Patience: Chapter 6. Heartache

There was a child in the restaurant. A little girl in a floral sundress was sitting on the backstage table, just kicking her feet and looking around. She was a tiny thing, probably nine or ten... She must've been hiding when closing time came around...What sort of neglectful parent could leave their daughter behind in a place like this? This 'magical place for kids and grown-ups alike' disappeared after midnight, and more troubling things than 'fantasy and fun' came to life.

Mike was sweating now, and for once it wasn't for his own sake. He'd prepared a little in case something bad were to happen to HIM on this shift, but he'd never considered someone else being stuck inside this hell! He had to check the monitors. Bonnie was in the hallway corner. Mike closed the left door instinctively, and pushed on. Cove had opened a touch. Manageable. Freddy...Freddy....Kitchen. The camera was out, but his damned jingle gave him away. Chica was probably in there too, but he couldn't hear her over Freddy's music box. Checking the hall light, clear. He opened the door. Had to conserve power. Still had to get through the night. But that girl... Jesus Christ what could he do? He couldn't just ignore her and hope these THINGS don't notice her, right?

Switching back to the backstage monitor, Mike felt a wave of anxiety hit him. The girl was still sitting there, rocking back and forth without a care in the world. But the endoskeleton beside her had moved. It was sitting up now, looking over at her. Mike felt as though his stomach was trying to tear itself out of his body, and his burning lungs didn't feel much better. He must've been having a panic attack, but he wasn't worried about himself right now. He needed a plan, an idea, anything!

Time was essential here, but anyway he cut it, he'd have to run past at least two of the robots just to reach the kid, and then go past them again to get back to the office. He'd seen how fast that fox could run, and the others barely made noise when moving from room to room in a blink of an eye. It was suicide. Mike put his hands on his head and began tugging at his hair, he was racking his brain, but he couldn't see a solution for this one. Not one that didn't end messily, and VERY painfully.

Had to check the cameras.

Fred, and Chica hadn't moved. Bonnie was back in her closet. Foxy was standing out of the curtain, wasn't long until he came running. Back to the girl now, the endoskeleton had an arm raised toward her. Though she was oblivious, the thing must've been playing by the same rules as the others. It wouldn't move if it was being watched. He couldn't switch off of her now, the thing was too close. He had to do something. Something right now. He needed...He needed a distraction. Time was running out...

Mike spun his chair around and began pulling his shirt off. Draping the bloodstained shirt over the back of the chair, and putting his hat atop it, he hoped the things would smell that and think he was still there. Could these things even smell? Fuck it, better safe than sorry. Mike grabbed his flashlight and thought if he was missing anything. Anything that could give him an edge.

The cupcake! The music player! Maybe he could mask his steps with the thing, or at the very least distract the things from the girl if he...he wasn't going to fail. Wasn't even going to entertain the idea of failure. He might've been a sad sack of shit walking in here, and yeah, maybe he was a bit of a coward. But goddammit he wasn't going to let those things butcher a little fucking girl. Mike took a moment to appreciate what it took to draw out his meager heroic side. But only a moment, there was work to do.

Picking up the cupcake and placing it on the chair, Mike hit play and moved to the left corridor.

"This song is for the best daddy in the world! Come home soon dad, we miss you!"

Well the speakers on the thing worked pretty well. The child's voice was coming through crystal clear. What followed it was...different. After a little shuffling and feedback, a fuzzy voice began to play through it. Whoever had recorded this was obviously holding the recorder up to a radio as the song played.

"𝒞𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓊𝓅 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉; 𝐿𝑜𝓊𝒾𝓈 𝒜𝓇𝓂𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 '𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒'."

Mike couldn't afford to sit back and enjoy the music, the sound of metallic feet began echoing down the halls...Foxy was coming. If he was going to make a play, now was the time. Flashlight in hand, his only backup plan, Mike began barreling down the right hallway.

Mike's footfalls clattered in the background as the song echoed down the halls behind him as he flew down the hall. There was an electronic scream, short but distinct. Foxy must've reached the security office. Mike picked up his pace when he reached the dining hall, doing his best not to scream as he heard the music box playing beside him in the kitchen. Pirate's cove was empty, Foxy would be back soon. Bonnie and Chica were no place to be seen. Couldn't stop now, he had to reach the room before that thing...

Nearly crashing into the backstage door, Mike fell inside and threw himself onto the door to close it.

"Hello."

