Chapter Text
For as long as Mike Schmidt can remember, he's always had a slight interest in anything creepy and mysterious. He had a reputation for it in elementary school, and it resulted in either being teased by his classmates, or getting lectured by the principal after telling them Ronald McDonald roams the playplace in the dead of night and eats children who were left behind. At the age of 14, when he entered high school after a cross-country move, he almost immediately began hearing his new peers talking about Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a local restaurant akin to Chuck E. Cheese's. Of course, he wanted to know what the fuss was about.
According to his peers; in 1987, two horrible incidents happened which permanently damaged the pizzeria's reputation. A group of kids were abducted and their bodies were never found. The second incident occurred a few months after the abduction, on the same day the pizzeria re-opened after taking a break. Only this time, it happened in front of everybody. One of the animatronic characters went haywire and attacked an employee, biting into her face. She survived the attack, but at the cost of her frontal lobe. The incident was dubbed "The Bite of '87" by the press and locals. Mike's peers also told him supposedly true accounts of the animatronic characters moving around at night, and being found in places they shouldn't be.
On one hand, he was intrigued and wanted to know more, yet he also was shocked to know that something so horrific had happened in the city he now lives in; only ten years prior and with absolutely zero leads to bring legitimate justice. He watched the Unsolved Mysteries with Robert Stack episode about the missing kids case. He spent some time speculating with his equally intrigued peers. He went to the library and read local papers from years ago. Ultimately, Mike moved on after a week of obsessing and finding absolutely nothing.
What Mike didn't know, is it would come back to him in the future and he would finally get his answers; but he would find a depth of rot he never would've expected.
It began one night in February of 2004, a few weeks after his 21st birthday. Watching TV with a bowl of ice cream and ended up seeing a re-run of the Unsolved Mysteries episode. He legitimately hadn't cared much for Freddy's in the past seven years, but he knew the place was somehow still open and receiving daily customers after nearly twenty years of bad press and decline in quality.
Mike remembered; Jesse Ramos, a close friend of his, had an ongoing Freddy's obsession he remained quiet about. Mike also remembered the reason he gave up, how difficult it was to do his own sleuthing, and decided he could potentially find things on a website, since the internet had allowed him and others to find information on niches and other topics. He also suspected he could find credible sources since they wouldn't be a teenager telling him "I heard". Of course he'd have to take things with a grain of salt, but he'd seen his fair share of bullshit. He had experience with topics such as the Illuminati, the Annunaki, and other insane plots he never believed, but still found interesting enough to read.
The following day, he called Jesse and asked him if he knew of any websites where he could research Freddy's. Jesse gladly confirmed, and later the same day he handed Mike a paper with a written list of several websites.
"Have fun..." Jesse smugly said as he turned to leave. Mike went to his room, opened his laptop and entered the first URL at the top of the list. When the site opened and his mind processed what he was looking at, he realized the site was dedicated to Freddy's and had a plethora of pages to choose from. Before he knew it, he had explored every site on the list; the first site was Freddy's oriented, while the others were typical conspiracy theory boards with one or two threads about Freddy's.
The sun had gone down. Mike became consumed enough he'd been sitting in the dark after neglecting to turn on his lamp as he normally would. He hadn't stood up from his chair for two hours minimum. His ears had enough of the music playing in them. His need to piss badly forced him to get up; and as he did, everything began running through his mind.
Mike correctly predicted he would find a goldmine, including myths and speculation, but everything else didn't set off his bullshit detector. The websites allowed him to view countless old news articles and court documents; the latter were mostly on the Freddy's-oriented site, ran by some forty-something guy in Los Angeles who obtained them with FOIA requests. The details were far worse and strange than what his old peers told him.
The group abduction on June 26th, 1987, had a botched investigation. That night, the restaurant called the police as soon as the victims' parents reported their disappearance. However, they didn't show up until hours later. The officers publicly stated and wrote in documents that they had done a "thorough search" of the building, but eyewitness accounts claimed otherwise, as apparently the police didn't go to the basement dining room where the children vanished from. The suspect who officers arrested in the hours of dawn was a 35 year old ex-con with a rap sheet of differing offenses and had been out of prison for one year.
