Hey, hey, glad you came back for the second chapter! I promise, things are gonna be a lot more interesting this time! Ha ha!

Dude, I am SO EXCITED to upload this. I feel alive, y'know?! Ahh, this feels so good! I can't really describe how excited I am for this story to progress. I've been having so much inspiration as of late, you don't even know!

Anyway, here is chapter two of No Strings Attached. Hope you guys are liking it so far. Here's where we're gonna start seeing a bit of gameplay, and a few more things you may recognize. Just FYI, I wanted to make this story feel exactly like the game, so in the event that you haven't played it, you can totally feel like you are while reading this. And in addition, if you were working at this place. Hope I did the game justice... I certainly tried to capture how I feel whenever I play it. :)

But regardless, I'll stop talking. This chapter was going to incorporate a lot more in the final scene you'll read, but it was getting a little long, so I had to crop it. Thanks for being so patient with me, and I hope you enjoy it! Forgive me of any errors as well, thank you. As always, all credit goes to the fantastic Scott Cawthon. We love you, man!

Enjoy!

I couldn't believe it. For a solid six seconds - trust me, I counted - we all stood in our little huddle, where, at least for me, time had utterly stopped.

Both Scott and Vincent stood, watching me, patiently waiting to see my reaction to the news. But as for me? Well, forget about reacting, I was still trying to absorb the words Scott had spoken. Slowly but surely, my brain picked them down from where they hung above our heads, processing them for my stupefied understanding.

Did he just say what I think he said?! I thought, my mind tripping on itself to find some sense of its bearings. Perfect fit… I was their perfect fit...?

In nothing but a heartbeat, my entire body had gone completely rigid, my muscles locking up. I stared - no, gawked - into the face of my new boss and coworker beside him, jaw wide open, my eyes so huge they were starting to dry out.

I'll be honest, due my past interview experiences, I was half-expecting to be hustled out the door and never contacted again. I can't tell you how many times that happened… Just like the other managers I had spoken to, I thought Scott was gonna blow me off as another failed hire, but he was clever. He tricked me, and he tricked me good. After raising my hopes for a job, he fake-shut me down, ultimately bringing the news right around with a sneaky turn of words. And I totally fell for it.

Just as quickly as it had left, my shining hope returned, flooding my chest to the point that I could hardly breathe. I swayed on my feet, my legs as numb as my mental processing.

At the command of Scott, Vincent gave a short nod before slinking away to grab the new employee package. He left me gaping, still, at his brother as he turned to face me, beaming like a proud father.

My throat caught. "Are you… are you really gonna hire me?" I breathed, my voice faint and shaky.

Scott chuckled brightly. "Why wouldn't I? I know a great employee when I see one." Leaning down, he lowered his voice, motioning me to lean in closer as well. I did so. "Listen, I'll let you in on a little secret, okay? The second I saw you, I knew there was something different about you compared to the other kids I've interviewed. I can see it in your eyes - you're different. You're as real as can be, and that's a tough trait to find in people around here. I like that."

My tongue was turning into sandpaper, my mouth was still open. I was outright speechless. No one, other than my mom, of course, had ever said anything like that to me in my life. Ever. He had stricken me to my core.

But he didn't stop there. "I can already tell you're gonna be an amazing night guard, regardless if you've had experience with this sort of thing," he grinned, raising an eyebrow. Scott peered deeply into me, piercing my very soul, it seemed. "And trust me, in a town like this, I've seen all the sob stories those good-for-nothing punks come up with to get the job easy.

"Your story really hits home for me. I know for a fact that you're not faking your situation, Jeremy, because I've seen it before. My brother and I are no strangers to going broke. The old franchise actually saved us from getting kicked onto the street back in the day, if you'd believe it." He gestured around the restaurant. "Freddy's was our saving grace, too."

Scott then gripped my shoulder, reassuring me of his sincerity. He held me firm in his warm, sable gaze. "We know where you've been, Jeremy, and… maybe where you already are. I don't need to see anything more to tell that you legitimately need this job, and Freddy's is happy - heck, I'm happy - to give it to you. Simple as that."

I was floored. Wow. Wow. That was… pretty much all I could think. Wow. Standing stiff, dumbstruck, I struggled to breathe, totally at a loss for words.

After several moments of everything slowly sinking in, I finally blinked. My eyes started to water, stinging. "I…" I croaked, searching for my voice, only to find that it had wandered into the murky realm of my stunned gratitude. "I-I don't know what to say, Mr. Cawthon… I..."

Scott laughed again, folding up my résumé and slipping it into his pocket. "Well, I'd say that a 'thank you' is in order, wouldn't you?" I nodded briskly, the movement shaking off my paralysis. "And, hey, from now on, don't call me Mr. Cawthon. That makes me feel old… Just call me Scott, okay? We can be on a first-name basis, can't we?"

A gradual smile split my frozen expression, spreading lucidity to the rest of my face. I released a relieved sigh as potent, euphoric fulfillment radiated throughout me from my gut, thawing out my icy limbs. With the newfound warmth, my blood revitalized - electricity began to jolt through me in ever-accelerating waves, spurring my rising ecstasy. But, not wanting to overreact, I kept it bottled up. I didn't wanna be that new employee, you know what I'm saying?

"Y-yeah, I can do that," I breezed, sifting through my hair with my fingers in awe. "Wow, thank you so much, Scott. I really can't thank you enough for this opportunity." My smile broadened till it strained my cheeks; he noticed with a happy snort. "This is the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time. This changes everything… Thank you, thank you! I-I honestly can't believe it…!"

