"You got the job? Just like that?! Way to go, buddy!"

Michael smiled at his friend's enthusiasm over the phone. After he got the nightclub position last night, he spent the remaining hours at his apartment celebrating via an oven dinner and a movie. Then since this morning, he spent the day preparing for his first night shift; strangely, it took longer than he had planned. Having never worked an overnight shift before, it was a massive change which forced him to alter his usual daily routine. Although time-consuming, he did spare a little time to inform his grandmother of his new employment, though he gave a vague description of being a 'security guard at a private building'. After a while of hearing her praises, Michael decided to let his friend Gregory know of the development.

"Don't congratulate me yet," Michael soothed. "I now need to be there long enough to start paying off my bills. One step at a time."

"Yeah, sure. But at least you're employed again, and at an easy job too," Greg said optimistically. "It'll be a cinch if it's just gonna be you there."

"Actually, no. You see…" Michael hesitated, remembering his encounter from last night, and his reaction therein. "The girls will be there too."

"Even better! You lucky son of a—" There was a sudden pause in Greg's excitement. "Wait, why would they be there overnight?"

"Would you believe they're… animatronic girls?" The response he got resulted in him jerking his ear away from the cellphone.

"No freakin' way, are you serious?! …Well, maybe I shouldn't be that surprised, since this city is a stewing pot of experimental technologies. Why not life-like sex androids?"

"Anyways, I wanted to give you the heads-up," Michael interrupted, not wanting the conversation to go down that rabbit hole. "My first shift starts at midnight tonight, so I'll have to get ready soon. Don't expect me to call again tomorrow—odds are, most of the day will be shot from working the night shift. So wish me luck, will you?"

"Sure thing. Break a leg, bud." Then his friend made an exclamation as if realizing something. "Or, on second thought—try not to." And he hung up before Michael could say any more.

Upon completing the hang-up on his end, a few thoughts dawned in the young man's mind. It's funny that he wasn't told about the club girls not being real people. But who am I to talk? —I had the same reaction when I found out. Maybe most of the club's visitors don't know either, or they do know and I'm the newbie that's unfamiliar with the area. …Still though, what did Greg mean by that last comment? 'Try not to… break a leg'? Does he know something I don't?

Looking over, his eyes rested on the full laundry hamper, of which the topmost clothing was his new purple uniform shirt. I guess I'll have to get familiar with the area as long as I'm working in it. Lifting the basket, he heads to his apartment building's laundry room.

It was nearly midnight by the time Michael arrived at the nightclub. Parking his truck in the club's northern lot, he observed the dimmed setting. Most of the surrounding buildings and shops had closed, so most of their neon signs were shut off; the only illumination at the hour was the overhead street and parking lights. There was not a single soul in sight, not that there was much to see anyway. Walking briskly to the staff entrance, he rolled his shoulders to rid more than an itch of unease. His new uniform shirt hadn't been worn in yet.

After punching the code into the keypad, the lock on the door clicked open. Once he entered the hallway, he heard the distinct sound of the doors closing and locking. Looking back, there was no keypad for inside. Odd. Michael made his way to the staff locker room. Strangely, as he set down his pack, he discovered that the locker room was empty, and many had not been used in a long while. Surely a place that was growing in popularity would have more staff to keep it running. As he was about to leave the room, he found a sticky note stuck on the door. The note read:

'Remember-no sex in the nightclub.'

Well, that's a given.

Pocketing the note, he moved to the security room. Along the way, he saw one of the hallway doors, marked as Animatronics, was slightly ajar. Peeking, he noticed four cylindrical recharge pods as well as adjacent dressing corners. Each pod was large enough to fit a single person, and a large clear visor revealed its occupant. For now, the three girls were present inside, appearing to be sleeping. Every now and then, a slight spot of fog appeared on the visors. This sight made the hair on the back of his neck stand; the sight of the girls imitating actual breathing was unnerving. Abandoning the doorway and continuing through the back hall, the previous feeling of being secretly watched returned to him.

At last, he made it to the security room. It was about as high tech as the animatronics were, surprisingly; the setup of monitors and cameras was better than the mess of cords and fuzzy screens Michael was expecting. There were eight flat screens, six occupying its own camera and two using four each, surrounding a main screen. A nice wood desk had a set of speakers, a fan, a phone and recorder, and a microphone. Two large buttons sat at the corners, each of their cords leading to their respective side's doorway. The armless chair in here wasn't as new, but it looked comfortable. Noticing there is a recorded message on the phone, he pressed it to play and set it on speaker.

