i have been experimenting with paneling and composition this chapter. i don't think my paneling was Bad before, judging by the amount of people following this comic, i'm confident to assume that my paneling is good enough to keep a reader hooked... despite the below-average art of the initial pages. i just didn't think i got Weird enough with it last chapter.
when i would do my required re-readings of chapter 1, a lot of pages felt like they were the same. maybe it isn't that way for you guys, but it made me step back and think Ok. i know the Most obvious way to panel this page. now, what is the second obvious? then, what is the third obvious? and i'd say that it invigorated the process !
now, there is nothing wrong with paneling that doesn't get too crazy; i have yet to finish watchmen, but it uses the same 9-panel grid in multiple variations and it's Honestly amazing, i'm excited for when i could potentially use it in a page. it's just that i feel like when it comes to something like Fnaf, a more Loose paneling would work considering... vaguely gestures at it. the fnaf-ness of it all.
“Can you clean this water out?” A co-worker of yours hands you a bucket full of dirty soapy water and you take it gingerly, trying to not get any of the gunk on your hands or clothes before trekking outside to dump the water into the grass before heading into the utility closet to scrub the bucket clean before filling it back up with fresh water.
           “Here.” You say, holding up the bucket for her to take as she accepts it with a grateful smile lighting up her face. You had long been done with your tasks and have now resorted to lounging around the arcade area with hawk-like eyes ready to help with anyone or anything which needed assistance. After the first few hours of your shift, the sound of children screaming and constant arguments that your co-workers had with Karens had faded well into the background leaving you with a buzzing in your ears that accompanied all of the tasks you diligently completed.
           “Mind helping me with this?” The girl who handed you the bucket earlier was back, holding a stack of menus in one hand and a stack of plates in another.
           “With the menus or the plates?” You ask, slightly impressed with the balance she was keeping on both stacks.
           “Menus, preferably. Dealing with customers is not my strong suit as I get tired quickly from social interactions.” Why is she in customer service then?
“It’s super easy.” She continues. “Just hand out the menus to those who are being seated and then ask them for their order and write it down along with their table number, hand it off to the kitchen and then bring their order out for them later.” She speaks quickly, seemingly in a rush as she waves a hand at you and departs to the kitchen after handing you the menus. You stand there for a quick second, taking in a deep breath.
           “Super easy my ass. I don’t know a single thing about waitressing,” You grumble to yourself before making your way over to a mother and child who just sat down.
           “"Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. What would you like on this stunning Saturday?” You say, deciding to at least spice up your talk with some cheesy jokes and successfully make yourself cringe at the same time.
           “I want pepperoni pizza with a large coke.” The small boy says, his voice congested as he wipes away snot from his nose on his sleeve, leaving a little shiny trail of bodily fluid on his black sweater.
           “You’re not getting a large coke when you’re sick honey. Please order something else, maybe a water?” The boy turns to look at his mother, enraged.
           “I’m not sick! I’m fine and I want my coke!” Oh look, another stuck up kid. Maybe him and that Kathy girl can be friends!
“Bart.” The mother starts with a warning tone. Who the hell names their son, Bart?
You know that you’ll be standing here for another 5 minutes as the mother and son, Bart, go back and forth arguing over a measly drink.
           “I’ll be right back. Please take your time.” You excuse yourself and walk towards a group of teenagers all throwing shredded pieces of tissue paper at each other which land all over the floor. You sigh, looking at the floor knowing that one of your underpaid co-workers will have to pick all of that up before the next set of customers come in. The floor already feels sticky on your feet and you’re dreading getting that duty if it ever comes to it.
           “Welcome to Fredd-“ You start off but a gangly looking boy stops you.
           “Yeah. We get it. Be a doll and fetch me a fanta orange and large cheese pizza for everyone at this table.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.
           “You know what? Why don’t you actually act more grown up so it’ll convince me to serve you, huh?” You say, throwing the stack of menus down on the table. The exhaustion of the day has caught up and you decide at that moment that maybe pacing your tasks instead of doing them all in one hour would’ve been the better option. The girl sitting next to the boy stands up, throwing the unknown contents of her bottle at you. You immediately detect the taste of alcohol as some of it lands in your mouth. Right, so she’s been drinking underage. You give her a death stare, refusing to back down from the fight that you had started.
