I can't believe I actually got this update out on time; a lot of school stuff happened in the last couple weeks. But I'm certainly glad I did, because I think most of you are going to enjoy this particular chapter. The trade-off is that it may not be quite as polished as usual, so please point out any typos you see. Just a couple other things to get out of the way.
Firstly, after giving it some consideration, I decided to change ASaF's genres from Mystery/Horror to Mystery/Supernatural. While there is some scary stuff going on, the supernatural element is played up more, so I switched it. Although I actually think this story could be classified as many different genres, so make of that what you will.
Second, ASaF has gotten over a hundred follows. Wow. I never thought that so many people would be invested in my work, let alone on my very first story. Therefore, whether you donated a follow, favorite, both, or are simply passing through, thank you. You guys are the reasons I can look back on the last eight months and not see a gigantic waste of time. I'm honored.
With that sappiness out of the way, read on! And as always, follows, favorites and reviews are greatly appreciated. I also have another question for you this week; do you guys have any suggestions about how I write "night" chapters? Those were the weakest parts of the story so far, in my opinion, but it seems other authors generally either skip them or go into way too much detail. Suggestions are welcome.
Saturday, June 3, 9:10 PM
Though fatigue began to ensnare him, Mike persisted across the forest, a trembling dread anchored in the recesses of his mind. He'd managed to disarm many of his earlier fears – hunters didn't venture so deep into the woods at night, and it was doubtful any wildlife would attack her. Nevertheless, the idea that she might disappear forever provided more than enough motivation for him to continue down her well-defined path. It'd only been ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours had passed.
Too bad it's so dark.
Indeed, thick clouds blanketed the sky, only permitting slim beams of light through. He would have been doomed without a decent flashlight.
Inspecting the ground, Foxy's footprints veered sharply rightward. That was one upside; since nothing on Earth had feet like hers, she didn't take a bloodhound to track. Quickening his pace, he dodged around stones and gnarled tree roots, struggling between wasting time and burning out. I hope she knows how stupid this is! He expected her to take the news poorly, but running off into the wilderness?
Then again, it must have been the most heartbreaking thing she'd ever heard; her only friend would die, leaving her alone to mourn. When you put it like that… The scenery abruptly changed, grabbing his attention. Dense, hardy trees gave way to long grass on a relatively flat section of mountain. The flashlight couldn't illuminate very far, but Mike suspected it went on for quite a while.
A few weeks ago, being alone in a dark forest at night would have scared him senseless. Compared with everything else he'd dealt with, though, it was laughably docile. Fortunately, the tightly-packed soil still held Foxy's impressions. Thank God she weighs several hundred pounds.
Suddenly, he heard a noise from up ahead, making him freeze. It was deep, heavy breathing.
Not yet wanting to alert her of his presence, he switched off the flashlight, leaving an aphotic void. She probably wouldn't flee if he got to her first.
…
What the Hell is he doing?
Several dozen feet away, she could clearly hear Mike attempting to sneak up on her. And it might have worked – if she wasn't a fox. Since she was, though, it had as much effectiveness as digging up buried treasure without a shovel.
"You don't have to do that."
"All right, you got me." He flipped on his light and walked over to her, sitting on a small rocky outcropping.
"May I join you?" he asked, trying to remain amiable even after being led on a wild goose chase.
"Of course." He sat next to her, looking exhausted. The bags under his eyes, glazed-over expression, bruises on his arms and face accrued from close-calls with Freddy. She hadn't paid much attention to them before, but here, miles from the nearest human, they seemed almost crushing. How could he go through that again? Why? Before she knew it, she'd already wrapped her arms around Mike and sobbed, unable to bear the truth. It was inappropriate for a pirate to do so, but she didn't care. She would have lashed out and chastised him for his idiocy, but he must not have had a choice in the matter.
She expected him to push her away, but to her great surprise, he started crying as well. For a few minutes, the lonesome forest was dominated by the two of them, holding each other and lamenting the world's cruelty. Eventually, she let go, wiping her tears away with her hand, staining the fur a deep, oily black.
