Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

As he walked briskly through the mall, Dunn was at least grateful the children
were not there this time. As the youngest member of the Hurricane Police Department,
Dunn always took care to think of teenagers as children, even though he knew how small
the gap between them was. If he could bring them to believe he was a responsible adult,
hopefully at some point he would believe it, too.
Dunn flipped on his flashlight as he reached the entrance to the narrow
alleyway that led to Freddy Fazbear’s. He swept the beam up and down the walls ahead
of him, but the alley was empty of life, and he took a deep breath and went in. Dunn kept
to the wall, his shoulder brushing lightly against the rough brick as he tried to avoid the
puddles that pooled beneath leaky pipes. The bright beam of his flashlight illuminated
the alley almost as well as overhead bulbs, but somehow the light was not comforting; it
only made the place look stark and grim, the shelves of tools and rejected paint cans
now woeful and exposed. As he moved toward the door to the restaurant something tiny
and cold landed on his head, and he startled, swinging his light up like a weapon, and
pressing his back against the wall as defense against the threat. Another cold drop of
water landed on his cheek and he took deep breaths.
When at last he reached the outer door to the restaurant, the shelf that had
blocked it was gone: the chains that had seemed so permanently fixed in place were
hanging loose and the door was cracked open slightly. The immense, rusted padlock
was lying in the dirt, its shackle hanging open. Dunn kicked it away from the door. He
dug his fingers into the gap, prying until he could get a grip on it, then pulled at the door
with both hands until it screeched open wide enough for him to enter. He crept down the
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