Chapter 1: Been a son
Book 1: The Most Dangerous Game
Wednesday, September 26th, 2001
The bulkhead door slid open, automatically closing as he stepped into the chamber. Stepping in front of four metal benches, he eyed the displays next to each one, taking notes with his clipboard as the figures on each bench breathed steadily. Sitting down at the desk nearby he accessed the computer in front of him to quickly update his report. Getting up, he went to the display on each bench, pressing a button on each to change the readout.
For a second he believed the readouts were just as he was expecting, then blinked when he saw the line graph scrolling across one of the displays. There was a spike. There shouldn't be any spikes on the readout. He breathed a sigh of relief after it leveled out again. Just an anomaly, he thought. His heart skipped a beat when he heard chirps from each device, readouts spiking up and down.
There was a clatter as the clipboard in his hand fell to the ground, and the man felt a tear running down his cheek as his breathing became erratic.
He only managed two words.
"Dear god…"
Monday, January 4th, 2016
Mike let out a shiver as he drove down the road, his hands numb as the heater in the old truck fought to keep him warm. He bumped up slightly in his seat, shocks creaking slightly as he went over the curb to pull into the cracked driveway. He slipped out onto the driveway, slamming the door behind him as he did. Walking up the small path connecting the front porch with the driveway, he looked back at his dad's old truck.
Tires were worn, the blue paint was chipped in places, rust peeking out from said chips, and he groaned as he saw the dent in the front bumper and the sagging left fender. The '06 Dodge Dakota had seen better days. It was the only car his dad ever bought brand new, and he would let Mike know every other day how he regretted it after it started breaking down, grumbling about how American engineering isn't what it used to be.
He turned back and popped open the screen door, keys jingling as he unlocked the front door to the old white brick house. He stepped in, leaving his old high-school backpack on the kitchen counter before heading down the hallway to his old room. Walking past the closet on his left he peeked open the door just past it, nothing new. The room had been cleaned out years ago. The pink paint was fading, and the metal frame holding the bare mattress was beginning to rust. He shut it and walked to his room at the end of the hall, sitting down at his desk.
Slumping back in the tattered office chair he hung his head back, staring at the old popcorn ceiling that was sporting a few cobwebs. Sitting back up he flipped up and powered on his laptop, an old ThinkPad he found in a pile of junk on the side of the road that he had fixed up himself. He waited for the old hard disk drive to boot up, wishing in that second that he had replaced it with a newer solid state hard drive. The beast finally finished chugging, and he opened the web browser as fast as it would let him.
He pulled up the bookmarked job listing site, resting his chin on his palm. Apart from one, he had worked every job in town. Ravenswood was teetering on becoming a ghost town, many of the good jobs had since left. Sure, there were several out of town he could commute to, but the nearest one was over an hour away, and the pickup was one bad day away from becoming scrap. He scanned the display trying to find any new listings. There was one, one that he'd seen every time he opened this page. He shuts the laptop and lays his arms and head on the table looking down, breathing heavily for a moment. He lets the anxiety pass, then gets up and heads to the shower. On his way he looks at a photo frame hanging on the hallway wall, a young boy with black hair and a wide smile, and a graying older man next to him with a grin on his face and a hand on the boy's shoulder. Behind them was the same pickup his dad got when he was 12. Both had their hands and faces covered in oil.
"Sorry dad, I lost another one.", he whispered before stepping into the bathroom. He sat in the showers' basin, letting the hot water pour over him as he was deep in thought. Suddenly his breathing became heavier, quickening in pace as tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes before he suddenly stopped. He steeled himself, then turned off the water.
Again, he was in front of his computer screen, looking at the job listing. He hesitated for a moment, then clicked the link.
HELP WANTED
Freddy Fazbear's Pizza
Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift.
Mon – Fri, 12am-6am.
Monitor cameras, ensure safety of equipment and animatronic characters.
Not responsible for injury.
$270 a week.
To apply:
Call 1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR or please leave your name and number below.
He quickly left his information and clicked submit, closing the computer and laying down, anxiety welling up in his chest. His heart skipped a beat when he heard it ring. It hasn't even been 10 minutes! Sitting up he pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"Hello?", he asked meekly.
"Yes hello! Is this mister Michael Schmidt?" The caller on the other side sounded like an older man, sounded a little too happy, like he was forcing it.
"Yes sir, that's me."
"Well Mr. Schmidt, I saw your application. When is a good time to bring you in for an interview?"
"I can come by anytime sir; what time is good for you?"
"Excellent! The pizzeria will be open until 7:30 tonight so we still have a couple hours. Just make sure you swing by at least 30 minutes before closing time and we'll get right to it! Just ask one of the staff and they'll point you right to my office. Do you have any questions before the interview?"
"No sir, I'll save 'em for later."
"Alright, see you soon!" Click.
