You've had enough.

You pushed yourself off the comfort of Freddy's couch, the pile of plush dolls toppling over each other due to the sudden shift of momentum. The lights were dimmed; and the vanity neatly placed where objects of your person lay on top. The curtains were drawn shut—Freddy must've shut them before starting his own duties for the day.

You stretched, arms above your head, chest out—the stiffness of your back protesting with a numb-feeling pain until—pop, okay, that hit the spot.

You shook your head, your fingers brushing through your hair to smooth out the sleep-curled locks. At least, even for around... four hours? You managed to get a little bit of rest. You picked up a black hair tie from the vanity and tied your hair back into a semi-neat bun, feeling fresher now that the air circulated around your throat. The cap with the logo of security lay stationed near the mirror, and you put that on too, making sure it's centered properly, presentable enough to leave the greenroom and start your day.

You barely did any work last night, and you slept kind of well despite never achieving the almighty 8 hours sleep a night. Might as well take on the day shift cause—why not? More salary wage, more time to... investigate.

Would Vanessa be here, though? Sometimes, she takes the dayshift too out of spite. Maybe you could spot her just a little bit. Surely, she wouldn't cause a scene in front of so many people, right?

Hopefully.

You equipped yourself with all things of your person, your holster carrying the taser, your phone, a flashlight you probably wouldn't use today, and other essentials required of your employment obligations. You took a moment to fix yourself one last time in front of the vanity mirror before tapping on the button that opens the greenroom.

Like always, it slid open—and the lights of Rockstar Row flashed before your eyes. It was still early, probably eight in the morning. There were still few people around, kids looking well behaved, clutching their parents' hands like it was their lifeline. There was even a toddler who wore a vest made out of soft fabric, and attached to the back part of the vest was a harness-like leash wherein the other end was held by a parent—is this because of the incident? They're surely being more careful now.

Well, they better. You don't need another missing kid in this damn place.

You shook your head and pushed yourself to move forward, smiling, greeting guests as if it had been a ritual done more than just a daily basis. Your movements were fluid thanks to the hours of rest, and you scaled up the stairs in a few skips ahead.

The Pizzaplex is too large to search and about alone—best you could do is check if you could locate her quickly through the management logs. You did just that—heading to the main office of whatever administrative management was there, which was just by the lobby near the gift shop.

The office looked like a simple door, no décor sticking on the frame, and a plaque "ADMIN" was nailed to the door itself. You knocked three times before twisting the door knob, the steel handle cold to the touch. But you went in anyways, peeking in to see rows and rows of cubicles occupied by each administration staff—this is probably where the H.R. and management stay, well technically—that's a yes.

A small door on the outside, but big on the inside, you gave a wave, smiling at whoever looks your way. Some of them greeted back with a smile or wave of their own, some were nods of acknowledgement, and some were—well, brows furrowed at whoever they were talking to on the phone. You simply ignored them, if so, and headed straight across the room where "SECURITY HEAD" was written on its wooden plaque.

Security head? You mused, the security head never left the office, they're just... well, paperwork personnel. But anyways, that's not your problem cause—if the guy WAS so updated and actively roaming, then he'd probably find you holding hands with an 8 foot animatronic and hugging his—

Ehem, let's not get any more graphic than it already insinuates.

You entered the office after knocking twice, and the office wasn't really that big. It was around 20 sqm at most, with its own bathroom connected, and a sole potted plant sat in the corner. A mahogany brown desk at the center, two chairs that looked decent enough to invite company, and of course—behind the desk was a man, balding from age, but otherwise not unkind.

"Sir?" you spoke, catching his attention. His gaze shifted from whatever paperwork and newspaper article he was reading to meet yours.

"(Y/N)? Didn't you take the night shift last night?" he questioned, but knowing you, would that question be necessary? You often take consecutive shifts at will, and there wasn't really anything that could stop you if you wanted to do SOMETHING within premises. He thought—why not just make a girl in her late 20s go and about in taking consecutive shifts as if sleep wasn't an essential need?

"I'm gonna take the dayshift too. Um... is 'Nessa around?" you looked around, but it didn't hold the slightest bit of substance. Even if you looked around, you wouldn't even get the chance to glance at her shadow at the very least. So, why even bother?

"Vanessa?" he looked at his laptop screen for a moment, typing out something—then turning back to you. "She hasn't been to work lately; she's been tagged AWOL for three days now."

