Okay. First off, thanks for the reviews my dudes.

'Robbie' came from 'Robin'. It's pretty unisex, actually.

Second, if Robbie didn't stop to listen to Foxy whack at Tryss, she would have heard Chica enter the office. Being blind only enhanced her other senses, like most, if not all, blind people. That's why Freddy's hired her. Also, blind = less power usage.

Hope this clears things up for those of you wondering.

I don't own Freddy's.


Robbie stepped off the bus with a yawn. Five hours in near terror had made her extremely tired, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. At least Chica was nice.

She mounted the stairs to her apartment, almost stopping at the wrong door in her exhaustion, and wrestled her keys out of her pocket.

"Can't believe they don't warn people about that," she grumbled. "And there are four of them."

"Four of what?"

Robbie recoiled from the door, readying to throw her keys, then realized it was just her boyfriend. Letting out a nervous chuckle, she whacked at him with her free hand. "Don't scare me like that!"

He laughed, deflecting her blow with ease. "Stop being so easy to scare!"

She stuck out her tongue and pushed past him, hanging up her keys and running to her room to change.

She closed the door gently and tugged off her work clothes.

She walked up to what she assumed was her dresser. Robbie felt along the sides and bottom before confirming, yep, that's my dresser.

She pulled out a top, not exactly sure of the color, and brushed her hand over it. There was little embellishment, as she preferred, and seemed decent enough. As agreed, Andrew could putter around for a few hours while she slept, and then they would go out.

She put the shirt on with a sigh and collapsed in bed. Clearly she didn't anticipate the murder bots, and now didn't know if she could get up on time.

"Ah, whatever." She mumbled into her pillow. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

Seeking out the nearest stuffed animal, Robbie tiredly scratched its head and cuddled it close. "At least you won't try to kill me, right?"

The plush didn't answer. She didn't expect it to, but it was a relief. She might not have been able to stop herself from screaming.


Smoke lightly wafted up from the campfire as her father finished telling a story. Robbie turned to the indistinct yellow blob beside her, grinning. "Aren't my dad's stories the best? I keep telling him to write them down because I think other people would love them, but he says he doesn't want to."

Chica's bubbly laugh rang out. "He doesn't have to, silly! If Tryss wrote all her stories down and shared them, she might die of embarrassment!"

Robbie tilted her head. "Tryss writes?"

"Yep! She says she enjoys it, even if most of her stories won't be seen by a lot of people."

"It's just because she's shy," Bonnie interjected, startling Robbie. "That, and she has a knack for writing things she couldn't possibly know. Like, exactly how to fix any issue with Freddy, despite rarely, if ever, working on him."

"Didn't she write 'bout 'ow to maintain springlock suits, despite never so much as touchin' one?" Foxy added.

"Or the time she wrote a code that would have made Blu do the Macarena whenever she played the right music?"

"She did?" Bonnie laughed. "I would pay to see that! The bratty Toy deserves it!"

"Bratty Toy?" Robbie echoed. "What do you mean by that?"

"The lad be a right terror," Foxy explained. "Treated us like trash, an' constantly tried to get Snow to abandon us. Once, the lad broke all the toilets to get back at Tryss, but Snow set 'im right."

"Yeah, I remember that." Tryss called. "I also remember taking his head off for it."

Robbie leapt up, turning in the direction of the tent to see... Tryss. Not an indistinct blob like the animatronics around her, but a fully formed figure.

She was leaning against a pine tree, looked about Robbie's height, and had rather long red hair. And by long, she meant it. It reached halfway down her thighs! Her face was marred by a massive scar on the right side that stretched from her hairline to her chin. Another scar peeked out from the collar of her shirt, resting a couple inches under her collar bone. She was dressed all in black, tank top, pants, and boots.

Tryss laughed, spinning a little as she came closer and flashing another wicked scar on her shoulder. "You like it? I had to change some things so you wouldn't be scared, but this is what I really look like."

Robbie could only stare for a minute, speechless with shock. Tryss seemed a little too sane to really be in a dream, but that had to be the case, right? There was no other way Robbie would be able to see her.

"Are you okay?" Tryss asked, pulling closer. "This is still a dream you know."

"It is?" Robbie finally managed. "How can you tell?"

"Because you can see." Tryss answered simply. "You aren't wearing the blindfold. Your eyes are beautiful, by the way."

Robbie's hands flew up to feel for the blindfold, surprised to find it truly wasn't there. "How... what... just who are you? What are you?!"

Tryss scratched her chin, looking embarrassed. "Well, that's kind of a long story. You saw some of it earlier, with him."

"How did you survive that?" That was not what Robbie meant to ask, but that was what she said.

Tryss frowned. "I have no idea. By all rights, I-"


Tryss jerked up, inadvertently butting heads with Foxy. "Shit, she knows!"

Foxy waggled his hook in her face. "Lass, ye need ta keep a tight lid on yer emotion."

She winced. "How much- who did I get?"

The fox pointed her to Bonnie, the scratches in his arm plain. Jagged cuts from her own claws, some with sparking wires sticking out. "Better'n usual, Nothin' else out 'o place."

"By the First Fires," she muttered, clambering over to the rabbit, "I still hurt him! Did I get anyone else?"

"Just the new guard," Bonnie told her. "And only a little bit. Just the wrist, as far as I could tell."

"Great." she placed a hand over the scratches, green light pulsing from it into the wounds. "I don't know if she's going to come back now."

"Wadda ya mean?"

"I might have slipped into her dreams while I was out, though they may have just been my own. I have no way to tell." The wires were all reconnected, good. She redirected her focus to the surface of the arm. "I saw her, she saw me, I don't know what happened."

"Doesn't sound good, no matter who's dreams they were," Bonnie mused.

Tryss removed her hand, distracted as she watched the last spark of green dance over the repaired arm. "Dreams are whack. I keep dreaming that the sky is a ceiling only a few feet above the buildings, so I can't fly. Or that random people are hunting me." she sat back with a laugh. "I don't see a reason to take dreams too seriously."

Foxy nodded sagely. "Aye, last I dreamed, Freddy be doin' ballet."

Bonnie laughed.


Wowie! Almost a whole year? I'm the worst.