Prologue: Name Your Price

The phone in Arianna's office rang, and the manager answered.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, this is Arianna," she said.

"Hello. I understand you have animatronic characters?" the person on the other end of the line, a man, said.

"That's right," Arianna replied, "Since we opened in '82."

She had been leaning back in her chair, but straightened once the robots were mentioned. Did they do something last night? It had been four days since Foxy had to be shipped between Schmidt's house and the pizzeria, so had something happened?

"I was wondering if you were considering selling any of them. I understand that your restaurant is… struggling," the man said, a hint of smugness in his voice.

"We're doing alright," Arianna replied harshly, "And none of them are for sale."

The voice let out a thoughtful "Hmm."

"Come now, don't pretend everything's alright. Let me rephrase myself: I want them. Name your price," the voice baited.

"Let me rephrase myself: I don't want to sell them to you," Arianna replied harshly. The man on the other end's voice turned harsh as well.

"You know as well as I do your business won't last another year!" the man said, "And believe me when I say I am not someone with which you want to make an enemy."

Arianna laughed.

"Oh yeah? You don't scare me, buddy, I run a kid's restaurant! First of all, these are our robots, second of all, kiss my ass!" Arianna snapped, and slammed the handset back into its base.

"Dick," she muttered under her breath, looking at the latest attendance figures. There had been a slight rise in business after the whole fiasco at the mall, although Schmidt never explained the entire situation. His plan to get the animatronics out of there ended up getting the restaurant some positive publicity for once, despite complaints at the animatronics' condition.

Arianna sighed. Deep down, a part of her did take personal ownership of them, and she truly didn't want to sell them, company policy or not. And it was upsetting seeing them start to wear down. Nothing akin to a failure had happened yet, but joints squeaked, movements were jerkier than before, and their suits desperately needed to be replaced. Unfortunately, many of the suits Backstage were worse than the ones the animatronics wore, considering what they used them for, and dark bloodstains would not make for a family friendly atmosphere.

Another thing that worried Arianna was the recent discovery that the robots were completely sentient. It was a surprising realization, one that could have possible massive scientific value, and be worth a lot of money. It had been the goal since the restaurant began to have incredibly smart artificial intelligence, and learning software was used to create them. This software, had, over time, granted the robots unique personalities, likes and dislikes, and a sense of a social group such as friends.

But with all the controversy surrounding the pizzeria now, it was unlikely anything good would come out of revealing their sentience anyway, and the animatronics would most likely be scrapped, since they were completely capable of committing murder, and could plan out how. Yes, this wasn't intentional, but scientists wouldn't care. Even she didn't fully trust them, the only one who truly did was Mike, who spent the most time with them.

Arianna frowned. Mike. He was quite possibly her only ally in keeping this restaurant afloat, being the only other staff member who had personal ties to the place through his robotic friends, and he had proven to be almost next to useless. Yes, he had gotten the animatronics out of the whole mall situation, but he also allowed the deaths of two of people, and let a fire start. And there was that whole debacle with his parents. Idiot.

Arianna placed the new attendance data (which she had measured herself, since she could usually count the customers in the Dining Hall on one hand) back into the folder. The restaurant was just barely hanging on, and thankfully the insurance was able to completely cover the Kitchen repair, same as after the break-in. That one large party they had nearly a week ago had pushed the funds enough into the green to keep the place up and running through the rest of the year, if attendance didn't drop more than it already had. Who knew how long it would last?


Damon Trout paced back and forth in his office, his assistant leafing through papers. Trout was an icon in entertainment venues, and his company, Trout Entertainment, dominated the so-called "dinner theatre" genre. He owned a vaudeville style steakhouse, a medieval themed restaurant that held actual tournaments, a chain of murder-mystery venues, and a popular chain of small sit-down restaurants that featured magicians. But, aside from the medieval restaurant, most of his eateries only appealed to adults. And the real money was found in children. That's when he learned of Freddy Fazbear's.

Apparently, it was extremely popular in the 1980s, but never expanded past one restaurant. Recent times haven't been kind to the place, and Trout heard rumors that the pizzeria would be closing. The success story of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was what inspired him to make his own pizza place, complete with singing animatronic animals, to fill the gap Freddy's would leave upon its closure. Plus, he could expand, and soon have a chain spread throughout the nation! The formula clearly worked for Freddy's. And so, Pizza Baron was born. The name came from the main animatronic character, a German shepherd dressed in traditional lederhosen and hat (Europe was apparently all the rage these days), named Baron Von Pizzä. He would serve as the more "serious" character, being the one to explain rules and such. And what better voice than a German accent?

To appeal to the younger audience members, there was Drake the Dragon, dressed in knight armor and brandishing both sword and trumpet. For the older children, there was Maxwell Circuit, a wolf-dog animatronic that played a keytar, an instrument that was a cross between a guitar and a keyboard. Research had shown kids thought both were cool, so putting them together just made sense.

