Mike takes his first step out of the prison in two years. He looks up at the sky with his new “proper” clothes on. The pressed, blue button up shirt and brown pants with matching belt felt stifling in the summer sun. He ran a hand through his much shorter black hair, letting the sweat slick it back slightly. His beard had been shaved, leaving his chin completely exposed to the elements. In his other hand he held the straps of a green bag with what little belongings he got once he was out. Some cash, a t-shirt, sweatpants, and worn tennis shoes.
His body was much different than it was when he first entered the facility. His pale skin was tanned by his activities. His muscles were much more defined and could be seen through the tight shirt on his body. They were mainly concentrated on his upper arms and legs, making him look slightly uneven. He cracked his neck while looking down both sides of the road, his ears open for any coming traffic. He sighs and glances at the guard to his left. The prison guard was the picture of what someone of his position should be. He stood tall, both hands behind his back and hat sat straight on his head. He kept one eye on Mike and other on the road heading towards the prison.
Mike scratched his neck thinking back on his “relationships” with the guards in the joint. They weren’t very good ones, mainly due him always getting put in solitary for “causing trouble”.
What they called trouble, he called defending himself. But give certain guys a fancy shirt and tell ‘em they’re in charge, and they think they can do whatever they want to you. Out of all the guards he had dealt with while doing time, only two hadn’t gone made with power. Those two were cool and would be the only ones who spoke up for Mike when he was being punished. Made conditions in there a bit more bearable.
The former nightguard arches his back while yawning to keep his body moving. He’s noticed his body has had much more energy ever since he was in the prison. Couldn’t exactly let his guard down at any moment. Just about everyday had him on edge and waiting for the next attack. Not something that’s going to go away overnight.
Just as Mike stopped stretching, the faint sound of a car’s engine reaches his ears. The guard’s head swivels towards the east to stare down the road. Mike does the same, watching as a silverfish car rolled to a stop right in front of them. Like clockwork, the guard stepped in front of Mike and bent down to investigate the car’s driver side window. Before he could say anything, the window rolled down and revealed a young face with a blonde beard and mustache combo.
The guard coughed into his hand before speaking, “Name and proof of identity, please.”
The young man handed the guard a license while speaking a much deeper, yet still slightly girlish voice, “Jeremy Fitzgerald.”
Mike lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but he refrained from dashing forward to take a closer look at his bud. Wouldn’t want the Boy in Blue here to get the wrong idea and come up with a reason for him to stay longer.
The guard made a show of inspecting the card, constantly looking between it and Jeremy. The man’s blonde hair had lengthened and now reached the base of his neck. He rolled his eyes as the guard finally gave him his license back.
The man turned towards Mike and beckoned him over with a scowl on his face. Mike walked forward as the guard began to speak, “Everything seems to be in order. Remember, you’re on parole, not off the chain. Speak with your officer and make sure you don’t step out of line. Cause if you do…,” he jerks a thumb in the direction of the prison to punctuate his statement.
Mike rolls his eyes while nodding along with whatever the man says. He walks around the front of the car and gets into the passenger side. The second he closes his door, Jeremy hits the gas and takes off down the road.
The two men sit in silence for a long time. Both keep glancing at random things on the road or in their hands as they search for a good conversation starter.
Mike is the one to break the silence, “So…got a car, huh?”
“Around last year,” Jeremy says while casually turning a curve.
“It’s spacious, sounds nice, rides smooth. Didn’t you say you wanted a speedster? Like a Jaguar or something.”
“Well sometimes priorities change,” Jeremy adjust the central mirror slightly, “Got a better job than the old one. Pays a thousand times better.”
“I’m absolutely positive anywhere paid better than that place.”
Both men chuckled at the joke, then lapsed into silence again. Jeremy turned right on an intersection before his spoke, “So, what about you? How was…you know?”
“Prison?” Mike cut right to the chase, leaning back in his seat, “Bout what you’d expect. Shitty food, shitty people, shitty everything. They’re not exactly nice places to be.”
