Friday, November 12, 1993
Mike's relaying of the week's events took the entire morning and then some as he backtracked some details, clarified others, and answered Vanna's questions when needed. Vanna, for the most part, let him speak, only interrupting him when she needed more information or if something he said didn't add up. The coffee table now sported several take-out boxes of half-eaten Chinese food scattered between the magazines and the coffee mugs. The remains of a few dead cigarettes filled the ashtray.
Vanna worked on her second cigarette as Mike nearly finished his third. The nicotine soothed him and kept him focused as his story finally cycled back to that morning.
"...And then I found that the damn rabbit was plugged in all night," Mike said, bitterly. "That's why my power kept draining so fast."
"And after that long talk with Puppet and god knows what else," Vanna said, flicking a bit of ash into the tray, "no wonder you look exhausted."
She took another drag, pondering a bit. She still wasn't sure how much of it she believed, but her promise and her own strange experiences a few hours ago kept any disproving words in check. Vanna perked suddenly, a thought coming to mind.
"That actually reminds me," she said, the smoke dancing with her words as she exhaled.
"About what?"
"Something you said earlier. That the things that chased you looked different."
After a moment of silence, Vanna glanced over at him. Mike simply stared ahead at the blank TV, his cigarette hovering partway to his lips. He frowned at his haunted reflection and looked away, lowering his hand to flick away a bit more ash.
"They were…" he started.
Like waking from a dream, once he stopped thinking about the hallucinations, the details faded from his mind. Mike mentally walked himself through the morning's horrors, recalling what he saw. They came back, piece by piece: sleeker shapes and different colors. Red circles on their cheeks. Bodies that shone with plastic, very much like...
"...Toys," Mike said quietly, his eyes widening a little.
Vanna quirked a brow.
"What do you mean?"
He went quiet again and turned away from her, suddenly interested in one of her ballerina trinkets.
"...Nothing."
"Mike," Vanna said firmly. "Be honest with me. What do you mean?"
She watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips to take a long drag, intentionally ignoring her. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but Vanna caught the look of pain that crossed his face, how it quickly disappeared with the smoke that left his lips.
Toys…
Vanna sucked on her own cigarette as she mulled over that word. Animatronics that looked like-
Her eyes widened a little as the penny dropped. That old place...weren't the models there called Toys? And if he was thinking of that old place, then...
"Oh. ...Oh, Mike…"
She caught his sudden interest in the floor, his shaking hand tightly clutching the remaining stub of his cigarette. Vanna shifted a little closer to him.
"Where he…?"
Mike slowly nodded. He took one last drag of his cigarette, then smothered the rest in the ashtray. He then reached up to rub his temples, though if it was fatigue or trying to force something back, she couldn't tell. Either way, Vanna decided to drop it. She watched her friend sit up a little, debating on whether or not to stand.
"...I should probably get to bed," Mike muttered, changing the subject.
Vanna shoved the rest of her cigarette into the ashtray, no longer wanting it.
"Good idea," she agreed. "Think you can sleep?"
He started to stand, then gave up, settling back into the couch.
"I don't know. Maybe."
Vanna glanced over to her VHS player to check the time. It was almost 3:00pm. She turned back to Mike. He already sank back into the throw pillows, the cloth and stuffing practically devouring him. Vanna pushed herself from the couch and quickly busied herself with closing some of the take-out boxes.
"You can stay here," she offered. "You're already practically sleeping on my couch."
Vanna got up to put boxes in the fridge, once more utilizing the time to give him space. She slowly came back to retrieve the empty ones to throw away. On her second return to the couch, Vanna noticed that he never answered her, that the room became oddly silent.
"...Mike?"
She circled the couch until she saw him again. Mike hadn't moved, save for his head lolling to one side against the couch cushions. Vanna admittedly felt relieved to see his chest rising and falling. It seemed that last night's events and this morning's stress finally caught up to him.
Vanna smiled a little. Looked like he was taking her offer this time. She carefully slipped off his shoes, then helped Mike lie down properly. He moved with her, a soft groan escaping his lips. Vanna got him settled and pulled one of her throws over his shoulders. She then took a seat on the other end of the couch, her remote in hand. The old TV whined a little as she turned it on and lowered the volume.
