Chapter Text
The building looks rather intimidating at night when you pull up. The large neon sign with Freddy’s face plastered on the front glowers down at you as you park (out of sight from any parking lot cameras you hope) and scuttle up to the front doors.
Telling yourself your justifications just makes you look stupid standing at the glass doors for five minutes. From the outside, you can see the shutters have rolled closed, but your employee badge should have the authorization to open them. Entering and sliding it through the reader proves your theory right. It’s loud as it rises, and you cringe at the sound, quickly crouching and darting underneath. The shutters rise to the heights, then by pushing a button they fall back down again, closing the entrance behind you.
Well, you’re inside! Officially trespassing! How does it feel to be a criminal?
The inside is dark. Some neon lights from nearby shops and attractions bounce off each other and barely illuminate the way. You pull out your phone and turn on the flashlight, lighting a few feet in front of you. It’s not like it was dark enough that you couldn’t see far enough ahead, but you’d rather not risk tripping over something stupid and having that scene be the evidence used in court when Fazbear entertainment eventually charges you.
But your final exams are no joke, you’ve been slacking on your studies and surely management would be understanding if an employee accidentally left something very expensive and vital behind? Maybe they wouldn’t even know if you were quick enough. Just get in, get the books, get out. And even if you did get caught, maybe the repercussions wouldn’t be too terrible if you just explained yourself. It’s not like you were a stranger, you worked here. That should be enough, right?
You should really find the security guard on shift and make your case before anything else, but all you’re seeing are a couple of security bots rolling around in defined areas. They look pretty focused on their task, flashlight shining in hand, but they aren’t human enough to have the sense to look up from their designated spot and look in your direction, so you should be able to pass by them easily enough.
The Daycare wasn’t too far from the entrance. A solid idea, since it would be smart for parents to drop off their toddlers right away after entering. You didn’t need a daycare pass or anything like that since your employee badge gave you access to practically the entire building, so you bypass the machine for it. Walking quickly, you make your way through the pizzaplex, walking faster past the rooms that house the band animatronics.
Luckily, their curtains are all closed. A thin slit allows you a quick glance on the inside, and you can barely make out a blur of Roxanne in her own space. The rest are shut tight, and Monty’s room is dark as usual. It’s not easy to tell if they’re actually residing in their respective rooms or not, but you’re not going to be brave enough to pull them and check. The last thing you wanted was for the animatronics out of all things to rat you out and get you fired, (or, at least, scold you. Freddy might be nicer but you’re not sure how the others would react if they saw you here outside your shift.)
You’ve just made it past there when a sudden beeping startles you from your thoughts, and a bright flashlight shines directly into your eyes. “What-?”
You cut yourself off, hands raised to protect your eyes from the light. A second passes and it’s lowered, the obnoxious beeping comes to a stop, and you squint into the dark to find the assailant. It’s a security bot, and its blank eyes bore into you with all the unfeeling emotion of a robot that makes your skin crawl. Congratulations. You’ve been here barely five minutes and you’ve already managed to get yourself caught.
A moment passes and you’ve just been staring at each other. There’s no telling if this thing has remotely called the cops or some sort of backup, or if it’s even capable of doing such a thing, but you test your luck and work up a nervous smile at it anyway. “Don’t…call the cops. I just left something super important.” You start off. You wish this thing had eyelids or something so it could at least blink at you, but its gaze doesn’t break and its body doesn’t move. “I, uh...I just need to grab it from the Daycare and then I’m out. Promise.”
You half expect the security bot to apprehend you somehow, or maybe start blaring those loud beeping noises again, but it just stares. It’s very uncomfortable. Then, the bot’s head tilts upwards towards the ceiling and its flashlight follows with it. You follow its line of sight, but there’s nothing above you. There’s nothing but darkness, and you can only hear some gift shop music still playing on low volume somewhere in the pizzaplex, the AC units humming above and the single sound of a faint bell jingling, probably some toy another staff bot rolled over.
Confused, you look back down. Its face remains passive like it was expecting you to react in some sort of way. You don’t think these things can talk outside of their predesignated scripts, though.
For a moment, there is just continued staring before its body rolls 180 degrees to face the opposite direction, the head slowly turning away after and moving off into the dark, flashlight poised and at the ready.
Relief settles in your chest as it rolls out of sight. If that was the staff bot’s way of saying it was ‘turning a cheek’, you weren’t going to argue.
Your luck only lasts for a moment however when you round the corner down another hallway, and you lock eyes on yet another robot. This time; stuffing something greasy and papery into her beak, you gasp in surprise before you can even remember to think quietly. “Chica?”
She gives a startled squawk, muffled by the bits of cardboard, old food, and plastic forks she’s shoved into her mouth. This is certainly not the sight you expected to see of one of the main casts; leaning over a garbage bin with hands full of trash, some smeared on her beak and the shock in her eyes illuminated by your phone flashlight. She too looks equally as stunned and makes out a word after swallowing a crumpled box that should not be possible for a robot. “You-!”
You cut her off with a loud whisper. “W-What are you doing eating trash?!”
The animatronic fumbles with her words for a moment, the sound of metallic coughing that mimicked choking on her food as she drops what she held back into the bin and straightened her posture. “What are you doing here?!” She exclaims, a manicured metal finger pointing in your direction. “The Pizzaplex is closed! You’re not on the schedule to work for the night, you’re not even in your uniform! Your trespassing!”
The two of you stare at each other in silence, her finger remaining pointing at you while your phone’s flashlight illuminated the absolute absurdness of the scenario you’ve found her in. You think she’s maybe going to call for security or tell you to leave, but she looks just as cornered as you do, and the ridiculousness of the situation starts to churn in your brain as you feel nervous laughter bumbling in your chest.
A huff of air escapes through your nose. Chica’s beak twitches, then the both of you burst into a fit of giggles and laughter. “You’re eating TRASH?”
Chica waves her hands in a fidgety fit of bubbled laughter, a crumpled plastic water bottle and part of a pizza box in her grip. “I-It’s an acquired taste!“
You cackle. “CARDBOARD?”
“I was hungry!”
You fight to keep your giggles to a low volume and take a deep breath. The lightheartedness was a welcome relief after the anxiety that comes with being caught not once but twice in the last five minutes, and it’s nice to have a moment of joy, even if it comes from the realization that the two of you now found each other in rather compromising situations. “Okay! Okay, jus-” You clear your throat, steading your flashlight and try to appear professional. It doesn’t work, a wavy smile still on your face, one that Chica mimics. “One question: Why?”
