Charlie sighed impatiently, watching the other technician struggle to open the elevator.
"This happens sometimes," he said, his voice strained as he shoved the crowbar between the metal doors. "Everything here breaks way too easily."
"Yeah." The second shook his head and gave a sarcastic laugh. "And that's why we've got this job. To fix up all their crappy machinery."
Charlie didn't respond, tapping her foot on the floor. She wanted to get to work already; her worry over Michael practically drove her up the wall. Finally, however, the doors jerked open. With a sigh of relief, the first technician—the older of the two, whose name was Bert—entered the elevator, quickly followed by the second, Terrance. Charlie also entered, and the descent began.
"Yo, dude." Terrance sent Bert an odd look. "Why're you still holding that crowbar?"
"Huh?" Bert looked down at the object. "Shoot. Didn't mean to do that."
Charlie eyed the crowbar, silently contemplating the dangers that possibly awaited her. On an impulse, she said, "I can take it off your hands."
Bert paused. "Well. Okay, I guess." He shrugged and handed it over. She grasped it tightly and went back to standing in silence, attempting to ignore the other two's conversation, as well as Hand-Unit's usual annoying instructions. To her relief, it mostly seemed to be focused on the other two technicians this time, calling them by the amusing names Carrot and Meat Loaf. She restrained herself from laughing at them, but she ultimately tried to focus on her goal: finding Michael. Besides, she didn't talk with the other technicians often, had only ever spoken to one of them in passing. It made her feel rather awkward, but her worry outweighed that.
When the elevator stopped and the cheery music played, she promptly headed out, the crowbar gripped firmly in her hand. While Bert and Terrance headed off in another direction, she ducked beneath the caution type and crawled through the vent. The clanging of the crowbar as it banged against the metal filled the eerie silence. She tried to shuffle along quickly, but the clunky object kept her from picking up her pace too much. When she finally emerged, Hand-Unit's voice greeted her. "Let's check on Ballora and see what she's up to."
Charlie let out a breath, setting the crowbar aside. She knew she had to find a way to look for Michael eventually, but for now, she figured she could play along with Hand-Unit's requests. She pressed the button and lit up the stage. Nothing was there. She waited a moment for the next command. It didn't come; she heard nothing...well, for a while, anyway. Shortly, Hand-Unit's voice returned, only this time it was warped and glitchy, with an almost demonic layer to it.
"We want out," it said. "We want out...out...out...out..." That last word repeated, sending a chill through Charlie's body. She instinctively reached for the crowbar where it rested against the wall, her eyes darting around the room. As her gaze swept over the left window, a screech rang out and Ballora slammed against it, her purple eyes flashing off and on. With a yelp, Charlie shrank back. Ballora remained against the window, her faceplates closing as she pounded her fist against the glass. Once...twice...three times. Cracks spread around it, splitting and growing. Charlie fumbled for the crowbar as her breaths picked up. On the fourth punch, Ballora's hand broke through, her fingers un-fisting and reaching for Charlie. Gasping for breath, she swung the crowbar. It bashed right into Ballora's hand, making her draw it back in and move away from the glass. The animatronic vanished back into the darkness.
Charlie firmly planted herself to the floor, trembling and keeping her makeshift weapon pointed at the window. A few eerie, staticky noises came from the shadowy room, followed by glitched, haunting singing. Ballora's song. Shuddering, Charlie forced her gaze away. She hoped Hand-Unit returned and told her to check on Funtime Foxy, or even just instructions for her to get out of there. All she heard was Ballora's eerie melody echoing from the room to her left.
"If the animatronics are this violent now," she said, "then what could've happened to Mike?" Swallowing thickly, she reached for her radio, the one that connected her to Bert and Terrance. Technicians didn't often carry them, but after Michael's disappearance last night, it was a requirement. "This is Cheerios, can you pick up?" she spoke into it.
"Who the heck is Cheerios?" Terrance's voice crackled over the line.
"Me, Charlie." She rolled her eyes. "The other technician."
"Oh right." He sounded vaguely displeased. "What is it? We're sorta busy right now, tryin' to fix up Funtime Freddy a bit."
"I just wanted to know if you guys found out what Michael's duties were last night," she said. "That could help us find him, you know."
"Uh...I dunno," said Terrance. "Just the usual, I think. Checking up on the animatronics." He paused. "Oh, but he did remove Funtime Freddy's control module for us. We had trouble the other day. I must say that guy knows what he's doing when it comes to animatronics."