Vanna flipped the channel to a trashy soap opera, then settled down, trying to let her thoughts decompress for a short while. She occasionally shot a glance at Mike, content enough to keep an eye on him.
No matter how much she tried to immerse herself in crazy characters and ridiculous plot lines, Vanna's mind continued to cycle back to the morning's conversation, of the routine Mike went through each night, holing himself up in that office and defending himself from the Fazbear characters. That her past, and his, had something to do with what was happening now.
She checked on Mike again, relieved every time she saw his eyes closed, that he was getting even a little rest. Vanna carefully leaned over to better see him. The lines of fear started to return, highlighting the dark circles around his eyes, the thicker stubble forming around his face. Vanna gently moved a bit of hair from his face, then ran a hand over his cheek to try to ease those lines of pain.
"I promise," she said softly, "you won't be alone tonight."
Only the soft, gentle sound of his breathing answered her. Vanna gently kissed his temple, then carefully shifted back onto the other end of the couch, setting her legs right behind his. She rested her head against the armrest in time for a laugh track from the TV to catch her attention. Vanna looked over at Mike one more time before she turned back to the soap opera, trying once more to let it drown out her thoughts.
Data retrieved.
07/15/1983 02:27:49pm
A man in a security uniform ran forward. His face blurred as it passed. The image on the old footage barely caught the blue eyes and flecks of thin blond hair poking out from under his hat.
Re-engaging prior retrieval.
Retrieving corrupted files...
Charge: 100%
Charge complete.
Auto update date and time: 11/12/1993 04:47:07pm
Standby mode engaged.
Re-engaging retrieval.
Standby mode disengaged.
Facial recognition engaged.
Auto update date and time: 11/12/1993 07:54:44pm
Uploading known database.
Searching…
Match found.
File 07/15/1983 02:27:49pm
Facial recognition match: 70.6%
Match undetermined.
Engaging search for comparable file.
ERROR: Corrupted data.
Attempting to retrieve.
Retrieval processing.
Re-engaging prior retrieval.
Retrieving corrupted files...
He entered the building as he usually did, just after 9:45pm. Normally by now, the cooks and waitstaff finished the base tidying up and headed out the door. He'd tell them hello as they passed by, exchange a friendly word or two, then bid them a good night and get right to it. Tonight, the door jingled to an empty room. Due to the necessary repairs earlier, the day staff got to the clean-up a lot sooner.
Perhaps he should have entered later, closer to when Mike got in. Not like there would be much to tidy up before the night shift.
The dining room still gleamed after he cleaned it up last night. Both stages hid the animatronics from sight behind their starry purple curtains. Over the years, the janitor learned the main stage had a mind of its own about whether they remained open or shut, and therefore paid them little heed. In the alcove by the bathrooms, the wall had been taken down completely, with three old video game cabinets now completely visible. Their subjects mimicked the stage placement: Bonnie, Freddy, and Chica games all in order. The overhead light in that alcove had been fixed too, showing the games still needed to be wiped down, and the floor around them cleaned.
Knowing the work to be done, the janitor made a quick run down the west hall to the supply closet.
As he got the closet door open, he heard another set of footsteps behind him. The janitor turned around, half-expecting Mike. The sight of the security uniform and gold badge relieved him at first, only to fade once he registered the broad chest, towering height, and confident walk of the uniform's owner.
Nothing like the short, wiry kid who barely kept a grip on his sanity.
"How's it been, old-timer?" the guard asked, approaching him.
As the guard came closer, the janitor picked out flecks of blond hair poking out from under his guard hat. Lines of middle age began to show on his face. But it was the man's keen blue eyes paired with his warm, weary smile that allowed the janitor to recognize him almost instantly.
"Well, well," he said. "Long time, no see, Gregory. Haven't seen you much since '86."
The janitor made a quick gesture to the halls around them. While many of the pictures hid them well, signs of old, chipping plaster, fading colors, and even the drawings themselves highlighted the building's age, some of them slowly turning yellow.
"Take a look around and you tell me," the janitor said.
Greg chuckled.
"Yeah," he agreed. "It's certainly changed over the years. Always has, come to think of it."
He glanced over at the cluster of drawings between the supply closet and the security office, his eyes briefly glancing at one towards the top. Greg then turned back to the janitor, offering him a sad smile.