Quivering with fear and rage, she said, "I'm sorry I ran away, but I'm… angry. That you might not come back." Mike rubbed his nose and looked at her with puffy eyes. "But you came after me anyway." Without warning, she heaved a few more times before pulling herself together.
"I wasn't about to give up on you so easily," he replied, managing a hint of humor.
"Everyone else would have." His small smile faltered, and he stared at the ground. Despite the misery she endured, the strange feeling in her gut returned. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder, intertwine their hands, if not for the fact he'd be uncomfortable with it. Truthfully, she would be, too.
What is this? Why is it happening? Normally, she loved being a corsair, but for once yearned to have memories of something else, something to tell her what was going on.
Needing a way out, she asked a question with an obvious answer. "Auric did this?"
His stare deepened. "Yes. You – you know Auric?"
She leaned farther back against the stone, closing her eye. "Not really. He's the one who steals my body during your shifts. He isn't human, he's evil and he's obsessed with 'winning'. That's all I know, from tiny snippets of his mind I sometimes see while he's controlling me."
"I guess we're on the same page, then." A soft wind picked up, gently stroking her fur. She briefly imagined it was Mike. "Good. I mean, I'm glad you're at least aware of him."
"Yeah." She inhaled deeply, willing herself not to cry again. Keep it together, Foxy. You're a pirate, damn it. "And he said he'd kill you if you didn't go back?" That was the only plausible explanation.
For a brief moment, the only sound was that of rustling leaves. "Right. He'll kill me if I don't 'rematch' him. Couldn't accept losing." His voice trembled, which she chalked up to fear and grief.
"I am so, so sorry Mike. About everything." She opened her eye to look at him, standing out against the darkness. "It's just that I don't want you to die. I don't want to kill you."
"Neither do I." He grabbed the flashlight and stood up. "Now we should go; it'll be lucky if we get back before ten."
9:51 PM
They were close now. The trees and rocks began contorting into familiar shapes. Even in near-total blackness, Mike could tell his house was only minutes away. Sleep… tired. Indeed, he'd nearly fallen from sheer exhaustion several times.
"I think I can smell your car from here," Foxy said, walking alongside him. Though she spent the first half-hour of their trek relentlessly apologizing, she began to lighten up a bit the farther along they went, even smiling a few times. He, on the other hand, still felt awful. Not from her actions, though they certainly didn't help. Because he had to lie.
It was her life on the line, not his. She deserved to know. Old habits die hard, though, and he once again found himself unable to come clean. If he did, he seriously feared she might try to kill herself so he could be safe. He wouldn't risk it. The last thing he wanted in his life was more death.
I guess that doesn't matter right now. A couple more steps forward and a faint glow appeared – the porch light. At least the evening had been a great workout; not many people spent their Saturday nights mountain climbing. This'll hurt in the morning.
Heavily panting, they reached the front door, which he forgot to close in his hastiness. From within, he heard skittering paws on wood, and cringed for being so idiotic. Shit, there's probably a whole raccoon family. Must have smelled the food.
Confirming his assumption, Foxy said, "I can smell animals inside. Maybe eating those mini burritos."
"Fuck," he mumbled under his breath. They wouldn't be easy to remove. He'd need to call Orkin or something. Yet another problem. Why were things so difficult?
"Actually…" A spark of craftiness crossed her face.
"What?"
"I might have an idea."
…
"That was easy," Mike said as the last squirrel scampered outside. Finally, a dilemma that resolved itself! While he would have preferred it to be a larger one, complaining was absurd.
"Told you I could be a vicious predator."
"You weren't vicious, you just walked in." Sure enough, the second Foxy breached the front door, a dozen small forest creatures fled in terror from one of their natural enemies. Even though she clearly wasn't a regular, quadrupedal fox, she must have smelled somewhat like one to have frightened them off so quickly.
"But, um, thank you. If you hadn't done that, I would have needed to get an exterminator." She shrugged. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was after ten, and another surge of enervation slammed into him. "Look, I'm really tired. Do you need to go back to Fazbear's tonight or can you stay?"
