Rolling the Dice
[Another Sleep Deprivation production. (Fritz hates the fact that there aren't any tags for this.)]
"So."
Mike Schmidt flipped over the colored token, inspecting its rough edges. "You guys up for a game of-"
"Ludo?" Fritz laughed from the opposite end of the table, almost scathingly. "Screw you, we've been in a cramped office with killer animatronics right outside, it's a Sunday night, and we're playing Ludo?"
"Unless you have something better to do," Mike said, flicking the red piece at him, earning a glare. "Which I know you don't."
The dimly lit room was warm, surprisingly, and even Fritz held onto a cup of cocoa with a rare serenity and didn't get up to break something. Outside, the chilly November wind made noises that seemed to Mike like those of a narwhale. He glanced at the dark curtains covering the windows.
The four people on the table were friends, if not mere associates.
Fazbear Entertainment liked to find people like them to work at their restaurant, not because of the bad publicity but because these guys had balls of steel.
Well not really, they were just in need of a job and happened to like the prospect of dealing with possessed androids at night for a shitty pay, but no one needed to know that petty detail. Nothing scared Fritz anymore since that time with the cupcake.
"Hey, it's alright. It's a Sunday, and we need a break. What's better than a night with the team, huh?" Scott. The eternal optimist. If he had a penny for each time he'd told them that everything was going to be okay, Mike was sure they were all billionaires at this point.
Jeremy Fitzgerald sat opposite to Scott, sullenly picking on the blue pieces. He didn't say anything. That wasn't really surprising.
"Scott, you are a freaking sap," Fritz muttered, shoving the red piece away from his side of the table, but didn't object when he watched Mike pull out the quadruple colored board and turn the red part of it towards himself. He narrowed his eyes at the bright part of the board facing him. "Chica. Yuck. Why did I have to get yellow?"
"'Cause she loves you." A new voice muttered.
"No, she loves the cupcake that happens to love the office desk."
Jeremy held back a smile, despite the fact that the statement was anything but funny. He looked like one of the characters you'd see in music videos, with his blue sweatshirt, grey beanie and blond hair. Well, one specific video, anyway. Currently, he was staring down at the blue part of the board which was facing him.
The four awkwardly looked around, and as much as Scott would hate to admit it, the air around them was indeed, uncomfortable awkward. He straightened the night guard uniform he was unfortunately wearing and plastered a smile on his face.
"Highest roll starts the game, guys. Who wants to go first?"
"The last time I played this," Fritz said, "I was probably with that asshole two year old niece I told you guys about." He picked up the dice and rolled. "Seven."
Jeremy was next. "Nine."
"Three," Mike muttered, sounding a bit defeated already. "Fritz, you've jinxed the dice. Get out."
"Hey," Scott said, sending a glare his way, "Fritz will stay right where he is. Six."
Fritz sent a triumphant look in Mike's direction, the one that a person might give after having foiling a plan that was supposed to end with their demise. Mike only flicked one of the yellow tokens off the table, and the grin was replaced with a murderous glare as the man went under the table to search for the piece.
"Jeremy goes first then."
Said person was busy arranging the four blue disks onto their spots on the board with a precision that couldn't be rivaled by anyone in the room (mainly because no one else would have the patience to do that.) He looked up, surprised. "Huh?"
"Okay, Jay isn't interested, get over it," Fritz said, reaching for the dice once he'd found his missing token, "I'll do it instead."
Scott looked more than a bit exasperated, but he still held his smile. "Just give it to Jeremy."
Jeremy rolled, and moved his token six steps forward.
The silence was so intense it could have been pricked with a metaphorical pin, but no one did. Not even as both Mike and Fritz played their turns, and now watched Scott fidget with the dice.
Think, Scott. Think.
"You know," Scott said, rolling the dice, "there's been some funny stuff that's happened with the animatronics during the shifts."
Fritz sarcastically widened his eyes. "Oh, the machines that want to murder us and potentially stuff us in suits have a sense of humor?" He snorted, kicking the leg of the table. "I doubt it."
"No, really." He moved his piece four steps ahead and prepared to roll again for the doubles. "So Foxy is this pirate themed android right, and so he has these times when he really gets into the element, and it's hilarious. Even when he's running down the hall."
