Chapter Text
Prologue
It was a warm and nice day as the Marshal and the generals of III Corps rested in the former’s carriage. They were fired from their jobs in Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza for various reasons, souls of dead kids were put to rest and their killer suffered a horrible death by one of his murder instruments.
All in all, a productive day.
“So, what are you guys gonna do when we return?” A black haired and scarred general, Oudinot, spoke up, scratching his cheek.
“Sleep.” An older general, Friant, replied promptly.
“We just had the most adrenaline inducing moment of our lives less than an hour ago. Are you really gonna sleep it off?” A young general, Morand, asked while raising an eyebrow.
Friant shrugged.
“It wore off.”
“I am amazed, Monsieur Friant, by your ability to relax in such a prompt manner.” Another general, Gudin, replied, playing with his brown hair absentmindedly.
“It scares me more than what we faced, man.” Morand muttered.
“Huh, and I thought some animals wanting to kill you for 7 nights would be more frightening.” The Marshal, Davout, looked over his glasses.
“Especially since they were possessed by dead kids.” The young aide, Trobriand, jumped in.
Morand shuddered.
“I’m trying to not think about it.”
“Understandable. And same here.” Davout nodded slightly.
“We put that chapter behind us, let’s focus on the future.” Oudinot suggested lightheartedly.
“Especially since the economy is still in the gutter and we are jobless.” Friant added.
“Yeah…” Davout rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I’d rather be in Auerstedt right now.”
“Not me.” Morand jumped in.
“Indeed.” Gudin shared his opinion.
“Suit yourselves.” Davout replied, nonchalant.
“Maybe we should get a ship and go on some privateering work.” Trobriand grinned. “I’ll make sailors out of you!”
“I thought you joined the army because you got sick of being defeated in the sea?” Oudinot asked.
Trobriand went silent for a moment.
“Eh, I’m sure you five would be better than the guys I served with, excluding my own blood of course.”
“I’m always willing to learn new things.” Gudin smiled.
“Nelson is gone, so perhaps we-“
Davout was cut off as a sudden horseman crashed into them while crossing an intersection, force of the impact sent Davout flying towards Oudinot, who sat in front of him.
“Ow ow ow, Davout you gained, ow, a lot of weight.” Oudinot checked his ribcage to make sure nothing was broken.
“…Shut up.” A flustered Davout mumbled.
Seeing that his comrade-in-arms were okay, Gudin jumped off the carriage to check the unfortunate fellow whom had the misfortune of being a victim of III Corps. The man was breathing, thankfully, despite the fall.
“My good sir, are you alright?” Gudin asked as he crouched down. The “man” in question was just a boy, younger than Trobriand even, with golden hair and soft features. He groaned slightly and opened his eyes, revealing light brown irises.
“Oh, I am well…” the boy replied, surprisingly not sarcastically, as he got up with Gudin’s help.
Friant and Trobriand left the carriage as well to check up on the situation.
“You still better see someone when you get the chance, kid. Horse falls are no joke.” Friant replied gently.
The boy nodded.
“Indeed, but first, I must deliver this letter to…” The boy stopped when he took a second to look at people around him. “…To you.”
Davout raised an eyebrow and joined the group. Morand, not wanting to be seen as some lazybone, got off the carriage as well.
Davout looked over at the young man they almost ran over. A regular Grande Armée uniform, equipment… Aside from being a bit taller than Friant, there was nothing out of the ordinary.
“Who sent you?” Davout questioned, crossing his arms.
“The Emperor.” The golden haired boy replied.
Trobriand whistled. “Oh wow.”
“Bonaparte?” Oudinot’s small eyes widened.
“No, Charlemagne.” Morand rolled his eyes.
“With how weird this week was I wouldn’t be surprised if he got out of the grave as well.” Friant muttered.
“Give it here.” Davout opened his hand and just a moment later he got his letter. Adjusting his glasses, he began to silently read. In less than 15 seconds, the letter found itself in Davout’s pocket.