"Well, you'd better start believing, kid, 'cause you're officially hired." I forcibly held in a squeal of delight threatening to burst through my chest. Thankfully, he didn't notice. He scratched his head, thinking. "Of course, we can only add your name to payroll after you fill out a few things, but once you get those done, expect to see some green in your bank account by the end of the week."

My heart did a backflip at the sound of that. Can you imagine? Green! Finally, I could live like a civilized person again! I could start rebuilding my life, changing my dreadful norm into something I wouldn't have to tolerate. True, I couldn't start living large, but if Freddy's could get back my electricity and put edible food in my fridge, I was more than game for this. Heck, I'd work at Freddy's for the rest of my life!

But as Scott mentioned my pay, images of my dingy apartment and empty gas tank began to float through my mind, reminding me of what I would be returning to after this. Knowing that, I couldn't help but grow curious as to how much I would be receiving.

I thought back to the first time I saw the job listing in the newspaper. The pizzeria's wages were printed on the ad - I knew they were. I could almost see them in my mind, all circled in red, laying on my kitchen table. But no matter how much I strained my brain, I couldn't for the life of me remember what the newspaper ad said. It was aggravating.

Now, I knew that asking about wages was almost always a death sentence during job interviews, but I just couldn't ward off my curiosity; nor could I wait to check the paper at home. Besides, I'd already been hired, so… I went for it. I asked him.

Peeking at Scott sheepishly, my ears burned as I wondered, "I hate to ask this, but… how much will that be exactly?"

Surprisingly, he brushed off my embarrassment with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Hey, you deserve to know. Don't worry about it. Well, uh, how's about I start you off at minimum wage - three thirty-five an hour, y'know - uh, you'll work six hours a night, and after five nights you'll make a nice hundred dollars, fifty cents. Uh, I might even give you a raise if you work hard enough after a few weeks. Sound good to you?"

My stomach plummeted into the floor with a breath-catching splat, I was so blown away. One hundred dollars and fifty cents!? Now, that may not mean much to you, but to someone as destitute as me, it was glorious godsend. I could eat comfortably for a month with that. And with a possible raise? I would be set. More than set. This seemed almost too good to be true. I nearly pinched myself, I thought I was dreaming.

I didn't wait for him to change his mind, quickly securing the deal with a strong nod. "Definitely! I-I'll take it. Thank you so much!" My pulse raced at the numbers, sending my stomach twisting eagerly at the numerous lifestyle improvements serenading my thoughts. I couldn't wait to get started. I could already tell that things were going to improve astronomically for me from here on out.

Looking above my head, Scott tucked his hands into his pockets, sighing with relief. He looked even happier than before, his posture lighter, almost as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Briefly, I wondered why. "Great! That's just great, uh, let's see, now… We got that done…" His brows furrowed as he lost himself in thought, searching through the floor tiles. "Is there anything else I need to tell you before we get you started? Hm…"

"How about giving the kid this, first, Scott?" a familiar voice called from behind us.

Both of us cast our gazes over his shoulder to find Vincent, strolling up to meet us from his task. Clutched in his pale hand was a pair of folded, purple, collared shirts, and on top of them sat a vintage security cap. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was bringing me my uniform. He held the hat down by the brim with his thumb as he approached, coming to a stop beside his twin.

He handed the bundle to Scott, his eyelids low. "Don't forget his uniform and paperwork. He can't be an official guard without either one of 'em, remember?" he mumbled.

"Hey, I knew that," Scott replied, a tinge of playful hostility tainting his tone. Smiling, he took the shirts, locking their eyes together. But it wasn't a smile I recognized on him: it was heedless. Prideful, even. His gaze was less than friendly, too. It was… more challenging than pleasant. "You don't have to remind me. You're not the Security Manager, now, are you, Vince?"

I took my chin back when Vincent proceeded to groan and roll his eyes, turning his cheek and scowling into a bundle of balloons in the corner. A subtle shadow darkened Scott's usually-amiable expression at the gesture. He stared blankly into his brother's ponytail, his smile faltering into a frown.

As I watched them, I raised a brow, questions brewing. Perhaps, in some way or another, I was witnessing a bit of adult sibling rivalry between Scott and Vincent? It certainly showed… I had always appreciated competition, but I wasn't so sure that I liked being around this; the aura radiating from Vincent was caustic.

What was going on between these two?

I never got the chance to think too deeply on it, for their moment didn't last long. Scott's frown instantly righted itself the moment he pulled his eyes away from Vincent and to me. "All right, Jeremy…" he began merrily, acting as if nothing had happened.

Extending his arm, he eased the pair of shirts and hat into my awaiting hands. Their material - that same rich purple - was stiff and stainless, faintly smelling of old washing detergent and something else I couldn't identify. "Here are your uniforms. Make sure to wear the shirt, the tie, the hat and some black pants every night you work. No jeans. At all. Uh, wear black dress shoes, too, okay? They should be comfortable, y'know. Something you can work in."

I nodded. "Okay."

He paused, shrugging. "Now, I know this is kinda strict, and that nobody else's gonna really see you during your shift, but formal attire is required by the company, so… yeah. As dumb as it is to dress up nice for six hours of nothing, you're just gonna have to go with it. Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. No worries. I don't mind."

"Awesome! Hey, look at you!"

As he listed everything, I began searching through the pile. Sure enough, I found a thin black tie wedged between the two shirts, along with a few sheets of blank paperwork hidden beneath the hat for me to fill out. I didn't stop to read them; the moment I lifted the hat, the object sitting on top of them drew in my attention acutely.