"I'm just happy to see it again before it's gone completely. Lots of good times here. Lots of happy kids."
"Always made it worth it," the janitor said, quietly. "It's why I never left."
He grabbed the broom, then searched the shelves for a rag and a bottle of cleaner. Greg watched him locate the tools of his trade, staying back by the door frame of the closet.
"Kind of wish I never did," he said, "though I'm surprised you're still here, considering."
"Ain't gonna let a few mishaps drive me away," the janitor said, locating the cleaner. "Got too much history invested here to just up and leave. But I do wonder what brought you back."
"I'm subbing for the day shift temporarily," Greg answered. "Been a while since I've done an odd job."
"Called in?" the janitor asked.
"Actually saw an ad in the paper that the night shift was open and thought, 'what the heck', but it looks like the position's already been filled."
"Yep," the janitor replied. "Don't expect it to become available."
The necessary items acquired, the old man stepped out of the closet. Greg moved aside and shut the door for him, then followed the janitor down the hall.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"New kid refuses to be scared off, bless him."
"Scared off?" Greg asked, confused.
"Surprised you ain't heard, considering this place's reputation. Not many folks stick around these days."
The janitor turned back to Greg, eying him carefully, from his blue eyes and strong chin, down to his purple uniform and shiny gold badge.
"Why did you really come back?" he asked.
Greg tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"Been here for over twenty years, Greg," the janitor replied. "I've watched people come and go. When they go, they're gone and don't come back. People don't retread here unless they want something."
The security guard frowned.
"And what could I possibly want?"
"This place tends to leave scars," the janitor said, softly. "Old wounds that don't quite heal. Has a way of bringing people back."
"You would know, old-timer."
The janitor froze, but kept walking, giving no further reaction to the statement. Greg followed, keeping pace with him. The two men cleared the hallway, now passing by the prize corner and Pirate Cove. For a long while, the only sound came from two sets of shoes clacking on hard tile as they wove through the tables to get to the once-hidden alcove.
The video game cabinets stood before them, their screens dead. Dust and dirt surrounded them, untouched save for the footprints from when the janitor and Franklin moved the old animatronic last night, and from the crewmen who removed the rest of the old wall earlier. The janitor set the rag and spray bottle down by the alcove entrance. He then took the broom and started at the back of the little room, sweeping away the dust outline left by the animatronic. Greg once more leaned against the frame, watching him with his arms crossed.
"So why did you stay?" he asked, watching the little swirls of dust gather into a pile.
"Already told you," the janitor replied. "For the kids."
"Kids?" Greg asked, "or kid? That one little girl who-?"
The broom stopped for a second. The janitor shot him a glare, then resumed as if nothing happened.
"...Right," Greg said, quickly getting off the subject.
He watched the bristles shift against the hard tile, at how the dust and dirt pile gradually grew bigger. Slowly, he looked back up at the janitor.
"I saw it," Greg said after a moment. "That suit in the back room."
He was greeted with further silence as the old man moved over to clean between the video game cabinets, practically digging the dirt away. Greg uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the old man.
"...It's because of her, isn't it?" he asked gently.
The janitor ignored him. He set the broom down for a moment and stared at the black and white tile that now poked out from under the dirt. The old man then glanced up at the video game cabinets, at the dust and grime that covered the screens. Greg watched him, more concerned with each deliberate move of avoidance. He reached to place a hand on the old man's shoulder.
"...Is that why you stay?" Greg asked.
The janitor pulled away from him.
"You should go," he muttered. "Waylon don't like it when people stay over their shift."
Greg took the hint with a small nod.
"I'll leave you to it, then," he said, softly, turning to go. "It was nice to see you again…"
He heard the sound of bristles against tile again as he stepped out of the alcove and towards the front door.
"...William."
Summer 1971
The purple curtains hung over the stage, closed and dotted with gold glitter that caught the light. Several other children from Debbie Jefferson's birthday party took over the games, while others finished their pizza slices. The bright colors of the room blurred a bit as she kept her focus on one thing: the little girl ahead of her. Her black pigtails trailed in long ribbons behind her as the skirt of her pale blue party dress bobbed with each hasty step.