Now that was a shocker, wasn't Vanessa around just... last night? If she's been AWOL then... then what did you saw?

Was Vanessa entering premises outside her work scope? That wasn't really a surprise, considering how volatile Vanessa has been lately but... huh?

"That doesn't make sense, maybe she just... forgot to clock in?" you assumed—which was unlikely. Between you and Vanessa, you were more prone to forgetting clock ins for work—evidence by how frequent Freddy had to testify in his records that you WERE at work, apparently.

The dynamic between you both is....surreal.

"No, if that's the case then we would know. Besides, she didn't even show up to get her paycheck."

Now that was.... Odd.

"Anyways, I have a hearing to attend to... unfortunately. Just do your job and if you spot any kid—PLEASE turn them over to customer service, yeah?" he shooed you out of his office before the door closed right against your back—looks like Fazbear Entertainment faced lawsuit... is it the incident? That explains the occasional roaming cops in civilian wear.

So, Vanessa's been AWOL, they say, but you're smart enough to know that it's not the entire case.

You saw her there, you swore it.

Of course, you were nothing if not persistent. You rushed out of the place—if Vanessa isn't going to face, you, then you just have to hunt her down yourself.

With a determined stride, you made your way back to Rockstar Row. The lights were bright yet dim at the same time, neon and flashing colors adorned the area where customers and their children pranced and about—enjoying.

The animatronics were absent from this section of the building, it appears... Freddy and the rest are either preparing to perform the routine performance in the Main Atrium, or some of them are rented out for birthday parties, perhaps.

Nonetheless, no one would suspect a thing when a security guard casually walks in and out of "staff only" premises.

And by "Staff Only", you meant the doors leading to the Utility Tunnels.

Pushing open the heavy door, you slipped inside and headed down the flights of stairs that were eternally familiar to you. Retracing your steps would most likely hint where Vanessa had gone, and since you last saw her here then... she must be around.

You weren't alone, there were several employees in the Utility Tunnels, some were maintenance staffs, the others were tech supports that needed to get to certain places at the most efficient way.

The lights were brighter now that it was daytime, and the voices of various employees met your ears. Of course, you greeted the ones who were directly passing by you. Your shoes clinked against the concrete, mixing with the sounds of all other employees shuffling and about.

You felt eyes on you but—probably just the employees, right? Or did Freddy tap into the cameras again?

Well, whatever the reason may be, its irrelevant at the moment.

You pushed through, the expanse of the platform spreading—pipes and blocks of machineries littered the area like obstacles on the road—but somehow still systematical. Employees pass by you, and others went up elevators to their designated location. You on the other hand, you didn't stay around to linger, your eyes zeroing in on the far onward where you remembered you've gone through with Freddy.

Just as expected, the space was there—and you could barely squeeze through—you expected another space leading to the office area—but...

"...What?" you muttered to apparently—no one. The space where a hall should've led to that shabby-looking security office was... not there. Instead, it looked like it was repurposed as a janitor's walk-in closet. Nowhere was the monitors on the desk, or the dusty filing cabinets of used and worn-out papers. All that was there were buckets, shelves of bottles of whatever chemical there is, mops and... spray bottles.

"No... this isn't—maybe I'm in the wrong hall." But no matter how you rationalize—you weren't the wrong place, stop gaslighting yourself!

So what did you do next? You ran off, back up the stairs to Rockstar Row and—to sheer luck or the universe's intervention, your manager was there, inspecting the statue for some reason. Of course, you headed straight at him. "Sir!"

He turned briefly, looking tired all the same. "Yes?"

"The office—since when was the security office in the Utility Tunnels turned to a janitor's closet?" you took the time to calm your breathing first, after all—you looked like you qualified for some marathon. "Since when—"

"(Y/N) are you sure you're alright? It's been two years since that office was taken down. It's a janitor's closet for two years now." He took a sharp inhale, then exhale. "Look, I get it, you're really concerned about the missing children's incident, the lawsuits and all but... are you really okay?"

"Of... of course I—"

"I think what you need is a vacation." He crossed his arms; a clipboard idly pinched between his fingers. "I'll try to see if I can get a temporary guy to cover for you."

"What? No, I'm TOTALLY fine, really—" you had to suck in a breath for a while. "Just... okay, look... is there any update on the missing kids?"

