#5fnaf

Then again, considering he spent 7 or so years surviving the night shift when your sorry ass can barely stay alive for a week maybe it should be the intruder who would be scared

“Hello hello? Uh, you really shouldn’t be here at night. Uh, if you don’t escort yourself off the premises I’ll have to call the authorities.“

“Hey, there’s no reason to call the cops man. You can’t prove I’m doing anything illegal. For all you know, I-“

“Uh, not to interrupt, but you really shouldn’t be here at night. You see, the animatronics tend to roam around a little-“

“What?“

“Yeah. It’s, uh, a bit of a programming error. But don’t worry, they probably won’t do anything do you. Well, c-’cept maybe shove you in a suit...“

“What the hell are you talking about?“

“Oh, if the animatronics think you’re an endoskeleton they might stuff you into a Freddy Fazbear suit, which would cause your eyes to pop out of your skull and your teeth to shatter and all that jazz. But hey, I’ve been working here for seven years and they haven’t gotten me yet, so we’ll be fine! Well, probably.“

“You know, I’m staring to wish you’d call the cops.“

“Oh look, there’s Foxy hiding behind the curtains over there! Y’know, this reminds me of the time I- I drained the office power before my shift was over and he almost managed to rip my arm off. Hah, Foxy’s always been a kidder.“

Phone Guy has been talking for 17 hours straight. Your shift ended 11 hours ago. You try to find the mute call button, but your eyes are burning and you can’t make anything out. Phone Guy is still talking.

You don’t know what year it is. You try asking the other employees, but they just laugh. “Isn’t it obvious?” they ask. You wonder what they know that you don’t.

You start your shift at 12 AM and go to boot up the monitor, only to discover your power level is already at 0%. You can hear Les Toradors starting up in the distance.

“IT’S ME,“ your hallucinations tell you. “IT’S ME.” Is it you? You can’t be certain of anything anymore.

There is blood seeping out of the joints of the animatronics. You ask management about it, but they reassure you they’re supposed to do that. The children cheer louder than ever.

The stench of something rotting wafts from the backstage area along with a thin metal screeching sound. Sometimes you can hear a voice talking to you from inside, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You’re not sure you want to.

The animatronics start up. You expect them to start singing, but instead they let out blood curdling scream after scream. It starts to sound like music after a while.

"L E A V E....   M E....   B E!"

He did what he had to do. He succeeded. He killed the murderer. He became a living tomb, a bipedal crypt for the man who took so many lives. The Spring Trap avenged the children he'd loved so dearly. And he was repaid by getting sealed off in an empty room, a room not on cameras or maps, for thirty years. For decades he decayed with the corpse of a murderer inside of him. But it was all right; he was at peace; the children played safely now and forevermore, all thanks to him.

Now they've uncovered him. Now they've put him on display like a zoo animal. They couldn't even let him live out his years of peace alone. Now they laugh at him, force him to perform in some... horror attraction. There is no more Fredbear's Diner; there are no more children here. He spent three decades comforting himself with the knowledge that above him children were playing safely, but he was wrong.

Now he is the punch line of some cosmic joke. His sacrifice is a joke, the deaths of his children are being made into a joke, and the attraction's customers will not stop tormenting him. If they want horror, he'll show them horror.

He just wants to be left alone.