Just Another Night

Mike Schmidt fought back a yawn while he sat in the security office. He cycled idly through the cameras, only briefly staying on certain rooms while he checked on everyone. Bonnie sat in the dining room with her feet propped up on one of the tables. Chica was off doing something in the kitchen. Freddy was relaxing in his usual spot. Foxy was in Pirate's Cove, last he checked. Satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms, tempted to grab some shut eye.

It had been a long day for them all. A couple of birthdays had really taken it out of Mike and the synthetic beings he watched over. He'd been hired on for extra help to make sure everything was in order for a few hours doing the day. But those few hours had really taken it out of him so much, he'd just fallen straight to sleep until his shift started.

He had been a little surprised when he learned that the others could experience fatigue. But apparently, even they had their limits and liked to rest every once in a while, especially after a day like today. Hence, everyone was taking it easy tonight. Mike certainly wasn't complaining. Even after the two weeks he'd been working here, this job was still pretty tiring.

He whipped his phone with the intention of playing some Snake. He flicked on the cameras again. Pirate Cove's curtains were open. A quick look at the west hall camera showed Foxy striding towards the office.

"Ahoy there, Mike!" he greeted cheerily. "Permission ta step inside yer office, sir?"

Mike cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were supposed to be a captain."

"Aye, I am lad but only of my ship," he corrected. "This here office be yer territory an' it's only proper for any good captain ta ask the permission-a the other 'fore steppin' foot in his cabin."

"I guess that makes sense," he shrugged. "Permission granted, Foxy."

"Thank ya, lad." Foxy stepped in and peered at the monitor. "All quiet on deck?"

"Seems like it," he nodded. "Everyone's pretty tuckered out from today and I don't blame them. You seem fairly chipper though."

"I've had over twenty years-a restin', Mike. I got energy ta spare," he replied. "Though I gotta say, me little mateys were fairly rowdy taday. Nothin' I can't handle."

"It was more than I could handle for the most part," said Mike. "I am not used to dealing with kids. Like, at all."

"Least you'll be gettin' experience, lad," noted Foxy. "Titles migh' be nice, but experience outranks everythin'."

"Wise words," he remarked. "You've settled back in fine?"

"Aye," nodded Foxy. "Like steppin' on the deck of a ship after years-a bein' in port. It's a rocky start at firs', but it all comes back ta ya. Seems I've missed a lot though."

"In what way?" asked Mike.

"Jus' some-a the things me little mateys come out with," he replied. "A fair few times, they ask me if I ever crossed blades with a Cap'n Jack Sparrah. Mus' be a pirate-a great infamy ta be known ta so many."

"Yeah, you could say that," chuckled Mike.

"An' new gadgets too," he continued. "I remember when they took photos wi' cameras. Now, they're takin' out these lil' black things ta do it. They stare at 'em so much, I'da thought they found some kinda treasure like the world has never seen."

"Technology of today, Foxy. Although I guess I'm a little bit behind too." He showed him his phone. "I just stick with this one. Can't really afford any newer models."

Foxy peered at it curiously. "So them strange things be phones? Not like any phone I've ever seen."

"I'll bet," said Mike. "Like I said, mine's a lot older, but you can do more with it than make calls. Like, mine's got a calculator, a calendar, a couple of games."

"Games?" Foxy shook his head. "How can ya play games on that dinky lil' device?"

"I'll show you." He opened up his games in the menu. "I don't really have a lot of choice. A soccer game, Tetris, Snake. Pretty basic."

"Now, tha' is a wonder," murmured Foxy.

Mike frowned at him. "Kind of weird how you're remarking on how wondrous a piece of technology is. You're way more advanced than this thing."

"Aye, I can appreciate other technology than meself, lad," reasoned Foxy. "Like how ye can appreciate other people. Now, how's about showin' Ol' Foxy how ya play on this here phone."

Mike pulled up Snake and let Foxy watch while he played. Though it was a simple game, he seemed fascinated nevertheless. He even asked to have a go and Mike let him, on the assurance that he would be careful with it. While he busied himself with the game, Mike left him to it and decided to make a round of the building, though not really for security reasons.

Leaving the office, Mike headed towards the dining area. There, he found Bonnie, her feet lazily planted on the table while she cradled her guitar like a child. She glanced up at his entrance and smiled.

"Eh, what's up doc?" she greeted with an affected voice.

"Hunting wabbit," returned Mike. "You look relaxed."

"Hey, I earned it," she insisted. "I haven't been worked like that for a long while."

"You must have had your fair share of birthday parties," said Mike.

