House of Fear

Scrambling for his flashlight, Mike switched it on and aimed in the fox's direction. He'd fallen for such an elaborate trap! He knew exactly what had happened; the whole thing had been an act. A distraction, so that Mike would lose his power and would finally get caught.

So many times, the animatronics had tried these tactics; misdirection and subterfuge were the best weapons. Playing fair simply wasn't in the dictionary for them, so they would use whatever advantages they had to catch their prey.

Mike had believed himself to be well-rehearsed on those tactics. He thought wrong.

His finger itched towards the trigger and he prepared to shoot, but the fox didn't move and held his arms up, hook and everything.

"Lad," The fox said and it dawned on Mike that during his breakdown, the pirate accent had been dropped, "Ya need to get out o' here. Me mates, they not be right in the head."

"What," Mike snarled, not trusting him, "and you are?"

Foxy shook his head, "No. Ol' Foxy be far from it. But tha' don't mean I want ye dead. Ye can get out alive, but ya need to trust me."

Shaking his head, Mike couldn't believe that he was almost willing to do so. "No. Not after everything you've done."

"We don't have time for this!" Foxy snapped, his eye darting from door to door, "Me mates will be here any second, now!"

Indeed, he was correct; Mike could already hear loud, purposeful footsteps coming down from the dining area.

"Why should I trust you?!" Mike hissed, angry that he'd allowed himself to be put in this situation.

For the first time, Mike saw the uncompromising aura Foxy had. "Because I be a monster, and tonight, ye need one on ya side."

Cursing himself for a fool, Mike nodded. "Fine. Suggestions?"

The animatronics were mid-way in the hall, now. Mike knew that he wouldn't reach the vent in time, not when he didn't know what positions they were in. They weren't going to be in a group, so they likely had both hallways covered.

By the time he reached the vent and had the cover gone, one of them would grab him. Even with the gun in his hand, he knew he wouldn't last more than a few moments against the three of them, since he highly doubted that Foxy would be willing to attack his fellow animatronics to defend the night guard.

Then, it would be off to the backstage room. Where a slow, painful death awaited him.

Why did I come back? Mike thought to himself with closed eyes. He'd only himself to blame.

"Get in the corner." Foxy commanded, quick and desperate, "Now. We don't 'ave time to argue, lad! Ye need to get in the corner, right now!"

With every part of him screaming in protest and fear, Mike forced himself to trust the fox. He ran to the back corner, where Foxy followed him. The far corner was dark, dusty, and covered with web both old and new; but if surviving meant getting a few dead spiders on him, then that was a sacrifice Mike was willing to make.

Many painful seconds passed as they stood there, Foxy facing away from the Night Guard doing his best to cover Mike with his shadow. Foxy wasn't that much taller than Mike, no more than an inch. In spite of that, Foxy's robotic frame almost dwarfed Mike's own flesh-and-blood figure. Or, at least, it felt like it.

No more than ten seconds later, the animatronics arrived. Bonnie and Chica were there first, entering through different hallways. Freddy passed through last, his glaring eyes darting around the room and when they settled on Foxy, his expression changed from vigilant rage to shocked happiness.

"Foxy?" He asked lowly, "You're alive?"

The other two broke out into thankful blessings and questions were passed around, as the animatronics greeted each other in what Mike could only describe as human an interaction as he'd ever witnessed it. The animatronics' nature was confusing him to no end, though he imagined their tones would change the moment they laid their eyes on him.

"How'd you survive?" Bonnie chimed in, his eyes wide,

"Are you okay?" Chica asked with concern,

"Where'd the endo go?" Freddy demanded,

With his hand and hook raised in a halt gesture, Foxy spoke for the first time to his accomplices.

"Please, me buckos," He said casually, his pirate accent lasting even with those of his kind, "Ol' Foxy still be blasted a bit."

Though there was an undeniable urgency in the bear's eyes, Freddy took his time. "You're right. Let's start at the top. How…how are you still alive?"

