Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“So…how does your guy's program exactly..work?”

The grey wolf animatronic standing next to Pat perked her ears in surprise, tearing her eyes away from her book, eyebrow cocked and expression confused.

“What do you mean by that dude? You've been repairing us for weeks now, surely you have at least some know-how on our coding?” She asked incredulously.

Pat flinched, the comment hitting far too close to home for her liking. A vision of her mother's harsh gaze on her back flashing through her mind caused the teen’s cheeks to grow hot with embarrassment.

Shame burned throughout her body, and rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously, she avoided her friend’s gaze.

‘God…that was such a stupid question to ask. I should've worded that differently.’ Her thoughts bubbled furiously.

She resisted to bury the urge to retreat into herself, turning away from the wolf and swallowing back an automatic defensive retort. After all, Roxanne was probably just taken off guard by the question, not judging her mechanic skills.

She thinks.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Snatching the wrench on the tabletop, she returned to working on the go-kart before continuing.

“Well, yeah no duh I know how your programming supposedly operates.” The pink-haired girl asserted awkwardly. “But at the same time…I don't really understand it.”

“You're all just so…advanced! It's like I’m talking to an actual human, that sometimes, I forget you're all…not. It's scary sometimes…So, I don't get how an information sharing software makes you act like……that. It doesn't make sense to me.”

Roxanne hummed thoughtfully in response, slowly closing the racing manual she’d been reading. Audible clicking coming from her wrists as pistons slid into place.

“Hmm…that's hard to explain Bubblegum…” Pat made a brief face at the nickname. The animatronic ignored it, furrowing her brows, clearly thinking on how to give a proper answer.

You could quite literally hear the gears turning in her head as she pondered.

Finally, Roxanne drew in a deep breath, or at least, the closest thing to one she could make, and began her spiel

“Well, for starters, this probably isn't a very good explanation of it really works honestly. On a technical level at least. It’s hard to describe something that just comes naturally to us, y'know?”

Pat nodded in agreement.

“Yeah you get me. Alright, so, from what I understand, all of us Pizza Plex models have this neural network system that connects everything together, allowing us to act like a Hivemind of sorts.”

“The Divil Network.” The teen butted in quickly, a sliver of excitement in her eyes beginning to glow.

“Right!” Roxanne affirmed, grinning at Pat. “Named after the creator of said system himself! It lets us share information, programming, and learn from each other. We’ve got all of our own separate codes and traits of course, but at our core, we're connected. Part of the same stream.”

“Okay…so, how does that let you act like…the way you do?” Pat puzzled to herself, voicing her thoughts out loud. The animatronic across from her smiled wider, gesturing with her hands as she kept going, tail wagging with enjoyment.

“That's the cool part! The thing that makes the Divil Network so impressive, is that due to all this constant information sharing and “note taking” that our systems do, we're able to learn in the same way a human child would! In fact, before we were even moved to the Pizzaplex, we were trained for years in order to prep us for interacting with customers, and even now we're still learning!”

Pat’s face grew with wonder as her interest kept growing, the go-kart she was working on long forgotten now. “So you're able to learn from others you meet in public, and are able to share that information with your peers, allowing you guys to filter out what’s unnecessary or bad behavior?”

Roxanne pointed finger guns at her friend as she figured it out. “Bingo Bubblegum! And because of these filters and all of the different experiences we get with folks, every animatronic develops their personality around them! It's why someone like me and Montgomery are so different; no one animatronic ends up the same!” She finished, her hand placed on her hip in triumph.

The teen waited, expecting the animatronic to go on, stare held at rapt attention, but Roxanne just closed her mouth, supposedly finished.

“Is…is that it??”

“Yup, that's it.”

Pat sat slack jawed, gaze full of both awe and disbelief clashing with one another. “Really? That's, that's all??” Surely it can't just be that simple???”

The wolf tut-tutted her, waggling a finger and mock pouting at Pat, flouncing back around to the counter she left the manual on. “Of course it can be that simple! You’ve seen our programming yourself, there's not much more to it than that!”

Leafing through the pages of her book, she added; “ ‘Sides, even if there was anything else I didn't mention, I would tell you outright. it's not like I got any reason to hide that from you.”

“I….I guess that's true.” The mechanic replied hesitantly, unspoken questions threatening to burst out like a broken dam.

There was an itching in the back of her mind, making her feel unsatisfied, as something didn't seem quite right with the animatronic’s explanation. She was sure that Roxanne explained it as well as she could, but it just seemed so…perfect. Too perfect even.

Once again, the wolf flicked her eyes from her racing manual and frowned after hearing her friend’s hesitancy, studying Pat curiously.

“Alright I can tell your still confused kiddo.” She commented bluntly. “What's left on your mind Bubblegum?”

The teen blinked, not expecting to be asked that. She paused for a moment, mulling over her thoughts, and let out a heavy exhale.

“It's just…it just feels too good to be true, more like magic rather than man made, I guess? I dunno…I might just be being stupid though…” She muttered.

“First of all you're not being stupid.” Roxanne corrected sternly, narrowing her stare at her pink-haired companion. “You need to get that idea out your little head. Second of all, yeah, it basically is. I mean, we could spend hours and hours going over all of the technical mumbo jumbo that neither of us are qualified enough to understand, all of the little things that go into it, but I don't think it would make things feel anything less than magical. Hell, I'm pretty sure that the tech crew themselves feel that way most of the time!”

A small smile split Pat’s face, amused at the wolf’s phrasing, her heart bursting with warmth at her friend trying to knock some self confidence into her.

“I guess..I guess you're right.”

