3A/N: Hey, guys! This is an...excerpt, if you will. I briefly reference The Bite of '87 in my fic The Puppet on the Wall and I decided to expound on that. After all, something so awful deserves to be more than a background reference. I don't own FNAF or anything about it. Let's get that fine print out of the way. That said, I hope you like it! Shout out to someoneanonymous123! I hope you enjoy this one too!
A/N: I decided to tack this on to the end of The Puppet on the Wall as well as have it on its own because some people might like it better that way and some because some people might want to read it separately. If you've already found it and read it, please let me know what you think. If this is your first time reading any of this, please let me know how you liked it :) Also, if it's better standing alone, let me know. Majority vote rules here
You know what sucks? Getting called into to work so often that you dream about the phone ringing.
Wait…no, that's actually the phone ringing.
I open my eyes and pick up the phone. "Ye-ehllo?"
"Jeremy?"
I flop my head over the back of the couch, clutching the phone to my chest so my boss can't hear my groan. God, I hate this guy!
"Yeah," I say.
"I need you to come in today until Mike gets here," he says.
Wow, big surprise. "Where's William?"
"He had to leave, something urgent came up," he says.
Again? If it's not his mother on her deathbed, I'm gonna kill him next time he comes in to work.
"Why not call Mike in early? He's working today anyways."
"He's already in overtime," he snaps.
Cheapscape.
"Fine, I'll be there," I tell him.
"Thanks," he hangs up.
I groan, then wail like a dying animal as my frustration builds.
"What's wrong?"
I bend my head back over the couch to look at my fiancé. She's laughing at me and trying to hide it. She was cutting vegetables at the kitchen island. I put the steaks into my special marinade and she made me take a nap. I worked a double shift yesterday, morning and afternoon, and I'm still wiped. I tried to help her cut onions but when I sliced my fingers instead, she sent me to the couch. Never knew that happened out of love and concern. Her parents are coming over this evening to make sure the house I just bought is up to standard for their princess to move into after we're married.
"I have to go to work," I tell her.
Her face falls. I hate seeing that expression, like she's about to cry. Especially when it's my fault.
"Why? We've planned this for two weeks, Jeremy!"
Oh, yeah. The crying's about to start.
"It's just for a couple of hours, I swear," I hurry to assure her. I get up and walk over to her. I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her close. "My boss is too cheap to call Mike in and pay him more overtime."
"Why can't he call Matt?" she asks plaintively.
"Because Matt'll tell him to screw off and he knows it," I tell her, propping my chin on her head. She has her hair up in one of those messy buns that's falling down the back of her head. She wouldn't be caught dead outside with the do, but I think it's adorable.
"Why didn't you?" she asks, looking at me over her shoulder.
"Because, even though I turned in my two-weeks' notice, I still need the job until then," I explain. "It's not like I said 'yes' because I like the place. When I move to the new job, the hours will be more stable and—" I kiss her ear and she shrugs me off, fighting a grin "—paid vacation days."
"But my parents aren't coming over when you start the new job," she says. "They're coming over today. You promised me that you would be here when they got here. You know how they are!"
"You mean they still don't like me," I tell her, taking the knife and finishing off the tomato slices she was trying to do so neatly. She frowns at me because she's trapped between me and counter and usually the next step is me tickling her ribs. "They'd rather you marry Dick."
She laughs, and snorts because she tries not to. That's actually the guy's name, but that's not how I meant it. Her parents couldn't believe she downgraded to a security guard that hangs out in the parking lot of the bank so he can walk her to her car after dark when she'd been with a lawyer that drove a Maserati and had a different woman in the passenger seat on any given evening. Go figure. I told her dad that, so I'm not the most popular guy in their circle.
"That's the first argument my dad ever lost," she says.
"Yep, and I still haven't gotten a trophy for that win," I tell her.
"Hope you're not holding your breath," she quips.
"Yeah, haven't you noticed how blue in the face I am?"
"You're trying to make me feel better about you leaving and it's not working," she says with a pout.
"It almost worked," I point out.
She sighs and blows her hair out of her face, where it falls again right after.
