Alright, so this is the third night at the nightclub, and our night guard is feeling the pressure. How he'll deal with his predicament, you'll have to read and see!

So, I want to clarify something someone noted at this point, concerning the main rule in this club. The 'no sex in the nightclub' policy isn't really for the animatronics, but for the night guards and/or other employees working in the nightclub, as a warning to not use their position as a shortcut for some intimacy with the hostesses. Sadly, one such employee didn't heed the warning, and the result cost his life; and this became the 'Break of 87th Street'. The reason (and the details) for this is not what you might think, but will be explored in future chapters, so be patient, please. Also, the true intentions of the hostesses toward our night guard will be explained (by the girls themselves) later, among other issues, and they may surprise (or sadden) you.

Until then, enjoy night three!

Michael found himself lost in his thoughts once again.

As he showered himself for the evening, his mind contemplated his situation at the nightclub. Even with only two nights having passed, it seemed the girls were becoming more daring and frequent in their approaches. This went without saying that he was unnerved by this, but it didn't mean he was afraid, or even put off. As a young man in his prime, he had a few fancies in the past, even if nothing serious came from them. But the reactions he held back then were not like the ones he felt now. The girls he was facing now were different; they wanted to get to him. Even if their behaviors were playful at the moment, who knew how long it would last before they dropped the act?

Stepping out of the shower, he began to dry and spruce himself for the shift to come, despite his increasing desire not to. Like an alarm clock, his cell phone rang to wake him back to reality. Seeing the ID being his friend Gregory, Michael decided to cancel his current reminiscence for more lively conversation.

For the next half-hour, he and his friend exchanged topics and moments until Michael brought up Greg's new place of occupation. This eventually led to a story about one of Greg's new coworkers being caught doing a secret chicken dance—with a mask over his head—until he fell back on his derriere. That made Michael laugh, especially the detail where the moment got recorded and passed along to several other coworkers. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep his mirth after Greg asked him about his occupational place.

"So, how's your new job working for you?"

Michael tried his best to summarize his complicated feelings. "It's… something."

Greg's voice turned incredulous. "Just 'something'? Come on! From what some of my buddies who went there say it's the best place on the block—the ultimate man-cave of state-of-the-art luxury and pleasure! Are you really not interested in being there?"

Michael looked at his phone suspiciously, remembering their conversation when he was shown the ad a few days ago. "Are you?"

There was a pause before amused chuckling emitted from the receiver. "Touché. But seriously, I'm surprised you're not enthusiastic about it; I mean, you got hired for a job that has everything you need—benefits and all—and on the same day, no less! Your biggest issue was solved just like that! Why so glum?"

"First of all, it's the pay I really need to sustain myself—there's not much of a benefit plan anyway," Michael corrected. "Secondly, as for being glum… I'm feeling a bit unsafe as long as I'm inside that building by myself." And he explained his experiences with the animatronic girls from the past two days, including how increasingly forceful they were being in their advances. Once he finished, he heard a short humph of surprise.

"Wow," Greg said. "For robots that can put on the moves, they don't hold back, do they? I kinda figured they'd act more playful around you, but the way you're describing it makes it sound like they'll turn violent at any moment."

"I agree, it's getting creepy." Then his friend's comment struck an egging thought in Michael's mind. "Speaking of violent, I've been meaning to ask you: back when you showed me the ad of the place—why didn't you mention the fact that someone died in there?"

"'The Break of 87th Street'? I thought you already knew about it," Greg replied innocently. "It was all over the news when it happened, and I figured your new boss would've mentioned it."

"You know me—I don't exactly pay attention to news or updates concerning adult entertainment, let alone strip clubs. And I doubt someone in Mr. Afton's position would want to talk about blood on his rug, so to speak."

"Gentlemen's club, Mikey, but fair enough. Still, that happened once—a random incident. Could've happened to any poor sap who'd been there instead. Just because it happened once doesn't mean you'll be as unlucky."

"I'll believe that if I survive the first five weeks," Michael affirmed. Or the fifth night.

Arriving at the nightclub early, he decided to enter via the reception room instead. Upon passing through the entrance curtains, his ears were once again greeted with the sound of singing. On stage was Frenni Fazclaire, with a wireless microphone in her hand. Instead of her usual tuxedo top, she's wearing a stylized white top with puffed-up sleeves. Her usual neck-bowtie and top hat were still present. She was also dancing to the upbeat tune of the song playing, which sounded foreign. With her current appearance, she looked for all the world like a famous teen cosplay idol before an enthusiastic concert.

