9th May 1993

10:32 AM


"So, let me get this straight:" Benjamin spoke slowly, "You're wanting a gun so that you can shoot down a bunch of animal mascots, of which want to make you one of them like some kind of demented fan club?"

"That's the gist of it." Mike replied simply.

Benjamin shrugged. "Well, I've heard of worse reasons."

Benjamin, one of Mike's very few friends and the only one he had since school, was a hunter; a damn good one, at that. Utah wasn't exactly well-known for hunting, yet that hadn't stopped Benji. He was great with all kinds of weaponry, whether it was an M16 Rifle, a 1911 Combat Pistol, a Cobra Compound Crossbow, or even a samurai sword; the latter of which was hanging over the fireplace as a memorial to his late grandfather, who'd been the owner of that sword.

He was also smart about his livelihood, too; he lived far away from society in land that his family had owned since the late eighteen-hundreds, kept all of his weapons safely locked away and well-looked after, and followed the rules and regulations of hunting by-the-book. Since he came from a family who'd always lived on hunting, he also had a respect for the many animals that roamed in those woods that Mike wouldn't have even considered.

What's more, they'd both grown up hearing the many horror stories of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Most of it had been disregarded as hogwash, but the scars were still fresh on the community. Out of the one-hundred-or-there-about people who'd gone missing in both Hurricane and New Harmony over the last thirty years, at least ten of them were kids. Mike was fortunate enough to say that he knew none of them who had gone missing.

"But why, I have to ask?" Benjamin gave the question with a certain tone of disbelief, "Why are you risking it? You got out alive—and barely, by the sounds of it—so why are you going back?"

"For the money of course." Mike jested, "Much better than working at Warehouse 15."

"C'mon, Mike; give me a straight answer, here."

He sighed. "What do you want me to say, Benji? I'm stupid? I'm depressed? I've got nothing to live for anymore? Or that I haven't been able to get that place out of my head for the last six months?"

"For one thing, you're not stupid; you're the smartest guy I know." Benjamin still wasn't satisfied. "And for another, throwing yourself into danger ain't gonna fix anything, bud. Doing this will either end up with you dead, or in jail."

"What choice do I have? This isn't a suicide mission I'm going for. I just need some protection. This opportunity might be my only one and if luck is with me, I'll not even have to use it."

"We always have a choice, Mike." Benjamin stated. "If you're really that desperate, sell your apartment, pack anything you need, and move in with me."

Mike shook his head. "I can't ask that from you, Benji. And what good will I be out here? Remember that time you tried to teach me hunting?"

That caused Benjamin to snort a bit. "When you slipped down that hill while we were stalking that deer?"

"And I fell into the rapids?"

"I had to fish you out, sure, but you did a good job at keeping your head above water."

The both chuckled a bit, before they remained silent for what seemed like hours. Finally, Benjamin spoke up again.

"Listen: If you're really serious about doing this, I'll back you up all the way. I've got a few pistols down here that don't technically have a licence, so at least it won't be traced back to me. But you need to realise that if you get caught…"

"If I get caught," Mike cut in. "I'll take down the pizzeria with me."


11:48 PM


Fortunately for Mike, he'd always lived close to Freddy's, even back when he was younger; it was bad enough that Mike had been forced to fight for his life every night for minimum wage, but it would have been worse if he had to walk miles upon miles just to get back and forth.

As he approached the driveway, he couldn't help himself as he stared at the sight of the pizzeria. A thin black case was hung on his arm by a sling; he'd stored both the gun and the bullets Benjamin provided for him with his work clothes. He'd started to take a fresh pair with him.

He noticed his now-new-but-previously-former boss Charles Garfield leaving the pizzeria. He usually stayed in from five until eleven, clocking off around half-an-hour before Mike's shift. Whether it was just coincidence or deliberate was something Mike had never been sure of, yet he could say that it usually grew irritating when the manager acted like it was something new.

"Ah, Mr. Schmitt!" He said happily, a smile present on his face. "Happy to see you back on the work force!"

Giving a polite nod, Mike took the pizzeria's shoddy appearance in. "Place hasn't changed much."

"You're right about that." Charles rested his hands on his hips and gave a sad sigh, "It's falling to pieces. If we had the money to fix it up, I would certainly consider it, but…well, our only source of income comes from the government grant."

That caught Mike off-guard. "Grant? What grant?"

