Chapter Text
Sebastian Scott stares at the stranger sat at the desk in the security room. Wrinkled blacks jeans, a white shirt with a blue waistcoat, and his shoulder length hair is mostly brown, except for the bottom third which is a faded green. His hair is obscuring his face as he peers curiously at the monitors.
“Can I help you?”
The stranger doesn’t move. “Manager.”
Technically there is no manager. Like most Fazbear locations, managers don’t tend to stick around here very long. Sure someone will get put in the role every once in a blue moon, but within three weeks they’re funnelled up the corporate ladder and never seen or heard from again. When there’s no manager, the duties fall on whoever has been working there the longest.
“I guess that’s me?”
Still watching the cameras, the stranger pushes the other rolling chair at him with his foot. Seb catches it.
“Sit.”
Seb gently drums his fingers against the chair, “You’re not an inspector are you?”
There’s a script that staff are supposed follow when it comes to inspectors but Seb never bothered to memorise it. He’s never known any Fazbear location to have an inspection. Ever. So there was never any reason to waste the time.
The stranger brushes his hair behind his ear as he turns, revealing his bright purple irises. Seb’s fingers turn white as he grips the chair tighter, taking a slight step back.
The man chuckles, gesturing to the seat, and this time Seb sits, careful not to move any closer.
“Is there a problem?”
“You’re hiring.”
Seb nods. “We’re always hiring.”
Every week without fail a job listing runs in the tail end of the local newspaper.
HELP WANTED Join the family at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria Various jobs available/ Pay negotiable Some jobs now with Hazard Pay
with a clip art Freddy, an email address and a phone number at the bottom. It hasn’t changed in the 3 years since Seb saw it and found his way to this cursed restaurant. It’s never not running. Freddy’s is always hiring.
“There’s a resumé you need to lose.”
The stranger reaches for the pile of perpetual resumés that always sit on the side by the cam switcher. From the pile he pulls a piece of paper, dragging it to the other end of the desk.
Once he reaches the edge of the desk, his fingertips glow a light purple and the paper flies through the air to land in Seb’s fingers.
“Burning it won’t be enough. This will need a personal touch.” With a small flourish, he pulls a business card from nowhere and firmly places it on the desk. “Call this number if there are any difficulties.”
Seb glances over the resumé. There’s nothing spectacular about it. Pretty standard fare. A good amount of missing employment time but that’s never been a problem here.
“But we hire everyone. Won’t it be suspicious when we- and you’re gone.” When Seb looks up the room is empty. The only evidence anyone else was ever there, the business card still on the desk.
As he moves the chair back, still clutching the resumé, the pendant tucked beneath the neck of Seb’s shirt glows and Travis appears in the doorway, blond hair, brown and white bomber jacket, and the usual look of suspicion on his semi-transparent form.
“Well that was suspicious.”
“Don’t start,” Seb sighs as he slumps into the seat and looks over all the cameras. Everything is exactly as it always is. Nothing was moved or changed, and nothing appears to be going wrong. At least this should be an easy cover.
“Oh come on, you’re telling me you didn’t find that suspicious?” Travis points out the door.
Seb doesn’t respond. He knows what Travis is trying to do here and he’s not biting. The best thing is to just not engage him. It’s far from a fool-proof plan though, one that relies on Travis actually getting bored of something.
“Did you see his eyes?”
“No actually,” Seb snarks, “I happened to look everywhere but directly at him.”
Travis blinks out before reappearing immediately behind Seb’s chair. “You know what the purple-eyed people do right? Where they come from?”
“No.” Seb turns, jabbing a finger at Travis. “No theories.”
“But-”
“I said no!”
He glances down to the business card as he turns back to the screens. The background is a swirling blue and purple galaxy that shifts and moves as you look at it. The phone number is in the middle in white, beneath the name ‘Marvin Blake’.
Travis blinks in beside him, data ghost fingers brushing against the resumé as he pretends to read it.
“Stop it,” Seb mutters, again trying to focus on the cameras.
There’s some kid about to barf in the ballpit. A small child has wondered away from it’s parents. Freddy is glitching on every third word. The birthday kid on the far side is crying. Probably some dumb reason.
“So,” Travis asks, “the company who will hire anyone, literally anyone, doesn’t want to hire this guy.They’ll hire the uneducated, the illiterate, fugitives, violent convicts, the incompetant, and the kind of people you really don’t want around your kids but this guy,” he taps at the resumé, “this guy is too much.”
Seb stares harder at the monitors. It’s not working on him. He won’t be sucked into this.
“This is the first guy in five years that Fazbear Entertainment is refusing to hire and you don’t find that at least a little curious...?”
Damn it. Seb sighs and turns to see his friend wearing that annoying eager look he’s always gets when he sniffs a conspiracy.
“I hate you.”