Frieda's Pizza Lounge & Nightclub: Chapter 1

        Mike was lucky enough to catch a magnetic trolley ride to his prospective workplace. He took a glance at his watch as he held onto the railing. The street lights and shops painted a luminary scene in the dark of the evening, the city lights shining like diamonds.


         11:25 read Mike's watch as the railcar slowly pulled up outside the eponymous lounge. It was extravagantly large, far more than the average night club.  An elaborate fountain out front streamed its beautiful displays, water illuminated hued with an array of colored LEDs. Above the entrance, the name "Frieda's" blinked slowly in ornate letters. Behind the title was the neon drawing of a cocktail with a toothpick piercing a slice of pizza.

He gandered at the sign, ruminating on how he’d never heard of the place, not even an advertisement. Yet the streets of parked cars and crowds of gawkers seemed to tell him that this place was the new talk of the town.

"Wow," said Michael to himself.

 As he crossed the threshold, though, his heart began to race... An unnerving sense of familiarity swept through his subconscious as if he’d been here before.  Hell, the shape of the building even felt disquietingly similar to that of the old pizzeria, although this venue looked like it had an exponentially larger budget and sense of class. The other place was shoddy and honestly pretty dingy for a family place.

He paused to shake himself back to reality. 'That part of your life is over.' He thought to himself, adjusting his collar nervously, 'That place is gone for good, shuttered bulldozed to the ground. The goddamn robots were scrapped and sold for parts.”

       Michael exhaled slowly, gripped the door handle, and opened the door. He was nearly bowled over by the pounding sound of swinging jazz music. After recovering from the sudden musical onslaught, he began to wonder just how popular this place was. Would he be able to land a job at such a big joint?

'Come on now Mike, it's a brand new day.' He straightened himself out and stood straight, putting on a confident expression. 'Let’s see if we can't seize it'.

He walked inside, letting the large door close behind him. He was so distracted by the cacophonous scene, he failed to notice a poster to his right, on the wall of the entrance-way. It was essentially a framed picture presenting the ‘stars’ of the night club. On it was a fox, a chicken, a rabbit, and finally…  a bear.
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    Ambient jazz music and chatter from patrons filled the air as Michael continued inside the establishment. Highly varnished wooden floors lay beneath lavish red carpeting, and the walls were made from finely chiseled  Italian marble, polished to perfection. Above him were chandeliers, carved out of a multitude of colorful quartz crystals with artisan skill. Around him were men dressed similarly to him, although a good bit more fancily, while the women garbed in stylish cocktail dresses and party apparel mingled with them, their faces painted with revelry.

"Excuse me, sir?" said a gentle, yet professional voice. Michael looked over to his left to see an auburn-haired receptionist behind the front desk. "Can I help you?" she continued.

Mike walked towards the lobby desk and made eye contact with the lovely woman behind the counter.

"Ah, hi, my name is Michael Schmidt," he said, taking his hat off while the receptionist adjusted her glasses, "I have an appointment for a job interview, at uh, eleven-thirty?"

"One moment please~," the receptionist said kindly, as she skimmed through her planner with her finger.

"Let us see here uh, ah yes! I have you right here for eleven-thirty. And you’re just in time." She spoke softly, with a disarming smile. "The manager is currently busy finishing up some business, would you care to meet our assistant manager in the main showroom while I tell the owner of your arrival?" the receptionist asked
.
Michael nodded. "Yes, thank you," Michael replied with a smile, "where is it?" he asked politely.

"Just go down the main hall down there and then go left or right," stated the woman as she leaned over and pointed. "Either way leads right to the showroom."

"Thank you, so very much," said Mike.

"My pleasure, and please enjoy your stay at the lounge!" The receptionist said smoothly.

     Mike placed his hat back on and started walking towards the main hallway, walking by a little fountain that had the miniature statue of a bear shooting water out of the little flower on its top hat.

Reaching the hall section, Mike came across a large portrait. The subject was that of an anthropomorphic chicken, with a clearly ‘feminine’ build; covering both of her womanly assets with. In what appeared to be a clear imitation of the birth of venus, standing on a seashell in front of a sunset on the ocean.


