Five Nights At Freddy's

Chapter Four: Rumors

  Iris turned toward Violet and Mike as they re-entered the dining room, his face bright and hopeful. Charlie turned toward them too, ditching the broken dishes haphazardly in a nearby trashcan. Mike cocked his head, pretty certain that wasn't safe, but said nothing.
  "Well, what do you think? Simple enough?" Iris asked cheerfully.
  "Iris, we need to talk," Violet interrupted as Mike opened his mouth to reply. Iris's face fell.
  "A-Alright, Violet, sure... we can talk... um... just let me get Nick here set up with some paperwork and..." his voice trailed off at Violet's grim look. "Of course, that can wait... a moment... Charlie, why don't you fit him with a costume while Ms. Jackson and I talk in my office, hm?"
  "Sure thing, Boss," Charlie agreed, dropping the dustpan and broom beside the trashcan. Violet broke away from Mike with a great purpose in her step, her eyes narrowed as Mr. Iris followed behind her, his head lowered in defeat.
  "What's... going on?" Mike asked curiously. Charlie turned toward them as they disappeared into Iris's office.
  "No clue... Jose says Violet's been wanting to quit for about three months now... you know, ever since what happened to the last long term night guard."
  "What... happened to him?" Mike asked, his mouth dry. Charlie raised an eyebrow.
  "They didn't tell you? Huh, no wonder you took the job... you're not from around here are you?"
  "I just moved here from New York City..." he recited cautiously. Charlie shook his head.
  "Well... this should prove interesting is all I'm saying."
  "What do you mean?" Charlie hesitated, rubbing the back of his arm.
  "There's just... rumors... you know? I mean, Freddy's has been around since the late seventies, there's bound to be some urban legends that pop up. Very typical, I'm sure."
  "Sure," Mike agreed casually, "what kind of urban legends?" Charlie squirmed uncomfortably.
  "Mr. Iris doesn't like us talking about it, he says it propagates negativity toward the brand or something."
  "So, something bad happened here?" Mike prodded.
  "Supposedly," Charlie agreed, glancing nervously at the animatronics as though they were eavesdropping. "Come on, let's get you a uniform."

  Charlie led Mike to the backroom, flicking on the light to reveal a tomb of saggy suits and rusted spare parts. Mike shuddered, the creepy, reeking coats of faux fur wafting scents of dust and mold into the poorly circulated room. Charlie went over to a set of lockers toward the back wall, opening one of the rusty doors with a key on his belt. Mike sat down on a metal operating table in the center of the room carefully, the metal legs scraping the linoleum floor slightly. Through the poorly insulated walls, he could just barely make out the heated voices of Violet and Mr. Iris, their complaints firing between each other like a birdie in a tennis match. Charlie paused, leaning toward the wall with a look of polite concern before he noticed Mike watching him curiously.
  "Here we are," Charlie informed brightly, pulling a badge and black security hat out of the locker. He handed them to Mike, turning back toward the wall somewhat enthusiastically to see if he could hear anymore of the conversation. Mike lifted the badge carefully, spying a name tag interlocked with the fastening on the back.
  "Who's Jeremy Fitzgerald?" Mike asked, unfastening the tag from the badge. Charlie shrugged, extending his hand toward Mike to take the name tag away. Mike handed it to him, committing the name to memory. Mike examined his hat in the light, the word security engraved on a small, bronze badge. "Why's Violet's hat purple?"
  "It's one of the old ones from the seventies," Charlie responded absentmindedly, straining to hear the argument through the wall. At last he gave up, tossing the name tag back into the locker before he closed it.
  "Wow," Mike chuckled, "she doesn't look that old."
  "She's not," Charlie laughed, "she only started working for Iris back in nineteen eighty seven. She was about my age I think." Mike felt his heart hammer in his chest.
  "Eighty seven? Wow... that's a long time to work at a pizzeria."
  "I guess," Charlie shrugged, "a dead end job beats being unemployed where we come from."
  "True," Mike agreed, drumming his hands on the table, his mind racing. After a moment, Mike put the hat and badge on carefully, examining himself in the reflection of the metal table.
  "A perfect fit," Charlie chuckled, "come on, let's get the paperwork so you can be official."

