Sarah McGee holding a phone to her ear, with a business card in her hand.

A young man sat in the security office, hurriedly taping a bottle of water to his shirt. He glanced to a small display to his left: 5:15, 2%.

He took out his cell phone, and his wallet, placing them on the desk. Was the phone guy right? Would the company not report him missing?

He'd taken too many risks. But he needed to know.

And he was about to find out.

A few minutes later, the fan that was in the office died. The light in the office died. He closed his eyes, and took a deep steadying breath.

The bear appeared a few minutes later, laughing that laugh of his. The music box began to play. "It wasn't me," he said, his voice shaking. "Let me help you find out who it was. I want to help. It wasn't me! It's NOT ME!"

At 6:30, when the staff came in, there was no sign of their night shift watchmen.

1:30 PM
NCIS Squad Room

"You've got to be kidding me, if I stare at these cold cases any longer, I'll get a break. In my temples," Dinozzo complained.

"Tell me about it," McGee concurred, "If it gets any slower up here, the Director's threatened to reassign me back to Cybercrimes."

"Really?" Bishop asked, looking up from her computer, probably taking another online NCIS training course. "He'd actually do that?"

"It's how McDos was introduced to our new director," Tony said. Then he shuddered. "He wouldn't put me back on a ship, would he?"

"His kids are on spring break," McGee reminded him. "He's taking a few days off."

"But I might!" said Gibbs, walking into the squad room. "Grab your gear!"

"Dead body, boss?" Dinozzo said, trying not to sound relieved.

"Gassing the van, boss," McGee said, grabbing the keys Gibbs tossed in his direction. "Where are we headed?"

"No. Downtown Rockville," he replied in order.

"I told myself never to go back there," Dinozzo mumbled.

2:15 PM
Rockville, Maryland

It felt odd coming up on a crime scene without Ducky and Palmer present. It wasn't unexpected as there was no one to autopsy, but it still didn't happen very often.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?" McGee asked dubiously. Fazbear's was probably the largest tenant of the strip mall. The logo, showing four anthropomorphized animals, eager to meet the incoming guests, was ringed with golden neon. The windows looked into the main eating and gaming area. A large door was propped open, letting in the warm spring air.

"Home of cheap arcade games, cheap pizza, and and a cheap animatronic band," Dinozzo said, climbing out of the van, joining his fellow very special agent.

"That'd make it your kind of place, right, Tony?" McGee needled.

"So, what are we here for?" Bishop asked, taking in the sounds of laughing children and electronic games coming from the door.

"Mike Schmidt," Gibbs said.

"Who?"

"Age 26, was the night security guard of Freedy Fazbears," Gibbs said, heading for the door. "Missing about thirty six hours ago, last seen here."

The three team members exchanged looks. "What makes this our case?" Dinozzo asked.

"His father's a two star admiral at Bethesda NNMC. Rockville PD and the FBI are fine with us taking the case. Besides, Dee-no-zo, I thought you were bored. You can always go back to the cold cases," Gibbs said, pushing his way into the restaurant.

"On your six boss!"

2:25 PM

Bishop and Dinozzo had been assigned to photograph the security station, the last known whereabouts. The manager's office was a small, but not cramped, room, just inside the restaurant proper. It was nestled between the eating area and the security room itself. McGee had been assigned the interview the manager, one Larry Bryant. Larry was a middle age gentlemen in a button down shirt, wearing a Fazbear's Pizza name tag with his full name in blue lettering. He gave an impression of being overworked and under-budgeted.

"Mike?" Larry repeated. "I liked Mike. Came in on time, always was good to the janitorial staff as they were leaving, greeted me with a smile when I'd come in at 7:00 AM sharp." Larry threw up his hands. "Sometimes I hate this place. I'm about to be on my third security guard in three weeks. Like this place has anything worth stealing."

"I don't know," McGee said, looking at the nearly full party room. "The kids all seem to be having a good time."

Larry broke into a smile, "Yeah. Kids love Freddy," he looked though his window to the show stage, where Freddy had just finished his song, and was leaning down to hug one of the children. "Always have. They love kids, too. Never seen them give adults the time of day, though. Mostly just ignore them." He shrugged. "Weird programming, I guess. When they had the larger place, I heard they were allowed to roam all over the place."

"Third security guard in three weeks?" Gibbs asked.

"One to be hired," Larry said. "Know anyone? I got business cards. Otherwise I'm covering again." he told them, handing cards out to both Gibbs and McGee. "Then there's Mike. Then there was," he thought back. "Nick. Nicholas Peterson. Yeah, that was it." He looked up at Gibbs stone face. "You want his address. I'll get it. Only lasted a three days. Bit of a jerk, really."

"Any of them have an enemies?" Gibbs asked.

Larry shook his head. "Don't think so, but I didn't know them that well. I mean, the night shift guard's only real responsibility to make sure nothing messes with the animatronics. It's barely more than a minimum wage job. A lot of them bring books or homework or stuff." He shrugged, then let out a yawn. "Sorry. Like I said, covered the night shift last night."

Gibbs snapped his notebook shut. "Alright. We'll be in touch."

A sudden WHAM! WHAM! came from the door, surprising everyone in the office.

"Get that for me, would you?" asked Larry, a wry smile on his face.

Gibbs turned to the door, opening it.

A middle age woman stood in it, a young girl pulling at her arm, in the opposite direction of the door. "Are you the manager here?" she demanded.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and jerked his thumb at Larry in the chair behind him.

"Mom, I'm telling you, there's nothing..."

"What are you doing, putting children around those creepy..."

"Mom, they're not creepy!"

Larry let loose a sigh. "Look, I understand. They look just human enough that some people have that reaction. It's called the uncanny vall..."

