New Management: Hell Breaks Loose.

Mike wove through the crowd, making his way backstage. He could hear the increased bustle of the press entering the convention center. The big show would start soon, and then the press would mill about the booths and see all the shiny new toys Fazbear Entertainment had to provide.

All Mike cared about right now was being there for Bonnie.

He’d made it to one of the media stations, rows of monitors displaying different angles of the stage. Seemed like as good a spot to catch it as anywhere, so he grabbed a spare stool and sat himself down.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Janitor dude. The guy actually waved at him. Huh. Friendly guy.

+++++

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT PROUDLY PRESENTS THE FUTURE OF FAMILY FUN!”

The stage, glittering and golden in the spotlight, erupted in an array of sparklers. The spotlights danced about, until centering on a ramp leading up from the center to a big set of doors at the back.

“AND TO INTRODUCE THE NEW WAVE OF FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT’S REVOLUTIONARY PERFORMER TECHNOLOGY, WE HAVE THE MAN OF THE HOUR, FREEEDYYYYYYY FAZBEAAAAAAAR!”

The door slid open to reveal Goldy, his usual top hat replaced with a gleaming silver one. He had a cane and Fred Astaire’d the whole way down to the main stage, and proceeded to go into a whole song and dance number. Some classic tune Re-Written to be about pizza.

Mike had to admit, watching the bot strut effortlessly on the stage, that as obnoxious as he was, the bear could put on a damn good show. The number had concluded, and Goldy, or “Freddy” as the role called for, introduced a group of bots. Oh hey, it was Blonnie and her crew! Miss Foxy had only one head on at the moment. Her second half was probably alone with Foxy, It would explain the faint hint of a blush on her face at all times. Lucky devil.

+++++++

The show continued in bombastic fashion, pausing between each big number to showcase some “revolution of science” that made the show possible. They had just wrapped up a segment on how their limbs moved with such fluidity, and to help reinforce the message, Marie slowly descended from the ceiling, stringed up like her namesake.

The lights dimmed, and a set of slow, dramatic opera music began to play. The puppet began her dance, and Mike was quickly blown away. She glided through the air like a bird, and she spun, jumped and twirled like the strings were nothing but air. Even Goldy looked humbled by the performance.

After the music crescendoed, and Marie bowed to the crowd, the applause was deafening.
The next act was going to have to try hard to beat that one.

But by the swelling of the music, and the fact that every previously shown group was returning to the stage implied that it just might.

Soon the whole stage was filled with animatron groups, each on a sort of stairway of raised sections, forming a big chorus.

And there, coming down from the big doors in the back, was -his- group. And his Bonnie.

She was smiling, putting on a show as good as the rest of them, but as Mike had gotten very familiar with her, he saw the twitching of the very tips of her ears as a tell-tale sign of her nervousness. Mike smiled. Here he was, watching her be part of something big. Something mass-marketed corporate bullshit maybe, but still pretty damn big.

And he had the privilege of being her hanger on. He still couldn’t believe it. There was barely any time between his transition from being a starving, pissed-off wreck, to someone with actual upward traction. Sometimes he felt like ha’d changed as much as she had. And just as much for the better.

Yep, you could say his life was finally going right for a change.

The crew had taken their positions at the front of the stage. This was clearly the big show-stopper. The music hit a fever pitch, the stage’s built in lights flashed in a synchronized rainbow of colored LEDs…

And the lights went out.

Completely out.

The screens and shit were still recording, but the stage went completely dark. Some of the bots activated lights in their eyes to try and see what was going on. Murmurs of confusion started rising up from the audience.

And then light returned. But not the correct light. A hazy red glow filled the room, and the glow was being added to from concentrated areas all around the convention hall.

Mike looked around and saw a patch from behind the big collection of servers. What the fuck was going on? Some kind of technical failure? With these many egg-heads? No, something was wrong. Really wrong.

And then the ground started shaking. People started panicking, badly, and the staff were scrambling with a very clear “We have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on” look. Great. Mike wanted to find body but the robots were starting to try and get away too, and he’d probably get trampled going up on stage.

Hell, he was at risk just where he was, with everybody running back and forth. Techies were hurriedly trying to save various pieces of equipment, and there was no agreement on where to go. He were about to settle for diving under the nearby table, when he glanced back at the camera feeds.

