Well, it's already the fourth night in my fanfic, and I want to thank everyone whom have been following the story so far. I'm aware that a few of you have ideas of where things will go from here, or some unexplained holes that I left, but I assure they will be resolved. All will be revealed in time—it is five weeks at the nightclub, and we're not even finished with the first week! Now, as for this shift, it took a few months to complete. Not only did a lot of things happen while I was in Missouri during this time, but I wanted to capture the real suspense of the game as much as I could, while maintaining the flow that I imagined. I hope you enjoy the thrill of this night—so let us proceed!
Michael walked toward the club entrance with mixed feelings.
After his escapade last night, he decided to arrive at the nightclub just before closing. With his encounters during those times, he assumed he had been unintentionally egging them on somehow: first he complimented Chica, and then conversed with Frenni in-person. He hoped that, by appearing at this time, it would lessen his chances of a meeting with the animatronic girls before his shift. Whether or not this would happen, he was going to find out with this attempt. However, he didn't come entirely on such a slim whim.
As tense as last night was, he learned something which gave him hope. By unintentionally ordering them to stay in the recharge pods for the remainder of the night, he managed to accomplish his additional chore without interruption. Remembering what Mr. Afton had said in addition, Michael came up with an idea. If he simply ordered all the girls to stay in the pods for the entirety of his shifts, they would have to obey him; then, he could do as he pleased in the club without worrying about being ambushed. It was so simple, that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it from the beginning. Even so, there was concern; as they demonstrated before, the girls were able to adapt and come up with plans, so it was possible for them to create a loophole around his order. Luckily, he considered a failsafe plan before he arrived this time.
Unluckily, though, Michael hadn't considered a plan for getting through an unusually dense crowd in the clubroom. Which meant, his hope of not meeting one of the girls was ruined upon seeing the reason for the large crowd.
It was Bonni this time, and she had the stage to herself.
Groaning, he looked around and settled for an open spot by the bar. It was far enough from the main stage, and he was even less likely to be spotted among the crowd anyway. Taking his iced water bottle from his pack, he took a seat by the bar, facing the counter and away from the stage. To his dismay, there was a long mirror that hung between the shelves of bottles, which happened to face the stage. With some sips of the cold water, he tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, hoping the stage's occupant would overlook his presence.
Tonight was not to be his night, either.
"Hey boys! This little hop is for one of you out there—good luck guessing who it is!" She winked as the crowd went wild.
Her declaration caused Michael to look up at her reflection on the long mirror. Bonni slowly turned around, showing off her back and backside, and caressed her body from her legs upwards along her outline. What happened next was so sudden. One moment she was turned away from her audience; and then her skirt and tank top flew in the air. The sight beholden to all was the violet-skinned bunny-lady clad in an exotic bikini outfit. But the clincher was both pieces of clothing were made of minimal fabric in a way that they barely covered the most-desired areas of her body. After doing a little spin to show off her new look, she grasped the dancing pole beside her and began her performance.
Michael had managed to pinch his nose just in time. A few others around him weren't so fortunate; while many in the crowd hooted and called their praises, some guys either let their nosebleeds untreated, or simply fainted from delightful erotic shock. It was to be expected, though—what guy wouldn't have that reaction upon witnessing a literal bunny-eared, hourglass-figured woman display herself so boldly like that?
As she skillfully moved and twisted around her pole, Michael noticed that her show was a bit different from her previous routines. Her movements were like a mix of gymnastics and belly dancing, and the music possessed a pumping rhythm. Furthermore, each time the tune reached a crescendo, Bonni would let her breasts and butt cheeks shake and bounce in the right way. The more she allowed her now-scantily-clad body to flex with the music, the more convinced he was that this show was meant to exhibit her athleticism and eroticism.
It's more showing off than a devotion, he mulled suspiciously. And she says this is for someone here—and I have a feeling who that is.
When Bonni had been dancing for about five minutes, the sensuous melody began to ease, indicating the show was about to end. But Bonni wasn't done just yet; right when the song ended, she did a twirl around her pole with one arm, and used her other arm to fling her tiny top off. As a result, everyone got a brief glimpse of her exposed breasts, pinkish nipples and all.
Michael spat his water out; he hadn't expected her to do that. As a consequence, he was unable to hold his drink anymore, so a profuse amount of iced water sprinkled the bar counter. Holding a napkin up to his mouth and nose, he looked up in time for the lights to finally go out, and then come back on, revealing a suddenly-empty stage. Yet, he swore that just before the stage lights went dark, Bonni was holding her mouth cutely in a half-smirk—while staring in his direction.