“What is it, Monsieur le Maréchal?” Gudin inquired.
Davout shrugged.
“He wants to see us.”
“What for?” Trobriand asked further.
“Didn’t say anything. Just that it was ‘important’.”
“Well, it’s not like we can disobey his orders, so…” Morand drifted off as he gestured towards the carriage.
“Yeah, let’s go.” Oudinot replied.
The messenger nodded and got back on his horse, which was munching on some grass contently.
“Like I said, get a doctor.” Friant called out to the boy.
“Thank you, I will.”
As Davout was about to get on, he looked back at the kid. He reached into a pocket in his coat and tossed a small bag.
“Here, as reparation.”
“…Marshal, I cannot-“
“Yes, you can.” Davout waved him off, getting back in his seat.
The golden haired soldier looked at the bag and the men. Slightly lowering his head, he rode off into the distance.
“Hope it wasn’t your last bit of money.” Morand said, putting his hands behind his head as he relaxed.
“It was.”
There was an awkward silence.
“Well, since the Emperor asked for us, we’re likely going on an adventure that will have financial gains!” Trobriand cheered up.
“Let’s hope it’s not a job like the last one.” Oudinot replied.
The group headed to the outskirts of Paris, as Napoleon decided to show his “solidarity” with the common people by living in a simple tent, away from the luxuries that his subjects lacked in these challenging times.
“The Emperor’s humility is very inspiring. I’m sure our citizens are touched that he sees what they are going through.” Gudin said in awe.
“It’s a nice publicity stunt, that’s for certain.” Morand snorted.
“I would say it’s an upgrade for him, he’s more used to sleeping in the army conditions rather than whatever they got in those marble palaces of his.” Friant looked around the camp “palace” of the French Emperor.
“So long as the people see him as you do, he’ll remain on the throne for decades.” Davout smirked slightly.
Soldiers stationed around the camp gave respectful nods and whispered to each other as they saw heroes of Auerstedt and Oudinot wander around. They approached a soldier, tall enough to be an Old Guard, who was fixing a cut in his boot.
“Looking for the Corsican?” He asked without looking up at them. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Just head north then turn right, he got all these diplomat looking fellows around, can’t miss him.”
“Thank you, my Grognard!” Trobriand bowed. The Old Guard grumbled something in return.
Heeding the soldier’s instructions, the group moved on to Napoleon’s tent. And just like he said, there were several well-dressed individuals waiting, all with rather stressed expressions. A man exited from the tent and as another one of these men tried to enter, Davout grabbed him and pushed him aside, getting some what he presumed to be curses in the man’s native language.
Napoleon sat in a simple wooden chair, with a simple wooden table beside him. Only fancy things inside the tent were The French Emperor and-
“No, I will absolutely not sell my coat! It’s made from silks that were brought from China!”
A tired sigh came out of Napoleon’s mouth.
“The treasury requires funds, Murat. Would you like to see our people suffering?”
“They should get a job if they are suffering!” Murat huffed. Seeing Davout and his entourage enter, he looked at them with begging eyes. “III Corps fellows, speak sense to my brother-in-law!”
Without sparing a glance at Murat, Davout spoke up.
“You asked for us, sire?”
The Emperor smiled slightly.
“Ah, Davout… Yes, we have much to discuss.”
Davout tilted his head slightly.
“About what, sire?”
“Your jobs, assuming you got one.” Napoleon relaxed, folding his hand in front of him.
“You weren’t writing reports, Davout?” Morand asked though without hostility.
“…No, as I assumed getting the money would be the primary concern for the Empire. And since our job was… Not exactly what is expected of us, I thought it would be better if it weren’t in records.” Davout explained.
“Considering what we faced, it was the right call.” Trobriand thought to himself.
“I see.” Napoleon nodded. “You can tell me what happened now, then. It’d be off records.”
Group remained quiet for a moment. Davout coughed.
“We found a job where we played the role of sentries. There was some… Trouble. But nothing we couldn’t handle.” Iron Marshal told the Emperor of the French.