With a shrug, Foxy rubbed his head with his hook, "To be frank with ye, bosun, Ol' Foxy don't have a clue. After I be shot, me 'death' be played again an' again in me head. Felt like I be in Davey Jones' locker, stuck in a never-ending nightmare."

Nodding, Freddy rested his huge hand on his chin thoughtfully, "That makes sense. I remember one of the engineers mentioning that if we were ever…incapacitated…we'd go into 'stand-by' mode or something."

"Are you feeling okay now?" Chica asked again,

With a nod and a small smile, Foxy replied, "Never better, lass. Though me leg be a bit…more fickle than normal."

"That brings me to my last question," Freddy glared around the room, "Where did our uninvited guest go?"

Mike bit his lip, awaiting the betrayal.

"Have no idea, bosun," Foxy explained, making sure not to make any movement that could expose the night guard's cover, "By the time 'Ol Foxy came to, the landlubber was gone."

Freddy scowled, "It's been a nuisance, alright. I have no idea what it used against you, but it was loud. Almost like a—"

"A gun," Foxy acknowledged,

Freddy looked around, "Did you see where it went?"

With another shake of his head, Foxy continued the act. "'e must've run."

Bonnie shook his own head, "It can't have. We never left the dining hall. It must still be around here."

With a small tap to his chin, Foxy continued, "'ave you checked the storage room?"

"Yes," Bonnie answered,

"Wha' about the kitchen?"

"Checked that before we came here," Chica replied, with an edge of doubt,

Foxy was running out of locations, "How about the bosun's office?"

"It's locked," Freddy stated curtly,

Realizing that this was only going to end one way, Mike started to get nervous. He was skilled with a gun and he had the advantage of surprise, but there was no way he'd be able to take on three of them on his own, especially when it took three shots to take Foxy down before.

Speaking of which, Mike could hardly expect that when push gave to shove and Foxy either had the choice of allowing the night guard to potentially kill his friends or standing by while they killed him, that the fox wouldn't choose the latter; it was the choice between taking another life or letting his family die.

"Foxy," Freddy continued, his voice announcing his decreasing patience, "You must've seen something. The endoskeleton couldn't have just vanished."

Foxy shrugged, standing his ground, "Well, ye can't be sayin' 'e is in 'ere, can ya? Wha, 'e's invisible now?"

"'He'," Chica spoke up, causing both Freddy and Bonnie to glance at her with looks of confusion and recognition.

Foxy looked at her, "Wha' ye say, lass?"

"You've called it a 'he' several times now."

Realizing his mistake, Foxy tripped over his words, "Well, I just thought tha' referring to 'em as an 'it' be a bit disrespectful…"

"Foxy," Freddy cut through his excuse with an undeniable force, "You've been lying the whole time we've been here. Now, I'm going to ask you again: Where is the endoskeleton?"

Mike was fingering for the trigger, getting ready to start shooting.

With his reasons thwarted, Foxy imitated a sigh and started telling the truth, "Things be complicated, mate. The endo…it not be wha' we thought it be."

"What are you talking about?" Chica asked, her concern rising,

"The endo." Foxy spoke grimly, hesitant to reveal the horrific truth to his allies, "Not just the one this week. All o' them. They never be endos."

Freddy blinked, "What are you…?"

"The endos be human." Foxy finished.

Silence erupted between the animatronics. Mike couldn't quite see how they looked, though he doubted that even if the lighting was good and his view wasn't obstructed, he still wouldn't be able to tell how they'd reacted.

"Foxy," The bear finally responded, his voice slow and steady, "That's impossible."

Foxy shook his head, "It not be."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Bonnie asked with some measure of care,

"I be fine, lad." Foxy grunted,

"Sometimes…sometimes we see things that aren't quite what you think they are," Chica said carefully,

Foxy growled, "I not be crazy! They be the night guards!"

Shaking his head sadly, Freddy looked at the fox, disappointed, "I never thought you'd do this, Foxy. Lying? To your own family?"

"I not be lying." Foxy hissed,

"I'm not a fool, Foxy." Freddy's eyes turned hard, "Do you seriously think I'd be so blind and unperceptive while there is a threat to my family in these halls? I've known the endoskeleton was behind you the moment I stepped in."