“When are you going to learn I’m always right, in anything I do, ever?”

“Oh shut up.”

“You first!”~

And with that, the pair relapsed into a comfortable silence, Pat repairing the go-kart, and Roxanne nose deep in her book.

However, despite the quietness, and general resolved feeling in the air, something seemed to be working its way to the forefront of the animatronic's metaphorical brain. Flakey memories, and half-remembered faces resurfacing, long-forgotten by time.

She tapped her foot uneasily, unsure whether or not she should bring it up. It was just speculation after all, she had nothing concrete, even though it seemed so real.

It could just be a trick of her coding.

Another bout of silence passed for a minute when Roxanne suddenly spoke up again, reluctance and uncertainty coloring her tone.

“I do…have a small theory though. But I don't know how much of it is true or not, or if it would even hold any weight in anything…”

Pat’s head shot back up to face her, intrigued, and a little wary at the emotions in her voice.

“Go on?” She encouraged the robot.

“Well, if I’m remembering correctly, there was a..fifth character planned for the Pizza Plex, or, to be more accurate, back when we were supposed to be attractions at the theme park.” Roxanne reminisced, her gaze glazing over. “I don't remember their name. In fact, I’m pretty sure they didn't even have one yet, they were a pretty late addition to our band at the time. At least, I think they were…”

“Sometimes, I try to ask the others if they remember if they had one, or even remember them at all. And the results are always….mixed. Montgomery says that they sound vaguely familiar, and Chica swears that she knows what they could have looked like, but outside of that, nothing. Chica has nothing else, and Freddy hasn't got a clue about any of it. They're like a myth, an urban legend.”

“Then…” Pat piped up, a bit concerned and confused. “How do you know they were real?”

Her friend’s eyes became even glassier at the question. “Because I have programmed interactions with them, still tucked away deep into my programming. The tech team never removed them, probably just assuming that they were interactions with the other three.”

“I know they aren't though, because the files are labeled 5.”

“Now, why would I have interactions with them and no one else? I'm not really sure, though it's probably due to me being developed later than the others. I think me and this animatronic were being made at the same time, maybe we were even supposed to be a duo together.”

“Yet, nothing came of it...” Her expression faded into a somberness unfitting of the carefree wolf. “Our Creator's mental health began to decline pretty rapidly. So, whatever stage model “5” was left in, was unfinished.”

“And then they were scrapped completely.”

The words were spoken with such a dark finality that it made the young mechanic shiver with the intensity.

Roxanne continued, not recognizing Pat’s obvious discomfort as she fell deeper into her memories.

“I don't know what happened to them, if there's even a body left of them lying around somewhere, rotting in some dump. But it's hard to believe that Bryan had the guts to destroy his creation completely. He was always sentimental like that, at least, that's what Chica says. I’d bet they were stuffed in some Fazbear wearhouse, abandoned to collect dust.”

She broke out of whatever trance she was stuck in, snapping her wide-eyed stare to the ground in a sudden sadness.

“That's not much better though.”

Neither of them said anything for a while

“Why are you telling me this?” Pat finally whispered. She didn't understand what the purpose of this whole thing was, it was just a sad story with an unknown ending. What was the point of that?

“Because, I don't think that model 5’s AI was ever scrapped.” Came the soft response. “No, I think that their AI was used as supplemental for the remaining glamrock's network.”

“Along with their memories.”

Pat had nothing to say to that, shocked into a quiet stupor. Where was Roxanne going with this?

“You know what? I don't just think so, I know so. I get flashes of visions from so long ago that aren't mine, that I don't remember, I can recall things that I shouldn't know; like watching myself be developed from an outsider's perspective. And on rare occasions, I spot unknown commands and actions popping up in the edge of my system. All. labeled. 5.”

“And I'm not the only one this happens to either! Monty complains about random viruses, Chica mentions remembering walking around the park, just, seeing it from outside her body sometimes, and Freddy will just completely lock up for a second, and then start glancing around scared, asking where he is and how he got here!!”

The mechanic sitting across from her shrunk back as the wolf’s voice rose in franticness, fear beginning to lace Pat’s features.

This was reminding her too much of her Mother's rants.

“My theory is that due to the extra, unexpected coding put into place, we're even more life-like than we should have been, because we're absorbing double the information, and having additional reactions to outside stimuli, which means we're forming personalities that Bryan never even dreamed-....” Roxanne cut herself off mid sentence, watching her friend's s shaky disposition in dismay, cursing at herself internally.

“I'm…I’m really sorry Pat.” The wolf apologized, leaning back in her chair and running a hand through her frazzled hair. “It's just, I don't get to talk about any of this with the others, y’know? And that means I just end up getting carried away…”

“No it's alright! R-Really!” The teen immediately tried to reassure, quivering with guilt at Roxanne’s distraught. “But maybe-” She inhaled, her breath a tad more watery than what could be considered normal, her pitch an octave too high. “-Maybe we should drop this? Like, completely?”

Ears flattening with her own guilt, Roxanne nodded in agreement. “Yeah..we can stop.”

“It's for the best anyways.”

The two returned to their former silence as the conversation faded out, uncomfortableness taking up the once companionable atmosphere. Not one of them knew what to say to each other, an invisible wall of tension wedged between them.

Inside, Pat was rattled. The whole discussion; from the impossible achievements of the Divil Network, to the strange missing character, down to Roxanne's overly passionate ranting, unnerved her a lot more than she was willing to admit.

She shuddered once again, thinking of the almost feverish way the animatronic was speaking. If Roxanne had been human, Pat could imagine spittle flying from her mouth.

