He'd told them, no weekends. He'd told them. Harv thought he'd been pretty accommodating with their (often stupid) demands. Bathroom duty? Fine. Overnight shift while they looked for a new security guard? Fine. Vomit clean up? Not fine, but he'd done it.

Apparently, "no weekends" was too outrageous of a request.

… well, at least the shift started at noon.

Harv's sedan coasted into the staff parking lot, engine grumbling its complaints even after he'd taken out the keys; he could only cross his fingers and hope it would turn on again, once it was time to make his escape. Eight hours from now.

He managed to drop his keys on the way out of the car, and they skidded across the asphalt, coming to a delicate stop beneath the car beside him.

Harv seriously considered leaving then and there. The asphalt— hot from the overbearing, mid-June midday sun— bit into his skin as he lay on his stomach to retrieve the keys. He was able to snag one of the keychains and pulled it back to him, then stood, rolling the object over in his palm.

His daughter had not been subtle in her questioning last weekend, as she pondered over the tray of glittering, multi-colored plastic beads.

"It can be one. Or more than one, if you want."

"Why d'ya ask?"

Heather tried to mask a smile, "Just wondering…"

Harv pretended to believe her, "Red. And blue. And yellow."

She set to work, clumsily stringing beads onto thick twine, her little fingers fumbling the task but never ceasing.

"Y'need help, jaybird?"

Heather shook her head, frizzy hair bouncing with the movement.

He doubted it, but let her be and returned to his phone. A little while later, the completed keychain was thrust into his line of sight.

"Happy early daddy's day!"

Between two knots that barely held themselves together were red, blue, and yellow beads. Letter blocks that spelled out "D-A-D-E." A heart, a star, and…

"A football, huh?" Harv sent his daughter a quizzical look, "What did'ja pick that one for?"

Heather answered with certainty, "Boys like football!"

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that." He tightened the knots, "Thanks, honey. I'll make sure I don't lose it."

She'd already rolled off the couch and returned to her beads, "I'm gonna make one for mommy now! For when she picks me up!"

Harv only frowned when he was sure she wasn't looking, then busied himself by attaching the new accessory to his keyring.

… the sun was beginning to seep in through the gaps in his hair, stinging his neck.

Noon shift. Just eight hours. Saturday crowd. Right.

Harv pocketed his keys, then his hands, and took in as deep a breath as he could.

Just another day. Suck it up, man.


"Harv. Hair. And put the phone away."

He peered up from his screen, confused, but complied with Rob's instructions.

"Sorry." He scoured his pockets for a hair tie, "Y'okay, Mr. Klein?"

A coughing fit cut off his initial reply. Rob had never been one to hurry— himself or others— or uphold the roles with much more than a passive acceptance. So the direct tone was new… and unwelcomed.

"I could be better." Rob eventually found his breath again, "A lot better."

Harv was coming up empty-handed, "Guessin' you probably don't have a hair tie on you, do ya?"

Rob huffed— or maybe it was another cough— and reverted to his usual self for a moment.

"Fresh out. You might try Vanessa. She's always got her hair in the…" Words evaded him, so he gestured, "The… she wears— ponytail. That."

"Will do."

"You'll be working with her today, anyway," Rob continued, "She's going to help keep an eye on the party guests—"

Harv stopped in his tracks.

"You got me running a party?"

Rob was looking at his phone, saving him from making eye-contact.

"I know," he replied, "I know it's not your usual job—"

"Yeah, it ain't," Harv snapped, knowing he should shut up but doing the opposite, "Weekends ain't my usual job-time, either. Pretty sure I wrote that down."

Rob looked up from his phone.

Harv's neck chilled in a cold sweat, immediately regretting the comment.

"I know," Rob repeated, patiently, "I'm sorry. A lot of people called off at the last minute, and you're— we're working with a skeleton crew today. Vanessa's coming off her night shift, and…" He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, "I'm sorry, Harv. I'm going to pull some strings and make sure you and Vanessa are both working on an overtime rate today, to make up for—"

"Well you couldda just started with that." Harv cracked a smile he didn't really mean, "I gotcha, boss. Me and Vanessa can handle a birthday kid."

"Two of them. Twin boys. Younger, I think… I'll need to check…" Rob glanced at his phone again, looking intimidated by it, "In a minute…"

"Checkin' your Tinder matches?"

The laugh sent him into another coughing fit, but it broke through his anxious demeanor again, which was Harv's intention; he hated to see the guy stressed like this.

"You're— going to— kill me." Rob hit his chest a couple of times to clear it, "No, there's… a little… problem that needs attention."

The vagueness was not reassuring, "Yeah?"

"One of the animatronics is… missing."

Harv blinked. Twice.

"Huh?"

"Yeah…"

"Just? Gone?

"Just gone."

"… boss, uh. How the heck do you lose a seven-foot tall metal robot?"

Rob seemed to come to a decision, pulling up his phone's contacts, "That is a great question, Harv." He added, "Oh, and don't… maybe don't bring it up to Vanessa, okay? She's stressed enough as is—"

" Ohhh yeah. Cause it must'a run out on her watch, yeah?"

"… it's… a weird situation, all around," Rob tried to minimize, "It's not her fault— but I'm sure she thinks it is, so… just… try to work around it, okay? If guests ask, just say he's taking a break today—"

"Who's the one missing?"

Rob found the contact he'd been dreading, "Bonnie."

"Gotcha." Harv rolled his shoulders, preparing for the shift ahead, "Y'calling in the feds to come find him?"

Rob put the phone to his ear.

"Ted."

"She's not in this week."

"I know."

"Like, she told me straight up not to call her this week. For nothing."

Rob offered a grimace, "I know."

Harv took that as his cue to exit, "Welp. Nice knowin' ya, boss."


Amazingly, closing her eyes and resting her head against the passenger side window didn't help Bayleigh tune out her mother. Or Braxton and Bolton, who were reaching across Breck's car seat to pinch each other on the arm.

"–his extra formula is in the diaper bag," Mrs. Reed continued, "In the same baggie as the wipes. You'll need to feed him around three. If the employees actually do their jobs for once–" Her plum-colored nails disappeared for a moment, fingers tightening on the steering wheel, "–then that should be around the time that everyone else is eating."

Bayleigh's frown twisted, "And we had to bring Breck, why?"

"Your father is sleeping." Her mother's reply was whip-quick, "And besides, it's father's day tomorrow. He deserves a break."

"Yeah, well it's Saturday today. What about Blaine?"

"Summer reading. He has school to worry about. You don't."

Bayleigh's neck began to burn, "By no choice of my own."

She heard the faint clink of her mother's dangly earring as her head snapped around to face her, "Don't. Don't start with this today. I have enough to deal with already, Bayleigh."

Bayleigh opened her eyes, searching for something out the window to distract herself from firing back, again. Nothing but the same old yucca plants, xeriscaped lawns, stucco homes, and a sea of scattered potholes.

"You've watched Breck plenty of times before, so you can do it again just fine." Mrs. Reed faced the road again, "It's your brothers' birthday party. Don't make today about you."

" Stooooooop!" Braxton hollered, "Stop touching me!"

Bolton floated his hand above his twin's arm, "I'm not touching you!"

"You're in my space!"

"I'm not touching you!"

"STOOOOOOOOOP!"

Breck, upset by the noise, began to fuss.

" Moooooooom ," Bolton yelled, "Breck's gonna start crying again!"

Bayleigh eyed the door's handle: they were only going 45 mph. She preferred a concussion to the day ahead.


About half an hour later, Harv had a similar thought.

His eyes all but glazed over as he stared out across the table of several shouting, squirming six-year-olds. There had to be at least eight of them, maybe more; they moved too quickly to get an accurate headcount. The two birthday boys were the worst of the bunch, with one crawling up onto the table and the other disappearing beneath it. In a matter of seconds, other kids were following suit.

Harv expected at least one of the parents to step in, but was sorely mistaken. The women had flocked together around a nearby table, on their phones or talking amongst themselves, completely disregarding the chaos that was well within earshot.

One of the twin boys was now standing on the table, trying to jump up and grab one of the balloon decorations.

"Shoot," Harv muttered, "Hey Ness, can you handle him? Don't think a mom's gonna like some guy walking up and grabbing their kid off a table."

Vanessa didn't respond. She was staring at something across the atrium. Harv followed her gaze, but didn't find much; a party of older kids were being led up the escalator into Mazercise. Harv felt a twinge of jealousy seeing the more or less orderly group.

The boy on the table jumped, making the balloons bounce. Harv felt a lawsuit breathing down the back of his neck.

"Or I can just do it," he snapped, "That's fine."