She stared at him in surprise. "After all the trouble I've caused, you'd offer that?" Not entirely comprehending her, he nodded. "Well… sure. Thank you!" Before he knew it, she'd already wrapped him in another embrace.
Again? Mike wasn't opposed to friendly hugs or anything, but this was different. Much like earlier, back in the forest, it had a certain…element. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what, but it made him a little uncomfortable. "Foxy, please stop."
"Oh, sorry," she said, pulling back. A look of guilt crossed her muzzle.
"It's OK, just ask next time," he replied, too tired to say much else. Still, he couldn't fault her for not understanding personal space. If he spent years alone, he'd relish all the physical contact he could get.
"So where should I sleep?"
"Sylvia's room is right across the hall from mine. Try there." Shambling off to bed, he simply collapsed on the mattress, not bothering to undress. He was out in seconds.
Sunday, June 4, 7:22 AM
Slowly awakening, Foxy sat up, careful not to tear the sheets with her hook or claws. Oh, I needed that. Having never slept on a real bed before, she was unprepared for what luscious comfort awaited her. I hope I'll still be able to sleep on my curtain pile.
Yawning, she rose and gave Sylvia's room a good look around. It was very… feminine, she supposed, but not without its highlights. All the purple and pink especially turned her off – brown was far more practical. However, there were some cool, surreal posters, including a particularly interesting one of a rainbow and triangle on a black background. She had absolutely no idea what it meant, but hey, art was art.
Stepping out of the room, she peeked into Mike's. There he was, hibernating like a log atop his covers. He deserves rest. What to do, though? He probably wouldn't wake for hours, and there was little of interest for her without him around. Hmm… She was certainly used to doing nothing for hours on end, but desired more insight on what humans did during their free time. She'd poke around a little.
Taking a couple more paces down the hall, she began looking at some framed photos. A few particularly grabbed her attention. One was of Mike as a small child playing in the bathtub, which made her snicker. Age wasn't something she grasped too well, considering she didn't experience it. Thirteen years hadn't changed her a day. Not physically, at least. Most of the time, it didn't bother her; she didn't need to worry about her clothes not fitting or anything.
For once, though, she felt a pang of envy. She was "born" as an adult, albeit a very naive one. That meant she never got to have a childhood; even in her false memories, recollections of her youth were very rare. It was mostly buccaneer stuff. Deadly monsters, mountains of gemstones, lots of rum. They weren't bad memories… but they weren't real, or even helpful. She could only learn about life as she went. Like everyone else.
There were some other neat shots as well, from vacations to parties to graduations. Once again, things Foxy would never experience, only hear about from people chatting in another world, feet away. She arrived at the end, more depressed than usual. Mike was a great person, but he couldn't fix all her problems. No one could. The most he could do was be there for her, a task he performed admirably.
Sighing, she spotted one more photo, farther down and larger than the rest. It was of a man and a woman, both elegantly dressed, locked in a deep kiss. Looks like Mike's parents. They'd been in some of the other photos, much older than the youthful couple pictured. A small plaque was affixed to the frame's bottom.
Jacklyn and Oliver Schmidt, just married – 1976
Foxy couldn't explain why, but something about the image seemed so right. Maybe because both of them deeply trusted one another, enough to be intimate. I know there's a word for that. She stared at the scene for a while more, trying to recall the elusive term. Eventually, she walked into Mike's parlor and flopped down on the sofa, not satisfied. Tossing and turning, she struggled to remember; for some reason, it felt important.
Love.
The word was a gong, reverberating through her mind. Why was that little word so difficult to recall? Perhaps because there were few people she felt it toward. Love. It came back to her. She didn't entirely grasp it, being so isolated; getting along with and respecting others, she supposed. That was her relationship with Bonnie, Chica and, most of the time, Freddy. Still, that was a very different kind of love than the one in the photo.
There's something else. The image with Mike's parents differed. There was much more to it than that. There was… romantic attraction.
