Thursday, November 11, 1993
Mike hardly registered anything as he forced his way up the stairs to quickly get to his apartment. He heard doors open and close, echoes in the stairwell, and footsteps going in and out as people on other floors started their days.
He hastened his pace, his gaze downturned.
Be as invisible as you can be.
Mike reached the fourth floor. He was about to enter the hallway when he heard someone say his name.
"Mike?"
Shit.
"Hey, Vanna," he managed, pulling the door open as an excuse to not look at her. He ignored the aching in his throat and kept his body strategically turned away from her. "Aren't you getting in a bit late?"
"I was off today, silly," Vanna said, "just like I was yesterday. I go back in tonight after midnight."
She caught up to him and gave him a playful slug.
"Don't worry. Night shift makes you lose track of time. Even I forget what day it is sometimes."
Mike nodded and peered over his shoulder to give her a quick smile. Only then did he briefly notice her green robe and the letters in her hand. He turned back to step into the flickering hallway before she could get a decent look at him. For a second, Mike saw the gray walls, drawings, and floor tiles. He quickly blinked them away as he headed for his apartment. Vanna followed. She caught up to walk beside him.
"You feeling alright, Mike?" she asked. "You don't look or sound too good."
He actually managed a smile. Her presence seemed to keep the horror back for a moment. Mike shifted slightly closer as he walked with her.
"I'm fine," he said, taking a sudden interest in sorting through his keys.
"If you say so," Vanna replied. "Work hasn't been too bad?"
Mike ignored her for a moment as he tried to figure out how to answer that.
"...Just weird dreams," he said at last. "Probably because of staring at the screen too long."
A glance up to her, another forced up smile.
"I just need to sleep."
Vanna nodded. She returned the smile and readjusted her purse over her shoulder.
"If you say s-"
When she looked back at him, her eyes widened a bit, pinpointed down at his collar. Mike already felt his blood run cold, the gears turning in his head for an explanation.
"Holy shit," Vanna said. "What happened to your neck?"
"A-accident," he said, going with the first thing that came to mind. "I, uh...tripped."
Vanna stared at him, unsure if she believed him. Mike reached a hand up to try to soothe some of the pain. Upon noticing her look of concern, he quickly continued.
"Hit the edge of a table."
Vanna reached over and gently tilted his head to get a better look. A small hiss slid through her teeth.
"Ouch," she said. "Damn, Mike. Were you trying to take your head off, or are you just spectacular at hurting yourself?"
"Go big or go home," Mike answered.
Vanna tried to hold back a laugh, snorting a bit as she let him go.
"Well, looks like you're doing both."
Her smile dropped for a moment.
"Are you sure you're okay? That doesn't look like something you just sleep off. I have some cream that might-"
"Vanna," Mike said, firmly. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it feels."
Vanna frowned, still unsure, but nodded.
"Well, keep me posted," she said softly. "Let me know if we're still on for tomorrow."
Mike quirked a brow.
"Tomorrow…?"
"Donuts, silly," Vanna reminded him. "Celebration of your first paycheck?"
Mike barely kept himself from facepalming. Of course, their planned breakfast. With everything else on his mind, he'd completely forgotten about it.
"Right, right," he said, trying not to think of tonight and what horrors it could bring. Or even if he'd survive long enough. "Sorry, I'm just-"
"Sore, exhausted," Vanna said softly. "It's okay, I get it."
She gently pulled him into a hug. Mike barely registered enough to return it.
"Get some rest, okay?" Vanna told him. "And if we need to postpone breakfast, let me know."
Mike smiled as she pulled away. He gave her a faint nod.
"Thanks, Vanna."
"And I mean it, Mike," she said, a bit more firmly as she walked to her own front door. "If something's going on, don't be afraid to tell me."
Mike just nodded. He watched her until she disappeared into her apartment. Only then did he go home himself, ready to just end tonight and start a new day.
~~~
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza boasted an unusual amount of life earlier today, especially given the place's reputation and rumors of shutting down by the end of the year. The struggling pizzeria actually had a small party booked and two or three stray families came, which meant plenty of pizza, games, excited children, and not-so-excited parents and staff trying to reign in the chaos.