Looking over with desperation in his eyes, Mike was dripping with sweat and nearly hyperventilating.  A happy, carefree smile was beaming back at him. The endoskeleton hadn't moved. Mike pushed himself off the floor and shoulder checked the endoskeleton away from the girl. Despite it's weight, the thing didn't try to resist, and fell to the floor with a dull thud. It was still frozen in it's sitting but reaching out pose. The girl was also staring at Mike with a tilted, confused glare.

"Mister? Are you okay?"

Mike's breathing was ragged and heavy, his words panicked and urgent.

"Got-gotta get...Get out. You! You gotta. We-We-We need to-to get out. Not-NOT safe. Gotta go, c'mon. NOW. We gotta go. COMON COMON, NO TIME."

The girl developed a worried look on her face, but didn't resist as Mike took her hand and led her to the door back to the dining area.

Opening the door a crack, Mike spared a panicked glance around the place. Pirate's cove was closed again, Foxy was back in his home. Okay, he wouldn't be in the office at least. Mike turned to fill the girl in on what they had to do, the endoskeleton had crawled dangerously close, but was once again frozen now that he was being watched.

Mike screamed.

Picking the girl up into his arms, Mike gave the slightly ajar door a boot and began running back to the office. He heard a curtain being ripped apart, but didn't dare look back to see what he already knew was coming up behind him. Left hallway was closer, had to try. The girl had buried her face into Mike's chest, she must've been frightened. That made two of them.

Mike howled in pain as he felt a deep slash on his back, the thought of death lashing at his back pushed him further, faster. And then the supply closet door burst open. Mike ran past and didn't stop, but a harsh banging noise told him that Bonnie had accidentally bought him some time.

Mike rounded the corner and punched the door's button before collapsing and clutching his chest. A loud series of banging on the door made sure that his 'grand plan' was inches away from failure. His back was on fire, but the troubling lack of air in his lungs was what held his attention. Despite his wheezing, Mike forced himself up to check on the monitors. Foxy was back in his cove, no longer concealed by the shredded curtain. Bonnie was still outside the door, wouldn't take her long to leave though. Freddy was still in the Kitchen. It was only then that Mike heard the girl crying behind her.

"IT's okay, it's okay. We-We got , Got you now. You're okay. We're okay. All okay, okay? Just gotta calm down right? Right. Right, right, right. Not hurt right? Did they hurt you?"

Mike said turning around to look the girl over. No blood, good. Bonnie was gone too. He opened the door. Had to conserve power. The girl responded after a time, sniffing and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"No. I'm okay..."

"Good. Good to hear. Jus-Im security, you're safe with me. Just gotta check the monitors, stay put and I'll get you outta here o-okay? What's your name sweetheart?"

Still choking back tears, the girl's voice was quiet and timid.

"Mary...My name's Mary."

"Mary? Hey, alright. Just-Stick with me okay? Sit in the chair, and I'll get you out of here."

Mike spoke as he turned back to the monitors to keep tabs on the robots.

"All p-perfectly safe here. Okay? I'll-Safe here, I'll keep 'em out. Just. Stop crying. Please. You're safe, I promise. Those...THINGS wont hurt you, okay?"

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just..."

"What's the matter sweetheart?"

"Thank you for finding my old tape Mike."

Mike froze like a deer in headlights. He turned around to face the girl.

"How'd you know my na-"

The color left Mike's face in an instant. Mike's eyes grew wide and watched in horror as he watched the birdbot, Chica, holding the player in it's mechanical hands. It was turning it over slowly as the song reached it's end. The cassette clicked, faded to silence, and Chica's familiar white iris' turned onto Mike. The flashlight slipped from Mike's hand and shattered on the ground. The sound snapped Mike out of his terrified daze. He turned to run, but was stopped by a mechanical hand arm holding onto his arm with considerable strength

"MIKE..."

"No, no, no! Please GOD no!"

Mike had began clawing at Chia's hand fruitlessly, his fingernails began breaking and tearing on its metallic surface. The metallic being said nothing else, but brought it's second hand to under Mike and swept him up in a similar fashion he'd used to carry 'Mary'. No matter how he thrashed, how he pleaded, or how he cried, the animatronic wouldn't let him go. It was moving at a walking pace, but it was clear they were returning to the backstage. The duo left a trickling trail of blood in their wake thanks to the huge gash on Mike's back. Reaching the door, the robot spoke again with it's lifeless voice.

"I'M SORRY MIKE...IT'S TIME FOR YOUR SHIFT."

Entering the room, a Freddy Fazbear suit was waiting on the table. Any protests from Mike fell on deaf ears as the bird picked up the mask. The last thing Mike saw was the inside of the mask moving towards him at incredible speed.
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"Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it."