           “Isn’t your job to serve us? So go do it or else I’ll have to talk to your manager.” You grit your teeth, nails digging into the already chipped paint of the table before you pick up the stack of menus and storm off, ready to give the kitchen the table’s order.
           “What happened to you?” Bucket girl, Emily asks as you pace around the kitchen, waiting for the order to come out and dreading going back.
           “Someone threw a bunch of alcohol at me after I initially refused to serve them for their attitude.” You reply, accepting the cloth from her hand as you gently pat your hair and face with it.
           “Bunch of teenagers, I assume?” She asks and you crack a smile for the first time since you’ve been in this workplace.
           “Yeah. Rowdy idiots.” You comment as the table is called up and you pick up the order of pizzas from the kitchen. You walk quickly, wanting to avoid confrontation with the people there again before you see the girl crying, ranting to… Mr Afton? About what? Oh no… it can’t have been about your behaviour earlier, right? No. It most definitely is. You set the pizzas quickly down on the table, dishing out all of the plates, cups and straws before stepping back and attempting to leave as fast as possible.
           “It was her!” The girl erupts and you turn around to see her pointing a finger accusingly at you like you had murdered someone and she was called in as a witness to identify the murderer. “She was the one who refused to serve us and then threatened to harm my dear friend.” Your brow quirks at the second half of her sentence, knowing full well that nothing like that happened. She had thrown alcohol at you which was some sort of physical attack. You, on the other hand, had done absolutely nothing other than slightly raise your voice.
           “Is that so?” Mr. Afton turns around to glare at you with the fervour of a thousand daggers piercing your skin. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you turn the other way and push past the double doors leading into the hallway that houses both co-owner’s offices, parts and services room, utility closet and staff bathrooms.
The eerie crackling of the Freddy Fazbear sign outside the dinky little diner does nothing to calm your worries, in fact, it does the complete opposite. Considering the pretty awful interview with one of the owners, Henry Emily, you should actually be ecstatic that you even landed a job at this place. Mcdonald’s was actually your first choice but the manager did kick you out after your dry wit and sarcasm caused you to accidentally insult his favourite employee right in front of him. How were you supposed to know that that girl was his favourite employee? She looked like she wouldn’t be anyone’s favourite employee with that irritating smirk and suggestive glances she gave towards her manager. A “do you ever take your job seriously?” directed towards the girl was the final hurdle for the manager as he immediately pushed you out the doorway before you could even finish the interview. But enough dwelling on the past, it was supposed to be a bright moment for you! A day of new beginnings. A start to the future. A catalyst for the rest of the life that lay ahead of you.
           “So, are you going to just stand in the doorway? Or are you going to actually go in, newbie?” The teenage voice behind you lifts you out of your thoughts. You hold your tongue to prevent the insulting comment you wish you could throw at the boy as you move aside and let him go in first. He’s wearing the classic purple polo shirt, black slacks and hat that every employee at this place wears with a name badge clipped neatly on his shirt pocket. You watch his receding back before deciding to step in instead of freezing out in the cold. You make your way past rows of circular tables and plastic yellow chairs before stopping in front of the employee’s break room. Putting a hand on the door knob, you push open the red door and immediately make a beeline for your locker as you see a small group of other people in the room, ducking your head to avoid social interaction with others. You pull open your locker, tugging off the backpack on your back and stuffing it deep in the locker. Inside lies your toolkit, — a gift from your best friend that you always kept with you as the tools in there could be used for more than just fixing and building machines— your lunchbox, a small paper pad, pen and a bottle of water.
           “You gonna hurry up or what, newbie? We’ve got a staff briefing in five minutes.” The teenage boy is back and this time you can get a good look at the nametag on his shirt, Matthew. There’s also a packet of gum peeking out of the pocket, really giving character to the teenage boy. Â
           “Yeah. I’ll be there in a minute, Matthew.” You respond as you shrug off your black wool coat and stuff it in the locker as well, making sure to grab your pen and small paper pad before walking towards the centre of the room for the company briefing.           Â
           “Hey.” The girl standing next to you reaches out, tapping lightly on the pad of paper you’re drawing random lines on. Her high ponytail bounces about as her eyes shine and she bounces on the balls of her feet excitedly. She’s a bit shorter than you, the top of her head reaching about your forehead.