Trout had purchased these robots from the firm Freddy Fazbear's parent company, Animatronics Limited, competed the most with: New Wave Robotics. They had promised a new breed of intelligent animatronics, boasting about how they had finally figured out how to make them talk to the audience. And they were expensive.

Trout witnessed a demonstration, and was impressed that there was only a several second long pause between asking a question and getting an appropriate response. That was until their head mechanic spoke up.

His name was Nathan Grymes, and he didn't really speak up as oppose to laugh. He explained that he had worked for Freddy Fazbear's Pizza for years, working until the company was forced to drop him in 1987, and that these "buckets of bolts" were nothing compared to Fazbear's. Trout remembered the conversation he had had.

"Is that so, Mr. Grymes?" Trout asked. Nathan nodded.

"Yup. They could answer any question, conduct games and stuff, and with no long pauses. They were the best," the mechanic had said, eyes staring off into the memory, "They're probably all run down now, I couldn't bear to see 'em now after leaving town to work for you."

"And what made them so special?" the technician New Wave sent demanded sourly.

"Sorry. Swore to never tell. Trade secret," Nathan replied, grinning smugly at the New Wave technician.

"Well, I suppose we'd just have to buy these animatronics," Trout said, and Nathan looked at him.

"Oh, come on, they'd never sell them to you. And besides, they wouldn't want to go," Nathan told Trout.

"Who? The animatronics?" Trout, asked, and laughed, "They're machines, Mr. Grymes, and put your previous employer loyalty aside. You work for me now. Now fix that little wiring issue with Maxwell."

Nathan grumbled, and did what was he was told, climbing up onto the large stage. That was the rule: everything just like Freddy's, but bigger. Scope was what Trout thought doomed Freddy's, that they just didn't take things far enough. So Trout ordered a bigger building, bigger pizzas, bigger menus, bigger tables, et cetera and et cetera. The only thing that wasn't bigger than Fazbear's was the animatronic count.

Trout wanted four, but the New Wave techs were only able to construct three in the timeslot they had been given. That was the reason for Trout to be so adamant about getting a Fazbear animatronic: it would add to the cast, and provide valuable technical knowledge to be able to construct replicas. This was also why he was so frustrated by his offer of buying one to be refused, just as Nathan said it would. He would need another plan.


Hearing Mike snoring faintly from his bedroom, Foxy crept as quietly as he could through the front door of Mike's apartment, first sticking his head out to make sure the coast was clear. Satisfied, the fox strode out into the hall, going three doors down and to the left, in front of apartment 207. He raised his good hand and knocked five times in a quick staccato rhythm, and the door quickly opened.

"Were you followed?" the resident asked, looking past Foxy and into the hall.

"O'course no'," Foxy replied, and stepped inside, the resident closing the door behind him.

"So," Foxy said, "How are ye, lass?"

"Fine," replied the resident, a seven year old girl by the name of Lindsay. She and Foxy met three days ago, quickly becoming friends. Lindsay lived with her single father, her mother having been killed in a car accident when she was just a baby. Her father worked long hours during the day, so when Lindsay had the day off, she was typically by herself. Except now, with Foxy visiting her every day while Mike was still asleep.

"Wha' do ye wan' ta do today?" Foxy asked eagerly, "Pirates?"

Lindsay giggled.

"You always say that," She told the fox.

"O'course lass, I am a pirate!" Foxy said proudly.

This exchange had become commonplace between the two.

"Let's play hide and seek again. You hide first," Lindsay said.

"Alrigh'. Get ta countin'" Foxy ordered, smiling, and as soon as Lindsay closed her eyes, he searched around, looking for a place to hide. He quickly snuck into the bathroom, stepping into the shower and closing the curtains. The fox actually stood taller than the curtain rod, and bent his knees to settle behind it.

From the bathroom, Foxy could hear Lindsay finish counting, and shout

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Foxy stuck his head out between the curtains, listening intently for a sign for where the girl could be. He heard a closet door open and shut, and bare footsteps slapping loudly against the tile floor of the kitchen. She was getting closer.

Withdrawing back into the curtains, Foxy stood stock-still. A minute later, the curtains were yanked open, and Lindsay squealed in accomplishment.

"I found you! Ha!" she cheered.

"Aye, lass, good job," Foxy praised, chuckling as he stepped out of the shower, metal feet leaving occasional tiny scrapes on the tile and wood floor, and he returned to the living room. Lindsay never questioned his obvious metal construction, and Foxy wasn't sure if that was because she didn't understand what he was, or didn't care. Either way, it didn't matter, Foxy was happy to find a new matey that didn't find him intimidating.

"Okay, now you count. And no cheating!" Lindsay ordered, pointing a finger for emphasis.