Mike's breath was cut off. Realizing that the gambit had failed, he decided to stop playing pretend and flicked on his flashlight, aiming his gun at the animatronics and stepped out from the shadow of Foxy.

He immediately noticed the primal reactions from the other two; both Bonnie and Chica would have charged him right then and there, had it not been for Freddy holding his hands up to block him and Foxy raising his hook in aggression.

"What are you doing?" Chica scowled, looking at their leader,

"Freddy, it's right there!" Bonnie exclaimed, "We need to get it! Now!"

Foxy snarled, "None o' ya will be doin' anything!"

"Why have you been lying?" Freddy questioned him quietly, never taking his eyes off the fox, "After all we've been through…all these years…for it?"

"'Him'," Foxy corrected,

Mike's mouth was dry; though it seemed the fox was standing his ground and refusing to allow his friends to attack, the night guard doubted very much it would last. But as long as they were standing there, blocking both exits, Mike knew that he'd never get anywhere.

"Lad," Foxy turned his head around slightly so he'd still see any movement from the others and whispered, "Hold ye ground. When I make a move, ya run for it."

"Please, Foxy," Chica begged, her eyes filled with concern, "Walk away. Something must've happened to you after it shot you. You're malfunctioning. We can handle this, but don't do anything you'll regret.

Foxy shook his head, "Not gonna happen, lass."

"So what's your plan?" Bonnie demanded, "You're going to attack us? What will that gain? You'd really hurt your own family for the thing that shot you only half an hour ago?!"

"Ol' Foxy don't wanna hurt anyone," Foxy mumbled, "But ya not touchin' a single hair on the lad's head. The scales 'ave been lifted from me eyes. If ya do this…ye will regret it."

His eyes turning desperate, Freddy gave one last plea, "We've been family for twenty years. Together. We've suffered all these years. Together. We've guarded these halls. Together."

"An' now I stand separately," Foxy said mournfully, "An' that ain't about to change."

With a sigh, Freddy stepped forward. Mike placed his finger on the trigger, intending to fire.

"If any of you step any closer," Foxy yelled out, almost making Mike jump out of his own skin and shocking the others, "Ya will rue the day! No one dies tonight! No more! Not again!"

Silence filled the gap as the stand-off continued. Bonnie and Chica glared daggers into Mike, who was waiting for any sign of movement.

Freddy never took his eyes off the fox, who had he been living, would've been sputtering in rage.

This isn't getting anywhere, Mike realized. No matter his own thoughts of revenge, he knew that even if Foxy was intent on fighting his family on behalf of the night guard, there was no way they'd win.

With a weak sigh, Mike stepped to the side of Foxy and finally spoke up.

"Lad," Foxy insisted, "Get back. If they rush ya, I don't know if I can get them away from ye."

"This isn't going anywhere," Mike replied, thinking of what to say. Reason with them? He doubted that would work, "Maybe they need to be told what idiots they're being."

He continued stepping forward and Foxy backed away, allowing him to take center stage however reluctantly. Maybe if he threatened them? No, He told himself. Any threats would be empty at best since they had the numbers advantage, and would turn Foxy against him at worst. As much as he would like to explain to them how he would dismantle them piece by piece, he also knew it would only result in his subsequent slow death.

"Well?" Freddy spoke up, once again raising his arms up to block Bonnie and Chica, who seemed to want nothing more than to rip him apart piece by piece.

Contradict them? He pondered that, initially not believing it to be of use. However, the more he thought of it, the more he liked it. A debate was usually turning everything the opponent said and using it against them. Logic bombs are king, his English teacher had once told his class.

Even if it wouldn't convince them, as it had proven with the most stubborn debate opponents, confusing them would still be an advantage in a situation where he was incredibly disadvantaged.

"Why have you been after me?" Mike demanded, already knowing the answer but needing a general consensus.

Freddy didn't take his eyes off Foxy, leaving Bonnie to answer, "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Why have you been hunting me this past week?"

