his voice on the phone. He didn't even know what he looked like. But a part of him still mourned. These past few nights, Phone Guy was one of the few lights to this job. Someone who knew what he was facing, who could empathize, and in a weird way, assured him that he could make it.
Slowly, it dawned on him that whatever happened now...Mike was on his own.
And he had to hope what little advice Phone Guy managed to give him would get him through tonight. Despite his cold fingers and the Pop-Tarts threatening to lurch up, Mike forced himself to turn the monitor back on, to find the animatronics who inevitably moved this time.
Only Freddy stood on the stage now. Foxy's eyes looking up at the camera were something of a cruel mercy in that he stayed put. A few flips showed Bonnie alone in the dining room, fixing the party hats again. Racket and clattering entered his ears, allowing Mike to shut off the monitor since he knew Chica now clamored around in the kitchen.
He tried to push his other thoughts to the back of his mind. The other guards didn't matter right now, neither did Phone Guy or anything else that wasn't essential to walking out the front door the next morning. Mike wrapped his arms around himself to try to get rid of the residual chill that came with everything he heard tonight, the macabre pieces his mind kept putting together.
Focus, he told himself.
Breathe.
And try to survive the night.
No matter how many times he tried to shove it back, the phone call lingered on his mind with every camera check, with every uncomfortable silence, with every small, out-of-place sound. His lack of sleep the previous day took a backseat to survival, and for once, Mike actually welcomed the weirdness he witnessed on the cameras. Every time one of them stared at him unexpectedly or disappeared, it gave him a small rush of adrenaline that he rationed as long as possible.
Mike took extra care with Foxy, like clockwork checking in on him every five minutes. Freddy remained onstage, though Bonnie and Chica seemed determined to keep him on his toes tonight. He rarely saw them in the dining room together, and whenever one came too close for comfort, the other one came by almost immediately after.
Just stay calm, Mike thought to himself. He shut the left door for the third time tonight to keep Bonnie out. They want you off-guard. They're trying to close in.
He really wished he had a cup of coffee to keep him awake. Or a cigarette to take some of the edge off.
Don't let them in. Don't let them get to you. Don't let your guard down.
Every now and then, he flipped to the bathroom camera. Sometimes, he caught Chica right there, pacing in the hallway, her beak clicking open and shut as she stared right up at him. Other times, Mike found the area empty, and in those moments, he wondered about the secrets hidden behind that wall.
Mike wearily turned on the light in the west hallway in time to catch Bonnie's retreating form in the window. As he opened the door again to save power, the lights flickered, then turned off. His heart jolted, and kept up a frantic jig even after the lights came back on a second later.
A sound rang behind him - a deep, gentle laugh, the sort that often reminded one of Santa Claus.
Mike quickly turned around in time to glimpse...a golden form.
His lungs stopped. No breath passed between his lips. Mike hardly registered the image when Freddy's laughter broke the spell, forcing his attention back to the camera. Able to breathe again, he changed his mind a split second later and turned back to get a better look at the golden thing in his office.
It disappeared in the flickering light.
Mike stared at the empty space. His right arm ached, his wrist and elbow now painfully stiff. The quick glimpse pieced together a costume of sorts, but not enough to pick out which character it was supposed to represent.
Only that it had soulless voids for eyes.
He reached up to rub his eyes and tried in vain to stifle a yawn. That damn dream simply amplified his fears to make him see and hear things, like the flickering golden Bonnie.
Whatever he thought he saw, Mike knew to push it from his mind and ignore it. The animatronics scared him enough on their own; he needn't make his own mind into another enemy. He turned back to the monitor, which flickered on its default view of the stage show, and quickly located Freddy's pinprick eyes in the dining room. After that, he started another round of check-ins.
Foxy: still in Pirate Cove, and threatening to step off that stage.
Bonnie: adjusting the party hats in the dining room to his liking.
Chica: no longer in the bathrooms, and the relative quiet meant not in the kitchen, either. Prioritize finding her before she can get too close.
He flipped a few views to try to find Chica. Mike pulled up Cam 4A to check the east hall. Aside from its emptiness, he immediately noticed something different.
