Disclaimer: I do not own "Five Nights at Freddy's" or its characters.


Almost there. He was almost there. Just a couple of minutes and he'd be safe…

He started walking slightly faster, hoping to God he would get home fast. The nervous eighteen-year old boy looked over his shoulder to make sure there was no one following him. His green eyes darted from one corner of the street to the other, before his head faced forward again. He swept his hazelnut-colored hair away from his forehead and kept walking.

"I'm gonna make it…" he thought. "I'm gonna make it… I'm gonna – crap…"

"Hi Phil ~"

The boy stopped walking, looking at the group of people that had just blocked his passage with dread. Goddamit, he was so close… Now he was in for it…

Within seconds, he found himself surrounded by a group of the scariest living beings on the planet – girls.

"Um, hi Lindy…" he said awkwardly to the blonde girl that had called him. He looked at her friends, who giggled and winked at him. "Uh… Jessica a-and… Willow, right?"

"Oh, he remembers my name!" the curly-haired girl named Willow swooned, to which her friend Jessica grinned, elbowing her.

How could he forget? She was constantly introducing herself to him with not-so-subtle insinuations. Not that she was the only one. Jessica usually joined her on "harassing" him. But their friend and leader, Lindy, was easily the worst. It wasn't uncommon for her to show up in the most unlikely places to corner him, giving him almost no chance of escape. Why on earth did they act like that? If he was interested, he would show it, but no matter how much he avoided them and tried to tell them that they were, at best, simply class mates and acquaintances, they just wouldn't give up. The same went to other girls in his class, really. It was as if he was some sort of "chick-magnet", like his friends usually said jokingly. He just couldn't go anywhere in school without having some random girl jump him.

Though, if it was up to him, he would have no such "power". He didn't like it one bit – the way they acted, almost made it look like he was a player, charming them for fun. The truth was, however, much different. He would talk with the girls in his class, obviously, but he always treated them in a friendly and respectful manner, not like he was trying to lead them on. Unfortunately the result was having six different girls asking him for the prom right in the beginning of the year, even though he was pretty sure it should be him asking and that it was way too early to worry about that. In the end, he ended up saying "no" to them all in the most polite way he could, hoping they would take the hint – naturally, they just attributed it to him being shy and showed no indication of having given up. By the time the time of the prom rolled by, he just pretended he was sick and didn't go with anyone.

"So, Phil, got any plans tonight?" Jessica asked, wrapping her arms around his.

He looked at her nervously, trying to pull himself away from her surprisingly strong grasp. "I, uh…" Think of an excuse, think of an excuse… "Uhh… I have to… take, um… my sister! To the, um… movies…?"

"Wow, great job, Phil, you're the King of all Flawless Excuses…" a voice grunted in his head.

Lindy laughed. "Oh, are you trying to get away from us?" she asked in a silky voice. "You're so shy! And cute…" she added, touching his face.

Cursing the fact that he was flushing, he tried once again to move away from them. And failed, sadly. "R-right, um, thanks…? B-but I really have to go…"

"But we just got here!" said Jessica. "Why don't you hang out with us later?"

"Oh God, oh God, oh God…"

"Phil, where have you been?"

He looked up, feeling a wave of gratitude as he recognized the voice calling him. His younger sister, a girl with short brown hair and a confident stride in her step walked towards him and the girls that were swarming him.

She looked at the girls with the most disgusted expression she could. "And you? How long are you going to annoy my brother?" she questioned, making them look at her with a slightly shocked expression. No wonder, she was just eleven years old, but was showing no sign of being an easy person to intimidate with such trivialities as age. "He might be too nice to tell you to go away, but I'm not. So read my lips: GO. AWAY. Let's go, Phil."

She seized his hand and pulled him away from his fangirls, who watched him get away from them rather reluctantly. They were, however, unable to say anything to the young girl, obviously shocked at seeing a child display such bravado and confidence.

"You. Are. An idiot," she said, once they were distanced from them.

Phil agreed. "I know, but what was I supposed to say…?"

"'Will you kindly stop harassing me with your overexcited hormones? I have actual life goals that do not involve being mixed up with future providers of sexual favors,'" she replied, in an overly gentleman-like voice that did not suit her. "There, can't be any more polite than that."

