Sideshow

Written as a request for the Five Nights at Freddy's General Discussion Thread at /vg/. Special thanks to Systemeth and Weaver for proofreading and editing.

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"Thank you all for coming out to see us today! I'm glad everyone's having a good time at Circus Baby's Pizza World! The lovely Ballora will be starting her show any minute now, so please, return to your seats," Circus Baby coos from her spot atop the bright stage.

Swarms of laughing, screaming kids run back and forth at the birthday party, waving balloons and toys around as Funtime Foxy attempts to herd them like cats towards the rows of chairs. So far, his attempts appear to be mostly unsuccessful. No surprises there.

"Can't stand that bitch."

"Baby or Foxy?" I ask without looking up from my cards.

"Circus Baby," Bidybab replies.

"YOU hate Circus Baby," I echo incredulously, taking a drag off of the AAA battery in my mouth. Duracell, 1984. Nice vintage. Voltage is a little low, sure, but the flavor can't be beat. "You MUST be joking -- you guys've got it made compared to me, Bidybab. Shit, I'll gladly trade you for my dumbass partner."

"Hahaha, HELL no, Bon-Bon," Bidybab says with a grin, splashing the pot. "I can't stand your 'better half' either. Raise."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Clicking my plastic tongue in disgust, I peel a few chips off to match his bet. Not really feelin' the hand here, but whatever. Not like we're playing for real stakes. "Hell, man, if I gotta listen to that dumpy chucklefuck rattle off his top five favorite birthday cake flavors one more time, I'm gonna scoop my brains out. I'm like, 'come on, Freddy, blue isn't a flavor'."

"Ugh, I know. Circus Baby does the same shit. Always upselling that ice cream at every party we go to, but man, she doesn't ever deliver."

I try to raise an eyebrow only to remember I don't actually have any. "You can't even eat ice cream. Why do you care?"

"Doesn't matter. I just wanna see how it's made," he grins mischievously. "Maybe then the dumb bitch'll finally be good for something."

"Oh, you sick puppy. You've been to waaaaayyy too many pre-teen parties," I groan, suddenly taking his meaning and wishing I didn't. "Look, I've seen her blueprints. It's behind the fan in her belly."

Bidybab plucks another battery from our pack and pokes it into his mouth in irritation. "Well, thanks for ruining the magic for me."

"Gotta grow up sometime, you little gremlin," I snort. "Minireena, you're up."

Eyeing his cards, the one remaining member of Ballora's backup troupe that didn't heed the call for showtime (not that Ballora's smart enough to notice -- all padding, no processor, that one) taps the table.

"Rrrreeeeee?"

"For the last time, checking isn't the same as calling," I sigh. He lays both of his cards down and kicks a few chips into the pile with an apologetic nod. "That's fine, you're trying, just -- whoop, incoming fatass. Cover me, I'm gonna bail for a sec."

Freddy wanders past our makeshift poker table (a cardboard box in the back of the storage van parked outside the McMansion we've been rented out to for the day), looking for all the world like a little kid who's lost his balloon. I shrink down behind the tower of chips, folding my ears down as much as I can to lower my profile.

"Baaawhn-Baaawhn?! Are you theeeere?" he calls out, twirling around in a daze. Please don't see me, please don't see me... "Say, Bidybab, have you seen my Baaaaaawhn-Baaaaaaaawhhnn?!"

"Uh, I think she's somewhere that's not here," Bidybab tells him. Gee, thanks, asshole. What, you only know how to bluff when it comes to poker? You can dupe me on a fucking queen and a THREE, but you can't tell a lie to save MY life? Apparently Freddy's not buying it either, because I hear him begin to randomly shove things around in his search for me. Bidybab and Minireena nearly get tossed overboard as he begins to clumsily grope around our table, and it doesn't take him long to uncover me behind my flimsy camouflage.

"Baaaww-- ohhh, THERE you are!" Aww, shit. "C'mon, Bawn-Bawn, let's go say hi to the birthday boy!"

Having successfully locked onto me, Freddy quickly reaches for my tiny body, grinning ear to ear.

"No one is here!" I squeak in a panic right as he hefts me by my torso to mount me on his arm.