He took a minute to process the painting. Aside from it is a sight for sore eyes, specifical eyes in a red-blooded male’s skull, there was something about it that made him… remember. The chicken’s face felt familiar, it’s eyes and beak jarring some fractured connection in his brain.

Then suddenly, it hit him. Soulless, blackened, dead eyes flashed before his eyes, with white pin-pricked iris' staring into his very soul. He froze, his entire body stiffened with fear. The flashbacks to his old job suddenly rekindled themselves, and he began remembering in terrible detail the image of a mechanical chicken pressing itself against the window, slamming its red-stained hand against the glass and making it crack.

At that moment, he snapped back into reality, stepping back to rub his eyes. He looked back at the portrait. It was the same curvaceous chicken lady, NOT one of the animatronic nightmares that tormented him long ago. He shook his head and made a turn towards the left hall.

Walking down the hallway, he was given yet another display of how fancy this establishment was. Fine carpeting, laid upon a neatly tiled floor. Palm trees dotting the walls, each lit with special lighting fixtures that shined behind stained glass pizza slices. A huge contrast in comparison to his old workplace.


Further down, he noticed that there were rooms within the halls. Quickly glancing through the opened side doors, he saw people in lounge chairs sitting back with their drinks. The walls were decorated with framed movie posters featuring animatronic 'actors' from various movies. He never really knew how or why robotic animal people had become so popular. Almost overnight they’d become the biggest stars of Neo Hollywood.


    The past few years yielded big advancements in the field of robotics. With the discovery of the T&A alloy and advancements in neuro-AI-technology, robots were being made more and more lifelike, to the point of seeming almost human. This little realization filled Mike with a vague sense of unease.

   Nearing the end of the hallway, he was struck by a powerful feeling of Deja vu... Merely looking at the decor began to remind him of that particular place.

Only, of course, it was darker, more worn down... colder and foreboding. And the smell, oh lord the smell was something far more awful than anything you could imagine. He tried to shake off the feeling. Now was NOT the time for traumatic flashbacks. He needed to get his life back on track. And hopefully tonight, it would start here.

    When he entered the showroom, he was hit by an even grander display than he’d seen on the way here. There was decorated with a red and gold color-scheme, supported by the rich velvet carpeting all around. There were dozens of tables; booth, circular, and long. There was a bar as well, busy with its own set of customers.

The place was packed with people, the clientele running the gamut from average folks in casual attire to the very crust of society all in glittering dresses and perfectly cut tuxes. At least now, seeing how inclusive the place was, Michael didn't feel like such a sore thumb.

    This showroom was the source of the booming Jazz music from before, courtesy of the in-house band. On the floor, people dancing to the music being played by the in-house band. While many were dancing. Those that weren’t moving to the beat were either drinking or eating. The main dish appeared to be that old standby, pizza.

Another twinge of memory was immediately stamped down.

    Soon the band’s performance reaches its crescendo, and the following silence was immediately filled with thunderous applause. The next number was more mellow and laid back, setting the scene for those remaining on the dance floor to slow dance. Moving with speed and grace across the hall was an army of the wait staff, carrying platters of varied pizzas.

‘Boy, this ain't your average pizza joint, that's for sure.’

Something suddenly caught his eye. Among the many servers, a waitress was carrying a pizza platter in both hands. Or more accurately, both wings. She wore a rather suggestive outfit compared to the rest, a hybrid between an apron-dress and a skirt. But it wasn't how she dressed that had caught Michael's attention, but who, or -what-  the waitress was. As he tried to get a better view of her, she leaned up to smile at her patrons.

        She appeared to be a chicken.  A chicken that was very similar to the painting he had come across earlier. She was animatronic by the look of their joints, as well as the steel sheen of her neck. Once again his vision flashed with images of that cold, heartless machine, staring at him through the tablet. The unnerving wheezing sounds it made as it waited for him. Waiting to finally come in and-

No, no, NO! This couldn't be right. There was no way in hell that thing was the same machine, it just couldn’t!

