Ignorance is Bliss

His eyes were glued to the clock. The hand ticked and ticked, minute after minute, hour after hour. In his head, he knew that the likelihood of Detective Caine returning that night would be low; what was the chance that he'd found something concrete less than twenty-four hours since his last visit?

Even still, Mike was tense. Anxious. Eager. Maybe even a little scared.

They'd gone over the plan, time and time again. Prepared for both the best and worst-case scenarios, Mike could only hope that it would go off without a hitch either way.

That was when Bonnie arrived at the door.

"He's here," The rabbit stated nervously, before retreating.

Taking several deep breaths, Mike cursed himself for a fool for hoping for a little more time. Doubts were starting to seep in, questions of whether the animatronics were right: Perhaps he was overplaying his hand.

But Mike had never been one for folding.

Getting up from his back-straining chair, Mike kept himself steady as he stepped out of the office. Going over the plan time and time again in his head, he gave a nervous nod to the animatronics as he passed. The reluctance on Freddy's face was paramount, but they'd given their vote.

Now it was time for the game.

As per the month's bad starting weather, the rain had fallen heavily and Caine was drenched in it once more. Heaving the wooden door open, Mike nodded to him.

"Detective," Mike kept his voice even,

"Schmidt," Caine replied, before stepping in.

"What brings you back so soon?" The night guard asked as they stepped into the main hall, Caine placing his soaking trench coat on one of the hanging rails as he passed.

Without looking at Mike, Caine replied, "Well, my inquiries turned up rather fruitful. Visited an old friend who'd been looking into Freddy's over the last few weeks, in fact."

"Police Informant?" Mike asked, biting his lip slightly.

Caine shook his head, "Not quite, no. More of an…informal partner, I guess you could call it."

That wasn't good. If it was a Police Informant, there'd been guidelines. Restrictions. The fact was, Mike didn't know just who Caine was. If he was so keen on bending the rules…

"So you're telling me he got this information illegally?" Mike grunted,

"I'm not sure. How Carl gets his information is beyond me, but it's usually sound."

"Doubt that'll hold up in court."

Caine shrugged, "Time will tell, I guess."

Stepping into the dining area, Caine scowled at the animatronics once more. He suspected something; that much was obvious. But was it of their actual origin, or something more sinister?

"So," Mike said, "Why did you come back?"

Without taking his eyes off the animatronics, Caine replied, "I've been given answers that have only risen more questions. And I'm expecting more than a few of them from you."

"Okay," Mike said dumbly, "I've got a few things that I need to show you, too."

"Lead the way, then." Caine gestured towards the security office.

As they walked, the prospect of this going well was quickly turning sour. It was clear that the Detective had found something and whatever that was, it was going to overturn all of Mike's arguments.

It was good they'd formed their plan, already.

Upon reaching the office, Caine looked around. "Take a seat."

Hesitant, Mike did what he was told. There was something different, this time. A wave of certain anger behind his words, one that told Mike that aggravating him further would not go well.

"Do you know Andy Hewitt?" Caine asked quietly, "Local kid, late teens?"

Mike bit his lip, "I think so…missing person, I think?"

"Aye. Went missing about three weeks ago."

"As I said, a lot of people go missing in this town."

"Then I'm sure you've heard of Holden White, Lincoln Jones, Glenn Green, and Randy Takei?"

"I'm…I'm not sure."

"All local kids," Caine explained, "White and Green were in their twenties. Jones was reaching his thirties. Takei had just left school."

Mike didn't say anything.

"White only had friends. Green's sister told the Police about his disappearance. Takei's parents have been demanding answers for where their son is. Jones had a daughter, about three years old."

"Where are you going with this?" Mike demanded,

"I getting to that," Caine snapped, making Mike recoil, "All of them went missing this year. Not one of them has been found. Not even a trace."

"Detective…" Mike pleaded,

"All of them," Caine finally turned around, his eyes a mask of quiet fury, "were working at Freddy's the week of their disappearance. Quite the coincidence, don't you think?"