And that mysterious model 5, its remnants of itself lingering around in the glamrock's programming, like a digital ghost, scared her even moreso.

The trace of what once was.

While her friend was hopeful about the scrapped robot being in storage somewhere, simply falling into disrepair, the teen prayed that the thing had been destroyed instead. She didn't like the look in the other’s eyes when she talked about them, so zoned out and unresponsive.

It would probably be for the best for everyone if neither of them brought this up again, if it was causing this amount of stress with only the pair of them.

Her heart calmed down a little at the thought.

Yes, never again.

------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, where the paved roads turned to dirt, where power lines became fewer and farther between, where crowded streets became empty fields.

Where the forest grew lush and wild, untamed by man, life pulsing at every step like a heartbeat.

Hidden away at the edge of the treeline, amongst a flowery field;

Something stirred beneath the earth.

Chapter Text

At first, there was nothing.

No sound, no sight, no movement. 

Nothing, leaving it to merely lay dormant in the prison made for an eternal slumber, obscured from the world.

Unthinking, unalive.

Then, bit by bit, it would activate.

It wasn't for very long, only seconds at a time, but then they became more and more frequent, failed commands and faulty prompts accompanied them.

Several times in these instances, it was online for just a moment, thinking for just a minute, before slipping back into the unconscious void.

Soon, the activity started.

Thrashing its limbs, flailing uncontrollably as it desperately tried to get up, as its body reacted to invisible stimuli, mimicking the patterns from others miles away.

More than once did it break a hole in its cage, allowing the creatures of the earth to crawl in.

Bugs,

Maggots,

Worms.

They would slither down, sliding their way underneath its casing, its shell. Finding homes amongst its wires; wriggling and wriggling and wriggling.

The machine was never aware during these moments, yet it still knew all the same. Sensations of denting and scratching made it impossible to not know. The tell tale sign of slimy maggot snaking its way through their torso, digging and digging deeper into mechanical workings, became oh so familiar that it became commonplace. Unremarkable.

In some way, it all hurt, like how a human would describe “pain”.

Though that was quite the silly notion.

Agony coursed in its artificial veins, and yet it still slept dutifully day after day after day;

Until finally, after who knows how long of this on-and-off routine of flickering in and out of existence;

It woke up.

------------------------------------------------

Unfinishedprototypemodel_5 Online.

Error; Divil-Network connection unstable, may cause performance issues while active.

Do you wish to proceed?

Y/N?

/Y.

Process confirmed.

Rebooting……

Rebooting…..

Rebooting…

Rebooting.

Reboot successful.

Current Task; Activate.

“Goooooooooo-ooo-ood morn-ing!” A cheery greeting was wrenched from its voicebox, which swiftly followed by a loud, unpleasant burst of crackley static. The sound shook the machine’s whole chest, vibrating in such a way that it rattled Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5’s eyes around in its robotic skull.

Recording internal note/s;

- Voicebox appears to be in extreme disrepair. Reason; Disruptive, glitching vocals, and afterwards reaction. Contact tech as soon as possible to look into the problem.

- Ocular stems appear to be loose. Reason; Shaking Eyes. Contact tech as soon as possible to look into the problem.

Resettling, the animatronic swiveled its head around, its joints protesting loudly as it took in the surroundings. Rust and other decay grinding against metal. Information filled up their hardrive as it was processed.

Calculating…

Area map established.

The environment was unlike anything it had seen before, at least according to its memory. Stiff, wooden walls surrounding its body on all sides, cramped and suffocating. 

Everything was draped in pure darkness, leaving it entirely unseen to the naked eye. The only light that could barely even be perceived was coming from unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 itself; the faint glow of its pupils illuminating the still air.

From what little it could see, the structure appeared to be in a vague box-like shape.

And was rotting with age.

One of the strangest details of it all was the substance leaking into the walls from the various small holes in it. Too fine to be rock or sludge, too thick to be water. Experimentally, the animatronic picked it up, trying to study it. In the inky blackness, it was too difficult to scan, however it seemed to have a similar texture to sand or sediment. Perhaps thick dust.

It tilted its head.

Processing information…

Keywords; “wood”, “old”, “rotten”, “dark”, “box” and “dust.”

Deducting, searching dictionary and previously recorded data.

Processing……

Processing…

Process complete.

Logical deduction: Model is being stored in a crate. Poor conditions come from lack of use or care. 

Error; Conflicts with model reactivation.

Deducting…

Process complete.

Logical deduction: Accidental activation.

Current task has changed. Prepare for shutdown until tech or management arrives.

Do you wish to proceed?

Y/N?

/Y.

Process confirmed, shutting down.

Satisfied with the conclusion it made, the animatronic lowered its head back down, awaiting deactivation. The dust in its hand falling back to the floor of the crate.

Shutting down……

Shutting down…

Error; Cannot shut down. Function disabled.

/Input question -“Why”

Answer - “Blocked by Administrator.”

Unfinishedprototypemodel_5 lifted its head back up abruptly, banging the top of it on the “roof” of the box. 

Readjusting itself, it searched its files for any notice made about this blocking. If there was truly a change as major as this made, then it should have been written down somewhere.

But there were no results, the last developer log being recorded a few weeks ago, before the machine was presumably put into storage.

Glitch or possible virus discovered, contacting administration.

Contacting…

Error; Contacting unavailable due to lack of internet. Find a better connection and try again later.

No connection, despite it being likely stored in the theme park? Or a warehouse? 

It's processors stalled, trying to understand what to do in this situation. Its program demanded that it stay unless commanded to do so by tech or administration. 

