Hi everyone! You may have already seen this story before, and you're right, please don't report me. I have full permission to use this story as the former writer and I are good friends. A couple of things:
1) I want to note that I did change this story around. So for the O.G. readers, please keep an open mind.
2) Glitched is a non-canon story in relation to the Security Breach's and the FNaF series timeline.
3) This story primarily focuses on Chica, with some chapters reflecting other characters to enhance the plot.
4) I don't expect this to be a slow update, but I may be delayed with the upkeep. For one, it can be intimidating to try and uphold the same story that was a treasure and my friend had put everything into it.
5) Enjoy!
"Attention Glamrocks! It is nearing showtime! Please report to Parts and Services!"
The Dread Unit announces. This is not a typical announcement that welcomes visitors with preppy messages, enticing food menus, or other events happening within the Mega PizzaPlex. Instead, this has been announced into intercom of the Glamrock animatronics from their destinations:
Freddy from entertaining a group of children in a game of Fazer Blast. He survived an ambush when the little tykes 'accidentally' shot his eyes, stunning him onto the floor before they climbed on him like he was some jungle gym. The intercom call came minutes before he was supposed to continue another round. It was a blessing in disguise, for he learned that not all children are as innocent as they may appear.
Having received a customized hand mirror from an adoring fan, Roxy could not pry away from her reflection. It had been better than to utilize all of her energy to avoid having a tantrum after losing several races. Plus, it never hurts to instill self-talk of confidence from time to time (or from minute to minute). She would carry the mirror into Parts and Services while others made room for her to walk.
Monty was positioned to win his 20th hole-in-one, with a group admiring his game and level of confidence. His intercom buzzes, seconds from implementing his strategy, throwing the gator into an angry fit and scaring away much of the crowd. He would go on to be serviced with a boiling rage that can rip a thousand bots to pieces.
In a hidden corner in Rockstar Row, out of view from the peering guests, Chica pretends she's playing her guitar. She doesn't do that much, preferring to physically feel her fingers across the strings. She's tempted to retrieve her guitar.
She could see the red door leading to the underground tunnel, but a three-second dash may catch the prying eyes of numerous children. They'll go after her, begging for a hug, a chat, an autograph, a photo, an endless line of demands.
Chica loves being around children. The sounds of their laughter and cheers warm her circuits. She would never want to see the disappointed look on their faces.
Yet lately, she couldn't shake the desire to put on a fake smile on her face. It felt off. It is in her programming to be friendly, but deep within her mainframe, she felt off. She didn't feel herself.
It had been hours ago, around four in the morning, she'd left her green room. An overwhelming combination of frustration and anxiousness encouraged her to elude those 'emotions' she had been experiencing.
She had done hours of searching. Even with an installed internet connection, having access to knowledge within seconds, there wasn't a single website, article, or podcast that would connect a robot with an artificial intelligence mainframe, with feelings. Those parents were right when they insisted to their stubborn children that the internet didn't have the answers for everything.
Chica sat on the stage, reeling in quietness as opposed to the area filled with fans cheering for her and her bandmates. It had been nice before she had been startled by Freddy. He had followed her out of concern like the true best friend that he has been. She was certain that everyone had been done for the night, and in that stance, she would be thankful to be found by a friend, instead of the apathetic guard on his hourly security rounds.
And in return, she had let Freddy know about how she had been feeling. How she felt and wanted nothing more than to be shut down for an entire day, or two.
"It is likely that you are experiencing burnout."
"I thought machines don't get burnt out?"
"You may not feel it the way humans do, but the same concept applies to us. We have been doing a lot more shows than our mainframes would allow. Regardless, every creator and creation needs a reset, human or machines. Vanessa would not use a computer if it was not working the way it is supposed to."
Freddy had given her the suggestion to be absent and rest. They had made him a stickler for rules, a trait that has left the mascot at ends with Monty and Roxy, but mostly Monty.
All four of them were required to be present during business hours, even when there were no shows or special events. So it is unlike Freddy to advise against authoritarian rules. The fact that he advised with no hesitation, that is something that isn't programming, but rather observation. It's one of the things she loves about him.
And so, the entire day, she had gone incognito, moving from place to place in the back rooms. She mostly heard from Vanessa and Gregory. They lend their assistance in helping her stay out of sight.
