Jeremy screamed as a long winding cord whipped across his back, gliding down his shoulder blade to his waist. He felt his shirt dampen with blood as the wound stretched, sending him to his knees. With his hands outstretched in front of him, green eyes shut tightly as pain shot through his spine. He doubled over, the wire leaving long, deep gashes deep in his flesh.

A sensation bolts trails from his upper back and down his arms, tingling at his wrist. But his mind is too overwhelmed to notice.

A shadow suddenly appeared, hovering over him as he withered. There was a yell, someone calling his name, something being smashed and the sound of metal on metal. Most likely Mangle being forcibly stuffed into the vents, giving one last sputter of screech of static as she crawled away.

Somewhere in the chaos, the bell chimes 6AM.

"Fucking hell...." Mike's hands reached out to steady the teen, only to retract as the night watch gave pained yelp. He stands over him for a moment, unsure what to do. Jeremy's at his feet, aware the guard was standing protectively over him, but in to much agony to care. There's a winding sensation of knives digging into his skin as he whimpers.

"M-Mike...." He's shaking. There's blood staining his name tag. "Mangle-"

He doesn't finish his sentence, a lump forming in his throat. A tear gathers at his eye as he turns to the side and spits, blood swirling in his saliva. The sight of the liquid makes Mike's own blood boil.

He runs a hand under his cap, accessing the situation. He had to stay calm; not panicking, but calm. Right now, there's no telling to how bad Jeremy's actually injured, but if the guard doesn't act quickly, there wouldn't be a debate on whether it was a just a scratch, or a life or death countdown.

His gaze follows the trail of red seeping through the teen's shirt, pooling onto the floor. They needed to move. Now.

Jeremy whimpers something incoherent as he's lifted, biting his lip as his knees wobble. "Wha...W-what's going on...?"

"Locker room" His answer is quick and blunt, but he can sense the fear in Mike's tone. "Shit....How bad are you?" The older man swings Jeremy's around around his neck, leading him a few steps forward. "And don't lie to me"

The opened mouth Jeremy prepares shuts, looking down at the ground. He wheezes as they turn the corner, pulling himself closer to Mike for support. "I-I'm not dying..." He answers, "It just....hurts"

Mike swallows guilt down to his stomach as he steadies the teen into the locker room, slamming the door behind him with his foot. There's a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting faint shadows in the dim room. The guard curses under his breath as he eases Jeremy to the nearest bench, gently setting him down.

He gives his bloodied back another glance before rushing over to the employee's trunk. He flips it open, sneering as he pushed uniforms and mask away from each other. "Motherfucker...."

"Mike..."

"Just a second"

He picks out the first-kit from among the mess, giving a sigh of relief. Shutting the trunk shut, he bolts back over to Jeremy. The nightwatch has his eyes closed and his arms hanging down in front of him, sitting in a painfully slopped position. Mike grime at the realization that he's going to have to sit straight to treat his wounds.

Jeremy peeks open one half lidded eye at the sound of the first-aid opening. "I'm not dying"

"Quiet"

Mike quickly picks out the essentials: a small bottle of alcohol, medicated pads and two rolls of gauze, hopefully enough to cover the torso fully. He sets them to the side as he cleans his hands in shaky, spastic movements.

Jeremy's staring at him with a glossed over gaze. "Mike...calm down, I'm going to be fine-"

"I thought I told you not to fucking lie to me" The guard snaps, eyeing the red-stained fabric. "You don't look fine to me"

Reflexively, the nightwatch straightens to deliver his retort, but ends up giving soft cry as a bolt of pain shoots through his back. He bites his lip, holding it in. Unfortunately, Mike can see the hurt in his face plain as day. "That's what I thought"

Jeremy just sighs, keeping still to lessen the chances of triggering the wound again. He can feel his blood clot the gashes, but it's still bleeding a considerable amount. Crimson drips to stain the bench as he tries to think of a way to explain the mess to management. It was much too early in the morning for Fazbear's to open up yet, meaning no customers. But there's no telling when another employee walks through those glass doors.

Mike swallows, looking the nightwatch up and down. "You're going to have to sit up straight and take off your shirt. It's ruined anyway"

The teen groans, taking a deep breath before straightening. Mike inwardly winces as he watched, Jeremy whimpering as he stretched. It was simple action, but it looked to be incredibly painful. He allows him a moment to recover, a shaky breathing as the nightwatch collected himself. After a minute, green eyes turn to blue and nod.

