She tried to resist. She was clawing franticly at his unyielding fingers. It was not enough. She was not enough. His hand wrapped around the width of her neck effortlessly and they made eye contact. Her brown eyes pleaded desperately for mercy, for salvation. Her gaze was met with his own steely indifference. He was not moved by her plight for survival; his grip did not slack. Instead, he slowly began to twist his wrist to the side, bending her neck. She whimpered in pain.

The sound jolted through his body, and he tilted his head to the side to examine her. Sweat beaded on her forehead and damped her hair. She was weak with exhaustion but still tried to fight. She was but a shell of a true living being, something to be thrown away. He grew irked; she was his prize but she wasn't worth the hunt. She was not enough.

Bored, he continued to bend her neck until…

Snap.

There.

Her movement ceased. Her stare continued, only now, it was through him. It was not enough.

He reveled in what small glimmers of glory her unremarkable kill could provide, examining her lifeless body and all-knowing eyes. He sighed, his shoulders slouching. He turned towards the office desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a pen and a wrinkled piece of paper. Uncrumpling the paper and smoothing it out, he thought about what to say. His ear twitched in thought and after a few moments, he found a fitting note. His hands shook in effort of such a delicate task as writing.

Carefully and deliberately, he wrote:

"Another one. But more life, more fire, more reward."

He tossed the note on the dead girl's body and left the room without a second glance. He trudged to the back of his domain, to the darkest corner. The light was mute here, almost like it avoided it. It avoided his throne. Apathetically, he sighed, and sunk into the darkness, sitting on the floor.

They would find her - whatever her name was, it eluded him. They would be angry. They would try to hurt him again, but they had already forcefully removed that body from his insides, what more could they do? They would do what he said. They would search the herd for the softest, smartest lamb they could find. And they would bring that lamb to him; to the snarling, raging wolf with the blood-stained fur and snapping jaws.

He hoped for a better hunt. He tried to sleep through his annoyance and cravings, although he found it difficult.

In the morning, the cleaning crew came. He heard them fighting to open the door, and the pitter-patter of feet and then what he was waiting for: Gasps of horror and profanities littering the air. They didn't even check the girl for signs of life, they made a straight bee line for him.

Springtrap scoffed and shook his head; and he was considered the only monster here?

They were approaching quickly and he braced himself for the onslaught of questions.

"What the fuck is your problem Springtrap?!" a voice boomed as it rounded the corner. Springtrap simply looked up at the door where the man would soon be appearing.

Sure enough, a group of 3 men gathered in the doorway, all visibly angered and worried. Springtrap lowered his chin closer to his chest, maintained eye contact and opened and closed his jaw, acting dumbing.

"ANSWER ME." The man in the middle demanded, the stress of his job evident in his face. Springtrap tilted his head, taunting them with his immovable silence and apathetic attitude. He clicked his jaw once more.

The leader of the group went ballistic, his thinly veiled patience faltering and rage replacing it.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE? YOU'VE SIGNED THE FUCKING DEATH CERTIFICATE ON THIS COMPANY, YOU DERANGED FUCK."

The other two men instinctively shrunk away from the other, unconsciously trying to disassociate themselves with the threat. Springtrap's ear twitched. The hum of his grinding gears softly spread through the air before Springtrap's body rose. He was slow but sure footed and heavy. He rose from the dirty, aged tile floor and sized up the man. He stepped in front of him, the man now backing away from the 7-foot towering animatronic.

Springtrap sniffed the air, the predator inside on a very loose leash. His eyes slowly combed over the man once more, almost sexual and raw. They finally fell on the man's own eyes and Springtrap purred,

"You'd make for a good hunt," Springtrap glanced at his name tag, "Paul. Large, well built. Lots of blood pumping in you, lots of blood you can lose."

The blood drained from Paul's face. His throated seized and his tongue flapped in his mouth, unable to form clear words. Springtrap tilted his good ear towards Paul's face, taunting him again.

"Hm? Speak up, Paul, I can't hear you quite as well as I could before." Paul tried to shake away the fear and replace it with a mask of authority. He looked the robot in the eye, unflinching.

"I hope your sick fucking game was worth it. We will close after this, there's no doubt about it. The second murder in half a year? Oh yeah. You think life in this box is rough? Good luck with auctioneers. You will be scrap metal. Enjoy your last day of freedom, fuckface."

Paul turned away and headed out the doorway, the other two men following close behind. Springtrap chuckled darkly, a front no doubt, but inside anxiety dripped into his wiring. He was too old to be used in business, and not with a reputation like his. Was his addiction, his urges, to be his suicide? He didn't know. He turned to his now seemingly pathetic throne, taking the position for perhaps the last time. He could over hear Paul on the phone, going back and forth. In the last snippet of the conversation before the men left, Springtrap heard Paul say, "Yeah the fucking robot did it again. We need to pack up and leave town by tomorrow morning. Call Johnny so we can start dismantling shit."

