[Author's note: This whole fanfiction is based off this video: watch?v=TsmiwZvcJd8 You don't have to watch it, but you may not get the full effect without watching it! I'm rusty on writing, so any critiques are definitely welcome! Also I might change Phone Guy's name in this, but I can't think of a good name.]
Some people just love to corrupt things made for children, don't they? Scott slammed his car door and stepped into the dim, vacant parking lot. They were just rumors. False ones at that. Of course, bad publicity was enough to close down a family entertainment business and ruin the hopes and dreams of children everywhere.
After Scott walked a bit, he looked up at the sign of the pizzeria, which glinted harshly from the sunrise and stung his eyes. Already the building seemed to rot, yet is after tomorrow the business will officially close. Today, the premises are to be totally unoccupied, except, for well, him, and he was assigned to quickly make sure the building was as empty as it was supposed to be.
Vexedly, Scott jammed the keys into a side entrance. As he walked in, humid mildewy air assaulted his nose, as usual. Something felt...uneasy...though. Even after he flipped on the flickering lights, the pizzeria seemed so desolate without anyone in it. Well, he wasn't completely alone. His animatronic friends would be more than happy to embrace him! Heh. Thankfully, they don't usually leave the showroom during their day mode, though, so he should be fine. No worries!
Except, he didn't feel completely alone as he walked through the endless hall. There lurked a pressing presence in every direction, and the children's drawings taped to the wall seemed to blink in his fuzzy vision, but he shook it off. There was nothing to worry about, he assured himself.
Then, he saw a gold figure gleam under a flickering light across the far end of the hall, nearby the security office. The shape was indiscernible from that distance- it just looked like a blob or a pile slumped on the ground. As he approached the end of the hall again, his throat tightened and the figure began to take form. It looked like old Chica, then Freddy, and then...
He stood ten feet away from Golden Freddy. What on Earth was it doing out of the safe room?! The spring animatronics were decommissioned ages ago. They were not to be worn, not to be activated, not to exist. No. No no no no. This wasn't right. To make it worse, as he walked closer to the bear, he saw unidentifiable dark splotches that were definitely not there beforehand. He would know.
Eerie, deep garble emitted from the golden bear. This was an error that occurred whenever the spring animatronics were worn- when they used to be worn- as the compressed voice box would still sometimes activate. Someone could be in it. Scott slowly lowered himself on the ground so that he was kneeling right in front of the animatronic.
More than anything, Scott wanted his friend and coworker, the day guard, to be at his side. Scott always wished he could be as resourceful and collected as him. He took a shaky breath and peered into the empty eye sockets, but couldn't see anything in the blackness. Reluctantly, he raised his trembling arms to remove the face. When his hands were on the sides of the head, he hesitated.
It was his job, his obligation. He couldn't let his feelings get in the way, so he tried imagining the day guard, Ben, sitting next to him and smiling.
That didn't...exactly work, as he actually began to hear his buddy laugh. Of course, Scott's mind was just playing tricks on him, but he was nevertheless startled.
So, instead, he sought for the answer to the mystery behind this mischief in the security office, which would be more efficient, anyway. Surely the tapes from last night wouldn't already be erased. A cursory, anxious scan from everything from midnight to 6 AM revealed nothing except the animatronics malfunctioning and acting haywire, as expected. No biggie! Throughout the night, Golden Freddy remained stationary at the spot Scott found him, so he tried the tapes from 9 PM to midnight.
Movement could occasionally be seen in the shadows from the camera blind spots. It almost seemed deliberate. The camera lights never seemed to turn on. Golden Freddy wasn't anywhere yet, but giggling children could be heard.
Exactly when the clock struck 11, a couple kids ran from underneath the Main Hall's camera blind spot and dispersed into various rooms. Scott recognized the kids, as they went to Fazbear's that last evening. In fact, he remembered that one of the boys was crying that evening alone in a corner of the Kid's Cove, because Foxy was nowhere to be found. Scott remembered comforting him and telling him that Foxy was his favorite, too, but he was on a pirate adventure right now. The boy's face lit up as they then talked about what Foxy could be doing on his voyage.
Finally, a little later, Golden Freddy made his appearance on the monitor and interrupted Scott's flashback. Golden Freddy casually marched from the safe room to various rooms and eventually wandered into Party Room #1.
Once Golden Freddy walked over to the blind spot, there was an agonizing scream- a child's scream. It sounded like the boy Scott talked to Foxy about. Scott almost gagged. This can't be real. No. That child couldn't really be hurt. He just was surprised, right?
Lifeless silence followed, and a tiny dismembered hand splattered into view across the floor. Golden Freddy walked out unscathed, covered in what appeared to be blood.
Losing all strength, Scott's whole body trembled, and he collapsed hard to the ground. Moments after he hit the floor, his stomach twisted in unimaginably painful contortions, and he gagged several times. As he remained on the ground hyperventilating, stinging tears blurred his vision. He felt like the whole thing was his fault.
Over the monitor, another shrill scream cried. He shot straight up. As he reached for the monitor cord, he heard a laugh from the audio. A very familiar laugh. It was someone he knew. Then, he yanked out the cord before another scream could happen, but to his marvelous luck, a scream from a third child yelped for help right as he did so.
