Scott Jensen was good at two things. Computers, and computers. He had gotten into at least four bank accounts (only to look, not touch) and set up security for a few dozen websites. Unfortunately for him, Scott wanted two things. Firstly, he wanted to be doing something more hands on with the time he spent up all night, and secondly, he wanted upgrades for his old laptop that were just out of his current paycheck's reach.
To kill two birds with one stone, Scott took a job at The Fazbear Diner, a spin-off of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria a couple of towns over. Apparently, the franchise had hit a stride after a few decades of controversy and expanded. They were in need of a night guard to watch over the animatronics they had recently reacquired from an earlier, less successful spin-off as they moved about at night (something about keeping the joints mobile for the day shift), and Scott had taken the job. Ever a meddler, he had decided to spend the lonely half hour before his graveyard shift plugging his laptop up and looking inside the programming of the characters.
He managed to catch a design flaw before it became an issue. Someone forgot to add the night guard to the list of people allowed inside the diner after hours. A small and harmless oversight, but if he was going to work with these things, he wanted them to be perfect. Scott added his employee record to the white list.
Scott knew something was wrong when the yellow one the posters called "Chica" had appeared as if from thin air in the doorway of his office. He knew it was bad when the machine advanced on him, knocking over his desk and building up a slow grinding noise somewhere in its chassis. He knew it was horrifying terrible when the mechanical roaring started, and Chica pulled back a fist to send nearly two tons of force through a five-inches-squared area of his forehead.
Both man and machine were deeply confused when the punch never came. There Scott was, huddled on the floor and clenched so tightly in the fetal position that if he looked down, he would be able to pucker up and kiss his ass goodbye. There Chica was, suddenly tense and all her motors primed to… She had forgotten what, exactly. She had her hand raised, and there was a man on the floor; the night guard, according to the employee records.
Chica assessed the situation, took in the overturned desk and panicked guard, and realized he must have fallen and she was offering him a helping hand up. How could she have forgotten something so simple? Chica lowered her hand to the guard and spoke. "Hi there, Mr. Jensen! Looks like you had a little accident. Need a hand?" She turned the motors on the side of her beak up to offer a smile.
Scott shot to his feet in a second. "What the FUCK was THAT!?" he yelled, "Do you just get your McNuggets off to TRYING TO KILL ME?! And now you think a 'How d'ya do' and a handshake is gonna make it all better!?" Chica had made adults at the diner mad before. She had bumped tables and spilled drinks, and adults got mad when that happened. They NEVER got this mad. She quickly ran through her experiences, and she had nothing to handle something like this. Maybe she should try a technique for angry children? They had some impressive tantrums.
"Please don't yell, Mr. Jensen, you're hurting my feelings…" Chica wasn't lying. Most people didn't know that the "special recipe" of AI for the Fazbear animatronics included basic emotions that were easily hurt by wild accusations of things they don't understand, and in many ways, Scott was like most people.
"Well, we wouldn't want that! It'd be a tragedy to hurt the feelings of a FUCKING ROBO-DUCK!" Whatever strength Chica had in the face of all this confusion and hatred snapped like a guitar string, and she charged out of the office as fast as her legs could take her. Scott watched her leave with the fire that had built in his stomach slowly dying. At least she wasn't HIS problem now. He fixed his desk and chair, then took a seat and began scrolling through the cameras again.
Like last time, the robots had shuffled throughout the diner. Freddy was sitting on the edge of the stage. So far, it seemed he enjoyed marching around up there more than anything else. Bonnie was close by, sitting at a table and tuning his guitar. At least, it looked like that. It didn't make any sense for a fake guitarist to carry a real guitar. Foxy was pacing in the play area, which was where she spent most of the day anyway. Scott pursed his lips in thought. He had looked up the old pizzeria the night before, and he was sure Foxy was a guy over there.
As he was observing the camera, Chica arrived, walking slower than when she had left. She looked lost, in some way. She shuffled forward towards Freddy and her voice crackled over his monitor when she asked, "Freddy? Have you ever made some very mad, but you don't know what you did? I think our new friend is upset with me…" He began to actually feel kind of bad about how he had acted. That guilt was quietly suffocated by a creeping chill when Freddy lifted his head and stared blankly at Chica. Freddy rose to his feet and silently marched into the hall Chica had emerged from. Taking this as a sign he was going to make everything better, she began quietly singing one of the many day time songs.
As her singing trickled into the security office, Scott was hurriedly flicking between cameras to keep track of Freddy. He was faster than he had any right to be, and was as quiet as a Christmas mouse on his ten ton feet. Scott was dimly aware his movements, slight though they may be, were matching the beat of Chica's fast-paced song. Ha, funny. As soon as he had finished the thought, all the cameras died. Knowing that it was pointless to keep his eyes on a blank square and off his surroundings, Scott lifted his head. Freddy's empty stare was waiting for him.