On the right wall normally hung individual posters of Chica, Freddy, and Bonnie, advertising, "EATING TIME!", "FUN TIME!", and "PARTY TIME!" respectively. These, Mike rarely paid much attention to. Now each poster bore a round yellow face, with horrified white eyes buried in deep black sockets. Their mouths opened in tortured, eternal screams as thick blue tears gushed down their cheeks.
Mike winced and reflexively turned off the monitor. He blinked a few times, then turned it back on.
The posters returned to normal.
He stared at the monitor for a bit, then reached up to rub his eyes as he wished he got even a bit more sleep the day before. Everything tonight seemed bent on reminding him of his dream. About the crying children and small voices.
Mike perked, suddenly looking to each of the doors. Children disappeared here, or so the rumors said. And the Puppet was trying to show him something in that hidden room...
He chose not to dwell on the implications. Mike quickly noted the time and power: 4:44am, and 31%.
After a quick check on Foxy, he continued his search for Chica. Mike found her in the dining room, in time for her to turn toward the hallway. Just as he changed the view, the power went out again. Mike quickly hit the power button on the monitor to no avail. He frantically pushed it a few more times as he willed it to turn back on. The fan started to slow, and he no longer heard the light buzzing above.
"No, no, no, no," he whispered. "I still had power!"
He quickly grabbed his flashlight, then went to the right door. Mike clicked it on and shone the bright beam down the hallway. The words, "LET'S EAT!" came into view, and then a bright beak and purple eyes.
She was getting closer.
Mike ducked back into the office with a plea to the electricity gods to turn the power to come back on. He pressed his back against the wall. His hand hovered near the door switch. A bit of playful laughter entered his mind, along with a sing-song voice.
Ready or not, Mikey, here I come!
"No," Mike whispered again. "That's not fair! I still had thirty percent!"
He heard her footsteps on tile, each step louder than the last. As if the room heard him, the light flickered back on, the desk fan started back up, and four monitor screens came back online with the camera system. Mike quickly hit the switch, just as Chica reached the door.
The metal slab slid down and clicked just as she attempted to poke an orange toe into the room. Silence lingered for a second, broken with a giggle.
Maybe next time, Chica said.
Mike ignored her and set a hand over his chest. His heart pounded so hard, he almost directly held it in his hand. He looked over at the other door and realized he wasn't safe just yet. Mike lifted the flashlight and shone it into the open left door. He eased only when he saw nothing there. Mike then ran across the room and dared to check the hallway, and the corner just behind him.
His heart settled a little when he saw no sign of Bonnie. It jolted again when he glanced down the hall and saw the curtains at Pirate Cove move.
Mike clicked off the flashlight and quickly ran to the desk to switch the monitor view from the empty stage show to Pirate Cove. Sure enough, Foxy poked his head out and grinned up at the camera.
Forget him. Find Bonnie.
Mike went to the back room first, and for the third time in the last five minutes, his heartbeat kicked up. Normally, the masks stared ahead, but towards the far wall and away from the camera. Those that sat on the side wall were now turned in his direction. Any that still had their plastic eyes distinctly looked up at him. More than that, the endoskeleton, which normally leaned forward, now sat completely at attention, its brown eyes focused. One hand reached for him.
He quickly changed the view to the dining room, where he saw Bonnie getting back into his usual routine. Chica came into view a few seconds later. Mike glanced over to the right, and noticed the door still shut. He quickly opened it, and checked the power.
16%.
Mike grimaced and made a quick roll call. Chica and Bonnie passed each other in the dining room. In the back, he noticed Freddy's eyes shining in the dark. Foxy threatened to step off his stage. He checked the back room again, and found everything still staring at him. Mike shuddered, hating that view.
How did they...?
He let it click. Bonnie was always moving things around, whether it was chairs or masks or party hats. He glowered as he flipped back to the dining room.
"You're a bigger bastard than I thought," he muttered.
Something skittered above him. Mike glanced up, his breath catching. Nothing came into view: just the dark ceiling where the single office light couldn't break through the shadows. Freddy's laugh forced him to look away, a warning that the old bear moved again.
As Mike looked at the monitor to locate the pinprick eyes in the dark, one of the ceiling tiles quietly shifted above him. A small object fell from the gap, smacking against the tile as it landed on the floor.