Within a year, he went to trial where the judge and jury found him guilty and sentenced him to fifty years in the San Quentin State Prison. It was on the second day of his sentence when he couldn't be found in his cell. A search in and outside the prison was launched, but came up completely empty-handed. He simply went into his cell and vanished into thin air.
And as if the situation wasn't comically horrific enough, a discovery in the early nineties revealed he not only wasn't the suspect, but he hadn't once gone anywhere near Freddy's. The judge and police developed tunnel vision on him and took advantage of public outrage. The real suspect had gotten away.
The pizzeria closed for the summer, but not for the PR reason given to the general public. In actuality, the owners of Fazbear Entertainment wanted the pizzeria to keep running as if nothing happened, and it only closed due to them going under investigation from the local health department, after multiple parents complained about seeing blood, mucus, and other substances oozing from the suits of the animatronics on stage. The investigation lasted only one week, and found no oddities with the animatronics or elsewhere in the building.
Mike found it incredibly bizarre the more he kept thinking. The officers and detectives involved seemed way too incompetent for him to believe; he wondered if maybe they knew something the public didn't or if they were just as clueless. The fact they didn't reach out to the FBI, or vice versa, crossed his mind. He couldn't think of a rational explanation for the falsely convicted suspect vanishing from the face of the Earth, or the literal blood and mucus leaking from the animatronics. He didn't want to think about the horrific reality of the real suspect having gotten away and potentially still walking among the city.
Freddy's re-opened on September 4th, 1987, and had made changes to prevent any similar abductions from happening again; such as closing the basement area and discontinuing the mascot costumes. It seemed like a good re-opening, as the main dining room was bustling with customers watching the main three characters on stage. But as this was happening, they failed to notice the smaller Pirate's Cove stage in the corner, where the fourth character, Foxy, had his own show. Foxy "malfunctioned" and attacked a 21 year old waitress.
Paramedics rushed her to the hospital and managed to save her life, but with the loss of her frontal lobe. Freddy's shut down once again, and it seemed like it would officially be the end, as the shutdown lasted longer than the previous and drove away more potential customers than the abduction did. They eventually reopened in April of 1988, and retired the Foxy character while keeping him in the building in the same exact spot.
However, the timing of the reopening managed to overshadow a more important story; the girl died after seven months in a comatose state. Despite the media suppression, her family didn't give up and instead fought like hell against Fazbear Entertainment, until eventually winning and the court forcing the company to pay an outrageous fine of only five thousand dollars.
Frankie "Fred" Magpie, the original founder of Fazbear Entertainment, stepped down and handed the keys to his business partners, before apparently leaving the city and becoming a complete hermit. Following this, the restaurant began it's slow downward spiral, culminating into their current state.
Mike noticed something which even people on the forums didn't acknowledge. From the late eighties to the present day, many of their employees, mainly night time security guards, disappeared and in typical fashion were never found. The third public instance of people vanishing after having some association with the pizzeria and leaving no breadcrumbs. The majority of these workers had little to no relatives or friends, so their disappearances went completely unnoticed, with the exception of missing persons posters put up by the pizzeria, claiming the employees left the pizzeria and didn't come back in for their next shift without communication.
There were exceptions to these cases; a handful of guards who had folks who advocated for them, and rather quickly. Fazbear Entertainment once again made the exact claim about the guards, however their family and friends corroborated the opposite, saying they seemed to have fallen off the face of the Earth. An investigation into the pizzeria was opened, but ultimately dismissed by the court, their disappearances attributed to "alternative causes" not related to the pizzeria.
Of all things, the missing guard phenomenon made Mike feel nauseous. He hated how nobody talked about it, despite the actual missing persons reports, testimonies, which along with the office politics surrounding the Bite of '87 had painted a clear pattern of Fazbear Entertainment's shadiness.
Mike stepped back to process everything. Days passed. In the coming weeks and soon months, the pizzeria seemed to be getting brought up everywhere he looked. They started airing commercials, which Mike had never once seen or overheard in all of his years in Sacramento; and according to Jesse, who lived in the city his whole life, they hadn't aired since 1987. The commercials also appeared to have been made recently.