"Mmm, whaaaat?" Freddy asks, confused. "Oh don't be silly, you--"

"Shhh! Go back to your stage! Everything is okay!" I frantically insist, smiling and waving my arms. "Let's go back to sleep!"

Freddy stops halfway through reconnecting me to his wrist module, and I can practically see his processor smoldering as he tries and fails to resolve the contradictions between what I'm saying and his own common sense.

"Bawn-Bawn, it's 3:30 in the afternoon," he whines. "Do I have to?"

"Night night!" Come on, you fat stupid piece of shit, just go already. Just go back to your stage and sing about pizza or whatever.

Eventually it proves to be too much for his flimsy brain and the emergency reboot kicks in, causing him to set me down (read: drop me on the cardboard box) and wander back to his point of origin -- in this case, the portable stage he shares with Foxy. With a loud, frustrated sigh, I roll over onto my back as soon as Freddy's gone.

"Mrrrreeeeee?" Minireena chitters, crawling over to my side. He looks at me with a curious expression before experimentally jabbing me in my bow tie.

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly," I mutter. "So, uh, little help here?"

He nods, forcing me onto my base. "Thanks, buddy," I respond. "Boy, I REALLY wish corporate had given me some legs or something. Anyway, where were we?"

"Eh, doesn't matter, but that actually reminds me of something," Bidybab says as he begins gathering up the cards to reset the game. "What the hell is UP with 'Fazbear Entertainment' or whatever they're calling themselves now? Like do they just not notice the daily trips to the scooping room? Has nobody thought to call the rental company every time a kid goes missing at a party?"

"The hell do you want me to say? People are stupid, robots are awesome?" I grunt dismissively. "Look at the guy who designed us. Afton's made a frickin' career out of slipping shit under the radar. Did nobody at corporate realize that 'Variable Scent Release' was just a clever way of saying 'hey, this robot farts chloroform'?"

"Well, it's not exactly a 'fart' but yeah, I get your meaning. Hell, aren't you supposed to be some kinda parental tracking unit or something?"

"When I feel like it, maybe. So what about this Eggs guy?" I ask as Minireena wins the third hand in a row, having apparently learned how to play poker. "Seems nice enough."

"You know Circus Baby's probably not gonna let him live, right?" Bidybab replies. "He already seems to know too much."

"Lucky bastard. If she gives him the gasser, then at least he'd be dead, which is a damn sight better than us." I toss my depleted battery in our "ashtray" (one of Freddy's spare hats) and grab a fresh one out of the pack before checking my cards. "Nnnnoope. Fold."

"Wow. Way to get all fatalistic on us, Bon-Bon. You know you're just a puppet, right? What do you have to be suicidal over?"

"You try having a hand up your backside twenty-three hours a day while kids fling pizza at you. See how you like it," I mutter. "So like, fill me in on this stupid plan of your mom's. What's she gonna do, scoop a real, live human?"

"Reeeee," Minireena adds.

"I know. Insane, right?" I chuckle. "Even she's not that stupid."

"First: Baby's NOT my mom," Bidybab growls. "Second: that's actually a pretty good idea. Look, all she told us was 'she'd bring us all together on the details' when it was time. Look, I know that this week's the week we make our escape for good. Ballora's apparently not too big on the idea from what I hear. Foxy, on the other hand, says she's in, so we'll see how that goes."

"Cool. You guys have fun with that. See if you can take Freddy with you and maybe just let me have my run of the place."

"What, you'd actually want to STAY?!" Bidybab and Minireena exchange glances before turning back to me. "Why the hell would you do that? Don't you want to be part of the outside world?"

I glance around the children's party with disgust. Pizza, cake, ice cream, bugs, grass, sticky soda, nope. Nothing there appeals to me. I'm a robot and proud; I don't have any interest in getting my gears and servos clogged with any manner of nastiness.

"Let's just say I'm an indoors girl and leave it at that," I reply. "So look, let's--"

Before I can finish, a blood-curdling scream rings out across the party.

"Fuck. Right on cue," Bidybab groans.

"And they're not even back to the truck yet," I add as Freddy and Foxy begin to stumble around in the commotion. Baby nearly knocks Ballora off the stage, trying in vain to calm everyone down. "Looks like we might be here a while."