Disclaimer: this will mostly be based off of Markiplier's gameplay.

Freddy Fazbear Pizzaplex
Ken's POV
The last thing I remembered was jumping after Chica when she fell into the garbage compactor, with Music Man clinging desperately to my shoulder. The shadows seemed to reach up to devour me, and the odors assaulted me from all sides. I remembered closing my eyes and wishing that it was all over, that I'd at least land on something cushy.

The next thing I knew, someone was shaking me awake and trying to talk to me. Whatever I was laying on was squishy and soft, and I immediately wanted the person to stop shaking me so I could go back to sleep. I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night, what was a few more minutes...

"Excuse me? Little boy? Little boy~?"

I slowly began to realize that the voice calling me was feminine and had a technical lilt, like PIXAL's voice, though this new person sounded nothing like her. The hands that were shaking me, I found out, were also hard and cylindrical. I also began to realize that whatever room I was in stank, like, REALLY bad, so it definitely wasn't a bedroom of sorts.

And as I took inventory of my body, I realized that I hurt all over.

I tried to raise myself on my elbows to address my present company, but my body protested at every turn. What happened before I'd jumped into the garbage compactor was a blur, but I think I would remember feeling THIS bad. I was hurting in places I hadn't been hurting before. My head was also throbbing and I groaned as I tried to raise it - I must have hit it somewhere along the way.

"Whoa, slow down there, little buddy," The feminine voice said again. Appendages that were as hard and cylindrical as the hands that had been shaking me wrapped around my midsection and shoulders, guiding me to a sitting position. "As far as I can tell, you fell down the garbage compactor - that's at least 35 yards! You're lucky if you didn't break a bone or two!"

I grit my teeth at the pain, but I was still trying to place the voice of my caregiver. It sounded strangely familiar - I'd heard it before, hadn't I? Positive and bubbly, with a nearly unnoticeable sound like a chicken buck. Could it be...

My eyes finally snapped open to confirm my suspicion. Sure enough, there she was in all her dirty chrome glory: Chica, the main guitarist of the Mega Pizzaplex band.

Who was also one of the animatronics who were hunting me.

For a second I flailed against her grip, thinking she had finally caught me and was going to finish the job. Her pink-lined eyes widened in surprise and she tightened her grip on me, which only made me flail harder. "Hey hey hey, easy!" She exclaimed. "I'm only trying to help!"

"You've said that before!" I growled weakly; my flailing was igniting all of my injuries. "You lied."

Chica tilted her head inquisitively at me, causing her full green earrings hang off of her head. "I have?" She asked gently. "I'm sorry... I don't remember that. Come to think of it, I actually don't remember much about tonight."

Then the events of what happened before I jumped came flooding back to me - the kitchen, the FazerBlaster, the bullseye - and relief caused me to sag in her hard arms. "That's right..." I muttered, mustering the strength to smile up at her. "I... fixed you."

Chica's eyes seemed to open even more. "FIXED me?" She emphasized. "I think you have some explaining to do, little boy."

I sighed and closed my eyes against the impending headache. "There's a lot to explain - where do you want me to start?" I asked her, opening my eyes again.

"Well, you can probably provide some insight into what I've been doing all night," Chica began, glancing off to the side as if in thought. "But I'd also like to know how we ended up in the garbage compactor and-" A familiar spider bot crawled from her back and onto her shoulder, and she lifted her gaze to it. "Why this little guy was with you."

"Music Man!" I exclaimed. My smile widened as I stretched a shaking hand out to my latest ally. The tiny bot immediately jumped from Chica's shoulder to my hand and scurried across my arm to my shoulder, which was upright thanks to Chica's arm. I stretched my other hand across my chest to offer it my knuckle. "Are you okay, buddy?" Its cymbal hands pressed themselves against my knuckle and shook it slightly, signifying it was perfectly fine. I laughed slightly and nuzzled my temple against its head.

