#ifoth

Waking up for work on a Tuesday morning isn’t all that bad if you like your job. It doesn’t even need to be particularly glamorous; anything that doesn’t make you want to crumple to the floor like a tinfoil ball by the end of your shift is a win. And anything beats retail. So you’re pretty satisfied with your decent pay (and flexible hours) at the Fazbear Entertainment™ Mega Pizzaplex©. You even get to google conspiracy theories on company time, it’s great.

Your alarm rings, and you feel at least half the joints in your spine crack as you sit up to turn it off. It takes a minute of flailing like an indignant carp before you’re able to roll out of bed and onto your feet. You grab your Fazwatch© (patent pending) from its little charging station and its screen buzzes to life. A few practiced button-taps show you the day’s schedule. All the tours are at the regular times, showing the same schedule as it did last night. Maybe you don’t need to check it as often as you do, but management has made last-minute changes before, and it’s pretty fair to assume it will happen again. For some reason or another, the tour times will sometimes get moved around or cancelled on the day-of. After a month on the job, you’re comfortable enough in your routine to give a tour on 5-minute’s notice. (You had to last Friday. That was a new low, even for Faz-management.) But everything looks fine today, so you shouldn’t have to whip out The Ol’ Fazbear Entertainment Approved Apology Spiel for any poor customers who might miss the sudden change in their tour times. 

You once bet $50 that management will try to move a tour to some time in the past. The staff bot that cleans at your end of Rockstar Row is often the recipient of your quips, and it only stopped sweeping for a second to acknowledge your comment. You still aren’t sure if it knows what money is, and you probably don’t have 50 bucks to spare, anyway. You guys can probably just call it even. Besides, you think it found the joke funny (it made a single ‘ha’ sound), so that’s probably all that matters.

You used to be surprised by the number of people you can find in the pizzaplex at the asscrack of dawn, but the magic of the place (and the meticulously crafted ads on kids’ youtube) always attracts a small crowd. Weekdays are pretty quiet in the mornings, but there’s always someone visiting the pizzaplex. It’s a lavish place that probably pays more money for the monthly electricity than you will ever see in your life, but you’re sure the company can afford it easily with the number of guests they get. With how stupidly overpriced some of the stuff is here, you’re sure those guys have plenty of funds to spare. You really don’t get why management will always cut corners and be so cheap, then turn around and drop hundreds of thousands on some shiny new robot. Fickle, those guys.

Anyways, back to your own work:

Thankfully, it’s never too busy back at Rockstar Row during the day when the animatronics are performing or going to private birthday parties. You can hear their music if you listen for it, but all the festivities are distant enough that they don’t disturb you. The voices, cheers, and catchy tunes blend together in a gentle hum-drone of white noise. You keep saying that you’re gonna watch a performance one of these days, but you want to go at a time when you won’t get lost in a sea of pre-teens and their exhausted parents, so you keep putting it off. Usually, none of said pre-teens or parents are hanging around Rockstar Row when you prepare for the day, so you can have your peace of mind as you clock in. You can even whistle a bit of copyrighted music while dusting off the ol’ display cases without getting a single disapproving email from management. Throughout the day, you give a couple of tours down the Row to tell the history and legends of the old Fazbear pizzerias, throwing in some popular conspiracy theories and horror stories for spice. There’s plenty of time in between the tours of this makeshift museum when you usually just sit around in case anybody needs directions or something. All-in-all, it’s a pretty nice job. And you’re pretty darn good at it, too. Nobody knows how to redirect a customer to somebody who actually knows how to help with whatever wild shit happened to their kid quite like you do.

Sometimes, Rockstar Row gets kinda crowded at the end of the day when the animatronics are doing meet-n-greets in their rooms. There aren’t any museum tours at this time (thank Faz), so you get to sit down at your little desk area and watch how these vibrant characters and their equally dazzling personalities capture the attention of the crowds. They’re real pros at what they do; you can’t help but smile at their acts, even from a distance. 