Mike's eyes flew open and took in his surroundings. The office. He looked down at his pristine clothes, his flashlight in it's holster. Like nothing had happened.

"Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow."

The message was interrupted with a loud banging. It persisted throughout the call...

"It's-It's been a bad night here for me. Um, I-I'm kinda glad that I recorded my messages for you-"

The man was incredibly nervous, and took a second to clear his throat.

"-uh, when I did. Uh, hey, do me a favor. Maybe sometime, uh, you could check inside those suits in the back room? I'm gonna try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Uh, I-I-I-I always wondered what was in all those empty heads back there."

The sounds of chimes began playing from the recording. The same jingle Mike knew well.

"You know... oh, no."

The recording ended with a shrill scream and static before clicking off. Mike hadn't moved an inch since he'd 'awoken'. Everything was wrong. He'd lost a day somewhere between the lines, but that wasn't even the worst of it. These 'dreams' had began to afflict him. He didn't want to admit it, but ever since the first time, he'd felt off. And now the feeling was even worse, it felt like a deep-seeded pain. Not a physical pain, but something more...or less? He felt like he'd lost something, he couldn't name it, but he didn't feel fully there anymore. Like a campfire that'd burnt down to embers.

A pained wheezing fluttered in from the door, causing Mike to look up from his hands. How long had he been sitting there? It all felt so far away. And yet, the hand that used to belong to Mike clicked on the light for the left hallway. A model of what he once thought to be "Bonnie' stood there. It's head twitching impossibly fast with a sporadic pattern. Mike didn't react. Instead the hand simply closed the door and turned off the light.

Mike waited quietly as his body seemed to handle his duties well enough, reopening the door after a few moments. A few minutes passed before the sounds returned, and much like a rerun, the situation played out again. Bonnie was agitated tonight. A glance to the right revealed a familiar face. Chica, the chicken. the door closed in it's face, but Mike stood and moved to the window. He stared at the twitching chicken for a time before he spoke.

"Why?"

There was no emotion in his voice, but he could feel the tears on his face. The robot did not respond.

"Why are you doing this?"

The robot maintained it's stoic silence. However, it's agitated fidgeting stopped. It's head froze at an angle before adjusting itself slowly to look through the glass evenly. It looked down at Mike without a sound.

"Why do you hate us so much?"

The robot remained motionless. Mike bashed the window with his fist and roared with emotion as the tears continued to stream down his face.

"I KNOW YOU CAN TALK GODDAMMIT! ANSWER ME! WHY?! YOU OWE ME THAT MUCH YOU BASTARDS!'

Continuing to pound on the glass as he shouted, Mike fell to his knees and wept.

"Why is this happening to me? Why can't anything ever be okay? Why...?"

There was no answer, but Chica had left. Mike was a wreck, barely able to stand anymore. When he finally managed to pull himself to his feet, he opened the left door and shambled out. The pizzeria was quiet. Mike began walking to the exit, keys shakily at hand.

Walking into the dining area, all four of the animatronics were standing by the exit doors, watching him. Mike looked back with apathetic eyes as he stumbled through the rows of tables and chairs. Walking past them, each one turned to continue looking at him, but otherwise didn't move. Mike fumbled with the keys until he found the one for the doors. The latch opened, and he walked through the doors. Nothing tried to stop him.
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The doors closed behind him, and Mike was met not with the shadow streets he'd come to know, but with a tiny office with stacked papers and a creaking ceiling fan. Notes and garbage were piled up in equal measure around the floor. At the center of it all was a withered chestnut-desk with a tiny fat man named 'Sal' sitting behind it. There was nothing his sanity could do to process it aside from accept it and move forward.

"Heya lad. Havea seat."

"I want to go home."

Sal took a shot of whiskey and shook his head before continuing on.

"We all wannae go home lad, but you ain't served your shift."

"I quit."

"Ya can't quit, won't let ya. Trust me."

"What do you mean? What wont let me?"

Mike's voice was hollow, despondent. Sal sighed and put down the whiskey bottle.

"You ain't pieced it together yet? This place. Once it gets it's claws in you, it ain't fonda lettin' go."

"I'm leaving, and I swear to god I will kill you if you get in my way this time."

Mike hefted the flashlight out of his holster, and held it at his waist like a cornered rat. The only response Sal gave was a raised eyebrow and a humph. Sal reached into his desk and pulled out a snub-nosed .32 Revolver. Mike didn't flinch, but swallowed hard.

"If yer gonnae threaten me, you might as well do it right lad."

