Summer 1978
Mike walked faster and took the lead. He didn't speak again until they made it out of the front entrance and part way through the parking lot.
"...I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just-there was something w-weird, and I panicked, and-"
The hand he held pulled away, only to rest on his shoulder. Another hand found his other shoulder. Both of them gently gripped him to keep him still.
"Mike," his friend said. "Ma says whenever you feel unsafe, you leave, no matter what, right?"
Mike nodded.
"Do you feel safe right now?"
Mike shook his head.
"Okay," his friend continued. "That means we have to go."
The hands left his shoulders. One of them took his own hand again.
"Do you remember what I told you when you came to live with us? What I promised?"
Mike went quiet. He shook his head, unable to look up as they walked. The grip on his hand tightened in comfort.
"Nothing's going to hurt you again," came the answer, "because I'm going to protect you.""Yeah," Mike agreed. "You're right."
He heard the smile in his friend's voice.
"I'm older," he said. "I have to be right, remember?"
That got them both to laugh. Mike shot a final glance back over his shoulder, at the neon sign in the distance where Freddy's face now looked about the size of a normal teddy bear's. The sign flickered. The bear's eyes lit up and remained for a second longer.
Friday, November 12, 1993
After last night's call, Mike grimly took his seat. He allowed the usual ambience to settle in. There would be no phone call tonight. After the demise of his predecessor, the only things left to hear were the relative silence of the building in its final moment before midnight, the buzzing of the light, the hum of the fan. On either side of him, the lights in the hallway shut off as the building's power diverted to a generator.
Mike looked at the blank monitor on his desk, at his reflection on the dark screen. He winced. The purple circles that surrounded his eyes looked like sunken sockets in the grim light, the eyes themselves highlighted, not unlike the bright pinpricks he kept seeing in the animatronics. Mike pulled the brim of his hat down solely to keep the light from reflecting in his eyes. The effect reminded him of his first night, how his reflection encased his eyes in shadow.
And reminded him of someone else.
Nothing to do now but get to it. Mike reached for the little power button on the monitor to bring up the stage show. All three band members still stood, but the camera blacked out just as he got a glimpse of them. Mike shut it off, knowing to give it a few seconds and try again. For now, he had a moment alone.
The phone rang.
Mike jumped at the sudden noise, then looked over to the phone on the desk. His eyes widened in disbelief.
It didn't...maybe I'm just hearing things, he thought. I'm just used to it ringing at midnight.
It rang again. This time, Mike saw the little red button light up just above the keypad, indicating an actual phone call trying to come through.
Why is it ringing?
Only one person ever called him, he realized. Hope replaced fear for a moment. His chilled blood to warm again. Maybe Phone Guy survived after all!
Mike reached to answer it, but did nothing more than graze his fingers over the handset. He dared to hope for good news as he glanced to the open doors on either side, his ears perked for their movement. The phone rang one more time before going to the answering machine. Mike held his breath as it clicked on. He hopefully listened for that familiar, "Hello, hello?"
White noise burst from the phone. Mike winced and expected the call to cut off, but the white noise stopped, replaced with the garbled mess from the depths of a demon's throat. Electronic splicing and sputtering clawed into his ears. The jarring distortions and changes in pitch reminded him of a tape playing backwards.
Mike froze as he listened, his breath caught in his throat. When he let it out, he swore he saw his breath in the suddenly chilled air.
Phone Guy's final message?
As he tried to pick out anything resembling decipherable words from the deep, incomprehensible voice, the three monitors somewhat working monitors suddenly lit up. White noise covered the screens before they showed three images: the edge of the fighting game near the stage, the edge of the stage itself, and a set of brown eyes peering out from the dark.
The images blipped off half a second later. In that moment, Mike found himself unable to breathe.
Something pressed down against his body. It covered him in a blanket of something wet and dingy, and smelled like the city after rain. The weight kept him in place, like a butterfly trapped between glass panels. It dug into his nostrils and slid down his throat, preventing any breath or sound. The weight pressed into his eyes and kept them closed, not that he'd dare to open them.