While the crowd begged with all their might for more, Michael tried to clear his remaining coughing fit with a sip from his bottle—only to find its contents stained with tendrils of red, along with his napkin.
Oh, come on!
After stuffing his nose with torn bits of his napkin, he started his shift by moving the club's large congregation outside. Because of its density tonight, this took longer than usual, and Michael had his work cut out for him to escort or even carry some drunkards out into the cooling open air. Also, the number of guys now made hailing for a cab more difficult, as the vehicles would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Somehow, Michael managed to pull it off in record time, and was helping one of the last customers into a buddy's vehicle.
"Say, I've seen you here lately," he said, pointing to Michael's badge. "You work here?"
"Yes, I do," Michael said.
"Lucky you," the man huffed. "Tell me, then: you have any idea if Foxxy's coming back?"
Foxxy. Startled by her name coming up, Michael wasn't sure how to answer. In truth, he hadn't really seen her at all in the past few nights; nor did he know if Mr. Afton had any plans for her return. He did ask him, but was told she was temporarily out of service. Then again, the image of an unknown silhouette that saw him leave last night popped up, as did his observation of the girls' increased activity.
"She might, real soon," he replied, uncertain. And I hope she doesn't.
"Hello? Hey! This is day four... you're one lucky SOB to make it this far."
Ominously, a series of loud banging could be heard within the call. From the guy's voice, Michael could imagine him sweating in fear.
"Listen... I-I-I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow. It-It's been a bad night here. For me. I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you... ahem! —when I did. Hey, do me a favor: m-maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside the couches in the VIP rooms? Uh, upstairs? Uh, I'm gonna try to leave a little something… in case something happens. It'll certainly help the girls get better. Odds are… I-I won't be around for it. …Maybe it won't be so bad. I-I-I can't help imagining what could be…"
Just then, a latch is heard behind the voice, like the door was finally opened.
"Wha—"
And the recording ended like that.
…
That doesn't bode well for me.
The assurance he thought of before coming tonight had been dashed just from hearing the new recorded message. Based on what he heard, things had gotten serious for his predecessor that night; and because the message left him hanging, a bunch of wild thoughts ran amok in Michael's head. If the guard survived, then he was either found by someone friendly, or managed to escape the girls' grasp. Since there was no report about it—at least, as far as Michael knew—this was possible. On the other hand, if the guard became another casualty and yet no public report was made, it was also possible it got passed off and swept under the rug. That was essentially how the 'Break of 87th Street' ended up. However, if that was indeed the case, it left the hanging question of which girl managed to reach the guard. Either way, Michael had no interest in being buried like that, neither in legal paper nor in six feet of soil. But one thing did catch his interest.
What did the guy mean by "help the girls get better"?
A pair of taps on tempered glass interrupted his self-deliberation. It was only 12:21am, so the appearance of any of the girls was much earlier than before. Indeed, to his alarm, he saw Frenni Fazclaire standing right at the eastern hallway window, staring at him with interest. Half-pressed against the glass, her nipples could be seen through her white shirt.
"Hey handsome, would you like a special dance from me tonight?" Frenni tempted. Emphasizing her offer, she let out another breath of air on the glass, leaving a spot of fog, and used her fingers to draw a heart within it. "We can finish where I left off last night…"
That reminder was all he needed to assert himself again. "Sorry, but I'll have to decline."
"You sure about that?" Frenni pressed. "You looked so excited before…"
"If you're referring to your little stunt during my shift," Michael retorted, "then I was more scared witless than excited."
"And what about Bonni's dance tonight? She says you had an adorable response…"
"I was caught off-guard—so, no thanks. But, if you and your friends return to your pods—and stay in them—until 6am tonight, then I might find our meetings a bit more agreeable."
As if realizing he would be unmoved, Frenni slumped her shoulders. "Suit yourself. But just to warn you…" She then pointed in a certain direction in the lit hallway, towards a poster of a red-skinned girl with a ponytail and pirate cosplay. "…one of us won't take that for an answer."
As Frenni left down the hallway, Michael peered through the window to get a closer look at the poster. From its advertisement, it portrayed his first image of the missing girl named Foxxy—an adventurous member of the animatronic team who enjoyed telling sea-faring tales of the erotic nature, and cosplayed while doing so. Her posture and facial expression on paper gave off a bold glow that most men would lust for, but dare not approach. Thinking back when he was asked about her return, Michael began to understand why some guys wanted her back.
