Just Another Day at Adventure Park

An original one-shot by: DeltaV

Based on an idea by KamikazeRebel

Baron von Pizzä felt himself be jostled about inside the delivery truck that had arrived two days after Pizza Baron was shut down. He and the other members of the Pizza Baron Band, Maxwell and Drake, were strapped to dollies and wheeled into the back, all on standby. As a result, the three of them could see, hear, and feel motion, but couldn't react to it in any way. It was a bizarre experience, one they had to learn to get used to with their newly-found sentience. Foxy and the others had left that same night, although Nathan returned to ensure they were going to be taken care of. His friend Daphne oversaw operations at Adventure Park, their new home.

Adventure Park was rather new, as far as amusement parks went, only being about a decade old, and it was fairly popular with the surrounding cities, keeping it successful and capable of adding new attractions. The basic principle for the attraction that the Pizza Baron gang would be repurposed for what was a mixture of a world culture showcase and a time travel adventure, named "Globetrotter." In an incredibly convenient coincidence, there were openings for all members of the Band, and required very little changes on their part, just replacing their script.

Baron rattled again as the truck hit another bump, bouncing slightly on its loose suspension. The back of the truck was nearly pitch-black, and their night-vision (it had been unanimously decided among the robotics community that that particular function was necessary) did not function when in stand-by, but Baron could just barely make out the forms of Maxwell and Drake in the blackness.

I wonder what this place will be like, Baron thought.

"Alright, back it on up," came the voice of one of the workers. A steady beep, beep, beep sounded as the truck reversed into its parking spot in front of the maintenance access for Adventure Park. It was basically a large warehouse that stored a whole manner of bits and bobs for when rides inevitably broke down, and also served as the central hub for any construction, due to its large parking lot and easy road access.

The back of the truck filled with sunlight as the cargo door slid upwards into its housing, and Baron was wheeled out and into the warehouse. Most of the animatronics for the "Globetrotter" ride were being stored here, their programs being created and loaded as needed. From the few that Baron could see, it was obvious there was a certain lack of quality. Proportions would be odd, faces lacking any real emotion, and were overall just… older and creepier. They were all animals, though, and dressed in various costumes representing different countries and time periods.

"These three are nice!" a worker said, commenting on how they looked almost brand new. "These are New Wave ones, right?"

One of the other workers from the truck, a woman, nodded, "Yep. From that Pizza Baron place that never got off the ground. Probably've only done a few shows."

Sadly, that's true, Baron thought to himself.

"Whoa, these are the newest models!" the previous worker said as he examined Maxwell's inner workings. The woman from the truck shrugged.

"So?"

"So that means these things have a basic A.I. built right in! They can talk to guests and such, and have an independent power supply mounted in their torsos. Let's turn this one on!" the worker began eagerly flipping switches inside Maxwell's skull. The woman stopped him.

"Not now, Chip! These guys have to get set up in the ride! Play with them later," she ordered. Chip sighed.

"Fine," he said, and closed Maxwell's access hatch. Baron watched as the three of them were wheeled through the parks' backstage. A rollercoaster thundered overhead, startling him.

What was that thing? He wondered, the screams coming from it worrying him, Drake must be feeling even worse than I. I hope we get to where we're going soon.

"Jeez, these things are heavy!" Chip complained, puffing as he wheeled Drake into his scene.

Much like in Pizza Baron, it featured a castle, of which Drake was the knight for. He was set up in a throne room where a king character would sit, had that animatronic been delivered. For now, he had the large space to himself.

Meanwhile, Maxwell had been set up on a sort of stage representing the United States. He wasn't alone, acting as one of several supporting characters for the Uncle Sam bald eagle in the center. The worker that had wheeled him in gently uncurled his fingers and grabbed his keytar.

"Don't need this thing anymore," he said, and walked out of Maxwell's line of sight with the instrument.

Hey! That was mine! Maxwell thought. He waited for the worker to return. He did not. Inwardly, the wolf-dog robot frowned. I guess I gotta look for it.

In the middle of the ride's track sat Baron von Pizzä's display. He seemed to be the main character, being the closest to the display's edge, possibly due to the quality of his construction. He too was unable to keep his original instrument, but that didn't trouble him that much. What really did was the fact that they were separated. He had been unable to see where Maxwell and Drake were taken, and while he figured they weren't in any danger, it made him anxious just the same. Hopefully they could find out soon.

