"Officer Vanessa," Freddy said slowly, his eyes glancing between her and the first aid station. My stomach tightened listening to the small pause, waiting for Freddy to go on. He spoke slowly, as if he were trying to tame a wild animal. "I-I am afraid I do not know how I got here."

Vanessa harummped. "Well, you totally blew it tonight, you know. Your system crashed and you ruined the show. Now, Parts and Services have you on reduced power. They said it's a safety precaution." Vanessa sighed and looked down at the ground, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just one more thing I have to deal with.

Freddy looked at her with concern. "I apologize," he grumbled in his low voice. "Really, I am sorry. Is there anything I could do to assist you?"

Vanessa looked at the large animatronic, searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding nothing, she gave a long, tired sign, like a deflating balloon.

"Okay . . ." she fingered her flashlight in her hand and paused, looking around the room, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. I was surprised to hear the lack of sarcasm and anger in her voice. She seemed tired and worn out, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realized I caused a lot of this stress.

"Look," she said, rubbing the side of her head, "we're fifteen minutes from closing and some kid is sneaking around backstage. I don't know how this kid is, but he's been causing quite a bit of trouble. As long as he's roaming around, I can't do my job properly. If you see anything, notify me immediately. I've already alerted the others."

The room was silent and my stomach twisted in knots as I realized that Freddy could betray me and I would have nowhere to run. I gripped the edges of the curtains pulling it back just enough to widen the gap I'd been looking through, looking for any possible escape route, keeping Freddy at the edges of my vision.

However, Freddy merely nodded his head, bathing Vanessa in a glow of yellow light. "I will keep an eye out for him. Thank you, Vanessa."

Vanessa tossed her ponytail, her eyes going hard. Clearly she wanted a reason to chew Freddy out. "That's all I have to say," she said, in a tone that sounded like a mother scolding a child. Her shoulders tensed and she pointed at Freddy, almost as if she were accusing him of some crime. "Now, go back to your room."

She stared at him for another good couple of seconds, before turning on her heel and marching away. I waited for the sound of her footsteps to disappear into the whirring and clanking of the pipes above me before pulling open the curtain and jumping down from the platform, looking up to the large animatronic.

"I told you she was after me," I pointed out as I walked up to him.

Freddy furrowed his brow. "I said nothing, nor do I intend to," he grumbled in his low voice. "I will keep you safe."

I looked back and forth between both his glowing eyes, and lowered my head. "That's true," I said, quietly. "You didn't rat me out . . . Thank you."

Freddy smiled, though from the way his fingers tapped at his sides, I couldn't help but wonder if he felt guilty for lying to Vanessa. He looked around to make sure we were truly alone before he opened his chest cavity for me again. "Let us go."

I clambered inside of the animatronic and we took off again. Freddy seemed to be making an effort to create less noise, as he moved slower and smoother throughout the tunnels. Looking through the crack in Freddy's chest cavity, I noticed the walls splattered with grime and coated with a thick layer of dust. Crates and wood pallets were scattered around the floor, as if the employees didn't even bother to clean up around here. The light glinted off metal gratings and old looking chain gates, my only real indication that they even existed. Lightbulbs flickered overhead barely illuminating the wide cordor, most of them dead. The biggest source of illumination was coming from Freddy's eyes, and even then it was hard for me to see.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"We are now under the Pizzaplex," Freddy informed me, pushing one of the pallets out of his way "These utility tunnels connect to all the main attractions!"

"So, in other words, we could go anywhere in the building?"

"Correct! Fazer Blast, Monty Golf, Roxy Raceway . . . anywhere really. They are all accessible to S.T.A.F.F. —with high enough security clearance of course. Guests are never allowed down here, but yours is a-" he paused, as if searching for the right word, "-a special situation."

"Yeah," I muttered, awkwardly thumbing over the buttons that would let me out of Freddy.