The sun was already setting by the time he pulled into the cracked parking lot, guiding the old pickup as gently as he could over the potholes to find a parking spot. The pizzeria was a 20-minute drive out of town, not too far. You could see the Ohio river across the road, no other buildings were nearby, the establishment was surrounded by trees. It was 6:49, and the parking lot was nearly empty as he walked through, the people only left were probably staff judging by the number of cars. The lot was usually packed whenever he drove by. He walked up to the building and gave it a closer look; the walls were painted a faded, almost sick looking shade of yellow (which was peeling in more than a few places), with a checkered pattern wrapped around the lower half of the building meeting double glass doors (which were off-center, more to the right). Looking up he scanned the sign, the pizzeria's name in an almost classy font curved gently above faces depicting the three-wait, three? I remembered there being a fourth. He shrugged, this place has been around for so long, only a matter of time before one of the clunkers broke down, especially after…
He shook his head, looked forward, and walked through the threshold, eager to get out of the January chill. The smell bombarding him as he walked in made him wish for a second that he hadn't. Jesus, the shitty food doesn't smell that bad, but that other smell mixed in... Lo and behold there it was, a nice little puddle of puke under a nearby party table, with a defeated looking janitor in the process of cleaning it up. There were several staff members scattered around the main dining hall busy cleaning up the days refuse.
He walked in front of the main stage, taking in his surroundings. The main stage in the center of the wall had the curtain closed, the characters likely done for the day. In the corner to the right of the stage was a ball pit, a staff member hovering over it looking ready to throw up. To the left of the stage was the main entrance where he had just come in, and to the left of that was a locked door marked Parts and Service. Turning clockwise he spotted the kitchen doors, a few dirty old arcade cabinets lined up to the right of it, and near the end of the line of arcade machines were two closed bathroom doors; marked accordingly. Opposite the stage were two hallways, and what looked like a wooden office door on the wall between them. It was dark brown with a translucent glass panel, which struck him as odd considering how it clashed with the drab grey walls and checkered pattern that matched the one outside the building. Whatever, he wasn't a home decorator. In the corner to the right facing the hallways was a beat up looking merry go round that had seen better days. And finally, taking up a decent bit of that wall, was a doorway with a wide purple curtain and a sign in front saying Sorry, Out of Order! He snapped his gaze away from it as a man walked up to him, sporting a toothy smile.
"Hey there! You must be Mr. Schmidt." The man held out his right hand.
Ever the professional, Mike shook his hand. "Yes sir, it's nice to meet you. I'm here for that interview."
Their hands broke apart, and Mike took a good look at the gentleman in front of him. He wore a black sports jacket, with a light purple button up shirt and checkered tie, with his shirt tucked into neat khaki pants and shiny black shoes, and a classy looking analog watch on his left wrist to top it all off; though he noticed that the bronze finish was faded with some oxidation peeking out underneath its metal strap.
Sure made him feel underdressed, with his worn black pants and blue polo shirt, the black sharpie marker stains thankfully covered up by his dad's old brown leather jacket. It didn't seem like the man standing in front of him seemed to care about his attire, as he walked Mike over to the dark office door, opening it for him to invite him in. "Thanks." He said as he walked inside. It was a quaint little space, with a few kids drawings on the left wall and frames holding a degree and certifications on the right. In the center was a wooden desk with a worn looking office chair behind it, an older model laptop and a neat stack of paperwork on the desk.
The old man walked past him and around the desk to sit down in the chair, "Sorry, I'd offer you a seat, but I haven't gotten around to replacing it just yet. My name is Mr. Afton, and boy am I glad you're here. Our previous night guard quit over the weekend, I reposted the listing as soon as I could this morning, damn glad you responded when you did."
Not like I had any other options, he thought. Though with how many times he's seen the job listing online, he did have one question… "Is that common, I mean, night guards quitting?"
Mr. Afton's lips curled into a frown, his graying brown hair seemingly getting even grayer. He sighed, "More than you'd think, but I just guess the night shift just gets to their nerves. We're surrounded by woods, and the only company they get is the lifeless critters up on stage. So I guess their imaginations just go crazy, I hope you're made of sterner stuff." He adjusted his glasses, "any other questions before we begin?"
"No sir." Mike shook his head.
"Excellent." Afton reached over and pulled up the laptop, scanning it before nodding to himself and looking back up at Mike. "I see here you've hopped around quite a few jobs back in town, what's that about?"
Mike wrung his hands nervously, "I get panic attacks from time to time, they always came at the worst times at my jobs. Supervisors always said it was 'too disruptive'." Afton sucked in a sharp breath, though Mike didn't notice.
"I'm sure that won't be a problem here, don't think Freddy and the gang are gonna care all that much if you know what I mean." He closed the laptop before speaking again, "a couple more questions if you don't mind, the other is more out of curiosity than anything else. You're 22, correct?"
