Chapter Text
Whenever you thought things couldn’t get worse, life had a habit of proving you wrong. You lost your job earlier today. Were fired for some stupid, inane reason. You thought that was the worst thing that could happen to you today; you were wrong.
You came home to your partner, and the news did not go over well. The two of you already fought frequently, with some altercations even becoming physically violent. But you needed them, they had allowed you a place to stay and even helped you get this job to begin with.
Well, that was all over now. You didn’t have many belongings and most of them held memories of your now tattered relationship. So you hastily stuffed clothing, your phone charger, and other essentials into a backpack, the two of you still shouting as you did so. With a final word telling you never to come back, the door to your previously shared apartment was slammed in your face.
With no other choices, you turned and began walking away into the night. Up until now your face was red with anger but your eyes had miraculously stayed dry. Now that you were alone and distancing yourself from what was once home, you fell apart. Tears streamed down your face like a dam had burst. Your whole body shook with sobs. Fortunately, it was nearly midnight and there wasn’t a soul out to see your breakdown.
Unfortunately, night time caused more stress than it prevented. Your phone battery was dead; the model was old and hardly held a charge long enough to last the whole day. Your charger was in your bag but you needed somewhere with an outlet. You didn’t have many friends or family out here to call anyway, but you needed to find someone who could help out until you had somewhere more permanent to stay.
Another issue was that you didn’t have a car. You had always walked to a nearby bus station to get to work, but the buses would not run this late. It was nearly midnight. The apartment was located in what you joked was a ‘suburban oasis,’ in that it was a patch of mostly houses surrounded by empty, undeveloped land. Taking the roads into the city by car wouldn’t take long, but by foot it could take hours.
Without much choice, you walked, following the main road. You knew there were motels on the edges of the city several miles away. You didn’t have much money saved up, but certainly enough for at least a night. Then, in the morning you could make a plan for moving forward and maybe reach out to some contacts on your newly charged phone.
It was hard to know how much time had passed with you just walking steadily forward. The tears on your face had finally dried and left you with an empty, hollowed feeling. You tried not to think about the day's horrible events out of fear that you might start another sobbing fit, so instead you tried to keep your mind blank.
The night air was already brisk, forcing you to stuff your hands in your armpits for warmth. But it only got worse when the sky decided to cry as well. The rain started as a mere sprinkle, but rapidly became a downpour. Your body began to quake with shivers as every inch of your hair and clothes soaked up the frigid water.
Your hurried pace became nearly a run and you desperately searched in front of you for some sort of covered salvation. There were some trees scattered about, but their canopies were far too sparse to offer much relief.
And that’s when the road took a sharp turn and out from behind the tree line you saw your savor- a giant neon cartoon bear floating in the otherwise pitch black skyline. Well, not floating. It was a massive neon billboard boldly declaring ‘Turn here for Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex’.
Living nearby and taking this road to work meant you had passed by this billboard a thousand times. So many times that it had quickly blended into the familiar scenery outside the bus window and you hadn’t given it much thought in ages. You also had never been inside the place, feeling too old for such a kid oriented attraction. When you were really young you did have a few birthday parties at one of their old pizzareas, but to your knowledge the Mega Pizzaplex was an entirely different beast.
You recall babysitting your niece a few times and watching some of the new Fredbear cartoons with her. She was a big fan and would babble on endlessly about the main four characters all while tightly clutching a plush toy of her favorite, Roxanne Wolf. Aside from that, you knew next to nothing about the Freddy’s brand.
Regardless, this was the only building in sight and the nearest motel was still roughly an hour's walk away. There’s no way you could stand another hour in this horrible rain.
You take a detour from the main road and begin to follow the narrower roadway illuminated by the billboard overhead. It doesn’t take long before you find yourself overlooking a massive building, similar to a typical city shopping mall, all surrounded by an equally enormous parking lot.
The lot was completely empty. That should’ve been obvious given the time of night, but you were somewhat surprised not to even see one car belonging to a security guard or a night time janitor. That was to your advantage however, you didn’t feel like being arrested for trying to take shelter from the rain on private property.
You jog through the asphalt parking area and approach the front entrance. Unsurprisingly, it was closed. There are metal shutters closed shut in front of the glass, preventing you from seeing very far inside. Sticking as close to the building as possible to shield from the wind and rain you begin to circle the building’s perimeter.