We continued walking, Freddy's feet clanking around on the concrete reverberated in the silence. We moved slowly but quickened up as we passed a few S.T.A.F.F. bots looking down at their brutally disassembled brethren, its wires still sparking as if it were just pulled apart.

I shuddered, wondering what could be strong enough to do something like that. Looking away from the scene, I turned my attention down at my watch: eleven fifty, ten minutes to get me out of here.

"We are almost out of the tunnels, Gregory." I looked up at the sound of my name and smacked my head against Freddy's metal wiring.

"Ow!" I grabbed the back of my head, my fingers finding a goose egg forming. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you okay, Gregory? It sounded like you smacked something."

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," I assured him. "What were you saying about the tunnels?"

"I said we are almost out," He patiently told me again as he started to make his way up a few flights of stairs "We only have to go through a few more rooms before you'll be in the lobby."

"Okay!" I said, a tension I didn't notice until now loosening in my shoulders.

Freddy climbed up the last couple of steps and walked down a hallway, entering into a small room. He started heading for a door at the far end but his body lurched, sending me smacking into the chest cavity wall.

The chest cavity shuttered open and Freddy lurched again. I flew out, landing unsteadily on my feet, my arms pinwheeling to keep me balanced.

"What was that for?" I snapped reproachfully, dusting myself off as my voice echoed around the small room. I whirled around to glare at Freddy. "I would've landed on my butt if I didn't catch myself!"

Freddy looked up at me, his mouth opening as if he would say something but then his body lurched and trembled, the metal clattering around like a really bad tambourine. He stuck out his huge hand trying to stabilize himself against the wall, his eyes and neck twitching.

"Freddy? Are you okay?"

"I am terribly sorry," he said, his voice trembling. "The recharge cycle had not yet completed when I found you. I thought I had enough charge to get you to the main doors, but I was wrong. I am sorry."

"Freddy, why are you sorry?" I asked, placing a hand against the cold metal of his shoulder. "Can't you just recharge?"

"It will not be finished in time, Gregory." Freddy's body gave another heave and his face contorted in pain. "You must go on without me."

"What!?" I shrieked, my voice reverberating around the room. "But this place is so big!"

Freddy winced and closed his eyes, as if he had a terrible migraine, his head falling softly against the wall. "Please, do not shout."

"Sorry." I lowered my voice, apologizing quickly. "It's just . . . I'm afraid of getting lost."

"Do not worry, Gregory," Freddy said softly, trying his best to comfort me despite his own pain. "I will guide you on your Fazwatch in case you get into any trouble." He slowly made his way to a red, circular tube with a teal lightning bolt on it, similar to the one in his showroom. He stepped inside and let the tube close around him with a hiss, sealing him in.

"I don't know if I can do this alone," I said, picking at my fingers as I stared at him through the small window, picking at my fingers. "This is my first time coming to the Pizzaplex, I don't know my way through the underground, and-"

"It will be alright," Freddy said, putting his hands up to the glass. "If you ever feel scared, I will talk to you about whatever you want me to . . . through your Fazwatch, of course. But, I assure you, you will not be alone. I will be with you."

He grinned at me with his large teeth, and it looked so ridiculous that I couldn't help but smile back. But then, a tugging guilt danced on my heartstrings.

"Okay, um can I ask you one more thing?"

"Anything Superstar."

"When I get out, will you apologize to Vanessa for me? I know I bothered her by running away, but I just didn't know what else to do. I panicked-"

"I will," Freddy reassured me. "Let me know when you are outside using your Fazwatch, and then I will tell her your apology."

"Thanks."

Stepping back from the charging station, I crossed the room to the door. It opened with a creak, and I slipped through, pausing only to give Freddy a fleeting glance over my shoulder.

"You can do this Superstar," Freddy said from within the tube. "I know you can."

I smiled at him, hoping it looked confident, before turning to the door.

