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Friday, November 12, 1993
A metal crashing sound caught his attention. Mike turned away again, just long enough to make sure the right hallway remained clear. As the noise continued, he took it for Chica banging around in the kitchen again. When he turned back to the left window, only the dingy glass looked back at him.
He listened for Bonnie's retreating footsteps, then quickly turned the monitor back on. After ensuring the rabbit cleared the hallway, he checked Foxy and shut it off again, then ran over to hit the left door switch. Once the door lifted, Mike carefully peered out at the few emergency lights that marked the start of the dining room. He saw Bonnie's large form turn into the main room.
"...The hell was that about?"
On a hunch, he ran the flashlight over the drawings across from him. All ten of them changed again, no longer even pictures anymore. Now, each one formed a red-crayoned letter, written in a child's shaky scrawl:
SmiLiNG mAN
Faintly, Mike heard chimes down the hall and flicked the flashlight down it. He half-expected to see Foxy barreling toward him, but for a second, the entire hallway lit up.
The speckled gray walls suddenly looked lighter, newer, dotted with colorful confetti. The black and white tile stripes that split the walls in half turned purple and a weird blue-green that matched the present box in the dining room. Silver stars hung in a garland above, and the drawings disappeared to show posters he barely glimpsed. To the right, he saw openings and bathroom signs. At the very end, he saw a door.
The vision disappeared in a flash. Mike stared at the emergency lights at the end of the hall where Bonnie liked to linger. The musical chimes still rung in his ears, faint, the tune indecipherable. In the corner of his eye, the drawings returned to normal again. At the end of the hall, he swore he saw a pair of yellow eyes flicker, an old jaw open wider to expose sharp teeth.
Mike ducked back into the office. His hand shakily hovered over the door switch while he waited for Foxy to charge at him.
He heard no scratching sound on the tiles.
As he waited - and kept an ear out for the noise still marking Chica's location in the kitchen - Mike tried to process what he just saw: a different hallway, a different place.
That place.
The changing drawings also spoke to him. The sad animatronics with the strange shadows, the weird gray figure he guessed represented the "smiling man," the crying, bleeding yellow Bonnie...and Vanna.
Mike thought of the stories, of the rumors of missing children. Five of them, if he recalled correctly, and the drawings depicted five animatronics with ghostly shadows. Then what about the yellow Bonnie? Where did that fit into the puzzle? What about Vanna? And was the smiling man-?
The kitchen clamoring stopped and forced him to direct his thoughts and attention back to his job. Before Mike took two steps to investigate the other door, a different sound caught his ears: a deep, rich laugh that echoed throughout the building. Mike groaned, not needing the cameras to know it originated in the dining room.
"Great. His Royal Highness left his throne."
He quickly went back to the monitor and turned it on. After a quick glance to ensure Foxy still paced the Cove, and a few seconds of tense silence before the clattering in the kitchen resumed, Mike turned the camera back to the dining room and glanced at the power levels.
62%. A glance at the time showed it was just after 2am.
With a grimace, he turned the monitor off, then remembered what he attempted to do before he heard Foxy scratching on the tiles. Time to keep the flashlight at the ready, because his only miracle would come in darkness.
Mike carefully balanced on his swivel chair to reach the pull chain. He gripped it tightly and closed his eyes as he yanked it down. The darkness overcame him quickly. The normal buzzing from the old bulb turned into a faint jarring demon voice. Mike opened his eyes to another pair staring back at him: blue, pulsing, watching him from behind a mask. The words darted around his vision, robotic and jittery, but this time, he picked something out.
I...m…it...m…
Mike felt the chair shift under him. With immense care and stiff, pained movements, he crouched down into the seat and curled his body in to prevent himself from falling and smacking into the floor again. The strange vision followed him. Closing his eyes and covering his ears did nothing.
M...It...s...
It stopped. Mike opened his eyes to darkness. His vision adjusted enough now to pick out the edges of the monitor stacks, the cupcake toy, some of the wall decorations. Slowly, he uncovered his ears. No more fan, no more buzzing light, not even footsteps getting too close. Only the building settling, the faint drafts that occasionally passed through and gave a few seconds' relief from the heat, and his own blood thrashing against his ears.
Mike reached up to undo his tie. He yanked the thin cloth from his neck to throw on the desk. His hat joined it not long after, granting him even a little relief.
Three times.
Three times, he saw that weird...hallucination. And the message…"it's me"?
