Mike shook his head. "I must've eaten too much pizza," he muttered to himself. Then he glanced back up. "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. 6 AM means my shift is over. I've got to go now."

Chica gasped in disappointment. "Oh, do you have to?" she said, her feathers drooping. "It'd be so much better if you stayed with us, Mr. Mike."

"Yeah, come on, laddie. Stay with us a while," Foxy said.

"Y-You could help us start the day," Bonnie suggested sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Mike smiled weakly. "I can't. The pizzeria's closed, remember?"

The animatronics' eyes widened in shock. They didn't know about this.

"Closed today? But it's Tuesday!" Chica exclaimed. "Why are we closed?"

Mike stopped. Did these guys seriously not know that the place was shutting down? "Um...manager's orders. He said he was gonna fix some things, so we're closing for the rest of the week," he said quickly.

"Well, I'll be darned," Foxy said. "If that was tha' case, tha' manager could've at least programmed our systems to tell us that."

"It was last-minute. He didn't have time," Mike added.

"Hmm...we'll have to tell Freddy that we're closed for the week. If we didn't know, he might not know either," Bonnie said thoughtfully. Then he turned to the night guard. "So is no one really coming in today? Not even the manager?"

Mike shook his head no.

"Then you shouldn't leave. We'll be lonely," Chica said sadly.

"I'm sorry, Chica, but I have other things to attend to," Mike said. "I have bills to pay and stuff like that. But I will be back tonight, honest."

Chica looked hopeful. "You sure, Mr. Mike? You're coming back here tonight?"

"At the stroke of midnight," Mike promised.

As soon as Mike came out of the pizzeria, he couldn't help but exhale loudly. "Oh, shit..." he gasped.

The animatronics were moving. They moved again! But fuck all that, they were ALIVE. They actually had human emotions and ate and slept.

Robots! Who were ALIVE! How awesome was that! It was totally something you'd see in the movies!

"I gotta call the boss," Mike said breathlessly as he whipped out his phone and started punching in numbers. "He's gonna shit bricks for sure!"

The line on the other end kept ringing, which was odd. Usually, the manager picked up quickly. Why was he not answering now?

"Come on, man, pick up the fucking phone!" Mike hissed. "Answer me!" He was just too flustered with the events that had happened in the last six hours. He had to tell someone! He couldn't just keep quiet about this; but then again, who else would believe it?

No answer.

The night guard kept calling several times, hoping that the manager would answer. He left about a thousand messages, but no answer ever came.

Mike sighed in frustration as he shut the phone. Well, this was a damn shame. He didn't know any other numbers to call or even where the manager lived.

"Well, Mikey, ol' boy, looks like you're on your own for now," Mike told himself as he got into his pile of scrap metal (aka his car), started the engine, and drove off. He'd find a way to contact the manager sooner or later.

True to his word, Mike pulled up to the vacant parking lot many hours later, at 11:55 PM. He whistled to himself contentedly as he stopped the ignition and got out of his piece-of-shit car.

He had never felt so...peaceful ever since the day he applied for his job. Before, those past couple of weeks were filled with dread, fear, and full-out panic. Filled with the idea that he might not survive to see the sun rise the next day.

But now...he felt calm. He had really gotten friendly with the animatronics, now that they were benevolent, and he no longer felt that cold chill racing up his spine. He felt...okay.

He unlocked the doors and stepped inside. "I'm here!" he called out, saddling his overnight bag, along with his toolkit.

"Ooh! Bonnie, Foxy, come on! Mr. Mike's here!" Chica cried happily as she burst out of the kitchen. Instead of her traditional bib, she was wearing an apron dotted with the same design, and it was covered in flour. It didn't take a genius to figure out that she had been cooking again, especially with the aroma of fresh dough in the air.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came back, Mr. Mike!" Chica gushed as she wrapped her feathery wings around Mike and gave him a bone-crushing hug.

No, seriously. Bone-crushing. Chica was the shortest of the animatronics, but shit, she was fucking strong!

"L-Little tight there, Chica," Mike gasped, hoping his ribs wouldn't crack under the pressure.

Chica noticed his distress and immediately let go. "Oops, sorry!" she said sheepishly. "It's been a long time since I was able to hug the children. I guess my programming is a bit off."

"Lassie, ye say tha' lad's here again?" Foxy said, his head peeking out of Pirate's Cove. Once he saw the night guard, he let out an excited whoop and ran over to him, his metallic feet thumping on the carpeted floor. "Hey there, matey! Glad to see ye again!"

Seeing Mike, Bonnie quickly put down his guitar and jumped down from the Show Stage. "Mike! You're back!" he said excitedly. "And you brought your tools!"

"Yeah, I did," Mike said, holding up his toolkit proudly. "Now there's just one question: Which one of you will I work on first?"

The animatronics all started talking at once.

"It'll be me, of course," Foxy said, thumping his hook to his chest. "I mean, really! Me jaw's right busted and me chest needs a new fur cover!"

"But I've been leaking oil recently, and my voice box's glitching out. I should get fixed first!" Bonnie contradicted.

"I could use some new servomechanisms for my legs. They've been locking up quite a bit," Chica spoke up. "And my left eye seems to veer off."

Mike laughed, as if the robots were nothing more than bickering children. "Well, I'm gonna go drop off my overnight bag in the Office. When I come back, I better have an answer from all three of you," he said, grinning as he headed over to the Office, his bag in hand.

No one noticed that the Show Stage was completely empty.

Mike punched in the button, and the door whooshed open. A gust of cold air hit him.

The night guard frowned. This didn't seem right. He had turned everything off when he left hours ago. So why was the fan whirring by on high speed?

He stepped inside, taking care to watch his step, since it was very dark in here. In fact...it was darker than it should have been. The small lightbulb that was overheard was still on, but quite dim. He could only see a few inches in front of him.

"Huh, weird," Mike said softly to himself as he walked over to the desk and set his bag down. He turned to leave, but then stopped when he heard a low, unearthly growl.

That all-too-familiar chill raced up Mike's back again. His blood ran cold as he turned around slowly. He could hear the heavy breathing of the one behind him.

He only had time to open his mouth and let out a terrified shriek before two large, cold paws reached out and seized him.