Freedom Lost [FNAF/UT] (Freedom AU Book 11)

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟

  The employee gave the man a smile and a nod, writing down the last of what he'd told her. "I will be sure to notify a manager of this." She said, clicking the pen's lid back on. "Thank you for reporting this." The man half-smiled, stifled a yawn, before turning to leave the building of rowdy kids. With the man's concern written down, Elicia tucked the pen in her shirt's pocket, and went to find her boss in his office.

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Lolbit had just watched the last employee drive away from the building for the night. The coast was clear for her to head over and slip inside. She grabbed onto the walkie-talkie, holding her thumb down on the button atop it. "I'm returning now. Repeat, I am returning to the Emporium. Over." She then let it dangle around her neck again, and hurried off up the side walk to get to the restaurant.

Skipping the parking lot altogether, Lolbit appeared along the tree line beside the building, close to one of the many fire exits. Not breaking her even stride, she leaned her weight against the bar to open the door—only for her muzzle to collide with the metal door. "... Ow!" She brought her empty hand up to rub her nose. Looking at the door, she tried opening it a second time. Locked. "That's... odd." She hummed, before disappearing to go try the next fire door. It was also locked, along with the rest of the fire exit doors.

"This is weird... these doors aren't usually locked." Lolbit said to herself, brow furrowed in confusion. She then remembered the ground-level door to the basement. The one door she hadn't yet tried. She took off in a jog around the building to find the door, as it was a bit hidden, and she couldn't quite remember where it was located. But once she found it, she was yet again disappointed. Also locked. With a frustrated sigh, Lolbit grabbed her walkie-talkie again. "Herman, come in. Over." There was a beat of silence, before static sounded on the radio. "I hear you. Have you delivered the funds?"

"No, I can't get into the building." Another beat. "Repeat?" Lolbit huffed. "The building's locked tight. Doors are all locked." She told. "What about your usual entry points?" Herman asked. "Also locked off." Lolbit answered. "Then just teleport in, Lolbit." Lolbit blinked. How did I get in the position I'm in? She felt like smacking her head against the wall in embarrassment, but the muzzle to the door earlier covered it just fine. "Right, of course."

"Okay. Deliver the funds, and report back."

"Roger. Over and out." The walkie-talkie fell silent. Lolbit was about to teleport inside the restaurant, when a curious sound caught her ear. It came from the parking lot. Moving slyly, Lolbit came up to the front, left corner of the building—hiding in the shadows. A single, flashy looking car was parked in the lot, it's owner locking the doors with the fob. It was a man in uniform, but from what the fox could see, he wasn't an employee. He looked to be a manager. He also looked vaguely familiar. "... Jenson?" She muttered. But, why was he here? The man unlocked the front door, and entered the building—locking the door behind himself again.

Shaking her head, Lolbit put her hood up, and hurried inside with a blink.

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Bonbell was writing down passwords on a post-it note with a pen, while the Marionette frantically typed away on the computer. Both were working together, trying to get into the computer. They were trying to figure out what had happened to Gold and Springtrap as a result of the one, single complaint that had come in during business hours. "What about the year the company was founded?" Bon suggested. Puppet shook his head 'no'. "Already tried that."

"With an exclamation mark?"

"That, too." Bon mumbled a "drats" to himself, writing the date down along with all the other wrong combinations. He paused halfway through. "Um... what year was that, again?" The bunny asked. "I actually don't know, but the very first restaurant opened in the late eighties... or maybe...!" Puppet typed in a different the year, thinking he might've been initially mistaken. "No, that still isn't it..." He said, before going on to try every year following, up until the mid 90's. "You can scratch out anything in the 80's and 90's."