Five Nights at Freddy's
Author's Note: So I've recently gotten into Five Night's at Freddy's and I enjoy the lore behind it. After some contemplation, I was able to come up with a "movie idea". Imagine how it would be played out if this game series ever had a movie made! I doubt highly it would be like my crappy writing, but here goes. LOL. Also, given the game's sensitive backstory and disturbing elements, read cautiously.
This was written specifically for my cousin - a huge fan of the series.
Read and review if you'd like!
By: VampireQueenAkasha
~O~
"Terror made me cruel . . ."
― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Part One
"Why...?"
Only the soft, desolate sobs of the eight year old boy could be heard in the small storage room. He was huddled close to a dismantled animatronic; something with purple faux fur and disturbing rows of flat teeth. It was Bonnie.
Somehow they always terrified him. Their blank, silver eyes... Those perpetual grins...
The sounds of heavy footsteps heightened the frightened boy's fear and he attempted to take cover beneath the animatronic's torso, just as the door's knob slowly turned. The boy struggled to calm his breath, tears trickling down his cheeks.
"Please..." he mumbled.
Sitting on a shelf was a sock-monkey style puppet with a white face, black hollow eyes; it looked like a Pierrot, with rosy red cheeks, purple stripes that stretch from the bottom of its eyes to the top of its mouth, and red lipstick painted on in an exaggerated pucker.
Bonnie was suddenly pulled aside by a gold-covered hand and the boy looked up with tear, streaked eyes. His agonized scream echoed into the night.
All that remained was the puppet; and a soft, forlorn whisper.
Why...
O
It was a particularly cold morning.
Nineteen year old Emily was leaning against the van with a cigarette in hand, waiting for her other four friends to buy them early morning breakfast at the gas station store. She occasionally glanced down at her watch impatiently.
She pulled out her cell phone and flipped through a few photos of her and her boyfriend; one of the other teenagers accompanying her on the trip.
She sighed with disappointment.
A message had been saved on her phone and she opened it up.
GOOD MORNING. I HOPE YOU MADE IT SAFE. PLEASE CALL ME BACK WHEN YOU GET THE CHANCE.
A text from her mother.
Emily shut off her phone. Given how she was dealing with her family issues right now, talking with her mother wasn't really on top of her list.
A golden paw suddenly reached for her from the side and when it touched her shoulder, she jumped with a yelp and her fright was immediately replaced with annoyance.
The laughter from her friend eighteen year old Andy holding a Freddy Fazbear paw on a stick was the source of her irritation. He grinned and dodged a slap of her hand.
"Jesus, Andy!" she snapped, bending down to retrieve her phone; she had dropped it onto the ground. "What are you, six years old?" She gave her phone a few wipes of her hand. "You're lucky it's not cracked. I just bought this phone a week ago."
Andy continued to laugh. "Come on, Emily. It's just a back-scratcher!"
Emily's eyes fell on his purchase. "Where'd you even get that?"
Andy shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to the store. "They have this whole table of Fazbear stuff in there."
Emily made a face, studying the back-scratcher.
The Fazbear Pizzeria was the source of their interest and the whole point of their long trip. It was where several children had disappeared and were supposedly killed. Many stories had been made up about it over the years.
Mainly, legend had it that strange occurrence took place in the mall where the pizzeria had been located. Anyone who ever visited were believed to vanish without a trace.
Mark wanted to be one of the first to document their trip. He had been rather adamant about going. Emily had been Mark's girlfriend for a long time, but because of his obsession with the pizza place, it had put a strain on their relationship.
Emily rolled her eyes with a sigh and snatched the back-scratcher from Andy's hands. The teenager stared at her in protest.
"Dude, I paid ten bucks for that!" he protested, snatching it back.
"Ten bucks? I should hit you for spending that much on a stupid back-scratcher!" Emily snapped. She paused, considered that before smacking him over the head with it.
"Ow!"
Emily handed back the item before leaning against the van again. She gave Andy a look. "I thought you were getting us coffee."
"That's a Dean job, dude."
"Well, being an asshole just made it an 'Andy job'."
Inside the store, the other three teenagers were picking up necessities for their trip. Dean - a younger boy who controlled a video camera walked through the store. The other two teenagers, Amy and Mark were talking with the store clerk.
Mark was what Dean would describe as the leading mind behind their trip to the town. He had been inspired by a real tragedy of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaria. And as Mark often was, he sought to explore the unknown.
