Theres a new nightguard working the shift. A small, weedy little man who bears the grubbish nametag worn by all employees. This one has 'Steve' written on it, which is an oddly fitting name for him. he certainly, and arguably, looked like a Steve to those on the stage, as we eyed up the competition as he passed towards the office. On his way, he knocked over one of the cleaning assistants mops and practically squealed in fear, causing us animatronics to perk up in interest at just how easy this would be.
My name is Bonnie. How long I've been Bonnie, or where I was named, or even made, I do not know. My endoskeleton was taken from a deceased company that was only just recently revived by a wealthy company hoping to invest in a pizza chain in order to rake in more money. Fazbears Pizza is famous for its incidents, so to speak, and for it to be bought up again would cause a lot of people to attend once more despite what happened in the past.
I am different. I know it for a fact. I remember the day they powered me up for the first time, and investigated my movement, my voice, everything they have forced me into acting like. It is during the day I am forced to recite their words like a puppet on a string, move around and entertain their young in order for our manager to rake in the profit. Our- his pizzeria - has only been open for a few weeks, so the attendance of children for parties still is at a remarkable high. It only tires us to speak our rhymes, play our tunes, over and over.
At night, we have more fun.
Its in our bones - our endoskeletons bones, so to speak. We don't know where it comes from, why it happens, what plagues our minds to act this way, but it tells us crystal clear that we are hunting the bare. The endoskeleton bare loose in the pizzeria, and we know it is needed to be found and returned to its suit. We can't have them running around, can we?
The management has made the building large, for multiple parties and so they can gain more money for the amounts of parties happening. It makes it harder to find the skeletons, especially when they run, but we do it. Every time. I have the pride to say that I am currently holding the record number of catches and stuffings. Freddy still is trying to beat me, but he can't. The guards aren't smart enough to close the doors it seems, so they don't drain nearly as much power, and so Freddy can't lay a finger on them. Chica does well too, but Foxy- he doesn't even try. Barely ever shows his face. We don't intrude his monologues behind that curtain.
Steve has gone now, and I am stepping off of the stage, listening carefully. I am good at that - Freddy has his enhanced sight, and Chica has her enchanced speech, I suppose - but I, I have my enhanced hearing. I can hear the bark of a dog, the alarm of a car, the buzz of a streetlight, right from my stage. Its a remarkable skill they have given me, and right now I can hear the breathing of Steve just metres away from our stage. Freddy and Chica do not move after me. They know I can handle it.
I make my way down the hall, slowly, freezing whenever that camera moves to look at me. The hallways are long, but there are not many cameras to catch me out, so I can cover the distance relatively fast. My ears are crooked again - it always happens when I jump from the stage, but they do not falter their hearing abilities. The only sound I hear is my own footfalls on my approach. Steve is ignorant. He has not closed the door, nor touched the light.
I think this will be easy.
I am wrong.
One step makes too much noise, and he looks up, hammers the light like a fisticuff professional, and there I am, caught in the buzz of the light. I freeze up, but not in a way I am used to freezing up. Something seizes my endoskeleton, forces me to stay in place. I can get into the room if I want, but something is holding me back. I can't move my mouth, my eyes. I am a statue prisoner to the buzzing of the light.
It goes out, and I am able to move again, but then the door comes hammering down infront of me, cutting off my path and causing my vision to cut out. The mechanics were smart with our vision - they say there were incidents of limb loss and the way to make sure we aren't hurting others is to put cameras inside of our endoskeletons heads, so we record what we see. Fortunately these only work during the day, but they are still present at night.
Mine goes static, covering my line of sight and blinding me as I stand paralyzed before the closed door. I can't shake the static away, and my ears flicker back and forth as I try to force my eyes to work once again. But nothing is working, and the door is certainly faulting me. I can't walk away without seeing where I am doing, and I am frozen to begin with. I am stuck, and I can do nothing.
It feels like hours are passing. My mind reels back and forth, trying to stop the static and trying to make me move just a little. But I won't, and I can't. Theres a screeching noise in my mind that muffles out my hearing - or tries to. Its a nightmare I'm living in, and It convinces me that I am stuck within it for the remainder of my time.
Or so I believe, until it stops so suddenly.
The door is open. The light is off.
Chica is standing there, looking as though they had not been a bother to her, and her fist is clamped tightly and bloodily around the collar of a very mangled looking Steve. I always have to marvel at Chicas.. erm.. method, I suppose. She is as physically strong as the rest of us, hauling Steve over her shoulder and offering me her hand to help me stand. I take it gratefully and get to my feet. I didn't know I had fallen.
Everything is clear again.
"Bonnie? Are you okay?" Chica does not have a mouth like us - too many children trying to stuff pizza in it, I suppose, because management chose that that was her enhanced ability. It allows her to sing more, I guess. Whenever she speaks, the monitor on her mouth mask lights up, and it matches her pitch with the ridges. It looks cool.
I do not nod my head as much as I want to throw it off. I shake it instead.
Chica peers out of the door into the hall and begins carrying Steve to the service room. I follow along, a little dizzy from what has just happened. She doesn't seem concerned, but she is. She hides her emotions very well sometimes. She doesn't speak for a while, before letting the question out.
"What happened?"
"I-I don't know. I froze up." I have to give her the truth. She looks a little confused.
"Froze up? You don't usually do that."
"Well tonight I did, and- it was the doors. The doors and lights, they messed with me."
"You mean you were confused by them, or was it a malfunction?"
"I hope it was a one-time malfunction, honestly." I don't want this to happen again - it was a horrible experience and it would best be avoided.
We reach the service room, and I don't enter after her. Instead, I stay by the door. The service room in this building is large, and the suits are all orderly stacked by character. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica. A few Foxy suits too. Chica, as the one who caught the guard, gets to choose, and she plucks up one of the Freddy suits, removes its head. Pulls open the torso. Begins cramming the corpse in. I avert my eyes a little. Theres a lot of crunching sounds.
"You should let Freddy know. He knows all about malfunctions, he can fix you."
Chica is right. Freddy knows more than either of us do about malfunctioning, and I would rather not be forced to ordeal that again. I nod my head and turn away to leave her to her meddling, walking solitarily back towards the stage. My mind is reeling.
I am glitching.