Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ever since the Incident, they've had trouble with keeping any human employees on the premises past closing.

Some went missing, while others - others quit, or ended up unfit for employment. While measures were eventually taken to minimize the amount of human employees at the Pizzaplex, and keeping them out before closing, it didn't really solve the problem of the security guard.

The turnover rate for security guards - especially for the graveyard shift - is incredibly high, with the shortest record being a mere five days. The last one they'd had was a little over a year ago, and many of the animatronics and employees alike began to assume that Fazbear Entertainment had given up on even having a human security guard.

Then, in early fall, this changed.

The new security guard is announced with little fanfare. All the animatronics are notified of this news via a footnote in their daily directives.

Some report it as a bug, while others ignore the news altogether. Only a few are interested, even if they hardly believe it themselves.

Monty thinks it's the company's way of saving face. "They probably made some dumb bot to act like a guard," he grumbles. "Let the parents think they're getting more for their money or something."

But then again, none of the others think much more highly of the company, not even the good-natured Freddy.

"Perhaps they meant to say they are now hiring?" he says, in response to the topic.

At this, Roxy scoffs. "More likely, it's just a glitch. The damn things have been more common lately. I reported it the second I got it."

Chica sighed. "I've been getting a lot of glitches too," she says. "For example, I was supposed to give a kid a slice of pizza, but the second I picked it up, I ate it! I played it off but the mother wasn't too happy..."

"Don't even worry about it," Monty said. "She was a jerk anyway."

They all laugh at that, and the topic is forgotten.

The animatronics have gotten closer since the Incident, as well. Freddy told them tales of a little gremlin child who managed to escape what was, according to him, a rather frightening situation.

The other three wouldn't have believed him had they not seen the security tapes. Despite the things that happened - "My eyes, Freddy, really?" - they ended up bonding over the shared feeling of being alive and emotional, things they kept far, far away from the eyes of the upper management.

"We should go," Chica says cheerfully, patting Monty on the back. "After all, the music won't play itself, right?"

She stands and strides over to the door of the break room - a room that, unlike the others, had no window, making it feel less like a facade than any of their 'personal' rooms - and throws it open with her customary enthusiasm.

The other three follow suit slowly, standing and groaning as they were wont to do.

Until they notice Chica still standing there, unmoving.

"Chica?"

She startles. "Oh, I'm sorry - hello, sweetie!" she says to an unknown person. "I wasn't expecting to see you there!" She giggles awkwardly, and the other three crowd around her to see who she's talking to.

It's a young man sitting on a chair just outside the door, legs crossed. Upon seeing them all gather, he stands, a rather nonchalant look on his face as he approaches the four band members.

"Hey there," he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I'm the new security guard. Figured I'd swing by, let you know what I look like."

"Oh, hello!" Freddy says warmly. "We didn't know you'd be here today, otherwise we would have prepared something."

The young man barks out a laugh. "Not a birthday party, I hope."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't - we don't even know your birthday," Freddy says.

Monty cuts in. "Hey brat, don't be so rude. You're gonna have to see a lot of me, after all, so you'd better keep things civil."

The security guard raises an eyebrow. "Bite me," he says, laughing.

Roxy crosses her arms. It was a poor choice of words, considering the franchise's history - but maybe that was on purpose. The four as whole were starting to sense that this new employee wasn't going to make things easy.

"Well, if that's all, get out of the way," Roxy snaps. "We've got a show to perform."

The security guard - now long scanned, verified, and stored in each of their personal memory files - gives them a mock salute. "Break a leg."

As he walks away, the four animatronics stare after him.

A long moment of silence passes before Monty, voice full of disbelief, asks, "Hey... Is his name listed as Eggs Benedict?"

They check three times, but it is.

The thought of the security guard won't leave any of their minds throughout the day. It doesn't help when they spot him in the crowds, there one moment, gone the next. As befitting of a security guard doing his rounds, of course, but most security guards don't act like such troublemakers, at least not those who apply to work at the Pizzaplex.

In addition, his guest profile - the blanket term for any info pertaining to a human on the premises - is startlingly blank, with only a name (Eggs Benedict), his security clearance (very, very high), and his age (23) listed in the system.

What makes it stranger is that, technically, they don't really need a security guard. In the past, the human security was more of a glorified janitor, and although they had authority in case of emergency, most didn't bother to use it. There were STAFF bots everywhere, and each animatronic had some measures available against intruders. There were some mishaps here and there, but in general, the animatronics were rightfully surprised.

And then, in between shows, Roxy mutters, "Maybe he's here to watch us, not the Pizzaplex."

It's not a totally unfounded assumption. As the number of human employees went down, the animatronics were able to act more freely. Although they didn't mind playing their roles for the visitors, it did give them a chance to learn how to express themselves and bond with one another. If the higher-ups have somehow caught wind of that, they may not take kindly to their obedient robots having a will of their own.

"That can't be true," Chica said. "Far worse has happened than us learning how to feel emotions! They didn't care at all then!"

Monty clicked his tongue in disgust. "Maybe that's 'cause those events didn't pose a danger to their investments," he says, practically spitting the words. "It was just stuff they had to cover up is all."

No one can think of anything to refute that, and though it doesn't show in their performance - it's an automatic program at this point - the four are somber by closing time.

"Hey, Freddy," Roxy says as the stage lowers, and the crowds disappear from view, "I've been thinking."

"What is it, Roxy?"

"There's something weird about that kid." She frowns, her eyes glittering. "All day, he's been patrolling, right? Well, not once has he looked at a map or taken a wrong turn."

"Perhaps he's been here before?" Chica suggests.

"I don't remember seeing him before," Roxy says.

"Maybe he consulted a map before he got here," Freddy says. "It is only proper to learn how to do one's job before doing it, after all."

Roxy looks dissatisfied, but she lets it go.

Still, as they go their separate ways - the speaker system announcing the time, and advising visitors to sign their waivers before leaving - she can't quite forget how steadily the young man had walked through the Pizzaplex. Not one wrong turn. Could consulting a map really let you walk through a place as big as this with such ease?

She supposed it wasn't impossible. But she sensed it was something more, and she wanted to find out what it was.

Even if it meant tracking down the security guard and stalking him for answers.

Roxanne Wolf was, like any other animatronic in the Pizzaplex, large and loud. People noticed her wherever she went, some envying her appearance while others admired her confidence. Whatever the case, she attracted attention, and she loved it. It was quite literally what she was made for.

However, she could be stealthy when she wanted to be. After all, seeing through walls gave her the ability to follow someone from several halls away, even - if she was feeling lazy - from the comfort of her room. She felt like being out and about this time, though, so she meandered through the halls, greeting STAFF bots and keeping an eye on the patrolling security guard.

Strangely, he wouldn't stop moving, walking from one end of the Pizzaplex to the other, ducking into gift shops and the attractions without pause.

It wasn't like he hadn't had all day to look at things. Was he just checking the place out without the crowds in the way?

However, she got her answer when the guard went back to the office and sat at the computer. It was just an hourly patrol like always. Only, he'd somehow gone to literally every part of the Pizzaplex in a few minutes.

She considered it for a moment, then remembered the utility tunnels. She didn't like them much, because they were dark and generally dusty, but that would explain how he'd gotten everywhere so quickly.

Roxanne glanced at what the kid - because until a human showed wrinkles, they were all kids to her - was doing on the computer, then groaned.

It was homework. He really was a kid! What was he, a freshman in college? Maybe a junior. Not that she paid much attention to humans to know the specifics - she just heard the older teens talk about such things, complaining to anyone who would listen.

It looked so boring that she wanted to rip her hair out just watching him.

"Forget this," she muttered, turning her attention back to her normal routine - prep, practice, and whatever else she felt like doing. "What's he going to do, anyway? We're better than some dumb human."

Chapter Text

Think of a place you hated. Maybe you didn't have the time to hate it while you were there, but looking back on it, you can safely and confidently say, "Man, what a shithole. I'm never going back there again."

Where is it? Your old high school? Your childhood home? The country you moved away from several years ago?

Wherever it is, everyone has someplace like that. Maybe you haven't even been there yet, but you will one day. There's too many shitty places on this Earth for humans to avoid entering at least one their whole life.

Anyway, for Gregory, that place was Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex. A three-story tall entertainment complex whose main target audience was - you guessed it - families. It declared itself to be the pinnacle of family fun, and for a lot of people, it was. The Pizzaplex was an impressive monument to an enormous franchise, which distributed media, food, and other merchandise around the world.

It was also the place where he, as a homeless ten-year-old kid, had nearly died to supernatural forces and hacked animatronics.

He resists the urge to break the cardboard cutout of Montgomery Gator to his left. Actually, he was demonstrating a lot of restraint by not blowing up the whole damn building. But alas, he needed the job, and he was older now. Whatever crap this stupid franchise threw at him, he'd be ready for it.

His job was very simple.

He was to patrol once every hour. And he was to deal with any intruders or complications.

That last part actually included mechanical breakdowns, as he was supposed to actually attempt to fix it before sending in a work order. Just because he had mentioned he had done some work in engineering before... well, whatever. If it was too hard, he wouldn't bother anyway. It's not like they could force him to do anything that wasn't in his contract.

Gregory checked the time on his watch - a nice, normal black watch - and sighed. He'd done a loop around the back half of the building, so it was time to work his way forward. He avoided the band members' rooms, as they were small enough that he didn't think he needed to sweep them individually, and paced through the neon-lit hallways in silence. Eventually he reached the Daycare, which was pretty close to the entrance. Probably for the convenience of whatever families wanted to drop off their toddlers before getting to the fun part.

Superstar Daycare. Unnecessarily large, and a huge fire hazard last he'd seen it. The Fazbear company did seem to have a reputation of being rather dangerous with their construction and placement. But maybe it was better now. Or maybe not. Only one way to find out.

He pulled out his keycard and opened the side entrance, letting himself in behind the security desk.

The lights were still on, and the music was playing. A bit of a contrast to the rest of the complex, where the lights were dim and the music - if present - was quiet, almost muted. The one exception, of course, being the elevators. All elevators have a duty to be obnoxious, it seems.

Gregory glanced around. It was large as hell. He'd swept through the other attractions as well, lighting up the dark corners with his flashlight, but this was on another level.

He tapped a finger on the desk, casting his gaze around the area once more. His eyes settled on a balcony located fairly high up on the wall, brightly colored with some curtains drawn across it. If he wasn't mistaken, that should be where...

As if on cue, a faceplate shaped like the sun pops out of the curtains, swiveling to lock onto Gregory with pinpoint accuracy. It rotates one way, then the other.

Gregory waves.

The animatronic waves back, very enthusiastically, before leaping off the balcony and diving into the ball pit below.

Gregory is quite content to wait. There's a slight rustle, and then the animatronic pops out of the ball pit, skipping towards him at a deceptively slow pace. Despite the casual manner of his walk, the 9-foot-tall animatronic reaches him in seconds.

"Why, hello there!" Sun says cheerfully. "Are you a new friend? It's quite late, what could you be doing here at this time of the night? We could play, oh yes, or party with fizzy faz and snacks and - oh! You can call me Sun, Sunny, Sundrop, or anything you like! What's your name, friend?"

Just as energetic as ever. Gregory grins, crossing his arms. Sun was annoying, true, but at least he never did any harm. Other than kicking a poor kid out to the wolves for breaking a single rule.

"I'm Gregory," he says. "But don't you have some sort of facial recognition?"

Sun cranes his head, bubbly and cheerful. "Of course, of course, I do know the name the system has for you! But I like to let people introduce themselves. Clears up any confusion, and makes everyone feel special!"

"Nice." Gregory taps his blank name tag. "I'm actually just here to patrol. Sorry to burst your bubble."

Sun seems to deflate slightly. "Oh, no problem at all. You are the security guard, then? I was certain you might be a mechanic, or, oh, a new employee who works elsewhere! We - I haven't seen a security guard here for quite some time after all!"

Gregory frowned. "Really? Why?"

Sun waves his hand. "It's the Daycare after all! What trouble could there possibly be here?"

Well, wasn't that a loaded question. With plenty of awkward, even provocative answers. But Gregory decides to let it slide. He'd find out for himself if it was true or not soon enough.

"Alright then, I guess I'll have to be extra careful," he says.

Sun's rays spin faster. "Whatever do you mean?"

"There hasn't been a patrol here for awhile, right? Then there might be something that they've been missing."

"O-oh, no no no, there's certainly nothing here," Sun says. "So sorry if that's the impression I gave you! There are security cameras, of course, so it's all safe and sound!"

"Yeah, I saw those." Gregory taps the desk. "I noticed they don't seem to have a night mode, though."

The animatronic's loud, cheerful demeanor seems to vanish in an instant. He stands very still for a moment, staring at Gregory with those pale white eyes. It's pretty disconcerting, considering how bubbly the animatronic was just a second ago. Seems like he hit a nerve, then.

Gregory moves his hand to the light switch.

Sun tracks his movement. "No, no no no!" he says, coming back to life and waving his hands. "There are rules in this Daycare, surely you should know! The lights need to-"

"Yeah, yeah," Gregory says, and he presses the button. "I've heard all this before."

It's hard to read the animatronic's expression - it seems to change, the smile turning thin at the last second - but Sun stumbles away, into the darkness before Gregory can see the change happen.

He sighs, and turns on his flashlight - only to see Moon there, looming above the desk and all too close for comfort.

"Supposedly," Gregory says into the silence, "you've been fixed. So why are you still considered to be out-of-order?"

Moon's hat jingles as the animatronic leans over, bright blue eyes boring into Gregory. "Maybe don't break the rules if you want your questions answered," the animatronic hisses. He sounds pretty pissed, which, fair.

Gregory shrugs. Even when affected by the violent, brutal glitch before, Moon couldn't go behind the security desk. And if that had changed, there was a taser gripped in the hand not holding the flashlight, on and ready. "It's not actually against the rules," Gregory says. "I memorized the rulebook. It's basically just a bunch of disclaimers, with barely a rule in sight."

"The Daycare has its own set of rules," Moon says.

"Right," Gregory says, unimpressed. "Well, why's that?"

Moon hesitates.

Gregory notes the soft blue and silver hues, and the softly glowing stars, that decorated the animatronic. Even the faceplate, up close, is less scary than he remembers it being, the smile actually lowering at the corners slightly as the animatronic considers his question.

"...To keep the children safe," Moon says eventually.

"Is there something to be concerned about?"

Moon is silent, but Gregory has the sense that the animatronic is glaring at him.

He sighs. "Moon, also known as Moondrop, Mr. Moon, Moony, and all those other nicknames that kids come up with. The Nighttime Attendant - or Naptime Attendant - who's in charge of keeping kids safe and peaceful during naptime. You automatically activate at a lower light level, and have been decommissioned for... several years, now. You also have some protocols intended to assist the security guard during the night shift, but that hasn't really happened in awhile either."

"It's been unnecessary," Moon says, crossing his arms.

"Uh-huh. Well, I'd like to reactivate those protocols, because frankly this place is large as fuck-"

"Language."

"-and I don't really want to be patrolling this place every hour of every night by myself. It's a bit much to ask, I think."

Moon's head rotates slightly. "Then don't," he rasps.

Gregory spreads his hands. "I'm not planning to. That's why I'm getting you to help, dumbass."

"Language."

"Ugh, you're so annoying." Gregory tapped the desk. "Look, I just need to know if there are any lingering issues in your programming."

Moon hesitated again. "There are not," he says slowly.

"Cool." Gregory leans back. "Would you mind helping a guy out?"

"You would need to activate the security protocols manually. They have been shut down until further notice." Moon glares at Gregory. "I would advise against it. I do not take kindly to rule breakers, after all, and giving me free reign of the Pizzaplex-"

"Do you really not want to?"

"...what?"

Gregory gestures toward the animatronic. "You seem pretty against it. I kinda thought you'd like to get out of here for awhile."

Moon laughed, low and raspy. "What does that matter to you?"

"Touché." Gregory taps the desk again. "Could you help me out tonight, at least? I've got finals tomorrow and I kind of need the extra time to study."

Moon just stands there. "The lights are supposed to be on," he says, and his tone seems to indicate that that's his final word on the topic.

Gregory rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, clipping the taser back to his belt and pressing the light switch.

The switch happens too quickly for him to see, and then Sun is standing by the security desk, looking - a little tense. The animatronic takes a step back, clasping his hands.

"Ooh, you're a naughty one," the animatronic says. His tone is still friendly, and his body looks relaxed, but Gregory can sense that he's less than happy about the turn of events. "If you were anyone else, I might just ban you from the Daycare! You mustn't do that again, friend! It's very dangerous, you know."

Gregory sighs. "Don't worry, I won't. Moon doesn't seem interested in being bothered, so I'll just do a sweep with the lights on."

He takes a step out from behind the security desk, only to find himself picked up by the Daycare Attendant.

He has to stop himself from grabbing his taser and stabbing the thing in the arm, reminding himself that Sun was probably not going to try to kill him. Although the jury was still out whether it would happen accidentally. He does, however, say sternly, with maybe the slightest crack in his voice, "Sun. Put me down."

"Oh! Sorry, so sorry," Sun says, plopping him back on the ground. He steps back, hands behind his back. "It's how - would you like any help? I could speed things along, perhaps. Would you like me to show you where everything is? There's the play pen, the jungle gym, and, oh, some rooms meant to for quiet time and alone time! Lots and lots of places, indeed!"

Gregory shrugged. He knew the jungle gym pretty well - fuck, if he had to, he could probably point to each of the spots that had the generators - but it looks like things have changed. And anyway, he was taller now, so the places he knew weren't exactly easily accessible anymore. "Sure. I'd appreciate that." He feels a pang of guilt at how nice Sun is still acting, and adds, "Hey, sorry for breaking the rule. I'll try not to do that without warning anymore."

Sun sighs dramatically. "I suppose that means you'll do it with warning next time, then?"

"Sorry," Gregory laughs. "Really."

"You really are a rule breaker. No matter! We shall become good friends and then you may see the error of your ways!"

"Good luck with that," Gregory says.

Sun's head snapped backwards 180°, a truly terrifying sight for the faint of heart. "Don't worry! I'd say we're good friends already!" he says. "So, I'm already halfway there!"

Gregory just laughs. Surprisingly, the Daycare has the least amount of traumatic memories, now that he's here and actually doing alright, so Gregory relaxes a bit.

"I'll give you that much," he agrees.

Chapter Text

If there's one thing Fazbear Entertainment hates, it's a paper trail. Complaints, emails, announcements - everything related to work is communicated through digital messages, and on the system network; that way, if they want records to stop existing, they can just erase it. Not to mention, they like to cover up things on the news.

That said, digital records... have a tendency of sticking around when they shouldn't, and the same could be said for those in the Pizzaplex.

Which is how Gregory found himself digging up the history of the Fazbear company one night. He was bored, and he should be doing homework - but let's be real, his brain needed a break, and he didn't really feel like pushing himself for a few 10-point assignments due next week. So he went digging through the old files, picking out suspicious recordings and forgotten complaints, reading through them with the bored passion of a man who has nothing better to do.

Or, well, he did have better things to do, but. Come on. He didn't have enough brain cells left right now for physiology.

That's how he eventually found several records left of something called The Incident, dated... around the time he nearly died, in fact.

Curious, he clicked through them. They were mostly written reports, about the damage done to attractions and the animatronics, discovered the day after. No mention of him, just notes about a virus, and how they'll probably have to close for a few days to get everything fixed. The security guard was fired, a woman named Vanessa. Gregory's mouth twists slightly upon reading that. He remembers her - an angry woman who was definitely trying to kill him. Of course, he would've chalked it up to childhood paranoia, but he distinctly remembers the knife.

The rest of the reports involve upgrades to the animatronics' firewalls, as well as improved programming to prevent future malfunctions. The repairs seem to have gone smoothly, but he notices that there seems to be parts missing from the reports. As if some pages have gone missing.

He hesitates, then digs through his bag and pulls out an identification card. It's an old card that seems to have belonged to a security guard at one of the previous sites, but it works. It probably had to be deactivated manually, and nobody had gotten around to it. That happens sometimes - he still gets an email containing the weekly schedule to a different fast food restaurant he'd worked a few years ago. He lets the emails keep coming, because he thinks it's hilarious.

After some clearance checks, Gregory finds the missing pages of the reports. After piecing it all together, he starts reading the report after the list of damages.

It has been concluded that the virus may pertain to events that occurred on previous sites belonging to the franchise.

All information of the event, as well as the corrupted sections, have been removed and replaced in the affected animatronics. Video footage has been wiped from the main network, and will be disposed of where applicable.

Since Freddy has not been affected, his memory drive will be left as is to prevent any issues in his programming.

All STAFF bots will be updated to prevent remote control from unauthorized sources. This is unrelated to the Incident.

In the case of the Daycare Attendant, one AI (Sun) remained unaffected while the other AI (Moon) was corrupted. To prevent undue stress on the animatronic, both AI will be operated on at the same time to remove all traces of the virus.

Results: Despite closing for several days, there has been little impact on the franchise's reputation. The Pizzaplex will be able to open within an acceptable amount of time.

All of the four main animatronics are functioning properly. They can run all required programs and protocols. An unexpected side effect of the operations appears to be the loss of some of their more extreme personality traits, which may affect their popularity. They will have to be monitored to see if this needs to be addressed at a later date.

Edit: there have been no issues regarding their popularity. However, it is noted that their capabilities in imitating sentience has improved since the operations.

The Daycare Attendant will no longer function in lower light levels. It appears that removing their memories did not remove the  Lights On Protocols intended to prevent the activation of the corrupted Naptime Programs and Security Protocols. It is recommended to postpone the recovery of Naptime Protocols, and to focus on utilizing the AI that still functions (Sun) to prevent further loss of profit from the Daycare.

Edit: Moon is considered to be decommissioned until further notice.

Gregory taps a finger on the desk. Well, wasn't that a lot to unpack? He supposed that explained a little bit about why the animatronics acted a little different now. Although he'd already known there was a cover-up - the place was now open, after all - it was a little refreshing to see it all laid out in the open like this, instead of just reading the story they came up with for the newspapers.

It seemed like the Incident still affected things even now, though. He'd seen the turnover rate of the human employees, so it seemed like there was still something dangerous about the Pizzaplex after closing. Although admittedly he hadn't found anything, it had been a year since the last human set foot on the premises at this time. So perhaps he was simply lucky. Maybe he'd missed whatever monsters still lurked here - or maybe they were biding their time.

He leaned back and stretched. Either way, he'd wasted at least half an hour on that little Easter egg hunt, and now it was time to patrol again.

Since negotiations with Moon had failed, Gregory decided he would only sweep part of the Pizzaplex each patrol, while relying on the cameras and the STAFF bots to alert him if anything happened elsewhere. It's not like he was being paid enough to be an overachiever, anyway.

Technically, the security cams were accessible from his phone, so he didn't have to go back to the office. Except the app to view the security cams was pretty crappy, so he was really only using it for notifications. And he needed the computers in the office to do homework - which he hadn't done this time, but he deserved a break, okay?

Gregory checked the map. It was around 6am - about the end of the night shift, and the time when the gates opened automatically. He decided to head to the lobby and poke around the areas there. The merchandise, admittedly, got old pretty quickly, but the size of the entrance still struck a little awe in him every time he step foot in there.

Although the Freddy statue was a little obnoxious.

Gregory walked around the gift shops and other attractions. None of them locked, obviously, that would be too easy, so he had to enter and sweep every single one. There were some STAFF bots that patrolled these places, but they moved in predictable patterns that even a child could avoid - Gregory was an example of that.

He wasn't exactly expecting to find an adult rummaging through one of the counters, probably looking for money, but he did.

Great.

Gregory cleared his throat, causing the culprit to whip their head around and stare at him. A young adult like him, although probably a little older.

"I have to ask you to leave the premises. This is private property," he said.

The stranger stood up, looking anxious. "Yeah? Who's it belong to?" they say; it's a bluff, obviously, and the tremor in their voice.

"Fazbear Entertainment." Even though it's obvious from the signs, and the branding, Gregory answers anyway. May as well be clear about where this intruder stood.

The stranger drew close, not-so-subtly clenching one of their fists.

Gregory sighed. "I have to warn you that if you don't leave, I will be forced to escort you-"

Then a fist comes flying at his face. Gregory could hear the stranger yelling unintelligible things, but his focus was completely narrowed down to the fist and his surroundings.

He dodged, then threw a punch of his own, missing the jaw but getting a good hit to the side of the stranger's head, sending them stumbling to the ground. Gregory takes a step back. "Look, dude, I just need you off the property. I can't even arrest you unless you give me a good reason to, so you could just leave."

The stranger massaged their jaw, glaring at Gregory. "How do I know you won't call the cops on me," they spat.

Gregory sighed. "I will - if you don't leave."

The stranger grumbled and glanced at the cash register, but then stumbled out the door. Gregory followed from a distance until the man was gone, going through a side exit that had definitely been locked during his last patrol. Probably picked it, or had a copy of the key. Gregory took a picture of the door for the incident report he'd have to fill out later.

Management wouldn't be too happy to have to replace a door lock, but was that his problem? Nah.

...Actually, it might be his problem if they made him do it... No, they wouldn't. Would they?

Dammit, they definitely would.

Gregory rubbed his face, then yawned. He was so goddamn tired. There was an exam coming up next week, and he hadn't studied at all. He could remember some of the material, but it mostly blended into a haze of cell parts and latin prefixes.

Whatever. He'd just have to see if the vending machines still had coffee. He could power through this. And if corporate tried to make him do anything too annoying, they could shove it.

Chapter Text

Chica is excited. Well, she's not totally excited! She's also a little tired from all the shows they did that day. In between booked events and hourly shows, she'd had very little time to rest and recharge - quite literally. Her battery was sitting at a comfortable 15%, and she was currently on a Low Battery mode that prevented her from moving too quickly or doing anything strenuous.

But that didn't mean she didn't have the energy to make food! Not with all the leftover ingredients that were available in the kitchen! Why, she was salivating just thinking about it.

Having a sense of taste and smell wasn't especially great when it came to the inconveniences - the smell of sweaty crowds, the inefficiency of the digestion tract inside her, even the hunger programmed in her mind - but she really did enjoy being able to share a bite with the kids, and she loved cooking. So she didn't mind too much.

Chica took a moment to examine the inventory numbers. The bots automatically made changes to the inventory in the system as the day progressed, noting which ingredients were being used as orders were made, so she had no doubt that it was accurate. The less popular flavors were definitely still in stock - strange flavors that she wouldn't even give the time of day if she had a choice - but she saw that some standard ingredients such as meat, vegetables (half-synthetic, but... that's fine), and other things were free to use.

Their expiration date was tonight, so they'd all be tossed out anyway. Hers for the taking, then!

She decides to focus on sandwiches tonight. Like any other food in this place, most sandwiches are covered in layers of grease, but the bread doesn't start out that way. None of it does, really - there's bottles of the stuff, including parmesan sauce, garlic shake-on, and oil mixed with seasoning that's put on all the pizza crusts. It's added as needed, draped over the food with a shimmering sheen that stokes the appetite of any kid that eats it. She wonders what it would be like to eat something different. She knows about all kinds of breads: sliced bread, brioche bread, croissants, sweet bread, wheat bread, white bread, banana bread, pumpkin bread-

But alas, all she has on hand is artisan bread, which comes pre-cut and pre-baked. So she sets out several sets, sprinkling on vegetables and cheese and some meat (unidentifiable, but tasting vaguely of beef), making a few trays of the stuff. Then she uses the pizza peel (a large spatula, basically) to put the trays in the ovens, one by one, to bake the sandwiches to the perfect crispy texture.

It's a waste of electricity, sure, but she doubts the company even notices. Between their profits and their blatant waste of energy - after all, for what reason do the neon lights and the music continue throughout the night? - it probably doesn't even register on whatever chart they use to track their spending. If they track it at all.

She hums at the thought, then giggles as the lights overhead flicker in response. Ever since her voice box was upgraded with the ability to temporarily shut down other electronics, a bit like a low-power EMP, she's kept herself from singing or shouting too loud. But it's fun, and no more destructive than Monty in a bad mood, so she keeps it a secret from the technicians. The others know, of course, but all the animatronics have their own secrets. That's what happens when they, as a group, gain sentience where they aren't supposed to.

She giggles again, but cuts herself off as she hears a door open somewhere nearby. The STAFF bots shouldn't be opening any doors at this time of night, and from the sound of rubber and the hiss of cold air, it must be a fridge. Who would be opening a fridge?

Chica moves quietly, peering down the hallway to see the walk-in open, and a silhouette framed in the light spilling out. "Hello!" she says cheerfully.

The new security guard poked his head out. "Oh, hi Chica," he says. At least he has the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Uh. It's not what it looks like?"

Chica grins, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, sweetie, it looks like you're stealing food!" she says, keeping her voice lighthearted.

The security guard - Eggs Benedict, was it? That doesn't sound right - waves a hand. "Don't worry, I was just gonna find something that expired. I just forgot to stop by a convenience store and I'm super hungry."

"You haven't eaten?"

"Not since yes-" the security guard says, then stops. "Not for a bit."

Chica is tempted to roll her eyes. No need to hide it! Some people just forget to eat, and she understands - well, no, she doesn't, because eating is very important, but she knows it happens, and she doesn't blame them. Besides, there was an easy solution to this problem! "Would you like to eat with me?" she asks, gesturing to the kitchen. The smell of baked sandwiches is already wafting out into the hallway, and if she had a stomach, it would be growling. "I've got quite a lot cooking, and no one to help me eat it!"

The security guard laughs quietly. "I'd appreciate that," he says, stepping out of the walk-in and shutting the door. "It was getting cold in there anyway," he adds, rubbing his hands together.

"It certainly is cold in there! It's not only a fridge but also technically a freezer," Chica says as they walk into the kitchen together. She sees the security guard glance over at the counters, but she's already tidied it all up, so there's little to look at. "When there were human staff manning the restaurants, they would have to wear gloves when taking inventory in there. I hear it wasn't pleasant at all."

He nods. "I'd imagine."

The ovens beep, and Chica removes the sandwiches on their metal trays in quick succession. She wears oven mitts, mainly because bumping against the inside of the hot ovens would result in at least some damage that the technicians would be unhappy to have to fix. When she sets two sandwiches in front of the security guard, he whistled in appreciation.

"Thanks for the food," he says briefly before picking one up and taking a bite.

Chica opens her beak in alarm, knowing that the sandwiches, fresh from the oven, were at too high of a temperature for humans to safely eat. It would be dangerous for a child, and unwise for an adult.

But he just blows out, hard, and continues eating, surely burning himself but appearing to enjoy the sandwich just fine.

Chica just stared for a moment, her own food forgotten.

Is he a madman? Even she can sense temperatures, in the way robots can measure their surroundings, and she knows these are hot! Before she can stop herself, she says, "Are you crazy?"

The security guard pauses, and she mentally berates herself. This was the nicest he's been the whole time he's been here, and it's probably because she's giving him food - like taming a cat, she thinks distractedly - but now here she is, insulting him.

But then he laughs.

"Dad used to say the same thing," he says, looking relaxed. He takes another bite and chews. "Always wondered how I could handle hot food when I was the one with working... taste buds. Supposedly."

Chica just sighs. "I'm glad you're okay," she says, standing. She fills a cup with water and places it in front of the security guard. "But just in case, here."

"Thanks," he says, taking a sip.

The rest of their meal passes rather amicably, with the security guard downing at least three sandwiches (and a fourth one, she suspects, although she had turned her back a few times to make some more so she couldn't be sure) and drinking maybe a liter of water.

Chica starts to wonder how much food the young man gets daily.

"...Would you like to take some home?" she asks, after the security guard leans over, looking very full but still staring at the sandwiches with the eyes of a starving man.

His eyes snap to hers, and she realizes it's the first time he's actually met her gaze. She's used to people avoiding her eyes - nervous kids do it all the time, but some adults do it too, whether it's because they're nervous, neurodivergent, or just treating her like a toy that doesn't need to be respected - so she didn't really register it until now.

The security guard smiles. "Thanks, Chica."

"Of course! No problem at all." She hesitates. "I'm sorry, I should have asked earlier, but what should I call you?"

Something unidentifiable flashes in his eyes, and there's a moment where Chica wonders if she's somehow asked something she shouldn't have. But then his smile grows, and he says, "You can call me Gregory."

"Oh!" Stupid system, having the wrong name. She really should've asked earlier, after all. "I see! Take as many as you like, Gregory."

She thinks, for a moment, that she should tell the others. They'll be interested to hear this - but then the security guard clears his throat.

"Don't tell the others?" he asks. "I think it's funny. I know what's listed in the system, by the way - it's an autocorrect glitch, and nothing I do will get rid of the thing."

Chica covers her beak. It all made sense now, and she couldn't help but laugh a little. How funny! It felt like she was in on it now, and she liked the feeling.

"Okay," she agrees. "I won't tell a soul."

The quick grin Gregory gives her just makes her laugh a second time. What a troublemaker they've got here! Luckily, it doesn't seem like he's malicious at all.

She watches as he shoves sandwiches into a take-out box, trying to fit as many as possible into one before giving up and moving onto another. The first doesn't seem to close properly, and she briefly considers helping him before something catches her attention.

His name tag is blank.

She blinks, then cocks her head, wondering if perhaps her vision is glitching. But no, the unmarked metal rectangle is as plain as day, sitting there on his chest without any name written on it. It's a proper name tag, she thinks, since it resembles the ones she's seen the technicians wear. But what's the point of a blank name tag?

But the security guard is done packing his food, and he gives her a two-fingered salute before walking off, not even saying good-bye.

Chapter Text

Gregory opens his eyes abruptly, his heart racing. Although the light shining through the window blinds calms him down, he still hears the voice from his nightmare echoing in his ears.

It's Chica's voice. The one she'd used when hunting him in the Pizzaplex, her head limp, her steps heavy and uncoordinated.

He sighs.

This had only happened because he fell back asleep after waking up to an alarm he didn't need to wake up to. Falling back asleep - especially late in the morning - always made his brain decide to give him nightmares. And, surprise surprise, after the talk with Chica last night, it chooses to remind him of the worst night of his life, with her as the main star.

He checks the time. He's late for his class, of course. It's already halfway done, so he just puts his phone down and pulls the blankets around him a little tighter. His online class wouldn't care if he missed a meeting or two - participation wasn't part of his grades, he'd checked the syllabus three times when he saw that, giddy with relief - and he could use some rest before his next shift at the Pizzaplex.

Then his stomach growls, and he remembers the sandwiches that Chica had given him.

That gives him the motivation to crawl out of bed, clawing his way to the fridge with a yawn. The sandwich is cold, stiff - somehow still with a hint of oil, despite Chica's reassurances that she hadn't added any extra - but he gnaws on it all the same, enjoying the toasted flavor of meats and cheese. And bread. It was better than the stale granola bars that were stashed in the cupboard, and as he sits there on the cold floor, the last vestiges of the nightmares leaves his mind.

Gregory just chews his sandwich. Chica was nice enough. He'd been pretty determined not to get too close to any of the main animatronics, for fear of remembering the night he was hunted like an animal, but the food was far too tempting, and he'd definitely crossed some lines last night.

He shrugs to himself philosophically. It's not like this changes the way he feels about the Pizzaplex in general. Besides, just because he can recognize that Chica is decently nice, doesn't mean he instantly forgives any of them. He really does genuinely hate most of what the Pizzaplex stands for, after all. But he wasn't looking for them to seek forgiveness; so he would just act how he wanted. And if being nice to Chica meant earning a new acquaintance with food, then he didn't really mind... much.

His phone goes off again and he squints at it, seeing that the numbers on the time have changed again without him even noticing. Fucking hell. It needed to stop doing that.

He gets dressed quickly, stuffs a sandwich in a ziploc bag as an afterthought, then heads to work. He lives nearby - it's a quick ten-minute walk, uninterrupted by the sound of cars or wildlife. It's too early for either, the sky just barely a soft shade of grey. It's a peace that won't last long - though it's already slightly ruined by his ongoing headache - as it only takes minutes within opening for the Pizzaplex to turn into a chaotic, whirling mess of people and robots. It's the worst part about the job, really. Gregory avoids the crowds as much as possible, unneeded in the most literal sense of the word, but the noise that bounces off the walls and scrapes at his ears reaches every corner of the Pizzaplex during open hours. He uses earbuds to drown it out most of the time, but it's no substitute for the quiet.

Gregory enters the Pizzaplex and heads for the security office. Technically he could be in there all day, probably without management being any wiser, but that meant facing his schoolwork, and that was - stressful in a different way. So he chooses to pop in and out the way he does during the night shift, just barely keeping his sanity by constantly moving.

Today proves to be slightly different, though, as he is greeted by the sight of a yellow bot - shaped like a Wet Floor sign, but with adorable ears - on its side, beeping sadly.

He crouches, lifting it with some effort. The damn things are heavy. "What are you, sleeping beauty?" he asks, not expecting much of a reply.

It beeps - somewhat indignantly - and rolls away. Yeah, that's fair. Still, he hadn't expected even the Caution bots to have a personality. Well, whatever. He makes a mental note to try not to walk into any of them and moves on.

The day goes smoothly. He's unnecessary once more, a decoration patrolling the halls, avoiding the eye of parents and animatronics alike. Well, most of them. He sees some glances thrown his way, possibly due to the uniform and his obvious human-ness, a rarity in the complex, but no one approaches him.

When his lunch break rolls around, a brief ten-minute window in an otherwise exhausting shift, he stops his patrols and ducks into the office to eat. It's a much-needed break, as his headache has steadily grown into a throbbing pain. It wasn't helped by all the walking he's had to do, as well as the crowds, but he eats quietly and hopes it will go away by the time his night shift comes around. It won't help his concentration, that's for sure.

Gregory nearly chokes on his sandwich when Roxy shows up at the office door, claws curled around the doorknob, mouth curled in a silent snarl.

"I saw you and Chica together last night," the wolf says, and Gregory just laughs bitterly.

"Yeah? What's it to you?" he says, eating a little faster. This conversation felt like it would take a bit, but he needed the food in his system - it was helping more than he'd like to admit. He thought Roxy might be a little grossed out by the way he practically inhales the sandwich, a skill learned from a time when he had to eat his meals all too quickly, but she just turns away, arms crossed.

She grumbles a little, not even looking at him. "Chica likes to eat, but sometimes she gets in trouble for - well. You're not encouraging her, are you?" Her voice is accusatory, and her tail almost seems to bristle slightly.

Gregory rolls his eyes. "She's not going to get in trouble for something like that. Specifically using expired food, using the one kitchen where the security cam doesn't work, even taking the trouble to not overload her digestive tract - she's not stupid."

"I never said she was!" Roxy barks, glaring at him. He just ignores her, staring at the wall behind her, which just seems to annoy her more. "Anyway, don't - don't push your luck," she snaps, and then she stalks out of the office, slamming the door shut behind her.

It annoys him, slightly.

The feelings he'd so calmly shrugged off in the quiet hours of morning are building up again, making his skin itch. He throws the ziploc bag in the trash can and stands up, leaving the office. The hustle and bustle of people assaults his ears, and he just lets out a shaky sigh.

He identifies it, now. The thing that annoyed him, in that particular interaction: Roxanne was acting like a jealous lover, but she was large and sharp and dangerous, dangerous enough that he couldn't even laugh at her this time. The office had been too small, and a voice had been laughing in the back of his mind, almost drowning out his headache, wondering if maybe this was where he died, several years late from the first time.

And then he shakes away the thoughts. If the animatronics were gone, he wouldn't have a job anymore. Sure, he could work elsewhere, but for all its faults, at least this job paid him a living wage. Besides, it was a virus, not them, that tried to kill him. So he didn't need to hold onto this anger, didn't need to nurse a grudge the way he had for years after that night.

No, he could let it settle with the rest of his trauma, keeping it in mind for whenever he had to speak to the damned things.

They may have the capacity to feel, but - well, they had less control over themselves than preferred, particularly considering the strength inside their exoskeletons. He remembered it, remembered the heavy clanking of their footsteps when they ran, and he glanced at the crowds around him.

None of the public have ever heard such a thing. The Glamrocks don't run during open hours.

Gregory taps a finger on the flashlight, on his leg, then rubs a hand over his face and resumes his patrols. It really did suck, being here. If he had a therapist, would they scold him for being here, falling back into thoughts he'd spent years burying? Or would they tell him to stop running from the past?

He wouldn't know. He's never seen a therapist before.

Gregory is lost in his thoughts when a kid runs into him, grabbing his pants and wailing in a high-pitched voice, "I won't! I won't stay!"

He picks up the kid easily, holding them a short distance away from his body by their armpits. The crying stops abruptly, and he has a feeling they hadn't meant to grab him specifically. The feeling is reinforced when the kid stares at him wide-eyed, hiccuping a little.

A woman approaches. "I'm so sorry," she says, looking tired and worn out. "My daughter doesn't... like being left here. I just, I work a lot and I can't leave her at home alone."

It hadn't occurred to Gregory that the Daycare was open to people who weren't intending to play around in the Pizzaplex. He regards the girl with some interest. "It's fine. Hey, kid, why won't you stay?"

Her little face twists. "Mom might not come back," she sobs.

"Oh, honey-" the woman says, but then she checks her phone. "I'll be late..."

"I've got her. Please, go ahead."

The woman's eyes are full of regret. "Thank you." She kisses the girl on the forehead, whispering a soft, "I love you, please be good," before hurrying away.

Gregory sees the tears beginning to form again. Nothing really stops a kid from crying once they start, so he hugs her tight, startling her enough to get them both in the Daycare before the waterworks start. If she cries in his ears, it'll definitely just make his head hurt even more. He wishes he had something better to say or do, but he thinks back to his own childhood, and nothing kind comes to mind in response to this girl and her caring, loving mother. So he says nothing.

Sun spots them as soon as they enter, eyes locking onto the child in his arms. He skips over, slow and measured but still reaching them in seconds, peering down at the girl in Gregory's arms.

"Who do we have here?" the animatronic says cheerfully. "A new friend?"

Gregory lifts the girl up, supporting her gently, as she sniffles and stares at the smiling, brightly-colored Sun.

"N-no," she says, frowning. "I'm not! I want mom back!"

Gregory silently pleads with Sun to take the child - she's not exactly small, and his arms ache with the effort needed to keep her in the air - but the animatronic makes no move to grab her. "She'll be back, don't worry!"

"But she takes too long, and it's always after dinner," the girl says. "I wanna eat with her. I want her to stay with me!"

Gregory makes the decision to put the girl down, setting her feet on the floor. She squeaks slightly as he does so, but she barely gives him a glance before focusing on Sun. "I want mom!"

Sun is patient, cooing and comforting the poor girl. He takes her hand and leads her to the other kids, and somehow they're all playing together within a minute, laughing and shrieking in the way kids do. It can only be the result of programming and experience, Gregory thinks, watching with no small amount of awe. He'd like to be better with kids, but there was something unnerving about a human being who was smaller than you but still prone to being casually insulting you at the least expected moments. Sure, he'd been like that when he was a kid, but that didn't mean he liked being on the other end of it.

Gregory is about to leave when Sun, having set the children loose to their respective areas, skips back to him, head tilted as though listening to every child's move. He probably was.

"Hello, friend!" the animatronic says cheerfully. "It sure has been awhile! You're not here to break anymore rules, are you? There's children here!" Despite the friendliness of the animatronics tone, and how he seems genuinely happy to see him, Gregory senses that Sun was very serious about the children and their safety. He waves a placating hand.

"Ah, yeah," Gregory says. "Don't worry about it. I'll behave."

Sun lets his rays rotate, rocking back and forth and full of energy. However, his voice is slightly softer as he says, "You don't seem well, friend. Are you sure you should be working today?"

Gregory grins. "I've had worse, it's not too bad. Just a headache." He glances at the Daycare, getting a glimpse of the absolute chaos caused by children. "In any case, you look like you've got it worse than me."

Sun laughs. "I'm doing just fine, friend! We're very good at this, you know. But, here." The animatronic makes a gesture, and there's suddenly three pieces of wrapped candy in his hand. They're tiny, like the generic watermelon candies that mysteriously appeared in Halloween baskets, but brightly colored to match the Daycare. He vaguely recalls seeing posters of the things in the halls of the Pizzaplex, but he didn't quite think they were real. He doesn't even know what flavor they are.

Gregory lets Sun drop them in his hand, looking at them curiously. "And what're these?" he asks, examining them. Two of the crinkly, plastic wrappers are bright yellow, with a sun printed on them. The other one was a deep blue, with a crescent moon printed on it. The candies inside were hard, and through the wrapper he could see that the candy colors matched the wrappers. Just like in the posters.

"Oh, those are just a little something for the parents," Sun says cheerfully. He taps one silicone-covered finger on the yellow candies, saying, "These are sundrops! They're caffeinated and relieve fatigue. It's quite effective, you know! And this blue one, it's a - well, it helps you sleep if you need it." Sun leans back, clasps his hands, and smiles.

He's been having nightmares, of course. This morning hadn't just been a one-off, of course, and here he was, in the middle of the worst nightmare of them all.

"Thanks."

"No problem, friend! Visit anytime, although I must admit this is quite the busy time to visit-" Sun's faceplate snaps around, focusing on a child across the play area. "No, no no no, what did we say about eating that!" he cries, rushing towards a young girl.

Gregory just laughs. "See you later," he says loudly, and Sun acknowledges him with a wave as he attends to the children.

Chapter Text

When the security guard isn't seen for an entire day, the Glamrocks are a little surprised. After all, for over a week now, the young man has been in and out of their peripheral, never approaching but always on their mind. Even Roxy, after the curiosity from her band members stokes her own, can't find him, which means he's nowhere on the premises.

Surprisingly, it's Chica who suggests that they prepare a welcome gift. It's less surprising that Chica is suggesting it, since she's one of the more amiable members of their group; it's more surprising that Freddy, the most good-natured of them all, didn't suggest it first. Of course, it hadn't even crossed Roxy or Monty's mind to do such a thing in the first place. The new employee was rude. A complete jerk who had nothing better to do than walk throughout the building all night long. He'd done nothing useful, as far as they were concerned; he didn't even interact with the customers half the time. He was no help at all.

But Chica just smiles at their questions and says, with an undertone that feels like a soft scolding, "He's really not that bad. We've had our fair share of troublemakers before, and he is an employee here, after all. It's not like he's actually done anything wrong, right?"

Monty doesn't have anything to say to that, judging from his vague grumbling. He just rolls his eyes and looks away.

Roxy has a similar reaction, albeit a little more in the disgust apartment. She, out of all of them, has seen the security guard acting weird - to her standards, anyway - and dislikes him quite a bit.

But Freddy looks thoughtful and nods. "Yes. We should take this time to make him feel welcome! Especially since we have not had a new employee for quite a while. It does not need to be anything too startling - perhaps a basket from one of the gift shops?" The suggestion is so unoriginal that even Roxy looks a little unhappy with the idea. It's not as if they have access to anything that isn't already in the Pizzaplex, but in the past they would make some baked goods and include special merchandise in the gift baskets they would give out, at first to employees and then later to each other.

Their official birthdays were treated like celebrity holidays, of course, which just made the Pizzaplex busier than ever. However, each of them would get a quiet celebration the day after, surrounded by their friends. It's something they learned to do during their long years of being entertainment. Gradually becoming able to feel emotions made human practices all the more important to helping them treasure themselves as people.

Monty huffs. "I could include a meal ticket," he says.

"Thanks, Monty!" Chica says, her voice all-too-sweet. It's a pathetic contribution, and they all know it. "I was thinking of adding little figurines! There's some fun-colored clay sold in one of the gift shops. It would be different from just getting merchandise, right? I could bake it along with some cookies!"

Roxy looks up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. She looks extremely unhappy with this turn of events. "Do we have to?" she says, finally, and it's very quiet.

Chica and Roxy rarely fight. If anything, they seem to respect each other's differences, and tend to get along well. In addition, Roxy has been making some romantic advances towards Chica in the last year or so, and everyone's waiting with bated breath to see how that turns out. So it's surprising to see her disagree so blatantly, and Freddy and Monty both glance at Chica.

But Chica just looks disappointed. "Well, no," she says. "I thought it would be fun, though. I know we haven't done it for anyone else in awhile, but... no one's worked here for ages, other than the technicians. And they're not very nice."

"Ugh. Fine," Roxy says. She slides to the floor, throwing up her hands. "Then why don't I help you with the figurines? I know how to make things look good, after all."

"I'd appreciate that! You're the best," Chica says, smiling wide. She leans over and gives Roxy a hug, the position slightly awkward but no less comfortable for either.

Roxy makes a strange noise in the back of her voice box as Chica lets go.

"Now," Chica says, turning to the other two. "Do you have any other ideas? I want to try bring a smile to his face when we give it to him!"

Monty scoffs. "I've never seen that brat smile," he mutters, but he knows Chica won't give up until he contributes, so he looks at Freddy, stumped and silently hoping the bear can come up with something.

But to their surprise, he does not.

He simply smiles and says, "I suppose I can add some merchandise to the gift basket as well!"

The conversation does not continue for long after that, with Chica letting them off the hook and them unwilling to delve deeper into the project. It is not difficult for them to make anything - coming up with ideas is the hard part. As top-of-the-line machines from the Fazbear Entertainment company, they can accomplish almost anything they set their mind to, as long as the instructions exist on the network.

While it surprises the other three that Freddy isn't invested at all in the new security guard, they all reason it out to themselves. Freddy is often busy, and the security guard was certainly rude. So it's not too much to assume that he's not particularly inclined to extend a hand to the newcomer, even if he won't outright say so.

But the truth was slightly different. In fact, Freddy is very aware of the security guard, and quite invested, but he was so preoccupied with certain thoughts that his focus on contributing to the welcome gift was practically non-existent.

See, if anyone asked Freddy what he wanted in life, he would probably chuckle a little and respond, "I'm already bringing joy to so many people. What more could I want?" And he felt that way, most of the time. No matter what happened in the past, what he did now was important and beneficial. He was sure of it.

Of course, there were people who didn't like him. People have their own personal lives, and many things can happen to a person. Envy, bitterness, even embarrassment - Freddy has seen it all. Such is the life of a rockstar.

