Frank Day 2.0

At five o'clock, Art left his apartment and walked to his local diner. He ordered eggs over easy with sausage and hash browns. He ate quietly as he sipped coffee, looking out the window at the purple morning skies. He returned home at 6 to prepare for work.

He threw on the violet pants first, and looped his brown belt around the waist. The buckle, which was a golden emblazoned Freddy head, glimmered in the light. Art slipped his keyring into the pockets, and clipped an empty holster onto the belt. Management had been supplying tasers as of late, in the event that an employee should encounter somebody doing something they shouldn’t. It was highly unlikely, but Art and the other staff members appreciated the added security, and the chance to be a hero should the opportunity arrive.  As Art buttoned up his shirt, he slipped his fingers into his breast pocket vainly, and immediately withdrew them. The disappearing paper had inexplicably unsettled him.

 Art walked two blocks to the nearest bus stop, and arrived at Freddy’s at 6:45 in the morning. The morning skies had brightened considerably, giving way to blue. The light color made the Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza building more vibrant and less oppressive than it should be. The building was long and rectangular, with few windows on the outside. The colors of the building  itself were dull; chalk white and a small strip of purple wrapping around the building, accompanied by neon red letters spelling out “Freddy Fazbear’s  Pizza”.

The restaurant  was located on a lot away from other buildings. Freddy’s had ample parking space, but only a dozen or so spaces were filled, even on the weekend. The incident with Freddy and the night guard had dealt a crucial blow to the company at a time when it was already under public scrutiny, from the disappearing children to the publicized bite.

Art hadn’t been hired at the time, but from what Ted and Jason had told him, it was a mess. The new Freddy’s AI had reacted poorly to the sight of a handicapped Jeremy, who was returning with his family to discuss compensation. He was driven into a manic state, which killed Jeremy and culminated in Freddy’s self-destruction.

As Art entered the restaurant from the east side, he noted that there was little evidence of Freddy or any of the other animatronics that the company had invested so much time and money in merchandising. Frank was the only animatronic allowed outside of the curtains now. The company did have plans for Freddy and friends, supposedly; they were just in the middle of one of their worst slumps since the 70’s.

Art turned in on the right to enter the break room, where lower-ranking employees often congregated in the morning. It was surprisingly adequate, boasting arcade machines, a fridge, and a toaster in addition to the expected furnishings. Ted was already there, sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and talking to Jason.  He turned his head towards Art, and they stopped talking.

“Hey Art,” Ted called. “We gotta talk.”
“What for?”, Art asked.
“It’s about Frank,” Jason said. He stood up from his seat, and unwrapped a foil-covered stack of bread.  He slid two pieces into the toaster, and pushed down on the lever. “He’s acting weird.”

“And we’re on a skeleton crew,” Ted added. “Jason’s going home, so it’s just you, me, and Evan. Diane called in sick, and Jimmy doesn’t come in until 1.”

“What about Jim?”, Art asked.

“Jim’s out for the day, so I’ll be acting manager. He’s doing some big interview, corporate sent him. We’re gonna be spread out because of this, but we should do fine.”
Jason’s toast popped out of the toaster’s top.  “Get back to Frank,” he said.

“Right,” Ted nodded. “Frank’s been acting weird at night.  He’s been wandering around lately. We need someone watching him.”

“They all do that though,” Art said. “They always walk around at night, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but he was staring at a piece of paper,” Jason said, as he retrieved his toast. “And he didn’t want me to see, he blocked the cameras with his body.”

“What piece of paper?”, Art asked. He felt something tighten inside his chest.

“I didn’t see it too long, but it was creased. He hid it inside his suit.”

“You didn’t find it?”

“No,” Ted said. “We looked inside his bun, that’s it.”

“Why not?”

“Because we didn’t want to get too invasive,” Jason said. He slathered some butter onto his bread, and folded the toast onto itself, crunching it in the process. He bit off a part of it.

“There’s no off switch with him, this guy’s always on,” Ted added. “He’s one of the older models we have, so we don’t want to stress his AI too much.”

“How could we stress him?”, Art asked.

“It’s what happened to Freddy. The engineers think he went crazy trying to figure out who’s a killer and who’s not. We’re better off keeping things simple for him. Regular maintenance procedures, and nothing suspicious”

“So, don’t open him up unless you absolutely have to,” Jason said. “We just have to hold out until Jim gets some new characters in, wait for these PR messes to blow over, and then we can forget about the AI shit.”

Art felt the tightness in his chest intensify into a nauseous sensation in his stomach. “I think he took the picture I drew for the skit yesterday.”

“You sure about that, Art?”, Ted asked.

“I think so. It wasn’t in my pocket when I left the room, and he had gotten up close to me. I think he took it there.”

“Shit,” Jason muttered. He rubbed his face with his hands, letting the toast fall onto the counter.

“Why would he take the picture?”, Art asked.

“Maybe he’s looking for the kidnapper. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up on that incident. Also, he’s doing another show today, it’ll be by the kitchen. Can you cover the food and drinks, Art?,” Ted asked.

“Sure, “ Art said.

“I also want you to watch him. We can rip him open later, let’s just get ready for today. “

“I’m going home,” Jason said. He tossed his toast in the trash, and went down the hallway that Art came from “I’ll be back before the shift, but I need some sleep.”

“Seeya, Jason.”
“Come back at 10 or so,” Ted called. “

“We’ve got forty minutes before we open,” Ted said as he looked at his watch. “I’ll help you get the hot dogs going.”

Art noticed that  kitchen was surprisingly spacious. It’s single doorway betrayed an expansive area the size of the Party Room at least. Pots and pans dangled from the ceiling, and as Ted showed him how to work the stove, Art looked into cupboards and drawers for his cooking utensils. In spite of the dust and mysterious stains, the kitchen was surprisingly modern. For the next forty minutes, Art grilled hot dogs on a pan. He would roll them in grease, heat, and  then slip the weiners into buns, before putting them onto a cart. While he did this, Art caught glimpses through the kitchen door’s window. Frank stood in place as if he was a statue, never making a move or a sound. It wasn’t until the clock hit 7 that he began moving, and speaking.