Chica watched this exchange for a minute, her head still slightly tilted. "Yeah, about that," She finally asked. "How exactly did you find a Music Man prototype? Last I heard, they were on display in Rockstar Row." Her gaze shifted off to the side in thought. "Actually, I take that back - the exhibit was discontinued after a few of the prototypes were stolen during a weird robbery."

"Weird?" I inquired. I had never heard "weird" and "robbery" used in the same sentence. "Weird how, exactly?"

"There was no sign of a break in," Chica explained. "And the display case had been broken from the INSIDE, as if the prototypes had just woken up from a nap and went off on a stroll. Except, you know," Her tone turned sheepish. "They never turned up, and the exhibit disappeared after them."

My gut told me that the prototypes had most likely been hacked and had indeed wandered off by themselves, but my gut also told me to keep that theory to myself for the time being. "That IS weird," I agreed, thinking back to my numerous times in Rockstar Row; I hadn't seen anything that even remotely resembled Music Man. "Though that would explain why I didn't see any other prototypes in Rockstar Row." My eyes shifted to my companion on my shoulder. "This is the only Music Man I know." The tiny robot lifted on its many feet and clicked its teeth proudly.

Chica sat back on her knees a little bit. "You've... been in Rockstar Row?" She asked haltingly.

"I've been all over the Pizzaplex," I admitted. "Well, that's actually an exaggeration - it feels like I've been all over, though."

If Chica had been surprised by my earlier revelations, she was absolutely floored by this new bit of information. "A-all... over...?" She stammered. Her arms faltered and nearly set me down hard, but a pained grunt from my gritted teeth had her picking me right back up again. "Now you DEFINITELY have to explain what's going on!" She told my helpless self firmly. "What in pizza's name are you doing in Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex after hours?"

I groaned. "Believe me, it wasn't by choice..."

So I told her everything. The bloodbath that went on after hours; Vanessa's role as butcher; the animatronics' involvement; how Luis had figured it all out and created Project Reboot; how Foxy and Bonnie got decommissioned for being his test subjects, and how Luis himself was killed shortly thereafter; how I entered the equation and met Freddy; how I'd been running from Chica and the others all night; how I'd found Project Reboot in Parts and Service; how I'd acquired the FazerBlaster and used it on both her and Music Man.

I told her all of it. I didn't leave out a single detail, though her expression through her eyes told me that she wished I had.

When I got to the part about the FazerBlaster, I panicked for a second and searched the trash around us, not remembering what I'd done with it. Luckily Music Man reached down with a tiny foot and tapped the front of my coat, which emitted a strange clunking sound. I breathed a sigh of relief as I took it out, remembering that I had stuffed it there to protect it from the jump, though whether or not Project Reboot was still in one piece was an entirely different matter. With Chica watching, I removed the gold siding to peer inside; my pulse finally calmed down when I saw the green computer chip in perfect condition.

I set the toy gun in my lap and wrapped up my summary of the night's events. "...and then I accidentally started the trash compactor - don't give me that look, it really was an accident! I was able to keep you from being crushed, but I wasn't quick enough to keep you from falling in. Music Man and I jumped in after you, though! So... yeah, that's pretty much how we got here."

During the explanation, enough of my strength had returned for me to sit up on my own. Music Man and I sat quietly across from Chica, who was taking her time to digest this new info. Her emotions weren't easy to decipher as far as animatronics go, though her pink-painted eyelids provided some insight. First they were high in shock, then they were slanted in anger, then they were slanted the other way in sadness, and then they leveled in what I hoped was acceptance.

She was quiet for so long, I eventually felt it necessary to probe her, "Chica? Are you okay?"

No sound came from her for a good solid minute; her gaze remained on the trash between us. When she finally spoke, she was a far cry from the perky chicken every seven year old girl looked up to. "I... I don't want to believe what you told me. But I just... I have to admit that it all makes sense. My memory gaps, the strange happenings around the Pizzaplex, all of it. I've even seen red handprints on the walls, but I've always thought some kids had simply put their hands in their pizzas and decided to get creative." She giggled, though it was more forced than anything. "We all have those moments, right?"