Still, Vanessa didn't respond to the comment. Rob had said she was coming off her night shift, so Harv decided to cut her a tiny bit of slack, this time. He strode over to the table, where the boy was still going at it, making the balloons bounce with each of his jumps.

"Hey kiddo," Harv greeted, "Y'know, table's not really for jumping. I know your mom's taught you that much."

The boy giggled, but made another grab for the balloons, which jostled and bumped against one another. So, Harv picked up the weight that held them in place and promptly removed them from the table and out of reach.

"No!" the boy shouted, trying to catch one of the strings and failing.

"Nah," Harv replied easily, "I'll give 'em to you, since you're the birthday boy 'n all, but only if you're playin' with 'em on the ground." He held out the weight, "Unless you think you're too little, 'n they'll just make you float away."

He saw the gears turning behind those mischievous little eyes… then breathed a sigh of relief as the boy hastily climbed off the table.

"I'm not too little!" the boy blurted, grabbing for the balloons once again. Harv relented, handing him the bundle.

"Guess not." He smirked, "Think it'll work on your brother?"

In seconds, he was running over to pull his brother out from under the table, and Harv couldn't help but feel a smug satisfaction as the accomplishment. He peered back at Vanessa, half hoping she'd witnessed his feat of expert manipulation.

Vanessa was still staring at the empty atrium, spaced out. Of course.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, making Harv flinch. The woman who'd made the sound– the red-headed lady who'd brought the twins in the first place– raised an eyebrow at his reaction.

"Sorry ma'am," Harv breathed a laugh, "Snuck up on me."

She didn't share his levity, "The party activities were supposed to start ten minutes ago."

"Oh." He eyed the table of kids, "Everyone's here, then?"

"Yes, they all had the courtesy to be on time."

Harv turned to face her.

Don't do it, man. Gotta keep this job.

He promptly returned his attention to the kids.

"Alright y'all." Harv stepped up to the table, "Y'ready to party?"

A few of the boys hooted their approval, but the majority continued to play amongst themselves. The twins still held a monopoly over the balloons.

"Ooookay." Harv addressed the ones who were listening, "So here's how things are gonna go: we're gonna gather y'all up and head on down to Monty Golf. Now it's a big place, so you're gonna wanna make sure to–"

"Josh!" One of the mothers snapped, looking up from her phone, "Sit still in your chair!"

Harv paused, then continued, "So, yeah. You're gonna wanna stay together, when we're heading there and when we're inside. Uh…"

One of the twins swung the balloons around to try and hit his brother– catching another boy instead. Crying commenced.

"Bolton hit meeeee!" He wailed, only to be pulled away from the table by his exasperated mother, and nothing was done to reprimand the balloon-wielding twin.

Harv snapped his head around to spot Vanessa, who was still paying him no mind.

"So yeah," he stressed, a little louder, "Officer Vanessa's gonna bring up the rear, to make sure no one gets left behind. Ain't that right, Ness?"

She finally returned to her senses, eyes flicking to Harv without recognizing him. Then, something cleared, and she nodded.

"Once we do get in, we'll get everyone a club and stuff," Harv continued, "And uh, moms? It's probably a good idea to keep on your kids when we're gettin' ready– y'know, them having stuff they can whack each other with. We don't need an Order 66 reenactment, yeah?"

Only one person reacted to the joke; a young, red-headed woman with a braid, holding an infant in her lap. She snorted a laugh, then avoided eye contact afterwards.

Tough crowd.


It took a brief eternity to corral each and every child into Monty's Gator Golf, and another eternity to get them all fitted with a club and golf ball. As predicted, the moment the young boys had a club in their hands, the swinging began.

Shockingly, no amount of half-hearted reprimanding from their mothers stopped the chaos, and Harv was content to let the feud fizzle out on its own.

One child– he was pretty sure it was one Bolton had whopped with the balloons, poor guy– managed to send his ball into a fake pond nearby, while taking a test shot. Wailing commenced.

"Honey," his mom comforted, "Honey, we can just get you a new ball–"

"I want that one!" he sobbed, pointing to his half-submerged green golf ball.

The boy's mother looked at Harv expectantly, and he did what he could to salvage his patience.

"Just… if you give me a second, I'll–"

"I can get it, if you want."

It was the girl with the red braid again, who'd laughed at his joke.

"It's not a problem," she continued, "I've– sandals. So it's easier to… get them off."

Harv gave Vanessa a look. She was rubbing her temple, and gave him a single nod.

"I mean." Harv shrugged, "Sure, if you wanna."

The young woman handed the infant she'd been carrying to the twins' mom, slipped off her sandals, and hoisted herself over the short fence that surrounded the fake pond. It didn't take long for her to make it through the few inches of water, retrieve the golf ball, and return to the group.

"Careful," Harv cautioned, "Gonna be slippery, comin' back up."

She nodded, and accepted the hand that Harv offered, getting back over the fence with ease. After taking a second to dry off the source of the drama, she handed the golf ball back to the now sniffling boy.

"What do we say?" Harv prompted.

"Th–thank you."

"You're welcome, Danny." She collected her sandals, and pretended not to see the woman who was trying to hand the infant back to her.

Harv caught the gesture, and inched a little closer to her.

"Hey," he said under his breath, "Y'want a club?"

She met his gaze, then offered a sly smile. Her face was flecked with freckles, and those pale blue eyes made Harv's heart trip over itself, momentarily.

"Sure," she agreed, "I'll keep the twins from turning the place into Mustafar."

He turned away in time to hide a grin. By the time he returned to his senses enough to do his job, the handle of a club was tapped against his chest.

Of course, now Vanessa had decided to pay attention. Her exhaustion couldn't quite smother the smirk on her lips.

"Focus on your job, Harv," she told him dryly.

He took the club, "Oh yeah, cause you're one to talk."

Harv gave the redhead her club, and casually side-stepped to block another attempt by the woman trying to hand back the infant.

"Birthday kids head out first," Harv told the group, "Vanessa's gonna stick with y'all, to make sure you don't run into any hazards or nothing." He peered back at the rest of the course, "And I'm gonna… make sure the last hole is good and ready for ya, when you get there." He winked at the twins, "Pretty sure there's a surprise waitin' there."

Bolton's eyes lit up, "What is it?!"

"He said 'surprise,'" the redheaded girl told him, "You'll find out when you see it."

"Do you know what it is, Bayleigh?" The other twin tugged at her arm, "Tell us tell us tell–"

"If you beat me at golf, then I'll tell you," she replied simply, "So, you'd better get to it."

The twins shot off down the course, arguing over who'd be taking the first shot. Harv decided that the young woman– guess her name was Bayleigh, then– likely had them handled, so he passed the gaggle of kids and moms in order to loop around to the back of the room.

Unlike the majority of the Pizzaplex, the mini golf course wasn't flooded with synth music or vaguely recognizable 80's covers, but it was far from quiet. Speakers pumped in a swarm of bug sounds, water sloshing, the occasional banjo twang… couple that with the eerie green and purple glow of neon lights, and it was amazing anyone could spend more than a few minutes in the area.

But hey, it beat Mazercise by a longshot. That place was bright , the music made your skull throb, and the maze itself was swelteringly hot. Harv wasn't about to complain about the golf swamp, lest he get sent to the pretty pink sweat lodge.

Harv made it to the back of the room, but still hadn't found what he was looking for. He scanned the nearby golf holes, even though he knew it'd be nearly impossible for someone that big and bright green to hide among the obstacles.

"Where…" Harv crossed his arms, "The heck…?"

Not eager to return to the party of kids empty-handed, he decided a better vantage point would be necessary.

And it was right at the entrance to the catwalks that he found what he was looking for.

"Monty," he called out, "Dude, what are you doing?"

The animatronic froze where he stood, one foot on the first step of the metal stairs that led to the catwalks. His eyes were wide when he turned to face Harv.

He blinked, then stepped off the stairs, "Hey, Staff Member Harvey!"

Harv nodded towards the catwalks, "Don't go up there, man. Pretty sure it's off-limits for you, anyway."

Monty laughed, a gruff and mechanical sound, "Guess it is, huh?"

"You go up there and fall, and you're gonna break pretty bad," Harv continued, "And I sure as heck won't be able to fix you. And you're not gonna want Ms. Sullivan fixing you neither, not today."

"I hear ya," Monty replied, still not quite the tone Harv was used to. His eyes drifted back to the stairs.

"... uh." Harv gave the stairs a suspicious look, "What were you tryin' to go up there for, anyway?"

For a few seconds, the animatronic didn't answer. It felt like he was staring at something that Harv couldn't see.

"I ain't sure," he eventually admitted, "I heard Staff Member Elsa say that Bonnie's gone missing."

"Yeah, I heard that too. You seen him?"