Gwen Carlisle finished getting the last family out. She checked stamped hands to ensure each child left with the right adult. As the saying went here, safety was the number one concern at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, and given the place's history, policy was to be followed to the letter.
As the last guest exited the restaurant, Gwen reached up to loosen her ponytail that contained her micro-braids, mostly to relieve her throbbing head. While things quieted down considerably in the last hour, the day's sounds of the old arcade machines, laughing children, and yelling adults nearly drowning out the show took their toll. All she wanted now was to go home, take some aspirin, and pass out.
When she brought her hands down again, she caught the tips of her ebony fingers glowing under the blacklight, a side-effect of adjusting the stamp all night. With a sigh, Gwen turned to catch a quick glance of what her coworkers were up to.
Franklin Graham, one of the waiters, cleared the tables of paper plates and other debris. The other waitress, Judy Larson, headed back to the kitchen with a tray of soda pitchers. Waylon Kent had since gone into his office to do the books. Only three other members of the staff weren't in sight: the two cooks in the kitchen, and Andrew Bell, the day shift security guard.
Gwen made sure the front door was locked, then headed down the hall for the supply closet to get a broom. The janitor would be in soon, but Waylon always insisted they clear off the tables and do a sweep first. Make sure the old man could just mop up, dust, and get out before midnight.
She perked at the sound of footsteps and turned to see Andrew approaching. The man was tall and built like a linebacker, but his soft brown skin and warm face immediately made him less intimidating.
"Long day," he said. "I just got everything shut down. Need any help?"
"Nah," Gwen replied. "Just need to do a sweep."
Andrew nodded and walked with her back to the dining room.
"What a day, huh?" Franklin cheerfully asked as they got back in. He reached to brush some of his red hair out of his freckled face. "It was pretty busy for us."
"Looked like it," Andrew replied. "But nothing you guys needed me for."
"I can hardly believe people still even come here," Gwen muttered. "Or that it's still open."
"We still have a month or so," Franklin replied, taking his tray of paper plates to the nearest trash can.
He shot her a smile.
"Besides, it's for the kids."
Gwen rolled her eyes and started to sweep up cake crumbs and hardened bits of frosting. Still, she couldn't help but smile. Franklin's bright, upbeat personality often lifted her mood and brought some much-needed life to the restaurant.
"Well, you didn't get to see this place in its prime, newbie," she said, "before everything went downhill."
Andrew shrugged and walked toward the bathrooms to relieve himself before heading out.
"Guess not," Franklin said. "I only moved here two years ago."
"You missed out," Gwen teased.
She swept her crumb pile into the dustpan, then traded places with Franklin as he got the last few cups off the table.
"It used to have more games, better food, and the animals actually interacted with the kids."
"Really?" Franklin asked. "Like how?"
"They talked to them," Gwen answered, knowingly. "Like, actually held real conversations, and could repeat names. It made them feel more real. My cousins and I loved it."
A frown.
"Now they're just creepy."
Franklin glanced to the stage, where the Fazbear band had long since shut down for the night. He tilted his head as he imagined what Gwen just told him.
"Maybe that's why they stopped," Franklin said.
"Not really," Andrew called from the bathroom hall. "It's just what cutbacks and years of scandals does to a place."
The boys' bathroom door opened and shut, leaving the two younger employees alone for a moment.
"He's right," Gwen said. She dumped the crumbs with a shrug, then glanced over at Franklin. "Like I said, I used to come here a lot as a kid. We didn't come very often after the first incident."
"First incident?" Franklin asked.
"My cousin, Kamili, disappeared," Gwen explained. "She and her folks were visiting. My house is only a few blocks away from here, so Kamili thought she could dip off for a while and come back without anyone noticing. She left her mom a note explaining she was going to see Freddy. The staff claimed they hadn't seen her come in, but they did their damnedest to look for her."
She frowned.
"I was only four when it happened, so I don't really remember much."
"So why are you working here?" Franklin asked. "If your cousin disappeared here, I mean?"
"Mostly because not many other places were hiring, and this one's close by," Gwen said. "And because there hasn't been an incident in years."
She went for another pile of cake crumbs.
