Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gregory was running away. Again.

His raggedy sneakers pounded on the pavement, what little possessions he had were stuffed into a backpack and bounced against his back.

He never stayed at any foster home for long. Maybe a year at most. Usually less. They always sent him away eventually, or he’d save them the trouble and run away himself.

It’d been nearly two weeks since he had left his latest foster home, the longest he’d ever gone without social service or the police finding him and dragging him back. Now, especially, he couldn’t, wouldn’t risk being caught and sent back to his last home. They’d have to drag him by his ankles to get him to go back there. But he didn’t have to worry about that, he would be smarter, faster, he wouldn’t get caught.

Honestly, why did they even bother to go looking for him anyway? Gregory scowled at the ground as he ran. The foster parents didn’t care about him, the social workers were tired of him, and he certainly didn’t want to be shuffled from horrible house to slightly-less-horrible house. Wouldn’t it be better for everybody involved if they just left him alone? He could take care of himself. He didn’t need any stupid adults ruining everything.

His first few days on the street this time around had been typical. Scavenging for food and avoiding detection by day and finding an alleyway to curl up in at night. Despite having a small statue (seriously, other kids always made fun of him for looking much younger than his 11 years), he made it for it in attitude. He had perfected his glare, and had a tendency to turn to physical conflict to resolve issues (he was known to bite other kids if they messed with him.) So people tended to steer clear of him, which was fine by him. Everything was going perfectly fine.

That is, until he saw the posters.

He was just leaving a gas station after using the public bathroom to awkwardly give his hair a wash in the sink, when he was met by his own face grinning back up at him from a poster on an electricity pole. It was captioned “MISSING. HAVE YOU SEEN ME?” and had a phone number listed below. He recognized that photo of him; and he knew who took it. There was only one person who cared about him enough to put up those posters. His best and only friend; Cassie. The only person who had ever looked at him with something other than thinly-veiled contempt. (Well, her and maybe her dad. He was… fine… as far as adults went.)

This wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared, so Cassie would’ve figured out what happened when he never showed up for their next chatroom session. But she’d never put out posters before. Granted, he’d never been “missing” for this long, either. His heart gave a guilty squeeze. He hated making her worry about him, but he had no way of contacting her. That was another thing he had to leave behind.

Sometimes when he ran away he’d seek refuge at Cassie’s house for a couple hours, maybe even the night. He could never stay long without her dad—understandably so— asking questions. Cassie, of course, knew that he was an orphan foster kid with a less-than-stellar reputation. More than once she’d tried to convince him to stowaway at her house. But Gregory knew Cassie’s dad was an honest person, and if he found out he’d surely send him back to the social workers, so he’d always refused. It was easier that way, he didn’t want to be a burden to her.

He tore his gaze from the poster and looked out over the neighbourhood. If he started walking right now, he could be on her doorstep in less than 15 minutes. He would see her relieved smile and they would spend the afternoon talking and playing games and— He sighed and ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. No, he wouldn’t. He had to keep moving. He ripped the poster off the pole and shoved it into his backpack. Maybe in a couple weeks or so when things died down he could use the number and contact her to let her know that he was OK and swear her to secrecy.

That was why he was making his way out of the city, to somewhere without the posters tacked up on every corner and where the local social workers didn’t know him at first glance. Maybe once he got far enough away he could hitchhike and start a new life as a farmhand in rural Arizona, or something, like he'd seen some boys do on some old TV shows. Anything would be better than going back to foster care. Or I could run off and join the circus. He snorted. He’d been called ‘crazy’ enough over his life that he’d fit right in.

Owning no watch or phone, he had no way of knowing the time. The moon had been up for quite some time, so he figured it was midnight or later. He slowed to a brisk walk and deliberated on where to stop for the night. He was far enough from the centre of town that the office buildings and apartment complexes had long since been replaced by trees and only the odd house lined the highway. He glanced around at his options and shrugged. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d sleep in a tree.

At least, he thought to himself as he carefully scaled the rough bark, the early-September evenings weren’t too cold yet. He settled himself in the crook of the tree where a sturdy branch met the trunk. A fraying grey sweatshirt he pulled out of his pack acted as a blanket and his backpack made for a lumpy but acceptable pillow. The night was quiet. Hardly a cloud in the sky and he was far enough from town that the stars were plainly visible and not obscured by light pollution. He stared at the stars through the canopy of leaves above him, lost in thought. He didn’t need a foster family, he’d make his own life on his own. Away from all the disappointed stares, away from the town where his parents died. Away from Cassie.

With an owl faintly hooting in the distance the sounds of the highway down below as his lullaby, Gregory drifted off to sleep. He ignored the stupid tear that rolled down his cheek.

THUMP.

Gregory was rudely woken by him falling out of the tree. Luckily, a bush cushioned his fall. Unluckily, it was a thorn bush, and now he was covered in scrapes.

He fumbled his way out of the bush with a groan and rubbed his face. When he pulled his hand away, it was smeared with blood. Aw, heck. His cheek was bleeding. Plopping back down onto the mossy forest floor, he dug around in his backpack for some wipes and scrubbed at the worst of his cuts on his cheek and knee, wincing at the sting, then patched them up. He was a bit of a... reckless kid, so he always made sure to have some bandaids on hand.

After that was done, he pulled the last of his food reserves out of his bag—a sleeve of pop-tarts he’d swiped from the pantry before he ran away— and settled down on the mossy carpet to enjoy his breakfast. He’d worry about where his next meal would come from later. Right now, he’d enjoy the serenity of the morning. It was a cool, misty sort of morning. The silence broken only by the birds chirping their early-morning melodies and the occasional car thundering down the highway. Gregory liked quiet, secluded places like this.

As peaceful as it was, Gregory didn’t like to stay in one place too long. It made him antsy. He noticed he had been bouncing his leg—something he did a fair bit, much to his teachers’ chagrin—and quickly stopped, to conserve his energy. With a sigh and a stretch of his arms, he shoved his empty pop-tart wrapper back into his bag, (he may be a delinquent, but he still refused to litter,) and slung it back on his back, resuming his aimless journey.

He followed the highway. Not close enough for cars to spot him, but still kept it in his peripheral. Now that he wasn’t in town, he didn’t feel the need to rush anymore, and took his time traipsing through the underbrush. It didn’t help that his hand-me-down shoes were too large for him and quite literally falling apart at the seams.

Gregory had a decent grasp on direction. If he remembered correctly, he’d been heading southwest-ish, but with the thick mist of the morning obscuring the sun he had no idea if he was still heading that direction. With his luck, he could be walking off and get lost in the woods and eaten by a wolf or an alligator or something. Or worse, he could have gotten turned around and was heading back towards town.

He decided to walk back towards the road, and look for a road sign to reorient himself. Plus, the sign would also be able to tell him how far away from town he’d gotten. Upon making it to the edge of the highway, though, the first sign that materialised out of the fog was not a green road sign, but an oversized and eye-catchingly colorful billboard featuring a familiar cast of characters. “COME VISIT FREDDY FAZBEAR’S MEGA PIZZAPLEX! Only 5 miles this way!”

A grin split his weary face.

Gregory had been to the Pizzaplex before. You couldn’t live in Hurricane without having been. It was the place for birthday parties. Of course, Gregory hadn’t been invited to many birthday parties, and he’d certainly never had a party of his own there. Still, he had fond memories of his couple trips there. After all, it was where he and Cassie first became friends.

Food. Warmth. Fun. Gregory continued his trek with renewed energy. It’s not like he had anything better he needed to do today. He’d sneak in, grab some food, maybe play a few games while he’s there. What’s the worst that could happen?

Chapter Text

Two hours of walking later, the building came into view. You couldn’t exactly miss it. Multi-million square feet of fantasy, fun, and food. It was a concrete behemoth. People always wondered why they built it out here, instead of back in town or even in a larger city like Salt Lake or Vegas.

It’s true that Fazbear Entertainment had been a staple of Hurricane for over 50 years, but still, it seemed like an odd decision revenue-wise.

Then again, Gregory thought as he stepped into the parking lot, it wasn’t exactly struggling for customers. The place was packed . Families of all sizes and age ranges flocked towards the front entrance. Cars driven by frazzled parents weaved through the crowd of vehicles and people, each silently fighting each other for a parking space closer to the building, with more cars flooding in the lot by the minute. It wasn't even a weekend, either.

Getting in was easy, you didn’t need to pay to enter the lobby (where the gift shops were, of course.)

Getting past the turnstiles to enter the Pizzaplex proper was a breeze, too. Gregory was pretty small for his age, so it was easy enough to duck under the turnstile bar, cloaked by the crowd of parents trying to wrangle their kids through.

And just like that, he was in.

Gregory had never had so much fun, or freedom, in his whole life.

He spent the whole day bouncing around the Pizzaplex. Getting high scores on as many arcade games as he could (he discovered a little trick where if you jiggled the cabinet just right it triggered the coin slot and let you play for free), swiping abandoned pizza whenever he got hungry, even finding a rogue party pass on the ground and playing a round of Fazer Blast.

He let himself get lost in the dazzle of the Pizzaplex. It was the kinda place where he could forget about everything and just be a regular kid for the day.

Eventually he realised he had lost all track of time, and had no idea what time it could be, with having no watch and the building having minimal windows, until he heard the intercom.

   “Just 15 minutes until our 10pm Glamrock concert! Please make your way towards the main stage if you wish to watch, as space is limited and fills up fast! Once again, only 15 minutes until…”

That late already? He wondered in surprise. The day practically flew by! He didn’t want it to be over yet… So why did it? He considered this for a moment. He had nowhere to be; no curfew to follow…

So with a grin and a bubble of excitement blooming in his chest, he followed the crowd to the front of the Atrium.

The excitement was palpable. Hundreds of excited kids and adults alike clustered around the stage expectantly, doused in the neon lights which filled every corner of the Pizzaplex.

Gregory couldn’t help but smile, too. Normally, he would be long in bed by now, and he’d never seen Freddy perform on stage before!

The fluorescent lights dimmed, the stage filled with artificial smoke.

  “ Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Fazbear Entertainment would like you to put your hands together for the one… the only… FREDDY FAZBEAR!”

He was swept up in a cacophony of noise. The excitedly screaming audience, the thrumming bass from Montgomery Gator, the melodic keytar of Roxanne Wolf, the rich guitar chords from Chica, and Freddy’s powerful, up-beat vocals.

Gregory was, frankly, starstruck. Freddy was his favourite. He was so cool! And he was seeing him perform, live!

The lights, the sounds, it was all so much! Usually Gregory hated so much stimulation. But instead of shying away from the excitement, he embraced it. He jumped and screamed the lyrics along with the band just the same as any other kid there.

He was perfectly happy.

And he should have known it wouldn’t last.

Right in the middle of a song, Freddy abruptly froze, and seemed to stare directly at Gregory .

If it was any other scenario, Gregory would have been thrilled to be noticed by Freddy Fazbear himself. But… something didn’t feel right. He anxiously tried to shrink back into the sea of people. Does Freddy know I’m not supposed to be here? He wondered with a jolt of panic. Did the animatronics have, like, sensors that could tell if a guest wasn’t registered?

Before Gregory could decide if he wanted to make a run for it, Freddy’s singing stopped. He twitched violently, and fell over with a horrible CLANG.

The other Glamrocks stopped playing, Chica rushed over to Freddy’s aid.

Then pandemonium ensued.

Kids crying, parents whispering to each other in bewilderment, teens raising their phones above the crowd trying to record it, and above it all the intercom trying to tell everybody to “please remain calm, Freddy seems to be feeling tired tonight! Please make your way towards the main entrance…”

The security bots seemed to go on high-alert, too. Beginning to round everybody up and out.

Oh, crap.

Gregory suddenly remembered a safety protocol the Pizzaplex had. Children under 13 had to be checked in and out of the building with an adult. It had to be the same adult, too, to avoid any—how did they put it?—“unwanted incidents.”

This was a problem, as Gregory snuck in, meaning that he wasn’t registered with an adult, and security must be checking everyone’s guest profiles closely after such an emergency.

If Gregory tried to leave now, he’d certainly be caught. Not only would social services be called, could he get in trouble with the authorities for trespassing, too?

He frantically racked his brain for a solution, and his eyes fell on a baby stroller.

It was a tight fit, and not for the first time that day he was glad that he was small for his age.

The stroller was covered, but it had a mesh window allowing him to watch his surroundings.

His plan was to wait here until all the guests had left, then slip out after hours when nobody would be checking guest profiles. Should be simple enough.

He watched as the other Glamrock animatronics retreated backstage and the last of the guests were ushered out of the atrium.

He’d been hiding for around 10 minutes when he heard a woman’s voice walk past.  “Ugh, I can’t believe this. I need to go find someone from Parts and Service to come take a look at Freddy. STAFF bots, keep patrolling the atrium until I come back. There’s been an unregistered kid sneaking around. Notify me if you see anything.”

Gregory’s heart stopped. A security guard knew he was here, and she was looking for him.

Through the mesh window, he could already see staff bots checking under the tables, inside the photo booths… and lifting the canopies of the abandoned strollers.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap! He’d have to make a run for it.

But to where? Backwards to the elevators were out, as the lobby was where he was trying to avoid in the first place. Fazer Blast or any of the other attractions were out, too, as bots were still standing sentry outside of each asking for Party Passes. That left forwards, to the stage.

He waited until the bots closest to him were looking away, then he sprang out of the stroller and ran, without stopping to think about what he’d do next.

The STAFF bots weren’t the brightest, clearly. They didn’t seem to be alerted by sound, and Gregory managed to sprint the forty or so yards to the stage without setting one off.

Great. Awesome. He thought. But now what? It was a dead end from here.

He was only a few feet away from where Freddy still laid on the ground after his little freak-out during the show. Gregory had never been this close to Freddy before, and it made him kinda sad to see him this way. Freddy was his favourite.

That’s when he had, without a doubt, his stupidest idea yet.

Freddy had a stomach hatch where he could carry cakes or stuff for birthday parties, right?

They would never think to check inside Freddy.

He crawled over, digging his fingers into a seam into the animatronic’s chest and tugged. Nothing.

Gregory panicked. The security guard would probably be back any minute.

In a fit of desperation, he banged on Freddy’s bowtie with his fist. The hatch popped open with a whoosh, causing Gregory to stumble backwards in surprise.

Leaning back over, he gauged the size of the cavity. It was around the same size as the stroller, but there were a bunch of wires and metal beams jutting out.

But he had no other choice, and cautiously lowered himself in, pulling the hatch closed behind him.

His knees were up to his chin and his arms were bent and pinned to his sides uncomfortably, but he was inside.

Not a moment too soon either, as he soon heard the authoritative voice of the security guard, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Footsteps approached Freddy, and Gregory held his breath.

  “He just started twitching and fell over,” The security guard said. “Take him down to Parts and Service, would you? See if you can figure out what malfunctioned and fix it.”

  “Uh, sure, Officer Vanessa,” A male voice replied. It sounded oddly familiar, but Gregory couldn’t place it, especially not while muffled through the hatch.

  “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a situation I need to deal with. See you at the staff party later.” It sounded like a statement, not an inquiry.

He heard the security guard, Vanessa, storm away.

  “Man, Freddy, what happened to you?” The man asked, and gave a low whistle. “Looks like I’ve gotta take you to Parts and Service on my own.”

He began dragging Freddy— with Gregory still inside.

   Shoot, what was I thinking? Now I’m trapped! Gregory thought, dismayed, and began rehearsing an excuse in his head to tell the technician dude when he inevitably was discovered.

He thought about those dumb games inspired by the old Freddy’s restaurants, he'd played them a couple times before. Maybe he could plead it was a situation like the “Funtimes,” and that Freddy kidnapped him in his stomach.

But no, those were just hoaxes, they’d never believe him. Or worse, if they did believe him, it could get Freddy scrapped.

He’d have to come up with something else, he sighed internally.

Freddy stopped moving, then the ground began to vibrate.

   We must be going down the stage lift! If he wasn’t so terrified, Gregory would have been ecstatic at the thought of being backstage.

A moment later, the shaking stopped, and Freddy was dragged onto… some sort of trolley, maybe? Gregory hated being trapped in the darkness of the chest cavity, unaware of his surroundings.

The trolley rattled along, the technician humming the Pizzaplex theme tune as they went.

They stopped again, and Freddy was awkwardly and with great difficulty lifted off whatever he’d been carted on onto another surface.

How the technician didn’t realise Freddy was an extra 70 pounds, Gregory had no idea. Maybe the guy was new?

He heard a sound like pistons whooshing around him and a faint thud, then an electronic voice boomed, “Running servo diagnostics. Please stand by.”

   Please don’t open up the hatch please don’t open up the hatch please don’t open up the hatch, Gregory prayed silently.

He heard a deep humming noise. The wires inside Freddy began to glow brightly, and it started becoming uncomfortably warm.

But just as quickly as it started, it stopped.

  “Servo diagnostics complete. No issues found,” The intercom stated.

The technician muttered something, but Gregory couldn’t hear what.

  “Commencing reboot. Initiating ‘Safe Mode’ This may take a moment.” The intercom cut in again.

Thankfully, the reboot didn’t cause any further discomfort in the chest cavity, just a faint high-pitched hum coming from the direction of Freddy’s head.

  “Reboot complete. You may now enter the protective cylinder.”

Gregory couldn’t believe his luck. The technician didn’t find him. He took Freddy out of whatever repair thingy they’d been in, back onto a cart, and this time up a ramp. They stopped, Gregory heard a ding , and the Pizzaplex jingle started playing. They were in a regular elevator, then, not the back up the stage lift.

  “I know you’re in there, kid.”

Gregory jumped, banging his head on a protruding metal crossbeam of Freddy’s endoskeleton. Shoot. I’m done for.

  “I don’t know who you are or what your deal is, but don’t worry, I won’t tell,” The technician continued, and he didn’t seem angry. “Vanessa gives me the creeps too. It’s like she has eyes everywhere in this place.”

Gregory stayed silent, confused. 

The ding of the elevator reaching its destination broke the silence, and Gregory could feel the cart moving again.

  “Listen, this elevator spits us out right behind Freddy’s room. I’ll leave you in there and pretend I never saw you. If you haven’t noticed already, you can’t open that hatch from the inside, so you’re stuck in there until Freddy powers back on. Once that happens, get his attention to let you out.” He deposited Freddy on to something squishy. A chair? “Just make sure you get out by midnight. You don’t want to be here after hours, trust me. Good luck, kiddo.”

And with that cryptic message, the technician walked off, and Gregory could hear a door shut behind him.

Chapter Text

How long it had been since he was left in Freddy’s room, Gregory had no idea. It could have been five minutes or it could have been half an hour. All he knew was the pressing darkness of Freddy’s chest cavity and the 12:00 a.m. deadline set by the technician steadily encroaching.

Suddenly, the wires inside of Freddy began glowing again—like they did during the repair—accompanied by the sounds of pistons whooshing and various metallic parts squeaking. Then Freddy stood up.

  “Showtime already?” Freddy’s voice boomed from directly above Gregory. “I am experiencing a malfunction. The recharge cycle is not complete.”

Gregory cringed at the volume of Freddy’s voice, and figured this was as good a time as any to make his presence known. “Shh! Will you shut up?!”

  Dammit, he didn’t mean to sound so rude.

  “Who said that?” Freddy asked, confused.

  “I-I did! I’m down here!”

  “Down where?” He could hear the subtle creaks of Freddy’s head looking around. “I still do not see you.”

Gregory took a deep breath before answering. “Ok, look… you were sleeping, so I opened the stomach hatch and climbed inside.”

  “My stomach hatch?” Freddy gasped. “That place is reserved for oversized birthday cakes and piñatas! It is not a safe play area!”

He finally opened his stomach hatch. Gregory winced at the brightness after being in the dark for so long and stumbled out

Freddy grabbed him under the shoulders and picked him up, despite Gregory’s surprised squeak. “There you are!” A blue beam came out of his eyes and washed over Gregory. “Scanning complete. How odd. Your guest profile is unknown to me. Who are you?” He lowered him back to the floor gently.

  Should he give Freddy his name? Gregory wondered. Surely his name wasn’t too uncommon. There’d have to be plenty of kids with the same name come through the Pizzaplex before. It shouldn’t be enough information for Freddy to recognize him as a missing person. Did Freddy even have access to outside knowledge like that? He realised that he’d just been staring blankly while he thought. “I-I’m Gregory.” He answered hesitantly, intimidated by Freddy’s piercing stare.

  “Gregory… I will notify the main office.” He looked away. “Hmm, connection error. I cannot connect to the main network.”

  Cannot connect to the main network? That seemed like a bad issue for the headliner animatronic to have. And he’d just had maintenance! Gregory remembered what the technician had said. “It’s her,” He thought out loud. “She cut you off. She’s not gonna let you call for help until she finds me.”

  “Who? Who is looking for you? Your mother?”

A noise drew Gregory’s attention. He froze. “Shh! I hear footsteps!”

He shuffled over towards the window at the front of Freddy’s room and peeked out through a crack in the curtains.

  “That is the security guard. She can help!” Freddy said from behind him.

Gregory whirled around to face him. “No! No, I don’t trust her.”

  “Why not?”

  “I… have my reasons,” he replied vaguely. “Isn’t there any way for you to communicate with me besides talking so loudly?”

  “Hmm,” Freddy considered that. “Take this. It’s a novelty Freddy Fazwatch.”

He opened his chest hatch to reveal a perfectly wrapped gift box that definitely wasn’t in there a minute ago, but Gregory took it without questioning. He had bigger things to worry about.

He unwrapped the watch and examined it. It was one of those digital watches that could track steps, play music, send-and-receive messages, and much more, in addition to telling the time, of course. Surprisingly complex for a novelty gadget. These things cost, like, hundreds of dollars. And Freddy was giving it to him?

Suddenly the watch beeped. “What was that?” He dropped it in surprise.

  “I am sending you an encoded message,” Freddy replied.

Gregory picked the watch back up, slightly embarrassed at how jumpy he was.

Sure enough, inside his inbox tab was a voice message from Freddy.

  “Hello Gregory. It is me, Freddy! I will escort you to the main entrance. However, I am unable to leave this room. You should have no problem. There is a button on the wall that will open the door to the back room. I will make it accessible to you now.”

Gregory found the aforementioned button (it was Freddy-shaped, because of course it was) on the back wall partially hidden behind an arcade cabinet. The door opened to a dark supply room.

  “Well done Gregory. There is an open air vent inside the maintenance room. You will have to climb through the system and release me from the outside,” Freddy informed him.

Gregory stepped into the room. “I-it’s pretty dark in there,” He said, surveying the dimly-lit storage area behind Freddy’s room. Get a grip, Gregory! He chastised himself.

  “There is nothing to be scared of. You can do it.” Freddy said kindly.

Well, that settled it. I won’t let Freddy down, Gregory told himself, and climbed up a pile of boxes into the unknown void of the air vent.

The vent was small, maybe two or three feet tall. He had to crawl, and every bump of his knees on the aluminium seemed to echo like thunder in the silence. He slowed, hearing something up ahead. The ventilation system must connect to each of the green rooms in Rockstar Row, he realised, as through a grate he could into Roxanne Wolf’s room, and… was she talking to herself in the mirror?

  “Your performance was perfect tonight!” She purred to her reflection. “Thank you! Your hair is beautiful! Your tail is beautiful! Everyone was watching you! Everyone loves you! You are the best! Thank you. I am the best. I am the best.”

Gregory turned to continue down the vent, but before he could, Roxy’s next words caused his blood to run cold. “In fact, your fans are watching you right now. I know.”

He nope’d outta there as fast as he could.

The next room was too dark to see in, or maybe the vent was boarded up? In any case whoever—or whatever— was in there was not happy. It sounded like they were throwing stuff around and tearing it apart, then he heard a growl. Was that Monty…?

He didn’t think Monty should be allowed to act like that, wouldn’t it scare the other kids?  

Continuing on, he caught a glimpse of Chica in her room jamming out on her guitar. At least one of the other animatronics wasn't acting odd.

Finally he made it to the end of the vent, and carefully jumped the few feet down to the ground. Crouching behind a display case, he got a good look at where he ended up. He was in the main part of Rockstar Row, on the opposite end of where Freddy’s room was. The security guard didn’t seem to be around, so he was about to sprint his way to Freddy when the intercom cut on over the speakers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for visiting and we hope you enjoyed the show! Freddy and the gang are pretty tired but they'll be back again next week after a few days of scheduled maintenance! Please make your way to the front of the building where you will be given novelty glasses, a voucher for one free soda refill and where you will sign a legal disclaimer releasing us of all liability for anything that might have happened during your visit. Have an awesome night and we'll see you again soon!”

  Yeah, yeah, whatever. He hardly paid attention to any of that. Out of curiosity, he checked his watch. It was 11:30pm, still half an hour until closing.

So why were there no people around?

Did they evacuate the entirety of the Pizzaplex, not just the atrium where the stage was? Was Freddy’s malfunction serious enough to warrant that?

   Whatever, Gregory thought. It’s not my problem. I just need to get Freddy and go.

He dashed over to Freddy’s room and pulled on the door. It wouldn’t budge. “The stupid door won’t open,” He whined.

Freddy spoke through the door, “Oh? You are going to need a Photo Pass to open the door. Apologies, I assumed you had one already… Well, you should be able to find one at a convenience counter.”

Gregory had to backtrack to the over end of Rockstar Row where the convenience counter was, and where he found a cardboard standee of the band which advertised “Free photo pass!”

He grabbed the pass from the gift box and ran back to Freddy quickly.

The pass slid into a slot on the door and opened it with ease, Gregory flinched when he saw Freddy standing right there on the other side. Dang, these guys are big up close.

  “Way to go superstar! I knew you could do it!” Freddy praised him with a smile.

Gregory gave an awkward grin. He wasn’t used to compliments, and certainly not ones from animatronic bears. “I only opened a door…” he mumbled.

  “I know how to get you out of here,” Freddy continued. “Climb back into my chest cavity. There is still time but we must hurry, if I am spotted I will certainly be taken back to my room. I will escort you to the main exit through the utility tunnels, it is the safest path.”

Gregory hesitated, but only for a second. “Okay… But you better be careful moving around. I don’t wanna be crushed and twisted into a meat pretzel.”

Freddy, with Gregory inside, made their way into the utility tunnels. Luckily, Freddy was able to connect his ocular system to Gregory’s Fazwatch, so he could see what Freddy saw.

A voice floated up the stairwell in front of them. “Hello? Little boy? If you’re down here, say something!”

Crap, it was the security guard. “She’s down here, we have to go back!” Gregory whispered, panicked.

  “Do not worry Gregory.” Freddy spoke reassuringly. “Even if we are spotted, you are safe with me. She would never suspect we are travelling together. However, we should still do our best to avoid her. If I am sent back to my room, we will never get back to the lobby before midnight.”

   There it is again, Gregory thought. What happens at midnight?

They continued down into the tunnels, then Freddy stopped. “I feel you are broken,” he said.

Gregory frowned. What did Freddy mean? Then he noticed his knee, bleeding. Oh. He must have scraped it in the vent and didn’t realise. Adrenaline can be one heck of a drug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine .” He would deal with it later.

  “No, I feel that something is wrong. I am taking you to the first aid station.”

