Fowl Mouthed - FN@F

At some point Regan had come to terms with just how bad of an idea it was to sneak into a closed down pizzeria. Maybe it was when she first arrived, when she had scaled a two story building to break into the rooftop maintenance door and had been met with an eerie darkness that had sent a shiver down her spine. It also could have been that when she was in the middle of her crawl through dusty air ducts, she had the pleasure of finding one spot that become loose from the ceiling; she ended up plummeting ten feet to the surface in broken piece of the air duct. While no bones were broken, she was most certainly going to hurt tomorrow.

 

It had taken her a few minutes to wiggle out of the cramped metal and onto the surface of the pizzeria floor, met with the coldness of an abandoned family restaurant that had not seen a soul for nearly ten years. Regan had been to Freddy Fazbear's when she was a child, before it had been decided to close down due to malfunctioning animatronics. Rumors had spread that children had been abducted and stuffed into the suits, and with the passing of time and the eventual death of the company, that rumor had turned into an urban legend. Despite all the windows being boarded up, there was talk of lights peering from inside of the pizzeria. The city council had tried for years to demolish the place but nothing ever went right, or rather, many people assumed the souls of the children prevented the pizzeria from being destroyed. Everything that, even in the slightest amount, ran on electricity would somehow stop working within fifty feet of the building. As such, the community had decided to leave it alone and hope for the best.

 

This is where Regan came came into the story. The urban legend had grew to a point where the value of Freddy Fazbear items had actually become expensive antiques. Some people would call her a looter or perhaps even a scavenger, but she thought himself more of an opportunist. There was a pressing need for real Fazbear items; an insane way of cashing in on collectors with too much money to burn through. Break into a supposedly “haunted” pizzeria, nab some of the best things she could, go back the way she came (which was no longer possible due to her falling from the air duct), and make a nice wad of fat cash. It wasn't exactly the most complicated of plans.

 

“Well ...it could have been worse,” she muttered to herself as she brushed dust off of her jeans. The fading light from outside that was able to push through the boarded up windows managed to fill the empty hallway with a dim luminescence, giving her a better look at her surroundings. The drawings of children were taped to the walls; a portrayal of cheerful times with robots that Regan could only slightly remember at best. “Huh. I can't believe these are still here.”

 

She moved towards a doorway that opened up into the big show room. There were tables neatly arranged with little pink and blue party hats. It was almost as if it had all been left with a birthday party expected the next day. The curious woman entered further into room, taking note that the stage was empty save for a broken mic stand and handful of cobwebs. There wasn't much to gather though; no worthwhile treasure or plunder to be had. “Huh. I'm not sure what I was exp-”

 

When Regan noticed the balloons her heart skipped a beat. At first she had dismissed the shapes due to the waning light, but now that she was in the room she could clearly see inflated balloons attached to the ends of the tables. This wasn't possible, the balloons would have ran out of helium years ago. The only possible conclusion is that someone had put helium in them and had done this very, very recently. Someone could have even been in the pizzeria as she had broken in, hell, someone could have called the cops on her already.

 

A noise came from the hall, making her spin on her heel in return, facing the opening. The sound of screeching metal, and then heavy thumps, echoing throughout the building, making the hairs on her body stand up and a horrible pit of worry form in her stomach. The thumps didn't grow any louder but they certainly weren't getting quieter. It took the scared woman nearly two whole minutes to work the courage up to go back to the hallway and peer around the corner. The sounds had stopped but her unease did not lessen. The air duct she had fell in wasn't there. It was fucking gone; someone had picked the whole damn thing up and walked away with it.

 

Dusk was approaching; light was fading even faster now. Regan needed to get the hell out of there before the other person realized someone else was around. She was sure as shit not going to spend an entire night fumbling through the dark with some stranger able to easily pick up huge weights. Rather then follow where the thumps had gone, Regan went in the other direction. She arrived at the end of the hall and was faced with two options. Try to break the window open and somehow push the nailed boards out from the inside, which was incredibly noisy and would take time, or duck through the little office on her left and maybe find an exit on the other hallway. Obviously she picked the less noisy choice.

