"And today's top story local man, Mike Schmidt, saved Julia Nanam from her stalker, Chris Neuman. According to Nanam she had issued a restraining order on Neuman when she was 18 to stop his tendency to follow her everywhere. Neuman became unstable, cornering Nanam in an open grassland—"

Jeremy changed the channel, his hand temporarily leaving the small stack of bills in front of him.

"—Mr. Neuman was taken into custody after the police arrived on the scene. However, thanks to the heroics of Mike Schmidt, Ms. Nanam will go home with no serious injur—"

Jeremy hit the remote again.

"—this news station was lucky enough to get a short interview with the local hero, who works as a Night Guard for Fazbear Entertainment. He had this to say," the blonde woman on the screen switched to an image of Mike, black hair slightly covering his eyes in certain places, " 'I'm nothing special. Just a good samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time.' "

Jeremy lifted up the stack of papers in one hand while rubbing his forehead with the other, "Ok. I think I have an idea for a budget for the rest of the week." He relaxed backwards into his wooden chair, placing the papers back on the table.

He looked around at the rather shitty apartment room. They didn't really have much lining the alabaster walls of the room. Then again, it's hard to afford anything on $100.50 a week. Sure, they both get their own respective paychecks, but that's only $201.00 for one week of work! That's not even enough to afford their own car!

Jeremy stood up and walked over to their singular fridge. It was boxy and grey, filled to the brim with leftovers from the dinner at Mr. Fazbear's place. Surprisingly, the man actually ate the same pizza that they served at the restaurant. Jeremy always thought the food had tasted like feet covered in spoiled cheese, but food was food.

Pizza and plate in hand, he made his way over to the single three seat couch that took up most of the room. The lone sofa creaked a bit as he sat down, it's old age showing clear through the torn fabric.

Sighing, Jeremy took a bite out of the pizza and flicked the TV to something other than the News.

He already knew what every News Channel would be covering anyway; Mike.

From CBS to Fox 4, Mike was the name on everyone's lips. Over the course of a day, Mike had gone from just a no name Night Guard, to one of the most famous people in the city. Sure, the police could try to arrest him for technically dispensing vigilante justice, but he had turned the criminal in and had won over most of the population with his heroics. So, the police decided to let this slide.

The sound of fist hitting leather reached his ears, and Jeremy glanced at the door to Mike's Room. There wasn't much on the door, just some posters of his favorite Metal Band, Disturbed, and some old fake webs from Halloween. Mike was probably practicing with his punching bag like he did everyday at 10:00 AM. When Jeremy had asked why he did that, Mike said something about "Being prepared if those jerkass bots actually got into the room."

Jeremy scowled as he heard another New Reporter talking about Mike's Heroic action earlier today. It's not that he's jealous of Mike. Far from it, he's happy that Mike used his—whatever they were powers—for something good, instead of stealing from a bank or something. He was just….worried.

'I'm probably just overthinking things,' he always said that to himself whenever he felt like he worried about Mike a bit too much. But it was true. While, yes, they never received any kudos for the work they did, they didn't need any. Both of them were content in the fact that they knew something that no one else did. And that they were the only line of defense between the world(or at least other security guards) and….whatever those robots had planned for humanity.

But now? Now there were people who knew who Mike was, or at least knew what he looked like. Who knows what could happen? They could get swarmed by rabid fans, or what if someone notices Mike's "uniqueness" and turns him into the government? Or, what if their boss finally comes to his senses and fires them for good? Or what if—

"Hey, Jere. You OK man?" Jeremy yelped and slightly jumped out of his sleep. He turned around quickly, and relaxed as he saw Mike standing there with towel over his shoulders. His white skin, muscled yet lean, was glistening with sweat. He must've been really pushing himself in there.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Mike's hand shot back to his side, "Oh, sorry man. You zoned out for a second there."

Jeremy sighed and shook his head, "Yeah, sorry about that man. I was just thinking. Did you need something?"

"Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask you, since when did I start to glow gold?"

"Oh since—wait a minute," Jeremy's eyes widened, "You mean you finally realized it!?"

Mike nodded, "Yeah, saw it while I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom. In fact, I remember seeing it when I was talking to this little girl earlier today. It was back at the pizzeria. When I saw my reflection in her eyes, I noticed that I had some kind of glow around me."