She snickered. "Oh yeah, sure. Just call me the Birthday Queen, purveyor of all things celebratory and involving cake."

"And lady of sarcasm?" quipped Mike.

"My best title," she affirmed. "Point is, yes I have seen plenty of birthday bashes. But that one was more like a birthday bash, crash and smash at the same time."

Mike shrugged. "I guess this place has started to get its popularity back. With Foxy and you guys walking around again, maybe more people are starting to come back."

"Looks that way." She adjusted the string and looked at him. "You know, this is all your fault."

"My fault?" Mike repeated.

"Sure is," she said. "If you hadn't gone and given Foxy his hope back, we wouldn't have decided that step off stage as part of giving Freddy's a better name and I'd still be having a cushy gig and joints that don't feel like they're gonna fall off me any second."

As if on cue, her right arm completely disconnected and fell to the ground. Bonnie looked down at it and gestured at it to Mike. He glanced at the arm, then back at her.

"You need a hand?" he asked.

"Oh, shut up, Schmidt." She reattached her limb and flexed it. "Detachable joints. Great for maintenance upkeep and comedic timing."

"My sides are splitting," he remarked. "Hey, I was wondering about that. Can you move them around if they're not connected?"

"You mean like this?" She yanked off her right hand and placed it on the table. Its fingers scuttling like spiders legs, it scurried around in a circuit before springing back on to Bonnie's wrist. "Addams family ain't got nothing on me, Mikey."

"No kidding," he murmured. Just when he thought he knew everything about these guys.

"I can't do it forever, though," she explained. "I can maintain the connection to a limb for a couple of minutes, but that's it. Then it's just like what would happen if I cut your hand off. Only less messy."

"Sorry if I'm not enthusiastic to try and for ruining your cushy gig."

"Yeah, well you should be."

"On which count?"

"Both of them. Big baby, not letting me cut your hand off and working this poor bunny to death." A sincere smile appeared on her face. "Seriously though, thanks Mikey. It's cool seeing this place look full again."

"And having Foxy back?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, that too. But hey, don't let this go to your head, okay? Can't have your ego outgrowing mine."

"Wouldn't want that," laughed Mike. He started toward the kitchen. "See you around, Bonnie."

"Later rather than sooner," she called.

Mike could barely keep the smile off his face. Whoever thought that rabbits were timid, shy creatures had obviously never spent five minutes with Bonnie Bunny. He approached the kitchen door and remembering his manners, knocked.

"Come in," came Chica's voice. She looked up from the chopping board and beamed at his arrival. "Well, if it isn't my favourite night watchman."

"I'm the only night watchman, Chica," he reminded.

"All the more reason you're my favourite," she returned. "What can I do for you, Mike?"

"Just checking up on everyone," he answered. "I thought you'd be taking it easy after today."

"I will in a bit," she said. "I want to have at least one pizza made for tomorrow. Besides, I haven't made one like this for a while."

As Mike approached, he caught a familiar sweet smell. "Is that… chocolate?"

"It is," she affirmed. "Chica's Chocolate Supreme. Pizza base with chocolate sauce, with smarties and chocolate buttons as topping and white chocolate sprinkles on top."

Mike consciously knew he was drooling at the sight.

"Will you marry me?" he moaned.

She giggled and blushed heavily. "Goodness. So forward, Mr Schmidt. At least buy me flowers first."

"S-sorry." Now, it was his turn to blush. "That kind of slipped out…"

"I know," she smiled. "I'll just act you complimented me on my cooking like a normal person would."

"I should have done," he said quickly, wiping the drool away. "You're really an amazing chef, Chica."

"Thank you, Mike." Her face glowed, as did her smile. "That's so sweet of you."

"Well, I-I mean it."

"Aww. Ah buh buh!" She slapped his hand away which had been edging toward the chocolate wonder. "Fingers off, mister."

"S-sorry!" he stammered. He hadn't even noticed it was happening. "Not even… one slice?"

"Sorry, Mike," she said sympathetically. "But I can't have it one slice short. That wouldn't be fair on the children, would it?"

Mike sighed. "I guess. I hope I get to try it someday, though."

"If you're lucky and I'm feeling nice."

"You're always nice." That earned another blush and a smile. "So, what's prompted you to make this?"

"Call it my way of celebrating," she replied, boxing the pizza. "With the restaurant on the rise again, I thought this would make a special treat for the next birthday party we have. I asked Aaron to get me the ingredients and he was happy to."

"Did you promise him a slice if he did?" teased Mike.

"Oh hush you. I told you, you're not getting a slice today."