“Don’t you pretend you’re not being weird too!” Chica points the water bottle at you with a snicker in her accusation, and you swallow the chuckle in your throat. “You’re not even supposed to be here! What’s with all the sneaking around, hmm?”
She’s got you beat there. You take a deep breathe, and Chica waits patiently for you to explain yourself. (Her eyes dart to the garbage bin like she was eager to get back to her meal, though, and you try not to point it out for her own embarrassment’s sake. You raise your free hand in a mockery of surrender. “Okay, before you call security, hear me out-”
“Very illegal,” Chica adds on, with a slight hum to her voice. She was teasing you. “I’m like, totally supposed to report you. Freddy would be so disappointed.”
“I know! I know, just-I left my textbooks here, okay?” You explain, watching as the animatronics’ head tilts to the side. Before she can ask, you continue. “It can’t wait until my next shift. My finals start tomorrow and I haven’t been studying like I was supposed to. I really to get them back tonight.” You put your hands together in a praying motion and comically plead for discretion. “Don’t tell anyone? Please? I’ll be super grateful.”
Chica’s hands settle on her hips, trying to look imposing. It doesn’t work with the smile in her beak. “Uh-huh.”
“Like, super-duper grateful.”
“Sure.”
“A whole pizza’s worth of grateful...with extra cheese...and marinara sauce.”
“HA! I eat pizza all the time. Bad bribe.” She scoffs, waving the offer away. Her eyes glance to the trash bin for a moment, then to you, and a quiet flush of embarrassment seeps into her voice. “But…promise you won’t tell the others about this little habit of mine and we’ll call it even. Deal?” She raises a finger up to her beak in a mock of hush. “I won’t snitch on you if you won’t snitch on me.”
You’re not even sure if the others would be interested in Chica’s trash-eating passion considering all of their own quirks, (Save for Freddy, because Mr. Fazbear himself seemed to be perfectly engineered) but you nod at her offer regardless. “Deal.”
She looks as equally relieved to your answer as you feel, judging by how her hand sneaks back to grab the pizza box she previously dropped and starts to tear it into bite-sized pieces. So the Chicken animatronic liked to eat garbage? You wondered if it was a feature implemented to help get rid of waste in the Pizzaplex, but you’re not insensitive enough to ask her about it, rather directing the conversation elsewhere.
“I thought you guys were supposed to stay in your rooms at this time. What are you doing outside, anyway? You know, besides the whole-” You gesture to the garbage bin and Chica looks at you a little uncertain like you’re about to steal her ‘food’. “-a three-course meal you’ve got going on here.”
“Security Patrols.” She answers. She’s chewing on bits of cardboard as she speaks, so her voice is muffled by soft box crunching. “I mean, we’re not really the security bots, but we can call it that if we want some time around to roam instead of being cooped up in our rooms all the time.” She stuffs the rest down her throat. Well, whatever the robot equivalent of a throat was. You’re starting to get a better idea of why Chica’s room is always so trashed and filled with gunk every time you’ve had to go clean it.
“Right, I was actually thinking about going up to the office and talking to whoever is on security shift for the night.” You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. You’ve since lowered your flashlight so as to annoy her, but you can still see her expression tilt in confusion at your sentence. “So I can explain myself. I can’t really hide from some of these cameras so…it’s worth a shot? I don’t want to get written up, or fired. Or, you know, arrested-”
“Oh, we haven’t had a human security officer in years.” Chica stuffs an old can into her beak and crushes it with slightly shocking strength. If she sensed your confusion, she doesn’t say anything about it. “They have all these staff security bots instead. Saves money and all that. I think they have a designated animatronic for handling intruders anyway.” She winks at you. “I’m still totally breaking protocol by not reporting you, by the way.”
“…And I’m forever in your debt.” You smile at her teasing, but the worries about what she just confirmed run through your head. “But, the others-”
“-will recognize you.” She interrupts. Chica’s voice is naturally cheerful, and oddly reassuring. “I don’t think anyone else from the band is on security duty tonight, but if you get caught just explain what happened! They’ll understand.” She waves her hand, then stops and thinks for a moment. “…Freddy might be upset and give you a scolding. And Roxy and Monty probably won't be nice but they won’t hurt you or anything. Might make fun of you though.“
You snort. “Comforting.”
Chica grins at you. She’s scooping copious amounts of garbage into her arms. “I’d hurry if I were you. You’re still an intruder right now, you know.”
You don’t have to be told twice. You depart from her with a wave and a brisk walk towards what you think is the shortest route to the Daycare. You’re pretty sure she’s planning on taking all of that garbage straight to her room, meaning no you’ll be cleaning the residue the next day. No matter. You get paid well anyways.
God, you hope your textbooks were okay. You had left them on the security desk, so no kids throughout the day should have been over there and able to mess with them anyway, but you wouldn’t put it past kids. On the off chance that something did happen to them, you hope it was something repairable, or at least readable. You can handle crayons and boogers on the pages, but if you find out that some snot nosed twerp ripped out the pages to make origami you just might lose it a little bit.
Hopefully, Sun realized you had left them behind and kept them hidden if he even took notice of them at all. Actually, you wouldn’t mind talking to him again while you were here, maybe apologize for leaving so abruptly last shift. He might be upset if you think about it since you were trespassing. He seemed like a real stickler for the rules, but maybe he’ll forgive you just this once if you just-
Something touches your shoulder.
You jump, spinning around and shining your phone’s light behind you. Nothing but empty space greets you as you blink in confusion, glancing around for whatever it might have been. “Chica?”
No answer. Your voice echoes off of the walls a little too loudly for your liking. There’s a crawling feeling in your spine but you ignore it. You were tired and tied with anxieties, mainly because you were somewhere you really weren’t supposed to be. Shrugging the feeling off, you turn back towards the way to the Daycare-
Just to feel something touch your opposite shoulder again. A little quicker this time, you swing around, just to find empty darkness. A Roxanne cut-out stands on the opposite end of the room from you, but you highly doubt she could have been the culprit. Still, Chica’s warning rings in your head and you briefly wonder if someone was playing a trick on you, or if you were just losing your mind. With a sour face, you turn back towards your path and take a few steps-
A touch on your shoulder again. You swivel around, stunned and confused that the empty space is behind you but before you can even start to feel angry about it, another touch on the opposite shoulder. You swing around to shine light on that too, then another on the opposite side, then on your back, then your arm, and something barely gracing the back of your ear until you call out in frustration that you’ve been essentially rotating in a circle looking for the culprit. “C’mon, guys, this isn’t funny!”
