Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

          The phone had a staring problem.

          Mike squinted at the business card in his hand, doing his best to ignore the deceptively harmless-looking yellow phone’s burning presence on the table in front of him. Much like everything else he’d done his best at lately, it wasn’t going well.

          Over in the living room, Abby was watching cartoons. She hadn’t had anything for after-school snack, something Mike had been trying to encourage since he took over as the adult of the house, but she seemed a bit less lost to the world today. That was good; the days when she was listless and barely responsive were scarier than most horror movies.

          Mike’s eyes darted to the phone hopefully. Nope. Still staring. Sighing, he picked up the handset and dialled Steve Raglan’s number.

          It rang once. “Hello?”

          Mr. Raglan was a nice guy, if kind of eccentric. But something about his dusty voice (or maybe his mild-mannered features, or his weirdly bright eyes, or… or something) made Mike uneasy. Then again, people in general had that effect too.

          “Uh, hi, Mr. Raglan,” he said haltingly, hating how he immediately stumbled over his words. “This is Mike.”

          “Mr. I Can’t Work Nights.”

          Oh. That was how he’d been remembered. Mike winced. “Right. Uh… yeah, I was just calling to see if that job you offered was, uh… was still available?”

          For a moment, he thought maybe Mr. Raglan had hung up. It was very quiet on the other end of the line. Then Mr. Raglan said, a smile audible in his voice, “Oh, it absolutely is. Why, have you had a change of heart?”

          Could you call it a change of heart if your heart still said not to do the thing but you were doing it anyway?

          Mike turned to look at Abby, still absorbed in her cartoons. She was too young to worry about keeping the electricity bill paid and putting food on the table. But he wasn’t. It was his responsibility to make sure she had the best life possible, and that meant a stable income.

          “How soon can I start?”

Chapter Text

          Mike had worked security gigs before. Most people wouldn’t guess it by looking at him, he knew. He wasn’t very intimidating, but apparently his “intense eyes” and “constant vigilance bordering on paranoia” (not his words) made him suitable for the role.

          This was the first time he’d worked a night shift, though. And it was definitely the first time it had been in an abandoned building, with absolutely no word from his new employer. He didn’t even know the guy’s name.

          Fortunately, Mr. Raglan had given him more than just an address and a key for the lock. The rest of the phone call had been pretty informative. That was nice of him.

          “Lemme give you a little backstory. This place was huge in the 80’s, with the kids. ’S been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the ole wrecking ball treatment is the owner’s a bit of a… well, he’s a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet.”

          He chuckled fondly. Mike figured he’d been a regular there or something.

          “Yeah. Had some trouble with break-ins over the years, drunks and vagrants mostly. Not ideal. Security system’s… dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras on the inside and outside, all the doors have an emergency lockdown feature… but fair warning – the electricity is a bit… iffy. Anything happens, there’s a breaker in the main office. Just flip it. Uhhh, I guess that’s about it. Y’know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake. Well, I’ll catch you on the flipside. Hopefully.”

          That was not comforting. That made it sound like he didn’t expect Mike to last very long here.

          Well, it was the best Mike could do with his record, and there had to be some kind of perk to all this. Maybe he could bring Abby for a sleepover of sorts every now and then. It’d be a nice opportunity to connect with her, and it’d give Max a break from sleeping on their shitty couch every night.

          He very nearly changed his mind when he caught his first sight of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. The infrastructure looked sound enough, but the signage was a dilapidated wreck. The only sign of working electricity beside his car’s dubious headlights were the floodlights Mr. Raglan had mentioned earlier, every visible bit of metal was rusted and worn, and there was a much newer fence wrapped tightly around the building.

          Long story short, the place was creepy.

          Inside was worse. Mike’s flashlight flickered ominously as he passed under the arching sign bidding all visitors WELCOME, its beam skittering over broken glass on the floor, faded posters decorating the walls, and finally that breaker Mr. Raglan had mentioned. When he flipped the switch, the entire building thrummed with some semblance of life as the emergency lights powered on.

          Wow, whoever had this office before him hadn’t bothered to tidy up at all, possibly ever. The desk was cluttered, an assortment of knickknacks and fast food wrappers warring with stacks of paper and a rotary phone for space. A cup with a thick layer of congealed Grape Crush at the bottom was balanced precariously against the base of the metal desk fan; Mike rescued it and set it aside, making a mental note to get the space somewhat habitable before he even thought about letting Abby visit.

          Taking a deep breath, he sat down in his new chair, turned on the monitor, and flipped through the various camera feeds. Entrance. Arcade complete with a climbing structure and a ball pit. Some kind of stage obscured by a heavy curtain. The whole place smacked of days gone by. The layout gave him nostalgia almost like he’d been here before, which was definitely not possible because he hadn’t been anywhere like this since before they moved to Utah.

          He looked around some more. There was a tape with NEW GUARD on it peeking out of the VCR. Huh. He should probably watch that. It might be a training tape or a recorded greeting from his new boss or something.

          Peppy music crackled from the speakers as a lively diner emerged from the static on screen. FREDDY’S SECURITY TRAINING, read the title card. A slightly manic-looking lady Mike’s age entered and smiled too widely at the camera. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, a magical place for kids and grownups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life,” she recited perkily. “If you’re watching this video, it means you’ve been selected as Freddy’s newest security guard.”

          Mike rubbed his tired eyes as the video continued, huffing at the “cutting-edge” technology that had apparently earned the pizzeria its appeal. The robot thing used as an example didn’t look advanced, just creepy. Especially the roaming-free bit.

          “Let’s introduce you to the stars of the show,” the lady announced, pressing a big red button labelled simply as SHOWTIME. The video immediately disappeared behind a thick, glitchy haze of static that came with a lot of loud, horribly whiny buzzing.

          For a fraction of a second, the face of a yellow bear in a top hat filled the screen, accompanied by a deep, distorted voice garbling out something that vaguely sounded like “It’s me.” When Mike blinked, it was gone.

          Weird. They must’ve reused the tape or something.

          He leaned forward and smacked the ancient tv until the static and buzzing abruptly vanished. The lady was still standing by the SHOWTIME button, but now she was laughing like a friend had just said something hilariously unexpected.

          “Adorable, aren’t they? Protecting these cuddly critters – and the proprietary technology that brings them to life – is now your sacred duty.”

          Well, the opening bit had been pretty unbelievable to begin with, but her cheerful schtick was slipping. Mike had sat through several school plays and more seasons of his mom’s favourite supernatural soap operas than he could count – he knew clumsy acting when he saw it.

          Delight, dazzle, yada yada yada. It was almost a relief when the bright, plasticky smile dissolved into more static, this time signifying the end of the tape rather than whatever malfunction had happened earlier.

          “Alright,” Mike muttered, leaning over to turn it off. “Lotta important info there. Net gain: zero.”

          Whatever. There probably wasn’t a lot left that he couldn’t fumble through on his own. And you know what? This job wasn’t looking too bad. He hadn’t been given any instructions on what to do if there was an intruder, but hey, he could figure it out. Probably.

          His jaw cracked as he yawned widely. Shit. At all his other jobs, he’d had some form of stimulation to keep the side effects of his medication more or less at bay. Now, when he was alone in a quiet room with nothing to hold his attention, he was really regretting being in too much of a hurry to pack a book or his Walkman.

          Mr. Raglan had said something about keeping the place tidy, hadn’t he?

          Mike left his seat and ambled over to examine the locker. If he was lucky, there’d be cleaning supplies in-

          EYES AND TEETH!

          He slammed the door shut with a strangled yelp. After a moment, he opened it again.

          The eyes and teeth belonged to some kind of figurine in a striped shirt and matching propeller hat, clutching the string of a toy balloon in one hand and a sign reading BALLOONS in the other. The thing could easily fit in his palm; the only reason he’d spotted it at all was because it sat at eye level on the locker’s inner shelf.

          Mike wrinkled his nose at it. Was this some kind of souvenir Freddy’s used to sell? What was the purpose of a tiny balloon boy with a creepy grin and too-detailed eyes?

          He turned it around to face the back wall as God intended.

          The balloon boy wasn’t the only thing in the locker. There weren’t any cleaning supplies, but there was a black vest with SECURITY emblazoned across the back in white. It was a little big, perfect for slipping on over his baggy hoodie.

          Now properly attired, Mike grabbed what he needed from the storage room in the back – yeesh it was dark and creepy in here, best not to delve too deep on his first night – before heading out to the dining area to survey his new domain.

          Oof. There was a lot that needed doing. Setting the cleaning supplies aside for now, he panned his flashlight around the room.

          Prize counter? Check. The shelves were still cluttered with various prizes, many of them themed after various animals. Mike’s eyes landed briefly on a fox mask before a sudden spike of discomfort compelled him to look away.

          Service window with a large menu board hanging above it? Check. Apparently Freddy’s used to sell beer. Not so family-friendly after all, it seemed.

          There was the sign for the restrooms, there were the booths – separated by stained glass partitions decorated with colourful animals, classy – and there were the tables he’d seen in the video. Party hats still littered their surfaces, and several of the chairs were pushed out at random, as if the place had been shut down while people were still there.

          Oh, that was both heartwarming and creepy. Mike stopped to look over the many drawings pinned to the wall, reminded once again of Abby. Her drawings would blow these ones clean out of the water. The one in the middle was a close second, though. The five humans it depicted were stick figures, but the anthropomorphic yellow rabbit holding hands with them was pretty well drawn, for a little kid anyway.

          Moving on.

          Kinda cool that the pizzeria had a stage. Probably for whatever mascots the video had tried and failed to introduce him to, maybe a guest band or some other kind of performer… wait, why were there two-

          Something clanged, far too close for comfort.

          Mike swung the flashlight around, but there was nobody there. “Hello?”

          No answer. It had sounded like someone tripping over something metallic and came from behind the curtain covering the main stage. Was someone hiding back there?

          Great. His first night on the job and he was already seeing some action. Hopefully whoever it was didn’t have anger issues or anything that could be used as a weapon.

          A few slow, cautious strides took him up to the stage. Holding his breath, he climbed the stairs and tugged the curtain aside.

          The eyes and teeth that met him this time were decisively larger than Balloon Boy’s. A purplish rabbit loomed over him, red eyes squinted but vacant and pointing straight ahead into the curtain. It wore a red bow tie and held what looked like a real electric guitar in its paws.

          Still barely breathing, Mike aimed the light past it. There were two other animals on the stage, some kind of pink-eyed chicken or duck with a bib and a Spongebob-looking cupcake on a platter, and…

          His ears started ringing. For a moment, the bear was not brown but a warm yellow haphazardly patterned with blots of deep red.

          “You must be Freddy,” Mike mumbled, shaking the weird hallucination from his head.

          The bear remained frozen, its blue eyes staring straight ahead pleasantly. Now that he was paying attention, these definitely weren’t mascot costumes. Their joints were clearly mechanical, as were their necks and probably everything else beneath the fuzzy exterior. Were these like the creepy robot from the training tape?

          Huh. Robots that performed for kids. Kind of cool, if not deeply weird.

          “Must get boring, staring at the same thing all the time.” On an impulse, Mike dragged the curtain open, securing it in place with a chair. Then he went over to the second, smaller stage to see if there was anything there as well.

          The robot he found was in worse shape than the others. It was a fox themed like a… pirate? Maybe?… with yellow eyes and a big, toothy grin, and its fuzzy cover was so mangled that both its robot legs were bare from the knee down. Its hook looked wickedly sharp and not at all kid-friendly.

          Mike opened the curtains for it too, then fetched his cleaning supplies and got to work.

          This was probably stupid and unnecessary. Tidy and clean were two different things, and nobody would ever see or appreciate his work.

          Well, that was just fine, actually. He’d see and appreciate having a clean workspace, and this way he didn’t fall asleep on the job and get fired before his second shift. And honestly? He liked the idea of accomplishing something for once.

          “Sorry guys, looks like you’re stuck with me for the next few hours.” The power flickered a little, almost as if in answer, but when Mike looked up, every active light was glowing steadily.

          Old building. Completely normal and not creepy at all. Right.

          Shockingly, time did not fly by. Maybe it was because he wasn’t having fun. “Shoulda brought my Walkman,” he grumbled, sweeping the last of the broken glass into the dustpan and dumping it into the nearest garbage can. “Would be nice for you guys to hear some music again, huh? Or do you like having a break from all the noise?”

          … maybe he should stop teasing Abby about talking to air.

          “My sister would love you. She doesn’t like talking to other kids much, but animals are her favourite thing in the world, next to drawing. I bet if she were here, she’d be whipping up super realistic portraits of all of you to add to the wall.”

          He kept rambling as he got started on mopping the floor, kneeling to scrub at the more stubborn messes with a rag. It was kind of nice to be able to talk without worrying about anyone hearing him. Neither he nor Abby had been particularly chatty even before their parents left the picture, but now that there was precious little else to entertain himself with, he found he had no interest in shutting up. The robots made decent company.

          God, what did they put in that pizza sauce? There was a reddish-brown stain on the floor that just wasn’t coming out. Maybe the owner could afford to keep this place because he’d sold the recipe to a paint company for a hefty sum.

          “Did they even clean before locking the doors to the public?” Mike wondered as he scrubbed harder. A thought occurred to him and he straightened to eye the robots critically. “Oh, you guys must be disgusting by now. Tell you what, I’ll finish the floor and then I’ll give each of you the spa treatment to end all spa treatments. There’s no way no kid’s managed to get their greasy little fingers on you.”

          Was he just imagining it, or were the robots all looking at him now?

          “Actually, new plan,” he decided, looking around the pizzeria. “Tonight I focus on the building. Tomorrow, I bring my Walkman so we can get our groove on while I clean you up. Really give you the full package, y’know?”

          Seriously. He was talking to robots like they were people. Once he got his first paycheque, he was spending some of it on a visit to whatever therapist came cheapest.

          Finally, the stain gave way. Mike got to his feet with a grunt, wincing as his knees cracked nastily. “Ugh, I’m too young for Rice Krispy bones. Shouldn’t you be fifty before everything starts going snap-crackle-pop?”

          Somewhere in the distance, a child giggled.

          “What the-” Mike nearly dropped the rag in his shock and fumbled to keep it from splattering dirty foam all over the freshly scrubbed floor. How’d a kid get in here?

          Hastily discarding the rag, he grabbed his flashlight from its perch on the table and hurried back to the office, not bothering to sit down before scanning the monitor intently. “Gotta find the kid, gotta find the kid…”

          Nothing. And no open doors, no new marks in the dust, nothing out of place… either this kid was a ninja or he’d just had an auditory hallucination. Weird timing, though. Maybe he just missed Abby enough to imagine her laughing at his stupid joke?

          Or maybe the lateness was getting to him already. He checked his watch; he’d been cleaning for three hours. And that had just been the floor of the dining area. If he really poured on the gas, he could probably finish it and do a thorough sweeping everywhere else before his shift ended.

          Clean floors, lock up, go home and sleep. Not an exciting schedule, but he was actually looking forward to it. Tomorrow he’d bring a thermos of coffee and maybe a sandwich.

          Maybe working at Freddy’s wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

          “I was scared, I was scared,” Mike sang, setting the bucket of warm soapy water on the fox’s stage and dipping the sponge in. “Tired and under-prepared, but I’ll wait for it. If you go, if you go, leave me down here on my own… then I’ll wait for you, yeah…”

          The pizzeria was just as quiet and abandoned as it had been the night before, though the lights had flickered more vigorously when he’d walked in. He’d checked the monitor thoroughly before pulling out the cleaning supplies, and he’d made a point of doing it again every half hour or so. He was the night guard, after all. But he’d also promised to give the robots a bath.

          Now, with music playing through his shitty headphones and a thermos of coffee on hand for whenever fatigue inevitably set in, he was halfway through making good on that promise.

          Okay. Fox time. “You guys have names?” Mike wondered, getting started on sponging a couple decades’ worth of dust and grime off the robot’s exposed feet and legs. “Or should I just make some up? I mean, you’re on the sign outside so you’re probably Freddy Fazbear,” he said to the bear. “Are you all Fazbears? Is this supposed to be a family-type thing, or is it more like Franklin?”

          That would make their names Rabbit, Fox, and… Chicken? Duck?

          Wow, there was a lot of dirt on this guy. There had been plenty on the others too – the rabbit was now a much nicer purple-blue and the chicken-duck-thing was sunshine-yellow – but at least they had seen some maintenance to keep them otherwise in order. Even the cupcake looked better than the fox did, and it had been nearly impossible to see the pink icing beneath all the stains.

          As Mike moved upward, carefully wringing out as much water as possible before applying the sponge to the fox’s cover and the mechanical parts visible through the holes, the water turned black and the mottled felt-like surface turned a cheerful orange. When he got to the teeth – which were some kind of plastic or maybe that weird Vitrelle stuff they made dishes out of – he had to scrape crusty brown gunk off them in order to reveal that several of them were yellow rather than white.

          “Seen a lot of ferocious battles, huh?” The teeth were pretty sharp. It honestly wouldn’t be too surprising if someone had stuck their hand in the fox’s mouth and gotten nicked. Same with that hook, which had rust flakes on it and was in fact not dull enough to be safe around kids. It caught on Mike’s sleeve as he turned to rinse the sponge, tearing the fabric and gouging painfully into his skin.

          “Shit,” Mike hissed, jerking away and grabbing his forearm to stem the blood already welling up. He bumped into the fox’s torso, then nearly jumped out of his skin when its jaw dropped a little on impact. “Yeesh, that can’t be hinged properly. Uh… stay right there, I’m gonna get this wrapped so I’m not bleeding everywhere, and then I’m gonna get to your face, okay?”

          The fox didn’t answer, obviously, but its one visible eyelid had an apologetic sort of droop to it. Mike patted its shoulder distractedly and carefully lowered himself off the stage.

          There should be a first-aid kit in the office, right? Or if worst came to worst, he could probably find some twenty-year-old napkins to tape onto his arm until the cut scabbed over.

          Actually, getting the napkins first was probably a better idea than letting his arm drip on everything while he searched that rat’s nest for something that might not even be there. There weren’t any napkin holders in the dining area for some reason, but there should be plenty in the kitchen, or at least a paper towel dispenser.

          “Holler if you need anything,” he told the robots, grabbing his flashlight and heading for the kitchen.

          Okay, he should definitely get better acquainted with the place now that he was a little less dead on his feet. Being able to get from the office to the dining area wasn’t exactly rocket science, but he’d need to know how to get around quickly and effectively on the off chance someone actually got in.

          Something clattered softly from somewhere around the corner.

          Mike stopped walking. Was he hearing things, or had someone seriously broken into the pizzeria right when he was thinking about someone breaking in?

          Maybe he needed to lay off the coffee.

          Flicking on the flashlight, he turned the corner slowly. The hall was empty, all doors closed and no footprints visible on the floor. Then again, he’d swept yesterday.

          Drunks and vagrants, Mr. Raglan had said. Probably not violent or armed or anything, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to go in guns blazing in case the intruder reacted violently. (Assuming there was one.) He could be polite and calm about this. He had this.

          There weren’t any more noises as he continued moving quietly down the hall toward the kitchen. That was where he’d go if he broke into a building to spend the night. First get some water, scrounge around for something to eat, and then try to find a good place to sleep.

          That or to the bathroom. It was an either/or scenario.

          He didn’t even know if someone was there or if he was just being paranoid again.

          Mike pushed the door open and peeked inside. It seemed pretty quiet at first, but as he listened, he made out the faint sound of a hushed voice mumbling to itself, followed by the creak of an oven door shutting gently.

          What- why would someone go for the ovens?

          Curious now, he entered, keeping the light trained on the ground as he approached. Just as he rounded the counter, the intruder climbed to their feet with a disappointed groan muffled by the flashlight in their mouth.

          Instead of the rough-looking drifter Mike had expected, he found himself staring at neatly coiffed hair and a face free of both grime and stubble in the split second before the intruder’s light caught him square in the eyes.

          Whoever this was… he definitely wasn’t a vagrant.

Chapter Text

          For approximately half a second, they were frozen in a bizarre standoff, squinting in the beams of each other’s flashlights. Mike had automatically raised his hand to shield his eyes, and his flashlight had gone with it.

          He came to his senses first. “Uh, you can’t be here-”

          With an unintelligible shriek, the intruder flung a handful of papers in his face and bolted.

          What the-

          “HEY!” Mike hollered, chasing after him. Who knew what this weirdo would do if left to run amok in here?

          God damn this guy was a sprinter! It helped that he had a head start and probably less pill-induced chronic fatigue, but he was fast.

          Maybe he should try yelling?

          “YOU’RE NOT IN TROUBLE, I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHY YOU’RE IN HERE!”

          “NO THANK YOU, SORRY,” the guy yelled back, not slowing down in the slightest. The gap was widening by the second.

          Mike growled in frustration and poured on the speed, but it was too late. The intruder bulldozed through the previously locked door and was dashing across the empty parking lot before he’d even made it past the supply closet. By the time Mike made it outside, he’d hopped onto a bike that hopefully belonged to him and was pedalling madly away.

          Yeah, there was no way he’d be catching up now.

          “Fuck.”

          Rattled and pride more than a little bruised, Mike locked the door and headed for the office to check the cameras. He’d only seen the one guy, but maybe there were others still lurking in the pizzeria.

          If there were, they were being much sneakier than their buddy had been. Nobody showed up on the cameras, and when he listened hard, he couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.

          He did get a sudden and unpleasant spike of headache pain for his efforts, though. Thanks, intruder, for blasting his eyeballs. Trying to blink it away didn’t help much; the afterimage burned into his retinas almost looked like the yellow bear he’d seen on the tapes.

          Ugh. That reminded him, though. He hadn’t finished cleaning the fox.

          “Sorry about that, guys,” he sighed, dropping his flashlight onto the nearest table and peeling off his vest as he made his way back to the fox’s stage. “Got sidetracked. That dick threw stuff at me.”

          … and okay, maybe it had been a little funny. Weird and annoying and totally unnecessary, but funny.

          He allowed himself a chuckle, then jumped when Freddy’s mouth opened and a deep, warped laugh played through the speakers.

          Was he programmed to do that in response to laughter? Kinda creepy.

          “Are you laughing at me, mister?” Mike demanded, pointing the sponge accusingly at the bear. “That’s rude. I’ll have you know that I just saved you from getting paper-bombed by a maniac that hides in pizza ovens.”

          Freddy laughed at him again. It was just as creepy the second time. But also kinda bratty, like Abby got sometimes. Mike figured he was okay with that.

          “Alright, enough outta the peanut gallery. Ready for your facial, Cap’n?”

          Wait, hadn’t the fox’s eye been half closed the last time he’d seen it? Now that bright yellow peeper was wide open.

          Actually, now Mike was curious to know if there was another eye under that patch. He wasn’t about to try lifting it just yet, though. That was probably rude.

          Out of all the robots, the fox was the easiest to clean. It wasn’t quite as tall as the others, so he didn’t need to stand on a chair to reach its face. The ears, though…

          “Mind bending down for me?” he quipped, turning to eye what little space was available on the stage. Hmm, not big enough to fit a chair on here. He could drag a table over and stack a chair on top of that, but then he’d have to lean pretty far, and-

          There was a mechanical creak and then a weight settled very quickly and unexpectedly on his head.

