Rating: T for mild adult themes, implied peril to a child, mild swearing
Setting: Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, 1983, prior to the MCI
Summary: A latchkey kid who regularly retreats to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza after school, Cassidy cons her way into a free cup of arcade tokens. She promptly gets into mischief with her new plastic treasure from the Prize Counter, yet unwittingly thwarts some sinister plans.
Author's Note: This is based on the upcoming book series involving stories set in the FNaF game universe; the first two books will be released Dec. 26 and March 3. The story below is the author's second effort for a fanfiction version of this anthology.
Five Nights at Freddy's and all canon characters, settings, etc. are the property of Scott Cawthon.
You are free to use any original concepts, headcanons and characters from this fanfiction in your own work (fanfiction, art, etc.) if you'd like.
Views expressed in this fanfiction do not necessarily match the writer's.
"Hey, kid." William Afton's gruff voice rose among the din of a few dozen arcade games and pinball tables, all seemingly attempting to drown each other out with electronic bleeps and buzzers. The subject of his attention looked up in startlement from her place alone at a table where she had been paging through a comic book, and, Cassidy had thought, minding her own business and not disturbing anyone.
"This isn't the first time I've seen you here alone, not buying anything. I'm hardly running a free babysitting service, so either feed a few quarters into the machines or order some food or...beat it." The portly business owner poked a thumb in the direction of the exit door, emphasizing the ultimatum he'd just issued.
"Lay off, Will." Cassidy was stunned to find a paper plate laden with two pizza slices set down on the table before her, and she looked up in time to catch a sly wink from the young woman who worked at the arcade's prize counter. "Today she's a paying customer just as much as the next kid, and the kitchen's completely overwhelmed so her order only now arrived." Turning her attention back to her surprised "customer," Cindy busied herself with supplying shakers full of grated cheese and pepper flakes and issuing an unneeded warning that the food might be hot.
Though Cassidy hardly knew her well despite her frequent patronage of the pizzeria, Cindy was one of the few adults the grade-schooler remotely trusted. Not only did she display an enviously devil-may-care attitude, she had just proven to hold even less respect for authority than previously demonstrated by venturing into certifiably fresh territory with her boss. Unable to face down Will, who remained frozen in position with a disgruntled look spread across his wide face, Cassidy hurriedly took a bite of her pizza. It was bedecked with mushrooms and green peppers, two ingredients she could take or leave, and she didn't have the money in her backpack to pay for it. Yet Cindy clearly expected her to keep up the ruse and at any rate, a free meal was a free meal. It wasn't like anyone could demand it back once she'd bitten into it or downright devoured it.
"Besides, she's my cousin, part of the family, so you can't throw her out." Cindy fixed her gaze on Will, her chin upraised defiantly so the large hoops dangling from her ears caught the glint of the overhead lights, their sparkle matching the determination in her eyes.
I wish, Cassidy thought wistfully. She would consider herself lucky if she would wind up half as self-assured and cool in a dozen more years, or however much older the prize counter worker might be. To the ten-year-old, adults only seemed to come in a few age ranges: overgrown teenagers, middle-aged parents, and elderly. She didn't feel she could claim much in common with Cindy and couldn't begin to imagine being a relation.
"Is that so?" interjected Will with a self-satisfied smirk, finally regaining his wits. "Last week your pal Clyde told me she was his cousin, so you two had better work that one out since he has the hots for you."
"Not in front of the kids, please, and I prefer keeping my career and my love life separate, thank you very much." Ever unflappable, Cindy waggled her glitter-covered fingers at Will like she was shooing off a pesky fly, and after a moment he huffed in defeat and shuffled away heavily.
"That was bold," Cassidy finally said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "And thanks for the pizza, but I can't pay you for it." She sighed, watching the steam rise up from the slices on her plate. "That was your lunch, wasn't it? I can't believe you gave it up."
"I can, and think nothing of it," Cindy answered cheerfully. "When that's been your meal for the past four years straight, pizza starts getting old, and it was worth it seeing Afton with his undies in a knot over it." The girl almost spit out her mouthful of dough and cheese when the image of that entered her mind, and soon a cup of soda arrived in front of her, which she sipped gratefully. While she took Cindy's word for it, she found it hard to imagine growing tired of actually knowing where your next meal was coming from, when it would arrive, and whether it would be enough. If that small measure of security was one of the perks of adulthood and steady employment, she could hardly wait.