The call suddenly ended in a spliced scream cutting in and out. Mike jolted as his lungs finally let in a breath. In his panic, he kicked his chair away from his desk. The handpiece clattered onto the floor. A second later, the little red light on the phone turned off to indicate the message stopped. Mike stared at the phone on the floor. The cord hung off the edge of the desk. He glanced back to the monitors, then carefully pulled his chair forward again. He bent down to reach the handset. A stifled breath barely crept from his aching throat as he listened to the stillness of the building.
Only the fan and the overhead light made any noise. The building itself settled down. The phone's base sat on the desk, now as dead as the man who once called. Mike swallowed hard as his fingers gripped the handpiece. He sat back up, then slowly put it back in its cradle. He then looked over the monitors, and tried to piece together what he saw before: brown eyes, the fighter game, and the edge of the stage, complete with part of Bonnie's purple foot.
Eyes…
Human eyes? Or animatronic? Mike hadn't been able to tell, he realized; the image had been so quick. He stared at the monitors and almost willed them to turn on again, to give him more.
Every screen remained black, and every power button stayed off.
After giving himself another moment, Mike reached to turn on the one mostly-reliable monitor.
Only Freddy occupied the stage now. He stared ahead into the dining room. Mike briefly recalled the bear's deep baritone and tried to compare it to the message he heard just now. The animatronic caught the Phone Guy in the middle of leaving his last message when he took him out; maybe Freddy himself left tonight's message?
The old bear remained still. He continued to stare ahead and gave no indication of an answer to that question. Mike quickly changed the view to check for the others.
Bonnie marched alone in the dining room. He deviated from his usual routine to linger near the back, where the shadows distorted his face and body. Chica wandered by the bathrooms. She stared ahead into the hole in the wall unseen behind the camera and tilted her head in what appeared to be interest or curiosity, but otherwise stayed away from it. Mike welcomed it because at least she wasn't giving him one of her demonic glares. He then flipped to Pirate Cove, where Foxy already threatened to step down from the stage.
Mike checked the power levels - 97% - and shut off the monitor to give himself a moment to process.
That phone call confirmed what he feared. He was completely on his own now, and needed to rely on his own wit and judgment to survive. All of the fear, the nightmares and memories, the phone calls - he needed to push them back, just focus on getting through the rest of the night.
He turned the monitor back on. Foxy remained in place, but looked up at the camera, his attention now on the night guard. Bonnie still marched with the shadows. Chica apparently lost interest in the once-secret room and now retreated back to the dining room to join her fluffy-tailed companion. Freddy still stared out at an invisible audience.
That left only the back room. Mike winced as he changed the view. He half-expected the thing back there to be sitting up and staring.
Why did they want me to find you? he thought. What are you hiding?
The light from the dining room shone into the open doorway, the "new" animatronic barely outlined in the soft glow. Mike breathed a small sigh of relief to see it hadn't moved. He only really saw its right side, with just enough yellow highlights to make out a form in the dark. The silver discs at its eyes caught the light. The glowing effect gave the illusion that its eyes looked at up the camera. Briefly, Mike recalled when it still worked, how its then-green eyes stared at him all those years ago.
"...You're a creepy fucker," Mike whispered. "Do me a favor and stay right there tonight."
The animatronic remained still, just a corpse waiting for an autopsy. Mike listened for the others, changed the camera view to track any movement, and added the back room to the list of rooms to check more frequently. The outline in the hidden alcove might have said the ancient animatronic hadn't moved in years, but it meant little when Foxy, who also wasn't supposed to move, ran perfectly well at night. Whatever strange thing that affected the others could affect this one too - and Mike knew better than to take chances.
They wanted him to find that one. They wanted to tell him something, and that alone meant he needed to pay attention to it.