Mike's impression of the company became more cynical. Whenever a commercial came up, he'd either mute it and look away, or briefly change the channel. He overheard more and more locals talking about Freddy's; some were gossiping and theorizing the same way his old peers did, and others acting as if nothing even happened, casually talking about bringing their kids. Mike attempted to warn people away from Freddy's, but after being met with patronizing responses and subtle looks of disapproval, he gave up.
Then, on a morning in late June, Mike browsed through the newspaper and found an eye-catching headline.
"Local pizzeria set to close by years end" Per the headline.
He began reading the article, and surprisingly, it was Freddy's. The article didn't explain why Freddy's was closing, only saying the doors would be permanently closed at the end of the year.
Huh... Good fucking riddance then.
He felt little to no emotion from this development; he knew it wouldn't bring any justice for the countless people who had been fucked over, but at least the place would soon cease to be around. Like everybody else who read the article, he simply put the paper down and moved on with his life.
Only one month later, everything changed. July 23rd, 2004, a date Mike wouldn't be able to forget... among others.
While trying to pass time during a boring afternoon, he went through the latest newspaper while sitting at the kitchen bar. He came across an interesting "HELP WANTED!" ad title. Below it, a picture of the Freddy Fazbear animatronic. Next to it, stated:
"Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the night shift. 12 AM to 6 AM. Monitor and ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters. $120 a week. To apply, call: 1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR"
Maybe they'll do a little garage sale while they're at it!
Dumbfounded for the upteenth time. Like the commercials, he hadn't once seen an appearance in the paper, excluding the article he read one month prior. But as he kept staring at the page, a lightbulb blew up in his head.
What if I applied for the job?
Given everything Mike knew about the place and their history of missing security guards, he understood it could be potentially suicidal if he willingly signed up. However, he didn't intend on actually being a guard; for one, he strongly believed the place didn't need an after hours guard to begin with, so if he were to get the position, he likely wouldn't have to do anything, although he felt confident he'd be able to handle a situation if he had to. His true intention was to gain access to the building. He'd be alone and able to go past every restricted door, and maybe find any skeletons in their closets. He didn't expect to find UFO remnants or an interdimensional portal, but he knew something must be hiding in the depths; and this would be the perfect time, otherwise he could wait six months for the closing, then sneak in and find an empty derelict shithole.
Even if he didn't find any secrets, he'd still be able to experience the place before it closed forever. He lived in the city for almost ten years and yet never once went near it.
Better late than never. Could be fun. I'd get to see how things are run around there.
Finally, even though the paycheck was a measley $120, he figured he could use some cash, since he'd been out of a job for a while.
Mike dialed the number on the kitchen phone. It buzzed for almost ten seconds until being picked up.
"Freddy Fazbear's! I'm Jill, how can I help you?" Said the friendly voice of the woman on the other end.
"Hi Jill, I'm calling because I'm curious if this security position is still open." Mike answered.
"Security position?.. Wait, what are you talking about?"
"The night guard job."
An uncomfortably long silence followed from Jill's end. He knew the connection wasn't breaking up, as the silence allowed him to hear faint background noise without issue.
"...Hello?"
"Yes! Sorry about that. Yeah, the night guard position is still available." Jill confirmed.
"Cool! I'm interested in applying." Mike said.
Surprisingly, Mike didn't need to send in an application; Jill only asked him for surface level details such as his full legal name, date of birth, phone number, and home address. Even more surprising, they were able to schedule the job interview for the next day. 2 PM sharp. After hanging up, the quick and easy process sat on his mind.
The next day came faster than expected. Mike did little to no preparation for the interview; he read about how Freddy's seemed to hire the night guard position more than any of the others, and the phone call seemed to confirm it.
Mike didn't have any "professional-looking" clothes, but wanted to come off as somewhat presentable. He put on a white button-up t-shirt, then slipped on his light jeans and black converse he wore every time he left the house. Then a small dab of the cologne he barely used, before running out the door and jumping in his car. After driving about twenty minutes from his place in South Natomas, Mike finally made it to the Freddy's parking lot, pulling into one of the many open parking spaces in front of the building. He brought up his phone, and on the tiny screen, he could make out the time. 1:49.
He stepped out, shut the door and stopped to look at his surroundings.
The area didn't look half bad, but looked dead... or halfway.