"What did he say?" Jeremy asked, the interest in his voice as plain as day. Mike had looked up as well from cracking his knuckles, looking a bit intrigued.
He shrugged, the grin on his face growing. "It was sometime after two, and I was taking care of Freddy when I realized I forgot to check on him. So..uh, I went to Pirates Cove. But it was empty, and I heard Foxy running down the hall. And, uh, just before I closed the door, he said 'I came fer ye booty'" he tried to imitate the fox's pirate accent, "and ran into it."
Fritz snickered. "Jeez, I can imagine that. Foxy's got some guilty pleasures."
Jeremy was smiling, and Mike coughed, but you could tell he was trying to mask a small chuckle.
"Hey, now that I think about it," Fritz said suddenly, looking up. "I had to repair Bonnie at some point last month. I think his guitar had a string loose or something. Would've left the bugger with his eyes out but I don't think he's one for eye patches and all that."
He grinned, and Scott nodded encouragingly.
"Anyway, so I did that, and I think I left my jacket there or something? And when the night shift started, I was about to close the door on this guy when he frickin' threw my jacket in and walked off."
"No way," Mike said, holding up a hand for emphasis. "Now that did not happen."
"I swear, guys! It did," he protested, "and get this - he didn't show up for the rest of the night. It was mostly Chica and Foxy, even Freddy was having a night off. Bonnie was literally standing around the Show Stage the whole time."
"I don't believe you."
"Then... Then how would you explain this?" Fritz pulled off his white and red jacket and pointed to a large, dark handprint with only four distinct fingers near the red tinted pockets. It wasn't that apparent, and even Jeremy, the most observant of them all, would have noticed it that easily.
Mike raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that you didn't wash that for weeks?"
"It just happened last Wednesday, and I don't wash stuff myself."
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Scott said, throwing up both his arms. "Mike, something like this must've happened to you too. Care to share?"
"Nope."
"Not even one time it's happened?"
"No." Mike looked at everyone's faces. "I mean that it's never happened to me before. I'm not that much of prick."
No one knew what to say for a while, so silence led the way for the next few minutes.
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Jeremy rolled and pushed his token in front. Suddenly, Fritz's eyes seemed to light up like a firecracker.
"Jay, you didn't tell them about the time when you fell as-"
"No, shut up."
Scott grinned. "What did Jeremy do this time?"
"Nothing."
"Exactly! He did nothing. He was sleeping on the shift."
Mike's eyes met his. "Wait, how?"
Jeremy looked at his fists, before breaking into a sigh. "I was sleepy on the shift, so I fell asleep."
"And you didn't die?"
"No."
"Get this, man," Fritz said, "he literally had a blanket and everything. The whole package. And the music box wasn't wound up at all."
"It's no big deal-" he said weakly, but Mike looked absolutely furious.
"How?" he demanded. "We suffer with bloodthirsty animatronics trying to bust in through doors, and you have vents, but none of them break in to actually kill you?"
"Well," Jeremy said, "Balloon Boy did show up. He stole the batteries from my flashlight."
"Still." Scott interjected, looking amazed. "You even took a blanket with you?"
"No... it-it wasn't mine," he said, slightly abashed, and everyone looked even more shocked.
"Who the hell gave it to you?" Fritz yelled, slamming his palms on the table. "I thought it was yours!"
"I don't know. I woke up with it." Jeremy would have told them the entire story, but he didn't know who had brought it. The blanket had disappeared just as mysteriously as it had appeared, since Jeremy, in a haze, had left it on the desk when he left the pizzeria to go home.
"It's got to be one of the animatronics, it has to be," Fritz muttered. Mike sent him a disbelieving look. "No way. I think the manager gave it to him."
"Dude, she doesn't show up to the place until after seven. And I was there at six... something. She's terrified of the animatronics and wouldn't step in unless she saw, I don't know, that celebrity she's fawning over. Robert Downey Junior."
"She'd probably faint even with a twelve foot long pole."
"Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, uh, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced." Scott said, trying to keep a straight face, and everyone was laughing.
"I never got over that," Mike said, cracking a small smile. "It's still weird to think about. You die at the hands of a self driven machine and they won't explore it further."
