Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your feet shuffled against the smooth surface of the tiles that made up the floor of the massive HQ you found yourself in.

Past midnight, it was empty, safe for the distant ticks of the clocks or buzzing of the computers, maybe a swift gust of wind from time to time. You took the nightshift again, knowing full well tomorrow you’ll have to face your professor with pride and hope not to fail the subject this time. He was a strict teacher, and the night set out to be long and boring to no end, it didn’t look too good from your point of view.

A groan escaped your lips as you caught the sight of your own reflection in the glass that separated one of the offices of the coding staff. Eyebags set heavy as the most prominent feature of your face, alongside the dead and tired expression that reminded you of those which were cut out in marble, bound to stay the same for all eternity.

Getting a degree in mechanical engineering and a security guard job really did bring out the worst in you, still you weren’t sure how you could’ve possibly thought it was a good idea. But the job paid for the course, so you stayed.

Your eyes wanted nothing but to close, feeling prickly and starting to ache already, before the night could even properly set into motion.

You decided the next best step would be to make yourself a coffee, before settling into the shared and locked cubicle people from the security department called the “security office”, which was a brick shaped coffin with a lot of monitors in all its glory and a small couch with a coffee table.

Before a second and annoyed sigh could pass your lips, the sound of something hitting the floor startled you, sending you into full guard.

“Hello? Is someone there?” The beam of light from your flashlight was directed to where you heard the noise coming from. One hand of yours already found itself resting safely on the taser, not a company issued one, no, it was one of your personal belongings, ready to bring down a full grown man for a few seconds if needed to. At least you chose to believe that.

The hallway seemed vastly different from the one you came from, this one was off, as if a caution sign in itself. Along with a pair of faulty, at times flashing lights overhead when you decided to flick them on, as if its bleak look wasn’t enough of a warning.

“Fuck this..”

You muttered under your breath, hearing clearly the light and wary footsteps of a person who really wanted to stay unknown for some reason, you could hear them clear as day thanks to your alert senses from more than a year of being security in places no one else wanted to.

With a quick huff you readied yourself for whoever was currently in there, probably a squatter. 

Again. That seemed to be a common thing with Fazbear Entertainment. A lot of squatters. Maybe if they actually invested in a place that wasn’t built atop of some ruins, or other types of dingy warehouses instead of trying to cover up all the accidents they definitely caused we wouldn't have to bother with trespassers…

Your thoughts trailed off as you began to nervously ramble in your head. 

A bad habit that made you earn more than enough reprimands for the rest of your life. You straightened yourself out, trying to seem taller than you were in actuality, what you lacked in height you made up for in the demeanor.

You skillfully masked your nervousness, starting the march towards the far away office where you heard the noise, and the footsteps.

If not for the echoing sound of your feet meeting the ground you could swear the person would’ve heard the beating of your jittering heart, shaking heavily with the growing tension.

The presumed squatter must’ve realized security was heading that way because you could swear they even stopped breathing in order to stay hidden. You decided to test your luck again tonight, clearing your throat to call out. “This area is strictly off–limits, please stop hiding so I can escort you out.” After a beat of silence you added a tone louder.

“You’re not in trouble!” Nothing.

A pitiful whine escaped your mouth as you shook your head, one hand flashing the light into the office, past the glass walls to see if someone is inside, eyes narrowing to really take in the interior.

Dark, colossal with added depth from the lack of any light besides your flashlight and a soft, purple light emitted by the VR headset, currently laying on the floor, probably the thing you heard getting knocked off. Your teeth grazed your lip lightly, biting into it from the tension. Someone had to boot up the system and turn on the headset, which means it wasn’t a squatter. 

You closed your eyes when opening the door, almost bracing for an impact that never came, a sigh of relief left you, as you skimmed over the room, not bothering to turn on the light at all, that would mean turning the power on for everything in the sector because Fazbear Entertainment didn’t bother with installing proper electrical systems.

You picked up the headset, staring at it for a moment, scoffing at the thought you got so worked up over this piece of junk. With a breathless and quiet chuckle, you set it at a nearby desk, turning to leave, glancing over a bunny mask next to it.

That would be, if not for the loudest creak you’ve heard in your life, sending a new wave of tension through you, putting all your senses back on their highest gears, up and alert as if you had made contact with a faulty socket using a pair of forks.

Your spine straightened and chest puffed out as you shone your flashlight directly at the sound.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing–” You began, cutting yourself off when you noticed the person wore the typical clothes those Beta testers did. 

Sure enough, the girl that froze in her step, who was almost out of the room, hand still on the handle of the massive, grey door that betrayed she was even there, looked like a Beta tester for the VR game.

With blonde hair and really tense shoulders that seemed to waver gently with each breath she took, she didn’t turn just yet but you could see the faint colors of her rainbow streaks she had in front.

She didn’t seem to be a threat of any kind. At least not the usual kind, you didn’t falter just yet. “Hello?” You almost reminded her with the tone you used, making her turn around slowly. 