Freddy's exterior, while Mike had seen pictures, he finally realized the exterior looked nothing like any kind of pizzeria. It reminded him of a generic storefront. Gray brick walls, a dark gray overhang with pillars giving some shade to the sidewalk. The only way somebody could identify the place, was the giant sign on the front; bold red letters on a white background saying "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza".
The pizzeria had a large parking lot connected to a distant separate lot containing a Subway, a Blockbuster, and an autoparts store. Mike noticed the other lot had significantly more cars than Freddy's. Across the four-lane street he just pulled in from, there were smaller businesses and a dull-looking office supply store; all of the places seemed to be doing just as well as Freddy's, based off their exterior.
Mike tried to shove his feeling down and approached the pizzeria. Upon getting closer, he saw posters placed on the interior side of the windows. Bars on the exterior side. He pushed the door open and felt the cool air as he stepped inside. Straight ahead, a double doorway leading to the dining area. To his left, the far end of the room, he saw a woman sitting at a desk. He approached the desk and noticed the nametag; sure enough, the woman he talked to on the phone. Jill wore a red and white shirt, and sported long curly hair.
"How can I help you?" Jill asked. Her voice sounded as friendly as it did on the phone, but her face told a different story. Mike couldn't tell if she was stoned or just wanted to be somewhere else.
"Name's Mike Schmidt. I'm here for the security interview at 2."
"Oh... yeah. All good. I remember your voice. I'll let them know you're here." Jill again seemed to hesitate after the mention of the security job. Mike remembered and found it odd, but simply thought she might have been awkward.
A few leather couches were up against the wall, so he sat down and looked at a Freddy's magazine to try and pass the time, despite the magazine clearly being for children. He didn't need to pass much time though, as within two minutes, the double doors opened and an older man walked in.
"Mike?"
Mike stood up and faced the man; who's appearance shocked him, but he kept calm. The man towered over Mike; the latter stands at a solid 5'10, but this man had to be at least 6'8, from Mike's guess. Gangly as well. He looked to be in his thirties. He wore a black suit, with a tie of the American flag. Black hair, slicked back with gel. Pale skin, and grayish-blue eyes.
"Hi, I'm Nick Henderson. Just call me Nick, I'm the manager. It's nice to meet you Mike." Nick said as he and Mike shook hands. Nick led Mike into the dining room. Mike glanced around the large room, but too much happened in the short walk. He saw the main three animatronics in the flesh for the first time, and though he only looked at them for a few short seconds, they looked the exact same in the photos but much bigger than he expected. He and Nick walked past the stage, past a "STAFF ONLY" door right next to the stage, then opening a door to it's left labeled "Management".
Before they entered the management office, Mike got a brief glance of the arcade room in front of him. The arcade room appeared to also be drab; having the same dark gray walls, checker banner, and multi-colored checker floor. Kids ran around in the arcade or ate at the tables while watching the animatronics, accompanied by their parents or who seemed to be an older sibling.
Once they entered the management office, Mike immediately realized how much more drab and outdated the office was than the other rooms. Beige walls, dark wooden furniture, yellow cushy chairs, gray carpeted floor that had seen better days, and a ceiling lamp with a faint yellow tint. He thought of it as the most seventies room possible. The two sat down and Nick began asking questions.
"So, what's brought you to wanting to be a night watchman here?" Nick flamboyantly asked.
Mike told a fake story about how Freddy's had been "a really big part" of his childhood, and he wanted to help out before the place closed for good. He wondered if Nick could see through the bullshit, but he seemed to buy it; and so the two bantered back and forth with superficial, torturous small talk. Mike felt like it kept dragging on and on, but he managed to keep up his fake smiles and phony positivity. Eventually, the small talk ended, and the two shook hands again.
"Well welcome to Freddy's family, Mike, because you're hired!" Nick said, once again in the same exaggerated voice.
"You start this Monday at 12 AM!" He told Mike as they stood up to leave.
"Wait... really?"
"Yes! Can you make it?"
"Yeah, just wondering."
"Awesome! You can show up a little early if you'd like. Employees get free pizza, so you can have some 'za if you want!"
"Sounds good, I'll be here tomorrow evening then."
