A/N: I don't really like writing Author's Notes as much as I used to, but I feel like it is necessary here, especially for the first chapter. In this chapter (and the rest of the story) there's content that will upset some people, and I feel like giving a heads up. This story has many mentally ill characters, and because this is set in our world, they will not always be seen in the best light. This only reflects the character's views and not mine. I will do my best to portray all illnesses accurately, but if I've messed up somewhere, please let me know. Representation is important! Also, a note to my fellow transfolk out there: One of the characters in this story is often misgendered by the other characters. Trust me, I actually cried writing this story because I felt awful, since he's only a little boy. All of that said; I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, and leave feedback with your thoughts! Thank you! :)
Today would be the start of everything.
That was what Scott Nohtwac thought when he woke up to the refreshing new air in his apartment. He'd just moved out of his parent's house a month ago, so the place was still fairly new to him. There was also his 21st birthday in approximately two weeks, followed by the ever-exciting news that he still had an excruciating two years of college left. Many things were going well for him lately, and he could feel a familiar hum of joy so strongly it seemed he could also hear it.
Oh wait, that was just his alarm clock.
Groggy, Scott's hand fumbled from underneath the black-and-white duvet, slamming the "OFF" button. The screaming sound died instantaneously, like the victim of a car crash, but his internal hum lived on. It urged him to worm his way out of the warm nighttime cover he had been slumbering in. That was right – he had to do a day shift today. Luckily, his job rarely called for such a feat, since he had taken the role of night watch.
Today would be his first day on the job at a... God, he couldn't remember. It was – he took a quick glance at the dim clock resting by his bed – 9:23 in the morning? That seemed right, though Scott was nearsighted slightly, so he could have been wrong. He needed to report for work at 10 sharp so he could familiarize himself with the building.
As Scott stood up, he recalled where he was working now, which almost made him fall back down onto the bed again and curl up into a ball. Freddy Fazbear's Mental Asylum. His job would be to prevent the patients from damaging each other, the facilities, or themselves. Some also tried to escape at night. He couldn't allow that, either.
Sounds more like a prison to me, he thought while dressing himself in the uniform he recieved the day his application had been accepted. Purple had never looked well on him, and this outfit was no exception. The top was made of a not-soft, not-scratchy material, dyed a vibrant purple that edged on pink. The pants were a much darker shade, recognizable because it was the same purple old ladies wore constantly. On his shirt tag, the words "Scott: Nightwatch" were scrawled in fun letters. Somehow, the font didn't seem fitting.
He exited his personal room to head to the kitchen. As he placed a single slice of white bread in the toaster, Scott reassured himself. It's just a job, he reminded himself. Just another way of swimming through the river of life. The facilities were safe enough. Nothing bad has ever happened to any former workers, so they clearly don't have a bad record. Uh, well, nothing that I've heard-
Just then the toaster zinged, presenting proudly a piece of browned bread. Of course Scott jumped somewhat, but then he regained himself and took a few deep breaths, reaching for the toast and hurrying to eat it. His eyes settled on the microwave's clock time: It was already 9:46.
Not to be late on the first day, the new employee rushed to ready himself. The toast disappeared in a few large bites. Scott brushed a comb through his hair as well. When it seemed as though everything had been done, he grabbed his wallet and keys, making sure to lock the apartment door behind him. Better safe than sorry.
The drive there was actually rather short. It seemed to be seven minutes at most, and he was earlier than he expected to be – his microwave had been ten minutes later than the actual time – but it was alright. Scott parked his car in the far section of the parking lot and stepped out.
He didn't expect the building to be so nice. For some strange company policy reason, Scott had never had his interview at the hospital itself. Was it possible that the horrors inside would scare him away?
I shouldn't even think thoughts like that. They had their reasons for not inviting him to the building; so long as he got a paycheck at the end of the week, it was none of his business. He heard the place paid pretty well. Considering the difficulty of the job and how expensive the near mansion-sized facility was, that made an awful lot of sense. The front sign was painted, "Freddy Fazbear's Mental Asylum" with balloons also drawn in sloppily. The well-painted text contrasted the child-like quality of the drawings, but that was only the first of many odd things Scott would see.
Wind wooshed past his ears as he entered the building through solid white doors. The atmosphere of the place was every bit like that of a hospital; the medical smell in the air of sanitized objects and disinfectant, the strict white walls that enforced normalcy, children's drawings plastered up all around. What attempted to give off a vibe of safety and control instead came off as unnerving.