A pair of stunning green eyes stared right at you, squinting slightly from the blinding light of your flash. You could swear you could read the loneliness or maybe a gleam of exhaustion caught up in them, like a closed window to her soul she left slightly ajar by accident.

She might’ve been a tad bit taller than you, it was hard to tell when she seemed to unintentionally make herself look smaller. She had pale skin, and eyebags, the type of looks you’d definitely describe someone working as a Beta tester for a game to have. Didn’t mean she wasn’t pretty, though.

The way she glared gently at you, clearly nervous and a tad bit off made you suddenly self conscious, your eyes couldn’t quite read the name of her badge, the gloss of the laminated document obscuring it while reflecting the shine of your flashlight.

“I’m sorry.. What are you doing here?” You said, lowering the light gently, realizing she clearly couldn’t see anything. 

“It’s well past midnight, you know..” The one sided conversation was really starting to make you uneasy. The girl seemed almost rattled in some way, a shaky breath escaped her mouth gently as you realized she was hating this awkward interaction as much as you. That’s what you get when mixing two people who really didn’t want to do anything with anyone at that given moment.

“Sorry I was just.. working … Overtime.” She met your gaze for a moment, a silent battle of stares, a fight you couldn’t lose if you wanted to keep the last bit of control over this unusual and weird situation.

She didn’t seem convinced with her own words, almost as if someone else put them in her mouth instead, she herself seemed to wince internally when they came out. Weak and not at all convincing. 

“Working? At this time?” Her eyes narrowed, a frustrated expression creeping up on her face. The staring contest continued, but the sudden intensity of her glare began to eat out at your mind, burning through as if she tried to burn a hole in you, she wasn’t going to answer this time clearly, at the moment the blonde reminded you more of a wild, cornered animal you try to gently coax out without getting scratched at.

You decided the second best bet would be to weird her out more than she did you. “I like your hair, by the way. The rainbow strands, I mean.”

Her face scrunched up in confusion as she let go of your eyes and lowered her own to glance at her rainbow streaks on the both sides of her face, a few strands being dyed messily but with a certain style that definitely seemed like some kind of wordless code, those who knew, knew.

Her pale and gently freckled face flushed lightly, as she looked away, at the floor, mumbling out confused. “Thanks..?”

That’s when you could finally read the ID card that hung over her neck, Vanessa A. So, she was definitely a worker here, you didn’t have a heart to tell her to get the hell out of there like you should.

She was a worker, so clearly maybe she really was dedicated to this. If her appearance was anything to go off of you’d say that she definitely was. A tad bit of frustrated sigh left your mouth as she looked up at you, watching cautiously as you let your arms fall defeated alongside your sides. Your faulty shoulder letting out a loud crack. “Look I really don’t want any trouble, let’s just, help each other out?”

One of her brows raised up, making you focus on the eyebrow piercing you didn’t notice before, a bridge piercing too. It really suited her if you had a say in it. Back to the present, you spoke again when she didn’t even try to intervene with words of her own. “You let me do my work, and forget about anything I do out of protocol, and I let you.. Uh. Crash here? I’m not really sure what you’re doing..”

Her eyes widened slightly as she quickly spoke up, with a bit of frustration or maybe defensiveness in her tone, as her eyebrows furrowed down staring right at you again.

“I’m not crashing here–!” You waved her off slightly, something she didn’t look a fan of having done to her. Getting dismissed so easily like that. 

“I’m not judging you,” Your eyes narrowed so you could make sure you didn’t twist her name or anything like that. “Vanessa. Really, it’s fine as long I get no shit for it from our manager.” She straightened herself visibly at the use of her full name, but you decided not to make it any more awkward by commenting on it.

“Just, please don’t sit in the dark, you really freaked me out.” Your perfect and scarily straight posture slacked, revealing the bone–deep exhaustion she could definitely relate to, she wanted to say something, but you already turned to get back to the cubicle you spent most your days in if you weren’t sneaking around redacted documents.

Before you left, leaving her sort of confused and lost for the lack of proper reaction other than tired defeat, you glanced at her, biting the “are you okay?” comment, knowing she was just a co–worker who seemed ready to hit and run if she was provoked enough.

You sighed and stretched out your arms, deciding to finally settle on “I’ll be down the hall, to the right, in the security office. If you need anything.” And with that you left, hurriedly, not wanting to dwell on the situation. She was pretty enough to make you feel like the intruder in her own little thing. And again, you folded under absolutely minimal pressure.

Nights seemed to pass like this from then on, since you were the one to cover almost all of the nightshifts after all, because of your university during the day.

Vanessa was an often occurrence in the workspace, she didn’t seem a fan of your often worried or prolonged stares, filled with concern and curiosity. Which didn’t mean she didn’t try to bother you in your own little “research” too. If she wasn’t lost in whatever the hell she did in that VR game, she seemed suspicious of you, in an unnerving way.

