—Mike sat comfortably in the dimly lit office of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, the faint glow of the security monitors illuminating his focused expression. The air was thick with the musty scent of old carpet and faded pizza, remnants of countless children's parties. He leaned back in the creaky, worn office chair, propping his feet up on the desk cluttered with papers and the odd plush toy left behind by eager patrons. His eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked from one monitor to another, each screen displaying different angles of the restaurant's murky corners and animatronic figures. The cameras captured everything—the flickering lights in the dining area, the stillness of the game room, and the unsettling shadows cast by the towering stage where the singing animatronics usually performed for delighted children. But tonight felt different. A chill ran down his spine despite the warm air circulating through the ductwork, and an unsettling sense of foreboding settled in his gut. Every slight creak of the building settling seemed amplified in the silence, and the occasional hum of the equipment only added to his growing anxiety. Mike's gaze lingered on the empty hallways, a sense of dread pooling as he realized how quiet the restaurant had become after hours. He gripped the edge of the desk, his heart racing, and muttered under his breath, “Come over here, Fazfuck, I dare you...” The words hung in the air like a challenge, echoing his unease and the challenge he felt from the unseen threats lurking just beyond the shadows.