A moment of hesitation passed before Chica answered, "Because you're an endoskeleton. Without its costume on. We have to follow the rules."

"Why?" Mike didn't know whether he was simply stalling or actually trying to reason with the killer robots, but either way, it didn't seem to be helping, "All you four seem to do all night is play a game of 'hunt the night guard'."

"'Endoskeleton'," Bonnie insisted,

"Okay," Mike shrugged, "If I'm an endoskeleton, where is the night guard?"

None of them had an answer to that, though Mike was noticing more and more that the animatronics were only one slip away from attacking. He needed to hurry up and figure something out.

"Don't you think it's a bit of a contradiction? If you mean what you're saying, you've been 'patrolling' the pizzeria for the last, what, six years? What's the night guard's role in this?"

"'To assist in the night-to-night guarding of Freddy Fazbear's," Freddy iterated, refusing to look at Mike,

"And when was the last time you saw a night guard?"

More silence. Though Mike had to admit to himself that he didn't know where he was going with this, he felt it was only necessary to push on. Even if it was to get the ridiculousness of the whole situation off his chest.

"The lad speaks true," Foxy spoke up, "We never considered tha'. Every night, for five years, an imposter be in the Crow's Nest."

"That's not ours to question," Freddy answered sternly.

"Why not?" Mike demanded, "You're acting like you've been ordered to do this. What could you possibly be following to justify this?"

"The rules. They must be followed."

"What rules?" Mike was losing his patience,

They didn't answer.

"If you're so insistent on following these rules, then answer this one question."

This was it. Mike's last gambit. If this didn't even faze them, then Mike hadn't a clue what else could work.

"If the rules state that all endoskeletons must be in a costume," He spoke in a church-whisper voice, only just audible enough for them to hear, "then why is there one sitting in the backstage room?"

He saw their eyes go wide. The question, as he'd hoped, had unsteadied them. Knowing that he couldn't let it slip, he continued to press them.

"Every night," He continued, noticing Chica looking away stubbornly but confused, and seeing Bonnie staring at the ground in awe, "every shift, it's been there. I've seen the rabbit go in there. You don't even look at that damn thing. Why?"

"Because" Freddy starting saying, aimless, "Because…we need to…"

"We be tricked, mates," Foxy stated, his voice forceful but sad, "Don't know by whom, but we be tricked. Some landlubber be messing with our heads, and it must stop."

Freddy shook his head, but no more words came out of his mouth. They still couldn't believe it—still couldn't believe it—but the words had broken their resolve.

"Let 'im walk." Foxy pleaded one last time,

"Foxy," Freddy looked at him, "We can't—"

"It's the only way, Fazbear."

"The risk is—"

"The risk be nothin' compared to the consequences if ya don't. Let 'im walk."

Thoughtfully, Freddy looked around: At the fox who was prepared to attack, at Bonnie and Chica who were confused and angry, and at Mike. The night guard couldn't quite tell what he was thinking, whether he was even considering the possibility, but there wasn't any other solution.

Slowly, reluctantly, Freddy nodded.

"Stand aside," He said to his accomplices,

They looked at him incredulously.

"Freddy," Bonnie said, his mouth agape, "You can't be serious!"

"Stand aside," Freddy repeated,

"This is crazy," Chica hissed, "It's—"

"An unknown quantity," Freddy cut in, "And I'm not willing to hurt my family when I'm not sure it's the right move."

Hesitating, the animatronics looked away. Mike wasn't sure if they'd even follow through, but he was satisfied when they backed up into the hallway.

"You better be right about this." Freddy stated to the fox,

Foxy put himself between Mike and the others as they stepped over to the opposite doorway.

"Go," Freddy started to say, "We'll wait—"

Then he froze.

Mike blinked, not understanding what had happened. Slowly, the light behind his eyes faded. It was then that Mike realized the same had happened to the other two behind him.

"What are they doing?" Mike demanded, fear in his voice,

"Freddy?" Foxy asked, just as frightened, "What be happening?"

They didn't move, not an inch. Like figures in a painting, lifeless.

