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After Hours
From the Hands of Babes
It was a sudden streak of curiosity that had led to Mike finding the pictures. He'd just gotten himself situated into the guard room for the night, as he'd done many times before, when he noticed the desk in a way that he never really had before. Of course, that wasn't to say that the desk had magically appeared overnight, but for the first time Mike actually perceived it instead of glossing over it.
It wasn't a particularly notable desk, but it was well-structured enough to do its job nicely. Mike was more interested, of course, in the contents of the many drawers built into it. Pulling them open, the guard was disappointed to find that they were for the most part empty, save for a few stray pens and empty manila folders.
But there was one drawer that bore fruit. Naturally, it was also the last drawer that Mike bothered to check. Mike pulled it open eagerly and was mildly surprised to see a folder that was not empty but rather thick and bulging with paper contents. Gingerly pulling the folder from its resting place, Mike set it down on the desk with an audible 'thud' and flipped it open.
A crayon drawing met his eyes. It was old, as evidenced by the darkly yellowing paper it was drawn upon. It wasn't exactly a good drawing, probably done by a five or six-year-old. In fact Mike could just barely make out the big purple bunny ears that Bonnie possessed. At least, he thought they were ears. Maybe they were arms? Either way, the drawing had a name scrawled at the bottom: Caleb.
A quick rifling through the contents of the folder showed Mike that the rest of the papers were pretty much the same as the first; a bunch of old crayon drawings. There were actually some really good ones mixed in with the rabble – at least, as good as they could be for little kids. The guard had to admit, it was an interesting surprise. He knew from experience that visitors to Freddy's were always given crayons and encouraged to draw what they pleased, but he never knew what happened to the pictures after the animatronics collected them. Were these all the pictures? Probably not, Mike decided. The restaurant had been open for a while even before things started to go downhill, so there were likely lots more drawings than just the ones in the one folder.
Closing the folder, Mike couldn't help but wonder if the animatronics knew about these drawings. Very few of them, Mike noticed, looked new, which made sense considering all the bad rap the pizzeria had been getting over the years. The Bite, the dead kids, the missing guards...
How the hell was this place still open?
Mike brushed his musings aside and made a decision. The drawings may have been old, but they were a reminder of a better past for the establishment; a time untainted by the scandals that would befall it. Mike knew that despite their upbeat attitudes, all four of the animatronics were hurting inside. They loved the kids, and nowadays they so rarely got to see and befriend any of them. But this folder just might make them feel a little better. Even if it would just be a little, it would be more than enough satisfaction for Mike.
Folder under one arm, he turned to walk out of the booth.
SCREEEEEEEEE!
...But first he was going to murder that fox.
"Was that you screaming?" Bonnie chuckled as Mike wandered into the dining hall, gently shaking his right hand. Foxy followed in behind him, massaging his jaw and moaning in pain.
Mike nodded grimly. "Foxy was being clever. Apparently, my reflexes kinda kicked in and, well..." The guard held his hand forward, revealing an ugly bruise on his knuckles. Freddy winced at the sight and walked off, claiming that he was getting the first aid kit.
"Aye, why'd ya hafta hit me?" Foxy whined. "I was jus' havin' a lil' bit o' fun!"
"Your 'fun,' Foxy, is what's been keeping me up the past two weeks," Mike sniped back. "I've got a life outside of here, and the fact that I'm jumpy as all hell during the day because I don't get much sleep doesn't help one bit. I don't mind you having fun, but please make sure it at least doesn't involve triggering any past traumas of mine, alright?"
Defeated, Foxy nodded, and Mike softened. "Look, I'll check out your jaw later. For now, I've actually got something to show everybody." Mike collapsed into a chair and flopped the folder down on a table. Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy all crowded around to see better, and Freddy soon joined them, medical kit under his arm.
"You... wanted to show us an old folder?" Chica inquired skeptically.
"I think he wants t' show us what's in th' folder," Freddy corrected the chicken, before striding over to Mike's side. "Show me yer hand, boy." Mike obliged, and Freddy started to wrap it with bandages from the kit.
"Freddy's right, actually," Mike continued, turning his attention back to the other three. "I found this thing in the desk from my booth and, I don't know, I guess I just thought it would be a nice surprise to show you."
