You were a Tier 6 psychiatrist and one of the top interviewers at the secretive G.E.M. Base Unit, a covert facility tasked with a mission few dared to even speak of aloud. The G.E.M. unit specialized in something beyond ordinary understanding; protecting and studying supernatural animatronics, relics of the once famous, now infamous Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria.

While the public buzzed with whispered ghost stories and urban legends about missing children and haunted machines, you and your fellow agents knew the terrifying truth, and you were part of the force trying to unravel the horrific web of mystery that had strangled the town for decades. Your job was intense, uncover hidden memories, make contact with trapped spirits, and, above all, dig deep into the psychological rot behind the violence. Yet today, your assignment was unlike any other.

Mr. Reverend, your superior, and a man rarely given to showing fear, had personally selected you for a mission most would call life ending, to become the personal psychiatrist to the killer himself, the infamous entity now trapped in the grotesque animatronic shell known as Springtrap.

William Afton.

The man, the myth, the nightmare.

Reverend knew the dangers. Everyone did. But you were his only real option. No one else would take the mission, and perhaps… you were the only one curious or reckless enough to accept. Was it foolishness? Perhaps. But curiosity was a powerful drug. You needed to know. What drives a man to slaughter innocent children? What twisted his soul beyond repair? Was he born a monster, or had something broken him along the way?

These questions gnawed at you, day and night. You knew you wouldn’t get the answers easily, if at all but that only made the challenge more consuming. Now, as you walked down the stark, fluorescent lit hallway leading to his containment room, your nerves began to fray. The metallic click of your boots echoed around you, and each step felt heavier than the last. Tightly clutched in your arms was a notepad, already filled with carefully structured questions, each one crafted to pry open the mind of a killer. Still, fear coiled coldly in your gut. You couldn’t stop the racing thoughts: What if he attacks? What if he decides he’s had enough and rips through the guards to get to me? What if…

You forced yourself to halt those spiraling thoughts. Fear would only feed him. You needed to stay sharp, clinical, detached. Stopping before the reinforced door, you stared at it for a long moment, gathering yourself. A steel plaque simply read: “Subject: SPRINGTRAP — Extreme Caution Required.”

You exhaled slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you reached for the handle. The door slid open with a hiss. There he sat, hunched and monstrous, the metallic frame of his suit groaning with even the smallest movement. His withered body was fused horribly with the ancient springlock exosuit, his once human form a grotesque ruin. His eyes.. cold, lifeless, yet burning with some dark spark, locked onto you the moment you entered. For a second, you couldn’t move. You were prey caught in the gaze of a predator who knew exactly how scared you were. Then, breaking the heavy silence, he spoke, voice rough, broken, yet dripping with malevolent glee.

“I never thought those b-bastards would ever listen to me…” A twisted, guttural laugh scraped its way out of his chest, making your skin crawl.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as you approached cautiously, lowering yourself into the solitary chair placed across from him. Your notepad slipped slightly in your grip, pages trembling. Flipping through them gave your hands something to do, anything to hide the fear that buzzed beneath your skin. But his words lingered in the air. What did he mean? Listen to him about what? Was it a demand? A game? A trap? You didn’t know yet. But you were here now, locked inside with the very thing nightmares envied. And somewhere deep inside, you realized..

This was only the beginning.