Down on his luck and with nothing but a handful of lint to his name, Stan accepts an offer to work as a nightguard at an old pizza arcade in Hurricane, Utah- a place that Rico would never think to look for him. It was perfect; free pizza, quiet nigh...
Family Pizzeria looking for a security guard to work the night shift. 12 am to 6 am.
Monitor cameras, and ensure the safety of equipment and animatronic characters.
Not responsible for injury/dismemberment.
$120 a week.
To apply, call:
1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR
or inquire within.
765 W State St, Hurricane, UT 84737
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Stan read over the newspaper clipping again and again, chewing the inside of his cheek in thought. Night guard, huh? Didn't sound too bad. Sitting around watching cameras, drinking soda, and eating snacks, with no one around to bother you– sounded kinda perfect, actually. Hell of a lot nicer than what he'd been doing, which involved drugs and guns and the like. The whole injury and dismemberment thing was weird, but hey, things can happen when you work with machines, right? So long as he didn't go sticking his hands in any gears, he'd probably be fine. He glanced at the phone number, and then at the phone sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. Should he call? He didn't have many other options for work. He wanted to try and make an honest living for himself, which meant he couldn't mess this up. Despite himself, a memory from years ago resurfaced of Ford, standing in front of the mirror as he tied his tie, shuffling nervously.
"Relax, Sixer! You're applyin' for a job, not goin' to your own funeral." Stan said, popping a toffee peanut into his mouth.
"I need to look professional, Stanley. I really want this job, and I want them to see that! It'll look good for me to inquire about the job in person." Ford explained. Stan shrugged.
"You say so, Sixer. Can't imagine why you want a part-time at a bookstore so badly. Actually, it's you, so I can imagine." He chuckled.
Ford smiled, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, blockhead."
Right. Stan (needed) wanted this job, and he had to show them he wanted this job. So, best to go in person. He'd need to steal some nicer clothes though, and maybe a toothbrush and some shampoo, too. He'd start the whole honest living thing after he started making some money.
Putting the Stanmobile into park, Stan glanced out of the window at the run-down restaurant, eyeing the weed-filled parking lot, dirty windows and brick walls, and the broken Freddy Fazbear neon sign that was hung above the front entrance. Nice place, he thought dully. Who'd even want to break into a place like this? Leaning back in his seat, he adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see his reflection, running his hand through his freshly washed hair. It was still a mullet, but it was clean, and that would have to be enough. He stepped out of the car and smoothed the wrinkles of his new t-shirt and jeans, taking a deep breath. He could do this, he was a grown man. He'd fought off crackheads and gang members, dealt with people like Rico– he could handle this.
Stepping inside he was greeted by the sight of way too many flashing lights, the sounds of music, and various arcade games making his ears ring. It was overload city, though he'd expected as much. Arcades didn't tend to be quiet. The carpet was black with rainbow squiggles all over, and his boots stuck to it slightly with every step. He didn't even wanna know how many soda pops had been spilled on it over the years. Despite the lively interior, it was devoid of any people, all of the tables barren, the play-place empty, and the games sat waiting for someone to insert a token. The sign on the door said open, so why was no one here? It was winter break, wasn't it? Business should be booming.
"Hey, you need something?" Stan turned to see a man approaching, tall and broad-shouldered with blond hair and a bored look on his face. He was wearing a blue uniform with a badge on his chest that said 'Security.' Fuck, had someone already got the job?
"Uh, yeah, I'm here to ask about the night guard gig?"
The man perked up, intrigued. "Really? Damn– Well, the owner isn't here right now, but I can get you taken care of. Follow me."
They exited the main room and went down a hall, entering an office. The office, Stan noted, had two doors on either side of the room– the one he just entered, and another across from it that led to a different hallway. Weird.
"Well, this here will be your castle, and this," The man patted the swivel chair. "will be your throne. Nothing fancy, but it's pretty comfortable. This monitor here is where you access the cameras." He gestured to the behemoth of a computer sitting on the desk.
"The cameras aren't hard to figure out, just press this button to switch from one camera to another, push this button to exit the cameras, and push this to bring the cameras back up. Three buttons. Simple." Stan nodded, wishing he could write this all down. As simple as it was, he had a feeling he'd forget. Wait, what was he even talking about? He didn't even know if he'd get the job– What was this guy yammering about?
"Wait, why are you showing me this?"
The man blinked. "You wanted the job, right?"
"Yeah? But– You said the owner isn't even here. Don't I need to talk with them? Get an interview or something?" Stan asked.
The man laughed dryly. "We don't really do that here. The owner is desperate to find a night guard because no one wants to do the work, including me. I put in my two-week notice two weeks ago. He isn't picky, and the job isn't hard, you don't even need prior experience."
Stan frowned. "I feel like I'm still confused."
"Ok, how about this, then; You're hired. Here," The man unclipped his badge and handed it to Stan. "Welcome aboard. Can you start tonight?"
Stan nodded dumbly. The man smiled. "Great. See you at 12."
Holy shit, holy shit, he got the job! Lying on his motel mattress, springs digging into his back, he thought about how this might just be the start of something good. He'd work for a while, build up a bit of savings, find an actual apartment, and eventually, he could get a better job. He'd be able to get food and clothes without having to shoplift, he'd be able to make an actual life for himself. And maybe, once he was settled down more, he'd be able to muster up the courage to talk to Ford. He sighed, closing his eyes. Yeah, things were gonna be good. He was sure of it this time.