          Mike could not and would not be blamed for the shriek that left his mouth.

          For a second or two, he just stood there, contemplating the fact that he’d asked a deactivated robot to bend down and now said robot’s forehead was pressing into his hair because it had bent down. Was this some kind of prank? Was the owner hiding nearby with a remote control, laughing his ass off while Mike screamed like a wimp?

          “Ooookayyyy,” he said finally, which was about as eloquent as one could expect to be under such circumstances. “Thanks? I guess?”

          The fox didn’t move a second time, but something about it seemed to smile. It really wanted its ears cleaned, apparently.

          Yep. This was his life now. Okay.

          Ducking out from under the fox, Mike grabbed the bucket and sponge and got to work.

🕠

          Bizarrely enough, it was the lights flickering that clued him in first, not the buzzer sounding.

          Mike still startled at the loud noise, but not as much as he normally would have. “Two visitors in one night?” he mumbled, carefully sliding the newly sanitized mic back into Freddy’s paw. “At least this one’s asking first.”

          As if in protest at the insinuation that whoever it was outside had manners, the buzzer sounded again, insistently. And this time, it didn’t let up.

          “Oh my god.” Grumbling at the annoying sound, Mike hopped off the stage and hurried to the main entrance, wiping his hands on his pants as he went.

          Thunder rumbled overhead as he opened the door. At some point during the night, it had started raining rather heavily. Both his car and the police cruiser parked under the street lamp were barely visible through the downpour.

          “About time,” said the cop in the poncho a little breathlessly, still smiling despite the fact that she had to be pretty cold by now. She looked Mike up and down blatantly, eyes a little narrowed. “Was starting to think you fell asleep on the job.”

          Mike winced, uncomfortably aware of his ratty black hoodie and the distinct lack of a complete uniform. He’d forgotten to put the vest back on. “Um… can I, uh… help you, Officer?”

          “Vanessa,” the cop corrected pleasantly. “And no, I don’t think so. Just stopping in to make sure everything’s alright over here – we got a report of someone fleeing the pizzeria and I figured I should come take a look. You must be…?”

          Uh. Introductions were a thing they were doing now? Was this normal for cops?

          “Did they finally hire a janitor for this place?” Officer Vanessa’s eyes travelled from the grime staining his sleeves to the bottle of dish soap in his hoodie pocket to the rag dangling from his belt loop.

          “No, uh… I’m a guard.”

          The cop lowered the hood of her poncho, revealing shiny blonde hair pulled back in a perfectly neat ponytail, then paused. “You’re bleeding.”

          It took a second to realize she was talking about the cut on his arm. Mike looked down and winced. In the mad scramble to catch the intruder, he’d completely forgotten about it. Ugh, there was probably so much blood he’d have to clean up.

          “Looks nasty,” Officer Vanessa noted. When Mike just blinked at her, she sighed and slipped past him into the pizzeria. “C’mon. I know where they keep the first aid kit.”

          So this was happening. Completely lost on what to do now that he had a cop in his building, Mike followed. A moment later, he found himself sitting in the office with Officer Vanessa wrapping his arm.

          “You seem to know your way around the place,” was the first thing that popped into his head. He regretted opening his mouth immediately after, but the cop just shook her head and reached for the tape.

          “Well, Freddy’s is on my beat. I like to stay well informed.” A nostalgic smile softened her features as she tore a strip off and smoothed it over the bandage. “Also I really loved this place as a kid. There, that should do it.”

          Mike dropped his gaze to the bandage as she sighed and stood, finding it easier to fiddle with the edges than to meet those probing eyes. He should thank her, he knew, but this whole situation had him all but mute with discomfort. In the dim light of the office, she looked vaguely familiar. He’d never seen her before though, he was sure of it.

          Suddenly, there was a hand in his face. “Vanessa Shelly,” Officer Vanessa said.

          Oh. Okay. “Mike,” Mike returned a little too abruptly, taking the hand and shaking it once.

          “Pleasure to meet you, Mike.” Off- Vanessa put the kit away, then leaned candidly against the safe. “You doing alright so far, Mike?”

          “What?”

          “Are you good? Y’know, okay? Is everything copacetic?”

          Mike blinked at her again. Awkwardness briefly made way for annoyance and he managed a perfectly cohesive, “Yeah, I know what alright means.”

          “Do you also know that your heartrate’s through the roof? And aside from that gash on your arm – which, let’s be honest, is pretty frickin’ bizarre – you’ve been acting suspicious from the moment you opened the door.” Vanessa folded her arms.

          I’m not suspicious, I just suck with people, Mike wanted to say. What came out instead was, “Yeah, I- Look, it’s been a weird night.” He ducked his head. “I cut myself cleaning.”

          “Mm.” Not looking too impressed, Vanessa glanced at the monitor. Then she sighed. “Sounds like Freddy’s.” Taking a seat, she smiled at him. It didn’t look very genuine. “This place, it gets to people. It’s one of the reasons why you’re gonna quit.”

          What.

          “I’m sorry?” Mike said blankly.

          “Oh, yeah, you security hires?” Vanessa shook her head. “You never last.”

          That was two people who thought he wasn’t going to see this job through. Three, if you counted Aunt Jane’s determination to see him fail. Why did everyone think he couldn’t handle even the simplest tasks?

          Some of that must’ve shown in his face. Vanessa’s grim confidence softened somewhat. “Have you met them yet?” she asked.

          Mike felt his eyebrows rise marginally. “Met who?”

          Them turned out to be the robots. Vanessa switched on all the overhead lights using a panel Mike hadn’t found yet, setting off all the arcade machines in the process, then wove her way between the tables with Mike trailing along behind.

          “So what are the other reasons?” he wanted to know.

          “Huh?”

          “Why you think I’m gonna quit my job.”

          Vanessa stopped. “You tell me,” she said. “This somewhere you see yourself ten, twenty years from now? I mean, what do I know? Maybe the benefits are great.”

          Mike scoffed.

          “I didn’t think so.” She resumed her trek toward the stages, adding as an afterthought, “Add to that the thing with those kids going missing…”

          Hold up.

          “Wh- What did you just say?”

          “Prepare to have your mind blown,” Vanessa announced instead of answering, sauntering over to the SHOWTIME button and pressing it with a flourish.

          Colourful lights flashed. Music began to blare from the speakers. Mike startled as the robots slid closer to the edge of the stage, jaws opening and closing in a semblance of singing. The rabbit’s paw passed back and forth over the strings of its guitar without actually touching them, swaying jerkily from side to side, while Freddy and the chicken-duck bobbed and swivelled vigorously.

          For some reason, the sight brought on a strong sense of déjà vu. The sound of children laughing and cheering filled his ears, the scent of pizza flooded his nose…

          It took a few moments for Mike to get his mouth to make sounds. “This… this is…”

          Vanessa was beaming. “The best thing you’ve seen in your entire life?”

          Uncomfortable, was what Mike had been going for. Or maybe really, really weird. He took one look at the figurative stars in the cop’s eyes and decided he wasn’t saying a word about how the robots looked like puppets being yanked around by their strings.

          At least they were clean. It would’ve been creepier if they’d been dirty along with visibly in need of some fine-tuning. The only smooth motion any of them seemed capable of making was with their eyes.

          Was he imagining it, or were all four robots looking right at him from time to time? Their eyes roved an audience that wasn’t there, but the way they kept locking onto his face… no, that had to be the same kind of programming that made Freddy laugh when someone else did. They were looking at Vanessa too.

          “What are their names?” Mike blurted, to keep himself from commenting on the spooky eye thing.

          “You’re working at Freddy’s and you don’t even know their names?”

          “Well, I-I know Freddy’s the bear.” He wasn’t completely incompetent. “Nobody introduced me to the, uh, others.”

          Vanessa laughed. “Then let me do the honours,” she said, still watching the show rapturously. “That’s Bonnie the Bunny on guitar, Chica the Chicken with Mr. Cupcake, and Foxy the Pirate Fox guarding Pirate’s Cove.”

          “Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Mr. Cupcake, and Foxy,” Mike repeated under his breath. “Four robots and a cupcake.”

          “Five,” Vanessa corrected. “And they’re animatronics. Chica’s the lady of the group.”

          Animatronics, then. Was the cupcake really an animatronic too? How did that work?

          Mike glanced at the cop, just in time to catch her mischievous smile. “Wanna dance?” she asked, a split second before Bonnie’s guitar let out an impressive gout of sparks and smoke.

          The music came to a glitchy halt. All four robots returned to their default poses and retreated behind the curtains as the colourful lights shut off.

          “Maybe some other time,” Vanessa said ruefully.

          “Wait,” Mike remembered as she sauntered away from the stage. “You- you said some kids went missing?”

          Vanessa froze for half a second. It was barely noticeable, but Mike was wired enough from the night’s weirdness to catch it anyway. “Sure,” she said with suspicious nonchalance, turning back to face him. “Back in the eighties.”

          That was around the time Garrett had been taken.

          “What happened to them?” Mike asked, heart in his throat. Had they at least gotten their happy ending?

          “Was big news. ’S why the place shut down?” When Mike said nothing, Vanessa sighed again. “Wow, you really didn’t do your homework, did you?”

          Considering he’d been twelve and in Nebraska at the time? He didn’t blame himself for missing this one. They’d only moved to Utah in ’88. And it’s not like Mr. Raglan had told him the pizzeria had history.

          “And,” Vanessa went on in a lighter tone, “you’re not even wearing your badge.”

          Self-conscious, Mike grabbed his vest from where he’d left it and shrugged it on while the cop rummaged behind the prize counter before coming up with a box of objects that made metallic clinking noises as she set it on the counter.

          “Got it!” She pulled a thick brass badge emblazoned with Freddy’s face out of the box and pinned it deftly to Mike’s vest. “There. Now you’re official.”

          Her piece said, she seemed satisfied with what she’d seen of the pizzeria. Mike found himself escorting her out a few minutes later and exchanging stilted pleasantries at the door. “Some friendly advice: don’t let this place get to you,” she said, and then she was driving off into the sunrise in her shiny cop car while Mike squinted after her like a disgruntled cave creature.

          “What a night,” he complained to the animatronics as he went back inside. “First some guy with a GoPro breaks in to poke around in the kitchen, then I get dresscoded by a cop… wait.”

          The kitchen. The intruder. He’d forgotten to clean up the papers the guy threw at him. Why had the guy had so many papers, anyway?

          Any hope Mike had of solving that little mystery went out the window the second he finished gathering them up. Each paper was filled with cramped, disorderly writing broken up only by the occasional sketch – impossible to identify since the artist apparently couldn’t handle a pen to save his life – and so marked up with crossed-out words, arrows, and revisions that none of it was legible.

          Sighing, he rolled them up into a tube and stuck them in his hoodie pocket before glancing at the clock. Two minutes past six. He’d have to hurry to get everything put away and lock up so he’d be home at a reasonable time.

          Well, at least he had some interesting stories to tell Abby.

Chapter Text

          Sparky’s Diner, boasting coffee and fine foods since 1963, had seen its share of odd customers. It wasn’t the ritziest establishment, sure, but the food was hot and hearty, the prices were low, and the hours stretched from early in the morning to late at night – three factors that attracted all kinds of fascinating people.

          Still, this was the first time Ness had borne witness to something downright illegal.

          It began pretty innocuously. “Hey, welcome to Sparky’s. Can I start you folks off with some appetizers?”

          The traumatized-looking man in the dumpy suit perked up at that, but the lady sitting next to him slapped his hand away as he reached for a menu. “We are not eating,” she said coldly.

          Ness cocked his hip, unable to resist an opportunity to get some real conversation. “Well, that’s no fun! You do realize that lunch is the most important meal of the day?”

          “Thought it was breakfast,” the guy sitting across from the rude lady piped up, looking a little confused and a little annoyed.

          Oooh, a taker! “Some people say that,” Ness agreed, leaning on the table. “But, y’know, that’s just a theory-”

          “Are you being paid by the word?” the rude lady demanded. “Or could we have a minute? Thank you.”

          And there went the conversation. Ness thunked the stack of menus against the table to get the edges aligned, shot the girl sitting by the window a sympathetic look, and walked away. As he did, however, he couldn’t help overhearing the next bit of conversation.

          “Ugh, where were we? Oh! You were about to tell me what a miserable failure you were.”

          Ness paused.

          “Hey, screw you, lady,” said the annoyed guy. His tone got more confrontational as he continued, “My sister went over every inch of that dump a thousand times. If there was something to find, she woulda found it. Now pay up.”

          Searching a dump a thousand times for something? A price?

          Wow, would you look at that? Ness’s shoelaces were untied. Better fix that. He didn’t want to trip, after all.

          The rude lady laughed caustically. “I’m sorry?”

          “You said two hundred,” the annoyed guy insisted, almost in sync with his sister saying quietly but with vigour, “We had a deal.”

          “Yeah. That you were gonna find me hard proof of criminal endangerment. Instead, you told me what a nice kid my niece is, and that my nephew sleeps a lot.”

          “He really does, though,” the sister muttered.

          “Sleeping is not a crime!”

          “Is that guy okay?” the annoyed guy asked apropos of nothing. Ness glanced back briefly to see him pointing at the traumatized one.

          “I just realized I shouldn’t be hearing any of this,” said the traumatized one in a tremulous voice. “As a matter of fact, I shouldn’t be here at all.”

          The rude lady pushed him back down as he tried to stand. “Sit down, Doug.”

          Oh, poor Doug. Ness wanted to go over there and bring him a basket of curly fries on the house. Unfortunately, his dining companions were discussing some terribly suspicious things and Ness’s shoelaces were so very uncooperative today.

          “So I guess we’re finished here. Unless… either one of you has a brilliant idea? Which I realize is highly unlikely.” Wow, she was mean.

          The annoyed guy huffed. “Why don’t we just kill ’im?”

          OKAY, WHAT.

          Ness made a shocked noise, thankfully drowned out by the sound of Doug frantically trying and failing to escape the booth.

          “Tempting,” said the rude lady smoothly. “But no. What else?”

          There was a brief lull. Then the sister said, barely audibly, “Mike was sayin’ that… he really needs this new job to like… look good on paper for the judge or somethin’.”

          “Well, that’s all very fascinating, honey, but I am not hearing a plan.”

          “We toss the place,” the annoyed guy said slowly and with growing confidence. “He’s a security guard, right? His job is to make sure nobody gets in. So… we get in.”

          A security guard who slept a lot… This Mike person must be a night guard, then. And he was new on the job, which lined up with…

          Oh, that wasn’t good.

          “And we mess up the place good,” the annoyed one was saying when Ness tuned back in. “We help ourselves to whatever we find along the way, your nephew gets canned, judge gives you the kid, and you give us… two thousand dollars.”

          “One thousand,” the rude lady – the aunt, jeez louise – decided after a moment’s pause. “But… do it fast. And don’t mess it up.” She paused a second time. “I mean, y’know, mess it up, but… don’t mess this up.”

          From there, the conversation devolved into mutterings Ness couldn’t hear. Shoelaces firmly triple-knotted on both feet, he straightened, cast a sheepish smile at a family that was looking at him funny, and tried not to seem too urgent as he made a beeline to the phone by the till.

          He couldn’t really dial 911 for this emergency; he hadn’t caught anyone’s name or the exact details of the planned crime, and the police wouldn’t believe him anyway since he’d called one too many times with crazy-sounding leads on the missing kids’ cases. But he could call one of Sparky’s best repeat customers.

          “Does it still count as an anonymous tip if you pretend you don’t know who I am?” he asked by way of greeting when Officer Shelly picked up.

          The police officer sighed in exasperation. “Another one of your theories?”

          “Nope.” Ness twirled the cord around his finger distractedly. “Just, uh, heard some patrons explicitly state intent to commit a crime. That old pizza place with the singing bear is on your beat, right?”

          Hopefully that sounded casual enough that she wouldn’t realize he was the one she’d almost hit with her car last night.

          “Yeah, why? What’s happening there?”

          “This lady’s got beef with the guard and just paid some teenage hooligans to ransack the place. I don’t know when, though.”

          Officer Shelly was quiet for a long moment. Then, “Thanks for the tip. I’ll check in when I can.”

          “Yeah, no problem,” Ness said, relieved. “And uh… this stays anonymous, right?”

          “Sure,” Officer Shelly agreed in a far too amused tone. “No one’ll ever know it was you. Bye, Nestor.”

          She hung up before Ness could decide what to be offended about.

Chapter Text

          Mike was feeling good as he locked up. It had been a quiet shift, uninterrupted by visitors welcomed or otherwise. He’d made a lot of progress tidying up the office – Balloon Boy had made another appearance, this time on top of the monitor – and even found time to take a couple breaks and read some Dream Theory out loud to the animatronics.

          Sure, he’d probably overdone it on the coffee again, and maybe the yellow bear hallucinations were only getting more frequent, but all in all? This had been his best shift yet.

          He pulled his key out of the lock, got in his car, and drove away, blissfully unaware of the binoculars trained on him.

🕡

          Nobody was in the office when Jeff led the way into the pizzeria. Nobody saw the monitor power on completely unaided.

          “Alright,” Jeff announced, turning to face the other guys as they looked around at the abandoned pizzeria. “Be quick but thorough. Maximum damage, minimum time.”

          On stage, Bonnie opened his eyes.

          “You see anything valuable, grab it and we’ll settle up after. Good?”

          Carl nodded and put in his earbuds, muttering a “Yeah, golden,” while Hank whooped his agreement. “LET’S GO, BOYS!”

          There was empty space where a purple rabbit should be.

          Chaos reigned supreme as the hooligans spread out, gleefully laying waste to the pizzeria as they went. Everything with a glass surface was smashed. Every machine that took change was jimmied open and looted. Furniture was overturned, posters were torn, and nobody noticed the curtains swaying as if something were moving behind them.

          Pizza boxes scattered across the kitchen floor as Carl tipped over the last shelf. He turned to leave, then paused when he heard thumping and crashing sounds from within the fridge.

          Probably just a rat or something. A big rat. One with enough strength to jar more boxes off the fridge just by banging into the side.

          Still, he cautiously opened the door.

          A toy cupcake sat on the middle shelf. As he stared at it in confusion, its eyes flew open to stare right back.

          The pots and pans dangling from the ceiling suddenly began crashing against each other. Carl whirled, but nothing was there. Relieved, he turned back around… and nothing was there either. The cupcake was gone.

          Okay, something weird was definitely going on here.

          He turned, fully intending to leave the kitchen and maybe tell Jeff this wasn’t worth it, and came face to face with a seven-foot-tall robot chicken.

          Chica’s expression was pleasant, her eyebrows tilted upward and her beak open in a friendly smile. And she kept right on smiling as the buzzsaws hiding within Mr. Cupcake’s mouth found their mark.

          In the dining area, Hank had just launched a chair into the glass prize counter when he heard Carl scream. It only took one glance through the kitchen window for him to assess the situation: Carl, writhing in his own blood on the floor while a monstrous cupcake tore at his face and a robotic chicken watched.

          As if sensing eyes on her, Chica slowly turned her reddened gaze upon the window.

          Hank fled.

          Meanwhile, Jeff had found the security guard’s office. Grinning at his find, he hefted the crowbar in his hands and prepared to take a swing at the monitor.

          Just as he wound up, motion caught his eye. There, on screen, was Hank, screaming and running like his life depended on it.

          “Hank?” Confused, he switched to the next camera, and then the next, tracking his friend’s path across the pizzeria. “What the hell are you doin’?”

          He watched as Hank ducked into the janitor’s closet and shut the door hard behind him. Huh. Maybe he should go see what was going on. Whatever had Hank panicked, it wasn’t showing up on the cameras. Maybe he’d seen a bug or something?

          “Hank?” he called, approaching the closet slowly in case Hank came out swinging. “Hank.”

          The voice was muffled through the closet door, but Hank heard it and felt a spark of hope. “Jeff?” He tried the door, only to find it wouldn’t open. The spark went out just as quickly as it had ignited. “JEFF!” he shrieked, fumbling for the light. “C’mon, you stupid- c’mon. C’mon!”

          Finally, the light turned on. Triumphant, Hank turned and found himself staring into the narrowed red eyes of an animatronic.

          To Bonnie’s credit, it was quick. Jeff heard the terrified screams and the sounds of something heavy getting slammed into various surfaces, saw the silhouette of a hand find the window… and then silence as the hand dragged limply down, leaving five trailing smears on the fogged glass.

          The door swung open.

          Jeff backed up a step. “Hank?” he said uneasily.

          Footsteps. Slow, shuffling footsteps, much too heavy to belong to any human.

          Bonnie stopped just outside the door and blinked once at the intruder. Blood glistened dark red against the purple of his cover.

          Jeff dropped the crowbar. Then he bolted.

          Coins showered the ground as he ran, spilling from his bulging satchel. He clutched the strap for comfort, too fear-addled to consider the notion that his bounty was weighing him down.

          Panting, he skidded back into the office and slammed the door shut, then scrambled for the phone. It squealed sharply in his ear, the sound of childish laughter all but drowned out by the horrific noise. He flung it away like it had burned him.

          Okay. He was safe for the moment. He needed to stop panicking and think smart.

          Where were the animatronics? Jeff flipped through the camera feeds until he found the rabbit and the chicken standing next to an open vent, both staring directly at the camera with narrowed eyes. As he watched, Chica bent down with her platter and cupcake in hand. When she straightened, the platter was bare.

          “Shit,” Jeff whispered. He stumbled away from the monitor and threw himself at the grate blocking the office vent, moments before the cupcake slammed into it with enough force to send sparks flying.

          Man and machine met in a fierce struggle, one trying to keep the grate on while the other tried to saw through it. Jeff could barely hear his own panicked shouts over the sound of metal on metal, again and again.

          Finally, the noise died down. For whatever reason, the cupcake was gone.

          He wasn’t going to waste time wondering why. Scrambling to his feet, Jeff reached for the door, only for it to swing open on its own before he could touch the handle.

          No. Nonononono. He was done. He was outta here.

          Jeff inched out of the office, scanning the hallway cautiously. The coast was clear, not an animatronic in sight. Alright. He could do this. The exit was right-

          The office door swung shut behind him. When he grabbed at the handle, it wouldn’t turn.

          That was when he heard the humming.

          Breath coming short, Jeff could only watch in horror as Foxy appeared at the other end of the hall, mechanical steps almost languid as he approached. The animatronic’s eye glowed red in direct opposition of the jaunty tune he was humming.

          He’d been baited.

          Jeff scrambled for the exit. The door refused to open no matter how hard he slammed his shoulder against it.

          Foxy paused. His eye narrowed.

          For a moment, they were still, staring at each other.

          The lights flickered and Foxy charged.

🕗

          Max checked her watch again. It had been far too long since the guys went inside. What were they doing in there?

          Ugh, she shouldn’t have said anything to Ms. Schmidt about Mike’s new job. He was a nice guy, even if he was completely clueless and hadn’t been able to pay her yet. And Abby was one of the sweetest kids she’d ever babysat – no way was Mike treating her wrong.

          Too bad she and Jeff needed the money just as much as he did.

          Okay, something had to be going on in that stupid pizzeria. Max climbed out of the truck and made her way into the building, shivering a little in the cool air. “Jeff?” she called. “Carl?”

