Chapter One – A Returning Problem

It had been a while since Clara had last had to deal with a situation like this. In all honesty, she had rather assumed such things had stopped happening when the old Freddy's went under, and yet here the proof of it was right in front of her. The fact it had happened at all in the Pizzaplex, a building able to fit just about every single one of the franchise's previous pizzerias under its sprawling roof and with an almost comical number of doors requiring a plethora of different access passes to open, only made it more baffling.

Here, in a restroom about as far from the outside world as was possible without going into the utility tunnels, a pair of long-legged pelicans had not only managed to get in but had brought in enough material to build a nest. A nest that contained eggs, meaning that her attempt at escorting the birds off the premises had resulted in a brief scuffle that had sent her fellow night-shift janitor hurrying out of the room, followed by the current state of affairs – a grinding stalemate between the aggressive avians and a fifty-something lady with a mop too stubborn to back down any further than the doorway. Both sides were doing their utmost to break that stalemate and chase off their adversary without sustaining injury, and getting nowhere. Fortunately, while Clara herself was too stubborn to cede ground and go looking for help, Richard subscribed to the opposite philosophy and had fallen back in good order to seek reinforcements for a swift and decisive offensive.

That was to say, he had gone to ask one of the animatronics to walk in, pick up the nest as gently as possible, and walk out with it, under the rationale that if the nest itself were moved the birds would follow.

"Oh dear," a deep, kindly voice behind her said as the animatronic in question came thundering to a halt in the doorway. "Just how much did you aggravate them? They seem very unhappy about this."

Clara adjusted the mop to fend off yet another attempt to bite her, not sparing Freddy a glance. "They were like this from the moment we opened the door and found 'em in here. Now, scoop that nest up and... I don't know. Stick it on the roof maybe."

"Are you sure that is a good place to put it? I am no ornithologist, but that looks like a species that nests in wetlands."

"Have you seen any wetlands within ten miles of this place?! The closest thing we've got is the golf course!"

There was a pause as the bear pictured the kind of chaos that could result from making the pelicans Monty's problem. "I see your point. The roof it is, then."

Slowly, carefully, Freddy walked through the door and toward the nest. The birds were upon him immediately, beating their wings and clacking their beaks furiously at this new and profoundly unnatural intruder in hopes of scaring it off. He ignored them as best he could, stopping briefly whenever they got too close so he didn't risk them catching feathers in moving joints.

The nest itself was a mass of sticks, grass and leaves woven together quite solidly. Its solidity, thankfully, was structural as well as aesthetic, and after a couple of false starts he managed to slide his hands underneath it, lifting the whole construction, eggs and all, with the utmost care. Now, with his proximity to the eggs, the birds became more frantic in their efforts and began outright attacking him. Richard's request made a lot more sense all of a sudden – one of the janitors moving the nest would risk being knocked over, but half a ton of metal and ceramic-polymer casing could transport it in much greater safety.

Out of the corner of his eye Freddy spotted Clara as he turned, the old janitor having taken advantage of the pelicans' focus on him to sidle around behind them to shoo them out with mop and spray-bottle of water. She needn't have bothered. They were intent on forcing him to put the nest down, and would probably follow as far as they had to to do just that.

Haltingly and with no less care, he left the room and began to follow the route he had mentally marked out to the roof access behind the prize counter. The sole fire escape in the building, a small part of him chipped in, though from the look of things not for long.

Richard was ahead of him, making sure the path was clear of obstructions and warding off the many hapless Staff bots before they could blunder in, with Clara bringing up the rear, mop still held at the ready in case the birds decided to cut their losses and split. Behind her the bot she had taken the mop from trailed at a distance of a couple of paces, waiting with uncomprehending patience for it to be returned. All in all, it was a rather amusing little procession.

By the time they reached the roof and set down the nest somewhere relatively sheltered from the wind – as far as was possible on the flat expanse – an hour had passed and the procession had gained several temporary followers, those being the doggedly persistent map bot and every single security bot they had met along the way. As annoying as they had been, staring down the birds and blaring alarms every step of the way, they had at least hemmed the pelicans in somewhat. Right now they were probably collected around the VIP lounge's entrance stuck in a traffic jam of their own making as their attempts to return to their patrol routes were confounded by collisions with other Staff bots.