Tempted to watch, Michael checked his phone. His shift hadn't started yet, and it seemed there's enough time for her to do one more song. How could it hurt? Seeing an empty table, he took a seat and watched her perform.

After a few minutes, it appeared Frenni was about to make one more show, but then her eyes drifted toward Michael. For a split second, her eyes shift from her normal blue to red and then blue again, likely noticing his uniform and realizing who he was. She remained fixed on him for a full minute before going back to her routine. Setting the microphone back on its stand, she called to everyone.

"This last one for the night is for a special someone—and he's here now!"

The response was immediate as every man in the club yelled out in excitement. A soft beat began to play as the stage lights focused entirely on her. After a rhythmic setup, she began her song—but then the atmosphere seemingly changed. The song now felt different compared to the others he heard before; unlike before, which they comprised of a sick arousing beat, this tune had more of a soft yet sensuous tone. On top of that, her voice became sweet and angelic, her tone equally as emotional as the music, akin to a quiet plea for help. It gave the impression that she wasn't just acting, but possessing such emotions herself. All the while, she turned like a ballerina, perfectly balancing herself in poses that accentuate her toned body.

Michael couldn't help being completely enthralled, like the rest of her audience.

Halfway through, Frenni curved her back and looked to her audience. Once she fixed her gaze on him, she blinked, and slowly began an intricate dance that totally displayed her perfect curves. At this point, the guys hollered in joy, but Michael didn't hear any of them. His ears savored every word of her sad voice, and his eyes were glued to every leg-raise, back-curve, and body-twist she made. She continued her doleful melody as she held the microphone stand with both hands, her arms pressed against her breasts.

As the song culminated, he swore he saw a hint of welling tears in her eyes.

The song ended, and all the lights dim to darkness. The crowd erupted into cheers and catcalls; and frankly, Michael couldn't help but silently agree. Then the lights come up again, and he almost jumped upon seeing Frenni seated right beside him at his table.

"Hey there, so what'd you think?" she asked.

"That was beautiful," Michael told her, after getting used to her sudden presence.

She laughed as she playfully wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "You are sweet. But tell me, what did you like?"

As she looked at him, Michael couldn't help but gaze back at her lidded eyes. They were electrifyingly blue and full of energy, like her dance, and just waiting to release more. Their proximity made him notice an alluring perfume she was wearing, like the one Chica wore; the aroma somehow struck a chord in his head to want more of her. He couldn't help but answer honestly.

"I like that you keep surprising me, and that makes me look forward to seeing you perform more," he smiled at her.

She hummed and slid closer, their noses almost touching. "I'm glad to hear that, Mikey. I'd love to hear more too… but your shift is about to start."

Blinking out of the trance, he checked his phone and confirmed that it is indeed almost midnight. How did she know? But when he looked back up, she's already headed in the back to the recharge room. The guys surrounding him stayed until they couldn't see her anymore, and then proceeded to the exit. Those that were unable to due to intoxication, Michael helped their buddies to get them outside and hail cabs for them.

Once that was done, he made sure there was no one else in the club and headed into the security room. This time, there was a short note:

1. Replace the camera in the repair room (spares are in repair cupboard)

2. No sex in the nightclub

Like that's going to be easy, he thought sarcastically, remembering what happened the past night.

"Um, hi there! You're doing great now! Uh, because—you know—most people don't last this long! I mean, th-they usually move on to other things at this point... uhh, I'm not implying that they died. Tha-that-that's not what I meant... Uhh, anyway, things will start getting real tonight. So, I better not take up too much of your time. Uh, there is a trick that might work in case you get cornered. If you happen to run out of power and want to avoid their 'rough play', uhh, try hiding under the desk. Uhm, there's a chance that... maybe they'll think you're elsewhere instead. Then again, they could still see you with their fancy eyes... I never figured out how they worked, let alone if they have UV abilities... ...Y-You know what? Never mind, scratch that. I-It's best just not to get caught. Um, well, okay. I-I'll leave you to it, then. See you on the flip side."

That was the third message Michael found on the recorder a few hours ago, and it made him realize a pattern in them. He noticed the messages became shiftier and more frantic with each progressing night, and despite their assurance to not worry, Michael couldn't help but feel its creeping touch. Not to mention, they were getting shorter—whether to not take too much time, or there was something more sinister. And the increasing number of listed ways to avoid the girls didn't help; what was the point if there was nothing to worry about?