He cocked up an eyebrow before setting them in a line. "None as of late, I'm too busy attending court hearings. Apparently, tons of parents united to file a negligence complaint against the Pizzaplex and Fazbear Entertainment. The only thing you should know about is that no kid has been found yet, yeah? If you really wanna help out, get some rest and try to see if you can get any trace within the building. Okay? I have a hearing in an hour; I'll be going first."

He waved off soon after, leaving without another word. While you? You were left to ponder what you could say to convince the man otherwise. But that was infeasible, considering the man is no longer here to begin with.

"Okay..." you sucked in another breath and looked around—not as crowded for a prior-lunch hour. Perhaps the news just makes them feel uneasy? It decreased customer engagement, that's for sure. But if your boss was serious then... you probably shouldn't do much in the daytime that could spur alerts and possibly get you into mandatory vacation. The nighttime is most... safe, in that regard.

Maybe you could consult someone... knowledgeable, at least.

You glanced over to where Freddy's enormous golden statue was—but you weren't aiming to look at the statue in its entirety—you were looking past that, up a flight of stairs and into the Superstar Daycare.

If there's someone who knows a heck lot about things that others probably weren't disclosing to you then—the daycare attendant must know something.

The daycare attendant knows everything...

You were quick when you're determined, and you found yourself at the daycare's entrance in less than five minutes. It wasn't crowdy, not many were confident to leave their kids anywhere after the whole ordeal, and some who ACTUALLY needs to keep their kids somewhere for whatever purpose they may serve—they have nannies or relatives watching there.

During so, it appears that human staff had taken over to care for the attendees. Perhaps its another precaution or they finally allowed sunny some time off. Whatever the reason is, it just made communicating with the animatronic easier. After all, you were technically STILL part of the staff.

So you went in, nodding at the receptionist and headed straight to the area where you heard Sunny was at. It wasn't hard, with the kids playing in the ball pit, you headed straight to a door leading to the back, and a flight of stairs followed. Upon climbing the steps, you arrived at Sunny's "Greenroom" which was... well, to simply put—was a mess. You didn't care; it wasn't any of your business. The large opening up front was like a maw, it was the "castle-like" structure on the outside, the very place where Sunny was—supposedly, gonna jump out to entertain kids alike.

That's... gonna be painful if anyone were to fall off the opening, good thing the balcony had railings now—not that Sunny ever NEEDED it. But its existence clearly emphasizes how certain situation CALLS for its necessity.

"Sunny?"

"Officer (Y/N)?" like a spider, he suddenly drops upside down right beside you—it gave you a mini heart attack followed by a curse word that only leaves little to the imagination.

"Holy—what are you doing—upside down?" you looked at him up and down—well, down and up?

"I was cleaning the ceiling, too many cobwebs yet too early for Halloween! Can't you believe it? They're living rent free in here!" he jumped down, landing like a spring coiled before stabilizing on his own two feet. His demeanor never changed, still cheery, still... bright and sunny. Makes you wonder where the hell Freddy and the others were.

"I was thinking the same thing." It came out of your lips automatically that—you had to clear your throat after. Right, the objective. "Do you have time?"

"I'll always make time for you... and yeah, I'm on a one hour break. I was gonna do general cleaning buuuuuut I remember we pay humans to do labor. So, I should boss some humans around."

You raised an eyebrow at that but nonetheless, shook your head in amusement. Sunny was...sure being sunny.

Sitting on a plush beanbag he had around, he sat legs-crossed on the carpeted floor, preferring that kind of seating than anything. It must've been his usual arrangement when he's with human kids, sitting on the floor in a mimicry of a child's position—allowing him to feel a little more connected to them than not.

"Anyways, what brings you here? Surely you're not the janitor I asked for." And you've no idea if he was being serious or comedic.

"Could I talk to... Moon?"

And as if a switch had been activated, Sunny stilled for a moment. "...Why?" usually, he would follow up his words with a jest or a comment but... there was nothing. Just genuine concern.

Its not that Sunny is ashamed of being a part of Moon but... of course, even the sweetest of friends hide each of their... undesirable traits.

"You said Moon knows a lot of things since he roams at night more than you do, right? Then he must know stuff from... a year ago." You looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction somehow—Sunny was uneasy, it was easy to point that out. With Sunny's programing akin to a child's demeanor—it is beyond question that he acts like so.

