The first time he woke up, he was in a white room.

A large room, too. There were several metal shelves lining the walls, each covered in parts and machinery. The room was dotted with tables, and people in goggles and gloves were working on something on the far side of the room. The things looked humanoid, or at least looked like they would be eventually. A table near the builders was also being worked on; they were making hollow, furry things of differing shape and color.

One… suit, the word sprung to mind… one suit was off to the side, looking more or less complete. It was brown and slightly bulky. The headpiece featured a… top hat, and had two little round ears. A bear?

Bear. That was the word he seemed to be stuck on when he looked at it. He wasn't sure where from these words were coming, but they were certainly helpful.

A noise in front of him drew his attention. There were two men observing him, both wearing white labcoats. He had not noticed them because he was much, much taller, and had been looking over their heads. The shorter man had a blue shirt on. The taller man wore green, and had dark skin. Both were staring at him, as if waiting for him to do something.

The short man suddenly smiled and lifted a clipboard. "Hello!" he said brightly.

He blinked. He felt his jaw open, and then close again. He was not sure how to speak, although he knew that he could. He tried again.

"...hhh… he-he-Hello…" he finally said. He took note of the way his voice sounded. He sounded different than the man. More… distant? No, that's not right…

The short man spoke again, "Do you know who you are?"

He blinked. He searched for the knowledge, but did not find it. "No. I do not." There it was again. It was bothering him how his voice sounded. It didn't sound right.

He suddenly noticed that the two men were craning themselves back quite a bit to make eye contact with him. He lowered himself into a sort of crouch for their comfort.

The men seemed surprised at the movement. The short man furiously wrote something down. The tall man did as well, pulling a small notebook from his coat.

Then the short man looked back to him, smiling again. "Ah right. Your name is Booker. Booker the Bat."

Bat. A wooden stick used to hit small balls in mid-air. No, obviously not.

He-no, Booker-looked at himself for the first time. His arms were long and segmented at the joints. Covered in dark gray fur. His hands had four fingers and a thumb, all ending in metal claws, ending in what appeared to be vicious points, but were actually dulled and coated in a hard rubber, textured invisibly to allow grip. Starting from each wrist, a long black fabric hung from each arm and across his shoulders like some sort of cape. Or perhaps wings…

Bat. A small, flying mammal with leathery wings. Yes, that's more like it.

Hunched over as he was, the cape dragged on the floor. Even at his considerable full height, it appeared as though it would cover him to his toes. Still, it seemed like it could easily get in the way…

With a sudden thought, the wrist-to-elbow segment of his left arm opened slightly with a click, and the fabric fell. Alarmed, Booker immediately grabbed it and clipped it back into place. The taller man chuckled.

Booker looked further down and noticed his feet. He glanced up to the bear suit he'd noted previously, and saw that his feet were very different. The bear's was a simple three-toed paw. Booker's had four, and were longer, and a featured retractable, exposed-metal hooks whose purpose escaped him.

Finally, Booker took notice of the emerald vest he appeared to be wearing, assuming it wasn't built onto the suit… no, it was actually removeable, though it appeared he would need to remove the cape first to do so.

Curious as to his face, but satisfied for now, Booker looked up again. The two men were smiling, amused by his self-exploration. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Booker stood slightly taller and nodded once.

"Yes. I am Booker the Bat."

The short man nodded to himself. "Very good! And do you know what your job is?"

"I do not."

The taller man spoke up this time. "You're to be sent to an amusement park a few counties over. Place called, er," he leaned over to look at the short man's clipboard, "...FantastaWorld? Well, they can't all be winners." The man cleared his throat. "Anyway, you're to be sent there to be the main attraction of their new haunted house ride."

A young woman passing by, carrying materials towards the other machines, stopped briefly. "I've seen it, it's actually really impressive," she said, grinning.

"Back to work, Miss Carol," the short man said absently.

"Yessir." She said, and left.

Booker watched the exchange stoically.

The tall man coughed again. "Right. You're going to be running around the place, scaring and chasing any customers you come across."

Booker took a moment to consider this, then tilted his head. "What am I to do if I catch them?"

The short man paused in his writing, and the two shared a look.

"Well, you won't catch them, really," the short man said awkwardly. "You're just sort of there to give them a fright and chase them out of the house."

"Yes. But what if I am faster than they are? Or they don't run?"

The short man raised a finger, then slowly withdrew it. "Uh."

The tall man laughed suddenly, drawing attention from the workers. "Ha! What'd I tell you, Cecil? 'Oh, how hard could it be,' you said. 'Singing and dancing, stalking and roaring, it's all the same,' you said. I told you horror was a whole different animal from cartoons, but you just went with the same base program as the kiddy animatronics."