"Hello? Hey there! Uh, if you're listening to this message, then welcome to Frenni Fazclaire's Nightclub! Whether this is your first night doing this, or if you have previous experience, I wanted to record this message for you so you can get settled in. I'm...finishing up my last week now as a matter of fact. I know it can be a little overwhelming since you're pretty much the only human here, but I'm here to tell you: there's nothing to worry about! So... let's just focus on getting you through your first week, okay? Uh... let's see… I'm sure you were introduced to the animatronic girls by now. They do get a bit quirky at night, and by quirky, I mean they tend to wander a bit in the nightclub due to some kind of 'free-roaming mode' during afterhours. Umm... something about residue energy from their recharge cycles? Anyway, it's likely they'll come across you during your shifts. Now you might think that's not so bad, as they're meant to recognize your uniform, but there's a risk they'll see you more as a VIP waiting for… um, special treatment. And if that happens, they will get rough… I mean, really rough. Like, break-your-bones rough. …Yeah, that happened with a previous sap of a guard who thought he could get lucky when a storm hit. So, you need to show them a little respect, okay? Oh right! The security room does have safety measures in case the girls get too close for comfort-the cameras will tell you where they are, and the doors will close if that fails. But only use them if absolutely necessary-gotta conserve power in this lightbug of a city. Alright, goodnight and good luck." With that, the recording ended.

Well, that was something.

Sitting and wheeling over to the desk, Michael inputted the username and password written in a sticky note slapped on the desk. Once logged in, a display of standard Internet access and camera feed control is shown. The two four-split screens were for the repair and second floor, while the rest monitored the rest of the building premises. So far, only the repair room feed was a little fuzzy, but it was unoccupied at the moment, so nothing to worry about in that area.

Sure wouldn't want to get roughed up in a room full of hard surfaces and sharp tools, he cringed. His mind drifted to what Gregory joked about before, and recognized the similarity to what the message said. Following intuition while taking glances at the screens, he searched his phone for incidents involving the nightclub. Soon enough, he found the article he was looking for… and its content was very disconcerting.

According to the news reports and ensuing investigation, such an employee was seriously injured at the nightclub. Because it happened in a blackout during a thunderstorm, there was no way to contact him; and since the building was designed to be on lockdown to reserve power, no one could get in to check on him. As a result, he wasn't found until the morning when he was already unconscious. It wasn't until after being taken to the hospital that he died from multiple broken bones and massive internal bleeding. Inquiries revealed that he was found in the repair room, laying on one of the repair counters, but having been dragged from the storage room first. The problem was, there was no one else in the establishment except the animatronics themselves. The press had a field day with it, going as far as blaming the animatronics for harming a human. Mr. Afton had countered that his property would never hurt someone, as it was against their programming, and the watchman more likely had an accident with some of the heavy equipment inside, and was found and taken to the repair room by the animatronics. He reasoned that they could have mistaken the repair room as a kind of hospital room, and had failed to find a way to help him. In the end, the courts ruled in favor of Afton's speculation, and he and his establishment were cleared of wrongdoing. But the memory of the incident remained in the city, being remembered as "the Break of 87th Street."

So that's what Greg meant before hanging up on me. Michael's revelation then turned to rumination. Afton sure got lucky: it would've ended badly for robotics companies everywhere if the ruling went against him. But I'm not that surprised the court ruled for him, I guess. Who says sex doesn't sell? Then, a thought flew into his mind. Wait… if I'm the only guy working night hours in a locked-down building full of frisky android girls, could the same thing happen to me?

Disturbed, Michael rid himself of that thought by browsing the security pad and monitoring the nightclub premises. After several hours, he scanned the camera overlooking the recharge room, but the view was different this time.

The pod that contained Frenni Fazclaire was open, and empty.

Although he couldn't see her anywhere, he could hear her humming. Using the microphone, he speaks while scanning the screens. "Um, hello? This is the new patrolman for the nightshift. Is someone out there?"

A gigglish "maybe" was the reply, but it was enough to recognize its owner. Not feeling like being caught by surprise, the youth asked, "Then could you come out, Frenni? I'm supposed to keep tabs on your whereabouts."

Soon an animatronic girl strutted out from the dark of the eastern hallway. Although he couldn't see them from the adjacent window, he heard her heels carrying her with each step of her mile-long legs. Her tuxedo-stylized top strained against her ample bosom as she waved her hand, smiling.

"Hello there, Mr. Patrolman," she said in a smooth voice. "Or do you have a proper name?"

Somewhat relieved to have her in his sights, he responded to her query. "Yes, it's Michael, though I'm often called Mikey instead." Through the window glass, her smile broadened.

"Mikey. I like it," she said with approval. "I was wondering if you were still awake behind those cameras at this hour to notice one of us the moment we were up and about. Not bad for your first night."

"Thanks," Michael replied. He then noticed her face turning sultry.

"You know," she commented with a deep voice, "since we've just met, why don't you come out to me so we can get to know each other better? Or maybe… I'll come to you?" Upon asking, she tilted her hips and beckoned with her finger.