He had no idea what to make of tonight's phone call either; it was either a warning or a message, neither of which he could decipher. Nor was he sure about the images on the monitors, and why he only saw the edges of the game and the stage, and more of the tile floor they sat on than either of the objects themselves. All of the animatronics went back into their normal routines of stalking the building and looking for a chance to get to him.
Why come after him still, then? What did they want?
Mike glowered, then turned the monitor back on. Tonight, he decided, he refused to let them get to him, to fear them. Freddy made it clear that morning that they weren't going to take him out just yet, at least until he learned whatever it was they wanted him to know.
That alone bought him precious time.
Mike glanced to the doors on either side. His neck pulsed at the memory of Bonnie dragging him out. Show them no fear, but take no chances and keep them out whenever possible. Anything they needed to tell him would simply echo in his mind anyway; no need to lower his guard and let them in.
A few changes of the camera view showed all of them got to it faster than the last few nights save for Freddy. He doubted the bear would stay put for too much longer. With tonight's phone call and how the last few nights had gone, Mike knew to expect the unexpected.
He changed the camera view to 1C. Foxy paced just outside the Cove. A tall, long-eared shadow barely crossed the open stage. He heard metal clamoring from the kitchen and knew to ignore Chica for a moment. He then flipped the view to the main stage where Freddy still stared up at him, his head tilted at the camera.
Mike shut off the monitor, then glanced at the left door. Judging by that shadow, Bonnie would be his first visitor tonight.
A flip to Cam 2A showed the rabbit's silhouette standing at the end of the hall under dim fluorescents. Mike hated that view almost more than the back room, if only because it disoriented him and fucked with his vision. He changed the view to Cam 1C solely to keep Foxy back, then shut the monitor off again.
The fluorescents still remained in his vision, but the after-image changed. For a brief second, he saw…
Eyes.
Eyes buried deep within sunken sockets, too small for the mask. A dark, round nose protruded in front of them. The image flashed once, then disappeared.
He blinked a few times, but no after-image remained. Mike reached up to rub his eyes with a wish that he got more sleep. Moira's untimely phone call hung in his mind, her worry, her love, her very real fears of losing him. Coming here, night after night...a pathetic laugh forced itself between his lips. She told him to stop running, to stop avoiding things that reminded him of what happened.
If only she realized the irony in her words.
Mike turned the monitor back on, and with it, banished Moira's call away. Focus, he told himself. Try to figure out what they want.
Freddy remained on stage. Foxy paced. Chica wandered around the dining room. The decrepit old corpse rested on its slab in the back room. And Bonnie still lingered at the end of the hall.
Despite the prior warnings, the purple rabbit still had yet to show up at his door. Mike hated the waiting game, the anticipation. Usually, Bonnie came right for him, but in the last several checks, the animatronic kept getting close, lingering in the hallway, then cycling back to the dining room. If anything, he saw Chica more often. He sometimes heard her clicking beak over the sound of her footsteps, a perfect warning to shut her out.
Normally, she lingered for several minutes, sometimes tapped on the window or knocked on the door in hopes he'd open up. Now, she gave up more quickly. She often shot him a quick glance through the window before going away. And of course, he kept an eye on the backstage area.
The new animatronic still laid there, in the exact same position every time he checked. Mike hated the angle from the camera, how it emphasized the thing's skull-like grin, how its silver eyes glimmered in the faint light. But it stayed as he hoped, and it allowed him to move onto another room.
Check Freddy again. Keep Foxy from running. Bonnie's just down the hallway again; prioritize him in case he changes his mind and actually comes for you this time.
Only when the purple rabbit went back into the dining room did Mike check the backstage area once more, morbidly intrigued with the new animatronic. Had it moved its hand while he was distracted with the others? No, it must have been a trick of light; it still laid in the same position as before. Still, every time he glanced back there, his chest tightened and his blood ran cold.
He despised that new animatronic. He hated that it refused to do anything, that it...that it…
You don't yet understand why you're here.
