Mike was upset, and understandably so, Freddy sympathized. Who knew what Foxy could get up to by himself. He had never been outside, and if they were going to find him, they needed to act, and fast. Mike was pacing inside his office, muttering to himself.
"He's not going to hurt anyone, is he?" Mike suddenly asked, turning to the three animatronics, who looked at him in surprise. Freddy spoke up first.
"Of course not. At least, not intentionally. He isn't used to interacting with people, Michael, it's been decades since he could, since any of us could," he explained.
"He's not going to bite a kid, right?" Mike questioned, not listening.
"Absolutely not!" Bonnie cried, horrified at the thought, "We love kids!"
"But the Bite of '87…" Mike began.
"Oh yes, that little fiasco," Freddy said, eyes drooping in memory, "We're never going to live that down, are we?"
"A kid lost his frontal lobe, Freddy!" Mike said indigently, "Of course not!"
"It wasn't a kid that got bit," Freddy explained calmly, "It was a parent, and… was unpreventable."
"So it was an accident?" questioned Mike.
"Not… exactly," Freddy began, "But first you need to understand a little bit about Foxy's programming. He's programmed to be 'captain' of his 'crew,' effectively making him feel responsible for the kids he entertained. This was done to have another responsible figure keeping the kids safe while they played."
"So? That doesn't seem so bad," Mike commented.
"And for the longest time, it wasn't," Freddy continued, "It never amounted to more than breaking up squabbles, reporting injuries, that sort of thing. But before we continue on with that, it is also important to know another… quirk. Foxy… doesn't like to be touched. Never has. If it weren't for the love of kids we all had instilled on us, he probably would never have stepped off stage and roamed around the restaurant. But back to the point.
"It was August 12, 1987, right at the end of our summertime rush, the busiest time of the year. Foxy had had a very pressing day, you have to understand, and was dealing with stress, an emotion he had never felt before. There had been a large party, much like the one you had to deal with, and, similar to you, they needed another person to help out," Freddy told.
"Let me guess: Foxy?" assumed Mike.
"Sharp as a tack, Michael," Freddy confirmed with a small smile, "Foxy was the only one of us that had a sense of protection built-in, since he operated independently of the main show floor, and at the time Management didn't question a robot acting in charge. It was clearly a little a bit too much for him to handle, and as the day wore on, he wore down. I noticed the change first. His responses were slower, required more time to act, sometimes he would stand in place for nearly a minute before figuring out where he needed to go. Once the party ended, Foxy made his way to the manager, complaining of slowing down.
"Our day manager was nice enough, and agreed to get Foxy some downtime Backstage with our mechanic, Nathan. But on the way…" Freddy's eyes seem to become unfocused, distant, as did Chica and Bonnie's.
They could see Foxy walking back slowly, his pathfinding struggling to keep up with his travel. He would stop and start, sometimes for minutes, before resuming his journey. Being surrounded by kids only seemed to make it worse, and he was forced to ignore them. Right as he reached the stage, a man yelled his name,
"Foxy!" he called, "Can I take a picture with you and my kids?"
Foxy turned and stalled, thinking up a response. But the turn and pause seemed to be a silent affirmative to the proud parent, who stepped over next to him. And reached his arm up and fumbled trying to place it across Foxy's shoulders. Suddenly Foxy's head turned to face him, and Freddy could hear him mutter something about not being touched.
The man looked at him confused, "What? C'mon, buddy, it's just a picture,"
"Dad, it's fine, leave him alone," the man's daughter told him.
The man argued back, "No! I paid money here, I should get a picture! C'mon, dear, look at the camera and smile," he said, motioning towards the nervous employee acting as photographer.
"I dunno, man," the employee said, "I'd listen to him."
"Oh, please, he's just a robot! Look!" the man turned and faced the stalled Foxy, grabbing his torso and rocking him back in forth, his gyros struggling to keep balance in Foxy's slowed state. Pleased at seeing no reaction, he spoke to the employee, still facing Foxy.
"See? A bucket of bolts, so can we just get on with-," the man began, before time slowed down.
