Fantasy and Fun
With his finger twitching ever closer to the trigger, Mike refused to take his eyes off the fox. He was exhausted, scared, and angry. Every part of him, from his heart to his head, wanted to simply press down and send Foxy back to the ground.
For a reason that he didn't understand, however, Mike didn't shoot. Something was tugging in his mind; questions, theories, and demands. He wanted to know what the fox meant by the 'endoskeleton' and how it led to the situation they found themselves in.
"What do you mean?" Mike demanded, shaking his hand slightly from the grip of the pistol and gesturing with the gun, "What endoskeleton?"
For some time, the fox didn't answer him. Instead, he chose to examine the night guard, looking him over for what seemed like an eternity. It seemed that part of the fox was at odds with himself like he didn't quite know what to make of Mike.
What he had meant by the 'endoskeleton' simply raised questions and Mike wasn't sure he wanted the answers to them. For so long, he had demonized the animatronics, seeing them as mindless animals; monsters, whose sole purpose was to kill and terrorize.
At that point, things felt different. Like there was something more to the nine months of horror he'd experienced. The fear, anger, and hatred had been the driving force for Mike's decision to survive, to move on, and finally to seek revenge.
He didn't want to let go of that, but if there was something more to why the animatronics were hunting him…
"What am I?" Mike demanded once more, his own question confusing even him. He didn't know what there was to gain from it, but he felt like he needed to settle the strange things on his mind.
Foxy stared at him for some time, before answering casually, "Lad, ye be human. What, ya haven't looked in a mirror recently?"
That answered that, then. But the questions had only just begun.
"What is your goal?" He continued, never taking his eyes off the animatronic fox, "What are your intentions with me?"
"Well, I be seekin' a way out o' the brig, for one," Foxy explained like he was talking to a co-worker by a water cooler, "This place be my home for some time, now, but I be the adventurous sort, savvy? As for ya, lad, I be wondering who ye are."
Although he'd answered the question, Mike was understandably not convinced. "What do you mean by the 'endoskeleton'?" He asked one more time.
"Yar, well, ya see, lad," Foxy explained, either fearless or ignorant, "There be a landlubber runnin' round these halls…erm, well, nekked as the day they be born?"
"Uh huh," Mike mumbled, relatively sure of what the fox meant, "And how did that lead to you trying to break into the security office?"
"Well, lad, the endo be hidin' in the crow's nest!" A smile crept into the fox's eyes as he shook his head, "The scallywags be breakin' the rules!" His smile changed into a thoughtful look, "Though Ol' Foxy never believed in rules; more like guidelines, in me opinion."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Mike scowled, "There wasn't an 'endo' here at all. Only robot that's been here recently is you."
"They be here, lad!" Foxy exclaimed, not understanding where Mike was going, "How do ya think I got gunpowder in me shin, eye, and chest?!" Foxy winked—or blinked, Mike wasn't able to tell—and continued, "Though I admit it be a bit strange tha' they had a Flintlock. They never be fightin' before…"
It all came to Mike and he felt like he could scream. How could he not see it before? Nine months ago, during his first night. The 'official' answer for why he was being hunted. "The only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any," The guy on the phone and the closest thing to a mentor Mike had once said, "is the fact that these characters, uhh, if they happen to see you after hours, probably won't recognize you as a person."
"Th-They'll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on."
Unlikely, he had reflected over the course of the months afterward. It was the official explanation, after all, and Fazbear Entertainment lied. They always had. Practically invented it. So how was Mike to expect that the one thing that seemed like the biggest lie out of all of them would somehow be the truth?
His scowl turned to a look of rage. "Sorry to break it to you, pal," He said hoarsely, "but I'm the guy who shot you."
It was a surprise that an animatronic could snort, but snort Foxy did. "Ye be crazier than me, lad!" He laughed, "Ye be a human! Nightguard, if me be guessin' correctly."
"I am," Mike sliced through, making Foxy recoil slightly, "So I'd like to know why you bunch of scrap heaps have been trying to kill me!" His voice raised, his fury unable to coil itself any longer.
Stepping back with his jaw opening slightly, giving him a comical look, Foxy's eye went wide, "What are ya talking about, lad?!"
"You and your…your crew…have been hunting me down for the last damn week!" Mike roared, that anger and resentment coming back, "Trying to stuff me in a bear costume!"
"I swear, lad!" Foxy exclaimed, shocked by the anger in his long-awaited interaction with a human, "Me an' me mates never intended to hurt ya! I swear on me ship!"