Taking a deep breath I stepped out into a long hallway. Without Freddy, the walls towered over me, like I was a mouse in an enclosed cage, and I shrunk against the grimy wall, feeling my way down the corridor, the dirt and dust gritting against my skin as I walked.

A series of melodic beeps broke the silence, echoing around the silent hall, making me scream. Quickly, I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran behind the nearest crate, my footsteps slapping against the concrete.

I waited for a few moments, holding my breath, my ears straining in the silence. Waiting for footsteps, for Vanessa to call out for me, or even for her to say she heard that and will find me to unleash her wrath and fury. But nothing came.

After a minute or two I let out a shaky breath and glared down at my Fazwatch, where a red notification marked an unread message.

"Couldn't you have been a bit quieter?" I hissed at it, as if it could feel guilty. I pressed the notification icon, silently wondering what was so important.

"Food Storage." I read the heading and signed. That's right, my watch is hooked up to the main servers, where everything is processed. I swear, if this happens one more time, I'll call up Freddy and ask him to mute this. I looked around, being extra sure to check the shadowy corners, before I stepped out from behind the wooden crate and walked on. My fingers glided along the metal walls picking up grim as I continued down the long hall. Looking down at my Fazwatch I couldn't help but wonder about the message, even though Freddy told me they didn't matter and that I should ignore them.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I stopped and opened the message.

ATTENTION KITCHEN STAFF — All food materials must be securely stored at closing. Chica has been caught eating from the kitchen garbage after hours. The maintenance repairs are costly and will come out of kitchen staff paychecks — MANAGEMENT

I gagged and stuck out my tongue, imagining the taste of rotting garbage from a kitchen trash can. Closing the tab I continued on trying my best to ignore the thoughts and taste of trash.

Instead, my thoughts wandered to my parents . . . if I even had any.

Do they look like me? I thought absentmindedly, barely feeling the metal turn to drywall beneath my fingertips. Do they even love me? Why would they leave me here? Did they even call the police, or at the very least, the neighbors asking for me, wanting to find me? Are they even worried in the slightest?

Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, a few making their way down my cheeks.

How would I even find them? I don't even know my real name! Do… My heart turned cold. Do they even want me to find them?

I shook my head, taking my hand from the wall and wiping the tears away, leaving the gritty grim streaked across my cheeks, barely noticing the subtle shift in color as the walls around me changed from a dusty yellow to a dull pink.

It wasn't until I nearly ran into it that I realized there was a blockage in the middle of the hallway. It consisted of a table with boxes and other miscellaneous objects stacked on and around it. A bunch of tin cans sat atop the mess in a tower, like a finished game of cup stacking.

Moving the cloth of an old, moldy-looking blanket, I looked under the table hoping I could just crawl under it and be on my merry way. Though those hopes were quickly squashed by all the boxes covered in black mold. The next idea was to move the cans and hop the table but that would probably take too long.

I looked around at the soft, dusty pink walls, trying to figure out where exactly I could go. I did a full turn before I noticed a door to my left, a putrid smell leaking from the cracks.

Scrunching my nose, I softly pulled it open and was hit by a stench so horrid I could have dropped dead. The rundown bathroom smelled feral, and I hated to think what was in those toilets. The sound that came from the room was just as bad: a squelching sound like dirty diapers being ripped apart and eaten by a dog.

Grabbing my nose tightly, I pushed the door in further looking to find what the noise was.

Standing at the far end of the bathroom was the animatronic chicken I saw earlier, Chica, hunched over, shoveling handful after handful of trash into her beak.

I quietly shut the door, carefully making sure the doorknob didn't snap shut, thanking the stars above that Chica had her back turned. I sighed as softly as I could now that the smell was locked behind the door again, though the faint taste of rot tingled against my tongue.

I looked around for any other escape route other than through the bathroom, but the table still blocked my way. I couldn't just walk past Chica . . . I mean she probably wouldn't hurt me, but if she brought me to Vanessa, then I'd be in a whole other world of trouble.

