gotta start somwehere (First thing I posted in the thread,

		PROLOGUE

click-click

thump

The light gleams off of the keys.

Michael shut his car door, and turned to walk up the lot. In front of him, is a brick building about twenty feet tall. A metal door stands in the center, on the sidewalk. Weeds are growing in the cracks. Michael checks his watch. 11:45. He steels himself for what’s ahead, as he grips the keyring.

First order of business is that, since the traffic wasn’t so bad, he may as well hear what his friend had to to tell him. For the past four days, he’s received messages of advice from a fellow security guard. At such a storied and historied location, sometimes a guard will need to pass the baton at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.

Michael hit the blinking light on the answering machine, and pulled out the tablet. Just to check if anyone else is around. Two janitors in the backstage area, cleaning in front of the three motionless robots. Mike wondered if they knew anything at all about what happens here at night. He clicked it off for now. A now-familiar ring sounded off.

“Hello, hello? Hey! Hey, wow, day 4. I knew you could do it.” There was a tinge of panic in the man’s voice.

“Uh, hey, listen, I may not be around to send you a message tomorrow.”

A sound of metal banging on metal echoed inside the room and through the halls. Mike knew it well, whenever he shut down a robot, they would pound uselessly before heading away. He could hear it in his dreams, and could hear it now,  even though it was coming from a cheap speaker.


“It's been a bad night here for me. Uh, I'm kind of glad that I recorded my messages for you…”

The man stuttered repeatedly saying this, and clears his throat to calm himself.

“....when I did. Hey, do me a favor.”

He was panting at this point. Another pound on the door. Or plural? Were those two different slams?

“Maybe sometime you could check inside one of those suits in the back room?”

At this point, he doesn’t sound like the laidback, Midwest man Mike remembers on his first night here. He’s beginning to break up, and his voice is quivering.

 “I'm going to try to hold out until someone checks. Maybe it won’t be so bad.”

A torrent of slams, this time unceasing.

“ I always wondered what was in those empty heads back there.” The inquiry doesn’t go unnoticed, and Mike make’s a mental note. An instrument plays, like out of a music box. One Mike only knows too well.

Two nights ago, things were going bad. He had shut both doors down; the rabbit and the chicken had him surrounded. His tablet itself wasn’t working when both doors opened up. Mike had braced himself for the end, tears beginning to form, only for nothing to come. He opened his eyes to see two white eyes in the window, and a melancholic tune emitted from that direction. For what felt like an eternity it played, Mike not daring to even turn his neck, wondering where the two had gone. And just as it felt it was tapering off, a chime went off inside of the building signalling the beginning of day.

This same song reached it’s end.

“You know…. oh no.”

A scream. Mike hadn’t heard the robots make any noise before aside from the music.  But that shriek could not have been human. He checked his watch. 11:55. Mike pivoted around to open the door, and reached for the handle.

The handle wasn’t there.

Neither was the door. In place of it was a  wall-long mural  of the Freddy Fazbear band. Bonnie and Chica either looking at Freddy, or at each other. And Freddy himself, staring at Mike. Grinning.

Mike ran to  the hallway, hoping to God he would beat the clock. Cam 3. Only way to get to the booth is through the closet. He squeezed himself in, and darted out. Down into the dining hall. The robots were right next to the entrance.  He felt himself push as hard as he could to run faster. The floors were slick with water and soap, and he felt himself slip, and fall backwards.

Straight above him was Freddy Fazbear.

On stage of course, but he didn’t know the time anymore. He pushed himself off the floor and hustled to the door, and threw his shoulder into it.

It didn’t open.

He bashed and bashed, and it wouldn’t budge. Until he noticed the glass windows on each side.

He checked his watch.

11:58.

He turned back, and looked on stage.

Chica.

He wrested the metal cupcake from her grasp, and it was heavy. Much heavier than he’d think. The one in the office was bolted down, yet this seemed bigger. Size of a grapefruit.

He hurled it at the window.

KCK

A crack. He kicked in the glass, and using the sill of the window above the one he broke as a handhold, slid through the two foot gap.

He made a right turn, and ran to his car around the back of the building.

He was finally free.

But what stopped him dead in his moment of triumph, as he ripped open the door and got in, was the sight of the employee exit.


Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza and a cartoon Freddy was on the wall, with broken glass littering the sidewalk. A pink shape rolling, and coming to a stop in the street. Three figures stared at him through the window, as he drove out onto the freeway. They were off the stage.

End of Prologue