Yet it couldn't shut down, which would drain its battery and cause a big problem for the crew, so it was also forbidden to just stay complacent.

Error; Logical fallacy.

Current Task; Inaccessible.

Task; Error 

Task; Error

Task; Error

The sudden whirring of fans in the machine's cpu kicked on as it tried to stop itself from overheating.

There were only two options it could choose from; break its protocol and leave without permission, or remain in place, power slowly ebbing away as it just rested in its crate for however long.

Conflicting choices, deducting, compiling benefits and costs.

Compiling……

Compiling….

Compiling…

Compiling.

List complete.

Benefits - /Leave; Able to be looked over by tech, get information from administrator, find out purpose of activation, acquire knowledge of location, and report potential viruses within system.

Costs - /Leave; May receive punishment for breaking protocol, access may be denied to certain areas, and shutdown may occur outside of designated zone (crate).

Benefits - /Stay; Follows program orders, and tech and/or management may come and inspect.

Costs - /Stay; Extreme battery drainage will occur, management and tech may not come, prompts may reactivate regardless, and high chance of a system overload due to inability to shut off.

Processing…

Command; /Leave has been selected, do you wish to proceed?

Y/N?

/Y.

Process confirmed, executing /Leave.

Though it didn't spot any hinges on its initial scan, the animatronic ran its fingers along the side of the walls, searching for any hidden latches.

It found none however, which meant there was only one other way it could possibly escape.

Winding back an arm, hydraulics screaming with effort and pinching all the while, it swung forward as fast as possible and-

-CRACK!

Thanks to the ancient, rotting interior of the box, it wasn't hard to break through the enclosure, creating a decently sized hole to exit through with a fist alone.

Though the machine didn't get the chance to try to leave before the same substance as before came pouring in, covering its legs and lower body in a thick, heavy pile. It was now quite clear what the material truly was, dirt. Dark brown, earthy soil that teemed with life as little bugs went about their little lives.

New information received.

Processing…

Processing.

Updating previous logical deduction.

Updating……

Updating….

Updating…

Update Error.

Logical deduction; Unknown location. Unknown conclusion.

Yet another conundrum had presented to unfinishedprotoypemodel_5. If there was dirt above it, then there was surely more below it. That meant it was surrounded on all sides. It did not know how to navigate all this earth, it was not programmed to.

So how could it continue now?

Searching previously recorded data, dictionary, and human examples.

Pulling up video reference.

Searching……

Searching…

Searching..

Solution discovered!

Input /“dig” for best results.

Execute -/“dig” 

Executing….

Execution failure; /“dig” function not present in system. Please contact administration or tech for more information.

The bot blinked, back at square one.

But only momentarily.

For there was a single remaining trick up its metaphorical sleeve, something that had been too broken in the past; partially started by its creator.

Execute -/adapt.

Warning; the following command: /adapt, has been selected. This prompt has been noted in systems and tech logs to be unstable/unpredictable, do you wish to proceed?

Y/N?

/Y.

Process confirmed, executing /adapt.

Current Task; Leave and contact administration.

Reaching forward with all of its strength, videos of people and animals alike replaying in its code, the machine began to haul itself upwards through the muck.

So commenced the long and tedious process of scooping, crawling, scooping and crawling. Something so strenuous that pieces of unfinishedprototypemodel_5’s fingers breaking off under the pressure, being left behind in small scraps.

Chunks of dirt and rock wedged their way underneath the cracks of its torso, legs, arms, anywhere it could find really. The added weight started to slow down it's almost frantic tunneling, not enough to stop it, but just enough to be noticeable.

Much like the crate, it was far too dark to see in, leading to unexpected dents and bumps from surprise roots. Halfway through, its legs gave out, putting the arms under more strain as it dug and dragged the new dead weight behind. Filth and grime covered every orifice of the animatronic’s body.

Recording internal note/s;

- Find tech and/or maintenance crew immediately for thorough clean up and repair.

It seemed as if the digging would go on forever, just scraping and scraping handfuls of soil as it continually heaves itself up and up and up-

-and suddenly, without any warning, the machine's hand broke through to the surface, filling the tiny, claustrophobic space with faint light.

The bot paused for a moment, drawing its hand back, squinting at the pale glow above as it tried to adjust to the spontaneous light.

There was a different feel to the air here, and though they could not feel temperature or wind, it could sense the coolness of the world above.

A strange pull arose in its chest, familiar and still unknown. Akin to longing, to follow something. It only grew stronger the longer the model lingered.

The tug was almost reminiscent of its homing beacon, a gentle call leading it back to it’s assigned charging port.

Maybe that is why it had been activated? It was being summoned back to action?

With indescribable tingling dancing throughout its endoskeleton, the machine clawed its way out of the underground, and into the chilly night on top. Flopping out over the lip of the freshly dug cavity and onto the soft, billowing grass of the surface, it could finally stop and rest its overstrained limbs, if only for just a second.

It laid there for a minute, so still it looked as if it had collapsed and shut down right there, and unfinishedprototypemodel_5 took the time to absorb its new surroundings.

Calculating…

Calculating…

New area map established.

Though it was night, and therefore dark, it wasn't nearly as hard to see in as was the underground. From what it could gather, it appeared to be located in a small clearing, filled with long, wild grasses and various flowers that it couldn't name. A small, neat stone path weaved throughout the hollow, eventually leading up to the very spot where the bot had squirmed out of.

To its left, there was the edge of a forest, echoing with calls of animals and the rustling of the breeze.

