Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.

This was it. The last night. After this night he wouldn't have to worry about animatronics trying to kill him anymore. His week would be complete and he would be free to go back into unemployment and listening to his father's displeased commentaries about his lack of responsibility. Between that and ending up dead via being stuffed in a suit, he would listen to his father gladly.

As Mike walked down the dark halls of the pizzeria, he looked at the drawings hanging on the walls. So many children that went there, not knowing that people had died within the premises. Not knowing that those robotic characters they loved so much were responsible for killing several guards. Well, not entirely responsible – if they were indeed being controlled by something, then that "something" was the real culprit.

He then thought about the people who still worked at the pizzeria. Stewart liked his job – naturally, he had no metallic murderers coming after him… - but had confessed to him that he was thinking about going somewhere else; as in, somewhere where he would get more money. Jim had shown no problems with his job either so far, but Mike had the uneasy feeling that man knew much more about the pizzeria and the animatronics than what he was letting on. Some of the commentaries he had made in the past made it seem like he was very much aware of everything that was going on there. Lawrence seemed to have his own personal reasons to want to keep running the place, but he doubted the man would share them with him anytime soon. The fact he had even bothered to answer his questions about Phil and even told him about the pressure he was under by the owner of the company was a surprise in itself, really. What was it that made Lawrence tell him that anyway?

Mike stopped walking. He had ended up in the dining area, near to the stage, without even noticing. The animatronics stood there, looking into nothingness. He remembered what Jim had told him on his third night. The animatronics talked back, if he was willing to listen – or something like that.

He sighed. Well, no harm in trying, right?

"Hey, guys. You know me, right? The guard you've been trying to kill the past five days?"

The robots made no indication that they were even aware he was next to him.

He scratched the back of his neck and went on. "So… I know it isn't your fault. I know something is making you do it. Don't worry, I don't hate you, Bonnie," he added, turning towards the purple bunny, as he remembered what the robot had tried telling him via sign language on his third night. "… This is gonna be my last night here. I'm not going to come back. There's nothing here for me. I wish I could do something to help you guys fight against whatever's controlling you, but I don't think there's anything I can do…"

He paused to look at the robots. They remained frozen in place, without making a sound. He shook his head. What was he doing…? They hadn't listened to anything he had told them, for sure. And even if they had, it wouldn't do them any good.

"So this is the last time we'll be seeing one another, Mike Schmidt?"

Mike frowned, and looked behind him. Jim was standing right there, holding his trusty mop, smiling calmly. When did he get there? He hadn't even heard him walk towards him.

"I'm afraid so," he replied, turning to face him. "I don't think this job is the right one for me…"

Jim nodded. "Quite a lot to handle, isn't it? Still, I'm sorry to hear that you'll be leaving us."

"Better than dying," Mike retorted, wondering what the senior would say to that.

The janitor chuckled. "Indeed. I believe you went to see Phil Grayson at the hospital this afternoon?"

The night guard raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"A little golden bird told me," Jim replied, still with his eerie smile. "I too visited him, just this past Tuesday." He shook his head. "Such a shame he ended up in that condition. Though, as you put it, 'better than dying'."

"So you're one of the two people his sister allowed to visit him, uh?"

Jim nodded. "Yes, I was. I believe Mr. Richards was the other one…"

"Lawrence… went to see him?" Mike asked, surprised. He was sure if it was him in that hospital, Lawrence wouldn't have bothered.

The janitor's smile became wider. "Now, now, Mike Schmidt. Don't sound so surprised. Surely you don't think Mr. Richards is a heartless man?"

He laughed at Mike's expression, which showed he had certainly considered such a possibility.

"Mr. Richards is under a lot of pressure, Mike Schmidt. The owner of Fazbear Entertainment is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep his company running, even if it means concealing the deaths of his employees," Jim explained. "If anything was to happen in this pizzeria that would ruin the company's reputation…"

"… it would fall on him, I know," Mike completed. "Lawrence already told me that. He said he can't afford to lose this pizzeria. Does he have problems with money or something?"

Jim looked at him. "What Mr. Richards risks losing if this pizzeria closes down is much more valuable than money, Mike Schmidt. That man already lost quite a lot. Perhaps that is why he's the man he is today…" he sighed.

Mike frowned, staring at Jim. What could he mean with that? What could Lawrence possibly have in that pizzeria that was so important to him?

The janitor looked at his watch. "Well, it seems like it's time for me to leave. I trust you have everything under control?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, I'm good." Hopefully, he added in his thoughts.

Jim turned around to leave, but stopped in his tracks as he seemed to lose his balance. Mike moved quickly to catch him in case he fell, but the senior managed to stop himself by holding the edge of a nearby table.