Mike tried to steady himself by leaning on one of the guard rails dividing the seating sections. He rubbed his eyes again, trying his damndest to banish those thoughts from his mind.

"That can't be it. Those -things- are history, they have to be!" He muttered to himself.

Michael took off his hat to wipe away the thin layer of sweat developing on his brow, using it to fan himself while his mind whirled. The thought of those robots still being active chilled him to the bone. Rubbing his eyes, he straightened himself up and forced himself to relax, just as a pleasant voice piped up behind him.

"Excuse me, but are you, Michael Schmidt?"

Michael quickly turned around, snapping back into reality. A lady stood close by, Rubenesque if Mike had to use a single word to describe her. She wore black-rimmed glasses, each end embedded with a pair of gemstones, he couldn’t tell if they were real or imitation, had a rose corsage on the side of her auburn colored hair and dressed in a black pencil wiggle dress.

"Yes, yes I am," Michael replied with a cleared throat. The woman reached her hand out and shook Michael's firmly.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you in person Mr. Schmidt!" She said in a cheery voice, "Let me be the first to welcome you to Frieda's lounge." She adjusted the red bow affixed to her hair, cleared her throat, and continued. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Megan, I’m the assistant manager of the lounge." She stated in a more professional, yet still cheery, tone of voice.

"Well uh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Mike said courteously.

"Oh please, do call me Megan," he said.

 "Oh, sorry, Ms. Megan… uh. Well, let me just say, that you run quite a... remarkable place."  Michael said to her, trying to recover from his sudden spike of unease.

"Why thank you," she replied with a warm smile, "You see, when it comes to Joy and fun, we spare no expense here to ensure that -everyone- is having a good time." she said while waving her hand around the crowded showroom, "Making people happy is what we do."

"Waiter!" She boomed, "a round of your finest pizza!"

She walked towards one of the tables nearby and pulled up a seat, "Would you care to have a seat?". Michael nodded graciously and sat down. In mere moments, before Mike could even really get comfortable in his seat, one of the servers swooped in bearing platter laden with a classic sausage & cheese pizza. Mike was awestruck at the freshly prepared, steamy hot dish set before them. Not only did it look like the perfect -idea- of a pizza, it had arrived in what, one minute? They must have some kind of automation. That or she sent in the order ahead of time. Probably that one.

“Would you care for a bite?" Megan offered, taking a slice in her hand.

"Only if you’re ok with it," Mike replied as he took one as well.

 "Of course!" exclaimed Megan, "We’ll just take it out of your paycheck.” She said, laughing. “...That was a joke.”

Mike laughed nervously and dug in. This was possible, and sadly, one of the best meals he'd had in a long while. It had that feeling of home-made care like something from a small, family-owned restaurant, not something made en-masse from a huge nightclub kitchen. He took a sip of water from the table to wash it down, silently lamenting the flavor leaving his mouth.

"Ms. Megan, that was simply one of the best slices I've ever had," said Mike.

"I was hoping you’d enjoy it. Do tell it to the head hen of our kitchen." Megan said, forming a coy grin on her lips. "She loves hearing how much people love her dishes."

"Uh well-" The mention of “hen” was enough to fill Mike with a deep feeling of dread. He swallowed a lump in his throat along with his second bite of pizza.


"She’s one of four animatronic performers that we repurposed from a previous business here," Megan explained as she leaned back in her chair, having a slice herself.

Mike’s blood was beginning to chill again. Four robots. One of them a chicken. Pizza. That could only mean… The mere idea that this business had refurbished those mechanical hell spawns from the old place, the pizzeria was enough to set him back to reliving vivid, horrifying memories that he tried once more to suppress.

Her eyes caught Mike's hand slightly tremble while holding the glass. "Are you alright mister Schmidt?" She asked.

"Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” he said, shaking his head and forcing a smile, "So you were saying?"

"Right, we did a full background check on the old franchise, and needless to say," she leaned in close to the table, "their history was rather... colorful, to say the least."

"How colorful are we talking exactly?" he asked, trying to hide the edge in his voice.