"Cindy!" cried a breathless voice from someone rushing across the dining area, now that the coast was clear. By the time he had dodged a half-dozen children, all bouncing off furniture and playground equipment like a bevvy of super-charged pinballs, Clyde slid to an abrupt stop by the table. "That was badass," he said in admiration, his face still flushed from the exertion of seeing his crush face down their acerbic boss.
"Watch your mouth in front of your cousin," Cindy warned him, winking to let him know all was okay, and Clyde threw up his hands, one still holding a scrub bucket, in defeat.
"Alright, you got me, but the day I stand around and watch that cheapskate kick out kids is the day I'll hang up my..." Clyde removed the tattered ball cap that had been issued as part of his work uniform upon his hire years before, when the establishment had been a family diner instead of the raucous arcade and indoor playland it had since grown into. Initially taken on as a dish washer, he had worked every imaginable job in the pizzeria since at Will's beckoning. "Uh, my janitor's hat, I guess it is for today at least. Sorry, I've gotta hustle over to the jungle gym. Some kid puked up some meat lover's pizza right in the middle of the thing, and lucky me gets to crawl through those tubes, mop it up and worm my way back out of there. I don't suppose you have gas masks behind the prize counter?"
Cindy shook her head, trying not to laugh. Though she hardly envied the menial task Clyde had been assigned to, his self-deprecating humor over it at least gave her the briefest glimpse of who he had once been. Back when the two long-time coworkers had first been hired at the old diner, Clyde's ever-present smile had been natural and unforced. He had scarcely been able to contain his youthful enthusiasm for the cast of animatronic characters populating the restaurant and its high-energy atmosphere, as though he fed off the very joy emitted by the young patrons.
Now, Cindy thought, eyeing Clyde's careworn face, he didn't look as though he fed off of much of anything, and although his grin had never faded, once one got to know him, it came across as little more than something he put on everyday, like the rest of his uniform. It was a requirement and expected of him, and forever loyal to a fault when it came to all things Fazbear Entertainment, he wore it without question, if with little true enthusiasm.
"Besides, the last time a kid got thrown out of here, it didn't work out so well," Clyde said darkly, his weary eyes cast away from Cindy's, and she nodded grimly, acknowledging the terrible event outside the diner that had stolen any last vestiges of youthful innocence either worker might have been clinging to.
Charlie. The daughter of Henry, Will's business partner, had been beloved by not only her father but by everyone who had soon come to regard her as the restaurant's unofficial mascot. By her preschool years, Charlie had routinely accompanied Henry to work, socializing with other children in what must have seemed like a dreamland come to life for a small child, something no babysitter or daycare could possibly compete with. Yet late one night, the dreamland had devolved into a hellish nightmare, with Charlie's playmates turning on her. In the aftermath, no one knew what had drawn her to stray outside the restaurant and into a dark alleyway behind the building, and when she had second thoughts and reappeared at the rain-streaked window, begging to be let inside, the children had assumed her panic was part of a joke and taunted her through the glass.
She had never made it back indoors, and Clyde irrationally blamed himself just as much as Cindy did. Never mind that he had been assigned to work in the kitchen that fateful night, out of sight of the play area, and she had been just as far off in the arcade, counting prize tickets and handing out cheap plastic trinkets. None of that mattered because they had both loved Charlie as much as if she were their own child.
Maybe, Cindy mused now, the loss that had cut impossibly deep and had forever deadened the spark in Clyde had given way to their shared soft spot for spirited children who seemed a little lost, like the girl seated before them now.
"Yeah, we don't need a repeat of that," Cindy agreed, shuddering and rubbing her arms in a rare display of vulnerability, to ward off the chill that had suddenly overcome her. Never again, she vowed silently, feeling more protective than ever of her latest charge.
"Sorry, I have a hard time letting that go as much as I try, but don't we all." Clyde looked down at the ball cap in his hands, which he had been twisting absentmindedly during their awkward conversation. "Well, the upchuck awaits, so see you on the flipside!"
Once he had carried off the bucket in the direction of the jungle gym, Cassidy piped up, grinning and unaware of the significance of the heavy exchange she'd witnessed.
"He's a goofball," she remarked with admiration before changing the subject. "So, are you a punk rocker or something? You look like Cyndi Lauper."
"Nope, I spell my first name with a 'y.' I'll take that as a compliment, though Clyde tells me I look more like Boy George," Cindy said, eliciting laughter from the girl. She ran a hand through her crimped hair, brushing against a swarm of plastic butterfly clips, their wings bobbling comically on tiny hinges. "One day I tried on a bracelet from the prize counter and somehow it ended up like this," she joked, gesturing to the array of necklaces and bracelets strung around her neck and both wrists, all done up in gaudy colors and bristling with plastic charms.
