You Don't Want Help, Do You?

Chapter Two: Silent Night

"How am I going to get out now?" Gregory asked.

"Perhaps we can find a way in the atrium. You will need an entrance pass or a security card in order to access it."

Gregory nodded. "Okay. Well, how do I get those?"

"An entrance pass will not allow you into the pizzeria. However, you may get an upgrade for it in Customer Service."

Gregory frowned. "I guess this photo pass doesn't help?"

"I am sorry, but no. It can only open my door."

"Aw, darn it." Gregory waved his flashlight around. Upon coming up with nothing, he walked through the entrance area. He tried to open the guard stands, but they would not budge without a ticket.

At the end of the gargantuan room stood a pedestal flanked by fake plants. Dead neon lights and faded writing plastered the wall above the pedestal and the gift box sitting on top of it.

Hoping beyond hope Gregory would run into some kind of luck, he opened the gift box and stuck his hand inside. From the box, he withdrew a dark patterned card announcing its status as an entry ticket.

Yes!

Gregory, with a short hum of victory, walked straight through one of the ticket guards, which yielded to his ticket.

He immediately spotted a dead S.T.A.F.F. bot with a security cap and a dead flashlight laying on the floor in front of a stagnant fountain topped by a gargantuan, golden Freddy statue.

In the otherwise silent room, he heard loud, clunking footsteps.

Gregory knew Freddy was in the entrance area, conserving as much battery as his half dead body would allow. So, he dove behind the fountain and peeked out from the marble rim.

He recognized this newest animatronic, mostly. Glamrock Chica walked in a heavy, uneven gait. Her head lolled and her wide eyes stared blankly ahead. The dented and time-worn shell on her chest cracked and broke in places. One arm was completely warped, and half-stripped of its shell. Cracks crossed her head, going down her mold-spotted beak. More mold crept out from under her chest plate, presumably where old food had not been cleaned.

Gregory wrinkled his nose. He knew she should stink, but the food she consumed was so old, it was black and flaky and barely had any smell at all. Still, he shuffled back a little.

Chica stopped and moved her head from side to side. Her eyes sparkled in a little bit of life. "Is someone there?" she asked. Her voice, soft and clear, bounced off the tall walls and glass.

Chica was Freddy's friend. They were in a band. Maybe she was friendly?

Gregory got to his feet. "Um, hello."

Her head snapped to the side and her wide, violet-blue eyes trained on Gregory. Her head twitched. "You're a little boy," she stated.

Gregory, shrinking into himself and regretting every choice that led to this decision, nodded. "Yeah," he choked out. "I mean, n–"

"I hate little children! This is all your fault!" she screamed and charged.

Gregory bolted.

She swiped at Gregory as he went up the stairs. "Get back here!" she snarled.

Gregory turned and ran into the right shop, which he knew from a glance on the bottom floor held some sort of customer service.

She charged after him, knocking over a display case of trinkets and keychains in her haste.