Author's note: Wooo! The story is sooo close to being wrapped up :D. This is sort of short word-count wise, but is a very fulfilling chapter. Also… When it comes to recent real-life events, I wish all fellow minority fans of Fnaf a very "I'm sorry." q-q…
*crying child voice* "Why mister Cawthon?"
Please don't come at me… I'm very friendly, and don't want to talk politics on the internet
1:45 AM65 percent
The first thing Scott registered was the pain in his head.
The second thing he registered was… again, the pain in his head. And also the smell of pizza.
It was overwhelming, and Scott was sure he would have vomited if there was anything in his stomach. Even then, he gagged harshly, eyes squeezed shut from the pain.
The sharp, throbbing pain increased as he shifted, and Scott decided that not moving was a good idea, no, a great idea.
He lay there on the floor, and slowly, foggily, realized something. Concerningly, he couldn't remember where he was, or how he had come to be in such a position.
Scott managed to peel his eyes open, the world blurring and tilting around him. His hand was laid out in front of him, limply resting against the checkerboard floor.
Checker floor… This was important, or at least he thought it was.
Maybe.
A name danced on the top of his tongue, but the bitter taste of bile and coppery blood that coated his mouth wouldn't let the thought register.
Scott thought that maybe he should try to move again. The floor was not every comfortable and his head hurt and even with his cotton filled head, the man decided that he felt unsafe in this place.
Very unsafe…
His double vision went in and out of focus, rendering Scott practically blind as he prodded his head.
His hand came away warm and wet.
Oh, that wasn't good.
Another wave of pain, and Scott forced himself into a sitting position.
###
Fritz made a mental tally of the situation. On a scale of one to ten, how badly was the night going?
Anamatronics?
Well, Freddy, Bonnie, and, presumably Chica were all pretty beaten up, and out of commission (If he makes it through the night Fritz pretty sure the manager will just finish him off…).
Foxy seemed to be okay, but perhaps that wasn't comforting, given Mike's earlier entrance to pirate cove… and his not coming back out.
People?
Mike: in pirate cove, maybe dead. Scott: MIA (and Fritz isn't putting any bets on him still being… never-mind). Fritz: Well, that's him. Intruder: He has an axe and knows how to use it…
Fritz rated the situation as a solid 10, or he would have, had his hysteria driven musings not been cut off by the sound of Foxy's rabid screech.
The intruder barely had time to shield his face with his left arm, and Fritz's eyes glazed over as mechanical jaw met pale, human flesh.
###
Mike watched Foxy clamp down on the purple man's arm, and silently, almost detachedly, thanked Scott for tightening Foxy's jaw.
"Thanks you crazy man… You might just have saved our asses."
Foxy was winning.
The fox was winning, and the blazing black eyes set in his metal skull were filled with determination.
His teeth sunk deep into the purple man's arm, and the intruder keened in pain. Blood filled Foxy's mouth, dribbling onto his chest, staining his fur.
The purple man went limp, and Foxy had won.
After years of kiddie stabbing, William was a good actor. Foxy's head rolled across the floor like a half deflated balloon, dusty and discarded after the day's last birthday party.
###
His arm hurt. That was an understatement… But the adrenaline numbed it somewhat, and William wasn't complaining. He could still use it somewhat, and even then, he was right handed, so using his axe wasn't a problem.
He grabbed a part of the nearest tablecloth, fingers leaving bloody smudges on the fabric as he lined up his axe.
With a satisfying rip, a strip of pattered fabric was in William's hand, and then, setting his axe on the table, he wound the fabric around his arm.
William didn't whimper (he would never do something so childish), but a strangled sound did rip itself from his throat as he tied the makeshift bandage.
Mike decided this was the perfect time to leap from Pirate Cove.
He dove onto the intruder, ice blue eyes wide with anger and adrenaline as he swung at William's bad arm.
William twisted at the last moment, and Mike's fist crashed into the tile.
He grunted in pain.
William took this as an opportunity to worm out of Mike's grasp.
He snatched his axe, but Mike was already up, swinging wildly at William. The purple man tore down the righthand hall, trailing blood as bandages soaked through.
There's only so fast a person with a limp can go.
Mike caught up fast.
William was slammed against the wall, axe swinging backwards with momentum, crashing handle-first into the wallpaper.
The false wall gave way, and William fell backwards into the safe room.