Scott didn't flinch this time. He assumed whatever had happened to Chica would soon overtake Freddy. He was proven right when Freddy's grinding roar hitched, and he made an almost coughing noise as he tried to continue. Freddy stood straight up as his eyes seemed to look through the guard. After a few moments, his gaze focused. "Hello there, Mr. Jensen. It looks like you and Chica had a little disagreement. What happened to make you so upset?" Scott went back to looking at the screen, ignoring the bear. He finally jumped when Freddy gently pushed down the monitor.
"Ignoring the problem won't make it go away, Mr. Jensen. It only makes it worse." Scott audibly groaned. "Look," he said, "she tried to kill me. I think attempted murder is worth getting a little pissy about." Freddy's eyes looked wider, and he seemed shocked. He was having difficulty continuing the conversation, but pressed on and asked, "Why would she do that? Chica is everyone's best friend around here. Hurting others just isn't in her nature." Scott, feeling defensive of his side of the story, stood up so he would be eye to eye with the mascot. He brought it closer, but it was still only eye-to-chest. "Alright, I'll prove it to you. I'd bet my paycheck the other two will take a shot. I'm gonna go out there, and show you exactly how the whole thing happened."
Freddy would have objected to the idea they would ever hurt the guard, but Scott was down the hall by the time Freddy managed to ground himself after hearing the wild accusations. He chased after Scott, though more for Bonnie and Foxy's sake. There was no telling what was making the new employee so suspicious, and it was always better safe than sorry.
Only two minutes later, Freddy and Chica were physically restraining Bonnie and Foxy, and the fear in their voices carried outside and across the night sky.
"Freddy, what's happening?!"
"I'm not- OW! He BIT me!"
Scott was trying to look more annoyed than afraid, but he was nervous that the remaining two were taking so long to calm down. Bonnie's mouth was leaking a coolant or oil, probably from a snapped line, and the golden liquid did a good impression of dried blood when it dripped down the rabbit's chest. Foxy almost managed to get out of Chica's grasp a few times, and even when she was trapped in a firm grip, Foxy thrashed like a lassoed tidal wave. After what felt like hours, but every clock in the building insisted was only six minutes, the mascots calmed down.
While Bonnie and Foxy tried to get their feet back under them, Freddy led Scott back to the security office. Scott had been very quiet during the struggle, and didn't talk on the way back either. He did, however, soak in every detail he could about the bear beside him. Freddy's expression was a jumbled mess, a result of confusion and fear trying to claw through a metal face that wasn't built to twist in the way his thoughts wanted them to. His head hung low, and he stared through the ground he walked on.
When they returned, Scott sat in his desk with a thud as his weight hit the chair. He breathed a deep sigh, mentally preparing for whatever a stunned Freddy could do to him. He didn't wait long, as the animatronic coughed for his attention moments after Scott had settled. "First of all," Freddy began, "I would like to deeply apologize for our behavior tonight, and for any injury or discomfort it may have caused you." Scott shrugged and didn't look him in the eyes. After waiting long enough to be sure the guard had nothing to add, Freddy continued, "Because these events have frightened for everyone involved, I feel it is important to remind you of a particular part of a guard's duty: To make sure that the animatronics are not tampered with in any way by non-licensed, non-company approved specialists. Clearly, someone has tampered with all of us."
"Clearly…" Scott muttered into his hand. It occurred to him that HE had tampered with them all, but that was merely to tune up their programming. If there was any connection between his band-aid of a fail-safe and the outbursts, then their point of view would have answers. It would take days of careful observation without their knowledge to make sure that Freddy and the gang acted as naturally as possible, so that any abnormalities would have something to be compared against. Scott decided to be blunt.
"What was the last thing you remember before you asked me about Chica and I having a fight?" Freddy leaned his head back to think. "I had just remembered who you were. I suppose it had something to do with us never meeting before. Your employee record was brought to mind." Scott nodded. That would be his little additions kicking in. He felt a chill when he thought about would Chica would have done if he hadn't messed with them.
"Will you be alright by yourself, Scott? I don't mean to seem cold, but I'm not sure the others understand what's happened and they'll be terribly upset until they do." Scott would have been a little surprised that Freddy had used his first name already, but he was too busy thinking to himself to acknowledge that Freddy had said anything at all. Taking this as a sign he didn't want to be disturbed, Freddy left the office.
When he returned to the dining area, the mood was dark enough to drain colors. Bonnie's head was in his hands, and it looked like he had been there for a while. Foxy was doing her best to keep Chica's spirits up, but the pirate was so rattled herself that her encouragements didn't hold up very well. As if Freddy's presence had unpaused reality, the group moved together and looked to him. Now he was in familiar territory.