 

The doorway was a little wider than normal and she was met with a mess of an officer. A black chair ripped apart, debris scattered everywhere, and even posters of the pizzeria badly ripped off the wall and thrown around like someone had a mental breakdown and tore the place apart. Compared to the pristine look of the rest of the restaurant, the office did not make a whole lot of sense to be in this condition. Whoever was taking care of Freddy's did not give a damn about the little room that joined the two halls.

 

Regan had made it halfway through the room when three things caught her eye. First was a Freddy Fazbear's “Number One Birthday Boy” medal, which caused her to mutter “score,” under her breath. If she got anything out of being scared to death in a rundown haunted building, it was at least fifty dollars worth of something. The second thing was a small flashlight, which to her surprise actually worked. The deadzone caused all electricity to cease near the building but for some reason the little torch actually worked really well, so it was something she had to pocket. The last thing was a piece of paper with words hastily scribbled on it; she could not resist the urge to read it.

 

“To whoever read this, I'm sorry.

 

I know this doesn't mean much because I know how little it will help. I'm certainly not going to get any help. These fuckers run with an ungodly speed. I'm sorry. There isn't enough time to write everything. We fucked up bad letting the bear out of the backstage closet. Don't fucking trust him he is TOO SMART FOR A BUNCH OF CIRCUITS. Fred managed to get the emergency exit open at the backstage from the inside, after Mitchell lured the big fucker out, but it cost both of them everything. It's just me now. I'm so sorry. Fuck I am sorry. He's coming this way and I can't even look at him please god I will do anything I AM SORRY SARAH”

 

The note was, well, for Regan it was a little difficult to finish. She knew whoever wrote the letter was obviously under some sort of stress and it sent a chill down her neck when she managed to get to the last part. Her little mission of trespassing for some easy cash had turned into some sort of nightmare quickly. At least she knew the backstage exit was a way for her to leave though. There was a little more written at the bottom, some last bit of text that hung in the corner like a name or a signature. The light had practically left from behind her though, leaving her struggling to see the badly scribbled wording.

 

But there was some light in front of her, from the other hallway.

 

That meant that something larger than her was blocking the light from behind her.

 

Her heart stopped as a small metallic clank came from behind her. The blood in her body ran cold and there was no possible way she could move. No courage, no fight or flight reflex that activated in her. Just pure terror of the shadow that engulfed Regan from behind. The fear was not a lasting one however, as her next moment was spent being knocked unconscious.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sometime later she awoke to an awful, painful headache and a dullness in her body. Whatever room she was in was dusty, cramped, and had absolutely no light. Groggy, it took her a moment to remember everything that had happened. Someone had probably bashed her in the back of the head, yet not hard enough to actually do any harm above being knocked out. Not that she wasn't mortified that she was attacked from behind, but she was still in one piece and not dead yet, so at least she had that going for her.

 

“Gawddamn,” she moaned, rubbing the back of her head, wincing when she felt the welt that formed on the back of her skull.

 

The young woman started to feel around, trying to find an exit to the room. She knew she was still in the pizzeria, and at best she imagined she was in a broom closet of some kind. There was metal parts scattered across the floor that she continued to accidentally kick as she felt her way the room via the wall she was leaning against. Then she heard shuffling in the room with her, a series of thumps and mechanical hisses that moved to the opposite end of the cramped space. Regan wasn't alone.

 

The flashlight?

 

She still had it, thanking whatever god was in charge of making jackets with deep pockets, and with some fumbling managed to point it towards the other person. Her thumb rested on the little clicker to shine the light but fear gripped at her heart. Something about not wanting to see whatever was in there with her, even if she knew better than to wish it away. It was better to know what you had to deal with rather face it, especially in her case, the literal dark.