He glanced at his watch. At 2:16am and barely over half the power, he had no time to think about it.
Mike uncurled himself to sit properly in his chair, then pulled himself up to the desk. He felt for the monitor in front of him, ready to watch his eyes as best he could and dim the brightness if possible.
Now to find where that overgrown teddy bear decided to hide tonight, and to be quicker than usual about it.
Mike looked to the shadows on the screen for the usual pinpricks that often provided his only clue to Freddy's location. He saw Bonnie wander the dining room again, in the strange choreography he performed with Chica, whether his partner-in-crime joined him or not. Mike looked for the pinprick eyes, even Freddy's outline as his eyes better adjusted. He took a second to check on Foxy, then flipped through the views to look for Chica. He found her by the bathrooms, once more staring in the direction of the hole in the wall. Mike shut off the monitor for a moment to conserve a bit more power, then flipped it back on before too much time could pass.
With the other three accounted for, he switched back to the dining room camera to look for Freddy. That deep chuckle echoed through the restaurant again. With sweat pouring down his forehead and under his collar, Mike went back over to the bathrooms, where Freddy usually went next, but now he saw nothing: no shadows in the doorways, no outline just out of sight, no glowing eyes...had he missed something?
"Or he changed his pattern," Mike muttered, recognizing the tactic from Bonnie and Chica. Hell, even Foxy did it tonight with his camera scare.
He flipped back to the dining room, where Chica now joined Bonnie in their weird dining room dance. Still no sign of Freddy...until he barely caught a large form moving to the right from the camera's angle.
"...Of course," Mike grimaced. "Had to tempt fate, didn't you, Schmidt?"
He flipped the camera to the backstage, and sure enough, he caught Freddy's outline in the doorway, the familiar top hat and ears up against the open door.
Freddy looked straight into the camera...and was he grinning more than usual?
"Don't you fucking dare," Mike growled. His patience with them ran down as quickly as the power.
He looked down at the broken animatronic still quietly resting on the table. Freddy's large body blocked some of the stage light, and in turn, the weird suit's silver eyes no longer glowed. Well, one good thing to come from Freddy being there, the thing looked less creepy.
Mike watched him. The bear just stood there, grinning, his eyes glowing as they often did at night. Mike had to get Freddy away from there, but how? If he kept the camera on this view, he risked exposure to the others. But if Freddy knew something about that animatronic...could he afford to let him get close to it?
Fuck, what to do?
Mike changed the view to check on Foxy again, then flipped back to Cam 5 to prioritize Freddy. This time, he noticed the bear pointing to the yellow Bonnie with his microphone.
"I know," Mike said, narrowing his eyes. "You wanted me to find it. Mind telling me why?"
Before Freddy could answer, something clicked behind him, like a ratchet quietly being adjusted. Padded footsteps accompanied the sound, along with what sounded like singing, too far away to properly make out the words. Mike changed the view in time to catch Chica heading down the right hallway. He shut the monitor off and quickly moved by the right door switch. He blindly felt around in the dark for the door frame as he reached for his flashlight. The cool metal under his fingers relieved some of the stuffy office air, as did the open hallway once he got there.
Mike found the flashlight and listened closely as the animatronic crept closer. After fumbling for a second, he clicked it on and shone it down the long hallway.
Chica approached him. Her bulky yellow body took up a good portion of the hallway; her "LET'S EAT!" bib provided a good target to watch as she came closer. Chica's beak clicked up and down. Even from here, Mike noticed her endoskeleton teeth glistening in the back of her mouth. As she got closer, he picked out some of the words she sang.
...old and sometimes new
We keep the ones we find are true
Mike perked up. He recognized it almost immediately as one of the songs they sang during the day. And one, if he thought about, he could probably sing along to.
Sometimes found and sometimes lost
The greatest ones are worth the cost
He waited until she reached the window, then hit the door switch. Chica stopped singing. A cheerful, high-pitched giggle filled his mind. It lacked any malice or ill-intent; just a normal laugh like she sometimes did onstage. Mike almost wished for intended creepiness. The innocence of her laughter and the gentle knocking on the door disconcerted him more than any vindictiveness would have.
Her footsteps shifted, and a few raps on the glass got his attention. Mike walked up to the window, the flashlight aimed up to see her. Chica stared down at him with her large purple eyes, her beak wide open in her version of a grin. She pressed her free hand up against the glass, then held Dulcie up to peer inside.
