Power source undetected.
Charge: 100%
Auto update date and time: 11/12/1993 10:03:54pm
Retrieval processing.
Running watch_
Running sound_
Running facial_
Running Fredbear_
Awaiting command.
Command received.
Activating standby mode.
Friday, November 12, 1993
Overhead, the door jingle played, welcoming Mike and Vanna into the old establishment. Vanna stepped in first, quickly taking in the old, gleaming floors, the pressed tablecloths and party hats, the fading walls and old posters. Upon approaching the hostess stand, everything suddenly looked…
Bright again.
Brand new.
Unseen children laughed. Familiar beeps and jings and game over music from the video games echoed with the dismembered voices. Towards the back, at the table closest to the backstage area, she saw two figures sitting in the corner by the stage. Vanna took a step closer to try to see them better.
Two boys, both with dark, straight hair, the shorter of the two crying. The older boy protectively held the other close, their shared embrace hiding their faces. Something gleamed at the older boy's right wrist...and with the shine, both boys vanished.
The laughter died, and the colors drained, leaving the old restaurant pale and decrepit once more. Vanna blinked, then glanced over to Mike. She recognized the look on his face from that morning, and knew he saw something too.
"...Did you see them?" she asked, mostly to verify they just shared the same vision.
"Two little boys?" Mike whispered.
Vanna nodded to confirm. Already, she felt her remaining doubts of his story fade, and tried to mentally prepare herself for what else might be in store for them tonight. Mike perked suddenly, hearing a familiar voice gently echo in his mind.
You brought her here.
He immediately looked over to the prize counter, at the glass case and the present box sitting beside it.
"No," he corrected, heading for the box. "She came with me."
A gentle set of footsteps trailed behind him.
"Mike, who are you talking to?"
Mike turned around to Vanna, then glanced around the room, looking for that familiar set of pinprick eyes and edge of a tragic smile. When he confirmed the only other moving creature in the room was Vanna, he looked back at the box.
"Why can't she hear you?"
Before the Puppet could answer, the sound of footsteps on tile put both humans at attention, their heads snapping to the little hallway by the bathrooms. Vanna watched as an old Black man came from there, dressed in old blue coveralls and holding an old rag and bottle of cleaner. He wore an old hat to match his coveralls. A salt and pepper beard inched over his dark chin.
"You're here earlier than usual, ki-"
The janitor stopped to glance up at Vanna, his brown eyes quickly scanning her over. His face lit up for a second, before he shook his head.
"What?" Vanna asked.
"Nothin'. Just an old man's memory gettin' itself confused."
The janitor quickly turned to Mike.
"Wasn't aware you were bringing a friend," he said simply.
"I wasn't planning on it," Mike replied with a frown. "She insisted."
He glanced at Vanna.
"Seems I'm not the only one looking for something."
Vanna moved closer to Mike.
"I'm helping him tonight," she firmly told the janitor, "and before you ask, I know what I'm getting into."
"Do you, now?" the old man asked.
Vanna nodded and turned to Mike.
"We had a long talk."
The janitor nodded and smirked a bit.
"Unorthodox," he said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice, "and definitely against the rules."
"Fuck the rules," Mike said, crossing his arms. "If I'm making it tonight...I'm going to need help."
"Smart," the janitor said.
He looked between them, lingering on Vanna for a moment before he turned back to the night guard.
"But just so we're clear," he continued, "I ain't gonna snitch, but I ain't gonna cover up any mishaps, either. So far as I'm concerned, she was here after I left."
Mike gave him a quick, uneasy nod. Vanna gently put a hand on his shoulder to try to soothe him.
"That's a risk we'll take," she said, looking back at the janitor.
The janitor nodded, then pointed down the hall.
"Left your things in the security office, Mike," he said. "Figured you'd want them if you came back."
Mike instinctively felt at his empty pocket for his badge. Upon finding nothing, he simply nodded again.
"Thanks."
"Now onto some more important matters."
The janitor gestured for them to follow and headed toward the back room. Mike hesitated, then followed, with Vanna matching her pace to his. The three of them silently walked to the employees-only room.
"Not even gonna ask how your night went," the janitor said as they passed by the stage. "If this morning was any indication, those critters ran you through the ringer."
"That's one way of putting it," Mike muttered.
He bit back a yawn and wished he felt more rested than he did. The janitor stopped suddenly, then turned to Vanna, an observant look in his face.
"And I'm guessing you're here because of it," the old man noted. "Keep this one out of too much trouble."
He gestured toward Mike. Vanna glanced at her friend, then turned back to the janitor. She nodded to confirm and gripped her purse tighter as the janitor turned back to Mike.