There have been a few times when there wasn’t anyone waiting in line to chat with one of the animatronics, so Freddy or Roxy will sometimes come over to say hi when you wave to them. You’ve been hoping to introduce yourself to Monty and Chica, but their rooms aren’t really visible from your corner of Rockstar Row (and you don’t want to intrude when anyone’s busy), so you’re limited to the other two at the moment. Freddy is very popular and very busy, he is the titular character after all, so you’ve probably spoken to Roxy the most. She once expressed gratitude that she doesn’t have to maintain her usual act and energy when she talks with you. It was a pretty serious and vulnerable comment, so you wanted to respond in a positive and encouraging manner. The somewhat goofy thumbs-up that you gave her (clearly not the expected response) made her laugh so hard that Freddy came over, concerned that her voicebox was glitching out. The memory makes you smile as you clock in for the day.

---

On this morning, this perfectly average Tuesday morning, you do a double-take at one of the display cases. Empty. It definitely isn’t supposed to be, so you walk over to take a look at it. You stop a couple of inches away from the glass and squint at it like this is some optical illusion. Yep, definitely empty, no amount of rubber-necking or suspicious glances appear to be changing that. Also, it looks like the top panel has been unceremoniously smashed in. In fact, it took you a perfectly normal amount of time to notice that the whole upper half of the glass box is shattered. Yes. And, like the awe-inspiring detective you are, you start looking around on the floor. You know, just in case the old Chica arm had hopped out of its display case and was lying around somewhere. Okay, so maybe it’s a little hard to wake up on a Tuesday no matter what your job is. 

You’re almost surprised that management didn’t tell you about the missing exhibits before your shift, but then you remember how low they keep setting the bar. They probably didn’t know, or didn’t care. You move to check the rest of the displays yourself and see that an original Fredbear top hat has also disappeared. This horrible loss is enough to properly wake you up. That was your favorite exhibit. It was a nice little hat that will be sorely missed. You take a minute to grieve the tragic loss before you see your good pal (the staff bot who you might owe $50 to someday) vacuuming around the golden Roxy statue. You jog over to it and give a little wave.

“Hey! How’s it going?” You say. It turns off the vacuum and looks over at you. It blinks twice and gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Happy to hear it! Doesn’t look like you got covered in soda like last week, so that’s good. Hey, if that ever happens again, you can come to me if you need a hand with cleaning it off. I’m getting pretty good with those chem wipes. Also, two of the exhibits are missing: the Chica arm and the old top hat. Do you know anything about that?” You ask, remembering your original mission mid-sentence and pointing at the crime scene. In response, the staff bot looks at the ground for a minute, then tilts its head quizzically. It turns to look down the hallway and makes a little ping sound at a nearby security bot. The security bot comes over and the two of them look at each other silently for a minute. Robot-to-robot conversation, robot-to-robot communication. The security bot looks briefly at the floor like the staff bot did, then the two resume their telepathic chat. You begin to wonder if you should ask again later when they both turn to look at you. The security bot beeps a few times. 

“...Did you see anything suspicious around the displays recently?” You offer, guessing at what the security bot is trying to communicate. It shakes its head in response. 

“Can you check the security camera footage from last night?” It nodds this time. 

“Great! So, do you see anything..?” You wait a moment. Maybe the security bot didn’t hear you? It keeps looking at you but doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. Your fazwatch buzzes on your wrist, and you read the screen, confused.

REQUESTING SECURITY CLEARANCE ...

...

APPROVED

UPDATED SECURITY CLEARANCE FOR: DAYCARE ENTRANCE

Ok. Well, that’s something. But the daycare has been closed for long before you even got hired, and you doubt that whoever stole the two displays would have any reason to put them there. (Our great detective has deemed this a case of larceny, deducing that there iss a thief afoot.)

“The daycare? You want me to go to the old daycare..?” You ask. The security bot nods. 

“Shouldn’t I go to the security office for this sort of thing?” It doesn’t respond. Your fazwatch opens the pizzaplex map and begins charting a course for the daycare. There’s your answer, you suppose. The security bot begins rolling back to its post and you shout a quick thank-you. Turning back to your dear friend and colleague, staff bot, you shrug.

