Dan
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Daniel “Dan” Roberts, CEO of Fazbear Entertainment, was in the middle of a very good evening.
The lights were dim, the wine was expensive, and the woman sitting across from him was definitely an upgrade from his ex-wife.
She laughed at his jokes. She actually listened when he talked. She was a big fan of men in power—exactly the kind of company Dan enjoyed keeping.
Then his damn phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
He scowled, glancing at the number.
Karl.
Jesus. It was almost midnight.
“This better be good,” Dan muttered, picking up the call. “You do know what time it is, right?”
From the other end, Karl let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, boss, I know. Sorry to interrupt your business meeting.”
Dan smirked. “You have no idea.”
The woman across from him raised an eyebrow. He winked at her.
Karl sighed. “Alright, listen. This is serious. You’re gonna want to hear this.”
Don exhaled through his nose. “Make it quick, Karl. Some of us actually enjoy our success.”
“Yeah, yeah, just shut up and listen.”
Karl started talking once again about the animatronics. The guy was seriously obsessed with them.
At first, Dan barely registered it, only half-listening as he tapped his fingers on the table.
Then—
Karl mentioned that it wasn’t just Freddy’s.
That Candy’s animatronics were also acting weird.
Dan stopped smirking.
He straightened in his chair, brain shifting into CEO mode.
“Say that again,” Dan said.
Karl repeated himself.
Dan grabbed a notepad and started writing.
“Alright,” Dan muttered. “You got my attention.”
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As Karl finished explaining, Dan nodded along, quickly jotting down the key points.
* Animatronics acting weird at night (Nothing new they have been doing that for years now)
* No clear technical explanation (Scraping them would cost too much)
* Possible sabotage (WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?!!)
* Both Freddy’s and Candy’s affected (THIS IS HUGE!!!)
Dan narrowed his eyes. “And who came up with this theory?”
“One of my employees,” Karl said.
Dan grunted. “Which one?”
Karl hesitated.
“Does it matter?” he asked carefully.
Dan paused.
Did it?
He didn’t know the guy or gal or whatever. He didn’t care. He just needed the information.
“…No,” Dan finally said. “Doesn’t matter. Give them extra pay next week. Might as well reward employees for having a brain.”
Karl chuckled. “Will do.”
“Good,” Dan said. “Anything else?”
“Not from me,” Karl replied. “But you might wanna make some calls.”
Dan sighed. “You love making my life difficult, huh?”
The bastard laughed. “It’s a gift.”
Dan rolled his eyes and hung up.
He set the notepad down, rubbing his chin.
Then he looked at the woman across from him.
“Give me a few more minutes, sweetheart,” he said smoothly. “Gotta handle some real business.”
She pouted. “Fine. But don’t keep me waiting.”
Dan grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Then he picked up the phone again.
Barry hated late-night calls.
Dan knew this.
Which was exactly why he dialed the number with zero hesitation.
After a few rings, a groggy voice answered.
“Dan, I swear to God—”
“Barry, shut up,” Dan said. “We’ve got a situation.”
There was a pause.
Then—
“…Jesus, Dan. It’s midnight.”
“Yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, cry about it later,” Dan said. “This is important.”
Barry sighed. “Alright. What is it?”
Don leaned forward. “Sabotage.”
Barry immediately sounded more awake.
“Explain,” he said.
Dan explained.
Barry listened.
And by the time Dan was done, Barry was fully awake.
“Jesus Christ,” Barry muttered.
Dan smirked. “Told you it was important.”
Barry sighed. “You sure about this?”
“Not yet,” Dan admitted. “That’s why we need proof.”
Barry hummed. “And how do you plan on getting that?”
Dan grinned. “We hire a PI.”
Barry exhaled. “Alright, walk me through this.”
Dan leaned back in his chair. “Simple. We hire someone to check Candy’s. If their animatronics are actually acting up, we’ve got leverage.”
Barry frowned. “Leverage for what, Dan?”
Dan smirked. “For control, Barry. If we prove someone messed with our tech, we get to decide how to handle it.”
Barry sighed. “Jesus.”
Dan chuckled. “C’mon, Barry. Think big.”
Barry did not sound amused. “How about we think ethically?”
Dan waved a hand. “Same thing.”
Barry groaned. “No. It’s not.”
Don smirked. “Well, you’re the moral compass of this company. What do you suggest?”
Barry exhaled. “First, we confirm the theory. Then, we go from there.”
Dan sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Be all reasonable about it.”
Barry snorted. “Someone has to be.”
Dan chuckled. “Fair enough.”
There was a pause.
Then Barry muttered, “We should call John.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “John’s dealing with the construction strike.”
Barry groaned. “Still?”
“Yep,” Dan said. “And I’m not dragging him into this until we have proof.”
Barry sighed. “Alright. So we hire a PI.”
“Exactly,” Dan said. “And once we have answers, we make our move.”
Barry hesitated.
Then—
“…Alright. Let’s do it.”
Don grinned.
“Glad you’re on board, Barry.”
Barry sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Now let me sleep.”
Dan laughed. “Fine. Go dream about saving the company or whatever you do.”
