[A/N] I want to apologize to my Glitched readers. I had been posting this story on other platforms but this one (⊙ˍ⊙)...
Vanessa mindlessly rubs her shoulder – the nerves in that area burned after she aggressively popped her limb back into its socket. She plays every video, replaying the disastrous moments that took place just minutes ago.
#murderchicken has gone viral. Videos flooded all over the media channels platforms, drawing seekers to the PizzaPlex: News outlets, paparazzi's, the general public stood outside, all wanting – demanding – answers. The only response they got were the sounds of metal barricades toppling the glass doors to shield them from the inside.
She glances at the auto assist handle whirling behind the protective cylinder, individually picking apart and then scanning each of Chica's compartments to analyze. It had just been a few minutes before they had just finished reviewing the results on the computer regarding the chicken's 4th diagnostic – no errors found.
"Don't," Gregory mumbled beside her, holding an icepack on his head.
"Hmm?"
"Don't beat yourself up. It isn't your fault." He answers, looking at his shoes. He doesn't see the scowl replacing her anxious expression. She appreciates him trying to cheer her up, but it will all be in vain. As she listened to the doors slamming in the distance, she knew that being a part of Fazbear Entertainment, every employee will take the fall, whether it was their fault or not.
Gabe stands outside the room fuming. She did not want Gregory nor Freddy to hear Gabe screaming, especially Freddy. The bear animatronic kneeled in front of the cylinder, distressed at his friend's current state behind the cylinder, hooked up to several wires. Vanessa ruffles Gregory's hair, and gives Freddy a firm reassuring grip on the shoulder on her way out.
She meets her boss face to face. "Not one word out of you." He's quick to interrupt her in an unusual tense tone. "Come!" He orders. She follows him to the lobby in which he then flings open the door and ushers her outside in front of dozens of cameras and voices:
"Miss! Do you care to comment on the incident?"
"Are you creating killer robots?"
"This is outrageous! My family and I pay money here to have fun, not to fear for our lives!"
"Will Chica be decommissioned?"
"I'm never coming back here, even if you got rid of that chicken! What kind of company are you running?"
Everyone's coming at her. She didn't know where to start or how to answer the overlapping questions and accusations before she was pulled back into the building.
"Now do you see what you've done? NOW DO YOU SEE IT?! The phone has been ringing for hours! Phil is threatening to sue! I have the shareholders demanding an explanation. The media is having a field day mocking us, the BBB threatens to shut us down, and our stock shares are already pummeling because of that stupid chicken!"
Despite the "All of her diagnosis reports are coming back clean, and she was functioning well before the show –"
"I don't want to hear excuses! I want that thing reduced to scraps and bolts and you can explain to the world why your stupidity almost cost a child's life!" He finishes, storming out of the area with obscenities echoing in the distance.
Returning to Parts and Services, she sees Freddy standing over Gregory and rushes over. She hadn't been gone for more than a few minutes; how did he fall asleep so fast? Freddy's eyes emit translucent lights, indicating how he usually scans guests for any medical emergencies.
"He is fine," Freddy said, his eyes shifting back to his usual blue color. "No signs of a concussion." She sighs a sigh of relief.
She rubs her temples, closing her eyes for a moment of peace. She doesn't open them to feel that Freddy is eyeing her. "What do you want to know?"
"Enough to understand the severity of this situation. Is there anything we can do besides decommissioning her?" Freddy urges. He knew that Chica had not been herself for some time. He thought it had been a burnout. They all thought it was something the opposite of what had happened tonight. The worst part is that it could have been preventable. All those subtle moments that lead up to tonight were ignored warnings.
Vanessa opened her eyes to stare back at him with a mix of uncertainty. "Please, Vanessa. Please tell me that there is something that can be done?"
She bites her lip. She understands his distress. Freddy cared for all of them, but she notes how he would care for Chica differently. Their relationship seemed different than what it would be with Roxy or with Monty. Genuine and long-going, like they'd been friends for centuries. She often jokes that their relationship stemmed from different reincarnations.
Tonight had not been a laughing matter. She was not the Chica they had known for years. But it is over and done with, now there's a price to be paid.
"I'm sorry, Freddy, there isn't any other option."
It's Freddy's turn to be silent, glancing at Chica in the cylinder.
After what seems to be forever, he responds with his eyes downcast. "I, I understand." He turned his back to her and exited through the service elevators.
"It's getting late," She wipes off her tired tears with the back of her hand and lets out a weary sigh, programming the repair bots to put Chica in the charging station behind her green room. She'll deal with the animatronic chicken on her next shift. She takes Gregory and leaves the building, ensuring that all lockdown protocols are in place for the night.
