Chapter 1
Keep the Children Happy

I stared into the mirror of my tired reflection, and thought. I wasn't even sure what I was thinking about but whatever it was, it was very important to me and made me slightly uncomfortable, so I decided to think about something slightly more pleasant. I began thinking of my new job. It was a small job with minimal human interaction which was fantastic for me. I was never a "people" person. I don't understand how they work, so I'd rather just stay away from others as much as possible. The job was being a security guard at a small place called Fredbear's Family Diner , where children would play and have parties while animatronics made sure they were happy as well as entertaining them with songs or dances or cupcakes. All I would have to do is stand outside and make sure the kids were happily inside of the diner, which was simple enough. I straightened my night shirt and held my head high as if I was an authority figure. In this posture, I recited the mantra that had been plastered into my brain by all of the paperwork I had to sign to get the job in the first place.

"A happy kid means a happy parent, and a happy parent will happily part with their money." I repeated it until I believed it, which took quite a while.

My fingernails scraping against a long healed scar on my left arm (a nervous habit of mine) made me eventually notice the time and curse at my inattentiveness. It was 4:40 AM and my job was supposed to start at 5 AM. The place was a half an hour away. I threw on my suit, grabbed my flashlight, strapped on my equipment, and ran out the front door straight into my car. I pressed the button to open the door, and pulled on the handle. Nothing. I pressed the button and tried the door again, but the door had no intention of making this easy. After several more attempts, I began to get annoyed. I would have been halfway to work if I hadn't been practicing in the mirror. I kicked the door in frustration, only to realize that car's don't feel pain. I, on the other hand, clutched my foot in agony. I grabbed the handle and yanked it as hard as I could. The door flew open, almost off it's hinges. With a sigh of both relief and annoyance, I slid into the car and pressed my foot down on the gas, breaking several speed restrictions and tailgating practically the whole way down. Luckily most of the roads were unoccupied due to the early hour, so zipping through traffic like was like a knife through butter.

Still, I arrived at work 10 minutes late and was greeted nearly immediately by a burly man with very meaty hands gripping tightly to a small flashlight. He looked confused and startled, but most of all, he looked furious. I was going to drive passed him, but the gates at the entrance and exits of the diner were closed, so I rolled down my window and allowed him to walk up to the car.

"And who the hell are you?" He barked into my car, shining the light directly into my face. I shielded my eyes from the glare, blinking in surprise at the sudden change of brightness. I found myself mindlessly scratching the pale scar on my arm again and I sat on my hand in annoyance. I thought I had

"Lila," I held my hand out the window, "Vincent Lila. I'm the new security guard."

"Oh." The man looked at his watch, looked at me, then looked back to his watch again. "You're supposed to be here at six, you do realize that, right? And the place doesn't open until 7."

"Six?" I looked at him blankly. The man nodded then looked away and turned off his light, embarrassed. "Alright. I'll go eat breakfast and be back by then."

"At this time of night?" The man was clearly impressed.

"iHop is open 24/7."

He nodded, looking to the back of my car as if he was searching for something. I smiled awkwardly, then turned around and headed back towards the small shopping center where the iHop was located.

In a half an hour later, my plate which had been piled high with pancakes was empty and my stomach was full, although my drink of cherry soda was only half finished.

"Would you like the check, sir?" A melodic voice rang out in the quiet of the restaurant. I looked up at a woman who couldn't be older than 16 with a small pad and paper. She looked nice; an employee uniform fitting her form well. She was most likely beautiful, but I didn't care. It was too early to care.

"Yeah." I sent a thin lipped smile her way and thanked her for the meal, slipping my credit card into the card slot. She smiled back, then I went back to messing with the cherry soda and straw wrapper, filling it up until it gushed out onto the table. The table tilted across from me and I looked up to see Joseph Fink, a man who had been working beside me for 3 years and told me that there was an opening at Fredbear's, plop down across from me, a large, toothy grin stretched across his face.

"So, you took the job?"

"Yeah," I grinned at him. He was my favorite coworker at my previous job, "All thanks to you."

"Damn right!" He laughed a hearty laugh. There was a short pause. It began to make me uncomfortable, so I broke the quiet.

"I don't even know why places like that need security guards."

Joseph looked over his shoulder and shifted in his seat, something that he did when he had some particularly good gossip that he wanted to share, so I leaned forward, acting engaged.

"Well, there have been rumors about kids being killed at the diner since the beginning. Luckily, I've worked there almost the whole time this place has been running, and haven't seen one kid die." That wasn't saying much. It had only been a few years. "But there was one thing that happened early in my employment, which caused the need for an abundance of security guards." He looked around again, then leaned forward until our noses were nearly touching. "One of our employees, a teenager employee, was… let's just say a partier, shall we? He would come in to the diner shit-faced drunk for at least a day a week. His little brother hated it there, but he was forced to come for his birthday party. I have no clue why. The kids terror was obvious. Maybe they were sadistic people who loved to see the terror on his face when he walked through the doors. I don't know. But anyway, on this kids birthday, he comes into the diner clinging onto his brothers hand. Of course, I could tell he was drunk. So I told him to cool off in the back room. There's one for employees only, so I thought it would be safe enough. That was, until the animatronics came to the stage to perform.

