"So don't leave me hanging Mike, what does it look like?"

"Like every other generic small-time pizza place, honestly," Mike leaned against his car casually, the flood lights shining against the side of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. It was a single-story rectangular building that looked more like a modified ranch house than a building made to house a hundred or so children. The front window panes were, from what he could see, painted with colorful murals of the mascot characters cheerfully waving to the people outside. Above the door, in neon red bubble letters (at least it wasn't Comic Sans so points there), was "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria". The main man himself leaning casually against the F, microphone tilted towards his muzzle. "I'm kind of disappointed, really."

"Oh?"

"Yeah I mean," Mike turned off the flood lights and collected his camera bag from the passenger's seat, holding his cellphone to his ear with his shoulder. "When I was a kid, Freddy Fazbear's was the place to be. If you didn't go at least once you were a dork."

"So you went everyday, of course."

"Not everyday," Mike defended. He closed the car door as quietly as possible. "It's just...it was amazing back in the day. Like, as soon as you walked through those doors you were in another world. This place looks like something you'd take your kids to because it's the cheaper option."

"If it's any consolation, Chuck e Cheeses has a horrible reputation. I can tell you stories that would give you nightmares."

"Please don't," Mike checked his watch and clicked his tongue. "Anyway, my shift starts in ten minutes. I'll see you at breakfast, John. Love you."

"Hmm~ love you too, Mikey-boo." With an affectionate sigh, Mike flipped his phone shut and stuffed it in his uniform slacks. He adjusted the bill of his cap and nodded to himself confidently. Five nights would be more than enough time to figure out if this place really was as haunted as the stories said it was. Rumors about supernatural occurrences had been passed around for nearly twenty years now; what paranormal investigator wouldn't want to check it out at least once? Even if it wasn't haunted, and those stories were just something to provide a more fantastical explanation to the franchise's spiral into near bankruptcy, a part of him wanted to see his childhood icons before they were gone for good. Some sort of closure, he supposed.

As he approached the front doors of the pizzeria, he saw someone else walk out- one of the employees probably. Mike waved to him, and the figure gave a timid wave in return. "Hey there!" He called out as he approached, "I'm the new night guard, Mike Schmidt. I... don't think I saw you at my orientation..." he trailed off, looking the other man up and down. He was a tall, slender man with light spots against his skin (Mike recognized it as vitilligo), and dark, close-cut hair. He looked like he needed a good night's sleep, or something, given the heavy bags under his eyes.

"No, you didn't. I, um, wasn't able to come in that day." He coughed into a fist and wrung his hands together. Mike tried not to stare- or to make his thoughts blatantly obvious. The guy was jittier than someone on way too caffeine, with the way his eyes darted around nervously. "I- my name is Scott," he offered a slightly trembling hand to Mike, "Scott Irving. Head of Security here actually, heh."

"Nice to meet you, but... are you okay? Your palms are sweating."

"Are they? Sorry." Scott took his hand away hurriedly, "It's just that- I get a little... uneasy at night. Anyway, I shouldn't keep you too long. Just one more thing," he steepled his fingers, "there's a message machine in the office. Now, you can chose to ignore this if you want, but I recorded something for you. It just has some tips and instructions that might not have been covered during orientation, y'know. Day after tomorrow, when it's your shift again, there will be another one, so on and so forth."

"Ooookay, thank you. Will I be needing them?"

"Probably not," Scott waved his hand dismissively, "it's just my job to make sure new employees are acclimated. A-anyway, I'll let you get to it. See you at 6." He patted Mike's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before half-running to his car.

"Weird guy," Mike muttered under his breath. Of course, he couldn't entirely blame Scott for being a little... off. The guy looked like he was worked to the bone by the management. Heck, he probably jumped for joy when he learned that someone else would be lightening the load a little bit. He shrugged before walking into the restaurant, un-zipping his camera bag and pulling out the camera and a small flashlight. "Right then, time to go to work," He said aloud. He glanced at his watch and smiled to himself. Six minutes left until his shift started –more than enough time to record some footage.

"Well, I'm finally in the place," Mike announced to the camera after he had turned it on. He flicked on the flashlight and shone it from one side of the room to the other. "The place is bigger on the inside, least it looks that way," he continued, walking past a cardboard cut-out of Bonnie holding a sign that listed the Pizzeria's party packages ("Freddy's Fun-tastic Parties!" the sign said). "Here we are in the main party room- the only one." Mike shone his light across the rows of tables, "I'm telling' ya. This is sad when I compare it to what I remember." He added forlornly as he dragged his light across the rows of folding tables. "But we're not here to lament. No, we're here for the main attraction." He walked forward boldly, stopping at the stage situated at the front of the room. Chica the Chicken, Bonnie the Bunny and, front and center, Freddy Fazbear standing as still as statues. Their heads bowed and arms hanging limply at their sides like they had fallen asleep standing up.

"They don't smell like rotting meat, so there goes that rumor. Then again, they probably clean these things." He clicked his tongue before climbing on stage with a grunt of effort. He balanced himself on the balls of his feet as he tried to get eye-level with Chica. "...Not seeing any mucus or signs of moisture on Chica. Her teeth, though, yeesh." He shuddered as he noticed that Chica's bill had dropped open in her "slumber", the teeth of her endoskeleton visible in the back of her throat. Mike moved onto Freddy and shone the light against his face, "nothing on Freddy either. Going to assume it's the same for Bonnie." He stepped away from the animatronics and hopped off the stage. "I'll try and bring in some more equipment tomorrow, EVP recorder, infrared camera, things like that. Not expecting much to happen tonight honestly. Fingers crossed I'll catch something." He shut off the camera and started walking back towards the security office.

Somehow, in the dark, the office felt ten times more claustrophobic. It barely had enough room for the over-sized metal desk and the small, uncomfortable office chair. Mike spent about thirty seconds trying to get comfortable while he typed in his employee information into the computer, the three small monitors on the desk flickering to life and buzzing softly with static. The system was ancient. He couldn't claim to be a master of computers, but he knew enough to know that the main computer was probably ten years too old to be in use. "Oh, right!" Mike said to himself, "message machine, message machine..." he tossed aside the wads of paper on the desk, finding what he was looking for buried underneath. He would have to make a point of cleaning up if his office was always like this when he came in. He clicked the play button and waited.

"Hello Hello?" There was a sound like Scott had uncertainly bumped the microphone a few times before he continued. "Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night."