He thought the message was clear: they weren't wanted anymore.
Looking back, he supposed they hadn't even been wanted in their prime. Their designs were ugly, he didn't deny this, and occasionally they frightened the children, which was the opposite of their job.
They were just another fluke produced by the company, a hit or miss.
There was nothing left for them; they had long since outlived their purpose. It would have been less of an insult, if the company had thrown them out altogether. But no. He and the others were dumped in a small, dark room and used as spare parts for their replacements. His pride had never been so wounded.
He sat there in that room, slumped against the wall and defeated. The technician came in, all silent and business-like, and removed his face and upper jaw. If the human-sized animatronic bunny hadn't looked terrifying enough before, then he certainly did now with the mess of crackling wires hanging in his hollowed-out head and the two gleaming red spots where his eyes used to be.
His left arm was next to go. The more they took away, the more his innards were exposed. His suit was already wearing away, and with them picking him apart, he would soon be reduced to nothing. He welcomed that thought. Anything was better than the his current hell. Anything was better than the child's spirit that haunted and compelled him to move against his will and his body's ability.
As he stalked down the long hallway, he could hear a faint, tinny voice: "Uh, by now I'm sure you've noticed the older models sitting in the back room… They shouldn't be able to move." No, they weren't. The creaking and groaning of his rusty joints attested to this, but it wasn't as if he'd decided to get up and go for a midnight stroll throughout the restaurant.
The warm light from the night guard's office spilled into the opposite end of the hall and drew the animatronic in like a moth.
Bonnie paused at the entrance, still cloaked in darkness, warring with the child's spirit. Please, don't make me do this…
The night guard started and fumbled for something within his desk, a flashlight, and then shined its light down the hall where Bonnie's hulking form stood. The man froze in place.
Don't just sit there, the animatronic dismayed. Run away, crawl into the vents - do something!
The child's spirit commanded him, and he grudgingly stepped forward, closer and closer, until he was towering over the guard at his desk. He reached out with his remaining arm, grasping the man by his neck and lifted him with ease. His wires crackled and popped, and his endoskeleton twitched and jerked as he fought for control, but in the end the child overpowered him. All the while, the man made futile attempts to free himself, clawing and scraping against the animatronic's metal hand.
It was no use.
A sickening crunch rang out, and the man went limp. Satisfied, the child let both of them drop to the floor like a pair of discarded playthings, taking its presence elsewhere. Bonnie looked on in abject horror as the former guard crumpled to the floor in a heap of limbs, lifeless and gray. He cried out, his broken voice box producing only a harsh, metallic sound.
If they didn't hurry up and dismantle him, he'd find a way to do it himself.