Chapter Text
There’s a town in the middle of the US. Where it is doesn’t matter. It’s name doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that it’s home to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza and Circus Baby’s Pizza World, and that a handful of people live there.
Micheal Schmidt, Jeremy Fitzgerald, Fritz Smith, Scott Thorne, and Michael Afton live in this small town in Middle America. Scott and Jeremy work for Freddy Fazbear’s. Micheal, Michael, and Fritz work for both Fazbear’s and Circus Baby’s. They have family outside work.
Henry Emily-Faz co-owns Freddy Fazbear’s with William Afton, and William owns Circus Baby’s on his own. Perhaps they have their own families outside work, as well.
That’s all you need to know about this story.
All will be made clear in a matter of time.
Now sit still, children, and listen closely.
I will tell you the tale of how you came to be free.
A woman who was not doing paperwork sat in her office. She was, instead, browsing on her phone. Work was piled on her desk, though she insisted to herself she’d do it tomorrow, she knew deep down, tomorrow would never come.
This was Miss Fritz Smith. She came into work everyday with an unironed outfit, her hair tied back behind her head, and an aura that reeked of a lack of soul inside. Not that she was evil, it was just that whatever light was inside her died long ago. Fritz was not a happy woman, often being a bit too firm with children, but she excelled at her job. Her specialty was repairing the robots; she had been dumped with logging complaints from customers that night. She was a phenomenal mechanic and repairman, she just had no motivation to write down that yet another soccer mom was threatening to sue because they were out of vanilla ice cream sandwiches.
It was the golden hours, after closing, but before the animatronics began roaming. Fritz liked this time frame the best out of her whole day.
She was waiting for the new hire to take her place for the night ahead so she could get off work and go drink with friends. Alcohol tasted like death to her. She powered through it for that sweet, sweet buzz that wiped her quarrels with life. Her dear friend Mike was waiting for her, and her not-so-dear coworkers, Michael and Scott.
A knock sounded, and Fritz looked up. There was no door, so the boy standing there had been knocking on the frame of the entryway.
He was a bit… young for the job. No older than his mid-teens. A zit-ridden, greasy and freckled face, unkempt orange hair sticking out of his outfit’s cap, a tall, lanky body that wasn’t quite finished growing, and a posture like he was a namesake of Notre Dame.
“Uh, hi… I’m-I’m Jeremy? I’m here for the night shift?” He spoke awkwardly, his retainer clearly slurring his ‘s’s and ‘sh’s.
“God in heaven.” Fritz spoke without thinking.
They’d hired a baby to go against the animatronics tonight.
An infant. A child. He was so small! So young!
“Is everything ok, Misssss…?” Jeremy shrank down.
“Fritz Smith. How old are you?” She demanded.
“I’m 16.” He answered
“Christ.” She commented.
Jeremy shuffled like a giraffe towards the desk, but Fritz did not leave the chair.
“I need to sit down here, Miss Smith.” He stammered.
“Who hired you?”
“Mr. Afton did…?”
“Oh, cool! I’ll kill him!”
Jeremy flinched as Fritz rose to her feet.
He was far too young for a job that risked his life, and William had to know that. Never a parent herself, Fritz’s motherly instincts flared regardless. She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“You’re not guarding tonight, kiddo. Come with me.” Finally, she spoke and laid a hand on his shoulder. He swallowed and nodded.
A man who was waiting sat at the bar. To his right sat two more men, considerably younger than him. The man glanced at the door again, sipping his beer.
Mike Schmidt; chief nightguard. Well, he wasn’t actually very notable, or even in charge of anything, he just wanted to feel special sometimes. Unlike Fritz, Mike took special care of his outfit, but not himself. He was stubbly, haven given up on shaving daily after a lifetime of cutting up his face. Bags under his eyes, he spent his nights off drinking and on his phone. His work nights were spent trying to just survive the onslaught of furry adversaries.
Right next to him, Scott Thorne, a younger man most known for having his right arm ripped off by Toy Foxy, affectionately nicknamed ‘The Mangle’. It’s a miracle he came back to work at all after that. He had a fancy prosthesis now. Sometimes he’d absentmindedly feel something with it, forgetting his lack of nerves. Scott was known to the day shift as the ‘Phone Guy’, calling in orders of pizza ingredients, nearly always on the phone. He also called into the night shift just to check in.
Finally, on the end of the bar sat Michael Afton, the youngest of the men, and William Afton’s son. He was cheerful, still full of life. He joked with Scott and showed him memes on his phone. Sometimes he made his own based off work in-jokes. A good manner of those jokes were about not having sex with the animatronics, which put off Mike and Fritz alike, as they still viewed Michael as a child. Michael was 21, but that was a baby in the older adult’s eyes.
There was a jingling as the bar doors opened again, and Mike nearly didn’t look over, until he saw the familiar faded maroon letterman jacket that Fritz always wore being hung up on the coat rack.
“Sorry I’m late. I brought the new kid, because I’ll be damned if I’m letting him do the night shift. I left a note for your dad, Michael.” Fritz sat down beside Mike, and Jeremy sat beside her as well.
“...Can he drink?” Mike asked.
“Oh, f-ck no. But I’m not leaving a kid alone in Fazbear’s after hours.” Fritz waved her hand dismissively.
“Let’s get a booth!” Scott proposed.