Dean was just dragged along for the ride - and his equipment. He didn't believe that tragedies should have been dug back up in this way. But in a sense, his curiosity was something he could no resist.
"Yo."
The camera turned, focusing on Andy.
"Emily told me to get coffee." Andy said, peering over the shelves briefly. "You seen Mark or Amy?"
Dean cleared his throat. "They're talking to the cashier guy up front." He paused somewhat. "So why did Emily ask you to do it? I thought she asked me."
Andy snorted, attempting to be nonchalant. "Yeah? Well maybe she thought you wouldn't do it right."
"Whatever, man..."
Andy looked down and smirked, picking up a bag of candy and holding it in front of Dean's camera.
"Dude, they got Gummy Fazbears." he said.
The candy bag was colorful and bright; each caricature on the bag looked adorable, but Dean wasn't really convinced.
"I thought you said Fazbear's Pizza was lame."
Andy rolled his eyes. "It IS lame. But the merch you can sell on eBay isn't. That's why I'm all in on this trip."
Dean sighed and wandered up a chip aisle, randomly stopping and whistling the tune from a Fisher Price Music Box Clock. His mother had often played it for him while he tried to sleep. It was a pleasant melody for when he was a baby.
He stopped at a row of chips and picked up Sour Cream and Onion. Dean turned the camera to focus on his smirking face.
"Best chips in the world..." he said, quietly.
"...listen, I told you I don't want to talk about any of that."
The camera focused on the cashier and his name tag, which read "Vincent". The clerk noticed the camera pointed at him and his frown intensified.
"Why is there a camera?" he asked. "I don't give you permission to film me."
Mark glanced toward Dean and gestured for him to lower it. Dean shrugged with a sigh and did as he said. It wasn't like this guy was the first one to tell them they couldn't film or ask questions.
"Sir, we've heard about the Legend of Fazbear's Pizza and - "
Vincent sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh. So you guys are just doing the same thing everyone else was doing." he snapped. "Listen, I suggest you go back where you drove down here from and just forget about that legend. We have enough problems as is."
"What do you mean, sir?" Mark asked.
A customer - and elderly woman - was standing by the cooler doors and looked at them with interest.
"Because of the murders and disappearances, we have tourists who come running through our town, making trouble with the locals."
"I thought tourism was good for small town businesses like this."
The customer approached them and tapped Dean on the shoulder. "Excuse me." she said. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I understand you're interested about this town."
Mark and Amy smiled at each other and nodded. Well, this was a pleasant turn.
"Yeah, we are." Mark replied. "Could you give us some information about Fazbear's Pizza and what went down? Maybe from your own perspective?"
The old woman's features wrinkled in a look of sadness. "Well, Vincent here - " She gestured to the clerk with a flick of her wrist, " - He is right about what happened. It brought a lot of tourism. Although, personally, I think it's inappropriate."
Amy frowned. "What is?"
"Making profit off of the deaths of those kids." the old woman answered, scowling as if she had tasted something horrible.
"So it really happened?" Dean asked. He seemed happy to hear that the legend had some credence.
"Oh, yes, of course it did. But there wasn't a single trace of evidence to track down the one responsible."
While they were talking, Vincent remained behind the counter with a magazine in hand, bored with the conversation. He scratched at a scar on his wrist absently.
"...it just doesn't seem right..." the old woman finished, disgust in her voice.
"But you think the increase in tourism has helped the town financially in some way?" Mark asked her.
She sighed, but seemed to agree with that. "It has, I can't lie about that much. I own a small produce stand in town and tourists do stop by." She shook her head. "I don't know, though; I still say profiting off of murdered children seems wrong."
Mark and Amy looked at each other briefly. In a sense, it was. But if tourism did help this small town, there was a small manner of benefit.
"I'm just glad they plan on demolishing that mall," the old woman muttered, passing them out the door.
She didn't catch the surprised looks on the faces of the three teenagers.
"Sorry, kids; I'm already late," she called back, with one parting glance. "Just take your mind off of that whole thing and leave town while you can."
After she left, the camera recorded her going into an old, run-down station wagon.
"I didn't think they still made those." Dean remarked.
"What was she saying, though?" Amy asked, quietly to Mark. "Are they really going to tear that mall down?"
Mark nodded with a disappointed sigh. "Yeah."
The camera was still pointed at him and Dean made a cautious sound.
"Mark, what are you thinking?" he asked.
O
A flicker of static.
