Five Nights At Freddy's: Foxy's Voices

The Missing Fox

Funtime Foxy's life had taken a turn for the worse.

Before, Foxy only felt hate, sadness, annoyance and pleasure. Sometimes jealousy, and even rage. These emotions were omnipresent - Foxy knew what they were like. In fact, she even enjoyed them.

But never had Foxy felt lonely.

Loneliness wasn't something Foxy was used to. It bit and clawed at the very edges of Foxy's mind. It struck when Foxy least expected it. It gnawed at her concentration and was always eating away at her thoughts.

Foxy didn't like that emotion.

Two nights ago, as the sun had risen, Other-Foxy and the Others had spoken about trouble. Something about a vent. Other-Foxy had heard voices and had panicked, right before his thoughts had blinked out as the Daylight Fog overtook him. Seconds later, so had Funtime Foxy.

Other-Foxy hadn't come back.

Foxy missed him. She missed his thoughts. She missed his snappy, growly tenancies and the way his friends liked him even though he was rude. Foxy missed having a friend who understood her so fully and completely - even Baby couldn't comprehend her as fully as he could. They were cut from the same cloth, so to speak.

Nobody understood just how lonely she felt.

Ballora and Baby had killed the last two workers, and tonight, Freddy was in need of repairs again. So either Freddy or Foxy would get to kill the employee, unless they were crafty enough to avoid them both.

Foxy could hear their troubled breathing as they crawled through Funtime Auditorium. She got down on all fours and skittered around the Auditorium, leaping from place to place and knocking over boxes. Foxy tried to cheer herself up by snarling and racing after them as they got up and ran for the repairs room.

Not even the thrill of the hunt could take her mind off Foxy.

The second Foxy thought of his - her - name, she lost her concentration, slipped and crashed into the wall. The worker wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Foxy snarled in frustration.

All mine now, Freddy said wickedly. I'll have fun with this one.

It's alright, Baby said softly. You'll get them next time, Foxy.

Or perhaps not, Ballora said helpfully.

Ballora, Baby murmured. Foxy doesn't feel herself. All of the voices of the Others are gone, remember?

I know, Ballora sighed. But what's wrong with her?

She's lonely, Baby explained.

Foxy had nobody to talk to. Nowhere to turn. Because the others had never felt loneliness before. None of them had ever felt like this. None of them knew. Only Foxy had heard the Others, so only she knew what it was like having them there. Only Foxy knew their voices. Only Foxy knew Other-Foxy's voice.

So none of them knew what it was like for it to be gone.

I'm sorry, Foxy, Baby murmured. I wish I could help you.

Foxy knew. Baby didn't like it when she couldn't help her friends.

Foxy hated it even more.

Later that night, at around midnight and long after Freddy had devoured the worker and cleaned up, Foxy sat alone on her podium. She stared into the empty darkness of her Auditorium and wondered what it was like when all of the lights were on. With no memories of the daytime and only vague impressions of what she did outside of the night, Foxy was left with only her imagination of what her Auditorium would be like in color.