It was just eighteen-year-old Xander Harris' luck that his new part-time security guard job came with a dark secret that was probably going to cost him his life. Ah, the cost of living in Sunnydale. The perks of living on a Hellmouth.
"They get a 'little quirky' at night, he said. 'They might mistake you for a metal skeleton without a suit. No big deal', he said." Xander mumbled as he sat in his chair with eyes glued to the computer screen.
He switched to the video feed from the hallway security camera and let out a yelp as he saw a decrepit animatronic pirate fox charging down towards the security office.
Xander slammed his hand against the button to his side and the reinforced steel door slammed down
And sure enough, there was the loud 'CLANG' of Foxy the Pirate Fox impacting against the door.
"Get out of here, Foxy! Old-timey Pirates died out for a reason!" Xander shouted victoriously and let an unhinged laugh of relief.
With a sigh, Xander slumped back down in the security office chair.
He made a mental note to ask for The Slayer's help in burning Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and the damned animatronic mascot horrors within to ashes.
Xander made a disgruntled face as he took a moment to think his predicament over.
On second thought, it occurred to him that it would probably be for the best if he burned the place down himself before the week was over and never spoke of working at Freddy Fazbear's ever again. It would be for the best if people never learned the truth about Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and that Xander Harris worked there.
Lord knew that the pay wasn't worth the five straight nights of terror and peril and the recurring nightmares about Bonnie Bunny.
That was when he heard a loud crash from somewhere in the building. Xander cringed as he recognized the source of the sound. He swore softly as he flipped through the video feeds.
As always, there was a lack of a visual image in the kitchen area due to 'problems with the camera' as management put it. However, Xander could hear unsettling guttural noises alongside the clatter of pots and pans. Chica the Chicken Duck - as Xander refused to believe that particular toothy, robotic monstrosity was fully one-hundred-percent chicken or one-hundred percent duck - was in the kitchen again.
"Fantastic. Just...fantastic. This evening is going swimmingly. This job is just swell." Xander groaned and rubbed his temples.
It was going to be a long night.