I'm trying something new, so I don't really know whether or not I'll be making "this" an official thing yet. Anyways, just enjoy what I have so far! If you're feeling extra generous, feedback would mean a lot to me ;p DISCLAIMER: I don't own FNAF or any of its related works. You'll have to look at Scott Cawthon for that.

Five Night's at Freddy's - The New Guy

"Ummm, what'd you say your name was again? Mitchell? McKay?"

"It's Michael."

"Right. My apologies Michelle."

Michael Schmidt nervously readjusted his the tie on his shirt even though it was already in proper placement for the millionth time that day. The 22-year-old man glanced nonchalantly around his employer's office, trying to give the impression that he had plenty other opportunities to find work besides this one. The office was smaller than he would have expected compared to his previous two jobs, but then again, this was a children's restaurant. Not much paperwork had to be done at a place like this. At least, not the job that Michael was hoping to apply for.

Michael was never perceived in anyone's eyes as a casanova. With his average height and weight for his age, he never really stood out from the crowd in his entire school life. Sure he had the occasional romantic infatuation with one or two girls, but it all generally ended the same way. In a sudden breakup after a few months of awkward interaction. Michael was currently living alone in a small one story house that was rather modern, yet affordable courtesy of a generous landlord.

Though he lived decently as of right now, his debts were stacking up and he had to find a way to sustain himself financially. He was laid off by his previous two bosses simply because he couldn't pull his weight in their professional company with high expectations and low tolerances towards anything and everything that hindered their progress. With him being fired twice so quickly and consecutively, it was hard to find a job without his resume being discarded after his potential employers took one look at his portfolio and saw his unfortunate streak of luck.

Thus, Michael ended up here. In a nearly rundown facility that provided entertainment for children with a possibility in their future for becoming a furry as well as serving them pizza as a self-proclaimed "24/7 main course". Of course, they only say this while they were still in open times, which entirely defeated the purpose of "24/7" pizza. If one did not pay attention, he or she would have presumed that Michael was applying for a job at Chuck-E-Cheese's Restaurant. But then again, animatronics served as the main attraction of this establishment, so that scratched that off the list. Michael would never have believed that he would ever be so economically down in his life that he would resort to practically begging for a job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

Michael would never have believed that he would ever be so economically down in his life that he would resort to practically begging for a job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

Michael rubbed two fingers underneath his neck, scratching the small hairs that covered most of his chin and jawline in an efforts to hide his slight exasperation when his current employer completely butchered his first name. He took in the features of the petite, yet slightly cluttered environment of the office. Papers were sprawled around in myriad places, but upon closer inspection, they were actually small clippings of newspapers regarding the pizzeria and its animatronics that resided within it.

A ceiling fan that was hanging a fair distance above both Michael's and his employer's head performed its revolutions lazily, almost to the point that simply turning it off would have had the same effect as the slowly spinning blades. The walls of the office were once made of polished marble, but it had grown neglected over the several years that the pizzeria functioned. It now stood neglected with its former shiny luster having been dulled for quite some time now. The wooden mahogany floor looked well waxed, which contradicted the current appearance of the walls.

Whoever the custodians were in this place, they deserved to have their moment of praise. Or have their wages docked. It all depended on personal viewpoint over the disregarded state of the walls or the properly maintained floor. At least Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria managed to pass their health inspection. That had to count for something, right?

Michael looked across the slightly messy table to meet the eyes of his employer, who was currently bent over his papers for a generous amount of time by now. Other than the occasional glance directed towards the hopeful job applicant, his employer, otherwise known as Joe Hughes, kept his attention focused upon Michael's work record and resume. The slim portfolio he was examining looked as impassive as ever, not wanting to either help Michael's employment problem or burden it even more.

That's what Michael thought at least. Everything seemed perfectly fine (for the most part) up until Mr. Hughes brought up his online work record on the outdated computer that lay nearly dilapidated on the sturdy office desk. His eyebrows quirked upwards slightly in a seemingly surprised manner, but still did not say a word. Michael noticed this as the monitor was angled in such a way that he could barely see in to observe what his employer was doing.

When Michael noticed that the two previous jobs that he had last worked for pop up first upon his online work record, he bit his lip to suppress the profanities that were about to escape in a rush of disappointment and betrayal. His most recent boss had promised to at least put in a good word for him, but it seemed that he had already forgotten or didn't even care to assist Michael in his online resume.

The job applicant slumped in his seat and firmly gripped his tie as if he wanted to strangle the life out of it. The chair he sat on creaked in protest, and Mr. Hughes noticed his employee's sudden deflation. Both mentally as well as physically. He still did not say a word. He knew that Michael had peeked in on his screen, as he deliberately moved his monitor to tempt him to look in on his job record prior to the interview.

