The Exalted Guard

Exaltation

"That's forty times now," the guard said as he struck his lighter again. A small flame was sparked in the dark shadows of the hallway. The red and black tiled floors felt cold underneath him, as he sat with his legs crossed indian style. He let the Zippo match lighter wink out.

Darkness.

He struck it.

Light was cast across the intersection, as the children's drawings on the left, right, and front walls were illuminated. The man was jerked forward a little, but not by much, as three hard bangs sounded from the door at his back.

A muffled voice shouted, "You can't do this man! Please! Just let me out!."

The man scooted back up against the door. At night, it never seemed to be locked, or even have a door handle. It was just a massive slab of metal that read 'Parts and Services'. "I'm sorry, but it's better me than you," the night watchman said as he squashed the flame again with his metal lighter top. His ragged, torn, white shirt with black tie seemed to be the only bright spot as his long, black pants, in the same condition as his shirt, perfectly merged with the darkness.

He struck the lighter.

Down the front hallway, he saw the faintest hint of movement. To some, a small brown blur would simply be considered a trick of the eyes. But, this night guard knew better, "Here they come. Yo, what's the time?"

Three more forceful raps, "Please, don't do this!" There was a hint of a sob coming from the slightly feminine voice behind the door.

The guard put the flame out, "What. Is. The. Time?"

There was a brief silence followed by a noise that sounded a bit like crying, "...5:45."

The man took a deep breath, and then let it out, "Then, I'll just have to keep em back for 20 minutes."

He struck the flame.

This time, there was no question. There was something standing in the front hallway. Something big, brown, and in need of some serious repairs. The man slowly turned his head and the flame to the left and right hallways. Down the left hallway was one long purple ear that drooped to the right side, with a long right arm that ended in wires, making it look akin to a claw. Down the right path wasn't much, just a white bib that seemed to be fused into a yellow body. It read 'Let's Eat!'

The man killed the flame, then stood up. His legs were sore from sitting in the same position, but they moved. His arms popped as he used them to push himself off the floor, but they were ready to be used when needed. His back hurt from keeping the door closed against the occupant's relentless assaults, but he would hold it shut for as long as was needed. He grabbed his trusty flashlight in his right hand, and took his left, which still held the lighter, and pulled his hat so that the flap faced the front. The cap was a symbol of his position at the restaurant. Along with the badge, it identified him as one of the night guards for the Pizzeria, under contract to protect it from any attempts at violating the law, in or around the establishment. Plus, it kept his rather unruly black, coarse, hair under control, and looked pretty sweet too.

He knew that his flashlight only had a limited amount of power left. He had been using it a lot since he got here. Having no doors to close really left him with little options in way of making sure his skin stayed out of one those suits. He figured he'd lucked out when he heard about that glitch in the machines, where light rapidly flashed at one would freeze a bot in place for a time. He quickly realized, that didn't mean that one flash was enough to stop them for any amount of time. He knew that he would probably only be able to freeze two of them before the third got him.

It was better than going out like a punk.

He lit the flame.

"Well, it's about time you three got here." Mike Schmidt, night guard for the Freddy Fazbear Pizzeria, stood facing the three animatronics that had been making his life a living hell for the past 2 months now.