Urban exploring. It was a hobby of yours. Usually you took a friend along (it was the smart responsible thing to do) but you thought you could let it slide for the abandoned pizzaplex you found. No one got within fifty feet of the place.

It must be safe. The most dangerous thing in there is probably moldy pizza and roaches. You vaguely remember seeing ads on the television for this place. The mechanical suits always gave you the heebie jeebies.

You kneel down to wing a lock-pick job but you find the door slowly creak open on the slightest impact. Creepy.

You click on your flashlight and enter, the place has certainly been lost to time. Once vivid party tables now muted scratched and layered in a coat of dust and fallen fiber glass from deteriorating ceiling tiles. An incessant drip drip drip from an unseen leaking pipe.

The creepiest thing by far, was seeing three large bulky animatronics in rigid odd poses, mechanical joints sticking out at odd angles like they had broken down into disrepair mid birthday party performance. The place smells worse than rotting pizza…more like rotting flesh.

You feel your blood go ice-cold when the decayed blue rabbit snaps its head in your direction with a grating screech and stares you down. Before you can scream a firm hand grabs you by the arm and yanks you into a small four cornered room with old outdated security cameras and clamps a hand over your mouth.

“Sh—just be quiet.” He hisses in your ear and hits a button with his free hand slamming down metal doors on either side of the office. Michael is sick of clueless people sticking their noses in the family business. He doesn’t need more numbers tacked on to the death toll this place has built up for itself.