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Stepping Out Part 3: It Never Hurts to Take a Risk or Two

“...There's a flashlight in the desk.”

Mike's eyes opened wide at those words. Did this mean...?

“In the desk?” He repeated with a mix of hope and disbelief.

“That's what I said,” Bonnie responded, slightly annoyed. “In the desk. Left side, top drawer. It's dark out there, and you can't see in the dark like we can, so you'll need it.”

Without hesitation Mike slid his chair over to the desk and yanked a drawer open. Sure enough, a long black flashlight was resting inside, and he scooped it up quickly. Turning it off and on a couple times to test it, Mike turned back to Bonnie. “Hey, you really sure you want me out there with you guys? I mean, I don't really know you guys that well, so-”

“Stop,” Bonnie snapped, and Mike immediately fell silent. “You said you wanted this, not me. I'm not gonna stand here and let you try to pawn this off onto me just because you're too much of a chicken to make the choice yourself. I'm better than that.” Bonnie stopped upon the sight of Mike's hurt face, then sighed and continued in a calmer voice. “Look, I want you out there, I do. And I know that the others would say the same thing if they were here right now. Staying in here because you're afraid to take the risk is wrong, Mike. To yourself and to us. So you can either hide in here for the rest of the night, or you can stand up, head out those doors, and for the last... three hours of the night, I think-”

“Yeah, it's about three, now,” Mike chimed in.

“-You can hang with us. I don't guarantee you'll have fun, or that you'll want to do it again another day, but that's the chance you'd be taking.” Bonnie folded his arms across his chest. “What's it gonna be?”

Mike pondered what Bonnie had just told him. It was a little harsh, no doubt about it, but it wasn't exactly wrong. The truth was that now that the opportunity was there, Mike seriously was starting to doubt the choice he'd made. He wasn't worried about dying anymore, Bonnie'd pretty much crushed that, but he still didn't know what he'd do with the animatronics. He didn't know what they liked to do or what kind of people they were. What if they didn't get along with him? He didn't want to invest time in failed friendships, he'd done plenty of that in college.

And yet, a part of Mike wanted to kick himself for thinking like that. In truth, he had always been a little pessimistic, always assuming the worst of most situations, but wouldn't this be the perfect time to shake that habit off? Even if it didn't work out, it wouldn't mean anything too bad. He and the animatronics would still be on friendly terms, and he'd still be able to leave every morning with his body and life intact. Maybe this was exactly what he needed to do.

And if that was the case, why on Earth would he do otherwise?

Mike gripped the flashlight steadily in one hand and smiled up at Bonnie. “...All right, let's go.”

Bonnie grinned right back.

------------

Mike knew that he was going to die one day. It was a fact he'd learned at a tender young age, possibly even a bit too young, although he didn't like to think about it much. In fact, during his first week at Freddy's he'd thought about death quite a lot. In Mike's defense, however, his situation certainly did nothing to distract from the concept. Ever since starting at Freddy Fazbear's, Mike largely believed that he would die in one of three ways: getting shoved into a suit, heart attack, or sleep deprivation.

What was happening now was none of the three, and in all of his twenty-something years, Mike never imagined that he'd go out this way.

Hugged to death by a giant, metal chicken. Mike could practically see his obituary flashing before his eyes, and it was not flattering.

Still, at least she wasn't trying to kill him. A silver lining, Mike decided.

While Mike was thinking about his impending death at the hands of a happy Chica, Bonnie was busy trying to pry her off of him, or at the very least get her to call the hell down. It wasn't working, at least not until...

“What's goin' on here?”

The voice was deep, with a striking Southern drawl that Mike found both enticing and remarkably out of place. Apparently both Bonnie and Chica were familiar with the voice, as they both stood stock still at the sound of it before turning all the way around to face its owner. Groaning with relief at being released from Chica's death grip, Mike bent down to grab his flashlight and brought it up, shining it into the face of the newcomer.

And his heart stopped upon seeing Freddy Fazbear standing before him. Mike could feel his legs start to give out again and his heart begin to pump faster once more. Horrible memories flashed across his eyes, memories of pure black darkness and a haunting music box song (why Freddy'd picked “March of the Toreadors” for his theme, Mike would never know). Mike remembered the horror of lying silent and still in the darkness as the song played, praying to whatever higher power was rolling the dice up there that six o'clock would roll around before the end. For a brief moment Mike feared that the bear would start his song once again, that thirty second tune that counted down the time to almost certain death.

But he didn't. Instead, he growled slightly and covered his eyes with one hand. “Boy, you eith'r put that light out or shine it somewhere else. I can't see a damn thing.”

Mike complied automatically, moving the flashlight down slightly to shine on Freddy's chest, as opposed to into his face. The animatronic bear blinked a couple of times before settling his eyes on the human before him, and Mike, not for the first time that night, feared for his life.