"I'm gonna catch you, Vesper!" she exclaimed.
"Nuh-uh!" Vesper called back.
She ducked around a table, picking up pace. Vanna chased after her, trying to catch her twin. Vesper tried to duck around the table, only for her twin to dive at her from behind, her hand outstretched to tag her. Vanna miscalculated, and both girls tumbled onto the hard tile.
"Not fair!" Vesper whined.
"Is so."
Vesper crawled out from underneath her twin. Vanna stood up and brushed down her skirt, before darting off towards the stage.
"You're it!"
"Hey!"
Vesper scrambled to her feet to chase after her twin. With a deep breath and a small cough, she dug her Mary Janes into the tile, her shoes clacking loudly as she tried to catch up to Vanna. Vanna glanced behind her. Even above the noise of the games and the other children laughing, she heard her sister approaching. With a laugh, she made a sharp turn away from the stage and headed back for one of the tables.
"Vanna-!"
Vanna ignored her, wanting to stay ahead of her twin.
"I-" Vesper pulled a fist up to her mouth to cough. "Sl-slow down-!"
The clacking behind her slowed, and her sister's coughing got her attention. Vanna skid to a stop and turned around. Vesper's coughing grew louder, interspersed with gasping, painful noises. Familiar with this, Vanna quickly scanned the room for Mrs. Jefferson. She saw her breaking up an argument between Debbie and another little girl that she didn't know.
"Miss!" she cried. "Vesper needs her air medicine!"
Mrs. Jefferson froze upon hearing that. She quickly shooed Debbie and her friend to go play with a warning to be nice, then turned around to Vanna. Not far behind, she saw Vesper still in a coughing fit.
"Stay with your sister, Vanna," she told her. "I'll be right there."
Vanna nodded and did as she was told. Mrs. Jefferson immediately looked for the small supply bag Mrs. Belrose left when she dropped the girls off to the party. Upon finding it, she dug out the inhaler, and quickly pieced it together. She then hurried over to the twins. Vanna sat down beside Vesper. She was running her hand over her sister's back to try to help with the coughing as their chaperone approached.
Mrs. Jefferson knelt down and carefully placed the inhaler, giving Vesper a quick puff. Upon breathing in the medicine, Vesper's coughing quickly ceased. She took another one, and after a moment, she was breathing normally again. Mrs. Jefferson offered a hand to Vesper and helped her stand.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" she asked.
Vesper slowly nodded.
"What happened?"
"We were playing," Vanna explained.
"Playing what?"
"Tag."
Mrs. Jefferson frowned.
"You're not supposed to run like that," she said. "Why were you running? Do you two need more tokens for the games?"
Vesper shook her head.
"The only games left are over there," she said, pointing over by the stage.
Mrs. Jefferson sighed, but agreed. The only games left were fighting games beyond the maturity of the twins.
"You can sit at the tables and play with your party favors," she suggested, "but don't run."
Neither twin liked that option, but nodded. Mrs. Jefferson caught their shared disappointment.
"We're going to have cake very soon," she said, trying to lift their spirits. "Why don't you two go take a quick walk around the room? We'll probably be ready by the time you finish."
Vanna nodded and took her sister's hand. Vesper took it and slowly tagged along with her.
"And I mean it," Mrs. Jefferson called after them. "No more running."
Behind them, Mrs. Jefferson walked over to their table to put the inhaler away. She then started a round to check on her other young guests. Once out of her earshot, Vesper tugged on her twin's hand. She didn't want to just walk, and she knew her sister didn't, either.
"Hey," she said. "Wanna play hide-and-seek?"
Vanna thought for second.
"Sure."
"Okay. I'm gonna hide!"
"But I wanna hide!" Vanna protested.
"You won tag. I get to hide!"
Faced with this logic, Vanna nodded in agreement.
"Okay," she said. "I'll count to twenty."
She let go of her sister's hand and walked over to the nearest table. She crossed her arms over the edge, and buried her face in them so Vesper knew she wouldn't peek.
"One...two...three…"
She heard her sister's giggle as her Mary Janes clacked against the checkered tile. The other noises around her drowned them out after a few seconds, but Vanna at least knew where to start. She kept counting until she reached twenty, then uncovered her eyes. Upon turning around, she saw the glittering curtains. Over to the left, a rainbow mural covered the wall, a smiling sun shining down on some of the games. At the end of the rainbow, towards a far corner, she saw a door cracked open slightly, leaving a dark gap in the colors.
