The office was easy enough to find. Flashlight on the desk. He grabbed it, along with the Freddy mask and security tablet sitting right beside it. Behind the desk were lockers. He opened one and pulled out a purple vest, a matching hat, and a shiny badge.
The same uniform Jeremy would've worn. Mike held the vest for a moment too long. Just stiff purple fabric with his name tag on it. He pulled it on anyway, forced the thought down, and grabbed the tablet.
Mike saw a cassette player on the desk labeled for night guard, and hit play.
"Uh, hey there! Welcome aboard!" The voice sounded cheerful, trying way too hard to sound casual. "Just making this pre-recorded message to go over a few things before your shift starts. You know, standard procedure. Nothing to worry about!"
"So, first things first, we left the front door unlocked for you. Make sure you lock it when you go in and when you leave. The key's in the office. Your uniform should be in a locker back there too."
"Now, uh, about the animatronics." The man's tone shifted, trying to stay upbeat but failing. "They're, uh, they're programmed with some kind of free-roam mode. Keeps the servos or whatever from locking up, you know? Totally normal. They'll wander around at night, but that's completely normal."
"If they happen to get into your office, just put on the Freddy head; it's in the office somewhere. It should mess with their facial recognition software. They'll think you're one of them and leave you alone easy as that!"
"Oh, but, uh," the man cleared his throat nervously. "It won't work on Foxy. Or the Puppet. For Foxy, just flash your light at him. Resets his behavior. For the Puppet, you need to keep that music box wound up. If the music stops, well, let's just say, don't let it stop unless you want a visit from the puppet."
"And I think that covers everything!" He paused. "So, yeah. Good luck! You'll do great!"
*You'll do great.*
Sitting in the chair, Mike looked through the camera, checking the place out. He had already seen everything in the morning; however, everything seemed to look different at night.
In the parts and service room, the older models were inside, withered and broken. Freddy slumped forward, his suit torn open, wires spilling from his torso. Bonnie's face was gone entirely; only his lower jaw remained, hanging slack. Two dark, empty sockets stared out from where his face used to be. Chica leaned against the wall, her beak cracked, bib stained and frayed. Both arms ended in tangles of bare wire where her hands should have been. Foxy stood rigid in the corner, hook raised, some fur missing, teeth permanently bared.
These were the first designs, the original four, before being replaced with the toys.
Looking through the camera, he saw the music box. From the tablet, he made the gauge rise; at least he didn't need to do it manually.
Looking back at the main stage where the toys were, he noticed Toy Bonnie had moved. Mike started to keep track of them all, making sure to check out the hall and the vents.
Most of them were moving now. Creaks. Shuffles. Footsteps echoing where the halls had been still.
He checked the music box gauge constantly, tapping it every few moments to keep it wound.
Toy Bonnie in the left vent. Toy Chica in the right. He flipped through feeds: Main Hall, Party Rooms, both vents, Prize Corner.
Music box. Wind. Check vents. Check hall. Repeat.
The pattern settled. Manageable, barely.
Toy Bonnie in the office. Mask on. Vision narrowed to eyeholes. Mechanical whirring, close. Footsteps retreating. Mask off.
The first hour crawled by. He kept pace.
The music box gauge dipped into the red. He'd been watching the vents. Missed it. His thumb jabbed the control; the music stuttered, then resumed.
The gauge climbed back to safety.
Activity picked up. Toy Chica in the office. Mask on, wait for a bit, then take it off.
He flipped through cameras, vents, music box, wind. Lowered the tablet. Withered Freddy stood in front of him.
Mask on, one smooth motion. Heavy, mechanical breathing just feet away. He sat still. Waited a few extra seconds, then pulled the mask off.
Withered Foxy in the hallway, motionless. Hook raised. Jaw hanging. His eyes fixed on the office. The flashlight was in his hand. He aimed, clicked it on. The beam caught Foxy's mangled frame.
Foxy's head snapped aside, metal grinding. He turned and stalked toward Parts & Service, the sound of his steps fading. Mike lowered the flashlight.
The rhythm continued. Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, Withered Chica. Mask on, off, on, off. Flash the hall. Wind the box. Close calls, but handling it.
Four hours down.
The right vent camera showed Mangle's twisted frame, wires trailing, two heads twitching at different angles. He filed it away and flipped to the music box. The gauge was low. Critically low.
He wound it, eyes on the Prize Corner feed. Office check. Empty. Good. Back to vents. Right vent: empty. He looked up. Mangle hung from the ceiling, body suspended by wires, both heads looking down at him. Metal joints clicked. One head's jaw slack, the other twitching erratically. From somewhere in her broken frame, her damaged voice box emitted a grating, relentless static.
Mask on. Mangle didn't move. He waited. Still nothing. Mask off, slow. Mangle stayed suspended, twitching, watching. Wasn't leaving.
The mask didn't work on her. She just hung from the ceiling tiles, static screeching from her throat, acting as an extremely loud, extremely annoying chandelier.
He kept working. Music box. Vents. Hall. Mangle hung above him, a threat he couldn't remove.
Toy Freddy in the office. Mask on. Slow, mechanical breathing. Footsteps retreating. Off.
Back to cameras. Music box. Wind. Left vent: Withered Bonnie. Right vent: Withered Chica. Toy Bonnie. Mask on. Off. Relentless now. Something new every few seconds.
Withered Foxy in the hallway. The flashlight beam hit Foxy's eye. He covered his eye, then headed back toward Parts & Service. Mike lowered the light and returned to the tablet.
The office seemed smaller each time they entered. Mangle stayed overhead, twitching, both heads aimed down.
Mangle's broken voice box blared overhead. The noise filled his head, a wall of static that made it impossible to pick out footsteps.
He flipped back to the camera's music box, then the vents. He didn't hear the faint scrape of metal on tile as a small figure crawled in from the left vent and settled in the corner.
5:58 AM. He looked up from the tablet. Withered Foxy in the hallway. Hook raised. Jaw hanging. Staring directly at him.
He grabbed the flashlight in an attempt to use it to get rid of Foxy, but it wouldn't turn on.
His eyes snapped to the dark corner. Balloon Boy stood there holding batteries like stolen treasure, grinning with the smug satisfaction of a toddler who just ruined Christmas. "Hi! Hello!"
He looked back. Foxy hadn't moved, but he only had minutes before their morning program sent them back to the stage.
All Mike could do was sit there, fend off the others, and hope Mangle and Foxy stayed back.
5:59 AM. Foxy took a step forward. Mike's grip on the dead flashlight didn't matter. Another step. Balloon Boy giggled. Another step. He wound the music box one more time, eyes on Foxy. Mangle's voice box crackled louder, a shrieking static. Another step. Closer. Foxy raised his hook.
Mike's watch beeped. 6:00 AM.
Foxy's hook stopped inches from his face. The animatronic shuddered once, then turned. He walked back toward the hallway. The other animatronics were moving too. Returning to their stages, the day programming had taken over, sending them back to where they belonged.
All those animatronic noises in the building seemed to have finally died down. Mike was about to get up and leave when he noticed Foxy.
Foxy stopped mid-step. The animatronic stalled, then turned. Slowly. His eyes focused on Mike's. The programming meant nothing when the kid inside wasn't done.