Michael
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Michael had been working at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza long enough to know one thing: nothing good ever happened when management and cops were in the same room.
So, naturally, when he arrived at the restaurant early for his shift, walked into the main area, and saw both Karl and Ralph overseeing the disassembly of Mangle and Balloon Boy, his first instinct was to turn around and pretend he didn’t see shit.
Unfortunately, Karl spotted him before he could make his escape.
“Afton!”
Michael sighed and trudged over. “What’s up?”
Karl, the manager of Freddy’s and Michael’s surprisingly competent boss, gestured toward the technicians currently taking apart Mangle’s mess of wires and limbs. “Cops finally said they got all the evidence they needed. They only want some of Mangle’s parts for the report, so we’re making sure she doesn’t activate at twelve A.M. again.”
Michael glanced at the half-disassembled animatronic, its creepy, twitching endoskeleton more exposed than usual. “Good call.”
“Damn right, good call,” Ralph—better known as Phone Guy—grumbled from where he was standing beside Karl. “Thing gave me a heart attack more than once. Never should’ve replaced Foxy with it.”
Michael smirked. “And Balloon Boy?”
Ralph scowled in the animatronic’s direction. “That little bastard can burn for all I care.”
Michael chuckled but didn’t disagree.
“Afton, come here for a sec,” Karl said, clapping Michael on the back and steering him toward his office.
Michael frowned, following him inside. “What’s up?”
Karl shut the door behind them, leaned against his desk, and studied him for a moment before sighing.
“You’re a great employee, Mike,” Karl said, folding his arms. “Seriously. You’ve handled this night shift better than most. Better than even the boss when he did it back in the day.”
Michael blinked, surprised. “Uh… thanks?”
Karl exhaled. “Yeah, well. That’s kinda the problem.”
Michael immediately stiffened.
Oh, shit.
This was it.
He was getting fired.
Karl must’ve seen the panic flash across his face because he quickly held up a hand. “Relax. You’re not fired.”
Michael’s shoulders loosened slightly. “Could’ve led with that.”
Karl snorted. “Maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “So what’s the problem?”
Karl hesitated.
Then—
“Look. Corporate is trying to clean up Fazbear’s reputation, right?”
Michael nodded slowly.
“Well,” Karl continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “having the son of the co-founder who as far as the news and public are aware killed his brother accident or not working here directly isn’t the best look.”
Michael froze.
For a moment, all he could hear was the phantom sound of Fredbear’s jaws snapping shut.
Karl noticed but didn’t say anything. He just sighed. “Mike… it’s not you. You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just—your name.”
Michael swallowed. “So what? If I am not getting fired? Then what? Are you making me quit?”
Karl shook his head. “Nope.”
Michael blinked. “Wait, what?”
Karl smirked. “You’re getting promoted.”
Michael stared at him.
“…What.”
Karl chuckled. “Okay, technically, it’s a transfer. You’re gonna be night guard at a Fazbear-owned warehouse.”
Michael frowned. “Wait. Warehouse? What warehouse?”
Karl shrugged. “One of many. They’re moving everything there before Freddy’s transitions to a new location.”
Michael raised an eyebrow. “And no animatronics?”
Karl grinned. “No animatronics.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”
Karl smirked. “You gotta finish a few more shifts here first. We’re moving all the animatronics that were not scraping to the new location in the next three weeks.”
Michael sighed. “Figures.”
Karl clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, cheer up, kid. You get one more paycheck, then you never have to deal with Freddy and his gang ever again.”
Michael hummed, unconvinced.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Something about this felt off.
Still, it was better than getting fired.
He exhaled. “Alright. Guess I’ll take it.”
Karl grinned. “Good man.”
As Michael processed his not-firing-but-also-not-promotion, Karl leaned back against his desk and studied him.
Then he smirked. “By the way...What’s her name?”
Michael blinked. “What?”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “The girl. There is a girl, right? You got that ‘I’ve been talking to someone interesting’ look since you got here..”
Michael sighed. “Jesus Christ.”
Karl grinned. “C’mon, tell your old boss. What’s she like?”
Michael groaned. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Her name’s Mary.”
Karl’s smirk widened. “And?”
“And we work the same shift,” Michael said flatly.
Karl grinned. “Oh-ho. A coworker romance?” Then he paused. "Wait no there isn't a Mary working here unless Ralph forgot to mention a new hire."
Michael groaned. “No. She works at Candy’s.”
Karl froze.
His smirk vanished.
He blinked.
“…You’re dating the competition?”
Michael choked. “I am not dating her!”
Karl burst out laughing.
Michael groaned.
Karl wiped a tear from his eye. “Jesus, kid. First you keep pranking me at the last location, now this? You love making my job harder, huh?”
Michael huffed. “It’s not like that. We are just… Friends. We just compared notes about the Night Shift.”
Karl raised an eyebrow. “Compared notes?”
Michael hesitated.
Then he told him.
Everything.
About the weird animatronic behavior. About how both Freddy’s and Candy’s were experiencing it. About Mary’s dad´s theory. About the possible sabotage.
Karl stopped laughing.
By the time Michael finished, Karl was staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“…Alright,” Karl muttered, rubbing his chin. “That’s… something.”
Michael frowned. “You believe me?”
Karl exhaled. “Look, kid. I like you, but I also like my job. So, I gotta be careful about what I do and don’t listen to.”