 

When she turned the light on a different sort of fear and panic took hold of her, like when someone not ready to die has to face their mortality. Things that shouldn't happen or exist, that clearly do, and it is right in front of you. This was the best description that could label Regan as she simply stared at the yellow, animatronic, bird thing. Maybe it was the gaze that it returned, peering through the light and into the very soul of the scared-to-death woman, and maybe it could be that it blinked every few seconds that only confirmed that: Yes, this thing was active. Yes, it is looking at you. Yes, it is terrifying.

 

“Please don't scream.”

 

That was such an odd request to be given considering all that had happened and was current happening to her. It was especially weird when the eight foot tall chicken animatronic was instructing HER to be calm. Were it not for the fact that Regan was scared speechless, she would have been screaming her lungs out already.

 

“You gotta stay quiet,” The voice spoke again. It's tone was high and very feminine, but nothing could mask the obvious buzz from a speaker. There was no real vocal chords, just simple programming that allowed text to be audibly read aloud, even if this programming was anything but simple. Machines did not instruct people to be quiet. They wouldn't be able to work like this! “I don't want 'cha to get hurt. Please sit down before you hurt yourself.”

 

Regan slid down the wall, curling into a ball, unable to pull her eyes away from the robotic horror that stood before her. It was Chica, the yellow chicken-cook of the Fazbear crew, except it was a mixture of other parts as well. Parts incorporated from other Chica models or maybe spare parts laying about? It had a more expressive face, the eyes weren't as big as Regan remembered, the eyebrows moved quickly, the frame was smaller, and hell, it was capable of some form of limited smiling and frowning.

 

None of this helped the frightened woman though; her next brilliant idea was to start crying over what she was seeing. When confronted with something that challenged everything she knew about rationality, breaking down the last thing anyone should do, and yet she couldn't help herself. “P-please,” she managed between her silent sobs and the shaking that she couldn't seem to control. “I-I, ...I don't want to die. Please d-don't hurt me!”

 

The giant chicken-thing crouched down to her level, a small hiss coming from the knees as it struggled for a moment with changing its stance. “Whoa now girly! You won't get hurt! You just gotta listen to me though. It isn't safe at Freddy's anymore. I ...would you like a hug?”

 

Regan slowly shook her head, causing the animatronic to frown. “I'm sorry girly, I guess you ought-a-be shocked by this. I, uh, I'm sorry about knocking you down earlier. I did it to protect you! If Freddy had seen you, well, you'd be in a lot of trouble. I couldn't let that happen to you. I had to save you.”

 

Chica mimicked how Regan had curled herself, unable to do more than bring its knees halfway to its head and wrap its hands around the ankles. It looked almost as if the animatronic was trying to bring herself to Regan's level. “I-I don't understand,” she began, trying to make sense of things. “Y-you're not supposed to do this! How can you be working a-”

 

“Keep it down girly!”

 

“What? Sorry; how can you be working?! It's been years since this place closed down! Kids supposedly died here! What was with that note and the three guys that died?! What the fuck is going on?” Regan continued, keeping her voice hushed after being reminded of the threat that lingered outside the room. She had no trust of the animatronic, but she certainly didn't feel threatened anymore by its presence and that alone helped her get her emotions back under control. “How- ...I read on the note in the office that the backstage exit works like a one-way door. I need to get out that way.”

 

“First of all girly,” Chica began, some sarcastic tone coming from its voice box before it would be interrupted.

 

“It's Regan, not girly.”

 

“Regan? Oh! I'm Chica! Nice to meet ya! Want a pizza? ...sorry, that's an old habit. If you would, please, don't swear around me. I work with, well I USED to work with kids, but swearing is a big no-no for kids and I think it should be with adults too.”

 

Regan had gone from an emotional wreck to just being plain baffled at the strange personality of this giant chicken. She took herself out of her fetal position and sat bow-legged. “You're ...you're serious aren't you? What about the other questions I asked?”

