hte-anon asked:The parrot subtly slipped her a lumpy, misshapen potato. "Use this as you will, friend."
'Thank you friend…. GORDONGETOVERHERE'
'Thank you friend…. GORDONGETOVERHERE'
"Are you kidding—?” Frantically wiggling out of Gordana’s grip, Chell liberated her arm and forced the metal door shut.
Muttering out a medley of expletives, keeping to the tempo of a shifting camera angle, she finally swapped back to the claustrophobic office space, flanked on both ends by a steel sheath of metal and, beyond, that sadistic animatronics.
"They’re going to drain the power. They’re going to— why would there be electric doors? Who thought this was a good investment? What idiot wrote up the budget plan and said ‘I know we can’t afford more than six hours of power, but wouldn’t sliding doors be cool— ohgod. ”
As their battery life reached a condemning 0%, the screen immediately shifted to a muted darkness, an eerie music wafting from the speakers.
She froze. No. How did they lose power. IT WAS ONLY 5 AM.
Freddy’s face appeared in the doorway, flickering on and off.
'Well, I could. Not sure why you’d want me to though.’
One inarticulate string of noises later and Chell had swapped screens, slamming one of the metal doors shut before the floppy-eared nightmare could rear its ugly head.
"Twenty years of pent-up animatronic rage?" she offered. "Alright. Five percent of battery. One hour left. We can do this, we can do this…"
Gordana was clinging to Chells arm by then. ‘Only five percent? Really? We’re going to have to be more careful next time…’ The chicken was standing in the window to the right when they tried the lights. ‘The door!’
"Twenty four dollars? That’s less than half what Aperture was paying. Or… promised to pay." She reluctantly accepted the simulated death wish. "… alright, that argument got away from me."
"Big Bird is in the dining area. Freddy’s still haunting the stage area," she flipped through the medley of cameras, nodding confidently. "I think we got th— BUNNY, TWELVE O’CLOCK.”
With a less than dignified yelp, she panned over the east wing, getting an eye full of a glaze-eyed rabbit caught in the flicker of a strobe light.
Gordana nearly jumped out of her seat, a startled gasp forcing its way out. The moment she could regather her thoughts, she signed to her compadre. ‘How are they moving so fast?!’
Being caught on the other end of an out-of-comission security camera, Chell couldn’t help but mutter an internal "so that’s what that feels like".
"Oh-kay,” she sighed, furrowing her brow. “Check the hallways. Wait, how much power do we have left?” A considerate pause. “You’d think that if there were blood-thirsty bots running around, the least you could do is give the night shift guy a decent flashlight…”
'The place is probably broke from all the lawsuits. I mean, the job apparently only pays $4 an hour. Fifteen percent left and two hours left… Think we can do this?' She signed, turning the computer controls to Chell so she could look around without asking.
"There’s five bucks you’re never going to see ag— wait, what was that?”
The game’s auto-loop of white noise was shattered by a canned rattling of, what sounded like, cooking pans. Forsaking her facade of indifference, she nudged Gordana anxiously, “Check camera six!”
The screen now showed only words, as the camera was disable. Thankfully the audio worked so they could hear the noise better. ‘Somebody’s hungry…’
"That’s reassuring," came the murmured reply.
Despite herself, Chell’s eyes peeled through the fuzz of static, scouring each new camera angle for a sign of movement. As the on-screen time-stamp faced three a.m., the demonic-likeness of the Chuck E. Cheese gang had still yet to do anything that warranted a therapy session.
"So much for free-roaming…"
'Maybe the game's broken?' Gordana signed with a sigh. Checking the rooms again, she paused on the show stage. The chicken was missing…
Chell watched the screen placidly as the introductory message began to rattle out a mouthful of exposition.
"Free-roaming capabilities, huh? So, just to recap, which key lets me high-tail it out of here?"
'We can't move from this spot. The only way to keep track of them seems to be the cameras and lights, but we have to conserve energy or something like that…” Gordana brought up the cameras. Nothing had moved from the stage yet, so she put them back down and waited by studying the rooms things. Did that cupcake have a face??
"Funny. I was about to say the same thing."
"Alright. Let’s get this over with."
'Okay. Starting… Now…' She signed before starting the game. It faded from the menu to a newspaper job ad that only stayed on the screen long enough to be read, fading again to a screen that read “12:00 AM 1st Night.”
"When this game has you crawling into my bunk, I’ll remind you whose idea it was to play it."
'Oh please. I'm sure these robots can't be half as bad as what I've seen.”
"Speak for yourself. I’d rather spend my Saturday night with killer headcrabs than ‘Tickle Me Satan’ over there." She quirks a brow towards the menu screen.
'Next time we're surrounded by headcrabs, I'll remind you that you said that.' She joked with a roll of her eyes and a smirk.