"I don't know anything about that," Mike tried to keep his voice steady but was struggling.

"Strange," Caine said, "since they were all working here around the time you've been. All Night Guard positions, too."

Mike chose not to say anything.

"But of course," Caine continued, "Freddy's likes to bury its secrets, doesn't it? The Missing Children's incident, for one. Management wasn't able to keep the news that children had gone missing in their establishment, but they were able to control the narrative."

Feeling helpless, Mike tried to get some measure of control back, "I don't know what I look like to you, but I was at School when that happened!"

"Indeed," Caine shot back, "Which means that some of those kids probably went to the same school as you, right?"

Closing his eyes and controlling his breathing, Mike replied, "Stop it."

"Yet here you are," Caine pressed on, "Helping this company keep its shady secrets down."

"That's not how it is. You know that."

"What I know, is that those kids weren't just missing were they?"

His eyes opening, Mike looked at Caine, aghast.

"News to you?" Caine snorted, "They were murdered. No doubt about that. Found their bodies in the animatronics, a few weeks after they went missing."

"How…?"

Pulling something out of his suit jacket, Caine threw down a file onto the ground in front of Mike. "It was a bugger to find that. Bribe money, you see. To stop the local news from reporting it."

Things were starting to make sense to Mike, "Which was why the last time they started reporting about Freddy's…"

"Was a long time after their reporting of the incident," Caine finished.

"Still," Mike couldn't help but get defensive, "I don't know how that involves me. You think management could give a damn about some night guard?!"

"True," Caine answered quietly, "Especially for one that was fired."

His breath cut short, Mike knew that even if he could struggle the words out, they'd merely be unintelligible nonsense.

"You were a fool to think wouldn't find out," Caine continued, "or maybe you think I am. Tell, me, Mike Schmidt; if the animatronics are so inactive…why did you feel the need to attack them with a wrench?"

"I…" Mike stammered,

"Do you just not like technology?" Caine pushed on, "Or maybe you were angry? Scared? Confused?"

"Detective…" Not knowing what to do, Mike could only attempt to convince him otherwise, "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" Caine snarled,

"It…it was just a misunderstanding—"

Before Mike could even so much as blink, Caine rushed him. The detective grasped his collar with both hands and thrust him into the wall. Gasping, Mike struggled against him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Mike yelled out,

Fury in his eyes, Caine's calm demeanour had quickly turned cruel, "Enough of the god damn lies, Schmidt! You know exactly what is going on here!"

"Get off me!"

"People have died here! You know that! Why are you protecting them?!"

"What, you think I'm a company stoolie?!" Mike screamed back, "I couldn't give a damn about the company!"

"I'm not talking about the company." Caine lowered his voice to a whisper.

Blinking, Mike didn't understand what he was hearing. Then it all made sense. He knows, Mike thought to himself. Somehow, someway, he knows. From the start, he knew.

"The animatronics," Mike mumbled,

"Exactly," Caine snarled, "So tell me, sir, what the bloody hell is going on?!"

The jig was up. That much was clear. There was no pretending otherwise. Calming his nerves for what was about to come, Mike closed his eyes. "They're responsible."

Not letting his grip go, Caine lowered his voice, almost intrigued, "Go on."

"They kill the night guards," Mike explained, putting at least a nugget of truth in his words, "Always have. They were shot two weeks ago, so they stopped doing it."

That seemed to interest Caine, "You're sure? They've not moved at all?"

"No," Mike shook his head, "I can check. Maybe…maybe we can get out of here, just in case."

Caine snorted, "I'm not going away that easily."

"Then…" Mike bit his lip, "Then let me check. If they've not moved, I will tell you everything. If you can get me out of here…"

"So," Caine said sarcastically, "you're not happy with your job?"

"Of course not," Mike snapped, actually meaning it, "and I have no intention of dying in here."

Not moving for a moment, Caine gave a slight nod. "Check the monitor, then."