"Not me," I said automatically; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Music Man shake its head.

Chica stuttered for a moment before regaining her stride. "I guess I just didn't want to believe that something THIS horrible could happen here, of all places. You don't expect something like this to happen in a place dedicated to making kids happy, do you?"

I shook my head; she must have seen me, because she kept going. "If it all lines up, then it MUST be true. And if it must be true, then... I've been a real monster." Her gaze finally lifted to look me straight in the eye. "Kid... I am SO sorry for what I did to you. You must have felt terrified, running around the Pizzaplex, knowing me and the others were after you. And to think... this isn't the first time we've done something like this..." Her gaze fell again, and she covered her face with her hands; something that resembled crying came from her beak.

It may be weird to feel sympathy for something made of wire and metal, but that's what I was feeling for Chica. She'd just had her entire world turned on its head; she had built up this persona of a character loved by all only to find out that she becomes a lost child's worst nightmare at night. None of it was her fault, of course, but she still felt guilty. And after what I'd witnessed tonight, I couldn't blame her.

I reached out to place my hand on her magenta shoulder pad, and Music Man took the opportunity to crawl across my arm to perch supportingly on next to her head. "Chica... what's done is done," I said in what I hoped was a supportive tone. "The past is in the past. But you can make up for it, right here and right now. Help ME escape... PLEASE."

Chica's eyes slowly came out from behind her hands to stare at me. If she could cry, I got the feeling that her big blue eyes would be filled with tears at the moment. "You'd really trust me?" She asked tentatively. "Even after I was so awful to you?"

I laughed bitterly; not at her, but at the whole situation. "Honestly, I don't think I have a choice," I told her truthfully. "But what happened wasn't your fault. And we can end it all tonight. Help me escape, and I promise - I'll make sure you and your friends will never have to do anything this heinous ever again."

Chica blinked. "Promise?"

"Promise," I said nonchalantly enough, as though her decision wasn't that big of a deal, but I was secretly desperately hoping that she would say she'd help me.

Chica's hands fully lowered from her face as she contemplated her next move. She was quiet for so long, my heart dropped to my stomach as I considered the possibility that she might not want to help me. But then her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and her eyelids slanted into a determined expression as she whipped her gaze back up to me. "Alright!" She boasted; every shred of the broken and crying chicken from before was gone. "Let's do it!"

I smiled bright and Music Man clapped its cymbals together joyfully; my hand was still attached to Chica's shoulder, and it scurried back over my arm to my shoulder. "Thanks, Chica," I told her gratefully. "You don't know how much this means to me!"

"You can tell me when we get you out of here," She said cheerfully, getting to her feet. Her large chicken feet flattened the trash beneath us as she reached her large hand out to me. "Come on - we can't help the others AND get you out if we're not on the main floor!"

I stuffed the FazerBlaster back into my coat before grabbing her hand and tried to pull myself up, but I stumbled and nearly fell forward. Chica caught and bucked in concern while Music Man repositioned itself worriedly on my back. I wanted to tell them I was okay, but the shooting sensation in my left ankle said otherwise. "I... think... the fall... twisted... my ankle..." I stammered through the fiery pain.

"Oh no! I-I'll scan you, just to be sure!" Chica declared in a rush. Her eyes lit up in a manner that reminded me of when I'd first met Freddy, scanning me from head to toe. "Scan complete," She announced when she was done. "Yep - you've got a sprain. We gotta get you to a First Aid Station, or at least find a First Aid kit. The closest one I know of is in Parts and Service."

I winced, my ankle already throbbing at the probability of such a long journey. "H-how far away are we?" I dared to ask.

"Oh, not too far!" Chica assured me. "Just a few flights of stairs, a couple of itty-bitty tunnels to go through, and BAM! Before you know it, we'll be in Parts and Service!"

The throbbing intensified. "That still sounds like a lot of walking," I complained. I eyed her pink/white shell. "I don't suppose you can carry me, can you?"