So he was surprised when the bear instead grinned broadly and strode toward him. “Dear God in the mornin'! 'Sthat you, Mike?” The bear laughed jovially and clapped a hand on Mike's shoulder with such force that he nearly fell over. “Never thought I'd see th' day when ya'd get outta that box!”

Mike laughed sheepishly. “Yeah, Chica was just finishing up with saying 'hi'.”

“To put it lightly,” Bonnie smirked. “Your eyes were bulging out of your head.”

“Hey, back off! I was happy!” Chica shot back. “I've been waiting for this for a loooong time, and I'm gonna enjoy it!”

“And that's fine with me, but I don't think crushing people is any way to show 'em you're happy,” Bonnie retorted with a grin.

Chica growled, but Mike was quick enough to cut in. “Hey, is Foxy around? He's the only one left.”

Chica shrugged. “He's probably still hiding out in Pirate's Cove, like always. What do you think he does in there?”

Before anyone could venture an answer, Bonnie spoke up. “I'll get him. He'll want to be here for this, I know it.” And then the rabbit left.

“A'ight then, boy,” Freddy spoke once more, looking Mike in the eye. “Ah think we're both jonesin' ta know why ya got outta that box.”

“Yeah, you should've come out a long time ago!” Chica chimed in. “We don't bite... anymore.”

Mike struggled not to look at her upon that last part. Too 'Bite of '87'-ey. “Honestly, Freddy, there's not much to say. I mean, I've been sitting in that room for six hours a night for the past two weeks, and I'll be doing it again and again for the foreseeable future.” It was a depressing truth, but Mike was a pretty recent college graduate, and he wouldn't be getting a 'real' job until he built up some work experience, so for the time being he was stuck at the pizzeria, working for money to pay off his student loan debts. “If you guys weren't gonna kill me, I probably would've done it myself.”

Freddy and Chica nodded in sympathy. They were no strangers to boredom, what with coming to life for six hours every night for as long as they could recall. At least Mike could shake things up, they weren't even supposed to leave the restaurant. But he was here now, so of course they'd accept him. They didn't know much about him, but seeing as how he kept coming back every night when most endos disappeared pretty quickly – where did they go, anyway? - but their guts said he was a good guy, and they wanted to know more.

“Well that's it, then!” Freddy laughed. “Welcome t' our li'l gang, boy!”

“That's great!” Chica cheered. “I bet Foxy'll be happy to hear that. He's wanted to see you again for a while, Mike.”

And at that moment, a familiar voice rang out.

“GANGWAAAAAAAY!!!”

“Speak o' the devil...” Freddy chuckled as an orange blur whipped past and barreled toward Mike. The young man flinched, but the newcomer simply swung his good arm around Mike's shoulders and gave him a happy, albeit toothy, smile.

“Yo-ho, Mike, me harty!” The pirate fox laughed in his tinny voice, damaged jaw flapping open and shut. “What's this I be hearin' about ye joining our ship?”

“Well, he clearly hasn't changed a bit,” Chica laughed with everyone else. “Foxy, Mike's gonna be hanging out with us now.”

“For tonight, at least,” Mike amended. “I'll see how it goes from there.”

But Foxy obviously hadn't heard a word Mike just said. “A new first mate?! Then this be a night for celebratin'!” Foxy bellowed happily, waving his hook hand in Chica's direction. “Bird wench! Two o' yer finest pizzas!”

Chica did not take well to this and gave Foxy a solid whack upside the head. But at least it fixed Foxy's jaw, Mike noted. “So, what do you guys do around here?” He asked, hoping to refocus the group's attention.

Chica was too busy fuming and Freddy was comforting her, so Bonnie answered that. “Whatever we feel like doing. Mostly we just hang around on our own. Chica bakes in the kitchen, Freddy makes sure the chairs and tables are set up right, Foxy hides out in his cove doing whatever he does in there, and I just walk around,” Bonnie said, before adding, “We don't really hang out together much, in case you were wondering.”

Mike shrugged. “That's okay. I'm a pretty resourceful guy. I'll find something to do. As long as it's not in that guard room, I'm happy doing whatever.” Mike offhandedly pushed Foxy's jaw back into place, and the fox patted him on the back in gratitude.

“Tha's good t' hear,” Freddy smiled. “C'mon, 's time we give ya a tour o' th' place.”

And with that, the four animatronics strode into the restaurant once more, with one more person – one more friend – in tow. Mike could only muse at the turn of events that led to here. Two weeks ago, he'd have rather scrapped the robots entirely than befriended them. Now?

Well, it was too soon to say, but Mike had a sneaking suspicion that, for the first time, he would enjoy his job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.