Hello There! This is my first fanfiction, and as said in the summary, was an assignment for one of my school classes. This will most likely be my only fanfiction for a while, as I did not intend to make this a fanfiction, and don't have much time to write as often as I'd like to. Five Nights At Freddy's is owned by Scott Cawthon, while the character whose perspective we view from is an OC, and actually a character from other stories I've written (which can be found on Wattpad under the same username as this one) Without further ado, please enjoy...

The Bite of 1987:

I remember the entire thing. Every last detail of that day in 1987. We were on vacation in Wisconsin, and we would be going to the famous "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." I was so excited, as this was where I would be having my birthday party, and at the time I couldn't think of a better place to spend it.

Well, besides home of course.

As we walked in, the first thing I noticed was a strange form in the corner of the main restaurant and play room. Above it was a sign reading "Kid's Corner: Play with The Mangle! Take him apart and put him back together in new ways!"

Its name seemed fitting, as it was what looked to be a metal endoskeleton with an attached head, two hands and one foot. The colors of the pieces were a cream white with pinkish-red accents, and one of its eyes were missing. What scared me the most was its large jaw that hung open loosely, where it bared sharp metal teeth that look as if they could bite through a human without trying. Looking at the head again, I found "Mangle" to be staring at me with its one dark eye, causing me to shrink away and hide behind my father's legs. After the preparations and reservations were filled out, my parents, my friends, their parents and I filed into the entertainment area.

Inside were a plethora of games and activities like the usual skeeball, water cannons you would shoot clowns with, and various game cabinets like Asteroid, Pong, Pac-Man, Centipede, Galaga, and Polybius. The room was surprisingly very clean, unlike other pizza themed restaurants with kids that were 8 and under running around everywhere which were filled with screaming kids and pizza stains on the floor. The children who were already there seemed rather mature for their age, and were obviously raised well.

Except for one kid.

One child was what appeared to be the epitome of brattiness. Kicking, screaming, being a jerk overall to his parents. His face and shirt were smothered in cake and pizza grease, and he was slightly overweight for his age. His pudgy arms were crossed tightly across his chest, and he had a birthday crown on his head. Obviously he was spoiled and was angry at not getting what he wanted.

His parents looked distressed and were trying to calm him down, which only resulted in more kicking and screaming from the brat. The man who looked to be the boy's father said something to him, and suddenly he stopped. The brat's brow furrowed as he nodded angrily and began making his way to the Kid's Corner, where "Mangle" was. At this point my mother and father, as well as the parents of my friends, had released us to play for the 20 minutes until the main celebration. Intrigued and curious as to what the bratty child would do in Kid's Corner, I proceeded to the closest activity to the corner.

Fortunately for me, no other children were in the area where the bratty child and I were, allowing me to observe freely and without distraction. I quickly found the game closest to Kid's Corner, which happened to be Polybius. The bratty kid did nothing, and simply sat and stared at "Mangle" with his pudgy, puffy arms still crossed tightly across his chest. He sat like this for five minutes before suddenly erupting into the worst fit I had ever seen. The child began yelling at Mangle, before beginning to dismantle him with little regard for caution. He tore each piece from the main body before banging a piece on the floor or wall. With his pudgy little fist he began pounding and banging on Mangle's head, and a small groan was heard over the noise of the child, as well as a distorted radio signal. The mother and father arrived at the scene after about 2 minutes, to which I noticed a small crowd had gathered around. The father scooped up the screaming child as the mother apologized to the crowd, as well as the staff especially for banging up the pieces of Mangle. The crowd quickly dispersed, all except for one member of the staff who stayed behind. He stared at Mangle, and I could see a curious and creative look in his eye. He approached the pile of pieces, picking each up and observing the ends where the pieces connected. He quickly noticed the dents in the pieces, and got up to get something. He returned half of a minute later with a hammer in hand, and began lightly banging out the dents the bratty child had made. Within 5 minutes, the pieces were in normal condition, almost as good as new.

I watched in awe as he skillfully pieced together arms, legs, and the head as if he had been working on and putting together animatronics all his life. In less than 10 minutes, he had finished putting together a somewhat humanoid version of a fox, aside from his cream white color and "rosy cheeks." He stood up and admired his creation, and walked away with a proud look on his face. I approached this new animatronic, gazing in amazement and observing its new style and form. The length of his body rounded up to about 8 feet, and he looked as if he was now bipedal, with no spare limbs anywhere. Behind him, I spotted a large eyepatch and hook attachment. I then noticed the fact that Mangle had only one hand, prompting me to place the hook hand over the arm that was missing its hand. I also noticed his lack of another eye, and so I took the eyepatch as well and put it over his head. This look now looked somewhat natural, as if it was meant to have been built like this in the first place, causing me to sigh in awe in its unnatural beauty. I stroked its head, before quickly retracting my hand as I heard a sound again emit from the mouth of the animatronic. It was then that I heard my parents calling me back to our table, as well as the parents of my friends. It was cake time.

As I walked towards the table, I heard the sound of metal scraping against metal, and the squeaking noise of unlubricated gears. I looked back to see Mangle, now stood up, staring past me in the direction of the bratty kid. His gaze then averted from past me to directly at me, prompting me to spin around, fearful as to what would happen if I were to make eye contact with it.