A wet floor sign slightly turns to look at you in what you assume is pity (great, now the wet floor signs are judging you) as a tap on your shoulder grabs your attention and this time you turn around swinging. Your fist meets air and you stumble forwards a bit from the momentum, cursing under your breath. “Fucking hell.”
Low laughter.
It comes from above you. Your neck cranes back to peer into the ceiling, your phone coming just in time to see a blur disappear from the neon lights and the light beam’s reach to disappear into the darkness among the rafters. You hear the faint sound of jingling bells.
…Huh. You have a sneaking suspicion of who that could have been. But you don’t have any solid proof.
Jerk.
You’re not sticking around for introductions, this plan was starting to stretch out the longer you’re staying here and you didn’t want to be accused of thievery or vandalism, so you ignore the feeling of eyes trailing your every movement and make a rather (funny looking) brisk walk to the daycare. Something was stalking you. Toying with you, even. But if it was as harmless as just trying to a rise out of you with childish behavior, then that’s a problem for you to deal with while you’re on the clock, not when you’ve got a couple of hours after this to study for your finale with the textbook that’s still sitting on the Daycare’s security desk.
There are no security bots around the Daycare’s entrance when you arrive and you’re stunned to see the doors are wide open. It’s pitch black inside, darker than the rest of the pizzaplex considering there’s no neons within the structure. The security desk isn’t far from the door, so you don’t bother to turn on the light as you make your way to it. Oddly enough, it’s not moved from its spot, and you’re relieved some kid didn’t snatch it for a replacement for coloring pages.
For politeness’s sake, you call out to the darkness. “Hey, Sun-!” You pause. “Or whoever...I’m just grabbing my textbook.” You watch the darkness for any movement and find yourself somewhat disappointed when there isn't any. You had no idea where the Daycare Attendant would be, but you can’t linger here. You’d have a chance to see him again after your exams.
Just as you’re about to grab it and go something catches your eye. The pages are lifted like something was stuck within the book. You shine your phone’s light across the desk and see the highlighters that Sun had given to you strewn about, some with the caps still off. Curious, you open the cover. A highlighter cap falls out of the bind where it was holding its place, and you look to the pages.
There are doodles across the texts (RIP to the idea of returning your textbook later for your deposit). You position your phone right over the page, squinting at the color popping off the text. On the inside, there is a doodle of Sun, lanky and happy-faced, holding hands with what looked like a detailed scribble of you. There is fake grass and clouds scribbled in the background. It’s not particularly artistic but it’s heartwarming, like a child’s gift. You can barely read the article it’s been doodled on, but it’s probably something you’ve already memorized.
A smile forms on your face and you turn the page. It’s the same, but you are drawn lying on a pillow sound asleep. (you hope its sleeping) with the background completely penciled black. Only a crude, crescent smiling moon hangs above the doodled you within the blackness that blots out the text.
“Rulebreaker.” A voice low and full of mischief whispers behind you. Something cold wraps around the back of your neck and you freeze as fingers coil to the front of your throat. “It’s past your bedtime.”
Oh, fuck no.
Fueled by fight or flight instinct, the grip around your textbook tightens and you swing it around as hard as you can, the cover impacting with something metal, and sending its face tilling upwards as the grip around your neck loosens and you fall back against the desk as the thing falls one, two steps away from you, clutching its face. A guttural, glitching sound comes from it as you fumble with your phone, finally positioning the light to shine directly on the assailant as its eyes roll continuously from the impact before stilling, red pinpricks in a sea of black zeroing in on your fearful expression.
The Moon’s head tilts to an unnatural angle, his smile stretching. “Naughty brat.”
The light!
You needed to get to turn on the light!
You lunge for the switch, (or at least, where you hope the switch is in this lowlight) and feel something like it’s shape underneath the palm of your hand right as something larger wraps around your wrist, enveloping your hand completely and squeezing. You let out a cry of pain and hit at the metal hand wrapped around it with the blunt of your phone. The grip doesn’t budge, and Moon’s hisses sound like amusement, his head rotating as he uses his grip to pull you inwards. “Keep your hands to yourself in the Daycare.”
You shine your phone’s light directly into his eyes, ripping yourself away from him as he hisses and coils back. “Fuck off!”
“Language!” The Moon’s head shakes in pain, frenzied and you waste no time in running even as a metal hand juts blindly out, blocking your exit. You stumble backwards to avoid his grab and take off in the opposite direction, deeper into the daycare and listen for the sound of increasing agitation behind you as the animatronic recovers. “Naughty Rulebreaker! naughty, naughty-”
You nearly trip over some toddler chairs as you try to dart out a view. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!“
You regret speaking as soon as the words leave your mouth. The sound of metal clicking and tap of slippers rapidly moving disappear, and you’re given a two-second warning of abysmal giggling before a crooked hand grabs the hood of your jacket and suddenly your feet are leaving the ground, kicking the air as you grab fruitlessly at the hands hoisting you up.
“It’s past your bedtime.” Moon repeats harsher now, sharp-toothed smile never leaving as you struggle in his grip. “Trespasser. Rulebreaker. I’m putting you in TIME OUT-!”
You kick up at him, and your foot makes contact with something metal. It’s not an immediate drop, but it messes with the balance of his wire, and the cloth in his hands slips. You fall maybe two feet to the floor with an uncomfortable ‘oof’ and don’t waste any time to be grateful it wasn’t any higher, scrambling away on hands and knees and looking for somewhere he couldn’t possibly get into because of course you forgot that this fucker could fly.
To your side is a tunnel meant to go into the play jungle. Barely big enough to fit you, most likely too small to house the Daycare Attendant. Memories flash back to Sun’s uncomfortable and nearly stuck form in a tunnel bigger than this, and a theory shares that Moon would have the same problem. You figure this might as well be a temporary hiding place, but you had to act quickly.