 

“What were they again?”

 

“How are you operational? What happened to the dude who left the note in the office? What the ...heck... is going on?”

 

Chica let out a sigh, or at least the closet thing that it could manage, before beginning. “I don't know gir- er, Regan. Freddy, well, ...Freddy doesn't let us leave the building and he keeps bringing in new parts or suits to fix us. It's been a long time since we've had a visitor, and the last few times Freddy took them away. I tried to warn them but he always stopped me. I don't know what happened but there were always screams. Regan it w-was terrible! I'm so happy I got to you first though, I can keep you safe!”

 

“How many more of you are there?”

 

“Foxy was at pirate cove, but Freddy took his legs away when he charged him one night, and then he took everything else from him. That's when Bonnie and I made a pact to never go against Mr. Fazbear; he's big and he's mean. We try our best to keep everything clean while he works backstage. I haven't seen Bon-Bon in a while though and I'm scared something happened to my bunny friend ...could we talk about something more cheerful? Maybe pizza?”

 

Regan sighed, shaking her head at the giant chicken. “I need to get out of here.”

 

“Why do you want to leave?! It's dangerous! Freddy could catch you! I can bring you the water we have in the kitchen and I could even make you a pizza! I make the best pizzas, you'll see. You wouldn't have to go ...and I wouldn't be left alone.”

 

The animatronic was tugging at her heart strings now, causing Regan to groan as she began to use the flashlight to scan the rest of the room. Metal bars and joints littered the floor, creating all sorts of trip hazards. The thought came to her of using one the bars as a weapon, but she highly doubted she'd have the strength to fight a giant metal robot. As she continued to look for anything she could use a tool for her freedom the animatronic continued, “I know you can't stay here Regan. I know it's dangerous. I wish I could leave but Freddy won't let me and I all I know is Freddy Fazbear's. I'll help you though. I will get you home.”

 

“Chic-”

 

“Getting you to safety is the tip-top priority, girly.”

 

The robotic bird stood up, offering its -...her hand out for Regan to take. There was a brief moment where the young woman assessed her choices she had taken in the last twenty-four hours. She broken into an abandoned pizzeria with a killer robot, there was another robot promising to help her (which, considering all that happened may not have been a great idea to trust), and there was a chance she was going to be caught and probably murdered by the killer robot. Was putting her life into the giant bird's hands really a good idea? Unfortunately for her, there was only once chance to get out the building alive. She took Chica's hand, standing up and turning the flashlight off completely. “Okay. Good. How are we getting me out of here?”

 

She couldn't see the bird's expression in the dark but the tone of her voice gave it away. “I'm going to do something awful, something no one should do! I'm going to go tight up to that nasty ol' Freddy and tell him a big fat lie.”

 

“What?”

 

“No one should lie! It's wrong! I always told the children never to lie and I like to think they took that to heart.”

 

“What are you talking about; people lie every single day.”

 

“Please Regan, this is hardly the time for jokes. People don't lie, that's an awful thing to do to each other. Now, listen, I'll tell Mr. Fazbear that I need his help in the office and that's when you'll sneak around us when we leave and be able to go into the backstage. The nightlights will be on so be sure to stay hidden until we leave.”

 

Regan felt Chica moving towards the door and could hear the handle being moved. “W-wait,” She stammered. “What will happen to you?”

 

The was pause in the dark and brief sigh that came from her metallic rescuer. “I don't know.”

 

When they stepped out into the hallway Regan had to shield her eyes for a moment to adjust to the light. The nightlights were bright searchlights that illuminated the hallway even more than during the day. It only added to the nightmarish factor that the pizzeria naturally emitted. The walk towards the backstage for the two of them was slow and seemed to stretch into forever. Regan was unsure if the  animatronic could actually feel anything, but if she did it was probably the same fear that gripped Regan. Neither of them knew wanted the plan to go awry; one small mistake and it could spell disaster. “Listen,” Chica tried to whisper, the buzz from the voice box making it difficult to keep her voice that low. “Whatever happens, stay behind this corner until I'm gone. It was nice meeting you Regan, please stay safe.”