Always standing a bit too still and silent, staring at you messing around with classified documents, making you jump one too many times.

You hissed, staring at the papers in your hands, all written in a way that told you nothing of what you needed, until you reached something that made you stop, frozen. Your name. Written very sparsely and in a heavily overly redacted and edited way.

Dated back to the year of 2023, a few weeks after you got out of Fazbear Fright, ran back home, with a torn side and messed up shoulder, crying and shocked beyond words. 

A few weeks before the attraction burned down, with the walking and rotten rabbit in it. Leaving you shaken, with a need for answers. Just as you were about to read more, a creaking sound made you jolt out of your shocked state, startling you into hiding the papers behind you quickly, facing the person behind you in the doorway. Vanessa. Of course.

“Vanessa, what are you doing here ?” The question has been asked before, but when you said it from that moment on, it meant more of a “why are you in my business, Vanessa?”.

She stayed silent for longer than usual, blinking away the fogginess in her mind and narrowing her eyes, tilting her head just slightly as she gazed down at the documents. Furrowing her brows. It frustrated you just how often she found you in the worst possible situations, and what was worse was how she knew your whole deal, just like that. As if someone else told her all about it.

“I was just about to.. get myself a coffee.” She calmly stated, boring into you, a silent challenge. She had you bested here, clearly. It wasn’t nothing short of infuriating on both sides, always running into each other’s business, either by accident or not.

Mostly not. Despite everything, you began to care for your unlikely “friend”. Often finding her staring blankly and unresponsive, in that VR headset, or simply passed out right there on her own desk. At the moment she looked much more tired than usual, and despite getting caught redhanded, your heart ached a bit. 

“You look horrible.” You winced internally at the comment you made, it definitely didn’t convey the feelings you actually had but she caught you in a bad spot, making you extremely defensive. Before she could bite back with a comment of her own, you spoke up again.

“You should take a break. We have a couch in the security office. Come on.”

Her expression turned into a frown that clearly conveyed she wasn’t about to be led anywhere, but you caught her wrist before anything else, you felt her tense up slightly, as you began to lead her into the office, ignoring the glare she sent your way after she made sure to take in all of the scattered documents you left. “I can take care of myself.” She hissed out the words slightly.

“Sure.” Both of you walked into “your” little, silent office, sure enough, with a couch there. Again she reminded you of a cornered animal, about to maul you, but you were too annoyed to bother.

“Just.. take a break Vanessa. No one’s waiting for you in that game.” You muttered after making sure she sat down, watching as she visibly leaned into the couch, but visibly frowning in that sort of panicked way when you mentioned the VR game in that context. That’s how you remembered her. 

Silently covering for and discovering each other, masking the interest with quiet remarks and biting comments, disguising each other's secrets with a mask of detachment. One that was slipping dangerously, as you both watched each other with clear caution. 

Chapter Text

Help Wanted was a few years past you, leaving you in another dead end job where you were getting paid for work no one else wanted to do, instead actually living their life to its full potential. But for someone like you, there seemed to be nothing else.

The day was slow, awfully slow, it seemed to just lengthen anytime your eyes caught the whim of a clock in the small office. Over five years of odd jobs like this, from small houses to massive offices in need of security, there was no need for you to buy an actual house anymore, the apartment you did have was barely shown any love as it was, on account of you being at work all the time.

That’s what employers loved, a security guard who took nightshifts seemingly every single time, a worker who could be called at any time of the day, or night for that matter, and still show up. Definitely not with a smile, but no one seemed to care about.

Although you were no intimidating person, rough around the edges, that’s for sure, but definitely not fear inducing. Which was a shame to some extent, but as long as you had a taser in your pocket and a, not company–issued, pepper spray in the other, you were good with any security gig. But this one was comparable to having God soft–launch purgatory for you, endless and boring to no end. 

The odd jobs were fine, you didn’t get many intruders, maybe one or two once in a while, a break-in mostly done by stupid teens, you were a stupid teen once who did comparable things, so you never really give chase to them, no respected policeman would even respond to a call about a teenager and light crime, it’s expected. The police force was lousy to say the least, that’s how Fazbear Entertainment kept in order for so long.

A small woman in her 30s was looking for a security guard to take care of her mansion for a few days, before anyone else could get a whiff of the “help wanted” poster, you were already there, ready for work.

Not ecstatic, never that, but with a resume good enough for anyone who wanted to be sure their property was guarded like a fortress. That’s what your resume showed, maybe you didn’t look that way, but looks are certainly a deceiving thing.

That’s how you ended up here, the woman did at least have a designed security room, cameras, small space away from her actual living area, locked away, ideal. Your eyes trailed over the monitors showing the dead silent outdoors, obscured only partially by your legs which were kicked up on the desk. After confirming that there was only a small coyote running alongside the fence, you took a sip of your energy drink, reading its label.

