i have three thoughts: One: oh no. what the fuck is going on. Two: mike apparently just kept dodging the Aftons and everyone else getting to him for straight years by the power of 'fuck that'. Three: no wonder he knew how to reconnect foxy's head in Pirate Trouble. he was takin' notes over here.
Anonymous
LOL
Can’t tell if Mike is super lucky or really unlucky. Or maybe he’s getting bonus luck to make up for the major unlucky moment?
First day at the new temporary job, as the hairs on Mike’s neck stood abruptly once he actually stepped into the building and he long ago learned to pay attention to those weird tells or risk getting stuffed, and he already wanted to just spin on his heel and walk out. The place was decently staffed so he wasn’t by himself and no one seemed interested in small talk which saved him from sticking his foot in his mouth. No, the issue was the number of endoskeleton parts being packed into boxes along with the familiar outer coverings of Freddy Fazfuck and his dipshit friends.
Right, the guy said ‘animatronic supplier’, right? Mike checked the note he had scribbled down after the meeting with the job counselor some days back to remind himself why he was stressed more than usual to refresh the memory, then looked up at the wall of the loading dock.
Afton Robotics, LLC.
“Yeah, I ain’t rememberin’ that,” Mike grumbled to himself, pressing on despite the urge to walk away and find another job. Yard work, maybe, or pushing buttons for people on elevators.
“This will be your uniform for the logistics department. This is your Hand Unit. You clock in with that and receive instructions through it.” the manager told him briskly and gestured to the other workers, “Your job is simple enough. Just like the others here, you unload materials from incoming trucks and load completed orders into the outgoing trucks.”
“I clock in with the toy thing?” Mike asked dubiously, holding up the orange and red object in his hand. It felt like it was made of plastic, heavy and expensive but breakable in his grip.
“Yes, just put your name in and your start time. Keep it on you at all times,” the manager told him and pulled a holster for the unit out of the box with Mike’s uniform, “It helps keep employees from getting.. lost.”
Red flag.
“Lost.” Mike repeated flatly, eyes narrowing a little at the holster before flicking over to the manager’s expressionless face.
“Employees who wander into restricted areas tend to get lost. This helps us find them and get them where they belong,” he explained neutrally.
More red flags.
“Right.” Mike glanced around, searching out the units on the other workers. Yep, each of them wore holsters with orange and red handles sticking out of them. Everything was put back into the box and Mike picked it up as the manager pointed out where the employee changing rooms were so he could put on the uniform.
First day at the new temporary job, as the hairs on Mike’s neck stood abruptly once he actually stepped into the building and he long ago learned to pay attention to those weird tells or risk getting stuffed, and he already wanted to just spin on his heel and walk out. The place was decently staffed so he wasn’t by himself and no one seemed interested in small talk which saved him from sticking his foot in his mouth. No, the issue was the number of endoskeleton parts being packed into boxes along with the familiar outer coverings of Freddy Fazfuck and his dipshit friends.
Right, the guy said ‘animatronic supplier’, right? Mike checked the note he had scribbled down after the meeting with the job counselor some days back to remind himself why he was stressed more than usual to refresh the memory, then looked up at the wall of the loading dock.
Afton Robotics, LLC.
“Yeah, I ain’t rememberin’ that,” Mike grumbled to himself, pressing on despite the urge to walk away and find another job. Yard work, maybe, or pushing buttons for people on elevators.
“Follow order? Wrong order,” Mike said hollowly, expression twisting as his hands rose to his head shakily. “Follow order.. n-no. O-other or-der!”
What was happening? Jeremy hurried to get closer. Maybe he could get Mike back into the office to calm him down and break him out of whatever the Marionette did to him. “Mr. Schmidt! Come on, let’s get somewhere safe!”
A blur of motion was the only warning he got, and he was too slow to process it. His face suddenly felt smashed, the world spinning crazily as he stumbled backwards, one hand flying up to his face. Something warm, liquid, was dripping from his nose and mouth. Why? Tears pricked at his eyes. What did he do wrong?! He backpedaled away from Mike and pressed his back to the opposite wall, shaking as the day guard staggered in place, one hand gripping his head and the other held up defensively after lashing out. His bandages were stained red from the impact.
“R-remove.. Threats,” Mike mumbled before shaking his head, teeth clenched, “N-No! Not h-him!”
“Mr. Schmidt, keep fighting it!” Jeremy cried out, wincing at the sharp pain spreading from his nose and eye. How much damage did that strike do to him? “It’s me!”
Had that been the wrong thing to say? Mike’s head whipped around to stare blankly at him again, hand still gripping at his hat and scalp. An expression of rage then swept over the older man’s face, contorting his features as black color bled into his eyes, consuming all but pinpricks of glowing white in the centers. He shrieked, the ‘SSCCRRREEEEE!’ echoing in the hall as Mike lunged for Jeremy.
Anonymous