“Hm. Go on.”
“Unfortunately, our employers found us lacking in some areas and to protect ourselves, we broke some rules. So, a few hours ago, we got fired.”
“Oh.” Napoleon looked up at the younger man with sympathetic eyes, with a hint of suspicion as well. “That’s a shame. Do you have any plans?”
“As of right now, no. But you can be sure that we will come up with something.” Gudin joined in, trusting his close relation with Napoleon would ease the situation.
“My old man was a candlemaker. We could do something similar.” Friant added.
“But your methods would be a thousand year old!” Oudinot joked.
“Would have been useful this week.” Morand muttered.
“Give us a ship and we will become your first Naval Corps!” Trobriand said excitedly.
Napoleon chuckled.
“Alright, settle down. You made some interesting suggestions.” He played with his earlobe. “But luckily, another reason why I called you here is that I found a job for you.”
Davout stayed still as his Emperor got something out of his pocket. A paper. He handed it to Davout. Davout’s men huddled together as they inspected its contents. It was…
“Geh!?” Morand let out a strangled gasp.
“No way. Ain’t no way.” Oudinot held his head with hands.
Even Friant was shocked, evidently by his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.
Gudin played with his collar as he read what was written.
"HELP WANTED
Grand Re-Opening!!!
Vintage pizzeria given new life!
Come be a part of the new face of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza!
What could go wrong?"
And beside the text was the images of a bear, bunny and a chicken. Like their old foes but also new…
“This…” Davout strained.
“What’s wrong?” Napoleon asked innocently.
“I- We-“ Davout spoke up, words failing to come out. He looked at his friends.
“This is an unexpected offer.” Gudin jumped in.
“Seems like it. Still, a job is a job, right?” The Corsican shrugged.
Trobriand swallowed. Should he tell what happened? He looked at the paper again. ‘Grand Re-Opening’. He didn’t remember anything indicated that the accursed company was building a new place. They were going in the opposite direction, in fact. And these new characters…
“This is a most generous offer.” The aide said. “We should investigate this more.” He continued, staring into men of his Corps in their eyes. Davout caught on.
“Indeed.”
Morand shook slightly.
“Excellent!” Napoleon clapped. “I know you will do well.”
Morand bit his lip. He wanted to object. But if there were more of these creatures, he and his group had to solve what was going on. It was his duty as a previous lawyer. He congratulated himself on his reasoning.
“Was there anything else?” Davout gripped his spectacles.
“I don’t think so. Unless you have something to share?”
The group stayed silent.
“That’s it then. You can go now, you have a long day and night ahead.” Napoleon said, gesturing towards the exit.
With some quiet ‘sire’s and quick bows, III Corps left the tent, leaving the French Emperor with his brother-in-law.
“They just ignored me...” The long haired mumbled in horror.
“Back to our business at hand, Joachim. Your coat?”
“Never!” Murat gritted his teeth.
Napoleon let out an exaspareted sigh, running his hands over his face. What to do? What to do?
Well, that could work.
“How about this? You can keep your coat.”
Murat instantly perked up.
“Yes?”
“In return, I have a job for you as well.”
He was on stage. No food, no music, no children. Just him, Bonnie, Chica and darkness. He looked around. Chica was staring into distance. She didn’t seem awake. He looked into other direction. Bonnie was asleep as well.
He could hear laughter, cheering, sounds of that day. They overwhelmed him. The static began to take hold of him.
err
Trobriand gasped as he opened his eyes. Sweat poured from his brow.
“Trobriand, you okay?” He heard the voice of his Marshal.
“Yes, I just…” Since he had already told his visions last time, lying about what he saw would be stupid and uncreative.
“…I had another dream.”
Friant looked at him, his eyes kind.
“Again? I swear you are haunted, Jacques.” He spoke quietly. Trobriand chuckled slightly.
“What was it?” Oudinot leaned forward.
“I was… Freddy.” Trobriand replied.
“Huh?” Morand gazed at the young man.