On the far end of the lobby there was an office. Inside was a tall man wearing the same uniform as Scott. Upon closer inspection (as Scott was walking towards the office) he had a spiky ponytail of either blonde or brunette hair – it was hard to tell; it seemed to be in-between – stubble pasted on a strong chin, and mischievous blue eyes. He didn't seem to notice Scott walking towards him until he opened the office door and shyly walked in, taking a quiet but deep breath.
"Uh, hello," Scott greeted, still observing the other man's body in an awkward silence. He looked to be around his own age; his posture was overall informal, his hair was definitely a dirty blonde on second inspection, and he had an unfocused look to him, as if he couldn't concentrate. The man (whose nametag, he now noted, said "Vincent: Caretaker") seemed to awake from a daze, then faced Scott with an impossible grin.
"Hi there! So you're joining our team here at the Fred house, aren't you?" Vincent's eyes raked down the new man's body with a curiosity that Scott had never seen before. It resembled hunger, but no, there was something different – never mind that, he had a job to focus on, not his co-worker... Scott simply nodded a response, allowing the other to continue talking.
"Great! Let's see, your name is-" Before Scott had a chance to formally introduce himself, Vincent had grabbed his name tag and was peering at the name on it, as if he hadn't been able to see it from farther away. He blinked exactly once. "Scott. That's a fitting name for a gentleman like yourself~" His voice seemed to fluctuate, as if he were perhaps teasing, and the employee mentioned could feel his cheeks warm up. The taller man stepped away, looking around the bland office room for something.
"Well, uh, this is just my first day... I was told to come during the day for job training." Scott's voice was not much more than a quiet rambling. Vincent looked back at him with the same overly-excited smile that made him seem almost unstable, then turned his attention to a computer that had a map in the corner of several different rooms. Each one was labeled in some form by which room it displayed on camera, and he demonstrated that "with a click you change the room being shown – it's that simple."
"So, I just, uh…" Scott had to lean over Vincent and guide the mouse, clicking between the cameras into each patient's room. Each room had a blind spot; the bathroom's blind spot was of course near the toilet, in each patient's room the camera could not see their bed completely, and the lobby camera was unable to see the office door. For some odd reason, only half of the kitchen camera could see; the other half was blackened out.
Vincent grabbed a thin sheet of white paper that had faded ink on it. He hummed to himself as he read through it, and Scott looked over his shoulder at the page, which outlined his working schedule. "So you're our nightshift man, huh? Let's see. Monday through Friday you'll work from 12 AM to 6 AM, and on Wednesdays and Saturdays you'll also be managing the day shift with me. Sounds fun, huh?" Though his voice lacked a sarcastic tone, the point still came across clearly.
Scott simply nodded. Vincent stood from the swiveling computer chair and pointed out a few other basic necessities in the office, also demonstrating how to use them. There was a phone on the corner of the desk in case he needed to call the police or an ambulance for any reason, which was a slightly alarming thought. It must have shown on Scott's face, because Vincent reassured him "you'll likely only use it to call if there's a shift change in the schedule." Next was the board to the right of the desk, which orchestrated schedule changes and employee notifications. Under the board was a filing cabinet with information on each patient inside.
As he went to reach for the upper drawer, Vincent pulled his hand away with expert speed. This puzzled Scott. "I was only looking for the patient files. I'm supposed to learn about them, right?" He blinked, daring the other employee to correct him if he was wrong. He was willing to learn from his mistakes if he had made them. If.
"That's the employee and building information drawer, hun. You don't have clearance for those files yet. The patient information is the bottom drawer." Vincent bent down and opened the metal cabinet's lower half, skimming through folders and pulling out whatever he deemed important for Scott to know. When he was done, he stood and handed Scott six sickly yellow folders, then kicked the drawer shut with his foot.
- Patient File One: Chica Hernandez
Date Admitted: Dec. 10, 1994
Sex: [F]
Age: 32 years
Reason(s): Ms. Hernandez's family is incapable of dealing with her. Recently she was caught squawking at a small child; the terrified child then reported the incident to their parents, and they made sure her family knew about it. She has displayed this behavior in the past and seems to insist that she is, in fact, a chicken.
Illness(es): Ms. Hernandez has been diagnosed as severely autistic.