“Gator Gas.." You read. "I’m not making it past my 20s, for sure.” You murmured to no one in particular, reading the name of the Mongomery Gator themed energy drink, a collaboration of the Fazbear Entertainment and some massive company you didn’t bother looking up.

What mattered was the drinks were cheap and gave enough kick not to fall asleep on the job. Reading the label of it seemed like enough fun for the time being. The drink itself wasn’t half bad, cactus flavoured, it was fine. 

After another sip, you flipped the can to see the ingredients, of which you understood nothing but the word “caffeine”. Next to that was a small explanation or something, skipping it over seemed like the right thing to do.

After glancing over the words, catching only things like “Monty approved”, “Make you a Rockstar”, “Feel like the Gator”, you noticed a small advert, for a job. Weird doesn't even begin to describe it.

You blinked a few times, focusing on the rather small fineprint, sure enough, there it was “help wanted, in need of workers, make yourself a star at our show! Call this number, and you too can be part of Freddy’s family”.

From your previous and unfortunate experiences with Fazbear Entertainment you knew they were desperate, never suspected to be that desperate, though. It seemed like no matter what you did, all roads led back to Freddy.

Ever since that time exactly ten years ago, all the way up to now, you can’t escape it. From your 15th birthday, all the way up to your mid 20s, life you led has been tainted by that place, that walking yellow rabbit animatronic, although you can’t quite trust yourself, maybe it has been just a dream after all, induced by stress and adrenaline, you were a teenage runaway back then.

But hey, that’s just the young adult experience for you. 

You wish you could go back with all the knowledge you have now, back to Fazbear’s Fright, dodge that stupid animatronic and set the haunted house ablaze early, before its eventual fire.

Not only would you escape the chronic shoulder pain you have now, but also get closure, maybe an answer. But no, life was nothing but cruel. When you did look for answers, into places where curiosity led you to things you wouldn’t approach with a gun, you only got more questions. And an inapt interest, a growing obsession with getting the actual truth. An answer to a simple question, what happened at Freddy’s?

Ten years later, now in the ‘33 with the opening of the Pizzaplex, your obsession only grew.

Leaving you slightly behind, you were stuck in the past, ending many therapy sessions and treatments early, as they tried to convince you it couldn’t have been real, so did many friends, and family. A figment of imagination of a lost and delirious teen. Maybe truth laid somewhere in-between.

But to come crawling back to Fazbear Entertainment, after what you did last time? The thought made you audibly sigh, rolling your eyes as you took another sip of the sugary drink, the last one.

Your fingers tensed, ready to crush the can, but before you did, without much thought you copied the number onto a small piece of scrap paper, pocketing it. Only then did the sound of the can bending could be heard, followed by clanking of it against the bin and on the floor, making you hiss in annoyance, all because of your stupid shoulder. You couldn’t even aim a can into the bin, your eyes set back to the monitor, but the advert still lingered somewhere in the back of your head.

You were a delinquent, a person tossed away to the sidelines of society, always behind and seemingly living in a whole different world. Working when others slept, sleeping when people enjoyed free time, and then working again. Always on dial, always on time, never not working. It kept you busy, sane.

It gave you enough coverage from others to research Fazbear's company during your often uneventful shifts. When you thought about your experience after college, you didn't quite imagine this. Maybe a bit more partying, although you weren't lacking in that in the slightest.

A groan left your lips, another sigh of annoyance at the slimmest thought of the Pizzaplex. Your eyes trailed away from the empty and buzzing monitors when you felt your phone vibrate, hand already reaching for it, the black screen mirroring your tired and annoyed expression before turning on. Nothing.

Just an alarm clock you forgot to turn off, not many notifications beyond that, most people considered you a private person that should be called or talked to in person, which was great, you didn't have a good enough sleeping schedule to manage responding back to texts on a daily basis.

The digital clock slowly turned, displaying the current hour of 6:17. Two more hours until you get swapped with some relative of the woman who worked as a day “security”. You weren't complaining.

Odd jobs were alright, but a stable income would be more than ideal. Maybe it was time to return to Freddy’s once more, it was almost enjoyable if you forget about being stuck in Fazbear’s Fright for hours with a rotting security guard trying desperately to keep you alive in place, you barely remember him, left with what you thought you saw. 

Purplish skin, yellow eyes barging on bloodshot as if his liver stopped working a long time ago, alongside the kidneys, many bandages as if he was falling apart but couldn't give up just yet. That was him, Mike, from what he told you, while you sat shaking in the corner with a torn up shoulder and stomach.

That was your first time with that wicked Pizzeria chain, years later getting to work “on” the development of some VR game all about the animatronics, sure you were just a security guard, but that gave you enough clearance to snoop around emails, old messages, redacted documents.

Anything that could bring you closer to the truth. Or tell you that you weren’t in fact crazy, and what happened really was based in reality. Leading you to meeting an equally weird girl, maybe a year or two younger.

Days in there were boring, the Beta testers didn't even see you much, but you saw them. And her. Almost every nightshift, she was there. That woman, blonde, with rainbow streaks in her hair.

