Night Eleven: War is Over
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my boss gave to me…
Mike finds himself bent over those same security cameras and longing for home. It's Christmas Eve, and he'd rather be resting. His head is ringing, and oddly enough, he hasn't seen anything at all. There have been no hallucinations, no confrontations with the animatronics—just quiet. Thus, he's been frantically checking the cameras and trying to figure out why no one has been approaching the doors.
Then, at about two in the morning, an era song begins to emanate from the show stage.
"SiLeNT NiGHT, HoLY NiGHT...aLL iS CaLM, aLL iS BRiGHT…" He watches as the five animatronics gather, singing together. Freddy conducts with its right hand, smiling for perhaps the first time that Mike knows of. And it is quiet.
Not long after the impromptu choir, Freddy trots down the east hall and slips an envelope under the closed door. It is addressed to him. Inside, there is a card, or rather, a folded piece of paper, and in childish writing, crayon is smudged to form the words: SoRRY, THaNK You, MeRRY CHRiSTMaS, TRuCe?
To this, Mike responds by checking each camera one by one, opening his doors, and nervously wandering out to the show stage. He'd like to see and end to all of this killing. It needs to stop, and if he can stop it, then he will. But in the time that it took him to creep down the hall, it had all gone to hell, like it often does at Freddy's.
See, in that minute or so, Springtrap had decided to come out and play.
"Round yon Virgin, Mother and CHiLD," a deep voice proclaims, laughter ringing through the halls. Chica lets out a final scream as Springtrap rips it to shreds. Enraged, Bonnie launches itself at the attacker, only for its endoskeleton to be ripped out in one fluid motion and cast aside. The lights leave both of their eyes as oil oozes into the carpet.
Mike glances around looking for anything that could possibly help them, but there is nothing he can do.
In that moment, Freddy throws itself at Springtrap, pulling it into a wrestling and nodding at Mike over its shoulder. Run, it seemed to say. Mike hurries down the hall to the office, intending to lock himself in there for the rest of the night, but pauses.
These are the animatronics that he (kind of) befriended. He can't just sit there any watch this. No! He needs to do something, anything at all!
By the time Mike resolves his internal dilemma and rushes back to aid the lead singer of the Fazbear gang, it is too late. Freddy lies, beheaded and sparking from every joint, in the oil of his crew, lifeless eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Then, the rabbit slowly turns on him, a smile growing on its bloodstained lips. Mike takes a step back, weilding the knife before him and trying to remain confident.
"Haven't you done enough?" Mike asks, voice shaking not with fear but rather anger. "Isn't it enough that you trapped them here, to rot in this place?"
This was evidently the wrong thing to say, as Springtrap then immediately lunges at Mike, bloodthirst written in its eyes, but before it can lay a finger on the beloved night guard, something long and sharp pierces through its stuffing, and the scent of rotting flesh fills the air. Springtrap falls forward, clutching its midsection, as Foxy slams its bare robotic foot into the wound, forcing the rabbit to the ground.
"Behave," Foxy growls, drawing its brand new sword from the rabbit's back. It faces Mike. "I didn't think this thing would be so useful, aye?"
"Will the others...Will they be okay?" Mike asks, eyeing the corpses piled on the carpet.
"...It'll, It'll be fine." Foxy's voice box trembles and cracks. It is such a horrible liar. "The mechanics w-will put them back together, and life w-will go on as—" Springtrap kicks out his legs, knocking Foxy to the floor and grabbing its sword, slashing the fox cleanly in half. The sword breaks, its blade snapped from having sliced through such strong endoskeleton, and leaves but a jagged tip to glint in the dim light of the restaurant.
Then, Springtrap rises, smirking at the destruction around it.
"Holy infant so TeNDeR and MiLD," it sings, slowly approaching Mike, but Mike does not stand down. Instead, he begins to speak:
"So you'll end this just how it started, with an act of unspeakable violence?" Mike shakes his head. "I thought you just wanted this to end, to let it all be over. And as far as I can see it, there are two ways this can go."
Springtrap pauses, tilting its head. What is this night guard talking about?
Mike continues, "You can kill me, cause the restaurant to be shut down, and be left here to rot or maybe be destroyed in the demolition. Either way, it's a long, slow, painful death. After so many years of suffering, I don't think you'd want that."
This is true. More than anything, Springtrap just wants the pain to stop.
"Your other option is that I disable you. I will make it fast, swift, and it is more mercy than you probably deserve, but I think they'd just want you gone at this point. Let me end this nightmare for all of us."
There is silence. Then, Springtrap sits down, weakly casting aside the sword, and holds up its arms in surrender. Mike carefully approaches, taking up the sword himself and moving behind the animatronic.
There is a wire in the neck, one that when destroyed would end the damned rabbit's suffering. He found blueprints when researching the Bite of 1987, and Springtrap should be no exception. Mike digs through several layers of rotting flesh, cringing at the black blood staining his sweaty palms, and clasps his hand around the wire, pulling the cord into better light.
Then, Mike raises the sword.
Softly, Springtrap begins to sing in order to distract itself from the inevitably before it: "SLeeP iN HeaVeNLY PeaCe...SLeeP iN HeaVeNLY Pe—" It doesn't get to finish its song before the sword swings down upon it. Springtrap doesn't feel a thing as it collapses against the tile, now no more than a tangle of metal and flesh.
Mike stares at his bloody hands and lets out a loud curse, trembling from the adrenaline. He...He...with all of those fancy security cameras, he still couldn't do his one job. He couldn't keep those animatronics safe. With that, Mike stands and goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. There is something that must be done before he leaves.
...eleven security cameras, ten broken bones, nineteen eighty-seven, eight percent power, seven bucks under minimum wage, six hour shifts, five nights in hell, four phone calls, three band members, two pneumatic doors, and a phantom Fredbear screeching, IT'S ME.