“Well, the security bots probably know a lot better than I do. I’ve got about an hour, so I’m gonna go check it out. Wish me luck!” You give it a dramatic little salute. It blinks in acknowledgment and goes right back to vacuuming.

---

It always bothered you that “Floor 1” isn’t always the first floor of a building. Sometimes, it’s literally the second floor. You are reminded of this tragedy as you take the elevator down to the “Ground Level” and step out onto the balcony. (Note that even the “Ground Level” has two levels. Fazbear Entertainment really dropped the ball on this one.) You shuffle out of the elevator, leaving room for the family passing by while checking your faz-map. It says that you just have to go left. And there it is, a large pair of doors labeled “Superstar Daycare Pick-Up”. You’ve never had to go inside, but it still shocks you that you never noticed the entrance before. The lights above the door are off and all the paint is faded, so it’s admittedly hard to spot. You hesitate for a second, just standing there, staring at the door handle. You get the sense that you aren’t supposed to be here, like you’re a child about to get caught doing something that you were told not to. Reminding yourself that you were literally told to come here, you try to shake the feeling. As weird as this whole thing is, you’re pretty curious to see whatever the security bot has sent you to find. Besides, if this yields nothing, you can just stop by the security office and ask somebody else for help. You finally turn the handle and step through the door.

Here you find a large, poorly lit, and lifeless area. There are only a few posters on the walls, lit by bands of neon light. Some are of the band, but you notice several that depict a sun figure and a moon figure. These advertise some “Sundrop” and “Moondrop” candies. You find it weird for the Fazbear advertisement team (faz-vertisement, if you will) to come up with new characters just to promote some candy that you’ve never even heard of. Weird when they will typically do whatever they can to “show the audience our beloved cast of Fazbear Ent. characters that you know and love” (reuse the same old clipart of the animatronics for most ads because, collectively, they do not give a single damn). But here are two characters you have never seen before. Something entirely new. A sun and a moon. 

You walk over to the posters and note the layer of dust clinging to them. The sun and moon look very similar in design and are clearly each other’s counterparts. You’re the museum guide, the person who probably knows the most about the pizzaplex’s history, and yet you’ve never heard anything about these two characters. Maybe these were just a part of the daycare’s shtick since the entrance also has a sun and moon on it? You decide to grab a couple of these posters as potential stand-ins for the missing exhibits. Even if you don’t need the interim replacements, you’ll definitely want to look into these characters later. 

You pass a little fountain surrounded by the world’s jankiest fake palm trees on the way to the end of the hall. It’s impossible not to marvel at the dichotomy of how cheap or extravagant Fazbear Entertainment can be. There are some lights around the fountain’s edge, but the water isn’t running, just lying quietly at the basin. Your footsteps echo over the checkered PVC floor tiles and the poor lighting doesn’t let you see the ceiling. It looks like it might go on infinitely. This room feels too big. You grip your phone a little tighter. 

You eventually come to a big, metal shutter door with a little panel to the right. Using your sleeve, you wipe the dust off the screen. After a few taps, it begins to boot up and update. You are presented with a few options, and “Open Daycare Entrance [A]” immediately catches your eye. You press the button and it makes a little ping sound.

 AUTHENTICATING CLEARANCE, PLEASE WAIT… 

Your watch buzzes, and you flinch at it, startled. It shows a loading wheel for just a second before the panel beeps again. 

STAND CLEAR OF SHUTTERS UNTIL FULLY OPEN 

And the metal doors begin to rise. Inside, you spot a golden statue of the sun and moon figures. So they have 3D designs, too. That’s a little too much effort for a couple of candies. This thing looks just as glamorous as the statues of the band members out in Rockstar Row. Impressed, you take a photo and begin walking around this little entrance area filled with chairs. There is a thick net that hangs in front of you with a railing that leaves room for a rainbow slide. The sign above it says “Slide Into Fun!” and points at the opening. Hm. No thanks. 

