The Break-In

Noticing a lack of pedestrians near the street leading up to Freddy's, Caine decided not to take the risk of being spotted and made sure he wasn't being watched. After checking all the possible bystanders were gone, he reached the alleyway behind the restaurant and quickly stepped in.

The alleyway was short, merely a stretch between the open road directly adjacent to Freddy's and the smaller street past it. Nevertheless, it gave good cover and led to the only other entry point into the pizzeria.

Hanging off the doorframe was a sign representing 'FIRE ESCAPE'. Finding the fact that the management at least adhered to fire safety rules darkly amusing, Caine gave a small snort before seeing the man standing there, back against the wall next to the fire escape and a device in hand.

"I'm presuming that's work-related," Caine mused, his eyebrow raised.

Not taking his eyes off the device, Carl seemed focused. He usually would almost zone out when working, as many previous cases had proved. However tedious it would sometimes get, Caine didn't say anything about it. After all, Carl did his job and he did it well.

Even Caine would sometimes be surprised at how good he was, as his frown proved when he saw the light hanging above the fire escape—at first a foreboding red—flashed green.

Putting the device away, Carl gave a small smile, "You ready?"

"Don't get cocky," Caine warned, but he couldn't help the grin; no matter how many times he'd seen it, he would always be caught impressed whenever Carl would make a job complicated even on paper seem like child's play.

He'd always been great with technology.

"To think," Carl said, "If you hadn't come crashing through that window, I'd still be cleaning floors."

Caine shrugged as he leaned against the wall, "Nah. You would've found your own way."

"I guess," Carl's expression turned serious, "So, what's the plan?"

Now that it was his time to shine, Caine gestured towards the doorway, "We sneak in, avoid any of the staff, recover any evidence, and sneak back out."

Carl blinked, "That's it?"

"What?"

"That's not a plan. That's a checklist."

"Hey, don't blame me," Caine chided, "If it were up to me, I'd have sent Sokolov's lot to clear the place out."

"That would be fun," Carl agreed, "but not exactly subtle."

"Yep, so that just leaves us."

"Okay," Carl gave another smile, "Then lead the way, oh master of stealth."

Opening the door as carefully as possible, Caine stepped in. Entry-wise, the escape door was located in the east hallway, right next to the security office. From what Caine could understand, the door was electronically locked during after hours and otherwise could only be opened from the inside.

Getting in had, as it turned out, been easy. Getting to the Manager's office, which was their destination, was going to be a tad bit more difficult.

Upon entering, Caine made a point to avoid the cameras outside the office. Peeking inside, he saw a boy no older than nineteen sitting at the desk, looking awfully unfocused.

Falling into a crouch, the Detective stepped past the doorway and glanced over towards Carl, who was fidgeting with his device. After a few seconds, Carl gave a short nod to tell him that the camera pointing down the hallway was down.

Going as fast and quiet as possible, the duo went down the hallway as the camera—as Carl had mentioned he could do—was playing the last minute over to cover their tracks. It would've been faster to go through the security office, but Caine wasn't willing to get caught just so they could shave off twenty seconds.

Remaining in the shadows, they eventually reached the dining hall, where the sound of a dry cleaner told them of someone else's presence. Glancing around the corner, Caine saw a man in a jumpsuit cleaning the floors of the pizzeria. He was an older gentleman, slightly rotund with an almost serene look.

On the stage were the animatronics, lifeless and unsettling. After shooting them a glare, Caine gave a nod to Carl. Once the janitor had turned his back to them, they carefully stepped into the dining hall and maneuvered around the tables and over towards the other hallway.

Taking a few small steps down the dark hallway, where a broken light above them represented to odd versatility of maintenance efforts, Caine shot a look at Carl who was in the process of hacking the camera stopping them in their tracks.

Once he was done, he quickly gave a nod of confirmation and they went down the hallway, quicker than before. Only a short distance between them and the manager's office.

Reaching the door, which was halfway between the dining hall and the security office, Caine quickly took out the two small tools he'd brought with him. His initial reconnaissance had been a good move, as he'd found that the lock into the manager's office wasn't a combination or a new electronic lock.

It was a classic key lock, which meant that the old way was the only way.

Inserting the lockpick into the lock, Caine made sure not to waste any time. Within the security office, the camera would be replaying old footage, but it wouldn't last long.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Caine gave a quiet snarl as the lock eluded him.

Forty seconds.

Nervously glancing around the corner, Carl made sure not to distract him. It had been a long time since Caine had picked a proper lock like this.

Twenty seconds.

His chest getting tighter, Caine closed his eyes, choosing to rely on his instincts. He couldn't fail here. If they were caught, the whole jig would be up. They wouldn't get another chance at this.

Ten seconds.

Click.