"Sooner or later, you let things go and accept that things change. What happened to Kamili was sad, and I do kind of want to know what happened, but there also wasn't any proof she actually got here. I stopped letting it bother me a long time ago. Besides, after Christmas, this place is done for good, and then it's all gonna be behind me anyway."
Franklin nodded.
"Good attitude to have," he said.
The door jingle played. Gwen and Franklin both looked over in time to see the janitor walk in and tuck his keys into his jumper pocket.
"Getting in a little early?" Gwen teased.
"Or you're workin' late," he replied.
The janitor smirked as he headed for the storage closet.
"But really, I did some shoppin' earlier," he continued. "Saw a lot of cars in the parking lot. Figured I'd get a head start."
"Well, you're right," Franklin said.
He swept his dust pile toward Gwen, where she could get it with her dustpan. Judy peeked out from the kitchen, her blonde bun falling out of place.
"We just finished up," she said. "Need any help?"
"Don't worry about it," Gwen replied. "We're almost done."
"Okay. We're gonna head out and lock the kitchen, then. See you guys tomorrow!"
"Night, Judy!" Franklin called.
"Night!"
Judy disappeared back into the kitchen, and even from here, Franklin heard the old exit door open and shut a moment later. The janitor returned shortly with a mop and yellow wheeled bucket.
"Gonna start by the bathrooms," he said. "You kids finish up here."
"Awesome!" Franklin replied, giving the older man a small salute. "Will do!"
The janitor nodded and went to the bathroom hallway. He got out his mop and started to work. He shot a glance to the rest of the crew to note their positions. Gwen was out of sight, cleaning up around Pirate Cove. Franklin moved down the tables toward the prize counter. The janitor waited until he moved to the next row, just out of sight. He listened to the sound of two brooms on tile, the occasional dump of the dustpan, the casual small talk to make the task go faster.
Good. No one would see for certain what he was about to do.
And he'd need their help once all was said and done.
The janitor looked back at the wall, at the Foxy drawing hiding the hole he finished that morning. He aimed the mop right under it and slammed the long pole into the plaster. He hoisted his body forward so his shoulder smashed into the wall. The plaster gave as he hoped it would, several pieces crashing to the floor on the other side. Already, the janitor heard Gwen and Franklin's concerned voices, their footsteps running to investigate. The janitor steadied himself back on his feet and dusted off his jumper. It stung, but the pain was already fading.
"What the hell?"
Franklin entered the bathroom hall, Gwen not far behind him. The boys' bathroom door opened as he got there, with Andrew Bell dashing out, his brown hands still dripping wet. The dayshift guard got to the janitor first. His dark eyes widened in horror.
"Are you alright, old man?" he asked. "What happened?"
"M'fine, Bell," the janitor muttered. "Just slipped."
Franklin and Gwen rushed up behind him, their brooms forgotten on the dining room floor. Andrew stepped closer to the janitor, who held up a hand to keep him back.
"I'm fine," he said again. "Y'ask me, I hurt the wall more'n it hurt me."
"Are you sure?" Gwen asked.
The janitor gave her a warm smile.
"Sure as sunrise," he replied.
Gwen nodded, then turned to Franklin.
"What'd I tell you? This place is falling apart."
Andrew examined the hole in the plaster, at the edges and how the material cracked. Even the wall didn't look very thick; only just sturdy enough to do its job. He gently pressed at the wall around it and carefully tested it for further weaknesses.
"This is such shoddy workmanship," Andrew said with annoyance. "Looks like whoever built this wall was in a ru-"
The plaster under his hand gave way. Andrew tumbled into the wall like a drunken football player. His heavy weight crashed into the plaster, taking out a good chunk of the wall as he collapsed to the floor. A few large plaster pieces fell onto him from the ceiling.
"Andrew!"
Gwen ran over to him, grabbing for the plaster chunks to pull off of him. Franklin and the janitor followed suit, taking the bigger pieces off the day shift guard.
"Are you okay?" Franklin asked.
"Can you move?" the janitor added as he pulled a huge chunk of plaster away. "How's your head?"
Andrew groaned as he tried to shift under the plaster. The janitor and Franklin moved enough pieces to tell he was still breathing. Another small groan told them he was still conscious. Franklin perked as he suddenly realized there was no draft from outside.
That the tile floor led beyond the broken wall.