Releasing him from his grasp, Caine stepped back. Making sure not to hesitate even slightly, Mike hurried over to the monitor. Sure enough, the animatronics were still onstage. He flicked between the main stage and Pirate's Cove a couple of times.

With that, the signal had been given. It was in the hands of the animatronics, now.

"Okay," Mike said, flustered, "They're still there."

"Let's go, then," Caine said.

"Before we do," Mike asked, "How? How do you know about…?"

With his back to Mike, Caine didn't move at first. Then, slowly, he pulled out a device from his suit pocket. It was small, like a pager. He pressed down on a button and a voice spoke.

"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 chest tightening, Mike stammered to find his words, "That's…"

"Your mentor, I believe?"

Hesitating, Mike nodded, "I guess. As much as one I had, anyway. But how did you get your hands on that?"

Caine shrugged, "A couple of hours ago, I let myself into one of Fazbear Entertainment's storage warehouses. Turns out, they had back-ups of certain pieces of…information."

That made sense to Mike, "That's how you knew about the deaths, then. Both my predecessors…"

"And the kids, aye," Caine answered for him.

"Then you understand why I lied," Mike pointed out, hoping to convince him of such, "The information they have…"

"I guess I do," Caine admitted, "But if you hadn't, this would've been so much simpler."

"Maybe," Mike said, hoping to hide his doubt.

"Anyway," Caine gestured to the door, "Let's get going."

Following Caine out the door, Mike started to go over the plan once more. As long as the animatronics were ready and prepared, they wouldn't have a problem; after all, what could one brute in a suit do against four killer robots?

Almost wish I'd see them scare him, Mike admitted to himself.

Within a matter of minutes, Mike would hopefully be sitting comfortably whilst Freddy and Foxy would have the Detective tied up. They would stage an 'interrogation', though it wouldn't be as much to get information; just to scare him enough to gauge what he was going to do.

Whether he was going to turn up at the Police Station a pile of nerves or a furious mess, it was still going to end up the same way: The Police turning up to find a group of inactive robots, an unharmed Night Guard, and one very confused Detective to boot.

As long as the plan worked…

The moment the stage came into view, it stood empty and foreboding. Only weeks ago, it would've been a sight that would have sent Mike running back to his haven.

"Oh, my God…" Mike backed away, trying to sell the act.

Not taking his eyes off the stage, Caine scowled. "Well, that was unexpected. The only question now is—"

They both heard it at the same time: The rustling of curtains. To his credit, Caine got the pistol out of his holster and fired off a bullet, but Foxy's hook got his first. The gun went flying out of Caine's hands.

Foxy howled in fury.

Backing up from the action, Mike was startled when he saw the small combat knife get pulled out by Caine, who removed it from the sheath. Slashing it precisely, the knife dug into Foxy's unexposed arm, ripping into his suit.

Before the detective could damage him any further, Freddy leaped out from the shadows and collided with Caine. Hitting the table as he fell down, the detective attempted to fight back until both the fox and the bear grabbed him.

Now it was Mike's turn.

Spinning around, Mike ran from his spot towards the front door; just before he was able to reach it, Bonnie intercepted him, a tower of despair and unyielding force. Even though he knew what he was turning around into, Mike jumped when he was met by Chica.

"No!" Mike yelled out as the chicken grabbed him by the collar, pulling away, but her strength was real enough; he wouldn't have been able to pull away even if it wasn't a part of the plan.

But then, when Chica started to drag him towards the backstage room, that false panic turned into something cruel and real.

Mike began to scream as they approached the backstage door, desperately trying to pull away. Freddy opened the door, threw Mike into the abyss, stepped inside, and slammed the door close.

No, Mike begged his head to see reason, That isn't going to happen, it's all a part of the plan…

Closer and closer he got towards the backstage room and he finally broke.

"No, no, no." He breathed, "Wait…"

They didn't look at him.

