How did I get here?

Why would anyone want this minimum-wage hellhole of a job?

I bent down to reach for a wayward empty shake container, accidentally hitting my head under the table as my back cramped. Some kids in the next booth laughed.

'The customer is always right,' I thought with clenched fists, trying to remember the Freddy Fazbear Pizzeria's employee code of conduct. But I couldn't resist shooting a sharp glare at them.

One of the cocky little snots rolled their eyes and threw their coke at me, daring me to do anything other than snivel at their feet, beg their forgiveness, clean up their mess and change into a clean uniform. The other four kids laughed as if my situation, my pain, my humiliation was the funniest thing in the world.

Something inside me snapped.

This was exactly the kind of cruel thing I did to workers when I was a kid. I'd be doing these kids a favour by straightening them out now, while they still had a chance at a brighter future.

Let's see how they like it in the shoes of someone required to act the same happy way all the damn time – like… the animatronics. They had just finished being repaired, and were waiting to be recommissioned the next day. Perfect.

I walked out the back and put the golden bear suit on.

Little shits didn't bat an eyelid as they came to the back to collect their 'prize', a valuable life-lesson: respect your elders or else.

Once they got over the initial shock, I was sure I'd be in their hearts forever.

-0-

I hadn't meant to kill them.

I'd thought they were complaining because they were afraid of the dark. How was I supposed to know that they were screaming because of the machinery inside of the animatronics?

I'd ignored their pleas and left them locked in the back room until my shift ended at 12pm. Sure, it was definitely a long time for them, but hey, they'd surely learn their lesson.

I knew something was wrong when I came back into the room. None of them were breathing, their bodies contorted. In my shock, left them there and ran into the kitchen, accidentally causing a pile of pots and pans to fall.

Panicked, I dashed out, running into the night security guard who had the midnight to 6AM shift. The idiot didn't even ask me what was wrong. Just smiled politely and went to his workstation. You'd know I'd completely hit the bottom of the barrel if I had that shift. It's so obvious that he was conditioned to treat every situation as positive, even if the work conditions were atrocious. Rots the brain.

They ended up identifying me the next day using the shitty video surveillance. What a joke. How can you identify anything with that?

The management could have just left the report as kids gone missing. They didn't have to do the right thing and correct the police. It would have been a perfect, albeit unethical, way of covering up the deaths. But who am I to expect management to treat an employee as anything other than expendable?

I sighed. I knew I was reminiscing more considering it was almost time for my execution.

There was a knock on the steel door, and it slid upwards. It was a Pastor.

"Care to share anything, my child?"

Fine. I'll play along.

"There was an incident, way back in '87. The Bite of '87, we called it. Turned out an employee had accidentally bumped the CPU of Foxy, causing it to bite through his forehead, removing the frontal lobe. The bloke ripped at Foxy, and finally tore himself away. They got him to hospital on time. In order to avoid paying more compensation, they claimed he was able to work so they brought him back. I can understand their logic – quite possibly you don't need your frontal lobe in order to work there. Unfortunately, he staggered into the main electrical switchboard, caught on fire, and died. We had to switch to generator power after that. But on the bright side, we got new carpets."

"And why does this concern you, son?"

Er… what? "So the moral of the story… don't ever tamper with the animatronics, else you get… fired. And terminated." I burst into faux laughter.

"Better a few moments of fire on a mortal body than eternal hellfire, my child," replied the Pastor.

Yeah, right.

"Thank you for those comforting words, Father," I said in the most sincere tone I could muster.

The Pastor nodded and left the room.

I didn't show any fear as they strapped me down for my lethal injection.

Damn. I wonder what it must have felt like to be stuffed into that mess of wires and circuits.

In a way, the kids were still alive. Those animatronics were still moving around even with their lifeless bodies inside them. I remember the final announcement in the newspaper clipping from the CEO – the animatronics will live on in the hearts of children, huh?

Almost time.

It's like I'd been through hell already in that job.

What's on the other side couldn't be that bad, could it?

END

A/N: This story is meant to say the game is Mike Schmidt's nightmare/hell. The game is actually quite fascinating. Developer has said that the story given by Phone Guy is misleading... the whole thing screws with the brain!

Trying to say the whole "IT'S ME" messages meant that Mike was the guy who killed the kids, and it's all happening inside his head. Or hell. :D

Hopefully you get the references in the game –

Bite of '87

New carpets, filed as a missing person's report on the phone message of Night 1

The 'fired/terminated for tampering with animatronics' notice on Night 7