Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Nineteen: Overtime

  In the hours leading up to his Saturday night shift, Mike spent the time sketching maps of the pizzeria in his notebook, logging everything he knew about the behavior of the animatronics. Freddy, he knew, became more active in the dark. If Mike didn't waste energy turning on the lights or closing the doors, it was possible Freddy might not even bother leaving the stage. Bonnie and Chica seemed to be the most active, sticking to the hallways on either side of the office. The key with them, Mike decided, would be speed. If they discovered he wasn't in the office, they may use the cameras to locate him. Because of this, Mike decided to show up early and tape them up, preventing anyone from spying on him. This would render Foxy active, however. Mike was relying on leaving the monitor fixed on Foxy to buy him some time until the animatronic noticed the lack of attention. The best way to traverse, Mike realized, would be to utilize the air vents. It would allow him to go over the animatronics undetected and may allow entrance to the theoretical secret room Jeremy Fitzgerald mentioned. There, of course, were several risks. For one, the building was old. Anything from water damage to faulty structure could lead to Mike crashing through the ceiling. The possibility of mold, asbestos, and any other health risks could put his lungs in peril. Not to mention, he didn't know the building well enough to navigate secret passages in the dark. Should anything go wrong from the vent collapsing under him or Iris coming in early, he'd be dead, potentially literally. Mike swallowed, looking from the plan on his notebook to the clock, slowly ticking toward his doom. In his coat pocket, he wedged his notebook, a flashlight, and a camera. His security badge shown in the slowly fading light from the evening as he left his motel room.

  Mike showed up before Iris, slotting his bike in the rack and locking it with shaking hands. Iris's car pulled up a moment later, his posture slumped and energy downtrodden. He unlocked the door, expecting to speak to Mike as usual, but he was shuffled past with angst.
  "Goodnight, sir," Mike called, dashing through the dining room.
  "Best of luck, Mr. Schmidt," Iris called, but Mike barely heard him from down the hall. Iris scratched his head and shrugged, locking the door and moving on.

  The supply room had black masking tape for quick fixes on the animatronics, as well as a screwdriver for breaking into the ventilation. Due to Iris's tight fisted rules, however, it looked like neither tool had been touched since eighty seven. Mike dashed around the restaurant, blinding the security cameras one by one. Audio, he realized, would be impossible to deafen with his limited resources. He'd have to be quiet. Very. Quiet. As the wind pushed through the ventilation, causing the metal tubes to expand, Mike shuddered at the thought of the noise he'd make crawling through as a one hundred and eighty pound man. He'd just have to move slow.

  He entered the security office five minutes to midnight, moving the swivel seat underneath the air vent. He tested his weight shakily, finding himself mostly stable as he straightened. He withdrew the screwdriver from his pocket, unscrewing the vent. It was just big enough to slide through. He pulled himself up, his muscles straining against his weight as the metal buckled, begging for reprieve. When he was inside, he relaxed, leaning against the cool metal walls. He replaced the vent loosely so at a brief glance it could pass as normal. Then, he waited.

  The clock struck midnight and, as he expected, the animatronics began their decent down the hall. Bonnie was the first to arrive in the office, turning his head stiffly toward the monitors. They appeared black on the flickering screen. Mike's heart hammered as the rabbit turned straight ahead once more, continuing forward and down the other hall. Mike released his breath, crawling slowly and carefully down the air shaft toward the back of the restaurant. He paused, coming to another air vent. He was in front of the bathrooms where Bonnie and Chica now stood facing each other. Bonnie's mouth was open, a mechanical whirring issuing from his throat like a dial tone. He closed his mouth, allowing Chica to unhinge her jaw and make the same sound. Mike squinted. Were they... communicating? The two turned, stomping in the direction of the dining room as to tell Freddy that the night guard had vanished from sight. Mike relaxed, crawling quietly toward the supply closet. He couldn't believe this was actually working. He'd find evidence in no time.