. . . . .

Alexander took a long drag out of his cigarette. He exhaled the smoke out in the dry Arizona air. The Sun was screaming in the sky overhead, relentless and angry. He sighed, flicked the rest of the cig on the ground and crushed it with his foot. He walked back into the humble shed that he professed to be a workshop. All around were scattered half-done machines, flashes of inspiration that never saw the finish line. Alex hadn't completed any one machine in a long time. The only complete robot there was a little frog he built named Pete. He walked over to the sturdy work bench and leaned over it, looking at his latest blueprint. Pete greeted him by doing two back flips and ribbiting. He smiled at Pete, even though the action was motion activated, the greeting still felt genuine. Alex needed a sales pitch. He built robots targeting children and really needed the next one to hit it off with the right people and the right company. His next project was a humanoid wolf, he just needed the frame. To build an animatronic would be too time consuming and difficult from scratch, he needed to look for parts. Alex sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

Interrupting his stress, was the reason he kept building. Isabella.

Her olive skin was warm and smooth, her dark brown curls loosely falling like water down her shoulders. Her smile was welcoming and genuine. Her honey brown eyes had a light in them that no one could extinguish. She glided over to him, placing a hand affectionately on the small of his back and setting a plate in front of him. She made him a sandwich for lunch. Alex looked down at the sandwich and chuckled. He lifted the top slice of bread and peeked underneath. Sure enough, there was a smiley face painted in mustard on the bread. He shook his head and smiled, turning to his love.

"Thank you. I needed this." He said, pulling her closer and kissing her forehead.

"I figured as much." She smiled back at him and booped the tip of his nose with her finger. "And I have something else even better."

"Hm, what's that?"

Isabella backed up and pulled him by his hand. She threw her head back towards their car and smiled, "Come on."

Alex smiled and nodded, wiping his oil-stained hands on a rag and throwing it on the bench. He followed her and they piled into the car together.

The Arizona heat was threatening to burst their old Jeep into flames without warning. It was dry and piercing. The old Jeep kicked up dust as they drove further from the city more into the desert. Soon enough though, they reached a very familiar spot.

Bill's Junk and Salvage Yard.

They exited the car and Alex threw Isabella a questioning look. She brought one finger to her lips and smiled. They crossed the sand yard to the cramped 'office.' Isabella gave a light knock on the door and a huge, gruff looking man answered. His undershirt was stained with grease and oil and had some holes. His jeans were of similar condition and his face wasn't spared either.

"Hey Bill, why don't you show Alex his new project?" Isabella asked charmingly.

The intimating man smirked. "You're a lucky one, 'Lex, I'll tell you what. Come 'round back."

Alexander was still vastly confused but complied, traversing the junked cars and broken soda machines and old TV's to Bill's shed. He kept the most valuable/fixable things there. Isabella and Alexander stopped in front of the shed, while Bill walked inside and opened the door. While the door clinked and clicked from Bill, Isabella wrapped her hands around Alex's tricep and squeezed, clearly excited. Alex just grinned and rubbed her fingers. She was always doing little things like this, it was one of the reasons he fell in love with her to begin with. Finally, the door opened. Dust flew into the air, the cloud making it difficult to peer inside. Alex squinted his eyes in an effort to see. Eventually though, the dust settled and Alex's jaw dropped.

There it was.

A 7-foot-tall, decayed but salvageable animatronic rabbit. It's faded yellow fur was patched and rotten, and the ear was broken, but it was standing, which mean the endoskeleton was there. The structure of his project was right there, all he had to do was polish it. He turned to Isabella and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you so much, baby. This is incredible." He spoke into her hair. She hummed and hugged him back.

"Well come on, let's get him home." Bill and Alex loaded the robot into the back of the old Jeep, struggling to find a way to fit it in comfortably. Eventually they had to sit it crisscross in the back. Isabella assisted by opening the rear window so "the bunny could see the city."

Once they were home, Alex immediately wanted to see what he was dealing with. They got the bunny onto the bed dolly and wheeled it to the workshop. It sat slack on dolly, its leg flopped over the side and mouth ajar. It was pretty scary looking but with the right care, Alex was sure he could get it in working order. This was exactly what he needed.

Author's note: Hey guys! This is my second Springtrap story, I'm trying to get the feeling right for this one. Your feed back is much appreciated, it's what motivates me to keep the next chapter. J If you find any spelling/grammatical errors, please let me know.