The night guard jumped in his seat. He quickly turned around to make sure nothing had gotten in. Mike saw nothing at first. A glance to the floor showed a stark rectangular shape on one of the white tiles. He needed only to see the worn surface, the familiar cracks and creases in the dark brown color, and the one missing corner to recognize it:
His wallet.
Mike hastily reached down and scooped it off the floor, then went back to check in.
Freddy's eyes shone from inside the girls' bathroom, with Chica further down that hall and barely in sight of the camera. Foxy now paced just outside the Cove, ready to charge if the security guard wasn't diligent and careful. Bonnie started his part of the dining room dance, though now his eyes remained on the camera as he walked, even if it meant his head turned all the way around as his body kept marching.
Mike shut off the monitor to rid himself of Bonnie's Exorcist impression. His shaking fingers then pulled the wallet open.
He found his driver's license in its proper clear sleeve, two credit cards occupying two of the five slots, and four wrinkled dollar bills in the pouch. When he didn't see what else should have been there, he quickly flipped through the bills, then meticulously pulled them out, one by one. Oddly enough, Mike found a new item stuffed between them: a round bronze key. Mike curiously held it up. No inscription, but its make was newer. He set it aside and continued his search until the pouch was empty. Panic set in a little more when he realized the wallet no longer held his two most precious items.
Forced to ignore it for a moment, Mike went back to the monitor to check in. He tried to direct his focus on locating each animatronic. He bit his quivering lip, blinked back a few tears. It shouldn't matter this much, he knew. They were only pictures. Mike reached up to wipe his eyes and fought back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. After everything else tonight, he felt like this might finally break him.
Last night, having Vanna's smiling face gave him encouragement and hope. Tonight, when he needed it most, he wouldn't even have that. He would die all alone, unable to even pretend someone had been with him. He would join Phone Guy and disappear, just like...
With a deep breath, Mike turned a stern gaze to the cameras. He let the last stray tears fall. None of that mattered, he reminded himself. He got this far on just wit and determination. At any cost, he would survive until morning.
Another breath to assure himself, a forced thought of Vanna's smiling face. Of her laughter, her style, of how everything about her brightened the room.
Mike shoved the bills back into his wallet. He looked over the key again before he slipped it into his pocket. He then went back to the cameras and flipped to the back room to look for Bonnie. Nothing there but the empty heads. His neck throbbed. Mike gently reached up to soothe it, his fingers chilled against his hot flesh.
Try not to think about it. Push it back until you leave this office in the morning. No use wondering which mask Phone Guy wore, which suit sealed his fate. Do what you can to avoid it yourself.
He faintly heard a metallic scraping sound, and quickly shut the left door. A flip to Cam 2A confirmed his suspicions as Foxy darted down the hallway, yellow eyes wide open and crazed, hook flailing, his metal feet pounding into the floor. The banging against the door a few seconds later reminded him of the phone call. Mike turned around to the right door and flicked the flashlight into the empty hallway.
Nothing.
He went back to the monitor and changed the views to Cam 4A and 4B to ensure the east hall was clear. Only then did Mike approach the right door, dare to peer out into the hall with the flashlight, and check both sides to ensure clearance.
A figure on the dining room end of the hall appeared in the bright beam, then darted away, but Mike recognized the chocolate brown color. He briefly remembered that Freddy liked the dark, and wondered if the flashlight chased him away. Probably best not to gamble unless all other options were gone. He most likely just caught the animatronic off-guard.
The security guard ducked back into the office and did a check of the west hall to ensure Foxy went back to Pirate Cove and that Bonnie hadn't come back around in the meantime. Once in the clear, he opened the door.
Focus.
Breathe.
You headed him off once tonight; you can keep him from running again.
Mike did another roll call, then sank back in his seat. His eyes wandered up to the ceiling, where he heard the skittering earlier. The dim office bulb only lit up the area directly around it, keeping the ceiling tiles encased in shadow. His eyes went back to his wallet on the desk. Mike grabbed it and put it back in his pocket. He then glanced back up at the spot right above where he found it.