Yes! I remember! She shot up, still unsure of why this suddenly became valuable. From her mind's deepest reaches, a few ancient visions returned to her, of her parents, how they used to look at each other, the way they spoke. Though she understood her real mother and father were assembly lines, the memories became as vivid as life.
After days of questioning, those foreign feelings about Mike suddenly became clear. It's because I love him. Oh.
Foxy took several seconds to process that thought. That means… Her body and mind locked up – even her heart stopped for a moment. "Shit."
10:31 AM
Man, I feel good! Mike turned off the shower and began to dry himself, strangely hopeful about the forthcoming day, including "the rematch". Once again, his sleep that night had been peaceful and pleasant; Auric was apparently cutting him some slack. Really thinking about that, it was actually more frightening than – nope, I'm not doing this today. There would be plenty of reasons to worry later. For the time being, he would try to behave rationally.
Viewing himself in the mirror, he gave the reflection a thumbs-up. True, he had amassed plenty of cuts and bruises from his first week of work, with many more on the way, yet it could have been worse. All in all, he wasn't in bad condition, although, as suspected, his legs ached like crazy. Then something else caught his attention.
The wound on his chest where Foxy sliced him was completely scarred over. The last stitches had fallen out while showering, leaving a line of fibrous tissue in its wake. With everything else going on, he'd completely forgotten. Doesn't seem too bad, actually.
Finally putting some clothes on, he went over to Sylvia's room and checked inside. Foxy wasn't there, only a few molted strands of reddish fur. Hope she found something to eat. Going out to the foyer, he saw her sitting at the table with a tin of sardines. Not what I expected, but I didn't want them anyway.
"How'd you sleep?"
"Fine, thanks," she muttered, throwing the can down.
Um, what? It wasn't like her to be upset over such an innocuous question. Maybe she's still upset about yesterday. If she didn't want to talk, whatever. Even with the previous night's events, he still had a reasonably good time.
Taking her cue, he remained quiet, opening the pantry and fishing out some tasty Fruit Loops. For a little while, they rested next to each other, eating in general silence. The only unusual thing, beyond her being a humanoid vixen, of course, was the smell of pickled fish combined with sugary breakfast cereal. It was pretty disgusting, but Foxy didn't seem to mind in the slightest.
Speaking of which, besides not saying anything, she kept stealing flustered glances at him throughout their meal, thoroughly weirding him out. It seemed like she wanted to say something, but was too shy. Also odd. Normally she was disinclined to beat around the bush, unlike him.
Finishing up, Mike placed his bowl in the sink to clean later. They hadn't made eye contact once. He grew concerned; this wasn't ordinary. "Are you feeling all right?"
"What?!" she snapped, making him flinch. "I – I mean yes. I'm OK." No, she clearly wasn't.
"Look, I'm not trying to be rude, but if there's something you wanted to tell me last night, you can tell me now."
"Really, I'm fine. It's just…" she looked away for a second, "I'm terrified about tonight. You must be, too." He went back over to his chair and sat.
"Yeah, I guess. It's not as bad as I thought, but still pretty bad." Resting his chin on the table, he sighed. "Promise me you won't, um, blame yourself if I die."
For a minute, Foxy said nothing. "Only if you swear to not hesitate to kill me."
Wow, he didn't expect to hear that. "But –"
"Don't argue about this! If I – Auric using my body, anyway – try to hurt you, hurt me right back. You're in good shape; if you focus, I think you have a chance." As much as she tried to hide the waver in her voice, some came through. Enough to know he might have made the wrong choice.
"All right. I swear. And I'm also sorry. Uh, if I didn't wander into your cove after my first night, none of this shit would have happened. You wouldn't agonize over everything."
"No," she stated adamantly, "these past couple weeks have been the best of my life. There's no comparison." With difficulty, she managed a smile. Though it should have unnerved him with her metal shark-like teeth and all, he actually found her smile rather charming. It was completely unique and worn confidently. "So thank you. For the first time, I have something to live for. And I won't blame myself."
Thank God. After that incredibly depressing discussion, Mike sat around for a while and moped. So much for not worrying. As he drifted between gloom and fear, Foxy still peeked at him nervously, apparently holding concerns of her own. Damn, there was no escape. Everywhere he turned, there was more danger, more lies, more desperation.
