Patience: Chapter 2. The First Shift

Looking at the congregation of Mike Schmidts with a hazy, uncertain smile, the thought dawned on him that this was the first time he'd actually wished for an intact mirror. He wanted to see himself in all his refurbished glory, a trick that was a damn sight harder with a fractured mirror. Still, The green polo fit him surprisingly well, he didn't need a mirror to tell him that. It just, felt right on him, with none of it's surface feeling too snug nor loose. It even had a gold emblem of the company's logo and slogan adorning it's back, with a bold lettered 'SECURITY' printed just above that. After he secured the badge-esq nametag to the front, he felt assured that no one was going to mistake him for a vagrant anymore. It was a good feeling. Like the shattered bits of his self respect had began to trickle back in.

In any case, his shift was coming around soon. Between the anticipation and stomach cramps from his overwhelmingly greasy-(it's a good thing)-pizza, he hadn't managed to get much sleep last night. His baggy eyes were a bit red from fatigue, but he felt more alive today than he had in months. His one regret was that he still couldn't shave. His facial hair never grew in fully, only in splotches that poked outward like a cactus. Embarrassing really, but he could tackle his shortcomings after his first paycheck. For now, there was a walk downtown waiting for him, and his thoughts were best kept out of the clouds. He didn't want to wander through the back alleys at this time of night, and he was rather determined to cut his commute down from an hour. He grabbed his hat on the way out and left without bothering to lock the door.

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By the time he wormed his way through the shadowed streets of downtown, Mike had managed to arrive to work on time. By the skin of his teeth, but on time none the less. Sal had apparently been waiting on him, as he was leaning against the doors with a withered dogend handing out of his mouth, and his fists jammed into the pockets of his ratty brown jacket. Spotting his quarry, Sal pinched the end of his smoldering cigarette nub and slid it behind his ear.

"Thought you mighta gotten lost. Almost went and sent th' hounds after ya."

Mike managed a weak smile, as he scratched at the burning feeling on the back of his neck.

"W-well I-uh. Had a problem an-and I didn't know how or if-"

"Joke son. Just a joke. Don't have a breakdown on me now."

Mike didn't get a chance to respond before the stout greaseball pushed a set of keys into his hands and began walking away.

"Lock the door behind ya. I set a prerecorded message ta play fer ya as soon as yer shift starts. should cover the basics. Good luck, welcome aboard, I'll catch ya in a few hours."

And like a stray dog, Sal disappeared into an alleyway to pursue whatever it is he enjoys. Probably alcohol, going off of the stench that followed him out. Mike faltered for a moment out of sheer bewilderment at the trust the company had in him. Giving him total access to the store and it's keys on his first day on the job, 100% unsupervised. Still, with a firm squeeze of the key ring, he regained his composure and stepped inside the pizzeria. Locking the door behind him.

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Having moseyed through the dim halls, Mike managed to stumble his way into the security office by following the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. When he got in, however, he couldn't seem to find the receiver through the pile of junk and monitors. Eventually, the call went through to voicemail with no real way to stop it.

"Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night."

Furrowing his brow at this, Mike realized this was the prerecorded message Sal had told him about. Why didn't they cut out the part where the phone rang? It felt lazy, and Mike knew lazy. Still, he had to pay attention, this was as close to orientation as he was going to get.

"Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay?"

Right. Mike felt ready to get this sorted and under his...under where his belt would be if he had a belt.

"Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced.'"

"What."

Mike was physically taken aback by this 'orientation'. Cleaned, bleached, and new rugs? He didn't know what the fuck prompted that, it's a children's diner for Christ's sake. How many serial killers stopped in for a fucking bite at 4 in the morning?

"Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know,"

No shit it sounds bad, Mike felt like he was being set up for a slasher flick on the company's payroll!

"-but there's really nothing to worry about."

Somehow, Mike found that hard to believe after the depths the first disclaimer reached.

"Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay."

Don't mess with company property, Mike thought. That sounded easy enough.

"So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit."

Oh no.

"Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"

Mike's brain was blank at this point. It was amazing that they left this sort of shit in the new hires' training tapes, was this some kind of weird hazing thing to spook the new guy? Because it was working to wonderful effect right now.

"Uh, now concerning your safety, the only real risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh."

...That wasn't funny. None of this was funny. Mike was a man with a fairly thick skin, but all of this was unnerving him to no end. Did he really have to go into such detail? Mike's smile was long fucking gone, and it didn't look like it was coming back any time soon.

"Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."

Mike could barely squeak out an 'okay' as the tape ended, not that anyone would be around to hear it. He immediately began flipping through the monitors as instructed, finding three robot performers atop the stage. Mike hand't given the things a proper look when he first came here, what with Sal dragging dragging him around like a broom. But, now that he'd really poured over the things...he really wish he hadn't. The word 'creepy' could take a few notes from these things. They didn't look anything like the cute mascot heads he'd seen on the company logo. It didn't matter, if he had to babysit some walking robots, he could do it sparingly. He flipped off the monitor and rested his shoulders on his knees, letting them bounce along with his nervous knee.