           “Hi.” You respond simply, before attempting to move your attention back to the random lines left to dry on the page.
           “So… I heard you’re new. What’s your name?” You give it simply, not thinking much about it as she gives an exclamation of surprise.
           “That’s such a pretty name!” She draws out the word “pretty” making you slightly clench on the pen in your hand as you try not to roll your eyes at the kiss-ass type attitude she’s displaying.
           “My name is Katherine. But everyone calls me Kathy.” She points proudly at her name badge before sticking her chin up slightly and giving you a bright smile. “I’m actually Mr. Afton’s favourite employee.” Oh god not again. You think to yourself. Encountering the favourite McDonald’s employee got you kicked out of a job interview. Assuming that Mr. Afton was a part of the management team in some way, pissing off his favourite employee would surely get you fired in a matter of seconds. You decide to stay silent instead, opting to not fuel nor damage her ego before you could fuel or damage your own.
           “Oh come on, newbie. You can talk. You told me your name earlier.” She’s hanging on your arm, practically dragging you down and you have to tense up slightly to avoid her pulling you to the floor. How annoying are people in this place? Considering she looks like she’s 15, she’s probably the most annoying high schooler ever. Before you can even get a single noise out of your mouth, the door opens and in shuffles the man at your interview with his usual colourful flannel and round glasses along with another man who’s much taller, thinner and unusually pale. He’s wearing more business-like attire, opting for a white dress shirt, black vest, purple tie and black slacks. Your eyes trail down to his shoes where your nose scrunches at the choice of the expensive Oxfords tapping rhythmically at the checkered marble floor. His arms cross as he surveys the room like he owns the place (he most likely does).
           “Good morning, everyone.” Henry announces. A chorus of good morning’s lazily echoes the room. Henry goes on to talk about the newest additions to the place: a new arcade game being installed or something about the newest model of a drink’s dispenser that the employees need to read up on. You pay him little attention, opting to scrutinise every single aspect of the man beside him as he reeks of poshness and a demanding demeanour. As soon as his gaze meets yours, Kathy stops clinging on your arm, opting to instead give him a sultry look. Your face morphs into one of disgust at the idea of a 15 year old trying to go after a middle aged man but your face and gaze neutralizes as it returns to meet his own, challenging him to a silent staring contest. With a slight eyebrow raise, he looks away first and your attention returns to Henry’s speech.
           “On that note, we also have a brand, new employee. It would be great if she could introduce herself.” You give your name awkwardly and then go back to lurking at the back of the crowd again.
           “Right. Make sure to treat her well and welcome her to the team. Now back to work everyone.” Henry claps his hands fairly loudly as everyone starts shuffling out of the break room dejectedly. The squeak of shoes shuffling on the floor making you cringe slightly along with the many slams of the door.
           “Did you see how he looked at me?” Kathy reappears suddenly, shaking your shoulders vigorously.
           “Who?” You ask simply, pretending like you didn’t know what she was talking about. She tsks at you disappointedly, putting her hands on her hips before asking for a piece of gum from Matthew passing by, who takes his pack out from his shirt pocket and gives her a piece.
           “You weren’t listening to what I was saying earlier?” She puts the stick of gum in her mouth and starts chewing obnoxiously loudly.
           “More like I didn’t really care about what you were saying.” You mutter to yourself as she blows a large bubble in your face and you return a deadpan look.
           “Yeah, whatever. Anyways, Mr. Afton looked at me.” She twirls her ponytail on her right index finger before squealing like she spotted something behind you and running out the door towards the main area of the diner.
           “What is up with that girl?” You whisper to yourself as a large hand lands itself on your shoulder.
           “Jesus christ!” You shout, turning around to face the one and only Mr. Afton. His cologne smells of pine wood and overwhelms your senses. He doesn’t say anything, handing you a slip of paper with a list of tasks and pushing you out the door with a stern look on his face. I didn’t even do anything. Why’s he already getting upset with me? And can people please stop pushing me out of doors?
I had a lot of dogs in my younger years, but I don’t think I’d like another… Hen has really been pushing me to get a rabbit. I haven’t had a pet rabbit since my single-digit years. It’s a very tender part of my history, to be honest. This house is just much too quiet, though.
