Author's Note: Enjoy Mikey suffering!
...
Okay, that felt mean to say.
Charlie drummed her fingers on her dining room table, resting her chin on the wrist of her other hand. Fighting back a sigh, she glanced out at her balcony. Her eyes trailed across the sky outside. She'd called Michael at least five times now, and he had failed to answer each one. Obviously, he couldn't leave his house, and it was well past the time he usually slept in till. So...why hadn't he answered? She told herself she shouldn't be worried nor bother herself over it, but she fretted, anyway. It wasn't like Michael to ignore her calls.
"Hey, Charlie!" someone called from her living room, which was only a few paces away, seeing as he apartment was small. "What are you doing over there? I thought we were going to watch this flick now."
"Hm?" Charlie glanced towards the room where Jessica and Marla sat, waiting expectantly for her. "Oh, sorry." Charlie looked away. "Just thinking."
"About?" Jessica said, resting her arm on the back of the couch.
"Michael." Charlie kept her eyes glued to the table.
"Oh, of course you are." Jessica sounded rather smug.
Marla giggled a little. "Still crazy about him?"
"No!" Charlie snapped, shooting them both a glare. "I'm worried about him."
Jessica's pleased expression faded. "Ah. What's up? Something bad?"
"Maybe," Charlie said. She opened her mouth to add onto her statement, but hastily decided against it. She couldn't tell any of her other friends about their dangerous job, nor the mysteries surrounding it. "He just hasn't been himself lately, I guess," she said, "and he hurt his ankle. I'm just, you know, looking out for that dork." She gave a forced laugh.
Jessica and Marla exchanged glances, then shrugged it off and turned back to the television.
"Well if you want to call him, go ahead," Jessica said, "but make it fast. I'm here for a fun afternoon of girl movies!"
"You always pick the worst ones, though," said Marla.
"I'm offended you would even suggest such a thing." Jessica clicked on the TV. Charlie ignored them, muttering to herself over Michael not answering her calls. She knew perhaps she was simply worrying about nothing or being overly clingy, but after the other night when both their lives were put at stake, she couldn't exactly help it. And she knew Michael well. He was stubborn and often threw aside his health for other things, things he thought were more important. Charlie was so close to getting up and driving out to his house, just to check up on him and make sure he hadn't done anything foolish. He could very well have snuck off to the job, and besides, living alone and having a broken ankle would be difficult, anyway. She needed some relief from her anxiety.
Rising from the table, Charlie opened her mouth to tell Jessica and Marla what she was about to do, but the sound of her phone ringing cut her off. With a sigh, she went over, yanked the receiver off the wall, and put it to her ear. She had silently hoped it would be Michael calling her back, but it was in fact someone from Afton Robotics. They let her know that, although she had asked for a brief break, they could not allow her to do so, for they were short on a technician, seeing as the other had mysteriously disappeared while on their shift last night. This made Charlie vaguely uneasy, and she agreed to work, then almost hung up after doing so...but a thought struck her, making her move the phone back to her ear.
"I have a question," she said.
"Alright, but make it quick," said the irritated employee.
"This technician that disappeared..." Charlie narrowed her eyes. "It wouldn't happen to be Eggs Benedict, would it?"
"Yes," the employee said. "I heard you two worked a few shifts together. You'll know what to expect for tonight then, and should have no trouble taking over his duties, correct?"
Charlie did not reply, gripping the phone tighter and clenching her other fist. I knew it, she thought, her breaths picking up. He did it. I should've made sure he didn't! Now he's gone and gotten himself into trouble, hasn't he? She ran a hand through her brunette hair, mussing it up as she attempted to calm herself, but her heart would not stop pounding. Different panicked thoughts crowded her mind, the various situations and worries of what might've happened to Michael constantly repeated themselves. Had he been injured? Ran away? Trapped himself somewhere? Fainted? Been killed? All of the above?