"I-I'm not as bad you think" He assures, "It h-hurts, yeah...but I'm going to be fine-"

"You look like you got run over with a lawnmower"

Jeremy frowns. "That's not true"

Mike thins his lips, staring him down. "You don't know that"

"Neither do you"

The security guard rolls his eyes, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "Let's find out then," Moving to the front of the nightwatch, he gently picks at the teen's shirt collar. "Off"

An uncomfortable noise sounds from Jeremy, but he complies. Mike waits patiently as the he rolls his shoulder blades, testing the boundaries. He's about to ask what's taking so long when Jeremy freezes, his limbs going slack and look of horror slowly coming to his face.

The guard raises a brow, "...What now?"

Green eyes look to him in shock, "I can't move my arms"

"...What do you mean you can't move your ar-?"

"It means I can't feel them, Mike!" Jeremy bursts, a rising panic in his tone. "I-I don't know why...I mean, I can f-feel my legs and m-my head and e-everything else but I just...just..." He trail off, lost for words and sensation. "...I'm numb"

Mike blinks, gaze darting from the nightwatches limbs to his feared expression. "Numb?" He repeats, "Why would your arms be numb? Only your back is..."

Realization hits him like a brick, swinging his gaze to a trail of red flowing from behind Jeremy's neck. Just how deep did Mangle's cords dig? The only area affected was his back and shoulders, so if Jeremy really lost feeling, she damaged something important.

Which would explain why Jeremy was calmer than him. He wasn't feeling the pain. He wasn't feeling at all.

"Fuck..." Mike runs a hand down his face, groaning. The tie around his neck is getting annoyingly tight, so he pulls it loose and tosses it. A moment passes before he takes the end of his cap and tosses it to the side as well, a palm running over his head's bandages in frustration. Which reminded him: regardless of the numbing, Jeremy's still bleeding.

"Oh god..." The brunette's close to tears now, "Am I......Am I paralyzed?"

Biting his lip, Mike searches for a response. "Look, um...it's probably temporary, Jere. Same shit happened to me when I was working the nightshift. Couldn't feel my left leg for days, heh..." He forces a smile, desperately trying to lighten the tension. "But I'm alright now! So, uh...you will be too..." Hopefully.

Luckily, his method works. Jeremy sniffs, blinking the panic away. "Are you sure? I'll be ok?"

Mike nods, "Yeah, but I'm still taking you to get it checked out after we stop the bleeding." The sentence is a second passed his mouth before a sneer runs over it, reminding him of his original goal. Jeremy looks down at himself, unsure. If he could move, most likely he'd be in a fit of tremors by now.

They share a moment of silence before Mike sighs, reaching out. The nightwatch hitches in surprise. Roughed, but gentle hands unpin the nametag from his shirt, setting the bloodied plastic on the bench. Mike's already working on the first few shirt buttons of his shirt before acknowledging the nightwatch's confusion.

"Hold still" He mummers, "I don't want to prick you"

He spots Jeremy's face grow faint pink. It was relieving to see, actually. His skin had paled from blood loss and shock, but the blush was welcomed sign of healthy life. Honestly, Mike liked him better that color. It was pleasing to look at.

The blood stained uniform, however, wasn't. Bandaged hands work smoothly, taking the open shirt and sliding it off Jeremy's shoulders. Mike pauses as the fabric skins over an open wound, earning a hiss from the nightwatch. He mutters an apology as he works each hand through the sleeves. The ruined shirt is tossed to the side. He'll throw it away later.

The swollen, oozing gashes are enough to make Mike grind his teeth. He wasn't one to get squeamish around gore, but there's no denying the rage he feels as his gaze trails over the marks. Jeremy's still clad in a white t-shirt, but it was stained enough to see the outline of each wound.

Said teen has his eyes glued to the floor, embarrassed. "This is weird"

"It's necessary, Jere" Mike responds, wiping his hands on his slacks, "Even if you could move your arms, there's no way you'd be able to reach your back without hurting yourself."

Jeremy looks up to retort, but ends up keeping his mouth shut. Whether he liked it or not, Mike had a valid point.