"Whoa! I didn't know there was another room back here!"
Franklin stepped closer, then wrinkled his nose.
"Ugh, and it kind of smells."
He tried to get a better look, only for the janitor to draw him back to the task at hand.
"Not now, kid. Help me get 'im up."
Franklin nodded and did as the janitor said. He got on Andrew's other side and helped the janitor hoist him up. Gwen stepped away from them to give them space, then ran into the dining room to get a chair for Andrew. She hardly reached the nearest table when Waylon came storming into the dining room. The manager's purple face pulsed, his pencil-thin mustache ready to jump off of his snarling lip.
"What the hell did you do?" Waylon screamed as he marched up to the wall.
Franklin helped the janitor keep Andrew on his feet. They ignored the manager for the moment.
"It was an accident!" Gwen cried.
Waylon either hadn't noticed Andrew, or didn't care. As soon as she set the chair down, Gwen ran to the back room to get the first-aid kit.
"Do you know how much this is going to cost to fix?" Waylon ranted. He waved a hand at the large hole in the building. "We don't have the money! We barely got enough to get through next month!"
"Calm down," the janitor said as he helped Franklin direct Andrew into the chair. "It was an accident."
"The hell it was!"
"But it was!" Franklin protested.
"I don't ca-" Waylon started.
The janitor interrupted him.
"An employee was hurt, Waylon," he snarled. "That comes first."
Like before, Waylon stuttered for something to say, then seemed to think better of it. He guiltily looked over at Andrew. The day shift guard for the most part seemed to be all right, but he saw a bit of bruising on one of his hands, part of his face and neck, and he imagined there were a few more under the uniform. Andrew still hadn't said a word; he just breathed with slow, painful breaths.
"...Is he okay?" Waylon asked, quietly.
"M'fine," Andrew managed after a moment. "Just...hurts."
Waylon nodded, then turned to his other employees.
"What happened?"
The janitor put a hand on Andrew's shoulder. Gwen soon returned with the first aid kit, and began to examine Andrew for anything that needed immediate attention.
"Slipped with the mop an' crashed into the wall," the janitor explained. "Wasn't hurt, but Bell came to check in on me. The whole wall came down while he was examinin' the remains of it."
"Yeah," Gwen added. "It's not his fault. The damn wall wasn't sturdy!"
"You're lucky this happened now," the janitor continued, "and not when the youngins' were out and about."
Waylon's face paled a bit, and he nodded in agreement. Better an employee after hours than a customer during the day. This establishment would never survive another lawsuit like that. Gwen helped Andrew unbutton his shirt to check on his back and sides. Only a few small cuts, but the way he winced when she touched part of his ribs said enough.
"You should probably see a doctor," Gwen said, quietly.
Waylon nodded in agreement.
"Bell, you're dismissed for the time being," he said, calmer now. "Get that looked at, and get better. I'll…"
A small sigh, and then a mutter.
"...Fill out an incident report."
Andrew nodded.
"Can you walk?" Waylon asked.
"I think so."
"Good."
He offered a hand to Andrew to help him stand. Andrew took it and shakily got back on his feet. Waylon then turned to his other employees.
"Graham, Carlisle, go home. We've got it from here."
"Better do as he says," the janitor said softly. "Finish up and go."
Franklin and Gwen both nodded, then followed Waylon and Andrew back into the dining room. Gwen watched as the two men left the establishment. Only the welcome jingle broke the sudden quiet.
"...I hope he'll be okay," she said.
"Bell's a tough one," the janitor replied, watching the front windows.
He waited for Waylon's car to pull out of the lot.
"He'll probably be back when we open again."
"Yeah," Franklin agreed.
Gwen went quiet again, then glanced down the bathroom hall, at the damaged plaster and into the darkness beyond it where the black and white tiles faded into the shadows. In all the commotion, the hidden room had been forgotten.
"...What's back there?" she asked.
"Good question," Franklin replied.
The janitor pulled out his penlight.
"I was waitin' for Waylon to leave," he said quietly, "so we could find out."
Gwen and Franklin both looked at the penlight, and nodded. The three of them made their way to the hallway, the janitor leading the way.
