Chapter Five: Now Isn't This Familiar?

Truman's eyes cracked open. His arms were still raised defensively and it took a several seconds for him to gain the courage to lower them. A quick glance around the room revealed that the fox animatronic had disappeared.

"I'm... alive..." the guard said to himself, touching his torso to make sure. "What the fuck was that?"

The camera tablet remained on his lap, the heavy device withstanding the force of Truman's flinching. Its screen was still tuned to the security camera and displayed Springtrap walking out of frame. For several minutes Truman just sat, staring and trying to process what exactly happened. Was he hallucinating? Had the ventilation given out, cutting off oxygen?

No, that couldn't be it. He was pretty tired...

Truman rubbed his face with his hands. Several groups passed by, occasionally giving him a curious glance before proceeding through the exit doors. By proxy, Springtrap became completely silent, which was quickly noticed by Jeff and Cooper. The guard still had his head in hands when they both walked up.

"Hey, your speaker bugging out? It's not play-," Jeff stopped upon seeing Truman, "Hey, you okay?"

Truman looked up, color still drained from his face. Cooper's eyes widened.

"Dude, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost or something," he said. Truman stiffened at the word "ghost."

"...I think I did," Truman replied quietly. Jeff shook his head.

"Nonsense, Tru, ghosts aren't real," he said reassuringly, "But something spooked you. What's up?"

Truman sighed. "You're not going to believe me."

Jeff shrugged. "Probably not, but might as well give it a shot."

"You know I'll believe ya, T," Cooper said encouragingly.

Truman took a breath.

"Well, I was looking down at the cameras, watching Springtrap, when I get this funny feeling," Truman explained, "So I look up and I see a... robot, like Springtrap, but it looked like a dog or a fox, just standing in the corner of the office."

Cooper and Jeff exchanged a glance, and Truman frowned.

"You don't believe me," he said. Jeff shook his head.

"No, no, we believe you saw something, but as for what it is, well..." he trailed off. Cooper stepped in.

"Tell you what, Tru, go head on home. We'll finish up here, and you take tomorrow off, get some rest. Come on back the next day, get away from all of," he gestured around the office, "this. Get your head back, okay?"

Truman mulled the offer over for a moment before nodding.

"Alright, good idea," he said, "Maybe I'm just tired."

Cooper nodded encouragingly.

"Go on, get out of here," he said, "We'll hold down the fort for ya."

Truman packed up his stuff, glancing out at the darkened hallway as another patron screamed in fright. Cooper sat in the chair, watching the cameras, as Jeff returned to the attraction route. The guard couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched as he stepped through the back exit.

A new sensation filled Springtrap as yet another person recoiled at the very sight of him. He was doing his programmed tasks, and doing it quite well, his algorithms reported. The animatronic rabbit began to feel a sort of... satisfaction, even if he didn't quite recognize it yet.

This newly discovered emotion made Springtrap compelled to go check on Truman, see if he felt the same way. He ignored the group he had already encountered, following behind at a steady pace, inadvertently ushering them through the rest of the maze. Several turns later and the window to the security office came into sight. Springtrap strode quickly over to the open doorway, leaning through it, corners of his mouth arcing upwards as the guard in the chair turned to face him.

Facial matching failed.

Springtrap froze. This wasn't Truman, but rather Cooper. The man stared back curiously.

Beginning search. Facial recognition active.

Springtrap scanned the office, but Truman wasn't in the small room. He stepped away from the doorway and looked down the hall. Not there either. The robot picked his way through the entire maze, but his friend was nowhere to be found, and Springtrap found it odd. Truman, at least recently, had always said "good night, Spring," or some variation of the phrase before departing.

This break in routine was unusual, and Springtrap's logic programs determined that this demanded concern. Something was wrong, even if he didn't understand what. Hopefully his friend could explain it, if he could be found.

Cooper, meanwhile, followed the animatronic rabbit, reporting its odd behavior to Jeff and Joe.