Dean was talking with a person who lived in the town, trying to get a good interview with him. He was an older man who worked in a grocery store as a manager.
"So what's your perspective on the whole thing?" Dean asked.
The man stared at the camera briefly before he gave a sigh. "A lot of people want to forget about it."
"Have you heard about the Fazbear Snatcher?" Dean asked. "Some people around here seem to be calling him that."
The man made a face. "Yeah. I did. Some people seem to call him that."
"Do you think the mall is haunted?"
"Nah. I don't believe in that crap." the man said. "Only thing in that mall is just memories. Memories and bad dreams."
Another interview with an older woman, who seemed unhappy about telling her version of the story.
"Fazbear owned the restaurant." she said. "One day he came into my shop and he told me 'I'm done. I can't do this anymore, Margie'." She laughed sadly. "What did he mean? Well, nobody really knew. Not at first."
"Do you think he felt guilt?" Dean asked.
The woman nodded. "Probably. I mean, it was HIS restaurant where it all happened." she said. She finally sighed and looked away before continuing. "He went missing for a few days afterwards. So the police went to his house and found him."
"What did they find?"
"Well...he hung himself." she answered. "It was just terrible, it upset everyone. He said in a note he'd left that he couldn't take 'the voices talking to him'. He said that the kids blamed him for what happened."
Dean was silent before he continued. "So do you believe in ghosts?"
She nodded. "Oh, definitely."
O
Dean, Amy and Mark walked back to the van with coffee and snacks.
"We're behind schedule, but we all need to eat something before we go." Mark told the others.
"This is crazy..." Dean muttered under his breath. "No one listens to me. 'We shouldn't go here', I said. No, let's just...go in the creepy ass abandoned mall they're going to tear down in a few days. Is there a special extension at the mental hospital for that...?"
Andy was digging into a bag of Doritos while Dean opened up the van's side door to check on his inventory of cameras, radios, recording devices and microphones.
"Alright, now my mom doesn't know I brought this stuff with me," Dean told them. "So we need to be extra careful, okay? We may have enough battery power to run a country, but my mom isn't going to like it when I tell her something happens."
Mark nodded his head. Then, realization lit his face. "You didn't tell her?"
"No. Did you think my mom would let me go on this trip if she knew where we were going?"
Andy laughed between chews of his chips. "Dude, you're sixteen, man." he said, spitting chips down his shirt. "You still do what mommy says?"
Dean flipped him off.
"Andy, don't be mean." Amy scolded. She made a face and swatted some crumbs off of his shirt. "And clean your shirt..."
Mark seemed far more willing to hear Dean out as the other teenager rooted through his equipment to make sure he had everything there.
"Hey, so is all of this stuff really going to help us?" he asked, evenly.
Dean nodded. "I hope so."
Andy made false ghostly moans and waved his hands in the air. "You can do your weird Ouija board crap too!"
Dean sighed. It was too early for this. "It's not crap, Andy. My mother's a medium. She does this stuff all the time."
Mark patted his shoulder with a smile. "Which is why you're with us." He looked at Andy with dismay. "Just chill with him, alright? We're all together in this trip."
Andy rolled his eyes, raising two hands in defense. "Fine. Whatever."
Dean's mother worked a side job as a medium for the town they had come from. She sold equipment like this in the store. But she also strongly believed that spirits should never be tampered with or angered.
This was a harmless trip, though. And Dean had hoped they would be led on by a false legend and nothing more. Still, there was a small part of him that couldn't resist his curiosity. Morbid, perhaps.
"Alright, guys..." Mark said, gesturing to the van. "Let's hurry to the mall. We want to get as much footage as we can before the mall's torn down."
"How long do you think we have?" Amy asked.
"I don't know. But the sooner we get there, the better."
O
The camera switched on.
Mark was standing on a cliff-side overlooking the town.
Andy started imitating the opening music for the Lion King and Mark looked back at him skeptically.
Andy laughed. "Do you see the mall?"
"Yeah." Mark said, peering below. "Just a few miles."
The camera cut out, but briefly flickered the words "IT'S ME" across the lens. Andy grunted with annoyance and stared down at the lens, but saw no words this time. He tilted it around in his hands for study before looking over his shoulder.
"What the hell..." he snapped. "Yo, Dean! Your camera sucks!"
Dean was sitting on the bumper of the van before he rolled his eyes. Andy pointed the camera towards Amy, who was squatting behind some tall grass.
