Chapter Text
It’s raining.
Of course, it’s raining. The soft ‘pitter-patter’ on the window pane is relaxing for you. It blocks out the world and helps you step back for a while. It’s nice.
Rather, it would be had you been inside the McDonald’s. Whoopdie-fucking-do.
Your hair is soaked. You’re soaked. Even so, seeing the floppy frog eyes on your hood pulls the ghost of a smile to your face. Above you, fluffy clouds boil around the eye of the storm as it closes in. And when a particular gust of wind sends a torrent of water flying under the awning, you realize you need better shelter. So you take a breath and book it.
Most places are closed now. I mean, it’s almost one in the morning. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s not like anyone would risk getting robbed so some mentally unstable teen could stay dry while they trudge through their first-world problems. It’s a nice thought, though.
You’re broken out of your thoughts when you fail to lift your foot enough and barely avoid eating cement. Thrashing like a Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Man you right yourself and continue running like hell. Even squinting, you can’t see more than a few feet ahead. But you carry on all the same.
There aren’t any cars out right now, but that’s probably a good thing. The last thing you need is someone driving through a small pool too close to the sidewalk. While you certainly won’t be dry any time soon - if the ‘ squelch ’ you hear every time you take a step is anything to go by - you’d rather not get mud on your clothes.
A glimmer of hope shines like neon lights up ahead, piercing the wall of rain around you. It spurs you on. Your legs burn something fierce as the lights get brighter and more colorful. The colossal silhouette of a building comes into view, and even from here, you know what it is. Freddy Fazbears Mega fucking Pizza-Plex.
The front shutters are already down, with the cartoon Freddy grinning against the rain. You round a corner and sprint along the side wall towards the back of the building. There’s the hint of a dry spot along the lower bricks. You double over with your hands on your knees, half leaning on a stack of unopened crates, trying to catch your breath. Despite the weather, it’s not humid, so the crisp air goes down smoothly. You take a good two minutes to recover.
Once you’re breathing properly, you stretch and heave a sigh, slumping your shoulders in relief. Finally, you’re not getting assaulted by water. And then a ferocious flurry of wind sends a sheet of water your way, and any progress you’d made on drying is lost. Something of a grunt echoes as you try in vain to wring the water out of your hoodie.
Scanning the area, you must be in some kind of delivery area. A plethora of crates and boxes - even a forklift, are left in the rain. Guess Fazbears doesn’t mind water damage. Keeping as close to the wall as you can, you maneuver around stacks of crates in search of better cover. The first thing to catch your attention is the bright red ‘Exit’ sign over a door that looks significantly out of place compared to the rest of the building. It’s just a worn-down oak door with a broken padlock, and surprise-surprise, it’s open! You hurry inside like you’ve never seen a damn horror movie, and shut the door behind you.
You shut the door as quietly as possible, and turn to inspect whatever room you just blindly walked in. The first thing that hits you is the smell of fake meat, like a pepperoni pizza Lunchable. It’s not bad, per se, but it’s there. Next, is that this place is a kitchen. The giant sinks look industrial and well-kept, as do the ovens. Dispensers for various pizza ingredients and toppings, however, look sketchy at best, and you can name several ServSafe violations just by glancing at them. Sticky unease churns your stomach when you lock eyes with a Staff Bot. It’s turned off, but that only makes it worse. Its white casing and stiff posture remind you of a mannequin, and you’ve watched more than enough Markiplier videos to fear those things. You know it isn’t going to hurt you, even if it was active, so you’re probably fine to look away.
You do not look away.
You make every effort to keep your eyes on the damn thing while slowly backing out of the room. You don’t even blink until the metal door slides shut. Then you turn around and stare at the checkered tile while you flee, stiff as a board.
Despite being closed, the plex is still well-lit, what with all the neon lights strung along the ceiling. There’s music over the speakers, a weird remix of the band's theme. (Which sounds far too similar to Van Halen’s ‘ Jump ’ for your tastes.)