"I don't think so," Chica admitted sadly. "I don't have a stomach hatch like Freddy, and while my endoskeleton IS sturdy, I probably won't be able to carry you for more than ten minutes."

"Don't you give piggy back rides to little kids all the time?" I shot back.

"I think you're a little bigger than most of those kids," Chica replied evenly.

I recoiled from the prospect of a longer than ten minute walk, but my ears caught on something she'd said before. "Freddy!" I exclaimed joyfully. "I'll just call him down here - I'm sure he'll help us out!" I lifted my wrist to my face - thankfully the orange watch hadn't been damaged during the fall - and tried to dial up Freddy, but only static came through.

"Yeah, signals don't work very well down here," Chica informed me as I lowered my wrist, disappointed. "We're too far beneath the Pizzaplex. We'll just have to make do." Without further explanation, she looped my arm around her neck and gave me what I assumed was an open-beaked smile. "Don't worry - just call me Crutch Chica!"

I wasn't sure about the arrangement, but I didn't have many options. "Okay..." I said slowly as I tested my weight with her as my crutch - there was still pain, though not nearly as bad as it would be if I was forced to walk by myself. It would suffice, hopefully. "Can we leave now? It stinks down here."

"Sure thing~!" Chica sang, seeming as eager to get out of that place as I was. As we turned to leave, though, she suddenly stopped and looked at me. "Actually, now that I think about it, I never learned your name."

The memory of her creepily calling my name while she was chasing me echoed in my ears, but I pushed it down. "It's Ken. Ken Midori," I told with a grin.

"Ken Mi-DO-ree," Chica sounded out before shooting me her best impression of a smile. "Nice to properly meet you, Ken!"

"Nice to properly meet you too, Chica."

So we started our trek. At the end of the room we'd landed in was a roll-up door, and beyond that was a platform that led around a high drop. One corner had a flashlight charging station, which we briefly stopped at so I could charge my flashlight. We continued along the platform for a length, turning this way and that, before we came to an elbow where it veered sharply away from the wall.

There was a hole in the wall. In that hole was the face of nightmares.

It looked like a disembodied security bot head, but the eyes were glowing instead of dim. The chrome of its face was dirtied beyond recognition, and someone had gone through the time and effort to paint a black mouth with razor sharp teeth just beneath the holes of its eyes.

"What IS that?" I asked incredulously, though something told me that I really didn't want to know. Music Man shivered on my shoulder and clinked its teeth agitatedly.

"Don't know, but let's not stick around to say hello," Chica told me; she quickly steered us away from the wall and the hole with the creepy head.

We finally came to a wire fence that was passable via a gate with a Freddy-head button. Chica reached out to press it, but nothing happened. She pressed again and again - the gate refused to open. "That's so weird," She muttered after her fifth attempt. "These doors are nearly never inaccessible. No one ever comes down here, anyway..."

"It's gotta be Vanny," I growled, my anger simmering at the mention of my hunter. "She must have assumed I would eventually make my way down here and thought oh hey, I'd better not make this easy for him!"

Chica giggled, making me whip my head up to her. "First of all, your girl voice is horrible," She listed, using one of her fingers to boop me on the nose. "Second of all, don't worry! These doors just need generators to activate the buttons, and I know where they are."

I squinted at her. "How often do you come down here?" I inquired.

"Here we go!" Chica boasted, ignoring the question.

She led me down an adjoining corridor that led to another room lined with trash. Though over in the corner, this one had a generator that greatly resembled those I'd turned on in the Daycare. Trash crunched under foot as we made our way over, releasing odors that had me forgetting what fresh air smelled like.

Something caught my eye, though. In another corner of the room was a large tunnel-like structure; a faint pink light could be seen from within its depths. I stopped in my tracks, causing Chica to stop and turn to me quizzically. "You seem to come down a lot," I noted, indicating the tunnel. "Any chance you know what that is?"

Chica glanced at the tunnel with the mysterious pink light and her eyes widened just the tiniest bit. "N-no! I-I have no idea what that is!" She claimed, though her volume was WAY too loud. "I-it must be another trick by Vanny to throw us off course! Better not pay attention to it! Come on, let's GO."

