Esmeralda called him first at six fifteen-ish that morning in a ramble of panicked Spanish, the older woman too panicked to go in alone with the doors left open. He had zero ambition to move that morning, not even bothering to clean himself up when he grabbed his keys off the island counter, his coffee mug filled with straight black to at least get to the mall lot and back to sleep till noon, probably.

That bitch better be a victim of something, he thought to himself of his senior security guard, the urge to fire someone boiling in his gut.

In Crocs, sweatpants, and a sauce-stained sweatshirt, he shut off his convertible and swung the door open wide, trying to hold back a yawn at the sight of Esmeralda rushing to get to him. Her bright yellow polo was blinding in the sunrise light, almost ironic for the Superstar Daycare logo on the right side. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr Kline, but the doors were wide open, and Miss Vanessa was not there like usual, and I don't know if maintenance is here yet—"

"It's fine, it's fine, I'm sure it's no big deal." Kline let a yawn slip, locking the car doors as he went alongside her. "She's probably passed out in her office or something."

He pushed the door open and entered first, Esmeralda shrinking into herself a little as she kept close behind him. The front entrance seemed to be as it was left the night before, a STAFF bot vacuuming like it was supposed to with a soft whir in front of the gift shop. Though the lack of gates at the shop entrance made his blood boil a little more, giving a quick peek in as they passed.

The two let themselves through the security point and up to the offices, Esmeralda seeming a bit less anxious. Her shoulders sunk a little as she gathered her devices from their chargers. "Do you want me to walk with you?"

"No, no, you get to the daycare area and get the Attendant ready to go for maintenance. I'll go see where Vanessa is." She was waved off, and Esmeralda was out in a rush with that, her bag jingling with her keys.

His coffee was killed by the time he made it to the security office on the second floor, Kline noting the mess on the floors on his way up. Scrapes, metal pieces, blue paint on the wall of the elevator at one point. It was like a rave party went on, and the solo cups and empty alcohol bottles were missing.

The door slammed open when he scanned his badge. "Vanessa, I swear to God, you better have a damn good—" He stopped at the sight of an empty room, static on the monitors and multiple red lights flashing on the dashboard. "Vanessa?"

"Ay, Essie, is the Attendant in the daycare?" The walkie in his sweatshirt pocket echoed in the room as he approached the desk, eyes squinting to see better. Kline started patting himself down for his glasses.

"Si, he's right here in front of me. I was about to send him to you for cleaning. He got filthy somehow."

"Well, I just found a couple of his sensory bells in Parts and Service."

Finally grasping his frames and resting them on his nose, Kline blinked a little to read the computer clearly. One sight of the flashing red light next to "Integrity Systems," and he immediately kissed his chances of getting back to bed within the next hour goodbye, scanning the list.

'Gator GOLF - BREACH'
'Roxy RCWY - BREACH'
'Fazer BLST - BREACH'
'Chca GLR - BREACH'

Kline reached for his radio with a furrowed brow. "Hey, Mark, you there?"

"Whatcha got, Boss Man?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Uhhhh, I'm walking into P and S right now, why?"

"There's breach alarms on all four attractions."

"The hell? The bots are good though, right?"

He read the dash again.

'FRDY 2642 - ERR SCAN'
'MNTY 3876 - OFFLINE'
'RXNE 7741 - OFFLINE'
'CHCA 5182 - OFFLINE'
'DYCR 9025 - ACTIVE'
'BNNE 4824 - ERR SCAN'

He ignored the last one on instinct. "Monty, Roxy and Chica are listed as offline. The system can't find Freddy."

"What? There's no way, Al. Freddy was put on Safe Mode last night in his Green Room."

Klein didn't know how to answer, logging into the computer now in a bit of a rush. He clicked first on the security feeds, then the receiver logs. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest a little as the page loaded into view. He found a few of his cameras in static, lost feeds for Monty's Green Room and the arcade backroom.

"Hey, uh- Boss- You might wanna get down to Roxy's."

Alan Klein, the sole owner of the Mega Mall who put all his bets and investments into the building itself, hesitated to press the button on his radio. "What's wrong?"

There was a beat or two of silence.

"Well, uh- Roxy's eyes are missing and her face is destroyed."

He blinked. "What?"

"Roxy's eyes are missing and her face is destroyed. The shell is totalled and so's this kart I'm lookin' at that's lodged into the south barrier wall."

"Hey, Mark, I found Monty." The second voice came almost immediately after the last.

"Where's he at, Carson?"

"Uh, you're not gonna like this— He's in Gator Golf. Broken in half."

"Jesus Christ- Again? You got eyes on Chica?"

"No, she wasn't in her room when I went past."

Klein was almost boiling at the sound of money flying from his pockets.
"Where the hell is Vanessa?"