Chapter Text
Micheal Schmidt, or Mike as he preferred, was a simple man. All he wanted was a simple life with a simple job where he could have time to do the things he enjoyed, like robotics and drawing.
Unfortunately society decided that he was a genius. From a young age Mike was more intelligent than his peers. When he was five his parents made him take classes for those who were eight. When he was eleven he was caught drawing in his maths book, that's when his parents banned any hobbies they deemed pointless. This included his two favorite hobbies: drawing and robotics.
When he turned seventeen just a year ago he had decided that he refused to go on like this. He earned money and saved it by freelancing on the internet. On his eighteenth, after the needlessly extravagant party filled with strangers, he snuck out of the house with only his most important belongings and never returned.
A few months later Mike woke up in his small, one bedroom apartment at 11am, one hour before his job interview at Freddy's Pizzeria. As much as Mike loved working from home he decided that he needed to get out a bit more. He also wanted the extra money to splurge on parts for his latest project: A cupcake robot. Said project currently laid rejected on the coffee table in the apartment's cramped living room.
He ran his long fingers through his long black hair, pulling it into a pony-tail as he waited for the kettle to boil. The coffee in his hands warmed him as he walked into his bedroom. Setting his coffee cup on the bedside table beside his single bed he looked at his clothes.
Another reason why he wanted another job was simply because his current income was too unpredictable. His paranoia meant that he barely bought himself things, after all he had bills to pay. Although he decided to buy nicer clothes for any job interviews. That's why, even though he doesn't have a lot of money, he had a cream turtleneck, black jeans and black trainers. Not the nicest outfit he's ever worn but at least he didn't look like he was living out of a box.
Walking out of his apartment he begins walking to the pizzeria. When he arrived he looked at his phone screen to see that he was five minutes early. Deciding that early was better than late he walked into the place where he would hopefully get a job.
Kids roared and screamed as he gracefully made his way to the counter. What he didn't notice was how the majority of women were looking at him... Well maybe a better way to put it was that he ignored them. He personally didn't understand why so many people seemed to like him. He wouldn't have said he was ugly but he also wouldn't have said he was that attractive either.
He approached the lady at the counter and looked at her name tag before saying, "Hello Lucy, I'm here for the security guard job? Mike Schmidt."
Her cheeks slowly painted themselves red as she looked at him, just as he was about to repeat himself she answered, "I'll go get Mr Diver now. I'll be just a moment."
As she ran off he got the chance to look at the stage. There were three animatronics: A bear, a chicken and a rabbit. When he had originally seen the job in the paper he decided to do some research about the place, his parents had never allowed him to go to fun places for kids like this. They claimed it was a 'disturbance to his studies' when he had once got the courage to ask.
The rabbit was purple, not very realistic but Mike figured that they didn't exactly need to be. It played the guitar. The yellow chicken sang back up to the brown bear... That was wearing a top hat? While he found all of this strange they all had something in common which caused a shiver to go down his spine.
Their eyes looked alive. Now, in his english studies Mike had seen people making the reference that the eyes were the window to the soul. It was only then in that moment that he truly understood what it meant. The eyes of the animatronics, which were meant to be soulless machines, looked sad. Now this also confused Mike considering that he was in an entertainment place. Wouldn't their creator want them to look happy?
Before he could think on it any longer the woman, whose name Mike had forgotten, returned with a stout man whose eyes seemed to inspect Mike before he said, "Hello Mr Schmidt, I'm Mr Diver and I'll be your boss. Let's get you started on the tour then."
The short man walked so fast that Mike, who was over a head taller than him at 5'11 had to nearly sprint to catch up with him, "Well Mike, this is where you will be staying."
They began their tour in the security room... Mike thought that 'security closet' was more accurate but he decided to not say his thoughts out loud. An ancient looking security system was being used to project grainy looking images of the pizzeria. A fan made a very annoying humming noise as Mike decided to ask.
"What are the 'door' and 'light' buttons for?" He had noticed them when he entered but he had figured Mr Diver would have explained it, apparently not considering he was already walking out of the room.
"Ah, I'll explain those to you before your shift starts. That reminds me, when your tour here is done you can go home and rest." He stops for a moment before he asks, "You can come in tonight right?"
"Yes I can."
