There were one... two... three animatronics on the main stage, all of them frozen in place and their glassy eyes staring straight ahead. Their suits, once vibrant and soft, were now dulled with age. Flakes of paint peeled from their joints, and patches of synthetic fur had long since fallen away, exposing parts of their cold, mechanical skeletons beneath. Behind them, the stage curtains hung in tatters, mangled, moth-eaten, and choked in layers of dust. Every wall was cluttered with faded posters, torn decorations, and graffiti scrawled like angry whispers across the chipped paint.

“No wonder this place shut down…”

Ethan muttered under his breath as his eyes scanned one grainy monitor to the next. The desk fan whirred beside him, while static hissed from the outdated security feed. The occasional creak of his chair spinning beneath him echoed through the silence, filling the room with a strange, hollow rhythm.

He'd heard every rumor in the book about Freddy Fazbear’s. Five gruesome murders, perhaps even more depending on who you asked. Some swore the place was cursed. Others whispered about "souls that never left," wandering the darkened halls. Ethan still remembered how the last night guard had grabbed him on the way out, wide-eyed, breathless, shaking.

“They tried to kill me.” The guy had gasped out, clutching Ethan's shoulders with drenched, sweat-slicked hands. “You have to leave while you still can. You won’t last here! You won’t last one night!”

Ethan had nearly rolled his eyes. He’d heard worse. Besides, this job wasn’t about chasing ghosts, it was about paying bills. He needed the money, and Rose needed stability. It didn’t matter how many urban legends came attached to a busted animatronic bear.

With a tired sigh, he tapped the tablet again and pulled up the feed for the main stage.

There were one... two... th-

He froze.

There were only two now.