"Is there any chance I can dissuade you from... this?" there was no utter jest at all—he was in silence. "Cause, you know. Moony is kinda not allowed in the daytime—"

"Just a few minutes, please? Pretty please?" and with that face, can he really say no?

Ever since you got back to the Pizzaplex, Sunny and Moon were the only ones who were comfy around you, like they knew you way more than you think. They're akin to protective friends with good advice, yet at the same time—despite their programing, they were all the wiser.

"Thirty minutes at most, I gotta get back down there by 12:30 sharp." And he walked to the wall, his long arms reaching up for a switch at the upper area of the wall. Curtains were drawn, removing whatever outside light there was, but a line of glow from under the curtain's shade bringing what visibility possible by the time the lights go out.

And the lights did go out.

With a flick of a switch, the area was engulfed in darkness, only the faint light from under the curtains were visible. You heard gears moving, shifting—metal plates against one another, a sound of a cog turning, and springs releasing pressure—and by the time your eyes managed to get accustomed to the darkness, you no longer saw Sunny's rays... instead, they were replaced with dark blue, stars, half gray of a moon face and—those red eyes.

They made your skin crawl, but a sheer blanket of warmth enveloped it—you knew who this guy was, and you trust him—them, wholeheartedly.

Just as much as Freddy.

"Time's minimal, say what you want to say." It wasn't that he was grumpy... but like the policies invokes—he probably hasn't got much experience to be out during the daytime. Its normal for the likes of him to be uncomfortable.

"Is there a security office down in the Utility Tunnels?" that was a first. Start from the general statements down to the specifics. "Was it closed off?"

"Security office number 5... it exists, but now? As far as I know, they're repurposing it for maintenance accessibility." You heard him shift and move; his raspy voice follows. "Let me guess, you're looking for Officer Vanessa?"

"How did you—"

"I leave the daycare at night to roam, I see and hear many things, and it so happened you never noticed."

Right, Moon never stays at one spot for too long. He's often on the catwalks, structure—anywhere he could go up and fly around, spooking anyone he deems fit to entertain him.

It just so happened that... he rarely comes up at you, perhaps its because Freddy instructed them to not spook you? Perhaps.

"Vanessa... Officer Vanessa..." his raspy voice trailed off as he moved in the darkness, getting himself comfortable while placing blocks on top of the table, finding himself irked by the... mess... "I remember quite a lot about her... as early as several years back, before your... accident."

Accident? So, Moon knows something about before you lost your memory? "What is it?" you urged. "What happened before my accident?"

You didn't know if accident was even a proper term—an incident? You've always felt like something was odd about your accident, especially when—there were so many lacking information that you've no idea whether or not to believe everything others says. But its not about whether or not people are lying to you—it's a question of whether or not information is being omitted from you.

Technically... it's not lying either.

"No one else remembers what happened, but Sun and I... we were disconnected, and no one cared to check our memory." Then, the shifting stopped, the heavy thud of a building block on the table echoing in the room. "Children had been going missing during that time, and Officer Vanessa refuses to cooperate with you."

You've long heard that you and Vanessa didn't get along during that time, and it all changed since—both of you didn't remember a thing. Feeling the need to be near someone with some sense of sympathy for being in a similar situation was what brought them together, but before? You had no idea how you and Vanessa acted before...

It was... a whole year since that passed...

"... Did she... have something to do with the missing children incidents...?" you asked straightforwardly. Even though Moon didn't explicitly say so—he was insinuating you to think towards that direction.

It appears... maybe... Vanessa has something to do with it?

He's insinuating anyways, maybe he's just... seeing if you could put the pieces in place and... put them back together.

But one thing dawned you—that mask. "The mask—" yes, that haunting mask— "Vanessa was wearing it... I heard there was... there was a... Vanny... is she—"

"Go above Fazer Blast... from the catwalks leading up from the north panel... There's a room there that no one goes to... perhaps..." then.. you felt red eyes on you. "Perhaps... it will hold answers..."

With that, the lights switched on, you had to cover your eyes from the sudden flash of light that blinded you—then you heard it, the sound of metal shifting—gears grinding against each other. Then... here comes Sunny, his yellow metallic rays meeting your gaze by the time you adjusted to the bright light.

"What—"

"Oh! I apologize, the lights here has a timer set in. can't have accidentally tripping lights off and scaring the children with animatronics bending within themselves now can we?" he apologized and then—pulled the curtains open. Perhaps, his performance was up—skydiving from the balcony down to the ball pit.