          They’d really made a mess of the place. The kitchen was a disaster zone when she peeked in, but nobody was there. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything aside from the gently rotating kitchen fan and her own hushed breathing.

          Up ahead, a door creaked open.

          Startled, Max peered into the gloom. A kid in a yellow-and-white-striped shirt stood by the door, giggling.

          “Hey,” she called, concerned. Why was there a kid in here? Was he lost?

          The boy beamed at her. “Follow me,” he said, and ran through the doorway.

          “Hey! Hey, wait!” Max hurried to catch up. It wasn’t safe in here! What if he got hurt?

          If the kid heard, he gave no indication of it. “C’mon!”

          This was getting really weird. First the guys didn’t show on time, now there was a kid running around the place like it was a game… A thousand dollars wasn’t worth it. But she had to make sure the kid wasn’t hurt or anything.

          Slowing down, Max looked around carefully. Nothing seemed to be out of place. It was weird that the kid was leading her into the bowels of the pizzeria, though. He’d disappeared around a bend in the hallway while she was looking around, but now he called, “This way.”

          The chase ended at some kind of supply room. The door groaned as she opened it, and the floor was streaked with dust.

          Wow, this room was creepy. Robotic parts littered the tables and racks, pieces of animatronic suits lay in piles on the floor, and Freddy Fazbear stood in the middle, eyes vacant and jaw hanging open.

          “Warmer,” whispered the kid, his voice muffled.

          Was he trying to play hide-n-seek? Cautiously, Max poked around the room, sifting through the piles. She recognized some of them – spare parts for the band, probably – but others were unfamiliar. A brown dog, a purple hippo, a green frog… but no kid.

          Something drew her eyes back to Freddy. There was no way a kid could hide in him, and yet…

          “What the heck?” she breathed, coming a little closer.

          “Warmer.” The kid’s voice was a little louder now. Definitely coming from inside the bear animatronic.

          No. No, that wasn’t possible. How was that possible?

          Barely breathing, Max found a folding chair and brought it over to where Freddy stood. Now that she was level with his mouth, she could maybe see where there was room for a very scrawny kid to wriggle in-

          There was a blur of motion, a crunch and a click as Freddy bit down.

          Nobody heard Max scream.

Chapter Text

          “Hey, Abs, whatcha working on?”

          Abby didn’t look up from her drawing. Unlike most of her other drawings, Mike couldn’t even begin to guess what it was.

          “Alright,” he said casually, holding out his badge. “Guess you don’t want this, then.”

          That got her attention. He held his breath as Abby took the badge and examined it critically.

          “It’s cool, huh?”

          Without a word, his sister dropped it onto the coffee table and went back to colouring. Still mad about not being allowed to visit his new job, then.

          Mike sighed. “Okay.” Picking it up, he went to the chest of drawers by the front door and began the very specific process of wiggling and jostling the top drawer free so he could drop the badge inside. It was a process that wasn’t fun or easy no matter how many times you did it.

          A sheaf of intimidating yellow papers stared at him from the drawer’s depths. Most of the intimidating things in his life were yellow, he thought dismally. The phone. Mr. Raglan’s shirt during that appointment. The papers Aunt Jane was desperate to make him sign.

          “I’m trying my best, Abby, okay?” he called, dropping the badge inside and closing the drawer.

          Abby just looked at him silently.

          Alright. It was going to be one of those days. Sighing, Mike headed to the kitchen to get lunch started.

          Moments later, there was a loud crash. He rushed back in, fearing the worst – a burglar, a sudden fit of rage, an injury caused by slipping and falling – only to find Abby kneeling by the drawer, now lying on the floor amidst its spilled contents. In her hands were the papers, the first one titled RESPONSE TO OTHER PARTY’S REQUEST TO CHANGE CHILD CUSTODY.

          “You okay?” he asked, unsure what else to say.

          Abby didn’t look up. “I made a mess,” she all but whispered. “Sorry.”

          Suddenly beset by guilt, Mike reached out to take them. She handed them over without resistance, which just made him feel worse. “They’re just- they’re just papers, alright? They don’t… they don’t mean anything.”

          “Then why do you have them?” Abby said tearfully.

          “That’s complicated. Aunt Jane-”

          “I hate her. She’s mean and she smells like cigarettes.”

          Well-

          She did, though. It was one of the first things you noticed about her.

          Mike couldn’t help huffing a laugh.

          “It’s not funny,” Abby protested.

          “You’re right, it’s not. It’s just, uhhh…” He shrugged. “I’unno, it’s nice that we can finally agree about something.”

          Abby didn’t seem to take comfort from that. Her voice wobbled as she said, “Are you gonna give me away?”

          The thought made Mike physically recoil. “Abs, no-”

          Before he could continue, there was a knock at the door. Mike glanced at it, then at Abby, then gave up and went to answer it. They were coming back to this conversation, though. Abby had to know he wasn’t giving her up for anything.

          Of course, when he opened the door, that thought was all but drowned out by surprise and confusion at who was waiting on the other side.

          “Hey… Vanessa.”

          “Mike,” said Vanessa coolly, rocking on her heels. “And… hello,” she added slowly.

          Mike looked down to find that Abby was peeking around the door as well. “Vanessa, this is Abby,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Abby, Vanessa.”

          Vanessa smiled. It was a different smile than the ones she’d given Mike, softer and sweeter, and it made her look a little like his mom. “Hi, Abby. Mike didn’t tell me he had a daughter.”

          In hindsight, the mutual look of distaste Mike and Abby shared was pretty comical. In the here-and-now, it was a very reasonable reaction to something so-

          “Gross,” Abby said with feeling, while Mike quickly corrected, “No, uh, Abby’s my sister.”

          “Ah. Well.” At least the awkwardness wasn’t lost on Vanessa. “He didn’t tell me he had a sister either.”

          There was an awkward lull while Mike avoided eye contact like the plague and Abby looked the cop up and down speculatively. Then Abby asked, “Are you here to arrest Mike?”

          Abby!

          “Okay, uh… can you go play in your room?” Mike did his best to shoo her away without actually touching her. “So me and Vanessa can talk?”

          “It’s nice to meet you,” Abby chirped, obediently disappearing further into the house. Vanessa waved as she went, which was nice of her.

          Wait, shit. The contents of the drawer were still scattered on the ground. Trying to look casual, Mike pulled the door toward himself and leaned against it. Hopefully that blocked the mess from view. “What, um… what’re you doing here?”

          The friendly smile hardened into a piercing stare. “Somebody broke into Freddy’s.”

          Again? So soon? Mike frowned in disbelief. “What? W-w-what happened?”

          “Someone called in to report a planned break-in, so I stopped by to check it out. Guess what I found?” Vanessa reached into her pocket. “A trashed pizzeria, no guard, and… recognize these?” She held up a little orange pill bottle.

          The sight sent a jolt through him. He straightened, leaned a little closer. “Look, it’s not what you think, alright? Those are- those are sleeping pills. They help me sleep.”

          His protest didn’t seem to help. If anything, Vanessa only seemed more disappointed. “I know what they are, Mike. It’s written on the bottle. Newsflash? If you’re too whacked out to notice a break-in happening right under your nose, you’re liable. It’s called criminal negligence.”

          Mike huffed and looked away. “I wasn’t taking them on the job,” he said defensively. “Y-you wouldn’t understand.”

          “Well, then help me. Cuz the moment I file that report, it’s outta my hands.”

          Shit. Shitshitshitshit shit. No matter how he spun this, it was going to sound real bad. But what choice did he have?

          He considered his options carefully, hating all of them more and more with every passing second. Finally, giving up, he craned his neck to look in the direction of Abby’s room as if he could see what she was doing from here. She knew not to mess with anything while he was gone; she should be okay on her own for a little while, right?

          Clearing his throat, he turned back to face Vanessa. “You wanna take a walk?”

🕚

          It was fairly warm and sunny for the season, but Mike was still grateful for his hoodie. He buried his hands in his pockets as he sat on the bank overlooking the creek, Vanessa making herself comfortable beside him.

          Neither of them spoke for a long moment. He wasn’t looking at Vanessa, but he could feel her eyes on him. Waiting. Expectant.

          “So I used to have a brother,” he began, lurching into the explanation without giving himself time to get self-conscious. “His name was Garrett. And when I was… ’bout twelve, he was, uh… he was taken. And I was there when it happened. They never found the guy who did it, and they never found my brother.”

          Vanessa looked sympathetic when he risked a glance at her. That was… good, probably. Still didn’t make it any easier to talk about. Mike scrubbed a hand over his face, wishing they could be discussing nearly anything else.

          “It’s all I ever dream about anymore. I just- I close my eyes and I’m back in Nebraska, chasing after that car. And I’m screaming, and- and I can see Garrett staring at me through the back window, and waking up’s worse because I know I could’ve stopped the whole thing before it happened if I’d just kept an eye on him like I said I would.” He jerked his chin at the bottle still dangling between Vanessa’s fingers. “The pills keep me from dreaming.”

          “Why did you bring them to the pizzeria?” Vanessa asked. Her tone wasn’t judgmental, at least.

          Mike sighed. “Paranoia, I guess? I-I don’t want Abby finding them, so I just… keep them on me whenever I leave the house. Dunno what would even happen if she got her hands on them, it- it just scares me. Like I’m gonna lose her too. That’s usually the part where people tell me I’m crazy.”

          Vanessa shook her head, a rueful smile on her face. “I know what crazy looks like, Mike, this isn’t it. Not even close.” She hesitated, then said quietly, “My little brother died in an accident when I was a kid. It split up the family, my parents got a divorce… I never saw my mom or my older brother again.”

          Something caught in Mike’s throat. She understood. She’d lost her childhood to terrible things too. “Vanessa-”

          “I’m not making it a competition,” Vanessa added. “I’m just saying… I know what it’s like. To lose someone close to you. I’ve been there.”

          It was a comforting statement, perversely enough. Mike felt a little better about things in general, then like an asshole for reacting like that. And Vanessa was clearly still a functional adult, while he was a mess. Wow, he needed to get his shit together.

          Before he could spiral too far, Vanessa nudged his arm and smiled when he looked up. “Your sister seems cool. So it’s just the two of you?”

          “Yeah,” Mike said. “Yeah, it’s just us. Our mom died, a little while back. And Dad, he couldn’t handle it, so…” He shrugged helplessly.

          A sad look crossed Vanessa’s face. “You and Abby… you still have each other. From where I sit, I’d say you’re lucky.”

          He was. He really, really was. Even if he often felt like he was just making everything worse for Abby. Aunt Jane hadn’t been wrong when she complained about how much of a deadbeat he was.

          Mike was distracted from his wallowing by a burst of chatter from Vanessa’s radio. She sighed and got to her feet, dusting dead grass and leaf debris off her pants. “Welp. Duty calls.”

          Her gaze dropped to the pill bottle in her hand. For a moment, she seemed to be considering chucking them into the creek. Then she dropped them in Mike’s lap.

          “Before I go – how come you didn’t notice the break-in?”

          Mike frowned up at her, confused. “How come- I was at home, how would I have known?”

          Vanessa looked enlightened. “So… you’re a night guard, then?” she said slowly.

          Oh. She’d thought he was day staff. Mike nodded.

          “Well, don’t get too comfortable.” She said it like she wanted to say something else, possibly an apology. It was her tone, just a little too rushed to be the kind of brusque her words implied. “When you’re at Freddy’s, you stay alert.”

          “Uh huh,” Mike said, because there wasn’t really a better way to respond to that. He clambered to his feet, and they walked back to the house together.

Chapter Text

          “Hey, it’s Max. Leave a message. Or don’t.”

          Mike hit redial. “C’mon, Max,” he groaned as the phone rang. “C’mon.”

          “Hey, it’s Max. Leave a mess-”

          He hung up, then spent probably longer than he should just staring at the phone while he thought. There were only so many people he could turn to for babysitting on such short notice. One was Aunt Jane, but that was out of the question. Nothing good ever came from talking to Aunt Jane, willingly or not.

          The other he hadn’t seen since he nearly got arrested for assault.

          Well, it wasn’t like he had a choice now. With Max not answering her phone and midnight fast approaching, all he was doing right now was wasting time.

          Taking a deep breath, Mike dialled. It rang twice, and then the voice he’d both hoped for and dreaded said, “Hello?”

          Mike squeezed his eyes shut and prayed his voice didn’t crack. “Hey, Jer. It’s Mike. Can you do me a favour?”

🕛

          It was a really, really good thing Jeremiah had agreed to stay with Abby for the night. Mike had barely set foot inside the pizzeria and he could already tell the place was in shambles.

          If he thought the entrance was bad, the dining area was a disaster zone. Most of the floor wasn’t even visible beneath the carnage; pulling back the curtains revealed that the animatronics were mostly unharmed, but even they had been splattered with what looked and smelled disgustingly like animal blood.

          And he’d just gotten everything pretty much in order, too.

          “Teenagers,” he complained, figuring no adult in this boring little Podunk town would go to all the effort of trashing an abandoned restaurant for no reason. “You guys hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

          Ugh, this was going to be a long night. He definitely hadn’t brought enough coffee.

          Preoccupied with wallowing in his own frustration as he was, Mike very nearly didn’t catch the dried blood staining the door of the janitor’s closet. That was… hmm. Maybe one of the vandals had tripped and hit their head against the door? But the closet didn’t look like it had been tampered with in any-

          FUCKING BALLOON BOY.

          Mike spun the figurine around to face the wall with enough force that it nearly went flying. Which would’ve served it right, except he was pretty sure the creepy little guy was moving under its own power. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if its “game” went south.

          With Balloon Boy out of the way, he found what he was looking for and quickly lost himself in the tedious, gruelling task of setting the pizzeria to rights once more.

          Naturally, he started with the animatronics. Chica was pretty clean, but Mr. Cupcake and the other band members bore enough bloodstains to rival a zombie horde. Foxy’s hook and mouth were particularly nasty, while Bonnie had it worst on his torso and arms. Freddy looked like he’d eaten a sloppy joe without using his paws.

          Where did they even get so much blood? It wasn’t even completely dry – when he touched the stains to check, his fingers came back sticky and red.

          For a moment, his hands seemed smaller. Smoother. The skin was barely visible beneath the gore coating it, the sounds of the restaurant drowned out by the ringing in his ears-

          Mike blinked the weird hallucination away and worked the stains out very carefully, putting every spare drop of concentration into not throwing up. The smell was horrible .

          Then it was on to the building itself. The floors needed to be swept before anything else could get done; he couldn’t take a single step without his foot landing on broken glass, coins, or cheap toy capsules from the gashapons. It was tempting to collect the coins to bring home, but somehow the idea of taking anything from the pizzeria felt wrong.

          Once the sweeping was out of the way, he could get to sorting out the jumble of overturned furniture. First the dining area, then the kitchen, then everywhere else the vandals had hit. The kitchen in particular had a lot of new messes – lots of ingredients from the freezers, none of which could’ve been good to begin with, but also a plethora of pizza boxes, cooking utensils, and bizarrely enough some smudges that looked like charring.

          The yellow bear flickered in his vision. Mike shook his head vigorously and it went away. Ugh, he was exhausted. He needed more coffee.

          When he fumbled for his thermos, however, it was empty. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since before his shift started.

          Actually… how long had he been at this by now? He moved to check his watch, only to jump when loud music suddenly began to play only a room over. Had someone pressed the SHOWTIME button?

          Mike rushed out to the dining area, only to find it exactly as clean and devoid of life as he’d left it. The singular difference was that the animatronics were all going through the motions of performing for an audience that wasn’t there.

          “Uhhh…”

          As if in answer to the question he couldn’t quite put together, Freddy’s free paw swung out to point at one of the tables, where Mike had apparently missed a chair. It almost looked like the bear was inviting him to take a seat.

          Amused at his own imagination, Mike obligingly went and sat down, leaning against the table and pillowing his head on his arms so he could watch comfortably. It was probably just a power surge that had set them off.

          When the song ended, he clapped and whistled his appreciation. The animatronics all bowed, ears wiggling back and forth and mouths moving as if trying to speak. It was kind of endearing, in a creepy lost-toy kind of way.

          A second song started up, this one closer to background music than a children’s concert. The slower, quieter music was unexpected after the energy of the song that came before, but Mike appreciated how much easier it was on his burgeoning headache.

          Maybe he shouldn’t have sat down. Getting back up was going to be torture, especially since the table was surprisingly comfortable. He really should get up, though. There were cameras to check, bags of trash to take out…

          When had he closed his eyes?

          Mike shifted in his seat, a low whine building in his throat, and tried to work up the energy to open them again. He was briefly aware of something cool and intangible brushing across his forehead – a breeze or a tiny hand, he couldn’t tell which – and then he was adrift.

          “Silly night guard, he fell asleep.”

          The forest was a really nice place. Going camping here was always a blast. Even if it was kinda cheesy that they all had to sit around the picnic table and say grace before they could eat.

          “Shhh!”

          His mom squirted half a bottle’s worth of ketchup on her burger and his dad laughed. His own burger had the perfect amount of ketchup and mustard on it, and he was happy to dig in while his parents teased each other and Garrett played nearby with his new toy plane. Man, they should do this more often.

          “Now what?”

          The soda spilled. Mom went to go get a towel, and he turned to watch Garrett. Oh, there went that kid’s Frisbee. He should really go return it. Surely Garrett would be fine in the two seconds it took to pick it up?

          “I think-”

          Mike startled back to awareness as his watch began to beep. “Shit!” he gasped, sitting bolt upright. How long had he been out? Had anyone broken in? Was he about to lose his job already?

          A glance at his watch told him his shift had just ended. Looking around, he was relieved to see that everything was just as he’d left it, with the exception of the animatronics. At some point while he dozed, they’d stopped performing.

          He yawned and cracked his back as he stood, scrubbing a hand blearily across his face. Ugh, he wasn’t awake enough to drive all the way home.

          Coffee was in order.

🕡

          “Hi, welcome to Sparky’s!”

          Mike groaned into the table. He’d stumbled into the diner mostly blind, flopped into the first booth he found, and promptly fallen back asleep. The waiter’s overly peppy voice was not helping.

          “Can I interest you in some appetizers, maybe a glass of water?” the waiter went on cheerfully. The worst part was that he didn’t sound like he was faking any of it.

          “Coffee,” Mike grunted, adding in a “Please” as an afterthought.

          The waiter hummed in amusement. “Rough night? Don’cha worry, darlin’, we got you. The coffee here’s stronger than Paul Bunyan, y’know.”

          Was Mike imagining it, or did he sound familiar?

          With some effort, he lifted his head from the table and squinted at the waiter. Neat brown hair, clean-shaven face, dark eyes… wait a second.

          The pieces clicked. “You- you broke into Freddy’s two nights ago,” he realized, at the same time that the waiter, looking rather panicked all of a sudden, blurted, “Oh, hey! Did, uh, she get there on time?”

          … what.

          “Did… who get there on time?” Mike said slowly.

          The waiter gave him a nervous smile, fidgeting with the menu in his hands. “Officer Shelly. Did she catch the vandals?”

          So this was the guy who’d tipped Vanessa off? Kinda weird that he’d do that after having broken into the pizzeria himself.

          Mike realized the waiter was waiting for an answer and shook his head. “No, uh, they… they got in sometime after my shift ended.”

          “Oh, that’s good,” the waiter sighed, then backpedalled when Mike recoiled. “I mean, it’s not good that they got in, that sucks, it’s just good that you weren’t there to get hurt? The one guy suggested killing you.”

          WHAT.

          “So why were you breaking in?” Mike asked, deciding to put that nasty tidbit aside for later analysis.

          The waiter winced, looked around furtively, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Y’know what, I’m due a break. Mind if I join you for that coffee?”

          “Uh. Sure?”

          “Awesome, wonderful, great. Be right back!”

          A few minutes later, Mike found himself sitting across from the guy, two steaming mugs of coffee and a basket of fries on the table between them. “I didn’t order these,” was all he could think to break the uncomfortable silence with.

          “Consider it a peace offering,” the waiter offered, stealing a fry. “As a gesture of goodwill to show that I am not in any way a hazard to you, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, or anything else you think I might be a hazard to. Except maybe the fries. Say what you want about the food here, our fries are addictive . I sometimes daydream about them during lulls.”

          “About that,” Mike said before his new dining companion could go off on a tangent. “You snuck in and then immediately went to the ovens instead of literally anywhere else. Why?”

          The waiter made a complicated face. “Okay, before I get into the tragic backstory here, I think we should get to know each other a little better. I’m Ness Fitzgerald.” He held out his hand to shake and Mike took it.

          “Mike. Schmidt.”

          “Nice to meet you, Mister Mike,” Ness said with a wry little grin. He took a sip of his coffee and then set it aside so he could lean on the table. “What do you know about the kids that went missing fifteen years ago?”

          Mike wracked his brain. Vanessa had said something about that, the first time they met… what was it? “Uh, it happened at the pizzeria. I don’t think any of them were ever found?”

          A finger was suddenly jabbing into his personal space. “Yes. Exactly! And when the case went cold, Freddy’s closed down and everybody stopped looking. Almost everybody, that is.” Ness pointed at himself with both hands. “I’ve been hunting for clues ever since.”

          That didn’t sound right. Mike eyed him skeptically.

          “Before you ask, yes I’ve been trying to solve the case since I was eleven.” Sitting back, Ness twisted a napkin between his fingers. “I haven’t found anything yet, but I’ve got a lot of theories about what happened. It’s just taken me a long time to get anywhere on the list since I’m busy during the day and the pizzeria keeps hiring replacement night guards. That part’s kinda annoying, actually.”

          “Why?”

          The waiter shrugged helplessly. “From what I can tell, they keep losing people to workplace accidents. It’s real hush-hush, I only know about it ’cuz lots of them were regulars here. This one guy, Ralph, used to work as day staff back when Freddy’s was still open, but he got too close to some of the equipment like a week into his new job as a night guard and that was that. And the last guy before you, Bob? He-”

          “Not that,” Mike cut in, taking a fry and tapping it absently against the table. “Why do you care so much?”

          Ness deflated, hunching into himself almost defensively even as he stared sombrely into Mike’s eyes. “The second kid to disappear,” he said softly. “Gabriel Fitzgerald. He was only nine at the time.”

          Oh.

          Well.

          That made him just like Mike. Only instead of trying to move on, he was doing all he could to solve the mystery of his brother’s disappearance.

          “Why the ovens?” Mike asked, still mulling this over.

          “One of my theories was that that’s where the bodies were hidden,” Ness answered matter-of-factly.

          Mike choked on his coffee.

          “Yeah, I get that a lot. The police don’t really listen to me anymore. And like, I get it, I’d probably stop listening to me too if I were them, but what if something actually important comes up and they ignore it because I called it in? It could happen!” Unfazed by the new stains on his sleeve, Ness pushed the napkin dispenser closer to Mike and began mopping up the spilled coffee on his side of the table. “But anyway, that’s why I was peeking in the ovens. You’re not gonna report me, are you?”

          He was still coughing, so Mike just should his head. When he was able to speak again, he rasped, “Ask first next time.”

          Now Ness looked startled. “You… Wait, next time? Are you inviting me back to Freddy’s?”

          Well, he hadn’t meant it like that originally, but Mike guessed he was now. “Yeah,” he said like it was perfectly obvious and reasonable, adding in a shrug for good measure. “Makes my job easier, and maybe you get your closure.”

