Hello! I'm back to once again blow the dust off this old story. To do so, I have some updates for you all:

When I began the rewrite, I severely underestimated how much time it would take to get everything up to my standards. Obviously, this hasn't played out well. To remedy this, I'm going to loosen my standards and also stop merging chapters. That means that the chapters will be re-released more or less at the same length they originally were. These changes may produce chapter length inconsistency, as well as the odd mistake or writing style change, though I'll filter as many of these issues out as possible during revision. The upside to this is that I'll be able to update more frequently.

I'll have more for you at the bottom, but for now, enjoy!

The walk to Mr. Fazbear's office was uneventful. By this time of night most of the families had left the restaurant, though there was one party still wrapping up in the show room. On my way past the doorway I had cast a sideways look inside- an act of curiosity that I immediately regretted. As though their eyes had never strayed from the door since I left earlier that day, all three of the performing animatronics were staring at me as I passed, their eyes unwavering and unforgiving. Panic began to constrict my chest with the thought that I'd soon be locked in the building with them again. I wasn't one for playing the fearless hero and had no delusions about what would become of me if I slipped up. The thought furrowed my brow as I created, tested, and dismissed several possible survival strategies in my head. Before I knew it, I had reached Mr. Fazbear's office without a plan that was likely to leave me in one piece. I knocked on the door twice to signify my arrival.

"Mr. Fazbear? It's Dustin."

For a moment the only answer was the rustling of paper and a low mumbling before I heard a clear reply.

"Come in,"

I reached for the doorknob, pausing only to ensure my stitches were doing their job, before letting myself inside. Mr. Fazbear was seated at his desk as usual, though I noticed that his desktop was covered in even more unorganized paperwork than normal. He was obviously very busy, but immediately put his work aside to politely smile at me.

"Please, take a seat." He said while gesturing to an open chair opposite the desk from him. I nodded and closed the door behind me before seating myself. A moment of silence passed as Mr. Fazbear lowered his gaze to the paperwork on his desk, likely thinking of the best way to initiate the conversation. In the end I did it for him.

"You seem busy tonight, sir; I hope I'm not interrupting too much."

"Ah, nonsense!" He replied with a light chuckle. "It's unfortunate to have a conversation under these circumstances, but I rather enjoy your company. Besides, too much work without a break doesn't do anyone much good."

I nodded in agreement before he continued.

"So, about last night… You seem to have experienced a bit of- let's say- trouble during your shift?"

I bit back several spiteful remarks at the reductionist way he worded himself. He knew exactly what had caused my condition, and yet he addressed it as though it were nothing more than an everyday accident… Though I also shuddered at the realization that it may indeed be the case in this situation. Regardless, I was ready to cut the crap.

"Yes. Your robots-"

"-Animatronics,"

"Once more tried to kill me-"

"-Experienced glitches,"

"By shoving me into another robot's suit."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead in defeat. Under his breath I thought I heard him mumble another 'Animatronics', and I fought the inclination to smirk. It seemed my point had been taken.

"Alright, I can see that you're not too fond of our performers. It's understandable given the circumstances. However, this will be your third shift working as a night guard here, which is nearly unheard of. In fact, only two other guards come to mind who have lasted longer than you- one in 1987, and the other at the last location. Of course, after about a week both were either fired or… discharged."

I snorted sarcastically at the last word's implications, though it was louder than I had intended and Mr. Fazbear cut me a sharp look. I shrugged sub-apologetically before he continued.

"The point is, you possess and maintain the same qualities that had let them serve the company for as long as they had, which makes your employment here worth that much more. As a bonus, you take an interest in finding other solutions to safely watch over the building. These points mean that you could very possibly secure a permanent position as night watchman here-"

"Woah woah woah, 'permant position'?" I cut him off, "We've had this talk before, remember? I thought I made it clear that I'm not staying here for long. I know that to you it must seem like I'm doing really well, but I can't keep this up forever."

I paused to lift up my shirt and expose the recently mended gash on my abdomen for emphasis, watching Mr. Fazbear cringe at the sight before lowering the hem again.

"Your 'performers' are really trying to kill me, and don't tell me it's only a matter of glitchy coding. They want me dead. I've seen it in their behavior. In their eyes."