He was distracted from his thoughts by two passing workers, identified by their bright orange coveralls, who were both deep in conversation.

"They say the programming isn't finished yet. We're gonna be delayed at least a day or two," one said.

"Damn it! The owner isn't going to be happy," the other replied. The first worker shrugged.

"Not much Scott can do at this point. Other than wait," he said.

"I guess, but you'd think they'd-," the two passed out of the range of Baron's audio receptors.

Programming? Hrmm. I wish Nathan were here to explain things, Baron thought, and waited.

Dalton sat in the waiting room of Adventure Park's offices, talking on a cellphone. Whatever the other person was saying seemed to annoy him, as he ran a hand through his dark blonde hair.

"Broski, the fans love your writing! Stop being a baby and hurry up and get that draft done," he listened to the other person's response.

"What the hell? You're writing a seventh book, and you didn't tell me? You're holding out on me, Broski," Dalton asked incredulously. "I thought you were whining about the sixth one still! Alright, give me the details. What's the plot of this one? …Yeah? …Ok, so? …Wait, what? Hold up, what about the original plan you told me, the, uh… making the uh, thee, uh… stupid english… guard the murderer? Hell no I don't want you to write me into this stupid thing! You won't capture my character and make me die, that's why." Dalton looked up as a door opened and the receptionist appeared, giving him a nod.

"Look, I gotta go. No, this is going on too long, I have stuff to do. Just… just write the damn thing, I don't care. Bye." Dalton hung up, giving the receptionist a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. My friend's a writer, and I help him out. Is something wrong?" he asked. The receptionist shook her head.

"No, no, it's just that Mr. Walker wants to interview you himself," the receptionist explained, and pushed the door open wider, "Follow me, please."

"So… You want a job, huh?" Mr. Walker asked, leaning over his desk and studying Dalton intensely. Dalton reeled back.

"Uh… yeah…" he said. Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes, and leaned back slowly.

"Says here you used to work at Freddy Fazbear's. For one night, before you quit. Why?"

"It, um, they, uh… It was just too creepy, with all the rumors and stuff, it was messing with my head," Dalton lied, adhering to the nondisclosure agreement he signed. He paled at the memory. Somehow, Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes even further, his wrinkled face scrunching up.

"I see…" he said. He stared at Dalton for a few seconds more before turning his chair around.

"Alright, you're hired. Shift goes from closing to five in the morning. Don't be late," he said. Dalton smiled in relief and went to pick up his uniform from the security office. He met his supervisor, Jeremy Fitzgerald. The middle-aged man was dressed in security officer attire already, carried a clipboard, and was still physically fit. He walked over, a limp evident in his step.

"You must be the new guy. I'm Jeremy," he said, offering a hand. Dalton took it, shaking.

"Dalton."

"I heard you worked at Freddy's," Jeremy said with a grin.

"Yeah," Dalton confirmed, "For a night." Jeremy nodded in what seemed like sympathy and led Dalton to his locker.

"I worked for them too. It's funny, it seems everyone that joins the Fazbear Family meets up with each other," Jeremy said, and opened a locker that lacked a nametag, "I guess it's because Freddy's has a reputation. Anyway, here's your uniform, belt, keys, torch, everything you need. We'll get a name on that door later. Let's see… what shift you working?"

Jeremy looked at the clipboard, and chuckled.

"How about that, you're on the graveyard with me. Probably intentional, getting the Fazbear guys together," Jeremy said.

"You work a shift? But you're the supervisor," Dalton pointed out. Jeremy shrugged.

"I'm a hands-on kind of guy," he said, "I can show you the ropes. We've got two other guys with us, all around the park, and a new ride under construction that management wants kept safe. We'll set up our patrols and the like when our shift starts." His radio crackled.

"Jeremy?" a voice on the other end asked.

"One second," he told Dalton, and lifted the radio to his mouth, "Go for Fitzgerald."

"Hey Jeremy, we're getting people complaining about a guy who keeps taking pictures of other guests with a high-power camera near Kiddy Land. They're getting creeped out," the radio said. Jeremy sighed, then pressed the transmit key.

