The Puppet animatronic comes bow-wrapped in a neat, large box frill with ribbons and stinking of death. Sans has a particular feeling that this might be one of the more dangerous animatronics, considering the bright, bold text that's attached to a creaky old music box playing a harmless, repetitive tune.
Sans sends a note to Liz to buy a better music box for this thing as he sets down his usual bag of entertainment for the animatronics. Chew toys with an extra squeak, a monitor to run random cartoons on, and some children's books he stole from Toriel's room the other day.
He's going to see how much humanity the dead people retain.
Can they comprehend reading like they once had? Did they have a sense of self-preservation, and if so, how twisted had it become?
He's a scientist, still at heart. It's annoying as hell, and messes with his very evident self-preservation skills.
Sans doesn't bother to open the box if he doesn't have to. He redirects the music box to his phone, and for the first two hours of the night, he works on a code that'll auto-rewind it for him. Because if there's one thing Sans likes to do, it's to be lazy wherever he can be.
That's how the first night with the Puppet goes. The music box runs decently with the code he set, the animatronics are busy staring empty gazed towards the colorful children's show that plays on his PC, and Sans is able to relax for the most part.
He's able to find out the answer to his question the next day. Animatronics could read. Well, at least the ones willing to humor Sans' question could. Bonnie is the best reader, monotonously spitting out sentence after sentence with a bored tone. Chica, on the other hand, struggles the most. After asking for more details, Sans comes to the startling conclusion that Chica likely had dyslexia before they died.
And if that isn't a revelation. An animatronic. With dyslexia. Sans isn't sure if he should be jumping for joy from the technical and biological leaps in science Fazbear Entertainment is making. Instead of any of that, Sans hums with acknowledgment at the chicken robot and goes home.
He's started taking notes about their personalities, too. Anything he notices about them. Sans isn't sure when exactly he's going to do a grand reveal and drag the establishment down. Without the code, it's more so a murder-suicide right now.
So, in conclusion, Sans comes to the same exact decision he has been for weeks now: not yet.
It's frustrating. So Sans writes.
In sloppy comic sans font, the details are etched out. Freddy is a quiet, brooding, wallflower. Sits. Stands. Watches. That sort of person. A child, Sans often has to remind himself. Probably some sort of quiet kid who sat in the back of the classroom with their own imagination as their best friend. He was like that when he was younger. Daydreamed away classes because hey, that was easier than talking to others sometimes.
Chica is an outgoing sociopath who likely struggled with food in their childhood. Considering the meltdown they had when the cook dared to take out the trash during a restock period, food was something they struggled with. It's interesting, he thinks, how their mental disabilities and traumas from their 'alive' days translated into the metal bodies.
Which means more might have stuck during the transition. It leaves a sour taste in Sans' mouth, and the notes meant to get them disabled and taken down burn in his pocket.
Bonnie is a shy, music loving, calmest of the bunch. He seems to be the most in touch with his humanity. And from what they had told him a bit ago, that might be because Bonnie was the first to go in the order of the murders. He hadn't had the 'privilege' of seeing people get slaughtered in front of him.
At least, that's what Sans thinks. Considering how much the animatronics avoid the subject, he doesn't bring it up.
Foxy seems very... antagonistic. If that was the right way to describe 'violent fuck'. Maybe because he was one of the last few killed. Maybe because his soul was vengeful. Or maybe he had always been a violent kid, and now he didn't have any adult to tamper down his temper and internal rage of being misunderstood.
There was something deeply wrong with Mangle. Now that Sans knew all of the main animatronics were people slaughtered, it made him wonder who exactly was shoved into an animatronic to act like a dog. If he had to guess, some of their intellect hadn't stuck around. Maybe some of their soul had decayed before they were relocated. Human souls didn't last forever without proper containment, after all. It would explain why Mangle seems not quite there at any given moment, and was easily distracted.
(An inner part of Sans' mind regurgitated some knowledge he had gained ages ago. Much like their bodies, human souls can rot.)
Friday night brings about a birthday party hosted at the establishment.