I'm sure I sounded crazy- but then I remembered my exchange with Freddy this morning. Those weren't just the cold eyes of a machine- there was something sinister behind all the tech. It didn't matter if no one else could see it; I was certain that those machines hated me.

Mr. Fazbear looked taken aback by my outburst at first, then let a quiet moment pass in which he seemed to be contemplating something. After a tense and lingering silence, he deeply sighed.

"Look… I really need a good guard." He said, his voice unlike I had ever heard it before. Instead of his usual flamboyance, he now sounded somber. The stark contrast in his nature caught my attention, so I leaned back to hear him out.

"You see… After so many years of going through guards, we have accumulated substantial debt. Even despite wavers and non-disclosure agreements, families are suing… Detectives are snooping around… It adds up fast. However, very few bodies have ever been recovered and proof of foul play associated with the company might as well be nonexistent. Nobody knows exactly why any of this happens; not even me."

He leaned forward, looking into my eyes with a cold seriousness.

"If you ask me, this place is cursed. Not just the building, but the whole damn company. Ever since the first location, it's been nothing but bad luck and mystery. I've been able to dismiss it all as an urban legend, though only due to the lack of evidence. That's the only way I've been able to keep Freddy's alive. But just like you, I can't keep it up forever. If I can get a guard- just one damned guard- to stay here without quitting or disappearing, then I'll have the testimony to prove that nothing unusual is happening. Then I'll be able to get us back on track; I could start paying off all the debt that has built up over the years- it will be a fresh start. That's why the company needs you… that's why I need you. You can be the guard that turns things around."

I sighed and shook my head. At least now he was openly admitting that something was wrong with this place, but that didn't make me feel any better about staying. It also sounded like the company was in a real sink-or-swim situation despite how well it appeared to be doing from the outside, but why did I have to be the one to save it? I was just some guy off the street, not a miracle worker.

"Please, Dustin… I know you don't want to stay, but at least try to. If not for me or the company, then for the children."

I couldn't think of a lower appeal to sympathy, but I also knew that he had hit me right where it mattered most: my childhood love of Freddy Fazbear's. I remembered how torn up I was when the first Freddy's closed, and couldn't imagine how much worse I'd have felt if it had permanently been brought down by bankruptcy and scandal. Then another thought hit me- if this place closed then what would become of Foxy? Would her sorrowful existence end without her ever receiving a second chance?

At that moment I wanted to shove the conflict far away. My fear and pain were clashing with responsibility and guilt, not to mention the lingering issue that was my finances. Sure, I could hunt for another job, but it was my bad luck in finding employment that landed me here in the first place. The whole situation was causing more stress then I was prepared for, and I felt like completely breaking under the pressure…

But I didn't.

"And what if I stayed?"

Mr. Fazbear quickly looked up at me, his eyes filled with a renowned gleam of hope. At the same time I realized what I had said and knew that there was no going back now. I was one-part filled with relief at making an ethical choice, and one-part filled with self-hatred for even entertaining the idea of working here longer.

"Well… You would certainly receive a substantial increase in this week's paycheck, given your injuries. As for a prolonged arrangement, what did you have in mind?"

Hush money? Or did he really feel bad for what had happened? Either way, some extra cash never hurt. Then I thought about his question. What did I want?

"Some answers would be nice." I replied, "And a small favor."

Mr. Fazbear paused, and I noticed his eyes shift nervously. He was still hiding something; there was no doubt about it. Hopefully by the end of this I would know what it was.

"Answers? Well, of course some questions will be out of my contractual abilities to answer, but I will try to-"

"No, you're not going to pull that now." I crossed my arms. "If you want me to stay, then be honest with me."

His tongue flicked briefly over his lips, then he nodded.

"Ok. What do you want to know?"

"Firstly, why exactly did the previous restaurants close? I've heard of all the news stories and cover-ups, but I need to hear it from you."

Mr. Fazbear relaxed a bit in his posture before answering.

"So you want to know the history of Freddy Fazbear's? Is that it?"

I nodded. "I've always known about some of the past here, but there are a lot of blanks that I've never been able to fill in."

He appraised me momentarily before looking down at his desk, as though he was plucking old memories from the back of his mind. He then hummed quietly and nodded.

"Very well, I guess we'll start from the beginning and work our way here. It wouldn't hurt to get comfortable… this isn't a simple run-through of dates, you know."

