To say that Mike Schmidt hated his job was an understatement.

He absolutely loathed it, despised it, dreaded coming into work every morning in fear that the night

hadn't of gone by as he had hoped, and there was another body to bury. Another family to lie to. Another name tag for the locker.

During his time as night watch he remembers bolting out the front doors that fifth night, vowing to never set foot in that damned restaurant again or so help him him; he'd burn it to the ground.

But then the bills came, and the landlord bumped up his rent. His fridge was looking empty and his lights started to flicker. His furniture was worn and he had the worst plumbing in the city. But it's better than being homeless, he would tell himself.

$120 per week was not enough to live comfortably, but it was enough to live.

His problems became a little easier when his promotion came around. Not only was he safe from murderous animatronics, but the raise wasn't anything to scoff at either. No matter how small it was, it helped.

Being a security guard was...different. Instead of murderous animatronics, he now had to worry about snotty, screaming kids. Remembering which child belonged to which parent, keeping the bolder ones from climbing on stage, and occasionally rescuing that same kid from the small ball pit they had added in the corner.

He glanced up at animatronics every so often and wonder how in hell they could stand this everyday. Once, the new Freddy turned his head, making eye contact. Mike's heart skip a beat. Then the bear would start singing again, and Mike remembers they're locked strictly in Daytime Mode. He'd let a smile run across his face, not a smug grin or smirk, but an actual smile. He was relaxed.

Until he spotted someone staring thoughtfully at the 'Help Wanted' sign posted in the window.

He couldn't of been older than a high schooler, or a fresh graduate. Messy hair, over-sized sweater and an innocent gleam in his eyes. He stared at the sign for a moment before a giving a small smile. With confindence, the teen stepped through the front doors, looking around. Mike grit his teeth.

This kid wouldn't last an hour at Fazbear's.

The Manager spotted him immediately. He clearly wasn't a booger-faced kid or a mother with a headache, but an opportunity. A possible future Fazbear employee. Or as Mike liked to call it: Fresh Meat.

They were stationed too far away for him to eaves drop, but it was clear what was being discussed. The teen smiled, pointing back towards the windowed sign while the Manager nodded. Yeah, definitely talking about the night watch position.

Mike wanted to intervene, really he did. He was the first to survive the night watch, and he knows first hand what kind of nightmares those six hours in the office could produce. If the animatronics didn't stuff him, the nightmares would ruin him.

There were two before this, hired just after he had received his promotion. The first one didn't last but two nights, and the second one was still 'missing'. As far as the families knew, the first had suffered a heart attack late that second night, and the other ran away to avoid debt.

But the newly placed name tags hidden in Mike's locker tell a different story.

He didn't want to continue his collection.

There was a small tug on his sleeve, breaking him from his thoughts. A little boy, with pizza still stuck to the edges of his mouth, whined something about using the bathroom. The security guard's face remained stoic while he pointed off in the other direction. The brat ran off screaming. He rolled his eyes. Now was not the time to question parenting tatics, he had a disaster to prevent after all.

Keeping his eye on the kid, he swiveled around back to face the front. He felt someone bump into his side, stumbling back with a small 'oaf'. Mike took a step back, ready to apologize before freezing.

"H-Hi, um. I'm Jeremy. I'm supposed to be the night watch."

Fuck.

"The, uh, manager told me to come talk to you." He spoke, his eyes darting from the the floor back up to the older man. "He said, that um, y-you had experience in that posi-"

"Get lost"

'Jeremy' cut short, blinking at the command. "W-what? Why?" He asked. Mike snarled. "We don't need help, so beat it." The teen met Mike's glare with wide eyes. "B-but I've already been hired! The manager-"

"The manager's a fucking cheapsake" Not to mention he hides murders, but he didn't need to know that yet. "The hours are shit and the pay is even shittier." Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw a few parents cover their kids ears, glaring at him in disapproval and ushering their children away. Might have been a bit too loud there.

"Listen, I-" Turning back to the teen, Mike noticed how fidgety he was. "I really need this job...Y-you won't even see me after today." The security guard bit his lip. That's what I'm afraid of.

"Do your parent's know about this?" Mike asked harshly, rubbing his temples. A headache was just around the corner, he was sure of it.

