Prologue – It's Me

Behind the color-stained glass doors lay an abyss. Thoughtfully, the man in his purple jumpsuit placed the key he had been given by his employers and pushed them open. They swung too perfectly, the tell-tale sign of their infancy, and into the dark halls of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza the man pressed on.

Finding himself in the main dining area, his eyes set on the band themselves. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica stood there, metallic statues. The sight of them unnerved him, but after finding himself staring for too long, he shook his head at the thoughts that swirled within. He wasn't being paid to stand around.

The white-tiled floor led him to his destination. Posters lined the walls, telling stories of old and what was to come. A part of him felt sympathy for whoever must have been given the job to market the Freddy's name, especially after all these years.

As he rounded the corner, the sight of a large metal door the color of refined granite hung slightly open. Frowning, he thought about whether he should close the door, safety hazard and all. But between the crack between the door and frame lay an abyss from which no light escaped.

However childish it was, the idea of something grabbing him from the abyss as he went to close the door made him decide against it.

Looking the other way, he found himself at the end of a large hallway that was connected to several rooms. At the far back was the only room that was fully lit, where a steel desk stood. Shrugging, he walked towards the light, glancing at the darkness of the side rooms. As far as he could tell, he was the only person here.

Even though he knew how crazy it sounded in his head, something had felt off the moment he had stepped into the building. He had been told that he would be the only employee there during the night, but in spite of the darkness, the lifeless animatronics, and the badge on his chest that read "Security Guard", the last thing he had felt when he walked in was alone.

As he reached the room he believed would be his office for the time being, he looked around. Two unopened vents, big enough for him to easily drop down to his hands and knees to crawl into, lay on either side of the room. Hanging from the ceiling was a circular light, a yellow light bulb dimly lit. TVs and Monitors sat in the corners of the room, though their use was unknown to him.

A sudden shudder through the building made his heart jump. Looking behind him, he saw the few lights outside his office flicker off. Remembering what they had said about 'Night Power' during the contract signing, he calmed his nerves and looked at his watch.

Midnight.

When the phone started to ring, he narrowed his eyes. He hated phone calls. Always had. It was his duty as the only acting member of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza during the night to answer, however, so he picked up the phone.

"Hello?" He said dumbly, "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello?" The voice spoke, making him blink in confusion, "Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job, at the new and improved, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Quickly understanding what this meant, he sat down to continue listening, only just noticing the small mask on the desk that was reminiscent of Freddy. He shook his head at the 'Summer' part of that pitch. When he'd inquired about it, they'd told him that Fazbear Entertainment considered Fall to simply be 'late summer'.

"Uh, I'm here to talk you through some of the things you can expect to see during your first week here and to help you get started down this new and exciting career path."

The message was pre-recorded, though he knew the voice on the other end. It was his hiring manager, but he couldn't remember the name. They had mentioned that they'd leave a message for him every night, to quickly update him on any changes and would hopefully provide some amount of training.

"Uh, now, I want you to forget anything you may have heard about the old location, you know. Uh, some people still have a somewhat negative impression of the company. Uh... that old restaurant was kind of left to rot for quite a while, but I want to reassure you, Fazbear Entertainment is committed to family fun and above all, safety."

Spencer. That was his name. His first name, anyway. He was maybe ten or twenty years older, though he seemed rather experienced. Upon the mention of the older restaurant, he nodded in agreement. With all the urban legends that had been circling around, it was surprising they'd even managed to convince someone to finance the resurrection of Fazbear Entertainment.

"They've spent a small fortune on these new animatronics. Uh, facial recognition, advanced mobility, they even let them walk around during the day. Isn't that neat? But most importantly, they're all tied into some kind of criminal database, so they can detect a predator a mile away. Heck, we should be paying them to guard you."

Snorting at that, he leaned back in his chair. Though he liked the idea that he would have a group of terminator-like robots dressed as animals protecting his body, he rather liked being paid for his work.