"Notta trace." Monty inched a bit closer to the stairs, seemingly without his notice, "But I don't think anyone's checked in here, yet."

"Huh." Harv snapped himself out of it, remembering who– remembering what he was talking to, "I'll tell Rob later. So he can come and check. Right now, I gotta snag you for a kid's party, man. G'head and go to Hole 18, to meet 'em when they're done."

That seemed to flip a switch in the animatronic, and he disregarded the stairs in an instant.

"You got it, Staff Member Harvey!" Monty sounded like himself again, "How many little guys are we talking, here?"

"Around eight. Somethin' like that." Harv leveled a hand near his hip, "Buncha little kids. Real rowdy— wouldn't be surprised if a couple took a swing at you with the clubs."

Monty just cackled, "Ain't gonna hurt me, none!"

"Don't be afraid to tell 'em that you eat kids who don't follow instructions," Harv suggested, "They'll prob'ly listen to you a whole lot better than they do me."

Monty had almost passed him, but the comment made him stop to laugh again.

"As long as they're having fun, then so am I!" He looked Harv in the eye, and his tone abruptly shifted.

"I don't let any killjoys on my course either, Staff Member Harvey. I eat those guys, too."

It was then that Harv was reminded exactly how small he was in comparison to the giant, near quarter-ton, quite capable of causing massive destruction, animatronic. His blood froze along with the rest of him.

Monty cackled, clapping a hand against Harv's chest, "But you don't got anything to worry about, do ya, Staff Member Harvey?"

Harv passed the wind knocked out of his chest as a laugh. It was difficult not to hone in on the claws at the end of the metal hand, very close to his neck.

"Course not."

Monty left without further comment, giving Harv a moment to reign in his scattered nerves. He wheezed a little laugh, dispelling some of the remaining fear, and rubbed a spot on his chest.

"… funny guy," he mumbled, to no one in particular, "Almost had me, there."

He'd never been more eager to return to a birthday party, almost jogging through the course in order to find the group again.

Relief hit him when he encountered the birthday twins and red-braided girl— Bayleigh, he reminded himself— at Hole 4. It was a tame hole; just a 90 degree corner and a hill, three hits to par. A bubbling fountain was nearby, unable to mask the sounds of the bickering boys.

"Hurry up!" A twin urged the other, bouncing where he stood at the foot of the hill.

"You took your time," Bayleigh told him evenly, "He gets to do the same thing. You can wait ten seconds."

Of course, this prompted the impatient twin to start counting, practically shouting the numbers, " One, two, three—"

The other twin whacked his ball with the fury of a thousand suns, sending it shooting down the course until it cracked against the far ledge, and of course, came rolling back to where he stood.

The counting twin stopped just long enough to laugh obnoxiously at his brother's misfortune, "Ha ha! You're losing!"

Harv sensed the oncoming meltdown, and quickened his pace to join the group.

"You're almost to the hole," he told the teasing twin, letting Bayleigh handle the other half of the situation, "Remind what your name is, kiddo?"

"Bolton," he replied, sounding exasperated, "Everyone confuses Braxton and me, cause we're twins and look the exact same."

"That's what I was thinkin', yeah." Harv tried to sound as invested as possible, "I'll see if I can keep it straight while y'all are here."

"It's easy to remember," Bolton blurted, "My teacher says she can tell us apart real easy, cause I'm the one who's always in trouble and doing what I'm not s'posed to."

He said it with a matter-of-fact tone, but without the grin he'd possessed up to that point. Harv found it a little easier to dip into the shallow well of his patience.

"I heard that a couple times when I was in school, too." He gestured to Bolton's golf ball, "Tryin' to make it up the hill, Bolt?"

Bolton, reminded of the game at hand, whacked his ball with the same passion as his brother— unsurprisingly, it shot into the air, launched by the incline of the hill, and cleared the ledge that was meant to stop it.

Harv hurried after the ball, snagging it before it could escape into the nearby fountain, and placed it back onto the green near the hole.

"How 'bout you try taking it a little more gentle?" Harv suggested, "Too hard and it's gonna coast right over the hole. Think you can do that?"

Bolton strode over the little hill, placing himself behind the ball and eying the hole with steely concentration. He pulled back the club to take a shot—

Harv caught it with one hand, "Nuh-uh. Not real hard. Think like… if a "one" was a little gust of wind, and a "ten" was as hard as you possibly could, go for like, a five. Middle-ish."

Bolton peered back at him, "If one's a little wind and ten's as hard as I can, what's a five?"

"Uh…" Harv racked his brain, "… like, uh. Nudging a puppy that doesn't wanna go outside. Y'know? Not gonna hurt him, but you gotta move him, still."

Bolton's eyes lit up, "Ohhhhh!" He returned his attention to the ball, swung back his club with a much less alarming force, and hit the ball.

It rolled forward at a steady pace, plopping into the hole with a satisfying clunk.

Bolton leapt up, "Yes!"

"What did I tell ya?" Harv held up a hand, "Up top."

He was able to convince the boy to wait (somewhat) patiently as Bayleigh helped Braxton through the course, past par by a large margin, though no one brought that up.

"Alright," Harv told the group, "Looks like y'all are ready to move onto—"

And the twins were off, running down the path that led to Hole 5.

"—shoot."

Bayleigh shrugged, "They'll tire themselves out, eventually."

"Hoping so." He turned back to her, "Oh, wait, I bet Ness is up— uh, Officer Vanessa's not too far up ahead, anyway. Didn't she head out with y'all?"

"Well, she did," Bayleigh replied, "She walked off pretty quickly, though."

"What?" Harv frowed, "I… ugh. Alright. Did she say she was coming back?"

"I don't think so," Bayleigh admitted, "Honestly, I didn't even realize she was gone at first."

Harv resisted a groan, "She's been like that, today. Just real tired, I think. Sorry 'bout that."

"No worries." Bayleigh took a golf ball out of her pocket, dropping it near the start of the course and readying her club, "I know that feeling."

Harv stepped off the course to give her space, "So uh. I saw the twins come in with that one lady, who you gave the baby to. He yours?"

Bayleigh stopped what she was doing, "Hm?"

"Is the baby yours?" The moment he said it, Harv regretted it, "I mean, uh, that's not really my business—"

She cut him off with a quick bark of a laugh, "Oh! No, no. He's—" Bayleigh pointed after the twins, "They're my brothers. The baby is too. "That one lady" is our mom. I was brought along to watch Breck." She returned her attention to the game, "The baby."

"Gotcha."

Bayleigh hit the golf ball hard, at an angle, so that it ricocheted off the ledge and into one of the ledges bordering the hill. It took the slope at an angle… and rolled back onto the path without clearing the hill.

"Ooh," Harv hissed, "Almost."

She gave him a mock-chastising look, and continued with the course.

"It was close to having the power it needed," he continued, "Y'almost had it."

"I assume I'm talking to the expert golfer of this place?"

Harv grinned, "Nah, that's Monty. But I'd say I'm second place."

"Oh really."

"You spend enough time here and you basically become a golf master." Harv side stepped to be in her line of sight, "Could always be worse."

"Yeah?" Bayleigh lined up her shot.

"Been in Mazercise before?"

"I haven't."

"It's worse," he told her simply, "Racetrack isn't much better. Louder, lotsa more ways for kids to get themselves hurt. Haven't seen a major crash yet, but I know it's gonna happen one of these days."

Bayleigh succeeded in getting her ball over the hill, but it stopped disappointingly short of the hole.

"So you're the expert of the mini-golf course and the racetrack hazards," she commented, smirking, "They're probably paying you well for that, right?"

He snickered, thrown off by the comment, "Oh yeah, course." It took him a few seconds to conjure up his own rebuttal, "Prob'ly nothing compared to your overtime babysitter pay, but."

Bayleigh rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, "Right."

"I'll take mini-golf in a swamp over that," Harv said, "Dunno how you do it. I swear the daycare people here are gonna be the first to lose it."

"Yeah?" Bayleigh lined up another shot.

"No doubt. They got this little guy in there who can not sit still for five seconds—"

A baby's sudden cry made them both jump. Bayleigh accidentally sent her golf ball into the ledge.

"There you are!" Mrs. Reed snapped, stalking over to the two of them. Breck was red-faced and wailing in one of her arms, the straps of the diaper bag clutched tightly in her other hand, "What are you doing? You're not here to play around!"

Beside him, Bayleigh visibly stiffened. Her whole demeanor shifted, from something inviting and lax into cold defensiveness. She set her gaze just to the left of her mother, rather than meeting her eyes.

"Breck has been crying for five minutes," Mrs. Reed told her, "Where have you been, this whole time?"

Bayleigh's voice was even, "Watching the boys."

