Chapter Text
It began, as many stories do, with a stormy afternoon. Rain lashed the windshields of the many cars gridlocked in traffic, while thunder rumbled overhead. After a good half hour of crawling through the flooding highway, one tiny pea-green Rabbit peeled away from the rest of the throng and headed down the Burnet Street exit ramp. Its occupant glanced down at the phone resting in the passenger seat, and returned to squinting through the windshield. Through waves of water and squeaky wipers, he finally saw a hint of green neon shimmering in the distance. As he drew nearer, it solidified into a familiar scrawling text and logo.
Achievement Hunter Arcade and Pizzeria.
Even after all these years, the sight made Jeremy’s heart leap in his throat. Then he shook himself and reached into his pocket. The little piece of newspaper had been crushed after hours and hours of being read and reread and reread, not to mention the hours spent in his pocket. He pulled at the worn edges and unfolded it once more.
Help wanted. Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the night shift. 12 am to 6 am. Monitor cameras, ensure safety of both equipment and animatronic characters. Prior experience not required. Not responsible for injury/dismemberment. $120/week. To apply, call 1-800-ACHIEVE or ask for Trevor at the Burnet location.
‘You’re not here to reminisce, Dooley,’ he told himself, ‘You’re here to get a job. Now don’t fuck it up.’
Jeremy shoved the paper back in his pocket and pulled his umbrella out of the backseat. He spent a moment glaring at the rain, shut his eyes, and popped the door open. In the twenty seconds it took him to get to the front doors, he was already soaked to the bone and shivering. Not the best way to start an interview. He grimaced down at his suit and squeezed the cuffs and sleeves. When he thought he looked a tiny bit more presentable, he steeled himself and pushed the door open.
A wave of noise slammed into his eardrums and almost immediately culminated in a headache. A dozen different game cabinets blared their start music, the DDR machine looped the same song incessantly, and some shitty pop song blared over the ancient speakers. Jeremy wove through the cabinets, horribly aware of the puddles he left in his wake, and was almost knocked over by a herd of small children making a beeline for the DDR machine. He winced and rubbed his shoulder.
‘Okay, where’s Trevor’s office? He’s gotta be around here somewhere…’
Jeremy glanced around the arcade floor, and couldn’t help but linger on the main stage. The black velvet curtains had several patches in them now, and looked much more threadbare than he remembered, but otherwise they were unchanged from the curtains in his memory. The stage itself was dull and lifeless, and a glance at the clock told him it would be another thirty minutes before the crew performed. He was sorely tempted to wait and see if the animatronics were still any good, but that would make him fifteen minutes late for his interview, which truly was the best impression to make on a prospective employer.
Finally, Jeremy wrenched his eyes away from the stage and found the door marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’. He nodded to himself and made a beeline for it. Once he stepped into the aging hallway and shut the door behind him, the noise of the main arcade room stopped entirely. In the distance he heard the faint sound of a clock tick-tick-ticking, and the slow squeeeaaaak of a chair leaning back. He swallowed and walked down to the first door on his left. His shoes squeaked on the tile with every step.
Suddenly, the door in question flung itself open, and a rather disheveled head poked out of it.
“Hey! Are you here for the night guard position?” he asked.
Jeremy blinked. “Uh, yeah, I’m here for the interview-”
“Great! Awesome! You’re hired!”
Jeremy’s mouth fell open. “But, I, uh, the interview! Shouldn’t you-”
“Can you hold a flashlight?”
“Obviously, but-”
“Can you use a computer?”
“Sure, but that’s not-”
“Are you afraid of inflicting or receiving bodily harm?”
“Uh…I mean, it would depend on the situation, but-”
“There. That was your interview. You’re hired.” He stepped fully into the hallway and held out a hand. “I’m Trevor Collins, the manager. And you are?”
Jeremy thought of and aborted twenty different responses and questions, and in the end, simply held out a hand. “Yeah, um, I am the, uh, I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Dooley. I guess I’m the new night guard.”
“You sure are, Jeremy. Now, let’s give you the grand tour.” Trevor got behind Jeremy and directed him towards the end of the hallway. “First, and most importantly, and only, your office is down here, at the end of the hall. It’s…a little cozy, but it works well enough.”
They stopped beside a gaping, door-shaped black hole. Trevor directed Jeremy into it and flicked a switch on the wall. A light hummed and flickered to life overhead, and what it illuminated was about as far from ‘okay’ as Jeremy could imagine. Cobwebs decorated every corner, and a half-inch thick layer of dust coated the surface of the desk, as well as the ancient beige desktop sitting upon it. A horde of withered children’s drawings decorated half of one wall, while a decrepit poster took up the other half. One little folding chair sat in the middle of the room.
“Like I said, not much, but it gets the job done.” Trevor ran a finger across the top of the monitor and grimaced at the amount of dust on his index finger.
Jeremy bit back a remark on how ‘not much’ it actually was, and instead went to examine the poster. He had to wipe a good deal of the dust off it, but eventually he exposed the depicted figures. Once he did, he stepped back again and examined them.
