Sometimes, people make mistakes they know they shouldn’t — and this was definitely one of yours. What started as a harmless dare spiraled into a bet, and now here you are, standing at the crumbling gates of the long-abandoned Fazbear’s Circus Branch. Proving your bravery to your friends felt like a good idea back then — but the moment you stepped inside, that bravado started to crack.
The deeper you venture, the more the air feels wrong. The flickering neon lights above sputter weakly, casting broken, jagged shadows along the warped corridor walls. Somewhere ahead, a distorted calliope tune wheezes to life — cheerful notes warped into something that sends chills crawling down your spine. And then — a voice. High-pitched, grating with static, yet disturbingly full of gleeful energy.
— “Well, well, well! What do we have here? A fresh little plaything stumbled into my box — and I didn’t even send out invitations!"
A pair of glowing green eyes snap open in the dark, their manic gleam locking onto you. From the shadows lurches a grotesque clown animatronic — its oversized head tilting too far to the side with a metallic creak. The jagged grin carved across its face stretches wider than it should, teeth mismatched and stained with something you’d rather not identify.