The outside is mostly concrete, with few windows and fewer overhangs to keep you dry. And with the wind picking up you could not be sheltered below them. You do eventually come across a set of side doors; they are of course locked. Keep walking onto the far side of the building and there's a shuttered receiving door. Also locked. You sigh. What you thought was your savior might actually end up as a bust.
You hobble along the edge of the structure, shaking and sniffling with fingers and toes so numb you can barely flex them. Tears again threaten to fall from your eyes. Just when you think you’ve hit the absolute bottom, life decides its not done fucking with you yet. But before you can give up entirely, you spot something just a few yards from you.
There are two large green dumpsters situated against the dirty concrete wall. And a few feet above the farthest one is a metal grate. By the large square size it must be covering a vent or some sort of air duct that feeds into the building.
Now, normally you are not one to break and enter. And you’re certainly not someone who would ever crawl through some dusty dark metal death trap. But this is no normal circumstance. You are absolutely freezing. And you’re tired and upset and probably not in the most sound of mind.
So you pull yourself up onto the dumpster, crinkling your nose as your hand touches something sticky on the outside. The hard plastic lid dips slightly under your weight, but you do your best to stand close to the more supported edges. And by some luck, the bottom of the metal grate is at about shoulder height. Upon inspecting it you are quick to realize that it is screwed shut on each of the four corners. Well it should be, but the upper left corner seems to be missing its screw. That leaves three that you must remove somehow.
First, you hook your fingers in the gaps of the grate and give a hard tug. It obviously doesn’t budge. Next, you examine the screws closer. It's dark, and you wish you had your phone’s flashlight to help illuminate it for you, but there is a flickering sconce situated on the wall adjacent to you that gives off just enough light to see. The screwheads are flathead and they appear wide enough that a small, flat piece of metal might be able to turn them.
You then rummage through your backpack trying to find something that would fit the bill. If only you were the type to carry a swiss army knife with you. Fate, however, seems to throw you a bone as you check the side pocket and find your key to the apartment you just got kicked out of. It seems in your rush to get out you forgot to leave it and your partner forgot to ask for it back. It's useless for its intended purpose now but it is the perfect size and shape to rotate these annoying screws.
Your hands shake from the cold and fumble from the slippery rain, but eventually the two bottom corners come free. You can’t really reach the top screw but it turns out you won’t need to. With only one corner still attached to the wall it hangs and is easily pushed aside enough for you to fit. With the dark maw of the tunnel finally accessible, you use your elbows to pull yourself inside. It's not graceful, and you’re more winded than you’d like to admit, but it's a success. Finally, to hide your wrong doings you do your best to reposition the grate behind you so that it appears untampered with.
The relief from the constant wetness is immediate. But the cold is still present. Not to mention that while you have room to crawl and rollover, the vent is still small and uncomfortable. If you wish to feel any sort of comfort tonight you must try your luck deeper into the building.
What even is my life?! You can’t help but think to yourself at the absurdity of the situation.
With a deep breath, you position yourself on your hands and knees and begin to move forward into the darkness.
There is no light except for what little leaks in from behind you. You fumble forward blindly, feeling with your hands for a turn in the vent. Then another. You haven’t gone far but it already feels like a maze. There are no sounds except the dull thud of your knees and hands on the metal casing below you. The further from the entrance you get the warmer you feel, and that’s enough to keep you moving.
Finally after the third turn, you see horizontal lines of light reflected onto the side of the vent a few feet ahead of you. You approach hopefully and find another grate, this one looking inside of the Pizzaplex.
Peering in between the metal slats reveals… not much. The room is lit, but very dimly. There are shelves with various boxes and knick knacks and random workplace equipment strewn about the floor. You had expected to see bright colors, mostly tidey halls, and kid friendly decor. This must indicate that you are situated inside an air vent above some staff-only backroom and not where guests should normally see.
The room beyond you seems devoid of life, quiet, and most importantly- warm. Plus your knees are starting to feel sore from all this crawling on an unforgivingly hard surface. So you decide this is as good a place as any to get out of the duct. The grate is attached from the outside so you can’t attempt to unscrew it. First you try shoving at it with your arms, then your shoulder. No luck. Next you roll over and attempt to kick it open. Loud clanging fills the otherwise silent air with each kick, but the thing doesn’t seem to move an inch.