Not any birthday party. A hardcore, rich kid, bought out the whole building sort of birthday party. Sans is sent an email the moment it's scheduled, requesting for him to work overtime and be present many hours before his shift is supposed to begin. Sans accepts (as if he had a choice) because the animatronics are being set into roam mode for the party per the client's request and Sans doesn't trust those animatronics very much. He gives them all plenty of warning, but he still doesn't trust them.
Apparently, it's a rich rich client. Top 1% type of deal. Their kid was completely infatuated with robots and stuff, so they were flying out from a different country to host this party. Sans recognized the family name. Mettaton met the kid once if he could recall. A guest on his and Papyrus' cooking show.
Sans brings up a discord call for Mettaton and Papyrus while they're getting ready on set.
He'd like to know what he's getting into for this party. What to plan. He wants to keep this kid alive, and since the animatronics won't be bound to the stage anymore, he's deeply worried that he may not be up to the task.
Papyrus, not having to suffer the ordeals and horrors of sitting still for makeup, is the one who answers. Mettaton is sitting back in his chair next to the skeleton, sitting perfectly still as a hairdresser combed through his pink and black curls. Papyrus looks ecstatic to see Sans, as if his mere presence could lighten up the room and bring the second coming of whatever god those humans believe in.
(Sans would make fun of them - he would, he thinks religion is rather stupid for the most part, but he can't speak because most monsters believe in a floating dog that created them all.)
"Sans!" Papyrus squeals, moving forward with excitement. "How are you? You haven't facetimed me in months - is everything okay?"
"What? Yeah, bro, everything's fine," Sans chuckled, moving forward on his living room couch. He likes the way Papyrus gets so energetic and happy about the simplest of things. It helped keep Sans grounded in reality.
"But something is up, I presume," Mettaton chimes in. The hairdresser is fussing over his bangs, apparently not happy with the way they're curling. "No, darling, to the left - left - yes, there you go. Your left. Curl and tug hun, it's okay. Anyways, Sans, you never call when you feel like it. You need to have a purpose. Is there a concerning reason?"
"Always a pleasure to talk to you, Mettaton," Sans says.
Mettaton smiles. "Of course, darling." And he leans back, as if he isn't still in full view of the phone, and as if he won't be forced back into the conversation by Papyrus.
"I did have a question, though, for the both of you."
Mettaton frowns. Sans grins. He's forced to sit up.
Good. That's what he has to deal with if he wants to date Sans' brother. Sans likes him, he does, he just likes to be petty sometimes, and Mettaton never hesitates to return that in full.
"There's this kid that rented out my workplace for Friday - some rich kid, he's shown up on your show before. Rich kid, obsessed with robots... ring any bells?"
"Aw, him?" Papyrus hums, as if Sans pulled up a cute puppy picture and showed him. "He was so cute! I loved him! We should have him sometime on the show again, sweetie!"
Mettaton sighs. He looks like he wants to melt down into his seat and not return for a moment.
"I adore fans, but he was a bit much. Couldn't keep his hands off for the life of me. Not anything bad - he's a kid and I think he forgot I'm a robot with an actual personality and independent thought. Excited the boy to no end, but dear, he was too energetic, even for me! Couldn't keep up with his questions. I barely know how I'm built - Alphys would've been better suited for his questions. He's sweet and meant well, though, so I can't be mad. And he paid well. Very well."
"I think he single-handedly funded the next three episodes, didn't he?" Papyrus asks.
Mettaton shrugs. "I suppose. Though we did donate most of it to charities."
"As we should!" Papyrus says, puffing up his chest. Sans can't help but almost giggle at the movement. He could imagine Papyrus' scarf fluttering in a wind that couldn't have existed indoors. "We helped people who needed it. I think that's a good cause!"
"Yer doing great, bro," Sans said. He was. He really was. Papyrus was out there, changing lives. Thousands of people getting fed. Hundreds of people being entertained.
Sans was trying to save himself, and he was barely pulling it off.
Maybe that's why he hasn't turned tail and run for the hills from this goddamn Pizzeria. Papyrus' kindness was infectious, like a cough that couldn't quite let go no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of it. Papyrus was keeping Sans here, making him try his best to help others.
He fucking hates it. Papyrus should be the goody two shoes, not Sans.