"Yes sir."
The old man nodded, frowning again for a second. "Mhmm, figured a young man like you would've left Ravenwood for greener pastures by now. Got family tying you down?"
"No, sir. My sister left home when I was a kid, and I haven't seen her since…mom was never really in the picture. Dad passed away a year ago, he left me the house and his old car. Ain't got nowhere else to go." Mike felt like he overshared a bit, but it wasn't like he got to talk to anyone else about it, and the old man didn't seem to mind.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I know what it feels like," he glanced at the drawings to Mike's left, "but don't you fret!" Afton forced a grin as he grabbed a form from the stack on his desk and slid it towards Mike, "I'm sure a fine young man like you will fit right in with the Fazbear family!" He reached in his jacket, fishing out a pen and handing it over to Mike, who took it and signed the bottom line without so much as skimming the paper.
Beggars can't be choosers, he thought as he handed back the pen. Mr. Afton took the signed paper and slid it in a drawer in his desk. "When do I start?"
"I was hoping that you could start tonight, if you don't mind?"
Mike shook his head, "Not at all sir. Is there a dress code, or am I getting a uniform?"
"Oh no, security staff haven't had proper uniform in ages, especially since we only have 'em on night shift these days. As for dress code, as long as you're decent it's not a problem. All you'll need is this," he reached into a second drawer and put it on the desk in front of Mike, "just in case anyone from the sheriff's department decides to check in during your shift."
Mike took it into his hand. It was shaped like a shield, with a cartoonish depiction of the Freddy character engraved in the center. Below that, also engraved, in bold letters read SECURITY. Much like Mr. Afton's old watch, the bronze finish was on its way out.
He reached over to shake the old man's hand, but before he went to grab it Afton had one more thing to say. "Oh, and before I forget, I gotta show you your office! Come, this way." Mr. Afton rose out of the chair and walked out of his office turning left into the hallway, Mike directly behind him. Kids drawings lined either side of the hallway, Mike imagined the opposite hallway looked much the same, sans the supply closet that they passed to their right. Afton led him to the end of the hall and though an empty doorway on the left leading into a small office, on the opposite side an identical door leading into the other hallway.
"Cozy."
"Mhmm, you'll be right at home here," he pointed to the desk in front, "this 'lil computer here is for the camera system, just cut it on when you come in and you should figure it out pretty quickly if not, there's an instruction manual in the desk." He then moved over to the door they came in through, showing him the big red and white buttons next to the door. "You'll want to step back for a sec," He pressed the red button on top, a metal door slamming down in front of them.
"The hell?!"
"Yeah, I know what you're thinking," he hit the button again to open the door, "truth is the previous owner way way back had these installed. Too much of a hassle to tear 'em out, the place was probably some kind of panic room. Security loved using them to keep the kids from pestering them back in the day."
"Huh, makes sense."
"The other buttons' for a light hanging above each door. If your nerves are ever getting to you and you think you got some night crawler watching you, just hit it."
Mike took it all in, everything seemed straight forward, bar the odd choice in security doors. Though he noticed the square windows next to each doorframe, observing the scratches each one had, place is ancient, he thought, probably from all the kids over the years finding ways to mess with the security staff.
"I think I got it all down."
"Sounds great," there was a jingle as Mr. Afton handed him the keys, "I'll see you in the morning after your shift!" He gave Mike one final nod and walked out the right door into the hallway. Mike took the left and started down the hallway, making his way towards the front door.
Shit, I'm basically getting paid to sit on my ass all night, what was my dumbass so worried about?
William stood in the threshold to the east hall, watching the young man walk out of the building. Before returning to his office, he noticed one of the "staff" watching Michael leave, a shark-like grin on his face. He let out a long sigh, and entered his office before sitting down, then buried his face in his arms down on his desk, and dreamed of happier days.
A/N: Hey yall. Welcome to my first real attempt at a story on this site. This story takes inspiration from a few things, another story on here included, but it's my full intention to make this wholly original (as much as a fanfiction can be). Criticism is welcome, so as long as you aren't just taking the piss out of me and are at least trying to be respectful, don't hold anything back. Updates will be infrequent, so please don't hold your breath, this will get updated when I can, this is just a hobby for me. Not a whole lot going on this chapter, it's mostly setup for the next two chapters and for the story as a whole. I'm sure you noticed how I put "Book 1" up at the top, so I'll quickly explain that. I already have an outline for how I want most of this story to go, with details getting filled in as I go. A lot of book 1 will be pretty wordy, as it will be dedicated in part to establishing the setting and propping up the rest of the narrative. I have no clue how long each book will be, so we'll just have to see. I'll answer any questions at the end of each chapter, though I don't want to show all my cards just yet, so you might not get the answer you want from me here. So yeah, see you next chapter. Take it easy, drive safe, and don't get caught dead making promises you can't keep.