Chapter 2: Night One [Pt. 1]
The pizzeria's lights were shut off when Camille had returned and hesitantly pushed open the 'Sorry! We're closed!' tagged door. Kind of expecting the door to be locked, and that this night shift had been a daydream after all, she couldn't hide her surprise when it slid open, teasingly smooth.
Yes, Camille actually was very nervous to guard starting from midnight until dusk a -according to Alfred- haunted pizzeria with neglected animatronic characters.
Taking small steps forwards in the darkness, she wondered where Mr Beilschmidt could've gone. Was he still in his office? Did he expect her to find out everything on her own? Was she supposed to roam the pizzeria without seeing a hand in front of her eyes? Camille kept her mouth shut, however, thinking that breaking the silence would have serious consequences. She knew it was silly, but superstition forcefully took control over her body and actions.
With breath hitching, heart thumping like a maniac and weak, trembling legs, Camille shuffled forwards with faintly out-stretched arms to feel her way into the dark. Everything around her was pitch-black and silent as the night. It felt as if every moment she could run into someone... or something...
"Miss Duvauchelle!"
Camille stumbled over her own feet in haste to jump back in fright. A flashlight flickered on.
"This stupid thing never works when it's supposed to- Are you alright there?"
"Um, yes!" She nodded, though she felt bare and exposed in the beam of Mr Beilschmidt's flashlight.
"Gut. Follow me, bitte."
The light bolt was fixed on the floor again to illuminate the way through the dark pizzeria. Camille relaxed a little, now in Mr Beilschmidt's presence, but kept her guard up. Murky, creepy places always gave her the creeps. Bell's was no exception.
"Here we are." Mr Beilschmidt gestured inside a dimly lit office, sized about two by three meters width and length respectively. In the front stood a desk with monitoring devices, on which a pink cartoony cupcake with eyes was settled, an electronic fan and a telephone. Wires streamed up the walls, which were adorned with posters and children's drawings of three mascots; Arthur was missing once again.
"Your job is to watch the monitors and make sure the equipment and the animatronics are unharmed. I suggest that you do not leave your spot, Miss Duvauchelle! Outside in the halls and corridors it's very dark, so you wouldn't see a thing. The safest option is to stay inside. Understood?" Mr Beilschmidt's steel eyes pierced into hers and she quickly nodded.
"Understood, sir."
His gaze almost softened, though Camille assumed that hope swayed her perception of reality. "Your required uniform lays on the chair. You may get changed in the ladies' restrooms." The boss checked his watch. "Hurry up, bitte, so you can start your shift right away."
"Yes, sir!" She swiftly picked up the pack and Mr Beilschmidt lent the girl his flashlight.
"When you're in the dining area, in front of the show stage, turn to the right. There you will find the restrooms." He instructed, as Camille walked out of the office into the east hall with flashlight pointing out in front of her as if holding some sort of weapon. It did soothe her, though.
Her steps were quick and hasty and resounded with click-clacks through the lifeless corridor. Posters of Allen, Francis and Tonio were hung up on the left, reading captions like 'Party time!' 'Fun time!' and 'Eating time!'. She flashed the light onto their printed faces, but the eeriness of their grins caused her to fix her gaze and light soon enough straight into the hallway again, like a mare trotting forwards with blinders on.
As she approached the dining area, the creeps crept slowly onto her back and Camille unconsciously started holding her breath. Debating whether to throw beams of light across the hall, for the sake of a quick security check or just hurry her way into the restrooms... She simply did both. While rushing forwards, the light directly fell onto the show stage. And her heart skipped a beat. Floated for a second into her chest like a dead lump of flesh.
Did Francis just wink at her?
Stifling a terrified shriek, Camille raced into the ladies' restroom and knocked the lock to work. No, that wasn't possible... It was the light... Just a trick of the light reflecting on his glass eyeballs... A violent shiver trailed down her spine as she wordlessly reasoned with herself.
Just my brain playing tricks on me. Man up, Camille! She thought, as she still not dared to break the eerie atmosphere with her most probably trembling voice. Paranoia is already messing with my brain... I should know better than this.
As quickly as her agitated fingers could fumble with the buttons of the uniform's black blouse with the Bell's logo, Camille dressed up in her new attire for the night shift. She hoisted herself into the tight black pants and zipped up the leather boots before assembling her previous outfit, consisting of a long, pink petticoat with a navy blue dress underneath.
It was a relief to reach the office without any harm done: she'd avoided committing the blunder of glimpsing at the show stage again.
Mr Beilschmidt had been staring at his watch, before gazing down at Camille in... contentment, she guessed? An unsure smile fluttered about her lips as she stood awkwardly in the door opening. "It is a quarter to twelve, Miss. I suggest that you settle down, test out the door mechanics and explore the camera feeds." Mr Beilschmidt strode towards the left door while Camille slowly shuffled inside. "I will be shutting off the exit and head home. At 6 AM, someone will arrive to open it up for you. I hope that's no bother for you?"
The knowledge of being locked up for six hours into a pizzeria at night was alarming, and not in the slightest. "Not at all, Mr Beilschmidt."
"Good." It might've been her imagination, but the blonde manager did look appeased with an employee who quietly agreed with the rules and refrained from asking more questions than needed. Though Cami's head burst with many, many unanswered ones, Mr Beilschmidt didn't exactly look like someone who'd welcome them.
"Then I will be leaving you, Miss. Good luck on your night." Mr Beilschmidt nodded curtly before exiting the office with the heavy thuds of his step echoing through the west hall. The reality of the long and lonely night downed upon Camille in all its weight.
[ A/N Just kidding. Next chapter will be the actual first night. Consider it as a teaser. Leave a comment if you enjoyed it (or not) so far. Ellie the Platypus, over and out. ]
