Chapter Text
The afternoon had settled into one of those rare stretches of quiet that felt almost unnatural within the Diagnostic Medicine department. Princeton-Plainsboro was still bustling beyond the glass walls of the conference room, nurses rushing between stations, doctors debating treatment plans, and patients creating entirely new categories of medical disasters. Yet House's team had somehow found themselves with nothing urgent to solve.
No mysterious illnesses. No impossible diagnoses. No dying patient whose symptoms contradicted every known law of medicine. The unusual calm had left everyone drifting toward boredom, and boredom was often far more dangerous than disease.
Chase had been the first victim of it. Leaning back in his chair with his feet propped against the edge of the conference table despite years of hospital policy insisting otherwise, he lazily scrolled through his phone while half-listening to the muted television mounted on the wall.
Cameron sat nearby reviewing patient charts with a kind of dedication that made everyone else feel slightly guilty. Foreman was attempting to finish paperwork while pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation.
House occupied his usual spot at the head of the table, spinning his cane with one hand while glaring suspiciously at a patient file as though the stack of papers had personally insulted his intelligence.
The silence persisted for several minutes before Chase finally looked up from his screen. “Apparently they’re making another remake.”
Foreman didn’t even glance up. “Of what?” “Some horror game.” “That narrows it down to only a few thousand possibilities.” Chase grinned.
“Five Nights at Freddy’s.” The cane stopped spinning. It was such a small movement that none of them noticed it. None of them noticed the sudden stillness that overtook House’s posture or the way his gaze momentarily lost focus.
To everyone else, it was merely another random topic of conversation. To House, however, the words hit with the force of a freight train.
Five Nights at Freddy’s. The Pizzaplex. Freddy. For a fraction of a second, the conference room disappeared. The fluorescent lights above him were replaced by colorful neon signs stretching across impossible heights. The sterile scent of disinfectant vanished beneath the smell of pizza, machine oil, and electrical wiring.
He remembered running through endless corridors while alarms blared overhead. He remembered hiding beneath tables while mechanical footsteps echoed through empty hallways.
Most of all, he remembered a towering animatronic bear crouching beside him and speaking with a voice that somehow managed to sound more reassuring than most humans he had ever met. “Don’t worry, Superstar. We will find another way.”
The memory surfaced so vividly that House could practically hear it. Then, just as quickly, it vanished. Reality snapped back into place.
Chase continued talking completely unaware of the storm unfolding inside House’s head. “You know, the one with the giant bear and the kid trapped in the mall overnight.” “My cousin played that one,” Cameron said while looking up from her charts. “Security Breach, right?” “Yeah.” “The bear was actually kind of nice.”
House felt something tighten in his chest. Nice. That was one word for it. Freddy Fazbear had protected him when nobody else could. He had risked everything repeatedly despite malfunctioning systems, corrupted programming, and impossible odds.
There had been moments when House trusted Freddy more than he trusted most people he’d met during his entire medical career. The realization disturbed him far more than he cared to admit.
“House?” He blinked. Three pairs of eyes stared back at him. Apparently he’d been silent long enough for everyone to notice. “What?” he asked flatly. Chase smirked. “You know the game?” “I know enough.” Foreman rolled his eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
“No.” The response came immediately. Everyone paused. Foreman frowned. “No?” House leaned back in his chair. “No.” Chase laughed. “You serious?”
“Unfortunately.” “You actually believe killer robots are running around a pizza mall somewhere?” House shrugged. “I believe a lot of things.” “Such as?” “Such as all of you are idiots.” The team laughed. House didn’t.
That should have been the first warning sign. Unfortunately, nobody recognized it.
Three days later, the call arrived. At first, nobody considered it important. Emergency dispatchers received strange calls every day. Most were mistakes. Some were pranks. Others came from individuals experiencing mental health crises.
By the time the recording reached Princeton-Plainsboro, it had already passed through several layers of people who had dismissed it as nonsense. The audio crackled through the conference room speakers while House’s team listened with varying degrees of annoyance. Heavy breathing filled the room. Then came a voice. Young. Terrified. Desperate. “Please… please help me.” The caller sounded as though they were running. Something metallic crashed somewhere in the background.
The noise was loud enough to make Cameron flinch. The voice continued. “They’re awake.” A sharp burst of static interrupted the recording. Then more crashing. Heavy footsteps. Not human footsteps. Metal. Mechanical. The caller sounded close to panic now. “If anyone gets this, send help. Please.” Something roared in the distance. The sound didn’t resemble an animal. Nor did it sound human. The screaming started immediately afterward. The recording ended. Silence settled across the room.
