Mike pulled into the lot early, same as every morning. Neighboring businesses were still dark. Employee cars were already there, lights on inside.
He'd been coming here for weeks. Learning the layout and meeting the staff. None of it was official—just prep work. He got out and walked inside.
The building still had that new-construction look. Fresh paint on the walls. The kitchen was already preparing pizzas. Nancy was already moving through the back hallways with her clipboard. She was the manager—sharp, efficient, the kind of person who didn't need to raise her voice to get things done. Dominic, her assistant, stood near the stage, checking something on a clipboard of his own.
Mike didn't need to follow either of them. He knew his route.
He ended up near the prize counter, checking the shelves and helping out where needed. The dining room was already prepped. Tables wiped. Chairs straight. Nothing left to do but wait.
Ralph found him there, coffee in hand.
"First official day. You ready?"
"Thrilled." Mike didn't look up from sweeping the floor.
Ralph leaned against the counter, in no hurry to leave. "You've been here, what, three weeks now?"
"Something like that."
He took a sip. "I've been working with the company since the first Freddy's location. I do the training tapes and phone calls. They nicknamed me the Phone Guy." He laughed a little. "Which is funny, I guess. Anyway. You get used to interesting things after a while. This location's nice, though. Clean. Good stage setup. The robots are really something, aren't they? The engineering. Very impressive."
Mike glanced toward the stage. Freddy and the others just stood there looking ahead at nothing in particular. "Yeah. They're something."
Ralph didn't seem to notice the edge in his voice. "I'm finally starting to get busy because Nancy just recently hired a night guard who is going to be starting tonight. Maxine. Nancy wants me to record a message for her before I leave. Basic stuff. Navigating the building at night. The free-roam mode—how it works, why they do it. Cameras. Doors. Power limits." He took another sip. "Should be pretty straightforward."
Mike didn't respond. Straightforward. Right. Six hours in a dark room with nothing but a monitor and two doors. He remembered how straightforward that was; it was unfortunate that he didn't get the special treatment of having doors in the previous location.
Ralph must have taken his silence for doubt. "I mean, it's not exactly exciting. Mostly, you sit there and watch the cameras. Make sure the robots don't wander into anything they shouldn't. It's quiet. Boring, even." He shrugged. "She'll be fine."
"You don't sound sure."
"I'm always a little nervous on opening day." He laughed, a little too high. "Big day. A lot is happening. But everything's been running smoothly. Nothing to worry about."
Ralph lingered, like he was hoping Mike might say something else. Mike didn't. "Anyway." He cleared his throat. "Good luck with today; the first days are always easy and pretty straightforward."
"Can't wait."
Ralph hesitated, still not sure if Mike was joking. Mike didn't clarify. Ralph walked off. The same voice from that phone call six years ago. Still sounding as nervous as usual. Mike couldn't tell if it was a good thing Ralph didn't recognize his voice.
Mike finished checking the shelves and moved on, walking the route he'd walked every morning for weeks. Past the dining room with its empty tables and wrapped party hats. Past the restrooms. Down the back hallway toward the storage areas.
The safe room door looked like part of the wall. Mike knew it was there. He'd been inside there multiple times now. The fake wall was for what they claim are budget reasons—cheaper to seal it off than to wire it into the security system. The room off the blueprints and out of the animatronics' programming for whatever reason mostly gets used for storage.
The Spring Bonnie suit was sitting in the corner. Very old and worn out with faded yellow fur, frayed stitching, and half an ear missing. The cage was visible through the gaps in the fabric; springs rusted at the edges. It didn't make sense as to why they still kept this. It was, according to them, the suit someone had used at the previous location. The one that set the animatronics off, and yet they are still keeping it here just out of sight.
He didn't stop. The old Spring Bonnie suit wasn't his biggest concern right now. He had other things to deal with.
Back in the dining room, the stage lights were up. Freddy stood ready at his microphone. Bonnie's guitar hung from its strap. Chica held the pink cupcake in her hand, its plastic eyes blinking. The cupcake was animatronic now. That was new. Foxy's curtain was closed, the servos humming behind it. Everything in place, it was only a matter of time before Foxy could put on a good show for everyone.
Greg was at his laptop near the backstage door, watching the readouts. Mike stopped on his way past. Just behind Greg sat something under a dusty tarp. Mike had seen it during training but never cared enough to ask what it was.
Greg glanced up, saw where Mike was looking. "Don't bother with those animatronics; they're not part of the show. Got built, then the plans changed. Now they just sit there." He snorted.
Mike didn't respond. Greg went back to his screen.
Nancy caught him near the arcade. "Hey. Walk to the emergency exits. Make sure they're clear. The fire marshal's been strict."
Mike made the rounds. The exit near the loading dock was clear. The one off the back hallway was fine. No obstructions. Everything up to code. He reported back to Nancy, who checked something off her clipboard and looked slightly less nervous.
The clock ticked closer to ten. Mike straightened a few pieces of merchandise and made sure it looked promising enough for people to buy. Derek adjusted his apron for the third time. Susan counted her register twice. The kitchen doors swung open and closed as Maria and multiple other chefs walked in and out.
Nancy appeared near the entrance, checking the front doors one last time. "Five minutes. Everyone in position."
The staff shifted. Derek took his spot near the arcade. Susan straightened her register.
Mike found a spot near the back of the dining room. He could see everything from where he stood, the tables, the stage, the restricted areas.
Nancy's voice carried across the dining room. "Alright. Three... two... one... Showtime."
She unlocked the front doors and pushed them open. The crowd outside surged forward—families, kids, parents with strollers. A line had formed before sunrise. Freddy's wasn't just a pizzeria. It was a brand.
The dining room filled in minutes. Kids bolted for the stage. Parents claimed tables. The arcade lit up. The kitchen doors swung open, and a wave of noise followed—orders being called, timers going off, the clatter of pans.
Mike stood near the back, watching the chaos unfold. For half a second, he thought he saw a small child standing at the far end of the room watching him. Then a parent walked past, and the spot was empty. Just the crowd. Just his eyes playing tricks.
Freddy's head turned in a slow, steady sweep across the dining room, his eyes catching the light. Bonnie's head tilted toward the nearest table, his gaze landing just above the children's heads. Chica's beak opened for the first song, the cupcake's eyes moving around and blinking.