When Mike returned to the restaurant for the start of his shift, he came early. There was a note on the door, and a rentable moving truck parked in the parking lot. The guard grabbed the note.
Truck Foxy to wherever the hell you're going to put him once your shift is done. You have that truck for a week. Don't take it as a kind gesture, you'll need it because you're still the guard. Don't mess this up.
Mike sighed once he read it. Of course he was still the guard, but at least he had the truck. He crumpled the note up in his hand and unlocked the main entrance. The door to the Kitchen had "No Entry" sign posted on the front, and the door was discolored. Mike opened it and looked inside.
The back wall was charred black, as were the ovens and cupboards that had been caught in the fire. Some of the appliances that had apparently escaped damage were gone, and Mike assumed they were already in Pirate's Cove. Foxy was most likely not going to be happy.
Leaving the devastated Kitchen, Mike headed for the Cove to see what was up. There were still several minutes before the animatronics entered free roam, so the guard had time to get a non-biased opinion. The curtains had been taken down, leaving the new interior exposed. Extension cords ran out of the opening, stretching along the wall and connecting to several outlets scattered throughout the restaurant. The inside was still really dark, and Mike couldn't see much more than a few large silhouettes from what had to be the equipment from the Kitchen. But Foxy couldn't be seen. Curious as to what happened to him, Mike grabbed his flashlight from the office and switched it on, panning the beam around the large, dark room.
The stage hadn't changed, the treasure chest was still there, but a lot of the floor space was covered by stuff from the Kitchen, with appliances, counters, wires and tubes quickly jury-rigged to work in the space. Mike kept searching, and finally found Foxy. He was in the corner furthest from the door, and covered with a drop cloth, apparently to keep him from creeping out the workers. The guard yanked it off, tossing it to the floor, and headed to the Dining Hall to meet the animatronics once they reactivated.
Soon, Mike's watch went off, signifying it was now midnight, and Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica climbed off the stage.
"Hey guys," Mike greeted. Freddy nodded seriously.
"Hello Michael. What's the situation? What's going on to Pirate's Cove?" Freddy asked.
"They're using it as a temporary kitchen until the main one gets fixed," Mike explained.
"What about Foxy?" Bonnie asked.
"Yeah, here's the thing-," Mike began, but fast clanking footsteps cut him off.
Foxy ran angrily into the Dining Hall, clutching the drop cloth that had covered him in his good hand.
"Wha' do they be doin' to me cove!?" Foxy demanded, "Wha' be the meanin' of coverin' me up?"
Foxy started tearing the drop cloth to pieces furiously.
"Foxy, relax, alright? I need to tell you something," Mike said, dodging flying pieces of fabric. Foxy stopped and looked at him, still scowling. Mike continued.
"They're using the Cove as a temporary kitchen, and they're taking you out of it. But the thing about that is-," Mike once again tried to explain.
Foxy eyes widened.
"Wha'!? They're gettin' rid o' me!? Those dirty, rotten, bilge drinkin'…" Foxy annihilated the drop cloth, and Mike tried to get his attention.
"Foxy, calm down, they're not getting rid of you!" Mike shouted. Foxy paused halfway through biting another piece of cloth in half.
"They're no'?" Foxy asked, pulling the cloth out of his mouth.
"Well, technically, they were going to, but I convinced them that I could store you until they were finished," Mike explained.
All previous anger Foxy had dissipated immediately, and he dropped the tattered remains of the drop cloth.
"Wha' does that mean?" Foxy asked. Mike ran a hand through his hair.
"Well…" he began.
Mike had locked up twenty minutes before six, loading Foxy into the truck and using the extra time to have an easier time getting the pirate into his apartment. He hadn't thought the plan through all that much, more focused on making sure Foxy wouldn't be thrown out.
Mike's apartment wasn't all that big, and it was on the second floor of the complex he was in. If he waited until his shift was over, then he'd have to find a way to get the big metal fox up the stairs by himself.
The truck rocked on its wheels again, Foxy anxiously pacing back and forth. He was outside again, and better yet, he was allowed outside. The idea of seeing where Mike lived was incredibly exciting! The guard pounded on the wall separating the cabin from the cargo bay.
"Knock that off! I'm driving!" Mike called through. Foxy snickered to himself, and started to rock the truck back and forth, managing to get one of the rear wheels off the ground.
"Jesus, Foxy, stop! You'll make me crash!" Mike shouted again. The guard got his revenge at a red light, where he pumped the brakes hard at the last second, throwing Foxy off his feet.
The loud crash that sounded from the back of the truck startled the one other driver on the road, who was next to the truck at the light, and she rocketed away once the light turned green. Foxy got up and pounded on the front of the cargo bay.