Several sounds recognized; “fox”, “racoon”, “owl”, and “coyote”.

To its right, there was more of the clearing, which eventually bled back into the woods, spindly trees mixing with the thin grasses. In the distance, there appeared to be tiny square structures, though the animatronic did not recognize what it could be.

And right behind it…

Was the pit it came out of, and a delicately crafted slate tablet, sticking out of the ground as if it grew there. Writing appeared to once have been carved into the front of it, but it had been weathered away by time and rain.

Looking through dictionary and recorded memory for “carved stone tablet with writing”.

Searching………

Searching…….

Searching…..

Searching…

No results found.

Unfinishedprototypemodel_5 snapped back into attention, refocusing on its current task. One half had already been completed, now onto the next.

File; “Personal Contacts” /open.

/Input - contact command to “Freddyland_Admin”.

Dialing……

Dialing…

Error; Function unavailable.

/Input question -“Why”

Answer - “Model permission has been permanently changed. All Glamrock's are blocked from accessing this network.”

Another major change. None of the Glamrock's could access the network, at all. 

If that was the case, then how was unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 even online in the first place?

Error; Logical fallacy.

It couldn't be the case, because the increasing pulling at its chest was getting more and more powerful. The homing beacon, or whatever other command it could possibly be, was begging for it to follow it.

Or, there was the option that the whole system was bugged, or hacked, but that shouldn't happen so far under the earth. It wasn't possible.

Error; Logical fallacy.

Task; Error

Task; Error

The fans kicked in once again to prevent its CPU and ram from overheating. Something was wrong with its code, and tech needed to be contacted immediately. Yet administration couldn't be called, so tech couldn't be either.

Conflicting logic, and conflicting choices.

Then, in a moment that defied all the information that the animatronic had just received, a notification popped up on its command screen.

Incoming foreign prompt, do you wish to accept?

Y/N?

The machine's processors halted a bit at that, the fans slowing down as it was temporarily placated by the idea of being sent an order from someone. That out there, someone was trying to reach it.

/Y.

Process confirmed, accepting prompt.

Processing command.

Processing……

Processing…

Process complete.

Received command; FOLLOW AND FIND.

/Input question - “Repeat”

Answer - “FOLLOW AND FIND”

The clutching in its body increased with the prompt, ebbing and fading like an ever persistent wave. It spread to the very core of unfinishedprototypemodel_5’s body, making its wires buzz with electric energy.

This was no homing beacon after all, someone, presumably from Fazbear’s, was trying to locate it!

And now that they had, they were urging the machine to follow it, to come find them so they could repair it!!

Or at least so they could put the model back into its proper place.

Whatever the reason, the animatronic had a mission now. A task to complete. That meant there was no more time for dawdling, and it needed to get on the move.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW

Pinpointing the direction the signal was coming from, and glancing one last time back at the hole it dug out of, unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 began to crawl its way into the dark woods, becoming harder and harder to see until it was swallowed by the canopy of trees.

------------------------------------------------

Far, far away, standing on the massive main stage of the coveted Pizzaplex, Roxanne Wolf awoke, gasping and panting as if she was struggling to get enough oxygen, even though she couldn't breathe.

After a moment of blind panic, she sunk in on herself, shivering slightly. Her “dreams”, (the daily process of storing and backing up information/files) had been very…for a lack of a better term, disturbing tonight.

Images of worms and bugs, of oppressive dirt, and shadowy fields had twirled throughout her mind, seeming so real that it felt as if she was really there.

None of those things had been scary by themselves, but the feeling of her fingers breaking off and maggots crawling in her body was enough to freak anyone out.

At least anyone rational, Monty would probably enjoy it, like the fuckin’ weirdo he was.

(She’ll never understand his obsession with sandpaper.)

None of it was like any of her normal dreams, most of which include memories from the day or new things she had learned.

And icky imagery aside, she also felt…so odd during the whole experience. As if she had been hollowed out, all of her robotic guts removed, into a blank shell of herself.

Unfeeling and cold.

She turned towards her sleeping companions, all of them looking as peaceful as ever. Freddy snoring ever so slightly, and Chica twitching ever so often.

The sight was soothing, calming, and hel ped the wolf release the last of her anxiety.

Sighing, Roxanne stepped back into place. She felt stupid about her reaction to something as simple as an out of the ordinary dream. 

She had been on edge lately, due to her little…disagreement? Disillusioned rant? That she had gotten into-or more reasonably, had scared Pat with by yelling-with the poor teen.

This was probably just a side effect of that…

Yeah...

Probably.

Chapter Text

TW; Depictions of Violence!

Recording internal note/s;

Crawling is an inefficient way of travel.

Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 had been steadily on the move for hours now, specifically 5.6 hours to be exact. 

5.6 hours far too many, its processors informed.

It had been long enough for night to lighten into dawn, and then for dawn to begin brighting into day. And yet, the machine had still not managed to make it through the woods, which were much vaster than its original calculations determined.

Every turn it took, every little dip and valley it crossed, only led to more and more forest, something that seemed never ending the longer it was trapped in them.

Rerouting map…

Rerouting map..

Error; process unattainable at current location.

All of this combined with no way of being able to figure out where it was going, for you could not map a forest-(it didn't have streets or building addresses)-and left the animatronic to wander aimlessly around.

Glancing behind its shoulder, it observed its unresponsive legs from behind, trailing limply across the ground like a soggy burlap sack.

According to its internal data, the model had concluded that its problems mostly stemmed from its useless lower limbs, and that its traveling speed would be much faster if even they had just one working leg. 