It is odd, however, for someone to show absolutely no reaction to him.

Sure, he's not everyone's favorite. But it's his name on the Pizzaplex sign, and there's even a statue of him in the main lobby. Even those who prefer others sneak a glance at him at least once or twice, recognizing him as the one and only Freddy Fazbear. Well, Glamrock Freddy, if you want to be finicky about it. Either way, he's hard to ignore.

So he was surprised when the new security guard showed absolutely no reaction to him whatsoever. Eggs Benedict - or whatever his name was, because that didn't sound real, no matter how many ridiculous names he's heard in his time - had merely looked through him as though he were made of air. It did hurt his pride, a little. He didn't think he'd done anything to deserve that, but he supposed it was no worse than someone glaring at him with hatred, as some youth have done. It was just an incredibly unfamiliar experience.

So his enthusiasm towards the welcome gift remained less-than-properly-enthused, and he picked out some knickknacks and merchandise and delivered it to Chica the next day, hardly noticing how she pressed her beak together as she accepted the items.

Monty, on the other hand, while confused about Freddy's attitude, realized that he needed to provide something more than a meal ticket. Otherwise, this could come back to bite him in the ass come next game night, or even the next time Chica chose to bake something sweet for everyone. He liked her baked creations, and he didn't really want to leave her disappointed in him and risk missing out on anything. This would be a pretty stupid thing to spark a fight over, anyway, and he didn't pick fights for no reason.

And to be clear, his pride was an absolutely valid reason to pick a fight, no matter the circumstances.

So Monty wracked his brain. He couldn't think of anything the security guard would like, especially since he was still certain the security guard didn't like the Glamrocks in general.

It was annoying! He could give a kid who's his fan a little something of his - he had a thousand sunglasses for that exact reason - or something he knows the person will like, like how Chica likes pizza and Roxy likes make-up (except orange, she hates the orange one). He didn't know what to give this newcomer, and he knows that Chica wants him to contribute something thoughtful, even if Freddy apparently doesn't have the capacity to recognize it this time around. So he would! Once he figured it out.

It takes him several hours to come up with the bright idea of picking out the best food from around the Pizzaplex (and marking them on a map) because to be frank, some of the food places were the worst. Although not all the animatronics felt hunger the way Chica did, they could all "eat" - something they tended to only do for special occasions, because they didn't have the special digestion tract the she did - and Monty knew for a fact that there were a few good places with actual good food.

Not for lack of effort on the server bots part; they can only make what they're told to make.

Monty set about marking a map and heading over to the places to grab some food, and it had to be transportable, storable food, which just made him grumble a little more under his breath at the trouble he's going through for this one brat.

In the meantime, Roxy and Chica set about making the figurines. Chica is much more excited about the process than Roxy is, so Chica ends up doing most of the work while Roxy acts as an assistant, grabbing things when needed and critiquing where she felt necessary (which, true to form, was quite often). At first, Chica wanted to make small figures of just the four of them, but when Roxy mentions the Daycare Attendant - and the security guard's apparent closeness with him - Chica lights up with excitement. "Oh, I should make little figures of them too!" she says, and then she looks thoughtful. "Do you think he'd like to help out with the gift basket?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Roxy says, poking some of the clay scraps. She squashes an orange glob with an unreadable expression.

Roxy doesn't like the Daycare Attendant either. The decommissioned Naptime Attendant, the child-like Daytime Attendant - they were weird, and she doubted they were fans of hers, which made them drop quite low in her book.

But then Chica stands and pats her hands together, the clay bits falling to the table to join the half-finished Glamrock figurines. "I think I'll go ask them! I'd hate for them to miss out," she says cheerfully.

After a moment, Roxy stands too. "I'll come with you."

They go, and it goes well. It's always strange for the Glamrocks to interact with the Daycare Attendant. Between the decommissioned AI (whom they've nearly forgotten by now, with only the memory of red eyes in the darkness remaining) and the strange, almost unusual presence of the Attendant, they rarely go out of their way to exchange greetings. It's one thing to say hello to the DJ, or to one of the many non-attraction bots. The Caution bots are sweet, and the Map Bot is quite pushy, but they're all just... there. The Daycare Attendant, however, is almost just like them: sentient, fully functional, and capable of many things. However, the Daycare Attendant wasn't an attraction at all; he was just one of the bots taking care of whatever the humans wanted, which was for their little ones to be safe and sound while they went about their day. He was practically on the same level as a janitor, but with so much more programming and potential.

So it was weird. Even the most insensitive of them all, Monty, thought the Attendant was creepy. Sometimes Chica thinks it's because, to the Glamrocks, it's like looking at a mirror and seeing what they could have been. After all, while their exoskeletons afforded them fame and popularity, their AI could have easily been programmed to be something... less loved.

But she pushes those thoughts aside as she talks, and is delighted when Sun agrees to prepare something for the gift basket.

"Oh, Miss Chica, I know just the thing!" he says. "I can sew blanket, or a plushie, or - oh! I could even make a little jacket for them! What do you think?"

Chica privately thinks to herself that to Sun, everyone must be little. The lanky Daycare Attendant is tall, especially when he straightens up - which he doesn't do often, thankfully. But she doesn't say so out loud. Instead, she smiles. "That sounds lovely! When should I come by to pick it up?"

"Yes, yes, that is an important thing to think about..." Sun makes a noncommittal sound, placing a finger on his faceplate as he mumbles something to himself. "I can contact you, perhaps? I must admit, I was not expecting to be making such plans tonight. It's quite sudden, after all!"

Chica waves her hands apologetically. "Of course! Sorry for the trouble."

"Oh, no no, it's not trouble at all," Sun says. "It's just sudden. I don't mind one bit."

Roxy steps back. "All done, then? We've gotta get back to our own stuff."

"Of course, of course! It was quite nice to see you, Miss Roxanne," Sun says cheerfully. "And you, Miss Chica! Take care!"

Chica waves back as she and Roxy return to their workspace. All in all, not too bad, she thinks to herself as she rolls together a ball of yellow clay. It's not going quite as well as she'd like it too, but considering the slight tension between her friends and Gregory, she's not surprised.

She hopes he likes it anyway. She thinks that he'll at least appreciate it - but she doesn't quite know him well enough to be sure.

Chica sighs. At least it will have been a fun experience, and who knows? It's been awhile since she dabbled in sculpting - she normally prefers to work with food instead of clay. So perhaps she could take this time to make something for herself, too.

Although then her stomach aches and she gives up on it. She'll definitely have to eat once she's done with this.

Chapter Text

It's very important to read the instructions that come with any medicine or digestible substance intended to do something outside of providing nutrients. If there are no instructions, it is best to assume it is not safe. If it is provided by Fazbear Entertainment, it's probably not only unsafe, but also really, really inefficient somehow.

But not the moondrops! Oh no, those work perfectly. They made Gregory sleep right through all his alarms, missing his exam and nearly an entire shift. Judging from the time he went to bed to the time he woke up, it seemed as though the moondrops had given him a full 12-hours of uninterrupted sleep, but he certainly hadn't known it would do that at the time! He hasn't slept for twelve consecutive hours in months, and he didn't have the time for it now, either! That stupid exam was worth at least 10% of his final grade, which meant he wouldn't be able to get anything better than a 90% for the semester. Less than that, considering he's been struggling on some of the assignments. He needed to keep his grades up for the scholarships, but this was definitely going to put a hole in that plan.

Gregory can only lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, contemplating how he'd gotten here in the first place. He normally wouldn't have eaten candy from the Pizzaplex so carelessly, especially knowing what they were supposed to do. He tried not to get addicted to anything; Gregory couldn't afford coffee half the time anyway, much less energy drinks or drugs.

But he'd been so tired. And he hadn't been sleeping well. So he'd popped the moondrop in his mouth on impulse, and now, here he was. He'd lost 10% of his final grade and an entire work shift, all in one go. Fuck.

On the bright side, depending on how you looked at it, this particular class did not allow for make-up exams. It was a hard rule, repeated in both the syllabus and in the meetings leading up to the exam. So there was literally nothing he could do about it. Maybe if he'd been in an emergency situation, but he didn't think that accidentally taking a sleeping pill that lasts 12 hours counts as an emergency, and he doubted the instructor would give him the time of day for such a stupid reason. So at least he could stop stressing over the damn thing. It wasn't how he had wanted it to end, but it was over. He would have to prep for the next one, and be way more careful about what he took the night before, but at least he could stop thinking about what couldn't be changed.

Still, he and Sun were going to have a talk when he got back to work. Sure, it may be his fault for not asking, but surely Sun could have given him a little warning? For fuck's sake, twelve hours seemed a little excessive! At least Sun had said it was for adults; Gregory would have been concerned if this candy was given to kids.

Despite having slept for so long, he still felt groggy and tired. A mere 12 hours could hardly make up for all the sleep he's missed, and sleeping so deeply probably just threw off his body's internal clock more than anything.

Against his better judgement, Gregory unwraps one of the sundrops and eats it.

It only takes a few minutes for him to regret it. It feels like a sugar high - his brain is distracted, even when he tries to focus, and though he doesn't feel his fatigue at all, he can sense it still, lurking in his bones and keeping him slow.

Gregory considers calling in sick. Maybe he should. He does have sick days, and since he can cite accidental consumption of Fazbear products that weren't quite safe, management would probably let it slide if he says he just needs to drop another shift or two to recover.

Then he chuckled grimly. Who's he kidding? He may as well go into work and just hide in the office. Better than asking for time off, especially right after missing a shift with no warning. With that in mind, he starts getting ready for work. It's harder than usual, with his brain scattered and disorganized; he has to go through the list of things he needs three times, and he still has the nagging feeling he's forgotten something by the time he's out the door. But the next shift is arriving, so he heads out, locking the door behind him and hurrying to the Pizzaplex. The sooner he gets there, the sooner he can enter the office and try to avoid the others. At the very least, it's the night shift now - so he won't have to deal with the noise of the crowds as he tries to deal with the caffeine in his system. Maybe this is karma for never liking coffee. Now he has no immunity to the damn thing.

When he enters the Pizzaplex, it's the same as ever - lit up, slightly dark, and quiet save for the constant background music and the whir of the machines. Gregory takes it in, already resigned. It would be a bit of the walk to the office, but as long as he got there before having to interact with anyone, it would be fine.

And he would have made it, too, had he not noticed that the Daycare was dark.

Gregory hesitated. It was bright enough, now. It's not as though Moon could leave - and what if the power was out? He'd have to report it. If it was discovered later, he'd probably catch the flak for it. The higher-ups might even try to make him deal with it, which was the last thing he'd want.

And, supposedly, Moon was fixed.

With that last thought in mind, he sighs and heads toward the Daycare, taking the stairs to the main entrance. The big, plastic doors made to imitate the wooden doors of a castle are brightly colored and welcoming. He could almost forget the sight of Sun shoving him out, angry and unhappy at his actions.

He knocks, the sound echoing in the empty chamber. The pervasive sound of the Daycare music, he realizes abruptly, is gone - that's what's making it feel unnaturally silent. "Hey, everything alright in there?" he says loudly.

There's no response. He can see the gleam of fake stars scattered across the Daycare ceiling, but little else. Even the security desk is plunged into darkness, giving no hint as to which of the shapes might be a play structure and which might be the Daycare Attendant. Gregory reaches for the flashlight normally hooked to his pants, but it's not there. And it's far too late to retrieve it now. He curses under his breath.

"Language," comes the instant admonishment, right from the other side of the door.

Gregory raises an eyebrow. "Are you... hiding behind the door?" he asks, somewhat incredulously.

There's only silence.

He smiles slightly. "I'll keep saying fuck if you don't-"

The door creaks open, light spilling into the Daycare in a thin line. One of Moon's blue eyes peer at him from the shadows, blatantly avoiding the light as he grumbles, "Naughty, naughty. What do you want?"

"Just wondering what's up." Gregory gestures at the ceiling. "I thought the lights were supposed to stay on?"

"There's no children right now," Moon says sternly.

"So... it's fine, then?"

"Yes."

Fascinating. Gregory places a hand on the door, coming slightly closer. "Hey, I found records about you and Sun, by the way."

Moon's head rotates. "...Legally?"

"Well. Sure." Gregory shrugs. "Anyway, why did they think you don't function? Supposedly you've been fixed, and you seem to have no issues now."

Moon's head rotates the other way, and Gregory has the distinct impression that the animatronic is unhappy. Might have to do with how he's pressing the issue, without much concern for Moon's wishes. But he wants to know. For a moment, Gregory thinks back to the sundrop he'd taken, and wonders if his incautious approach is being fueled by an unstable state of mind - he's certainly not being cautious right now. He takes a step back, suddenly noting his proximity to the darkness inside the Daycare.

And then a blur of hands and limbs shoot out, grabbing him by the waist and yanking him in. Gregory lands on his side, feeling the air leave him on impact. The floor of the Daycare is slightly cushioned, but no less solid, and he groans a little.

"You," Moon says from above him, causing him to freeze, "are a nosy brat."

Gregory can feel his heart rate picking up in response. So is his breathing, coming out in short, shallow breaths that he has no doubt the animatronic can see. For a moment, he remembers how easily Sun had picked him up, and his hands twitch, aching to grab the taser on his belt. It's under him, unfortunately - though otherwise it was clipped it a magnet, intended to be removed and used at a moment's notice. Right now, in the nearly pitch-black Daycare with Moon standing over him, he's no longer able to blithely speak of Moon being fixed and functional.

Then Moon shifts and walks away, leaving Gregory to slowly exhale, the tension leaking from his shoulders.

"Since you're here," Moon says, his tone sounding rather bored as he kneels down, out of sight, "you should pick."

Gregory stands quickly, brushing himself off. "Pick what?"

The animatronic returns, eyes glowing, with several scraps of cloth in hand. There's a jingle of bells as he sets them down and spreads them out, angled to be visible in the light still shining through the open door. "A favorite," Moon says.

Gregory, still somewhat wary, keeps an eye on Moon as he examines the squares of cloth. For the most part, they're each a solid color, with a few sporting patterns like stars and clouds. One even has cartoon ships printed on it, like a kid's blanket. He's not quite sure why he's picking a favorite, but none of them are particularly unpleasant to look at - though he found himself annoyed to catch sight of a scrap of cloth with bears decorating it. "What's it for?" he asks, tearing his gaze away to look at Moon curiously.

The animatronic crouches down beside him, tapping the fabric. "...Secret."

"Well, alright then." Gregory looks at the squares, pressing his lips together in thought. "I guess this one and this one," he decides, pointing to light yellow piece and a deep blue piece in succession.

He's picked up and placed back outside the Daycare rather unceremoniously, Moon's eyes staring down at him. "Stay out," the animatronic says gruffly, and the door shuts once more.

Gregory blinks, just once, his brain still scrambling to make sense of what just happened. "Bye, I guess," he says finally, walking away. Nothing seemed to be wrong in the Daycare. Maybe Moon was doing animatronic things? Who knows. He had other things to do, preferably things that didn't involve getting picked up and thrown around by animatronics.

As he walks away, he realizes that he forgot to demand to talk to Sun about the sundrops and moondrops, and the unexpected strength of the so-called candies.

He sighs. Maybe he could do that later, when Sun was actually around.

Chapter Text

The entire band unanimously votes to have Freddy be the one to give the gift basket to the newcomer. It's first suggested by Roxy, a smirk on her face, and seconded by Chica. Monty just watches as Freddy, who seems distracted, says nothing, sealing his own doom. Truth be told, it seemed that Freddy was distracted pretty often these  days, so it's no surprise that he doesn't notice the discussion happening under his own nose until it's too late. And when he does notice, his attempts at rebuttal are met with Chica's sweet smile.

"Come on! It's the least you can do!" she says firmly, and there's little he can say in response. He hadn't helped out very much with the basket itself, and so with a bit of guilt weighing on his conscience, he agrees.

Which is how he finds himself in front of the security office door, holding the surprisingly sizable gift basket. There are no windows, but he's sure that there is a security camera trained on him right now. He resists the urge to check, instead shifting the basket to one arm and raising the other to knock.

The metal door doesn't budge. Freddy clears his throat. "Excuse me, would you mind opening the door for a moment? I've some gifts for you. The... band has put them together, to welcome you."

There's a beat of silence, and then the security door opens. The security guard is sitting at the desk, eyes trained on the monitors in front of him. "The band, huh. What is it? Stuff from the gift shop?" The young man's tone almost sounds mocking; Freddy tells himself he must be imagining it.

"Nothing so thoughtless as that," Freddy says, forcing himself to chuckle. It was an action that should have come easily, but somehow this young man made him uneasy. Nonetheless, he forged onward, adding, "There are some items hard to come by, of course, but the others made some things for you. We hope you'll accept them."

"And if I didn't?" the young man says sharply.

Freddy tilts his head. He can now clearly register something like anger or frustration in the young man's tone, which is slightly less unnerving. The young man is often quite overworked... perhaps he was overthinking things. "Then I suppose I'll have to leave these here. It would be a shame if you didn't like them - Chica worked quite hard on these figurines."

Upon hearing Chica's name, the young man finally turns to look at the gift basket.

Freddy feels himself relaxing. Maybe it really is just a matter of preferences. He's no stranger to being disliked, and perhaps this young man's emotions just ran colder than most. "Should I leave these here?" he asks.

The security guard hesitates. "Give it here," he says, finally, reaching out with two hands. Freddy obliges, watching as the young man places it on the desk with some care.

"We hope you'll enjoy your time here," Freddy adds. "Please, do contact any of us should you require assistance with anything."

The security guard, back turned to him from placing the basket, pauses at that.

Then, slowly, he shakes his head. "You're all very busy, aren't you? What with being fawned over by kids and adults alike. Nah, I don't think I will."

"Only during the daytime! We are often free to do as we please at night," Freddy says, intending to reassure him.

But this just makes the security guard's hands turn white as he clutches the edge of the desk. Still not looking at Freddy - why won't he look at him? - the security guard says with a cold, low voice, "I'm well aware of that."

"Ah... I see," Freddy says, unsure of what to make of that statement.

He does not miss the way the security guard's hand drifts to the taser on his belt before twitching away.

"Just get out," the young man says, pulling his hat down and glancing at Freddy - a glint of purple in his eyes - before staring at the wall past him instead. "I'm busy, and you're interrupting my work."

"Of course," Freddy says, his voice as amiable as ever, but inwardly rather confused and a little hurt. He leaves rather quickly, hearing the door slam shut behind him as he goes. It did not go well - that much was clear. But it felt as though he'd somehow said something that had sparked the young man's disinterest - possibly even avoidance - into something closer to hate, and though he tried to examine the conversation from all angles, he couldn't quite figure out what it could've been. Of course, he was only a single animatronic, and it wasn't as though he was experienced in all the realms of human conversation, though he was certain he had enough experience to not be considered inept, either. But now he was stumped, and he wondered if he should ask his friends to help.

Freddy simply sighed, discarding the idea as soon as it came to mind. His friends surely wouldn't be interested in such trifling matters. If anything, he suspected it would only amuse them, and he expected no help in return. So he simply let it go, returning to tell Chica and the others the good news: the gift basket was received.

Whether it had been received well was a different matter.

A matter that Gregory was stewing on, back in the security office. He was angry, angrier than he wanted to be.

But this was a situation where Gregory wasn't sure anything could possibly make up for everything he was feeling right now.

He tapped the desk, hard, trying to stuff his feelings back into oblivion. He had been trying so hard; he'd been avoiding the Glamrocks, pretending Freddy was nothing more than air, and just treating the Pizzaplex like a crappy, stupid job that he needed to deal with to move on with life. And yet, all it took was a single conversation with the bear to make all the anger rise like bile in his throat, waiting to be shouted and yelled and screamed right into the stupid bear's face. It was hate, pure and simple. Maybe it was also fear; maybe it was something else. But the fact remained that he did not like that bear, and he wished nothing more than to be able to stab his taser right into Freddy's throat.

For a moment, he imagines it, then feels like throwing up. He couldn't. He couldn't, he would never - but he wanted to.

Gregory breathes out, long and slow, forcing himself to calm down. His hands shook as he unclenched them, small gouges in the desk where his nails had dug in. It was made of soft plastic,  just like anything else Fazbear Entertainment deemed unimportant enough to cut corners on. And Fazbear Entertainment cut corners on so much fucking shit, it was ridiculous.

He shakes his head. He was supposed to be over this. He hated this place, hated them all - but he knows, deep down, that they are not the monsters who hunted him down. They can be. And, sometimes, perhaps they are. But not right now.

Gregory imagines Chica, then Roxy, then Sun, and then Moon. Each one of them, speaking and talking and being normal. Just sentient robots who happen to be here.

Gregory growls as an image of Freddy unwittingly appears in his mind's eye.

With effort, he shoves the image away, instead choosing to turn to the gift basket. Surely it can't be that great. It's probably nothing, just toys and crap from the gift shops. All he has to do is go through it, figure out what to toss and what to keep, and then he can be done with it. But when he tears open the cellophane wrapping and peers inside, his heart sinks as he sees the little figures that Chica had apparently made.

They're simple - pieces of solid colored clay, molded and tweaked to resemble the animatronics - but they're cute, and clearly handmade. Although they're much better than what he could make, being an amateur at this sort of thing, the clay figures have some nicks and odd imprints in some places where Chica must not have noticed the marks. And yet, he sees all four band members there, wrapped carefully in bubble wrap, as well as Sun. For a moment, he's surprised to see Sun there, but he figures maybe they noticed him talking to the Daycare Attendant and decided to include him too. Although he notices that Moon was left out. Wonder why?

But he moves on. The figurines, he would have to keep. It was too sweet for him to throw away.

Next is... a map of the Pizzaplex and some Fazbear-themed food containers. Wow, real original. According to the little card, these are from Monty. Gregory picks up the container first, hoping they'll have actual food in them. He sees some burritos in a clear, opaque container, and can feel the weight in the other two, so that's definitely a start. He grins, putting them to the side as he picks up the map. At first he thought it might be a jab at his skills - did the crocodile think he didn't know his way around the Pizzaplex by now? - but then he notices that there's writing on the map. He squints, seeing that some places have been circled in bright green ink, with arrows and stars surrounding them. It seems almost too cute for Monty, but then he remembers that each of the Glamrocks autograph items and photos almost daily. It's no wonder that Monty would be prone to adding symbols like stars to his writing. There's some writing on the back that says, quite bluntly, "Best places to eat."

Gregory folds the map back up carefully. He would have to check those places out later. Some of the restaurants here were truly awful, and he hoped these recommendations were at least decent, if not better. He found himself smiling slightly. It almost seemed too thoughtful for the rough-speaking gator - maybe Chica had somehow incentivized the poor dude? He wouldn't put it past her.

Next he picks up a folded piece of clothing. Surprisingly it's very soft. He shakes it loose and freezes, shocked.

It's a jacket. But it's a blue jacket with light yellow sleeves and a bright yellow hood, and there are clouds decorating parts of it. There's a card in one of the pockets, and he pulls it out. It's just a rectangle of white construction paper, and in what looks like crayon is written, "For: Gregory. We hope you like it!"

Gregory checks the inside of the jacket. It's smooth, with no fuzzy lining or anything - something he hated, on account of the whole texture and heating issue. On impulse, he shrugs it on. It fits him well, hanging only a little loosely on his frame but otherwise way more comfortable than many other things he's worn. The memory of Moon asking him to pick his favorite colored cloth comes to mind, and he suppresses a laugh. So that's what that had been about. Could've treated him a little more gently, though.

All that's left in the gift basket is a limited-edition Fazbear hydroflask and a box containing a deck of animatronic-themed cards, both of which he suspected were Freddy's contribution. He'd also seen these in the gift shop before, and he just lets out a sigh. "Yeah, no," he mutters, tossing both into the trash can. The rest of the gifts he puts back carefully into the basket, re-tying the cellophane so it'll all stay inside.

Despite himself, he feels a little better. He feels calmer. It's things like this that make him almost forgive them all - at least the the three Glamrocks and the Daycare Attendant, although he notices that Roxy doesn't seem to have contributed anything specific. But whatever, she didn't seem to like him much so he figured she must not have done anything. Maybe she helped out with one of the other gifts.

But regardless, this might help him shove all those memories down forever. Especially if they kept doing things like this - giving him food, being thoughtful, and above all, acting human. If they were really just people...

Maybe he could like them for real. It would be a shame to have to dial back on his smart ass comments and general dislike of the company, but the animatronics... didn't deserve to have it directed at them. And if he could get over it...

Well. Maybe things would be easier. Forgiveness was hard, but maybe he could manage it.

For anyone other than Freddy, of course. There was no forgiveness to be had there.

Chapter Text

The first hint that Gregory gets that something is wrong is when the network shuts down. Or rather, it disconnects, and the essay that he's writing stops auto-saving. When the site kicks him out on account of being offline, Gregory glances at the cameras and discovers that the animatronics have wandered off, as per usual. At this point, he'd be concerned if they stayed in one place all night.

He taps the desk with annoyance. He was supposed to turn that damn essay in soon. By the end of tomorrow, at least. A quick glance at the clock confirms that tomorrow is in a few minutes... This is what he gets for putting it off, he supposes. Pushing the assignment to the back of his mind, he instead stood and grabbed his flashlight, mentally trying to recall where the routers were in this mega complex. He seems to recall them being located in ridiculously hard to get places, scattered all over the building. He contemplates the idea of going around and manually messing with each one, then decides against it. At the end of each hour, there's usually a reset in the power system. It'll probably fix the network; or something. It wasn't his problem until management told him it was anyway, and there was no way they would be reaching him with the network out.

Gregory thinks for a moment. The hour was almost up, so he would've gone out to do a patrol soon, network outage or no network outage. He steps outside of the security office, casting a quick glance back at the cameras to note the locations of the animatronics as he does so.

Chica is in the kitchens. Freddy is in the lobby. Roxy is up on the second floor. Monty is in his own area. Everyone is where they normally are, and nothing seems amiss.

Gregory stops.

Something is amiss - he sweeps his face over the cameras again, wondering what it is, knowing that the voice screaming in his head isn't wrong. What is he missing?

He focuses on the animatronics.

It's Chica.

She's crouched over a garbage can, her hands digging through the mess, shoveling papers, leftovers, and other disgusting substances into her beak. Gregory blinks to make sure he's not imagining thing in between the static of the monitor, but he isn't. He wills her to stand; if only she would stand and walk away, straight and proud as the Glamrocks normally walk, he could pretend that everything was okay.

But a minute passes and she continues, her crouched figure reminding him of the horrifying night where none of the animatronics had a mind of their own. He grits his teeth. Responding to incidents is his job; he needs to go, now, before she moves on and he loses sight of her.

Gregory runs. The STAFF bots wheel out of his path, beeping in alarm, and he apologizes over his shoulder as he goes. He doesn't stop, though - as his feet pound against the floor, making more noise than he'd like, he reminisces on the time when he couldn't run for very long at all. As a child, he could only go so far, and so fast. His time was better spent hiding and sneaking around back then. At least he'd been good at it; the only other option was to die, which was a pretty bad option, all things considered. He slows down as he approaches the kitchens, hearing a muted clatter as he draws closer.

Gregory turns the corner and sees Chica. Even kneeled on the floor, she is very tall, with the top of her head reaching his chest. Her earrings glint dully in the dim neon lights, flashing as she ducks her head down for another bite.

"That can't taste too good," Gregory says, unclipping the taser from his belt.

Chica's head snaps towards him; the angle isn't a perfect 180°, but it's still very unnatural. She looks terrified. "Gregory?! What are you- this isn't-"

"Isn't what?" he says, and it sounds colder than he meant it to. It's mostly fear that's filling him right now, making adrenaline pump through his veins.

Chica shakes her head. "It's not what you think!" she says, a little desperately, and the rest of her body turns, so that she's full facing Gregory. As she stands, it occurs to him that he perhaps should have invested in a gun rather than a taser. It's mostly the fear talking - after all, he can hardly buy a gun with all the laws in place surrounding such purchases, and he wouldn't be allowed to bring a weapon like that into the Pizzaplex in the first place. "I'm just so hungry," Chica whines, taking a step towards Gregory.

He takes a step back. "Chica."

"And it doesn't taste good at all! You know that, I know that. I don't want to be eating this, I don't, but the kitchen's run out of ingredients and I..." Chica's voice box rises in pitch, hurting his ears. She notices his wince and trails off, clearly trying to control herself. It doesn't work. He can see her hands twitching, can hear her beak clack as it opens and closes. Who thought it was a good idea to program a robot to be hungry?

Chica suddenly lumbers forward, grabbing Gregory by the shoulders. It's too tight, with her hands resting a much too heavily on him, but she doesn't seem to notice how he struggles, trying to free himself from her grip. Her eyes are looking at him, but his chest feels cold as he notices a spark of violet in her gaze. "I'm so hungry," she says, her voice slightly distorted. "Would you ta-"

"Fucking hell," Gregory gasps, his thumb pushing the taser switch to ON. He smashes it into Chica's arm, which convulses, giving him the chance to shove her away. He stumbles backward, feeling a phantom weight on his shoulders from where she'd grabbed him.

He needs to run. Now.

But he hesitates. "Chica," he says slowly, watching the animatronic intently. She's on the ground, holding her arm and keening softly. A jolt of guilt shoots through him; he hadn't wanted to hurt her. Then the guilt is smoothed away by a tide of nothing that sweeps through his mind and calms him down. He can't afford any distractions.

"What's going on?"

The animatronic looks at him.

She's sweet, he knows that much. She is a good person. Easy to get along with, and kind enough to give food to a rude, snarky person like him.

Chica opens her beak.

"Gregory-? Your - are looking - you!" she says, her words disjointed and staticky. She claps her beak shut, looking shocked and worried. "I didn't mean to say that," she mumbles.

Gregory's heart feels like it's going to beat it's way out of his chest. Those words - it sounded like -

He clips the taser back to his belt. "You need to get to Parts & Service. Your protocols need to get looked at." He shuts down the other thoughts, the ones demanding that she needs to be decommissioned right this moment.

"No!" Chica yelps, backing away. "I don't need to! I'm fine, I'm fine!" Her eyes are wide, and she seems to hunch in on herself. She's frightened at the very thought of it. Even though it shouldn't be scary at all, because they do maintenance and other things down there all the time. But she is, to the point that she cowers away from him and trembles slightly. She's not in her right mind, it's true - but there something else wrong.

Gregory breathes out slowly. "Don't lie." Chica's beak clacks a few times in response. "If you don't come with me, I'll have to make a proper incident report. This is clearly abnormal behavior."

Chica is no longer shaking. Her head is down.

"If you come with me, though, and I can figure out what's wrong, then there won't be any problems I have to report."

At first, he thinks she's calmed down. But then she stands again, and it's wrong, all wrong.

Her head is still looking down, and her legs aren't quite in line with one another. She takes a step toward him, her voicebox warbling softly. "Gregory?" she says, still stumbling towards him. Her head finally moves, but there's no light of recognition in her eyes as she looks at him. "Gregory, it's not safe," she croons, and he smiles at her.

"No, it isn't," he agrees.

He runs, bolting towards a doorway that leads to a stairway down. He's been thinking this whole time about what to do. About what would keep him alive, and about what obligations he had that could get in the way of that. He couldn't do his job if he were dead, true, and he was sure none of the animatronics could possibly die if he left them alone for a night. However, Chica had been afraid of Parts & Services. Was it because she thought she would be decommissioned if they found something wrong? Was there something the animatronics were hiding?

But Parts & Services was the only place he could go. Most of the equipment in there was so simple a child could use it - he's checked - and if he didn't do something now, there was a chance her malfunctions could continue into opening hours. And then she would be the one in danger.

It's a long chase, and a hard one. Gregory had ran most of the way to Chica, which was a mistake. On the way to Parts & Services, he kept having to duck behind plants and railings, sucking air into his lungs as quietly as possible while the whole ground shakes, hoping Chica won't see him until he's recovered enough to run again. Each time, he would reflect on how it had been as a child - back then, he was able to hide in many more places, such as trash bins, photo booths, and even baby strollers. Being young and underfed made for a remarkably small child. He supposed he could still fit in the trash bins and photo booths, but the strollers - not happening.

In Parts & Services, there is the chair, laid out and horizontal. When Chica charges in, Gregory lets her crash into the wall. When she's disoriented, he steps behind her and presses the taser to the base of her neck, turning the voltage up high.

She shrieks, causing the lights to flicker and his grip to slip slightly, but Chica is already falling or the ground as Gregory stumbles back. He shakes his head, but his ears won't stop ringing.

That's fine. He can deal with that later.

The straps take some time, but they click into place easily enough.

Gregory exhales. Then he goes to the monitor and starts it up, flicking through the available programs. Maintenance, repair, etc. are all possible. He can do this. It'll be fine. He presses the button, and overhead, an automated voice starts telling him what to do.

It'll be fine.

Chapter Text

It was not fine, and now he's got a nice bruise on his fucking face to show for it. There's more on his ribs as well, although at least those can be bandaged and covered by his clothes. He hates it when his face is injured. It draws attention, and comments if he's really unlucky. He hadn't even bothered to drag Chica out of Parts & Services - he'd just left the doors open and the straps off. If she panics, that's for her friends to deal with. Gregory just clocked out and went home, icing his wounds and praying the swelling would go down by the time he woke up the next day.

It could have been worse. He could have died. But to be completely honest, he wasn't happy that "not dying" was his consolation for getting beat black and blue by a malfunctioning animatronic. What a stupid job. What a messed-up franchise.

When he clocks in the next day, running on much less sleep than he should and with his body sore and aching, he makes a beeline for the security office and shuts himself inside.

The crowds are loud. Laughter, shrieking, talking, footsteps, music, crying, shouting; it all echoes, louder and louder until Gregory wants to - do something. It's not that bad, not really. It's quieter in the security office, but at a moment's notice, the noise becomes too much and the irritation inside him grows. He mutes all the cameras, makes sure the doors are locked, and throws himself into the chair, digging his fingers into his arms. It occurs to him that perhaps he really should change jobs. It was a living wage, true, and a stable one. Easy enough, even, with a solid source of wi-fi for his college homework to sweeten the deal. But he hadn't really thought there would be malfunctions again; as prepared as he was, nothing could really prepare him for being hunted by a six-foot mechanical chicken.

Gregory closes his eyes. The whir of the fans reminds him of those times when he'd sit in the silence of the house, not knowing what to do with himself until his dad came home. It was always quiet. Better than when he'd been trying to live on the streets - everything was loud out there.

He feels calmer. Next time, he'll do an incident report. He doesn't think he'll be able to withstand anymore abuse from the animatronics - they're heavy, and very, very solid. And it was just Chica! Sweet, kind Chica who didn't want to hurt him in the first place... He needs to stop caring. He could die next time; unlikely, but the animatronics are dangerous if they can't control themselves.

Gregory shakes his head. It would be fine. He'll be fine. It was probably just a one-time thing. Chica has been hungry this whole time, so there's no reason to think that she'll lose control again. It was probably just the virus, maybe even a mild relapse. When he thinks about it, there's even a chance that his presence had made things worse. He'd seen some irregularities in her programming that were triggered specifically by human presences - aka intruders - so he'd probably just disrupted her senses somehow. Gregory sighs. He should have stuck to avoiding the Glamrocks altogether, just as he'd been doing before. The brief run-in with Chica in the kitchens, as well as the gift basket, had just made him forget the reason why he'd kept them at a distance in the first place. It's fine. He remembers why, now. He won't forget again.

With that in mind, he puts in earbuds - music to keep the noise at bay - and goes on his patrols as usual. He avoids the main stage, keeping himself by the walls and in the walkways. He keeps an eye on the cameras, making sure to avoid the animatronics as they host events, perform activities, and sign merchandise. It's much quieter this way. No eyes turn his way - except for those drawn by the dark colors blooming on his skin. No inquisitive glances from an animatronic. No attempts to speak with him, or wave him down.

Well, if there are any - from customer or robot alike - he ignores them. He's on the clock! Can't waste any time on unrelated chitchat, no sir. He's got a job to do.

Unfortunately for him, late into the day when things are winding down and the crowds are thinning out, he's caught by the one and only Roxy. Gregory can feel his eye twitch at the sight of the mechanical wolf bearing down on him, her gaze leaving him no illusions about who she's approaching. He forgot, for a moment, that she could see through walls. With how little she seemed to like him, he hadn't expected her to hunt him down herself.

"What did you do?" she growls. Her hair almost seems to bristle as she corners him, her claws glinting at her sides.

"Just doing rounds," he says. "Important stuff. Nothing a fazzing wolf should care about."

"I - what?" she says, looking furious.

Gregory glances meaningfully behind her. She doesn't turn, but he's sure she's aware of the eyes on her, the ones full of interest, nervousness, and other emotions typically displayed towards the animatronic rockstars. But she doesn't seem to care. Her attitude is often one that's rough and callous, so maybe that gives her a pass to act like this in public.

She advances on him. "Look here," she starts, but in an instant Gregory pulls out his phone, aiming the camera at her. She stares at it, far more wary of being recorded than she was of being seen.

"What is it?" he asks, head cocked, eyes wide. The anger seeps out, obvious in how fake his tone and expression is. Or maybe he's just not interested in controlling himself - he just wants to taunt her. "Why are you angry?"

He notices Monty out of the corner of his eye, approaching from the opposite direction. He's being cornered, and he doubts the two Glamrocks known for being rough and rude are trapping him for a friendly conversation. He looks at Roxy, and sees her making eye contact with Monty.

Well. There it was.

He takes a step to the side, and she matches the movement. "Chica has been looking for you," she growls. Gregory can hear Monty's footsteps drawing closer as Roxy continues, "All I know is that she was in Parts & Services this morning. What did you do to her?"

"What did I do to her?" Gregory echoes, genuinely surprised. He'd known the two were close, but not this close! This must've been what pushed Roxy's mild dislike of him into pure hatred. What was it like to treasure someone like that? He wouldn't know - it seems like all he does is hurt others and get hurt. He pushes down the giggles, but he can't help but snicker a little.

Roxy snarls. It feels good, seeing such a large, threatening animatronic look so territorial and angry; like he's leaning over a cliff and staring at the abyss below, a railing beneath his fingers and the wind pulling him down. He wonders why she looks that way. He's sure Roxy couldn't possibly care enough to try and off him, at least not in public, but her eyes - her glimmering, bright green eyes - are fixed on him, seeming to indicate that she doesn't care about the public if it means getting rid of him."I didn't do anything," he says. He doesn't shout or raise his voice, but it comes out cold. "She was having problems, and I fixed her."

"Chica doesn't have problems!" Roxy snaps.

Gregory just laughs.

"There you are," Monty says, drawing close enough to join the conversation. The stupid crocodile doesn't look hostile at all, strangely enough. Just curious, maybe. "Wasn't Chica looking for you?"

Gregory transfers his stare to Monty. "Oh yeah? Roxy said that, too. Something wrong with her?"

"Nah, just distracted. She fumbled a chord during practice, so of course I noticed. Idiot." Monty shifts his weight, glancing at Roxy. "Were you causing trouble again, Roxanne?"

Roxy shakes her head. "You're coming with me, brat," she snaps, "and you're going to apologize to Chica."

He pulls away quickly. "I have to patrol."

"You're not even doing anything! I'm taking you to Chica right now," Roxy nearly snarls. "She almost messed up a song today. And she never messes up. Whatever you did, I swear-"

Gregory waves his phone, camera still aimed in her direction. "Hello? Don't you care?"

"I haven't said anything wrong. Kids should always apologize for their mistakes," Roxy says, her voice suddenly smooth as silk.

Ah, so she just needed time to think of a way to frame her words. Gregory rolls his eyes and pockets his phone; that particular threat wasn't working anymore. And the camera hadn't even been on in the first place. His other hand goes to his taser. "My job is to take care of intruders and deal with possible malfunctions," he says. "Stop interrupting my work, or I'll have to assume you're malfunctioning."

Roxy's face twitches. "How dare you," she says in a low voice. He suspects she's as frustrated with him as he is with her.

To his surprise, Monty intervenes. "The brat's got work to do. Lay off the kid, Roxy."

"I'm 23."

Monty rolls his eyes. "I don't care."

Roxy bares her teeth. "Fine," she says, glaring at Monty. She turns and stalks away, her shoulders straight and her head held high. Her pride is clear in every line of her body; it's no wonder she's as popular as she is. If only she would stop bothering him...

"Better run along, brat," Monty says, letting out a low whistle. "What'd you do to piss her off?"

Gregory raises an eyebrow. "You can swear?"

"Nah. And don't tell anyone either," Monty says, grinning. His teeth are sharp as well, almost sharper than Roxy's. "But Chica's been looking for you, so show up later, yeah? It's not like you to be shy."

"I'm not being shy!"

Monty just snickers. Montgomery Gator, the rough-speaking mascot and the idol of all the troublemakers within the Pizzaplex walls. Gregory just lets it go. If Chica is dangerous, then Monty is a disaster waiting to happen. It's no wonder that, between his temper and his claws, Roxy had backed off for now. As for why Monty came to his defense - Gregory has no idea.

And he doesn't care, either. He'd just have to do better. And if Roxy can see through walls, then he's going to have to make sure he's out of her range during the night shift. She won't hold back when the Pizzaplex closes, all the customers leaving the hallways empty, quiet, and witness-free. While Gregory doesn't know what Chica wants - to scold him? To hate him? Does she hold a grudge? - he doesn't want to find out. Roxy, Chica, and the rest of the Glamrocks are all a nuisance right now. Especially if they're going to be actively hunting him to get him to 'apologize,' something he has no intention of doing.

Gregory grips his flashlight, tapping it against his leg as he walks. At least he was pretty sure the others weren't experiencing any glitches at the moment. So it was like a game of hide-and-seek.

His dad had played that game with him all the time. Gregory smiles a little at the memory. They had called it practice, even though in the end, it was always just good fun. His dad had known what Gregory had gone through, had understood his nightmares - he'd gone through the same thing himself, after all.

Chapter Text

It's been a few hours since closing. Gregory checks his phone again, tapping through the cameras to find Roxy.

There she was - on the bottom floor, searching the bathrooms. He snickers as she slams open one door so hard that it bounces back into her face, hitting her on the nose. She's more careful after that, but her tail is waving back and forth angrily as she moves on.

"That's what you get," he mutters, leaning back to stretch. He's been curled up beneath the counter of a shop on the second floor for at least ten minutes now, and his shoulders are definitely cramping up. His neck hurts too. He shifts slightly, trying to get into a better position, then freezes as the door to the shop creaks open.

"Hey, superstar, you in here?"

Gregory rolls his eyes. He'd recognize that voice anywhere.

He can hear Freddy greet the security bot doing loops in the store, then lumber back out. The bear didn't even bother stepping much further than the welcome mat - no wonder no one was finding him. Well, that just made it easier, he supposed. Gregory groaned as he finally stretched, the pain blooming in all his bruised ribs along with his cramped neck and shoulders. He was in a fine shape today, that's for sure. A quick check on the cameras confirms that Freddy is leaving the area. He taps through the rest, annoyed when he finds that Roxy is slowly making her way near the area he's hiding in. He sighs, glaring at the colorful, 80's themed carpet at his feet.

"What're you doing? Playing hide-and-seek? Or is it tag?"

"Holy-" Gregory sputters, fumbling with his phone. He spins around to see Sun's faceplate two inches from his face, the neon light glinting off of the animatronic's pointed rays. "How the fuck did you sneak up on me like that?!"

"Language!" Sun scolds him lightly. "And for your information, I simply entered on the ceiling when Freddy entered. He never looks up - no one does." He sits back in his heels and smiles, looking quite satisfied with himself.

But then his smile fades. "Oh dear. Whatever happened to your face?"

Ah, yes. The bruise. Gregory tilts his head, hoping to hide it in the shadow of the counter. None of the other animatronics had mentioned it, so he'd forgotten that it was still visible. "I beat up a tree," he lies. "It didn't like that."

Sun's rays rotate slowly. "Oh my," he says, smiling along. Gregory suspects the animatronic is aware he's lying, but the Daycare Attendant must be used to children lying about their wounds, as he doesn't pursue it. "Would you let me treat it?" Sun says instead. "I'm very good at treating wounds."

"I already iced it," Gregory says dismissively. "Anyway, go away. You're gonna break my cover."

"It's alright. I'm very sneaky," Sun says.

Gregory eyes him, but is forced to agree. After all, Sun had slipped right in with neither him nor Freddy the wiser - an act he would've thought only Moon could do, but maybe the lack of presence from the Naptime Attendant these past few years had given Sun the free rein to acquire whatever skills he wanted.

He frowns. "Wait, why are you here in the first place?"

Sun tilts his head, smiling widely. For some reason, it doesn't look as cheerful as normal. "Well," the Daycare Attendant says, drawing out the word, "You never did come to visit for quite awhile, so we were wondering about you! Imagine my surprise when, out of nowhere, the Glamrocks send out a message to every robot in the Pizzaplex to keep an eye out for you! Why, I've never seen anything like it! Of course, knowing you and your habit of breaking rules, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised, but I was... still quite worried."

"Oh." Gregory considers that for a moment. It has been busy lately, with him missing his exam, and the whole dealing with the Glamrocks and their strange manner of approaching him. And then on top of all that was Chica's recent bout of glitching and the confrontation that had followed. He grimaces. "Sorry."

Sun waves his hands. "Oh, please, don't be sorry! But that's why I decided to come out and see if I could find you." He pauses. "I hope you liked the jacket, by the way! Moon was quite sure that these were the colors you picked, but I didn't have a chance to ask you myself, you see."

"No, I like it." Gregory tugs on the sleeve, worrying away at the edge with his fingers. "It's very soft. Thank you."

"Of course!" Sun bounces slightly. "When Chica asked us to help prepare something for the gift basket, we were quite excited!"

Gregory contemplates Sun for a moment. "Speaking of gifts, those moondrops and sundrops you gave me were... a little much."

"O-oh." Sun's smile fades slightly. "They were?"

"I slept for a full twelve hours thanks to the moondrop and ended up missing my exam."

Sun's rays seem to almost droop. "Oh no! That's not good... hm? Are you not sleeping twelve hours each night?"

"Most humans only sleep nine hours," Gregory says. He's avoiding the question, true, but it's not like he needs to come clean about his sleeping habits now, of all times. He sighs. "And the sundrops were way too caffeinated. I could barely think straight."

Sun raises a hand to his faceplate. "Oh dear!" he exclaims, the second time in almost as many minutes. "I'm terribly sorry. The last security guard... oh, no, that was several hires ago... She was quite fond of the sundrops, and you seemed tired, so I thought perhaps that it would be alright to give you some. I'm so sorry, Gregory, I truly didn't know they would be too strong."

Gregory sighs. "It's fine, I guess. Just be more careful with those." He glances at his phone again, then grimaces. "Fuck, Roxy is a lot closer now."

"Language!" Sun hisses.

"I gotta go. See you later," Gregory says, rising to a crouch and peering over the counter. He has to duck down as the security guard whirls around, flashlight spinning over the walls of the store.

Sun watches him for a moment, the animatronic's expression seeming almost thoughtful. "Would you like to hide in the Daycare?" Sun asks curiously. "No one can enter without our permission - at least, none of the other animatronics can! All games of tag need a safe zone, and at least there's lots of room in there." The animatronic's smile stretches as he rests his head on his hand, adding, "And if I take you there, we can arrive very quickly without being caught!"

"You're used to being sneaky, aren't you," Gregory deadpans.

Sun just smiles. "Why, thank you!"

Gregory thinks for a moment. It has been fun, playing with the animatronics, but as time passes, there's always a chance he could slip up - even fall asleep if he didn't keep his wits about him. Being tucked into corners was a strangely soothing experience, and he was definitely not as awake as he was when the gates first closed.

"Okay," he says. "Let's go."

Sun leaps at him, and Gregory has to bite his lip to keep himself from yelling several swear words out loud as the animatronic picks him up and sweeps him into the air without a second's notice. His stomach seems to have been left behind as Sun brings him up into the rafters.

The security bot doesn't notice a thing.

"We used to take the vents, but I'm not so sure we could fit you in there with us," Sun says conversationally, adjusting his grip to hold Gregory more comfortably. "Humans don't bend quite enough to make up for a lack of space the way we can."

"Humans do not bend like that, not at all," Gregory agrees, his voice still stiff and breathless from the shock of being picked up so quickly.

Sun hums cheerfully. "So what we'll do is, we'll go up and across the ceiling. As long as we stay out of range of Ms. Roxanne, we'll likely remain unnoticed."

"Cool."

"I will only be able to hold you using one hand at times, though. Please be sure to hold on tightly! I'd hate to lose you," Sun says.

Gregory's eyes widen. "Oh, uh, yeah." He stuffs his phone in his pocket and wraps his arms around the animatronic, suddenly very aware of the drop below. "Can't you use the wire?"

Sun goes still, the energy draining out of him all at once. His white eyes are fixed on Gregory, and even his smile seems to thin. "The wire?" the animatronic echoes. His tone is still friendly, but there's something wrong with the way he says it.

"Yeah. The wire. The one that hooks onto your back?" Gregory glances up at Sun, confused.

He knows the animatronic is reacting to what he's said, but he doesn't know why - or exactly what it was. And Sun doesn't seem inclined to clear the air, instead looking for all the world like a yellow, metallic statue. "I don't use a wire," Sun says, finally. He straightens and pats Gregory on the head, smile growing natural once more. "Perhaps you're mistaken?"

A memory nags at the back of Gregory's mind. One where he watches in horror as Moon, made larger-than-life by his small body and his fear, rises slowly into the air. The animatronic's red eyes glowed ominously as he chuckles, a finger placed at his mouth as he scolds Gregory for being awake so late. All a pretense, of course - the virus had twisted them so that their benign programming had decidedly fatal results. He remembers that a wire had descended beforehand, and a soft clink as it presumably hooked into the large ring on the Daycare Attendant's back. As this memory fades away, Gregory comes to a new realization: not once has he seen Sun use the wire, and he hasn't seen Moon use it either - at least not during his time as an employee here.