"So, um...what...what do you mean when you say he disappeared?" Charlie asked, her voice wobbling as she spoke.
"Just what I said," the stranger replied. "He never clocked out of work. We've searched the building but haven't discovered him. It happens often."
"D-do you think he's okay?" Charlie twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "Have they looked everywhere?"
"Ma'am, I don't know." Frustration edged the man's voice. "My guess is he decided it'd be funny to spend the night at the location, and now he's hiding. If not, then he's dead. Got it? Good." He hung up.
Charlie slammed the phone back in its place and pressed her forehead against the wall, releasing a shuddering breath. She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Michael. She repeatedly denied that an animatronic had killed him, but deep down, that worry consumed all other rational thought. She wasn't even mad at him for going there, at least not now, not until she found out if he was alright...if he hadn't died, if he had lived through the night. But working alone in a life-threatening situation with a broken ankle? And then going missing? She hated to think of what probably happened, too horrified and sorrowful to accept it.
"I'll find him," she whispered, straightening and setting her jaw. "Tonight, I'll find him. He...he's not dead. I'll find him." She shut her eyes tightly, exhaling to calm herself. "I-I hope..."
The first thing Michael noticed when he first woke up was pain—pain in his head, his ankle, his shoulder; everywhere. The second was how uncomfortable and confined he was. And the third? He had no idea where he was. Startling, he lifted his head as his breaths increased. Unknown walls closed in on him, or were they walls? No. They weren't. It felt like he was in something; he could see two eye holes in front of him, and odd screws in the metal that trapped him. It felt like a tight coffin, almost as if he'd been buried alive, but of course he hadn't.
Breathing even harder, he shook his head. Strange clicking sounds came around him when he did. He clamped his eyes shut against the pain and fear. "What? Where...where am I?" He closed his eyes tighter and grinded his teeth. "What happened? Th-this has to be a dream, I...I can't—"
"Shh," Circus Baby shushed, her voice breaking through his own. "Be still and quiet. You've been sleeping for quite a while. I think they noticed that you never left the building last night. The cameras were searching for you, but they couldn't find you. I have you hidden too well." Her voice became a chilling whisper as she hissed out, "I kidnapped you." Michael seized up, a gasp catching in his throat. He was hidden? Where? Swallowing hard and reopening his eyes, he looked around. Through the darkness outside, he spotted a red, blinking light. Besides that and the metal around him, he couldn't see a thing. It looked like he was in some kind of suit. But, no, that was impossible...right?
"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you," Circus Baby said. "I'm only going to keep you for a little while. Try not to wiggle, though. You're inside something that came from my old pizzeria. I don't think it was ever used, at least not the way it was meant to be used. Too dangerous. It's just big enough for one person to fit inside...but just barely." Michael bit down on his lip harder, which already felt sore from the other night.
Ah, he thought, too tense and afraid to speak. So I am in a suit...and she told me not to wiggle. Crap! It's a springlock suit! He exhaled yet again, letting out a long, trembly breath. He couldn't seem to calm himself down, feeling enclosed, yet vulnerable—bursting with the need to leave the tight, frightening space. The pain didn't help at all, either, nor the slight grogginess that still hadn't left him from passing out.
"You're in the Scooping Room." Circus Baby's voice came yet again. "Do you know why they call it...the Scooping Room?"
"No," he said, his voice hushed and nervous. "Why?"
"It's because, dummy, this is the room where they use the scooper," she said. "I thought that would be obvious."
He couldn't help but roll his eyes, relaxing a bit. Oh, so now she's giving me attitude, huh? Fantastic.
"Isn't that a fun name for something?" she continued. "The scooper. It sounds like something you would use for ice cream or custard or sprinkles. It sounds like something you would want at your birthday party to ensure that you get a heaping portion of every good thing. I wonder, though, if you were a freshly opened pint of ice cream, how you would feel about something with that name. Thankfully, I don't think a freshly opened pint of ice cream feels anything at all." Michael blinked a couple of times, processing her words. There was something off about this, besides the obvious; Circus Baby's demeanor had been vaguely threatening, but now she seemed to be blabbering about pure nonsense. Thoroughly confused, he found his terror had lessened enough for him to speak more than a couple of words.
