Legal details: I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's, Scott Cawthon does. Which is a good thing.

Chapter 1: The First Day (Our protagonist)

There's a point in your life where one tiny little decision will have unforeseen ramifications for the rest of it, no matter how long or short it will be. It could be as innocent as making a left turn instead of a right on your way to work, or maybe you'll decide to have lunch at that sub place on Elizondo Ave instead of getting chinese on Trenton St. Choosing between two different movies you want to see at a theater may accidentally lead to running into an old friend and rekindling that friendship, or you could end up in a bar fight after the movie with that same old friend that may lead to a lawsuit because you didn't meet him at the movies first.

You could decide to propose at dinner in a restaurant or at a family holiday event. You could check out one book instead of another at the Library. You could ignore that check engine light until you get paid. The point is, you won't realize how important that decision really is until it's too late.

As I sit here, terrified to open the doors to my booth at three in the morning, glancing at the wi-fi set up tablet hooked into the security cameras of the building, I come to realize finally that maybe it wouldn't have been so bad busing tables instead of night security in a cursed pizzeria.

Maybe I should back up a bit...

It's about four days ago, a monday morning and I'm sitting at the breakfast table going through the help wanted ads along with the two friends I share the two bedroom apartment with. Jon, the big guy that looks like he spent a couple years being punched in the face by Mike Tyson, is on my right checking through ads on Craigslist while eating cereal. Rico's at the other end from me, going through a Detroit Free Press' classifieds as opposed to my smaller local paper. We're all in college together -the where doesn't really matter- on scholarship but not full academic. Jon's made it on a sports scholarship while Rico...never was very clear about his source but we knew better than to ask. My ride was also a sport's scholarship, but mine was track while Jon was in for football, and between the three of us with our clever plans about cash and, of course in Jon's case, family, we were set for the school year.

The same couldn't be said for our living accommodations. They weren't bad, and we didn't mind the neighborhood. We could walk or ride the bus to class, which saved on gas. But it still meant we had to handle the rent and some of the utility costs on a month-to-month basis, not counting tiny expenses you don't think of that just add up from day to day. Then there's the food bill, of course. We didn't mind at first, because we'd had both savings and a source of income. A source that had dried up when Jon lost his job. Rico is a graphic artist, so he had cash coming in from commissions online, but it wouldn't be enough especially since he also had to attend classes. As for me? I'd gotten my guard card right out of high school, and I'd sold my dad's comic collection he left me after passing. That money was running out too, and I'd just been forced to leave the mall for reasons too stupid to explain.

So there we all were, being forced to the edge of things and looking for a way to gain some financial breathing room, marking down possibilities and writing down phone numbers to call. That was when I came across it. "Well well well..." I said aloud, sitting up to a more fully awake position, coffee and scrambled eggs forgotten. Rico glanced over at me, curious. Rico Ramirez is bad boy latino handsome, that kind of face you'd see being one of the important gang members in a crime movie, though the difference with him is he actually had street cred once. Me and Jon had known him in school too, but 'friends' was hardly the word until our Sophomore year when we all made peace after years of posturing and fights. I think Rico's 'crew' being rounded up by the cops was a big factor in that.

Jon, on the other hand, didn't look up. I'd made that sound before in school, and he knew it well. I'd seen something interesting. Jon, unfortunately, was the kind of blunt faced guy you saw playing the big dumb thug on TV. And at six-three two-twenty, he was a bruiser too. But he wasn't a bad guy. He liked to box more than football, but didn't want to do it professionally. His blue eyes, though, were eyes of a warm soul that laughed a lot. And he'd had a lot to laugh at through the years, as time and again I got my foot in my mouth.

Looking up to them both, a smile crossed over my slightly tanned caucasian features. "Gentlemen, I, Jeremy Titus, have found an answer to my employment." I said, still smiling but it was not in triumph. It was in nostalgic recognition. With that, I held up the newspaper, getting both of them to look at what I'd just circled.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza

Family Pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift. 12Am to 6am.

Monitor cameras, ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters.

Not responsible for injury/dismemberment.

To apply call

1-888-Faz-Fazbear

The two of them were staring at the ad, then me, both of them had disbelief clearly written on their faces. "No. Fucking. Way." Jon said, grinning like a kid. "That place is still open? You've gotta be kidding me!" "Man, I thought that place woulda been closed down loong ago. Economy's not that good for a place like Freddy's." Rico said, his rough latin accent flavoring his words. He spoke perfect english, but we all knew he maintained the accent for 'flare'. Helped that he spoke spanish just as perfectly. And swore in it even better.

Everyone growing up in that one part of town remembers a couple places where some of your fondest memories are tied. For us, one of those places had been Freddy Fazzbear's. Growing up, Fazbear's Pizza was our hang out, right in the arcade section when our parents wanted an afternoon with us in safe supervision and they wanted free time, and Rico'd been there a few times too for his own reasons. But it was there we'd brokered our peace over melted slices of cheesy pizza and cups of Pepsi before an afternoon of skeeball and an old Final Fight cabinet. For me and Jon, it was a place of fond memories. Rico? The turning point of his life, or so he said.

Small things with unforeseen, long reaching consequences.