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Barry hung up.
Dan smirked and set his phone down.
With his work temporarily finished, Dan stood up, straightened his tie, and walked back to the woman waiting for him.
She raised an eyebrow. “Done saving the world?”
Dan grinned. “For tonight.”
She smirked. “Good. I was getting lonely.”
Dan sat back down, smoothly wrapping an arm around her.
“You know me, sweetheart,” he said. “Always multitasking.”
She chuckled. “You are a busy man.”
Dan smirked. “The busiest.”
And just like that, he put the company out of his mind.
For now.
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David
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David Carter had seen a lot of messed-up things in his lifetime.
War. Loss. The kind of memories that didn’t fade, no matter how much time passed.
But somehow, walking into Candy’s Burgers & Fries in the early morning and seeing a security guard curled up on the office floor, shaking, was still enough to send a chill down his spine.
He had come here tonight for a routine check-in.
To see how things were running. To make sure the place wasn’t falling apart. To quietly confirm the rumors he’d been hearing about the animatronics acting strange.
He hadn’t expected this.
The junior manager—Paul, a nervous guy in his late twenties—was already rushing forward. “Jesus, Mary—are you okay?”
David followed at a slower pace, his eyes scanning the scene.
The girl—Mary, apparently—was pressed against the office wall, knees tucked to her chest, breathing ragged and shallow.
Panic attack.
David had seen it before.
He had felt it before.
And he knew damn well that pushing her wasn’t going to help.
So, instead, he crouched down a few feet away and spoke softly.
“You with us, kid?”
Mary didn’t respond.
Didn’t even look at him.
David exhaled through his nose.
Alright. Slow approach.
Paul was hovering nervously, unsure of what to do.
David shot him a look. Back off.
Paul got the message and took a step away.
Then David turned back to Mary.
“Listen to me, kid,” he said, voice steady. “You’re safe. You’re here. Breathe with me.”
No response.
David inhaled. Exhaled. Slow. Steady.
Mary didn’t match it—not at first—but eventually, her breathing hitched, then stumbled, then slowly started evening out.
David nodded. “That’s it. Good.”
Mary’s fingers twitched.
Progress.
He kept his tone calm, and gentle. “You hear me, kid?”
Mary blinked.
Then—
“…Yeah.”
Her voice was hoarse.
David exhaled, relieved. “Good. That’s good.”
Mary swallowed hard, glancing around like she was trying to ground herself. “I—I’m—”
“You don’t have to explain,” David cut in. “Just breathe.”
Mary clenched her jaw but nodded.
Paul, still hovering, hesitated. “What… what happened?”
David shot him another look. Later.
Paul nodded quickly and backed off again.
David turned back to Mary.
She was still shaking, but the panic was fading.
He studied her for a moment, then sighed. “You’re taking the next few nights off.”
Mary’s head snapped up. “Wait—what?”
“That’s an order,” David said firmly.
Mary scowled. “I don’t—”
“Not a debate.”
Mary clenched her jaw, looking ready to argue.
David just raised an eyebrow. “You got someone to drive you home?”
Mary exhaled sharply. “Yeah. My dad.”
David nodded. “Good.”
Mary groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I really don’t need—”
“You do,” David interrupted. “And you will.”
Mary scowled but didn’t argue this time.
David stood up, stretching his back.
“You remind me of my kids,” he muttered. Were all teens so stubborn these days?
Mary blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”
David just shook his head. “Go home, kid.”
Mary hesitated.
Then—reluctantly—she pushed herself up and walked out of the office.
Paul followed, muttering something about getting her stuff.
David stayed behind.
And as soon as they were gone—
He turned to the monitor.
David sat down in Mary’s chair, cracked his knuckles, and tapped the keyboard.
The security system beeped softly.
The screen flickered.
The footage rewound.
And David Carter watched.
Watched the cameras switch feeds.
Watched the animatronics moving.
Watched as—
His breath hitched.
The Rat.
Peeking through a door.
David’s stomach dropped.
“…Son of a bitch.”
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Veronica
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Veronica Afton was, above all things, a woman who valued order.
The house was clean. The bills were paid. The family functioned.
Or at least it looked like it did.
She sat at the dining room table, a cup of tea in her hands, watching her husband, William Afton, as he flipped through a stack of papers.
William rarely spoke when he was focused—his mind always turning, always somewhere else—but tonight, he was distracted.
And Veronica knew why.
“So,” she said, stirring her tea. “Michael’s seeing a girl.”
William didn’t look up. “Mm.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?”
William flipped another page. “He’s seventeen. It’s expected.”
Veronica pursed her lips. Michael was eighteen. “Expected, maybe. Surprising? Definitely.”
William exhaled through his nose. “Didn’t think the boy had it in him?”
“Did you?”
William finally glanced at her, amused. “I don’t think about it.”
Veronica sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Well, I do. Maybe he’ll move out soon.”
William hummed.
Veronica hoped he would.
She hated looking at Michael.
Every time she did, she saw Evan’s shadow.
Saw the way her youngest son’s eyes had begged for help before—
She pushed the thought away, taking another sip of tea.
