Soon, the party ends, and Mike asked Jeremy if he needed a lift back to his workplace. Jeremy agreed, and was able to get acquainted with Mike's notoriously loud green pickup.

"Sorry. Hate this thing." Mike growled as the engine sputtered and coughed.

"Nah, its cool. My brother's car is worse. It's one of those seventies style Volkswagen buses; I'm surprised it still runs. You know, he's really into the graffiti stuff, so one time he invited all his friends over to help him graffiti it. It's the flashiest car in town." Jeremy laughed a little. "My brother's a weirdo."

"What's he like?" Mike was curious, as he'd never had siblings.

"Ah... well, we talk sometimes, but I haven't seen him for a while, since I'm always wrapped up in schoolwork. His name's Jeff, and he's a high school dropout. He can't hold a job very well, so lately he's been living with his friends. But he's still a great guy, even with him being as lazy as he is. He remembered my birthday. He gave me my sketchbook." Jeremy traced the edges of his sketchbook fondly. "He's actually the one that raised me."

"Lucky. I'm an only child. Was it fun to grow up with him?" Mike tried to imagine taking care of
a sibling. It just sounded too difficult. He remembered Amy's niece. Then he quickly brushed it off. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of Amy; not just when he was getting better...

Jeremy made a face. "It was an adventure, I can tell you that."

They drove in silence for a little, with Jeremy looking out the window most of the time and Mike nodding to the music on the radio. It wasn't awkward between them anymore. It seemed, finally, they were getting used to each other.

When Mike dropped Jeremy off at the sister location, he wished him luck. After all, Jeremy's robots weren't near as nice as Mike's. Not yet, at least.

"Make sure to wind up the music box." Mike smiled. Jeremy seemed to really like the Puppet, so Mike made a point of teasing him about it.

"Mmkay, mmkay. I get it." Jeremy rolled his eyes. "You, don't go to sleep on the job."

"C'mon, I said that was one time."

"You don't get paid if you don't work."

"Point taken. See you tomorrow."

"Mm hmm, you too."

Jeremy waved once as Mike pulled out, then turned around and entered the building. Mike got onto the road, turned the radio to the midnight news, and drove, feeling quite unconcerned.

He never knew he'd just left a crime scene.

Jeremy peered through the mask, into the hall. Three animatronics stood in the hallway, grinning creepily and glaring at him with the pinpoints of white within the black of their eyes. For some reason, their facial scanners seemed to be working... differently. It still identified Jeremy as Jeremy and the Freddy head as Freddy... but when Jeremy wore the mask, it didn't change his identity this time... or didn't seem to. It didn't matter how long Jeremy wore the mask; they just kept coming.

Jeremy swallowed. He knew this would happen at one point. That the robots would catch on. He just wasn't expecting it to happen so soon.

What now? Truthfully, Jeremy was at a loss. Would he die tonight? Was he, Jeremy Fitzgerald, actually going to die tonight?

If it'd been any other night, Jeremy would just sigh, lean back in his chair, and stare at the ceiling, waiting for the animatronics to get it over with. But tonight... for some reason, he felt more determined than he'd ever felt before. His selfish hope to be freed from his mortal body was, somehow, overpowered - although by what, Jeremy wasn't sure. But he was sure of one thing. I'm going to survive this.

The Mangle was hanging from the ceiling. Balloon Boy giggled from the left vent, and Withered Chica warbled from the right. All the toys were in the hall, as well as Withered Foxy. The cameras told him that the other Withereds were creeping up the halls as well.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes. He set the mask down, slowly. He grabbed his flashlight, and hovered his gloved thumb over the switch. This would take some crazy obstacle-course stunts, but if he could make it through the robots... across the hall... past the kitchen...

Jeremy glanced at the vents again. Here comes Balloon Boy. Soon, everyone else will follow suit.

He had about five seconds to act before they struck. Approximately. Assuming they were really working together at all. They seemed different, tonight. Unnervingly different.

Five, four, three, two...

Jeremy flashed his flashlight suddenly at the group in the hall. They all simultaneously hissed and covered their eyes, but Jeremy only had mere seconds to make his escape.

The Mangle swung down to chomp into his skull, but Jeremy was quick to dodge it and it flew over his head without harm. Balloon Boy dove at him, and Jeremy sidestepped him, landing Jeremy's least favorite robot in a confused heap on the desk, which satisfied him greatly. Chica was having trouble getting out of her vent so Jeremy left her alone and ran straight into the hallway, blinking his flashlight several times to keep the robots disoriented.

It helped, but only in the case of blinding them. They swung their limbs around, flailing wildly to catch some part of Jeremy despite their visual disability. The night guard was nicked several times by the sharp edges of their metal fingers. One of Toy Freddy's legs caught Jeremy's own and he was sent sprawling across the tile, falling and hitting his head. His flashlight skidded out of his grasp.

Jeremy could not think straight. The edge of his scalp burned and was slick with a dark sticky fluid he could only guess was blood. His lip hurt. So did his arm. It was dark. He couldn't see. Growls and the clanking of metal seemed to close in on all sides, and Jeremy quickly wrapped his head in his arms to protect his face. It was natural human instinct, but Jeremy felt, all the way in the back of his mind, that the second reason he did this was because if he were to be mauled and killed, at least they could identify him when they found him in the morning.

This was it. Jeremy Fitzgerald was going to die.

He found himself making some stupid deathbed wishes. He hoped his brother wouldn't get too drunk after learning the news; that'd be bad for his health. He hoped Mr. Smalls would hire that one high school guy - he couldn't remember his name - in his place. That kid looked like he needed the money. Jeremy hoped that all his bullies would contemplate the pain they'd inflicted on him, and secretly wished them slow WiFi and a hundred different occasions for which they could step on a Lego.

Lastly, he hoped Mike would be okay. He'd turned out to be a good friend.

Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut. Everything was dark yet loud and full of life. Savage stomps on the ground and nasty hisses lead Jeremy to believe that it wouldn't be over quickly.

The last thing he heard, though, wasn't a loud growl, or Freddy's stupid song.

It was Pop! Goes the Weasel.