In Loco Parentis 3
In Loco Parentis: A Five Nights at Freddy's Fanfic
Dave reclined in his seat, rubbing his head. Children's shrieking, mingled with the auto-tuned songs of the animatronics, felt like a jack hammer against his skull. The stupid animatronics (what were their names?) shifted back and forth, their jaws creaking open and close. Gears practically screamed against each other beneath the suits.
He scanned the dining room for Henry. The boy's red hair bounce up and down by the stage at the front of the room. Children crowded around-all of them jumping and dancing to the horrible music. Dave's nose wrinkled as he caught the scent of greasy pizza. He glanced down. His own piece of peperoni lay glistening with grease, untouched except for a bite. It tasted like garlic-flavored cardboard. Dave pushed the plastic plate away, but the stench clung to his nostrils. To think…this place actually used to be cool. Well…when he had been a kid, anyway.
The animatronics—a bear with a top hat, a duck with a bib, and a purple rabbit with a guitar—reached the climax of their song and walked off the stage. The crowd of children surrounded the trio. The animatronics bowed their heads, as though looking down at the kids, as their jaws flapped. Dave glanced down at his watch. Three thirty-four. Henry had been here long enough—almost two hours.
"Henry!" Dave called, but his voice disappeared among the cacophony. He grunted, his headache a crown of pain. Dave rose from his seat. Keep your cool, he told himself. Don't get mad again. It's just a headache. He's just seven. Dave pushed through the servers darting between the rows of tables—soles of his sneakers sticking to the black and white tile-and then waded through the crowd of children.
"Henry!" He called again. The boy turned, a smile on his chubby cheeks. Freckles dotted his face. "Time to go."
The grin vanished from the Henry's face.
"Just five more minutes, Daddy!" He said, his pouting voice barely audible.
"No," Dave said. The pain in his head grew. "Now!"
"Freddy is here. I don't wanna!" The boy said, turning to walk further into the crowd. Dave grabbed Henry's forearm before he could even take a step.
"We are going NOW!" Dave said. He dragged the little boy out of the mosh pit of preschoolers. Henry cried and tugged backward. Dave grimaced. He turned toward the corridor to the restrooms. The only way to shut the boy up was to give his ass a good—
The hairs on the back of Dave's neck rose. He turned back. No one paid him or Henry any attention—the children jumped around the robots, adults sat at the tables watching their kids, and the waitress, Amy, counted her tips in the corner.
The animatronics didn't move. Their jaws remained shut, despite another song beginning. All three of their gazes rested on Dave. Light reflected off their glass eyes, giving the illusion that they had pupils…Dave shivered. Stupid robots, he thought. Must be malfunctioning—he wouldn't be surprised. They must be as old as he was.
He walked toward the corridor, Henry struggling.
"No! Don't make me!" Henry screamed. The sound bore into Dave's head, making him wince. His grip tightened.
"Shut up!"
Dave yanked the boy into the corridor. Henry skid to a stop, eyes red and tears streaking down his cheeks. Dave grabbed Henry by the collar, and brought the boy over his knee. He raised his hand—but stopped. That bear—Freddy—stood in the doorway. The animatronic's body filled the threshold, its head cocked.
But those eyes—they're just cameras, Dave told himself. Still, he couldn't stop staring at those silver lens. Freddy's hand twitched.
"Freddy," Henry cried, reaching out to the animatronic. Dave brought his open hand down on the boy's bottom.
The cry that filled the dining room wasn't a child's. The waitress the tips she had been counting. Chairs skid back as parents rose from their chairs. Bonny and Chicka remained motionless, their heads turned toward the restrooms. Amy ran toward the corridor. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of copper.
Red splattered across the walls of the corridor. Dave slumped against a corner, his breathe ragged. Half of his face lay in strips on the floor beside him. A chunk of his cheek was gone, revealing white jawbone. An arm hung limp at his side, while the other bent in an odd angle. Henry sat, staring at his father. He didn't cry, but just sat there—knees to his chest—shaking.
Freddy stood over Henry.
Specks of blood matted his fur, and dripped from the end of its fingers. It bowed its head and stared at the boy.