Out of Order
The silence that engulfed Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was suffocating. Mike Schmidt couldn't recall ever visiting a library that was this deathly quiet. Without the raucous screams and laughter, the place seemed so forlorn. Not a single party hat or eating utensil was out of place.
"Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse," he said, wandering past the rows of tables. He still had fifteen minutes before his first shift started, so he figured he would kill some time.
Mike sat in one of the chairs, and glanced at the now deserted prize counter. If scaring the new guy was the restaurant's idea of a welcome, then he sincerely hoped that Laura Houndstooth wasn't the welcoming committee. The cashier was honestly the most unfriendly person he'd ever met.
Mike had a good sense of humor, and the 'personalized' name tag was the sort of joke one of his buddies would pull. And he would've laughed under those circumstances, but the cashier didn't strike him as someone that liked to joke. Or smile for that matter. He liked to give people the benefit of a doubt. Maybe she was having a bad day at work and her way of venting was taking out her frustration on the first person she saw.
Did he do something wrong? He couldn't recall saying anything that could be taken as offensive. He'd only known her for a grand total of ten minutes. Laura's rejection stung a little more than it should, and he couldn't pinpoint exactly why it bothered him. He had always been clumsy and bashful around women. Especially after...
As if on cue, the lights in the dining area flickered off, leaving Mike sitting in the darkness with nothing but a sea of party hats and streamers for company.
That would be the universe's gentle way of telling him to stop daydreaming get off his ass and get to work.
He settled into a mildly uncomfortable chair that squeaked like a mouse being tortured every time that he moved. The office was tiny, cramped, and very...well, grey.
The wall was cluttered by children's drawings and a poster featuring the animatronics. A dapper-looking bear in a top hat stood front and center. Standing stage right was a square-jawed purple rabbit with a guitar. A curvy yellow chicken—well, he assumed that's what it was—stood stage left, wearing an apron that said "LET'S EAT!"
He ranked them somewhere between Furbies and Frida Kahlo paintings in terms of creepiness.
His eyes flitted towards the ceiling.
"Jeez, does anyone ever dust in here?" he muttered as he counted four cobwebs.
There were two doorways and large windows on either side of him. He didn't recall the hallways being so dark on his way to the office. Each door had buttons marked 'door' and 'light'. Mike cautiously pressed one and a heavy guillotine-like door dropped down. He pressed the button again and brought the door back up. He flickered the lights a few times before testing the doors again.
Aside from the drone-like whir of the fan and the buzzing lights, the pizzeria was silent as a tomb.
12:00 AM
RIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIING!
Mike jumped slightly, the chair squealing in protest. It was just the phone. He was already getting himself worked up over the most inconsequential things.
He eyed the ancient phone with the wariness of someone approaching a potentially venomous snake. It could easily be a telemarketer or some kind of prank call. Just as he reached out towards the receiver, the call went straight to voicemail.
"Hello, h-hello?" a good-natured male voice said, crackling over the phone like milk on cereal. "I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you..."
The tension in his shoulders slowly ebbed away bit by bit. He'd only just started the night shift, but hearing the voice of another human being had never felt so comforting.
"...So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine! So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week. Okay, so first, let's get you acquainted with the monitor and the doors..."
Maybe this night would go by faster than he thought. This man seemed nice enough and maybe he had some helpful words of wisdom for his successor.
3:00 AM
"Are you ever going to shut up?" Mike asked, propping his head up with one hand.
'Phone Guy,' as he had christened him, had prattled on for three friggin' hours about the mechanics of the monitor. In vivid detail.
He had never encountered a person who could talk for hours on end about things that don't matter. Was he actually human or was he some sort of living instruction manual? He was surprised that the man hadn't recited the instructions in Japanese. It had only taken Mike about ten minutes to figure out how the monitor worked, and he'd already flipped through all eleven cameras at least five times.
He could think of several things shorter than the neverending voicemail. Like listening to an audio book of Les Misérables, or the two year hiatus after Series 2 of Sherlock, or the...no. Not even this phone call was as long as the wait for Kingdom Hearts III.
"Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No! If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night, too..."
