Richard Wilford

A car stops at the parking lot, and a man in purple shirt gets out of it. The door closes with a thud, accompanied by a sound of the vehicle being locked. It's almost 12 a.m. Richard's shift starts in a couple of minutes. As he approaches the heavy glass doors, his impassive gaze lingers on the sign high above them. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza" It's going to be another long night for him. And, what's the worst part, he was supposed to work with someone else this time.