"So he fixed Funtime Freddy?" Charlie tilted her head.
"Yeah, that's what I just said."
"What would that require?"
"Just normal fixing, I guess. I bet he had to pass through Funtime Auditorium, though."
"Funtime Auditorium..." Charlie repeated, her eyes trailing to its window. "Was that all he did?"
"Jeez, lady, I don't know," Terrance said. "Now can we get back to work please?"
"Yes, sorry," she said. "I was just wondering, so I could—" An ear-piercing scream rang behind her; she nearly dropped her radio when what felt like claws grazed the back of her neck. With a startled cry, she spun around to the window behind her. Ballora half hung through it, the hole in the glass now larger. Giving distorted noises, she reached out to Charlie, her colored nails dangerously close to touching her again. There was something about those sounds, though. It sounded like Ballora was in pain.
Charlie backed away, crowbar at the ready.
"Hey, uh...what was that?" Terrance's voice came over the radio.
"Ballora," she said, struggling to steady her panicked breathing. "She's acting way more aggressive than usual. And glitchier, too."
"Ah shoot." He groaned in annoyance. "I was afraid of this. Bert, we might have to fix her after all."
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, keeping her eyes on Ballora as the animatronic slunk back into the shadows.
"She was malfunctioning during showtime today," he said. "We thought it could just be a minor, quick error, but if she's acting weird now, then we should definitely check it out."
"Is that your job, or my job?" She lowered her weapon.
"Ours." Bert's voice came, replacing Terrance's. "We'll be down there in just a minute. Would you mind deactivating Ballora while we head over?"
"What?" She tensed. "How am I supposed to do that?"
"Hand-Unit will instruct you," said Bert. "We'll be there soon."
"Wait!" She lifted the radio closer to her mouth. "She's really aggressive right now, I don't know if I should do it on my own." Neither Bert nor Terrance replied. Letting out a shuddering breath, she hooked the radio to her belt, then stationed herself in front of the vent. She clutched the crowbar tightly, awaiting Hand-Unit's instructions.
"I apologize for the brief malfunction." His voice arrived, as she expected. "It seems you will now be required to enter the Ballora Gallery and deactivate Ballora, using the switch in her—" his voice spazzed out, glitching over the next word— "Be sure to be as careful and precise as possible, so you do not accidentally break her or cause her to malfunction in any way. It should be a fairly simple task. Once you are finished, our other technicians will take over."
"Alright." She released a breath. "Just finish this task, then search for Mike. You got this." Ducking down into the vent, she eased her way through and to Ballora Gallery. As soon as she entered, she straightened, tensing and clutching her crowbar. She half expected Ballora to immediately attack, but she did not. In fact, in the midst of the shadows, Charlie saw no signs of the animatronic. Frowning, she released her weapon with one hand and retrieved her flashlight. She clicked it on and advanced forward. The thin beam of light roved around her while she walked, step after step, taking her closer to the frenzied animatronic...or so she thought.
Too focused on the door before her and the space around her, Charlie did not notice the mechanical silhouette creeping up from behind. Blissfully unaware, she continued on, stiff and at the ready. Behind, faceplates twitching and nails scratching the floor, Ballora snuck up. Her metal hands and feet hardly made a sound. Having not noticed, Charlie didn't get a moment to react. With a startling shriek, Ballora dove and rammed against her back, throwing her to the floor. Charlie hit it hard, the flashlight flying from her hand and rolling into the shadows. She barely had a moment to recover before Ballora was upon her. The animatronic seized her by the shoulder and turned her over.
Charlie cried out, struggling against the animatronic's grip on one of her arms. Ballora kept her pinned in place. Singing her sweet, eerie tune, she grabbed Charlie's neck with her other hand. She gagged, pushing at Ballora's arm as the metal around her neck grasped tighter. An aching pressure entered her throat and head, followed by a sudden surge of panic. She continued to shove and kick, but the animatronic would not be moved, its grip on Charlie tight and firm, keeping her on the floor and barely able to fight back. She couldn't get out a word, could barely think as her mind began to fog over. The hand gripped tighter; Charlie let out a strangled sound of pain, struggling harder. In the midst of her desperation, she glanced towards Ballora's torso. A part of her outer shell lifted up for just a moment, revealing a glowing, purple button. An off switch?
