Mike stared down at the screen of his tablet, processing the phone call he had just barely hung up from. He checked through the cameras one by one, stopping briefly to count how many animatronics were in their rightful places on the stage. He sighed, thankful that he was free from their terror for at least a few minutes.

He should have expected some real shit storm of a job to not even have to be interviewed to get it, he mused the fact that he could have been a murderous, paedophilic rapist and still have gotten the job. Though, he couldn't help thinking that being a murderer could have some sort of helpfulness in this situation.

"What a hot bag of garbage" he mumbled into the empty room, flicking the tablet off and leaning back into his uncomfortable desk chair. He took a moment to focus on the drawings and images on the wall across from him.

It felt like the animatronics' eyes were staring into his very soul, like they were watching him, like they were checking to see if he was watching them…

Mike jumped in his seat at the sound of footsteps charging down the left hall, his hand moved on its own, slamming down onto the close door button.

It wouldn't shut.

Mike's breath caught in his throat as complete and utter terror consumed his very being, his body shuddered violently at the feeling of ice coursing through his veins. He closed his eyes as tight as he possibly could, ready to feel the animatronics' metal mouth to clamp around his head, screeching as it did so.

The footsteps stopped. Mike refused to open his eyes, even after six seconds had passed and the murky light was obstructed from his form.

Logically, Mike believed he was completely and utterly fucking fucked, but as six seconds became thirty and the incessant whirring of the creature in front of him made no effort to move him or itself, he somehow came to the conclusion that it was broken and he was completely fine.

So he opened his eyes, and met the open, wire-tangled mess of a stomach… or chest? Mike was still living off of the adrenalin high this encounter gave him, even after the nearly fifty seconds had occurred, and was thoroughly confused at everything that he was seeing.

This wasn't any of the stage animatronics.

He had not been briefed on this shit.

The thing growled. The reverberating sound sent mike scrambling back on his desk chair in a blind panic, it rolled back before hitting the wall behind him. Mike stared in blind terror as the thing stepped forward with his backward movement to stand in front of him again, closer than before.

"What the fuck" he whispered, and he wasn't proud of this, but when it laid a gross, rotted hand on his shoulder, he had screamed a little.

"Language young man" it seemed like an automatic response in a reply to swearing, but fuck if it didn't make him nearly shit his pants. He shook as the animatronic didn't let go, just firmly held its hand on his shoulder.

Mike jumped at the sound of a loud, echoing crash that came from someplace in the pizzeria, the hand on his shoulder didn't let go in that moment, keeping him locked to his chair. Mike glanced down to his feet where he had apparently dropped his tablet in his panic and went to reach for it, forgetting for a dumb second that he wasn't alone in the room.

"I'm guessin' that Chika be in t' kitchen?" Mike nodded silently before he froze, eyes blown wide in realisation.

"Did you…" His head jerked back to look up at the things face.

"Did you just say something?" Mike's breath hitched as its head tilted to the side, like a quizzical puppy, and its mouth moved to hang open slightly.

"Yes" Mike blinked for a couple of seconds of mind process. The voice that came from it was certainly robotic, and seemed to come through a very static corrupted stereo.

"I thought you were broken?" He scrunched his face up in confusion. The animatronic seemed to be built into the form of some sort of canine, the red fur gave away the fact it was likely a fox. He just sort of accepted that, like he accepted the thing was able to somehow have cognitive speech patterns.

"No, I be not broken" It lifted its other hand… no…its hook, in a janky and robotic movement, it used it to touch barely bellow Mike's chin.

The cool metal made him flinch, but at this point Mike wasn't sure if he was even scared of the fox anymore, or if he was merely uncomfortable.

He concluded that yes, he was quite terrified, and also very uncomfortable. Mike was definitely not ok with this thing touching him like it couldn't easily gouge out his brains with its hook alone. The hand on his shoulder returned, destroying any thought of escape from this situation.

Mike screeched as Chika suddenly appeared at the window, the loud bang causing him to pull away from the fox animatronics' clasp, the fact he was mere millimetres from slitting his own throat on the fox's hook didn't even occur to him at that point. All that went through his mind at that point was how he couldn't possibly be given a fucking break in this job.

He slammed the hand on the shut door button like he had before, and breathed a sigh of relief as it actually closed.

"Holy hell" Mike whispered, filtering his own words for the sake of the other. The fox whirred quietly, but said nothing on the matter. Mike realised too late that it was probably because the fat chicken bitch had shifted her dead eyed stare to foxy. If robots could glare, that was definitely one.

Then just as soon as she had appeared, the lights flickered and she was gone.

Mike jerked to look back at the fox as it began a slow gait toward the wide open door.

"What are you doing?" He found himself asking, he didn't feel quite as drained as he thought he would be after spending so long sitting in a chair with a massive fox thing standing in front of him, touching him, keeping him company. Despite Mike being terrified of it, its presence made him feel safe from the others. Strangely enough, he couldn't help but feel like he would be dead by now if it hadn't come in.

"'tis 5:57" The fox's metallic voice said, imitating a murmur. Mike quirked a brow, confused.

"It's almost time t' go back into day mode" The fox continued, as if that made Mike understand better. Granted, it did a little but he still didn't want it to leave. A lot could happen in a few minutes.

"Me name be Foxy, by th' way" The fox, now labelled Foxy, said just before it moved out through the door.

"I'll see ye tomorrow" Foxy's loud, rustic call, hit him from far down the hall. Mike scrambled to open his tablet and watch as Foxy walked in, and closed the curtains, to a place the cameras couldn't view.

The 6 o' clock bells began to chime and Mike knew the day mode had been activated and every animatronic was shut down for child appropriate use.

(A/N after this point)

Two years later and I'm back at it again with my shitty writing, I did this in about three hours so it's a bit janky in places. But it's like 600 more words than it was originally, which is a wild thought to me. I'm thinking about drawing a new cover image for this too, since my forte is definitely drawing more so than writing (while my writing has improved a bit, my art is far better in comparison). I'm not going to abandon it, but I'm certainly going to rush the ending so don't expect greatness.

I like to think that Mike has no fucking clue who foxy is because he wasn't told about him before he got the job, or in the phone call (I didn't actually read any of the calls before I wrote this so I don't know if that was accurate lol).

P.S Sorry if people are offended because I called Chika a fat chicken bitch lol.

PP.S Please tell me if you enjoyed this more than before.