"It's just wandering around, no rhyme or reason," he explained, "You're gonna have to tell the guys at the door to hold the guests for a second."

"Sure thing, boss," Joe replied.

"I'm on my way to check it out," Jeff added, "Probably just a bug in the pathfinding."

Springtrap continued to look diligently, picking his way through the layout of the attraction three more times, searching every shadow, behind every prop and set piece. No Truman. These results automatically triggered a brand new facial expression for the robot, and the corners of his mouth drooped downwards.

By this point, Jeff had arrived, carrying a small laptop that had the necessary diagnostic software required by Springtrap's operating system. He found it on an older website that had been dedicated to collecting every scrap of evidence left by the pizzeria. A connecting cable was wrapped around his arm, the ends swinging as he walked briskly to keep up with Springtrap.

"Slow him down, Cooper," Jeff ordered.

"On it." Cooper jogged and stepped in front of Springtrap. The animatronic looked down at him for barely a second before the man found himself unceremoniously shoved aside. "Okay... That didn't work."

Jeff broke into a jog as well, plugging one end of the cable into the laptop and holding the other at the ready. Enough of the back of Springtrap's suit head had rotted away to expose the port it connected to. Jeff reached up and jammed the cable forward.

Springtrap's motion threw off his aim, wedging the end of the cable in a gap in the robotic skull. The rabbit kept walking, and kept searching, reaching the Security Office once again, pulling Jeff along by his computer.

"Damn!" Jeff cursed, pulling at the wire. The connector remained stuck fast as Springtrap suddenly came to a realization: If Truman wasn't inside the building, then he must be...

Springtrap shoved open the exit door, stepping out determinedly into the parking lot. Immediately his facial recognition system was bombarded with information as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned in the robot's direction. A wave of realization swept across the crowd, and Springtrap came on the receiving end of a standing ovation as the attraction was praised.

But the animatronic paid them no mind (and really, he had no idea what they were doing anyway), and remained focused on the task at hand.

Scanning... No match found

Scanning... No match found

Scanning... No match found

Cooper and Jeff awkwardly waved at the crowd as they continued their pursuit of Springtrap, but found themselves pushed back as the people began to swarm the robot. With the flurry of activity and despite the animatronic's size, he was soon lost in the swell of people. Cooper and Jeff shared a glance.

"...Shit."

Mike Schmidt sighed and rubbed his face, leaning back into the plastic seating of his booth in a diner located not too far from the gates of Adventure Park. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of him, and he stared into it as the waitress walked up.

"You sure you don't want some coffee, hun?" she asks, "You look like you could use some."

"No, thank you," Mike replied, "Not much of a coffee guy."

The waitress shrugs, and readies her pen over her pad.

"Well, you look like you could use some comfort food. We still got some pie left over, and our pancakes are just to die for."

"No, no, really, I'm-"

"I'll get you some pie," the waitress said, turning and walking towards the dessert case. Mike sighed, turning to stare out the window.

I can't believe, after all of that, their reward is a haunted house, Mike thought. That's what people will remember, all the terror, none of what made Freddy's great.

His memories of the animatronics were bittersweet at best. Life was exciting then, he felt he had a responsibility, something to take pride in. Mike slumped lower in his chair. So much... He missed them so much. Bonnie's bright smile, Chica's jokes, Freddy's obsessive compulsiveness. Even Foxy, when he was having a good day. They didn't deserve it. None of them did.

After the pizzeria closed, Mike got promoted at his job at the grocery store, becoming part of the management. From there, he was able to get a much more lucrative position working for a large restaurant chain. They were a chain of pizzerias, but Mike made sure they had nothing to do with animatronics. The stigma of Freddy Fazbear's hung over him for years, but as the story faded into urban legend, people lost interest. The public forgot about it, but even decades later, Mike could not.