"Are you alright?" the night guard asked worriedly.

The janitor smiled and nodded. Now that Mike was close to him, he could see he looked extremely tired. He had dark rings around his eyes, and looked very pale.

"Don't you worry about me, Mike Schmidt… Age is catching up with me, unfortunately. But I'll be alright. Nothing that a good night sleep won't heal."

Mike watched the janitor as he walked away, with a slow and unsteady step, coughing lightly as he disappeared in the darkness. The elder didn't look so good. And for some reason, watching him walk away until the shadows of the dining hall engulfed him made him have a bad feeling. Like something bad was to happen soon.

The night guard stretched his arms and leaned on his chair. His strategy had helped him get through the night before much more easily than the other nights – where he had just spazzed out like a moron without a proper plan -, so if he remained calm and focused there was no reason for that night to go bad.

Once the clock hit midnight, he grabbed his tablet and checked the show stage.

Then, to his surprise, the phone started ringing.

Mike looked at the phone frowning. Phil was the only one who left him messages, and he had been attacked during his fourth one. There was no way he would have been able to record a fifth one.

Once the message started playing, Mike gulped. The voice speaking was so heavily distorted it was impossible for him to understand what it was saying. There was static interrupting each sentence, and it sounded kind of demonic.

"What the hell is this shit…?" he thought aloud, clicking on the button to stop the message. He was not going to listen to the rest of it. Could it have been the animatronics…? No… It was probably whatever entity was controlling them that recorded it. To mess with him and Phil, probably.

He shook his head and checked the cameras. He was not going to get disturbed over it. He had seen Phil in the hospital after all; he was hurt, but alive. He was fine. And now that he had his sister's number, he would be able to call her and check on his condition.

"I will call you to inform you about any progress on his condition," Dr. McKinley had said to him as he was ready to leave the hospital, handing him a piece of paper with her phone number written on it. "And you can call me in case you want to visit him. I will warn the receptionist to let you in."

Mike closed the right door as Chica was there, staring at him. He took the chance to check the cameras on the right side of the map, noticing a poster that read "List of Rules" hanging on the wall of the east hall, seen on Cam 4B. One of the rules were "Don't poop on the floor". He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. How many times did that happen for the management to put it up as rule…? Poor Jim.

After checking Pirate Cove and Cam 2B, he checked the door lights. Chica was still there, obviously, and Bonnie hadn't gotten to his office yet. He was surprised with himself. He didn't feel nervous. It felt natural to him now, as if he was already used to it.

He glanced at the balls of paper that were scattered on the desk, next to the bottle of water he had brought from home. "Humph. They bleach the premises and change the carpets if someone dies but can't be bothered to clean my office," he complained, annoyed. He then took one ball of paper and started unfolding it, to see what was written in it.

A squeaking noise made him look to his right. Chica had her hands pressed against the glass again, staring at the ball of paper in his hands. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at the paper. Once completely stretched, he could see some messy handwriting.

"PLEASE GET OUT"

He frowned. Underneath was another sentence, and another. The one following "Please get out" was written in a more presentable style, immediately followed by the messy one. It seemed like two people were passing notes, replying to the note by writing underneath it.

"Why are you acting like this?

WE DON'T MEAN IT PLEASE GET OUT

Tell me what's going on"

Underneath was a mess of scribbles and lines, as if whoever was writing wanted to reply but their hand was not moving like they wanted it to. They must have given up on whatever they wanted to write and decided to say something else because underneath was their answer.

WE DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU LEAVE

Tell me what I can do to help you

SHUT US DOWN PLEASE SHUT US DOWN"

The night guard looked at the chicken staring at him from the window. She blinked and looked at him. He checked the cameras and the door lights quickly before grabbing another ball of paper and unfolding it.

"WHY DO YOU WANT TO STAY

PLEASE DADDY LEAVE"

Mike sighed before putting the papers back on the desk. If he assumed that whoever had the messy handwriting was one of the animatronics, then the person they were talking to had to be Phil. Considering they called the person "daddy", it made sense.

"… Foxy…"

The night guard picked up the tablet quickly and checked Pirate Cove upon hearing that familiar robotic voice. Foxy was peeking out the curtains, looking up at the camera.

"Darn… thanks for the heads up," he said, knowing that the yellow bear had been the one to warn him, even though he couldn't see him anywhere.

"Focus," the invisible bear said, sounding like he was scolding him.

"I know, I know, I'm on it." He opened the right door as he replied, as Chica was no longer there. He couldn't get distracted, especially not that night.