  “There’s no time! I’m fine!” Gregory protested.

Freddy ignored him and clunked through the tunnels to a dingy little curtained first aid station tucked in a corner.

He forced Gregory inside with a “ Shh! ” And shoved the curtain closed.

   Hey! What—! Gregory’s internal protests were interrupted by an angry voice coming from right outside the curtain.

  “FREDDY! You’re supposed to be on lockdown!”

  “Officer Vanessa! I-I do not know how I got here!” Freddy stammered awkwardly.

  “Well, you totally blew it tonight you know. Your systems crashed and you ruined the show. Now Parts and Service have you on reduced power. They said it’s a ‘safety precaution’,” Vanessa huffed, sweeping her bangs out of her face. “Ok, look… we’re like fifteen minutes from closing and some kid is sneaking around backstage. If you see anything, notify me immediately. I already alerted the others. Now go back to your room! ” She turned on her heel and marched away.

Gregory waited until the sounds of her footsteps faded away and flung open the curtain. “You heard her coming, didn’t you?” He realised, letting out a chuckle of gratitude. “That’s why you forced me to hide!”

  “Indeed. But I said nothing, I will keep you safe,” Freddy replied. “However, we should tend to your knee before we continue.”

They hadn’t been walking for very long when Freddy stopped again. “I am terribly sorry. The recharge cycle had not yet completed when I found you. You must continue without me. I will guide you on your Fazwatch.” He opened his hatch to let Gregory out and clambered inside the nearby recharge pod.

   What? No! Gregory’s stomach dropped. “But… I don’t know if I can do this alone!” He whispered.

Not only did he have to sneak past a garbage-eating Chica, he then got chased by all three of the other band members and cornered in a security office that was rapidly losing power , and had to find a safe path out.

In the back of his head he wondered why the animatronics were chasing him. Clearly the security guard—Vanessa—was behind it, as she said she’d “already alerted the others.”

But what would happen if they caught him? Most likely, they’d bring him to Vanessa. Or… No, they can’t harm guests, right?

Whatever the case, Gregory didn’t want to find out.

By the time he made it to the main entrance, sleeping on the streets almost sounded enticing. He was only about twenty yards from the doors when he heard a metallic clanging noise, accompanied by the intercom overhead: “Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex is now closed. Initiating nighttime protocols.”

Gregory sprinted to the doors, but it was no use. He watched helplessly as heavy-duty metal shutters rolled down over the doors, coming to rest at the floor with a CLANG of finality .

  “No! No! Wait, I’m still here!” He sank to his knees, the realisation dawning. This is why the technician warned me to leave by midnight.

He was trapped there until morning.

Chapter Text

Gregory was crouched between a sofa and the wall, with his head tucked in his arms, trying not to panic. Now what am I supposed to do?

  “How unfortunate Gregory,” Freddy said through the watch. "You missed your chance but there is still hope. You should be able to escape when the security doors reopen at 6:00 a.m. Until then, keep moving and try not to draw attention to yourself, there is another way out. I will help you find it. I promise.”

Okay… okay.

He had plenty of experience sneaking out of places. He could just think of this as a highly secure and exceptionally large house.

He made a list of steps in his head. First, he needed to get back to Freddy. To do that he needed to get back past the turnstiles and into the lobby, and to do that he needed to find another complementary entry pass. He could try to sneak under the turnstiles, but he wasn’t sure how tight security was and didn’t want to risk it, so the legit way it was.

Freddy spoke again as soon as he passed the turnstiles. “Well done, superstar. You have accessed the Lobby. Unfortunately, that complementary entry ticket does not allow you to enter the pizzeria. You should be able to find an upgrade machine in Customer Service.”

  “Got it,” Gregory replied. “Hey, how do you know where I am, anyways?”

  “I am able to track your location on your Fazwatch.”

Gregory halted in his tracks. What?! “Can the other animatronics track me too?”

  “No,” Freddy paused, as if considering what to say. “I have added some… modifications to your watch. Naturally, a regular Fazwatch is not able to communicate directly with me nor check security cameras. But do not worry, only I should be able to track you.”

“Should” isn’t very promising, Gregory thought, although he was glad to have somebody watching his back.

He examined the entry ticket as he walked. “Huh. Freddy, the ticket is also good for one free prize from Glamrock Gifts!”

  “Ooh!” Freddy exclaimed. “I wonder what it could be?”

BANG!

Gregory had accidentally walked right into a security bot, who started blaring an alarm.

He cursed himself for getting distracted, and wriggled out of the bot’s grasp

  “Lost boy over here!” A high-pitched feminine voice called from behind him.

Crap, Chica was here, too?!

He ran for the escalators, taking the steps two at a time. Then he tripped, his foot catching on the heel of his other sneaker, and he bashed his chin off the steps. When he looked back, he saw that the sole had got ripped right off of his worn-out sneaker. Chica took this as an opportunity to catch up.

  “I’m taking you to your parents!” She told him cheerfully and gripped Gregory’s arm, digging in her metallic talons.

Gregory yelped in pain and fear and kicked her in the chest, sending her tumbling headlong back down the escalator.

He ran, not looking back to see if he’d damaged her. He made it into Glamrock Gifts and dropped behind a counter. He took deep breaths and tried to wince back the tears forming in his eyes. That’s when he noticed the beads of blood forming on his arm where Chica grabbed him. He stared, almost disbelieving.

The animatronics can’t hurt guests.

  “Freddy,” Gregory tried to hide the panic in his voice. “I-I’m in Glamrock Gifts. Chica attacked me and my shoes fell apart. What do I do?”

  “Chica attacked you?” Freddy asked, incredulous. “You must be mistaken. We cannot harm a guest, it goes against our programming.”

  Of course he doesn’t believe me. Nobody ever does. Gregory thought, his heart sinking.

Freddy continued unaware of Gregory’s internal despondency. “While you’re there, you should check out the free prize! And you should pick out a new pair of sneakers as well. Free of charge, I will not tell. Then make your way to a convenience counter.”

That cheered him up a bit. He picked out a flashy pair of red and electric-blue Freddy-themed velcro sneakers, throwing his old ones in the nearest trash can.

In addition to being well-worn, his old sneakers had also been too large for him.

It felt great wearing shoes that actually fit, and weren’t hand-me-downs from another kid or the thrift store.

Down on the first floor of the gift shop, he found the “free gift.”

Gregory picked it up and frowned. “Uh… it’s a dumb Mr. Hippo fridge magnet? Lame.”

He pocketed it anyways, he’d take what he could get.

  “I’m sorry, Gregory, I’m truly sorry.” Freddy sounded genuinely disappointed as well.

It took a bit of searching, but Gregory finally found a way into customer service.

He inserted his entry pass into the upgrade machine and waited… and waited… and waited… “Freddy, it ate my pass!” He complained, then spotted a notice on the wall: “Please keep magnets away from the machine.” Hmm…

  “Try that terrible magnet you found!” Freddy chuckled. “Maybe it will ‘hack’ the machine.”

  Worth a shot. He slapped the Mr. Hippo magnet onto the machine. The screen bugged out, then a new pass came out of the slot.

  “Yes! The magnet scrambled the machine!” Gregory exclaimed, then examined his new ticket… which quickly caused his excitement to fizzle out. “Aw man, now it’s some kind of… daycare pass?”

  “That is great news! I will meet you in the daycare. The entrance is on the second floor balcony,” Freddy replied.

Upon leaving customer service to head to the daycare, Gregory realised he didn’t see Chica. She wasn’t where he kicked her down the stairs, nor could he see her anywhere else in the lobby.

Which honestly made him more nervous than seeing her would have. He doubted she’d given up on hunting him, which meant that she was still around here somewhere, just hiding.

So the quicker he made it to the daycare, the better.

He swiped his new pass into a scanner at the entrance of the daycare, and was met with a disturbing sight when the door opened.

It was a golden statue of the daycare attendant… or attendants? Gregory didn’t actually know if Sun and Moon were one animatronic or two. In any case, the statue was of both of them back-to-back, which gave it the appearance of a disturbing, 4-armed, spidery creature from his angle.

  “Gregory, I am unable to reach you,” Came Freddy’s apologetic voice from his Fazwatch. “Check the daycare security desk for a security badge then let me in.”

Gregory scouted around the daycare entrance, but couldn’t find a desk. This part of the daycare was a balcony which overlooked the rest of the daycare below. Beyond the sprawling play structures, he saw what looked like it could be a security desk down on the other side of the daycare. He’d have to find a way down.

And it seemed that the only way down was a colourful swirly slide with the caption “Slide into fun!”

He gripped the edge of the slide and peered down into it. Oh yeah, this’ll be so much ‘fun.’ He thought bitterly, before pushing himself down the multicoloured tube.

  “No, I haven’t found him yet.” Alone in the dark, a young woman was whispering. “If Freddy was behaving properly, I would’ve—”

She paused, as though listening to some unseen entity.

  “Yes… I will, I promise. I won’t fail.”

She gripped the edge of a desk, knuckles turning white.

  “No,” She swallowed, voice shaking. “No, I-I don’t need any… encouragement.”

She collapsed to her knees, choking back a sob. “I will do as you say. I will make you proud… master.”

With a shaky breath, she picked up her mask and her knife. Painfully familiar, yet not at all comforting.

She stopped in the doorway, and glanced back into the room, at the purple letters graffitied on the wall.

V A N N Y

She pulled on the mask, and all other thoughts faded to the background. They always did.

She had a job to do.

It might even be fun.

Unseen under the mask, her lips curled into a smile.

 “FREDDY, FREDDY, FREDDYFREDDY—!“ Gregory yelled, sprinting towards him.

Gregory was running away from the daycare—which he had just gotten banned from.

At the bottom of the slide the daycare attendant, ‘Sun,’ had jumped out of the ball pit and grabbed him. He managed to distract Sun by knocking over some foam blocks and found the security desk, but upon taking the security badge all the lights in the daycare shut off. Sun had started convulsing, then fell off the desk and turned into ‘Moon,’ who wanted to “put Gregory to sleep,” whatever that entailed.

Gregory then had to climb through the play structures while being chased by Moon—who could fly —to find the backup generators, (what kind of daycare has open generators in the play area?!) and turn the lights back on.

Thankfully, turning the lights back on allowed Moon to turn back into the marginally less-aggressive Sun, who promptly kicked Gregory out of the daycare for breaking the rules.

Awaiting outside of the daycare were all the animatronics—including Freddy, whom Gregory was trying to get to.

  “Gregory, jump in! We need to get out of here now! They have found you!” Freddy said urgently, opening up his chest hatch.

  “I can see that!” Gregory gasped, and jumped inside Freddy’s chest.

He barely had time to pull his legs in behind him before Freddy closed the hatch.

Monty, who was right on Gregory’s tail, seemed to lose interest in chasing him as soon as he entered Freddy. It must mess with their sensors or something, he thought.

Gregory took deep breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart.

  “I am glad to see you, superstar,” Freddy told him, as they quickly walked out of the daycare. “But we need to get to a recharge station immediately. Every hour the power is diverted to the recharge stations. When that happens the lights go out, and when that happens the daycare attendant is free to roam the building. It will find you.”

They found a recharge station not far outside of the daycare, and Freddy climbed inside with Gregory.

Only moments into the charge cycle, Gregory’s vision started going fuzzy. “ Argh!” He clutched his face. His head felt like it was being microwaved. He wondered if the recharge station was frying his brain or something.

Then he saw it.

Outside the charging pod, a woman(?) in a white rabbit suit lazily skipped past.

Gregory’s vision returned to normal as soon as she(?) left his peripheral.

  “What was that?!” He demanded.

  “That is a fountain. A fountain is a decorative reservoir used for discharging water,” Freddy responded simply.

   “No, not the fountain!” Gregory said, exasperated. “You didn’t see the dancing rabbit lady right in front of us?!”

  “No, I did not.” Freddy sounded confused. “There is no rabbit at the Mega Pizzaplex… not anymore.”

  “This is crazy! It seems like the whole place is trying to get me!”

  “I am not.”

  “Why?” It was the question Gregory had been meaning to ask him all night. Why was Freddy trying so hard to help him?

Freddy pondered this. “I do not know. I want to help you. Maybe they want to help you, too.”

Gregory scoffed. “I doubt it. For some reason, you’re different.”

Freddy didn't respond. The recharge cycle finished, and the lights in the hallway turned back on. “Let us go," he said simply.

  “Good news,” Freddy told him as they walked. “The front doors will open in five hours.”

  “Good news?! Five hours?!” Gregory yelped. “I’m not gonna last five minutes!” Was Freddy serious right now?! That was the opposite of ‘good news’!

  “Do not panic. If we get separated again, you can always call me on your Fazwatch—as long as I have power and am able to reach you. We should get moving, you can access the main atrium with your new security badge.” Freddy informed him gently.

Oh, right. In everything that happened, Gregory had forgotten he’d taken the security badge from the daycare. Which was kinda the whole point of going there in the first place.

They entered an elevator, and Freddy informed him of two possible exit points he’d located. The first was the main loading dock under the food court, and the other was a fire escape in the third floor Prize Counter.

  “I will mark both locations on your Faz Map,” Freddy continued. “Hm, it appears you do not have a Faz Map. You should be able to obtain one from a greeter on the centre balcony.”

The elevator opened with a soft chime.

  “HI! Please take this map. Take a map.” A bot accosted them out of nowhere as soon as they stepped out of the elevator, causing Gregory to jump in surprise.

Freddy didn’t seem fazed by it, though, and calmly took the map with thanks.

  “Thank you, please enjoy! Free map!” The bot rolled out of the way.

  “Here you go, Gregory!” Freddy slid the map through a crack in the seam of his chest hatch.

  “…Right, uh, thanks.” Gregory took the map, still reeling from the map-bot jumpscare.

There was a QR code on the back of the map which Gregory scanned using his watch, so now he could view the map on it.

Blip-blip. Freddy updated this digital map with the potential exit points, then Gregory flipped back to his custom Freddy-vision tab so he could see outside the hatch.

The main Atrium seemed like a completely different place after-hours. It was massive, maybe as large as a football field, and three stories tall, a fact that you could truly appreciate when there were no people around. It was dark, too, lit only by the neon signage and accents. That, along with the uncharacteristic silence and artificial palm trees almost made you feel like you were outside. Like when you're outside late at night and everything seems big and lonely and off.

Unnerved, Gregory flipped back to the map. “Which way should we go?”

  “Hm, there seems to be a door in El Chips that connects to the East Arcade, where the Prize Counter is. That would be the quickest path.”

Freddy stopped in front of the entrance of El Chips, and let Gregory out. “You must continue without me.” There was only a couple foot gap between the shuttered door and the floor. Freddy couldn’t fit. “I will try to find another way in and meet up with you, however I cannot locate you if you do not have a map signal. You should be able to update your map at a security office. Be safe,” He told Gregory solemnly.

  “I… yeah. Don’t worry about me.” Gregory flashed Freddy an awkward grin and ducked under the door, off to venture out on his own again.

Chapter Text

The amount of security El Chips had was sad. The only staff bot in the whole restaurant was a single cleaning bot mopping the checkered tiles.

El Chips wasn’t the most popular spot in the Pizzaplex. In fact, it’d gained something of a reputation for how notoriously bad the food was. You could hardly even call it “Mexican cuisine.” It was more like sad, fried lumps of salty mush. He guessed Fazbear Entertainment didn’t see much reason to put resources towards keeping the restaurant secure, as there was nothing worth stealing.

  Except, Gregory thought with a grin, Fizzy Faz.

Being tired and frustrated and kinda hungry, he swiped a can of lime Fizzy Faz from the restaurant’s coolers and hunched under a booth to drink it. He took one sip and scrunched up his face. Gosh, this stuff must be, like, a hundred-percent sugar.

He loved it.

It gave him a boost of energy, too, which he used to continue his mission to find the entrance to the East Arcade.

He should have known his luck with lax security wouldn’t last, as as soon as he opened the door to the arcade he saw at least half a dozen staff bots patrolling it, alongside Roxanne Wolf.

  “Well done, Gregory,” Freddy said through his watch. “You are in the East Arcade. You should be able to get to the Prize Counter through the security office. Look for the door with a security badge symbol on it.”

Gregory skirted the wall of the arcade, crouching in between arcade cabinets whenever a security bot would roll by. Roxanne, too, was doing her best to goad him out, saying things like he was a “coward” and “didn’t even have any friends”.

  Gee, Roxy, you sure know how to gain a kid’s trust. Gregory thought sourly. He didn’t see why Roxy was Cassie’s favourite. Freddy was much nicer.

He successfully found the door to the security office, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Freddy, it’s not opening,” He whispered into his watch through gritted teeth.

Freddy told him to go to the very back of the arcade where a roll-up door should lead to the Prize Counter.

He’d only made it a couple steps when his watch beeped again and, thinking it was Freddy giving him more directions, he checked his messages.

There was a message titled “STAFF PARTY.”

  Huh? What’s that all about?

He couldn’t read it now, he’d have to check it out later.

  “You’re the best, you will find him first.” Roxy muttered, right on the opposite side of the row of arcade cabinets Gregory had stopped by.

He held his breath, and silently crawled along the row, then got up and sprinted as soon as he got to the end.

Eventually, he made it to the door.

  “Locked again? Why does a pizza place need so much security?” He asked, frustrated.

  “They are… required safety measures due to past issues. Look for another way in.”

There were no other doors in the arcade as far as Gregory could see, so he was about to give up and try the loading dock instead when he saw a vent with the cover dangling off.

He took his time crawling through the vent, he didn’t want to snag his knee on any jagged metal like he did last time. Then he heard a faint, musical tinkling. He thought it was just the music playing in the arcade changing, but it was getting closer.

He glanced behind him and stifled a scream.

It looked like a cross between a spider and a messed-up humanoid face, holding a pair of cymbals. Some sort of wind-up music toy. It was pretty beat up and dirty, too. And it was scuttling right towards him.

So much for taking his time.

He doubted a little wind-up toy could do much to him, but it freaked him out so he stuck his flashlight between his teeth and crawled through the rest of the vent as fast as he could.

He tumbled out of the vent into the security office. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like the music-spider-dude-thing wanted to follow. It turned around and scuttled back down the vent.

  “Freddy said I would be able to update my map in here…” He muttered, brushing himself off.

He saw another one of those Freddy-shaped boxes on the desk that held a Security Badge.

But the moment he took the badge, an alarm triggered. “EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN ACTIVATED. THIS AREA IS OFF-LIMITS TO GUESTS.” The speakers blared.

  “No, no, no!” Gregory panicked. “Freddy! I don’t know what happened! All I did was take the badge!”

  “Do not panic.” Freddy’s calm and warm voice alleviated some of the cold dread that had shot through Gregory’s stomach. “That office is now on lockdown. I can deactivate the alarm, but it will take some time.”

Gregory checked his cams. Roxanne was approaching from the left.

The doors to the office were magnetic and controlled with electricity, which seemed like a very bad design, especially as the power drained fast. To make it out of there alive, he’d have to be very careful about when he closed the doors.

  “Hey, little guy!” A gruff voice shouted from the right. Monty was here, too?!

Meanwhile, Roxy was getting very close.

  “ 3… 2… 1…!” Gregory whispered, and slammed the door in her face at the last second, causing her to run right into it with an jarring THUNK and a cry of frustration.

Checking his cameras again, he saw that Roxy was stumbling back away, but now Monty was rapidly approaching.

Back and forth he went, alternating closing and opening the doors to keep the animatronics at bay.

According to Freddy, he had about one more minute until he shut off the lockdown. He still had about half his power left, so Gregory was able to shut both doors and wait it out.

Having nothing else to do now, he checked the odd message he received.

“ REMINDER TO ALL EMPLOYEES - The all staff meeting is this Friday night at 12:00AM. All "service team" attendance is mandatory. There will be cake! ”

Huh. It seemed like his Fazwatch somehow received an internal email.

  That must be what the security guard was talking to the technician about. He hoped that the employees were having a better time being cozied up in their party room than he was having fighting for his life out here.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with staying alive, perhaps he would have stopped to wonder just how those employees were supposed to have gotten themselves home afterwards, if the Pizzaplex was locked down.

  “All done! See, that was not so bad,” Freddy said, just as the alarm stopped blaring. “If the path looks clear, head to the Prize Counter.”

He let out a sigh of relief, and carefully, as to not attract the attention of the other animatronics, he creeped over to the Prize Counter.

The first thing he saw when he walked in were jumbo-sized plushies of all the characters, including Freddy. He wanted one sooooo bad, but had to restrain himself from taking one. You couldn’t exactly be stealthy lugging around a teddy bear that was larger than yourself.

He followed the signage to the fire escape, doing his best to ignore all the other fun trinkets the Prize Counter had to offer.

There! He found the door… but it was roped off and guarded by two wet-floor bots.

  “You found the fire escape. Unfortunately, I do not think there is a way to reach it without becoming a VIP. It is not a very good emergency system. You are lucky there is not a fire. I have lodged a formal complaint.” Freddy remarked unhelpfully.

Gregory wanted to scream. Or kick something. He’d come all this way for nothing?!

  “Freddy,” he said quietly, trying to keep his frustration and panic in check, “if all the doors are locked, how am I gonna get out of here?”

  “Get to the elevator, find a safe path on your Fazwatch.”

He had to maneuver around Roxy, but he successfully made it to the elevator without being spotted.

He stepped inside, but just as the doors were closing, a Map-Bot came out of nowhere and yanked them back open.

  “Take a map. Free map,” It shoved one right into Gregory’s face,

  “Arrrgh! Go away, go away!” He yelled, trying to shove it away. “I already have one, you stupid bot!”

  “Move!” A woman’s voice demanded, and shoved the bot out of the way.

It was the security guard.

She grabbed Gregory by the collar. “There you are, you little punk,” She said angrily, shining her flashlight in his face.

Gregory tried desperately to wriggle out of her grasp, but his limbs wouldn’t respond.

It was as if his body decided “ Nope! You’ve reached your limit for terror and exhaustion for one night. You will sleep now!”

He had no more adrenaline left to give.

Unwittingly, his head slumped forward, and everything faded to black.

A young boy ran down the street, breath coming out in ragged huffs.

  “Mrs. O’Leary is going to kill me…” He thought with a sinking stomach.

The sun was just brushing the rooftops of the houses lining the subdivision. He just had to make it to the end of the street.

  “Please, please let Mrs. O’Leary be out,” He prayed silently.

The boy made it to his destination, a quaint one-story house in desperate need of a new coat of paint and a lawn mowing.

He flew through the doorway and shut it behind him as quietly as he could.

Nobody was waiting for him at the door. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He crept down the hallway to his room, and opened the door.

  “There you are.” The boy was greeted by a sour-faced woman standing in the middle of the room.

The first thing he noticed was the wineglass in her hand. Judging by her face, it wasn’t her first of the day either.

  “Mrs. O’Leary, I’m sorry! I-I was at the library and lost track of time!” He stammered.

  “Do you think I’m dumb?” She snorted. “Yeah, right. A kid like you, spending four hours at the library, reading like a good little boy?”

  “I wasn’t reading… I was using the computers,” He mumbled.

She scoffed. “Look at me when you speak, boy. Whatever would you spend so much time doing on there? Watching adult movies, perhaps?”

  “What?! No!” The boy scrunched up his face, repulsed. “I’m eleven! I was talking to a friend, her name is Cassie.”

  “Mhm. And talking to this ‘friend’ was so important that it made you half an hour late?” She studied him with cold eyes.

  “I told you! We were chatting, and I just lost track of time...”

Then he noticed the garbage bag by her feet. “What’s that…?” He asked with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “Oh, this?” A cruel smile crept onto her face. “You knew the rules. This is the second time this week that you’ve come home late. That means you’ve lost some of your… ‘privileges.’”

He made a grab for the bag, but the woman grabbed him by his shaggy hair and yanked his head back to look her in the face.

  “You listen here young man,” She snarled, face close enough to his that he could smell the alcohol on her breath. “I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, and this is how you repay me? By being an ungrateful, deceitful little punk?”

  “No, no! I’m sorry! Please…” The boy pleaded, blinking back tears.

  “You had your chance. You lost it. You will be staying in this room until I say. No supper, and I can’t promise you breakfast, either. And this,” she snatched up the garbage bag, “will be coming with me. You’ll help me run a yard sale with these this weekend, see if you can make back some money for the trouble you’ve caused me.”

She turned to leave. “I’ve half a mind to send you back to the group home. You’re lucky I’m a softie, Gregory,” she said, shutting the door and turning the lock with an audible click.

The boy, Gregory, frantically searched his room, his worst fears being confirmed.

It was gone.

His nice jacket, his coloured pencils, his teddy bear—the last remaining possession he had from his late parents—even the friendship bracelets Cassie made for him.

It was all gone.

All that was left were a handful of toiletries, school supplies, some threadbare hand-me-down clothing in his closet not deemed good enough to sell, and whatever was in the backpack he’d had on his back.

Any and every material possession that’s ever meant something to him; gone

He couldn’t help it, he curled up on his bed and cried. He knew tears were weak, and he couldn’t afford to be weak… but that’s what he felt in that moment. Weak.

Nobody ever wanted him.

He was never, could never be good enough.

He laid there on his bed for a long while. Eventually, the sobs faded away into a sorrowful quietness, and all the self-pity and grief swirling through his head began to be pushed aside in favour of a stronger, more familiar emotion; determination.

He picked himself up off the bed and wiped the residual tears on his cheeks with the back of his hand, knowing that it was time.

He couldn’t stay there.

Chapter Text

“Hrngh…” Gregory stirred. His head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and why was he lying on a concrete floor?

He forced open his eyes. “Where am I…? What’s with all this... stuff?” He was in a small room with a shelf full of boxes of random junk and merch. He was resting on a nest-like pile of sweaters in the middle of the floor.

He bolted upright, remembering what had happened, he’d been caught . “Freddy, Freddy? Are you there? He tapped his watch frantically. It was just after 2:00 a.m; he’d been out cold for 20 minutes.

No answer.

He stumbled his way over to the door and jiggled the handle. Just as he feared, it wouldn’t budge. He was trapped.

   Maybe there’s something in my backpack I can use to pick the lock… He started to wonder, but then realised that he didn’t have his backpack.

Actually, he couldn’t even remember the last time he did. Maybe the security guard confiscated it, or maybe he’d forgotten it in the Atrium before this whole thing started.

Whatever the case, it was gone. The only tools in his possession were his Fazwatch, the flashlight he stole from daycare, and the security badges.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Gregory.”

He whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. There were monitors on the desk, and they were on, displaying the security guard’s face.

  “Yeah, I know your name. What were you thinking? ” She continued through the screens. “This place isn’t exactly a playground after-hours. Especially not tonight .” She sounded vaguely… worried? “You’re gonna sit right there in Lost and Found until your parents or the police arrive.”

  Crap! This was not good. Had she already called the police?

On one hand, he desperately needed to get out of the Pizzaplex, he was in real, actual danger. The police would be a way out. On the other hand…

Gregory flopped back on to the pile of sweaters and threw his hands over his face. Was going back to foster care really any better? Sure, not all the families he’d been placed with were bad per se, but…

Part of him almost preferred his chances with the crazy animatronics.

Static crackled on the monitors, and the image of the security guard suddenly morphed into a person in a white rabbit costume—the one he’d seen earlier.

