Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Eighteen: But Wait, There's More

The paper had all but written itself by the time Mike had biked back to his motel room. Greedy Boss murders kids for revenge; sacrifices wellbeing of employees for financial gain. It was starting to add up to Mike as he flipped through his notebook: budget cuts and cut corners led to an initial state of danger. Dexter didn't stand a chance when his brother acted out, there were no precautions in place to save him. The accident tanked the new business, a mistake Iris would never recover from, and it was all Jack Glenn's fault. He killed him, taking the lawsuits as they came. With a seedy lawyer and a shady nonverbal contract between the patrons and franchise, he was safe from bankruptcy for the time being. The animatronics were unstable, leading to the death of Thomas Glenn and other night guards, but Iris's greed prevented him from allowing Violet Jackson, Fritz Smith, or anyone else from fixing them from their violent natures. In the meantime, Iris would tamper with footage and deny, deny, deny. It all mostly fit. There was just one problem Mike couldn't wrap his head around.
"What did the four other kids have to do with this?" Mike wondered aloud, "sure, they were all there the day of the bite but if this was a revenge plot, surely Iris would have valued money lost in lawsuits over the concept of vengeance? And what did Arthur Toreor have to do with any of this?" He scratched his head, scribbling a doodle of Freddy Fazbear in the corner of his notebook. "What a mess..."

A knock interrupted him from his thoughts. He lifted himself from the bed, expecting housekeeping.
"The sign says do not disturb," Mike called, leaning back down to brain storm some more. A second round of knocks came from the door. He groaned, stomping over and wrenching the door open. Jeremy Fitzgerald looked at him, bags under his eyes. "Jeremy?"
"Mike," Jeremy greeted, relaxing, "there was a rumor in town you hadn't made it last night. Something about a police phone call and Iris shutting down?"
"I think... some things were lost in translation," Mike assured, stepping aside, "come in, please." Jeremy took a step in, a ratty blue sweater riddled with holes hanging off his skinny arms. He took a seat at the foot of the bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Are you alright?"
"Adjusting from prison life isn't exactly easy," Jeremy chuckled, "I forgot to go to sleep last night, and then after I heard about you I couldn't sleep." He paused. "Is it true there was another bite?"
"More or less," Mike agreed, "he's going to be fine, the janitor bumped into Freddy while he was cleaning." Jeremy nodded darkly.
"How was Violet?"
"... disturbed," Mike agreed tentatively, "especially after Iris and her got into it. I'm hoping she'll be okay now though."
"What's this about a police phone call?" Jeremy tried, "I thought we weren't going to involve them?"
"We're not," Mike agreed, "I needed their tech for a second... I've been getting phone calls every night. Someone is calling me from inside the restaurant and playing recordings of Thomas Glenn."
"What?" Jeremy asked, pale. Mike nodded. "But... isn't Thomas...?"
"Dead, yes," Mike agreed, "Violet said he was crushed inside an old spring lock suit."
"They still have that thing?" Jeremy asked, "I thought they would have gotten rid of it after eighty seven."
"Why?" Jeremy shrugged.
"Something Thomas mentioned back then, something about someone wearing the old suit to lure the kids backstage. The police took the footage, I assumed they had taken the costume too. I think Bonnie was the one that was involved in the murders."
"And Fred Bear was the bite," Mike agreed, "as far as I know they were both in storage until Thomas died.  Now, at least Bonnie's gone seeing as how there was a cadaver inside him three months ago.  I'm not sure about Fred Bear."
"You won't find out, either," Jeremy pressed, "Iris doesn't get rid of anything, but that doesn't mean that he wants you to see it.  He's probably got a secret room somewhere filled with old animatronics."
"... could he be hiding bodies too?" Jeremy's mouth tightened.  "I've got to get back into that restaurant.  Now."
"It's no use, Mike," Jeremy argued, "Iris doesn't do weekends anymore, not since the bite."
"I'm not asking him to open," Mike argued, "I just want to do the night shift."
"And have him pay overtime?" Jeremy scoffed, "good luck, Schmidt." 
"I'll do it for free."
"It'll look suspicious.  The only way you're getting in is by breaking in or by somehow convincing Iris it was his idea to let you in in the first place."  Mike scratched his chin. 
"I may have an idea." 

Despite the cold, Mike peddled as fast as his legs would carry him.  He could feel the pressure building as he rounded the curb into Iris's neighborhood and skidded to a vault before his two story house.  He collected his breath before dropping the bike on the lawn and sprinting to the door, ringing the doorbell furiously.  A small commotion came from inside as Iris neared the door wearily, his outline barely visible in the window beside the door.  He opened the door, squinting at Mike with his nose slightly wrinkled and his hair disheveled. 
"Mike?  Are you okay?" Mike caught his breath, nodding. 
"Yes, sir," he panted, "I had to hurry, though.  I had to warn you."
"Warn me?"  Iris stuttered, "about what?"
"Jeremy Fitzgerald is on parole."  Iris paled. 
"How did you-?"
"Please sir, I've worked at Freddy's for a week now, I hear things," Mike justified hurriedly.  "I heard talk today at the diner.  Apparently he's saying he's got something planned for this weekend.  He knows you're going out of business and he wants to do something to torch any remaining evidence against him, once and for all." 
"Good God," Iris stuttered, turning to retreat inside, "we have to call Officer Jesse-!"
"No need," Mike interrupted, "I already called him.  He can't do anything until Fitzgerald actually breaks his parole.  We're stuck."  Iris leaned against the doorframe, rubbing his temples in distress. 
"What am I going to do?" 
"What if you hired Violet to watch the place?" Mike attempted.  Iris soured. 
"Knowing her, she'd help him just to spite me.  No... I need someone I can trust.  Someone loyal... someone..." his eyes wandered toward Mike.  "Mr. Schmidt... are you busy this weekend?"  Mike smiled. 
"Not at all sir, what can I do for you?"