Twisting the gun in his hand to hold it's grip towards Mike, he motioned for the kid to grab it. Mike took it with a hesitant hand, and held it unprofessionally with both arms extended. The gun was trembling.

"F-Fine! YOU. Are going to get ME. Out of here. Understand?!"

"Better idea lad, less play a game."

That caught Mike off guard, and his face contorted in an incredulous manner.

"What? No I-"

"How long 'ave you been here?"

"What."

"Time lad. Can you tell me? How long have you been here?"

Mike shook his head and waved the gun around

"What the fuck does that matter I-"

"Just try an' answer the question ya blubbering twit."

Mike was a bit taken aback, but took a breath and spoke.

"Tonight'd be the fourth night right?"

"Wrong."

"The third then, I don't know! Everything's fucked around here!"

Sal sat back and folded his hands on his stomach.

"Alright then, how 'bout this? You 'member yer parents right? How about yer home town? Shit, when's yer birthday lad?"

Sal was giggling at this point, but Mike was dumbfounded. He...couldn't remember. he knew he'd seen his mother's face before, but he couldn't remember it. It was on the tip of his mind, but he couldn't think of it.

"How about yer name? Can you tell me yer name?"

With a panic, Mike looked down at his Badge.

"Mike? Mike. Mike uhh...Mike Schimdt."

"There's a good lad. Hold onto yer name tag, that's important."

Mike looked up with a horrified look on his face, Sal rolled his eyes and sat up.

"Okay, okay. Calm down the doe-eyes, i'll help ya a little more. Do you remember what it was like outside today? On yer walk."

"Yeah, yeah! It uhh, it was cold! The leaves were falling, and I was thinking about getting a space heater for winter."

"Right, good. Now, do you remember what it was like the day I called ya fer this joba yers?"

Thinking back, Mike's head began to hurt. One part of him wanted to say something, and another wanted something else. It was like conflicting memories were battling it out. Eventually however, Mike came to the realization and his jaw dropped in horror.

"Heh, yeah. Hot as shit right? See where i'm goin' with this lad?"

"How long have I been here?"

"No idea lad."

"TELL ME."

Pulling the gun up again, Mike walked closer to the desk with the gun in his hand.

"Heh, easy lad. I'm the last lifeline you got."

Mike's hand quivered before he turned around to pace back and forth while clutching his head.

"Time comes and goes lad. I myself've been 'ere for so long, that I started to see the signs."

Mike stopped moving and looked at Sal through teary, panicked eyes.

"Signs?"

"Aye. See, this place likes to keep ya fresh, motivated. Sometimes it likes ta change things upa bit, add a little flavor."

Mike's visible confusion prompted Sal to keep talking.

"Sometimes,when you come back, you'll find somethin' new it added. Prolly somethin' small, like a new paint style, or a little plushie added to yer room. Things you wouldn't really notice."

"Different art on the walls."

Sal smiled and spoke through his teeth.

"mmhmm stuff like that."

Sitting back again, Sal grabbed his whiskey bottle.

"It could be a boon, like an extra bottle of your favorite, maybe a little headstart on the shift."

Sighing again, his voice was a bit more sober as he looked at something far off wistfully.

"Sometimes it's a penalty, like less resources to work wiv or… a uhh an affliction of sorts."

Sal said as he rubbed his purple knuckles.

"S'funny like that. likes to foster yer hopes before crushin' 'em. Sometimes it'll even change the whole place we got here."

A flashback of his first nightmare runs chills down Mike's spine.

"But I did learn somethin' real important. It can't hurt you, if yer already numb."

As if on que, Sal took the whiskey bottle and drained it's entire contents before letting the glass bottle tumble to the floor.

"Shorry kid. Wish I goulda helpt cha, but I fhink...uhh fhink I gone an 'ad enough fer tonight. Jus’ don’t be too mad at da band awright? Dere jus as trapped as you an me. Well, jus as trapped as you anyway. Heh"

Reaching back into his desk, Sal pulled his hand out in the shape of a gun and put it to his head. He made a little shooting gesture at himself and gave Mike a grin.

"But not me. Heh, bang. Heh heh!"

A loud boom resonated through the office. After Mike reopened his eyes, he found Sal slumped on his desk with a large hole in his head and a spray of viscera behind him. Looking down, Mike saw his arm outstretched with a smoking gun quivering in his grip. It, along with Mike, fell to the floor. Mike could hear screaming...it sounded a lot like his own voice. He fell forward as the the world spun around him and faded to black. Before his consciousness entirely fell away, the sound of echoing laughter and music boxes enveloped his mind.