Sunday, November 14, 1993
Mike sat on the edge of an ambulance, a blanket around his shoulders as he tried to process everything that happened. One of the paramedics gave him a temporary fix for his nose with the supplies on hand and treated some of his other injuries. His body ached like hell and it hurt to breathe, thanks to the bruising around his ribcage. The paramedics determined nothing aside from his nose was broken, and allowed him his turn to speak to the officers once they finished their assessment.
That was an hour or two ago.
The moment the police arrived, everything descended into madness. He could only imagine how they felt walking into the scene before them: the animatronics, before thought to be confined to their stage, now all over the scene, with one assisting an injured man with express purpose, while two kept watch, ensuring the retention of their prisoner. A large purple rabbit wandering around the room with an air of nervous resistance and smacking its hand, like it wanted to do something, but couldn't. An even older animatronic rabbit resting against the prize counter, shut down and partially covered in blood, where they undoubtedly put two-and-two together with the injured man's wounds, and an old endoskeleton standing near the stage.
That was before they noticed the deformed little ghost girl flickering in and out of sight.
Vesper proved herself to be more than an illusion when she touched some of their hands and left her ghostly chill. The following chaos of rightfully freaked out police officers and paramedics forced her to disappear into Puppet's box, where she wouldn't be seen. Will somehow diffused the whole thing before it got too out of hand, but Mike was certain he overheard the police chief mention she'd leave that particular weirdness out of the report.
He tightened the blanket around his shoulders as he let his mind continue to process. His fingers brushed over his security badge. Mike didn't remember when he retrieved it, only that he showed it to the officers at some point as evidence of his position. He also gave them Freddy Wickes' wedding ring. Will took over explaining its significance and offered to get his copy of the missing person's report.
Greg had since been taken to the nearest hospital with a police escort. Despite their best efforts, he needed immediate medical attention. Mike overheard the paramedics on-scene mention Greg's luck that he didn't bleed out as much as they feared as they set him up for transport. As they wheeled him away, the bastard was still lucid enough to claim his right to silence, not that it would do him much good for long.
With Greg taken care of, Bonnie, Foxy, Freddy, and Chica all returned to their stages, their task complete for the moment. It unnerved the officers and paramedics at how calculated and deliberately they moved, something Mike quickly chalked up to facial recognition software and artificial intelligence. He knew they'd make a more official decision once they went over the recordings, but after the debacle with Vesper, it was wise to not bring up the ghosts. It didn't make the animatronics' watchful eyes any less discomforting as they surveyed the room, observing the officers as they went about their investigation.
Mike shot a glance at his watch.
3:46am.
"How are you feeling?"
Mike glanced up. Vanna stood beside him, holding her own blanket around her shoulders.
"Like hell," Mike muttered.
Vanna looked over to a group of officers who were still talking with Will. From the snippets they caught and the device in his hand, he was explaining how to get the data from the audio activation sensors.
"I can't believe it's over," Vanna said. "After all these years, everything just…not really fell into place, but just kind of...came together? If that makes sense."
"Yeah," Mike said. "I know what you mean."
He shifted a bit for comfort.
"But it's not over yet. There's still the investigation, the trial…"
"The beginning of the end, then," Vanna corrected. "At least it's in sight."
Mike nodded in agreement. He pulled a hand from under the blanket and reached for her. Vanna took his hand with a small smile and squeezed it.
"Thanks for trusting me," she said, quietly.
Mike nodded.
"Thanks for being there for me," he whispered. "And not...even just tonight. Ever since we met...you've always had my back, whether I wanted it or not. You were there for me even when I pushed everyone else away. When I couldn't...handle things."
"Someone's got to watch your stubborn ass," Vanna said, coolly.
She let go of her playful tone, and picked up a more somber one.
"But I knew the moment I saw you that you needed someone. When you moved in next door, I saw someone lost in his own thoughts and struggling to even exist. I didn't know what happened then, just that I saw sadness and longing. And just like that, I decided you needed a friend."
Vanna smiled a little, though it wavered.
"...I wasn't trying to replace him," she whispered. "I just wanted to see you smile."
"I know," Mike told her.
He glanced over to the building, up at the flashing sign where Freddy's eyes lingered longer than they should have. Police tape now covered the entrance, a good chunk of the parking lot was blocked off, and once in a while, he saw an officer inside pass by. Mike let his mind go blank for a moment, before a thought came to him. He began to laugh, one that threatened to shift to a sob. Mike reached up to rub his temples, still helplessly laughing.
"It's...it's funny," he said, trying to force it back.
"What's funny?" Vanna asked.
Mike gave himself a moment, then ran his hand down his face, the strange laughter dying down.
"He did the exact same thing," Mike told her, "when I lost my parents."
His hand settled over his lips, his fingers clawing into his cheeks to keep it there. He shuddered as he forced back another pitiful laugh and took another moment to calm down.
"Both of you just...decided, 'hey, look at this...this poor bastard. I'm gonna make him smile'," he said. "And then you did, d-damn what I thought about it."
The laughter came back, more faintly this time. Mike covered his mouth again as they shifted to weak whimpers.
"...What did I...what did I d-do to...deserve such good friends?"
Vanna took a seat beside him and pulled him into her arms.
"You helped me find Vesper," she whispered, "and you lead me to a part of my family that I didn't even know existed."
She rested her head over his.
"We made you smile because we wanted to," she said, "and you repaid it by being the friend we know you are."
Mike nodded. He kept his hand over his mouth and swallowed a sob as he leaned into her, struggling to find any more words to say. He settled on just being in her presence as he allowed himself to go numb.
Neither of them noticed a new car pulling up, or a door slamming.