It was polished, pristine, its golden surface unscratched and smooth. The shiny, reflective coating of the security badge winked beautifully in the lights of the restaurant, mesmerizing me. Beneath the blank nameplate at the top were engraved the words: FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT SECURITY, all above the sculpted face of the original Freddy Fazbear occupying the badge's front. If I looked hard enough, I could faintly see my own reflection within the carved face of Freddy. My eyes seemed to combine with his.

Scott caught me staring at it. "Now that, Jeremy, is your golden opportunity, right there. That's what'll make you one of us."

His words resonated with me. I dunno about you, but, something about being a part of a group filled me with a sense of honor, since I'd been so isolated, poor and lonely for so long. My lungs swelled with it, accelerating my heartbeat and spiking my eagerness.

Prying my eyes off of it, I looked up to him, and subsequently, Vincent, who had managed to turn back to face me. Both of their badges seemed to gleam brighter as I looked between them, urging me to become just like them. Amazed by something so simple, I took it up in my hand, gripping it tightly.

Scott then enticed me with several choice words I would never forget, "Take it with pride, son. Wear it with pride. With that badge on your chest, you'll be a part of the new face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza." He threw his hands up. "Hey, what could go wrong?"

Well, I couldn't argue with that. Giddiness bubbled up in my chest, overshadowing my hidden fears for the company. Whether my paranoia liked it or not, this guy was more than ready to be a part of Freddy's. My bank account was more than ready. Closing my fingers around the badge, I returned Scott's beaming grin with my own, nodding. "Nothing, as long as I'm the night guard. Let's do it," I affirmed, endeavoring to hold back my explosive exhilaration.

Scott did the same, reaching his hand out to shake for a final time, laughing aloud as he did. "Ha ha ha! That's what I like to hear! Welcome to the family, Jeremy!" he congratulated, smiling as brightly as ever. I gladly slapped my hand on his, grasping it with newfound strength, shaking it like I had a purpose. Which, I kinda did, now. "We're delighted to have you."

Man, the phone call, the interview, this moment… they all came full circle. For the first time in a little over a year, I had a legitimate, paying job. Finally, I had a job! Me! It was all so surreal, and yet so groundbreaking at the same time. I soared on cloud nine, struggling to subdue the fiery thrill of employment blazing in my gut. I literally could not stop smiling; my face was starting to go numb.

"No kidding! Ha ha! So, uh, when can I start?" I blurted.

Scott's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "Ahh, see, now we're talking!" He grinned to Vincent, who replied with a fake curl of his lip. "I like this kid! He's got initiative!" Scott came back to me, visibly excited. "Well, Jeremy, that all depends on you, now. When are you available, son?"

I shrugged, thinking over my schedule, which, as of right now, was entirely empty in the absence of my job-hunting escapades. "Whenever. I am totally free. I'd like to get to work as soon as possible, if I could."

The conversation lulled as Scott and Vincent proceeded to exchange looks for several moments. Scott shrugged - Vincent mirrored it. They both pursed their lips and raised their brows at the same time, mentally coming to an agreement in perfect silence.

Eventually, Scott turned, tilting his head to the side, prompting, "How about tonight?"

My heart flipped. The question caught me a little off guard (pun intended), but hey, I did say as soon as possible, didn't I? "Really? Tonight?" I stammered, amazed by the offer. "Are you sure? I mean, I-I'll do it, but that means I'll be coming in on a Sunday… and isn't this place closed on Sundays?"

"Oh, no, don't worry, it is," Scott reassured, shaking his head. "We never schedule guards on Sundays, but Vince and I thought that since you wanted to work ASAP, a quiet shift might help ease you into things? Nobody will come in or out of the building at all - it'll be really simple." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We're planning on scheduling you every day next week, too, so we thought that tonight'd be a good night to get you trained up and ready. What do you think?"

Hey, made sense to me. I wasn't worried about my Sunday being "jeopardized." Not at all. I mean, all I really did was nap and watch cartoons on Sundays. What was a graveyard shift to add to the roster? After all, I'd have the rest of the day to myself.

"Oh! H-hey, yeah, that works! I'll do it. Tonight should be perfect." I nodded, tucking my new shirts close to my chest, holding them tight. Butterflies flickered around in my stomach - I was starting to get anxiously nervous for my first shift. It would certainly be a new experience for me.

To my surprise, the two men before me suddenly relaxed, slouching and smiling together. Their combined relief confused me, but maybe it was just nice to have some new blood? I didn't know.

"All right, awesome! Hey, it'll be great, just you wait," Scott encouraged, giving me a thumbs up. "You'll be a pro in no time. Actually, uh, now that you're on board, you'll be doing Vince here a favor; he hasn't had a night off in a decade, at least." He patted his brother's back. "Poor guy's been a guard without fail ever since the franchise got a reboot."

I gasped, my eyebrows skyrocketing. A decade? Maybe that was why the man was so crabby. Then again, I wouldn't blame him if that were the reason. But as I thought on that fact, I began to worry if I was going to end up just like him… Hopefully not.

Vincent stretched his long arms, blissful solace soothing those dark rings beneath his eyes. He sighed as his back cracked sharply. "Oh! Mmm, baby, am I sleeping in so hard next week..." He flashed me another smile, his eyes shimmering keenly. "Ahhh…Thanks, kid. I owe you one."

"N-no problem," I stuttered, returning his smile feebly. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to help a brother out, but man, he still gave me the creeps. Sniffing, I reverted my attention to Scott. "So, uh, do I need to bring anything with me when I come in?"

He shook his head casually. "Nothing but you, the uniform on your back and your filled-out paperwork. That's it. Don't worry about clocking in; we'll log down your hours until we get you a timecard." Sudden realization dawned on his face, his eyes igniting. "Oh! We need to get your keys, too! Let's go take care of that before we forget. C'mon, follow me."