I stared at the table, the legs partly eaten through by termites. Silently, I glared at the jumbled mess, wondering how bad my luck had to be tonight, but then the idea struck. Glancing at my watch, I read the time: eleven fifty-five, too little time to think of anything else.

Tensing my arms and hands, I counted, as if that could make this idea any less crazy.

One.

Two.

Three!

I shoved the table knocking the cans over; they clattered against the ground, ringing like windchimes, only a lot less pretty.

Taking a few seconds to gather my next clean breath, I heard the door on the far side slam open. I rushed through the door on my left and watched one of Chica's feet disappear as the door shut with a soft click.

Once inside, I got a better look at the bathroom: the white tile walls were covered in mold, most of the gray stall doors hung from rusted hinges, and one of the toilets had burst and was shooting a stream of toilet water into the air.

I didn't notice how beat up my shoes were until the murky, toilet water flooded in, seeping into the fabric of my socks. I bit my tongue and silently gagged, making a mental note to grab a new pair of shoes as soon as I could. I squelched my way through the room as quietly as I possibly could, holding my breath until my lungs were burning.

Making my way to the end of the room, I crouched, silently opened the door and glanced out into the hallway.

Chica stood not even a few steps from me, examining the cans in confusion. Quickly, I shuffled out of the bathroom, closing the door softly, keeping myself facing toward the animatronic just in case.

As soon as I turned the corner, I started running down the hall, the sound of my wet shoes slapping and squelching under me. Weaving through the hallways, I found a door and opened it sucking in the clean air.

I slumped against the wall letting myself recover.

Looking around the small room, I noticed boxes that were stacked along metal shelves, perched dangerously. Spiders peared from corners eyeing me with their eight beady eyes, and a mouse skittered along the wall and disappeared under a pile of trash. One of the boxes were pulled open to reveal old, crayon-drawn pictures of the animatronics, each one with heads too big or hands too small.

Another one of the boxes had old-looking merchandise, hoodies and shirts with a dark purple rabbit print, old looking black bow ties with neon stars scattered all over them, and a few pairs of bowling shoes.

I reached out to grab a pair of shoes when a large thump came from outside the door, followed by another and another, sweet humming accompanying it.

I stumbled backward and kicked a piece of cardboard as I did, making a loud scraping-noise.

Chica stopped her humming. "What's this?" she said. "Lost boy? Is that you? Are you in here?" she asked in a sing-song voice. Before I could hide, she opened the door, her blue-purple eyes staring at me.

I yelled and jumped back, tripped over a box of some sort and fell hard on the cement floor.

Chica reached out and grabbed me, her cold, metal hands wrapping around my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Let me go," I yelled, struggling to pull away from her. "I don't wanna go to Vanessa, you can't make me!"

"I wasn't ordered to take you to Vanessa?" she said. Her tone made it seem more like a question, as if she were asking me where I got that idea. She gently pulled me to my feet and let me go.

Letting out a shaky breath, I took a few steps away, fidgeting. "You weren't?"

"Nope! I was told I needed to kick you out!" she said over enthusiastically and smiled, her eyes squinting as if she were being sincere.

"Well, that's comforting," I muttered, rubbing my wrist where she had held me.

"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Chica!" Her wide eyes focused intently on me. "It's nice to meet you."

I looked her up and down. Her body was smaller than Freddy but she was still super tall, her paint was chipped around her pink shoulder pads, knees, and feet like she's constantly scuffing them up. She stood tall but stooped down and extended her hand toward me.

"Chica?" I asked, glancing between her eyes and hand.

"You're a funny kid. My name is Chica, not yours!"

She waited patiently for me to tell her my name. "This is where you tell me your name," she said, tilting her head in confusion, her triangle earrings knocking against her head. Her face fell slightly when I didn't say anything, still mesmerized by her appearance.

"Sorry," I quickly said, snapping out of my trance. "My name is Gregory."

