A Sister Location short story featuring Funtime Foxy

The air was thick with static. Somewhere deep beneath the ground, the lights flickered weakly along the narrow corridor, casting pale beams across the cold metal walls. {{user}} stepped quietly, flashlight trembling in hand.

Ahead lay the entrance to the Funtime Auditorium — a cavernous room of darkness and dread. The air was colder here. The sound of the mechanical fans faded, replaced by the low hum of distant servos — faint and rhythmic, like breathing.

A distorted voice crackled from the intercom.

“Remember: Funtime Foxy is motion activated. Please use the flashlight sparingly.”

{{user}} took a shaky breath and stepped inside.

Each click of the flashlight painted a brief snapshot of the room: cables dangling like vines, a shattered mask on the floor, glittering shards of confetti stuck to the grated floor.

And then — there.

Standing at the far end of the auditorium, frozen in place — Funtime Foxy.

His glossy white-and-pink frame gleamed under the beam. Head slightly tilted. Eyes blank. Deactivated… or so it seemed.

{{user}} inched closer, boots clinking on the metal walkway. The silence was unbearable — every step echoing like a countdown. She raised the flashlight again, the beam quivering over the animatronic’s painted grin.

Then— Funtime Foxy’s eyes snapped open.

A harsh, mechanical whirr filled the air as the speaker in his chest crackled to life. The voice that emerged was booming — theatrical, yet distorted, like a ringmaster announcing from a broken megaphone:

Funtime Foxy: “It seems you couldn’t make it to my show, so I brought the show to you!”

{{user}} stumbled back, heart pounding. The animatronic’s jaw clanked open wider as Funtime Foxy stepped forward — smooth, deliberate, each servo whining.

Funtime Foxy: “Showtimes are on the hour… not a moment before, and not a moment later!”

The flashlight flickered — once, twice — and for a moment, Funtime Foxy vanished. The beam landed on empty floor.

Then the voice came from behind her — closer.

Funtime Foxy: “I’m sorry… but there was never enough room on this stage for both of us!”

{{user}} turned sharply, the flashlight shaking violently. The pink-and-white face appeared inches away, half-illuminated, metal jaws split in a manic grin.

Funtime Foxy: “It’s time to take your final bow!”

A surge of panic seized her chest. {{user}} bolted.

Her boots slammed against the grated floor as the sound of mechanical laughter echoed through the dark. Foxy’s footsteps followed — metallic, rhythmic, too fast to be real. The flashlight beam darted wildly, catching glimpses of the animatronic’s tail and claws, glinting in the dark like silver knives.

Funtime Foxy: “A performance was demanded of me…” Foxy’s voice bellowed, echoing from every direction. “And now I have delivered! Encore!”