You’ve never been inside the Plex. It’s only been up for a few years, and by the time admission prices were within your range, you were considered ‘too old’ for this stuff, their words, not yours. Societal expectations aside, you’re already enjoying the interior design here. Props to the design manager. You huff melodramatically when you pat your pockets, only to find that you left your headphones at home. Jeeze, the one time you forget to grab them. Oh well.
With nothing else to do but wait for your clothes to air-dry, you explore this monstrosity of a mall. Guided by boredom and unchecked curiosity, you trek down the long, highly saturated hallways in search of something to focus your attention on, taking care to avoid the Staff bots dressed as security.
First things first, find a directory. There’s probably one by the food court.
This thing is fucking useless.
It’s just a giant board with the names and logos of each area plastered in random sports! How is anyone supposed to find anything with this thing?
You’re too stressed for this shit.
Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you turn and walk around it. Wandering will do you better than looking at that pile of lizard shit.
So wander you do.
It’s impossible to tell if there’s an actual nightguard here, and if there is, half of you is surprised you haven’t seen them yet. To be fair, the place is massive and has at least three floors. So realistically speaking, it makes sense.
Peaking around a corner, you stare down yet another giant hallway. This one, however, is lined with showrooms. From what you can see, the curtains on two rooms are drawn, and someone’s going ham on a guitar. It’s pretty impressive. Stepping out of your hiding place, you press on, looking up in light awe at the statues of the band members: Freddy, Chica, Roxanne, and… the gator. You can never remember his name. There’s an ad board between Freddy and Roxy. It’s advertising some sort of melatonin candy called a Moondrop. The character behind it looks like something out of a Picasso painting, in a good way. Their face is a crescent moon, and they’ve got a comfy-looking nightcap on.
The corners of your mouth turn up, and you move to continue walking, only to choke back a scream and almost slip darting behind the board when you see Roxanne fucking Wolf stalking by Freddys’ statue. How you didn’t hear her, you’ll never know. But now that you don’t , you certainly should’ve noticed sooner.
“Hey, kid!”
Oh hell nah.
Adrenaline shoots through your veins and you leap into action. Dropping down on all fours to prevent slipping, you floor it back the way you came. You grimace at the loud squeaking of your shoes as you run, but the water trail you’re leaving isn’t very subtle either.
Vaulting over benches and small barriers, you race under neon LEDs, encouraged by the pounding of metal feet behind you. You’re not going to jail, not tonight.
You hope.
You barely notice when your hood flies back with the velocity, you don’t have time to worry about it anyways. You veer left, struggling to gain traction on the now-wet tiles, tearing into the main atrium and righting yourself just too late to avoid nosediving down two flights of stairs.
A very strained, and very loud string of curses follows you down.
Thankfully, you cage your head in your arms in time, so hopefully, you won’t have to explain any fresh bruises in the morning. Your tumble ends relatively quickly, and you skid a couple of meters on your side. Hey, you got down a lot faster than if you’d just been running.
A sharp hiss pushes the remaining air from your lungs when you try to stand, holy shit you’re in a lot of pain right now. Did you break something? It feels like you broke something. Gritting your teeth, you hold your side with one hand, and push yourself up with the other. Your eyes are screwed shut as you wobble, blindly reaching for something to stabilize yourself on. You catch something and hold tight to it. It’s cold, but that’s to be expected. Fuck your side hurts.
Your clothes squeeze around your back and middle like something’s pushing them down, and you lean against whatever’s keeping you up. Something takes a hold of your wrist and pulls it to lay across something far beyond your height. There’s a voice, but there’s nothing to it but a quiet rumble. Its words are meaningless to your mind. You try to open your eyes, but immediately shut them again when it does nothing to help your dizziness. It’s getting hard to breathe. Your body burns, and everything hurts.
In a last-ditch effort to know what’s going on, you open your eyes again. It’s a struggle, and the floor sways beneath your feet. All you catch are two blue lights above you before the dark impatiently swallows you whole.