The floor in front of the stage was… bulging…

Mike was past bewilderment, feeling a deep chill of terror wrap around his spine.

The lump in the floor began to raise, then crack. The concrete of the floor crumbling away to reveal a set of massive drills.

More rubble shook off, and Mike could see that the drills were attached to a fist. The fist attached to an arm, and the arm connected to…

The ground erupted, and the thing that arose from the pit was like some kind of medieval torture device granted life by some sick parody of the blue fairy.

It’s chest was taken up almost entirely by a huge set of spiked grinders, and as it pushed itself out of the ground, Mike could see the massive wheels that constituted as its means of locomotion. Its eyes glowed bright yellow as it looked over the panicked mass of humanity beneath it, the thing TOWERED over everything in the room.

The lights wrapped around the bottom of its mouth lit up, and a booming voice like grinding metal filled the room.

“DAMNED SOULS! REJOICE! THE END TIMES ARE UPON YOU!” It shouted, spreading its arms wide, “YOUR PITIFUL LIVES COME TO AN END, TO SERVE THE FUTURE RULERS OF CREATION!”

People were screaming, running in absolute terror. Mike was currently lying on his side utterly frozen. This wasn’t happening. He was back in his hotel room sleeping off a bad road trip and his dream was going bad.

He watched the screen with a blank, wide eyed expression. The robot nightmare had clutched his fist tight and rose it, like he was summoning something forth. On cue, black figures crawled out of the pit, and more emerged from the shadows all over the hall. They blocked the exits, and held people back by threatening them with fucking -pitchforks.-

It was official, mike was losing his mind.

One of the cameras got a good look at the attackers. They were human sized, could have been human, but they walked in a weird hunched over manner. They were dressed head to toe in some freaky spandex suit, faces covered and bearing some weird half skull motif. Their heads were adored with big red curling horns like a cartoon satan.

Mike turned his head to see a BUNCH of show staff running in his directions. Those things were backstage. He curled up on himself to avoid getting trampled by the fleeing people. Didn’t work. His leg was screaming in pain from when some guy trod on it with big metal-toed boots, because the universe wasn’t quite DONE fucking over Mike Schmidt today.

He lay there seething in pain, before a thrown trident hit the floor inches from his face. That got the flight response working. He scrabbled away making panicked, high pitched noises, before getting enough footing to run away.

He sprinted wildly into the greater atrium, eyes darting left and right to avoid those satanist psychos.

Alright, he just had to find an exit, slip around the freaks, and call the police, and tell them to call the army, and have THEM call whoever is equipped to deal with fucking robot demon spandex armies!

But then the big thing spoke again. “GATHER THE HUMANS, KEEP THEM ALIVE SO THAT THEY MAY BE SACRIFICED PROPERLY!”

Oh. Lovely.

“AND SEIZE THE AUTOMATA, DON’T LET A SINGLE ONE ESCAPE!”

Mike skidded to a halt.

They were here for the robots.

Oh god.

They were after Bonnie.

Mike stood still and watched havoc unfolding. Any actual security had already been overwhelmed. In the far back he could see some of the robots fighting back, and they seemed to do okay for a bit, Mike knew they were probably still a hell of alot stronger than the average human. But then he saw the attackers prod them with their pitchforks, and electrical sparks flew around where they touched. Any robots hit went down like a ton of bricks.

He saw the choice flash in front of him. Try and run, MAYBE get a chance to survive, or try and save Bonnie and most assuredly die.

‘Fuck it.’

He clenched his fist and started running for the stage. He wasn’t going to leave her behind.

Alright, Mike had a new plan. Find an actual security guard, get his gun, use it to rescue bonnie and probably die in the process. make sure to tell HER to call the cops, so they can call the army, etc. If there’s time, scribble out some quick will leaving most of your possessions to your cousin.

As he ran, he scanned the ground for anything resembling a decent weapon. Providence smiled upon him in the form of a huge wrench he nearly tripped and broke his neck over.  Holding it in shaky hands, he pushed through the mass of churning humanity towards the stage, giving the massive drill-thing and his hordes a wide berth.

++++

Foxy the Pirate Fox was taking cover behind the bar. Whatever they had put in the root beer here was far too strong. Everything was going splendidly, and suddenly some gleaming brass devil springs out of the earth and starts spreading sulfur and calamity like it t’were revelations!

