"W-what?" William stuttered, "I don't-"

Scar-eye hoisted him upright and then slammed him back down to the table. William groaned.

"Lying is not going to get you anywhere, William. You want to make it out of here, I take it?"

William said nothing.

"WELL?" boomed Scar-eye.

"Y-yes," William breathed.

Then tell me, where is Mike Schmidt?"

"I swear, I don't know!" William burst out, managing to lift himself off the table slightly.

"You're just making this worse on yourself," Scar-eye growled, pulling something out of his coat pocket. Caleb saw a small, crudely made knife.

"William, do you see this knife?" Scar-eye asked, holding it in front of his face, "See how jagged the blade is? The pain of it sliding into your body will be excruciating enough, but the jagged edges will cut open the flesh as it enters and leaves, doing even more damage. If I were to apply this to a certain part-"

He didn't even have to finish. William began struggling in vain as he was placed on his back.

"Please, no! Please God no! I don't know anything!" William begged, struggling and kicking as Scar-eye fished his wallet out of his pants pocket. He opened it, and withdrew a picture of William with a pretty girl, both of them smiling and hugging.

"Pretty girl, eh?" Scar-eye taunted, "Well, let's see if she won't leave you for someone... "whole" after today."

Caleb realised right at that moment what Scar-eye was going to do.

"STOP!" Caleb screamed. Scar-eye turned to him slowly.

"You got something to say?" he said simply.

"Let him go!" Caleb snapped.

Then tell me-"

Caleb couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"HE'S DEAD! YOU GOT THAT? MIKE SCHMIDT IS DEAD!"

There was a shocked silence. The workers in the room gaped at me. Even William, who was breathing heavily and had tears in his eyes.

"Dead?" Scar-eye said.

"Dead, and buried," Caleb confirmed.

Scar-eye slowly released William, who collapsed to the floor.

"How long," he hissed.

"Three months."

"Who did it?"

Caleb was silent for a moment. What could he say? That a living animatronic bear had killed him in the name of justice?

"I don't know," he finally said.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Scar-eye interrogated, his eyes narrowing.

"I wasn't told who."

"So you weren't there?"

"No. I only got told a few days later."

"Where is the body?"

Uh-oh, what would he say here?

"Only one person knows that," Caleb told him, "And he's not here."

John quickened his pace as he saw the small crowd at the front entrance of the restaurant. it wasn't good for business, closing like this out of nowhere. The sooner they got this sorted out and could open the better.

"Sorry about this folks, just some-"
Then he stopped. Through the glass doors he saw customers, all sitting down in their seats, vacant expressions on their faces. One man was walking around, a gun in his hand.

"What the hell is this?" he said aloud, banging on the door. A few people inside looked at him, terrified, mouthing something.

"Sorry folks," John turned to the crowd, "We're closed for the day. I'm going to have to ask everybody to leave."

There were a few irritated remarks, but most of them seemed to know that something very serious was going on. Giving one last look to the terrified customers, he made his way around the back of the building.

There was a window in the storage closet around the back of the building. He tried the back door, but it seem barricaded from the inside. Then he heard tapping. Looking over, he saw Ellie, a worker, holding up some kind of sign, tears in her eyes. John moved closer, and saw words on the sign.

CALL THE POLICE.

His eyes widened, and he nodded, wasting no time in pulling out his cell phone and dialling 911.

"Hello, 911. What is your emergency?" the female operator asked.

"I'm at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and the front doors ar locked. All the customers inside are being held by at least one man with a gun."

"Right, how many hostages?"

"30 or so, possibly more. A worker just held a sign up to the back window saying the call the police. All the doors and windows are locked."

"Okay sir. We're sending three units out to you right now. Please stay on the line."

Sirens blared through the streets as the three police cruisers screeched to a halt in front of the parking lot. John waved over to the officers from the side of the building as they got out of their cars, clad in black uniforms.

"Are you the caller sir?" one of them asked.

"Yes officer," John said quickly, "I'm the manager of the place and I came to work to find all the doors locked. I saw a man walking around with a shotgun."

The officers peered in, observing the scene. The gunman was out of sight.

"Alright, sir. I'll have to ask you to move out of the park lot."

John was ushered out of the parking lot as more units arrived in a black police truck, heavily armored. Police surrounded the building, directing civilians away from the area, managing the news vans which had just arrived, and sending snipers into the office building across the street. John was forced to stay at the entrance to the parking lot, which was blocked off by police barricades. From his vantage point, all he could see were shadows of people moving within the restaurant.

Caleb and the other employees were moved back out into the dining area, and were forced to sit at an empty table. The tables were moved closer together to minimize any chances of running, spare tablecloths were hung over the windows, blocking out most of the sunlight. Scar-eye ordered the employees to escort customers to the bathrooms in groups of two at a time. Everybody wearing a uniform had a job, except Caleb.

"Come with me," barked Scar-eye, picking Caleb up by his arm.

He led Caleb back down the hallway into the office, locking the door behind him. He sat Caleb down in the office chair and used duct tape to secure his arms and legs.

"You say Schmidt is dead?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you don't know where the body is?"

"That's right."

"Do you know why he was killed?"

"He used to molest children here," Caleb told him. Scar-eye raised an eyebrow.

"That so?"

"That's what I was told."

"And who told you?"

"My manager."

"Did your manager bury Mike Schmidt?"

"Yes."

"Why isn't he here?"

"He wasn't meant to be working today. I called him and told him we needed him here."

"Why do you need him?"

There's a problem with one of the animatronics," said Caleb.

"Where is it?"

"I'll show you."

Caleb led Scar-eye to the back door to Pirates Cove.

"In here," Caleb pointed to the door.

Scar eye marched in front of him. Why he wanted to see the animatronics was beyond Caleb, who hoped that Foxy would have heard the commotion and been ready to bite his head off. Scar-eye had his hand on the doorknob, then turned it.

It was jammed.

As he struggled with the door, Caleb's head whirled around. The back door was unguarded, and all he'd need to do was unlock it and bolt out. Looking back, he saw Scar-eye swearing as the doorknob refused to move. Then Caleb darted away from him, clutching the lock, turning it, and in a second he had thrown the door open and was out the door and sprinting around to the front of the cafe.

John was about to move to the other side of the parking lot when he saw a figure in the Freddy's uniform darting around the left side of the building and into a police officer. Both crashed to the ground. Officers moved in, guns drawn, as the man put his hands on his head and waited. As they picked the hostage up, John saw his face.

"Caleb!" he couldn't help but call out. Caleb turned to the sound and his eyes widened as they saw John. The police ushered for John to come over, and John ducked between the barricades and ran right over to them.

"Sir, do you know this man?" one of the officers asked, gesturing to Caleb.

"Yes, he's an employee," John confirmed. The officer turned to Caleb.

"What's your name, son?"

"Caleb."

"Okay Caleb, I need you to tell us slowly what's happening in there."

"There are three gunmen, each wearing suits, and they've all got fake police badges and automatic weapons. One of them has a scar on his eye."

"Okay, how many hostages?"

'Thirty or so. Employees and customers. They have children in there too."

"Okay, that's enough for now. Go over to the ambulance and get checked out."

John led Caleb to the waiting ambulance at the far end of the parking lot. It's back doors were open, and a female EMT was waiting.

"Okay just take a seat here," she said. Caleb sat down on a stretcher.

A few minutes later, the EMT declared Caleb fine.

"Mind if I have a word with him for a moment?" John asked. She nodded, and John led Caleb across the street.

"Caleb," he said slowly, "What do these guys want?"

"Schmidt," Caleb said weakly, just now comprehending that he was safe, "They're looking for Mike."