He raised an eyebrow. 'Quirky' was an adjective one used to describe an offbeat romantic-comedy starring Zooey Deschanel.
"So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay."
He checked CAM 1A, the slightly grainy image of the show stage flickering to life on the screen. The trio of characters stood motionless, their faces in profile as they gazed stoically at a point just past the camera. Something about all the shadows and the way the moody lighting hit their faces struck Mike as being unintentionally funny. He half-expected one of them to start reciting the "Life is but a walking shadow" soliloquy.
"So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit," the man continued in his unhurried pace. "They're left in some kind of 'free-roaming' mode at night. Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long."
He exhaled quietly and smiled. "Oh! So it's like Toy Story!"
"They used to be allowed to walk around during the day, too. But then there was the Bite of '97."
Mike's finger hovered above the screen, his smile still frozen on his face. Yep. Just like Toy Story.
The office was too quiet and too small. He could almost hear the sound of a needle scratching a record.
"Y-yeah. They don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey! First night should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Good night!"
Click.
Mike stared silently at the phone. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then a slow, hollow laugh escaped his lips.
"So, basically, I'm trapped in a here with a bunch of overgrown Neopets that play Hungry Hungry Hippos with their victims," he said, leaning forward and hiding his face in his hands.
The next couple of hours were going to be fun.
4:00 AM
It's kind of hard to lose a giant, purple rabbit.
Mike had somehow managed to lose a giant, fucking purple rabbit. He could see it in the book of world records, and it was a milestone he did not want to be known for.
He stared intently at the monitor, silently willing the elusive animatronic to magically reappear on the stage. He was grateful that the bear and chicken had yet to move from their spots.
Most kids were afraid of finding a monster under their beds. Mike hadn't been like most kids. He was afraid of not finding a monster under the bed. He preferred to keep track of any unwanted intruders, imaginary or not. Just because it wasn't under the bed didn't mean that said monster wasn't real. In his mind, it meant that the monster could be anywhere. It could be creeping down the hallway, swimming in the bathtub, rummaging through the fridge and eating all of the yogurt, or hiding in the closet downstairs where they stored all the Christmas decorations.
His offbeat fear was finally justified. Take that, childhood therapist.
This is the Easter egg hunt from Hell. He checked Cam 1A for the millionth time in the past hour. No sign of a tell-tale pair of ears or a fluffy tail. Finding it would have been much easier if the lights were on.
RIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIING!
"Again?!" he groaned as he flipped to the kitchen. He was met with a dark screen and the words 'Camera disabled. Audio only.'
"Hello again! I almost forgot to mention a couple of important things," Phone Guy said, a hint of urgency coloring his cheery tone. "I'll keep it short and sweet. First, I want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, a-and those blind spots happen to be right outside your doors. So if you can't find something...or someone on the cameras, check the door lights. You might only have a few seconds to react, so you need to be on your toes.
"Not that you would be in any danger, of course! I'm not implying that." he added hastily.
"Of course not," Mike retorted, flickering the light to his left. Nothing there but a few drawings and those cheap-looking stars hanging from the ceiling. It seemed to be a lame attempt at brightening the frankly dingy hallways. It was like buying a new chandelier for a haunted house.
"One last thing. Remember to close those doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power," the man paused as if allowing time for his words to sink in.
Mike's breath hitched as he slowly peeked at the monitor. Lo and behold, in the bottom left corner of the screen was a power indicator.
30%
Oh, shit.
"Well, have fun! Nighty-night!"
"Hey! Wait-"
Click.
5:30 AM
'Work at Freddy's,' they said.
'It will be fun,' they said.
"Why didn't I apply to Horace Honey Badger's?" Mike lamented to the desk fan.
He liked to say that he didn't apply because he didn't want to flip burgers. It sounded a whole lot manlier than "I'm secretly terrified of badgers."
Without Phone Guy's incessant rambling to fill the silence, Mike was aware of every individual sound. The whole building groaned and creaked . The light in the office was too harsh, and the darkened doorways were bottomless pits.
"It's me."
The young man's muscles stiffened.
"Hello? Someone out there?" he called, licking his lips.
Silence.
