FNAF Sister Location

Chapter 2

Sabrina

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"The elevator panel is broken," I chocked out.

"There's always an emergency manual way up," Mike reassured me. "We'll just have to find it."

"Right," I managed, taking hold of my senses. I was Sabrina Carolina, brave reporter. This was probably just some poorly done renovation job. Animatronics didn't actually come to life and try to kill people. The just did what we told them to.

"What do you think did this?" Mike asked, bringing the camera closer to the elevator doors so that the viewers would be able to see the claw marks.

"Maybe some kind of wild animal," I said. As soon as I did, I winced. I was supposed to make this sound like the animatronics were really trying to kill people, not comfort the audience.

"Maybe they were trying to turn this into an extension of Fazbear's Fright," Mike suggested, probably saving my job. "Visitors would exit the elevator, see that there was no way back, get scared, and be on edge as the guide led them through the rest of the attraction. This could all be an elaborate stage meant to sell more animatronics."

"So the exit would be .  . ?" I asked.

"Deeper inside," he told me. "And since we came down the elevator, I'm betting that you turned the attraction on. That means we can expect a lot of jumpscares . . . and roaming animatronics."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I remembered the poster of the dancer. The thought of running into it deep underground was . . . terrifying. I had never had any fear of animatronics before now. Amazing how being trapped underground in a hall that had clearly been torn apart can change your perspective.

I glanced down the hall again and my eyes were drawn to a brown leather book on the ground. The cover and first dozen pages had been shredded, but by claws or fangs I couldn't tell. I picked up the book and flipped through the pages. A dozen or so of them had been shredded, and the other half had dark red splatters.

"What's that?" Mike asked.

"Some sort of journal," I replied, scanning one of the pages. On it was a list of names and tallies.

-Baby                       IIIIIII
-Funtime Foxy          IIIII
-Funtime Freddy       III
-Ballora                      IIII
-Ennard                      III
-Minireena                  I

"What does it say?" Mike asked, bringing the camera closer.

"It's a list of names," I told him. I heard him gasp as he read the list, but I couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement.

"That one says Foxy!" he said loudly. "And that one says Freddy!"

"Is this a list of the animatronics?" I asked.

"I think so," he replied. "I've never heard of any of the others. I suppose Ballora might be the dancer animatronic. Or maybe its name is Minireena."

"I wonder what the tally marks mean," I said thoughtfully.

"Maybe it's how many people they've killed, or their danger level," Mike suggested. I shuddered.

"Do you really have to say that?" I asked. He laughed and held his headset away from his head.

"Don't tell me you think this is serious?" he teased. "Animatronics don't actually try to kill people."

"Don't hold it against us," a whispery little girl's voice hissed. I jumped several inches into the air and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The hiss slowly faded into silence.

"What was that?" I asked quietly.

"Must be a preprogrammed attraction sound track," Mike said in equally soft tones.

"The dark smudges," I realized, "do you think they're blood?" He didn't answer. Instead he turned several pages in the journal. He stopped on one which had a passage, like a journal. I read it over his shoulder.

Today is my first day on the job as the new technician. Since I won't be at home much anymore, I've decided to just update my journal here at work.

Today they introduced me to the animatronics they keep here. Funtime Freddy, Funtime Foxy, Baby, Ennard, Minireena, and Ballora. Ballora has her own showcase room, and both of the Funtimes share one. There used to be another Funtime named Funtime Foxett, but it was sold to Fazbear Entertainment. I heard they call it the Mangle now. Ennard is permanently retired and is now just a pile of wires and cables. Baby runs the circus showroom, along with a bunch of baby doll clones. I wasn't told their names.

They told me that I'm to work after hours, monitoring the systems and fixing any power failures. The big show is coming this weekend, and they don't want anything going wrong.

"So Mangle's cousins are here," Mike said thoughtfully.

"I wonder what the big show they were talking about was," I added.

"Probably a scary attraction. Maybe their first ever show."

"You don't know what we've been through," the little girl's voice whispered, sending shivers up my spine. If it was a scary attraction, they were doing a good job.

"We should get moving," Mike told me. I was in wholehearted agreement.