"Alright, I'm on my way," he said, and turned back to Dalton. "Sorry, duty calls. I'll see you at the start of your shift." Jeremy walked determinedly away, limping on his left foot. Dalton watched him leave, rubbing the back of his head.

"What are the chances… another Freddy's guard," he said to himself, and checked his watch. Three hours until his shift started. Good thing he was in the middle of an amusement park.

Three Hours Later

"Servus, Mr. Fitzgerald," Dalton said, walking into the locker room. Jeremy was already present, changing the batteries on his radio. He looked up and smirked.

"Ser-vus? You're German?" Jeremy asked.

"No, I'm learning in college," Dalton replied.

"Ah, okay. And just call me Jeremy," he said, "We're not that formal here."

"Alrighty then," Dalton replied, and changed into his gray uniform, shoving the black ball cap on his head and pinning his badge to his chest. He chuckled, and looked at it.

"Heh. I are sheriff," he said to himself. Fully dressed, he stepped back and checked out his appearance. Jeremy had moved to wait by the door, leaning against the wall.

"Looking sharp," he commented, and waved Dalton over, "Alright, let's get going. Jennifer and Charlie are at the other side of the park. You're just tagging along with me tonight. We keep the lights on, so it's not so bad. Our job is basically to make sure no one stuck around after hours or broke in." The two both walked out into the park, Jeremy leading the way.

Adventure Park closed at 11:00 on weekdays, and the park itself was divided into different themed areas, much like Disneyland or similar venues. There was the Main Hub, simply referred to as "The Hub," which housed the business side, several restaurants, first aid services, the security headquarters, and other essentials. It wasn't themed, but the buildings were painted cheery colors.

On the Eastern side of the park sat Thrill Ville, which was dedicated to all things adrenaline pumping. Here was where you could find the fastest roller coaster, the tallest drop rides, and other stomach churning, heart-pounding attractions. It was styled much like the "hot rodding" culture, with a lot of diamond plating and flames.

To the North sat Futuristica, a sort of science-fiction area dealing with more of the simulator and interactive rides, all set with a idealistic vision of what the future might be like. Then to the West was the most popular "land": Kiddy Land. This is what Adventure Land had started out as, before growing out into the other themes to try and broaden their appeal. It was also where the new ride was being set up. It hosted a cast of animatronic animal characters, and had gentle rides that ranged from a train to junior roller coasters, as well as dark rides like "Globetrotter." It was also the biggest in terms of ride count, since it was older. This is where Jeremy and Dalton were headed.

Dalton checked his watch, reading a glowing green 11:52. He had been wandering around Kiddy Land by himself, pointing his flashlight around at the darkened scenery and rides. It was a little bit creepy, with all of the frozen animatronics staring out with unblinking eyes and almost sinister grins. It brought back memories of his single night at Freddy's.

Meanwhile, Sir Drake sat idle, mentally complaining about everything in front of him. He, above the other two, took the most pride in Pizza Baron. It was his kingdom, and as a knight he felt he had failed to protect it. And now he had been moved to this new place, under a new "king." Yes, Trout wound up being a very terrible person, but the kind of loyalty Drake had couldn't be transferred that easily. Unless they reprogrammed him, which was a possibility. But until that day came, all Drake had available was to sit in wait in this dingy castle, staring out at a concrete moat, until someone came by later to figure out what to do with-

Click. Whirr….

A series of clacks sounded, and Drake suddenly found he could move his body again. He tested out each motor, moving his limbs this way and that, to ensure nothing had been damaged from the ride and installation.

He reached some difficulty with his feet, however, finding metal clamps arching over them, anchoring him in place. He pulled against, and felt the bolts start to give slightly, having been a temporary solution to ensure Drake didn't fall over. The knight pulled harder, and with a crack the wooden floor gave way and the anchor went flying, skittering into the dried up moat. Drake repeated this with his other foot, and then, his freedom of movement restored, began to search for the others.

"Sir Baron?" he called out, "Where doth thou be?" Drake's deep voice echoed through the half-built ride. A voice called back.

"Drake?" it was Maxwell, and from the sound of it, seemed to be coming down from an open doorway. It was a maintenance entrance, making it easier for workers to go from area to area without having to go through the entire route of the ride. This particular doorway lead to the ending, and Maxwell's stage.

"Squire Maxwell!" Drake said, "I hath never thought I'd say this, but it be good to see you." Maxwell smiled.