"Here, I'll fix it," I pull her out of the kitchen and into the living room. I have to say, the place is pretty posh. I can't afford a mansion like she grew up in yet, but that's a future plan. She sits in the floor and I sit on the couch and start working my fingers through her blonde hair so I can French braid it. The highlights create such a pretty contrast in the different strands. She could have modeled in New York. But then, I never would have met her there. When I finish, I massage her shoulders for a minute.
"You're almost forgiven," she tells me.
"It's only for a few hours, Isabelle," I promise her. "As soon as Mike comes in, I'm gone. I'll be back before the steaks even finish marinating."
She stands up with me and runs her fingers through my hair. The longer it gets, the lighter the brown turns and it's down to my ears because she likes it to be curly.
"At least, he won't be able to say you're too skinny this time," she grins.
"Yeah, there is that," I agree.
One of her dad's complaints about me was that I didn't have any 'substance'. I run for exercise. Runners don't get bulky. But I've been lifting weights because I intend to carry my bride over the threshold without breaking a sweat. I think I'm thirty pounds heavier than when he saw me last. Yeah, gripe about my size now, old man.
"Go, before you're late," she tells me.
I grab my uniform from my closet and kiss her goodbye. "You won't even have time to miss me."
I walk into the restaurant and have to do a fancy sidestep to avoid colliding with a bunch of kids running past the door. William left right in the middle of a birthday party? I'm already ticked off because I had to leave Isabelle, but that makes it worse. I walk to the boss' office and prop against the door. If I can go toe-to-toe with Isabelle's dad, I can go toe-to-toe with my boss for her.
"I can't stay past three," I tell him. "I have an appointment I have to keep."
He looks up at me in surprise. I think I actually startled him.
"I can call Mike in for that long," he says resentfully.
"Thanks," I say and walk to the security office. Only a week and a half and I'll never have to see this place again. I'm already hired at my new job—working for a private security firm—I'm just waiting the standard time. I have to admit though, I like the animatronics. Especially Foxy. He's my favorite. He's got more personality that the others.
About three o'clock, the place clears out and there is absolutely nobody in the building besides me, the cooks and the janitor. My boss might be here but I doubt it. I walk around the building to stretch my legs and I come to the back room that we're not really supposed to talk about. Building code issues or some crap like that. I step in and take a look around. The yellow Bonnie suit is in here. The boss better get the leaks fixed or he's gonna lose an expensive piece of equipment.
I step back outside and see Foxy watching me down the hallway.
"Hey, Foxy! How's it going?" I call to him.
Naturally, he doesn't respond. Suddenly, he hunches down like a football player. This is new. I didn't think they could move like that. I still don't think they're supposed to because it looks hard for him. Then, as the stance registers in my brain, he charges me.
Pure, raw terror takes over and my mind knows nothing outside of it. I take off in the other direction so fast that my shoes slide and squeak on the tile and I think I scream. Someone does. I can hear him coming, gaining on me. I think he takes two steps every time I take one. How do these things move that fast?! I slide around a corner and he slams into the wall trying to keep up. I don't stop. I'm prey and stopping means I die.
"Foxy, STOP!" I scream at him. I glance over my shoulder and I swear I see rage in those light up eyes.
I don't see the corner until it's almost too late and I slam my hands against the wall to bounce myself off it without losing much speed. Foxy slams into the wall again but he's closer this time, close enough that I can hear his servos whining. I can't breathe and I think my heart's going to explode. I can't get away from him! I dodge into one of the private dining halls and sprint through, jumping tables, trying to gain some distance. I don't look back to see if it worked but the sound of him gets a little fainter so it doesn't feel like he's breathing down my neck.
I suddenly see daylight. The main dining hall! I almost miss the door and I'm pretty sure I crack the frame when I hit it. I hear him coming. His footsteps are faint thunder in the empty hall and he's slowing down. He saw where I went and he's going to make sure he doesn't miss the door. The front door is right there! If I can just get there, I can get away from this animatronic that wants to kill me so badly!
I promised Isabelle I'd be home in time to help her finish dinner.
The room seems like it stretches out and the door keeps getting farther away from me. My legs feel so heavy and I feel like I'm moving so slowly, like I'm trying to run in chest deep water.