Mike and Nick left the office and walked to the lobby. Mike kept his eyes straight ahead, feeling more focused on getting the hell out. He figured he'd grab a slice or two and maybe get to know some of the other employees before his shift began; then he would use the time to freely explore the building. When in the lobby, Nick decided to formally introduce Mike and Jill.
"Mike, Jill. Jill, Mike." He gestured at the two. Mike and Jill awkwardly glanced at one another.
"He's our new night watchman. He'll be showing up early tomorrow night."
Thankfully, Nick dropped it there, giving Mike a pat on the back with his massive hand and walking presumably into his office. Mike got out of there quick, jumping back in his car and breathing a deep sigh. He checked the time; 2:04. Hadn't been in there long.
How was it that short? Fucking felt like an eternity.
He pulled out of the parking lot and just wanted to go back home to collect himself. During the drive, things dawned on him; things he couldn't pinpoint in his mind at the time. Mike didn't like Nick since the moment they sat down in the office. He was overly polite. The cartoonish, flamboyant tone he needlessly used on certain words or statements. He was like the character Christian Bale played in that "American Psycho" movie. Mike couldn't remember the character's name, but felt the mannerisms and even the looks were similar. Despite being only 21, he had already experienced enough situations to read people from subtle things. He always watched out for people who were too nice. He didn't know exactly what Nick had tucked away, but assumed some kind of hardcore rage.
Mike returned home; pulling up in the driveway of his Aunt Katie's house, his home for the past three years. When he graduated high school, his unmarried parents who split when he was 16, decided to up and leave Sacramento. His father moved to Vegas to pursue a band life, and his mother moved to San Francisco. Mike lived with her after the split, but didn't want to join either of his parents as he'd grown rather sick of the both of them, and also loved Sacramento, so he looked to his fun aunt who'd been supportive of him during the initial drama of the split. Katie lived alone and had a spare bedroom, so she accepted her older sister's son.
Mike walked through the front door and decided to tell her about his new job; except he wouldn't be truthful. She'd be spooked if he told the truth, but he wanted her to not get suspicious about him leaving in the late evening and not returning until morning.
"So how'd it go?" Katie asked. Before he left, he did say he had a job interview, but didn't elaborate.
"I got it... But here's the thing. It's a night shift job, 12 AM to 6 AM. It's at a warehouse, and the position I got seems pretty simple." He hated having to lie to her.
"I don't plan on working there too long. Just wanted to keep you in the loop since I'm gonna be nocturnal for a while."
"Well... I guess it's worth the hours if it's a simple job. When are you starting?" Katie asked.
"Tomorrow night. Yeah. I didn't expect that. I think they're short staffed or... something."
"Damn... Well, I hope it all goes well." She wasn't a stranger to these talks; Mike had many different odd jobs ever since moving in, and even without the jobs, he often was out of the house anyway. Likely why the lie worked.
That night, Mike stayed up until the late morning. He didn't plan to work longer than the first week, but he knew it would destroy his sleep schedule by then. He told himself he'd cross that bridge when it comes. He woke up at 6 PM and got pulled together; picking the same outfit as he did for the interview, but putting on his dark leather jacket. His dad gifted it to him when he visited his house in Vegas two years prior. It'd help with the cold air inside, especially since he'd be there all night. Nick had told him the night guards didn't have much of a dress code. Mike grabbed his single strap backpack from high school, and stuffed in some things he could occupy himself with if he got bored. He quickly ate a granola bar and ran out the door.
Mike pulled into the Freddy's parking lot and noticed a surprising amount of cars in it. He got out, slung the bag over himself and walked in. He and Jill exchanged handwaves before he entered the dining room. They indeed were having a busy night; multiple kids sitting at the rows of tables, watching the three animatronics performing on stage. Mike himself couldn't help but stop to look.
Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, were silent and stiff as they "performed". Eighties pop and rock playing on the stage speakers made up for the silence. Yellow and pink lights shined on the characters. Bonnie's arms didn't move, occupied by a large red guitar which also stayed silent. His right hand motioned up and down on the lower part of it. Freddy only held a microphone and did the most motion. Chica held a plated cupcake with a face on it. All of them remained blank-faced, but had "eyelids" which blinked every couple of seconds. The prior day was Mike's first time seeing them in person, but now he had a better look at them, and they certainly looked more uncanny in person than the pictures and videos. Part of him felt disappointed and fortunate for having missed out on the short-lived era where they walked around the restaurant.