"Right... uh... I guess I should get going then?" you excused yourself—you didn't want to forget the clue so quick after being given THAT kind of information, right?

Vanny... you kept hearing that name. You overheard Freddy and the other animatronics mention it before—Vanny was the suspected suspect for the disappearances. And all information you could get was how she... well, this... "Vanny" is connected to a mask...

So... would it be safe to say that... that's what they're referring to?

It was a random thought that once crossed your mind but—what if Vanessa was REALLY Vanny? The mask—the odd behavior—was that how Vanny was all those years ago?

Well, two years... at best?

Either way, you bid Sunny farewell and left the daycare without much ceremony. Your aim was getting to... wherever Moon told you to go to. With the place buzzling with activity—surely, no one would suspect you gone, right?

Right.

The trip to the Fazer Blast arena was... well, it took longer than expected. The elevators were all cramped and the line to the Main Atrium was big—so to say.

But you got there, and that's what matters. The line to the Fazer Blast arena itself was even longer! But hey, you're a staff, and staffs have their own entrances. So, you slipped past them and headed to the staff's entrance in the arena. You had to be careful to NOT be part of the targets of these... well, rowdy humans as you sticked to the right side of the arena.

It took a while—considering you were actively trying not to be a target clad in white and navy blue—but you arrived at the platform leading to the sidelines where a ramp was, and after a few steps up the ramp was a flight of stairs leading directly upwards.

With each step you take, you were led further up the catwalks that oversees the entire arena. Usually, some staff would patrol here to ensure they could keep an eye on the arena in the bird's eye view, but now? Well, its just your luck that there was inherently no one at the moment. So, you stepped forward, your shoes clinking against the metal catwalk as you transverse the single-file line towards an office. It was locked off, looking as if it was abandoned. Staffs once mentioned that it was closed off for...ehem, "Structural integrity" issues, and thus—no one uses it anymore. In fear of teenagers or any other customers trying to break in for fun (well, this wasn't a surprise considering those kids were WILLING to unscrew vents just to relieve the adventurous thrill of illegal activities).

"Here goes nothing." You faced the office, making sure no cameras or—anyone who would see what you're going to do next—then with a shoulder braced, you rammed into the door—once, twice—on the third time, the lock broke free, and you nearly stumbled forward into the office. The window was covered with newspaper clippings to hide whatever was inside but—what was inside made you freeze on the spot.

On the wall, painted in purple were the graffitic words.. "VANNY". The walls were old and paint was chipping off; there were dust and cobwebs everywhere that a small cloud of dust temporarily impaired your senses. But when it clears—you could at least... try to comprehend what was inside.

But other than the obvious décor and equipment of what was expected in a security office—well, lesser, since the area was swamped with old boxes, layers of dust coloring the brown boxes with a sheen of grey. It looked like whatever could be utilized was already taken, and whatever's left—well, was left behind as is.

But nothing was more bone-chilling than the words painted on the wall. Chapping from age, wearing down from the conditions of whatever this locked room holds for. You didn't bothered asking why it ended up this way, who could you ask? The maintenance? Management?

Vanessa?

You shook your head—Moon told you to come here for a reason, and you just need to scavenge around and find it.

You took your time—not wanting to accidentally overlook crucial details that could potentially lead to whatever mystery this incidents pertain to. The missing children, Vanessa's odd behavior, and even those—memories?

What exactly had happened back then before your accident? You keep asking the same questions over and over again, hoping for your mind to receive the message and just give you a damn answer through dreams or visions but—

Whatever it is, it's connected here.

Perhaps, Moon DID know something about it, but he refused to explicitly say it out loud for—whatever circumstance or reason may be. Being here—should answer that question.

The long desk accumulated cobwebs and dust—you swore some bugs were still alive and wriggling and about. You had to cover your nose and mouth as you used a piece of paper lying around to sweep at the dust, letting the cloud form and dissipate briefly. On the desk were papers of unknown origins and purpose, newspaper clippings, ink blotches of busted pens colored the surface—then, there's a box.

You opened it—of course. The box was dusty in itself that you half-regretted opening it so briskly that a cough or two left your lips from the dust accumulation being inhaled—eugh, who knows how long that dust accumulated throughout the years?

Well, two years or... maybe a year at best.