He tries not to fidget as Mike's hands grab the bottom ends of his t-shirt. "T-this is embarrassing..." The nightwatch stammers, "I feel helpless"

The older man pauses, still gripping Jeremy's shirt. "Still not as bad as I was, you know?" He chuckles, "When I lost feeling in my leg last year, doctors stuck me in some weird plastic cast. Wasn't comfortable as shit, itchy too. I was able to move it after about a day or so, but they still bitched at me to keep it on. Something to do with insurance"

He feels a little proud of himself when he spots the corners of Jeremy's mouth twitch upwards. "T-that doesn't sound that bad" He muses, "How long did you have the cast on?"

The memory brings a frown to Mike's face. "Longer than I should have. It wasn't even the right size anyway. Tripped me up a lot," He curls his fingers around the shirt's fabric. "Got hurt once real bad once because of it, ironically."

Jeremy raises a brow. "H-how? I mean, you can always pick yourself up after you trip, right?" Mike shakes his head, "Not that time" He's given a questioning look.

"Escalators"

A tiny giggle escapes from Jeremy, bringing a smile to Mike's face. "Ok, enough stalling" He mummers, catching the nightwatch's attention. "Watch your head"

He raises Jeremy's shirt, bunching it up in his fist to bring it to the brunette's neck. He's slow, careful not to brush against the clotting marks trailing from the shoulders. He's successful this time, pulling the shirt over his head and down his arms. It's tossed to the side to lay with the other one.

He quietly notes how smoothly framed the nightwatch is. "Are you alright enough to maybe twist around?" Mike asked, taking a rag and dousing it in alcohol. He misses a green eyed glare as he squeezes it damp. "I-if I can't move my arms, what makes you think I can t-turn like that?" Jeremy pouts, "S-silly.."

"Geeze, you don't have to get snarky with me, Jere" Mike smirks, setting the bottle down. "That's supposed to be my thing"

Jeremy sticks out his tongue, resisting a smile. It certainly wasn't a good thing the teen's nerves were numbed, but the behavior between them was playfully light, despite the circumstances. "I'm better at it"

Mike sticks out his own tongue. "You're a twat"

"And y-you're a bully"

"Only to you"

Jeremy gives a soft laugh, "Wow, I feel so special"

"You should"

Mike picks up the first-aid, setting it back down on the other side of the nightwatch before rotating around him. Naturally, Jeremy swiveled his neck to follow the movement, only to halt and hiss at the sudden sting shooting from his shoulder to the base of his skull. Was he only numb if he stayed still? He certainly hoped not; he was dormant now, but he was going to have to get up and move later.

The hiss did not go unnoticed. "Try not to move," Mike orders, "Don't push yourself or anything. Your nerves are severed, but their still alive" There's a firmness in his tone unfamiliar to Jeremy. The teen freezes, listening to the guard move behind him. "Y-you seem to know a lot about that"

"Yep, learned all about it last year. Dipshit doctors never shut up about it."

"Doctors are good people, you know" Jeremy adds, "You should l-listen to them when they tell you stuff like that. They know what they're t-talking about"

Mike rummages through the first aid a little more. "I don't need them, I already have a nurse"

"A-a nurse?"

"Yeah, my own personal one"

Jeremy want to ask whom exactly the security guard was referring to, but something told him he already knew the answer. Mike steps over the bench, sitting behind the teen. He swings his legs out so the nightwatch is centered with him, between his knees. This way, he can clearly see where each gash began and ended, and just how severe they were. Giving them a good look over, he's relieved to determine it really wasn't as bad as he thought. Not peachy either, but not completely mangled. This calmed his nerves, just a bit though.

Jeremy sees Mike's legs to the sides of him and sighs. "H-how do I look?"

There a moment of quiet before he gets an answer, "The bleeding stopped in it's own, but you could still get infected if we don't clean you up" The guard winds the rag around his fingers. It will be easier to press down, now. "Still looked fucked up though"

Jeremy rolls his eyes. "Your always so p-positive, Mike"

"Shush"

He pours another spoonful worth of medication in the rag before holding it up, ready to begin. He hesitates, however, roaming over the swollen skin. It's red and velveteen textured, probably meaning it was highly sensitive to everything at the moment. Jeremy might not feel it now, but it would definitely come back to bite him later. There was no winning from this.

Mike glances down at the rag, regretting how sore the nightwatch is going to be soon. "Numbing or not, this is going to hurt like hell"

The brunette takes a deep breath, "I know"

"...You gonna be ok?"

"Y-yeah...I'll be fine"

Despite the bravery in his voice, he highly doubts that. "Alright..." Mike bites his lip, straightens his posture, and presses down.

