The heat of the summer was almost unbearable, somehow getting hotter than it should have in the early morning. William Afton's old, rusty car was barely keeping up with itself, stuttering and popping but still strolling. He wasn't even paying attention to the road anymore, he was just gripping the wheel with white knuckles and sweaty palms as he gazed past a road seemingly leading nowhere. Shaking himself out of his distraction, he swung his head to read the time his dashboard displayed. 9:47.
Good, he thought. I'm somewhat early for once.
The shadow of a building loomed in the distance. As the car crawled closer, the cool concrete of the structure began to show itself under the shade of the trees around it, the wide doors and wacky posters beginning to show their colors. A cheesy Broadway-esque sign hung from the outer walls of the building, the neon glowing despite it only being the morning. Sloppily-painted letters barely brought the message. Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Parlor, it read. Where fantasy and fun come to life!
William halted the car, parking sloppily in the near-empty lot. A few other cars, glimmering despite the spotty light from the trees, were parked perfectly near the front of the building. He wasn't alone today, and that almost took his mind off the ninety-degree heat. He sat there in the oven of a car, waiting for something to cross his mind that would never come.
All of a sudden, a tall and lanky figure burst out of the restaurant, flinging the double doors wide open. It was Henry, William's business partner and co-owner of Freddy's. Who would've guessed? William thought to himself. He's always the first one here.
"H-hey, why are you stalling, Will? You know there's gonna be huge crowds today! We need to get to work, buddy!" Henry said, an expression of worry carved on his face. William woke from his thoughtless state, hopped out of the car and near-sprinted back to the restaurant.
"Now, you know these guys love to break down..", Henry spoke, once again worriedly, as they pushed open the doors to the pizzeria. "Now, Chica needs a tweak or two, Freddy needs his mic fixed..." Henry babbled on as he usually did, passing a few other employees. William didn't need explanations. I built these darn things, he wanted to say, I know what's wrong with them. But he didn't snap.
"You know what, Henry, I'll just go on and fix 'em real quick," William muttered hastily, and jogged down a darkened, musty hallway to meet the door of the backroom. Parts and Service. The door opened with a shriek of steel, and feeble light flooded the room.
William, despite entering this room for years and years before, was still fascinated by the gallery of machinery and parts strewn across the shelves. Robotic arms and legs stuck out from boxes, accompanying torsos and hands without an owner. Spare heads of the entire Fazbear crew and more hung from posts on a wall like coats. A scratched steel table stood in the center of the room, the four robotic performers lying in a perfect line, their lifeless glass eyes staring towards the ceiling. Will quickly but carefully repaired the bots and carried the 300-pound toys out to the stage, placing them in their correct spots on the colorful, wacky stages they belonged on.
After finishing the daily task, William ran back to the back-room and slammed the door shut, sighing in relief as he flipped the flickering light on. Dust danced across the unpolished floor. The light barely lit the whole room, just enough to touch the corners and illuminate his own contraptions.
Henry had assisted William in building all the stage bots, but there were two that he kept almost entirely to himself. They sat slouched against the wall, almost ready to fall over onto the cold tiled floor. Their limp golden limbs hung from their torso, held together only by thin metal strips and other silver bits running through the hollow golden exteriors. Will temporarily turned himself away from his creations and slowly walked over to a grey, rusted file cabinet in the far corner of the room. Opening a drawer with complete silence despite the rust, one packet of papers and documents sat in the desolate bureau.
Laughing to himself, William took the document from the cabinet. Looking over it, he knew that this was indeed the plan. The theories. He was ready to see what he could do today, with the plan's assistance.
It's time.
