It was a dark night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. A storm had been forecast, but the weatherman had clearly been wrong, since there were clear skies overhead.

Inside the unlit establishment, Freddy chuckled to himself - leaning back in a dining chair as he browsed through some funny memes on Freddit. "Ha-ha," he laughed at the fortieth joke about something purple in a row, not quite understanding it himself. It was just as he was moving his thumb to give the post an upvote that Foxy came skidding around the corner. "My lord, Foxy!" the robot bear gasped, "You might give me a heart attack one of these days!"

"Aye, ye have me apologies," Foxy seemed out of breath, "But there's something... ye best be lookin' at."

"What's the matter, chum?" Freddy put his phone down on the table beside him, then rose to his enormous full height.

"Well... y'see... it's about Scott, me matey."

"Yes, what about him?"

"He appears to have retired, Fred."

"What?" Freddy gasped, "Come again?"

"The Twitter hordes marked 'im as their next prey. Aye, tis a sad day."

"Scott retired over a silly social media platform? That can't be right!"

"Seems they found out he was a Republican."

"And..?"

"Well, that's pretty much the gist of it," Foxy scratched his chin with his razor-sharp hook, "Some o' the things they're sayin' to 'im ain't nice, neither."

"Show me."

"It's best I don't, Fred," the pirate looked away, "Mostly death threats, actually."

"Then it's settled. Foxy! Tonight, you and I ride to tear down Twitter!"

"Ye can count on me!"

. . .

"I love profiteering from the spread of hatred!" announced Jack Dorsey, CEO of Twitter as he sat in his futuristic office chair, counting a stack of dollar bills - all while illuminated by the menacing red glow of the bulb overhead. His glowing crimson eyes looked over over the city below when he was done. "First I'll take over the internet, then the rest of the world!" he cackled madly.

Then, there came a knock as the tall doors at the other end of his office.

"What? Who is it?" Jack demanded, not bothering to turn in his seat.

"S-Sir, there's a Mister Fazbear here to see you!" came the voice of Jack's reluctant secretary.

"Ugh!" Jack rolled his eyes in disgust, "I have no appointments for today! Tell him to go away, or I'll call the Thought Police! And when you're done, give yourself a pay reduction!"

Instead of the subservient "yes sir" he was expecting, Jack was met with a deafening thud. He spun in his chair, shooting up to his feet. "There's nowhere to run, Mister Dorsey!" Freddy pointed his finger at the villain dramatically.

"Aye!" Foxy agreed, dashing in after his ally, "We 'ave ye cornered!"

"And what do you intend to do?" Jack challenged, a sly glint in his eyes.

"Shut down your malicious machine of malice at once," Freddy ordered, "And offer an official apology to Scott Cawthon on behalf of all Twitter-progressives!"

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll use me hook to gut'cha like the pig ye are!" Foxy announced, raising his attached weapon.

"Come and try it," Jack smirked evilly. He yelled, then grabbed his desk from beneath with both hands and threw it at the two robots.

"Look out!" Foxy yelled, dashing at Freddy. He managed to tackle the bear out of the way, letting the desk shatter against the wall. "Ye alright, Fred?" he asked.

"I'm just fine, pal. Let's show this creep what being so despicable gets him!"

With that, the pair attacked. Foxy ran ahead, slashing at Jack with his hook and Freddy took point - ready with his microphone. Laughing, Jack leapt back to avoid Foxy's strike, then batted Freddy's weapon of choice away as he threw it. "You're both too weak to defeat me..." he boasted. In an instant, he was behind them both - a sparking energy blast primed in his open palm.

Before either of Jack's automated adversaries could react, he fired his energy blast. The force of the blast send them both through the window, where they fell to the street below. "Pathetic," Jack spat. It wasn't until he heard the distinct sound of whirring helicopter blades that he turned once more. His eyes shot wide open as an attack helicopter rose into view; with both Freddy and Foxy standing inside.

Raising his hand and showing Jack his middle finger, Freddy laughed. Then - from the cockpit - came Foxy, armed with a four-barelled tactical rocket launcher. Jack crossed his arms over his chest to block the incoming rocket, but it was too little too late and he exploded along with his cool chair as Foxy fired.

"Thanks for the help, Springtrap," Freddy called to the flying vehicle's pilot.

Turning his head, the rabbit offered a wide smile. "Anytime," he said, "Just remember that I always come back."

Foxy shot Freddy a confused glance, which Freddy met with an identical look. Then, they both hopped back into Jack's office. The CEO in question was sprawled on the singed carpet, clinging to life. Grabbing him by the collar, Freddy demanded, "Last chance, scumbag! Delete Twitter!"

Laughing, Jack managed to cough out, "Don't you get it? It's not Twitter itself. It's the disgusting, slimy, self-entitled userbase that propels the hatred. I just profit from it..."

"Then perhaps we can meet in the middle," Freddy offered, "Share with Foxy and I the IP address of every user that harassed Scott Cawthon over this ludicrous controversy."

"Never!"

"They did the same to Scott," Foxy chimed in, "And 'sides, I might think about sparing ye if ye do."

"R-Really?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, matey."

Jack fell silent for a moment. He snapped his fingers, summoning a printed document containing all the information Foxy requested. "There," he sighed as Freddy took it, inspected it, and verified it.

"Foxy, the pleasure's all yours," Freddy smiled, standing and backing away from the defeated CEO.

"B-But you promised!"

"Nah," Foxy pulled a handgun given to him by Springtrap. "I said I'd think about it," he added, training the barrel between Jack's eyes, "Jack Dorsey, consider ye-self cancelled."

After the gunshot, Freddy folded his arms. "Looks like we got a lot of work to do, Foxy," he pointed out.

"Aye. But it shan't be an issue for us, Fred."

"You're goddamn right."