'In restless dreams I stood alone, faced on all sides by hate and regret; my thoughts one tired idea after another and here I sit, to wilt and die all alone.'
- Unknown
(A/N: Hello, everyone. I'm still fairly new to Fanfiction and decided to try my hand at it more. Feel free to drop a comment, constructive criticism is always welcome!)
"Goddamnit, Schmidt! I know you're in there! Answer the door!"
Saturday, no, Monday? My mind rang as my small, one bed-room apartment steadied into focus. Still in a post binge of alcohol, my stupor sloshed my brain, each sense sluggishly reacted to the sounds coming from my front door.
"Mike Schmidt! Your rent is late, and I know your ass doesn't have anything to show for it!" The voice persisted as my legs swung over the edge and all at once, the previous night hit me. "Open up!" My situation; the reality of it all crashing down around me: life, rent; ah, how I could sleep longer. Head pounding, I grumbled and my feet met the cold, weak ground below.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first million times." I said slowly, making sure not to jam my toe against the side of my bedpost. My hand reached for the knob as the other braced the side of my head, the door opening enough for me to see the man behind it; my landlord: Mr. Jamison. "Damnit, Mike. How many times I gotta kick down your door?" He paused, taking in the shambled wreck-look I'd come to rely on this early in the morning. "Heh, you look like shit, Mike. Sleep alright?"
I rolled my eyes and jokingly nodded, immediately regretting doing so as my mind pounded back in retaliation. "Yeah.." I said, watching his beady, blue eyes soften. The smell of his cheap cologne and torn wife-beater top assaulting my senses. "Rent's due, Mikey Boy. Word through the grape vine is, you ain't gotta job." His foot getting between the doorway and the door. "Yeah, about that," I spoke softly, wondering if I had enough change to buy a cheap pair of shades. "I actually have work tonight, Mr. Jamison." I added, causing a sly smirk to grow across his lips.
"Oh? And may I ask where?" He squinted a bit as he spoke, either trying to see if I was telling the truth or seeing if he could pester me about the state of my apartment. Rubbing my neck, I let out a sigh and sheepishly said, "At Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." To my dismay (and somewhat relief), this elicited a strong laugh from him, he held his sides before speaking. "You? As what? A fluffy little mascot for all the kiddies? Ghahahah!" My head shook and I cleared my throat, "No, actually. I'm just the night security guard in fact." I replied, keeping my tone neutral out of fear he'd actually come back with the sheriff this time. He caught his breath and eyed me again, his mood suddenly changing, he stiffened and rubbed his chin.
"You got any proof? I'm a charitable man, ya know. Might even hold off on eviction 'til you get paid." He glared and crossed his arms, impatiently tapping his foot expectantly at me. "Yeah, sure. Gimmie a sec." I said and with that, I shut the door and turned, exhaling in relief before walking over to my pile of clothes; searching for my new work shirt with the schedule. After a couple of seconds of rifling through the pile of clothes, I found it: 'Freddy Fazbear Security', security being spelled in a tinge of golden yellow. Grabbing the paper from the small chest pocket, I tossed the shirt back down and headed back to the front, unfolding the paper before opening the door.
"Here," I said, handing him the paper, "I start tonight at twelve." He grabbed it and began analyzing it, looking top to bottom of it, even flipping it over once or twice. "Fine." He suddenly spoke with a look of disappointment on his face, "You got another week to get me my money, got it?" He said and tossed the paper back at me.
"Anything else, Mr. Jamison?" I slowly asked, the headache beginning to get more and more irritating and unbearable. He shook his head and grumbled, flipping through a small notebook he had, more than likely to harass some other tenant or make slipshod repairs for the woman in B five. "No, remember; one week. Have a nice, ehh," He paused to check his watch, "afternoon, ." At that, the beetle of a man turned and walked down the dimly lit hallway of his building. I shut the door and groaned, picking up the paper from the ground and setting it on the kitchen counter. Did he say afternoon? My eyes looked to my bed clock and confirmed what my brain was slow to comprehend - I was almost late for my orientation.