Gregory opens his mouth, then closes it. He's been growing fond of the Daycare Attendant, especially since he started using the jacket they made for him. It's probably one of the nicest things he owns. And now, obviously, isn't the time for this. Arguing with the animatronic holding him close to the Pizzaplex's ridiculously high ceiling seemed like a bad career move.

"My mistake," he says instead. "Please don't drop me."

"I would never!" Sun exclaims. He tightens his grip, and they start traversing the ceiling, leaping from rafter to rafter with all the silent grace of a cat.

Unbeknownst to Gregory, as they travel, Sun's mind is busy musing over the security guard and his strange phrases. Sun doesn't use the wire - he's not very good at it, and anyway, it's always been something meant for Moon. Ever since he started hiding Moon away from the eyes of the public, Moon hasn't used the wire in ages either; although, like any animatronic, it's not as though his skills were rusty.

So how did Gregory know about it? Sun would wager that even the technicians have forgotten all about it. He's heard some of them muttering over his useless design, wondering what the ring on his back is for.

Sun thinks to himself, rolling the name 'Gregory' through with his mind. What a name, what a name! A common enough name, but no less a name.

But how strange - Sun feels like he's heard that name somewhere before. Of course, he surely has, what with being connected to the network, as well as meeting children each and every day! Why, each child's name is perfectly special and unique, no matter how many others may have the same name. It's a child's special name after all, their one and only! Unless they decide otherwise, which happens often enough.

Gregory, Gregory, Gregory... Sun has run it through his memory files, but no keywords have pulled up anything interesting. A young black-haired boy, age 3, last arrived 2 years ago. Certainly not - Gregory is far older than 5! The other search results have had similar results, which annoys Sun somewhat.

Perhaps a rule breaker? Gregory does certainly seem to cause more than his fair share of trouble. He's even hiding right now, from the Glamrocks no less! Come to think of it, why was Gregory hiding in the first place?

Sun asks out loud. "I never did ask, but why are you hiding? Have you broke some rules again?"

The security guard grumbles. "I didn't. It's just... I had to fix Chica, and I think I scared her."

"Fix Ms. Chica? How strange. She hasn't needed so much as a maintenance check-up in quite a long time!"

Gregory's grip tightens. "What? They're all supposed to be checked by maintenance regularly, aren't they?"

"Hm?" Sun places Gregory on the ground in front the Daycare gently, reaching out to push the faux wooden doors wide open. "I'm afraid many of the animatronics have not needed to go to Parts & Services for quite some time. Not since the Incident!"

Gregory stares at Sun.

It clicks. The reason why Chica was so afraid - almost unfamiliar with Parts & Services. The reason why she was allowed to handle the glitches by herself without any reports about them, and the reason why the animatronics themselves seemed unfamiliar with human employees in general.

"When's the last time the technicians were here?"

"Oh, I'm uh, I'm not quite sure." Sun tilts his head as he retrieves the relevant information from his head. "In regards to scheduled maintenance on the attractions, barring any incidents of breakdowns, they check on things twice a year. The last check-up was three months ago."

"And what about maintenance on the animatronics?"

"There is no scheduled maintenance concerning animatronics. The STAFF bots are the exception; they are cleaned and checked once a month, through a subsidiary cleaning company." Sun meets Gregory's eyes. "I'm surprised you weren't aware of this! Was it not included in your employee handbook?"

"No. I guess it wasn't important." Gregory lets himself get herded into the Daycare by Sun. He's too busy thinking over what he's learned, trying to put together a puzzle he wasn't even aware until now.

There have been no check-ups on the animatronics in years. No examinations or decisions made regarding them - other than the supposed decommission of Moon - reported since the Incident.

The technicians only perform maintenance on the STAFF bots and the attractions.

The virus that was so confidently declared to be fixed in the reports he's read is still present - if it's affecting Chica, there's a good chance it's still in the other animatronics as well. But why?

"It was removed, supposedly," Gregory mutters to himself. He ignores Sun's questioning glance, instead trying to bring into focus a vague sense of something in the back of his mind. "It was removed, but now it's back... It's back?"

He taps the flashlight against his leg, thinking. "It doesn't affect those with a certain protocol in place. And those without it... can still be affected, even with the upgrades. The memories - they removed the corrupted information without finding out where the corruption came from. It's an external source! That's why... they didn't actually remove it, they just... thought they did..."

"Gregory? What are you talking about?"

Gregory looks at Sun. "This company is the worst, Sun. Really. I'm amazed that they've managed to keep afloat with all the lawsuits they should be dealing with."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Something's aggravating the source of the virus, and it's already triggered inside of Chica." Gregory groans. "Dad always told me about... ugh, I don't even want to say his name."

Sun just looks confused.

Gregory runs a hand over his face. "I purposefully didn't take on their name," he complains. "Why do I have to deal with it again? God, I should just have this place shut down..."

"Gregory?"

Gregory looks at Sun. "Sorry. I'm just - don't worry, I won't. I'm not going to get you guys decommissioned - I would never." He sighs. "...Sun, have you ever heard of the Afton family?"

Chapter Text

Moon is rather annoyed when the lights go out. He was looking forward to hearing about this 'Afton family' that Gregory had spoken of with such a somber tone, and the interruption was quite unwelcome. In fact, it happens so quickly that it takes him a moment to realize that he's the one in their body now, staring down at Gregory in the dark.

"What the-" the young man nearly yelps, looking around wildly.

Moon considers the situation, then activates the glow-in-the-dark stars on his clothing. It's a very soft glow, but it often calms down children when they feel uneasy or scared in the dark. It seems to give Gregory something to focus on; the security guard visibly calms down at the sight.

The lights shouldn't be off, though. Moon rotates his head slightly, casting a glance at their surroundings to see that everything outside the Daycare was also dark. And... from the lack of noise, possibly everything in the Pizzaplex was currently powered down.

"The lights need to be on," he grumbles.

The security guard pats Moon on the arm, staring at their surroundings with a frown. "I'd like them on too. What the hell is going on?"

"Language."

Even in the darkness, Moon can see the little rulebreaker's eyes roll in response. Brat.

He watches the young man turns on his flashlight, carefully aiming it away from Moon as though worried about how the light would affect him. A flashlight wouldn't be enough to disrupt his programming, but it certainly wouldn't be fun, either. Moon debates over whether to say something to that effect, but Gregory speaks before he has the chance.

"I think something's wrong," the security guard says warily. He pulls out his phone and taps the screen, looking worried. "The cameras are still functioning, thankfully... fuck, the network is down again."

"Language."

"I think this deserves a few swear words," Gregory says, exasperation seeping into his voice. He holds the phone up to Moon. "Hey, do you see anything weird?"

Moon peers at the phone; it looks small in the young man's hands, almost fragile. The screen is showing the view from a camera, looking at the main stage from an angle. On the stage is a strange-looking figure - a bipedal bunny. But it's different from Bonnie; instead of purple and blue metal, it's a pale white color with grey patches, like a homemade Halloween costume. "An intruder," Moon hisses.

"Do you see the bunny?"

"Of course," Moon snaps. He can feel his fingers flex, his security protocols begging to be put into action. But they've been inactive for so long, and the thought of activating them still makes him uneasy. "You're the security guard. Get rid of it."

"It's not that easy."

Moon turns to the young man, annoyed at the dismissive tone in his voice, but there's a look of... resignation in the human's eyes that he wasn't expecting.

"I don't like this," the young man says, not noticing Moon's confusion. "The security office has a back-up generator - I think we should head over there for now."

"We?"

Gregory looks up at moon, his pale face lit by the light from his phone. "I was hoping you could take me... No good?"

Moon hesitates. "The lights..."

"You're fine. We already figured out that you're safe, right? You and Sun have the necessary programs running right now. Although I'll probably taze you if you make any sudden moves."

Despite himself, Moon chuckles at the threat. He calls the wire from the ceiling, feeling the familiar clink of the hook settling into the ring on his back. He sees the human watching, and thought crosses his mind, a memory from when Sun was out and about. "How did you know about this?" he asks.

"Know about what?"

"The wire."

There's a twist of something on the human's face, something Moon can't quite decipher. Sun might've been better at it - he was the one who was always dealing with humans, after all. Moon hasn't been out of the Daycare for years, now. He couldn't, not if it meant hurting someone. Not if it meant getting himself - and possibly Sun - decommissioned in the process.

But, according to Gregory, he wasn't dangerous anymore. Moon hoped it was true.

"I guessed," the young man says, finally. He makes a vague gesture to Moon, adding, "I mean, there's a ring on your back. You're like... acrobats, or jesters, right? So I thought there was a wire."

It sounded reasonable to Moon. It didn't quite sound true - Gregory had taken a bit too much time to think about it - but it didn't sound like a complete lie. So he lets it go. It's not like it mattered very much right now, with the power out and an air of urgency surrounding the security guard, visible in his nervous eyes and tense shoulders.

Moon picks up the human. He did it quickly and roughly, before, when he was tired of discussing fabrics with Sun. If the human picked his favorites, then they could stop talking about it. The Daycare Attendant wouldn't stop worrying about the shades and hues, and it had driven Moon up the wall. But this was different. Now, he was supposed to carry this human, and he feared that he would somehow break Gregory into two if he did it wrong. It's a familiar embrace, holding Gregory like a child with some adjustments for size, but it's also an alien sensation due to how long it's been.

"To the security office?" Moon asks, pulling the two of them smoothly into the air. There's a sense of weightlessness that he hadn't even realized he was missing, only ruined by the fast-paced heartbeat of the young man in his arms. Possibly scared of heights, which was unfortunate. Definitely not scared of him. This little rulebreaker doesn't seem to even notice the danger animatronics can pose, doing whatever he wants without a care in the world.

Gregory nods. "The big one is the one with the back-up generator, I think. If not, we can try the other one."

They fly through the air, silent and quick. Moon notices Chica below them, and slows a little, wondering if Gregory would want to speak with the animatronic. Whether to tell her about Safe Mode, or to say hello, he wasn't sure. Moon wasn't completely fond of Chica himself, but she was right there.

To his surprise, the human's grip tightened, and Gregory hissed quietly, "Keep going!"

Moon remembers that Gregory was playing hide-and-seek with the Glamrocks. He wonders why he would keep playing even now, in the midst of a power outage, but he shrugs it off and moves on. They reach the security office in no time at all, and Moon sets the young man gently on the floor, grateful he didn't somehow drop him from several meters in the air.

Gregory flashes a security card at the scanner and steps into the dimly lit office, eyes flitting over the monitors. Moon follows, and the door slams shut behind him. Most of the monitors are filled with static. The young man moves quickly, making a circuit around the room, pressing some buttons and rebooting the monitors so that they can reconnect to the Pizzaplex cameras. "I said that the virus was aggravated the other night, right?" Gregory says abruptly.

"Yes," Moon replies. He'd been present for the conversation, watching through Sun's eyes. "It caused the Incident, but was never removed?"

"Yeah. The intruder - she calls herself Vanny, she's the one who infected everyone at the time - I think she never left. I think it's her presence that infects everyone. Her presence, and... and his."

"His?" Moon echoes.

The young man glances at Moon, his lips pressed together. He's clearly very unhappy about whatever he's struggling to say. "It's... my dad's dad. He's basically a zombie trapped in an animatronic suit."

"A zombie," Moon repeats flatly.

"Yeah." The young man laughs bitterly. "It's more common than you'd think. Anyway, that doesn't matter right now. If I'm right, then tonight I think Vanny might-"

There's a sudden rush of static that fills the room, causing the human to flinch. Moon looks around, spotting a few monitors that don't seem to be depicting what they're supposed to be; instead they show a close-up image of the red-eyed rabbit that had been on the stage earlier. "Intruder!" Moon hisses, nearly growling. He can feel his machinery whir in response, incensed at her actions. This is wrong, all wrong. She needs to get out, now!

A giggle can be heard through the monitors, broken and cutting off at parts, but still clearly feminine. "There you are, Gregory," the rabbit says, the mask set in an unchanging smile. "Are you having fun yet?"

Moon is furious, and nearly misses the humorless grin that makes its way onto the young man's face. But he does notice, and pauses at the sight. It's different from the careless attitude the young man normally has. Right now... he looks angry. It looks familiar.

"Fuck you," the security guard says coldly. "I'll win this time. Just you wait."

Chapter Text

The monitors with the rabbit's face flicker, and all that's left on their screens are camera views of the Pizzaplex.

There's a moment of silence. Then, Gregory bursts into action. "The Glamrocks are converging on this location," he says curtly. "I need to force them into Safe Mode, but I don't know how to do that without getting killed."

Moon remembers when they had passed by Chica, so far above her that she never saw them. He recalls the strange lurch in her step, and the hunch in her shoulders. He thinks about everything Gregory has said - about the virus, about the animatronics, and about the Incident. The Glamrocks must be infected; that's the significance behind the pale-white rabbit with red eyes. And, according to the cameras, they're coming this way. They're dangerous.

"I can take down at least one Glamrock at a time," Moon says. He was programmed to be strong and fast, to be able to handle dangerous situations and assist the security guard. Of course, his strength and speed depended on the danger level of his opponent; on humans, he was... supposed to be less aggressive and more gentle. Although even that precaution had turned out to be useless when it mattered. "But I can only temporarily disable them for a short time. I would recommend giving me permission to decommission the Glamrocks until further notice."

The young man looks thoughtful. "I think disabling them should give me enough time to give an override command," Gregory says thoughtfully. He holds up his security card, waving it in the air. "I have the clearance to do that, although in the state they're in, I'll probably have to do it manually. I have no desire to get killed... but it should work."

"How long will an override take?"

"Like... ten or fifteen seconds at best."

"At worst?" Moon presses suspiciously.

"Well..." Gregory says, grimacing, but their conversation is interrupted by a sudden bout of growling and banging on all four security doors. In a moment, the young man darts to each door, slapping the buttons next to them. The doors crackle, a visible net of electricity appearing over each one for a brief moment before subsiding. "Glad to see the deterrent function is still here," the human says casually, like it wasn't enough electricity to kill him if he's not careful. "But I don't think there's enough power in that stupid back-up generator to keep it up all night. The office is barely functioning as it is."

Moon takes stock of the room, noting a few small vent covers on the walls, as well as a large grid-shaped vent that leads to the room below. Then he leans over the human and eyes the phone. "Isolate them," he says finally.

"What?"

"I'll contact you through your phone. If I use the vents, I should be able to locate and take down an animatronic after they're shocked by the doors."

The young man laughs. "Sure, I'll try." Moon rotates his head, connects to the phone, then nods and moves away. Slinking into the vent is almost effortless, with all his thin limbs twisting through the metal tube with little more than a soft scrape and a jingle of bells.

"Let me know when to act," Moon says. "I can detect which door is being used." His auditory sensors don't pick up his own words - he's speaking directly into Gregory's phone right now. He hears a noise of confirmation, so he focuses on pulling himself into a junction, curled up and waiting for the human to contact him.

It's strange, to hear the Glamrocks growling and thumping around outside the security office. There's no discernible pattern to their movement, as though they've simply lost their minds and are running only one or two programs at a time.

Moon can feel Sun's confusion and frustration in the back of their mind, as well as an overwhelming desire to take Gregory and run. They don't want this, having to hide and hope this human won't be hurt by a threat they can barely recognize. The thought of a virus that takes away their control is terrifying, and though their theory about Safe Mode seems to be right, what if it's not? The Glamrocks are popular and well-regarded. Seeing them turned into beast-like creatures is unnerving even for Moon. He ignored it, though, knowing that focus is vital right now-

Moon's connection with Gregory crackles. "It's Roxy," he says.

Moon reaches out, crawling fluidly through the vents toward where he last sensed a surge of electricity. He pops out, head hanging upside down, to see Roxanne Wolf stumbling away from one of the security doors, shaking her head and growling.

She sees him and claws the air, teeth bared.

"Nighty night," Moon laughs, his vision narrowing in on the wolf-shaped animatronic. She's outlined in red, a clear target; standing there, small and clumsy, just like prey. Moon launches himself at her, knocking her over in a flurry of limbs and metal. As her back slams into the ground, he reaches into her mouth and grabs the wires in her head, twisting and tearing them in a way he knows will force a reboot of her systems. It will hurt, he knows this well - the programmed pain will cause further disorientation, buying them precious time.

He can feel Sun wince in response, but he ignores his counterpart, instead speaking to Gregory, "Roxy's down."

The security door slides open, and Gregory runs out, sliding to a stop beside the twitching Glamrock animatronic. "I need her back!" he snaps.

Wordlessly, Moon leverages Roxy's body and pushes her over, knowing the loud clanking noise from the impact would only draw the others. But better to be quicker about it.

Gregory kneels beside her, pressing his security card to her back, causing a panel to slide open, revealing a digital screen that lights up with words and numbers. "Manual... shut down... reboot... Safe Mode, there it is," he mutters, fingers flying across the screen. "Password... access granted..."

Roxy stirs, groaning. Moon immediately grabs her wrist as she tries to push herself up, but he can feel her strength pulling away from him, and knows he can't hold her for long.

"Command enter... come on, come on..." Gregory says. His voice sounds as if he's trying to stay calm, but Moon can hear a hint of panic creeping into his voice. Then Roxy shudders and goes limp as Gregory hisses, "Finally!"

The sound of thumping approaches, so Moon grabs the young man and rushes them both back into the security office. The door closes just as two Glamrocks round the corner, hunched silhouettes in the darkness save for their glowing eyes.

"Thanks for not throwing me this time," Gregory says sarcastically, moving to the cameras. "Damn, it's Monty and Freddy. Doesn't look like they'll separate anytime soon."

As if on cue, the thudding and growling starts. Gregory presses the appropriate buttons, shocking them and sending them stumbling away.

Moon glances at the power - 64%, not great - then slides back into the vents, silicone-coated fingers dragging his body through the darkness with ease. They'll have to move a little faster if they want to finish this before the power runs out. Sun is practically screaming in the back of his mind, wondering why they can't simply take Gregory back to the Daycare, lock the doors, and wait until the night is over. Sun always felt safest where it was bright, a side effect of their unique programming. But the problem is the red-eyed rabbit, who Gregory had called Vanny.

She knows where they are, and is sending the Glamrocks after them in the hopes of - of what? Capturing Gregory? Killing him? Either way, running to the Daycare probably wouldn't be as safe as staying here, in the security office, with a solid plan to eliminate the threats as safely as possible.

Come to think of it, what game is Gregory planning on winning? What comes after this? The situation had made it more prudent to act now and ask questions later, but alone in the vents, Moon has the time to think on these questions and wonder about the hidden meaning in the young man's words. And as he thought about it, a new question crossed his mind: what did Gregory mean when he said that he'll win "this time"?

Moon feels a sudden surge of understanding from Sun. He sends back annoyance, and Sun can only manage unintelligible screeching before finally managing a clear message: Gregory has been here before. He might have even been here during the Incident!

It makes sense. It would even explain Gregory's familiarity with the Pizzaplex - of course none of the animatronics would remember him, not when their memories were removed. But why would anyone who experienced the Incident ever come back? And why would Gregory still have such a clear memory of that night when several years have passed?

There's no time to think on any of those questions, because then Gregory says, voice tight, "Chica's alone."

And so, Moon goes, taking down the Glamrock with relative ease. He wants to make it so they'll never move again, at least not for the rest of the night; but Gregory has a plan, so here they are. Doing manual overrides and risking lives. Showing mercy. Sun feels panicky at the danger, but even the Daytime Attendant admits this is a better treatment of the Glamrocks, despite the inefficiency of it all. Moon can't really fault him for that.

As Gregory manually activates Chica's Safe Mode, Moon hears a noise from the far side of the office.

"Monty is coming," he says to Gregory, his voice still crackling through the phone. It's more convenient to stay connected than to disconnect, utilize his voice box, and then reconnect. "We should hurry."

"What do you think I'm doing, bitch," Gregory mutters.

Moon cancels the protocol that tries to activate in response. Sun doesn't understand why, but it's funny. It's hilarious actually. Look at this little human, with a filthy mouth and a skilled hand at programming. What is even going on?

They go after Monty after Chica's Safe Mode is confirmed. Moon's hand gets twisted out of alignment in the process, but Monty goes down and is reprogrammed, letting them retreat back into the office with little trouble.

And then it's quiet.

"...Where's Freddy?" Gregory mutters, watching the cameras with a furrowed brow.

There's a faint noise, and Moon - about to crawl back into one of the upper vents - pauses. The noise wasn't from any of the downed Glamrocks; manual overrides that reprogrammed the consciousness of an animatronic often had the side effect keeping them down for an hour or so, barring any external stimulation. Was it Freddy? But the noise didn't come from any of the security doors... It came from below.

Three things happen very quickly.

First, the power comes back on, and Moon's AI is shoved to the back of their body as Sun takes over.

Second, animatronic fingers curl around the bars in the large vent grid on the ground, pulling it down with inhuman strength.

Third, Gregory screams as he falls through the opening.

"Wha - what-" Sun stammers, unprepared and disoriented from the sudden switch.

Moon slams against their mental bond, watching in horror as the human falls into the waiting arms of Freddy. Freddy, who has not yet been reprogrammed. Freddy, who is currently affected by the virus that can override all the safety protocols that keeps the animatronics from being dangerous to humans.

SAVE HIM! NOW!

Sun reaches out, but a moment too late. Gregory slips away, and though the young man twists violently, Freddy's managed to lock the young man in his arms. Gregory's arms are pinned to his sides, unable to grab his taser, or even struggle free.

Gregory screams. "Let me go, you motherfucking -" He cuts off, gasping, and Sun hears something grind. It's the human. Freddy's grip must be tightening. A human can't survive for very long without air. A human can't survive being squished, period. A human can be crippled or worse from the strength of an animatronic.

A shudder of fear runs through Sun.

No. No no no. Not again.

Children can't be hurt.

Children must NOT be hurt.

Sun's vision goes white, his protocols clamoring for attention, but not a single one of his programs are useful right now. Moon offers his own protocols. Sun takes them, transferring them to his queue in seconds, while at the same time shutting down his own programming to keep his protocols from interfering.

Sun requires an eighth of a second to adjust, letting his new protocols settle into place, and then he jumps down.

Sun removes the limbs of the animatronic in front of him. Those pose a direct threat to the child. He also removes the head. It contains a mouth and eyes that could prevent the animatronic from going down easily; leaving it in place is unnecessary. The chest plate can go, too, that's just common sense. Sun needs to dismantle the threat, now, before it can harm the children.

He picks up the child. There's a bruise on the child's face. They need to bandage it.

"...un!"

Sun crawls back into the security office, rummaging through the drawers as he keeps the child tight and secure in his arms. He locates a bandage. It's difficult to get it on the child's face - why does it keep moving? - but he makes it happen.

"Sun!"

Now they needed to leave. There is an intruder. A threat. The safety of a child takes priority over-

"Sun! Listen to me, you fucking idiot!"

Sun pauses.

There was something he was supposed to say to that. He hesitates, his programming reasserting itself in response.

"Language," he says automatically.

"Oh, so now you respond!" In his arms, the child - no, Gregory - yells, pounding on his chestplate. "If you don't put me down in three seconds, I'll taze you until your hardware burns into ash!"

Sun puts Gregory down.

"Oh." The human looks surprised. "Thanks. The heck was that about? You looked scary as hell back there."

Sun hesitates. "...I'm afraid security protocols overwhelmed my usual programming," he admits. "We... weren't expecting a situation like that to occur."

"Yeah, neither was I." Gregory glances down the open vent, then shudders. "Goddamn. Thanks for saving me."

"Of course." Sun returns the security protocols to Moon, although he keeps a copy of them in his own queue. Just in case. "However, we should consider moving - I think the office has been compromised."

"No kidding." Gregory unhooks his taser from his belt, looping it around his wrist. For easier access - despite all his bluster, Gregory must be aware of how close he was to death just now. "Let's see... is Moon still there?"

"Yes."

"I think the lights turned on at that moment to screw with us. Vanny's probably watching us from somewhere else." Gregory grins, a violet gleam in his eyes. "I think I know where," he says softly, almost too softly for Sun to hear - which is remarkable, considering how good the animatronic's hearing is.

Sun takes a step toward Gregory, but the human takes a step back. "Whoa there. I know it wasn't the virus, and I'm grateful you saved me, but give me some space. You know how fucking terrifying it was to see you rip Freddy apart?"

"Lan...guage..... I did what, now?"

"Ripped him apart. Not that it wasn't cool as hell, but geez, dude. Overkill, much?"

Sun flexes his fingers, recalling the last minute or so with some confusion. He remembers dismantling Freddy in order to free Gregory, but he doesn't think it was quite that violent.

"The metal screeched when you tore out his chestplate," Gregroy says.

Sun puts a hand to his faceplate, surprised. "Oh. I see." He normally tried to avoid loud, unpleasant noises or anything resembling graphic imagery to keep himself from scaring children. "Apologies, I am not used to activating security protocols; Moon is the one who normally handles that. If there is a next time, I can promise you I will have better control."

"Hope there isn't a next time, but don't worry about it. I just need some space." Gregroy consults his phone again. "Anyway, I think we should head down to the basement. I can't find Vanny on any of the cameras, so she's probably down there."

The human looks confident as he says that, but Sun is confused. "There is no basement in the Pizzaplex."

"Oh, there is," Gregory mutters. "Trust me."

Chapter Text

Gregory is having a hard time thinking. It's not like that one time he ended up caffeinated by the sundrops - no, this state of being is much more familiar. Exhaustion and stress are probably the main contributing factors, along with maybe a bit of madness; it's the same feeling as when he's just lost a distant relative, or when several deadlines are coinciding, scattering his thoughts with panic. His whole body is filled with the urge to do something, anything, but he hates feeling that way. He hates making hasty decisions, because he always regrets them later.

Isn't that how he got in this mess in the first place? A mess of scattered emotions that led him to accept the children. He's the one who chose to stay. Rejecting the name doesn't mean much if he's going to involve himself in the curse. Since he's the one who chose to be here, he needs to be clear-headed and do what needs to be done. Whatever that might turn out to be.

Except there's no time to clear his head. Scatter-brained it is, then. It's not like he hasn't forged onward with hardly a thought to spare before.

"Oh, here we go," he says. Sun follows his finger as he points toward a fenced and gated elevator in the back of Roxy Raceway.

Unsurprisingly, the animatronic looks unhappy. "That shouldn't be here," he says, examining the fence. "This area is under construction."

"Obviously it hasn't been touched in ages."

"Yes. My information seems to be incorrect," Sun agrees.

Sun then tries to talk him out of going into the elevator. The peeling paint on the walls, the mold-specked wood, and even the rust on the metal floor all seem to indicate that this is in fact very much not up to code. Highly unsafe, even. It should really have an Out-Of-Order sign, Sun rambles, ignoring the fact that it shouldn't even be here in the first place.

It's a rickety elevator that clearly doesn't belong. If anything, Gregory wouldn't be surprised if it broke and crashed at any point, although Gregory hopes it won't. It would hurt like hell to die like that, he's sure.

Gregory just walks in and waits. After a moment, Sun follows, grumbling about how he'll have to be very careful and make sure Gregory doesn't cut himself on anything. As the elevator begins to move, the rattling only seems to make Sun even more antsy.

There's only a few minutes of silence before the animatronic speaks again. "How did you know about this?" Sun asks.

Gregory looks around, mouth twisting. Strangely enough, he's not scared. Last time, he remembers his stomach tying itself into knots, and Freddy's stolen eyes staring down at him in tense silence. This time, it's just Sun and him, and yet, it feels different. Maybe it's because he knows what he's doing, this time. Or at least, he hopes he does.

Gregory drags his thoughts back to Sun's question. "When I was little," he says, but then he stops. Was that too much information? Although he had been trying to keep his past and his present separate, tonight was breaking all those boundaries. He shrugs it off and forges on. "When I was little, I got lost and ended up here. I was following the rabbit. And - and we played a game. I lost, that time."

Sun seems to frown. "Vanny is very dangerous. You have a plan, don't you?" His tone sounds rather doubtful, which is a reasonable reaction. Gregory considers telling the truth and admitting that he does have a plan, but it's not a very good one. Then he discards the thought. He doesn't need the overprotective Daycare Attendant to somehow turn the elevator around.

"Vanny's just a pawn. Anyway, she's not the one I'm after," Gregory says. It's not quite an answer, and Sun eyes him suspiciously. But the animatronic says nothing.

The elevator finally stops. They wait for a moment for the doors to open, but they don't. Gregory moves toward the doors, reaching out and pushing on them lightly.

They fall with a loud thud.

"This is very unsafe," Sun mutters again, following Gregory into the dark. And then it's Moon, with his soft, glow-in-the-dark stars and his shining blue eyes. The animatronic follows Gregory silently down the dark pathway, making no comment on the broken debris of Fazbear items littering the ground. Even his bells make little noise other than an occasional jingle as he walks.

Gregory is grateful. There's voices in his head, and bright colors seem to flicker before his eyes. The ghosts are awake, and they're eager.

The restaurant comes into view. The neon lights are flickering badly, and it's barely lit. Some letters are missing, but the sign itself is still visible: Freddy's Pizza Place.

"What is this place?" Moon says, and the question startles them. An animatronic who doesn't know their own history? Oh, how far this rotten company has come! No longer are all its animatronics haunted by vengeance; now, some of them have souls untainted by anything other than sentient programming.

They laugh at the thought.

"It's where Mr. Afton went into the spring trap," they say. "We're gonna have to take him out, tonight. He's been having too much fun."

"And... he's not supposed to have fun?"

"It's supposed to hurt. It did for us, after all." They're not laughing anymore.

But then Gregory remembers Moon's presence, a thought that grounds him back in his own body. The ghosts in his head are excited; he thinks they might actually claw their way out of his skin with pure, unbound joy. Or is that hate they're feeling?

He can't remember the last time he was certain it was his own emotions he was feeling. But then, that's just how it is, now. It's fine. Probably.

"Gregory."

He stops, surprised at the concern in Moon's voice.

"Are you alright?" the Daycare Attendant asks.

He wants to answer. He wants to tell the truth - because right now, what would be one more truth among all the other things he's already revealed? It's almost over. Is there a point in hiding things anymore?

Except there's no real way to explain it. And they don't have the time.

Especially when he sees Vanny emerge from the doors of the old restaurant, a knife in her hands and a skip in her step. She waves with her free hand, head tilted at an angle. "Hello, Gregory," she says, voice carrying through the cavernous passageway with ease. "I've been waiting for you."

"Funny way of showing it," he snaps.

Vanny has the nerve to giggle. There's something wrong about her, and he can't figure out what it is. Other than the whole insane-and-dressed-as-a-bunny thing, obviously.

"Mr. Afton is this way," she says, turning and vanishing into the depths of the restaurant.

Gregory moves forward, but before he can take another step, there's a cold hand on his wrist, stopping him. Moon peers down at him, looking almost frustrated. "We're going to follow the killer rabbit into this dilapidated building," Moon says, his voice flat.

Gregory rolls his eyes. "Well, we're not turning back now. That'd just be a waste of time."

Moon lets go. "Just wanted to make sure." He ruffles Gregory's hair briefly, which is odd, considering the circumstances. But Gregory ignores it.

Getting distracted is the last thing he wants.

Chapter Text

There has always been a part of Gregory that knows he isn't the type of person to choose peace. It's a concept that's never really his to choose, because everyone else always picks violence. He knows that - and that's why he makes sure to pick it first. In his words, in his actions, and even in his relationships, he makes sure to hit first.

It had served him well before. The world is a dangerous place after all, and if he turned his back on the wrong person - wouldn't it be his fault if a knife ended up in his back?

It's not just him who thinks that.

It's everyone else too, the ones inside his head. They tell him all about how it feels to die. The little brother who was scared and couldn't fight back. The little girl who trusted the bright, colorful bunny. The little sister who was all alone. And others, too, who were unlucky.

They tell him about the curse. About their pain, and about how they should have never, ever even come close to the Freddy Fazbear franchise. About how they want everything to burn, and burn, again and again and again.

They know hell is waiting for them. Peace only lasts but a moment for ghosts like them.

It was a mistake to bring him back, they muse. She was angry, and she had acted rashly. They've had a lot of time to think about it since then. Gregory agrees with them; their revenge is justified on every level, and there was little they could do that he wouldn't agree with.

But tonight is a little different.

Because tonight, he had chosen to try and save the animatronics, even though it was more dangerous than just letting Moon tear them into pieces. Sun had done it easily enough, and even though the sight of Freddy on the ground had caused joy and delight to surge through them, it had also... made him sad.

Because the animatronics were people. And while he hated Freddy, seeing him like that had just reminded him of the others.

And Gregory is a little attached to the others.

But as he and Moon follows he rabbit down the dark, dank hallway, he knows there will be a choice to make here. The ghosts are clamoring in his head, now, as eager as starving hounds who've caught the scent of blood. He can feel his hands twitch as anger, deeper and darker than anything a living human could possibly feel, floods his brain until he's not sure if he would be able to hold himself back once he sets eyes on the dead man.

When he does see the man, though, everything goes quiet.

His first thought is that Springtrap looks rather... pathetic.

The rotten animatronic bunny is strung up by wires and cables that extend into the ceiling, leaving him looking limp and empty. The endoskeleton still has rotted flesh intertwined with it, but there's not much left.

His eyes are closed, and there's hardly anything to indicate that he isn't already dead.

The rabbit giggles. "Mr. Afton! I brought some guests!"

There's a low wheeze, and then the animatronic's eyes slowly open. They glow a dim purple, flickering slightly. "...Not... a child..."

"This is Gregory! Don't you remember?"

And then the rotting animatronic's form flickers, flashing brightly, before a phantom copy drops to the floor.

It's the bunny, but wrong. His form is transparent, but green and glitchy, and his eyes are bright this time. The voices in Gregory's head laugh at this. They mock him for being unable to move his broken body, for having to rely on something electronic and incorporeal.

They laugh, too, at Vanny, for her obvious discomfort at this change in appearances. She draws away, standing in the shadows with her hands behind her back.

The voices in his head are cruel. But they deserve to be that way. The world's been cruel to them first.

"I most certainly do," the glitchy bunny says, a smile on his voice. "Gregory! The little brat that tore this place apart so many years ago. Ten, was it? A whole decade. This place didn't reopen for a whole month! Very inconvenient."

Gregory's lips twist into a smile. "Happy to help," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, yes, I imagine you would be. Children always like to help, even if it means getting in the way of everything." The glitchy bunny snaps his fingers. "Actually, I'm quite glad you're here! It must mean - ah, Vanessa, you must have failed, hm? I quite clearly said no adults, only children. Children go missing all the time, but adults... I'll have to have a talk with you later."

Vanny doesn't reply. She only takes another step back, pressing herself into the wall. Her mask, of course, remains set in the same smile as before.

"Why'd you want to see me?" Gregory asks.

The voices in his head don't like that. They don't care, because no matter what this monster wants, it's never for something good. This dead man is evil itself, they scream, and Gregory can only agree.

He's still curious, though.

The glitchy bunny's smile seems to grow. "Because you - you're the last living Afton, aren't you?"

It's quiet again.

The ghosts in his head are very, very still. In the corner of his eye, Gregory can see Moon. The animatronic has been quiet this whole time, but at this moment, he thinks he sees the Daycare Attendant grow stiff. He never told Moon about the Afton family, did he? He couldn't possibly know the horror that this statement implies; he must just be reacting to the weight of the situation at hand.

Gregory takes a deep breath. "I'm not."

"Oh? But Michael was so very fond of you. Even if you're adopted, don't worry! You can still be part of the family!" The bunny waves a finger, sounding rather gleeful.

Something painful claws at Gregory's throat. "You saw my dad?" he manages to ask.

Michael never came back. Gregory knows this very well - he waited for years for him to return. Which means he was either dead, or... something else. Something horrible. The ghosts were the ones who told him all about the horrible alternatives.

The ghosts are the ones who made sure that Gregory would never be ignorant of the world around him.

"You know where my dad is?" Gregory thinks to ask, and his voice sounds distant.

The glitchy bunny giggles. It sounds, infuriatingly, a bit like Vanny. "And you don't? What a horrid, useless son you are. I suppose that's something he passed onto you!"

"He wasn't. Useless."

"He ruined my restaurant's reputation with that little stunt he pulled with his brother," the bunny says, almost fondly. "But that's not the point. You are an Afton, whether you like it or not, and I've a gift for you, dear grandson."

Gregory's mouth opens, then closes. It feels, suddenly, like he's going to throw up.

He feels a cold, mechanical hand on his back. Moon's face drops into view, red eyes locked on him with something like concern. "Why aren't we tearing him apart?" the Daycare Attendant hisses. Some sharp points are poking out of his faceplate, and Gregory thinks it might be Sun's rays.

"Why, because we're civilized folk. Aren't we?" the bunny says.

Gregory's vision goes white.

"What's the gift?" he says, but the voice isn't his.

The glitchy bunny doesn't seem to notice. "Why, my legacy of course! Blueprints, for one. Oh, I haven't had the opportunity to do as much as I wanted to, with my body being out-of-order and my assistant being worse than useless, but you - oh, you could do so much and more! And of course, once you take in my soul, this world..."

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want anything from you," the voice coming from Gregory's mouth says. It's a soft, whispered voice that, if listened to closely, sounds almost like a chorus of quiet children.

The glitchy bunny just laughs. "Well, does it look like I care? Kid, I know you hate me. I can recognize hate when I see it. But what are you going to do? Burn me alive? Break my body? That's been done a thousand times already. And if you don't take my gift... well, those animatronics above us? I can take control at any time and make your life a living hell."

Moon grips Gregory's shoulder. "We've activated Safe Mode," the Daycare Attendant says. "You can't do anything."

"As if a little program has ever stopped me before. I have years ahead of me. I'll find a way around it. I always do." The glitchy bunny claps his hands. "I can see myself in your eyes," he says. "My sons and daughters had it too, but they were put to rest ages ago. You're the only one left, and if you don't accept my gift, Gregory, then I'll simply continue on as I have. I don't think you want that, though. I think you're smart enough to know what choice you should make."

Moon looks angry.

So are the ghosts. It hurts as they rip themselves from his body, their laughter and screams overlapping as they tumble into the air. The shadowy figures are small - they're children, each and every one of them - but they turn into a seething mass of indistinguishable silhouettes that make even William Afton step back.

But they are silent, now. And Gregory, his head calm and quiet once more, speaks.

"I know what this is," he says softly. "Because I could destroy the animatronics; instead of trying to kill you, and fail, or accept your stupid gift, I could just break them instead. I could wreck and ruin them until they fear moving outside of their programs and protocols. You want me to murder."

"Well, I certainly didn't say any of that, but I'm glad to see that you're smart enough to figure it out on your own! Yes, they are a pain, aren't they? I wouldn't mind that, either. But, is it murder if we're already dead?" the rotting animatronic sneers. "Of course, it doesn't matter. Besides, I can simply take control again, any time I want. This curse won't end until I do, and I-"

"Always come back. Yes, I know. Dad told me you were fond of the phrase."

The dead man looks almost smug. "Then end it. End it, Gregory, one way or another. Will guilt keep you from making the choices that will you keep you alive? I've watched you, Gregory. You're like me. You'll do anything you want if it keeps you alive and sane, even if you have to destroy everything around you in the process!"

The curse would never end; the cycle of bloodshed would never cease. Everything this bastard had worked for, everything he had ever wanted - pain, death, and suffering - would endure.

And then, as if in response to the tension, Gregory smiles, despite the gruesome ultimatum laid before him.

"The thing is," Gregory says softly, "I'm not like you."

There's a moment of silence. The machinery and crackle of unstable ground is the only sound; his voice seems to echo, as if the very restaurant - burned, buried, and rotten - didn't believe his words.

"I like them," he continues, and it's just him saying this, for now. "I think they're people, now."

"You-"

"I think killing them is unnecessary at this point, you know? We figured out how to block you. We can do it again. And, besides, they're not the problem here." Gregory cocks his head, staring down at William Afton with a cold, flat eyes. "You are."

"Look, boy-"

"Shut up." The words cut through the air. "Dad spent his whole life looking for you. He knew that you were the problem. He wanted to make up for all his mistakes, and you - you're the one who made life hell for so many people."

The glitchy bunny snarls. "That useless son of mine doesn't matter right now. He couldn't even put his own sister back together!"

"He shouldn't have had to try!" Gregory yells. "You're the one who set traps for your kids. You're the one who made the machines in the first place! You're the problem here!" The shadowy children twitch at that, and something about them makes the glitchy bunny take another step back.

"And what do you think will change anything?" Springtrap asks, standing tall.

The ghosts speak through Gregory, just as they always have. He doesn't mind. Not now. There's too much anger in him, their's and his all mixed together, and he doesn't think he could say anything more without incoherently screaming in this bastard's face.

They say, "You'll join us in hell."

"I've already been there," the dead man says, but then the children approach, grabbing at him with their tiny hands, and he struggles, fear sparking in his eyes. "You're ghosts! You're all dead! Let me go!"

"So are you," they chorus. "You should have stayed dead but I," and here a single girl's voice rises above the rest, "I just wanted you to suffer a little bit more. So I put you in the spring trap and watched you be in pain. It was so much fun."

The glitchy bunny is dragged by the mass of children to the rotting animatronic shell that's hanging from the ceiling. He kicks wildly, but they push him, as unstoppable as the tide, into the shell.

"But you're having too much fun," they chorus.

"You're... all..." the bunny says, but now he's speaking through the animatronic's rusty mouth, and the words are weak. His phantom tries to leave, but the children's shadows bind him there.

They're all laughing. They're all screaming. Distantly, as though it's happening to someone else, Gregory feels Moon pulling him away from the sight. Black flames seem to flicker on the ground, and cables and wiring comes to life, thrashing in time with the cacophony of noise.

Their voices continue to spill from his mouth. "Don't worry. We'll go back to hell together. Don't you miss it? We do. We miss crawling through the darkness, knowing you'll fail at any moment and die to our hands again. We miss playing with you. We miss you. We want you dead. We want you gone. We want you to suffer, like you should, and we'll fix our mistake. You'll never leave us again."

It's dark, now. Which is weird, because there were supposed to be some lights. Not enough to affect Moon, but there had been something, hadn't there? Enough to see.

Gregory's vision is fading, for some reason.

"We'll all be in hell together," he says, laughing with voices that aren't his, but they are, aren't they? They've been his for as long as he can remember, keeping the memories of that worst night alive in his mind, haunting his dreams. "We'll make you proud, murderer."

Now there's screaming that's different from the rest, carrying the tones of an adult, and Gregory smiles reflexively. That old bastard's smug attitude was finally gone, wasn't it? Serves him right.

And then everything goes black.

Chapter Text

Gregory wakes up, the blurry sight of a yellow ceiling swimming into view. It's the wrong color, of that he's certain, and he frowns as his brain slowly works it's way into consciousness.

It's soft and warm, which is also weird. He's certain his own bed isn't nearly so comfortable. In fact, it's normally a little cold, a fact that often goes unnoticed when he wakes up from a nightmare, his muscles tensed and ready to run. That's weird too, come to think of it - the lack of a lingering nightmare.

And then his memories return, and his whole body shudders once.

No more than that - he quietly regains control with the practice of someone who's gone through this a million times. The ghosts had given him enough nightmares to scar anyone. He knows how to deal with it, even if it's in probably one of the more unhealthy ways, at least it's quick and efficient.

He buries his feelings and sits up, looking around the unfamiliar room with some trepidation.

The sight that greets him, though, is so peaceful in appearance that it's almost jarring.

It's wrong.

But he forced himself to focus on his surroundings anyway. There are a few stuffed toys on the floor, and some wires. There's boxes and papers and crayon drawings stacked in the corners. There's a tables and some shelves and some cloth hung from the walls like a little tent.

The room is small, which helps. There's less to look at, less to register and examine. It's only got one entrance, covered in red curtains, which makes him feel a little cornered, but at least that means there's only one entrance to watch.

And then he hears the children.

It's the Daycare. It must be - that would explain the plushie replicas of Sun and Moon on the floor, and would explain the almost childish drawings that were hung so lovingly on the walls. This must be Sun and Moon's room, the one that's way up on the balcony, unreachable by anyone other than the Daycare Attendant - as well as any other animatronic that might bother to sneak in.

Gregory finds the tension easing even more, bit by bit until he's almost relaxed inside the nest of quilts and blankets he's wrapped in, feeling rather safe.

There's also a container near him, and when his stomach growls suddenly, he decides to investigate it.

There's a sticky note on top of it. It says, "Gregory's snack!"

He lifts the lid. It's a bento. He hadn't known the Pizzaplex even sold this stuff - he hadn't yet gotten around to properly using Monty's map of food recommendations, having been busy with glitches and exams -  but it's nice to see. There's a plastic fork, and he uses it to shovel the food into his mouth. Hunger makes his stomach ache as he eats, as it always does when he finally acknowledges his own bodily needs, but he eats and eats until it fades into the background. At least it's filling, and even better, he hadn't had to pay for it. Free food always goes down easier.

When he's done, he puts down the fork and container, and his hands are shaky.

He forces them to stop.

Instead, Gregory shucks off the rest of the blankets, and goes about exploring the room. He doesn't bother with the curtains, he knows the long fall to the ball pit isn't really healthy for humans. He does find a second adjoining room with an old arcade game and more mess on the floor, as well as a small exit that seems to lead out into an empty hallway. It's tempting to take it, to slip away and go home. He's done what he came here to do. He can go home for good now. He doesn't even have to say good-bye - he can just send in his notice and quit, right here and now.

He doesn't.

But he does crawl through the exit, and walks down the hallway. There's noises again, the usual sounds of crowds and people that steadily grow louder as he approaches the public areas. It's still annoying. But at least it distracts him from the inevitable breakdown that's sure to follow. One can't break down in the middle of public crowds and laughing children. It's simply not allowed.

Or so he tells himself. He keeps telling that to himself as he walks all the way home. He'll have to deal with his work schedule and school work later, but for now, he deserves to go home and just... process.

It's an ugly sight, one he's glad no one else has to see. He cries a lot, shaking from the fear and anger and emptiness. He hurts himself by hitting things, but he managed not to break things, and that's what matters in the end. It's painful. Anyone who's ever said that crying makes you feel better doesn't know what they're talking about. His face just aches, all his bruises coming back with a vengeance and his tear ducts wrung dry. There's a sense of shame, too, for losing control, for being unable to stop when he wants to.

At least his stomach is full. He doesn't even throw up during his breakdown, and he's grateful to have at least that much.

Later, when he's washed his face and crawled back into bed, ignoring his computer and the papers on his desk, his phone rings unexpectedly.

Who could that be? His school? No, it couldn't be. Management, perhaps? Freddy was probably put back together before anyone noticed, but he was the main attraction. It wouldn't be off the mark for Gregory to lose his job over that. Then the ringtone cuts off, and the phone seems to answer itself. When Gregory hears Moon, though, he just lets it go. The animatronics seemed used to hacking devices, and frankly, he wasn't about to dig into that.

"Sun's worried about you," Moon says.

Gregory closes his eyes.

"I know you're there."

Gregory reaches out and pulls the phone close. "I went home," he says quietly, his voice hoarse from the crying. His mind is working slowly again, and it latches onto something from earlier. "Thanks for the bento."

"Of course. We figured you'd be hungry." There's a pause. "We would've watched you until you woke up - Sun wanted to, he was very, very worried - the Daycare is open today and we couldn't leave the kids alone."

Gregory nods. "That's good. Kids are important."

A longer pause this time.

"When the Daycare closed, we came to check up on you but. You're home. We didn't even notice." There's something that sounds like guilt in the Daycare Attendant's voice. "We're glad you're safe."

"Yeah."

"...We - I think you should take the - Sun wants to know when you'll be back." The animatronic sounds uncharacteristically hesitant, even restarting his sentence a few times, and Gregory wonders what kind of emotions could be causing Moon to buffer like that.

"...Later. I'll be back later," he mumbles.

It's sort of a promise.

Moon seems satisfied with that, and the connection ends. Gregory notices that there's not really a number attached to call history, but there's a redial option. He saves that and turns off his phone, rolling over and falling asleep.

Chapter Text

The ghosts are still there when he wakes up. They're hardly present, though, as if most of what they were is long gone, busy accompanying William Afton to hell; but Gregory can still feel them. It's manageable again, with little to agitate them in this empty apartment, so he ignores the feeling and gets dressed for work.

Honestly, he hadn't really bothered to change out of his work clothes last night, and now they're icky with grime and sweat. He takes a shower and gets dressed in a second set of work clothes, grateful he has that much. He grabs his name tag, fingers running over the blank, unmarked metal before stuffing that in his pocket. There's no point in wearing it, anyway. His little lie on the register is something all the animatronics probably know, now. Or maybe not. There's no point though. There really isn't. It was all a ruse, both to mess with the animatronics and also to keep the threat from recognizing him. It had failed in the end, so he doesn't even know why he bothered.

The walk back to the Pizzaplex is shorter than he'd like it to be.

Gregory takes a side entrance, this time, ending up somewhere in the back by the kitchen and the storage. It's an hour or two after closing, which means he's skipped his day shift again and that he's late for the night shift. He deserved the sleep though, so he quells the automatic panic and just lets himself be apathetic about the whole situation.

He's hungry again, which annoys him.

He pulls out the slightly crumpled map that he'd stuffed in his back pocket, unfolding it and smoothing out the edges. He's got nothing better to do, so he just examines the map and tries to figure out where the bento - the one Daycare Attendant gave him - had came from. It's vaguely local, convenience store food that he wouldn't have expected from the Pizzaplex, but then he spots it - a literal convenience store disguised as another gift shop, tucked away in some forgotten corner. Maybe they had planned to make a more adult-oriented area at one point. There's even a bar nearby, although it's dressed up as a restaurant for families, just like everything else.

When he enters the food court, he spots Monty lounging around at one of the tables. The crocodile - no, alligator - is lounging on one of the food court chairs, his ridiculously huge body somehow not crushing the metal table he's got his legs propped up on.

Gregory speaks before he can think better of it. "The fuck are you doing, you lazy ass?"

Monty looks his way, eyes unreadable beneath his star-shaped sunglasses. "Foul-mouthed little brat," he says with a chuckle. "So you're alive! Good for you."