The music abruptly cut off and the robots went into what Mike assumed to be an "idle" position; then Freddy announced an intermission.
"B-b-b-break time ev-ev-eryone! My friends and I w-w-will be back shortly." His voice breaking as he spoke. His jaw moved but the upper half of his face didn't. A large red curtain quickly closed shut.
This completely flabbergasted Mike. He read about how they had voices and even heard one in an archived commercial, but he thought the voices were discontinued a long time ago. And of course, the stuttering.
Why even let that play if it's gonna sound all fucked up?
He knew nothing about robotics, so he chalked it up to maybe an issue the technicians couldn't take care of; if they even had technicians. His thoughts were cut off by a tap on his shoulder. It happened so fast he couldn't pretend to not be shocked. He turned around and came face to face with a man who looked to be in his late forties. Bald on top, with short graying hair on the sides. Blue eyes, and stood at what may have been 5'4. He wore a black suit with a familiar American flag tie.
"Oh- I'm sorry. Are you Mike?"
"Yep. Mike Schmidt, showing up early tonight." Mike reached for his wallet to get his ID, but the man gestured him not to.
"Kevin Gray, assistant manager. Nice to meet you son!" Kevin said as they shook hands.
"Nick went home a couple hours ago, he wanted me to give you these." He handed Mike a ring with multiple keys on it, pointed at a few keys and explained what they do; just basic locks such as the front door and some employee only rooms. He claimed the other keys "weren't important" which began kicking some gears in Mike's brain. Mike held the keys and kept a blank face as Kevin kept talking his ear off. Mike would try saying something, but Kevin always cut him short and clearly wasn't listening. It got worse when he started speaking in an exaggerated southern drawl. He let Mike go, but not before giving him a heavy smack on the arm and laughing like a cartoon character as he walked off. Mike stood frozen, key's still in hand. He had so many questions.
Mike put the keys in his bag, headed toward the break room door, which sat near the kitchen, and pushed it open. The break room looked completely different from the other rooms; white walls, a fluorescent ceiling light, white linoleum floor, and one barred-up window. A tiny room, but it managed to fit a round table and a basic counter.
A man wearing all black was leaned up against one of the walls with a cup of coffee. The man, Hank, introduced himself. Hank, 36, had been working as a dayshift guard for a couple years. He asked Mike about his role, and went completely stone-faced when Mike said "night watchman".
Hank grabbed a pen and note, writing something on it and handing it to Mike.
"Here's my phone number. If anything happens, call me. Alright?" He leaned in and switched to a hushed tone of voice, as if the walls had ears.
"What do you mean?" Mike too spoke in a hushed tone as he took the note.
Hank visibly hesitated before whispering. "Well, get this, right? Real late at night, things around here get kinda fucky. You seem like a good kid and I'd really hate if-" the break room door swung open and startled them both.
An employee walked in and Hank greeted him with a casual "hey" as if the conversation hadn't even happened. When the employee stopped at the counter, Mike and Hank exchanged expressions of mutual understanding, silently agreeing not to talk about it again; or at least not at the pizzeria.
Hank tried breaking the tension. "You know we get free pizza? Whaddya say we get a couple slices since it's your first day?"
Mike agreed, and the two stood up and headed to the kitchen.
To Mike's surprise, the kitchen looked to be in good condition, likely cleaned up and down every single day. They also used authentic pizza ovens. Mike and Hank stood off to the side to not be in the way of the chefs. One of them, a calm-looking young man named Phillip, asked the two for their order. Coincidentally, they wanted the same thing; a large cheese and pepperoni. Phillip grabbed some dough, and within twenty minutes, a large pie came out. Mike and Hank returned to the break room, the slices sitting on paper plates with the character's faces on them. Mike brought a cup of root beer, Hank still had his coffee.
While eating, they talked about some eighties movies they both enjoyed. Mike observed something about Hank's demeanor; cheerful and laid-back, but not a patronizing weirdo, unlike Nick and Kevin. Hank actually treated him like a human being, not like some idiotic child. The conversation felt like a breath of fresh air, like having a chat with a funny uncle at a barbeque. Eventually, after eating, Hank stood up to clock out.
