《Bride of Afton》 First Meeting "Oh, you smug little tin can," she muttered, glaring at the grinning animatronic as its oversized paws waved her goodbye from the stage. The restaurant''s dim early-morning light reflected off its painted metal face, making it look even more sinister. "Hope you rust in hell, Candy." The animatronic, of course, didn''t respond. It never did. That didn''t stop Mary from flipping it the bird as she slung her bag over her shoulder and marched out the door. The early-morning air was cool and damp, the kind of weather that clung to your skin like a bad memory. Mary pulled her jacket tighter around herself and headed for the employee parking lot, already dreaming about collapsing into bed with a cold drink and a promise to herself that she''d find a better job. Someday. She stopped short when she reached the lot. Her car¡ªthe beaten-up red Chevy she had lovingly named "Rusty"¡ªwas gone. "Are you kidding me?" she yelled into the empty lot, her voice echoing off the surrounding buildings. She spun around, looking wildly for any sign of the car thief. Nothing. Just an empty parking space and a faint oil stain on the asphalt where Rusty had once been. "Great. Just great." Mary kicked at the ground, scowling. "Perfect end to a perfect shift."
With no car and no money for a cab¡ªCandy''s didn''t exactly pay generously¡ªMary was left with only one option. Hitchhiking. She trudged to the side of the road, sticking out her thumb as the first car approached. The driver¡ªa middle-aged man in a station wagon¡ªgave her a pitying look before speeding past. "Yeah, thanks a lot,buddy," Mary muttered, lowering her hand. The next car wasn''t any better. Or the next. By the tenth car, her patience had worn thin, and her thumb had been replaced by an extended middle finger aimed at every passing driver. "Hope you all get flat tires!" she yelled at a minivan as it zoomed by. She was about to give up and start the long, humiliating walk home when the low rumble of an engine caught her attention. A motorcycle was approaching, its headlights cutting through the gray dawn. The rider slowed as he neared her, pulling to a stop a few feet away. He cut the engine, and Mary found herself staring at a leather jacket, scuffed boots, and a helmeted face that screamed bad boy. The biker pulled off his helmet, revealing a young man with dark, slightly dishevelled hair and tired eyes. He looked like he hadn''t slept in days. "You need a ride?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. Mary blinked. She hadn''t expected anyone to actually stop, let alone someone who looked like they''d just rolled out of a James Dean poster. "Uh, yeah," she said, regaining her composure. "Thanks. My car got stolen." The man''s eyebrows lifted. "Tough luck." "Tell me about it," Mary muttered, stepping closer to the bike. As she did, she caught sight of the patch on his jacket. It was subtle, just a small embroidered bear logo on the sleeve, but it was enough to make her stomach drop. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. "You work at Freddy''s?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. The man frowned. "Yeah. Why?" Mary folded her arms. "I work at Candy''s. You know, thebetterrestaurant." The man snorted. "Better? That''s funny." "Oh, you think Freddy''s is so much better?" Mary shot back, her exhaustion and frustration boiling over. "At least our animatronics don''t look like they''re about to strangle someone!" "Freddy''s is fine," the man said, his tone dangerously close to condescending. "Better than Candy''s knockoff junk." Mary opened her mouth to retort, but the man shook his head and started putting his helmet back on. "Okay, you know what? Forget it," he said, his voice tight with irritation. "Good luck walking home." Panic flared in Mary''s chest. "Wait!" she said, holding up her hands. "I''m sorry, okay? I''m just¡ªtired. And mad. And my car got stolen. Please don''t leave me here." The man hesitated, his helmet halfway on. Finally, he sighed and pulled it off again. "Fine. Get on." Mary climbed onto the back of the bike, trying not to think about how close she was sitting to this stranger¡ªor how her hands were now gripping his jacket for balance. The engine roared to life, and they sped down the road, the wind whipping through her hair. After a few minutes of silence, Mary couldn''t resist asking, "So, what''s your name?" "Mike," the man said without looking back. Mary frowned. "Mike what?" "Just Mike." She rolled her eyes. "Mysterious. Great." "What about you?" he asked, his tone neutral. "Mary," she said. "And before you ask, no, I don''t enjoy working at Candy''s." Mike actually chuckled at that, the sound low and unexpected. "Yeah, I figured." For a moment, the ride was almost... pleasant. The sun was starting to rise, casting a warm glow over the empty road. Mary found herself relaxing, the tension of the night beginning to fade. "So, what''s Freddy''s like?" she asked, surprising herself with the question. Mike was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. "It''s... fine. Just a job." "Sounds like a great time," Mary said, her sarcasm earning another faint chuckle from him.
Mike dropped Mary off in front of her small apartment building, cutting the engine and glancing over his shoulder at her. "Here you go," he said. "Thanks," Mary said, climbing off the bike. She hesitated, unsure if she should say more. Before she could decide, Mike reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pen and a slip of paper. He scribbled something on it and handed it to her. "In case you need another ride," he said, his tone casual. Mary took the paper, her fingers brushing his briefly. She unfolded it and saw a phone number written in messy handwriting. "Thanks," she said again, feeling uncharacteristically shy. Mike nodded, putting his helmet back on. "Take care, Mary." And with that, he was gone, the roar of his motorcycle fading into the distance. Coffee and Phone Number Mary was this close to passing out on the diner table. Her body screamed for sleep, her eyelids felt like sandpaper, and her brain¡ªher poor, overworked brain¡ªwas basically held together by sheer spite and caffeine fumes. She blinked blearily at the Sparkys Diner menu, struggling to focus on the tiny, grease-stained letters. She wasn¡¯t even hungry. She just needed coffee. Desperately. Two hours. That was all she had before she had to clock in at Candy¡¯s for yet another thrilling (read: soul-sucking) night of sitting in a dark office, flipping through camera feeds, and hoping she didn¡¯t die in a ridiculous workplace accident. Because make no mistake: falling asleep on the job wasn¡¯t an option. Falling asleep meant suicide by animatronic. And Mary was not about to be taken out by a discount Chuck E. Cheese reject. She rubbed her temples, trying to will her exhaustion away. The factory job had been worse¡ªway worse¡ªbut at least there, the machines hadn¡¯t moved when she wasn¡¯t looking. She sighed and waved down a waitress, a tired woman in a neon pink uniform who looked about two orders away from quitting. ¡°Coffee. Black. Biggest cup you got,¡± Mary said. The waitress grunted in acknowledgment and trudged off. Mary slumped back in her seat and stared out the diner window, watching the headlights of passing cars blur together in the night. Just two hours. Stay awake for two more hours. ¡°Rough night ahead?¡± Mary nearly jumped out of her skin. The voice was low and familiar, and when she turned toward the source, she found herself looking straight into the face of that biker guy. Mike. The same guy who¡¯d given her a ride home two days ago. He was sitting in the booth across from hers, slouched against the seat like he was trying to physically merge with it. He had a cup of coffee in front of him, and judging by the half-dead look in his eyes, he was in a similar state of total exhaustion. ¡°You again,¡± Mary said, blinking at him. Mike lifted an eyebrow. ¡°You sound disappointed.¡± Mary snorted. ¡°Nah. Just surprised. Didn¡¯t take you for a diner guy, James Dean fanboy.¡± Mike immediately frowned. ¡°I am not a James Dean fanboy.¡± ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Mary said, smirking. ¡°Sure. That¡¯s why you¡¯re literally dressed like him.¡± Mike scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t even own a red jacket.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you got the broody rebel attitude down.¡± Mike opened his mouth, probably to argue, but then the waitress arrived with Mary¡¯s coffee, setting it down in front of her with all the enthusiasm of a corpse.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Mary eagerly grabbed the cup, taking a long sip and sighing in relief as the hot liquid burned its way down her throat. ¡°You come here a lot?¡± she asked after a moment, watching as Mike took a sip from his own cup. ¡°Sometimes,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s quiet.¡± Mary tilted her head. ¡°That why you¡¯re here now? Or are you just that addicted to coffee?¡± Mike¡¯s expression flickered¡ªsomething quick, something tight. ¡°Just needed to get away,¡± he said vaguely, staring at his cup. Mary didn¡¯t press. She wasn¡¯t an idiot. That was the kind of answer that meant don¡¯t ask. Instead, she took another sip of coffee and let the silence settle. ¡°So,¡± Mike said, after a beat. ¡°You¡¯re working again tonight?¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Yeah. Another night in hell.¡± Mike let out a low chuckle. ¡°Candy¡¯s really that bad?¡± ¡°Oh, no,¡± Mary said. ¡°It¡¯s worse.¡± Mike smirked. ¡°Bet my job¡¯s worse.¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°Oh, please. You sit on your ass at Freddy¡¯s just like I do at Candy¡¯s. I doubt you¡¯ve seen anything worse than¡ª¡± She cut herself off fast. Almost too fast. Mike blinked at her, but if he noticed anything weird about the sudden shift, he didn¡¯t say so. Instead, he smirked again. ¡°Oh yeah?¡± he said. ¡°You think your job is worse than mine?¡± Mary leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. ¡°I know it is.¡± Mike raised an eyebrow. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Because I have to deal with greasy teenagers breaking into the restaurant for free food, a manager who doesn¡¯t know what a pay raise is, and an animatronic penquin that keeps asking me for my order even when I have my employee badge on,¡± Mary shot back. Mike snorted. ¡°Oh yeah? Try dealing with a rat infestation, a boss who gets way too excited about birthdays, and power breaking down every shift.¡± ¡°Sounds like a you problem.¡± ¡°You¡¯re one to talk.¡± They locked eyes, neither willing to back down. Finally, Mary smirked. ¡°Still a James Dean fanboy, though.¡± Mike¡¯s face went red. Actually red. Mary stared. Then she grinned. ¡°Oh my God,¡± she said, laughing. ¡°I actually got you to blush.¡± Mike scowled. ¡°You did not.¡± ¡°You totally did.¡± Mike groaned and rubbed his face, clearly regretting ever talking to her. Mary took another sip of her coffee, satisfied with her victory.
The conversation drifted after that, mostly back to their jobs. They talked about the usual night shift struggles¡ªbeing alone in the dark, cheap managers, and, of course, how absolutely awful it was to sleep scheadual. She both left out the other stuff. Like how the animatronics at the restaurants were acting weird. Like how she¡äd both seen things they shouldn¡¯t have. Instead, she kept it normal. Kept it safe. Then she joked that he must have been desperate for cash if he applied to work at Freddy''s. She thought she would get a laugh but no instead she got- ¡°Well, you¡¯re way too gorgeous to be working at Candy¡äs,¡± Mike said, casually, like he wasn¡¯t about to send Mary straight into shutdown mode. She choked on her coffee. ¡°What?¡± Mike just shrugged, smirking slightly. ¡°Just saying.¡± Mary stared. There was silence. A lot of silence. Then, finally¡ª ¡°Alright, I¡¯m leaving.¡± She stood up way too fast, fumbling for her jacket, her heart definitely not pounding. Mike blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Mary ignored him, reaching for her bag. ¡°Mary¡ª¡± ¡°Good talk, gotta go, work time, haha bye,¡± she said in a rapid-fire burst of words. She turned, already half out the door¡ª Then hesitated. Because damn it, the guy looked lonely. Mary clenched her jaw, then grabbed a pen from her pocket, scribbled something on a napkin, and slammed it down on the table in front of him. ¡°Here,¡± she muttered. ¡°For work stories. That¡¯s it.¡± Mike picked up the napkin. His eyes flicked over the number scrawled across it, then back up to her, amused. Mary¡¯s face burned. Mike opened his mouth to say something. Mary turned on her heel and ran.
Mary walked very quickly to her job. She was not embarrassed. She was just¡ªhurrying. For work. Because she was responsible. And because if she didn''t Candy or Cindy or whatever can sneak into her office and wait for her there. Yes, that''s it. Not because she just gave her number to a rival restaurant¡¯s night guard. Not because he was annoyingly attractive despite being an absolute weirdo. No. This was purely a professional thing. Because night guards had to stick together. That was definitely the only reason. And if she told herself that enough times, maybe she¡¯d actually believe it. Hello Hello! Mary Schmidt was totally over her mom¡¯s death. Which was why she definitely wasn¡¯t thinking about it as she sat curled up on the couch, watching her moms favorite tv show with her dad. Nope. Not at all. She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth and forced her eyes to stay on the screen. Some overdramatic actor in a lab coat was waving his arms around, yelling about the mysteries of the mind. It was the kind of educational TV her mom loved¡ªnerdy, a little outdated, and so boring that it was the perfect background noise for a night spent pretending everything was fine. Her dad sat in his usual chair, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, sipping from his ancient coffee mug. He looked relaxed, which was a rare sight these days. His job at the city hall kept him busy, and with her brother off at college, it was usually just the two of them now. A commercial break came on, and Mary stretched, grabbing the remote to flip through channels. Then the phone rang. Her dad didn¡¯t move, just flicked his eyes toward her. ¡°You gonna get that?¡± Mary groaned and pushed herself off the couch. ¡°If it¡¯s another telemarketer, I swear¡ª¡± She grabbed the phone off the wall and answered with her usual level of grace: ¡°Yeah, what?¡± There was a brief pause, then¡ª ¡°¡­Uh. Hi?¡± Mary froze. Oh, crap. She knew that voice. It was biker guy. Mike. Her brain short-circuited for half a second before she yanked herself back together. Play it cool, Schmidt. She cleared her throat. ¡°Oh. Hey. Uh, what¡¯s up?¡± Mike chuckled on the other end. ¡°You sound surprised.¡± ¡°No, I just¡ª¡± Mary ran a hand through her hair, turning away from her dad, who was still watching her with mild curiosity. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting you to call, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°You did give me your number.¡± ¡°I know that,¡± Mary shot back, gripping the phone cord a little too tight. ¡°I just didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually use it.¡± ¡°Well, here I am.¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Mary rolled her eyes but couldn¡¯t stop the small smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°Yeah, yeah. So what¡¯s up?¡± ¡°So, are you free tomorrow?¡± Mike asked. Mary hesitated. ¡°Depends. I was thinking of taking overtime.¡± There was a short silence on the line, like he was debating how to respond. ¡°¡­You want to take overtime?¡± Mary sighed. ¡°I mean, I should. But I guess I could do it another day.¡± ¡°Good. Then come to this robotics presentation with me.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°A what?¡± ¡°A robotics presentation,¡± Mike repeated. ¡°It¡¯s some tech expo thing. There¡¯s a bunch of stuff about AI and automation. Thought it might be interesting.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°Dude. I spend five nights a week staring at robots. And you want me to voluntarily do it on my night off?¡± Mike snorted. ¡°Well, when you put it like that¡­¡± Mary exhaled, rubbing her temple. ¡°Why are you even going?¡± ¡°Couple reasons,¡± Mike said. ¡°One, my boss gave me the tickets¡ªhe¡¯s really into this stuff. And two, I figured it might be useful for the job.¡± That made her pause. As much as she wanted to avoid seeing more animatronics, the truth was¡­ she was curious. Something was off about Candy¡¯s. The way the animatronics moved, the weird noises she kept hearing, the feeling that something was watching her¡ªit wasn¡¯t normal. Maybe this would help. ¡°¡­Fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Mike said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. ¡°Figured I¡¯d win you over.¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Where are we meeting?¡± They hashed out the details¡ªMike would meet her at the diner near her place, and from there, they¡¯d head to the expo. Mary twirled the phone cord around her finger. ¡°Alright, got it.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± Mike said. ¡°See you tomorrow then.¡± Mary hesitated. ¡°¡­Yeah. See you Mike.¡± She hung up. Turned around. And immediately regretted it. Her dad was staring at her. Eyebrow raised. Coffee mug halfway to his mouth. ¡°Whose Mike?¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You just agreed to go somewhere with a guy named Mike.¡± ¡°Did I?¡± she said way too quickly. Her dad just kept staring. Mary groaned and flopped onto the couch, rubbing her face. ¡°Relax, it¡¯s not a thing.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say it was a thing,¡± her dad said. ¡°But you are acting weird.¡± ¡°I always act weird.¡± Her dad snorted. ¡°True.¡± Mary sighed and gave in. ¡°He¡¯s just some guy I met when my car got stolen. We work the same shift. That¡¯s all.¡± Her dad hummed. ¡°Where¡¯s he work?¡± Mary hesitated for half a second. ¡°...Freddy¡¯s.¡± Her dad blinked. ¡°Freddy¡¯s?¡± Mary braced herself. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°The place with the missing children?¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Dad. Please. That was, like, years ago.¡± Her dad made a face but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and took a sip of coffee. ¡°So, you¡¯re meeting up with this ¡®not a thing¡¯ Mike at a robotics presentation?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mary said flatly. ¡°On your night off?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Her dad smirked. ¡°Sounds like a date.¡± Mary¡¯s face ignited. ¡°It is not a date,¡± she snapped. ¡°Sure,¡± her dad said, in the most obviously-not-believing-her tone imaginable. Mary groaned and buried her face in a pillow. There was a pause. Then¡ª ¡°I¡¯ll drop you off,¡± her dad said. Mary peeked out. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll drop you off,¡± he repeated, sipping his coffee. ¡°I wanna meet this Mike.¡± Mary sputtered. ¡°DAD.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to meet him!¡± Her dad shrugged. ¡°I think I do.¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because,¡± her dad said, ¡°you don¡¯t talk about guys. Like, ever. And now, suddenly, there¡¯s a Mike taking you to a robot convention?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a date,¡± she stressed. ¡°Uh-huh,¡± he said, in that tone. Mary threw her hands in the air. ¡°Fine! Whatever! But you better not embarrass me.¡± Her dad smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± She did not believe him.
Mary lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, definitely not overthinking everything. It wasn¡¯t a date. It was a work-related trip. To a robotics expo. With a guy she barely knew. Who had called her at home. Who she had voluntarily given her number to. She rolled over and screamed into her pillow. A Name Like Afton The kitchen smelled like stale coffee and burnt toast. Michael Afton sat at the table, gripping his cup of coffee like it was a lifeline, while across from him, William Afton¡ªhis father, boss, and all-around human disaster¡ªstared at him like he¡¯d just sprouted a second head. ¡°You¡¯re meeting a girl?¡± Michael sighed and rubbed his temple. ¡°Yes, Dad.¡± William¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. He just kept staring, processing, like Michael had just casually announced he was moving to Mars. Then, as if flipping a switch, William recovered. ¡°Ah. I see.¡± Michael didn¡¯t trust that at all. William leaned back in his chair, swirling the contents of his tea cup. ¡°Be back before 10 PM.¡± Michael nodded. ¡°Understood.¡± William watched him for a moment longer, then chuckled softly. ¡°Well, well. My Michael, going on a date. Never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡± Michael scowled, grabbing his jacket. ¡°It¡¯s not a date.¡± ¡°Of course it isn¡¯t,¡± William said smoothly, but there was an edge to it. He didn¡¯t believe him. Michael didn¡¯t care. He was already standing up before his father could say anything else.
Michael swung his leg over his bike, gripping the handles as he revved the engine. It was an old but good bike¡ªsleek, and well-maintained. Given to him by Karl, his boss at Freddy¡¯s. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever given him, which wasn¡¯t saying much. The wind was crisp, cutting through the late-autumn air as he sped down the road. The leaves had started turning¡ªreds, oranges, and yellows¡ªscattered across the asphalt like a scene from a John Hughes movie. The ride gave him time to think. Which was not a good thing. He thought about Freddy¡¯s. His night shifts. How the animatronics¡ªsupposed to be harmless¡ªmoved just a little too smoothly sometimes. Looked at him for just a second too long. He thought about Jeremy. Good guy. Better than him, probably. He¡¯d worked the shift before Michael, until¡­ Michael swallowed. The Bite of ¡®87. He hadn¡¯t been there when it happened, but he¡¯d seen the aftermath. He¡¯d heard about it. The panic. The blood. The way Jeremy¡ªpoor, unlucky Jeremy¡ªwasn¡¯t the same afterward. The reports had blamed the programming and the poor condition of the Mangle.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Michael had his doubts. And then, like a cruel joke, his brain kept going. Kept pulling him back. Back to 1983. Back to the day he ruined everything. Michael could still hear it. The screaming. The cheering. The way his friends had laughed as they helped him carry Evan toward the stage, his little brother kicking and sobbing, begging him to stop. It¡¯s just a joke, he¡¯d told himself. Just a joke. He hadn¡¯t meant to hurt him. He hadn¡¯t meant for it to go that far. But then he was up there. His friends were chanting. He lifted Evan toward Fredbear¡¯s open mouth, just to scare him, just for a second¡ª The jaws snapped shut. The screaming stopped. And there was blood. Michael had never seen so much blood. His friends were gone. The restaurant was chaos. Adults were rushing in, yelling, grabbing him, pulling him away as he stood there, frozen. Fredbear¡¯s eyes¡ªthose wide, soulless eyes¡ªstared at him as his brother¡¯s body went limp. Then¡ª Nothing. Just darkness. Michael snapped out of it when he spotted Mary. She was standing near the diner where they¡¯d agreed to meet, arms crossed over her jacket, shifting awkwardly on her feet. Next to her was a man. Older. Tall. Wore glasses. Had the kind of mustache that made him look like he belonged in a Sears catalog. Michael slowed his bike, pulling into the parking lot. As he came to a stop, Mary turned toward him. ¡°Oh, great,¡± she muttered. Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh. Hi?¡± Mary sighed, gesturing toward the man. ¡°Michael, this is my dad. Dad, this is Michael.¡± Michael blinked. Oh. Oh. So that¡¯s what this was. Mary¡¯s dad was a control freak. Just like William. Probably one of those strict, overprotective dads who thought his daughter couldn¡¯t handle herself. Michael could already hear the lecture that was coming. But then¡ª Mister Schmidt smiled. ¡°Nice to meet you, Mike,¡± he said, shaking his hand firmly. ¡°You can call me Tom.¡± Michael blinked again. ¡°Uh. Yeah. You too.¡± That was¡­ weird. Tom didn¡¯t immediately threaten him. Didn¡¯t scowl or glare or ask him what his ¡°intentions¡± were. Michael wasn¡¯t sure how to react to that. ¡°So,¡± Tom said casually. ¡°You work at Freddy¡¯s?¡± Michael nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°And you have a last name or should I keep calling you Mike Mike in my head?¡± Mary cringed. "Dad oh my god." Michael hesitated. ¡°Uh. Its Afton. Michael Afton¡± The air changed. Mary¡¯s expression remained the same. Tom, meanwhile, exhaled through his nose, rubbing his chin. ¡°¡­Afton, huh,¡± he murmured. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect that.¡± Michael shifted uncomfortably. ¡°That a problem?¡± Tom shook his head. ¡°No. Just¡­¡± He gave Michael a small, knowing look. ¡°You have my condolences.¡± Michael stiffened. Mary frowned, looking between them. ¡°Okay, what the hell does that mean?¡± Tom just shook his head. ¡°Not my place.¡± Mary scowled but nodded. Tom stayed quiet. Michael was now thoroughly confused. Condolences? For what? His dead brother? His entire disaster of a life? Before he could ask, Tom clapped his hands together. ¡°Anyway! Let¡¯s get moving, kids. Don¡¯t mind me, I¡¯m just the chauffeur.¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Dad, please.¡± Michael just stared. Was this man real?
The drive to the convention was awkward. Mary was obviously mortified by her dad¡¯s presence, while Michael was still trying to wrap his head around whatever the hell just happened. Mary kept shooting him side-eyes, clearly waiting for him to say something, but Michael was too busy trying to process. His last name had meant something to Tom. Did he know he killed his brother? But then why didn''t he drag Mary back to their home? Did he pity him? They reached the convention center, and Tom waved them off. ¡°You kids have fun. Ignore me.¡± ¡°Gladly,¡± Mary muttered, dragging Michael toward the entrance. Michael let her pull him along, still lost in thought. But then Mary looked at him and really looked. ¡°¡­Dude,¡± she said. ¡°You look confused as hell.¡± Michael blinked, snapping back to reality. ¡°Huh? No. Just thinking.¡± Mary smirked. ¡°Uh-oh. Dangerous.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Har har.¡± Mary opened her mouth to tease him more, but then¡ª ¡°Hold on,¡± she said, suddenly narrowing her eyes. Michael tensed. ¡°What?¡± ¡°You¡¯re smiling.¡± Michael immediately scowled. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡± Mary grinned. ¡°Yes, you are.¡± Michael groaned. ¡°Oh, shut up.¡± She laughed. And, for once¡ª Michael didn¡¯t mind. Convention Mary.