“Oh,” Jeremy was quiet as he thought about how to approach the subject he was getting at delicately, “Did, uh…did any of… “that” happen to—”
“Hell no,” Mike said those two words with a finality, “Like I would let any douchebags do that to me. They tried to, oh they did. Failed every time. Thanks to these two right here.”
Mike clenched his hands into fists then kissed his knuckles, “They were some of my only real friends in that joint. Never let me down, not even once.”
Jeremy glanced at his friend out of the corner of his right eye, then started to chuckle again, “Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, Mike.”
“In comparison to you, ‘Mr. Successful’.” Mike points two fingers at Jeremy while winking.
Jeremy shrugs, but smiles too, “It’s nothing special. Just got lucky enough to land a good, stable job at an actual restaurant.”
“Really?” Mike put an elbow near the window while holding up his head with his hand, “You a busboy? No offense, but you kind of have a face that would lead people to think that, Jere. Even with the face fuzz.”
“You’re close. I started as a busboy. But, unlike our old job…,” Jeremy says while pulling into a driveway. He parked the car, took off his seatbelt, and looked at his friend with a smile full of pride, “This one wasn’t a ‘dead end’.”
Mike got out of the car at the same time his friend did, eyebrow raised in confusion. When he stepped onto the concrete of the driveway, he beheld a sight that made his jaw drop.
Jeremy stepped over to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. It was only now that Mike noticed that Jeremy was as tall as him, “Say hello, to our new home.”
Mike could do nothing but stare at the two-story house, covered in windows, lights, and with three, white garage doors staring back at him.
----------------------------------------
“God damn it!” Mike falls backwards onto the three-seater sofa in the middle of the living room. He kicks off his shoes and lets them fall to the ground, too frustrated to put them in front of the door. Greyish light seeped through the curtains into the well-lit room. Mike turned onto his side, letting his arm flop onto the glass table a couple of feet in front of the sofa. He looked towards the medium sized TV set up against the wall a couple of feet from the window. The black box silently reflected Mike’s image back towards him.
He had long since replaced his business casual shirt and pants with something that was more his style. A simple red t-shirt with black and gold shorts that covered his thighs. Worked as both everyday clothes and workout clothes. Plus, it made it less obvious how jacked he was now. Bout the only thing he could do in prison was workout, so he had done so with impunity. Had to make sure his muscle didn’t suffer atrophy while he was in the joint.
His beard was coming back, he could feel hints of stubble whenever he rubbed his chin. Same with his hair though at a slower rate. It would take a while get his old hair style back.
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He glanced at the table and picked up a Sports Illustrated magazine. Just as he was about to open it, a knock on the wall caught his ear. He looked up and saw Jeremy standing in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room, a thick book under one arm and a brown box in both hands. On top of the box was a plate of freshly made Pizza Rolls.
Jeremy smiles while walking towards the sofa, “Didn’t get the job?”
“How could you tell?” Mike asked while shifting to let his friend sit down.
Jeremy sat on the center seat and placed the box on the glass table while keeping the book in his lap.
“You always reach for the Sports Illustrated when you’re feeling frustrated. Want one?” Jeremy indicates the rolls.
“Am I really that predictable? And hell yeah I do,” Mike instantly grabbed three of the hot rolls and popped one into his mouth. He savored the flavor for a bit before swallowing.
“No, it’s just that this is the fifth time you’ve done it after coming home from an interview,” grabbing one of the rolls himself, Jeremy moved the plate from the top of the box to the table, “Why did they refuse you this time?”
“Same reason as the others, though none of them had the balls to admit it,” Mike said while swallowing the third of his rolls, “I’m a convicted felon. A criminal. So what if I got out on parole for good behavior, they’re not gonna risk their hide for me.”
Mike sighed as Jeremy nodded, “Figures. You know you don’t have to do this, right? I make more than enough money to support two people.”
“And you know I couldn’t do that Jere. I don’t wanna mooch off you.”
“You could get a job at my restaurant,” Jeremy taps the sofa, “As you can see, they pay pretty well, and I can put in a good word for you.”
