One's Lonely, Two's Company, Three's a Crowd

"What? What the-?! Oh, come on... No, no, no, NO! Don't do this to me! Don't do this to me now!" Michael cursed his security camera monitor, holding back the urge to punch the computer right in its face! (Or, screen, rather). The thing had just randomly shorted out and gone dark. Along with being just a general nuisance in that he would now have to take that scrapy piece of metal to some fancy repair shop, there was the far more pressing danger that, without a functioning monitor, he was blind to any animatronics trying to crawl into his office.

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" no sooner had Michael had the thought about suddenly being vulnerable to animatronic attack when one of the animatronics decided to prove his point perfectly and attack. A messy, metal face shoved its way through the vents and into his office, uttering that weird, hissing roar. It scared the daylights out of Michael and, by reflex, he jumped away from the emerging face only to smash right into the vent on the other side of his tiny office.

"Did I catch you off guard?" an ethereal voice hummed at him in amusement as the last strains of the hissing roar echoed down the vents.

"Scrap Baby!" Michael gasped, trying to rise to his feet but shaking too terribly from her jumpscare to do more than crawl back into his chair.

"You should have known I'd find you," the soft, haunting whisper of a voice replied, the amusement turning into seriousness. The one who was speaking to him, Scrap Baby, clawed herself out of the vent until she was standing right in front of Michael, one remaining green eye glowing sickly as she looked down at him. Her hair, which looked to be more like several strands of wire mixed with what might've been real hair as opposed to just a painted piece of metal, swayed a little bit as she laughed at Michael's sorry state. He was still shaking.

"What are you doing here, Baby?" Michael demanded, trying to sound at least a little in control.

"Well, Mikey, I could hear you crying and complaining about your monitor and I decided to come keep you company since, with that mean old computer all black now, you're all by yourself!" she teased him, voice still as lulling as ever, but Michael was anything but tired around her. "I mean," she continued. "You know what they say! One's lonely, two's a company."

"Yeah, and three's a crowd," Michael managed to finish. "You're large enough to count for two people so that already puts us at three and you know I don't like crowds, so I suggest you get out of my office. Now."

"Or what?" Baby laughed, amused by Michael's attempt to be brave. "Besides, you could've fooled me! As one who continually returns to establishments such as these, I would've assumed you quite liked company! You always came back to us. Did you miss us?"

"Not in the slightest," Michael muttered grimly, wondering if he could safely throw himself back down the vent farthest away from Baby to escape.

"Well, that is a pity," Baby sighed dramatically. "I already invited a third person along. And by the way, it is very rude to tell a lady she is large enough to count for two!" she added, pretending to be offended, but he could hear the laugh in her voice and his blood ran cold.

"Who else did you try to-?"

"Raaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!" an animatronic right behind Michael's ear hissed

"OH GOD!" Michael jumped forward this time, landing right in Scrap Baby's arms. Uh-oh.

"Oh! Mikey! You do care!" Scrap Baby pretended to cry, then she tightened her hold on him as though she were hugging him.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," the second animatronic replied, sounding grimly satisfied as he hauled himself out through the very vent Michael had been considering trying to escape out of. Realizing what he almost would've thrown himself into made him sick to think about, for this particular robot was his father, William Afton, the creator and propagator of this whole messy nightmare. Michael's number one enemy.