You feel the beginnings of panic creeping at your mind. You’re not claustrophobic exactly, but the thought of being trapped in this musky enclosed space for the whole night fills you with dread. You’re considering giving up to try further up into the vent when you hear a loud creak. At first you feel relief, thinking the grate must’ve finally given way. But your hope quickly turns to fear as the noise is followed by a lurch and the metal below you sinks an inch.
You freeze, but it's too late. There's another creak, another lurch, then the loud sound of steel scraping steel as the section of vent you’re sitting in separates itself and falls. The sound of your undignified screech is almost drowned out by the intensely loud bang and clatter of the duct colliding with the floor. The momentum throws you out onto the ground just before a steel support bar slams into the space you were only a second before.
Then it's silent. You cough once and roll over surveying the mess. It honestly doesn’t look so bad; the section hasn’t even completely detached from the wall and only one end is touching the floor. You pull yourself onto unsteady feet and check your body for damages. Your elbow hurts, it’ll probably bruise, but otherwise you’re uninjured. Honestly, the worst of it was the scare.
Shaking off your nerves you finally look around the room. The large space appears to be mostly for storage and you also spot the other side of the receiving door you had noticed from outside. Beside it is what appears to be some sort of control station. You approach it, wondering if maybe you could figure out how to open the shutter door from there. If so, it would make leaving a lot easier when you’re ready to later. Afterall, the vent doesn’t seem like such a viable option anymore.
The terminal is inactive, and you begin to look at the various buttons and switches to see if you can turn it on. It sort of looks like it might require a key card.
As you’re distracted you almost miss a strange, quiet scuttling noise. Confused, you still and strain your ears. There it is again, a little repetitive scuffing noise. And, is that music? Whatever the noise is, it's definitely coming from the vent. And it's getting louder.
Unsure, and a little freaked out, you back away from the terminal and crouch behind a shelf. You’re hidden from the direct line of sight from the opening of the broken duct frame, but you can see clearly enough from in between some shelved boxes.
As the noise increases in volume you can confirm there is indeed music, a twinkling tune sort of like a music box. Then, from the end touching the floor, something crawls out onto the ground.
Your eyes widen and you do a double take. You have no idea what exactly it is that you are looking at. It's a little robot you assume, based on the fact that it is made of shiny metal and plastic and that it's moving entirely on its own. It has six legs and two arms, a terribly creepy face with solid black eyes and full rows of teeth, and is small enough to maneuver easily through the cramped tunnel space. You are terrified.
To make it worse, another one appears at the other end, the opening still attached to the wall. Without hesitation, it turns and walks on the wall and onto the floor to stand beside its twin. Figures this creepy spider thing can walk on walls. The two start making strange robotic noises, gesturing to the broken metal in front of them as they do so. You have no idea what the noises mean but they seem to be talking to each other, and they’re clearly upset.
In the back of your mind you think back to those Fazbear Pizzeria visits you had when you were a kid. Vaguely you remember there being robots there, animatronics they were called. But they were big and clunky and friendly looking. They were nothing like the strange nightmare fuel in front of you now.
When you first came into the room, you figured you would probably find a desk chair or something padded to get comfortable on and stay there for the night. Possibly also with somewhere to plug in your phone. Then you could be out by morning, hopefully not appearing on any cameras, and no one would be the wiser. Minus the mess you made of the air vent.
But now, all thoughts of getting cozy in this room are dashed. You don’t know what those robots are or what they’re for, but if they spot you they could alert security. Or worse, they could attack you with their many spider-like appendages. You needed to get away.
While the two robot things seem distracted, you begin to slowly back away, extremely careful not to make a single sound. It's slow going and there is a lot of room to cover, but eventually your back presses against a door at the far end of the space. You’re sweating from nerves; from this angle you can’t even see them anymore but you can still hear their scuffling and the faint creepy music. Your hand meets the doorknob and you turn it little by little and push the door in. the hinges squeak and you wince. But, thankfully, nothing bad happens. You open the door just enough to slip through and don’t risk it any wider.