Freddy saw Foxy snap his head forward, mouth closing around the man's head, before biting down. After a long pause, the room was thrown into panic. Freddy didn't remember much after that, just a lot of screaming and him and Bonnie rushing to pull Foxy backstage.
"The rest, as some say, is history," Freddy finished. "They kept Foxy locked in the closed down Pirate Cove for a few days. During nights, I would visit, questioning him about it. No, question is too kind of a word. Interrogate is more appropriate. Apparently, he doesn't remember the event, and our mechanic confirmed he had crashed immediately after the bite. Even now he denies having partaken in such violence."
"So he's still dangerous," Mike stated, crossing his arms.
"Only if he's overwhelmed again, and most certainly not against children," Freddy argued.
"So… He won't kill anyone?" Mike asked.
"If he can help it." Freddy replied, annoyed.
"Mike, how much power is left?" Bonnie suddenly asked, "We don't want the fridges to thaw."
"Oh crap!" Mike exclaimed and pulled out his tablet. "30%, and dropping fast, it's the door and the light." A heavy pause hung in the air.
"You're going to have to open this door, Michael, if we don't want the food ruined," Freddy explained.
"But, then you guys can get in…" Mike began.
"So?" asked Chica, again narrowing her eyes.
"So… You'll… You know," Mike said, eyes closed hard.
"Mike, you're going to have to trust us, and open the door, or we'll run out of power!" Bonnie exclaimed.
Mike stayed silent, his face twisted in fear and anxiety. Then suddenly, he looked up, swallowed,
"Promise me," he said shakily.
"Pardon?" asked Freddy
"Promise me you won't hurt me." Mike repeated.
"Mike, please, we don't have time-," Freddy started.
"No, promise me you're not gonna stuff me in a suit.
Freddy looked at Bonnie and Chica, who all nodded.
"Nothing's going to happen to you, Michael. Open the door," Freddy promised.
Mike closed his eyes and pressed the release button. The door raised up and he tensed, ready for the inevitable. He felt himself get dragged forward into… a hug. He opened his eyes and saw that Bonnie was hugging him, and she let him go, glancing down embarrassed. Standing in front of the three robots, he sighed in relief.
"Do you believe us now?" asked Freddy.
"Yes. Let's go find Foxy." Mike replied, and grabbed his hat marked "SECURITY," a pair of two-way radios, again remnants of when the restaurant had daytime security, and a flashlight. He exited through the entrance, found his keys lying on the ground, before noticing the others hadn't followed him outside.
"What are you guys waiting for? If we're gonna find Foxy before you shut down at six, we need to get moving!"
"Michael, we're not allowed outside," Freddy said flatly.
"Hey, I'm the night guard here, I got authority. So by the power bested in, well, me, I hereby grant you permission to get the hell out here!" Mike ordered.
"Well, someone got over themselves quick," quipped Chica, stepping outside.
"We're going to need to split up. Bonnie, come with me. Freddy, take Chica and this radio, we'll use it to communicate. I'm trusting you guys big on this one, you cannot be seen. Last thing we need is a panic to start over rogue robots. And Bonnie, you'll have to help me keep a look out. You guys got that glowy-eyed crap that helps you see, right? Well, I don't, so watch my back, okay?"
Bonnie nodded, and Mike continued, turning to Freddy.
"I'll make sure Bonnie doesn't get spotted, but I need you two to be extra cautious. You won't have a human to keep people calm. Now, where do you think he went?" Mike said.
"Erm, well, Foxy's a pirate, so a ship?" suggested Bonnie.
"No, no, this town's land-locked. There isn't even a lake. Think harder." Mike said.
"A bar? Pirates like to drink, right?" asked Chica.
"Well, yes, but he's a kid's animatronic, so he probably doesn't think that way. Wait a minute. All the kids are locals, right? Would he go into the neighborhoods?" Mike questioned, turning to Freddy.
"It's possible." Freddy agreed.
"Then we'll head that way. Keep in contact, okay? It's the button on the side, and don't crush it, and don't hold down the button if you want to listen. Alright, take this watch, at 5:30 you three head back, with Foxy or not. Better to have just him out there then all of you. Now, let's move!" Mike ordered, and the four proceeded down the road.