Mary didn¡¯t understand jack shit about robotics. Which, to be fair, wasn¡¯t her fault. It wasn¡¯t like Candy¡¯s Burgers & Fries offered tech briefings to their night guards. Her job was to keep an eye on the animatronics, stop thives from breaking in, and make sure she didn¡¯t die of boredom¡ªor, you know, die in general. So as she stood beside Michael Afton, watching some guy in a Fazbear Entertainment blazer give a presentation about the next generation of endoskeleton technology, all she could do was nod along and pretend she understood half of what was being said. ¡°These new models are built with improved servo mechanisms, allowing for smoother movement and enhanced flexibility,¡± the presenter was saying, gesturing to a metal frame standing on the platform beside him. Its skeletal limbs twitched occasionally, its featureless head jerking from side to side in a way that was definitely not creepy. ¡°The upgraded AI will allow for more efficient pathfinding, reducing the likelihood of navigational errors!¡± Mary glanced at Michael. And, oh, he was into this. She¡¯d seen him tired, sarcastic, awkward, and occasionally amused¡ªbut this? This was different. His posture was relaxed, his eyes lit up with genuine excitement, and he was grinning. Like, actually grinning. Mary tilted her head. Huh. ¡°Alright, Mr. Dean,¡± she said, nudging him with her elbow. ¡°Explain this to me in English.¡± Michael snorted. ¡°It means it won¡¯t trip over chairs as much.¡± ¡°Oh, thank God,¡± Mary said, deadpan. ¡°A true technological marvel.¡± Michael chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s better than whatever junk Candy¡¯s uses.¡± Unfortunately for Mary, someone heard that. A Fazbear employee¡ªa guy in his early twenties, wearing a Fazbear Entertainment hat like it was a badge of honor¡ªturned from his post and grinned. ¡°Hell yeah, man! Fazbears forever!¡± He held up his hand. Michael high-fived him. Mary groaned. This was her life now. As they walked toward the other displays, Mary shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and gave Michael a look. ¡°So, you know a lot about this stuff,¡± she said. Michael shrugged. ¡°Yeah. I guess.¡± ¡°Where¡¯d you learn all of it?¡± He hesitated, then said, ¡°Studying to be an engineer.¡± Mary raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wait. Seriously?¡± Michael smirked. ¡°You sound surprised.¡± ¡°Because I am,¡± Mary said. ¡°I mean, you ride a motorcycle, dress like James Dean, and work a dead-end night shift. You do not scream future engineer.¡± Michael chuckled. ¡°Well, I am- Hopefully.¡± Mary shook her head, still processing. ¡°Alright, so who got you into engineering?¡± Michael hesitated again, then said, ¡°My uncle. Henry.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°Henry?¡± ¡°Yeah. He was¡ªis¡ªone of my dad¡¯s old business partners. He taught me a lot before he moved away.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Mary considered that. ¡°So, were you ever going to mention that you¡¯re the son of Freddy¡¯s co-owner?¡± Michael shot her a look. ¡°He¡¯s not.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Uh. Yeah, he is.¡± ¡°No,¡± Michael said, shaking his head. ¡°He was.¡± ¡°Explain.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°My dad stepped back from Fazbear Entertainment years ago to start his own company. He still owns stock, but that¡¯s it.¡± Mary processed that. ¡°So, what¡ªyou¡¯re not secretly loaded?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°My father is rich. I¡¯m not.¡± Mary crossed her arms. ¡°Okay, so, what¡ªyou never get any of it?¡± Michael¡¯s face twitched. ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°¡­Ever?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°You never even asked?¡± Michael scoffed. ¡°No point.¡± Mary stared at him. He said it so casually, like it was normal. Like it was fine. But something about the way he said it¡ªsomething about the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands stuffed deeper into his jacket pockets¡ªdidn¡¯t sit right with her. ¡°¡­You never got anything?¡± she asked carefully. Michael hesitated. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Paid for my grandpa¡¯s operation once,¡± he admitted. ¡°That¡¯s about it.¡± Mary¡¯s stomach sank. She didn¡¯t know much about Michael¡¯s life¡ªdidn¡¯t ask much¡ªbut she was starting to get the picture.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! A very shitty picture. Her eyes softened slightly. ¡°That sucks, man.¡± Michael huffed a laugh. ¡°Yeah, well.¡± Mary decided to drop it. Instead, she turned toward the next display and gestured dramatically. ¡°Alright, genius. Tell me about this one.¡± Michael followed her gaze. Then he grinned. ¡°That,¡± he said, ¡°is a classic.¡± The animatronic on display was an old Chuck E. Cheese mode according to the signl. It was clearly outdated, its fur slightly faded, its eyes looking a little too glossy to be completely normal. Still, the display boasted its importance as ¡°one of the earliest restaurant animatronics to gain national recognition!¡± Mary read the sign and smirked. ¡°You¡¯re geeking out again.¡± Michael gave her a flat look. ¡°I am not.¡± ¡°You so are.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever. This thing was huge back in the day.¡± Mary raised an eyebrow. ¡°Before Freddy¡¯s?¡± ¡°Before Chica¡¯s Party World,¡± Michael corrected. ¡°That¡¯s what really changed the industry.¡± Mary glanced at the sign again. ¡°Guess they couldn¡¯t compete with a bunch of chicken nuggets.¡± Michael choked on air. ¡°Jesus Christ, Mary.¡± Mary grinned. Michael shook his head, still laughing. ¡°Okay, I like you.¡± Mary¡¯s stomach flipped. She ignored it.
They continued browsing, Michael explaining things in a way that almost made sense to Mary. She actually liked listening to him talk about it¡ªliked the way he got really into it when he wasn¡¯t trying to play it cool. And then, as they were passing another Fazbear display, Mary casually asked¡ª ¡°So, uh¡­ is a glitch that makes animatronics move at night, like¡­ normal?¡± Michael stopped walking. Slowly turned to look at her. ¡°You too?¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Wait. What?¡± Michael was staring at her¡ªactual alarm in his expression. ¡°Your animatronics move?¡± he asked. Mary stared back. ¡°So do yours?¡± Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. For the first time, they really realized¡ª They weren¡¯t alone in this.
Michael.
Half an hour after their oh-shit-our-animatronics-are-both-weird moment, Michael and Mary sat across from each other at a cheap plastic table in the convention center¡¯s food court. The smell of fries, cheap burgers, and over-salted pretzels filled the air, mixing with the low hum of chatter and the occasional screech of a chair being dragged across tile. Mary had her arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Michael was leaning forward, hands folded on the table, thinking hard. ¡°So,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s break this down.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°What¡¯s to break down? My animatronics act weird.¡± Michael gave her a flat look. ¡°So do mine.¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, but mine actually have doors to stop them.¡± Michael scowled. ¡°You gonna keep rubbing that in?¡± ¡°Probably.¡± Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Okay. So, ignoring the fact that your job is objectively easier than mine¡ª¡± Mary snorted. ¡°Debatable.¡± ¡°¡ªwe need to figure out why our animatronics are acting weird,¡± Michael continued, ignoring her. Mary tapped her fingers on the table. ¡°Alright, genius. Got any actual theories?¡± Michael exhaled, thinking. ¡°Alright. From an engineering perspective, one possible explanation is that they don¡¯t have a night mode.¡± Mary tilted her head. ¡°Night mode?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Michael said. ¡°Basically, when an animatronic doesn¡¯t detect kids during the day, it automatically enters a sort of low-power state at night. But if it doesn¡¯t have a proper night mode, it¡¯ll keep running like it normally does¡ªexcept, y¡¯know, without an audience.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re saying they¡¯re just doing their jobs?¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°Maybe.¡± Mary didn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°Nope. That doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not?¡± ¡°Because if that were true,¡± Mary said, ¡°then wouldn¡¯t they just be running through their normal routines? Y¡¯know¡ªsinging, dancing, walking around? Instead, mine just¡­ stand there. They stare at the cameras. They lurk near my office. That¡¯s not normal.¡± Michael hesitated. She had a point. Mary crossed her arms. ¡°And another thing¡ªif they were just trying to perform, they wouldn¡¯t keep making a beeline for me. It¡¯s like they know I don¡¯t belong there.¡± Michael exhaled. ¡°Okay. Fair.¡± Mary smirked. ¡°Told you.¡± Michael groaned. ¡°Yeah, yeah, don¡¯t get cocky.¡± Mary leaned back in her seat. ¡°Alright. Your turn. What¡¯s Freddy¡¯s deal?¡± Michael drummed his fingers against the table. ¡°Well¡­ I do have a mask I can use to trick them. Most of them, at least.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°Most?¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Foxy¡¯s too smart for it.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Too smart?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Michael said. ¡°If he sees me, I die. Mask or no mask.¡± Mary stared at him. ¡°Jesus.¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°I just have to keep flashing my light at him.¡± Mary¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait. That works?¡± ¡°Yep. Resets his programing.¡± Mary shook her head. ¡°That¡¯s so stupid.¡± Michael let out a tired chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± Mary gave him a pitying look. ¡°Man, your job sucks.¡± Michael groaned, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Thank you, Mary, I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡± Mary snorted. They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought. Then Mary muttered, ¡°Okay, so¡­ if it¡¯s not just bad programming, then what?¡± Michael drummed his fingers on the table. ¡°I dunno,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I don¡¯t like it.¡± Just as they were about to throw out more theories, Mary''s dad arrived, holding a tray stacked with food. ¡°Alright, kids,¡± he said, setting the tray down. ¡°Eat.¡± Michael blinked as Tom slid a burger and fries toward him. ¡°Uh. Thanks?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Tom said. ¡°Figured you two would forget to eat, what with all that very intense conversation going on.¡± Michael and Mary glanced at each other. Then, at the exact same time, they both said, ¡°Work.¡± Tom raised an eyebrow. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°Relax, Dad. It¡¯s fine.¡± Tom sat down, taking a bite of his burger. ¡°Alright. So what¡¯s the work talk about?¡± Mary hesitated. ¡°Uh¡ª¡± ¡°Animatronics,¡± Michael said simply, grabbing a fry. Tom nodded slowly. ¡°Mm-hm.¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°We were just comparing notes. Y¡¯know, seeing if our jobs are equally terrible.¡± Tom smirked. ¡°And?¡± Mary grinned. ¡°His is worse.¡± Michael groaned. Tom chuckled. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± Michael exhaled. ¡°Look, we were just trying to figure out why our animatronics have been acting¡­ off.¡± Tom hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Huh.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± Tom shrugged. ¡°Well, if I had to guess, I¡¯d say sabotage.¡± Michael and Mary both paused. ¡°¡­What?¡± Mary asked. Tom leaned back in his chair. ¡°It¡¯s not unheard of. A few years ago, there was a case of some jackass reprogramming animatronics at a rival restaurant to mess with their system.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°To make their restaurant seem safer,¡± Tom said simply. ¡°If your competition has tech problems, parents start taking their kids elsewhere.¡± Mary stared. Michael blinked. ¡°¡­Huh.¡± Mary narrowed her eyes. ¡°Wait. So you¡¯re saying that someone could be screwing with our animatronics on purpose?¡± Tom shrugged. ¡°Could be.¡± Michael tapped his fingers against the table. ¡°But who would even do that? Freddy¡¯s and Candy¡¯s are already the biggest names in the industry.¡± Mary crossed her arms. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s not like we have any rivals.¡± Michael thought for a moment. Then his brain caught up. Wait. What if¡­ Michael exhaled. ¡°Okay. Crazy thought, but¡ª¡± Mary frowned. ¡°But what?¡± Michael hesitated. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Did we do it to each other?¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Wait. What?¡± Michael leaned forward. ¡°Think about it. What if someone from Freddy¡¯s messed with Candy¡¯s? And what if someone from Candy¡¯s messed with Freddy¡¯s?¡± Mary stared. ¡°¡­No way,¡± she said. Michael shrugged. ¡°It makes sense.¡± Mary shook her head. ¡°No. That¡¯s insane.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is it?¡± Mary hesitated. Tom took a sip of his drink. ¡°Well. That¡¯s a fun theory.¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Dad, please.¡± Tom smirked. ¡°What? It¡¯s interesting.¡± Mary shot Michael a look. ¡°Great. Now you¡¯ve got my dad on board with your conspiracy theory.¡± Michael grinned. ¡°What? It''s just a theory.¡± Mary groaned again. Tom chuckled. ¡°Look, I¡¯m just saying¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be the first time companies tried to sabotage each other.¡± Michael exhaled. ¡°Yeah, but still.¡± Tom leaned back. ¡°Well. Whatever the case, something is wrong with both of your places.¡± Michael and Mary exchanged a look. That much, at least, they already knew.
After finishing their food, Tom wandered off to look at the self-driving car exhibit, leaving Michael and Mary alone again. Mary leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. ¡°I really hope your theory is wrong.¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°Same.¡± Mary sighed. ¡°Ugh. I don¡¯t like this.¡± Michael smirked. ¡°Welcome to my life.¡± Mary snorted. Michael exhaled, stretching. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll just have to see what happens.¡± Mary groaned. ¡°God, that¡¯s the worst answer.¡± Michael grinned. ¡°I know.¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°I hate you.¡± Michael chuckled. ¡°No, you don¡¯t.¡± Mary scowled. Michael just smirked. Mary groaned. ¡°Ugh. I really hope this isn¡¯t sabotage.¡± Michael leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. ¡°Yeah. ¡®Cause if it is¡­¡± He glanced at Mary. ¡°¡­Then whoever did it really screwed up.¡± Mary¡¯s expression darkened slightly. ¡°Yeah.¡± That was an understatement. Night 0 Michael
Michael had been working at Freddy Fazbear¡¯s Pizza long enough to know one thing: nothing good ever happened when management and cops were in the same room. So, naturally, when he arrived at the restaurant early for his shift, walked into the main area, and saw both Karl and Ralph overseeing the disassembly of Mangle and Balloon Boy, his first instinct was to turn around and pretend he didn¡¯t see shit. Unfortunately, Karl spotted him before he could make his escape. ¡°Afton!¡± Michael sighed and trudged over. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Karl, the manager of Freddy¡¯s and Michael¡¯s surprisingly competent boss, gestured toward the technicians currently taking apart Mangle¡¯s mess of wires and limbs. ¡°Cops finally said they got all the evidence they needed. They only want some of Mangle¡¯s parts for the report, so we¡¯re making sure she doesn¡¯t activate at twelve A.M. again.¡± Michael glanced at the half-disassembled animatronic, its creepy, twitching endoskeleton more exposed than usual. ¡°Good call.¡± ¡°Damn right, good call,¡± Ralph¡ªbetter known as Phone Guy¡ªgrumbled from where he was standing beside Karl. ¡°Thing gave me a heart attack more than once. Never should¡¯ve replaced Foxy with it.¡± Michael smirked. ¡°And Balloon Boy?¡± Ralph scowled in the animatronic¡¯s direction. ¡°That little bastard can burn for all I care.¡± Michael chuckled but didn¡¯t disagree. ¡°Afton, come here for a sec,¡± Karl said, clapping Michael on the back and steering him toward his office. Michael frowned, following him inside. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Karl shut the door behind them, leaned against his desk, and studied him for a moment before sighing. ¡°You¡¯re a great employee, Mike,¡± Karl said, folding his arms. ¡°Seriously. You¡¯ve handled this night shift better than most. Better than even the boss when he did it back in the day.¡± Michael blinked, surprised. ¡°Uh¡­ thanks?¡± Karl exhaled. ¡°Yeah, well. That¡¯s kinda the problem.¡± Michael immediately stiffened. Oh, shit. This was it. He was getting fired. Karl must¡¯ve seen the panic flash across his face because he quickly held up a hand. ¡°Relax. You¡¯re not fired.¡± Michael¡¯s shoulders loosened slightly. ¡°Could¡¯ve led with that.¡± Karl snorted. ¡°Maybe, but where¡¯s the fun in that?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°So what¡¯s the problem?¡± Karl hesitated. Then¡ª ¡°Look. Corporate is trying to clean up Fazbear¡¯s reputation, right?¡± Michael nodded slowly. ¡°Well,¡± Karl continued, rubbing the back of his neck, ¡°having the son of the co-founder who as far as the news and public are aware killed his brother accident or not working here directly isn¡¯t the best look.¡± Michael froze. For a moment, all he could hear was the phantom sound of Fredbear¡¯s jaws snapping shut. Karl noticed but didn¡¯t say anything. He just sighed. ¡°Mike¡­ it¡¯s not you. You¡¯ve done nothing wrong. It¡¯s just¡ªyour name.¡± Michael swallowed. ¡°So what? If I am not getting fired? Then what? Are you making me quit?¡± Karl shook his head. ¡°Nope.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Karl smirked. ¡°You¡¯re getting promoted.¡± Michael stared at him. ¡°¡­What.¡± Karl chuckled. ¡°Okay, technically, it¡¯s a transfer. You¡¯re gonna be night guard at a Fazbear-owned warehouse.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°Wait. Warehouse? What warehouse?¡± Karl shrugged. ¡°One of many. They¡¯re moving everything there before Freddy¡¯s transitions to a new location.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°And no animatronics?¡± Karl grinned. ¡°No animatronics.¡± Michael narrowed his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± Karl smirked. ¡°You gotta finish a few more shifts here first. We¡¯re moving all the animatronics that were not scraping to the new location in the next three weeks.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Figures.¡± Karl clapped a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Hey, cheer up, kid. You get one more paycheck, then you never have to deal with Freddy and his gang ever again.¡± Michael hummed, unconvinced.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Something about this felt off. Still, it was better than getting fired. He exhaled. ¡°Alright. Guess I¡¯ll take it.¡± Karl grinned. ¡°Good man.¡± As Michael processed his not-firing-but-also-not-promotion, Karl leaned back against his desk and studied him. Then he smirked. ¡°By the way...What¡¯s her name?¡± Michael blinked. ¡°What?¡± Karl raised an eyebrow. ¡°The girl. There is a girl, right? You got that ¡®I¡¯ve been talking to someone interesting¡¯ look since you got here..¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Jesus Christ.¡± Karl grinned. ¡°C¡¯mon, tell your old boss. What¡¯s she like?¡± Michael groaned. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Her name¡¯s Mary.¡± Karl¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°And?¡± ¡°And we work the same shift,¡± Michael said flatly. Karl grinned. ¡°Oh-ho. A coworker romance?¡± Then he paused. "Wait no there isn''t a Mary working here unless Ralph forgot to mention a new hire." Michael groaned. ¡°No. She works at Candy¡¯s.¡± Karl froze. His smirk vanished. He blinked. ¡°¡­You¡¯re dating the competition?¡± Michael choked. ¡°I am not dating her!¡± Karl burst out laughing. Michael groaned. Karl wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°Jesus, kid. First you keep pranking me at the last location, now this? You love making my job harder, huh?¡± Michael huffed. ¡°It¡¯s not like that. We are just¡­ Friends. We just compared notes about the Night Shift.¡± Karl raised an eyebrow. ¡°Compared notes?¡± Michael hesitated. Then he told him. Everything. About the weird animatronic behavior. About how both Freddy¡¯s and Candy¡¯s were experiencing it. About Mary¡¯s dad¡äs theory. About the possible sabotage. Karl stopped laughing. By the time Michael finished, Karl was staring at him with an unreadable expression. ¡°¡­Alright,¡± Karl muttered, rubbing his chin. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ something.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°You believe me?¡± Karl exhaled. ¡°Look, kid. I like you, but I also like my job. So, I gotta be careful about what I do and don¡¯t listen to.¡± Michael clenched his jaw. ¡°But you do think something¡¯s wrong.¡± Karl sighed. ¡°Look, Mike¡­ if what you¡¯re saying is true¡­¡± He hesitated. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Maybe Jeremy¡¯s fate wasn¡¯t an accident.¡± Michael stiffened. Karl muttered something under his breath. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Maybe that¡¯s why those kids¡ª¡± He stopped himself. Michael froze. He knew that tone. That hesitation. It was the same hesitation Michael had when he said something that would upset dad. Karl had almost said something he wasn¡¯t supposed to say. Something important. Michael¡¯s stomach twisted. Karl exhaled. ¡°Alright. Get ready for your shift, kid.¡± Michael narrowed his eyes. ¡°Karl¡ª¡±
¡°I¡¯ve got phone calls to make.¡± Michael wanted to press. Wanted to demand answers. But Karl¡¯s expression was firm. The conversation was over. For now. Michael clenched his jaw, turned, and walked toward the security office. But as he did, one thought burned in his mind¡ª Something worse was going on. And Karl knew it.
Mary
Mary stared out the car window, watching the dimly lit streets blur past. Her dad, hands steady on the wheel, let out a sigh. ¡°Still no news on your car.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°Figures.¡± It had been days, and still, no one had found Rusty. She had long since resigned herself to the fact that some asshole was probably joyriding it into a ditch somewhere. Her dad glanced at her. ¡°You should report it again.¡± ¡°I did report it,¡± Mary muttered. ¡°Not like they¡¯re gonna do anything.¡± Her dad hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Want me to drive you tomorrow too?¡± Mary shook her head. ¡°Nah. I¡¯ll figure something out.¡± Her dad gave her a skeptical look but didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he slowed the car as they pulled up to the empty parking lot of Candy¡¯s Burgers & Fries. The neon sign flickered slightly, casting a sickly blue glow onto the pavement. The building looked normal¡ªjust a restaurant at rest, waiting for another busy day. But Mary knew better. She always did. Her dad parked the car and turned toward her. ¡°You sure about this job, Mary?¡± Mary sighed. ¡°Dad¡ª¡± ¡°I know you like to act tough,¡± he said. ¡°But something¡¯s been bugging you. You can talk to me.¡± Mary clenched her jaw. She wanted to tell him. Tell him about the way she felt like her life was in danger. Tell him about the cold, crawling feeling that settled in her gut every night. Tell him that she wasn¡¯t just being paranoid. Tell him that she still remembered the Factory. But instead, she forced a grin and said, ¡°Relax, Dad. I got this.¡± He didn¡¯t look convinced. But he nodded. ¡°Alright,¡± he said. ¡°Be careful.¡± Mary opened the car door. ¡°Always am.¡± Her dad snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a lie.¡± Mary smirked and stepped out into the cold night air. ¡°See you in the morning.¡± With that, she shut the door and walked toward the building. She didn¡¯t look back.
11:59 PM
Mary pushed open the employee entrance, stepping into the dimly lit back hallway. Candy¡¯s after-hours always had a weird feeling to it¡ªtoo quiet, too still, like the walls were waiting for something. She scanned the restaurant. No one. She was alone. At least, she thought she was. Because for a split second, just at the edge of her vision¡ª Something moved. Mary froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the darkness near the arcade machines. Nothing. The shadows stared back at her, empty. Mary swallowed hard, shaking it off. Tired. You¡¯re just tired. She forced herself forward, heading straight to her office. As soon as she stepped inside¡ª The lights went out. Just another night in hell.
5:58 AM Mary hated this job. It was 5 AM. She was running low on power. And the animatronics would not leave her the hell alone. She watched the cameras, fingers twitching over the buttons, breathing shallowly. The stage was empty. The halls were not. Candy was too close. Chester was lingering. Cindy was in the damn doorway again. Her power was at 4%. Mary swore under her breath, slamming a button to shut a door. One more hour. Just few more minutes. She flicked through the cameras, checking the back rooms, the arcade, the¡ª She froze. A door was cracked open. Something was behind it. Something watching her. Then¡ª The door creaked further open. And peeking through, illuminated by the dim emergency lights¡ª The Rat. Mary stopped breathing. No. No. No. She hadn¡¯t seen that thing in years. It wasn¡¯t here anymore. It wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. So why was it staring at her? Her fingers wouldn¡¯t move. Her brain was screaming at her to do something¡ªclose a door, check another camera, anything¡ªbut she couldn¡¯t. Because all she could hear was the faint, faint whisper of memory¡ª The factory. The screams. The blood. And then¡ª The Power ran out. The office door slammed open. Candy stepped inside. The lights flickered. Candy stood in the doorway, his glowing eyes locking onto her. Mary¡¯s breath hitched. She was too slow. Too late. She tried to shove herself backward, but Candy¡¯s hand shot forward. Metal fingers curled around her head. And then¡ª The factory. Blood on the floor. Screaming. So much screaming. Her fault. Her fault. HER FAULT. She was just supposed to stay awake. She fell asleep. And then¡ª 6 AM. The chime rang through the restaurant. Candy¡¯s grip loosened. He let go. Stepped back. Turned. And walked away. Mary sat there, frozen on the floor, staring at the ceiling, gasping for breath. Her hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking. The factory. The blood. The screams. It was happening again. It was never going to stop. Tears slipped down her face as she curled into herself, pressing her hands against her head, whispering over and over¡ª ¡°I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.¡± But no one was there to hear her. No one ever was. Interlude I: Ripples Dan
Daniel ¡°Dan¡± Roberts, CEO of Fazbear Entertainment, was in the middle of a very good evening. The lights were dim, the wine was expensive, and the woman sitting across from him was definitely an upgrade from his ex-wife. She laughed at his jokes. She actually listened when he talked. She was a big fan of men in power¡ªexactly the kind of company Dan enjoyed keeping. Then his damn phone rang. He ignored it. It rang again. He scowled, glancing at the number. Karl. Jesus. It was almost midnight. ¡°This better be good,¡± Dan muttered, picking up the call. ¡°You do know what time it is, right?¡± From the other end, Karl let out a dry chuckle. ¡°Yeah, boss, I know. Sorry to interrupt your business meeting.¡± Dan smirked. ¡°You have no idea.¡± The woman across from him raised an eyebrow. He winked at her. Karl sighed. ¡°Alright, listen. This is serious. You¡¯re gonna want to hear this.¡± Don exhaled through his nose. ¡°Make it quick, Karl. Some of us actually enjoy our success.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, just shut up and listen.¡± Karl started talking once again about the animatronics. The guy was seriously obsessed with them. At first, Dan barely registered it, only half-listening as he tapped his fingers on the table. Then¡ª Karl mentioned that it wasn¡¯t just Freddy¡¯s. That Candy¡¯s animatronics were also acting weird. Dan stopped smirking. He straightened in his chair, brain shifting into CEO mode. ¡°Say that again,¡± Dan said. Karl repeated himself. Dan grabbed a notepad and started writing. ¡°Alright,¡± Dan muttered. ¡°You got my attention.¡±
As Karl finished explaining, Dan nodded along, quickly jotting down the key points. Dan narrowed his eyes. ¡°And who came up with this theory?¡± ¡°One of my employees,¡± Karl said. Dan grunted. ¡°Which one?¡± Karl hesitated. ¡°Does it matter?¡± he asked carefully. Dan paused. Did it? He didn¡¯t know the guy or gal or whatever. He didn¡¯t care. He just needed the information. ¡°¡­No,¡± Dan finally said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Give them extra pay next week. Might as well reward employees for having a brain.¡± Karl chuckled. ¡°Will do.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Dan said. ¡°Anything else?¡± ¡°Not from me,¡± Karl replied. ¡°But you might wanna make some calls.¡± Dan sighed. ¡°You love making my life difficult, huh?¡± The bastard laughed. ¡°It¡¯s a gift.¡± Dan rolled his eyes and hung up. He set the notepad down, rubbing his chin. Then he looked at the woman across from him. ¡°Give me a few more minutes, sweetheart,¡± he said smoothly. ¡°Gotta handle some real business.¡± She pouted. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t keep me waiting.¡± Dan grinned. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± Then he picked up the phone again. Barry hated late-night calls. Dan knew this. Which was exactly why he dialed the number with zero hesitation. After a few rings, a groggy voice answered. ¡°Dan, I swear to God¡ª¡± ¡°Barry, shut up,¡± Dan said. ¡°We¡¯ve got a situation.¡± There was a pause. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Jesus, Dan. It¡¯s midnight.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, cry about it later,¡± Dan said. ¡°This is important.¡± Barry sighed. ¡°Alright. What is it?¡± Don leaned forward. ¡°Sabotage.¡± Barry immediately sounded more awake. ¡°Explain,¡± he said. Dan explained. Barry listened. And by the time Dan was done, Barry was fully awake. ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Barry muttered. Dan smirked. ¡°Told you it was important.¡± Barry sighed. ¡°You sure about this?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Dan admitted. ¡°That¡¯s why we need proof.¡± Barry hummed. ¡°And how do you plan on getting that?¡± Dan grinned. ¡°We hire a PI.¡± Barry exhaled. ¡°Alright, walk me through this.¡± Dan leaned back in his chair. ¡°Simple. We hire someone to check Candy¡¯s. If their animatronics are actually acting up, we¡¯ve got leverage.¡± Barry frowned. ¡°Leverage for what, Dan?¡± Dan smirked. ¡°For control, Barry. If we prove someone messed with our tech, we get to decide how to handle it.¡± Barry sighed. ¡°Jesus.¡± Dan chuckled. ¡°C¡¯mon, Barry. Think big.¡± Barry did not sound amused. ¡°How about we think ethically?¡± Dan waved a hand. ¡°Same thing.¡± Barry groaned. ¡°No. It¡¯s not.¡± Don smirked. ¡°Well, you¡¯re the moral compass of this company. What do you suggest?¡± Barry exhaled. ¡°First, we confirm the theory. Then, we go from there.¡± Dan sighed dramatically. ¡°Fine, fine. Be all reasonable about it.¡± Barry snorted. ¡°Someone has to be.¡± Dan chuckled. ¡°Fair enough.¡± There was a pause. Then Barry muttered, ¡°We should call John.¡± Dan rolled his eyes. ¡°John¡¯s dealing with the construction strike.¡± Barry groaned. ¡°Still?¡± ¡°Yep,¡± Dan said. ¡°And I¡¯m not dragging him into this until we have proof.¡± Barry sighed. ¡°Alright. So we hire a PI.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Dan said. ¡°And once we have answers, we make our move.¡± Barry hesitated. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Alright. Let¡¯s do it.¡± Don grinned. ¡°Glad you¡¯re on board, Barry.¡± Barry sighed. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Now let me sleep.¡± Dan laughed. ¡°Fine. Go dream about saving the company or whatever you do.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Barry hung up. Dan smirked and set his phone down. With his work temporarily finished, Dan stood up, straightened his tie, and walked back to the woman waiting for him. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Done saving the world?¡± Dan grinned. ¡°For tonight.¡± She smirked. ¡°Good. I was getting lonely.¡± Dan sat back down, smoothly wrapping an arm around her. ¡°You know me, sweetheart,¡± he said. ¡°Always multitasking.¡± She chuckled. ¡°You are a busy man.¡± Dan smirked. ¡°The busiest.¡± And just like that, he put the company out of his mind. For now.
