Chapter 2: The First Night, Pt 1.

The first impression is important in any interview. Even though I'd been practically guaranteed the job, I still wanted to give the best front I could. The problem was not going overboard, of course, but that was pretty simple for this situation. It wasn't a day guard position, after all, and I'd likely have limited contact.

A few hours after classes saw me checking myself out in front of a closet mirror, eying over myself to be sure I was ready. The navy-blue ball-cap labeled SECURITY in bright yellow sat snugly on my red-brown hair, a color mix a result of a Halloween costume I decided to keep two years ago. My SECURITY wind-breaker, also navy blue with bright yellow lettering, still fit comfortably loose on my lean muscled torso, especially over the plain white Oxford shirt. Professional, I decided, but still comfortable, especially since the rest of me was a pair of blue denims and some steel-toes I'd gotten in the habit of wearing.

For a moment, I decide to practice my 'guard face' in the mirror. You know, that expression you see on all security guards annoyed with someone, like they're inches away from making you regret being annoying. Mine was pretty good, if a bit rusty. I'd made a few trouble-some teen "toughs" change their minds about being further with it once. Then I practiced it as I let my hand fall to the night stick, a tonfa, I carried on my belt. It's a good non-lethal weapon I was comfortable with. It wasn't like I'd need a gun for guarding a pizzeria.

Wasn't like a gun would have helped, anyways.

Rico and Jon were both out, tending to their own concerns of course and likely not wanting to be disturbed by a phone call. So I left them a note explaining everything before dipping into the petty cash pot for cab fare.

Eleven 'o'clock, on the dot, I was gently rapping at the closed up door to Freddy's, trying not to smile at the nostalgia of the front entrance's simple charm. Freddy's had been the subject of rumors and horror stories even when I was a kid, but somehow that'd made it all the more fun. I was brought out of my musings by the sight of someone striding up towards the door. Not walking, striding. It was a surprisingly severe looking woman in her mid-30s, dressed in conservative woman's business wear the shade of slate grey. She carried a briefcase, and everything from her prim and proper brown hair in a bun to her no nonsense attitude that made her already sharp cheek bones look more like edges told me this was NOT David Ross, happy helpful day shift manager. Lawyer, corporate most likely.

That put my teeth on edge, even as she opened the door and greeted me with the coldest, most distant handshake. Ms Gibbins, she said her name was. The accent was New England high society, I guessed, and her choice to treat me as a dumb thug and not a professional guard was grating, but I'd worked for worse. I couldn't RECALL who or what, but that's besides the point, and I wouldn't tell her that as I followed her with my backpack on one shoulder gripped by whitening left hand knuckles.

We spent the next twenty minutes in the manager's office going over my paperwork and all the legal things I'd expected. Security work anywhere carries a risk of injury and possible death, so I wasn't surprised at some of what I had to sign. The NDAs, Non-Disclosure Agreement, kinda still stuck in my craw since it's a way for companies to legally cover their asses against anything short of criminal felonies, and even then expect a hefty legal battle for telling the cops your bosses are hiding bodies. Stupid, yes, but civil court is civil court. But I signed anyways, figuring there wasn't any harm.

All the paperwork done, Ms Gibbins left the building without even a 'welcome to the company' or 'good night'. Not even a 'don't break anything', which surprised me. She'd been like that the whole time, colder than an Alaskan Crab and just as prickly. Which was a shame too. She wasn't ugly or plain, but any good looks she had were overwhelmed by the tightness of her jaw and the semi-permanent glare and cold looks she'd had the whole time. First time I could really describe someone as 'frigid' and it was accurate.

No, force the thoughts from your mind, Jeremy. You're in charge now. She's gone, and you must make your rounds.

That put me in a better mood than anything else would have, my eyes lighting up. I'd walked Ms Gibbins to the front of the building and locked her out, so it was as I turned that I took a final look at the place under decent lighting. We were hooked up to the city power grid, true enough, but at midnight the whole building shifted over to battery power stored during the day to save money. It was enough to run the freezers and security equipment until morning, I was told by Ms Personality, and deemed cost effective. True, it may affect my ability to use certain security measures, but it was part of my duties to not run out of power before 6am and we reconnect with the city grid.

That got a roll of my eyes as I walked off and wandered the gaming floor. Probably the real reason was to keep these off and not give the night guard a way to kill time. Amusedly I recognized the old ski-ball wall units and the spider wacking foot game that pre-dated DDR, the old MK cabinet in one corner, and the usual other games of chance and skill kids would play for tickets. There were newer arcade games as well, a couple I knew, but those weren't important. The games weren't important, the ball pit was not important, but worth noting on my way to my true destination. The stage...

