Fredrica's ch6 pt4

You would have never guessed robots could be so stealthy, what with all their noisy gears and servos cracking about inside of them, but surprisingly, Mama and the girls’ movements are muted, only a dull buzz escaping their joints as they walk further into enemy territory. You let them lead the way, since they're not only stronger than you, but also have the ability to see in the dark, unlike yourself. You would have flicked on the metal flashlight hanging from your belt to assist your own meager sight, but you feel its beam would be way too bright to use while illegally breaking and entering.

The kitchen is quite large, probably double what you had seen of the one back at the Theatre. Granted, the head cook never liked you snooping around in there anyways and getting in the way. The appliances glisten in the faint light, showing how modern and top of the line they are, also unlike those of your employer. Mama reaches the windowed double doors and peeks out. She nods, giving the signal for everyone to get in their groups. You join Foxy and Daddy, with Carla on your shoulder. Mama’s party leaves the cover of the dark kitchen first, creeping into the dining room, then slipping into another employees only door, lead on dutifully by the directions of Carol. Daddy looks at Carla.

“So, where do we go from here?” He whispers to her.

“Basement access is across the entire building, mostly the dining room, but it’s way out in the open! There’s probably people over there, or… Or maybe a trap! We need to move more stealthily.” She scans the room, then her candle lights up. “Ahah! Perfect!” She says in a hush, pointing to a large ventilation grate attached to the wall. The cupcake jumps off your shoulder and onto a counter, then a trash can, then to the floor. Using her tiny but strong hands, she simply pries the little screws out of the grate. Catching on, Daddy bends down and helps her, mostly to make sure it doesn’t clatter to the ground and make a whole bunch of noise. Once her little mits get it off the wall, he sets it aside, revealing a very large metal shaft. stretching into the depths of the building. She immediately walks into it.

Foxy is the first to shrug and follow along, probably enjoying the obvious deviation from Carol’s studious planning. Daddy hops right in after her. You swallow thickly, and get to your knees, crawling into the aluminum tunnel. Before leaving the kitchen behind, you reach back and pull the grate back into place, at least so it can look a tiny bit less suspicious.

The train of interlopers does their best to keep down the sound of their knees and hands slapping into the resonant surface of the tube, but it’s far harder than it seems. Carla keeps leading the way. The tunnel branches off in a maze of dead-ends and other corridors. Anyone without some kind of robotic mapping would easily get lost. As you crawl past a long black off-shoot of the vent, you swear you hear something thump in its depths. It was probably just your imagination.

Up ahead, there is a hub of sorts, a meeting of several vent shafts, leaving room enough to spread out little and take a break. In the center, there is a large grate, facing downward. Light pours up into the dark of the metal tunnel, prompting the entire party to gather around and peer down onto the scene taking place below.

It appears to be a workshop, not unlike that of Daddy’s. However, it’s massive, and at least ten men mill about below, dressed in lab gear. The one directly below is pouring over some large blueprints and schematic charts. You squint, making out a very familiar, pear-shaped figure drawn in white. They’re Bonnie’s blueprints! Another man comes up to him and speaks, his thick gloves are dripping with what appears to be oil.

“She shouldn’t be a problem now,” He says sternly. You gut wrenches and your eyes widen.

The man at the table quickly spits back at him. “You had better not have damaged anymore property, Walterson. The boss hasn’t forgiven you for your last… mis-calculations.”

“No! Of course not! I just hadta take care of her legs alittle, make sure sure couldn’t keep tryin to run away! Believe me, I can fix’em in like 5 minutes iffn I needed to. Good thing she’s in that soundproof room. She was screamin like CRAZY. It’s not like she felt it or nothin. But I can tell ya somethin she did feel~” Thankfully, the other man promptly punches him hard in the gut, causing the tubby Walterson to double-over onto the ground with a wheeze. Once he catches a little breath he groans, “C-c’mon doc I was jus… j-jokin with ya…”

The square-jawed man at the table turns his attention back to the papers. “I’d rather you not make such crass jokes. This isn’t some… Pervert pizzeria. We’re dealing with LIFE here, you bumbling idiot. These plans… They’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before. This is VERY IMPORTANT, possibly the most important innovations in robotics since the birth of artificial intelligence.” He slams his fists very suddenly on the table. “And YOU are TAMPERING WITHOUT PERMISSION. GO IN THERE AND FIX HER LEGS. If she kicks you to death, it would be for the betterment of science anyways. Studying the force of your brain splatters on the walls would be far more useful to me than what you have done so far.” The fat little toady of a man wobbles to his feet. Before he can make another snide remark, the Doctor shoots him a deathly gaze, making him retreat quickly from the direction he came. You watch him closely. That was where she was. If she didn’t kill him, you certainly would try your level best to attempt to bring yourself to grievously harm him.

The animatronic beside you suddenly gives a hard bump, enough to make you cover your mouth before you can cry out. Carla scolds, keeping her eyes focused on the vent, “Chica, don’t bump into Mike like that,” She whispers. A second ticks by, and all of you come to the collective realization that Chica had not come with you. Before you can register, a slick, yellow, plastic arm is around your throat and dragging you closer to the grate. An unfamiliar voice yells, sounding shriller and shriller as it echos.

“PLAY TIME’S OVER KIDS”. The slim chicken bot suddenly slams her elbow into the grate, breaking it loose easily and sending you plummeting out of the hole. You grab onto the ledge, your body dangling several more feet from the ground than you are comfortable with. Foxy tries to jump and roll on the enemy robot, but finds herself unable to get a good grip on her hard, slippery plastic casing.

The last thing you see before you go falling is her golden fist pounding your fingers loose and her horrible, saccharine, beakless grin.