Chapter 1 • ◇ • Minimum Wage

It was eleven-forty-eight in the evening. The pizzeria walls were loosely covered in crudely drawn pictures of the animatronics onstage. The tables were wiped clean of plates, utensils, and of course, food. The animatronics, a yellow chicken, a purple rabbit, and a brown bear, usually used to entertain kids and grown-ups alike, now stood motionless on the stage.

A woman can be seen wiping the last of the dining floor with a mop.

"I swear, I don't get paid enough for this job."

The woman sighed. She had jet black hair that halted at her waist. She wore a bluish-gray button-up jacket and identically colored pants held by a black leather belt. Her face was tired, and there were slight bumps under her eyes caused by sleep deprivation. A name tag was attached on the left side of the jacket, and the pocket on the right had an identification card stuffed inside of it, though it was turned on its backside. Her black sneakers clicked on the black-and-white checker tiles.

She gazed towards the animal-like robots and frowned. She had read the news about the murders, and how they affected the restaurant greatly. According to her manager, the pizzeria will close at the end of the year. She might have to look for another job again. In her honest opinion, she didn't care about the restaurant's dealings, but she needed money.

And so, here she was, wiping the floors clean with a mop. Not the best job, the woman would admit, but she could care less.

The double doors opened. A man entered the restaurant. His skin was a light brown color, and he had slick, short, dark brown hair. He wore the restaurant-issued security jacket and pants, and a security cap covered his head. A flashlight hung itself on a holster.

He saw the woman with a broom in her hands.

"Uh, hello?" the brunet announced, waving his arm a bit, "I'm the new guy?"

The woman turned to him and looked him up and down. She sighed and went back to mopping the floor.

"So you must be the new guy Boss was talking about," she stated, "Welcome to hell."

The man laughed. "I hope you're joking about that!" He gave her a toothy smile.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I wish. You have read the news, right?" The woman raised an eyebrow at him, expecting an answer.

The man noticed this and chuckled. "Ah, yes," he answered, "The terrible smell of the robots. I believe it is because of the collected dirt over the past... twenty years?"

The woman turned to him, obviously looking offended. "Oi. Janitor here. Are you saying I don't do my job? I've been working since morning hours every day, you know. For two years." She frowned at his rather offensive remark, staring at him with a gaze cold enough to freeze an incinerator. He widened his eyes in realization.

"W-Wait, I didn't mean it like that!" the male clarified, "I didn't mean to offend you! Sorry!"

The janitor woman grumbled at his apology, rolling her eyes. "Whatever you say."

The woman walked towards the west hall to return the broom in her hands. But before she passes the doorway, she turned to him.

"Oh, right. Michael, your office is this way," she said.

"Ah, thank you—" He was about to finish his thanks, but then he realized that the woman just mentioned his name. "Wait, Michael? I don't remember telling you my name!"

"Oh, right," she simply said, and pointed to his chest, "The ID attached to your breast pocket says everything." He nervously laughed.

"Hehe, r-right..."

Together, they entered the west hall. They stopped in front of the doorway leading to the supply closet. Michael could only gaze in awe at the uniformity of the closet. The brooms and mops hung on a rack on the wall. The brushes, rags, and cleaning agents were neatly arranged on a table. In a corner, different-colored buckets are stacked in each other.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she said uncommitted after seeing his reaction, "For the record, I'm not a neat freak. I just take my job seriously." Her gaze towards him suddenly became dark and morbid. "You should too if you want to keep this job, albeit short-lived."

He made an amused but rather forced smile. "Why do I feel targeted by that comment?" She sighed.

"Take a wild guess." She hung the broom on an empty hook on the rack. She wiped her hands on her jacket, and they both exited the closet.

"Your office is at the end of the hall. It's eleven-fifty-six currently. You better get going, Michael." The woman turned away and walked towards the dining area.

"W-Wait!"

She stopped mid-route and turned back to him.

"I didn't get your name!" Michael said, slightly nervous, "I gave you my name, so it's fair you give me yours. I would get it off of you, but, ah, you know..."

He pointed at the identification card on her chest, currently facing away from him.

"Ah, right," she said, "About that, I turn my ID over. Don't exactly like anyone stalking me online."

The woman smiled.

"You didn't exactly give me your name, either. Rather, I only read it from your uniform," she pointed, "Anyways, call me Day."

"Day?" The male tilted his head in confusion. "Like... the time? Day?"

"Yup." She nodded. "Mom popped me out at, like, six in the morning. Hence, my name is Day."

"That's crazy," Michael let out, a bit amazed, "Never met anyone named Day before."

"Well, you do now," she said, laughing a bit, "Anyway, see ya in the morning."

The male nodded. "Yeah, see you in the day, Day."

Day snorted. "Heard that one before. Good try, anyway."

She passed the dining area and went towards the exit. Finally, she padlocked the glass doors to keep intruders out. And with one last wave from her, she dashed off. Michael smiled, satisfied with her answer, and went inside his office, looking around.

