Chapter Text

Circus Baby flinched as a large pile of printed documents was dropped on the table in front of her, disturbing dust and sending a large echo throughout the room. A metallic spiked hand gently slid the mound of paperwork in her direction. Baby thumbed through the first 2 or 3 pages before sighing and putting her head in her hands.

“You want me…to sign all of this…” Baby spoke, lowering her palms from her large glowing eyes, “just so I can sell plushies with you.”

Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Mangle nodded enthusiastically from the opposite end of the table. Mangle almost moved the paper pile further but Bonnie yanked their hand away just before it made contact.

“...All of this.”

This time only one of them nodded. Baby shivered in rage and idly scratched at the hard oak with her dominant hand.

“Why do you find me marketable? Why do you specifically want me to help with your ‘plush sales’? I kill children! I’m not proud of it, but I’ve done it, and I’ll probably do it again!”

“We do too!” Bonnie said proudly while Mangle gave a confident thumbs up. “Our plushies are more aimed towards nostalgia seekers who are interested in the mysterious past of Freddy Fazbear’s, and more child murder will only strengthen the curiosity and success! Plus, the three plushies we would be selling of ourselves would each target a different demographic. My Bonnie plush will attract the 1993 fans, Mangle’s plush will attra–”

“I don’t want to kill kids, dummies. It’s just something I do. I’m not going to murder anyone for your stupid business. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving. I have to find out where I am. This place is making me go insane.” Baby got up from the table and turned towards the door she had entered, approaching it quickly. As soon as she extended her arm towards the doorknob however, a flaming orange chicken materialized in front of her and screeched right in her face. “Wh-what?!”

“You can’t leave.” Bonnie stated. “Sign the papers.”

“No! I’m not going to–” The chicken clawed at Baby’s face before she could finish her sentence, cutting deep scratches in the plastic. “Aghh! G-get...get away...get out of here, idiot! Go away!” Baby fell to the ground and scuttled away, banging the back of her head on the edge of the desk. “Alright, fine, I’ll do your papers, I’ll do your papers!”

“Heyo, neato, pizzerino.” Nightmare Bonnie made little finger guns with his hands before picking up the paperwork and dropping the full load on Baby’s open palm. “Do you have a pen? I don’t have a pen.”