 

With that, the animatronic left her care to approach a large doorway, stopping at the entrance to call inside. “Mr. F-Fazbear? It's C-Chica, I need your help in the office.”

 

Daring not to peer around the corner, Regan listened to the thumps of something larger than Chica approach her. The air was still before another voice broke the momentary silence. It was deeper and spoke with a tone that made her believe that the other robot was constantly in scorn of Chica; something about it was unsettling. “Chica, I'm a VERY busy bear, why do you need me?”

 

“I-I found some things in the o-office you should look at.”

 

There was a pause before Freddy spoke again. “You're lying to me.”

 

“What?!”

 

“You should know better than to lie to Freddy. I do not like liars. Do you remember what happened to Foxy? Do you want me to make an example of you as well?”

 

“Freddy, please, the off-”

 

“I have worked hard to keep us in working order. I have had to rebuild almost every piece of you, do not think I could not easily rip you to apart. At Freddy Fazbear's, Freddy is the boss. Chica is the cook. What are you hiding?”

 

“I- ...there's a girl here.”

 

“Where?”

 

“S-she...”

 

Regan's mind began to race. Could she sprint past them? She doubted it. What more, Regan could hardly believe Chica folded over so fast. All that talk about getting her to saftey, about putting Regan's life as her number one priority, gone in a minute of conversation with an animatronic that asserted dominance with one statement. Her heart skipped a beat as she could hear the two moving towards her. “Wait! Freddy! Wait!”

 

A moment later she got a fantastic view of Freddy Fazbear, boss of the Fazbear pizza band, and now host to the fear that gripped her heart. Some distant memory of the bear uncovered itself from the back of her mind and she could clearly see how he had not changed at all, save for the obvious damage time had taken on him. There was one difference though, and that was how the eyes never seemed to blink. After a few moments Freddy grabbed Regan's left forearm and lifted her into the air, dangling her like a ragdoll with his superior height.

 

Chica whipped around the corner, trying to pull the giant bear's arm down and was met only with a shove from the bigger machine. “Please Mr. Fazbear, let Regan go! She just wants to leave! I'll do anything!”

 

“No Chica,” The animatronic bear replied, starting to squeeze Regan's arm. She gasped from the pain, kicking at the hull of the robot, trying to make him let her go. The pain increased and she was going mad trying to fight her way out of an impossible grip. “No one leaves Fazbear's.”

 

Chica left, scrambling away, leaving Regan dangling from the grip of a death machine. Nothing was working; kicks, scratches, nothing was doing any harm to the bear. Regan was sure her forearm was close to snapping under the pressure. She could not cry, only scream in fury at the doom that was approaching her. “You fucker! Fuck! Chica come back! Don't leave me! Let me go! LET ME GO!”

 

The animatronic bear responded, “Please stop swearing; it's a terrible thing to do. Little girls and boys should be polite to one another. I cannot have you corrupting Chica, what if the pizzeria opens again? She may learn from you and start to swear. We cann-”

 

The giant, horrific bear never finished his speech due to Chica having driven a large metal pole through his arm, spitting it out through the wrist. With the shattering grip now gone, Regan dropped to the floor, falling onto her back, the giant robot looming over her. Apparently when Chica had scrambled off, it was in search of a weapon, and not that she had written Regan off for dead. The young woman would have vowed to put more trust into Chica from then on, if she wasn't so concerned with trying to pick herself off the floor and sprint to the backstage.

