The office was easy enough to find. Flashlight on the desk. He took it. Beside it, the Freddy mask and the security tablet. Behind the desk were lockers. He opened one and pulled out a purple vest, a matching hat, and a shiny badge.
The same uniform Jeremy would've worn. Mike held the vest for a moment too long. Just stiff purple fabric with his name tag on it. He pulled it on anyway, forced the thought down, and grabbed the tablet.
Key in his pocket. Tablet in hand. He decided to explore places he wasn't allowed to before as a regular visitor.
Past the private party rooms, the hall opened into Parts and Service.
The older models stood inside, withered and broken. Freddy slumped forward, his suit torn open, wires spilling from his torso. Bonnie's face was gone entirely; only his lower jaw remained, hanging slack. Two dark, empty sockets stared out from where his face used to be. Chica leaned against the wall, her beak cracked, bib stained and frayed. Both arms ended in tangles of bare wire where her hands should have been. Foxy stood rigid in the corner, hook raised, some fur missing, teeth permanently bared.
The originals. He didn't need the newspapers to tell him what they were. The silence in the room was the same kind he remembered from the scooping room.
He checked the cameras as he walked. One fed the music box. He tested it remotely. The gauge rose. Good. At least that worked.
His footsteps echoed back at him, too loud in the empty hall. At the stage, closed curtains hid the Toy animatronics' colorful silhouettes that were currently motionless.
A noise echoed. His grip tightened on the flashlight.
They were moving. Time to get back.
He sank into the chair and started scanning. Static flicker. Hallways empty and dim.
Most of them were moving now. Creaks. Shuffles. Footsteps echoing where the halls had been still.
He checked the music box gauge constantly, tapping it every few moments to keep it wound.
They were all moving now.
Toy Bonnie in the left vent. Toy Chica in the right. He flipped through feeds: Main Hall, Party Rooms, both vents, Prize Corner.
Music box. Wind. Check vents. Check hall. Repeat.
The pattern settled. Manageable, barely.
Toy Bonnie in the office. Mask on. Vision narrowed to eyeholes. Mechanical whirring, close. Footsteps retreating. Mask off.
The first hour crawled by. He kept pace.
The music box gauge dipped into the red. He'd been watching the vents. Missed it. His thumb jabbed the control; the music stuttered, then resumed.
The gauge climbed back to safety.
Activity picked up. Toy Chica in the office. Mask on, wait for a bit, then take it off.
He flipped through cameras, vents, music box, wind. Lowered the tablet. Withered Freddy stood in front of him.
Mask on, one smooth motion. Heavy, mechanical breathing just feet away. He sat still. Waited a few extra seconds, then pulled the mask off.
Withered Foxy in the hallway, motionless. Hook raised. Jaw hanging. His eyes fixed on the office. The flashlight was in his hand. He aimed, clicked it on. The beam caught Foxy's mangled frame.
Foxy's head snapped aside, metal grinding. He turned and stalked toward Parts & Service, the sound of his steps fading. Mike lowered the flashlight.
The rhythm continued. Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica, Withered Chica. Mask on, off, on, off. Flash the hall. Wind the box. Close calls, but handling it.
Four hours down.
Right vent camera. Mangle's twisted frame filled the feed wires trailing, two heads twitching at different angles. He filed it away and flipped to the music box. The gauge was low. Critically low.
He wound it, eyes on the Prize Corner feed. Office check. Empty. Good. Back to vents. Right vent: empty. He looked up. Mangle hung from the ceiling, body suspended by wires, both heads aimed downward. Metal joints clicked. One head's jaw slack, the other twitching erratically. From somewhere in her broken frame, her damaged voice box emitted a grating, relentless static.
Mask on. Mangle didn't move. He waited. Still nothing. Mask off, slow. Mangle stayed suspended, twitching, watching. Wasn't leaving.
Back to the cameras. She could attack any moment he knew that. Nothing to do. The mask didn't work on her. She was just... there. Waiting.
He kept working. Music box. Vents. Hall. Mangle hung above him, a threat he couldn't remove.
Toy Freddy in the office. Mask on. Slow, mechanical breathing. Footsteps retreating. Off.
Back to cameras. Music box. Wind. Left vent: Withered Bonnie. Right vent: Withered Chica. Toy Bonnie. Mask on. Off. Relentless now. Something new every few seconds.
Withered Foxy in the hallway. The flashlight beam hit Foxy's eye. He covered his eye, then headed back toward Parts & Service. Mike lowered the light and returned to the tablet.
The office seemed smaller each time they entered. Mangle stayed overhead, twitching, both heads aimed down.
Mangle's broken voice box blared overhead. The noise filled his head, a wall of static that made it impossible to pick out footsteps.
He flipped back to the camera's music box, then the vents. He didn't hear the faint scrape of metal on tile as a small figure crawled in from the left vent and settled in the corner.
5:58 AM. He looked up from the tablet. Withered Foxy in the hallway. Hook raised. Jaw hanging. Staring directly at him.
He grabbed the flashlight in an attempt to use it to get rid of Foxy, but it wouldn't turn on.
His eyes snapped to the corner. Balloon Boy stood there, batteries in his hand, grinning. "Hi! Hello!" *When did he—?*
He looked back. Foxy hadn't moved, but he only had minutes before their morning program sent them back to the stage.
Mike could only sit in the office and keep the others away while hoping Mangle or Foxy didn't make a move.
5:59 AM. Foxy took a step forward. Mike's grip on the dead flashlight didn't matter. Another step. Balloon Boy giggled. Another step. He wound the music box one more time, eyes on Foxy. Mangle's voice box crackled louder, a shrieking static. Another step. Closer. Foxy raised his hook.
Mike's watch beeped. 6:00 AM.
Foxy's hook stopped inches from his face. The animatronic shuddered once then turned. He walked back toward the hallway. The other animatronics were moving too. Returning to their stages. The day programming had kicked in sending them back to where they belonged.
All those animatronic noises in the building seemed to have finally died down. Mike was about to get up and leave when he noticed Foxy.
Foxy stopped mid-step. A shudder ran through him then he turned. Slowly. His eye found Mike's. The programming meant nothing when the kid inside wasn't done.