You wake up in the backstage area on the floor. You notice Michael right away, stuffed into a suit. A spare Freddy head was next to him, and his eyes were closed. He appeared to be breathing, thankfully. You stand up then dart over to the door, banging on it as hard as you can, but it was locked. Your watch reads 5:17am. Your shift wasn't even over. What the hell?! How long had you been unconscious? That didn't matter now though. You needed to find a way out of here. But Michael...should you save him? You decide to try to wake him up. You search the room desperately and find a water bottle that was filled with a yellow liquid. Gagging at the putrid smell, you splash the contents of the bottle onto Michael's face. 

Michael wakes up, looking furious. This is the first time you have seen him angry, and that terrifies you. Michael struggles to move then notices that he's been stuffed into the suit and stops wriggling.

"Um...Y/N? What model is this Freddy suit?" Michael asks, his voice filled with fear.

"How would I know?! I just started working here!" you shout angrily. You couldn't believe why Michael was asking YOU, the new nightguard, this question. "Wait, there are different Freddy models?" you ask incredulously.

Michael rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. "Well then, I need you to tell me the features of this Freddy. Does it have two buttons on the chest?"

You study the Freddy suit and note that there are no buttons on the front. "Nope." you say, wondering why this even matters.

"Great!" Michael exclaims. "That means that it's not the 1983 springlock model."

You are confused about what springlocks are, but decide not to ask. They sounded pretty bad, especially if Michael was excited about the lack of springlocks in the suit. 

"What color are the cheeks on the Freddy head?" Michael asks, his voice filled with desperation.

"Brown," you respond, wondering why the color of Freddy's cheeks matters right now, when it seems that Michael's death is imminent.

"That's good." Michael responds. "That means that I'm trapped inside the 1993 Freddy model and not the 1987 model. Man, that "new" Freddy was a total jerk."

"Wait, why do you know so much about animatronic models?" you ask, suspicion laced upon every word.

"That doesn't matter right now." Michael responds coldly. "What matters is getting the hell out of here before 6 am." He wriggles around in the suit a bit more and it opens up like a nutshell. Michael climbs out of the suit, smirking. "Release switch was in the left elbow joint. Works like a charm."

You walk over to the door, about to start banging on the door again when Michael takes his wallet out of his pocket, fishes out his driver's license from a sea of what appeared to be fake IDs, then slid the driver's license through the crack in the side of the door. The locked door opens, and Michael puts his wallet and license back into his pocket. You look at Michael in awe and walk out the opened door.