August 27th, 1993

10:30 PM

Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, Hurricane, UT

Mike Schmidt stood looking at the building. It was decrepit, but in surprisingly sturdy shape. The roof only looked like it could blow out at any moment, and the only thing that gave him trepidation was the fact that the windows were boarded up.

Wait… why were the windows boarded up? There's no way the company doesn't even have enough cash for a couple window panes.

Mike ignored the creeping chill and strode through the rain to the front door.

Before he could open the door, however, he was interrupted by a voice beside him.

"You're making a mistake, kid."

Irritated, Mike was about to reply to the manager that he was 25, thank you very much! …when he realized that the man talking to him wasn't the manager.

A tall man in a dirty gray trench coat stood a couple feet away from Mike. His steel-gray eyes bore into him with all the softness of a surgical scalpel.

Mike ignored his bemusement. "Who are you and why are you trespassing on company grounds?"

"The way I see it," the stranger replied good-naturedly, "I'm technically not on company grounds. No one said I couldn't loiter in a parking lot."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Mike grumbled. "It's not your neck on the line if the manager catches you doing this on my shift."

"…I heard you're the night guard of this place."

"From who- You know what, forget it. You're right, I'm the night guard. So?" Mike's voice came out a bit more confrontational than he would have liked, but it wasn't his fault that the weird guy made his hackles raise.

The stranger was silent for a moment. When he replied, it was in a much softer and quieter tone than he had used before.

"You don't know what you're getting into. Please, reconsider this. It's not too late. The company doesn't have its claws in you yet."

Mike was annoyed. "Great. Another one of you."

That actually surprised the strange man. "You've been warned before?"

"Warned, shouted at, call it what you will. I've had the whole tangent parroted to me four times already. Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't wanna make it a fifth, and I'm almost getting late for my shift."

Mike attempted to shove his way into the front door, but he was stopped by the stranger.

"… You'll change your mind after today. When you do, come see me." The stranger handed him a scrap of crumpled paper.

Mike had no illusions about the situation.

Sure, the locals seemed to hate the place more than usual, and many people crossed themselves when they walked past the building, but as far as he had read up on the franchise, it was nothing more than a restaurant with a history of unfortunate accidents.

Sorta like Macbeth in theaters, Mike was confident that the place was completely ordinary and monotone. His shift was probably going to be a couple of hours staring at a clock and chasing off the occasional vagabond.

He had no idea just how wrong he was.