"Uh, now that being said, no new system is without its... kinks. Uh... you're only the second guard to work at that location. Uh, the first guy finished his week but complained about... conditions. Uh, we switched him over to the day shift. So hey, lucky you, right?"

He blinked. At no point had his predecessor been mentioned during the interview. Considering the short amount of time the new pizzeria had been up and running, a high turnover rate so early on was the last thing that would get people's interest.

"Uh, mainly he expressed concern that certain characters seemed to move around at night and even attempted to get into his office. Now, from what we know, that should be impossible. Uh, that restaurant should be the safest place on Earth."

Though he felt foolish for doing so, he switched on the laptop on the desk and started looking through the cameras. Whether or not this was simply an elaborate prank meant to rustle his edge, the last thing he needed was for something to sneak up on him.

"So while our engineers don't really have an explanation for this, the working theory is that... the robots were never given a proper "night mode". So when it gets quiet, they think they're in the wrong room. So then they go try to find where the people are, and in this case, that's your office."

He shook his head in exasperation. How could they not know what they had or hadn't put in the robots they'd just built?

"So our temporary solution is this: there's a music box over by the Prize Counter, and it's rigged to be wound up remotely. So just, every once in a while, switch over to the Prize Counter video feed and wind it up for a few seconds."

With a scowl on his face, he was starting to regret this decision. It didn't sound like it was a difficult little chore he would have to do every once in a while, but still. It seemed so…inefficient.

"It doesn't seem to affect all of the animatronics, but it does affect... one of them."

"Yep," He said dryly, "inefficient is the right word."

"Uh, and as for the rest of them, we have an even easier solution. You see, there may be a minor glitch in the system, something about robots seeing you as an endoskeleton without its costume on, and wanting to stuff you into a suit... So hey, we've given you... an empty Freddy Fazbear head!"

At first, the first part had gone over his head. This whole thing seemed like such a joke. A bad joke, of which the punchline was quickly drifting away like his interest in renewing his contract after his week was up.

"Problem solved! You can put it on anytime, and leave it on for as long as you want. Eventually, anything that wandered in, will wander back out."

"Uh, something else worth mentioning is kind of the quirky modern design of the building. You may have noticed there are no doors for you to close, heh. Uh, but hey, you have a light! And even though your flashlight can run out of power, the building cannot. So, don't worry about the place going dark."

"There's, like, two lights on!" He whined though he liked the fact he had a flashlight. Perhaps he could hit one of the animatronics on the head if they tried to 'stuff him'?

"Well, I think that's it. Uh, you should be golden. Uh, check the lights, put on the Freddy head if you need to, uh, keep the music box wound up, piece of cake. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Shaking his head as the phone call ended, he pondered on whether he should just walk out. The joke had quickly gotten stale and if this was going to be a common thing in Freddy's, he'd prefer just to cut out the middle man.

Picking his hat off from the desk and placing it back on his crown, Jeremy Fitzgerald gave a sheepish smile. "How bad can it really be?"

7 Years, 3 Days, and 59 Minutes Later…

The graphite pencil in his hand was chipped. After tossing it in the bin, another victim of his anxious tapping onto the paper laying on his desk, Mike started to read the words that he had written down.

I am…unsure.

It was one of the practices his doctor had recommended to him, in the weeks they had been in contact. Dr. Jenkins was his name. Ever since that night back in August, when he had brought those guns in to finish off the animatronics, Dr. Jenkins hadn't decided to simply withdraw his support offered and Mike had seen no point in refusing it.

I am…worried.

Just about three months, it had been. Things had changed. Back then, he had thought himself to be unhindered. When he had formed that plan to get his revenge, he knew it would either end up with him dead or in jail. Somehow, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, neither had happened. His former enemies, the boogeymen that had haunted his every dream ever since he first stepped into Freddy's, now stood as his allies. His companions.

Dare he say it? His friends.

I am…anxious.

If he had the chance to tell himself back then of what was to come, of the new enemies he would pick up if he dared do what he had done, he would have laughed in his own face. Government agents? Shadow Organisations? Noire-like detectives? It was crazy.