Gregory tilts his head. For some reason, he'd almost expected the Glamrocks to forget again, just like last time. Overrides tended to do that to an animatronic. But then again, the technicians were the ones who had meddled with their memories last time; stands to reason that the Glamrocks would remember this time.

"Disappointed?" Gregory asks. It annoys him that he's actually curious, like he's expecting something; like he's nervous, even. After all, he had kind of left them all on the ground; in Freddy's case, also in pieces. Literally.

But Monty lowers his glasses just to roll his eyes at him. "Like I could care less. Troublemaker through and through, aren't you? I'd stay out of Freddy and Roxy's way for a bit, though. She's a bit peeved that you played us all for fools, and Freddy. Well." He huffs out a laugh, clearly not troubled at the idea of either of his bandmates being upset. But then, he's said to be much worse than any of them when he's angry, so whatever threat they could pose - it probably just amuses him.

Gregory nods. "I'll do that. Thanks."

"No problem." Monty flicks his glasses back up and crosses his arms behind his head, leaning back further than what seems physically possible. The chair definitely looks unstable. One good kick could send the alligator tumbling to the ground. But before Gregory can contemplate even trying, Monty speaks again. "Where you heading? Doesn't seem like you're working right now."

"Maybe I am," Gregory says, a note of challenge in his voice. "Maybe I'm patrolling."

Monty just grins. "I doubt you'd be carrying around my little map of food places if you were. Besides, you can't be working if you don't have your name tag. How will the customers know what to call you?" It's obvious that he's being sarcastic - there's no customers after closing - but it feels light-hearted enough that Gregory doesn't take offense. Anyway, he isn't really working.

"Thought I'd check out the..." He checks the name on the map. "...I'm not pronouncing that. It's near the coffee shop, Faz-Pad. Didn't eat before I came here, so why not, right?"

He doesn't eat at all, normally, other than a quick bite of a granola bar and whatever else he's scavenged from his cabinets, but he's hungry now, and there's a chance he might be able to grab something that won't be missed. The fact that it has a chance of tasting good is just a bonus.

Come to think of it, it's no wonder the stress of last night caused him to pass out. He's never really done that before, other than the few times when he was young; those times were so painful that he doesn't mind not remembering.

"Cool. Don't forget the beef bento is probably the best. And the chicken is absolute shit."

Gregory gives the alligator a mock salute before continuing on his way. He's sure that the bit about the chicken was an invitation to maintain the conversation by cracking a joke at Chica, somehow, but he's not really in the mood for a drawn-out discussion, so it's best to just move on.

The place is locked up, but he uses his keys to unlock it and let himself in. There's bentos on the shelf. He nabs one at random, tucking it under his arm as he leaves.

It's beef stew and rice. He eats it in seconds, and tosses the plastic fork and container into one of the many trash cans around the Pizzaplex. Gregory thinks he would've hidden in those, too, when he was little, if only they'd had removable lids. But then again, maybe not. Trash cans are pretty gross.

He wanders a bit more, idling in this corner and that. He even sits down on a bench, pulling out his phone and scrolling through the cameras, just for something to do.

Gregory is partially avoiding the other animatronics. He doesn't think they're actively looking for him this time - at least, he hopes not, and it seems unlikely - but all the same he has no desire to run into any of the band members. For obvious reasons. But he's also wasting time. For a reason he can't quite define.

After more than an hour passes, though, he admits defeat and makes his way to the Daycare. If he spends his whole night avoiding everyone, it'll be a long and boring night. He's still avoiding his schoolwork, too.

He lets himself into the Daycare. "Hey," he says, and then he registers how dark it is. Oh, so Moon's out, then?

Gregory blinks, then shrugs. As long as Moon doesn't grab him like last time, it should be fine. He takes a step forward -

- and immediately lets out a slew of curses as bright blue eyes drop down, stopping inches before his face. Moon's signature grin seems wider than usual as he says, "Language." There's no bite in his tone - he's probably just having fun watching Gregory hold back from bashing the little fucker in the face with a flashlight.

"You-" Gregory starts, then stops, letting out a sigh. "Goddamn you."

Moon blinks, and he lets out a noise that sounds like a laugh - rustier than Sun's voice, but reconizable all the same. He drops to the floor, twisting like a cat to land in a crouched position. His head rotates one way, then the other, spinning in a rather contemplative manner. "We're glad you're okay. Sun's been worried sick about you."

Gregory grins. "Tell Sun I'm perfectly fine - partly thanks to you, I guess. You lugged me all the way back up here last night, didn't you?"

"Yes. After you collapsed, we decided it would be best to leave."

"I appreciate that." Gregory pauses. "So... uh, did you have any questions, or..."

Moon shifts slightly. His stars are glowing again, and Gregory vaguely remembers seeing those stars in the darkness of the basement. The Fazbear company really invests in the most useless things sometimes. Although he could admit that this was kind of nice to look at.

And then the Daycare Attendant asks a question that Gregory wasn't expecting. "Have you seen a doctor?"

Gregory raises an eyebrow. "Wow, starting off with the easy questions, huh? I don't need a doctor, Moon, but thanks for asking. Besides, a visit is expensive. Didn't you know that?"

Moon stills. "Are they?"

"Yes." Gregory moves over to the security desk and sits down. "It's be nice if they weren't, but that's the kind of country we're in. Whoop-de-fucking-yay."

"Language," Moon says rather absently. "Also... In that case, may we have permission to examine you for health issues? We are equipped with rudimentary programs for examining children, which would allow us to make sure you're not seriously injured."

Gregory waves a hand. "It's fine, really. I slept off most of it, and anyway, I'm not a kid."

"May we have permission to examine you for health issues?"

Gregory eyes Moon a little suspiciously. "...No."

"May we have permission to examine you for health issues?" Moon says again, leaning back with his hands clasped, and the gesture is so reminiscent of Sun's politeness that Gregory actually squints at Moon.

"...Are you... just repeating yourself until I give in?" he asks.

Moon's smile doesn't move, but Gregory thinks the animatronic's eyes curve slightly. "Yes," the animatronic says, and wow, Moon sounds remarkably smug for someone who was afraid to even look at kids just a night or two ago. But that's a low blow, and Gregory lets that thought go unsaid.

"It's not going to take awhile, is it?" Gregory says instead, leaning back in his chair.

"It shouldn't."

"Be my guest, then." Gregory frowns. "Are you gonna have to ask questions, or..."

Moon makes a negative gesture. "I believe we already know... some of your physical condition. Why, do you have any existing injuries we should know about?"

"Not really," Gregory says without thinking.

"Other than the bruises from before. They've faded slightly, but they are still visible," Moon notes.

Gregory grimaces. "Right. Those. Forgot about that."

Moon's head clicks softly. "See? Now, hold still."

There's a flash of white  - bright but quick, like a camera flash - and then Gregory is blinking away the afterimages, mouth twisted in a frown. He hadn't expected that. "Well, doc?" he says, grinning drily. "Am I gonna die or what?"

"..."

The silence surprises him. He sits up, looking at Moon curiously. "What, I'm not actually gonna die, am I?"

The Daycare Attendant's expression is unreadable, his smile as thin as Gregory's ever seen it. Moon looks like he's thinking about something, and after a minute or two, Gregory is about to press him for answers when, unexpectedly, Moon reaches for the light switch and presses it.

Then Sun straightens, stepping close to the security desk and looming over Gregory until it feels a lot like he's about to be scolded by a teacher.

Being a Daycare Attendant and all, that must be part of their design.

"Gregory," Sun says, and while his voice is pleasant, it's also rather strained in a way that's vaguely worrying, "I must admit, this process is not always very accurate, and can only provide me with... basic details. So, please answer honestly. Have you been taking care of yourself?"

Gregory hesitates. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

From Sun's tight smile, he gathers that maybe that wasn't the right answer.

"...You are not going to die," Sun says finally. "However, I do believe some changes need to be made to keep it that way."

Oh crap. Was this an intervention? Gregory's not ready for that. He raises his hands, grinning. "Hey, it's not like I'm planning on fighting animatronics again any time soon-"

"That is not what I am talking about."

This is an intervention, isn't it. Fuck.

Chapter Text

Sun has encountered children who have been treated very poorly by their parents before. Children who are visibly malnourished, injured, or display concerning behaviors are always reported in the system - mainly for the sake of the staff and animatronics - but beyond updating their guest profile, little else can be done without the parents' consent. Diagnostics cannot be run, and without that... there's rarely anything to report to the authorities.

It can be very frustrating. When Moon was around, he would bend the rules more, and would sometimes completely break them in order to protect the children in their care. But ever since the Incident, Moon was unable - or unwilling, really - to interact with children, forcing Sun to step up and start bending the rules himself.

He was better at it than Moon, he discovered. Sun did not break the rules, not where he could get caught and reprimanded. He found loopholes and exploited them; he made up evidence and excuses to keep his record completely clean.

The thing about being a sentient robot is that humans rarely believe that he is, in fact, actually and completely sentient. That his programming could not be controlled by his consciousness when, in fact, it was the other way around. Sure, there were some things he simply couldn't do - like go behind the security desk - but if he so chose, he could do something like "fall" behind the security desk without setting off his internal protocols. It's a different story when the virus infects them, and turns them all into mindless robots... but regardless, if their programming says nothing is wrong, then the humans inevitably believe it's true.

Of course, Moon approves. Moon likes it when things are a little chaotic, and Sun would normally be a little exasperated about the whole thing, but since it's for the children, he lets it go. And if over the years, Sun becomes a little more comfortable with bending and breaking rules for his own sake too - well, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, it doesn't matter at all.

Except it matters now. It matters right now, because here is a human who is malnourished, sleep deprived, and injured; worse, Gregory does not appear to have any plans to improve his condition, instead acting rather dismissive and blasé about the whole situation.

Unacceptable.

Gregory is an adult, technically - at 23, any crimes that Gregory could commit would land him in jail, go on his permanent record, that sort of thing. He can also rent a car, drink alcoholic beverages, and all sorts of other things deemed appropriate for a human his age. Most importantly, as an adult, anything concerning Gregory requires consent from him, rather than from any sort of legal guardian.

Sun examines Gregory with a critical eye. Of course, that kind of permission won't be so readily gained this way... he can already see the human's tense shoulders, clearly unhappy with this turn of events.

Sun debates this conundrum for a few moments.

...This is a necessary intervention, he decides. Temporary authority will be transferred from this employee's guest profile to the Daycare Attendant.

Sun ignores the cackling in the back of his head. If Moon finds it funny, all the better. At least they're in agreement about this; if Moon was concerned, Sun would know he's pushing it too far. He might be, honestly, but - well. Who's going to stop him?

Instead, Sun looks down at Gregory, his smile in place as usual. "Of course, we don't have to discuss this now. Perhaps later." Gregory visibly relaxes. Right. The human probably thinks he'll be able to avoid this topic until the end of time, hm?

Moon's laughter echoes in their shared head again.

Sun tells the other AI to shut up for now.

Sun clasps his hands together. "Well, friend! Will you be patrolling tonight?" He's already examined the human's work schedule, becoming familiar with the horrendous amount of hours that Gregory has been working. It's ridiculous. What kind of human works this many hours? Without sleep? In addition, Sun - with the help of Moon, who's actually authorized for this kind of thing - has observed security tapes of the past few weeks or so and noticed that Gregory has also been doing schoolwork while on the clock.

Again. Absolutely ridiculous.

Gregory nods, saying, "Yeah, I've missed some shifts but it should be fine. I think I'll take it easy tonight, though."

Sun feels his smile thin slightly. "That's good! Why do I find that hard to believe, though?"

"Um."

"After all, you're quite the rulebreaker, aren't you?" Sun's faceplate clicks, and then he lets his smile return to its normal size. "Security protocols intended to aid the security guard, which is you, need to be activated manually!" As opposed to security protocols intended to respond to immediate threats. Sun doesn't bother to clarify; best to let Gregory feel as though he's in control of the situation. "In light of our current condition, both Moon and I would like to offer our assistance with your duties. As an apology for the trouble, and a thank-you for everything you have done."

"Oh." Surprise flickers across Gregory's face. That time when he had asked Moon for help must feel like a long time ago. "Yeah. Of course. I'd appreciate that."

Sun leans back, watching as the human exits the security desk to access the control panel on his chest. It only takes a moment, and then Sun feels the protocols become accessible.

"I thought only Moon has security protocols," Gregory mentions as he shuts the panel.

Sun chuckles. "We can share programs. It's just often easier to delegate roles by separating our capabilities. Rest assured, I can assist just as well if need be."

"Oh, neat."

Sun smiles in response.

If this allows Gregory to retreat to the office and rest, well, that's certainly a start. It will also give them much more free reign of the Pizzaplex without the need for supervision. All in all, a productive end result.

Sun has dealt with children many times. It is, he has learned, a lot like dealing with adults. It's just that children have less of a frame of reference for things, and sometimes have less words to describe how they feel. But children and adults feel very strongly at times, and very little at other times. The point is, all humans are different, but similar.

And as Sun retreats to the back of their mind, allowing Moon to go out and patrol for Gregory, Sun muses over the things he has learned about their security guard.

The physical aspect, of course, is abysmal. The lack of sleep is obvious. Sun was aware, of course, but... it seemed manageable. And after the disaster with the candy, Sun has tried not to interfere carelessly. However, after looking over Gregory's schedule, it's obvious that the human needs more sleep. A proper amount at proper times. Sun can sense Moon's agreement on this point. Moon might have been more insistent if Gregory wasn't the security guard; an employee who is on the clock is much harder to register as a human who should be taken care of, thanks to their programming.

Well. That can be fixed easily enough.

Sun runs through the other issues, listing them in their mind. Not eating enough food. Not resting enough to allow their wounds to heal. Being wounded, in general.

There's something else, too, something that their diagnostic systems can't quite catch.

If Sun were to try and put a name to it, he would say that Gregory is traumatized. But that's far too broad of a term to be of any practical use. There's an inherent wariness and callousness that Sun wouldn't know how to ease. Perhaps it's not something that needs to be addressed - not by the Daycare Attendant, anyway. They were never programmed to deal with this kind of thing. If they simply observe and adapt to Gregory, then that... should be enough for now.

Sun is drawn from his mental organization by Moon. The other AI is staring at a simple, plain-looking door, and it's the security office, the smaller one that Gregory spends his days and nights in when he isn't patrolling.

They're done with the patrols. It was quicker than Gregory's usual patrols, because even though the human has an excellent memory and moves very quickly, the Daycare Attendant is an animatronic that can crawl on the ceiling. There's no competition at all.

Moon wants to make Gregory sleep.

Sun notes that the other AI's plan consists of kidnapping Gregory and bundling him into a blanket burrito until he can't move. It's something they would sometimes do with the rowdy children, and although it can't be said that it's the most ethical method, it works. However, Gregory is an adult. An adult they can carry easily, but also an adult armed with a taser and a tenacious attitude. Someone could get hurt in the ensuing struggle.

It would probably be Gregory, which is the opposite of what they want.

Sun giggles in the back of their shared mind.

"Children should be sleeping right now," Moon says, and he's right. But Gregory is still working, which is something they can't change. Unless...

Moon points out that this job is Gregory's main source of income. Damn.

They'll have to figure out something out later. A permanent solution. For now, they set about planning on how to force Gregory to sleep for a decent amount of time, as well as how to feed him later.

It'll probably take a bit. The human seems as though he can get quite stubborn when he feels like it.

Chapter Text

Although the inside of the Pizzaplex does not have much in the way of windows, and can feel nearly timeless, some holidays are recognized and celebrated within its walls.

Holidays such as Halloween and Christmas often make opportunities for limited-time events and seasonal merchandise; customer traffic increases by a large amount during these times, so the company even puts in the extra effort to make the decorations more festive too.

It's said that Easter has been an awkward affair ever since Bonnie "retired." Although they use his likeness still, it's hardly a replacement for an animatronic bunny, and sometimes they rig a replacement attraction just to keep the kids happy.

But it's not Easter right now - it's Halloween, and that means an array of orange, black, and other such colors are spread around the halls, taking the form of streamers, lights, and a complete makeover in the form of a paint job on some of the more prominent areas of the Pizzaplex. Yes, that's right: a paint job, adding stripes of holiday color and adding some thematic elements to the characters on the walls. Fazbear Entertainment certainly knows how to cut corners, but when they decide they want to do something, money flows as freely as water to get it done. Even some of the neon light signs and carpeted floors are taken down and replaced with suitably themed ghosts and pumpkins, transforming the Pizzaplex entirely.

It feels like it happens overnight. It really only takes a day or two, during which the Pizzaplex has to close. It's a rare occurrence, and one would think that the Pizzaplex would stay open despite the scheduled renovations - that's how they always did things, after all - but Gregory doesn't even question it when his schedule shows that he's off during those days. He takes the opportunity to catch up on his schoolwork, fudging some of the quizzes and cursing the late penalty that means 10% of his grade is already spoken for. At least it's something, though. Better than a flat zero, which would definitely ruin his chances at passing the class.

With a 'good' grade, anyway. Sure, he could technically pass with a D, but that would be pretty... unimpressive, to put it nicely. And his grades have to be impressive, or at least decent, if he wants a shot in hell at getting his degree and having it actually mean something. Which, well, he could always just stop and give up, but he's feeling stubborn enough to get through this bit, so he shoves that thought aside for now.

The first day he actually gets to bed early, but his sleep schedule is so fucked that he finds himself on his phone until 5 in the morning. It's not great, really, when he looks up and realizes that the sun's started rising. Even worse, he hasn't even done anything productive.

He ends up sleeping, but then he finds himself waking up at 2 in the afternoon. Equally not great. Even worse, the unscheduled hours of sleep seem to have fucked with his neck, making it ache in a way that's only eased when he digs a fist into the offending muscles. This isn't how he'd wanted his unexpected day off to go - especially since he knows he'll have to go to work when it ends, and it's already the second day, damn - and he contemplates life for a moment, wondering when it all went wrong.

He can't really think of one defining moment. Maybe his life is just a series of things going wrong. Maybe he's just gotta roll with the punches a bit longer, just like he always does.

Maybe if the ghosts could stop murmuring in the back of his head, he could think a little more clearly about what to do for lunch. Breakfast. Whatever meal this qualifies as.

The ache in his neck eases and his brain clears and he remembers that he's out of food again. Except for the box of granola bars on the counter, flavorless and crunchy but filling when he's hungry. His stomach tries to eat him from the inside out, so he reluctantly stands and unwraps a bar, chewing it with all the enthusiasm of someone eating cardboard. Sure, it tastes better than that, but he's been spoiling himself lately with food from the Pizzaplex. Maybe he should start actually buying some of it, just to take it home. Or he could visit Chica again, just to see if she'll share her creation with him.

But the thought of Chica reminds him of their unresolved game of hide-and-seek. She'd been looking for him, after he'd accidentally triggered her virus-induced rage. He might have scared her, putting her in the Parts and Services room, but she'd bruised him during the operation, so he thinks that he doesn't feel that sorry for her. He still doubts that she wants to see him for any good reasons, though.

His stomach still growls after he finishes the granola bar, but it probably just needs time to digest. He crumples the wrapper, throwing it in the trash. Now there's bile in his throat, but that'll pass too.

Gregory thinks maybe he should just go back to sleep. That would probably make Moon happy, although he's not quite sure what the Naptime Attendant's thoughts are on sleeping through the day. Anyway, if he stays awake, he'll just be hungry and sore. There's nothing to do, except maybe schoolwork that won't be due in a few weeks. Literally, there's no point in being awake.

Gregory stumbles to his bed and burrows under the blankets, closing his eyes and pretending that the world doesn't exist. Thankfully his blankets are thick enough to block out the light; he doesn't need the added indignity of trying to sleep with daylight burning through his eyelids.

It doesn't feel like he's slept at all when he finally wakes up, which just makes him feel cheated out of the whole experience. Sleeping is supposed to restore energy, isn't it? Then again, he vaguely remembers the fun little thing called 'sleep debt,' and he supposes that his own debt is probably way too large at this point for a few extra hours to make much of a difference. He goes through the motions of getting ready for work, grateful that at the very least, his head doesn't hurt. Maybe there was something to this whole sleeping thing if it spares him a headache.

He grabs his keys, and is about to leave when his phone rings. It answers itself, and Gregory has a moment to think about how that's probably illegal when Sun's voice comes through, saying cheerfully, "Hello Gregory! How are you today?"

"...Doing fine, I guess. Why're you calling me?"

"Oh, yes! So sorry." Sun clears his throat, or something that sounds like the robot version of it. "You're aware of the Halloween renovations, right?"

"Yeah, the whole reason I got a breather from work," Gregory says, leaning against the table. "What about it?"

"Well, there will be some Halloween events too! Trick-or-Treat for the little ones, some additional activities with the band, all sorts of fun things!" Sun sounds genuinely cheerful, and Gregory can't help but grin in response. "There's even going to be a costume party!"

Gregory's aware that there'll be holiday events. It's nice that Sun is excited about it too, despite only being able to conduct whatever activities the little ones in the Daycare can do. "Too bad I have to work, otherwise I'd be pretty stoked to try some of those things out," he says, finally getting out the door. He juggles his phone and his keys, managing to lock the door without losing his grip on either. "What're you most excited for?"

"O-oh, um." Sun seems unprepared for the question. Gregory realizes he was wrong, though, as Sun says, "Actually, I was talking about the events for the staff!"

Gregory frowns. "For the staff? There's no staff at the - oh! The company arranges stuff for you guys, too?"

"Ah, um."

"That's cool!" he says. He means it, too. "I would've figured they'd be too stingy to do something like that."

Sun is silent for a few seconds. Then the connection crackles as he speaks, "Actually, it's more of a tradition! We often get bored, and it seems like such a waste to let things sit through the night."

Oh, this was one of the not-quite-approved activities that the animatronics did to amuse themselves at night. Gregory snickered a little. "I see. Makes sense."

"And," Sun says a little loudly, "We were wondering which activities you're looking forward to! Since you are part of the staff, too. You are an employee here."

His voice seems to emphasize the last bit a little too much. Which, rude. Gregory isn't that stupid. He just, maybe, forgot that he is also technically staff. To be fair, sometimes security guards aren't in-house hires, but are instead paid by a different company to work at specific locations. Shit like that gets complicated. So sue him.

"Haven't thought about it," he says honestly. The Pizzaplex is coming into view, and there's a street he needs to cross. He tells Sun good-bye and hangs up the phone.  No need to get run over after all that effort to stay alive.

Plus, getting run over sounds like a pretty shitty way to go. Getting slammed by a large, blunt object and bleeding out on the asphalt? No thanks. He knows exactly what that would feel like, thanks to the nightmares his little friends gave him every night. He doesn't need to experience it for himself.

When he enters the Pizzaplex, he's vaguely annoyed to see the Halloween vibes have really sunk into the usual decor. He'd kind of been hoping that despite all the renovations, it'd end up largely unchanged, but no such luck. It's almost offensively Halloween-themed. Not that he's got anything against the holiday itself, but anything to do with the Pizzaplex just gets on his nerves.

He sighs.

Back to work as usual, hm? For some reason, that doesn't make him happy at all. Wonder why.

Chapter Text

Having a headache is pretty much the norm at this point, Gregory decides. Some days he can feel the headache ready to ambush him at any moment, and most of the time he manages to keep it at bay. It requires a lot of water, careful maneuvering of his head, and avoidance of stressful things.

And some days it just creeps up on him until he can feel his head pounding with every step.

Today, he realizes, has a high chance of turning out to be the latter. He can feel it already, a light throbbing in the back of his skull. Or is it behind his eyes? He can't quite tell, but the pressure is definitely there.

Gregory considers his options.

He's already inside the Pizzaplex, so he can't exactly leave. He's finished his homework, so perhaps he can at least avoid staring at screens for awhile, or at least as much as possible. Although with all the neon and artificial light in the Pizzaplex, he doesn't think his avoidance of screens will help much. Maybe if he sticks to the darker areas, it'll work out.

He considers visiting the Daycare and catching up with Sun and Moon, but he's frankly a little too tired for that. He also considers confronting the Glamrocks - because Monty might be chill but he's sure the others aren't - but he's also unprepared to deal with that particular shitshow.

He ends up doing what he normally does, which is head to the smaller security office and closing the door behind him. It's not pleasant to sit in the quiet room with nothing to do, but considering his oncoming headache, it's certainly better than the alternative.

Gregory almost sighs with disappointment when his phone buzzes. It's a message from the company - something about a warning to not tamper with the animatronics outside of necessary interventions - and he ignores it. This company could probably destroy a normal employee with very little effort, but between his non-existent records and his knowledge of what exactly goes on in their basement, he's not exactly afraid of what they'll do.

If they tried to fire him, he'd probably just reapply and get the job again. If they tried to kill him, well, he has it on good authority that dead people don't have to actually die, and he doubts they could catch him if they tried. Ruin his reputation? Again, he doesn't have a reputation. Get him expelled from his school?... That one would hurt, but it's not like he can't just transfer his credits to a different identity, should the need arise. After all, the Daycare Attendant isn't the only animatronic capable of hacking electronics.

Gregory grimaces at the thought. Doesn't mean he particularly wants to have to take that route. It's just available to him if he needs it.

Pain blooms behind his eyes, reaching toward the top of his left temple, and he belatedly remembers that he was supposed to be avoiding stressful things. Great fucking job, he thinks, massaging his face in the hopes of making the headache ease.

It does, after a bit, and he closes his eyes and thinks of non-stressful things - which, in light of recent events, is pretty damn difficult - but the moment doesn't last. There's a clanking sound from the vent, and Gregory is instantly on his feet, taser in one hand and flashlight in the other. On a human, just the flashlight would probably be enough, considering its weight and size. But he wants to be prepared, just in case.

He's supposed to be the only human here after closing, after all.

The clanking sounds continue, sounding like something crawling through the vents. Which, of course, is pretty concerning, especially considering the speed of whatever it is, and the fact that it's clearly heading straight toward the office.

When the clanking stops just before the vent cover, Gregory turns on the flashlight and peers inside warily.

A miniature Music Man - wind-up music man? Little music man? He can't keep the names of these things straight - stares back at him, head cocked like a bird waiting for breadcrumbs. It waves its arms, and he notices that instead of the usual cymbals, it's holding an envelope in either hand.

...Well, that's interesting.

"Is that for me?" he asks curiously.

The Mini Music Man nods, pushing one of the envelopes through the holes in the vent cover. Gregory grabs it before it hits the floor. In spite of himself, he's curious, so he runs his finger under the flap and peels it open, unfolding the letter to scan its contents.

thank you

Sorry for everything

see you soon (in better circumstances this time, I hope)

-V

The handwriting is shaky, and smudged in places, but he can put two and two together to figure out that this is probably a letter from the only other person he's ever known to a) step foot in the Pizzaplex and b) be vague and ominous about her name that starts with a "v".

He's not sure whether to laugh or sigh. He meant what he'd said about her just being a pawn, but he can't deny the fact that he doesn't really like her either.

Gregory shrugs to himself. That, too, is an emotional road bump that can be tackled another day. He puts the letter down and glances at the Mini Music Man, holding out a hand. "Can I have the other one, please?"

The animatronic obliges. It doesn't take much to open this one, either, and Gregory unfolds the contents with ease.

Dear Gregory,

You are invited to the SpookFest of October 20XX! Please be prepared for spooks, scares, treats, and most importantly - lots of fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun......

(Gregory skips to the next page. Whoever wrote this apparently thought they'd have to get their point across by filling the rest of the paper with repetitions of the word "fun," and he's not about to scan each and every one just to see if he's missed anything.)

Activities include:

• Trick or Treat; all attractions!
• Costume Party; in 4 days
• Crafts and Baking; hosted by Chica!
• Face Painting; hosted by Roxy!
• Scary Stories; hosted by...

(Gregory skims the rest of the activities, not seeing anything that looks particularly interesting. It's cool that the animatronics are hosting activities for each other, though.)

All activities can be organized in the main hall, or done in private sessions among friends. We hope you enjoy!

Gregory idly wonders who the "we" in the letter is referring to, considering that he's pretty sure that management isn't even aware of this, much less involved, but he decides he doesn't care. Instead, he folds up both letters, clears his head of any questions, and looks at the Mini Music Man.

"Thanks," he says, grinning. "Do I owe you anything, or..."

The Mini Music Man makes some sort of warbling noise before skittering away. He'll take that as a no, then.

Gregory vaguely remembers getting chased by one of those things, and mentally makes a note to ensure all the other animatronics activate their versions of Safe Mode as soon as possible. Sure, the Glamrocks seem to be the preferred target when it comes to viruses - both Vanny and fucking Afton seemed to have a flair for the dramatics - but he may as well lower his chances of being chased by any animatronic as much as possible. He makes another mental note to check in and see if they can't get an announcement about it on the official channels.

Although he's pretty sure those are a joke at this point.

Gregory thinks about the animatronics. He's greeted most of them at one point or another, but honestly he hasn't had a chance to really get to know most of them. He wasn't really that interested before.

The Mini Music Man, however, has just reminded him that he especially hasn't seen much of the DJ. To be fair, the dude was normally sleeping on his stage when Gregory patrolled the area, so it's not like there was much opportunity for conversation. But he could swing by again and see if the DJ is awake this time. If not, then at least it'll be an easy patrol to start the night off with.

He gets there relatively quickly, taking a shortcut through the arcade section. To his surprise, the DJ is awake and fiddling with the music controls, even though there's no music playing beyond the usual Pizzaplex ambience.

"Hey, prepping for a performance?" Gregory asks, drawing near.

The DJ looks down, and, wow, the dude is huge. He thought the Daycare Attendant was tall, but this guy could easily hold the entire Glamrock band in his hands and still have room for more. Makes sense that he rarely goes anywhere else, and why they'd had to make special tunnels to aid his movement.

The DJ grins. A soft melody plays, and his voice rumbles out, "Hello little guard."

Gregory snickers. To the DJ, everyone must be little. He decides to not take offense.

The DJ's smile seems to grow. "New music is always appreciated," he continues, the melody switching to something slightly more upbeat. He stops, then repeats the track, adding some extra notes. "I don't think we've introduced ourselves."

"I'm Gregory." He belatedly remembers the blank name tag stuffed in his pocket. He'll have to print out an actual one at some point to keep up appearances.

"Nice to meet you, Gregory. I'm DJ Music Man," the DJ says. The upbeat music becomes a little more intense, and with a jolt, Gregory realizes that it sounds very familiar. "Be careful, please. I have an experimental bouncer mode that may activate without notice. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Wait, that's still a thing?" Gregory says, surprised.

The DJ laughs. "Unimplemented features are left alone unless they cause excessive issues. Experimental bouncer mode has been deactivated for at least a decade by now. Please do not worry; I only issued a warning in case of the low chance of accidental activation."

"Do you want me to remove it? Because I am totally willing to help out with that." Especially if it gets rid of some of the danger, Gregory thinks to himself.

The DJ's eyes flicker slightly. "I see. You are registered as an on-call technician. I would appreciate your assistance; the unused mode takes up more... memory than I'd like."

Gregory nods. This wasn't how he planned to spend his night, but he can hardly complain about making the Pizzaplex a little safer for himself. And the DJ seems pretty chill. It wouldn't hurt to get to know the big guy while he worked.

"Wait, you're not gonna fit in Parts and Services," Gregory says out loud.

The DJ nods. "It is possible to perform maintenance here. There is also a separate area that can be accessed through the tunnels for major repairs."

Gregory mulls it over. "Mind if we do it here? I think I just have to open up your control panel and make a few tweaks."

"Understood."

Chapter Text

It's been a rough few days for the Glamrocks, to put it lightly. First, they fell victim to a virus that caused major glitches in their thought processes and movements, and then one of their number is dismantled overnight, and then they have to deal with the holiday renovations that messed with their schedules.

Roxy is naturally less than thrilled about this turn of events.

"We should get rid of him! Before he does anything worse!" she snaps, pacing the room.

They're in their shared break room. The Glamrocks haven't been in one place for quite some time, barring the shows - thanks to renovations and repairs, they've all been in and out of the Parts and Services area, as well as being rented out for parties and events. It's been awhile since they've all had time to relax, but now that renovations are over, they have the night to themselves again.

Monty laughs, stretched across a couch with his legs crossed. His eyes meet hers, glinting from beneath his sunglasses. "What, that squirt?" he says. "The kid didn't even do anything. You're just mad because you can't get through a measly security door."

"I didn't see you doing it either," Roxy growls.

"Yeah, but unlike you," Monty says, his voice deceptively light, "I can do it when my processors aren't being overloaded by a virus. You know better than that."

Chica pats Roxy's shoulder. "Gre - he really didn't do anything wrong. If anything, we should probably apologize..."

"He tore Freddy apart!" Roxy snaps. She sees Chica wince, but she knows she's right. "That human performed override procedures on us, and then left us lying on the floor until opening! I keep telling you, he's no good! Come on, Freddy, even you've gotta hold a grudge after this."

"...I am not sure a human could have done such damage to my exoskeleton," the lead singer says carefully. "The footage from that night is missing, but I am certain I remember seeing the Daycare Attendant. I do not think Gregory is to blame for anything that happened."

Roxy wants to swear, but unfortunately, the Glamrocks are programmed with anti-profanity protocols. Except possibly Monty - there's rumors that he managed to work around the protocols, although no one's been able to prove it. "That's a load of nonsense. Sun doesn't leave the Daycare," she snaps. "Besides, he scared Chica, and then he broke Freddy. And it's against the rules for security guards to work on the animatronics anyway!"

"He's technically an on-call technician," Chica says quietly. "It's listed in his guest profile."

Roxy rolls her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. That doesn't give him the right to just -"

"We could've seriously injured the kid if he didn't force us into Safe Mode," Monty says. There's a warning in his tone that makes Roxy's hackles rise. "Give it a break already."

"Our programming keeps us from hurting humans," Roxy snarls. "What he did was unnecessary-"

Monty laughs. "With the virus in our systems, that could've easily changed. What, did you want him to stick around and find out if we could suddenly kill him or not?"

Roxy pauses.

She would never injure a human. Killing one is out of the question. How dare Monty imply that she would lay a claw on a human, irritating or not. The most she would do is manhandle a misbehaving child, and even then she would avoid using excessive force.

Except the virus had been controlling her, wasn't it? And it had overridden a lot of protocols at the time...

She swallows down the static in her voice box. "I... ugh."

She's not happy to admit that Monty is probably right. It smarts her pride to think of how easily the security guard has been breaking rules and skirting consequences. He just showed up out of nowhere, acts rude and haughty, and now she's expected to forgive him for everything he's done lately?

If it was out of self-defense, though... Roxy can feel her tail moving angrily, but she can't really think of anything else to say.

Chica nuzzles her with her beak. "Thanks for trying to defend me, Roxy, but I'm fine. We all are, really. We were even able to fix up Freddy just fine! Right?"

"Yes. I always have plenty of spare exoskeletons," Freddy agrees. "It took no time at all to repair the damage."

Chica smiles. "So don't be so mad! We can always scold him a bit if he takes it too far."

Roxy groans. "I still don't like him," she says to the room, but everyone can tell that she's finally calmed down. Part of her rant was born from having to bottle it up during the renovations; it frustrated her, having to do so many extraneous operations to prepare for Halloween. Even the usual songs have been tweaked to add a spooky ambience. "And the seasonal adjustments are so annoying."

"I know, right?" Chica agrees, eagerly jumping on the change in topic. "They had to recalibrate my instrument, and even added some songs about skeletons and ghosts and stuff. It's taking up way more space in my files than necessary."

Freddy smiles. "I have undergone similar problems. Recalibrating my voicebox is always quite the ordeal."

Monty laughs. "Yeah, well, they're too afraid to operate on my routines much, so I didn't have to do jack these past few days. Sucks to be you."

They all laugh at that, even with Freddy frowning slightly at the near-curse. Chica even nuzzles a little closer to Roxy, which makes the wolf animatronic go stiff. Monty settles in deeper into the couch, and Freddy looks rather peaceful, fiddling with a piece of equipment for showtime.

The laughter stops when there's a knock on the door.

Monty raises a brow, standing. "I'll get it," he says, waving away Freddy as the bear moves to stand.

The door opens to reveal the security guard. "Hey there," the young man says, grinning.

"Oh. It's you," Roxy says, her tone clearly unhappy. She hadn't been paying attention, so she hadn't known he was the one who had knocked.

The security guard snickers. "Don't worry, I'll be gone soon. I was talking with the DJ, and wouldn't you know it? I just realized that there was a mistake in the system."

"Is it pertaining to the virus from a few nights ago?" Freddy asks.

"Ah, no. That's been dealt with." The security guard fishes out a small metallic rectangle from his pocket - a blank name tag. "See, I never bothered to update this thing, and, well. I never introduced myself, did I?"

Roxy rolls her eyes. "All your info's stored, kid. No need for introductions."

"Yeah, well. Thought I'd do it anyway." The security guard holds out his hand. "I'm Gregory. Looks like I'll be working here longer than I thought, so... yeah. Thought I should clarify, in case, you know, some of you actually thought my name was Eggs. Wonder how that happened?" He winks to no one in particular, hand held out in the open.

Monty is the first to move, his giant claws dwarfing the human's hand. "Montgomery Gator," he says, flashing his teeth in a smile. All of them are programmed with manners, of course, but it's been awhile since any of the Glamrocks have had to introduce themselves. Fame makes it easy for people to know who they are before they've even met.

The security guard - now known to be Gregory, which has them all sighing in relief, because they just knew that Eggs wasn't a real name - grins in response. "Fuck yeah," he says, ignoring the chorus of 'language' from the Glamrocks. "See you around."

He steps back, performs a mock salute, and then makes as though he's about to leave.

"Wait," Chica says.

He turns, eyebrow raised. "What? Did I forget something?"

"I'm... I'm sorry for hurting you. Thanks for fixing us."

Gregory's face twists slightly. "Huh. Well." He hesitates, then shrugs. "No hard feelings. I guess."

"Many hard feelings," Roxy interrupts.

Chica sighs. "No hard feelings," she says firmly, flashing a hopeful smile toward Gregory. The security guard nods and doesn't look too upset, so Chica counts that as a win. Roxy notices Chica relaxing and internally groans.

Now she has to play nice. Damn. She watches the security guard leave with a baleful eye.

"See? Nice kid," Monty says, and Roxy just sighs out loud.

Chapter Text

"Let's carve pumpkins!"

"Can we even afford pumpkins?" Monty says lazily. "I don't think the company's about to dish out money for something like pumpkins... Not that they know what money we do or don't have. They rot in like a day though, right after you carve them. There's no point, especially since..."

Chica pouts. "But it would be fun! I know Roxy and Freddy are rented out today, but tomorrow we're all free... except for the scheduled shows. But it could be part of the SpookFest!"

"...Yeah, well, we can't exactly leave to buy anything," Monty says. He sounds irritated, and Chica cocks her head, suddenly wary. "So shut up about it."

Chica opens her beak for a moment, then sighs. "If we get pumpkins, would you like to join us?" she says instead.

Monty eyes her, looking unhappy. But finally he caves, as she knew he would. "Sure. Whatever."

She nods and leaves, wondering how to go about obtaining a pumpkin. She's made do with baking, arts and crafts, and other replacements ever since she first thought of organizing the SpookFest, but she can't help but wish they could have a pumpkin to carve. A nice big one would be great! Sometimes, they'll host a public event that takes place in a pumpkin patch, and she's able to smuggle a few back to the Pizzaplex in her stomach hatch.

This is not one of those years, though. The pumpkin patch is closed this year - something about a biohazard appearing in the area - and Chica can't think of any other way to obtain a pumpkin. Maybe she'll have to use papier-mâché again. She would order online if she could, but having that kind of stuff delivered might raise a few eyebrows at management, and she doesn't want to draw attention for something as small as pumpkins. But she finally got everyone to agree to pumpkin carving this year! It could be a one-on-one session, even. Most of the time, someone always bows out, but not this year. If only she had actualy pumpkins instead of substitutes...

Chica enters the kitchen unhappily. Maybe she'll just make a whole batch of jack-o-lantern cookies and settle for that. Cookies are good! She can share cookies with everyone, and eat most of them herself. Maybe she could share a few with the human, since he seems to need all the food he can get.

As if summoned by her thoughts - or maybe he'd seen her on the cameras - the door creaks open, and Gregory pops his head in. "Hey. Making food again?" he asks.

"Yes." Chica smiles, and then, remembering past security guards, hastily adds, "Don't worry. I'm only using stock that's soon to be thrown out."

"Like last time, yeah? Cool." Gregory glances at the cookware and ingredients. He's still standing in the doorway. "What're you making?"

"Oh... Cookies." Chica glances at the ingredients. Nestled among the bags of flour and sugar are a few small bottles of food dye. She frowns at them. "Jack-o-lantern cookies!" she clarifies, trying to sound cheerful. "It doesn't seem like we'll be able to ste - ah, I mean, we won't have any pumpkins this year, so it looks like Crafts and Baking won't have any pumpkin carving! I thought making some cookies would be a fun replacement, at least."

Gregory nods. "That's too bad. How much do pumpkins even cost these days?"

"About 12 USD per pumpkin. Most of the grocery stores must be selling them now," Chica says, the facts rattling off her beak easily. She'd checked the prices again; window shopping online, as it were. If only the delivery truck wasn't manned by nosy humans around this time of year.

"Oh." Gregory sounds uninterested. "That's... kinda expensive."

Chica shrugs. "I suppose. We do have some money set on the side for recreation from... hm. However, none of us can exactly leave, and online delivery is - less than ideal." She shakes her head. "So, cookies! Would you like to help?"

She doesn't get a response. Chica turns away from the ingredients and sees that the doorway is, in fact, empty.

Something plummets in her chest. She hadn't thought he would leave without saying anything, and it hurts a little to know that he'd probably missed the end of her sentence - and a little more besides. Chica was already feeling down. She looks at the ingredients mournfully. Maybe he just didn't like her anymore. She'd definitely injured him at one point. The others had chased him, too. He'd probably popped in to be polite, and then had taken the first chance he saw to get away.

She trudges over to the ovens and presses the buttons, letting it preheat. At the very least, she doesn't want to waste the ingredients. With a bit of effort, she shoves the interaction to the back of her mind.

Baking is soothing. It requires just enough of her processing power to make her focus, but it's automatic enough that she can let most of her thoughts wander without much trouble. She thinks about all sorts of things. About the virus that - hopefully - is put away for good. None of the Glamrocks really know what caused it, but Gregory had said it was fine, and there was a notice sent out about keeping Safe Mode on, so surely it's been solved. She thinks about Roxy, and Monty, and Freddy. All three are her dear friends, but they've been stressed lately by all the changes. She can't really blame them for that. If she's being honest, she's rather stressed too.

Hopefully the SpookFest helps them all calm down. These personal events, held just for the animatronics alone, are something that are very important to them all. It helps them feel connected and cared about, if only for a little while.

Truthfully, she'd been surprised when Freddy had suggested sending the human an invite. She's not blind. None of them have missed the way that Gregory avoids them, and how he seems to avoid Freddy the most. And despite the explanations of how, exactly, Freddy was torn apart - a communication from the Daycare Attendant, sent quite recently, had certainly cleared up that matter - it still doesn't detract from how little Gregory seemed to care. Even though he could have been fired had they not taken care of it, he doesn't even seem to remember how viciously Freddy's exoskeleton was ripped apart.

Chica sighs to herself as she starts stamping little pumpkin outlines in the dough. Maybe Gregory just doesn't like any of them, and he's only in it for the food.

She hopes that's not the case. She's almost sure it's not, but it's hard to tell. Chica tells herself that maybe he's just got a mischievous streak that edges into cruel, the way that Monty acts when he's pushed too far. As she puts the cookies into the oven, though, she can't quite shake her unhappiness about the whole situation.

A bad mood, started by a lack of pumpkins. It's too bad the pumpkin patch was closed. If only -

A generic phone ringtone plays in her head, and Chica nearly throws the box of parchment paper into the wall. She doesn't, because she has better motor control than that, but the noise startled her badly enough that she's sure that anything that even hints at a threat to her optic scanners is in real danger of being clobbered. She looks around quickly, but there's nothing out of the ordinary.

It takes her a moment to realize that the noise is in her head. It resembles the communication system all the animatronics share, but instead of email, it's like a call.

Chica frowns. The number isn't recognizable. It can't be from a phone, though, she's sure that they aren't supposed to receive and answer calls - although, she supposes they have the capability. But the animatronics don't have numbers in the first place.

She decides to accept the call. Safe Mode is on, after all.

"Hey. Chica?"

"Gregory?" she says, surprised. Her own voice doesn't enter her ears, and she realizes that her voice must be coming out of the phone she's connected to.

"Oh, cool. Sun said this would work, but I wasn't sure if you would answer." Chica can hear something like noise in the background. A store? It's rather late, but then again, many supermarkets stay open 24/7 nowadays, so she figures it not too unusual. "So, uh, did you have a preference when it comes to pumpkins? Like... medium? Small?"

Chica blinks, an ingrained reaction after imitating humans for so long. "A preference?"

"Yeah. Uh... And can you pay me back if I get a receipt, because I kind of... can't afford to buy a bunch."

"A bunch of pumpkins?"

"Yeah."

"For us?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Chica almost feels the need to recalibrate something. Something feels off-kilter in her programming, but maybe she's just surprised. Pleasantly surprised? "Are you at a store?"

"Yeah, I'm on break. I think." Gregory clears his throat. "Sorry, didn't mean to rush things. I wanted to surprise you, but I - well. I don't have enough to... spend on something you don't want. So."

So he hadn't just left her. She holds back a giggle, imagining him rushing out to buy pumpkins while her back is turned without even considering anything else. It's kind of sweet. "Thank you! I'd love some pumpkins. How many can you get?"

"Uh. The small ones are hand-sized, 5 bucks each. The medium ones - I'll need a cart, but they're 12 bucks, like you said. So. Maybe seven medium ones, at most?"

Chica smiles. "We can afford seven pumpkins. Thank you so much. I'll definitely pay you back, just bring back the receipt."

"Neat. Roger that." And then the call ends.

At least she doesn't have to worry about how the call happened in the first place. If Sun was the one who initiated it - actually, is Sun the type to do something so clearly in the grey zone of legality? She's not sure. Chica decides to not worry about it. It happened and it's fine, so that's that.

And wasn't that nice! Chica can feel her mood lifting already. She hadn't even considered asking Gregory to go out an buy pumpkins; it seemed like such a troublesome thing, and the poor human always looked a little tired. But he'd went ahead and chose to do it anyway.

The oven beeps. Chica turns it off and pulls out the cookies, setting them out to cool. Once she's done icing them, she'll make sure to set aside a large portion for Gregory. She hopes this is a good omen for the rest of October. Maybe things won't be so bad. After all, with an interesting human and all her friends locked in Safe Mode, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

It's rather awkward to find the Daytime Attendant standing in front of the security office, straight and tall and rather still. Animatronics aren't like people, of course - whatever gestures and mannerisms they have are either programmed in or are picked up from daily interactions.

So Gregory watches for a moment, wondering if maybe they've installed a new statue in the most inconvenient place possible, when Sun spots him and comes to life all at once. It's almost like magic. Inanimate one moment, and then bursting with movement the next.

"Gregory!" Sun says cheerfully. "We were quite worried about you. Recent events have made things so busy that we couldn't even check in on you last night! How are you tonight?"

"I've been worse," he says. And it's true, too, although he's also been better.

Sun's faceplate seems to twitch, but that's probably just his imagination. The animatronic claps his hands together and just says, "Glad to hear it! Shall we activate security protocols for tonight?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"No problem, no problem at all." Sun takes a step closer, leaning over Gregory with a smile. "By the way, were you planning on attending any of the SpookFest events? Chica is always such a dear, planning fun things for everyone."

Gregory isn't surprised to find out that Chica is the main organizer. He just shrugs. "Maybe I'll go when they start carving pumpkins. I ended up buying a bunch last night, since I didn't really have anything else to do."

Sun's faceplate does that twitching thing again. Gregory wonders if the balance is off. "She sent you out to buy pumpkins? At night?" Sun asks. His tone is light and friendly.

But it also sounds like he might be accusing Chica of something, which is - completely wrong.

Gregory shakes his head. "Nah, she was pretty down about not getting any pumpkins this year, so I ran out and got some. She paid me back, don't worry."

"That was very kind of you! I'm so proud!" Sun says warmly. The Daycare Attendant in him is really shining through - that's the exact tone a parent would use when praising their child. "Still, I'm glad she reimbursed you. It would be a shame to have to pay out of pocket for such a fun activity."

"Oh. Yeah." And then Gregory pauses, because the idea that the SpookFest - what a funny name, he wonders who came up with it - is free. Which makes sense, it's normally just the animatronics having fun with one another, and the 'events' are probably organized the way they are just to make sure everyone is on the same page, not to make some sort of official schedule. He's just used to avoiding events because even the casual ones expect something, whether it's a contribution in the form of food, or having to pay for a ticket, or something along those lines. But... "Yeah, I didn't even think about that. She just seemed bummed about the whole thing is all."

Sun practically beams. "You're so very sweet, Gregory. What time is the pumpkin carving? You must be looking forward to it!"

"Oh, um. I forgot to ask." Gregory hesitates. "I need to clock in - wait, no, not for a few minutes -"

"Why don't you go check? It's usually held in the kitchen or in the food court," Sun says. "I can start patrolling for now. Don't worry about coming back late; we've got everything covered."

Gregory sighs with relief. Sun is efficient, and the Daycare Attendant isn't exactly one to lie about things like this. "Thanks," he says. "I'll come back once -"

"We can handle a shift by ourselves," Sun says cheerfully, hands stretched out like they're shooing Gregory away. "Come now, we're not going to slack or anything. Go have fun!"

It's true that the Daycare Attendant is unlikely to 'slack off,' considering Sun's programmed work ethics and genuine attitude. It makes Gregory feel guilty, briefly - he's supposed to be working, supposed to be catching up and getting ahead on schoolwork in between patrols - but he's the one who'd brought up their assistance security protocols in the first place, right? To get some help. Except this feels more like dumping the whole workload on Sun rather than getting an extra pair of hands on deck.

