Epilogue: The Next Day

Foxy stood motionless behind his curtain, able to see and hear, but not able to move. Freddy and the others were in a similar state, but able to alter the timing of their show to react to the audience. It wasn't a busy day, as far as Foxy could tell, and the applause was very lackluster. Par for the course these days, unfortunately. News had apparently spread about last night, and the guests could be heard talking about "this place being turned into a movie." This confused him. What movie? Maybe he'd ask Mike. Then his curtain opened, and Foxy expected to see Mike, maybe the manager, but instead, it was… Caleb's mother. She was accompanied by a police officer. Caleb's mother stopped and stared when she entered, and the police officer looked at her curiously, before turning to Foxy. He frowned.

"I don't know lady," he said, "Looks like this thing hasn't even been looked at for decades, let alone turned on."

"But I'm sure that's what attacked us," Caleb's mother insisted, "What about that guard? I think he said his name was… what was it? Dennis?"

"Ma'am, your neighborhood doesn't employ night guards. There isn't anyone named Dennis that works in any form of private security in the area, either. Are you sure you didn't imagine anything?"

"Of course not," she replied, insulted, "I swear it happened. I've never been more scared in my entire life."

"I see… And have you and your family been taking any sort of medication?" the officer then asked.

"Don't be ridiculous! Absolutely not!" Caleb's mother replied.

"I'll need to take you down to the station and answer a few more questions. Okay?" the officer said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Why? This is the thing that attacked me! Arrest him or something!" Caleb's mother shouted, shaking off the officer's hand.

"Ma'am, I can't arrest an old piece of junk, and there's no evidence suggesting any part of this restaurant was responsible. There's no guard named Dennis, no signs that this thing has even moved in years. I think that there's something you're not telling us. Come on back to the station, and we'll sort this out." The officer told her, grabbing her arm and leading her out of Pirate's Cove. Caleb's mother's protests could be heard disappearing as she was escorted out of the building. The manager stuck his head in, interested in the activity, and looked at Foxy.

"I don't know what you did," he said, "And I don't want to. Whatever happens at night, that's on Mike. Eh, who am I kidding, you don't know what I'm saying anyways. Just a machine."

With that, the manager left, and Foxy was left alone. The hours passed, day turned to night, and the restaurant eventually emptied. Foxy heard the entrance open and shut twice, then Mike's voice, and the door open and shut again. When Foxy felt himself loosen up, he poked his head out of the curtain, and gave his usual gaping-jawed grin at the camera, already finding it on. Foxy decided to skip the formalities and just charge the instant the camera turned off. He saw the door was open, and Mike was sitting in his chair, looking at him, arms crossed. He jumped slightly when Foxy rounded the corner, stopping right in front of Mike, but quickly recovered.

"Not this time, Foxy. Remember when I said you owe me? And that you were still knee-deep in trouble?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Aye," Foxy replied, raising his eye patch and closing his loose jaw.

"Well then," Mike began, standing and walking to the supply closet, "I spent the day thinking, 'What should I do?' Then I thought, 'What would a pirate do as punishment?" He returned into the office with a mop and a bucket.

"I gave Jerry the night off," Mike explained, dropping the bucket and mop in front of Foxy, "So, as punishment, you need to clean the entire place. Swab the deck, that sort of thing." Mike faltered when Foxy started to growl, scowl forming on his face, taking a step forward.

Um… Maybe this wasn't such a good idea… Mike suddenly thought as Foxy growled louder, until the pirate suddenly reached down and grabbed the mop and bucket.

When Foxy straightened, his scowl was replaced with a smile, and he turned on his heel and walked out. Soon Mike could hear water slopping onto the floor. He sighed, then sat in his chair, rolled up to his desk, picked up the tablet, and began flicking through the cameras.

A/N: Most of you probably noticed I didn't flag this story as "Complete" yesterday, when the last chapter was posted. I decided there was still a little bit more story to tell, and now I'm ready to close the book on this… well, "book." Gonna take a longer pause than usual, ironing out the details of the next installment. I plan on keeping the rapid schedule I had for this one, as I get on a roll, but give me time to get the ball rolling in the first place. Thanks for reading everyone. For now, see you on Night Two.