          “Oh my god,” Ness breathed. Then he lunged across the table – fries flew – and pulled Mike into a tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me!”

          Mike felt his lips quirk up in a lopsided smile as Ness realized what he was doing and pulled away sheepishly. “I might.”

Chapter Text

          Ness was already at the pizzeria when Mike pulled up. Unlike the last time he’d visited, he didn’t go in until Mike unlocked the door for them, and he made no effort to run on ahead. “This is exciting,” he rambled as they entered. “I’m kinda nervous, actually, but mostly excited. Even though I’ve been here already. It’s kinda novel to be invited, y’know? God, that probably makes it sound like I need friends. You really don’t mind me snooping around while you do your thing? What is your thing exactly, anyway? Just sitting in the office, staring at screens all night, or do you patrol…?”

          Mike worried his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before answering. Ness didn’t seem like a judgmental person, but who knew how he’d react? “Well, uh, I-I do check the uh, the cameras pretty regularly, but mostly… well, I’ve been doing a lotta cleaning this week.”

          “Because of the vandals?”

          “Yeah. And, y’know, it was gross in there to begin with.”

          “Makes sense,” Ness said without an ounce of criticism, still busy looking around. “Looks like you did ole Freddy Fazbear a great service. Oh my god, they’re majestic.”

          After four nights of essentially treating them like Abby, Mike didn’t quite agree with that statement. They were just big, goofy kids’ mascots. But Ness was probably used to seeing them all dirty and sad-looking, if he’d seen them at all during his investigations.

          “They look so good!” The waiter was whispering now, his eyes shining as he gazed from animatronic to animatronic. “Practically performance-ready!”

          “’S just a sponge bath.” Mike scratched his cheek awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m gonna go check the- the monitor. You can go, uh, do whatever, just… don’t break or steal anything? Please?”

          Ness nodded eagerly and drifted off to get a closer look at Pirate’s Cove. The sound of his voice mumbling excitedly was audible long after his light footsteps faded into the peace of the pizzeria.

          Okay, now that they were here, Mike really, really hoped he hadn’t just unleashed a psycho into the building he was supposed to be protecting.

          Ness really seemed to respect Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, so he probably wouldn’t do anything, right? And even if he did, the guy was lanky enough that Mike figured he’d have the upper hand in a skirmish. He wasn’t particularly buff himself, but he definitely had a lower centre of balance and more muscle mass.

          Again. He probably wouldn’t have to fight the waiter. These were all hypotheticals.

          Shaking his head at his own baseless worries, Mike took a seat at the monitor and flipped through the cameras. All clear, save for Ness wandering around and occasionally fiddling with random objects within his reach.

          The quick check ended up not being so quick. It would be awkward to go back to the dining area and talk to the animatronics with another person there to see him. Besides, this way he could watch what Ness was doing without having to ask too many questions.

          It was interesting, actually. After a while, the awe wore off and Ness visibly shifted gears. The reverent pace sped up to a purposeful stride as he began searching the dining area for clues. For all his ditziness, the guy sure knew how to be efficient when he wanted.

          Finally, Ness disappeared into the kitchen and Mike figured he should head back. Ness clearly wasn’t going to be paying much attention to him at least until his curiosity was sated; it was an opportunity Mike didn’t feel comfortable passing up.

          Besides, he’d left Dream Theory at home today. How else was he gonna keep himself awake?

          “So, what d’you think of him?” he asked the animatronics as he headed to his spot at the table, nodding to the kitchen. It was weird to see the lights on inside, along with the occasional flash of movement through the blinds obscuring the window.

          There was no answer, obviously, but he did notice that Freddy’s eyebrows had tilted at some point, turning his otherwise neutral expression almost sad. The other animatronics contrived to look supportive somehow.

          “I guess you’d know him better than I do,” Mike realized. They probably knew Ness better than they knew him.

          He could swear Mr. Cupcake winked.

          “Sass from a cupcake. Great. This is a serious job, y’know.”

          Said the night guard to an oversized metal dessert. It spoke volumes about this job so far that Mike didn’t even feel that stupid about it. He was growing desensitized.

          “Oh, you’re back,” Ness said, emerging from the kitchen looking tousled but otherwise unscathed. “I haven’t found anything yet, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that. You haven’t noticed anything suspicious and/or murdery around here, have you?”

          “Not really.”

          Ness sighed. “Darn. I’m really regretting throwing my notes at you.”

          “That was dumb,” Mike agreed.

          “Excuse me, it was a very effective smokescreen!” The waiter put his hands on his hips, an incredulous smile creasing his face. “I got away, didn’t I?”

          Mike huffed a laugh. “I’m on medication that makes me tired all the time.”

          “Oh.” Ness eyed him, nodding slowly at whatever it was he saw. “Y’know, that answers a lot of questions I had about you. Probably didn’t help that my legs are so much longer than yours either, huh?”

          He had a point. There was half a foot of height difference between them, most of which was leg in Ness’s case. Mike was all too familiar with this kind of talk.

          “I think I have your notes in my car,” he said, coincidentally redirecting the conversation to something better. “I’ll go get them.”

          Ness clapped his hands in delight. The guy was weird and kind of immature, but in a way that was comforting. Mike knew his way around kids better than he did around adults – apparently that extended to adults that were very in tune with their inner child.

          Dismissing the observation for now, he trotted out to his car. A breeze nipped at his ears and the sliver of skin left vulnerable by his hoodie riding up, and he jammed his hands deeper into his pockets with a shiver. He was going to have a time and a half convincing Abby to start wearing her mittens to school.

          Okay, focus. Where were the- ah, there they were. A roll of ink-filled papers held together by a random hair tie he’d found in the back seat. Mike picked it up and headed back inside.

          “Got ’em,” he announced, holding up the roll and waggling it.

          “Yesss!” Ness all but snatched it from his hand, not even tearing his eyes away from the papers long enough to pass Mike the discarded hair tie. He just held it out in Mike’s general direction and let go, nearly dropping it onto the floor instead of Mike’s palm. Then it was right back to talking to himself, this time while practically inhaling his precious notes like they held the secret to eternal life.

          Weirdo.

          “Have fun with that,” Mike said, already making his way toward the janitor’s closet. He’d been here almost a week, after all, and he still hadn’t done anything about Foxy’s jaw.

🕑

          Ness liked mysteries. He liked sifting through the tiniest of details and making connections and thinking of things nobody else had thought of, and he was good at it. In another life, he figured he was a detective, or maybe some kind of mystery-solving radio host like in the movies.

          (And yes, he was perfectly aware that there was something seriously messed up about discovering that part of himself while searching for his probably-dead brother. He hadn’t asked for this.)

          Still, he had to admit he was burning through theories at an uncomfortably fast rate.

          Of course, it had been fifteen years since the pizzeria closed down. That was plenty of time to scour the premises for evidence and make sure it all disappeared. There was even a chance none of the missing kids had been murdered at Freddy’s at all. But Ness had done his research and done it well; Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was a chain restaurant, and more than one branch had seen a slew of deaths and disappearances. Both of the franchise’s founders had gone off the grid back in the eighties.

          It was all just too darn suspicious to be a coincidence. The answers had to be here somewhere!

          At the same time, Ness couldn’t help but feel that old, irrepressible childhood excitement at being back at what had once been his favourite restaurant. It looked almost exactly how he remembered it, right down to the depth of the ball pit. When he was little, he and Gabe had pretended it was a portal leading back in time.

          Shockingly, there hadn’t been any evidence in there either. It had been pretty spick and span, though. Mike had really put in the work to restore the abandoned pizzeria to its former glory.

          Well. What he’d seen of the pizzeria so far, anyway. Probably there were rooms in the back that he hadn’t tidied up yet.

          Ness paused. If Mike hadn’t thought to go back there yet – if he didn’t know they were there in the first place, even – then there was a chance some kind of clue remained. And if there was something there, that meant he’d been right about the pizzerias and the likelihood of finding the truth would increase.

          Mike wouldn’t mind him going back there so long as he didn’t mess around with anything, right? No, of course not. And if Ness found something he absolutely had to get a more in-depth look at, he could just ask Mike to help him figure it out without doing any damage. This was a great plan.

          Humming under his breath, he set off for the back of the pizzeria. It was colder and darker here, which naturally made it much creepier. Why were so many horror games focused on abandoned hospitals? The ambience of an abandoned pizzeria was so much scarier. Hospitals could be silent on a completely normal day; pizzerias were only quiet if you weren’t supposed to be there.

          Maybe that was just his age-old aversion to all the shadows the bare light bulbs couldn’t banish. He’d never been good with the dark.

          Alright, let’s see. Ness took his time, paying careful attention to every stain and unusual shape on the walls and floor. There were some dark spots he thought could’ve been drops of blood, but they didn’t look faded enough to be fifteen years old. It was pretty suspicious that the floor had clearly been cleaned recently, but none of the cobwebs or dust adorning the rest of the hall had been disturbed.

          Someone had definitely been trying to hide something here. Ness’s job was to figure out what that something was. And who was trying to hide it. So, two jobs technically.

          Following the scattered trail of blood led to the absolute creepiest room he’d ever had the displeasure of entering. Animatronic parts and endosuits everywhere. The whole place smelled metallic and sickly sweet, like the roadkill he sometimes had to bike past on his way to work but worse.

          For a brief moment, Ness thought maybe he’d just found the missing kids.

          No. No, that couldn’t be. They wouldn’t be smelling so rancid after fifteen years, no matter how gruesome their final resting place was. Whatever was rotting back here, it was much too fresh.

          Breathing through his mouth – and barely at that – Ness inched farther into the room. “Don’t touch,” he mumbled, both to keep himself calm and to not forget the horror stories he’d heard about springlock failures and sharp bits in harmless-looking endosuits. “Look but don’t touch, touching’s bad. Touching’s real bad. Touching’s how you lose a foot.”

          It was only because he was keeping such a close eye on where he placed his feet that he got so close to the bodies. He only noticed they were there when he realized the suit he was tiptoeing past had a head sticking out of it. A very familiar head, belonging to the Sparky’s customer who’d kickstarted the process for him being here at all.

          Ness’s reaction wasn’t dignified.

          “AAAOHHHH MY GOD!” he shrieked, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over another suit. As he twisted, flailing, his eyes landed on the faceless corpse he’d almost stepped on, also wearing more animatronic parts than was healthy.

          Beyond it, there were two more bodies in similar condition. One was horrifically battered. The other – the quiet girl’s brother – looked like it had been mauled.

          “No, no, no, thank you,” Ness babbled, backing away. “We’re done with snooping for today, thanks, no more mysteries, gotta go, bye-”

          This had to be the work of the child-killer. And if the bodies were this fresh…

          Oh God, they could be here right now and Mike didn’t know.

          He turned and ran.

          There was no point in being stealthy. Either the murderer wasn’t here at all or they knew both him and Mike were here too, and either way Mike really needed to be warned. If it wasn’t too late.

          Panting, Ness skidded into the dining area. It took a moment to locate Mike – the guy was fascinatingly good at disappearing into the background – but he finally spotted the night guard sitting slumped at one of the tables, fast asleep.

          Asleep and completely unaware of the animatronic looming over him with outstretched arms.

Chapter Text

          Mike was running. Screaming. Garrett’s name left his mouth over and over again until he was too hoarse to vocalize anything other than a pained wheeze. The car sped off as he choked on dust and exhaust, and he was left standing there alone.

          He was vaguely aware of his parents rushing up to him, touching him, asking him what was wrong. Where was his brother?

          How did this happen?

          “How did this happen, Michael?”

          He looked down at his hands, at his shirt, at all the blood spattered across them. It was in his teeth and on his tongue; he could taste it. “I-it was an- an accident. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to!”

          “How could you do this?”

          “I d-didn’t m-m-mean to!” He couldn’t breathe. Everything was crashing down on him. “I-I-I didn’t think-”

          “MIKE!”

          Hands closed around his bicep and yanked. The memory fell away as Mike was forcibly torn from slumber. “What-”

          “WE GOTTA GO,” Ness yelled, somehow hauling him out of his chair entirely.

          Mike’s first instinct was to twist out of the other man’s grip. Then his eyes landed on Foxy, and more specifically the hand that had just swung through the air where his head had been mere seconds ago.

          Foxy wasn’t on his stage. Why wasn’t Foxy on his stage?

          “What the hell?” he gasped.

          “Profanity later, run now!” Ness dragged him away from the animatronic, which had turned to stare at them with one luminous yellow eye. Beyond the fox, the other animatronics were leaving their positions as well.

          Mike found his balance and took off, not bothering to waste time shaking Ness’s hand off his arm. They sprinted for the exit side by side, a mad scramble that only grew more frantic with the sound of heavy feet gaining on them.

          There wasn’t time to shout a warning. He grabbed Ness’s shoulder and swerved around the corner instead of continuing straight for the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Foxy narrowly avoid slamming into the doorframe.

          “Office,” he panted, letting go. “We can lock ourselves in until they lose interest.”

          Ness just wheezed something unintelligible and followed his lead.

          Fortunately, the detour had bought them just enough time. They careened into the office and Mike swung the door shut, a split second before something slammed against it. He dug his feet in and pushed with all his might as the animatronic (animatronics, plural?) battered the metal with powerful fists.

          After what felt like eternity, the blows stopped. The silence that followed was charged. Then, finally, their attacker slowly walked away.

          Mike sagged against the door. “Think they can leave the pizzeria?” he hissed to Ness, who had moved to watch Foxy’s path on the monitor.

          “I don’t know!” Ness squeaked, waving his hands anxiously. “This has never happened to me before!”

          “You’re the expert on Freddy’s!”

          The waiter sputtered. “Okay, yeah, maybe! That doesn’t mean I know how to deal with GIANT KILLER ANIMATRONICS!”

          There was an uncomfortable silence while they stared at each other.

          Finally, Ness ran a hand through his hair and said haltingly, “I guess… I guess they can’t? It’d be on the news if they just started wandering around town trying to eat people.”

          Mike nodded. “As soon as the coast is clear, we should make a break for the exit.”

          “Won’t it be locked?”

          “I have the keys. We should have time to- Oh, goddammit.” His pockets were empty.

          “What? What is it?” Ness’s hair was beginning to look like a disaster zone with how badly he was mussing it.

          “I dropped them,” Mike admitted.

          A long pause.

          “So we’re stuck,” Ness said dully. “Well, that’s just great.” He left the desk and began to pace, muttering. “This is the first time either of us has seen an animatronic leave its stage. There’s never been signs of a rampage, so they’re not trying to escape the building or do any kind of damage. Oh, maybe that’s it! It’s some kinda security feature that was activated by the vandals doing their thing?”

          “Can robots from the eighties really do stuff like that?” Mike asked.

          Ness shot him an odd look. “Animatronics, and why not? They’re clearly advanced enough to use intimidation tactics. And they never came after me, so I don’t think non-vandals would set them off. Maybe the security thing is faulty, and now that it’s active, they see us as more threats.”

          Mike thought about it before nodding. “Makes sense.”

          “And- wait, really?” Ness’s eyes were wide. He let out a startled little giggle, then cleared his throat and added, “By that logic, they’re probably using up a lot of power to move around the way they are. If they’re all mobile like Foxy, they have to be running off some kind of portable, rechargeable power source, so they can’t be active all the time. D’you happen to know when break-ins are most likely to occur?”

          Actually, that was something Mike knew. “Between midnight and six,” he said. “That’s why my hours are so weird.”

          “Exactly!” Ness pointed at him triumphantly. “I knew you were smart! The animatronics most likely have to recharge on their stages during the day so they can guard the place at night. The owner’s been hiring night guards to prevent any intruders from setting off their security mode because having bodies pile up is not a good look. And that means-”

          “We just have to wait them out,” Mike finished.

          Ness shrugged. “I was gonna say you’re protecting the intruders instead of the building, but that works too. What’s the time, by the way?”

          “Just after two.”

          “Four hours,” Ness said with surprising determination. “We can totally last that long.”

          That was reassuring, but there was still one big problem. “I can’t hold the door for four hours. ’Specially not if they try to force their way in again.”

          The tension remained in Ness’s face, but he somehow found it in him to grin a little giddily. “Well, duh. But who said you had to?”

🕝

          It wasn’t a perfect solution. While Emergency Lockdown Mode would keep every door in the pizzeria shut and shuttered even against an animatronic’s best attempts to break through, it was a huge power sink and would automatically deactivate if the breaker went, and then it would require time to boot back up. It would have to remain off until the very last minute, which was why Ness was currently glued to the monitor. Unfortunately, there were large gaps in the cameras’ range, one of which covered the entire hall outside the office, so Mike had to keep watch by the door.

          Not much of a system, but it didn’t matter how fancy it was so long as it worked.

          Bonnie was the next animatronic to come for them, his footsteps slower and heavier than Foxy’s but also quicker to leave when it became apparent the door would not be opening.

          “What do you think they’ll do if they catch us?” Mike wondered, turning off Lockdown Mode.

          Ness winced. “I forgot to tell you! I found the vandals in the backrooms.” His face took on a sickly pallor. ““Rough shape” doesn’t even begin to cover it. All of them were stuffed into endosuits.”

          Mike looked at him blankly.

          “The parts that cover the robotic skeleton,” Ness elaborated. “Full of horrible sharp metal things that hold onto the skeleton so that nothing falls off. And, uh… I don’t think it was the endosuits that… that did them in.”

          That… well. Mike hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since Garrett disappeared, but now he had twice the nightmare fuel. Lovely. “So the animatronics killed them and hid the bodies,” he surmised, swallowing back a wave of nausea. “Was that one of your theories?”

          “No, but it is now,” Ness said queasily. “Can we talk about something else? And can we please for the love of GOD put the fan away?”

          “Why?”

          The waiter shrugged sheepishly. “It scares me more than the animatronics do.” When Mike continued to stare at him, he cracked a grin and quipped, “I dunno, I’m just not a fan of the fan, man. Looks like a deathtrap for fingers.”

          “Sure,” Mike said, deciding this was a stupid hill to die on. It might get stuffy if they had to keep the door shut for too long, but whatever. The stupid little thumbs up Ness gave him after hiding the fan behind the desk was a nice break from the stress of being hunted by killer robots. And speaking of-

          Something clattered in the kitchen. He poked his head out the door and withdrew just as hastily, turning on Lockdown Mode as Chica emerged from the kitchen with Mr. Cupcake in hand.

          The sounds of the office faded as his ears began to ring. His vision filled with static and gaping bottomless eye sockets, empty save for twin motes of white light that burned through him like staring directly into the sun.

          ^{IT’S ME} IT’S ME _{IT’S ME} ^{IT’S ME}

          “-ike? Mike, you okay?”

          Mike shook his head to dispel the bear and refocused on Ness’s concerned face. “’M fine,” he mumbled. “Betcha regret coming here, huh?”

          “I’m having my moments,” Ness agreed, yelping when something began thumping and clanging in the walls. “But, y’know, I did solve a lotta mysteries about Freddy’s tonight, so it’s pretty much balancing oUT OH MY GOD NO SIR NO THANK YOU!”

          The cupcake had travelled through the ventilation system.

          Fortunately for both of them, Ness got to the grate first. “NO, NO, NO, NO,” he chanted at the top of his lungs as Mr. Cupcake attacked the metal, sending sparks flying.

          Mike rushed over to help, only for the onslaught to end as suddenly as it had began before he got there. “You okay?”

          Moving stiffly, Ness peeled himself away from the grate and touched the tiny red marks left on his skin with cautious fingers. “Owww. Is she gone?”

          A look through the camera feeds revealed that Chica had made a reappearance closer to the dining area again. Mr. Cupcake wasn’t visible. “She’s gone,” Mike reported, opening the door.

          Ness sagged against the wall. “I’m never complaining about boring shifts again.”

          “Same.”

          “Are you gonna quit after this?” Ness asked, tilting his head to send a questioning look Mike’s way.

          Mike sighed and checked the monitor. “I’d love to. But I can’t.”

          “What? Why not?”

          “I, uh… don’t have the best track record. Freddy’s was the only place that would take me.”

          “You look like you’re doing great to me,” Ness offered.

          That was nice of him. Too bad it didn’t mean much anywhere else. “Yeah, uh… turns out beating someone up in the food court makes getting a job pretty hard. It looked like he was kidnapping someone,” he said in answer to the shock on the waiter’s face. “But I only found out it was his own kid after I punched his lights out.”

          “Oh.”

          You know what? Mike was tired of having people see only his mistakes without any explanation for why he was as messed up as he was. At least he wasn’t being accused of criminal negligence this time. “I hate fighting,” he told the air wearily, not daring to look Ness in the eyes. “But ever since my brother got taken, it’s so hard not to go on the offensive at the drop of a hat.”

          “Taken… as in lost custody?” Ness said slowly. “Or… the other thing?”

          “Kidnapped.” Mike squeezed his eyes shut. “He was kidnapped. Right in front of me. The worst part is, I was supposed to be watching him. If I hadn’t gotten distracted, I would’ve gotten to him in time, or at least gotten a look at the guy’s face before Garrett was in his car.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and kept going. “But nope, I had to turn my back for just half a minute. I couldn’t even tell the police the plate number.”

          The sound of a deep voice humming echoed off the walls, followed by the stamp of mechanical feet. Mike slammed the door again, feeling drained.

          “My parents both quit the scene a few years ago, and left the house and my sister to me. So no, I can’t afford to quit.”

          Ness didn’t say anything for a long while. He did shriek when something – presumably Foxy’s hook – scraped against the door, but he didn’t address Mike. His face suggested he was putting puzzle pieces together in his head.

          “That’s why you let me come with you.” He stated it as a conclusion rather than a question. “You’ve been through the same thing. This wasn’t at a Freddy’s though, was it?”

          “Nope.” Mike opened the door. “Campsite in Nebraska. I didn’t even know Freddy’s was a thing until I took this job.”

          “That really sucks.” Ness went back to his seat at the monitor, tapping his chin in thought. “What’s your sister like?” he asked presently.

          Finally, something Mike knew how to talk about. “Abby’s the best thing in my life right now,” he began, and Ness listened.

🕓

          “- and that’s why the whole thing doesn’t make any sense,” Ness concluded. “Bonnie just entered the hall.”

          Mike closed the door, fighting back a yawn. They’d been at this for almost two hours already, and the animatronics showed no sign of slowing down. At this point, he was too tired to be properly scared.

          Ness didn’t look much better. How he was managing to stay awake despite having worked a full shift before coming here, Mike didn’t know and was afraid to ask. His face, neck, and hands were freckled with tiny burns from Mr. Cupcake gnawing at the vent grate – thrice now – and his every motion screamed of exhaustion. But he was still wide awake and tracking the animatronics diligently.

          There were patterns, they’d learned. Bonnie approached the office more frequently than the others, but left quicker too. Chica preferred to make a detour through the kitchen before coming their way. Foxy never walked down the hall, only sprinted. As for Freddy, he had an uncanny knack for disappearing and reappearing in the shadowy areas just barely within the cameras’ reach.

          There was no predicting Mr. Cupcake.