"I'll get right to it, then," he said. "Mike, that new suit. Did it give you any trouble?"
Mike shook his head.
"No."
Not yet, anyway, now that he knew it needed to charge.
"Didn't mess with it?"
"No."
"Good," the janitor replied. "Don't."
He turned to keep leading them to the back room, occasionally glancing back to ensure they followed. Mike caught tells in his face of a numbness he was only too familiar with, that something haunted the old man. Vanna made sure to take in the room around her as they walked, everything from the position of the curtains to the number of party hats on the tables. She lingered behind Mike a bit, but kept up a decent pace. Mike frowned again, his arms still crossed in front of him as he walked.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I'll get to that," the old man answered. "First off, you were actin' funny 'round it last night. That you saw it somewhere. Still willin' to share?"
Vanna stopped just behind Mike, who now focused solely on the stage curtains beside them. Mike's fingers dug into his sleeves, loosening only when he chose to answer.
"...You said it has history," he said, quietly.
"Yep," came the janitor's reply, "and from what I got last night, you do too."
"He's not the only one," Vanna muttered.
She looked ahead towards the old man, who now disappeared into the back room. For a brief second, she saw a painted rainbow leading into the door. Vanna blinked, wondering if she simply imagined it. When she saw only a gray speckled wall, she dismissed it for the moment, before she realized the janitor never answered her.
Mike started to walk again, his best friend keeping pace right behind him.
"There's not much to tell," he explained, stepping in behind the janitor. "I was babysitting for a birthday party a few years ago. It was there, but it didn't do anything unusual."
"Freddy bit you," the janitor replied. "I remember you said that."
Mike winced and felt his arm throb.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Broke my damn arm."
Vanna entered last. Like before, her eyes scanned the room to try to familiarize herself with it as much as possible. She shuddered a little at all the disembodied heads lining the shelves.
"But that's not important right now," she said, turning to the janitor. "It's the other suit, right?"
The old man nodded and moved behind the table, allowing his younger companions a bit more room. Mike slipped to the side, allowing Vanna to better see the strange yellow Bonnie lying before them.
The feel of plush as her bare arm rubbed against the animatronic's leg. The dark, empty stage. The smell of cake just under her nose.
"Vesper! Come on, we need to go!"
Outside music lured her away. She never found out if Vesper was hiding there.
"Fine! I'm going. I'm not gonna get in trouble!"
Mechanical clicks and whirs. A humming sound of machines powering on.
And then
...
"...Bunny," Vanna whispered.
She stared at its face, almost willing it to answer her. The janitor watched her carefully, as if waiting for something. When Vanna's attention remained on the rabbit, he shook his head.
"Hmm?" the janitor asked.
Vanna glanced up to him.
"That's what we called him," she replied. Vanna examined the wiring poking out of the ragged tears in its face, then down to its chest where a single button barely clung to the animatronic costume. "I don't know if he had another name."
"Called 'er Spring Bonnie backstage," the janitor told her. "To the kids, she was just Bonnie, long before the other one came 'round."
"She-?" Vanna started.
"Who cares what it was called," Mike said, after taking a glance at his watch. "Why was it hidden like that? What happened with that suit?"
"It broke," the janitor said, simply. "Got people hurt. It was retired."
Vanna winced a bit as the back of her head suddenly ached. Mike frowned, his eyes now drawn to the thing's hands.
"How?" he asked, mentally tracing over the fingers.
He noted that a few that missed their tips, with the endoskeleton underneath either bare or broken off in some places.
"Surprised you haven't figured it out yet," the janitor said, softly, "considering you seemed pretty focused on why it has five fingers."
Mike turned to him, looking a little confused.
"Why would it-?"
"I know you're not stupid, kid," the janitor interrupted. "What else has five fingers?"
Mike instinctively looked at his hand and flexed his fingers. He suddenly remembered the strange slots in the animatronic's feet, and how parts of it seemed hollow. Before, he thought that some of the endoskeleton was missing, like some of the fingertips, but now…
"...Are you fucking kidding me?" Mike exclaimed, gesturing towards the decrepit old thing on the table. "It's a costume?!"
With Mike's realization, Vanna quickly grabbed the yellow Bonnie's left hand. Upon lifting it up and bending its fingers, she noticed the precise articulation, how each individual finger could even turn and swivel, allowing a wearer a comfortable grip. Bending back the wrist revealed an empty, hollow chamber in the sleeve, wide enough to comfortably fit a person's arm. She took a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship.
"Yep," the janitor said, sobering a little as the young woman continued to test each finger. "The robot parts can be locked to the sides of each costume piece so someone can wear it."