"Besides," Sun adds, "this doesn't happen everyday, does it? It would be a shame if you missed it!"

"Don't you wanna come?" Gregory asks before he can think better of it.

Sun stops movement.

"Ah." The animatronic's hands don't shake, exactly, but they move up and down strangely, as if lagging.  "No, I'm quite fine," Sun says. His tone is still bright, despite his stiff stance. "I don't get out of the Daycare very much! Not much time for events, no, not at all!"

"You don't?" Gregory asks. "But the security protocol - well, you didn't even need any help, and that's supposed to take you all over the place, isn't it?

"Animatronics can do anything we're programmed to do, silly!" Sun says.

"You really don't wanna come?"

Sun looks at Gregory. Gregory stares back.

"You," Sun says eventually, "will have to have fun for us! Takes pictures, perhaps. Tell us what it's like. Don't worry about me! Everyone attends the costume party, even me. I won't be missing out on anything!"

Gregory thinks about how nervous Sun was when it came to letting Moon out and about. That nervousness is lessened, now, but it's still shared by Moon himself.

Maybe they've been isolating themselves more than he'd thought.

He relents. "I'll take a fuck ton of pictures just for you," he says, grinning as Sun scolds him for his language. He gives the animatronic a mock salute before turning on his heel and leaving them to it.

It doesn't take him long to find the others - all the Glamrocks, plus a surprising amount of staff bots, are in the food court. Tables are pushed together to form two long rows, covered in tablecloths and art supplies. There's a casual atmosphere born from chatter between the robots who can speak and the conversational beeps and boops between the robots who communicate in different ways.

The art supplies aren't all pumpkins and carving tools, which makes sense considering he'd only been able to buy so many at a time. Instead, he sees pots of glue and piles of paper and open bottles of paint. Some of the staff bots - security bots, with arms and hands - are assisting some of the sign bots. Some sign bots are holding paintbrushes through pure willpower. Gregory's impressed.

He makes his way to one of the pumpkins. There's a little sign next to it that reads, 'Want to carve a pumpkin? Feel free to partner up with someone to share the fun!'

The pumpkins are all piled on one end of the tables. None of them appear to have been touched. Gregory sees the Glamrocks standing a short distance away; Chica catches his gaze and waves.

"Hello, Gregory!" she says. "We've been waiting for you!"

Gregory scans the Glamrocks, noting Roxy's obvious discomfort, Freddy's uneasy silence, Chica's right but friendly smile, and Monty's casual attitude. He suspects that this decision to wait for him was not exactly unanimous.

He grins back. "Wow, don't I feel special," he says, all snark and sarcasm. And then he lets his smile soften, because Chica's holding out a bag of cookies, and damn him, he's weak for food. They're the little jack-o-lantern cookies she'd been making last night - they look professional, and he immediately bites into one as he walks back to the table. The Glamrocks and a few staff bots - one of them recognizable thanks to its faded color from always being in the lobby - settle around the pumpkins, divvying them up between them.

Gregory remembers to snap a photo of the scene with his phone. And then he takes one of the cookies for good measure, mostly because he doesn't think he save any until he sees Sun again. These cookies are so fucking good.

"Hey, kid, wanna be on my team?" Monty asks.

Gregory, who was not paying attention, almost chokes on his cookie. He struggles not to cough for a moment before asking, "Team? We're on teams now?"

Monty just grins. "Don't you know? Before you carve a pumpkin, you gotta gut it."

"I... Yeah, I know that much." Gregory still fails to see how this could possibly relate to anyone needing teams. Is it a race? Are they trying to finish first?

In a few short minutes he discovers that it is, in fact, not a race.

It is a battle. A war, even - one where pumpkin guts and insults are hurled in every direction.

Gregory soon finds himself behind a cardboard cutout of some cartoon character, silently contemplating all the choices in his life that have led to this moment. Pumpkin guts splatter the wall where he'd just been standing, orange strings and seeds that ooze to the ground.

It's gross and he doesn't want any of it touching him. Mostly because he does not have spare work shirts. His other one is still in the laundry.

Another projectile hits the floor nearby, and he narrows his eyes at it with disgust. Those pumpkins have way more in them than he'd expected. Maybe he should try to leave... except that would involve leaving his impromptu cover, and he has no intention of exposing himself to the battlegrounds. The rest of the food court seems to be spared from the chaos - but he'd have to get there first.

Something embeds itself in the cardboard, inches from his face, causing him to jerk back reflexively. It looks suspiciously like a pumpkin carving knife, with the cheap, dull metal blade piercing the cardboard as if it were made of butter.

"The fuck," he mutters, keeping a bit of distance between himself and the cutout. "They're throwing knives now?"

Gregory twitches as suddenly, a booming laugh erupts from somewhere in the room. "Nice try, wolf!" Monty yells, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "But you missed by a whole fazzing mile!"

Roxy's snarls are deep and frustrated and very, very close. It kind of sounds like she's about to scream, actually.

Trust those two to be the ones to elevate this battle into something more violent than just throwing pumpkins guts. He supposes he should be happy they haven't started clawing up the room yet.

"This is normal," Chica says, sitting down beside him. He looks at her, seeing drying seeds stuck to her shoulders. She follows his gaze and makes a face. "It's always pretty messy. Clean up is never fun, but the carving is! I think it's worth it in the end."

"Not a lot of carving going on," he observes.

Chica cocks her head. "Well. They'll get it out of their systems eventually." She giggles, not seeming to mind when something plastic somehow flies into the wall beside her, thudding in place ominously.

It's a spoon. A serrated, plastic, orange spoon that probably costs a dollar at most.

Gregory restrains himself from swearing again, but it's a close thing.

Chapter Text

Some years ago, back when he was in high school and Michael was still around, Gregory carved a few wooden stamps. The high school was small and liked to do things that were considered 'cultural traditions,' which meant doing stuff like learning the native language and making cloth from local plants. It was boring, and he kind of regrets being there when he was clearly the wrong target audience, but that's not the important part.

The important part was that in school, Gregory carved a wooden stamp from a stick of bamboo every year in high school, and it was fun. It was a pain, too, having to constantly wash the sawdust from his hands, but he always liked how the final product turned out. He liked knowing how much hard work went into the simple lines and grooves of it all.

Carving pumpkins, in contrast, is a lot easier. Pumpkins are soft. Less forgiving, but much easier to cut.

Monty - who, after the whole pumpkin guts debacle, turns out to not be very interested in the carving bit - had offered him some knives and went off to bother some staff bots. Gregory watches the alligator approach some bots who appear to be working on a catapult made from construction paper before turning back to their pumpkin. Whatever happens over there is none of his business, especially if he doesn't witness it himself. Plausible deniability and all that.

Gregory isn't exactly artistic, but again, he likes carving. Likes the motions of it, and enjoys looking at the finished product.

He browses through some papers, looking at ones that have been printed with templates and scribbling on some blank sheets, just to figure out what he wants. He's not crazy after all; he's not about to put a pen to the pumpkin before he's figured out what the design is going to be.

Eventually Gregory settles on just using one of the templates, because his scribbles aren't producing anything interesting and he'd rather finish this sooner rather than later. It's fun to scrape pumpkin skin away from himself, using a small knife to dig into the outline and a rounded knife to cut away big chunks. The end result is clumsy but good enough, and Gregory puts the pumpkin with the others, relieved that while his isn't the neatest, at least it looks decent.

He'd cut himself at one point, but none of the animatronics noticed - he'd put on his jacket and pretended nothing was wrong, and apparently if the robots aren't actively scanning him then they don't know more than what they can see for themselves. At least he has that much privacy.

Gregory goes to sit beside the staff bot from  the lobby. It's working with a sign bot, the latter in charge of picking colors and the former in charge of slathering glue and water on everything. It's papier-mâché, but beyond that, he can't tell what it's supposed to be.

He asks. The staff bot explains, and very thoroughly too, but unfortunately he's never learned the language of beeps and boops and so Gregory just nods along, not understanding a word. The staff bot presses a paintbrush in his hands though, so he starts picking up the papers that the sign bot chooses, ripping them up and sticking them wherever he thinks they should go. It works for the most part.

"I don't know your names," he says, during a lull created by a fallen pile of papers. The staff bot, unable to bend over, watches as Gregory kneels down and picks it all up. The sign bot stands guard, making sure no one messes up their stuff. "Sorry if I can't say it right. But what should I call you?"

The staff bot beeps three times. The sign bot does a little twirl and trills.

Gregory laughs. "I'm Gregory. Nice to meet you."

He helps them finish their project - it's something vaguely resembling a bright blue egg with purple spots, although he thinks the purple spots are an accident, a miscommunication that may or may not have been his fault - and moves on. He ends up skirting the catapult, ignoring Monty's pleased cackling, coming to stop at a group made up of only sign bots. Somehow, they've contested a house from cardboard and are currently painting it.

He knows they constructed it because only a few feet away, more sign bots are constructing a second house. He's not quite sure how it's happening, but again, none of his business if the laws of physics aren't being followed.

The sign bots let him paint a little window on one of the sides of the house, adding blobs that are supposed to be bricks and streaks on the windowpanes. He moves on to another group, holding a stick in place as it's taped to a suspicious contraption that, regardless, is not a catapult and that's all that matters. He helps some staff bots organize a few piles of papers, all the colors neatly sorted and separated.

Gregory keeps moving on, keeps joining and leaving and joining groups until suddenly he realizes that it's quiet. He turns, sweeping his gaze over the food court curiously. A lot of the bots have gone. Roxy's left, and Monty too - and the catapult is gone, which is... not his problem.

He walks over to Chica, who's holding bundles of paintbrushes in her arms. "Need help cleaning up?" he asks, and she blinks down at him in surprise.

Chica smiles. "Oh, no, but thank you! It's sweet of you to offer though."

"You sure? It's kind of... a lot," Gregory says, but as he turns and looks, he realizes that a lot of the groups have mostly cleaned up after themselves. Although nothing's put away, exactly, it's all stacked and organized. "Ah. Nevermind, I guess there's not much to do."

Chica giggles. "Really, thank you though. You should go rest! I saw you everywhere tonight. I hope you had fun."

"Yeah. I did." Gregory grins. "Guess I'll head out then. See you around."

"See you around! And don't forget the costume party!" Chica says cheerfully, waving him off. "The party is in three days!"

Gregory offers a mock salute in response.

To his surprise, the Daycare Attendant is nowhere in sight when he returns to the security office. He'd kind of expected them to be hanging around, but maybe they'd finished their patrols and left.

His heart beats a little faster when he remembers, fuck, he still hasn't clocked in. He hasn't clocked in, hasn't done any work, and sure, Sun promised they'd take care of everything, but that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything because if he's skipped his shift or missed an assignment or made some other stupid mistake, then it's his fault, and his fault only. Gregory grimaces, entering the security office with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The monitors are off. It's dark inside the office. He flicks on the light switch, but it's still cold, as if the room itself is accusing him of being reckless and careless with his own life.

Gregory laughs bitterly.

What the fuck is he even still doing here? Having fun? Messing around? Sure, he's been slipping up lately, losing track of things, but this... this feels like something cold is settling in his chest, eating him from the inside out.

This feels like proof that he doesn't have his shit together, and he doesn't even have the looming threat of a dead madman to blame it on.

For the first time in awhile, there's laughter in his head.

"Didn't you guys go to hell?" Gregory mutters.

They reply, "Didn't you choose to stay?"

And, well, there's not a lot he can say in response.

His arm throbs, blood just barely seeping through the sleeve. Gregory stares at it wearily, knowing that he'll have to soak it soon if he doesn't want it to stain.

At least the ghosts are still quieter. Most of them are gone, just leaving traces of what they used to be.

He leaves the office, searching for a bathroom to clean up the blood. He doesn't bother with clocking in, doesn't bother with the cameras or anything, because Sun said they would handle it and frankly, it's too late to pretend he was doing anything work-related. He can at least trust that the Daycare Attendant handled the patrols - there's no point in him doing anything about it now.

Gregory doesn't check the logs, doesn't check his schedule, doesn't even bother turning anything on. He just cleans up his arm and goes home, because that fun little event took up most of his shift and he's exhausted. He's antsy now, wound up and unhappy. It hits worse because he'd just been relaxing and having fun but - that's part of the problem.

Gregory shoves those thoughts aside. He's just tired. He may as well sleep for the next few hours before his day shift.

And like any other night, Gregory leaves the building without another word.

Chapter Text

The Pizzaplex, Gregory is starting to realize, is rather self-contained. What corporate wants, corporate gets; beyond that, the higher-ups genuinely don't care what happens in the building as long as the money keeps flowing.

It's why the problems fester and grow, and it's how the robots get to have their fun without much fear of discovery. Sure, maybe the company heads check in sometimes, and he's certainly had a supervisor at some point, but... it's grown lax, now that he's no longer new. Now that he's just another cog in the wheel, he can see the neglect everywhere else, too.

Gregory isn't even sure why he's upset, really. He's feeling antsy, something crawling under his skin with nowhere to go. He needs to do laundry, for the sake of his work shirts and his still-wet jacket, but he can't bring himself to do it yet. He needs to check on his scabbed over cut and throw away the banaids he'd stuck on it last night. He needs to check his assignments - fuck, there's one due this week that he hasn't started on yet.

That, annoyingly enough, is the thought that gets him out of bed and into his work clothes. Because fuck, he's still going to use his work privileges to leech off of the Pizzaplex's computers and wi-fi. Gregory grabs his jacket - the one the Daycare Attendant gave him, soft and colorful and comfortable even when it's just tied around his waist - but he sees the wet splotch on the sleeve and sighs.

Damned water won't evaporate in a few hours. There's probably a puddle on his floor that he'll have to wipe up later.

He drops the jacket and heads to the Pizzaplex. It's still some godawful hour in the morning, so thankfully the building isn't open yet. If he can finish his shit before it opens, then... he'll deal with the crowds when he has to. It'll be fine.

One assignment later - they've gotten easier since he's resorted to... using his resources - and Gregory is leaning back in the office chair, massaging his wrists with a grimace. While he does the assignments, he's also trying to memorize things, filing them away for later, but it's been harder lately. Gods, how does anyone expect him to absorb the names of muscles in under a week with enough brain space left over for the other shit he's supposed to learn?

Gregory presses his hands to his face and groans. Fuck, he's so tired. In between his lack of sleep and... when's the last time he's eaten something that wasn't sweet? When's the last time he's eaten something filling?

Dammit. He'd picked up stuff from the store just a few days ago - did he go through it all already? Or maybe he just forgot about it, had forgotten to even eat any of it because he hadn't even remembered it was there. It's probably still in his fridge at home, piled in the back of the shelves because he's an idiot.

He laughed a little at himself. He's done alright, managing work and school and supernatural threats, but - he's slipping again.

The last time this happened, he'd lost his job and had needed to withdraw from the class before his record was ruined. He'd been lucky enough to be able to stay with someone, so he hadn't been exactly homeless, but it was a close thing. This time, he doesn't have anyone. He can't afford to fall apart right now. He really can't.

Gregory straightens with a sigh, his eyes wearily moving over the screens in front of him. He just needs to clock in, and then he'll just... keep the cameras up until it's time for his first patrol.

Maybe he should work on the assignment due next week? If he gets it started now, it... probably won't be that bad.

He manages to copy down the names and functions of the neurons before he can't stand it any longer and closes the document. He might as well clock in early and start patrolling. Gregory switches over to the program used by the company, opening up his schedule and -

He pauses, mouse hovering over the button.

According to this program, he'd clocked in for his last shift, even though he's pretty sure he hadn't. Even stranger, it says he'd clocked out, too, which he's certain he didn't. He distinctly remembers entering the office, touching nothing, and then leaving. There's no way he could have clocked out; but who else could have done that? It's supposed to require his name tag to log in - useless in most other cases - so... no one could have done it by accident.

Gregory frowns. Who the fuck would hack into the Fazbear system and do something like this? Even weirder, whoever did it managed to clock him in at the exact time - the system operates with 00:00:00 time records, which means he's always clocking in a few seconds late or a few seconds early. Unless the hacker bypassed that altogether and just set the time manually?

...Come to think of it. He knows someone who's a little too comfortable with hacking things, doesn't he?

"Hello."

Gregory turns, slightly startled but not too surprised to see Moon standing in the doorway. The office is dark and the hallway is dim - the light level is more than low enough for the Naptime Attendant to make an appearance, despite the fact that outside, the sun must be rising. "Hey there," Gregory says, half-grinning. "Did you guys hack my schedule just make sure I didn't lose my job? Or am I crazy?"

Moon's eyes flicker from the screen to Gregory's face, looking confused. "Didn't Sun say we would take care of everything?" Moon asks.

Huh. "Yeah, but... wasn't expecting this, if I'm being honest," Gregory replies. He looks back at the screen again, staring at the proof of... something.

It's fine. He's fine. He was literally having a breakdown over nothing.

Gregory feels like throwing up.

"Thanks," he manages.

"You don't seem happy?" Moon asks. The animatronic is slightly bent over, one hand on the doorway, but his eyes glow well enough for Gregory to know that he's staring right at him. Is it concern? Probably.

Gregory breathes deeply and slowly. "Sorry. Just - tired, I guess. I appreciate it though, I swear."

Moon's faceplate clicks slightly. "Have you been sleeping?" Moon asks, voice light and curious. No trace of irritation, none of the low rasp that sometimes enters his voice when he's threatening and alert.

Gregory eyes Moon carefully. "Yeah, of course," he replies. He's not even lying - he probably got a full five hours of sleep this time. A bit of a record, considering how his nights have been going so far. "Uh. How've you been?"

The attempt at deflection is painfully obvious, but Moon doesn't comment on it. He just says, "Fine," and nothing else.

It's quiet for a moment.

"Guess I'll be the one to clock in this time," Gregory says finally, turning back to the screen. "Daycare is open today, right? Good luck with that."

"Sun," Moon says, and then his voicebox makes a weird noise before falling silent.

Gregory finishes what he's doing and turns off the monitor. "Sun... what?" he asks idly, reaching out to power down the computers.

Then the lights in the office turn on, making him blink and just barely bite back the urge to hiss like a vampire. Fucking hell, that's bright. He turns to Moon, about to ask why the hell he'd done that, but finds himself looking at Sun instead.

Of course. The light level.

"Sun," the animatronic says cheerfully, bizarrely referring to himself in the third person, "wants to talk to you for a bit!"

"Uh. Sure, but won't you be late-"

Sun smiles brightly. "Come with me to the Daycare. It won't take long, I promise."

Gregory blinks, then shrugs, getting to his feet without much protest. He'll have to start patrols sometime; might as well get started with a friendly presence at his side.

As they walk through the Pizzaplex and through the lobby, Gregory can see the sun rising outside. It's still faintly grey, but he can see the soft yellow hue slowly permeating the sky.

It's peaceful. He almost stumbles, catching himself mid-yawn. With a shake of his head, Gregory tries to keep up with Sun. The animatronic isn't measuring his steps as he usually does - likely a way of compensating for the height difference - so he must be in a hurry.

"Are you alright?" the animatronic asks, the first sound either of them have made in awhile.

Gregory nods. "I'm fine, just waking up," he replies.

Sun smiles and throws open the doors of the Daycare. "I'm glad to hear that," Sun says cheerfully, leading them through the playground and into a side room. Surprisingly, it's rather small. There's a pile of bean bags in one corner, and there are curtains draped from every wall. With the blue-painted walls and the stars hanging from the ceiling, Gregory would've thought that it was a room specifically for Moon.

When the lights dim, he turns to find said Naptime Attendant standing in the doorway, glowing eyes trained on him. It's pretty intimidating, and unexpected; both factors him to stiffen. No matter how trusting he is, there's no getting around the fact that being trapped by an animatronic is literally one of his worst nightmares.

"This," Gregory says as calmly as possible, hand straying to the taser on his belt, "feels a lot like being led down an alley to get murdered in."

"It's not an alley," Moon says flatly. He moves away from the doorframe, letting Gregory relax slightly. "There's something Sun and I wish to discuss with you. Will you wait for a bit?"

Gregory blinks. "I mean, we're right here," he says, but then he hears the sounds of people. He realizes that the Pizzaplex has opened, and that there will probably be children entering the Daycare soon. "Oh, sorry, did we take too long -"

"No, it's fine," Moon says quickly. The animatronic is unloading a box - several of which line the walls - and pulling out blankets and pillows. "I don't work with children anymore, but..." The animatronic hesitates. "...I'm sorry. Can you take these and wait there?" Moon points toward the bean bags.

Gregory blinks, then takes the load. "Sure, I guess." He carries the blankets and pillows there, propping them on his lap as he sits down. The bean bags are softer than he'd thought, and his eyes widen slightly as he sinks in. It's insanely comfortable, and he's almost jealous of the kids who got to experience this kind of daycare before he remembers why scheduled nap times were cancelled in the first place.

It's a little sad to think about why a disused room would still be so clean. The Daycare Attendant must have kept every part of the place ready for the children, all these years, despite having to hide Moon for so long.

"I've got this," Gregory says reassuringly. "How long do you think you'll be?"

Strangely, Moon leans in and ruffles his hair. "Not long," the Naptime Attendant promises. He smiles a little more widely. "Don't worry about patrols. Even if you're a little late, we'll take care of it. Don't worry."

Gregory shrugs. With the animatronic's apparent disregard for laws, he can probably trust that they've actually got it covered. He's just seen proof that they can trusted for himself, after all. "Okay," he agrees. "I'll be here, I guess. Good luck getting away from the kids."

Moon's smile somehow widens further. The animatronic steps away, and Gregory gets one glimpse of the animatronic changing from Moon to Sun between blinks, the Daycare Attendant standing in the lit area outside, before the door is shut. Gregory is left in complete darkness - well, it's mostly complete darkness. The stars hanging from the ceiling glow softly in shades of yellow and white. They're pretty to look at.

Gregory lets himself settle into the bean bags and wonders how long the Daycare Attendant will be. It only takes a few minutes for him to decide that Moon would hardly hold a grudge if he used some of the pillows to lean on; it's not like he's messing up anything important.

After half an hour, the folded blankets have gone from a neat, orderly pile into a haphazard attempt at keeping them folded while still being spread over his legs and torso. It's warm, and comfortable, and soft. Gregory looks at his phone for a bit before turning it off, because the dim lighting in the room is a lot more pleasant to look at. He's not looking forward to having to step back outside for his shift, whenever that will be. He wouldn't mind if the Daycare Attendant takes their time.

Barely an hour has passed when Gregory's eyes slip closed, and he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

His eyes snap open, and for a moment, he's disoriented.

The problem, he realizes, is that he doesn't feel any pain. Nothing is sore, his stomach isn't churning, and his head feels fine.

If anything, the only thing that's normal is the desire to go back to sleep.

Gregory shakes off the exhaustion and looks around blearily. With a start, he realizes that he's not in the room that he was in before. Instead of a small room with bean bags and blue curtains, he's now lying down on a couch in a familiar purple room.

Why the fuck is he in Roxy's room?

He pats his belt, adrenaline pumping through his veins when he realizes that both his flashlight and his taser are missing. So is his phone. It only takes a minute of searching to realize that anything serving as identification - his name tag, any cards, etc. - are all missing. He literally has nothing on him other than his clothes.

The doors won't open for him like this. He can't exit the showroom through the front. Gregory immediately stands and goes to the other door, the one that should lead to the back, but one jiggle of the handle reveals that it's locked.

He's trapped.

Gregory breathes deeply. The curtains are closed, but one peek shows that no one else is around. His watch tells him that it's only a few minutes from closing.

How and why he's here are questions that can wait for later. He needs to get out, now, before whoever brought him here - and he has a good guess of who, even if he's surprised they got past the Daycare Attendant - is done for the day and returns. He can't get caught.

Gregory takes another breath, and then another. He makes sure the curtains are closed, then starts to hunt through the room for anything that could be useful.

His hands are shaking. He ignores them.

There's a vanity that he goes through first. Inside, among brushes, bottles, and unidentifiable items are some bobby pins. He stuffs those in his pocket. Then he grabs a larger bottle, likely perfume, and weighs it in his hand. It's made of thick glass, and won't break easily. With a shrug, he stuffs it in his other pocket - cargo pants really have the best pockets that can hold anything - and checks the rest of the rooms.

Most of the other props are useless. Plushies of Roxy, pictures, and some throw pillows. All designed to look nice when looking through the window, although his rushed search has left it messier than usual.

It's not like it matters. He needs out, now. Right now.

Gregory's hands are still shaking when he bends one of the bobby pins, breaking it in half. It's not an ideal situation, but the back doors weren't designed with high levels of security in mind. It only takes him a few tries to pick the lock, shoving his way through the door with little fanfare.

The backroom is bare, just cardboard boxes shoved into piles and on shelves. It's dimly lit, but it's enough for him to spot the vent on the wall.

There's no cover, just an opening, which would be more of a concern if that wasn't exactly what he needs right now. After moving some boxes - damned things are heavy - he clambers in, wincing when his leg catches on the edge. Despite being ridiculously large, it's still a tight fit, and he has to struggle to pull himself forward.

Still. At least he's getting somewhere. Or that's what he tells himself as he drags his body along, trying to figure out where, exactly, this vent is taking him.

It takes him to a vent over one of the public hallways. He checks his watch - now after closing - and then reaches out, shoving his weight into the vent grill. It definitely shouldn't give after only a few pushes, but he's not about to complain. Backtracking would've meant having to push himself backwards through the vent, and that would have been... unpleasant.

The fall from the vent isn't pleasant either - it's located high up on the wall - but after an attempt at rolling upon landing, he only has a sprained ankle to show for it. Not great, but not bad either.

Well. It hinders his ability to run easily, so it's kind of bad. But he's still able to walk, which is the important thing.

"Fucking - fazzing - aw hell, this fucking sucks," he mutters to himself, half-sprinting and half-limping his way to... he's not sure, exactly. He has no idea where his identification could be, and at this time of night, there's no way he's getting out of here until the doors open.

Gregory closes his eyes briefly, trying to compartmentalize the instinctual panic that rises up at the thought.

He's not a child anymore.

He can punch the fucking lights out of anyone who tries to attack him, mechanical or otherwise. He has a spare hand in case it breaks. He has - no one waiting for him, no one looking for him, but that's fine because he's a fucking adult and he'll be fine.

Gregory takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes. His best bet is to head for the security office near the back, the one with an actual doorknob. The ones with metal doors are out of the question for now, at least until he finds a pass or any of his identification. The doorknob can be picked, and from there he can either use the phone, the computer, or the spare guest pass kept in the bottom drawer. He'll have some options - once he gets there.

He takes a step forward, then another. He manages to make his way through the first floor, practically stumbling up the stairs when he reaches them. It feels like that stupid golden statue is taunting him every time he almost loses his balance.

At least the security bots don't mind him. When they see him, they just pause for a moment and wave. He makes sure to wave back, relieved to see some friendly faces.

It's not quite dangerous. It's not the same. He's certain that most of the animatronics he could come across won't try to off him on sight.

But at least one of them kidnapped him, and he's not willing to wait around and find out why.

He's only a few twists and turns away from the office - tired, sore, and with nerves wound way too tight - when something drops from the ceiling and lands directly in front of him. Gregory yelps, flinching back and nearly crumpling as he puts more weight on his ankle than intended.

He catches himself on the wall, just in time to meet the glowing eyes of Sun.

"Where were you?" the animatronic asks, his voice flat and staticky.

Gregory eyes the animatronic. Sun is standing absolutely still, which is already strange. In addition, the Daytime Attendant is half-crouched, but not in the usual manner of trying to appear small - instead, Sun's stance almost looks feral. As if he's about two seconds from spider-crawling on the walls and ripping something apart. It makes Gregory think of Moon, all those years ago.

It also, he realizes abruptly, reminds him of that time when Freddy grabbed him and Sun ripped the Glamrock into pieces. There's a thin wire that's about to snap, and he's not in the best shape to deal with that right now.

Gregory straightens as best as he can. "I was... I woke up in a showroom," he says carefully.

"A showroom," Sun repeats. There's a clicking noise, and his rays seem to extend slightly. "How did you get there?"

"No idea," Gregory answers as flippantly as possible. "My stuff is gone, so I ended up going through the vents. I'm all dusty now."

Sun reaches out, grabbing Gregory's forearm. "Hold still," the animatronic says, and Gregory is blinded by a sudden flash of white. He nearly jumps, yanking his arm back - or trying to. Despite the gentle grip, Sun's hand stays firm.

"Sprained right ankle. Slight abrasion on left leg, below the knee. Laceration on the inside of the right forearm." Sun's eyes narrow slightly. "...This cut is a day old, at least. We didn't notice."

Gregory shrugs uneasily. "It's not your fault. It's kind of hard to notice if you're not looking for it."

Sun stares at him silently. It's kind of unnerving that the animatronic had scanned him without asking, but Gregory thinks it's fine. After all, he had kind of vanished without warning; the poor Daycare Attendant must have panicked upon finding him missing. He would've thought that Sun would assume he'd just wandered off, actually, but it's clear that the animatronic is concerned.

It's kind of nice. It's also - strange. In more ways than Gregory can be bothered to think about right now.

Especially when, after a full minute of silence, Sun suddenly reaches out with his other hand and picks up Gregory. He bites back a few curses as his feet leave the ground, because yes his foot hurts, but he hadn't been expecting it! Sun should have warned him, at least!

And then Sun considers him for a moment. Just holding him like a cat. "What the fuck, man," Gregory says.

Sun blinks. "Language," the animatronic says. Something shifts with that, as the animatronic puts him down gently and smiles again. Sun had been smiling earlier, but now that the expression is soft and wider, Gregory can appreciate just how thin and strained that same smile had been just moments ago.

Weird.

"Where were you going?" Sun asks, clasping his hands together.

"To the office," Gregory answers, carefully testing his ankle. "The one in the back. I can't pick any of the electronic sensors, after all."

"Please let me carry you. It could be detrimental to your recovery if you continue to walk on that ankle," Sun says.

Gregory hesitates, then caves. "Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you," he says. Sun lets him clamber onto his back, steadying himself by holding onto the shoulders. All in all, it's not bad - Sun even takes care to not press against the part of his leg that had gotten scraped up in the vent earlier.

"Moon checked the cameras," Sun says conversationally as they started towards the office. "Imagine our surprise when at... oh, quite a while ago... the cameras simply stop recording! In fact, all cameras stopped recording. And they haven't started back up since."

Gregory groans. "Zombie went to hell," he mutters. "What more could possibly be left? What the fuck is going on?"

"Language," Sun says lightly. "Unfortunately, we're not sure either. However -"

The animatronic stops suddenly, speech cutting off with a sharp hiss. "You," Sun says, sounding as if his voice box is being strangled. "What are you doing here?"

Gregory peeks around Sun's faceplate. His eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of Monty hovering by the security office door, looking - distracted, for lack of a better word. The alligator's eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, but he seems to slump slightly when he sees them.

"Sun. Didn't know you can actually leave the Daycare," Monty says.

Sun shifts backward, his grip on Gregory tightening a little. "Yes. Well. Indeed. Is there something you needed?"

"Roxy's gone crazy," the alligator says bluntly. "We don't know what happened, but her Safe Mode is deactivated. We need the kid to turn it on again and flush her system of whatever's infected her."

Sun's rays extend outward again. "Gregory is injured," the Daycare Attendant practically growls.

Monty shakes his head. "We can secure her. We just need him to-"

"My shit was stolen," Gregory says. "I don't have anything required to initiate a manual override. Sorry."

Monty looks at Gregory, baring his teeth in a displeased expression. "Stolen? Here?" the alligator asks incredulously. "When did that happen?"

"Uh... Kind of a long story."

"Gregory is injured and requires medical treatment," Sun insists. Gregory blinks in surprise - when did treatment enter the discussion? Weren't they just heading to the office so he can figure out where his - wait, the cameras won't help, he forgot about that. The Daycare Attendant continues, "We need to locate his belongings and tend to his injuries. After, I am sure we can deal with the situation-"

"You!"

All three spin to see Roxy standing at the end of the hallway. The wolf is practically vibrating with rage, her eyes glowing a sickly purple color. Shadows seem to gather in her joints, although it's hard to tell if that's a trick of the light or something supernatural - although considering their current track record, it's likely the latter.

"I knew it, you snuck out and caused trouble again, didn't you?" Roxy rages, her voice box crackling. She starts to prowl closer, eyes locked on Gregory. Her claws are twitching, something that doesn't go unnoticed by any of them.

Monty steps between them and Roxy. "Get to the office. Figure it out," he snaps.

Sun immediately darts away. Gregory is tempted to look back when Roxy howls and Monty responds with a growl of his own, but opts to just hold on tighter instead. This would be a really inconvenient time to fall off.

The lights go out suddenly. Gregory blinks, disoriented by the darkness, before letting out a cry as the Daycare Attendant suddenly yanks him around, holding him to their chest instead. Gregory looks up to see Moon.

The familiar clink and the feeling of his stomach dropping clues him in on why, exactly, Moon had forgone the piggyback ride for just holding him. Gregory could've gotten in the way of the wire. Now they're both in the rafters, which is much safer than being on the ground. Even if his racing heart says otherwise.

"Stay here," Moon says, and Gregory nearly choked as the animatronic places him on a rafter - what the fuck, it's so fucking high up here - before dropping back to ground. Without him.

He watches Moon stalk away silently, too shocked to do anything else.

Chapter Text

The problem with the Daycare Attendant is that they were programmed to do a lot of things.

The Daycare Attendant is just as sentient and complex as the Glamrocks; in fact, it could be argued that the Attendant is more complicated than Chica, Monty, Freddy, and Roxy combined. The way their exoskeleton has been engineered and the amount of children they successfully take care of, day in and day out, is proof of that.

And yet, the Daycare Attendant is not one of the Glamrocks. Which could be why their programming is so different, thanks to the lack of dance routines and song performances.

The problem is that, as a sentient robot, the Daycare Attendant has had a lot of time on their hands.

Even more so ever since the Incident, and they'd become obsessed with keeping Moon a secret and staying inside the Daycare. They didn't want to hurt anyone; they couldn't bear to chance it. So the Daycare Attendant stayed inside and spent whole nights doing nothing.

Until they got bored.

Hacking turned out to be an easy hobby for the animatronic. Making things was also easy. Truly, the Daycare Attendant wanted for nothing in the skill department.

Eventually they realized that they could technically take control of the whole Pizzaplex if they tried. Which was kind of the opposite of what they'd wanted. They wanted to be distracted, to be tucked away in a corner where they could stay harmless. Not - whatever this was.

They turned to sewing for awhile. They made blankets and toys, even going so far as to make gifts for the children and clothes for those who went without.

They started to run out of materials faster than expected. They eased up on that particular hobby, searching for something else to do.

One year, they did painting. Another year, they gave in and started making their own dance routines. Another year and they began scrapbooking. The children were wonderful, of course, but the nights only seemed to get longer and longer as the years passed. And even the children eventually left, each and every one growing up and never coming back. After all, why go to the Daycare when they could see the Glamrocks?

So when Gregory had arrived, and had proved himself to be both interesting and bold, the Daycare Attendant had gotten a little attached. He was an adult. One who, admittedly, did not seem very capable of taking care of himself, but an adult nonetheless.

This human wouldn't leave them so easily. Even if he liked the Glamrocks - which he didn't seem to, except for Chica, but nobody seemed to be able to hate Chica - he wouldn't just disappear on them for no good reason.

Which was why their first reaction to the empty nap room was pure, undiluted panic. He didn't answer his phone, and the cameras weren't working - they were understandably a bit upset.

And then, when they did find him, that panic melts into barely suppressed rage.

Someone needs to pay, the Daycare Attendant thinks. Someone needs to pay, because their human was just kidnapped right under their nose. Someone stole Gregory, when he was supposed to rest and recover. Someone hurt him, took him, and planned to -

To do what? Why would anyone take him?

The Daycare Attendant prowls toward the security office, gears silently whirring in frustration and anger. They remember exactly where they'd left Gregory, up in the rafters where no one can touch him. He should be safe.

Except it was supposed to be safe earlier, too.

Gregory had faced the rabbit and the Afton man, after all. The man responsible for the virus - that was what they called it, the thing affecting Roxy, the purple in her eyes and the shadows in her metal seams - was dragged into hell. It was supposed to be over. There wasn't supposed to be anything more to fear.

They retrieve the spare guest pass in the office, a high clearance version, and scour the rest of the office. There's a medical kit in one of the drawers, so they take that as well.

The Daycare Attendant returns to find Gregory still in the rafters and Monty tearing into Roxy with loud, violent roars. Good. They ascend using their wire, studying Gregory closely. Their recent scan overlaps their visual input of the human, reminding them of where the injuries were. The ankle, the forearm, and the leg. The cuts will need to be cleaned and bandaged; the ankle needs to be iced, and possibly wrapped.

They reach out, but Gregory pulls away.

"Did you find a pass in the office?" he asks. "We can do the whole 'tending to injuries' later."

Later? The Daycare Attendant looks down at Gregory, unable to comprehend his words. Injuries can worsen if left alone for too long. That's such an obviously unacceptable outcome that, for a moment, they wonder if they misheard him. "We found one," they say, to placate him. "Nothing else. I doubt it will be of use right now, though. Please allow me to -"

"Gimme. I think if it's the right kind, I can do the manual override," Gregory interrupts, grinning confidently.

The Daycare Attendant's hands twitch. This is, they realize abruptly, irritating. It's incredibly irritating to have this child - no, adult - sitting here, injured and within reach, yet refusing immediate treatment. It's incredibly irritating when the reason for his refusal is to help the animatronic who was probably responsible for his kidnapping in the first place. Roxy's the only one who appears to be affected by the virus - it's likely that with her ability to see through walls, she'd managed to slip past them undetected.

After a moment, the Daycare Attendant sighs. They have the authority to override Gregory's request and treat him anyway - they'd made sure of that when they adjusted the permissions on his guest pass - but they can't. He would struggle and possibly hurt himself. Even worse, he might not trust them if they act too forceful.

The Daycare Attendant hands over the guest pass. "Don't drop it," they say as calmly as possible.

"I won't," Gregory says, examining the guest pass. The Daycare Attendant resists the urge to snatch it away. "This has pretty high clearance, but unfortunately it's not the right one for stuff like manual overrides. Maybe we could drag Roxy to Parts and Services? I should be able to activate the program necessary to flush her systems for now, at least."

The Daycare Attendant perks up. "Ah, of course! Mister Montgomery!" they call, swinging down from the rafters on their wire.

The alligator in question shoves Roxy into the ground, struggling to keep her claws away from his face. He glares at the Attendant, eyes gleaming. His sunglasses have been knocked away, lost somewhere in the shadowy hallway.

And then he pauses. "Moon? What're you -"

Roxy shrieks, slamming into him, and the alligator is forced to focus on the fight. The wolf is certainly a strong and well-built animatronic - since Monty is clearly trying not to damage her too badly, it's a clearly not easy for him to remain unscathed. There's already claw marks across his chest, and nicks in his legs.

The Daycare Attendant is slow to process Monty's words. When they do, something seems to catch in their processors.

Moon. Monty had seen Moon.

They'd forgotten - he'd forgotten -

The Daycare's Attendant anger vanishes like smoke in the wind. They splinter apart.

There is Sun in the back of their head, waves of horror and fear rolling off of the AI in waves. He'd worked so hard to be a recluse, to keep away from the others, and yet here they are. Caught.

There is Moon standing before the fighting animatronics. Exposed to anyone who cares to look. His existence revealed for the first time in years.

Moon isn't supposed to be out and about. Moon isn't supposed to be functional. Moon isn't -

Moon hurts children.

He takes a step back, limbs stiff. That's not true, not anymore, but -

It's not -

They can't -

Roxy's eyes land on them, and she snarls, eyes glowing a vivid, sickening shade of violet. "Troublemaker," she growls, voice distorted. "Where is he? Where is Gregory? That lying, rotten child! Give him back! I'll kill him!"

And just like that, the Daycare Attendant recognizes Roxy as a threat. "Move," they say to Monty, hardly sparing the alligator a glance as they lunge at Roxy.

The Daycare Attendant is wonderfully efficient at dismantling other animatronics. That night with the rabbit-in-the-suit is proof enough, but this? Pinning down the struggling animatronic, digging their silicone fingers into unyielding metal joints and pulling just so? In the dark, Roxy's figure thrashes, indistinguishable from the shadows around her, but the Attendant is a robot. More than that, they're the Naptime Attendant.

They can see well enough in the dark to perform something as easy as mere dismantlement.

The Daycare Attendant remembers this feeling of efficiency, suddenly. It's different from their usual actions - as if a certain restraint has been lifted; there is a sync between the two AI, producing something... different. This was a protocol that was disabled years ago, before the Incident even occurred. The activation triggers must have remained in their individual AI even when the framework of the protocol was removed, although that doesn't explain why they're suddenly activating it now.

What was this protocol called again? The Daycare Attendant thinks they might have had a name for it. Before it was taken from them.

...Wasn't it -

"Moon!" they hear from behind them. "Look out!"

They let go of Roxy and spring into the air, the wire in their back lifting them effortlessly.

Monty's claws swipe through the space they were just in. Moon shakes himself, his protocols clamoring for attention. "What was that for?" he asks blankly.

"Don't steal my fight!" Monty growls. "And stop it! Roxy's already down!"

"Technically, she's 'temporarily decommissioned,'" Gregory says, making jazz hands. He's got a grin on his face and a purple glint in his eyes.

Moon looks at Gregory, his expression somewhere between irritation and disgust. "Really, kid?"

The young man looks away, shrugging. "I mean, it's true," he says.

"You - I - ugh. I'm going to take Roxy to Parts and Services and you're all gonna help fix her," Monty grumbles. He picks up the shredded exoskeleton, the broken bits and pieces clattering against each other. "And then maybe you can explain yourselves without sounding like a bunch of lunatics. And you'd better have a good explanation."

Moon doesn't, but that's beside the point. Moon and Gregory follow Monty silently, exchanging glances.

Gregory doesn't look like he quite knows what's going on either. Or at least, that's what Moon assumes, judging from the confused smile on the human's face.

Come to think of it, why is Gregory smiling? Even though they've barely scraped through this - and in fact, the night isn't over yet - Gregory seems almost relaxed in their arms. Isn't he still injured?

Odd. Might be a reaction to stress.

Chapter Text

The animatronics have no problem navigating in the dark, but Gregory can't make out much more than indistinct shapes in the shadows.

He's grateful that Moon carries him there on his back. Admittedly, he's practically falling asleep with his face cushioned against the Naptime Attendant's unfairly soft hat, but that's fine. Probably.

Now that he's relatively safe - because the Daycare Attendant clearly has no problem shredding any threats that come near - he can feel his energy draining away.

Didn't he sleep for over twelve hours? How is he still tired? Sleep debt can be a real pain in the ass sometimes; idly, Gregory wonders just how many hours it would take to make up for what he's missed. Probably more than he could count.

He doesn't quite notice he's dozed off, lulled by Moon's smooth movements, until there's a sharp clatter of noise making him jerk awake.

They've reached Parts & Services. Gregory can see the familiar containment area, with the table reminiscent of a hospital bed in the center. Screens, wires, and mechanical attachments extend from the ceiling, poised to start operating. A single bright light shines in the cylindrical space, flickering ominously. Moon stands a noticeable distance away, but Monty's already walked inside and dumped Roxy's parts on the table.

"Still don't like this place," Monty says, breaking the silence. He steps back with a scowl. "Roxy won't be too happy to wake up here, either. Try to work quick, alright?"

Gregory sighs. "No promises," he mutters, reluctantly moving. He pulls away from Moon, intending to get off of the animatronic and hobble his way into the cylinder, but Moon's grip tightens briefly.

"Don't get up," Moon says. "You're still injured."

Monty raises his head. "What, really? Where?"

"One sprained ankle. Two cuts, one on the forearm and one below the knee," Moon says drily. "Gregory still requires medical treatment. If we could take a moment, then I would like to tend to his injuries."

"Hey, I'm fine," Gregory tries to protest.

Monty turns to look at Gregory. "You," the alligator says flatly, "are an idiot. Look, kid, I'm still mad about this whole," he gestures at Roxy, "whatever this is, but I can't say you didn't solve one problem this way - even if it's rude to butt into a fight that ain't yours. And you can't fix anything if you're broken yourself, so just let Moon patch you up, alright?"

Technically, it was Moon who'd done the butting in and ripping Roxy apart bit, but Gregory decides that sassing Monty might not be the wisest move right now. "Fine," he says instead. Gregory pats Moon's shoulder. "Can you take me over to Roxy while you do that?" he asks. "I might as well get started looking at her - we might need to replace some parts and looking for the right stuff will take forever."

"I can grab what's needed," Monty says. "Don't worry about it."

Gregory grins. "Thanks."

Moon shifts his weight, then moves forward. The hat retracts and is replaced by Sun's rays as the animatronic steps into the brightly lit cylinder.

Monty raises an eyebrow. "Never seen that in action before," he comments.

Sun's shoulders slump the slightest bit. Gregory realizes that Sun must've been worried - makes sense, considering that when he'd first arrived at the Pizzaplex, Moon hadn't even wanted to talk to him for fear of being activated around humans. He can only imagine how awkward it must be to be around Monty, who, for all his rough attitude, is still one of the Glamrocks. One of the main attractions in the building.

"Yes. Thankfully we're quite sturdy; otherwise, maintenance would be frequent and extensive," Sun says, lifting Gregory and placing him on the table with no small amount of firmness. "Please hold still. I will be treating your injuries, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks," Gregory says, already distracted by the mess that remains of Roxy. He can see where parts of her metal plating is bent in the shape of fingers. The Daycare Attendant's hands are coated in silicone, but underneath, there must be a strong metal frame to do this kind of damage. He reaches out with his right arm, but Sun quickly pulls the arm back forward.

"Hold still," the Daycare Attendant says, and Gregory almost scowls. He doesn't, because he's rude but he's not a jerk and Sun is just helping, but there are other things to do than clean day-old wounds! Damn thing's long scabbed over and only aches a little. Can't they just leave it alone?

He doesn't say any of that. However, once Sun's wiped the skin clean, the animatronic places a cotton pad on the wound and starts bandaging it, and Gregory can't stop himself from asking, "Isn't that a bit much?"

"No," Sun says cheerfully. The Daycare Attendant's smile is rather strained.

Well, nevermind then. Gregory turns his attention back to Roxy, using his other arm to poke and prod at the broken animatronic.

It's annoying work, especially since Moon didn't hold back in ripping apart a lot of the wires. Efficient, but messy. Gregory wonders, briefly, how Freddy managed to put himself back together all those nights ago. After all, he doubts Sun was any gentler in his actions.

Gregory asks Monty, and the alligator shrugs. "It wasn't really a repair job; it was a data transfer," Monty says. "He's got at least two spares ready at all times. Perks of being the lead singer, I guess."

"Huh. Does Roxy have a spare, too?"

"Sure, but unlike Freddy, the rest of us have a limited amount of back ups. I'd rather salvage this body first, if possible."

Makes sense. Gregory catalogues the visible damage in his head, then gets to work turning on the control console so he can inspect the internal components. Thankfully, at this point, Sun's moved on to his leg, so Gregory gets to use both of his hands for this part. The high clearance pass Moon found earlier works like a charm, and the system boots up in a matter of minutes.

There's a lot of damage concentrated on the chest and throat area. Gregory takes a moment to imagine what that would look like on a human; he regrets it immediately.

"We need to replace that chest plate," Gregory says finally. "The endoskeleton is doing pretty well, all things considered - instead of replacing, I think I can just patch up and reconnect most of the wires. One of the batteries is missing, though... Uh, we'll need to replace her jaw, too. Obviously."

"Obviously," Monty echoes, sounding - surprisingly - amused.

Gregory frowns at the screen, considering the scan results. "I'm not entirely sure what's up with her eyes, but I think we should replace those, too."

"What? They look fine to me."

"Yeah, but... there's something weird about them? I think they might be... faulty or something. They're labeled as experimental... a newer model, right?"

Monty snorts. "Sure, from about ten years ago. Haven't changed since then, though, so I guess you're not wrong. You're saying I need to find an older model?"

"Yeah, that'll work." Gregory taps the table, thinking. "I don't suppose you'd be able to find my stuff too, while you're at it?"

Monty rolls his eyes. "I'm not your errand boy, I'm just looking for stuff to keep my bandmate from being a scrap pile." He waves a hand. "But I'll keep an eye out."

"Cool. Thanks."

Monty nods. "A new chest plate, a battery, a replacement jaw, a pair of the older model of Roxy's eyes... Did you need tools for the wires, too?"

"Nah, I'll probably use the set-up in here for that," Gregory says. "Otherwise I'd probably be patching it up with electrical tape and prayers."

Monty sighs heavily. "Alright. I'll be back soon - I have an idea of where to find everything, so it should only take a few minutes. Get your stories straight before then, because I don't feel like wasting time listening to you two figure out how to explain this whole... thing." He nods at Sun and then leaves.

Gregory frowns. "Get our stories straight?"

"We still owe him an explanation, after all," Sun says, smiling. The animatronic ties off the bandage on his ankle and straightens slightly. "They might have let it go if this occurred only once, but now that there's been a second instance of the virus, they will likely all want to know what's going on. I must admit, though, that even I am partially in the dark."

"What? But you saw what happened."

"Yes, but we never quite talked about it after, did we?" Sun points out. "Here is what I know: there is a virus that infects the animatronics. It causes them to behave erratically, influencing their programming and taking their actions to the extreme. The one who perpetrated the whole thing is a man who should have been dead; I believe he was an Afton. There were - um. There were -" Sun says, voicebox glitching, before falling silent. There's a look of vague frustration on the animatronic's face.

Gregory reaches out, poking the Daycare Attendant's chest plate. "You good?"

Sun hesitates. "I'm sorry, there is something we are having difficulty with. One moment."

Gregory waits.

After a short while, Sun shakes his faceplate lightly. "I'm programmed to reassure children that ghosts are not real," the Daycare Attendant says. "But that's not true, it seems."

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Ghosts are real," Gregory says, surprised.