Personally, he wished he wouldn't have to find out how "adventurous" Foxxy was compared to the other girls.
Michael groaned in disgust as he dropped a blood-stained napkin into the trash bag he was holding.
Apparently, Bonni's performance had a two-fold affect in the nightclub. One of which involved the hormonally-charged males that were here: not only did their numbers increase, but so did their rowdiness. In their excitement, they left a considerable mark in the clubroom—plates, cups, napkins, and other cutlery were strewn everywhere on the tables and floor. It wasn't that unexpected, as Mr. Afton had predicted this when leaving tonight's job list:
1. Trash-pick the floor and tables (expect it to be extensive—Bonni's taking stage)
2. Gather trash bags for chute disposal
3. Gather and return plates to kitchen for washing
4. No sex in the nightclub
As such, Michael was left with the second affect, to clean up after the crowd's uproar. As his latex-gloved hands did another swipe of such leftovers into his bag, he observed the areas he did and had yet to do. This was taking the better part of an hour already, even while gathering the dishes at the same time as the garbage-gathering. As much as he wanted to do a thorough job here, he also wanted to get back to the safety of the security room. Even after confirming the animatronic androids' presence in their room before coming out here, he couldn't help himself from scanning his surroundings every time he moved from one table to the next. With the girls gone, it was deathly quiet to the point that he could hear anything. This only made his apprehension worse; granted, the girls' bold presences were just as unnerving, but at least they made their presence known with their impish voices.
In a way, the silence made Michael regret making them leave, as he now felt more alone than ever.
A slight clatter resounded in the club, and Michael whirled toward its direction in panic. It was a false alarm—one of the plastic cups had fallen out of a filled trash bag. As he watched it roll around the floor, he tried to steady his breath. Being jumpscared by the girls was bad enough, but now that he was alone, his body jumped at the slightest sound. His only comfort was that the cup could do no harm to him like one of the girls could.
Settling on the preference of the lesser evil, he returned to his work, albeit vigilantly. Once he finished, he took the tied bags to the back hallway. On the other end, away from the back door he uses, was an in-wall chute meant for disposing garbage to outside, where a large city bin was placed. After sending off his "delivery", Michael returned to the clubroom and carried the columns of soiled plates to the kitchen window for the washing conveyor. This is done without incident, and as he fulfills his desire to return to his original post, he disposes his gloves in an empty trash can…
…unaware that something had been watching his every move from within the mini-stage marked Pirates Cove.
Michael yawned in boredom as he leaned back in his chair.
Several hours had passed since he finished his errands on Mr. Afton's list, and he was finding it more difficult to keep his attention. The labor in getting the clubroom cleaned up had taken its toll, so he was already feeling tired when he sat in the security room. Since then, nothing had happened in the club, and none of the girls had appeared. This left yet another regret for sending them away into their pods, as Michael now sat not only without company, but also with nothing to do. His only reprieve from total boredom was looking into something in the security room, in preparation for his aforementioned "failsafe" plan for future nights, but that lasted for only twenty minutes. Now, after a prolonged period of simply staring at the monitors, he was well into the effects of pulling all-nighters.
Another long yawn escaped him, and he slapped his cheeks to wake himself. Gazing lazily at the overhead clock reading 5am, he had one more hour before calling his shift. Then he would have the pleasure of going home for a well-deserved nap.
It was at that moment he heard it.
A quick metallic patter from the left hallway, like really quick running. And its increasing volume meant it was headed right for him. Jolted awake and without thinking, he slammed his fist on the button for the left doorway, and looked up in time to see the door slide down. Almost immediately after, a reddish blur passed by the adjacent window. A resounding thud came from the door, followed by the thump of something falling to the floor.
When he realized what may have happened on the other side, Michael couldn't help but snicker a bit. The scene was as unexpected as it was comical. Still, as amusing as it was, he had to keep his guard up; he checked behind himself toward the other, open doorway to make sure there wasn't an ambush in wait at that moment. Confirming it was all clear, he rechecked the closed door. Strangely, there was not a peep now. Maybe whoever was trying to reach him went unconscious? Even if it was one of the animatronics, the impact of running into the door would have—
SCREE-EEE!
Jumping and wincing at once, he sees the source from the left window. A huge sickle-shaped hook was dragging along the glass surface by the tip, making that horrible sound. Following that was a low growl of frustration as a yellow eye emerged from below the window frame, narrowed in his direction. An unfamiliar voice echoed in the occupied hallway.
