Knight of Thulliver

Darkness pervaded the restaurant. Fritz could tell. It was suffocating. Oppressive. On each camera he couldn't see anything more than five feet away from the lens. Was it his mind? The lack of air conditioning was known to play games with guards' nerves. But Fritz dismissed the idea. The darkness pulsated. He could see..things. Things moved around inside it, and the animatronics were never in the darkness themselves. They always stood within the five feet circle cast by the restaurant's lighting. That's what bothered him. They were never in the shadows; never hiding. They were up close and confident. The reports and urban legends he'd heard spoke of stealthy, silent monstrosities that would lurk in the abyss. These bots? Certainly not the same. Fritz Smith could tell that much, even if he had been drinking a little before the shift.

Fritz felt a gnawing numbness around his eyelids. A weariness. Eventually, he felt an itch in his brain. He heard a siren go off. He wasn't sure what it meant. Did he screw up? It was loud. Frustrating. It wasn't TOO obnoxious- no, it was relatively muffled. More like a ringing.

Who was that standing in his hallway? His flashlight revealed a mask, and a figure bearing it. The mask was eery. It bore  red lips, with red, rosy cheeks. Two black slits for eyeholes peered out at him on an eroded face. It was the color of spoiled milk. Not quite white, but not quite yellow either. It was a nauseating medium between the two colors. A tinny tune rattled from the hallway. If Fritz was more sober, he might have been able to place a name to the jingle. When the jingle ended, the mask leaped out at Fritz.

Fritz wasn't sure where he was. He didn't feel anything, so he couldn't grope around for something to touch, or even gauge where his fingertips and the rest of his hand was. If he could, he would know that part of him was on a table while the other parts of him were being crammed into a suit. For example, half his head was inside a Freddy helmet. His brain had ample room in the endoskeleton skull, though the rest of his human skull wasn't quite so fortunate. It was practically pulverized between the accented cheekbones of the robot, and the breathing room (or the lack thereof) allowed by Freddy's brown fabric cheeks.

The pain would soon be over, though. Fritz would stumble around, confused and still intoxicated in the morning (locked up in the backroom, of course), before Freddy's clean-up crew arrived. By clean-up crew, we are referring to Toy Bonnie and Mangle, of course. Mangle's more exotic anatomy allowed her to get around Freddy Smith and take him apart quicker. Bonnie would help him, grabbing Mr. Smith's legs and initiating a drawing and quartering session. Both legs and both arms were soon taken apart and stowed away, in a cardboard box, while Fritz' head was left on a shelf, as per the usual. He seemed too confused to understand what was happening, gibbering madly as most humans do while his torso was taken away and stuffed into the closet. At least, that's what Toy Bonnie thought. She couldn't make heads or tails of what Fritz was going on about, even as she put him on the shelf. Rent money? Happen to me? He should really stop muttering so much and learn to project his voice.