"At first, it was going great, except that the birthday boy was hiding under the table. Then, we hear his older brother talking loudly over the song. I looked over and saw the big brother and a few of his friends dressed like the animatronics of Bonnie the bunny, Chicka the chicken, and Foxy the pirate.

"'C'mon, little bro!' He says. 'Uncle Freddy wants to give you a kiss!' The kid starts to scream. We all run up to try and stop him, but it's too late. All we hear is a crunch. You see, Freddy was in the middle of his song, so when they put the hids head up to Freddy's face, his jaw crunched down on that poor kids skull. Luckily, we were able to get an ambulance in time, and he's still alive now. But that incident left him without a frontal lobe. That's why they retired the old suits and use mostly the golden ones now." Joseph leaned back, looking serious and nervous as the waitress came back with a check. He ordered some breakfast for himself, but kept talking to me, so I stayed with him. We chatted about nothing in particular for the next 10 minutes, then departed for work in our separate cars, arriving at practically the same time.

When we arrived at the new job, Joseph introduced me to several of his colleagues and friends. I nodded, shook their hands, and pretended to be interested in their conversations. Every few seconds, I checked to make sure that Joseph was still there. He seemed to be happy, laughing and joking with a few of the others.

At a quarter to 7, he slipped through the small crowd, patting my shoulder reassuringly as he left. I tried to chase after him, but a few people began talking to me, asking me questions about my life, how I was raised, where I had worked before. My scar began to tingle as I began to shuffle back and forth onto my toes, then back to my heels, trying to avoid scratching the scar. I told them that I was just out of high school, but my summer jobs would carry through for most of the year. (False. My parents had amassed a large fortune from my grandparents, who then gave it all to a charity because I avoided going back to school. If I had stayed in college, I wouldn't have had to work a day in my life.) I told them I had grown up in a small town, that I had met Joseph in my first job. (False. I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland. Joseph was a security guard in a place I had tried to steal from. Instead of arre) Small talk flowed seamlessly from my mouth like water from a fountain. Everyone seemed so happy and welcome that I thought I should be, as well. A smile remained on my lips the whole time until the manager told us to go to our posts. Several of the people walked back into a strange room in the back of the diner, but one of the 3 security guards, excluding me, walked to the entrance. Joseph reappeared, now fully dressed in one of the spring-locked animatronic suits. He gave me a confident smile before shoving on a large mask and disappearing into a golden Fredbear suit. Confused, I called for the boss, Jerry, a middle aged man with graying hair, and he nodded, jogging across the room.

"What'd ya need?" He grinned.

"Uh…" I crossed my arms to avoid scratching at that infernal itchy scar, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, "I'm new here, so I don't know where or when my station is."

"Oh!" He laughed. "Your station is at the entrance. You take the first shift on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the second shift on Tuesday and Thursday."

"Thanks." I opened the door and went directly outside, standing on the opposite side as the other guard. I nodded at him and he nodded at me. This started our very distant and strange friendship, if that's what you would call it. We never really talked or really did anything apart from work, so it was more like an acquaintanceship.

For a while, it was the same thing over and over again. I'd get to iHop at 5:30 AM to meet up with Joseph, go to the diner at 6:00 AM and either go straight to the back room or to my post, then leave work at 8:30 PM. I faked a few smiles, complimented a few people, chatted about nothing in particular, and usually everyone was happy. Usually. After work, I went home and watched TV until I fell asleep. Rinse and repeat.

The child aspect was a little hard for me. They were too loud and wanted too much attention all of the time, no matter what they were doing. Sometimes they would talk to me about strange things like monsters under the floor or the animatronics going insane and destroying the world. I indulged their fantasies. I played along with them, smiling and laughing at the right times.

Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. They seemed like exactly the same dull day over and over again. Talking with Joseph was always a pleasure, true, but even his eccentric personality couldn't counter the repetitiveness of the daily life of a security guard at a family diner. Every so often, a child would try to run off, but they had small legs and were quite easy to over power. A few quick strides and they were unhappily back in their parents arms in no time. I was bored and annoyed with my work, but it gave me money and a place to be during the work hours, so I didn't complain.

The worst days were birthdays. There would be about 5-10 different snot-nosed brats being dropped off by their parents and left to run around, screaming at the top of their lungs and waiting for the animatronics to feed them more cake. I was so relieved that I wasn't in the spring-locked suits like Joseph during those shifts.

After work we would sometimes go out for a drink then just awkwardly sit at the end of the bar, far away from anyone else, and chat about small things. Most of the time, I wouldn't even have to open my mouth. That was one of the good things about Joseph. He could make up both sides of a conversation by himself. He would often complain about the children's lack of respect for the workers inside of the suits, and I would nod. Still, his job was to keep the children happy, and he sure was able to accomplish it. The parties all left with nearly 100% satisfaction rate, and our boss couldn't be happier. It was said that he might increase our wages in a few months. I could really use the money.