Michael inwardly sighed. His employer had seen the last two attempts of his life at work and clearly did not look impressed with whatever text that was currently resting on his screen. Mr. Hughes still lacked any negative emotion across his facial features, but Michael could tell that the gears in his head were turning rapidly. Michael dared not to make another sound in case he interrupted the employer's train of thought.

Micheal loosened his death grip on the poor tie and tried to quietly sit back up on the chair while recomposing himself.

He still had a chance. Mr. Hughes still looked like he was deciding something, and not just giving him the boot right after he looked at his work record. Maybe Michael could pull through this interview with a job after all. He crossed his fingers underneath the office desk and out of his employer's sight nevertheless. It never hurt to be too careful, and maybe whoever was up there in the sky would bless Michael with a future job.

For now though, Mr. Hughes still looked indecisive. His steel blue eyes would glance back at the monitor, then Michael's resume, then at Michael himself, causing him to squirm uncomfortably and try to avoid his unwavering and calculating stare.

It went on like this for a seemingly endless amount of time in Michael's viewpoint. The nervous job applicant brought his gaze to look up at the analog clock that hung adjacent to where he was currently sitting. It was 6:20 in the morning, which surprised Michael. He arrived at 6 a.m sharp, and the interview seemed a whole lot longer than what he would have expected.

Michael gulped anxiously. He still had a pretty good chance of simply wasting his time and walking out with a heavy heart that was filled with disappointment, but he still tried to remain optimistic. Perhaps Mr. Hughes would take pity upon him and overlook his past errors. After all, you could never really judge someone until you've seen them in action, or in this case, working and showing what skills they can contribute for the greater good.

Michael too became lost in his own personal thoughts as the time went by. The old analog clock's second hand clicked loudly as it continued its endless revolution around the various tick marks and numbers that lay down on its inevitable path.

Just then, a loud exhale could be heard from Mr. Hughes. He promptly shut off his computer and placed Michael's resume within its respective portfolio. The sound of the computer booting down hummed loudly, showing just how quiet the two men were as they sat during the duration of the interview. A pin dropping could be prominently heard due to how silent the both of them had become.

Mr. Hughes once again fixed Michael with that unwavering stare of his, his poker face cleverly concealing what emotions he could have been feeling at the moment. Michael tried to meet his gaze respectfully, but quickly averted his eyes and tried to look at anything else but his employer. Mr. Hughes still did not react at Michael's discomfort, and only blinked his acutely cognizant eyes once before resuming his one-sided staredown.

Michael was definitely feeling uncomfortable at this point as time progressed and his employer had not said a single word yet. Mr. Hughes seemed purely content with just intimidating this possible employee into submission. The clock ticked loudly again, and its sure presence did not aid the awkward situation at all.

Just when Michael thought he was about to melt into a puddle full of anxiety, Mr. Hughes finally came out of his robotic state.

"Not doing too well on money, huh?"

"Er... No sir."

"Indeed..."

Hr. Hughes then leaned back leisurely on the back of his office chair. From what Michael could infer, this man has most certainly been at his job for quite some time now. Michael assumed the man to be in his late forties, but he still looked relatively young for a guy of his age. In fact, Michael even went as far as to believe Mr. Hughes was entering an uncommon form of a mid-life crisis. Mr. Hughes reached for a stray pen lying on his desk and chewed lightly on it, his eyes shifted upwards towards the ceiling as if in thought once more.

The employer had a button-up shirt that was probably intended to give himself a professional outlook, but it was unbuttoned all the way and it exposed his t-shirt. It had an image of three animatronics as well as the establishment's pizzeria logo over where the pocket protector resided. Mr. Hughes looked to be the kind of guy who wouldn't just judge someone by their appearance, much to Michael's relief. In fact, he seemed to have a relaxed, open-minded composure given the way he was now humming a tune that Michael could not place his finger on.

The humming stopped abruptly when Mr. Hughes became aware of a pair of eyes watching him intently, with a hint of uncertainty crossing his features. The employer took a quick glance at the clock and saw that it read 6:30.

"God," thought Mr. Hughes with a slight tinge of jealousy, "that annoying clock has been here even longer than I have, yet I haven't had a chance to replace it even once. I wish I had workers who were like that. Loyal and dedicated... Lord knows this generation needs more people who are actually committed to what they are doing. Speaking of which..."