"Shit!" I said aloud, scrambling to gather what I'd need for my first night at the pizzeria. My mind shifted from drunken stupor to sloppy checklist: Wallet? Check. Keys? Check. Cigarettes? Almost out. Aside from that, I had also been trying to map out the shortest route to the place, throughout my sobering rush, I nearly forgot the damned schedule. I then moved to grab my clothes and hurriedly rushed to get dressed, heading to the bathroom to try and make myself somewhat presentable (that and to not smell like something an animal wouldn't eat).
A short while later (and a face full of razor burn) I was out the door and down the hall in record speed, occasionally glancing at my watch. The cool air outside hitting my sensitive face, sounds of horns and traffic, and the sweet scent of burning tobacco made my nerves calm down somewhat. I rushed to the parking lot and got in my car, pulling out and heading onto the street, hoping my brain would produce the directions to my new job. Thankfully, traffic was surprisingly light and I made it to the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria in around twenty minutes, just in time to find one of the last parking spots.
I shut my car off and stepped out, looking around to some of the people that my new job would attract. As I made my way to the entrance, the sights and sounds inside made me sigh and suck my pride up; how'd my life get to such a new low? Ah well, I thought, better than working at Wal-Mart. Making my way inside, the harsh, shrill sound of children yelling stung my ears. Ranging from cries fueled by overly sugary soda to pleas for more tokens; ah, childhood. Ahead of me was a family of three, their little girl impatiently hopping up and down to try and get a glimpse of the interior.
At the small pedestal (overlooking the entrance), a rather bored looking woman was busy stamping the hands of each customer and giving the same greeting that sounded permanently imprinted in memory.
Soon, as the last family passed the pedestal, I looked to her with a slight chuckle and motioned to the tiny badge sewn on my shirt. "Hi, there. Name's Mike. Do you know where the manager's office is?" I said as her face relaxed, almost looking relieved that I wasn't just another giddy kid or grumpy parent.
"Sure, Mike. Just go past the arcade and hang a left, office is right there." She smiled as I nodded towards her and passed the pedestal. As I was about to enter the arcade, she spoke, "Oh, Mike?"
"Yeah?" I said, turning around to meet her gaze. "Name's Kelly, and, good luck on your first night." A smile formed across my lips as I waved and turned again, "Thanks, Kelly. Have a good one." Well, how about that? My mind pondered, hopefully the manager is that pleasant.
Shaken from my thoughts as the room dimmed, looking around to all the parents and kids sitting at the tables in front of the stage, I wondered what was going on. My eyes flew to my watch and saw that it was only two minutes before I had to start; walking past the islands of tables, I found the end of the arcade and passed by the dining area, just enough to see the curtains being cast aside to reveal the band on stage. Ahead, at the far end of the hallway, was the office. As I walked, I noted the old checker-patterned tile; some pieces cracked or stained. The walls a drab mish-mash of odd purples and grays, and a plethora of posters and blurbs for the band adorned everywhere.
Oddly, only one poster was different and it was at the end of hall, near the door. It showed a golden version of the bear on stage, though, it looked nothing like the others, let alone the bear. Pinpricked eyes swallowed by a sea of black sockets, the head tilted and the subtle sound of a heartbeat. Mine? I shook my head and chalked it up to still getting over last night, and after a quick couple of seconds (popping the last two breath mints I had) of preparation, the door opened and I saw my boss sitting at his desk, writing in what looked to be a log book. I walked in and the door shut behind me, clearing my throat as he didn't even spare a glance towards me.
"You're two minutes late, Mike." He finally said, setting down the pencil in his hand and clicking his desk lamp off, turning in his chair towards me. The faded red jacket and stained undershirt only complimented his pizza-themed tie, "Ah.." I coughed again and stole a glance at my watch: Six-O-Two. Shit. "About that, sir. There was a bunch of traffic, and, I had difficulty finding the place an-" He held a hand out towards me and shook his head, standing up,
"This is your one mulligan, be late again and you're canned." He said, his eyes zeroing to mine, "Got it?"
I nodded and outstretched my hand towards him, only to retract it as he was busy gather some paperwork off the desk. "Got it, Mr...?"
"Banelli."
"Mr. Banelli. Thank you, it's nice to meet you. I was a bit thrown off that you guys didn't want me to come in for an interview, wh-" He cleared his throat and walked to the door behind me, I moved out of the way to avoid screwing up my only chance of recovery from being late. Mr. Banelli furrowed his brows and shrugged, "We've been hurting for a new night security watch for a while now, to be honest. Truthfully, I think the reason most people quit in the first day or two are because of those animatronics." He motioned to a big poster over looking the desk; "Bonnie, the purple bunny, Chica the pizza obsessed chicken, and the main player, Freddy." Each had an uneasy likeness to them, like they weren't meant to simply just play for the entertainment of children.