"And?" The woman's tone echoed a clear "gotcha" of superiority, "I don't see them around. Do you?"

Harv spoke before he could think better of it, "They're at the next hole. With Officer Vanessa. She's watching 'em, ma'am."

Bayleigh used his interruption as her in, "If he's been crying for five minutes, why haven't you done anything about your child? Shouldn't you be a little more qualified for it than I am?"

He cringed, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire. Sure enough, the woman's face reddened, and she stood taller— then proceeded to direct her rebuttal at Harv.

"And what are you doing? Is following my daughter around a part of your job, now?"

It was Harv's turn to go red, and he scrambled for words, "Uh—"

"She's nineteen," Mrs. Reed told him, "Don't think I won't tell your manager about what you're doing. I doubt he'll want to employ someone with that kind of interest in children."

Harv opened his mouth, then hastily shut it again. He needed to study the irritating fake green of the golf course just to keep his emotions at bay.

Bayleigh brushed past him, mumbled an unintelligible apology. In the few seconds it took, Harv noticed that her freckles had disappeared into the flush that filled her entire face. He was pretty sure her eyes were beginning to pinken, too.

He made himself busy elsewhere, picking up her dropped golf club and ball, and keeping his back to the two women. There was a shuffle, and the cries of the baby began to fade little by little. Harv allowed himself to sigh, but the tightness remained throughout his body.

When he stood, he realized that Mrs. Reed had never left. She continued to watch him, eyes narrowed and arms practically welded together across her chest.

Harv steadied himself, but his tone still betrayed an edge, "Ma'am?"

She huffed a breath through her nose, unimpressed.

"You're getting paid to do your job," she told him bluntly, "So you might as well do it." Mrs. Reed straightened her shirt, disrupted by the fussing baby she'd been holding, "It's a parent's job to protect their children from anyone who could be a threat. Though I don't expect you to know anything about that."

Harv remembered the golf club he was holding. And really didn't like that that was the first place his mind jumped to, in this situation. But he couldn't shake the thought, either. Because everything else in him was saying that the thought was a really, really good one.

And you know? It was a pretty compelling argument.

Not far away, one of the twins began to shout over the ambient sounds of the golf course, and it shook Harv out of his stupor. His head swam, and he realized he'd been holding his breath.

He turned unceremoniously and headed in the direction of the twins. Luckily for them all, Mrs. Reed didn't comment on his silent exit.

Harv abandoned the golf club a few steps later, propping it against one of the fences that surrounded another small pool. He didn't like holding it, anymore.


By the time the rest of the children finished the golf course, Harv was sure the twins were nearing next year's birthday. Fortunately, Monty had enough energy for the entire group (and then some), keeping them entertained while their mothers lingered cautiously nearby. A few looked close to fainting when Monty scooped up a swarm of cheering children in one arm, but once it was clear they wouldn't be dropped, they relaxed and returned their attention to their side conversations.

Harv received resistance from the kids and Monty when he announced that it was time to move on, but bit by bit they were bribed into obedience with the promise of pizza and cake.

Monty waved at the crowd of babbling children, "Have fun, little guys! And happy birthday, rockstars! Come back and see me again sometime, y'hear?"

There was a chorus of goodbyes sent his way, and Harv led the swarm, inches at a time, to their reserved party room in the Superstar Daycare. Dead as the pizzaplex was that day, the daycare was a barren wasteland, occupied only by looping, maddening, hokey music— and now them.

The party room table was already lined with sugar in every form: candy, gum, juice boxes, soda, cookies, and on and on. The kids set to work dismantling the sweet, colorful offering, replacing the shouting and chatter with the arguably worse cacophony of open-mouthed chewing and crunching.

Harv found a spot in the corner nearest to the party room door and made himself unnoticeable. By now his temper had more or less fizzled out, but he didn't want to risk whipping it up once again.

Gotta keep the job. He took in a breath, steadying himself a little more, It's just people runnin' their mouths on stuff they don't know nothing about. Let 'em. Don't matter. Do your job and let 'em.

He could just barely hear the squeak of his radio over the chaos, so Harv slipped it out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

Nothing but fuzz.

As he was returning it to his pocket, he heard the squeak again. Back to his ear it went.

Fuzz.

Harv switched the thing off, pocketing it with a bit more finality this time. If it was so important, they'd come and find him.

The party dragged on. Other workers brought in pizza, which was similarly devoured by the hyperactive kids. At the edge of the group of moms, Harv spotted Bayleigh, who seemed to be avoiding eye contact. He couldn't really blame her.

Finally, someone arrived to make his life a little easier. There was a knock on the party room's door, and Harv opened it a crack, peering out.

He nearly knocked heads with Kylie, who tried to peer in simultaneously.

"Jeez," she blurted, "Sorry."

"No problem."

"Got Freddy and the cake. The kids ready?"

He frowned and let the volume inside speak for itself.

Kylie exhaled slowly, then rolled her shoulders, "Alrighty then."

Harv left the party room and propped open the door, "Good luck in there."

Behind her, Harv spotted the man of the hour, and he offered a wave.

"How's it going, man?"

Freddy returned the wave, "Hello Staff Member Harvey! Have you been having fun at the birthday party?"

Harv laughed, very much forcing it. And held the door open for animatronic.

"I'm fixin'ta ask you the same thing, in a couple minutes."

Once Freddy had entered, Harv cut off the uproar of happy kids by shutting the door, remaining on the outside. He sighed, loudly, and tilted back his head until it bumped the wall he'd slumped against. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could even tune out the daycare center's music.

Finally. A minute to rela—

"HARV!"

His heart all but exploded, and Harv shot upright. Before he could even turn, Rob had latched onto one of his arms— hard.

"Sh—" He caught himself, "Sorry Mr. Klein, I w—"

"Why haven't you been answering your radio?!"

Harv assumed his boss was enraged, but the longer he looked, the more he doubted himself. Rob was red in the face, and the hand he'd latched onto Harv with shook. His eyes were wide, but he wasn't actually looking at Harv— his eyes were everywhere else.

"It was…" Harv lost his train of thought, "I thought it was glitching out. It was beeping 'n all, but I didn't hear anything—"

"Is Vanessa with you?" Rob interrupted, "She isn't answering either."

Harv shook his head, "No, she ran out on me a while ago. Boss, what's going on—"

Rob swore, releasing Harv's arm to mesh the bridge of his nose.

"Boss," Harv repeated, "What's with you? What's going on?"

Rob took an extra second to collect himself, then nodded for Harv to follow him.

"Need you. In Parts and Services. Right now."

"What ha—"

Rob was already walking, closer to jogging, towards the exit of the daycare center, giving Harv no choice but to follow him.

"Why? What's the problem?"

Rob started to reply, but was cut off by a coughing fit. He wasn't able to speak again until they'd made it to one of the daycare exits, leading out into a wing of the main atrium.

"Accident." His voice was strangled, so he rapped on his chest a few times and tried again, "There's been an accident."

Harv's neck went cold.

"Who?" he breathed, hardly above a whisper, "Who got hurt?"

"A few kids. In the Mazercise party." Rob was walking again, fast, "They'll be alright, I—" He coughed, spoke through it, "Most is superficial."

" Most? "

"Medical is coming, but it'll be a little while." He stopped at the escalator that led to the second level of the atrium, "Ted should've brought her to Parts and Services by now— do what she tells you. Don't give her trouble, okay? Not today."

"I don't give Ms. Sullivan trouble any day—"

He trailed off, eyes settling on the entrance to Mazercise. Parents and children alike lingered around the entrance, sticking to small clusters. Even from the floor, Harv could hear someone crying.

"—and if you see Vanessa," Rob continued, ascending the escalator, "Get her on radio. I'll need her to let in medical, when they get here."

Harv didn't get the chance to answer; Rob jogged up the rising escalator, leaving him baffled at the bottom platform.

Eventually he shook himself out of the stupor, heading towards the center of the atrium and its massive stage. Every table was empty, many with chairs still pulled out, awaiting their absent occupant. Something about the relative silence of the place, broken only by distant crying and a low, faint, unbothered musical track, was unnerving.

Harv made it up the stairs to the stage and hurried to the center, where the stage lift was usually flush with the floor, blending into the stage around it. Only now, all that remained was a large, gaping maw where the lift usually sat.

In use, Harv realized, God, that's a massive deathtrap, right there.

Well, this meant either waiting around for the lift to be sent up, or taking another route down to Parts and Services… so, stairs. A metric ton of stairs.

But then he remembered: there was another lift. Several, actually. In Rockstar Row— the lifts in each of the character rooms!

You've even used those ones before, genius! He chastised himself, with a little levity, as he left the stage, Come on, man. You're startin' to lose it.