  “Are you having fun yet?” She cooed. Her voice sounded distorted and choppy, like when you talk through a fan. She waved, then the screens shut off completely.

  “What the heck was that?” Gregory gasped, heart pounding.

Then his vision blurred, his brain felt like it was vibrating against his skull.

It was the same thing he felt when the rabbit lady walked by him before.

He glanced through the window, and saw the rabbit lady languidly skipping down the stairs towards the room he was in, a knife in her hand.

Gregory scooted back, terrified. How am I gonna get out of here?

The doors were locked. There was a vent behind him, but it was screwed shut.

His eyes desperately swept the room, and through the blur of panic he saw a screwdriver under the desk. He yanked it out and frantically began unscrewing the vent cover.

He glanced back, the rabbit lady had made it to the window and creepily waved to him again.

Sweat rolled down his face. He only had gotten two of the screws off so far, and he was out of time. Desperately he yanked on the vent cover, it popped off and loudly clattered to the floor. Gregory winced at the noise, but there was no point in being quiet when he’d already been found.

He pushed himself through the vent as fast and he could. It was a tight fit, so he hoped the rabbit lady couldn’t follow him.

Tumbling out of the vent on the other side, he stayed lying there on the floor, gasping for air. Vaguely, he registered that he was back in the Lobby.

His instincts knew that he should get up, keep moving and get as far away as possible, but he couldn’t.

All night, his biggest fear had been that somebody would find him and take him back to the social workers.

Sure, the animatronics had been chasing him, and Chica even scraped up his arm, but he’d been able to convince himself that they were just doing what they were told, just trying to take him to the security guard. Even Freddy said they couldn’t hurt guests.

But now, after being pursued by someone wielding a knife , well…

Let’s just say he didn’t think that the knife was for cutting birthday cakes.

He wasn’t running to avoid security anymore, he was running for his life.

Gregory allowed himself one deep breath. Then another. Then one more, and forced himself to get up off the floor.

  Owwww! Everything hurt, and he was exhausted, but he needed to find Freddy.

As he stepped into the elevator to get back to the Atrium, his watch finally beeped with a new call.

  “Gregory, G-Gregory—“

  “Freddy!” Gregory exclaimed in relief. “Freddy, help, the rabbit lady found me!” Something wasn’t right. “Are you okay? You sound… glitchy.”

  “If you get this mes-message, come to Roxy R-R-Raceway—“ Static replaced his voice. “…up boxes to get over the construction fence… jamming my signal-l… come to Roxy Raceway…”

  “Freddy? Freddy?!” Gregory called, but his watch was silent.

Cautiously, Gregory climbed over the boxes that were precariously piled up in front of the construction fence in Roxy Raceway, just like Freddy said.

The raceway was in a sordid state. Debris and safety fences cluttered what once was the lobby. It looked like a hurricane had blown through.

Standing at the top of the fence, he peered down the other side.

  “Freddy!”

He was lying there on the ground in the midst of all this wreckage, twitching. Gregory skidded down the wall and rushed over to him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “There you a-are! I was so worried. I waited and waited-ted for you…” Freddy’s robotic voice sounded weak and pained. “I missed the hourly recharge cycle and have been trying to get down to Parts and Service-vice. I think something-thing is wrong.”

Gregory frowned. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Help me get to-to Parts and Service.”

  “Of course I will!” He replied earnestly, and clasped Freddy’s paw in his hands. “How do we get there?”

  “It is down under the main stage. Normally the stage lift takes me down there after every concert. That is truly the only way I know how,” Freddy stuttered. “Use that door behind me. It will take you to the rehearsal room on the other side of the building. Look for a backstage pass, and find a way to turn on the lift.” He lowered his head back on the ground. “Good luck, superstar. Entering rest mode…”

  “Okay,” Gregory blinked back the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I’ll do my best, Freddy.”

 “Where am I?” Gregory peered into the darkness.

The door led to an expansive concrete hallway. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead and the flashlights of the patrolling STAFF bots did little to cut through the thick, inky darkness present.

When he was younger, one of his foster “siblings” tried to scare him with this old internet urban legend. What was it called again… the Backrooms?

This place reminded him of that.

Gregory clicked his own flashlight on, and creeped through the corridor.

After what was probably only a few minutes, but felt to him like hours, he made it to what he thought was the end of the hallway. However, when he turned the corner it kept going, and he was unable to see the end in the darkness.

At least the security bots were dumb as bricks, Gregory thought. They didn’t catch him once.

Finally, he saw a bright-red double door with checkered detailing—distinct from all the nondescript metal doors he’d passed so far.

He pushed them open and found himself back in a more obviously inhabited area of the Pizzaplex. A cheery orange-and-blue hallway greeted him, and beyond it was a large auditorium filled with bleachers, whiteboards, folding tables, and music stands.

  “Freddy said I could find a backstage pass around here somewhere…” He mumbled.

And he did find one, after a bit of poking around, laying a table at the back of the room.

Now to find the lift controls.

He walked through another short passageway and— “Huh…”

He was back in Rockstar Row.

Disoriented, he checked his map, grinning when it showed him not far from where he needed to go. “Perfect! Access to the stage controls is right in front of me.”

He slipped through the door, completely disregarding the “Authorised personnel only” sign on it, and up a flight of stairs. A disturbing sound floated down the stairwell, Gregory froze. It was a lot of grunting and banging.

   Monty. He thought.

He sounded far away, though, so Gregory cautiously continued up the stairs and into the stage control room.

The room was large and rectangular, with a wall in the centre and windows on either end of the room overlooking both the Atrium and the rehearsal area. There were study metal doors in each corner of the room, adorned with an instrument icon to represent each of the Glamrocks.

The room was also lined with desks and monitors, and one of the desks had a security badge box on it, as well as some kind of disk.

  “What’s this?” He picked up the disk. “It looks old.”

He turned it over, and scribbled on the back in marker were the words “Performance disk” and “Showtime.”

   This must be what Freddy wanted me to find, he thought, then turned towards the security box.

Both times when he’d taken Security badges before, something had gone wrong.

So he wasn’t exactly surprised when an alarm sounded, though he did mutter a string of cuss words that would make Freddy very disappointed in him.

  “Gregory? What did you do?” It was Freddy’s voice, but it wasn’t coming from his watch. He whipped around and saw Freddy’s face staring down at him from the monitors. “Something happened. I can communicate again! I think you fixed my signal. Thank you.”

  “I can see you on the monitors!” Gregory told him, relieved. “I didn’t think you could stand up.”

  “Consider it a… second wind,” Freddy answered vaguely.

  “Freddy,” Gregory looked at the other screens around him, “I see Roxy and Monty on the cameras, they're both coming to the office!” He could feel the vibrations of their footsteps through the floor, too.

  “Do not let them in,” Freddy instructed. “The security doors are equipped with electrical deterrents. If you see them banging on the doors, hit the appropriate button. The shock should stun them.”

Gregory nodded, he could handle this. “OK, but... how do I get out of here?”

  “Do you see the large vent in the floor? You’re probably standing right on top of it.” Gregory glanced down. Sure enough, he was standing on top of a large grate. “If I can reach the room under you, I should be able to force it open and let you out.” Freddy frowned. “All the doors appear to be on lockdown. Hmm…”

BANG!

Something pounded into one of the doors, denting it. Gregory jumped back and swore.

  “Language, Gregory!” Freddy admonished. “Listen closely. Look for me on the monitors, if you see me waving, push the button in front of the corresponding monitor to open the door.”

  “Okay! I’ll—“ Gregory began, then the monitors changed. “There you are,” a sickeningly familiar voice cooed. It was the rabbit lady again. “See you soon!”

  “Hurry, Gregory!” The screens flickered back to Freddy. “I cannot stop them!”

Gregory turned in a circle, thinking. Firstly, he needed to deal with whatever was pounding on the door. He slammed his palm into the button and flinched away from Monty’s agonised growl. Then he circled the room looking for Freddy, and pressed that button to let him through.

He didn’t let himself think. Just let his survival instincts take over pushing buttons and praying that Freddy would make it there before the rabbit lady did.

Then his vision began to blur again.

  “No! No! Please…” He begged silently. “Freddy, hurry up…!”

He heard the grate rattle, then two familiar paws appeared and yanked it down. “Jump down!” Freddy called.

He pushed a button to stun Roxy once more for good measure, then ran over to the hole in the floor and hopped down, trusting Freddy to catch him.

  “Oof.” He landed with a thud in Freddy's strong, metal arms. “Freddy, you saved me!” He exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the animatronic’s neck to steady himself.

  “I am so glad to see you, superstar! I am sorry I was not there when you needed me.” Freddy knelt down to let the boy out of his arms, but Gregory didn’t let go. In fact, he tightened his grip on the animatronic even more, and started to shake.

  “We really need to get to the stage before my battery—“

He was cut off by Gregory’s sniffle.

  “Gregory…?”

  “I-I’m scared, Freddy, I was so scared.” Gregory choked out, disgusted at himself the moment the admission crossed his lips. He knew Freddy was right, he couldn’t waste time blubbering like a baby, but— “I want to go home.”

Tears slipped out of his eyes, dripping onto his shirt and Freddy’s casing. He buried his face into Freddy’s chest.

  “Oh, Gregory…” Freddy dropped all attempts of trying to put him down, and instead brought his own arms up again to wrap around the boy, pulling him close.

And that was all it took for Gregory to lose any little bit of composure he was still stubbornly clinging to.

He couldn’t stop his crying, no matter how much he told himself he was being ridiculous and they didn’t have time for this. But the floodgates had opened, and there was no holding it back now.

He was so scared, he was so tired. All he’d wanted was some warm food and a place to relax, but now he was stuck here, running for his life. He was sick and tired of always running, whether it be from foster parents who didn’t care about him or murderous animatronics.

  “I know how scary this must be for you. I promise, I will help you escape this place and you can go back home,” Freddy murmured, rubbing small circles on his back.

  “No! You don’t understand!” Gregory sobbed, banging his fist against Freddy’s chest. He didn’t know where this sudden anger came from, whether it was directed towards Freddy or himself or his pathetic life in general. “I don’t have a home, Freddy! I’m an orphan! I’m just a stupid, dumb, ‘troubled’ runaway who nobody wants! I don’t even get why you’re helping me! All I do is make things more difficult for others…I-I’m a problem child, Freddy!”

  “Gregory.” Freddy gently grabbed Gregory’s wrists to stop him from hitting him. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, Gregory lifted his teary eyes to meet Freddy’s electronic blue ones.

  “I may not know much about you Gregory, such as where you’re from or what may be in your past. But if these past couple hours have taught me anything, it’s that you’re a good kid. I know you are.” Freddy said earnestly, his synthesised voice filled with genuinity and compassion. “And anybody who may have tried to tell you otherwise is thoroughly mistaken.” At some point during all this, Freddy has sat down, and was leaning against the wall of whatever room they’d found themselves in, keeping the boy cradled in his arms. “I understand that I am an animatronic, and I may not be capable of emotions the same way a human might, but I assure you, with every spark in my circuits, I do care about you. And I promise, there is a family out there somewhere who will give you all the love and care you are deserving of.”

  “Freddy, I…” Gregory averted his gaze, ashamed. All the energy from his little outburst suddenly drained.

  “I wish I could give you the time you needed to calm down and recover. I wish you didn’t have to be doing all this in the first place, and that you could spend the night with me drinking Fizzy Faz and playing games in my green room,” Freddy said regretfully. “But we must keep moving, they know you are here and my power could run out at any minute. Are you ready to continue?”

  “Yeah…” Gregory sniffed, and attempted to dry his face with the back of his hands. He felt his face flush in mortification upon realising that he’d gotten tears and snot on Freddy, but the Glamrock didn’t say a word about it.

They stood up and Freddy grabbed his hand. “Then lead the way, superstar. Why don’t you tell me about yourself while we walk?”

So he did. He told Freddy about being orphaned at age three, being shuffled from foster home to foster home, and not being wanted. About the bad foster parents, the not-so-bad foster parents, and the horrible one he escaped from just a couple weeks ago. About all the fights, all the running away, and the disappointed faces of the social workers and counsellors.

But he talked about the good stuff, too. Namely, Cassie. Such as the sleepovers they’d had together, how her dad wasn’t mean to him, and their hijinks during all their online chatroom sessions.

Freddy listened to all of this patiently, sometimes asking questions, sometimes simply giving the boy’s hand a gentle squeeze. He was a good listener.

It didn’t magically make everything okay, but after it all Gregory felt that perhaps he did have the strength to go on.

Chapter Text

Freddy collapsed on the main stage in the atrium with a robotic sigh.

  “What now?” Gregory asked him, letting go of his paw. “I found this old disk thing in the control room, is this what we were looking for?” He showed it to Freddy.

  “Yes, that is the showtime program, it should activate the lift,” Freddy said weakly. “You’ll need to go to the sound booth on the 3rd floor balcony to play it. I will wait here to preserve what power I have left. Please hurry.”

Gregory looked up towards the balcony. It was on the other side of the atrium. STAFF bots and security gates were stationed everywhere. To top it all off, Monty was standing on top of the party check-in booth operating one of those heavy-duty spotlights like you see in movies.

Well, if it was anything like the movies, as long as he didn’t touch the spotlight he’d be fine.

While stealth probably would have been the smart option, Gregory wanted to get back to Freddy as quickly as possible, so he sprinted across the atrium and up the two flights of escalators. He wasn’t sure what the security gates hoped to accomplish, as they were only like two feet tall and he could easily hop over them.

In no time at all he made it to the sound booth.

After fiddling with the controls for a minute he found a slot to insert the disk into. Immediately the iconic Glamrock theme tune began to echo throughout the atrium, and the giant holograms of all the band members flickered to life over the stage.

   Good, that should do it. Hopefully Freddy is okay, Gregory thought, and turned around to find himself face-to-face with Chica.

  “This area is off limits!” She reprimanded him cheerfully. Her casing was a little scuffed, but otherwise her tumble down the escalator earlier didn’t seem to have slowed her down.

Gregory yelped and scrambled backwards, only to find Roxy blocking the sound booth’s other exit.

  “Hey kid, come on out! We’re only trying to help.” She unsheathed her claws with a vicious grin.

Oh, no, no, no. This was bad.

In unison they both started creeping towards him. Clearly they knew that he had nowhere to run and were taking their time, toying with him.

He tried to quell his panic. He was going to die if he stayed there, so that left only one other option.

Was it a stupid idea? Yes. But if he didn’t try he’d die anyway.

He leapt up onto the console–buttons clacking underfoot–and vaulted over the railing of the balcony, two stories above the ground.

For the briefest moment, the weightlessness felt freeing. He let out a chuckle at the surprised yells from the animatronics behind him. But then he started to plummet, and the dread settled in.

He was probably only airborne for a second or two, but it felt like ages, giving his brain endless time to agonize over what the hell he was supposed to do now. He had read somewhere that falling into a roll minimised the impact of the drop, so he tucked in his arms to brace for landing and rolled as soon as his body made contact with the ground… right into a pair of green-clad legs.

He’d landed on the roof of the party check-in booth, where Montgomery Gator was manning the spotlight.

  “HEY! Wha—!” Monty gaped down at him through his shades, jaw dropped. His expression could almost be comical, if not for the circumstances.

  “Uh, hi!” Gregory squeaked, and scrambled off the roof onto one of the artificial palm trees that dotted the atrium.

Monty got over his shock and roared at him. “GET BACK 'ERE, KID!”

But Gregory had already slid down the trunk and hit the ground running.

He ran through the atrium, no longer caring about being spotted by the security bots and setting off their alarms, because the animatronics already were on his tail.

He hopped up on to the stage and slammed his palm into the button to start the lift.

It seemed the animatronics were hardwired to not get on to the lift while it was in motion, as Monty was the first to catch up with him yet he just stood at the edge and stared at them furiously as the lift descended.

Gregory flopped down next to Freddy with a sigh of relief. That was terrifying. I’ll get Freddy fixed up and I’ll stick with him until morning, everything’ll be okay, he thought optimistically. Surely he’d seen all the horrors the Pizzaplex had to throw at him by now!

And it was at that moment that he heard a creepy laugh from behind him.

  “Ahh!” He whipped around to see the eerie “Moon” side of the daycare attendant dangling from the edge of the lift. It slowly waved at him then dropped down out of sight. “What time is it? We need to get to a recharge station!” Gregory panicked. Ugh, seriously, couldn’t they leave him alone for five seconds ?!

The lift shuddered to a stop. “C’mon, c’mon Freddy!” He desperately tugged at Freddy’s arm. With a little assistance from Gregory, Freddy got back on his feet, and they stumbled into the backstage tunnels. 

  “We’re-re almost there.” Freddy said, his voice barely a whisper.

Gregory led Freddy through the tunnels at his direction, and found a recharge station.

  “Gregory.” Freddy froze. He was still weak and clutching his stomach like he was a human in actual pain, but his face was deadly serious. “Get inside. NOW! ” He threw open the door and shoved Gregory inside.

  “Huh?! Freddy? Wha—“ The door slammed in front of him. Gregory just stood there in the pod, confused. I’m not the one who needs to charge, dummy! He banged on the inside of the door to try to get Freddy to let him out.

Then a thought occurred to him that sent a chill down his spine. Did Freddy lock me in here so the security guard could get me?

No… Freddy was his friend . He wouldn’t do that, right?

Gregory heard sounds of a scuffle from outside, then the BANG of something heavy and metallic hitting the concrete floor. There was a window in the recharge pod, but it was at animatronic eye-level. He jumped up to try to see what was going on, and gasped.

Freddy was sprawled on the ground, and Moon was lurking over him. It bent down and grabbed Freddy by the legs and began to drag him off with an ear-splitting scrape.

Gregory dropped to a crouch, and slapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his frantic breathing.

Freddy had protected him. Again. And now he was in danger because of it.

His conscience prickled for ever thinking that Freddy was gonna betray him.

He waited until the scraping had faded away and he was sure the Moon dude was gone before he pushed the door of the pod open and peeked his head out.

There was a door and a dusty window on the wall behind him. He peered through the glass and could just make out Freddy and Moon in a room ahead of him. He tried the door, and of course, he needed another security level to open it.

How many times had Freddy protected him already that night? Too many to count, he realised.

He couldn’t just walk away and leave Freddy there at the mercy of whatever that Moon dude wanted with him.

It was his turn to protect Freddy.

He set his shoulders and turned away from the glass. “Hold on, Freddy. I’m coming to rescue you.”

Earlier that night…

Down in the basement of the Pizzaplex, tucked away in the employee cafeteria, a party was underway. At the table sat thirteen employees, each of them with a slice of cake in front of them. The mood around the table was not very celebratory, however. A couple awkward attempts at conversation were made, but most of the employees sat in uncomfortable silence while picking at their dessert. All except for one, that is.

  “Do you like the cake?” The woman sitting at the head of the table asked, contently digging into her own slice and sitting primly in her chair. “I made it myself, you know. Took me all afternoon!”

The other employees shared uncomfortable glances, not responding.

  “Oh, cut the crap.” One of the employee’s—a janitor—huffed irritably, and pointed his plastic fork at the woman. “Just give it to us straight. We’re getting fired, right? Let me guess, they don’t need a ‘skeleton crew to supervise the STAFF project’ after all?”

None of the other employees said anything, but their awkward coughs and pointedly averted glances gave away the fact they were all thinking the same thing.

  “You wanna get down to business so soon? And here I was hoping we could enjoy the party for a bit!” The woman pouted. “But to answer your question, no; you’re not getting fired.”

A ripple of surprise went through the table at this.

  “Then what’s all this for? Because I highly doubt management would throw a party for us unless they wanted something,” another employee asked.

  “Hmm, perceptive, aren’t you?” The woman giggled, setting down her plate. “Yes, there is a reason we’ve gathered you all here.” She pressed a button on a tablet she had clipped to her belt. In rolled a STAFF bot, akin to a Map-Bot in appearance, but with a set of crudely-fashioned rabbit ears instead of a hat. It was carrying a tray piled with some kind of rabbit-like masks.

  “Wh—“ one of the employees began, but paused at finding that the woman at the head of the table now had a rabbit mask of her own covering her face, leering at them with a red bug-eyed stare.

  “These are V.A.N.N.I masks, created for the new V.A.N.N.I network we are installing in the Pizzaplex for employees!” She said by way of explanation.

  “Uh…” one of the employees shifted uncomfortably, a mix of apprehension and unease written on all their faces. “And what exactly do they do…?”

  “I’m glad you asked!” The woman responded brightly, sounding almost like a commercial saleswoman trying to pitch the latest, useless gadget to an audience. “The V.A.N.N.I network is an AR network which, through the use of an occipital transmitter, will integrate you into the very network of the Pizzaplex, assisting and expediting you in your tasks in ways never before possible! Neat, huh?”

  “And if we don’t want to be ‘integrated into the network of the Pizzaplex?’ What then?” One of the employees, a technician, chimed in nervously, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Well,” the masked woman said slowly, drawing out the l-sound. “There is always another option.” In less than a second she had the knife out of the cake, still smeared in frosting, and had lunged across the table, levelling it at the throat of the technician. “So, what’ll it be?” She said, all-too cheerfully considering the sudden shift in tone the interaction had taken.

He tried to move away, only to find the arms of the Mask-Bot pinning him in place

It was so silent in the room you could’ve heard a pin drop.

Then someone screamed.

Around them, the other employees seemed to snap to their senses, the gravity of their situation settling in. Some yelled, scrambling to get to a phone or radio, some reached for plastic utensils or the folding chairs to use as weapons, others tried to run for the exit. They didn’t get far, as they found a wall of STAFF bots blocking the door. More STAFF bots filed into the room and within seconds all of the other employees had been apprehended by bots, completely and utterly trapped.

  “Y-you’re crazy,” the technician gasped, Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared down the blade of the knife.

  “Is it that obvious?” She giggled, pressing the edge of the blade closer. “Now, I said make your choice. The mask, or the knife?”

  “If I consent to this… ‘V.A.N.N.I network’… you’ll let me go free?” He whispered.

  “Oh, honey-bun,” she laughed ominously, “you won’t die, but I never said you’d be free .”

The technician considered these words, a pained expression on his face. “I-I choose…” Without warning, he jabbed his elbow forwards, breaking it out of the bot’s clutches and into his attacker's stomach.

  “Oof,” she gasped. But her surprise didn’t last long. A slash . The technician stilled, a look of shock on his face.

The icing on the knife was no longer white.

He collapsed in a heap in front of the Mask-Bot. One of the other employees let out a whimper.

  “A shame, really, we could’ve used the skills of a Class V technician like him, but alas, he made his choice.” She sighed, and turned to face the other employees who were looking at her with varying expressions of horror. “Well?” She asked innocently, wiping off the blade on the white tablecloth, leaving a smear of crimson. “I’ll come around to each of you one by one, and let you make your choice! Let this former technician be an example of what happens if you say no.”

Some called her a monster, some merely sobbed, one even spat in her face.

Slash.

She’d move on to the next.

Not one of the employees ended up saying yes.

The pleasantly sweet scent of vanilla cake that initially filled the room was swiftly replaced by a sharp, coppery one.

The masked woman surveyed the carnage, expression unreadable under the mask.

  “Well that sucks,” she pouted, as if she were a child merely lamenting the loss of TV privileges or other inconsequential thing, not the sudden existence of a dozen corpses. “So I made all of those masks for nothing?”

Another voice spoke up. “It truly is a shame, we could have used their skills. They simply cannot comprehend power even when it is being handed to them on a silver platter. But it’s their loss.” This voice was coming from a phantom figure in the corner of the room. It had the appearance of a crudely-constructed rabbit costume, glowing green with startling violet eyes. It had been there the whole time, watching, monitoring. Nobody else seemed to have noticed it. Maybe it wasn’t even real.

  “Let this be a lesson, Vanny.” It continued, voice smooth and lyrical, yet with a commanding edge. “We don’t need anybody else. You have me, what else do you need, really? I gave you everything, lifted you up from the weak, pathetic girl you once were. Don’t let this little setback deter you. You know what your job is. Now, clean up this mess before anybody finds it, then go find that boy!”

  “Yeah, yeah, quit your blabbing, old man.” The masked woman–Vanny, waved him off carelessly.

The figure didn’t respond. In fact, it had vanished altogether.

Maybe it was never even there in the first place.

But then again, who knew? This was Freddy’s, where fantasy and fun came to life. Anything was possible.

  “Well, I suppose I do need to deal with this before our little friend wakes up again,” Vanny admitted out loud. Even if she would’ve loved to have seen her face if she woke up now and saw this . But that wasn’t their agreement. Therefore, the task of cleaning up fell to Vanny.

She turned back to the aforementioned red, sticky mess, and sighed.

Hmm, perhaps she could persuade Moon into dealing with it instead. He liked cleaning.

With that decided, she picked up her knife again, and left the party, a spring in her step.

Time to find that kid.

She liked hide and seek. She always won.

Chapter Text

  “Hi! Please take this map!”

  “AHH!” Gregory jumped back and fell on his behind. A Map-Bot had been waiting to jumpscare him as soon as he turned the corner to venture down the tunnels.

With a tinge of embarrassment he got back up and snatched the map, giving the bot a rude finger gesture as he passed. “Ugh, I hate that thing!”

The map was one of the backstage tunnels, so at least it wasn’t completely unnecessary. He studied it. There was a security office down here not too far away, so that’s where he would go.

The tunnels were dark, cramped, and dingy. Everything from crates to trash cans to the foam blocks they have at the daycare cluttered the halls, creating a sort of a maze.

Then he noticed the things .

Endoskeletons lurked in the corners; eerie creatures of exposed metal beams and wires that were hiding in the shadows. He couldn’t tell who they were supposed to be. Perhaps all the Glamrocks used the same base endo. At least they all seemed to be deactivated.

Gregory crept past, unable to shake a feeling of unease that settled in his chest. He had a distinct feeling that he was being watched.

He whipped around and scanned around his flashlight, yet saw nothing amiss. All the endos were as still as statues. He took a shaky breath, and turned back to continue walking.

Still, his instincts screamed that something was not right with them.

He took a couple slow, deliberate steps, then spun back around.

…Just in time to see an endo put its foot down, and a red glow in its eyes fade back off.

The endos were definitely moving.

He gasped, and flattened himself against a wall, sweeping his gaze back and forth frantically. Red light, He realised what was going on with a jolt.

He was trapped in a twisted game of Red Light, Green Light.

Gregory should have carefully traversed the halls, making sure to keep the endos at bay and looking out for anything else that may have been lurking down here. He should have been patient, methodical, and stealthy.

But Gregory was never one for patience.

He half-walked, half-jogged backwards while maintaining eye contact with the endos, only occasionally looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t walking into walls or any endos that might sneak up behind him.

After a few turns, the ground under his shoes turned squishy. He risked a glance down, and saw that the floor here was those colourful foam tiles like you’d see in a daycare.

Actually, he thought as he eyed his new surroundings, the whole place was decorated like a daycare, or a child’s room.

Amongst the industrial shelving and towers of boxes that you would expect of utility tunnels, were murals depicting forests and seasides and towns. Perhaps once they were vivid and cheery, but they had faded through time and neglect. More of those foam blocks were scattered around, along with posters advertising Sundrop and Moondrop candies.