The penlight lit up the back wall first, of old posters and newspaper clippings and printed corporate notes. The trio stepped in, and Franklin noticed the weird smell wasn't as strong anymore. To the left, a few old video game cabinets lined the wall. Some miscellaneous long-forgotten personal items littered the floor, and as the janitor shone the penlight toward the far corner…
"Oh my god," Gwen whispered. "That's creepier than the others."
"You're telling me," Franklin agreed.
An animatronic lay slumped against the wall, where it looked like it had been thrown inside and forgotten. A quick glance showed it was probably a Bonnie prototype, with the right ear snapped off at the bisect, the left intact, but fraying. It was a dull yellow color, and its suit bore several tears, especially around the eyes and mouth. The tears gave the thing an empty-eyed look with a creepy grin. The face with its lack of eyes and exposed plastic teeth almost resembled a skeleton. Strangely enough, it had five fingers instead of four like the others, and its exposed feet had a different shape as well, looking almost like it had slots for toes.
"Interesting," the janitor said.
He carefully approached the animatronic and ran the penlight over its body to examine it.
"Doesn't look like anythin's wrong with it. Just old and frayed."
He turned to Gwen and handed her the penlight.
"Hold this. And you," he said, turning to Franklin, "help me move it."
"Wait, what?" Franklin asked.
"You heard me."
"What are we going to do with it?"
"We're gonna bring it to that spare parts room. Make things a little easier for the repair guys tomorrow."
The janitor shifted to lift the animatronic under its arms, grunting a bit, but he managed to grip it.
"C'mon, kid, I ain't got all night."
Franklin nodded and grabbed its ankles, surprised that the thing was lighter than it looked. Gwen held the light for them and guided both men out of the hole with their twisted prize. She noticed the other half of the animatronic's ear on the floor and picked it up, then stepped back into the hallway with her coworkers. In the brighter light, the thing looked even creepier, with every tear more clear. The places with the exposed metal endoskeleton resembled bones poking out from a decaying body. If any good came from it, the room behind them had been completely sealed. The metal wasn't as rusted as expected, and some parts looked even a bit salvageable.
"I think I preferred it in the dark," Gwen said as she flicked off the penlight.
She ran ahead then, wedged the back room door open, and got the light. Franklin and the janitor got as far as the stage before they had to set the animatronic down and catch their breath.
"It's kind of cool," Franklin said, bending down to lift it again. "I wonder if it still works."
"Even if it did, what's it good for?" Gwen asked. "Not like this place has much longer to go."
"It's probably scrap or spare parts," the janitor said simply.
He glanced to the stage.
"They're probably gonna need 'em."
As they entered the room, both men looked for a place to put it. They decided to set the new animatronic down in order to move the spare endoskeleton to the corner under the camera in that room, and the extra Bonnie head back on the shelf. They then lifted the animatronic up onto the table, where it laid like a patient waiting for surgery.
Gwen set the ear down beside it, then looked over it again.
"...Someone didn't want this thing found," she said quietly.
"Well, we found it," the janitor said, "and there's not much more either of you can do tonight. Go home and get some rest."
"Yeah," Franklin agreed. "But there was a secret room here and no one knew? Cool!"
Gwen quietly followed him. She pondered on their discovery.
"...You know," she said as they made their way to the front door, "when I think about it, I'm pretty sure I remember those old games."
"I wouldn't know," Franklin said with a shrug. "Never had a childhood here, remember?"
He got the door for her. The jingle rang as they left the building. Once the door shut and locked them outside, the janitor walked to the backstage room. The old broken robot still laid in its spot, as lifeless as the empty heads around it. The old man stepped forward.
"Thought they dismantled you years ago," he said.
The janitor stopped at the edge of the table. He picked up one of its arms and twisted its wrist to test its movement. The joints creaked, and some rust buildup caused it to stall, but despite its age, the old animatronic still retained much of its articulation. The janitor pulled his work rag out of his coveralls. He walked around the table, occasionally stopping to test a joint or wipe away a layer of dust. He gave it a small, sad smile as he worked.
"But it's good to see you, old friend. Not sure what you've got to do with th' kid, though. Pretty sure you came well before 'is time."
Parts of the suit looked brighter now, but removing the dust failed to revive the original golden color. He gave a small nod to his handiwork.