You dive into the tunnel just in time for Moon to land somewhere behind you, bells jingling and a soft, low voice making out sounds that you cannot decipher. You cannot see him, not while you’re squished inside this plastic tube meant for children, but adrenaline rushing through your veins picks out every metal swivel of his body and the soft steps of slippers against the playmat outside. You turn off your phone’s flashlight, cover your hand over your mouth to prevent any noise, and try to quieten your breathing.
You hold your breath as footsteps lightly sound just outside your tunnel entrance. Left foot, then right foot, like how Sun used to dance when playing peek-a-boo, and you fear Moon’s face will pop up just the same.
…Then, they drift away, with Moon’s voice echoing throughout the Daycare. “Hidey, hide away…”
You did NOT sign up for this shit.
You signed up to clean messes, occasionally fix problems, and do labor work that robots were either too busy or unable to properly do. You didn’t sign up to be hunted down by a robot jester who was ill-intent on putting you in ‘time-out’ like you’ve done something wrong. (Well, you technically have, Trespasser. But this is far over the line.) All you wanted were your textbooks, but now you’re sitting in a plastic tube in pitch darkness while something inhuman is searching for you to do god-knows-what.
Carefully, you remove your hand from your mouth and try to adjust your eyes to the dark. You can barely see anything, and it’s too much of a risk to use your phone to light the way, so you were blind here. Great. You’re fairly certain the ‘nap-time’ protocol isn’t supposed to be this severe, and you’re not sure what ‘punishment’ Moon has planned but you’re not sticking around to find out. You had to escape.
Feeling around (quietly, softly so as to not make any noise) you find the upper entrance of the tube and push yourself out. The grated plastic jungle is big enough to hold an adult, though you still have to crane your head low and feel cramped as you feel along the wall and listen for any sounds of-
“Come out.” Moon’s voice is distant, but getting closer. He has a strange tone. Subdued, but something like a chuckle at the edge of his words. “Come out. Come out.”
No one gave you any warning for something like this, and yet, suddenly all those waivers you had to sign at the start of your employment were starting to make sense. The puzzle pieces one by one started to fit together, and you remember the rule Sun had about keeping the lights on in what you assumed was a fear of the dark or childish jealousy.
Now you understood exactly why Sun didn’t want you anywhere near him in the dark.
Something is skittering across the plastic. You look down and see red pinpricks move slowly across the under portion of the jungle gym you were in as the sounds of a metal body moving through the plastic grid. It hasn’t turned up to spot you yet, and you manage to hold your breath as he passes (unless he could hear your heartbeat racing, then you were fucking screwed) and count the seconds, two, three before palming against the grid and moving slowly across the gym.
You needed a quick escape. Finding a tunnel with an exit facing the Daycare’s entrance was going to be your best bet. Making a beeline for the Pizzaplex’s doors was going to be another challenge entirely. That thing had been following you this entire time, and you were stupid enough not to worry about it until he had his literal hand around your neck.
Your thoughts race as you fumble through the plastic gym with a thudding pulse and sweaty hands. What was the point? Why wait until you were in the Daycare when he could have snatched you at any time? What is his end goal?
“Come out.” A chuckle. The sounds of wire spinning and metal on plastic as he moves in the dark. “Come here. It’s comfortable, come here.”
(Forget anxiety. Who programmed ‘enjoyment of the hunt’ into the robot?)
You listen as the small sounds and chuckles grow more distant, watching as the two red dots move about the gym as Moon crawls through the tunnels, disappearing into one end and appearing through another. You try to mimic it, moving to the opposite side of where he was traveling in the hopes you’d eventually find yourself on the opposite end and facing the exit. Your knees bump painfully and your neck was starting to hurt from how tightly squeezed you were in the jungle gym, but so far the method seemed to be working.
Eventually, your palm hits a raised edge, and you pat down the area in front of you to feel it sloped. A tunnel leading downwards, and judging by the feel it’s nearly as small as the one you initially climbed in. If you were quiet enough, you could slide down and make a run for it while he still had to exit the plastic jungle.
You look over your shoulder to check his location and freeze. Two pinpricks of red glower up at you from below, locking eyes with you as you go still, a click, click. clicking sound of metal fingertips tapping against the playmat. Do not move. Do not make a sound.
You hear the animatronics’ head swivel once, twice. Then the red dots turn away and Moon continues to scutter off towards what you think is an opposite exit from the jungle gym. “Come out, naughty, naughty…”
He can’t see you. It’s too dark, too far away, and you’re too still and he can’t see you. You hold back the breath of relief in your lungs and hope to save it until you’re in the clear. You’re not going to push what little luck you have left. Carefully pulling yourself into the tunnel, you slide down the plastic just a few inches. You’re about halfway down, quiet as a mouse, inwardly mourning the fact that you’re more than likely going to have to leave your textbook when another sound stops you in your tracks.
The sound of faint bells rings closer and closer until it comes to a stop outside of the very tunnel you’ve settled yourself in, and a low chuckle emits at the entrance. “Psssp Pssp Pssp Pssp. Come hereee...”
Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding-
“Pssp Pssp Pssp Pssp.” Comically, you can’t see him, but he fixes that. He’s crouching just outside the tunnel’s exit, wide smile with teeth that look way too sharp to be allowed on a Daycare animatronic, wide black eyes and red pupils zeroed on you as his face plate leans just inside the tunnel’s entrance, a hand coming up and crooked towards you, held out like an offering. “Pssp Pssp Pssp. Come…come…”
How did he-?
Infrared vision.
Right. You forgot about that part. Stupid.
In a flurry of a second, you scramble back up the tunnel in a pathetic display of limbs climbing pitifully against plastic. Before you’re away, a hand clamps down on your leg hard.
You’re unceremoniously yanked further (the dragging friction hurts against your back, your fingernails scrape the sides as you go down) as Moon’s laughter increases, crawling inside the tunnel himself, back scraping the ceiling, limbs twisted and tearing off the plastic paint, bent at angles that make you think of spiders and demons in old movies as he barely fits inside, giggling with abhorrent joy at you beneath him.
His face is inches from your own and you see nothing but nightmares, a sharp smile and the claustrophobia that comes from his fingers bending towards you. In the face of your fear, the Moon laughs. “It’s past your bedtime. Goodnight.”
In a split second, you do the only thing you can think of; pushing your hands in between the two of you and forming a referee’s T’s shape in the front while your voice cracks when you call out. “Time out! Time out! Time out!”
