Family pizzeria looking for security guard to work the nightshift. 12am-6am. Monitor cameras, ensure the safety of equipment and animatronic characters. Not responsible for injury/dismemberment. $120 a week. To apply call: 1-888-FAZ-FAZBEAR.

Among the columns of news articles in the old magazine you were handed out on the street, this ad, of all things, was what caught your attention. A children's pizzeria with animatronic characters? Despite the low funding, you knew that it was expensive in the first place to establish such a place; it wasn't unexpected. Perhaps a hand was needed.

After careful consideration of the warnings and benefits, you decided that perhaps you would be the hand held out for the company. With your piqued interest and free time, you dialed the number listed at the bottom of the creased paper. An answer was received not even thirty seconds after the dial tone, followed by a voice sounding exhausted and more as hell. Nonetheless, you obtained the job.

Unlocking the doors to the building, the whiff of pizza emanating from inside filled your senses just as quickly as it left. The checkered tiles of the entryway shimmered underneath the moonlight. Deciding you might as well head into the designated office before the clock hit midnight, you pulled out the flashlight you were provided and flicked it on, pointing it in front of you and following the trail deeper in the building.

The animatronic band on stage, though deactivated, sent an eerie tension through the room, the silence almost unsettling were it not for the quiet hum emanating from the office up ahead. Your footsteps echoed through the large hall as you made your way to the lit room.

What you discovered was... not in your resume.

Sitting in the wheeled chair in front of the desk, a middle-aged man with bright blue eyes was seated, a tired look laced in his expression. As you peeked in, though, he looked up, confused.

"Huh? You're not supposed-"

His words were interrupted by the sudden ringing of the phone placed upon the desk.