Foxy was loving this whole outside, thing. After his run-in with the car and the "fool's gold," he once again was distracted by another completely new discovery: houses. Foxy had never seen a house before, but before he was disabled during the day many a little matey had shown him drawings of them. As such, Foxy was surprised to find they weren't large square boxes, but spread out across the ground, with corners and extensions jutting out. He was also fascinated by what was inside the houses as well. There were very few lights on inside them, but Foxy didn't really need them anyway.
Peering through window after window, Foxy saw a whole manner of new things. Displays like Mike's tablet, although much bigger, dominated some of the walls in the rooms he looked in. He also saw what he considered to be tiny ovens, refrigerators, and tables, none of the high-capacity stuff like back in the pizzeria. After being mesmerized by one of the displays that was left on for several minutes, a bizarre sound tore his gaze away. It sounded like a dog, but Foxy knew better. Everyone knew dogs went "Woof!" His many crews taught him. Not this irritating, high pitched arf! noise. But Foxy was Captain, after all, and figuring out what made that constant, grating noise was starting to sound like an adventure!
By following the sound, Foxy was led to a small wooden gate. Glancing on the other side revealed a latch, which he opened after making sure his eye patch was in place. What kind of pirate would he be if he went on an adventure with his eye patch up? Stepping through the gate revealed the source of the noise. A small, four-legged creature stared at him, before whining and backing into a little house.
Confused, Foxy slowly and awkwardly lowered himself to his hands and knees, and poked his snout through the opening. A tiny growling sound was heard, followed by a snap of teeth
"Ow! Blazes, ya got some kind of bite there, beastie." Foxy yelped, pulling his head back and rubbing his nose in surprise rather than pain. Unbeknownst to Foxy, who sat glaring at the little cretin with his arms folded across his chest, his shout had gotten the attention of one of the house's residents, as a light flicked on in an upstairs room.
"If ye weren't such a little half-wit of a monster, I'd give ye a piece of me mind," Foxy told the dog, which suddenly turned to look at the house. Foxy followed the dog's gaze, and saw a small figure standing in the doorway of the house, staring.
Well blow me down! Foxy thought, A little matey! Smiling from where he sat, he raised his hook in greeting, "Ahoy there, little buccaneer! What be your name?" he called out, before scrambling to push his lower jaw back into place.
The boy, Foxy could now see, remained silent, staring wide-eyed at this large red fox, who wore an eye patch, and talked like a pirate.
"Me name's Foxy," Foxy continued, excited at the sight of a new crew member, "Cap'n Foxy, to ye, but if you'd like, you can call me Cap'n."
"What are you?" the boy said.
"I'm a pirate, lad!" Foxy replied matter of fact, "Now, what be yer name?
"C-Caleb…" the boy replied.
"Pleased ta meet ya, Caleb! Say, it be a wee bit dark out, why aren't you cozied up in yer room?" Foxy asked, remembering that his little pirates needed their sleep.
"You woke me up," the boy replied, sitting down on a step, "And now I'm not tired."
"Not tired, eh? Tell ya what, why don't we go back to yer room, and I'll tell ya a story, how's that?" Foxy, asked, his grin getting bigger at the thought of telling one more story.
"…Okay," Caleb said, "But we'll have to be quiet. Mom and Dad are sleeping." The boy touched his finger to his lips to illustrate his warning.
Foxy copied his actions, and said in a low voice, "O'course, ye won't hear me make a sound!" And with that, Foxy stood and followed the boy into his house, stooping underneath the doorway, trying to be as quiet as he could, silently cursing his clunking feet.
A/N: Noticed something different, returning readers? For one, it's pretty ballin' you guys came back to this chapter. (By the way, new readers, you're great too). So, I completely changed the 'Bite of '87' backstory to hopefully make more sense than the old one, as well as provide a more FNAF feel and explain Foxy's actions later on. So, for those who are curious about what the old one was… It was weird. Like really weird. With kissing. Yup. This is my first rodeo, cowboys and gals, so I'm still trying to figure out what works and what doesn't, so my next one won't have to change so much. Later on, I 'spose.