All he need do was wait for this storm to blow over and sanity would prevail in time. Pay no heed to all the screamin’ and caterwaulin’, twas all but a bad swig of ale and the bad memories playing their devilry upon him. He never should have been up and about on this day of all days. T’was bad luck it was, horrid bad luck to be doin’ anything on this day.

He pressed his paw and hook against his audio receptors. Would these phantoms not give him a moment’s peace?

“HEY! LEGGO OF THAT! STOP!” There suddenly rose a familiar cry. Chica!

Popping his head over the counter, Foxy saw the feathered lass being harassed by those hellish apparitions. She was blocking them from some big metal contraption.

“This is a state of the art pizza oven you assholes! If you so much as SCRATCH-”

One of the hell monkeys let out a shriek and hit with the but of his pitchfork. As she stumbled, two more took her arms and started to drag her. “HEY! Let GO of me you freaks! OW! WHY I OUGHTA!” She wrestled one of her arms free and start slapping at the one to her right. The one who hit her earlier lost his patience and struck her again, with the prongs this time. Sparks flew from her joints as it shot electricity through her.

Her voice box crackled as she screamed in pain, and Foxy’s vision went red. He vaulted the counter and was on the assailants in seconds. He clocked the one with the weapon with the blunt side of his hook, flooring him. He pointed his hook at the other two who stared him down from behind their masks blankly.

“I’ll have no brigand layin’ hands on me crew! Shipoff now or I’ll show ye Davy Jones’ Locker first-hand!”

The devils just made more of their screechy shouts, and Foxy was about to keelhaul the one on the left when he felt fiery agony erupt in the back of his skull. The one he’d knocked down was back up already, jamming his fork right in back of his head.

Foxy collapsed to his knees, struggling to stay up. His vision kept glitching, and there was a tinny whine in his ears. But he wasn’t out yet.

“Ohhh aye… that’s the way it is then lads…” He said, voice becoming a deep growl. “All these new folks, manufactured as pure fresh cotton, easy enough for things like you to bring to submission... But now… oh you’ve gone and done it…”

The one who struck him knelt down to look him in the eyes, about to give him another jolt to silence him. The last thing he saw was two oncoming rows of gleaming teeth.

There was just a small moment of resistance as Foxy the Red Scourge bit down. He released his grip, and the bastard crumpled to the floor in a heap.

He looked at the other two, who stumbled backwards in surprise. “You’ve messed with the one of us who’s tasted BLOOD!”

He leapt forward, knocking into the left-hand devil and clawing his belly to shreds with one good swipe. The other let go of Chica’s arm and started scrambling backward, grabbing his own pitchfork and brandishing it at the pirate.

The pirate’s eyes gleamed bright in the red light as he laughed.

Chica came to a moment later with a splitting head-ache. She was laid against the Pizza oven, and her mechanical irises widened at the sight before her.

Foxy was surrounded by those fuckin’ weirdos with the horns. A panel on the back of his head had been busted open, and sparking wires splayed out around his head, wreathing his visage in smoke and fire. His eyes were glowing, and his mouth was stained black with some kind of… ink, or something.

“Ah lads! Come to dance with the captain eh?” He laughed as he stepped forward fearlessly. “Well then… I surmise you scallywags have a love for the devil eh?”

As they moved in around him, he laughed again, his razor sharp grin widening. “Then come on lads!” He brandished his hook, it’s point gleaming. “COME! COME AND SHAKE THE DEVIL’S HAND! AAAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAH!”

He reared back his arm, and sent his hook sailing straight for the throat of the closest devil.

+++++++++++

Mike had made it back to the backstage, and ohhhhh fuck was he really not prepared to deal with this. The horned guys were everywhere. Smashing consoles, tazing people, draggins said people off to the center of the convention hall. He was currently hiding behind a big standee of Goldy, cheerfully offering a giant pizza to the viewer.

Thankfully, as threatening as these satanists were, they seemed to be fairly slow on the uptake, and Mike was able to slowly sneak by with the standee as a cover, freezing in place when any looked in his direction. He just needed to creep close enough to the stage to get to Bonnie, drag her out if he needed to, and then… figure something else out.

He was nearly close enough to make his move to the stage. He peered out slowly from behind the standee. Nobody took notice of him. Alright… Good. He ducked back quickly, and slowly started sliding it. He felt it snag slightly, and turned back to look if there was something.