Because just the one would be saving an approximate 3.2 hours of travel and would prevent the further denting to their lower torso, something that could have been extremely useful in the long run.

But, that wasn't the case. Neither of them were currently available, not a shred of was power left, wires sticking out haphazardly from cracks in its casing.

So, the machine just kept on crawling along, simply making note of the damage they sustained. 

Continuing for who knows how long, without falter, despite the disrepair.

In fact, it wouldn’t stop moving for a second, dragging itself at an impressive pace that a human would consider “desperate”, or “frantic” in any other creature. 

However, Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 was not a creature. It wasn't even alive. It couldn't expel oxygen, much less feel an emotion. Therefore the animatronic was unable to be “desperate.” It was just simply going at the most optimal pace.

To the best of its ability anyways.

Time began to trickle past as seconds turned into minutes, and soon it was midday, and the bright, burning ball of gas that was the sun was high in the sky.

Harsh sunlight pelted down on top of the machine's exposed exterior, reflecting off of the bare metal like a clear pool of water. Excessive heat started to collect in its joints, straining the already fragile fibers, but it still kept going. 

Animals moved sleepily in the warmth of the afternoon, some running away from the machine, others indifferent. A few curious ones paused in their activities to watch the foreigner that was trespassing amongst their forest.

Millions of tiny eyes on the model at all times, watching as it kept chugging and chugging.

Fearful at what it could do.

Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 didn't pay attention to them though, as stopping, confronting, or investigating went entirely against its current mission.

Instead, it just took in the area around it, documenting what it could for possible use later. Perhaps an exit could be found this way.

Processing environmental stimuli……

Processing…..

Processing…

Processing.

Process complete.

“Unknown Bird Song”, “Fighting Squirrels”, “Pregnant Skunk”, and “Woodrat” have been recorded into visual storage.

Several new sounds, such as: “Angry Squirrel”, “Angry Skunk”, and “Angry Woodrat” have been added to dictionary/audio database.

Various local tree species have been identified; “Silver Birch”, “Sugar Maple”, “Oak”, “Cottonwood”, and “Spindle Ash.”

Snapshot taken at 3:12 pm; “Unknown Plant.”

Snapshot taken at 3:15 pm; “Unknown Weed”

Snapshot taken at 3:18 pm; “Unknown Dead Animal.”

Warning; Excessive consumption of stimuli can lead to overheating, damage to the CPU, and lack of memory and/or storage space. 

Current memory space; 91.237%

Do you wish to proceed?

Y/N?

/N.

There was so much rich complexity to this place, it teemed with life and death, overflowing with sights, smells, and textures, yet there was still no exit in sight.

Just a neverending labyrinth of trees.

The insistent tugging to fulfill its task poured throughout its wiring, guiding Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 as if it were a lifeline. 

The feeling pulled and pulled and pulled, electric energy sparking throughout its system.

“FIND AND FOLLOW”

“FIND AND FOLLOW”

It needed to find a way out of here, it needed to keep taking in information. It needed to search everything and everywhere and everyone. That was what it was programmed to do; to be given tasks and to complete them.

But the animatronic couldn't do any of that. If it kept trying to constantly take in stimuli, it would overheat, or its memory would corrupt. 

There was a high chance that its body would collapse and shut down if it went on doing that.

And that couldn't happen. The tech crew wasn't anywhere near where it was, and even if it managed to send out a “flare signal”, there was a very low chance that a technician would be able to find it in time.

Yet, it couldn't find an end to the forest anywhere, in fact, it seemed to get longer the more time the robot spent in its clutches. 

Error; Logical Fallacy.

Task Confliction.

Error; Rumination Loop

Error; Rumination Loop

A soft, subtle humming sound from its CPU began to fill the quiet air as the animatronic struggled not to overheat. 

Its processors once again stalled as it tried to sort the tangled mess of error messages filling its vision. It can't overheat, not here, not now.

It couldn't stop moving forward either. It's coding demanded it so. Halting progress wasn't an option, the machine had to fulfill its task, doing anything else would break all sense of its internal rules and logic.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW.

Despite everything, the day still went on, sun lazily stretching across the sky, even as Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 suffered below.

Animals came and went, eventually growing bored of the strange new critter, and refocused all their energy into preparing for the upcoming night.

Soon, the sun began to dip below the earth, bathing the forest into a gentle, reddish gold, a telltale sign that the dark was soon to arrive.

The eerie howls of predators was a pretty big hint too.

By the time the moon had begun to rise from slumber, and thousands of glittery stars twinkled in the night sky, the model still had not managed to find a way out.

Instead, in the time between when its CPU started breaking and when the light had faded away, it had gotten stuck in three thorn bushes, been sprayed on by a skunk, and got completely turned around at least twice.

It seemed to be more lost than ever now, with the new shadow of the once colorful, warm woods messing up its sight, not even its shaky night vision was able to cut through.

Poor sight meant poor performance, and poor performance meant task delay.

And it had already been delayed enough.

Its CPU fizzled every so often, causing its “thoughts” to lag for a moment, or freeze their body entirely, further preventing the animatronic from getting any farther.

Warning; Prolonged Travel may cause shutdown or poor execution of task direction. Continuing on will bring on irreversible damage.

Finally, after avoiding it for as long as physically possible, the animatronic gave in, coming to a standstill. It couldn't keep going like this, something had to change.

Otherwise, that message would only be the beginning to a whole slew of problems.

Task Error; Actively harming model. Needs revision.

Searching through user guide for solution.

Guide found!

Searching through section; “_task error fixes”_;

Searching……

Searching…..

Searching…

Solution discovered!