Scott was about to move when he was stopped by a commotion up front - a loud chorus of shuffling, scraping and chattering voices. Several goodbyes drifted through the air, both from robotic voices and not. It seemed like the party had broken up, resulting in a large, slow procession of people beginning to pass by, thereby blocking Scott's route.

A thick stream of parents from the party, each of them towing their bleary-eyed kids by the hand, drifted beside us, heading for the door. Only, not all of them left immediately. Instead, several approached the lone countertop behind us. I noticed with intrigue that each of them had in their hands various tickets and tokens, all at the ready to present to the perky employee behind the register.

Scott's momentum ground to a halt as he waited for the crowd to pass, but as he watched them go by, his attention ended up at the countertop. Vincent and I wound up watching it as well.

The man at the head of the rapidly-forming line slapped a few handfuls of tickets onto the countertop, asking his yawning daughter what toy she wanted. She pointed a tiny finger to a chubby Chica plush doll, its large, lavender eyes slightly askew in two directions.

Curiously, when the employee plucked the toy off the shelf, he didn't hand it to the little girl directly. Instead, he grabbed a small, white box from under the counter and placed it inside, wrapping it up and tying the package closed with a neat crimson bow. He then knelt, disappearing under the counter, all but for his hands, reaching for the side of the oversized gift box in the corner.

I observed intensely, my fascination with the box overcoming me once more. With amazement, I watched as the employee opened a hidden latch on the box, sliding the present into it before popping right back up, all the while smiling much too widely at the father and daughter.

That saccharine smile remained on his face as he dragged the tweeting music box across the countertop, offering it to them. "All righty, guys," he exclaimed, jovial enthusiasm brightening his words. "Go ahead and spin the handle on my box here back a few times - you'll be in for a surprise!"

They did as he trilled, cranking the handle back. Abruptly, My Grandfather's Clock stopped chirping, which was jarring, considering how subtly prominent it had been, before. The song was immediately replaced by a tinkling, high-pitched version of POP! Goes the Weasel, the notes galloping out of the box at a million miles an hour. Everybody in the room turned, alarmed, in unison to the enormous gift box as it started to jostle. Something was kicking around inside it.

My heart leapt into my throat when the POP! of the song sent a tall, spindly figure exploding out of the box, showering confetti on the scene in front of the counter. Amidst the squeals and cheers from the crowd, I stared, slightly shocked at the thing that had emerged from the box, wondering just what on earth it was.

It resembled a humanoid Jack-in-the-box clown as it bounced up and down, almost as if it were fixed on a pogo stick. Its pair of slitted, empty black eyes in its porcelain white mask peered down to the little girl. Its voice, a singsong, childlike drone, drifted from the hollows of its gaping black grin, purring, "I have a present for you!"

The thing's wistful, calm voice sent eerily-familiar chills down my spine. My hair rose again.

It held out the present for the girl to take, its long, slender arms nearly reaching the floor. The thing was entirely pitch black, its stark darkness only broken by the trio of white buttons on its chest and the stripes linings its wrists. Just like Chica, Freddy and Bonnie, this mysterious, gangling figure had crimson, blushed cheeks, and in addition, what looked like lipstick puckered in the center of its mouth.

Ice crept into my stomach, shooting goosebumps over my skin. I'm not gonna lie to you: that thing was freakin' terrifying. I'm surprised the little girl didn't start crying out of sheer fear at the sight of it, but since it was giving her a present, I guessed that overruled. As perturbing and out-of-place as the thing was, it was the marks running down from its eyes that sent my fear spiraling. They looked like purple tears, stained into its face.

Unfazed, the girl took the gift from it with glee, tearing it open. After revealing her toy, she dropped the box and snuggled it, looking up into the face of the thing happily. "Thanks, Mr. Puppet!" she giggled, holding her dad's neck as he swept her up and marched them both out the door.

Even after they had left, I couldn't take my eyes off of it, for some reason. The Puppet? That was that thing's name? I shuddered, but it actually seemed appropriate. But was that its only purpose in the pizzeria? to give out those creepy little plush toys? Compared to the other animatronics, that thing didn't belong here. It was so… different.

It wasn't natural.

As the line inched forward, and the employee began taking tickets again, I watched in horror as the Puppet slowly looked past the people before it, rotating its head toward Scott, Vincent and me with each bounce. Scott flinched in the corner of my eye, backing out of my line of sight. I nearly cowered back into him when it waved its hand for us to come closer, singing, "Step right up, everybody, and get your due prizes! But only if you're lucky!"

And for only a split second, I could have sworn that I saw a pair of tiny, white lights spark to life within the Puppet's empty eye sockets. But they disappeared as soon as I blinked, making me wonder if I had seen them at all.

Scott suddenly jerked to face me, turning his back on the counter. I somehow managed to rip my gaze from the Puppet and onto him, only to find his typical smile missing from his face. I stared. There was no color in his face, no emotion. He looked totally drained, petrified, his eyes huge and slightly bloodshot. Sweat trickled down his temple. If I focused on him hard enough, I was pretty sure that I saw the man shaking.

"Hey, l-listen, I gotta go…" he spluttered, his eyes darting here and there nervously. His voice, stale and stiff, trembled harshly; he was difficult to understand. "Vincent will give you y-your keys, ok-kay? Uh… come in at midnight, go to the back office, I-I'll give you a call and train you. No worries. S-see you on the flipside."

And with that, he wiped his forehead and took off toward the long hallway, banging his knee on the carousel in his mad disappeared before I had the chance to collect myself and thank him again.