"Have a nice night bud. Stay safe." Hank told him before leaving. Mike washed his hands and left the break room to try killing some time before the place closed. Two and a half hours left to go.
Mike curiously approached the empty area where the discontinued Pirate's Cove stage remained. A large purple curtain with star patterns covered the stage, and in front of it, a wooden sign with "SORRY! OUT OF ORDER" etched in. He squinted in attempt to see through the small gap of the curtains, but only saw pure darkness. He turned around and went to the soda machine to refill his cup, pouring an orange soda instead. He took a sip as he turned, and almost choked when he saw the person who apparently materialized from thin air, standing only about five feet away.
A man of an indeterminate age; either in his thirties or twenties, but having aged horribly either way. He stood the same height as Mike, if not just one inch taller, with light brown hair reaching to his shoulders, hazel eyes, and a mustache only seen on stereotypical creeps. He wore a blue denim jacket over a button-up white shirt, finished with black adidas sweatpants and boots clearly meant for winter, as they had visible fur in them. Faintly smelled of cigarettes too. Mike noticed a nametag hastily stuck to one of the jacket pockets; Fritz.
"I'm Fritz. You the new night guy?" He said in a deadpan voice.
"Sure am. Name's Mike." The two shook hands, but Fritz had a strong grip which only relinquished when Mike yanked his hand away.
"I saw you over there by Foxy. What do ya know about him?"
"I know quite a bit. What do you know?" Mike said with some attitude, trying to give him a hint to fuck off. But Fritz either didn't understand, or just didn't care.
"Well, I used to be night guy too. Foxy's an interesting fella, I spent some time with hi-" Mike cut him off.
"I'm sorry, I gotta hit the bathroom real quick." He half-lied about this. He wanted to just get away, but also needed to wash his hands after touching those cold smoker hands. Who knows where they'd been. As he walked to the bathroom, he felt Fritz' eyes glued on his back. Mike went in, coated his hands with soap and ran them under hot water. He repeated this two more times. Thankfully, the creep didn't follow him. Mike left the bathroom, scanned the big room, and didn't see any sign of him.
Mike brushed off the strange encounter, heading to the soda machine to get a brand new cup. He leaned against one of the walls near Pirate's Cove, and he had some realizations about the decor. Drab and outdated. Looked like nothing had been changed since the early nineties. He also found some of the layout choices incredibly bizarre; such as the two "staff only" hallways connected to the dining room, seemingly going on forever as he looked down them. He looked at the floor and noticed the inconsistent colors with the checker style; most of the floor in the dining room had a specific tone of red and blue, which hurt to look at. Some floors had black and white checkers, or black and blue, which felt more pleasing on the eyes.
Some time passed and he stopped thinking about the old and strange decor. He even forgot about Fritz. And all because a different person amidst the crowd caught his eye.
Across the dining room, he saw a young woman, also a guard, standing near an empty table and looking at the animatronics. She wore dark shoes and pants, topped off with a white button-up and a visible yellow badge next to her black tie. Blonde hair in a ponytail, pale, and of an indeterminate height due to the distance. Arms crossed as she watched the stage and presumably the crowd. Mike saw her face, the way she carried herself, something about her grabbed his attention.
She's cute. Looks serious. Really seems to know what she's doing...
He found himself staring at her, contemplating if he should approach or leave her alone; he had experiences with girls in the past, but never from work. 'Don't shit where you eat' and other slogans.
Mike snapped out of his trance when the girl unexpectedly turned around and walked away to somewhere. He whipped his head to the side as if he weren't just staring, and felt a deal of shame even though she didn't see him.
God damn it... I'm so fucking retarded.
She clearly wasn't a new hire; Mike wondered how many times she might have encountered Fritz or other creeps at the pizzeria, and now here he was, in the corner ogling her. He brought his head up and his thoughts instantaneously changed when he saw something unmistakable.