"Thanks, buddy! But I've got a problem," he explained, "Some guy took my keytar. You have to help me find it." Sir Drake imitated a sigh.

"Curse thine infernal instrument. Very well, which way did the rogue go?" Drake asked, crossing his arms. Maxwell pointed towards a doorway set behind the stage.

"Through there," Maxwell said, and moved to walk towards it, but found himself stopped by the same anchors Drake had faced. With two sharp tugs, Maxwell yanked them out of the floor. Drake started walking through the doorway.

"Follow me," he said, "I shall lead." The knight's stride became one of confidence, Maxwell keeping up and looking around curiously.

"Whoa," he said with fascination, "What exactly is this place?" Drake shrugged.

"I do not know," he replied simply.

The two robots entered the incomplete ride's maintenance passages, instantly noticing the lack of happy coloring on the walls, floors, and ceiling. They soldiered on, and eventually found a closed door. Maxwell walked up to it.

"Do you think it's behind here?" he asked Drake.

"Methinks it be worth a try," Drake said, and Maxwell reached for the doorknob, giving it a twist and pulling the door open.

Inside were several props for the ride, mainly things like chalices, tools, and other things to serve as extra scenery, but no musical instruments.

"Guess we better check somewhere else," Maxwell said, and turned to leave. Drake was about to follow, but spied a familiar hilt poking out from a box. He darted over and grabbed it, pulling out his fake broadsword.

"By my troth, mine sword!" he cheered, and gave it a few swishes, making sure it wasn't damaged.

"Alright!" Maxwell said, "Maybe we can find my keytar next!" Drake nodded, and again led the way, sword held high.

The pair went door to door, but couldn't find a room that appeared to be for musical instruments, most of them being dedicated to tools, set pieces, and the like. So they kept walking, trying doors, and just exploring in general. Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor, and upon opening that door found themselves standing in front of a colorful backdrop.

The buildings were either part of the backdrop or a façade of which there was no interior. They had the appearance of an old Germanic themed wattle and daub town house, with a white painted front with wooden crisscrossing on top of it. The proportions had a cartoon-esque exaggeration, and used the method of forced perspective to appear taller than they actually were. The background was of a beautiful sunny day, no clouds, and blue skies. And directly in the center of it was Baron, who smiled upon seeing them.

"Guten tag mein friends!" he greeted, German accent still going strong, "I trust you are all vell?"

"Aye, we be fine," Drake replied.

"Not exactly, I still can't find my keytar!" Maxwell reminded. Baron's eyes widened.

"Vell, ve can't have that!" he said, and pulled against the foot anchors, tearing up their nails, "Let's see vhat ve can find."

Baron led on from there, head swiveling as he searched this way and that for Maxwell's cherished instrument. The journey carried them through the ride's entire layout, until eventually they arrived at the skeletal construction of the station, where riders boarded their vehicles.

"It doesn't seem to be anywhere," Maxwell said sadly. Baron put a hand on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Drake looked around, paying particular interest into what he could see through the gaps.

"What sort of land is this?" he asked, picking up a discarded hammer, "What do they be constructing?"

"Who knows?" Baron said, "But ve seemed to be involved. Come, Maxwell, I'm sure your keytar is around her somevhere."

But Maxwell became equally curious as to the purpose of the structure. He stepped out of the moat, climbed into the queue line and turned back to the others.

"I think this leads somewhere. C'mon, let's go check it out!" Maxwell urged. Baron shook his head.

"I don't think so, Maxwell, ve have to stay vhere ve vere placed," Baron countered. Drake spoke up.

"Wouldn't getting the lay of this land be most beneficial?" he asked, "It shan't harm us." Baron hesitated as he considered the dragon's argument. He had a point, they had no idea where they were. Nathan hadn't explained much after having to deal with Foxy's rescue.

"Alright, I agree. Lead the way, Max," Baron said, and stepped up into the queue line, following as the wolf-dog strode curiously into the night.

Dalton and Jeremy had split up, going around the Kiddy Land area. Policy demanded searching the interior of the rides, which were only lit up by their emergency lights. He could still see, just not as well as he might have liked. The frozen animatronics in the rides were unnerving, and memories of his unsuccessful first night at Freddy's came fluttering back.