"Wouldn' dream o' it, lass," Foxy assured, and closed his eyes, beginning to count to ten. He could hear the girl scamper away.

Upon reaching ten, Foxy opened his eyes and searched around the room he was in. No sign of Lindsay. Foxy walked into the kitchen and began to open up some of the cupboards. Yesterday, Lindsay had genuinely confused the pirate captain by managing to squeeze herself into the large pantry, and he had searched the small spaces in the kitchen ever since.

Finding nothing, the search continued into Lindsay's bedroom, checking the most obvious spot first: under the bed. Foxy actually lost his balance trying to slowly lower himself, and fell with a small crash of metal. He heard giggling from the closet as he awkwardly stood up, and could see the door quickly shut.

Now knowing where his quarry was, the fox decided to have a little bit of fun. He feigned being completely confused, and began to search around the room, listening closely for Lindsay's reaction. Foxy heard her smother a laugh when he looked into a small pot that sat on her windowsill, and acted generally dismayed upon finding it empty.

After a few more impossible hiding spots were searched, Foxy suddenly raised his hook up, shouting "Aha!" and turning for the closet. He pulled the door open to reveal Lindsay sitting on a pile of dirty clothes.

"Got ye!" Foxy said, carrying her out of the closet. Lindsay squealed as she was spun around and deposited on her bed.

"Wha' do ye wan' ta do now?" Foxy asked, but he was interrupted when he heard Mike's voice faintly from out in the hall.

"Blast! He's awake!" Foxy said, and walked to the front door, putting his ear to it. He heard rapid footsteps up and down the hall, and could hear Mike calling out his name. Lindsay walked up to him and put her ear to the door also. She frowned when Mike called out Foxy's name again.

"Who's that?" the girl asked.

"Tha' be Mike," Foxy said, rolling his eyes as the guard became more frantic, "I best be shovin' off now, lass. 'Till tomorrow."

"Okay," Lindsay said sadly, and Foxy opened the door, stepping out right in front of Mike, who skidded to a halt to avoid crashing into him.

"There you are! What are you doing? What if someone's see you?" Mike scolded, and Foxy rolled his eyes.

"Aye, aye, I know. Yer not makin' it better by screamin' yer head off," Foxy replied, and headed back to Mike's apartment. Mike sighed, and followed.

"What were you doing in there?" Mike asked, worried.

"I was playin' with Lindsay," Foxy replied matter-of-fact.

Mike's brow furrowed.

"Lindsay? What about her dad?" Mike asked, remembering the family.

"He be away durin' tha day," Foxy explained.

"And she's okay with… you know…" Mike started awkwardly, and Foxy narrowed his eyes.

"Wha'? Me bein' made o' metal? She don' care," Foxy said.

"Okay, that's good. You know you're not supposed to do that, right?" Mike asked.

"Aye," Foxy replied flatly, and turned away, deciding to watch television.

Mike sighed, and walked back into his bedroom to try and get more sleep. He had work that night, after all.


A/N: Finally, after months, years, decades, EONS of waiting (it feels), welcome to Night Five! The final night!

Of the work week. Also of the main game's canon. Not this story, though. Why'd you think that? So, yeah… Oh, so, the winners of the contest! Give me a drum roll, readers' imagination!

-drum roll-

For the character of Baron von Pizzä, that goes to my good friend, KamikazeRebel (kinda bullshit, since he's my best friend, but screw it, I liked the character). I also have him to thank for a majority of what this story will become, since he helped me IMMENSELY with ideas of where to take the plot (he's entirely responsible for the creation of Pizza Baron).

For the character of Maxwell Circuit, a.k.a. "Spark Bark" (that'll make sense later), congratulations to PersonalitySoup

And last but not least, congratulations to prime12 for the character of Drake the Dragon.

Thank you to everyone who submitted an original character, I believe I was able to get back to all of you. I regret not being able to use all of the ideas I received, but that would be impossible for me to write. I was blown away by how many people wanted to be a part of this, and it was really difficult to essentially look at they're idea, shake my head, and say "nope, not you." I cried. On the inside. Really, really, deep inside. Like, slightly to the left of my spleen.

I'm excited to also say that several people have linked to my writer's page and otherwise have given me a shout out on places like they're deviantART posts, Tumbler, FanFiction, and others. Thank you, that's really kind of y'all.

I know I say it a lot, but that's because I mean it: I'm incredibly lucky to have readers like you. It's because of you guys that we made it to Night Five, and will go beyond it. Thank you all so much for your support, and I can't wait for the future of my series, and other stuff I'll do. I'm planning on compiling all my stories, editing them for consistency and grammar, and posting them as one giant story that people can read in one sitting. But, we'll have to finish the Just Another Night series first. And who knows, maybe it won't be the end….(this is too many periods)….

So, yep, thanks as always for reading, and have a good one! –DeltaV, "I spell "subtle" like ***SUBTLE***"