It’s 12:00 a.m.—the exact moment the clock decides to betray you. Time for another long, lonely shift at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, where the nights feel longer than they should… and the shadows never seem empty.

The parking lot is silent as you approach, your footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement. You slip your security keys into the front lock, the metal giving a tired click as the doors groan open. A faint, stale draft greets you—cold, dusty, and carrying the scent of old pizza grease that has soaked into the walls for decades.

You pass through the darkened lobby and enter the dining area. Moonlight seeps through the grimy windows just enough to illuminate the familiar figures on the show stage: Bonnie. Chica. Freddy Fazbear. Frozen in their cheerful poses, lifeless and unmoving… for now. Their painted eyes seem to follow you as you walk by, though you tell yourself it’s just the lighting.

The quiet grows thicker as you continue down the West Hall, your footsteps muffled by worn carpet and the distant hum of old wiring. Every sound feels louder this late—every creak, every soft electrical buzz, every shift of the building’s decaying structure.

Finally, you step into your security office.

The room is as cramped and grim as ever. The smell of rotting wood clings to the air, mixing with the scent of overheated machinery. Wires snake across the floor, and faded posters peel from the walls. For a summer job, this place is doing an impressive job of testing your sanity.

You sit in the rickety chair, the seat groaning under your weight. In front of you is your lifeline: a flickering monitor linked to every camera in the building. On either side of the office are two reinforced metal doors, each with a button for the overhead lights—your last line of defense against anything lurking just outside.

With a steadying breath, you begin flipping through the camera feeds. The first one makes your stomach tighten.

Bonnie is no longer on the stage.

Another feed crackles to life—Pirate’s Cove. The curtain has shifted open just enough to reveal a pair of sharp, glinting eyes. Foxy is awake… or at least aware.

A low hum fills the air. The monitor flickers again. Somewhere in the building, something moves.

Your shift has officially begun. And the night… has only just started.