Michael stared down at the phone, dreading what his boss might say. He had only dropped Henry off an hour or so ago, and now he found himself back in his apartment, needing to take care of some business. The fact of the matter was that the night had been a bust, and that in turn meant they would need to go back. This led both of them to the obvious conclusion that Michael was going to need to take some time off if he was going to spend the next few nights steaking out a warehouse full of deadly animatronics. If he was being honest, then asking for the one night off had been nerve-wracking enough, but to now ask for more out of the blue, it was pushing his luck.

He turned around to see Gregory lying in front of the tv, watching something or other. If his boss got angry and fired him, then he would have no feasible means to take care of the boy. Still, there were things he needed to get done. He turned back to the phone, picking it up and dialing. Before long, he was on the phone with his boss.

"Alright, who is this, wadda ya want?"

"Um, sir, it's me, Michael."

"Michael? Oh, of course. Look, it's good that you happened to have called. I wanted to talk to you about something. If you're free, I'd like you to come down to the restaurant."

A sudden wave of panic began to take hold of Mike. What on earth could his boss want him to come down to the restaurant for? Especially during the day. It was such a seldom requested thing. He tried to remember the other times he had been there during the day time. There was the time he was hired… the time those movers took the old animatronics away. Off the top of his head, he could not think of any others… and that worried him. Was it possible he was being fired? If so, he couldn't think what for. The sudden request for a night off didn't seem like that big of an offense, especially considering everything he had done for the business. Maybe it had something to do with the new animatronics? He had done his best to take care of them, which was well above his pay grade, but maybe there was some clause in the contract he had unwittingly broken?

"May I ask why, sir?"

"Oh, it's nothing you need to get all worked up about. I was just wondering if you could stop by today."

"But sir, if I may be blunt, won't people um… well, that is to say, won't they be a bit disturbed by my… uh… appearance?"

"Don't worry about that," the manager scoffed, "look, just stop by when you can, ok?"

"Alright sir, I'll um… I'll be there in an hour or so."

He hung up, not really sure what to make of the situation. It had to be bad. The way Michael's life was, bad was a near guarantee.

He stood up, throwing on his uniform. He changed in the bathroom, which was certainly a new experience for him, not used to having other people in the apartment to worry about. When he stepped out, Gregory glanced up.

"Going out?" the boy asked.

"I wasn't expecting to, but yes. I'll call you if I don't think I'll be back by lunch. There are some cold cuts in the fridge if you get desperate."

"No exactly the lap of luxury."

"Hey, compared to what your life used to be like, it kind of is," Michael said.

"You're right, you're right," the boy conceded, "I'm sorry."

Michael paused in front of the door, glancing back to Gregory, "Did… did you just apologize."

Gregory stiffened, "I donno… maybe."

"Sounded like an apology to me… unprompted too."

"Whatever," the boy said dismissively, "just leave and let me watch my show already."

"If you insist," Michael ruffled Gregory's hair, heading back to the door, proud of how much the boy had improved in such a short span of time, "by the way, don't go near the drug dealer's kids while I'm gone. I think you're a bad influence on them."

"It's not my fault they're such babies."

Michael rolled his eyes, locking the door. Giving it a second thought, it was possible the boy had not developed as much as he had thought previously.

The ride to Freddy's felt shorter than usual. Maybe it just had something to do with how much Michael was dreading whatever was about to come, or maybe it was just the fact that he was so lost in his own thoughts, but it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. The parking lot was only partially full, he assumed most of the cars to be those of the employees. Trying to be as discrete as possible, he parked off to the side. Getting out, he immediately headed towards the back entrance. He had hoped there would be no one there, but much to his chagrin, what appeared to be two women who, based on their attire, worked in the kitchens, were out by the back smoking. There was no avoiding it at this point. Whether he liked it or not, he would need to go in, which meant people would probably see him. It would probably be bad for business, but that was no skin off his bones. If the boss wanted him there, then this was what he was going to do. He stepped forward, walking as calmly as he could. Before long, the kitchen workers spotted him, jaws dropping, the cigarette's hanging from their lips.

"Don't mind me," Michael said as casually as he could, "the boss just called me in. I usually work the night shift."

The two women looked to each other, then back at him. Whether it was out of pure disbelief, or horror, he was unsure. Michael vaguely remembered the daytime staff had circulated rumors about him, turning him into some sort of ghost-story. If that was true, and these two were able to connect the dots, then there was certainly the potential for chaos to ensue.

After a moment to possess, the two stepped aside, their expressions unchanged. Michael nodded to the both of them, then proceeded to step through the door. It led directly into the kitchen, which was far more bustling than he was used to seeing it. Then again, any room which had more than himself and the animatronics could be considered bustling with what he was used to. The restaurant had such a different aura during the day. If the kitchen was anything to go by, then there was almost an excited energy to the place, one of panic too.