The room was pretty small, seemingly intended for one person, and was only lit by a single ceiling lamp hanging from the top of the room. The walls were gray with a checkered stripe along the side, covered by more crudely colored kids' drawings and a single poster containing the main stage animatronics with a giant "CELEBRATE!" in white font. There was also a desk pushed against the wall as well, where on top sat a few monitors, a desk fan, a telephone, some trash Day probably forgot to clean up, and a pink cupcake with large eyes.

The sides of the room had doors, and interestingly enough, he heard, they were operated using buttons. Not only that, there were light switches as well, giving light to the sections outside the doors. Wires strung up from the electronic monitors, presumably leading to the security cameras. Under the desk were two drawers, along with a speaker that seemed to be obscured by a spider web. The floor was tiled similar to the other rooms.

It was midnight ante meridiem. The phone started ringing. Just who could be calling the establishment this late at night?

He clicked the auto-answer button anyway, giving the caller a chance to speak.

"H-hello? Hello, hello?"

• ◇ • ◇ • ◇ • ◇ • ◇ •

It was five-fifty-four in the morning. Michael was drenched in sweat from fear, and patches of darkness started to form around his uniform. The doors to his office, currently used as a percussive drum, were sealed shut, and outside were the things dead set out to make sure he doesn't see the light of day.

A purple, rabbit-like robot, Bonnie, started banging on the left door, demanding entry. Meanwhile another animatronic, which was a yellow chicken with a bib named Chica, cornered him on the right. He was trapped, and the only thing between him and the deadly killers are the steel, four-inch-thick doors covered in danger tape.

The desk fan is spinning, providing the scared man with ventilation and cool air. The computer monitor, originally used to track the animatronics' whereabouts, was turned off to save enough electricity. Speaking of such, he looked at the power indicator's percentage.

"Two percent? What the hell?" The banging on the left side stopped. Assuming that the bunny is gone, he opened the door and checked the lights.

"Oh... good... he's gone," he sighed in relief. He opened the monitor, and sure enough, Bonnie is in the dining area. He closed it and focused his attention on the other robot, Chica.

The banging on the right side continued for a minute. Then it stopped. Michael was about to close the door when...

The power went out.

He started hyperventilating. He was panicking. He could hear footsteps coming from the west hall. With every step, his breathing became faster and harder.

A silhouette of a bear appeared on the left door. The eyes and teeth of the bear started flickering on and off. A music box played ominously to the tune of the song from "Carmen". He stared at the scary figure, hands shaking.

"I'm... d-dead..."

Suddenly, a grandfather clock chime echoes through the entire pizzeria. As if they were controlled by some sort of magic, the animatronics returned to the stage and froze, as if nothing has happened.

"W-What...?"

Michael nervously chuckled in relief. He went out of the security office and straight into the sun-lit dining area. The power came back, and the lights went on again.

He was safe. For now.

Day is seen unlocking the glass doors. By her appearance only, Michael breathed a sigh of relief.

"Day!"

She looked at the worn-out man in amusement. Her lips formed a smile of entertainment.

"Looks like you had it rough." Day clapped her hands together. "So! You coming back tonight?" She spoke as if the phenomenon was a normal occurrence.

Michael stared at her. "Y-Yeah. Of course, I am."

Day blinked. "Even with the animatronics running around? You cool with that?"

"What?" He did a double-take. "That happens?"

The janitor girl chuckled. "Yeah, their servos get locked if left off for too long, apparently. Or, at least, that's what the mechanics say."

"For real?" he asked, "Well, that's freaky. Really freaky." The security guard sighed.

"Well, whatever," Day said, cracking her knuckles, "So, thought about resigning?"

Michael chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm not leaving anytime soon."

She raised her eyebrow in surprise and interest. "That's a first. What changed your mind?"

"Well..." He turned to the bear that tried to turn him into stuffing. Freddy Fazbear. The titular character of the pizzeria and the leader of the Fazbear gang.

"This place brings so many childhood memories. These... characters hold a special place in the hearts of children." He turned back to Day. "So that is why I would like to stay here."

Day went silent for a moment. Then she snickered. "What a cheesy answer."

"W-Wh... huh?"

She shook her head, amused. "Your sentiment is dumb. That's what the last guy said."

Michael sighed. "What do you mean, 'that's a first,'?"

"The guys that usually take the night shift usually high-tail it out of here," the janitor explained, "Only the last guy stayed. Heard he went missing."

"Oh... geez..." the guard said.

Day sighed. "Anyways, go home. You need rest. I need to go clean the pool of sweat and pee you probably created in the security office."

"Hey!"

Day giggled. "You better go now."

"Fine."

Michael left the pizzeria doors rather annoyed. Day stared at the male storming off, amused, and sighed.

"I swear, we don't get paid enough for this job."

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END