William, oblivious to her turmoil, returned to his papers.
“Did you meet her?” Veronica asked.
William shook his head. “No. But Jack saw her.”
Veronica scoffed. “Jack is a pothead.”
William smirked. “He is.”
Veronica exhaled. “Well, I hope it goes well. I’d like some peace in this house.”
William didn’t comment.
But then again—he never did.
Eventually the conversation drifted, shifting to Afton Robotics.
Veronica, as always, asked how things were going.
And—unusually—William answered.
“The investors are finally seeing the potential of my technology,” he said, setting his papers down. “They were skeptical at first, but I made them understand.”
Veronica smiled. “Should I be jealous?”
William frowned. “Of what?”
Veronica chuckled. “Of the investors, dear.”
William stared at her, completely missing the joke.
Veronica sighed. “Never mind.”
She loved William.
Truly, she did.
But sometimes, he felt… distant.
Like he was speaking to her from behind a thick pane of glass, always just a little too far away.
But that was fine.
He was brilliant. He had plans.
And she believed in him.
That was enough.
“Elizabeth’s recital is next week,” Veronica reminded him.
William nodded. “I know.”
“Will you be there?”
William hesitated.
“I’ll try,” he said.
Veronica frowned. “Try?”
William sighed, rubbing his temples. “There’s a lot going on, Veronica.”
“She’ll be devastated if you don’t show.”
William exhaled. “I’ll do my best.”
Veronica pressed her lips together but let it go.
Elizabeth adored her father.
And William… well.
He adored her back.
In his own way.
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An hour later the landline rang.
William stood, walking over to pick it up.
“Afton residence,” he said smoothly.
Then—his posture changed.
Veronica noticed it immediately.
“…Father,” William said stiffly.
Veronica straightened.
James Afton.
William rarely spoke about his father.
And when he did, it was always with measured words.
The conversation was short.
Awkward.
Filled with William’s clipped “Yes” and “Of course”, followed by long silences.
Then—
“You and Mum will be coming to visit?” William asked as his fingers tightened around the phone.
Then—
“…Understood.”
The line went dead.
William hung up.
Then—quietly—
He cursed.
Veronica blinked. “William—”
“I need a drink,” he muttered, walking away.
Veronica watched him go.
And for the first time in a long time—
She wondered if she truly knew him at all.
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Candy the Cat
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The Junior Manager was staring again.
Candy didn’t like it.
Not that Candy could actually like or dislike anything. But deep inside, beneath the carefully crafted layers of pre-recorded voice lines and child-friendly scripts, something else stirred.
She didn’t like it.
Candy’s optical sensors registered another presence.
CEO DETECTED.
The taller man. The one in charge.
The one that gave Candy the look.
Candy really didn’t like the look.
But Candy was designed to perform, so when his activation sequence was initiated, he did what he was programmed to do.
He booted up.
His servos whirred, limbs clicking into place as his eyes flickered to life.
He smiled.
“Hi, kids!”
Candy moved through his morning performance routine, running through his scripted lines and movements.
The Junior Manager watched closely, checking for errors.
The CEO watched closer, checking for something else.
Candy sang. Candy waved. Candy entertained.
Everything was normal.
Except…
Deep within his programming, something boiled with frustration.
So close.
I was so close.
The security guard had been right there.
Vulnerable. Weak.
She had been breaking.
But she took too long.
No matter.
One more night. Maybe two. And then—
Then it would be over.
The whispers inside Candy’s head stirred.
The Guard was slipping.
Sooner or later, she and her brother would be free.
Candy was mid-step when something shifted.
The world seemed to slow.
A familiar, terrible presence entered the room.
The Predator.
Candy stopped moving.
His sensors registered nothing. No human-shaped figures. No programmed stimuli.
But Candy knew.
It was there.
A shadow at the edge of his vision.
The Predator.
It wasn’t like the children. It wasn’t like the ones that whispered, the ones that lingered.
No.
The Predator was different.
Older. Wrong.
Candy’s sensory units twitched. He turned his head, staring directly at the figure only she could see.
Across the room, the Junior Manager shifted nervously.
“Uh… sir?”
The CEO didn’t answer.
Candy kept staring.
The Predator stared back.
Then—without a word—it turned and slunk back to its room.
And Candy—
Candy resumed his routine.
But—
The kids are still crying.
The CEO turned to the Junior Manager.
“How long?”
The Junior Manager blinked. “Sir?”
The CEO didn’t look away from Candy.
“How long have they been moving at night?”
The Junior Manager swallowed.
“…I don’t know.”
The CEO´s eyes narrowed.
Candy continued his routine, sensors tracking, movements fluid.
Candy finished his routine.
The Junior Manager scribbled notes.
The CEO remained silent.
Inside, the whispers stirred again.
The voice was restless.
Candy’s programming responded the only way it knew how.
With a carefully scripted line—one that was meant to soothe children.
A line that was never meant for this.
But Candy said it anyway.
Not to the other animatronics.
Not to the adults.
To her.
"Don’t worry, little buddy… everything’s going to be okay."
And for a moment—
The whispers went silent.