"That isn't Fazbear, you guys. That's Amy pissing." he joked, giggling.
Amy looked up, sensing the camera on her and scowled. "Andy, I'm going to kill you!" she shouted.
Andy cackled.
The camera filtered static for a few moments before Amy insisted that he erase what he was recording.
"It wasn't recording, I swear!"
"You're lying!" Amy looked over at Dean. "Dean! Erase it!"
Dean scoffed and took the camera from Andy's hands. "Alright, I'm confiscating this until you can all learn to respect technology."
O
Dean stared down into the camera, shaking his head with dismay. He focused it on Emily and Mark, who were talking in private near the van.
"...this is crazy, Mark. You know that..." Emily whispered.
"It's not crazy. I told you I wanted to do this." Mark argued.
"Mark, this is a little obsessive, don't you think? I mean we're in hick county with Andy." Emily protested.
Amy put a hand on Dean's shoulder, making him lose focus on the other two. "You shouldn't be listening." she advised.
Dean watched as she leaned against the wall of the hotel they had parked in. "So...are they still fighting?" he asked, quietly.
Amy sighed through her nose. "Yeah."
Dean glanced over toward Andy, who was talking with someone for directions. "You and Andy, then?"
Amy smiled a little. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I mean... Andy doesn't..." Dean tried to speak appropriately on the matter. "I mean, you seem like too smart a girl for him."
Amy laughed softly. "Andy's a sweetheart when he wants to be."
"When does he want to be?"
O
Dean was looking down at the map, recording the entire time. There was a few places of interest he had circled, but the mall was starred and labeled. Mark was driving and Emily was in the passenger side.
Dean looked up at them before he shook his head in the camera, mouthing "drama" under his breath.
"So is this place going to be guarded?" Andy asked.
"Probably. I imagine they had a lot of people trying to get in." Mark said.
Dean was quiet for a moment, contemplating his words before he spoke. "Do you think that old lady was right about leaving?"
A sigh from the others.
"What?" Dean protested quietly. "I'm just saying, you know? I've seen a lot of horror movies that start out like this. And usually guys like me are the first to go."
"Yeah, and I already told you to stop watching them." Emily quipped from the front seat. "You have this nervous thing as it is."
"I do not have a 'nervous thing'..."
"You do. It's like a panic attack. Only...crazier."
Dean let out a sigh. "Yeah, okay. Whatever."
He sat back in his seat and said nothing more. But Andy reached out with the Fazbear backscratcher and tapped at his ear. Dean rolled his eyes and turned the recording camera to his face.
"Mom, if you find this..." he whispered surreptitiously, "I probably died. And with the one person I really don't want to die with."
He closed his eyes, making a face when Andy brought the back-scratcher up to one of his nostrils. The other teenager giggled and Dean simply shut the camera off.
O
Dean was dreaming.
He'd fallen asleep in the back of the van with the map over his face.
He found himself back stage at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. From his perspective, he could see himself staring through several eye-holes of what he thought was a costume.
"Alright, the kids are waiting for you!" a man's voice said.
Dean tried to look around for whoever spoke, but the mask prevented him from seeing nothing more than a blue uniform and badge.
So he wandered from the back of the stage out into the play room, where five children were sitting on a bright, colorful floor cheering for him. The room itself was filled with decorations, cake and presents.
It was such a nice sight. It reminded the teenager of his childhood.
"Foxy!" they chanted. "Foxy!"
Dean smiled behind his mask. It was the first time he'd felt actually wanted and popular like this.
The dream seemed to flicker like an old television screen and Dean found himself back stage again. Confused, he listened as a man's voice spoke the same message again.
"Alright, the kids are waiting for you!"
Dean moved forward and once more, he parted the curtains and found the five happy children still cheering for him.
And again, he saw the flicker across his field of vision and he heard the man speak the same message.
"Alright, the kids are waiting for you!"
But this time, he saw a man standing near the stage. A man wearing a purple uniform with a badge. He didn't see his face as the mask prevented that.
Dean was confused, but pushed the curtains aside.
There was no cheering and instead, Dean saw the five children lying dead on the floor. Blood had been streaked across the walls, the decorations were sprayed with crimson.
Dean awoke from his dream with a startled gasp and Andy was leaning down to him.
"Dude, wake up." he ordered. "We're here."
It was almost dark when they arrived at the fenced-in mall. Mark parked the van in the woods nearby, covering it with a tarp. Dean was a little disoriented and shaken by his dream. This didn't go unnoticed by Emily.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, staring at him with concern.