Now, rather than worrying about whether or not he would find himself in an oversized bear costume, he was cautiously watching the doors, thinking that at any moment someone would come in. Be it Caine, who had barely survived his ordeal back in September, or someone else.

He was no longer dealing with robots or spirits or even morally-taxing businesses with less of a skeleton in their closet and more like a mass grave in their backyard. He was no longer dealing with a pirate fox running for his door, a six-and-a-half-foot bear waiting for his power to run out or even a teleporting relic.

Somehow, what he was dealing with now was less-believable. Maybe it was simply because he had become used to what happened at Freddy Fazbear's, but the last thing he needed was the notion that he'd become desensitized to it.

I am…scared.

It was that word that had been circling in his head. 'Crucible', Caine had called them. No research he had taken had provided any leads, apart from a few old newspapers dating a hundred years back about an oil crisis.

Exactly what they were planning was a mystery, but one thing was certain; Fazbear Entertainment's head had a special place planned on their wall. On one hand, Mike should've been thankful for that. If there was any business that deserved to be dragged through the mud, Fazbear Entertainment would be on the list.

But of course, it wasn't that simple. Though Mike could argue that anyone who remained complicit in what Fazbear Entertainment had done deserved to be on the chopping block, wouldn't that mean he would be one of them? What about Wilson, the janitor? It may have been poetic that after so many bodies cleaned up by old Wilson, he had ended up as one of them.

It was far from justice, however.

Neither were the animatronics suffering from it justice, in Mike's opinion. They had been kept in the dark—if not by Fazbear Entertainment, then by someone. Perhaps their own deaths would be 'justice' in someone else's point of view, but it was no longer in his.

Frowning, he flicked on the cameras and found the animatronics doing their usual thing. The idea of the animatronics turning on him had passed him by, to the point where he didn't even think about that possibility. A few times, Mike had brought out an old chessboard he'd discovered in the cupboard in his office. As It turned out, Freddy was a damn good player.

Picking himself up from his swivel seat, Mike left his office. He noted how the place had gotten cleaner over the last few weeks; it seemed that Bonnie had kept himself busy with that broom and feather duster they'd found in the supply closet.

Freddy was wandering between the tables in the dining hall when Mike entered. Tilting his head downwards slightly, Mike recognized that as him giving a greeting smile.

"How are you doing, Michael?"

Giving a small shrug, Mike crossed his arms, "Out of pencils."

"Ah. Perhaps it's time to invest in a pen?"

"Most I have to deal with using the pencils is cleaning up graphite. Can you imagine the ink?"

Freddy hesitated, "That…is a valid point."

Sitting down on one of the chairs, Mike glanced towards the front door. Every time he did so, he half expected to see that tell-tale silhouette standing outside, watching. Waiting.

"You seem worried," Freddy noted,

With a small snort, Mike replied, "Well, isn't everyone?"

"I remind myself of the positives."

"Like what?" Mike said miserably,

Giving a sad look, Freddy's voice remained hopeful, "That I still have my family by my side and we still have someone who believes in us."

Mike looked at him, but couldn't keep eye contact. Though the bear had realized it was pointless, his continued attempts to convince the Night Guard to leave, to save himself, had all been received with the same answer.

They both saw him at the same time. Stepping quickly from the parking lot to the front door. Right up against the windowpane of the front doors was Detective Caine, an expectant look on his face. He didn't even need to knock; it was clear he could see the two of them.

"One of these days," Freddy spoke quietly, "I hope playing doorman to someone who wants us dead won't be a necessity."

"That would be the day," Mike murmured as he walked away from Freddy, taking his time reaching the door. Whether they liked it or not, their best hope in living longer was by playing nice to the detective.

Upon reaching the door, Mike kept his eyes on Caine, who returned the skeptical look with a passiveness. As he swung the door open, he gave a nod.

"Caine."

"Mike," The detective responded, waiting for something. Quickly realizing what it was, Mike gestured a sign of 'come on in'. Unless his plan was to break in, Caine seemed to prefer asking for permission before entering a building.