          Prepared as they were, it only took so long for the friendly quiet to grow stifling. It was a relief when Ness had announced, “So I have this theory…”

          Now here they were at four o’clock in the morning, discussing theories of all genres to an unpleasant soundtrack of heavy feet and haunting laughter from Freddy. Ness switched subjects very quickly, hopping from one theory to the next with the speed of a bouncy ball. It was dizzying at times, but Mike found the onslaught of facts and opinions unexpectedly interesting.

          Then again, there was precious little else to lighten the otherwise hellish mood. Even pebbles looked like breadcrumbs when you were starving.

          “Hey, was that there before?” Ness asked, pointing. “What even is it?”

          Mike followed his finger to the figurine balanced precariously above the breaker and snorted. “Hellspawn sent to torment my sinful soul.”

          “That little guy?” Ness laughed. “He’s creepy, but he’s also tiny. What, is he venomous or something?”

          “Balloon Boy moves around by himself and is always in the worst possible place,” Mike told him in deadly seriousness. “The only reason he’s still here’s because I’m scared of what’ll happen if I chuck him out the window.”

          Ness looked bemused but didn’t argue the point. “Can I move him? He’s staring at me.”

          “Sure.”

          It wasn’t to be. Just as Ness got up, the sound of Mr. Cupcake’s buzzsaws started up again. “NOPE!” he hollered, taking his place at the grate.

          While he held the cupcake at bay, Mike risked leaving the door to check the monitor. His breath caught. All four of the animatronics were gone. “Uhhh, Ness?”

          Whatever Ness wanted to respond with disappeared in a horrified shriek as Balloon Boy toppled off his perch. Time seemed to slow as the figurine fell, hitting the breaker switch hard enough to push it down.

          Everything went dark.

          “Nonononono,” Ness whimpered, barely audible over the sound of the door shutters rising. Mr. Cupcake had fallen silent, but now they could hear movement from outside.

          The door swung open all on its own.

          Mike backed away, vaguely aware of Ness still sitting vulnerable on the floor behind him. They were both wearing dark clothing, maybe that would be enough to camouflage them-

          A music box began to play. Three and a half pairs of glowing eyes appeared in the doorway, moving slowly and purposefully toward them.

          They could see in the dark? Holy shit, they were screwed.

          “Please don’t see us, please don’t see us, please don’t see us,” Ness was chanting in a frantic, barely audible whisper. One hand found Mike’s ankle and clutched it in a death grip.

          Steeling himself, Mike planted his feet and got ready to… okay, he didn’t know what he was going to do just yet, but it would be something. Maybe he could be a big enough diversion for Ness to escape.

          Freddy reached out, he flinched away…

Chapter Text

          … and the killer robot’s paw settled harmlessly in his hair.

          Mike froze. Freddy Fazbear, who he’d unknowingly washed human viscera off of just the other night, was patting his head.

          There was a loud clank and the power returned, though nobody had touched the breaker. As the lights buzzed back on, Freddy lowered his paw and blinked at Mike, eyebrows tilted in a friendly way. To his left, Foxy held out his hook, with Mike’s keyring dangling from it.

          “Uhhh… th-thanks?” Mike stammered, gingerly reaching out to take them. None of the animatronics made any attempt to grab him.

          Behind him, Ness yelped as Mr. Cupcake rammed into the grate one last time. The grate popped off before he could catch it and the cupcake immediately hopped into the room, pausing to nip at his leg – thankfully without the buzzsaws – before returning to his spot on Chica’s platter.

          “What happened?” the waiter said shakily. “Is- is it six?”

          A glance at the clock told Mike otherwise. “It’s a quarter past four.”

          “Oh.” Ness uncurled from his spot on the floor and moved to stand, making a startled noise when Bonnie silently lifted him to his feet. “Hi, you’re awfully friendly all of a sudden.”

          Bonnie opened his mouth like he was laughing. Both Mike and Ness flinched, and Ness let out a slightly hysterical chuckle.

          After spending the week talking to them like people, followed by a night of fending them off, the sudden switch to harmless but definitely sentient robotic animals was jarring. They were all standing far too close – Chica patted him on the back for some reason – and when that paltry gap diminished, Mike automatically took a step away.

          The animatronics followed.

          Creepy. But maybe useful? The office wasn’t built to contain two adult men, four large animatronics, and a giant cupcake, and though Mike wasn’t claustrophobic, he was decidedly uncomfortable with the lack of personal space. He inched toward the door again, and once again the only response was the animatronics following.

          They were in the hall before long. It was a relief to have more room. But now the animatronics kept moving even when Mike and Ness paused, crowding closer like oversized children. They weren’t doing anything threatening, but then again, they didn’t have to.

          After what felt like an eon of awkwardly shuffling away from the animatronics while said animatronics matched each step, Ness mumbled, “So is it just me, or are we being herded?”

          Shit. They totally were. Holding his breath, Mike stopped moving. He couldn’t help squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation of painful backlash, but the reaction he got wasn’t aggressive at all. Instead, a pair of mechanical paws curled around his middle and he found his feet leaving the floor as Freddy easily lifted him and began to walk purposefully down the hall to the dining area.

          It took a moment for the embarrassing absurdity of the situation to sink in. “Whoa whoa whoa, put me DOWN!” he all but yelled, flailing. Despite his best efforts to squirm out of Freddy’s paws, the bear’s otherwise gentle grip was unyielding.

          “At least he doesn’t look mad or evil?” Ness offered, jogging to keep up. Since Mike’s sneakers were currently dangling about a foot off the floor as Freddy held him like a toddler with a cat, he could actually see the top of the waiter’s head now. He’d really done a number on his hair. “Hey, uh, Freddy? My friend here’s not comfortable with being picked up, you… you mind letting him walk by himself?”

          Freddy stopped and turned to look at him. Then, miracle of miracles, he lowered Mike to the ground. And then he stood there and stared at Mike until Mike got the hint and started walking again.

          “Thanks,” he mumbled, avoiding Ness’s eyes like the plague.

          “Don’t mention it,” Ness returned, sounding distracted. “Hey, so do you think we were wrong about them seeing us as a threat? Cuz I’m kinda starting to think they were just trying to come say hi this whole time. Like, maybe Foxy wasn’t actually banging on the door to scare us? That was just regular knocking, right?”

          He aimed that last question at Foxy, whose head dipped in a jerky nod.

          “I mean, they definitely killed those vandals, but they weren’t trying to kill us. So that’s good. Wait, is it possible they know what happened to the missing children? OH MY GOD, THEY COULD BE KEY WITNESSES.” One of Ness’s hands grabbed Mike’s shoulder and shook him excitedly. “MIKE, WE MIGHT’VE JUST MADE A BREAKTHROUGH.”

          Mike was spared having to respond by the animatronics herding them into the dining area and over to the chair he’d been sleeping in before Foxy presumably tried to wake him. He settled into it while Ness pulled out another chair and sat down, ready for whatever the animatronics had in mind for them.

          Satisfied by their cooperation, the animatronics climbed the stairs to their respective stages, took up their instruments, and began to “play”. Right on cue, the party lights turned on and music began blaring from the speakers.

          Who’s watching?

          Tell me, who’s watching?

          Who’s watching me?

          I’m just an average man, with an average life

          I work from nine to five

          Hey, hell, I pay the price

          All I want is to be left alone in my average home

          But why do I always feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone?

          I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me

          And I have no privacy

          I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me

          Tell me, is it just a dream?

          “Huh,” Ness murmured. “I’ve never heard them play this one before.”

          Mike’s brow furrowed. Something about this felt off. He squinted at the animatronics, searching for some clue as to what.

          All four were staring at him, like the song was meant for him specifically. When he met Freddy’s gaze, the bear’s face suddenly flickered and turned yellow, his top hat shifting from black to purple. Thick black liquid streamed down his cheeks from the hollows of his eye sockets. The glowing motes burning within were focused on Mike with an intensity that was nearly visceral.

          His vision faded at the edges. His ears were ringing.

          ---- - ---- home at night

          - bolt the door ---- -----

          ------ call -- on the phone, -- ------ -- avoid

          --- can --- ------ -- --- -- see me

          Mike snapped back to alertness with a violent shudder. Freddy looked exactly the same as he normally did.

          A trickle of wetness caught his attention, and he touched his upper lip. Oh. He had a nosebleed.

          “Shit,” he hissed, clamping a hand over his nose and mouth to catch the blood.

          “What’s wrong?” Ness asked.

          “Nosebleed.” Blood dripped into Mike’s mouth and he nearly gagged. Lurching to his feet, he rushed over to the kitchen and scrambled for some napkins. Then, once his nose was dealt with, he found a trashcan, leaned over it, and spat until the taste of blood was gone.

          It was an accident! I didn’t mean to!

          He couldn’t tell if the voice in his head was his anymore.

          Mike dumped the wad of soaked napkins into the trash, collected some fresh ones, and returned to the dining area where Ness was waiting, looking a little anxious. “You okay?”

          “’M fine.” Mike sat back down, trying not to look at Freddy. The last thing he wanted right now was another hallucination so soon after the last. Although… maybe Ness had seen it too? “Hey… you haven’t had any weird hallucinations or anything recently, have you?”

          Ness looked surprised. “Sure haven’t,” he agreed. “Why? Are you seeing things?”

          “Yeah,” Mike said hoarsely. “This bear that looks like Freddy but yellow with red spots. And his accessories are purple.”

          “Okay…” Ness tapped his fingers against the table and frowned in thought. “I dunno about the red spots, but that sounds a lot like Fredbear.”

          “Fredbear?” Mike repeated. There were more animatronics?

          “Back before Freddy’s was a chain restaurant, it was a single location called Fredbear’s Family Diner,” Ness explained. “Pretty small, locally owned, and they only had two animatronics. One was Fredbear, the yellow Freddy lookalike you described, and the other was Spring Bonnie. Basically the same thing but with Bonnie instead of Freddy. The really cool thing about those guys was that they weren’t just animatronics. They were designed so people could wear them as suits, to really give the impression that Fredbear and Spring Bonnie were real, living characters. I mean, the suits were super finicky and dangerous to wear, apparently someone got badly hurt because of a malfunction, but you gotta admit it’s a pretty cool concept. Imagine you’re having your birthday party and the animatronics come right over and serve your cake, and they sing Happy Birthday with your name and everything-”

          “Why did they rebrand?” asked Mike.

          Ness smiled sheepishly. “Right, sorry. There was a horrible accident involving Fredbear and a kid, and the diner had to close because of bad publicity. One of the founders quit for good, and the other decided to restart with Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza a few years later.” He paused. “You said you’ve never been to a Freddy’s before, right? Well, maybe you went to Fredbear’s at some point?”

          Why don’t you take him to go say hi to Fredbear?

          “Y-yeah,” Mike said, blinking the odd memory fragment away. He suddenly felt cold. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Or maybe I saw an ad on TV.”

          “Or that.” Ness yawned widely and got to his feet. “Well, this has been an eye-opening night. But I should probably head home now. Don’t wanna crash my bike!”

          Mike checked his watch. Half past four. “Do you have work today?”

          “I’ll call in sick,” Ness said dismissively. “It’ll be fine. Thanks for inviting me, by the way.” He turned to the animatronics and waved. “And thanks for the show! I’d love to come back sometime and hang out, if you’re cool with that.”

          The speakers crackled and then played a recording of maybe a dozen children cheering. Both Mike and Ness jumped.

          That wasn’t something animatronics should be capable of, even sentient ones. Then again, nobody had pressed the SHOWTIME button to play the music, either.

          And the hallucination that made the song sound like a warning…

          No, there had to be an explanation for all this. He just wasn’t seeing it because he was sleep-deprived.

          And that was with the power naps he’d been taking while Abby was at school. He couldn’t fathom how Ness intended to bike home.

          Mike stood up and stretched. “If you wait until six, I can drive you.”

          The look on Ness’s face could only be described as longing. Then he shook his head vigorously. “Don’t you have to be home right away, for Abby?”

          Technically not, since it was Saturday and Abby was pretty much guaranteed to sleep in. “How far from Freddy’s do you live?” Mike asked.

          “About twenty minutes by bike.” Ness rubbed at the shadows forming under his eyes. “Less if I’m going top speed.”

          Nope. That was too far. “You can catch a few hours’ sleep at my house and go home when you’re in better shape to drive.” Hopefully Mike sounded authoritative. The longer he looked at Ness, the more certain he was that letting the other man bike home in the wee hours of the morning after an all-nighter was a horrible idea.

          Ness yawned again. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble…”

          “It’s not,” Mike said firmly. “Stay for breakfast too, if you want.” Breakfast wouldn’t be much, but it was only polite to offer. And Abby would like Ness, probably. At the very least, she’d be wowed that Mike was apparently capable of making friends.

          “Well, who am I to turn down breakfast?” Ness quipped. “I’m treating you and Abby to a meal at Sparky’s sometime, though. Nonnegotiable.”

          That would be a treat, though probably not quite the way Ness intended. Mike couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten at a restaurant, not counting McDonald’s.

          McDonald’s only counted as a restaurant when he couldn’t get Abby to eat anything else.

          “Deal,” said Mike.

Chapter Text

          “Who are you?” Abby asked.

          Ness tried to turn down the force of his smile to something not threatening to children and offered a hand to shake. “Ness Fitzgerald. I’m one of your brother’s friends.”

          Abby shook his hand hesitantly, then looked over at Mike. “You have friends?”

          Ouch. But Mike seemed unfazed. “Eat your breakfast, Abs,” was all he said as he went back to scrambling eggs. There was already a box of off-brand cereal and a small bunch of bananas sitting on the table, along with a carton of orange juice. An ancient-looking coffeemaker glugged away on the counter.

          Most of the things in the house looked ancient or well-used, at least from what Ness had seen. The dishes were probably thrifted since few of them matched, every appliance looked like it had been repaired by an amateur at least once, and the surface of the couch he’d slept on last night was worn thin. Mike clearly hadn’t exaggerated when he called their money situation discouraging.

          Since Ness’s apartment didn’t look that much better, he figured he was in no place to comment.

          Breakfast was an interesting affair. Abby shared more than just wide, dark eyes and unruly brown hair with her brother; the two were both taciturn and uncertain when it came to holding a conversation, so Ness ended up doing most of the talking. The Schmidts didn’t seem to mind this, and by the end of the meal, Abby had smiled four times, laughed once, and asked six questions.

          Ness only kept count because Mike looked a little more alive every time Abby engaged with him, and that told him she was normally more withdrawn than he’d been led to believe. Which led to more questions, but it wasn’t his business to pry when they were so kindly supplying him with breakfast, so he kept those questions to himself.

          Observations aside, it was a nice time. The setting was homey, the company pleasant, and once the dishes were done, the Schmidts drove him back to Freddy’s so he could bike home. “We could do this again sometime,” Mike blurted as Ness got out of the car. “I mean. If you want to.”

          In the back seat, Abby looked hopeful.

          Oh, he’d have to be heartless to say no. Not that he particularly wanted to anyway. “Sure,” Ness agreed brightly. “But only if you guys visit me at Sparky’s from time to time. We have discounts for regulars, y’know.” He winked at Abby, who gave him an absolutely adorable smile and kicked her feet a little.

          Mike nodded slowly, then held out his hand to shake. “Deal.”

          “Deal!”

          With that settled, Ness waved goodbye and trotted off to find where he’d locked up his bike. As he did, he just barely made out Abby’s little voice saying, “I like him. He’s fun.”

          And even quieter, Mike said, “Yeah.”

          Ness grinned to himself. That was a ringing endorsement, as far as he was concerned.

          Now. He was going to bike himself home and take another nap. And then maybe reorganize his theory board.

🕖

          Mike gripped the phone a little tighter, trying very hard to rein in his stress. “You’re leaving? Why?”

          “It’s a family thing,” Jeremiah said apologetically. “Sorry, Mike.”

          “Uh huh.” Mike had aimed for neutral, but it came out weak. “Have a good trip.”

          Now what was he going to do? Max still wasn’t picking up the phone, he couldn’t exactly ask Ness to babysit after last night’s events, and he sure as hell wasn’t turning to Aunt Jane unless the situation was dire.

          That left only one option.

          “I will work and you will sleep, and under no circumstances are you gonna wander off without telling me where you’re going,” Mike told Abby several hours later, pulling into the Freddy’s parking lot. “Do you understand?”

          “I understand.” It would’ve been more reassuring if Abby had been looking at him when she answered, but she was far too busy staring all around her with wide, excited eyes.

          That was going to be an issue. “And you can’t stay up all night, okay? Just ’cause it’s Sunday tomorrow doesn’t mean I wanna deal with your grumpy, overtired butt all day.”

          “Okay.”

          Thoroughly unconvinced, Mike took her hand as they went into the pizzeria – the lights flickered extra brightly, like they were excited – and made their way to the office. It wasn’t the coziest place to sleep, but it was the safest in the event that the animatronics decided to leave their stages. And it was just the right size to build a tent for Abby.

          Thankfully, Abby settled down quickly. Mike waited until she fell asleep, then walked out to the dining area and opened the curtains. “Uh. Hi.”

          All four animatronics turned to look at him, ears wiggling and jaws opening and closing soundlessly. Mr. Cupcake revved its buzzsaws a little.

          “I brought Abby today,” Mike went on, feeling a bit stupid. “I-I think you knew that, but. Uh. She’s just a kid. She needs more sleep than me, and she’s a lot smaller, so… just be careful when you say hi? And, uh, m-maybe wait until morning? I know you don’t… don’t leave the stage during the day, but I can bring her up there to see you. So… yeah.”

          Foxy saluted robotically. Bonnie and Chica gave him a surprisingly recognizable thumbs up. Freddy laughed.

          “Great,” said Mike, relieved. The animatronics might be alive, but that didn’t mean his schedule had to change. Only now he knew they were listening when he talked to them.

          This job isn’t really working security. I’m basically just a glorified babysitter.

          Well, security hadn’t been his thing anyway.

          Mike took a seat at his table and pulled out his Walkman. “How about some music from the outside world?”

🕟

          Abby…

          Abby opened her eyes. She wasn’t afraid; she had no need to be. Clambering out of her tent, she tiptoed over to the desk, where Mike had fallen asleep with his head pillowed in his arms, and gave his shoulder a little shake.

          He didn’t respond. Poor Mike, so tired all the time. Sometimes Abby felt like she was taking care of him, not the other way around.

          “I’ll be right back,” she whispered. He’d said to stay put, but her friends beckoned and she wasn’t sleepy anymore.

          Surely she’d be back before he even noticed she was gone.

          Perhaps that would’ve been the case. Perhaps Mike would’ve slumbered on right up until the alarm signalling the end of his shift went off. But out of all the things he was fatigued enough to sleep through, a scream wasn’t one of them.

          Mike was on his feet before the scream was finished leaving Abby’s mouth. He was sprinting down the hall before the echoes subsided.

          When he burst into the dining area, however, he was brought up short by the sight of Freddy holding Abby in the air and turning in a slow, ungainly circle. Abby’s legs were kicking, but rather than squirming to get free, she looked absolutely delighted. “Mike!” she cried out excitedly.

          It had been a happy scream. She’d never been in any danger.

          Groaning, Mike scrubbed a hand over his face. “Abby, I told you not to wander off.”

          Abby at least had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Sorry,” she said as Freddy lowered her to the floor. “But Mike, look!”

          “I’m looking,” Mike told her, frowning at the animatronics. “I told you to wait until morning to say hi.”

          It was their turn to look sheepish. But Abby brightened. “Mike, these are my friends! Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and-”

          “Foxy,” Mike finished. “I know.” Something occurred to him. “Wait, how do you know?”

          “They told me.” Before Mike could ask what that meant, Abby pulled some paper and markers out of her pockets and began drawing something. “They really like pictures,” she said, handing the finished drawing to Bonnie.

          Bonnie admired the picture, then proudly showed it to Foxy. Foxy looked about as approving as a mechanical fox pirate could look.

          “Huh,” Mike said faintly. “They, uh. Never told me that.”

          Abby nodded, beaming. “They like your singing too. And they say thank you for the baths.”

          That.

          Well.

          Mike didn’t know what to make of that.

          He hadn’t told her about the animatronics’ “spa day”. He hadn’t told her about cleaning them at all. And nobody had known that he sang while he did it.

          So that meant…

          That meant…

          Abby’s friends. The ones present in every picture she drew. The ones Mike privately referred to as Top Hat, Bunny Ears, Hook, and Cupcake because she’d never told him their names.

          They had to be connected somehow.

          Somehow Abby had been friends with projections(?) of the animatronics at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza long before Mike had started working there. And if the animatronics could project(?) themselves like that, and if they were so clearly alive and aware, and-

          Holy fuck, the missing kids from the eighties.

          While they were locked in the office, Ness had said there were four of them.

          Four kids. Four animatronics.

          Four ghosts.

          “Are you okay?” Abby asked.

          Mike nodded on autopilot, only vaguely aware of the question. “I-I need to make a call.”

          At exactly the same time as he said call, the buzzer sounded. Someone was at the door.

Chapter Text

          “Hi Mike,” Vanessa said when he opened the door. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re- Oh. Abby.”

          “Hi Vanessa,” Abby chirped from behind Mike. When he turned, she was waving cheerfully.

          A variety of microexpressions flashed across the cop’s face. None of them were good. “You didn’t,” she hissed, leaning in so Abby couldn’t hear.

          Mike blinked at her. “Didn’t… oh. I couldn’t find a babysitter.”

          Huffing, Vanessa pushed past him and strode into the pizzeria, showing absolutely no surprise when she found all four animatronics off their stages. “Hey, guys.”

          “Hold up, hold up,” Mike blurted, jogging to catch up. “You knew about them? That they’re-” Not alive. “Uh.”

          The look he got for that was undeservedly flat.

          Okay. Two people could play at that game. “That they’re ghost children possessing giant robots? Thanks for the heads up, by the way. I thought I was losing it.”

          Now Vanessa was staring at him. It wasn’t the are you serious look from before, but rather a how did YOU know? kind of stare. The kind of stare that made Mike suspect she’d never expected anyone to figure out the possession thing, which was fair except that didn’t explain how she’d come to know that herself.

          While they’d been talking, Abby had run over to the animatronics and begun a conversation of her own. Now she turned to face the adults and announced, “Guys, we need help.”

          Mike let his gaze linger on Vanessa for a moment longer, then jogged over to see what they needed. The animatronics made room for him, not without some (probably) affectionate jostling.

          What they needed help with turned out to be the construction of a fort. Abby laid out the blueprints and got right to the heart of the issue. “It needs to be big so we can all fit inside.”

          “We can do that,” said Mike. He looked pointedly at Vanessa.

          “I think we could use the tables,” she agreed.

          The next hour or so passed in an industrious blur. The animatronics set up the tables and flipped the booth benches onto their sides under Abby’s command, while Mike and Vanessa arranged chairs and adjusted things so they were less likely to fall over.

          Finally, the fort was complete. Everyone lay on their backs in a circle, gazing up at the ceiling.

          It was nice. Mike felt more relaxed than he had in a long time, in spite of all the new issues he should’ve been stressing about.

          “It’s perfect,” was Abby’s verdict. “But I think it’s gonna rain soon.”

          Vanessa propped herself up on her elbows to grin at her. “Sounds like we need a roof. I’ll go see what I can find.”

          There was Mike’s chance. “I’ll, uh, I’ll come with you,” he said, sitting up as well. Together, they headed into the storage room, where Vanessa began rummaging through the hodgepodge of supplies with surprising vigour. “We need to talk.”