"Chica? Come in, Chica. We have about a couple of hours before the guest of honor arrives, come down here." Vanessa's voice rings through her intercom. Chica could faintly hear Gregory talking (most likely to Freddy) about whatever goes on inside that head of his.
"I'll be right there." She responded internally.
Opening the door to her green room, she notes a reminder to clean up when she can. Dozens of weeks-old pizza boxes were stationed on the floor.
Freddy (and Vanessa), would often remind (and scold) her to maintain a clean room, and Chica does, to an extent. People purposely leave takeout boxes of pizza, out of rudeness or unintentional sacrifices to idolize her existence, and she doesn't hesitate to reject such gifts.
Perhaps a clean room could help her feel better.
The scent fills her systems with glee. To a human, a two-week uncontained smell would ignite nausea. To Chica, it is the comparison of a human's prized perfume.
Her insides craved for a slice. To sniff the sauces and feel the hot, greasy cheese, the meat, and meatless toppings. She's already imagining how that perfect pie is being made from the chef-bots to hungry guests.
It fills her with joy and jealousy. She wanted to be able to devour a slice without it messing up her systems. She wondered what it would be like to be able to eat and digest food like the humans, and not fight, byte after byte, the need to eat anything that smells or looks remotely familiar to pizza to satisfy her.
Autonomically, she sets off in a direction to one of the closest pizzerias, unseen from the public eye.
A few minutes wouldn't hurt. And I won't attempt to eat, just a smell. A good-luck charm to hype my energy into overdrive and end the night with one of the best performances ever.
"Where is she?!" Vanessa asks frantically (more to herself and not to anyone in particular), looking from the clock to the security cameras and back to the clock.
It's almost eight, it's been two hours and Chica still hasn't shown up. With every tick the hands on the clock make, her anxiety increases.
Being a security guard and technician is a blessing and a curse. She loves being tech-savvy and having a value other than being seen as a pretty woman. The knowledge she obtains has aided her in multiple situations during her tenure at the PizzaPlex.
On the other hand, her job now consists of doing two full-time job duties for the price of an already underpaid employee. Ever since Gabe joined the greed train of utilizing advanced A.I. robots, almost all human employees have been replaced.
She had asked and demanded several times for a raise as the profit margins flew high. And in contrast with those several times, Gabe would argue that it wasn't in the budget. However, he has no problem pulling into the parking lot every day in his flashy gold Bugatti looking like a billion-dollar prick.
"Would you quit fidgeting?" Monty shooting her daggers is still pissed about missing out on a lifetime shot.
Vanessa mirrors the same expression to the alligator. She hates to be told to relax. A typical performance night is stressful enough to make her pull her hair out.
Tonight is no ordinary concert because the guests in attendance weren't just the average Joe. Philip Bowen, songwriter, best-selling author, holder of ten Grammys and her admirer since she was twelve, will be coming. An entertainment center far out of a choice of fun for the forty-something-year-old, but the perfect selection to host his twins' birthday party and dozens of their friends.
"You want to perform tonight, yes? Then shut up." She silences Monty, pressing a button on the control panel. "Gregory? Freddy? Did you guys find her?"
"We don't see her."
"All of her usual hangouts are unoccupied," Freddy adds, worry laced in his tone. "But there is still the other half of the PizzaPlex."
The PizzaPlex is (ironically) a huge circular building with thousands of rooms. It took a little over an hour for Freddy and Gregory to currently search the areas Chica could be in.
"Forget it, Freddy. I can't have you too far out. You and Gregory come back." She disconnects.
Monty lets out a scoff. "She gets time to diddle-daddle while mine was interrupted? I could have had more time at the golf course! 20th hole in one, Vanessa."
"You'll live, golf gills." Roxy retorts.
"Bite me, werewolf wannabe!"
"Enough!" Vanessa snaps. The red front doors open, revealing a discouraged Freddy and Gregory. She types in Chica's coordinates, the results yield that the animatronic is still in the building.
Where she could pose a different story. Even when they're in their charging stations, Vanessa can keep tabs on their whereabouts.
Where are you, Chica? She wonders, scourging the cameras of the pizzerias. Despite them being searched minutes prior, they remained empty.
"And this," The front door opens, revealing Gabe with Phillip and his twins. "This is where the preshow magic happens." Phillip's twins squeal with delight, running towards Freddy, Monty, and Roxy, ushering item after item for an autograph.