I couldn't help but notice that Mr. Fazbear looked much older suddenly, his eyes weary and glassed-over while every line in his face seemed more deeply etched into his skin than before. He cleared his throat before speaking up again.

"The first 'location' wasn't actually under the management of Fazbear Entertainment. It was family-owned, and they only had two animatronics at the time; a different type than is used currently. These models doubled as mascot outfits, allowing employees to wear them and act as the characters, but they were cheaply made. The spring lock mechanisms that allowed them to be worn were dreadfully unsafe. As if that wasn't enough to worry about, an incident took place there that broke national news. A kid- couldn't have been seven years old- was found murdered outside the restaurant, and the press had a field day with the place. Ran them straight into bankruptcy. Fazbear Entertainment saw an opportunity to make some money, and so they purchased the building and all of its assets."

I shook my head in disgust- what kind of terrible person would kill a kid like that? It was a horrible act, and the fact that it happened at a family restaurant made it seem even sicker. With a headline like that, it was no wonder why it became such a big story.

"Did they ever catch the killer?" I asked hopefully.

Mr. Fazbear cleared his throat quietly as his gaze shifted downward.

"No… Despite the murder taking place in public, in broad daylight, they never caught the culprit."

I shook my head again but asked him to continue with the timeline.

"The next location was the first real "Freddy Fazbear's". The company had invested a large chunk of money into new animatronics, though they also kept the two spring lock models. You probably already know who the new animatronics were- Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy… though the characters were much more blocky and unrealistic than they are currently. At the time they were also prototyping a new animatronic whose job was to award gifts to the children. They crafted it from a doll costume found at the previous diner, but the thing was always acting strangely and they couldn't unveil it to the public until the next location was opened. By that point they had discovered a method to keep it stable. Strangely enough, the only way to contain it was by playing music to it…"

"The Puppet?" I asked, briefly recalling the tall jack-in-a-box animatronic.

Mr. Fazbear nodded. "Yeah, that's the one… The first animatronic to display unusual behavior among the lot. It seemed fine with kids, but when adults got near it would just… stare. Like it was assessing them. It was known for shorting out, too, and even managed to roam freely about the restaurant at night on rare occasions, despite its coding."

"Is that why they always had that music box around it? To keep it under control?"

"Exactly." Mr. Fazbear paused, looking as though he wanted to say more, but instead resumed his explanation of the second restaurant.

"Anyway, I'm sure you know that the company built a larger building to house the Pizzeria's operations at around that time. The result was incredible: families were coming from all over the country to see these animatronics. Within months the place had nearly paid for itself. Though, despite the good financial position the company was in, they continued use of the two original animatronic suits- against sound logic, in my opinion. Several accidents involving employee injury and mutilation occurred before the company finally just stowed the two suits in the backroom."

"So why did that location close?" I asked. "It sounds like they were doing alright, more or less."

Mr. Fazbear slowly looked around the room before he took a breath and leaned toward me, his voice low and soft when he answered.

"Have you ever heard stories about kids going missing around then?" He asked, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Maybe. Nothing specific comes to mind."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. The company has it mostly covered up by now. To put it simply, it was another murder just like at the original diner. This time, though, there were more victims. Five of them."

"Five?" I repeated, much louder than intended.

Mr. Fazbear shushed me curtly while nervously looking around again. I apologized in a near-whisper while Mr. Fazbear took a moment to listen for anyone outside. After being met with nothing but silence, he continued.

"Five victims. All under the age of ten." He grimaced. "It was horrible. But strangely enough, no bodies were found. That was, until customers began complaining about the animatronics having an odor some time later. A mechanic was sent in to check it out, and what he found was… well…"

He let his sentence hang there until its implications hit me. I suddenly felt very nauseous, my head spinning and stomach feeling exceptionally light. For several seconds I had to fight not to gag at the thought. All the while Mr. Fazbear patiently waited for me to recover.

"H-he..? The kids..?" I asked while regaining my composure.

He nodded. "Yes. All five of them."

"But wait…" I started, "You said there were five kids… but there are only four animatronics. What happened to the fifth child?"

"It's not known for sure." He answered as he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. "They never found that one."

I swallowed hard but nodded for him to continue.

"It was a terrible blow to the company. People just about stopped coming altogether. And so they closed down, keeping the animatronics with hopes of reopening later on… And they did. Do you remember the second location?"