She should go; not much purpose for her being here if all we're going to do is worry. "What do you think about heading back?"
"Probably a good idea."
3:18 PM
Several hours passed since Foxy had gone back to Fazbear's, but she couldn't stop the uneasiness or terror. All she could do was release her nervous energy by pacing in the dark. Around and around the room again, hundreds of times, futilely attempting to unleash years of pent-up negativity. While striding along this endless path, she could only think about one specific thing; how absolutely moronic she'd been.
"Shit!" she shouted as loudly as she could get away with. "This can't be happening!" Entire seas of raw emotion collided at the center of her soul: shock, horror, shame, rage, and even a bit of curiosity. She had no idea how to handle it.
I'm in love with a human. This is insane! It's… is it horrible? Probably. With her limited knowledge of the real world, she tried to convince herself it could never work. They were different species, had divergent interests, lived in separate worlds. These were all enormous, legitimate problems. But no matter what she thought or said, a part of her refused to listen.
Mostly, though, she was completely ashamed. Fuck me. Mike's a remarkable guy. Even if I was human, he deserves someone better than a murderer! She lashed out at a rotting plank of wood, stomping it into sawdust. Just the fact he considered her a friend made him special. It would have been a complete backstab to think of him as anything more.
There was no way Mike could possibly reciprocate such feelings. No sane human could. Even without her past, she was a robot. A robot that looked like an animal, no less! That was robophilia! Zoophilia! These words didn't mean much to her, considering she lacked a frame of reference for them, but they would to him. The only humans who could possibly find her attractive were perverted deviants, which Mike certainly wasn't. Despite his kindness, telling the truth would drive him away. She hated lying to him, but she didn't want him to leave! Without him, her life meant nothing!
Beginning to grow weary of these warring sentiments, Foxy concentrated on something she knew for certain; Mike needed her help. Unfortunately, there was only one route she could recognize, and she was too cowardly to travel it. "If I really cared about him, I'd slit my own throat. He'd have one less monster to fear." It was a fiendish strategy game, a test of what truly mattered. In the end, apparently her own life was worth more than Mike's.
She growled in anger and slashed the air a few times. "Auric," she whispered to the empty room, "I know you can hear me." No response. "We've never talked before, but we need to. About Mike." The entity refused to answer. "Fuck you, then."
There was nothing else to do beyond pace; if she was lucky, her legs might eventually give out. That'd give Mike an advantage. She thought back to what he'd said earlier, about it being better if he never came into her life. Though vehemently disagreeing with him at the moment, she began to understand more and more what he meant. Maybe it would have been better to remain a brooding hermit than experience things like friendship, acceptance and even love, only to have them snatched away.
Fuck this, I'm going to sleep, she thought, walking toward her alcove. A couple more hours of rest might have put her mind at ease, though she doubted it. Fazbear's can go to Hell.
4:37 PM
Mike wandered about his house, laboring to make sure he was ready for the long night. Many hours lay ahead of him, but if he learned anything from his first week, it was to get shit done. There was always a sense that he'd forgotten to check a crucial camera or was otherwise in immediate danger. One way to alleviate that was triple or quadruple checking his possessions; he supposed he should have been grateful Phil let him bring a bag. People must have smuggled firearms in at some point.
Well, the animatronics are made of metal. Regular bullets couldn't hurt them that much. Even if there wasn't a waiting period in Washington, he doubted he would have purchased one. If a situation there ever required a gun, he was already doomed.
Going to his room, he brought his uniform out of the closet. Looks like I'll be needing you again. There it was, complete with a few bloodstains and the slapdash stitches he made after Foxy sliced him. There should be a couple of images on here, not just the bland text… fuck it, why do I care?
Whatever, it looked clean enough to wear. After that, he assembled more of his normal inventory, such as snacks, books and the all-important coffee thermos. However, he also decided there were some extra items he'd do well to have, most notably a flashlight. That way it'd be easier to peer down the long, dark hallways without exposing himself. For a less ominous atmosphere, he flipped on the television; it made him more confident when others were having a normal conversation in the background.