"Charming." I replied, taking in the other posters and newspaper clippings that I could see. He opened the door and pointed to the hall, "C'mon, kid. I'll show you around, let you take in the scenery while you still got time." I walked past him and glanced at the wall with the Golden Freddy poster, only, it was just regular Freddy now. Shrugging once again, began down the hall and I followed after, occasionally looking behind me out of curiosity.
We arrived at the tail end of the band's nightly show, a table nestled in the corner as Mr. Banelli invited me to sit. I took a seat across from him and absorbed the ambiance of the kid-friendly environment. Adjacent to the stage, however, a circular stage sat. The tables near it empty and a sign was posted just outside the glossy, brand new curtains; 'Sorry! Out of Order!'.
"What's that?" I said, pointing to the sign and stage. He looked over and then down slightly, becoming overtaken with thought. "That," he began, "that's Pirate Cove or, at least it used to be." Curiously, I raised my brow and looked back to the stage. "Why? What happened?" This caused him to shift uncomfortably and lean in a bit. "You don't know? The bite. Bite of '87." To that, I stared at him for a second and rubbed my chin, searching my brain for any information. "Can't say I recall ever hearing about that, Mr. Banelli." I finally admitted, he rolled his eyes and whispered, "Look, any questions you got, they'll be answered when you start your shift. Right now, I can't really answer too much. Understand?"
He discreetly motioned upwards to the camera above us, nestled in the corner. I was taken a bit back by this, if they had cameras, why need a security guard? "I guess." I looked back to the main stage just as the animatronics were finishing their set. The sudden thunderous roar of claps and complaints for more made my head pound again, I rubbed my temples and flagged down a passing waiter. "Can I get some water, please?" He nodded and muttered a half-assed acknowledgment before heading to another table. When the crowd settled down, the yellow bird, Chica, was busy pretending to enjoy the plastic cupcake that was placed on her hand. Upon further straining of my eyes, I noticed something off-putting about, not only Chica, but Bonnie and Freddy as well: Teeth. "That normal?" I asked Banelli again, hoping to get a clearer answer from him. "What? The Teeth?" I nodded, "Yeah, it's normal, makes repairs easier for maintenance, easier to get into the endoskeleton." Just then, Freddy, with a slight creak and whir of his hydraulics, moved its head out towards the crowd and chuckled mechanically.
"Say, Bonnie, Chica," He said, causing all three to laugh and Freddy to turn to the crowd of children. "I think it's time to say goodnight to all the boys and girls and let them enjoy their pizzas like good little bears." The other two nodded and Freddy stepped back slowly, a jingle coming from him causing the dimmed lights to return to full brightness and the curtains to slowly close, leaving one last look at the top hatted bear. The waiter from earlier returned a bit sooner than I expected and hurriedly handed the glass of water I wanted. "Thanks, pal." I said, taking the water as he again nodded and was off to tend to the other tables.
The water felt like liquid relief as it washed down my throat, the dining area was now lightly saturated with people, mainly parents talking or eating. Most of the children went to the arcade or were busy nagging their parents to make the 'Fuzzy Bear' come back. With most of the activity dying down, I stood and looked towards the main stage, the stage lights and set lights off. "Mind if I look around a bit?" I asked. He shrugged and nodded halfheartedly, "Just be back at the office in around twenty minutes, I need to show you most of what you'll be doing." I waved and made my way to the stage, looking at the three animatronics that were blanketed in semi-darkness; their eyes hollow and faces permanently molded into a smile.
Each of them looked worn and run down, the cloth for Freddy alone looked frayed and falling apart. The same could be said for all of them; Chica's Bib slightly cracked and stained, Bonnie's guitar half rusted and the strings looking near broken. I focused my attention then to the other stage, and believe me, it looked even worse. The sign itself was just a two by two plank tied around a PVC pipe; the purple curtains, however, looked brand new. A quick glance behind me revealed that Mr. Banelli had gone off and most of the people had left to grab their kids or join them in the arcade.
