So I fell victim to the FNaF virus. But do you blame me? I admit, I'm not in it for the gameplay; I'm in it for it's stories and secrets. Those two are like my bread and butter. But I digress. I was originally going to upload the entire story all at once. But with Five Nights at Freddy's 4 in development, I decided to wait until we know for sure THIS is going to be the last installment in the series. Until then, this is just a teaser look of what the story is going to be like. Enjoy!

Standing close to the hospital doors was a young man. He was probably twenty years old, and his clothes were quite average: t-shirt, hoodie, jeans, and worn sneakers. Through the glass, he could see parked cars, mowed grass, and busy streets. He just stood there with a blank expression. Although he wasn't showing it, he was quite terrified. Sure, it was a bright warm sunny evening in late spring, but he feared going out there. What was waiting for him outside those hospital doors? He didn't know. He honestly didn't know.

The earliest memory he had was waking up in this place. And that was only two weeks ago. Apparently he was found on the street unconscious with a very bad head injury. Sadly, he couldn't remember what happened to him, he didn't have any identification when they found him, and no one had any idea who he was. After that fiasco, he was moved to the amnesia ward, where the doctors and nurses there began calling him "John Doe". He wasn't a big fan of the name at first but decided to go with it.

Although he didn't have a cell phone or a wallet, John did have a few other things in his pockets. The first thing he felt was a lighter. Why he was carrying a lighter with him, he had no idea. It later occurred to John that he might have been a smoker, but it seemed odd that he didn't have a packet of cigarettes with him. He probably did, but it wouldn't surprise him if the doctors threw them out. He also felt a small notepad with a pen, which had stuff written down for him to remember.

In his other pocket, John felt a dollar bill and some quarters and nickels. He couldn't remember how much he had, so he pulled out his money and counted. Turned out John had only eleven dollars and five cents. That certainly wasn't going to get him far. He was going to have to find a job, and defiantly an apartment now that he thought about it.

Now if only he had the courage to walk out those doors.

As he continued staring outside, John saw an individual out in the parking lot, making their way toward the main entrance. He looked around the same age as John, maybe a year or two older than him. His hair was braided into shoulder-long dreadlocks, and his attire included a green muscle shirt, ripped denim jeans that sagged, and yellow flip-flops. John watched as the person walked through the doors and up to him, grinning in a friendly manner.

"Dude!" the young man exclaimed. "John, my man! How's it hanging?" He held his hand up in the air, while John could only stare back at him. "Come on, Dude! Don't leave me hanging!" John finally spoke up.

"Do I know you?" he asked. The stranger began lowering his arm and raising his eyebrows.

"You don't remember me?" John shook his head, taking a step or two back from the man. The stranger began scratching his head as he was thinking about something. Then, an idea struck. He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pair of blue reflective sunglasses. "Maybe this will jog your memory," said the individual, as he placed the glasses on his face.

All of sudden, John wasn't seeing the face of a stranger. This was a face of someone he knew. Someone he met before. He just couldn't remember who or where. Just the look of realization on John's face was enough to please the man.

"I'm P.D," the man introduced, "the guy who found you. I'm been visiting you for the past few weeks now." It all came back to John now. All those times P.D. came to see how he was doing and if he was able to remember anything. Even though John was mostly tired during those visits, and he didn't really talk, he still appreciated them. After all, P.D. was his only visitor.

"P.D!" he exclaimed, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry I –" P.D. raised his hands up, silencing John.

"It's alright, man," he said. "It was mostly my fault. I forgot you had that face blindness thing." Oh yeah. John remembered the doctor telling him something like that. Apparently, his head injury gave him apperceptive prosopagnosia. Simply, he was unable to recognize people by their faces. Instead, he used non-facial features to remember them. Since P.D. wore those sunglasses every time he visited, that was how John recognized him.

"So," P.D. said, changing the topic. "What are you doing out of the amnesia ward?"

"They released me today." John was sure there was more to it than that, but his memory failed him. A wide grin grew on P.D.'s face.

"Get out of town! Just now?" John all of a sudden grew a bit sheepish.

"Actually, I think it was thirty minutes ago…" P.D. looked at him confused.

"Thirty minutes ago?" he said in disbelief. "Why haven't you left yet, man?" John didn't say anything, embarrassed over the thought of telling P.D. that he was scared of going outside. Fortunately for his manhood, P.D. didn't wait to hear his answer. "Never mind. I won't bother you with it. Say! How about I take you to Dairy Queen. You're gonna love the Blizzard of the Month." As P.D. walked out onto the parking lot, John Doe stepped outside, close behind the only friend he could remember.

Well, John knew one thing about himself. He loved Dairy Queen Blizzards. Especially the Blizzard of the Month. He and P.D. were eating in the exterior seating, as the interior was a bit too disgusting for John's liking. Outside wasn't as pleasant, but it was at least tolerable. The sunset was helping slightly. From just looking around, he could tell he was in the rundown part of town. Or did the whole town look like this? Curse his horrid memory.

