A/N: I should be writing more for All For All but I wanted to write this instead.
This is a mixture of "the animatronics have their own personality" and "the animatronics are possessed" theories. THEIR UPDATES HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH FNAF 2. FNAF 2 is completely disregarded in this fic, sorry.
This takes place in modern times.
Summary: After the animatronics are updated with modern technology and sleeker suits, Mike begins getting strange messages on his phone begging for help at all hours of the day.
Diclaimer: I own nothing.
Mike Schmidt sighed as he sat in his seat, boredly watching the animatronics through the security cameras. It was nearly six o'clock AM and they hadn't moved even once. It had been a very quiet, unusual night for Mike.
Of course he knew it was because they were shut off. They couldn't move even if they wanted to.
The animatronics didn't look like what they used to though. They had new endoskeletons, new sleeker, fluffier, cleaner suits, they were shorter and not nearly as clunky or sharp as before… even Foxy's parts had been replaced and he looked good as new, with his rubber teeth and plastic metal-painted hook.
Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria had been about to shut down. They were just a few weeks away from closing their doors permanently when they got a sudden large donation with a simple note- fix the animatronics- from an anonymous source.
The manager, Simon Canthorn, had decided to shut down while the animatronics were being fixed and or replaced. It had been nearly two months of nonstop work and they were finally finished.
Apparently, or so Mike had been told, everything on their old outdated memory chips had been downloaded onto a newer, smaller chip that took up less space in the "brain" of the animatronics, so their "personality" and "knowledge" would not be messed up. They even had updated AI, so they could communicate better- more naturally, Mr. Canthorn said. So they seemed like they were actually alive.
Mike thought it was stupid, but he wasn't about to argue with his boss. He was sure they could easily be reprogrammed, but with their old "personality", Mike knew they would still be out to get him. It was just a matter of when they would be turned back on.
The clock chimed six, so he shut down his tablet and picked his jacket up. "I wonder if they'll be smarter about trying to get me," he wondered aloud to himself as he walked down the hall, glancing at Pirate's Cove as he passed. He paused. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw the curtain flutter and… a child's laughter.
Not a sweet child's laugh, either. More like a bully child's taunting laugh as she holds a smaller girl's teddy bear over her head.
"Hey, is anyone here?" he called out, a bit irritated. My shift is over, dammit. "The pizzeria's not open yet."
The child's laughter returned, sounding louder. It sounded like it was right next to Mike, but when Mike looked, no one was there. More children's laughter joined the first- what sounded like another girl and three little boys. They seemed to come closer to Mike, but no matter where Mike looked he couldn't see anything.
The young man felt cold suddenly. Like a sharp autumn wind was bearing down on him from all directions. It's February, Mike, of course it's cold, he told himself, but then he noticed he couldn't move.
It felt like there were hands on his arms. Five small pairs, reaching up and trying to tug him down. The laughter began getting deeper and slower, until it resembled Freddy Fazbear's laughter, and Mike suddenly couldn't breathe.
His heart beat quickly and he felt like he was suffocating. I'm going crazy! he thought to himself, but he still couldn't force himself to move. He was being pulled to the ground, he could feel it, and he couldn't-
Then the front doors swung open and Canthorn's voice called out, "Mr. Schmidt! I expect everything went smoothly tonight?"
The laughter was gone. The small hands on his arms had disappeared, and he could breathe again. Mike turned to Mr. Canthorn, eyes wide and breathing deeply, then quickly walked towards the doors. "Yea, smoothly. Definitely, sir. Yea."
Mr. Canthorn stared at Mike for several moments before dismissing his strange behavior. "Alright, son, go on home. I'll see you tonight. I'll let you know now, they're being turned on and tested today- we'll see how things go tonight, hm?"
"Of course…" Mike practically ran out to his car. Nothing like this had happened before.
He didn't want to go back, but he needed the extra $120 the night job gave him. He pulled into the parking lot and took a deep breath. It was 11:30, thirty minutes before his shift.
Mike got out of his car and headed inside the pizzeria, noticing the manager was still there looking onstage at the band. "Mr. Canthorn?"
Mr. Canthorn looked at Mike and grinned. "They work like a charm, Mike, isn't it great?"
"I suppose so," Mike agreed, though really he didn't agree at all. Even updated to be smaller and more child-friendly, they still looked creepy as hell to him.
On stage, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were smiling their usual smiles, their hinges less noticeable and their joints better covered. They gazed blankly at the empty tables, ready to walk for the first time.
Ready to kill for the first time in their new bodies.
Mike shuddered at the thought. "Goodnight, Mr. Canthorn," he muttered as he made his way to the back office. Mr Canthorn glanced at the time, shut the power down, and headed out to his own vehicle, locking the door on his way out.
Mike dropped down into his seat and sighed, pulling his phone out to observe the exact time.
11:35. He still had twenty-five minutes until his shift and until the animatronics' free-range mode would activate. In that time he decided to play one of his mobile games, where he could keep an eye on the time and play at the same time.
Before he could open the game app, he got a text. The number simply read;
61854425.
"That's… not a valid number," Mike immediately noticed, counting the digits. "The hell?"
He was about to ignore the text, but curiosity got the best of him. He opened it up, hoping his phone wasn't about to explode, but in the message there was one simple word;
Sorry.
Mike furrowed his brow. "Sorry for what?" he mumbled, then another text sounded off. He looked at the number.
38931. An even stranger number… He opened the text.
It read; We don't want this.
"Want what?" Mike furrowed his brow and glanced around. How was this person doing this?
Another text message arrived, this time from the longest number so far; 215141495.
We can't help it.
Mike was starting to become freaked out. "Help what?!"
His phone pinged again. Another unfamiliar, strange number; 6152425. He almost dreaded to read it, but he clicked on it anyway.
They have control at night.
"Who? What is this? What's going on?" Mike glaced around, looking for any cameras. "Am I being pranked? How?"
The phone pinged again. It was a different number again, just as strange as the others. 715124514.
PlEAsE HeLP uS .
If you can guess where the numbers come from you'll get a cookie :D