We all share the memories made
And hope they last and never fade
Mike looked to the window. He watched as her beak clicked in time to the words, how her purple eyes took in his every move. Despite her upbeat singing, every note unnerved him more than the last.
"Stop it," he whispered.
She ignored him and finished the verse.
I am yours, and you are mine
Friends until the end of time
Mike narrowed his eyes and remembered the promise he made to himself. Ignore it, and give her nothing.
"Unless you want to tell me why I'm here," je said, "there's no point in standing there."
He heard her laugh again.
But I did, Mikey.
Chica shot him one last glance before she stepped away from the window.
You'll understand. I promise.
Almost as soon as she left, he picked up the sound of something metal scratching against tile. A second later, the scratching became footsteps.
Familiar metallic footsteps, moving at a brisk pace.
Shit.
Mike dove to the other side of the room. His fist slammed down on the door button just as he caught a red flash in the window. The loud metallic CRASH! and subsequent slams against the metal door sent his heart into a crazy drum solo. The thought of how close he came to death flooded his mind. His fingers tightened around the flashlight.
It's a losin' battle, mate, Foxy told him. Before th' morn, ye'll be out of there.
Mike ignored the voice, just stared at the door, trying to catch and re-regulate his breath.
Don't get cocky. Don't let them get too close.
He turned around and aimed the flashlight at the monitor on his desk. It dawned on him that he hadn't checked it in several minutes. Upon that realization, Mike ran over and turned it on. His eyes immediately went to the lower left corner.
43%.
And according to his watch, he still had over half the night to go.
Mike quickly flipped through the views to do a roll call. Bonnie and Chica walked their fluid dance around the tables in the dining room. The curtains at Pirate Cove fluttered shut, almost mocking him. He didn't see Freddy, but he opened the doors anyway with brief hope that the bear was still far away from him. He needed every scrap of power he could salvage right now.
Just as the second door slid back up into place, Mike heard that deep laughter again. It irritated him more each time he heard it.
"What did you do, you bastard?" he whispered, trying to locate him.
Mike changed the view to Cam 5 to investigate the backstage room, where he last saw the animatronic bear. Empty, save for the strange suit. It looked the same as it had all night, with not a single part out of place.
"Don't you fuck with me, Freddy," Mike scowled.
He flipped back to the dining room. This time, he found the bear's eyes. The tiny pinpricks glimmered across the room, sometimes blocked by Bonnie or Chica walking by. Mike imagined Freddy still wore the same devious smile he saw in the backstage area. He did a quick check on Foxy and the power gauge - 41% - then shut off the monitor.
Every part of him, every sense, stood on edge. Tonight, more than any night this last week, demanded his perfection. And tonight more than any night required further risks. He steadied his nerves, then went to the left door. Mike carefully peeked out to shine the flashlight down the hall. So far, nothing, though he saw Bonnie's back far ahead in the dining room, and he guessed the rabbit headed backstage.
A check to Pirate Cove showed Foxy seemed content with his stage right now, though Mike noticed his snout was bent, and the red glove on one arm threatened to fall off. He smirked a bit. Maybe after running into the door twice tonight, the old pirate might actually leave him alone for a bit.
Freddy's laughter rang again, still on the far side of the building. Mike grimaced and on a hunch, checked the back room. Once more, he found Freddy back there, staring up at him through the camera. He got the impression of a child testing his boundaries.
I'm thinking it, Freddy seemed to say, and you can't stop me.
Mike flipped back to Foxy as insurance, then shut off the monitor. After pondering for a minute, he took a deep breath, then ran over to the left door and shone the flashlight down the hall.
"Hey, Fazfuck!" he screamed. "Get your ass down here!"
Mike waited a second, then saw Bonnie's figure now coming for him - hadn't he gone backstage? - but as he hoped, he heard Freddy's laugh clearly from the dining room.
"Yeah, that's right, you coward! Come get me!"
He quickly ducked back and waited until the last possible second to shut the door. He then checked the camera to ensure Bonnie stayed out, and as he hoped, he saw Freddy's pinprick eyes in the dining room, right where the camera cut off just shy of the prize counter. Mike shut it off again, then moved to the right door.
"What, still not coming?"
This is suicide, he thought. You're running out of power, and Freddy's the one you really don't want getting too close.
Another thought quickly countered that one.
Better to keep him occupied than to have five of these tin cans walking around.