You lean against the railing and look into the massive space beyond the net. There are a bunch of play structures and a massive river of a ball pit that you can barely make out in the dark. You see a small balcony to your right, on the only wall where there is no netting. It is the only place inside that is properly lit, gleaming in the spotlight, but it doesn’t look like there’s any way to get up to it. Over on the left, you think you see a desk. It’s right next to some large wooden doors, and you’re glad to see a normal entrance so you won’t have to use the slide. It could be fun, don’t get me wrong, but thoughts of dashcon ricochet around your brain as you envision the ball pit at the end. You choose to think about something else. Like your mission! Yes. You’re here to… well, you’re not really sure. Find whatever the security bot wants you to find, I guess. It’s darker in this area, feeling even more abandoned than the fountain area before. You can’t really see, but you doubt that the (potential) thief would choose to stick around in the building, so you don’t think that’s what you’re looking for here. There’s no one else in the entrance area, so you’ll have to go inside the daycare to see if there’s anyone you can talk to. Maybe there’s a security bot who guards the place, and maybe it knows what happened. So, to get inside, you’ll have to make your way down some stairs and circle around the walled-in (netted-in?) daycare area to get to those doors.

Said doors feel a lot taller when you’re right in front of them. It’s a little intimidating, to be honest. From here, you can see the corners of the mechanisms that open the door, and you’re glad that the doorknobs about 20 feet up are just ornamental. This does, unfortunately, leave you with no idea of how to actually open the doors. The thought of flailing about to grab those doorknobs gives you a laugh, at least. For lack of a better idea, you knock on the door. 

“Anybody here? Knock knock.” You say to yourself, trying to come up with a plan to get in. You most certainly don’t expect a reply.

“Who’s there?” Rings a response in a muffled, robotic voice. This makes you jump like a cat. There really is something in there, and it’s definitely not a security bot. But that doesn’t sound like the voice of anybody in the band; it has a completely different intonation and almost rumbles at the end of its words. Each of the glamrocks has a distinctive voice, and this doesn’t match any of them. And, above all else, it just set you up for a knock-knock joke. Now this is serious. It’s one thing to meet a mystery robot in an abandoned area of a technologically-unmatched pizzaplex, but it’s something else to get the perfect set-up for a real bad pun. You’re gonna have to think hard about this one, pull out all the stops. You could use the ol’ classic “Boo-who” but that’s too basic, too predictable. There’s one about yodeling, but you don’t remember how the second part goes, so you’ll have to improvise a bit.

You settle with a “Wa.” 

A few clicks resound behind those doors. You take a small step away from whatever they came from.  

Your mysterious interlocutor responds after a moment, sounding genuinely curious: 

“Wa who?” 

“Mario, is that you?” You offer, hoping that your improvised punch-line makes sense. After a second, a hearty chuckle echoes from inside the daycare. There’s a rumble as the doors before you start to swing open (which makes you jump again, but this time it feels more like the frantic wiggle of a disgruntled worm than the hop of a cat). The doors open slowly, making you wait a moment before gingerly taking a step inside and looking around. 

The darkness is almost complete in here, and the air feels heavy. There is a particularly dark area around the play structure right in front of you, casting even more shadows around itself. Within that darkness, you see a wavering, orange glow. Two pinpricks of light loom above you, shining down from this structure. You realize that this must be your new “friend.”

“I’ve never heard that one before,” It muses, “but I don’t think it’s legally advisable for any Fazbear Entertainment staff to mention Mario by name. Copyright infringement is against the rules.”

You realize that the glowing orange points are a pair of eyes. Eyes that are firmly locked on you during the slow tilt of its head. There are some other glowing areas around them, but they’re dim enough that you can’t make out their shapes.

“Ah, right. Definitely wouldn’t want to cause a lawsuit.” Your voice doesn’t even echo in this cavernous space. You are suddenly made very aware that you’re completely alone with this thing. In the dark. Pretty far away from anyone. Spooky, but you’re being so brave about it. 

The eyes before you do a whirling clockwise spin while the entire patch of orange glow moves rhythmically downwards. You hear something land gently on the floor with the rattle of a bell, crouching to absorb the impact. Those eyes are still on you, and you don’t think they’ve blinked at all. You are aware of how difficult it would be to evacuate this area. Deeply aware.