He cautiously flickered both lights, but nothing was there. It must have been his imagination playing tricks on him. Yeah, that was it...right?
"Pull yourself together, Mike," he muttered as he went to check the backstage camera. "You've still got thirty minutes to go, and jumping at every little sound isn't going to get you through the first night. Just stay positive-JESUS FRIGGIN' CHRIST!"
Well, he finally found the rabbit. He had almost dropped the monitor upon seeing the image that had greeted him. He took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment for his nerves to calm the heck down before looking again.
The rabbit's face was mere inches away from the camera. Its eyes had vanished, leaving two minuscule pinpricks of light. Once he'd gotten past how creepy it looked the first time, Mike couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous the bunny looked. He was either terrified or he was delirious to the point of finding everything funny. Most likely the former.
"Alright, Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close-up," he said in a husky voice before switching to Cam 1C, which was labelled 'Pirate Cove.' The image of spangled curtains and an out-of-order sign filled the screen. To Mike's great amusement, he discovered that the sign was also decorated with stars that matched the curtains.
Whatever was in there was hidden behind a wall of cheap purple fabric. There was a slight gap, but it was too dark to see inside. Mike had a strange feeling that he needed to keep a close eye on Cam 1C. Maybe if he checked it constantly, it would discourage whatever was waiting inside from leaving.
After five minutes of staring at Pirate Cove, the screen went black. The camera feed sputtered.
Mike's eyes widened cartoonishly as he flipped through each camera. Every single one was down.
"Nonononothiscannotbehappeningthiscannotbehappening!"
The camera feed was suddenly restored. Mike's heart was tap dancing aggressively in his chest.
Once he'd somewhat regained his composure, he picked up the monitor again.
He sighed shakily when he saw that the rabbit was still backstage. Crisis averted.
Creaaak.
Mike froze. It was coming from the other side of the building. It was quiet, but deliberately slow. Like whoever was making the noise was making a great show of it. And this time he knew it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. After seven years of community theater, he didn't need to look at the monitor to identify the sound.
It was the curtains opening.
Under different circumstances, the sound made him as giddy as a child at Christmas. He had thrived off of the adrenaline that came with performing. His affinity for theater ran in the family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever gotten stage fright. But at this moment, the sound made him feel like someone had replaced his blood with freezing water.
The camera! Check the camera! Do something! Anything!
Before Mike could pick up the monitor, another sound hit his ears: a rapid fire clang of something metallic repeatedly hitting the linoleum floor.
Like someone running in tap shoes. Or...
Son of a bitch.
Mike jumped to his feet and frantically pounded the switch to his left, only relaxing when the door came down with a satisfying thud. A blur of something coppery-red shot past the window. The children's drawings outside fluttered wildly as if a strong gust of wind had blown down the hallway.
The footsteps stopped right outside the door.
"What is that?!" Mike squeaked as he flickered the light. All he could make out was the silhouette of two pointy ears. It was definitely an animatronic, and boy, it was tall.
For several excruciatingly long minutes, everything was deadly quiet, like the pizzeria itself was too afraid of breaking the icy silence.
25%
Mike inhaled sharply. Maybe he had a chance at making it to 6:00 AM as long as he didn't check the monitor. Maybe the animatronic would eventually get tired of waiting, and go back to Pirate Cove if-
Bang.
His mouth went dry as the animatronic pounded its fists once against the door in the same manner when it had opened the curtains. Not particularly loud, and almost experimental. As if it was trying to gauge the reaction it would potentially get out of the security guard. Regardless of its intentions, the robot wasn't getting in anytime soon.
Bang!
It hit the door once again, but with more force than before. Mike glanced at the camera in the West hall. Nothing. The animatronic was in the 'blind spot' that Phone Guy had warned him about. Crap.
Wait...he'd said something about the doors being the primary source of draining the power. Or something along those lines.
Mike frowned searchingly at the screen. If this animatronic was as big a threat as he suspected, then why was it only hitting the door once instead of pummeling it relentlessly?
BANG! BANG!
The animatronic slammed both fists against the door with full force, causing the window to shake violently. Mike nearly fell out of his chair, his heart beating against his ribcage like a panicked bird trying to escape. He checked the power indicator with shaking hands.