Vincent and I stared after him, our jaws open. We only broke our trances when he exhaled loudly, swearing under his breath. "Hoo, Scotty, Scotty…" he sighed. Coming around to face me, he began, "Uh… Jeremy..." It seemed like a chore for him to say my name. "There's not much else you gotta do, so just, uh, go home for now, fill out those papers, and come back in a few hours, okay?"

"Okay, yeah." I bit my lip, my head still swirling from the events of the night. "But... do I still need my keys?"

Vincent blinked, pinching his nose. "Yeah. Um… Here, take mine. I'll use the spares in the office." He unhooked a small wad of copper keys from a carabiner on his belt loop, plopping them into my hand. "Here. Now, the only key you need to worry about is the key to the outside doors, which is this one," he said, pointing out the largest key on the ring. "Don't lose it."

A short blip of silence passed as he thought to himself, rubbing his neck. "Uh, when you come in, make sure the front door stays locked until you leave. You are not allowed to exit the building until your shift is over. Nothing in, nothing out, you get me?"

I nodded, briefly wondering why he said nothing instead of no one.

He then took a quick survey of the room, frowning at the chaotic party aftermath. It looked like a bomb had gone off, over here. Near the stage, Bonnie, Chica and Freddy all stared blankly into the mess, not sure of what to do.

"...Technically, I should show you around the place, but you'll see everything through your camera feeds, tonight, so… I'm not gonna." He quickly added, "Don't tell Scott."

"Er… all right." We both fidgeted on our feet, another awkward moment of silence hovering between us. I hesitated for quite some time before asking reverently, "Is that everything I need, then?"

To my surprise, his onyx eyes suddenly glittered as a thought graced him. Straightening, he glanced between a table behind him and me, lifting a finger to stop me from leaving. "Actually, one last thing…" Without warning, he strode off toward the table, grabbing a sheet of paper off of its corner. Upon coming back to meet me, he handed it over with an astonishingly genuine smile on his lips. "Take these, too. You look like you could use 'em."

In my hand, all glossy and with tear-away edges, was a six pack of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza coupons.

My eyes widened, my stomach beginning to rumble as I skimmed through each of them. These were all for free large pizzas, 6-liter sodas, ice cream cakes, prize tokens… the whole enchilada. My blood froze at the sight of them.

For a minute, I could've sworn I was looking at Scott, not Vincent. I mean, he was acting so differently from the cold, off-putting man I had met when I first came in. For some odd reason, he was actually being nice to me, which was great and all, but still like felt like a punch in the gut. Just who was this guy?

Vincent raised his hand to his mouth, saying in a low voice, "Consider those what I owe you for taking my shifts, but don't tell Scott about 'em either, got it? I'm not supposed to give them out to employees." He raised an eyebrow, ingraining his motives into me.

"I won't. Thanks…" I murmured, amazed by his sudden generosity. "Thanks a lot."

But, just as quickly as his kindness came on, it waned with the arrival of his unnerving smirk. His eyes sharpened; he became Vincent again in a heartbeat. "Don't mention it, kid. Seriously. Now scram!" he barked. "We've got cleaning up to do."

With a light push to my shoulder, he sent me stumbling back toward the door. Thankfully, I didn't drop anything or run into anybody. Once I had regained my footing, I held my new belongings close, tucking my keys under the hat before taking in a deep breath.

With one last look around the pizzeria, I maneuvered my way through the crowd and out the door, tension and eagerness roiling in my stomach.

As I made my way to the car, a spring in my step, my grand smile returned, dominating my face. With my heart pumping at light speed, I wasn't so sure I could wait until midnight. That was three whole hours away. And although the Puppet thing had freaked me out (I purposely averted my eyes from it as I left), I was anxious to start working. At least I knew what to avoid while I was on the clock. I'd never look at that oversized box again… Urgh… That thing…

But at the same time, a sense of the unknown had me on edge, making me shiver in the cool night. I honestly didn't know what I to expect when midnight arrived, neither was I sure exactly as to what I would be doing during my shift. Y'know, besides guarding the place, of course. The details of the job had been glazed over during my interview; I was kind of flying into this gig blind. A pang of nervousness bled into my anticipation at that.

But then again, just how hard could a night guard job be?

...I would find out soon enough.

"Okay, okay," I whispered to myself, going through my checklist one last time. "Paperwork…" Reaching into the passenger seat, I felt around blindly in the darkness, finally locating them and setting the sheets into my lap. Next, I took a breath in through my nose, my face scrunching at the musty, soapy smell emanating from my shirt and hat. "Uniform, yeah, yeah…" I placed a hand on my shirt pocket. The cold surface of the badge tingled my fingertips. "Okay, I've got you… Keys…?" With a quick dandle, I fingered through them to find the one I needed, gripping it firmly.

I released a relieved sigh. Fortunately, I hadn't left anything at home. "All right. We're all set." Raising my gaze through the windshield, I looked out onto the deserted parking lot, drenched in shadows.

Thankfully for me, midnight had arrived rather quickly. My anticipation and I couldn't have waited a second longer as soon as the time came around. You should've seen me. In my eagerness, I ended up leaping into my car, blasting like a maniac through the desolate streets and a red light (hey, nobody saw me!) before skidding crookedly into a stall.

Despite my unbridled excitement for the coming night, I nervously chewed my lip. My gas tank worried me. Hopefully I'd have enough fuel to make it back home after my shift was over... The drooping needle on the tank gauge lurked in the back of my mind, nagging at me.