          Vanessa didn’t so much as glance at him. “They used to keep tablecloths back here for big events.”

          “Right,” Mike agreed shortly. “And remind me how you know that?” When he received no answer, he looked around. There was some kind of doll-faced animatronic sitting propped up against the shelves, its front swung open to display a hollow centre.

          “Found ’em,” Vanessa exclaimed, opening a cardboard box and pulling out a tablecloth.

          Mike ignored her. Crouching in front of the animatronic, he reached out a hand…

          “Don’t!”

          And there it was. Mike pulled back and stared at her blankly, waiting for some kind of explanation as to why she knew that the suits were dangerous.

          If Vanessa realized she’d been baited, she didn’t show it. “I wouldn’t do that,” she continued, somewhere between nervous and awkward. “They’re springlocks?”

          Mike continued to stare. It seemed to work; with nothing else to fill the silence, Vanessa kept rambling.

          “They’re on all the older models. They were designed to keep the animatronic parts in place so that, uh, a person could safely wear the suit. They tend to be pretty unstable.” She looked around, then grabbed a broom and began poking carefully at the animatronic. “Let’s see…”

          The springlocks snapped shut with a sickly crunch. Shards of splintered broom went flying.

          Mike’s vision flared blood-red.

          “Like I said,” Vanessa finished, setting the broom aside. “Unstable.”

          “Is there anything else you wanna… tell me about, Vanessa?” Mike didn’t bother trying not to sound accusing. “’Cause you seem to know everything about this place.”

          Vanessa halted, halfway to the door with her tablecloths. “Mike-”

          “Something happened here,” Mike insisted. “Kids don’t just go missing. And they sure as hell don’t turn up as ghosts that possess animatronics and kill intruders.” He waved a hand to indicate the storage room, taking bitter satisfaction from the way Vanessa went pale. “Yeah, I know what got the vandals that broke in here. I just don’t know what happened after.”

          Something in Vanessa’s eyes changed. “Mike, you need to drop this,” she warned.

          But Mike wasn’t done. He’d put up with enough shit to cover an entire lifetime, an honest explanation was the bare minimum he could get in return. And if it came with the catharsis of finally getting to be mad without worrying that he was in the wrong? “I signed on to guard an empty building,” he all but shouted, “not whatever messed-up murder/ghost thing you’re covering up!”

          Vanessa stepped into his space. “I’m telling you, you need to let it go,” she returned, teeth gritted and eyes hard.

          Let go, Mike!

          It was a child’s voice, a little girl who wasn’t Abby. It was like Vanessa’s but younger. And achingly familiar.

          “Who the hell are you?” Mike whispered.

          Just like that, Vanessa deflated. She backed away, then moved toward the door again. “Just someone who’s trying to help.”

          This time, there was no stopping her. Mike had to scramble to keep up as she stormed out of the storage room, down the hall, and into the dining area where the animatronics were now putting on a show for Abby. “Vanessa, wait!”

          He was ignored once again. Vanessa was genuinely upset, he realized. Not just frustrated or annoyed, but upset. Maybe even scared?

          Mike caught her by the sleeve. “Talk to me.”

          Vanessa dropped the tablecloths onto the nearest table and whirled to glare at him. “I’m trying,” she snapped. “You’re not listening.”

          It would be easier if you just gave it to me straight instead of making cryptic hints and then changing the subject on me, Mike thought but didn’t say. Out loud, he said less abrasively, “Please. At least tell me nobody else is gonna “go missing” around here.”

          He thought he saw Vanessa’s face soften, but then she was looking past him and her voice rose in alarm. “Abby?”

          Abby had climbed onto the main stage and was standing in front of Bonnie. She reached toward the guitar…

          Vanessa started toward the stage, Mike hot on her heels. “ABBY!”

          … her hand came up…

          “WAIT, ABBY, DON’T-”

          … and the guitar erupted in a spray of sparks.

          Time seemed to eclipse itself. Mike blinked and he was kneeling on the floor with Vanessa, trying to wake his little sister.

          Then she opened her eyes and turned her head to cough, and relief flooded through his veins.

          “What happened?” Abby croaked.

          “It’s okay, Abby,” Vanessa said softly, helping her sit up. “You just had an accident. You’re okay.”

          Mike let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and gathered Abby up in his arms for the gentlest hug he’d ever given anyone. She hugged him back, less gently. It was probably a good sign that she had the strength to squeeze.

          It was time to go home. The fact that the clock hadn’t struck six was irrelevant.

          Abby didn’t protest as she was carried out to the car and buckled in, nor when Mike closed the door so he and Vanessa could have a final moment of privacy to talk. “Vanessa-”

          Vanessa’s expression was stern, but her voice sounded close to tears when she cut him off. “Just go home, Mike. Take care of your sister.”

          Something had to be going on here. She was a good person, she had to be. The animatronics treated her like a friend, Abby liked her, Ness trusted her…

          And yet those bodies couldn’t have disappeared on their own. Unless the owner had come by to dispose of them, Vanessa was the only person who could’ve done it.

          “What are you so afraid of?” Mike blurted before he could think of a better way to ask. He faltered when Vanessa’s breath hitched, but it was too late to take it back. “In the storage room. I saw your eyes… you were terrified.”

          For a moment, he thought he was going to finally get a real answer. Then the moment passed.

          “Mike, get your priorities straight,” Vanessa said coldly. “Abby almost died because you were irresponsible enough to bring her here.”

          You were irresponsible and now he’s dead. He died because of you.

          Wait.

          He?

          Vanessa leaned in close, eyes ablaze and expression dead serious. “I don’t care what you do after this, but if you ever endanger her like that again, I will shoot you.”

          Mike stumbled back. “You- I- What?”

          But Vanessa was already halfway back to her car.

          Fuck.

          Still reeling, Mike climbed into the driver’s seat of his car and shut the door with the stiltedness of a fawn taking its first steps. Then he just sat there, staring listlessly out the windshield as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened since the beginning of his shift.

          “She looked so angry,” said Abby in a fragile voice. “Why does everyone always look at you that way?”

          Because I’m a fuck-up.

          Because I’m the reason you don’t have parents and another older brother.

          Because I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m tired and angry and scared and everyone can see that.

          Because I’m not the family you deserve.

          Mike said nothing. He took Abby’s hand and held it the entire way home.

Chapter Text

          Mike was back to staring at the phone. Once again, it stared right back. Cold, indifferent. Worse, because he was about to completely destroy the rapport he’d worked so hard to build with Abby, and he had absolutely no choice in the matter.

          Ness couldn’t babysit.

          Jeremiah couldn’t babysit.

          Max still wouldn’t pick up the phone.

          And he sure as hell wasn’t bringing Abby back to the pizzeria.

          There was no getting around it. He had to do this. He had to.

          Mike brought the handset up to his ear, cleared his throat, and practically stabbed the buttons. He could feel his face twitching in disgust at what he was about to do, but he kept his tone brisk and emotionless when the call went through.

          “Hey, it’s Mike. I need your help.”

🕖

          “Abby, we need to talk.”

          Abby looked up from her latest drawing. “Yeah?”

          The words stuck in Mike’s throat. He leaned a little heavier on the door frame and cleared his throat again. “I can’t take you to work with me tonight.”

          “Oh.” She looked crestfallen for a moment, then put on a serious face and asked, “Is Ness gonna babysit me?”

          “I asked him. He’s got work tonight too.”

          Abby frowned. “Then who’s gonna stay with me while you’re gone?”

          Oh God. Here it was.

          Mike squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will away the nausea curdling in his gut. Just spit it out, Mike. Get it over with. “I, uh-”

          “No,” Abby said in horror. “No. Not Aunt Jane.”

          “It’s just for tonight-” Mike tried.

          Abby shot to her feet, stance rigid. “No! She’s not allowed in our house! Once she gets in, she’ll keep coming back and then she’ll take me with her and I’ll never see you or my friends again!”

          The thought sent a chill through Mike, made worse by the fact that he’d had similar concerns thousands of times since becoming her legal guardian. “Abs, c’mon.”

          “Take me with you,” Abby insisted desperately. “I’ll stay in the office and won’t touch anything. Or leave me at Sparky’s with Ness! Just don’t leave me with Aunt Jane!”

          “She’s already here,” Mike said.

          Abby fell abruptly, painfully silent.

          “She’s in the living room.”

          “I hate you.” She said it quietly. Then, in a shout, “I HATE YOU, MIKE!”

          Mike’s heart crumpled. Without a word, he closed the door and walked back to the living room where Aunt Jane waited, a cup of coffee in hand. She’d already laid claim to his armchair, sitting with her back straight and her legs folded primly as though she were the homeowner and he the unwelcome guest.

          Maybe she hadn’t heard.

          “She reminds me of you, y’know,” Aunt Jane noted, smug as always. “Always with the temper.”

          Fuck. She’d heard.

          Mike looked away, fighting the urge to grind his teeth. “When she calms down, can you, um, tell her that I’m sorry and that I’ll- I’ll be back soon?”

          Don’t look at her. Don’t let her see that she’s getting to you.

          The first part was easy. He busied himself with pulling on his vest and making sure his backpack was zipped all the way, then slipped his shoes on and opened the door to leave.

          “There’s a larger conversation that needs to happen here.” She said it like she was owed it. Like he was being unreasonable and she was sick and tired of being the bigger person. “So when you do get back, you and me are gonna have a little… chat.”

          Considering Mike fully planned on kicking her out of the house upon his return, physically if necessary, he very much doubted that. “Okay,” he said as unconvincingly as possible, and slammed the door behind him.

          His frustration abated a little by the time he pulled into the Freddy’s parking lot. God, he hoped this would be a quiet night. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Vanessa showed up again. Cry, maybe.

          Could he talk to the animatronics about this? They were good listeners, at least as far as he could tell. But they were also just kids. Maybe it wasn’t fair to vent at them.

          “Hey, guys,” he called wearily, crossing through the arch into the dining area. The lights didn’t flicker, but he barely noticed. The animatronics were all off their stages already, coming to meet him. “Abby’s okay, don’t worry. She’s just a little-”

          Pain erupted in his side. Mike stumbled back, one hand automatically going to his ribs. It came away bloody.

          This isn’t right, he thought woozily. This isn’t-

          Foxy swung at him again. This time his fingers slashed across Mike’s chest. When Mike tried to back away, he found that the other animatronics had boxed him in.

          There was nowhere to run.

          “What are you doing?” Mike gasped, trying in vain to find a way out anyway.

          Freddy laughed. The expression on his face was distinctly unfriendly, as were those of the other animatronics.

          Then something slammed into the back of Mike’s head, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

          He was vaguely aware of massive paws clamping around his leg, but the sensation was distant, painless. So was the sensation of being dragged across the floor.

          Mike blinked a few times. Between blinks, he was in the hall. The storage room. Propped upright in a chair. The pressure on his leg was gone.

          He shook his head groggily, and his vision cleared. That was when the mask-like torture device slowly nearing his face finally registered.

          Awareness returned in a heartbeat.

          Spinning blades, glowing red lights like demonic eyes, the angry whine of machinery… He tried to pull away, only to find that his wrists were cuffed to the armrests of his seat and a bar over his chest prevented him from ducking.

          Mike struggled against his bonds for all he was worth. In his panic, he nearly missed the quiet rattle of a loose bolt all but drowned out by the mask. Nearly. But nearly was enough.

          The bolt quickly grew slippery with sweat as he fumbled at it one-handed. Sparks stung his eyes and the pain combined with terror to make his whole body tremble beyond control. He was vaguely aware that he was whimpering in fear.

          Finally, the bolt popped free. Mike squeezed his eyes shut and slapped around the arm rest for something – anything – that felt useful. His hand found a button and he slammed it. The first cuts opened up on his face…

          … and the restraints all deactivated.

          Gasping for air, Mike slid down and out of the chair and scrambled away, just in time to watch as the mask tore into the metal headrest and shorted out. The noise was horrific.

          God, he’d almost died. That thing had almost killed him. And it was clearly meant to kill people – why else would there be spinning blades on the underside of a mask? – and the animatronics lacked the dexterity to work that kind of machinery, not that Mike thought they would deliberately torture people like that, and that meant…

          Mike lurched to his feet – his vision swam and his head throbbed, fuck, he probably had a concussion – and staggered out of the storage room. He had to get out of here. He had to call the cops, Vanessa, anybody. They needed to know-

          The exit door was locked. He tried to pull his keys out of his pockets, only to drop them with how badly his hands were shaking. As he carefully bent to retrieve them from the floor without toppling over, he realized the jangle of his keys wasn’t the only thing he was hearing.

          Footsteps. Heavy, metallic footsteps. And a familiar, inappropriately jaunty tune hummed by a familiar voice.

          Up until tonight, Mike had had nothing but bewildered fondness for Foxy. The bedraggled outcast of the lot was his secret favourite animatronic. Now, though, the only thing on Mike’s mind was getting as far away from him as possible.

          Foxy paused. Looked at Mike almost curiously.

          Then he was on the move.

          Mike screamed and stabbed the first key he found into the lock. He twisted, pushed…

🕦

          It was getting late and Jane had still seen neither hide nor hair of her niece. She knocked on the bedroom door, nice and crisp. “Abby?”

          No answer. Abby had been silent as the grave since that little yelling fit.

          Personally, Jane felt very vindicated. There was no way of knowing what exactly had prompted the outburst, but she was certain Mike was at fault. In fact, Abby would probably jump at the opportunity to leave Mike’s custody and be taken into hers. If not for Mike’s refusal to listen to reason, she could be living a much more comfortable life than the squalor of this dingy little house.

          And Jane would receive nice little cheques on the regular for the next twelve years, but that was neither here nor there.

          “You can’t stay in there forever, you know,” she said a little louder, in case Abby hadn’t heard her.

          More silence. Really, Mike was a terrible influence on the poor girl. She was becoming obstinate and sullen.

          Well, that was a problem for Mike to deal with tomorrow. He’d caused this behaviour, he could very well fix it. “Suit yourself.”

          Jane sighed as she relocated to the living room – there was only one halfway decent chair, though it was painfully ugly to look at – and turned on the television. After a bit of channel-surfing, she found a talk show that looked interesting enough.

          Perfect.

          This was the home stretch, and it was going to be ridiculously easy. All she had to do was stay here and let Abby stew, and when Mike returned from his pathetic little gig, he’d be tired enough that he’d agree to nearly anything.

          Engrossed as she was in savouring the impending victory, Jane nearly missed the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind. She twisted in her seat, but found nothing to suggest anyone had ever been there.

          The lights flickered. The talk show dissolved into static.

          “Hmph,” Jane grumbled, shaking her head. “That lazy ass must’ve forgotten to pay the electricity bill-”

          That was as far as she got, because as she turned back to face the TV, she came face to face with a yellow animatronic bear.

🕛

          Sparky’s was unusually busy today. Ness wondered why that was. It was the beginning of the week, after all; most people were in bed by now.

          “Oi, Junior! Those tables ain’t gonna clear themselves.”

          “On it,” Ness returned, shaking himself back to awareness. Barb wasn’t mean, exactly, but she had strong views on slacking off. And she had a tendency to hint that nepotism was the main reason he’d been hired whenever she caught him zoning out on the job.

          Sighing, he gathered up all the dishes and garbage onto a tray and made his way back to the kitchen. He liked working at Sparky’s, all in all. But the only place he wanted to be right now was at the Schmidt household, going over his theories while Abby hopefully slept peacefully. Freddy’s was kind of on his no-go list right now.

          He hadn’t wanted to admit so to Mike, but he was still kind of freaked out about what the animatronics had done to those vandals. Maybe they’d had it coming, but that didn’t change the fact that those were people who’d probably died horrible, painful deaths and then were hidden away where nobody would ever find them…

          Wait a second.

          Why had the animatronics stuffed the dead vandals into springlock suits? They were fully aware, they had to have known the vandals were dead already. And why go to the effort of hiding the bodies?

          Unless…

          The pizzeria had been searched thoroughly for the missing kids, that much everyone knew. But had they bothered to check the animatronics?

          Maybe the animatronics hid the bodies in the suits because they were recreating what had happened to the kids. Maybe they’d killed those kids themselves. Or maybe…

          Ness dropped the tray.

          “OI!” Barb hollered.

          Ness barely heard her. Leaving the tray where it was, he rushed out of the kitchen, tossing a “IfeelsicksorrygottagotellSparkyI’llmakeituptohimbye” over his shoulder in passing.

          Mike needed to hear this.

Chapter Text

          Thud.

          Abby looked up. Straining her ears, she found that the muffled sounds of Aunt Jane’s talk show had gone quiet.

          Something compelled her to climb out of bed and tiptoe out of her room. When she entered the living room, Aunt Jane was nowhere to be found. The TV was still on, its screen a mess of static and garbled strings of text, but that wasn’t as interesting as the derelict animatronic bear standing in the middle of the room, singular functioning eye glowing blue in its socket.

          Abby gasped in delight. “Freddy?”

          She blinked and a boy was standing before her. He had short brown hair and dark eyes, wore a striped shirt, and looked to be about her age. His cheeks were damp like he was crying, or maybe leaking oil from his eyes. “Not Freddy,” he said softly, coming closer.

          And he was right. When Abby really looked at the animatronic, she saw that the matted felt was yellow and covered in rusty brown stains. The bow tie and top hat were purple, not black. And it was a lot more damaged-looking than the Freddy she knew.

          “Mike’s in danger,” said the crying child. “We need to go find him.”

          Any remaining anger Abby felt toward her brother evaporated. She looked around, worried that any second Aunt Jane would come in and stop her. Where was Aunt Jane, anyway?

          Her gaze drifted downward. A pair of legs wearing jeans and dumb-looking boots was sticking out from behind Mike’s favourite chair.

          The crying child turned to look as well. Then he held out a hand for Abby to take. “Don’t worry about Aunt Jane. I took care of her.”

          “How do we get to the pizzeria?” Abby asked, grabbing her backpack just in case and following him out the door, the yellow bear lumbering along behind them.

          “Follow me,” the crying child answered, which wasn’t exactly helpful. But Abby had bigger problems right now.

          They were out of the house now, down the driveway and turning onto the sidewalk…

          … and Abby shrieked in surprise as she ran right into the man speed-walking the other way.

          “Abby?”

          “Ness!” Abby gasped, stumbling backward. The bike Ness had been wheeling toppled onto the ground and she nearly followed.

          Ness caught her by the shoulders and steadied her. “Hey, what’s going ooOOOH MY GOD HI.” This was aimed at the yellow bear, which merely tilted its head to appraise him.

          “We need to get to the pizzeria,” Abby said when it looked like they were just going to keep staring at each other.

          “The p-” Ness shook his head vigorously. “Where’s Mike?”

          “At the pizzeria.”

          “And he just left you at home?”

          The memory made Abby scowl briefly. “He made me stay with Aunt Jane.” She pointed back at the house. “She’s sleeping on the floor for some reason.”

          Ness’s eyes followed her finger. He glanced at the yellow bear, then back at Abby. “I… think I’d better go see what’s up with that. Wait here, okay?”

          He was an adult, and a nice one at that. Abby looked at the crying child, who nodded. “Okay.”

          Without another word, Ness ran into the house. He stayed inside for what felt like a really long time, then came out looking frazzled. “Okayyy so an ambulance is coming to pick up your aunt,” he announced, running both hands through his hair and making a big mess of it. “Why are we going to the pizzeria?”

          Good, they could finally do something about this. Abby pointed in the direction she thought the pizzeria was in. “Mike’s in trouble!”

          Ness’s face did something complicated. Then he nodded firmly. “That’s it, we’re taking a taxi.”

🕐

          Mike’s eyes flew open.

          He felt like death warmed over. The gouges in his chest and ribs burned. His head ached. His throat was dry and his skin clammy with drying sweat.

          Wait. He was feeling things. That meant… he wasn’t dead? And he wasn’t strapped to anything, sliced up, or impaled on Foxy’s hook?

          Doing his best not to hyperventilate, he lifted his head – ow – and tried to take stock of the situation. This wasn’t the pizzeria. That was either good or really, really bad, because he had no memory of relocating and the alternative was that someone had done it for him. Whoever it was had also taken the liberty of removing his sweatshirt and vest, presumably so they could bandage him up.

          God, the cuts hurt.

          “Careful.”

          Mike looked up to find that Vanessa had just entered, out of uniform and looking exhausted. There was blood on the sleeves of her sweater. Oh. She was the one who’d rescued him.

          “I managed to stop the bleeding but you’re probably gonna need stitches,” she went on, bustling around the room on an agenda Mike wasn’t privy to.

          “Where are we?” The words came out a little slurred.

          “Police supply outpost,” Vanessa said very matter-of-factly. She stopped what she was doing and came to sit on the cot by Mike’s feet, expression grave. “I found you just outside the emergency exit at Freddy’s. They couldn’t reach you from inside, but you were… badly hurt.”

          Badly hurt. Mike forced his abused body to sit mostly upright, trying to ignore how his limbs shook as he leaned forward to better get his message across. “They tried to kill me, Vanessa.”

          She didn’t look surprised. That in itself wasn’t very surprising either.

          Mike wanted to scream. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

          Something else occurred to him, then. He’d nearly met the same fate as the vandals. According to Ness, they had been an older man, two guys in their early- to mid-twenties, and a girl maybe a couple years younger. And they’d been hired by Aunt Jane to get him fired. Incidentally, he’d been deprived of a babysitter the very next day.

          “Max? Her brother?” He hoped he was wrong. But as Vanessa made a face like she was working very hard not to cry and then looked away, he realized he wasn’t. “You knew about them too, right?”

          “It’s complicated,” Vanessa said softly.

          Mike found it in him to scoff. Deciding he needed to move, he climbed laboriously off the cot. “Yeah. More complicated than possessed robots murdering innocent people?”

          “They weren’t innocent-”

          “They’re still people,” Mike snapped. “Is that what happens to everyone that goes in there? Who’s next, huh? Ness?”

          Vanessa looked stricken. “I told him to stay away.”

          “Like you “told” me?” When he received no answer, Mike sighed. “Okay. So the kids kill intruders apparently at random. Is there a reason they stuff the bodies into endosuits, or…?”

          “It’s instinct,” Vanessa whispered. “They make their victims like them.”

🕜

          Abby giggled as the taxi sped away a little faster than was legal, leaning against the yellow bear – who was Ness kidding, that had to be Fredbear of all things – like he was an old friend. Ness could see how the taxi driver’s alarm was kinda funny, but as he was still struggling to comprehend the events of the evening himself, he couldn’t really offer up much by way of a laugh.

          Here were the facts:

          1. Fredbear hadn’t been decommissioned following what had become known as the Bite of ’83 around here.

          2. Fredbear had showed up in Mike’s house.

          3. Fredbear had given Mike’s aunt a heart attack – that part wasn’t hard to believe – and then talked to Abby somehow.

          4. Fredbear told Abby that Mike was in danger at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

          5. Abby seemed completely unfazed that a definitely haunted animatronic had broken into her house and was now talking to her.

          What the heck was he supposed to do with this information?