"What the hell…"

Mike didn't know if it was because it was his last night there and the entity controlling the animatronics was desperate to get to him or not, but there was a lot going on that night.

Asides from the animatronics being far more active than usual, Mike couldn't help but notice a couple of changes in décor. Some of the drawings made by the kids seemed to change as the night went by, and they all showed the same picture – a child, crying. Even though he was already slightly more open to the possibility of that place actually being haunted, he did not expect that to happen. And he didn't know what it was supposed to mean. After all, the kids loved the pizzeria and the robots, there was no reason for them to cry – it was the adults that were terrified of going there. He also noticed that one time, after Foxy left Pirate Cove, the sign that usually said that the place was out of order said "IT'S ME" instead. That one in particular got him confused. It was the yellow bear who usually said that, as way of greeting.

"… Did you do that?" he asked aloud, expecting the bear to answer, wherever he was.

"… No…" came the reply.

"Hm…" Mike stared at the sign for a while before resuming his strategy. "So where are you right now?"

"Kitchen"

Mike closed the left door after spotting Bonnie there, and took a sip of water. "I can't see what goes on in there. Anything interesting?"

"Freddy"

The night guard almost choked on the water he was drinking. He checked the show stage and saw the Freddy was, indeed, gone. He then looked at the right door, which was open. If Freddy was indeed in the kitchen then he was heading towards him. So far he hadn't been able to spot him anywhere else other than the bathroom.

He checked his watch. He had one hour left to the end of his shift, and still a reasonable amount of power.

The guard sighed. "Oh well, so far so good. Can you warn me when he moves closer? I can't see him on the cameras…"

The yellow bear took a while to answer. "You got it"

Mike nodded, smiling. At least he had his help. He hadn't tried to figure out what was the mysterious bear's true identity, but he couldn't lose focus right now. Even if the night was going well, he couldn't take his survival for granted.

Half an hour passed. The yellow bear didn't talk during that time, so Mike trusted he was keeping Freddy under surveillance. The other three animatronics kept trying to get in but Mike managed to keep his office out of limits for them.

It was 5h55 when the yellow bear talked again.

"Cam 4B"

Mike checked said camera quickly. Freddy was there. Just like Bonnie on his first night, he had his face so close to the camera it was impossible to see anything else.

"Bonnie already pulled that one, Freddy. Find your own stuff." He put down the tablet and stretched. The times when he got startled over every little thing that the animatronics pulled on him were gone, it seemed. It had only been four days ago, but he felt much more confident and braver now.

"Close the door"

Mike frowned. "But he isn't at the door yet…"

"He's different," he warned. "Close the door"

The guard did as told, closing the right door. He then looked at the desk. "… You know, you still haven't told me who you are. I know you're not Phil, so… who are you?"

The yellow bear suddenly appeared on his desk, looking at him. "It's me," he said.

He rolled his eyes. "Right, that's so helpful…" he muttered.

A giggle was heard. The same as the one he heard the first time the yellow bear appeared. A little girl's giggle.

"I'm Golden Freddy"

Mike narrowed his eyes. "Right, and your real name?" he insisted. That ghost couldn't belong to an animatronic – robots don't have souls.

Golden Freddy looked at him for a while. "Bye, Mikey"

Before the guard could say anything, his watch announced the end of his shift. He stared at the watch in his wrist for a couple of seconds. He had made it. His shift was over. Theweek was over. He had survived five nights at Freddy's. He looked up, and the yellow bear was no longer there.

*16 Hours Ago*

"… Hello, hello…?"

…

"… Mike…?"

…

"GET UP"

Mike's eyes snapped open. He had gone home after his fifth (and last) night on the job to get some well deserved sleep, but his rest was cut short as he felt the sudden urge to get up. Problem was, he wasn't on his room anymore.

He was lying on the cold floor, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling above him. Wires were hanging from it, and a light breeze made them move slightly, as if they were seaweed under water. He sat up slowly, looking around him. He recognized those tiles. He recognized those creepy drawings on the walls. He was at the pizzeria.

"Alright… this is a dream… I'm dreaming…" he muttered to himself, taking deep breaths to calm himself down from the initial scare of waking up in a different place from the one he had fallen asleep in. "You're safe… in your bed… asleep…"

"…Mikey…"

He closed his eyes. He recognized the voice, but was not going to pay attention to it this time. It wasn't real. "It's a dream… wake up… wake up…"

"…Help them…"

The guard jumped slightly as something touched his arm. He looked over to see a little girl with black hair who was kneeling on the floor next to him. She was rubbing her knee and sobbing, as if she had just fallen.

"Aw…" she whimpered.

