Mary.
----------------------------------------
Mary’s hands were still shaking.
The adrenaline hadn’t faded, her body still wired with leftover panic from almost dying.
Carl, standing beside her, wasn’t much better.
They had barely caught their breath before the dayshift employees dragged them into the manager’s office.
And now, sitting across from them, arms crossed, unimpressed, was Roger Harrington—Manager of Candy’s Burgers & Fries.
Roger was the kind of guy who never looked surprised by anything—but right now, even he looked mildly annoyed.
“Alright,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Let me get this straight. You two are trying to tell me that every animatronic in the building—ones that have never done this before—just decided to attack you at once?”
Carl exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Roger blinked. “And then The Rat—”
“The fucking Rat, Roger!” Mary snapped. “The one you keep in storage like a museum piece for some fucking reason that thing moved.”
Roger pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mary.”
“No, I’m serious! We saw it!”
Roger sighed. “You saw something, sure.”
Carl stiffened. “You don’t believe us.”
“I didn’t say that,” Roger said smoothly. “But—come on. You’re telling me an animatronic that’s older than I am suddenly started working? And—what—chased you out of the building AFTER 6 AM?!”
Carl’s eye twitched. “YES.”
Roger sighed again, turning to the door. “Let’s go ahead and check the footage, then.”
Mary folded her arms. “Fine.”
The dayshift guard and two other employees had just finished their walkthrough of the restaurant.
They looked confused.
“Everything looks fine, boss,” the guard said, scratching the back of his neck. “No sign of damage, no animatronics out of place.”
Roger turned to Mary and Carl, raising an eyebrow.
Carl looked like he wanted to throw something.
Mary clenched her jaw. “You checked the backroom, right?”
The other employee nodded. “Yeah. The Rat’s still there. Didn’t move an inch.”
Carl made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a breakdown.
Mary stared at the employees. “You’re telling me that after everything that happened—everything we saw—The Rat is just perfectly fine?”
“Yup,” the guard said. “Just standing there, looking creepy as hell, same as always.”
Carl turned to Mary, expression flat with exhaustion.
“So. We’re insane.”
Mary didn’t respond.
Because she was starting to feel insane.
Roger sighed, rubbing his temples like this was a mild inconvenience instead of a complete nightmare.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t know what you two saw last night. I really don’t.”
Mary opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.
“But let’s say, for a second, that I do believe you.” He leaned forward, expression hardening. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say the animatronics did attack you. Let’s say The Rat did move. What do you want me to do about it?”
Mary blinked. “What?”
Roger spread his hands. “Because I’ll tell you right now—we are not shutting this place down.”
Carl’s face twitched. “You’re kidding.”
Roger shook his head. “No. I’m not.”
Mary’s hands curled into fists. “Roger—this isn’t just some technical malfunction or sabotage. This was something else.”
Roger exhaled through his nose. “Look. Even if I wanted to report this, I can’t. Candy’s can’t afford another scandal right now.”
Mary stared at him. “So—what—you’re just gonna pretend it didn’t happen?!”
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do,” Roger said coolly.
Carl’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood up. “You’re insane.”
“No,” Roger said, leveling them with a tired but firm expression. “I’m practical.”
Mary stood up too fast, blood rushing to her head. “So that’s it? That’s your solution? Just let us get torn apart next shift?”
Roger sighed. “No one got torn apart.”
Mary felt something snap inside her.
She leaned forward, slamming her hands onto his desk. “Not yet.”
Roger didn’t flinch.
He just shrugged. “Well. Guess you better be careful, then.”
Carl let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable.”
Roger’s face hardened. “Listen to me, both of you.”
He stood, voice dropping to something cold and final.
“I don’t care what you think happened last night,” he said. “But I do care about this restaurant staying open.”
Mary clenched her jaw.
“So,” Roger continued, “you are both going to keep your mouths shut, do your jobs, and forget about whatever you think you saw.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Carl exhaled through his nose. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”
Roger smirked. “And yet, you still work here.”
Carl moved first—grabbing his jacket, storming toward the door.
Mary followed immediately, rage burning in her chest.
Roger called after them.
“See you both next shift.”
Mary didn’t look back.
----------------------------------------
The second they were outside, Carl let out a sharp laugh of disbelief.
