Funtimes Never Die: F.Freddy x Reader #1

Forty-Three: A New Solution

John managed to sneak out to the parking lot to his car after returning to the surface. The restaurant was bustling with new and old families, and their children were making the entire building shake with their laughter and cries of joy. He was concerned whether he was going to be caught red-handed, no pun intended, with his uniform destroyed by bloodstains. He had been gone far too long not to be of sudden interest, especially for Allen. When the elevator first opened, it was the first person he looked for. Then, he made sure there weren't any customers coming in and out of the building at the same time. He had taken a quick glance at the prize counter, hoping the man was either too busy paying attention to an excited child with tickets or if he was there at all. Thankfully, he wasn't working the counter for the time. Allen was likely busy in the kitchen eating or maybe even with Afton if something was serious. Nothing that serious ever happened at Circus Baby's, yet there was that one time where (Y/N) had told him about the child with the head injury.

He looked up from his name tag after spending a small bit of time cleaning it. Now that he thought about it, did the child suffer from a head injury from unsupervised horseplay? Perhaps that was a cover story for the killer robots and that one of them tried to kill the kid. That must mean she was there when it was about to happen and stepped in. She really risked her own life for that? It's...it's something I can respect I guess. She does her job. He sighed weakly, closing his eyes as his gut churned. He still struggled to believe that the owner of Circus Baby's, and the maker of the animatronics at that, was capable of such monstrous intent. However, Freddy's attempt to murder him and (Y/N) who had protected him had to be enough to convince his mind what lay before him was true. They murder because they were made to murder for him. He swallowed and shook his head. He spent too much time away from his post, now. He needed to get back inside before Allen took it upon himself to find him, or worse, go underground himself. He whimpered weakly at the thought. There was no way he could survive like he did. He was lucky. As much of a bastard as the old man was, he didn't want to see him killed.

John opened his car door, leaving his blood soiled clothes in his passenger floorboard. He was thankful for the extra uniform he was wearing as a replacement. When he was hired a couple of days ago he was having trouble finding the best fit, so he took two sets of the uniform home to find the right one. He had forgotten to return it, but he was glad he had it now. He closed the car door and looked back at the restaurant front doors. He could still see the children playing and dancing around the stage area, making him frown weakly. Which one is next? He quickly shook his head, pushing out the doubtful thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to think about how one of those poor, innocent kids were next in line to be taken from their families. It was happening because of an evil, old man named Afton.

John squinted, feeling anger boiling in his chest. He clenched his fists as John stared into the window of the restaurant. He felt he had to help somehow. Just like (Y/N), he needed to help stop this horror show before it was too late. Yet what could he do? Keep the secret. They want to escape. But is that really going to help anything? What if he keeps making robots? John held his chin. "That's the real question..." he mumbled softly under his breath. "If they left...Afton could just make more. He knows what he's doing if he made those robots himself. The real problem isn't getting them out, it's stopping Afton entirely. I need to tell her, and as soon as I can." He started to the door, but he continued to acknowledge the notion. "If we can stop Afton from what he's doing, then kids will remain safe and the animatronic's can be remade or something." He sighed, and John scratched his head as he opened the door. "But that's too difficult to pull off right now isn't it?"

"What's too difficult?"

He quickly looked up. John glanced at Allen, who stood with crossed arms. "You—" he mumbled, then cleared his throat to retrieve his composure. "You aren't at your counter. Why are you upfront?"