Folding his hands and resting them on his lap, Mike sat up and wondered idly if the pizza was honestly good enough to bring kids to a place like this. He couldn't help but think of the 'bite of 87', and the poor bastard without a frontal lobe. How could they let something like that happen? Shouldn't there be a 'No touching' policy? Or at least a 'don't jam your head into a robot's mouth' policy? Shaking his head, he decided on checking the cameras at five minute intervals.

And you know what? Everything was ship-shape as far as he could tell. In fact, he began to think the whole 'wandering animatronics' spiel to be a prank to keep guards from slackin' or snoozin' off. That was of course until 2 AM rolled around. Make had gotten slack in checking the cameras after the recording's threats began to feel baseless. It wasn't until a few minutes after the clock turned to 2, that the monitor's began to flicker. And then, static. Mike took his heels off of the desk and sat upright again, banging the top of the monitors to get the picture back. He flicked through the feeds and found the stage. A bear, and a chicken.

The rabbit was missing.

A line of sweat began it's assault on Mike as he flipped through the monitors. Backstage? No. Dining Area? No. Supply closet or Restrooms? Still no. Fearing the worst, he checked the east and west hall corners, which also held nothing. Swallowing hard, he couldn't hear anything. He hadn't been listening for anything before, but surely there'd be some kind of mechanical whirring right? Well, just to be safe, he decided to check the lights.

Guess who?

Mike fell out of his chair screaming as the purple form began reaching in. Hitting the door with a fist fueled in equal measures of fear and adrenaline, the Mag-lock door slammed shut with a terrible, metallic screech being sealed behind it.

"GAH! AHHHHHHH! WHY?!  WHATTHEFUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUUUUUCK?!"

On the bright side, Mike knew with absolute certainty that the recording wasn't a prank. So that was a small load off of his mind. It kind of paled in comparison to the whole 'robots want to murder you in a horrifically gruesome way', but you couldn't say there wasn't a silver lining. And say what you want about Mike Schmidt, but he sure did have a knack for finding silver linings in shit situations.

Recollecting himself, Mike dashed over to the cameras and began flipping through them. Bear and chicken still on stage, which was nice. It took a few channels, but he finally found the bunny hiding backstage, cradling it's arm. It almost looked like it was sulking...or searching for something. Mike closed his eyes and did his best to gather up the remnants of his shattered composure. He pulled himself up and opened the door. Clicking the light to make sure he was in the clear, he moved back to the monitors to see if the dammed thing moved.

It did.

Not to a different room, just closer. It was staring straight into the camera now. Mike felt as though it was watching HIM through the monitor now, as though they were taking turns. A playful, murderous, game of cat and door. Mike felt paralyzed, staring into those lifeless eyes. And then the static came back, and the rabbit was gone. Mike sprang for the lights. Left: Clear. Right: Clear. Where did she go? He flipped through the channels with conviction and found the familiar purple face in the dining area. Mike spat a mumbled cuss word under his breath as he tried to calm down. Flicking through the channels, Mike realized he had a bigger problem than the bunny who, yep, was still in the dining area.

The stage only had one band member on it now. A bear.

"Where, the hell did you go. You yellow sack of-"

Oh. She was in the east hallway. A just a few feet away. Stellar. Mike spared a quick glance around to find the rabbit dicking around in the supply closet and Bear on stage. Switching back, the chicken had moved closer; the east hall corner now. It wasn't ten seconds after he had switched back to her that the static came back. Right-side door was one of the easiest decisions Mike had made in his entire life. He turned the light on to see that slack-jawed bird standing outside the window. He clicked off the light and checked the monitors to find Bonnie had came around for a second go at it. Western Hallway.

Turning back to the east, he clicked the light back on to find the robot chicken still staring at him.

"PISS OFF ALREADY!"

But it didn't. The bird seemed to have more determination in her venture than the bunny did. She took her time getting over here, and she was taking her time to leave as well. Speaking of which, Mike decided to close the western door as well. Checking the light rewarded his intuition with the silhouette of  rabbit ears. He was now trapped between a purple and yellow death. It couldn't possibly get-

*BWEOOOOOooooooooo*

He didn't say it. He might've thought it, but he didn't say it. It wasn't fair, things were only supposed to get worse if you said something, not think something. But here he sat, in the dimly lit office with both doors wide open, and no power to speak of. He felt his heart racing. Which side would they go through? They were fast, he didn't know if he could outrun them. Even if he made a break for the door, how far could he get really? Out of shape was a very generous term for his condition, and these things didn't tire. Or feel like their stomach was fit to burst from anxiety.

And then he saw the eyes. He heard the tune first, of course, but the eyes are what held him in place. Good god, he was going to die here... to the Freddy Fazbear band of all things. The music cut, and the eyes were gone. The emergency light behind you had been holding on by a flicker, but he'd give anything for it back now. It was to dark to see anything, but he could feel the tears rolling down his face. He tried not to move, not to make a sound in a vain plea to the encroaching darkness.

But there was nothing now. No thoughts in his head, no sound in the void surrounding him aside from his heartbeat.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UvimAzSkZY