A switch. That was all it was. A stupid switch. Flipped on or off. A fucking child could have turned those damn things off!
He 'd been tormented by these animatronic hell spawn from the first night. And now, on his seventh night, he'd had the foresight to look at those things in the daylight, when they couldn't move. Once he arrived, shortly before his shift, all he had to do was sneak around the four mascots. First was the three forming the Pizzeria Band, then that damn fox out in Pirate Cove. One, two, three, four. All off. No muss, no fuss. All that was left was to lounge in the security room for a night of peace.
And how peaceful it was. He lazily reclined in his chair, flicking through the videos, though now it was a habit. Pirate Cove? Check. The stage? Check. Halls, kitchen, restrooms. Check check check. Everyone in their place - and looking just as creepy. He stretched out, smiling as he picked up his sandwich, opening it to douse it in pepper, his nose crinkling a bit and sneezed. He froze, hurriedly looking through the cameras, before stopping himself. "They're off." he told himself, shaking his head. "The only thing they'll be scaring are bugs." But even so, he couldn't help but confirm it. Just once more. It was three already, and nothing seemed to have been happening. And nothing was!
Even as he looked at the surveillance, he picked up his sandwich and ate it. He then promptly began to choke. Did... Chica twitch? He stared at the screen, dropping his midnight snack. No... no it was a trick of the light. Even still.. he had to look. He had to.
Flipping through all the cameras he found himself stopping, lingering on Pirate Cove. Everything seemed calm, but before he flipped away his eyes widened. Was the curtain moving? It was, definitely fluttering, but he told himself it was nothing. The A/C is blowing. It's moving the curtain. "Fuck you, Foxy." he grumbled, feeling a chill remembering the animatronic speed demon hiding behind the curtain. "You fucking rot back there!"
Why did he feel uneasy now?
He flipped away, looking over everything. No, no. Everything was still fine. Still fine, still fine.
He'd manage to relax again, picking up his sandwich and began to eat once more, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that had creeped up.
That dread made him check the cameras again. And his heart stopped. "Where's Chica!?" he cried, jumping up from his chair. She was gone. But she couldn't be gone! But she was!
He cursed, frantically flipping through the cameras, his stomach dropping when he found her. Staring up at the camera in the dining area. And she looked pissed. "Oh... oh fuck you!" he shouted. "Get the fuck back on stage! You can't be moving! I turned you off!" It wasn't right. He knew he turned her off. Hers was the first switch he flipped!
He quickly looked back to the stage, a slight whimper pulling from his throat. "Bonnie..." Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Now that damn rabbit was gone! "W-where are you?!" he cried, making sure Chica was still in the dining area (yes, and still looking pissed) before he looked around for Bonnie. He cried out, jumping back when he saw Bonnie looking up at the camera in the supply closet. "You fucker!" he cried, panting as he grasped onto his chest. "You fucker! You and Chica, both! Back on stage!" He didn't know why he thought that'd work.
But soon a new worry set in. He checked on Chica (still in the dining area), then he quickly flipped to Pirate Cove. "Oh no..." He saw it. A flick of a tail move off screen. He moved to the West Hall, seeing Foxy turning the corner and charging. "Oh, not this time!" He lunched for the door, slamming his hand against the lock, his body shaking when he heard the mangled fox pound into the door, screeching. "Get the fuck away!" he shouted. "Go away! I turned you off! I turned all of you off! Why won't you stay off?!" No, this shouldn't be happening. Foxy shouldn't be here. Chica and Bonnie shouldn't be running around. He began to cry, his brain feeling like it would melt. He reached out for the small monitor, flipping through everything to try and keep tabs on the other three. Bonnie was back in place. Chica too. And he was hearing Foxy walk away. He carefully eased up on the lock, slumping back into his chair as he cried, his eyes wide and fixed on the monitors.
It was only four in the morning. He still had two more hours to survive.
And two hours were hell. The three animatrons seemed more hostile than ever. Foxy was poking his head out of Pirate Cove every five minutes. Bonnie and Chica seemed to run around more often, even suddenly popping up at the doors if he didn't track them fast enough. Only Freddy seemed to behaving himself.
And that worried him most of all.
He looked over to the clock, making sure the three members of the band were in their place, and Foxy was still hiding behind his curtain. Five-fifty. Just ten more minutes. He rubbed his brow, checking everything again before he froze. Freddy was gone. Everyone was in their place, but that damn bear. And he was beginning to realize how little power he had left. He had to make it count. He had to keep Freddy out at all costs. He instinctively slammed the door closed, checking the monitors as he tried to track the bear, becoming more and more aware of his dwindling power supply.
Five minutes. "Oh God, please..." he whispered, opening the door to try and conserve power, still frantically flipping through everything. In the kitchen he paused, just long enough to listen. And he heard it. The jingle. He sucked in his breath, slamming the door closed again to keep, his knees beginning to buckle as he prayed the others would stay in place, his eyes wide as he stared as he watched the little amount of power he had slowly drop down.
With a whirr noise, the little power remaining depleted, and he was thrown into darkness. The door flung itself open, and he let out a startled cry, flinging himself back into his chair, hearing something being knocked off the small desk in front of him. He didn't remember how long he had left, but by instincts his body fell limp, and he forced himself to breathe shallowly. Play dead. Go limp. He'll get bored. It worked before. It always seemed to work, even if the previous guard had told him it wasn't a good idea, it had worked. As long as he didn't have long left, it would work. It was silent at first, and he began to relax, though felt himself tense when he heard the beginning of Freddy's jingle play. It was the worst thing to have to listen to, and it made trying to be still even more difficult. His eyes flicked to the door, seeing the glowing visage of that stupid bear. The chiming seemed to slow. Yes. Go away. Nothing in here but a costume. It was working. Yes. He could hear something. Freddy was leaving. Good. He was certain he wouldn't have long left. He could stay still for a few more minutes.
His nose crinkled slightly as he became aware of the pepper that had spilled earlier. His eyes widened a bit as he gritted his teeth. Fuck. No no no no no no... Before he could gather his reflexes, it came.
"A-choo!" Shit.
He looked around him, seeing the faces of all four mascots, their arms outstretched and reaching.
Fuck this job.