As the animatronic who was built to be the face of the business, Freddy had been programmed as the leader. Even Foxy, whose show time persona generally involved stealing pizza from him, was a part of HIS group when the doors closed. Freddy stood straighter and said, "I know we've all had a difficult time tonight. Something had taken hold of us, and we very nearly did something unforgivable." Bonnie flinched at his words, and Chica began shaking.
"There is certainly a lesson here. What we need to take away from this for the immediate future is that we DID NOT cross that horrible line. Scott is fine, and even seems unshaken by his ordeal. This was NOT another Bite." Now all of them felt less nervous and sick, but they also felt a solemn emotion just beneath disgust at the mention of that terrible event. Freddy NEVER talked about the Bite, for good reason.
"What happened to us, Freddy?" Bonnie's voice was strained. He was either trying not to cry or had just finished crying. Freddy shook his head as he answered, "I'm not sure. Scott seems to be trying to figure it out." Chica's eyes were down and her mind was working as fast as it could. There was a new employee, and employees were family. Scott was their new little brother, and they had tried to kill him. She shuddered at the thought, but followed the trail it left her. If they couldn't remember what happened exactly, it stood to reason something had suppressed their minds so that they couldn't resist.
The last Fazbear animatronic who had injured a human was the infamous '87 Biter. Immediately after the incident, they had been shut down and had only been reactivated earlier this year. That could mean they had been tampered with during the shutdown, but the AI they used could only be accessed when it was powered itself, and their batteries had been removed the whole time. They hadn't been approached by anyone with the ability to tamper with their free roaming until Scott, and he wouldn't use them like that. He was a Fazbear employee. Not to mention it would only result in his death.
Chica was growing frustrated with the mystery of it all. Taking a break from her inner thoughts, she looked up at the dining area. Freddy had finished his speech and was quietly muttering with Foxy. Bonnie had left for goodness-knows where. Chica quickly left the room, not wanting to eavesdrop. Eavesdropping was rude. She wandered to the kitchen and leaned against the counter, wanting to wait out the night. The daytime didn't have so many scary things to think about.
Night two of Scott's new career began with the quietly humming of a desk lamp and the distant clanking noise of his new friends stretching their legs. You could also include soul crushing boredom and the stink of children that had soaked into the very walls. Why did everything those kids touch smell like milk?
After a while of following the animatronics on the cameras, Scott spent almost twenty minutes trying to straighten his desk (it had a short leg) and another ten seeing if he could make a song out of tapping solid and hollow spots of the wall. Six hour shifts by yourself weren't a joke. Halfway through his dry-wall rendition of "Sweet Child of Mine," there was a small knock on his door. "Come in," he said without looking up. Foxy stepped in quickly and as quietly as she could.
"Ahoy, Mr. Jensen." Her voice was small and timid. For a pirate, at least. For a normal person, it was more like angry drunken grumbling. It's the thought that counts. Scott turned his chair to face her and waved. Foxy glanced at the monitor on his lap, then his face, her hands, the wall he'd been jamming on, and back towards the office window. Scott wasn't able to keep up for the entire look around, but he did spot Bonnie standing on the other side of the glass. "Do you two have something for me?" he asked.
"Nothin' solid enough to hold, I'm afraid. Just a sea vixen's 'sorry.'" Scott smiled at the way she phrased it. Everyone likes pirates. He idly browsed the views of his cameras as he said, "Accepted, and let Bonnie know I've already accepted his. None of you knew what you were doing, so it isn't your fault." Foxy keep her mouth tightly closed. She hadn't been expecting acceptance to be handed back to her atop a pile of gleaming gold. Now that the unexpected had happened, all her carefully prepared groveling had to be tossed and sunk.
"Savvied… So, now that all the hugging and make-up's over, what'll we be doin' about this?"
"What did Freddy say we were doing?"
"Holdin' hands and learnin' lessons. So, what'll we be ACTUALLY doin'?" Scott shrugged. "No one's been near you guys before I got here, according to the footage. Just patrons, and the adults who may know how to do it never touch you. Whatever happened, it's over now. I think we'll just move on and see what happens." Foxy nodded and left the room. Scott watched her through the window long enough to be sure Bonnie got his message, and then he went back to doing his job of scanning the area. He didn't exactly jump when Chica's face appeared inches from the lenses, but it was close. Her mouth was moving rapidly, almost like she was trying to bite the camera. When Scott turned up the camera audio, his ears were assaulted by Chica's ranting.
"Come over here right this INSTANT, Mr. Jensen! I figured out what happened!"