Casting my eyes up the hill, I set aside my worries, finally facing the dark, blocky silhouette of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. In the failing light of a flickering flood lamp nearby, the building appeared whitewashed, haunted, its windows black and empty. I gulped. The place was extremely unsettling now that everyone had gone, rocking the foundations of my eagerness. Goosebumps sprouted under my skin, but I didn't dare let my mind wander, knowing fully well that I could easily psych myself out of this. My imagination certainly carried that potential.

Swallowing my fear, I opened my door, gathered my paperwork and courage, and got out of the Bronco.

I almost dropped dead upon getting out, my courage scattering, my excitement melting into discomfort. For a moment, I seriously thought that I'd gone deaf. The silence around me was disturbing. It hung, heavy and low like an impenetrable, eternal fog. I could have sworn my heart pounded aloud like a drum, every one of my short, startled breaths a screaming hurricane.

Knowing me, it didn't take long for my vibrant fears to take possession of every fiber of my body. My eyes flitted left and right, barely adapted to the inky darkness, wary of how alone I truly was. With my paranoia running rampantly, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was surrounded by an invisible horde of watchful eyes, all of them bearing straight down on me from the sanctity of their shadows.

Who - or what - was out there? And what did they want from me? I wasn't really a fighter, but I was a fast runner. I could definitely hide if something went wrong. But I couldn't cower in my car all night... I had a job to do. Scott had entrusted me with this. I had to do this. As much as the thought unnerved me, if something was really out here with me, Freddy's was my only sanctuary from it… whatever it was.

I focused on the door to the building, my mind and pathway set. With frightened jitters already starting to jolt my limbs, my fight or flight instincts kicked in in full force. My legs ached as I took a slow survey around me, eyes peeled for movement. Nothing.

Time to move. I held my hat down and clamped my keys and paperwork tight in-hand before breaking into a dead sprint across the lot.

My keys jangled aloud, my quick, slapping steps echoing sharply along the lot. My adrenaline was pumping so fast I leapt the stairs in a single bound, barrelling down the pavement without brakes. I threw my head over my shoulder, bracing myself for anything.

Before I could stop myself, I crashed headlong into the double doors, my badge clanking harshly against the glass. If anybody was out there, they would've heard my spectacular smack without a doubt.

The windows rippled from the impact - my nose left behind a greasy smudge in the center of the glass. After peeling my face off the door, I struggled to compose myself, trying to even out my breathing while fumbling around with my keys. It was a miracle that I managed to shove the key into the lock, twist it, and haul the door open all before my lungs exploded out of my chest.

Once inside the pizzeria, I whipped around, gasping, slamming the door shut and locking it without a moment's hesitation. My blood blazed through my veins, a bead of sweat trickling down from my scalp as I peered through the windows at the cavernous black void outside. Empty. Nobody around - not out there, and not in here.

In hindsight, I realize had really overreacted, but at the very least, I was safe. I was alone.

Or so I thought.

Laying a hand on my chest, I gradually calmed myself down, shakily attaching my keys to my belt loop and sweating off my fears. After my pulse had ceased pummeling my eardrums, it took me a second or two to realize that the deafening silence outside hadn't followed me into the pizzeria. My ears rang slightly at the sound of the soft, clinking notes drifting through the stale air - notes I recognized with both warm nostalgia and fear.

My Grandfather's Clock…?

I stopped cold, catching my breath. My eyebrows scrunched. Wait a minute... I thought. Why would they keep the box playing if the place is closed? That doesn't make any sense...

Baffled, I rotated my head to my right, laying eyes on the now-darkened countertop a short distance away. The prize corner's various colorful decorations and toys were now monochromatic in the darkness, making the place look entirely different. A dim, solitary light from the ceiling faintly illuminated the countertop and shelf, the light reflecting off the eyes of a Freddy plush toy propped up against the music box.

But everything else was swallowed in thick shadow. No matter how much I squinted, I couldn't make out the enormous gift box at all, let alone the bizarre, terrifying creature it housed. The hair on my arms stood up at the thought, but, maybe it was for the best? I mean, the less I saw of that thing, the better.

Another shudder snaked through me, pulling me away from my anxieties with that haunting box and toward my task at hand. I shook off my tension and swiveled on my heel to face the familiar setting of the main entrance.

Only, just like the prize counter, it wasn't as familiar as I thought it would look after hours. Now that the lights were off, the place was gloomy and grey, the bright, welcoming colors muted. A few lights here and there lit up some spots on the checkered floor, but for the most part, it was all just a dark, still abyss.

I carefully reverted my eyes towards the stage, where Bonnie, Chica and Freddy stood, frozen, staring emptily into a far wall across the restaurant. The spotlight above them cast stark shadows into their eyes and mouths, removing the vibrant, inviting glow from their faces.

I clenched my jaw. I'll admit that I found it a little sad to see them so… lifeless, especially after watching their exuberant performance earlier. But I supposed that even robots needed some time off. They couldn't be entertainers if there wasn't anybody around to entertain, right?

With that in mind, I readjusted my hat, held my paperwork close, and took my first steps beyond the entrance and into the pizzeria. The notes of My Grandfather's Clock grew fainter the further I walked away. As I passed by Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, I found myself almost tiptoeing, self-conscious of the volume of my own footsteps, almost like I was afraid I'd wake them up.

Pressing on, I left them behind me, slightly curious as to why I would start thinking that. They were offline for the night. Robots didn't wake up.

Get a hold of yourself, Jeremy, I scolded.

Despite the puddle of anxiety pooling in my gut, I proceeded into the maw of the long, pitch-black hallway with courage from seemingly nowhere, keeping one hand on the wall. As I drifted along, my fingers rubbing against the bumpy wallpaper, I tried not to think about the twisted fantasies marauding in the back of my mind.