Foreman was the first to speak. “Prank call.” “Definitely,” Chase agreed. Cameron nodded. “Some teenager roleplaying.” Foreman flipped through the attached report. Then paused. His eyebrows rose. “What?” Foreman looked up. “The caller gave a location.” “And?” Foreman sighed. “The Freddy Fazbear Mega Pizzaplex.” Chase immediately burst out laughing. Cameron wasn’t far behind. Even Foreman looked amused. Only House remained perfectly still. Then he stood. Every trace of humor vanished from the room. Something had changed. House wasn’t joking. He wasn’t mocking them. He wasn’t being sarcastic. For perhaps the first time in months, he looked genuinely serious. “Get the ambulance.”
The room froze. Foreman stared. “What?” “You heard me.” “House, it’s obviously fake.” “No.” “House—” “No.” The force behind the single word silenced everyone instantly. House grabbed his cane. His pulse was already accelerating.
The Pizzaplex. The actual Pizzaplex. After all these years. A location he hadn’t seen since childhood. A place he had spent decades convincing himself was impossible. Yet somehow he knew. The moment he heard the recording, he knew. The caller wasn’t lying. Because he recognized the sounds. The footsteps. The voices. The fear. He recognized every single part of it. “House,” Cameron said carefully, “you can’t seriously think this is real.” House looked directly at her. “I know exactly where that call came from.” The sentence escaped before he could stop it. The room fell silent. Foreman’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly where it came from?” House immediately corrected himself. “I mean the location fits.” “No, it doesn’t.” “Yes, it does.” “Because?” House stared at him. “Because I said so.” The explanation satisfied absolutely nobody.
The drive began less than thirty minutes later. The hospital administration refused to send emergency services. The police dismissed the report. Security threatened disciplinary action. House ignored every single one of them. When Wilson refused to surrender his car keys, House solved the problem the way House solved most problems: by committing minor crimes. The theft itself took less than thirty seconds. Foreman spent the entire process alternating between outrage and disbelief while Chase seemed more entertained than concerned. House, meanwhile, remained focused entirely on the road. What disturbed them wasn’t the fact that he knew where they were going. It was how well he knew. The route required no GPS. No directions. No hesitation. Every turn came naturally. Every highway exit. Every side road. Every shortcut. It was as though he had traveled there hundreds of times before.
Foreman noticed first. Then Cameron. Then Chase. By the halfway point of the journey, all three had stopped talking. The realization hung heavily inside the vehicle. House shouldn’t know where the Pizzaplex was. Nobody should. The location wasn’t listed publicly. Yet House drove toward it with the confidence of someone returning home. The sun slowly descended toward the horizon. Orange skies darkened into crimson. Crimson faded into violet. Night approached. House tightened his grip around the steering wheel. His stomach twisted. Because he remembered what happened at night. He remembered exactly what happened. And he knew they were running out of time.
The Pizzaplex emerged from the darkness like a monument from another world. Even from a distance, its massive neon signs illuminated the surrounding landscape. Bright colors danced across enormous walls covered with familiar mascots. Towering structures stretched into the sky while holographic advertisements flickered across gigantic screens. The team stared. Nobody spoke. Nobody could. Because it existed. Every detail matched. Every structure. Every sign. Every design. Everything. The fictional building they had laughed about only days earlier stood directly before them. Real. Impossible. Yet undeniably real.
House parked. The clock on the dashboard changed. 6:00 PM. His heart sank. “No.” The word escaped involuntarily. Before anyone could question him, he was already moving. Already climbing out. Already limping toward the entrance faster than any of them had ever seen him move. The others hurried after him. The massive front doors slid open automatically. Silence greeted them.
The lobby appeared abandoned. Dark. Empty. Wrong. House knew this feeling. He remembered this exact moment. The calm before everything went wrong. The instant before the hunt began. The moment when daylight surrendered to darkness. The moment the animatronics woke up. The second the entire building trapped its occupants inside.
The team crossed the threshold. The doors slammed shut behind them. The sound echoed throughout the massive structure like a gunshot. Metallic locks engaged simultaneously. Every exit sealed. Every escape route vanished. The lights flickered. Then transformed. Bright neon colors flooded the darkness. Music crackled to life overhead.
A cheerful tune echoed through empty hallways. The same tune House remembered hearing years ago. A voice suddenly filled the building. “Welcome to the Mega Pizzaplex.” The announcement sounded cheerful. Friendly. Normal. Yet House felt ice spread through his veins. Because hidden beneath the automated greeting was something else. A voice. A familiar voice. One he had not heard in decades. One that should not still exist.
One that had once protected a frightened child throughout the longest night of his life. House slowly looked upward toward the shadows of the upper balcony. Mechanical eyes opened. One pair. Then another. Then another. Watching. Observing. Recognizing. And for the first time since entering the building, House experienced something he almost never felt. Fear. Because the animatronics were staring directly at him. And somehow... they seemed to know exactly who he was.