"The boy," Mettaton draws out, drawing Sans' attention back to the robot who was done with his hair now, and was making expressions in the mirror to, and Sans could not quote this enough, 'stretch his metal'. "He's coming to the Pizzeria you work at, correct?"
"Yeah. Rented out the whole place for a day. I have to work overtime because the animatronics are coming down from the stage. Just wanted to check in on you guys about the kid and wanted to make sure I didn't have to worry about anything like, I dunno, even more overtime fixing the fuckers. Did he mess with your wiring or anything?"
Did the kid climb into his mouth at all and risk his frontal lobe getting chomped? Sans wants to ask that instead of the basic question he directed, but he's not exactly looking forward to dodging questions from Mettaton or his brother.
So he keeps with the simpler question. Easier to answer and excuse.
God, Sans fucking hates his job. It's his entire life now. Isn't that so ironic to think about? Comic Sans, of all people, makes a job his whole personality. He's going to throttle that fucking HR woman that threatened him when he gets the opportunity. Mark his words.
"No," Mettaton sighs out. "He's a sweet kid, just excitable. May poke and prod a bit or ask a lot of questions, but that'll be all..."
His expression pauses, and then his eyes narrow.
"Sans, didn't you... didn't your hand get broken because of a malfunction? Is the child even allowed near them?" Mettaton realizes with a quiet breath.
Papyrus turns so fast towards the camera that it startles Sans.
"Oh, no no, that was just Foxy specifically! He doesn't have the waterproof covering like the others!" Sans defends quickly, waving his hand. "And I'm gonna be on sight to shut them down or take them away if anything like that happens. It's why I was asking about the kid, wanted to see if my work was cut out for me or not."
Papyrus stares at Sans. "And they won't hurt you again?"
"Nah," Sans says, like a liar.
___
Much to Sans' annoyance, the party comes quicker than he'd like. Sans shows up hours before his shift, tired and hungry and plain pissed over this horrible schedule clash. And, since he has to come in while the restaurant is actually busy, he can't just walk up to the animatronics and make them promise not to do anything. Because management loves to inform their workers last minute of events.
Foxy's pirate cove is still out of order, thank fuck, and Mangle isn't open to the public just yet, neither is the Puppet. It's just the main three he has to worry about that day, to try and make sure nothing but a pleasant birthday party happens.
The pizzeria is... different during the day. Sans regrets all of his life choices instantly.
Ripe with screaming children, brimming with sweat and peed pants, and positively overcrowded with parents who didn't want to be there. The few good one's trying to control their children were overshadowed by the vast sum of those who plainly refused. One of the parents stunk of alcohol and were half collapsed against the table beside them, not even watching their kid.
And considering what led to the animatronics killing people, Sans keeps a very close eye on all of the unattended kids. He's not a big fan of kids, but he'll keep an eye on them to make sure one doesn't end up shoved into an animatronic suit later. Then he remembers, for fucks sake, he's the security guard. He has the authority to kick these shitty parents out. So he does. Sans is not going to risk drunk people and unattended kids near the animatronics when they come down from the stage.
Liz is there. Sans is a bit relieved to see her there. They don't interact much, not when Sans knows there's a good chance the manager or some higher authority in the company may be lingering about in the crowd. There isn't much she can do other than keep a reasonable distance from the animatronics and keep an eye out for Sans when he can't watch his own back.
Sans spends the time waiting for the animatronics to come down watching over the guests and their enthusiasm for the animatronics. Sans doesn't get it. Why are kids so obsessed with these things?
They're popular. They're so popular. Sans doesn't understand. This isn't even the most popular one in the franchise and yet this one is booked to hell and back. The kids are screaming at Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie as if they worship the damn things.
Maybe it's just the corporate domination over the market. They've been around for ages. They've gotten their hands down deep, establishing themselves as the pizzeria brand for children's entertainment. Cheap food. Cheap entertainment. Lazy standards. Really, it made sense. People flocked towards the familiar option. Change was scary.
The animatronics don't seem as alive as they often are while they're on stage. Either an act, Sans notices, or the code functioning. The souls may be letting the code take a front seat while they rest.
God, Sans would kill for a nap. He's fucking exhausted. He's envious of fucking haunted animatronics.
What has his life become?