Jeremy stiffened at the question,and for a moment Mike thought he touched a nerve there. Then half a second passed and he smiled. "Yes, they do." Mike raised a brow. Yeah, he wasn't buying it. "If you need spending money badly, work at McDonald, punk."

"Please, I just-"

"I said fuck off. Your not wanted here. You'd probably fuck up anyway." I'm trying to help you.

The look that washed over Jeremy's face was a even mixture of hurt and desperation. Mike swallowed. He hated when this happened. He always felt like an asshole, the king of douchbaggerey.

But it was necessary.

Jeremy looked down at the floor. Looking past him, Mike glanced at the clock.His shift would be over soon. Meaning he didn't have much longer to run Jeremy off the lot.

"Look," He began, taking on a much softer tone. "You really don't want to work here-"

He cut short when something landed on his shoulder. Startled, Mike glanced down at the aged hand before looking up to see it's owner. The manager gave a crooked smile.

"Almost quittin' time. You show Jeremy here how to do his job yet?" His smile faulted ever so slightly. "Or are we just going to throw him to the wolves?" He gave a throaty chuckle.

Normally, comments like that mean nothing. But this was Fazbear's, and Mike knew immediately what the manager meant. His eyes flicked to Jeremy. Still upset looking, but so far unaware of the danger. Mike didn't have much longer.

"No, not yet." he answered with a dim expression. "Are you sure we should start him off right away? A full day would-" A child's whine broke through his sentence and the three turned to look at the entrance.

A bunch of families piling up, ready to leave. Impatient parents and wailing kids waiting at the empty cash register. The manager groaned. "Look, I have to go handle that." He gestured towards the crowd. "We can't afford to go another night without a watchman. He's starting tonight, Mikey" And with that, he was off, patting Jeremy encouragingly on the back.

The security guard missed how the younger male winced at the contact, instead caught himself burning holes into the back of the manager's head. A good actor he was, pretending to be a supporting boss, when really he might as well of been an executioner.

"M-Mikey"

Distracted, Mike looked down at the shorter male. "How do you know my name?" Jeremy blinked. "That's what the Manager called you-" Mike cut him off, pointing to his own nametag. "It's Schmidt, Mr.Schmidt. Understand? ." He paused, realizing how aggressive he was sounded. And that his name tag didn't even have his last name on it.

Jeremy nodded sheepishly, hands curled up in the sleeves of his sweater. For a split second, he looked like he was about to bawl in tears. But only for a moment, then it was gone, replaced by something new.

"Listen, Mr.Schmidt" Strange, even when his voice cracked, he sounded pretty confident. "I-I know I seem like a irresponsible kid, and that I'll goof off but..." He trailed off. "I really need this job."

Mike wanted to puke.

No, not because the determination of this kid was oh-so-sickening. But because for a half a moment, an image of Jeremy's limp body laying in the shell of a suit, stashed away in the backroom for him to find the next morning appeared in his head. Now that was truly sickening.

Before he could open his mouth to retort, his watch beeped. It was 10PM.

His shift was over. Fazbear's was closing, and with it any chance of Jeremy escaping. Even if by 'escape' meant Mike running him out of the building.

A moment of silence, broken by the sound of jingling keys and a register closing. Mike barley jumped out of his thoughts to catch an incoming projectile: Keys. "I gotta get home to the wife" The manager yelled from across the room. Jeremy glanced around, and Mike followed his gaze. How did the room empty so quickly?

"Lock up for me, alright?" He pulled out a cigarette. "Alright, you boys have a good night now" He reached for the glass door and disappeared into the night. Somewhere in the quiet, Mike heard a car start and pull out of the parking lot.

A wave of defeat washed over him as he turned back to Jeremy, who looked up at him expectantly. He had failed, and now this innocent kid had to spend a night at Freddy's.

And he had less than two hours to teach him how to survive.

Hey, there's that headache he was expecting.

Mike groaned, clutching his head and gritting his teeth. Jeremy, feeling a little awkward just standing there, scanned the room. The stage still had the animatonics on, but their instruments were put away and they stood still in a happy pose. Didn't the manager mention that they moved at night?