Mike winced, then flipped back to the stage show where Freddy still stared up at him. Only the faintest outline of brown marked his silhouette. The pinprick eyes glittered in the dark. Had the bear actually spoken to him again? Or had he simply remembered what Freddy told him that morning?
"What do you want?" he whispered. "Why are you guys still coming after me?"
Freddy slowly moved his arm and used the microphone to point to Mike's left.
Towards the backstage room.
Taking the hint, Mike quickly changed the camera view, both to try to see what Freddy wanted, and to get an excuse to look away from the old bear. The golden Bonnie still hadn't moved. It remained on the table, a broken shell of a costume. He reached to turn the knob to change the view back to the stage.
In the corner of his eye, something moved under the work table.
Mike let go of the knob and immediately stared at the table. He tried to determine if he actually saw anything at all. He listened for movement and kept checking the animatronic on the table, which remained as still as ever. After a near minute of staring with nothing to show for it, Mike decided he imagined it.
That he wanted to see something there.
92% power, and a glance to his watch lit up 12:49am in glowing green digits. He flipped through the views to check the animatronics' positions, then went back to the stage.
"I don't understand," he said quietly, unsure if Freddy could hear him.
The bear's jaw moved down, giving only a dark laugh in response. Mike glowered at him, frustrated.
"If you want me to leave this office," he said, "forget it. I don't trust any of you."
Freddy only laughed again.
Mike glared at him, then flipped back to Pirate Cove, where Foxy still stalked in front of the little stage. The old pirate paid him no heed. Content for a moment, Mike reached for the knob to flip the view again.
Just as his fingers touched it, Foxy lurched toward the camera. He jolted his head as he moved so his golden eyes stared right up at the security guard, their bright yellow color fading to black. Mike yelped and nearly fell out of his seat. Foxy closed his mouth, grinning with the broken jaw askew. He turned his head solely to show off his jagged teeth. Some of them gleamed with gold.
Best be keepin' watch, matey.
Mike hit the knob solely to stop looking at Foxy and brought up a view of the currently empty dining room. He tried not to think of how that sounded like a threat. What did he need to watch for, besides them? The new animatronic?
His fingers gripped the knob to change the view, when a bit of movement caught his attention. This time, he saw it for certain: one corner of a tablecloth ending its sway to still again.
The Puppet?
Mike swore he saw something move in the back room. And only the Puppet ever moved under the tables.
Before he could get a closer look, a sound caught his attention. To the left, padded feet approached. Without a second thought, Mike kicked his chair over to hit the door switch. A glance down showed one purple pawed foot right in front of the doorway just before the magnetic locks clicked shut.
"About time, you bastard," Mike muttered.
Admittedly, he preferred it when none of them were near him, but at least this relieved his anticipation for the moment. He turned the monitor off, keeping an ear out for the right door in case Chica felt like coming by again. He grabbed his flashlight, clicked it on, and aimed it out the office window to check for Bonnie. He saw nothing but a gray speckled wall and children's drawings. Mike then hit the door light, just long enough to see it cast a long-eared shadow on the nearby wall. He took a deep breath, then turned on the monitor. He flipped through each view as fast as possible before noting the time and power.
12:54am, and 90%.
Once Mike accounted for the others, he turned the monitor off, then kicked his chair over to hit the light switch. The office window lit up, and Mike frowned, frustrated upon seeing the shadow still lingering right there in the flickering fluorescent.
"Bonnie, I am not dealing with your shit tonight," he said, turning the light off again. "Quit wasting my power and go away."
A dark chuckle suddenly crowded his thoughts, echoing in his mind like the other voices he heard around here. Was the creature outside the door mocking him?
He turned to the window and shone the flashlight through the filthy glass. Bonnie finally walked away from the door. His head turned towards Mike as he stepped into the view of the window. His jaw lowered, but no sound came out. Bonnie turned his head forward again and kept walking.
Keep watching it, came his soft tenor.
"Already on it," Mike replied, dryly.
He listened for the rabbit's retreating footsteps, then turned on the monitor to ensure an empty hallway.