Ballora giggled when Charlie started to still, her choked-up sounds of distress diminishing. But she wasn't done fighting. The next time Ballora shifted her position, that same part of her shell lifted up. Using the little strength she had left, Charlie gave a swift kick, hitting the button directly. The moment she did, the pressure on her throat released. Ballora went limp, her joints clicking and grinding as she twitched away and collapsed to the floor.
Gasping for breath and coughing hard, Charlie rolled onto her stomach. She put a hand against her neck while she recovered some of her vision and consciousness. Her throat ached and felt rough; she continued to choke, unable to stop herself. Through her gagging and gasping, she glanced towards Ballora who was supposedly deactivated. One eye peeked open, gazing at her with its glowing, purple depths.
"No..." Ballora's voice glitched, growing softer as she spoke. Her head twitched and her eye slowly slid back shut. "I-I...I...want...out...out...out..." She repeated the final word several times, just as Hand-Unit had, then went completely silent.
Charlie stared at her for a few moments as she recovered herself. Shuddering, she retrieved the crowbar, then her flashlight. Keeping them close, she awaited the other technicians, her arms crossed over her chest as she cleared her throat several times. It still throbbed quite painfully.
It felt like ages before the two men came. "Ah," said Bert, eying Ballora. "Did you have trouble with her?"
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." She shot him a glare. "Next time you should hurry up. You're lucky you didn't find my dead body."
"Sorry." He sighed heavily. "Tonight's a long night."
"It is." Charlie glanced down. "I'm assuming you two are carrying the job out from here?"
"Yep," Terrance said. "Looks like we gotta carry her all the way to the scooping room. Fantastic." She didn't comment on this, watching them lift up Ballora.
"Hey," she said, "how much exactly did they search for Michael?"
"The other technician?" said Bert. "I don't know. They mostly searched with the security cameras. The cams can usually pick up a person's face easily."
"Cameras?" Charlie's head lifted more. "Where can I find these cameras?"
"If you're thinkin' of looking, I doubt it'll work." Terrance's voice was strained as he helped Bert heft up Ballora. "But we could also use someone keeping an eye on things, so knock yourself out."
"I can give you directions," Bert said.
"That would be great." She nodded. He told her the way, then after briefly thanking him, Charlie headed out. It took her a while to get there, after passing through the elevator room and exploring some short corridors. She managed to soon enough and promptly set to work watching the cams. She didn't know much about the controls, so she merely let the cameras do their own work. There proved to be way more rooms than she thought there had been in the location, and many flickering screens to keep track of. She even found a map off to the side, a rather mysterious one. When looking closer, she spotted several areas she did not recognize, including an odd hall off to the side, with miniature rooms attached to it, each one with a white square. She thought it odd, but didn't focus on it long, her attention captured by the many screens of the security cams.
She sat there for quite a while, drumming her fingers on the desk and fighting back all anxiety. It didn't work, and she found herself fidgeting with worry more and more as time passed. She tried to keep hopeful and to shoo away any thoughts of Michael's possible demise, but they lingered. Perhaps Michael hadn't made it out alive, maybe last night he had met his end.
"No." She gritted her teeth, her throat tightening as her eyes burned with tears. "He's alive. I...I just have to look closer. I can find him, I-I—" She lowered her head and covered part of her face as a sob escaped her. She didn't even speak, did not express the sorrow and grief she felt building in her chest, at her very core. Just as her tears began to fall, a beeping sound started up, an alert that the cameras had detected a person in an area they were not supposed to be. Charlie's gaze snapped up and to the camera where the notification flashed. The room it depicted looked incredibly dark, but as she turned on night vision, there she saw an impossible amount of Minireenas crawling on and around a suit hidden in shadow. Narrowing her eyes, she peered closer. Within that suit, she spotted something, or rather, someone.
"Mike!" She slammed her hands against the screen. Her heartrate grew considerably faster, increased by sudden urgency. "Don't worry, I'm coming!" Snatching up her crowbar and flashlight, she charged out of the room and back down the corridors she'd taken to it. Tears no longer flowed; no sobs came. Her jaw set, she didn't stop running till she reached the scooping room. Now she didn't feel grief, nor hopelessness. All she felt was rage, the need to save and protect Mike driving her forward as she charged at the wretched Minireenas. "Get away from him!" She swung her crowbar, bashing one off the right side of the suit. Another climbed up the left. She hit it off as well.