Suddenly, Jeremy was walking. Ok, more like being dragged. By whom? Well, by none other than the same man who had tried to get him to leave for the past hour or so.

He glanced down at the hand around his wrist. It was bandaged, and a quick look confirmed that the other was as well. What did he do? Cut his hands slicing the pizza?

Distracted by the bandages, he missed how three pairs of eyes followed their every movement. "M-Mr-Schmidt, where are we going?"

The lace of fear in his voice only made Mike want to walk faster. "We're getting you ready." He answered, coming up to a steel door, 'employee's only' sign in red nailed on it. Probably the only door in the building. Letting go of Jeremy's wrist, he flipped thought the keys, unlocking the door, ushered the younger male inside and shutting it firmly behind him.

10:20

Jeremy stuttered at the aggressive action. He watched as the older man gave an irritated sigh before rushing to the other side of the room. Looking around, the room was relatively small, with a few lockers on the walls. Mike opened up one of them, which happen to be entirely clothes and fumbled through them.

He snarled in irritation, pausing for a moment. Jeremy blinked as the man observed him closely, scanning him up and down until he was satisfied. The teen fidgeted nervously and Mike returned to his searching. "What are y-you doing?" Jeremy asked.

The security only mumbled something his breath, barely audible. Jeremy tilted his head, confused. Something about a...mask?

A blue button-up shirt flew into Jeremy's face, followed by a pair of black slacks. "I guessed your size, we'll worry about it tomorrow." Mike pointed towards an another door. "Get dressed. Now."

Jeremy didn't need to be told twice. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he undressed quickly. The tone in Mr.Schmidt's voice sounded urgent, like they were on a time limit or something.

Mike waited for what seemed an hour before Jeremy stepped out of the stall. The slacks fit, surprisingly. But the shirt was maybe a size big, draping slighlty over his body much like his discarded sweater had. His sneaker's wearn't what the dress code required either, but for tonight, he was an exception.

Mike nodded. His selection wasn't too far off, he'd give himself credit for that. "Here" He held out a what looked like a strap on Freddy mask. Jeremy took it, measuring it in his hands. It was big enough to cover his entire face, and light enough where he could set it on top of his head should he need to.

"What did you guys talk about earlier?" Mike asked, opening what Jeremy assumed to be his own locker. Curiosity got the best of him, and peered from a distance over the man's shoulder. Typical stuff: clothes, a pair of shoes, a bag, a wadded up newspaper and...nametags?

Mike pulled the tablet from underneath his sweatshirt. He checked the charge. Good enough. He turned around, holding it up for Jeremy to see. "Know how to use one of these?" He received a quick nod. "Good" He held it out for him.

Jeremy took it with caution. The tablet felt heavy in his hands, and he wasn't sure wether it was because the technology was so outdated, or if it was his own nervousness getting to him.

"You didn't answer my question"

He broke from his thoughts. "We just-" He paused to think for a moment. "I-I asked him about the position, and he hired me on the spot" Mike rolled his eyes. Of course he would. "Ok, did he tell you anything about what it was about?" He questioned, looking down at his watch.

10:40

"Y-yeah, he said that the animatronics don't have a proper night mode or something, so they, um, think in the wrong room when i-its quiet and they-"

"Look for the room with people in it, yeah. Anything else?"

Jeremy shrugged, and Mike made note to file a complaint for a new manager the next morning.

Sighing, he pulled a flashlight out a nearby desk. "This has only so much power for the entire night, your going to have to make it last." The teen raised a brow. "Why?" He was shushed. "Good question. Follow me."

He was out the door before Jeremy could react, whom quickly scampered after. As they passed through the rooms,lights flickered off behind them. Somewhere in the dark, Jeremy could of sworn he heard a radio.

"Mr. Schmidt, I have a question-"

"What?"

"...Why are you so against me working here?" The question lingered in the air before Mike took a deep breath. "You're going to think I'm insane." Might be a little too late for that, buddy.

They came into what Jeremy assumed was the office. Nothing special. A desk with some clutter on it, a bookshelf next to that, and a few folding chairs sat against the walls. There were also two vents on either side of the room with button above them. Wonder what they did...

"I thought you said you wouldn't goof off."