A sharp, pained inhale comes from the nightwatch, hissing as sensation rushes back to his senses. The once dormant skin was burning now, like needles were seeping in and prodding his pores. Instinctively, he leans away from the security guard, only for a second arm to wrap around his waist, careful of the damaged flesh, "Don't move. It'll hurt more"

Jeremy gives no acknowledgment to the order, swallowing a cry down and squeezing his eyes shut. The rag stops moving as Mike patiently waits for him to adjust, clicking his tongue distinctively. Then, he continues to wipe away the blood away, trying to ignore how the teen shuddered under the touch. It had to be done; if they had waited any longer, the blood would have dried and would have to be scrubbed out. It would have been absolutely agonizing; Mike knows from experience.

Neither of them speak for the next few minutes, the guard quietly cleaning the wound as gently as he can muster. His other arm is still gripping Jeremy's waist in place, but the brunette doesn't make any move to remove it. Mike figures either he doesn't mind, or he's too preoccupied with the pain to care. In truth, it was the only comfort Jeremy had at the moment.

Mike's finishing up the last gash when he hears a giggle. Surprised, he leans forward and cranes his neck to see Jeremy's face, raising a brow at the soft smile he dawned, "What's so funny?"

Caught, the teen tried to scrunch the smile away. He failed. "N-nothing..."

The flush color to his cheeks tell a different answer, "Yeah, right" The older man gives a mischievous grin, his grip tightening on Jeremy's sides, "You look pretty ticklish right now..."

The look of terror that flashed across his face was enough to make Mike snort. "I-I'm not ticklish!" Jeremy defends, "Don't you dare..."

He pales as the guard gives a toothy grin, playfully giving the brunette a light pinch. "Whatever. I'll just wait until you heal," Mike snickers, "You'll never see me coming. You'll be minding your own business one day and bam, I descend from the shadows and get ya, tickle you to death"

Jeremy pales. "T-that's weird, Mike...and kinda c-creepy" He retorts, failing to hide the smile running across his mouth. "That's not even w-what I was laughing about"

The olderman tilted his head, curious, "Oh, really?" He muses, "What is it, then?"

"...I couldn't stop imagining you f-falling down an e-escalator..."

Mike pouts, earning a hushed giggle from the teen. Figures that the pained and injured dweeb is having a giggle fest imagining his co-worker and best friend tumbling down a mall escalator, the same person who's oh-so-nicely taking care of him for the time being.

For some reason, a smile of rival comparison finds its way to Mike's mouth. "I was fucking graceful, mind you" He adds, "Majestic as fuck. Guy behind me never saw me coming"

Jeremy laughs so hard he's afraid his wound was going to open again. "Oh my gosh, y-you hit someone?" He exclaims, ignoring the slight sting coming from his skin. "D-did you apologize?"

Mike shakes his head. "Nah, he took a swing at me. I was going to apologize, really Jere, but the fucker didn't wanna hear it." He grins. "Kicked me right in the knee. Hurt like a bitch, but I could still use my fist. Gave him a black eye with one hit. You don't fuck with the likes of me, ya know?"

He holds his head high, proud of the memory. On the other hand, Jeremy's torn between disapproval and amusement. "Y-you're such a meanie, Mike" He smiles, "Y-you can't just beat people up all the time. One day s-someone's going to press charges on you"

The older man shrugs, reaching for the gauze. "Nah, I was totally justified. It was all the cast's fault anyway." The nightwatch rolls his eyes as Mike untapes the roll, giving a little huff. "Right, the cast..." He thinks for a moment, "...a-am I going to need a cast?"

The question causes Mike to pause, icy blue eyes detailing the nightwatch's back. "Well, technically you'd need two. But I think you'll be fine. They're shit to manage anyway"

Jeremy blinks. "How would you know? A-about the marks, I mean"

Mike bites his lip, giving a heavy sigh as he set the unrolled gauze on the bench. For a moment, his right hand comes up and runs over his head, the skin of his palm running over the bandaged textures. He lets it linger there for a moment before dropping it. "...Hold still. This might hurt"

Jeremy's about to ask what the guard means exactly when he thickly swallows, feeling two thumbs press down and trace over each line in his skin. Mike is careful, running over the swollen skin in tiny circles, giving a light massage. He stayed mindful of certain pin-points as he run's down to the lower back, at the base of a particular nasty gash.

Jeremy can't move. He's not sure if he even wants to. "...C-could you at least tell me if they'll leave scars?"