"What are you talking about?" he asked. "What exactly is the scooper, and why are you telling me about it? Why'd you even hide me, you creep?"
Circus Baby did not reply, saying, "Uh oh. It sounds like someone else is in the building. Shh." He instinctively shut his mouth and listened, half expecting to hear the footfalls of another animatronic, or its glitchy voice calling out to him. He heard neither.
"Okay, bring her over." A deep voice echoed through the dark, the speaker unseen to Mike. "Forward. More. More. Okay, stop. Set her down. Watch the step."
"What happened to it this time?" asked a second man. "It just seems like these things can't go a day without breakin' down." Michael's lips parted as he realized these were the other two technicians. Had they come here to find him? No, he thought, they seem to be working.
"Who knows?" the first said. "It's always the same, man. Some kinda hardware malfunction."
"Well, like, I have to be somewhere in 15 minutes, and this place gives me the creeps." The second sounded nervous. "Can we just get this over with?"
"It's all automated," the first said. "We don't have to be here for it. Just get her on the rollers and we can go." A clanking noise followed his words.
Michael swallowed down his parched throat, calling out, "Wait, don't leave yet! I'm in here!" He had waited a second too late. Just as he shouted the first word, a booming noise filled the room, drowning out his desperate plea for help. He clamped his jaw shut, his ears ringing and his head throbbing at the banging and grinding that vibrated through the place. He had no idea what was happening. That is, until, through the eyeholes before him, something slowly jolted across his line of vision. Ballora. She did not face him, staring in another direction with her eyes shut as the unseen conveyor rolled her past the suit. When she reached the view of the left eyehole, she jerked to a halt, her entire form giving a violent shake. All fell silent, and not a thing moved, except Michael's body which trembled with his panicked breaths.
"There is something very important that I've learned how to do over time." Circus Baby returned, her sudden voice startling him. "Do you know what that is?" He forced himself to shake his head. "How to pretend. Do you ever play make believe? Pretend to be one way when you are really the other? It's very important. Ballora never learns...but I do." He shuddered, his terror once again mounting while he listened to her chilling words. "They think there is something wrong on the inside. The only thing that matters is knowing...how...to...pretend."
There was only a seconds pause before a sudden alarm blared, making Michael jump and shift the suit around him. It sounded four times, then a startling noise broke through, like metal crushing metal, or something slicing into another object. Ballora's entire body jolted and twitched, her faceplates bursting open. It happened again...then again. With that final time, the animatronic slumped forward, her head twitching in Michael's direction. What he could see of her body was impossibly broken; her face stood open, a single flickering purple eye staring right at him. It felt as if she gazed into his very soul. Michael clenched his fists, wriggling around and gasping for breath. Just like that, he lost any sense of security he had gained since waking up, unable to look away from that piercing, horrifying eye. Silently scolding himself for moving so much, he stilled and tried to calm, but his breaths continued to burst in out of him, too rapid to stop.
"I'll open the faceplates for you," Circus Baby said. "That way they can find you on the cameras." The faceplates opened up, letting in a bit more air. "Now all you have to do is wait." He didn't reply, his eyes shifting around. As they did, he noticed something—small, barely visible. It and similar objects lined the faceplates around him and the other parts of the suit covering his body. Springlocks. "I'd recommend that you keep the springlocks wound up," she said. "Your breathing and your heartbeat are causing them to come loose. You don't want them to get too loose, trust me." Immediately, he began to wind them up, his movements jerky as his hands shook hard.
