"That's forty times now," the guard said as he struck his lighter again. A small flame was sparked in the dark shadows of the hallway. The red and black tiled floors felt cold underneath him, as he sat with his legs crossed indian style. He let the Zippo match lighter wink out.

Darkness.

He struck it.

Light was cast across the intersection, as the children's drawings on the left, right, and front walls were illuminated. The man was jerked forward a little, but not by much, as three hard bangs sounded from the door at his back.

A muffled voice shouted, "You can't do this man! Please! Just let me out!."

The man scooted back up against the door. At night, it never seemed to be locked, or even have a door handle. It was just a massive slab of metal that read 'Parts and Services'. "I'm sorry, but it's better me than you," the night watchman said as he squashed the flame again with his metal lighter top. His ragged, torn, white shirt with black tie seemed to be the only bright spot as his long, black pants, in the same condition as his shirt, perfectly merged with the darkness.

He struck the lighter.

Down the front hallway, he saw the faintest hint of movement. To some, a small brown blur would simply be considered a trick of the eyes. But, this night guard knew better, "Here they come. Yo, what's the time?"

Three more forceful raps, "Please, don't do this!" There was a hint of a sob coming from the slightly feminine voice behind the door.

The guard put the flame out, "What. Is. The. Time?"

There was a brief silence followed by a noise that sounded a bit like crying, "...5:45."

The man took a deep breath, and then let it out, "Then, I'll just have to keep em back for 20 minutes."

He struck the flame.

This time, there was no question. There was something standing in the front hallway. Something big, brown, and in need of some serious repairs. The man slowly turned his head and the flame to the left and right hallways. Down the left hallway was one long purple ear that drooped to the right side, with a long right arm that ended in wires, making it look akin to a claw. Down the right path wasn't much, just a white bib that seemed to be fused into a yellow body. It read 'Let's Eat!'

The man killed the flame, then stood up. His legs were sore from sitting in the same position, but they moved. His arms popped as he used them to push himself off the floor, but they were ready to be used when needed. His back hurt from keeping the door closed against the occupant's relentless assaults, but he would hold it shut for as long as was needed. He grabbed his trusty flashlight in his right hand, and took his left, which still held the lighter, and pulled his hat so that the flap faced the front. The cap was a symbol of his position at the restaurant. Along with the badge, it identified him as one of the night guards for the Pizzeria, under contract to protect it from any attempts at violating the law, in or around the establishment. Plus, it kept his rather unruly black, coarse, hair under control, and looked pretty sweet too.

He knew that his flashlight only had a limited amount of power left. He had been using it a lot since he got here. Having no doors to close really left him with little options in way of making sure his skin stayed out of one those suits. He figured he'd lucked out when he heard about that glitch in the machines, where light rapidly flashed at one would freeze a bot in place for a time. He quickly realized, that didn't mean that one flash was enough to stop them for any amount of time. He knew that he would probably only be able to freeze two of them before the third got him.

It was better than going out like a punk.

He lit the flame.

"Well, it's about time you three got here." Mike Schmidt, night guard for the Freddy Fazbear Pizzeria, stood facing the three animatronics that had been making his life a living hell for the past 4 months now.

The last time Mike had seen the robots(or "jerkass-bots" as he liked to call them) they didn't look all that impressive. There were wires that you could see from an entire hallway down sticking out of them, their bodies seemed to have something caked onto(and into) them(he didn't know what), and there were pizza stains here and there on their fur. But, compared to how they looked now, that was them in their Hey-Day.

Bonnie seemed to be the worst of the three. He body seemed to be constantly bending at an angle, giving the idea that he walked with a limp. His right arm was still intact, and functional Mike saw when Bonnie seemed to close his paw into a fist and then open it up again. In stark contrast, Bonnie's entire left arm was missing, which might explain why he was favoring his right side. Oh, he also didn't have a face. Yeah, no face, yet he was still moving like a fucking zombie. Mike thought it might have something to do with the glowing red eyes that constantly showed, but he doubt just those and a lower jaw could keep an entire robot body moving.

Chica was somewhere in the between normal and completely scrapped. The only real damage that could be seen was where her face and beak were. It looked as if someone had grabbed the top and bottom parts of her beak, and ripped them apart. Mike cursed a bit in his head, he had wanted to do that. Other than that, and the weird wires that run along her body making her look like a puppet, she hadn't changed a bit.