Then their eyes rolled back in their sockets and a chilling red light replaced the original white.

They started twitching.

"Run, lad." Foxy murmured.

"What?" Mike responded, his voice small.

"Run!" Foxy howled, as Freddy moved forward.

Jumping at him, Foxy swung his hook, trying to sever the bear's outstretched hand. With a movement so graceful and so smooth that Mike couldn't understand how a robot was the culprit, Freddy grabbed the fox by the throat, slamming him face-first into the desk twice, then throwing him aside.

His breath cut short and his blood burning, Mike turned and pulled the vent, unscrewed by him three nights before, off the wall and clambered into the opening.

Before he was able to get his whole body inside, something grabbed his leg. He yelled out, spun around, and fired three shots wildly.

Whatever it struck seemed to work, for the arm holding his leg retracted and he pulled himself through, so happy that the vent was big enough for him to move so fluidly. He continued crawling, not wanting to see what was behind him.

Don't look back, He told himself, don't look back…

When he reached the end of the vent, he spun around. Using the flashlight to see what was behind him, he was almost surprised to find nothing more than an empty vent.

Just on the other open end, where he'd come from, he saw multiple pairs of legs standing by the opening. It seemed that they were incapable of crawling.

Moments of unbearable tension passed before the animatronics realized that their prey wasn't returning. With synchronized coordination, they all turned and stomped off down the hallway.

Mike took some time to catch his breath. He saw no sign of Foxy. Knowing that he had no time to ponder what he'd just experienced, he felt the fabric of the duffle bag next to him.

Sitting up as much as he could in the vent, he pulled the bag open and checked the equipment inside. All still there.

Turning around to face the other opening of the vent, which exposed the unmapped territory of the kitchen, Mike used the screwdriver in the bag to open the vent from the inside, then opened it quietly.

Slowly and steadily, he entered the dark, dusty kitchen.

His eyes immediately darted to the door, which stood shut. Knowing full well that it was only going to be a matter of time before they checked the room, he hefted the two duffle bags from the vent and placed them on one of the counters.

It was good he'd been able to fully prepare for this outcome. If this had happened only a night earlier, he likely wouldn't have the firepower to—

He froze. He could feel the presence, even without it emitting a sound. Scowling, he gripped the pistol, breathed in and out, knowing that he would only have a second to react.

The moment he spun around, Golden Freddy's roaring face rushed him.

He was able to fire off two shots before getting knocked aside. He flew over the counter, falling hard on his back.

Damn it, he cursed to himself. He jumped up, ignoring the soaring pain in his left shoulder blade, and glanced around the kitchen. All that was left was a shower of golden dust, flickering in the darkness before finally fading.

Cursing to himself again, he looked around, making sure the shade was gone. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered the Golden Freddy, though, unlike the others, he still didn't have a clue how it worked. He'd seen some crazy things in Freddy's, but that was a mystery he doubted would be solved anytime soon.

Rushing back to the counter with the duffle bags, he unzipped them, knowing full-well that with those fired gunshots, the animatronics would be zeroing in on his location. After unzipping the bags, he carefully took out each item within.

He wrapped the golden holster around his waist, placing both the pistol he'd carried with him since the start of the night and the secondary he brought in the duffle bag. Then came out the machete, blade about as big as his arm. He'd hoped that getting within range of the animatronics wouldn't be a factor, but it was best to take precautions.

Then, he took out the SMG. An MP5, short enough to carry without too much worry and big enough to pack a punch. He'd paid an arm and a leg for it.

Nine months of working that warehouse job, saving every quarter he could. No luxuries, no unnecessary purchases, and a lacking lifestyle. It all came down to this.

With a small smile on his face and enough firepower to light up Freddy's, Mike grabbed all the ammunition he was physically able to carry. He couldn't waste a single round. Nine months since that week. Nine months of pain and misery. Nine months of not being able to even sleep at night without it all coming back.

Tonight, the nightmare was going to end. The animatronics were going to pay for what they did to him. He was going to either end up dead with them or in prison.

He no longer cared.