She felt like she hadn't slept for long. When she returned home, she had put Gregory to sleep in his own room. Then she struggled to go about the minimum yet necessary nighttime routine. It was nearing one in the morning when she had been under her own covers. Then there was the fact that her anxiety kept her up for what seemed like hours, recalling that nightmare of the event with intensity. She knew that the birds were chirping when she'd finally drifted to sleep. And just as she's ready to hit that right phase in the REM cycle, someone has to be pounding at the door.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" She mumbled as she made her way out of her room, turning on whatever light switch she had the energy for.
Gregory stands within his bedroom door frame. "Who is that?"
"Go back to bed." She commands, a quick glance at the clock on the wall showed it to be 7:34. Whoever decides to visit this early on a weekend, may it be a serial killer or a zombie, it'll be the highlight of her day. Or maybe a sign to stop listening to True Crime podcasts. She opened the door. "Hello?"
"Are you out of your mind?!" An elderly woman shouts at her. A couple of blinks before a fake smile plastered onto her face.
"Good morning, Eileen."
"How could you be so irresponsible and let a robot put Gregory in danger!"
Oh great, she saw the videos. I didn't think Eileen could comprehend the internet…
"And what was that child doing up that late?"
"Come on Eileen, it was a kid's birthday party! Have you not been at the PizzaPlex with your own grandson? And how would I know that it would go haywire?"
"Ms. Allen, you are ranking up some serious deductions on your file, this being the top pick. We do not tolerate child endangerment! Where is Gregory?"
"Please Eileen, I did my best with what I have been given. Gregory's fine, he's not in the hospital."
"I would like to see that for myself." The social worker lets herself into the house where Gregory peeked from behind the half-way separating the dining and kitchen. "Come dear, let me have a look at you."
"I'm okay." Gregory sighs in annoyance as she'd checked him over. He throws Vanessa a worried glance and she shakes her head.
"This won't take away the evidence that we have. If I get one more call –"
"We know, can you please leave?!" Gregory snapped. The social worker glared at him and made her way out.
"Gregory, you can't be snippy with adults, no matter how annoying they are."
"She's wrong, they're all wrong for that. You were doing your job –"
"I'm going back to bed." She interrupts, retreating underneath her covers. It takes another few moments to battle her anxiety, before she starts drifting back to sleep.
Until, that is, someone has to be poking her forehead. "Vanessa? Vanessa, wake up!"
"Gregory, you have five seconds to get out of my room, or I will twist you into a meat pretzel." She snaps, lifting the covers over her head. She heard him sigh before seemingly leaving the room, only to feel herself levitating up and down as he'd jumped onto her bed and ripped the covers off. "Are you kidding me?"
"Look," He shoves her phone in her face, the screen omitting enough brightness to alert her already tired brain. Readjusting her eyes, she sees a picture of many serial codes. "I forgot about this picture. I took this last night before I fell asleep; these serial numbers don't match up with the current flow of coordinates and –"
"Whoa, whoa! Say that in English, Einstein."
"This monitor and programming are from the dinosaur age." He continues. "It's possible that whatever has been happening with Chica before yesterday, we couldn't detect any errors because the current system isn't compatible anymore to provide a full diagnosis, only enough to detect any issues with her performance."
Vanessa's wide awake now. "How incompatible are we talking?"
"That model isn't even being serviced anymore. You remembered the several months it took to get a technician here to fix the current?" He shows Vanessa a website at a demonstration of software and equipment. "We need to get a hold of this. We can review her diagnosis from a different angle. It'll be enough to pinpoint the malfunction code and remove it from her system."
"Gregory," Her hopefulness died as she glanced at the price. "I doubt Gabe is going to support this. This is a business, and he's going to do what he needs to do."
"We have to try!"
"Even if we did, what would be the point? People are scared of her."
"We don't know that for sure. If she can project a positive image to the public, maybe they'll change their minds. They may protest for her not to be destroyed." Vanessa sighed and laid down. He shakes her arm. "Come on Vanessa, please!"
"Alright, alright! Hand me my phone." She dials Gabe's number.
"You better have a good reason for calling this early!" He yells.
"How soon could you and the shareholders get to the PizzaPlex?"
Grumbling is heard in the background. "Within a couple of hours."
"Have everyone there as soon as possible. I will explain everything." She hangs up the phone, rising from the bed to search for a presentable outfit in her closet. "You may be onto something Gregory, but the next time you interrupt my sleep –"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're going to twist me into a meat pretzel. Don't see how you can do that when you have scrawny muscles."
She grabs the nearest pillow to throw at him, it hits the door frame as he dashes out the room. "Ha!" His voice muffled from elsewhere in the house.
I swear, this kid will give me a head of gray hairs before I'm 25.