Sans quietly continues to observe as guests start to filter out since the birthday party is a reserved event. It feels weird, to watch the dining room be so... lively. And in the daytime. It's considerably less scary this way, but off-putting all at once. He's in unfamiliar territory. This is all so new to him, and it's weird to watch. Especially since he knows this sort of environment brought about several kids' deaths.
He considered recording this whole event, but he's seen the manager making rounds about three times now, so Sans doesn't. Especially since Sans is trying to keep everyone alive and rather uninjured.
And he still has no idea about his future plans regarding the evidence. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Reveal everything and maybe get a few restaurants shut down, and have the robots torn to shreds? Be laughed out of court for insisting they're alive?
Sans sighs. He still has no fucking idea anymore. He has a decent amount of evidence now, but not enough to shoot down the entire franchise, and for what he does have it'll get the animatronics shut down. Which he kinda doesn't want now. Maybe. He's still debating.
It's a circle he's running himself in. Always to the same conclusion. But the good thing is, so far, Sans has time. He's bought himself time to mull it over with the mutual agreements both sides made. So Sans can wait before he reveals what's going on until he's certain of what to do. Because no one is dying right now under his watch.
So he'll take his time. He can keep gathering the evidence, and keep a watch on the animatronics until he figures out to save or scrap them. While he has this fragile balance of peace, he'll damn well use it.
Unless...
The kid shows up right on time, a short boy with blonde hair and eager, frantic eyes as he squeals at the animatronics before him. He's jumping up and down and his parents are barely holding him back from running to the stage altogether.
Unless a rich kid was murdered by the animatronics. Unless a third bite happened, and that bite happened in front of a certain pair of parents with enough money to send Freddy Fazbear entertainment to hell in legal fees and dues. And, when Freddy Fazbear Entertainment went to throw Sans under the bus, he revealed all of the evidence he's collected. A double whammy.
Sans stares at the eager boy, screaming with joy at the main entrance room, all set up for his birthday party by the private party planners. Sans himself only had so much evidence, there's no guarantee he'll get everything shut down and ended by himself. But with two multi-billionaires who cared about their child suing the hell out of this place? They'd drive them out of business from legal fees alone, most likely. Sans could approach them afterward, present his evidence, and show how much of a sad, tragic victim he was as well, saying he could help exact revenge against their son's death. Having some rich ass humans backing him up would be Sans' savior. With Asgore, with these two people, and with the kid being mauled in front of a crowd?
It'd be perfect.
It'd... it'd be... awful.
Isn't that the whole fucking point of his endless tirade of work? To make sure no one else dies? If he wanted that kind of evidence, he may as well throw himself at the animatronics and let himself get mauled in front of the parents and the poor kid. It'd have about the same effect. The parents would sue the hell out of Fazbear Entertainment for letting their kid anywhere near such a risk. Asgore and Toriel would go to town over the loss of their friend, Mettaton And Papyrus would do some shows to bring awareness, Undyne could use her status to ensure the investigation wasn't corrupt and Alphys could prove the animatronics were haunted... maybe. That last part was a stretch, admittedly.
And Sans kind of wanted to live. And he still had no idea how he felt about getting the animatronics destroyed or not.
So Sans bites his tongue and lets the party continue.
It goes off without much of a problem. Sans keeps the kid at a respectable distance, watching over the other kids and the parents to make sure no one strays too close. He entertains a few questions the kid sends his way, but keeps his mouth locked about being the engineer and computer scientist behind the animatronics. The kid doesn't need to know Sans knows how they function. He'd never hear the end of it.
And, thankfully, the party goes faster than he thought it would. It's easy. It's quick. The animatronics aren't hassled with and so, don't react at all to the party below them.
It's the final ten minutes of the party when Sans starts wrapping it up. He's exhausted, frankly. So, so tired. He'd been keeping an eye on kids for a few hours by that point, was running off of a sleep schedule not meant for him to be awake at this time, and hated his job. He's not doing well.
As a natural consequence, that's when it goes wrong.
Maybe it's the karma for even considering sacrificing the kid to get this place shut down. Maybe it's because he's tired, he's not paying attention. Maybe it was just about time things went horribly wrong again.