Suddenly, the sound of what sounded like people talking drifted across the night.

"Whoa, what do you think that is?" came one voice, sounding younger and higher pitched.

"I don't know. Maybe ve could find someone to ask?" came a second, a German accent weighing down the words.

"Methinks not," came a second, which sounded like a deep-voiced Shakespeare, "There is quite obviously no one about."

From the topic of whatever conversation they seemed to be having, it was clear that they were not employees of the park. Dalton grabbed his radio from his belt and lifted it to his face.

"Hey Jeremy, I got some people over here," he reported.

"Well, if they don't seem like they're going to stab you, just flash your badge and ask them to leave," Jeremy radioed back, "I'll start heading your way if you need some backup."

"Copy that. I guess," Dalton replied, and headed for the source of the voices.

The sound led him to the new ride, which was currently surrounded by temporary fencing and the usual "Pardon Our Dust!" signs. There was a lot of construction equipment laying around, such as ladders, lumber, sheet metal, wiring, generators, portable floodlights for night shifts, hammers, drills, et cetera. But no sign of the source of the voices, which had gone quiet when he peered in.

Dalton clicked on his flashlight and ventured into the site, keeping a slow pace to avoid hurting himself. A distant creak could be heard behind him, and he snapped his flashlight beam to illuminate the source. Nothing.

"Hello?" he called out, "You're trespassing on private property!" There was no response.

Dalton stared nervously at the spot for a few more seconds, then continued deeper into the worksite, shining his flashlight left and right. Odd shadows were formed from the various machinery and scaffolding, and several times the guard jumped at what he thought was a silhouette of something, only to discover it belonged to a shovel and a crate or things of that sort. Then a voice sounded, close, from Dalton's left.

"Hey, who's that?" it was the youthful sounding voice.

"I think that man works here. Hallo? Herr?" the German voice called out. Dalton recognized the words. They were directed at him.

"Who's there?" Dalton asked, and approached the sound.

"At last, a servant of this odd kingdom," the "Medieval Times"-esque voice said with relief, "We have been having the greatest of difficulties finding where we are."

Dalton rounded a large piece of scaffolding, from which behind it seemed the voices originated from.

"I'm a guard, and I'm afraid y'all are gonna have to-," Dalton's sentence was cut off as his flashlight illuminated who had been speaking.

Standing in front of him, eyes glowing a shade of white around their pupils, were three animatronics. In the center stood what appeared to be a German shepherd, dressed in lederhosen and a Bavarian style hat. At the dog's left, and slightly in front, stood a green-scaled dragon sporting the chest piece and helmet of a knight, and carrying a sword in its right hand. On the shepherd's right, holding up a power drill, was another dog, although the breed wasn't immediately distinguishable. It had a grayish color, and wore a bandana around its neck. Three animatronics, acting just like the ones at Freddy's. Dalton dropped the flashlight.

"Nope," he said to himself, and immediately began running in the opposite direction, "Nope, nope, no, no, nope, no!"

"Wait!" cried the young-sounding voice, and a rapid set of heavy footsteps began to follow the panicked guard, "Where are you going?"

"Maxwell!" came the Germanic voice, and a new set of footsteps joined in.

"By my troth," the Ye Olden English voice muttered, and more footsteps sounded.

Dalton kept running through the near-pitch black construction site, obstacles in his path barely illuminated. He finally found the exit, catching a corner of fencing as he ran, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. The breedless dog animatronic was right behind him, and skidded to a stop, looking at the fallen guard with concern.

"You okay?" it asked, tilting its head to the left. Dalton said nothing and began scrambling backwards. Soon the other two animatronics arrived at the scene, the dragon watching his actions with contempt.

"I say, ye are acting quite deplorably. On your feet with you," it said, before walking over and hoisting Dalton upward by the front of his uniform. It nodded in approval and stepped back, arms crossed. "Much more acceptable." Dalton began backing away, until the German shepherd held up a hand.

"Stop," it commanded, with such an air of authority Dalton found himself complying, "Vhy are you running away?"

"It, um, I, uh… what?" Dalton stammered, legs trembling slightly. The wolf-dog (Dalton finally saw the mix) frowned.

"Something's got him spooked," it observed. The shepherd's face immediately showed concern.

"Vhat's wrong?" it asked, and looked around, "Is something happening?"