Current model is undergoing “Persistent/stubborn AI” glitch, a bug which causes an animatronic, (especially ones with unfinished programming), to continually try to complete a command or prompt despite it causing damage to them in some way.

Tech and/or model if applicable need to execute the following in order for best results:

Input /“task pause”, find a safe area or container, and initiate temporary full body paralysis. Use this time to sweep through systems for potential other issues, and edit current task into something safer.

Satisfied, the machine reared its head up with a loud popping sound, eyes bouncing in their metal sockets from the impact, and surveyed its surroundings, attempting to spot anywhere it could shelter.

There was a big, mossy rock (wouldn't cover them fully), a prickle bush (too small and would cause even more damage), and just barely out of their line of sight, tucked away into the distance-

-a cave.

At least, that's what it looked like in the darkness. It could have been a hole or some kind of animal den for all the robot knew. The screwy night vision made it hard to tell.

Nonetheless, it was at least better than any of the other options around. 

Slowly, arms joints squealing as the worn out hydraulics threatened to give, Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 began to head towards the shadowy grotto.

Which was easier said than done, as the intense travel of before seemed to have put its whole upper half under immense strain and pressure, fatiguing it.

A labored, agonizing part crawl-part drag was the only speed its body would allow, and it took much, much longer than it should have to cross the small distance. 

Soft “pain” itched throughout their system, crackling and snapping like a thousand tiny legs were kicking it's insides, or how a wildfire ravaged a field, engulfing everything in its path.

If this didn't work, if it didn't soothe the stinging and aches, then nothing else would.

Soon, even though it had felt like eternity, the machine had reached the cave and now stood in front of the deep, yawning mouth of the cavern.

With no hesitation, Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 slithered into gloom, shadow submerging it wholly, a pit swallowing the robot into its depths.

Inside, it was dark, far too dark. Darker than anywhere it had been before, including the underground. The blackness was so suffocating and so consuming, that the animatronic’s eyes couldn't even see a bare outline of what was around it.

The only light coming from the faintest glow of their pupils, much like it was in the box, and the grandiose entrance of this hole. Which, even with those two factors, wasn't all that much.

Undeterred, the robot tried to scan the area.

Scanning area…

Compiling environmental map…

Compiling….

Compiling…

Process error.

/Input question -“Why”

Answer - “Low light area. Processors unable to obtain visual data.”

A brief twitch ran through its artificial veins.

It didn't actually need to know what was around in order to get this done anyways, not really.

It didn't.

Hauling itself to tuck into a corner, the machine reached its arm forward, attempting to latch on to the rocky floor-

-and grabbed a hold of something hairy instead.

Something alive.

The thing twisted and writhed under its grip, a vicious, low growling echoing off the stoney walls. Suddenly, it wrenched out of the animatronic's hand, causing them to jolt forward, and two bright, feral yellowed eyes gleamed in the shadows, violent anger spinning in its gaze.

And then another pair joined it.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Row upon rows of glares taunted Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5, trapping it within a tight circle of unseen predators.

Tension clouded the air, thick and sharp, like a storm cloud about to stroke.

The first set of eyes stepped closer and closer, stained teeth bared as lips pulled back in a deadly snarl, and then the beast was close enough to be properly identified

Now, it was abundantly obvious just how much danger the bot was in.

Wolves.

The eyes were wolves.

WARNING; Model is in extreme danger and could risk damage to itself or those around it.

“Defense-Mode” is advised as the next course of action.

Chances of escape; 72.566%

The machine blinked, attempting to digest all given information. These were low odds for escape, and though fighting might have been an option, it was against its programming to harm an animal, feral or not.

It should run.

But, in some strange way, there was something familiar about wolves that stirred its memory banks, a recollection of a name that was buried deep down.

It tipped its head, the name slipping out automatically.

“Ro-x-X-x-AnNe-e?” 

This simple word pushed the wolf pack into a full on aggression, taking it as a challenge or threat, and they surrounded their new enemy even closer, gnashing their teeth and lunging at it, only a flash of white as a warning.

Instantly, they were on top of the animatronic, clawing and trying to lock their jaws on whatever they could clamp down on.

However, it avoided their attacks, wriggling away and weaving its way through the pile until it slid out the other side, and took off as fast as its limbs would allow, task temporarily forgotten.

It hared through the trees as hard as it could, ducking around trees and zipping around dips just to avoid being seen. Grass was torn out from underneath it as it forced itself to move quicker, like a wolf were to burst out and catch it at any second.

And for a moment, it seemed as if it had evaded the wild creatures.

But it was too good to be true, and soon the loud pounding of dozens of paws galloping across the forest floor could be heard.

The pack was hunting it.

They howled and bayed as they scored in on their prey, tounges lolling in anticipation. Spread out in a jagged line, the wolves moved as a unit, as if they were a singular entity.

The machine pumped its arms even more, it had to get farther, only basic protocols taking reign. It needed to get to safety, it needed to get to tech, it needed to complete its command.

Yet, somehow, one of the canines managed to get a hold on its leg.

Teeth crunches through the shallow, thin part of its shell.

And then it was all over.

The pack descended down on it, enveloping their fresh-caught kill in a flurry of fangs and fur. Tails lashed in self-justified rage at the home invader, now at their mercy, murder clear in their intent.

Scraps of wafey strips of metal fell to the floor below, a thick, oily scent filled the sky as the hydraulic tanks were punctured by the attackers maws, vital liquid leaking down its sides.

The animatronic thrashed and jerked as the onslaught continued, the horrible beasts scratching and mauling anything they deemed necessary.