Yep. That’s your whole survival plan. You’re a goner. Eyes shut tight, you wait for whatever ‘punishment’ awaits you and hope to whatever’s out there that it’s at least something quick.
...
Nothing happens.
You peak open one eye, then the other, still with a face full of a wide grin but the animatronic above you seems to have stopped in time. Fingers stay poised near your neck, twitching but not touching the skin. The smile the Moon has never left but it seems different somehow, unhappy almost, and you realize with bated breath as his head tilts ever so slightly as he watches you process that the robot was showing restraint for some reason. Waiting. Listening.
Holy shit. Did that actually work?
You’re not sure what to do. You didn’t think you’d get this far. But judging by the flex of growing impatience in the robot’s fingers, you needed to think of something quick. “Okay, okay, hear me out!” You talk fast in a whisper-yell, your voice reverbing off the tunnel walls and bouncing back at you from the Moon’s proximity. “…I don’t have a bedtime-“
The Moon makes a noise of disgruntled disagreement, his hands move in the corner of your eye and you press your back further into the plastic as if it’s going to put any distance in between the two of you. “Hold on! Just-...Listen. Bedtimes are for children. I am not a child.” You place your hands on your chest to emphasize your point, nervous laughter boiling in your throat. “I am an adult! That goes to college...and with a job…here. I work here, you know. I’m a grown adult, I don’t need a bedtime-”
“It’s against the rules.” The Moon whispers low and vile. He sounds unhappy to even be entertaining this. “You should be sleeping-”
“Okay, but! Figure this-” You interrupt him with the guise of a lighthearted argument, and the animatronic looks like it’s a second away from snarling at you. In a bout of nervousness in the face of death, you finger gun at him. “They don’t apply to me-”
The Moon sneers. “Liar.”
“I work here!” You add quickly. You’re scrunched up as far as you can be, the weight of his legs digging into your sides as you attempted confidence. “I work here, so I get to make the rules! And you-” You watch as the Moon’s body stills, all fidgets and movements pausing as he encased you like a statue, his face morphing slowly as his smile begins to fall. “You don’t make the rules do you?”
“You...” His expression is faltering. He looks confused. “…Need to sleep-”
“And I will.” For once, your voice manages to sound assured. Despite that, you’re edging yourself downwards underneath him, slowly trying to slide your way to the exit inch by inch. “I’m just going to grab my stuff, leave, and then I’m gonna go home and sleep in my own bed and you won’t have to deal with me any longer. Sound good? Sound peachy?”
The silence that accompanies afterward is about as nerve wracking as the action beforehand. You pause in your attempts to slide down more out of frozen creeping fear rather than the realization that his body pretty much blocked the escape anyways. For a moment, there is nothing but red staring back at you in the darkness of the tunnel, the feeling of a nightcap hanging down and brushing the side of your face. The Moon’s eye twitches, and you think oh god, it didn’t work-
Then, he moves. Just as quickly as he enters, (and loudly, back scraping against plastic, gangly limbs too big for a space like this) Moon crawls backwards in a second until he’s situated outside the tunnel. You barely get a moment of relief to enjoy your newly restored personal space when a hand wraps around your ankle and you are pulled downwards once more.
Your behind hits the playmat, sitting plainly outside the jungle gym now, with the open doors of the Daycare only a few distances away. You don’t move for a moment out of fear, anticipation, but watch as the red dots in his eyes step back a few feet and rest on you.
You can hardly see anything still. In a moment of careful thinking, you fumble for your phone in your pocket as you work to stand. (carefully, slowly, your knees and back hurt from that time spent in such a cramped space). You don’t turn the flashlight on, feeling it would be too bright, too revealing, and instead tap on the screen and turn it towards the Daycare attendant.
Moon stands to his full intimidating height with a straight posture and an unreadable expression. “Go.”
You’re not going to argue. “Yeah, yeah I’m…I’m doing that just…let me grab my things.” Mindful of any tripping hazards, you keep your eyes on him as you walk towards the dark shape that you think is your textbook laying dejected on the floor. His eyes follow you, head turning slowly. His head tilts when you almost stumble into a tower of what looks like stacked toy boxes because you’re too focused on making sure he stays in that one spot rather than looking where you’re going.
“We’re all fine here, right?” You palm for your textbook on the ground, finding it, and holding it close. If anything, you could use it as a weapon again. “We’re good now, right?”
There is no answer, rather Moon just continues to stare at you with a blank expression. (Seriously, you were considering filing a report that all the robots were displaying some sort of staring problem.)
Phone flashlight turned on, you back towards the doorway. “Okay. Cool. Thanks. Uh,” You pass the security desk, pass the doorframe, and ease into the room outside of the Daycare’s entrance. The light from your phone does not reach the thing watching you within the dark, and in the back of your mind, you’re waiting for it to lunge. “…Goodnight?”
His head clicks once, tilted to the side. Almost like he’s...confused?
Then, a glint of metal barely visible in the dark catches your eye as it falls from the ceiling. Never breaking eye contact, the wire hooks to the Daycare Attendant’s back and you watch as the Moon rises into the dark.
Fuck that. You’re not waiting to see if that thing changes his mind. You turn on your heel and bolt towards the shortest route to the exit you can remember. “Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit-”
You probably look ridiculous and a couple of odd looks from the staff and security bots you pass seem to support that theory, but they’re just a bunch of blurs in your outside vision anyways. You’re lucky there are no Glamrocks on your route out, you don’t think you would have had the energy nor the patience to explain outside a mumbo jumbo of needing to leave. When you do get to the front doors, you curse at the shutters, rapidly scanning your badge and cursing.
As soon as the shutters are raised high enough, you duck under, ignoring the feeling of being watched even when you accidentally konk your head against the metal before shutting the entrance behind you.
You don’t go into work the next day. In your defense, you already messaged management about needing some time off to take care of finales, so it wasn’t like you were running from anything. (Except, you totally kinda were.)
You don’t think you did well on your exam.
Any of them, actually. Most of your studying that night is plagued with intrusive thoughts of darkness, tight spaces, and a smile that’s too close for comfort. There’s also a strange sense of guilt in there, too. The Daycare Attendant was friendly, kind, and an anxious being who hid from you because it thought it made you mad and brought you highlighters to help you study. The Daycare Attendant also was a being that hunted you down in the dark of night insistent that you go to sleep, though you still weren’t entirely sure what that meant.