He stared at her and moved slightly away from her. It was a dream. Just a random dream…

"Rika, come on!" called a voice, another girl, but this one had brown hair tied in a ponytail. She was at the end of the hallway, waving at the black-haired girl. "Hurry!"

The girl named Rika stood up, brushing dust off her skirt and skipped over to the brown-haired girl, holding her hand once she reached her.

"Where is he?" she asked.

The brown-haired girl pointed to her left. "Right over there."

"Follow me…"

Mike stood up, suddenly. That voice that just talked, sounded robotic like the yellow bear's, but it wasn't him. It didn't sound right. He felt like whoever it was that was talking, he shouldn't trust him.

The two little girls followed the voice. The girl named Rika didn't look too sure, but the other girl pulled her along.

"Help them"

"Hey!" he called, starting to follow the girls. "Wait! Don't follow him!"

He completely forgot that he was – for sure… - in a dream, and dashed after the two children. Once he reached the corner that they had just passed by, however, he found a dead end.

"What the…"

All there was in that dead end was a table. And on that table, there was a worn-out music box. The music coming out of it was very familiar – "Pop goes the weasel". It was starting to play faster and faster, and the lid was opening slightly at each second. For some reason, Mike felt like the best thing to do was to just close the music box and toss it as far away as possible.

Once the music stopped, wires shot out of the music box, taking hold of the guard's arms and legs and squeezing them.

Just like with Bonnie, there was very little he could do against the strength of those wires. If that was indeed a dream, then it felt very, very real. The pain of being squeezed by those wires felt real, and the fear of realizing there was something ominous coming out of the music box felt real as well.

He took a quick glance at what was emerging from the box while he struggled against the wires. A puppet of some sort, with a wide grin and red cheeks, stared at him. It was tall and slender, colored black and white save for the cheeks and some tear-like blue streaks that went from its eyes to its chin.

The puppet was pulling the strings, and as Mike got closer to the box, its grin got wider.

"We have a place for you ~" it said, with an eerie sing-song voice.

Horrifying screams echoed through the hall, as if someone was being tortured. It sounded like the two little girls he was just following, and they were screaming for help.

"HELP THEM," Golden Freddy's voice thundered.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" Mike doubled – no, tripled – his efforts to set himself free. He couldn't bear listening to those girls screaming; he had to so something.

"Get off me – I have to save them!"

The wires instantly disappeared, and for a second, he thought the puppet had let him go so he could go save the kids. But just then, he felt something grab his shoulders. He looked up to see a near-solid purple shadow looming over him. It was shaped like Bonnie, and its pupils were white and intense. It grinned at him wickedly, apparently extremely amused at the sound of the children being tortured.

"YOU CAN'T"

"Mike!"

Mike screamed and fell on the floor. He looked around him frantically, realizing he was sitting next to his couch. He was in his living room, sweating and panting. The whole thingwas a nightmare…

"Mike! Are you okay?"

He looked up to see Claire looking at him worriedly.

"You were turning and mumbling in your sleep just now. Were you having a bad dream?" she asked, placing a hand on his forehead.

He nodded. "Yeah… D-don't worry, I'm alright… I'm alright…" he assured, though it felt like a lie. He was still looking around as if he was expecting that shadowy-Bonnie thing to be there still smirking at him.

"You sure?" Claire asked, raising an eyebrow. "You were saying 'I have to save them' over and over…"

"Oh…" He gulped, trying to think quickly of an excuse. "… It must have been because of a movie or something… I don't really remember…"

Claire kept looking at him with the same worried expression, but nodded. "I'll make you some coffee."

He thanked her as she walked away, standing up. He wiped the sweat off his face and looked out the window. He didn't save those kids. Even if it was just in a dream, he couldn't forget the feeling of despair that was in Golden Freddy's voice as he asked him to "help them". But he didn't help them. He failed.

"Here's your coffee," Claire announced, handing him a cup of coffee. "Listen, I have a meeting today, with other pet shop assistants, to discuss animal well-fare."

Mike nodded absent-mindedly. "Great…"

"So I might come home a little more late than usual," she warned. "And – I need your help. Which dress is better?"

She showed him two dresses, one purple with a black ribbon around the waist, and the other light green with black flower-like patterns. He immediately pointed at the green one.

She glanced at him surprised. "That was fast. You usually take a while to decide, or go like 'I don't know, you look fine in anything…'" she giggled, paraphrasing him and trying to imitate his voice.

The guard took a sip of his coffee. The image of that purple shadow grinning as those little girls were being hurt emerged on his mind, which made him feel the urge to destroy anything in that color.

"I hate the color purple…"