Sun was pleasantly surprised that Gregory was brought back to the daycare. And, judging by his little friend's reaction, he'd hazard a guess Gregory was just as happy to see him.
His friend's guardians leave (an itch, a voice, a whisper in his head, telling him that something is off about them, won't leave him alone until the heavy, wooden door slams shut). Gregory didn't seem to notice, clinging to his legs. But that was for the best, because dealing with separation anxiety had never been his strong suit.
A kid getting injured and needing a bandaid?
Sun had bandaids of all different colors, Fazbear characters, and sizes.
A kid was cranky or too overwhelmed?
Not really Sun's forte, but Moon had always had a talent for calming down the ones that couldn't be quelled with finger paint or funny voices.
But give them a kid with separation anxiety and they're lost. Not for lack of trying of course.
A couple of years ago, a two-year-old girl, named Erica, was placed in the daycare. All smiles and giggles up until the very moment mom and dad were no longer in view.
You would have thought the world was ending with the tantrum she threw.
That day had been particularly busy - thirty-seven children being placed in the daycare, even though he's legally not supposed to watch more than twenty at a time. But, despite that, he tried his best to calm her down. Singing, dancing, funny voices, and promises of stickers later on did nothing. It was…disheartening to say the least.
Erica continued her tantrum, albeit quieter (the little ones always run out of steam so quickly) up until her mom and dad popped into view a few hours later.
He thought of her every time a young child walks through the door, or slid down the tube into the ballpit. Most children go through a period of being upset - being separated from one's caregiver(s) could be a very scary thing to go through, especially if there was any history of abuse, neglect, or abandonment.
Still, all this to say, Sun was very happy that Gregory didn't seem to mind his parents' absence. He scooped him up, and brought him over to introduce Gregory to all his other friends. There weren't very many (usually only three or four during the week) until the afternoon.
All his friends had already found their place on the carpet. As he approached, they all looked up at him expectantly.
"Makayla," he said, pointing to a little girl, six-years-old, with thick, dark, curly hair.
"Xander." He pointed to a red haired little boy, four-years-old, with large, wired glasses.
"And Sarah." He motioned towards a small girl, three-years-old, with large blue eyes and a face full of freckles. She was also the reason Sun had to ban any products containing tree nuts.
Gregory clinged to him, refusing to look at the other kids. The kids stared up at him, confused and a little bewildered with the newest addition.
"Mister Sun, who's that?" Makayla asked, pointing at Gregory.
"His name is Gregory," Sundrop said, allowing the aforementioned child to bury his head in the ruffled lining of Sun's shirt.
"Why's he hiding?" Sarah leaned forward on her knees to get a better view of Gregory.
"He's a bit shy right now, but he'll talk when he's ready." Shifting Gregory to one arm, Sun snapped his fingers (usually he claps his hands to get the kids' attention, but that really isn't an option right now). "O-kay!" He shouted cheerfully. "Let's start with our morning song."
-x-x-x-
One thing about working at Fazbear's that they didn't tell you (among many) was the fact that no one was allowed to breathe a word of the restaurant's bloody history. Oh, they'll say it started in Hurricane (or some other, nearby smalltown). They threw names around when employees or curious customers asked. Upper management even had a whole backstory regarding the "supposed owners." Which was probably for the best because the real story was not for the faint of heart.
Anyone who had lived in Hurricane for more than a day knows why everyone avoided the pizzaplex like the plague. It was only the business from tourists that kept the lights on.
Vanessa wasn't alive when the original murders took place. Nor was she alive when the killer struck again (and then another time), but her parents had been. She grew up hearing their stories and warnings about a killer hiding behind a mask as trustworthy as Spring Bonnie.
She recalled their tales of two men who ran the original diner in the center of town, and then several more preceding that one. She remembered how distraught her mother would become at the memory of a blonde-haired little girl with the greenest eyes and most obnoxious accent.
"Elizabeth," her mother had once said during one of these recollections, rocking back-and-forth on their porch swing, "Her name was Elizabeth Afton. And she was my only friend."
She thought of her mother's tears whenever management gets a stick up their ass regarding the retelling of the who, why, where, and when of how Fazbear's came to be. Their retelling of events erased the Afton and Emily families. It erased all the pain that the residents of Hurricane went through.
Now Vanessa knew more than she ever wanted to about the murders, because sh-
"I'm sorry ma'am, Officer Vanessa must have been reading up on the conspiracy theories surrounding Fazbear's," her manager, John joked, bringing Vanessa out of her thoughts. He winked at the middle-aged woman, who giggled in response.
The moment the woman left, Vanessa knew she was in for it.
He turned to her, eyes cold. "What does policy say about telling customers what happened back in the eighties?"
She shifted. "Don't do it?"
"Right. But yet here you are trying to dredge up the past."
"Sorry," she muttered, eyeing the floor. Honestly, Vanessa was not. It was a stupid policy that had only made the residents of Hurricane angrier (it was quite frankly a miracle that the stupid mall hadn't been set ablaze).
"Manager John?" A deep, cartoonish sounding voice asked a little sheepishly.
Vanessa looked up, past John - who had gone noticeably tense.
She grinned. "Hey, Freddy."