It was dark. But he knew the building all too well. Just off the corner of Cavendish and Pike, the broken down old abandoned warehouse. The street moved quietly under his paws as he moved closer to the cold concrete wall. Innocent people were inside, he just didn't know which room was it. The building was so far out of town that no one would hear them. There was no point in trying. Around the building were old torn down concrete structures. It was a failed and abandoned town. No one came here anymore. No one except the desperate or the illegal rich. And he knew what and who was exactly in that building.

The air around him was chill, the soot from under his red paws kicked up around him in a billow of smoke. Old posters littered the area, mostly wanted signs with a familiar face on them. The parks were all dried up and dead. Old billboards flickered their lights from failing electric panels. It was a ghost town. As he crept up slowly to the side of the building, he looked left. No one there. He looked right, it was all clear. The only window he managed to see on that side was barred up. No light came from it. His only help was the moon. Gently peering in, he looked inside.

The smell alone was enough to turn him away. The green mossed out concrete floor was littered in metal tools. Scalpels claimed a small wooden table that was decorated in the splatters of someone's dried blood. Looking further in, he saw a wooden device with belt straps. His ears flattened against his skull. The walls had claw marks in an aggressive way, telling the story of what happened in this room. Large brick like bags were neatly stacked against the corner of the wall. That was the only part of the room that was taken care of. The moon light cascaded down from the window, illuminating the horrors for him. His shadow was displayed on the ground. So far, he found no one, but the smell alone told him it was the right place.

A figure stirred.

His attention snapped toward the small moving figure in the dark. Metal clanging had danced along with the movement and shone dimly in the moonlight, mocking him and showing him that what he wanted came with a price. Long purple ears were the first thing he saw, followed by the thick black collar that kept him in place against a wall. His body was only bruised superficially. Someone had beaten him with care, making sure he was still able to move comfortably. A growl escaped passed him lips and that made the figure shoot up.

He stared back at him with such frightful eyes. One was swollen from his last beatings and he was stripped from his clothing.

"Little rabbit! Up here!" he whispered.

The rabbit naturally had his ears lowered from years of torment and covered his chest with his arms.

"What are you doing? Get out of here! Don't you know that this town belongs to Freddy Fazbear? His men will slit your throat if they find you on his street!"

His voice was hushed but filled with urgency. He didn't want what happened to him to happen to this other fox.

The fox chuckled, giving him a heartwarming grin. Something that the chained up rabbit hadn't seen in a long time. He turned his head away. Hope was too much for his fragile little heart. He couldn't be disappointed away with the possible chance of the one thing he desired so much.

"Don't worry, little one. I know this place all too well. Do you think you can grab a scalpel off the table? Keep it behind your back, and I'll help you get out of here."

The rabbit raised a brow in question at him.

"Huh? What do you mean?" he asked the bizarre fox that had randomly showed up at the widow.

The fox rolled his eyes.

"Grab that scalpel right there if you can reach it then hide it. Don't let anyone see it, alright? If you want to get out of this hell hole, it'll take a while. And it'll take some help from you as well."

The rabbit's eyes twinkled with the glimmer of emotion that returned to his body. He stood up, walked as far as his chain would let him then stretched his body out. The fox watched in sadness as the skeletal frame of the purple furred one glimmered in the moonlight. The metal chain rattled with every twist and turn his body made. There was only one mission in mind, and that was to grab the scalpel. The fox couldn't reach it, it was up to him.

His fingertips grazed against the cold metal of the instrument that his body was all too familiar with. The reflecting shine from the moonlight bore into his head as his bones creaked, trying to push his arm farther than what he was designed for. His fingertips brushed up against the metal of the knife again and it fell with an echoing clang.

"Shit," the fox whispered, then dashed out of sight from the window.

The rabbit's eyes widened in horror as he saw that his hope had disappeared once again from his life. He immediately sat back up against the wall and held himself. It only took a few minutes before the large molded thick door, opened with a slam that reverberated against the whole room. A lanky looking dark fox with baggy pants came in. His arm was gratified with unoriginal tribal mark tattoos and a hypocrital cross necklace was dangled around his lean chest. Rock music was heard from the neighboring room.

"What was that bangin' eh?" he asked, grabbing the rabbit's ears and forcing him to look up.

A look of pain and fear spread across his eyes.

The fox laughed, throwing the purple rabbits head back against the wall making a sickening crack resonate from inside the partially emptied room. Blood spilled from the ear of the victim as he slowly laid down in fetal position, holding the wound over his head and rocked back and forth slowly on the cold unforgiving ground.

"Joey! Give the fucker some water, I forgot!" a voice had shouted from the room where the music was originating. Joey sucked his teeth, kicking the defenseless bunny in his gut.

"Why the fuck do I gotta do that!? He can wait 'till t'morrow! He aint goin' anywhere anyway!" The dark furred fox looked down at his victim once more and sneered, heading back out the door.

The woodened dark closed once more, returning the rabbit back into darkness. The only thing that brought him out of his subconscious world of pain was the mocking shine coming from the piece of metal he dropped onto the floor. He removed his shaking hands from the split skin off his skull and slowly crawled toward his only means of hope. The collar came up short once more, but he wanted going to let that stop him.

He pressed his paws against the wall, pushing him forward to his goal. The collar tightly gripped around his neck. The sharp edges had pushed deeply against him, splitting the skin and causing thin lines of blood to stain the fur on his chest. The blow suffered from his head made his vision twist and twirl. It made him close his eyes and drop his hands to the ground. He felt something unusually cold in the palm of his hand and he opened his eyes.

"Yes!" he whispered to himself in triumph. He curled back against the wall, hugging his only weapon to himself.

It was a shame that fox wasn't here to tell him what to do with it.

"Pst!"

The rabbit opened his eyes again, looking up and seeing his normal window was blocked by a red body.

"You got the scalpel? Good."

They stared at each other for a while, no words exchanged.

"Who are you?" the rabbit finally asked him.

The fox tilted his head a bit, twisting his ears.

"Foxy. Who are you?"

The rabbit clenched onto the scalpel. It was his only means now of holding onto reality.

"Bonnie." he finally replied as the silence that loomed over them began to weigh too much.

"Bonnie….that's a nice name."

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