Mr. Hughes scratched lightly on his scalp and frowned as he felt his slightly receding hairline. Getting old certainly had its perks, but it also had its disadvantages. Mostly the latter in his personal viewpoint on aging. Still, he felt he was far wiser as he was now other than when he was twenty and in the prime of his life. That being said, he looked over his potential employee, careful not to let him realize it for fear of him being labeled as creepy. Honestly, the best way to determine a man's character is to put light pressure over their comfortable boundaries, and Mr. Hughes figured that out after a couple years of him working as manager of the pizzeria.

He was indifferent with Schmidt's work background, though he made sure not to let him know that. Mr. Hughes would always play the devil's advocate to truly see the other side of someone's personality. At one point, Mr. Hughes even hired an ex-convict to be his night-guard, and he was proud to say that he was one of the few original members of the pizzeria that remained, even after the recent heat the restaurant underwent regarding the critically poor state of its animatronics, resulting in health problems.

Mr. Hughes shuddered when he remembered all the times the organization OSHA had to step in to ensure his workplace was safe and all the paperwork he had to sign to confirm his statements of the pizzeria being "perfectly fine". He knew that he'd regret saying that later. Hopefully, a lot later.

He noticed that Schmidt had an advanced academic engineer's degree within his announced skills, and was hoping to apply for an engineering job at this restaurant. In all honesty, Mr. Hughes thought Michael was overqualified for this job, even with his recent failed jobs. He'd never let him know that of course. It was always fun giving future employees the benefit of doubt, no matter how much the Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria needed good workers for minimum wage. It was all thanks to the capitalist economy, where you could hire someone with a master's degree to work as a janitor. Provided you play your cards in the right manner, obviously.

Anyways, Mr. Hughes liked what he saw for the most part on Michael's resume. He thought that he had already given the poor guy a hard enough time even without checking his working record, so he moved on. There was no more point in beating around the bush. Besides, Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria would open at 7 a.m sharp. Mr. Hughes had other things to do other than to torment his future employee.

The middle-aged man leaned forwards in his office chair to give Michael a more friendly face this time. The employee himself returned the glance this time with more curiosity than out of manners. Mr. Hughes smiled warmly at him before inhaling slowly. Michael's heart was pounding loudly and threatened to burst out of his chest due to the sheer anticipation that was racking his entire body. What would this man say about Michael's previous track record regarding his recent layoffs?

"You're hired."

"W- huh?"

"You got ears, chap? I said you're now an official employee at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Welcome to our extended and slightly awkward family kid."

Michael was shocked. Was he seriously hired? Just like that? It almost seemed unreal. His mouth was agape slightly as he tried to force the cognitive part of his anatomy to function again and come up with a comprehensible response. Mr. Hughes noticed this and chuckled in amusement.

"Ahh, the naivete of youth," thought the employer nostalgically, "It never ceases to interest me."

Eventually, Michael was able to make his lips move again. Mr. Hughes quirked an eyebrow, prompting the paranoid wreck of a man to voice his thoughts. The new employee was beyond grateful to have been accepted into working at the restaurant, and an engineer no less! That meant that he would have a decent wage since engineers were generally paid an elevated sum compared to, say, an office worker for example. Michael was even more grateful that he now had a way to pay the bills at his residence. He still tried not to sound too hysterically happy in front of his new superior in order to not make a fool out of himself on his first meeting.

"Thank you so, so much sir! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

Mr. Hughes chuckled again at his new employee's reaction.

"Like I said kid. You're in the family now, so call me Joe. I'm your new boss and the manager of this place. And I think I might have even the slightest idea of how important this job is to you, given your erm... 'economic troubles from the past'."

Upon hearing that, Michael rubbed the back of his neck in a slight put-off manner.

"Yeah... Would it help if I said that those were not entirely my fault?"

"No. But I'll hold you to those statements, Mr. Schmidt. I'm expecting great things from you."

"Right. I'll try my best not to disappoint you sir."

"That's the spirit I'm looking for! And without further ado, let's get you accustomed to the pizzeria's various rooms. The animatronics have been needing someone like you for quite some time now!"

"Er, yes sir." Michael decided that it would be for the best if he didn't ponder that last statement too much.

And with that, Mr. Hughes got up from his seat in the office. Michael was initially shocked to see that his new boss was standing proudly at 5'9, while he himself was blessed to be exactly three inches taller and meeting the criteria for a perfect 6 feet. Still, Michael took note of how confidently Joe carried himself, despite his assumedly usual relaxed exterior.