Freddy's stage in the dining area, where he, Chica, and Bonnie would 'rock out' and play generic rock songs for the kids while they had parties or just enjoyed pizza on a weekend after a sports game. The dining area, where I'd eaten many a delicious, cheesy pizza with my mom and my friends and delighted in hearing Bonnie play a guitar solo of one form or another. It hadn't changed since I was 18. Part of me got a little warm glow in my chest at that, but it was coupled with a quiet sadness.

Time away had given me perspective. The wallpaper was faded, so was the carpet from the tens of thousands of feet that'd walked it over the years. The rows of folding tables were still the same, all pressed wood and aluminum frame-work with leggings, the sheets covering them maybe newer than I remembered, but the chairs were all uniform and just as black as I remembered. No, that was a lie. I could see the faux leather was fading as well, from years of sweaty backs and buttocks.

Even the stage, a simple mock up with useful props to give it some life, looked like a lot of it could maybe use a fresh coat of paint and not too soon.

In fact, as I continued my first walk about of the building, I was surprised to realize how Freddy's really was showing its age. I knew it'd opened in the mid-80s, before I was even born, but it was another thing to realize just how on its last legs Freddy Fazzbear's really was. Details that'd never really caught my attention when Jon and I had been regulars came into such sharp focus I was a little surprised with myself for never noticing before. In that instant, as I was passing a closed up Pirate's Cove and an 'Out of Order' sign, I was struck with the idea of trying to revitalize the place, get Rico and Jon in on the project of saving Freddy's.

I paused in my thoughts then, looking inside the curtained spot at Captain Foxy and his 'ship' coming into the cove. There was a fake beach, a ball pit that served as the ocean, the front half of his ship where he'd command his crew of kids to-

My heart sank. "Oh no. Not you." I heard myself. Foxy, the pirate captain fox of my childhood, swashbuckler badass who'd given me a 'gold coin' for my eleventh birthday, sat on a 'rock' with the wear and tear of years on him. When I was a kid, Foxy had been my favorite, but I'd not come in to see him after I'd turned...what was it, fifteen? The big red fox-like humanoid had been rough looking when I was younger, but I couldn't recall seeing him in such a state of disrepair. Hell's teeth, he had bits of himself missing that revealed the metal skeleton underneath. His jaw didn't look like it even fit right!

For a moment, I was tempted to walk in there, to walk the place of my childhood left to decay and...and...

I turned away, walking determinedly. No, Jeremy. That's the past. You can do this. Just walk right down the hall to the Security office and do your job. Right, not too hard.
At the time, it'd been the third hardest thing to walk away from in my life. To acknowledge the things of my childhood would not be there for other children to experience. Hell's teeth, from the looks of things the whole Pizzeria would only be around another couple years. It seemed a shame. Maybe that petition wasn't so farfetched an idea.

I wish I'd stayed so ignorant.

The hallway from there to the back offices was a straight shot. From there beyond was a private room for parties, after which became the employee's only section. Break room with private fridge, small couch and table with chairs and a single old school, small box TV hung up in a corner. Off, of course. Supply closet, Manager's office, a couple lockers for employees to stash belongings in relative security, and finally my office.

"Well...shit." I muttered, stepping in to get a look at the place. I was underwhelmed, of course. Cheap linoleum tile like the hallway, a single swivel chair in front of a bank of monitors labeled 'for day use only' on an old 50s steel desk. The kind that you expect was the reason you 'duck and cover' when the bombs came. Desk fan, on and circulating muggy air, single overhead light...and a tablet. It was the newest thing in here, and a bit off putting until I picked it up.

Within a few minutes I had the thing figured out. Cameras were operating on a network accessible to this tablet, some wireless router hooked in the room somewhere I hadn't spotted. I brought up the app and tapped the mini-map set up for it. Not bad for Freddy's set up, I thought, thinking it unusual to have this kind of tech while they were trying to save costs.

I was brought out of the admiration and confusion by the striking of a battery powered clock on the wall, a big round deal that made a 'ding dong' as it struck twelve midnight. I heard systems go out all over the building, including every light but mine, as we switched over to battery power and my shift officially began.

And I decided to start it by making sure the doors were locked. No sense not being cautious.

Author's notes: Set up is all done and golden. Next week (hopefully) we continue the foray of young Mr Titus' first night into his very own horror movie, and I hope it will prove more entertaining than these few pages I no doubt bored you all to tears with. But from here on out, the days will be short and the nights not short enough...

… Sounds like a terrible trailer line...ANYWAYS! Come back next time to see what happens when a 190 pound young man kicks a 400 pound animatronic in the chest. Spoilers: Not as much as he would hope.