Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Fourteen: The Fourth Night

  The fraying box of tapes strained against Mike's hands as he leapt from Violet's car, his mind racing with the panic of the night.  Violet slammed the door behind her, flipping her hair haphazardly behind.  She walked with purpose, a certain weight levying off her shoulders.  Mike watched her carefully as she unlocked the door, her face flush with color and her lips still a bright ruby red.  Her blue eyes flashed through the darkness from the rusty keyhole to him. 
  "What?" She snapped.  Mike shook his head, smiling. 
  "Nothing, I'm sorry.  You just look... you look like you're floating."  Violet relaxed, smirking. 
  "You'd be floating too if you'd just defeated one of your demons for the sake of an old box of tapes." 
  "Was it just for the tapes?"  Violet paused as the key snapped into place, then shook her head, smiling softly. 
  "No.  It was for me too.  And Thomas." 
  "I'm proud of you, Violet."  She pushed the door open, drumming her fingers on the glass.  Mike took a step inside, glancing back around only when Violet cleared her throat softly. 
  "Um, thanks," she stammered, tossing her hair back, "for... listening tonight.  I guess." 
  "Of course." 
  "You..." she struggled, wincing, "... you can call me Vi, by the way.  That's what the Glenns always called me.  Vi.  I guess I do kind of miss it.  Someone... ought to use it." 
  "Okay," Mike smirked, "goodnight, Vi." 
  "I'll see you in the morning, Mike." 

  Mike slumped down in the chair sleepily, setting the box down out of sight under the desk.  He massaged his temples, looking at the wall of children's drawings.  He adjusted the monitor, causing the static to spring to life.  The animatronics stood motionless as they had done time and time before.  The clock chimed and the phone rang, as though on cue.  Mike growled, wrenching the phone handle up from the rest of its body, frustration coursing through him. 
  "Who the Hell is this?" He snapped.
  "Hello, hello?"  The phone replied shakily.  "Hey! Hey, wow, day four. I knew you could do it."
  "No thanks to you and your dumb recorded message," Mike snapped, sitting up straight, his voice rising, "so why don't you tell me who the Hell you really are?"
  "Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow," the phone continued, the sound of haunting banging breaking through his voice.  Mike furrowed his brow. "It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you..." he tried nervously, clearing his throat, "uh, when I did."
  "What?" Mike muttered, more to himself than anyone who may or may not be on the line. 
  "Uh, hey, do me a favor," it continued over more banging, "maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room?"  Mike felt green. 
  "What are you playing me?" He snapped, "turn it off, I'm hanging up!"  Despite his threats, his elbow stayed locked, the phone frozen in place. 
  "I'm gonna to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won't be so bad."  Mike winced as the voice cut out over the metallic knocking on the door, frequent and firm, not unlike what Mike himself had heard on nights here alone.  "Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there."
  "...Thomas?" Mike tried desperately, as though he could change the events of the past.  Over a small moan Mike had heard his first night, the voice continued, or at least tried to. 
  "You know... oh, no -!" Mike's ear throbbed as the animatronic screech on the other end of the line rang through his office.  From down the hall, frozen on stage, the three animatronics stood stalk still, their mouths hanging open and an ungodly screech ringing in unison with the recorded demise of Thomas Glenn.  Mike slammed the receiver down, the building falling silent at once.  His monitor flickered briefly, a golden visage of Freddy that felt oddly familiar like some long forgotten dream flashing on screen before static took over to reveal the three animatronics vacant from their spaces.  Mike shook his head, frantically searching through cameras as he located them one by one, his mind rolling on muscle memory through the doors, cameras, lights, doors, cameras, lights, doors...  As Bonnie came around the corner, he slammed the door down, the terror ebbing from experience.  A paper tacked to the wall fell from its fastening and onto the ground, sliding under the desk.  Mike noticed it briefly, but it soon left his mind as Bonnie knocked on the door, his huge face blocking out the window.  Mike turned his attention back to the screens, closing the door to his right as Chica came round the other end of the hall. 
  "God dammit!" He cried, watching his power flicker.  He shook his head as though to clear it, bringing his attention to the fox who'd brought his head out from the curtain.  "Don't, please..." Mike begged, the screen going static momentarily.  When it returned, the fox was gone and sprinting toward the office full speed.  Mike took a step back from the window as the animatronic collided with the closed door, the hinges squeaking from force.  Mike gasped as the fox tried again.  Again.  Mike splayed out across the door, as though keeping his body weight on an object that opened and closed vertically would help.  With each shake, he felt his heart beat as hard as the animatronic did, his eyes jamming shut.  "I..." he tried between yelps from the force, "I... I'm just trying to help!" He screamed.