"You seem distracted . . . Oh! I know, I can give you a cupcake!"

Before I could protest, she opened up her own chest cavity, revealing a tray of – no surprise – pink frosted cupcakes. "Here, take one!"

"Thank you," I said, grabbing one and taking a small bite. The frosting was sweet and creamy, and I grinned. "Wow, these are really good!"

"I'm glad you like them!" She giggled, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapped like a child hyped up on sugar.

I smiled, watching her bounce softly. "So, about the whole kicking me out thing?"

"Oh, yeah," she said, her smile slowly disappearing. "I really don't wanna kick you out, we're friends now . . . don't make me kick you out . . ."

"You don't have to kick me out, but I really need to get to the front door before it closes. Freddy was supposed to take me there, but his battery died. So, would you help me get there?"

Her face lifted back into a smile, eyes glittering "Of course I can do that! Come with me!"

I took one step and winced as it squished, my shoes still covered in toilet water.

"Oh, your shoes are all wet," Chica said as a stream of water flowed out of them. "Here, give me one second."

She reached up and grabbed a box on the storage shelf and opened it, revealing pairs of red and white bowling shoes. "Here," she said, handing me a pair. "Try these on."

Carefully, I undid my soggy shoes. I took the pair from her gratefully and slipped my feet inside, laced them up and stood, tapping them against the floor.

"These fit great," I told her, who smiled at me and clapped.

"Yay," she cheered. "Now, let's get going."

I followed her out of the room and down a new hall. This hallway seemed more well kept then the others, the pink and green paint looking more vibrant the farther we followed it, though occasionally the light still flickered and went out.

A few more old-looking drawings were posted around here, as if they were meant to watch the employees and make sure they weren't slacking off. The pages were less yellow than the ones back in the storage room, but they were still torn and yellowing, as if they'd been hung up ages ago. Chica pointed a few out to me, telling me about the children that would give her the pictures.

Looking around, I noticed there weren't many of Chica. I couldn't help but wonder if she even noticed or if she was just hiding the fact that she knew she was less popular.

We moved quickly, Chica rambling on about stuff and occasionally humming bits and pieces of children's songs as we went along. She was in the middle of humming 'Mary Had A Little Lamb' when she stopped and looked down a hallway bathed in red light.

"This way," she said, walking into the hall.

Turning into a tunnel-like hall, a burst of steam assaulted my face, coming from behind a locked gate. I wiped my brow, the hot steam already making me sweat and probably started to steam the wrinkles out of my navy shirt. The light bathed the room in an eerie blood-red, trash bags were scattered around on the floor, and pipes hissed overhead, sending out another wave of steam, making the room into a sort of sauna.

As I munched on my cupcake, I lazily looked around the hallway. My eyes landed on a strange piece of paper hanging from an old, rusted nail. I took a few more cautious steps, trying to read the white letters at the bottom.

'Freddy's Family Dinner'

"Um, Chica?" I asked, pointing to the paper. "What's this?"

She looked at me and giggled. "That's a wall, silly," she said, before walking on, leaving me to stare at the paper in confusion.

I stared at the paper trying to figure out what exactly it was. A photo? A poster, maybe? The closer I got, the easier it was to make out what exactly it was: a drawing but not like the ones from the other hallways.

No, this drawing was highly detailed. The figure's yellow fur was very intricately drawn, each strand of hair easy to make out. Its body was oddly stained with dark, soy sauce looking splotches, and its smile widely distorting its face.

Squinting, I realized it was a rabbit; the rabbit stood finger pressed up to its molded smile as if it were shushing me, its other hand behind its back.

Icy fingers seemed to reach up my neck as I stared at the drawing, as if a ghost was trying to choke me. I stood still, mesmerized by the intricacy of the art, wondering if this was an animatronic that was somewhere in the Pizzaplex.