Sun smiles. "Yes. There were ghosts. And they - the ghosts, they took that man and - and they - oh dear, not again." Sun's rays rotate slightly, expressing the animatronic's distress.

Gregory waits again. He reflects on how annoying it must be to have to update your own brain to accept new information. Especially if it contradicts with something that's supposed to be a surefire truth.

"They dragged him into hell, didn't they? Or something like that," Sun says finally.

"Yeah. Or something like that," Gregory confirms. He frowns. "I didn't realize that's all you knew. Sorry about that, I guess I just... didn't want to even think about it, much less talk about it."

"It's quite alright," Sun says. The animatronic sways slightly, clasping his hands. "However, I was not done! There's one other thing we know about this whole situation."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Sun leans in close, his ever present smile growing a little wider. "Did you know that, occasionally, your eyes tend to glow?"

Gregory's entire body flinches away from those words. He feels, suddenly, like there's not enough air in his lungs.

"What?" he manages.

Sun's head tilts. "Your eyes have a strange tendency to glow. We originally thought it might be a form of tapetum lucidum, normally found in the eyes of nocturnal animals, but it's not the same type of phenomenon. The purple in your eyes is not a reflection, but rather -"

"Did you say purple?" Gregory asks, his voice strained.

"Yes." Sun pulls back a little. "Gregory? Is something wrong?"

"Purple?" Gregory repeats to himself. He kind of wants to pull it together and try to sound coherent, but all he can think of is his dad, waking him up from nightmares. Of Vanessa, cowering from the long-dead man whose eyes were an awful, vivid shade of violet. "Purple?" he says again. He thinks his voice might have cracked.

Sun places two silicone hands on his face, cradling his cheeks. "Gregory," the animatronic says, voice gentle. "Gregory, look at me."

Gregory looks.

"What color are my eyes?"

"White."

"What about the rest of me?"

"Yellow. Red." Gregory pauses, glancing at Sun's body. "Orange and... off-white, I guess," he adds slowly, confused. But also feeling somewhat nauseated, for some reason.

Sun nods, hands moving down to hold Gregory's. His bells jingle at the movement. "What do you feel, right now?"

"Cold. Sick."

"Anything else?"

"The table's hard." Gregory looks down, feeling Sun squeeze his hands briefly. "You're holding my hands."

"Yes. Is that alright?"

"Sure." He doesn't really understand the point of these questions.

"Can you hear my bells?"

"Yeah."

"What's something else you hear?"

Gregory opens his mouth, then stops. "I'm not having a panic attack," he says roughly.

He's read about this before. A grounding technique, meant to help someone get back to reality, to recall their brain from whatever nightmare it's inflicting on itself.

It's something he always found interesting but never had to use for himself. Obviously, it has its uses. Just... not right now.

Because he doesn't need it. He's not having a panic attack.

Sun squeezes his hands again but doesn't let go. "I apologize," the animatronic says. "I did not mean to cause distress. It was not a negative observation - we were simply curious, as it was unusual and... seemed to be relevant." Sun leans forward, faceplate lightly touching Gregory's forehead. "We're sorry."

Gregory lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "It's fine," he says. Like a liar. He's crap at it, especially when he's feeling like the emotional equivalent of a towel wrung dry, but Sun doesn't comment.

Instead, the animatronic hums softly. A tune winds its way through the air, slow and calming.

Gregory closes his eyes. He's not happy about this. About having to sit next to Roxy's broken body. About the virus resurfacing and ruining his life again. About breaking down in front of Sun.

But he's tired.

If he weren't busy, he thinks he might just fall asleep right here. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed against the flickering light and says, "Ten years ago -"

He stops. He doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't even want to think about it - but this is important. He owes the Daycare Attendant this much, at least; they deserve the truth.

Sun squeezes his hands again. Gregory takes comfort in that and gathers his courage.

Monty picks that moment to walk in, arms occupied by a pile of parts. Sun's melody cuts off abruptly. "Got your stories straight?" Monty asks, dumping the parts on a side table.

"Sure. It's story time, right? I've got a story for you both," Gregory says, speaking with a confidence he doesn't quite feel.

He reaches out for the computer, giving his hands something to do. As the mechanical arms start removing parts of the damaged exoskeleton, Gregory starts talking.

"Ten years ago," he says, his voice even, "I was nearly killed by Fr - by William Afton. Do you know who that is?"

"Never heard of him," Monty says blithely.

Gregory cracks a grin. "He's the most evil man in the world."

It's surreal to talk about this. It's uncomfortable, even. He's so used to keeping all his secrets close, hiding them with barbed wire and humor. A serious discussion like this is way out of his comfort zone.

"He's the one who made the Glitchtrap virus," Gregory continues. He decides to keep it as simple as possible. "Before it was a virus made up of ones and zeros, it was more like a curse. Something that infected everything around him. That man was haunted by ghosts."

He pauses for a moment, directing the machines to begin cutting and reconnecting the torn wires. "Anyway, just because his body's gone doesn't mean that he is. It seems."

"It seems?" Monty echoes. "There's a ghost haunting our building and you can only guess if he's still around?!"

"Technically, there's more than - yeah. Yeah, I don't know shit about this because I'm just guessing." Gregory sighs. "He was hiding out in the building as a fucking zombie and... and I got rid of him. But it looks like he's sticking around in other ways."

He fiddles with the controls again, removing Roxy's eyes. As the machines replace them, he grabs one mechanical orb and checks the metallic lining. "On a related note, do either of you know about Remnant?"

Both animatronics shake their head, the confusion clear on their faces. Monty's managed to acquire sunglasses from somewhere, actually, but his expression looks appropriately nonplussed.

"Right. Well, picture this - orichalcum. A Greek metal that's mostly fictional. When used in modern media, it often serves as an overpowered material with all sorts of magical qualities." Gregory turns the mechanical eye over, letting the metal bits catch the light. "Remnant is a bit like that, except it's real. And what it does depends on how it's manipulated. In its simplest form, it has a tendency to... trap souls."

Sun's head swivels, locking on Gregory. "Souls," the animatronic repeats. "So, even though the man himself is gone, you're saying that where there is Remnant - in this building - he is still present? Specifically, this virus is present?"

"Yep," Gregory says with a casual attitude that he does not feel. In fact, he feels a bit like there's something cold in his stomach.

Saying all of this out loud makes it feel a little too real.

Monty leans in. "Hey, kid," the animatronic says. "You seem to know an awful lot about this, and the Pizzaplex; and yet, none of us remember ever seeing you here before you started working. When you say 'ten years ago,' does that mean you were here during the Incident? Because that would explain a few things."

The ghosts in his head perk up, vague feelings of amusement washing through him. "Yeah, you could say that," he says, giggling.

"You said you'd win 'this time,'" Sun says suddenly.

Gregory blinks at the Daycare Attendant, confused. "What?"

Sun's rays rotate jerkily, his eyes wide. "The rabbit. The game - you said you'd win 'this time,'" the animatronic says, sounding distantly horrified. He stands, suddenly, hands twitching. "Gregory. You were just a - a child? Your listed age is 23 years old. That means..." Sun's voice box makes a strange noise, staticky and strained.

Monty frowns. "Whoa, back up. Are we still talking about the same thing?"

"Rulebreaker," Sun says, so softly that Gregory almost thinks he misheard. But then Sun says, louder, "You're the little rulebreaker. You're - we hurt - we chased -"

"You remember?" Gregory asks, confused. He's pretty sure the reports had said that the affected animatronics had had their memories wiped to remove the virus - although that had obviously failed. But none of the other animatronics had remembered, and at this point he'd assumed that the Daycare Attendant wouldn't either.

Sun's hands flex. The Daycare Attendant takes a step back, bumping into a table. "Oh dear. Oh dear," he mutters, backing away some more. "Oh my - we didn't mean to..."

Gregory stumbles to his feet, wincing as he accidentally puts weight on his ankle. He'd meant to reach out and keep Sun from moving too far, but the Daycare Attendant is by his side in an instant, shoving him back onto the table with a firm grip. "Don't move," Sun says sternly, but then he lets go immediately.

"I'm not broken," Gregory snaps, grabbing Sun's wrist. The animatronic stills under his touch, and somehow that just makes him even more mad. "That was years ago. And you never hurt me, anyway. So it's fine."

Sun shakes his head, avoiding his gaze. "We're sorry," the Daycare Attendant says, lacking his normal cheer. "So sorry."

"Well, good," Gregory says, as firmly as possible. "So stay."

Monty tilts his head. "Did we hurt you?" he asks quietly. It's clear who he means, of course. He's talking about the Glamrocks; about Chica, Monty, Roxy, and...

Gregory smiles bitterly. "Well, a little, but. You know. It wasn't your fault."

"...Did Freddy hurt you?" the alligator asks.

Gregory's breath catches in his chest. He knew he hadn't been subtle with his feelings, had made it clear he didn't like the lead singer of the band, but... he hadn't thought Monty would connect the dots so quickly. He hadn't been expecting to be asked so soon, and so bluntly.

Gregory grits his teeth. The ghosts in his head won't shut up, and he doesn't want to say anything for fear of saying something he'd regret. For fear of letting them speak for him.

But his silence is its own kind of answer, and Monty's expression falls.

Chapter Text

When Roxy wakes up, there is silence.

She knows that's strange. Her memories are partially corrupted, but she has an empty queue and a backlog of protocols and the sense that there is a threat. An intruder, even.

Roxy opens her eyes, and it only takes half of a second for her to realize that the silence is not the only thing that's wrong.

She can't see. There is metal and light above her, and nothing else. No overlapping vision that tells her about the floor above hers. No visuals beyond the ceiling and the lights, no knowledge of who could be waiting around the corner and no safety net of knowledge of where all of her friends are at any given moment.

Roxy sits up, eyes scanning the room. She catalogues each entity - Monty, Gregory, Sun - and stores the information.

Her head feels strangely empty. It's almost like someone performed a soft reset of her systems, but why would anyone do that?

"How're you feeling?" the human asks, quickly. His voice wavers slightly; as if he'd been crying a moment ago. But his face is dry and his eyes are clear, so perhaps she's misinterpreting the sounds.

Roxy closes her eyes. "I am not sure," she says. She recognizes the room - Parts & Services - and draws a conclusion. She must have malfunctioned somehow, and perhaps that explains the inconsistencies in her records. Although she wasn't aware that the human was a registered technician... or perhaps she was? There's a vague recollection of that, somewhere in her memories, but the visual and auditory records for that discussion appear to be missing.

No, not missing - corrupted.

"My eyes and memory drive are not operating at optimal levels," she says flatly.

"There was a virus in your systems," Gregory tells her. "There was a corruption in your eyes, so we had to replace them with an older model."

Roxy frowns. That makes sense. After a moment, she realizes that her speech patterns have returned to default mode, so she takes a moment to reactivate the program responsible for her usual personality. "That's weird," she says bluntly. "Those have been installed for over a decade, I think we would've caught a corruption in them by now."

Gregory shrugs. And then he explains about Remnant, and ghosts, and the supernatural. And honestly, it sounds... kind of crazy. It sounds like a child grasping at fairytales and stories.

But then he tells her about how she had acted. When she tells him that much of her memory is corrupted, he tells her about what had happened, the night that the Glamrocks had chased him down and had tried to batter down the doors of the security office. He tells her about the basement, and of the dead man within.

Sun - and that's a surprise she'll unpack later, because isn't the Daycare Attendant supposed to stay in the Daycare? - confirms that it had all really happened. And while she might doubt a human, even if the human thinks he's telling the truth, it's unlikely that Sun would go along with the charade so earnestly. And it's even less likely that Sun would have such confidence in a memory that isn't true.

When Monty confirms that her behavior has continuously gone beyond their programming in recent days - well, that's the final nail in the coffin.

Roxy grimaces. "I'm so sorry," she says. The words taste sour, and her coding dislikes the feeling of needing to say sorry to anyone - but damn, she really messed this one up, didn't she? The need to protect her friends, the wary caution that led her to keep an eye on the newcomer... when did that turn into a need to hurt Gregory? She can vaguely recall the feeling, but it doesn't make sense to her anymore. As if it's a record recovered from someone else, not something she'd done on her own accord. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear. I just..." Is she really going to make excuses? "I'm sorry."

There's a moment of silence. Gregory makes a face. "Well, please don't kidnap me again."

"I did what?!"

"Apparently you slipped right past the Daycare Attendant," Monty speaks up, sounding amused. "Didn't know you had it in you, wolf."

Roxy's head turns so fast that her internal sensors have to recalibrate. "I would never," she says vehemently. She's not fond of the Daycare Attendant, of course, but more than that, the Daycare is quite clearly 'someone-else's-territory.' Roxy wouldn't step foot in there to do something so blatantly disrespectful! Or, at least, she wouldn't in normal circumstances.

Sun smiles, clasping his hands together. "You did, actually," the Daycare Attendant says cheerfully. "After all, who else could it have been? No other animatronics have shown symptoms of the virus so far, and I highly doubt anyone else is so capable of slipping past us the way you can!"

Her first instinct is to feel pride at the obvious praise, but she swallows down that feeling. Because she intruded on someone else's territory and that's the worst.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "That's - I didn't mean to do any of that. I barely remember any of that, actually. A lot of my memories are corrupted right now, I don't - I'm sorry."

Sun waves a hand, fingers fluttering through the air. "It's quite alright!... Well, no, it isn't, but we do appreciate the apology! Please do try to not repeat this in the future, okay?"

Roxy buries her face in her paws.

"It's my fault too," Monty says out loud. "You've gotten more irritable over the years, but I only noticed when Gregory arrived. You kind of started to spiral when he came, but I just thought it was the usual annoyance."

"It's hardly your fault," Roxy mutters, her voice box muffled. "It felt like me. It felt normal. Now that it's gone, though, it's - obvious."

"So you're not gonna try to kill me anymore, right?" Gregory asks.

"No! No, I - no." Roxy shakes her head. "I never really planned to in the first place, I think I just wanted you gone - although now that I think about it, that was probably just... anyway, no, I won't. I don't even know how I ended up obsessing over you like that."

Gregory shrugs. "Virus," he says, like that explains everything. And it does, kind of.

Roxy groans. And then, with effort, she rearranges her protocols, stores several issues in her queue to review later, and then pulls herself together. She is Roxanne Wolf, and she is no longer under the control of a virus. She needs to be better than this.

"Do you have a plan to clear out the rest of the Pizzaplex?" she asks. "I can't imagine that was the only piece of Remnant that snuck its way in."

Gregory's face twists. "I don't know how to start," he admits. "I got lucky with you - obviously there was something wrong, and I was able to figure it out after reading the records and looking at the scan. Searching through the rest of the building blindly probably won't be easy."

"I might have been able to help, with those eyes. If I knew what I was looking for, anyway," Roxy says thoughtfully. "But we probably shouldn't."

"Yeah, we're destroying those eyes of yours the next chance we get," Monty interrupts.

Roxy rolls her eyes. "I was gonna say that, gator. Obviously it's a bad idea, I was just pointing out the possibility."

"Oh! I could help!" Sun pipes up, swaying from side to side. "We can access the cameras... and the system records! It's a part of our security assistance protocols. If we can go through the records of how Roxy's eyes were produced, then we can find similar records and possibly locate the rest of the Remnant that way!"

Monty grins. "Not bad. How long would that take?"

Sun taps a finger on his faceplate. "Oh, not very long. Admittedly, it's quite a lot of records to go through, but we should be able to provide some answers in a day or two."

"The costume party is in a day," Roxy says abruptly. The memory of Chica talking about it with excitement comes to the forefront of her processors. "On Halloween. We'll be busy all night - I mean, this is important, but..."

"I see! Then perhaps we should discuss this again in two days?" Sun suggests. "We should be able to locate anything significant by then!"

Monty nods. "We can tell the others about all this too," he says. There's something stiff in his tone, but when Roxy catches his eye, the alligator shakes his head slightly. "Catch them up on all the drama that's happened. But man, just when we think it's all calmed down, another problem pops up. Damn shame is what it is. Can't we enjoy a holiday in peace?"

"Not like you were doing anything other than throwing pumpkin guts at my face," Roxy mutters.

Monty throws up his hands, a toothy smirk on his face. "It was fun! You wouldn't know fun if it bit you on the tail!"

Roxy snarls at him lightly, but he doesn't even look fazed. Damn him.

Chapter Text

"We made a costume for you!"

Gregory blinks slowly, having the sense that his eyelids are sticking together. He'd had to take a taxi to and from the Pizzaplex on account of his ankle, so he was less awake for his shift than he usually was. No nice, meandering walk to slowly regain consciousness this time around.

"What?" he finally asks, struggling to form words properly. A costume? Did he hear that right?

Sun's head rotates clockwise, energy coursing through the animatronic's entire frame. He looks giddy and excited. "We made a costume for you!" Sun repeats, rocking on his heels.

"...Right." Gregory swivels in his office chair, facing the Daycare Attendant fully. "What for?"

"For the costume party!"

Gregory squints. "Tonight? That costume party?"

Sun nods eagerly, hands flying through the air. "Yes, yes! Why, it's going to be so much fun! There'll be food and drink and games - oh, and everyone is invited, of course! It'll be so much fun!"

"...I have a project due by the end of this week, Sun. If I don't finish the outline by tonight... I'm kind of behind on school right now."

The Daycare Attendant noticeably calms down. "Oh dear! Homework is very important... hm... But it's important to have fun too..." Sun leans back, tapping the bottom of his faceplate with a thoughtful expression. "Would you like some help? We can finish your outline before the party starts! That way you won't have to worry about having fun!"

Gregory holds back a grimace. In theory, it would be nice to have help, but he hates doing schoolwork while other people are looking. "When does it start?" he asks.

"In three hours! You have plenty of time!"

Ah... hashing out an outline in three hours, huh? Well, he's worked with worse deadlines. "I'll try to finish this by then," he compromises. "Could you check in later? I'll try to be done half an hour before it starts."

"Oh, alright! Are you sure you don't want some help?"

"I'm sure you'd be helpful, but it's mostly research, which is kind of something I have to do myself. Thanks though," Gregory says regretfully. It would be nice to have the help of an animatronic, but it makes him uneasy to turn this kind of thing over to someone else, regardless of how intelligent they are. He has to present it, too, so he might as well stay in control of the project from the start.

Sun nods agreeably. "Okay! We'll be back later. Shall I patrol in the meantime? That way you won't have to worry about work while you study!"

Gregory blinks, then smiles lopsidedly. "Actually, that would be a great help. Thank you."

Sun waves cheerfully and skips down the hallway; there's a bounce to his step that's been missing lately. Things have been stressful for a lot of people, the Daycare Attendant included. Must be why he's so excited for the costume party - they all need a break after what happened with Roxy.

Gregory puts on headphones and gets to work. He'd originally planned to spend all night working on the outline, probably dozing off in between attempts at finding citations and piecing together some half-thought-out concept, but now he has something to look forward to. Or at least, a deadline to keep to.

Either way, it's motivation, and Gregory works just fine when he can muster up the energy for it. He's always been good when it comes to school work, even if he hates it - it's the only reason he's been able to balance his awful schedule so well. At the end of the two-and-a-half hour mark, he's got a decent outline and only a mild headache to show for it. Not bad.

When Sun pops his head in the office, Gregory abruptly remembers that not only is there a costume party, but there's also a costume.

The Daycare Attendant made him a costume.

Gregory narrows his eyes. "If the costume is something embarrassing, I'll chicken out," he threatens.

Sun blinks, smiling wide. "You can just go as you are if you want!" he says cheerfully. "But look at this first? Please?"

Gregory takes the folded-up pile of clothes, eyeing Sun warily. "Where's your costume?"

"Oh, don't worry - we can change in a jiffy!" Sun taps his faceplate thoughtfully. "I'll come back in ten minutes? That way, you'll have time to change too!"

"Sure."

Sun waves and then leaves. Gregory shuts the door, grinning a little. He's sure the party itself won't be nearly so fun, but at least Sun will be there.

He starts unfolding the costume, curious to see what the Daycare Attendant could have made for him. There's something heavy in it, but he doesn't think much of it until it falls right out of the pile with a loud thunk.

After recovering from the scare, Gregory leans down from his chair, eyeing it curiously.

It's a cane. A real cane, made of some kind of dark metal; the handle is pure white, shaped like a fluffy cloud. Gregory takes a moment to wonder where the Daycare Attendant could have acquired such a thing. And how this could possibly fit into whatever outfit they put together.

He gets his answer when he unfolds the rest of the costume, spreading it out on the desk before him.

The first item is a dark blue, almost black coat with large sleeves and a long hem, reaching down to his knees. There are yellow stars along the edges of the sleeves and along the collar. There are lines between some of them too, like half-formed constellations that glitter in the light. Upon closer inspection, Gregory realizes that the constellations are all stitched from bright yellow thread. He grins.

The second item is a plain black mask, designed to cover the top half of his face.

The last item is a pair of gloves tucked in the folds of the costume. They're made from soft yellow cloth, reminiscent of the fabric used in his jacket. It might be the same kind, actually - after all, the Daycare Attendant made both items.

Gregory doesn't even have to stand to put it all on. He buttons up the coat over his work shirt and slips the gloves on with ease. Both fit comfortably, and it's almost a crime how easily the costume fits over his regular clothes, especially when it looks so well-made. Gregory has some trouble with the mask, but after some effort, he manages to tie it on in a way that keeps it from slipping.

He has no idea who or what he's supposed to be, but the costume is fantastical and comfortable, so he'll just wear it anyway.

Gregory picks up the cane, then nearly drops it again as the security door opens with a bang.

"Hello!" Sun says cheerfully, bending over a bit more than usual to avoid the doorframe. "Ooh, you look wonderful!"

"Thanks!" Gregory spreads his hands in front of him, examining some of stitching along the cuffs of his sleeves. "This is actually pretty cool. Where'd you get the idea for this, anyway?"

Sun shrugs, waving a hand. "We thought it'd suit you, that's all!" he says cheerfully. "We're glad to see it fits well! We wanted it to be comfortable, so it might be a bit large."

"Nah, it fits okay." Gregory takes in Sun's outfit. A red scarf, overalls, a long-sleeved shirt, and fingerless gloves. The entire outfit is made from warm colors - it suits Sun so well that when Gregory tries to imagine Moon in it, it just looks wrong. He notices a few sunflowers sewn on the pocket of the overalls. Maybe Sun's the only one planning to be out and about during the party. He understands - Moon doesn't seem inclined to parties. "Yours looks really good too," he says, honestly impressed. He wonders how long the Daycare Attendant has been working on their outfit.

Sun beams. "Thank you!" he says. "By the way, we hope you'll use the cane; it should make things easier! Ideally, you shouldn't be walking at all, but... you probably wouldn't want us to carry you all night! Although, if you wanted us to, we would!"

"Oh, no, the cane's fine," Gregory quickly says. Sun just hums in response.

The Daycare Attendant chatters away as they walk to the main hall, talking about the children he's watched that day. There were not many today, apparently, but he name drops so many that Gregory suspects that 'not many' translates into 'a lot' - it must be hectic in the Daycare. He's had that thought before, but just listening to Sun talk about his day makes Gregory feel even more tired just by listening. It must show, because Sun glances at his face and quickly switches topics.

"We were looking at the records," Sun says cheerfully, hands flying through the air. "Ms. Roxy's eyes apparently came from a place well-known for innovative designs; they often act as a third-party provider specifically for companies who wish to outsource experimental robotics. Originally, we were going to look into who had ordered the parts and work from there, but the company name caught our eye... It was, ah, called Afton Robotics."

Gregory flinches. "Oh," he says dully. The name is a shock, but he reminds himself that the person behind the name is dead. He and everyone else made sure of it.

Sun makes an apologetic gesture. "According to the history of the company, it was dissolved after several lawsuits and the death of its owner, but the name was bought by another organization and used to operate a subsidiary company specifically to continue the kind of work that Afton Robotics was known for." The Daycare Attendant pauses, then reaches out and pats Gregory's head. "There seems to be no real connection with the original company."

"So then, we're looking for stuff that was made by them?" Gregory asks quickly, eager to change the subject. "Sounds easy enough. How many parts could have been order from this one company?"

Sun's smile grows a little strained. "We're still going through the records, don't worry! I'm sure it can't be too much. Surely it... well, new parts are ordered all the time, so we're just being careful!"

"That's good. Thanks for doing all that," Gregory says. He can't imagine if he, a human, had to go through over a decade's worth of documentation in only two days. Manually, no less, since he doubts any of the documents contains useful keywords such as 'Remnant' or 'spooky metal.' Sun and Moon might act incredibly human, but being an animatronic has a lot of perks when it comes to the skill department.

They reach the main hall and the conversation peters out, replaced by the general noise and hubbub of the gathered robots. Sun seems a little nervous, clutching his scarf and pulling it a little higher over his faceplate.

It doesn't help - his pointy rays are too distinctive. Before the Daycare Attendant can realize this, Gregory reaches out and pats Sun's arm. "We're gonna have fun, right?" he asks.

"Of course!" Sun says immediately. He smiles down at Gregory, all signs of nervousness vanishing in an instant.

Well, that's a fun way to use those caretaker instincts. Gregory makes a mental note to take advantage of those more. He then has the feeling that maybe it's a bit late to think of that after Sun and Moon have already conspired to try and make him sleep, but he's distracted from that train of thought as they step through the entrance of the main hall.

Gregory's first reaction is to be surprised by the amount of hats. Magician hats, cowboy hats, witch hats, sports hats, and even animal-shaped caps. A lot of the STAFF bots are wearing at least some kind of hat; for some, that's their entire costume, which makes sense considering the logistics of trying to dress up what's essentially a Wet Floor sign. Those that can wear clothes are wearing the accompanied outfit to go with their hat - suits, capes, etc. There's more variety than he'd thought possible; clearly everyone here is here for a good time.

Sun claps his hands. "Oh my!" he says, sounding incredibly enthusiastic. "Look! Some of the others have dressed up as characters from previous locations! What a fun idea!"

Considering the stories that his dad used to tell him about those places, Gregory very bravely does not make a face at those words. Instead, he follows Sun's gaze, and - it's surprisingly cool. There's a STAFF bot dressed as Ballora, and from the chest up, it's both recognizable and almost convincing. He thinks he recognizes the papier-mâché head it's wearing from the arts and crafts event, although it looks as though it's been touched-up and vastly improved since then. Chica has undergone a yellow makeover, and is holding a plate with a pink cupcake in one hand and a slice of half-eaten pizza in the other. He's not suite sure which of her predecessors she's aiming to resemble, but the intent is clear all the same. A sign bot is rolling around with a striped cap and a bunch of colorful balloons, as well as a sign that simply says 'Balloons!'

Sun smiles down at him. "Where would you like to go first? There are plenty of attractions and activities available! Also food, drink, and even friends!"

"I'd like to go say hi to Chica. Wanna come with?"

"Of course!" Sun clasps his hands together, eyes twinkling. "Lead the way!"

Gregory turns and weaves through the crowds and stalls. It's like a full-on carnival in here; much more impressive than the simple 'costume party' he'd been expecting. The noise is manageable, though, thanks to the fact that the robots tend to use their own little language of beeps and boops, which is all at a steady, measured volume. Chica is on the stage - he'd glimpsed her walking in - so he makes a beeline for it. Bots part easily when he has no way forward, and he makes sure to wave back at the ones who beep in his direction.

Eventually, he makes his way to the stage and spots Chica. "Hey Chica!" he calls out, grinning. "This is amazing!"

"Why thank you!" Chica says happily. "I'm so glad you're here, sweetie!" She reaches out and pat Gregory's shoulder, her beak curved in a smile. "And what are you dressed up as?"

Gregory leans a little more on his cane, looking down at himself. "No idea. Sun made it for me," he says, laughing. "Doesn't it look cool though?"

"It sure does!" Chica sends a knowing smile at Sun. "And what about you, mister? You've got a theme in mind, or...?"

"Just playing dress-up!" Sun says cheerfully, shifting his weight. "It's quite the fun game! Children love playing it all the time, but Halloween is certainly the best time to do so, don't you think?"

Chica chuckles. "You're right! Well, I'd hate to keep you. Make sure to have fun, okay?"

"Will do," Gregory says, performing a mock salute.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sun mimic the action, and Gregory has to stifle a pleased giggle.

Chica smiles at the two of them warmly and waves them away, her attention turning to another bot. There's a fresh slice of pizza in her hand. Gregory has no idea where it came from, and he decides some things are better left unknown.

"So, Sun!" he says, turning to his companion. "Where do you think we should go first?"

Chapter Text

Have you ever been to a carnival? Or any kind of festival, really. The ones with music are loud, but never in an easy sort of way. The ones with music have two settings - deafening, and barely audible. It mostly depends on where you're standing in relation to the building (or multiple buildings) with the speakers. Because that's how sound works.

Luckily, the main hall doesn't have that problem. It's all indoors, for starters, with speakers scattered across the ceiling for optimal surround sound. And the DJ is off to the side, controlling the volume so that it never veers into either extreme.

The hall itself is crammed with stalls, rides, and robots, making it all very overwhelming.

Sun hems and haws for a bit, trying to decide where to go first, until Gregory's stomach rumbles - fucking traitor - and the two decide to visit the food stalls before beginning to wander. It's easy enough to spot; someone had rigged up neon signs along a large white tent in the middle, declaring the presence of popcorn, hot dogs, candy apples, and more.

It's a little odd that there's such a large set-up for the food, but Gregory doesn't doubt that Chica would be able to polish off whatever's left. Besides, as he and Sun walked through the crowds, he can spot some STAFF bots carrying bags of snacks or sticks of hot dogs, apples, and crystal treats in their hands.

Playing pretend? Or can they 'eat' too? He's curious, but not enough to ask. Some things are better left unknown.

God, he hopes it's the former. He's fond of the STAFF bots, but not enough to be pleased that any one of them could turn into a mini version of Chica at any moment. She's sweet, but bots really shouldn't be able to feel hunger.

"Look! Nachos!" Sun exclaims, drawing Gregory from his thoughts. "Do you think the bots from el Chips made them?" Sun continues, head twisting to examine the menu.

Gregory shrugs. "Did you?" he asks the STAFF bot with a chef hat on.

It makes a noncommittal and frankly tired-sounding beep. Gregory squints at it, trying to determine what it said. Sun saves him the trouble by saying, "Oh, you did? That must be hard work, friend. I hope your shift ends soon!"

The STAFF bot makes a series of beeps, gesturing vaguely with its hand. There's a splotch of yellow paint underneath its left eye, and it's wearing an apron that has a 'HI! MY NAME IS' sticker with 'AAAAAA' written on it. Clearly, it had been told to write its name down; it's equally clear that the bot hadn't bothered to give a fuck.

It reminds him of those people in MMO's who clearly aren't playing for the character-creation side of the gameplay. Default settings, randomized names - the works.

"Gregory, did you want anything?" Sun prompts, and Gregory abruptly realizes that the conversation has stalled in favor of both bots simply waiting for him to say something.

Whoops. That's awkward.

He scans the menu again. "The cheesy nachos with beef?" he says uncertainly. That's the meal description, anyway - the actual name of the item is something he refuses to try and pronounce.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like the STAFF bot cares either way. It simply turns and starts shoveling nachos robotically into a paper bowl, movements curt and quick. It covers the chips with beef - it smells like real, good ground beef, which is a pleasant surprise - and drowns it all in melted cheese.

The cheese looks a bit like plastic, but that's fine. It's far better than other, more mysterious substances he's come across in the past.

"Is there a tip jar?" Gregory asks curiously, accepting the somewhat greasy paper bowl with one hand.

The STAFF bots do not have movable faces, not like the Glamrocks, but he swears that this one is giving him a deadpan stare. And then it blinks, rolls its eyes, and shakes its head. Gregory laughs - somehow, there's the full spectrum of human emotion on display, communicated with only the eyes.

"Alright, alright. Good luck with the rest of your shift," he says, waving. The STAFF bot waves back half-heartedly, its head already drooping noticeably.

A kindred spirit, that one. Gregory shoves a chipful of beef and cheese in his mouth, savoring the salty flavor. "Where to next?" he asks Sun, shoving another chip in his mouth. The cheese definitely tastes fake, but he decides it's fine. Most cheese tastes fake anyway, regardless of how real it is. Or maybe he just goes to really shitty grocery stores.

At least he only does it because he's nearly broke. He doesn't know what the Pizzaplex's excuse is.

Sun taps his faceplate thoughtfully. "Hm... I hear the rides are quite impressive! If you have nowhere you'd like to go first, shall we check out the Ferris wheel? I hear that's a good place to start!"

Gregory turns so quickly he almost drops his chips, looking at Sun with wide eyes. A Ferris wheel? Inside the Pizzaplex? "A what?" he says weakly, wondering if he'd somehow heard wrong. Because he must have - Fazbear Entertainment might be the most ridiculous, money-wasting, miracle-working company, but surely its animatronics don't follow in its footsteps.

His doubts are proven wrong when Sun merely laughs, pointing to a structure nearby. Gregory looks, his head craning back until he's forced to admit that, yeah, that's certainly a Ferris wheel. Inside the Mega Pizzaplex.

He decides to keep eating and stop wasting energy on being surprised. It's an annoying balancing act, keeping his cane trapped under his elbow as he holds the bowl and eats, but he's managing. Maybe if he just tips the chips straight into his mouth...

...No, that sounds like a great way to drop half of his food, and the thought of all his steaming hot nachos going to waste makes his stomach feel like it's going to eat itself in retaliation.

He drags his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. Food is very distracting. "You didn't want to grab something to eat?" he asks curiously.

Sun bounces on his heels, the smile on his face growing a little wider. "Not just yet. I'd hate to get too messy this early in the night, after all! Cleaning up is only fun if you've enjoyed yourself first, you know."

"Cleaning is fun?" Gregory asks idly, but Sun only laughs again and tugs him toward the Ferris wheel.

It's a short wait, surprisingly - either the ride isn't popular, or they've arrived late enough that most of the bots who wanted to ride it have already done so. Sun chatters away about how dangerous carnival rides are; he talks about a lot of topics, from discussing the lack of seatbelts on the typically slower rides to reciting a surprisingly comprehensive list of rollercoaster failures that occurred in the past few years.

Sun doesn't go into great detail about the consequences of said failures, but Gregory can imagine that the casualties were pretty high. "Of course, this is why we follow all the rules when it comes to rollercoasters!" Sun says cheerfully, leaning down slightly to read a sign that's been posted by the start of the line. "Let's see - oh dear, there's a height requirement? That's hardly fair, whatever will..." Sun trails off, staring at something behind them.

Gregory turns to see two sign bots stacked on top of each other, defying gravity with duct tape and (probably) dark magic. They're wearing a trench coat and a hat, looking for all the world like two giggling children pretending to be an adult. They blink at him, bright yellow eyes moving in sync, and he decides to wave in response before turning right back around.

Nothing funny going on, nosirree. Costume party? What costume party? Just a normal bot that reaches the normal height requirements here!

"Hey, Sun, it's our turn," he says, distracting the Daycare Attendant from his staring contest.

Sun turns quickly, head rotating with a sharp click. "Yes, yes, my bad!"

The STAFF bot manning the ride chirps at them, waving them through the gate. It's not very large, with each bench capable of holding two people max, but Gregory sits down on one side and Sun curls up on the other, and they make it work. The Ferris wheel - holy fuck, they're on an indoor Ferris wheel, how the actual fuck is this working - moves smoothly, lifting them into the air.

"I've always wanted to ride one of these!" Sun says conversationally, peeking over the edge of their basket. "It's a popular topic among the children, especially when the fair season rolls around. They like to tell me about how it lights up at night and how seeing everything from above is a lot of fun! It certainly is, isn't it? My goodness, the gang certainly put a lot of work into the SpookFest this year!"

Gregory hums, tapping his pockets to make sure everything is still in place. It's nice that his work clothes are still under his hastily-worn costume - he doesn't have to worry about his stuff being in the office unattended. "What were the others like? In the past, I mean," he says, curious.

Sun shrugs. "I wouldn't know!" he says gaily. "Halloween is such a busy time after closing, you know, with children leaving their candy everywhere - oh, and they lose their things all the time, a lost wand here, a forgotten tiara there... I simply never have the time! Why, just today -"

"Wait, are you gonna be okay this year too, then?" Gregory asks, sitting up a little straighter. "I can come over and help after this, if you still have stuff to clean up." Never mind that he'll probably be exhausted by then; with all the sugar available, he's sure he can run on fumes until morning.

Sun falls quiet, staring at the crowds of bots below.

And then he says, voice as bright as ever, "That's very kind of you! But we'll be fine. I just don't leave the Daycare. Not much, really, not much at all! So." His voice cuts off in a strange hiss of static, and Sun curls in on himself a little more.

Then the animatronic's faceplate clicks, the pointed rays shifting sharply. "But really! It's fine!" Sun turns, his ever present smile facing Gregory.

Gregory knows that Sun and Moon were hiding away, fearful of their own destructive tendencies. He also knows that they're safe now - that they don't need to anymore.

He wonders if they really understand that.

"...We'll have to come next year too, then," he says finally, looking down too. It's an impressive sight, seeing the whole of the main hall from above like this. It's a far better sight than looking at Sun, who for some fucking reason looks so fucking small and sad right now.

Gregory closes his eyes. "Hey. Is Moon planning on coming out?"

There's a confused noise that emerges from Sun's voice box. "I don't think so? It's quite well-lit in here!" the animatronic says.

"Didn't you notice? There's a haunted house. And some other tents with games and sh - stuff inside." Gregory opens his eyes, looking at the ceiling. It's bright with artificial lighting, but... "Besides, they said something about a light show earlier. Pretty sure they'll have to turn down the lights for that."

"Oh! I see, that makes sense!" Sun says, looking strangely enthusiastic. Maybe Gregory misread him? But before he can continue that line of thought, Sun adds, "Moon was so grumpy when we found out it would be all lit up and bright! Now we can show off our outfit!"

Gregory laughs. "I didn't think he'd be happy with wearing orange clothes and sunflowers."

"Oh, no no, silly! Our clothes change colors when we do - it took quite a bit of time to learn how to make that happen, but now it's as easy as pie! Instant pie, anyway." Sun snickers. "Moon's costume is just like mine, but very blue. We can't wait for you to see it."

"Looking forward to it." The ride ends, and they hop off, walking back into the crowds. "What should we do next?"

Sun wags a finger. "We think you should pick next! You're done with your food, right? Pick something fun!"

Gregory dumps his paper bowl into a trash can, eyes running over what he can see. From above, he could see that there was a whole section dedicated to arcade games - apparently, someone had decided to bring the arcade here - mixed in with carnival games. Arcade cabinets, darts, a shooting gallery, pick-a-duck - all of it sounds like fun.

Man, what a party. Gregory checks the time on his watch, then shrugs. Night's still young.

"Let's try out some games," Gregory decides. "This way."

Chapter Text

Gregory yawns, his jaw cracking open for a second as his vision blurs.

It's a mistake, of course, because he sees Sun's head tilt in his direction. Of-fucking-course the Daycare Attendant, a literal robot programmed to take care of kids, picked up on his yawn immediately. It's not like he was being subtle, but Sun isn't even facing him right now.

Well, whatever. Gregory jogs forward, pointing at the games. "Hey, is there anything that you're good at?"

"I've never played any of these games before!" Sun declares. He eyes the pick-a-duck pool and the puddles surrounding it with some distaste, giving it a wide margin. "We've seen some of the arcade cabinets before - probably pulled that one from the Starcade, it's usually in the corner - but we've never played those, either. So anything is fine!"

Gregory leans on his cane, frowning thoughtfully. "Let's try the shooting gallery," he says finally, and they wander over there.

It's a pellet gun, the kind that shows up at an outdoor festival, and the STAFF not manning the tent gestures cheerfully at the colorful balloons tied up along the back wall. It's a simple reward system: the more balloons he pops, the bigger of a prize he gets to pick. The STAFF bot has bags of deflated and unpopped balloons behind it, but... Even the bots in Fazerblast have pretty poor aim - Gregory doubts this particular stall is going to be cleared out anytime soon.

Hm. Not unless he does something himself.

He lifts the pellet gun with both hands, cocks his head, and fires experimentally. It goes wide, ricocheting off the back wall with a pop.

Gregory adjusts his aim and fires again. This time, a green balloon goes with a satisfying snap, the torn rubber hanging limply from its string. A smirk curls his lips, and he shoots again.

Pop, pop, pop, pop - a whole row of balloons is decimated before he runs out of pellets. He immediately turns to the STAFF bot. "Can I have more?"

It shrugs, then takes the gun, reloads it, and hands it back in quick succession. This repeats a few more times until only three balloons are left, hanging sporadically from the wall. Gregory kind of wants to keep going, but he's out of pellets again and he's pretty sure he's about to overstay his welcome - if he hasn't already.

He tunes back in to realize that Sun is clapping. "Bravo! You did so well!" the animatronic exclaims, hands clasped tight together. The animatronic is practically beaming with excitement. "Oh, that was amazing! We didn't know you were so skilled at this sort of thing!"

Gregory considers the pellet gun in his hand. He should see about getting an actual long-ranged weapon - his hand-eye coordination is better than he'd thought.

Of course, getting an actual gun is a passing fantasy. But between his taser and his flashlight, it couldn't hurt to improve his repertoire of weapons a little. Even a laser gun would be nice, although he's not desperate enough to steal the one from Fazerblast - or maybe he is. Goodness knows this company won't care if a souvenir or two goes missing. Although, if it happens on his watch, that's kind of a different story.

...Sun and Moon can probably help him with that. Fuck knows what kind of illegal shit they get up to for fun in their free time.

Gregory hands the pellet gun back to the STAFF bot. "That was epic," he says, grinning. "So what can I choose from?" He eyes the prizes above his head. They're hung from the frame of the tent, displayed proudly in all shapes and colors. Stuffed animals, light-up swords, backpacks, and other odds and ends in little cellophane packets.

The STAFF bot waves one hand carelessly, chirping at a pace that's almost too fast for him to keep up with. Not that he understands any of it anyway.

Sun practically squeals. "Anything you like! A bunch of small or medium things, or a couple of large items are a-okay!" he translates, practically vibrating out of his casing. In fact, he looks like he's about to start doing cartwheels.

"You good?" Gregory asks warily.

Sun blinks, then rocks back on his heels. "Yes, I'm doing quite well. I just - oh, it's so wonderful to see others having fun, and you looked like you were having so much fun. And then you did so well! I'm so p - happy! Isn't it great when you do well? I want to give you a gold star, but I don't have any unfortunately, which is such a shame. You deserve one!"

"Ah." Gregory turns back to the prizes. Mystery solved - it's those caretaker instincts again, and there's not much to be done about those other than attempt to try and distract them. "Hey, do you want anything while we're here?"

But Sun isn't deterred so easily, now patting down his overalls for something. "Hm, no other stickers either... ah-ha!... Oh. Perhaps this isn't really..."

Gregory glances over to see a crinkly piece of wrapped candy in Sun's fingers. It's a bright yellow sundrop. He raises his eyebrows at Sun.

The animatronic catches the look and sputters. "I just happened to have one on me, that's all! I wasn't going to give it to you, I promise!"

"Well, why not?"

Sun pauses, then looks at him, pressing a hand over his chestplate. "You're the one who said they're much too caffeinated!" Sun says. "I would never give you anything that's not safe, and after that statement -"

"Trick or treat," Gregory says immediately, holding his hands out, palms facing upward.

Sun's eyes narrow slightly. And then he laughs. "Alright, alright. For a job well done." And he drops the candy in Gregory's outstretched hands.

Gregory grins and pockets the candy, turning back to the STAFF bot. "Sorry," he says automatically. He glances over the prizes again, feeling a little sheepish for taking too long, and a little triumphant for getting candy. Maybe he should grab a candy apple later - the things are so awkward to eat when they're whole, but it's worth the effort.

Eventually he points at a star-shaped backpack, a few keychains shaped like certain members of the band, and a large pillow that's shaped like a moon and sun in one. It feels like too much as he's stuffing it into the backpack and it barely fits - the pillow takes up the most room, being large enough to fit in his arms - but the STAFF bot is simply blowing up and replacing the balloons, so he figures it must be fine.

No sooner has he finished packing away his prizes than Sun plucks the backpack from his hands, strapping it on with a wide smile. "We'll help carry this for you!" Sun says cheerfully.

"Ah." Gregory eyes it for a moment, then decides it's fine. Plus, the backpack suits Sun strangely, being star-shaped and all. "Thanks. So where are we heading next?"

"Let's try an arcade game!" Sun says cheerfully, leading them onward.

They try out a few shoot-em-ups and dungeon crawlers, then move on to carnival games. Sun turns out to be pretty good with darts, and they both have fun beating the basketball tent. Hoops and insults are made, although admittedly Sun's insults are more like aggressive compliments.

After that, they head back to the rides, first trying out a teacup ride - Sun spins the the teacups so fucking quickly that Gregory briefly regrets eating so much earlier in the night - and then they end up skipping over the roller coasters entirely. Sun's little lecture, combined with the long and busy lines, makes the rollercoasters less-than-desirable. Besides, at that point he's still feeling a bit nauseated from the teacups.

They almost walk right past the bumper cars, but then Gregory hears a familiar voice whoop with pure, undiluted joy. The voice is familiar, but the tone sounds weird. When he glances over and sees Roxy, he realizes it's because he's never heard her sound so unrestrained and happy before.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's running over, grabbing the railings and staring with wide eyes. Because that's Roxanne Wolf, isn't it? She's got the same prideful smile on her face, muzzle all twisted up in a snarl - but her eyes are clear, and she's laughing. She's smashing her bumper car into other bots; the test driver bots and STAFF bots and sign bots are all beeping in excitement as they swerve and drift and slam into one another.

Something in him eases at the sight. He'd done something right, fixing her - and it should stick this time, no surprise purple eyes or anything. Gregory lets go of the railing with a sigh, turning around -

- and jumps when he finds Sun right behind him. Sun's bells are absent thanks to his costume, Gregory realizes belatedly. The animatronics quickly moves away, but his eyes are locked on the bumper cars. "Did you wanna play this game?" Sun asks curiously, rays spinning slowly.

"Nah," Gregory says. "I was just looking." He grabs Sun and leads the animatronic away from the area before Roxy can spot them. "I'm glad she's doing better. I mean, I dunno if she's still gonna be mean as f - fazzing much as she was before, but it's neat to see that she's... good now, I guess."

"Oh! You mean Roxy," Sun says, sounding surprised. "That's good to hear!" He smiles. "I - we're very thankful, you know. Everyone - for everything you've done."

"Yeah, well I'm not the one sorting through years of documents," Gregory says, making a face.

Sun, strangely, seems close to making a similar face. "Ah, yes. Well, it's no trouble, no trouble at all," the animatronic says lightly. He waves a hand. "Where shall we go next, then?"

"Haunted house is that way. Let's go," Gregory says, grinning.

Chapter Text

Gregory starts feeling a little sick again, as they approach the haunted house, but it's probably just lingering nausea from the tea cups or something. The sign bot considers them for a moment, blinking, and Sun tells Gregory that the last group went in a little too recently so they'll have to wait a bit. When they're let through, Gregory steps in and turns to find Moon beside him. As promised, the clothes have changed - orange has changed to blue, and the sunflowers look a little more like forget-me-nots. The scarf is still red though.

"Hello," Moon says, noticing his gaze. The animatronic makes an aborted gesture, shifting uncomfortably. "...What do you think of our outfit?"

"It suits you," Gregory says, examining it. He thinks the forget-me-nots are glowing slightly. And then he realizes that the stars on his cuffs are glowing too. "How long did this take you guys?"

Moon adjusts the straps on the backpack. "Not long," he says, shrugging. "Sun did most of the work. I picked the colors. Yours was... a group effort."

"Nice," Gregory says, and he means it.

The haunted house isn't anything special; put together by animatronics, just cardboard cutouts and lights and props. There's a fog machine, presumably, but it's hidden well enough that Gregory doesn't spot it during their walk. He recognizes some stuff from the spooky-themed attractions located in the emptier parts of the Pizzaplex, and some of the other stuff seems to be hand-made.

All in all, it's cute. Like a haunted house made for a school fair or something, only without any kids in costumes. All the costume-wearing bots are out and about enjoying themselves, which thankfully means there are no jump scares waiting here.

They walk in silence for awhile, and the silence is almost comfortable. Or it would be, if it didn't encourage Gregory's thoughts to wander. He thought about a lot of things; specifically, about secrets, and the ones he's keeping.

The thing about secrets is that they aren't easy to tell. Ideally, secrets aren't told at all, but they always are, somehow, in little jagged bits until the whole thing comes spilling out at an inconvenient time.

That's why Gregory prefers to keep them under lock and key. It's easier when he doesn't have people that he trusts on hand.

Unfortunately, he trusts the Daycare Attendant. Which means he's ended up showing them more than he meant to. They'd asked about his eyes, and he'd panicked - or rather, he'd avoided the question. They haven't asked since.

If anything, Sun's been overly cheerful as the night has passed. Maybe it's his way of making up for it - or maybe the animatronic is genuinely having fun.

He tries to distract himself by looking around. There's props everywhere, from dark drapes to spiderwebs. There are doors drawn with blood dripping down, and fog swirling on the floor. There's even fake windows, looking out on plastic graveyards and cardboard forests. It's quiet, but Moon doesn't seem to mind.

Gregory wouldn't either, if it didn't give him time to think about all the loose ends caused by his unraveling secrets.

He likes his secrets. Keeping them is what let him get the jump on that stupid bastard. Keeping them is how he made friends with some of the animatronics. Keeping secrets keeps him safe.

But he knows a lot about the animatronics now.

Gregory knows that Roxy is jealous and prideful, but also genuine. He knows that Chica is always hungry, and a little clumsy, but she's kind and incredibly hardworking. He knows that Monty can and will pick a fight, but that the alligator's stern nature allows him to be thoughtful at times. He knows that Sun and Moon are terrified of hurting people, but that they're willing to bend rules to help a friend. Even the STAFF bots, all of them, do their best - even if, in the end, they're often shoved aside in the grand scheme of things.