He went quiet, his expression softening as he mulled over the memory.
"Problem was...they didn't hold very well. Should have stopped after the first incident, but..."
"...Oh, fuck," Mike whispered, quickly putting it together.
Vanna picked up on it half a second later, but the horrible implications of the suit's capabilities took a backseat to what the janitor just said.
"First incident?"
The janitor steeled himself a little, then glanced over at his younger companions. A weariness flickered in his eyes, horror that long since lost its bite, but still left its haunting trace.
"...They wrote it off as an accident," he said quietly. "Fixed it, thought it was fine. Took one more incident to retire it completely."
He looked over the night guard and his friend, and watched the blood drain from both of their faces. Vanna's knuckles turned white as she tightened the grip on her purse. Mike tried to remain composed. The janitor gave them both a somber nod to confirm that horrifying conclusion.
"S'why I told you to be careful," he said, quietly, directly turning to Mike. "Would've told you more, but you were in a bit of a midnight rush."
Mike just gave him a numb nod as Vanna hardly dared to ask:
"...What happened?"
The old man shook his head, then glanced down at the yellow Bonnie's old, torn mask.
At the dead, silver eyes on the lifeless shell before them.
"This one had green eyes," he said, quietly. "Like her. It was hers."
A gesture to the room around them, the empty animatronic heads and tools, the old yellow Bonnie, the open door leading back into the dining room.
"All of this," he whispered. "She never wanted...all of this started with her."
Mike started to say something. The janitor held up a hand.
"I'm gettin' to it," he said. "This place...it was her dream. Opened back in '67. It was called Fredbear's Family Diner before the rebrand."
Mike briefly recalled the articles and the deed he found in Waylon's office as he turned to Vanna. She simply set her purse on the table and gave the old man her fullest attention, her face focused and calm.
"The woman who built this place," the janitor continued, "her name was Bonnie Wickes. Young widow, named the place after her missing husband. Called 'im Freddy-bear, hence...anyway, Bon always wanted kids, but couldn't have 'em herself. So she made a place where she could at least make 'em smile."
A gesture to the yellow Bonnie on the table.
"S'where all the Bonnies got their name. This one was even a girl when she was first showcased, long before the rebrand."
The janitor cleared his throat.
"But nevermind that. Bon spent a fortune on this place, and half of that was just this equipment."
"Why spend that much?" Mike asked. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just confine the damn things to the stage?"
"Wasn't her vision," the janitor replied. "Bon was set in that she wanted mascots that could walk, talk, and play. The problem was the technology. Wasn't advanced enough to do it properly. Even that Disney fella couldn't get his animatronics to move by themselves, and he's got a whole park full of 'em."
Vanna started to examine the suit again.
"So the spring suits were a bit of a way around that?" she asked.
The janitor nodded.
"That's exactly why Bon made 'em double-duty," he said. "They did simple dances onstage and were synced to a soundtrack. Even had some pre-recorded lines programmed into 'em. But to make 'em more lifelike, after every show, they'd 'take a break' to put an actor inside. That way, they could talk and play with the kids until Bon figured out how to make 'em more independent. Which she did, but...well, she never got to see the results in practice."
The janitor carefully lifted one of the arms and bent the costumed hand back, then pointed to a metal piece inside.
"See this?"
Mike grabbed his flashlight and clicked it on to give himself and Vanna a better look. Upon first glance, just inside the costume's wrist, they noticed a round metal piece with a strangely-shaped hole, likely for a very specific key. Parts of a spring appeared underneath it, and further investigation showed metal bars and mechanisms attached not only to the lock, but several of the animatronic parts, many of them partway in place. Mike hoped several of the crusty, reddish-brown spots were simply rust.
"It's a spring lock," the janitor explained. "There are several inside the suit. Needed a special key to open and shut 'em."
"That can't be safe," Vanna said, though she still found herself intrigued with the internal mechanisms.
She briefly wondered how difficult it would be to duplicate them.
"Safety was the first thing Bon thought of," the janitor explained. "Once you put the key in, it won't come out until either the robot parts contracted and locked as a costume, or they're put back. Made a distinct clicking sound either way, and once they're locked in, they don't move."
Mike clicked off the flashlight and turned back to him.
"But they didn't work."
"Did for a few years without a problem."
"What changed?" Vanna asked.
The janitor went quiet for another moment, and gently caressed the yellow Bonnie's head.
"...Not sure," he said, softly. "Like I said...three years, no safety issues. Had weekly maintenance done on 'em. Refitted the spring locks every six months to keep 'em from wearin' down, and did a thorough cleaning while we were at it."
He glanced up at his younger companions.
