Asks open! This is a FNAF AU centered around Lolbit and Springtrap. All FNAF characters can be asked questions, and Lolbit will do their best to draw responses to the ones we find interesting.
- The Fox and the Hare
(Main blog is @chromaticcrazyass)
Prototype redesign! (He still emits red mist from his belly dw)
Tried to play more into his intended themes while making his design more cohesive. Jack-in-the-box amalgam while retaining the parts the official design does really well.
After the trap Henry laid to finally put everything to rest had consumed everything and everyone inside the pizzeria, Springtrap once again awakened to the smell of burnt wood, rust, and quiet cinders and ash, and way too much weight on his body.
He survived. Again. He chuckles at himself. Oh, the irony. He always came back. He always made it out, because god hated his ass. A divine joke, a cosmic comedy. His suit was falling apart, however. Ashen and decayed, the jaw bent to one side, though he couldn't feel the pain anymore. Or rather, pain wasn't something he mentally registered now, given how it had become as much a constant as breathing was when he was alive.
It took hours to clear out the rubble, free himself of the debris and make his way into the main dining area, or what was left of it.
He had work to do. The whole place had sunken into the earth, consumed by a sinkhole. The damage from that and the fire was severe. But it wasn't beyond salvage. He could work with this.
For weeks he slowly repaired his suit with the bits of metal scrap and endo lying around, and cleaned up and restored the pizzeria to something not fully fixed but functional and stable enough to be a hideout for a while. The fire appeared to have only consumed half the building before the sinkhole, rain and weathering had snuffed it.
A supply closet in the back remained fully intact, albeit trashed. Inside were several generators in case of a power outage. Dragging cables and wires, putting that franchise owner and technical knowledge to use, he got power restored to the building, and with it, the computers.
Computers that still functioned. Well, some of them. A few were smashed from the collapse. The ones that worked displayed the company login screen. Afton huffed, the smile on his suit widening with a grin.
They never change their passwords...
Surely enough, the same log in he had used so many years ago still worked, and he was in. In the bottom corner of the home screen, he noticed the Lolbit security program icon, which remained as a dormant process that could be manually run as a security and surveillance system on every Fazbear licensed network and device.
The old cameras were busted, broken, or missing entirely. But if he could somehow make his way back to one of the older locations...
A thud came from outside, shifting his attention away from the security desk. Sounds of broken glass being stepped on, stones and gravel being kicked around. Voices.
Someone was outside. Multiple someones.
Springtrap shut off the lights, hiding himself in the darkness as he peaked through one of the cracked windows before ducking down below the flash of a construction worker's flashlight. Three of them. He liked those odds. Three unassuming idiots. This would be fun.
"Woah..." One of them held up their torch to the crooked sign over the restaurant, "...did you know this was down here?"
One of the other men shook his head, while the other relayed into a walkie what they had found.
"We had received reports from the surveyors that there was a sinkhole under the raceway due to a cave system that ran under the Pizzaplex, but nothing about an old franchise location. Looks like one of the early 2000s buildings. Could probably recover some vintage material for the display museums once the foundation gets cleared for recovery."
"As long as everything is stable."
"Of course."
Pizzaplex? The hell's a Pizzaplex? How long have I been down here?
Springtrap stalked his way further back into the building, waiting for them to step inside. He'd investigate whatever that was after he disposed of the trespassers.
Receiving the all clear to proceed, the workers ventured into the building, cautiously pushing open the doors and stepping inside. Glass broke under their boots, the darkness seeming to swallow up and blur any features that resided beyond the cone of light from their flashlights. The air was musty and heavy with dust and old ash, and the workers pulled masks over their faces before they choked on it.
Yet the inside was eerily clean. No bottles tipped over, no papers or napkins littering the floor and succumbing to sludge and mud. No lights handing out of their sockets, even the chairs were arranged. It was as if, rather than falling into the sinkhole, it had been built within it. Confusion and unease was setting in. Something about the tidiness of the place yet the lack of people felt off. The only sign of distress was the cracks in the walls and ceiling, the shattered and damaged windows to the outside, and the burnt, ripped, and damp leather of the booths and chairs.
The three men spread themselves out, looking around for anything of notable interest. One flashed his light over the main stage, the red curtains still and obscuring the stage. With a hesitant hand, he stepped up and slowly pushed the curtain to the side.