Speaking of, his eyes were trained on one of the camera screens picturing three such worries. This time, Frenni, Bonni, and Chica were out and milling around, mostly keeping close to each other. They did spend time recharging in their pods, but for a shorter time than before. Michael had thought of going to the repair room at the time, but thought against it; if the latest recording was anything to judge by, those three would be more eager to reach him, and he had no idea how long it would take to replace the room's camera. And I have no intention of ending up like the last guy. So, he stayed right where he was, not letting up his attention for a second.

The only reprieve he got was when Mr. Afton called at 3am to check on him, but even that was short-lived. Michael voiced his concern for the animatronics' behavior while he still had the listed chore to do; however, his reply was to remember that "they're machines: just give them orders, and they'll listen—simple as that."

Easy for him to say, he thought when Mr. Afton hung up. He's not in here dealing with this.

Now, it was 4:04am and the girls continued to hang around together. Sometimes one of them made a move toward the hallways, which prompted Michael to use the doors; as a result, the energy gauge for the appliances was down to 59%. As he mulled over the likelihood of their deliberately running down the charge, there was a change in the women's behavior. His attention veered to the camera feed overlooking the clubroom, and the main stage therein, and saw Bonni and Chica leaving Frenni on the stage for the back hallway.

At that moment, the brown fem-bear started a strange dance, and a lively tempo rhythm began playing out of nowhere. Suspicious of this unexpected performance, Michael found himself observing her movements. Several of her poses reflected from her earlier show, and his mind drifted to the moment. He remembered how enthralled he felt on seeing her move and hearing her voice, and their close proximity afterward made him want to see and hear more. Now it felt like she was obliging his request with a repeat performance. As if sensing his rising desire, he witnessed Frenni turn up to the camera while in a very sultry posture.

"That song was a warm-up, but it is best done in a duet," she said, her open hand caressing her mouth tantalizingly. "Care to help me wet my lips?"

He then heard her start humming, which soon synchronized with her dancing. Now her act had turned into a private show, with her practically beckoning him to come out. Michael noted this, as well as the fact that her luminescent eyes were not entirely focused on the camera he was viewing her from. His earlier suspicion returned, and he wondered her reason for her actions. She already knew how he felt about her past recital, so did she think he'd answer differently with an encore?

She did say she wanted to hear more of my compliments, he thought. But she's not showing any sign of stopping and asking. So why is she still doing that dance? Maybe to impress me, or show off? His eyes loomed over the empty seats and tables around the main stage. It's not like there's anyone else to see—

His form jolted out of his chair in alarm. Frenni was alone; Bonni and Chica remained missing.

He had been so focused on Frenni's suspicious solo-ballet that he lost track of time and her compatriots. Whipping his head between doorways, he began to panic in deciding which side the animatronics would come from. What made it worse, the hallway lights were off so he had no visibility warning. In one swift move that stretched his arms to aching point, Michael pressed both switches for the lights at the same time. The moment they came on, he spun to the first sign of movement.

Chica was looking around the eastern door frame with both hands, biting her lower lip eagerly.

Letting out a shout of surprise, he grabbed the button on his right, which shut the door at once.

A snicker suddenly came from behind him. Swiveling in his chair, he saw Bonni at the other window, grasping its upper frame with both hands like before, displaying her clothed bosom.

Shouting again, he grabbed the left button, thereby locking himself inside completely.

His nerves getting the better of him after a second, he jumped out of his chair and briefly swung his fists and kicked his feet in the air, as if trying to beat the adrenaline out of his body. Once he felt it leave him, he let out a growl of exasperation and turned to the hallway windows.

"Gah! You people! —What is wrong with y—?"

He left his question unfinished because the hallways were empty again, just like that.

He stood there, unmoving and alone, as both hallway lights flickered until they went off, as did the music. Even as he just recovered from two simultaneous jumpscares, he felt equally unnerved by the girls' vanishing act. It was like they were taunting and teasing him at the same time. Right on cue, he heard ominous giggling from at least one of the females, echoing through the building. That was the last straw for him. Snatching the microphone on the desk, he made sure all the animatronics could hear him.

"Alright, you all had your fun!" he declared waveringly. "But funtime's over now—will all of you just go in your pods and not come back out?"

For a moment, the voices ceased, and the entire building was plunged into silence. Michael was sure the command got through to them, but he also knew his voice didn't sound convincing. Worse still, he couldn't see any of them on the screens… until he heard them.

"Very nice—you're keeping your guard up," he heard Frenni's voice.