"Oh, you didn't know? The local council is the only thing keeping this place open. We're out of retail business, you see, and so we're operating solely as a storage building."

Mike couldn't help but feel the confusion creeping up inside him. "Why would the council need to keep an entire building operational just for storing a bunch of washed-up mascots?"

Garfield could only shrug. "I really don't know, Mike. It's the only thing keeping me, you, and the other employees from being made redundant and the one thing I've learnt when it comes to Freddy's is that it's best to not ask questions."

Strangely, Mike found the conversation to be rather revelational. He'd always presumed that Charles knew the exact ins and outs of what went on in Freddy Fazbear's; now, it seemed, that the manager was as in the dark as the rest of them. Whether Mike found that comforting or frightening was something he wasn't sure he could answer.

Snapping out of his stupor, Garfield smiled again. "Anyway, I have a side task for you this week! As you may know, our current training tapes are…outdated, to say the least."

"Oh, I don't know." Mike found his snarkiness once more. "I feel they teach what needs to be taught."

Charles shook his head. "There's not even a 'end of first week' message! And it doesn't help that there's only four tapes."

"Right." Mike drawled the word out. "So, what's this side task?"

"Simply enough, I'm needing you to record a message every day for the next week. Just talk about what any future night guards should do and how to handle certain situations. Nothing too complicated!"

"Do I get a bonus?"

Garfield harrumphed at that. "You demand a higher pay check, yet you ask for a bonus?"

"You want the tapes recorded, or what?"

"Fine." Charles accepted grumpily. "One dollar per tape."

"Five dollars."

"Two."

"Five."

"Three?"

"Five."

Charles was growing redder and redder. "Fine. Five dollars per tape."

Not being able to help the smirk that went across his face, Mike patted him on the back. "Ah, don't worry about it, boss! The grant will pay for it!"

With that, Mike stepped into the dark halls of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria.

Upon first entering, you would be greeted by a small entry room that acted as the cashier stand. Posters hung from the walls, though some had seemingly been ripped off. At the far left end of the room was a small counter area, where the till and several small beverages were. Behind the pair of doors was the main dining area.

Clocking in, Mike gave a sigh as he pushed the doors open. It was time to face the four, it seemed. He wondered whether they were as ghastly as last time?

For the night guard, the worst part of entering the room was the fact that you wouldn't even start off with the animatronics in view. The stage, a big thing built in to the pizzeria, was to the right, but it meant you would need to fully look behind yourself to see the four. Pirate's Cove was a bit easier, since it was at the far right area of the room.

Still; it was never a nice first feeling when you had your back to those soulless robots, whether or not they were at that point awake. They'd always tended to make Mike feel small upon seeing them and he hated the feeling of dread he would immediately get upon seeing them up on that stage, staring lifelessly into the distance.

And yet, in spite of this feeling, there was something much more powerful flowing through Mike's veins as he stood there, gazing at the seven-foot monstrosities. They had always been the dangers lurking in the dark, the boogeymen of his workplace. But for the first time in forever, fear was no longer his gut feeling.

The rage that was rising up seemed to stop that fear from overtaking it as he started walking up the steps to the stage.

"Hey there, rust buckets." He spoke with a snarky tone, "Long time, no see."

As usual before midnight, the animatronics did not so much as twitch. Their 'lockdown' mode occurred twice a day: Between six am and twelve pm, when the restaurant would open, and between six pm and midnight, when Mike's shift started. Seeing as how the restaurant hadn't been open to the public since before 1980, it had been a long time since they'd seen a paying customer.

"I doubt you recognise me. I doubt any of you even have the intelligence to recognise someone." He walked between the three onstage, staring smugly at each of their slacking faces. "So, to give you a refresher, you're all a bunch of demented Disney rejects that should've been dismantled ages ago."

He turned slightly to Pirate's Cove. "That goes double for you, Foxy!"

Smirking, Mike felt the fear having completely left him. If he was putting himself through this stupidity again, the least he deserved were a few small victories. He already knew that insulting them like this had an effect, however much effective; he'd tested it on his sixth day back on the first week.

"So, with that in mind, I just want you to know this: No matter how long I'll be here, you'll still remain as hated as you've been since this place got closed. People will never look back on you with 'fondness' or 'affection'; you'll just be that stain everyone wants washed out."