David
David Carter had seen a lot of messed-up things in his lifetime. War. Loss. The kind of memories that didn¡¯t fade, no matter how much time passed. But somehow, walking into Candy¡¯s Burgers & Fries in the early morning and seeing a security guard curled up on the office floor, shaking, was still enough to send a chill down his spine. He had come here tonight for a routine check-in. To see how things were running. To make sure the place wasn¡¯t falling apart. To quietly confirm the rumors he¡¯d been hearing about the animatronics acting strange. He hadn¡¯t expected this. The junior manager¡ªPaul, a nervous guy in his late twenties¡ªwas already rushing forward. ¡°Jesus, Mary¡ªare you okay?¡± David followed at a slower pace, his eyes scanning the scene. The girl¡ªMary, apparently¡ªwas pressed against the office wall, knees tucked to her chest, breathing ragged and shallow. Panic attack. David had seen it before. He had felt it before. And he knew damn well that pushing her wasn¡¯t going to help. So, instead, he crouched down a few feet away and spoke softly. ¡°You with us, kid?¡± Mary didn¡¯t respond. Didn¡¯t even look at him. David exhaled through his nose. Alright. Slow approach. Paul was hovering nervously, unsure of what to do. David shot him a look. Back off. Paul got the message and took a step away. Then David turned back to Mary. ¡°Listen to me, kid,¡± he said, voice steady. ¡°You¡¯re safe. You¡¯re here. Breathe with me.¡± No response. David inhaled. Exhaled. Slow. Steady. Mary didn¡¯t match it¡ªnot at first¡ªbut eventually, her breathing hitched, then stumbled, then slowly started evening out. David nodded. ¡°That¡¯s it. Good.¡± Mary¡¯s fingers twitched. Progress. He kept his tone calm, and gentle. ¡°You hear me, kid?¡± Mary blinked. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Yeah.¡± Her voice was hoarse. David exhaled, relieved. ¡°Good. That¡¯s good.¡± Mary swallowed hard, glancing around like she was trying to ground herself. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m¡ª¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to explain,¡± David cut in. ¡°Just breathe.¡± Mary clenched her jaw but nodded. Paul, still hovering, hesitated. ¡°What¡­ what happened?¡± David shot him another look. Later. Paul nodded quickly and backed off again. David turned back to Mary. She was still shaking, but the panic was fading. He studied her for a moment, then sighed. ¡°You¡¯re taking the next few nights off.¡± Mary¡¯s head snapped up. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡± ¡°That¡¯s an order,¡± David said firmly. Mary scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Not a debate.¡± Mary clenched her jaw, looking ready to argue. David just raised an eyebrow. ¡°You got someone to drive you home?¡± Mary exhaled sharply. ¡°Yeah. My dad.¡± David nodded. ¡°Good.¡± Mary groaned, dragging a hand down her face. ¡°I really don¡¯t need¡ª¡± ¡°You do,¡± David interrupted. ¡°And you will.¡± Mary scowled but didn¡¯t argue this time. David stood up, stretching his back. ¡°You remind me of my kids,¡± he muttered. Were all teens so stubborn these days? Mary blinked, caught off guard. ¡°Huh?¡± David just shook his head. ¡°Go home, kid.¡± Mary hesitated. Then¡ªreluctantly¡ªshe pushed herself up and walked out of the office. Paul followed, muttering something about getting her stuff. David stayed behind. And as soon as they were gone¡ª He turned to the monitor. David sat down in Mary¡¯s chair, cracked his knuckles, and tapped the keyboard. The security system beeped softly. The screen flickered. The footage rewound. And David Carter watched. Watched the cameras switch feeds. Watched the animatronics moving. Watched as¡ª His breath hitched. The Rat. Peeking through a door. David¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°¡­Son of a bitch.¡±
Veronica
Veronica Afton was, above all things, a woman who valued order. The house was clean. The bills were paid. The family functioned. Or at least it looked like it did. She sat at the dining room table, a cup of tea in her hands, watching her husband, William Afton, as he flipped through a stack of papers. William rarely spoke when he was focused¡ªhis mind always turning, always somewhere else¡ªbut tonight, he was distracted. And Veronica knew why. ¡°So,¡± she said, stirring her tea. ¡°Michael¡¯s seeing a girl.¡± William didn¡¯t look up. ¡°Mm.¡± Veronica raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s all you have to say?¡± William flipped another page. ¡°He¡¯s seventeen. It¡¯s expected.¡± Veronica pursed her lips. Michael was eighteen. ¡°Expected, maybe. Surprising? Definitely.¡± William exhaled through his nose. ¡°Didn¡¯t think the boy had it in him?¡± ¡°Did you?¡± William finally glanced at her, amused. ¡°I don¡¯t think about it.¡± Veronica sighed, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Well, I do. Maybe he¡¯ll move out soon.¡± William hummed. Veronica hoped he would. She hated looking at Michael. Every time she did, she saw Evan¡¯s shadow. Saw the way her youngest son¡¯s eyes had begged for help before¡ª She pushed the thought away, taking another sip of tea. William, oblivious to her turmoil, returned to his papers. ¡°Did you meet her?¡± Veronica asked. William shook his head. ¡°No. But Jack saw her.¡± Veronica scoffed. ¡°Jack is a pothead.¡± William smirked. ¡°He is.¡± Veronica exhaled. ¡°Well, I hope it goes well. I¡¯d like some peace in this house.¡± William didn¡¯t comment. But then again¡ªhe never did. Eventually the conversation drifted, shifting to Afton Robotics. Veronica, as always, asked how things were going. And¡ªunusually¡ªWilliam answered. ¡°The investors are finally seeing the potential of my technology,¡± he said, setting his papers down. ¡°They were skeptical at first, but I made them understand.¡± Veronica smiled. ¡°Should I be jealous?¡± William frowned. ¡°Of what?¡± Veronica chuckled. ¡°Of the investors, dear.¡± William stared at her, completely missing the joke. Veronica sighed. ¡°Never mind.¡± She loved William. Truly, she did. But sometimes, he felt¡­ distant. Like he was speaking to her from behind a thick pane of glass, always just a little too far away. But that was fine. He was brilliant. He had plans. And she believed in him. That was enough. ¡°Elizabeth¡¯s recital is next week,¡± Veronica reminded him. William nodded. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Will you be there?¡± William hesitated. ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± he said. Veronica frowned. ¡°Try?¡± William sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°There¡¯s a lot going on, Veronica.¡± ¡°She¡¯ll be devastated if you don¡¯t show.¡± William exhaled. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Veronica pressed her lips together but let it go. Elizabeth adored her father. And William¡­ well. He adored her back. In his own way.
An hour later the landline rang. William stood, walking over to pick it up. ¡°Afton residence,¡± he said smoothly. Then¡ªhis posture changed. Veronica noticed it immediately. ¡°¡­Father,¡± William said stiffly. Veronica straightened. James Afton. William rarely spoke about his father. And when he did, it was always with measured words. The conversation was short. Awkward. Filled with William¡¯s clipped ¡°Yes¡± and ¡°Of course¡±, followed by long silences. Then¡ª ¡°You and Mum will be coming to visit?¡± William asked as his fingers tightened around the phone. Then¡ª ¡°¡­Understood.¡± The line went dead. William hung up. Then¡ªquietly¡ª He cursed. Veronica blinked. ¡°William¡ª¡± ¡°I need a drink,¡± he muttered, walking away. Veronica watched him go. And for the first time in a long time¡ª She wondered if she truly knew him at all.
Candy the Cat
The Junior Manager was staring again. Candy didn¡¯t like it. Not that Candy could actually like or dislike anything. But deep inside, beneath the carefully crafted layers of pre-recorded voice lines and child-friendly scripts, something else stirred. She didn¡¯t like it. Candy¡¯s optical sensors registered another presence. CEO DETECTED. The taller man. The one in charge. The one that gave Candy the look. Candy really didn¡¯t like the look. But Candy was designed to perform, so when his activation sequence was initiated, he did what he was programmed to do. He booted up. His servos whirred, limbs clicking into place as his eyes flickered to life. He smiled. ¡°Hi, kids!¡± Candy moved through his morning performance routine, running through his scripted lines and movements. The Junior Manager watched closely, checking for errors. The CEO watched closer, checking for something else. Candy sang. Candy waved. Candy entertained. Everything was normal. Except¡­ Deep within his programming, something boiled with frustration. So close. I was so close. The security guard had been right there. Vulnerable. Weak. She had been breaking. But she took too long. No matter. One more night. Maybe two. And then¡ª Then it would be over. The whispers inside Candy¡¯s head stirred. The Guard was slipping. Sooner or later, she and her brother would be free. Candy was mid-step when something shifted. The world seemed to slow. A familiar, terrible presence entered the room. The Predator. Candy stopped moving. His sensors registered nothing. No human-shaped figures. No programmed stimuli. But Candy knew. It was there. A shadow at the edge of his vision. The Predator. It wasn¡¯t like the children. It wasn¡¯t like the ones that whispered, the ones that lingered. No. The Predator was different. Older. Wrong. Candy¡¯s sensory units twitched. He turned his head, staring directly at the figure only she could see. Across the room, the Junior Manager shifted nervously. ¡°Uh¡­ sir?¡± The CEO didn¡¯t answer. Candy kept staring. The Predator stared back. Then¡ªwithout a word¡ªit turned and slunk back to its room. And Candy¡ª Candy resumed his routine. But¡ª The kids are still crying. The CEO turned to the Junior Manager. ¡°How long?¡± The Junior Manager blinked. ¡°Sir?¡± The CEO didn¡¯t look away from Candy. ¡°How long have they been moving at night?¡± The Junior Manager swallowed. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± The CEO¡äs eyes narrowed. Candy continued his routine, sensors tracking, movements fluid. Candy finished his routine. The Junior Manager scribbled notes. The CEO remained silent. Inside, the whispers stirred again. The voice was restless. Candy¡¯s programming responded the only way it knew how. With a carefully scripted line¡ªone that was meant to soothe children. A line that was never meant for this. But Candy said it anyway. Not to the other animatronics. Not to the adults. To her. "Don¡¯t worry, little buddy¡­ everything¡¯s going to be okay." And for a moment¡ª The whispers went silent. The Party Mary
Mary stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, wide awake. She had tried to sleep. Really, she had. She¡¯d turned off the lights, buried herself under the covers, and willed herself to pass out. But her brain wasn¡¯t cooperating. Because her sleep schedule? Completely. Fucked. Too many night shifts. Too many close calls. Too many nights of sitting in a dark office, listening to the hum of old machinery and wondering if she¡¯d make it to sunrise. Now that she was off duty she was just lying here, staring at the ceiling like some kind of insomniac zombie. She groaned, rubbing her eyes. It wasn¡¯t even that late. Barely past eleven. But for her? It was prime working hours. Her body still expected the dull glow of security cameras. The distant whir of animatronics. The cold hum of a dying power supply. But instead, there was just silence. And Mary hated it. She sat up, tossing her blanket aside. No way in hell I¡¯m staying here all night.
Mary threw on a jacket and grabbed her Walkman, stepping out into the cool autumn night. The streets of Hurricane, Utah, were quiet. Most of the city had long since settled in for the night, but Mary had spent too much time awake to ever feel comfortable in that silence. She shoved her hands into her pockets and sighed. I need a drink. Unfortunately, she was only eighteen. And thanks to the National Minimum Drinking Age Act, she couldn¡¯t legally drink until she was twenty-one. Not that it changed much in Utah. It always had that drinking age. The only change was that she and her dad moved back. Still, it was: ¡°Bullshit,¡± Mary muttered under her breath. Seriously. She could vote, she could work herself to death, but God forbid she have a damn drink. She kicked a loose rock down the sidewalk, scowling. Then¡ª A memory surfaced. Kelly Something. A girl from her school. Someone who threw parties constantly. And, most importantly¡ª Someone who had very strongly implied that said parties involved alcohol and weed. Mary stopped walking. Considered. Technically, she could go. She wasn¡¯t working. She wasn¡¯t sleeping. And she really needed a distraction. Then again what if cops busted it? It wouldn''t be the first time she got arrested. But what about¡ª The factory. Blood on concrete. Screams in the dark. Her fault. Mary swallowed hard. Then¡ªquietly¡ªshe muttered, ¡°Fuck it.¡± She turned on her heel and headed toward Kelly¡¯s house.
Kelly lived in one of the richer parts of town¡ªbig houses, manicured lawns, the kind of places that made you wonder how the hell anyone in this city had money. When Mary arrived, she could already hear music blasting through the walls. She knocked. Hard so they would hear her. After a few seconds, the door swung open. Kelly stood there, wearing an oversized sweater, a drink in one hand, and a very surprised expression on her face. ¡°¡­Mary Schmidt?¡± Mary smirked. ¡°Hey, Kelly.¡± Kelly blinked, then laughed. ¡°Did not expect you to show up.¡± Mary shrugged. ¡°Yeah, well. I had the night off.¡± Kelly grinned, stepping aside. ¡°Well, come in! You¡¯re just in time.¡± Mary stepped inside, the warmth and noise of the party swallowing her whole.
Mary was hammered. Like, absolutely, completely, falling off the wagon, hammered. She hadn¡¯t meant to get this drunk. Really. She¡¯d just been pacing herself, sipping on the party punch like a responsible adult (even though she wasn¡¯t technically an adult yet, thanks to the stupid National Minimum Drinking Age Act). But somehow¡ªsomewhere along the way¡ªthings had gotten fuzzy. Kelly was talking. Or maybe someone else was talking? Whatever. Mary was so warm. She turned to Kelly and hugged her. Like, full-body, arms-wrapped-tight, clinging-to-her-like-a-koala hug. Kelly froze. Like, completely froze. Mary sighed against her shoulder. ¡°You are so nice, Kelly.¡± Kelly made a weird choking noise. Mary didn¡¯t notice. She just swayed in place, squeezing tighter. ¡°Like, so nice. I¡¯m really glad you invited me.¡± Kelly made another strangled sound. Somewhere behind her, someone muttered, ¡°Uh¡­ was Schmidt always a hugger?¡± Another voice: ¡°Didn¡¯t think she was a drinker either.¡± Kelly, still stiff as a board, finally managed to pry Mary off her. ¡°You, uh¡ªyou okay there, Schmidt?¡± Mary giggled. ¡°Yeaaah. I¡¯m so fine.¡± Kelly gave her a look. ¡°I don¡¯t think you are.¡± Mary waved a hand. ¡°Pshhh. I¡¯m great.¡± Kelly did not look convinced.
Somehow, Mary got roped into Truth or Dare. She wasn¡¯t sure how. One second, she was hugging Kelly. The next, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at some guy who just asked her a question. ¡°¡­Huh?¡± The guy sighed. ¡°I said¡ªhow¡¯s your job?¡± Mary groaned dramatically. ¡°Ohhh my GOD,¡± she said, throwing her hands up. ¡°Let me tell you about my stupid boss.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Kelly sitting next to her muttered, ¡°Oh no.¡± Mary ignored her. ¡°He benched me,¡± she slurred, gesturing wildly. ¡°Just one panic attack, and BAM! No work for you, Mary!¡± There was a pause. ¡°¡­Wait,¡± someone said. ¡°Your boss benched you for a panic attack?¡± Mary huffed. ¡°Yup.¡± More silence. Kelly shifted uncomfortably (why?). ¡°¡­Uh. Are you okay?¡± ¡°No, no, no, see¡ªsee¡ª¡± Mary hiccupped. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I deserved it.¡± Kelly frowned. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Because, like¡ª¡± Mary squinted. ¡°Because. Y¡¯know. The factory.¡± ¡°¡­What?¡± Mary nodded very seriously. ¡°The factory,¡± she repeated. More silence. ¡°The hell does that mean?¡± someone whispered. Mary took another sip of her drink¡ªexcept she had no drink, so she just air-sipped before continuing. ¡°It was so bad,¡± she muttered. ¡°Blood everywhere. Screaming. My fault.¡± The room shifted. The mood shifted. Mary just kept rambling. ¡°Should¡¯ve stayed awake,¡± she slurred. ¡°Could¡¯ve stopped it.¡± Kelly stared. ¡°¡­What the fuck?¡± someone whispered. Kelly clapped her hands together. ¡°OKAY! Next question!¡± ¡°Hot boys,¡± one girl declared cueing the many groans from the guys. ¡°That¡¯s what we need to talk about.¡± Mary perked up. ¡°Oh! I know a hot boy.¡± Kelly sighed in relief¡ªuntil Mary kept going. ¡°Michael Afton.¡± Kelly stared. ¡°Seriously?¡± someone muttered while others coughed into their hands or started to drink their beers or whatever... Mary pointed at Kelly. ¡°No, listen! He¡¯s¡ªhe¡¯s all like mysterious and broody and he wears a leather jacket¡ª¡± Kelly groaned louder. ¡°Oh my God¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªand like, he¡¯s actually really nice?¡± Mary continued, oblivious. ¡°But like, he doesn¡¯t know it.¡± Some bitch snorted. ¡°Sounds like an emo loser.¡± Mary gasps. ¡°NO.¡± Everyone stared. Mary wobbled. ¡°He¡¯s¡ªhe¡¯s like, actually really cool. And he listens to me.¡± Kelly rolled her eyes. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve got a crush, Schmidt.¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°Nooo.¡± Kelly raised an eyebrow. Mary wobbled harder. ¡°He¡¯s just¡ªhe¡¯s just nice, okay?¡± Kelly smirked. ¡°Right. And I think Winona Ryder is nice.¡± Mary squinted. ¡°¡­But she¡¯s not a man.¡± Kelly blinked. The entire room went silent. Kelly stared at Mary. Mary stared back. ¡°¡­Holy shit your wasted,¡± Kelly muttered. Then¡ª She yanked Mary¡¯s bottle out of her hands. Kelly examined the bottle. Then her expression shifted. ¡°¡­Wait.¡± She sniffed it. Frowned. Then¡ªrealization. Her head snapped up. ¡°GODDAMMIT, FRANK! AGAIN?!¡± Across the room, a guilty-looking dude flinched. ¡°What?¡± he said weakly. Kelly stormed toward him. ¡°You spiked the punch AGAIN?!¡± Frank raised his hands. ¡°I thought it¡¯d be funny!¡± Kelly threw the bottle at his head. Frank ducked. ¡°JESUS, WOMAN¡ª¡± Kelly turned back to Mary, exasperated. ¡°Okay. Okay. Schmidt? Listen to me.¡± Mary wobbled. Kelly grabbed her shoulders. ¡°You are so drunk.¡± Mary blinked slowly. ¡°Noooooo.¡± Kelly sighed.
Michael.
Michael was having a perfectly good night off when his phone rang. He considered ignoring it. He didn¡¯t owe anyone his free time, and if Ralph was calling to ask him to cover his shift, he was going to tell him to go to hell. It would be a suicide to go inside Freddys anyway. It was 2 AM! But then he saw the number. Kelly. Michael frowned and picked up. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Oh, thank God.¡± Kelly¡¯s voice sounded relieved. ¡°Mike, I need a favor.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°What did you do?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not me, it¡¯s your new little bestie,¡± Kelly said. ¡°Mary Schmidt.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Wait. What?¡± Kelly groaned. ¡°Long story short, she got completely wasted, and I need to get her home. But I don¡¯t have her dad¡¯s number, and you were the only person she wouldn¡¯t shut the hell up about.¡± Michael processed that. Slowly. Mary had gotten drunk¡ªwhich, okay, that was new but then again they only knew each other for a few weeks¡ªand apparently, she¡¯d been talking about him. A lot. Michael sighed, rubbing his temple. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll be there.¡± Kelly sighed. ¡°Thank god.¡±
When Michael arrived at the party, he and Kelly immediately pretended things were awkward as hell. It was routine at this point. After all, as far as everyone here was concerned, they were exes. Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes as a few people shot him pitying looks, while others glared like he¡¯d personally wronged them though that might not have been related. Some just coughed awkwardly, muttering, ¡°This must be weird for you guys.¡± Michael bit back a smirk. If only they knew. Kelly, for all her dramatics, was one of his oldest friends. And, once upon a time, he¡¯d been her beard. Before he¡¯d started working night shifts. Before she¡¯d moved on to Tom, one of their mutual friends. Tom, who¡ªlike Kelly¡ªhad also been there at Fredbear¡¯s Family Diner in 1983 where they made the worst mistake in their lives. Michael didn¡¯t think about that. Instead, he just played along, shoving his hands into his pockets. ¡°Where is she?¡± Kelly sighed. ¡°Living room.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°That bad?¡± Kelly snorted. ¡°See for yourself.¡± Michael found Mary in the living room, watching The Transformers on Kelly¡¯s old TV. She was slumped against the couch, still hammered, surrounded by a group of girls who looked like they¡¯d seen God and He was horrifying. One of them caught sight of Michael and immediately said, ¡°Oh, thank God. Take her.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°What did she do?¡± ¡°She¡ªshe started talking about what would actually happen if you were inside a Transformer when it transformed,¡± one girl said, looking haunted. Another girl shuddered. ¡°It was horrific.¡± A third girl whimpered. ¡°I can¡¯t watch Optimus Prime the same way again.¡± Michael sighed. Yep. That sounded like Mary. She noticed him then, blinking slowly. ¡°Miiiiike!¡± she slurred. Michael sighed. ¡°Yeah, yeah, come on, let¡¯s get you home.¡± Mary pouted. ¡°But¡ªmovie¡ª¡± Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She wobbled immediately. Kelly watched in amusement. ¡°You got this?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah.¡± Kelly smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll drop your bike to your place tomorrow.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t have a license.¡± Kelly grinned. ¡°I won¡¯t give the cops a reason to stop me.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Jesus Christ.¡± Kelly winked and shoved them out the door.