Silence.
"Way to kill the mood," Fritz said, shrugging.
"What can I say? There's not much you can do about inherited stuff."Mike rolled the dice and frowned. "Twelve. I can remove another token, right?"
"Yeah, you can do that or you can play normally and have an extra turn with the doubles." Scott confirmed, reading out of the rule book.
"I'm taking out my second one."
Fritz glared at the dice. "I wish you would stop giving Mike great luck, and I jinx you forever."
"They ain't gonna listen to a twerp," Mike scoffed, handing them to Scott.
"Also, bless Jeremy. Give him the best stuff you got." The person in question smirked slightly from his spot, nodding his head. "He deserves it more than this jerk with... with a Limp Bizkit t-shirt."
"You just don't have good taste."
"I'm at least decent."
"You know," Scott said, loudly, "I was there for the day shift at some point, and they hired this guy who was Italian or something. So they were teaching him English, uh, and the only TV with an active subscription was near the show stage. And they stood there, watching this.. uh, English speaking skills channel before the pizzeria opened. And Toy Freddy, he was watching too."
"How could you tell?" Jeremy asked. "Was he facing the TV?"
"Yeah, that must be it. I swear it looked like he was listening to whatever the guy onscreen was saying."
"That's freaky," Fritz said, rolling the dice and moving a few steps forward. "So they can be active during the day."
Scott nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's what I thought. During the time when the kids aren't around, I mean."
"Foxy's the only one who hasn't got a written code for what to do during the day, but he's really protective of kids," Jeremy piped up, eyeing the marshmallows in the plate next to Mike. "And the kids like him too."
Mike shrugged. "You can get the logic behind it though. Foxy's like the outcast of the band of animatronics on stage, y'know. And some of them probably see themselves in him or something."
"I think its just because he comes across as a good animatronic in general, to kids," Scott suggested. "He may look like he came out of scrapyard, but the way he converses with them is really... nice to watch."
"Okay, we get it," Fritz said, "you love Foxy."
"No, no! I mean, he's my favorite animatronic but... no."
The four burst into laughter, even Scott, who looked extremely flustered.
"Just play your turn."
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"The Pizzeria's second office has as many vents as fireplaces in the LEGO Batman Movie."
Jeremy nodded, munching on a marshmallow with a force that Yoda would be proud of. "Yeah man. Some times I wonder why there are only two vents and a single opening, and where the vents for the vents are since exaggeration is key."
Fritz choked on his drink, keeping the mug down and wiping his mouth. "That reminds me - they're opening a horror attraction based on these cursed pizzerias now. Fazbear's Fright." Scott had read the newspapers earlier that day, and had come across the article. Before he could open his mouth, a sigh came from his right.
"As if the pizzeria wasn't enough," Mike grumbled. He was particularly grouchy today, Scott noticed, but then again, anyone would if they had to deal with the first office for three whole weeks.
Jeremy didn't look surprised, stuffing his face with marshmallows.
"Laugh a bit, kid," Fritz said, making his voice deeper than it was, "it's good for your health."
"Everyone in this room is older than you are, Fritz."
"And yet, I'm the most eccentric."
"I don't think that means what you think it means," he said, looking slightly amused for once. Fritz shrugged because that was true, but he looked pleased for some reason unbeknownst to Mike.
He rolled the dice and ran a hand through his black hair. "Well what do you know, one of my discs made it home."
Jeremy chuckled. "Everyone had one of theirs do that except Fritz." The person mentioned looked offended for a brief second, before folding his arms and grabbing the chocolate bar near the marshmallow plate. "I'll do it, and I'll win."
"You have zilch chances of winning," Mike said, "and Chuck Norris agrees."
Scott cleared his throat. "I heard that Mike was about to get fired once?"
"Oh yeah," he muttered, not sounding affected by the revelation at all, "that was funny. They thought I was the one screwing with the spring lock suits, you know, the ones in the back room that smell like heaven and look like angels on their good days. For some reason, even the animatronics were smelling stranger than usual too. You remember those newspaper clippings back then?" Jeremy tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes widening when he remembered what was being referred to.
"Why didn't they fire you when they had the chance?" Fritz asked.