By far the strangest thing, though, were the plushies.

Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy. Not their modern designs, either. These were the OG’s, from… the 80’s?

What were they doing here?

He kept moving. Unfortunately, his strat for dealing with the endoskeletons was no longer quite working. The endos were becoming more numerous and agitated, and the path ahead was now blocked, oddly, by illustrations of endos interacting with children. These illustrations were apparently also doors that could be opened by finding and pressing a button. Perhaps that was why this place looked like a daycare, maybe endos were almost like baby animatronics, and they were teaching them how to properly interact with people so one they they could grow up and become proper Glamrocks–

Wait no, that was stupid. They weren’t babies and they didn’t need to be coddled. They were just dumb robots. He must be spending too much time with Freddy.

Eventually, Gregory came up on a picture that particularly unsettled him. It was of a kid tucked into bed, looking scared, and the picture was marred by a large claw mark down the centre. He wondered who made such pictures, and why, and also why they were down here in the first place, and also why the Pizzaplex had so many endos wandering around, and why—

Scratch that, he had WAY too many questions to list off at the moment.

He pushed the button and watched as the drawing shuttered upwards, revealing what lay behind.

Gregory stepped into this new room, and furrowed his brows in confusion.

  “What the f…?” He whispered.

The room was covered floor-to-ceiling in those colourful, squishy foam tiles. In the corner sat a simple bed, seeming freshly-made; the clean white linens a stark contrast to the darkness of the room. Off to the side was a little table and chair set outfitted with crayons and drawing pads, and a super old looking TV sat next to it. On the ground next to the bed lay a neat stack of child-sized clothing. Here, like elsewhere in the basement, there were plushies of the old four characters. Plus one Gregory didn’t recognize: a yellow Freddy variant with black eyes.

  “Weird…” Gregory muttered while picking up the yellow-Freddy. “What is this place?”

The room unsettled him more than he cared to admit. The whole place was eerily clean and perfect, like it had just been set up, waiting for a young occupant.

Maybe it was supposed to be comfortable and inviting, but to Gregory, it seemed more like a prison cell.

He had let himself get distracted. A shadow passed over him, and he whirled around to find an endo mere inches from his face, an arm outstretched to grab his head.

With a strangled gasp he dropped the plush toy, and slowly backed away to scoot by the endo, maintaining direct eye contact.

That was his cue to leave. This room was a dead end, anyways, and he still needed to find a security office.

   This place is like a maze, Gregory thought frustratedly. He turned corner after corner, each hallway looking like the last. Finally he found himself in front of another of those weird endo illustrations— wait, this was where he’d started. He hadn’t tried that button yet though, and slipped under the door before it had fully opened.

Of course the security office would be the last door he tried.

Similar to the other room he’d found, it was also covered in foam tiles, though these were dusty and scuffed. There was only a single, small desk in the centre of the room, with nothing but an old monitor and one of those Freddy-head badge boxes on it.

Gregory ran over to it and snatched the security badge. “Great! Now I should be able to open Parts and—“

A shudder went through the room, and he noticed something he hadn’t before. The entire room was lined with endos. And they did not seem happy that he’d taken the badge. “Oh, come on!” He whined.

There were too many to keep an eye on all at once, he realised with a chill. That left his favourite method of dealing with danger: hightailing it the heck outta there.

Gregory collapsed in front of the door to Parts and Service, gasping. He’d ran all the way back from the security office and now had a horrible stitch in his side.

  “…I found him earlier and locked him up in Lost and Found.”

Gregory peeked through the window to find the source of the voice. The security guard, Vanessa, was talking to Freddy.

  “That is great news. He can be returned to his parents,” Freddy replied, sounding much better than he did earlier.

  “He can’t.” Turns out, there’s no record of him.”

  “How unfortunate,” Freddy said nonchalantly. “If you re-attach my head, I could go look for him now.”

  Wait... Re-attach his head?

  “His name is Gregory…” Vanessa pointed a finger at him. “You know how I know that? His Fazwatch kept repeating it, in your voice. ‘Gregory? Are you there, Gregory?’” She mimicked.

  Uh oh, Gregory thought, but Freddy didn't miss a beat. “Vanessa, all the Fazwatches sound like me. It is the default voice option.”

Vanessa sighed. “Something weird’s going on tonight. I know it is. You better not be a part of this, Freddy.” She sounded exhausted all of a sudden. “If you are, you’re scrap. I’ll have Parts and Service slap your casing on a new endo and Monty’ll run the shows in the meantime. You hear me? Now hang out here for a while, I…I have to find that kid.” She turned and left through a door in the back of the room.

  “Vanessa! Do not leave me like this!” Freddy pleaded, but went ignored.

Gregory waited until he was certain that Vanessa was gone before he burst into the room. “Freddy!”

  “Gregory!” Freddy’s eyes lit up upon seeing the boy. “I am so glad you are here, and that you are okay!”

Freddy was laying on a table inside a large metal and glass pod, like some sort of testing chamber you’d seen in sci-fi movies. Large wires and tubes connected to the top of the pod and disappeared into the ceiling. A few of the wires connected to an old-fashioned monitor that sat on a table next to it.

  “Could you use the console and let me out?” He asked.

  “What’d they do to you?” Gregory demanded while messing around on the monitor's keyboard. He found an application named “Power Upgrade.”

  “Routine maintenance!” Freddy responded brightly. “Though, I am not sure why the security guard performed it instead of one of the regular technicians. In any case, I am functioning much more better… now…” He faltered. “Hmm, grammar function error. Perhaps I am not at peak performance. Could you… reattach my head?”

  “I dunno.” Gregory eyed the jumble of loose wires protruding from Freddy’s neck. “It looks complicated.”

  “The procedure is nearly finished, all you have to do is reconnect the wires. You are a bright kid, I believe you can do it.”

Gregory stepped inside the pod, and the door slid closed behind him. “In case of an emergency, the protective cylinder will protect important personnel outside of the protective cylinder,” The speakers said ominously. “Deactivating animatronic safety protocols now.”

Fixing Freddy wasn’t too hard, Gregory realised. The wires were colour-coded and easy to connect.

After only a couple minutes, Freddy’s head was successfully back on and they were both able to exit the cylinder.

Gregory walked over to Freddy with the intent of telling him all about what happened while they were separated, but he stumbled forwards and banged his forehead into Freddy’s stomach, exhaustion taking over.

  “Whoa, there, superstar!” Freddy exclaimed and put his hands on Gregory’s shoulders to steady him. “I believe you need to recharge.”

  “But we need to… keep moving…” He protested weakly.

Freddy gently scooped him up. “You need sleep. The security guard just searched down here, so she should not check again anytime immediately.” Freddy laid him down in a cart, draping a tarp over him like a blanket. “I will stand watch and wake you up after fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay…” Gregory conceded. His eyelids were already fluttering shut. Exhaustion overtaking his instincts to run.

  “Sleep well, superstar,” Freddy affectionately whispered to the small figure in the cart.

But Gregory was already asleep.

  “Gregory?”

Gregory stirred. Somebody was tapping his arm.

  “Time to get up, superstar. We need to keep moving.” The voice continued gently.

Nights spent on the streets had taught Gregory to be a light sleeper. He was out of the cart and on his feet before his eyes were even fully open.

  “Freddy.” He blinked, remembering his situation. “Is everything ok? How long was I out?”

  “Good morning!” Freddy said cheerfully. Err, well, I suppose it is not really morning, is it? Good quarter-to-four-AM!” He chuckled. “You were asleep for about twenty minutes. Everything is fine, I did not want to wake you, but it is time to get moving. Also, your Fazwatch beeped.”

  “Huh?” Gregory checked his watch, and found another message in his inbox.

“MAINTENANCE LOG - There's a Princess Quest 1 machine here in the building. An actual standup arcade! I guess the devs pulled it from that old mobile game. Why port it to arcade?”

Weird. “I keep getting these strange employee emails on my watch,” He complained to Freddy.

Every single one of the arcade games in the Pizzaplex were themed around a Fazbear character, whether new or from their sordid history. Gregory didn’t recall Fazbear Ent. ever having a “princess” character, though. Plus, he’d played just about every game in the Fazcade that afternoon and the name didn’t ring a bell.

It sparked his curiosity. If he wasn’t running for his life, he would have gone looking for it.

  “That is very strange indeed.” Freddy frowned. “You should probably ignore those messages, then, if they are indeed intended for employees' eyes only.”

They walked up the stairs at the back of Parts and Service, and something caught Gregory’s eye. “Freddy, look!”

There were four blueprints pinned up to the wall. It was a lot of technical jargon he didn’t understand, but through the pictures he was able to glean that each of the four Glamrocks were given special upgrades. “Check out these pictures. Chica has some sort of special voice box, Roxy has new eyes, and Monty was given better claws, and–hey look Freddy, it’s the schematics for your stomach hatch! Imagine what you could do if you had all of these upgrades!” Gregory said excitedly, gesturing at the blueprints. He had visions of creating a overpowered super-Freddy, one who could protect him from anything.

But Freddy just frowned. “Gregory… Those parts belong to my friends. I would never do anything to hurt them,” He said firmly.

  “What? But all they’ve done all night is try to hurt me!” He turned away from Freddy with a huff. “ They’d get what they deserve…” He mumbled.

  “There must be a good explanation," Freddy insisted. "They are not—“

  “—Capable of harming a guest. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Gregory cut him off bitterly.

Then it finally occurred to him. He slapped his forehead. “Stupid!”

  “What?” Freddy looked down at him, hurt.

  “Not you! Me!” He dragged his hand down his face. How could he be so stupid? The animatronics may be programmed to not harm guests, but he’d snuck in. He wasn’t in the system. No guest profile. By all accounts, he was an intruder. “I’m not a guest, I-I snuck in. That’s why they’re after me,” he confessed.

  “That is unfortunate, although it does explain a few things,” Freddy responded gently. “We will do our best to avoid them.”

Gregory glanced back around Parts and Service. “Is there anything else we can use to slow them down?” He asked, since his super-Freddy idea was shot down.

  “Well…” Freddy began tentatively, “bright lights in the eyes do cause us to briefly malfunction…”

Chapter Text

The duo quickly formed a plan for dealing with the animatronics. Freddy said that they should try to find either a Fazerblaster from Fazer Blast or a Faz-Cam from Gator Golf.

  “Fazer blast.” Was Gregory’s immediate response. It was his favourite game in the ‘plex. Plus, how could he say no to being allowed to shoot the animatronics in the face? That was way better than some dumb camera flash.

But to enter either of those games they’d need a Party Pass, which Freddy said they might be able to find in Chica’s room. And to get to Chica’s room they needed to go up her elevator here in the back of Parts and Service that led to each member’s respective green room. Unfortunately, her elevator seemed to be out-of-order. So was everyone else’s, except for Roxy’s.

They just had to hope she wasn’t there.

They didn’t really have a plan for what they’d do after getting the Fazerblaster, either. Just continue hiding from the security guard and shoot any animatronics that got close until 6:00 a.m. rolled around, Gregory supposed. The night was more than half over now, anyway.

The elevator came to a stop and Freddy (with Gregory hiding inside) stepped out into a storage room behind Roxy’s green room. It occurred to Gregory that this is probably how he got into Freddy’s green room after the friendly technician rebooted him after the concert. Except they would have had to have taken Freddy’s elevator that time, and now it wasn’t working. Odd that they would be out-of-order all of a sudden.

Freddy walked towards the door, but stopped before he could trigger the motion sensor as if listening to something. “Roxy…?” Freddy whispered.

  “Hey, why are we stop—“ Then Gregory heard it, too.

Just beyond the door, Roxy was crying. The egotistical, confident, robotic Roxanne Wolf was crying.

Her unfiltered, anguished sobs were plainly audible even through the heavy metal door separating them from her.

Gregory’s spine chilled. The sobbing sounded so real, so human.

Why would somebody program a children’s entertainment bot to be capable of such potent displays of emotion? Robots shouldn’t even have emotions, Gregory thought.

But then again, he stopped to consider, Freddy had spent the entire night protecting him. He’d even blatantly ignored the security guard’s direct orders for it. And… he’d been so gentle, so compassionate, when Gregory had told him about his life. There’s no way Freddy had been programmed to do that, either.

It was almost as if, Gregory thought with an uncomfortable squirm in his stomach, they were sentient.

Freddy cleared his throat (or made the equivalent sound for a robot) and stepped forwards, activating the door.

Roxy was standing in front of her mirror, like she was when Gregory spied on her from the vents. Instead of hyping herself up, though, her hands were gripping the vanity and her face was crumpled into a wobbly grimace. If she had tears, Gregory could imagine that they’d be streaming down her face, but as she was a machine, her face was bone dry.

She whirled around the moment the door opened and focused her glassy eyes on who’d just barged in on her. “Freddy,” she said quietly, she dropped her gaze and slumped her shoulders, “get out of my room.”

  “Roxanne. Are you alright?” Freddy stepped forwards and gingerly extended a paw towards her in a comforting manner.

   No! Gregory cursed him internally. Now is not the time for an animatronic counselling session, Freddy! We need to get out of here! He hoped and prayed that Roxy’s special eyes couldn’t see into the chest cavity.

  “I said GET OUT OF MY ROOM! ” Roxy snarled with a crack in her voice and unsheathed her claws. Even Gregory could tell that it was a half-hearted attempt, and that her ferocity did not reach her vivid yellow eyes.

Freddy stepped back, hurt, and gave the wolf one last weighted stare. “Okay,” he finally sighed. “Okay, I’m going.” And turned and exited her room without another word.

They said nothing to each other on the way to Chica’s room. Gregory was more unnerved by the concept of a crying animatronic itself than actually feeling sorry for her. As far as he was concerned, Roxy could have her little pity party if it meant she wasn’t chasing him around. Freddy, on the other hand, seemed deeply troubled by Roxanne’s emotional display.

At least Chica wasn’t home as well. Freddy let Gregory out of his chest cavity and he noticed the colourful Party Pass right away on Chica’s vanity. He snatched it up and turned to go back inside Freddy, but stopped when he looked up at his face. “Freddy? You good?” He asked hesitantly. Freddy’s stoic metal face was contorted into what could almost be called a sorrowful expression.

  “Roxy…” Freddy sighed mournfully, “she has not been… herself recently. None of my friends have.”

  “I dunno, maybe it could have something to do with the fact that they’re trying to kill people? ” Gregory huffed. He’d meant it sarcastically, but Freddy seemed to seriously ponder his words.

  “I do not understand,” he murmured, “why they have changed. Have I changed, too? It is like there are gaps in my memory, things I should remember but do not. I have asked the technicians, but they insist there is nothing wrong with my memory bank. Perhaps I have not been myself either, and I just do not remember. Has…” he paused as his concerned expression shifted into what might be called a panicked one. “Has this scenario happened before? Has a child or other innocent bystander found themselves trapped after-hours, and my programming has forced me to harm them? Have I—“

  “H-hey, whoa, Freddy…” Gregory interrupted, distressed at this shift in conversation. “Stop it, don't think about that,” he pleaded. “I’m sure you’re fine. You wouldn’t hurt anybody! A-and this place has security cameras and stuff, right? If anything did happen, everybody would know about it and this place would be shut down. And you said the technicians said your memory was fine, so… there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

Gregory really, really did not like the implications of what Freddy was saying. But there was no way it was the case, it would’ve been all over the news. So everything was fine.

Except for all the things that were not fine already.

…So maybe it wasn’t all that hard to believe. But no, not Freddy. Freddy was nice. Gregory couldn’t imagine the bear ever raising his claws with the intent to harm.

Freddy focused his gaze back to the child in front of him, and rested a paw on the boy's head, ruffling his scruffy hair. “You are right. Thank you, Gregory.” He nodded with a slight smile. “The Pizzaplex is the safest place around, after all. We would know if something was amiss,” he said, more confidently now.

   Case and point, Gregory thought, leaning into the animatronic’s affectionate touch. Freddy’s paws were gentle and comforting. He’d never hurt anybody.

He bit back some choice words he had to say about the so-called “safety” of this establishment, though.

  “Shall we make our way to Fazer Blast now?” Freddy questioned cheerfully, removing his paw from the child’s head and opening his stomach hatch.

  “Heck yeah!” Gregory gave the animatronic a big grin, and hopped inside.

Gregory always thought the theming in Fazer Blast was cool, even if it didn’t really have anything to do with Freddy. Pitch-black walls dotted with glowing stars paired with neon vintage arcade-style carpets greeted you when you walked in, along with aliens, rockets, and other “spacey” motifs. The premise of Fazer Blast was a fast-paced, outer-space, laser-tag-meets-capture-the-flag alien invasion extravaganza. Which was an accurate description, as Gregory had found out from playing it earlier. Except the other kids seemed more interested in frying their friends’ retinas than actually playing the game properly and defending your base from the STAFF bots “aliens.”

The entry of Fazer Blast was accessible without a party pass, and featured its own attractions such as a galactic-themed snack bar and even a mini Ferris wheel.

No security bots were to be seen, only a lone bot stationed outside the elevator that brings you to the Fazer Blast game asking for Party Passes.

Gregory snooped around the Snack Space: Defeat your hunger! snack bar and stole another can of Fizzy Faz from the cooler behind the counter, much to Freddy’s chagrin.

  “Stealing is not a commendable act, Gregory,” Freddy reprimanded him.

Gregory snorted in response. “We’ve been doing it all night, why chicken-out now?” He popped the lid of the can and took a sip of the sugary orange-flavoured beverage. “Besides, I haven’t eaten in like, eight hours, let me have this.”

  “You have not eaten in eight hours?! ” Freddy gaped at him. Suddenly, stealing was a-okay. He strode behind the counter and tossed Gregory a pre-packaged soft pretzel and a sachet of apple slices with the order to “sit down and eat and no Fazer Blast until you’re done.”

Gregory was more than happy to comply.

  “What are you waiting for, superstar?” Freddy prompted cheerfully and gestured to the door that would take Gregory to the game after the child had finished his snack.

  “…Just a sec,” he replied absently, something on the side wall had caught his attention: a door labelled “no entry” with a badge symbol on the wall above it. “I’m gonna try to find another one of those security badge thingies, maybe it’ll come in handy.”

  “Good idea, but be careful.”

Gregory was able to slip through the door no trouble, and found a tiny, cramped security office only a few steps down the hallway. He expected something bad to happen, but no alarms or crazy animatronics appeared upon taking the security badge. The security badge wasn’t the only thing of interest in the office. Some sort of ticket to Bonnie Bowl sat on the desk, with a sticky-note attached to it reading “Please take all Monty Mystery Mix to the frozen treat storage behind Bonnie Bowl to keep it out-of-reach from Chica. Thank you. –Management.”

Huh. He carefully peeled off the sticky-note so as to not rip the Bowling Pass and left it on the desk where he found it, but took the pass and shoved it into one of his cargo shorts pockets.

He met back up with Freddy in the Fazer Blast waiting room, where he knelt down to look Gregory in the eyes.

  “I am very sorry, but I will not be able to accompany you. All the flashing lights would disorient me and I do not fit into the helmets,” Freddy said regretfully.

Gregory found it both ironic and disappointing that Freddy wasn’t even able to play his own game. But he flashed him a reassuring grin. “I’ll be fine. I played this game earlier! Besides, there’s no other players. All I gotta do is blast the dumb STAFF bots and I’ll be back with the blaster in no time!”

Freddy smiled warmly at him. “In that case,” he stood up and raised his paw in mock-salute, “good luck, Space Cadet.”

  “Roger, Captain!” Gregory responded with equally-exaggerated seriousness and raised his own hand in salute, before disappearing through the door to enter the game.

Chapter Text

Gregory absolutely crushed at Fazer Blast. Video games—and by extension lazer tag, apparently—were one of the few things Gregory actually felt competent in. The initials “GGY” weren’t plastered all over the high score-boards in the Fazcade for nothing.

Even Chica, who had somehow found her way into the area, didn’t slow him down. A well-aimed shot to the eyes was all it took to incapacitate the chicken for a short while. Her pained flailing around reminded Gregory of that one time he flung sweet-and-sour sauce into the eyes of an older kid who’d been picking on him at school. Accidentally, of course.

After successfully capturing and defending the three opposing coloured bases, Gregory dropped his Fazerblaster and helmet into the return box and entered the winner’s elevator, where supposedly he’d be awarded a golden Fazerblaster that he could take outside the game.

Gregory dashed out of the elevator into the lounge before the doors had fully slid open and took in his prize as it sat on its pedestal. “Oh, heck yeah,” he whispered as he picked up the blaster and turned it over in his hands, admiring his bounty. So what if it was just a regular ‘ol Fazerblaster with a coat of gold paint. It was his and he’d won it all on his own. It wasn’t just a fun gadget he could use to defend himself, it was physical proof, however small, of his achievements. That maybe he was good at something. He shook his head to dispel his ruminations and stuck the handle of the blaster in his pocket, then gave himself a minute to enjoy the winners lounge.

It was an octagonal-shaped room with glass walls suspended over the Fazer Blast arena. In addition to the Fazerblaster pedestal, remnants of a victory feast of pizza littered the counter in the middle of the room. Red benches sat in front of the windows so you could sit down to watch others play whilst basking in your own victory. What intrigued Gregory the most was the presence of yet another uncovered vent there next to the elevator, practically begging to be investigated.

He sent a quick message to Freddy informing him on what he was doing, and crawled into the vent. He kinda hoped one of those weird musical spider bots would be inside to chase him, as he was itching to give his new gun a try.

As if on cue, a faint musical tinkling could be heard and one of those odd little dudes dropped down from another section of the vent behind him.

Gregory turned around as best he could in the cramped space and aimed the blaster at the creature's round black eyes. He squeezed the trigger, blinking at the sudden brightness as the beam of light reflected off the aluminium walls and momentarily illuminated the vent. The shot was a direct hit, yet the creature barely flinched.

Too late did Gregory realise that these musical vent bots were simply just wind-up toys, if a little aggressive. They weren’t nearly as advanced as the Glamrocks, or even those dumb STAFF bots. These guys were toys; they didn’t have actual working eyes. Therefore, the Fazerblaster would do nothing.

Gregory swore, and crawled through the rest of the vent as quickly as he could. He wondered who made the creepy little dudes, and why they liked to chase people through vents.

He made it to the end of the vent, and stepped out onto a metal grate platform. It appeared that he was up on the catwalks behind the Fazer Blast set pieces, which he would have found super cool if not for the more intriguing thing in front of him.

The catwalks led to a door, which wouldn’t be anything out-of-the-ordinary, except there was a large window next to it, and Gregory could see the odd furnishings that lay in the room behind. First, a normal-looking security desk, with a few monitors on it. In one corner of the room sat a cot, its bedding messy and looked like it had seen recent use. In the other corner was a nondescript black arcade cabinet, but the room was too dark to make out what the title of it might be. He tried the door, but to no avail. The door had no handle, and didn’t seem to be motion triggered either. Maybe it required a secret passcode or had some kind of sci-fi retina scanner? Gregory ruminated on the possibilities.

None of that was the thing that intrigued him the most about the room, though. Spray painted on the wall above the cot in bold purple were letters spelling out “ VANNY,” and a cartoony rabbit head painted next to them.

  “Hey, Freddy, I found some sorta secret hideout up here above Fazer Blast!” He whispered into his watch excitedly. “I think it belongs to that rabbit lady I was talking about! It seems like her name is… Vanny?”

  “Vanny?” Freddy mused. “I do not wish to cast suspicion recklessly, however ‘Vanny’... it sounds like it could be a portmanteau of ‘Vanessa’ and ‘Bunny.’”

Gregory had no idea what a portmanteau was, but he didn’t say so. He understood the crux of what Freddy was implying, and it felt like a bucket of icy-cold water had been dumped over his head. “You think the security guard is the one in the rabbit costume?”

  “As I said, I can not say for certain,” Freddy said. “It is merely speculation, as I do not personally know anybody else whose name begins with a ‘Va’ sound, and Officer Vanessa is the only one who would be here after hours. All the more reason we should still do our best to avoid her.”

  “…Roger,” Gregory replied shakily into his watch. The room that had filled him with curiosity a minute ago now felt potently hostile. He had the irrational fear that the room was listening, and would report their whole conversation back to “Vanny” and she would appear with that horrible knife and—

Gregory scrambled away from the door and shook his head. He was just being paranoid now.

Quickly and quietly he retreated back the way he came, anxious to return to Freddy. He mulled over their conversation in his head as he crawled.

The worst part about it all? It made sense . The security guard was probably the only employee in the whole building with a full security clearance, meaning she could go anywhere she liked without hindrance. She would also have complete access over the security footage, so she could easily wipe any trace of her crimes. And what was it Vanessa had said right before the other animatronics began hunting him down? “I already alerted the others”?

Yeah, that sentence had much scarier implications with this newfound knowledge.

That’s not to say everything lined up perfectly, he still had no idea why “Vanny” would bother changing back and forth from her security uniform to the rabbit suit, or why Freddy couldn’t see her, or why she would be trying to kill him in the first place.

He took a minute to breathe and compose himself, then made it back to the lounge where the exit elevator that would take him back to the lobby and to Freddy resided. Another short elevator ride later, and he was back to the Fazer Blast lobby, prize in hand to show off to Freddy.

The bear did not notice his return right away. He was sitting on one of the many couches clustered around the lobby, seemingly lost in thought. Freddy’s pre-recorded voice echoed through the room as the Fazer Blast spiel played in the lobby for the umpteenth time that night. “…Calling all recruits! Fazer Blast is a high-intensity space combat simulation! Suit up and save the universe as you blast everyone and everything with high-tech laser effects! Blast strangers, blast your friends…”

   “Gregory!” Freddy noticed him with a start, quickly plastered a smile on his face. “I watched you play on the screens. You were quite impressive!”

  “Uh, thanks, Freddy,” Gregory replied with a half-hearted attempt at a grin. Freddy was acting weird. He hesitated before deciding to ask him about it. “Everything okay?”

  “Gregory, be honest,” Freddy addressed him bluntly, faint apprehension in his voice. “Am I really that annoying…?” He gestured towards the speakers that were playing his spiel.

Gregory just blinked at him, taken aback. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Freddy to say, but it sure wasn’t that. He bit back the laugh that was threatening to crawl out of his throat at the absurdity of it all, and addressed the anxious bear. “Nah, you’re good.” He couldn’t stop the amused grin that crept onto his face. “Though I’m surprised, you wouldn’t think the mascot of a sleazy company like Fazbear would be too worried about being annoying.”

He meant it good-naturedly, but clearly it was the wrong thing to say. Any bit of relaxation Freddy had gained at Gregory’s initial reassurance was immediately replaced by a stiffening of his shoulders and a dejected expression on his face.

  “Mascot…” Freddy broke his gaze from Gregory and fixed his eyes on the carpet. “Is that truly all I am?”

Gregory panicked, worried that he had offended his friend. Clearly this was something that had been bothering him for a while. He walked over and flung himself upside-down over the back of the sofa beside Freddy, earning a surprised glance from the animatronic. “All right, spill.” Gregory looked—up? Down? However that worked when you’re upside down—directly into his eyes, ignoring the way the electric blue irises seemed to stare right into him. “Where’s this coming from?”

Freddy paused to consider a response. “What does it mean to be a Freddy?”