Most of the time spent had been from Freddy's slow, careful pace, especially while trying to traverse stairs while being attacked without losing his balance, but there was also the matter of a power outage forcing them to find a new route as the automated roller door they would otherwise have passed with no issue became an obstacle. Those were becoming more frequent lately, and it wasn't clear whether it was a problem with the grid or the result of ongoing electrical work within the Pizzaplex itself.

"Well... at least that's over now," Richard remarked as the group, sans birds, walked back down the stairs, looking forward to the tedium that had been all too common as of late. "Next time, can we just... y'know, call animal control or something?"

"You're the one who wanted to shoo them out in the first place." Clara griped, making an unsuccessful attempt to push through the throng of Staff bots.

"Yeah, but I kinda thought you'd, uh, got a plan for it. Y'know, after you mentioned it had happened before."

"Nope. It happened once, and the only other person to try and deal with the issue was the manager. We just left them alone in the end, and a while later they up and vanished." There was a pause as she considered this a little more. "Come to think of it, there wasn't any sign of them getting in that time either, and they were never seen outside the restroom..."

Freddy gave her a quizzical look, or at least the closest his rigid features could manage. "Are you saying they simply popped into existence in that specific room?"

She shrugged, waiting as the security bots gradually managed to file out. "Could be. Stranger things have happened."

"Such as?"

"At that particular location? Ceiling pizza, weird shadow people, anything to do with the ball pit... oh, and a little bit of subsidence that had the building end up somewhere down below us."

There was a pause as the animatronic processed this. "Dare I ask about... ceiling pizza?"

"Not much to tell there. It was a pretty normal pizza, sauce, pepperoni, cheese... just stuck to the ceiling was all." Clara shoved the last couple of security bots out of the way and tossed the mop over to the bot she had taken it from. "Only remember it because we – and let's be clear, by 'we' I mean I did all the work while everyone else stood around giving their opinion – had to damn near chisel it off. If the green pepperoni didn't put me off oldschool Freddy's pizza, seeing the cheese stick like that would have."

The break room was her next port of call. It was hardly official, admittedly, just one among the many backrooms of the Pizzaplex with a couple of spare tables and chairs set up in it, along with a coffee machine. The only really special things about it were its relatively central location in the building, the number of doors leading in and out of it, and the wide, open vent duct set into its ceiling.

A duct that was open primarily because of frequent visits from the animatronic currently hanging out from it.

Right now only their head, casually resting upside-down, and some of the first torso were visible. Much like an iceberg, the Mangle kept the majority of their bulk hidden away within the ventilation system, keeping tabs on occurrences within the Pizzaplex to the best of their considerable capability. Also like an iceberg, they had a knack for turning up at the most inopportune times and putting a sizeable hole in other peoples' plans for the rest of their shift.

Clara could only wonder what that was going to be this time. The untidy heap of paperwork taking up most of one of the tables probably factored into it, since it hadn't been there earlier. She dragged one of the chairs over, sitting backward on it and leaning on the backrest as the single glass eye behind the machine's scuffed plastic mask tracked her movements.

"Well? What is it this time?"

"No luck catchin' them swans then?" It wasn't Mangle's preferred voice – by the sounds of it it was a clip from one movie or another, one of a myriad the vent-dweller occasionally threw into a conversation – but the flat, synthesised and vaguely feminine tone that followed was. "more seriously tho how did those birds even get in there. none of the cameras caught them and they couldn't have come in through the vents. i'd have known." Clara thought she could make out an undercurrent of irritation at this. Not knowing things seemed to aggravate Mangle.

"No idea. The pizzeria here before this had the same thing happen, and nobody saw those pelicans get in either." She scratched the back of her head idly. "Half tempted to have a look at the plans for this building and see whether the old restroom lines up with the new."

"hmph. we'd better check the roof in a week or so just in case they vanish without trace. and by we i mean anyone other than myself i'm a busy machine and have books to balance." They spun their head around so it was the right way up and ploughed on. "anyway speaking of plans i may or may not have intercepted some stuff from management vis a vis: things to bear in mind going forward. first of which is power management because as it is there's not much money coming in and the electric bill needs cutting. and also the power company hiked their rates again. long and short is enjoy having decent lighting while it lasts because starting next week a power saving mode should be implemented for night time (between 10pm and 6am) meaning: lights will be dimmed in most areas most attraction stuff will be switched off and most importantly most of the roller doors won't be automatic. daycare is an exception. rockstar row also."

"Fine by me. Should've been in place from the start, frankly."