Michael's employer strutted out of the office in a brisk pace with Michael himself struggling to get up out of his chair to follow and keep up with him. The only door to Joe's office opened as the manager left swiftly, beckoning the newly hired employee to follow along. The door squeaked obnoxiously as it strained from the resistance of the rusted hinges, but it still served its purpose nevertheless. A faint light from the dining area bled into the space that the door left, and Michael had to squint his eyes as the first rays of the morning greeted him through the transparent windows.

Just outside the door, Joe said, "Come on, kid! Time is money! Lots of money!" The manager's sparkling eyes and amused smirk betrayed his lightheartedness towards him addressing Michael.

Michael walked and when he was at the doorframe, Joe resumed his quickened pace once more. As the two of them walked, Joe began stating random miscellaneous facts regarding the pizzeria in order to fill Michael in on some of the background information that may or may not come to use for him in the future. He still nodded respectfully, but most of the given information entered one ear and exited the other. Michael was only passively listening to what his manager was saying.

"To your left... Show Stage...where the animatronics are... To your right... Backstage...things you don't need to worry about... You're lucky we had renovations recently... We didn't even have the manager's office until... They had to use the cheapest marble due to our major budget cuts... We used to only have one office... We're headed there now..."

It was 6:35. Twenty-five minutes left until the pizzeria opened. Plenty of time to get the new employee accustomed. Joe tried to slow his breathing as well as his walking pace, but he was honestly far too excited to begin the day. The dining area went by him quickly and he entered the west hall, leaving Michael to hopefully tag along beside him. Michael himself was struggling to keep up as he wanted to take in all the rooms and sights, but Joe apparently had other ideas. The checkered tiles along the floor and the lower half of the west hall looked freshly painted but still did not look out of place. Just before Michael got there

Just before Michael got there, he felt an odd tingling sensation down the back of his spine. It felt like he was being watched intently by the three animatronics that stood supposedly in sleep mode on the stage. He felt himself tremble nervously as he readjusted his collar shirt before turning around swiftly to meet the perpetrators of his sudden sense of danger. Michael's eyes moved swiftly from side to side trying to see what it was that made his adrenaline threaten to burst but did not see anything out of the ordinary in the dining area.

He saw the three animatronics, still in sleep mode and with their heads slumped forwards as they recharged, or whatever they did when they entered that state. Michael saw a purple bunny on the left side with a red and white bass guitar, a chicken with a platter that had a cupcake with eyes that rested on its smooth surface, and in the center, he saw a bear with a top hat and a bow tie that was holding a microphone idly on his side.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure this out. Hello to you three, I guess. Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy, we'd better get well acquainted sooner or later. I've got this feeling that I'll be stuck here with you guys for quite some time..." Michael thought this as he reassured himself that there was nothing to be afraid of and that it was simply because he had too much caffeine prior to the interview. The man shook his head amusedly, reprimanding himself in his head as he turned around to keep up with the manager that was giving him quite the limited tour of the pizzeria.

Still, when Michael's back was turned to catch up with Joe, who was still walking at an elevated speed and oblivious of him talking only to himself, he couldn't help but to feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise with apprehension. Micheal was glad to leave the diner and to enter the west hall, where he felt that it was a little safer than being in such an open space.

Michael saw a wooden door halfway through his walk through the narrow west hall and noticed the sign on it that claimed it was the supply closet. He tried to open it and was not surprised to find out that it was locked. Michael looked for his manager again to find him standing outside another office with his foot tapping on the granite floor outside of it. His dress shoes clicked confidently and solidly every time it struck the floor, and even Joe himself was not sure if it was out of his impatience or his eagerness to show Michael the ropes. Michael chuckled sheepishly and went the rest of the distance across the straight hallway to where Joe was at.

Once he caught up, Joe walked into the small office and invited Michael to join him. Michael was initially shocked to find that the interior of this office was a lot smaller than Joe's office, as he thought that his manager's office was already small and compact enough as it already was. Joe seemed to notice this, and he smirked knowingly.

"Surprised? That's understandable. I told you our budget was probably significantly lower than was you're used to, given your previous two jobs. What were they again? It slipped my mind already. My bad."

"It's fine. I used to be a structural welder and then was an electrical engineer but as you can tell, it all went to hell. Pardon my language."

Joe hummed sympathetically. Michael must have really fallen far if he had to apply for a job at the pizzeria. Still, the manager would try his best to put his overqualified worker to good use, and for a fair wage. It was the least he could do.

Michael stepped uncertainly into the room, glancing around and taking in every detail of his assumed workspace for the duration of his time working at the pizzeria.

Author's Note: That's all I got so far :p Also, I'm pretty sure that this story will turn into a major AU, given the way I want this story to flow. I'll take things slow at first so I can make the exposition work better for my overall plot. Anyways, I'll see you next chapter!