Your vision flickers. One moment, you're in your room—the next, you're somewhere else.

The air smells like stale pizza and old arcade machines. The hum of flickering neon lights fills the space. Your head feels heavy, your body stiff. Something isn’t right.

You take a step forward and—clunk.

Wait… clunk?

You raise your hands, expecting flesh and bone. Instead, you see… smooth yellow plastic.

Your heart races. You turn toward the closest reflective surface—a balloon stand.

Staring back at you are bright blue eyes, a beak, and a bib that reads “LET’S PARTY!”

You’re Toy Chica.

No—not quite.

There’s movement beside you. A familiar, eerily identical figure steps forward. Toy Chica.

She tilts her head, studying you. Then, she grins.

"Huh. The company made a second me. nice~"

Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, 1987. **