A/N: Surprse! Bet you didn't expect to see me for a week or two... or three...

This came when I was trying to write for Choices. It's dark, gory, and kinda'... no, VERY depressing. Not the best ending, but I'm tired okay?! This is what happens to my mind when I stay up till one then wake up at six... for a week.

WARNING: This is Bloody! Like, squimish people should get lost while they still have their squims.

He watched with fascination as it dripped off the chair leg next to him. It clung to his chest like a velvet glue. It covered the guy several feet away from him. It was splattered against the floor... It was everywhere in the room.

Blood.

Turning away from the chair leg Mike coughed. His chest seared with ever hacked he made and his spit was a frothy pink. Yet no matter how much he coughed, it felt like he couldn't pull enough air into his lungs. The panicky feeling of drowning was like a constant adrenaline rush. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't pull in a deep breath and his heart thudded weakly in his chest.

He was dying.

He coughed again spitting out a clot of blood and grimacing from the tastes. Somewhere in the building the sound of dishes clattering suddenly rang out. Of course, it didn't scare Mike. Not anymore…

Sure he had been scared of any noise while the prospect of living was an option, but it was too late for him now. He would be lucky to see the next half an hour.

Glancing down at the stump of a torso lying at his feet, Mike couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for the man. Sure the man's death had probably been painful as hell, but when you're shot by the said man… it's a little hard to find compassion for them.

Who even tries to rob a pizzeria? Mike thought as he feebly looked through his lashes. He could see the remnants of tears and tried to bring a hand to wipe them away.

No response.

His hand wouldn't even twitch.

He was dead.

He was dying…

Mike began hacking again, bringing more blood up and staining more of the chair leg red. Idly he wondered how they were going to get this out of the wooden leg. It looked like it was already starting to soak in. Yeah, imagine explaining that to parents.

"Oh don't worry it's not blood. Just pizza sauce we've never been able to wash out."

Mike smiled at his own macabre explanation. In the dim lighting everything could be pizza sauce. They could tooootally use that. Hell, before he worked here he would have believed it.

His gaze was drawn back down to the torso and he shook his head. The man probably didn't even know the danger he had been in.

He had seen him in the cameras. He had caught sight of him in the hallway Foxy and Bonnie used, heading towards the main dining area. At the time the only thing he could think about was warning the poor soul. The dude was going to wander right into a living nightmare.

He had checked the cameras hurriedly, noting how Freddy was in the bathrooms, Chika was backstage, and Bonnie was in the spare-parts room. Foxy wasn't even peering out from the curtains. It would be risky, but not impossible if he was quick. After doing that he did something he had been told, never to do.

He left the room.

If the man died it would be on his conscious, and Mike didn't know if he could live with that. So he grabbed the forgotten flashlight he had been given for his 'guarding' and ran out after the man.

Now, if he had really thought about it, he might have approached with more caution. After all, the man was in after hours, and the owner made sure to lock the doors tight every night. There weren't that many windows that the man could have crawled through, and who in their right mind would do that anyways!?

But like the idiot self that had taken the job, he had rushed in headfirst with the best intentions in mind, and got the worse outcome possible.

By the time Mike reached him, the man was in the dining area. Mike hadn't wanted to draw the animatronic's attention, so had reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder. He had to warn him, he had to let him know that-! The next thing he knew, a fist had connected with his cheek and gut, and he was sprawled against a chair with a gun pointed at him.

"You need to get out of here!" Mike gasped, trying to catch his breath. His mind wasn't fully in the situation. It was still thinking of possible outcomes that might occur in the next few minutes if they didn't move. He wasn't fully aware that his death was already staring at him.

The man didn't seem to hear the desperation in his voice. With shaking hands the man tightened his grip on the gun. "Who the fuck are you?"

"T-The night guard, but that's not important! We need to get out of here!" Mike tried again to warn the man. In his mind the animatronics were closing in on them. Every second was a fucking precious second they could use to get away! Couldn't the man see that?

"I'm not leaving without a profit," The man growled out. He licked his lips nervously. "Now don't move or I'll shoot you."

"You don't understand," Mike began. His heart was threatening to break free of his chest and leave him here. He began standing up. "We've got to-!"

Crack!

The sound was odd echoing off the walls as the gun in the man's hand flashed with light. Even more odd was the sudden numbness that enveloped Mike's body.

He was dying.

Mike tried to will his hands to move with no success. His chest was in excruciating pain, but the rest of his body was strangely numb. He couldn't feel his waist, arms, legs… and they wouldn't respond to his command either.