You can’t explain it, but you think of Sun in that body. The one that housed the both of hi, er, them? It? Was it two animatronics in one shell? Two consciousness? Was that even possible in a sentient code, if these things were even as sentient as you gave them credit for. They were aware of each other, there’s that much at least, and judging by Sun’s behavior, he was familiar all too well that Moon behaved like that.
Your hand is sore and bruised from where he grabbed it, and you have a scratch on your back you didn’t notice until you got home, probably just a scrape from being dragged down the plastic tunnel, but a tiny reminder that no, that wasn’t a nightmare, and you really did hide for your life from a Daycare animatronic until you somehow negotiated your way out of danger.
Your exams go by fairly quickly, but with little faith that you’re going to get as good a grade as you wanted. You don’t return to work for another night after that, making it a total of two after the incident when you get an email stating you were scheduled to come in an hour before closing the next night to help tidy up some messes and fix a few issues that occurred while you were busy taking your exams. There is nothing stating anything about you being detected on the pizzaplex’s cameras, nor are there any reports of staff bots or the animatronics reporting you. Besides listing a total of what tasks needed to be done, the management makes a small note at the bottom wishing you luck on the results of your exams.
You briefly, keyword briefly, consider putting in your resignation. But in this economy? You weren’t going to find a job much better…and not with such interesting coworkers to boot. As scary as it was, it piqued your interest.
You clock in an hour until closing with a weary look and a shielded demeanor. Families are leaving as you enter, and by this time of the evening most if not all the children would have been picked up by the Daycare by now. Sun probably seeing them all off with a smile and happy wave per usual, something you haven’t seen in two days, and it feels like a pit of something heavy weighing on your chest.
You didn’t know how to face him. You didn’t know if you could, so you busy yourself with all the other tasks and leave the Daycare’s mess as the last item to do on your to-do list because you don’t know how to else to stall it.
The tasks are mundane and the minutes go by quickly. You barely register the overhead intercom announcing the pizzaplex’s closure as you’re scrapping bubble gum off of cafeteria tables and arcade dashboards. Working with a bruised hand isn’t as bad as you’d imagine as long as you bit your cheek and didn’t think about it. You’d need to soak it in hot water later to ease the soreness, but it wasn’t as bad as you’d initially thought after the pain kicked in the first night. Adrenaline can do that to a person.
It’s an hour past closing and you’re taking out some of the trash bins, (you briefly consider if Chica would prefer you dumb the bags off in her room than take them to the dumpster, and make a mental note to ask her about it later) when your back bump up against something hard, and you struggle to move the heavy bag forward so you can turn around and apologize to the unfortunate staff bot you’ve probably almost knocked over. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to…”
It’s not a staff bot, but a rather tall alligator animatronic. Sunglasses peer down at you with the lips of his snout pulled up into an almost permanent scowl. You’re not sure why he’s here in the first place, but you’re not going to interrogate the 6’2 robot that looks like he’d rather squash you than be tolerating your presence. Regardless, you smile. “Hi, Monty.”
His frown doesn’t change. “Watch it, runt.”
Okay, rude.
Nevermind politeness. You were going to be annoying on purpose. You deserve it after all the stress you’ve been through.
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” You start off, turning back to the trash bins so the robot can’t see the inching grin on your face. “Didn’t realize your sunglasses were so tinted you couldn’t see me from up here. I’ll be sure to yell really loudly when I’m backing up so everyone knows I’m coming.” Just for show, you make robotic noises as you pull the second bag from the bin and move to toss it in the cart. “Beep. Beep. Bee-”
Monty makes a noise akin to a growl, and suddenly the trash bag is ripped from your hands and tossed into the cart. You flinch at the motion, inwardly sighing as his claws made mini-rips in the plastic, and soda or whatever fluid starts to drip down into the cart’s bottom where you know you’ll have to clean it up later. “Shut your trap and do your job properly before you get sent down the trash chute instead of these bags.”
Yikes. You knew the alligator was infamous for his anger issues, but Freddy wasn’t lying when he said he could be a little intense. Fazbear entertainment had a knack for creating very…believable characters. You blow a huff of air out of your nose in a semblance of a sigh and grin back up at the sneering alligator, one hand coming up to your forehead in a mock salute. “Yes, sir, alligator!”
To your inner delight, Monty’s snout wrinkles at your rhyme with displeasure, eyes darting to your hand. Like a soldier on a mission, you turn on your heel and start to wheel the cart back down the hallway to create some distance when the animatronic calls out again. “The hell happened to your hand?”
You pause and turn back to face him. Monty’s arms are crossed, face locked in his usual frown but his gaze darts to your hand, the one you saluted with seconds earlier, and back up to you. The bruise is healing nicely, but it’s still a sore sight. Honestly, you didn’t think anyone outside of maybe Freddy or Chica would ask, so you’re a bit surprised to see Montgomery Gator himself take the time out of his day to so much as acknowledge it. You can just blink dumbly as impatience grows on his expression.
“Hmm, yeah, about that…” You mentally scratch your head and decide it’s probably best not to talk badly of an animatronic to another animatronic, regardless even if they were in the wrong. “I got into a fight with a cleaning cart.” A smile, holding up the hand with a thumbs up. It’s only a half lie. You weren’t exactly known for having a good relationship with that deathtrap on wheels. “I won, by the way. In case you couldn’t tell.”
To your surprise, Monty blows out air through his snout the same way someone looks at something funny but not enough to laugh. Huh, you didn’t know animatronics could pretend to breathe. “Right.” The animatronic turns from you, walking off. “Scam, kid. You’re tracking soda all over the carpet.”
You look back to the cleaning cart, sighing when you see liquid dribbling down the side of the cart and onto the floor. Yet another task you needed to clean up.
By the time you’ve mopped up, scrapped every rubbery goop off of tables, cleaned out every bin, fixed the door hinges to the photo booth in the main lobby, and replaced the toilet paper rolls in the family bathrooms, there’s nothing else can reasonably think of doing next aside from the last task that situated you at the Daycare. Specifically; right outside of it.
A couple of kids had the absolutely brilliant idea of stuffing the colorful plastic balls from the ball pit into their clothing and running around like that looking like deformed little marshmallows until their parents came to pick them up, to which they happily expelled the balls from their person and let them bounce on the floor in a mess because kids just didn’t care whether or not they were in the proper place, and apparently the parents were happy to leave the cleanup after their little devils to the staff. According to the note, Sun either cannot (or will not) leave the Daycare boundaries, so the plastic balls that rolled out of the entrance were your responsibility to pick up and toss back into the ball pit.