Empty. Not a single soul on stage. Only a wooden floor and the back wall. Large speakers on either side of the stage let out a low hum. The man stroked his thick beard, confusion further unsettling his nerves. These speakers had power, and were plugged in. The building had power. A smash from the main room made him turn. Swears and laughter from his coworkers echoed past the curtains. He rolled his eyes and continued his way backstage.
The other two were making jokes, and one had tipped a glass over. Laughing to themselves, they split up and searched the halls. One passed by the bathrooms, cringing at the smell, before making his way towards the security office. The other had forced open the parts and service door, scanning over the piles of mechanical parts and loose heads.
"Creepy..."
His light panned over the various shelves and work benches. He lifted up an endo hand lying on one of the tables, inspecting it before placing it back down again. Dust tickled his ear, sensing the shadows moving behind him. He spun around, adrenaline spiking as his light showed only the gray of the wall, covered in black ashen streaks. Turning back around, he once again returned to the endos and parts surrounding him. As his light turned back toward the doorway, the one he had left open when entering, he saw it had been closed.
He jiggled the knob, but it didn't budge.
He kicked the door, attempting to break the lock again.
It didn't move.
Panic set in. He hit his palm against the door's surface, yelling to his coworkers. He tried for his walkie, but only static came through the radio.
Breathing hard, he spun around, intending to try another way out, perhaps through the back stage area.
Two white eyes met his, and he dropped his flashlight.
Backstage, the bearded man found a box full of props, party supplies, loose wires, and even pieces to a costume. He rummaged around, setting down a plush chica with it's beak burnt off, and stacks of cups still in their plastic wraps that had melted in some areas. Looks like this area had only burned a brief few minutes, maybe less, from whatever fire had made it's way through parts of the building. An electrical fire perhaps? With the amount of wires strewn everywhere, it wasn't an impossibility.
A loud bang echoed from the hall to parts and service.
"Brett?" He called.
No answer.
The hum of the speakers continued to be the only sound to accompany him as he continued to look through the boxes of props. He even found an old VHS tape labeled "Orientation and Training" on it. There didn't seem to be a player for it, and the tape had been pulled out and was ripped up and stretched. Warped like that, there was no hope it would play.
In one box, he found a small red bowtie. Spinning it around in his hands, the worker held it up to his neck, pretending to wear it.
"Looks good on you." A low, growly voice whispered behind him.
He spun around to meet the blur of a fist to his nose.
Brett had made his way to the security office, stationed near the prize corner. He squeaked one of the Freddy plushies before setting it back on it's shelf. He remembered his childhood days at Freddy's Pizza when his mom would bring him. Somehow, even though he'd never been to this particular location, he couldn't help the feeling of nostalgia as he glanced over old posters and broken toys.
No money in the registers. Damn. And here he was hoping for a small bonus to his paycheck. Sitting at the security office desk, he paused over the keyboard. Someone had already logged in. Joey perhaps? Why didn't he tell them he'd already cleared this room?
"Yo Joey, did you already look through the office?" Brett called over the walkie.
Static. No answer.
He shrugged and opened the security app. Camera system read as offline and disconnected, missing a source. File system read as corrupted, delivery system unavailable, yet the wifi connection was strong. Brett entered into the connected devices and servers tabs and rerouted the system to connect to the pizzaplex. Mostly just to see if it even worked.
Connection established.
Camera source located.
Deliveries available.
Server files downloaded.
Open administrator commands?
Administrative commands enabled.
Security protocol access enabled.
Override access enabled.
Data processing enabled.
Remote admin controls enabled.
Please Stand By.
Brett gave himself a pumped fist in triumph. It still worked! A bit retro and in desperate need of several updates, but the security system was successfully online.
As he waited for the updates to finish downloading, he stood up and called to his coworkers to come to the office. This meant they could salvage the motherboards in here. Still, he got no response. Glancing around the room again, he noticed one of the vent grates had been wrenched open.
"Weird, coulda sworn that wasn't there when I walked in here."
He walked over to it. The bars had been bent out of shape, and what looked like red paint had scraped onto the edges.
"Still wet? But how-"
He stood up, then collapsed backwards as he tripped over something behind him. Gripping the office chair and desk to steady himself, he looked up. A giant green monster loomed over him with silver, dead eyes, axe in hand.
He barely let out a scream before the large axe-head swung down, and red painted itself over the desk, computer monitor, and keyboard.
An orange fox icon smiled before a glitchy black and white error screen.
And for the first time in it's artificial life, it laughed.