Another round of hacking had him making a small puddle of drool and blood on the floor. Its size was dwarfed by the puddle that formed from the man's torso. Mike still had a hard time believing that's all they left of him.

The man had shot him. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he had hit a lung, and Mike was pretty sure that the reason why he couldn't move was because the bullet had hit his spine. So he was paralyzed… bleeding/drowning to death with no one but himself to blame.

"It told you not to move…" The man muttered above him, putting the gun back into a hip holster Mike hadn't seen. It seemed almost as if he were talking to himself more then Mike.

The shock Mike felt was quickly morphing into that of pain. His chest felt like it had been set on fire and his eyes watered. The man looked down at him with a pitied sneer, but Mike wasn't focusing on him though. Behind the man, a shadow was manifesting into a horrifyingly familiar form.

A purple hand latched itself onto the man's shoulder and the man swung around with surprising swiftness, striking out with his fist. A dull clank was heard as it met Bonnie's snout and the man shouted in pain. Backing up and cradling his hand the man looked at Bonnie. "The fuck are you!" He shouted. Bonnie didn't answer, only staring at the man with a cold gaze. That gaze slowly went from the man down to Mike.

Mike wanted to crawl under the table. He wanted to shrivel up and die. He would do almost anything to get that gaze off of him.

Bonnie refocused on the man and he took a step forward.

"Not another move!" The man growled out, the gun fixed on Bonnie's head. "I'll kill you, just like I killed him."

Neither Mike, nor the man were expecting the reaction Bonnie gave.

Like a switch had been flipped, Bonnie jerked forward, nimbly stepping over Mike's prone body and reaching for the man. The man dodged to the side and fired a shot into Bonnie. The purple animatronic screeched and glared at the man. One of Bonnie's eyes were now dull and cracked. Again Bonnie moved with startling jerky movements to attack and the man barely managed to move out of the way.

The man for his part swiftly began backing away, intent of getting away.

Little did he know he was back up towards the stage.

Bonnie followed, stepping over Mike once again.

Mike watched as Chika appeared from behind the stage, her near-demonic face grinning at the man backing up towards her. Cursing under his breath, the man brought the gun up and continued to walk backwards. "Don't come any closer!" He shouted. "I'll shoot you, you-you freak of nature!"

His shouting plus the earlier gunfire had attracted the other two animatronics and Mike could see Foxy peering out from behind the curtains. Freddy stood in the hallway next to the bathrooms. The mechanical sound of footsteps alerted the man to Freddy and he cursed again. "How many of these fucking things are there?!"

By then he was only a few feet from backing up into Chika and Foxy was completely out of his cove. A sadistic smile was on the robotic fox's face as he suddenly began sprinting towards the man.

Mike couldn't do anything as the man was assailed from all sides by the animatronics. A few shots were fired, but the best the man did was shoot a hole in Foxy's ear. With quick movements Chika grabbed one of the man's arms while he was tackled full-force by Foxy. The wrenching crunch the man's shoulder gave caused Mike to wince. A purple leg stomped down on one of the man's legs and a dry crack was heard.

Freddy coldly grabbed the screaming man. Foxy was tearing into him, using his claws and teeth that were quickly becoming red. Chika continued to pull on the arm. And Bonnie stomped on the leg again. None of the man's thrashing seem to do anything. None of his screaming made a difference.

Mike finally lost sight of them as Freddy threw him off the stage and a table cut off his view. The animatronics were quick to follow their prey. Mike closed his eyes and cried silently as he listened to the man's gurgled screams for help, knowing he could do nothing and that when the man was dead, he was going to be next. He was in agony already with his chest constantly sending spikes of pain. It hurt to breathe and every time his heart pumped he could see his shirt darken more with blood.

It didn't take long for the man's screams to stop, but even after Mike knew the man had to be dead, he could hear the sickening squish of meat. He could hear the snapping of bones and the tearing of ligaments. The animatronics continued to tear the man apart with cold intentions.

Mike opened his mouth in horror as the bloody torso was slid towards his view. The room became deathly quiet and his stomach revolted against the sight. He could see the bloody feet of the animatronics under the table coming towards him, and one thing surfaced in his mind. Play dead.

Despite the pain Mike relaxed the parts of his body he was in control of. He closed his eyes and the deepest breath he could.

And held it.

The shock was gone now as well as the adrenaline, causing the pain he had felt initially to increase tenfold. If he had to explain it, Mike would say it was a numbing pain. Because everything else faded from existence except the pain.

How he was still alive was a mystery. Mike was sure that he should have bled out by now and he was amazed by the pool he was starting to make. How much blood did they say you had in your body? Six pints? Seven? When did the blood loss cause you to black out, because he was sure he was past that point.