They took the photos. Rather, the Puppet took the photos, then dropped the wallet for him to find. It had to have been the Puppet; none of the others were light or thin enough to travel through the crawlspace above. It wanted him to know they were missing, that no one else could have taken them.
And then it left him the key.
"It's a machine," he whispered. "Why would it…?"
Mike suddenly remembered the musical chimes that morning that came from behind the wall beside the bathrooms. Puppet directed him there from the bathroom camera the night before, too.
Was that how it disappeared when the camera went black? It crawled into the ceiling tiles?
He pulled up the monitor to check for the others as he processed his thoughts. The Puppet led him to that hidden room to begin with. And now it stole his pictures. But the key…
Mike mulled over it as he flipped back to the dining room, to a rare instance tonight of Bonnie and Chica weaving between the tables. He ignored them as he paid more attention to the tablecloths and wondered if the Puppet came out of its box tonight.
"...What are you up to?" Mike whispered. "Why are you doing this?"
Silence.
With no other choice, Mike checked in on Freddy and Foxy. Pirate Cove showed closed curtains, and so far, no sign of Freddy in the dining area or bathrooms. He cycled through the whole restaurant, looking at the shadows for the pinpricks. On the second time around, he found him.
Freddy positioned himself carefully in the east hall, just beyond the emergency light there. Its brightness provided camouflage almost as well as the shadows. Mike picked out Freddy's outline, flecks of brown plush, his eyes lazily staring ahead through the light. The metal endoskeleton pieces under his robotic ears glistened until they nearly blinded him, causing Mike to wince when he noticed them.
A glance to the right door, then back to the monitor. Mike's right hand twitched, ready to hit the door switch if he got any closer. Freddy's deep laugh sounded then, mocking him. He saw it on the camera, Freddy's bottom jaw going down, then up with each boisterous chortle.
Footsteps from the other hallway got his attention, and fearing Foxy, Mike kicked his chair over to the left door and shut it quickly. A second later, he realized the footsteps had padding, not the distinct clanking Foxy made when he decided to charge. Regardless, he didn't trust any of them, and hit the light switch.
The flickering hall lights came on, though he caught a dark silhouette up against the window frame, one with large ears on top of its head. Mike narrowed his eyes. He ignored the sudden throbbing at his neck.
"Not tonight, you bunny bastard bitch," he muttered.
Another of Freddy's deep laughs sounded from the other side. Mike turned around and dove to hit the other switch. His entire body pressed against the wall. The door came down too slowly for his comfort. Freddy's mocking laugh just after it closed spoke enough of his minor victory. Mike glowered, then slid to the floor, back against the wall to catch his breath.
Trapped, he realized. Trapped with his power levels dwindling. He glanced up at the monitor, not sure if he wanted to see how far the power dropped since he last checked.
The night's phone call came to mind again as he pulled himself back onto his feet. Mike checked the right door light. He saw no shadow, but suspected Freddy still stood behind it. He slowly pulled himself over to the other side of the room. A quick flick of the door light revealed a long-eared shadow in the little window.
Neither seemed keen on leaving anytime soon.
Mike sank back in his seat and pulled up the camera. Freddy's arm barely showed in the east hall corner. Foxy peeked from behind his curtain. Chica paced around the bathrooms. Mike shut off the monitor and checked his watch.
5:34am.
You're running out of time.
The thought filled his head as Mike pulled up the monitor to check the power gauge for the first time in he didn't know how long. Throughout the night, he took brief glimpses at both his power levels and his watch, but now he felt his heart sink as he realized just how little of each he had left.
3%.
He glanced between the two doors, where an animatronic stood waiting behind either one. The longer they remained shut, the faster the power drained. Mike watched the power level slowly dwindle until it hit 0%. He had seconds at best.
Only one thing to do now.
He grabbed his flashlight and gently held it in his lap. After that, he held completely still. It was a gamble, but going limp might buy him a little more time. And if there was ever a time to test his theory with the flashlight…
The lights went out. A gentle hum echoed throughout the entire building. The magnetic locks clicked open, and he heard the metal doors slide up into their chambers. Mike winced, but remained in his seat. Only a faint bit of light revealed the fan, the boxy shapes of the old monitors stacked one on top of the other, and some trash on his desk.