"Got a bit of work to do before the night shift gets in," he said. "I'm sure if you have somethin' to do with the kid, he'll know."
The janitor headed back into the dining room to gather up the brooms Gwen and Franklin left on the floor. Afterwards, he had plaster to pick up and haul away.
Mike awoke to the sound of a phone ringing. He jolted up, then looked around the room. He saw the white ceiling first, then his TV set, the old wall clock with its dying battery, and some bright, colorful art that he tacked up solely to make the living room feel less dreary. To his left, he saw the shelf full of books and VHS tapes, then his beat-up coffee table in front of him.
Home, he realized.
Not in the office where he waited to hear a dead man's voice.
The phone rang again, drawing his attention to the small table in the furthest corner of the room. The old handpiece rattled in its cradle. It settled down for only a few seconds before the ringing shook it up again. Mike reached up to rub his eyes. He barely caught a glimpse of his watch.
1:23pm.
When had he fallen asleep? He probably blacked out as soon as he got inside. A fourth ring pulled Mike out of his thoughts. Who would be calling him? He rarely got calls. Mike's eyes glimpsed the newspaper on the coffee table as he stepped toward the phone. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he picked up his pace.
Maybe one of the other jobs he tried for checked out!
His shaking hand grazed the phone as it rang a fifth time. On the second try, he managed to grab the handpiece, and pulled it up to his ear.
Nothing.
Mike cursed under his breath as he set the phone back in the cradle, then glanced to the small answering machine beside it. He turned it on, hoping to at least catch what the person was saying.
"-lo, Michael," came an older woman's voice. She bore a once-strong Irish accent that since weakened over time. "It's Moira. I haven't…"
A long sigh came through the machine. Mike's heart sank, though he considered it a small mercy that he hadn't answered in time. With how this past week had gone and his already having to lie to Vanna, he wasn't sure if he keep up the charade with his foster mother too.
"...I haven't heard from you in a little while," Moira continued, "and I just wanted to check in. Make sure you were okay. I know that this time of the year is a bit difficult for you, Michael. I think about you a lot. I worry. How can I not?"
His hand hovered over the stop button, tempted to shut it off. Guilt made him pull it away. Mike owed it to her to at least listen.
"As each year passes, you grow more and more distant," Moira's voice gently prattled on. "I understand why. After what happened...I know you're just trying to protect yourself. I know that. But it terrifies me, Michael. I don't...I don't want to lose you too."
She paused a moment, and he heard a sniffling sound, then a soft scratching that told him she just wiped her nose. Mike loosened his tie, then pulled off his badge with trembling hands. He stared at the smiling bear on it, the glimmers from the living room light.
"Please call me back," Moira begged. "You know you can always talk to me. I'll always listen. You know I will."
He turned the badge in his hands, then closed his eyes.
Try not to think of it.
"I want you to be alright, Michael. To heal. I pray every night that you'll find peace. That you'll...stop avoiding things that remind you of-"
The badge suddenly clattered down on the table, drowning out the last word.
That name.
Mike reached up to wipe his eyes. He clutched the edge of the table with his other hand.
Don't think about it. Force it back.
"I hope you'll stop running," Moira's voice continued. "That when you finally do, you'll be able to face it head on. I love you, Michael. Have since you first came to us. I hope you'll call back, but if you don't, then at least know you are loved, and you aren't alone. I love you, Ronan loves you, and so did-"
Mike slammed the answering machine off, not wanting to hear anymore. His arm throbbed again, as did his neck. Whatever rest he managed to get suddenly drained as he fell to one knee. Mike kept a tight grip on the table lest he collapse entirely. He took a few moments to compose himself, then pulled himself back on his feet.
The badge glittered innocently; Freddy's face smiled up at the ceiling. Mike snatched it up again, then glared at the golden bear.
"What do you want?" he screamed. "Why are you doing this?"
Beyond the bear, he saw his own face reflected back, his haunted eyes, his stubbled chin. Mike tossed the badge away from him, then headed for the bathroom.
Clean up, he told himself. Get your mind off of it. Prepare yourself for what you can find tonight. Make them happy, collect your paycheck, and get the hell out.
And once you do, never go back again.