Co-Workers

It's been nearly a year now. For most of that time, from midnight to sunrise, your nights have been filled with horror. Multiple times it's only by sheer luck that you've managed to survive. Many more times you've thought about quitting this job, that pits your life against an unbeatable enemy in a situation you don't understand.
Or at least a situation you don't fully understand. Yet.
Since you've started your employment at Fazbear Entertainment as the graveyard shift security, you've taken your time locked in a room to search for clues. Clues that have hinted at something much more horrifying than you had originally thought, if at all possible.  And honestly if you had told yourself a year ago what the potential truth was, you would think you were insane. Anyone would, really.
But the truth, as you understand it, is this: Some time ago the incident that had gotten this place shut down involving the murder of five children led to the spirits of those children haunting this pizzaria. Those spirits are bound to the animatronics that serve as the daytime entertainment, and at night they are looking for revenge against anyone associated with the company. And unfortunately that's you seemingly exclusively.
On top of that, alongside the supernatural influence, they seem to have a bug in their programming that causes them to see you as an unsuited endoskeleton. Since that's against company policy, they have tried to stuff you into a suit so that you follow the company dress code. You're no expert on machines, but you are almost 100% sure that getting stuffed inside would kill you if not fatally injure you. You already get minimum wage, and that's bad enough.
These two factors, the supernatural and technological, have combined so that these aren't really kids in suits. The animatronics have personalities born from a mixture of these two influences, much to your dismay. Trying to reach them as the missing kids has gotten you nowhere but dangerously close to "early termination" every time you've tried.
So you tried to get help from the suits above you...but bursting into an office ranting about killer robots and ghost kids has only made you a bit of a running joke to anyone not also in the grunt-work class. But since you were obviously stressed out at work, they decided to give you  a Casual Friday to relax with. God forbid they give you a raise, at least! Getting to eat all the cold pizza you want isn't worth it.
You really should quit, and have every reason to. But you want -no NEED- to help what's left of these poor kids. So tonight, aside from wearing something more comfortable, you have brought something else; another plan to reach them.
As midnight rolls around the lights start to flicker, meaning that they're on the move. Sure enough Bonnie and Chica are both active and in their usual spots. By "usual spots" you obviously mean "Slowly wandering around the building and casually making their way to your office to suit and/or kill you. This is fine, though. You've come to expect this much and would be worried if they didn't. Which is why a chill runs up your spine when about an hour later that exact thing happens. Not a single flicker in lights, not a ghastly stare through a doorway. Nothing.
You grip your tablet and sweep the entire building for their locations and your blood freezes. Where's Bonnie?
A purple hand closing over your mouth is the only answer you get. How did it get so close? The hand not covering your mouth spins you around in your chair, before gripping your shoulder. All the potential mistakes you could have made up to this point flash before your eyes, before they lock onto the unmoving gaze of the animatronic. You stare, and wait for an end that never comes.
Nearly a minute of this goes on, while your fear is slowly mixed with confusion, the hand on your shoulder moves to its mouth, raising a single digit to make a distinct "Shh" gesture.
Much too slowly, it backs away. The hand that covered your mouth being the last thing to leave your space, as it moves to close the door behind it. It pauses, staring at you, then past you to the door at your back. This thing isn't seriously asking you to close off your one and only escape route, right?
As it stares you down, it seems like the answer to that unasked question is an unspoken "Yes".
Your instincts are screaming, demanding you do the exact opposite of closing that door. The fact that you haven't bolted already is a testament to your apparent lack of survival instincts. But in the end you do get up, back up slowly towards the door, and close it with a resounding thud. You are now locked in the room with one of the things that has been trying to kill you.
Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your shirt is soaked through with cold sweat. Every muscle in your body tense and ready to crawl under whatever crack the door will have if you have to open it back up, before running for your life.
So when it grabs its own head with its hands you are more than a little confused. One of them moves further back, as if it's searching for something back there. It seems to find what it was looking for, as it you can hear a series of clicks, and the muffled sound of metal against metal. There seems to be a token moment of resistance before the head comes clean off its shoulders.