And how could he not be scared? Against his wishes, despair's long, slimy tentacles began to wrap themselves around his brain, dragging it into the abyss. Maybe it wouldn't be awful as before, yet there was only so much a mind could endure before shattering. Any sound, sight or scare might push him over sanity's edge, leaving a broken husk.
At least that was how it happened in the movies.
Only then did he notice he had started to tremble slightly. I need a break. Most of his stuff was already together, so a little rest wouldn't hurt. Unfortunately, the wait was nearly as bad as the night itself. Actually doing something wasn't worth the risk of getting tired, and doing nothing only heightened his fear. So he put that on hold as well.
Moving to the couch, he decided to think for a while. He'd always considered himself more philosophical than most of his peers, but by that point there was no comparison. Issues of life and death, good and evil, Heaven and Hell all slithered and twisted through his psyche's cracks. In a way, he considered himself privileged to ponder these things at an age when most people were more interested in grades or socializing. But it was also quite a burden, as those insights sprang from a keen familiarity with mortality.
The inclusion of sentient machines into the mix didn't exactly help, either. Granted, it was incredible that he was one of the few people on Earth to know about them, but they had really screwed up his perception of even simple things, like life and time. I really wish I was old enough to buy alcohol at the gas station. He'd only been drunk a couple of times before but really wished he was now. It might have been easier to make sense of these things that way. Or maybe I'd need marijuana for that.
…
As Foxy opened her eye, she could tell something was amiss. It was far too bright; in fact, she had turned the bulbs off, but a spotlight seemed to burn itself through her cornea. Sitting up, she discovered the problem. She wasn't in her Cove at all, but rather an endless field of white, stretching out for eternity.
It was also quite cold, though her fur fortunately protected her from the worst of that.
"What a weird dream," she mumbled under her breath. They almost invariably involved fighting monsters or exploring new lands. Diversity was good, of course, but this was about the least exciting a delusion could be.
"You are the one who wanted to see me." The raspy voice brought with it an influx of static, like droning rain.
"Who's there?" It came from all space, even beneath her feet, making locating its source impossible.
"Behind you." She whirled around, and her vision took a moment to lock onto the figure, several dozen feet away, partially veiled behind a curtain of golden mist. Not afraid of a simple dream, she tried to walk toward it, but couldn't make any progress. For every step she took, it floated another away. Either that or she simply couldn't move. "I think this is a good distance to speak from."
OK, now this was getting creepy. No one in her dreams spoke with such malice or hatred; there was enough of that in real life. "Who are you?"
"Ah, 'Foxy'," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "I assumed you would know me better after we'd shared so many years."
Wait… Like a punch to the face, it hit her. "Auric!"
He smiled, and his shrouded eyes burned, whether with amusement or hatred or curiosity she couldn't say. "What did you wish to discuss?"
Foxy hadn't expected him to heed her call; it was supposed to be more cathartic than anything else. But now that he actually was present, a burning hatred overwhelmed her mind. Able to move again, she barreled toward him while he simply stood grinning. As she swung her hook through his head, he dissolved into smoke.
That little shit! She was finally face to face with the thing that used her body to attack or kill so many, including the only person who ever cared about her, and she wasn't able to lay a hand on him! If she could, she'd have torn him limb from limb.
"I'm waiting." Turning around again, she spotted him against the same endless plain. It was clear she couldn't harm him. Disgusted as it made her, negotiation might have been worth a shot.
Cutting to the chase, before she changed her mind, she said, "I want Mike to be safe. I'll do anything."
For a second, he actually appeared puzzled, a distinct look of confusion on his distant, ill-defined face. "Now why would… oh, I'd almost forgotten." He grinned. "You have feelings for him. How foolish of me."
Her face grew hot, and the static seemed to shrink a bit. "That's none of your damn business."
"No, it certainly isn't. Apologies. But I'm afraid we had a deal, and I'm not the sort to lightly renege on agreements. Besides, you have nothing to offer me."
