Markiplier Imagines

85 // Security Guard

don't hate me. i really wanted to write something like this and yeah. sorrrrryyyyyyy. X3.

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It'll be fun, they said. You'll be just fine, they said.

Bullshit.

Things weren't fine when it came to you and Fazbear shit; you just aren't two things that go together. Of course, you'd just gotten the job and hadn't worked even one night there, but that didn't matter. There was nothing but excuses for why you should stay looking at the cameras, make sure the animatronics stayed "happy," and also made sure that nothing went wrong. What the hell kind of job comes up with excuses like that, just to cope with the fact that they could be responsible for you possibly losing your life while trying to work through the night.

But, since you were in a shortage of money, it seems only rightful to work at one of the only available jobs while you can. So, now, here you were, walking toward the Pizzeria with a duffle bag tightly gripped in your hand. Your boss had told you you'd be there with another person, a "Veteran," on the workforce, and they'd be there to help you throughout the night shift that week. And what kind of boss would he be to give you any more information on this said person? A bad one, obviously, so you have absolutely no idea who you're going to be working with or whether or not they're a serial killer.

What you did know, though, was that that person had been here before so they would probably help you learn the ropes and figure out the complicated shit known as your shift. Checking your phone, you saw that it was around ten, meaning the moon was out and there was a white, dim light shining down on the parking lot as you made your way into the building. There was one light on to show you the entrance, but that was it; even the light that would advertise the logo of the restaurant was off.

Opening the barely lit door, you almost cringed at the squeaking sound it made. Your grip fluctuated on the handle of the duffle bag, your muscles tensing and un-tensing at random sounds echoing throughout the abandoned-looking place. 

Taking notice to the walls, you saw nothing but colored pictures, drawn by kids no doubt, some depicting a fox, others depicting a bear, chicken-duck-thing, and a bunny.  A shiver ran up your back as you heard a creaking sound, snapping your head in the direction from which it came.

You didn't stop, though. You kept walking and tried to find your way around, passing the restrooms, the stage, and walking down a long corridor to an office with a peculiar looking door. It was metal, the yellow and black caution lines decorating the bottom in a diagonal pattern. You looked in the window, seeing the back of someone and figuring that was the person that was there to help you. Knocking on the metal door, you waited for the person to move around, shuffle, do something.

They did nothing. So, you knocked again. This time, they opened the door. The metal went up with a quickness, and you stopped to take a look at the person inside the office. It was a man, his cap off and resting on the desk at the front of the room, and a pair of glasses resting on his nose. He motioned for you to come in, you obliging while still trying to study him. 

His hair was red, the middle sticking up while the rest of it went down the side of his head, tiny strands resting on his face. You couldn't see his eyes just yet, but you did see the hand he stuck out and the small smile that consumed his lips.

"Mark," he said, his voice deeper than usual. 

"Y/n," you returned, dropping your duffle bag by the door, and looking back up at him. He was walking toward the desk in the front, grabbing a tablet and walking back to you. 

"You're the new gu- girl, right?" You laughed at his self-correction, nodding and standing next to him to see the tablet as he pointed at it. "Okay, good. Wouldn't want a random person walking in or whatever. Either way, here's the cameras. You just need to watch Pirate Cove and make sure that the battery doesn't go out. I'll be here, but I can't always watch over what you're doing for six hours."