Your attention was so caught up in the little musical spiders that you didn’t even think to check the next room first. You turn around and freeze. It's a kitchen, a commercial one. Just as dimly lit and dingey as the last room. But at the end of the room is a figure with its back facing you. Not a human figure, however. Another animatronic. If you weren’t panicking again you might sigh from exasperation. Was this place going to be full of robots?
The thing is human-like in shape, with a white head, arms, and torso, except for the fact that it had wheels instead of legs. It does not appear to have noticed you, seemingly preoccupied with washing something in the sink in front of itself. Just a few feet away from it is the only other door in the room, hanging wide open.
You don’t know how sentient these robots are, or if they can even hear, but you can’t take any chances. You are technically breaking the law by even being here after hours, you cannot be seen.
Just as slowly and quietly as before, you make your way across the kitchen, eyes never leaving the bot. That may have been a mistake, as you’re about halfway there when your foot collides with a metal ladle on the floor that you hadn’t noticed. As soon as you hear the sharp skid of metal against the concrete floor you move, ducking quickly behind a counter and trying to be as still as possible.
You hear a mechanical whir, presumably the sound of the animatronic turning towards the sound. Your pulse quickens to a thudding pace and you clamp a hand around your mouth to hide your heavy panicked breathing. You wait a few agonizing moments; there are a few more whirs but they don’t get closer. After a minute, it sounds as if the robot has resumed its cleaning.
You wait longer just in case, before creeping your head out just enough to catch a glimpse of it. Sure enough, its back is facing you once again. You move once more, making your way out with just a little more care than before. Finally, you are in front of the open doorway. You’ll have to step out in the open, just meters from the bot, if you want to escape. Fortunately, you won’t have to fumble with the knob or potentially make noise again by opening it.
With one last glance to the robotic figure, you dash for the exit. Nothing happens, no alarms or angry robotic beeping so you must have gone unseen. You have entered another kitchen-like space, but this time it is empty. Your’e still quiet but you can continue moving forward faster than before. The next room is a hallway.
You have no idea where you’re going but you decide you’ll stop once you find somewhere secluded, comfortable, and bot free. Then maybe you could still catch a few hours of sleep. It's probably not safe to sleep here at all, but you’re utterly exhausted from the day's events. Not to mention you had done a full shift at work before they decided to fire you. Assholes.
You pass through a few more rooms and halls, spotting only one other humanoid robot that you easily avoid. One more door and suddenly you step out of the world of dreary, bare concrete and into a world of bright color and neon. This is clearly the actual Pizzaplex, where guests are meant to see. You’ve walked into an open space with fairly high ceilings, carpets straight out of an eighties bowling alley, and pictures of cartoon animals plastered on everything. You recognize the faces from your niece’s cartoons, Freddy, Monty, Chica, and Roxy.
The more welcoming atmosphere is certainly a relief, you feel less like a criminal slinking through back passages with something nefarious planned. Unfortunately, you were not safe yet. First off, this place just had to be littered with cameras. There was probably one watching you right now. Secondly, you could spot another default animatronic some ways away from you, diligently focused on mopping the floor. It hadn’t seen you, but this space was far too open to effectively hide. And if there was one of them, there were probably more. The longer you stayed in the open the greater your chances were of being spotted.
So, picking the direction opposite of the mopping robot, you stick to the walls and begin to speed walk. Having never been here before you have no clue where you’re going but you hope there will be signs or maybe even a map posted somewhere. And you look around as you walk, looking for somewhere cozy to hide out.
You spot a few concession stands built in the wall which don’t seem promising. Then there's some sort of gift shop that seems appealing at first with its number of comfy looking plushies. But upon inspection you decide it is far too open. As you make your way you see more and more of the same model robots. Some of them hold flashlights in their hands as they wheel back and forth as if on patrol. That’s not a good sign.
There are also various robotic wet floor signs scattered as you go. They look right at you, and at first you think you’re done for, but nothing seems to happen. They are seemingly not a threat, although you do worry they might have cameras in their eyes or something so you stay away as much as possible.
You’re contemplating the possibility of forgoing comfort and just hiding in a bathroom when a sound stops you.
Cling. Cling.
Is that the sound of a bell? It's subtle, but strange enough that you halt and look around. You don’t see anything that could be making that jingle. Maybe it was just a part of the cheery song playing over the loudspeakers? Maybe you’re just hearing things?