Again, the sound of the heartbeat returned, now, I knew; no way that it was mine. The air got cold, freezing cold, and the entire space surrounding Pirate's Cove felt - heavy? Despite the nagging voice of better judgment, I slowly pushed the curtains open and there, sitting with a hollow look, was another animatronic. A fox? I looked closer and saw that out of the four, he was in the worst shape; tears to the endoskeleton, rust, and a missing eye under the metal eyepatch. Just as I was about to open the curtains more, I heard footsteps behind me. My head turned slowly, only to chuckle a nervous chuckle. It was Kelly, the girl from the front.
"Sorry, Mike. He's outta order." She said and pointed to the sign, "Can't read?" To that, I stepped away from the Cove and rolled my eyes, looking to her. "I was curious," I began, crossing my arms, "besides, I figure I might as well get a good look at the things I'll be staring at all night. You on a break or what?" She sat down and nodded with an exhale and toss of her hat onto the table. I walked over and took a seat next to her, watching her rub her eyes for a second.
"Been a while since we've had a night security guard," she said, taking a sip of some water she'd brought. "why here?"
"Is there a problem with working here?" I asked, to which she shrugged with a scoff. "Can't say there is, at least, not with my job. However with yours," she was about to continue when Mr. Banelli came back in with a slice of pizza and a question for her. "How long have you been on break, Kelly?" He asked, causing her to stiffen a bit and rub her neck nervously.
"Only a couple of minutes, I got fifteen." He took a bite as she spoke and chuckled, sitting down across the two of us. "Yeah, yeah. Just giving you a hard time, go ahead and take a bit longer than that, we close in thirty." Kelly smiled and stood, grabbing for a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, she looked down to me. "You smoke, Mike?" I nodded and stood, "We'll be back in a bit, boss." She said, only getting a nod in response from Mr. Banelli.
"So, how long have you been here?" I asked, taking a drag from my cigarette. Kelly pursed her lips and played with her lighter for a bit. "About...one year." She said, the wind a slight whisper as the sun was almost past the horizon. A period of awkward silence arose between us and I scrambled to come up with another question. "So, why is the Fox so broken?" I finally said, causing her to give me an odd look. "You don't know?" she said, I shook my head. "Back in Eighty-Seven, when we had more people comin' here or so I've been told, there was an incident with the Fox." I narrowed my eyes, "What kind of incident?"
She sighed and looked directly at me, "The Fox bit some girl's brain out, I personally, think that it's bullshit. But, Mr. Banelli doesn't like talkin' about it too much." I took a drag and nodded, "I know, he was very evasive when I asked him." She shook her head and stood up, tossing her spent cigarette, "We'd better get back in, we close in ten." I tossed my own cigarette and opened the door for her, walking in behind her and bidding her a quick good-bye as I made my way through the arcade once more. Most of the machines turned off and chairs upturned.
"Mike?" I heard the voice of Mr. Banelli from the end of the hallway as I rounded the corner, "Coming!" I replied, and walked faster down the hallway. When I reached the door, the same cold air and heavy feeling came back. Something was wrong, Mr. Banelli wasn't in his office.
"Hello? ?" I called out to the void of darkness inside the office, then, the sounds of multiple heartbeats echoed throughout the hallway. I felt my skin turn cold and the hair on the back of my neck slowly stand, again, I called out. " ! If this is some kinda prank, I swear." My feet carried my body away from the office and back up the hallway again, the feeling of being watched only increasing with each step. When I made it to the end of the hallway, the dining area was dark, the only light coming from the front of the place. Careful not to fall, I made my way around the tables and could hear more voices echoing from the hall.
"Mike? Mike. Where are you?" The voices mixing between each other, I was getting freaked out of my mind. The light was a bastion of hope and it calmed down my nerves to see Kelly and near the front door, both looking a bit weirded out upon seeing me. "What's wrong with you, Mike?" Mr. Banelli said, opting Kelly to gasp a bit. "You look like you've seen a ghost." I shook my head and grabbed at the pedestal, holding onto the side of my neck. "I...I thought I heard your voice from the office, you said to be there before closing."