  “Uh…” Gregory had no idea how to respond to that.

But Freddy continued without waiting for an answer. “Am I simply… mass produced? Code that can be copied and inserted into any scrap of metal and circuitry? Are there other Pizzaplexes with other Freddys out there? All the endos in the basement, are they all ‘me’s,  just without a shell?” Freddy looked over to the merchandise counter, where plushies, keychains, t-shirts, and more, all in Freddy’s likeness, could be seen. “Is there something wrong with me for wanting to be… more than just a ‘mascot’? I have disobeyed the security officer’s orders multiple times tonight. Is this ‘independent thinking for what I believe to be right,’ or merely ‘faulty coding’ and I deserve to be scrapped like she said?” He finished with a low sigh.

That’s… a lot to unpack. Gregory thought. Part of him was worried that by opening his mouth he’d make things worse again, but he blurted out whatever came to mind anyways. “I dunno, dude. I’m, like, eleven. This is way too philosophical for me.” Gregory was starting to get dizzy after hanging upside down for so long. He pushed himself backwards into a somersault—almost rolling right off the sofa and banging his knees off the coffee table—and sat down, leaning against Freddy’s arm. His head nestled in the crook underneath Freddy’s red shoulder pad. “But, for what it’s worth, I say don’t worry about it. I mean, you’re here now. Who cares what your programming says or if there’s other Freddys out there somewhere, that doesn’t change who you are now or who you can be, yeah? A normal robot wouldn’t be able to ignore their coding to protect a dumb little kid like me. And, and… I just think you’re cool, a-and…” He trailed off, cheeks reddening and feeling that he’d said too much.

Before Gregory could jump off the sofa and find some corner to hide in from embarrassment, Freddy reached his arm around Gregory and pulled him closer into a side-hug, trapping him in place. “You are right, superstar.” Freddy said, his usual cheerful demeanour restored. “I truly appreciate your affirmations. Ruminating on what I cannot control will not help you survive this night.” He released Gregory and stood up, extending a paw. “Now come, let us continue on. Where do you suggest we head next?”

  “Hm…” Gregory said, taking Freddy’s paw. “Do you think we could go look for one of those map bots?”

  “Why? Does your map need to be updated?”

  “Nah.” Gregory responded, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I wanna give my blaster a test run.”

As it turns out, they did not end up going looking for a Map-Bot. Freddy suggested—albeit hesitantly—that they make use of Gregory’s newfound bowling pass and go to Bonnie Bowl, as the attraction has seen a heavy decrease in popularity in recent years, (though he wouldn’t elaborate as to why) therefore security presence should be minimal.

They made their way through the atrium towards the entrance of the bowling alley with no issues, and Gregory handed his pass to the STAFF bot patiently waiting outside the elevator. Thank goodness the ticket bots aren’t programmed to restrict entry after-hours. Inside the elevator, the bright fluorescent lights made something suddenly quite noticeable. He was shocked he hadn’t noticed it before.

Freddy was damaged.

His usually pristine and glossy orange-and-red paint job was pockmarked with scratches, scuffs, and cracks. Especially on his back, where the creepy moon dude had dragged him through the basement.

Gregory had been so concerned about his own safety that he had neglected to think about Freddy. This was all because he had to go and get himself locked inside the Pizzaplex. Then again, Freddy didn’t seem too bothered by his damage. Plus, he’s a robot, Parts and Service can fix him up in no time, Gregory reasoned. Still, he felt a pang of guilt looking at the condition his favourite animatronic was in.

The elevator doors slid open with a chime, and he got his first glimpse of this area of the Pizzaplex

Bonnie Bowl was your quintessential retro-styled bowling alley, filled with neon marquees and bowling lanes oiled to a glossy, almost mirror-like finish.

All in all, he thought it looked pretty cool. He’d never been to this part of the Pizzaplex before. Come to think of it, he’d never been bowling, period.

Freddy, on the other hand, seemed less-than-enthused to be there. Every step into the attraction almost seemed to physically pain him, and Gregory was not sure why.

In an attempt to distract him, Gregory asked Freddy he could ride on his shoulders, as it would put him out of reach of the STAFF bots’ flashlights (and definitely not because it would give him a better vantage point to headshot said bots).

From his perch atop Freddy’s broad shoulders, he surveyed the bowling alley for his first target. He locked his sights on the weird, clown-looking bot running the ice cream counter. Perfect.

  “Hey, Freddy!” Gregory sang, resting his elbows on his top hat. “Can we walk to that counter over there?”

  “Why? Would you like some ice cream, superstar?” Freddy obliged and began walking towards the counter.

Gregory didn’t respond, and instead raised his Fazerblaster, lined up his shot, and pulled the trigger. The beam of light hit the ice cream bot directly in the face, and it started twitching violently, before shuddering still altogether, temporarily deactivated. Freddy halted in surprise at the bright bolt of light that was shot from above him. “What did you do that for, Gregory?” Freddy looked up disapprovingly at the boy, who was cackling evilly on top of him.

  “It looked creepy!” Was his only defence, still cackling. It felt good.

Freddy sighed. Though the corner of his own mouth was twitching in amusement, he did not want to encourage the boy in these antics. “Might I remind you that we got the blaster for self-defence only .”

  “Okay, mom .” Gregory stuck out his tongue, even though Freddy couldn’t see him up there, before switching the topic. “Hey, while we’re here, I saw some sort of note attached to the bowling pass. About something called ‘Monty’s Mystery Mix’ being moved to the cold storage. What’s that?”

  “Ooh! Monty’s Mystery Mix is a one-of-a-kind slushie experience. The mystery is its pizza flavour. Chica goes coo-coo for it!” Freddy chuckled.

Something clicked in Gregory’s head. “Let’s find it. We could use it to distract Chica!”

  “Wonderful idea!” He let Gregory down off his shoulders and into the cold storage area of the ice cream counter.

Gregory spotted the ‘Mystery Mix’ immediately. It was in a radioactive-green bag on top of a shelf, distinct from the cardboard boxes and white industrial-sized ice cream tubs that were piled around. He grabbed the bag and triumphantly brought it back to Freddy. “I found it! Can we store it in your stomach hatch?” His fingers were already starting to numb from the freezing bag.

  “Certainly,” Freddy replied, opening his hatch. “My stomach hatch is equipped with cooling fans to prevent birthday cakes from melting. That should keep it chilled for a while.”

They left the ice cream counter. Having the bag of Mystery Mix in Freddy’s stomach hatch meant that Gregory wouldn’t be able to use it to hide for the time being. That was fine by him, his Fazerblaster was more than capable of taking out the security bots, and he could always go for a ride on Freddy’s shoulders again.

As they were walking past a stage with a sign reading “Attraction temporarily closed,” Freddy’s steps faltered. He looked up at the closed red curtains mournfully. “I… miss him,” He whispered to nobody in particular.

That snapped Gregory’s attention back to the bear, as he had been preoccupied with seeing how far away he could snipe STAFF Bots from. “Hm? Miss who?” He looked over to the stage and put two-and-two together. Gregory vaguely remembered hearing that there used to be an animatronic of the blue bunny this bowling alley was named after.

“Oh, what happened to him?” He asked hesitantly.

Freddy sat down and leaned against the stage.“I don’t know.”

Those three words were somehow worse than knowing definitively that he’d been scrapped. “He had been acting… odd, for a while. Suspicious. He would sneak out at night, frequently being found around Monty Golf. When I asked what was the matter, he told me that I 'worry too much' and gave me one of those flashy smiles of his…” Freddy sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “That was the last thing he ever said to me. Security footage from that night showed him going to the catwalks above Monty Golf. The security cameras had a malfunction after that, and by the time they came back on, there was no sign of him. Nobody has seen him since.” Freddy’s paws were clenched in fists and shaking. “Monty claims to not know anything either. He replaced Bonnie as the bassist in the band. All mentions of Bonnie in the Pizzaplex were erased. Signage, merchandise… They even remodelled his green room, gave it to Monty. The mural outside this attraction is the only evidence he ever existed.”

Gregory listened in shock. He never met this bunny animatronic, but it was clear from the way Freddy talked that he meant a lot to him. If Freddy liked him, then Gregory probably would have, too. It was weird. How had Fazbear Entertainment just… not found him? Or why not just rebuild him? They have all those spare endos lying around the basement after all.

  “I cannot go a day without thinking about him. At least if we were told he was scrapped, I would have some closure. But no, he could still be out there. Broken, barely functional, stuck in a limbo. Two years later, and I have not given up searching for him. I will search this building top to bottom as many times as I need to find evidence of one way or another.”

Gregory didn’t really know what to say after that, or how to provide any sort of comfort. He wordlessly took Freddy’s paw and they walked away from the stage together, away from the bowling alley and the memories that came with it.

Chapter Text

Gregory was hatching a plan. But he couldn’t tell Freddy, he would hate it. With any luck though, Freddy wouldn’t find out.

First things first, he needed to get down to the kitchens. So when Freddy asked where they should go next, Gregory hastily devised an excuse. “Remember earlier when you said I could try escaping from either the prize counter or the loading docks? We didn’t try the docks after. They’re by the kitchens, underneath the food court, right?”

  “That is true.” Freddy looked thoughtful. “And with your higher security level, it may be accessible to you this time. Although, I do not wish to be separated again.”

Gregory awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Darn Freddy for being so nice. His conscience was having a hard time justifying what he was planning to do. “Me neither, but it’s worth a shot. I’ve got my Fazerblaster now, and I’ll take the Mystery Mix, ‘cause Chica probably likes hanging around the kitchens,” he said, feigning nonchalance.

  “If you insist, superstar.” Freddy relented. They’d reached the vent next to the Salads and Sides counter. “I will be tracking your progress. Keep me updated with your Fazwatch.”

  “For sure.” Gregory climbed into the opening of the vent. “And don’t worry, if the docks are open I’ll come back to say goodbye.” A lie. He had no intentions of leaving just yet. He turned and began crawling through the vent without waiting for Freddy’s reply. If he looked at him with that kindly expression one more time, Gregory thought he might just crack and spill his plans.

A little ways into the vent it suddenly sloped downward. Gregory let go of the bag of Mystery Mix and scrambled for any sort of purchase, but the aluminium walls were too slick and he couldn’t stop himself from sliding down after it like it was one of those old crappy metal slides at the playground with the rough seams that scrape you as you go down and give you the mother-of-all friction burns.

Down, down he went in a boxy spiral for what felt like a couple stories before it abruptly dumped him out on the concrete floor in front of some large vats.

He stayed there on the floor for a moment, groaning. Oh, he’s gonna be so sore if he survives this night.

Oblivious to the boy’s grumblings, Freddy cheerfully informed him that he was in front of the Fizzy Faz syrup vats.

With a final groan, he peeled himself off the ground and picked up the bag of slushie mix where it had landed a few feet away. Thank gosh it didn’t burst open, the last thing he needed was to have sticky pizza-flavoured goop all over him and become a walking Chica magnet.

No time to dawdle, though. He could already hear Chica prowling up ahead. He creeped past the massive Fizzy Faz tanks. Seriously, those things were massive. The room looked more like an oil refinery than a place where kids’ novelty soda was produced.

He found another security office and snatched the badge from it, and beyond that was the pizza kitchen.

Gregory didn’t pay any mind to the abundance of pizza-making machinery or the STAFF bots who were making pizzas for delivery. His sights were set on one thing: the trash compactor at the far side of the kitchen.

Chica was there too, breathing down the STAFF bots’ necks while they made the pizzas.

He needed some sort of a distraction so he could get over to the trash compactor without alerting her. There were some cans stacked on a table beside the entrance where he was. He picked up a can of tomato paste and, with a moment of deliberation, chucked it at the head of a STAFF bot then sprinted behind a cheese dispenser to watch the chaos unfold.

  “Stewie, I said ‘hand me’ the can, why did you throw it at me?” the STAFF bot emotionlessly accused the bot beside it.

  “I did not throw it,” The other bot (named Stewie?) replied in the same flat cadence.

  “Do not lie Stewie I know you have been waiting to get back at me ever since I put Not Meat in your hat.”

  “I said I did not throw it— you were the one who put Not Meat in my hat?”

Now all the STAFF bots in the room had their attention fixed on the two bickering bots. Chica, too, was watching it go down like it was a prime-time drama show, momentarily distracted from her pizza-seeking endeavours.

Gregory took this opportunity to get to the compactor. He quickly unscrewed the cap and doused the garbage in pizza-flavoured slush (which was more like pizza-flavoured soup at that point), before retreating under a table next to the compactor button.

It didn’t take long for Chica to sense the Mystery Mix. She whipped her head over to the compactor with excitement. “I smell pizza!” (The animatronics can smell? Gregory would have to puzzle that one out later.)

She clunked over to the compactor, and began stuffing her beak with the Monty’s Mystery Garbage. Now’s my chance! Gregory reached up from underneath his table and slammed his palm into the button that started the compactor.

And then everything went wrong.

Chica didn’t notice the compactor closing down on her at first, but then a pipe got wedged vertically, jamming the hydraulics from pressing down further.

She finally noticed the compactor overhead trying to crush her, and started to move out of the way.

Desperately, Gregory ran full speed at Chica and barreled into her, eliciting a surprised bawk. It had the desired effect. Chica slammed backwards into the pipe that was blocking the machine and knocked it over. Gregory barely had time to roll out of the way before the compactor slammed down, pinning Chica underneath.

Gregory tried to catch his breath. That was too close. A second slower and he would’ve become a pancake.

Slowly the machine lifted back up to its original position, and Gregory got a look at Chica. Her casing was cracked and shattered in places, revealing her endoskeleton; her head was turned to the side at the moment of impact, causing her eyes to squeeze out of their sockets; one of her arms was bent at the wrong angle; garbage was smushed all over her.

And she was not deactivated.

She lunged forwards, using her good arm to wrap her claws around Gregory’s ankle. “Get off, get off, get off!” He screeched, kicking her in the face. One more kick and her beak snapped clean off, but that wasn’t enough to loosen her grip. The animatronic chicken began falling down into the garbage disposal below, dragging down Gregory with her.

SPLAT.

  “Eeaauuggghhhh.” Gregory cringed, scrambling out of the trash heap he’d fallen into and frantically swiping at his clothes. He wasn’t a squeamish kid by any means, he’d slept behind dumpsters before. Heck, he’d even eaten out of them, before he ate a burger that was a little bit too old and ended up violently ill for two days before the police found him curled up in an alleyway practically on death’s door.

But this was a special kind of gross. Heaps and heaps of old food and cans and pizza dough that was practically its own ecosystem at this point filled the room. With every movement he made he could hear critters skittering away from the garbage he displaced. Some unknown liquid had soaked into his back where he landed, making his skin crawl. Something tickled the back of his neck and when he brushed his hand along his collar a roach came off on it, which he promptly flung away with a shriek.

And the smell. The less said about it, the better. It took every ounce of his willpower to swallow down the bile in his throat and not add the contents of his stomach to the mix.

Chica, it seemed, was finally down for good. So at least it wasn’t all for nothing.

Gingerly he crept over to where she lay, watching his step as to not squish any critters underfoot. Her face was horrific. If the damage from the trash compactor wasn’t bad enough, now she was covered in gunk and a jagged, gaping hole took up the space where her beak once was. A far cry from the sparkly, cheerful rockstar who performed on stage mere hours ago. He almost felt bad for her. Almost.

Speaking of her beak, it landed not far from her. When he picked it up, something came with it, dangling by a few wires from the back of it. Her voice box.

  Freddy’s only objection to the upgrades was that he didn’t want to hurt his friends… but maybe he wouldn’t refuse if it was an “accident”! Gregory mused. Part of him hated the idea of deceiving his… friend? Could he call Freddy Fazbear his friend? In any case, the other part of him thought of the blueprints they’d seen in Parts and Service and how it described Chica’s voice box could make a vocal pitch that stunned other animatronics, and what Freddy would be able to do with that ability.

He slipped the beak into his cargo shorts with a self-satisfied grin, his conscience tamped down for now.

Gregory’s Fazwatch beeped repeatedly with messages. Apparently his “locator map signal” had lost connection when he fell down into the garbage heap, sending Freddy into a panic. He hastily sent Freddy a message assuring that he was ok and had just fallen down the trash disposal. He didn’t mention anything about Chica, he’d cross that bridge later.

He took one last look at Chica’s shattered, sparking body and made his way out of the trash disposal area.

  “Ew, ew, ew.” If Gregory thought the disposal was bad, then what came next was absolutely abysmal. Firstly, it appeared he was in the sewers. Fun. And the only way to cross over the rancid water was rickety wooden planks haphazardly laid across the gaps.

And then there were the STAFF bots! They were horrifying! They were old and decrepit with oil leaking out of their eye sockets giving them inky black “tear tracks,” and had large teeth-filled grins painted on their faces. More oil smeared on their chests spelled out the phrase “IN YOUR DREAMS” which Gregory couldn’t even begin to fathom, how, why, or who painted that there.

After all that came the “trash maze” as he opted to call it.

Hoards of trash bags lined the walls floor-to-ceiling, held in place by wooden support beams every few feet. It reminded Gregory a bit like mine shafts, like the ones in a blocky computer game he liked playing, and it was just as twisty and dark and labyrinthine as those.

He pulled the collar of his shirt up over the lower part of his face as he ran to mask as much of the stench as possible.

Seriously, it was an unfathomable amount of garbage. If a health inspector so much as took a peek at the state of this basement they’d probably have a heart attack and have the ‘plex shut down immediately.

Oh, and Chica was chasing him. Because of course she was. Those dang robots didn’t seem to want to stay down for long.

He thought the trash compactor would have put her out-of-commission for good—or at least until Parts and Services got their hands on her—until he heard guttural demonic screeching from behind him and turned around to see the filthy and furious chicken herself lumbering towards him. She was probably trying to either insult him or whisper sweet nothings about candy in an attempt to gain his trust, but without a voice box the only sound that came out of her gaping hole of a mouth were high-pitched electronic screeches.

Freddy, issuing him directions through the watch, told Gregory to keep going straight until he hit the STAFF bot silo, which had a staircase leading to the utility tunnels.

Gregory found a door and threw it open only to be met with a myriad of colourful sticky notes covering every surface in the room. Heads of those nightmarish STAFF bots sat in piles around the room, their white pinpricks of pupils watching him. Definitely in his top three What-the-actual-hell-is-this rooms he’d seen in this building so far. If he had time, he’d take a look at the sticky notes. Maybe they’d have some answers for all the weird crap that's been going on that night. But Chica was hot on his tail so instead he had to settle for grabbing a random handful off the desk and stuffed them into his pockets to look at later, while he ran through the room.

He burst through the doorway at the top of the stairs and found himself in a much more inhabited area of the Pizzaplex. And also caught up in the arms of his animatronic friend who was waiting for him.

  “Gregory! I am so glad to see you are safe!” Freddy exclaimed, clutching the boy into a (literal) bear hug. “I must confess, when your locator map signal cut out I…I feared the worst!”

  “Gah, Freddy! You’re smothering me!” Gregory chuckled sheepishly, and wriggled out of the bear’s strong grasp. Freddy was fretting over him like an anxious mama bird. “I’m fine, promise! But we gotta go, Chica’s chasing me!”

  “Then climb into my chest cavity, and we shall keep moving.” Freddy opened up his stomach hatch and Gregory hopped inside, grateful to take a rest after running through the sewers. He asked Freddy if they could head to Parts and Service, which was luckily not far from the laundry rooms he’d exited into. Freddy, naturally, was a bit curious at this sudden request, but Gregory waved off his questions, delaying the inevitable when he’d have to come up with some sort of explanation for where he’d found the voice box.

Gregory mulled over potential excuses in his head while they walked through the basement, and therefore was only half paying attention to where Freddy was going.

Until Freddy came to an abrupt stop, and disconnected Gregory’s Fazwatch from his ocular systems, leaving Gregory cut off from what was outside the hatch.

  “Freddy? What's going on?” Gregory questioned, a nervous edge to his voice. “Why did you turn off my vision?” The only thing he caught a glimpse of before his view was cut off was a darkened cafeteria, with chairs knocked over and strewn around… and maybe some flashes of the colour red?

  “You should not see this, superstar,” was all Freddy said, his voice quiet and uncharacteristically tense, before he resumed walking, this time with a much faster gait.

What had Freddy seen that he thought Gregory shouldn’t? Freddy had never hidden anything from him before. All Gregory could do was mutter a quiet “okay,” and anxiously sit in the oblivion of the stomach hatch, mind running with the possibilities of what might be lying just outside. Each of Freddy’s heavy footsteps sounded sticky, and a sharp metallic scent wafted into the stomach hatch.

An inexplicable dread bubbled in Gregory’s stomach. He felt very small, suddenly.

…Maybe it was for the best that Freddy didn’t let him see.

After a minute Freddy had turned back on the watch’s vision–they were now in the maintenance tunnels. He refused to elaborate on what was in the cafeteria, and Gregory didn’t ask.

They stayed silent like that until they reached Parts and Service.

  “And… done! Whew.” Gregory whispered as he stepped back from Freddy, having just finished the procedure in Parts and Service to give Freddy Chica’s voice box, and stepped outside of the protective cylinder to wait for Freddy to power back on.

Freddy, surprisingly, had not asked many questions when Gregory pulled a filthy little voice box out of his pocket and said that he wanted to put it inside him (he had made sure to remove the beak before doing so).

Gregory claimed it would be able to help protect him, and who was Freddy to deny such a request from his superstar?

A minute or two later Freddy booted back up and made his way out of the cylinder over to where Gregory was sitting against a wall.

  “So, how do you feel?” Gregory ventured when he saw Freddy clunking over to him.

  “Hmm…” Freddy opened and closed his jaw a couple times. “I feel a bit different, certainly, but not bad.”

His voice was slightly different, but he still unmistakably sounded like Freddy. Which was a relief, Gregory hadn’t stopped to think about whether giving Freddy Chica’s voice box would give him her voice as well. That would have been painfully awkward, Gregory winced inwardly. Although he had to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching at the mental image of Freddy with a bubbly high-pitched feminine voice.

Freddy’s inquisitive voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Where did you say you found this voice box, again?”

  Crap. Gregory hadn’t said. He quickly looked away and changed the subject. “So, t-that voice box is supposed to be able to make a noise that can stun other animatronics! Why don’t you give it a try?” He stuttered.

Freddy eyed him with a smidge of suspicion, but didn’t press the subject. He looked up and opened his mouth, and out came the worst sound Gregory had ever heard.

He clamped his hands over his ears and dropped to the floor. It sounded kinda like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the high-pitched whine of some old electronics mixed with a dying chicken. Now multiply that times ten.

  “A-are you alright, Gregory?!” Freddy asked after the shriek had stopped echoing and gazed down at the boy on the floor, curled into the fetal position, with concern and mild panic.

  “Yeah… I-I’m good.” Gregory breathed, removing his hands from his ears and waiting for the lingering ringing to subside. He accepted Freddy’s outstretched paw and got to his feet. “I guess we know it works,” he remarked shakily.

  “Yes, I suppose we do! Did it hurt you?” He still seemed concerned.

  “Nah. It was just… loud. And unpleasant.”

Freddy nodded grimly. “Yes, it took me by surprise, too. A vocal pitch that can stun animatronics…” he mused, “that sounds quite like the blueprint we saw earlier for Chica.” He looked to Gregory for an explanation. Suspicion and vague concern in his gaze.

  “I-I found it in the trash heap.” Technically that wasn’t a lie. “I, uh, heard that Chica had gotten crushed by the compactor in the past, s-so that’s probably how it got there,” He stammered out an excuse, unwilling to look Freddy in the face.

  “I see,” Freddy said after an uncomfortably long pause. “Well, how fortunate! As long as she is okay.”

  “Y-yeah, she… she’s a resilient girl,” Gregory remarked with an attempt at a disarming grin, but inwardly sighing with relief.

  “Oh, that’s right!” Gregory remembered suddenly and grabbed the fistful of colourful sticky notes out of his pocket and knelt down on the concrete, unfolding and spreading them out. “I found these in a weird room in the STAFF bot silo,” he said by way of explanation when Freddy leaned over his shoulder to see what he was doing.

He laid out his findings on the ground. He had grabbed six notes. Two pink, two yellow, a green, and a blue. Though he doubted the colours had any significance.

Each of the notes were a bit different. Some had writing, some had drawings, but they all had the same frantic, messy, chicken-scratch quality, leading him to believe that a single person was responsible for all the notes in that room.

First was a pink one, which read: “1 — West Arcade hall. 2 — Salon closet. 3 — ???”

Number two was green, and was the most polished of all the notes. It was a doodle of a young woman with bright eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail with side-swept bangs, and rainbow dyed streaks indicated with highlighter. A couple hearts were doodled around her head. Clearly, this person meant a lot to the note-writer, or they were just some kind of stalker. She seemed oddly familiar to Gregory, but he couldn’t place her.

Three, a blue one, had written on it: “I did it! I did what you wanted! I beat parts 1 and 2. What else is there? Is there another one? Tell me!”

Number four, another pink, had writing taking up every square millimetre of the page, all jumbled together and barely legible. The only words he could make out through the mess were “Ness,” “wrong,” “help,” and “coffee”…?

Five, a yellow one, featured a scratchy marker doodle of some kinda horrific, blobby rabbit creature with prominent teeth.

And six —yellow again— had only three words which took up the entirety of the page: “SAVE THE PRINCESS.”

   “Huh…” Gregory murmured and he looked over each note a second time. They were weird and didn’t make any sense to him at all. “Any idea what these could be about?” He looked over his shoulder at Freddy, who also seemed perplexed.

  “No, I am afraid I am just as confused as you, superstar.”

Gregory collected up the notes and put them back in his pocket. He stood up and rolled his neck, a faint popping noise could be heard from his joints. Then he checked his watch; it was almost 5:00 a.m.

  “Almost five,” Gregory exhaled. “This nightmare is almost over.”

Freddy nodded. “Indeed, you are almost able to leave. I am sorry that your day at the Pizzaplex had to end so… frightfully.”

Gregory snorted. “Frightfully” was an understatement.

  “In any case, where would you like to go now?” Freddy asked him.

  “Uhh…” Gregory bit his lip, deliberating. “How about the raceway? I haven’t been there yet.”

Curiosity wasn’t his only reason. He still intended to decommission the other two band members before the night was up, even if he didn’t necessarily need their upgrades to survive. He’d decided on going after Roxy next, her ability to see through walls made her the bigger threat in his book. The raceway was her turf, so he figured that would be his best bet for luring her out. Plus, the first of the cryptic sticky notes he’d read sounded like directions for something, and the salon just so happened to be in the raceway. So he’d check it out, maybe whatever was there would help explain the rest of the notes.

Chapter Text

Roxy’s Raceway was in a state of disrepair. According to Freddy, it was undergoing construction to add new sections to the track, however the new concrete kept cracking due to a suspected sinkhole in the foundation. Therefore, the Raceway was closed until further notice. This included the Glamrock Beauty Salon.

Despite this, there was little security to keep people out of the attraction. Just a construction wall at the entrance, a few padlocked doors, and the standard STAFF bot patrols.