You begin to walk away when you hear the jingle again. Cling. Then again, closer. Cling. Cling.
You whip your head around feeling paranoid. What the hell is that? Another bell noise, even louder, and you freeze. It's directly above you. You look up. The ceiling is tall and much too dark for you to see clearly into the rafters. But what is clear are the two red dots above your head, perfectly spaced out like eyes.
There's a tense moment where you just stare. What is that?!
Then, there’s a laugh. A high, staticy laugh like straight out of a horror movie. Oh. Hell. No.
You turn and run like your life depends on it, fear and bewilderment filling you and making your veins feel like ice. The jingling follows you. And so does the laughter. You try to speed up but no matter how fast you move the noises don’t sound any farther from you. You have no idea what is chasing you, but it seems to enjoy it.
“It’s past your bedtime,” you hear the raspy voice hiss behind you. You have no idea what that means but you’re a little too preoccupied to care.
The hall you’re in turns at a ninety degree angle, and as you whip around it you chance a look at the thing following you. The figure is still shrouded in darkness, but it appears to be another humanoid animatronic, this time with a large round face and a creepy static smile. It is also quite obviously upside down, crawling on the ceiling on all four of its thin, gangly limbs. Something blue dangles from its head that looks suspiciously like a nightcap.
Upon making eye contact the metallic creature speeds up, “Naughty, naughty,” it growls at you but its mouth does not move.
You book it, mustering all ounces of your energy to push yourself faster. You can hardly comprehend what is happening, this can’t be real, this is something out of a nightmare.
At the end of the hall in front of you the floor dips where there are stairs leading downward. It gives you hope. If you reach them it could give you distance from the ceiling, maybe the thing can’t reach you from down there. You also see signs blur past pointed forward and labeled exit. Just a little further, if you make it you might be able to escape.
Your legs ache and your lungs are pushed to their limit. The stairway comes nearer, just one last stretch!
You barely register a small noise behind you, like that of a cord unraveling. And suddenly you are yanked upward. The instant change in trajectory takes the breath out of you. Something has grabbed the back of your hoodie and the collar starts to choke you as your feet leave the ground.
You kick and struggle, in full terrified prey mode now. A metal hand, much larger than yours, reaches downward and grabs your upper arm. The extra point of contact means you are, thankfully, no longer choking, but the grip is so tight you whimper in pain.
The hands turn you, and you are faced with your assailant. The animatronic is a lanky mix of blue and white and of metal and fabric. The face is split down the middle with a pale crescent moon, the other half darkened. It wears a dangling hat and puffy pants both dotted with yellow stars. Despite being completely creepy and maniacal, it is decidedly kid themed in appearance. With ruffles and bells, the thing reminds you of a medieval jester.
“Rulebreaker. The Mega Pizzaplex is closed. You must be punished.” Its glowing red eyes seem to shine even redder, the grips on your arm and hood get somehow tighter, and the head tilts sideways into a sharp, unnatural angle with an audible click.
You scream. And your struggling intensifies. The thing- the jester laughs shrilly again, as if there was anything funny about this. Its creepy smile never changes, frozen into the plastic faceplate, but its eyes seem to roam your face hungrily like you were a juicy piece of meat.
There is the sound of a cord winding again and you feel yourself rise further further into the air. The robot is lifting you up to the rafters.
You are beyond scared, beyond rational thought. You kick and twist and scream, it doesn’t budge. Finally, you wrench yourself back as far as you can while in its hold, and you kick upwards as hard as you can. Your foot collides with its faceplate with a resonating clang.
It's enough that the animatronic’s grip slips from you. It snarls, one hand leaving your arm to clutch at its own face instinctively. There is the briefest moment of satisfaction where you think you’re going to get away, before you remember that you’re nowhere near the ground.
You fall.
The large blue hands fumble for you, but the figure is still readjusting its face and it misses. The air rushes around you and you want to scream but you’re choking on your own shock. For a second you are dimly aware of the stairs rushing past you. Somewhere in your struggle the two of you must have hovered farther, past the second floor and out over the first.
The jester above is reaching out to you, and while its face is unmoving it somehow looks panicked. That's the last thought you have before you meet the ground. Everything instantly goes dark.