He shrugged. "Can you blame me for trying?"

"No, I suppose not." She flinched as she yanked a feather out, stuck in the box and left a note on it saying 'for birthdays'. "There we go and I better not catch you trying to sneak a piece, Mike."

"I'll try my best to resist," he promised. "But I can't help it your cooking's so good."

"Oh stop it or I might actually give in and let you have one," she blushed. "I'm sure your mother made you some good meals too."

"Actually, my dad does most of the cooking in our house," he corrected. "I guess he learned a few things from you."

"So he was paying attention in those cooking lessons I gave him," she murmured. "How are they, anyway?"

"Fine," said Mike stiffly. "Just fine."

"Are you sure?" Concern crossed her features. "Mike, is there something wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"But-"

"Chica, no offence but… I'd prefer to deal with it myself," he replied.

"O-oh." She looked hurt. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry…"

"It's okay," he said quickly, feeling guilty. "I appreciate you asking but it's not your problem. It's fine, really."

"If you say so," she said unsurely. "But don't be afraid to ask us for help if you need it, Mike. We're your friends and we're here for you, if need us."

"Thanks," he said sincerely. "Have a good night, Chica."

"You too, Mike." She sounded almost forlorn as he left.

He wondered for a moment if he shouldn't talk to her. But he put it out of his mind and made his way to the open backstage door. He knocked on it to get Freddy's attention, who looked up from his ponderings.

"Good evenin' to you, Mike," he greeted. "Please, come in. Have a seat."

"Evening, Fred." He sat opposite the lead singer. "Everything okay here?"

"Sure is," he said. "Just enjoyin' a little peace and quiet after today's little ruckus. I'm gettin' too old for this sort of thing."

"Hope not or else I'm out of a job," joked Mike. "What would they call this place without you leading the band?"

"Hm. You know, that's a mighty fine question," he remarked. "Lemme see… Bonnie's House of Rock? Chica's Pizza Coop? Port Foxy?"

"You came up with those pretty quickly," Mike noted.

"My mind tends to wander in odd places when I just sit and think," shrugged Freddy. "Sometimes it's contemplating philosophical conundrums like the nature of our existence and our place in this world. Others, it's things like how Chica always manages to get the perfect texture for her cheese or what Foxy would do if he were really given a ship."

"The most important questions," agreed Mike with a laugh.

"But of course." He chuckled. "Forgive this old bear for ramblin' on, Mike."

"It's fine," said Mike. "Hey Fred, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot, son."

"Have you guys ever been outside? I mean, have you ever left the restaurant?" he clarified.

"Hmm." Freddy shook his head sadly. "Afraid not, son. With our unique nature and the position that we're in, it's simply too risky to step outside those doors."

"But don't you wish you could?" he asked. "See what it's like outside the restaurant? Do some stuff you've maybe always wanted to do?"

Freddy was silent for a while. "There's some things, I'm sure. But I'm afraid I don't see it happenin' anytime soon. This place is our home and our refuge. Like it or not, it's always going to be."

"If you say so," murmured Mike.

Freddy smiled. "I appreciate what you're gettin' at and what you want, Mike. But you've done us a great service already. You've helped give this place new life, returned our prodigal fox and give us a fine new friend. We're indebted to you for that and you don't owe us anythin'."

Though Mike nodded, he didn't quite agree. They'd given him a lot too. A job that was steady and paid a decent amount, good friends and a measure of fulfilment like he'd never felt before. He wanted to go extra to pay them back for that too, especially considering the time of year.

December was rolling around and Christmas was coming. Mr Johnson had talked about decorating the place over the weekend for the last round of parties before they closed for the season. He wasn't sure about the synth's feelings about the holiday, but Mike wanted to give them something really special and this was something he'd been thinking about for a while.

Upon hearing Freddy's tone, he was now convinced. One way or another, he was going to show them what it was like beyond the walls they were confined inside. In the most cheesy sense possible, he knew what he was going to give them this year: a taste of freedom.

Hey there again folks and welcome back to Alpha's Anthology of Awesome!

Now, with all the cries for a sequel of sorts and following from my promise, I couldn't let those cries go ignored and my promise dishonoured. So, my gift to you this Christmas is this little story. Now, I do mean little, only about four or five chapters long, but I hope it'll be a heart-warming one for the season.

So, in the reviews you leave, feel free to chuck out some ideas for what you'd like to see the gang do if they were to leave the restaurant with Mike and we'll see if we can't fit them in somewhere. Update as soon as I can and see if I can't get this done before Christmas.

Be strong, be swift, be just.