Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Eight: The Second Night

  As expected, Violet stood leaning against the entrance to the pizzeria at approximately 11:50, keys in hand. Mike left the car as soon as he parked this time, a dark shadow hanging over him as he trudged up the cement steps to his doom, the second night in a row. Violet opened the door for him, opening her mouth to say something. Mike paused, attentive. She shut her mouth swiftly and shook her head, closing the door behind him and locking it. Mike exhaled, shuddering as he laid eyes on the animatronics. He could hear Violet's purple car start up and pull out of it's space, peeling away along with any sense of security Mike felt he had left. He stood frozen in the center of the dining room, his three tormentors frozen before him.
  "Hi," he greeted suddenly with an awkward clap of his hands, "my name's Mike... it's good to see you all again." Silence greeted him. He didn't know what he had been expecting. "Uh... listen... I... I don't know why you're all trying to kill me but... I'm trying to help... something... something bad happened here and I'm trying to find out who did it. Can't you maybe... I don't know... try to not kill me? Please?" No response. He sighed, trudging off. "Thanks I guess..."

  "Uh, hello?  Hello?" The phone asked between the far off chimes of the clock.  Mike sunk deeper into his chair, resisting the pure, fiery urge to take the old phone and smash it against the wall.  "Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats!  I- I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..."  Mike took his advice, snapping to attention.  So far, all was well.  "Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right?"
  "That would have been great to know yesterday," Mike breathed, rubbing his temples. 
  "I- I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if-if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that." Mike raised an eyebrow. 
  "Of all the two faced, contradictory..."
  "Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon."
  "Yeah, yeah, Pirate's Cove..." Mike agreed loosely, snapping through the different cameras.  There were no signs of movement.  Nothing.  Mike leaned back in defeat, waiting... watching... nothing.

  It was three a.m. before anything noteworthy happened.  The rabbit and chicken had both left their respective spots and were wandering around the dining room and halls, oddly enough, rather non threateningly.  Mike raised an eyebrow, suspicious.  Freddy remained stagnant.  Mike started to relax.  Maybe, he thought grimly, maybe it really had all been in my head... maybe nothing happened after all. 

  As though on cue, a sudden clicking to his left began growing louder and louder as though someone in extremely sharp heels were running up to the office.  Without even checking the monitors, Mike smashed his hand on the door button, an icy feeling falling over him.  His breath rattled as he stood from his swivel seat, edging toward the window.  He illuminated the hallway with his flashlight.  This triggered something from the darkness, a fast shimmering of metal on glass as an animatronic Fox smashed into the window repeatedly, sending shock waves of dust and debris falling onto Mike.  He stood paralyzed, dropping his flashlight to the floor as his ears rang with animatronic squeals of terror.  Mike's knees shook as he fell back into his seat, watching and waiting.  Slowly but surely, Pirate's Cove regained its only tenant.  A deep laugh sounded from the stage, as though Freddy himself somehow found the situation amusing.  Mike glared, opening the door again to conserve what little power he had left. 

  Violet arrived at six a.m. and hurried to the security office to find Mike inches from sleep.  She relaxed, nudging his shoulder. 
  "Hello, hello," she greeted, "you made it."  Mike yawned, stretching.  "Any problems?"  He paused, looking at the monitors. 
  "Nope," he lied.  Violet nodded, glancing around the office. 
  "Good to hear..." her eyes landed on the window.  "Wow, did you get into an argument with the window or something?" 
  "The fox... he..." Mike started, "never mind."  Violet frowned, a knowing look crossing her face. 
  "Right... uh... it was already like this when you got here, right?"  Mike nodded.  "Good, I'll let Iris know, he'll get it fixed up.  Or he won't.  Shouldn't matter."  Mike stood, stretching. 
  "I guess I should get going," Mike managed, "wouldn't want to... you know... get overtime." 
  "God forbid," Violet agreed, "you don't want to see overtime here... it'd kill you."  They both froze, realizing the weight of her words, "I just mean it's demanding." 
  "I knew what you meant," Mike assured.  "I'll see you at eleven fifty." 
  "Right," she agreed, straightening professionally, "bye Mr. Schmidt."

  When Mike returned to the dining room, he saw Charlie sweeping the floor.  He jerked to attention and waved, causing Mike to smile.  Mike's gaze moved past him and onto the purple curtains in Pirate's Cove. 
  "Hey Charlie, how'd the fox break?" 
  "Foxy?" Charlie asked, turning towards it, "he just up and quit one day.  Why do you ask?" 
  "Like... he won't move or...?" 
  "Yeah, he just kind of went haywire," Charlie surmised, "his voice was out of sync and his motions were... off putting... it was creepy really." 
  "Creepy?" 
  "Yeah," Charlie nodded, "I... I can't explain it... it was just... wrong." 
  "Wrong indeed!" Mr. Iris chimed in from his office, "Mr. Schmidt, why do you ask about our dear friend Foxy?  Did something happen?" 
  "No sir," Mike informed hastily, "I was just curious, you know.  A pirate fox... seems like something I would have loved as a kid.  I was just wondering what was wrong with it and why it has never been fixed." 
  "There's no fixing poor Foxy," Mr. Iris said shortly, his friendly demeanor ebbing, "besides, it's against Freddy Fazbear's guidelines to get near the animatronics.  No one could fix Foxy even if they wanted to."  Mike wanted to push the issue, wanted to hear about Iris's poor reasoning.  He wanted to see how he'd worm around the bite of eighty seven and the poor code violations he was encouraging.  Something, however, told Mike to stop.  A deep, dark look was brewing in the back of Iris's eyes, he looked like he could burst.  An icy shock impaled Mike as he accepted Iris's warning glance. 
  "Understood," Mike smiled, "just curious."  Mr. Iris nodded, turning on his heel and returning to his office. 
  "I've never seen Iris shut down like that," Charlie muttered, "whatever he thought you were getting on about, it must not have been good." 
  "No, I think you're right," Mike agreed, "I think I struck a nerve." 
  "Hope that doesn't come back to bite you," Charlie muttered, "asking questions around here is dangerous, Mr. Schmidt.  I'd keep my head down if I were you."