Michael had little time to ponder any of this, however, as his primary mission was to make it to the manager's office in as subtle a manner as possible. This proved rather difficult, as one of the employees of the kitchen spotted him, immediately going slack jawed as the two others had before. This in turn lead to another employee doing the same, and then another, and another, until the whole kitchen was staring at him in utter shock. The one exception was a guy in the back, who threw up into the nearest sink.

"Don't mind me," said Michael, "I'm, uh, just heading to the manager's office." He scooted past everyone the best he could, the stares following him as he crossed the room. "Just uh… get on with what you were doing."

He left the kitchen, sticking to the back halls of the building as much as he could; no need to go scaring the customers after all. Still, it didn't stop any of the employees he passed from recoiling in shock. He was relieved by the time he made it to the manager's office. He gave a quick knock to the door, before walking in without waiting for a reply. He shut the door behind him, happy that there was now something in between him and the curious employees. Still, that didn't take away from the feeling of their prying eyes, even if he was out of sight for the time being.

The manager's office was a rather stuffy place, with only enough room for a desk and some filing cabinets. The manager himself glanced up from his paperwork, a look of consternation about him. His face softened upon seeing Michael, however.

"Oh, it's you," he said, gesturing to the small seat in front of his desk.

Michael, not sure what else to do, gave a simple nod and sat down, "You wanted to see me sir?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, I suppose I did," he seemed half distracted, shuffling through the papers which littered his desk. He then stood up, walked over to the door, glanced out, then closed it and sat back at his desk. "Alright Schmidt, I'm going to be as frank with you as possible. As you may recall, I have recently announced my plans to move on from this establishment, meaning I need to find a new manager."

"Yes sir, I remember, but what does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that. Now where was I? Oh, right! So, last night, when you gave me that call, it dawned on me that I couldn't just pick anyone to take over. I was already having a hard time deciding, what with so little options to pick from. After all, whoever I choose would have to be hard working, dedicated, as well as just an overall competent employee. That's when it hit me: you should be the next manager of the restaurant!"

For a moment, Michael was unsure what to say. He was almost worried that he had misheard his boss, and that he would need him to clarify. Was he really getting such a sudden promotion? It was all so fast, so out of nowhere. Quite frankly, with everything that had been going on lately, his job had been one of the last things on his mind, yet here he was, rising up in the ranks without even realizing it.

"Um, sir, are you really saying what I think you're saying?"

"How could I make it any clearer? I want you to take over as manager," the boss said with a smile.

"With all due respect sir, why me?"

"Why you?" he let out a laugh, "Why not? You and I both know you're the hardest working, most dedicated employee here! It only makes sense!"

Even after the confirmation, Michael still could not believe what he was hearing. Was this really happening? Was he really being made the manager of a Freddy Fazbear restaurant? A part of him didn't feel like he deserved it. A manager, that was the sort of person who had authority, who people paid attention to and respected. That wasn't something he deserved. Michael was certain that the universe had designed him to do things like clean out toilets and sweep up after people and… well, nearly die each night by animatronics. The idea that he could have a job that was so executive, for lack of a better word, was surprising. Then again, there was no need to overstate things. He would be in charge of a children's pizza parlor, not the Tavern on the Green.

"Michael? Michael, you still with me?"

Michael looked back to his boss, having zoned out in thought without even realizing it, "Y-yes sir, sorry. Just uh… thinking the decision over."

"I understand, I understand," the manager nodded, "It's a big decision, and there's no need to rush into things. In the meantime, however, if you wouldn't mind signing this," he pulled out a paper which looked to be a contract out from one of his cabinets.

Michael eyed it suspiciously, "And… what is this, exactly?"

"Oh, just a standard contract renewal. If you're not going to go with the manager position, then I'm assuming you at least want to keep your current job."

"Ah, o-of course!"

The manager handed him a pen. Michael quickly scribbled down his name without so much as reading any of the fine print. Once done, the manager took one look at the paper, smiled, and filed it inside his desk.

"Congratulations my boy, you are now the proud manager of this Freddy's establishment."

"What?!" Michael stood up, mostly out of sheer shock.

"Never sign something without reading the print," he pressed the button on his desk attached to the restaurant intercom, "Attention all employees: it has been a pleasure working with you, but my time here is up. Picking my replacement was no easy decision, but I have now appointed Michael Schmidt as the new manager. You might be familiar with him; he was previously our night guard. If you have anything you need addressed, then you can talk to him." The ex-manager stood up, about to leave the office. Michael immediately jumped in his way, blocking the door.

"Sir, wait! You can't just leave me like this, I'm totally unprepared for the job! I don't know the first thing about running a restaurant!"