Mike's hand flew to his chin, and began to scratch his stubble, "At first I thought it was just a trick of the light, but come to think of it, the first time I remember seeing it was—"

"At the pizzeria," Jeremy finished for him. "It was when you were cornered by the Old Animatronics, right?"

Mike was silent for a time as his mind made sense of the new information. It didn't take long for him to put two and two together, "Oh. My. God. You thinking what I'm thinking."

Jeremy nodded.

"Those animatronics won't know what hit 'em!"

"We have to find out what this is."

"Huh?" the two men said in unison.

"What do you mean, 'won't know what hit 'em'?!"

Mike grabbed Jeremy by his shoulders, "Dude, what have we been doing the entire time we've worked at that shitty place?"

Jeremy struggled to find the right words(he had them, he just didn't want to be rude) as Mike continued, "We've been hiding from them! We've been consistently backed against a wall, most times literally, by those robotic fucks! And why?

At this point Mike's eyes had a dangerous sheen to them that made Jeremy shiver a bit.

Because we couldn't hurt them." Mike was smiling, and it reached all the way to his ears, "But now, we can hurt them. I can hurt them. Jeremy, we don't have to hide anymore. No more cowering until the clock strikes six. No more winding up that damn music box. No more being stuck in that god forsaken room! It's time we brought the fight to them."

"But what about after?!" Jeremy rarely ever yelled. People had told him that his squeaky voice made him sound like a girl. While Mike had silenced these bullies, Jeremy still did his best to keep his voice as low and deep as possible.

Now though, he was more worried about Mike than about his voice, "Even if we "bring the fight" to them, what are we supposed to do afterwards?! Mr. Fazbear will fire us for sure! He may even get the police on us, and have us arrested for property damage! What if—"

Jeremy felt a weight lift from his shoulders and a hand rubbed his hair. He looked up, and for the first time that day, got a good look at Mike's eyes.

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, and Jeremy had always been able to see Mike's since they first met. The navy blue orbs always had the haunted looks of a fighter about them, constantly sizing everyone and everything that might be a threat up. In those eyes, one would see Mike's distress, not just at the new animatronics, but at the ones where he came from as well. He had spent 7 nights with those mechanical monstrosities, and the only things between him and certain death were two metal doors. He had come across the one thing every fighter dreads; an enemy he can't just punch to death.

But, when Jeremy looked into Mike's smiling face he didn't see those eyes.

He saw golden orbs that shined brighter than the sun itself.

And suddenly, he felt at peace in Mike's presence.

He felt like everything would be alright.

For in those eyes, he saw the three traits that a fighter needs to win a battle.

Drive.

Bravery.

And Hope.

"Jere, my man, there's a saying in my time," he let Jeremy's head alone, and reached to straighten his hat, " 'Learn from the past, prepare for the future, live in the present.' And right now, what you're doing is 'worrying about the future' not preparing for it."

"Well then," Jeremy suddenly felt very small under Mike's gaze. As if he was but an ant standing next to a giant, "how should I prepare?"

"By trusting me."

Jeremy looked up at Mike, trying to find even a hint of doubt. Some little nervous twitch that would let Jeremy know that Mike felt even a tiny bit of fear at what he was proposing they do.

But he found none.

Jeremy sighed heavily, "Alright, I'm in."

----------------------------------------

The moon rose and bathed Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria in its pale light.

From the outside, the place looked completely dead. The parking lot was deserted, and there were no lights shining on the inside.

Only madmen would enter this place at night.

'Or people who want to get paid.' The Marionette thought inside of his box. He heard the front door to the establishment slam open, and smiled to himself. He had gathered the rest of the group around at 11: 30 PM to go over the plan one last time.

It wasn't a perfect meeting, Freddy and Foxy made it clear that they didn't like how they were forced to sit this one out. The Marionette understood their anger, after all Mike had hit them the hardest. Thankfully, Mr. Fazbear reached into that endless money pit of his, and was able to get them both back up to factory standard. He knew that they were both itching for a go at the Night Guard.

But they needed them to hang back for now.

If their plan was going to work, they needed the both of them in the Parts and Service room today.

Once everyone was in place, the real show could begin.

The players were ready.

The stage was set.

12:00 AM.

The curtain rises.