Fredrica's All-Night Pizza and Burlesque Saloon pt 5

You and your supervisor traveled deeper into the backstage area. The darkness crept in and really did a number on your perception of space. “Fredrica likes the dark,” You heard your guide say, probably in response to your aura of confusion as you stumbled along behind him. After crashing into a few sets and falling on your face over things, the faint outline of a door became visible to your night-adjusted eyesight.

“Oh,” Gary said, then with a click, a beam of light penetrated the black you two were enveloped in. “I forgot, this is for you, It’s for lightin and clobberin people.” He handed over the hefty metal flashlight. He wasn’t kidding about the thing being a useful weapon. It probably weighed a good 7 pounds. With the new found ability to see, getting to the door was a snap. The room was unlabeled, save for a flaking painted star on the door, probably an original to the old theatre.

Before he could knock, a soothing, calm voice came from within. “Gary, please come in. I would like to meet my newest family member.” You were slightly shaken, but it wasn’t the strangest thing to happen so far. Gary twisted the elegant old knob on the door and slowly proceeded inside, warm light spilling out. While much of the building, both front and back of the house, quite obviously showed its age, this room was totally different. While everything inside was certainly antique, it was spotless, classy, and over all elegant. Framed pictures of famous burlesque, cabaret, and vaudevillian actors covered the walls in between the mirrors. You couldn’t name any of them if you wanted, but you supposed they were important.

Seated on a white chaise lounge in the middle of the room was Fredrica Fazbear, draped in a white fur coat, awaiting her cue to go on stage. Next to her, on a carved wood table, was a bank of security monitors, not at all dissimilar to the ones in the office, except they were far more numerous and far more modern. Her half-lidded gaze fell on you. “Michael Schmidt, please take a seat, the owner told me all about you.”

You nodded and sat down on another piece of her furniture set. She looked to the other man in the room, “Gary darling, may I please have a moment with Mr. Schmidt?” The little roach-like man scuttled out of the door, slowly closing it behind him. Once the lock clicked back into place, she smiled. “My act begins soon, but please, do tell me a little bit about yourself.”

And so you did. You told her a quick summary of your life at the moment, between ties breaking with friends and family and your terrible landlord, and she nodded and reacted as any normal person would, saying things like, “Oh you poor dear,” and “Oh heavens you deserve much better than that,” You weren’t sure why, but of all the performers you had met so far, she just seemed very… warm, genuine, mothering... comfortable.

After you finished, she stood up. “From now on Michael, things will be very different for you. You’re under the Fazbear wing now, and above pleasing customers, family is the most important thing we offer and uphold.” You stood to leave and she gave you a warm hug. Oddly, it didn’t feel strange to hug her back as it did with most people.

“Thank you, uh Ms. Fazbear,” you said in a casual but still polite sort of way.

She smiled at you, like when parent smiles at their child doing something wrong but adorably so, “No Michael, please, call me Mama,” She wrapped up the hug and with that she left the room.

You weren’t sure, but part of you was almost certain you had just joined a burlesque pizza robot mafia. Gary came back in shortly. “So, what’d she say?” he asked with an odd amount of eagerness in his voice.

“She said I’m part of the Fazbear family.” The pudgy man looked beyond pleased.

“Good good, now, If you’ll follow me, there’s still some paperwork you need to fill out,” He gave you a slap on the back, “Welcome to the family, kid.”