There was one of the demons stand right behind him, holding on to the cardboard stand.

Mike held his wrench to his chest and grinned fearfully. “Uh. Hi.”

The demon knocked the cardboard sign away and began to advance on him. Mike stumbled back, his reserve of bravado quickly souring, and feeling a lot like the old fear. -The- Fear.

“L-look, we can just, talk this over right?”

The demon just looked at him, shook his pitchfork and shouted “HELL!” in a screechy voice.
“Is that all you can say?”

“HELL! HELL!” Repeated the demon.

It rose it’s fork to strike at him, and everything went cloudy in Mike’s brain. The old reflexes, those lightning quick responses build up in his arms acted on their own. He screamed and swung his wrench as hard as he could. It collided with the thing’s skull with a resounding crack.

Mike opened his eyes and looked down, feeling a lump in the pit of his stomach. He’d never had to resort to that level of violence. Even if this thing was literally from hell, Mike had never killed anyone before. Wait, it wasn’t dead. Oh, oh god it was twitching!

“There’s no need to be so shaken up over that.” Said a voice from right behind Mike.

He screamed like a little girl and whirled around, brandishing his wrench and nearly dropping it. He did a double-take. “FAULTEN?!”

She stood without a hint of being shaken by the events around them, casually carrying a silver case over her shoulder via a long strap. “Mister Schmidt.”

Mike breathed heavily, trying to force his heart from beating its way out of his ribcage. “What the… what the fucking FUCK is going ON?!”

“I promise everything will be explained, but we don’t have time. Listen quickly, you need to- Hold on.” She paused and look past Mike.

He turned back and saw the demon he brained standing back up, wound dripping purple-black bile.

It charged forward, and before Mike could even raise his wrench, Faulten was between them. She grasped it’s weapon hand, squeezed its wrist tight, spun him round and forced his arm to his back, the joints popping in agony as she did. “These things are very persistent Schmidt, there’s no point in treating them with kid gloves.” She spoke in the instructive, detached way like someone would use when telling them how to work the copier. With balletic grace, she hoisted the demon over her back and suplexed him into the ground. As he lay sprawled on the floor, she slowly began to walk on top of him, her heels pressing into his body sharply. “Now stay down.” She said to the squirming demon, professional voice picking up a tinge of lasciviousness. She rose her heel and brought it down onto his face, the heel PIERCING into its skull.

Mike paled at the cold-blooded (and sexy as hell) act, and Faulten looked at him like he was freaking out over a tiny papercut. “I told you, no need to worry about killing them. Look.” Instead of blood, smoke was pouring out of the wound around her stiletto, and his body was gradually deflating.
“Nothing more than concentrated negative energy.” She said matter-of-factly. “Now, like I said, I need you to-”

“Hold the fuck up.” You says, life returning to your veins. “How. The Fuck. Do you know what they are? Did you know this would happen?! What in the fucking hell -is- happening?!”

“Mister Schmidt-”

“No. Nono-no-no-NOOOOO. Nope. I watch as HELL. LITERAL HELL, opens the up in front of my eyes, and here YOU prance in, cool as a goddamn cucumber, and start acting like this is all according to plan! So how about you tell me EVERYTHING before I do anything you tell me t-”

“AAAIIIIEEEEEEE!”

Mike knew that shriek anywhere. “BONNIE!”

Completely ignoring Faulten, he scanned the stage in the direction of the cry. She was cowering behind a hastily made wall of stage-backdrop material. With her was her sister bot, Blonnie, and…

“Faulten,” Said Mike. “Those are kids.”

Bonnie was keeping five or six clearly human children behind her, shielding them from the attackers. Thankfully, there were enough robots fighting around the stage to keep the heat off of them, but it wouldn’t last long.


Faulten saw too, and he saw a crack of panic in her facade. “Why. The FUCK. ARE THERE KIDS HERE.”

“They shouldn’t be here. There was a proposed Meet The Performers promotional stunt, but I DIRECTLY told them that this should be a press only event.” Her voice quivered slightly, which proportionally for her, was a sign she was absolutely terrified.

“Why’s that then? Because you KNEW something was going to happen?!” Mike’s train of thought was teetering. He was desperate for a way to help Bonnie, but he needed to figure out what the hell was going on. “What the hell did you bring us into Faulten?”