Eyes shooting open, Caine quickly wrenched the open lock off and opened the door, ushering Carl inside. He closed the door just as the camera feed finally caught up.

For a few moments, they took in the sights of Garfield's office; it was clean, well-organized, accompanied by plenty of Freddys' memorabilia, including a few keyrings, tokens, and what even seemed to be Fazbear-Branded fake dollars.

On the shelves at the back were trophies, many of which seemed to be health and safety awards, children's entertainment awards, and a few were simply trophies of the animatronics themselves. There even seemed to be unrelated trophies, such as the one of a man wielding a baseball bat.

Garfield seemed to be quite the collector.

In the middle of the room was an oak wood desk, with a block-sized computer. Spotting it, Carl's eyes immediately lit up and he stepped towards it.

"I'll see if I can get into the computer," Carl said before sitting down on the office chair nearby and wheeling over to it.

Nodding absently, Caine glanced around the room to look at the file cabinets nearby. There were a dozen or so, all pushed back against the walls.

"I guess I better get looting," Caine sighed, before stepping over to the first one. This was going to take a while…

With his plan in motion and time running out, Mike knew what his first trip to would be; the supply closet, to grab anything he would need for the upcoming cleaning session.

However uncommon it was, the Night Guard had occasionally run into a fellow employee, usually as they were just leaving. At least two of the janitors he'd met, one being a larger old man and the other being slightly younger with a chip on his shoulder.

The other he'd met had been a nineteen-year-old day guard, who had been handing Mike his report after he'd taken the night shift duties due to Mike's stay at the hospital.

Though most of these interactions had been by accident, they had been perfect opportunities to get some information on Freddy's and the inner workings of the pizzeria, whether it was procedures or ongoing complications.

However morbid or surreal it had been upon discovering it, Mike was now very glad that he'd heard from the workers themselves the system put in place to clean up after the animatronics, with the mess usually being a late night guard.

From what he had gathered, taking care of the body usually had three points: The recovery of the body, the disposal of the body, and the cleaning up. However serial killer-like that sounded and felt like, Mike knew they were important.

His plan was simple: Shut himself inside the backstage room and start extracting the body—or if fate hated him, bodies—from the costumes. It would be a horrific, blood-curdling task, but other than leaving it up to chance, he didn't have much of a choice.

Once that was done, he would need to get the bodies out of the pizzeria. This was…somewhat more complicated. Other than the escape door near his office, which was locked during his shift, the only exit point would be the front door. Getting past the animatronics without them being suspicious was going to be hard.

Cleaning up would probably be the next best bet, since leaving blood on the ground to be discovered probably wasn't going to help him. Leaving the bodies outside also would be a bad idea, so all he could do was extract the bodies, clean up, then get out as soon as possible.

The problem was, as he reflected, he didn't actually have a way to get the bodies outside. He'd have to cross that bridge when he arrived.

If somehow he was successful, he knew exactly where to take the bodies; the same place he'd figured out where the others were. Just across the street from Freddy's was a small forest, but big enough and dark enough to remain hidden easily. Somewhere in that forest was a mass grave where more corpses would be dumped in before being buried.

So all he needed was a way to wheel the bodies out of the building, across the street, into the forest, and all the way to the mass grave of which location he was uncertain of, all without being spotted.

Reaching the door to the supply closet, Mike hesitated. This would be his last chance to go back, shut himself in his office, and wait it out until dawn.

Giving an irritable sigh, Mike pushed the door to the supply closet open before shutting it behind him.

He made his rounds in the supply closet, collecting all he believed he'd need for the job. Some mops and buckets, plenty of bleach, some protective gear to wear so that he wouldn't end up covered in blood on his clothes, and as many extra cleaning materials he could find.

That was when his eyes went to the large wheelie bin across from him.

It was shrouded by a large tarp, so he threw it back. Yellow in color and looking like it was on its last legs, Mike knew he couldn't afford not to take it. Opening the yellow wheelie bin, he was surprised to find just how big the space was.

Just big enough to fit a body.

"This must be how they do it," Mike mumbled to himself. Reaching into the wheelie bin, he spotted something dark in material.

He pulled it out and was bemused to find it to contain body bags, about three or four.

"Well," Mike snorted, "That's convenient."

If things had ever gone catastrophically wrong for him during his shifts, Mike knew that he would've ended up in one of those body bags, tossed into the wheelie bin and taken out to the mass grave.

It was almost funny how things had gone for him over the last few weeks.

Storing all of his equipment inside the wheelie bin, Mike started the long process of reaching the backstage room, all without being spotted.

Things were just not looking up for the Night Guard...

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Whatever he will find, it's going to make life certainly more difficult for all of them.

TheAmberShadow: Mike certainly seems to be flying too close to the sun.

Things certainly are not looking up for Mike and his band of outcasts.