The power dropped from 89% to 88%.
He turned off the monitor upon seeing no change. Mike sat there for a moment, then just breathed as he brought both hands up to his face, rested his elbows on his desk.
"Stay calm," he told himself. "You're doing fine. Just...stay calm."
He took another breath, then got out of his seat. His feet hit the floor with more force than needed. Mike narrowed his eyes at the metal door in front of him, his face suddenly hot. Slight tremors rippled through his skin. His neck throbbed as he clenched his fist and slammed the red door button to release it. The large metal slab groaned as it retreated back into its slot above. Mike forced in a breath, then peered down the hall. He flicked the flashlight down it and glared at the retreating form in the dim lights overhead.
"And stay away, you goddamn rabbit!"
A useless request to be certain, but Mike preferred to hold onto the illusion of control. It kept him sane. At least, as sane as he could be on this job.
As he ducked back into the office, his flashlight slid over the drawings on the wall. The happy families and singing animatronics shifted in the light. As the bright beam left the drawings, their colors drained. Mike did a double-take, then moved the flashlight back to the cluster of drawings. He focused the bright beam right on them.
The happy families disappeared. The birthday presents and balloons no longer existed. The animatronics no longer sang or smiled.
Five of the drawings showed dark crayon shadows with white eyes. As he took them in, he realized those drawings each also contained an individual animatronic: Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Puppet. All of them frowned. The young artist attacked the eyes and mouths so hard with black crayon, the paper nearly tore through.
The strange yellow Bonnie sketch remained unchanged save for red and blue streaks now running down its face. He got the implication quite clearly. Of the four remaining drawings, three of them showed a strange dark gray figure, its only defining detail a wide, white smile.
The last picture, however, unsettled him the most.
This one showed a woman in a short blue dress and poorly-rendered heels. In one stick-figure hand, she held what he guessed was a martini glass. She had a black ponytail, green circles for eyes and long lashes. A goldenrod crayon colored in her face. He guessed her identity almost immediately, but what completely sold it was the smiling lips drawn in purple crayon.
Vanna.
What did she have to do with this?
Before he could question it further, Mike picked up the sound of padded footsteps and hissing servos. His head snapped to the right. The flashlight moved in time to catch Bonnie walking back his way. The animatronic barely reached the supply closet, but it was still far too close for comfort.
He quickly ducked back into the office.
As Mike listened for Bonnie's footsteps and readied himself to shut the door, he briefly glimpsed the time.
Just after 1am.
He looked out into the hallway to check for Bonnie, and his vision flashed again.
Mike saw the eyes first, stronger now, blue. Red veins pulsed around the sides, like they had been forced out of their sockets. Plush from some kind of mask appeared around the eyes, the color indiscernible, but light. Digital words interspersed in rapid succession, and noise from tonight's call rung in his ears.
Within a few seconds, it stopped. Mike blinked and shook his head to clear his vision. He reached up with his free hand to feel his ears, in a strange assurance that what he just heard was just as much of a hallucination as what he saw before him. Suddenly remembering his task, he flicked the flashlight into the doorway.
No Bonnie.
Across the hall, he witnessed the return of the cheerful families, birthday parties, and smiling animatronics in the drawings. He shot a quick glance down the hall to find it empty, and taking a risk, he turned around to check that hall corner.
The Freddy poster hung in its proper spot, the friendly singing bear urging young guests to party. Silver stars twirled overhead. The only noticeable change was the janitor got around to sweeping up the trash at some point. Mike checked the other side of the hall once more to ensure emptiness, then went back into the office to do a roll call.
Over on the desk, the monitor greeted him with an empty hallway onscreen. Whatever the hell just happened, it needed to take a back seat to his job.
Mike quickly changed the view to Pirate Cove. He only barely caught Foxy at the edge of the camera's sight. The pirate realized he was being watched and turned to look up at the camera. Mike quickly changed the view, but listened for the metal scratching. Chica and Bonnie both returned to the dining room. Freddy remained onstage. Within five seconds, he had them all accounted for.