"And there's that smell!"

Larry's face took on an exhausted look. "What smell? We've had inspectors here several times. No smell."

"Then maybe it's the pizza," she countered. "Smells like rotting meat."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Larry said, putting his hands palm up, plaintively.

"Hmph," she said, stomping away.

Larry sighed. "That one I can't explain. We've had health inspectors over here so many times... never find anything. But people keep insisting. Normally, I'd say where there's smoke, there's fire, but I can't figure it out either."

Gibbs gave a half smile, "Let's take a look around."

2:30 PM

The security station was in the back, and consisted of a fan, a desk, and a couple of buttons for lights and really large security doors. Currently consisting of Bishop, Dinozzo, and Phil, the daytime guard, it made for some cramped quarters. At the moment, Bishop held the Fazbear security tablet. "So, this tablet is connected to all the cameras?" Bishop said. "Kind of neat. Choose a camera on the map, just tap and view."

"No recordings though. What would they do if something actually happened?"

Phil, dressed in his Fazbear security uniform, shrugged. "I asked the same thing. Apparently, the owner's some kind of skinflint, and won't pay for it."

"So you're in here the whole day?" Dinozzo asked.

"Eh. I wander around as well, make it look like I'm being productive," he said. He tapped his tablet. "I don't like those animatronics, though. Every time they get a look at me, I swear their expression changes. They bare their teeth, or something." He shuddered.

"Bah. No worse than Chucky," Dinozzo said.

"Wait. The rat? He's not even..."

"The doll."

"Oh. Was never a fan of horror flicks," Phil admitted. "Anyway, it's already claustrophobic in here. I'll go for a walk, leave you two to it."

"One last question," Bishop said, "What's with the doors? Those seem insanely heavy for a kid's pizza restaurant."

"You'd have to ask the owner. Even Larry couldn't tell me why we have such crazy things. Our best bet is that they were here when the place was refurbished into the restaurant, and they just kept intact." Phil shrugged and departed.

Between Bishop and Tony, they took pictures of all the children's artwork, the desk, the floor, and the two doors, none of which showed signs of foul play. Just to be safe, they sprayed the area down with Luminol, then they took out the portable UV light and swept the area, but found no blood.

"That's pretty thorough," Tony said, "Pretty sure nothing actually happened here."

3:00 PM

"So what do we have?" asked Gibbs as they clambered back into the van.

"Not a lot. His car's still here. Wallet and phone were on the desk, no sign that anyone broke in. Though the lack of anyone actually recording the cameras mean it certainly could have happened."

"Those doors belong on a panic room," Bishop said. "Nobody's getting into that room if Mike's doesn't want it to happen. So I'm pretty sure he wasn't kidnapped from the restaurant."

"That reminds me, boss," McGee said. "Could you smell anything on the main stage? After that interruption, I thought something would be potent, but I couldn't smell anything out of the ordinary."

"Yep," Gibbs replied, but didn't elaborate.

There was a moment of expectant silence as everyone got buckled up.

"I'll look into his credit cards and bank accounts when we get back, see if there's been any recent activity," McGee said.

"I'll call the Admiral, try to get a list of friends and relations, cross check it against the numbers on his phone." said Tony.

Gibbs turned to Bishop. He raised an eyebrow

"His home?" Bishop offered. "See if we can get his computer?"

"Good. You're with me."

5:15 PM

"What've we got?" demanded Gibbs as he came off the elevator.

"The computer's safe in Abby's lab," Bishop reported. "She's already gone home for the day, but I'm sure she'll get to it first thing this morning."

"Any sign of foul play?" McGee asked.

"Nah. House was reasonably kept up, except for the stack of soda cans on his computer desk itself."

"I meant..."

"No, none of that either."

"I found out who reported Mike's disappearance," Dinozzo reported. "Apparently, he was supposed to host a role playing game at his house the next day. When he didn't show, one of the others called his father," Tony said. "I've got a list of names, cross checked it against the phone numbers, and am working on addresses. There's also this charity that he works for. Couldn't get an answer back from them."

"And nothing on the credit card front. No bank movement either. Other than that..." a phone echoed through the office. "I've got a personal call," McGee said, startled. He pulled out a cell and glanced at the number. "My sister," he said apologetically.

"Sarah?" he asked. "Really? I'll do my best." He put down the phone and turned back to Gibbs. "Other than that, we've got nothing." He looked flummoxed for a moment. "My sister's car quit. She's hoping I can come pick her up."

Gibbs let out a breath, he was clearly debating something. "Go. All of you. Looks like we're getting nowhere else tonight."

"Didn't you take the bus, Tim?" Dinozzo asked, grabbing his coat.

"Yeah. I'll have to get home before I can..."

"C'mon, McGreen. I'll drive."

5:45 PM

"I can't afford this," Sarah complained.

"What? Having someone take you to work?" Tim asked.

"No, the actual repairs," she said wryly. "I'm going to need a second job."

Tim put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a business card. "I know this guy's looking for a security guard for an over night shift. It's an emergency for him."

Sarah took it. "Oh. I remember that place. Had the bunny and chicken bandmates, right?" Then she stiffened. "The last one wasn't murdered or something, was he? How'd you find out about this?"

"Missing person," Tim admitted. "Don't know that's where he disappeared from, but it's where he was last seen."

"That's still kind of creepy."

"It's a night watchmen post. Bring a book or some of your writing, it's likely to be the second dullest job in existence."

"After that Potato Chip Picker job, right?"

Tim shuddered.

"It's actually not a bad idea," she admitted. "And if he's desperate, he's probably looking for someone right now."

She took out her phone and dialed.