"No, they did for a bit. Scott was busy with some other stuff, so he didn't know. I got the pink slip and everything."
"Wait, so what did they write on the slip? They can't just write, 'messing with the suits that the general public doesn't know about and still don't', can they?"
"They have common sense in some cases, Fritz," he replied coolly, "and they can't, so they blamed me for manhandling the Fazbear Four. It was apparently my fault that they smelled terrible and had souls possessing 'em."
"Ouch," he said, not sounding very sympathetic about it at all, "and why'd they hire you back?"
"I remember this part," Scott said, snapping his fingers, "they hired him back because I was out of commission and a day shift guard had gone rogue. Why didn't you tell me about this, Mike?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn't relevant."
"But-" Scott cut himself off, sighing. "Never mind." He as well as everyone in the room knew it was useless arguing with Mike once he'd made up his mind on something. He could be about as stubborn as a wall made entirely out of bricks, mortar and trace amounts of steel. "I'm glad Fritz showed up after that, though."
Fritz looked way too smug at that very moment, so Mike decided he needed the pin. "Yeah, and a day after he made his presence known, Chica went berserk." The pride disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"The repair was terrible," Jeremy agreed. "I had these pizza pieces to pull out and a runaway cupcake, and even a chute worth of roaches."
"Hey, but you guys can't blame me completely," Fritz complained, "all I did was slam the door on her feet."
The looks he gained said otherwise, and he groaned.
"That's like saying that touching Freddy's nose is appropriate night guard policy." Jeremy said softly, rolling the dice and placing his second token on the HOME pad proudly.
"Anything involving Freddy is a criminal offense these days," Fritz muttered. "Oh you mishandled his music box? Bad, and he'll kill you for it. You touched his microphone? His eyes glow red. You tried to talk to him through the cameras? He'll remember it for the rest of his existence." He spat out the last bit. "Oh, and the ridiculous top hat? Forget it."
Scott pulled back his hand like he'd touched lava. "He's turned Toreador into a horror theme. I used to love that composition."
"That creepy music he plays is called Toreador?"
"Yeah," he said, "and it's a classic."
"Jeez," Mike shook his head. "Freddy's version sounds like something out of a Scream movie. I think the director would've loved it."
"Stupid bear," Fritz muttered, "the entire franchise is named after him, and he's the least important member of the Four."
Everyone nodded simultaneously, the room going silent once again.
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Scott rolled the dice. It read six.
Scott and Jeremy watched as Fritz and Mike argued over a certain animatronic, or whatever she was.
"JJ has not been sighted on camera for however long I've been in that office," Mike snarled, throwing his hands up. "I'm pretty sure she hangs around the Parts and Service area since that's typically locked."
"Wha- dude, no," Fritz exclaimed, "she's bound to be with BB, y'know, since they're balloon kids. I bet she's near that carousel all night and you're as blind as a bat with six eyepatches."
"No."
"Hell yeah."
"Wanna bet?"
"Sure."
They pooled in the contents of their wallets, which included a moldy five and twenty dollar bill, a button, some loose change and a discount Freddy Fudgebar. It wasn't much to go with, but they decided to trust Jeremy with figuring it out on his shift the next day.
"I can see where this is going," Jeremy mumbled, and Scott laughed.
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"So, we doing this again sometime?" Fritz pulled on his jacket, rubbing his palms together. He looked almost comical with the huge earmuffs he had placed on his head, a funny contrast to his piercings and dyed hair. When he breathed out, his breath fogged up the glass.
As he drew a face on the window, Mike had already stepped out and was walking away, yelling over his shoulder despite the fact that it was two am. "I'm coming if Fritz isn't!"
"Rude," Fritz commented, mock saluting the two and trudging out of the doorway. "I'm bringing cards next time. No more colorful board games."
Jeremy turned to Scott and gave him a grim smile. "Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
The madness began tomorrow, as it was.
(Author's Note)
Guess who's back from the snapping jaws of RL.
This is intended as a loose followup to to my other story 'Pulling the Strings', but it can be read as a standalone. Actually, go read that right now, random person, or else I'll - just kidding.
But it would be nice if you did. Thanks for reading.