Michael clenched his jaw. “But you do think something’s wrong.”
Karl sighed. “Look, Mike… if what you’re saying is true…”
He hesitated.
Then—
“…Maybe Jeremy’s fate wasn’t an accident.”
Michael stiffened.
Karl muttered something under his breath. Then—
“…Maybe that’s why those kids—”
He stopped himself.
Michael froze.
He knew that tone.
That hesitation.
It was the same hesitation Michael had when he said something that would upset dad.
Karl had almost said something he wasn’t supposed to say.
Something important.
Michael’s stomach twisted.
Karl exhaled. “Alright. Get ready for your shift, kid.”
Michael narrowed his eyes. “Karl—”
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“I’ve got phone calls to make.”
Michael wanted to press.
Wanted to demand answers.
But Karl’s expression was firm.
The conversation was over.
For now.
Michael clenched his jaw, turned, and walked toward the security office.
But as he did, one thought burned in his mind—
Something worse was going on.
And Karl knew it.
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Mary
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Mary stared out the car window, watching the dimly lit streets blur past.
Her dad, hands steady on the wheel, let out a sigh. “Still no news on your car.”
Mary huffed. “Figures.”
It had been days, and still, no one had found Rusty. She had long since resigned herself to the fact that some asshole was probably joyriding it into a ditch somewhere.
Her dad glanced at her. “You should report it again.”
“I did report it,” Mary muttered. “Not like they’re gonna do anything.”
Her dad hummed thoughtfully. “Want me to drive you tomorrow too?”
Mary shook her head. “Nah. I’ll figure something out.”
Her dad gave her a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, he slowed the car as they pulled up to the empty parking lot of Candy’s Burgers & Fries.
The neon sign flickered slightly, casting a sickly blue glow onto the pavement. The building looked normal—just a restaurant at rest, waiting for another busy day.
But Mary knew better.
She always did.
Her dad parked the car and turned toward her. “You sure about this job, Mary?”
Mary sighed. “Dad—”
“I know you like to act tough,” he said. “But something’s been bugging you. You can talk to me.”
Mary clenched her jaw.
She wanted to tell him.
Tell him about the way she felt like her life was in danger. Tell him about the cold, crawling feeling that settled in her gut every night. Tell him that she wasn’t just being paranoid. Tell him that she still remembered the Factory.
But instead, she forced a grin and said, “Relax, Dad. I got this.”
He didn’t look convinced. But he nodded.
“Alright,” he said. “Be careful.”
Mary opened the car door. “Always am.”
Her dad snorted. “That’s a lie.”
Mary smirked and stepped out into the cold night air. “See you in the morning.”
With that, she shut the door and walked toward the building.
She didn’t look back.
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11:59 PM
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Mary pushed open the employee entrance, stepping into the dimly lit back hallway.
Candy’s after-hours always had a weird feeling to it—too quiet, too still, like the walls were waiting for something.
She scanned the restaurant.
No one.
She was alone.
At least, she thought she was.
Because for a split second, just at the edge of her vision—
Something moved.
Mary froze.
Slowly, she turned her head toward the darkness near the arcade machines.
Nothing.
The shadows stared back at her, empty.
Mary swallowed hard, shaking it off. Tired. You’re just tired.
She forced herself forward, heading straight to her office.
As soon as she stepped inside—
The lights went out.
Just another night in hell.
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5:58 AM
Mary hated this job.
It was 5 AM.
She was running low on power.
And the animatronics would not leave her the hell alone.
She watched the cameras, fingers twitching over the buttons, breathing shallowly.
The stage was empty.
The halls were not.
Candy was too close. Chester was lingering. Cindy was in the damn doorway again.
Her power was at 4%.
Mary swore under her breath, slamming a button to shut a door.
One more hour. Just few more minutes.
She flicked through the cameras, checking the back rooms, the arcade, the—
She froze.
A door was cracked open.
Something was behind it.
Something watching her.
Then—
The door creaked further open.
And peeking through, illuminated by the dim emergency lights—
The Rat.
Mary stopped breathing.
No. No. No.
She hadn’t seen that thing in years.
It wasn’t here anymore.
It wasn’t supposed to be here.
So why was it staring at her?
Her fingers wouldn’t move.
Her brain was screaming at her to do something—close a door, check another camera, anything—but she couldn’t.
Because all she could hear was the faint, faint whisper of memory—
The factory. The screams. The blood.
And then—
The Power ran out.
The office door slammed open.
Candy stepped inside.
The lights flickered.
Candy stood in the doorway, his glowing eyes locking onto her.
Mary’s breath hitched.
She was too slow.
Too late.
She tried to shove herself backward, but Candy’s hand shot forward.
Metal fingers curled around her head.
And then—
The factory.
Blood on the floor.
Screaming.
So much screaming.
Her fault. Her fault. HER FAULT.
She was just supposed to stay awake.
She fell asleep.
And then—
6 AM.
The chime rang through the restaurant.
Candy’s grip loosened.
He let go.
Stepped back.
Turned.
And walked away.
Mary sat there, frozen on the floor, staring at the ceiling, gasping for breath.
Her hands were shaking.
Her whole body was shaking.
The factory. The blood. The screams.
It was happening again.
It was never going to stop.
Tears slipped down her face as she curled into herself, pressing her hands against her head, whispering over and over—
“I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.”
But no one was there to hear her.
No one ever was.