Vanessa.

She seemed almost entranced at times, locked to that screen. Busy with work one would say, but you knew better. You met almost every night, and had shared definitely more than one biting remark with each other.

Your only actual interaction during a dayshift with Vanessa was getting walked in on, you were standing tall, tired, zoned out in place, before someone hurriedly bumped into you, blinking down at your fallen form.

Awkward. Both of you felt like fish out of the water, seeing each other in such a varied  environment compared to the usual unusual of your meetings.

She seemed off in a way you couldn’t put your finger on, during the day it was far more prominent, she stared ahead of herself before blinking the fog behind her eyes away and locking them on your form, tired, as if they’ve seen enough in her twenty-something years of life, and were ready to close forever, that’s why she never slept. 

“Vanessa?” The name slipped past your lips as you stared up at her, just as confused. A pretty shade of emerald, and dark eyebags underneath, staring right at you.

So out of place when set in the middle of daylight, instead of an eerie night. She was your vampire, feeding off your energy and somehow keeping you entirely invested, and vice versa. She was your Carmilla. And now she was here, foreign in the setting.

Before she could say a word, a man, who you vaguely recognized as a coworker, snatched her away, with words similar to “Oh, Vanessa! There you are. I was looking for you everywhere, come on.”

She didn't even apologize, didn't look like she was about to, she seemed almost lost. That's all you had for your last meeting. Trying to keep in touch with her was hard, weird for the both of you.

On one encrypted chat you did use from time to time, just to know if she was coming that night, letting her know you won’t be covering the shift that time so she can’t be around without trouble, or other unrelated things, she had a habit of seeming almost alien, different so severely you found yourself worrying more and more.

Later the same week you diplomatically decided to walk out of the team, choosing to quit after an agreement with your boss that he will not say a word about you stealing and reading documents if you leave. What can you say?

You had a lot of charm. And blackmail, but one is almost like the other when it comes to making people agree with you. After your resignation you found yourself losing contact with that mysterious girl, trying your best to maintain it all until she one day just stopped.

First she stopped responding, then she stopped even reading your piling questions and messages on why she doesn’t respond or at least let you know she’s fine. She was gone.

But even after that, Vanessa stayed with you, somewhere in the back of your mind, just like most things that related back to Freddy’s, yet another unexplained mystery. No matter what, bittersweet resentment stayed.

If you wanted to count all of the mysteries on your fingers, you’d have to grow at least ten new ones just for it to cover the tip of the iceberg. From Fazbear’s Fright and Mike in there, to the VR game you may or may not have tried yourself after hours a few times, meeting another wretched rabbit thing. You had a lot of luck with those it seemed. 

Fazbear Entertainment was desperate, as always. But so were you. And just maybe, you had to test your luck once more. You stared at the dead outside portrayed on the cameras, and your own scribbled papers laid out on the desk, ready to pack them up and leave at any given second.

At what point does fascination end and mania begin? You were about to find out, as your hand slowly began to dial the number you’ve seen listed for the application. A solid minute has passed, a minute of silence, just the ring of your phone, until a person actually picked up.

“Uh, hello? Hello, hello?” A distorted voice of a middle aged guy could be heard from the other line of the call, someone from Freddy’s. You’ve heard something similar many years ago already, why do all phone callers from there have to start every message the same way? Maybe it was some sacred and unbreakable tradition they held up.

“This is Fazbear Entertainment’s official hiring manager, how can I help you tonight?” 

“Yes, hello. I’m calling to ask about the available jobs at the new Pizzaplex?” You said after clearing your throat lightly, waiting impatiently for an answer on the other side, but you were met with nothing except for the buzzing sound that only old or banged–up tech made.

“...I saw an ad?” 

“Uh, yes. Sorry, we’re not hiring people without experience anymore, unless they sign up for the internship program. You sound a bit.. young, for a position here.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes slightly, luckily the phone man didn’t hear that part of your very clear and growing frustration with the call that was only a few seconds long by now.

“I have a long background in working as a security guard for many clients, including Fazbear Entertainment, a few years back. But if you’re not interested, I understand…” It was hard to hide your overly present attitude, the insolence seeping from the response as you were about to hang up and make them regret not taking you back again, but the man clearly caught your attention before you did.

“Really? And why aren’t you with us anymore, working for Fazbear’s I mean?” Attitude for attitude, he asked with a gently sly undertone of his normally calm if not a bit nervous sounding voice. Almost acting as if you were caught red–handed in some sort of scheme or a lie.

“I had to quit in order to finish my college course in mechanical engineering.” You could swear you heard him gasp at that, or maybe the unstable connection and lots of background noises made it seem like that. 

“Well.. We do have a spot available now that I’m looking at it.” The phone man definitely made that up on the spot, hiring and firing people at will just like most things with this company, unprofessional. “But the job is really challenging. Both physically and mentally. You’ll start in the next few days.”