"Ye did tha' on purpose!" Foxy shouted to the guard, who smiled smugly to himself, and continued on to his home.
There was ten minutes left to get Foxy inside before six o'clock made him lock up, and thankfully no one was around. Mike walked around and unlocked the back of the truck As he lifted the door slowly to be quiet, a metal hand grabbed the bottom, and threw it upwards, slamming it against the housing of the truck. The bang echoed in the empty parking lot, and Mike tensed. Nobody complained.
Foxy stepped out, and looked around, large grin on his face.
"So this be yer port o' call," he said, head swiveling.
"Yeah, sure. Come on, let's go," Mike said, and led the fox to the entrance. Using his key to unlock it, he opened the door slowly, finding the hallway empty. He indicated Foxy to follow, and be quiet, and headed for the stairs.
Foxy's metal feet clunked loudly on the wooden floor, leaving scratches on its finish. Since Mike lived on the second floor, he decided there would be no point in risking using the more traffic-heavy elevator. For a second Mike was worried the robot would struggle on the steps, but he didn't need to. Foxy climbed a little bit slowly, and kept his eyes glued to the next step, but there was no difficulty.
They made it into his apartment with just two minutes left, and Mike quickly moved Foxy into the furthest room away from the entrance. The guard reached up and patted the fox on the shoulder.
"Alright, have a good snooze, I'll see you at midnight," Mike said, and headed for his bed, flopping down. As he laid there, he became aware of a presence watching him, and looked up. Foxy was standing in the doorway, glowing eyes looking at him expectantly.
"So, wha' do we be doin'?" Foxy asked.
"Aren't you supposed to shut down at six?" Mike asked. Foxy shook his head.
"No' if we're ou'side tha restaurant," the fox explained. Mike swore.
"Figures. Well, entertain yourself, I'm beat," Mike said, waving the fox away. He didn't move.
"I don' know wha' ta do," Foxy said simply, and Mike ran a hand over his face.
"Alright, fine, follow me," Mike said, and walked into the small living room.
He sat the fox down on the couch, which groaned in protest at the weight, and turned on the television. He flicked through channels, seeing mostly infomercials, until a kid's cartoon about pirates came on.
"Stop!" Foxy ordered, holding up his good hand, "Wha' was tha' one?"
"It's a kid show about pirates," Mike said. Foxy turned to Mike.
"Well put it back," Foxy ordered.
"Seriously?" Mike asked.
"Aye. Put it back," Foxy said again.
Mike nodded, and turned back to the channel, watching with slight bemusement as Foxy stared, fascinated, on the images on the screen.
"I'm going to bed. Don't break anything," Mike said.
Foxy waved his hook dismissively, unblinking gaze locked to the screen. Mike went into his room and fell asleep.
For over two hours, Foxy stared at the pictures on the television. Never before had he seen anything quite like this. There weren't any televisions at the pizzeria, so this was some brand new territory. And he liked it.
Eventually, the colorful cartoon characters were replaced by real people, and Foxy quickly became bored. It just wasn't as interesting. Then the doorbell to Mike's apartment rang, and Foxy snapped his head to face the front door. Nothing happened, and Mike didn't stir, even as the doorbell rang again.
Not wanting to wake Mike this early, Foxy decided to see what that was about. He opened the door a crack. A bored-looking delivery man holding a package and clipboard stood just outside.
"You Mr… Schmidt?" the man asked, not looking up from his clipboard.
"Er… Aye," Foxy replied. The man handed him the clipboard and a pen, pulling up another piece of paper and looking through it.
"Sign here," the man said.
Foxy took the clipboard and studied it, opening the door up all the way so he could grab it. Balancing it on his hook, Foxy took the pen and wrote "Mike" in large, scratchy letters at the bottom of the page, and handed it back.
The delivery man again took it and studied it without looking up.
"Alright, enjoy your package," the man said disinterestedly, and turned and strode away. Foxy leaned out and waved.
"Thank ye, lad!" he called, and grabbed the box, closing the door before the man turned at the odd phrasing.
Tossing the box onto a table, Foxy returned to the couch, and the television. Mike could be heard snoring through the closed door.
Another hour or so passed, and Foxy began to feel restless, and wanted to explore. He opened the front door to Mike's apartment, and stuck his head out, looking left and right.
Seeing nobody around, the fox stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him. A dinging sound caught his attention, and he headed in the direction of the noise. It was the elevator, which doors were closing right as Foxy walked up.
He studied the metal doors curiously, since they didn't match the rest of the building.
"Now what do these be?" Foxy wondered aloud, and the dinging sound went off again, and the elevator doors slid open. Inside was a woman, completely laden with grocery bags, many of which she carried in her arms, in front of her face. She struggled to look around them, and walked into Foxy, tripping and dropping several bags.