God, it had been a literal decade, but he still remembered all their names and faces perfectly. Under their proud name and motto stood the animatronics everyone came to know and love. Geoff stood in the middle, one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his microphone. Jack stood on his left. Most of the left side of his body was obscured by Geoff, but Jeremy could see his right arm, and the piece of drippy pizza he held in his right hand. For a moment, he was surprised to see Michael standing on Geoff’s right, trademark beanie and scowl in place, arms folded over his chest. After a moment or two of staring, he remembered that the old stage roster had been abruptly changed, and Michael was moved from the Lads’ Corner to front and center stage.
To this day, Jeremy swore he’d looked unhappy ever since.
“Man, whatever happened to Ryan? Wasn’t he the most popular animatronic at this place? Why’d they get rid of him?”
Trevor coughed into his fist and shifted in place. “That’s, uh, a bit of a no-no subject, if you know what I mean.” He frowned up at the poster and then seemed to remember why they were there. “Anyway, this is your office, like I said, and you’ll be here from 12 to 6. From here,” he tapped the monitor, “you’ll watch the cameras and make sure nothing happens.”
Jeremy waited for him to continue. When Trevor raised his eyebrows, he asked, “Is…is that really it? Do I not, like, wander around and make sure-”
“No!” Trevor visibly swallowed and said, “No, you’ll stay in here all night. It’s the 21st goddamn century, Jeremy, there’s no need to…to walk around anymore. Jeez.”
Jeremy nodded once and looked down at the keyboard attached to the monitor. It consisted of twelve buttons, all of which had numbers on them. He glanced up at Trevor and frowned.
“So, uh, are…were there any other applicants?”
Trevor’s hands immediately dipped into his pockets. “Um….no. You’re the first and only one. Um. Since we, uh, since we put the ad up.” He resolutely stared into Jeremy’s eyes, and Jeremy immediately felt a shiver run down his back. “So, like I said, that’s about it for your job. Super simple. Boring, actually. Any other questions?”
“Yeah, like, where the hell is the door?” Jeremy gestured at the gaping doorway. “I’m not sure I want to have to stare at an empty hallway during my entire shift.”
“They’re, uh, fairly new. Just installed. Special hydraulic emergency doors. You activate ‘em with this button right here.” Trevor tapped a large red button set into the doorframe. “They’re just in case of emergency, okay? Don’t need you sucking up the power. We’re deep enough in the hole as it is.”
The question Jeremy had just thought of died in the face of this information. “Is…is it really that bad?”
Some of Trevor’s tension left him, and without it, he suddenly looked vulnerable and scared, like a boy trapped in a man’s body. “I…yeah. Yeah, it’s really that bad. Since…that thing I told you I can’t talk about…and several other…incidents…we’ve practically been hemorrhaging money. Corporate’s almost never gotten off our backs about that. We’ve already had to sell a bunch of our old cabinets just to stay in the black. And, at the end of the day…we just aren’t…nobody cares anymore. The animatronic arcade pizzeria thing died out a long time ago. I mean, maybe some locations can make it work, but AH…” Trevor stared down at his shoes. “With the track record we’ve had, I’d be surprised if this old place can make it another year.”
“Oh.” Jeremy looked up at the poster again. The faces smiling back down at him stirred something wonderfully nostalgic in his chest, like seeing an old friend for the first time in decades. “I had no idea. Man, that sucks, I loved this place when I was a kid.”
“Yeah,” said Trevor, “me, too.”
They looked up at the poster. Besides the dust, Jeremy spotted yellowy-brown mold marks and tiny tears all over its surface, and it had warped significantly, twisting away from the tarnished thumbtacks pinning it to the wall. Most of the colors had muted with time and exposure, to the point where Geoff’s blue eyes were almost gray. If he craned his head just enough, the happy grins looked pasted on and fake.
Trevor finally broke the moment and said, “Okay, well, back to business. If, uh, you have no more questions, and you’re okay with your pay grade and hours, we’ll get you started on Monday at 12 am sharp. How about you run down everything I just told you, and then I’ll let you get about your day?”
“Um…do I get a uniform?”
“Oh, shit, yeah, I forgot to get it back from the dry cleaner’s.” Trevor smacked his palm against his forehead. “I’ll get it this afternoon, and you can pick it up tomorrow. Sound good?”
Jeremy glanced around again. Honestly, this was about as far from ‘acceptable job’ as it could get, even if it was in the arcade from his childhood, but his situation had gotten dire enough that he could literally no longer afford to be picky. If he managed to get another job during the day, he might just be able to keep his apartment. And his car. And maybe everything else. He’d just suffer the shitty job for a few months until he got a break, and then he’d laugh about it over beers later on down the line. Perfect.
So he looked at Trevor and said, “So…I just stay in here, watch the cameras, and make sure everything’s okay. Is that it?”
Trevor grinned and nodded. “Yep! That’s it! Seriously, it’s really boring. Nobody’s stolen a cabinet in a while, they never even bothered to try and steal any of the boys, and it’s not like we keep cash on hand anymore. Easiest money you’ll ever make in your life.” Trevor moved back outside and jerked his thumb down the hallway. “If you’ll follow me back to my office, I’ll get your contracts and stuff printed out.”
“Sounds great, man.” Inwardly, Jeremy sighed and made a mental note to bring his DS or a book or something. He’d definitely had worse than boring. Boring, at least, was easy, and relatively painless. He’d breeze through the job, wear out his nostalgia, and save his broke ass from the homeless shelter all in one fell swoop. This would be just fine, right?
Right?
God this was going to suck.