Bonnie, the blue-ish purple bunny, had his eyes locked onto Mike. His torso and guitar-hand were moving, but his head remaining frozen and looking directly at Mike. He stared back at the blank eyes for what felt like an eternity, before putting his head down and going to refill his cup again. When he turned around with the refill, he noticed Bonnie had gone back to the usual performance.
Mike turned to the break room. He thought he may have been overwhelmed by all the noise and lights. When he got halfway to the break room door, he almost ran into somebody. He looked at the person to apologize, but came face to face with the girl from moments ago, now wearing a black jacket and holding her purse. Now closer, he saw she wasn't much shorter than him. He couldn't tell if her eyes were blue or green.
Oh god, she's even prettier up close.
"Shit- Sorry! Uh, not to keep you here or anything, but my name's Mike Schmidt. It's my first day." He tried making some small talk; and not the type he'd been subjected to by Nick and Kevin. A smile cropped up on her face.
"All good. Vanessa Shelly." She initiated the handshake.
"So what are you doing here?"
"I'm the new night guard, decided to come in early." Mike saw the look in her eyes flip after a few seconds; as if her brain did a double-take. Her expression went from calm and interested, to deer-in-headlights.
"You okay?"
Vanessa immediately recollected herself.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just... Be careful." She walked past him, but turned around for a brief moment.
"The security office down the hall is where you clock in." She turned back and walked through the double doors of the lobby.
The fuck is up with the people here?
Mike looked back at the stage and saw "it" again. Except... Chica was doing it.
Fuck this.
Mike got to the break room as originally intended, sitting down with a new plate of pizza slices. The problem wasn't the lights and noise, but they certainly weren't helping. After seeing both robots doing "it", he knew right there it couldn't have been coincidental. Couldn't have been faulty tech or stress caused by lack of sleep. Then he thought of the strange behavior of everybody he interacted with. Nick and Kevin weren't his first time encountering middle-aged pricks like them, but they seemed to be on another level.
Two days prior, he thought nothing when Jill went quiet on the phone after he mentioned the night guard job. Then, when he mentioned it to Hank and Vanessa, they looked horribly affected. Mike wondered if maybe it was part of an elaborate prank, but their reactions came across as too authentic. He thought of how Hank and Vanessa spoke in a hushed way and offered zero elaboration, and imagined an image of employees possibly being "punished" for talking about the night shift rumors. He then remembered how some of the missing employees weren't even night guards, and his speculation went to a spot which shook him to his core.
Mike stuffed his face with pizza in attempt to suppress the sinking feeling. He sat completely alone in the break room, listening to the noise of customers become quieter and quieter, until eventually the only noise was the music, which soon abruptly cut off. He stepped out and immediately noticed a lighting change; the colored lights were off and replaced by the ceiling's fluorescent lights, which weren't on during the show hours. The animatronics were frozen, aligned to be facing straight ahead. He saw no customers, only a few janitors walking around with bins and brooms. One walked up the rows of tables sweeping away. Another came from the arcade with a full garbage bag.
Mike once stood near the soda machine, and let out a faint sigh once realizing he'd been near the damn thing several times already. He'd never been in a public place after closing hours, so it felt odd to observe the janitors cleaning while knowing he would be left behind until sunrise. It brought up an old memory he hadn't thought of in a long time; when he was a kid in elementary school and had a great fear of being forgotten by the buses.
I'm acting like a fucking crybaby. I'm old enough to get a beer.
He told himself to commit to just one night. At least one. He came this far. And the basement, the abandoned basement where the missing children's incident happened, laid right below his feet. He had an endless set of keys to try out, and he'd get to experience spaces he otherwise wouldn't have. He took a long breath in, and out through his nostrils. The janitors finished cleaning, and shortly after, they and the chefs began leaving one by one. He felt the same, albeit slightly alleviated as he tried fighting the anxiety. This progress went back to square one when the last employee, a chef, approached him.
"Take care of yourself bro. Get out, you still got time." The chef wasn't quiet, but spoke fast. He speedwalked to the lobby, and Mike heard the front doors slamming shut.
He remained up against the wall, almost paralyzed. He just felt the utter silence, ignoring the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. He looked at the three animatronics and thankfully, they hadn't locked eyes on him.
"No turning back now, I guess." Mike blurted out to himself. He knew shit was about to get real, and the only way to know would be to live it.