"Damn it! Sorry!" she apologized, and awkwardly tried to pick up the fallen bags. Foxy cocked his head curiously, and picked them up.
"Don' worry about it, lass, I'll get 'em. Where we be takin' 'em?" he asked, snagging the bag's handle with his hook.
"That's really nice of you! Just to my room, thank you!" the woman replied, and led the way, awkwardly trying to see around her load.
"You know, you talk weird. You from Scotland?" the woman asked.
"No," Foxy replied flatly. What was a Scotland?
"Oh. Huh," the woman said. They reached her door, which was several doors down from Mike's, and she fumbled in her pocket for the key. Retrieving it, she unlocked it and stepped inside.
"You can just set it on the table," the woman said, walking over to her fridge.
"Alrigh'" Foxy replied, doing as asked, watching as the woman set down her bags as well. Relieved of the weight of the groceries, she turned to Foxy.
"Thank you again, I-," she stopped midsentence and stared, wide-eyed at the fox. Foxy looked behind him, turning his head almost entirely around before looking back, concerned.
"Wha'?" Foxy asked, wondering what she was staring at. The woman began backing away.
Not this again, Foxy thought, and he put up his hands and stepped back as well.
"I'm goin', I'm goin'," Foxy said, not wanting a repeat of the last time, and sprinted back to Mike's apartment, closing the door before the woman could react.
She dashed out and looked down the hall, but saw that it was empty. She stared for almost a minute in complete silence before closing her door, making sure to lock it. She shook herself.
"Was that even real?" she wondered aloud. Now she wanted to find out.
When Mike woke up around one in the afternoon, he found Foxy still staring into the television.
"Enjoy the show?" Mike asked.
"Aye," Foxy replied, turning to the guard.
"Thanks for behaving, bud. You just sat here, right?" Mike asked.
"O'course! I learned me lesson, Mike," Foxy lied. Mike studied him, and Foxy grinned back.
"Alright," Mike said. Foxy turned back to the television.
"Oh, there be a parcel for ye," Foxy said, pointing to the table. Mike saw the box, and picked it up. He looked at Foxy.
"Uh huh, and how did you get this?" Mike asked, suspicious.
"Lad left it in front o' tha door," Foxy replied.
"Okay. I trust you. For now," Mike said. Foxy turned and grinned at him.
"C'mon, Mike, we be roommateys!" Foxy said.
"What?" Mike asked.
"Roommateys!" Foxy said enthusiastically, and turned back to the television. Mike ran a hand through his hair. It was just another day for him.
A/N: Hey howdy hey, ladies and germs! So yeah, that wraps up Night Four! The amount of support I've received from you guys regarding my last Author's Note was really amazing. I know I say it a lot, but I am seriously lucky to have fans like you. Some good news: I'm not going to give up on my CYOA, and now that you guys know about it, I can be much more open about it. The plan is to upload it on a totally unrelated account here, and see how long it lasts. If it gets pulled, I'll give it a more permanent stay somewhere else, but I would really love it to be on here. We'll see how it goes. I have the introductory chapters and decisions completed thus far, and the main plot is getting underway.
UPDATE: Submissions are NO LONGER being accepted, that's why the rules and stuff went away. The winners have already been told, and will be announced to the world at the end of the first chapter of Night Five. If you did not receive a message saying you won, I'm afraid that, well, you didn't. Thank you to everyone who submitted, and congratulations to the winners.
Okay, that's all. Well, except for a selfish question: how's the fan art going? I'm excited to see what people more talented than me (that whole "cheese cube" Chica thing in Night Three? True story.) Don't feel rushed, I'm just curious, since to me, it's the coolest thing ever! I also had a thought: (again, this real conceited), If anyone ever makes a fanfic based on THIS fanfic, what would that be? A fan-fanfic? A FFF? I was actually wondering if anyone's ever done that for anything. I think UH-60 Nightstalker had that. That's pretty cool, he has great stories. Not hinting anything, guys, just curiosity at its finest.
Also, another quick thing: I know Bonnie's actually canonically a guy, but I uploaded my first story before I knew about that, and it ruined my character of (in this case) her. Sorry if that irks some of you, but couldn't be helped.
Yeah, this got pretty self-centered at the end. Sorry, but I'm an actor. I love attention. But enough about me, it's you guys that make this great. One of my absolute favorite things is being able to entertain people, and I can say mission pretty much accomplished with this series so far. Thank you for reading, reviewing, tattooing passages from my stories onto your back and ending up wasting almost 200 dollars because the guy thought you said "Fuckly" as opposed to "Foxy," or whatever it is you guys do when I update. Have a good one! –DeltaV (Yeah, I brought that closer back. It's my favorite.)