"How are you doing?" Mike asked, his voice teetering between pleasant and condescending.

Twisting his arm in a stretch motion, Caine shrugged, "I could be doing better. Still on the mend. Not sure how long it's going to take. There isn't exactly some other poor sod who got stuffed in a suit still walking around."

Not knowing how to answer that, Mike elected to stay quiet. Almost two months since that night and didn't look like he was doing any better than their last visit. At least the cast on his arm was gone.

Shaking his head, Caine mumbled, "Sorry. That sounded more bitter than I meant."

"It's alright," Mike rubbed the back of his head, "but what do you need? Looks like you came here with something on your mind."

Nodding, Caine pulled a file from his jacket and gave it to Mike.

"1987," Caine explained as the night guard started reading the file, "Years after Freddy's was closed, a mysterious new benefactor showered Fazbear Entertainment with enough funding to have a rebrand."

Mike nodded, "I remember. Lasted about…a month, right?"

"Not even," Caine snorted, "Just shy under three weeks. The Bite of '87 did in any chance Fazbear Entertainment had in keeping the place running. The building is still there."

Mike narrowed his eyes, "Where?"

"Just in the next town over. I guess they tried distancing themselves away from the place it all happened, but still close enough where people might still remember them. Either way, I'm all out of leads and time is running out."

Not understanding where Caine was going with this, Mike shrugged, "Good luck, then."

Glancing back at him, Caine said, "Carl has decided to take a step back from the case. After what happened. I can do this alone, of course, but…"

So that was what he wanted. Why he seemed a bit more diplomatic than usual.

"So you want me to come with you on a Fazbear Treasure Hunt of Misdemeanours?"

"Yes," Caine answered plainly, "and in return, I can offer you something you may find useful."

Reaching into his coat pocket once more, Caine passed the piece of paper to Mike. Glancing over the details, Mike frowned.

"If you do this for us, we will wipe the slate clean." Caine said, "It will be as if you never worked for Freddy's. We can get you somewhere else, far from the reach of Fazbear Entertainment. You'll get a new chance at life."

"And the animatronics?" Mike asked quietly,

Looking away, Caine crossed his arms, "Any evidence will be wiped, including the shooting and everything after. We can also offer you a cash sum that will help you get back on your feet. This is a valuable opportunity, Mike."

"And the animatronics?" Mike repeated, this time more forcefully, "What will they get?"

"Even if I wanted them spared," Caine gritted his teeth, "My hands are tied. Once their usefulness is at an end, we'll let the authorities take it from there."

"So you're asking me to betray them, hand them over to you on a silver platter," Mike scowled, "and you expect me to thank you for it?"

"No," Caine kept his voice low, "I'm expecting you to take the deal and spare your own life. The animatronics are done for, Mike. The only reason they still live is that the Crucible believes they're more valuable like that."

Shaking his head, Mike looked down at the paper, "What about Fazbear Entertainment?"

"They'll be crippled if the investigation goes right. The mass graves, the cover-ups…it's all coming together. They're not going to wriggle their way out of this one."

"Either way, Mike, this all comes to an end very soon. If it's not me, then it's the guy after me. You've got two options: Take the deal, help me out, and by next summer, you'll be sitting on a beach in Miami, Los Angeles, or wherever you want to go."

"Or?" Mike inquired,

"Or don't. You won't be the target, but I can't guarantee you won't get caught in the crossfire. Fazbear Entertainment will be out for blood and the authorities will be looking for anyone associated with them."

Not saying anything at first, Mike felt his head thumping. He'd very much found himself caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Can I talk to the animatronics first?" Mike asked him,

Glancing at him, Caine nodded, "Feel free. But I'm leaving in five minutes."

Turning away from him, Mike walked away to find the animatronics. He had no idea how they were going to take this news, nor the fact that taking it was even being considered an option. After what they'd gone through, how could he even think of betraying them to save his own skin?

Rounding the corner, Mike found the animatronics gathered in the left hallway, even Foxy. They were conversing amongst themselves, but they all stopped upon seeing him.