And then, there was Freddy. Mike didn't know where Foxy was, but he was pretty sure that Freddy cheated him out of some kind of deal. Where the older Bonnie, Chica, and the aforementioned fox all seemed like they just got pulled out of a dumpster, Freddy looked, at least half way decent. His body, arms, hands, feet, and even his head looked almost exactly same from the last time Mike saw him, and considering that Mike was from the future that's saying something. The only hint that he was in disrepair, was how his arms and legs seemed to be separated in certain places. It made the big bear look like he was cut to pieces by a blender, on high.

"So, which one of you will be the one to do me in, huh?" Mike looked each of the animatronics in the eyes, showing that he wasn't afraid. He didn't care if they stabbed him, ripped him apart, stuffed him in a suit, or whatever it was they did to the guards they had managed to catch. He was either gonna go down fighting, or take one of them down with him. Mike flicked his eyes between the big three, looking at them as well as trying to see behind them. He didn't know where Foxy or the Toy animatronics were, and that's what worried him. Unlike when he worked alone as a night guard, these animatronics were smart enough to go through the vents to get ya. He couldn't remember if there were any vents in the parts room, but if there were… Mike chose not to think about it.

Above all, his primary concern was the fucking Puppet. Since no one was in the office, the music box would just keep going until it wound down. Then, the box would open, and that demon would be let loose. Even when he looked at that overgrown doll during the day, it creeped him the fuck out. Mike had always had a sneaking suspicion(confirmed when he first took this god-forsaken job) about these furry-bots, but that-thing was something entirely different. He felt like it knew more than a simple AI should know, almost like it was sentient. That was a thought that really scared Mike.

He didn't see the Marionette fucker at all, but that may have been just because it was dark. Even so-

It was the sound that saved him more than anything else. The unmistakable whine of circuitry and gears working to bring something to bear. Mike had heard it every night he had spent at this hellhole. He was glad that he had committed the sound to memory, as he felt Bonnie's claw gives his left side burn a bit of a trim. His dodge was sloppy, hastily made, and left him wide open for much longer than he wanted. It wasn't a very graceful move, but it afforded him the opening he needed. Nearly falling to the floor from the effort put into the dodge, Mike pulled up the flashlight and flashed it across Bonnie's face.

That glitch in the system had saved both Mike and his co-worker from Foxy's jump attacks countless times, and it is what he used to his advantage now. The hallway was lit up for a couple of seconds as he moved the flashlight across Chica's face. He gave her two quick flashes, bringing himself upright as he did. His light cast across Freddy's frame, showing a massive brown fist coming right at the security guard.

Fist fighting had been apart of Mike's life for as long as he could remember. He had faced down school bullies, street toughs, and the occasional mugger in the dark alley way. He didn't win all of those fights, but he never let it be said he didn't give a good account of himself. For every bruise he left with, his opponents left with ten more. And, even though Mike knew his physical prowess could never match up with the unlimited power of the metal monster Freddy was, he sure as fuck was not going down without a fight.

The light on the Zippo was out, as Mike brought his left fist up in a hook to meet the big bear's right hook. Mike closed his eyes, waiting for the pain that would be his end.

The building was filled with the sound of metal being wrenched from its place. The scream of gears, circuits, and steel coming apart reminded Mike of the time he saw a Mustang crash into a thirteen wheeler. The wheeler hadn't seen the car coming, and slammed right into it's left side. The sports car was completely mangled, totaled beyond repair. Mike figured that was what his left arm looked like right about now.

What puzzled him was, he wasn't on the ground screaming in agony. In fact, he could still feel his left arm, and the cold metal of the lighter in the closed fist. Mike thought, 'Maybe the impact was so strong, I immediately, and am on the floor in a coma of sorts?' Yeah, that seemed like the most reasonable answer at the time.

Mike really wished that was the actual answer as he opened his eyes, and beheld something impossible. Not only was his left arm completely intact, and looked none the worse for ware from the attack. Not only was the place where Freddy's arm used to be reduced to a stump of broken wires, cut circuitry, and sparking electricity. Not only was he still standing, and not feeling any pain at all in any part of his body.

His left arm was glowing so bright that it was illuminating the entire hallway.

Mike could only say one thing in response, "THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?"