Only a few steps past the stage, Harv stopped.

He felt… it was crazy, but he was pretty sure he felt…

… shaking beneath his feet.

The feeling lasted for a few seconds, then disappeared. Harv looked around, searching for a sign that he hadn't imagined the whole thing.

On the atrium tables, the balloon bunches were jostling, bumping into one another with diminishing severity.

Harv exhaled, "What… the actual—"

And then he saw it. A small crowd, flooding out the entrance of Roxy Raceway.

He remained in place, like a deer in headlights, and felt his stomach begin to retract into his feet.

Please be a coincidence please be a coincidence please be—

A parent saw him and ran— quite literally ran— over to where he stood.

"Are you an employee?"

Harv could only nod.

The woman pointed back to Roxy Raceway, "Someone crashed on the racetrack— into a— something broke, and a car flipped—"

Harv was already running past her, past the people going the opposite direction, and into the mock-desert racetrack. He fumbled for his radio, switching it on and trying not to drop it as he spoke.

"Boss— gotta problem—"

He answered mere seconds later, "What? What happened?"

"Some lady said— there was a crash on the racetrack—"

"Where are you now?"

"I'm— goin' there—"

"Medical's already coming. See if anyone's hurt, and let me know. Get everyone out the best you can."

"Got it—"

" DON'T— don't move anyone who's hurt, understand me? If there's a head or neck injury— just— just don't move them. Stay nearby, and let me know. Understand?"

"Yessir."

Most of the guests had fled the area by now, making it feel even more like a desolate desert. When the racetrack itself was in sight, Harv climbed over the fence, landed ungracefully on the asphalt, and kept on running.

He passed a few abandoned go-karts, none of which showed any damage, before approaching a turn in the track; it was tight, and beyond the fenced wall of the track was a large fake rock structure.

And it was now collapsed onto a kart.

Two brown-haired girls lingered nearby, seemingly trying to peer over the wreckage, and Harv felt his heart shoot up several bpm.

"Hey!" He nearly tripped over a large crack in the asphalt, but paid it no mind, "Get away from there!"

The girls turned, looking more concerned than afraid.

"I think she's hurt!" One called back to Harv, "She won't say anything—"

"Go find y'all's parents," Harv cut her off, "Go! You're gonna get hurt bein' out here!"

The other girl— Harv realized they were probably twins— stood her ground.

"She went too fast and crashed into the wall," she told him, "And made the rock fall. It was so loud, and the whole floor shook—"

"I said go!" Harv repeated, letting his tone sharpen a little more than he liked, "Now!"

They seemed to take the hint; one grabbed the other by the wrist, and they both ran off towards one of the track's exits.

Harv rushed to find an easy way past the wreckage, but was coming up empty. The kart was half crushed by the fallen fake rock, and both were tangled in the broken, fenced wall. The largest gap he could find was big enough for his arm, but nothing else.

He was undeterred, lodging a foot against the hood of the kart, and using it to boost himself higher, within arm's reach of the top of the fence.

The wreckage shifted under his weight, and Harv missed his grab. He tried to latch onto a fence pole instead, but there was nothing to catch. When his foot slipped, so did the rest of him.

There was a sudden pain in his shoulder, followed by a much milder one in his nose as it was bumped into the fence. Harv reacted on instinct, grabbing any part of the fence he could reach, and braced his foot against the concrete base of the wall. This time, he didn't fall.

Once his panic subsided, he realized what had stopped his fall in the first place: a hand, wrapped around the base of his arm.

A metal hand, cracked down the middle.

Harv's brain took a second to catch up, but he eventually gathered it enough to speak.

"Roxy?"

The animatronic released him, retreating back into the darkness beyond the fence.

"No— hey, hold up—" Harv scrambled to make it past the obstacle, barely fitting through the widened gap up top, and only just able to lower himself safely to the ground on the other side. His eyes adjusted to the shadows a bit at a time, and he could make out the silhouette of the animatronic that was currently trying to evade him.

"Roxy!" He bolted forward, and was able to catch her arm, "Hey!"

Roxanne stopped— and tried to yank herself free. Harv's hold was tight, but as a result, he was easily pulled off his feet by the animatronic, nearly tossed to the ground in front of her.

" Hey!" Harv rooted himself in place, "Watch it! You're gonna kill me like that—"

He looked at her face. The remains of it.

Roxanne made a sound like a cry, covering it the best she could with one hand, but Harv had gotten a good view of it by then.

Her muzzle had completely caved in, crushed like a soda can, and her lower jaw dangled loosely, attached by only one corner. The rest of the metal casing around her face was scuffed at best, dented and split at worst, and one of her eyes had been smashed in, looking like an eggshell full of wires.

Harv's initial comment came out as a useless hiss of air, and his second try wasn't much better, "Whoa. You got busted up real bad."

Roxanne, despite the damage and useless jaw, was still able to sob.

"I— I— cr—crashed—" Her voice betrayed its mechanical nature, squeaking with feedback and stammering out of damaged speakers, "I th—ought—I saw— s— s—"

"Was it just you who crashed?" Harv questioned, "Didn't hit no one else? No one got hurt?"

Roxanne shook her head, but her crying continued.

Some of Harv's panic evaporated, realizing he wouldn't need to dig a child out of the wreckage, but now a new problem was on his plate. He fished out his radio, still keeping his grip on Roxanne's arm to prevent another escape attempt.

"Hey Mr. Klein? No one's hurt," he panted, more winded than he'd thought, "Roxy managed to crash and wreck part of the course. Got beat up real bad—"

Her sobbing was renewed, and Harv strained to hear Rob's voice.

"—to Parts and Services. You said everyone is out?"

"Uh." He turned towards the gap in the wreckage, as if he'd be able to see anything past it, "Yeah, think so. Chased some kids out, but everyone else was already headed that way—"

"If you find another employee, tell them to watch the entrance."

"Will do. Medical guys here yet?"

"Ten minutes away."

"Got it." He clipped the radio on his belt this time, knowing he'd inevitably need it again, "Roxy, we're headin' out. Gonna take you to Parts and Services, to get fixed up."

She resisted his pull again, "No—"

Harv scowled, "You got a better idea?"

"I d— don't want—" The gears in her jaw whirred, trying to operate the broken part, "Any—one—to see me—like this—"

In spite of the situation, Harv scoffed, "Yeah, you and me both— parents'd sue us for their kids gettin' nightmares."

The wailing that followed let him know that it was definitely not the best thing to say, so Harv mentally kicked himself and tried again.

"No one's gonna see you!" He snapped, patience waning, "We're gonna go through the back, alright? The back hallways— it'll get us to your room and we can take the lift down. Ms. Sullivan's already there fixin' something else. Got it?"

Roxanne's cries petered out, and she eventually nodded, still covering her face with a hand.

Harv huffed, "Alright… so c'mon, then."

He felt more than a little silly, leading a giant animatronic by the hand through the gray hallways. Thankfully (or maybe concerningly), there were no other employees around the point that out to him; he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his mouth in check, if pushed another inch.

The two weaved through the bare, silent hallways, arriving at the equally empty Rockstar Row. It was always freezing in the giant room, and Harv realized how much he was sweating, the cold air hitting his neck and making him shudder.

He really, really hoped Rob would pull through with that promise of overtime pay, if not a raise. As if any amount of money would ease the high blood pressure he was developing.

Harv was able to get Roxanne into her room's lift, and after a long, quiet ride, they finally made it to Parts and Services.

It was even colder in here, and Harv stole a second to rub his arms, already covered in goosebumps. He didn't dislike the place— few employees bothered to wander down this far, which gave him a chance to chill— but with all the pipes and machines mounted everywhere, there wasn't much space for a heater.

He rounded a corner, only to skid to a halt at what he saw— Roxanne bumped into him, which in turn made Harv yelp. The small ruckus drew Ted's immediate attention.

She squinted, "Why is—" Roxanne's condition became clear, and Ted's confusion turned to frustration.

Harv was more thrown off by Chica, who was waiting patiently beside the repair cylinder in the center of the room. She looked more or less the same as usual, minus the gaping black hole in the middle of her face where a beak used to be.

"What happened to her?!"

Ted's answer was cut off by a hideous shrieking sound, making Harv plug his ears. He saw Ted whip around and yell something at Chica, which made the noise stop.

"I told you to stay quiet!" Ted snapped at the animatronic before turning back to Harv, "Get Roxanne over here."

He did as he was told, leading Roxanne by the arm towards the others. When they were near enough, Chica rushed to Roxanne's side, looking as concerned as she could with the missing facial features. She reached out with both hands, placing them on either side of Roxanne's mangled face, even as the wolf tried to evade her.

"Stay there," Ted told the two animatronics, already pulling something up on the computer attached to the repair cylinder.

