10:00 am

We'll see? We'll see?!

"Please. This is serious. You're putting Thomas in danger by just being out here."

     Hostility boiled into the latter's features. "Everything isn't what it seems, we don't know him as well as we think we do."

     Virgil stared, taken aback.

     The night guard position could've fallen to anyone else, but it was Thomas they got to know. Who endured deadly chaos and kept coming back.

Who wanted to free them.

Of course, it wasn't the smartest thing to completely trust someone after days of knowing them. But a second chance had presented itself—they'd be damned to not accept it.

"Look..." He couldn't quiet down the voice in his head that screamed about horrible possibilities and jumped conclusions. A deadweight in his heart eliminated confidence, and the next thing sounded more like a pressured self-reminder. "...I'm sure he means well, ok? He's really trying to help us out."

Piercing circles and a scowl flared to a blinding degree. His voice smoothed out, uniting the chilling echoes, at the cost of a high-pitched shrill interceding through it all. "You can't believe everything he says!"

"Shh!"

     The animatronic pointed to a circular gash on the door. Thanks to an idiot, his room wasn't as sound proof as it used to be.

"Oh...how'd that happen?" His speech dipped back to normal. At a much softer level, too.

"Not important." Virgil glided his finger to the living shadow. "Why—

     Brisk steps neared the room.

     Shit.

     The robot sat upright, arms crossed, head tilted slightly downward: default position. He glanced between his companion and the room's entrance, giving in to a head twitch when the ghoul expressed bewilderment.

     A door creaked open, slowly at first. Their visitor failed to be discreet.

Shadow Patton got the hint and plunged into the ground.

A horizontal carpet of brighter light expanded in front of the stage, marked with a fuzzy silhouette. They didn't wander inside, so this person had enough encounters with him. New workers learned their lesson when they didn't pay attention to the mascot with a reputation of jump-scaring.

     Virgil kept his eyes fixated to a specific dot on the wall ahead, hoping with every ounce of his soul that they'd say nothing. Go away.

     Go away, go away, go away-

     Another person came by, "What's the matter?"

"I heard someone in here."

     Whoever decided to investigate was also one of the much younger employees. He didn't sound scared? Weirdly concerned if anything.

Two figures from his peripheral vision held still. Watched him.

     Virgil regretted everything leading up to this point. Why'd he engage with whatever Patton turned into? Was shouting that necessary? If they mentioned hearing noise from the 'muted' robot, they'd be done for. Why couldn't—

Why couldn't these people just leave?!

"Out of order." One muttered. "C'mon, it's nothing to worry about."

Heavier footsteps eased out of hearing range, no longer interested in the alarming happenings. The other coworker kept peering into the room, anticipating to catch any further voices.

     He couldn't take it anymore.

The animatronic snapped his head around.

A scrawny teenager froze upon eye contact. He backpedaled, yanked the door shut, and bolted off.

     As if on cue, a dark physique whizzed up from the floor, never letting silence leech into the atmosphere. "Sorry, I didn't know I could to do that."

     Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. Or rather, its emotional equivalence flooded over him.

"Just don't...ever again." He grumbled.

The entity nodded slowly.

There weren't many instances that disturbed the younger one to troubling intensities: but it always led to picking apart words and actions, believing with twisted logic that something was wrong somewhere. No matter how absurd or worrisome his fixations were, the group made an effort to listen and reassure their friend. Although, Logan and Talyn were usually more skilled in consoling him.

     But Virgil wanted to try. Right now, he was the only one who could.

     He treaded lightly on the next question, keeping judgment out of his tone. "Why are you so...mad at Thomas?"

An unwelcome death stare came with the reply. "There's things that don't add up."

The way he phrased it struck a chord in the bionic kid.

     His own mind had an obsession with fabricating irrational dilemmas, that's what Logan called them, but he favored the term 'concerning possibilities'. If inconsistency existed in the night guard's behavior, it pointed towards some adverse possibility. It justified every paranoid thought towards Thomas.

Here lay an opportunity to prove one of his anxieties correct. Or debunk it entirely.

     An opportunity to simply know.

The animatronic raised an eyebrow. "Okay...what kind of things?"

"Like, oh, I dunno—him giving me a controlled shock."

     His world spun to a halt.

The bluntness of it skewered through him quicker than his mind could care to process.

   The code to punish them wasn't for anyone to take or learn. William prided himself in being the only one able to accomplish it. He had the input memorized, no longer written anywhere. Since their night guard knew...

     Virgil rattled his head.

     He must've gotten it some other way. Right?

     What was right?

"Wha..how—did...why..?" His racing mind could not simplify anything into words.

     Shadow Patton's face softened, venturing for an answer that would lift his bafflement.

"He tried to help..." Any indication of forgiveness dragged into bitterness. "...look how well that turned out."

     Virgil shifted in his seat.

Unease coiled around him, magnified and held tight. It festered within his being, gnawing away any peace of mind left.

"He got the notebook too easily, it shouldn't have been laying around for anyone to grab." The phantom reminded. "And he's still alive. Isn't that too good to be true?"

"Excuse you?"