"What did he say?" Freddy's voice was low but thoughtful.

Biting his lip, Mike carefully explained how the exchange had gone. Knowing that they were all too far into this for him to fabricate any detail even slightly, he stuck to the truth. Noticing Freddy's eyes perking up upon him mentioning the deal, the Night Guard thought the worst.

"So he wants me to help him, in return for my freedom and safety."

Closing his eyes, Bonnie slumped, "What will happen to us?"

"I don't know," Mike folded his arms, trying to keep his voice steady, "but it doesn't sound like Caine or his…employers…will interfere in whatever it is."

"How can we be sure he's telling the truth?" Chica pointed out, "Or any of them, for that matter? He could just be trying to get you incriminated."

"Yar, I agree with the lass," Foxy crowed out, "we weathered many a storm, an' we didn't last the waters by trusting sirens!"

Chica blinked, "A bit of a weird metaphor, but yes. What Foxy said."

"You should take it." Freddy finally spoke up.

They all looked at him, incredulously.

"Weren't ya listening, Fazbear?!" Foxy growled,

"I was," Freddy spoke simply, "and that doesn't change the fact that Michael should take the deal."

Closing his eyes, Mike shook his head. He'd had a feeling that Freddy was going to say just that.

"But…" Chica cried out, "They could be luring Mike into a trap!"

"No." Freddy explained, "I hate that man more than anyone in this building, but I don't see him being a liar. He risked his life to save that poor man I was moments away from killing…"

Freddy stopped suddenly, glancing at his oversized hands. Mike realized they were shaking.

"I don't think he's lying to me," Mike admitted, "but that's not the problem. If I help them with their investigation, then anything that happens to you guys…"

"Will not be your fault," Freddy spoke up again, "because everything we've done is on our heads. Not yours."

They all stood in silence, not being able to look at each other.

"Three months ago, I was wanting you all dead," Mike began, "but now I stand here, willing to fight for you."

"Of course," Freddy replied thankfully, though not understanding his point.

"So," Mike continued, "what if I could make Caine see what I've seen?"

They all stared at him.

"Ye gonna convince tha' landlubber to spare us?" Foxy slightly smiled, unsure if Mike was serious.

"Maybe."

"I don't think he's the type to be reasoned with," Chica said earnestly,

"Neither was I."

"But what if you can't?" Bonnie said sullenly,

"If I can't, I'll go steal a truck, crash it through the wall, load the four of you up in it, and we'll drive up north."

"If you get hurt doing this…" Freddy mumbled,

Mike gave an unsteady smile, "I'm not so easy to kill, Freddy."

Moments later, Mike was carrying his stuff and walking alongside Caine to the front door. He glanced back towards the animatronics, who were watching him from the shadows.

"We'll have to be back before dawn," Mike said as he stepped out with Caine, "because if I don't clock out…"

"Don't worry about that," Caine replied, "Carl put a feedback loop on the camera systems. No one will know you weren't there."

They reached the lone car in the parking lot and opened the doors.

"He agreed to it?" Carl asked from the driver's seat,

"Aye," Caine answered.

Blinking, Mike looked at them both, "Thought you said he'd taken a step back?"

"He has," Caine replied, "he won't be coming in with us."

"But someone has to drive the car, and this dude's not got a license."

"You don't know how to drive?" Mike raised an eyebrow at Caine.

Caine grunted, "No, it's just I don't have a license."

"What he means to say," Carl explained, "is he was banned by the Crucible from driving himself because he kept forgetting that we drive on the right side of the road."

"I was born in Scotland," Caine scowled, "and I trained in Australia. Forgive me for not remembering you Americans drive on the wrong side of the road."

Mike frowned, "Don't, like, sixty percent of countries in the world drive on the right side?"

"Yeah," Carl laughed, "and Mr. International here still can't drive himself!"

"Have you ever been outside the US?" Caine pointed out,

"Well, no, but…"

"Because I've been to all of those countries."