"So," P.D. spoke up. "Did you find out anything about yourself while you were at the hospital?"

"No," John answered, as he scooped up another portion of Blizzard. "The doctors were unable to find out anything about me. It's almost like I never existed."

"No no! Not identity stuff! I mean, do you like this? Do you dislike that? Did you find that one nurse attractive? You know, man! Stuff like that!" Oh. John never thought about that. Mostly because whenever he did, he would forget later.

"I like this Blizzard," John said, hoping it might please P.D. His friend chuckled a bit.

"Well that's not all that surprising. You ate halfway through that less than five minutes, dude!" He did? That kind of explained a lot really. Hm. What else? John tried thinking back to his stay at the hospital.

"…I don't like hospital food?" Yeah! Now that he really thought about it, he wasn't all a big fan of the food they were giving him.

"I enjoyed your visits, flowers make me very happy for some reason, that old nurse lady made me nervous,…" Oh he was on a roll! Images flashed in his mind as he began to remember little things about himself. He saw P.D. sitting near a hospital bed, the garden in the hospital courtyard, and that creepy old nurse sitting at the nurse station. But just like that, the memories came to a halt. He found he couldn't remember why that old nurse made him feel uncomfortable, or what color those flowers were. In fact, he couldn't even remember when or why he was in the hospital courtyard in the first place.

"Anything else?" P.D. asked, after what felt like a timeless eternity. As John tried to think of something else, he stuck his hands in his pockets. He then touched something he didn't recognize. Curious, he pulled it out and held it up to see it. It was a lighter with a metal casing. P.D. raised an eyebrow.

"Where'd you get that?" John wasn't sure at first, but then he remembered.

"Oh yeah. I was probably a smoker." As he began to play with the lighter's lid, P.D. gave a stern look.

"You don't have any cigs on you, do you man?" John looked up to see his friend.

"Why would a hospital give me cigarettes?" John asked. "Besides, I'm not interested in smoking. I just don't have that urge to light a cigarette." P.D. showed some signs of relief.

"Whew. That's good, man. But just in case…" P.D. pulled out a small metal box from his pockets. He tossed it in the air and John caught it. On the lid, it said "The Original Celebrated ALTIODS®; CURIOUSLY STRONG MINTS; CINNAMON".

"Keep them," P.D. said. "Trust me, you're gonna need them later on." John wasn't quite sure how mints were going to help him, but he nevertheless stuck them into his pocket along with the lighter. An idea then popped into his friend's head.

"Say! You're probably in need of a job, right?" John nodded his head.

"Well, how about I take you to where I work! We're in need of employees, so I might be able to get you a position there. What do you say, man?" John took a bite of his Blizzard before answering.

"Sure. I'll try it out. Just to see what it's like." A wide grin grew on P.D's face.

"Sweet! You're gonna love it there, man!"

John wasn't quite sure where in the world he was. He was on a street lined with weird buildings and strangers that made him feel uncomfortable. The only sources of light seemed to only come from the neon signs, and there was noise everywhere. The buildings themselves were either gift shops, tattoo parlors, wax museums, or restaurants. But it seemed the most popular place to go to were haunted houses, as there was one every three buildings he passed by.

"Um, dude? I'm turning purple here." Embarrassed, John let go of P.D's arm. So what if he was a wimp? At least that was another part about himself. Although, he would like to be a bit braver. Oh well. The two eventually stopped at what looked like a very rundown restaurant. It appeared grey and lifeless, with a black and white checker pattern trim, and a green neon sign that read "FAZBEAR'S FRIGHT"; though the "A" in "FAZBEAR'S" and the "I" and "H" in "FRIGHT" were flickering, so it looked more like "FAZBER'S FRIGT".

John had a strong feeling this wasn't a restaurant.

"Here it is!" P.D. said, spreading his arms out. "Isn't she a beauty?" John just stared for a moment.

"Why are we here?" P.D. gave John a look that clearly read "Are you freaking serious?!" Fortunately for John, P.D. was the patient type.

"This is where I work," he explained, "and I'm gonna find a job for you here." What?! A Job?! Here?! This place already felt like it was haunted. He didn't want to work here! But where else could he look for a business that had job openings? If he turned down now, he might be unemployed for a while. Sighing, John followed P.D. inside.

John felt like he was walking through a pizzeria that hadn't opened in a long time. The checkered tile floors were covered in a layer of dirt. The walls were oozing a black substance he did not recognize. There were posters of bears, rabbits, and possibly ducks along with old children drawings of these same animals hanging on the walls. Arcade machines made the already narrow hallways feel claustrophobic. Screens from the arcade machines flickered like a strobe light. Wires hung from the ceiling. And to top it all off, the old lighting gave the place an eerie green color.

