Have any of you ever had those days where you want to write but you're just too lazy to do it? That's me every day.
I'm really, really, REALLY sorry for not updating until hell froze over, I just had writers block because FNAF 2 completely screwed over the plot of this story, but now I know how to make it work and I'll be writing this again.
Again, I'm truly sorry for almost abandoning this story. I hope you can forgive me.
Remember Me
-Chapter 2: Gateway to Hell-
Sometimes life gets tough, you should know that.
You may think it will get better, but really, it is the start of the decent into madness.
I didn't realize I had already arrived at the old building when I stopped my car. I was zoned out for most of the drive there. I exited my car and approached the doors…but I stopped myself. I stared at them, they were…lifeless, yet full of life…beckoning, pulling, tearing at my mind, telling me mentally that this is my terminal.
And yet, said feeling was gone in a flash.
I wiped sweat from my forehead and grasped the cold, iron handle to one of the doors. I took a breath and yanked it open. The front lobby was small, nothing but a reception desk and a few posters that hung on the wall. They were worn out and some of the corners were hanging limply. They depicted Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica. They each read, in this order; "Fun Time!", "Party Time!", and "Eating Time!". What I immediately noticed was the absence of a fourth poster, one depicting the familiar crimson buccaneer that read "Sailin' Time!". Confused, I stared at the square on the wall from which it once hung. I knew where it was because the rectangular imprint didn't have any particles of dust collecting on top of it.
The desk wasn't inhabited by anyone, so I assumed the place was closed for the hour. I went over to the main door that lead to the dining area, and when I walked inside, the motion sensors kicked in. The lights flickered on; yellow, purple, blue, some red and green, a little bit of white.
And these were the normal lights. Or disco ones featured orange, black, darker purples and blues, lighter blues and reds, some orangey-yellows, and much more.
"Ah, you're Mr. Schmidt, correct? Joshua's son?"
I was caught off guard by a man who approached. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, a blue suit on with a black tie on, a white shirt underneath. He had on a pair of glasses and held on to a black walking cane with a gray knob on top; reminiscent of Freddy's microphone…color-wise, I mean.
"Um…yes…who are you?" I asked. I didn't remember anyone like him working here from when I was a kid. He must've been the new owner, I assumed.
"Name's Jay, Jay Gabbs." The man outstretched his free hand towards me, and I shook it, smiling a bit. "I hear you're looking for a job here?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Gabbs. I'm here to carry on my dad's legacy, so-to-speak." I replied.
"Figured as much." He smiled and led me down the west hall towards the stairwell that led to the second floor. Up there were the employee offices and cubicles, though from what I could see when I got up there, they had remained unused for a long time.
"I wondered why anyone would want a job here, considering your, uh…history, and such." Mr. Gabbs commented. I shuddered as I remembered that day, all those years ago.
"Indeed, sir, indeed." I agreed.
"Though the few denizens who have decided to work here certainly help in keeping this dream alive." Mr. Gabbs said.
We entered his office. It was my dad's old office before he died, and the crazy, funky, awesome designs were replaced with plain, light blue paint on the walls, and a hideous gray colored carpet on the floor. Two large ferns rested in the back corners of the room, and a four-paned window let light in on the left wall. A bookshelf was against the back wall, and two pictures hung over it. One was an old, black and white photo of my dad with a caption that read; Joshua L. Schmidt – Owner 1977-1997 – Born January 16, 1931; Died November 13, 1997 – Age 66. The next was a colored photo of Mr. Gabbs with a caption that read; Jay Y. Gabbs – Owner 2001-Present – Born February 10, 1951 – Age 56. The center of the room had a beautifully crafted desk made of smooth mahogany wood. A small, black leather chair sat behind the desk, whereas a plastic foldout chair sat in front. I took a seat in the foldout while Mr. Gabbs sat in the leather chair. He passed me a stack of papers and a ballpoint pen, one with a Freddy Head on top as an ink eraser.
"Just fill out the application." Mr. Gabbs said. "You already have the job, as you have a lot of personal ties to this place, but my other workers will give me hell if I don't make you do this…" He muttered something to himself as he fiddled with a pencil.
"Yes sir…I guess." I filled out the papers and handed them to him before being given a small card.
"You'll wear that during day hours. It's just a name tag." Mr. Gabbs explained. "Just write down your name, age, and catchphrase."
"Catchphrase?" I questioned.
"Kids these days like catchphrases, right? Something perky that you can tell kids if they get sad or want to be entertained." Mr. Gabbs explained. "Just look at mine!" He showed me his card that read; Jay Gabbs, 56 – "With every 99 losses comes 1 win!". I personally thought that was a pretty bad catchphrase, but I went with the idea and wrote down; Michael Schmidt, 30 – "Nice to see you, to see you…nice.". Yes, I know, that's a phrase that's from The Generation Game, a movie from 1971, but hey, I like that movie, so cut the crap and let me keep telling my story.