Mike checked the power gauge. It now read 83%.
"What the hell!" he gaped.
He shut the monitor off, then back on again, in case the screen did something weird.
Still 83%.
A quick check of the camera rarely left a blip on the power levels, let alone dropped it by five percentage points. Mike quickly looked to the doors on either side of him. Both of them hung open; he hadn't kept them closed by accident like he did the other night.
Mike hoped for a glitch, but he remembered what Bonnie said, to keep an eye on "it." Foxy said something similar before. He thought they meant the broken animatronic in the back room, but now...
The thought of the other animatronic jogged his mind. Mike quickly flipped to the back room. The silver eyes greeted him, still ovular with the animatronic lying on its back and facing the ceiling. He glanced to the thing's left hand, counted the fingers.
Still five. Still in the same pose as before.
And nothing under the table.
He flipped back to the dining room, where Bonnie and Chica danced together. The power indicator in the lower left corner dropped down to 81%.
"...What are you fuckers up to?" Mike whispered, his tone tense and filled with hate. "What did you do?"
He gave a quick glance to the tablecloths, and upon seeing no movement, he turned the monitor off again. They did something to the power, he knew, something that kept causing it to drop rapidly, even with the quickest use of his equipment. He had to preserve it somehow.
Thinking quickly, Mike shut off the fan, then glanced around the room for the switch to the overhead light. Finding none, he looked up and saw a pull chain hanging from it. He hated the thought of a dark office and even less light to see them, but what other choice did he have?
He started to climb on his chair, then heard a change in the atmosphere. Mike held his breath to listen for footsteps, for servos hissing or metal clanking. He heard metallic scratching on smooth tile and felt his heart freeze.
No, he reminded himself. Not tonight. He refused to be afraid of them.
And he knew how to counter this one.
With a small smirk, Mike jumped down from the chair and moved over to the left door. He readied his hand and waited until he heard the first clanking step. Exactly half a second later, he hit the switch, then ducked back out of the way in case his timing failed. The door came down, but the loud CLANG! right before the magnetic locks clicked into place brought him immense satisfaction.
Mike's smirk widened as he listened to the scratching against tile on the other side, the metal clinks and clanks, the hiss of ancient servos as the old pirate tried to right himself again.
"That's not how you walk the plank, captain."
The loud, furious screech on the other side, followed by an infuriated slam on the door, said enough. Mike let himself laugh and walked back over to the desk. He listened to the shuffling and strange noises as Foxy pulled himself up again. The swivel chair greeted him like a throne of triumph as he turned it to take his seat once more.
Right then, something strong and forceful hit the window. A long screech worse than nails on chalkboard assaulted his ears. In horrified surprise, Mike missed the chair completely. He winced as his ass hit the floor; his back knocked the chair away from him. With a pained hiss, he looked up at the window. Two glowing yellow eyes stared at him. The metal hook etched a long scar into the glass.
Even with his strength, Foxy couldn't pierce through it, but just the sight of the hook and the pointed teeth brought to mind that time in the back room where the frightening animatronic cornered him and his father.
Ye can't hide forever, matey.
The next thing Mike saw was a blur of red, followed by the sound of metal footsteps echoing down the hall. He grabbed the desk to pull himself up, then opened the door to save power. He listened for only a few seconds to confirm no one followed up on the pirate's failed attack, then went to gingerly take his seat and turn the monitor back on.
Mike's breath hissed between his teeth. His heart gradually found its natural pace. Without the fan running anymore, the heat crept under his collar, his sleeves. It coaxed out sweat from both the rising temperature and prior panic.
Freddy moved closer to the camera in this time. The sight took Mike off-guard when he stood in Bonnie's spot on the stage. He quickly checked the dining room, and the sight of Bonnie and Chica both still there in their normal routine calmed his nerves. He flipped to 1C, where the purple curtains swayed with residual movement.
Safe for a moment.