Wiping his eyes, Scott walked out of the security office to the three dreaded locations. In each spot, there was no kid there- only rusty blood puddles and smears. The scene in Party Room #1 still had the hand and the words, "Now you can be Foxy!" scribbled with blood on the wall. Scott's whole body burned of livid hatred to the murderer, yet he felt heavy, drowning in melancholy for the poor children. They were tortured by someone they admired and trusted. He admired and trusted him, too.
Metallic and distorted screams could be heard as Scott trudged out of the party room. The racket grew as he followed the source, which ended up being the showroom. He carefully peered in and witnessed all of the animatronics twitching in unnatural, uncanny ways and screeching. Some of them had dark fluids expel from their orifices. Scott gulped the lump in his throat. The Toys could hear this and simultaneously turned their heads silently to his direction. And then they just...stared.
Extreme helplessness overcame Scott. For the first time, he realized could die at any moment. Scott immediately bolted to the safety of the security office. Once he was there, he looked back. None of them appeared to follow. He sighed in relief.
Golden Freddy, Scott remembered. He didn't recall seeing him again outside the office as he sprinted back, so he checked again. It was missing.
Scott picked up the office's bright red phone and punched in 911.
Under his breath, Scott gasped, "Hello? Hello hello?" He didn't wait for the operator to answer first.
"Hello, 911," a monotonous, deep woman's voice replied. "What is your emergency?"
"Three kids...at least three...last night...they were..." Scott couldn't continue. He began hyperventilating again.
Now the operator seemed more concerned and urgently asked, "Injured? Killed? Sir, are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?"
There was a click. "Uh, yes, to, well, everything but the ambulance."
"Okay. Where was this and when?" the operator asked in an echoey voice. Perhaps she put him on speaker phone.
"Here, at the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza on 28th. Around 11 PM," he answered.
"Do you know the identity of the perpetrator?"
"Uh, y-yeah-"
"It's me," a guttural male voice interrupted.
Scott froze in fear. Electricity shot through his veins. He couldn't possibly still be here.
"That...that wasn't me. That was, uh-" Scott stammered, interrupted once again. This time, it was that familiar laugh on the other end and a click.
Scott looked around for any means of escape. The vents were a bit risky, as it would be virtually impossible to escape anything unwanted in them. That left the long hall.
"Are you there?" the operator asked.
"Sorry," Scott responded. He looked down. The Freddy head! That would ensure his safety from the rogue animatronics, should he run into them. Well, safety from most of them, at least. As he reached for the Freddy head, he added, "Are there anymore questions?"
Suddenly, Scott felt a powerful tug and rip. He turned around in his chair. Standing there was his coworker, the day guard, Ben. Ben flashed a huge, toothy grin as he dangled the phone cord as if it were a prized fish.
Scott's body was jelly. It simultaneously shook from morbid fear and burning hatred. He drove his fist to his coworker's face. However, Ben caught Scott's flying arm before it reached the desired destination. Without hesitation, Scott tried again with his other fist, only to have the same result.
Ben squeezed Scott's forearms tighter and pleaded, "I do have a question for you." The hazy eyes narrowed in pride, and the crooked smile widened. "Okay. Okay, okay. Okay. I got it."
Desperately, Scott tried to rip his arms away, but it was futile.
"How can you talk to me...on the phone," Ben continued, "if it doesn't have a cord attached?"
Maniacal laughter exploded from Ben, as if he just told the funniest joke in the world. He then threw Scott to the ground. Scott's head hit the ground and throbbed in pain. He tried to stand up again, but Ben kicked his face and locked him on the ground. Ben picked up the nearby phone cord he dropped.
"Why," Scott's voice cracked.
"You can't," Ben stated. He smiled coldly and strung the phone cord behind Scott's neck.
"Uh, what?"
"You can't talk on the phone without the cord!"
The day guard just...lost it. He cackled so hard that he ran out of breath and his eyes watered. He then wrung the cord tightly around Scott's neck several times. In both ends, Ben held each end of the cord and yanked the ends very hard, as if they were horse reins.
Scott gasped for air. He could only muster a little bit of air. Not enough. Not nearly enough. The cord layers twisted and pinched the skin all around his neck. Exhausted, he tried to pull the cords around his neck by stretching them, but they were too taut. Pulling the ends Ben was pulling on in the opposite direction didn't help, either- it only made Ben pull even harder.
This couldn't be the end. There was so much Scott wanted to do: have his beautiful fiancée finally move in with him, get married, have children...
Scott tried to imagine his friend's face for comfort. Oh wait. He looked up at Ben's face. His face looked like a clown's, with his obnoxious, impossibly large grin and sharply arched eyebrows. A large portion of Ben's eyes showed the maggot whites of his eyes. His pupils were small pinpoints trying to probe into his soul. Ben was still laughing hysterically.
That hideous face couldn't be the last thing Scott saw. He tried struggling again, but all of his senses began to die. Everything faded into black.
Scott woke up. He was still on the same cold, hard floor of the security office. The only noise was the droning fan. Around his neck hung the cord loosely. His temples throbbed.
There was an additional obvious struggle, as monitors were shattered and pushed to the floor and papers were scattered everywhere. The film was ripped out of the security tape videos.
Scott sighed and straightened out the room. When he finished, he put on the Freddy head to patrol the building to make sure it was as empty as it was supposed to be. Someone had to do this job.