It lifts the head up like it were removing a helmet, exposing the endoskeleton beneath. A distinctly familiar, coppery, smell starts to fill the tiny space, and you notice patches of what you hope are rust here and there. You stare, and when it meets your gaze and returns it, you feel like you're the one in the wrong for it. In spite of yourself, you look away first. It carefully places the bunny head down, angling it so that now you have two unblinking sets of eyes on you.
Its hands return to its chest, flanking its little bowtie to clutch at the "collar" of the suit. Another series of clicks and whirring lets you know it's opening up. The entire chest opens forward, followed by the arms in a similar fashion. They seem to be hinged at the bottom. You notice that the inside of the suit has more patches of "rust" as well as more of it on the endoskeleton, where the joints meet. As if someone had tried to clean it up, but couldn't quite get everywhere. Afterwards the back falls away in a similar fashion, and the endoskeleton steps out of the suit as  if it wer a particularly stiff pair of slacks.
The suit unceremoniously collapses behind the endoskeleton that is no longer supporting it, while it takes its purple head in its hands again. Then silence of you locked in a room with a naked endoskeleton, the cloying scent of something you don't want to consiously acknowlege, and more tension than you though possible. You never realized quiet could be so loud.
In the silence, you take a few moments to look the endoskeleton over. The face is surprisingly skull-like for what it is, and the rest of the body was pretty bare-bones, which was pretty apt considering the skeletal appearance. There is a lot more discoloration on its legs than anywhere else, trapped in nearly every joint and lining the servos. Speaking of which, without the muffling of the suit you thougth they'd be louder than the dull whirring they made during movement. It's no wonder it got the drop on you when its components were so well maintained.
Seeming to be tired of your appraisal, it moves its hand to repeat the "Shhh" gesture again, before moving towards your desk. Or, you correct yourself, move to the space UNDER your desk. The head is gently laid down on one end of the cavity, and it lays its  head on it while lying down under your desk. The pose it assumes is probably as relaxed as it is possible to be while also being a machine. It almost looks comfortable, even.
And that's it. There's no high-pitched scream, no claws raking at  your skin, no pounding on the door while you desperately hope the power holds  out a little while longer. Just Bonnie's endoskeleton, you, and a heavy silence.
You spend the next hour watching the endoskeleton relaxing, while you slowly switch between full sweeps of the restaurant, and inching back to your chair. Eventually you need to open the doors to save power, but to your surprise and increased worry nobody else had come by for a while. Eventually you come to understand that this is something close to a truce...albeit one where you still won't get within a meter of the murderbot or drop your guard around it for more than a couple fo seconds. You do one more sweep, before eyeing the animatronc again.
Even in the dim lighting the parts that aren't "rusted" gleam in the light and show very little sign of wearing, which is impressive considering that its an older model. Or maybe less considering the supernatural side of things.  The glowing eyes draw your attention, and are bright enough to reflect a little off the metal sides of the inside of the desk. You almost want to see the others to know if this is the usual or if something else is up. When your examine its face again, you notice its eyes watching your, before flicking back up to stare at the underside of the desk. But speaking of questions...
You clear your throat, successfully gaining the endoskeleton's attention. Its entire head quickly turns towards you, and you do your best to keep the fear out of your voice. You barely succeed when you ask "Why are you really trying to kill me?"
It slowly turns to regard the underdesk again, before gesturing to itself before sharply pointing  at you. It repeats this two times until you fill in the blanks "'Because you are out of costume.'?", you ask. It nods, then pantomimes plucking something off its chest and holding it up to regard it. "'And you are a guard.'?". Another nod.
A light goes on in your head when you realized you just got a lead, and you cautiously ask "So does that mean a guard...did this to you and your friends?"
It seems to regard the question, before pointing to the bottom drawer of your desk, beore holding its hand out towards you. Curious, but still wary of getting within arms reach of the deady machine, you open the drawer. Inside is a small stack of paper, some crayons, and pencils. How did it know they were there? Were they leftovers from the previous guards? You move to ask but the animatronic has re-positioned to lay on its "stomach" and is making a very distinct "gimmie" motion with its outstretched hand. You concede and cautiously lay the items on the floor and slide them to it, reminding yourself to keep a better eye on it.
