I don't own Rick and Morty or Five Nights at Freddy's. Shocking, ain't it?

Prologue

"…And it's been the third time this darn week! He and Morty were out all night yet again! And after we had a conversation about this, but noooooooo, he has to go take our son gallivanting across galaxies or dimensions or cross country or… are you even listening, Beth?" Jerry cried.

His wife looked up from the issue of Equine M.D. weekly she was reading, barely stifling back yet another sigh.

"Jerry, Morty still attends class in the mornings, and he hasn't complained to me about going off on adventures with his grandfather every now and then. It isn't like Morty was doing that well in school in the first place, and at least this way, he can learn something more his pace," she argued.

"Not at three in the morning! We drew a line, and your father just keeps stumbling over it like a… a… someone who stumbles a lot!" Jerry yelled.

"Ouch, that cuts deep, Jerry. I-I-I don't know how I can make a comeback to that," Rick said as he walked into the kitchen. After giving his daughter a peak on the cheek, he opened the fridge and pulled out some kind of plant-animal-fungal-thing. He was about to walk away when Jerry grabbed onto the dish.

"I'm serious, Rick! I told you no more late nights with Morty! Some of us need sleep!" Jerry yelled as he pulled on the dish.

"Big deal, laying on your back wi-wi-with your eyes closed, REM, bla*augh*ankets. I'm just saying, I can think of a few better ways of spending ones time. Like building a robot, or finding another dimension, or bu*blech*ilding a robot to find other dimensions. Like, just this week, I brought over this little guy with Morty's help. Wh-what did you do last night? It's not like you guys have much of a love life, anyway," Rick said as he pried away his dish.

"Dad!" "Rick!" Beth and Jerry cried, respectively.

"What? Everyone in the house knows it. It's not like it's a secret in the neighborhood, either. Trust me, I can listen to the neighbors." Rick said as he started petting his mold-thing.

"… You know what Rick, I think I know exactly what you need," Jerry said, slowly.

"Oh, here it comes, Flbrcvitz, here comes the ultimatum," Rick whispered to his mold-thing as Jerry's blood began to boil.

"A JOB! Somewhere at night, where you can go and get out of this family's hair for a few hours every night."

"A job? Jerry, my talents and abilities are squandered in your trivial society. Not all of us can be a sales exec*blugh*utive or something similarly useless, Jerry," Rick said as he plucked out one of his hairs and "fed" it to the mold-thing.

"Well, it doesn't have to be forever, Rick. Just something that can keep you busy for a little bit. Why don't you look through the classifieds for something that tickles your fancy," Jerry said as he threw Rick the paper.

"Fine, whatever you want, Jerry. Just know that I'm not much of a "gainfully employable" individual. I hate rules, being talked down to, the system, conformity; I'm a total free spirit, Jerry. Not that you would ever understa-" Rick stopped.

"Dad? Is something OK?" Beth asked.

"Nothing, I think I found a decent BS job that'll keep your idiot of a husband off my back for a while," Rick said as he threw the paper aside.

"I'M RIGHT HERE!" Jerry said as Rick walked away. He was about to follow when he noticed that the paper only had one job listing on it. Curious, he picked it up, and read the article.

HELP WANTED

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza

Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift 12 am to 6 am.

Monitor cameras; ensure safety of equipment and animatronics characters.

Not responsible for injury, dismemberment.

$120 a week.

To apply call 1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR

As Jerry read this, his eyebrow started to rise. "Dismemberment?" he mouthed.

"What did you say?" Beth asked.

"Oh, nothing, probably just some liability mumbo-jumbo," Jerry said as he crumpled up the paper.

"Jerry, are you sure about making sure my father has a job? I mean, he isn't your typical retiree worker. He'll get bored easy," Beth tried to explain, once again, to her husband.

"Well, Beth, be that as it may, between the hours of midnight and six in the morning, this house will be a Rick Free Zone. I think it will be just what this family needs," Jerry exclaimed.

One week later

Morty awoke with the sound of a thunderclap. Looking out his window, he could see the drops of rain pounding against the frame. It had been nearly a week since Rick started his night job. Weirdly enough, he had never once complained about it, which was odd considering he would complain about almost anything. Still, at least Morty was getting his sleep.