“It was like I was stuffed in him and I was seeing through his eyes.” Trobriand explained, his voice low.
“Was there more?” Gudin inquired.
“No, that’s it.”
Davout thought about Trobriand’s words. He shrugged.
“Well, you were picked by whatever force that haunts the place. It might not reveal much now, but if it turns generous, tell us.”
“Of course, Monsieur le Maréchal.” Trobriand agreed.
“We arrived.” Friant announced.
“May God have mercy on us.” Morand replied in turn.
“A bit dramatic, Morand?” Davout asked his friend.
“Shut up, four-eyes.”
Compared to the last one, this new building looked far more impressive: More lively colors, cleaner surroundings and it didn’t look like it could collapse if somebody sneezed. Then again, it was a ‘Grand Re-Opening’, after all.
“The thought of eating here almost crosses my mind.” Oudinot said to no one in particular.
“No thanks.” Friant scoffed.
Gudin opened the doors to the Pizzeria.
“I’m so used to the other place that I had a whiplash.” Oudinot mumbled.
“Where’s the office?” Davout looked around.
Trobriand looked around. The three main animatronics were easily seen near the entrance, in a big stage to the right, staring to the distance and hopefully not at the newcomers. Turning left, he saw a counter and shelves filled with plushes and a large gift box. He could hear a calming music as well.
He gulped.
“Let’s move forward, office is likely away from them all.” The aide offered.
With Trobriand’s advice, they headed deeper into the Pizzeria. Now in a corridor, they saw a half open door labeled “Parts and Services”.
“I don’t believe that’s our office.” Gudin said.
“But it will be the place where they will tear us a new one if they get their hands on us.” Morand huffed.
“If.” Davout replied laconically.
Morand rolled his eyes.
“You know that the guys who said ‘if’ were wiped out shortly afterwards, right?”
“We are better than them.” The Marshal answered, a smirk on his face.
“That’s true.” The younger general replied after a moment.
“I found the place!” Friant called out.
Following the older man’s voice, they stared down at another wide and long corridor. At the end of it, they saw a big room with a warm light in it. They could also several things lined up on a desk.
Entering the office, III Corps quickly familiarized themselves in their new ‘headquarters’. It definitely looked comfier, thanks to the light and wider space. Sound of the fan was also a bit quieter. There was a poster of the animal trio and drawings made by children on the left and right sides of the walls, respectively.
The lack of any doors made this office worse than the other one, however.
“We got this entrance that would let a division enter-“ Morand looked around and saw two vents on either side. “Along with these little scumbags. And no way to protect ourselves.” He ranted.
“Calm down Morand, there is always a way to survive.” Gudin smiled.
“I’d say those heads lined up here are here for that reason but hell if I know.” Oudinot said.
“And look, six cameras. Again.” Davout grabbed one of them and looked at it. “And they don’t work unless we all use it. Again.”
“Same shit, different day.” Friant muttered.
“In essence, yeah.” Morand replied. “Y’know what would be surprising? That voice guy returning.”
Gudin bowed his head solemnly.
“He is gone, but he is watching and praying for us in the afterlife.”
“Okay, Gudin.” Morand replied, too tired to argue.
“What’s the hour?” Trobriand remembered suddenly.
“It’s… 11:58PM.” Friant said, looking at a big black box near the entrance.
“Oh hell, we don’t have much time.” Oudinot realized.
“Let’s use our previous positions, it worked out alright in the end and I don’t see any reason to change it.” Davout ordered.
“That means Morand is on far left, me between him and Gudin, you in the center, with Oudinot and Friant protecting our right, am I correct, Monsieur le Maréchal?” Trobriand asked.
“I don’t know what you just said but it sounds right.” Davout replied in turn.
With more chairs, the group all sat down this time, huddled together near the desk.
“Feels nostalgic.” Trobriand mumbled.
12AM
“Let’s do th-“ Davout began before he was cut off by a sound they had gotten used to pretty quickly.
RING RING