"Yeah… It was nothing like the other one." I answered with a bit of leftover childhood disappointment in my voice.

"No, it wasn't." Mr. Fazbear agreed. "The public opinion left over from the previous location was atrocious, and so the company decided to go in a whole different direction. The old animatronics were scrapped and kept in the Parts and Service room at the new building, while a whole new line of animatronics ran the place. Fazbear Entertainment really went all out on these new models- each was deemed super child-friendly and were even tied into a criminal database to prevent another incident from taking place. And for the most part it worked, but… History tends to repeat itself."

"What do you mean? They lost the guy again?" I asked in disbelief.

"Well, not quite. The suspect was detained this go around."

I began to relax at the thought, but paused when I saw the look in Mr. Fazbear's eyes. He was looking around the room again rather than at me.

"They got him?" I asked, fishing for another sign of untruth. "So no more children were killed, then?"

"Correct." He answered, "Moving on, there was also a mishap with one of the animatronics. It was in disrepair due to the rough treatment it got from the children, and during the restaurant's final week it went off the deep end completely."

"What do you mean?" I wasn't sure how much worse this chronology could get, but was curious nonetheless.

"Well, in an event that became known as the Bite of '87 the animatronic began to spaz uncontrollably, finally shorting out after so much abuse. It then proceeded to lunge upward and attack a staff member who had just been transferred from the night shift. It was the man's first shift as a day watchman."

"Talk about bad luck…" I said under my breath. Mr. Fazbear let out a little chuff but shook his head.

"Seems like it, right?" He asked. "But the witnesses all report the same thing: the animatronic seemed to target that staff member specifically. It didn't pay any of the children, parents, or even his fellow workers any mind. Even after the damage was done it clung to him before deactivating for good, seemingly on its own."

I nodded. I hadn't listened to my employee assistance phone call the previous night, but the recorded message I had listened to on my first shift had made a reference to the Bite. Something about how a human body could survive without the frontal lobe. The thought made me shiver.

"So is that why that location closed?" I asked.

"Yep. Between the second wave of missing children and the Bite the company once again had to shut their doors. I was just becoming a higher-up at Fazbear Entertainment when it happened, and believe me when I tell you that heads were rolling over what had become of this "New Face" of Freddy Fazbear's. Nobody thought there was any hope left for the company and a lot of people jumped ship… But just then a miracle happened."

"A miracle?

"To be more specific, a random donation for over a million dollars."

I nearly choked on my own spit.

"A million? But who would possibly give them that much money?"

He shrugged. "The working theory is that it was someone who had been a big fan of the company. Whoever they were, and whatever their motive, they saved Freddy's. I was one of the only people at the company who had remained loyal throughout all of the trials, so I was promoted to personally managing all future Freddy Fazbear establishments."

I nodded but didn't reply. Even though I had come for answers and found what I was looking for, it was all a bit overwhelming to hear at once. This place was surrounded by death and inexplicable occurrences, each of them seemingly more ridiculous and grotesque than the previous.

For the first time since the conversation had started, Mr. Fazbear smiled at me. It wasn't a happy expression, though; it seemed artificial, and his eyes seemed more sympathetic than anything.

"They gave me most of the money with the lone requirement that I make another restaurant. Believe it or not, a million bucks doesn't get you as much as you might think… I ended up moving the restaurant back to the building used for the first Freddy Fazbear's. The place was a dump after being abandoned for so long, but I did the best with what I had. I also patched up and upgraded the four original animatronics, as well as fully repairing three of them. They even let me keep one of the spring lock animatronics that was left in the backroom- though the other one had been done away with at some point. The remaining suit was worn to hell and completely useless. I ended up stowing it in storage."

"What about the Toy animatronics?" I asked, prompting him to sigh.

"The company couldn't cover up the Bite in time to keep the media oblivious, and soon enough the whole Midwest knew about how one of the new animatronics had ripped a man's brain out. The publicity was so negative that the company had to completely do away with the Toy animatronics to save even a shred of their own name."

"Makes sense." I said after thinking it over for a moment. "I don't know if anyone would come near the place if they had kept the new models."

"Right. Anyway, with some help and a lot of hard work, I was able to get the company back on its feet. Before long we were able to move out of that old location and build a bigger Freddy's, which is where we are today."