But what disturbed John the most were those three robotic heads. They resembled the animals in the posters and were scattered across the attraction, with bright lights glowing out of the eye sockets. What made them creepy was that he didn't see any lightbulbs or LED lights inside the heads, and it felt like they were watching him. But that wasn't the worst part about them.

He could hear voices.

Small, distorted, children's voices. They were no more than whispers, but they still scared John. Every time he walked past a head, the little voice had something to say:

"ThEy lEfT mE bEhInD."

"ThEy aLwAyS fIgHt."

"mY mOm iS nO mOrE."

John didn't say anything about it though, as P.D. didn't seem to hear them. He was probably just imagining things.

They had finally reached what appeared to be an office. It had no door and it had a large window taking up most of the wall. Next to the doorway was a cardboard box filled with non-glowing robot heads, a few robot arms, a fake electric guitar, and a paper plate person. Near the other end of the office was a metallic desk with a wastebasket nearby. On top of the desk were three animal figurines, a soda cup from possibly a fast-food restaurant, and what was probably a half-eaten hotdog no one finished nor ever will. There was hardly any light in there, leaving most of the office in darkness.

P.D. walked in and sat in an office chair, taking the only seat available in the small room. He grabbed something on the darkened wall and revealed some sort of tablet, which was bolted to the wall via hinge. P.D. glanced at it for a minute or two before setting it aside and picking up another tablet. This one was also bolted to a hinge, but on a separate wall. After a moment or so, he turned to look at John and gave a sheepish smile.

"Eh, you're gonna have to sit on the desk there. I didn't think about getting an extra chair. My bad." John didn't mind though. He never sat on a desk before. At least, he didn't remember sitting on one. Quietly, he entered the office and seated himself on top of the desk. He laid his hands on his knees, and his feet slightly swung.

"Sooo…this is where you work?" John asked, trying to strike up conversation. P.D. gave an impressed look, as John had managed to remember why they were even here.

"That's right, dude!" John gave a small grin in response. But then another question came up.

"W-what exactly do you do here?" P.D. glanced at the tablet on his right before answering.

"Actually, I'm kinda the manager of this place. But I'm also the unofficial night guard because we're low on staff. Which that reminds me. I brought you here to get you a job, didn't I?" He did? Oh yeah, he did! How could he forget that? "There's a green folder in the desk drawer. Can you get it, dude?" John was a bit unsure at first, but did so anyways, wanting to help a friend out. He opened the drawer, found a green folder, and handed it to P.D., who thanked him. P.D. pulled out some sheets of paper that had some text written on it. John gave him his pen, which was returned with a "Thanks."

"Alright, first off, your name. I'm just gonna write down 'John Doe' for now. It that alright, dude?" John nodded his head. "Great! Um, birthdate…how old are you?"

"Twenty…maybe."

"Okay, I'll just put in 2002. Street Address…" there was a moment of silence. "…Say. How would you like to stay at my place. You know, until you can find a place of your own. I can sleep on the couch, finally clean out the fridge,-"

"Sure. I appreciate it." A smile grew on P.D.'s face.

"Sweet! That takes care of Unit number, City, State, ZIP, and Phone! E-mail Address, we'll take care of that later. Alrighty! The date today is June 12, 2022, you don't have a Social Security Number, and how much would you like to be paid?"

"I don't care. Just as long as I'm getting paid."

"How about we start you off with minimum wage. That would be…thirteen twenty-five an hour…four hundred and seventy-seven dollars. What position would you like to apply for?" This caught John slightly off guard. He didn't really think about that.

"What jobs do you have available?" John asked.

"Well, there's the night guard…janitor…repairman…" So far, only the night guard sounded interesting.

"I guess I'll apply for the night guard position."

"Great! Alright, 'Are you a citizen of the United States? Yes or No?'" John gave a blank stare. How in the world was he going to answer that? He couldn't even remember what he was doing five minutes ago! P.D. noticed this little problem as well and said, "Ehhh, let's just skip that question for now. Ahem! 'Have you ever worked for this company?' No. 'Have you ever been convicted of a felony?'"

"A what?"

"How about we skip this one as well. And high school…and collage…oh boy. Um…gonna have to skip all of References...Previous Employment…and Military Service. I guess all that is left is the disclaimer and signature!" Well that was sort of a relief.

"What does the disclaimer say?" John was rather curious. P.D. read the disclaimer out loud in a bored tone of voice.

"It says, 'I certify that my answers are true and complete to the best of my knowledge. If this application leads to employment, I understand that false or misleading information in my application or interview may result in my release.' It's just legal stuff. Nothing to worry about. All you have to do is sign right there." P.D. pointed to the spot on the application where he was supposed to sign. John, with his pen at hand, wrote down his "name" in the best writing he could muster. To top it all off, he wrote "6/12/22" in the Date box next to his signature. He handed the application to P.D.

"Sweet, man! I'll talk it over with a friend of mine to see if you'll get the job." John actually smiled with excitement.

"Five Nights at Freddy's" belongs to Scott Cawthon