“Well,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, “that was fucking pointless.”
Mary didn’t respond.
Because deep down, she had already known how this would end.
The truth?
Nobody cared.
Not about what happened, not about their safety—only about keeping things running.
Carl sighed. “So. What now?”
Mary’s fingers tightened around her jacket.
She exhaled sharply.
“We do our job.”
Carl gave her a long, unreadable look.
Then he nodded.
----------------------------------------
Michael.
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Michael didn’t normally stay after his shift.
But when Ralph left a note on his desk promising extra pay if he boxed up the Toy Animatronic parts, well—
Michael wasn’t stupid.
Money was money.
So here he was, stacking severed animatronic limbs into cardboard boxes, trying not to think too hard about how fucked up his life had become.
The job was easy enough. Toss a hand here, a busted endoskeleton there—pretend he wasn’t cleaning up what was essentially robotic corpses.
Just another morning at Freddy’s.
Then the door swung open.
And Karl walked in.
Michael looked up, surprised. “You’re early.”
Karl stopped in the doorway, blinking at him like he wasn’t expecting him to be there.
“…Yeah,” Karl muttered.
He reached into his coat, pulled out a flask, and took a long sip.
Michael raised an eyebrow.
Karl caught the look and smirked. “What? You want some?”
Michael deadpanned. “I’m seventeen.”
Karl snorted. “Stupid law.”
Michael went back to boxing up Toy Chica’s severed arms. “You know, I could report you for that.”
Karl grinned, dead-eyed. “And I could pretend I care.”
Michael just shook his head.
Karl leaned against a table, watching Michael work.
“You know,” Karl muttered, “if Freddy’s wasn’t closed, I’d throw you a birthday party.”
Michael paused.
“Oh.”
Karl shrugged, taking another sip from his flask. “Guess we’ll try again next year.”
Michael wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
Mostly because it required assuming he’d work here that long.
Karl was staring at nothing, twirling the flask in his hands.
Michael had never seen him this out of it before.
He’d seen Karl annoyed, exhausted, vaguely pissed off—but this?
This was different.
“You good?” Michael asked.
Karl let out a short, humorless laugh.
“Not even remotely.”
Karl exhaled, staring down at his hands.
“I ruined my life,” he muttered.
Michael stopped boxing parts.
Karl’s voice was flat, empty. “I started at Fredbear’s, y’know. Watched it all happen. Then I moved to Freddy’s. Thought it’d be different. Thought I’d be different. But—”
He swallowed, rubbing his face.
“The things I’ve done for this company…” He let out a bitter chuckle. “No amount of church is fixing that.”
Michael didn’t know what to say.
Because what was there to say?
Karl wasn’t wrong.
Some things didn’t get forgiven.
Karl let out another shaky laugh.
“My wife left me,” he said, voice slurring slightly. “For the fucking postman. Can you believe that?”
Michael… didn’t know what to do with that information.
Karl shook his head. “I mean, sure, maybe I wasn’t great. But a fucking postman?”
Michael just blinked at him.
Karl took another long drink.
“But y’know,” he muttered, “it’s not like I could’ve saved my marriage. Not after…”
He trailed off.
The air shifted.
Michael sat a little straighter.
Karl set his flask down, hands trembling.
“Not after our daughter died.”
Michael’s stomach twisted.
Karl let out a shaky breath.
“My daughter,” he whispered. “She—she was killed. Back in 85. In this fucking place.”
Michael felt the air leave his lungs.
Karl’s face crumpled.
“Killed by some psycho. On my watch.”
And just like that—
Karl broke.
Michael had never seen a grown man fall apart like this.
Karl pressed his hands to his face, shaking.
“I should’ve known,” he whispered. “I—I should’ve seen it coming. But I didn’t. I didn’t.”
Michael just sat there, watching helplessly.
Because what the hell was he supposed to say?
He wasn’t good at this.
At emotions.
At dealing with other people’s pain when he could barely handle his own.
So he just sat there.
Silent.
Listening.
Letting Karl grieve.
Because what else could he do?
Karl sniffed, rubbing at his eyes.
“…Shit,” he muttered. “I—I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. You’ve got your own shit. The—the bite, your brother—”
Michael flinched.
Karl sighed.
“Sorry, kid.”
Michael shook his head. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t.