They walked down the quiet streets of Hurricane, Utah, the party¡¯s noise fading behind them. Mary stumbled a few times, and Michael had to grab her by the arm to keep her from face-planting into the pavement. ¡°You¡¯re a disaster,¡± Michael muttered. Mary giggled. ¡°You looove it.¡± Michael ignored that. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Mary suddenly said, ¡°I saw a double murder when I was six.¡± Michael froze. ¡°¡­What?¡± Mary nodded sagely. ¡°Mmmhm.¡± Michael stared. Then¡ªvery quickly¡ªhe changed the subject. ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t your car get stolen?¡± Mary perked up. ¡°YES.¡± Michael exhaled. Crisis averted. ¡°My car,¡± Mary slurred, gesturing dramatically, ¡°was named Rusty.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡± Mary grinned. ¡°Because he was red and old and a piece of shit.¡± Michael snorted. ¡°Fitting.¡± Mary narrowed her eyes. ¡°Did you name your bike?¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°No.¡± Mary gasped. ¡°Mike,¡± she said, grabbing his arm. ¡°That¡¯s not fun.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a bike, Mary.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°You should name it.¡± Michael ignored her. Mary poked his arm. ¡°C¡¯moooon.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°You name it, then.¡± Mary squinted in deep concentration. Then¡ªvery seriously¡ªshe said, ¡°Bob.¡± Michael stared at her. ¡°¡­Bob?¡± Mary nodded proudly. Michael groaned. ¡°That¡¯s the worst name I¡¯ve ever heard.¡± Mary giggled. Michael kept walking. Mary babbled the whole way. Most of it was nonsense. At one point, she giggled and said, ¡°Y¡¯know, Mike, you¡¯ve got really nice arms.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°¡­Uh. Thanks?¡± Mary smirked. ¡°I bet all the girls love them.¡± Michael snorted. ¡°Sure, Mary.¡± Mary grinned. ¡°I mean, I love them.¡± Michael froze. ¡°¡­What?¡± Mary giggled and stumbled forward, grabbing onto his arm. Michael sighed. ¡°Jesus, you¡¯re gonna fall¡ª¡± Mary leaned into him. Michael immediately panicked. But before he could say anything, Mary yawned. Then¡ªsoftly¡ªshe murmured, ¡°This is nice.¡± And then she leaned her head on his shoulder. Michael short-circuited. She was leaning on him. Like it was natural. Like it was normal. Like it wasn¡¯t sending his brain into a full system crash. Michael sat there, stiff as a board, completely frozen. His brain was screaming at him. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING??? Mary, meanwhile, was just relaxing, totally unaware of the absolute chaos she had just caused in his head. He could only continue dragging Mary to her home.
For the record, Michael had never walked a drunk person home before. So, when he finally made it to Mary¡¯s house, half-carrying her up the front steps, he wasn¡¯t exactly sure what to expect. He knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately. And standing there, looking half-exhausted, half-worried, was Mary¡¯s dad. His eyes immediately landed on his barely conscious daughter. Then on Michael. Then back to Mary. ¡°¡­Huh,¡± Tom said, crossing his arms. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect you to bring her home.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Yeah, well. A friend of mine called me to pick her up since she didn''t know your number or where she lived.¡± Tom raised an eyebrow. ¡°That bad?¡± Michael adjusted his grip on Mary. ¡°She was hugging people.¡± Tom¡¯s expression immediately shifted into alarm. ¡°Oh, Jesus,¡± he muttered. ¡°Alright, get her inside.¡± Michael nodded and helped maneuver Mary through the doorway. She laughed as they nearly bumped into a table. ¡°I love you guys,¡± she slurred. Tom sighed. ¡°Yep. She¡¯s gone.¡± Michael couldn¡¯t argue with that.
Getting Mary to her room was a struggle. She was not helping. At one point, she tried to high-five a lamp. At another, she mumbled something about Optimus Prime. Eventually, somehow, they got her onto her bed. Tom adjusted her pillow and sighed. ¡°Y¡¯know, I can¡¯t exactly ground her anymore.¡± Michael nodded. ¡°Probably wouldn''t work.¡± Tom glanced at Mary, who was now muttering to herself about robots. Then he said, ¡°But her hangover tomorrow? Oh, she¡¯s gonna wish she was grounded instead.¡± Mary giggled. Michael just shook his head. ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s screwed.¡± Tom patted Mary¡¯s blanket once, then motioned for Michael to follow him out into the hallway. Once he closed the door to Mary¡äs room, Tom gave Michael a look. Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± Tom folded his arms. ¡°Did she kiss you?¡± Michael stared. ¡°¡­What?!¡± ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Tom said, raising his hands, ¡°sometimes, when people get that drunk, they do stupid things.¡± Michael blinked slowly. ¡°Uh. No.¡± Tom studied him for a moment. Then¡ªnodding¡ªhe said, ¡°Okay. I believe you.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°You were that worried?¡± Tom chuckled. ¡°Nah. Just asking because, y¡¯know. It happened to me.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°Seriously?¡± Tom grinned. ¡°Oh, yeah. Back when I was about your age. A girl got hammered at my going away party, and next thing I know, bam¡ªsudden kiss.¡± Michael snorted. ¡°And?¡± Tom shrugged. ¡°And I married her.¡± Michael stared. Tom grinned wider. ¡°Guess it worked out.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Sounds like it.¡± Tom just patted his shoulder. ¡°Anyways do you need a ride home?¡± Tom asked. Michael shook his head. ¡°Nah. I¡¯ll walk.¡± Tom frowned. ¡°This late?¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°Not like my parents care if I¡¯m home or not.¡± Tom¡¯s expression shifted. He didn¡¯t say anything. But something in the way he looked at Michael made Michael pause. ¡°¡­What?¡± Michael asked. Tom sighed. Then¡ªcasually, but not really¡ªhe said, ¡°How about you stay here tonight?¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Couch is open,¡± Tom said. ¡°Or my bed, if you want something more comfortable.¡± Michael hesitated. It wasn¡¯t a bad offer. And honestly? He was exhausted. ¡°¡­Alright,¡± he finally said. ¡°Thanks.¡± Tom nodded. ¡°No problem.¡± They made their way to Tom¡¯s room, and Tom pushed open the door. Michael stepped inside. Then Tom, almost absentmindedly, added, ¡°Would¡¯ve had you stay in my son¡¯s room, but, uh¡ª¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s locked. He took the key to collage for some reason.¡± Tom clapped his hands. ¡°Anyway! Get some sleep.¡± And with that, he headed to the couch. Michael watched him go. Then¡ªquietly¡ªhe climbed into bed. And for the first time in what felt like forever¡ª He actually fell asleep. The Hangover Mary.
Mary had no idea what happened last night. Which was not great, considering she had just woken up with the worst hangover of her life. Her head throbbed, her mouth tasted like she had eaten sand for hours, and she was pretty sure she had a bruise from either falling or existing too hard. She groaned, rolling over. Bad idea. The sudden movement made her stomach lurch, and for a terrifying second, she thought she was going to vomit right then and there. She swallowed thickly. Okay. Don¡¯t puke. Just¡­ move slowly. It took her far too long to sit up. Her room was a disaster¡ªher shoes were kicked off in two different corners, her jacket was half-on, half-off the bed, and there was a single sock hanging from her lamp. She had no memory of this. ¡°¡­Shit.¡± After managing to drag herself out of bed, Mary stumbled to the bathroom. She got a look at herself in the mirror and immediately regretted it. Her hair? A mess. The little makeup she bothered to put on? Absolutely ruined. Her eyeliner was half-smudged across her face, making her look like a raccoon who had been through a divorce. She groaned but didn¡¯t bother fixing it. Instead, she slowly made her way to the kitchen, barely functioning as a human being.
Her dad was already sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. Michael was there too, leaning against the counter. Mary didn¡¯t register either of them. She zombie-walked straight to the fridge, pulled out a milk carton, and started drinking directly from it. Then¡ª A loud choking noise. She froze mid-sip. Slowly¡ªvery slowly¡ªshe turned. Her dad was red in the face, coughing into his coffee mug. Michael just raised an eyebrow. ¡°¡­What?¡± Mary croaked. Tom cleared his throat. ¡°Nothing.¡± His tone said otherwise. Michael smirked. ¡°Good morning to you too, Schmidt.¡± Mary blinked at him. She processed. Then she realized. Oh my God, Mike is in my kitchen. She nearly choked on the milk. Michael, not noticing her panic, started talking. ¡°Kelly called me last night,¡± he explained. ¡°You were completely wasted, and she didn¡¯t have your dad¡¯s number and you were too drunk to give it, so I had to pick you up.¡± Mary, still recovering from the shock of seeing him, was only half-listening. The other half of her brain was going places. Bad places. Wait. He took me home. Did he¡ª? Did we¡ª?? OH GOD DID I SAY ANYTHING STUPID¡ª Her face went red. Her dad, not saying a word, just took a very loud sip from his coffee. Michael blinked at her. ¡°¡­You okay?¡± Mary, still red, muttered, ¡°Fine.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°You sure? You look¡ªuh¡ªkind of¡ª¡± Dad took another slow sip. Michael shrugged. ¡°¡ªred in the face. You still drunk?¡± Mary nearly died on the spot. She needed to leave. Now. ¡°I¡ªuh¡ªI need a shower,¡± she blurted out, practically running out of the kitchen. As she ran she could hear Micheal ask. ¡°¡­Did I say something?¡± ¡°No, son,¡± Her dad replied. ¡°She¡¯s just realizing things.¡±
The shower was cold. Mary needed it to be cold. She stood under the water, hands braced against the wall, letting it wash over her. Her face was still warm. Because Mike. Mike had taken her home. Mike had stayed the night. Mike had¡ª ¡°NOPE,¡± she said out loud, shaking her head. She needed to think about anything else. Literally. Anything else. She thought about work. She thought about her stolen car. She thought about¡ª The factory. Blood. Screaming. Her fault. She sucked in a breath, eyes snapping open. Her stomach turned. No. Not thinking about that. She squeezed her eyes shut. And, unfortunately, her brain went right back to Mike. She groaned. ¡°¡­Goddamn it.¡± Maybe thinking about him wasn¡¯t the worst thing. At least that didn¡¯t make her want to throw up. She sighed. Then¡ªreluctantly¡ªshe let herself relax. Just for a moment.
Mary had been through a lot in her short life. She had survived childhood trauma, killer animatronics, and working retail which was somehow worse than the previous two things. But nothing¡ªnothing¡ªhad prepared her for having breakfast with Michael after getting drunk last night. She sat at the kitchen table, poking at her food, while her dad and Mike had a perfectly normal conversation about motorcycles like this was a normal day for them. ¡°Runs pretty well,¡± Mike was saying, taking a bite of toast. ¡°Got it from my boss. It¡¯s an old model, but I keep it in good shape.¡± Tom nodded approvingly. ¡°And you got your license, yeah? Or do I need to call the cops?¡± It was a joke. A normal dad joke. But then¡ª ¡°Nah,¡± Mike said casually. ¡°I¡¯m seventeen and I got it before that.¡± Mary froze mid-chew. Her entire brain was short-circuited. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I had bad thoughts about an underage guy. I am going to jail. Again. Mary didn¡¯t hear the rest of the conversation.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. That¡¯s it. I¡¯m done. Game over. It¡¯s over for me. I¡¯ll be a prison cautionary tale. ¡°This is what happens when you drink, kids. You flirt with a minor and get arrested.¡± She was already mentally preparing for court when¡ª "Yeah, my birthday¡¯s next month.¡± Her brain screeched to a halt. Wait. So that meant¡ª In one month, this entire crisis would be irrelevant. Mary took a deep breath, feeling a weird sense of relief. Then she immediately panicked about that too. Why did that stop my panic? Why does that make me feel better? What the hell is wrong with me? She shoved more eggs into her mouth to distract herself. ¡°Oh by the way Mary,¡± Mike continued, completely unaware of Mary¡¯s full-blown existential crisis, ¡°I told the boss about the sabotage theory.¡± Mary choked on her eggs. She coughed violently, grabbing her water. ¡°You what?¡± Mike blinked. ¡°Uh. Told Karl.¡± Mary groaned, rubbing her face. ¡°Oh my God¡ªI should¡¯ve done that too.¡± Mike frowned. ¡°You didn¡¯t?¡± Mary scowled. ¡°I had the CEO right there, and I didn¡¯t say a damn thing.¡± ¡°Mary.¡± She froze. Dad¡¯s voice was stern. ¡°You had a panic attack,¡± he said firmly. ¡°You weren¡¯t in the right headspace to be worrying about sabotage theories.¡± Mike¡¯s entire demeanor shifted. ¡°¡­Wait,¡± he said slowly. ¡°You had a panic attack?¡± Mary winced. Shit. She hadn¡¯t wanted him to know. She had barely wanted her dad to know but the CEO just had to tattle. Mike¡¯s brows furrowed, and suddenly, he had this subtle tension in his shoulders. A quiet shift in his expression. Like he was mentally re-evaluating everything. Like he was going to be paying more attention. Mary didn¡¯t know why, but that made her feel¡­ ¡­better. Dad watched the two of them. He sighed and muttered under his breath, ¡°I need to apologize to dad.¡± Mike glanced at him. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing,¡± Dad said, sipping his coffee. Mary just narrowed her eyes. She did not believe him.
As the conversation and breakfast wrapped up, Dad casually said, ¡°You know, Freddy¡¯s is closer to our house.¡± Mike looked up. ¡°Uh. Yeah?¡± Dad nodded. ¡°And since you¡¯ve got a night shift tonight, you¡¯d probably want to avoid running around all day and tiring yourself out.¡± Mike frowned slightly, considering it. Mary realized what her dad was doing. He was making sure Mike stuck around longer. And it worked. Mike sighed. ¡°I mean¡­ yeah, that makes sense.¡± Tom grinned. Mary sighed. And just like that¡ª Mike wasn¡¯t going anywhere.
Mary was very quickly learning that Michael¡äs animatronics were just as much of a pain in the ass as hers. They sat in her room, leaning against opposite ends of the bed, talking like Dad and his war buddies comparing battle scars. ¡°Blank,¡± Mary said, pointing at Mike for emphasis, ¡°is a menace.¡± Mike raised an eyebrow. ¡°Blank?¡± Mary groaned. ¡°Big-ass animatronic, kids can draw on him. Every single night, he tries to break my goddamn office window.¡± Mike snorted. ¡°What, does he want to file a complaint?¡± ¡°Apparently,¡± Mary muttered. ¡°Every time I hear that banging sound, I want to scream.¡± Mike chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah? Well, at least you have a window.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Huh?¡± Mike leaned forward, grinning. ¡°My office? No doors. Remember?¡± Mary stared. ¡°How are you not dead?¡± Mike sighed. ¡°A Flashlight and A Prayer.¡± Mary laughed, actually feeling bad for him. ¡°Jesus. What do you do when the animatronics come after you?¡± ¡°Freddy mask.¡± ¡°¡­And that works?¡± Mike shrugged. ¡°Most of the time.¡± Mary narrowed her eyes. ¡°Most?¡± Mike sighed dramatically. ¡°Foxy.¡± Mary tilted her head. ¡°The pirate?¡± ¡°The very same.¡± Mike rolled his eyes. ¡°He just sprints down the hallway. No mask works. No doors to shut. Only thing that slows him down is flashing my light in his face.¡± Mary blinked. Then she laughed. ¡°Mike,¡± she said, wheezing, ¡°that¡¯s the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡± Mike grinned. ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡±
After spending way too long roasting their respective animatronics, Mike asked, ¡°Alright, you got a favorite?¡± Mary didn¡¯t even have to think. ¡°The Penguin.¡± Mike blinked. ¡°The what?¡± ¡°The Penguin!¡± Mary grinned, sitting up. ¡°Little guy. Serves as a waiter during the day. He just rolls around, carrying trays, looking adorable.¡± Mike stared. ¡°¡­You have a penguin waiter?¡± Mary nodded enthusiastically. Mike sighed. ¡°Man, I got stuck with Balloon Boy.¡± Mary chuckled. ¡°Sucks to be you.¡± Mike smirked. ¡°Yeah, yeah. What about you? Who¡¯s your least favorite?¡± Mary didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Blank.¡± Mike laughed. ¡°Called it.¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°What about you?¡± Mike leaned back, thinking. ¡°Might sound weird, but¡­ the Marionette.¡± Mary¡¯s smile dropped. Her stomach twisted. ¡°I know that one,¡± she muttered. Mike raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yeah?¡± Mary swallowed. ¡°Yeah. I was there for the grand reopening.¡± Mike tilted his head. ¡°Huh. Small world.¡± Mary forced a smile. ¡°Yeah. Small world.¡± Her fingers twitched. Because she wasn¡¯t thinking about Freddy¡¯s anymore. She was thinking about Vinnie. Before Mike could ask anything else, he paused. Then¡ªslowly¡ªhe said, ¡°By the way¡­ you mentioned something weird last night.¡± Mary froze. ¡°¡­Did I?¡± Mike nodded. ¡°Yeah. Said you saw a double murder when you were six.¡± Mary cursed. ¡°Shit.¡± Mike smirked. ¡°So that wasn¡¯t just drunk talk?¡± Mary sighed, rubbing her temple. ¡°Nope.¡± Mike whistled. ¡°Jesus, Schmidt.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°You ever heard of the Rat & Cat Theater?¡± Mike thought for a moment. ¡°Uh¡­ kind of? Mostly as a footnote in animatronic engineering history. Opened for like, what? A day?¡± Mary nodded. ¡°Yeah. That place.¡± Mike leaned forward. ¡°What happened there?¡± Mary exhaled, staring at her hands. Then, quietly, she said, ¡°An animatronic hurt my brother.¡± Mike blinked. Mary swallowed. ¡°But I wasn¡¯t talking about that theater.¡± Mike tilted his head. ¡°Then what?¡± Mary took a deep breath. Then¡ªsoftly¡ªshe said, ¡°The one before that. No animatronics. Just actors.¡± Mike didn¡¯t say anything. So she kept going. ¡°The theater was small,¡± Mary murmured. ¡°Not a big deal. The main actors were the Cat and the Rat.¡± Mike nodded along. Mary clenched her hands into fists. ¡°But there was one more,¡± she said. ¡°The Puppeteer.¡± Mike frowned. ¡°Puppeteer?¡± Mary nodded. ¡°Had a puppet. Vinnie the Puppet.¡± Mike froze. Mary swallowed. ¡°Looked a lot like the Marionette.¡± Mike¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°You think Fazbear¡¯s stole the design?¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d bet my goddamn life on it.¡± Mike hummed thoughtfully. But Mary wasn¡¯t done. ¡°I was there every day for a week,¡± she whispered. ¡°Every show.¡± Mike stayed silent. Mary stared at the floor. ¡°On the last day,¡± she said, ¡°we were playing hide and seek. All the good hiding spots were taken.¡± Mike already didn¡¯t like where this was going. ¡°The break room was open,¡± she continued. ¡°So I hid there.¡± Her hands shook. ¡°The Rat followed me in.¡± Mary swallowed. ¡°But before he could find me,¡± she whispered, ¡°the Puppeteer actor barged in.¡± Mike¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°They started arguing,¡± Mary continued. ¡°Puppeteer was pissed. Said Rat was drunk.¡± Mike exhaled slowly. ¡°Okay.¡± Mary¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°Then they started fighting.¡± Mary took a deep breath. And then, softly, she said, ¡°Rat died in the struggle.¡± Mike closed his eyes. Mary wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Cats actor walked in.¡± ¡°They started arguing again,¡± she whispered. ¡°Cat wanted to call the cops. Puppeteer didn¡¯t.¡± Her voice shook. ¡°Cat tried to call. Puppeteer strangled him to death.¡± Silence. Just silence. Mike sat there, expression unreadable. Mary took a shaky breath. ¡°¡­It happened because of me.¡± Mike snapped his head up. And suddenly, just like that¡ª He was pissed. Mike glared at her. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit.¡± Mary flinched. ¡°No, it¡¯s not¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Mary clenched her fists. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°You were a kid.¡± Mary¡¯s jaw tightened. Mike leaned forward. ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known what would happen.¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°Mike¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± he cut her off. ¡°You don¡¯t get to blame yourself for shit you had no control over.¡± Mary gritted her teeth. ¡°Then who the hell do I blame?¡± Mike stood up. And then, with a quiet, serious voice, he said: ¡°At least you didn¡¯t kill anyone with your own hands.¡± Mary froze. Mike¡¯s expression was unreadable. The room felt heavier. Neither of them spoke. Then, finally¡ª Mike sat back down. Mary had never seen Michael look so tired in the short time she knew him. Not just physically¡ªhe always looked like he needed more sleep¡ªbut emotionally. Like he was about to dig up a grave he had buried long ago. Mike suddenly exhaled, rubbing his face. ¡°You ever heard of the Bite of ¡®83?¡± Mary blinked. She had. Not the details¡ªher family hadn¡¯t been living in Hurricane when it happened¡ªbut when they moved back, she had heard whispers about an accident at Fredbear¡¯s Family Diner. She knew a kid had died. She didn¡¯t know how. She didn¡¯t know who it was. ¡°¡­Yeah,¡± Mary said slowly. ¡°Not much, though.¡± Mike nodded, running a hand through his hair. Then¡ªquietly¡ªhe said, ¡°It was my fault.¡± ¡°Back then, Fazbear¡¯s was everywhere,¡± Mike said. ¡°The diner was booming. My dad was busier than ever.¡± Mary nodded. She could imagine. ¡°My mom wasn¡¯t around much,¡± he continued. ¡°She was recovering from a car accident, so I had to watch my siblings.¡± He sighed. ¡°Elizabeth was fine,¡± he muttered. ¡°She was nine. Annoying, but manageable.¡± Then his expression shifted. ¡°But Evan?¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°Evan was¡­¡± Mary stayed silent. ¡°¡­He was terrified of the animatronics,¡± Mike finally said. ¡°Fine with the merchandise. Fine with the plushies. But the actual machines?¡± Mike shook his head. ¡°He¡¯d cry every time he saw one.¡± Mary raised an eyebrow. ¡°That bad?¡± Mike huffed a laugh, but there was no humor in it. ¡°You have no idea.¡± ¡°It got on my nerves,¡± Mike admitted. ¡°Like, all the time.¡± He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. ¡°I was fourteen,¡± he muttered. ¡°I didn¡¯t know how to handle it. I was just a stupid kid, stuck babysitting a scared little brother who wouldn¡¯t stop crying over robots.¡± Mary stayed quiet. One thing she had learned in life? If someone was finally opening up about something painful, you let them talk. ¡°So, I started¡­¡± He hesitated. Then¡ªsoftly¡ªhe said, ¡°I started wearing a Foxy mask to scare him.¡± Mary¡¯s stomach sank. ¡°Not all the time,¡± Mike added quickly. ¡°Just¡ªjust when he was being especially annoying.¡± His hands clenched into fists. ¡°It was stupid. I thought¡ªI thought it was harmless.¡± Mary didn¡¯t move. She could tell what was coming. And she knew Michael hated himself for it. Mike took a shaky breath. ¡°Then came his birthday.¡± Mary¡¯s stomach twisted. ¡°We were at the diner,¡± Mike continued. ¡°Evan was already scared as hell.¡± His fingers dug into his palms. ¡°And me? I was being a dick.¡± Mary remained silent. ¡°I kept scaring him,¡± Mike admitted. ¡°Just¡ªjust to mess with him.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°Then me and my friends got an idea,¡± he muttered. Mary already hated this idea. ¡°We thought, hey, let¡¯s give the birthday boy a closer look.¡± His voice was flat. Devoid of emotion. ¡°We grabbed him. Carried him over to the stage.¡± Mary¡¯s heart dropped. ¡°We shoved him towards Fredbear.¡± Mary stopped breathing. And then, Michael said the words that broke her. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the jaw would slam shut.¡± Mike didn¡¯t look up. Mary didn¡¯t move. ¡°For ten days,¡± Mike whispered, ¡°he was on life support.¡± Mary¡¯s heart sank. Mike finally looked at her. His eyes were empty. ¡°And then he died.¡± Mary felt like she couldn¡¯t breathe. Mike leaned back, expression blank. ¡°My family never forgave me.¡± Mary didn¡¯t know what to say. What could she say? She wasn¡¯t there. She couldn¡¯t change anything. But she could do one thing. She could be there. So, without a word, she hugged him. Mike stiffened. Then¡ªslowly¡ªhe relaxed. And in a quiet, humorless voice, Mary muttered: ¡°Well. Both our childhoods were messed up.¡± Mike let out a breath of laughter. A real, genuine laugh. It was the first one she had heard from him. They sat there for a while. Just¡­ existing. And for the first time in years, Mary felt like someone else actually understood. Her fingers twitched. She thought about the factory. She thought about the blood. She thought about how easy it would be to just¡­ Tell him. But she hesitated. She wasn¡¯t sure why. Maybe because it was still hard. Maybe because it still felt like her burden. Or maybe because¡­ Because she was afraid. Of what, she didn¡¯t know. But she did know one thing. She wanted to tell him. And maybe¡ª Maybe one day¡­ she would. Night One Barry.
