Mike didn't waste time. He moved through the house, grabbing what he needed. Keys, wallet, the illusion disc already in place, and a few more just in case. Jeremy's warning about the yellow suit kept playing in his mind; it had to be the Spring Bonnie suit. If his father was involved, Mike needed to be there.
Eventually he reached the pizzeria and walked right in. Jeremy was there by the kids' cove, constantly moving through the crowd and keeping the kids safe, his attention pulled in a dozen different directions.
The whole place was a chaotic mess of screaming children and blaring arcade noise; on normal days, it usually wasn't this bad. Children darted between rows of party tables while exhausted parents sat in the main party room talking with each other, completely ignoring their kids like it wasn't their responsibility but rather the staff's. Jeremy, who was still by the kids' cove, was wiping sweat from his forehead, trying to untangle a group of crying toddlers fighting over a plastic hat.
Then a loud burst of radio static came from somewhere, followed by the screams of children, not the usual cheerful kind, but the ones that had everyone further away suddenly whipping their heads toward the sound, wondering why people were screaming.
Mike looked toward Kid's Cove. Mangle was crouched low, a tangled mess of white and pink parts with fresh blood dripping from its exposed steel jaw onto the black-and-white checkered tile. It twitched violently as the surrounding kids screamed and ran away.
Next to Mangle, lying motionless on the tile, was Jeremy.
Mike broke into a sprint before the rest of the room could react. Panic erupted around him; parents scooped up their children and bolted for the exits while staff shouted into phones. Blood was pooling rapidly across the polished checkered tile, staining the fabric of Jeremy's uniform. The front of his skull was crushed inward. The damage was horrifying.
Mike had seen this before, when his brother's head was crushed the same way. The dark blood pooling across the tile looked identical. As did the horrific angle of the skull. For an agonizing second, the body lying motionless on the floor wasn't Jeremy; it was Garrett.
Someone pulled him back, an employee shouting words he couldn't make out. Everyone inside was evacuated outside, and moments later red and blue lights were already flashing just down the street.
Paramedics worked quickly to stop the bleeding, then lifted Jeremy onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the ambulance. Mike stayed frozen, watching until the doors closed.
The ambulance drove off, and everyone present was interrogated by cops. The crowd stood around whispering. Parents held their kids too tight. Employees wandered around in shock turns out a staff member losing a piece of his skull in front of the toddler section was tough for PR to spin as 'family fun.' Unsurprisingly, the place closed early.
He pulled out his phone and called Jeremiah. In a steady and calm voice, he explained everything that happened. Jeremiah said he was heading to the hospital, then hung up.
The walk to the hospital took a while, but he made it. He found Jeremiah in the waiting area, sitting rigid in one of those plastic chairs; he looked like he'd been crying. Who wouldn't?
Mike sat beside him, neither of them saying anything.
"Michael, why did you let me die?"
He heard a voice. It sounded like it came right beside him. Mike turned, but there was only Jeremiah, still staring at the floor. He looked down the hallway. Jeremy stood at the far end, not bandaged, not bleeding. Just standing there, watching him, and it looked like he wanted him dead. The lights flickered once, twice.
He stared ahead, trying to shake off the hallucination, but he wasn't sure how to react to hearing the voices in his head call him by his real name, a name he had never told anyone, including Jeremy and Jeremiah.
Hours dragged by as pale nurses and exhausted visitors drifted past; some visiting patients, while others looked like they were barely holding on.
Finally, a doctor emerged from behind the double doors. He looked like he was used to giving people good and bad news.
"He's stable," the doctor said, picking his words carefully. "But he's in a coma right now… we don't know if he's going to make it."
Jeremiah went rigid.
"His frontal lobe is severely damaged. Almost destroyed, and he lost quite a lot of blood."
The doctor paused.
"Even if he wakes up, he might not be the same."
Jeremiah took a shaky breath. "Can we see him?"
The doctor hesitated, looking at Mike because he wasn't exactly a relative.
"He's with me," Jeremiah said firmly.
The doctor nodded. "Very well, then. But only for a few minutes."
They both walked in, and there he was, Jeremy, lying motionless on the hospital bed, his head wrapped in bandages that covered most of his face. Tubes connected to his arms. Machines beeped steadily, monitoring vitals; it looked like he was still breathing.
Jeremiah walked over and sat beside the bed, staring at his brother. His hands gripped the edge of the mattress, knuckles white.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" He let out a shaky breath. "Now look at you. Look at what happened. Is the money worth it now that you're lying in a hospital bed with part of your head missing?"
"You were supposed to be the smart one."
His hand reached out and grabbed Jeremy's hand.
"I can't lose you too," he whispered. "I can't."
Jeremiah leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the mattress. His shoulders shook. "I should've made you quit. I should've dragged you away from there."
"Don't blame yourself. It's obviously their fault," Mike said.
"I blame nobody but them," Jeremiah said.
Mike watched. He'd seen someone he cared about in a hospital bed before; unfortunately, that time had ended differently. Jeremy wasn't dead yet. Maybe there was a way to guarantee he wouldn't be.
Mike's phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen and saw a familiar number.
He stepped into the hallway, giving Jeremiah privacy.
"Hello?"
"Uh, hello? Hey, is this Fritz Smith?" The voice on the other end was nervous, slightly hesitant. "This is Fazbear Entertainment. I'm calling to let you know a night guard position is open and wondering if you're still interested."
Mike leaned against the wall. The irony was hard to miss. Jeremy had just gotten his head caved in by an animatronic, and a few hours later, they were offering Mike the job of babysitting the same machines.
*Perfect timing.*
"Yeah," Mike replied. "I am. When can I start?"
"Tonight. Twelve to six," the man said. "We're shutting the place down, so we need someone to watch the animatronics while we decide whether to scrap them or sell them. We can't have anyone breaking in to steal Fazbear Entertainment property. Also, the front entrance will be left unlocked for you. Please make sure you lock it behind you when you enter."
He paused. "Since you'll be there alone, you'll be held responsible for anything that's stolen or broken. Further information will be given when you start."
While Mike walked home, he wondered if he could have stopped it if only he had gotten between Jeremy and Mangle. The animatronics were dangerous, possessed or not.
Back home, Mike sat in silence, watching the clock tick toward midnight. It wasn't just about finding his father anymore; it was about getting what he needed to save Jeremy. He couldn't let William's machine take another life.
As midnight approached, Mike grabbed his keys and drove back toward the pizzeria.
Mike parked and walked up to the entrance. True to the caller's word, the door was unlocked. He stepped inside and turned the lock behind him.