Mr. Gabbs took his card back and gave me a pin to attach to the card. I also received a uniform; the design hadn't changed much from when I originally worked here all those years ago, but hey, who cares?
"Now, you'll be working two shifts." Mr. Gabbs began his, what, third explanation today? "You'll be a supervisor during the day from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM. You'll also be the night guard, which runs from 12:00 AM to 6:00 AM. Your paycheck will come from your work as a night guard, not from your work as a supervisor. Got it?"
"Yep, seems easy enough." I said.
Damn, was I wrong.
"When on my shift do I get a break?" I asked.
"You can take two 30 minute breaks on your supervising shift, each break within a different hour." Mr. Gabbs responded. "Your night shift, however, will not have any breaks woven in, as you must be on duty one-hundred-percent of the time until six in the morning."
Mr. Gabbs then led me to my office, which was connected to the end of the West and East halls on the first floor. The office was small with nothing but a chair and desk, two small, single-paned glass windows on each wall. Two buttons were on each wall, one reading 'Door' and the other reading 'Light'. My curiosity piqued and I pressed the left door button. A large metal door slammed downwards, rising back up when I pressed the button again.
"The doors and lights conserve power when used at night, and if you happen to run out of power…well, the fridges in the kitchen will no longer be powered, and the food will thaw and go bad." Mr. Gabbs said. "I highly recommend you remain in your office until the end of your shift, unless you have to go to the restroom facilities, in which case I recommend taking extreme caution."
"Why should I?" I asked. "Hell, why do we need doors? What, is there some pizza monster coming to kill me?"
I left the office before he could answer.
That night, I began my first night shift. It didn't seem too hard during the first few minutes, I looked around my office and checked out the doors and lights.
Then the phone rang.
I decided not to answer it directly and pressed speaker.
"Hello? Hello, you there, Mr. Schmidt?" A voice asked.
"Um…I'm here, mister…?"
"My name is Henry, Henry Kabancinski, but I'd prefer it if you just called me Henry. I'm one of the other night guards that works there; I take your shift every other week." The voice said. "I decided to call you up and give you a few pointers, even though you worked here before…that's correct, right?"
"Yup, that's right. My dad brought me a lot." I answered.
"Right. Your dad was great, I bet." Henry said. "Anyways, welcome to Freddy's…again…and I'd read you my legal script and document that I'm supposed to read, but I'm sure you've heard it before."
"Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, a magical place for kids and grownups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life, blah blah blah; that's bunch of boring shit I've heard over and over." I rolled my eyes to myself.
"Hehe, alrighty then. Moving on…" Henry continued. "I understand you have emotional ties to the robots, but we still say that you can't touch them under any circumstances…besides, it would be best not to go near them in the long run…"
I raised an eyebrow at that.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, in order to prevent their servos from locking up at night…uh, we set the robots in a free-roaming mode so they can walk around the restaurant." Henry explained, his voice becoming slightly jittery.
"Yeah, I know that, I've been here before."
"Yes, but here's the kicker…they don't have the ability to see like they used to…all they can do is hear things, and their AI tells them were to go, so they'll head for your office." Henry paused. "Uh…in the instance of an animatronic appearing in said office, it's highly recommended that you just shut your doors to keep them from entering. Keep them closed until they wander off, though, uh…gotta conserve power and all.
"The fact that they can't see anymore also makes them prone to removing you from your office, as they won't be able to identify you as human…rather as a metal endoskeleton that's lost its way."
I sat up hearing that, confused and a bit shocked at what Henry just said.
"Because of this, they'll most likely-"
"Wait wait, hold on, they'll try to remove me from my office cause they think I'm an endoskeleton?!" I interrupted the man.
"Um, yes, unfortunately, they're quite…rowdy, you could say." Henry said. "As I was saying, after taking you from your office, they'll take you back stage and…forcefully shove you into an empty Freddy suit, one filled already with wires and other metal pieces and devices."
"…but…my friends…"I muttered under my breath. I couldn't believe what he was saying. Those robots, my friends, my family…were going to try and kill me?
"But who knows? Maybe they'll recognize you as a friend, and it'll be a happy reunion!" Henry suggested. "Uh, then again…in case anything goes awry, just, you know, do the door trick, it should help you in the long run.
"Anyways, that should be just about it…if you need anything from me, just call, and good luck. I'll see you for your day shift later, and I'll call you again tomorrow.
"Alright, good night."
Henry hung up, and before I knew it, I was alone. With a large amount of unease, I picked up a small tablet that was on the desk in front of me and turned it on. I flicked through the cameras nervously, and nearly jumped when I looked back at the show stage.
Bonnie was gone.
Madness will consume you, your paranoia is growing.
Staying in one place, looking everywhere, it's an endless rift of confusion and loneliness.
-(End Of Chapter)-