Epilogue – Fade to Black

The light had started to flicker.

This, naturally, annoyed Mike. His office, as tattered as it was, layered with cobwebs, dust, and empty cups of milkshake that had been there when Mike first arrived at Freddy's had long since been accepted by the aimless Night Guard.

Now that the oval-shaped light above him was starting to flicker, it made the rest of it seem small. Although, he supposed that after a year of Freddy's, he'd understandably be used to the rest of it.

That startled him somewhat. Had it really been a year? He'd first joined up at Freddy's in the November of 1993 and now, it was Halloween. The scariest night of the year. He'd almost been disappointed to find no decorations announcing the event in the pizzeria.

As per usual, his mind returned to the impending doom that had been hanging over them since that night in September. It had been over a month since they had last seen Detective Caine. They hadn't had another visit, not from him or anyone else.

If he wasn't dead, Mike could only assume he was indisposed in some other way.

Flicking through the cameras, Mike checked on each of the animatronics. He'd made a habit of it, though he had come to accept that it wasn't out of suspicion or paranoia. It was to simply see how they were doing.

Ever since Freddy's speech about sacrificing himself, however futile Mike considered it to be, none of them had exactly been happy about it. They were still angry at themselves for what they had done—both to Caine and the many victims in that mass grave in the woods—and sad about the likelihood that their attempted redemption was all for nothing.

Even though he knew they wouldn't say it to his face, Mike also supposed they were still angry at him for keeping what they had done a secret.

He couldn't blame them for it. However rocky it was, their newfound alliance had been built on an uneasy trust. At no point had they themselves violated that trust, so it had been a betrayal for him not to tell them about the death of that janitor from the beginning.

Because in spite of his best efforts, Mike had found kinship with those silly, ominous robotic animals.

His eyes snapped open at the sound of a loud knocking. Getting up, he knew exactly where it was coming from.

Silently, he stepped out into the dark hallway and up towards the dining hall. He passed Bonnie in the supply closet, Chica patrolling the other side of the dining hall near the restrooms, and Foxy hiding in his cove. Freddy, who stood on his stage, gave him a nod.

Inhaling deeply, Mike went to the front door of the pizzeria, where he saw two figures standing in the darkness and the rain, and opened the door.

It was a ghost he saw that night. There was no other way to describe the man who stood there, shallow and stricken under that trench coat, suit, and tie. His figure, before stoic and lean, seemed crinkled. His skin had become paler and those brown eyes were slightly bloodshot.

It almost took Mike some time to accept that the man who was standing there in front of him was Detective Caine himself.

"Mike," Caine croaked, his voice painful.

Hesitant, Mike nodded, "Detective."

The man who was standing to Caine's side seemed familiar. Immediately remembering him as Caine's accomplice in the break-in, Carl, Mike gave another nod to the man. He ignored it.

"May we come in?" Caine asked unsteadily, "There are a few things we need to discuss."

Even had he wanted to say no, Mike knew he didn't have much of a choice. "Of course. Make yourselves at home."

As Caine stepped into the pizzeria, Mike caught a better look at him. Had he not been standing there in front of Mike, it would have been easy to assume he was still at death's door. His leg, noticeably wobbly, was supported by a brace. Glancing at the empty arm of his trench coat, Mike realized the detective's own arm was in a sling.

It seemed like Caine had just got out of the hospital bed.

Biting his lip, Mike asked, "Are…are you okay, Detective?"

Caine stopped and looked at him, almost like he was fishing for an answer. "No. Not particularly."

"The animatronics," Mike tried to explain, "they…they didn't—"

"Spare me the excuses," Caine bitterly said before being wracked by a couple, painful coughs, "I'd rather hear them from those four."

With that, Caine walked through the entry hall towards the main part of the building, a slight limp following him. By his side, Carl seemed somewhat jumpy. Mike couldn't exactly blame either of them for their mood; the last time they were in this building, they both very nearly lost their lives.

Following them, Mike's mind darted around the possibilities of what was about to happen. Were the animatronics moments away from being killed? If so, why had Caine come back alone, to the place where he should have died?

Unless he wasn't alone.

Glancing out the door's faded window, Mike imagined there being squads of cars around the building. Armed gunmen, ready to bash the doors down and destroy the animatronics.