"You tried it last year, too!" Mike pressed on, not allowing any false platitudes to continue, "Freddy almost killed me! I was seconds away from being stuffed!
With an ever-increasing edge of desperation and irritation, Foxy continued with his denials, "Honest, lad! We didn't mean it! We thought ye were somethin' else! An endo, runnin' around without its costume on! It was an honest mistake!"
"It wasn't an honest mistake." Mike cut in, his voice low and angry, "You think I'm the first? You've been doing this for god knows how long."
Foxy's face turned sour and that desperation left, replaced only by the irritation.
"Watch ye words, lad." He snarled, not wanting to take any more abuse from the night guard, "Ya going too far, now. Me an' me crew aren't perfect, but what ye're talkin' about is overboard."
"Don't talk to me about 'overboard'!" Mike responded, not intimidated in the slightest by the fox's rising anger, "Think about it! Every day of this week, you've seen me as an endoskeleton. Back in November, you saw me as an endoskeleton. Did ever once it cross your mind that this wasn't the case?"
Foxy didn't answer, but the confusion in his eye was still there, just clouded by an edge of fury; but Mike could see the doubt there as well. The fox's response to the accusation was natural and predictable, accused of something so cruel and foul that anyone would respond with resentment.
But Mike knew that he couldn't stop there. Even if the fox wasn't going to be a threat for the rest of the night, he still had the other three to deal with.
"Throughout this week, I've been insulting the four of you," He continued, "Rightfully so, I should add. I told you to break a leg. I flipped Chica off. I called Bonnie ugly. I mocked Freddy. I saw reactions from the lot of you that proved you felt something. Is this all true?"
Foxy simply gave a half-hearted yar, but failed to provide further input.
"Then before me," Mike pressed on, needing to validate his claims in the crazy world he had found himself in, "Every week. Some other 'endo' would be in this office and you would be hunting 'them'."
This time, Foxy didn't reply.
"And as you have found here, you were wrong the whole time about me being an endoskeleton?"
Something flashed in Foxy's eye; doubt, fear, or rejection? Mike couldn't tell.
"Is it so hard to accept that maybe you've been wrong before?" Mike said, quieter but with the same conviction.
Silence filled the gap, until Foxy started to shake his head.
"Lad," He mumbled just audible enough for Mike to hear, "What yer saying, it's…it's impossible."
No words spoken by him were going to convince the fox. Silently, Mike turned, stepped a bit to the side with his gun still aimed at the fox, and pressed the button on the machine on the desk.
"Wha' are ya doing?" Foxy asked,
Glancing back to him, Mike grimly responded, "Giving you a lesson in Fazbear history."
"Hello? Hello, hello?" The voice asked on the phone and Foxy's ears perked up slightly, "Uhh, I wanted to record a message for you... to help you get settled in on your first night."
"I know tha' voice…" Foxy mumbled as he continued to listen,
"Um, I actually worked in that office before you." The voice explained further, "I'm... finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact, so... I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you: there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine!"
Another corporate lie, Mike mused. They never seemed to end.
"So... let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?"
"Uh, let's see. First, there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Eh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know."
The voice cleared its' throat before continuing, "Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza: a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovery of damage or if death has occurred, a missing person's report will be filed within ninety days or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached and the carpets have been replaced.' Blah, blah, blah..."
With another step back and an open jaw, Foxy was clearly stunned by the graphic description.
"Now that might sound bad, I know. But there's really nothing to worry about."
Back during his first week at Freddy's, Mike's reaction had laid somewhere between denial and horror at what he was being told; these days, however, he instead was on the verge of snorting in contempt. He didn't know whether it was a purposeful choice to present the job as management had, or maybe they'd just presumed that the guy on the phone would have a better elevator pitch.
"Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No! If I were forced to sing... those same stupid songs for twenty years, and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So remember: these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children, and you need to show them a little respect. Right? Okay."
"Ol' Foxy loved those songs," Foxy mumbled, though he seemed to appreciate the love and care the talker had for the animatronics.
"So just be aware: the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uhh, they're left in some kind of "free-roaming mode" at night. Uhh... something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long."
"Me leg's never been the same…" Foxy explained mournfully, though Mike wasn't sure who it was he was talking to.
"Uhh... they used to be allowed to walk around during the day, too, but then there was the Bite of '87." The phone guy had said that like it was meant to mean something, but Mike had been sure to research; Fazbear Entertainment had managed to cover it up quite well. "Yeah... I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"
Foxy hadn't reacted at all when the bite was mentioned, not even a twitch. For the longest time, Mike had presumed it had been the crazy pirate fox that had done the deed, but he wasn't too sure.
