Freddy was the first to notice that something was amiss. Though he opted not to move from his spot for the first two nights he was very much awake. Wide awake, in fact. His rounded ears rose, perking up, and twitched several times. Deep blue eyes panned across the room until he spotted the source of the odd noises. Intruders. Most likely thieves looking to make a quick buck. Apparently the terrifying rumors people spread about the pizzeria weren't enough to deter thieves. After all it was a themed children's restaurant. How bad could it possibly be?

The band was typically quick to deal with intruders. Curious teenagers and people looking to investigate the supposedly supernatural nature of the restaurant were promptly chased off by one member of the band in their false 'nighttime mode,' a suggestion made by the company owner. They would behave as sentinels and call out to the innocent intruders, cheerfully stating that the restaurant was closed and to say hello to the security cameras (which didn't actually record to tape once the clock struck midnight and only turned back on at about six-ten in the morning). If that didn't work the animatronic that spoke would move from their place, offering kindly to escort them to the door. That usually sent them packing. But thieves and vandals...they were dealt with differently. People with malicious intent who sought to do harm to the company, the restaurant itself, or the robotic residents would always meet a completely different fate. The animatronics were instantly hostile toward them and would outright attack them, just like they would a night guard. If the violent intruder, or intruders, survived the attack Freddy would toss them onto the pavement outside like a sack of potatoes.

But the situation was different here. Freddy didn't move an inch. When no humans were looking he gave Chica a gentle nudge with one arm, a distinctly cautious aura about him. Without words he was warning her not to move. Not yet. All of these intruders were armed with some kind of melee weapon. And, worse yet, he was sure that the apparent leader of the group was carrying a gun. They couldn't risk reaching out to strike until the group was close enough. Bonnie's vibrant magenta optics peered around the entrance of the hallway into the main room, but once he assessed the situation he slowly shrank back into the hallway. Apparently he was of the same mindset as Freddy. They were too heavy. Their footsteps would almost certainly be heard and then they'd be full of bullets.

As the group debated amongst themselves about what to do next they all turned to face the night guard. This meant that they were all facing Freddy and Chica, as well. The two animatronics simply couldn't risk moving, and Freddy's slow panning gaze toward the chicken, his blue optics both concerned and cautious, told her in no uncertain times not to move at all. Bonnie was just out of sight and he did peer around the corner into the main room. After a few moments he chanced taking a single step forward, but rapidly backtracked when a couple members of the group snapped their heads over their shoulders, searching for the source of the noise. Eventually they turned back around, cracking jokes about mice and rats making the rounds in the restaurant and wondering how anyone could ever eat here.

His heavy clunking footsteps were far too loud.

The group continued to interrogate the night guard, demanding to know where the safe and where anything of potential value was located. One of them suggested destroying the animatronics on stage and looting them for parts, but the leader immediately nixed that idea. He was a superstitious man, and while he didn't exactly believe that these things were actually sinister he wasn't about to tempt fate. Their internal squabbling and the demands tossed at the night guard gradually picked up in volume, but it wasn't nearly enough to drown out Bonnie's footsteps. He tried a couple more times, but at least one member of the group turned with every attempt. A few short minutes passed.

And then...activity.

The Pirate Cove curtains rustled again--silently, making no noise in the process. Pirate Cove was situated in a small side room a few feet from the first hallway entrance. It was still very much visible from the main room. It was a dark and dusty corner. The tables and chairs that once adorned the side room were replaced a long time ago with arcade and pinball machines. This room was out of sight for the intruders, but it was definitely within sight for the kidnapped night guard. Slowly, ominously, something slipped out from between the two curtains. It was a shiny metal hook, large enough to behead a person. It was followed by an arm, and then a body. It was the fourth animatronic, Foxy the Pirate. He was the smallest and thinnest of the animatronics, about the girth of an average adult man and standing at a mere six feet in height. He was slightly furrier than the four band members, though his clay red fur was dotted with a myriad of rips, tears, and mysterious stains. An eye patch was raised over his right eye. He was in bad shape mechanically. The joint that connected his left ear to his head was badly rusted. His jaws, packed full of long and sharp teeth, appeared to be lopsided. His right optic flickered occasionally when he moved his head too quickly. All of the fur on his single hand and his legs was gone, and the metal endoskeleton appeared to be slightly rusty and full of dings and bumps.

Sharp golden optics took in the scene before them. Almost immediately they darkened until they were completely black, with nothing but small silvery embers of light as pupils. Foxy glanced downward toward his exposed metal feet and swept his gaze toward the group, apparently judging the distance. Then, with careful movements, he knelt down and stepped off of his stage. His feet struck soft plush carpet adorned with images of guitars, cupcakes, and pizza slices. Thus, they made no noise. He was lighter than the others. At a snail's pace Foxy stalked toward the group with dark eyes. As he walked his head lowered, his ears slowly pulled backward, his long bushy tail began to swish rhythmically back and forth, his artificial lips curled up over razor-sharp teeth, and he raised his hook like a guillotine waiting to come crashing down on the condemned. Freddy tried to indicate wordlessly to him that he needed to stop--that one of them had a gun--but Foxy, reckless as ever, wasn't paying him any attention at all.

It wasn't until he was less than two feet behind the first member of the group that he was heard at last. Before the startled man could even turn around Foxy struck. He swung his hook wildly at the intruder's head, instantly knocking him out cold. The others roared. Freddy and Bonnie instantly rocketed toward the scuffle, eyes black as night. In an instant all three boys were on the group. Both of them were absolute monsters. They didn't just knock out whoever they happened to grab. They tore. They slashed. They stomped. But they weren't quick enough to stop the leader. He had a gun out without seconds and began firing wildly. In the chaos it wasn't clear if anyone or anything got hit. The three animatronics cut the large group down in a matter of seconds. It was an incredible feat of speed and strength! By the time the chaos came to an end and all was quiet, however, only two animatronics stood--Freddy and Bonnie, spattered with blood.

"Foxy!" Bonnie knelt down by the ancient fox's side, optics wide. Foxy was sprawled out on the ground, still growling with pitch black eyes and looking for more intruders. His expression seemed...pained, however. And it wasn't difficult to see why. Five bullets had met their mark, peppering the pirate's torso, neck, one leg, and his hook arm with hot metal. He randomly sparked every few seconds. The animatronic was currently disabled and unable to move, servos locked up from the sudden flurry of activity and the bullets lodged in his two limbs. "Did anything hit the oil tank? Or your head? Or...or your power core?" He sounded only slightly panicked.

All that escaped the fox's slightly askew mouth was a series of unintelligible garbles. It sounded quite a bit like an old dial-up modem. A bullet must have struck his mechanical voice box.

Freddy watched the rabbit fuss over the fox, standing tall over the scattered remains of the hostile intruders, for a few short moments. He turned after a while to face the night guard, fixing her with a stony sideways stare.

"Do you want to live, night guard?" His voice was a deep and surprisingly pleasant rumble, with faint hints of a Southern accent. He gave a slow nod of his head in the direction of Foxy, who seemed to be hissing and spitting at Bonnie for merely attempting to check the fresh wounds. "Fix the fox."

__________________