“Sorry?” You asked, brows furrowing at your other hand played with the paper you had the number written out on, crunching and folding it as a way to keep yourself busy and focused on something. You must’ve heard it wrong, surely. 

“You can start in a few days, please send us an e–mail to the address I provide you with, don’t forget to send your resume for legal work. I hope you’re ready to get back to be a part of Freddy’s family of stars! Or whatever, uh.. Just send me the resume. Okay? Okay!” He hung up. That was even easier than you could’ve possibly imagined it to be. 

From: [email protected]

Subject: Application for Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex

To: [email protected]

You couldn’t believe what the guy on the other end of the line just said, although, maybe you could. Knowing the type of accidents that occurred in the past with those animatronics, including the one you faced with that purple security guard, they must be looking for someone who knows what they're doing.

Especially when dealing with such high tech you heard of being used at the newest arcade, highly trained and programmed AI with a bite force of 3,700 psi or more, those robots bit down on at least two people, and that’s the bites you found that weren’t fully scrubbed.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Your contact at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex

To: [email protected]

Someday you would return to Freddy’s, you just didn’t know it was going to be so soon. This time you were going to be ready, for whatever they are trying to hide away, you were determined.

You were hell–bent on finding the truth.

Chapter Text

Rereading old texts can't be healthy, for sure. But who cares when it’s late at night, and that’s the only steady reminder of who you used to know? Can you really be blamed for not moving on if the girl you sort of hated but definitely didn’t, and most definitely liked at least a little bit was the most mesmerizing and complicated woman in the whole, wide galaxy? You didn’t want someone like Vanessa. You wanted her. But she was gone now.

Another day passed, you were free for a moment, sitting in the seat behind the stirring wheel of your car, leaning back heavily into the old and tattered leather as your eyes were locked somewhere far away, on the starry night, something you grew to understand more than the prickling sunlight. One night just like this one, with the cold picking up and the wind not slacking off was a steady reminder that things can, in fact, be slow at least for a moment. Nighttime was the Earth’s natural state, if not for the busy Sun, a moment for everything to breathe before the terrifying unknowns of the tomorrow.

A silent voice of the moon whispered sweet nothings, easing your sleep deprived brain. It told you all about the people that were once so close to you, that now are so distant. It told you it's okay. And for a moment you forgot to worry. Because if there was a time to calm down at least for a second, it definitely was during the calm night.

Every blink was heavy like a draping curtain, opening and closing to display the stage for a few seconds more before the end of the show, waiting for the voluminous applause. A sigh made its way through the stillness in your car that you turned off to take in the silence of the night, something you understood best, you’ve lived for a while now, and still, that’s the only thing that somehow calms you down. The soft clouds wrapped around the moon, partially blocking the speckled stars.

At times like these you wondered if Vanessa was staring at the same moon, at the same moment. Something about her made it impossible to forget, you couldn’t let go of her, finding yourself wanting to reach out to her, just so you knew she was alive, better than you last saw her. So devoid of feelings or substance. Empty and miserable, but somehow finding a path in her misery, similar to how Camus described that one must imagine Sisyphus happy. She was Sisyphus, and you were the absurdist trying to find nuance in her torment, relating to some of it. And finding absolutely all of it book worthy, ready to write pages on end about her.

Maybe you two had a chance, somewhere, some other time, far away from Freddy’s. In another life perhaps, you thought about her way too often, still caught up on the way she looked at you. “In another life” is a nice thought to have, but this is all you get. There is no other life, this is what we get, and what we have to make do.

She looked at you with so much hate and longing, as if she was beating herself up over every time she was drawn to you. Almost like someone telling her off for how wrong it was for her to be lured by someone else.

She was magnetic, pulling you into something dangerous you had no control over, but neither did she. Maybe she knew just how hooked you were, and just maybe she was pining the same way. She seemed the type. The type to romanticize her tragedy to make sense of it. Or worse, the type to bring herself and everyone else with her just to find a reason to do what she does.

No matter what, you had an unspoken suspicion something was going down when she worked on Help Wanted, trying your best to understand it was hard, your personal involvement with the VR game itself was minimal, especially after putting the headset a few times, seeing a glitched out rabbit you tried your best to avoid, some version of the mangled and wretched thing that busted your shoulder and scarred your psyche. You took more interest in the files scattered across the whole office building.

Despite that you did try the VR game more than once. But the whole thing ended when after yet another avoidance of that stitched up bunny dlc or whatever it was, the game bugged out and left you in the Fazbear Fright office, frozen in fear, staring at it, or –him.

That disgusting, mauling and rotting yellow, now green from age, rabbit. The thing that set you back for the rest of your life, with a nasty scar on your side, and even worse scar on your mind. It was going off–script, not moving. Staring, breathing, not because it needed that anymore, but because it tried to remind itself what being human meant. The creative directors couldn’t have known that it used to do that, that was too great of a detail to add when you didn’t want to blow your budget on small things.