"I remember that day," he said quietly. "The first time it failed."
Vanna stood at attention, hanging onto his every word. Mike steeled himself a bit, catching the hurt in the old man's tone.
"...It was hot," the janitor said quietly. "Don't remember the exact day, but it was the end of July, maybe beginning of August. It was in '70, though; I remember that much. Anyway, Bon…"
He took a careful breath.
"...She dipped outside for a bit, wearin' this suit. Kids were in the parking lot with little these squirt guns they got from their favor bags. Bon was tryin' to call 'em in for cake, and it took a few minutes to round everyone up."
The janitor closed his eyes, his hands moving to press against the table for support.
"...They all go back inside, they have cake and ice cream while Bon and I did the birthday dance for 'em. The birthday girl was opening her presents, when Bon just..."
He opened his eyes to silver ones staring back.
"...I don't know how to describe it," the janitor whispered. "One second, things were fine. The next, it was like...like she was choking on her own spit. Lots of moist, painful sounds...I distracted the kids while some of the others got her to the back to get her out. Moved the party back outside, and just tried to keep them out of the way."
The somber look in his eyes said all it needed to. Vanna carefully reached to put a hand on his.
"...She didn't make it," she said quietly.
"No," the janitor said, giving a gentle shake of his head. "Worse, no one's ever quite figured out what happened. We had our mechanic look at the suit, and he determined it was working properly. Best guess was the moisture from sweat and the water guns loosened the springs."
Mike looked over the suit again.
"...Is that why you told me to be careful?" he asked.
The janitor nodded.
"It's supposed to be locked in its animatronic mode," he said quietly, "but just in case...I didn't want another accident. Don't know what it is about this suit, but anytime it shows up...it's supposed to be retired, but it always comes back. And whenever it comes back…"
Both Vanna and Mike gave a solemn nod of understanding.
"...Disaster follows," Vanna finished, her voice hardly above a whisper.
Her body ached. Cake lingered under her nose. She heard her sister's shoes clacking on tile. In the corner of her eye, she saw Mike grip his arm again.
"It's affected both of you, somehow," the janitor continued, his face softening as he glanced to Vanna. "That's why you're here tonight, and that's why I'm not going to stop you. You both need answers, and from what I know of what happens after hours, it's probably the best way to get 'em."
His face suddenly became more stern as he gave each of them a long, piercing glance.
"But you two look out for each other, you hear? Keep each other safe."
Vanna put a hand on Mike's shoulder.
"We will," she promised.
Her strong grip said enough that she intended to shoulder most of that responsibility. Mike gave a weak nod and checked his watch solely to break away from the janitor's stern gaze.
"We have five minutes to midnight," he said.
"Noted," the janitor answered. "You two get to the office; I'll lock up."
He turned to go. Vanna quickly spoke up.
"Before you do," she said, "I have one question."
The old man turned to her.
"What about?" he asked.
"...Fredbear's, 1971," Vanna said, quietly. "...My sister. She just…"
That same haunted weariness from before crossed the old man's face as the janitor picked up on it.
"...Disappeared?"
Vanna nodded, disliking the sudden awkward silence that followed.
"...We never found out what happened to her," the janitor said, quietly. "Combed every inch of this place. She was just-"
"-Gone," Vanna whispered.
Her face fell as she suddenly became interested in one of the spare Chica masks on the shelf beside her. Mike gently nudged her arm, urging her to leave with him.
"We need to get to the office," he said, keeping his voice down. "We don't have much time."
Vanna nodded in agreement and stepped out behind him. She readjusted her purse as she walked with him.
"Just tell me what you need me to do," she said.
The janitor followed behind them.
"I know you both are lookin' for answers, but you listen to Mike, understand? He'll keep you out of trouble."
Vanna gave him a quick nod. Mike simply gestured for her to follow him, then started to explain how he used the flashlight to check the halls, and that they would each take one door to watch in order to save power. As they passed Pirate Cove, the janitor dug out his keys to lock down the building, listening for their retreating footsteps.
"Old wounds," he said to himself.
The door jingle let Mike and Vanna know that they were now alone in the building. The two of them approached the prize counter, and the giant present box beside it. Vanna gently gripped Mike's arm to stop him.
"Wait," she said. "I still have one more thing to do."
Mike gave her a confused look, but when he saw the present box, he knew what needed to be done. He stopped, watching as Vanna carefully reached into her purse and pulled the ballerina card from the front pocket. She then approached the large present box and lifted the lid just enough to slide the card into place, wedging it in tightly.
Their footsteps resumed, along with Mike verifying tonight's game plan with Vanna.
Only when the two humans were safely in the office did the little card slip inside the present box.