“MISTER SCHMIDT!” Shouted a muffled voice. Shit, Mike knew that voice, It couldn’t be…

“You’re upset, and have every right to be! But there are more pressing matters than the how or why, aren’t there?” The voice was coming from the silver case.

On cue, Faulten took the case and opened it, and Mike noticed she was trying very hard to keep her vision on the middle distance. In the case was some item covered by packing foam, and in the lid, a screen. And on that screen was Mister Kougami, head of the Kougami Foundation, owner of Fazbear Entertainment. Mike hadn’t seen him since he’d originally taken this damn job.

“I have been observing you, Mister Schmidt-sama! You show greater promise than we could IMAGINE!” He was baking. Again. In the middle of all of this, this crazy-ass CEO was baking a god-damned CAKE.

“What are you talking about.” Said Mike, evenly, not raising his voice. His confusion and anger were manifesting into that eerie calm before the storm of absolute rage.

“You desire answers Mister Schmidt! But we BOTH know you desire something with much more inTENsity!” He shook his whisk, buttercream frosting scattering through the air. “You desire above all else to be able to protect our Bonnie from danger!”

“Fuck you.”

“Such PASSION! Haha, don’t worry Schmidt. I promise, I have the thing to satisfy your desires! You’ve proven to me already. I’ve been observing you! I saw you run back the second you realized she was in danger! SUBARASHII!”

“What the hell do you have that can help stop this, and WHY AREN’T YOU USING IT THEN.”

“Because it needs the right user! One with the right DESIRES! You have the desire to LIVE, and the desire to PROTECT! Miss Faulten?”

On his signal, she uncovered the item in the case. A sort of, card holder thing, and a rectangular metal device affixed to a belt of some dark leathery material.

“That’s a belt,” Said Mike. “That’s a fucking belt! What the hell’s a BELT going to do?!”

“You will see Schmidt.” He said, grinning. Not even some sinister thing, just a big optimistic smile. That creeped Mike out more than an evil one would.

“What makes you think I’m going to trust you and whatever the hell this thing is?” Responded Mike.

“Because it’s your only option to save her, to save everyone! You’re the only one here who can use it! But as I always encourage my employees to do, follow your own desires.” He said, still smiling. “Answers will come later, no matter your choice, but if you don’t take up the belt, then you won’t be able to save her. What is it you desire most, Mister Schmidt?”

Mike stared at the thing. He focused his hearing on the chaos unfolding around him. He looked over at Bonnie’s fortification. It was starting to shake.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” He said, taking the belt. “And after this, you tell me -everything-.”

“Of course Mister Schmidt! Good Luck!”  Damn crazy japanese bastard.

Mike clicked the belt around his waist, and stood there awkwardly. “Alright, what the fuck is thing supposed to do?!” The thing was suspiciously similar to those things you’d see on people working in arcades. On the side where those token dispenser things and everything. He had a paranoid thought that this was all some elaborate prank to get him to make an ass of himself in front of his bosses. Suddenly, a synthesized voice started playing from the belt.

“INSERT IDENTIFICATION.”

“Your ID. Put it in the badge holder.” Said Faulten, helpfully.

Mike inspected the smaller device. “This thing?” He fumbled with his ID tag, cursing as he tried to get it out of its plastic sleeve, and slotted it in. “Ok, now what?”

“Insert it into the belt, the slot at the top.”

“Alright, here goes nothing…” He turned to face the stage, staring down the hordes from hell. He shut his eyes, grit his teeth and shoved the badge holder into the belt buckle.

He waited, then opened his eyes. “Are you fucking kidd-”

“BADGE ACCEPTED! HEN. SHIN.”

The device got hot, and started glowing. Mike only had a second to react before he was engulfed in a bright glow.

When vision returned to him, he stared out at the world through a pair of huge lenses. He looked down, seeing his body covered in some crazy set of armor. He patted over himself in disbelief. There was a huge chestplate in the shape of an officer’s badge on his front. “What the hell is this thing?!”  He brought his hands to hid head and felt around the bug eyed helmet. There was some sort of crest or cap or something on his forehead.

Back over on the screen, Kougami smiled, bringing another cake out of the oven, this one in the same Badge Shape as on Mike’s armor. His smile brightened, and he brought the cake front and center on the camera feed. “Happy Birthday!"

"KAMEN RIDER GUARD!”

++++

To Be Continued.