Universal Language

Prologue: Roni

Roni was bouncing on her toes as she waited for Mr. Fazbear to return. She was in the big dining area, which was filled with laughing children, sighing adults, and exhausted employees. The big stage at the front of the room had it's heavy red curtains closed, hiding the trio of famous singing animatronics from view. There was a clock hung above the stage, with blue and red stars where the numbers should have been. When she'd asked Fazbear about it, he'd explained that a new show started every hour, like clockwork (he'd chuckled to himself at the pun, finding it hilarious. She'd squeaked out an appreciative laugh, despite cringing inside at the obviously-practiced joke). If the hour hand was on a red star, it was a music set. If the hour hand was on a blue star, it was a comedy routine.

"Families spend hours here," he'd explained as he gave her a tour of the restaurant, "We don't want the parents and kids to see the same show all the time, so we mix it up." He'd left her then, heading for his office in order to retrieve her new uniform and an extra set of keys. She was still reeling a bit that he'd given her the job. He'd barely glanced at her resume (which had stung a little-she'd spent hours fretting over the piece of paper) before giving her the night guard job.

The nineteen-year-old absently chewed on a nail as the minute hand ticked closer and closer to the red star where the '12' should have sat. Some of the employees were corralling the kids (it looked like there had been a birthday party or four today) back to their tables, pointing at the stage and explaining that a show as about to start. The hour hand clicked toward the red star over the '2' spot.

"Here we are, dear." Fazbear had returned with a stack of clothing and items in his arms. He led the way over to an empty table at the back wall, opposite the stage. It was an extra-tall table with bar stool-style chairs, meant for visiting families, not large celebration groups. The tall chairs meant the parents could more easily see their children as they ran about. Fazbear dropped the items on the table, taking one of the seats. Roni sat opposite him, shoving her hands in her pockets to keep from chewing on her nails.

"This will be your uniform," Fazbear pulled a purple short-sleeved button-up shirt from the pile. It had a gold patch sewed over the left breast, boasting the words 'Freddy Fazbear Security' in bright red letters. A purple and black baseball cap with the same badge accompanied it. "You will be expected to wear either black or khaki pants with th shirt. Since you're the night guard, you don't have to wear the hat when you're on duty." He pulled a black leather belt from the pile. "This is your belt. There's spots here for your flashlight, baton, and mace." These three items he also pulled out, showing her how to clip them into their holsters, as well as how to remove them.

Roni raised a brow, doubting the need for such items. Sure, Freddy's was a popular restaurant, but it wasn't a bank or a jewelry store. The atrocities of eighteen years ago had long been forgotten – Freddy and his friends had been left alone for nearly ten years after the bite, before Fazbear re-branded and reopened the place. In the past eight years it had boomed, and peoples fears of the animatronics had faded. After all, it wasn't as though the animatronics were as advanced as their smartphones, right? They were nearly forty years old by now, and moved in a creaky, archaic fashion. The kids still loved them though, an with the tech-savvy generations becoming parents, the fear of another 'bite' incident had all but dissipated.

Fazbear cleared his throat, and Roni jerked her hand from her mouth – she'd been chewing on her thumb nail without realizing it. She flashed him a sheepish smile and accepted the belt. "Sorry, sir. I guess I'm still kind of nervous. This is my first job, after all."

The large man waved away her apology. "No need to say sorry, my dear! I remember my first job. I was a soda jockey – those were like waiters, you know – at a diner in my town. Was petrified when I first started – was sure I'd get an order wrong or drop a glass, or what have you, especially when there was a pretty girl at the counter." He winked above his bristling mustache, and Roni couldn't help but smile back. "Now, you'll be starting tonight. Your shift runs from midnight to six." He heaved his bulk out of the chair and leaned on the table while Roni gathered her uniform up. "As I'm sure you remember, it's minimum wage, though if you stick around long enough I might be able to give you a raise."

Roni slid out of her seat, uniform pressed to her chest to keep from dropping anything, when the lights suddenly dimmed. She squeaked, nearly tripped, and was eternally grateful that the cheering of the children drowned out her soft swear. Beside her Fazbear beamed and clapped his hands.

"Ah, it's two o'clock, on the dot!" He chuckled at his rhyme as the heavy red curtains slid back, revealing a band that was like nothing else in the world. The main singer was a large, brown bear with small round ears and a large muzzle. He was smiling, showing a mechanical jaw of square, white teeth. His eyes were a bright, almost unnatural shade of blue. He had a top hat and a bow tie, both black, and a large microphone in his hand. To his right was a purple rabbit with long, sectioned ears that flopped over at the top. His eyes were purple as well, and his smile was equally square and disturbing. A bright red guitar matched his red bow tie. He was holding it tightly, the fingers of his right hand twitching over the strings. To Freddy's left was a – well, a bird. Roni couldn't quite decide whether it was a chicken or a duck. It was yellow, with feathers sticking up from her head. It was a she, Roni decided, since it had a purple cupcake plushie and a name that, in Spanish, literally meant 'girl.' Her large pink eyes had darker circles around them than the other two. They were set above an orange beak which, oddly enough, had the same square teeth as the others. A white bib around her neck proclaimed 'Let's Eat!' in yellow and purple letters.

The new night guard grimaced – as much as the kids loved these singing, talking robots, she found them incredibly creepy and disturbing. Glancing through the dimmed lighting, she could see several adults sharing her thoughts, if the raised eyebrows and concerned whispers were anything to go by.

The animatronics began to talk, their speech stuttering at some points as the large mouths (and beak, in the chicken-ducks case) clapped open and closed in time with the recordings. After a few bad puns (though none as bad as the aforementioned 'clockwork' joke) and some playful bickering between the bear and the rabbit, they began to sing. Several of the children cheered and sang with them, though they were unable to drown out the cheesy music and self-promoting lyrics. Every song was some kind of jingle promoting their pizzas or the arcade room. Between each song they joked with each other or encouraged the kids to buy more pizza (that was mostly the chicken-duck) in their unsettling tinny voices. At one point the bear mentioned something called 'Foxy' but the words seemed to cut out halfway through the sentence, and the three launched into another song.

After six of these songs, and several more puns that Roni's father would have loved, the robots said goodbye and the curtain slid closed. The lights slowly regained their previous brilliance. Fazbear clapped Roni on the shoulder, gushing about the robots and how they were his pride and joy.

"That's what you'll be protecting," he explained, gently pressing against her shoulder, turning her towards the doors. They walked towards the exit, past the counter where families checked in. "We've had instances of vandalism in the past, and it'll be up to you to keep them safe."

"I'll do my best, sir. I swear." Roni might have found them creepy, but this man was obviously very fond of the robots. He'd been nice enough to hire her without any previous experience, and even if it was just six hours a night, thirty hours a week, it was still a job.

Fazbear pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and placed them atop the clothing she had in her arms. "That's what I want to hear!" He made a shooing motion. "Now go rest up. Your shift starts at twelve o'clock, sharp. It'd be best if you came in a few minutes early to set up your workstation, though."

"I'll be here early, sir."

"Good lass!"

Humming happily, Roni bounced on her toes as she walked away from the happy pizzeria, certain she had found the perfect job.