Vanna took a few steps toward the door, but stopped, remembering that room was off-limits. She decided to look elsewhere for Vesper.
She started with the video game cabinets along the rainbow wall, carefully weaving around other kids as she checked between them. Finding no twin sister there, she tried under the tables and eventually made her way to the glass prize counter. Beside it stood two tall red helium tanks and a bunch of balloons tied to a small Fredbear statuette. The end of each balloon looped around his wrists to keep them in place, and the moveable fingers clutched the strings to make the little statuette appear to hold them.
No Vesper beside the little Fredbear, or behind him.
Vanna tried under the tables again, then the video games on the other side of the room. After checking the girls' bathroom, she tried the small alcove nearby.
Only games and other children.
Vesper was better at this than she thought.
Maybe she moved to another hiding place when she wasn't looking. Vanna checked under the tables again, but still didn't find her sister. With a frown, she wandered around the room, trying to find anywhere else she could have missed.
Her search led her down one of the long halls. To her right, she found an empty supply closet. Further down, to her left, she found a wooden door. Trying the handle showed it was locked. Disappointed, Vanna headed back towards the main room, hoping the other hallway might have something.
Aside from the kitchen and a small office beside it, she found nothing of interest at the end of the hallway, not even another door. Only posters of Fredbear and his bunny friend, some drawings of them tacked up on the walls between the posters.
Vanna headed back into the main area. She surveyed the room, trying to think of where else her sister could possibly hide. Maybe Vesper got bored and came out.
As she walked back toward the party table, her eyes fell upon the stage with its purple curtains coated in gold glitter. Vanna suddenly realized the one place she hadn't looked yet.
She ran over to the edge of the stage, glancing up to the sparkling curtains. They swayed a little, almost beckoning her to come inside. The three steps leading up to the stage practically welcomed her to come forward. Taking a quick glance over her shoulder, Vanna checked to make sure no one saw her. Her other friends were still playing the games, Mrs. Jefferson spoke with a staff member, and the only other waiter was busy collecting plastic glasses and empty pizza trays to take back to the kitchen.
With no one looking, Vanna climbed the steps onto the stage and quickly crawled under the curtains. She saw only darkness, but listened carefully for her twin.
"Vesper?" she asked.
No answer.
The stage around her smelled...strangely sweet, like sugar and strawberries. There was a thickness to the scent, a pleasant vanilla undertone.
Frosting? Cake?
A little bit of light shone through the curtains, enough for Vanna to pick out two tall silhouettes in front of her. Craning her neck, she saw the outline of a top hat and round ears on the one to her right: Fredbear. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she started to pick out his snout, his bowtie. Beside him, she picked out tall ears on the other figure, recognizing it as the yellow rabbit she called Bunny. She never remembered its true name.
Vanna carefully slipped between them, not bothered at all by the dark or the animatronics. The cake smell grew stronger, then faded as she got behind them. If her sister was here, she'd find her. Music began to play, and outside the curtain, Vanna heard a man begin an announcement and urge the birthday party to take their seats.
"Vesper!" Vanna whispered urgently. "Come on, we need to go!"
No answer. The music outside grew louder, and mechanical clicks and whirs began to permeate the stage space. If she stayed any longer, she'd get caught.
"Fine!" Vanna exclaimed. "I'm going. I'm not gonna get in trouble!"
She made her way back to the animatronics, carefully slipping between them. Around her, the clicking and whirring grew louder…
Vanna's eyes shot open, seeing nothing but blurred color. She tried to move, but every nerve froze solid as old, remembered pain shot through her body.
Everything hurt.
Why did everything hurt?
Under her nose, the sweet scents of vanilla cake and strawberry icing still lingered, stronger than before. Normally, the sweetness made her mouth water at the thought of consuming such treats. Right now, all of her saliva glands shriveled back from dryness.
Over the years, her memory of that night came in incoherent flashes between the cake, the darkness, and the game of hide-and-seek that never properly ended. But moments ago, that night came back to her, as fresh in her mind as the day it happened.