Harv figured he'd been forgotten, which was not unusual when dealing with a stressed Ted, so he kept his mouth shut and waited for her instructions.

He did notice, with a lack of anything else to do, the state of her: it looked like she'd slept in her clothes, and though she'd worn her hair loose for once, it was a frizzy, frazzled nightmare, barely smothered by an old baseball cap.

She jerked her attention back to him, already glaring.

"Roxanne's not getting fixed anytime today," she told him shortly, "We're startin' on Chica."

Her eyes were red at the edges, made even more apparent by the dark circles beneath them.

"Yes ma'am."

She turned back to the computer, finding what she was looking for, "Somethin' malfunctioned in the sound system, with her. Dunno if it's physical or a software screw up. Beak synthesizer'll be able to show if it received bad code or caused it and sent it back. 'f not, gonna need a full scan." The sound she made could best be described as a snarl, " An' I'm gonna bet we're gonna need a full scan."

He saw her reaching blindly for the beak, so Harv picked it up himself, handing it over. Ted grunted in place of a thanks, fished around inside the object and yanked out a wire, promptly plugging it into the ancient computer. It whirred with effort, filling the screen with lines of green code.

Harv happened to glance behind them, and caught the end of what was probably a hug between the two animatronics— a hug on Chica's end, anyway. Roxanne relented just enough to allow Chica to hold her hand, and it looked like it reassured them both.

… god, these things are insane.

"It's not the beak," Ted growled, yanking the piece free, "Course it's not. Came from inside."

"What'cha need me to do?" Harv offered.

Ted didn't seem to hear him, "Chica, in the cylinder. Gotta do a scan."

She flinched at the sound of her name, shrinking into herself and moving closer to Roxanne.

Ted stepped forward, "Chica, I'm not doin' this today—"

"Roxy's not going nowhere," Harv assured, "C'mon. Ms. Sullivan's not gonna hurt you or nothin'."

Just as it seemed they'd be listened to, a door flew open into the room— and there was Rob, looking much worse than the last time Harv had seen him.

"Y'alright, boss?" Harv hazarded, "Things haven't gotten any worse, right?"

"Don't jinx it," he coughed, "People are— mostly out—"

"Catch your breath," Ted told him flatly, "Don't need you dropping, too."

"Medical should be about… five minutes now, yeah?"

Rob nodded, "Something—like that."

"People are out of the raceway," Harv began, somewhat to himself, "Puttin' 'em in the atrium, if they didn't go far. You were the one handlin' Mazercise—"

"We'll need everyone out," Rob managed to add, "Eventually. The ones who don't— see medical and— take the hint."

"There's a party still in the daycare," Harv remembered, "You want me to—"

"They're outta the way there," Ted cut in, "They got staff?"

"Kylie," Harv said, "And Freddy, if he's sticking around there—"

"Anyone on Monty?"

"Uh." Harv rubbed the back of his neck, "Last I saw 'em was in the golf course. Left 'em to take the kids to the daycare. Last place I saw Ness too, was there."

"You're right about the daycare party," Rob said, "Let's keep them there for now." He straightened up, stretching his back with a pained sound, "We're down two animatronics. Bad luck or not, I don't want that number going up— we need eyes on the others."

"Monty's probably still in the golf course," Ted assumed, "I can get him."

"Most of the— parents have control over the kids in Mazercise," Rob told them, "I'll be able to wait at the entrance for a bit, to get medical where they need to go, but—"

Harv held up his radio, and didn't bother sweetening his tone, "Hey Ness? Now would be a real great time to answer your—" He used a few terms he could've done without, "—radio, because we've got a problem here, and it'd be real great if you could do your—" More colorful vocabulary, "—job for once today."

"Harv," Rob scolded, "That's enough."

Ted shrugged, a smirk threatening to take root, "I dunno if it was, actually."

Before she could receive a similar lecture, the radio beeped.

"What the hell is your problem, Harvey?!"

Rob was quicker on the draw than Harv, making it to his radio first.

"Vanessa! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Ted let the smirk bloom, but had the decency to hide it by busying herself at the computer. Harv joined her, merely to avoid whatever Rob was about to send through the radio.

"Might as well have you start on repairs down here," Ted muttered, "Three of us can handle upstairs. Get Chica scanned, write down the errors it comes up with, wait for me to come back. Got that?"

"Yes ma'am." He paused, "Redsox, huh? You a Boston fan?"

"Mm?"

"The hat."

Her momentary lift in mood vanished, and Ted turned back to the computer, pretending to care about what was on the screen.

" 's not mine."

Rob pocketed his radio, coughed into his sleeve, then did his best to address the two.

"Vanessa's going to make sure the raceway is empty," he said, his voice strained close to its limit by then, "When she's done, she'll let Kylie know what's going on, make sure that party stays put."

"Harv's gonna stay here and start fixing things," Ted told him, "That fine?"

"That'll be okay. Keep your radio on."

"Will do."

Rob took in a deep breath, huffed it out, "Alright." He glanced over at Ted, "Ready to head out?"

"Nope." She passed him, headed for the hallway that led to the main lift, "Let's go."

Harv called after the two, "Good luck, y'all."

He didn't get a reply, but wasn't offended. They were all tired out past the point of friendly conversation. Once they were out of sight, Harv turned his attention to the animatronics, who were eying him expectantly.

"Well. You heard Ms. Sullivan." He nodded towards the cylinder, "I'll go quick as I can, Chica. The sooner you get in, the sooner you get out."

It took some bargaining, then begging, but by the time Harv had been pushed to the precipice of his patience, Chica gave in and entered the cylinder.

"Thank you," he breathed, truly meaning it, "Finally."

Harv pulled a chair up to the computer, feeling the ache of his feet as he gave them a break for the first time in hours, "Alright, let's get this done, quick 'n easy."

But "quick and easy" was not on the agenda for today. Because before Harv even had the chance to initiate a scan, the room was filled with a shrieking siren. Red lights flashed from the alarms mounted on the wall— fire alarms.

And then the sprinklers activated.

Harv's shoes provided little traction against the wet concrete floor, but he managed to pull Roxanne into the opened repair cylinder, getting them both out of the range of the water. Chica had leapt up from the chair inside, latching onto Roxanne's arm once again— and, to his discomfort, one of Harv's.

He watched as the room began to fill with puddles, equipment became drenched, and everything got far more difficult than before. The siren continued to blare, and Harv felt a headache crunching his temples with each wail.

Harv sighed, sagging to slouch over his knees. It didn't ease the headache.

God. Today is the worst.


Bayleigh watched the surrounding chaos, unmoved.

Not the worst day I've ever had, honestly.

She balanced Breck in her lap, holding her hands over his ears to muffle the worst of the blaring fire alarm… and the shrieking children, currently running around the small party room.

Kylie and the moms were making a valiant but ultimately futile attempt to reign in the mutiny, which Bayleigh had decided early on to ignore. After all, she was here to watch Breck, right? Breck was behaving perfectly. No sense in doing anything that could change that.

After a few minutes, the alarm cut off, leaving just the sound of screaming kids.

Bayleigh hoisted Breck into her arms, standing to peer out of the party room's window. Inside the daycare center, a small downpour was soaking the carpets, the tables, the playground— everything in sight.

She hissed in a breath, propping Breck up against her chest and using a hand to cover one of his ears.

The workers here are going to have an awful time mopping up all this water.

It sounded like the majority of the yelling had been replaced with the exasperated threats of their mothers, and finally, order was returning.

And then Bolton approached Bayleigh.

"What're you looking at?"

She nodded out the window.

Bolton's jaw dropped, and he shouted back to the other kids, " Guys! It's raining inside!"

And just like that, the peace was shattered. Bayleigh simply watched as each and every child followed Bolton out the door and into the soaked daycare center, squealing as they were hit with the cold water.

The sound was only drowned out by the shrill, displeased shrieks of the moms as they ran after their kids, only to become just as soaked by the sprinklers. Not a single child came willingly, scattering in every direction to avoid their pursuers.

Bayleigh didn't bother hiding a grin, assuming she'd finally snagged a moment to herself.

She heard the door open again, turned, and her heart jumped.

"Wait— wait!"

Freddy stopped at her instruction, nearly ready to step into the fray.

"Won't you…" Bayleigh hesitated, oddly self-conscious about talking to the animatronic, "Like, break? In the water?"

He looked back out into the daycare center, only now seeming to notice the hazard.

"I may."

"Probably… better to play it safe, then." She nodded back towards the room, "The adults can handle it. They're their kids, and none of them are going to short out."

Freddy hesitated a few seconds longer before shutting the door, staying inside the party room.