Now, I was 8 months into the job. Most of the other employees thought I was pleasant and easy to talk to, and I thanked them for their compliments, returning them with smooth lies about them. Today, I had accidentally slept in, but luckily it was a Tuesday, so all I had missed was breakfast with Joseph, which was obvious by his annoyed voicemail messages oh my phone. I was driving to work for the late shift when I got a call from my manager. I looked at my mobile, confused, and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" Jerry's enthusiastic voice startled me. "I just wanted to warn you about something."

"Yeah?" I slammed on the brakes to avoid a pedestrian. They should have learned to watch cars from their parents!

"Stan isn't here today." He sighed. "He called in sick. Said it was a bad case of the flu, and that he wouldn't be back for a few days, just in case."

"Alright. Thanks for telling me." I turned into the parking lot and parked the car near the entrance. "I'll be heading inside in a second." I hung up the phone and waited for a second before leaving my car and trying to wrap around the back entrance. The sound of crying hit my ears like a sliced onion stings the eyes. This was not going to help my foul mood.

A child was curled up near the back of the building, bawling his eyes out. He wore nice, clean clothing, so he was most likely a customer who was about to leave. So why the hell wasn't he happy? I was sure it wasn't Joseph's fault. It must just have been the kid. But how do you make a child stop crying? I was at a loss for words, so I decided to confront him.

"Hey, kid." I walked over to him and looked around. The roads were deserted along the road at the back of the diner. "Why aren't you inside."

"They don't want me!" He sobbed. This confused me. If he meant Fredbear and Bonnie, or Joseph and Tim, he should know that it's their job to entertain him.

"You're being ridiculous. Just go inside." I tried to pick him up, but as soon as I touched his shoulders, he began to scream, kicking and flailing out of my grip. This child was REALLY starting to piss me off.

"Stop struggling!" My grip tightened around arms and I was able to get him to his feet. "You'll be happy inside! We're supposed to keep you happy. Stop crying!"

"Let go!" He shrieked, but I had gripped so tightly that he couldn't get out of it. Then, he began to scream while he was sobbing. What did he think he was doing? This kid was going to get me fired.

Why didn't he stop crying?

Why didn't he stop crying?!

Anger like I have never felt before began to bubble up in my stomach. The world went red and I spun the child around. I was furious. The anger coiled up in me like a snake, and suddenly I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Authors Notes

Heya, guys! My name is REM (aka SuperwholockedREM) and I'm one of the two writers of this story. We've been working on this thing for a while and we've actually had to start the whole thing over a couple of times before we were able to get it back to where it was before.

I don't know about TwoSents, but this is the hardest thing I have ever tried to write. As you will probably be able to tell from our notes, neither of us are sociopaths or psychopaths. It was at first, just a ridiculous challenge, and the POV was actually one of the things that caused us to restart. I kinda wanted to write it in third person, but TwoSents wanted it to be in first person, and I am ridiculously indecisive about everything, so you can guess who won that round. It's a lot easier to write about the outer appearances of people that you have never had the misfortune of being than to write their inner most thoughts. But I was finally able to pull my crap together, sit down in my chair, and do a decent amount of research on sociopaths. Only then could I even attempt to write from Vincent's perspective.

Anyone who gets the reference to WTNV gets a virtual hug and a virtual pint of ice cream.

Anyway, for my other readers from my other account: I PROMISE you, NtH will be completed eventually! I... just... haven't gotten bitten on the butt by a plot bunny, yet. I want to wrap it up relatively soon, but all of the endings I was previously thinking of were really long to get to! I never forgot about you guys. I just have been... busy... with stuff... and... OKAYITWASMARKIPLIERANDHOMESTUCKANDFNAF. CaA, I am going to wrap that one up soon! I know. About two years in the making, then a little less than a year long hiatus. What an awful, terrible writer. I apologize profusely all I can do is hope and PRAY that you all still think I'm worth it. Not sure which one I'll work on first. We'll just have to see!

I know, I know. I'm still that whiny author. Please consider reviewing, following, and/or favoriting! Seriously, it boosts up our production by 10 fold. Or at least for me it does!

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on the other side!
REM

And this is the second author, Twosents. A lot of you have probably never heard my name before. Trust me when I say that this is for the best. I am the second of the two writers that worked and is working on "You Can't".

Now writing takes a boatload of effort, I can say. I probably wouldn't have had the motivation to write this without REM practically carrying both our weights (haha, thanks REM). This was definitely a challenge to start, but I feel like one we got the ball rolling, it rolled itself down a hill, into a chasm, through hell, and back out the other side. We have plans for you, Dear, unsuspecting Reader. Big plans.

Hopefully this marks the beginning of my not-terrible writing carrier. That would be great. And constructive criticisms would be greatly appreciated. I hope you follow our story to the bitter end. I'd appreciate any follows/favorites. It let's us know we aren't just screaming words into the deep, vast abyss that is the internet. We're screaming words at the people who dwell in the deep, vast abyss that is the internet.

Something Big is coming, Dear Reader.

Something Big. ~T.S.