At least now you could safely establish that this Vanny persona does exist, most evidence leads to Vanessa but—maybe there's something you're missing?

Yeah, Vanessa's a good friend, she shouldn't be Vanny.

You hope.

You peered into the box; there were old snippers of newspaper articles, old pens that were probably nonfunctioning. But what caught your interest the most was an old, leather-bound book. Thick as it were, old and—it reeks of rotting corpse.

Okay, that last part might've been an overreaction on your part.

The book was an old brown in color, you swear you could see mold forming at the corners from the years of absence in air circulation. In the center were words drawn in purple ink, "Afton". It was a journal of some sort, words written in ink, smudging from the browning pages of the once binded book—now barely holding together by a fraction. Of course, against your better judgement, your fingers pinched the cover and pulled it open. Dusty—that was very self-explanatory from the state where you found the journal, but on the first page were a new set of words written in black ink. "Mimic_1".

Of course, you didn't ponder much about the title and skimmed through the contents. The pages were full of handwritten notes, dates scattered, and some of them had taped newspaper clippings, memos, contracts printed through screenshots—and a photo of a man. Brown hair, messy. Facial hair adorning his face and yet—an eternal frown was on his expression, matching his downcast eyes. His uniform was of the same color as the words written on the cover—it was purple. This must be that Afton guy. Beside him was another man, then another. One looked happy, overalls and stripped top, a pencil perched by his ear, and dirt smeared on his face. The other man was donning a business suit, smiling like he was used to the cameras aimed at him. Underneath was a note.

*~*~

xx/xx/xxxx

Collaboration with Henry and Edwin was the headlines, but I don't think I fit in this picture. Henry engineers the animatronic's integral structures, programming the overall structure of the endoskeleton. But then again, the cases are difficult to obtain—and that's my problem. Fazbear Entertainment outsourced the outer shell with a temporary place—Murphy's Costume Manor. A temporary fix until I find something of substance to replace that... mimicry.

It took me a few weeks thereof, but although the costumes were feasible—they were unnatural, uncanny. I did my research to customize the appropriate materials to envision the blueprints Henry, and I once plotted out for Fazbear... animatronics, they're peculiar yet greatly interesting specimens. The collaboration aims to promote that silly manor's costumes, but its not going to be permanent. I'll wait for the evaluation and just say the costumes scared the kids; they'll end the collaboration in a few weeks' time. I'll show them that I can find a better alternative, and maybe something more.

W. Afton

*~*~

You blinked for a moment, wait, the costume manor? Isn't that the creepy place turned into a museum? You never knew they had a collab once with Fazbear Entertainment. But then again... what was its substance anyways?

You flipped to another page, then another—then another. But then—you stopped at a page.

*~*~

xx/xx/xxxx

An interesting concept.

Using the power of Artificial Intelligence to train the endoskeleton to program itself to accept and execute commands at mere human instructions? I've been a programmer and engineer for years and yet I always had to spend a significant amount of time to manually program every single code in every single endoskeleton assigned to me by Henry. I do not trust those insignificant wannabes to program the animatronics, lest they implant something beyond my control.

I was seething; Henry and Fazbear Entertainment began excluding me from meetings with MCM, not that I give a damn about their operations. What irks me the most is the fact that my programming prowess is being used and altered in a way that it gave way to the concept of a self-learning Artificial Intelligence system for certain endoskeletons.

They call it the Mimic_1 Project. It was laughable, the purpose of its initial creation was to entertain some certain Edwin's son. I heard them behind closed doors—Henry wants to mass produce the same technology solely for Fazbear Entertainment, and maybe suffice as some sort of toy, a playmate for his daughter. I couldn't help but storm off that day—how dare they utilize the magnificent creations of technology for what, a child's form of entertainment?

How alluding it is to think of the fact, considering the main purpose of Fazbear Entertainment is to—well, entertain children.

I'll have the... mimic project be sent to Fazbear Entertainment for initial screening, everything must be accounted for—in my sole control. I heard Fazbear Entertainment aims to repurpose an old location for a new one; a mall-type structure where they'll put 80% of this year's overall budget to in investments. In fact, they want me to test and put on the fieldwork the prototype unit for this... project. Fine, if they'll just provide me some sort of lackey then might as well make it do manual labor to save labor costs. Though they better compensate me better than this, or I might as well just break them apart and put them back together.

Afton.