I'm almost there!
My foot lands in a puddle of spilled drink and for a moment, my momentum makes me airborne, then I crash to the floor face first. I scramble to get back up, my feet sliding on the slick floor and I can hear him coming up behind me. I choke back a sob as I get my feet under me and I take off again.
He slams into me before I take two steps.
I'm scrambling to get up again and there's ripping sensation in my right calf. My mouth opens but I don't have enough air to make a sound. I flip over and see his foot planted on my leg and my foot is turned at an odd angle to the rest of my leg. I don't even have time to react when he steps forward, grinding his foot into my shattered leg. I scream then.
He's gonna rip it off me!
He looms over me briefly and I have just enough time to look into those lit eyes and see nothing but pure hatred before he lunges forward and I'm enveloped in blackness as his mouth closes over my head.
I hear myself screaming as I feel my skull compressing under the pressure of his steel jaws and I'm hitting him, punching his fabric body with everything I've got. I feel a brief breeze press against my clothes. I thought I'd feel my skull cave in. I don't. But I hear it pop. The pressure vanishes. I don't hear anything else.
Mike, can you come in about three today?
I scowl just thinking about that phone call. As glad as I am about the overtime, the boss isn't the best at paying us what we're owed. Jeremy's the lucky one. He's getting married and getting out of here. Matt was out and the crazy kid came back.
I'm wondering if the doctor should have prescribed him some anti-psychotics or something. You'd have to be friggin' insane to come back to this place. Especially if you died here. I can't get that out of my head. All I can think is, what if I'd been late to my shift? Would he have made it?
And where did William go again? I'm sick of him ducking out of his shift. He'd better have a close family member at death's door or something.
I walk through the door and horror freezes me to the floor. Foxy has Jeremy pinned to the floor and the animatronic has his head in his mouth. Jeremy's wailing on him, screaming bloody murder. Everything goes monochrome for me as I start moving. I'm pulling my Taser from my belt. Foxy's jaws close with a sound like a busted melon, blood and brain matter spray all over the animatronic and Jeremy goes limp. Foxy stands up, and I slam my Taser into his metal mouth. Blue electricity sparkles all over him and he drops like a rock.
I fall to my knees in the gore beside Jeremy. I press my fingers to his throat, checking desperately for a pulse that isn't there. Everyone comes running. I guess they heard him screaming. The three seconds that have passed since I walked in feel like hours. I start chest compressions. His uniform is soaked with blood. The smell invades my sinuses and takes me back to the night I found Matt bleeding out in the prize room.
"Jeremy!" I yell his name. "Stay with me, Jeremy! Stay with me!" I look up at the other people in the room. "Call 911!" I scream.
I'm frantic. Terrified. What happened?! I keep doing compressions, counting in my mind, absorbed in the rhythm. I look at Foxy, expecting to see him getting up.
"Get my Taser," I tell the cook. She stares at me like I'm not speaking English. "Get my friggin' Taser! If he moves, hit him with it!"
I'm sweating and I close my eyes. The scene replays on the back of my eyelids, every horrible detail, in slow motion.
I don't know how long it takes the ambulance to get there. When the paramedics come through the doors, they practically have to shove me away. They take over and get him on a gurney.
"You've gotta save him," I hear myself say. "You've gotta—he's gonna be married…you gotta save him." I'm babbling and I can't stop.
"We'll do everything we can," one of them tells me.
I've heard those words before. Nine times out of ten, it's because the person's already dead but they don't to tell you that.
I hear the boss talking about tampering, corrupted systems, standby mode, clean-up. I finally drag my eyes away from the ambulance speeding away and look at Foxy laying on the floor, blood soaking into his fabric body. Bits of skull and brain lay on the floor and the red splatter outlines the spot where Jeremy was.
First Matt, now Jeremy. But Matt was attacked by a person not an animatronic.
I look at Foxy again. His eyes are dead but somehow, he has a mournful look on his face, as though he regrets what he did. Maybe it's just trauma on my part, but I can't help but wonder…
Is this really the result of something as simple as tampering?