"Phillip, meet Fazbear Entertainment's talented security guards and technician, Vanessa." He introduces her to the prominent figure. He had an expression that read, 'Do not embarrass me or else I will make your life miserable.' Vanessa has six years of dealing with his buffoonery to know his quirks, both said and the unsaid. The CEO always made unnecessary checkups to ensure perfection and to take credit for the well run establishment, where the credit is due to the few human employees who work themselves to death.
"Daddy? Where's Chica? I wanted to show her this pizza doll I made."
Phillips looks at Gabe with curiosity, who then glares at Vanessa. She doesn't even know where Chica's at.
Might as well tell the truth, get reprimanded, and get it over with.
"She doesn't like to meet guests before the concert. It's one of her pre-show mojos that she's been working on. It keeps the magic intact." Gregory says slyly and gives the impression that he's revealed a company secret. Vanessa beams at him like a big sister would. Technically, Gregory's her foster child, but she finds that she's way too cool (and slightly traumatized) to be considered a parent.
The response works. The young girl revisits wearing a huge smile, stating how she couldn't wait to meet Chica off stage after the concert. Afterward, the Bowens and Gabe leave, leaving Vanessa to have a moment to herself. She's never been so close with a celebrity, her favorite celebrity at that. The words she wanted to say to Phillip passed like vapor from neuron to neuron. "Ugh! I feel like a teenager."
"At least you didn't start snorting like a donkey." Gregory teases. She charges at him and he yelps and runs to Freddy who is watching them with amusement.
20 minutes before showtime, Vanessa instructs, "Bring out Mr. Hippo and start downloading tonight's concert into his drive. We'll give her ten more minutes." She keeps herself busy by ensuring that the remaining three animatronics' systems are up to par, despite Monty and Roxy complaining.
With five minutes to go, she sends Freddy, Monty, and Roxy to the performance lift and scrapping Chica as a no-show. Then the doors burst open, Chica charging in frantically.
"Chica! Where have you been?"
"Sorry, so sorry! I took a quick charge, and it must have interfered with the communications." Chica explains.
Vanessa's nose scrunches at the familiar scent. "Chica, did you eat pizza? We don't have time to fix you when there's people waiting in the Atrium!"
"I didn't eat any, I swear! Just a sniff!" Chica exclaims, automatically opening her casing and revealing her endoskeleton midsection. "See? No cheesy messes, I'm good!"
"60 seconds!" Gregory warns. Vanessa rushes Chica towards the lift. "We will be talking about this later," Vanessa lightly scolded. Gregory hands Chica her guitar. "Just go out there and put on a good show."
"You know it!" Chica runs to the lift as a robot near the controls counts down. "Ten. Nine. Eight…"
"I'm here, I'm here!" Chica announces. Monty goes from focused to annoyed and back to refocus. Freddy's expression relaxes seeing his friend in one piece. Roxy's expression remains unchanged.
"Three. Two. One…"
"Showtime."
The lift elevates as the announcer rings out, "Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Fazbear Entertainment is pleased to host a special concert for Jackson and Jaylene's birthday. Put your hands together for the Glamrocks!" The announcement finishes just as they reach the top, standing before hundreds of cheering children and adults. A quick shout out to the birthday kids before launching into the opening song prompting several children into dancing.
Vanessa tidies up, bobbing her head to the music while listening to Sun repeating his magic act following intermission. She laughs at Gregory's genuine expression of horror and regret for agreeing to be Sun's assistant.
"Come on, Houdini," Vanessa hands Gregory a clearance badge and urges them out the door. She goes to turn off the lights when something prompts her attention. Next to the dingy and dated computer monitor lay a USB decked in the Fazbear Entertainment logo.
The small yet powerful device is designed to automatically restart any animatronics' system to the last restoration point. She hasn't had a reason to use it on any of the Glamrocks. They get checked every other hour, and she vigorously inspects them before they leave towards for the control lift.
A quick diagnostic showed results from the last time she had been checked. Chica has also received a lot of downtime to relieve herself from whatever mood she has been having the last few weeks. Whatever the reason that had Chica M.I.A. for hours, the animatronic did not get into anything worth damaging to her systems.
The urge held onto her until she stuck the device in her pocket with a sigh. Just another attempt at her mind messing with her to be overprepared.
It wouldn't hurt to keep this with me, just in case.