The boy chuckled. His sister Patricia was an odd one. People that weren't very familiar with her ways often commented on how she didn't act her age and felt freaked out by her comments. As far as he was concerned, she was just more mature than other girls her age – thought she could be a little too sassy sometimes. Her teachers had made such observations in the past…

"I'll have to remember that one next time…" he said. "At least now school is over and I am, um… safe from them…"

Patricia scoffed. "You talk about them as if they are some sort of villains," she retorted. "They're just girls who are really, really into you."

He rolled his eyes. "They're not into me; they're into how I look. They know nothing about me. B-but it's okay… I'll be off to serve in the army now, so I won't be seeing them anytime soon…"

His sister stopped dead in her tracks. He almost bumped into her, and looked down at her. He couldn't see her face, but he could guess she was frowning. He should have expected it… Ever since he had decided to try out for the army, Patricia had shown her disagreement with such decision rather openly. Even though he didn't agree with violence and thought that it should only be used as a last resort, he wanted to do something that would help others. Despite his pacific nature, he had a strong build, and always did well in tasks that required muscular strength. As such, he considered the military to be his best option if he wanted to do something that would help the country and its people. Patricia didn't approve, partially because she didn't think he would do well, but also because she didn't want to him to be away from her. She grew up used to have her older brother always around her, and since their parents had jobs that forced them to spend nights away from them, it was him who had comforted her as a young child when she got scared of the dark.

"… Are you sure you want to go?" she finally asked, still not turning to face him.

He put his hands in her shoulders and turned her around. She was pouting slightly, which made him smile. "I'm sure, Trish. Don't worry, I'll write every week!"

"Day," she corrected. "I want a full report on anything that those dunderheads make you do."

He chuckled. "Alright, every day. Can I get a hug?" He opened his arms, still smiling.

She complied to his request, but was still pouting. He would miss her. Even though he was the oldest, he believed her to be far more confident and mentally strong than him. She would be alright. He wasn't too sure he would be though…


"Come on, maggots, you call that a work-out?! One hundred more pushups, and I'm being gentle here!"

"Please God, someone kill me…"

Phil looked at the exhausted man next to him with a small grin. "Don't say that out loud now… The sergeant would be happy to comply…"

He received only a groan as response from his partner, who had his face firmly pressed against the floor. Phil chuckled and started doing the one hundred push-ups his superior had ordered.

"Fitzgerald, are you waiting for me to pick you up bridal-style and do the push-ups for you?! Move, soldier!" the sergeant thundered, almost spitting the words at him.

The groaning man quickly pushed against the floor to start his push-ups. "Yes, sir!" Once the sergeant was out of sight, the man named Fitzgerald stuck his tongue at him.

Phil snorted as he went to his twentieth push-up. "Behave, Carl."

"Behaving is for nerds," he grunted. "I hate push-ups… I hate them sooooo freaking much…"

"Just pick up the pace, the quicker you do them, the quicker they end," Phil reasoned, pausing to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "Did you get a letter, yet?"

Carl huffed as he tried to do the push-ups faster. "I'm expecting one today. It's my son's birthday." He smiled. "The little tyke's turning four, and she's sending a photo."

"What's his name again?" Phil asked.

"Jeremy, same as my dad," Carl replied. "And he's very keen of throwing tantrums… same as my dad."

Phil laughed again. "Blame it on genetics."

He went on with the exercise, smiling at the thought of him one day having children of his own. He loved kids. There weren't that many things that made him feel as happy and peaceful as seeing kids having fun and laughing. His new found friend, Carl Fitzgerald, was older than him, already married and with a son. He wanted that life. He was still young though, so he wasn't in a hurry.

It had been four years since he first left to apply to the army, and luckily he had been doing better than he thought. As promised, he sent his family a letter every day in the beginning, but as time rolled by, he was only able to write once a week. The letters he received back were, in general, quite pleasant, showing how well Patricia was doing in school, wishing him the best of luck. Recently, however, the letters were shorter and gave him a bad feeling of his family withholding information for him. Whenever he asked about Patricia, the usual response was always "She's doing okay". Something wasn't right.

"Grayson!"

Phil was startled to hear his sergeant call his name. He was doing the exercise right, what could he be egging him on about?

He turned his head on his direction, and felt his heart drop to the floor. The older man had a serious expression, much different from the one he carried whenever he was about to scold a fellow soldier. Something bad happened.

"S-sir?"

He twitched his head as a way to tell him to come along. Phil quickly got up and walked towards him, seeing Carl look at him worriedly from the corner of his eye. Once he caught up with his superior, he put his hands behind his back in a respectful pose.