"I see. Kelly," He said, turning to her, "go home. And as for you, Mike. I'll get to showing you where you'll be until tomorrow morning." She didn't seem to protest as she opened the door, bid us both good night, and left to the parking lot. The last other employees slowly trickled their way until it was just myself and left inside the now empty pizzeria. "You'll be workin' in the office, Mike." He began as he started towards the arcade, beckoning me to follow. "There's cameras in different spots throughout the entire place, such as there and there," He pointed as we headed through the arcade and into the hallway.
Once inside the office, he looked around for a quick second, and then leaned in again towards me. "Look, the boss doesn't like us talking about what happened here; he nearly lost everything in trying to cover up the incident and he'd rather keep it to rumors. Sides," he paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "brings in more business that way." I cocked an eyebrow and set down my jacket and hat down on the desk, the small fan already blowing at full speed. There was an old clock ontop of the filing cabinet next to the left window, it read; 11:50.
"Anything else I need to know?" I asked, looking for something to use as an ashtray. "No, just make sure you conserve power. That camera tablet keeps track of how much you're using, try and keep the power level above ten percent." He said, I grabbed it and looked it over before speaking.
"Why?" I said, watching him begin to gather his things. "Because the doors start to malfunction or the lights start to flicker. It's just a pain for us to fix, got it?" I nodded and sat down the in the chair, hearing it creak and groan, put on his overcoat and opened the door and stopped, looking back to me quickly. "Oh and don't forget to go over the log book, okay? Alright, have a good night." He turned and the door stayed open behind him, my eyes glanced at the clock as I sighed and saw that my shift was about to start. Looking down to the green log book, curiosity welled up in me and just as I was going to flip it open, I heard a noise from down the hallway. That jingle, the same one used by Freddy. How? My mind argued against my ears, my hands opening the book and my eyes scanning the pages for an answer.
The first page wasn't much to see, all blank save for something written down in pencil and covered with pen. I moved one of my hands to the tablet and casually flicked it on, the jingle coming through the speaker and filling the tiny office. Unsettled, I glanced over to it and saw that Freddy was still, same as the rest of them. I clicked it off and went back to the book, turning the page and seeing what I assume that was writing. It read:
" Dear New Night Guard,
Welcome, for one, to the Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Team and thank you for choosing this new, exciting career. First things first; the job..." I skipped over the introduction and job description, moving down the page to the animatronics themselves,
" ...Anywho, you're probably curious about the robots themselves. You see, in the day time, they're restricted to the stage (with Foxy being off all the time) and are left in a 'free-roaming' mode at night. You're only task is to make sure they don't somehow make their way outside and get lost. Think of yourself like a gatekeeper, get it? Moving on..." Free-roaming mode? My brain tossed the words over and over, wouldn't the locked doors stop them? Sighing as I grabbed for my cigarettes, I saw the time; 12:10. Ah, I thought, at least the jingle stopped and Kelly was nice enough to let me have a couple of her cigarettes. After lighting one, I flipped the page and narrowed my gaze to the words written down,
" ...The only reason for this 'free-roam' mode is due to their servos locking up during the day, they need time to, exercise if you will. You're probably curious about the rumors of Foxy having an...incident involving a customer..." And that was it, I flipped over the page again in a vain attempt to find more information; a small, torn piece of paper fell on the desk as I flew through the pages. I picked it up and unfolded it, nearly dropping my cigarette at the words.
"It's all true, Mike. Any rumor you've heard about this place is true. Listen carefully, do NOT let them see you; they won't see you as a human being, but, an endoskeleton without its costume. I've been trying to find out why they're programmed this way however, every repairman on maintenances' payroll won't say. No doubt you've heard or seen things odd in this place, there's a reason for that too. The 'bite' of eighty-seven wasn't just a bite, but a message; one I'm sure that was intended for owner of this place. Provided you survive tonight, I'll give you a call tomorrow morning, got it? Alright, have a safe night, Mike. PS: Burn this after reading."
With that, I crumpled the paper and tossed it in my makeshift ashtray. What had I gotten myself into? Killer robots? I took a drag and exhaled with a new sense of uneasiness; feeling trapped and completely and utterly alone. The tablet clicked on and I looked through the different cameras, noticing the kitchen camera down and the one in the supply closet fuzzy and unfocused. Lastly, the stage was still relatively the same, though, I noted Bonnie turned and was nearly off the platform. A deep feeling of dread and nausea washed over me, at the time I didn't know it, but I was in for the longest night of my life.