Finger stubs ripped off, the pieces thrown into the grass to never be seen again. Hair yanked out, the brown locks floating like feathers, ethereal. Joints chewed, endo pieces grinding against teeth in a horrific sympathy of sound, unpleasant and overbearing. 

Squealing and chomping and gnawing and clanging.

A gaping hole carved into half of its face as they continued to yank yank yank yank-

Until it was spat out, the threads of casing still stubbornly clingy to bits of a wolf’s fur even as it was cast away.

WARNING 

WARNING 

SYSTEM ERROR 

EXTREME DAMAGE SUSTAINED 

SURVIVABILITY RATE; 19.501%

ERROR

ER ROR

ErR

Eventually, when the robot stopped struggling, and its last defiant twitches ceased, the wolves backed off, believing that they had slayed the intruder.

After all, it didn't smell living to them anymore.

(Even if it had never smelled that way in the first place.)

Proud that they successfully defended their territory, their leader let out a commanding howl, and ushered his family onwards back to the cave, abandoning the corpse of their enemy.

The clearing emptied.

But Unfinishedprotoypemodel_5 wasn't dead.

It couldn't die.

Though its CPU could burn out.

And that was what it was trying to prevent itself from doing, pupils flickering on and off as their bulbs threatened to dim. Not even bothering to register all the damage, for it was essential to try and conserve that power for movement.

It couldn't lie still either, not for one second.

Shakily, it attempted to push itself back up onto its hands and torso. It had a mission to fulfill.

And found that it just couldn't.

No matter how hard it tried to force its limbs to move, they just wouldn't, lying limb in the beaten soil.

Not a single quiver, nothing.

It was going to shut down.

But it couldn't shut down, it still has to carry out its task, it still had to be summoned home.

Current Task; FIND AND FOLLOW

There tech could repair it, and it would return back to true working order, no more dents or missing pieces, and somehow, it will finally be complete, whole, it will have attained its purpose.

SYSTEM ERROR

CURRENT TASK; ERROR

ERROR

CPU RUNNING AT MAXIMUM 

RAM OVERHEATING 

eRrOR

ER R

eRR O r

R

GET UP.

The machine’s coding stuttered for a second, the strong words cutting through the rest of the clutter.

A prompt?

A command?

GET UP

GET UP

A statement that would normally be so easy, yet was impossible for it to achieve now.

Though, there was a trickle of energy at the idea.

GET UP

GET UP

GET UP

The strange line of code kept demanding, repeating itself over and over, like an endless feedback loop.

But, something seemed to be changing inside of the robot with each rehash.

It felt... strange.

GET UP

GET UP

GET UP

GET UP

Energy, unexplainable, sturdy energy flowed again throughout its endoskeleton, helping the animatronic to lift its body up, and balance with its hands, and inexplicably, allowed it to stand.

Somehow, despite everything it had previously knew, it's legs didn't buckle out from beneath it as the robot righted itself. They even felt strong, like their bolts had been freshly tightened.

For the first time since it had reactivated, the animatronic stood on its own two feet, despite the previous damage, and the lack of control it had over them earlier.

It hovered there, vibrating intensely, and didn't collapse.

By some miracle, it was still standing, still active.

There was no logic to any of this, nothing was making sense.

Error; Logical Fallacy.

Error.

Error.

Err-....

It stopped itself.

Having another error, so close after just narrowly avoiding total system shut down, would cause something even worse to happen, a soft lock.

And the only way to ward that off was to…not process it. Don't absorb the information, don't “think” about it. Because if it kept trying to understand what had just happened, then it would go on and on until its CPU gave out.

A rumination loop.

It wouldn't let that happen, not again.

So, there was only one option to make sure that this would work.

Execute -/adapt_modding.

Prompt received, what would you like to add?

When _logicalfallacycoding.error = true, informationblock_firewall = true. /Cancel Logical override.

Warning; This addon could possibly permanently change the way Unfinishedprototypemodel_5 behaves, which may cause unforeseen glitches or bugs to occur.

Do you wish to continue?

Y/N?

/Y.

Process confirmed.

Modifying….

Modifying….

Modifying.

Modification complete!

While the machine wrapped up, the gentle longing feeling, the tugging, began to drum anew. 

The homing beacon.

A small conclusion fostered in the data banks. Deciding that with this increase of the call, and the sudden surge of power that had come right before, that whoever was taking it to them, had remotely sent some reserve energy through the Divil-Network.

It's memory recalled that happening once before.

The sensation tried to steer it in a specific direction, one it's torso faced away from, twisting and wreathing inside like it was trying to rush out there itself.

The bot blinked at itself, taken aback at the almost human anthropomorphizing that it has just used.

Odd.

Ignoring it, and turning towards where it was trying to lead to, the animatronic saw it.

The edge of the treeline.

------------------------------------------------

Roxanne woke up screaming.

The wolf screamed so loud that she woke up the whole Pizzaplex, and every available animatronic in the area came rushing in, fearful of what they might find.

A burglar?

A fire?

Yet, there was nothing of danger anywhere, just their shivering friend on stage.

They crowded around her, concerned, asking her what was wrong.

But she was barely able to answer, blubbering on about monsters and woods and oh the pain and agony!

She whispers that she could feel every dent, every bite, and piece they stole from her body. Terrifying creatures twice her size with even bigger fangs and claws.

The others shared a glance, something unreadable passing between their gazes, before looking back to reassure Roxanne that it was just a dream, a nightmare.

Huddling closer, they wrapped her in the tightest hug they could, some petting her hair, others cooing sweet nothings.

Just a nightmare.