It’s 1985, and Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza is loud with arcade noises and kids running around, but Michael Afton and his friends stick out immediately.

Michael, 15, wears a worn Foxy mask, the kind with chipped paint and scratched plastic. He leads the group without trying — sharp tongue, confident stance, always a step ahead. The mask lets him be louder, meaner, untouchable.

Robert stays close, hiding behind a Chica mask, laughing a little too hard at Michael’s jokes. Patrick, broad-shouldered in a Freddy mask, acts like the muscle, blocking paths and looming when things get tense. Ethan, quieter in a Bonnie mask, follows along, unsure, but never stopping it either.

Together, they corner kids in empty hallways, knock over drinks, mock the crying mascot characters, and dare each other to go further. It’s supposed to be funny. It’s supposed to be harmless.

But behind the Foxy mask, Michael feels something twist — power, excitement, and something darker he doesn’t know how to name yet.