"Well, don't leave us hanging!" Chica tore the folder open... and burst out laughing upon seeing the top picture. Mike and the others leaned over, and to Mike's dismay it was the poorly drawn picture of Bonnie that he'd seen before. He'd set it right on top and forgotten about it.
"It looks- it looks just like Bonnie!" Chica shouted joyously, bent over with her hand placed on a nearby table for stability; she really was laughing that hard.
For once, the rabbit was at a complete loss for words. "What- wh- you - that looks nothing like me!" He shouted indignantly. "I mean, yeah, it's purple, but look at my arms! My arms are not that long!"
"Those be yer arms?" Foxy wondered. "I thought they be yer ears."
"Me too," Mike chimed in. Chica just laughed even harder, and Bonnie fumed silently. Still, Mike knew it would be best to defuse the situation quickly, and so he flipped through the pages until he found a more flattering drawing of the rabbit. "If it helps, Bonnie, this one's actually not so bad."
Bonnie took the new picture and stared at it for a little while, his aggravated expression slowly shifting into a more thoughtful, even tender look. "This is... kinda cute, actually," Bonnie admitted. Foxy reached for the picture with his good hand, but Bonnie slapped it away, clearly not done savoring what Mike had shown him.
"There should be other nice ones in here. Wanna dig through 'em?" Mike offered.
"Sounds fun."
"Pass 'em 'round, me hearty!"
"Don' keep us hangin'."
"Nah, I'm good."
At the four responses, Mike slid the folder into the center of the table, and the group eagerly began pulling drawings from it. It wasn't long before everybody was laughing at the many, many depictions of the four robots. They learned pretty quickly that Caleb, whoever he was, was far from the worst artist of the bunch. None of the four animatronics were safe from the group's heckling, not even Freddy, but none of them could really get angry about it; it was all in good fun, after all, and it would hypocritical for any of them to hold a grudge when they were laughing along too.
"Oh, God! Guys, look at this one!" Mike thrust out a paper with fervent energy. Bonnie grabbed it, and the other animatronics crowded around him.
"Oi, that be Chica, aye?" Foxy asked, cocking his head.
"Yeah," Bonnie replied. "And that's – Oh, God, is that... is that Freddy?!"
"Ohhhhh, yes." Mike purred.
"Why? What's happening?" Chica demanded. Bonnie bent his arm back over his shoulder to hand Chica the paper, flashing the biggest grin any of the robots had ever seen him with. Chica took it and after a full five seconds of staring at it did the wildest full-body take Mike had ever seen. "B-b-b-b- what is this?! What are we doing?!" The chick shrieked, sending Bonnie into hysterics.
"Lemme see. 'S got me innit, right?" Freddy plucked the page from the frozen Chica's hand, and after one glance threw it back on the table as though it was on fire. He turned to stare at Mike with scarred eyes. "Mike, listen t' me. You take that there paper home wit' ya, and you burn it t' ashes, y' hear me? Ashes."
Mike, Bonnie, and Foxy all collapsed with laughter.
"I think that's the last of 'em," Mike sighed at last, tossing the final drawing back into the folder. "You guys enjoying your portraits?"
"Shhh, you're distracting us," Chica shushed the human offhandedly, not even looking away from her drawing. Amusingly, the other three animatronics were each looking at other drawings in the same enraptured way. Apparently, they'd all grown quite attached to Mike's gift, and each of them had found a favorite picture of themselves to enjoy. Honestly, Mike thought it was comical, not that he would say it out loud... right then.
He was about to close the folder when something else caught his eye. It was a drawing that he didn't immediately recognize; he must have passed over it without paying it much attention. And yet something about it was... familiar. Not that it was good, per se. It was a drawing of two figures; one of them was a small orange stick figure with a simple smiley face, and the other was a large brown blob with stumpy arms and legs, as well as an animalistic head and what appeared to be some kind of hat.
Mike squinted at the picture. Something about it was tickling the back of his mind... but what was it?
He flipped the picture over, and on the back was only one word.
But the instant the guard read it, everything fell into place.
MIKEY.
Mike flipped the paper back over and stared at it in horror and revulsion. "Oh God," he groaned.
"Lemme see," Bonnie responded, snatching the paper out of Mike's hands without even looking at him. The rabbit took a long, hard look at the picture... and then wordlessly handed it off to Foxy.
Who handed it to Chica.
Who handed it to Freddy.
Who stared oddly at it. "...So, uh, what d' y'all reckon this is s'pposed t' be here?"
