Christ almighty, I'm going to be late again. Fredbear's Family Diner is a great place, but God help you if you work there. The hours are completely insane. Hey, that still doesn't stop me from loving the place! My boss, Scott, is a pretty friendly guy, and he'll give you a raise if you look like you need it. If you break the rules, like... coming to work late, for instance, though, he'll have your ass. I know this from personal experience. I think this'll bring me to my third strike. I can't handle being fired, this job is basically supporting my entire life. After rushing through traffic and nearly hitting two cars, I've finally made it to Fredbear's. "John, I've talked to you about this," Scott comes out of the diner to tell me, "This is the third time you've been late in the past week!" "Yes, sir," I mumble, ashamed, "I promise it won't happen again." "There IS no 'again'," Scott says, "The diner's shutting down today, and the entire company is disbanding. I'm sorry, John, I know how much this place means to you. Believe me, you're not the only one shocked by this. The higher-ups haven't even told me why they're doing it." "Wait, what?!" I reply, confused, "So... they're just doing this... because they feel like it? Because they just don't feel like doing this anymore?" "That's what we'll have to believe for now." Scott glumly says, "John, it's been nice knowing you. If the place ever opens again, or if someone else takes up the mantle, I won't hesitate to come back. I'd advise you to do the same, you do some good work here with the mechanical stuff. May our paths cross again." "Goodbye, Scott." I step back into my car and drive back home, the whole while thinking about how it's so stupid that the company would just off itself like that. Thank God I know how to save money, otherwise I would be dirt-poor about now. After deciding that it's too early to just go back home, I drive to a coffee shop. As I sip my espresso and munch on my jelly donut, I get to thinking. There's got to be something bigger going on. A well-respected company doesn't just completely end itself for no discernible reason, does it? I walk over to the newsstand and grab today's paper. "FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT BUYS LOCAL FAMILY DINER'S RIGHTS", the headline reads. "Fazbear Entertainment"? Sounds like some shoddy knock-off of Fredbear's. As I read more into the article, though, I become intrigued. This company's existed for a short while and it's already racked up over a million dollars. What are its plans...? A man with a leather briefcase walks into the coffee shop, a bell signaling his arrival. He looks to me and beckons for me to come to him. I oblige, and I sit down across from him. He has slicked-back grey hair and a five-o'-clock shadow. "So, you worked for that diner, didn't you?" he asks in a strangely hushed tone. "Uh... yeah," I reply, "How did you know that?" He chuckles and says, "Check your shirt." "...Oh." I quietly say, embarrassed at not remembering that I was still in uniform. "So, uh, I've got a proposition for you." "What do you mean by that?" He leans in close and says, "A... job offer." I try to mask my joy by asking in a faux-calm voice, "What kind of job are we talking about here?" "I - no, we- have been checking out your work for a while now, Mr. Matthews. You seem like a real tech whiz. How would you like to do what you were doing at Fredbear's, but for a higher salary and better benefits?" "That sounds... really good! I'd love to do that!" "Great, great." The man then sets his briefcase onto the table and opens it. Inside, there are a bunch of pictures and a few forms. Everything in the briefcase is branded with the name "Fazbear Entertainment". "Wait, you work for Fazbear Entertainment? The place that bought out Fredbear's?" "Well, you could say that. I am the CEO of the company. Now, let's move on." "Mr. Matthews, I'm going to have to have you sign these forms here," the man says, handing me a few forms and a pen. "Okay, sure thing... erm... sir!" As I sign those few forms, I try and shake the lingering thoughts that I'm doing something I probably shouldn't. They're just intrusive thoughts, right? Nothing more to them! "Thank you. Now, I'm just going to show you these pictures you've probably been wondering about." As he lays them down in front of me, I get a closer look at them. There are three images. The first picture is a title card for something called "Fredbear & Friends". With its bright colors and goofy font, I would bet it's some show they're making for kids. The second picture is of Fredbear and four other animatronics. They seem to have given Fredbear a purple hat and bow tie, which is an interesting change. Those four other animatronics... I recognize them. They're rejected concepts for Fredbear's possible sidekicks! "Freddy", "Bonnie", "Chica", and "Foxy"! The last picture on the table is one of two people inside of Fredbear and a strange yellow version of "Bonnie". What could that be for? After he gathers the three pictures and puts them back into the case neatly, he folds his hands and asks me, "So, Jonathan, what did you think?" "Uh... very interesting." He looks at the pictures while telling me, "These pictures are for my company's upcoming projects. Our first project, "Fredbear & Friends", is shown in the first two pictures. It's a TV show based on all five of the characters you see in the second picture." Huh, I figured as much.

"Our second project is "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza". This upcoming restaurant will feature Fredbear and a new character we're debuting - "Spring Bonnie". This marks the release of our patent pending "spring lock suits", animatronics that you can wear if you have a hand crank... handy." While that was a bad pun, that is a very good idea. "So, Jonathan, be honest. What do you think of these plans?" "Well... it's honestly quite overwhelming. A TV show based on a company I worked with from the start? That's a pretty awesome thing to think about. Your "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" idea seems very interesting, too, especially the part about the use of "spring locks". Honestly, I can't wait to get started!" "Well, I'm sorry to say that you probably will have to wait. Our technological limitations at the time being allow us to have this project done... in 1983." "That many years?! What-what will I do until then?!" "Just live your life as normal. We'll contact you when you're ready. Don't worry about becoming poor or anything, either. We'll pay for all of your expenses until the projects are ready." "That's really kind of you, sir! Well... see you in a few years, I guess!" "Goodbye for now, Jonathan." The man gets up from his seat, briefcase in hand, and walks out of the shop without another word. I get up from my own seat, a little bit shaken from the odd event that just happened, pay for the espresso and the donut, and promptly leave. I get in my car, drive home, and wait.