Primary Caretaker: -insert a scrawled out name here- Vincent Elprup
Facts Worth Noting/Other: Chica seems to do best when she is with her lifelong best friend Bonnie. Please keep them in separate rooms, however, as her squawking noises seem to make him very anxious. On her own, Ms. Hernandez is generally harmless and will not try to leave the building. She may exit her room occasionally to explore out of sheer curiosity. Do not be alarmed if she enters your office; stay still and she will go away on her own terms. If Bonnie attempts to escape the building, she will follow.
- Patient File Two: Bonnie Jenkens
Date Admitted: Dec. 13, 1994
Sex: [M]
Age: 34 years
Reason(s): Mr. Jenkens has been prone to violent schizophrenic episodes in the past few weeks. Several days ago, an outburst left several people injured. Instead of putting their family member in jail, Mr. Jenkens's family has placed him here, where he'll be safe from harm to himself or others.
Illness(es): Mr. Jenkens is schizophrenic and also seems to have some level of anxiety.
Primary Caretaker: -insert a scrawled out name here- Vincent Elprup
Facts Worth Nothing: Bonnie is very anxious around new people. He does best with his closest friend Chica, but keep them in separate rooms. He is very prone to episodes and may not recognize you as a normal human during one. In the event that he is experiencing violent tendencies, keep Mr. Jenkens in his room. He is particularly prone to episodes at night. His hallucinations may lead him to believe he is trapped in the building, so he may try to escape. Prevent that. If Bonnie tries to leave, Chica may follow.
- Patient File Three: Faelyn Fazbera
Date Admitted: June 26, 2012
Sex: [F]
Age: 12 years
Reason(s): Ms. Fazbera comes from a wealthy family. However, she is very prone to acting up, and the Fazberas consider her to be a liability. Faelyn has also shown issues with her gender identity; reportedly she has requested to be called "Freddy" and referred to as a he. In her drawings she looks much like a boy. Her family is hoping that her stay here at Fazbear's will clear her head.
Illness(es): Faelyn is autistic and also suffering from Gender Identity Disorder.
Primary Caretaker: Vincent Elprup
Facts Worth Noting: Faelyn is a very sweet girl. She is especially good with children, but very awkward around adults. She doesn't talk much, and when she does, it is little more than a few words. Oftentimes she will wander about at night, but rarely does she attempt to leave the building. You may find her art hung up about the walls. Also to note: She will be much more compliant if you refer to her as Freddy, though her family has requested that we call her by her birth name. If she enters the office, politely escort her back to her room.
- Patient File Four: Philip Fentsworth
Date Admitted: August 17, 2014
Sex: [M]
Age: 17 years
Reason(s): Philip's bipolar episodes have caused them to lash out at others, and they are too anti-social to fit in with normal society. Hopefully their stay here will help them get better, but if not, they may spend the rest of their life in mental hospitals. They are also experiencing an identity crisis, but their family does not seem to find it problematic that "Foxy" refers to themself as agender, and they have asked us to do the same.
Illness(es): Philip has Bipolar Disorder and Gender Identity Disorder.
Primary Caretaker: -scribbled out name-
Facts Worth Noting: Philip prefers being called Foxy and uses 'they' pronouns. They will stay in their room most of the time, as they don't like being around other people. Don't exempt them from the weekly Social Group they are supposed to attend; they need practice with being social. They have a phobia of being watched and may disable the cameras at times. Do not allow them to enter the office or another patient's room at night. If they get in somehow, you may need to call the police.
- Patient File Five: BB + JJ Parsons
Date Admitted: February 3, 2013
Sex: [M + F]
Age: 11 years
Reason(s): The twins stopped speaking one day and haven't said a word since; they both self-harm and seem depressed. They are in the hospital to be protected from themselves.
Illness(es): The mute twins are depressed and may be suffering from PTSD, but no one knows why yet.
Primary Caretaker: -scribbled out name-
Facts Worth Noting: BB + JJ are both very friendly. They do have a tendency to pull pranks, however. If you hear odd sounds or find objects displaced, it's probably them. If they enter your office, stay still and they will eventually leave. They may try to leave the building (don't let them.)
There was a sixth file that Scott had not yet read through. He was about to before Vincent swiped it from him, holding it close. His facial features gave off a sense of alarm, but the laugh that followed was free of any fear. It created a grating dissonance.
"I don't know how that got in there! Whew. My bad. This isn't a patient file, not at all..." The man filed it away in the upper cabinet. Vincent then calmed and moved on to the next part of job training. He let out a small chuckle as if excited.
"Now, it's time to meet the patients!"