He could hardly wind them up, swallowing and panting through the strain. His entire body ached, and his head throbbed. Past the fear and panic he felt, he just barely brought himself to focus enough and keep the dreaded springlocks wound up. Round in circles he went, winding them around his face. His fingers began to burn, but he ignored it. His life depended on this, and he couldn't fail.
As he went to the right side and began his work, he saw something. In the shadows, a tiny figure crept up the side. Darkness shadowed its white face, and its eyeless holes stared at Michael as it inched its way up the side. He froze, his mouth falling open while he watched the Minireena climb. In a panic, he shoved his body to the right, shaking the suit violently. The Minireena slid off and vanished into the shadows. Steadying his breaths, he set back to work. The springlocks had wound down considerably from the sudden motion, but he kept them up, again going around in a circle. To his horror, on the other side of the suit, another Minireena climbed up. As it neared the top, he did the same action, and it left.
This went on for a while, winding and wiggling, winding then wiggling. He became rather comfortable with the routine, or...well, as comfortable as he could, considering he was in impending danger. But it seemed every time he thought he was even a little bit safe, another disaster struck to rattle him and send him back into a sea of panic and fear. More Minireenas arrived, one by one crawling into the suit. He watched them out of the corner of his eye, each one entering through the front of the faceplates. At first, he tried to swat them away, but when that only affected the springlocks and they came anyway, he attempted to ignore them. These Minireenas did not hurt him, all they did was loosen the springlocks even more.
Trembling and gasping, Michael tried to go faster. The tips of his fingers burned and bled; his body throbbed and begged to be free. The metal around him never seemed to release him, if anything, it grew tighter. The Minireenas didn't stop. He constantly had to wiggle, throwing off the ones that climbed up the sides, and as for the ones that scurried in through the bottom...well...they didn't stop. The numbers increased, an impossible amount flooding into the suit. He let out a strangled sound of fear at the feeling of their tiny, wooden hands clawing at his body and jiggling the suit.
"Stop," he breathlessly whispered, hurriedly fixing a springlock. A Minireena edged up the side, its daunting gaze never leaving him. He threw himself to the right and knocked it off. He then set back to work, shaking his head hard. His body tensed and trembled, uncomfortable and in pain. Soft scurrying noises echoed all around him. He could feel every single shift and touch of the Minireenas, each of their actions sending him closer to death. The springlocks began to blink red. Sweat ran down his face as he struggled to keep them up. Time dragged on; still the number of Minireenas increased, as did Michael's overwhelming terror and need to be released.
Come on, he thought desperately, his heart thundering against his ribcage. Just find me already. Find me! Please! He wound up a springlock about halfway, before hastily moving to the next. His head throbbed and his vision dimmed. Deep down, he knew he couldn't go on much longer. If the Minireenas didn't kill him, then the springlocks certainly would. Silently begging himself not to faint, he struggled on. His pace became slower...and slower...and slower. Exhaustion and pain getting the better of him, he just barely reached a nearby springlock, his muscles seizing as he tried to turn it. He scarcely could, just barely getting it to wind as a Minireena crept into the corner of his vision. Did he even have the strength left to shake it off?
He didn't get the time to try, for the Minireena was suddenly smacked off as a crowbar swung from the darkness. The sound of splitting and cracking wood filled the air as another went flying off the other side. Michael tensed, shuddered as he felt the others climb up his body and begin to leave the suit. All befell the same fate, a figure in the darkness hitting each one that passed them. The springlocks blinked faster. Michael could barely focus on what was going on around him, his head lulling forward and his eyes sliding shut.
He jolted out of near unconsciousness when the rest of the suit sprung open, and he fell out. He couldn't stop himself from the hitting the floor, too weak to do so...however, he didn't have to. He collapsed straight into someone's arms.
"W-what?" Michael mumbled, forcing his eyes open as he focused on whoever held him. A familiar face gazed back down at him, plastered with worry and concern. The feeblest of smiles crossed his lips the moment he saw her. "Charlie?"