Retracting his hand from the switch with lighting speed, Jeremy waved an apology. "S-sorry." He shrank under the weight of the older man's glare. MIke turned away. "Don't sweat it." He opened two chairs up, sitting them next to each other.

Mike sat down and looked at Jeremy expectantly. The new night watch blinked. "Explanation time?"

The corners of Mike's mouth twitched. "Yeah, explanation time." He chuckled.

Jeremy sat down. The chair was comfy enough, though he wondered if he would feel otherwise after six hours in it. "Ok, you have twelve cameras to watch, and around 11 or so animatronics to watch-"

"E-eleven?!" Jeremy stuttered. "I thought there were less than that..." Mike shook his head. Oh, how he wished there were less. He wouldn't of minded if the old animatronics were scrapped completely. "The company believe in recycling, there's some old robots that they use for spare parts."

Jeremy only got more confused. "But if they're scrapped, then why do they roam-"

"Fuck, I don't know, kid." His co-worker snapped. "All I know is that you have to keep every single one of them away from you, got it?"

Still a little shaken from being interrupted so harshly, the teen tilted his head. "Why's that?"

Fuck, this kid knew absolutely nothing, did he? Mike rubbed his tired eyes. He really wanted to go home early tonight. Skip dinner and shower, just hop into bed and get a good night's rest for once. Not like he couldn't stay awake, just that he was a lot less tolerable when he was exhausted.

"Ready for the insane part?" He asked, silence his answer, as he expected. "They're going to try and kill you"

11:00

He waited for the realization, for the panic to seep in and for the newbie to start freaking out. Not the first time it had happened, and that was with a full grown man, not a little dweeb this this.

But instead, Jeremy giggled. "Hehe...that's uh, pretty funny"

Nervous laughter mixed with actual amusement. Did this kid think he was fucking around?

Mike was about to blast some snarky remark, but glanced down at his watch instead. Past eleven. He grit his teeth. A bad habit, but he wasn't worried about it at the moment.

Jeremy was in for a hell of a night after he left.

The security guard glanced at the phone sitting innocently on the desk, and thought back to his first week at Freddy's.

He didn't have anyone holding his hand, walking him through step by step. No, he was thrown in the pit, with nothing but prerecorded messages to shine some light on things. But the things those lights revealed, he'd wish he had never saw.

The only way this kid was going to learn how to survive is if he learned on his own, just like he had.

Fuck this. He was just too tired.

Standing up, he walked over to the desk, punching a few buttons. "This...guy that used to work here left some prerecorded messages on this thing, should tell you everthing you need to know."

"...your going home, Mr.Schmidt?"

Mike sighed, sparing a sad glance back to Jeremy. Maybe he if had been a complete douchbag earlier, he would of quit. Maybe, if only he had tried harder.

"Yeah" He ran a tired hand over his hand, under his hat. Scar marks brushed against his palm and restrained the urge to scratch them. Another bad habit. "Just...rememeber these rules, ok?"

"O-ok?-"

"Don't leave the office." He folded his chair and sat it against the wall in it's place. If one of them get in here, wear the mask until it leaves." Lazily, he loosened his tie. "Conserve your flashlight battery, and for the love of fuck," Mike froze, authority heavy in his voice. "Don't let fuckboy in here."

Jeremy sat still, doing his best to soak in the information quickly. "T-the, um, w-what boy?" He questioned, unsure to whom exactly the security guard was referring to. He was given a dreadful look. "Balloon kid"

Mike pressed, or really, slammed the play button.

"Hello? Hello hello! Uh, hello and welcome to your new summer job at the new and improved Freddy Fazbear's Pizza! Uh, I'm here to talk you through some of the things you can expect to see during your first week here and to help you get started down this new and exciting career path..."

"Well," Mike checked his watch. 11:15. "Good luck kid, your really going to need it."

Jeremy gave a small smile. "Uh, t-thank you, Mr. Schmidt! G-good night!" He waved as the security walked down the hall, the last of the lights flickering off as he disappeared.

Jeremy's smile vanished. He was completely and utterly alone.

He fiddled with the tablet a little, switching from camera to camera until he came upon a screen with an extra button. "Music box?" He pondered to himself. Why did the tablet access to a remote controlled music box? It musn't have been important if Mike forgot to mention it.