The short man-Cecil-grumbled to himself and started flipping through his papers. "Laugh it up, Saul. I know I programmed everything he needed, I have the notes in here somewhere…" He scowled suddenly and threw the clipboard on the nearest table. "Wonderful. Now we'll need to start from scratch."

Saul stooped over, catching his breath. "Nah, we don't have to do that," he said. "Those guys at the diner had to teach Fredbear and Spring Bonnie how to do their act, we'll just do the same here. After all, they aren't expecting him for another couple weeks."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"My sister's a real horror movie buff, and I think one of the interns is in film school. We'll show him a bunch of scary movies and junk and Shelley and the kid can make sure he knows what he's doing."

Cecil looked thoughtful. "Hmm. Yes, that might work. At the very least it'll be enough for him to build on when he starts working in earnest…"

As the two began discussing their plan, Booker looked on. Several of the other people in the room had stopped to watch them talk, but a few were still working. Seeing how Saul and Cecil appeared busy, Booker began moving towards the unfinished… animatronics? Was that what Saul had called them?

Currently, most of the remaining workers were focused on the red suit. Booker leaned over them, quietly. The suit looked thin and angular. The mouth had several sharp teeth. Booker checked his own, and found to his surprise that they felt rather sharp as well. The red suit's most interesting feature was a missing right hand. Booker looked towards the animatronics themselves and saw that one had a large metal hook replacing a hand.

He leaned over the worker's shoulder. "What is this?"

The man jumped straight up with a yell, banging his head into Booker's shoulder. Booker stepped back quickly, surprised.

"Gah, what was… oh." The man grimaced and rubbed his head. "I didn't know you were walking yet."

Booker glanced towards where the two men who seemed to be in charge were still talking. They appeared to not have noticed his absence yet. "Should I not be?"

The man shrugged and returned to work. "Eh, if you weren't you probably wouldn't be."

Booker nodded slowly. "What is this?"

"Hm? Oh, this here's Foxy, the pirate!" The young man grinned. "Can you believe the bosses let me design a character?"

"Really." Pirate. One who commits crimes upon the open seas. "Is that appropriate?"

"What? Well, yeah. Kids love pirates. I think he's gonna be a big hit!"

"Perhaps."

"Booker!"

Booker turned. Saul was approaching.

"Ah, you've already met Connor, I see. Connor my boy, I have a proposition for you!"

Connor frowned at being dragged from his work, but turned and answered. "Yeah?"

"How would you like to help Booker here learn how to be scary?"

Connor looked up at the bat animatronic, who looked back expectantly. He started to say no, but then took a closer look at the almost fluorescent green eyes, the mouth full of fangs, the clawed feet, and the staggering eight foot height…

Gears started turning in his head, and Connor smiled as the idea became more appealing.

"Do I get any overtime for this, Dr. Saul?"

Saul turned away and seemed to struggle with something for a moment, then turned back with a slightly forced smile.

"Naturally. How's, uh, fifty bucks per session sound?"

"A hundred."

"Eighty."

"Done."

Booker watched, uncomprehending.


Booker's first week awake flew by. He spent 72 hours watching horror movies, and learned much about what people found scary. More interestingly, though, was when the workers and interns would come into his room during their breaks to watch with him. He learned more watching them than he did watching the movies. The workers laughed as often as they screamed, which Booker had difficulty understanding at first. Fear was bad wasn't it? Why would they laugh at being scared? Connor's explanation helped greatly.

"Fear is our response to danger. Way back when we were in, I don't know, tribes or something, people heard a wolf howl in the distance and they were afraid because now they knew that there was a predator around. The fear made them alert, and so they were on guard and searching for the wolf. Nowadays, we have movies to scare us, and they're all kinds of fun because we can get the rush that comes from fear without actually being in any danger."

Booker considered this.

"So… being afraid is fun when there's nothing to be afraid of?"

"Basically."

It was from these conversations with Connor that Booker learned that the building he was in was a retrofitted warehouse, and that the company had recently changed its name to Fazbear Robotics; he never found out what the original name was. He also found out that the other robots he'd seen being constructed were prototypes, to eventually be used by Fredbear's Family Diner, in the next town over.

After Dr. Saul's supply of movies ran out, Booker began learning to scare people himself. It was here he learned why his voice had bothered him so much: the electric crackle of his speakers set his voice apart quite easily. Now that he knew what the issue was, he could quite easily solve it. Now he spoke more easily, the crackle still present but barely noticeable.