The laughter came closer. Mike let out a small breath of relief as he ducked back into the office. Never in his life did he ever think getting Freddy closer to his door would be a good thing, but all that mattered to him was getting out of this alive. Fewer enemies meant a longer lifespan...and possibly a little more power.
Mike flicked on his flashlight and took a quick risk to check the right hallway. After finding it empty, he dashed to the other side of the room to make sure the left hallway was clear too before opening the door.
Safe for a moment. Mike turned on the monitor just long enough to keep Foxy back, then collapsed into his seat. Locking the door brought the power down to 34%, and a glance at his watch read 3:02am. In his precious moment of safety, he better registered the increasing heat in his office.
The hallways on either side remained silent, with no padded or metal feet hitting the tiled floors. Part of him missed the fan and the buzzing light, but without them, Mike better heard the animatronics shifting and moving with ease beyond their capabilities. He even swore he heard Bonnie and Chica wandering around the dining room.
He gave himself a moment, then turned the monitor back on. Foxy glared up at him from behind his bent snout. Mike smirked and checked for the other three. Only Freddy occupied the dining room now. A flip to the back room showed the strange yellow Bonnie still hadn't moved, though another animatronic joined him, the form in shadow as it wandered toward the camera. Mike expected Bonnie, but saw no tall ears. With Foxy and Freddy accounted for, he quickly deduced her identity.
What was Chica doing back there?
She turned to the side and bent down to examine the animatronic on the table, the outline of her cupcake barely visible. In his mind, Mike heard her singing again.
Sometimes old and sometimes new
We keep the ones we find are true
He held the dial in his hand to change the camera view, but something kept his fingers still. Mike watched as she gently touched the broken animatronic's arm. Chica ran her fingers over it like a mother would her sleeping child. The weird yellow Bonnie stayed in place as it had all night, silent and unmoving, but Chica paid it no notice.
Sometimes found and sometimes lost
The greatest ones are worth the cost
She let go of its arm and stood up straight once more. Slowly, her head turned toward the camera. The outside light glinted off her purple eyes, before they darkened, white pinpricks now shining from the back of the endoskeleton. Slowly, her beak moved up and down with her sweet, haunting voice.
Isn't that right, Mikey?
Mike winced, but like before, nothing in her tone indicated malice, rather...sorrow. Like she pitied him.
Chica turned to leave the room. Mike finally changed the camera view.
A check to Foxy, who threatened to run again. Freddy's laughter forced him to locate him. After a few seconds, Mike found him at the bathrooms. He shut off the monitor. If Bonnie wasn't in the back room or the dining room, he was probably heading his way again.
Not wanting to waste power, Mike clicked on the flashlight and checked the left door. Upon finding it empty, he carefully peered out into the hallway. His hand trembled in time to his pounding heart.
Nothing.
Not even the drawings across from him looked out of place.
Mike stepped back into the office, then glanced to the monitor. He started to hit the power button to turn it on, when his spine chilled, and with it, a horrible thought jumped into his mind.
Chica went where Bonnie normally went. Bonnie wasn't in his usual places. So maybe…
He shone the flashlight up into the window and caught a bit of movement. Mike ran towards the right door, the flashlight now aimed out into the hallway.
"NO!"
The red bowtie came into view first, then his lavender stomach. Mike aimed the flashlight up into the animatronic's face, at the red eyes that stared back at him, at the jaw that hung open and exposed round white teeth. The other night flashed in his mind. Mike's throat ached with pain. He remembered the cold tile on his back and legs, the strength Bonnie exerted to drag him, that horrible pungence that lingered on his suit.
"You won't-not again! I w-won't fucking let you!"
Mike dove to the side to hit the door switch, then scrambled away from the frame, back into the corner of the tiny office. Bonnie reached inside to grab him, but the door came down and forced the animatronic to pull back lest it smash off its hand. The door clicked into place, keeping the night guard safe for the moment. Mike stayed in his corner, curled up and aware of just how much power this would use.
He wasn't going to make it tonight.
If Bonnie didn't leave soon, that door would open on its own anyway when the power inevitably ran out - and even if he left, how much longer could he fend off the others before the surety of his doom?
Mike dropped the flashlight and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook as he fought back tears and tried to let his mind go mercifully blank. To not think of the horrible fate that awaited him like the man on the phone.
Like him.
They planned this somehow, he knew, found a way to drain his power. They even mockingly warned him of their plan. Mike bit his lip and tried not to think of his looming fate, of what Waylon Kent and the janitor would find tomorrow morning. Of whether or not Moira would find out.