In the dining hall, Mike heard a raised voice.

"Come down here," Caine growled, "before I shoot the lot of you."

"Detective," Freddy's own voice responded, sounding surprised, "we can explain everything—"

Mike didn't know what look Caine shot at the bear, but he could tell it wasn't a friendly gesture. "I don't really care for your excuses. So come down here. Now."

As Mike entered the dining hall, he was greeted by the image of the animatronics sheepishly walking down their stage like a rabble of nervous children waiting to be told off. Biting his lip, Mike pondered on whether he would interfere but decided against it. The last thing the animatronics needed was for him to cause them more problems.

"Detective," Freddy once again tried to explain, "it was all me. All of it. The plan to interrogate you. The ambush. The killing of the janitor. The others only went along with it because I forced them to. Please, you only need to punish me."

Caine stared hard at the animatronics, his eyes flickering towards Foxy who had just left his cove. As if expecting an ambush. For the longest time, Mike had expected Caine to simply withdraw his pistol and shoot the bear right there and then.

Instead, with a noticeable twinge of pain, he relaxed and gave a bitter smirk.

"It's your lucky day." He practically sneered, "because my superiors have decided that for now, the four of you are assets better left walking."

Furrowing his brow, Mike looked at the detective, "What? How can they just…decide to do that?!"

"I don't know," Caine shrugged, "but they're more interested in putting a permanent end to the things happening in Freddy's rather than delivering well-deserved justice."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. The lot of you were bloody close to having your heads blown off. That's why it's taken so long for them to make a decision; they were too busy authorizing the SoD."

Mike blinked, "The SoD?"

"Apologies, the 'Sword of Damocles'. A countermeasure was put in place to ensure that this building remains…secure. Or, at least, it will ensure if in the case containment is breached, that nothing gets out alive."

His mind becoming increasingly numb at what Caine was saying, Mike blinked, "I…I still don't follow."

Giving an irritable sigh, Caine winced slightly, "You know what Nuclear Deterrent is, right?"

"Well…yeah. It's a sort of understanding between countries with an arsenal that if one used anything from that arsenal, it would lead to a global nuclear event."

In response to that answer, Caine gave Mike a wry smile.

"You're…" Mike narrowed his eyes, "You're not seriously saying you're dropping an Atom Bomb on us?"

"Oh no, nothing so barbaric," Caine explained, "It's just an understanding that if at any point my superiors feel that containment is breached, they will use the full extent of their power to wipe out any hostiles within that containment area."

"So…" Freddy spoke up, clearly unsure of what was being said, "You're saying that if something were to happen where we were an undeniable threat, the Police would come and kill us?"

Caine shrugged, not looking at Freddy, "Something like that, yep. Of course, if it was up to me, you wouldn't even be getting this warning."

Glowering at him, Freddy shot back, "I did take you as the 'Shoot first, ask questions later' type. I guess I should trust my instinct more."

"I guess we share something in common, then. Perhaps had I just shot you on arrival, a man wouldn't be dead."

"Okay," Mike interrupted, "I think we all need to calm down."

"Bosun," Foxy urged the bear, "the lad speaks true. Let the landlubber speak an' he can be on his way."

"No," Freddy spoke quietly, "I want him to finish what he has to say."

Shrugging once again, Caine said, "Not much else to say. I know a killer when I see one. I read each one of you like a book the moment I walked in two months ago."

Glaring at him, Mike held his hand out, "That's enough, Caine!"

"Not nearly enough," Carl, who had been quiet the whole time, mumbled.

"Said the pot," Freddy hissed, "to the kettle."

Looking bemused, Caine grinned at the bear, "Oh?"

"You think me so naïve, Detective? The difference between me and you is that I've only killed out of ignorance. But you?"

Caine didn't speak.

"I could see it in your eyes when I first met you. This sort of thing is where you excel at. The violence. You may go on and on about the body count we've left in our wake, but what about yours?"

Silence.

"The difference between me and you," Freddy continued, scaring Mike than he had ever before, "is that we're killers out of ignorance."

"Aye," Caine finally spoke up, "you got me. I've probably left mores bodies on the ground than all of you combined. But you're wrong about the difference between us. The difference between us is that I only kill those who had it coming. You? You're a serial killer."

