9:37 AM
A faint light was shining through his closed eyelids as he lay dormant, wherever he was; letting his eyes open slowly, Mike acknowledged the sound of cars driving passed, along with the chatter and horns that signified that rush hour was still in effect. Considering the light that came from the window, Mike decided that it was morning. In spite of that, the room was slightly dark from the lack of artificial light and the semi-closed curtains. Wherever he was, the overall appearance of the room and the situation he was in hinted at it being a hospital.
Feeling a sharp pain in his forehead, Mike reached up with his hand and felt the bandage wrapped around neatly his head, tied together on the left side. On the table near the bed he was laying on was his Night Guard's jumpsuit. The lack of handcuffs signified that he was not being held under investigation, which was reassuring. Slowly, what had happened when he had been conscious last came back to him; he could remember the plan that he and the others had created. He could remember how when he had shot Bonnie, Chica had attacked him without warning.
When Foxy and Freddy had jumped into the Frey to save his life, Mike knew that the entire thing had not been a plan to lure him into the open. Something had caused Chica to lose all self-control and to attack both him and her own friends; why exactly that had happened, Mike truly had no clue. The entire thing was a complete mess that he still couldn't figure out. All of this, built on top of the fact that those he had planned to kill that night had ended up essentially saving his life, made it all just so…bizarre.
Then, he remembered how Chica had attempted to drag him to the Backstage room. He did not need to think too much to know what she had been intending; to stuff him into one of the suits. If it had not been for Foxy, that would have been the end. Before he could dwell too much on it, the door was opened and a man wearing a typical doctor's coat stepped in, reading something on his clipboard. Due to the horrifying thought that he had almost died that night, Mike did not notice the presence of the doctor at first.
Looking up from his clipboard, the doctor had been expecting to see the patient still unconscious, as he had been since he had been brought to the hospital only a few hours earlier; with that in mind, it was only natural that he did a double-take when he saw the man not only awake, but sitting up. After blinking a few times, the doctor smiled slightly and lowered the clipboard; since it did not seem that the patient had noticed him entering the room, he decided that he should be the one to greet the man, to not shock him.
"Ah, I'm glad to see that you're awake so soon." The doctor's voice instantly snapped Mike back to reality as he realised that there was someone else in the room; slowly, the doctor walked around the other side of the bed and sat down on a small office chair that was previously tucked under the table. Quickly checking over his clipboard again, the doctor wheeled over to the Night Guard and started to examine his forehead, peeling off the bandage that had likely been placed a few hours prior to him waking up; as he did, Mike analysed his appearance.
Short-cropped black hair—blended with grey at the sides, showing his advanced age—decorated his head, with not a sign of baldness anywhere. His face, clean-shaven with not a sign of hair anywhere except for the upper lip and rounding around to the chin being layered with light stubble, was relatively young in appearance, yet the man had to be in his late forties. Hazel-green eyes radiated confidence and strength, combined with his friendly body language; in his opinion, the man was a typical doctor. Finally finished with the examination, the doctor sat back down on the chair, clipboard in-hand.
"Do you remember your name?"
In response, Mike nodded, understanding that he was checking for any sign of amnesia. "Mike. My name is Mike Schmidt." His eyes went back to the slightly-veiled window, remembering where he was and where he had been likely only a few hours earlier. Near the window was a large painting of a sunset, which Mike was amazed he had not seen earlier; he guessed he could be excused, seeing as he had only just woken up. "How did I get here? Who brought me?" He knew that even then, he was in hot water still.
