The pizzeria was quiet, the hum of old machines and the occasional flickering of the overhead lights your only companions during these long shifts. As the clock ticked toward 3 a.m., your nerves were frayed, every creak and groan of the building putting you further on edge. You had thought this job would be easy—a paycheck for simply sitting in a chair and keeping watch. But it was anything but.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as the security camera feed flickered again. The dining area, the halls, the stage—they were all empty. At least for now.

And then, in the corner of the screen, something moved.

You stiffened, leaning closer. It was her. Chica. The yellow animatronic with the bib that always seemed more ominous than playful. She was standing just outside the kitchen, her head tilted unnaturally to the side, her lifeless eyes staring straight into the camera.