Something then caught my eye a little further along around a corner: the beckoning light of what I assumed was the back office Scott had referred to. Nervous, I pushed my feet a little harder, eager to get out of the dark and into some place more well-lit and pleasant.

I smiled, sweet relief washing over me as I turned the corner, catching my first glimpse of the office. Breaking into a brisk jog, I hurried toward the warm light radiating from the room at the end of the hall, fleeing from the darkness, only slowing my pace as I entered.

To my delight, the office was a bright, spacious, high-ceilinged room, equipped with a small desk in the back, promotional posters and children's drawings on the walls, and more glittering trinkets dangling near the solitary lamp illuminating the place. An antique clock hung above the desk, peacefully ticking.

The air smelled faintly of cheese and yeast when I walked in - I deduced the source to be the stack of soggy pizza boxes beside one of the table's legs. My stomach turned at the sight of them, and even more so once I spotted the soda cup standing on the top box. I secretly hoped that they were for me. I was starving.

Without a second glance behind me, I approached the desk, finally noticing a rolling office chair awaiting my occupation. I didn't hesitate to sit myself down, pulling the chair up, squirming to try to get comfortable. The chair's cushions weren't the softest things in the world, but I distracted myself from them by surveying the objects on my desk.

First and foremost, there sat a fan, reverently whirring and blowing cool air into my face. It felt nice, considering how much I'd been sweating, before. Beneath the fan laid a device that I can only describe as a flat, miniature monitor, with twelve buttons flanking its sides, all labeled with numbers. A long, thick cord ran from the back of it, across the desk and onto the floor before feeding into two huge heaps of small, blank TVs crammed into the corners of the room.

At the farthest edge of the desk, opposite the fan, sat a polished, red landline phone, and resting against that, a long, black flashlight. Intrigued, I picked the flashlight up, aiming its end toward the yawning black pit that was the doorway and flicking it on. The light only just penetrated the darkness. I frowned and set it down. Some use that thing was.

Now seated and ready for a long night, I gave in to my curiosity, reaching down toward the pizza boxes and taking up the soda cup in my hand. Liquid sloshed around inside it, but, not knowing whether or not anybody had drank from it, I used it to hold down my paperwork and set it on the desktop.

I refocused on the pizza boxes, only then noticing a large, furry brown mound sitting behind them. Upon closer inspection, I discovered it to be a disembodied Freddy Fazbear head, eyeless and empty on the floor. My brain strained itself to figure out why it was there in the first place. I only had the time to curiously touch the tip of its ear before an abrupt blaring from the phone nearly scared me out of my chair.

It pains me to admit, but I let out a squeak of alarm at the sound. It just about shattered the silence, the obnoxious ringing only stopping when I answered it. As I lifted the receiver to my ear, I had a feeling I knew who it was.

"Uh, hello? Hello, hello?" a familiar, peppy voice asked. "Uh, hello, is this Jeremy?"

"Yeah, it's me," I replied.

"Hey, Jeremy, it's Scott. How's it going over there?"

"Uh, not too bad, I guess. I mean, I just got here, so, nothing to report, really."

"Yeah, that's fine. There's usually nothing to report, anyway. Um… Hey, sorry about bolting, earlier. Something… came up… But I'm calling to train you, now, and hopefully get you pumped for this new and exciting career path, okay? I won't hang up until we're finished."

"Okay, great." I fidgeted around, trying to get myself as comfortable as I could, knowing that he'd probably be talking for a while.

I listened intently as he began, "Now, I know we didn't tell you too much about what you should expect to see during your shift, so again, that's why I'm here. This job is really nothing you need to stress or worry about. Uh, all you really gotta do is watch those camera feeds on your monitor, and that's it. Y-you see all those buttons on it?"

I took the device up in my hand. "Uh-huh."

"Okay, all of those buttons correspond to a matching camera located somewhere in the building. Go ahead, give it a go while I talk." I did so, turning the monitor on and flipping through camera feeds. I hadn't noticed the cameras themselves as I walked through the pizzeria, so it was interesting to see where they all were monitoring. Most of them were difficult to see, though, due to the static plaguing the screen and the darkness of the rooms.

"If you'd like to get a better look at some of those screens, y'know, 'cause they're a little dark, then press the white button on the side," Scott pointed out. "That'll activate the flashlights built into the cameras."

I tested it out on the one feed I couldn't seem to flip away from - the prize corner - and lo and behold, the button shed light directly onto the creepy gift box. My eyes widened. That was the absolute last thing I wanted to see, tonight. Another chill darted down my spine.

"Okay, cool," I responded around my chattering teeth.

He didn't say anything for a few moments, pausing. "Um, I don't know if Vince told you, or not, but you won't just be watching empty cameras all night, Jeremy. Uh, tonight, you might be by yourself, but... you're not alone," Scott said, his voice taking on a grim edge.

"Wait, w-what do you mean by that?!" I almost dropped the monitor in my panic, my heart smashing against my ribs suddenly. I clenched the thing, staring horrified into the prize corner video feed, my mind reeling with his words. "What?!"

"Now, don't freak out," he quickly stammered. "I-I didn't mean to scare you, son. I'm just saying that you're in there with the animatronics, that's all. Heh, you've got nothing to worry about. Just keep in mind that while our characters are extremely advanced, they do have a few… kinks."

"O-okay, but w-what does that mean?" I whimpered, switching over to the show stage feed, warily eying the trio huddled in the darkness. I didn't dare light them up, for fear they'd all be looking straight at me.