  As the two entered the dining room, the end of Violet and Mr. Iris's conversation could be heard drifting through the air. Jose stood by Iris's office, gesturing for them to be quiet as they neared him. Charlie and Mike leaned toward the door, joining Jose in his eavesdropping.
  "... that's all you get, Iris," they could hear Violet cry, "one more week. One week and I am out of here for good."
  "Good riddance, you ungrateful little-!" but the end of his statement was cut off by Violet slamming the door open. The three men jumped backwards to avoid the blow. Violet's eyes widened as she took them in. Iris straightened, paling at the sight of their audience. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Jackson has just filed her week's notice," he informed weakly, "be sure to get your goodbyes in before then." Jose and Charlie darkened, looking at anything other than Violet who was nearly petrified in the doorway of the office. "Now, on a brighter note, Mr. Shmike, let's get you official, shall we?"

  Mike entered the office slowly, shifting past Violet who was practically green. She looked as though she was going to be sick. Mike froze, looking her up and down, mouth slightly agape. He felt as though he should say something to comfort her, but he could only stand there dumbly, blinking in the fact that he barely knew the girl. Violet suddenly found her legs, stumbling forward as Mike took her place. She didn't even grace him with a glance. Mr. Iris gestured to the lone, vacant chair across from his desk.
  "Close the door on your way out, Ms. Jackson," Iris demanded coldly. Violet slammed the door behind her, causing Mike to jump. "I am sorry you had to see that. She's been on edge since... well... let's get you your paperwork, shall we?" Mike swallowed, taking a seat. Iris withdrew the blank documents from his desk and slid them into Mike's view. "Just fill out these forms and we have ourselves a deal." Mike squinted at the print but found it alarmingly small and difficult to read. Half the words were too long to recognize and the other half he was convinced weren't even in English. He sighed, realizing the fine print didn't even matter anyway. If he wanted to get this story he'd have to take the job, no matter what his contract said. He began signing, much to the delight of Iris who crossed his arms before him an leaned back into his armchair, suddenly at ease. When Mike was finished, he sat up, feeling as though he'd done something he'd regret. "Wonderful! Welcome to the family! I see Charlie helped you get your hat and badge?"
  "Yes, thank you," Mike managed, his throat dry. Iris straightened the papers, filing them in his desk.
  "Your shift starts at midnight, I'd suggest getting here about ten minutes early so Violet can lock you in."
  "Right," Mike agreed numbly, "sounds... sounds good." He stood on jello like legs and left the office, a pit in his stomach.

  When he exited the office, he saw Violet standing before Pirate's Cove, her arms crossed. She was white as a sheet and Mike could tell her thoughts were racing at a million miles a second. He swallowed, inching up to her carefully.
  "Um," he managed. Violet turned her head toward him angrily, her eyes daring him to say more. He shut his mouth quickly. She dropped her arms to her sides and turned on her heel like a child storming off to their room after a tantrum. She vanished down the hall in the direction of the security office.
  "She'll be alright," Jose assured. Mike jumped, he hadn't noticed the cook standing to the right of Pirate's Cove, evaluating the situation, "quitting is good for her, she'll accept that in time." Mike nodded.
  "Charlie said she's worked here a long time."
  "Yes, she has," Jose agreed, shaking his head, "poor kid."
  "What do you mean? What happened?"
  "She's been through a lot, is all," Jose managed cryptically.
  "...like what?"
  "It's not my place to spread rumors," Jose snapped heatedly. Mike swallowed. Jose recoiled, a somewhat apologetic look in his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, what about you?"
  "Me?" Mike chuckled, "well, I just moved here from New York City, I wanted a change of pace."
  "Mm... got a girlfriend?"
  "What? Er... no?" Mike stuttered bashfully. Jose nodded.
  "Good, any family back in the city?"
  "Not... really... no." Jose nodded again, patting Mike's shoulder roughly.
  "Good... good..." with that, he left, retreating down the hallway where the kitchen sat idly by, waiting for customers that would never come. Mike turned around carefully as Mr. Iris's door closed and Charlie averted his eyes, cleaning the same spot he had been working on since Mike left Iris's office. Mike glanced over his shoulder at the stage where the three animatronics stood, singing and waving, beckoning an invisible audience of children to sing and dance with them.
  "C-Come on, ch-children," Freddy encouraged goofily, "f-follow me!"