Though stung by the implied insult, it was completely true. There was nothing she possessed or could do that Auric was unable to personally take care of. Though she contemplated groveling at his feet, begging for him to reconsider, she wasn't so desperate as to prostrate herself before the monster who tried to kill Mike. "Fuck you," she growled.
"You should be grateful. Not many would risk their own lives for another, especially not an animate amalgamation of metal and plastic."
Instantly, the gears in her head jammed. "What are you talking about?! Mike is doing this because you're a bratty bastard, threw a temper tantrum, and said you'd kill him if he didn't play again!" Her anger resurged, and she charged him, only to be met with the same result as before.
"Oh, that is interesting," he said after recorporealizing, a mixture of amusement and rancor in his sizzling voice. She twisted to see that he was far closer, so much so that she flinched from shock. "I think we're done here. It was a pleasure to introduce myself. I expect we won't speak again for quite a while – if ever."
A hole opened beneath her, and she fell.
10:20 PM
Under the warm night sky, Mike drove his trusty car through the dark mountain forest, much like during his first week on the job. However, there were some key differences this time around.
Firstly, the radio now worked, much to his enjoyment. He'd taken music for granted before, but had come to realize nothing was quite as invigorating as speeding seventy miles per hour down an unlit road while blasting Nirvana out open windows.
Before he even saw it through the darkness, Mike prepared for the hard-left turn, gently pressing the breaks. Don't want to die out here. At least not yet. That was another change; the drive wasn't particularly complicated before, but after a dozen trips, he knew it like the back of his hand. Therefore, he didn't have to concentrate so much on the spooky environments, letting local grunge rhythms pound around his skull. There were few better examples of good psyche-up music.
A couple minutes later, a small light began to penetrate the woods ahead, and he slowed down. Fazbear's emerged in all its prosaic glory. With a partially-burnt-out neon sign, fractured parking lot and tacky paintjob, it nearly looked abandoned. As much as he hated the place, it really should have been nicer, considering how many people were always there. Well, if I got paid two-thousand dollars for a week, I can't imagine how much everyone else here makes. Plus, Phil seemed too fucking stupid to effectively allocate his money.
Pulling onto the broken asphalt, he drove to his usual spot near Pirate Cove. Speaking of which… He'd decided not to pay Foxy a visit that night, considering how things had gone earlier. What could they even say to each other? "I hope you don't kill me"? "Try not to die"? If he wasn't going to make it to the next morning, he didn't want their last conversation to be something so awkward. Hopefully, though, they'd get to speak again.
This needs to be the right choice. With a sigh, Mike walked toward the front doors, his shadows stretching and contracting relative to each overhead light. Upon reaching the entrance, he took a deep breath, wiped his forehead, and marched inside, regretting being there so early. The first thing he noticed was that there were more workers there than usual, probably because it wasn't that close to midnight.
All right, they'll just ignore me, so I can walk right on past –
"Hey, night guard!" one of the thugs shouted. He had a large Chinese character tattooed on his bicep in red ink, which made Mike think he was trying to seem classy or mystical. It didn't work.
Please no. "Uh, yeah?" He jittered slightly, just wanting to get out of the room before Freddy saw him. Too late. Sitting on stage with a slice of pizza in hand, the bear glared at him, but otherwise seemed more interested in eating. Well, they don't get lunch breaks.
"We took bets on which day of the week you'd drop. So if you die, be a pal and try to do it on Wednesday." That sent them into an uproar, with some even clutching their stomachs.
More disgusted than angry, Mike wondered how these people were so callous about cold-blooded murder. He'd never wronged them; in fact, he was technically still a teenager. Out of the many things he never would have believed existed before he took this damn job, people who mocked someone as they were being sent off to die might have seemed more implausible than semi-organic machines.
Turning away, he locked eyes with Freddy again. From his expression, Mike knew his hatred had been supplanted by empathy, at least for a moment. Obviously, he was the butt of a lot of their jokes, if not far worse things. I guess it's a start. With many still incapacitated from laughter, Mike rushed to his office, wanting the night to begin right then and there.