Through Toy Chica's Eyes

Small Warning: there is a brief mention of a body being inside one of the Withered Animatronics near the end, so be aware of that before you read ^^

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Screams.

I recognize them as closely the stage I'm rooted to, yet I still am unable to comprehend why living things make them.

My eyes flit open. Cerulean, plastic orbs, painted to reflect a certain degree of child-like cheeriness, snap mechanically to the key areas of the room, cutting over party tables and sloppily assembled chairs with little care.

Despite the dreaded sound reverberating within the walls, there is no urgency in my search. I cannot care for the wellbeing of whomever is in distress, for I am not programmed to. The only task assigned to me is to locate the source of the disruption and the proper authorities if necessary.

When I determine the stage area to be empty, I shift my eyes towards my bandmates. The bear stands lifeless, his unblinking eyes staring forward, as if anticipating the arrival of tomorrow's guests. The bunny, however, stirs, coming to with a light shake of his baby blue head. He blinks, following through with the basic room-scanning procedure I had previously demonstrated, and finally, he looks at me. His expression is bored, almost expectant; a typical feature of his preset personality.

I roll my robotic eyes with great exaggeration – a method I picked up from my database – and stomp from my position onstage, taking the presented duty upon myself.

Wandering down the dark halls is no big task for an animatronic such as myself. I'm well-equipped to navigate the premises both during and after the pizzeria's hours of operation. My database retains a precise map of the building, though I've long ago lost the need to call upon it. Further down the hall lay the security room. I offer it a routine flyover, doubling back as I realize the office was empty, save for the clutter strewn about the cramped space.

Odd. Typically, a guard is always on-site. I run through my standard protocol to determine whether or not an employee should be alerted. A few seconds before I reach the conclusion that holding off would be in everyone's best interest. He could simply be patrolling tonight, or perhaps he, too, is investigating the scream.

I turn away from the office then, understanding that there is nothing for me there. My sensors strain themselves to detect a hint as to where the cry originated, but it is a vain endeavor. Could it have been a malfunction from one of the speakers–?

WHAM!

The sound of the Parts & Service door being flung open alerts me, and I turn towards the source, only to have it find me.

He runs into my side with a dull thump, falling backwards with a cry akin to the one I detected previously. My first thought is that this man must be a new hire, but his reaction to me causes a nagging suspicion to suggest otherwise.

Though I am aware that I belong here, there is a certain quality about the man that causes me to feel out of place. The way his silvern eyes tear into me causes an unnatural sense of inferiority to course through my circuits. His thin, pale arms, cleanly torn by aggravated scars, clutch desperately at something – a tool, of sorts – but he tucks it behind himself, so that I may not see.

He tries his best to appear brave and cunning, sneering at me in a nasty sort of way, but beneath his mask I see that this man is very, very afraid.

Unconcerned with his underlying emotions, I delve into my database, utilizing my facial recognition to seek out the identity of the individual standing before me.

My search is soon concluded. I see now that this man possesses quite a record. While never imprisoned for the crimes of which he was accused, the mere notion of the listed atrocities is nearly enough to make my programming–

BAM!

It is not a strong enough blow to down me, nor damage any crucial components within myself, but my programming is left stunned, scrambling to piece together the proper protocol to enact. My database sets to work on a new list of crimes to add to the man's sizable record.

Second degree tresing, first degree damage to property, petty theft…

I detect movement and break from my internal calculations to see the man sprinting away. I begin to tromp after the troublesome perpetrator, but halt as my programming determines that he is accelerating at a pace far too great. If I had my cupcake, I'd have surely thrown it at the unruly criminal.

To do what little I can manage for the situation, I input a notification to the proper authorities via my database and prepare to return to the stage. Even if the night was not a total success, I know that my bandmates will enjoy the tale.

Suddenly, there is another scream, but it is not at all reminiscent of the first. It is more static as opposed to a legitimate voice, and yet within it, my programming detects the undeniable hint of humanity.

I turn again, staring down the Parts & Service door undecidedly. It is not my duty to enter that room unless I require maintenance. To enter by myself would be violating protocol, which is a thing I would rather not do…

Another shriek pierces my sensors, and I feel a tug within my servos.

    Unless someone requires my assistance.

Breaking character for a fleeting moment of autonomy, I march towards the door and tug it open. I do not let it close behind me, lest the entirety of the room be plunged in darkness.

Whatever the man had come here to do, it was evident that his task had not been completed. The forgotten ones, as my bandmates and I have come to call them, lie strewn about the floor, as usual, but their exoskeletons sat crooked upon their endos, and their heads were pried upwards, suggesting unauthorized tampering.

Beginning to wish that I had been ed by my bandmates, I kneel downwards to acknowledge the animatronic nearest me, the fox. I wait a while, staring into his dead, golden eye, but he doesn't shift from his position against the wall. I pried his eyepatch upward, but the optic beneath remained equally as lifeless.

I turned then to the rabbit, who, unlike the fox, displayed signs of life. He sat, cradling his head in the hand he still possessed, releasing a low whine from within his battered voice box. I again attempt to communicate, but am ignored.

The scream comes once more, louder this time, and I turn to finally pinpoint the source.

Past the bear lay the chicken, sprawled helplessly across the tiles. Her handless arms flailed at me as I approached, and I very carefully assisted in propping her against the wall. As I did, something slid out from the bottom of her torso. I motioned to replace it, and stopped.

I recognized the arm clearly; it was only the question as to what it was doing inside of the animatronic that halted my procedure. It was small, undoubtedly belonging to a child, but it was unnaturally thin, feeling as if it could break beneath my hold as I grasped it, feeling for life. I tugged the tiny hand gently, attempting to free whoever was trapped inside, but at that instant, the chicken recoiled, and the limb fell back into the animatronic's chest cavity. A fresh scream followed, rising from the deepest reaches of the chicken's throat.

It mattered little; I had felt the child's hand, and it had been limp. She had not reacted to my touch, and she never would. Evidently, the forgotten ones were far more so than anyone would have ever known.

    No one would find her. No one would find any of them.

Walking myself back to the stage was an instinctive act, but the thoughts clouding my programming were anything but. I returned to my place, standing alongside the bear and the rabbit, acting as if I were content, but within myself, a change had occurred.

I know now why living things scream.

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Time: Approx. 2.5 hours

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