"And I can promise, you this; by the time my superiors are done playing their game, I'm putting the four of you down myself—"

Before Mike could even comprehend the speed of it, Freddy had lunged at the detective, his giant hand around his throat.

Pinning him against the wall, Freddy brought his face as close to the detective's own as possible, "You do not threaten my family in our home."

In spite of the pain in his face, Caine croaked back, "It's not a threat. It's a promise."

It took Mike a second to see that Carl, who had backed away enough to keep his eyes on each of the animatronics, had his pistol's sights set on Freddy.

"Let him go," Carl gritted his teeth, "right now."

"Put the flintlock down, boy," Foxy growled, ready to lunge at Carl, "before ye get yaself hurt."

"No," Caine responded, "I think he's fine the way he is."

Glancing back at Caine, Mike saw the gun he'd pulled out of his suit jacket pointing at the fox. Bonnie and Chica had backed away, looking distraught at what was happening.

Things had quickly escalated into a Mexican Standoff and Mike wasn't sure who was going to make it out alive.

"Freddy," Mike spoke up, trying to keep the pleading out of his tone, "let him go."

"Why?" Freddy answered, "He just told us he's going to kill us all. It doesn't matter what we do now. We're just monsters, in their eyes."

"Exactly," Mike pressed on, "in their eyes. Because they don't know who you really are! It's like you said two months ago! Our only way forward is to show people the truth!"

"It's too late for that," Freddy mumbled.

"I don't believe that. Back in August, I was planning on killing you all myself. I thought you were monsters that needed to be slain. I was wrong."

Freddy didn't say anything. Neither the bear nor the Detective separated the eye contact between themselves.

"I believe in you, even if you don't. So I'm asking you here when I say that I'm on your side here," Mike felt his body shaking, "believe in me."

At first, Freddy didn't respond. He simply kept his glare up towards Caine. Then, with a sigh, he let his grip go. Caine fell back against the wall, clutching his chest with his one good arm. Without even so much as a second glance towards the detective, Freddy turned around and walked away.

Hesitant, the other animatronics followed suit. One by one, they wandered off into the darkness of the pizzeria.

As Caine readjusted his tie, Carl gave him a look, "We finished here?"

"Not quite yet."

"Alright. Well, if you don't need me, I'd prefer to get off."

Caine gave an understanding nod, "Sokolov's waiting for me outside, so I should be fine. We'll catch up later."

With that, Carl left the building, leaving both Mike and Caine standing awkwardly alone. Considering leaving himself, Mike began to walk away when Caine called him.

"Not you," Caine stated, "I still need some words with you."

Narrowing his eyes, Mike nodded, "Alright."

The two of them sat down at one of the tables. Getting a better look at the wounded detective, Mike couldn't help but speak his mind.

"Are you sure you should be up and about?"

Caine snorted, "Jesus; you, Sam, and Sanders? I've been in a medically-induced coma for the last three weeks. The last thing I need is to have more bloody bed rest."

"Ok," Mike responded dumbly, "and who's Sanders?"

"My boss."

"Ah."

Looking at him, Caine seemed to work out what Mike was seeking to ask. "Let me guess. You have questions?"

"Well, yeah."

"Tell you what; we'll trade. I ask you something, you get an answer back."

"Alright." Mike pondered on what question to ask first, "Where's the Day Guard?"

"With us," Caine answered, "under lockdown. The last thing we need is for some pompous kid to start running around telling people about the animatronics. We can't really do with a containment breach."

"This can't be legal," Mike said exasperated,

"Good thing for us, legalities aren't black and white. I sense you have another question, but once again, trade. Did the animatronics go after you?"

"No," Mike said immediately, "By the time I arrived, they'd had their memories wiped. Didn't even know they killed someone until they caught me trying to clean up the mess."

"Okay," Caine seemed a little surprised to know of Mike's attempt to conceal what they'd done, "that's good. It means it was an isolated incident, indeed. My superiors will like that."

"'Your superiors'," Mike repeated, "You keep referring to them like that."

Despite himself, Caine smirked, "You already know the answer to that question you were going to ask, weren't you?"

"I'd like to hear it, all the same."

"Very well. I was never sent by the Police. Never even been employed by them. The whole 'Department sent me' story was just a cover to avoid any unwanted questions."