He stirred his now lukewarm hot chocolate with the knife from his table setting. The dulled metal sloshed softly through the murky brown liquid, and a glaze slid across his eyes as he remembered the good days. He hardly noticed the waitress returning with the pie.

"Here ya go hon, on the house, courtesy of Bobby," she said, setting the plate down in front of Mike. She followed his gaze out the window, before gasping in shock. "What on God's great Earth is that?"

Mike started. "Huh?" he asked, and the waitress pointed. Mike looked at the window, and his heart began thudding hard under his chest. He wiped his eyes quickly, but he was clearly not mistaken. Mike bolted from his booth, leaving the confused waitress behind as he raced out the door.

Springtrap's path finding was now thoroughly confused. Groups of people triggering his facial recognition had brought him down this street, but none of the surroundings looked remotely familiar. The rabbit looked up into the night sky. The ceiling appeared to be missing as well. The area the robot now found himself in was strange, and the odd people he happened upon did not react like those back in the building. Yes, the guests in the attraction also screamed and ran away, but there was always an underlying laugh. Now people shirked away from him, giving him odd looks he did not recognize. A thought crossed across his CPU.

I miss Truman.

"Hey!"

Springtrap's head whipped around, snapping his attention to the direction the voice came from. A man sprinted up to him, stopping short and looking the robot up and down. A smile curved his lips and liquid began to seep from his eyes before he suddenly cast a worried glance at the street around them. He stepped closer, his brows furrowing.

"Wait a second, aren't you supposed to be at that amusement park?" the man asked.

Springtrap titled his head in response, and the man ran a hand through his hair.

"Can't you speak?"

Springtrap straightened his head and did not move further. A few people that had heard the man's shout looked out their windows or from across the way. The man noticed and looked up at Springtrap.

"It's getting late, the park's probably closed down by now," he said, "I'll get you back there in the morning, but we need to get you somewhere where you won't attract attention. Come on, follow me." The man grabbed Springtrap's arm and tried to pull him along but the robot would not budge.

"I'm trying to help you," the man insisted, "We'll get you back there tomorrow, I promise, but we need to get going." He pulled again and this time Springtrap began to follow him. The man set a quick pace but Springtrap found no difficulty in matching it. Several people gawked at them as they walked by, but were ignored. After several minutes of walking, the man turned around.

"Oh, I'm Mike, by the way," the man said, "Mike Schmidt."

30 Years Earlier

"Miiiiiike," Chica whined, "I'm booooored."

Mike Schmidt sighed. He, Chica, and Bonnie were gathered in the Dining Area. Bonnie was standing next to one of the tables, open box of crayons in front of her, and scribbling on just one of the many sheets of paper stacked around her. Chica stood on the stage and had been pacing back and forth. Mike sat in a nearby chair, reading a novel he had brought along. He shut it with a snap.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, and twisted in his chair to look at Bonnie, "What about you, Bon?"

Bonnie held up the piece of paper she had been drawing on. Instead of being a full-page image like she usually produced, it was instead a series of doodles, including a few complicated patterns made out of zig-zagging lines.

"Looks like a 'yes' to me, Mikey," Chica commented. Bonnie carefully set down the crayon and paper.

"Why don't we play a game?" she suggested, "We could play hide and seek."

"Did that already," Chica said.

"Tag?"

"Same thing."

"What about Simon Says?"

"We do that sort of stuff all the time," Chica complained, "We need something else." The trio thought in silence for several moments.

"I got nothing," Mike said, throwing his hands up in defeat, "I think it's safe to say we've explored every possible game to play inside."

Bonnie and Chica exchanged a glance, and Chica strode over to Mike.

"Funny you should mention inside..." the chicken animatronic said. She paused for a few moments, faltering at what to say next. "Bonnie, you ask him."

"Ask me what?" Mike asked, confused. Bonnie clasped her hands in front of her.

"We... want to go outside," Bonnie said, her voice turned down so low Mike had to strain to hear her. His eyes widened.