 

“Backdoor! Now!” Chica shouted, her voice shattering from the buzz of an overdriven speaker. Regan did not need reminding as she dove past the two bots, rounded the corner, and ran for the doorway. One look behind her confirmed that Chica had ripped the pole out of the wounded bot and had driven it into the base of his neck. Sparks erupted from the nearly severed robot head and a distorted scream filled the halls of Freddy Fazbear's.

 

The backstage room was a room of nightmares. The bright searchlights showed a room packed to the brim with a hellish sight. Animatronic parts were scattered across the floor, all manners of tools were laid out on a table, and, worst yet, the walls were painted with red smears of what Regan guessed as very old blood. She had observed the entire scene for maybe two or three seconds before she was hoisted up by the larger Chica, who was practically about to throw her out of the building.

 

The sweet air of freedom came to the young woman as a door with a red “EXIT” sign opened up before her and she was placed outside. The night air was illuminated by a bright, full moon hanging in the sky. Coldness, an air of late fall winter hit her lungs and gave her a sharp gasp. She had never felt so happy to be alive then at that moment. Of course, if you had spent the better part of an evening scared that you were about to die, you probably would have been just as grateful to leave such an environment behind you.

 

Regan spun around on her heel, facing the chicken at the door. The animatronic had not followed her out, and the sound of a raging machine from deeper inside the pizzeria was only growing louder by the second. “Chica! We have to go!”

 

Her giant yellow companion stood frozen at the door, a worrisome look on her face. “I can't leave Regan. I'm the cook at Fazbear's! Who's gunna cook the pizza for the kids?”

 

“Chica there are no kids! You have to leave!”

 

“We aren't allowed to leave!”

 

Regan shook her head in frustration. She couldn't just leave her compatriot in a pizzeria where she would almost be guaranteed to be taken apart by a killer robot, but the damn animatronic wasn't willing to leave either. Freddy was eventually going to get his head on straight and then all hell would break loose for Chica. “Listen here you giant, overgrown, avian! If you don't leave ...I'll, uh, then I'll tell a huge, fat lie!”

 

“You wouldn't dare!”

 

“I will tell everyone in town that you make the worst fucking pizzas!”

 

“DID YOU JUST SWEAR?!”

 

The animatronic chicken stomped out of the building, the emergency door closing behind her with a defining “thud”. Too late, Chica realized she had been tricked into leaving the pizzeria. She looked back at Fazbear's for a few moments, apparently listening to the muffled noises of a rampaging Freddy. “I'm not supposed to leave,” She whispered, her voice box doing its best to replicate a whisper. “I'm not programmed to work outside.”

 

Regan stepped beside her, waving at her to get her attention. “Look, I know its hard, but we need to get away from here. That ...thing... in there is going to very upset when he fixes himself up. You and I need to be long gone before that happens. I'm sorry I tricked you but WE NEED TO GO.”

 

The animatronic looked down at her, scowling as best as her limited face functions allowed before her scowl turned to a frown. “That was a nasty trick you pulled. I don't have anywhere to go though Regan. This is my home.”

 

The young woman shook her head. “I guess social cues aren't a thing you understand. You think I would leave you out here? Come on, you'll stay with me and I'll do my best to keep you hidden out of sight from people.”

 

The giant chicken's face lit up, now showing surprise. Her tone became high-pitched, simulating a sequel as best as she could. “A sleepover?!”

 

“What? Uh, sure.”

 

“Does that mean we are friends?!”

 

“Err, yes? I guess?”

 

“We are?! Can I make you pizza?!”

 

“Chica please, I'd like to leave the area before the killer bear gets his shit together. My apartment is a bit far, but we've got a few hours of the night left and if we stick to alleys I can probably get you there without anyone noticing.”

 

“Ohhhh kay! Oh I am so excited! Also, could you stop swearing?”

 

Regan groaned. In one night her life had completely flipped around on her, nearly getting her killed and putting her in charge of giant animatronic designed for kids. For a someone who's life usually focused around stealing and burglary, this had been a little too much adventure for her. “Fuck.”