Just as you were hyperventilating, faced with your worst nightmare again, not in your dream this time, someone had grabbed your damaged shoulder making you jolt and hiss in pain, the person snatched the headset off you, staring at you. Vanessa. Again. She had a thing for picking the worst times.

Of course she was there, after hours, even though she told you she wasn’t going to be there that night, and yet she was, staring at your panting form, a few steps away from her, your hands resting on your thighs as you caught your breath, digging into them painfully. You had looked at her wide–eyed once, she seemed annoyed you touched her things, pissed off even, but her expression turned when she saw your form, her stern posture slacking lightly as if she knew far too well what that panic felt like. Primal, gripping.

The memory made you feel off even now, when sitting safely in your black and beat up car, laying back in the leather seat. You remembered well just how your lungs felt as if they were at half of their capacity, making you unable to get a full breath. And yet the blonde stayed, uneasy and timid from not knowing how to help in such a case, even though she knew what it was like. She didn’t want to startle you, setting back the headset as she walked closer, making you glare up, making her even more cautious.

You were a prideful person, often leaving you making decisions you grew to regret later, despite clearly being still panicked and uneasy to the point of wavering, you had straightened yourself, biting down another hiss as your shoulder cracked loudly, making her focus on it longer than you wanted her to. She wanted to help, clearly, at least that’s what you believed she was trying to do, but that made you feel weak back then, still does, as if that rotting thing still had control of you somehow, which was impossible after all. It burned down and was gone for years now.

You recall it clearer than day, watching her blurry form in front of you, as you had stood up tall with a bruised ego. You relive the moment slowly, hoping not to forget just how gentle she seemed, for a second actually normal, herself. Genuine. She shook her head slightly, almost uncatchable if you didn’t know her odd ticks by that point, but you were too caught up in trying not to look weak to care.

So after catching your breath you promptly turned on your heel and began to walk away, burning from shame to some extent, leaving her caught off guard form left in the room, with the headset near her, still on the Fazbear Fright level. Despite your mutual dislike to some extent. She cared, but didn’t know what possibly she could do. So she did the next best thing, silently agreeing to never talk about it again. And for that, you were grateful, really. You and her didn’t seem like the pair to somehow feel connected to one another, it wasn’t affectionate or soft.

It felt more like a tale of desperation, angst and incoming doom neither wished to face alone. And it was..

everything.

A sort of cynical feeling took over you, a dim but still burning fire that somehow refused to be put out, always seeming to smoulder. It’s an eternal fire, fueled by your obsession, it burns indefinitely leaving you with a certain warmth that clings and never goes away, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, no matter what. You missed her, who wouldn’t? The whole hating yet yearning from far away, untouchable but palpable, almost true.

And then you quit.

Read; got fired.

And she slowly began to disregard you. And then.. she was gone.

Without a race, without a text, without a call. Dead? Maybe. It helped you not to completely hate her for leaving you in the dark for so long.

All you could do to forget about it for a moment was lay there, exhausted over the edge of normalcy or to throw yourself into work, endless, but only for a fraction of what appeared to be an eternity. Your tired eyes focused on the moon once more, which remained unaware of your pain, still humming a soothing tune only for the deranged to hear.

Unknown to you, the whirlpool of circling bitterness currently flooding your mind was about to be halted by a simple phone call, a number you hadn't yet saved. The buzzing sound of your ringtone cut through the deathly silence of the night, a stupid tune you had saved on your phone, making you straighten yourself and hit the sun visor rather abruptly, hearing the sound of Buddy Holly blast and cut the reverent silence. You picked up, already annoyed.

“Hello? Hello?” A man, again, could be heard at the other end of the line, a different guy from the phone man you had spoken with for a brief moment when discussing the position at the Pizzaplex over the line last time. This one sounded much more tired, if that was possible. Less put together, nervous in some subconscious way. An anxious mess of a representative, to say the least.

“Yes, hello. Who is this?” You asked, cutting straight to the chase as you massaged your temple that began to dully ache, more from exhaustion than the hit, but the headache began to actually affect you now. The guy, no older than 40, probably, cleared his throat from the uneasiness of your tone. An empath sensing the upcoming minefield that’s talking with someone like you.

“I'm Bernard Evans. Your Point of Contact for Fazbear Entertainment, uh, do I have the right number?” The e–mail guy, that made sense. An awful feeling settled over your gut as you realized this clearly was about to be a nightly intervention. Just what you needed at the moment, dying from exhaustion in your beat up Honda Civic, one you, despite it being second–hand and after more than just one accident, still cost you more than you'd like.

“Right. Yes, you have the right number,” You bit down the harsh and puzzling question of, where the hell did you get it, since his only contact to you was a throw–away mail called “[email protected]”. You decided to save it for another time. Instead opting for getting to know why is he calling you at this moment, and why isn't it a much easier and preferable e–mail.

“And, why are you calling me…?”