“Thanks, but no thanks man,” Mike leans forward while grabbing more Pizza Rolls, “Once they find out I’m a felon, your rep would hit the floor. That and it would make it harder for me to build up a relationship with the rest of the employees. Some felon who only got hired cause the boss pulled some strings? I’d get more than just bad looks.”
Jeremy shakes his head, “Mike, you’re not exactly making this easy. After five rejections don’t you think that, I don’t know, you should give it some serious thought? I can take whatever flack my superiors throw at me for it and it’s a safer bet than continually putting in for jobs you know won’t take you.”
Mike hangs his head in sympathy, “Sorry, Jere. It’s just…it’s something that I’ve gotta do on my own. It’s the principle of the matter.”
An uneasy silence falls over them both. The rolls sit undisturbed for a few minutes, as if grabbing another would mean restarting the conversation.
Mike reaches out and grabs another roll while sitting up and smiling, “Oh yeah, I met my Parole Officer.”
Jeremy looks towards his friend, thankful to have the subject changed, “Really? How are they?”
“She’s pretty cool. Her name’s Alice. Remembered me from back when I saved that lady. The one being attacked by that creep on our way home? She decided to cut me some slack thanks to that little good deed. Not much mind you, but she won’t be breathing down my neck,” Mike places his arms behind his head with a smug smile, “Guess being a hero does have perks.”
Jeremy’s expression gets a bit dark, “Actually, that’s what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Your powers.” Jeremy makes air quotes with his hands when he says powers. He opens up the large book on his lap after moving the rolls off the box on the table.
Mike sits up as Jeremy starts flipping through the pages of the large book. He notices that the edges of the pages have literal flowers painted on them, and the paper changes colors whenever Jeremy gets to a new section or chapter. It starts out whitish with a hint of grey, before shifting to a sky blue with tiny black dots on it. Many of the pages were covered in long walls of text that Mike felt would give him a headache if he read them for any long period of time. Judging by the glossy hardback and pristine condition of the book, it must’ve cost Jeremy a pretty penny.
He stops on a page and holds it up for Mike to see. He points at the top of the page and ask, “What do you see here?”
Mike examines what his friend was pointing at, “It…looks like a sun. There’s a hole in the middle, but yeah it’s the sun.”
“Right. And below that, it has the word ‘Dawn’,” Jeremy moves his finger to the word, “This is a Caste, a sort of ‘class’, in this RPG called Exalted.”
“Huh. Is that what the book you’re holding is? Where’d you get it?”
“That game store we used to pass by on our way home from work. It’s called Comet and they sold it to me for about eighty dollars.”
Mike whistles, “Wow. Never thought I’d see the day you had the cash to burn on something like that.”
Mike could swear he sees a hint of pride flash through Jeremy’s eyes, before he continues, “So, what does this have to do with my powers?”
“If I’m right, everything,” Jeremy says as he picks up the remote and turns on the TV. The sound of the News Report comes on as he gets ready to stand.
Suddenly, Mike grabs Jeremy’s hand to stop him from moving. His eyes were wide with slight panic as he pointed at the TV screen, “Dude, are you seeing this?”
“Seeing what?” Jeremy’s brows furrow in confusion, until he sees what Mike is pointing at. Then they open wide in dread.
There, scrolling across the bottom of the screen in bright white text were the words they both hoped they would never hear;
Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria: Grand Reopening!
“And our Top Story today,” the News Anchor spoke with a happy smile, “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, the popular Pizza joint for children, is having its Grand Reopening tomorrow. The family-oriented restaurant chain, famous for its state-of-the-art animatronics, closed two years ago after an employee destroyed the mascots for unspecified reasons. However, it is finally coming back to entertain children once again. We now take you to our agent in the field Ms. Julia Nanam.”
The screen changed to show the same woman that Mike had saved two years ago standing in front of a camera. He’d only met her for a few minutes, but the red hair and green eyes were hard to forget. She stood there with a black jacket, shirt and skirt combo with a genuine smile on her face.
“Thanks Tom!” she turned to look towards the familiar face of Mr. Fazbear at her left, “I’m here with the owner of the restaurant chain himself, Mr. Fazbear. Tell me, what made you decide to reopen after all this time?”