"and don't we all know it. small note on the lights thing: it'll be dim enough that the daycare attendant can operate in either mode so try not to freak out if you bump into moon in a dark alley or something. point the second is there's going to be a lot more construction work going on during the day while the building is brought up to code or at least given a few more fire exits so it can maybe pass an inspection. there's other stuff included in that but its a different kettle of fish and i'll elaborate on it later." A long, overly-articulated arm dropped out of the vent and gestured to the heaped paper on the table. "and then there's this. so funny story y'know the guy who's been pulling double shifts and dozing through most of the night ones? yeah he's gone off on holiday (surprised he didn't do so earlier frankly poor bastard deserves a break) and that means management's finally gotten round to looking through the night guard job applications. now technically speaking they're supposed to go through a sorting algorithm to filter out the obvious duds and in all fairness that is exactly what has happened since i did it instead but. here's the thing: i trust your judgement. also you've got a lot of relevant experience to the franchise and probably know all the red flags off by heart. so what i would respectfully request you do if you can spare the time is to go through these and give a second opinion of sorts on them. sort them into three piles maybe – ones that look good ones to toss out of hand and an 'i don't know' pile because nothing's ever that neat."

The politeness with which Mangle put forward the request, not to mention the fact that it was a request rather than an order, immediately made Clara suspicious. The vulpine amalgamation was loath to speak to anyone as if they were on even footing; they far and away preferred to affect an air of superiority.

"You're being awfully nice about this," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"...would you believe i've been reading manuals on how to be a better boss?"

"No. The dross you see in that kind of book is far more slimy and patronising, and infested with buzzwords." She relented a little and rolled her eyes. "Still, it's a decent enough idea I guess."

"of course it's a good idea it's one of mine."

Elsewhere, Gregory was doing some redecorating. For what felt like a very long time since the night he'd gotten locked in while the band, hacked and crazy, hunted him, he'd been using the security office above Fazerblast as a place to sleep while he stayed in the Pizzaplex. It hadn't been an ideal arrangement for a number of reasons, foremost being that it had been Vanny's preferred hideout, so while it had been more or less the only place outside the Daycare that had something resembling a bed it was hard for him to shake the feeling of unease that permeated the room by association. That was changing, however.

There was no shortage of odd little hidey-holes around the building, ranging from small alcoves to full rooms tucked out of the way behind concealed doors, and this one was – for the time being, at least – his. Of all people, Roxy had been the one to suggest it, no doubt having seen through the false wall that made up its entrance with ease. It wasn't much to look at, a fairly small room with some false branches probably intended for an attraction that never got made and an old-fashioned TV set like some of the ones he'd seen at the dump.

Again, that was changing. With the temporary night guard on holiday, the only people looking at the cameras were himself and maybe Foxy, making moving things around to the room much less risky. Things like an actual, honest-to-goodness bed for a start. The exact details of how a bed, mattress, and bedclothes had been acquired hadn't been elaborated on, but it sure beat a sleeping bag on a mattress that might as well have been filled with rocks. Admittedly, he'd slept on worse things than that. He'd have trouble getting used to cardboard and newspaper again if this all went south.

Even so, Gregory wasn't really expecting this to last. Freddy had taken him under his wing, sure, and the other nocturnal denizens of the Pizzaplex seemed fully willing to let him live there, but... it all seemed too good to be true. Not to mention he'd overheard Freddy talking with some of the others about finding him somewhere better to live. Adoption, maybe, or an orphanage if he was really unlucky, he suspected, and still he could understand where the bear was coming from with his concern. Gregory's exploits had really hammered home to him just how rickety the bones of the building were underneath the facade of a modern, high-tech building. Even if corners hadn't been cut at every turn during construction, there was still this specific spot's history of subsidence that had, apparently, led to two previous Freddy's pizzerias falling into a sinkhole, one after another.

He trusted Freddy to have his best interests at heart without screwing him over though. There weren't many... well, any, really, he could say that for.

With that, he pushed those thoughts to one side and focused on the room. His room. It was a glorified janitor's closet, but for the first time in his life, here was a room that was his, with his stuff in it. His backpack full of various things he'd found before coming here, the flashlight he'd technically stolen from the Daycare, the Fazerblaster he'd won fair and square, duct taped vest sensors notwithstanding, and a collection of Fazbear-brand clothing that would probably be profoundly embarrassing in the outside world if not for that fact that they were actual. Clean. Clothes. For now, life was looking good, and only an idiot wouldn't enjoy it while it lasted.

He'd ask Freddy about the birds later.