But what else was he supposed to say?
Karl exhaled.
“Her name was Cassidy. I called her my little princess. She hated it.” He tried to chuckle but it sounded wrong.
Karl didn’t say anything else.
Michael didn’t push.
He just sat there.
Listening.
And for once, Karl let the silence just exist.
----------------------------------------
Mary.
----------------------------------------
Mary threw herself onto the couch, letting out a long, aggravated groan.
Michael sat in the chair across from her, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
“So,” he said, voice dry, “I’m guessing work went great?”
Mary tilted her head up to glare at him.
“Mike,” she said, voice slow and deadly, “I swear to God, if you say one more sarcastic thing, I am throwing you out the window.”
Michael made a so-so motion with his hand. “I mean, that’s assuming you can lift me.”
Mary grabbed a throw pillow and launched it at his face.
Michael caught the pillow, unimpressed. “Okay. So what happened?”
Mary exhaled sharply. “Roger Harrington is a spineless, money-hungry piece of shit, that’s what happened.”
Michael blinked. “Your boss?”
“Yeah.” She sat up, running a hand through her hair. “Carl and I told him everything—the animatronics, The Rat, everything. And you know what he did?”
Michael leaned forward slightly. “Laughed?”
“Worse.” Mary gritted her teeth. “He pretended nothing happened.”
Michael’s expression darkened slightly.
Mary continued, voice rising. “Like—oh sure, Mary and Carl just hallucinated a fucking murder machine crawling out of storage! No big deal! Let’s just ignore it and go back to work like nothing happened!”
Michael didn’t say anything for a second.
Then—quietly—he muttered, “That’s fucked.”
Mary let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. You think?”
Michael exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. Something in his posture shifted.
“…My boss at least acknowledges that things are bad.”
Mary paused. “Yeah?”
Michael nodded, looking almost reluctant to talk about it. “He showed up early while I was cleaning up. He was… drunk. Not just regular drunk—falling apart drunk.”
Mary blinked. “Wait—your boss was hammered at six in the morning?”
Michael let out a short laugh. “Yeah. And, uh—he kind of lost it on me.”
Mary frowned. “Lost it how?”
Michael hesitated.
Then, softly:
“He told me very depressing things. Things that are not meant to be shared without consent. He ranted about the missing children incident too”
Mary cringed at that.
She heard about that.
The room went quiet for a long moment.
Then, before she could second-guess herself, Mary shifted closer to Michael, resting her arm on the armrest of his chair.
“…You okay?” she asked, voice quieter now.
Michael blinked at her, like he wasn’t expecting the question.
Then he shrugged. “I mean. I should be used to hearing about dead kids by now, right?”
Mary frowned. “Mike.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I dunno. It’s just…”
He trailed off.
Mary watched him, waiting.
Michael exhaled. “He was just—so guilty. Like he’d been carrying it around forever, and it just… cracked him open.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know what the hell to do. So I just sat there and let him talk.”
Mary bit the inside of her cheek.
She had no idea what she would’ve done in that situation either.
So, instead of saying something stupid, she did the only thing she could think of.
She reached out—hesitated for half a second—and then gave his hand a quick, firm squeeze.
Michael froze.
But Mary felt it—the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way he didn’t pull away.
She let go before it could get weird.
Michael cleared his throat. “Uh. Thanks.”
Mary shrugged. “Whatever.”
Michael smirked slightly. “Was that a caring gesture? Mary, are you going soft on me?”
Mary’s face heated instantly.
She shoved his shoulder. “Don’t push your luck.”
Michael chuckled, shaking his head.
But the moment lingered.
Mary felt it, even if neither of them said it out loud.
They were too close.
The room felt too warm.
And suddenly, Mary was very aware that she wanted to kiss him.
…Wait. What.
Mary shot to her feet so fast she almost knocked over the lamp.
“Okay, cool, great talk—I need a drink!”
Michael blinked at her sudden energy shift. “…You good?”
“Yep. Totally fine. Super fine.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “You’re acting weird.”
“Nope.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.”
Michael gave her a suspicious look.
Then he stood up, stretching. “Whatever. I’m gonna use your bathroom.”
Mary nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, go ahead.”
Michael disappeared down the hall.
And the second the door shut, Mary collapsed back onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.
She was so fucking screwed.