Follow-up to "Ennard's Midnight Snack".
Begin Prompt in 3, 2, 1…
He Would
Prompt: Could El Chip be there in the morning?
It was hard to pretend that everything was alright after what had happened. Everyone, including his assailant, had believed that he was nothing more than an empty shell waiting to be cracked open and emptied. Nobody ever thought of what he felt or considered that he felt at all. But he was used to that.
Chipper's life had never been a pleasant one. It sounded like a comical joke to say that he competed with Freddy Fazbear, but it wasn't. It was a cold reality. Whether Freddy was alive or not, whether his restaurant was open or not, Chipper was constantly in a state of competing with him. They were created and opened around the same time, but Freddy's was always more popular.
El Chip had only been El Chip for half a year. Before that, he had been Chipper from Chipper & Son's, Chipper from Hickory, Dickory, and Doc's Funcade, Chipper from Howie Hound's BBQ Pound, Bouncing Beaver from the Funtime Factory, and Chipper from the warehouse basement. Unlike Freddy Fazbear, Chipper had gotten passed around more than an old slice of pizza.
It had taken years before he had gotten the break of becoming El Chip. As soon as he was refurbished, he was brought to his own brand-new restaurant, El Chip's Fiesta Buffet. Unlike all the other ones, this time it was a roaring success.
The beaver animatronic was performing in front of dozens of families a week and finally getting real attention. Sure, it was weird being surrounded by a band of animatronics that weren't alive, but that only enticed him to stand out more on his own. The smell of spices, the sound of festive music, the bright colors and decor; compared to the molding warehouse, the restaurant was a dream come true.
...And then that terrible night had come. In one instant, something had broken in- a dismantled and positively grotesque mechanical thing- and had gutted him. It gorged itself on his wires, taking all that it wanted, and he hadn't been able to do anything. He just pretended he wasn't alive because he knew he couldn't fight back and waited for it to leave.
They found him the next morning and tended to him. To El Chip's relief, an immediate scrapping wasn't what followed, but a long and tedious round of repairs. For two weeks he had technicians replacing and repairing so much of his interior wiring. It had felt disgusting, but he held on and waited.
Then he was back on stage, and it almost felt like everything went back to normal. Almost, but not quite. As much as he hated to admit it, El Chip was scared now. During the day he could perform with only the slightest hiccups but would become increasingly antsy throughout the day before evening came.
Night was the worst. He would stare at the stage curtains in silence and listen carefully, trying to hear if it was coming back to finish the job. It surely knew where he was; a thin curtain wasn't going to change that. All he could do was sit and wait for when that thing would get hungry again, and it was literally eating him up inside.
Then it finally happened. El Chip was listening from his stage when he heard a loud thump from the far hallway that led to the back door. He hesitated and listened closer to the noise, only to hear another thumping noise. Something was trying to get in and he knew it would. They got a new lock, but it was still a simple door lock, and they hadn't gotten any other kind of security yet.
With a loud bang and a crash, he knew that it had broken the door in. The panic returned and El Chip backed away from the microphone stand and looked around the stage. It didn't take long before he spotted the door to the backstage and all at once realized that this time, he had to do something.
His footsteps were slow, and his legs felt stiff as he tried to cross the stage quietly. He could hear it creaking and squeaking in the hallway and knew it would be here soon to finish what it had started. The chances of El Chip getting repaired after being destroyed a second time were slim.
And even if he was, it would keep coming back. Unless he did something, it would keep coming back and taking what it wanted from him. This would have to end tonight... And he knew exactly what needed to be done.
El Chip let himself into the backstage room and shut the door behind him. There were a few stacks of shelves, plenty of cardboard boxes, and toolboxes, but only one thing would be of use. The animatronic scanned over the room before fixating on the stacked boxes and walking over to them, dropping his mandolin on the way.
He lifted off a few boxes and tossed them aside with little care, not concerned with the noise as he dug through them. Then he found a dusty box at the very bottom with the words "Chipper and Son's Lumber Co" written in black marker. He tore open the flaps and began to dig inside.
It was at the very bottom of the box. It too looked dusty and forgotten, but as El Chip wrapped his fingers around the handle, he felt something familiar awaken inside. Its weight was a comfort and the handle felt right when clasped in his fingers. It felt like he was being reunited with an old friend.
Everyone always said that the axe was too dangerous to be a prop. He used to even wonder if it was the reason the business failed. Now it was a relief to hold it in his hands. Its weight and its dull but hefty head made it more than just a prop now. Now it was his ticket out of another mauling, a weapon of self-defense, and what would soon be lodged in that broken mat of wires that pretended to be a clown.
He could hear the heavy footsteps approaching the door and quickly moved behind some of the props in the back corner of the room. He clutched the axe tightly as he waited for it to let itself in. This was it; one way or another it would be ending tonight. It would be just like chopping down a tree.
It wasn't a matter if El Chip could do it. He would do it, and he would be the one still there in the morning.