Closing his eyes, Mike breathed in, "Then who sent you? Are you Private?"

"No, nothing like that. Well, maybe a little. I'm an agent of a shadow organization that works outside the law. We solve problems that those blocked by laws can't."

"So, what?" Mike asked, "You're FBI? CIA?"

"Neither, but we've worked with both in the past. We're international. We solve problems. Since I've probably told you too much here, I guess a name won't hurt. To you, I guess you can call us the Crucible."

The name didn't ring any bells, but Mike doubted that any attempt at research would get him anywhere. "Okay."

"What happened to the body of the janitor?" Caine immediately asked,

Biting his lip, Mike shrugged, "Unless the family reports him as missing, Fazbear Entertainment usually files a report after a couple of months. Ninety days, max."

"That didn't answer the question."

"I don't know exactly where they're taken. I've heard some rumors that there's a mass grave out in the forest, but I went there a week ago and couldn't find anything."

Caine nodded, "Sounds like Fazbear's covering their tracks."

"Could be. Why did you almost get yourself killed?"

Raising his eyebrow, Caine replied, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"If you hadn't said anything, the animatronics wouldn't have gone for you second. How was that worth taking the risk? You could've just saved the day guard, same as how Carl saved you."

Caine didn't respond at first, before asking him, "Do you know what a Pacemaker is?"

"Kind of. Why?"

Caine looked at him.

"Wait, really?"

"All agents of the Crucible have them," Caine explained, "in case of emergency. Specially designed for our services. The moment I started losing blood, I was pinged. The moment Carl dragged me out of that pizzeria, our boys has just arrived with back-up."

"Then they were able to get you to the hospital," Mike summarised.

"Exactly," Caine explained, "if it hadn't been for Carl and the backup squad, I wouldn't have made it. Even then, the last month was…iffy. But my organization learns and it means the next time something like this happens, we'll be prepared."

"So something like this must've happened before," Mike stated.

Caine didn't respond.

"You knew as soon as you walked in the first time what the animatronics had done."

Standing up, Caine walked to the front door. As he pulled on the trench coat again, he started speaking once again.

"Five years ago, my organization made first contact with Fazbear Entertainment and their atrocities. We found a warehouse and we made a breach. It was just meant to be a Recon exercise, low risk. We ran into something much more than we'd planned for."

"Six agents entered that warehouse. Only one made it out. He only did so, because another agent sacrificed themselves to save them."

"I lost my partner, mentor, and best friend that day," Caine gave one last look towards Mike before he stepped out of the door, "and under my supervision, a civilian died in this very building. No more. This is the last chance I'm giving. If something like this happens again, I'm burning this place to the ground."

With that, Caine stepped out into the rain. Through the fog, Mike saw a black car in the street, waiting for him.

Standing there alone in the darkness, Mike closed his eyes. He knew that there was no happiness to be had. No joy to be sought. But for Mike Schmidt, it had never been any different.

As Mike walked away, back to the safety of his security office, he didn't feel the presence hovering over him. Didn't see that golden dust flickering in the faint lights of the pizzeria.

Golden Freddy lurked there in the shadows, watching his every move. Then, as quickly as it appeared, vanished without a trace.

Well, that's the end of it. An almost six-month-long journey for me, since I had done a lot of planning before getting down and writing this. Just a bit of advice in case anyone reading this is wanting to write something themselves; always plan ahead. You'd be surprised how much better it turns out.

I just want to thank each one of you who has taken the time to read my story. It feels like I've overcome an obstacle that had plagued me for over five years, now. That wouldn't have been possible had it not been for you guys.

Now, as for the next story; I've already started planning it out. It'll take some time though, so you might have to wait at least a month for it to come. It will arrive soon, though; don't lose faith in that.

vaetta: I'm glad. Because when the next story comes out, things are going to become escalated even further.

TheAmberShadow: Garfield's motives are certainly unusual. They will, of course, be elaborated at some point.

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: It certainly would be. But I'm not sure if Fazbear Entertainment will go down so easily. You're on the money about Golden Freddy, though really, whoever understood that, in Mike's swords, Nightmare Christmas Caroler? Either way, whatever happens next, I don't think Fazbear Entertainment can afford another death.

With that, I bid you all adieu.