I touched the paper, smoothing out one of the corners, a small pain forming in my head as I stared at the rabbit. I stood still, trying to place that face. I'd seen it — I know I'd had — but I couldn't conjure up a memory to go with it.

Our eyes met and then it happened.

The rabbit moved.

The cupcake dropped from my hand as I backed away, my breath getting heavy in my chest.

The rabbit's hand slowly raised, waving at me with a crooked grin, before stepping aside to show me what he'd been hiding.

My cold, lifeless eyes were staring back at me.

The rabbit watched me, its smile getting impossibly wider as it stared at the horror that was surely on my face. My stomach lurched staring into my own lifeless eyes; blood splattered around my slumped body, and it made me double over, dry heaving.

The rabbit's shoulders shook, like it was laughing at my horror. Then, as if it wasn't enough to just show me my dead body, the rabbit took its knife, turned to the drawn version of myself, and plunged it deep into my abdomen, blood splattering across the rabbit's face.

Instantly I doubled over, a searing pain overtaking me as if the knife in the drawing had ripped into my flesh. Desperately sucking in a breath, I choked on a sticky substance that filled my throat. Hacking and coughing, I watched a dark liquid spill from my lips as my knees collided with the cold floor.

The rabbit had somehow stabbed me through the drawing.

Shaking violently I struggled to look back up at the picture. The rabbit had pressed itself against the paper, as if it were window glass and stared at me, its shoulders shaking with giggles, before it turned back to my lifeless body and stabbed me in both thighs before another stab to my chest.

Tears filled my eyes and I cried out in pain, only to choke on a mouthful of coppery blood. Blindly clutching at my throat as I attempted to expel the liquid, a new pain added to my agony. To my horror, when I reached down to find the source of the pain, I felt a long handle protruding from my side. Forcing myself to look down, I tried screaming but just coughed on the ever increasing wave of blood bubbling up in my throat.

The knife had somehow penetrated my side.

Reaching up further, I froze as I felt a warm hand grasping the handle.

Two blood stained feet appeared at the top of my vision, one of them tapping, as if impatient. Shaky raising my head so my eyes met the rabbits' we just stared at each other. I tried to understand how this was happening. After all, he was a drawing . . . right?

The rabbit leered at me as it withdrew the knife with a wet, sort of sucking sound.

"No," I shouted, trying to pull myself away from the creature, drenching my hands and knees in my own blood. "Leave me alone!"

The rabbit watched my effort with its arms crossed, silently laughing at me and shaking its head in amusement. Then, it bent down and grabbed me, its coarse, furry hands like sandpaper against my throat. It hoisted me into the air, my feet dangling uselessly above the floor.

Its molded, bucktoothed, smile grew wider as I struggled, trying to call for help. All I could make was weak squeaks as I stared into those pale-purple eyes.

I struggled some more, my hands trying to pull the hands from around my neck. Tears gathering, blurring my vision, sunspots dancing all around. I tried kicking at the rabbit, but in response he squeezed me tighter and I whimpered in pain.

Someone help me! I screamed inside my head. Freddy, Chica, someone help!

Nobody was around to save me. As my vision started tunneling, I stopped fighting, going limp in the rabbit's grip, silently promising myself that if I made it out of here, I would never let myself be this defenseless again.

"Gregory?"

I gave a heaving gasp of air, finding my cheek plastered to the concrete floor, my eyes snapping open at the sound of my name. I grabbed my throbbing head, a headache already starting to form.

"What?" I whispered to myself, trying to remember why I was laying on the floor. That's when I remembered the rabbit.

I sat up, frantically running my hands all over my body, feeling for blood or any sort of wound but I didn't find any. I glanced up to where the drawing was but was gone. Disappeared. As if there never was a drawing in the first place.

"Gregory?" Freddy frantically called again, his voice coming from my Fazwatch.

"I-I'm here," I told him, stuttering along my words. He sighed, making no sign that he even heard the shake in my voice.