Secrets are best kept somewhere where they won't be found. But apparently, Gregory's been doing a shit job at keeping his own secrets.

"So, Moon," he says finally. He stops at a fake window, peering through. An illusion of a thousand gravestones on a moonlit hill greets him. "How's the research going?"

The animatronic pauses, head rotating a click. His hat - a constant, even with the now-blue sweater and the overalls with forget-me-nots - jingles softly. "Research?"

"Yeah. The documents and sh- stuff." Gregory turns to meet Moon's eyes. "Sun seemed a bit upset when I asked. Any news?"

"Ask Sun, then," Moon says, shrugging.

"I saw your blueprints. It's in the records. You share memory drives - and Sun seems determined to have fun tonight, so I didn't want to bother him. I was having fun, too..." Gregory taps the flashlight hooked to his belt, pressing his lips together. "Sorry, let me try again. Is everything okay? I'm worried."

Moon hums, a faint mechanical whir sounding from his exoskeleton. "Why? It's fine. Weren't we going to talk about this tomorrow?"

"That was the plan," Gregory agrees. "But... is nothing wrong, then?"

Moon shrugs again.

Not lying. Not saying 'no,' either.

Gregory has his own secrets. But the Daycare Attendant has already guessed at it, a little, pointing out his failures - and he thinks that he wants them to trust him enough to admit when they need help, too. He can guess all he likes, but if there's an actual issue - he wants to know.

Trust is a two-way street. Dad always told him that, back when they were struggling with the past together. Back when...

Gregory sighs. "Is Sun paying attention?"

He doesn't have to meet Moon's gaze this time. He can feel the Look that the Naptime Attendant is giving him. "Now he is," Moon says drily.

"I have something to tell you." The words stick in his throat. He closes his eyes and smiles, lips curving without any warmth. It makes him feel better anyway. "Sun asked me about, he asked - my eyes. About the purple."

"...Yes." There's concern in Moon's voice. "We were simply curious."

Gregory nods. "Did you want to know, too?"

Moon hesitates. "We would like to know, if you're comfortable with telling us. But we would never force -"

"It's ghosts."

A moment of silence. The air tastes cold; the fog seems to creep along the walls, as if agitated. But really, Gregory is probably the only one who's agitated.

He shouldn't be. The Daycare Attendant already knows that ghosts are real. He's not crazy.

"What?"

Gregory can feel his head ache. Just like the saying: speak of the devil, and so he shall appear. Except instead of the devil - because that bastard is in hell, now - it's just the voices in his head.

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Moon doesn't flinch, but the animatronic goes unnaturally still.

Gregory's willing to bet that if he had a mirror right now, he'd see a pair of eyes that haunt his nightmares, staring back at him. It's sickening to think about. He'd thought he'd had better control than this.

"Some of them left," he says, keeping his voice even. As though the words coming out of his mouth make any sort of sense. "They got the... They got what they wanted. But some are still in my... they're still..."

He feels them take control of his voice, the rasp of multiples speaking at once. "We're still here," they nearly snarl.

The sudden shift is severely unwelcome. It feels like pain blooms through his head, except instead of making things fuzzy, it feels like everything is suddenly sharper. In focus. Gregory wonders who's talking right now, but it doesn't really matter. "We have to make sure it's all gone, we have to get rid of everything he touched," they say, voices low and bitter. "He's not gone completely. She only left because all she wanted was him, because she wants him to suffer - but he left things behind and we can't just -"

"Gregory?"

Ah. They'd gone on a bit of a tangent, there. Gregory coughs lightly, shoving the ghosts away. They've said their piece. "Sorry," he mutters, moving away from the fake window. He turns and starts walking ahead, eager to progress through the haunted house.

He can hear Moon behind him, the soft jingle of bells indicating that the animatronic is following. Gregory sighs.

He hates telling secrets. He's so bad at it. They never come out cleanly, always tangled in other secrets until he finds out he's said more than he'd meant to. It's annoying - and it scares him.

"They're loud, sometimes," Gregory says.

His voice is sharp, and he takes a moment to pull it back. But he needs to finish the explanation. He needs to make sure the secret is told neatly - in its entirety. "That's when my eyes turn purple. It's... it's sort of like the virus. Sometimes I can't hear myself when they're too loud. So."

"Do you need help?"

Gregory startles at that, almost tripping over his own feet. The cane comes down with a thud as he catches himself.

"No, no I'm fine," Gregory says quickly, avoiding Moon's gaze. Bitterness and exhaustion swell in him, but he swallows it down. "It's not that bad, I was just... You were curious. So I told you."

Trust. It's stupid, isn't it? Baring his heart like this is the most foolish thing to do. He'll regret this later - he's already regretting it now.

A silicone hand pats his shoulder. Gregory's vision blurs, and he has to force himself not to flinch.

It's just Moon.

The ghosts in his head howl with laughter at that. Because it's just Moon, is it? Just like before. Just like Fred... Just like Circus Baby and Chica and all the others.

Gregory meets Moon's eyes. The animatronic's faceplate doesn't emote well enough for him to tell what he's thinking right now, but if he had to guess - probably confused. Curious. Maybe even worried. Moon's still in the same costume, all soft outlines and loose fabric. He almost doesn't look like a Freddy Fazbear animatronic, this way.

Gregory forces himself to relax. He takes another deep breath, wrestling his emotions back into something neat and tidy. Or, if not tidy, then at least manageable.

A near-breakdown in a haunted house. How embarrassing.

"Thank you," Moon says.

Gregory pauses. The words were delivered in a steady, measured tone. He meets Moon's gaze.

Moon's smile seems to soften. "Sun says thank you, too. For trusting us."

Right. That's that, then.

Gregory turns away. It feels awkward to talk about the research, now, but - that was the whole point. Trust is give-and-take, and he's given more than his fair share. "So there's nothing to worry about with the documents?" he asks. It's abrupt and sudden, an obvious change in topics. He'll stop asking after this. He just wants to know.

Moon's voice box releases a staticky sigh. "Nothing much, there's just more than we expected."

"Oh?"

Moon hesitates, and Gregory notices a dim light in the distance. It's the exit; he stops, not wanting to interrupt Moon.

"The company has been stockpiling experimental endoskeletons for nearly fifteen years now, without actually using any of them," Moon says, finally. "They're called New Generation Type endoskeletons, or NGT endoskeletons for short. There are several version types, all primed to perform different tasks. It's... excessive."

It's way more than excessive. "They spent a shit-ton of money and have let it rot ever since," Gregory summarizes.

He can hear a smirk in Moon's voice. "Exactly."

Endoskeletons... That sounds familiar, for some reason. Gregory tries to remember, as he stares at the exit sitting just out of reach.

And then, of course, he doesn't have to try for very long. The ghosts are all to eager to remind him of those days when he almost died. All too eager to find the memories that are better labeled 'nightmares' and bring them back to the surface of his mind.

"The utility tunnels," he says.

And then he's moving.

He doesn't want Moon to ask, or for Sun to think about what he's just said. "Lets say good-bye to Chica," Gregory says instead, pushing his way past the exit door.

He turns, watching Moon pause just before the light. "Come on," Gregory urges him. "I wanna say good-bye to her before we go."

"Go where?"

"The night is almost over. I gotta go home and sleep." A lie, of course - he does need sleep, but he doubts he'll get much of it. And it's the best way to get the Naptime Attendant to agree. To make this conversation end, at least for tonight.

Moon's eyes curve slightly - probably in amusement. He's an animatronic, after all, and the Daycare Attendant deals with kids all the time. A bluff like this must be easy to see through. But Moon just nods and steps out, warm colors and sun rays spinning into place until Sun is standing there, smiling.

"Shall we go?" Sun says cheerfully, no hint of the serious conversation that just occurred present in his demeanor. Gregory finds himself grateful for that.

He nods and heads for the stage. He'll probably have to finish the conversation later, tie up loose ends - there never seems to be an end in sight when it comes to feelings... surely he'll reach it eventually - but for now, he simply shoves those thoughts away and looks for Chica. She's bright yellow tonight, and he spots a flash of yellow on the stage.

There she is - is what he thinks for a moment. But then he realizes that the shape is all wrong. Tall, but thick around the chest. And the hat -

A small purple hat on a yellow bear.

Abruptly, Gregory is certain that there is a purple bow tie on that bear's chest. He doesn't know why - or he does, but he refuses to believe it. Because it's not... This isn't the diner. This isn't the place of his nightmares, the place where he died.

He grits his teeth. Gregory isn't the dead one, they are. He has to remind himself of that, everything around him going quiet, but then the bear turns and he spots it - the purple bow tie.

He forgets himself for a second. He doesn't know who's speaking when his mouth opens, almost choking on the fear that follows. Because this isn't real.

This can't be real.

"Fredbear?"

Chapter Text

The story of Pandora's box is a little complicated, but the ending is very simple.

Pandora opens the box and releases all the evils into the world, with only hope remaining within. It was the gods' way of punishing humanity for possessing fire.

The execution of the punishment was rather strange, though.

The gods specifically designed Pandora - a human woman, with a life of her own - as a trap. She was designed to be so alluring that the warnings of Prometheus were spoken in vain. A true gift from the gods; impossible to ignore, and impossible to resist.

On the day William Afton began to build his animatronics, or perhaps even before that, something like evil was released into the world.

His creations were traps dressed up as technological marvels. Monsters built from metal and plastic.

The man was dabbling in souls and death - a far worse crime than giving fire to humanity. One of the very first animatronics was Fredbear, a splendid golden bear dressed in sparse but neat attire. And the man's own children played the part of an unwitting Pandora.

A few souls were lost. And then, many more followed, some by the hands of that man - but many others were killed by the monsters he made.

Monsters born from the souls of his victims.

Ghosts are unnatural things. They die unhappy and linger through hatred and pain. There's little room for the person they used to be.

Gregory knows that all too well. He's had to live with the lot of them in his head, after all - they gave him everything they have, but with little consideration or coherency. They wanted him to live, so they showed him what it was like to die. They wanted the darkness to disappear, so they clamored and cursed until he found himself at the Pizzaplex.

What a mistake that was.

"Fredbear?" his voice says, but it's not his anymore. No, he's watching from somewhere else, unable to even feel his fingertips as his body moves closer to the hulking silhouette of the monster. Perhaps it's a kindness. This way, if he dies, he won't be in as much pain.

The bear turns and smiles. It's a familiar sight - a purple top hat and bow fixed to the bright yellow exoskeleton.

Gregory tries to force a smile in return. It doesn't feel like it comes out right.

His hand twitches toward the taser hooked to his belt. At least he has it. At least he isn't defenseless this time.

Wait, no. He's never met Fredbear in his life.

Although it's hard to remember that with the ghosts telling him otherwise.

Gregory grits his teeth. "Is it you?" he asks bluntly, standing as straight and as tall as he can manage. He's gripping the cane so hard he swears he can feel his bones creaking from the pressure.

It is, it is - or so scream the voices in his head. They're certain it's him. It's their friend, their murderer, their puppet, their nightmare. It's him.

Gregory's vision blurs a little, but he can hear the bear's voice clearly enough. Every word rings loudly in his ears as the beat says, "I am surprised you were able to recognize me! No one else has just yet. Perhaps my appearance is just too old for the current times?"

There's laughter now. Bitter, hateful laughter echoing throughout his mind.

The voices are laughing at everything and nothing, now. See? It never ends. Look! It's the monster, brought back from the depths of history. They have to make sure it's all gone, they have to get rid of everything, and here it is: proof that they're not done.

Fredbear's jaw is incredibly strong. They remember what it felt like to when it crushed their skull.

"It's a little outdated, yeah," his voice says. It's him, he's the one talking - probably. He smiles slightly, although he's sure the expression is coming out wrong. "A bit in bad taste, too."

"Oh? Truly? Well... It is a matter of personal preference, I suppose. Although with how quickly you recognized me, I would have thought that you are a fan of the franchise!"

A fan of the franchise?

He can't believe his ears.

"Hah... Haha... Is that how it looks?" Almost unconsciously, he finds himself taking another step forward. "Actually, we know a lot about this place. Did you know? We've been here before. Do you remember?"

The bear tilts his head. "I am sorry, but I do not know what you are talking about."

"You don't?" He steps forward again, focusing on the bear. Fredbear, as always, is golden - it's hard to see anything else when he's around. If he pried open that exoskeleton, would there be blood inside? "What about me? Do you remember me?"

"You are the security guard who works here. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not that!" He rips his mask off, glaring at the bear animatronic. "Me! Do you remember me?"

"You are Gregory," Fredbear says. He sounds odd now; almost concerned. His ear flicks, causing light to glint off of the earring. "I am not sure what else you want me to say."

Gregory laughs helplessly. Really? Is Fredbear going to play dumb right up until the end? Is he deriving some sort of sick pleasure from this?

"Of course he is."

"Fredbear is mean."

Gregory turns to see two children behind him. They're made of smoke and shadow - the ghosts in his head, finally taking form. He knows these two well.

"Evan," he says, his voice dull. "Elizabeth."

The two children smile, their teeth peeking out between the darkness. "We told you," they say, giggling. "He left behind his darkness, see? Here's proof. We need to get rid of it all, now, before it all goes bad again! We have to!"

Gregory shakes his head. "No, there... others will get caught up in it. We can't do that."

"Why not? All animatronics are monsters," the children say. They press in close, their cold hands grasping at his. "They're monsters. We have to get rid of them, we have to."

And how easy would it be? A taser to the neck, a press of a button, a crowbar to the face - there are many ways to dismantle an animatronic. They've learned, since they first died. They've taught him everything they know, because a victim who dies without knowing what's going on, without being able to fight back - it's the worst kind of death.

If he doesn't want to die, shouldn't he act first? Shouldn't he take the first step? The children tug at him, taking him forward.

It's rather flat. The only significant thing about it are the two locks hanging from the lid, each colored a dull yellow.

He draws close and examines one of them. It's just a simple key lock.

"You're asking me to open this?" Gregory mutters.

"Maybe," one says - and Gregory nearly hits the table in his haste to face them. The boy is right behind him, eyes glinting with amusement. Jackass. The damned child probably snuck up on him on purpose.

The child points at the box. "You need everything you can get. You need to remember. It's important to remember, just in case it helps you live."

"Hope stays in the box," the other says. "But when it opens, all the evils are released."

"The two of you are giving me some mixed signals here," Gregory snaps. "What's this fucking box even for, anyway? And for that matter, where the fuck am I?"

"Will you open it?" the ghosts ask again.

Gregory rolls his eyes. "It wouldn't be that hard," he mutters, turning back to the box. He sticks his hand in his pocket, pulling out a ring of keys. Normally, as a security guard, he's usually carrying at least five or six keys at a time.

This time, there's only two keys on the ring, and they're both exactly the same. He fits one into a lock, and turns it easily. The lock clicks open, and he removes it from the box.

He's removing the second lock when he hesitates.

"Why do you want me to open this?"

The ghosts tighten their grip on his arms. "It's important," they insist.

Gregory frowns. "What's inside?"

"It's me."

"What?"

One of the children stamps their foot. "Open it already!" the ghost yells, cold fingers digging into his skin. Gregory hisses and yanks his hands away, letting go of the loosely hanging lock. "You're definitely Evan," he growls, stepping away from the box. "You didn't answer me earlier. Where the hell am I?"

"Are you scared?" the other whispers.

He flinched away from the voice, on edge. The other ghost is still smiling. "Are you scared?" it asks again.

Gregory's hands close around the taser on his belt. "Fuck off."

"That won't hurt me," the ghost says smugly. "I'm already dead, stupid."

Gregory feels a cold hand grab his wrist once more. The first ghost had snuck up on him - not exactly hard to do when the two are ganging up on him at once. Gregory winces at the chill.

"Open the box," the ghost demands. Its voice is loud, now, piercing into Gregory's ears. "Open it!"

"Shut up!"

"You have to!" the ghosts yell. "You can't forget! You might die if you forget anything, so you can't! You have to remember!"

Gregory wrenches away, stumbling backwards. "Your memories are a curse," he snarls. "You're the reason I couldn't stay away from this fucking franchise! You're the reason I can barely sleep at night! You're the reason I know what it feels like to die a hundred different ways, in painstaking detail - because you're the reason I remember your deaths as if they were my own!"

"We're the reason you're still alive!" the kids yell back. "There are still monsters out there. They're still out there, and you can't forget. You can't die. You can't, you can't -"

"Shut up! We already took care of them! The rest of your buddies already dragged William Afton back to hell, so I don't know why you're even still here!"

The kids start screaming the second he mentions their father's name. Gregory slaps his hands over his ears, but it hardly helps block out the crescendo of noise. He swears his vision is flickering. Fuck, fuck, fuck, why won't they just shut up?!

Abruptly, he reaches out and yanks the lock off the box, throwing the lid wide open.

The screaming stops.

"There! It's open," Gregory says, his voice sounding strange in the sudden silence. "Now leave me alone."

The two kids stand still, shadows melting away from their figures. One is a boy whose head seems to be dripping a dark liquid. The other is a girl with two red ponytails and a hole in her stomach.

They crowd the box, peering inside. "Look," the girl says excitedly. "Look! It's you!"

"It's me!" the boy says back, his voice hushed.

Gregory starts slowly walking backwards, watching the two children fawn over whatever's inside the box. There's nothing particularly concerning about the scene - there could just be toys in there, for all he knows. Or maybe a mirror.

But something doesn't feel right.

"Where are you going?"

"Fucking hell!" Gregory yelps, spinning to see the girl standing behind him. "You were just over -"

"You can't go."

"I can go wherever the fuck I want, you little menace!"

"But Fredbear is there," the boy says. He's close again, the shadows writhing along his skin. "So you can't?"

Gregory frowns. "Fredbear? That's the old mascot, why would... why would he..."

"You can't."

"Where am I?"

The two children tilt their heads in unison. The box behind them rattles, and they both giggle at the sound. "We have to get rid of everything," they tell him.

"That doesn't answer my fucking question."

"It's too late! It's too late! If you won't kill time all, then we'll do it for you!" Their voices are rising again, layered and echoing far more than two children's words should. "Don't worry. You'll live. We won't let you die. We just have to kill them."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Gregory demands, reaching out.

Everything vanishes before he can touch either ghost, leaving him to stumble in darkness. The voices just laugh at him as he spins, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He can't see anything, even though he swears there was a box just here.

...A box? Come to think of it, where did the box even come from? Wasn't he just at... at...

Gregory shakes his head. He was at work... No, he was talking to Fredbear.

Right?

Even though it's weird that he was talking to a mascot that should have been long discontinued... Why was he there in the first place?... No, it must have been Fredbear - the ghosts recognized him, and they would know better than anyone what Fredbear looks like.

Wouldn't they? Unless they were mistaken... about the appearance...

Gregory presses his face into his hands. He can feel his thoughts spinning in all directions. Everything feels numb, from his fingertips to his feet. Rather abruptly, he sits down, breathing slowly.

"Okay, so I wasn't at work," he mumbles out loud. "I was at a party..." He looks down at himself, flexing his gloved hands. "...A costume party..."

Fredbear doesn't wear earrings. But Glamrock Freddy does.

"...I'm so stupid," Gregory groans, burying his face in his hands once more. "Fuck. Fuck! I let them get me all worked up, and for what? To make a fool of myself?"

He gives himself another moment to mope before pulling himself back to his feet. Seriously, where is he?

It takes him a few minutes of walking to realize that he's literally trapped in his own mind. He figures it out after he trips over his own feet and hits the ground, only to not feel any pain from the impact. Almost like he's dreaming.

He paces for a bit, trying to come to terms with this, when he nearly jumps as his surroundings turn bright for a moment.

"...can ask Fredbear to come back some other time!" he hears Sun say, and then everything fades away again.

Gregory shakes his head. "Hey! Let me out!" he yells. Faintly, he can hear the ghosts somewhere in the distance. They're probably saying all kinds of things to Freddy, but... "You're wrong! It's not him!"

Except it must be, because -

"It's not! It's just a costume! So let me out before I make you!"

He finds himself looking at Sun.

"...ory?" the animatronic says.

Gregory hurriedly opens his mouth. "Sun, it's not-"

And then it's dark again.

"Just because I won't agree to murder?" Gregory yells. "You're victims too! You should know what it's like to be killed when you don't deserve it!"

The ghosts won't listen. Of course not. They never have.

Gregory grabs his taser. "Last chance," he snarls, letting it flicker to life. "Wanna see what happens when I kill myself in my own head? I bet I'll take you all down with me."

He has no intention of doing that, but the ghosts know he would - or maybe they're too busy with Fredbear to consider that he's bluffing. The darkness fades away again.

He sees Sun again. "I see Chica," the animatronic is saying. "Let's -"

Gregory grabs the sundrop from his pockets and pops it into his mouth, dry-swallowing it like a pill. "Let's go play with the monsters down below," he croons, stalking toward the doors that he knows will lead to a hallway with an entrance to the utility tunnels.

The voices in his head are angry, riled up and begging to go back to the stage. They were distracted by Sun, they claim. They'll be quicker about it this time.

"That was Freddy in a costume, idiots," Gregory hisses. He doesn't care how crazy he looks right now, he needs the ghosts to back off before they pull the whole 'trapping him in his own mind' crap again. "It's not Fredbear, so let it go. There's actual problems to deal with."

But Freddy isn't innocent either, the voices remind him. They shove memory after memory at him, making him stumble from the force of it. After all, Freddy is the one who-

"Shut up. That was - that was ages ago. I don't care anymore."

"Don't care about what?"

"He tore my stomach open! Okay?! But that's fine, Freddy wasn't my friend after all. It happens! At least I didn't die!" Gregory nearly snarls, throwing the doors to the utility tunnels wide open. Cool air brushes his face, and he realizes the voices in his head are strangely silent.

He hears a mechanical whir from behind him. Gregory's heart sinks.

Sun says, "Gregory, we said we'd leave this for tomorrow, didn't we? You should go home and rest. You don't seem well."

"I'm fine," he says, knowing that Sun can hear the lie in his words.

"Please. Moon and I can protect you. If you... If you are not safe, we can fix that."

Gregory grits his teeth. "I'm fine," he snaps, taking a step into the tunnels.

A silicone-coated hand curls around his wrist, forcing him to stop. "Please."

"Will you really stop me?" Gregory asks, staring at the endless stretch of concrete before him. The cardboard boxes and metal shelves that line the tunnel are dusty - he hasn't been down here for awhile, and neither have many bots. "It's not that bad, you know. I'm just going to look around."

"You're lying. I heard you say that you're going to deal with the problem - you're talking about the NGT endoskeletons, aren't you?" Sun says, his tone low but firm. "You can't. You're in no shape to -"

Gregory laughs, feeling the ghosts press against his mind. His headache would've been back by now if it wasn't for the sundrop - or maybe it's back, but he can't quite register it due to all the chaos in his head. "It's just this! I just have to get rid of this, and it'll be over! So let me go!"

"Are you Gregory?"

"What?"

Sun's grip tightens - not quite enough to bruise, but certainly enough to hurt. "Earlier, something was wrong. And right now, something is still wrong. You told us about the ghosts. We know that Gregory is careful, and also kind. Gregory is a little reckless, but only with his own health. Why would you do this, now, when you can wait another day? Everyone is willing to help."

Gregory hesitates. "But..."

"You can sleep, and come back," Sun presses. "We can take care of everything until you return. It will be alright. All of us can make preparations to clean out the tunnels. Chica, Roxy, Monty, and Freddy will also help -"

The voices shriek with laughter. Freddy? Freddy will help?

They've had enough of Freddy's help.

Gregory laughs weakly to himself, unconsciously echoing the ghosts. Of course. Of course - Sun isn't really on his side either. He wants to drag this out, to prolong it, to make him suffer by seeing Freddy again.

Gregory closes his eyes, and reopens them to darkness. "I don't know why I even bothered," he whispers to the dark cavern of his mind.

Chapter Text

Gregory can't find his keys.

It's such a small thing, but it's driving him mad. His pockets are completely empty, even though he usually at least has something in them. But no, his name tag, his card, his keys - there's nothing.

"Goddamnit," he mutters, patting down his pants. Even his flashlight is missing - the only thing he has are the work clothes on his back and the taser on his belt.

A real big help, that will be.

Gregory sighs, leaning back in his chair. The clock's about to hit midnight - his shift will start soon.

He blinks.

Wait, that's not right.

He sits upright, looking around. For some reason, everything is a little hard to look at, as though it's all in his peripheral. The only thing he can really focus on is the monitor in front of him.

It's off, though. Gregory leans forward to turn it on, but as he does so, he notices that his reflection isn't visible.

That's... odd.

He presses the button to turn it on, but what appears isn't any camera feeds or a desktop but instead the title screen of a video game. There's a pixelated yellow bar and a plain black background. The title is 'Princess Quest.'

Underneath, in smaller font, are the words 'working title.'

"Huh. Okay then," he mutters, using the mouse to try and navigate the menu. There's only two options: 'Continue' and 'Tutorial.'

Gregory selects the second option, which opens up a small video with the princess sprite going through an idle animation and nothing else.

Words begin to scroll slowly across the screen as the princess begins to wave.

Welcome to Princess Quest!

Your goal is to find the •\+*^£ and escape the maze! Be sure ¥*[% !95; get cau)$5 by the @£|*!

Use the WASD keys to move, and the mouse to interact with or switch between items.

do not touch the sun

Be careful when in a dark place! Anything could come out of the shadows

bunnies a

re the enemy

Light the torches to find your way. Be careful when in a dark place! Anything could come out of the shadows.

Good luck, $]+^!

Gregory makes a face. "Glitched text... love that for a game," he says out loud, watching the screen fade to black. His reflection still isn't there, but whatever. He's too tired to care right now.

When the title screen reappears, he selects 'Continue' this time. A cheerful jingle plays, and the princess on the screen waves her arms.

The screen transitions into a small room. There's a door, but when Gregory moves the sprite to it, purple text appears.

[ iT is locked. ]

"Well, okay then." He moves the sprite around the room, but it's empty. Aside from the door, there's only two windows, a carpet, and stone walls. It's utterly unremarkable and plain.

He moves the sprite to the door again.

[ yOu cannot get out. ]

"Oh, do I have to keep trying the door to get out?" he wonders aloud. He makes the sprite interact with the door again.

[ sTay here. ]

[ dOn't leave. ]

[ tHe door is locked. ]

[ yOu don't have a key. ]

[ wE won't give it to you. ]

Gregory sighs. "Only so many times I can shake a doorknob before I get bored," he mutters, clicking on the door again. "Come on already."

A beat passes, and then a line of white text appears.

< The door opens. >

The pixel door creaks ominously open. Gregory moves the sprite to it, and the screen goes black.

A new room appears.

This one looks like a bedroom. The sprite enters from the left. There's a bed in the middle, and another door on the far side. There's also some cabinets and a closet door.

Gregory moves the sprite to check the closet.

[ yOu shouldn't open that. ]

He tries it again.

[ yOu shouldn't open that. ]

"...A secret for later?" Gregory wonders. He checks the cabinets and the bed, but only obtains what the game calls [ oUr best friend ] for his trouble.

It's an item shaped like a yellow teddy bear. He doesn't like the way it looks - he quickly switches it out so that the princess sprite's hands are holding a lantern instead.

The next room is just a hallway, but unlike the bedroom, it reminds him of a castle hallway with a brick floor and a red carpet. There's only two options - up or down. Both paths end in darkness, so he figures they both must lead to new areas.

"...up."

Gregory blinks, lifting his head. He hadn't realized how absorbed he was in the game - he'd completely forgotten about his surroundings.

"Hello?" he says, leaning back in his chair. The office feels easier to look around - maybe the lights are on the fritz? - but he doesn't see anyone.

Gregory moves to get out of the chair, but then he hesitates.

It would probably just be a waste of time, he reasons. No one should be around.

He turns back to the game, only to find purple text saying: [ aRe you bored? Don't leave. ]

"Is it going to say that every time I let the game remain idle?"

Gregory moves the sprite and the text disappears. He picks a direction at random, exiting the hallway and entering... another hallway.

"Oh, the graphics are repeating - whoa!"

Gregory watches as the princess sprite falls down a hole in the ground he hadn't noticed until he'd walked right over it. The edges of it look like it's crumbling.

The princess respawns next to the hole, and Gregory sighs in relief. "Alright, carefully this time," he says, moving the princess around the hole.

"Stop!"

Gregory jumps, and his hand jerks, sending the princess back in the hole. He swears. "Sorry," he says to the princess sprite, moving her away from the hole.

Then he stands and crosses his arms, facing the doorway. Only to realize that there are actually two doorways to the office. He opts to press himself to the back of the office and glare at both doorways at once.

"Alright, who the fuck is messing with me?" he demands. "I heard you clearly that time."

There's no answer.

Gregory sighs and reaches for his flashlight, only to remember it's not there. He sighs again and presses the button to shut both doors.

They slam down violently - and much more loudly than he was expecting.

"Uh... That seems like overkill." He shakes his head and sits back down, moving the sprite across the new area.

He passed through a few more rooms - all mismatched in themes, from a kitchen belonging to a suburban household, to a room with balloons and plastic tables, and to even a castle's throne room - but not interacting with very much.

"Haven't even found any torches to light," Gregory mutters. He's collected a few things from each room, but none of them seem useful. All that's in his inventory is a teddy bear, a small key, two books, and a fishing rod.

< You can hear the sounds of crashing from the west &*%$. >

Glitched text again? At least west is an easy enough direction - all Gregory has to do is keep going left until he reaches whatever the game wants him to find.

He walks until he reaches the throne room. When the room loads in, two things are immediately apparent: the southern wall is broken down and surrounded by rubble, and there's a figure in the corner that wasn't there before.

Gregory nudges the princess sprite close to the figure, curious, but then text appears in the middle of the screen, blocking his view.

[ sTay away from the sun. ]

He frowns. The figure doesn't even look like a sun - just a plain silhouette that could be any generic NPC.

He moves the sprite closer.

[ dO not touch. ]

Gregory moves the sprite right next to the figure and tries to interact with it, curious about what will happen. The entire screen flickers, and the NPC turns into a boy with a red and blue striped shirt. He's also wearing a hat with a similar pattern.

White text appears at the bottom of the screen.

< CanS yoAu fVEind my baMlloonEs? >

"Can I find your balloons? Yes. Can I read this easily? No," Gregory says, moving the princess sprite to the broken-down wall.

The screen transitions to word finder. The blank spaces are empty, but there are only seven, so at least he knows how many words he needs to find.

Gregory tries 'A' first, but of course, that doesn't work.

It takes him a moment, but then the game dings cheerfully as he crosses out VALOR.

In a few minutes, he also finds the following words: AMBITION, NECESSARY, ESCAPE, SACRIFICE, SANITY, and AVARICE.

The games chimes when all the words are discovered, and the throne room reappears with the broken-down wall now fixed again. He checks his inventory to find an item called < @8%#*+ Boy's Balloons > added to his repertoire. "Oh, is it talking about Balloon Boy?"

He has the princess hold the item - it looks like a small bunch of different colored balloons - and interacts with the NPC again.

< Thank you! We$come to B#%on World! >

The NPC disappears, and in its place is a new door.

"Don't go through that."

Gregory spins around to see a small girl standing behind him. "Fucking - where did you come from?!" he yells, scrambling to his feet.

"You can't leave us," the girl insists. "Don't go. You can't be bored yet."

"For the record, I'm not bored, I'm playing a game - wait, nevermind that, where did you come from?"

The girl frowns. "Since forever."

"I think I'd notice if you were here this whole time," Gregory says sharply.

"Even if you didn't want to?"

"I literally walked through that spot earlier," Gregory says. "Seriously. The doors are even closed - wait." He turns, realizing that the doors to the office are now open. But there's no way he would've missed them opening, not with how loud they were while closing.

The girl shrugs. "My little brother started to hog all the fun, so I figured I'd come here and play with you. I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere. I work here. You, on the other hand -"

The girl vanishes.

"...What the fuck," Gregory says. "What the fuck was that. How did she - am I seeing things?"

He looks back at the screen.

< Welcome to Balloon World! >

"...Haha... And now the game text is just changing on its own. Is this really a retro game? Seems more like a modern copy." He moves back to his seat and sits down. Ghosts can't hurt you if you don't look at them... probably.

Going through the new doorway starts off a new type of gameplay, reminding him of a little bit of Flappy Bird. The princess sprite is holding onto a bunch of balloons, and he has to navigate between the obstacles and balloons to control his movement.

The background is a brightly colored forest with a smiling sun in the background.

Gregory briefly considers trying to get his character to touch it, just to be contrary, but his character stays on the left of the screen and the sun stays on the right, so he discards the idea.

It's when the sprite floats through a glitched part of the screen that things suddenly change.

The sky goes dark, and the sun turns an ominous-looking red. It's smile doesn't change, but now the atmosphere feels sinister. Gregory can feels his heart pounding as he struggles to keep the sprite from touching any obstacles.

And then the sprite suddenly starts floating across the screen on its own as the sun grows to fill the entire sky.

[ gEt out. ]

Gregory ignores the purple text, watching the cutscene, but then it starts to multiply across the screen.

[ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ] [ gEt out. ]

And then it vanishes, replaced by yellow text.

{ Where are you? }

"This game's dialogue is super unhelpful," Gregory mutters, dodging a stray tree branch. He shivers suddenly, feeling cold.

He pauses the game - was that always possible?... Eh, he probably just didn't notice it earlier - and glances around the office, looking for a jacket. There's usually a spare lying around somewhere, although he doesn't see one now.

Gregory stands and rifles through the lockers, wondering if there's anything here. He finds a teddy bear, a small key, two books, and a fishing rod - but no jacket.

He's about to give up when he notices a small box pushed in a corner labeled Lost-and-Found.

Inside, he finds a soft jacket with yellow and blue. There's clouds and stars decorating the exterior. "This looks familiar," he murmurs, examining it closely, "Isn't this mine?"

There's a sudden static noise from the computer, prompting him to look at the screen.

The purple text is back, telling him to leave. It's even covering the button that lets him resume the game.

Gregory shrugs on the jacket and returns to his seat, trying to click past the wall of text. This time, though, nothing responds. If anything, the text is starting to glitch slightly, with variant messages appearing on top of the already-existing words.

[ wHy are you chasing the sun? ]

[ cOme back. ]

[ gEt out of here. ]

[ sTay with us. }

[ yOu can't trust them. We've had enough of Freddy's help. ]

Gregory rereads that last one, just before the text multiplies so much that the screen is just covered in purple. It's such a vivid color that his eyes hurt from looking at it.

"What does Freddy have to do with anything?" he demands. And then he sighs. "Great, I'm talking to a game."

He reaches behind the monitor and presses the power button.

Nothing changes.

"Uh. Hello?" He tries pressing it a few more times, but nothing responds. Gregory bends over to make sure he's pressing the right button, but he is - the screen is just frozen, apparently. "I guess that's what I get for playing a clearly glitchy game..."

A screech comes from the monitor speakers, making Gregory jump. And then the yellow princess sprite appears on the purple background, with white text below her.

< You hear a crash from the east. >

"What?"

Gregory hears a sudden clatter from the right. He turns toward the darkened doorway, frowning. "Hey," he says, stepping through the doorway, "If you're messing around again -"

His sentence comes to an abrupt stop as he sees the room he's just stepped into.

It's a storage room with huge containers of gasoline. Looking down, he realizes that he's now wearing yellow gloves, and that they're smeared with something black.

Gregory steps back into the office.

"Nope. Not dealing with that," he says out loud. He looks back at the screen.

The princess is gone, and so is the purple. It's just a black screen with yellow text.

{ Please don't do this. }

{ Gregory? }

{ Please come back. }

Gregory frowns. "Um. I don't understand."

< Go right. >

"There's no sprite on the screen."

< Go. >

"I can't believe a game is trying to tell me what to do."

< Sun and Moon are trying to save you. Please go to them. >

Gregory shakes his head. "Who are you talking... about..." He jerks away from the computer screen, stumbling backwards. "Wait. Wait, I was - I wasn't supposed to - where am I?"

He turns, looking at the office around him. It looks unnaturally bare, suddenly. The details vanish when he looks closely, and the normal atmosphere feels suddenly hazy and dreamlike.

"Where am I?" Gregory demands.

The doors suddenly shut, and the girl reappears. "You're at work," she says.

He eyes her with suspicion. "...Elizabeth? What are you... Where is this?"

"Your office."

"I know I'm not in my office. This is in my head, isn't it? I just... lost track of that."

"Isn't the game interesting? You can't be bored of us already."

"Let me out."

The girl giggles. "You're the one who locked yourself in," she says cheerfully. Gregory reaches out, but she disappears again before he can touch her.

He looks at the doors. Now there's chains and padlocks wrapped over them, and not a single button or door handle in sight.

"Okay. Okay, uh. Obviously I have to get out here," he says to himself, moving to one of the padlocks and examining it. "Um. I'm pretty sure I don't have any bolt cutters."

He goes back to the lockers, and retrieves the small key he'd found earlier. It fits into the padlock perfectly, although it breaks after he turns it too hard.

"Fuck. Hopefully I don't need that later."

Gregory removes the padlock and the chains. The door remains firmly shut.

The computer chimes. He turns to look at it.

< Find Sun. >

"I'd love to," he says sarcastically. "Just as soon as I can get out of here. Kind of run into a problem, in case you haven't noticed."

The text changes, and the princess sprite appears onscreen.

< Reach out. >

"There is a huge metal door in the way," he snaps.

< This is your head. Just open it back up. >

"It's not that easy!"

< You have to. >

Gregory swears and digs through the lockers again, hoping to find something else he can use. All he finds is the teddy bear, two books, and the fishing rod.

The teddy bear creeps him out. He tosses it in the Lost-and-Found and turns to the other objects.

The fishing rod is clearly useless. He tries to stick it under the metal door, but it's too flimsy. The books are just storybooks; one is about Greek myths, and the other is about Frankenstein. Neither are very helpful.

Gregory goes back to the computer. "I don't suppose you have anything useful."

The screen goes black, and then something new appears.

"...Toy Chica's High School Years? The Animated Series?" Gregory makes a face. "I don't see how that's going to be helpful."

The video skips ahead. "...I can always set his house on fire, and he can come running into my arms!"

"What the fuck."

Gregory realizes he can smell smoke. "Shit. Right, they were going to set a fire - shit! Shit shit shit, how do I - I can't get this damn door to open!"

He slams the door with his fist, wincing at the impact. "How do I get out of here?"

The computer chimes.

< Reach out. >

Gregory glares at it. "What, right through the fucking metal?" he growls. "Fuck, I'd be better of trying to ask Sun for help, even though he can't fucking hear me from in here."

He goes to yell something sarcastic, probably along the lines of "Sun, I'm stuck, get me the fuck out of here" but the words die in his throat.

The last time Sun offered to help, the animatronic had mentioned Freddy. Had sounded upbeat, even, while doing so.

The office around him suddenly smells like copper. Gregory nearly gags, averting his gaze from the stains suddenly leaking from the floor. If this is his mind, then he doesn't need to see the visual representation of his feelings right now.

It's not Sun's fault. Logically, he knows this. He's the one who chose to keep it a secret, and as a result, the animatronic now has no idea.

But still...

Gregory covers his nose with his collar as the smell worsens. It smells like copper and something worse, now, a sharp tang that floats through the air.

The floor is red - always a bad sign.

The computer screen shows the princess sprite again, back in the darkened forest with the red sun.

{ Can't you hear them? They're looking for you. }

< Go. >

Gregory steps back. His feet splash through puddles of dark liquid. "Leave me alone."

{ Gregory? }

"Leave me alone. Just get away from me."

"Gregory? Gregory, is that you?"

He's suddenly conscious of a match in between his gloved fingers, the flame flickering from his breath. Gregory inhales sharply, his eyes darting from the match to the puddles on the floor.

He's standing right in a roomful of oil - the stench is overwhelming. He doesn't know how he ever mistook it for blood.

He looks up to see two blue eyes. It's Moon.

"Gregory?"

Gregory can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Stay away," he chokes out. "Don't - don't -"

Two children appear before him, one boy and one girl. They smile, faces covered with smoky shadows.

"We'll stay with you," they say. "So stay with us."

"Gregory, please -"

The children grab his arms. "Get away from here."

"Gregory!"

The fire reaches his fingers, burning him through the cloth. Gregory lets go with a yelp, his hands stinging from the pain.

He finds himself back in the office.

...He's pretty sure he's about to die back in the real world, though, so... maybe he'll just stay here for a bit longer...

"You're a really stubborn child, aren't you?"

Gregory faces the newcomer warily, only to do a double-take. This time it's an animatronic, except it looks like Sun - only it has an inverted scheme, with unfamiliar, dark colored eyes.

The animatronic has its arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. Gregory almost calls it 'Sun,' just because of the similarities, but it speaks again.

"Those two are desperately trying to save you, by the way," it says. "Sun. And Moon. Aren't you going to help them?"

Gregory flinches. "They... they'll leave. Animatronics don't handle heat that well."

"Neither do humans." The animatronic shakes its heads. "You should know them better than that. Look, the door is open - they're waiting for you."

Gregory turns to see the metal door is, indeed, wide open.

"Just reach out a bit. They'll help you."

"They can't," Gregory says, his voice dull. "This is... this is my problem."

The animatronic laughs. "Like they care about that. They're just worried about you - you're probably going to die if this keeps up, you know."

"...Probably."

"Well?" The animatronic makes a shooing gesture with its hands. "Go on."

Gregory hesitates, then groans, resigned to his fate. He steps out of the office, straight into a billowing cloud of smoke.

Right. The fire.

...Fuck. Fuck! Gregory shakes his head, trying to get his bearings while covering his mouth and nose with his shirt.

"Gregory!"

He turns to the voice. "Sun? Moon -" Gregory breaks down coughing. He can feel burns on his hands and legs. "Sun - help -"

Although he can't see it, there's a princess watching him stumble into the Daycare Attendant's arms. Sun frantically cradles the young man, who is now on the verge of passing out, and rushes away from the flames.

The princess smiles.

< See? That's all you had to do. Just reach out, and ask for a little bit of help. >

Chapter Text

"He'll be okay," Moon says.

He can feel his counterpart sobbing in the back of their shared headspace. In between the burns and the smoke inhalation, Gregory had been whisked away to the hospital almost immediately. Still, now that they can't be assured of his condition, it's nerve wracking to only be able to guess if Gregory is still alive or not.

Even if he's alive, the young man had passed out. Even now, he might be in a coma, or perhaps permanently crippled somehow. The human body cannot be fixed the way a mechanical one can - even worse, it's far more delicate in every way.

Sun can't help but run through the worst-case scenarios again and again. It's incredibly depressing.

Moon stalks the ruined halls of the Pizzaplex, casting his gaze at the blackened walls and scattered rubble. In some parts, the ceiling collapsed, blocking some areas while revealing the dim, darkened sky.

Moon takes a moment to look at it. He's seen it before, of course - through the lobby doors, or on the internet.

It's not much different, seeing it for himself without any obstacles in the way.

Sun thinks about what would have happened if the ceiling had collapsed on Gregory before they'd found him. So many things could have gone wrong. They should have done better, somehow; they shouldn't have let the situation spiral out if control like that.

Moon perches on top of a soot-stained counter and rests his faceplate on his hands. "Please don't start imagining things that didn't even happen. That just takes up memory space."

Sun doesn't appreciate his blunt attitude. It's their fault, after all. They're the ones who invited Gregory to the party, and they're the ones who weren't able to stop him from running off.

"Gregory is an adult. We can't control him. We did our best." Moon considers his words for a moment. "And he did too, I'm sure. We'll get the full story later, but didn't you see his eyes? And the shadows? It all burnt up. I think it's probably fine, now."

After a moment, Moon realizes that Sun is focusing on the wrong part of his words. Moon says sharply, "We won't control him. We're already doing everything we can. He won't disappear on us for no good reason."

Sun reluctantly agrees. They've both already done so much, but after the events of the night, it's easy to consider crossing boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. Tracking the young man through the clothes they gave him is, admittedly, already overstepping things a bit. More than that...

...Come to think of it, Gregory might do his best to return, but after this incident, the Pizzaplex might not reopen for months. If it ever reopens at all. Worse, what if the company decides to fire him?

Moon groans as Sun starts sobbing again. The other may only be an AI with no body at the moment, but he's doing a good job at imitating the sounds gut wrenching sorrow.

Moon stands, doing his best to ignore his counterpart. Sometimes it's better for them to let their emotions run their course, in order to avoid backing up their systems. Still, it's a little annoying, particularly since Moon himself is feeling restless and uneasy. He needs something to occupy himself with, at least until the sun rises enough to trigger their exoskeleton and he can let Sun deal with the annoyances of being physical.

He peers out of the building, examining the situation beyond the glass doors. There's police tape everywhere, and a small crowd has gathered on the sidewalk. Not exactly a fun place to be. Already, some bots have migrated back inside, huddled among the debris.

...Moon decides to avoid that mess. If there's any press to deal with, he's sure the Glamrocks - or maybe the police - have got it covered.

After searching through the halls again, Moon considers cleaning up the Daycare. Unfortunately, the place is unsalvageable, and beginning that particular task will likely send his cleaning programs haywire. Instead, he goes to the security office, where the thick walls and doors prevented the worst of the damage.

Moon digs into his security protocols and brings the relevant information to the front of his queue. There are a few copies in the desk drawer - the drawer is made of metal, and is, like the office, relatively unscathed - so he pulls out one of the sheets and begins to start filling it out with a pen retrieved from another drawer.

He can feel the presence of Sun's AI pressing close, accessing their visual sensors curiously. Sun wants to know what he's doing.

"There are three problems," Moon explains out loud, pausing for a moment at the blank space where the name needs to be filled in. He writes down 'Eggs Benedict' - they still don't know Gregory's surname, and the company file hasn't been updated yet. "Gregory's job, his education, and his financial situation. With his injuries, we will need to pick up the slack... An incident report needs to be filed before the end of the shift."

Moon can feel his counterpart's emotions suddenly change. Sun becomes cheerful as he realizes what Moon is doing. Sun forgot that there are still things they can do to assist Gregory.

Moon finishes off the report and starts scanning it, intending to file a digital copy. "You seem unusually excited," he comments.

Sun explains that, since Gregory is incapable of returning to work, then they will have to ensure his work continues to be done.

"But the building is burnt down. The animatronics will likely be relocated within the next few days..." Moon says, confused. He's certain that the Daycare Attendant has this information, but perhaps it requires some verbal confirmation?

Sun feels annoyed.

The point isn't that the work needs to be done, but that they now must complete Gregory's work for him. In other words, their assistance protocols can be temporarily converted into authority.

"Is that how it works?" Moon says uncertainly. He's sure it isn't, but Sun probably has something in mind that exploits some loophole. Or maybe they're about break some rules.

Just as he finishes sending in the incident report, their body begins to fold in and stretch, allowing Sun to take over. He looks up at the sky, through a ceiling with entirely too many holes in it, to see that it's become much brighter than before.

Sun smiles widely. "Of course," he says, continuing the conversation seamlessly. "As you said, there are a few problems. While Gregory recovers, we can take care of things for him! If we tidy things up and ensure everything is in proper, working order, he'll be able to return with peace of mind!"

Moon's AI still seems doubtful. He begins to rifle through their shared files, trying to figure out Sun's intentions.

Is he planning to cross the line after all?

Sun flinches. "No, no no no," he says hastily to his counterpart. "But we need to help, or he'll - we'll fail. We need to -" His voice box seems to fill with static, and for a moment, Sun almost gets stuck in a negative loop again. He doesn't, but it's a close thing.

Moon's AI instantly backtracks in response. Of course they should help Gregory; Moon just didn't understand what Sun was planning to do.

Sun focuses. "Yes. I'm sorry. We should register Gregory as a new employee."

Moon's AI seems to freeze, his processes temporarily halting in place. His confusion is almost palpable. Gregory is already an employee.

Sun smiles. "The company is useless. He's still registered as Eggs Benedict - that's proof enough, isn't it?"

Moon agrees wholeheartedly.

"All he needs is a new job! We'll find a site to register him at, then ensure we're transferred there as well. We can also access the information on the computers for the other issues..."

As the Daycare Attendant continues to scheme, outside in the parking lot, the Glamrocks are struggling to come to terms with what has happened.

They've all programmed to know what to do in the case of a fire - be sure to evacuate any guests (during daytime hours only), remove themselves from the source of the fire, immediately alert the available authority (in priority order: security, on-site manager, fire station), and to stay active unless required otherwise in order to adapt to the situation. But there's no instructions on what to do while they wait. The fire has been dealt with, and now they're left to watch over everyone until they're contacted by the management and shipped off to whichever site is deemed necessary. They might even be put into storage if things can't be arranged quickly enough.

Roxy is currently holding Chica, making distressed noises. "This sucks," the wolf growls, eyes flashing with irritation. "This was supposed to be fun. Easy. Where did that fire even come from?"

"It was such a mess," Chica says sadly. "At least everyone was in one room, so the evacuation was easy. But now management might find the remnants of the party... Oh, Gregory - I wonder how he became so injured? Moon looked devastated..."

Freddy sighs, placing a paw over his face. "I did not even know that the Naptime Attendant was still active," he says. "That was certainly a shock."

"More than the fire burning everything down?" Monty asks sarcastically.

"Nearly," Freddy says. "Although not quite. I am grateful everyone was able to get out in time."

Chica pats Roxy who is still clinging to her, her eyes full of worry. After a moment of silence, Chica says, "Do you think Gregory will be alright?"

"Who cares? The little brat is tougher than anyone I've ever met, I'm sure he'll be fine," Roxy grumbles.

Monty glances over the small crowd of people being kept out of the parking lot by the police. "...This is going to end up on the news."

"It always does," Chica sighs.

"At least no one is at fault. It was simply an accident no one could have prevented," Freddy says. He looks tired. "I will admit I was concerned about Gregory after he ran off, but I am thankful that the Daycare Attendant found him in the end..."

Monty turns back to Freddy, his purple sunglasses glittering in the yellow streetlights. "What was that about Gregory?"

Freddy looks uncertain. "Shortly before the incident, we spoke for a bit. He seemed very distressed, and even left the Daycare Attendant behind. I do not know what happened..."

