another night at freddy's: night 1

chapter 3

Mike was upset, and understandably so, Freddy sympathized. Who knew what Foxy could get up to by himself. He had never been outside, and if they were going to find him, they needed to act, and fast. Mike was pacing inside his office, muttering to himself.

"He's not going to hurt anyone, is he?" Mike suddenly asked, turning to the three animatronics, who looked at him in surprise. Freddy spoke up first.

"Of course not. At least, not intentionally. He isn't used to interacting with people, Michael, it's been decades since he could, since any of us could," he explained.

"He's not going to bite a kid, right?" Mike questioned, not listening.

"Absolutely not!" Bonnie cried, horrified at the thought, "We love kids!"

"But the Bite of '87..." Mike began.

"Oh yes, that little fiasco," Freddy said, eyes drooping in memory, "We're never going to live that down, are we?"

"A kid lost his frontal lobe, Freddy!" Mike said indigently, "Of course not!"

"It wasn't a kid that got bit," Freddy explained calmly, "It was a parent, and... was unpreventable."

"So it was an accident?" questioned Mike.

"Not... exactly," Freddy began, "But first you need to understand a little bit about Foxy's programming. He's programmed to be 'captain' of his 'crew,' effectively making him feel responsible for the kids he entertained. This was done to have another responsible figure keeping the kids safe while they played."

"So? That doesn't seem so bad," Mike commented.

"And for the longest time, it wasn't," Freddy continued, "It never amounted to more than breaking up squabbles, reporting injuries, that sort of thing. But before we continue on with that, it is also important to know another... quirk. Foxy... doesn't like to be touched. Never has. If it weren't for the love of kids we all had instilled on us, he probably would never have stepped off stage and roamed around the restaurant. But back to the point.

"It was August 12, 1987, right at the end of our summertime rush, the busiest time of the year. Foxy had had a very pressing day, you have to understand, and was dealing with stress, an emotion he had never felt before. There had been a large party, much like the one you had to deal with, and, similar to you, they needed another person to help out," Freddy told.

"Let me guess: Foxy?" assumed Mike.

"Sharp as a tack, Michael," Freddy confirmed with a small smile, "Foxy was the only one of us that had a sense of protection built-in, since he operated independently of the main show floor, and at the time Management didn't question a robot acting in charge. It was clearly a little a bit too much for him to handle, and as the day wore on, he wore down. I noticed the change first. His responses were slower, required more time to act, sometimes he would stand in place for nearly a minute before figuring out where he needed to go. Once the party ended, Foxy made his way to the manager, complaining of slowing down.

"Our day manager was nice enough, and agreed to get Foxy some downtime Backstage with our mechanic, Nathan. But on the way..." Freddy's eyes seem to become unfocused, distant, as did Chica and Bonnie's.

They could see Foxy walking back slowly, his pathfinding struggling to keep up with his travel. He would stop and start, sometimes for minutes, before resuming his journey. Being surrounded by kids only seemed to make it worse, and he was forced to ignore them. Right as he reached the stage, a man yelled his name,

"Foxy!" he called, "Can I take a picture with you and my kids?"

Foxy turned and stalled, thinking up a response. But the turn and pause seemed to be a silent affirmative to the proud parent, who stepped over next to him. And reached his arm up and fumbled trying to place it across Foxy's shoulders. Suddenly Foxy's head turned to face him, and Freddy could hear him mutter something about not being touched.