Bayleigh returned her attention to Breck, who was clearly not as pleased with the situation as she was— he started to fuss, resisting her hold.

"I know, dude." Bayleigh bounced him a little, "I want to go home, too."

She heard the animatronic approach, stopping beside her. Only now did she realize just how massive he was, towering over her by at least two feet. He definitely matched the theming of the place: brightly colored, shiny, and demanding of your attention.

"What is his name?"

Bayleigh looked up at him, "Breck."

Freddy tilted his head to one side, and through a series of tiny shifts— his ears perked up, eyebrows raised— his expression brightened.

"Hello Breck!"

Breck continued to fight against Bayleigh with all his infant might, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Sorry." She made sure he was secure in her arms, "He's tired. And wasn't a fan of the fire alarm."

Freddy reached towards them, and Bayleigh jumped back, surprising them both.

"I am sorry." He immediately retracted his hand, "I should have asked."

"No, you're okay," Bayleigh insisted, amazed at how real the animatronic's apologetic tone sounded, "You just— caught me off guard, is all. And, um…" She nodded towards his hand, "The claws."

Freddy glanced down at the neon blue nails, and promptly retracted them into his fingers. He looked back at Bayleigh, as if seeking her approval.

"… that's. A neat trick." She paused, and awkwardly shuffled to refill the distance she'd made, "For paranoid people like me, I'm guessing."

Freddy used a finger to tickle Breck's stomach, which earned him a wide-eyed, curious look from the infant. The gesture was far from that of the clunky, bumbling robots she'd expected to encounter at this place. Bayleigh relaxed, just a little, but kept an eye on her brother nonetheless.

Outside, the kids (and moms) continued to whip up a racket in the ever pooling water. She was pretty sure it was Bolton who streaked by, in the process of removing his shirt.

"You guys should invest in a water park," Bayleigh joked. It took her a second to remember what she was talking to, and she became weirdly self-conscious again.

Freddy watched the running kids for a moment, then made a low sound.

"It can be dangerous to play in the water," he mused, "They may slip and get hurt, if they are not careful." Freddy paused, "… but there are parents nearby. And Staff Member Kylie." He paused again, then added, "And… it does seem like they are having fun. So perhaps… it will be alright, for now."

Bayleigh snorted a laugh at the human-like rationalization, "They'll be fine. Just wet. They're making fun memories, right? That's the important part."

Breck's fussing had died out a little while ago, but vanished completely now in lieu of giggling. He reached out for Freddy's hand, who gave it willingly… and, Bayleigh expected, the infant promptly pulled the animatronic's finger into his mouth.

"Nope." She helped Freddy free himself, "Not food, buddy. You can play, not eat."

Freddy chuckled, and though he allowed Breck latch onto his hand once again, he took care not to let himself become another attempted meal.

Braxton and Bolton chased one another past the window, both shirtless. Mrs. Reed's fury could be felt through the glass.

Bayleigh took in a breath, "So you have to put up with this kind of thing everyday, huh?"

Freddy tilted his head, "I have not seen the sprinklers turn on, before."

"I mean," Bayleigh tried to clarify, "You know, wild and crazy kids."

"Ah." Freddy's tone brightened, "They do have a lot of energy."

She didn't think she was being understood, "I mean…" Bayleigh thought, then tried another angle, "Do you ever get tired of it? The ones who are super loud, or misbehave, or the ones who go nuts and break stuff?"

He replied immediately, "Of course not!"

Bayleigh blinked, "Really?"

"One of the best things about the young guests is their energy," Freddy said, "It allows them and others around them to have more fun. I do not think there is anything wrong with a lot of energy, do you?"

A kid sprinted by, whooping all the way.

"Not… necessarily."

"It is important for them to be safe," Freddy continued, "And obedient, and to avoid breaking things. But you do not need to scold to achieve that." He looked up at Bayleigh now, "It is much easier to set an example of what is correct, and encourage others to copy your actions, than to say what not to do."

Bayleigh didn't respond immediately. Once she'd gotten over the mild shock of receiving childcare advice from a robot bear, she coughed a small laugh.

"I guess that's true." She smirked, "You're good."

Freddy laughed, "I have practiced copying others, in order to be so." He shrugged, almost modestly, "Bonnie is even more patient than I am! I suppose if I am good, it is because he sets a very good example."


Once every single ounce of water had been expelled onto the floor and the sprinklers sputtered empty, Harv emerged from the repair cylinder, managing to remain upright all the way to the computer. He dumped water out of the keyboard, then jiggled the mouse.

It actually worked.

"… huh." Harv sat in front of the computer, "That's… somethin'."

He talked Roxanne out of the cylinder, getting to work on Chicia's diagnostics scan. Durable as the computer was, speed was not one of its best stats; the time estimate he was given was half an hour.

Just as he was beginning to convince himself that the wobbly metal chair was a little comfortable, the door behind him opened.

Harv spoke without turning, "No more new disasters, right?"

"Not in the mood."

Vanessa was not the person he'd expected to hear, and Harv whipped around in his chair.

"Well hey! Where you bee— oh sh—"

Vanessa looked just as disheveled as the rest of them, but she was not the first thing that caught Harv's eye. No, the most noticeable thing in that general direction was the scuffed red dolly that she wheeled in front of her. And on that dolly was Monty.

The top half of Monty.

Harv nearly slipped from the chair in his haste to stand, "What the hell is going on today?!"

"I don't know," Vanessa huffed, "It just keeps getting worse—"

"Hold up!" Harv stopped her before she could walk onto a ramp, "Water's gonna make it slippery. Lemme spot ya."

He helped her wheel the animatronic down to the level of the repair cylinder, parking the dolly at the foot of the ramp. Harv hazarded a closer look at the animatronic, who'd apparently been turned off.

"You do this to 'em?" Harv joked.

Vanessa was unamused, "He was up in the catwalks again. Someone triggered the… that bucket with all the plastic balls. It knocked him off, he fell and broke."

Harv cringed, "Jeez." He looked back at the remains of the animatronic, "Told ya you weren't supposed to be up there, big guy. See what happens?"

Vanessa groaned, seeing the other animatronics, "This is ridiculous…"

"You see Ms. Sullivan? She was s'posed to be headin' to Monty Golf—"

"I saw her," Vanessa cut him off, her expression sour, "She chewed me out."

Harv hissed a breath, "Yeah, she'll do that if she's havin' a bad day."

"As if any of us aren't, today."

He shrugged, "Well, y'know. She's s'posed to be off. Rob said it's somethin' about a couple days a year that no one's s'posed to bother her. Anniversary of somethin' bad, I'm guessing."

"Hm." Vanessa glanced over at the repair cylinder.

"Medical come?"

"They're here. At Mazercise."

"Good. You see Kylie and the daycare party?"

"No."

"Weren't you s'posed to go let 'em know what's happening?"

Vanessa shrugged.

Harv didn't bother debating her further, taking out his radio.

"Mr. Klein, what'cha want us to do with the daycare party?"

A few moments passed in silence before he got a reply.

"Get them to wrap it up and head out."

Harv frowned, "Oh they're gonna love that."

"If they give you trouble, say it's management's orders. Let them be mad at me, not you."

"You got it, boss."

"I'll watch the repairs," Vanessa offered, though it came off as a command.

"You know how to work this thing?"

She sat at the computer, "Yes."

"When did…" Harv abandoned the question, "Alright, fine by me. Y'happen to see if the main stage lift is up, again?"

Vanessa shrugged.

Harv frowned, "Always fun talkin' to ya, Ness."

She turned slightly to glare at him.

"That's not my name."

"Fine." No sense in attempting to be friendly anymore, then, "Vanessa."


Kylie was already in a bad mood, soaked and shivering, and Harv's news didn't help cheer her up.

"Oh great," she whispered, "That's exactly what the parents are gonna want to hear—"

"Lemme handle it," Harv assured, "Rob told me to just blame management. He'll deal with it later."

"If kids start screaming again, I'm walking out."

"Walk out after we get 'em out of the daycare," Harv bargained.

"Ugh, whatever."

The two of them approached a huddle of parents, and the moment they were in sight, Harv's favorite person in the whole world, Mrs. Reed, beelined towards them.

"There you are!" She was drenched like everyone else, and Harv was surprised that the sprinkler water wasn't evaporating from the heat of her wrath, "Where have you been?! It's been a disaster here! What kind of a place is this, setting the sprinklers off for no reason?! It's a safety hazard—"

Harv successfully hid his glee as he interrupted, "I'm sorry you feel that way, ma'am. There's been an accident with another party, and we had to tell the medics where to go."

A few of the parents listened in, their displeasure replaced with wide-eyed concern. That concern didn't reach Mrs. Reed, who continued with the same fury.