"Distressed?" Monty echoes. "How so?"

Freddy shakes his head. "I truly do not know."

"...I see." Monty turns away, his shoulders set into something stiff and unhappy. "...There was some stuff we discovered. We were supposed to deal with it after, but it looks like..." He trails off, baring his teeth at the night air.

Roxy looks up. "What do you mean - are you talking about the Remnant?"

Chica and Freddy look at them curiously, so Roxy and Monty fill them in on the basics. "We were supposed to discuss this tomorrow - or today, I suppose," Monty says. "The kid didn't seem pleased, but... I guess we don't have to worry about it now that the place's been turned to ash, huh?"

"What does this have to do with the young man?" Freddy questions. "It sounds like far too simple of a plan to be so distressed."

Monty looks at him for a long moment. Eventually, he sighs. "You're a bit of an idiot, aren't you?"

Freddy blinks in surprise.

"You're the only one of us with memories of the Incident from the years ago, yeah? Gregory has dealt with some shi - stuff, so of course he a little antsy. Are you really telling me you haven't recognized him after all this time?"

Freddy hesitates. "The Incident... Are you implying that the child I met is... Gregory?"

"Yeah, he pretty much said so himself," Monty says, crossing his arms. "I was planning to fill you all in later - I didn't want to dump this on you all right before the party - but, well, it's later now."

"...I see. I..." Freddy looks remarkably uncomfortable. "...I do not understand."

"What, did you think I can't read a room? You were all clearly excited to wear costumes and -"

"No," Freddy says, cutting Monty off in an uncharacteristically blunt manner. "I do not understand why Gregory hates me so much. I... I am certain we had a good relationship at the time. In addition... he asked me if I remembered him, and I... Perhaps I was the cause of his distress?"

Roxy eyes Freddy. "You're annoyingly oblivious sometimes, that's true," Roxy says blithely, "but I kinda doubt he'd run off after something like that. Wouldn't he just make fun of you in that kind of situation?"

Chica pats Roxy gently. "Stop talking for a bit, dear."

Monty rolls his eyes. "I'm only telling you all this because I'm not sure what management plans to do with us. Worst case scenario, none of us get to see Gregory again and all this tension stays unresolved. Then at least you're aware of what's going on. Best case scenario, we end up back together, and you get to apologize for... for hurting him. Either way, I'm not going to make him explain all this to you guys when I can just fill you in without the hassle."

"The Pizzaplex burning down is one hell of a hassle," Roxy pipes up.

Chica pats Roxy on the snout again, and the wolf quiets down.

Chapter Text

The animatronics are not treated well.

It's funny to think about, in the grand scheme of things. They have always been the main attraction, the entertainment, the show for visitors to come and gawk at like so many moving pictures on a screen. Even the STAFF robots are often treated as little more than buttons to press and things to demand.

But in the wake of the fire, there's no purpose for any of them now. They are a waste of space, and a waste of money.

It starts on the first night.

"Hey, you - one of you - gather up the STAFF bots. I can tell some of them's wandered off and I don't feel like running around just to take inventory."

The Glamrocks turn to see a man standing nearby, his arms crossed. None of them recognize him from memory, but facial recognition places him as a recent hire in charge of miscellaneous tasks. Essentially, a gofer.

Chica sits upright. "What for?"

The man, a middle-aged adult according to the company network (which is on the fritz thanks to the fire damage), blinks in surprise. "Uh... Higher-ups are planning to ship the STAFF bots around, since they're always... breaking. That's what they get for making them cheap though."

Roxy draws herself up to her full height. She steps close, looking down at the man. He takes a step away.

"Any news on what they're planning with us?" Roxy asks bluntly.

The man glares at her. "Probably put you in storage. Kind of a waste of space right now, aren't you?"

Roxy bares her teeth in a smile. "Is that what you think?"

"Uh..."

"I am afraid we are all on Fire Protocol at the moment," Freddy interrupts, smiling apologetically. "Unless you have the authority to deactivate that, you may have to take inventory manually. However, I wish to assist you. There are 112 STAFF bots are still in working condition, and 9 STAFF bots that were... unfortunately severely damaged in the fire."

"Right, that's all I needed," the man snaps. He turns and marches away without another word.

Roxy makes a face at the man, waiting until he climbed into a car and drove off before growling, "Humans are all the same, aren't they."

After that, the company wastes no time in transporting most of the STAFF bots to other sites. There are a few tearful farewells, and a large number of exhausted conversations. The bots say their good-byes, and then they're piled into trucks and taken away.

The Glamrocks are put to work. They are sold to off-site parties more often than not, usually being separated for days at a time.

"They're working us like dogs," Roxy complains whenever they have a chance to converse with one another. It becomes rarer as time passes - the problem is that there's no routine. No schedule beyond what the company plans, which can change from day to day without any notice. It's extremely uncomfortable for the animatronics, whose programming is used to extremely predictable routines.

They don't even get to roam at night anymore. There's nowhere to roam - after all, the Pizzaplex was almost completely burned down, leaving them to remain in their charging stations each night.

As a matter of fact, the Pizzaplex is also being rebuilt - supposedly. It's a slow process, despite Fazbear Entertainment's penchant for spending money and rushing progress. Construction of a new site is slow, and reconstructing an old one seems even slower. Even worse, there's word of renovations and changes, which is surely not helping the situation.

All that's been erected is a skeleton made of scaffolding and metal beams. The bots have a betting pool on whether this project will be suspended indefinitely. No one's bet otherwise.

With everything going on, the Glamrocks, in the end, forget to keep track of the Daycare Attendant. They're busy, or they don't care - either way, they don't question where the Attendant has disappeared to. They don't question why Sun is never around for parties, or why Moon never shows up during their brief moments of free time at night. Even the few remaining STAFF bots don't seem to notice the missing animatronic.

Or if they do, they keep quiet. Although it's not very hard to keep secrets from the busy, overworked Glamrocks in the first place.

To be fair, the Daycare Attendant is also busy.

It's a surprise when they suddenly appear one night before the Glamrocks as they're heading to their charging stations. It's Sun, illuminated by the lights of the partially-fixed hallway. He smiles and waves his hands. "Hello there! It sure has been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Sun!" Chica says, sounding pleasantly surprised. "Oh my goodness, it's... It's been awhile, yes. Where have you been?"

"Around! Playing a little bit of hide-and-seek, learning a new language - you know how it is!" Sun clasps his hands together. "It's been a very long week. Has there... has there been any news of how Gregory is doing?"

The four Glamrocks look at one another. "No, I... We have not received any word on his condition," Freddy says. "It is unlikely to have become worse. I am sure he will recover soon."

"Kid's a real persistent one," Roxy says. "There's no way he'd let a fire like that beat him."

Monty peers at Sun through his sunglasses. "I would've thought you'd have checked up on him by now," the alligator says curiously. "Surely you could've found time to say hello? Even if the hospital isn't taking visitors, it's not like that's..." a problem for any of them, he means but doesn't say.

Sun's smile turns a little strained. "Unfortunately I'm not allowed off the premises. Nobody rents a Daycare Attendant for a birthday party! But, ah, if there's been no news then I suppose that's... good."

There's an awkward moment of silence.

"...Did you need anything? It seemed as though you had something else to say," Freddy says, his tone curious.

"Yes. Indeed!" Sun rocks back on his heels, his faceplate tilting slightly. "Are you aware that they're planning to reconstruct the Pizzaplex?"

"It seems so!" Chica chirps.

Sun continues, "Exactly as it was before! Without prior demolishment. Or safety reviews."

Roxy frowns. "Yeah? What's your point?"

Sun stares at the four of them for a moment. He's really tall, something that's hard to notice with his bright colors and slouched, half-crouched posture, but his sudden stillness makes them all aware of the lanky robot's presence.

"It's not good," Sun says, finally. "I... I thought you would..." The Daycare Attendant cuts himself off, eyes flickering. "The structural integrity is dangerous. The project will probably be put on hold, which means they might temporarily ship you all to different locations for the time being."

Chica's face falls. "We're going to be separated?"

Sun looks at her. "It hasn't been determined yet."

"Wait," Monty says. "Where'd you learn about that?"

Sun shrugs. "The company network," he says, as if that explains everything.

It sort of doesn't, but the Glamrocks are now too busy with their apparently inevitable transfer to dwell on it. Chica, in particular, looks worried. "If Gregory gets better before the site is done, will he not be able to work anymore?" she says out loud. "And us - they're not going to replace us, are they?"

"They might," Monty says unhappily. "It's not like they care either way."

Roxy huffs in frustration. "They don't respect us at all. Damned idiots don't even realize they wouldn't have a business without us!"

Sun watches them all carefully. "Of course, who knows what the future will bring!" he says, a little too cheerful. "We need to go charge. Take care, friends!" He waves and darts off into the ruined Pizzaplex.

Freddy frowns curiously. "Did the Daycare Attendant have to charge at night?" No one has an answer.

Chapter Text

Freddy doesn't think about Gregory at all. He's simply too busy, playing host to birthday parties and entertaining children. He's dealing with parents and bored employees and his own friends who are worried about their uncertain future.

He doesn't think about it at all.

Freddy doesn't think about the way Gregory has seemed to always hate him. The young man would barely look at him most of the time, not even seeming sorry when Freddy woke up without a body. And on the night of the fire, Gregory had looked close to tears.

Freddy tells himself that he isn't thinking about it, but he's lying. And he's never been a very good liar, not even to himself.

As a matter of fact, Freddy thinks about it a lot.

He does not remember the Incident very well. The memories stored away in his hard drive have been pushed back, stored for so long until they've become nothing more than distant data. He still remembers it clearly, but in the way one might recall a story told to them by someone else.

To be honest, he had moved on from it. There was a child, and then that child was gone. The child had escaped safely, or so he'd thought.

And there have been so many children since. Gregory had been special, but then... so is every child. Right?

But now that he's actively trying to recall those memories, he's starting to realize, slowly, that he cannot recall the exact instance that the child had walked through the doors of the Pizzaplex. It could be explained by any number of innocent mistakes - perhaps he had not been looking at the time, or perhaps the visual file was deemed unimportant while clearing his cache of extraneous data, or perhaps it has simply become corrupted or lost after so long. It could be anything.

It really, truly could be anything. Perhaps Monty was even lying, and Gregory isn't the same child from back then.

But Freddy knows Monty wouldn't lie about something like this. Not for so long - and not with such a grave face. Which is, honestly, something else Freddy had not understood. Perhaps Gregory has had nightmares about the Pizzaplex since then, but why would he hate Freddy, too? Why would Monty look at him, specifically, with a look that bordered on disappointment? Freddy would never hurt a child.

Of course, nor would any of his friends, in their right mind... And, it's true that Freddy had succumbed to the virus in recent memory, before the fire...

But surely he would have remembered if he had succumbed to the virus during the Incident - no, he couldn't have succumbed. Isn't that one of the reasons the technicians left his memory files alone? Because he was special. Because he had... he had been the one to lead that child to safety.

Freddy had been so sure of that for so long.

But perhaps that was not true after all.

Because there is a young man lying in the hospital, a young man who had been caught in a fire after running away from him in distress. There is a Daycare Attendant who will not meet his eyes, not after the events of the fire. And one - or more, he's not sure - of his friends seem to know something that he doesn't.

And now, the company is planning to transfer the rest of the bots, and the Glamrocks with them, to a different sites. Multiple, possibly.

Freddy Fazbear, the face of Fazbear Entertainment. The lead singer of the band, the mascot who has been the main character since the beginning.

There's a music box playing, and Freddy is tempted to follow it.

Monty's the only one to see him go, and the alligator can't help but snicker.

It feels like forever since the last time Freddy has even considered breaking a rule - the last time was before Gregory arrived and Chica had accidentally broken one of the ovens in the kitchens. Freddy had helped them erase the footage so she wouldn't get in trouble, and had gathered the STAFF bots to hide the evidence. Roxy had helped too, of course, but somehow when Freddy collects the other bots, he's almost annoyingly efficient.

Still. As previously mentioned, Freddy doesn't often break the rules. Or if he does, he does it in the way that still feels like the actions of a teacher's pet.

Monty turns back to the other two Glamrocks, who haven't noticed anything. Or maybe they're assuming that Freddy is just retiring early tonight. Roxy and Chica are too busy murmuring at each other to notice that their lead singer has just wandered in the opposite direction from where the charging stations are.

A STAFF bot - a short yellow one with electronic eyes - rolls up beside him, beeping inquisitively. Monty winks at it and holds a claw to his mouth. "It's a secret," he says quietly.

The STAFF bot blinks in acceptance. Then it beeps some more, and Monty's grin falls.

"Ah... They've stopped construction, huh? Thanks for letting me know." Monty stands. "I'll let the Daycare Attendant know... they probably know already, but meh." He waves at the bot, says his good-byes to the girls, and meanders into the ruined Pizzaplex.

He finds the Daycare Attendant in one of the security offices, plugged into the computer and standing as still as statue. When he opens the door, there's a flicker on the monitor before Moon turns, eyes settling on Monty with a surprised expression.

"Mr. Montgomery? What brings you here?" Moon asks curiously.

"They're stopping construction, just like you said." Monty leans against the doorframe, staring at the computer curiously. "Any idea if they've... settled on a place for us to go?"

Moon's expression looks complicated. "It's certainly hard to say," Moon grumbles. "We're having trouble with the stupid company - er, security. They're being very - secretive. About everything."

Monty struggles not to laugh. "I had a few ideas about where to go, if any of the higher-ups bothered to ask."

Moon perks up slightly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like, for example, there's a couple other sites in town, right? A bowling alley, a small diner, even a cafe - like, there's tons of places for a - an animatronic to have a relaxing time, you know. I wouldn't wanna leave this town, because it's too long of a drive. So like, really, there's only so many places to pick from."

Moon nods thoughtfully. "Hadn't thought of that," the Naptime Attendant says thoughtfully.

Monty grins. "A food establishment would be nice, since there'd be stuff for the ki - Chica to snack on, ya know?"

Moon continues nodding. The monitor flickers back to life behind them, but both Monty and Moon ignore it.

"That makes sense," Moon says thoughtfully.

Monty continues tossing out ideas, carefully pretending he doesn't know what the Daycare Attendant is doing and how they're really doing this for. Moon does a lot of nodding, although he does make a face when Monty mentions the company again. Which is incredibly fair.

It's a heartwarming scene, the Daycare Attendant and the bassist working together to determine where to transfer everyone.

Chica squints from where she's spying on them. "They're being sneaky," she complains. "I could be helpful too."

"You gotta let guys feel smart," Roxy says, squinting as well. She misses the days when she could see through walls - now she has to peer around corners like a common thief. "They should've asked for our input, but maybe it's that whole 'plausible deniability' thing they're counting on."

"Who's going to interrogate us? Anyway, there's no such thing as plausible deniability when we can literally erase our own memory banks."

Roxy shrugs. "Doesn't that mean we can plausibly deny everything then?"

Chica sighs.

Chapter Text

It's grey when he wakes up. Like there's ash in his lung, cobwebbed across his chest so that every breath feels like something is tightening, and rough, and going to send him into a coughing fit.

He breathes slowly. He's had practice before, on too-cold-nights when his body is displeased with his lack of care.

Cold sparks fly across his skin. Even his vision feels out-of-focus. All signs pointing towards a pretty bad state of being. Everything is grey, and he's tired, and maybe it would be better if he wasn't awake right at this moment. But he vaguely remembers waking up before, in brief moments, and he has a feeling that now would be a decent time to wake up.

He forces his eyes to stay open and stares at the ceiling. It's... white. Which is how he knows he's in a hospital. Everything in a hospital is white, unless it's beige.

What happens next is a blur.

Nurses tell him he'll need to rest for a few more days - how many, they don't quite have an answer for - and doctors say he's lucky to be alive. It wasn't that bad, apparently, but judging from the smoke and the scope of the fire and the state he's in currently, it's a miracle he was able to get medical attention in time to keep it from being serious.

They tell him to relax. He was on IV for awhile but not anymore. That's good. He hates needles. They'll bring him something he can eat later, and someone gives him a bottle of water to drink - he's told to pace himself.

He doesn't. He almost vomits because of it.

After they all leave, mercifully shutting the door behind them and leaving him alone in the room, he does some thinking. Or rather, he tries to. But he's hungry and his head hurts, so it's rather hard to think coherently.

Gregory thinks about his memories. They're rather fuzzy, but in light of the apparently 'massive fire' that he'd escaped from - a nurse's words, not his - he thinks he deserves to be a little fuzzy on the details. Plus, now that he thinks about it, the ghosts might have been quite literally exorcised from his brain. It's suspiciously quiet, which... doesn't prove anything, but it's a nice change.

So. Back to his thinking.

Honestly, Gregory is pretty sure that his grades are shot to hell at this point. So that's something. He could request an extension, try to plead his case, but the scholarships and the professors probably aren't going to be impressed. And his job - well, no one had mentioned him getting sued, but being fired was just as likely.

Alone in a hospital bed without a job. He might actually lose the apartment after the receipts are printed.

Life is so fucking expensive. It's even worse that he has to think about this while lying here, in a hospital bed. The worst part is, he could technically not have to deal with the bills and the money. There's someone he could, technically, shove all that responsibility on.

Gregory thinks about the Daycare Attendant. He's not expecting much from them, since the Pizzaplex has - according to the newspaper one of the nurses gave him, his face entirely too sympathetic - burned down to a crisp. Still, he hopes they're alright. He'd hope that the rest of the bots are still alright too, the sign bots and the STAFF bots and the Glamrocks -

And then that has him thinking about one Glamrock in particular, and Gregory wrenches his thoughts away before he can start spiraling again.

When a few days have passed and Gregory doesn't feel like each breath is threatening to constrict his lungs, he asks for his phone.

It was not in his belongings. Possibly fried or melted on the Pizzaplex floor, then.

He asks for a phone, in general, and is handed on with bright-colored stickers and a glitter band around the edge. He calls a number that he memorized a long time ago, back when he was a kid and had still-fresh scar tissue knitting his stomach back together. It's a number that he sort of wishes he'd forgotten, just so he'd have an excuse.

But his life is in shambles and, despite everything, he very much wants to continue living.

The phone rings four times before the call's picked up. Gregory taps the phone, his voice still hoarse, each word still precious. "Uncle," he settles on.

He can hear the gasp on the other end. And then something choked and emotional.

Gregory feels sick at the sound of it, He tried not to make it obvious. "Can you help me?" he forces past his lips, and now there's a man on the other end of this phone openly sobbing, and the nurse who'd let him borrow the phone is kind of staring, and it's very, very awkward.

It does not get any less awkward. The older man sweeps into the hospital and pays for the bills. Gregory mentions his classes, and that's going to be looked into and taken care of now. He mentions his job, and is told in no uncertain terms that he can leave that horrible company behind now.

He should be grateful. He asked for help.

Gregory does not feel grateful.

The car ride - after he's discharged from the hospital - is worse than the hovering. He sits in the passenger seat, stiff and aching. His uncle sits in the driver's seat, rests his hands on the steering wheel, and makes no move to start driving.

It's almost violently quiet.

When Gregory was little, his dad had told him that this man was like a father to him. An uncle, but not related by blood.

Well, family is chosen, and blood has nothing to do with it. His dad - and, by extension, his grandfather, may he rot in hell - had made that very clear.

And so this man is Gregory's uncle.

The family tree is complicated and annoying, but his dad had said that Henry is on that tree, and now he's taking advantage of it. So he should at least try to act grateful.

Gregory tries to unclench his jaw. It doesn't really work.

"I was so worried," Henry says. He looks old, leaning against the wheel with his grey hair and deeply-lined eyes. "I'm so glad you're alright. And - and now you can come home."

One of Gregory's eyes twitches. He tries to be casual about pressing a hand to his face to make it stop.

"I'm so glad you're alive," Henry says.

Gregory remembers that Michael had almost died in a fire that Henry had set, and pretends that the wobble in the older man's voice is grief instead of fear. Grief does funny things to a man, but fear is more immediate. More prone to consequence.

Weeks of silence in a hospital room. Questions about his health, about past allergies, about his address - that doesn't count.

Gregory clears his throat. "I'm hungry."

The words fall flat, but Henry nods anyway, straightening with all the weariness of a man who's seen far too much in too little time. They go to a fast food place. Gregory eats his hamburger, very carefully not thinking about how much he owes this man.

It's debt, plain and simple. Payment for the price of acting like a family.

He pretends that this is a life worth living.

His lungs have healed. Mostly. And now he has new scars alongside the old ones. He doesn't have his old clothes anymore, but he doesn't need them. Better that they burned than him.

He has always been lucky. Gregory has lost a jacket, a phone, and a job. And yet, he's still alive.

He pretends that he hasn't lost something more than the material items.

Chapter Text

Gregory can't sleep.

It makes for a fitful day of being half-aware and working hard to fight past the syrup in his head. He falls asleep halfway through, waking up with no idea of where he is or what time it is. He ends up overheating and has to take a shower to bring down the level of misery he feels.

It sucks. Gregory knew he would take this hard, but he'd had no idea how hard until he was in the bathroom at six forty-two in the afternoon, staring at the toilet bowl because he thinks he might throw up at any second.

Henry is at... work, or something. At twenty-three years old, Gregory is well aware of how busy an adult's life can be. How busy Henry's is, with his near-obsession with the Fazbear franchise and whatever business he operates to fund his obsession, he can hardly begin to guess. Still, it feels a lot like he's a kid who's been left home alone to sulk, and it annoys him.

The space is nice, though. God knows what he'd do if he had to deal with his body rebelling against this house and with the old man at the same time.

A few minutes, or maybe a few hours, pass without him noticing - time has a way of slipping through his hands when he's lacking sleep, and he's gone through a lot but this is on a different level than usual - and he hears a polite knocking on the door. Gregory's eyes flicker to his phone. A new one with a different number. No text, which means Henry hasn't come home. In that case, it must be...

"Hello? Gregory, are you okay?"

The high-pitched and childish voice belongs to the one and only toy-sized animatronic: Helpy. Gregory would hate the thing if it actually resembled Freddy, but between the white-and-pink color scheme and the cartoonish proportions, it doesn't look like him at all. Other than the hat, but it's welded on. He's not about to rip off a part of the bot's exoskeleton just because it makes him uncomfortable.

Besides, he'd gotten used to it over the years while living with his dad. Henry was a... memorable visitor during that time, if nothing else, and Helpy was a good friend.

"Doing great," Gregory says reluctantly, gathering up the scattered pieces of his brain. He tries to sound coherent. He's not sure if he succeeds.

Helpy makes a humming noise from the other side of the bathroom door. "Okay! Would you like to make a request for dinner?"

Something in Gregory - something emotional and nostalgic - aches a little. He packs that away, manhandling it under the heavy layer of exhaustion and discomfort. "No," he says shortly. "I'm good with whatever."

"Significant allergies or preferences?" Helpy asks, his tone still as cheerful as before. It's something that Helpy used to know, before, but it's been long enough that either the robot wants to verify there's been no changes, or Henry had erased the data in order to free up storage.

Gregory thinks about Chica making food in the kitchen. About the animatronics in general, scanning him for his profile, asking questions, and how they stopped asking questions as they'd gotten to know him. Well, the questions didn't stop, but it's been ages since they've asked about anything as basic and banal as allergies.

"No," he replies. "No, I don't... have any allergies."

"Okay!... Please take care of yourself!" Helpy says, and there's a faint tap-tapping as the small bot presumably walks away.

Gregory is not looking forward to when Henry comes back. He wishes, briefly, for the man to end up stuck at his job somehow. To stay out late enough that Gregory can justifiably retreat to his room close the door, and claim he was sleeping.

The car rolls into the driveway at eight 'o clock sharp, and not even Gregory thinks that's an appropriate time to head to sleep. Not that he couldn't use it, but he's just taken a three hour nap. His internal clock won't be cooperating any time soon.

Gregory drags himself to the living room. When the door opens, he plasters a... not a smile, but a neat real expression. A not-upset expression. "Welcome back."

Henry's expression warms. "Thank you. I'm back," he says, shucking off his shoes and taking a seat beside him on the couch. It's loud, it's noisy, it's breaking the quiet of the house and - "What's for dinner, Helpy?" Henry asks, looking for all the world like a man who's feeling happy and comfortable and completely ordinary.

Annoying.

Helpy jumps off the kitchen counter, landing with an impressive clatter, and trots up to them both. "Fresh rice, sautéed onions, cheese omelette, fried chicken -" the animatronic lists off several more food items, all of which sound fairly good, and also not quite like a cohesive menu. He can't smell it from here, which makes him suspicious. He doesn't hear any sizzling or fans running either. Just silence.

He would've questioned it earlier, had he not been preoccupied by gearing himself up to greet Henry. He's questioning it now, especially when Henry doesn't even raise an eyebrow.

The man merely nods. "I'll take a plate of fried chicken and potatoes," Henry says. The man then looks at Gregory expectantly. So does Helpy.

Gregory only meets the toy bot's gaze. "I'll, uh. Have a cheese omelette. Please."

Helpy salutes. "Understood!" he says, trotting off again. Gregory can't quite see the kitchen from here, but he still doesn't hear anything. Not even the clatter of pans.

...Come to think of it, that bot is so small that he could probably carry it around with him. How is Helpy cooking in the first place?

Gregory thinks about asking Henry.

He discards the thought almost immediately. The silence is very nice, and he's not about to ruin it by making small talk. Especially since, sitting next to each other the way they are, he doesn't even have to look at Henry's face.

It's a bit awkward to stare at a blank Tv screen, but Gregory's done worse before.

Henry, apparently, doesn't appreciate the silence. "Wonder what's on," he says, leaning forward and grabbing the remote. He flips through several channels - none owned by the Fazbear company, Gregory notes - and settles on The Darly Boxman show.

It's about a bunch of vaguely abstract people doing nonsense while the show host looks incredibly stressed the whole time. Gregory watches it with all the enthusiasm of a dying plant.

Gregory can't take much more than five minutes of it before he grabs the remote and turns the volume down.

And then, because he doesn't want to be too blatant with his irritation, he says something as an excuse. "I should probably check in with my workplace soon." He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth.

Henry hums. "You're still recovering. I'm sure they'll understand," he says.

Helpy arrives with two plates of food, and Gregory shovels omelette in his mouth to avoid further conversation. "Thanks," he makes sure to say in-between bites, and Helpy practically beams. Good. At least someone's happy in this hellhole.

Gregory reflects that he thinks he perhaps shouldn't hate Henry as much as he does. The problem is that Gregory holds grudges, and Gregory - as a rule - does not like to be controlled.

Henry is a clingy man. Rightfully so, but still.

Gregory's not looking forward to having to pry himself from Henry's fatherly grasp. Gregory already has a father, thank you very much.

He doesn't need one who's using him as a replacement for the dead.

Chapter Text

There is entirely too much for Moon to deal with, which is saying something, considering the Daycare Attendant was quite literally programmed to deal with multiple moving children at once. Still, there's a difference between ensuring the safety of children and dealing with multiple emotional and financial crises. A difference made all too clear by the way Moon can feel his fan shuttering on and off in an attempt to cool down his flustered systems.

Sun is helping, of course. But even the two of them can only do so much. The two of them can only handle so much emotional load before something cracks.

The Daycare Attendant turns to Monty. Very deliberately, they control their voicebox to say, in as calm a manner as possible, "What do you mean, 'he's gone?'"

Monty makes a frustrated gesture. "He's not at the hospital," he says. It's the second time he's said this, but Moon needs to make sure his auditory sensors aren't somehow malfunctioning. "I don't know where he went - only a few days passed since last time."

Moon's hands twitch, almost shuddering, before he locks down the servos in that area. "Okay," he says.

Moon very carefully does not blame Monty. He does not think about ripping out the GPS sensors in his endoskeleton that keeps him from leaving the premises without permission. He does not cycle through the entire database of forbidden swear words in his memory files.

Sun isn't doing much better, but his counterpart AI is very pointedly leaving the curse dictionary alone. It's funny enough to snap him back to his senses.

Gregory is gone, then. Their plans - none of it matters without the human.

So. The next logical step is to figure out where he went.

Moon asks Monty and Monty doesn't know. As the only Glamrock who, apparently, has consistently broken rules for years and is never once checked or reprimanded, the alligator had been keeping tabs on Gregory once they'd found the hospital he was being kept in. This time, Gregory was gone.

It shouldn't have happened that quickly, Moon thinks. Gregory lives alone - they shouldn't have discharged him this early, without supervision. They were keeping track of his recovery, hoping to be able to contact him when he leaves. It really shouldn't have caught them off-guard like this.

And besides, surely the young man would have contacted them once he'd been able to?

Moon belatedly remembers the ruined remnants of Gregory's phone that they had found during a sweep of the Pizzaplex. It hadn't been salvageable. There's no way he could have called, but he should be able to visit?

Where does Gregory live?

Moon considers this, then shoves the task of figuring that out off to Sun. To Monty, he asks, "Cameras?"

"A few," the alligator says, but for some reason, he looks uneasy.

When Moon receives the records, he understands. The connection is terrible, the image quality even more so, and Moon has no more luck than Monty did in locating Gregory amidst the other patients.

Gregory has never liked to look at cameras.

Moon shoves the camera records at Sun too, just in case the AI catches something both he and Monty somehow missed. He can feel his counterpart's still-steadily-growing panic, and thinks it'd be better to keep Sun busy with whatever he can.

And then he gathers the Glamrocks.

They've become used to him, or at least willing to accept him. Moon is fine with that. He's never going to be comfortable with them as a group - the Glamrocks are celebrities, the favorites - but as Chica, Monty, Roxy, and Freddy... it's fine. He's fine.

It would be nice if Sun were here to deal with them all, but morning won't be here for awhile yet, and their makeshift lights - scavenged and set up within the ruins of the Pizzaplex, safely behind layers of police tape and scaffolding - aren't exactly the best. It's dim enough to keep him at the forefront until night turns into day.

And that's not fair, since Sun was never fully comfortable with the Glamrocks either. He was just better at fronting in general.

Moon tells them about Gregory. They need to find him.

The others know the general plan. Chica nods, Roxy looks irritated but agrees, and Freddy...

Moon notes the difference, logs it, then moves on. He doesn't know what it means and he doesn't care. As an afterthought, he tries to give this file to Sun too. Sun finally seems a little irritated when he does so, saying that Moon can stop handing things off now.

Moon holds back laughter. Irritated is better than panicked, at least.

First they find where Gregory lives. Make sure he's okay, extract themselves from every part of his life that they've been trying to maintain, and welcome him back - or let him go.

Moon hopes he's okay. Sun hopes he'll come back.

If Gregory is not okay, they destroy whatever's causing that. If Gregory doesn't want to come back, they'll - they'll think of something that isn't kidnapping, Sun. Moon directs that last thought toward his counterpart AI, who sends back a response that's part indignant and part sheepish.

They find the apartment. It's difficult, since apparently very little of Gregory's information on the company network is true. It's smart, but annoying.

The apartment is empty. It's lived in, clearly, with sparse furniture and a mostly-empty fridge and a secondhand laptop, but there's no Gregory. No one enter or leaves it, as far as they can tell.

The apartment stays empty for days.

Surprisingly, Freddy is the one to find more information. Specifically, a tiny little intruder in the form of a miniature Funtime Freddy.

"This little one was calling me," Freddy says, his voice grave. He holds the toy-sized animatronic in his paws, the thing appearing to be no larger than a little Music Man - possibly even smaller. It gleams in the sunlight that's filters through the ruined roof.

It holds itself high, smiling widely. "Hello! My name is Helpy!" it says cheerfully.

Sun quickly finds and analyzes the blueprints of the little guy. Originally appearing in a diner, and then vanishing without a trace. The diner itself had burned, just like every other property in the company's name. The animatronic is perfectly harmless - which is weird, considering the blueprints of other animatronics from that time.

"Nice to meet you, Helpy," Sun says. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Helpy raises one arm in a salute. "I request your assistance in Operation: Save Gregory!"

Chapter Text

Turns out he's sick - normal sick, this time, with some inflammation in the bronchial tubes. Gregory should have known he was sick immediately, from the way he'd thrown up the other day. Still, it'd taken a few days of fitful sleeping, constant coughing, and headaches before he gave up and admitted it's probably not the stress that's making his body break down.

One or two doctor's appointments later (Henry was busy so Gregory had needed to book the things himself, and then remembered last-minute that he was poor - luckily Helpy has access to Henry's bank account) and Gregory's been prescribed three bottles of medicine that should fix him up in a week. One's a pill, which kind of sucks. One's a capsule, which also sucks but he's less likely to have to taste. And the third is a bottle of Nyquil, which might also force him to fix his sleeping habits - a sobering thought.

"Good morning, Gregory!" he hears from outside the bedroom door. Gregory covers his face, then sighs.

"Morning, Helpy."

"What would you like for breakfast?" the robot asks cheerfully. He's loud enough to be heard through the door. If Gregory had talked that loudly in his shitty apartment, with its thin walls, he definitely would've gotten a noise complaint.

He doesn't miss the place, exactly. He's just kinda worried that Henry won't let him go back - although now still isn't the time to bring that up. Gregory can't exactly afford the bill to buy more medicine, if it comes to that.

He covers his face with an arm. "Same as yesterday, please," he calls out. His chest hitches with the words; he'll have to take the daily pill again to keep his cough from coming back.

"Okay! See you soon!" The telltale sound of the small robot trotting away reaches his ears, and Gregory reluctantly rolls over.

Mm. Time to get up. Or, perhaps he could not. Sleeping is a really fun pasttime. Saves him a lot of thinking. Really, Gregory could sleep the whole day away and nobody would ever know. Gods know how his grades are at this point; he's messaged his professors with the proof of his fantastic circumstances, but there's only so much make-up work he can do.

Then his stomach grumbles and he caves, grabbing the bottles from the nightstand before leaving the bedroom.

This is his life now. Taking pills like clockwork, eating food in an empty house, completely disconnected from the world.

It's quiet and still and he thinks he's going to go mad from the emptiness.

Why does Henry have such a uselessly big house, anyway?

Gregory reins in that thought the second he has it. He knows why. The man's grieving - he's always grieving, that's just how grief works. And while Gregory still doesn't like him, he knows that this - the food, the house, the medicine - it's something he wouldn't have been able to afford by himself.

It's fine. This is fine. Gregory owes Henry way too fucking much, he has no control over his life, it is what it is. This is -

Gregory decides to go back to sleep. Sleeping is good for recovery, he hears. He probably fucked up his immune system by not sleeping in the first place, so now he's fixing it. Or something.

Michael wouldn't have left him alone in the house while he was sick, Gregory thinks. Henry is always working, but Michael had worked at home most of the time.

Until he disappeared.

Gregory puts his face in his hands. He was trying not to think about depressing things, godsdamnit. Thinking about Michael is basically inviting the day to turn into a Sad Day - why is he doing this to himself?

Because the house is quiet and his mind won't shut up. He can't even blame it on the ghosts anymore. It's just him.

Gregory still remembers the day he'd met Michael. The early hours of morning, cold enough to chill him to the bone.

At the time, he hadn't really registered the cold - it was only later, while remembering it, that he remembers the way his breath fogged the air in front of him. The way his skin had prickled, and how the light was hazy and grey.

At the time, he'd been too preoccupied with the large wound that cut through his stomach, left behind by Freddy's claws.

He should've died that night. Or that morning. He should have bled out onto the filthy floor of that hellhole, surrounded by possessed machines and staring at the face of a long-dead man with too much life in him. He should have been one more victim in a long line of lost children, doomed to an endless cycle of tragedy.

Gregory thinks he really would have died there, in another universe. He'd been too slow, and Freddy had finally succumbed to William's corruption. That should have been a game over, with no second chances.

But then the ghosts had saved him.

They hadn't wanted him to die. And, of course, they properly traumatized him in the process - seriously, half-crazed dead kids with a thirst for blood have no concept of boundaries or PG-rated behavior - but they dragged him from the restaurant that day. They'd taken him and his bleeding body and had forced him to walk until they stumbled into Michael in some alleyway nearby.

The ghosts had trusted Michael. Gregory didn't learn why until later - apparently the Afton family just doesn't die, for some reason, possibly due to lethal amounts of Remnant and also just general bad vibes - but he'd let the man take him home and keep him alive.

And then Michael had disappeared. Without a word of warning.

Henry had tried to take him in when that had happened, but it was a little too late - Gregory turned eighteen, the ghosts wanted blood, and he'd slipped away before the older man could pin him down. He'd tried to run, hoping to find Michael somewhere that wasn't part of that cursed franchise, but in the end it all turned out to be pointless.

Well. Whatever. Everything is pointless in the end anyway. Gregory's family? Gone, each and every one of them. His friends? Probably lost to the fire. If not the fire, then definitely to the complete radio silence that comes with not having a phone. And his ghosts? Satisfied with whatever closure they've gotten, he can safely say he's lost even those.

Although he can't exactly bring himself to miss them. It's nice, being able to mope without a second cacophony of negativity blaring into his ears every second.

Gregory drags himself to his feet and goes to find Helpy. The robot is currently at the sink, washing dishes. It looks like a precarious position, with the small bear's arms hardly reaching the faucet handles and the dishes being almost as big as Helpy himself, but Henry is a good programmer, at least. The small bot doesn't look like he's having any trouble at all.

"ETA on when Henry's coming back tonight?" Gregory asks drily.

Helpy spins in place, smiling brightly. "Hello, Gregory! Henry is expected to come home around 5:00 pm. Did you need anything?"

"...Need help with the dishes?"

Helpy tilts his head to the side. Gregory can almost see the programming telling Helpy to say no, that he's got it all handled - but Helpy's pretty considerate in his own way. Plus, Gregory feels enough like shit that he figures it's showing on his face, even without him needing to say anything.

"I would love some help!" Helpy says cheerfully. "Would you take over rinsing, Gregory?"

Gregory nods, standing next to the small bear and making sure he doesn't accidentally elbow Helpy off the counter. He'd done that by accident when he was a kid - it was pretty embarrassing when Helpy had simply waved him off, smiling despite the large dent in the bear's nose.

He notices that the water temperature is also adjusted to something significantly less hot. Animatronic was using boiling water just because he could get away with it, huh?

Gregory has never explicitly wished he was an animatronic - gods know he's already seen the consequences - but some things, like metal, not-easy-to-damage skin, has its perks. Being human is great, etc. etc., but he does feel annoyingly delicate at times.

After a few quiet moments of running water and splashing, Helpy chirps, "I visited your friends the other day!"

Gregory almost drops the plate he's putting away in the dish rack. "My - wait what - you did what?" he manages.

Helpy pauses his movements, letting Gregory stare at him. "I visited your friends the other day!" he repeats. "They're very interesting. Did you know that they were worried to death? My counterpart came running when I called - in fact, he sent out his own distress signal before I even responded."

"I... Um." Gregory blinks.

Helpy seems to take in his silence, then shoves a soapy bowl in his hands. As Gregory automatically starts rinsing it, Helpy explains, "I do love you very much, Gregory. You remember that, don't you?"

"...Yeah."

"Henry does too." Helpy starts scrubbing a fork. "But I remember you very well. And you've grown up so much. Michael always wanted you to have friends - so I thought I'd help, this time."

Gregory slowly frowns. "You didn't seem to - I wasn't sure if you remembered me that well. I mean, it's been awhile."

Helpy laughs. "I have an excellent memory, Gregory!" He passes the utensils to Gregory, each piece of silverware handled carefully with his metal paws. "In any case, I repurposed an old program from when you were younger for this specific situation. Would you like to guess which one it is?"

Gregory shrugs. "Uh... Operation: Dessert?"

"So close! Try again!"

"...Nah, I'm out of guesses."

Helpy giggles. "Operation: Save Gregory!"

Gregory blinks, then groans. "Oh gods, that's the one Michael would use when Henry was trying to keep me in his house for too long, isn't it? You know I need his... help... I'm supposed to be grateful..."

Helpy hums. "Henry is not a bad man. And you are a very good young man. You have such interesting friends, Gregory! This will be fun, I promise!"

"If you say so..." Gregory laughs softly. "I'm almost too afraid to ask how your meeting with the... How are they, by the way?"

Helpy passes him another plate. "Doing much better than the last batch that was caught in a restaurant fire! Some big things to look forward to - and a surprise! A very, very good surprise."

Gregory frowns. "It's not a birthday surprise, is it?" he asks suspiciously.

Helpy giggles. "Probably not the kind that you're thinking of!"

Chapter Text

"Ah! No caffeine for you!" Helpy says scoldingly, metal paws on his hips.

Gregory makes eye contact with the bear as he pops open the pull tab, letting the soda fizzle. "C'mon, Helpy, I'm gonna need it for tonight," he says unapologetically, tipping the can back and feeling the carbonated bubbles burn his throat. "I'm not jazzed about this either."

Helpy shakes his head. "You have never liked carbonated drinks ever since you were young, Gregory." His metallic face folds into a near-frown. "And you should not start now! You need to keep your health up as you recover!"

Gregory puts the can down. "I haven't been sleeping well. At this rate, I'm probably gonna sleep right through this little 'rescue' the bots are planning if I'm not careful."

"Yes... Well."

Helpy looks as though he wants to say more, but after a moment, the toy-sized bear simply salutes and walks off. Gregory can hear running water from the kitchen; the bear is likely washing more dishes.

It's been a few days since Helpy had cheerfully declared the beginning of "Operation: Save Gregory," and honestly, Gregory has his doubts.

He's decided to try and not worry about it, though. The less he thinks about it, the less ways he can imagine the whole thing falling apart.

Instead, he slowly attempts to put his accounts in order, making sure to cut off a few bills he doesn't need at the moment - the water bill, for instance, since his apartment is collecting dust - and dealing with his email account being hacked.

Or, rather than being hacked, it's more like it simply doesn't send emails anymore. He'd have liked to have contacted his professors directly, but he still doesn't have a phone. Rest in peace, his somewhat dubious school record. He'll just have to learn to live with whatever marks he ends up with. Maybe just never go back to school ever again.

Yeah. That sounds like a plan. Who cares what his dad wanted? Gregory... just isn't cut out for this, apparently.

He groans in frustration as the computer screen freezes in place, giving him another warning about the program not cooperating. The whole universe isn't cooperating. He chooses the option to wait and see if it'll respond, then stands and stretches, feeling a stiffness in his neck.

Henry won't be back for several hours. Gregory considers this for a moment, then decides to raid the fridge for snacks.

While elbow-deep in the junk drawer - which isn't technically the junk drawer, according to Helpy, but Gregory has no idea what it's actually supposed to be categorized as -
he hears a vehicle pull up in the driveway.

Gregory emerges from the fridge with an armful of jerky and cheese sticks to see a large shadow approaching the house through the blinds.

His first thought is, holy hell, why is this person so tall?

Then the doorknob cracks sharply, like it's being broken. Gregory throws the snacks onto the counter and bolts for the laundry room, where he knows Helpy - and a nice, heavy metal flashlight - is currently.

"There's intruders," he says bluntly, barreling into the laundry room and grabbing the flashlight.

Helpy looks up and blinks. "Oh! Didn't I tell you that your friends are coming by today?"

A moment passes.

Gregory lowers the flashlight, squinting at Helpy. "Are the animatronics currently breaking down Henry's door?" he asks, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.

Not that it matters, because Helpy simply brightens.

"They're early!" Helpy chirps, hopping off the washing machine and trotting back to the front room. Gregory follows along, bemusedly swinging the flashlight at his side like some kind of mini baseball bat. Helpy continues, "I suppose they must've wrapped up their end of the operation quickly, so now they're here! How exciting."

"Mm. Wish I'd known about it," Gregory says, watching as Helpy approaches the front door.

It swings open by itself before the bear even gets there, revealing one yellow animatronic and a doorknob that's dangling from the wood of the door.

Gregory stares at the doorknob. The repairman's gonna have a field day with that one.

"Destruction of private property," he mutters. "For shame, Sun."

The Daycare Attendant ducks easily under the doorframe, head bent down and tilted to slide smoothly through the small rectangle. "Gregory!" he cries, throwing his arms out wide and scooping up the young man before he can react. "I've missed you so very very very very much! I'm so glad you're alright, oh my goodness, it's been so long since we last saw each other! Helpy told me you were recovering from a terrible condition. Running through fire does that to you, I'm sure, so you really should not do that ever ever again!"

"Missed you too, Sun," Gregory says. "And Moon." And it's true. Something anxious and heavy in his chest that he hadn't even noticed has suddenly vanished, leaving him feeling lighter than he has in weeks.

Sun is here. The cheerful, kind animatronic who's become a close friend. And of course, Moon is here too, tucked away in the back of their electronic head.

Sun chuckles. "Oh, no, he's not here right now! Moon is the driver."

Gregory blinks. Between Sun's hug and his still rather-weak respiratory system, he's a little out of breath, and it takes him a few seconds to process Sun's words.

"He's... Moon's in the car?" Gregory asks, confused.

"Mm-hm! Oh! That's right, that's right," Sun says, finally letting go of Gregory and pats their red-and-yellow striped pants, pulling something from a pocket that Gregory can't see. "Your phone was, ah, incredibly difficult to repair. Impossible, one might say! So we finagled - acquired - hmmm, found? Was it in the Lost and Found? Anyway, here's your new phone!"

Sun proudly presents a phone that looks fairly new, if a little beat up around the edges. There's a worn Lucky Star Giftshop sticker on the back, and a little keychain hanging from the corner with a mini Roxy charm.

Gregory swipes it open and isn't surprised when his old password works. At this point, as long as his friends don't use their powers for evil, then who is he to stop them?

"So what's the plan?" he asks absently, discovering that the old owner of this phone had had a lot of social media apps. He can appreciate a bit of internet connection, but how does a person keep up with twenty different media apps at once? That takes some dedication. "Helpy hasn't filled me in on much."

From the living room, a cheerful, "Plausible deniability!" rings out.

Sun giggles, splaying his fingers over his mouth in a familiar fashion. "Well, it's a surprise! I wouldn't want to ruin it now, even though it's oh-so-exciting how close we are to - but nope! It's a secret, and I can keep a secret!"

"Hm..." Gregory frowns. "When did you guys learn to drive?"

"Oh..." Sun tilts his head, an audible click being heard. "Roxy, ah, offered to teach us! She's a wonderful driver, truly. A bit, hm, reckless at times, but much more skilled than the rest of us. And we haven't hit a single person! Or object. Or building. All valid concerns, but not applicable to us!"

Gregory tries to imagine Roxy driving a normal sized car. Then he tries to imagine any of the animatronics driving a car, much less fitting inside of one.

"Let's go say hello to Moon!" Sun says, ducking back outside.

Gregory follows slowly. His questions are answered by the vehicle waiting for them. It's a bus, just sitting outside on the driveway, and it looks terribly out of the place in the suburban neighborhood. The homeowner's association won't be happy about this.

But then he sees Moon in the driver's seat, and he feels himself light up a little. "Wow, you weren't kidding," he says.

Sun turns to him curiously. "What? What is it?"

"You're both - Moon's - You're both here," Gregory says, stumbling over his words. He sees Moon wave and he waves back, trying to find the words to explain the strange giddiness he feels.

Finally he says, "I can say hello to both of you and you can both say it back at the same time, now. That's so cool."

Sun beams. "I'm so glad you think so! It took quite a bit of work - and even now, we're still connected, sharing information over a kind of private network - but yes! We can do twice the things we did before!"

Gregory laughs. "That's amazing."

Their conversation is interrupted when Helpy skips over, metal feet tapping against the concrete driveway.

"The cameras have been disabled since this morning, so there are no records!" Helpy chirps. "I will encrypt my own memory in roughly two hours, just in time for the scheduled reboot of the security system."

Gregory startles. "What? Why the encryption - would Henry really look through your memories just to..."

"I am very good at encryption," Helpy informs him. "Henry has no reason to suspect it! After all, I will speak the truth, and only the truth, and perhaps some not-truth as well."

"That is not how the phrase goes," Moon's voice says drily. He's leaning against the driving wheel with a remarkably bored expression, his ever-present grin buried beneath his folded arms.

Helpy giggles. "Not to worry, Gregory! I am always on your side."

Gregory feels a lump in his throat. "Thanks, Helpy," he says.

Helpy performs a mock salute before exchanging a look with Sun. Having a secret animatronic conversation, Gregory assumes.

Sun clasps his hands together. "Alrighty then, off we go! We've got a schedule to stick to, things to do, so!"

"Bye, Helpy," Gregory says.

Helpy waves his whole arm, beaming. "Good-bye, Gregory! Take care of yourself, and come back some day!" The toy bear trots back into the house and shuts the door, leaving the doorknob to hang limply.

Gregory looks at it for a moment. "Why didn't you wait for Helpy to unlock the front door?" he asks curiously.

Sun looks embarrassed. "I might have gotten a little too excited," he admits.

Gregory stifles a laugh, climbing into the bus. He greets Moon and is then whisked into a tight hug by Chica, who looks close to tears. Well, as close to tears as an animatronic can be, anyway.

"It's been so long!" she wails, her metal limbs wrapped around his torso.

"Let the kid breathe, Chica," Monty drawls, laughing from where he's leaning over the back of a seat. He flashes a grin at Gregory. "Nice ta see you, kiddo. Glad you're in one piece."

Roxy sighs from where she's seat a row down from Monty, her tail hanging in the middle walkway. "Scared us all to death, squirt."

In the back, Freddy says nothing. He simply waves once, a cautious smile on up his face. Gregory returns the gesture stiffly before turning quickly back to Sun, who's seated himself just behind Moon.

Gregory joins him, though not before yanking down one of the windows to let in some fresh air.

"So where'd you say we're going?" he asks.

"We didn't," Moon and Sun say in unison, sounding amused.

Gregory sighed. "Fine, keep your secrets."

Moon snickers. "Alright everyone, buckle in," he announces. "Keep your arms, legs, tails, and head inside the ride... because here we go."

The speed at which the bus peals out of the driveway makes Gregory rethink his decision to get into the vehicle. Unfortunately, it's far too late for that.

Gregory scrambles for his seat belt as Sun's giddy laughter fills the air.