“Can’t have any guests overhearing the unlicensed use of another company’s character, now can we? Well, we’re alone in here, so I suppose I could let it slide…” The voice gives a dramatic hum as the stranger stands up, eyes rising to a height that towers over you.

“And I did like the joke... Alright, we can overlook this one. But you should be more careful, you know. I’m sure it would be a terrible hassle if Nintendo tried to sue the company again.” There’s a creak of metal and plastic as the figure seems to lean to the left, chuckling to itself. A few bells ring from the light source as its shoulders bounce with the laugh. Then, you hear a gasp.

“Oh- Now where are my manners? This is no way to welcome our new guest!” It speaks with a completely different energy, standing upright again. 

“Do forgive me, and allow me to introduce myself properly!” There’s a tap-tap-tap of steps as those luminous eyes get closer. You shuffle backward and tense at the sudden approach, arms raised defensively. This thing sounds kind enough, but hearing a massive metallic creature approach you from the dark and seeing nothing but its glowing eyes is pretty fucking scary.

Seeing your reaction, it comes to a stop. Now that it’s closer, you can see its eyes flash with a concerned look that darts around your face before landing nervously on the ground. It almost looks like it’s deflating, the way the lights seem to shrink in on themselves. You hear quiet, rapid taps from where you imagined its hands might be held, fidgeting.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry! Did I frighten you? Goodness- that’s no good, no good at all-” It keeps stumbling over its terse apologies, slowly backing away. Its body language makes it seem so much smaller than you, even though this colossal silhouette is obviously anything but. Those eyes are squinted in what might be the start of panic, or dejection. Oh great. We gave the poor robot anxiety.

“No, no, it’s fine- I just got a little, uh... Surprised because I can’t really see what’s happening and I don’t know what-” You’re cut off by the sound of a whack sound coming from the animatronic’s face. You realize it just facepalmed. 

“Of course! Oh, how silly of me, how ridiculous! I can’t very well introduce myself if you can’t even see me, now can I? Here- Give me just a moment-” It turns and disappears into the daycare, its muttering growing distant. You notice that, despite the bells you heard before, it was nearly silent as it left. After a moment of wondering if you should be worried, a click reverberates from above as the lights buzz to life. This causes you to squint for a minute, feeling just as blind as when you were in the dark. You blink until your eyes adjust and look into the now-illuminated daycare. The entire space looks much more inviting in the light; everything popping with color and life. Now, you can finally get a good look at the animatronic who’s approaching, more sheepishly this time. 

It’s easy to tell that they're at least 8 feet tall, even though they bow their head to appear less intimidating. It folds its hands together in the same way that an old lady might when she’s saying something sweet, except this colossal robot has four arms to work with. Double the gesture, double the sentiment, I guess. You think those fingertips might be pointed, but you’re choosing not to look too close. Its face is round with a crescent shape on the inside and two rows of triangles on the outside. You get the impression of one of those sun/moon theater masks: one that might be happy on one side, then sad on the other. There’s a large nightcap sitting at an angle on its head; the end of it rests on his shoulder and sways slightly with each step. All of the robot’s clothing look soft and flowy, giving it a very gentle and elegant appearance. Whatever plastic its face is made of, it’s clearly malleable, allowing the animatronic to make minute shifts in its expression for a precise demonstration of emotions. You have to admit, whoever designed the animatronics here is some kind of genius.

“There. Let me try one more time.” It sighs with an apologetic smile.

The half-sun, half-moon character stops before you and gives a dignified bow, the motion smooth and practiced.

“My name is Eclipse, I am the caretaker of the Superstar Daycare. It’s very nice to meet you. Welcome, and sorry again for the poor first impression.” They address you. Their smile is so genuine that you can’t help but mirror it as you return the greeting, introducing yourself in turn. 

