The Kick-Off (Part 1)

“My name is Jeremy Fitzgerald. I work the night shift at Freddy Fazbear’s. It probably sounds familiar to you, because it’s had… renovations…Um, a re-opening, I think.  It shut down, or something like that  a few years back. Well, not exactly, bec-”

A loud, obnoxious sigh.

“Please get to the point, Mister Fitzgerald.”

She exudes an aura of bitchiness.  Those glasses, jesus. Probably couldn’t see a problem staring her right in her stupid face.  The fingernails rattling on the table also don’t really help me  keep whatever patience I had when I agreed to this thing. Knick-knick-knick. Like a woodpecker. Whatever. She IS pulling a risky move by agreeing to publish this, but then again you don’t have too much to lose when you’re a tabloid journalist.

“Shit, let’s start again. Sorry, mind’s been a little shot to hell lately. “

She looked down at the silver metal device, and stopped banging the edge long enough to click,  and rewind the tape. Then to click play, and hopefully she keeps her hands on her lap this time.


“...Okay, we’re recording? Alright. My name’s Jeremy Fitzgerald, and I work at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza at night, first guy to work the night shift since it opened up actually. And the job’s why I’m here today. See, work conditions have been stressful…”


I punched in at 11:45. It was my first night on the job. I just sit down in the office and watch the whole place to make sure nobody burns down the place or steal something worth taking, like the robots. But here’s the thing. The robots are supposed to also enforce that authority.
They’ve got some program that recognizes criminal’s faces. Which must be really shitty because they’ve really wanted to investigate what’s going on in my office these past two nights.

Now, I’m a sociable guy. I don’t mind it if my roommate brings people over. But what I do mind is when those fuckers go in my room. And for the past two nights, these robots have done nothing but try to get into my office.  I was told that they’re always like this, which is weird because that’d be a pretty big safety hazard, right? Nope, they’re only like this at night, according to a couple of coworkers.

And here’s where things get weird. I was told to put on an animal hemet whenever they’re about to come into my office, and I did so the first time to humor the guy on the phone. This blue rabbit , he crawled out of one of the vents in my office and walked right up to my face. He stared right at me. He actually kind of craned his neck in a bit, as if he was gonna peck off my face or something.

And I heard him take a deep breath. You know, when wind rushes in at just the right moment, and you have that nice, relaxing inhale and exhale? I heard it. I swear to god, I could hear the rush of air out of the nostrils coming from that machine.

He shifted his staring away from me and over my shoulder, as if he was trying to remember something, and turned to crawl into the other vent…Yeah, Miss Batson, is it? I know that look, the look of skepticism. These things are capable of this, I swear. They’re walking around during the day too, actually. My co-worker said that they’re great with kids and adults during the day. Phin also clarified that they’re supposed to be inanimate at night, but you can see where I’m going with this story.

I was also told to keep winding a music box located next to a gift box, or the box’s occupant would leave for my office. Apparently, it was attracted to noise, and when the closest noise source stops, the next best thing to hear would be my air-conditioned office and the subtle buzzing of my camera device. That was bullshit, because I didn’t humor the man on the phone at all during my first night, until the rabbit came into my office and things got weird. I checked the camera systems to ensure that the occupant hadn’t gotten out, when I saw the box.

It somehow aged twenty years in the two minutes since I last checked it’s camera feed. It was dingy, and damp like cardboard in the rain. The difference between the gift box and the cardboard though, was the black substance dripping out from the lid of the box, which was slowly beginning to open up as my music box began to close to a finish. I was actually kinda paralyzed by what I saw going on here, because the lid opened up and hung over the sides without any visible assistance. The box was now drooped, and looked soggy from the amount of darkness dripping down it’s sides. As I wound the box up again, the stains began to fade and the box was back to it’s condition. It was like a time lapse but re-

“Jeremy, we don’t have all day. Get to the good stuff. The stuff they’ll eat up like candy. Like Phin.”

Right, we’re getting to Phin.