When you arrive at the Daycare’s doors, you see the area around the doors littered with tiny little balls, some stuck underneath the chairs of the cafeteria seating while others sitting near a couple of cutouts of the Glamrock band members. Nothing you can’t pick up within five minutes, save for a few trips here and there because you left your cleaning cart back in the janitorial closet.
There was one issue though. The light in the surrounding area was brightly lit for you to work without an issue, but the Daycare’s doors were open and there was nothing but darkness inside. The lights were off, and though the switch was right next to the entrance, you didn’t want to take a chance. You can just…kick the balls in there, right? Maybe throw them? You’re not sure what direction the ball pit was but you’re sure if you manage to just roll the leftovers into their proper room than management wouldn’t mind calling that an easy task done.
Before anything, you call out to the darkness. “Moon?”
Silence answers you, and walking around the glass to search for red and blue only sends your reflection peering back at you.
Maybe he didn’t want to speak to you, or was completely uninterested in you all together now that you’ve essentially escaped his clutches the first time. Maybe high away in that hidey-hole with the balcony, if you were lucky. You’re not complaining.
Turning away, you work to collect the plastic balls one by one. You use your shirt to hold a bunch before depositing them in front of the doorway, right in the frame and at the light’s reach as it floods into the Daycare before disappearing entirely. You repeat the process until all the plastic balls you can find are set up in a small pile by the door. You stand there with your hands on your hips, looking into the darkness, and debate your options.
Yeah, you’re not going in there. Picking up a ball, you lightly toss it inside and watch as it soars into the darkness. You hear it make a tiny ‘clunk’ noise as it hits something plastic and snort. “Score.”
You do it again with another, then another. The second and third ones just plop somewhere on top of the playmat, the fourth and sixth one sounds like they land perfectly inside the ball pit, and the seventh hits something metal when you throw it with a little more enthusiasm. It’s kinda like pitching baseball for stress relief, except your throwing harmless colorful balls into the abyss and listening for the sound of impact. “A few down, a few more to go…”
As you wind your arm back to throw another, a shape appears within the dark, and you panic throw it towards him in surprise. “Shit-!”
Moon catches the ball in one hand effortlessly. His eyes dart to the plastic ball in his grip, then to you, expression unreadable.
For a moment, fear seizes you. You need to run, hide, but part of you wants to start yelling and be angry, demand answers for his behavior, but for a solid moment you are unmoving as the animatronic drops the ball and lets it roll away into the Daycare, red eyes darting to the small pile sitting beside you.
The Moon watches as you recompose yourself, and you watch as he looks dully to the floor. The light that floods in from the room you’re in reaches only a certain point in the Daycare, and Moon was standing at the edge of it. Not in the light fully, just enough to barely illuminate his face, but still on the edge of darkness where he stands isolated. The realization comes to you; he can’t get from there, and he looked pretty damn unhappy about it.
“It’s late.” Moon speaks. His eyes are different. What was black is all red now, white pupils locking with yours.
The initial shock passes, your shoulders lower and your heartbeat steadies as you look to the figurative line in the floor where Moon cannot pass. “You can’t…get me from there, can you?” You ask.
Moon looks unamused.
You start to feel triumphant anyway. “You can’t come into the light, yeah, because you’ll-you’ll turn into sun and then-” Your volume increases as you snicker. “Oh my god, that’s right! You’re trapped. You can’t come into the light because you’ll transform if you do, god! I forgot! For a moment there I really-” You trail off, voice turning into snickers as you grin at the animatronic who looks like it’s slowly starting to seethe in his spot. “What? What’s wrong? Frustrated? Come get me! Come get me, you won’t!”
(Maybe it was a terrible idea to antagonize the animatronic that looks like it could twist off your head until it popped off like a bottle cap, but damn if the feeling wasn’t so good.)
His head does a full rotation, his shoulders tensing up to your taunts but still the animatronic does not move into the light. There is quiet anger in his voice. “Hush.”
“What’s wrong, Starboy? Scared to step into the light?” You taunt, picking up another plastic ball and chucking it at him. Moon hardly moves his head to the side a few inches and it soars right past him into the dark. He doesn’t even have to dodge that one, your aim is just bad. “How’s TIME-OUT working for ya?”
His smile looks strained and there’s a twitch in his eye. He looks like he’s regrets not getting you the first time. “Play nice, Brat.”
You scoff. “Yeah, no. I’m not gonna ‘play nice’ with some jerk that hunted me for sport.” You reach down for another ball, find the air lacking and look to see you were down to just one. You’ll save it, picking up and tossing it in your hand with a mocking grin. “I was going to ask why you’re not a public animatronic anymore but I think I can see why now. I can’t even tell if you wanted to put me to bed or put me to sleep-”
“Sleep.” Moon interrupts.
“Permanently?” You add on. The Moon’s face doesn’t change, his head slowly tilting to an angle, and you can’t tell if it’s in confusion or confirmation. His eyes dart to the ball you're holding, or really, the bruise that decorates your hand before returning the gaze to your face. You greet it by sticking your tongue out. “Asshole.”
“Bad language,” He hisses. “Is NOT allowed in the Daycare.”
“Well, I’m not in the Daycare right now, am I?”
The grin on his faceplate stretches, eyes darting to the floor then back up to you. At his side, his hands raise towards you. “Come here.”
“No thanks.” Just to spite him, you sit down on the floor cross-legged, throwing the ball up and down in one hand and resting your cheek in the other. “I don’t trust you, even if you did catch me that one time.” You pause for a moment. Moon’s gaze narrows as you mirrored it right back. “I’m pretty sure you did. I don’t think Sun was…there. He acted like he hardly remembered it.” You tap your fingers along the ball, heavy in thought. The animatronic watches as you squint at him in thought before placing the ball on the ground and rolling it over with your thumb. “Why’d you do that, anyway?”
You push the ball and roll it towards him. It taps gently against his foot, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Hmm?”
“Catch me when I was falling to my doom.” You make a display of your hand falling and splattering against the floor for dramatic show, making an ‘splch’ noise to indicate going splat. “Why do that if you were just gonna end up trying to kill me later?”