"If you can keep a secret, every time the Prize Counter gets a new shipment of gee-gaws, I add a few to my arsenal just because it cheeses Mister Afton off so badly." This made Cassidy laugh at the sheer absurdity of the pizzeria owner growing irritated over something as trivial as a worker's overdone jewelry. Peering over her shoulder, she caught sight of Will casting a stormy gaze their way, though he quickly diverted his eyes when they met hers.
"That old buzzard's been watching us the whole time," Cindy confirmed in a low voice. "Don't fret over it, though, it's more to make sure I don't take any more pizza for myself now that I gave away my employee rations." She leaned in conspiratorially. "If there's one thing he can't stand, it's giving something away for free, and he's extra-cranky because it's report card time and we here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza believe in rewarding good grades with complimentary tokens. Or at least Mister Henry does," she finished, referring to Will's far more gentle and good-natured counterpart. Although Henry continuously paced the pizzeria with concern etched across his face, as though the entire place might collapse into complete mayhem at any given moment, Cassidy had never so much as heard him raise his voice against any of the young patrons, and he certainly wouldn't have confronted her as coldly as Will had earlier.
"That reminds me, you ought to cash in your report card," advised Cindy. "The free offer's only good for this weekend, which would explain why this joint is teeming with the elementary-school crowd." The girl surprised her by looking sharply away, seemingly rejecting the giveaway.
"I-I never got one," Cassidy mumbled, snatching up the comic book in one hand and feigning deep interest in the brightly colored, action-packed panels while finishing the last of her pizza.
"C'mon, surely your teacher didn't forget," Cindy prodded. "Clyde's sister's in your class and she already got her tokens. In fact, all of the Miller clan is here today, as far as I can tell." Chuckling, she scanned the jungle gym, noting that nearly every third kid bore a vague resemblance to her coworker.
A girl with her hair in loose pigtails that were tugging free from their elastic bands paused at the foot of the sliding board, waving in recognition when she spotted her classmate. Sadie was alright, Cassidy had to admit. At school, she was a fellow "free lunch kid" who waited patiently every morning in a long line for the paper ticket that would grant her a cafeteria tray of food on the house. Cassidy had also taken notice that, like herself, Sadie never left any food on her tray. While she'd figured that having eight siblings would qualify anyone to become a free lunch kid, Cassidy wondered if food was sometimes scarce at the Miller household, just as it was at hers. She had never had the audacity to ask, though, fearing Sadie might be offended, and so she guarded their shared secret as if it bonded their friendship.
"I'm just sayin', three tokens for an 'A' and two for each 'B,'" Cindy interrupted her thoughts, upping the ante. Setting down her comic book, Cassidy's hand strayed to the zipper pull of her backpack, fishing into the bag's depths and retrieving a crumpled and folded stiff sheet of paper that she presented to Cindy with a lackadaisical shrug.
"Er, this is all 'C's' and 'D's,'" Cindy said, uncharacteristically taken aback and getting an equally uncharacteristic and defiant you said you wanted to see it in return. "I'm not sure we can give you anything for that." She felt it best to not even mention the handwritten note at the bottom of the page about various misbehavioral infractions in school, and diverted her eyes from the inked words, for it felt intrusive to even read them.
"Yeah? Well, you're rewarding the wrong kids!" the girl blurted out, her hands on her hips. In all her ten years, Cassidy had never been quite so fresh with an adult, but Cindy seemed like the safest grown-up to test out her newfound sassiness on.
"How so?" she asked evenly, and Cassidy went on, relieved Cindy hadn't mocked her for poor grades. For all she knew, maybe she hadn't pulled straight A's every term herself.
"All these smart kids?" Cassidy gestured around the room, indicating the pizzeria's overcrowded arcade floor. "You're gonna see 'em in here next report card time and probably not a single day in between. It's kids like me who have lousy grades because we're in here every night, spending all our time and allowance playing arcade games instead of doing homework or studying."
Cindy's jaw dropped, then as if in a trance, she reached for the plastic cups stacked neatly on the counter, dipped one into the open bin of glittering tokens and slid it across the counter to the equally astonished child.
"Well played, and you got me," she admitted, finally breaking into a wide grin. "I can't begin to argue with that logic, except for the part where you implied you weren't a smart kid. You just proved you're wicked clever, and the minute you apply that in school," she let out a low chortle, "look out, world!"
To be continued...