The mess from the construction wasn’t enough to take away from the impressiveness of the area. Roxy’s Raceway was probably the single largest room in the ‘plex, bigger even then the atrium. Faux rust-coloured cliffs towered overhead, along with artificial cacti and rustic-wooden lamp posts which gave the whole area a western, “Route 66” vibe. Cassie had always complained that it didn’t fit Roxy’s aesthetic at all, and that she deserved something more glamorous . According to her father, a technician for the Pizzaplex, The area was originally designed to be for Foxy, before Roxanne Wolf was created as his replacement. Which didn’t really make much sense either, as Foxy’s whole shtick was being a pirate, not a cowboy.

In any case, Gregory still thought the raceway looked cool. But not as cool as Fazer Blast.

Gregory decided to check out the salon before going after Roxy. His security level was more than high enough to enter it without issue. When he pushed open the door, the hinges emitted a loud creak and a faint musty smell entered his nose, reinforcing just how long it’d been since guests had last been there. His footsteps left prints in the layer of dust coating the floor as he stepped deeper into the darkened salon, with Freddy following closely behind. The place was deathly dark and quiet and still, the only sounds being their footsteps and the faint whirring of Freddy’s internal fans. He walked past the salon chairs, washbasins, and a rack of multicoloured bottles of nail polish reflecting and shimmering in the faint light coming from Freddy’s eyes. He soon noticed that Freddy’s eyes weren’t the only source of light in the building. A dim glow could be seen peeking out through under the door of a supply closet.

Fazerblaster in hand, he wrapped his free hand around the doorknob and gingerly pulled it open, holding his breath in fear that something—or someone—may be lying in wait behind.

But what he actually found behind the door was almost more surprising.

It was indeed a supply closet, a pretty narrow but long one. Shelves lined the walls on either side filled with bottles of shampoo, hairspray, boxes of hair dye, anything and everything you’d expect to have in a beauty salon. But in the back of the closet, casting an pale eerie glow on the rows of product, sat a lone arcade cabinet. Simple, nondescript, and titled in white letters: Princess Quest.

His jaw dropped. Multiple things going through his head at once. Oh hey it’s that weird arcade game I keep hearing about! But why was it here of all places? And why did the sticky note lead him to it?

Maybe he’d finally have some answers if he actually played the dang thing. He turned around to Freddy and pleaded for them to stop and play it. Freddy had no idea why Gregory was so keen on playing an old arcade game, but he was more than happy to agree if it made the boy happy and gave him a reprieve from all the stress.

He approached the cabinet almost hesitantly. The thing felt more like an urban legend or a cryptid of some kind with what he’d heard about it.

The screen was set to the list of high scores, all of the top ten spots belonging to a person bearing the initials “LSC”.

He pressed play.

If he wasn’t so focused on the novelty of finding the game, he might’ve noticed that it didn’t require him to insert any money. Nor was the cabinet itself hooked up to any visible power source.

The game itself didn’t seem to be anything special. You played as a glowing yellow princess who had to traverse a fortress to light lanterns and collect keys whilst avoiding these inky-black and creepy rabbit-like monsters. The same monster, he noticed, that was doodled on one of the sticky notes.

Upon collecting a purple key, he backtracked to the large wooden door outfitted with a matching purple lock. He entered the door.

Behind lay a pitch-black room, the darkness pierced only by a narrow strip of hallway down the centre of the screen. As he went down the hallway, the screen began to slowly zoom out. Until it stopped, and the hallway ended in a dead end.

Then something appeared out of the void.

The best way Gregory could’ve described it was a blobby amalgamation of the rabbit enemies, dozens of their little white eyes and mouths scattered all over the blob-like body, all opened as if screaming in pain. In the centre of the blob was a larger face, this one with a gaping, purple-coloured maw. 

Even through the simple, pixelated graphics of the game, the thing was horrific to look at.

Garbled purple text appeared on the bottom, then the whole screen began to glitch before cutting to black entirely.

And… that was it. No “Game Over,” no “The End,” not even an error message or a bluescreen. Just a fade to black and it was back to displaying the high scores screen, Gregory’s inputted initials now holding the number 4 spot on the leaderboard.

If he wasn’t so baffled, he would have maybe been slightly miffed about not getting top place.

  “4th place? Well done! Did you have fun playing that arcade, superstar?” Freddy’s voice snapped him back to reality. He tended to tunnel vision when playing games.

  Uh… yeah. Lots of… fun. Mhm,” Gregory mumbled, finally tearing his gaze from the arcade screen. Did Freddy not notice how weird the game was? Apparently not, as when he looked back, Freddy was simply looking at him with an encouraging smile.

He pulled the sticky notes out of his pocket again and flicked through them. It was now clear that at least most of them were about Princess Quest. Number one gave him directions to the first arcade cabinet, so he had to assume the other locations on the note led to the other two instalments. Note number three was about someone—the writer of the notes, playing “1 and 2” and not being able to find something—presumably arcade cabinet 3. Note five had the doodle of the same rabbit enemies from the game. And note six, which simply read “SAVE THE PRINCESS” seemed pretty self-evident.

That left notes two and four unexplained, the one with the drawing of a woman and the one with the jumble of words. Did they connect to the games somehow, too?

  Whatever, Gregory thought, stuffing the notes back in his pockets. It wasn’t important. Making up conspiracy theories about some dumb arcade game wasn’t gonna help him survive. He needed to come up with a plan to decommission the other two animatronics, one where Freddy wouldn’t get suspicious of his intentions either.

He turned away from the arcade cabinet and left the salon with Freddy, focusing on his task at hand.

But still thoughts of the game lingered in his brain, like an itch that couldn’t quite be scratched.

Like a sign from the heavens did Gregory receive an idea on how to deal with Roxy. Except it wasn’t from the heavens at all, it was a well-timed internal email that his watch somehow received again (geez this company needed better cyber security), this one about how they were having trouble with Roxanne always getting in the way of workers trying to test drive on the track, even reports of her wrecking the driver-assist bots.

Well in that case, Gregory thought devilishly, it was time for some vehicular wolfslaughter.

He had to play his cards right. Stopping at the edge of the racetrack where they were walking by, he turned to his bear companion “Hey, Freddy?” He asked innocently, tugging gently on his paw.

  “Yes, Gregory?” Freddy knelt to look Gregory at eye level.

  “Roxanne really likes racing, right? Maybe if I challenged her to a race it’d make her happy and she won’t chase me anymore.”

  “Hmm…” Freddy paused, seeming surprised. “That is a wonderful idea, superstar! I am glad you are willing to try to make friends with the others.” He seemed so genuinely pleased, his ears even waggled a bit, but then he sobered up. “However… the racetrack is closed, I worry it is not safe for you to drive on.”

Gregory bit his lip, then pleaded at Freddy with his best puppy-dog face “Aww man… Can I please? I’ve always wanted to go go-kart racing!”

Gregory thought his performance was over-the-top, surely Freddy would notice the odd shift in his attitude towards the other animatronics.

Freddy paused for a moment, considering. “Okay, Gregory,” he relented, and ruffled Gregory’s hair with a smile, “you may ride the go-karts. But,” he stepped back and held up a finger, “there is one condition. You must ride with a driver-assist bot.”

  “What?!” Gregory exclaimed. He has got to be kidding, right? “I’m not a baby! I don’t need a dumb assist bot!”

Freddy crossed his arms. “I never meant to imply that you were a baby, Gregory. You are a capable young boy. However, I remain firm in my decision: no driver-assist bot, no go-karts. You can check the sign if you do not believe me.” He gestured to something behind Gregory.

Sure enough, a few feet behind them stood one of those “you must be this tall to ride” things, and Gregory was just ever so slightly under the line that allowed him to ride without an assist. For the first time that night he cursed being so small for his age. But he was determined to do this, so he swallowed his pride. “…Fine. Where can I find one of those dumb bots?”

Freddy merely looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “I-I mean… where can we find one of those wonderful bots who help keep the raceway safe for all?” Gregory tried again, squirming under Freddy’s gaze.

  “That’s better,” Freddy chuckled. He was teasing him. “Let me see…” He stared off into the distance, searching through the information in his internal database. “Ah! Here we go… Hm,” He frowned.

  “What’s the problem now?”

  “It seems there have been some… issues, with Roxanne destroying the driver assist bots.”

Gregory had heard as much in the email, so this didn’t exactly surprise him. “Oh. Is there any left?” He silently hoped the answer was no, and if so then maybe Freddy would have to let him ride without one.

  “Fortunately, yes, there is a single one left in working condition, and it has been put into the storage here for safe keeping.”

Gregory sighed, the universe was not being kind to him tonight. “Okay then, let’s go track it down.”

Using the directions from Freddy, they easily found the storage crate where supposedly a driver-assist bot was being held. The moment Gregory lifted the lid, the bot jumped out at him. Gregory yelped and stumbled back, blocking his face instinctively. He lowered his hands just in time to see the bot slump forward against the sides of the crate and its head fall clean off, rolling along the checkered floor until it came to a stop at Gregory’s feet, staring up at him blankly.

The two of them just stood there staring at the decapitated robot head silently. Finally Gregory cleared his throat. “…I thought you said it was in working order.”

  “…That is what my databases told me,” Freddy replied, still staring. “Not to worry, though, my internal map says there is a STAFF head repair station in the West Arcade.”

Gregory picked up the head. It was surprisingly light, but then again those things were very clearly cheaply made. He figured he could crush it like a tin can if he wanted to. Unlike the Glamrocks or the daycare attendant who were much, much more complex and sturdy, and could probably crush him like a tin can if they wanted to.

  “To the West Arcade we go, then,” Gregory sighed. He was getting real tired of running all over the Pizzaplex.

Outside the elevator that would take them to the West Arcade, Freddy stopped him. “Here.” He handed Gregory a Dance Pass. “You’ll need this to access the arcade and dance hall. Unfortunately, I cannot come with you. After tonight’s malfunction during the show I am not allowed to perform. Whenever I step onto the dance floor I… I cannot help myself! It is a, ah, programming bug.”

Gregory snickered, he would’ve wanted to see Freddy bust a move on the dance floor.

  “Do say hello to the DJ for me! He is such a nice fellow,” Freddy remarked.

The grin slipped straight off Gregory’s face. “The DJ…?” He questioned hesitantly. “Don’t tell me I gotta deal with another animatronic.”

  “Oh, yes! You have not heard of DJ Music Man?” Freddy raised his brows in surprise. “Not to worry though! The DJ wouldn’t hurt a fly! In fact, he kind of looks like a giant marshmallow.”

That did little to dispel Gregory’s growing dread at the thought of meeting another animatronic. But surely, with all the animatronics in this building, there’d have to be another one that wouldn’t be trying to kill him. Right?

  “I have marked the location of the head repair station on your map. Be safe!” Freddy waved at him until the elevator door shut between them, sending Gregory off to the West Arcade and whatever he was going to meet there.

Chapter Text

  Nope. Heck no. Nuh-uh. Gregory stared at the slumbering creature in front of him. It didn’t matter how nice Freddy claimed the DJ was, when he failed to mention that said DJ was a big-ass animatronic spider. 

Freddy was right about one thing, it kinda did look like a giant marshmallow. If a marshmallow was over two stories tall and wore a top hat, headphones, had pitch-black bug eyes, a bulbous bright-pink nose, and piano key teeth lining an LCD screen for a mouth. And the eight massive spidery appendages topped with gloves, can’t forget those. It looked like a glam-ified and massively upscaled version of the wind-up toys that had chased him in the vents.

He thanked his lucky stars that at least the DJ seemed to be in some kind of sleep mode, laying down on the stage with its head resting on two of its hands and “breathing” softly.

He tiptoed across the dance floor as quietly as he could, as to not wake the DJ. His new sneakers squeaked against the glassy flooring, puncturing the silence. He held his breath, but the DJ didn’t so much as stir, and he made it to the other end without further incident.

According to the directions from Freddy, the STAFF bot repair machine was in the security office here. He found the door to the office and saw the machine in the middle of the room immediately. He circled the machine. There was a seam in the exterior labelled Head Deposit, but he couldn’t figure out how to get it open. No visible buttons or switches or anything. He gave the glass an experimental tap with his knuckle. Nothing.

  “Uh, Freddy?” Gregory whispered into his watch. “How do I turn the machine on?”

  “Hm? It should be on automatically. Give me one moment to see if I can locate the issue.” Freddy hummed absently as he searched his database. “Ah! It seems the West Arcade was not shut down properly prior to closing. You will need to reset the breakers to restore power. There are four of them. One in the dance hall, one in the janitorial closet, and two in the arcade.”

  “Will do, thanks.” Gregory ended the call and let out a sigh. Why couldn’t things be simple tonight? He wasn’t too miffed though, as this gave him an excuse to explore the rest of the West Arcade, which is where the note said Princess Quest II could be found. Kill two birds with one stone or whatever.

Before leaving the office he made sure to grab the security badge that was in there. This made… five? Six? He’d lost count, just that it was a lot and he could probably waltz into any room in the building at that point.

The first breaker switch was located just outside the office door, which made things easy for him. Faintly, he heard some music playing from somewhere, but didn’t think anything of it. Maybe the first breaker was enough to reactivate speakers in the arcade or something.

Until he turned back around to find the stage empty.

Turns out the only thing worse than a giant animatronic spider is a giant animatronic spider you can’t see.

But seriously, Gregory looked around in alarm, how did the thing just disappear? And so silently, too.

He got his answer when he noticed a couple giant spindly limbs disappear into one of the many massive holes in the neon hole-filled walls. The music also became fainter as the DJ slipped into the walls, which explained where it was coming from.

Well, that was not ideal, Gregory thought, but as long as it was in the walls it meant it wasn’t imminently chasing him. He still wanted to reset the breakers and get out of there as fast as possible, though.

He ran towards the bathrooms next, where the janitorial closet was. The music swelled as he flipped the next switch, and seemed to double in volume as soon as he left the closet. It was so loud it seemed like it was coming from right next to him. Which turned out to be the case, as a giant gloved hand burst through the bathroom door and began blindly groping around for Gregory. He gasped and flattened himself against one of the bathroom stalls. Each thunk of the DJ’s hand against the floor reverberated like an earthquake, as did the pounding beat of the music.

Gregory sent a silence thanks to whatever engineer inexplicably designed this bathroom to have two doors, as it gave him an escape route. He didn’t look back to see how close the DJ was when he burst out of the washrooms and over to the spiral staircase that led to the second floor of the arcade. He took the LED-accented steps two-at-a-time and didn’t spare a second glance to any of the arcade cabinets to see if any of them were a Princess Quest as he ran by.

He weaved through the STAFF bots and found the third breaker tucked behind an arcade cabinet. The DJ had disappeared into the walls again, and its music echoed throughout the whole arcade so it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where it might be.

He entered a door and ran down the long, dark maintenance hall which was cluttered with retired or out-of-order arcade cabinets. Finally reaching the end he grabbed the last lever and yanked it down. A voice over the intercom told him that the breakers had all successfully been flipped and that he needed to head back to the security office to complete the West Arcade reboot. But before he could turn around, the ground began to shake again, and the music swelled to double, triple, quadruple times the intensity. Gregory only had time to utter a faint cuss before the DJ poked its head out of the large cavity in the wall above him. The thing looked so, so much bigger up close. It could probably crush him under a single finger. Gregory didn’t wait around to see if that’s what it intended to do. He ran.

Every time he thought that he’d seen the worst the Pizzaplex had to offer, that he couldn’t possibly have the strength to run even faster, it somehow found a way to provide endlessly more terrifying situations to stick him in, and pump him full of adrenaline again. He ran back through the hall, until an ear-splitting crash right in front of him punctured the rhythmic beat of the music. He skidded to a stop, sneakers squealing on the tiles.

The DJ had thrown an arcade cabinet at him.

He ran faster. Clenching his teeth as he dodged the flying arcade machines to both avoid biting his tongue from the earth-shaking thumps caused by the flung cabinets and each heavy step of the DJ’s appendages on the ground, and to physically keep himself from screaming. Privately though he thought that if he had to die somewhere tonight, that this wouldn’t be a bad place to go. Valiantly running for his life with sick dubstep—probably more than a few decibels too loud to be safe for human ear drums—as his background music, and surrounded by arcade games so he wouldn’t get bored in the afterlife. Because you could bet your last Faz-Token that he wouldn’t just peacefully move on after this.

Gregory was undecided on his stance on the existence of ghosts, but if they did exist, he fully intended to spend his death as a poltergeist haunting the Pizzaplex and simply causing as much of a ruckus for the company as he could.

But if he had a choice, he’d much prefer not dying tonight, thank you very much.

Just as he had almost reached the end of the hall, something caught his eye: a plain black arcade cabinet with an illustration of a certain yellow princess on the side. Princess Quest II. He barely even slowed down as he passed. With any luck, he would try to come back later.

He made it to the end of the hallway and burst through the door that led back to the main part of the arcade, not looking back to see if the DJ would follow him through the catacomb of tunnels in the walls.

He ran back through the arcade, not even caring about the cacophony of security bot alarms he set off in his wake. He half ran half slid down the staircase, and around the final bend to make it back to the security office, slamming the door behind him with a BANG. He leaned with his back against the door as he gasped for breath, before sliding to the floor. He didn’t realise just how loud the music was until it had faded away, leaving an incessant ringing in his ears. The STAFF bot head stared at him curled on the floor from where he had left it earlier.

He picked himself up off the floor, picked up the head, and unceremoniously dumped it into the repair deposit. He couldn't believe he did all that just to fix a stupid STAFF bot.

Upon leaving the office, he was met with an unexpected sight: the DJ. Not chasing or attacking him, but simply vibing out on its stage. Against his better judgement, he stepped onto the dance floor and walked over, planting his feet directly in front of it. The DJ showed no signs of noticing him, just continued dancing with one hand on its headphones and another waving in the air to the beat, like DJs do on TV.

Gregory raised a hand and waved. Still no response.

He cleared his throat. “Um, hello DJ Music Man. Are you… not murderous anymore?” Still nothing. “Well, I’m gonna go play a game back in the hallway…” He gestured to the door with his thumb while stepping backwards, “so I’d appreciate it if you, uh, didn’t kill me?” He wasn’t expecting a response at that point and turned to leave, until he saw the DJ lower its hand and give a thumbs up, before returning to its vibing.

Huh.

Well, Gregory wasn’t about to look a gift horse—or, spider—in the mouth.

Back in the hallway, he spotted Princess Quest II again easily amongst the other cabinets. Luckily it hadn’t been knocked over or crushed in his skirmish with the DJ a few minutes ago. He laid the repaired ( assumedly repaired, he had no idea how the machine worked) STAFF bot head down on the floor so he’d have both hands free to operate the controls. The same melodic background music as the previous instalment faintly emanated from the machine. It somehow sounded both beautiful and melancholic and yet ever so slightly off all at the same time. If he had to compare it to something, it sounded a bit like how loneliness felt. A strange mix of haunting and nostalgia.

The high score list was dominated by the same initials as the last one—LSC. He cracked his knuckles and hit start.

The game started in a cave with glowy blue mushrooms. An old man who was standing there as well handed the princess—the player’s character—a sword, the “Sword of Light.”

The gameplay was largely the same as before: solve puzzles by lighting lanterns to find a key, but now he could fight off enemies with his sword. It progressed about as expected, nothing particularly strange about it so far. There were no signs of the creepy monster from the ending of the last game, just more of the standard rabbit monsters. After maybe five or so minutes of playing he found a “strange key” and walked back to the locked door he’d seen previously. He pressed enter and braced himself for whatever would be behind this highly conspicuous door. But when the room loaded in, he could not have anticipated what it would be.

It wasn’t a horrifying monster like last time, it wasn’t a dragon’s hoard of treasure that you’d might expect from a fantasy themed game like this, or even a simple “Game Over” screen. It was something much, much more commonplace and familiar to Gregory, which somehow made it much more unsettling than the blob monster had been.

It was a security office.

Not just any security office, though. He recognized it as the office from the old indie horror game inspired by the Freddy’s pizzerias of the 80’s. Even in pixel form he could tell that every detail lined up to the one from the game, right down to the configuration the monitors were in and the soda cup on the desk. It was a… weird choice to have such a corporate shoe-in in a fantasy-themed game, but he guessed it explained why the arcades were there in the Pizzaplex if all the other games were related to Fazbear Entertainment in some way. But it was weird that they’d wanna dredge up the old rumours surrounding Freddy’s. I mean, animatronics coming to life at night and a murderer in a bunny costume? He scoffed. Psh, that was… He knit his brows together as the uncomfortable irony dawned on him. That was exactly what was happening to him right now.

  But those were all just crazy stories made up by some indie developer! This is just an… oddly specific coincidence? He reasoned with himself.

Well, at least there were no child corpses in these animatronics… as far as he knew.

Maybe Vanny/Vanessa or whoever they are was just some deranged superfan of the games trying to recreate that fictitious missing kids incident. All the more reason to avoid her.

While he was processing this, the game had shut off and was back to the high scores list (he had apparently done even worse on this one and had gotten 7th place. The scoring seemed extremely arbitrary, as the game didn’t even have a points system as far as he could tell).

But he now more than ever wanted to find the last Princess Quest.

Unfortunately, the sticky note only had the locations of the first two games. If the sticky note writer—who seemed to be unhealthily obsessed with the games—never found the last cabinet? That didn’t bode well for Gregory.

Eh, he’d keep an eye out for it, but if he didn’t find it before 6:00 a.m. he’d have to leave it. As intriguing as the mystery surrounding the games were, it wasn’t worth endangering his life for any longer than he already was.

  Speaking of… he checked his watch. It was just after 5:00 a.m. Time to get back to the raceway.

As soon as Gregory left the West Arcade and spotted Freddy, he stomped over to him with a pout.

  “Superstar, you’re back!” He then noticed Gregory’s expression. “What seems to be the matter?"

  “Why didn’t you tell me the DJ was a giant spider creature?! ”

Freddy seemed confused by his outburst. “Oh, I am terribly sorry, Gregory, do you have a fear of spiders? I assure you, though, the DJ is a gentle giant—“

He was cut off by a sound of indignation from Gregory. “‘Gentle giant’ my a— arse, it tried to kill me!” He fumed, but censored his language for Freddy’s benefit.

  “He tried to kill you?” Freddy asked in disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like the DJ.”

  “You said the same things about the Glamrocks.”

  “I… suppose that is true,” Freddy conceded with a sigh. “Perhaps an unauthorised person resetting the breakers, such as yourself, activated his ‘Bouncer Mode.’”

  “Activated his what?” Gregory groaned and dragged a hand down over his face. Did Freddy seriously wait until now to share that information which would have been pertinent to have thirty minutes ago?

  “In any case, I am sorry you had such trouble in the Arcade. I will have a talk with the DJ tomorrow about his behaviour.” He saw that Gregory was still pouting, and took the repaired STAFF bot head from him. “I think it is time for a race. Would that make you feel better, superstar?”

Gregory nodded in affirmation.

  “Then let us go! I have sent a message through our internal servers to Roxy telling her to meet us there.”

Gregory froze. What did he just say? “You can do that?”

  “Oh, certainly! We Glamrocks are able to send messages directly between band mates. Even to technicians or the security guard!” Freddy continued as if he didn’t just drop a bombshell of a statement.

Freddy had had the ability to send a direct message to one of the other animatronics or Vanessa the entire night, and Gregory would have been none the wiser. He knew that Freddy had been trying to protect him, of course. But the knowledge that Freddy had the ability to send a message revealing his location at any given moment and didn’t kinda made it all the more real.

If just making it back to the raceway was a race in and of itself, Gregory would’ve won by a landslide. They had plently of time to get there, reaffix the Driver Assist Bot’s head, and drag the bot over to a go-kart of Gregory’s choice (a Freddy-themed one, of course). Freddy was just helping Gregory strap on his helmet when the wolf finally made her appearance.

  “Well, well, well. So the little punk wants a race, huh?” She strutted over, a glimmer of red flashing in her eyes.

Roxanne was merely a few steps away from Gregory, close enough that he could count each one of her barred fangs. Close enough that if she decided to attack he wouldn’t have any time to react.

He was really starting to regret this idea.

She smirked at him and flipped her silvery mane over her shoulder. “I don’t hold back, you know. I’d say ‘Good luck,’ but it ain’t gonna help you, kid.”

  “Now, now, Roxanne. This is a friendly competition—“ Freddy remarked lightly but was cut off by a sneer from Roxy.

  “Let me handle this, Fazbear. It doesn’t concern you.”

  “I….” Freddy blinked in surprise, looking hurt. He gave Gregory’s shoulder a light squeeze then leaned down to whisper in his ear. “‘Best of luck, superstar. Roxy is truly a superb racer. Try not to be too upset if you do not win.” He told him bluntly, though well-intentioned.

Gregory nodded and stepped into his kart where it was parked behind the starting line. He turned to the wolf who was driving her own kart over. “Bring it on, Roxy. I’m no pushover.”

  “On your mark…” Freddy shouted from the sidelines. “Get set…” Roxy could be heard revving up her go-cart. “ GO! ”

The two racers sped off. Roxy taking a sizable lead right from the get-go. Gregory wasn’t actually here to win the race, but he didn’t wanna make it too easy for her.

Gregory had control of the steering wheel and pedals in the go-kart. The only thing the Driver Assist Bot had was the ability to override the driver’s inputs to straighten out the kart if it neared the edge of the tracks or slow down if you were in danger of crashing into a kart ahead of you.

He was ever so slightly gaining on Roxy, but Freddy wasn’t kidding, she was a good racer. He wished this was like Mario Kart and he could just toss a blue shell, but alas, the only thing he had that he could possibly throw was his Fazerblaster and he needed that, plus Freddy wouldn’t be very happy with him.

He flew around a curve. In front of him was a hill in the track, making a section of track that passed over top before the road did a 270-degree loop and passed underneath that bit of track. He had to time this right. Roxy was far ahead of him now, already at that loop. Gregory strategically slowed down a tiny bit as he started driving up that hill. In a couple seconds Roxy would be on the section of track directly beneath him.

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

The Driver Assist Bots may be programmed to level out a kart that veers a bit too close to the edge of the track, but there’s little they can do when the steering wheel is deliberately jerked to the side, sending the go-kart careening off the edge of the raised track.

Roxy didn’t even have time to look up before she was crushed under the weight of a high-velocity go-kart and staff bot.

Gregory, having taken off his seatbelt, was flung out of the kart. His intention was to leap out before it went over the edge, but was unprepared for the way the momentum caused it to flip end-over-end, sending him flying out at a dangerous speed and he rolled across the pavement until he smacked directly into one of the faux cliffs lining the sides of the track.

He didn’t know if his plan worked, if she was decommissioned, and he couldn’t look. All he knew was the hot, searing pain shooting through his body.

Because he was sent into a roll upon landing, the impact of hitting pavement ten feet below him caused little more than a few scrapes and bruises. It was the smack into the side of the cliff that caused the problem. His abdomen had made contact first, slamming into a bit of jutting-out “rock.” He couldn’t imagine being stabbed would feel any worse than this agony did.

There was nothing he could do besides curl up into a ball and squeeze his eyes shut amidst the tears, using every bit of his willpower to not shriek loud enough to attract every bot in the dang building.

Freddy wasn’t long in rushing over to see what had happened.

  “Gregory! Gregory?! Are you alright?” He could faintly register the thumps of Freddy’s feet running toward him. A pair of exceedingly gentle paws picked him up. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Gregory whinned tearfully, clutching his torso. “M-my stom— hic— ach…!”

