He woke suddenly, the old instinct to gasp catching in his throat. But this time—his chest moved. Air filled lungs that weren't there.
He was sitting in an office chair—old, creaking leather. Faded posters covered the walls. Fredbear and Spring Bonnie smiled down, their grins wide and unsettling. A desk in front, cluttered with old papers. A single flickering bulb overhead, shadows shifting.
Fredbear's Family Diner.
Two doors. The one on the right led backstage—a dark corridor behind the stage where the animatronics entered and exited during shows. The one on the left led to the kitchen, then the dining area, then the front exit. That exit was maybe fifty feet away. Might as well have been a mile.
Both doors swung inward. Neither locked. The office was small—ten feet across, eight between the doors. Just enough space that he couldn't reach both at once. Just enough to make him choose wrong.
The desk was bolted down. The chair, too light to wedge under anything. No barricades. No locks. Just him and the dark and whatever came through.
The leather creaked under him. The desk was cold. His chest rose and fell—lungs filling with air.
Lungs he didn't have.
Alive. He hadn't felt that in ten years. Not since the scooper.
It's a hallucination. All of it.
But it felt real.
He clenched his fists. He knew he was still in that bedroom. Surrounded by the fear gas. Yenndo and Bonnet somewhere nearby.
But his mind was here. Trapped in this nightmare. And knowing it was fake didn't make it any less terrifying.
A clock on the desk. 12:00 AM. Beside it, a tablet.
He picked it up. The screen flickered to life—a grid of security camera feeds.
He clicked through them slowly.
Dining Area—tables and chairs sitting empty, party hats scattered across the floor. The exit door on the far left wall, pale moonlight seeping through the crack beneath it. Fifty feet. Right there. Unreachable.
Kitchen—pots and pans hanging from hooks, everything still.
Then the stage.
Fredbear and Spring Bonnie.
They stood motionless under dim lights. Fredbear—golden bear, purple hat and bow tie, one arm frozen mid-wave. Spring Bonnie—yellow rabbit, guitar clutched in both hands, head tilted forward, staring.
The stage looked exactly as Mike remembered it. Down to the purple curtains. Down to the spotlights.
But something was wrong.
He leaned closer. They looked... occupied. Like there was someone inside both of them.
And they wanted him dead.
He felt it—the same cold, vengeful presence that didn't belong in metal and wires.
Fredbear's head turned slowly toward the camera.
"Michael?" Small. Childlike. Garrett. "Is that you?"
The cold settled deeper. A memory of what fear used to feel like.
Spring Bonnie's head snapped toward the camera.
"Hello, Michael." Cold and amused. William.
"I've been waiting so long," Garrett said, shifting from sad to angry. "You put me in his mouth. You and your friends."
Mike lowered the tablet. He checked the cameras again.
Fredbear was gone. Spring Bonnie, too.
Twelve seconds. They were already moving.
12:05 AM.
Check cameras. Close door. Check cameras.
Relentless.
Fredbear appeared in the backstage camera. Mike bolted to the right door—eight feet—and slammed it shut. Heavy footsteps. Mechanical breathing just outside.
"I died because of you," Garrett said. "Because you wanted to scare me."
Silence.
He spun toward the left door—
Spring Bonnie was already there. Across the room. He crossed in three steps and slammed it shut.
"There you are, son." William's voice dripped with sarcasm. An axe dragging against the floor.
Laughter echoed from the other side.
He opened it. Empty.
Back to the tablet.
12:15 AM.
Fredbear in the dining area. Somewhere between the tables and the exit door. Mike slammed the right door shut. Waited. Opened it. Cycle repeated. Faster. Relentless.
12:30 AM.
His grip on the tablet was slick. Condensation from the cold office air, maybe. Or just the hallucination feeding him sensations his body couldn't produce.
Fredbear at the right door. Blood dripping from its mouth. He slammed it shut.
But Spring Bonnie was already at the left.
As soon as Fredbear left, he crossed the room—eight feet, back and forth, back and forth—and slammed the other door closed.
"You can't hide from what you did, Michael." William snarled from behind the door. "Everything is your fault."
Back to the cameras.
1:00 AM.
One hour down. Five to go.
The rhythm never stopped.
2:00 AM.
The phantom of exhaustion crept in. His arms shouldn't ache—there were no muscles left—but the hallucination didn't care.
Spring Bonnie on the camera—standing in the dining area, staring directly at the lens, waving. The exit door visible behind him. Pale moonlight. So close.
"Come out, Michael. We're having such a lovely family reunion."
He crossed the room and slammed the kitchen door shut. Laughter. Slow. Mocking.
3:00 AM.
Halfway.
The impulse to stop hammered at him. Old instincts. A body that didn't need rest, but the hallucination didn't care.
Fredbear at the right door. Close. Wait.
His mind was fracturing. He could feel it.
4:00 AM.
His vision blurred. He blinked, and it cleared. The hallucination playing tricks.
Fredbear's voice echoed through the office speakers, though Mike couldn't see him on any camera.
"I died because of you," Garrett whispered. "Because you wanted to scare me."
5:00 AM.
One hour left.
Both animatronics moving faster. No breaks. No pauses.
5:50 AM.
Everything felt distant. The hallucination's grip loosening, or tightening—he couldn't tell.
"You're just like him, you know." Garrett's voice, colder now. "You hurt people too. You just don't want to admit it."
5:58 AM.
Just a little longer. He'd woken up before. He'd wake up again.
"You're not waking up this time." William. "This is where you belong."
5:59 AM.
"You killed me," Garrett whispered. "And now I'm going to kill you."
Then—
He woke up again, back at the desk. The clock: 12:00 AM.
Mike stared at it. A laugh scraped out of him, hollow.
"You have got to be kidding me."