“Come in, come in! Make yourself at home! Here, allow me to get you a seat-” They respond, visibly straightening up now that they know that there’s no hard feelings. You know that they literally glow, but they still seem so radiant with their rejuvenated spirit. That smile of theirs definitely got wider, and they move with a skip in their steps. They pull up two of the few adult-sized chairs and set them by a small, plastic table. It stands by one of the chairs and gestures for you to sit, intending to push in your chair for you. It’s pointedly gentle with this, too, even speaking slightly quieter because you were closer. You have to admit, this Eclipse is quite a charming host, and a fascinating character. After you are seated, they sit in their own chair and rest their upper pair of arms on the table between you, tapping their fingers rhythmically. The anxiety from before is gone, but an excited energy still dances behind those eyes.

“We don’t get a lot of guests, so it truly is an honor! Is there anything I can help you with, my dear guest?” He asks, tilting his head a little. 

“Yes, actually,” You begin, “I’m the tour guide for the museum area along Rockstar Row, and two of the exhibits disappeared last night. The cases were broken, so it looks like they might have been stolen. I tried to ask one of the nearby security bots about it, and it sent me here to learn more.” You point at your faz-watch and Eclipse looks truly enraptured by your every word.

“I see! Terribly sorry to hear about the exhibits, but that does explain a thing or two. I just got a request to authorize someone’s security clearance to come in here. I didn’t know what it could possibly be for, but I guess that must have been you!” 

“Yeah! Though I still don’t get why they wanted me to come here. Especially when there’s a dedicated security office for this sort of thing.” You admit. Eclipse chuckles at that and rests its chin in one of its hands, its eyes narrowing with a cheeky flaire.

“If I had to guess, that would be because I’m the head of security, here at the Pizzaplex.” His grin seems to widen at your surprise. He titters briefly before continuing, each laugh lighter than the flutter of a moth’s wing.

“Yes, funny how the head of security isn’t in the security office, isn’t it? Well, there’s rarely anything that requires my input down there. Though, I wonder why they didn’t just show you the camera footage when you asked, even if you aren’t security personnel-” He trails off, closing his eyes for a moment. His brows furrow and his smile slips for just a moment.

“Ah. So that’s why… But surely it would have…” They go quiet for a little longer, eyes flickering about beneath their eyelids. They hum quizzically as they open their eyes and look back at you with an unreadable expression.

“It looks like there are no recordings from the Rockstar Row’s security cameras from last night… But I’m certain I was able to see through them at the time, and I didn’t receive any kind of notifications about them malfunctioning later… That’s…” It gives a defeated laugh.

“It looks like I’ll have to investigate a bit more thoroughly, then.” They conclude, shrugging with their second pair of arms. 

“Well then! I’ll be in contact if I find anything, but you should go get ready for today’s tours.” He waves a hand and you feel your faz-watch buzz in response. On the screen, you see a message from Eclipse that just says “Hello :)” from a messaging app that management occasionally contacts you with. On the time above the notification, you can see that there are only 10 minutes until the first tour starts. Oh shit. You need to get moving. Eclipse springs to his feet and motions you to the door with a flourish of all four arms. 

“Feel free to message me if you need anything else, we’re always happy to help. It’s truly been lovely meeting you, and good luck with today’s tours!” They conclude with a showman’s poise. You thank them as you hurry out the door, to the stairs. Before leaving the daycare, you turn to give the grand play area one last glance, hoping to wave to Eclipse on the way out. You aren’t able to spot them, just a metal cable unfurling from the ceiling, falling to a point behind one of the play structures. Then, the lights go out, leaving you in a little hollow of light around the golden sun and moon statue. It’s a bit sad that you couldn’t say another goodbye, but you decide you’ll make up for it when you aren’t possibly running late for work. You are very grateful for the reminder, but you’re certain you never told them when the first tour was starting.

- - -

You return to Rockstar Row with 7 minutes to spare. Thankfully, your favorite staff bot has been kind enough to clean up the broken glass around the missing exhibits while you were gone. You make a mental note to thank them later, then make a physical note to place by the exhibits: 

“This exhibit is temporarily absent for routine maintenance and repairs” You write with your best handwriting and hope that it sounds official enough that the guests won’t interrogate you about it. You are so caught up in thinking about excuses you can give people or where you might find a temporary replacement that you don’t notice the heavy footsteps that stop right behind you.