9%.
Oh.
So this thing was going to camp outside the door and drain the power. And he had no way of defending himself if...
He shuddered. He really didn't want to finish that sentence.
Maybe he could reason with it. It seemed to be sentient, but to what degree? Was it even capable of understanding speech or responding? Well, there was only one way to find out.
"Uhhh, h-hi there," Mike began, trying in vain to sound friendly, but the way his voice wobbled just made him sound desperate. He hoped that robots couldn't smell fear.
When the animatronic didn't respond, he continued.
"My name's M-Mike Schmidt. New night watchman. But you uh, probably figured that out by now," he said, pulling at the collar of his sweat-drenched shirt.
Still no response.
"Listen. I-I don't mean to be rude, but you're uh, kind of wasting the power. I mean you no harm, so could you please-"
BANG!
4%.
"What the hell is your problem, man?" Mike asked, hating the way his voice cracked. He took a deep breath before continuing in a convincing facade of a level tone. "This is my first night on the job, and you know what would be great? If you don't kill me. I would really appreciate that. So I'll make you a deal: if you don't bother me, then I won't bother you. What do you say?"
There was a heavy pause. He watched in horror as the power dwindled down to 1%. This was it. He was going to die in a sketchy children's restaurant that smelled of stale pizza, body odor, and broken dreams.
6:00 AM.
Ding-dong-ding-dong! Dong-ding-ding-dong!
The ringing was coming from the monitor. The door was still shut. He peeked at the screen. To his shock, the power indicator was back to 100%. The sound effect of children cheering accompanied the chiming of the bells
"I made it," he said with a tired smile. "First night: success!"
"I wouldn't be gettin' so cocky if I were ye."
Every single hair on the back of Mike's neck stood straight up.
"Why?" he finally asked, ignoring his better judgement. It was half out of curiosity, and half out of the fact that he was simply too tired to care.
"Because ye didn't outsmart me, ye little shit. Spoiler alert: Ye ain't clever. Not brave either. Sheer dumb luck is the only fuckin' reason ye be alive right now."
There was no mistaking that the animatronic was a pirate. His tenor voice had the rough, biting quality of an individual defined by hardship and bar fights and cheap rum. Not many people can say that they've been threatened by an animatronic pirate thing.
This was so cool.
"So ye survived one night," the robot spat, each word oozing with venom. "Whoop-de-fuckin'-do. So did all the other spineless bilge rats before ye. I know yer kind. The only things ye care about are yerself and yer paycheck. Ye don't deserve to call yerselves men."
"Sooo...what's your name?" Mike asked awkwardly.
"Ye don't fuckin' deserve an introduction," the voice said. "Just know this: if I see yer candy ass here again, I'll personally drag ye from that office, slit open yer belly and fill it with candy. Then I'll string ye up and leave ye hangin' from the ceiling. Then the little ones can beat ye senseless till it rains blood and guts and fuckin' Sour Patch Kids. No one's ever seen a human piñata before."
Mike stifled a gasp as a pair of harsh yellow eyes appeared in the window, burning and flickering like lanterns. It was impossible to discern any other features in the shadows.
"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear."
"Y-yes, sir."
In the blink of an eye, the animatronic had sprinted back down the hallway.
After a couple of minutes, Mike slowly rose from his chair, grabbed his keys, and calmly left the office. His legs felt like jelly from sitting for so long.
He had a date with a hot shower and his bed.
So...Foxy is kind of intense. Given that he's a fan favorite, he had to make a good first impression. I kept the pirate lingo relatively minimal. I've noticed that there are two ways that Foxy is usually written:
1. "Sure, I took a chunk out of someone's head, but that was just one time. I'm the darling of the FNaF fandom. I'm not a bad guy; I'm just misunderstood."
2. "Damn right, I took a chunk out of someone's head. Leave that door open and you're next in line."
My take is a mixture of both, but leans more towards the latter.
The inspiration for Foxy is a weird mixture of Yosemite Sam and Malcolm Tucker.
The other animatronics will be properly introduced soon. This was tedious, but strangely fun to write. The next chapter won't be as stressful lol. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! ;)