Uneased by her hidden innuendo, Michael politely declined her offer. "I'd rather not break any rules on my first night." Through the glass, her face changed to an adorable pout.

"Aw, alright. I'll find you some other time. I would like to see the face that goes with the voice… and much more." With that, Frenni turned to walk towards the recharge room, swaying her rear as she stretched her arms above her head, making sure he had a good view. Once she disappeared around the corner, Michael found his legs crossed unconsciously as if to hide something.

Dammit. How can I be getting an erection like that from an animatronic? And it didn't help that I saw her chest curves from her back…

Shaking those thoughts, he got back to checking the screens. For a long while, nothing else comes up and he started to get a little drowsy. Luckily that disappeared when the phone rang. Checking the time, he notes that it was 3am on the dot. Realizing that it must be Afton, he quickly picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey kid. How're things so far? Animatronics behaving themselves?"

"Nothing major, Mr. Afton," Michael replied. "Just a brief chat with Frenni, but that's it."

"Good. So, no power issues?"

"All good."

"No disturbances outside?"

"Empty and clear."

"Bar is stocked, then?"

That question gave Michael pause. "Um, am I supposed to do that?"

A sigh is heard on the other end. "Ri-ight, I didn't mention that part, did I? …Sometimes when we close for the night, we haven't the time to replenish the bar or clean up messes. Since I'm kinda short-staffed and you're the only guy there, you'll have to do those things. Most other clubs are lucky as shit to not have that problem, but I'm lucky that you're a kid of many talents. This won't be a problem, right?"

"As long as the girls don't give me any problems," he answered honestly. That seemed to satisfy him.

"Great on ya. Good news for you is these are easy jobs, nothing you can't handle. You'll find extra beverages in the storage room behind the bar to restock if needs be, and cleaning supplies in the room adjacent to your post. Any questions?"

One thought crossed Michael's mind. "Should I worry about the girls wandering around freely? Or rather, what if I have no choice but to confront them directly? I've noticed how friendly they can be," he asked, emphasizing the last comment cautiously.

"They're supposed to be like that—it's what draws in the money. But don't take it as a full-on invitation—it's just part of their programming. If they get rough, just order them back to their pods and they'll listen. They're machines after all, nothing more."

Machines. That word didn't feel right for some reason, but Mr. Afton kept speaking.

"Anyway, got work on my end to do. I'll leave a list of things for you to do from now on, but for now just restock the bar. And make sure to close up when you leave at 6am, got it?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. Setting the phone down, Michael leaned back in the chair. Apparently, he'll have to maintain the club's hygiene on top of his original post and patrol duty. Even if his boss was short on employees, surely Afton would have a janitor still on his payroll, or a robot janitor at least. That thought made the young man recall what Afton said before. Machines… the word itself made him feel more uneasy than the girls themselves. Somehow it just didn't fit them at all. How could Afton design something that's so lifelike in every way, on the inside and out—even to give them sexual functions—and still refer to them as lifeless objects? Sighing, he turned to the screens and checked the three pods being occupied at the moment. Knowing the bar wouldn't restock itself, he headed out into the left west hallway.

It didn't take Michael long to fill the empty shelves at the bar. Most of the bottles were standard brands of wine and beer, but a few stood out as more exotic. Placing the now-empty crates back into the bar's storage where he found them, he made sure they weren't obstructing the walkway. Once that's done, he secured the storage door and bar cabinets, and walked back to the security room to finish his post.

Only to find the chair spinning to a stop.

Quickly checking the cameras viewing the recharge room, he found all three girls still there. Even rewinding the footage showed none of them had moved. There was no way they could have left and returned so quickly and without him noticing. Then he noticed the chair seat had an old scrap paper that wasn't there before. Picking it up, he read the simple line written haphazardly on it:

'We are watching you.'

It ended with an image of a skull and crossbones—a Jolly Roger. Realizing this, Michael darted his eyes immediately to the screen with the miniature stage by the bar. No movement could be seen. Slowly, his gaze lands back on the skull and crossbones.

Foxxy. Michael flicked his leg back to kick himself. He had been so focused on monitoring the other three girls, he had completely forgotten about the fourth, and thus overlooked her. If she was online this whole time, then…

She was right there when I was at the bar, he realized. She had the perfect chance. Why didn't she show herself? But how could she—didn't Afton say she was out of service and unable to move?

Fortunately, he didn't have to think about it long, as he saw that it was 5:30am. Not wasting a minute longer to linger, he logged out and headed for the staff locker room—but not without glancing between the mini stage and the back hallway along the way. Once he was in the clear within the staff locker room, he took his pack and promptly took leave. Even better was the backdoor unlocked itself by the time he got there. Only when he stepped out of the building did he calm down and wipe his pants of the sweat that accumulated on his hands.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Michael prayed that his future nights at the nightclub wouldn't be like this first one.