I reached the table, noticing the numerous colorful gift boxes, some big and some small, as well as the balloons tied to the chair at the end of the table. I then noticed a large festive cake, reading "Happy 7th Birthday Dylan!" I was then led by my mother to the balloon-decorated seat, meaning that it was for the birthday child. I sat down, when an uneasy feeling suddenly entered my stomach. I instinctively looked towards the Kid's Corner, where Mangle no longer was, but instead housed a sign reading "IT'S ME." I then looked around, and found Mangle walking towards the bratty child, who was having another fit most likely over not being the center of attention. My father came and lit the candles as everyone began singing.

Happy birthday to you….

Mangle neared the bratty kid.

Happy birthday to you….

His long, lanky metallic arms reached out to the child and lifted him out of his seat.

Happy birthday dear Dlyan…

Mangle's jaws opened wide as he brought the child's head to his mouth, as a disgusted look found its way to my face.

Happy birthday to-

Loud shrieks of terror filled the restaurant and blood splattered everywhere as Mangle's jaws snapped closed on the bratty kid's head with its razor sharp metal teeth. I turned to look at the scene, and what I saw horrified me.

Mangle's mouth dripped with blood, as a piece of flesh covered in hair sat in his large, cavernous mouth. Underneath the flesh was a chunk of pink, and as I looked to the child, I realized what it was.

A portion of his brain, and his cranial cap, were gone.

I did not vomit, though my stomach churned and my eyes burned with tears as the image imprinted itself into my mind. It was a very different story for most of the parents, however.

My mother was bent over, gripping her knees and vomiting , while my dad was on his hands and knees in a fit of coughing and gagging. Other parents still stood there, paralyzed in shock and fear, screaming, while others had grabbed their children and ran.

Paramedics and police were quickly alerted, while the staff member who built the new Mangle shot like a bolt towards Mangle, a neutral but somewhat satisfied look on his face. In spite of these details, he ripped off Mangle's head with little regard for fragility and disconnected the wires from the body.

The now deactivated Mangle collapsed limply on the ground in a jumble of animatronic pieces, and the staff member who built him fell to his knees. A loud sobbing noise sounded out from him, but his face held a look of pure joy.

Emergency services arrived rather quickly, and the boy was carried away on a stretcher, a blanket wrapped over him. The police burst through the door with guns at the ready and batons raised, prepared for whatever the threat was. They quickly began questioning people, and going to people asking whether they were okay. A number of the officers were sent in search of Mangle, after they questioned the mother of the child who had been bitten. However, they were too late, as 5 minutes earlier I had witnessed the certain staff member drag Mangle into a back room, after which he did not return. I was not questioned, nor was any other member of my party.

I said nothing the entire time.

The event of course made it on the nightly news, not only locally but nationally, eventually growing internationally. Rumors arose of the restaurants destined closure, and within less than a week, it did. The building that held the restaurant was condemned and left to rot, but the restaurant equipment, such as tables, chairs, technology, and all other essentials, were removed from the restaurant by the owner, with the help of a moving service. Everything, aside from the animatronics; Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course, the newest addition:

Mangle.

In the weeks following the event and the restaurants closure, news arose that the victim had miraculously survived, via experimental frontal lobe transplant and scalp replacement. An interview with the child was conducted by the Wisconsin news team, and his behavior seemed altered.

Much more respectful, polite, and not as prone to fits or rude. He was, however, slightly disturbed and seemed shaken. Of course who wouldn't be, having been maimed by a something that was meant to be friendly and entertaining to children. He commented at the end of the interview, "I'll never forget Foxy," rather than using the name Mangle. He also commented that he would never forget it.

And neither did I.

For these 27 years, I have never forgotten a single detail of that day, nor did I forget anything that I saw. I live in Washington now, with my beloved wife and 3 children, one who aspires to be a writer, and has recently suffered from a bad fall, which has resulted in a hospital stay for him. Freddy Fazbear's (now Pizzeria) has reopened for a third time, this time in Tacoma, Washington. The original animatronics have now reappeared and are being used at the restaurant, and no mention has been made of their previous disappearance. Mangle was pieced back together, and named Foxy, supposedly after his fox-like appearance, though I don't buy it. I believe that the name was taken from the child's interview.

The reopening of Freddy's, ironically, was a life saver for me, as I have recently been fired, and would have been unemployed if not for the "Help Wanted" ad in the paper. The job?

Night Security.

Tonight is my first night at this job. In fact, even as I sit here writing, or rather typing, I am here at the restaurant. My shift begins in less than a minute, and I have the monitor set to the camera feed from the new "Pirate's Cove" attraction, where a source has told me that Foxy now resides. I can see him already, peering through the curtains with two illuminated eyes, his jaw still hung open like then, but he now has a redesign, notably lacking rosy cheeks, having a brown-red color rather than creamy white, and a clean costume. I have been here for hours, and my clock has been stuck at 11:59 for a while now. I sit here waiting for him, and finally, I hear a creaking noise down the hall to my left.

Hello, Dylan.

Fin