Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

Charlie at the front.
“Look,” Marla said suddenly, and pointed to the screen at the lower right.
“Look.”
The night guard was there; though they could not make out his face, his baggy
uniform and sagging shoulders told that it was the same man. He was in the hall near the
restaurant’s entrance, walking past the party rooms and the arcade with a slow,
purposeful gait.
“Lamar, warn them,” Marla said urgently, and again Lamar spoke into the
walkie-talkie.
“Jessica, the guard is somewhere around there, hide.”
There was no response from the radio, but onscreen, the group of three froze,
then as one made for the control room under the stage, squeezing in and closing
themselves in just as the guard appeared in the doorway.
Voices. People moving around.
Carlton did not allow himself to sigh in relief, a rescue wouldn’t do him any
good if he got his insides punctured by a hundred tiny robot parts first. Instead he
continued with what he had been doing: inching his way across the floor, into the view
of the security camera that perched near the ceiling, just above the door. Each movement
was so scarce it felt like nothing, but he had been doing this for over an hour, and he
was almost, almost there. He kept his breathing steady, using his trapped hands to lift
his body a tiny bit, move to the side, and let himself down again, just a little further to
the right. His fingers were cramping and his head still ached, but he kept going,
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