She started to pull me towards the generator, but I wasn't about to let this slide. Chica obviously knew more than what she was letting on. I stood my ground and pointed my arm towards the enclave. "You're up, Music Man," I told my passenger. The small robot made a brave noise with its teeth and crawled down the length of my arm to my outstretched hand, where it jumped off and scurried into the tunnel.

"You little - HEY WAIT!" Chica yelled, briefly letting go of me in order to lunge for Music Man.

"OW OW OW," I cried out as gravity applied weight to my ankle. Chica's nurse instincts overpowered her need to keep her secret safe and she picked me back up, albeit begrudgingly.

In the span of a few seconds, Music Man had jumped off of my arm, hurried to the tunnel, and was already hurrying back, dragging something behind it. When it got back to me, it crawled up my pant leg and continued up my back to my shoulder. Safely perched, it swung what it had found over my arm so it rested against my chest. With Chica still holding my left arm, I awkwardly reached up with my right hand and plucked the item from Music Man's grasp. It turned out to be a chibi Chica plushie; I remembered seeing several of these in Chica's room in Rockstar Row.

But what was it doing all the way down here?

"Got anything to say now, Chica?" I asked her, lifting the plushie so she could see it properly.

Chica physically shrank back from the plushie, glaring at Music Man over my head. "Traitor," She grouched.

"Hey, don't call Music Man a traitor," I said with a smug grin. "It's just my right hand man. Give me some, right hand man!" I held the plushie with my thumb, pinky, and ring finger, holding my last two fingers up to Music Man. Its head tilted curiously at the gesture. "I-it's a high five," I instructed it. "So you use one of your hands - or cymbals, in your case - and press it against my hand." It slowly directed one of its cymbal hands away from its body to gently rest against my fingers. "Almost, but you gotta do it hard and fast enough to make a clapping noise." It pulled away and tried again, this time creating a noise similar to a clap. "There you go, buddy!"

While we were distracted, Chica took advantage of our small banter to snatch the plushie from my weak grip. "I - I swear," She stuttered, holding it up so we were seeing double. "I have no idea where this limited edition medium-size Glamrock Chica plushie came from!" She tossed said item over her shoulder, but the damage had been done.

I stared evenly at her, declaring my intent with a simple firm "CHICA." Music Man pressed its cymbals together in its attempt at a stern expression.

The chicken refused to meet our eyes, withdrawing into herself. I realized this was probably a sensitive topic for her and softened my approach. "Chica," I said gently, laying the hand that was still in her grasp comfortingly against her shell. "I don't really want to push you, but if what you're hiding is dangerous in any way, you may need to tell us. We need to learn to trust each other if we want to get through the night, don't we?"

Chica glanced timidly at me. "It's not that it's necessarily dangerous," She admitted quietly. "It's just... How about I just show you?"

So she carefully guided me over to the tunnel entrance, and together we peered at what was inside. To my surprise, the pink light was coming from a strip of pink LED lights that had been strung lovingly against the wall of the tunnel. A pizza box was ready and open, with a few pieces of suspiciously green pizza already missing. A handful of brightly colored paper littered the ground, lined with something that looked like binary code.

It was a secret hideaway. No wonder Chica didn't want to show it to me. I whipped my gaze to her, guilt welling up inside of me. "Chica, I - I am so sorry-"

"No, it's fine," Chica said in a resigned tone. "It was probably only a matter of time before this was found, anyway." She gazed upon her secret spot with a mixture of love and nostalgia. "I come down here when I need to get away. And you've seen my room in Rockstar Row - it's not exactly private. Sometimes they throw entire pizzas down here because the kids don't eat them before the day is over. It's such a waste of food, so I, um... clean it up for them. And sometimes I get lonely down here, so I brought a friend down here to keep me company. A friend that... really understands me."

The Chica plushie. No one understands Chica better than herself.