"No way, uh-uh, absolutely not," he said, shaking his hands and standing up, "Too risky. We can't have people knowing about your sentience." Bonnie crossed her arms.

"But you let Foxy stay with you for days," she pointed out.

"That was different, I had no choice," Mike explained, "And besides, Foxy stayed in my apartment the entire time."

Chica and Bonnie gave each other a knowing look.

"Look," Chica began, holding up a hand to stop Mike's protest. "Bonnie and I are the ones who never get into trouble. We all know who the real troublemaker here is." The trio all cast a glance at the purple curtains covering Pirate Cove, and she continued.

"Freddy won't want to go, and he can keep an eye on Captain Shenanigans over there." Bonnie chimed in.

"You can trust us, Mike, we just really, really want to go outside. You'll be with us the entire time, and we'll get back way before six," she added.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to look at the not-quite-right puppy dog eyes Bonnie and Chica were now attempting to give him. He sighed.

"I'll make you a deal. If you can get Freddy's permission, then we'll give it a shot. I'm not doing anything unless he's onboard," Mike said. As if on cue, the door leading to the Backstage opened and the animatronic bear strode out. Bonnie and Chica hurried up to him.

"Bonnie, Chica," Freddy said, nodding to each of them, "I'm assuming you're about to ask me something." Chica gave him the biggest, most innocent smile her limited expression could allow.

"Right you are, Freddo, right you are," she said, "Hey, is that a new hat? It looks very sharp. And oh my goodness, did you do something new to your suit?"

Freddy's eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, as if trying to see the brim of his signature top hat. He shook his head.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," he said, "Come now, just ask the question." Chica and Bonnie looked at each other apprehensively, then back to Mike, who shrugged.

"Can we go outside?" Bonnie blurted. Freddy's eyes widened.

"Outside?" he asked, "Certainly not."

Both Bonnie and Chica looked crestfallen.

"But Freddy-!" they both began.

"No 'buts', you both know the rules," he said, "We are not allowed outside of the restaurant's walls. Ever." Freddy blinked. "...Previous events notwithstanding."

"But what about when Foxy was in trouble?" Bonnie asked, "Or with those policemen?"

Freddy nodded, "Yes, yes, but those were-."

"Also with the mall, and Foxy leaving, and then Foxy leaving again," Chica listed, ticking the events off one-by-one on her fingers. "Come to think of it, Foxy's gone a lot." Bonnie stepped forward.

"All we want to do is go explore a little, really go out and see stuff," she explained, "Mike'll be with us the entire time, and you can trust us."

Freddy did not reply, mulling the request over for several moments. He imitated a static-filled sigh.

"Alright, very well," he said.

Bonnie and Chica let out a cheer, turning to each other excitedly. Freddy let out a burst of interference, a loud squawking squeal that got their attention.

"But you will not leave Michael's side," he said forcefully, and looked at the clock on the wall, "It is currently just past two o'clock. I expect you both to be back absolutely no later than five-thirty. Understand?"

"Yes, Freddy," Bonnie and Chica chorused, before gleefully turning to Mike.

"Well don't just sit there, Mikey, let's get this show on the road!" Chica exclaimed, dragging the guard out of his chair by his collar.

"Thank you, Freddy!" Bonnie said, hugging the bear. He chuckled.

"Just be safe," he said, "I'll be waiting right here when you get back."

"Avast! Wha' be tha meanin' o' all this here racket?" Foxy asked, sticking his head out between the purple curtains of his Cove. Chica looked over at him, still holding on to Mike.

"Nothing, Foxy, you're not a part of this," she called over. He gave her a confused look, but withdrew back into his Cove. Mike pushed himself free of Chica's grip, only for Bonnie to grab his hand.

"Come on, Mike!" she said, leading him towards the door. Chica followed close behind, her excited grin pulling hard on the wires in her jaw.

Mike could not unlock the doors fast enough before being pulled outside as both Bonnie and Chica dashed out into the night. Freddy chuckled softly to himself as he pulled the double doors shut behind them with a click.