"Now before we go into it, I'll have you know I worked at city hall as a records keeper," Megan said, her tone shifting to a more professional demeanor. "There are a lot of things I know about this city, especially the animatronic entertainment history. With that being said, I’m no stranger to Fazbear Entertainment..." Her expression changed, becoming decidedly more serious. ”I've seen the records myself, and I’d have sooner seen the business burn down than anything." she said, adjusting her glasses.

"I see," Mike replied, leaning against the table.


Suddenly, the showroom lights began to dim. The show was starting. A spotlight suddenly appeared on stage, where a gilded microphone stood.

"Ooh, we'll talk more later," she whispered, leaning back in the chair more comfortably while looking straight at the stage, "The shows about to start".

 -0-

White. Pinpricks.

       A feminine songstress slowly walked towards the front stage as a musical number began to play. She reached her hand, clad in a red opera glove, to the microphone as the spotlight illuminated her. The singer was animatronic; one Michael nearly didn't recognize. She was modeled after a bear, and her figure was sculpted into an hourglass that as easy on the eyes.  She wore a red cocktail dress which opened down the sides to show some leg. Wrapped around her upper-left thigh was a red bow-tie, and as Mike's gaze steadily moved upwards towards her face, he noticed a beauty mark on her right cheek.

        But the pleasing form soon gave ways to memories of another particular bear in his mind. He saw those pin-pricked eyes and white teeth grin at him through a tablet screen, and he heard the slow haunting child-like laughter. Michael shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to force his brain to recognize that the bear he was looking at on stage couldn't possibly be the one he knew. Still, he sat there with a look of disbelief, as she soon began to sing the lyrics of an Andrew Sisters classic.


"Of all the boys i've known and I've known some,
Until I first met you I was lonesome~
And when you came in sight, dear, my heart grew light,
And this old world seemed new to me~"


        As she sang, he could make two more sets out white pinpricks coming up from behind her, raising his anxiety further. In the corner of the spotlight’s beam, he saw a slightly lopsided bunny ear on the left, and a chicken leg on the right.


"You're pretty swell, I really have to admit you,
Deserve expressions that really fit you~
And so I've racked my brain hoping to explain,
All the things that you do to me~

         And with that, the curtains opened up, the lighting changing to reveal the whole stage and the in-house band behind them playing. Michael's jaw nearly dropped to the floor seeing the three animatronics in all their new glory. There they were, the bear, the chicken, and the rabbit. God only knows where the fox was. He didn't have time to conjure up memories of that lobe biting son of a bitch.

Still, though, he couldn't help but feel captivated, and terrified at the same time. For starters, the purple bunny animatronic was built more athletically, with a small waist and a fairly petite chest, but she had huge thighs and calves.

        Right next to the head songstress was none other than Chica, the very same chicken he saw in that portrait and caught a glimpse of not too long ago. Mike couldn't help but wonder if whoever had the job of redesigning her had an obsession with curves. Chica had been rounded out completely. Her stomach, breasts, and thighs had been packed with a healthy softness of flesh, coated by even softer looking feathers. Her 'bib' barely covered her chest, which would have filled his mind with suggestive thoughts if he wasn’t so freaked out. Rubbing his face once more, Mike took a deep drag of water to compose himself. Those -things- weren’t just back, they were completely remodeled.


        The fembots danced on stage elegantly, swaying their hips to the beat.  Bonnie twirled, earning a -strong- reaction from the audience. Their new, feminine bodies allowed them far more fluid, near life-like movement, even as their metallic robotic joints shined dazzlingly in the spotlight.

        As the performance neared its close, he could have sworn he saw them make a quick glimpse at him for a split second. Mike's heart nearly stopped, while the crowd cheered and the performers bowed. The ursine hostess blew a kiss to the audience members as Michael sat back in his chair. A mixture of fear, surprise, and dread encompassed his face while the patrons clapped and cheered around him. Megan was clapping as well, leaning closer to Mike and whispering into his ear,

"Not bad for a bunch of recycled animatronics, huh Mr. Schmidt?"