In truth, Michael was partly lying. He did know a few sparse tidbits about what it was like to look after a Freddy's. After all, he had been there when his father and Uncle Henry were in charge of the first Freddy's, but it wasn't as if he was privy to any of their meetings on… taxes, or whatever the hell it was they talked about when it came to keeping the place afloat.

"You'll do fine!" his ex-boss said, patting him on the shoulder, "Now if you excuse me, I have a flight to Mexico I need to catch!" Before Michael could say anything else, the little man ducked under his arm, making a b-line for the door. Michael chased him the best he could in the cramped little office, but soon he found himself in the middle of the hall.

What felt like the entire staff had gathered outside, no doubt to ask just as many questions, if not more, than Michael had about all this being so sudden. There was a great eruption of noise as soon as the ex-manager popped out, immediately followed by a deafening silence upon seeing Michael. In that moment, it seemed as if everyone froze. Michael stood, fixed in the doorway. The crowd of employees were transfixed, motionless, some with their jaws hung open. Even the ex-manager, who seemed so eager to leave just a moment ago had stopped. Eventually, it was also he, who decided to break the silence.

"Welp, I'm off. Talk to Mr. Schmidt here, he's really the one in charge," with that, he scampered off, weaving between two employees. Just as he vanished out of sight, the eruption of noise began just as quickly as it had stopped, all of them aimed at Michael. To say it was overwhelming was an understatement. Michael was used to being all on his own in the dark, not having to interact or be observed. This was a whole different beast entirely.

"Just who the hell are you anyway?" one of the employees asked loudly.

"Yeah, how come you get the job instead of any of us?"

"Why have I never seen you around before?"

"Are you really the night guard?"

"Are the rumors of the haunted animatronics real?"

"Can I get a raise?"

"What's with your skin?"

"ENOUGH!"

The crowd was immediately silent once more. Each looked at Michael with shock, fear, and if he was lucky, just the slightest hint of respect. He had no idea how he had even managed to muster up so much power in his voice, but he had gotten their attention at the very least.

"Look, I'm just as thrown off by all of this as the rest of you," Michael said, both calm and firm, "I know most of you are probably shocked by how sudden all of this is, but believe me when I say I'm right there with you. For the record, yes, I am the night guard. As you can see, I'm not exactly the most attractive guy around, which was why I got a job with as little interaction with people as possible. For better or worse, that's just changed."

"But how come you got picked over the rest of us?" one of the employees complained.

"Yeah, that doesn't seem fair!"

"Quiet!" Michael ordered, and the crowd settled once more, "Now listen to me. The reason I was picked, at least the reason I was told, was because of the sheer dedication my position requires. I'm not going to go treating any of you like idiots, I know that each and every one of you has heard the rumors about this place and the old animatronics which used to be here… and what tended to happen at night. At the very least, you know that before I came around, we used to go through night guards pretty fast."

There was an amicable murmur from the crowd. Perhaps it was out of fear, or some shred of understanding, Michael could not tell. Whatever was happening in the minds of the employees, it was clear that they were forming their real opinions of him for the first time. For so long, he had been just another part of a ghost story, yet here he was, standing right before them, as real as they were. That terrified some, for certain, while it gained a begrudging respect from others. At the moment, Michael didn't care much which, as long as it got people to do their jobs.

"This is going to be an adjustment for all of us, but for the time being we have a restaurant to run. Go back to your positions, and once things have settled, I'll be happy to answer questions."

Slowly, the crowd began to break apart, each person heading back to where they were supposed to be. Now that things had calmed down, Michael could see that the group had not been nearly as big as he had thought in the heat of the moment. It was a sizable amount of people, enough to run the restaurant, but if that had been anywhere close to the full staff, then it was honestly a bit smaller than he had expected for a place of their size post renovation. Regardless, there was no reason to go thinking about that now. Michael slipped into the room which was now his office, closing the door behind him, and sat down behind the desk. It was a mess of papers, all of which were completely meaningless to him. He could feel himself overcome with a horrible sinking sensation, the type he had always felt at the beginning of a new night. With any luck, being manager of a Freddy's joint would be easier than being the night guard.

A/N: Hello everyone, I have an announcement regarding chapter updates.

First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone reading. This fic has gotten more views than I ever could have imagined, and that really means a lot to me. I want to make it clear that I have no intention of abandoning or discontinuing this story, however, I will take this time to announce that this story is going to be on hiatus. I don't know how long this will be. A lot of stuff is changing in my life right now, and I just don't have as much time to write fanfiction as I used to. I realize this announcement will be very disappointing to many of you, but I figured that being frank would be better than puttering out unceremoniously.

Thank you again for reading, and hopefully I'll see you next chapter.