"Whether or not you actually like the fact that literally everyone despises you, it doesn't change the fact that you guys became irrelevant. Little more than scrap heaps. So, I'll give you a warning: Stay away from me, or you'll actually be scrap heaps by the time I'm done."

Stepping off the stage, Mike strided passed the tables, only slowing down near Pirate's Cove.

"Oh, and Foxy? Break a leg."

As Mike walked away, however, he did not see the slight stir that came from the cove. He did not see the rabbit's shoulders slump slightly. He did not see the artificial blink that came from the chicken. And he did not see Freddy's eyes dart to where he'd just been.

"Well, that was just rude." Freddy said with exasperation.

All of the other animatronics gave signs of agreement as they came to life.


10th May 1993

12:01 AM


Clearing his throat as he started the tape, Mike starting speaking through the telephone. It was a weird recording device. "Uh, hello. This tape has been recorded to help you settle in on your first night working here. I've worked in this office before you and... well…" Noticing his hesitation, Mike scowled. He wasn't going to be some shill for a scummy company.

"I'm not going to lie to you here: This job is dangerous." He found himself becoming more confident as he threw away his original intention of being like the original taper. "I'm going to try and help you get through your first week here. First things up: Keep watching the stage. You need to be alert, otherwise it's not going to go well for you."

Picking up the small piece of print that was on his desk, Mike got ready for the long-winded message. "Now, there's this legal message I need to read out. Let's get it out of the way: 'Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria; a magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon as property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been replaced."

"Anyway, with that out of the way, you've probably heard things about this place. There are things that are not true: There isn't some kind of Satanist cult that stays here for the free pizza, nor do the animatronics eat the flesh of the fallen. Then there's the truth."

"These things have been alone here for over ten years. I haven't a clue whether they've always been the way they are, but what I do know is that they're allowed to walk around during night time, otherwise their leg servos will lock up. One of them is already looking pretty bad."

"Now for the bad part: Since they 'wander' around, they'll no doubt run into you eventually. The 'official' explanation for what I'm about to tell you is that they won't recognise you as a human being, but rather one of the endoskeletons. Since a naked endoskeleton his against the rules here—apparently robot mascots have rules, yes—they'll try to put you in one of the costumes in the back."

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, here; that's bad. The suits are not designed for human beings and as such, if they get their way, you're going to die. You need to make sure that it doesn't happen."

"Seeing as how you're listening to this, it either means that I got lucky and found a new job, or I got caught. If so, do your best to get through the next week. Get out of here as soon as you can. These tapes don't seem to get examined by management until a year has passed, so you might get lucky. This job isn't worth dying for."

He knew how hypocritical that was. He was essentially telling the future night guards to quit ASAP, yet here he was: Returning to a dead-end job.

"There'll be a tape every day until Sunday. Don't think you'll get out of doing the weekend: There's some stupid 'mandatory overtime' stipulation."

"Listen: I know how crazy this all sounds. I was in your position, once. But listen to everything I say."

"The animatronics will probably start moving at around 3am. Only one—the rabbit—will move at first. He'll try to lure you into a false sense of security. He's not too much of a threat, but do not underestimate him."

"The chicken might start moving near the end of the night. She'll stay far back. She's just trying to distract you. Keep your eyes on both of them."

"If one of them gets to the hallways, use your doors. They're a lifesaver, but they drain a lot of your power. For all that's holy, do not let your power run out! If it does, pray that the end of your shift is only a few seconds away. If not, I'm truly sorry."

"The other two animatronics won't be a threat tonight. Freddy won't be moving until Wednesday and Foxy until tomorrow. Yes, there's a fourth one, hidden in the cove. Don't worry about him for now."

"Anyway, use the next couple of hours to get used to your office. Don't panic; you can't panic with this job. You can get through this if you stay focused."

"And don't try leaving the office. It's the only thing keeping you alive."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

He sighed as he ended the tape. He honestly couldn't care less if management had a problem with him telling the truth.

Looking through the cameras, Mike instantly found himself being stared at by the three onstage, all looking extremely murderous.

"Well," He spoke softly, "Just another night at Freddy's."


Sorry this took so long. Had a bit of writer's block. Just so you all know, chapters won't be coming as often as I wish they would. Because I have college and a part-time job, I only get a couple of days a week to myself. They'll come, but don't expect them to be consistent.

I also appreciate all of the responses so far. It means a lot that there's still people reading, and I hope it won't come to a disappointing end.

See you soon.