Last Call

	Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
	I don't remember all the details. I was recording my last message for the new night guard, trying to tell him about the heads in the back room, I heard Freddy's music start up from somewhere in the room, and everything went black. Then I woke up to find myself sitting up against a wall in a dark room, body aching, unable to move. From what I could tell, my shirt was unbuttoned and the right sleeve was torn open. My legs hurt the most, and I could feel blood trickling down my knees. Did the animatronics do this to me? From what I can recall, I had both of the doors to the security office closed, how did they get in?
	A door opened to my left, and a single fluorescent light on the ceiling flickered on. I was in the backstage room of the pizzeria. Assorted animatronic parts littered the floor and the table in the middle. I never liked having to look at this room through the cameras, I was always unsettled by the way the dust-covered masks on the wall seemed to stare at me with empty sockets. It was even worse in person.
	After the light was on, in came the sound of moving metal parts and heavy footsteps. Immediately the source of the noise came right up to me. It was none other than Foxy the Pirate, my old favorite. Back when I was a tyke, I was always happy to see him. Not so much now that he loomed above me.
	“Aye, matey, ye can't be walking around without yer suit,” sounded his classic pirate voice from his scratchy old speakers. He turned to the table in the middle of the room and swept all of the spare parts on its surface away, knocking them to the floor. “Let's get that there fixed!”
	My eyes widened. Oh, please no, I wanted to say, but my vocal cords were frozen. I was expecting this from the moment I saw where I was, but that didn't change the feeling of dread flooding into my chest. I tried my hardest to get up and run, but the best I could manage was making a couple fingers twitch on my left hand. I started to hyperventilate.
	The pirate fox turned back to me. “Let's get you up and ready.” He extended his right arm toward my face, placing his hook in my mouth. “Onto the table now.”
	Foxy poked around at my teeth for a few moments, tapping here and there, until the tip of his hook rested behind my upper front teeth. An incredibly sharp pain struck me as he began to pull my whole body by the jaw, the hook burying itself in my gums and displacing my teeth. A stream of blood flowed into my mouth and down my throat. It made me feel sick. I squinted to try to clear out the hot tears in my eyes as the nerves in my mouth screamed in agony. Every second I was being moved toward the table my teeth were being pushed farther from their normal position. My whole jaw felt like it was on fire, I couldn't take it. At last, he lowered me onto the table, and, needing to let me go, violently tore his hook hand out of my mouth, taking a couple teeth and a large chunk of gum with it, and causing the stream of blood in my mouth to turn into a flood. I tried to scream, but the opening of my air passage only invited the blood to begin choking me. I coughed and coughed, praying I would drown in my own blood and not have to experience what I knew was coming, but I felt a hand push at my back and roll me over onto my stomach.
	“You okay there, friend?” The fox inquired. He patted me on the back a few times.
	I couldn't see much through my tear-obscured vision, but I could make out the silhouette of Foxy moving into my line of sight, clearly carrying something in his hand. It was some large, lightly-colored object. I couldn't see too well.
	“Now, stay still.”
	Foxy placed the object over my outstretched arm and began to put all his weight onto it. It felt like a series of bolts being forcibly pushed into my flesh, blunt metal pressing against me until it broke the skin and began making its way through my muscles. The pain shot through me like a shockwave resonating across my entire body. The pressure increased more and more, and with it the pain, until finally, a loud snap resounded through the room. Finally I was able to scream, ejecting some of the blood from my windpipe and launching me into a coughing fit.
	“Oh, God!” I sputtered between coughs. “Please, please God, kill me!”
	I opened my eyes in the midst of my seizing and I caught a glimpse of what Foxy had done to me: my arm had been stuffed into a golden-colored animatronic suit piece, with bloodied, mangled flesh and bone fragments oozing out of the seams. Shock hit me like a wave upon seeing it. My vision started to go black. At last, I hoped, it was all over.
	I awoke in pitch blackness. All of the pain from before was gone – in fact, I noticed after a few seconds that I was standing up without a problem. I patted myself down and, much to my own disbelief, I was completely fine. A relieved laugh escaped my mouth. Despite not having any idea where I was, what was happening, or if I was even still alive, I was so happy. That was, until I felt a tap on my shoulder.
	I turned around and suddenly I was back in the backstage room, except where there would have otherwise been a table there was an empty Golden Freddy suit standing upright on its own, looking me directly in the eyes with its deep, empty sockets. My blood ran cold and my eyes widened. I took a step back, but something clamped down hard on my ankle, eliciting a yelp of pain. I looked down to find that a disembodied Bonnie head had sunk its teeth into my leg; felt like it had me by the bone. Before I could even try to move, the same thing happened to my other ankle, this time a Chica head. I looked up at the Golden Freddy suit in front of me.
	In its hand was a Foxy head, which looked to be staring at me just as intently as the bear was. Without averting its gaze, Golden Freddy clasped its hands around the head's jaw and slowly pried it open as wide as possible, straining its hinges, before turning the mouth of the headpiece toward the ground. A large, round, reddish-brown object began to slowly emerge from the mouth. A couple of scraps of wet crimson tissue fell from it and splashed onto the floor, releasing a foul stench of rot that filled my nostrils and made me gag. I attempted to avert my gaze, but as soon as I turned my neck, I felt a pair of hands press against the sides of my head and turn it so I was made to look. I closed my eyes, and two fingers on each side pulled my eyelids open. I had no choice but to witness as I got a clear view of what was coming out of the headpiece: a small human skull, speckled with strips of half-rotted flesh, coated in a thick translucent slime. The pink, fleshy remains of an eyeball fell out of the left socket while I watched in disgust, as did a few loose, broken teeth which barely clung to the jaw. Finally, when the upper jaw had fully passed, the skull dropped onto the ground, cracking open on impact and spilling a viscous and chunky dark fluid on the floor. I gagged at the sight and smell of it. My stomach was churning, I couldn't bear to look at the rancid thing any longer. I was squirming and fidgeting, trying to get away.
	“Stop it!” I pleaded as I struggled to turn my head against the hands holding me. “Stop it, please!”
	I forced my eyelids shut in spite of the fingers holding them apart and I screamed at the top of my lungs. Something started to press against my chin and temples, putting an unrelenting pressure on my head. I shook and seized in a vain attempt to extricate myself, but the pressure just grew and grew, it was too much, it was crushing me, it was, it was-
	I heard a loud crunch, and all went silent.
	The next day, I was on my feet and ready to go from the moment I woke up. I strolled through the halls, opened the doors to the party room, and basked in the beauty of the morning light as it streamed through the windows and warmed my face. I walked up onto the stage, took my position, and waved a friendly hello to the kids in the crowd. I thought they would be excited, but as soon as they saw me, they started to scream. They scrambled for the exits, crying and calling for their parents.
	“Kids?” I called out. My speakers were slightly garbled by some liquid that had gotten on them. “Kids, what's wrong? You don't have anything to be scared of! It's me!”