"Now concerning your safety: the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uhh, if they happen to see you after hours, probably won't recognize you as a person."
A flash of recognition and a brief glance at Mike, Foxy didn't seem to have expected what Mike had said to be even remotely true, "Th-They'll most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now, since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to... forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit."
His jaw opened slightly and he stared at Mike. At first, the night guard was worried that the fox was about to attack, but instead, he chose to lower his head in dreadful thought.
"Um, now that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So you can imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort... and death."
With the vivid details and gross imagery being presented, Foxy had resorted to shaking his head. Mike could almost imagine him sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth and uttering faint, futile denials.
"Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh. ...Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up..."
"Because no one would notice or worry if a minimum-wage worker disappears," Mike bitterly spoke out loud, not knowing whether to blame the company itself or the society it thrived because of.
"But hey! First day should be a breeze; I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uhh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power."
"Alright. Goodnight."
As the message ended, an unearthly silence fell in to fill the gaps. Mike stood there, refusing to take his eyes or sight off the fox, his finger never leaving the trigger; as for Foxy himself, he stood there, blank and empty.
For some time, Foxy never moved, contemplating the information given to him. Mike almost considered stepping closer and prodding him; just a light tap, to see if he was even still functioning. He decided against it and finally spoke up.
"So," He said, venom in his voice, "that was the end of the first tape. Still unconvinced? There are another three tapes. The fourth tape is great fun; you get to hear the last thoughts of one of your…your victims."
Foxy still didn't move.
"Or who knows?" Mike continued, his voice starting to rise, "Maybe you've known all along? Maybe not consciously, but there were always details that…stuck out. The way they fought. The way they screamed. The way they cried."
Still not a word.
"Hell, you probably remember how they'd never work after you stuffed them. They'd break. Oil, you'd tell yourself. Nothing you could do."
The silence was starting to get on his nerves.
"Or maybe you did know? Maybe you're just pretending because never wanted to admit that you've been killing for the last five years?"
Finally, the rage came back. Mike gritted his teeth, eyes flared up, and his voice raised to a shout.
"God damn it!" He roared, angered further when Foxy didn't even flinch, "Say something, you murderous piece of junk! You're a monster! Each one of you! The day will come when you all end up in the scrap heap, and everyone will rejoice!"
"Say something!" Angry spittle flew out of his mouth, his rage finally getting the better of him, "Say something!"
Finally, the fox spoke.
"We…" He said, his voice small, "We were just following the rules. We didn't…we didn't mean to…"
To Mike's surprise, the fox started heaving, like it was having a panic attack. It backed up, scared and confused, before backing up against the wall.
A low, pathetic whine came from his mechanical jaws as he started to whimper.
"No, no, no…" The fox whimpered, sinking to the floor and shaking, "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"
A lack of words was an understatement for Mike. Not taking his eyes or his trigger finger off the fox, Mike took slow, deep breaths.
"What are you doing?" He demanded, but the fox had completely zoned out, mumbling under his breath.
Eventually, sobs took over from the mumbles, and Foxy hid his face in his hand and hook.
All the while, Mike stood there, not sure what to think. He certainly hadn't expected this reaction. In spite of everything the animatronics had done to him and how much he hated them, he wouldn't have been blamed if he didn't feel even a little sorry for him.
His eyes went soft, but became hard again as he looked away from the fox's mental breakdown. Even if his horror was genuine, it didn't erase the suffering he'd caused. This was just one small step towards justified and righteous retribution. For the first time in so long, the animatronics knew what it was like to have their power taken away from them—
—Mike's breath was instantly taken away from him when he remembered. Power.
He span around, his eyes wide and gaunt, to find his power level reading one, simple line that signified his oncoming doom.
1%.
"No." His words were painful and hollow, "No!"
0%.
A mechanical rev filled the pizzeria and he was plunged into darkness. He couldn't see anything around him. Seconds passed and his eyes adjusted and only feet away from him, he could see the tell-tale light of Foxy's one good eye.
Elsewhere in the pizzeria, Freddy and the others stood. They looked around as the lights came off and Freddy's smile emanated in his voice.
"Finally," He said, "Game over."
One chapter left in the first story arc. It's going to be a big one, so it might take another week or potentially two to get it done.
vaetta: I get that he's annoyed with them, but that's no excuse to be rude, does it? Good sportsmanship is a lost art.
See you all soon!