First oneshot. If you don't like it, you don't have a soul. (Kidding, but seriously, hope you do like it, as it introduces my OC.)
A few shuffling footsteps. All that was heard. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Then stop.
It was maddening, absolutely bloody maddening to the poor waiter. He groaned, clasping his hands to his poor ears.
This pizzeria was honestly one of the worst places he had ever been. Period. Ever since he was commissioned, he had been in many restaurants of actual prestige. And then he was sold to the lowest bidder at an auction. What had happened to his life?
Something horrible, obviously.
"Wake up! Wake up!" His poor, sensitive ears. Who was screeching that? Where was he? The bed felt comfortable enough.
As his eyelids lifted, he finally realized he was here. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A revamped version of the previous one. One could only wonder what happened there, eh?
Animatronic hands darted from his side, searching the desk beside him for his glasses. For some reason, whomever designed this animatronic decided that he needed glasses, so they programmed him to have horrible vision. Whatever, he could put up with that, as he did.
"Dude, wake up, it's almost 8:00! The kids'll be here soon!"
Woe to him, it was Toy Chica, the chef. He transported her food. That allowed him some respect for the chicken, even if she was the most annoying thing in this pizzeria, besides the mice.
"C'mon, Mater! We gotta go!"
She was also the worst at pronouncing actual French, it seemed. His name was 'Maître d', not 'Mater'. It disgusted him when they mispronounced his name – all of them. Toy Freddy, Toy Bonnie, Toy Chica. Everyone but the Foxy duplicate, poor thing.
So, Maître grudgingly sat up, sliding out of the bed groggily, his tail flicking around as if it had a mind of its own. His depressed expression was met with the grin of Chica, who had her head stuck in through the door.
"Wow, you look like you got out of the wrong side of bed. I'll get you some tea for that."
Huffing, he nodded, shuffling to the closet to pull out his uniform – a tuxedo. He had kept that through every spill of fine wine or soda that had ever gone on it, and still, it was in pristine condition. Not to mention the only article of clothing (besides things like hats and ties) any of them wore. Yet another disgusting feature.
His hand made it up to his face, plucking at his moustache to make sure it was straight. Okay, good, he was fine. Another sigh, this time of relief, came out of him, giving him the energy to shuffle to the door.
And he was sitting down with the others, drinking a glass of warm tea, as Chica had promised. It was 7:56, according to the clock, and they were prepared for once. Normally he was the one holding them back, which is why Chica was assigned to wake him up nowadays.
The bell rang, and he sat up, gulping once for the day to come.
It was 8:03 now, and he had led two patrons' families to their tables, giving them menus as if this were an actual fancy restaurant.
"Mommy, why is there a monkey?" A winy child asked, obviously in regard to the waiter.
"This is how I was designed. Now, are you ready to order, or not?"
The little child considered this, while their mother flashed Maître a grateful look.
"I want pizza and french-fries." She finally said, nodding her head with a little smile.
It sickened him.
Only an hour was left in the day, and Maître was getting exhausted of it all. Pizza and french-fries, over and over and over. Only twice had someone ordered a fine steak, or even some wine. Even if the food wasn't really suited for humans (Chica didn't actually know how to cook for them, only animatronics), it was still worth having over pizza.
He was not sitting on his bed this time; no, with his acrobatic prowess, he had climbed his way to the rooftop through the vents.
The stars lit up the sky, one of the only beautiful things in this depressing world. That, and love, which he had decided never to experience in his animatronic life.
He got up to his feet, taking a step closer to the edge. Another gulp made its way down his throat, gaze drifting down to below. It was quite a ways down, which caused him to start shaking. Ah, yes, heights. He always hated those.
But it wouldn't matter, soon; soon, he wouldn't have to feel any of this. At all.
He heard a gasp behind him, emanating from the vents. The rushing of feet. Then a hand around one of his, catching him before his cruel descent.
His emerald eyes erratically began to look at everything in his general vicinity, before they finally alighted upon the one who had caught him.
Toy Chica.
"What are you doing?!" She gasped, looking honestly shocked.
"I don't wish to experience this cruel life." Maître huffed in reply, French accent depressed and spiteful.
"Not on my watch, you aren't."
He was slowly lifted up back onto the rooftop, still shaking apropos to his near demise.
"Might I inquire as to why, madam Chica?"
"B-Because…"
"Hmm?"
The female chicken lowered her gaze, and her head drooped. She sighed, before pulling him in for an embrace, and kissing the poor monkey.
Maître gasped, but eventually gave up. This felt nice, actually. He closed his green eyes and gave in.
But soon, it was over. He opened his eyes, only to see Chica on the rooftop above him, and then feel the asphalt welcome him, as his feeble endoskeleton cracked and broke.
The last thing he heard was the sobbing of Chica, and the front door sliding open, as they came to see what had happened. They would find his corpse lying on the ground, right arm ripped clean off, fine clothing torn, limbs mangled, battered, and bruised.
Soon enough, he became another empty shell in the Parts & Service room, as dead as the others.
Okay, yeah, that felt good to finish. OC introduced, dramatic ending, and weird pairing.
So, hope you liked my OC oneshot. I enjoyed making it.
No real 'thank yous' or anything, just something to fill in the wait for the last chapter of A Heart we Shouldn't Have. Here it is, there it went, and that was it.
Au revoir, téléspectateurs.
-LonlyEverman
The difference, though, with this animatronic, is he had a visitor every day, despairingly trying to fix him.