"Still can't drive."

"Just…" Caine sighed, "Go."

Slowly, like a stroke of moonlight, the car drifted out of the parking lot.

Meanwhile…

He was in the outskirts, standing beside his car on a large hill. The town he watched slept as his plan finally started to come together.

Lighting the cigarette, Gregor Henshaw pondered on what would come afterward. If he survived the events that were soon to happen. Even if he did, he knew what this would cause; but if getting his revenge meant burning a few bridges, he was willing to accept it.

Garfield had come through with the information. He'd been given camera footage, a license plate, and any known associates. It all felt far too coincidental, but the moment he'd seen his face in that footage, it became undeniable.

Caine was here, in this town. Looking into Fazbear Entertainment.

Of course, it wasn't Fazbear Entertainment he feared. It was the people Caine worked for, the Crucible, that he was going to damage, especially if the heist worked out in their favor. If killing their agent and robbing them didn't put Gregor and his henchmen on a hit list, it would be surprising.

He remembered sitting there in that bar two weeks after the raid on the Fuego Verde's airstrip, in which they lost over a hundred men, including Gregor's brother and co-leader, Jacob. It all seemed too perfect as if she had been watching them.

She'd simply given the name of Caroline, telling them that the two people who were responsible were named Caine and Young. As far as Gregor was concerned, Young wasn't a priority. His time would come, but it was Caine that needed to die.

Even if that wasn't what he told the remaining members of his gang. They believed they would simply be capturing Caine to use him for the heist.

Headlights illuminated the area and he turned to see a car park up next to his. Stepping out, his henchman gave him an acknowledging nod as he walked up to join him.

"Status?" Gregor asked him, straight to the point.

"He's on the move," Victor told him, "with Young and Schmidt to boot. They're leaving town, by the looks of it."

That was unexpected. Had they caught on that they were being followed? Garfield had given them Schmidt's name, but he'd been very clear that he was not to be harmed. Besides, as Gregor reflected, he would be more useful still breathing. Once they'd caught Caine, well…

"What's your orders?" Victor asked him, looking urgent. It was understandable. This entire operation had taken pinpoint accuracy and to ruin all the planning they had taken through one moment of hesitation or one impulsive move would not work out in their favor.

"We wait," Gregor said with conviction, "until they're out in the open. Until they least expect it. Are the others ready?"

"Yeah, they wait for your word."

"Tell them that it happens in a week. Next week, we shall avenge our fallen brothers. On the lunar eclipse, friend, we strike."

Looking at him strangely, Victor gave a hesitant nod before leaving. His car pulled away, a courier delivering his message of death to those who didn't know any better.

On one hand, Gregor felt guilty about deceiving them. They had followed him, six months before, with the intentions of getting themselves financially set after the fall of the Fuego Verde. As far as they were aware, this plan would net them a one-way ticket to a score of the likes they had never seen before.

The truth was, Gregor Henshaw couldn't care less about the money. That wasn't what drove him to pull the remaining seven gang members together in one last bid to capture the glory days. The Fuego Verde was dead. It had died the day Jacob had fallen into the fire.

The only thing that drove Gregor Henshaw was the thought of what he would do to Caine once he got his hands on him. On the lunar eclipse, the last of which the remaining Fuego Verde had come together under Gregor, the blood of his brother would finally be avenged.

Throwing the cigarette to the ground, Gregor walked back to his car, got in, and silently drove away.

My many apologies for taking so long. The last few months haven't been great. I found myself jobless, for one, so I lost a lot of my motivation.

The one thing I will warn you all about is that unlike the last story, which was all pre-planned, this one hasn't got a solid plan made yet. I've got an overview already of what is going to happen, but I'll want to have it planned out before writing it.

Because of this, I'm unsure when the next update will be. Could be in a couple of weeks, could be a month. Could be longer. Either way, it will come eventually.

Reviews from the last story:

TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3: Appreciate it! This next one is going to get wild, for sure.

vaetta: And thank you for reading it! You lot make the whole thing worthwhile.