Why would she, when he told her nothing of his new job and ignored her calls? Why would she, when none of them knew the truth of what happened before?
Mike wiped his eyes and forced himself to breathe. More importantly...what about Vanna?
...Vanna…
Mike recalled the weird picture on the wall. Like her photograph before, the thought of the drawing gave him hope. Maybe...maybe she was his bargaining chip.
That she had something to do with the children, the strange suit, and the smiling man.
Why else would her picture be included?
Using the wall behind him for support, he pushed himself up. Mike forced in another breath and pressed his back against the closed door until his legs no longer threatened to buckle underneath him.
I still have a chance, he told himself.
A slim one, but a chance, nonetheless.
The flashlight beam shone across the black and white tiles. And in the beam, it lit up something that hadn't been there before.
Paper, old and brittle, but the crayon marks on it looked...oddly new. Mike carefully approached it and bent down to pick it up, along with the fallen flashlight. He even caught the faint smell of fresh wax as he examined this new drawing.
The broken Bonnie, drawn in golden crayon, was whole again, with green circles for eyes and two purple triangles made into a bowtie. Unlike the other animatronics before, this one smiled. Beside the golden Bonnie stood a stick figure man. His hat, purple shirt, and yellow circle on his chest marked him as a security guard. Two black circles marked his eyes, with blue streaks down his face. It held no other features, not even a frowning mouth. Mike hated how it reminded him of the Puppet, and even more...he hated how the drawing panged his chest.
He set the drawing on his desk, unable to focus on it right now. Mike turned on the monitor, not bothering to take his seat. From watching Chica to locking Bonnie out, the power since dropped down to 15%. With Bonnie still lingering on the other side, it visibly dropped down to 13% while he checked the other rooms.
Freddy poked out of the girls' bathroom. Chica wandered in front of the dining room camera. A flick of the flashlight into the right window showed part of a purple shoulder just barely in sight. Mike quickly went back to the monitor, knowing to turn it off and give himself a few minutes to plan.
A shadow came down over the monitor. Mike quickly turned around to see nothing but the back wall of the office and parts of the tile floor. He turned back to the monitor, wanting to dismiss it as nothing, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was no longer alone.
Paranoia made him turn around again. Once more, he found nothing. Mike then remembered how his wallet dropped and made a quick glance to the ceiling. He reached for his flashlight and aimed it above him, running the beam over the ceiling tiles.
Still in place. No movement, no skittering noises above him.
Mike then thrust the beam under his desk. The light revealed nothing but dust, trash, and the cigarette butt he kicked under there the other night. He held his breath, listened for movement, and on a hunch, shot the flashlight into the left hallway.
No one there.
He crept over to the left door and carefully peered out. His eyes met a pair of gold ones, followed not long by the sound of scratching feet.
Mike ducked back into the office and hit the door switch. For the final time tonight, he kept Foxy at bay, listened with dread at the familiar bangs.
Trapped, he knew. Those doors wouldn't hold much longer.
Mike hesitantly took his seat again to check the current camera view and the power.
2%, 3:54am, and nothing but the dining room, now with two creepy animatronics weaving between the tables. Nothing but them and...a reflection.
A reflection of a smiling face with empty eyes.
Mike kicked the chair around and quickly aimed the flashlight at the intruder. His heart jolted at the sight. How the fuck-?!
The Puppet stood tall at nearly six feet, its white face angled down towards the floor. Light from the monitor reflected off its mask and large white buttons. Its long arms hung at its sides, its fingers still. It hovered over him, the striped stumps forming its feet dangling just above the floor. Mike glanced to its wrists, its neck.
Even in the flashlight beam, the dim monitor glow, he saw that no strings held it up.
Mike suddenly noticed the chill that now spread through the room. He struggled to find his voice; his neck throbbed at the thought of speaking. His eyes met the Puppet's dark, empty sockets. The creature hung before him, silent and still.
"Wh-why…?" he managed. "How…?"
On either side, both doors opened once more, having taken their final dregs of power. The monitor behind him shut off. A gentle hum hung in the air as the building powered down.
The Puppet tilted its mask down to face him. From the depths of its eyes, two pinpricks shone and narrowed in on the night guard. At long last, it spoke. Its voice rang in his mind like the others'. Something about it set him on edge. It held an ethereal quality beyond the strange haunted tones of its brethren.
Did you not ask for my help?