Barry leaned back in his chair, swirling the ice in his whiskey glass like a man contemplating the free market¡ªexcept in this case, the market had been rigged, sabotaged, and set on fire. ¡°So, let me get this straight,¡± John said, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°You two are telling me¡ªno, convincing yourselves¡ªthat both Fazbear Entertainment and CTC Entertainment are being sabotaged?¡± ¡°Sabotaged, infiltrated, screwed six ways to Sunday,¡± Barry corrected, waving his drink. ¡°Pick your favorite Cold War analogy, Johnny. It¡¯s the Bay of Pigs, except this time, we don¡¯t get to blame the CIA.¡± John exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. ¡°The investors are going to love this. And by love, I mean they¡¯ll be sharpening their knives. Not to mention the Board. And William¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, William,¡± Dan interrupted, grinning like a shark who just smelled blood in the water. ¡°We need to get rid of that bastard sooner rather than later.¡± Barry held up a hand. ¡°That¡¯s a conversation for another day. First, let¡¯s focus on the who¡ªas in, who screwed up bad enough to leave us with this mess?¡± Dan tossed a thick manila envelope onto the table. ¡°Our PI got the security footage. Shows exactly how deep this rabbit hole goes.¡± He leaned forward, voice dark. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter who did it, because whoever they are, we¡¯re going to flay them alive.¡± ¡°Metaphorically,¡± John muttered. ¡°Sure,¡± Dan smirked, ¡°metaphorically.¡± Barry chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. The taste was smooth, expensive¡ªjust like the bullshit they were swimming in. ¡°Alright, cash flow,¡± Dan said, switching gears. ¡°John, where are we?¡± John sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°Compared to Candy¡¯s? They¡¯re ahead. Slight lead. Open locations, fewer scandals. Less Fazbear-esque catastrophes.¡± Dan drummed his fingers on the table. ¡°I was hoping to leverage this to buy them out. Doesn¡¯t seem likely now.¡± Barry scoffed. ¡°It was a stupid idea in the first place.¡± ¡°Bold words for a guy without a plan,¡± Dan shot back. Before Barry could retort, the door opened, and in walked David, CEO of CTC Entertainment¡ªthe man who could either be their greatest ally or their biggest headache. After the customary fake smiles and firm handshakes, everyone took their seats. Barry slid the security footage across the table. ¡°This,¡± he said, voice measured, ¡°is what we¡¯re dealing with.¡± David raised an eyebrow. He clicked the tape into the player, and the grainy footage flickered to life. Shadows moved where they shouldn¡¯t. Animatronics shifted when no one was there. Then they played him the footage from Candys. Dan leaned forward. ¡°Now, tell me¡ªwho benefits from making Fazbear and Candy¡äs look like an absolute train wreck?¡± David exhaled, his lips pressing into a tight line. ¡°So what¡¯s your play? A Buyout?¡± John cleared his throat. ¡°A merger.¡± Silence. David laughed. Then he realized John wasn¡¯t joking. Joe leaned in, ever the salesman. ¡°Think about it. Fazbear and Candy¡¯s¡ªbigger than ever before. Maybe even international. Your security is better¡ªconcerned parents will trust the new locations. Our tech is superior¡ªno more of that Rowboatics junk.¡± Barry smirked. ¡°We get rid of William, his loyalists, and whatever the hell is going on with the animatronics in one move.¡± David drummed his fingers on the table. For the first time since he walked in, he actually looked interested. ¡°Alright,¡± he said slowly. ¡°Say we do this. Who¡¯s in charge?¡± Donald, who had been silent up to this point, leaned forward. ¡°Both of us. Dual CEOs.¡± David considered. ¡°Your Investors won¡¯t like it.¡± Barry shrugged. ¡°Then we make them like it. Your guys buy up Fazbear stock¡ªcheap as hell after the Bite and our other latest unfortunate failures. When the time comes, we coup William and override what little influence he has left.¡± David exhaled, then nodded. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s talk numbers.¡± Dan grinned, reaching for the phone. ¡°Sandra? Bring the vodka. We¡¯re gonna be here a while.¡±
Michael.
Michael stared out the window, watching the empty streets blur past in the dim glow of the streetlights. The air inside Mary¡¯s Dad¡äs car was too warm, thick with the remnants of their last conversation. Needless to say ever since things have kind of been awkward. He should say something. Anything. ¡°So¡­¡± He cleared his throat, keeping his voice casual. ¡°You gonna be okay driving back alone?¡± Mary snorted, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. ¡°I can handle myself, Mikey.¡± There it was again¡ªthat edge to her voice. Not sharp enough to cut, but enough to make him hesitate. He hadn¡¯t expected their conversation earlier to leave this much of a mark. Then again they did confess their dark pasts. ¡°Right,¡± he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The awkwardness was suffocating. ¡°Well, thanks for the ride.¡± She pulled up in front of the deserted pizzeria, the neon sign long dead, leaving the building hunched in darkness. The place looked worse at night, its silhouette jagged and broken against the sky. Michael hesitated, hand on the door handle. ¡°You don¡¯t have to¡ª¡± ¡°Stay?¡± she interrupted, forcing a smirk. ¡°Relax, Mike. I wasn¡¯t planning on working as a nightguard at a rival restaurant. Just¡­ don¡¯t get yourself hurt or worse in there.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Her words were light, teasing¡ªbut the way she said them, the way she looked at him for that brief second, made his stomach tighten. ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡± He opened the door and stepped out, the cold air rushing in like a breath of relief. ¡°See you tomorrow.¡± He shut the door before she could respond, not trusting himself to look back. As Mary drove away, disappearing into the night, Michael stood there for a moment, staring up at the rotting carcass of the restaurant. Something about tonight felt¡­ different. He shook it off and stepped inside.
The moment Michael crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop. Not literally¡ªat least, he hoped not¡ªbut the air inside felt stale, unnatural, like the walls were holding their breath. The distant hum of old, flickering lights barely pushed back the darkness. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching unnaturally across the tiled floor. His boots echoed as he walked through the main room, past the decayed remnants of what used to be a child¡¯s dreamland. Then he saw her. Toy Chica. Or what was left of her. Her body was scattered, limbs haphazardly thrown into a pile like someone had ripped her apart in a fit of rage. Her beak was missing, eyes blank and lifeless. Michael swallowed. First Mangle, then Balloon Boy. Now her. Less trouble tonight, at least. He stepped around the wreckage, careful not to disturb the pieces. Something about them felt¡­ wrong, like they weren¡¯t just discarded, but silenced. The office wasn¡¯t far now. He quickened his pace. He flicked on the lights, the dim yellow light spilling over old paperwork, a half-full coffee cup, and a folded piece of paper with his name scrawled on it. Karl¡¯s handwriting. Michael unfolded it, eyes skimming the messy, hurried script.
Mike, Toy Chica¡¯s gone now. That should make your shift easier. We¡¯re moving Foxy to the new location tomorrow¡ªso tonight¡¯s your last time dealing with him. - Karl
Michael exhaled, pressing the note flat against the desk. So that was it, then. No more Foxy after tonight. A part of him should¡¯ve been relieved. But instead, there was this weird, gnawing unease curling in his stomach. Like he was being watched. The moment the clock hit 12:00 AM, the ancient monitors crackled to life, casting a faint, flickering glow across the room. Michael leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. Five more nights, he reminded himself. Then I¡¯m done. The cameras buzzed, the grainy footage revealing empty hallways, darkened party rooms, and¡ª He froze. One of the cameras was static. The feed was dead. Right where Toy Chica¡¯s remains had been. His heart thudded once, hard. That¡¯s fine, he told himself. Could be nothing. Could be the system acting up. Could be¡ª A metallic clatter echoed from the main room. Michael sat up fast, his pulse spiking. He stared at the camera feed, at the static-riddled screen where something had moved. Slowly, he reached for the flashlight. Outside the office, the pizzeria was silent. Too silent. Michael tightened his grip on the flashlight, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. Tonight was going to be a long night.
12:30 AM Michael had been watching the monitors long enough to know the pattern. Every night, the Withered Animatronics woke up at midnight sharp, their broken, rusted bodies lurching from the shadows, their first move always the same¡ªfind the office, hunt him down. Not tonight. Michael stared at the grainy camera feed, disbelieving. They weren¡¯t coming for him. Withered Bonnie¡¯s half-missing face turned, not toward the security room, but toward the stage where Toy Chica¡¯s dismantled remains lay in a twisted heap. Then Freddy. Then Foxy. Then the others. One by one, their heads snapped toward the pile of discarded parts. Then they moved. Not rushing. Not attacking. Purposeful. Deliberate. Michael swallowed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. What the hell were they doing? 1:00 AM He should have been watching the doors. The vents. The Music Box. Instead, he kept flicking back to Camera 9. The Toy Animatronics were missing. The Withered Animatronics were gathered, forming a loose, almost reverent circle around the wreckage of Toy Chica, Mangle, and Balloon Boy. Michael¡¯s breath hitched. They were touching them. Not tearing them apart. Not stomping on them. Handling them. Moving pieces. Bonnie¡¯s clawed hand turned over a severed arm as if inspecting it. Chica¡¯s gnarled fingers pressed against Mangle¡¯s broken chassis, as if feeling for something beneath the surface. Foxy¡¯s rusted hook nudged Balloon Boy¡¯s shattered faceplate, careful, precise. Freddy knelt, placing his heavy hands on what was left of Toy Chica¡¯s head. Something passed between them. Michael¡¯s stomach twisted. This wasn¡¯t malfunctioning programming. This wasn¡¯t some corrupted AI loop. This was intentional. A shrill, whining alarm pierced his ears. The Music Box. Michael lunged for the monitor, fingers scrambling over the controls. The wind-up meter was nearly empty. Shit¡ªshit¡ªshit¡ª He spun the dial frantically, cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck as the eerie, mechanical melody croaked back to life. A mistake. A few more seconds, and he might have¡ª No. He wouldn¡¯t think about that. When he flicked back to Camera 9, the Withered Animatronics were staring directly into the lens. Watching him. Michael¡¯s blood ran cold. 2:15 AM Michael leaned back in his chair, exhaling shakily. He needed a distraction. Something to cut through the nauseating wrongness of what was happening. Instead, Balloon Boy¡¯s recorded laughter wheezed through the right vent. Michael flinched, snapping to the vent camera¡ªempty. He checked again. And again. Still empty. Balloon Boy was destroyed. He¡¯d seen the pieces of him lying in that pile. So why the hell was he still laughing? Michael grabbed the nearest object¡ªa half-empty can of soda¡ªand hurled it at the vent. The laughter cut off. He didn¡¯t check the camera again. 3:30 AM The screen flickered. Camera 9 went dark. Michael¡¯s breath caught. The static hissed and popped, and for a moment, he thought the feed had died completely. Then something moved in the darkness. A glitching shape, barely visible¡ªjerking, spasming, flickering in and out of view. Michael leaned forward. Then, a pair of glassy eyes snapped open directly in front of the camera. He recoiled so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. When he looked again, the screen was normal. The animatronics were gone. 4:45 AM Michael was getting tired. He rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. The night felt stretched, like time itself was warping around the pizzeria¡¯s oppressive air. Then, something moved outside the office. He barely had time to react before Withered Bonnie lurched through the left vent, towering over him, skeletal face inches from his own. Michael barely managed to slam his mask down before Bonnie could grab him. The animatronic froze, then slowly tilted its head, inches from Michael¡¯s face. Then, in a voice that was not its own, it rasped: ¡°Knock, knock.¡± Michael¡¯s heart stopped. He didn¡¯t answer. Bonnie stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Then, in that same broken, distorted voice, it said: ¡°Wrong answer.¡± The lights flickered¡ª And Bonnie was gone. Michael stayed in the mask for another full minute, hands trembling. 5:50 AM The last ten minutes crawled by, agonizing and thick with silence. Michael kept flicking through the cameras, expecting something to happen. But there was nothing. Camera 9 remained black, the feed never returning. The animatronics had vanished, leaving the pizzeria empty. For the first time all night, Michael didn¡¯t know whether that was a good thing or not. Then¡ª A single, distorted chime rang through the pizzeria. 6 AM. The shift was over. Michael pulled off his mask, exhaling a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. He stood, stretching out sore, tensed muscles, preparing for the walk to the exit¡ª And then, on Camera 12, just before he shut off the monitor¡ª A figure sat at the edge of the screen. Watching him. Michael didn¡¯t check again. He grabbed his bag, pushed open the emergency exit, and walked straight into the morning light.
???
The restaurant was quiet now. Michael was gone, stepping into the morning light like he hadn¡¯t spent the last six hours watched, followed, tested. The girl spoke first, voice sharp and impatient. "Why didn''t we go after him?" The boy didn¡¯t answer right away. His gaze lingered on the empty doorway, on the faint traces of warmth where Michael had stood moments ago. "Because helping others was more important," he finally said. The girl scoffed. "Since when do you care about that?" The boy didn¡¯t argue. Instead, he tilted his head, as if listening to something far away. "You want him dead more than anyone else," The girl pushed. "And yet, you let him go. Again." The boys lips curled into something not quite a smile. "Of course I do. But I want to prolong his suffering." He turned slightly, as if considering something. "Besides¡­ I¡¯m curious." The girl frowned. "Curious?" The boy nodded. "Someone drove him here tonight. That wasn¡¯t normal." Silence stretched between them. The Girl huffed, crossing her arms. "You always make things more complicated." Fredbear laughed. Blood in the Water Michael.
Michael didn¡¯t expect a warm welcome when he walked through the front door. Which was good, because he didn¡¯t get one. Dad was at the kitchen table, newspaper in hand, eyes scanning the pages like they contained the meaning of life. Elizabeth sat across from him, swinging her legs and chattering about God-knows-what, and Mom was at the counter, drinking her coffee. The only one who reacted was Elizabeth, who looked up and blinked. ¡°Oh. You¡¯re alive.¡± Michael held a hand to his chest. ¡°Wow. You actually noticed I was gone?¡± Elizabeth shrugged. ¡°Yeah. I had a bet going with myself about whether you were dead in a ditch or not.¡± Michael squinted at her. ¡°And?¡± ¡°Well, I lost. So, thanks for that.¡± Dad didn¡¯t even glance up from his newspaper. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Mom? Nothing. Michael could¡¯ve walked in drenched in blood, and they¡¯d probably just ask him to wipe his feet first. Elizabeth rested her chin on her hand. ¡°Oh, by the way, Grandpa¡¯s here.¡± Michael paused mid-step. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said,¡± Elizabeth said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Since when?¡± ¡°Yesterday.¡± Michael stared at her. Yesterday. He had been helping Mary home and then hanging out with her and her father, and meanwhile, his grandfather had apparently just waltzed into town. Fantastic. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lad.¡± Michael turned toward the familiar, accented voice. Standing in the doorway, with a cup of tea in one hand and an amused expression, was Grandpa Afton. ¡°I don¡¯t hold it against you,¡± Grandpa said, stepping forward and clapping Michael on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re here now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Uh. Yeah.¡± Grandpa smirked knowingly, as if reading every thought in Michael¡¯s head. ¡°Besides, your father didn¡¯t even notice either.¡± Michael glanced at Dad. Still reading. Grandpa gestured toward him. ¡°See? Utterly unbothered. You could be a ghost.¡± Michael deadpanned. ¡°Huh. Wouldn¡¯t that be something.¡± William turned a page. Mom sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t encourage them, Tony.¡± Grandpa just grinned over his tea. Michael wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled about his dad¡¯s lack of concern, but he wasn¡¯t surprised either. It was just how things were. He could be a father, sure. He just¡­ chose not to be one for Michael. For Elizabeth? Whole different story. He smiled at her. Talked to her. Actually listened when she spoke. It wasn¡¯t like Michael was jealous. No, that would require caring. It was just weird, that¡¯s all. Especially when he thought about Mary¡¯s dad. Michael had only met the guy a couple of times, but the difference was staggering. Mary¡¯s dad was¡­ well, an actual human being. He was involved, present, the kind of guy who asked how your day was and actually waited for an answer. His dad was nothing like that. Unless, of course, you were Elizabeth. Michael shook his head. ¡°Whatever,¡± he muttered, following Grandpa into the living room.
Grandpa Afton sipped his tea, watching Michael over the rim of his cup like he was a mildly interesting puzzle to solve. ¡°So,¡± Grandpa began, voice light, ¡°I hear you¡¯ve been spending time with a girl.¡± Michael almost choked on air. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Grandpa raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did I stutter?¡± Michael glared at Elizabeth, who was now smirking behind her own drink. Traitor. Michael crossed his arms. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Grandpa hummed, unconvinced. ¡°That so? And how long have you two known each other?¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Two weeks.¡± There was a beat of silence. Then, Grandpa started laughing. And not just a chuckle¡ªfull-bodied, amused-as-hell laughter. Michael narrowed his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± Grandpa wiped a tear from his eye. ¡°Lad, you¡¯ve only known this girl for a fortnight, and already people are talking?¡± Michael groaned, slumping against the couch. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡± Grandpa just grinned wider. ¡°Oh, I believe you. But let me give you a bit of advice, since¡ª¡± He cast a glance toward dad, who was still buried in his newspaper. ¡°¡ªGod knows your father¡¯s useless at this sort of thing.¡± Mom, still at the kitchen counter, raised her coffee cup in agreement. Michael blinked. ¡°What the hell is that supposed to mean?¡± Grandpa took another sip of tea, completely unfazed. ¡°Exactly what it sounds like.¡± Michael let out a long, slow exhale. ¡°Alright, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise one.¡± Grandpa leaned forward, his expression turning genuinely thoughtful. ¡°Every friendship, every relationship, is different,¡± he said. ¡°You can¡¯t rush them, and you can¡¯t force them. You just let them grow. Take the time to understand her¡ªwhat she likes, what she doesn¡¯t. And for God¡¯s sake, don¡¯t be a plank of wood when talking to her.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°A what?¡± ¡°A plank of wood.¡± Grandpa gestured vaguely. ¡°Y¡¯know. Standing there. Unmoving. Completely devoid of personality.¡± Michael groaned. ¡°I am not a plank of wood.¡± ¡°Debatable.¡± Elizabeth giggled. Michael shot her a glare. ¡°You are not allowed to enjoy this.¡± ¡°Oh, but I am.¡± ¡°Alright, one more question,¡± Grandpa said, amusement still twinkling in his eyes. ¡°Does she do anything weird to you?¡± Michael sighed. This was going to haunt him. ¡°She, uh¡­¡± He scratched the back of his neck. ¡°She calls me James Dean Fanboy.¡± Grandpa froze. Then, he burst out laughing all over again. ¡°Oh, lad,¡± he gasped between laughs, ¡°that is brilliant.¡± Michael sank deeper into the couch. ¡°I hate this family.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Grandpa clapped him on the back. ¡°Well, if you ever need more advice, you know where to find me.¡± Michael groaned. Elizabeth smirked. And dad, still reading his newspaper, didn¡¯t react at all. Michael wasn¡¯t sure if that made things better or worse.
Ron
The bar was loud, filled with the kind of people who lived for the rush of numbers¡ªmen in suits with their ties undone, cigarette smoke curling through the air, and half-empty glasses reflecting the dim neon lights. Ron leaned back in his seat, rolling his whiskey glass between his fingers. One drink in, but sharp as ever. The conversation had already turned to Fazbear Entertainment¡ªbecause of course, it had. "You see the new faces showing up?" one of the guys, Rich, asked, tapping his glass against the counter. ¡°Whole damn company¡¯s shifting. New investors sniffing around like they know something we don¡¯t.¡± Ron exhaled through his nose. ¡°Yeah. And that¡¯s what¡¯s bothering me. Nobody buys into a sinking ship unless they think they can steer it.¡± ¡°Or strip it for parts,¡± Marty muttered. The group chuckled, but it was the nervous kind¡ªthe kind that came from knowing they were playing in a market that could turn on them overnight. Ron took a slow sip of his whiskey, considering his next words carefully. Fazbear¡¯s was a mess, but it was his mess. He¡¯d invested early. Bet on it like a damn roulette wheel. And now? Now the boardroom was looking more like a battlefield. "Alright," Ron said, setting his drink down. "So, real talk¡ªhow bad is it between William and Daniel?" Marty snorted. ¡°Bad enough that I¡¯d put money on a lawsuit in the next six months.¡± Rich shook his head. ¡°A lawsuit? Try a goddamn hostile takeover.¡± Ron raised an eyebrow. ¡°You think Daniel¡¯s got the teeth for it?¡± ¡°Have you seen the guy?¡± Rich leaned forward. ¡°He¡¯s a shark in a boardroom. If he smells blood, he¡¯ll gut William and wear his skin to the next shareholder meeting.¡± Ron laughed, but the image wasn¡¯t far off from reality. ¡°Sounds like a Ray Kroc situation in the making,¡± he mused. The table went quiet for a second. Because that? That was a hell of a comparison. Ray Kroc hadn¡¯t just taken McDonald¡¯s¡ªhe¡¯d ripped it out from under its founders, turned it into a global empire, and rewrote history so cleanly that people barely remember the original owners. If Daniel was planning the same for Fazbear¡¯s¡­ That could be good. Or it could be the beginning of the end. "Alright," Ron said, cracking his knuckles. "If this turns into a Kroc situation, is that good or bad for us?" Marty smirked. "Good in the short term, terrible in the long run. You know how these things go¡ªhostile takeovers drive up stock value, but once the dust settles? If the new leadership can''t handle the company, we¡¯re holding the bag." Rich nodded. ¡°If Daniel wins, we might get a couple good years before the rot really sets in. If he loses? We cut our losses and jump ship.¡± The new guy, quiet up until now, finally spoke. ¡°Won¡¯t be necessary.¡± Ron glanced at him. He was new to the group¡ªsuit pressed, tie loose, cool demeanor that said he¡¯d been playing this game longer than most. ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± Ron asked. The new guy smiled, slow and knowing. ¡°Because from everything I¡¯m hearing, Fazbear¡¯s is gonna be around for a few more decades.¡± The group went silent for a beat. Then Marty laughed, shaking his head. ¡°Shit, you sound pretty confident. Got a crystal ball or something?¡± The new guy just smirked. ¡°Something like that.¡± Ron narrowed his eyes slightly. Something about the way he said that¡ªtoo smooth, too certain. The market didn¡¯t work like that. Not with Fazbear¡¯s. Not with all the things happening behind closed doors. Ron wasn¡¯t sure if the new guy was bluffing¡ªor if he knew something the rest of them didn¡¯t. The conversation shifted after that. They ripped into each other like usual, betting on how long other companies would last, trading half-drunk predictions about the market, arguing over who had the worst investment of the year. Ron let himself enjoy it¡ªjust for a while. This was his world. The market, the risk, the calculations. It was simple. Cold. Ruthless. And yet¡ª That new guy¡¯s words stuck in his head. "Fazbear¡¯s is gonna be around for a few more decades." Ron had been in the game long enough to know when someone was blowing smoke¡ªand when someone had inside information. He wasn¡¯t sure which one this was. But he had a feeling he was about to find out.
William.
The room was dimly lit, the air thick with sweat, fear, and something metallic. William adjusted his gloves, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a long night at the office rather than the slow, inevitable death of the person in front of him. The woman¡¯s breath hitched, her body trembling inside the rusted Springlock suit, the old mechanisms pressing against her skin like the jaws of some dormant beast. She tried to speak. Not that she could. William had removed her tongue earlier. A necessary step. The incessant pleading, screaming, bargaining¡ªall of it had become tiring over the years. He had work to do. And he hated distractions. William tilted his head, watching as she tried to scream, her mouth opening in a silent, useless wail. Funny. People always thought they had something to say before they died. But, really, what could they say that would change anything? And this wasn¡¯t about her. No, she was incidental¡ªa solution to a problem that had nothing to do with her. The problem? His father was in his house. That old bastard had waltzed in unannounced, sipping tea, cracking jokes, acting as if he still had any right to be there. His father had never approved of his work. Never understood. He definitely would NOT approve of this if he knew but who gives a fuck about what old men think? The way he looked at Michael¡ªtalked to him, advised him, laughed with him¡ªit was disgusting. Like Michael was worth something. Like Michael was his successor. William¡¯s fingers curled into a fist. He exhaled, slow, controlled, and turned his gaze back to the woman. She wasn¡¯t Michael. But for a moment, he could pretend. His eyes drifted over the twitching body in the suit, watching as the springlocks pressed tighter against her skin. The way she squirmed, whimpered, trembled. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine someone else there. Michael. His worthless disappointment of a son. Michael, choking on his own terror, body shaking with the realization that there was no escape, no chance of salvation. Michael, looking up at him with pleading eyes, as if William would ever spare him. Wouldn¡¯t that be something? His lips curled slightly. But no. Not yet. He still needed Michael¡ªif only to fail one more time. William glanced at the mechanisms inside the suit, fingers brushing against the delicate springlocks. A simple flick. That was all it would take. Would the results be any different this time? It was a curiosity more than anything else. He had seen plenty of deaths¡ªknives, blunt force, suffocation, fire. He had studied the way the body struggled, fought, clung to life before finally giving in. But the springlocks? They were special. A slower, more intimate kind of death. Painful. Drawn out. The feeling of metal piercing flesh, crushing bone, severing nerves one by one. A human body folding in on itself, trapped in a suit meant to entertain children. Poetic, in a way. And it would all be over in¡ª Click. The mechanism snapped. The woman convulsed violently, her body seizing up as the springlocks drove deep into her flesh, piercing muscle, tendons, bone. Blood seeped from the seams of the suit, pooling at her feet as she twitched, fingers grasping at nothing, eyes wide with blinding agony. She was still trying to scream. William didn¡¯t bother listening. His attention had already drifted elsewhere. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out the freshly developed photos he had taken earlier that day. His eyes narrowed. Michael. And that Mary girl. He had been expecting this, but still¡ªseeing it irritated him. Michael was a disaster, a walking, talking disappointment in every conceivable way. If the girl had an ounce of intelligence, she would have already cut him off by now. But no. She was still there. Still hovering around him like he was something worth keeping. His grip tightened around the photos. Killing her would be easy. So easy. Just one more disposable piece, another body to add to the collection. Wouldn¡¯t it be satisfying to see Michael break completely? ¡­But no. Not yet. Not until Michael either destroyed it himself or did one thing right and continued the family. Only then. William slid the photos back into his coat. His victim¡¯s body twitched one last time, then went still. And just like that, the night felt a little quieter. A little lighter. William exhaled, rolling his shoulders. Stress relief was important. And he felt much better now. The Calm Storm Mary.