"Alright, alright, quit pushing me!" Mike protested. He, Bonnie, and Chica stood at the edge of the restaurant's parking lot. "This is not a good idea."

"Oh, you worry too much," Chica told him, and pointed across the street to the small bundle of shops. "Let's go over there."

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza resided near a small commercial district, made up of small Mom and Pop stores as well as fast food chains, haircutters, pet stores, and other assorted local business. The pizzeria dominated one side of the road and had an entire parking lot dedicated to it with a few stores a small distance away on either side. The road going through the center was a large four-lane avenue and featured a grassy median with trees planted at intervals along its length. Just behind the rows of shops lay the residential neighborhood Foxy had terrorized nearly three months ago.

Mike looked at the shops uneasily.

"I dunno... Some of those places are open 24 hours," he said, "Someone might see you."

"We'll be careful," Bonnie insisted, "C'mon, let's go!"

"Alright..."

The guard stood at the edge of the sidewalk, craning his neck left and right to be sure no cars were heading their way. Despite the road being a large thoroughfare, most traffic ceased around one in the morning. Mike took a breath.

"Keep up with me," he said, and dashed out into the street. Bonnie and Chica followed close behind, their heavy footfalls thudding across the asphalt with padded clanks. The grassy median nearly sent both animatronics face-first into the ground, and they both stopped to gain their balance. Mike looked around warily as the rabbit and chicken carefully stepped down off the median before he jogged the rest of the way across the street.

The only nearby business that still had its lights on was a laundromat currently vacant of both patrons and any form of staff. It caught Bonnie's interest immediately. She wandered inside, looking at the rows of washers and dryers.

"What're these things?" she asked.

"Uuuh, washing machines," Mike replied, following her into the small storefront, "You put clothes in them and wash them."

"Oh," Bonnie replied simply, but continued to look around. Mike glanced around warily.

"I thought these places had a person watching all the machines, or something," he said aloud. Chica shrugged from her place in the parking lot, taking in the feeling of being outside.

"I dunno," she told him, "Never been in one of these before."

Bonnie continued to explore the laundromat, fiddling with the machines and pressing every button she came across. Chica walked out into the middle of the parking lot, relishing in having so much free space around her.

"Let's face it, our home's pretty small," Chica observed. Mike walked over to her and crossed his arms.

"Can't imagine being locked up in one place for years," he commented, "I can see why it'd be nice to get away, get into some open space." An idea suddenly clicked in his mind. "That's it!"

Bonnie stuck her head out the laundormat's doorway. She had found two socks (not matching) and had slipped them over the first segment of her ears.

"What's it?" she asked, beating Chica to the punch in asking.

"Take off those socks, I know the perfect place," Mike replied, "Come on, follow me."

Mike led the two 'bots into the suburbs behind the shopping center and heading for the middle of the development. A small park sat there, little more than a field with some benches, trees, and a concrete picnic area, but it did the job. He stopped at the edge and watched as Chica and Bonnie began to pick their way across the field. Every couple of steps one of them would stop and point something out to the other. Eventually they made it to the very center.

The glow of the streetlamps did not reach the middle of the field, but Mike could still see the glowing of the animatronics' eyes. He watched them explore, feeling a little bit like a father with his kids. Except his kids were seven feet tall and made of metal. And it was the middle of the night.

"Tag! You're it!" he heard Bonnie shout, and watched the small red glows move quickly away from the purple.

"What the-? Bonnie!" Chica chased after the fleeing rabbit. Mike could hear their servos whirring and could just make out their silhouettes in the distance. He chuckled, and kept a lookout. The streets were quiet, crickets could be heard chirping and the surrounding houses were dark. The half-moon in the sky cast a soft blue glow separated by the harsher yellow of streetlights. A breeze picked up, ruffling the leaves in the surrounding trees and making the grass sway. It was actually quite peaceful...

