Hey. Well, if you're reading this you've made it to the first chapter of my Fan Fiction of Five Nights at Freddy's. Please leave a review when you finish because all support is appreciated. Just please no severe hating please. This is my first Fan Fiction.

My name is LowePlays and I'm planning on doing this every Friday afternoon, since that's when I don't have school or any after school activities. Updating the story, I mean.


The Night of the Living Animatronics

Chapter 1

Down in a little apartment in the outskirts of Portland was a young man by the name of Mike Schmidt sat at his desk, doing some late night reading. The clock read 20:47 and Mike yawned. He was almost finished reading the last page of the paper when the last job listing caught his eye. It was a Help Wanted ad for a Pizzeria by the name of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. It was to be a night guard from midnight to 6. And it payed $120 a week. It was four bucks or so an hour but it was better than his pay right now. After all, 120 is better than 0, right?
He yawned again and said to himself, "I'll call this pizza place tomorrow and ask for an interview. But, *yawn* I have to get to sleep." He slowly climbed to his feet and let the blood flow from his head, leaving his vision black for a few moments. He changed into his night clothes and slipped under his blankets on his bed. When he slept, he had some of the last good dreams he'll ever have.

A buzzing in Mike's mind disturbed him from his dream of a unicorn and lazers. His alarm clock was beeping on his night stand until he clicked the little button on the top. He groggily got out of bed and made a bowl of cereal while he looked over the ad for the night guard job.
"I don't see why they would need a night guard," Mike said to himself, out loud. Mike usually talked to himself because nobody was ever there. His little apartment only contained him. "This picture here shows a run down pizza shack. Why would anybody want to rob it?" Remembering his promise to himself to call them, he read the now-easy-to-read number on the bottom as he punched it in. "1-888-365-1940," he mumbled. *ring*
*ring*
*ri-click*
"Freddy Fazbear Pizzeria. Mr. Fazbear speaking," an excited voice answered. Nobody had probably called in weeks. Months, maybe.
"Yeah. I'm calling about that night guard job that was posted. Is it still available?"
"Oh, that. Yeah, the job is still open. If you want it, it's your's." His tone suddenly went bland. He'd most likely expected someone to call about business or a pizza party or something.
"Cool," I said. "I'll be there around ten."
"Be here by nine. I need to give you your duties."
"You got it boss." I then hung up the phone. That was so much easier than he'd though. He'd never heard of anyone getting a job so fast.
So, when the clock struck 20:00, Mike grabbed his jacket and his keys and walked out the door. His old 1997 Ford Falcon sat in the parking lot outside of his apartment. Clicking the unlock button on his key chain resulted in a click and a double beep from the car. Mike opened the door on the left side and inserted his key into the ignition. The car spluttered to life and, slowly, the radio came online. The song that was playing was an older song. The song that was playing was 'We Didn't Start the Fire'. Of course, Mike wasn't very music savvy and he didn't know the name. He pulled the e-brake down and put the car in reverse. He turned around and turned onto the nearly lifeless street and headed towards the place of his new job.

Mike arrived with two minutes to spare. He'd come the twenty four miles for this. He opened the front door with a slightly forced push. Rust must've gotten in the hinges or something, Mike thought. "Ahh. Right on time Mr..."
"Schmidt. Mike Schmidt."
"Yes, Mr. Schmidt. You have from midnight to 6 to watch over the place while I'm sleeping." And then he laughed.
"What about the rest of the staff? Won't they be sleeping too?" he asked sarcastically.
"Mike. You and I are the only staff members that need sleep. Ha ha ha! The rest are Robots." He apparently planned for Mike to say that, because he pulled back the stage curtain. He action revealed three animatronics. They were all in a poor condition from years of service. But each could be distinguished as a bear, a rabbit, and a duck.
"Meet Bonnie, Chica, and Freddy! They are so loyal, it brings me to tears to talk about them." It was true that his eyes were wet, but that's because he hurriedly turned around and blasted both of his eyes with a spray bottle.
"So what am I protecting, exactly, Mr. Fazbear," Mike asked.
"You're protecting my humble establishment. And by humble, I mean keep it safe so I can continue to still have money at the end of each month. The Bite of '87 scared a lot of people and this place has been in disrepair ever since." He sprayed his eyes again. "My precious business..." Mr. Fazbear took out a handkerchief and mopped up the water from his face. "Well, better get you to your post, soldier."

Mike had spent the last hour and a half reading the damn instructions manual for the generator to power the defenses.
Mr. Fazbear had said as he left, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. The power to the place turns off at midnight to six, your shift hours. There is a generator to power stuff in the place, but not everything. You'll need this tablet, too. It's linked up to the security cams around the building. Good luck!" And then he locked Mike in. He'd never been any good at reading. He'd throw the small, thin manual across the room several times already. He'd pulled on the cable the way he'd seen his Dad do it and only got a single chug out of it. He'd assumed it was out of fuel, but when he poured some in, it started to overflow.
"Damn piece of fuckin' shit!" He yelled at it as he kicked it. Nothing. So he turned to reading the manual again.
Step 1: Fuel it. Check.
Step 2: Check oil. Why should I?
Step 3: Prime it. What does that mean?
Step 4: Take your stance above the generator and pull.
If Generator does not start, repeat step 2 - 4.
That's all the manual said about the generator. How was he supposed to prime an engine? When you prime a steak, you let it sit. It's obviously been sitting here a while... Wait there's a button here...
"Pess... Pre... Press. to. Prime... Press to Prime," he read. "Are you serious? This big black was the prime?" Mike slammed his fist down on it and yanked the cord. And the generator started just before midnight.


Thank you so much for reading the introduction to my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and that you'll stick around for more chapters later on. Remember to post a review if you enjoyed. LowePlays, signing out.