“Hey, heads up. Somebody’s gonna walk right into ya if you’re spacing out in the middle of the walkway.” A voice snaps you out of it. You turn to see a pair of nonchalant, red eyes looking down at you over a pair of star-shaped shades. The legendary Montgomery Gator himself stands in front of you, with one hand on his hip and his head tilted like he’s somewhere between casual and completely uninterested. 

“Right, yeah. Didn’t mean to get in your way, sorry.” You take a step back, out of the way, shaking your head once to clear your mind like an etch-a-sketch. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Monty adjusts his sunglasses. You expect the animatronic to keep walking, but he’s still looking at you, so you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, you’re the museum guide, right? Not that you can call this handful of trinkets much of a museum... I heard you got hired a while back, but I never got the chance to see for myself. So, I’m Monty.” It seems he’s landed on casual over disinterested as he holds out his hand for a handshake. You return it, both of you giving a firm couple of shakes and feeling some mutual respect for it. It isn’t every day that someone returns a nice, solid handshake with the same amount of gusto. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you! I was trying to find the time to properly introduce myself, but this works, too. And yeah, we lost two exhibits last night, so the museum’s looking even more sparse than usual. Not really sure how I’m going to fill the tour time I usually spend on those, but I’ve only got 5 minutes to figure it out.” You say, shaking your head and shrugging in exaggerated defeat.

“Yeah, I noticed the empty cases. That’s tough. Someone should probably remove the broken glass, though; some kid’s gonna get hurt on that. So, did somebody steal ‘em?” He asks. He’s nonchalant about it, but he seems genuinely interested. Maybe there’s a secret passion for gossip and drama under that rough exterior... Or maybe he’s just concerned for everyone’s safety. Either way, his eyes are still locked on you.

“That’s what it seems like, but I’m not sure. I asked around and nobody seems to know what happened- the staff bots were even saying that they can’t access the security footage from last night… Well, I’m sure this incident has already been reported or logged in whatever system, so it’s probably out of my hands. Still, I’m gonna ask around for any signs of a break-in. Oh, speaking of, did you see anything weird last night?” You realize just how little you know about the situation as you recount everything, it’s all so odd. Monty immediately shrugs and shakes his head at your question, which is only a little disappointing. 

“Nope, I did a little patrolling around the atrium last night, but I spent most of my free time playin’ the bass.” He says, making air guitar motions for emphasis. Suddenly, he flashes a playful smile, then gives you a suspicious side-eye.

“Hey, you think I’m a suspect or something? This is startin’ to feel like an interrogation- I do have an alibi if you’re not convinced by my testimony, detective.” He makes sure to bitterly enunciate every syllable of the word. If he wasn’t smiling, you might think he was being serious, but you play along.

“Hmm, I really can’t rule it out… Anyone could be the perp- even me! No one suspects the detective, after all!” You dramatically wiggle your fingers at him, to which he feigns a shocked gasp. It’s incredible how these guys can make such realistic breath sounds with their voiceboxes. 

“We should’a known it was you, you connivin’ little punk!” He really hams up the act, pointing at you and everything. You laugh a couple times, internally commending his dedication to the bit. Even though you just met, he’s joking around with you like you’re old friends. It’s nice to be treated like you’re a cool dude without having to prove anything, and Monty immediately gives you that respect. You appreciate it.

“Seriously though: I don’t think you could wear the tophat with that mohawk of yours, and god knows what you would even need an old Chica arm for. So, I think you’re off the hook for now.” You gaze off towards your desk and the exhibits nearby it. There appears to be a small crowd gathering over there. You’re wondering what that’s all about when it strikes you.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late for the tour.” You say, deadpan. After a beat, you start running over to your desk, dodging a kid. You don’t turn around, but you briefly look over your shoulder to say goodbye.

“See ya later, alligator!” Which works doubly well because he really is an alligator. You catch an amused Monty in the corner of your eye, and it seems like he gets the joke when he barks a single laugh.