No Items, Foxy Only

Mike's hope died with the horrible sound of the generator powering down.

"Oh fuck," the guard hissed, leaping up from his seat in preparation to bolt and begging his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. Twin beams of light staved off the suffocatingly pitch black atmosphere and a robotic hand clapped down on Mike's shoulder.

"I'll not be havin' such language, Mister Schmidt. These lanterns of mine still have fuel to burn."

Foxy's gaze shifted to the right then left door, nearly drawing a scream from Mike with each plunge into blackness. Nothing was revealed on the right, clanging from the kitchen announced Chica was still on her way, but Bonnie glared at them from the left. Foxy jabbed his hook out in challenge as the rabbit's hand curled around the door frame, "Take another step and ye won't be hopping away to Freddy like last time."

The buttons for controlling the hall light and door cracked under Bonnie's anger.

"We're dead, Foxy," Mike whispered, "There's no way you can take on all three of them."

Blinded by the fox's attention, Mike felt cold metal legs pressed into his sweaty hands.

"Stow that kind o' talk sailor, we fight to the last," growled the pirate.

Bonnie took the forbidden step.

Mike nearly lost his grip on the chair as Foxy shoved him to the side, lunging forward to tackle Bonnie out of the already cramped office. Scrambling for his flashlight, Mike caught flashes of purple felt flying among the sounds of metal slamming into metal.

A rattling wheeze sounded at Mike's back.

Dropping the flashlight, Mike pivoted while swinging the folded office chair full force. Chica rocked from the blow, stumbling back into the hall.

"Get to the lifeboats, matey!" came Foxy's garbled voice from behind.

 With another swing of metal at the bird, Mike tossed the cumbersome weapon aside and sprinted down the right side hallway.

Thudding footsteps followed and the noises from the fox and rabbit's fight stopped, giving no clear indicator of the victor.

The kitchen; No use hiding. A knife taken for less than noble reasons, but Mike refused to be alive if he was going to be suited.

Bursting into the main party room, Mike's winded breathing caught in his throat under Freddy's crushingly intense gaze from where he still stood on the stage. Punishing his hesitation on where to go next, Chica's grip clamped around his torso hard enough that any hopes of suicide were dashed as the knife was yanked from his fingers.

"I got him Freddy!" the bird crowed, hauling Mike across the party room, kicking and screaming, to the bear waiting center stage.

Freddy's eyes looked past the struggling guard with no change in expression or warning as Foxy, now missing his good arm and lower jaw, charged into the pair. Mike saw stars as he met the unforgiving floor and his left arm exploded into agony as Chica landed on it. The last remaining member of the Fazbear trio watched on impassively as Foxy stomped the chicken's head into a lump of metal and circuits.

"Ye still ship shape, lad?"

Bone jutted from Mike's arm and rivulets of blood trickled from his fingertips. Thank god he was still in shock.

"Aye, captain."

Foxy's oil-splattered hook carelessly patted his good shoulder and Mike's vision blurred at the sensation of grating bones.

"That's the spirit."

Freddy's booming laugh rang out from the stage. "Quite the performance gentlemen," Freddy declared."I can see the strength of the bond your little mutiny has forged these past few nights."

Glancing to the front doors promising freedom, Mike cried out from the hook slicing into his right arm. Foxy's attack saved him from the bear's impossible to track hand seeking the unaware guard's throat. Standing between the two allies, Freddy seemed to loom over Foxy despite the lack of notable difference in height. Addressing his fellow performer, Freddy's voice was deadly, "I think you're well aware of the punishment for your transgression."

Foxy bristled at the threat and directed his words to the fallen guard, "He can't leave the pizzeria, Mister Schmidt. It's against the pizzeria's rules. Don't lose the wind in-"

The metaphor was cut off as Foxy's  chest crumpled inwards from the unseen blow, impaling the vulpine on the bear's arm. Weakly scrabbling at his killer, Foxy's eyes went dark to the sight of Mike staggering through the doors.

Cold air did nothing to halt the sweat pouring from Mike's body as he desperately limped towards his car. The bright light from collapsing against the driver side door was met with half shriek of pain half hysterical laughter. Stars, real ones, were splashed across the cloudy night sky. They would light the way for the voyage home through these treacherous frozen waters. All that remained to be done was getting his sea legs to stand on the pitching and rolling vessel. He could almost hear Foxy's chortling above the crashing waves as the fox lent a helping hand off the slippery deck.

Mike's body registered that he was no longer with his face pressed into dirty snow and eyes he didn't recall closing fluttered open.

Numb from pain, cold, horror and disbelief, his feet dangled off the pavement in Freddy's grasp.

"How?"

The laugh echoed into the night air.

"I am the pizzeria, Michael."