"Well," He breathed to himself as he loaded the magazine into the MP5, "Time to start the show."

He approached the kitchen door, listened out for any footsteps, nudged it open slightly, and glanced out. He could see Freddy near the restrooms and Bonnie over by the backstage.

Readying himself for the final chapter in his story with the pizzeria, Mike kicked the door open and yelled out with a mask of rage.

"What are you waiting for?!" He roared, "Come and get me!"

Bonnie began to charge, but before he could close the gap, Mike fired, grazing him. Stunned, the rabbit continued, but to Mike's shock, a shadow darted from the hallway and tackled Bonnie.

Foxy, Mike thought to himself. It seemed that they hadn't quite finished the pirate.

Freddy charged at Mike, knocking the tables aside as he did. This time, at this range, it was all too easy; Mike fired the SMG, the bullets striking the bear's legs and chest.

Freezing, the bear started to collapse; grabbing the table as support, he began to get back up, but Mike shot him again, this time aiming for the head.

That time, when Freddy tried to grab the table, his weight made it collapse.

Not wanting to take any chances, Mike stepped around the collapsed table, discovering Freddy broken but conscious. His mask was damaged and beneath the torn fabric, Mike saw a flash of metal.

Cursing again, Mike took aim, but the commotion on the other end of the room caught his attention.

Swinging wildly and ferociously, Foxy was going full pelt at Bonnie, who was virtually helpless. Unable to fight back, Bonnie collapsed to his knee and Foxy went in for the kill.

But just before he did so, Foxy stopped. His eye, filled with rage, turned to doubt. He hesitated.

Bonnie didn't.

Using the opening, Bonnie plunged his big fist through Foxy's torn chest and the fox gasped in pain. Then, the rabbit grabbed him by the throat, slammed him face-first into the wall and then into the tables, where Foxy vanished underneath the collapsed furniture.

The Bonnie turned to Mike.

Snarling, Mike looked back down at Freddy. The bear was starting to move again and with Mike down an ally, he knew what he needed to do.

Aiming for the chest, Mike unloaded into the fur-covered cavity. Freddy gasped, his blue eyes returning to normal before he gasped again, the light vanishing.

With that, Freddy Fazbear was out of the fight.

Seizing the opening, Bonnie rushed him, unmoved by his leader's death. Before the night guard was able to get the SMG up, Bonnie bashed him from the side. Though Mike was able to avoid the worst of it by dodging, the SMG was knocked out of his hands.

"Damn it!" Mike breathed, before Bonnie charged him once again.

Grabbing the machete out from the holster, Mike wielded it with two hands and thrusted it through the rabbit's chest.

Though it slowed Bonnie down, the rabbit pushed him against the wall, his face inches away from Mike. The rabbit's jaw opened and oil spat out of his dark-eyed face, covering Mike's own with it.

Repulsed, Mike fought to keep the fear down and reached into the side part of his holster. As Bonnie started reaching for Mike's face, ruthlessly clawing for a grip onto it, the Night Guard took the combat knife out from the holster.

Only moments before Bonnie was able to do what he intended to do—a fate which Mike did not like to think about—the Night Guarded thrusted the knife through the gap between the animatronic's shoulder and head, right through the neck.

Bonnie coughed blood again, but with less fear factor and more damage. He staggered back, reaching for his neck, and his own eyes turned back to normal, wide in shock.

Mike didn't take any chances. Grasping the pistol, he slid it from the holster, took aim, and shot Bonnie through the head. The animatronic collapsed backwards, falling into the table.

Grimacing in disgust, Mike stepped towards the damaged animatronic and without so much as a second thought, put two more bullets through his chest. Bonnie twitched, before the lights in his eyes dimmed.

Two down. Only one to go.

Out of the shadow of the hallway, Chica stomped out, assessed the destruction within the dining hall, and set her dark eyes on Mike. They stared at each other, unmoving and unblinking, before Mike gave one more defiant smirk.

"Your guys are all done for," He spoke, trying to keep his voice steady, "You sure you want to do this?"

Chica took a step forward.

Mike shrugged, "Fine by me."

