The Full Monty

At the pizzaplex, Monty is due for some renovations- but he decides to take matters into his own hands, and finally seize the opportunity to be Fazbear's biggest star. Enjoy!

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Two men in suits walked through the play area of Monty's Gator Golf, which took up about a quarter of the Fazbear Pizzaplex. It was about nine in the morning, a few hours before opening, and one of the men, which Monty only caught being named "Big Guy," was asking a lot of demanding questions. They both stopped in front of him— he almost willed himself to move, if only to make his own argument for the way both these punks were slandering him.

"Eh, I don't know, Smithers—" "It… It's Smith, sir."

Monty's glass eyes shifted ever so slightly to stare down the larger man, tapping away at his phone. "Mm. The golf course brings in… decent money, but this whole 80's rockstar is just not doing it anymore. 80's nostalgia is dead, and the kids aren't following it anymore."

"So… you think Monty here needs a touch up, big guy?"

"Exactly, Smythe. I want to go retro— before even the whole 80's rock thing. Didn't Monty start out as a hick? You know, Jugband."

Several of Monty's circuits sparked. No. They wouldn't.

"Uh… Jugband?"

"Yeah, yeah, we'll do a whole… cutesy banjo thing with him. Think Kermit the Frog, just… bigger." The big guy smacked the other man's back. "That's how we turn this place into a real gold mine. Get him out of those flashy clothes, put on a straw hat and overalls, and I want him programmed to play banjo."

"Uh…" Smith looked from Monty back to the other man. "Right, sir, right away."

"Now, show me what we're working with on the go-karts…"

As the two walked away, Monty twitched, small sparks flying off his body. They wanted bigger? He'd show them bigger…

It was just after midnight when Monty came fully online, the gator leaping from his stand. 

"Those rats. They think they're gonna drag me, me, back to some redneck jugband schtick? No— I ain't goin' back! I'll— I'll burn this place to the ground before I let that happen!" The gator curled his metal fist, slamming it into the wall and punching straight through the drywall.

It was then he heard a small, terrified gasp. The gator's head turned nearly a hundred and eighty degrees, eyes glowing in the dark as he spotted one of the human employees.

"Gah!" the human dropped his flashlight, mouth falling open, eyes locked in terror. "Oh my God— oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. They're real— th-they all said—"

Monty stomped over, backing the man into a corner as he planted a hand against the wall, growling softly as he loomed over the human. "Heeeey, little guy…" the gator's red eyes flashed as he flexed his metal claws, running one under the human's chin— already, the gator was thinking of squeezing his head like a grape to get back at the "big guy."

"Ah-ahhhh!" the human trembled in terror. "Please, please, don't hurt me— Y-you were always my favorite!"

That made Monty stop. The gator tilted the human's chin up to look him in the eye. "...What?"

"Y-yeah, you, I… I always loved the— the 'Jugband Monty' video, I-I wore out my VHS copy as a kid!" the human almost cried out.

He yelped, cowering in fear as Monty snarled and slammed his fist against the wall, cratering the brickwork. "Do not bring up the Jugband if ya don't wanna be skinned and then have me wear ya as a belt!"

"Oh God— please, I-I can't be killed by my childhood hero! Don't hurt me, please, I-I'll do anything! Anything!"

Monty hovered over the cowering human, and a thought came to him. He tilted his head back up. "Ya'll don't look like a security guard… The hell you doin' here, Little Guy?" "I-I'm a technician— a-and a robotics expert! I was supposed to start the renovations on you!"

"For the Jugband redesign?" Monty snarled.

"Y-yeah, for the— the— you-know-what."

The gator growled low, tapping his claws against the wall. "Ya good at yer job?" The human blinked, looking back up at the gator. "...Good? Heh… I… I don't mean to brag, but… I graduated top of my class in Robotics at MIT. I designed a few commercial grade robots, I have an engineering Master's Degree— I-if it weren't for Matt Goff, I-I'd probably be head of the Robotics Department by now."

The gator's red eyes flashed. "Ya got yerself a rival, Little Guy?"

"Y-you could say that…"

Monty, keeping one hand on top of the human's head, stroked his chin with his free hand. His eyes drifted to a poster of the rest of the Fazbear band— with him relegated to the back, behind even Roxanne. And that big, dumb, stupid bear hogging the spotlight…

"W-what are you going to do with me?"

"Quiet. I'm thinkin'..." Monty glared a hole in Freddy's face on the poster. "I've got a notion that'll kill two birds with one stone… They want me to bring in more people, right? Be more… popular?"

"Y-yeah, they think the whole rock star schtick is… uhm… a bit worn out."

Monty crouched down, staring the human in the eye. "I'm gonna get a bigger audience… I'm gonna get a bigger role. I'm gonna be bigger. And you, Little Guy… yer gonna help me. Ya wanna prove yer my biggest fan?"

The technician grinned nervously. "...I-I'll do my best." 

With his own Little Guy, and his own ability to plunder old robotics and spare parts kept tucked away in the back rooms of the Pizzaplex, Monty had a big, bold vision for what he wanted— he told the Little Guy how he wanted to be made stronger, strong enough that if they did try to bring him back to the Jugband days… Monty could flatten them all like a steamroller. The Gator Golf was closed for renovations as the Little Guy— who the gator took to calling LG as a sign of affection— worked on him, night after night. He upgraded Monty's chassis to hold up the extra weight, strengthened his metallic limbs, even welded together some parts himself to fit Monty's grand plan. It took weeks— but soon, the new Monty was ready for his debut.

It was nine in the morning again, just before opening. Mr. Smith, the Pizzaplex general manager, was getting antsy— the Big Guy himself, Fazbear Entertainment's CEO, was really riding him to get Monty Gator into a better position, and if he couldn't deliver, well… there went eleven years and a pension down the drain.

He pushed past the renovation curtain, tilting his head. "Alright, alright… the new paint is good, we've got new plants for a bayou look…" He stopped dead in his tracks when he came to Monty's stand, his mouth fulling agape.

The renovations to Monty had clearly been complete— but they were all wrong, terribly wrong. The gator was huge, and— Smith was grasping for words— grotesquely muscular. He was so huge and top heavy, it was a wonder Smith missed him— or that he was still standing up right. His arms alone were sculpted with more padding and plating than had gone into the original animatronic, great huge gears churning to keep his biceps solid, triceps like anvils. His chest was almost over generously padded as well, two massive pectorals packed tight with Mr. Smith couldn't begin to guess. His legs were thick around as tree trunks, and looked like they had the horsepower to haul a sixteen wheeler. The gator even sported sculpted abdomen and a back wide as a car. His old banjo had been laid out haphazardly beneath his huge legs— under the shadow of a worryingly large speedo, which, aside from a thick belt, was the only piece of clothing he wore, accessorized with a studded choker and spiked pair of bracers. 

"Oh— Oh my God. No, no, no, this is all wrong!" Smith smacked his forehead. "I-I can't show this to the Big Guy! No, I have to— to close down the mini-golf, I have to get this in storage and taken offline, I have to— Agh!"

Smith was lifted off his feet as effortlessly as if he wore a doll, Monty suddenly springing to life as he gripped him in his steely grasp, the engorged muscles of his robotic body grinding against one another. "Heeey, little guy— Sorry Smith, but there's a little change in plans."

"W-what? No! A-a Rogue AI!" 

Monty let the hapless manager drop, the man hitting the ground with a small grunt. The gator then picked up his old banjo, the slightest application of his power snapping it like a twig. "Rogue AI? That's a funny way to talk about your biggest star. There's gonna be some changes 'round here— don't worry, cher. I think you're gonna like some of them."