"I changed my mind," He whispered, "Let me go…"

They didn't turn around.

His denials and pleads grew louder.

"No!" He yelled out, clawing Chica's arm, desperately trying to pull away, "Not like this!"

But he'd dug his grave. He'd made his decision. Now it was time to face the consequences.

He saw Caine on the other side of the room, pinned to the table by Freddy and Foxy. The detective's face was a mask of anger and desperation, but he was unable to fight back. Though the bear kept his eyes on the detective, Foxy recoiled in shame when he heard Mike's scream.

"No!" Mike screamed out again, "No!"

He was dragged into the darkness of the backstage room and Bonnie stepped in last. Heaving the door with both colossal hands, he slammed it shut.

As soon as the grip around his collar was let loose, Mike scrambled away, his face covered in sweat.

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

He didn't hear the words at first. He scrambled towards the back wall, looking for any item he could use as a rudimentary weapon. Eyes setting on the screwdriver in one of the trays, he grabbed it and span around.

Then the words became clearer.

"Mike, Mike!" Chica kept her voice low and concerned, "It's okay, you're okay! Please calm down."

Blinking, Mike tried to back away more but found himself without any more room.

"I'm sorry," She continued, "We didn't mean to scare you."

He tasted blood. His tongue reached towards his bottom lip, which he'd bitten open.

"Are you hurt?" Chica asked him, her eyes soft.

"I…" Mike mumbled, "I…"

He saw Bonnie's face, filled with sorrow and regret. He saw Chica's, who gave the same look his mother had once given him after he'd broken his arm, almost six years ago.

He dropped the screwdriver.

"I'm sorry…" He said, collapsing down to the ground.

Hesitantly, Chica approached him and knelt down beside him. "This was why I didn't want to do this plan," She admitted, "Not just because of what we've done…but after what you went through."

"Yeah," Mike nodded his head, "I…didn't really think about this."

He was a fool. How could he not have even considered his own stake in this? He had thought he was stronger than that; thought he'd gone through enough to handle it, to keep his emotions in check.

He was wrong.

"I'm sorry," He said again, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes, "This was my decision. I…I think I might have been wrong."

Chica hesitated before agreeing, "It's too late now, sadly."

"It's not just that."

She blinked, "Oh?"

"Foxy was right," Mike said quietly, "I've been still thinking of you lot as the enemy. Blaming the four of you for…everything, I guess."

She didn't say anything at first, although he noted that she seemed both sad and satisfied about it. "Maybe it's not just us you're blaming."

Remaining silent, Mike gave a slight nod.

"Maybe you've seen us for what we truly are," She continued, "and you're now feeling guilty for how you saw us before. You're blaming yourself for not knowing."

He didn't say anything, but in his mind, he saw the truth in her words.

"Mike, releasing us from what was controlling us…maybe it wasn't a blessing. But it wasn't a curse, either."

Mike bit his lip, "But I wasn't intending on 'freeing' any of you at all."

Smiling sadly, she shrugged, "Sometimes the best reactions come from unintended actions."

He looked at her strangely.

"Sorry," She said, "I read that in a cookbook."

In spite of himself, Mike couldn't stifle the laugh. Composing himself, he looked towards the door. "How do you think they're doing?"

"I'm not sure," Chica admitted.

"How about the peephole?"

Both of them looked at Bonnie. "What?" Mike asked.

"The peephole," Bonnie explained, pointing at the wall nearby.

Both Mike and Chica glanced at each other. "There's a 'peephole'?"

"Yeah," Bonnie continued, "Right there."

Hesitating, Mike stood up and stepped towards the wall. He pried around for what Bonnie was saying and sure enough, he found a small hole in the wall, just big enough to look through.

"Well, I'll be damned," Mike mumbled to himself before looking through it.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: He's certainly not being honest, that's for sure. The real question is where his true motives lay?

TheAmberShadow: It's certainly something that could work, but it could also backfire majorly.

The end of Arc 2 is quickly approaching.