A/N Hey guys! Man, this is really overdue! And I do apologize! But I do hope you enjoy, and looking forward to the next Chapter, which hopefully won't take as long!
-Scriptorem stilis
Chapter Five
Arrival
He strode on throughout the night, until the first grey light of dawn touched the horizon. Though the suit was heavy, he found that he was still able to move at a fair pace.
As the sun began to peep over the horizon, it smarted sharply in his eyes. He raised his hand to block the light. From his body, a foul smelling reek began to emit, followed by searing pain. Ducking out of the light in the shade of a gnarled pine, he found immediate relieve, although he was just beginning to burn in places.
"What the fuck?! Am I not able to go in daylight?!" He asked aloud, not caring if anyone heard him.
To test his theory, he stuck his left hand out into the light. It seemed to not do anything for the first few seconds, but began to hurt and smoke after a few seconds. Crying out in his near silenced way, he drew his hand back.
'Damn. I can only travel by night, seemingly,'
With that, he sat down and drew branches with needles on them around him, to shade him when the sun turned westward. Leaning his back against the bole of the tree, he slipped into dark dreams of murder and revenge, waiting for the cool night to return.
Jeremy watched the two foxes resting with their backs against the tree from the kitchen window. He smiled, for it was a rather cute site, other than the fact that they were still in pretty rough shape. Sighing, he went to the fridge and took out a chilled glass, in it he placed a two ice cubes from the freezer and poured some Brandy into it.
Downing the liquor in one swig, he placed the glass back in the freezer and made his way back down to his workshop in the basement.
"Do the best you can. That's all we want from you, Mr. Fitzgerald," The ladies voice played through his head. Her name had been Hannah Murphy. Or was it Murry?
Shaking his head, he picked up a hammer and began to straighten a crooked rod. After that, he went over to the left side of the table and picked up an odd looking contraption. He stuck the rod in one end of it. He picked up a screw and a drill and secured the rod in place.
Drawing a larger piece of metal, he attached the contraption to the large piece near a ball joint.
'I'll have to rebuild the foot next. Make sure it has a socket that'll fit the ball,' Jeremy thought to himself.
He continued on with his work, unaware of what the time was, and quite frankly, not caring.
He didn't have any sort of job like this for years.
"Do ye 'member when we first met?" Mary asked, looking up at Foxy.
"Aye. Tis hard not to forget, lass," Foxy replied.
"I had to kick ye to make ye talk. I asked if ye had been watching me,"
"That I do remember. Ye have a good kick, for a vixen," Foxy nudged her gently in the side.
"And ye had been, ye scurvy peeking Tom!" Mary snapped.
"But ye were an eyeful. Aye, I haven't seen a sight like ye in a while,"
Mary blushed at Foxy's compliment. Leaning down, he placed a quick kiss on her lips. Her blush deepened as she returned the kiss.
They sat there like that for some time. When they broke the kiss, Mary placed her hands in Foxy's. The boughs sang them a gentle song in its strange tongue, and the two foxes felt at peace, for a short time, at least.
As soon as he stepped out of the airport, he was smacked in the face by the heat. Even though the sun had set a few hours ago, the heat of it still beat off the rocks and sand of the land in Utah.
He hailed a taxi and placed his luggage in the trunk when a yellow cab pulled up. Mike sat down in the back seat of that taxi, and silently praised god for the invention of air conditioning.
"Where you headed to bud?" The driver asked.
"To a house on the outskirts of town, close to where the old Fazbear Restaurant had been." Mike replied.
"You mean Jeremy's place?"
"Yes," Mike replied.
Without a further word, the driver drove off into the night, with Mike staring out the window as the dark world passed by.
"I know it is not my place to ask, but you're accent is a bit funny. How would a foreigner know about Freddy's?"
"I used to live here in Utah. As for Freddy's, I worked there before it burnt down. When it burned down in '87, moved up to Canada. I went with him, because he essentially became a second father to him,"
"What was there in Canada, Igloos and Polar bears, maple syrup drinking hockey players and lumberjacks?"
Mike looked at the drivers reflection in the mirror.
"Are you being serious?"
"I have never been out of Utah. How would I know what Canada is like?"
"Well, maybe you should go on the internet and look. We only get snow in the winter, and polar bears don't live in Nova Scotia, except for in zoos,"
The driver smiled, and said, "You learn something new every day,"
For the last duration of the ride, the driver and Mike kept their silence.
At last, they pulled up in a gravel driveway next to a grey, two storied house.
"Here's your stop, Mr. Canuck,"
"Thank you, sir. And here is your pay, with a generous tip to maybe let you get to Canada someday,"
Mike said as he handed the driver fifty big ones.
"Wow mister, you are really generous! Have a good night!"
He got out of the car and grabbed his luggage from the trunk and walked up the steps of the deck to the front door. Setting his bags down, he lifted the knocker on the door.
Mike waited for a few moments before he heard heavy thuds coming from inside. The door opened and there stood a red fox, whose fur was matted and ripped in places.
"Foxy! What have I told you about opening the door?! People are not supposed to see you!" a man with red hair scolded the fox.
The man then noticed Mike standing at the door.
"Oh, hello sir. How may I help you?" The man asked, a bit gruffly.
He looked at the bags that Mike had and said, "Whatever you're selling, I am not interested,"
"Mr. Fitzgerald? Are you Jeremy Fitzgerald?" Mike inquired.
"I am. And whom may you be that is asking?" Jeremy fired back.
"Michael Schmidt. I was told that the animatronics had been found, and that you had them,"
"Told by who?" Jeremy asked, suspicion in his eyes.
"Mike? Be it ye laddie?" Foxy spoke up.
Mike smiled and nodded his head. Before he knew was happening, he was lifted off the ground and held in the strong embrace of the red fox.
"We be worried that ye perished in that inferno! T'last we saw of ye was the Golden bunny man and ye fighting, before the wall o' fire covered the entrance to the cove, so we couldn't see out,"
"I am sorry things went as they did Foxy. If I could have, I would have saved you all. But now I am just saying things that are impossible,"
Jeremy gave him an odd look.
"You worked at Fazbear's Pizza, before the accident?"
"Which accident do you mean, the one with poor Foxy here, or when the Restaurant went up in a ball of fire?"
"The only one everyone around here remembers. Fazbears burning to the ground,"
Foxy let Mike down, and went back into the house, whistling a happy tune.
"I'm sorry, Michael. How rude of me! You are still standing at my door! Please come in! We would be more comfortable sitting at the table to discuss these things!"
Jeremy helped Mike take his things into the house and sat them in the hall. They then went to the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"Can I get you anything to drink Michael, water, a soda, perhaps something a bit stronger?"
"A glass of water would do me fine, at the moment. And please, call me Mike, if it is the same to you," Mike politely said.
After Jeremy gave Mike a glass of water, they began to talk about many things. Their time at Fazbears Pizza, the animatronics, their former boss, Mr. Fazbear, and most of all, what was to be done with the band of singing, walking, talking robots that were in the basement.