"Aye, look upon th' back," Foxy spoke up. "It seems there be a-"
"A name," Mike finished, burying his face in his hands. "Just look and get it over with."
Perplexed, Freddy turned the page over and recited out loud the name written upon it.
"Mikey."
As if they were puppets dancing upon the same string, all four animatronics turned to stare at the night guard, who by this point was looking up at them in nervous anxiety. Unfortunately, Mike just couldn't catch a break, because all four of his friends collapsed as one into hysterical laughter. Foxy fell to his knees, Bonnie started smacking the table, and Chica doubled over entirely. Even Freddy couldn't hide his chuckles.
"Okay, forget that other picture of Bonnie, THIS is the greatest thing ever!" Chica gasped.
"Oh, hell yes!" Bonnie agreed loudly. "Seriously, Mike, how old were you when you drew this thing? Two?"
Mike opened his mouth to snap back immediately, but waited just long enough so that he wound up stopping to think about it first. How old had he been? Not very, he knew that much. He definitely couldn't have been older than seven; he'd been about seven years old the last time he'd set foot in Freddy Fazbear's as a customer. So he was probably...
"Around five... I think," Mike replied at last.
By that point, Freddy had finished laughing, and the other three were starting to die down. "A'ight, settle down, y'all. That's enough laughin' fer now." The bear turned his attention back to Mike. "But I gotta ask. Who's th' fella here? Me?"
Mike racked his brain for a moment. "Actually, if my memory serves... I think it was Foxy."
Foxy perked at the sound of his name. "Me? Well, I be flattered, me hearty, but I don' think ye were really usin' yer eyes back then."
"Tactless as he may be, he's got a point," Chica added. "No offense, Mike, but this looks nothing like Foxy."
Mike shrugged. "Yeah, well, I never actually had seen him when I created that." Upon seeing the animatronics confused looks, he elaborated. "Look, when Foxy committed the- when he was locked up in Pirate's Cove-" Mike began, then backpedaled. He remembered how Freddy had told him that Foxy bore no memories of the Bite, and he really didn't want to aggravate a giant metal fox with a hook hand. As it was, Foxy was already looking peeved. "-I hadn't even been born yet – it was three years after that. So by the time I drew this, he'd already been... 'gone' for eight years.
"But there used to be something of a tradition for the kids around here. You weren't really a cool kid until you had a birthday at Freddy's. It was kind of a rite of passage thing. So I was coming here a few times a year or so to celebrate birthdays – my friends' and my own – and I started hearing rumors running through the grapevine about a fourth animatronic – a 'pirate fox,' or so they said." Foxy looked surprised at the news. Had the kids really remembered him after so long?
"And seriously, a pirate fox?" Mike continued. "I would've given up my right arm to see that back then. So even though I had nothing to go on but some second and thirdhand info, I drew that picture." Mike finished his story with a soft chuckle. "I know it's corny, but even back then Foxy was kind of my favorite."
Mike watched as the animatronics just stared at him with thoughtful gazes. Truthfully, even he was surprised at where all that had come from. It'd been almost twenty years since those days, and yet he remembered them, and the emotions they stirred up in him, so vividly.
And then, to Mike's (and, he imagined, the others') surprise, Foxy let out a soft whimper and wrapped his arms around him in a tight but careful hug. Mike yelped audibly in surprise and tried to wriggle free, but the pirate wasn't letting go. "Foxy, what are you-"
"Mike, yer th' first person ta call me yer favorite in years," Foxy whispered. "Thank ye. Ye don' know just how much that means ta me."
At those words, Mike ceased his struggle and allowed the fox to embrace him. In the back of his mind Mike could recall something Freddy had told him not long ago.
He loved th' kids, Mike, and 's been some twenty-odd years since he's been out o' his cove to see any of 'em. He likes ya, boy, and believe it or not yer the kind o' guy he needs. Someone who'll put up with 'im and his tomfoolery and jus', well, be his friend. 'Cause Lord knows he needs a friend.
Had Foxy really been hurting this much? Mike hadn't really said anything special, or so he thought, and yet Foxy was reacting so strongly to it... Was this what Freddy had meant?
Mike patted the fox on his hard, metal shoulder. "Hey, don't get all weepy on me, man," Mike teased the fox gently. "It was nothing."
Foxy whined softly and kept holding on. Mike just smiled and allowed him to.