Until she woke up.
After a moment, the paralysis wore off. Vanna quickly sat up, taking in a long, harsh breath that ended in a choking cough. She felt the familiar sink of couch cushions underneath her, with her throw pillows at her back. Her eyes watered, and when she reached up to wipe her face, her cheeks were already wet. Vanna rubbed her eyes to dry them. Smudges of mascara and silver eyeshadow covered her fingertips when she pulled them away.
What happened that night after she crawled onto that empty stage?
Why did her body hurt like this?
Vanna registered a bit of noise, then shifting colors. She turned to the side and noticed the TV was still going. After fumbling for a moment for the remote, she turned it off, then slowly took in her living room again. Ballet trinkets, VHS tapes, books. The picture of herself and her sister in their white tutus. A glance at the VHS player showed the time was now 9:34pm.
On the other end of the couch, something long and warm rested against her legs. Vanna leaned forward a little more to better glimpse a purple form gently rising and falling from under one of her throw blankets. At the other end of the couch, Mike remained asleep.
Vanna shifted a bit, leaning over to check on him. He breathed deeply, traces of exhaustion carved over his features. The bags under his eyes still retained their dark color. His fingers tightly gripped one of her throw pillows, clawing into the thick fabric. However long he'd been asleep, Vanna doubted it did him any good.
She carefully settled back against the armrest, not daring to move lest she wake him. Vanna shot Mike another glance, just watching his shoulder rise and fall with his chest. Only his deep, quiet breathing overpowered the sound of her own heartbeat.
He needed to rest, to not go in for another night, having already survived five nights of this shit.
Five nights at Freddy's, where the animatronics came to life and showed him hidden secrets and spoke to him through his thoughts.
And he felt compelled to help them.
To help her.
Her eyes fell upon the ballerina card on the coffee table, before they tilted up to the Fredbear picture on the entertainment center. Vanna closed her eyes, trying to remember more of that night, of hide-and-seek, of the darkness backstage, of her sister's giggles and clacking shoes. Nothing came to mind beyond the smell of cake, Fredbear and Bunny's silhouettes, and the clicking and whirring as the animatronics slowly powered on for the show.
Only lingering bits of pain clued her in that something happened afterwards. Marks on her back burned. Similar pain at her scalp shot over the base of her skull.
An accident.
Her accident.
One that her parents refused to talk about.
Frustrated, Vanna carefully sat up. She slowly reeled her legs in, feeling them slide between the coolness of the couch and the warmth of Mike's back. With extreme care, she lifted one leg over the edge of couch, pressing her toes firmly into the floor. Gripping the armrest, she turned her body to move the other leg up and over her sleeping friend, the movement fluidly completed with remembered grace from her childhood ballet lessons. Once both feet touched the floor, she pushed herself up, then rubbed the rest of the sleep from her eyes.
She glanced back over at the VHS clock, then over to her phone. At 9:39pm, she had plenty of time to give the Sanctuary a heads up...but should she really do this? Vanna shot another glance to Mike. While he remained still, his furrowed brow spoke of troubled thoughts. That alone ended her debate.
Vanna walked over to her phone and picked up the receiver. She dialed a number and listened to four rings before her manager picked up.
"Hey, Felix," Vanna said. "Listen, I'm not going to be in tonight."
"That sucks. What's going on?"
She felt her scars burn again, smelled the cake under her nose.
"...I'm not feeling well," she replied, honestly.
"Sorry to hear that," Felix said. "Feel better, okay?"
"Thanks. I'll make it up to you."
Vanna didn't wait for his reply, just set the phone back in its cradle.
A shifting sound caught her attention. Vanna turned to look at Mike, her heart stopping for a beat. A soft, fragile sound passed his lips, and his body tensed as though in pain. She tiptoed over to his end of the couch and carefully knelt down beside him. Whatever horrifying thing he dreamed of, it passed as quickly as it came.
Vanna gently leaned over and brushed a bit of hair from his face again. Mike made no sound or movement of acknowledgement. Content he'd stay asleep for the moment, Vanna pushed herself back onto her feet and headed for the bathroom, promising herself to be quick, and to keep the door open a crack to listen for him. She needed a shower to clear her head, and to determine how the rest of the night would go.