"SCHMIDT!"
Mike and Vanna winced as they turned toward the source of the screeching. Will and some of the officers looked up too as Waylon Kent stormed over to his employee. Even in just the glow of the flashing police lights, his face looked like a plum. Mike groaned internally, and braced himself for the incoming tirade.
"What the HELL were you thinking?" Waylon demanded. "You-!"
"I KNOW!" Mike screamed, for once not letting Waylon finish his sentence.
He pushed himself from the ambulance and ignored Vanna's attempts to pull him back as he marched over to face the belligerent manager.
Maybe it was the pent-up stress of the last week. Maybe it was the realization of the next possible word that was likely going to fall out of Waylon's mouth, and the inevitability of what would follow. Maybe his give-a-damn finally broke beyond repair.
No matter the reason, Mike approached Waylon with express purpose as he yelled:
"I'm fucking FIRED!"
He reached up to yank off his badge, wincing as he moved. He then tossed the cheap metal at Waylon's feet. Waylon gaped at him for a moment.
"Schmidt…"
One of the officers started to head toward what seemed to be an escalating situation. With the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through him, Mike relished in the freedom to tell his now ex-boss off.
"I'm done with this fucking place!" he continued, gesturing wildly towards the building beside him. "I'm done locking myself in that dinky office and hoping the damn power lasts! I'm done being hunted down by crazy robots! Oh, and I helped catch your killer, so you're fucking welcome!"
"I know that!" Waylon said, finally getting a word in. "I was just going to say you could have gotten yourself killed, and I'm glad you're alive!"
He took a deep breath, then reached up to rub his temples. The officer who had been approaching stopped. He awkwardly hung back as he watched the tension between the two men suddenly dissipate. Waylon took notice of him, and instinctively went into damage control mode. He gave the officer a quick thanks, an identification as the head manager, and an assurance that his tiff with his employee was under control. The officer nodded, but stayed put, just in case. Waylon then turned back to Mike.
"I was...worried about you," he said. "No sane person works a full week here, and I don't like getting calls in the middle of the night about my employees getting hurt."
"Who called-?"
"Doesn't matter," Waylon said. "Are you all right?"
"I'll live," Mike said.
"Good," Waylon said, gruffly.
Mike smirked a bit. The fire in him died down.
"...Thanks," he said. "That actually means a lot."
He took a breath.
"But I'm still fired?"
"Damn right, you are," Waylon said, almost proudly. "You're reckless, foul-mouthed, and keep giving me attitude. You only had a job because you showed up to do it, and did it better than the last guy."
He crossed his arms.
"And after that stunt you pulled tonight, you're a liability."
Mike actually laughed.
"Never thought I'd be happy to hear that."
"You're off your rocker, Schmidt."
"And then some."
Waylon shook his head.
"It wouldn't matter, anyway. I had enough to get us through the end of the year, but after this fiasco, we're done."
"And it's probably for the better," Mike said. "Let this miserable place die off, and let the ghosts rest."
"That's only a rumor," Waylon muttered. "Ghosts don't exist."
Mike looked over to Vanna, who returned it knowingly.
"Metaphorical ghosts," she said with a shrug.
Waylon looked over to her, properly noticing her for the first time. He blinked a few times, trying to determine if what he saw was real. He saw that face daily, smiling from a picture in the manager's office.
"...Bonnie?" he whispered in disbelief. "Bonnie Wickes?"
Vanna simply gave him a warm smile. She watched his eyes widen and his mouth gape like a fish...then broke into a laugh, unable to keep it up as the manager practically gave himself an aneurism.
"Nah, just messing with you. She was my aunt."
Vanna gave him a devious grin.
"But the resemblance is pretty uncanny, huh?"
Waylon stared at her for another moment, then turned away, throwing up his hands.
"I quit," he said. "I don't even want to know."
That sent both Mike and Vanna into a fit of laughter, to which Mike clutched his sore ribs, even as another bout of laughter surged through him. Waylon shook his head as he made his way to Will, who was just finishing up with the officers. Will gave him a weary smile as he intercepted Waylon.
"Thanks for comin'," Will said.
"When my phone rings in the middle of the night, it's probably important," Waylon muttered.
"Couldn't be helped," Will said. "There's been an incident, and we're upper management."
He gave Waylon a quick rundown of the night's events. Waylon already knew some of it from the initial call, but he grew more grim with each new added detail.
"Has it gotten to the news yet?" he asked.
"Chief Galloway is tryin' to keep a lid on it for now," Will said, "but we both know it's gonna make tomorrow's evening edition."
He frowned.
"Another incident at Freddy Fazbear's," he muttered. "That alone'll get folks' attention."
Waylon shook his head with a sigh.
"Guess we'll have to get started on a statement," he said, "and the paperwork."
He sobered a little.
"...How are you holding up, William?"
Will's attention briefly went to the ambulance, where Mike and Vanna had since settled down and casually talked amongst themselves, then to the police tape at the front door. He turned back to Waylon.
"It's been a long night," Will said, "and I'm already weary from knowin' this long ride ain't over just yet, but I also haven't felt better in years."
He smiled a little.
"I'll rest a lot easier now, knowing the man behind all this has finally been caught."
Will gestured back to the night guard and his great-niece, both of whom now hesitantly laughed about something else.
"And I'm not the only one. All kinds of old wounds've been ripped open this week."
He looked back at Waylon.
"More'n that," Will said, "many of 'em can finally start to heal."
Waylon simply nodded.
"Schmidt's right," he said. "I think it's time this place closed once and for all. I don't think we'll ever recover from this."
"We'll see what the future holds," Will said, quietly. "For now, I think it's time we all got some rest."