Should he run for it? Stay put? Try to hide?
Every muscle froze as his heartbeat picked up. He watched the doors in the corner of his eyes, as they better adjusted to the dark. From all around him, he heard shifting and moving, but no footsteps.
Come on, you bastards, Mike thought. Quit fucking around and come get me.
Silence.
He started to pick out the band poster, some of the children's drawings, and the cupcake toy. In the dark, they seemed to shift and distort. A few quick blinks cleared that problem away.
Then he heard it.
Faint and careful, and much lighter than it should have been, but he knew the sound of padded feet on tile, particularly at the left door. Mike tensed, imagined Bonnie coming his way. The footsteps stopped just outside the room. He heard the chimes first, then saw a flickering light. With the strictest control, he turned his head until he saw what looked like a face in the dark.
Blue eyes, flickering in time to the music box chimes. Only thoughts of survival kept him from jumping at the sight. The blinking lights disoriented him a bit, but Mike picked out a nose, eyes, white teeth. At first, he thought of Bonnie, but the rabbit had red eyes, not blue.
It suddenly snapped into place.
"Freddy," Mike whispered.
He caught the flecks of brown now, the round edges of his ears. The music box song kept playing, and Mike's blood chilled. He heard it on tonight's recording...and knew which one of them did Phone Guy in.
Did you come for me too? he thought.
The music box kept playing, light, cheerful, triumphant. Freddy simply stood there as the song slowed to an end, but continued into another round. Mike tensed with each note and waited. Waited for the song to cut out like he heard on the phone call. For Freddy to tire of it and come for him.
He swallowed carefully, more than aware of the open door to the right. For all he knew, another one lurked outside, just waiting for the right signal to pounce.
That they had him trapped.
Cornered.
Destined to join the man on the phone.
The song stopped, and with it, the light that flickered on Freddy's face. Mike blinked a few times to reset his night vision and listened. He only heard the beating of his own heart. Nothing shifted, no servos hissed, no footsteps came closer.
The silence terrified him enough that a soft knock made him jump. Mike glanced to the right where it originated. Something moved then, and he looked to the left to try to catch it. His skin pricked with the knowledge that he wasn't alone in the room.
"Just come for me," he whispered.
Even if he tried to run, he'd never make it. If Freddy didn't get him now, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy were all waiting and ready to intercept him.
A strong stench suddenly filled his nose. Mike recognized it from when Bonnie dragged him out of the room last night. Something then gripped his right shoulder. Mike pulled away. Thinking quickly, he turned on the flashlight and shoved the bright beam up into his attacker's face.
Freddy froze for a moment, his face now fully lit up. His nose was only inches from Mike's, his bright blue eyes oddly friendly, his mechanical ears twitching softly. For a long while, the animatronic stood in place, bent forward to better be level with the night guard. His large hand clasped Mike's shoulder only tightly enough to keep him from getting up or pulling away.
Freddy dropped the microphone he still carried in the other hand. The hard resin accessory clattered to the floor and rolled away from the chair. Freddy then ripped the flashlight from Mike's hand. He just as quickly found the button to turn it off and encased them both in darkness. A soft clicking sound matched the words that entered his mind.
That won't work anymore.
Mike recognized the deep baritone. He tried to pull away then, but Freddy's grip tightened as an order to stay there. Only because the large machine made no other attempt to drag him away did Mike comply.
Two bright disks broke through the shadows, the centers showing black circles surrounded by blue rings. Mike sucked in a breath, not only to avoid that horrible pungence, but to remain as still as he could while Freddy looked him over and decided his fate. The black eyelids slid down a little, giving the eyes a softer expression. Mike let out a small, helpless laugh.
"...If you're going to kill me," he whispered, "then do it."
No, Michael, came the answer.
Freddy let go of him, and from watching the glowing eyes increase in height, Mike knew he stood straight again. The plastic eyes remained on him, watching his every move.
You came for answers. Use this remaining time wisely.
The disappeared as Freddy turned away. Mike heard the soft, padded footsteps leaving the room. He checked his watch to see how close he got to death. The glowing green digits now read 5:45am.