Chica closed her eyes lowered her head in shame. "Go ahead - call me names," She said thickly. "I've heard it all from the maintenance workers. You should hear what they call me when they clean my endoskeleton. 'Chick-Pig, Trashy, Disgusting, Crusty Chicken'. They don't think I can hear them, but I do."

"That sounds awful," I said emphatically.

"I know, right?" Chica burst out. She sniffled before continuing. "Just because I'm an animatronic doesn't mean I don't have FEELINGS, for pizza's sake!"

She started sniffling, so I gave her an awkward one-arm hug. "Chica?" I eventually spoke up when she started to quiet down. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you like to eat... for lack of a better term, the trash?"

Chica breathed deeply before explaining. "I don't really know WHY I like it. I just see the kids eating all of the pizza, cookies, nachos, and it all looks so GOOD. I know animatronics can't feel hunger, but I feel something like that when I see all the food." She sighed. "I can't eat the food the kitchens serve in front of the kids because I don't want to them to think any less of me, so I... eat what's left over."

I wrapped my arms around her tighter and Music Man climbed onto her shoulders. "Chica, there's nothing wrong with indulging yourself a little," I told her softly. "And the maintenance workers have no right to make fun of who you are."

"But I'm supposed to be associated with fitness," She told me stubbornly. "How can I inspire kids to be healthy when I can't help but stuff myself?"

"Lots of people who are associated with fitness like to indulge themselves from time to time," I told her. "Trust me - one of my friends is a guy who's practically a preteen giant with muscles on muscles. His family owns a dojo with dozens of students, and he's an inspiration to a lot of people."

Chica stared at me. "How is that supposed to make me feel better?" She asked incredulously.

I rolled my eyes at her impatience. "The thing is, I once saw him eating a hotdog with ketchup and mustard at a public event. Everyone could see him eating it, yet they were still singing his praises the next day. Their opinion of him hadn't changed in the least."

Big blue eyes continued staring at me, occasionally glancing off to the side as if in thought. "What's your point?"

"My point is, your eating habits don't make you who you are if you don't LET them make you who you are," I told her firmly. "You are NOT what you eat."

"I thought that was the saying," Chica pointed out. "'You are what you eat.'"

I laughed slightly. "Hey, if that were true," I jested. "I'd be a freshly baked loaf of Bey Bread from my other friend's bakery by now!" I patted my hip with my free hand in good nature. Music Man clicked its teeth together in what almost sounded like laughter.

Chica laughed too, but it didn't last for long. "Meanwhile, I'm just a trashy chicken," She said sullenly, staring at her orange toes.

"While it IS important to enjoy things like sweets and savory snacks in moderation - and it's probably not a good idea to eat things out of the TRASH," I taught her, thinking back to some of my Health class lessons. "No one should be able to judge you just by what you eat. They should look farther than your appetite - get to know the real you!"

Chica stared off into space, her beak slightly open as she contemplated my statement. I'd surprised myself with what I'd said. Sure all of it was true and I'd meant every word, but I'd said it with a firmness I didn't know I had. This night has been full of surprises, I quietly mused.

Finally Chica took a deep breath and looked at me with a grateful expression. "Thanks, Kenny," She thanked me. "I really needed to hear that." She raised her dirty head to the ground high above our heads and boasted proudly, "So Glamrock Chica likes to EAT sometimes. SO WHAT? Get over it, Pizzaplex!"

I laughed at her defiant attitude and patted her midsection with my free hand. "Good for you, Chica!" I congratulated her; Music Man clapped its cymbals a few times before scurrying back to my shoulder.

My gaze drifted to the paper at our feet, with the dizzying lines of ones and zeroes. "Hey, Chica, what does that binary code mean?" I decided to ask.

Chica paused in her self-congratulation to glance down at the paper. "I... have no idea," She admitted, sounding confused. "It looks like gibberish to me." She reached out and toed the pile of paper with her foot. "Come to think of it... I don't remember ever bringing paper down here. Wouldn't do any good - I'd probably get it messy, anyway."

