Graveyard Shift

Disclaimer- My name is not Scott Cawthon. I do not own Five Nights at Freddy's. I'm just writing a series of fanfics based on the game. The other one I have planned right now will be a prequel (Underneath Plaster-Framed Teeth). When the second game comes out, I'll make a story on that as well.

A/N- This Story will be rated T for some rather unpleasant images. Also, I decided a straight-up novelization of the game would be boring, so I'm adding some of my own touches.

Chapter 1- Opportunity Knocks

There are some experiences that you can never forget. These situations can change one's entire life for better or for worse.

Before I explain just what the hell happened to me, let's start on how it all began. My name is Mike Schmidt, one of the only people to survive working as the night watchman at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

I had just pulled into the parking lot of one of my favorite hangouts, an somewhat shabby-looking diner on the far end of town. My girlfriend invited me out for lunch on a Thursday afternoon. She sat at the table closest to the counter. I sat at the chair across from her. Right by her left elbow was some newspaper clipping. I stared at the paper in disgust.

A smiling bear holding a microphone stared at me from a photograph. Beside the photo was a classified ad for a job. I crossed my arms in disgust. "Kelly, do you secretly hate me?" I grumbled.

"No, why do you ask?" she replied.

I glanced at the ad. "You find me an advertisement for a kiddie pizzeria."

"You said you needed a job though," my girlfriend replied. "Would you rather I bring in an ad for a grocery store clerk?"

I picked up the ad, just to see the job description.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," I silently read. "Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the night shift 12 am to 6 am. Monitor cameras and ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters. Not responsible for injury/dismemberment." A phone number lay at the bottom of the ad. I thumbed around in my pants pocket. Good, I had my cell phone with me. The last sentence really struck a chord with me. Why would they even include that? A waiter walked over to us.

"And what would you two like to drink?" he asked. His gaze drifted to the ad. We quickly looked over the menu and both ordered water. He scrawled the order down on a sheet of paper before taking one last glance at the ad. I heard him mumble something. The only thing I could make out was the name Christine.

I took the ad and slipped it in my jacket pocket, just as the waiter put two glasses of water on the table. What was special about a place famous for mediocre pizza and disturbing robot animals playing kid-friendly tunes? I sipped my water, sneaking glances at Kelly. Oh, how I'd love to prove her wrong about Freddy's Pizzeria. How I'd tell her that the only thing scary about the whole place was a family of rats living in the ball pit.

A hour later, I parked in front of the house that I shared with my two cousins. I groaned. Dave better not mock me at the next family reunion for taking a job at Freddy's.

"Come in," a sweet, feminine voice said. I opened the door. My cousin Melanie sat on the worn tan sofa, reading a magazine. I let my jacket fall to the floor. The ad inside fluttered out of my pocket and landed right beside her.

Her gaze flickered to the ad. "Ah, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I loved going there as a kid." She sighed. "It's still in business?"

I nodded. "Why else would they want someone to look after the place?" I paused. Should I tell her that I wanted to apply there, if only for something to brag about with my friends? I stared back at the clipping. "Melanie, I was thinking about applying for that job." I finally admitted.

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure you want it?"

I groaned. "Don't tell me, the place is haunted."

"Well," she replied. "People disappear from that place all the time. Or at least that's what Mrs. Cartwright down the road keeps saying."

I picked the ad up and walked to my bedroom. This was going to be painful. I dialed the number.

"Thank you for contacting Fazbear Entertainment," an oddly cheery man answered. "Where fun and fantasy come to life. How may I help you?'

I cringed a bit. "Uh, I'm calling about the ad in the paper. I would like to apply for the position."

"Great!" he beamed. "We're always in need of night shift security guards. We need someone to make sure our state-of-the-art animatronics are in good condition. Could you come to the pizzeria tomorrow at 11 for an interview?"

I paused. A sudden chill came over me. "Okay, I'll be there." I spat out, before hanging up the phone.

The front door swung open. Dave, a burly linebacker-type guy strode into the apartment. I cringed. Melanie better not tell him where I'll probably be spending my nights. I hid in the shadow of my bed.

"Dave, Dave!" Melanie said. "How was work today?"

Dave just tossed his bag on the couch. "Busy," he groaned. My gaze darted to the living room.

"Don't tell him about Freddy's. Don't tell him about Freddy's." I repeated to myself. "Don't tell him about Freddy's."

Melanie gave a slight chuckle. "Mike might have found himself a new job," she said.

"Don't tell him about Fred..."

"Mike's got an interview for a night shift job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!" Melanie finally blurted out.

I felt like I wanted to rip out some of my hair.

Dave just laughed. "Wait, who would want to be there during the night?"

I turned my head to face the door, trying to hide my annoyance. I got up slowly, thumbing around in my closet for something nice to wear to my job interview. I set a white dress shirt and a pair of slacks on a small three-legged table near my closet door.

Well, I couldn't actually work at Freddy's without an interview, so here's how it went. I walked down the driveway to my five-year-old minivan and climbed inside. I pulled out of the driveway and headed across town. The pizzeria was this large cinder-block building beside a patch of trees. I read the multicolored neon lights. I swallowed hard and stepped inside the building.

An overweight, balding man greeted me near the door. He had a really fake-looking smile on his face. I heard a faint sound of the animatronic band from down the hall.

"Is everybody having a good time at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?" a syrupy, cartoony voice asked.

A handful of children cheered.

The man gave a slight chuckle before escorting me into a conference room. "Well, before we get started, what is your name?"

"Mike Schmidt," I replied. I sat down in a brown felt chair. The man quickly identified himself as Mr. Thompson.

I kept staring at the poster on the back wall. The animatronic band, which consisted of a purple bunny, brown bear, and oversized yellow chick, stood under text reading "Celebrate!"

"So, Mike," Mr. Thompson began. He clutched a pen in hand, jotting down notes on a notepad. "Previous jobs?"

I paused, trying to remember every job I've been doing since I was sixteen, or at least as many as I can. "Operated a Ferris Wheel at Coney Island, worked the register at a grocery store."

"Where did you hear about this place?"

I paused. "Um, a close friend told me." My gaze kept flickering to the poster on the wall. I felt like the characters were staring at me.

"Why should we hire you?"

I froze, trying to think up reasons I could handle a night shift job. "Uh, I'm focused... I can react to things... quickly." My hands shook.

Mr. Thompson's smile seemed to widen. "You'll be a perfect night watchman!" He cheered. "Congrats, you got the job."

I paused. That was odd. I never expected to get immediately accepted. Mr. Thompson just handed me a neatly folded uniform.

"We'll see you next Monday," he said. I thanked him and carried the uniform out to my van.

I guess they were desperate for a security guard, I told myself. I set the uniform on the passenger seat and turned on the ignition. Monday was only a couple days away. I had a while to cope with my new job.

The worst week of my life had to start sometime...

I hate writing beginnings, but I have no other choice. In the next chapter, I'll get to the fun part.