The silence was heavy.

You stepped through the old, warped door of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, brushing dust off your jacket as your boots clicked against the checkerboard floor. The air hit you first — a thick mix of old grease, damp wood, and something faintly… metallic. It crawled into your lungs, bitter and unfamiliar.

The place had been shuttered for years, but the old manager still had keys.

“Look around if you want, sweetheart. Just don’t stay after dark,” he’d warned with a crooked smile. “They don’t like that.”

You’d laughed it off.

Now you weren’t so sure.

Your flashlight buzzed weakly to life.

The stage sat straight ahead, lit dimly by a dusty beam of sunlight bleeding in through a boarded-up window. Standing still and lifeless were the main attractions — Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie.

Bonnie caught your attention first.

The purple bunny towered over you even from a distance. His red bow tie looked oddly clean, but the guitar in his arms was chipped and scratched. You squinted.

Was his head tilted just a little to the left…?

You blinked, and it seemed straight again.

Drawn by a mix of nerves and curiosity, you wandered left — toward the Backstage. The hallway narrowed, swallowing your footsteps in muffled echoes. You paused near a torn poster that read:

"Party Time!"

The paper was curled at the corners, like something had tried to peel it away.

You turned the flashlight toward the door ahead.

Inside the Backstage room, animatronic parts littered the shelves — twisted limbs, cracked masks, heads missing eyes. One of them — Freddy’s, maybe — had its jaw slack, and for just a second, you swore it moved.

You backed out slowly. And that’s when you heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow. Heavy. Behind you.

You turned fast — your light shaking. But there was nothing there.

Back in the main hall, something was wrong.

Freddy and Chica still stood on the stage.

Bonnie was gone.

Your stomach dropped. A chill crept down your spine, one you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t hear him move.

You crept toward the security office, trying to steady your breath.

It was darker here. The monitors on the desk flickered. A broken fan spun lazily beside a dust-covered cup. You pressed a few buttons, flipping through camera feeds.

Dining area — empty.

West Hall — static.

Backstage — clear.*

But the Stage Cam now showed only two animatronics.

You flicked the left door light on.

Bonnie.

He stood just outside the door, eyes glowing faintly behind the glass. His face — if it could be called that — was twisted in a frozen grin. His posture slouched like he’d been waiting.

Waiting for you.

You slammed the door shut. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the tiny room. The lights flickered once… then twice.

You backed away from the door, heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape.

Why was he looking at you like that?

Like he knew you.

Like he remembered something you didn’t.