"Good, be in by 11.30pm and I'll give you a more in depth explanation of your job. This is just to get you more familiar with the layout of the place."
The two continued their tour by heading to the area where the animatronics were, "This is our main dining area." Mr Diver began, as he did so he gestured his arms in an extravagant motion, "This is the area where the animatronics stay when they don't have a party in one of the party rooms we went past."
Mike was trying to listen to Mr Diver as he continued droning on about the 'marvellous history of the establishment' although he couldn't stop himself from freezing, he felt eyes piercing into his soul. As he turned his head to the stage to his horror the animatronics were looking at him as they played with jagged movements.
Their eyes screamed anger.
Mike decided that maybe he shouldn't focus on that but rather his boss instead, "-This establishment has been through a lot but has greatly prospered under Mr Ashford's leadership. He even has something special planned!"
"What is it?" Mike questioned.
"No clue kid," Mike's eyes narrowed at being called 'kid' but Mr Driver didn't notice, "We all thought he had performed a miracle when he announced the opening of the second diner but it appears that he wants to one up himself again."
"The second diner?" In all of Mike's research he hadn't heard of a second diner.
"Ah yes, it's opening in a few months. The man himself is announcing it today." Mike wanted to ask what it would be like but he didn't see the point in doing so at the moment.
So instead he asked, "Is there a uniform that I need to wear?"
"Ah yes, I forgot to ask you for your size so you may be in the spare for a week or so until I get one ordered."
"That's fine." Mike didn't exactly like the thought of being in clothes others had worn but he didn't complain.
"Alright then, I'll introduce you to Charles while I get your uniform."
The pair walked into the crowded kitchen, Mr Diver had shoved a young girl who blushed when Mike caught her. Before he could ask if she was ok she ran away, Mike figured that she was probably too busy to stop for too long.
"Charles!"
The man who was giving orders in the kitchen looked over and smiled before walking over. As he did so Mike looked at him. His grey hair and brown eyes matched Mr Diver's exactly. The one thing about the two that was different was that 'Charles' had a slight build.
"Heya Chris! What can I do for ya?"
"Please keep Mr Schmidt here company til I get his security uniform."
"Alright then, hurry up!"
Mr Diver scowled a little as he walked away. Charles smirked when Mike looked at him, "Heya lad, I'm Charles, head chef. Chris is the manager of the place though I like to say I'm the secondary ruler of the kitchen."
"Only secondary ruler?" Mike questioned before he could stop himself.
Luckily for him Charles just laughed before replying, "Ah yeah, Chica is the proper ruler. I just look after the place when she's on stage and tell the others what to do."
"Do you mean the chicken?" Mike couldn't believe he was asking but he was convinced that it was the 'Chica' he meant.
"Yes, she was an amazing cook back in the day."
"Was?"
"They aren't as good as they used to be. Repairs are apparently hard to afford nowadays. I miss my cooking buddy, we used to talk about everything from Bonnie's pranks to my kids." Charles wore a frown as he began preparing a pepperoni pizza.
As much as he wanted to get more details about what the man had just said he couldn't bring himself to. Although Mike felt like something was wrong, after all he had just been told about how the company was doing so well and opening another place. Why do that rather than fix the animatronics they already have?
Mike wanted the older man to smile again like before so he changed the topic, "Apologies Charles but may I ask you something?"
The man in question looked at him strangely for a few seconds before laughing, "No need to be so polite, just ask away."
"You and Mr Diver look very alike, is there some relation there?"
"Ah yeah, we're twins. Though he's the grumpy wart while I'm the happy joker."
At that Mike couldn't stop himself from laughing, "He seemed nice enough when giving me the tour?"
"That's because giving good first impressions is on his fancy managers contract."
When Mike went to ask more about the place Mr Diver returned and handed him some clothes, "Right then, now you get home and sleep. I'll see you here tonight at 11.30pm."
"Yes sir." Mike responded before leaving.
***
When Mike left the twins were left in the bustling kitchen. Charles turned to his brother with his hands clenched, "Chris. He looks barely twenty. What were you thinking?"
"He was the only candidate on such short notice, you know what the boss would do to me if I didn't find a night guard."
The two looked at each other solemnly thinking about the young man who didn't know what he was getting into. After all, no one had ever been in the position for longer than a week.
Not since before the murders.