          Ness was on edge as they crossed the parking lot – passing Mike’s car along the way – and entered the pizzeria. It was eerily silent and almost as dark as when he used to break in to hunt for clues, only the arcade lights illuminating the shadows to greet them. Trying desperately to come off as nonchalant, he cleared his throat and nudged Abby. “Did your friend happen to mention where in the pizzeria we should be looking?”

          “No,” Abby said, serious once again. “I’ll ask.” She turned, then looked puzzled. “Where’d he go?”

          Fredbear was gone. Oh boy! The animatronic himself was a ghost now!

          … Actually, that explained a few things. Ness picked his battles and moved on. “Okay. Alright. I’m gonna go scout out the pizzeria, see if I can find your brother. You stay in the dining area in case he shows up there. And be ready to hide if you see or hear anything suspicious, okay?”

          “Okay,” Abby agreed with a nod.

          Ness nodded back, more to gear himself up than to confirm. Just as he turned to head for the kitchen, a spotlight turned on. Then another. And another.

          It was then that he realized the curtains were open. The animatronics stood in their places, expressions cheerful and props in hand, ready to put on a show.

          Oh, perfect. “Uh, hey guys!” Ness called to them, forcing back a wince at the way his voice wobbled and cracked a little. “Mind hanging out with Abby so I can go check something real quick?”

          Hiding was still the safest thing for Abby to do, but now she’d have some big, strong backup just in case. The animatronics would protect her, he was sure.

          The speakers crackled. A piercing whine not dissimilar to the sound of tinnitus rent the air, making both Ness and Abby hiss in pain and cover their ears. Then the painful noise disappeared in a blast of cheerful rock music.

          When you close your eyes and go to sleep

          And it’s down to the sound of a heartbeat

          I can hear the things that you’re dreamin’ about

          When you open up your heart and the truth comes out

          On cue, the animatronics began going through the motions of entertaining, swivelling and tilting and gesturing. Their movements looked more jerky and mechanical than when they’d performed for Ness and Mike the other night, their eyes glowing just a little too bright, but there were half a dozen possible reasons for that, all of them mundane.

          Alright, not what Ness had expected, but it would do. “I’ll be right back,” he told Abby, and trotted off to look for Mike.

🕜

          It was like a dam had burst. Now that Vanessa had given up on hinting, she seemed incapable of holding back information anymore. “In the eighties, when those kids went missing… the police searched Freddy’s, top to bottom. Every inch was accounted for. And they never found them.”

          Her voice wobbled. Her eyes shone with tears, which she visibly kept trying to blink back. Though it was the straightest answer Mike could ask for, he couldn’t help but feel sick at how badly giving it was affecting her.

          Vanessa took a deep breath, then continued. “The man who took them, he was a… he was a very bad man. A-a- very cruel man. Also a very clever man. He knew the parents would cry and the police would come looking, and… he knew there’s one place they’d never think to check, because… why would they? Why would anyone?”

          Something like comprehension began to stir in Mike’s mind. No. No. There was no way she could possibly mean…

          “It’s not just their ghosts that are inside those machines,” Vanessa whispered. “It’s their bodies.”

          The nausea Mike had been feeling spiked. All this time, all this time, he’d been washing and talking to and playing with children’s corpses. He’d dangled Abby, a kid just like them but still alive and unharmed, in front of their noses. And now they’d nearly killed him, just like they must’ve killed… oh God, they must’ve killed the other night guards too.

          “You have to understand,” Vanessa blurted, reading the look on his face with startling ease. “The- the kids, they don’t want to hurt anyone, it’s- it’s him. He… influences them, somehow.”

          She could only mean one person. Whoever had done this in the first place, that was who Mike needed to blame for all the murder. But all that told him was that the kids themselves weren’t responsible for their own actions. “Who, Vanessa?” he said quietly.

          Vanessa was openly crying now, tears rolling soundlessly down her face. She pushed away from the cot and began pacing, arms crossed and hands tucked in like she was trying to make herself smaller. “I tried to warn you. I really did try, in my own way. But it’s too late now, he knows that you’re onto him. He’ll be coming.”

          “You need to tell me who he is,” Mike repeated, keeping his voice as calm and firm as he could. Vanessa was breaking down; he needed to be the grounded one now.

          “His name…” Vanessa said haltingly, “is William Afton.”

          Oh for God’s sake, William! You can’t pin this on him, he’s a child!

          For once, the voice was instantly recognizable. Mom?

          A single drop of blood rolled down Mike’s upper lip and splattered against the cot’s padded surface. It was suddenly difficult to breathe.

          Vanessa didn’t notice, eyes downcast as she pulled a folded Polaroid picture out of her pocket and held it out. When Mike took it, he found himself looking at a yellow animatronic rabbit standing in front of the arch at the pizzeria, one paw on the shoulder of a girl with yellow pigtails who could only have been Vanessa. In her hands was a very familiar toy plane…

          His ears began to ring. He stopped breathing entirely. And as he stared at the plane, he nearly missed Vanessa’s next words.

          “He’s my father.”

Chapter Text

          Mike had never driven a cop car before. Then again, considering he was on his way back to a pizzeria full of mind-controlled killer child corpses in robotic bodies bigger than he was, driving a cop car wasn’t the most exciting new experience he’d had tonight.

          God, why was he going back?

          He knew the answer, of course. If Vanessa’s dad was coming after him, it was better to be found somewhere away from Abby. Even if that somewhere was currently crawling with murderous animatronics.

          At least he wasn’t going in empty-handed. Vanessa had packed a utility belt for him while he pulled his shirt and vest back on. “Electricity is the key,” she’d explained, holding up a cattle prod. “We use these for animal control. And you’ve got a taser too. It won’t do permanent damage but it’ll mess with the animatronics’ circuitry, hopefully buy you some time.”

          What exactly he’d be buying himself time to do remained a mystery. Mike figured he’d be running, hiding, or praying, maybe several at once. “Come with me?” he’d asked, thinking of how he and Ness had kept the animatronics at bay the other night.

          Vanessa had promptly shaken her head and begun backing away like he was going to hurt her. “No. No, I can’t. If he’s there, I…” She bumped into a table and steadied herself against it. Having something to lean against seemed to bolster her, and she managed a mostly steady, “I won’t be any use to you, believe me.”

          She’d been a kid herself when her dad started his body count. Some of his victims could’ve been her friends. And she’d spent all this time covering for him…

          “He really messed you up, didn’t he?” Mike had said gently.

          That had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Vanessa’s face crumpled but she managed to keep her composure long enough to give him the keys to her cruiser before turning away to pretend she wasn’t stifling sobs.

          Mike had awkwardly squeezed her shoulder – it felt important to do that somehow – and left.

          Now he pulled into the abandoned parking lot next to the pizzeria and shut off the engine. Better not to let Afton know his daughter had gone behind his back if possible. He also didn’t want the animatronics realizing he was back just yet.

          Vanessa had mentioned another way into the pizzeria prior to getting him armed and ready to head back in, an outlet vent on the east side of the building that led into a system large enough for Mike to crawl through. While it would still be a tight squeeze, he could travel through them without worrying that the animatronics would follow. Afton, on the other hand…

          Best not to think about getting ambushed.

          As promised, there was just enough room for him. But something was off. There was a shrill ringing, buzzing noise reverberating through the vents, like something was wrong with the speakers.

          And was that… music?

          Mike kept crawling. The music grew louder as he crept deeper and deeper into the pizzeria, until he could clearly make out the lyrics.

          Don’t you know you’re sleepin’ in a spotlight

          And all your dreams that you keep inside

          You’re tellin’ me the secrets that you just can’t hide

          There was a grate up ahead. Beyond it, he could see colourful, strobing lights. Why the hell were the animatronics putting on a concert?

          He crawled up to the grate and practically smushed his face against it, squinting to make out details through all the dust. Yep, that was a concert alright. And Chica was beckoning their lone audience member to join them on stage… shit.

          SHIT!

          What was Abby doing at the pizzeria? Alone, no less! How did she even get here?

          It took two hits from his shoulder for the grate to pop out of its frame. Mike all but launched himself out of the vent, barely remembering to keep low to the ground. He was certain he made eye contact with Bonnie, but the rabbit didn’t leave his spot.

          Chica was now ushering Abby behind the curtain.

          There was nothing down the hall behind the stage except the storage room. Which happened to be where the torture devices and empty springlock suits were kept. Which meant that the animatronics were currently being controlled and Abby had no idea.

          Mike’s heart was in his throat as he approached the stage, crouching as low as he could to keep out of sight. Freddy seemed fully absorbed in putting on his performance, but Bonnie was now looking back and forth between him and Mike and gesturing with increasing vigour in what was definitely an attempt to get Freddy’s attention.

          Suddenly, without warning, Freddy swivelled to stare in his direction.

          Mike dropped to the floor and pressed his back flat against the base of the stage, hardly daring to breathe. Don’t come closer, don’t come closer…

          Agonizing seconds passed. Finally, Freddy resumed his theatrics.

          Mentally gasping in relief, Mike risked poking his head out a little to see where Chica and Abby were. They were still within sight, walking toward the storage room. He had time, just not a lot. And the performing animatronics were in his way.

          He looked around for ideas on how to get past them. A distraction, maybe, or a weapon? His eyes landed on a bucket of mop-water he’d forgotten to clean up, and suddenly he had his answer.

          Leaving the relative safety of his hiding place had his heart pounding in his throat. But he couldn’t empty the bucket onto the stage without standing up. The best that he could hope for was that they didn’t notice him in time.

          Fortunately, the music covered up the sound of water splashing against the wood, and neither animatronic seemed to notice that they were now standing in a shallow puddle. Mike pulled out his borrowed taser, took aim at said puddle, and fired.

          Bolts of electricity sparked over the water’s surface. Both Bonnie and Freddy shuddered and jolted wildly, then tipped over as their limbs locked into place. The music died, though the other noise continued to ring out from the speakers.

          Okay. Path cleared. Mike cast a brief look around for Foxy – nowhere to be found, fuck – and then clambered over the stage and headed for the hall beyond, carefully avoiding both the water and Bonnie’s guitar as it continued to spit acrid-smelling sparks. He reached the storage room just as Abby screamed.

          There was a split second between slamming through the doors and comprehending what he was seeing. Chica had both paws wrapped firmly around Abby’s middle and was lowering her slowly but inexorably into the doll animatronic’s gaping chest.

          “HEY!”

          Chica stopped. Her head turned to shoot a nasty look his way.

          Abby took advantage of her distraction to wriggle out of her hold and duck behind the doll animatronic. Safe. But only as long as Chica wasn’t focused on her.

          “Leave her alone!” Mike ordered, pointing the taser at the animatronic chicken.

          Chica’s eyebrows tilted more aggressively. She took a few steps forward, then froze and toppled over as the taser electrocuted her in the face.

          “Mike!” Abby gasped. She skirted the two animatronics, then ran to throw her arms around her brother.

          Oh God. Oh God. If he’d been just a moment late… Mike hugged her close with one arm and began patting her down desperately with the other, shaking with latent panic. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

          Abby buried her face in his shoulder. She was shaking too, breath hitching in terrified sobs, hands clinging like Mike was the only thing anchoring her to the ground. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” she whimpered. “I don’t know why she was trying to hurt me!”

          “I know.” Mike’s voice cracked. “I know.” He needed to get her out of here. “Abby, listen to me. It’s not safe here. There’s a bad man trying to catch us, and he’s making your friends help him. We need to get you out of here, okay?”

          “What about you?” Abby asked tearfully.

          Mike took a deep breath. “I’m gonna find the bad man and stop him.”

          For a moment, he was terrified she was going to waste time trying to argue. Then Abby nodded slowly. “We need to find Ness first.”

          Oh for- “Ness is here too?”

          “He’s helping me look for you,” Abby explained. “The yellow bear said you were in trouble.”

          “Yellow- Nope, tell me later.” Pulling out the cattle prod since the taser was out of charges, Mike grabbed her hand and led the way out of the storage room at the fastest pace they could manage. “Got any idea where he is right now?”

          Abby didn’t have time to answer. Her hand was torn from Mike’s grasp as something clamped down on his leg hard enough to jerk him off his feet.

          The cattle prod clattered to the ground several feet away.

          “MIKE!” Abby shrieked.

          Mr. Cupcake snarled. The buzzsaws in his mouth were having trouble starting up, likely because they were blocked by the meat of Mike’s calf. But they were still solid and wickedly sharp.

          It took everything Mike had not to simply start screaming in agony. “Run, hide!” he yelled instead, frantically trying to kick the animatronic off. “Abby, go!”

          For once, Abby listened. She hesitated for a split second, then turned and ran down the hall as fast as she could.

          The relief was momentary. Mr. Cupcake was still doing a thorough job of gnawing through flesh and muscle until he hit bone.

          There wasn’t an audience to put on a brave face for. Mike screamed.

          He had to get to the cattle prod. It was the only thing that would stop this damned cupcake. If only… he could reach… it…

          “GET OFF HIM!”

          A sneaker-clad foot slammed into Mr. Cupcake, right where his nose would’ve been if he’d had one. Seemingly stunned, Mr. Cupcake’s mouth opened just enough to release Mike’s leg. A second kick sent him flying into the opposite wall.

          Mike didn’t waste time sighing in relief. He scrambled for the cattle prod and swung it with all his strength, at the same time that Mr. Cupcake took a flying leap at him.

          The cupcake’s mouth clamped shut around the cattle prod. Sparks flew and the whirling blades ground to a halt. Then both cupcake and cattle prod hit the floor as the handle slipped from Mike’s sweaty hand.

          “What,” said Ness breathlessly and succinctly, “the fuck is going on?”

          Mike gratefully accepted the hand up that was offered to him, half-successfully biting back a pained yelp when he tried to put weight on his mauled leg. “They’re being controlled,” he panted once the black spots had mostly faded from his vision. “By the guy that killed them. He’s hunting us.”

          “Oh good, you figured it out too,” Ness remarked. Then, “I’m sorry, who’s doing what?”

          “Where were you?” Mike asked instead of repeating what he’d said.

          Ness looped an arm around him and helped him limp down the hall in the direction Abby had gone, stopping only to scoop up the cattle prod. “In the security office. I tried to get out once I realized something was wrong, but the door wouldn’t open. I had to crawl through a vent to get here.” He paused very briefly. “Actually, I think maybe Fredbear used his ghost powers to lock me in. To protect me, probably?”

          “Worry about that later.”

          “Right, sorry.” Ness adjusted his grip a little and they kept moving.

🕑

          Abby was trying very hard not to cry as she raced into the dining area and looked around for a good place to hide. Mike’s screams echoed in her ears like a second pulse – she carefully didn’t think about what it meant that he’d stopped – and every time she blinked, she saw blood spraying from Mr. Cupcake’s mouth as he bit down.

          The dining area was too open. If she tried to hide here, she’d be spotted immediately. The arcade on the other hand…

          She felt eyes on her as she scrambled up the steps to the alcove housing all the games. Bonnie and Freddy were still lying motionless on their stage, Chica was still in the storage room, and Mr. Cupcake was… not here. That left only one animatronic.

          Foxy emerged from behind his curtain like a wrathful ghost, eye glowing and teeth bared in a grimace. He didn’t hum. He didn’t run. Instead, every step was slow and purposeful.

          Hunting.

          Peeking out from behind the arcade game she’d chosen as her hiding place, Abby was startled to discover he’d gotten a lot closer than she’d realized. She backed away instinctively, right into another game. Her elbow jostled a button and the game came alive in a glitzy burst of lights and sounds.

          Foxy’s attention snapped to it immediately.

          He approached at the same deliberate pace, games activating in his wake. His head turned from side to side, appraising the shadows between each one.

          He’s gonna find me!

          The thought was galvanizing. Abby shrugged off her backpack, waited until Foxy was looking the other way, and hurled it as far into the dining area as she could. She must’ve hit something; there was a clatter and Foxy whirled to stare in the direction of the noise.

          When he turned back to peer into the shadow where she’d been a moment before, she was already burrowing beneath the surface of the ball pit.

          But that made noise too. A moment later, Abby heard Foxy change course. Her trick hadn’t done much to delay him.

          A plastic ball crumpled beneath one metal foot. The glow of his eye seemed doubly bright when he leaned over to peer into the pit.

          Abby squeezed her eyes shut tight. Don’t see me, don’t see me, don’t see me-

          There was a prolonged zap. A hand closed around Abby’s upper arm and yanked her up and out of the pit…

          … and into Vanessa’s waiting arms. Behind her, Foxy lay stiff and motionless on the floor.

          “Vanessa!”

          “It’s okay,” Vanessa said comfortingly. She clasped Abby’s shoulders, expression serious. “I need to get you somewhere safe so I can go help your brother, okay?”

          Abby nodded, then craned her neck to look for Mike. She wasn’t expecting to see him limping into the dining room, supported by Ness, but the sight made her beam. “Look!”

          Vanessa’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, thank God.”

          At that very moment, the ground began to shake rhythmically. The accompanying thuds sounded almost like animatronic feet stomping across the floor, but even heavier.

          Twin motes of silver light appeared in the dark beyond the arch. Then the creature took a lumbering step into the relative light, and the motes became mechanical eyes.

          The yellow rabbit had arrived.

Chapter Text

          For a moment, the pizzeria was silent as everyone stared in mute horror.

          The newcomer looked like an animatronic, just… off. It was a rabbit, but the proportions of its face bore few similarities to Bonnie’s. Its soft yellow cover was rotted away in places. Its gait was ungainly but more fluid than the other animatronics’, and it shifted in place like a human might. The most intact part of it was its large purple bow tie.

          “Hello,” said the yellow rabbit.

          That voice. That colour. Mike tried to back away and found his limbs were locked in place. Something about the yellow rabbit radiated a wrongness so profound it had him petrified.

          Ness, however, was unaffected. “LEAVE US ALONE!” he yelled, brandishing the cattle prod.

          The yellow rabbit cocked its head, then batted the weapon away. Though it clearly hadn’t put much effort behind the motion, the impact knocked the cattle prod out of Ness’s hand with enough force to make the waiter cry out in pain.

          Before either of them could react, the rabbit took two quick steps forward, clamped a hand around Ness’s neck, and tossed him aside as easily as it had the cattle prod. Then it turned on Mike.

          “Here we are again,” it announced in an almost conversational tone, kicking Mike’s good leg out from under him. “You just can’t help yourself, can you, Mike?”

          Mike hit the ground hard and lay there, gasping for breath. His leg felt like it was on fire. His shirt was warm and sticky where he’d bled through the bandages.

          He had to move. He had to get away.

          Rising to his hands and knees was a new kind of torture. He managed to crawl a couple of feet before the yellow rabbit closed the gap again, circling him like a vulture appraising its next meal. “Not that you remember, obviously. But old habits die hard, eh?” It laughed mockingly. “Lucky me.”

          The yellow bear flickered before Mike’s eyes. Fredbear… and Spring Bonnie. Endosuits. There was a person in there. It wasn’t hard to guess who. But why did his voice sound so painfully familiar?

          “First you killed your brother,” William Afton went on, “so I killed the replacement. And now I kill you. Symmetry, my boy!”

          You killed him!

          “Wh- what?” Mike stammered. He’d only ever had one brother, how could he have-

          Afton produced a knife from somewhere and gestured airily with it. “Stuck? Let me jog your memory.” He lifted a foot and delicately lowered it onto Mike’s injured leg, just lightly enough to pin it in place without eliciting a scream. “1983. Fredbear’s Family Diner. You, my little pain in the ass, were a bad babysitter and decided to make your baby brother shut up by sticking his head in Fredbear’s mouth.”

          He won’t stop crying.

          Mike’s head throbbed. “We… we never went to Fredbear’s.”

          The murderer’s head tilted in mock sympathy. “Those meds really did a number on your brain, huh? Poor, poor Mikey. We used to have such fun at the ole Family Diner.”

          Tell you what, Mikey. Why don’t you take him to go see Fredbear, see if that makes him feel better? Make sure he gets a good view, now. Off you go.

          No. NO! None of this made sense!

          “I didn’t just abandon you after the funeral, you know.” Afton applied a little more pressure. “So many nightmares! No wonder you got put on the heavy stuff. Lemme tell you, when I tried the whole murder business out myself, I slept like a baby.”

          Look, Evan! Fredbear wants to say hi! Wanna give him a big kiss? Here, I’ll help you. One, two, three…

          CRUNCH

          “But I guess guilt just hits harder when you’re eight.” Without warning, Afton ground his foot into Mike’s leg. The resulting agony had Mike screaming until he raised his foot again. “And to think your mother blamed me for the whole incident! What would she say if she knew you came right back on home to papa for round three?”

          Mike couldn’t think. Couldn’t see through the spots and the static and the ghost of Fredbear and the pain. Blood trickled into his mouth and he choked on it.

          “I- I don’t-”

          “Shut up,” Afton said congenially, kicking him in the ribs. While Mike wheezed helplessly, he spread his arms and turned in a circle. “Wake up, children! I have something for you to play with!”

          On cue, the light returned to the animatronics’ eyes. Limbs twitched and joints clicked as Bonnie, Freddy, and Foxy rose to their feet and Chica and Mr. Cupcake emerged from the back.

          “This is gonna be so much fun,” Afton went on. “I was gonna let you live long enough to watch your sister join the little ones, but honestly, I’d rather kill you myself.” He raised the knife. “Farewell, Michael Afton."

          “THAT’S ENOUGH!”

          Mike somehow found the wherewithal to raise his head and look, though his vision was so distorted he could just barely make out the blurry silhouette of Vanessa standing in front of the arcade, a gun aimed unerringly at her father’s chest.

          “Drop the knife,” she said, low and firm and dangerous.

          Afton laughed and spread his hands as if this were a perfectly normal, jocular conversation. “A little old for temper tantrums, aren’t we, Vanessa?”

          Vanessa didn’t waver. “I’m not kidding, Dad.”

          It wasn’t his fault! Daddy said to show him Fredbear. I heard!

          A sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan clawed its way out of Mike’s throat. His eyes slipped shut, then popped open again as Abby dashed over to him, dropped to her knees, and protectively curled around him as best she could. He leaned into her warmth, pathetically grateful for the confirmation that she was okay at least in this moment.

          Fortunately for both of them, Afton was too preoccupied to pay them any mind. Sighing, he reached up and removed the Spring Bonnie head, tossing it to the ground and revealing his face.

          Steve Raglan? Mike thought hazily, and also William Afton and Dad.

          Without the head on, Afton- Dad- Afton sounded so normal it was almost physically painful. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time you stood up for your brother?” he asked mildly, waggling the knife at Vanessa. “What you had to do for penance after the divorce?”

          The animatronics shifted.

          Afton’s face twisted into a sneer. “Now put that thing away and help me clean up the mess that you created!” His voice rose nearly to a shout as he spoke, advancing on Vanessa. Then it dropped back down to a taunting, nearly rational tone. “Come on. We both know you’re not gonna use a-”

          Vanessa fired.

          The bullet glanced off the edge of Spring Bonnie’s bow tie and was redirected into Afton’s shoulder. He grunted in pain, one hand coming up to clutch at the wound.

          The animatronics’ abnormally bright eyes dimmed a little before the intensified glow flickered back into place.

          Vanessa’s breathing went shallow and hurried. Even from his position on the floor, Mike could see that she was fighting tears again. She looked terrified.

          His vision was beginning to clear. That was good. If only that godawful noise would go away…

          The yellow rabbit. He… controls them.