It takes the supplies and extracts a black crayon. You aren't sure why you expected it to pick purple but you find yourself a little disappointed. It seems to be doodling, with no real aim or direction to it. But the very child-like motions its legs make make you unwilling to interrupt it. It might even remember something if it keeps it up.
You go back to sweeping the store, watching as Chica meanders in and out of the kitchen more often than usual. It's no-
The lights flicker, and your entire body tenses up when you hear a very familiar laughing. Looking down at the naked animatronic, it's still drawing, having moved onto a fifth sheet of paper just then. You hastily scan over the cameras and your throat goes dry when your realize that Freddy has left the stage! Oh god where is he!? From the left side, a slow but steady set of footsteps can be heard approaching. Heavy, but quiet like someone large trying to sneak. You check the cameras one last time before moving to close the left door, only to find yourself face to face with the titular character himself.
Glowing eyes bore into yours as you find yourself unable to move. Your very breath catches in your throat, and you can almost taste the dusty scent that clings to the ursine animatronic. You stare at it, and it stares back, and then its eyes shift down and past you to the place where the endoskeleton is poking out from under the desk. Or at least where you assume it is; you aren't taking your eyes off of Freddy, as your hand creeps towards the door button. But as soon as your fingertips graze the edge, Freddy simply turns and walks away. Before rounding the corner, it spares one last look at you, only the glowing pinpricks of its eyes visible in the darkness before it either blinks or vanishes.
Behind you, the sound of a piece of paper being crumpled draws your attention and helps you regain control of your own body. You close the door, taking a moment to lament being so low in power when you still have a couple of hours left. When you check the cameras you see that Freddy has returned to his stage, although staring right into the camera and making you double check if the door is closed. Chica is still making the same odd rounds, and foxy has been staring down the camera in the cove for a while now.
Eyeing the ball of paper, you reach towards it, but are shocked when a bony metal hand closes over it faster than you can react. Blank eyes stare at you, and you think you get the message. You recall reading about temperamental artists before. And you are sure that, if this machine were ever inclined to practice, it could be an artist. While you would never call it a masterpiece, the drawings are fairly good for what they are.  You aren't sure why you're proud of that, but you are nonetheless.
 At around 5 in the morning it gets up, carefully relocating its head to the desk before slowly climbing back into the suit it had pointedly climbed out of earlier. Its naked endoskeleton eyes make contact with yours one last time, before donning the mascot head again. A much quicker series of clicks and whirring, followed by a heavy metallic thud, announce the head's reattachment to the rest of the suit and, assuredly, the endoskeleton.
After a moment of flexing and blinking, Bonnie seems satisfied that things are where they should be, and promptly leaves through the door it entered through. You're left there in the room with your thoughts, and a moment of silence. Your foot bumps against the papers it was using to draw on, and your eye is drawn to the crumpled up ball that Bonnie had guarded earlier. Your curiosity getting the best of you, you open it. Inside, it's one of those "My Fun Day" sheets they give the kids. The picture drawn shows The Endoskeleton in a kind of familiar room, with a kind of familiar guard. You notice that you can see a quickly drawn Freddy on the edge either flipping the bird or giving you a thumbs-up. Maybe both. Checking the cameras again, Chica has returned to the stage, and Freddy is no longer staring into the camera. You notice something off about the table in front of Chica, and it dawns on you a moment later: there's a relatively fresh pizza there! You can make out the fresh grease around the edges of teh plate and everything! An offering of peace, you think. The sight gives you hope. You've learned a lot today, and maybe if you can talk to the others like thi-
A sharp knock derails your train of thought, and nearly makes you jump out of your skin, as your attention is drawn to the window. Outside, staring in, is Bonnie. And it's carrying something in its  hands.  The empty Freddy head stares back at you through the window, while the holder of it points between you, the head, and back to you.  You think you get the message.
"'Don't get used to it. Back to the usual tomorrow.', right?"
Bonnie nods, before returning to the stage. You check the clock: it's Saturday 6am.