  “Oh, superstar... come here.” Freddy drew him close, mindful of his injury. The two of them just sat there, the injured boy cradled tight in the bear’s arms, hissing and crying and sniffling into the bear’s chest until the pain subsided.

If he had had the strength to open his eyes, he would have seen the pure, unabashed concern and warmth conveyed in the animatronic’s face. Freddy’s full, undivided attention and comfort was directed to the boy he had only met mere hours ago wrapped in his arms, despite Roxanne—his good friend and bandmate of many years—shattered and sparking between wreckage of two go-karts just a few yards behind them. Gregory was his priority.

It took a couple minutes, but the pain in Gregory’s abdomen did fade enough for him to stand on his own. There would be some nasty bruising, but he didn’t think there was any serious internal damage. But what did he know, he wasn’t a doctor, nor had he been to the doctors that many times.

The first thing Freddy did when he deemed Gregory well enough to answer was to ask what had happened. Gregory, ignoring the prickle from his conscience, had thrown the Driver Assist Bot under the bus—or, under the go-kart, ha. He tearfully claimed that the bot had bugged out, and forced them over the edge of the track, unfortunately landing right on Roxy who just so happened to be passing directly underneath

Speaking of Roxy, Gregory had little doubt that she wouldn’t still be functional after this. She was pinned between the mangled go-karts. He couldn’t see all of her, as the lower half of her body was obscured underneath the wreckage. Her once sleek, groomed head of “hair” was a bent, tangled rat's nest of hairlike metal strands drenched in engine oil. Her casing was cracked so badly in places it was practically crumbling off her endoskeleton “bones,” and her jaw was hanging at an awkward angle, only attached by a couple wires. Her eyes had popped out of their sockets, hanging onto her face by a thread.

Freddy knelt next to her and grabbed her hand—which was stripped down to the endo. He sat there, and whispered soft encouragements to her lifeless form, including “The technicians will fix you up better than ever!” “You are not a loser.” “You are still the wonderful, show-stopping Roxanne Wolf,” and “It was an accident, the boy did not mean to harm you.”

Gregory pointedly looked away at that, wrapping his arms around his midsection.

Freddy eventually stood back up, and turned to Gregory with determination, “I have alerted Officer Vanessa of a situation in the Raceway, which should keep her occupied for some time. We should vacate the attraction before she gets here, however.” He held out a paw for him to take, but Gregory waved it off.

  “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up, I… want to apologise to Roxy.” He didn't meet Freddy's gaze.

Freddy laid a paw on his head. “You do not need to apologise, superstar, it was not your fault. But,” he stepped back, “if you still wish to apologise, I will give you the space to do so. Just be quick, Officer Vanessa may be here at any moment.” He slowly began walking in the direction of the raceway’s exit.

Gregory stepped over to the broken wolf and just stared at the wreckage for a moment. She looked… distressed, (She’s just a jumble of wires and circuit boards.). Could they feel pain? (She tried to hurt you.) Oh gosh, Cassie would not forgive him if she found out he wrecked her favourite animatronic, (They get what they deserve.).

He crouched down next to her. “Sorry… you jerk .” Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his hands around her dangling eyes and yanked. They snapped out of her endo skull with a few sparks and a faint twitch of her face. He shoved the severed orbs into his pocket, then turned away without a further glance and ran to catch up to Freddy.

If there’s one thing he learned over his life, it’s hurt or be hurt, and he was tired of always being the one who hurt.

Chapter Text

  “I found them on a shelf of spare parts in the salon.” That was Gregory’s excuse when Freddy asked him where he got the new yet disturbingly familiar pair of golden-coloured eyes with frayed wires sticking out the back. Freddy looked like he wanted to say something, but he snapped his jaw shut and followed the boy back down to Parts and Service without complaint.

It was… too easy. Freddy knew as well as Gregory did that it was a crappy excuse, yet he never questioned it.

Why?

The procedure was pretty much the same as the others he’d done, disconnect and reconnect the colour-coded wires in a specific order then run testing on the newly-added part. Yeah, sure, Gregory had some prior experience with coding and whatnot, but he felt like operating on these state-of-the-art animatronics should be a little more difficult. Maybe their technicians were just really dumb, and they needed it to practically be a toddler’s colour-matching game in order to understand it. Not that he was complaining, though, he was glad for the simplicity.

Last time he did one of these procedures, the robotic assistant arm had automatically taken away the old voice box to who-knows-where. This time, when the claw-like robotic hand moved in to take Freddy’s old eyes away, Gregory batted the arm away and took the eyes himself. He wasn’t sure why he did it, he didn’t really have any use for the old bright blue eyes, but… these were the eyes that had looked out for him all night. The eyes Freddy had used to watch out for danger and look at him with that comforting gaze that made him feel like everything might turn out okay.

It was silly, it was sentimental; he knew that. But he pocketed the old eyes anyway.

If worse came to worst, maybe when he was back out on the streets he could sell off “Genuine Freddy Fazbear eyes” to the highest bidder on eBay for some much-needed cash to stay afloat.

  “So… how do they feel?” Gregory asked as soon as Freddy had powered back on and exited the maintenance cylinder, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was… disconcerting to see Roxanne’s piercing yellow eyes instead of Freddy's familiar blue, but he’d get used to it. At least he had to foresight to rip the faux eyelashes off before installing them.

Freddy peered down at him and blinked a few times. “I am having a hard time adjusting, everything looks quite different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Hmm… if I focus on something hard enough, it is like there is a purple haze around it. Plus, I can see certain objects behind walls!”

  “Wow, I didn’t know Roxy could see through walls—“ Gregory clamped a hand over his mouth. It had slipped out without thinking. Please don’t have Freddy noticed please don’t have Freddy noticed please don’t have—

   “These are Roxy’s eyes?!”

  Crap. There was no getting out of this one.

Gregory looked away guiltily. “I— um, well… Roxy was out of order a-and I figured she wouldn’t mind if we borrowed her eyes for a bit?” He kicked at a random bolt on the floor absently, not wanting to look Freddy in the face. “‘Cause they can see stuff we can’t, s-so it’ll help you watch out for danger! She’s gonna need repairs anyways so the technicians can just return her eyes then, right?”

Freddy turned to the side with a sigh. If he was human, he’d probably be pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation right then. Freddy was disappointed in him. Gregory couldn’t see his face, but he knew it was true. He braced himself for the moment Freddy would turn back around and yell at him. He berated himself inwardly. He’d gone and messed up another connection with an adult figure—not just any “adult figure” but Freddy freaking Fazbear . Why’d he always have to go and mess everything up—

But when Freddy looked back at him, there was no trace of the disappointment or anger or scorn he had been certain he would find. Only the unwavering gentleness that, despite encountering it all night, he was still surprised to see.

Why wasn’t he mad at him?

Yeah, there were probably some programming in place that prevented the animatronics from raising their voice or displaying their anger in any way to kids (or, y’know, being able to feel anger in the first place) but Freddy had shown time and time again that he wasn’t bound by the “rules” of his programming. Therefore, he should be entirely capable of showing anger. So why wasn’t he?

He’d broken his friends. Ignore the fact that Freddy believed Roxy to be an accident and technically didn’t know about Chica yet.

Other people had gotten mad at Gregory for less before.

Freddy sighed. Not a true sigh of disappointment, but more of a vaguely amused “you just caught with their hand in the cookie jar after you told them no” kind of sigh. “You know, Roxy takes a lot of pride in her appearance. She would not be very happy if she found out,” he remarked lightly.

  “Well… she shouldn’t power back on until she’s fixed, right? So she’ll never have to know.” Gregory twisted his brows in apprehension. “You’re not gonna tell her… right?”

Freddy chuckled. “No, I do not wish to subject you to Roxy’s wrath. It will be our little secret— well, ours and the technician who will have to replace the eyes, that is.”

The two of them stood there in silence awkwardly after that.

Freddy was the one who finally broke that silence. “We still have another half an hour until the doors open. Do you want to hunker down here or is there anything you wish to do before you leave?”

Gregory thought fast. There was still one animatronic left to go, but did he really wanna go through with it?

He thought about the ferocity in which Monty had pounded on the security doors to get in at him earlier, or the pure fury in his eyes when he was chasing him through the atrium.

Yeah, he did want to.

  “I wanna go to Monty Golf,” Gregory blurted.

Freddy raised a brow in confusion. “Oh? What for, superstar?”

  “I…” Gregory bit his lip. He hadn’t had the time to come up with an excuse. “I’ve never seen Monty Golf before, and I heard the theming in there was pretty cool.”

Which wasn’t a lie, but obviously not the real reason he was so desperate to go.

Freddy scrutinised him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Alright, if it would make you happy, Gregory,” the animatronic finally conceded. “However, I do not know where we could find another Party Pass. I do know that the ventilation system connects to the catwalks above Monty Golf, but the only entrance I know of that connects to that particular ventilation system is in Mazercise, which does not help us as Mazercise also requires a Party Pass.” Freddy then took on a more serious tone. “If you are determined to… see Monty Golf, your best bet would be to find another vent that connects to that system. I must warn you, though, the catwalks above Monty Golf can be quite dangerous. One time, somebody filled the Splash Bucket just as Monty was walking on the catwalk beneath it. It resulted in him falling all the way to the ground and both of his legs were broken. Monty may have been able to bounce back from such an accident, but a human such as yourself could not. Promise me that you’ll be careful?”

Gregory nodded in response while struggling to maintain a neutral face. Freddy had just unwittingly told him exactly how he could decommission Monty.

  “Then let’s go. I’ll check my map and see if I can find a vent opening while we walk.” Gregory climbed into Freddy’s stomach hatch once more.

  “Ooh!” Gregory tapped on the interior of the hatch to get the bear’s attention. “Stop for a sec, and let me out.” They were walking back through the atrium, and through the Freddy-view on his watch, he noticed something glinting under a bench. Freddy obliged and Gregory sprinted over to it. “Look!” He exclaimed, snatching it up from the grubby carpet. “It’s a limited-edition golden Fazer-Blast Freddy keychain!”

  “Gregory…” Freddy began quietly, but urgently.

But Gregory was too busy admiring his find. “Oh, man! There was only like, what, a hundred of these made?”

  “Gregory—!”

  “Aw, come on!” Gregory was confused at Freddy’s lack of enthusiasm, and turned around to face him. “I wasn’t gonna steal it! I was just—“ Gregory froze mid-sentence as he followed Freddy’s gaze, finally noticing what the bear was trying to warn him about.

A very angry, ruined, and beakless animatronic chicken was lumbering around on the other side of the atrium. She cocked her head sideways and locked eyes with Gregory.

  “Gregory, what did you do…?” Freddy breathed out in concern.

Gregory didn’t have time to think of a response, as Chica began clunking towards him. He dashed out of the way, dropping the coveted keychain in his haste. He ran up the escalator while ignoring Freddy’s concerned calling below, before realising that that was a stupid idea as all the doors at the mezzanine lead to attractions and are blocked by STAFF bots, then he realised this could work in his favour.

Stopping in front of the entrance to Mazercise, he waited for Chica to catch up, ready to flee. Chica, believing Gregory to be cornered, charged towards him with an outstretched arm like an enraged bull. Gregory, however, leapt to the side at the last moment so Chica barrelled into the STAFF bot instead. With both STAFF bot and chicken momentarily incapacitated, Gregory was able to duck into the elevator that led to Mazercise, sans Party Pass.

According to the cams system on his watch, the vent that led to Monty Golf was on the other side of the famed exercise maze.

He found a notepad in the Mazercise office explaining how the maze walls could be rearranged in case of a lost child or other emergency, but it would take him ages to find the right button combo that would open up a path to the vent, nor did he want to take the time to traverse the maze normally. But that was okay, as there was a secret third option for making it to the other side.

  “Parkour!” Gregory whisper-yelled as he scaled one of the maze walls, wincing at the pain from the go-kart injury when he stretched his midsection, then he jumped from one wall to the next. In no time at all he jumped back down to the floor, landing in front of the vent. He smugly thought that he must have completed the maze in record time and— what do you mean parkour doesn’t count as beating a maze? Of course it does!

He crawled out of the vent and looked around at his new surroundings. This must be Monty Golf, alright. To his left were some gator-shaped ride gondolas, must be from the Monty-themed dark ride he’d heard was here. The walls were painted to mimic a leafy, swampy environment. Green ambient lighting casted an emerald haze over the entire place. He could hear the rushing of water down below, and rhythmic clacking—some kind of mechanical mini-golf obstacle, maybe?

He looked down and— Oh, boy. Gregory wasn’t afraid of heights, but anybody would be disconcerted upon being suspended a good three or four stories above the ground with only some flimsy metal grates keeping you from plummeting to your death in a golf course. He could think of no worse fate

The catwalks themselves criss crossed over the entire area, and there were cannons of some kind stationed at every corner. Experimentally, he grabbed hold of the cannon closest to him and pivoted it to aim at the splash bucket on the wall at the far end of the room. He squeezed the trigger and it shot out a plastic ball, like the kind that you’d find in a ball pit. The ball arced perfectly and landed in the splash bucket, triggering a chime to sound and the glowing meter next to it to increase by a point. It seemed that you used these cannons to fill up the bucket, and it dumps a cascade of colourful balls onto the golfers below when it’s filled.

Easy-peasy, all he had to do was fill up the splash bucket most of the way then ask Freddy to send a message to Monty saying that “the kid was in Monty Golf.” He would then lure Monty to be right under the bucket and shoot the last ball to trigger it to dump, hopefully crushing him.

With a plan in place, he turned back to the cannon to begin filling the bucket. Before he could even shoot one ball, he heard a loud and familiar roar coming from behind him. He whipped around to see Monty riding in on one of the gondola carts, and he looked pissed .

  No, no, no! Gregory’s stomach dropped. Monty isn’t supposed to be here yet!

The gator leapt off the ride vehicle and shook the catwalks with the force of his landing. He then had the audacity to tip his star-shaped sunglasses at Gregory before beginning his prowl towards him.

Gregory, in the midst of his panic, remembered his Fazerblaster. He aimed it at the gator and fired. And fired. And fired again.

  Why isn’t it working?! He smacked the side of the gun. In his desperation, he’d drained the battery. But the beams of light didn’t seem to faze Monty. If anything it just made him more mad, and certainly didn’t slow him down.

  The sunglasses. The full force of Gregory’s stupidity smacked him in the face. The laser doesn’t affect him because of his stupid sunglasses.

  What now? Gregory desperately scanned the catwalks for another exit. To get to the vent he’d come in through, he’d have to run back towards Monty, so that was a no-go. The only other solution he could think of was to drop down onto one of the tall plastic trees and climb to the ground from there, but he didn’t trust his abilities to be able to make it down before Monty, especially not while he was still nursing an injury.

He was cornered. Something which Monty seemed to realise as well, as he was taking his sweet time creeping towards him, and judging by the smirk on his face, was savouring every moment of Gregory’s clear panic.

  “Ah, Fazbear not here to save you, ya little punk?” He sneered, baring his razor-sharp fangs.

To get out of here alive, he’d have to decommission Monty, he didn’t see a scenario where could outmaneuver him while fully-functional. Which… was what Gregory was planning to do anyways, but now had to do it while running for his life.

All these thoughts ran through his head in mere seconds, but he wasn’t going to stand around there any longer to wait for Monty to get him. He turned and ran.

His abdomen, while not as agonisingly painful as it had been, still throbbed with a dull ache every time his foot hit the ground. Monty’s footsteps behind him rattling the catwalks didn’t help either. Gregory skidded to a stop in front of another cannon and unloaded it in the direction of the bucket, most of the shots making it in. The moment the telltale click from the trigger that signified the cannon was empty sounded he was off to find the next.

He risked “wasting” a few balls to shoot them towards Monty. The look on Monty’s face when he was pelted by the plastic kiddy balls was almost worth the precious time it wasted. Almost.

They bounced off his casing with comical ptonk! that momentarily slowed him down, if in sheer bafflement rather than actual hindrance. Only for a second though, as he snarled and continued his hunt with renewed venom.

  Almost there! The gauge showed the bucket was a little over three quarters full. A single cannon’s worth of balls, if he shot them perfectly. He was confident in his ability to be able to fill the bucket, the issue being that Monty had to be underneath the moment he did, as the bucket was supposed to dump the moment it was full. This left him with only a couple yards of catwalk for Monty to be positioned on for him to be crushed when it came down.

The catwalks were in a grid-like pattern, five rows vertically and five rows horizontally. Kinda like a waffle, if Gregory had to describe it. Right now he was running through row 3, column 2. The splash bucket was positioned over row 1, column 3. Therefore, he would run all the way forwards and then right, passing under the bucket to reach the cannon in the top-right corner of the grid. If he got all the shots perfectly, it should situate Monty directly underneath the bucket when it went off. If he missed, he’d have to circle back to another cannon, but that wouldn’t matter because Monty would have no reason to run under the bucket if not to reach Gregory.

Gregory gripped the handle of the cannon. He had only one shot at this.

But who was he kidding? He was GGY, and GGY didn’t lose a game.

Pshoo— DING! Pshoo— DING! Pshoo— DING!

Each one of the balls shot in quick succession hit its mark.

Monty was nearly in place, too close for Gregory’s comfort.

The final ball landing in the bucket caused a victorious chime to sound. Monty looked up, and Gregory could second see the realisation hit him. But it was too late for the gator. The bucket dumped down with a sound of metallic creaking and the thunks hundreds of plastic balls scattering everywhere. Monty was pushing against the bucket with all his strength trying his hardest to hold it up, and Gregory worried that he’d underestimated Monty’s strength—but turns out he severely underestimated the splash bucket's strength instead. With a deafening screech and a SNAP, the force of the bucket was enough to cause the entire section of catwalk underneath Monty and the bucket to give away. Gregory, being only a few yards away, stumbled and began to slip backwards as the catwalk was dipped down towards the hole. Through his panic and desperate scramble for purchase, he could hear Monty’s roars and series of bangs from metal hitting metal, ending in a final thump as he hit the ground below.

Gregory gripped his hands in the grate of the catwalks tightly, breathing heavy. His lungs burned and his arms felt like noodles, but he had managed to stop himself from slipping over the edge. Carefully he began crawling backwards towards the newly-made hole–despite the protests from his exhausted muscles–and used the broken section of the catwalk that was pointing downwards as a ladder to lower himself onto one of the many fake mangrove trees. From there he could climb down onto the roof of a decorative bungalow and finally drop to the ground of the golf course.

He found Monty’s body in a pile of scattered plastic balls—or, should he say the top half of Monty’s body. Something—whether it was the force of the bucket or the impact from one of the steel support beams on the way down—had snapped Monty’s lower torso and legs clean off, which had landed a few yards away from the rest of the wreckage.

Kneeling down, he grabbed one of Monty’s claws from where it was dangling off his arm and pulled it out of the wrist socket. He did the same to the other one and stood up, hardly even sparing a second glance towards the broken alligator before beginning to walk towards the exit. He made a point to step on his stupid sunglasses as he did, feeling some smug satisfaction in the crunch of shattering plastic underfoot.

Monty had always been his least favourite. Too mean. Reminded him of too many others he’d met over his life.

On his way out, he vaguely wondered how many thousands in property damage he’d caused over the night. He didn’t exactly feel bad about it, Fazbear Entertainment deserved to suffer some losses after the grief they’d put him through. Like come on, what kind of a company constructs tunnels of trash underneath their establishment, or locks a fire escape behind a paywall? And don’t even get him started on the killer animatronics that were free to roam the building after hours.

He sent a message to Freddy asking to meet down in Parts and Service one last time.

  “Do I even want to ask?” Came Freddy’s resigned reply through the watch.

  “Nope!” Was Gregory’s cheerfully cryptic response.

The procedure went just as smoothly as the rest. He only had to worry about installing one set of Monty’s claws, as the auto assist arm handled the other for him. Made him wonder why they needed a physical technician risking their skin in the cylinder anyway, if the arm was clearly capable of performing procedures on its own. He’d just have to file it under his mental list of “Dumb crap this company does.”

  “Gregory, be honest… where did you get these parts?” Freddy looked down at him and asked the moment he was able to leave the cylinder.

Gregory didn’t meet his gaze. “Seems like you already know the answer to that question,” he muttered sulkily.

  “Why did you do it, superstar?” He could hear the sadness in Freddy’s voice. “I told you that I did not wish for my friends to get hurt.”

  “So you care about your friends more than me?” The accusation came out unintentionally. He knew he was being unreasonable, obviously Freddy would care more about his band mates which he’d known for years over the whiny lost child he’d met only a few hours ago.

  “That is not what I said, Gregory,” Freddy sighed. “I only wished that you did not unnecessarily cause them harm.”

  “Roxy was an accident! And Monty was chasing me, it was self defence!”

  “And Chica?” Freddy looked at him pointedly. “I know trash compactor damage when I see it. Are you going to tell me that Chica accidentally found herself inside the compactor, and that somebody accidentally hit the button to start it?”

Gregory’s silence spoke volumes.

  “Why, Gregory? Why did you do it?” Freddy’s mournful voice had dropped to a near whisper.

Before Gregory could think of an answer, their argument was cut by the lights abruptly shutting off.

They started and looked at each other. “6:00 a.m!” The two exclaimed at the same time. It was the turn of the hour, the doors were finally about to open. But that also meant the daycare attendant was free to roam the building one last time.

  “Quickly, Gregory! Hop inside my chest cavity!” Gregory obliged without complaint. He half expected Freddy to be so upset with him that he’d leave Gregory to make it to the exit on his own.

Freddy power walked back through the basement tunnels to the stage lift. Moon could be heard scuttling somewhere overhead, chuckling and calling out for Gregory in that creepy way of his.

Gregory sat in the comforting confines of the chest compartment and finally let himself unwind, if only a smidge. A small part of him hadn’t actually expected he’d make it out alive ever since he first came face-to-face with the Pizzaplex’s trove of horrors.

He was suddenly aware of just how much of a mess he must be. His abdomen still ached, as did the other dozen or so scrapes and bruises he’d accumulated over the last few hours. When he looked down, he realised his favourite shirt—a navy-blue polo—was peppered with holes and rips. A mixture of dirt, machine oil, sweat, and who knows what other grimy substances were flecked all over him. He hoped Freddy didn’t have a scent processor, as he noticed uncomfortably the musty odour he was giving off inside of the enclosed space.

Apart from the daycare attendant scuttling about, their dash to the exit went unhindered. That is, until the lift reached the stage, and Gregory heard the intercom crackle to life. Officer Vanessa’s voice boomed throughout the atrium. “Hey, kid,” she sounded almost… scared? “What are you still doing here?! The doors are open—“ She cut off with a pained grunt before continuing. “J-just go, run, leave this place and never come back! I-I can’t stop—!“ She got cut off again, this time with a gasp and a cry of pain, then the speakers abruptly cut to static, before shutting off completely.

Freddy had paused in his tracks to listen to Vanessa’s message.

  “What was that about?” Gregory muttered in confusion, mostly to himself. It'd almost sounded like she was fighting someone. “I don’t get it. Why would she suddenly care about my well-being?”

Freddy shook his head and continued his walk with renewed vigour. “I do not know, but it was… concerning. I will check on Officer Vanessa later, and see what I can learn about this whole situation.”

Gregory snorted. “Good luck with that. This is the first bit of care she’s shown all night. For all we know, that was some elaborate last-ditch effort to gain our trust or something.”

  “Perhaps,” Freddy conceded. “But I do not believe so. If she so desperately wanted to lure us into a trap, why would she plead for you to leave?”

Freddy brought up a good point, but Gregory was too exhausted to think too much into it. “I dunno," he huffed. "I don’t really care. I just wanna get out of here.”

  “We’re almost there, superstar. You’ve been so brave.”

Gregory could feel his cheeks redden. He still wasn’t used to the praise the animatronic was so keen on giving him. But Freddy was right, they were almost there. They had reached the atrium elevator. From there they just had to descend the lobby’s escalators, pass back through the turnstiles, and they would be at the doors.

A minute later, he could see the doors in front of them. The metal shutters had indeed rolled back away, and through the glass doors he could see the first green streaks of dawn piercing the early morning darkness.

They’d made it. They’d actually made it. Gregory let out a chuckle of relief and near disbelief.

Freddy came to a stop in front of the doors and let Gregory out of his stomach. “C’mon, Freddy! They’re open, let’s go!” Gregory exclaimed, tugging on the animatronic’s paw. He could feel the gentle late-summer breeze calling to him, a literal breath of fresh air after being trapped inside the building all night.

  “Gregory…” Freddy knelt down and looked the boy in the face, his voice excruciatingly soft; his face downcast. He hesitated before speaking, as though if he did not utter his next words then they wouldn’t have to be true. “I cannot leave.”

Chapter Text

  “I cannot leave.”

Freddy’s admission sent shockwaves through Gregory. “What?” He murmured disbelievingly the words just didn’t make any sense to him. Somehow, he never once considered that Freddy wouldn’t want to leave with him. It seemed obvious, now, but he didn’t want to let himself believe it. “Sure you can. Come on! W-We can hide you somewhere!”

  “I cannot." Freddy shook his head. "Without a charging station my systems would shut down within an hour. It is a safety precaution. It is… my design,” he whispered regretfully. “I am sorry, superstar, but this is where I must stay. Do not return, it will never be safe. I will miss you.” He reached forwards and patted Gregory’s head affectionately.

Gregory’s throat tightened. He could feel a tear slip out of his eye. He furiously swiped at it. He couldn’t— he wouldn’t cry, crying was weak! But more tears slipped down his face despite his efforts.

Freddy wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.

  “I don’t—I don’t wanna be alone again!” Gregory finally let himself sob, muffled by Freddy’s casing pressed up against him.

  “I know, I know,” Freddy whispered, rubbing gentle circles on his back. “I wish things did not have to be this way.”

  “I’d rather—“ he cut off with a sniff, “I’d rather stay h-here, with you! Even if I have to run for my life every-y night!” He hiccuped.

Freddy released him, but still kept his paws on his shoulders. “I would not allow it,” he said firmly. “Your safety is the most important thing to me, no matter how much I will miss you.”

Gregory wanted to argue. He wanted to kick, or scream; do anything that would change Freddy’s mind. But deep down he knew Freddy wasn’t going to budge, no matter how much of a fuss he put up. And he also knew that the longer he stayed, the harder it would be to leave. So he forced himself to shrug away from Freddy’s grasp. “Goodbye, Freddy! I’ll—“ He couldn’t help it, he lunged forwards and gave the bear one final hug. “I’ll miss you! You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met—even if you’re a robot!”

  “Goodbye, Gregory. It was an honour to protect you. Programming dictates I cannot have a favourite guest, but just between you and me? You’ll always be my number one superstar.”

Gregory released him before he lost his resolve. But just as he turned to leave, he suddenly froze, eyes widening.

  “…Gregory?” Freddy asked with a hint of concern.

  “The-the sticky notes,” Gregory breathed and ran his hand through his hair. Brain running a mile a minute; the puzzle pieces suddenly clicking together.

  “Gregory, what are you—” Freddy now seemed confused, and genuinely worried for his well-being, but Gregory cut him off.