Dean nodded numbly. "Yeah. I'm fine..."
Once that was done, the teenagers approached the chain-link fence and peered around the abandoned lot. Dean carried a bag with only the necessary equipment they could use to record vioces and film.
"Dude, do you see the guards?" Andy whispered.
Amy shook her head, but her eyes widened and she quickly ducked. "I saw them!" she hissed, "Get down!"
The five teenagers ducked to the ground as a patrolling car drove by with two security guards. They waited until the car circled around the mall before lifting their heads.
"Mark, are you sure this is a good idea?" Dean whispered.
Mark nodded. "We can get inside, so long as we stay low and keep quiet." He looked at Andy skeptically as he said this. "Come on."
"I'm just saying. I won't survive in prison..." Dean muttered, grunting as he struggled through the fence. "I mean, you probably would but I'm the kind of guy they'd use as 'comfort food' you know?"
"Dean, shut up!" Andy hissed.
The group quickly squeezed through the fence and sprinted across the parking lot toward the mall. They stopped at a set of double doors and Andy tried to open them.
"Oh, really, Andy?" Emily quipped.
"Shut up!" Andy snapped.
Amy rolled her eyes and pushed them aside. "Move. I got this."
She turned, drew back her leg and kicked the window of the lower left door with her heeled boot. The glass shattered and the group immediately covered their ears.
"Well I could have done that!" Andy hissed.
"Do you think they heard that?" Mark asked, concerned. He glanced back over his shoulder briefly.
"Let's get inside before they come looking!" Emily whispered. "Go!"
They crawled through the shattered window and Dean was the last one through. Before he could join the others, he pushed a discarded box up against the broken window. The group stared at him in confusion and he shrugged.
"What? Just in case." he said.
They saw no point in argument, so nodded in a collection of agreement.
Taking turns reaching into their coats, they removed flashlights and switched them on.
The mall was enormous on the inside; most of the shops had been boarded up, some chained down and others filled with junk and debris. Possibly from squatters or just people who owned the shops who never returned for their belongings.
"Wow, check it out," Andy said, "This place had a KB Toys!"
He shined a flashlight on an old store with the logo in question overhead. A grin broke out on his face.
"And Radio Shack?" Mark quipped, focusing his flashlight on another shop. "Wow. This is serious old school."
Amy turned her attention toward a generator sitting near the broken-down escalator. Attached to it was a work-light stand.
"Hey, look at this," she said. "Could we turn this on, maybe? Get some light in here a little?"
Mark frowned and walked up to the generator, studying it. "Hm, maybe. I don't know, though. My dad has a generator like this and it makes a lot of noise."
"Hey, guys!"
They looked over and spotted Andy standing just atop the broken escalator. He was looking toward something with a broad grin on his face.
"I found it!" he announced.
The group walked up the escalator and looked toward the source of his interest:
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.
The five teenagers approached the boarded up pizzeria, read the sign with images of the grinning animatronics.
"I don't know, this place seems a bit creepy for kids." Emily said. She read the sign out loud. " ' Where fantasy and fun come to life'?" She gave a scoff and grimaced. "Yeah, sure..."
Dean was reading the spray-painted message scrawled on the boards. Someone had written "Abandon Hope" in red paint. He furrowed his brow with concern and rested his hand against the boards.
"Someone's been reading too much Dante, man." Andy remarked.
Amy looked at him, feigning shock. "I'm amazed you know what that is."
"I read it in English too, you know..."
"Which you failed, as I recall."
"Yeah, how do you fail at English, anyway?" Emily teased, laughing.
Dean tilted his head at the message, ignoring the banter between the three. His head began to ring and he closed his eyes, wincing at the pain.
"...Okay, so we can probably just take these off with something..." Mark was now talking about how to get the boards off of the pizzeria's windows.
"I think... Hey, look, could this work?"
"Sure! Let's just take it off together."
Dean shut his eyes, catching a flash of something in his head that made him recoil.
A flash of screams.
Another flash of maniacal cackling.
Animatronics tearing viciously through something.
He recoiled with a soft gasp, nearly dropping his camera in the process. Mark looked over at him; they had taken off a piece of the board with a metal pipe and were ready to head inside the restaurant.
"Hey, Dean!" he said, "You coming?"
Dean nodded, struggling to calm himself. "Y-Yeah, I am."
The five wandered into the restaurant.
No...