Fazbear hardly looked any different from the way he had two years ago. His mafia-esque suit and pants still gave off a feeling of dread, though it was muddled in the afternoon sunlight. His pudgy body matched his face, the fake smile accentuating his joules as he spoke, “Well, Ms. Nanam, we previously shut down thanks to the horrid vandalization of our beloved animatronics. They were so damaged that we didn’t have the funds to repair them in a timely manner, however last year we had a very generous donation from a benefactor who has requested to remain anonymous. Thanks to them, we were able to not only repair the mascots but give them a complete redesign!”
Julia’s eyes widen in surprise, “Really? Can you tell us anything specific about these new designs?”
“I’m afraid not,” Fazbear holds up a finger, “you’ll just have to wait until-“
The TV turned off.
Jeremy sets down the remote.
He closes the book and places it on top of the box.
Then he lets himself fall backwards onto the sofa. His body sinks into the leather while a hand goes to his hair. He shakes it while squeezing his head in one hand, “Ho-how could they’ve rebuilt so quickly. I thought it would take them two more years at least.”
Mike was just as dumbfounded, but that was drowned out by anger and frustration. He crossed his arms with a sneer on his face, “I’m more concerned about this ‘benefactor’. After all the shady shit that goes on around that fucking restaurant, who the hell would want to support it by this point? Let alone with enough money to repair and retrofit those fucking bastarding robots!”
Mike’s fist hit the table once, causing the plate of rolls to jump. Jeremy caught it just in time to stop them from falling to the floor. He sighed with relief then placed them back down on the glass. He looked at his fuming friend with worry gathering in his stomach. He could feel the same helplessness and fear rising up in his chest again. It was like seeing that place coming back had made his old self resurface. He hated that feeling but seeing that News Report just…got to him.
And if that’s how he’s feeling, imagine what Mike is-
“I know what you’re going to say Jere,” Jeremy’s head shot up to look at Mike. Mike’s eyes were staring into his, “And I’m saying it right now; We are not going back to that place. I can’t cause I was convicted for the very thing that closed them down. Fazbear was very clear about me never coming near that restaurant ever again. Besides, if I go back I’ll just fuck something else up for the both of us. You can’t go back cause you have a better job than that place ever was or will be.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, straightening his back against the sofa, “but what about the kids or the new nightguard?”
Mike smiled, leaning back and placing two hands behind his head, “Don’t need to worry at all. First, those things had no interest in harming the kids. They had plenty of chances to do so and, really, there wasn’t a lot anyone could do to stop ‘em. No, they wouldn’t hurt the kids now or ever. Second, while I can’t exactly remember what I did, I do know that I broke those sons of bitches good. Even if they are repaired, there’s no way they’ll be the same as when we were there.
He sweeped a hand across the room, “And that’s all there is to it. Really, we’re not needed there anymore, Jere. That place is our past and it’s a shitty one at that. We don’t need to let it define our future.”
Jeremy stared at Mike for a few moments. Then he started to chuckle, “And here I thought things were different. Yet, here we are again. You lecturing me and I just sitting here listening.”
“Hey,” Mike patted Jeremy on the back, “things have changed. Wouldn’t you normally be the one telling me to not go back?”
Jeremy returned Mike’s gesture, “Guess you’re right. Looks like we’ve both changed a little bit.” The two men laughed, the feeling of camaraderie strong between them. The two prepared to relax a bit, as Jeremy got ready to continue reading from the book.
The sound of knocking came from the front of the house.
Both men looked towards the door, then at each other with their eyebrows raised.
“You expecting someone?” Mike asked while standing up from the sofa.
Jeremy shook his head while getting up as well. He headed towards the door with Mike following behind him. They heard two more knocks against the white door as they reach it. Jeremy squinted his eye as he looked through the peephole at the top.
His eye widened as he saw someone he never thought he’d see again.
“Fritz,” he whispered as the man beyond the door began to speak.
“You there, Jeremy, Mike? I’ve got a job offer for the two of you.”