Chapter Text
Fiddleford had never seen it as a simple hobby; he believed robots were the future, plain and simple, but proper funding never came his way. His ideas and ambitions, bold and ahead of their time, seemed unrealistic to investors and scared potential sponsors off. Fiddleford was thinking too far ahead, and even with working prototypes on hand, he still struggled to draw people into his project.
Quitting, though, was never an option. So when an offer came in to design animatronic robots for a children’s entertainment place, how could Fiddleford say no? Of course he couldn’t. He was a father himself and had seen how much his son loved his small projects, and that became the main reason he agreed. He accepted right away, but before long ran into a problem – designing, building, and testing everything alone was hard, and the deadlines were breathing down his neck. After giving it little thought, McGucket reached out to an old friend from college.
Stanford Pines, a man of incredible intellect and talent, gladly agreed to join the development and rushed from Oregon to California the very next day.
Sleepless nights filled with hard work finally paid off. With eyes red from exhaustion but burning with excitement, Fiddleford and Stanford presented two animatronics – a golden anthropomorphic rabbit and bear, named Bonnie and Freddy while they were still being assembled. Their outer shells were made of a pleasant material, their movement driven by a mechanical skeleton, but the heart of the system was speech and image recognition. With speakers hidden beneath their masks, they could sing and had a set of phrases to interact with children.
Success was guaranteed. From the very first day, Fredbear’s Family Diner flourished.
Children loved the animatronics. Children trusted the animatronics. But children didn’t know what was under the masks.
Or who.
Accidents are a part of any children’s attraction, and the animatronics were no exception. Who could have known kids could be that foolish? One boy stuck his head into Freddy’s mouth, and the mechanism, never meant for that, snapped shut, crushing the child’s skull. In court, no charges were brought against the pizzeria – the injured child had clearly broken safety rules, and his parents failed to supervise him. But the bloodstain on the reputation remained.
Some time later, things changed again. A series of children going missing near the building sparked rumors and fear. People began avoiding the place, afraid to step inside. The police closed the case quickly due to lack of evidence, but a decision was made to completely replace the pizzeria staff – except for Fiddleford and Stanford – to prevent further incidents or gossip. The animatronics were also replaced with newer models.
By then, four new robots were ready – Freddy and Bonnie in different colors, along with Chica and Foxy. The place was renamed Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The dark past faded away, and for the next seven years, children’s laughter once again filled the walls.
And then, the place shut down for good.
Props and decorations were supposed to be moved to other pizzerias and amusement parks a few months later, but until then, the building needed supervision. At least, that’s how Stanford saw it. So when he found out his brother had lost his job after a conflict with his boss, he offered him a temporary position as a night guard at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.
Nothing complicated – midnight to six a.m., five days a week, and decent pay. Just sit in the security office, watch the cameras, and that’s it. With no better options, Stanley agreed.
Before his shift, Stanley made a round through the building and stopped by the stage where the animatronics stood. In the dim lighting, they looked damn creepy, and their glassy, empty eyes only made it worse. Or maybe, knowing the history of the place, he was just getting into his own head.
“Jesus, what a dump,” Stanley muttered, a chill running down his spine. He shrugged, trying to shake the feeling off. “These things are freakin’ nightmares. What kinda kid would even like this?”
This place was meant to entertain children. There should’ve been the sound of little feet, bright laughter, and cheerful music, with the smell of pizza, soda, and plastic hanging in the air – but there was none of that. Only heavy silence and emptiness, pressing down on Stanley, feeling wrong.
He already regretted taking the job. Every instinct screamed at him to get out as fast as possible, but it was too late – he was here, his shift was about to start, and the exit key was back in the security room. Nothing he could do now.
Stanley returned to his post. He checked all the cameras on the tablet, tested the side doors of the office – why the hell were they even there? And why did they close so fast? Twenty minutes past midnight, the landline phone rang.
“Yellow? Uh, yellow? Well, if you're hearing this, then chances are you've made a very poor career choice…”
Cute. Stanley hit the hang-up button, but the voice kept playing from the receiver, irritating and unsettling. Just a recorded message with instructions on handling the animatronics – real helpful, yeah. He leaned back, propped his feet on the desk, and rubbed his face. The silence, broken only by the hum of ventilation, was almost enough to give him a headache, but it was still better than that annoying chatter on tape.
When the voice finally stopped and the phone clicked and crackled, Stanley let out a relieved breath. The night was going to be long and boring…
He opened the tablet again. Kitchen. Backstage. Stage with the animatronics staring into the camera. Dining area… Wait. What?
Stanley blinked and switched back to the dining room feed. Maybe the static from the cheap equipment had messed with his eyes. But no – their heads really were turned. The tablet nearly slipped from his sweaty hands.
The animatronics couldn’t move. They were unplugged, right?
The image suddenly worsened, dissolving into static, then quickly returned to normal.
And one of the animatronics – that damn purple rabbit with a guitar – was gone from the stage.