My blood ran cold; even Music Man stiffened on my shoulder. "Well... if you didn't bring these down here..." I said slowly. "Then that means..."

"SOMEONE ELSE HAS BEEN DOWN HERE?!" Chica cried, nearly making me go deaf. "SOMEONE ELSE HAS BEEN USING MY SAFE SPACE?! DO PEOPLE HAVE NO DECENCY?!"

"We've gotta get out of here!" I told her, yelling slightly thanks to her outburst; my ears were ringing. "Where is that generator, again?!"

We found the generator and flipped the switch, then hurried back to the wire gate. This time when Chica pressed the button, the gate swung open and we advanced farther into the basement of the Pizzaplex. Soon we came to a group of pipes that formed a bridge over a deep hole in the floor.

A hole that was filled with bots that sported the same creepy faces as the one we'd seen in the wall.

"Seriously, what ARE those things?" I asked, leaning over slightly in an attempt to get a better look at them.

"Don't know and don't wanna find out," Chica said quickly, tightening her grip protectively.

The pipes were a little tricky to go over with Chica acting as my crutch, but we eventually made it to safety. We continued on until we reached another wire gate. Like the last one, this gate didn't open when we pushed the button, so we had to go hunting for another generator. This one had us entering a tunnel made entirely of garbage, with nothing but rocks and haphazardly placed wooden support beams holding up the ceiling. The smells made me positive I was going to get a nosebleed sometime soon.

"HOW is there so much trash down here?" I asked in disgust after what I hoped was a piece of tinfoil fell on my head. I eyed the trash above us suspiciously.

"Since the Pizzaplex is so large, we throw out nearly ten tons of garbage every day," Chica explained, sounding ashamed of her home. "In fact, we throw out so much that every garbage-removal company within a twenty mile radius simply refuses to do business with us. So..." She glanced at the walls of trash carefully. "We've had to get creative."

After the fifth turn and still no sign of the generator, I felt the need to comment, "You could have been a little less creative."

We eventually found the generator and pulled the switch, but that meant we had to go BACK through the maze of trash to the wire gate. The smell was getting so unbearable, I debated pulling the neck of my coat over my nose, but worried that it would only make it worse. I resolved to taking quick, short breaths and barreling forward with Chica.

The wire gate opened easily with power restored to the button and we continued on. A few more twists and turns brought us to a door set into the concrete wall. I took the liberty to reach out with my free hand and pull it open wide enough for me to peek into the room beyond.

When I saw what was in the room, I let go and let the door slam shut.

Chica jerked back as the closing of the door echoed through the high space. "What's wrong, Ken?" She asked me. "What's in there?"

My hands were shaking and I could barely speak. "S-security... b-b-bots," I was able to get out, pointing a quivering finger at the door.

Chica cocked her head in confusion. "Is that all?" She asked condescendingly; I could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't worry, Ken - as long as you're with me, they won't bother you! They wouldn't dare confront one of the main mascots!"

I shook my head rapidly, causing Music Man to shake on my shoulder. "N-not regular..." I stammered. "S-same face a-as..." Unable to say any more, I gestured behind us. To the way we came. To the pit. To the hole.

To the nightmare bots.

Realization caused Chica's eyes to widen. "Ohhhh..." She drew out. "Yeah, something tells me that they won't like me." For a second, we stood there and simply stared dumbly at the door, unsure of how to continue. "If they won't respond to either of us, how do we get past them?"

Now the initial shock was wearing off, I felt the boldness I'd been working with all night. "We'll just have to sneak past them," I told Chica. "We'll advance when their backs are turned, and duck out of sight when we need to. There's gotta be a bunch of places in there that we can use to hide."

Chica gave me a wide eyed stare. "Is that what you've been doing all night?" She asked, sounding disturbed. "Because that honestly sounds exhausting."

I groaned and leaned heavily on her, feeling said exhaustion in my bones. "You have no idea..."