CRASH! Mike jumped a foot at the loud sound and whirled back around. Bonnie and Chica's chase had taken them into the picnic area where Chica had collided with a metal trash can. The chicken was currently picking herself up off the ground. Mike ran over.

"Jesus, are you okay?" he asked, puffing slightly as he raced up to her. Chica nodded.

"Yeah, just took a tumble," she replied, "Happens to the best of us. Heck, it just happened to me!" She gave Mike a grin as she slowly stood up. The guard was not convinced, and gave her the once-over, squinting in the darkness.

Chica's suit had more wear and tear, but nothing looked serious. Which was good, as Mike would not be looking forward to Nathan's lecture should Chica had damaged herself on his watch.

"Sorry," Bonnie said to her, "I shouldn't have gone this way." Chica shook her head.

"Don't be, I'm fine, don't worry about it," she replied, patting Bonnie on the shoulder with a clunk. Mike looked around nervously.

"Someone had to have heard that," he said, "We should probably head back."

Chica and Bonnie looked disappointed, but both nodded, and followed Mike back towards the pizzeria.

Freddy looked up from his chair arranging as the front doors to the restaurant opened. He glanced at the clock: 4:12 am.

"You're back early," he observed as Bonnie, Chica, and Mike walked inside.

"Eh, nothing really to do at night," Chica said dismissively.

"Well I'm glad you're back to clean up that mess you left in the Kitchen," Freddy replied.

"Oh, yeah, whoopty-doo," Chica quipped as she pushed open the Kitchen doors.

"It was kind of fun, but Mike's right, it was too dangerous," Bonnie admitted. Freddy nodded sagely.

"Yes, well, all went well, and that's what's important," he said, "And it is nice to take a risk or two, every once in a while."

Mike scoffed.

"You never struck me as the roguish, mischievous type," he said. Freddy simply smiled. Mike clapped his hands together.

"Well, back to work," he said, walking down the East Hall towards his office. Some of the clutter inside had been cleaned, and the items on the desk rearranged.

Oh, thanks Freddy, Mike thought, sitting down in the rolling chair. It immediately fell apart underneath him, leaving him staring up at the ceiling. A small note had been taped to it, written with one of Bonnie's crayons:

:)

-F

"Freddy!" Mike roared. The bear's deep, creepy chuckle echoed down the hallway.

A/N: Well... It's been an awful long time, hasn't it? Sorry for not updating, I just sort of... lost the will to write. I found myself feeling much less passionate about this series, and kind of with stuff as a whole. I've been writing other stuff on the side, and even those I haven't had any desire to write. It's almost as if I ran out of my supply of creativity, my battery was sapped, and I needed to recharge. I'm still sort of feeling it, so I won't make any promises with the next update, just that it's coming, and it will happen, come hell or high water.

In other news, hey, Sister Location. That's a thing. Can't wait to see what THAT's going to be about. I also read Scott's book, the Silver Eyes (or whatever). It was... interesting. Nothing like I expected. Read like something I'd find on this site, actually. Go figure.

Oh, I also saw a review from a gentleman (or gentlewoman, I don't discriminate) saying they wanted to make a comic of my stories. I wanted to reply to them immediately, but they used a guest account to review, making that not a thing I could do. If you're reading this, Comic Artist Guest, here is my response:

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO IT.

I've also had the honor of having more fan art made for me. You are all amazingly talented people and I thank you. Just not by name.

As far as JANAF news, well, I do intend to incorporate Five Nights at Freddy's 4, and I have an idea for it that will not surprise anyone who has read my series.

And I have another announcement: Left 4 Dead! I have been writing a Left 4 Dead thing on the side, and I'm looking forward to posting that at some point in the future. It won't be taking priority, it being more of an "as the mood strikes me" sort of deal (until JANAF reaches its conclusion. It'll happen, folks!)

Alright, that's enough out of me. Until next time, Delta out.

And damn, it's good to be back.

-DeltaV "The Comeback Tour"