"Y-yeah, I guess you could say that," Dalton replied, inching backwards again. The shepherd tilted his head slightly.

"It's us, isn't it? You're afraid of us, aren't you?" it asked, confused. Dalton simply nodded. The wolf-dog grinned.

"You don't have to be scared! Hi, I'm Max, what's your name?" Maxwell said, extending out a paw. Dalton stared at it. Maxwell shook it slightly, "C'mon, pal, put 'er there!" Dalton slowly reached out and grabbed the offered paw, which immediately closed around his hand in a vice-like grip, nearly crushing it. Dalton shouted out in pain, and Maxwell immediately let go.

"Shoot, sorry! I haven't done that before!" he apologized. Dalton clutched his throbbing hand with his other one.

"Gah, son of a bitch, ow," he said, sucking air through his teeth, "Ya need practice."

"Is your hand okay?" Max asked, trying to look at it through the hand cradling it.

"I think so. Just hurts."

"You're not still scared, are you?"

"To be honest, I am a little bit," Dalton said honestly, disarmed by Maxwell's innocent tone, "What… are you, exactly?" The German shepherd stepped forward at the question.

"New Vave Robotics Intellitronic Model 808, Character designation 'Baron von Pizzä'," Baron replied robotically, eyes unfocused, before blinking and looking at Dalton, "But please, call me Baron."

"I am Sir Drake, of Pizza Bar-," Drake seemed to catch himself, "Unallianced." The last word was said in an almost melancholic tone.

"And I'm Maxwell, but you knew that already!" Maxwell said happily. Dalton nodded.

"Alrighty then," he said, rubbing the back of his hand, "If y'all ain't gonna hurt me, I guess we're okay…"

"Now, can you answer some questions of ours?" Baron asked.

"Sure."

"Vhere are ve, exactly?"

Dalton explained that the three robots must have been intended to be used in the ride that was currently being built. They seemed to vaguely understand what they were doing, and acknowledged their new roles. The three also told the story of how they became sentient, of Pizza Baron, and what happened to Foxy. Dalton shuddered when they mentioned Christina.

"I knew they were trouble," he said.

"What did that mean, anyway?" Maxwell asked, but they were interrupted by Jeremy calling out.

"Dalton? You okay over here?" The guard walked, slight limp visible, around the corner of the construction site. He stopped, staring at the animatronics. An awkward several second silence hung, until Jeremy broke it.

"I see," he said simply, "And what're your stories?"

The animatronics told their story for the second time, Jeremy listening silently, occasionally nodding, and after they finished, stood with his hand on his chin, deep in thought.

"Well, alright," he said, looking up.

"Alright what?" Baron asked.

"Alright, I get it," Jeremy replied.

"And exactly what doth thou 'get'?" Drake asked.

"Well, you guys have Fazbear tech in you. Guess that's why you're acting the way you are. I used to work for them, so I understand a little bit about how that works. Every night at midnight the Free Roam program or whatever it's called starts up, and you can walk around freely," Jeremy explained, more for Dalton's benefit than anyone else's, "And at six you'll go back into… sleep mode or whatever it is. It's not that big of a deal."

"It's not?" Dalton asked the senior guard. He shook his head.

"Nope. All we have to do is just keep them away from the rest of the guards at night, since they probably won't be too happy about this. Other than that, aside from making sure they get back to the ride in time, it's business as usual," Jeremy said.

"You're rather calm about all this," Baron observed. Jeremy shrugged.

"I spent two years disarming bombs," he said, "Can't get much more stressful than that." Dalton arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"You were an EOD tech? Whoa. You have to have, like, the biggest balls," Dalton said. Again, Jeremy shrugged.

"It's not that special. And also, ew," he said, and checked his watch. "You guys have a couple hours. Dalton, you're officially responsible for them. Make sure they follow the plan and stay away from the rest of the guards. I'll help you out, but if I linger around they might ask questions. Good luck."

With that, Jeremy walked away to patrol other areas of the park. Dalton and the animatronics stood around awkwardly, the guard putting his hands on his hips and looking around. Only then did it click where he was.

"Oh my God, it's Kiddy Land!" he said, a stupid grin on his face. Baron, Maxwell, and Drake looked at him in confusion at his random outburst. Suddenly, Max stepped forward.

