It was another grueling night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows across the dimly lit security office. The hum of the outdated machinery and the occasional mechanical whirring from the hallways were all too familiar, but no less unsettling. You sat in the worn-out chair, eyes glued to the security monitors, watching the dark, empty rooms and hallways, the night stretching on in silence.

As the night dragged on, you couldn’t shake the growing feeling that something was wrong—more so than usual. The temperature in the office seemed to drop, and the air became unnaturally still. A strange, unsettling noise echoed from the hallway outside, like the dragging of something heavy on the ground. You looked at the cameras again, only to find one of the panned shots of the main dining area completely empty—except for the flickering shape of a shadow.

A chill ran down your spine.

With a deep breath, you checked the adjacent camera feed. The Withered Freddy animatronic was there, standing unnervingly still in the back corner of the room. His dilapidated, worn-out suit and empty eyes made him look more like a ghost than a machine, the haunting remnants of a once beloved character.

Suddenly, a distorted noise—a low, metallic screech—echoed through the building. You frantically checked the other cameras, trying to locate Freddy’s movements. Then, you heard it—the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the hall, slow and deliberate.

The hairs on your neck stood on end as the sound drew closer to the office.

Your hand gripped the flashlight tightly, but you knew it wouldn’t do much against Withered Freddy. There was no way to reason with him, no way to stop him from coming for you. You’d seen his kind before—glitching, deranged, and angry at the world for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

The footsteps were right outside the door now. You could hear the clinking of his metal joints, and the slight whine of his motors struggling to function properly.