          The noise. It had been playing overhead the entire time the animatronics were trying to kill him and Abby. That was what was controlling them.

          If he could just figure out how to turn it off…

          “Abby,” he croaked. “The drawings.”

          Abby followed his gaze to the wall of drawings, her eyes naturally gravitating to the biggest, most prominent one. Four children matching the ones in all of her art, all smiling cheerfully as they held hands with the man-sized yellow rabbit in the centre of the page.

          The drawing itself wouldn’t do much as a diversion. But if Afton thought it was important…

          “The yellow rabbit… hurt your friends.” It was so hard to speak and breathe at the same time. His ribs protested even the slightest hint of motion. “Show them… what really happened.”

          It was unclear if Abby understood where he was going with this. She nodded and crawled over to where her backpack lay, but Mike’s attention was quickly drawn away by the sound of Afton shouting wordlessly and charging Vanessa.

          The scuffle was brief. He knocked the gun out of his daughter’s hand with one swing, then herded her backward until she was pressed against an arcade game, his knife waving in her face as he ranted. “You had one job, one! Keep him in the dark and kill him if he got too close!”

          Vanessa glared up at her father, her fear momentarily replaced by defiance. “That’s two jobs,” she said steadily.

          Afton’s hand promptly closed around her throat and lifted.

          A moment later, he dropped her as Ness tackled him. The waiter had removed his apron at some point and now wrapped it tightly around the murderer’s head, yanking back as hard as he could while clinging to Afton’s back like a koala. Afton flailed with the knife but there was no way to reach that far behind him while still in the Spring Bonnie suit.

          Meanwhile, Abby had torn a poster off the wall and flipped it over to draw on the back. She was pretty sure she knew what Mike needed her to do: the picture on the wall made her friends do what the yellow rabbit told them because it made them think he was their friend. It was her job to show them the truth.

          She glanced back to find that Mike had climbed to his feet and was limping toward the security office as fast as he could, leaning heavily against the wall for balance. Whatever he was doing, it had to be important too.

          Almost… done… There! Finished!

          Abby dropped the yellow marker and ran toward the picture wall, cutting across the dining area to save time. Her path caught Afton’s attention just as he shook Ness and the apron off and shoved Vanessa against the arcade game again.

          He started toward her, only to be halted by Vanessa’s hands grabbing his wrist and yanking him away with an enraged shriek.

          “LET GO!”

          Vanessa squeezed harder. “I won’t let you hurt her too,” she panted.

          Afton stared at her blankly for half a second. Then he pulled her forward into the blade of his knife.

          Or at least he started to. The knife penetrated maybe an inch before the Spring Bonnie head scored a bullseye just above his ear.

          The impact knocked Afton back a step, though it was clearly more out of surprise than momentum. He whirled to find Ness staring at him with wild eyes, arm still extended from the throw. “Pick on someone your own size, bitch!”

          Beyond him, Abby had ripped the original drawing off the wall and was scrabbling to recover the thumbtacks that had held it there so she could pin up the new one.

          Clear indecision marked Afton’s face. He took a few purposeful steps toward Ness, then switched directions to go after Abby, then pivoted again to take a swing at the waiter. Ness’s attempt to dodge came too late and he was sent flying as the springlock suit’s fist caught him in the chest. He didn’t get back up.

          If the killer felt any sense of accomplishment from taking out one of his main obstacles, it was quickly stomped out by the sound of Abby triumphantly stabbing a thumbtack through her drawing and into the wall. He whirled to find her glaring at him, feet planted and eyes ablaze.

          Every light and speaker in the pizzeria abruptly shut down. The only light remaining emanated from the animatronics’ eyes; within moments, that too dimmed.

          Afton looked around in growing horror. “What have you done?” he whispered.

          A faint hum filled the air as the power turned back on. A single spotlight illuminated Abby’s drawing, revealing a yellow rabbit with an evil sneer on its face and a bloody knife in its paw standing over the bodies of four children.

          In the security office, Mike leaned a little heavier against the wall to catch his breath. Then he let go of the breaker switch and began the process of hobbling back to the dining area at full speed.

          “They can see you now,” Abby was saying when he entered. “They know what you did.”

          One of Afton’s hands came up to fiddle nervously with his bow tie. The approaching animatronics halted in their tracks.

          Ness, weakly propping himself up on his hands, gasped. “The bow tie,” he called out, voice wrecked. “Shoot the bow tie!”

          Several things happened in rapid succession. Afton whirled to face him. A single shot rang out. And as the purple bow tie blew apart in a gout of sparks and smoke, the animatronics resumed their slow, deliberate approach.

          Her job done, Vanessa dropped the gun and collapsed back against the nearest arcade game, a hand clamped over her stomach to staunch the bleeding.

          More spotlights lit up now, though there was nobody to turn them on. Each one shone mercilessly down on Afton, ensuring he was the centre of attention.

          it’s me, came the ghostly whisper in Mike’s ear.

          “Thank you,” he whispered back. The sound of the animatronics closing in on their killer drowned out his voice, but maybe that was for the best.

          Afton had a hand up to shield his eyes from the light. His face was twisted in fury, hatred, and the faintest trace of desperation. “Look at you,” he spat, turning in a circle in a fruitless attempt to keep all four animatronics in sight. “Look at the nasty things that you have become!”

          The animatronics continued to advance. Overhead, the speakers popped and crackled, fluctuating static replacing the sound that had compelled them to kill.

          When the static spiked, it almost sounded like children screaming.

          “Look how broken you are, how worthless you are!” Afton was shouting now. Flecks of spittle flew from his mouth with every desperate, venomous word. “You are wretched, rotten little beasts!” He thumped his chest hard enough that the mechanisms inside groaned. “I MADE YOU!”

          Everything fell silent. Foxy, Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy stopped, mere feet away from the man behind the slaughter. The lights flickered again.

          Then there was a blur of pink as Mr. Cupcake launched himself off Chica’s platter.

          The cupcake slammed into Afton’s stomach with the force of a charging bull, buzzsaws already whirring at top speed. Bits of casing and yellow felt flew.

          On his own, Mr. Cupcake probably wouldn’t have been able to gnaw all the way into the Spring Bonnie suit before Afton pried him off and threw him away. But while Spring Bonnie had withstood everything thrown at it tonight without issue, it was still a springlock suit.

          And everyone knew springlocks were unstable.

          The first springlock snapped shut moments after Afton had hurled Mr. Cupcake away. There was a click and a crunch, and Afton screamed.

          He remained on his feet, though. As a second springlock followed the first, and another, he staggered, clutched at his middle as if he could hold the suit together, doubled over – but did not fall.

          It took a fourth springlock giving way for him to drop to one knee. The fifth and sixth had him kneeling, his breaths coming quick and fast, tears of agony streaming down his face, and now everyone could see the blood leaking through the holes in the suit.

          Nobody moved to stop him as he fumbled for the discarded Spring Bonnie head lying just within reach. He was dying; there was no threat to his actions.

          Afton lifted the head with shaking arms and held it aloft, teeth bared in a bloody grin. “I always come back,” he gasped, eyes feverishly bright, and lowered it into place.

          The suit’s eyes lit up. Then the last of the springlocks went off and they began flickering wildly as Afton collapsed onto his side, in time with his violent spasming.

          At that moment, Bonnie’s guitar, which had continued to spark from where it lay in the puddle onstage, finally blew. The explosion was fairly small, but the blast radius covered enough dry floorboards and curtain to ignite both. Within moments, the entire stage was ablaze.

          They had to get out of here.

          “ABBY!” Mike pushed away from the wall, intending to limp to his sister. But his mangled leg could no longer take his weight and he would’ve fallen had Foxy not hurried over to provide support. With the fox’s help, he hobbled past the dying murderer and made a beeline for Abby, who’d pressed herself against the picture wall in horror when the springlocks began going off.

          She met him halfway. “MIKE!”

          They clung to each other, he with one arm awkwardly draped around Foxy and she unharmed but shaking all the same. It hurt. A lot. But Mike couldn’t bring himself to care.

          Their reunion had to be cut short. The fire was still spreading, and all of them needed medical attention. Mike reluctantly let go of Abby and looked around, trying to assess the situation.

          The other animatronics had abandoned Afton on the floor and gone to help the remaining humans. Vanessa was cradled in Bonnie’s arms while Chica held a wadded-up tablecloth to her stab wound. Meanwhile, Freddy had helped Ness to his feet but then paused, paws gently clasping Ness’s shoulders like he was scared to let go.

          The sound of Ness’s breath hitching was audible even over the flames. “Gabe?” he said softly, voice breaking.

          A music box began playing, slow and sad. Freddy’s head tilted. His eyes closed in a long blink before opening again and staring down at the one person who’d never stopped looking for him. Then he carefully, gently pulled his brother in for a hug.

          Ness burst into tears and hugged him back.

          “Ohhh,” whispered Abby, still clutching Mike’s arm. “That’s why they look alike.”

          Well, they both were tall and brunet?

          Wait, no, she meant the ghost thing.

          “We gotta go,” Mike rasped.

          He hadn’t spoken loudly, but the animatronics all turned to look at him. Then, in near-perfect unison, they all turned and began the painfully slow trek to the front door.

          There wasn’t time to worry about finding Mike’s keys. Chica rammed her fists into the glass door until it shattered while the other animatronics shielded the humans from any stray shards. Once the frame was clear of glass, Abby climbed through and helped first Ness, then Vanessa follow suit.

          Mike hesitated as she reached for his hand. None of the animatronics had made a move to cross the threshold themselves. They can’t. Something’s keeping them in the pizzeria.

          “Wait-”

          A large paw settled against his back. Another rested on his shoulder, a third lightly grasped his upper arm, and a fourth ruffled his hair. It was, Mike realized in a painful blend of fondness and anguish, the best approximation of a hug the children could give without hurting him more.

          His vision blurred. He’d known them for barely a week – they’d spent most of tonight trying to kill him – but they were just kids, his kids. They deserved so much better than this.

          “How do I help you?” The words came out quiet and half-choked.

          You already did, whispered Fredbear. They’re free.

          Mike looked around at the animatronics’ faces. They gazed back, eyes bright and expressions serene. Mr. Cupcake made a sound comparable to a demonic cat purring.

          “Okay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

          He couldn’t really hug any of them back, but he tried anyway. Then, finally, he let himself be helped through the door. As Abby and Ness steadied him, he could swear a chorus of ghostly voices whispered, thank you.

          And Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, and Freddy turned and walked back into the depths of the burning pizzeria.

Chapter Text

          “An update on the electrical fire that demolished Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria early Tuesday morning of last week. As previously stated, four survivors were found in the parking lot around three o’clock and taken to hospital with serious injuries. Today the Hurricane Police released a statement acknowledging that said injuries were unrelated to the fire itself. According to hospital staff, they found signs that the survivors had been physically assaulted, with one suffering a severely bruised windpipe and the other two deep lacerations and an abdominal stab wound. The fourth survivor was unharmed.

          The survivors in question have been identified as Michael and Abigail Schmidt, the pizzeria’s former night guard and his sister; Nestor Fitzgerald, Schmidt’s babysitter; and HPD Officer Vanessa Shelly. When questioned on why they were at the pizzeria, Fitzgerald and Shelly claimed they and Abigail had gone to visit Schmidt and were leaving when they were approached by an unidentified man wearing an animatronic suit. The man allegedly attacked Schmidt and Shelly with a knife and attempted to strangle Fitzgerald before the building caught fire, giving the victims time to flee to the parking lot. Schmidt confirmed the claim.

          Chief Clay Burke of the Hurricane Police Department says human remains have since been found among the debris, and investigations are underway to determine whether they belong to the suspect-”

          “Ugh,” said Vanessa with feeling, and turned the TV off.

          Mike nodded his agreement from the kitchen table, where he was letting Abby paint his nails. It only made sense that their heavily altered cover story had caught people’s attention, especially since it didn’t cover why Mike’s leg looked like he’d been chewed on by heavy machinery, but that didn’t make the reminder any less uncomfortable.

          Fortunately, they hadn’t had to stay at the hospital too long. A day after their release, Vanessa had moved from her rented apartment to the Schmidt household both to better afford the hospital bills and to ensure both she and Mike had another adult present in case something went wrong during the recovery process.

          They gladly would’ve let Ness join them, but he’d refused on the grounds that his roommate would suffice and they didn’t have the room for him anyway. He made up for it by visiting whenever he wasn’t at work – because a swollen throat, minor concussion, and ghastly bruising weren’t enough to keep him from clocking in.

          On occasion, Mike wondered if the four of them were developing separation anxiety, or maybe a codependency. That wasn’t particularly concerning, though. He figured they’d been through enough together that it was justified.

          Right on cue, Ness waltzed in the door, arms laden with bags of takeout from Sparky’s Diner. “I bring dinner,” he sang.

          His voice had been all but gone for almost a week after getting tossed around by the throat. It was mostly back now, but he still sounded strained. (The fact that Ness was a compulsive chatterbox had not helped the healing process in the slightest.)

          Abby perked up and ran to hug him while Mike and Vanessa exchanged an exasperated look. “Did you get curly fries?”

          Ness gasped and put a hand to his chest, nearly dropped a bag. “Did I get curly fries? Oh, Abby, you know I got curly fries! How dare you suggest I’d ever let you down like that?”

          “Shut up before your windpipe gives out, Nestor,” Vanessa called.

          The ensuing sputtering from Ness had Abby giggling. Mike drummed his fingers on the table and admired the cheerful green paint drying on his nails. “You should paint Ness’s fingernails next.”

          “Ooh, do we have blue?”

          “Do we?” Abby asked, looking over at Vanessa. It was, after all, her nail polish. Since she’d officially joined the family, her belongings had gotten mixed in with the hodgepodge of stuff that encompassed Mike’s things, Abby’s things, and their shared things.

          The family. Because Vanessa was biologically more Mike’s sister than Abby was. She’d given him a very brief explanation back at the hospital, but that was it.

          “How did we get here?” Mike blurted. Three pairs of eyes focused on him curiously and he fought that old urge to hunch in on himself. “I- I mean, with the whole… Afton/Shelly/Schmidt thing, and the…” He gestured vaguely, hoping that was good enough to indicate everything that had led to them being here now.

          Vanessa sat a little straighter. “I can give you the full story now,” she said slowly. “If you want. Dad told me a lot of it over the years.”

          Dad. It was a fraught word nowadays.

          “I’ll give you some privacy,” Ness started, but Mike and Vanessa both shook their heads and Abby tugged on his arm before he could head for the door.

          “You should probably hear this too,” said Vanessa. “And Mike needs help getting to the living room.”

          Mike grumbled wordlessly at her but allowed Ness to help him hobble to his armchair without further complaint. Once they were all settled, Ness perched on the coffee table and Abby joining Vanessa on the couch, Vanessa cleared her throat and began.

          “This is kinda embarrassing, but I didn’t actually realize you were my older brother until Dad brought up what happened to Evan. I mean, you look a lot like Dad did when he was our age, I’ve seen the pictures, but I never put the pieces together because there’s gotta be hundreds of brown-haired, brown-eyed guys named Mike out there, right?”

          Mike nodded. There was a reason he never stood out in a crowd.

          “I remember the day everything fell apart,” Vanessa went on. “It was Evan’s birthday and Dad decided we’d celebrate by going to the diner. I’m pretty sure we actually went because he had business he needed to see to. Anyway, Evan was crying because the animatronics scared him and you went to tell Dad. And he said you should bring Evan right up to Fredbear to say hi, because I guess he thought that would get him to stop.”

          Now Vanessa hesitated. “He blamed you, afterward,” she said thickly. “He said horrible things to you, and he tried to convince Mom it was all your idea, all your fault. And I told them I heard him tell you to do it.”

          Most of that sounded familiar. Mike had had more than a few nightmares of being verbally flayed for the blood on his hands since the fire. Now that he knew whose voice it was, those nightmares held no mystery.

          “Our parents were furious.” Vanessa’s gaze was distant. “Mom was mad at Dad for pinning the blame on you, and Dad was mad at me for snitching. It got worse when you started having nightmares so bad, Mom took you to see a doctor and they gave you medication to help you sleep. Dad hated that the pills made your memory unreliable and tried to make you stop taking them. When Mom found out, she filed for divorce.”

          “I switched prescriptions sometime before Garrett disappeared,” Mike mumbled, the memory resurfacing as though prompted. “The one I was on got recalled because of the side effects.”

          “Probably,” Vanessa agreed. “You were spacey as hell on those pills. Half the time, you called me Elizabeth because I said I wanted to switch my first and middle names and you forgot it was a joke.”

          “EVA,” murmured Ness. When the others blinked at him, he shrugged sheepishly. “The initials. Carry on. Your parents got divorced…?”

          Vanessa smiled bleakly. “It took awhile, but they did. Dad somehow got custody over me, and Mom took Mike and left. Not long after that, the diner closed down and Dad started Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. We did a lot of travelling once the first pizzeria was established, starting up new branches all over the place. It didn’t take long for me to figure out he was looking for you guys.”

          “And then he found us in Nebraska?” Mike ventured.

          “You guessed it,” said Vanessa, snapping her fingers and pointing at him. “He only told me this afterward, but he didn’t like that Mom found a new guy who already had a son, like she was replacing us. Kidnapping and killing Garrett was supposed to punish her too, not just you. He would’ve killed you next, but you moved again and he couldn’t find you after that.”

          “Wait,” Ness exclaimed. “If he was so busy hunting down the Schmidts, when did he have time for the other murders? Assuming the other disappearances revolving around the Fazbear franchise were his doing, that’s a lot of murder for one guy to get up to on his own, especially with all that travelling and business-venturing and-”

          “Nestor.”

          “Stop calling me that when you want me to stop doing stuff!”

          Vanessa raised her eyebrows and stared at him. Ness mimed zipping his lips and gestured for her to continue.

          “I don’t know how or if he was responsible for everyone that went missing. Sometimes he made me clean things that in hindsight were definitely not used for legal purposes, but he only really got me involved when we’d settled down here in Hurricane and I’d started making friends.” She sighed. “And now here we are.”

          Silence fell as everyone digested what she’d said. Then Abby scooted closer and hugged her. After a very brief moment of hesitation, Mike left his chair and joined the hug. And because Ness was Ness, he sniffled loudly and grossly and then flung his arms around all of them.

          They stayed that way for a long time before Mike remembered their troubles weren’t over yet and groaned. “I still don’t know what I’m gonna do about Aunt Jane.”

          “Aunt Jane?” Vanessa echoed in confusion.

          Mike made a disgusted face, unaware that Abby was making the exact same one. “Abby’s dad’s sister. She’s been trying to take over as Abby’s legal guardian since Mom died and Dad bailed.”

          “She doesn’t actually like me,” Abby piped up. “She just wants money from the government. I heard her talking about it on the phone.”

          “Incidentally,” Ness added, “she’s the lady I mentioned when I tipped you off about the vandals.” He turned his head – something of an awkward venture considering they were all squished into a lump on the couch – and beamed at Mike. “Don’t worry, though! Something tells me she’s not gonna be your problem much longer.”

          “Is it because she was sleeping on the floor?” Abby asked.

          This was met with the confusion it rightly deserved. The confusion was cleared when Ness had a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like “heart attack”. “She’s fine though,” he said once he’d recovered. “Probably mad as heck that she got saddled with the hospital bill, but last I heard, she’s lively as ever. I did have to pretend I was you over the phone, by the way. Sorry ’bout that.”

          “I’ll live,” said Mike. Then, “Shit.”

          “Mike!” Vanessa scolded, covering Abby’s ears.

          Mike ignored the reprimand. Abby had heard worse. “My nails are still wet.”

⏰

          “Well, that was time and effort well spent,” said Ness brightly. “I propose a toast. To Doug!”

          There were amused eye-rolls all around, but everyone gamely raised their post-court ice cream and echoed, “To Doug.”

          Doug looked close to tears.

          Despite having only ever seen the man trailing along behind Aunt Jane like a kicked dog, Mike had to agree that he’d been a huge help. On its own, Ness’s testimony probably wouldn’t have been enough. But at the last minute, Doug had turned on his client and confirmed that Jane Schmidt had hired people to ruin her nephew’s life in any way possible – including spying on him, going through his possessions, and breaking into his workplace and vandalizing it so he’d get fired – all so he’d lose custody of Abby. She’d been charged with conspiracy and harassment, slapped with a restraining order, and permanently removed from the custody battle.

          Doug himself was facing charges for aiding and abetting, but as he’d come forward on his own, he was probably going to see some leniency.

          They definitely owed him some gratitude.

          “A second toast,” Vanessa suggested. “To never seeing Aunt Jane again?”

          “Hear, hear,” Mike agreed emphatically. Everyone held up their ice cream again and then dug in because it was a surprisingly warm day for mid-March and their treats were starting to melt.

          All in all, a pleasant end to an ultimately great day. Mike reflected on that as they drove home, Vanessa and Abby hashing out a dinner plan along the way. Things had been going a lot better in general, though not without a few hitches.

          The nightmares, for one. They were frequent and intense, and it was becoming depressingly normal for midnight talks and phone calls to occur. All four of them were in therapy, though they obviously couldn’t explain the true depth of their trauma.

          For another, money was still tight. Mike had looked into getting a job in construction, but between his record and his bad leg, every company he’d approached had been hesitant to take him on.

          Ness had come to the rescue again with a temporary solution: working as a janitor at Sparky’s Diner. The owner was apparently his uncle, and while he was openly hesitant upon seeing Mike’s resume, he’d caved when both Ness and Vanessa vouched for him. It was still a probationary job, and Mike wasn’t sure he wanted to stay for long anyway. At the very least, having a normal, uneventful job with no incidents would help with finding others in the future.

          It was a start.

          In the here and now, Abby decided on spaghetti and meatballs just as they pulled into the driveway. She led the way into the house, chattering about what she wanted to do after supper as she went, and Vanessa looked back to grin at Mike, and he was about to grin back when his vision went spotty.

          He must’ve stumbled. When he came back to himself, Vanessa was steadying him and Abby had her head cocked, a knowing light already glowing in her eyes.

          “You okay?” Vanessa asked.

          Mike nodded slowly and wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve before it could set off a flashback. “Yeah,” he mumbled, limping over to his armchair and flopping into it. “Uh, Evan says hi.”

          The ghost of Fredbear, more specifically the boy who’d died in Fredbear’s jaws, had made a habit of visiting every now and then. He couldn’t show up physically anymore, but that hadn’t stopped him from occasionally popping up. According to Abby, she could still see and hear his human form but he was a lot less three-dimensional and his voice was hard to catch sometimes. It was easier for him to appear to Mike for some reason, possibly because of his involvement in Evan’s death.

          “There’s, uh, there’s more,” Mike added, blinking rapidly.

          Vanessa and Abby exchanged glances, then looked to him expectantly. “Go on,” said Abby eagerly.

          Mike hesitated. Then he said haltingly, “Evan found another Freddy’s. And… and more ghosts in the animatronics.”

          “The closest Freddy’s I can think of is nowhere near here,” Vanessa pointed out. “How’d he find any of this out?”

          This was the part that had Mike off-balance. Maybe it shouldn’t shock him after everything he’d seen the missing kids do without physical bodies, but something about this whole situation had his skin prickling with goosebumps.

          “Something called to him.”