"What happened?" he asked. "Your Fazwatch disconnected from me; I couldn't reach you. When it finally connected, you sounded like you were in distress. Are you alright, Gregory?"

"Yeah, I'm alright, Freddy." I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him about my weird vision dream thing but ultimately decided not to worry him more.

"Okay," Freddy said slowly as if he could tell I wasn't telling him everything. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in a red room. It's full of steam," I muttered looking back to where the drawing should've been.

"Alright, you should head down this tunnel and then you'll find a set of stairs. You should get to the exit in time but you better hurry."

"Right," I said, carefully standing up. "That reminds me, I ran into Chica."

"Did you now?" he asked, sounding anxious.

"Yes," I replied. "But it's okay. She's taking me to the main entrance." I didn't mention the fact that I totally lost her.

"Oh, okay," Freddy. "Good luck, Superstar," Freddy muttered before my watch went silent.

"There you are!"

I looked up to see Chica hurrying down the hall.

"I was walking upstairs when I realized you weren't behind me." She knotted her knuckles together and frowned. "I was so worried, please don't go wandering off again."

I carefully examined the wall where the drawing had been even running a hand over the smooth paint. There was no hint of anything ever being there.

"Just my imagination," I muttered, taking a step down the hall.

Pain blinded me like a nuclear bomb went off in my brain. I gasped, leaning against the wall for support.

Chica grabbed my wrist to help support me. "Gregory?" she asked, but slowly her voice was drowned out by a ringing in my ears, loud enough to feel like it was vibrating through my entire body.

My eyes squeezed shut, and the ringing slowly changed into a gravelly voice that screamed through my head.

"GEt hIm!"

The pain faded into a faint pulse, just annoying enough to not ignore. Taking a couple shaky steps forward, I placed one hand on Chica's arm, thankful for the extra stabilizer, and placed my other palm on my forehead. I wondered if that voice was real or if like the drawing it was just some sort of stress thing.

"There you are!"

This voice was definitely real, low and rough like rocks crumbling down in an avalanche. White noise fizzled behind it, like it was a really cheap recording.

I spun around, coming face to face with Monty still leaning into Chica. His hulking form, illuminated by the red light, cast a large shadow over me, and I took a few steps back.

"O-oh, you're M-monty, right?" I stuttered, staring up at the gator, "I didn't mean any harm, i-in fact, I was just leaving. C-chica was taking me to the front door. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble-"

His claws grabbed the chain-link fence and ripped it from its hinges like it was paper. His roar almost defended me, echoing around the room, and he bore down on me, growling at me with razor-sharp teeth.

Turning, I looked up at Chica hoping she would reason with him but she slumped over, her eyes rolling back into her head. She twitched for a moment before her eyes trained on me, glowing purple and expressionless.

"Chica?" I asked, but as soon as I stared into her glowing eyes, I realized something was terribly wrong.

With a squelching sound, Chica squashed my half-eaten cupcake under her large talon-like foot. Then, she took hold of my arms and squeezed so tightly that they tingled from the lack of blood flow, the metal biting into my tender skin.

"Chica, stop!" I screamed, panting as pain shot up my arms. "You're hurting me!"

I attempted to wrench my arms free, struggling around as best I could, but her grip was literally steel. She started dragging me backwards towards Monty, who's claws reached out and clenched my shoulders, digging into me.

"Chica? What's wrong? What did I do?" I cried, tears gathering at the edges of my vision.

She stopped, looking down at me, the glow in her eyes fading slightly. Her eyes widened in fear.

"Run!" she shrieked, yanking me out of Monty's grip and momentarily releasing me. She suddenly doubled over and grabbed her head, before straightening up, the purple glow back in her eyes. Both she and Monty turned to look at me, glaring at me menacingly.

My heart breaking, I dashed away, hearing their heavy footfalls as they gave chase.

Chica, Monty, what's going on?

Thank you to my editor: Kieran Elliott