The Night Shift (Mike Schmidt x Reader)

7. Gold Fever

Nopenopenope. I was done. I've been scared out of my skin enough times this week, thank you very much. I thought that I had already seen all that this hellhole had to offer, but I apparently hadn't.

Mike was pretty confident tonight. He didn't show any emotion whatsoever, which was unlike him. There were always a few strains of curses before, even if nothing bad really happened. That, or repeated sighs of relief and fist pumps when a crisis was averted. Must've missed his coffee this morning.

All of a sudden, a shiny figure had appeared in the middle of the office. Mike yelled and shoved the tablet up in my face. He promptly pulled away and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. THAT?" I asked.

"Shit, I forget to tell you fucking everything! Anyway, that's a little friend of mine I call Winnie the Pooh." I glared at him, and he cleared his throat. He must be used to having his jokes fall flat. "That's Golden Freddy. He appears and tries to fuck things up occasionally. Just hide yourself with the tablet and he should go away."

Jesus. This place was so fucked up. Not only are these bloodthirsty animatronics trying to kill me, but there's imaginary yellow bears out to get me as well? I wonder what else Mike forgot to mention. Next thing you know, there's going to be some kind of murder involving stuffed animals. Considering the things I've seen so far, I wouldn't doubt it for a second.

On our way out, I could've sworn I saw someone watching us walk out from underneath a streetlamp. Was he...was he wearing purple? It wasn't like he was just wearing a purple shirt or something; it looked like he was entirely clothed in purple. I couldn't really tell. I didn't bother to point it out to Mike, but I promised myself I would if he showed up again. I had a bad feeling about this guy. I couldn't help but wonder what shit was going to go down tomorrow, since it was the end of the work week. I waved to Mike and got in my car. Mike had the omnipresent cup of coffee in his hand. Guy must have an addiction. As I drove off, I noticed him throw the cup of coffee in the direction of the place I thought I saw the guy standing earlier. There was nothing there, though, so I just assumed that it was just Mike being Mike and throwing the coffee because it was too hot or some animal was making annoying noises. Oh well, I'll mention the situation tomorrow if it comes up.