So I gave Chica a quick 101 in the art of sneaking around. We ducked through the door and kept our eyes out for the nightmare bots. When they fell back, we advanced. When they were closing in, we hid in storage bins until they were gone. I had been doing this since I was dragged into the Pizzaplex, so the actions came easily to me, but Chica seemed to be having a hard time keeping up. At times, our roles were reversed and I was HER crutch, helping to pull her along. Music Man simply hid in my hair, occasionally peeking out to check our progress before slipping back in.

"Seriously... you've been doing this... ALL NIGHT?" Chica repeated when we stopped for a breath in a walkway after we'd bypassed the nightmare bots. For an animatronic, she was really out of breath. "Not even my... Mazercise... attraction is... this action... packed!"

"Clearly you need a new attraction!" I told her proudly. "Come on - the main floor can't be that far now!"

The walkway lead to a flight of stairs, which lead to another platform. The presence of garbage was gradually diminishing, which both me and my nose were grateful for. We had to be getting close to our goal!

Then we came to an ordinary looking set of doors, though what laid beyond them was anything but. It was a space with high ceilings similar to the space we'd just left, but that was where the similarities ended. Every visible surface was covered in the same colorful paper we'd found at Chica's hideaway. On mounds of nightmare security bot heads, on metal pillars that supported the ceiling, on numerous desks littered throughout the room, even on the floor, which crinkled underfoot as we made our way further into the space. It was like a confetti cannon exploded in there.

"Well, now we know where the mysterious paper came from," I felt the need to point out.

"Okay, I don't know WHERE this came from," Chica told me, her head making creaking noises as she swung it to take in the sights; Music Man was making the same noise on my shoulder. "But I SWEAR it wasn't here the last time I came down here."

I noticed a paper with wobbly handwriting that read THIS IS MY HOME LEAVE. "After what's happened tonight, do you think you would have remembered even if you DID see it?"

Chica thought for a bit about that. "Fair point," She conceded. "Do you think this is where Vanny hangs out?"

Another one in my line of sight read GROWN UPS ONLY. "I don't know. I found where she sleeps in Fazer Blast, though I guess this could be like a secret brainstorming area for her, or something."

"Not so secret," Chica harrumphed, pointing at a large set of stairs in the far corner of the room. "Those stairs lead to the laundry room, and there's no separating door - literally anyone can simply walk down here and see this."

I pulled my gaze away from a paper with the misspelling I CAM FEEL and looked towards the stairs. "Really? Those lead up to the laundry room? I don't remember seeing stairs in there."

"You've been in the...?" Chica started to say before catching herself with a sigh. "You know what, I'm just not gonna question it by this point."

"Good call," I agreed.

We started up the stairs not expecting much, though we were sorely mistaken by the third landing. It was large and sturdy enough to fit an entire family table.

A family that was currently sitting around it.

Not a human family, thank the First Spinjitzu Master; a family made of bots. One sat at the head of the table and had blue bulges on the sides of its face in the style of hair - clearly the mother. One sat at the mother's left and wore a tap hat - most likely a father figure. One sat at the mother's right and had head attachments in the style of pigtails, reminiscent of the ones I'd seen in the Bonnie Bowl ice cream parlor - a daughter, perhaps. Next to the daughter was a bot wearing a comical helicopter hat and a pin striped shirt - a brother, maybe?

There was another bot sitting next to the father, but it had no head. No clue what it was supposed to be.

Our little group stared at the scene for a good minute or two before deciding not to comment and move on. As we moved up the stairs though, I found that my mind still remained with the family and the person who'd put it all together. The bunny suit, the desire to kill, the numerous hidden rooms, the delusional papers, and now this? What exactly was going through Vanny's mind?

Something told me that I didn't want to know.

—————

6756 words.

Chica joined the pack! And I wonder what Xander would say if he knew his lifestyle inspired her...

Also, announcement: I have something really special in mind for a Christmas chapter, so I'll try to get a chapter out every week in order to build up until then. If not, well, it wouldn't be the first time that I'd posted a late holiday update.

Here's to hoping!