"Well, from what Vince has told us - but I personally don't believe it - he claims that, uh, the animatronics moved around at night, and they even tried to get into his office." My stomach sank. I suddenly didn't like this at all. But then again, maybe Vince was just trying to scare me... Wouldn't put it past him.

Scott resumed, "But from what we know, that should be impossible. Uh, that restaurant should be the safest place on Earth - heck, we should be paying them to guard you." My jaw clenched; that wasn't the least bit comforting. "Anyway, while our engineers don't have an explanation for this, the working theory is that… the robots were never given a proper night mode. So, uh, when it gets quiet, they think they're in the wrong room, so then they go try to find where the people are, and in this case, that's your office."

"So what do I do, then?"

"You know the music box over by the prize counter?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that's our temporary solution: we've rigged that little box to be wound up remotely, so no need for you to get up. We do keep it wound throughout the day, but it should start winding down in a few hours, so keep that in mind. Uh, there's a special button for that on your monitor, right at the top, but it only works when you're viewing the prize counter video feed." I flipped to the dreaded feed in question, smashing my finger on the windup button. I didn't care if it was wound down or not.

He went on, oblivious to what I was doing, "So just, every once in a while, switch over to it and wind it up for a few seconds. It'll display how much it's been wound up, too, which is good. That way, things over there stay quiet, like they should. Now, the music box doesn't seem to affect all of the animatronics, but it does affect… one of them." He cleared his throat, cutting off my chance to clarify which one. "Uh, and as for the rest of them, we've got an even easier solution! We've given you an empty Freddy Fazbear head. I dunno if you saw it..."

I looked down toward it, my questions answered. "I did, but what is it for? What solution?"

"Uh, since Vince says that the robots tried to get into the office, he also thinks that, uh… You see…" He paused, searching for his words. He then proceeded to speak rather quickly, his voice strangely muffled. "There, uh, may be a minor… glitch in the system, something about robots seeing you as an endoskeleton without his costume on, and wanting to stuff you into a suit…"

My eyebrows skyrocketed. "What?!"

"Hey, but don't worry!" Scott blurted. "Don't worry at all! That Freddy head will mess with the robots' facial scanners - they'll think you're one of them! Problem solved! Heh!"

"...Ok-kay," I croaked, my throat constricted for some reason.

Scott chuckled nervously. I could hear him scratching his head through the phone. "Heh, heh… Anyways, uh… You can put that Freddy head on anytime, and leave it on for as long as you want. Eventually, anything that wandered in, will wander back out. Uh, keep that in mind with those vents on the sides of the room, too, okay, Jeremy? They're big enough to crawl through… There actually used to be a funhouse kinda attraction there before we had to scrap it, so, uh, don't forget to check those vent lights, too."

As he mentioned it, I only just then noticed the gaping, black gaps in the walls to my left and right. I suddenly felt extremely exposed on all sides. Stiffening in my chair, I clamped down on the surface of the phone till my fingers cracked.

Scott then ripped me out of my wary, paralyzed trance with a few words of overdue encouragement. He didn't pause once for me to say anything. "But hey, you've got nothing to fear, trust me. This is just the beginning of a thrilling career! You're gonna be my champ guard, I just know it! Well, I think that's it. You should be golden. Uh, watch your flashlight battery, check the lights, put on the Freddy head if you need to, uh, keep the music box wound up. Piece of cake. Have a good night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The line went dead before I could utter a word.

Above the droning of the phone, an ungodly silence settled in, dominating the air and stealing my breath away with it. Y'know, I never knew how long I could sit without breathing.

No, seriously, I couldn't breathe for what felt like an eternity, my lungs as paralyzed as the rest of my body. My fingers were frozen in a vise-grip around the phone, my legs numb, my eyes wide open, staring perilously into the black hole before me.

Thankfully, though, the monitor slipped out of my hand and crashed onto the desk, jolting life back into my stiff body. Before I could pause to take in a breath, I was suddenly overcome by an awful, violent shudder - it shook my vision and rattled my bones and teeth, making placing the phone back a difficult task, but I managed.

As soon as it was safely back on its pedestal, my heart almost leapt straight outta my chest. I thought I heard something - some movement, the subtle shuffling of a pair of feet.

What was that noise?! I screamed in my head, too terrified to speak aloud. My breath heightened considerably. What was that…?! Nobody's in here but me! Suddenly my blood curdled as a terrible, nightmarish thought twisted to life inside my mind. Scott's words echoed back to me, haunting my denial. Wait...

I nearly dove across the desk to grab the monitor, pulling it up and shoving it in my face. My fingers were shaking hopelessly, my palms and fingertips already slipping on the monitor's surface from sheer sweat. I could barely flip through the screens without fumbling around with the accursed thing, almost dropping it several times.

I didn't bother checking the entire restaurant. I was afraid I already knew where my attention needed to be focused: CAM 09, the show stage. And sure enough, as soon as the feed came up, my heart plummeted into my stomach, wallowing in the roiling, sickly soup that was my grotesque mental horrors come to life.

Bonnie was gone.

OH NO! I'm getting flashbacks of my first time playing FNAF 2. Hoo, boy...

Anyway, what'd you think?! Didja like it? No? Anything? I'm open to any comments, predictions, anything if you'd like. I really enjoyed writing the whole Puppet sequence and the first conversation with Phone Guy - it got me thinking how the night would play out if you could actually talk to him, y'know?

And see, Vincent ain't so bad... or is he? Heeheeheehee... Guess we'll see...

I am gonna be pulling my personal experience with the game in this story, and since I've only gotten to play the iOS version (where the animatronics are more aggressive), you'll be getting a taste of exactly what I had to deal with in the coming chapter.

Stay tuned, night guards!

Peace!