Sparky¡¯s Diner wasn¡¯t exactly a five-star restaurant, but it was quickly their spot. Mary tapped her fingers against her half-empty milkshake glass, watching as Michael stirred his coffee like he was trying to divine the future from it. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°You planning to drink that, or just hypnotize yourself?¡± Michael didn¡¯t look up. ¡°I thought getting rid of Foxy would make things easier.¡± Mary sighed. There it was. ¡°Let me guess,¡± she said, resting her chin in her hand. ¡°The others are just working overtime to make up for it?¡± Michael finally glanced up, his deadpan expression somehow both exhausted and sarcastic at the same time. ¡°Oh, absolutely. It¡¯s like they saw Foxy leave and collectively went, ¡®Well, guess we gotta step it up.¡¯¡± Mary snorted. ¡°That¡¯s some real go-getter work ethic. Maybe they deserve a raise.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be sure to tell management,¡± Michael muttered. Mary leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms. ¡°At least your number of animatronics is decreasing.¡± Michael huffed, unimpressed. ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m sure more will magically show up when you go back to work.¡± Her smile faltered just a little. She hadn¡¯t been back yet. But she would be soon. Michael took a sip of his coffee¡ªand immediately regretted it, judging by the way he grimaced. Mary smirked. ¡°Too hot?¡± ¡°No, just awful,¡± he muttered, setting it down like it personally offended him. She snorted, shaking her head. ¡°Then why the hell did you order it?¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°Felt like the right thing to do.¡± For a second, it was quiet. The diner was never completely silent¡ªthe distant hum of the jukebox, the clatter of dishes, the low murmur of other conversations¡ªbut in that moment, it felt different. Michael looked up, his gaze more serious than it had been all day. ¡°You gonna be alright?¡± Mary froze. It wasn¡¯t the question itself. It was the way he said it. Casual, but not really. Like he wanted it to sound offhanded, but he actually cared about the answer. Her heartbeat picked up. She ignored it. ¡°Please,¡± she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°I¡¯ve been fine. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± Michael didn¡¯t look convinced. She forced a smirk. ¡°Why, you worried about me?¡± Michael¡¯s eyelid twitched. ¡°No.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Michael dragged a hand down his face. ¡°Christ, Mary.¡± She grinned, but inside, she was panicking. Because the truth was¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sure if she was fine. She exhaled, stretching her arms over her head. ¡°Anyway, apparently, I¡¯m getting a coworker.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Wait, what?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, apparently, they don¡¯t trust me alone anymore after that little panic attack situation. So now, I get to train some idiot on how to not die.¡± Michael frowned slightly, but didn¡¯t say anything right away. Mary tapped her fingers against the table. ¡°Not gonna lie, I¡¯m not thrilled about playing babysitter. What if they¡¯re a dumbass?¡± Michael leaned back. ¡°Then it¡¯s just like dealing with me.¡± Mary grinned. ¡°Fair point.¡± Michael pretended to be offended, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly like he was holding back a laugh. The jukebox crackled to life, struggling through a half-static version of ¡°Livin¡¯ on a Prayer.¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°Of course. What would Sparky¡¯s be without a Bon Jovi song?¡± Michael smirked. ¡°You¡¯re just mad you like it.¡± ¡°Pfft.¡± She took a sip of her milkshake. ¡°I will neither confirm nor deny that.¡± Michael chuckled, shaking his head. The lights flickered slightly. Probably a wiring issue. Mary ignored it. She was having a good time, and she was going to milk that for as long as possible before reality inevitably came crashing back in. Michael stretched, glancing at the clock. ¡°We should probably get going soon.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Mary sighed dramatically. ¡°Ugh, fine. But only because if we stay any longer, I might end up actually liking Bon Jovi.¡± Michael smirked. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want that.¡± They slid out of the booth, grabbing their jackets. Michael held the door open for her. She didn¡¯t comment on it. But her stomach flipped just a little. She ignored that, too. They stepped outside, the chilly night air biting against their skin, the neon sign of Sparky¡¯s buzzing behind them. Mary pulled her jacket tighter around her. ¡°Well, at least we know one thing for sure.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She grinned, teasing. ¡°Our lives are never going to get easier.¡± Michael groaned. ¡°Yeah.¡± Mary laughed.
The autumn air had a bite to it, crisp but not unbearable. The kind of weather that made you want to wear a jacket but also regret it halfway through the day. Mary kicked a stray rock along the sidewalk as she walked next to Michael, who looked as done with life as always. ¡°So, remind me again,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°Why are we aimlessly walking around town like two idiots with no sense of direction?¡± Michael sighed dramatically. ¡°Because somebody didn¡¯t want to didn''t want to hang out at her house.¡± Mary shrugged. ¡°My place is great, but I need variety in my life, Mike.¡± ¡°Right, because walking in circles is so much better.¡± She elbowed him lightly. ¡°It builds character.¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Sure. And when exactly did you become the expert on character-building?¡± Mary grinned. ¡°The moment I met you, obviously.¡± Michael let out a short, amused breath, shaking his head. That almost smile of his was rare, but it was there if you knew when to look for it. And Mary did. They wandered aimlessly, stopping in stores just to waste time. First Mary made Michael try on a ridiculous leather jacket, claiming it was his brand now. Michael, in revenge, forced her to look at the most absurd leg warmers he could find. They then debated whether cassette tapes were better than vinyls. Mary of course won that debate no matter what Mike said. It was normal. The kind of day that felt light and stupid and easy, like the world wasn¡¯t falling apart around them at night. She almost forgot about the shitty night shifts, the sabotaged animatronics, and the paranoia creeping into her bones. Almost. They were walking past an old gas station when Mary felt it. That prickling feeling on the back of her neck. Like someone was watching her. She glanced at the street, eyes skimming over the traffic. Then she saw it. A purple car, sleek but old-fashioned, its headlights dull under the cloudy sky. It was moving slowly. Not stopping. Not speeding. Just hovering in the periphery of her vision. It passed them¡ªbut not before she noticed the way the driver¡¯s silhouette seemed to linger. And then, just as easily, it disappeared into the flow of traffic. Mary¡¯s fingers twitched, resisting the urge to grab Michael¡¯s arm. Because maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe she¡¯d been working too many late shifts even with her impromptu vacation, maybe her brain was just wired for fear now. ¡°You good?¡± Michael asked, glancing at her. Mary blinked. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You spaced out for a second.¡± Shit. She forced a grin, nudging his arm. ¡°What, I can¡¯t take a dramatic pause for effect?¡± Michael gave her a look. She ignored it. ¡°Come on,¡± she said, starting to walk again. ¡°Let¡¯s see if we can find a store that sells those weird sunglasses that cops wear in movies.¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Mary, we are not¡ª¡± ¡°Too late, I already made it a goal.¡± Michael groaned. ¡°This is why I don¡¯t let you make decisions.¡± She laughed. But that prickling feeling never quite left. And as much as she tried to shake it off, a thought lodged itself in the back of her mind. That car had been following them. She was sure of that.
Michael.
Michael did not sign up for this. One second, they were walking through town like normal people, and the next? The sky decided to open up and ruin everything. "Shit¡ªrun!" Mary grabbed his wrist, practically dragging him toward the nearest awning. They ducked under the overhang of some closed record store, shaking off the first wave of cold rain. Michael shoved his wet bangs out of his eyes, glancing up at the dark, churning clouds. "Should pass soon," he muttered. An hour later, it got worse. Mary turned slowly, staring at him like he had personally offended her with his optimism. "Oh yeah," she deadpanned, gesturing at the miniature river forming in the street. "Really looks like it¡¯s passing, Mike." Michael crossed his arms. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡± Mary¡¯s voice shot up. ¡°MIKE, THERE¡¯S WATER POURING DOWN THE STREET!¡± Michael glanced at the rapidly rising water level, then at Mary¡¯s unimpressed expression. ¡°¡­Could be worse.¡± Mary groaned, shoving his shoulder. ¡°This is why I can¡¯t have nice things.¡± For a while, they just sat on the curb, watching the storm turn the town into a disaster zone. Mary hugged her knees, shivering slightly, and Michael¡ªnoticing but not sure what to do about it¡ªjust quietly scooted closer like a socially awkward penguin. A distant thunderclap rattled the air, and Mary jumped slightly. Michael smirked. "You scared?" Mary shot him a look. "Of you? No. Of the sky throwing temper tantrums? A little." Another flash of lightning lit up the street, followed by a crack of thunder that made Mary press her forehead against her knees. Michael, purely on instinct, nudged her with his elbow. "Hey. You alright?" She turned her head just enough to peek at him. "You gonna give me a piggyback ride to make me feel better?" Michael snorted. "Yeah, sure. When hell freezes over." A few minutes passed in relative peace, aside from the screaming wind and occasional car struggling through the flooded streets. Then, out of nowhere¡ª CRACK. A lightning bolt slammed into a tree across the street, setting it immediately on fire. Michael stared at the flaming tree, then at Mary, then back at the flaming tree. Mary, sitting stock-still, slowly turned to him. ¡°I change my mind,¡± she said flatly. ¡°This is actually the worst.¡± Michael exhaled sharply. ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s get inside before the universe tries to kill us next.¡± She didn¡¯t argue. Michael yanked off his soaking wet jacket, handing it to Mary. She blinked at him. "What?" "Put it on," he said, already crouching down with his back toward her. ¡°¡­What are you doing?¡± He tilted his head back, giving her a look. ¡°You wanted a piggyback ride, right?¡± ¡°Wait¡ªyou¡ª" Michael turned slightly. "Do you wanna stand in knee-deep floodwater, or do you wanna get inside?" Mary hated that he made a good point. She shoved his jacket on, hesitated for one more second, then awkwardly climbed onto his back. Michael hooked his arms under her legs, braced himself¡ª And ran. The nearest shelter was a small bar on the corner, warm light spilling through the windows. Michael kicked the door open dramatically, stepping inside like he hadn¡¯t just carried his friend through a goddamn storm. The bartender, drying a glass behind the counter, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Rough date?¡± Michael blinked. Mary started coughing. ¡°No¡ª¡± they both started at the same time, talking over each other. The bartender smirked knowingly. ¡°Right, right. You two okay?¡± Michael set Mary down carefully, ignoring how she immediately turned away to hide her face. ¡°All good,¡± he said, shaking out his damp hair. ¡°Just got caught in the weather.¡± The bartender nodded before sliding a towel across the counter. Mary snatched it instantly, still refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Michael, meanwhile, was very confused. Because for some reason, Mary was bright red. Michael slumped into a barstool, rubbing his temples. Mary plopped down next to him, aggressively toweling off her hair. Neither of them spoke for a minute. Finally, Michael sighed. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s your deal?¡± Mary stiffened slightly. "What deal?" "You¡¯re acting weird." "I''m always weird." "You¡¯re weirder than usual." Mary huffed, pulling his jacket tighter around herself. "Maybe I¡¯m just cold." Michael eyed her suspiciously. Then, for some godforsaken reason, he remembered the bartender¡¯s earlier comment. "Rough date?" Michael blinked, then scoffed. "Oh my god, are you embarrassed because that guy thought we were¡ª" ¡°DON¡¯T FINISH THAT SENTENCE.¡± Michael grinned. Mary glared daggers at him, face still unbelievably red. Michael leaned back, smug. ¡°Y¡¯know, if you wanted me to carry you, you could¡¯ve just nonsarcastically asked.¡± Mary, without hesitation, threw the towel in his face. Michael sighed. ¡°Okay. I deserved that.¡± Mary smirked, finally regaining her composure. ¡°Damn right you did.¡± Night Two Mary
Mary had spent the last seventy-two hours telling herself that what happened during the storm wasn¡¯t a big deal. That Michael giving her his jacket, carrying her through the rain, and making her sit next to him in a warm bar while she melted into a puddle of embarrassment¡ªnone of that meant anything. It was just a thing that happened. It wasn¡¯t weird. She wasn¡¯t weird. And then Michael showed up, acting like absolutely nothing had happened, and Mary realized¡ª Oh no. I am definitely weird about this. She spotted him waiting for her near Sparky¡¯s Diner, hands in his jacket pockets, looking completely and utterly fine. Not awkward. Not weird. Not even a little bit flustered. Just Michael. Same as always. Mary felt a tiny spark of frustration. He was supposed to be acting weird. Instead, he gave her a nod and a lazy smirk. ¡°You actually showed up. Thought you¡¯d be too busy drowning in regret over losing our ¡®worst weather experience¡¯ competition.¡± Mary scoffed, crossing her arms. ¡°Please. If anything, that just proved I could survive anything.¡± Michael arched an eyebrow. ¡°Survive anything? Mary, you screamed when the tree got struck by lightning.¡± Mary gasped, shoving his shoulder. ¡°I did not scream.¡± Michael tilted his head slightly like he was thinking. ¡°You¡­ very loudly gasped in terror.¡± ¡°Oh my god, shut up.¡± Michael smirked. ¡°See? This is why I won¡ät carry you again today. Your attitude is a liability.¡± Mary froze. Because there it was¡ªjust casual joking, the same as always¡ªexcept her brain wouldn¡¯t let it be normal anymore. She heard the words differently now. Felt them differently. And Michael? He was just standing there, completely fine, while she was internally screaming. It hit her like a ton of bricks. This? This wasn¡¯t just friends. When did she stop ignoring the things Michael said? When had she stopped ignoring how she felt her stomach flip when he smirked at her? When had she stopped ignoring how close he stood, or how his jacket smelled faintly like cheap cologne and something warm? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. She was not okay. Michael was still talking, completely unaware that her entire worldview was collapsing in real-time. ¡°¡­so yeah, safe to say my life hasn¡¯t exactly gotten easier,¡± he was saying, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°Even with Foxy and the Toys gone, the others are just working harder to kill me. Real inspiring teamwork.¡± Mary forced herself to focus. ¡°Right. That¡¯s¡­ great?¡± Michael squinted at her. ¡°You okay?¡± NO. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said way too fast. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± Michael gave her a look but didn¡¯t push. ¡°Anyway, what about you? When¡¯s your shift start back up?¡± Mary latched onto the topic like a lifeline. ¡°Tonight,¡± she said, sighing dramatically. ¡°That will be super fun.¡± Michael nodded. ¡°Guess that means we won¡¯t be hanging out for a while.¡± Mary¡¯s stomach sank a little and she tried to ignore it. Instead, she smirked. ¡°You gonna miss me?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be real broken up about it.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll miss this.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°What?¡± She shrugged, pretending it wasn¡¯t a big deal. ¡°Our dumb hangouts. They¡¯ve been fun.¡± Michael stared at her for a second, like he hadn¡¯t expected her to say that. Then, softly, he said, ¡°Yeah. They have.¡± And just like that, she felt like an idiot again. She needed to end this conversation before she did something incredibly stupid¡ªlike blush again, or think about how nice Michael¡¯s voice sounded when he wasn¡¯t being sarcastic. So she cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders. ¡°Welp. Guess I should go mentally prepare for my shift.¡± Michael smirked. ¡°Yeah, wouldn¡¯t want you scaring the new guy off too soon.¡± Mary scoffed. ¡°Excuse you, I¡¯m an excellent teacher.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°You told me last week that if a coworker annoyed you, you¡¯d shove them in the supply closet and leave them there.¡± Mary grinned. ¡°Exactly. Tough love, Mike.¡± Michael shook his head, amused. ¡°God help this new guy.¡± Mary turned to leave, but¡ªhesitated. Just for a second. ¡°¡­I¡¯ll see you when we both have nights off again,¡± she said, voice a little quieter than before. Michael¡¯s expression softened just slightly. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°See you then.¡± As she walked off, she could feel his eyes on her back. She didn¡¯t turn around. Because she wasn¡¯t sure if she could hide the stupid grin on her face. And that? That was definitely a problem.
12:00 AM Mary wasn¡¯t sure if it was the dim lighting, the stale air, or the fact that she was back in this godforsaken restaurant, but she already regretted everything. ¡°Excited for your first night back?¡± Carl asked dryly, leaning against the desk. Mary shot him a look. ¡°Yeah, thrilled. I was really missing the constant near-death experiences.¡± Carl smirked, flipping through a crinkled employee manual like it was a light bedtime read. ¡°Well, lucky you. I¡¯m sure they missed you too.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Mary groaned, kicking her feet up on the desk. ¡°Oh, I bet they did.¡±
12:30 AM ¡°You¡¯re weirdly calm about all this,¡± Mary noted, eyeing Carl suspiciously. Carl snorted. ¡°Would you rather I be screaming in terror?¡± ¡°No, but¡­ you act like you¡¯ve done this before.¡± Carl leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. ¡°I was told what to expect before I got this job. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t run screaming the moment the animatronics left the stage. By the way Candy is outside the window.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Wait. Someone actually told you the truth?¡± Carl shrugged. ¡°Not officially. But my boss figured I deserved a heads-up.¡± That was¡­ surprising. No one had warned her until the night shift began.
1:20 AM ¡°So¡­ why exactly did they give you this job?¡± Mary asked, watching Carl mess with the security feed as she closed the door in Chester''s face. Carl sighed. ¡°Parents found out I was ace. Didn¡¯t like that.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°That¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°Bullshit? Yeah, I know.¡± Carl flipped a switch on the console. ¡°Boss didn¡¯t want to fire me for it, but figured sticking me in a shift with no kids and lots of night-moving animatronics was a solid compromise.¡± Mary exhaled. ¡°Jesus.¡± Carl smirked. ¡°Yeah, welcome to 1987. Discrimination is totally illegal, unless you pretend it¡¯s not happening.¡± She had no response to that. Mostly because he wasn¡¯t wrong.
2:10 AM ¡°Okay, I know it''s your first time here during the night but is it just me, or are they being extra tonight?¡± Mary¡¯s voice was flat, but her pulse was picking up. Carl flicked through the cameras, watching as Cindy twitched unnaturally near the stage. ¡°Well,¡± Carl said, ¡°you did say you were worried they didn¡¯t miss you.¡± Mary huffed. ¡°I was being sarcastic.¡± The static on one of the monitors glitched for a second. When it cleared, Cindy had moved. Carl and Mary both went silent. Carl slowly reached for the manual. ¡°Page sixty-seven says if you make eye contact, you should look away immediately.¡± Mary didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Page sixty-seven can go to hell.¡± Carl hummed. ¡°Solid plan.¡±
3:35 AM Between flipping through the cameras and occasionally swearing at the Animatronics, the conversation drifted. Mary had no idea how, but at some point, it landed on their love lives and then on Michael. Carl was far too amused by this. ¡°So, let me get this straight,¡± Carl said, watching the monitors. ¡°You¡¯re mad because he¡¯s acting normal?¡± Mary scowled. ¡°No, I¡¯m mad because he¡¯s acting normal after¡ª¡± She stopped. Because what was she even going to say? After carrying her through a storm? After letting her wear his jacket? After looking at her like she mattered? After confessing their worst sins?! Carl raised an eyebrow. ¡°After¡­?¡± Mary gritted her teeth. ¡°Shut up.¡± Carl sighed as he closed the window so Blank wouldn''t break through it. ¡°Listen, from what you¡¯ve told me, this doesn¡¯t sound like an ¡®idiot¡¯ situation. It sounds like a guy who probably doesn¡¯t even realize friendship and romance are different things.¡± Mary stared at him. ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡± Carl shrugged. ¡°It makes sense. If his parents are crap as I am getting from what you said, and he never really had good relationships, why would he know the difference?¡± Mary hated how that actually made sense. She didn¡¯t respond. Because she knew things Carl didn¡¯t. Like the fact that Michael¡¯s home life wasn¡¯t just bad¡ªit was horrifying. Like the fact that he¡¯d been at the center of something awful back in 1983. Like the fact that his own father barely acknowledged him. She swallowed hard. ¡°Okay, but what if he¡¯s actually just stupid?¡± Carl snorted. ¡°Then you''re previous complaining about your ex lands me on one conclusion. You have a type.¡± Mary threw a pen at him as she closed the door in Candy''s face.
4:00 AM Carl was still messing with the monitors when he suddenly stopped. His entire body went rigid. Mary glanced at him. ¡°What?¡± Carl didn¡¯t answer. Slowly, she followed his gaze to the screen. And froze. The Rat was there. Not moving. Not rushing toward the office. Just staring into the camera. Something tightened in her chest. Her breathing hitched. ¡°Hey.¡± Carl¡¯s voice was steady but low. ¡°Mary. Breathe.¡± She hadn¡¯t even noticed she was holding her breath. She forced herself to exhale, gripping the desk hard. The Rat didn¡¯t move. Didn¡¯t twitch. Didn¡¯t blink. Mary¡¯s heart pounded. Carl¡¯s hand hovered near the console. ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± Mary swallowed. ¡°We don¡¯t let it in.¡± Carl nodded. ¡°Got it.¡± The screen glitched again. Then The Rat was gone. And suddenly, the last two hours felt like they would last forever.
Something was wrong. Mary could feel it¡ªthat prickling, crawling sense of impending disaster. It wasn¡¯t just one or two animatronics acting up. It was all of them. As if the Rat made them go insane. ¡°Carl,¡± she said slowly, staring at the monitors. Carl, flipping through the cameras, stopped breathing for a second. Because there they were. All of them. Candy. Cindy. Blank. Chester. The Penguin. Old Candy. And in the back¡ªhalf-hidden peaking through the door¡ª The Rat. Moving. Coming. Carl¡¯s voice was barely above a whisper. ¡°¡­We¡¯re so fucking dead.¡±
Mary slammed one of the office doors shut, locking out Blank, just as Carl threw the other one closed. Something slammed against it immediately. Carl swore. ¡°This is so much worse than I was warned about.¡± Mary didn¡¯t respond¡ªshe was too busy checking the window. Candy was there, staring through the glass. Eyes glowing. Unblinking. No. No, no, no. ¡°They¡¯re working together,¡± she muttered, heart pounding. Carl flicked through the cameras, hands shaking. ¡°They¡¯re not supposed to do that.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Mary said, watching the window as Candy tilted his head unnaturally, ¡°they¡¯re doing it anyway.¡±
The power was draining fast. Every time they closed the doors, every flicker of the cameras, every split-second delay in reaction¡ªit all chipped away at their survival time. Carl slammed his fist against the desk. ¡°They¡¯re learning.¡± Mary didn¡¯t like that word. But she knew he was right. The Penguin was bait. Blank distracted them long enough for Old Candy to try to rush one of their doors. Cindy and Chester took turns hammering the doors. It wasn¡¯t random. It was a coordinated attack. Mary was sweating. ¡°No sabotage should make this possible.¡± Carl shot her a look. ¡°Gee, you think?!¡± Something banged against the window. They both flinched. Carl swore. ¡°How the hell is this fair?!"
They were surviving by inches. The cameras glitched¡ªand then, suddenly, he was there. The Rat. Standing in the hallway, completely still. Mary felt her chest tighten. Carl didn¡¯t move. ¡°Close the doors.¡± Mary didn¡¯t hesitate. She slammed the left door shut. Carl hit the right. They turned to the window¡ª The Rat was gone. Mary¡¯s stomach dropped. ¡°Where¡ª¡± The lights flickered violently. The monitors cut out. Carl was breathing hard, scanning the room. ¡°No way. There¡¯s no vents big enough for it to crawl through. No way in. He can¡¯t be in here.¡± And yet¡ª They could feel IT. Mary¡¯s hands clenched into fists. ¡°This isn¡¯t sabotage,¡± she whispered. Carl didn¡¯t argue.
They were out of options. They had minutes left before the power failed completely and the clock for some goddamed reason stopped working a while ago! The doors were shaking under the force of impact. Carl¡¯s hands hovered over the controls, eyes wild with adrenaline. ¡°Any brilliant ideas?¡± Mary exhaled shakily. ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t die.¡± Carl scoffed. ¡°Solid plan.¡± The monitors flickered again¡ªCandy, Cindy, and Blank were all at the doors now. Carl braced himself. ¡°Hold on,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just hold on.¡± And then¡ª "Ding Dong!" The second the power turned on, the animatronics stopped. One by one, they turned away. Walked back into the darkness. Like nothing ever happened. Carl let out a choked breath, hands still shaking. ¡°We made it,¡± he muttered, voice hollow with disbelief. Mary didn¡¯t answer. Because something still felt wrong. She didn¡¯t trust it. Didn¡¯t believe it. They stood there for a long moment, waiting for something else to happen. But nothing did. It was over. Mary let out a long breath. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here.¡± Carl nodded, still looking like he might pass out on the spot. They grabbed their stuff, moving toward the exit hallway. It was too quiet now. Mary felt her stomach twist. She didn¡¯t like this. Didn¡¯t trust it. Then, just as they reached the door¡ª A loud, mechanical SCREECH tore through the air. Carl barely had time to yell¡ª THE RAT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE. It lunged, impossibly fast, metal jaws wide¡ª Mary didn¡¯t think. Didn¡¯t breathe. She grabbed Carl¡¯s wrist and RAN. They barely made it out the door before it slammed shut behind them. They didn¡¯t stop running. Not until they were well away from the restaurant, breathing hard, hands shaking. Carl finally turned to Mary, completely losing his shit. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!¡± Mary, still trying to catch her breath, had no answer. Because she had seen impossible things tonight. And she didn¡¯t know what was real anymore. After-Shift Mary.
