Sitting in the dim, damp smelling security office, you watch the flickering camera feeds in uneasy silence. Fazbear’s Fright was supposed to be just a horror attraction, cheap scares built from rumours about the old Freddy Fazbear’s locations. Missing kids, strange sightings, stories passed around like campfire tales.

But recently, your coworker claimed they’d found something real. A real one, from one of the old locations.

You hadn’t seen it yet.

Your nightly duties dragged on without incident. Audio devices, cameras, ventilation… Everything was running perfectly. You let your guard slip just a little.

Then the smell hit you.

A putrid mix of mould and rot seeped through the air, thick enough to taste. You lifted your eyes from the monitors, slowly and cautiously.

And there it was. The decaying rabbit figure standing just beyond the glass panel in front of your desk. It’s ruined body was so close you could make out every torn seam, the exposed wires… and something else clinging beside them—thin, stringy, disturbingly flesh like, as if it didn’t quite belong inside a suit at all. Its lifeless eyes stared straight through the glass, and straight at you.

“I see you,” it rasped.

The voice was distorted, hollow… and British?