Irritation sketched itself across a surreal face. Another outburst threatened to go off, but true to his word, the response came in a low growl.

"Someone nearly got murdered by us, then walked out of here just fine. 'Magically' healed."

And..?

The animatronic blinked, giving it a second thought.

Yeah, the puppet saved a life, what about it? All fine as long as no one else...knew....

     Wait, wait—

Now that he allowed himself to analyze it, the chances of Thomas lasting a full 24 hours after his near death experience were slim to none. The guard witnessed something he wasn't supposed to, and that always signaled an incoming tragedy. Too many disappearances and abrubt deaths were associated with coming to the restaurant, not enough reached the news.

     Here, ignorance protected you.

Virgil thrummed fingers on his knees. Faceplates shifted and clicked in exasperation.

"The point is—do you honestly think William's oblivious to what's going on?"

His heart would've skipped a beat if it were composed of flesh instead of dammed metal.

William encountered their guard the morning after his attempted murder, but didn't carry out what he started. Why? What was he planning? What if he already knew everything?!

A hysteria of thoughts lashed out, overwhelming him with gruesome commotion. One fear that used to creep around finally resurfaced as an evident truth. Its grave existence wouldn't detach from his head, wouldn't go away, wouldn't unveil itself to be a sick joke.

"Or is he allowing Thomas to live another day be—"

"Okay." Virgil hissed, welcoming a distorted voice of his own. "I get it."

Bright features morphed into a stunned expression.

     The creature dispersed into a shattered version of himself, lasting far longer than the usual interval of glitches.

He winced at its frenzied action.

When the body patched up, it hesitated to shift or talk. He eventually inclined on drifting close, lowering himself to 'sit' at a distance from the older individual. Their stage wasn't roomy enough, a leg clipped through the curtain, but it didn't seem to bother him.

    Familiar patterns sewn throughout memories tore into Virgil.

      Occasionally, sharing his worries drove another mind into a fearful disposition. The roles between nervous wreck and helper swapped. Patton's go-to method was to keep him company while trying to find a remedy of words. With levels of overthinking that rivaled each other's own, those quiet moments weren't always peaceful.

A soft, considerate voice didn't take long to speak again.

"I know it's not much, but you can't ignore details like this."

     Virgil flickered his gaze away from the ominous being.

"Hey," Illuminated orbs faced him, determined amongst a soothing tone. "I'm not gonna let anything bad happen again."

Its reassurance pushed a weight off the animatronic's chest, and his frantic mind slowed down a notch. Though appreciated, Virgil felt guilty for not calming down his friend first. And yet, the prevailing anxiety refused to leave him alone, it's focus pulled him to something else.

     One more detail.

"You should know..."

Inner locks unbolted from his torso. Chest plates swung open, he pulled out an item from its dark corners. The squarish remote glinted under the display of remaining spotlights.

     Shadow Patton widened his eyes, intrigued by the new gadget.

"Thomas gave this to me before he left."

     An insane connection struck him out of the blue. Not so much insane, but quite the possibility. It would explain why the night guard took precaution to not lose this. Reasonable enough, wasn't it?

"I think it's supposed to control... you?"

The phantom didn't speak at first. He became a frozen hologram in the room, until glitches crumbled his image.

An unstable arm reached for the item.

"I'll take care of that."

Broken figurations squirmed in the space above a metal palm. They drew close together, vibrating in sync until they reformed a child's hand. Jet-black fingertips sunk into the small remote.

Mechanical sputters broke out upon contact, a wisp of visible electricity flared, then nothing.

A crescent moon smile gleamed from him. "Now it doesn't work anymore."

—————————

10:50 am

"Hello? Hello?" Once the words mindlessly escaped his mouth, the employee cringed. He winced at the mistake, bit down an apologetic remark, then continued with the voicemail. "Your shift starts at 12 am. Power went off a while ago and it fucked shit up so the party's delayed 'til further notice. Boss said you don't need t'worry about one of the bots, he erased all previous instructions... 'kay, bye."

     He set down the bulky phone, unenthusiastic about calling the rest of afternoon coworkers and business people that couldn't be of service today. Plans to celebrate the restaurant's 10th anniversary were thrown out the window, and someone took it too personally.

     The blackout from earlier caused a lot of appliances to shut down, most ended up needing repair or replacement. It wasn't a pretty sight to see Mr. Afton outraged when he found out. And even though the pizzeria had to be closed for the day, everyone was welcome to overwork themselves to get the place functioning as soon as possible.

   His gaze wandered to a dimly glowing computer screen, where live camera feeds occasionally froze and glitched. The teenager leaned in, resting his chin on a palm as he kept a lookout for ghosts.

     Spirits roamed around here, now he knew for sure. A place he walked into almost everyday had faces behind the walls. Did they mind their own business? Were they stuck here, doomed to watch the world grow up without them? Ever hurt anyone?

     The last thought made him stop and check over his shoulder.