“Uh, as you may know from my e–mail,” You should just keep the Fazbear’s representatives in those little categories of: “Phone man”, “E–mail guy” and whatever comes after those two. “Security girl” maybe? No wait, you were the security girl. Or more of a “Snooping girl throwing away her shot” as your boss called you before you black mailed him. Sort of.

You sighed and heard him out. “You will be our only “hybrid worker” at the moment, so.. Two jobs in one, and a quarter more than the average pay!” Not even half, for doing double the work. Great start.

“... Since we’re short on staff. But hey, it’s fine! Ish. It just means we don't have loads of Parts and Service people available after a few… Diplomatic walk–outs… Which also means, we don't have a person who can take a look at the animatronic's malfunction.. We need you to, uh, come into work… To check it out. Don't worry, every extra hour will be added to your paycheck! So hey, the pay is great!” So why won’t you do it? Would be the proper question if you didn’t want to land this gig.

“It's 10 p.m. right now.. Isn't the place closed?” The man nervously laughed, quiet and cut short when he did. You blinked away the growing weariness of the oddness of it all. One of your hands started to fumble with the keys of the car to start it, it would take a moment for the diesel engine to heat up, why the hell did you even pick diesel.

“No no, the Pizzaplex closes for guests at 8, and goes under lockdown at exactly midnight. Chances are you will have to... uh, possibly spend the night there... but it counts as a full night shift! So, it's good. Good– good money, I mean. We're not technically having overnight staff there anymore. But uh, Vanessa is often there! She’s too scary to tell her off…” He mumbled but your eyes widened, almost jolting at the name, if you weren’t awake then, you’re definitely awake now.

“...And so will you! Congratulations, for uh, the honor to– uh..” He fumbled with his words so terribly it gave you second hand embarrassment. The situation had to be rather difficult and in need of quick repair, and Bernard was scrambling to find a solution.

“... To be the most recent member of the Fazbear family, hah! So you'll just get there before the lockdown, work on the animatronic, followed by a day off… Alright…?”

A deep sigh left you as your tired eyes closed for a long moment, being witness to the uncomfortable shuffling of Bernard on the other end of the line, the situation had to be rather severe then. Exactly what you needed right now, really. “What about my clothes, shouldn't I get an official uniform or something?”

E–mail guy let out a sigh of relief, realizing you sort of agreed on coming into work tonight, definitely not happy to do so but that wasn't necessary when you weren't present with any guests of the massive attraction, just the animatronics and some other worker. Named Vanessa.. just your luck, clearly. “We'll have your uniform in a few days, just.. show up. And fix that animatronic.. and that's all.”

“Right. I'll be there in thirty minutes. Any more surprises I should be aware of, Evans?” You could practically hear his anxiety radiating in waves through the line as he fumbled with an answer, making you witness to the fact the Pizzaplex had many surprises yet to be discovered, feeding into your morbid curiosity. The lack of his response made you almost skeptical he worked there, but you decided to spare him the shame of explaining. “Doesn't matter anyway. I'll be there shortly. Should I notify you when I get there?”

He huffed in a way only someone who was growing comfortable and during a very short period of ease could muster. “Uh, yes. That way I can adjust the hours spent to your paycheck. I'll e–mail you the details once you get there.. No need to dwell on it over the phone, yeah? Uh. So yeah. Good luck, old sport!”

“Don’t call me that.” You could almost feel him wince at your quick words.

“Yeah, right, sorry that was.. Uh, yeah let’s move on. Good luck.” He tiredly said, not even trying to fake his enthusiasm. Clearly embarrassed.

“Wait, why can’t you tell me the details about the robot when I drive there–”

The call ended, leaving you already fumbling with turning the car on, and momentarily sceptic as to why he needs to wait with the details. It was weird, and with Freddy's it meant the job was going to be a major health hazard. But you were more than ready for that, already having faced off a “feral” beast like that many years ago. Back at Fazbear Fright. Back with what the security guard referred to as “Springtrap”. That guy was definitely “spring–trapped” alright.

If you were about to be a “do everything and don't dare to complain about it” worker, you were going to stretch the boundaries of it as much as humanly possible while keeping the position. Which means only one thing; taking your sweet time getting there, half past eleven isn’t that late before a midnight lockdown, right?

He mentioned that not a lot of people have the nightshifts, almost none. Except for some minority of the human staff, which left you with a lot of freedom for snooping around. Exactly what you needed. Messing around with Fazbear Entertainment became a tradition at this point.

The Honda Civic's engine grumbled with disapproval, almost as if you were waking up a mythical beast from its eternal slumber, stubbornly refusing to turn on for a moment too long, as it hummed and sputtered, making your exhaustion morph into growing frustration. Finally the old car turned on, the lights blinding to your prickling and reddish around the edges eyes.

It was and always had been your bad tempered car and you against the world, specifically in a place gone to hell like this one. And even if this wasn’t hell, you definitely just signed your life away and began your drive to the gates of Tartarus.