Of course, this was secondary to learning how to roar. He could produce all manner of sounds. Dr. Saul and connor had tried to get him to make some sort of low growl and a lion's roar, but Booker found it felt wrong. He was a bat, after all. Bats did not growl. He eventually settled on a piercing screech that he quite liked, based on the sound he'd heard when he accidentally scraped his claws on a chalkboard. The workers, and Dr. Cecil especially, had called the noise "horrible." Booker had decided that meant he was on the right track.

The highlight of the week had come when he'd walked in on the new bots' first activation.


Booker was only five days old at this point, and already he'd begun to relish his free time. Connor had asked him to visit the workshop when he was free. Booker supposed he wanted an opinion on his work. It was the least he could do, given how hard Connor was working to help him.

He entered the room and was instantly greeted by the sight of the unfinished bot from before, now in their suit and awake. They were staring straight back at him.

Booker's personality had already begun developing into what the girl Carol called, "overdramatic." When Booker saw the new animatronics up and about, he grinned as wide as he could and made a grand, sweeping gesture, rapidly closing the gap between them.

"Greetings, my friends! How are you enjoying the waking world?" He punctuated his greeting by throwing an arm around the bunny and holding his other arm out.

"Uh… uh…" the bunny seemed overwhelmed.

Connor shook his head, smiling. "Easy there, Bats. They've only been up a few minutes."

"Oh, sorry friend! How rude of me. I am Booker the Bat," he said, falling into a deep mock bow. "And you are?"

The bear, who seemed rather calm compared to the others, tipped his hat. He seemed to get the joke. "Freddy Fazbear. A pleasure."

The yellow thing smiled. "Chica the Chicken."

The bunny still looked shaken, but, in a move that visibly puzzled the nearby technicians, it gulped and muttered something even Booker's ears couldn't make out.

Chica walked over and patted the bunny's back. It smiled gratefully. "Uh, Bonnie. That's my name."

Booker decided he'd gone slightly too far, and smiled kindly. "Charmed."

The final one, the red fox Connor had made, smirked. "And I'm Foxy the, er, Pirate!"

Booker caught the hesitation and gave Foxy a look. After a moment, he said, "Foxy… do you know what a pirate is?"

The fox looked indignant. "Of course I do! It's what I am, with the pointy ears and red fur, just like Bonnie's a bunny!"

Booker attempted to cover his smile. Several of the technicians were holding back laughs as well.

"Oh, friends… I have so much to tell you…"

Connor scoffed. "Come off it, you're not even a week older than they are, what do you know they can't figure out?"

"Well, like you said the other day: the best way to learn is to teach."

And so the rest of the day was spent with the five robots talking about anything that came to mind.

The two weeks left at Fazbear Robotics were spent practising with Connor, visiting the other animatronics, and raiding Dr. Cecil and Saul's offices for whatever books he could get his claws on; Booker had discovered an insatiable desire to learn, and the time passed far too quickly for Booker's taste.

Everyone had gathered behind the lab to see him off; the doctors, Connor, several of the staff, and the other animatronics.

Currently, Booker was staring at the crate he was to be carried in. He gave Dr. Cecil a look.

"How, precisely, am I expected to fit in this?" The crate only came up to slightly above his knees.

Cecil shrugged. "Curl up in a ball, I suppose. Or in pieces."

"Why can I not simply ride in the cabin?"

Saul gestured to the two men who were standing by, waiting for the cargo to be loaded. They were watching with the glazed look of one who has seen far too much to be bothered by something as simple as sentient machines.

"There's only enough room for these two. Frankly I'm not sure you'd fit up there even just by yourself."

Booker sighed. "I suppose that's fair." He turned to Freddy. "Good luck with everything, you lot. I wish I could be there to see your show."

Freddy took his hand and shook it. "Likewise, Booker. It's been a pleasure." The others all voiced something similar.

As the staff began escorting the machines back inside, Connor came up. "You know they're still prototypes, right? They might well have to be reset between now and when they get deployed. They almost certainly won't remember you…" He rubbed his arm awkwardly.

Booker nodded. "It occurred to me, yes. In the end it doesn't matter if they remember me, so long as I remember them."

Connor gave a lopsided grin. "Did someone slip you some of Dr. Saul's philosophy books?"

"Maybe." The two chuckled, while Saul grumbled in the background.

"You'll visit, won't you?" Booker asked, suddenly looking worried.

"Sure I will. After all, someone's gotta make sure you're kept in shape."

The bat animatronic smiled. "Until next time, then." He grabbed as much of his cape in his arms as he could and squirmed his way into the box. The crate was sealed up after him and loaded up.

As the truck started and took off, Booker felt himself drifting into standby, and quickly fell asleep.


Well, I say. It's been a while since I did any real writing. Hope I've not gotten too... rusty...

Oh yes, also: I do not own FNaF. There, that's the one disclaimer. I'm not going to say it again.

Questions, comments, concerns?