Five Nights at Freddy's one-shots

*GORY DESCRIPTIONS*

Michael grinned, he looked manic in the wildly flickering light. His skin was a sickly green from the way the LED's bounced off of the green tiled walls. His eyes seemed sunken, his hair was long and disheveled and his clothes were stained beyond saving. Scott stared at him from the other side of the hallway, terror had stricken him completely still. His breathing was sporadic with fear.

It didn't help that Michael had never liked him, even when he was a toddler. Charlie had taken a favoritism to him, but Michael always had had some sort of vendetta against him. And here he was now, a grown man with a gas container in one hand, a silver zippo in the other, and the most horrific expression Scott had ever seen on another man.

"Michael..." Saying his name felt wrong. It felt like a taboo, as if he shouldn't be able to say it. In fact, he was certain the last time he had said Michael's name was when he fired him and banned him from the restaurant. It ended up in a nasty fight, not physical, but still enough to leave scars on what little relationship they may have had with each other. He cringed, this was the son of his one love.

"Don't." The definity in his tone was shocking. The tone was cold and broken. Scott swallowed hard, he still couldn't move as he stared at Michael. It was striking how similar he was to his father, Scott realized, the more he stared. "Don't even try. I will not hear you. I will not care. Your voice drives a knife into my soul and I will not have it. Do not ruin this for me, Mr. Callahan. Don't even try."

"Please, just let me-" cut off again. His efforts were landing fruitless upon ears that would not listen.

"Let you what? Apologize? Oh..." Michael had to stop, his laughter bubbled up causing tremors into Scott's hands. He felt nauseous, the lights were too bright and his head was swimming. His stomach churned in painful, sharp jabs. "Oh, no. It's much to late for that! You will go out the same way my father will." Michael lowered his head, it was a jerky motion and he seemed to move in a robotic tick. His eyes never left Scott's. A soft splashing reverberated off the walls of the hallway. Scott broke the eye contact, jolted from his fear by this new sound. Gasoline was being poured onto the floor, droplets scattered like amber rain, seeming to fall in slow motion.

Scott moved his legs, he backed up. He wanted to run but every scenario rushed through his head. As a child is afraid of the dark, afraid to turn it's back on whatever lurks behind it, Scott was afraid to let Michael out of his sight. The splashing stopped and Michael was looking back up at him. Scott knew the shine in his eyes. The light he had seen only once in his Afton. Insanity. Pure lack of self-preservation. The crazed desire to wreak havoc upon the very ground he stood even if he were to go down with it.

The kid that Scott remember was gone. The kid who would flick him off but go no further.

"Bit by bit, everything that I was, was taken from me. By you, by my father, and now? Now it's time for me to take from you. To take everything you are, piece by unworthy, cowardly piece." Michael growled, he sounded feral, inhuman. "I have lost what I can even say considered me a man." More wheezing laughter. There was a gurgle to it.

Michael set the gas canister down and Scott took another step backwards. Michael's hand shot up, palm forward to motion for Scott to hold still. Scott did.

The same hand crept to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Gray ribs sat in suspension above a grotesque mound of flesh. It was blackened and glistened with excretions. The snaking tube of an intestine coiled around molding, rotting chunks of decomposing muscle. The entire nightmare was coated in a wet, dark substance that oozed not with the texture of blood, but closer to that of molasses. Thick and crawling, staining his pants and covering his pale skin which seemed to be tearing like an old, worn shirt.

Scott gagged, his throat closed and he tried desperately to swallow, but couldn't get his body to cooperate. He choked again and doubled over, ripping the phone from his head as he vomited, his stomach felt like it was turning itself inside-out. He panted, his stomach tightened and his back ached with the clenching of his muscles. He braced his hands on his knees, sobs wracking his body. Tears flowed down his cheeks and mixed with the bile that lingered around his lips.

"Aren't I hideous? Am I not a man anymore, Scott? Am I not human anymore? I am no better than a monster myself. A monster among his own kind." Scott shook his head, letting his shirt fall back to cover the gaping chasm in his torso. Scott stood up again and the world spun, his vision blackened at the edges grew fuzzy. Michael began screaming, horrible, pain filled screamed with more emotion than Scott could fathom and so he collapsed. Crumpling to the stained tile in his own puke.