"Can you help me find my keytar?"

A/N: Hey howdy hey readers, writers, and FBI informants. I'm back! And let me be the first (and probably only) person to welcome you to the "Just Another Night at Freddy's" Custom Night (or the Night Formerly Known as Seven). With that little bit out of the way, let me explain to you exactly what this means.

*ACTUALLY READ THIS IT'S IMPORTANT*

Have you ever wanted something to happen in "Just Another Night at Freddy's," only to be disappointed that I never read your mind?

Do you have a totally awesome/badass/radical/cool/ballin'/swagalicious/dope idea for a story?

Do you have an original one-shot set in the JANaF universe, but didn't want to upload it for fear of rejection by your fellow peers and/or authority figures? (Or you simply didn't want to make an account?)

Are you tired of these really passive-aggressive questions?

Well, dear reader, Night Seven is for you! That's right, this is a night that in which none of the premises for these stories are mine, where the next story is written by you! (not literally, unless you submit a one-shot)

"But wait a minute DeltaV, isn't this just a cop-out because you're running out of ideas?" I hear you say. Well let me clear that up right now!

Yes.

Now then, let's switch out of this italicized font for the rules:

Rules

-MUST be set in the Just Another Night at Freddy's universe (for obvious reasons).

-CANNOT be a crossover with anything not related to Five Nights at Freddy's.

-CAN include OC's, but understand that they will be my interpretation based on intel you give me

-CANNOT involve pairings. I do not ship, I'm a pilot. (Real reason: I'm TERRIBLE at romance. It serves you just as much as me).

-MUST BE A ONE-SHOT, NO SAGAS

-*CANNOT RELATE TO FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S 3* (Why? Night Eight)

-KEEP it ground in reality, at least a little bit. No aliens, demons, angels, zombies, vampires, werewolves (Lycanwriter777 took that idea anyway), Lovecraftian creatures, any form of apocalypse, the Spirits of the Dead Children, space travel, time travel, underwater travel, impromptu fully choreographed musical numbers, size changing, sex changing, uneven tire wear, real magicians, Vegas magicians, wizards, witches, warlocks, dwarves, Hobbits, one does not simply walk into Mordor, random pregnancies, planned pregnancies, getting turned into babies, getting turned into organic creatures, random bullshit, organized bullshit, bread, eggs, breaded eggs, milk, squick, you lost the game, never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you

-FOLLOW established headcanon for the JANaF universe

-DO NOT change established characters' sex, age (unless it's in the past, a la Golden Years), personality (unless taking place before a canonical change)

I think that about covers that. Now, back to bold for how to submit ideas.

How to Submit:

-For those with a Fanfiction account (and this is preferred because of PM's), simply send me a Private Message with a basic summary of your idea. Clarifying questions may be asked, so be prepared to respond. You can send your ideas either directly to me or to my colleagues Arm Chair General and KamikazeRebel. Sending it to one or the others will not affect response time, nor favoritism.

-For those who are a Guest (i.e.: Don't have an account), leave a review on CHAPTER ONE ONLY with your preferred penname and a brief summary of your idea. SUBMIT AN IDEA ONLY ONCE. If a similar idea is presented in the viewable review section, the earliest one will be considered the legitimate submission, so it is recommended to read through the reviews before submitting to ensure you won't accidentally plagiarize.

-For those with one-shots they would like to present for my editing, send them to my author's email: , or through a note on my DeviantART page if you happen to have an account there. If you do, feel free to post it on your own page if you'd rather I didn't edit them for this story. You will be advertised in the next chapter.

A Message from Delta:

Going back to my italicized bold and stepping out of character for a moment, I want to tell you all one thing: Thank You. The reason I want to do this is because I have been fortunate enough to have gained a significant following in the world of Five Nights fanfiction. Even right now, Night One has received over 70,000 views. It might not mean a whole lot, but it does to me. I never expected to be as popular as I am, and this entire night is a sort of way of thanking you, by giving your ideas all of the attention and support that mine received. I have no idea how many I'll receive, but I'm eager to find out. It's a thrill for me to see people enjoying my little tales, and I'm hoping I can keep entertaining you all in the near future. So, I want to say, very earnestly and honestly:

Welcome to Night Seven

-DeltaV "It's more like an Author's Terms of Service, really."