It was a good idea, considering their group size now. They all shuffled with their drinks (except Jeremy) into a rounded booth by the wall. Fritz was last, leaning over the bar quickly to order a glass of orange juice for the teen. Jeremy tried to reach for his wallet to pay her, but Fritz patted his shoulder, saying nothing but silently urging him to let her pay for his beverage.
The last two squeezed into the booth, letting Jeremy sit on the end so he didn’t have to be awkwardly close to adults he didn’t know yet.
“Summer job, huh?” Mike asked.
“Um, yes…” Jeremy avoided eye contact, “My mom needed help with rent…”
“That’s sweet. I’m Mike, Mike Schmidt. That’s Fritz, of course, and these are Scott and Michael.” Mike motioned to the group.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Schmidt.” Jeremy smiled awkwardly.
Mike blinked in surprise at the formality, then laughed.
“He’s not laughing at you, he’s laughing because nobody, besides the little kids, calls him Mister.” Fritz whispered to Jeremy.
Conversation boomed once again, with Jeremy doing a lot of smiling and nodding, not saying much himself. Eventually, the topic of Circus Baby’s Pizza World came up. Then, the topic of raiding the pantry at Circus Baby’s. Jeremy squirmed in discomfort at the idea of stealing from such an uptight establishment, especially one owned by his new boss.
“Hey Jeremy, wanna tag along? Circus Baby’s has Dippin Dots. You like Dippin Dots?” Fritz asked, her voice soft.
“...Yeah.” Jeremy nodded.
“Let’s get you some Dots! We’ll get us all some Dots.” Fritz papped his back.
A robot that was not online was slumped in the corner of Circus Baby’s kitchen. She rested her head using a tuft of cheek fur against the wall. It wasn’t real fur, just solid plastic. More plastic was molded into a cowlick atop her forehead. Her eyes were LCD, pitch black in her slumber. A pink gemstone, likely fake, was the centerpiece of a bowtie on her neck. Her tail, oddly flexible and textured with actual fur, was wrapped around her legs. This was one of the Funtime Foxys that Afton Robotics had built; named Vixen. She moved around at night, often running out of power in miscellaneous areas of Circus Baby’s.
Naturally, Jeremy was afraid of Vixen when he saw her.
“Oh, don’t mind Vixen.” Scott tried to reassure him, “She has a weak battery life. We find her around the place at night.”
“That’s not very comforting.” Jeremy said.
Michael approached the fox with an outstretched hand.
Vixen’s hand shot up suddenly, lacing her fingers with Michael’s. The LCDs lit up, bright yellow with black pupils. Vixen smiled, as much as she could with her limited facial pivots.
“And so the prince comes to save the princess from her eternal slumber.” Her voice was like velvet as she rose to her feet, and Michael pulled his hand away and laughed.
“You out of power or what?” Michael asked.
“Simply waiting for you.” She clasped her hands together.
“Uh.” said Jeremy.
“Yeah, she’s just kinda like that.” Fritz whispered, “Michael wouldn’t be able to tell a marriage proposal from a death threat. He thinks she’s just being friendly.”
“At least she’s not King.” Mike commented, digging in the freezer.
“King?” Jeremy turned towards the freezer.
“There’s two foxes,” Mike pulled out some cookies and cream Dots, “Vixen and King. One’s a girl, one’s a guy. Kids argued over the prototype Funtime Foxy, who they probably introduced to you as Toy Foxy, so they made two with clearer genders.”
Mike tossed the bag of Dippin Dots to Jeremy. He nearly dropped them, but fumbled and caught his treat.
“What other robots are here?” Jeremy opened his ice cream.
“Well, there’s Funtime Freddy. His name’s Loopy. He’s just another Freddy, but purple and white.” Fritz ripped open her own baggie, “Ballora, no code name for her. She’s a ballerina. Circus Baby, of course. You’ve seen her on the sign. Bonnet and Bonbon. They’re tiny Bonnies. Aaaand, there’s the thing in the computers.”
“Her name’s LOLBIT.” Vixen squinted.
“Yeah, that one’s not really a robot. LOLBIT is more of a program.” Scott said, “A really annoying program. She’s some kind of adware, but she comes back every time I wipe the hard drive.”
“Afton started a LOLBIT robot. Scrapped her right away.” Fritz added.
“Anyone else on the prowl, Vixen?” Michael grabbed a vanilla flavor bag.
“No, everyone went to their recharge ports a while ago. I’m all you’ve got, dear.” She placed both hands on Michael’s shoulder.
“Not even Afton? I need to give him some good old Fritz’in.” Fritz said.
“As usual.” Vixen huffed.
Jeremy scratched his head nervously, glancing over at Fritz every once in a while. When she noticed, Fritz scooched herself closer to him and smiled.
“Um… Miss Smith, can you drive me home?” He finally asked, “I don’t have any gas money but-”
“Jeremy, do I look like I’m asking a kid for gas money?” She laughed, “Just give me the address and you’re already there.”
He smiled, brighter than he had at all that night.
A girl who was not sleeping sat on the edge of her bed. Her room was dark. Not even the moonlight shining through her window lit it up. She moved a single ginger hair out of her face, and kicked her feet off the bed idly. Elizabeth April Afton, the currently youngest surviving child of William Afton. She preferred to go by her middle name.
Her bedtime was a long time ago. Now, she was staring out the window.
Two pin prick pupils stared back at her.
April smiled.
“Hi Charlie.”