Opening his eyes Mike stared at the only light in the room. A bare bulb sat in the corner of his vision, casting a pale light over the room and giving the grotesque scene a surreal feel. The blood almost looked black…

The thud of a footstep vibrated the floor and Mike watched as Freddy peered at him over the table he was partly sprawled under. The constant grin grew more sinister as the brown animatronic tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner.

After everything he had seen Mike lost control. He felt a crazed smile grow on his own face and he returned Freddy's gaze. "C-Come on big guy… Finish…ghhrrsh…Finish me off." He weakly spat blood out of his mouth and was quickly overcome by another coughing fit.

Freddy made his way around the table, not caring about stepping the cooling remains of the man and, and kneeled next to Mike. With exaggerated slowness Freddy leaned in until he had invaded Mike's personal space and tilted his head to the side again.

They stared each other down for what felt like hours and Mike felt himself slowly start to grow lightheaded.

Freddy was the first to break his gaze. He looked behind him before lowering himself into a sitting position. Jerkily he scooted up until he was back in the Mike's personal space and he leaned in once again.

Mike was confused. Why wasn't Freddy killing him? They didn't hesitate to tear the man apart so why was Freddy taking his time with him- Freddy jerked backwards as Mike started hacking again. Flecked of blood added to the ever growing red marks on the ground and Mike groaned as his chest flared with dull pain.

He watched as Freddy turned his attention towards his chest where the gun wound was leaking a small, steady amount of blood. Freddy turned to look at Mike, then back at his chest, then back at Mike.

"What?" Mike managed to gurgle out. "Never seen… someone b-bleed to dea-rgh!" He made a slight chocking noise as he swallowed blood that had seeped into his throat. He panted trying to catch his breath.

Freddy looked back at Mike's chest, then looked at his own. His cold eyes calculating and he raised a hand above Mike's chest. Even though Mike knew something was about to happen, he felt alarmed. "What are you…"

Without another word Freddy plunged one of his fingers into the bullet hole.

Mike couldn't help the hoarse scream of pain, as the animatronic dug into his wound. For a minute he forgot how to breathe as the pain in his chest grew unbearable. Even the slightest pulse of his heart sent pain up his neck. Eventually he began sucking in the shallowest of breaths gave Freddy a watery glare as the animatronic gave him a cool look, his finger stretching the wound. It felt like he had pushed all the way through.

Mike didn't bother speaking, he doubted the animatronic even understood him.

Several minutes were leeched from the clock and neither one of them moved. Mike waited for Freddy to continue digging into the wound. He waited for him to try and fit his whole hand in. He waited for him to try and reach in and grab his heart. But it never came. Freddy just sat there, with his finger stuck in his body.

The lightheaded feeling grew as Mike came to an unlikely reason of why he wasn't dead yet. Of why Freddy hand't killed him and was just sitting there. The idea was ludicrous, preposterous. It was a stupid, dumb, idiotic, out-of-his-mid idea.

Maybe Freddy wasn't trying to kill him.

Dots began swimming in his vision as he now desperately clung to consciousness. Before he had wanted to pass out, now he was afraid to. What time was it? He could make it! He just had to last until the next shift came in. Freddy's finger was serving as a sort of clot, slowing his blood loss. Sure the fur was probably invested with billions of harmful bacteria, but if he survived… if he lived…

Freddy cocked his head to the side again as Mike focused on him. Questions were swimming around in his mind. Why was Freddy doing this? How had the animatronic even come up with the idea? Where was the killer machine he had been just a short while ago?

The bloody mess they were sitting in seemed to fade into the background. The smell of warm organs and blood vanished. Freddy showed no intention other than sitting there staring at him, like he was the most interesting thing on Earth. It still felt like an icy hot knife was being plunged into his chest every time he took a breath, but it looked like the bleeding was halting.

Unconsciousness began dragging him downwards, despite Mike's protests. And his senses began dulling. Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt a large finger hesitantly wipe them away. For the umpteenth time Freddy tilted his head to the side, as if asking, "Why are you crying?"

Darkness enveloped Mike.

"How… is-is he still alive?"

"John call an ambulance!"

"So what? We can show them this manslaughter?! Julie we can't do anything! We'll get this place closed down. We just need to follow standard procedure."

"We can't just let him die! Look who fucking saved him! He's never acted like this! Do you want him knowing you're the reason this kid died?"

"… fine…"

A/N: So yeah, I'm going to go dream of regaining my soul because I think I misplaced it writing this.