Mike quickly checked the back room and investigated the creepy creature with its weird glowing eyes. No change there, fortunately, but he noticed the power levels sunk even lower.
75%.
"How are they doing that?" he whispered.
With Foxy, he understood. His pounding on the door always took out a percentage or two, and slamming into the door probably caused a similar effect. Even so, the door only remained closed for a few seconds during the encounter, not nearly long enough to take the power down eight more percentage points.
He made sure the halls were clear, then shut the monitor off. Mike checked his watch.
1:37am.
At this rate, the rest of the night needed to go perfectly if he wanted to survive.
Mike…
He jolted in his seat, not recognizing that voice.
Had he actually heard his name that time? Or was he simply hearing things again?
Mike looked up. He winced when he saw something stare at him through the window.
A purple uniform, a matching security hat with the brim shadowing the eyes, the edge of a gold badge. The face looked different, a little longer than his own, though it may have simply been a distortion of the scratched and dingy glass. As he tried to get a better look, the eyes under the hat's brim glowed red.
Mike let out a startled scream as his legs tangled in the chair. His reflection disappeared with him as he tumbled back onto the floor. His head throbbed when he smacked against the tile, the wind knocked out of him for a moment. When the stars stopped clouding his vision and his breath found him again, Mike forced himself to sit up. One hand massaged the back of his head, the other held him up. When the pain receded, he glanced up to the window.
The red eyes still stared down at him.
And slowly, he picked out more details.
The darkness of the window normally made the hallway pitch black. This time, the red eyes gave a soft light that made only the faintest hint of an outline shine through the filthy glass, with traces of purple fur that almost perfectly blended into the shadows.
Heart and head pounding, Mike pushed himself from the floor, weirdly grateful that in those seconds of pain, the coldness of the tiles cut through his clothes and cooled him down. He gripped the edge of the desk to stabilize himself and pull his body back onto his feet. Once he regained a modicum of balance, he turned back to the window and narrowed his eyes at the creature behind the glass.
Bonnie stayed put and watched him in return. The security guard shot a glance to the door, into the darkness only mere feet from that window, then looked back to the figure in the shadows. Mike carefully shifted his weight on his shaking legs. He tried to ignore the residual pain in the back of his skull. The rabbit was fast, he knew. He needed to be faster.
I told you to watch it, came a voice.
Mike knew he heard it that time, a soft tenor underlined with another, indecipherable voice. He hesitated a moment as he tried to banish the residual dizziness and prepare himself to hit that door switch.
"...Get the hell away from me," Mike snarled.
Bonnie simply stared at him, his red eyes aligned with the night guard's. Mike glowered right back. Taking no chances, he launched himself from the desk, his fingers outstretched to slam the door switch. No footsteps accompanied his on the other side. The moment he touched the switch, the metal door slid down to seal away the darkness, now solidly stood between him and the monster. He then went back to the window, where Bonnie still waited for him. The animatronic still stared down at him, the mouth open just slightly.
Begging.
Mike hated how it reminded him of his dream.
"What did you do?" he demanded, crossing his arms. "Why is the power draining?"
Bonnie remained quiet and watched him through the glass. Quickly realizing this line of questioning would get him nowhere, Mike tried something else.
"...What do you want?" he asked, relenting a bit.
Bonnie did stay put when he smacked into the floor, completely vulnerable for several seconds. And he remained in that spot while he shut the door. Both instances said enough the animatronic might not have wanted to attack him.
Yet.
And at this point, he needed answers.
Several seconds passed. Mike shot a glimpse to the still-glowing monitor, and quickly shut it off to save power. He kept his ears perked for anything coming in behind him. He hated that the right door hung completely open. Mike looked over his shoulder solely to try to pick out movement. He only turned back to the window when he heard that gentle tenor.
To go home.
Mike quirked a brow.
"You are home," he said, trying to hide his confusion. "Aren't you?"
Bonnie didn't answer. The rabbit simply made his way back down the hall.