"Hello, hello! Hey, you're doing great!" Another call. Mike glowered at the screen, half-listening to the man on the phone.
Foxy was moving now as well.
Once again, not normal.
What made it even weirder was how he would peek at the camera, ugly rubber snout poking from the curtains, then sliding away from sight, as if he knew he was being watched. Mike looked away for fear of losing power like the man on the phone had warned weeks ago.
He didn't know what would happen, but personally, Mike didn't want to find out the hard way.
...dee dum dum diddly diddly doo...
Animatronics couldn't talk unless hooked into a showtape powered by air cylinders that ran their every move, and yet the distant sound of Foxy's voice leaked through the monitors. Mike sat back in his chair, studying the screen, a hand absently rubbing his face.
He could tell that his investigation was nowhere near being completed, but would be coming to an end soon. Someone in the building, the corporation, or maybe just some guy, was trying to put him to a stop.
Picked up his Security Logbook Binder and skipped multiple worn, crispy papers to a mostly open page, just after 'Incident Reports'. The binder was so old and crusty that it couldn't close properly, so stuffed with crinkled papers and post-it notes that it couldn't close properly.
He found that the book was heftier than usual and began back-pedaling to his previous pages of notes and reports to find crisp, clean pages.
Mike's brow furrowed as he began to desperately search for his written accounts of the strange incidents plaguing his shifts since the Trypophobia Boy had been discovered, only to turn up empty-handed.
Anger soon set in when he began to read the new pages that now replaced his hard work.
Welcome new Employee to your first week at Freddy's! This journal was designed for you, as a new, improved way to go through training and pass the time during your night time shifts!
After each night's work, we require that you self-reflect on the activities provided and your performance as an employee. These tasks/activities will be reviewed and monitored.
First activity, Please Put Your Personal Information for Security Below:
Mike slammed the binder down.
First the condescending phone calls and now this?
He was right, someone was on his trail. He pulled a slip of paper clipped onto the glossy new page, typed, not written.
'We thought you could use something more substantial for record-keeping. This is a corporate setup, all night shift employees across the franchise are required to fill out the provided pages.'
This was news to Mike.
He'd never heard of a single nightshift at any corporation, whether it was cars or museums or county fairs, having a fancy new 'Log Book'.
Mike skimmed the pages of silly activities and frilly accident reports, mumbling the titles of quizzes and prompts.
'Design Your Own Fazbear Band Member!'
'Ten Reasons to Love Your Job!'
'Which Band Member Are You?'
And most embarrassingly, coupons for eight dollars off a pizza.
"What is this, Teen Beat?" Mike slammed the book shut, "What am I, a sixteen year old girl with braces?"
It was obvious that someone was getting suspicious, but with a lack of handwriting or particularly damning evidence, it could be either William or Henry.
He had grown to know both of them were perverted nutcases, but who was the one who'd go off the edge, who'd kill someone and go to corporate-wide lengths to cover it up? Who was the more unhinged of the two?
Mike flipped through the binder once more, studying.
Home Improvement Suggestions.
Keeping Your Office Space Uncluttered.
List Your Worst Habits Here:
Ads and Local Businesses:
He stopped at the ad spaces.
A picture of Dollface in a skimpy security uniform complete with hat, badge and hot pants greeted him on the front of the section, posing in the same chair as he was now, captioned, 'Help Wanted! Recruit Your Friends for a Position in Security Today!'
He ran a fat, sweaty hand across his forehead, appalled by the small blurb advertising the benefits as Dollface smiled brightly at him, white teeth framed with garish red lipstick.
He flipped the page and found similar of Izzy, dressed as Chica and Regina in her uniform cooking and serving pizza, advertising a need for waitresses and line cooks.
His breathing got hard and smothered, angered at the images. As he studied the pages decorated with more pinup style shots of the girls in uniform. They seemingly danced around paid ads for local restaurants like Daisy's and the Southern Belle, and family businesses like Fischer Farms. Even more unappetizing were chains like Shell Oil and MacDonalds'.
He clapped the binder shut, thoughts racing.
Did parents know? Would these go national? Would these be used for-
Thump Thump thump thump thump thump!
His thoughts were interrupted by heavy but quick footsteps.
His first thoughts were the animatronics, but animatronics can't run. The air cylinders they were attached to locked them in place like living statues.
He didn't have time to dispute logic, only time to act. And act now he would have to, as whatever it was, was moving faster than it should have.
In an automatic reflex, Mike slapped the door button as a flash of red began to come into view in the doorway. A loud metal 'thump' reverberated through the office as Foxy, having gotten over his apparent stage fright, angrily slammed into the door.
The creature howled an uncanny scream, a monster trapped somewhere between human child and machine.
He sat back, ease not returning as he saw the emptied Pirate's Cove flickering on screen.
2 A.M.
He had a long four hours ahead of him.