"Grayson, we just got a call. It's from your parents," the sergeant explained, making Phil feel even worse. "… Your sister is in the hospital."

Phil gulped. "W-what happened to her? Sir?" he added quickly.

"Something about a gang bang. You should talk with them, son. They're still on the line."

The young soldier took a second to wonder how in the hell did Patricia get involved in a gang bang before sprinting towards the phone.


Phil looked around desperately as he walked down the halls of the hospital. Where were his parents? Where was Patricia? How had any of that happened?

Now he knew why the most recent letters felt rushed and secretive. His parents weren't telling him everything. Not wanting him to get concerned, thinking he should focus on his future in the army, they had been hiding the problems his sister was having in recent years.

Patricia had, somehow, gotten involved with a gang that sold drugs. According to his parents, she had started seeing some guy at school that obviously didn't bring any good news – he was known to be involved with gangs, thefts and all things rotten. She ended up doing drugs as well, and now the gang her boyfriend was part of had gotten into a fight, getting her hurt in the process.

Once he found his parents and the room Patricia was in, he didn't even ask for permission and just walked in. His fifteen-year old sister was lying on her hospital bed, with bandages on her arms and neck. He covered his mouth with his hand and kneeled down next to the bed. How could have things changed so much and turned so bad…?

"… Trish?" he called, weakly.

She looked at him, her eyelids heavy. Once she saw him, she sobbed. "… Phil… sorry…" she muttered, though it was obvious she couldn't talk much.

"Shh, shh, don't talk," he said, sweeping her fringe away from her face comfortingly. "I'm here…"

She sobbed again, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. She nodded and sniffed.

He looked down as he kept caressing her hair. He had abandoned her. Things wouldn't have turned out like this if he had stayed. No matter how his parents said otherwise, it was his responsibility as an older brother to keep her safe. He was not going to abandon her again. If she was now addicted to drugs because of that scum of a boyfriend, he was going to help her. It didn't matter if he had to quit the army to stay there and support her, he would do it. He would help her get away from it all.

And he would find out who that boyfriend of hers was and show him exactly what he thought of him. This was no time to be a pacifist.


"Dear Phil,

I miss your cooking. The cooks of this place must have gotten their experience at a dumpster. The other people staying here are so annoying. Most don't want to stay here, and keep whining and finding ways to try and get away.

But I am not going to quit. I've been clean for a whole day. I know it might not seem much to other people, but I know you'll be happy. To me this is already a win. It's hard, but I'm trying to focus on other things. Thanks for the books you sent me, I needed a distraction, and these mystery novels really get me pumped.

I'm sorry for everything. I know you really liked the whole 'army-scene', and you had to quit everything because of me… I hope you can find a good job soon. They'll be lucky to have you.

Thank you for everything, you're the best.

Love you,

Patricia.

P.S. – You better find yourself a wife and get her pregnant soon. I want nephews."

Phil chuckled lightly as he read the letter. It seemed his sister was doing better.

The first few days she spent in the rehabilitation center were horrible. She fought and struggled and bothered everyone, punching the first doctor that put his hands on her, trying to calm her down. It took a lot of conversations and him finally snapping at her to make her realize the seriousness of her situation. Being deprived of drugs had been obviously hard on her, and the first few letters she had sent him showed that she was not coping with it. They felt like rambles from a lunatic.

Now she was doing better. Knowing she had managed to stay clean for a whole day was indeed something to be proud of. As he re-read the letter, he sighed once he got the part where she apologized for him quitting the army. It had to be done. He didn't hold it against anyone asides from himself. Luckily, his superiors had been pleased with how he did and promised to give a good word for him in case he applied for a job that involved enforcing security of some sort.

And now it was time to collect.

He glanced at the newspaper that was on the table. The page that was on display showed a photo of some animatronic brown bear smiling at the photo. The robot felt familiar, though he couldn't pin down where he had seen it before. The text next to the photo showed that a pizzeria called "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" was due to open in the neighborhood, and they were in need of security.

Phil took a sip of his coffee and picked up the phone. The place was in need of a head of security, and was destined for kids. Seemed like a perfect job for him – a golden opportunity.


[A/N - Hello there! :D This is a flashback arc (as you may have noticed) that will explain Phone Guy's background and POV on the story. The events obviously take place before "The Night Shift", and will help explain some things... probably.]