But the kid, the poor, innocent-eyed kid, had decided he wanted to peek at the Puppet. Because someone decided to leave the poster up right beside his box, announcing that a puppet animatronic was tucked away into the bright purple and blue box that was about a foot taller than Sans.
Because someone hated him apparently.
He's busy talking to the parents about the animatronics when he finally notices the kid snooping where he shouldn't be. And hey, who can blame Sans? He wants to connect to the rich billionaires who may be able to help him in the future. So he talks about animatronics their kid may like, and shows his connections to Mettaton ("Wow, that's awesome your kid actually met him. Mettaton is my brother in law... oh, you've met Papyrus too? Yeah, that's my little brother. I used to work with the woman who designed his body, I even helped program it. If you guys want, I can help get some more meetings set up") that had the parents eagerly shaking his hand and writing down a phone number. Which is good. Sans likes getting connections.
But, a victory comes with a loss, because Sans finds that the kid had fucking unplugged the music box he set to auto-loop. The music falls flat, and that's what gathers his attention. He turns, practically delirious at that point from a lack of sleep and sudden rushing adrenaline, at the newfound silence from that corner of the room.
The box stirs. Sans blinks, much too slow to realize what had happened until the top of the box slowly slides off in a moment of silence.
He moves. And so does an animatronic.
Teleportation comes handy in a lot of times. He may have the physical abilities of a carrot and may have bones more fragile than a twig, but he can hit strong and move fast. So, at the very least, he can handle himself.
So when he teleports over there, he puts himself between himself and the kid and quickly twists his body as a shield as he grabs the kid.
There's a jerk of metal and scraping behind him. He can see that flash of a black limb that had originally been flying out of the box suddenly hesitate, withdrawing for a moment.
And, as the silence settles like dust in the room, a hand awkwardly reaches forward and grasps the back of his hoodie.
No one moves for a moment.
"Oh my god!" The mother says, rushing up. "Honey, you can't just do that - are you okay? Are you both okay?"
The husband soon follows. The kid is staring up at Sans with big, bowl-like eyes and a 'I don't understand what's going on but I'm having fun' smile.
"Look, look, there's another one! It moved!" The kid practically sings out, looking like he wants to rush around Sans and touch the arm holding him.
"It... you can't do that," Sans chokes out through the tightness in his throat.
"Why?" The kid asks as his mother quickly tugs him away.
"It's..." Sans strains for a moment. He's still running off of the adrenaline of the new, unchecked animatronic having gotten released. He has no idea what the fuck is even holding him right now. "Not bug checked yet. Not safe for customers yet. Might be a mechanical failure that could hurt ya."
The hand on his hoodie tightens, and Sans wants to wither and die on the floor. His hands are lightly trembling, because this thing has him in a hold and he is fucking in survival mode now.
He can remember how strong Foxy's hands were, and that was on his arm bones... his neck bones were a mere inch away from this thing, not even.
Liz is staring at him. She's on her feet now, and she's looking at him with a white pillowed face and an expression of dread. Sans doesn't look in her direction. Especially since he knows the manager is also staring at him, their arms crossed and a look of annoyance and worry on their face.
He has the particular feeling they're more worried about the killing machine behind him over his neck.
"Like I said, it's not bug tested, it tends to grab things and sometimes it's hard to get those things back," Sans says, forcing out a hollow chuckle as he shakes off his hoodie to leave in the animatronic grasp and quickly side steps a few feet away from the box. His hands are still jittery from the flashbacks of Foxy and Freddy and what their hands were capable of, so he shoves them into his pocket to try and keep himself steady. "Come on, let's go back to yer table kid. We can talk about a possible squirrel animatronic. Wouldn't that be nuts, huh?"
He quickly plugs back in the music box when he has the chance to. The long, slender black hand (and his hoodie still gripped inside of it), slowly retreats into the box. The blue fabric shuffles, and soon enough, the box closes, leaving the animatronic and his hoodie trapped inside the box once more.
He eyes the box warily as he returns to help end the party. It never moved again for the rest of that day.
So I'm delaying the next chapter for a month so I can catch up. Yes, it is December 25th at 1 AM for me, and yes, my sister ended up in the hospital 3 hours ago. Things are fucked irl, but it's fine we ball.
Next upload: January 25th, 2024
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