*~*~

This one... you don't know how to feel about this. This must've been the entirety of the mimic project mentioned.

You browsed further, others were just journal notes of business operations and—well, most majority were of the mimic project. But one final note left you double-taking.

*~*~

One day, all who goes away will come back. Artificial Intelligence is not sentient without a core—a remnant of what they're ought to become. I did many crimes in my life, but my objective must move forward. I will come back; I Always have and always do.

A fToN

*~*~

Attached underneath it was... horrifying. A newspaper clipping of a murder—a series of murders, and the perpetrator was said to vanish without a trace, presumed also dead—this was...

The first missing children incidents... dated June 1985. It was nearly the same as the missing children incidents here in the Pizzaplex...

The handwriting though... each time an entry ends, the ending signature... its not consistent, like someone was learning the handwriting...

Why are you even thinking about this? Your handwriting changes all the time too! It just depends on your mood and time pressure.

What's this gotta do with Vanny or Vanessa? What's the point in this?

"Officer (Y/N)?" you got startled and closed the book, turning to look at the source of the voice with the book behind your back. It's a good thing that the newspaper clippings were scattered—lying around to hide what you were reading a moment ago.

In the doorway stood one of the 8 foot tall animatronics you thought were left in the Main Atrium during this hour. Blue in color, eyes of hot pink. The pink over the body casing accentuated by the lights overhead above the catwalks, much less the shadows casted down in long lines on the floor, emphasizing his presence in the otherwise devoid room where lights were reliant to the outside overhead sensors applied.

"You—" you held back, shaking your head, blinking away the shock in your eyes—"What are you doing here?" what else could you say?

Above all else, he's the least you expected to show up and tell you off in mingling in places you shouldn't even linger around. Either a human co-worker or an animatronic, you expected a scolding at least.

"Just taking a stroll, until I saw movement in the catwalks." He tried to peer at what you're doing, but you didn't want to show him just... yet.

Bonnie was... the least you'd expect who could support you in your questionable endeavors.

"So, what are you up to? Maintenance duty?" he presumed... at least, that's what you thought.

You eyed the desk—newspaper clippings and... well, useless papers scattered around. "Yes... I'm just, uh... looking for an old manual. I'll probably ask management to clean this place..."

"I think manuals are relocated in the east wing offices." He seems to be buying the excuse, that's good. "The graffiti should be removed by the time management takes this place seriously." He noted, glancing at the wall where the name was painted over the wall. "Moreover, it's a bad idea to search this place alone, who knows what bugs and critters live in these moldy corners."

Was it a jest or... was there something else being hinted here?

"No one's around, no one would hear. So tell me, what are you even doing in a place like this?" he repeated.

And for some reason, perception was the main antagonist of any assumption. There was nothing that could be hidden within plain sight and you were well aware of your inability to keep things hidden. Like an open book, you were far too obvious for your own good.

"Something's off about Vanessa, I'm investigating." You limitedly replied, not willing to provide many details that could contribute to a potential revelation of too much information that could jeopardize your entire cause. "She's been AWOL for a few days now, as per management."

And if he asked why of all places would you search for a missing person here? It would be no doubt—you'll eventually get caught. Holding onto some semblance of hope that—your intentions won't be seen through.

Can't he JUST go away and NOT question the most obvious things—

"Are you busy tonight?"

"...Pardon?" that was unexpected.

"I mean... will you take the night shift tonight?" you didn't answer immediately. You already took the night shift last night, and then—currently taking the dayshift even though in essence, you weren't attending to any of your daytime duties.

So... a catch up on rest for a few hours would suffice. "Yeah, I'll be here." Your mind contemplated your decisions—would it be advisable to—

"Let's meet, Roxy's Raceway. Around... an hour after midnight." That was sudden, and yet—

Before you managed to reply, he was already walking off to the catwalks, leaving the premises without waiting for some semblance of approval on your part. A part of you was tempted to tell Freddy about this but at the same time...

Pah, how bad could it be? Maybe the guy just wants to bond with you, just like how you use your worktime to accompany Monty at some hours of the night. You'll catch up with the rest later.

There's nothing to worry about.

You hope.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello! So, I was kind of excited in publishing this one cause I found a lot of font styles to mess with the journal but whoohooo Wattpad says no. So, I'll just drop the screenshots lol.

And like, we are ALMOST at the END peopleeee! Reeee!