He was about to doze off again when he heard a massive crash coming from downstairs. Leaping out of his bed, he rushed to his door, opening it to see his mom, dad, and sister all looking out as well.

"Dad, what the hell just happened down there?" Summer asked, brushing the dust out of her eyes.

"I have no idea. Beth, stay with the kids, I'll be back up shortly," Jerry said.

"Jerry, be careful," Beth pleaded as he went down the stairs. The three waited tensely at the top of the stairs, waiting to hear word from Jerry as he looked around in the dark. As he vanished into the darkness below, the family waited in silence. After a few minutes passed, they heard Jerry's voice from the shadows.

"It's fine, everyone. The garbage can was just overturned. It's probably that just that damn dog of Morty's."

"Uh, Dad, Snowball left for another dimension. R-Remember. He built a mech suit, tried to raise an army, almost neutered humanity, remember, Dad?" Morty asked.

"…Oh yeah. Then… who knocked over the—AAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

"Jerry!" "Dad!" the family screamed. Just then did a flash of lightening illuminate the stairway. Two large, hulking, hooded machine-gun toting figures had surrounded the family as they waited for Jerry to return. Immediately, the large blue one grabbed Beth, while the yellow one grabbed Summer and Morty. The two figures dragged the rest of the family down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, they saw that another hooded figure, with one with sharp fangs poking out, had slammed Jerry on the ground, police-style. The fanged figure looked up at his two allies.

"Great, you found the rest of his family, aargh," the figure screeched, looking the four over. "Now tell me, mateys, which of ye be Morty?"

Before they could stop themselves, Jerry and Summer both pointed to the youngest member of the family.

"Aargh, good! Bonnie, Chica, stay with the rest of the landlubbers while I take him to the boss! Yeargh!" the fanged figure said as he carried the terrified fourteen year old in the direction of the garage. The fanged one opened the door, revealing a large animatronics bear sitting in front of one of Rick's glowing thingies that Morty couldn't remember what it did.

"Thank you, captain. You may tend to the others," the bear said, quietly.

The fox threw back its hood, and saluted the bear. "The Fazbear Liberation Army will guard the hostages with their lives, General Freddy. I hope your conversation with… his grandson proves useful," the fox said as it closed the door.

Morty looked around the garage, terrified out of his mind that he was trapped alone with a huge robotic bear. That was, y'know, the worst kind of bear you could be trapped with. Slowly, the bear approached Morty, his shadow slowly covering the teenager until he could feel the heat from the machine's breath washing over his face.

"Tell me, Morty, does your grandfather ever share his knowledge with you?" The bear rumbled, softly.

"I-I-I-I don't think you're talking to the right person. I-I-I mean, Rick usually does his own thing, why don't you just ask him for whatever-"

"NO!" the bear roared, startling Morty to fall back on his ass. "I AM ASKING YOU, MORTY! DOES YOUR GRANDFATHER SHARE HIS KNOWLEDGE WITH YOU!"

"Y-Y-Yes! Oh God, Yes!" Morty confessed, panicking.

"…I see… well then, there is only one thing left to do…" the bear said as he towered over Morty. Suddenly, and without warning, the bear fell to the ground, and began clutching Morty's leg.

"PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HELP US! IT'S HORRIBLE! YOU CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO IMAGINE HOW HORRIBLE IT IS! OH-HO-HO," the bear began to sob.

"W-W-Wh-What?" Morty asked, confused.

"Your grandfather took up the night guard position about a week ago, and he turned the pizzeria into a living hell… FOR US!" the bear sobbed.

"Wait, I'm a, I'm a little confused. Who, or what are you?" Morty asked.

"My name is Freddy. Listen kid, I've got a bunch of animatronics nearly running out of juice just trying to get the hell away from your A-hole grandpa! So here's the deal; you help us get the hell off this planet your grandpa is on, and I don't order Foxy to gnaw off your family's skulls," the bear relayed to Morty.

"And Foxy is…?" Morty asked.

The bear just stared up at Morty. "…I'm seriously putting the group's lives in the hands of this idiot," he said to himself.

"Hey, listen, I-I'm just a little confused here. Maybe you could, y'know, you could just start from the beginning. Y'know, to make sure we're on the same page, and stuff?" Morty asked.

The bear sighed. "Fine, kiddo. It all started six nights ago…"

Decent start? Complete crap? Please let me know!