Trembling hands emerged from darkness, hurriedly grasping the doorknob. Much to their owner's dismay, however, the door was locked, so they traveled into the depths of the pockets of a pair of well-ironed trousers. A tiny yet victorious jingle was heard in the silent night, keys! The journey of the poor, trembling hands was mercifully cut short when the door was opened from inside. One lean, dark haired man stood in the doorway, eyeing the intruder with curiosity.

"Hey gramps!" he called, looking down at the elderly man with a grin on his face, "The place's closed hours ago, you're gonna have to take your grandchildren back home."

Now, Mr Michael Schmidt could approach the youngsters with understanding and care, but getting called "gramps" was a different matter.

"Excuse me, young man, but that is not a nice way to talk to a coworker now, is it." he asked, putting his hands on his hips. The younger man was clearly surprised, "No way..." he whispered.

"Well, Mister..."

"Fitzgerald... Jeremy Fitzgerald."

"Well, Mr Fitzgerald, considering we wear identical uniforms with our name tags on them, I'd say I'm telling the truth here." That was indeed the case, though Mr Schmidt's pants weren't as crumpled as Mr Fitzgerald's, nor was his purple shirt covered with pizza stains like the younger man's. He proudly dusted off some nonexistent dust off his shirt, he did look dashing in purple, if he said so himself.

Unlike Mr Schmidt, Mr Fitzgerald looked like he was about to snap, "Yo gramps, are you even aware of what you got yourself into here?" He pointed an angry finger towards the happy little band of cute animatronics. "Believe me when I say this -'cause I worked the night shift here before- these freaks are too much for you!"

"Ohohoho!" Mr Schmidt let out a hearty chuckle and waggled his finger, "I believe you underestimate me here, Mr Fitzgerald." He paused a moment to ponder, "And why, if you don't mind me asking, are you here if you used to work the night shift?"

"Got moved to the day shift, was about to leave..." the younger of the two replied with a sour expression, "Look, you really should leave; I don't think your heart could handle what's going on around here, I-" he was interrupted by the new night guard, who was checking his watch: "It's past 11 pm, Mr Fitzgerald, I believe your shift has ended some time ago." Mr Schmidt shooed the younger man out of the door before he could utter a word, closed the door gently and locked it. His attention now diverted from the youngster to the animatronics, he sighed contently and walked towards them.

"I remember the times when this place was called Fredbear's Diner," he said with a chuckle, "My kids loved coming here!" He looked around, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips, "And now here I am, for my beloved grandchild! She's a lovely girl, you see, very smart; just started college, in fact!" Even his old, tiny voice showed how proud he was of her, "I used to take her here, she loved this place... You were her favorite, Bonnie," he said, looking up at the huge violet bunny, "And you, Chica, she never stopped talking about how delicious your cupcakes were whenever I took her here!" He checked his watch again, seeing it was nearing midnight already, "Oh gosh, I'd better head down to the security office. I'll be sure to check you all soon, though, I should patrol as the security guard after all!"

Not long after the old man's shaky, short legs carried him to the security office, the clock stuck midnight and the animatronics gained control of their metallic bodies. "Wow," a bored voice called out, "What a boring old man..."