"It's not my fault that you don't have enough staff to do your jobs properly! Where—"

The interruption probably wasn't necessary, but Harv relished it anyway, "I hear what you're saying, ma'am. But I'm sorry to say that you all do have to leave the premises, to give medical space to work and for your own safety."

It was like he'd lit a firecracker and forgotten to step back— if he'd been a foot shorter, she'd have been in his face.

"Excuse me?! I paid for this time slot! You have no right to make us leave before it's time! You get me your manager right this minute—"

Harv forced himself to take a step back, but the same discipline didn't make its way into his tone.

"Ma'am, look. There's a couple things goin' on that take priority over yours kids' birthday party— people actually got hurt, to the point where we had to call in medical guys. You wanna talk to my boss? Call 'em on the way out. He's got bigger problems than you to deal with, right now."

The stunned silence that followed gave Harv time to flinch, realizing he'd said that last part out loud. Behind him, Kylie's jaw had dropped. In front of him, Mrs. Reed did the same.

Harv tensed up.

Oh no.

Mrs. Reed's face was pale, " You—"

"Mom, come on."

Bayleigh hurried over, Breck balanced in one arm, a twin on each side of her.

"They're wet. They're tired. They can just open gifts at home." She pulled a face that made a mockery of sincerity, "I mean, today's not about you, right? Isn't that what you told me?"

A silent stand-off happened between the two, and Bayleigh's relaxed demeanor never wavered. In the end, with a sound that almost made Harv want to pity her, Mrs. Reed stormed off, grabbing a twin's arm as she passed.

Once he was out of her sight, Harv almost collapsed from the relief that hit him.

"Thank you," he breathed, "God, thank you—"

"What happened?" The remaining twin interrupted, apparently oblivious to the situation, "Why'd you turn the sprinklers on?"

Harv shook his head, "Nothin' to worry about, kiddo. Just an accident." He straightened up, "What do ya say? Fun birthday?"

The boy beamed, "Yeah!"

"That's what I wanna hear." He offered a hand for a high-five, "See ya round, Bolt."

Bolton's eyes widened, "Hey! You got it right! Me and Braxton even switched shirts to trick people! You weren't tricked!"

"I told'ja. I'd remember."

Bayleigh tugged on her brother's hand, "Let's go. Dad's going to want to hear all about what happened."

Bolton didn't need to be told twice, dashing forward and pulling his sister along for the ride.

Harv spoke up, "Hey, uh Ba—"

Bayleigh was already out of earshot; she had a few seconds to offer a smile, more apologetic than anything, before joining the rest of the retreating parents and kids.

"I'll lead them out," Kylie interrupted Harv's train of thought, "We'll take the doors that go to the main entrance. If you handle the rear, make sure no one gets left behind."

"Yeah." He shook himself out of the moment, "Yeah, gotcha."

He lingered behind, watching the meandering guests, accompanied by low voices and the squish of the wet carpet.

Yeesh, what a day.

Harv took the radio off his belt, deciding it was safe to pocket it by now. He slid it in… but noticed something that concerned him. Harv stuck a hand in his pocket, felt around, then tested the other.

His keys were missing.

"Crap." Harv checked them again, then his back pockets, and came up empty still, " Crap!"

"Staff Member Harvey?"

Harv jumped, "What?!" His mind registered the animatronic, "What, Freddy?"

Freddy's concerned expression looked genuine, "Is something wrong? Why was the fire alarm triggered? Why are the guests being evacuated—"

"Freddy," Harv interrupted, searching the ground around his feet, "Dude, I'm sorry, but I don't have the time right this minute. Just— go to your room and stay outta the way, alright? Don't need you breaking too and makin' things even worse than they already are."

"Breaking… too ?"

Harv left before he'd spoken, jogging after the remains of the party guests.

Freddy remained where he was, mulling over what he'd been told.

Perhaps… if there is trouble, it would be best to stay out of the way and avoid causing more of it.

So he did as he'd been told, leaving the daycare center via the atrium exit. He immediately realized that the music in the area had been turned off, which was only supposed to happen at night after all the guests had left. Even in the lull, he didn't hear the sounds of guests— laughing, talking, anything.

He didn't think he liked the quiet, very much.

Freddy headed in the direction of his room in Rockstar Row, which brought him out into the quiet atrium.

Then, there was a sound— a voice! It initially made him perk up, knowing he wasn't alone, and Freddy searched for the speaker.

He recognized Staff Member Rob, but that only cheered him up for a moment. Guests stood in clusters around the entrance to Mazercise, attended to by medical personnel… with an especially large group standing around a stretcher.

Someone has been hurt.

His first instinct was to ask Staff Member Rob to explain, but it was clear to see that he was distressed, lingering near the group around the stretcher. He, as well as many others, looked worried. Afraid.

Freddy idled in place, unsure of himself. Staff Member Harvey had told him to go to his room, but… he wanted to know what had happened. Was everyone alright? Who had gotten hurt? Could he help? But he didn't want to make things worse, either… he had a knack for getting in the way, he'd been told before. Now wasn't the time to get in the way, if someone truly was hurt…

Staff Member Rob spoke into his radio, and Freddy could just make out what he said:

"Ted, are you there? Did you find anyone in Monty Golf?" He waited for a reply, and when none came, he tried again, "Ted? Everything alright?"

Ted? Oh— Ms. Sullivan is here? Where?

She would tell him what had happened; Ms. Sullivan always explained things to him until he understood, and didn't tell him he was in the way, even if he sometimes suspected he was. She would tell him.

Staff Member Rob had mentioned Monty Golf, so that's where Freddy went. Perhaps Monty had malfunctioned— it was not a rare occurrence, and Ms. Sullivan was often called in to repair him. That's where they must've been.

The room was empty, but not silent; the ambient sounds continued to play, here. The carpet was wet just like the daycare, and the squishing muffled Freddy's heavy metal footsteps.

He walked the length of the golf course, still finding no one. Freddy's confusion grew, but he continued to walk.

"Ms. Sullivan?" He called out, "Are you here?"

No one answered him. He kept walking.

"Monty?"

Still nothing.

Near the end of the course, he found something he didn't expect: a green plastic ball. And nearby, a few more.

Oh! Someone must have tipped the splash bucket! He was proud of his deduction, Good for them! But that still does not explain why everyone is gone.

He waded through a path full of balls, taking care not to crush any underfoot. He'd almost made it to the end of the course now, and was beginning to wonder if he'd made a mistake, looking in here.

And then, he heard something. Freddy froze, listening for the sound in case it came again.

It did. It sounded like…

Breathing, I think. Or… maybe it is crying.

The thought sparked new urgency in him.

Crying?! That is not good. Someone is alone here and crying— perhaps they are lost? If so, they are certainly afraid— I have to find them, to help!

"Hello?" Freddy called out, "Are you lost? Do not worry; I will help you find your parents, again."

The sound continued, and Freddy followed it the best he could, around a fake cave mouth on one of the golf holes.

"You do not have to be afraid," he continued, "You are not alone, anymore. I will keep you safe—"

He emerged from behind the cave, onto the course beyond.

Ms. Sullivan lay on the ground, propping up her upper half with shaking arms. There was a strange black device within arm's reach, a torn hat not much further away.

Blood seeped from one of her arms, and a spot on her forehead. She was breathing audibly, and quickly.

"Ms. Sullivan?"

Her eyes flicked over to him, wide and unblinking. The blood from her forehead was trickling into one of her eyes, mixing in with tears.

And then Freddy noticed the second body, a few feet further down the course.

Bonnie lay face-down, an arm stretched out in front of him. He didn't move.

Nothing happened. Freddy had the feeling he was supposed to do something, to say something, but nothing came. His mind wouldn't work. The commands didn't come. He stared at Bonnie, seeing and understanding… but not.

"Bonnie?"

His friend didn't respond.

A spark of understanding, so jarring it was almost painful, shot through him. Freddy flinched. But still, it wasn't quite clicking. He continued to stare.

"Bonnie?"

Bonnie didn't respond.

Ms. Sullivan lowered herself to the ground fully, her eyes unfocused and breathing just as severely. It was easy to tell she was crying, now. Shaking.

Freddy stared. He thought he understood. But didn't want to. He waited to be corrected, shown his mistake. He wanted to be mistaken.

Something inside him hurt.

"Bonnie?"


Oh hey look at what we have here– another chapter. After… quite some time, whoops. You know the drill by now: real life stuff, mainly. I got a new job which starts in the fall, so if I play my cards right (questionable), I'll have the summer to post more (likely one) chapters. Anyway, thanks for reading! Hopefully I can keep the story afloat long enough for the influx that will come with the DLC and upcoming movie . That would be something. Have a nice day/night and thanks again for reading!