"You got lucky, kid," it said in heavy breaths, "but yer toys won't save you forever. I'll catch you soon enough, an' we'll see how long you last against my little toys!" The hook was slammed against the glass to add emphasis to the threat, but luckily the window remained unscathed. Making sure he got the message, the figure retreated from sight, leaving him alone once again.
Michael made sure a full minute passed before checking the cameras, and sure enough, there was nothing. Working off a hunch, though, he tilted one of them situated in the main clubroom to point toward the Pirates Cove. Called it—the curtains were moving slightly like someone just passed through them.
That was definitely Foxxy just now, he concluded. As he reopened the door, the youth realized something unnerving. Mr. Afton had said she was out of service, yet she was clearly operational enough to be waltzing around the nightclub with the other girls. And then some—she was much faster than them! And yet on the other hand, if Foxxy was this active, why remove her from performances? Just as importantly, why didn't she follow her compatriots when Michael ordered them all to go to their pods tonight? Something was very wrong here; whether his boss was hiding part of the truth or there was a clue unaccounted for, he didn't know. But there was one thing Michael did know.
She's more violent than the others—she could've really hurt me if she wanted. In fact, that may have been the case if he hadn't been paying attention at that moment at this late hour. Although, the animatronic girls were meant to recognize and not harm a staff member of the nightclub; and as one of them, Foxxy would be no exception. Yet the way she threatened him indicated she was not that phased.
At least this encounter was enough to send his drowsiness flying.
Michael breathed in deeply as he braced for a mad dash.
Since his first encounter with Foxxy almost an hour ago, she had made two more attempts to catch him. Though both ended the same way as the first, she remained persistent. She even went as far as staying at the doors for periods of time, trying unsuccessfully to punch her way through the metal doors. This forced Michael to keep the doors shut every time, and their prolonged use substantially drained their charge from the initial 75% capacity. It was now a few minutes until 6am, and he took no chances while the pirate woman was on the loose. Thrice-checking the cameras, doors, and hallway lights one last time, he saw no movement. With the all-clear, he also saw their charge was down to a pitiful 3%. No matter—he wasn't going to stay here a minute longer.
Once the clock ticked at 5:59am, Michael made his move. Upon signing off, he released all of the safety measures, he ran out of the eastern hallway like a bat out of hell. He careening himself across the club's main stage and into the back hallway—all while keeping his eye in the mini-stage—until reaching the locker room door and shut it tight. After grabbing his pack, he stood by the door, hanging on for the last excruciating seconds.
Finally, his phone pinged the time of 6am. Safe at last. Opening the door and validating his thought, he stepped to the back door to leave. With a hand on the horizontal handle, he pushed to open it—but it wouldn't. His fear returning, he tried the appliance again, to no avail.
Come on! Why won't it unlock now?
As he kept jostling the door handle, a familiar metallic sound emanated from behind him. Whirling around, he perceived a feminine silhouette on the other end of the hallway. Even though her outline was unfamiliar to him, the yellow eye and right-handled hook was enough.
"Where're you goin', skipper? Are you not man enough to handle me?" Foxxy coaxed amusingly. Her right hand toyed with the hook handle, letting it swing on her fingers. "Or, do ya want to be handled?"
Michael's back hit the door, and eyes were focused on the hook in her hand. Judging from how she was toying with it, she wasn't afraid of using it on him. Just then, an audible chnk from the door became his saving grace, and he grasped the handle one last time.
"I'm man enough when to say 'no'!" he declared before swinging the door open.
Hearing her growl in frustration as she began to run at him, Michael wasted no time to get himself outside and slam the backway door shut double-handedly. Both palms of his hands held the door in place as he gasped—then the door reverberated from the other side, hard. Jerking back, he stood there in the open until he realized what had happened inside.
Foxxy ran into the door, again.
Stepping back on trembling legs while still facing the door, he leaned on his parked truck. Only one thread of thought coursed his mind as he caught his breath. That wasn't fair—it was 6am already. I was in the clear—she wasn't supposed to keep attacking me! He looked down at his shaking hand, which gripped a piece of paper with written information about what he searched for in the security room.
I'll definitely need that "failsafe" plan for tomorrow night.
So, that was the fourth night—which means the final night will be a doozy! …Or will it? Be sure to stay in touch in order to find out, as the fifth night will be longer than these past nights. In the meantime, I'll appreciate your comments and reviews. See you then!