"It won't be long before your other 'little guard' is also 'kept up'," Bonni's voice said. "And when that happens—" A low, breathy chuckle echoed in the empty air. "—you won't be able to resist."

With that, another moment of silence invaded the club, albeit the clatter of ever-distancing heels.

After several minutes of inactivity, Michael was forced to rely on the camera feeds to find their whereabouts. To great relief, he found them—their recharge pods having just closed with all their occupants accounted for. Leaning on his desk with both hands, he contemplated his luck just now. He just evaded a team effort to ambush him via a distraction and two-way approach. Even better was the fact that they gave up on his orders. Sure, he experienced two jumpscares at once, but the victorious satisfaction of escaping that situation overrode his already-frazzled nerves. On the other hand, the experience revealed another, more daunting prospect.

They set a trap, he realized. They can work together. Before, it was about single-bodied encounters; but this time was different. The girls proved they could not only communicate with each other, but also formulate plans. The fact that Frenni used herself as a distraction for the other two was evidence of this. Clearly, they were more than just pretty faces; they were smarter than that.

Warily, the nightguard double-checked the meter for the doors and lights. He groaned when he read the 24% capacity; the extended use of the doors and the lights in tandem had really drained the energy for the night. Staring at the still-closed doors, he deactivated them and the lights to save what power was left.

I can't let my guard down like that again… But at least I now have a chance to replace the camera without hindrance.

After one last check on the monitors, Michael grabbed the flashlight by the desk. Fighting the urge in his legs to stay, he slowly made his way down the east hallway and into the clubroom. Even though the other occupants were sealed away, he took no chances; he also kept a careful eye in the mini-stage for any sign of movement.

At last, he reached the repair room, and made sure to lock the doors behind him after using the ceiling lights to ensure he was alone. Once secured, Michael observed the layout. The repair room, as its name implied, was full of materials meant for fixing machinery, animatronic or otherwise. And everything he saw showed that; there were several operating tables, each surrounded by empty workbenches and standing monitors. In one corner was a wheeled, rectangular enclosure lined with transparent plastic sheeting; judging from the intricate arms and various labels, it was meant for cosmetic repairs. The walls were lined with numerous tools and devices that resembled surgery utensils; and some of them were hooked to cords which looped on the ceiling.

Michael shivered. Even bathed in light, the room still held a foreboding look. It reminded him of a mix between an operating room and a salon; but unlike a salon, there was no sign of human comfort in here—every surface was bare metal. While gazing suspiciously at the hanging cords above him, he noticed a sizeable vent in one of the walls. It was just large enough for a person to slip in.

A pity the guy that died in here never got the chance to escape through there, he reflected, remembering the famous incident. Shaking his head of such thoughts, he turned his attention to a certain direction: a long row of cabinets on his right side, upon which their doors are labeled for various spare parts. He began his search there for an operating camera. For each cupboard he opened, Michael had mixed reactions: sometimes he marveled at the pieces of equipment or advanced devices lying within; or he cringed at finding certain animatronic anatomy parts that seemed to stare back at him. After about ten minutes of searching, he found his objective in the far end of the cabinet row. Removing a box from its cluster, he recognized the make and model as one he once installed during a contract from his old job.

Looking up to a corner, he could see the old camera overlooking the entire room. Its cable connection was frayed, explaining the static before, so the entire device needed to be removed. Luckily for Michael, this type of camera could slide off its arm attachment, so no unscrewing was necessary. Just a matter of plugging it in and powering it up, Michael thought, a small smile emerging. This will be easy.

It took another ten minutes for him to hook up the new one. Putting the damaged one in its new counterpart's box, Michael set it on the workbench by a trash bin to be disposed. He read the time as 5:10am—just enough time to check the camera's operation in the security room before leaving.

Though, he took a little time waiting it out in the repair room, just in case.

Upon leaving his residence, he made slow, clean sweeps of his surroundings as he made his way back to the security room. Once he returned, he turned his attention to the replaced camera feed. Sure enough, it was working perfectly now, its display screen no longer grainy. With a drop of satisfaction, he rechecked the clock and read 5:49am. Signing off, he did one more check in the clubroom before heading back to the locker room, feeling a bit more secure.

With his pack in hand, he turned to the hallway's back door and pushed the handle. Feeling it unlock, he was about to leave until his ears caught the faintest of shuffles behind him. Turning his head, his eyes caught a dark figure on the other end of the hallway, close to the repair room door, staring back at him with a solitary yellow eye.

That was enough for Michael to slam the door behind him in a split second.