  “Here, look!” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out the now-crumpled wad of sticky notes. He knelt down and unfolded them, spreading them out on the ground like he did the first time he read them, and gestured for Freddy to take a look too. “I couldn’t figure out what these two notes meant,” he pointed to the green one with the drawing of a young woman and the pink one with the indecipherable scribbling, “or how they connected to those weird arcade games. But it just came to me!” He tapped the green one. “That’s Officer Vanessa.”

He hadn’t made the connection before, because Officer Vanessa didn’t have rainbow streaks in her hair—at least she didn’t now —and she had substantial eye bags which were not depicted, and he’d never seen the Officer smile. He guessed that maybe it was a drawing of her a couple years younger. But whatever the case, the resemblance was undeniable.

  “It… does look like her,” Freddy acknowledged after studying it for a moment. “If I remember correctly, she had rainbow hair when she first began working here three years ago. I remember complimenting her on it.”

That pretty much confirmed it, but he moved on to his other piece of evidence anyway. “And look at this,” he pointed to the pink one. “I can’t read what this one says, but I can make out the word ‘Ness’. That could be a nickname for ‘Vanessa’! I also see the words ‘wrong’ and ‘help’.”

Freddy hummed thoughtfully. “So what is your point?”

  “I think—“ Gregory took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, and looked Freddy directly in the face. “I know it sounds crazy, but—I think Officer Vanessa is being controlled by something. Like, mind controlled.”

  “That is a… very concerning—and not to mention unimaginable —conclusion to draw,” Freddy hesitated.

  “Is it any crazier than anything else we’ve seen tonight?” Gregory shot back. “Think about it! It would explain why ‘Vanessa’ and ‘Vanny’ act so differently despite the fact we’re convinced she’s the same person. And why it sounded like she was fighting someone when she talked over the speakers. Not to mention these sticky notes clearly tie her to those weird arcade games somehow. And what are the games about? Trying to save a blonde-haired princess from rabbit-like monsters. Not just that, the second game ended in a security office— a Freddy’s security office.”

He realised he was pacing, he was rambling, he was sure he sounded crazy, but he knew he was onto something big here. If he left now, nothing would change. Another poor schmuck would just get stuck here instead and may not get as lucky as Gregory. If he was right about this, he could save lives. He could break this twisted cycle. But more than that, he could save the Pizzaplex. And if he saved the Pizzaplex… He could come back to see Freddy again.

  “I believe you,” Freddy said quietly after a heavy moment of silence. “You are right, that would be too many coincidences. What are you going to do with this information?”

Gregory stood up and took a deep, determined breath. He couldn’t leave now.

  “I’m going to save the princess.”

His first clue that something was wrong should have been how silent and empty the atrium was, it was suddenly devoid of all and any patrolling STAFF bots. But being so engrossed in his recent revelations, he didn’t register it. There wasn’t even a bot standing outside the entrance to Fazer Blast asking for a Party Pass. Their original plan was to have Freddy shove the bot out of the way—and the animatronic, ever the stickler for rules, was glad he did not have to do that.

Once inside the attraction, they laid out their plan. Freddy would stay inside the waiting area as this was to be a stealth operation, and the 7-foot tall bright yellow-orange animatronic bear would stick out like a sore thumb against the dark environment of Fazer Blast. Should anything happen, Freddy would be ready to bust into the area at a moment’s notice. But that was only if things went terribly, horribly wrong.

Gregory would enter the arena, slip up the maintenance stairs with his fancy level 7 security pass to the catwalks, and hope that the security pass would be high enough to enter her hideout. Then he’d play the arcade he remembered seeing in there and… everything would be fixed?

It was a shot in the dark, but he was confident that the arcade games held the answer to all the weird happenings in the Pizzaplex.

His second clue that something was wrong should have been the fact that the laser tag arena was silent too. The ambient music had stopped and many of the neon lighting effects were turned off too, basking the area in eerie shadows. If the attraction had been running all night, why would it be turned off now?

He crept through the laser tag maze, the retro carpet muffling his footsteps. He used his Fazwatch to look for the maintenance staircase. It was deathly silent in the arena, the first place in the whole building to be devoid of some sort of music or the incessant metallic clacking of a robotic entity. The only sounds were his breathing, his erratic heartbeat, and a faint giggling from behind him.

Wait—

Gregory whipped around. “Who’s there?” He gasped. His voice sounded painfully loud in the silence. The giggling had stopped, if it was ever even there in the first place. Maybe sleep deprivation was finally catching up to him and he was going crazy. Come to think of it, his head was feeling funny, too.

He took out his Fazerblaster and held it up at the ready, before remembering it was out of battery. But a potential attacker wouldn’t know that, maybe the threat of it would be enough to keep them at bay. Maybe.

Straining his ears, he could still hear nothing besides his own heavy breathing, so he cautiously took another step forwards.

  “Gotcha!” A raspy, feminine voice exclaimed. Suddenly a cloth-covered arm had wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides, and another arm was holding a knife to his throat.

He didn’t need to turn around to know that he was caught in the arms of Vanny.

  I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’mgonnadie— The reality of his situation struck him. He was being held hostage by a fursuited murderer, his (empty) Fazerblaster had clattered uselessly to the floor when he got caught, so he couldn’t even use it as a blunt weapon, and his arms trapped at his sides meant he couldn’t use his watch to call for Freddy.

He was totally screwed.

  “Let go of me you freak!” He cried, desperately attempting to kick his legs back into his attacker’s.

The knife at his throat tightened, he could feel the cool edge of the blade resting against his jugular. He stopped flailing.

Vanny made a “tsk,” sound. “Now now, none of that, little bunny!” He could hear the playfulness in her voice. This was a sick game for her. “It would be a shame if I had to use this widdle knife wight here!” She taunted in a babying voice, ever so slightly pressing the edge of the blade closer.

Gregory's breath hitched, tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. “If you’re gonna kill me, can you just get it over with already?” He said through gritted teeth, trying to feign bravery, despite the telltale way his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence. He wouldn’t give the crazy rabbit lady the satisfaction of him crying or begging for his life. He’d be brave. Freddy would want him to be brave.

  “Oh, but where would be the fun in that?” She giggled, moving the blade back to hover in front of his throat instead of digging into it. Gregory took a gasping breath, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips despite his attempts to be brave. He could feel a cold stinging line on his neck, and he couldn’t tell if it was a phantom sensation of the knife still being there or if it had actually broken the skin.

  “You know…” Vanny mused suddenly. “Petite frame, brown hair…“ She removed the hand holding the knife from his throat and used it to ruffle his hair.

  “Hey! Get your hands off me, creep!” Gregory gasped, the sensation of her furred digits on his scalp sending repulsed shivers down his spine.

She returned her hand to its proper location under his chin. “…even wearing a striped shirt. You fit my master’s description to-a-T!”

  “What are you talking about?” This rabbit lady was completely bonkers.

  “I have a… proposition for you. How would you like to join us, Ev —Gregory?”

Gregory scoffed. What was she about to call him? “...Is this some kind of trafficking thing?”

  “Oh, no, no,” She assured, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “Nothing like that. This is a happy offer. You join me, you’ll have a family.”

  “A family?” Gregory repeated, blinking in confusion.

  “Oh, yes,” Vanny giggled. “A family where you’ll never have to worry about punishment, or scorn. You’ll have your very own room. All the Pizzaplex merchandise your heart desires! I know how fond you are of Freddy, superstar.”

  “Hey—! How do you know about—“ She cut him off, ignoring his question.

  “You’ll never have to worry about where your next meal will come from. You’ll never have to worry about social workers coming in and disrupting your happiness. I know how hard your life has been, Gregory.” He could almost believe she was actually sympathetic towards him. “Parents dead, Moved from house to house, always being the outsider, never finding someone who cared about you. It’s heartbreaking, really! A good kid like you deserves better.”

  Good kid? Her words echoed inside of his head. Freddy had said the same thing, but… did he truly know what Gregory had gone through? Vanny sounded like she understood him, truly understood.

   Don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to get inside your head, he told himself.

   “You want somebody to love you Gregory. A robot like your precious Freddy is nothing more than a jumble of wires and coding, he could never truly love someone. With us, you’d have that. But I also know what you really   want,” she leaned in close to his ear, “ revenge.”

   “What?” Gregory breathed.

  “Of course you do. Deep down, you know you do. You want people to hurt the way they hurt you. Isn’t that why you massacred the other Glamrocks? You join us, and the first thing we’ll do is get revenge on all the ones who have ever wronged you. I’ll even let you pick the weapon. A knife? An axe? Perhaps a rusty screwdriver?” She giggled. “Oh, it’ll be so much fun! Who should we start with? Your social worker? That one school counsellor who called you ‘troubled’? Or perhaps,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “the horrible foster mother you ran away from? What was her name again… Mrs. O’Leary?”

  “H-How do you know that? How do you know anything about me?” Gregory gasped.

  “Your little venting session with Freddy, of course!” She seemed supremely pleased at her own pun. “A rabbit has keen ears, you know.”

  “R-right.” Gregory grappled with the knowledge that Vanny had been listening to every word of his trauma dump. “If you care so much about my well-being, then why were you chasing me with a knife?”

  “Oh, I was trying to kill you,” she said matter-of-factly. “But my master had other ideas, and who am I to question his whims?” She gave his arms—still pinned to his sides—a playful squeeze. “Soooo what d’ya say?”

  “Family… revenge…” Gregory murmured, feeling like he was in a daze. It was like Vanny had given him a gift, beautifully wrapped with a neat little bow, but he didn’t know what could be inside. It could be a wonderful gift, reflective of the beauty and care of the wrapping itself. Or it could be a horrid gift, that once opened could never be returned or reversed. Like a box full of cockroaches.

Somebody gifted him a box full of cockroaches once.

It wasn’t funny. They scuttled out everywhere.

…

He could get revenge on that person, too.

  “What… would I have to do…?” He whispered. A bubble of some peculiar emotion in his stomach. He couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread.

  “All you’d have to do,” Vanny cooed, “is use your watch and tell that silly old Fazbear that everything is okay, that you don’t need his help— yes, I know he is anxiously waiting in the lobby for you.” She responded to Gregory’s gasp, and let him free his watch arm from her grasp. “That’s all you have to do. Then I’d bring you to meet my master. We'd be one. Big. Happy. Family. ” She accentuated each word.

  “Family…” Gregory repeated quietly.

With a shaking arm, he raised his watch to his lips. He could barely hear Vanny’s triumphant giggle over the roar of his heartbeat in his ears.

He pressed the call button. “…Freddy?”

  “Yes, Gregory? Is everything alright?” Freddy’s reply immediately came. The concern in his voice jolted something in Gregory.

  “I-I’m here in the arena and…” he swallowed nervously, “and everything is noT OKAY AND I NEED YOU RIGHT NOW!” At the same time, he stamped on Vanny’s foot and wriggled free from her grasp.

But Vanny seemed to be anticipating some sort of trick. She stuck out her foot—the not-stamped on one—and tripped Gregory up before he could run away. His face smacked into the carpet, sending a hot burst of pain through his nose. Something warm and wet started trickling down his chin. He laid there dazed for a moment, and before he could gather the strength to get back up he felt something press into his back, pinning him down. Vanny was leaning over him, using her knee to keep him in place. “Well that wasn’t very nice!” She pouted.

Gregory, in vain, tried to wriggle away.

  “Ah, ah, ah!” Vanny said. She flashed something in front of his vision. A tablet? “You see this? Any sudden movements, and what happens next will be your fault!”

  “It’s too late, Vanny! ” Gregory spat her name like it was poison. “Freddy’s on his way, and he’s been upgraded!” He gagged on the blood that had dripped into his mouth.

He felt Vanny shrug. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” she responded ominously.

Gregory didn’t have the strength to ask what she meant by that.

At that moment, they heard a deafening bang come from the entrance to the arena. The sliding door was ripped straight from the hinges, and dropped to the ground with a muffled bang. Right on cue, Freddy had made his entrance.

  “GREGORY?!” Freddy yelled as he sprinted into the arena. “ANSWER ME!”

  “I-I’m over here!” Gregory choked out weakly. He didn’t think it was his weak attempt at answering that alerted Freddy to their location, it must have been his new eyes.

Freddy froze as locked eyes with the pitiful boy sprawled on the ground, the lower half of his face coated crimson and fear plainly conveyed in his eyes. He shifted his gaze to zero in on the rabbit-costumed figure over him.

  “What,” Freddy’s voice had an uncharacteristic icy edge to it, “did you DO TO GREGORY?!”

Not once had Gregory thought that Freddy was scary. A little intimidating cause of his size, maybe, but he always seemed like a big teddy bear.

But now, staring down Gregory’s captor with unbridled fury in his gaze? He was outright terrifying.

He was a predator.

A grizzly bear like that he was based off of.

And he was going to protect his cub.

Freddy roared. It wasn’t like the roars of Monty who was just trying to be a show off, nor was it like the growls of Roxanne overcompensating for her own insecurities.

No, this was an ground-shaking roar of pure fury, a sound that promised pain for the one it was directed towards. Gregory couldn’t suppress a shudder, even though he wasn’t the target of his anger.

The bear raised his new, razor-sharp claws, and charged.

But Vanny hardly seemed fazed. Instead she raised the tablet she held in her hands, and tapped the big red button on the screen. “Oh, boys!” She called out. “Disassemble Freddy.”

Dozens of STAFF bots flooded out from behind the walls of the maze, from where they had been laying in wait unnoticed by both Gregory and Freddy.

Freddy had only closed half the distance between Gregory and himself when the bots overtook him. Even his rage and newly gained strength wasn’t enough to keep them at bay, there were just too many. They knocked him to the ground, and Freddy didn’t even have time to raise his fists again before they converged on him. Tearing through his casing like it was paper; shredding his interior. Nuts and bolts and various other metallic pieces flew. He groaned and twitched and sparked in evident pain.

Gregory cried out over the ear splitting sound of metal racking metal. But there was nothing he could do except watch as his protector was mercilessly shredded in front of him. And it was all his fault.

He realised that Vanny had removed her knee from his back at some point, and he stumbled to his feet. He needed… he needed to get away, somewhere, anywhere.

  “Run, run little rabbit!” Vanny taunted. She barely made an effort to chase Gregory as he stumbled from the scene of Freddy’s demise. She was letting him escape, toying with him like a cat does with its food.

Gregory stumbled blindly into the maze to find some corner to hide in. He didn’t make an effort to control his crying. At least the carpet was dark and hid the drips of blood he left in his wake.

He collapsed somewhere in the maze. He didn’t know where, he didn’t really care. He could hear Vanny calling out for him, but he knew that she already knew where he was from the noise of his sniffling. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care anymore. Freddy was destroyed, he’d watched it happen. He was too tired, too injured to escape Vanny and make it to the exit. Even if he could make it to the exit, who’s to say Vanny wouldn’t just follow him out?

He curled into a ball, resting his head on his knees, and sobbed.

He hoped Vanny would at least have the mercy to make it quick.

Then his watch crackled to life. “Gre-gory? C-come in, Gregory? I still h-have a sig-g-nal.”

Gregory abruptly stopped his snuffling, and uncurled his arms from their position to look at his watch in shock. But there was no way. He watched Freddy get destroyed. “…Freddy?” He whispered, not daring to get his hopes up.

  “Gregory! T-thank go-o-odness.” It was Freddy! Gregory let out another sob, this time of relief. “Listen to m-me Gregory, g-get to the hideout-t. Turn the b-bots against Vanny.”

Freddy sounded glitchy, but he was alive. “Y-Yeah, I will, Freddy!” He hiccuped, swiping at the tears on his face. “I won’t let you down!”

Gregory had thought that he had no adrenaline left to give, but he found that there was something stronger than adrenaline: hope.

Chapter Text

Hope.

That spark, that maybe things weren’t so bleak as they seemed, gave him the strength to rise back to his feet—albeit shakily—and keep going.

He could still fix this.

He kept to the shadows of the maze as he went, straining his ears for the sound of footsteps or horrible giggling behind him. With… everything that had happened, he’d forgotten that Vanny’s presence usually announces itself in the form of headaches and blurred vision. He was too distracted to make the connection between his head feeling weird and that vital bit of information the last time. Now, he’d pay more attention to it, it would hopefully alert him of her presence before his eyes or ears could.

Right now, his head and vision wasn’t feeling too weird—save for the fact he was dizzy as heck and his nose still throbbed from the bash it had taken against the floor.

But he could handle it. Freddy needed him.

The STAFF bots had finished doing whatever they were doing to Freddy and were back on the prowl, looking for him. It was like the beginning of the night all over again: no Freddy to hide him, no Fazerblaster to stun them, all he had were his own two legs and his wits.

He finally found the utility staircase in a corner of the arena and crawled up it as quickly and quietly as he possibly could. In a moment of brilliance, he took off his shoes, so he could run across the metal bridge soundlessly in his socked feet.

  Please, please, please let Vanny think I’d escaped out to the lobby, he prayed silently. If Vanny chased him up here, he’d be cornered, and even though he knew his way around computers, he didn’t think he could figure out how to take control of the STAFF bots faster than Vanny could run.

By some miracle, the door to Vanny’s hideout—which had been closed with no visible way of opening it when he last saw it—was open. He saw the desk, monitors on and keyboard at the ready, prime for him to take control over.

But he also saw the arcade cabinet, unassuming and standing in the shadowy corner, with the title Princess Quest III.

He slowed to a stop in the middle of the room, hesitating.

If he sicced the bots on Vanny, they’d kill her, and he’d save Freddy. But if they were right, that would also kill Vanessa who, despite his initial distrust of, he didn’t think was an evil person.

But if his theory about the arcades was right, he could save both Vanessa and Freddy.

He made his decision.

   Sorry, Freddy, he grimaced, but you’re gonna have to hang on a bit longer.

He turned towards the arcade machine.

He grabbed the controls and pressed start, barely having time to notice that the high scores roster was empty before the game came on.

It started where the last one left off, in an old Freddy’s security office. He exited into a pizzeria hallway full of cracks and those shadowy rabbit monsters. The hallway led to the iconic “Five Nights at Freddy’s” dining room. Tables set up for parties, the main stage in the front, and Foxy’s smaller stage off to the side, all depicted in pixel form to match the rest of the arcade games. On the main stage was a lock.

He walked his character over to the side, through another door, which led to a room filled with… conveyor belts? It was some sort of puzzle, he realised, as some of the conveyor belts led to dead ends or in endless circles. Hitting a lantern caused the belts to switch direction. It was an easy puzzle, though. He only hesitated when he saw a large yellow face with two purple eyes staring at him through a crack in the ground. It was Chica—her old version. Creepy.

When he got through that room he pried his attention from the game for a moment, to make sure Vanny wasn’t coming. His head felt fine… ish , and he couldn’t hear anything besides the sounds of his own breathing and the faint eerie music from the game itself.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He was fine. For now, at least.

The next room had more conveyor belts, and it was another one of those puzzles from the second Princess Quest game where you had to control your character and a shadowy doppelgänger at the same time to light the corresponding-coloured lanterns.

Completing that puzzle netted him… a weird, green, glitchy rabbit plushie, accompanied by the text “Something is not right.”

The plushie reminded him of something, not Vanny. It was more like… a recoloured Bonnie?

  Weird. He thought. But what about these games isn’t weird.

That room was a dead end, so he went back to the dining room to see if he could open the stage now.

Still no, but now he noticed an open door next to Foxy’s stage.

He could feel a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck. How long had he been playing this for? A few minutes? It felt like ages. Any moment Vanny could come up here looking for him and he’d be screwed. He had to pick up the pace.

This door led to a very dark room, with a… flaming version of Foxy prowling around inside a maze.

  Sure. Why not?

  Move. Turn. Stop. Swing. His hand expertly maneuvered the joystick, his other hand dancing over the buttons, urging his little character sprite to go faster, faster.

He lit the final lantern in the maze and entered the centre, where a glitchy purple chest sat. He was somehow both shocked and yet not at all surprised at what was inside: Vanny’s mask.

He was already pretty confident by that point that the games were inextricably tied to Vanny in some way, but it was other thing to actually see her red eyed, white-and-brown patchwork mask depicted inside the game, and to have it be in his “inventory” now, along with the plushie.

Again with those words: “Something is not right.”

They filled him with an unexplainable sense of dread.

He went back to the dining room. The damn stage still wouldn’t open! Ugh, what else did he need to do?! On impulse, he went back to the long hallway he first used to enter the dining room, and found a door he was pretty sure wasn’t there before.

It was a small room, the only thing inside being a glitchy glowing chest, this time being red . He opened it.

   “A strange key, I wonder what this opens?” The game exchanged his glitchy plushie and mask for a glitchy key. Thank gosh. This had to be what opened the stage. And he was glad he no longer had to see Vanny’s face staring back at him from the corner of his screen.

He went back to the dining room once more, and entered the stage.

Then everything started glitching out, but it wasn’t the game.

It was his vision.

A lump of cold cement felt like it had dropped in his stomach. No, no, no, no! Not now! He was so close!

  “Hey—! What are you doing?! Get away from that!” He heard Vanny screech from somewhere behind him. It was the first emotion besides manic glee she’d displayed all night.

He didn’t look back to see how close she was. How many seconds away. There was no point, nowhere for him to run except towards her.

He kept his eyes glued to the screen. Gripping the controls so hard his knuckles were turning white. 

Time seemed to slow down. Through his blurry vision, he saw the stage had led to another dark hallway filled with monsters. He blindly swung his sword at them, trying to walk through.

He could hear the pounding of footsteps running on metal.

The hallway finally came to an end, ending in an empty room with a large, glitchy, purple-and-green locked door.

He went to try to open the door—

  “GOTCHA!” A sickeningly familiar high-pitched voice yelled from right behind him. A furry hand grabbed him by the back of his collar and roughly yanked him away from the machine.

Gregory looked up into the tip of Vanny’s knife levelled directly at his face, merely inches away. Her grip on his collar like vice, he had no hope of wiggling free.

  “Nowhere to run, little rabbit? It’s been fun, but you’ve proved to be such a pain!” She leered down at him with the horrible, static grin of her mask. “We could have been happy, you know. None of this had to happen! But alas, you rejected our oh-so generous offer. So now I have to kill you!” She finished cheerfully.

In a fit of desperation, Gregory flung his arm backwards, smacking into the buttons of the arcade cabinet. He hoped it opened the door. Did something, anything.

At first, nothing did happen.

  Stupid! He berated himself mentally. This was real life. He was stupid if he thought playing an arcade game would somehow magically stop a crazed murderer from killing him.

He screwed his eyes shut.

  I’m sorry, Freddy. He wanted Freddy’s smile to be his last thought. He just hoped Freddy could forgive him for not taking control over the bots like he’d said.

He waited for the impact of the knife. Would it feel cold? Hot? Would it be over quick, and he wouldn’t feel anything at all?

But the impact never came.

Instead, an ear-splitting scream, one full of what he could only describe as pure agony emitted from the arcade behind him.

Something clattered to the floor at his feet.

He finally dared to peek through his eyelids.

Vanny was still standing over him, still as a statue. One hand still gripped his shirt, and the other was still raised to stab him, except the knife had fallen out of her hand and onto the ground.

He watched as the red glow of her eyes dimmed.

He heard a soft woman's voice gasp. Then Vanny abruptly dropped him and flinched away like he had burned her.

Gregory, not being held up by her anymore, fell into a heap in front of the arcade cabinet.

   “ No, no, nononono—“ Vanny whispered, frantically clawing at the fabric of her mask. She yanked it off so violently Gregory wondered if she’d pulled some of her hair out with it. It was golden blonde hair, in a ponytail.

Gregory wasn’t at all surprised to see Officer Vanessa’s (wide eyed) face being the one under the mask.

Vann— no, Vanessa stumbled backwards, hand over her mouth and muttering incoherently. She backed herself into a corner of the room and, like a puppet with its strings cut, sank, burying her face in her arms.

Then she started to sob.

Horrible, heartbroken, gut-wrenching sobbing.

Gregory just watched her awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do, but he shakily got up and kicked the knife deep under the desk, out of sight and out of reach.

Then he hesitantly approached the crying woman, holding a hand out in an attempt at placating her. It felt weird to attempt to comfort the grown woman who was trying to murder him just a couple minutes ago, he felt like it should be the other way around. But he wasn’t just gonna leave her like this.

 “H-Hey, Miss Security Officer? Um, Vanessa?” He ventured. “A-Are you—“

His attempt at comfort was cut off by Vanessa violently jerking her head up at the sound of his voice, her wild green eyes meeting his. “No, NO!” She let out a guttural cry and flinched away. Gregory quickly dropped his arm back to his side, as he was clearly upsetting her.

  “G-Get away from me! I’m not safe!” She pleaded, tucking herself ever further into a ball, as if to protect herself from something.

Gregory stood there, unsure of how to respond. Clearly it would be best to just leave her alone for the time being.

   Freddy! He remembered with a jolt. Oh gosh, he needed to go check on Freddy. His watch had been silent ever since that last message.

He took one last look at the tearful form of Officer Vanessa, then turned and ran back to find his friend.

All the STAFF bots had been deactivated. It seemed whatever he did with the arcade game to get rid of Vanny also relinquished her control over the bots. He ran past the piles of lifeless bots strewn over the ground, frantically searching the tangle of white-and-grey bodies for a flash of Freddy’s yellow-orange.

Gregory, finally finding him, skidded to a stop. Freddy was sprawled on the ground, his casing torn open with wires and tubes and other vital metal bits spilling out of the large gash like guts. His arms and legs were bent and cracked at awkward angles. Despite his head receiving the least of the damage, his eyes were closed.

He wasn’t moving.

  “No, no, no, Freddy!” Gregory whispered in disbelief, and flung himself over the broken animatronic’s chest with awail, ignoring the way the cracked casing uncomfortably poked into his arms and cheek.

  “I’m so, so sorry Freddy. I should have been faster!” He cried into the animatronic’s chest softly. Vanny was right, this is all my fault.

A rational part of him knew that Freddy was a robot, and robots could be fixed. But this damage…

Gregory wasn’t an engineer by any means, but he knew enough about computers to know that some very vital components of Freddy were damaged. And he knew that the Glamrocks were independent pieces of self-learning AI—if you could even call it artificial intelligence at this point. If his internal computers were fried, there was no salvaging it. Freddy would have to be “reprogrammed” and lose all “memory” he’d gained since his inception five years ago.

So even if the techs managed to repair him, he wouldn’t remember Gregory.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, sniffling quietly, not ready to leave the broken bear behind, when he heard a sound of creaking metal and plastic, and a paw came to rest on the boy’s head.

  “Freddy…?” Gregory gasped softly, and opened his eyes to find Freddy looking down at him.

  “Do not cry, superstar.” He smiled down at Gregory. His voice was weak but functional. “What is broken is not always unsalvageable.”

  “What do you mean?” Gregory lifted his head. That incessant spark of hope flickering to life once more.

Freddy let his paw fall back to the ground. “I want you to save what is good. Listen to my instructions closely…”

And so, under Freddy’s guidance, Gregory hunched over to perform one last operation on the bear, undoing the wires he used to connect Freddy's head during his first operation on the animatronic just a few hours before.

Freddy was broken. Gregory felt broken. But maybe they’d be okay. Because they were together.

And like Freddy said, what is broken is not always unsalvageable.