There is a pause in the air. This Moon is a lot like Sun in that it moves in the same way it’s different. Where Sun was a bundle of nerves and a chatterbox, you’ve heard this thing laugh more than it held a conversation, responding only in cool tones and sentences that took little to no effort.
His head tilts, forever focused on your form but where Sun was almost always moving, standing tall and bright, this thing’s posture is lowered, sometimes close enough to the ground like a predator ready to lunge. You have half a mind thinking he’s about to do just that when he bends down to pick up the ball, rotating in his palm before sitting cross-legged just as you are. “We promised you.”
You wrinkle your nose. “I was joking with Sun. I don’t remember asking you-”
“I remember you.” Moon cuts you off. He pushes the ball back toward you, and it comes to stop near your lap. “Why are you here?”
You furrow your brows at the action, picking back up the ball and holding it quizzically. “…Because I work here? Duh? I’m wearing a uniform.” That doesn’t seem to be an answer that satisfies him, the metal shifting in his face to form a deadpan look. You think for a moment. “Because I work here, and because I’m not scared of you, and because Sun is my friend.”
For a split second, his smile flashes maniacal, then it’s back to its normal creepiness. “New Friend?”
“Sun’s Friend.” You correct, pushing the ball a little harsher this time toward him. “I dunno about you yet. You’re giving me mixed signals here, weirdo.”
At this, a mixture of confusion and something else flashes across his expression, but only for a moment. You’re not sure if it’s akin to surprise or maybe disbelief, but he doesn’t respond regardless. He catches the ball before it hits him. It’s a little freaky how it appeared normal in your hand but so much smaller in his.
You speak before he gets a chance. “ How is he, by the way?” You felt terrible. Sun was so friendly, and there was something so cruelly wrong about his counterpart (Another consciousness? Split personality? Stray lines of defect code? Did it even matter?) that he knew to keep Moon away from you. Said animatronic is quiet at your question, so you repeat it. “Sun, I mean. How’s he doing?”
The Daycare Attendant’s fingers tap against the ball for a few spare seconds, then rolls it back to you once more. “Misses you.”
Aw, that’s oddly sweet, but also a little confusing. You let the ball roll into your hand and push it back, and let a smile form on your face without any mischief. Moon squints at it. “Tell him I miss him too. I’ll give him a big hug when I see him.”
Something crackles from his voice box that sounds like low laughter as pushes the rolling ball back to you with a finger. “Okay. Come here.”
“Never in your metaphorical robot dreams.” You scoff. The response is a thin grin, and you wait until the ball reaches your palm to push it back towards the animatronic before continuing this make-shift game. “Does it hurt? When you transform into the other, I mean. It looked painful the first time.”
“Pass,” Moon answers without hesitation. He finds amusement in how your own face twists in disappointment and passes the ball back to you. He’s careful not to let his hand pass into the where the darkness blurs into the light. “Come inside the Daycare.”
“Hard pass.” The ball rolls into your hand, and you spin it in your palm thoughtfully as you lean back on your other hand, ignoring the spiteful look the naptime animatronic sends your way. “Hmm...What do you think about the other animatronics?” You ask. You haven’t asked anyone else about the Moon just yet, but you wondered if you could get a story from the Daycare Attendant himself. “I met Monty earlier officially, you know. He wasn’t nice to me at first, but he liked my phone sticker.” You push the ball back, to him, and blink the sleepiness that was starting to form in your eyes. “Then I think he threatened to throw me down the trash chute. You guys would probably get along. Maybe bond over different ways you could kill me or something.”
“Too loud.” Moon answers before the ball even enters the dark, and it's sent back your way before it’s hardly there a second.
There is no question in return. Rather, he sits quietly as you shut your eyes in a yawn and a stretch. When you open them again you don’t like how Moon’s posture has leaned forwards, or how his eyes have darkened.
“You’re tired.” It’s not a question and more of a statement.
“Yeah, no shit.” You scoff, patting down for your phone to check the time. “You gave me nightmares, buddy.”
Checking your phone tells you it’s a little under time for you to leave, and goodness knows your body could use some actual rest back at home while you process the entirety of your week. The Daycare Attendant watches as you yawn for a second time, patting down for your badge and keys, and other necessary items needed to properly clock out and lock up.
Moon’s faceplate rotates once as he processes your words, then clicks into place. “I can help.”
You can’t help the snort that leaves you as you pick yourself up from the floor. He rises as you do, though he doesn’t have to bend at the knees, but you spot the wire that lifts him up from the ground into standing position. Gathering your belongings and dusting off your uniform, you turn to him with a grin. “Yeah, no. Funny joke. You should try out to be a stand-up comedian animatronic instead.”
He stares at you, fingers twitching like he was looking at a job unfinished.
“I can help.” He repeats.
You ignore it. “Thanks for catching me, by the way, Oh, and taking the ladder back, and to the both of you for fixing the lights so I don’t get fired.” Turning to face him fully, you smile brightly. Then, you pull back your arm and chuck the plastic ball as hard as you can in his direction.
He doesn’t dodge it. It bonks rather pitifully off of his metal forehead without any true impact aside from sending the ball bouncing off into the darkness as he glares at you, unaffected. “And THAT’s for two nights ago. You want to be friends? Learn what personal boundaries and maybe don’t act like you’re going to strangle them, prick.”
“…Language.”
“Bite me.” Your words are sour, but your tone and smile are full of playful mischief. You have a plan. It might be a very stupid, flimsy plan fueled by your own curiosity and the fact that you might enjoy a little chaos in your mundane life, but you’re going to figure out what the deal was with this shifting, two-face animatronic that was either too friendly or near deadly. You didn't even have confirmation if he planned to kill you or just knock you out somehow. There must be a reason and perhaps a history why there’s no naptime protocol at the Daycare anymore.
Call it morbid curiosity. “I’m still mad at you, like, pissed at you. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe. Sun, too.” You start walking off, waving as you climb the stairs and talking over your shoulder. “Goodnight!”
There’s a pause as he watches your retreating figure. Whatever confusion he keeps is overridden at your wave, and you hear his voice call back. “See you tomorrow…feel better soon.”
Blinking, you turn back, just to realize the hand you were waving with was the same bruised one as before. Letting out a chuckle, Moon steps back into the darkness, fingers curling into a slow wave of his own as he disappears. “Nighty night…”
You flip a bird off with your injured hand into the Daycare’s darkness and turn away to the exit.