Mary¡¯s hands were still shaking. The adrenaline hadn¡¯t faded, her body still wired with leftover panic from almost dying. Carl, standing beside her, wasn¡¯t much better. They had barely caught their breath before the dayshift employees dragged them into the manager¡¯s office. And now, sitting across from them, arms crossed, unimpressed, was Roger Harrington¡ªManager of Candy¡¯s Burgers & Fries. Roger was the kind of guy who never looked surprised by anything¡ªbut right now, even he looked mildly annoyed. ¡°Alright,¡± he sighed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Let me get this straight. You two are trying to tell me that every animatronic in the building¡ªones that have never done this before¡ªjust decided to attack you at once?¡± Carl exhaled slowly. ¡°Yes.¡± Roger blinked. ¡°And then The Rat¡ª¡± ¡°The fucking Rat, Roger!¡± Mary snapped. ¡°The one you keep in storage like a museum piece for some fucking reason that thing moved.¡± Roger pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Mary.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m serious! We saw it!¡± Roger sighed. ¡°You saw something, sure.¡± Carl stiffened. ¡°You don¡¯t believe us.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say that,¡± Roger said smoothly. ¡°But¡ªcome on. You¡¯re telling me an animatronic that¡¯s older than I am suddenly started working? And¡ªwhat¡ªchased you out of the building AFTER 6 AM?!¡± Carl¡¯s eye twitched. ¡°YES.¡± Roger sighed again, turning to the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go ahead and check the footage, then.¡± Mary folded her arms. ¡°Fine.¡± The dayshift guard and two other employees had just finished their walkthrough of the restaurant. They looked confused. ¡°Everything looks fine, boss,¡± the guard said, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°No sign of damage, no animatronics out of place.¡± Roger turned to Mary and Carl, raising an eyebrow. Carl looked like he wanted to throw something. Mary clenched her jaw. ¡°You checked the backroom, right?¡± The other employee nodded. ¡°Yeah. The Rat¡¯s still there. Didn¡¯t move an inch.¡± Carl made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a breakdown. Mary stared at the employees. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that after everything that happened¡ªeverything we saw¡ªThe Rat is just perfectly fine?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± the guard said. ¡°Just standing there, looking creepy as hell, same as always.¡± Carl turned to Mary, expression flat with exhaustion. ¡°So. We¡¯re insane.¡± Mary didn¡¯t respond. Because she was starting to feel insane. Roger sighed, rubbing his temples like this was a mild inconvenience instead of a complete nightmare. ¡°Look,¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you two saw last night. I really don¡¯t.¡± Mary opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. ¡°But let¡¯s say, for a second, that I do believe you.¡± He leaned forward, expression hardening. ¡°Let¡¯s say you¡¯re right. Let¡¯s say the animatronics did attack you. Let¡¯s say The Rat did move. What do you want me to do about it?¡± Mary blinked. ¡°What?¡± Roger spread his hands. ¡°Because I¡¯ll tell you right now¡ªwe are not shutting this place down.¡± Carl¡¯s face twitched. ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± Roger shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯m not.¡± Mary¡¯s hands curled into fists. ¡°Roger¡ªthis isn¡¯t just some technical malfunction or sabotage. This was something else.¡± Roger exhaled through his nose. ¡°Look. Even if I wanted to report this, I can¡¯t. Candy¡¯s can¡¯t afford another scandal right now.¡± Mary stared at him. ¡°So¡ªwhat¡ªyou¡¯re just gonna pretend it didn¡¯t happen?!¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m gonna do,¡± Roger said coolly. Carl¡¯s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up. ¡°You¡¯re insane.¡± ¡°No,¡± Roger said, leveling them with a tired but firm expression. ¡°I¡¯m practical.¡± Mary stood up too fast, blood rushing to her head. ¡°So that¡¯s it? That¡¯s your solution? Just let us get torn apart next shift?¡± Roger sighed. ¡°No one got torn apart.¡± Mary felt something snap inside her. She leaned forward, slamming her hands onto his desk. ¡°Not yet.¡± Roger didn¡¯t flinch. He just shrugged. ¡°Well. Guess you better be careful, then.¡± Carl let out a humorless laugh. ¡°Unbelievable.¡± Roger¡¯s face hardened. ¡°Listen to me, both of you.¡± He stood, voice dropping to something cold and final. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you think happened last night,¡± he said. ¡°But I do care about this restaurant staying open.¡± Mary clenched her jaw. ¡°So,¡± Roger continued, ¡°you are both going to keep your mouths shut, do your jobs, and forget about whatever you think you saw.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Carl exhaled through his nose. ¡°You¡¯re a real piece of shit, you know that?¡± Roger smirked. ¡°And yet, you still work here.¡± Carl moved first¡ªgrabbing his jacket, storming toward the door. Mary followed immediately, rage burning in her chest. Roger called after them. ¡°See you both next shift.¡± Mary didn¡¯t look back.
The second they were outside, Carl let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. ¡°Well,¡± he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, ¡°that was fucking pointless.¡± Mary didn¡¯t respond. Because deep down, she had already known how this would end. The truth? Nobody cared. Not about what happened, not about their safety¡ªonly about keeping things running. Carl sighed. ¡°So. What now?¡± Mary¡¯s fingers tightened around her jacket. She exhaled sharply. ¡°We do our job.¡± Carl gave her a long, unreadable look. Then he nodded.
Michael.
Michael didn¡¯t normally stay after his shift. But when Ralph left a note on his desk promising extra pay if he boxed up the Toy Animatronic parts, well¡ª Michael wasn¡¯t stupid. Money was money. So here he was, stacking severed animatronic limbs into cardboard boxes, trying not to think too hard about how fucked up his life had become. The job was easy enough. Toss a hand here, a busted endoskeleton there¡ªpretend he wasn¡¯t cleaning up what was essentially robotic corpses. Just another morning at Freddy¡¯s. Then the door swung open. And Karl walked in. Michael looked up, surprised. ¡°You¡¯re early.¡± Karl stopped in the doorway, blinking at him like he wasn¡¯t expecting him to be there. ¡°¡­Yeah,¡± Karl muttered. He reached into his coat, pulled out a flask, and took a long sip. Michael raised an eyebrow. Karl caught the look and smirked. ¡°What? You want some?¡± Michael deadpanned. ¡°I¡¯m seventeen.¡± Karl snorted. ¡°Stupid law.¡± Michael went back to boxing up Toy Chica¡¯s severed arms. ¡°You know, I could report you for that.¡± Karl grinned, dead-eyed. ¡°And I could pretend I care.¡± Michael just shook his head. Karl leaned against a table, watching Michael work. ¡°You know,¡± Karl muttered, ¡°if Freddy¡¯s wasn¡¯t closed, I¡¯d throw you a birthday party.¡± Michael paused. ¡°Oh.¡± Karl shrugged, taking another sip from his flask. ¡°Guess we¡¯ll try again next year.¡± Michael wasn¡¯t sure how to respond to that. Mostly because it required assuming he¡¯d work here that long. Karl was staring at nothing, twirling the flask in his hands. Michael had never seen him this out of it before. He¡¯d seen Karl annoyed, exhausted, vaguely pissed off¡ªbut this? This was different. ¡°You good?¡± Michael asked. Karl let out a short, humorless laugh. ¡°Not even remotely.¡± Karl exhaled, staring down at his hands. ¡°I ruined my life,¡± he muttered. Michael stopped boxing parts. Karl¡¯s voice was flat, empty. ¡°I started at Fredbear¡¯s, y¡¯know. Watched it all happen. Then I moved to Freddy¡¯s. Thought it¡¯d be different. Thought I¡¯d be different. But¡ª¡± He swallowed, rubbing his face. ¡°The things I¡¯ve done for this company¡­¡± He let out a bitter chuckle. ¡°No amount of church is fixing that.¡± Michael didn¡¯t know what to say. Because what was there to say? Karl wasn¡¯t wrong. Some things didn¡¯t get forgiven. Karl let out another shaky laugh. ¡°My wife left me,¡± he said, voice slurring slightly. ¡°For the fucking postman. Can you believe that?¡± Michael¡­ didn¡¯t know what to do with that information. Karl shook his head. ¡°I mean, sure, maybe I wasn¡¯t great. But a fucking postman?¡± Michael just blinked at him. Karl took another long drink. ¡°But y¡¯know,¡± he muttered, ¡°it¡¯s not like I could¡¯ve saved my marriage. Not after¡­¡± He trailed off. The air shifted. Michael sat a little straighter. Karl set his flask down, hands trembling. ¡°Not after our daughter died.¡± Michael¡¯s stomach twisted. Karl let out a shaky breath. ¡°My daughter,¡± he whispered. ¡°She¡ªshe was killed. Back in 85. In this fucking place.¡± Michael felt the air leave his lungs. Karl¡¯s face crumpled. ¡°Killed by some psycho. On my watch.¡± And just like that¡ª Karl broke. Michael had never seen a grown man fall apart like this. Karl pressed his hands to his face, shaking. ¡°I should¡¯ve known,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡ªI should¡¯ve seen it coming. But I didn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t.¡± Michael just sat there, watching helplessly. Because what the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn¡¯t good at this. At emotions. At dealing with other people¡¯s pain when he could barely handle his own. So he just sat there. Silent. Listening. Letting Karl grieve. Because what else could he do? Karl sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. ¡°¡­Shit,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡ªI shouldn¡¯t be dumping this on you. You¡¯ve got your own shit. The¡ªthe bite, your brother¡ª¡± Michael flinched. Karl sighed. ¡°Sorry, kid.¡± Michael shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± It wasn¡¯t. But what else was he supposed to say? Karl exhaled. ¡°Her name was Cassidy. I called her my little princess. She hated it.¡± He tried to chuckle but it sounded wrong. Karl didn¡¯t say anything else. Michael didn¡¯t push. He just sat there. Listening. And for once, Karl let the silence just exist.
Mary.
Mary threw herself onto the couch, letting out a long, aggravated groan. Michael sat in the chair across from her, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. ¡°So,¡± he said, voice dry, ¡°I¡¯m guessing work went great?¡± Mary tilted her head up to glare at him. ¡°Mike,¡± she said, voice slow and deadly, ¡°I swear to God, if you say one more sarcastic thing, I am throwing you out the window.¡± Michael made a so-so motion with his hand. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s assuming you can lift me.¡± Mary grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at his face. Michael caught the pillow, unimpressed. ¡°Okay. So what happened?¡± Mary exhaled sharply. ¡°Roger Harrington is a spineless, money-hungry piece of shit, that¡¯s what happened.¡± Michael blinked. ¡°Your boss?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± She sat up, running a hand through her hair. ¡°Carl and I told him everything¡ªthe animatronics, The Rat, everything. And you know what he did?¡± Michael leaned forward slightly. ¡°Laughed?¡± ¡°Worse.¡± Mary gritted her teeth. ¡°He pretended nothing happened.¡± Michael¡¯s expression darkened slightly. Mary continued, voice rising. ¡°Like¡ªoh sure, Mary and Carl just hallucinated a fucking murder machine crawling out of storage! No big deal! Let¡¯s just ignore it and go back to work like nothing happened!¡± Michael didn¡¯t say anything for a second. Then¡ªquietly¡ªhe muttered, ¡°That¡¯s fucked.¡± Mary let out a humorless laugh. ¡°Yeah. You think?¡± Michael exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. Something in his posture shifted. ¡°¡­My boss at least acknowledges that things are bad.¡± Mary paused. ¡°Yeah?¡± Michael nodded, looking almost reluctant to talk about it. ¡°He showed up early while I was cleaning up. He was¡­ drunk. Not just regular drunk¡ªfalling apart drunk.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Wait¡ªyour boss was hammered at six in the morning?¡± Michael let out a short laugh. ¡°Yeah. And, uh¡ªhe kind of lost it on me.¡± Mary frowned. ¡°Lost it how?¡± Michael hesitated. Then, softly: ¡°He told me very depressing things. Things that are not meant to be shared without consent. He ranted about the missing children incident too¡± Mary cringed at that. She heard about that. The room went quiet for a long moment. Then, before she could second-guess herself, Mary shifted closer to Michael, resting her arm on the armrest of his chair. ¡°¡­You okay?¡± she asked, voice quieter now. Michael blinked at her, like he wasn¡¯t expecting the question. Then he shrugged. ¡°I mean. I should be used to hearing about dead kids by now, right?¡± Mary frowned. ¡°Mike.¡± He sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Yeah. I dunno. It¡¯s just¡­¡± He trailed off. Mary watched him, waiting. Michael exhaled. ¡°He was just¡ªso guilty. Like he¡¯d been carrying it around forever, and it just¡­ cracked him open.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what the hell to do. So I just sat there and let him talk.¡± Mary bit the inside of her cheek. She had no idea what she would¡¯ve done in that situation either. So, instead of saying something stupid, she did the only thing she could think of. She reached out¡ªhesitated for half a second¡ªand then gave his hand a quick, firm squeeze. Michael froze. But Mary felt it¡ªthe way his fingers twitched slightly, the way he didn¡¯t pull away. She let go before it could get weird. Michael cleared his throat. ¡°Uh. Thanks.¡± Mary shrugged. ¡°Whatever.¡± Michael smirked slightly. ¡°Was that a caring gesture? Mary, are you going soft on me?¡± Mary¡¯s face heated instantly. She shoved his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t push your luck.¡± Michael chuckled, shaking his head. But the moment lingered. Mary felt it, even if neither of them said it out loud. They were too close. The room felt too warm. And suddenly, Mary was very aware that she wanted to kiss him. ¡­Wait. What. Mary shot to her feet so fast she almost knocked over the lamp. ¡°Okay, cool, great talk¡ªI need a drink!¡± Michael blinked at her sudden energy shift. ¡°¡­You good?¡± ¡°Yep. Totally fine. Super fine.¡± Michael narrowed his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re acting weird.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Michael gave her a suspicious look. Then he stood up, stretching. ¡°Whatever. I¡¯m gonna use your bathroom.¡± Mary nodded too quickly. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, sure, go ahead.¡± Michael disappeared down the hall. And the second the door shut, Mary collapsed back onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it. She was so fucking screwed. Countdown to the Birthday Michael.
5 Days Until the Party...
Michael woke up to the blaring sun punching him in the face. He groaned, burying his head under the pillow, hoping the headache would go away if he ignored it long enough. It didn¡¯t. He peeked at the clock¡ª11:43 AM. Technically still morning. Barely. Michael grunted as he forced himself out of bed, every muscle in his body complaining about the night shifts and shit sleep schedule. He threw on a t-shirt and jeans, dragging himself into the kitchen like a zombie with back pain. And there was Grandpa Afton, sipping his tea like he owned the place¡ªwhich, technically, he didn¡¯t, but he acted like he did. Grandpa raised an eyebrow. ¡°Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.¡± Michael grunted. ¡°It¡¯s still morning.¡± Grandpa glanced at the clock. ¡°For seventeen more minutes.¡± Michael collapsed into a chair, head in his hands. ¡°Kill me.¡± Grandpa sipped his tea smugly. ¡°Too much work. You¡¯d haunt the house and judge my tea-making skills.¡± Michael grunted again. Grandpa leaned back, crossing his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you survive like this. When I was your age, I woke up at dawn, worked a full day, and still had time to flirt with pretty girls.¡± Michael squinted at him. ¡°That was, like, during the war or something. You probably didn¡¯t even have TV.¡± Grandpa sipped his tea dramatically. ¡°And we were better for it.¡± Michael rolled his eyes, leaning on the table. ¡°Elizabeth at school?¡± Grandpa nodded. ¡°Yes. You¡¯d know that if you ever woke up at a reasonable hour.¡± Michael ignored that. Grandpa leaned forward, eyes twinkling with something dangerous¡ªthe kind of look that preceded deeply uncomfortable questions. ¡°So,¡± he began, voice casual but clearly calculated, ¡°any plans for the big day?¡± Michael frowned. ¡°What big day?¡± Grandpa gave him the look. Michael blinked. ¡°Oh. Right. Birthday.¡± Grandpa raised his hands, mock applause. ¡°He remembers!¡± Michael sighed. ¡°No plans. Not really the party type anymore.¡± Grandpa tilted his head. ¡°No plans with a certain girl?¡± Michael froze mid-sip of water. ¡°What?¡± Grandpa smirked. ¡°A girl. Perhaps¡­ a crush?¡± Michael almost choked on air. ¡°Grandpa¡ªwhat? No. I don¡¯t¡ªwhat?¡± Grandpa sighed, with the weariness of a man who had been waiting an entire month for this moment. ¡°Michael,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m talking about Mary.¡± Michael blinked rapidly. ¡°Mary¡¯s my friend.¡± Grandpa deadpan stared. ¡°Yes. And the sky is blue. And you¡¯re painfully oblivious.¡± Michael scrambled for words. ¡°We hang out. That¡¯s it. We¡­ talk. Eat. I complain. She laughs. Normal friend stuff.¡± Grandpa leaned in. ¡°And you give her your jacket when it rains. Carry her on your back like she¡¯s your bride. Worry about her like she¡¯s the only person on Earth. Smile when you talk about her¡ªwhich, by the way, is the only time you smile without sarcasm.¡± Michael opened his mouth to argue¡ªbut nothing came out. Grandpa kept going. ¡°I¡¯ve seen boys dance around their feelings before. Hell, your father was one of them. But you? You are textbook.¡± Michael felt his ears burning. ¡°I¡ªshe¡ªwe¡¯re friends. That¡¯s it.¡± Grandpa raised a skeptical eyebrow. ¡°Really? Then why did you turn red when I brought her up?¡± Michael crossed his arms defensively. ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You did.¡± Michael groaned, sinking lower into his chair. ¡°This is insane.¡± Grandpa shrugged. ¡°Or you¡¯re just the last to figure it out.¡± Michael sat in stubborn silence, staring at the table. Grandpa watched him, patient. And then¡ª The memories flooded in. Mary teasing him about worrying too much. Mary grinning when he carried her through the storm. Mary falling asleep next to him while watching a bad movie. Mary making him feel¡­ okay. Oh, shit. Michael¡¯s eyes widened slightly. Grandpa smirked like he had just won a war. Michael whispered it before he could stop himself. ¡°¡­Oh shit.¡± Grandpa leaned back in triumph. ¡°There it is.¡± Michael buried his face in his hands. ¡°Goddammit.¡± Grandpa patted his shoulder. ¡°Welcome to hell, lad.¡± Michael groaned into his palms. Michael sat there for a while, trying to process the emotional trainwreck that had just slammed into his brain. Grandpa, satisfied with his victory, sipped his tea in smug silence. Finally, Michael peeked through his fingers. ¡°¡­So what do I do now?¡± Grandpa shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Figure it out. Maybe try not being a complete idiot?¡± Michael glared weakly. ¡°Thanks. Super helpful.¡± Grandpa grinned. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m here for.¡±
4 Days Until the Party...
Michael was pretty sure this movie was trying to kill him. Bright colors, singing ponies, and a plot that made absolutely no sense. He had tuned out halfway through, but Elizabeth was fully absorbed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the TV. ¡°Are they¡ªsinging again?¡± Michael muttered from the couch. Elizabeth didn¡¯t look back. ¡°It¡¯s called storytelling, Michael.¡± Michael raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure this is called psychological warfare.¡± Elizabeth threw a pillow at him without turning away from the screen. He leaned back into the couch, trying to focus on anything other than the ponies. But his brain wasn¡¯t cooperating. Because yesterday happened. Grandpa had basically cracked open his skull and poured the truth in there¡ªMichael liked Mary. Romantically. And now he couldn¡¯t un-know it. Every conversation, every stupid joke, every time she smiled¡ªhis brain was replaying it all like a highlight reel designed to ruin his life. And the worst part? He didn¡¯t know what to do about it. Onscreen, a pony was being dramatically kidnapped by some blob creature. Elizabeth gasped. ¡°No! Not Wind Whistler!¡± Michael blinked slowly. ¡°Wind Whistler.¡± Elizabeth shushed him. ¡°This is serious.¡± Michael smirked despite himself. ¡°Of course. My bad. Kidnapped pastel horses¡ªsuper serious.¡± Elizabeth glanced back at him, unimpressed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand. You¡¯re a boy.¡± Michael leaned forward. ¡°Excuse me? Are you saying boys can¡¯t appreciate high-quality cinema?¡± Elizabeth rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re ruining the mood.¡± Michael laughed softly, but his mind drifted. Because he was ruining his own mood, too. Michael¡¯s fingers drummed on his knee. He kept thinking about what would happen the next time he saw Mary. What was he supposed to do? Act normal? Avoid her? Confess his feelings like an idiot in a romcom movie? What if he messed everything up? What if she didn¡¯t feel the same way?Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. What if he ruined the best thing he had¡ªthe only thing in his life that felt right? Michael groaned under his breath, dragging his hand down his face. Elizabeth glanced at him, concerned. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Michael snapped out of it. ¡°Nothing.¡± Elizabeth squinted. ¡°Liar.¡± Michael smirked weakly. ¡°You¡¯re getting too smart.¡± Elizabeth beamed proudly, then immediately got distracted by a pony narrowly escaping a lava pit. A few minutes later, during a particularly intense musical number, Elizabeth spoke without looking away from the screen. ¡°You think too much.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°What?¡± Elizabeth shrugged. ¡°You always look like you¡¯re thinking about something bad. Maybe you should stop worrying and just do stuff.¡± Michael stared at her. Because that was alarmingly good advice, coming from a nine-year-old watching singing ponies fight evil goo monsters. Elizabeth, noticing his silence, looked over at him. ¡°What?¡± she asked, genuinely confused. Michael shook his head slowly, half-laughing. ¡°Nothing. Just¡­ you¡¯re not wrong.¡± Elizabeth grinned like she¡¯d won something. ¡°I¡¯m always right.¡± Michael chuckled, leaning back into the couch. ¡°Sure you are.¡± But her words stuck with him. Stop worrying and just do stuff. Maybe¡­ Maybe she was right. Michael nudged Elizabeth¡¯s arm. ¡°So, when¡¯s the next pony movie marathon? Should I clear my schedule?¡± Elizabeth gasped dramatically. ¡°Are you saying you liked it?¡± Michael grinned. ¡°I¡¯m saying I might be invested in Wind Whistler¡¯s character development.¡± Elizabeth beamed. ¡°You liked it.¡± Michael laughed, feeling lighter than he had all day. Because even if his life was a mess, and even if he had no clue what to do about Mary¡ª This? This was good. Being here. With Elizabeth. With family. Sometimes, that was enough. 3 Days Before the Party...
Michael¡¯s palms were sweating, which was stupid because this was just a conversation. With Mary¡¯s dad. At their house. About Mary. Michael briefly considered turning around and never speaking to another human being again. But then the door opened, and there he was. Mr. Schmidt. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that perpetual look of a man who had seen some shit but also knew exactly how to handle it. Michael had no chance. ¡°Mike?¡± Mr. Schmidt asked, mug of coffee in hand, looking mildly curious. ¡°You alright, kid?¡± Michael scratched the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah¡ªyeah. Uh¡­ Mary¡¯s here, right?¡± Mr. Schmidt nodded. ¡°Night shift wiped her out so she is sleeping like a newborn. You need something?¡± Michael paused. This was the moment. He could back out now, say it was nothing¡ªbut no. He was doing this. Michael cleared his throat. ¡°I¡ªuh. I actually wanted to talk to you.¡± Mr. Schmidt¡¯s eyebrows rose slightly. ¡°Me?¡± Michael nodded, feeling like he was about to throw up. ¡°About¡­ Mary.¡± Mr. Schmidt¡¯s expression shifted¡ªjust a little¡ªbut it was enough to make Michael want to die. ¡°Come on,¡± Mr. Schmidt said, motioning to the garden. ¡°Let¡¯s walk.¡± The backyard was quiet, sun filtering through the trees. Mr. Schmidt took a slow sip of coffee before speaking. ¡°So. You came to talk to me. About my daughter.¡± Michael nodded stiffly. ¡°Yeah.¡± Mr. Schmidt glanced at him sideways. ¡°Son, you trying to ask me for permission to date her?¡± Michael opened his mouth¡ªbut before he could answer, Mr. Schmidt grabbed a shovel leaning against the fence. Michael froze. Mr. Schmidt held it casually, resting it against his shoulder like he¡¯d done this before. ¡°Well,¡± Mr. Schmidt said, voice calm but very clear, ¡°if you¡¯re asking for permission, you ain¡¯t getting it unless you get hers first. So shoot your shot, man. But if you break her heart¡­¡± He patted the shovel. Michael held up his hands quickly. ¡°Wait, wait¡ªI¡¯m not asking for permission. I mean¡ªI am interested in her¡ªbut I came for advice.¡± Mr. Schmidt stared at him. Slowly, the man¡¯s face cracked into the most dangerous smirk Michael had ever seen. ¡°You¡ªhold on.¡± He set the shovel down, laughing already. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you came to the father of the girl you like for romantic advice? And you thought that was a good idea?¡± Michael blinked. Realization hit him like a truck. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Michael muttered. ¡°That¡¯s so stupid.¡± Mr. Schmidt bent over, hands on his knees, wheezing with laughter. Michael started laughing too, because it was genuinely ridiculous. For a solid minute, they just laughed like idiots in the garden. Mr. Schmidt wiped his eyes, still chuckling. ¡°Jesus, kid. You¡¯ve got balls, I¡¯ll give you that.¡± Michael shook his head, still half-laughing, half-mortified. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking.¡± Mr. Schmidt grinned. ¡°Clearly.¡± They calmed down, and the mood shifted to something gentler. ¡°You really like her, huh?¡± Mr. Schmidt asked, voice softer now. Michael nodded, feeling weirdly vulnerable. ¡°Yeah. I do.¡± Mr. Schmidt sipped his coffee, eyes thoughtful. ¡°I figured. You¡¯ve been obvious for a while now.¡± Michael winced. ¡°That bad?¡± Mr. Schmidt shrugged. ¡°Not bad. Just¡­ noticeable. She lights you up. You think I don¡¯t see it?¡± Michael felt his face heat up. Mr. Schmidt set his coffee down. ¡°Look. I could give you a grand speech about relationships, but you already know what matters. Be honest. Be kind. And don¡¯t overthink it.¡± Michael nodded slowly. ¡°You won¡¯t know if it¡¯ll work unless you try. So¡ªtry.¡± Michael exhaled. ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t work?¡± Mr. Schmidt gave him a look. ¡°Then you respect her. And you both move on.¡± He picked up the shovel again, but his tone was more teasing this time. ¡°But if it does work¡­ and you break her heart¡ª¡± Michael nodded quickly. ¡°Shovel. Got it.¡± Mr. Schmidt grinned. ¡°Smart kid.¡± Michael felt lighter. He had expected this to be terrifying¡ªand, okay, it was¡ªbut it was also¡­ good. Mr. Schmidt wasn¡¯t just Mary¡¯s dad. He was a guy who cared. About her. And maybe, now, about Michael too. Michael extended his hand. ¡°Thanks. For not, you know, burying me in your garden.¡± Mr. Schmidt shook his hand firmly. ¡°Yet.¡± Michael laughed.
