AN: I know what you guys are thinking.
"Another fanfiction? This guy's an overachiever."
Maybe you're right. My excuse? I need a break. I'm starting something new.
Disclaimer: I, KING DOMINO III, DO NOT HOLD ANY RIGHTS FOR THE FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S FRANCHISE. I DO NOT OWN ANY CHARACTERS, LOCATIONS, OR OTHER MATERIAL BUT MY OWN THEORIES AND WRITING. I WILL NOT USE THIS STORY FOR MONETARY GAIN.
UPDATE: This chapter was edited heavily, I recommend re-reading it. It now meshes with my story "Faulty animatronics."
Hello.
My name is Springtrap.
You may not have heard of me, or Fazbear's Fright.
You probably don't even live in Texas, most likely don't get the Dallas Morning Newspaper.
That's where my home, Fazbear's Fright, was first featured.
Follow me?
No?
I better start from the beginning have all the time we need. After all, time in Hell is as slow as the drip of molasses on a summer day that the corpse inside of me saw before he came into the pizzeria on his last day alive.
I have so much regret.
Is there a hope for redemption?
Most people would say no. I do.
Do I have a small glimmer of hope? Will Mike forgive me?
I certainly hope so...
Fredbear's family diner.
From what I can garner from newspaper clippings, it wasn't much of a diner, or restaurant. It was a laid-back place for families to kick back and relax, be casual for once and take a break from the troubles of life. It had higher reviews, around four stars, missing the last one because it didn't have a state of the art kitchen.
There was one animatronic.
Freddy Fazbear.
He wasn't state of the art. He was creaky, but he could walk, somewhat. Back then, there weren't all those gizmos to move the eyeballs and perform delicate motions. Our suits could be worn by performers if we were out of commission, which we were often, covered with pizza sauce stains or grime from the childrens' little hands.
The pizzeria tended to attract younger audiences. From experience, small children are unclean and love to touch large animatronic animals.
Freddy was good, but he got old, fast. They had to get a new animatronic.
They made the same endoskeleton as he had for me, but made a different suit, one for a rabbit. It was also wearable.
I enjoyed my time there. Spent hour after hour entertaining the children.
Then, tragedy struck.
A little boy was bullied by other kids at a party. This was normal; from what I have learned from newspapers and other restless souls here, humans are warlike brutes half the time. The other half they are sweet and caring innocents, or brave heroes.
What wasn't normal is that the boy ran out of the building.
Freddy ran at the fasted speed he could, a walking pace, to the door, but he was too late. A purple Ford Galaxie rolled past my home. An evil spirit with malicious intent got out, stabbed the poor child, and drove off.
The diner was ruined. Every couple with a child never wanted to go there again, afraid of being the victim of another murderer.
We were forced to close.
I swore that if I ever got my hands on him, I would crush him to a pulp, dicing him into shreds.
Now, looking back on that crusade, I regret the oath, seeing what came out of it.
Me and Freddy were thrown in a backroom by the owner, Ralph. I can't blame him; we were tainted with evil in his eyes. Bad memories affixed to us.
Over thirty years we decayed into a disgusting shade of yellow rot. Pieces of our torn costumes fell out. Freddy's eyes, made of wood, decayed. Me, a newer model, had metal eyes beneath that, thankfully.
After a few years, there was a leak in the ceiling right above Freddy. First, I didn't think much of it, but his endoskeleton began to rust. After awhile, Ralph removed it, hoping to salvage some parts. From what I could gather by eavesdropping on the mechanics, all they got were some wires, yet they still didn't give poor Fred his endoskeleton, his only support, back.
After another year, the water finally got to Freddy. He rotted away. I swear I could see golden steam puff away when his chest finally rotted and nothing was left.
Rest in peace, Fred. I loved you as a brother, and you were always there for me.
One year.
A whole year I was left without another presence, trapped, drowning in a pool of my own insanity.
The animatronics retreated to this closet every day to receive maintenance.
Today, as normal, they walked in. Shut down. Just another mind-numbingly dull day sitting here. I wouldn't move in fear of using battery, I wanted to preserve my essence as long as possible before I died and was never heard from again.
Two minutes passed.
Then, I saw the light of day.
And then the next second I wish I hadn't.
A man clad complete in purple was standing at the door.
The murderer.
He had four children in tow behind him. I wanted to yell; warn them of their doom, but they wouldn't hear my mute thoughts.
He locked the door behind him and stabbed the first child, a little girl with golden locks, stuffing her into the Chica costume.
Then the second, a chubby little body with brown hair into the Freddy costume.
The third, an older girl with long black hair and purple bows in it, into the Bonnie suit.
The last one, a thin boy with long legs and blazing red hair into the Foxy suit.
Then he glanced over at me. He'd need one more.
He left the room to grab another one.
Five minutes later, he came back in with a little boy. Very energetic. Brown hair, blue eyes. He seemed like a nice one.
Then, they seemed to converse. The boy figured out what the murderer was going to do to him. He tried to run out the closed door. I watched the losing battle the boy was fighting.
Then he did something surprising.
He leaped up, and grabbed one of Foxy's hooks of the shelves. The murderer pulled out a balisong and unfolding it, dueling with the young boy.
I was shocked. The boy was actually winning! He stabbed the murderer in the shoulder, grabbed the butterfly knife, and stabbed him right in the back. The man grunted and shoved the boy away, buying some time for himself, to try to get away from the boy with the knife.
He scanned the room, his eyes landing on me, and staying there.
After turning the crank, he slid into the now shared costume. When his pursuer, the boy, followed, he laughed and laughed at the boy confusement, slowly releasing the catches...
SNAP!
Justice was served, and I had fulfilled my oath. The springs and bit in my costume had clamped together, crushing and mincing the murderer. He was dead, and I was cursed with the rotting body that I couldn't remove.
The boy grabbed the key from his the man's corpse, fumbled with the lock, and ran out of the room.
I heard sirens.