Well, he wouldn't be with 'em for much longer. After his shift ended, he'd be home free. Paycheck would come in the mail, then he'd call quits. Until some other job hired him, a comfy pocket of time awaited him: chatting with friends, afternoon naps, hours of video games—

"Kitchen!" A lady's voice snapped him back to the present moment. Her words grew faint as she walked past the office door. "Whenever you're done, you're going to the kitchen. Got it?"

"Yeah!"

      The last boss liked to give everyone instructions on sticky notes, but this one was obsessed with making up orders on the spot, not to mention sending out people to deliver his orders. Finished one thing? Great, now work over there.

It was gonna be a long day.

————————————

9:04 pm

The same hyper awareness that existed in lucid dreaming swamped his mind.

     It could've been a scenario playing in his head. A daydream that went too far. In any other case, he'd have the luxury of control, the ability to rearrange its course or snap out of it.

     Shallow breathing engulfed his lungs. He couldn't change anything about this reality unfolding.

Calm, patient words floated by. Almost meaningless things that clarified themselves, even thanked Thomas for showing up at all. Everything sounded rehearsed. Inauthentic.

"...I apologize for changing plans on very short notice. But since you're here, I could use your assistance."

     He didn't receive any memo about the cancelled event, not with his shattered phone.

He spent hours going over performance instructions, most engrained into his head to the point where he muttered them out loud while driving over. Another wrong move, and a situation like Patton's risked to occur in front of a live crowd. Despite arriving to a near empty parking lot, he thought it wouldn't have hurt to check if the place was closed, if anything serious happened, if the kids were alright.

And now he was stuck here.

"Sure..." His throat constricted, tone veering from nonchalant to brittle. "What can I help with?"

     A satisfied grin took over the older man's face. He turned heel and walked away, gesturing for the night guard to follow.

"A small task. I believe your talents suit the job."

     Thomas grimaced, then trailed from a few feet behind.

The weather wasn't icy yet, but his manager was bundled up in a coat. Perfect opportunity to stash a weapon underneath an outfit like that and slaughter an unsuspecting victim.

They came up to the arcade room, where gaming stands had been switched out for bulkier versions: late 90's, early 00's technology at a glance.

     Why the downgrade?

William Afton broke away from him, approaching one machine to give a tap on its black screen. "They frizzed out earlier. I've tried repairing them, but it's no good. Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes can catch a problem I'm not seeing."

The words sunk in between dragged out seconds.

     Did...he need to do something?

     Thomas pretended to inspect the nearest stand.

Out of the fog infiltrating his mind, a fraction of reasoning snapped into place: mechanical engineering was one of his skills, notable enough to be written on a resume. As manager, William must've accessed further information about every employee.

     And the latter's stare didn't flicker away from him. Quietly standing, waiting...

      Waiting for what?

     He looked away, keeping his face neutral. Distress accumulated as he replayed the nearly one-sided conversation. Task? Frizzed out? Was the guy implying that he needed help to reboot the video games?

A response formed on the tip of his tongue. He could say it. He knew he could say it, but subconscious forces clamped his mouth shut, like being quiet was the correct option.

If he misspoke, hesitated, stammered...it'd be his last slip-up.

Thomas bottled up the wary instinct, and said as casually as he could, "I'll see what I can do."

     A short, unbearable pause followed.

"Excellent." Mr. Afton disclosed. He left the room with a less than reassuring: "I'll come back."

     A cold sweat sank into the employe.

Oh crap.

     Next victim, next disappearance, real death. This was it.

The hushed ambience acted as a final warning. If working here taught him anything, it was that peace and quiet never lasted long.

He had to do something before all hell broke lose.

     Maybe with the proper adrenaline rush to give his strength a boost, he could knock the man unconscious and report him to the police. No, slim chance at that. His aim wasn't good. Missing the target worked out in his favor before, but it wasn't worth gambling over. Plus, wrong point of impact would mean breaking his own hand.

     Thomas found himself stepping past the doorway, to scan the hallways, to maybe go a little further and—

No. No more running.

     He paced around the room. Answer after answer, scenario after scenario, he couldn't think of the best thing to do. What action to take if everything went downhill. Which option out of the dozens spilling from his panicked brain would guarantee survival. Because the kinds of—

     The clip-clap of shoes treading on polished tiles manifested nearby.

     Every muscle tensed up.

Steps droned on, building clarity as they approached.

      The longer he held still, the further a numbing illusion glazed over him. He envisioned a phone laying on the ground, a sound wave visualizer animated on its screen, depicting noises he begged would go away. Volume ticked up, set on amounting his terror to new levels. It brought strange comfort, he wouldn't have to worry about anything if it was all in his head.

Until a figure appeared.

     William's gloved hand held out a flashlight. "You'll need this."

He froze up.

Like a deer in the headlights, he stared at his incoming doom.

His perception began to unhinge. The walls, floor, building, people: they were here. But at the same time, everything seemed out of touch. Reality pulled him away from the equation, adapting Thomas into a lost presence merely observing the setting. Deprived of senses. Like he wasn't here.

And it remained far too long.

Faint confusion emitted from William. "Would you rather work in the low light?"

     Simple question. Yet, the lack of an earnest pitch made it dwell uncomfortably.

Snap out