He raised the pistol and pressed multiple times on the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"Aw, hell…" Mike cursed. Out of ammo.

Seeing the opportunity, Chica charged. Cursing again, Mike took the magazine out, rushed another into the pistol, and raised the pistol to fire.

He was able to get off two shots, but Chica shrugged them off and collided right into him, knocking him flying. He felt his world spin, felt himself hit a table on the way, and finally came to a halt, bashing his head.

His vision went white and his mind drifted.

Why am I here? He wondered, before gasping and trying to clear his vision.

As the white faded, red clouded his left eye. He blinked, trying to clear it, when he realised it was his own blood. He clawed onto the floor, crawling and trying to make sense of his surroundings. He went for the second pistol in his holster but was horrified to find it had fallen out. Desperate, he looked around for either one of them.

Damn it, He thought to himself, where is it?

Finally, his eyes settled on the pistol. It was a couple of rows of tables down, only five to ten feet away from him. He crawled, trying to go as fast as he could.

His hand reached out, seconds away from grasping his salvation…

…when he felt cold metal holding his leg like a vice and he was violently pulled out from the tables.

"No!" He screamed in rage and he soon found himself out from the cover of the tables.

He twisted and turned, trying to get himself out, and found the culprit to be Chica, who was intent on dragging him towards the backstage room. She didn't even so much as look back at him and her strength was surreal.

It dawned on him what her intentions were and he tried to kick her hands, her legs, anything he could target. But with his clouded vision and dazed head, along with the position, his attempts were fruitless.

I'm going to die, he thought to himself.

Snarling, trying to keep the rage above the rising terror and dread, he kicked again.

Nothing. Nothing was going to work.

Then, out of the shadows, he jumped out, his own snarl on his mangled face.

Foxy.

The fox came at Chica like a bat out of hell, colliding into her. She barely moved and seemed to be ignoring Foxy and focusing on Mike's own demise. Foxy punched her and her head twisted, but she was still unmoved.

With no other options, Foxy raised his hook and brought it down on her arm. The hook, a legitimate—and scarily sharp—metal, pierced her arm, going through the crevice between the parts of her suit right into the endoskeleton.

Her arm fell limply by her side, and Mike was able to wriggle his leg free.

Chica didn't ignore that. With a blank look, he pulled her arm back, raised it, and drove it through the fox's chest. With no hint of remorse, she pushed him back and violently crushed whatever she was holding.

Foxy gagged, collapsed to one knee, and fell to the ground.

This time, Mike had a feeling he wasn't getting back up.

Before she was able to resume her attention on the Night Guard, Mike sprinted for where he'd seen the gun, throwing himself down and sliding underneath the table, hurting his side in the process. He glanced around for where she was and got up.

She charged, but there was half a room between them and though Mike's head was still foggy, he couldn't miss.

He fired his whole magazine into her and eventually she fell face-first onto the floor, broken.

He didn't know how long he stood there, frozen in place. He found his lungs empty and he took as many breaths as he could. He thought at first he was going to vomit, but instead, he collapsed and sat down on the floor, his back to the wall.

He'd done it.

Realizing he was going to faint, both due to the stress and the injury to his head, his fear came back. What if they woke up and tried to kill him? He was going to be helpless.

Against his body's wishes, which begged him to just fall down flat on his face, Mike stumbled, not knowing where he was going. He eventually found himself in the restrooms, falling into one of the stalls.

Locking the stall, he fell down on the toilet and closed his eyes.

And with that, Act 1 is over. Apologies for the time distance between this one and the last one; it was a long chapter. But with that, we're only a third into the story.

vaetta: It is sad, isn't it? Can't blame Mike for hating them, but the animatronics weren't completely to blame either.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Appreciate the review! You actually brought up a point that has been worrying me since I finished the planning for this story. There's a couple of chapters later on that will get...violent. Like, really violent. I'll probably have to massively tone it down since I don't think it'll warrant an M rating to the entire story, but when we get to that chapter, I'll definitely have to put some kind of NSFW warning on it.

Another chapter will hopefully be coming this week.