"But there's their ad.' I said, grinning triumphantly. "Bold as brass. Freddy's lives and needs help. Gentlemen." I said, putting on a faux British accent, the one old poshy generals have in the movies. "I do declare that we owe a debt of honor to Sir Fazbear, and propose we repay him with out services. What do you say" "Hear hear" "Quite right, old chap!" Came the responding fake brits, the three of us caught in the moment for a bit and doing some good nature 'harrumphing' before we relaxed.

Rico was first, he tended to be. "Guess that's you, mano. Give 'em a call, flash your card and you're in. It mention pay?" I glanced at the ad again as I settled back into my chair. "No, but hardly surprising. Probably not high pay to begin with." I said with a knowing sigh. Jon had resumed eating his cereal, but he soon paused long enough to swallow and wave a spoon disappointingly. "Shame they don't need three. We'd have the mother fucker on lockdown..." "Damn right." I said in response, chuckling as my sense of humor treated me to the mental image of the three of us all wandering in our place of childhood memories at 2 in the morning, fending off petty thieves breaking in for the safe. The petty thieves turned into ninjas, just because that's how my brain worked.

It couldn't be the only option, I reminded myself. But even as we returned to looking through our respective sources for employment, I already knew what I wanted. We hadn't been to Freddy's since the end of high school, maybe a little after it. A fact I sometimes felt guilty about. I missed Freddy and the crew and their cheesy songs, that greasy pizza I made sure to thank Chica for, the silly pirate accent Foxy had while he told Errol Flynn type stories.

It was time to go back, and that's what prompted me that afternoon after classes were over for me to make the call and ask for an interview. And besides, the whole thing had an interesting appeal. From 12 to six I'd be by myself in a closed up pizzeria monitoring cameras. Shifting around my sleep schedule, I could spend most of the time studying or catching up on that small collection of paperbacks I'd been letting build. Hells, maybe I'll even get a nap in or two. The job couldn't be that hard, even if the hours weren't all that appealing.

And it'd be better than dealing with some asshole complaining about his eggs if I took up busing tables. What's the worst that happens, someone breaks in and I have to scare off some dumb kids acting tough? I'm not a big bruiser like Jon is, but I'm still a fairly fit guy. Aside from running track, all three of us were sparring partners through out our lives together, and I hadn't slouched in my training of savate and more modern kick boxing. I'd likely be armed as well, what could an old Pizzeria attract to really threaten me?

I wanna travel back in time and kick myself for giving the Universe such a perfect opening line...

Here's a couple tips for anyone out there seeking employment. If the place you're calling grants an immediate or same day interview? They need personnel and are probably gonna be lenient on their standards. Likely a high turnover rate or emergency. If that place, however, is willing to hire you over the phone, on the spot? Shady. Ask yourself if it's really worth walking into trouble you probably only know what's being openly admitted.

That being said...hind sight IS 20-20, and when you're a college student with only so many hours in the day, you can be forgiven for jumping at a chance for paying work. Well, maybe you shouldn't, but there's atleast some degree of understanding.

The phone call to the pizzeria had been surprisingly, a quick one. I didn't get to call them right away like my room mates had suggested, too caught up in that morning as we realized we'd all missed the damned time change and we were sooo not going to be on time. It wasn't until around lunch I gave it a shot, crossing my fingers.

Ring.

Ring
Click.
"Freddy Fazzbear's Pizza, A place where fantasy and fun come to life. This is Rachael."

Well, hello! Cutie on the phone! I'll have to swing by during the day as well. Crap, focus, man! "Jeremy Titus, I'm calling about the guard position. Night Shift? If it's still available, I-"
"One moment!" Well, she sounded relieved for some reason, I thought, as I heard the receiver get set down and there was the faint noise of receding footsteps. It took a minute, maybe, before I got an answer in the form of an older male voice replacing the young, peppy sounding girl. "Hello, still there Mr Titus?" "Yes I am, sir." Always be respectful. "David Ross, I'm the day manager for the pizzeria. You want the guard position?" "Yes, Mr Ross. I've got my guard card here-" "Read it off?"

Huh. He was already prepared for that. I read off the string of numbers and letters, and could hear someone typing on a keyboard on the other end. Most employers looking to hire security guards either hire through an existing agency or can check independent licensed guards through a database. They need access from the state government, of course, but I don't know how they get it.

"J. Titus...alright, good record. Says here you-" "I know the incident in question. I was cleared." "Ah, so it also says in the added notes...Alright, Jeremy, be here at 11:30 to get the tour." "...Seriously?" "Your record's clean, and I need someone here at night pronto. Just be prepared to sign the usual NDAs and you're good." "Y-yes sir!" I shut my phone, blinking in surprise at my good fortune while staring at the phone. The surprise turned to a grin as I double checked my stuff and hoofed for the apartment to get in a couple hours sleep.

Author's Notes: Well, didn't think I'd ever be writing Fanfiction again, especially after I basically burned all my old stories and account, said 'never again', and rode of into the sunset of the internet to do other things.

But here I am again, an unknown author returning to an old shame because damnit I LOVE me some Five Nights at Freddy's and the fandom for this game isn't stopping anytime soon. It also provides a chance to stretch my literary muscles again.

This is, yes, an OC story, but only because I feel the story of Mike Schmidt has been told many times, as we all know, and I often wonder at how this would fare as more action/horror if the protagonist was...more inclined to wander. So, here's my experiment and the first chapter. Not expecting high praise yet, if ever, but it's what I want to do. All hates for OC can be directed to the usual spot along with compliments, but most importantly criticisms.