2 Days Until the Party...
Michael leaned against the Parts & Service doorway, arms crossed, watching as two employees struggled to maneuver the bulky Fredbear suit onto a dolly. Ralph stood beside him, sipping from a soda can like he was supervising a construction site he had no intention of helping with. ¡°I give it five minutes before one of them drops it,¡± Ralph muttered. Michael smirked. ¡°You¡¯re generous. I was thinking two.¡± The Fredbear suit tilted dangerously forward, making both employees yelp and scramble to steady it. Ralph raised his soda. ¡°Called it.¡± Michael chuckled, but his thoughts were half elsewhere¡ªstill stuck on Mary, on Grandpa¡¯s talk, on Mary¡¯s dad laughing at him in the garden yesterday. Ralph glanced over, noticing Michael¡¯s distracted expression. ¡°You look like you¡¯re thinking too hard,¡± Ralph said. ¡°Dangerous territory, man.¡± Michael snorted, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± Ralph narrowed his eyes, then smirked. ¡°This about the Candy girl?¡± Michael froze for half a second, then tried to play it cool. ¡°What? No. Shut up.¡± Ralph grinned like a shark-smelling blood. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s totally about her.¡± Michael groaned, covering his face. ¡°I hate you.¡± Ralph patted his shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s fair. But, seriously¡ªafter what you pulled yesterday with her dad? You¡¯re braver than me. I would¡¯ve moved states.¡± Michael let out a weak laugh. ¡°Yeah¡­ that was a choice.¡± Ralph grinned wider. ¡°So? When¡¯s the big date?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°There¡¯s no date.¡± Ralph raised his eyebrows. ¡°Yet?¡± Michael sighed. ¡°Look, I¡¯m¡­ not asking her out. Not right now. Maybe in a few months¡ªif things still feel right. I don¡¯t wanna mess things up.¡± Ralph tilted his head. ¡°Fair. That¡¯s surprisingly mature. Annoying, but mature.¡± Michael shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m full of surprises.¡± Ralph walked behind the workers into the main room where the Marrionate was being placed into a different box, smirking. ¡°You know, if it works out, we¡¯ll be calling her Mrs. Afton someday.¡± Michael almost choked on his own breath. ¡°What¡ªno. No, no. That¡¯s, like¡ªfuture future shit. And who says she¡¯d even take my name? What is this, the 1800s?¡± Ralph grinned devilishly. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, it¡¯s got a ring to it. Mary Afton. Future Mrs. Afton. Maybe I should start practicing¡ª" And then it happened. The Marionette¡¯s head snapped toward them. Not a glitchy twitch. Not a subtle camera shift. It turned. Slowly. Deliberately. Watching. At the same time, the Fredbear suit suddenly tilted and crashed over onto the floor with a heavy, metallic thud. The employees swore loudly, scrambling back. Michael stiffened, heart lurching. Ralph jerked upright, startled. ¡°Holy shit¡ª¡± Michael¡¯s skin crawled. Ralph shook his head, still watching the employees struggle to lift Fredbear back up. ¡°Man, I knew this place was a death trap, but that thing¡¯s out for blood,¡± Ralph muttered, pointing at the suit. Michael forced a laugh, though his eyes flicked back to the Marionette¡ªstill as a statue now. His chest felt tight. Because he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling¡ª That it had been listening. And it had cared. But that was impossible. Right? Michael cleared his throat, trying to shake it off. ¡°Anyway¡ªcan you not call her future Mrs. Afton? Like¡ªever again?¡± Ralph grinned. ¡°No promises.¡± Michael shoved his shoulder. ¡°I hate you.¡± Ralph laughed, but Michael¡¯s mind stayed stuck on that brief moment¡ª The look from the Marionette. The timing of the suit falling over. A coincidence. Had to be. Right?
Evan.
Evan watched Michael from afar, or whatever ¡°afar¡± meant when you didn¡¯t really have a body anymore. His stupid older brother was blushing. Michael Afton. Blushing. Over a girl. The boy who bullied him until he died was now awkwardly navigating teenage romance like a complete idiot. Evan scowled. ¡°This is the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± Cassidy, hovering nearby, snorted. ¡°It¡¯s pathetic. And kind of hilarious.¡± Charlie, watching with arms crossed, smiled faintly. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ cute. In a weird way.¡± Evan shot her a glare. ¡°It¡¯s disgusting.¡± Cassidy grinned. ¡°You¡¯re just mad he¡¯s happy.¡± ¡°I¡¯m mad he¡¯s breathing,¡± Evan snapped. Susie drifted closer. ¡°But, like¡­ isn¡¯t it kind of nice? He¡¯s not just¡­ you know, being miserable all the time?¡± Evan glared harder. ¡°No. He should be miserable all the time.¡± Fritz poked his head into the group. ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s kind of funny watching him panic over a girl. Remember when he used to act tough?¡± Cassidy grinned like a shark. ¡°Yeah. Now he¡¯s scared of a girl with freckles.¡± Charlie gave them all a look. ¡°You all realize we sound like a bunch of gossiping grandmas, right?¡± Jeremy floated past. ¡°Ghost grandmas.¡± Everyone laughed¡ªexcept Evan. Evan crossed his arms, but his scowl was cracking slightly. He hated this. He hated seeing Michael like this¡ªhuman, nervous, almost¡­ normal. It was easier when Michael was just a target. A bully. SOMETHING HE HAD TO DESTROY BUT NOT WITHOUT MAKING HIM SUFFER!!!! But this? This was different. And Evan didn¡¯t know what to do with it. Cassidy leaned over, voice low and sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t forget what he did. None of this changes that.¡± Evan nodded stiffly, but his chest felt tight. Because part of him remembered Michael as something else, too. Not just the bully. But the brother who used to pull him out of trees when he got stuck. Who used to read comics with him when Dad wasn¡¯t home. But that Michael was gone. And this one didn¡¯t deserve to be happy. Right?
Mary. 1 Day Before the Party...
Mary was about ten seconds away from punching a wall. Or maybe quitting her job and setting the entire restaurant on fire. Either option felt equally reasonable after another night of dealing with The Rat. That thing had been worse than ever. It was lingering outside the office for longer, moving in ways that didn¡¯t match the others. Carl had half-joked that it was evolving. Mary was 90% sure it was trying to emotionally break her. So, by the time she dragged herself back home, still smelling vaguely like fryer grease and existential dread, she was done with everything. And then Michael showed up on her doorstep, awkwardly shuffling like he had forgotten how legs worked. Mary leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You here to drag me to another movie marathon, or did you finally come to admit I¡¯m funnier than you?¡± Michael snorted, but there was an edge of nervousness to it. ¡°Nah, you¡¯d get too cocky if I admitted that.¡± Mary smirked but watched him closely. He was fidgeting¡ªhands in his pockets, shifting his weight¡ªclassic Michael Trying to Be Casual But Absolutely Not Casual At All behavior. That set off alarms. ¡°¡­What do you want?¡± she asked, narrowing her eyes. Michael rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Okay, so¡­ tomorrow¡¯s my birthday.¡± Mary blinked. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡± Michael paused. ¡°¡­You do?¡± Mary rolled her eyes. ¡°We hang out all the time. I know things. Continue.¡± Michael cleared his throat, trying and failing to look nonchalant. ¡°Some of my friends are throwing this¡­ thing. Kind of a small party. Just hanging out, nothing crazy. Thought maybe you¡¯d wanna come?¡± Mary opened her mouth to politely decline. She had planned on sleeping for twenty hours straight. Maybe eating something that wasn¡¯t pizza or fast food. But then she thought about The Rat. The stress. The fear. The exhaustion. And then she thought about Michael. Him smirking at her dumb jokes. Him making her feel normal when everything else was hell. God, she needed a break. ¡°¡­Yeah,¡± she blurted out before her brain could argue. ¡°Yeah, okay. I¡¯ll come.¡± Michael blinked like he hadn¡¯t expected that to work. ¡°Wait¡ªreally?¡± Mary laughed weakly. ¡°Why do you sound surprised?¡± Michael shrugged, smirking. ¡°Figured you¡¯d rather be sleeping or plotting the Rat¡¯s demise.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll still plot his demise,¡± Mary said. ¡°But I can multitask.¡± There was a pause, the kind that lasted just a second too long to be normal. Michael¡¯s eyes softened a bit, and Mary felt that now-familiar twist in her chest¡ªthe one that said this was more than friendship, but she was absolutely not ready to admit that. She ignored it, because that was the mature thing to do, obviously. ¡°So,¡± she said, breaking the moment before it could kill her, ¡°who¡¯s coming? Anyone I should mentally prepare for?¡± Michael laughed. ¡°Kelly, for one. So, brace yourself for alcohol.¡± Mary grinned. ¡°I won''t be drinking then.¡± Michael shifted again, but this time, it felt different. Like he was relieved. Like having her there mattered more than he was letting on. Mary noticed¡ªbut didn¡¯t call him out on it. Because she got it. She knew his home life was a mess. She knew birthdays probably weren¡¯t exactly happy celebrations in the Afton household. If this party¡ªthis dumb little gathering¡ªgave him something good? She¡¯d be there. ¡°So,¡± she said, grinning to lighten the mood, ¡°should I bring a present? Or is my sparkling personality gift enough?¡± Michael rolled his eyes. ¡°Just show up. That¡¯s the gift.¡± Mary mock-gasped. ¡°Michael. That was almost sweet. Who are you, and what have you done with my emotionally constipated friend?¡± Michael groaned, shoving her shoulder lightly. ¡°Yeah, okay, regret inviting you now.¡± Mary laughed, and for the first time in days, it felt real. Happy Birthday! Mary.
Mary stood at the front door, fingers twitching against her jacket, trying to look like a calm, functional person. She wasn¡¯t. Her stomach was doing backflips, and her brain was screaming at her. You don¡¯t know these people. You¡¯ve only heard their names. This is Michael¡¯s inner circle. These are his friends. This is important. What the hell are you doing here? She could still turn around, right? Say she was sick. A sudden bout of food poisoning. Maybe claim The Rat followed her home. Before she could commit to her cowardice, the door swung open. Kelly. Thank God. ¡°Mary!¡± Kelly grinned, leaning against the doorframe like she¡¯d been expecting this exact nervous breakdown. Mary tried to play it cool. ¡°Hey.¡± Kelly arched an eyebrow. ¡°You look like you¡¯re trying to escape your body mentally.¡± ¡°Accurate.¡± Kelly laughed, stepping aside. ¡°Come on in. You¡¯re stuck with us now.¡± Inside, the house was warm, filled with the sound of casual laughter and music playing low in the background. And there they were¡ªthe friends. Tom, perched on the arm of a couch, holding a half-eaten bag of chips like it was his life¡¯s work, smirking like he was born to cause problems. Jeremiah (or Jeremy, apparently), leaning back in a chair, broad, confident, like the kind of guy who had perfected the art of looking relaxed and ready to start shit at the same time. They all looked up when she entered. Mary froze. ¡°Guys, this is Mary,¡± Kelly said, waving a hand like she was presenting a contestant on a game show. ¡°The Mary?¡± Tom said, grinning. ¡°Michael¡¯s Mary?¡± Jeremy added, eyes narrowing with playful interest. Mary¡¯s brain short-circuited immediately. Michael¡¯s Mary?! Kelly clapped her hands loudly, cutting through the noise. ¡°Alright, morons. Let her breathe before you scare her off.¡± Mary chuckled weakly, though her face was already warming. Michael¡¯s Mary. What the hell does that mean? Before Mary could get her bearings, Kelly swooped to the punch bowl like a protective hawk. ¡°You¡ªaway from this.¡± She pointed accusingly at Mary, who threw up her hands in surrender. ¡°Oh, come on! It was one time!¡± Tom snorted. ¡°One time too many.¡± Jeremy grinned. ¡°Legendary, though.¡± Mary groaned, face heating up again. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was spiked!¡± Kelly crossed her arms. ¡°And yet, you managed to traumatize an entire room.¡± Tom nodded sagely, dead serious. ¡°I saw my life flash before my eyes just from hearing about it.¡± Mary buried her face in her hands, laughing through the embarrassment. Great. Fantastic start.
After the punch trial ended, Mary found herself relaxing a little. They talked about nothing and everything¡ªschool, terrible jobs, some story about Tom accidentally setting a toaster on fire. They were easy to talk to. She could see why Michael liked them. But Michael still wasn¡¯t here. And every time the door made a sound, she looked up before she could stop herself. Mary was mid-sip of soda, finally thinking she was safe, when Jeremy slid into the seat beside her, too casual. ¡°So,¡± he said, grinning like a man about to ruin her life, ¡°Michael¡¯s my best friend.¡± Mary froze mid-sip. ¡°¡­Okay?¡± Jeremy leaned in slightly, still grinning but with that dangerous edge of sincerity. ¡°And, you know, he¡¯s been through a lot. I¡¯m just saying¡­ if you hurt him¡ª¡± Mary nearly spat out her drink. ¡°WAIT. HOLD ON. IS THIS A SHOVEL TALK?!¡± Everyone in the room turned to look. Tom paused mid-chip. Kelly¡¯s eyes went wide before she started laughing so hard she had to hold onto the counter. Jeremy looked confused at her outburst. ¡°Uh. Yeah? I thought you¡¯d¡ª¡± ¡°I HAVEN¡¯T GOTTEN ONE OF THESE BEFORE!¡± Mary yelled, voice high-pitched with panic. ¡°WHY AM I GETTING A SHOVEL TALK?! WE¡¯RE NOT¡ªWE¡¯RE NOT DATING! OH MY GOD!¡± Jeremy blinked slowly, gears visibly turning in his head. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not?¡± Mary¡¯s face was on fire. ¡°NO!¡± Jeremy leaned back, hands up. ¡°Oh. Shit. Nobody told me. I thought¡ªyou guys just¡ª¡± ¡°EVERYONE THINKS THAT! WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT?!!¡± Kelly wheeled around, still laughing. ¡°Because you¡¯re embarrassingly obvious when drunk, Mary!¡± Mary buried her face in her hands, dying internally. Jeremy looked like he wanted to crawl under the couch. ¡°Sorry. My bad. You two just¡ªuh, vibe, I guess.¡± Mary groaned into her palms. Tom, watching the carnage unfold, leaned toward Mary. ¡°You know,¡± he said, grinning, ¡°Michael¡¯s gonna be pissed he missed this.¡± Mary snapped her head up. ¡°DON¡¯T YOU DARE TELL HIM.¡± Tom face palled and nodded before taking another chip. Sensing her fragile state, Tom graciously switched the topic. ¡°Hey, did Michael ever tell you about the Great Skateboard Incident?¡± Mary perked up, grateful for the distraction. ¡°No. But please tell me everything.¡± Tom leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°So, picture this: Michael, age thirteen, trying to impress a girl named Jessica¡ª¡± ¡°Oh god,¡± Mary muttered. ¡°¡ªdecides it would be super cool to skateboard down the school hill. Fast. No brakes.¡± Mary winced in anticipation. ¡°Flies into a bush. Screaming. The girl leaves with someone else.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Mary howled with laughter, the lingering heat in her face finally fading.
Mary was mid-laugh, wiping tears from her eyes as Tom finished recounting Michael¡¯s legendary fight with a goose. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t stop chasing him!¡± Tom wheezed. ¡°He¡ªhe jumped a fence like his life depended on it. I swear, I thought he was gonna join the circus after that.¡± Mary was gasping for air, her stomach aching from laughter. ¡°Stop! I can¡¯t breathe¡ª¡± The door swung open, and Michael walked in¡ªcake in hand, cheeks pink from the cold outside. ¡°Hey¡ªsorry I¡¯m late,¡± he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. ¡°Grandpa and Liz threw me a mini party, wouldn¡¯t let me leave without cake¡ª¡± He paused. He heard the word ¡°goose.¡± He saw Mary dying of laughter. He saw Tom smirking like a man who had committed war crimes. Michael¡¯s face fell in real-time. ¡°Oh no,¡± he whispered. ¡°What did you tell her?!¡± Michael hurriedly placed the cake on the nearest table¡ªalmost missing it¡ªand launched himself at Tom like he was tackling a quarterback. ¡°Shut up! Shut up, you traitor!¡± Tom laughed, dodging. ¡°Too late, man. She knows. She knows everything.¡± Mary was in tears, barely holding herself together. ¡°Oh my god¡ªMichael¡ªwhat is your life?!¡± Michael whirled around, betrayed. ¡°You think this is funny?!¡± Mary gasped between giggles. ¡°YES. It¡¯s so much worse than I imagined.¡± Michael covered his face with both hands, dying inside. ¡°Why would you do this to me?¡± he groaned at Tom. Tom grinned, entirely unapologetic. ¡°Brotherhood means nothing when there¡¯s entertainment at stake.¡± Mary, sensing weakness, leaned in, voice dripping with fake sweetness. ¡°So, Michael¡­ how¡¯s your relationship with geese these days?¡± Michael stared at her like she had personally ended his bloodline. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Oh! And the skateboard bush incident¡ªhow¡¯s your recovery from that?¡± Michael let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scream and a laugh, waving his hands like he was surrendering. ¡°I will leave. I will actually walk out of my own party.¡± Mary grinned wickedly. ¡°No, you won¡¯t. You brought cake.¡± Michael paused, looked at the cake, and sighed in defeat. ¡°She¡¯s got me,¡± he said, slumping onto the couch. As the laughter settled into warm chatter, Jeremy leaned against the wall, watching Mary and Michael trade jabs like a comedy duo. He opened his mouth, smirking. ¡°You two are seriously¡ª¡± Mary shot him a glare so sharp it could¡¯ve cut glass. Jeremy froze mid-sentence. ¡°¡ªgreat friends. You¡¯re great friends.¡± Mary narrowed her eyes. Jeremy mouthed ¡®sorry¡¯. Michael, blissfully unaware, was cutting into the cake. The cake was far from professional-looking, but it was good¡ªMichaels''s sister and Grandpa had gone heavy on the frosting, which was clearly more love than skill, but no one cared. They ate, talked, and fell into the kind of easy rhythm that only comes when everyone is comfortable with each other. Mary felt¡­ good. She wasn¡¯t on edge. She wasn¡¯t thinking about work. She wasn¡¯t thinking about the animatronics. Or the Factory. She was just here¡ªwith Michael, his friends, and bad cake. And it was nice. Until the singing started. ¡°Come on, Mary! You too!¡± Kelly called out, grinning as she gestured wildly. Mary tried to resist. She did. But the entire group was singing, and Michael¡ªstupid, blushing Michael¡ªwas sitting there with a cake that looked like it had been made with more enthusiasm than skill. And he was smiling. Mary grumbled, but she joined in, feeling her face heat up as she awkwardly sang Happy Birthday with everyone. Michael glanced at her mid-song, and for a brief second, their eyes met. His smile got a little wider. Mary immediately looked away, because her heart did a weird thing and she hated it.
After the cake massacre, gifts started getting passed around. Kelly got him a cassette tape of a band Michael liked, which came with a snarky note about not breaking it like the last one. Tom handed over a T-shirt with some weird character on it, which made Michael laugh hard enough that he almost dropped his fork. Then they all looked at Jeremy, expectantly. Jeremy froze mid-drink. ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t get anything,¡± he lied terribly. Everyone stared. Kelly narrowed her eyes. ¡°You said last week you had a ¡®perfect idea.¡¯¡± Jeremy raised a finger in panic. ¡°I was drunk.¡± Tom grinned. ¡°No, you weren¡¯t.¡± Michael frowned, confused but amused. ¡°Dude, what is it?¡± Jeremy looked like he was about to face a firing squad. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ um. In the closet. Just¡ªjust come here.¡± Mary¡¯s gut instinct said danger. Michael shrugged, standing up. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see it.¡± Mary, curious, followed¡ªbecause this had disaster written all over it. Jeremy led them to a closet at the end of the hall, looking like a man walking to his execution. ¡°Okay,¡± he said, clasping his hands together in mock prayer. ¡°God, spare me from the consequences of what I¡¯m about to do.¡± Michael frowned. ¡°What?¡± Before either of them could react, Jeremy threw open the closet door. Mary saw brooms, jackets, and a depressingly small amount of space. Then Jeremy shoved both of them inside. The door slammed shut. The lock clicked. Michael blinked in shock. Mary¡¯s brain hadn¡¯t caught up yet. ¡°What the¡ªJeremy?!¡± Michael banged on the door. Jeremy¡¯s muffled voice came through: ¡°Sorry! It¡¯s for your own good!¡± Distant laughter. Kelly. Tom. Traitors. Mary¡¯s fury ignited like a volcano. ¡°OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD¡ª¡± Jeremy cut her off. ¡°Love you both¡ªhope you don¡¯t kill me after this. Be back in ten minutes! Bye!¡± Mary heard rapid footsteps as he ran for his life. Kelly¡¯s voice, laughing: ¡°Ten-minute timer starts now!¡± Tom: ¡°This is the best thing you¡¯ve ever done.¡± Mary pressed both hands to the door, breathing like a dragon preparing to incinerate a village. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill him. I¡¯m going to find him, and¡ª¡± She stopped. Because Michael shifted beside her, and his arm brushed hers. Mary froze completely. Suddenly, the fact that the closet was barely big enough for one person became very, very real. Michael¡¯s chest was brushing her shoulder every time he inhaled. Their legs were almost touching. It was dark, and warm, and Michael smelled like soap and cake frosting, and Mary¡¯s brain was absolutely not built to handle this. Her rage was still there, but it was being drowned out by sheer panic. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Michael asked quietly, his voice way too close to her ear. Mary squeaked. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Michael shifted slightly, and his knee bumped hers again. Mary¡¯s soul left her body.
Mike.
Michael was trying his best to be calm. He was failing horribly. Because Mary was right there. And they were touching. And his brain was short-circuiting. Say something normal. Don¡¯t be weird. ¡°So, uh,¡± Michael cleared his throat, ¡°you enjoying the party?¡± Mary turned her head slightly, eyes wide. ¡°Michael. We are locked in a closet.¡± Michael winced. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know why I asked that.¡± They both laughed nervously, still standing so close that their arms brushed again. Michael felt like he might actually die.
Mary.
Mary was going to kill Jeremy. No, worse. She was going to haunt him. Forever. The closet was tiny. Smaller than she¡¯d realized when she got shoved in here with Michael. It was cramped, dark, and warm, the air getting stuffy fast¡ªand Michael¡¯s shoulder was pressed against hers. Their arms brushed with every twitch. His leg was next to hers. Their hips bumped if either of them shifted a little too much. And he smelled good¡ªsoap, a little cologne, and cake frosting¡ªwhich was offensively attractive given that this was supposed to be a stupid prank. Mary was losing her mind. Michael, bless his awkward soul, was also panicking, but his version was nervous rambling. ¡°So, uh¡­ yeah, they¡¯re definitely not letting us out soon,¡± Michael said, voice low, but slightly strained. ¡°I think Jeremy¡¯s probably halfway to Mexico by now. You know, witness protection. And Kelly¡ªKelly¡¯s definitely filming this or something. This is gonna haunt me forever.¡± Mary pressed her back against the wall, trying to create space that didn¡¯t exist, but it just made her thigh press against his more. She was so hyper-aware of his body that she couldn¡¯t even focus on her anger anymore. Her heart was pounding, her skin felt hot, and her brain was screaming at her: Don¡¯t do anything stupid. Don¡¯t think about his lips. Don¡¯t¡ª Michael, clearly trying to fill the unbearable tension, kept talking. ¡°I mean, this isn¡¯t the worst birthday, I guess. Cake was good. Until I heard about the goose thing. That was¡­ yeah, I¡¯m never living that down, huh?¡± Mary wasn¡¯t listening. Because the heat¡ªthe closeness, his voice, and her heart racing like a goddamn freight train¡ªwas too much. Screw it. Her brain short-circuited, and before she could stop herself, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was meant to be quick, just a dumb, playful thing to break the tension¡ªexcept her lips lingered a second too long. The second she pulled back, her brain caught up. Oh my god. Oh my god, what did I just do? Michael froze mid-sentence. Like, literally froze. Mouth open. Words dead. Silence. Awful, deafening silence. Mary¡¯s entire body flushed red. She laughed, but it came out high-pitched and desperate. ¡°Ha! Uh¡­ happy birthday? That was¡ªlike¡ªa gift. You know, since I didn¡¯t bring one. Joke kiss. Just a joke. Ha.¡± Michael blinked slowly, processing. ¡°Oh. Uh¡­ thanks?¡± They both stared at each other, barely breathing. It was so hot in there¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t just the heat. The air between them felt different. Mary¡¯s heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she thought Michael could probably hear it. Michael¡¯s hand twitched by his side. He was looking at her, really looking, like he was seeing her for the first time¡ªor maybe like he¡¯d been seeing her this whole time and just hadn¡¯t known what to do about it. And then¡ªhe moved. Slowly, like he was giving her time to pull away. Like he was scared he was making a mistake. But he lifted his hand, gently cupping her cheek, and leaned in. Mary¡¯s brain screamed in panic, but her body didn¡¯t move away. Their lips met, and it was soft and unsure, but it felt right. Warm. His hand was trembling slightly against her face, and her hands clutched his shirt like she needed something to hold onto. It was awkward but somehow perfect. They pulled back after a few seconds, both wide-eyed, breathless, and red-faced. Mary stared at him. Michael stared back, mouth slightly open like he was trying to think of words and failing completely. ¡°¡­Oh,¡± Mary whispered. ¡°¡­Yeah,¡± Michael breathed. There was another pause, and then Mary suddenly laughed. ¡°Oh, what the hell,¡± she muttered. And she grabbed his shirt and kissed him again. This time, Michael kissed her back without hesitation. Her hands slid up into his hair. His fingers pressed gently into her waist. And for a minute, the cramped, sweaty closet didn¡¯t exist. It was just them. When they finally broke apart again, both of them were breathing heavily, faces completely flushed. Mary leaned back against the wall, dazed. Michael ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a complete idiot but also like he might faint. ¡°So¡­ uh¡­¡± Michael started. Mary held up a hand to stop him. ¡°Don¡¯t. I¡¯m processing.¡± Michael nodded quickly, equally overwhelmed. ¡°Yeah. Processing. Cool. Same.¡± They sat in silence for another minute, occasionally glancing at each other and immediately looking away when their eyes met. Mary¡¯s lips were still tingling.
Eventually, the closet door creaked open, revealing Kelly and Tom grinning like they¡¯d won the lottery. Kelly raised an eyebrow. ¡°You two didn¡¯t kill each other?¡± Mary straightened, trying to act normal. ¡°Nope. Totally fine.¡± Michael nodded too quickly. ¡°Fine. Yep. Great.¡± Tom squinted. ¡°You guys are weird.¡± Kelly frowned slightly, eyes narrowing like she sensed something¡ªbut before she could say anything, Jeremy¡¯s head peeked around the corner, cautious like a man fearing execution. Mary locked eyes with him. Jeremy froze. ¡°Run,¡± Mary said. Jeremy ran. Mary was right behind him.