He paused to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipe his face with it. I cut a look at a clock on the wall and saw that it was now nearing 11 o'clock- late, but not late enough that I couldn't prod him for more information.

"I have one more question for the night." I began.

He tucked his handkerchief away and leaned back in his seat. "Fire away."

"What became of Foxy?" I asked. "You don't have her on display anymore."

I tried to sound as sincere as possible, unsure how my boss would react to the knowledge that I had already visited her twice- especially since that would mean I had ignored all of the warning signs he had put up.

"It's dead." He answered indifferently. "The thing cut out a long time ago."

I was surprised by how quickly he had answered, as well as how he dismissed her completely.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. It hasn't been active in years, I assure you."

I had only inferred that Mr. Fazbear had been lying earlier on. Now, though, I had proof. It made me wonder how honest he really was with me earlier; he had given me a pretty detailed backstory for Freddy's, but he easily could have manufactured some of it. Regardless, I had to focus on Foxy for now.

"Do you know where she is now?" I continued nonchalantly.

"Decommissioned and in storage." He raised an eyebrow at me. "You seem to have a lot of interest in this particular animatronic."

I struggled only for a moment to come up with an excuse that wouldn't blow my cover.

"She was my favorite animatronic back in the day. I just noticed that she wasn't on display anymore and got curious."

He continued to give me that same skeptical look for a moment before his gaze softened.

"Two things you need to know about that animatronic; one is that it became dysfunctional after being neglected at the second restaurant. It was unpredictable and unsafe. Two, it looked more suited to be a killer than a character at a kid's restaurant. More specifically, it looked like the same animatronic that ripped that man's head open in 1987. The likeness between the two raised misconceptions that Foxy was the one responsible for the Bite rather than that Mangle of parts. The public was terrified of it, and so spending the money to fix it up was meaningless."

As coldhearted as his response seemed, I had to remember that I was biased when it came to Foxy. He may not have been familiar with the side of her that I knew, so it would make sense that he would regard her as just another machine. That didn't make concealing my anger toward him any easier, though, so I rushed toward ending the conversation.

"That's a shame, but thanks for answering my questions. That's all I have for now."

"Anything for my favorite night guard," Mr. Fazbear replied as he also stood, holding his hand out for me to shake. "…Right?"

"…Right." I accepted the handshake and matched his smile. "Though you still owe me a favor."

"And what might that be?"

"I told you that Foxy was my favorite, so hearing about what happened is kind of upsetting. Do you have anything Foxy-related that I could hold onto? You know, like a momento."

"I'm sure I can find something. Do you think an old poster would work? A plushy, maybe?"

I hummed but shook my head. "I know it sounds weird, but I was hoping you could give me something more sentimental. Like an actual part of Foxy or something. Do you have anything like that?

He scratched his chin for a second before he snapped his fingers in a "Bingo!" manner.

"Actually, I do have a part that was supposed to be installed in her voice box. It's from when the animatronics were being repaired… I only wanted parts for the band, since Foxy wouldn't be performing any longer, but the man who worked on them shared a similar sentimentality with you. He updated Foxy as he had all the rest, but didn't go through with any performance-based repairs since they'd be pointless. He did give me the parts, though, just in case we ever reinstated her. However, I doubt that'll ever happen… So would a bona fide Foxy part work for you?"

I couldn't stop myself from grinning. He was offering exactly what I was after.

"That would be perfect! I'd love to have something that special."

Mr. Fazbear gave me one of his trademarked warm smiles. "Consider it done! It'll take me some time to dig it up, but if you can swing by here tomorrow I'll try to have it ready for you."

"I'll be here. Thanks again!"

"Not a problem," He answered with a chuckle. "Though are you sure you wouldn't rather have an old souvenir? We have loads of that old memorabilia lying around."

"No, the part sounds nice." I shot a glance at the clock then turned for the door. "Looks like my shift's about to start, so I'd better get going."

"Wise decision," He replied with a chuckle, "I'd best do the same. I know it may be hard given your injuries, but do be careful tonight."

I paused at the door to turn and smile at him. "Hey, I hate dying as much as the next guy."

And with that, I walked out into the hall and turned toward my office.

Due to the long wait, I'll not be giving individual shoutouts for reviewers in this A/N. I will go back to doing so in the next chapter. Still, I can't thank you all enough for your understanding and support. You all rock!

See you next time!

-S/L