It was as if the floodgates had opened, Minireenas bursting out of the suit. Some tried to escape, while others moved to attack her. She didn't let them, swinging repeatedly and with more strength than she'd ever felt before. One by one the Minireenas fell, the splintering of their wood echoing through the room. Exhaustion and fear forgotten, Charlie kept attacking. Finally, it seemed they had all gone, each one either pieces scattered across the floor, or twitching, morphed shapes hunched in different areas of the room.
Her breaths gusting in and out of her, Charlie released the crowbar, then hit a button on the side of the suit. It opened and Michael fell out. She caught him, lowering herself to the floor and holding him close. Gulping and trembling, she felt the worry catching up to her once again. He looked completely exhausted, shaking more than she was and visibly struggling for breath. His eyes fluttered open and shifted up to her.
"Charlie?" He smiled weakly.
"Mike," she said, her voice choking up. "You're alive, I...I thought you...I thought you died! What the heck are you doing here?" He gave a relieved, wheezy laugh, attempting to sit up. "No, don't strain yourself." She gently pressed her free hand against his chest, easing him back down. Keeping her other arm firmly around him, she looked him over. It only took a glance to notice the blood staining his left shoulder. "You're hurt..."
"Y-yeah, Funtime Foxy caught me." He rolled his eyes. "Hurt my head and shoulder, and well—" he lifted a quivery hand, revealing blistered and bloodied fingertips— "the springlocks did a number on my fingers, apparently."
She pressed her lips together, swallowing and breathing deeply as she fought back the overwhelming sensation that she was about to cry. "You idiot." Her voice was soft, trembly. "I told you not to come. You have a broken ankle, and...and just look what happened! I warned you it was a bad idea! You said you wouldn't! But what did you do? You came!" She grabbed his hand and clasped it tightly, glaring as tears ran down her cheeks. "Do you know how idiotic and careless that is? If it weren't for me, you would be dead right now! I get that this is more than some simple job to you, but Mike, there are people who care about you! People who love you! People like me! How could you do this?"
Michael blinked a few times. With a heavy sigh, he sat up. She didn't stop him this time, drawing away as she shifted her teary eyes to the side. "I-I thought I'd lost you," she said. "You see how serious this is, right? I...I'm not exactly mad at you. Okay, maybe I am, but it's because you almost died, and I can't bear losing you, Michael." She didn't meet his gaze while she spoke. "You're my best friend. You might not care if you get hurt or nearly killed, but I do. I just wish that you had listened to me."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, brushing his thumb over her hand that held his. "It was stupid of me, from the start I knew."
"Let me guess, you're going to try and excuse yourself now?" Some displeasure crept into her voice.
"No," he said, vaguely surprising her with his response. "I know it was stupid. I just wanted to find the truth so badly that I didn't think clearly, didn't think of how it might affect you or others who...care about me. Not that there are many." Charlie's heart hurt for him at those words, but she didn't say anything as he went on, "It's no excuse, and I'm sorry. Plus, that night was pretty sucky, anyway. I regret it for that reason too, just because...um...ouch." He gave a forced laugh.
Charlie said nothing, staring at the floor.
"Hey." He took her chin and turned her face to him. "I-it's alright." He smiled, his smile still feeble. "After all, you saved me. Guess you'll always be cleaning up my stupid messes, huh?"
She chuckled softly, smiling back through her drying tears. "It's okay, Mike. I know it's hard for you, I was just so afraid I'd lost you. I guess what hurts more is you lied to me about it, you didn't just do something careless. You...lied..." She let out a breath. "But we all do drastic things. It won't affect our friendship, and right now, we have more important things to focus on." Wincing, she reached over and gently brushed her fingers over his shoulder, near the wound. "You need help."
He said nothing for a moment, watching her fingers trail from his shoulder, down his arm, and to his hand. "You're right," he said. "We should leave." He shut his eyes, lowering his head. "And then there's some things we have to talk about."
She nodded. "I figured. Did you find anything out?"
"Yes." His voice tightened. It sounded vaguely angry, yet at the same time, sad. "It's Elizabeth." He opened his eyes and met Charlie's gaze, his own full of grief. He let out a long breath, a tear falling down his cheek. "I know how she died."
Author's Note: Never mess with the people Charlie cares for. She will hit you with a crowbar.