wow ok wow, ff really. Also im going back to Springer because inspiration. I am in no way profiting from these, btw. I don't normally do disclaimers because it's painfully obvious that this piece o' trash don't own something so renown. I should also put a/n or something where theres actually an a/n. hmmm…
Springtrap woke to the sound of banging and drilling. When he felt his servos warm up enough, he walked to the room's door and struggled to open it. His hands could not bend – at least properly. Why was he so banged up? It was only a few days ago he remembers holding a microphone. Or was it a guitar? What was his last collected memory? Either way, he sure he was surrounded by people, by their cheers.
His hand left the doorknob in still silence. His further thought process was rendered when the door opened for him, and a man screamed before covering his face. "God damn, it wakes up on its own!? Get Fatman in here – geez, fuck…!"
Springtrap was a little surprised that the man screamed, even more so that he cursed. Springtrap wanted to tell on him for using such foul language. Foul language was never acceptable in—Wait, where was this? Diner… Pizzeria…? His memory bank had too little of too much he was sure of missing.
"Ah, Springtrap! The rest of your friends have arrived! Come! I'll show you around." Fazbear, as Springtrap clearly remembers him, pulled the animatronic to get him walking, and lead him down a few corridors. A light shone dominantly before they turned through the fourth hallway Springtrap arrived at.
"Oh! You've installed Foxy!" Fazbear seemed delighted, but Springtrap twitched. Some part of his leg pinched and he lifted it. Fazbear stared at him before he slowly put it down. "Foxy was always a company favorite. It's just a shame we had no more room for his being in the show." Fazbear continued down the hall, but Springtrap staid fast to the doorway, ignoring the men carrying a few crates of what looked like black tarp and wires. It was not before Springtrap was called had he seen a black doll hanging a few feet away. He did not sense anything as he did, so he trudged on, careful of his ears and the door frames.
"Here is where the night guard will be. Today he comes in, so I want you to be nice." Springtrap could feel his ears perk, but one did not quiet go all the way up. He raised a hand and a worker cleaning the room-length-long window visibly flinched. Fazbear paid no mind and went to talk about the contract for the night guard with an executive officer. Springtrap stared at his hand, as mangled and torn as it was. Consequently, he felt compelled to see himself entirely. He turned then, to leave the room, when he saw a large box of empty… heads. They were colorful, and shiny! Springtrap immediately forgot his initiative, and took to investigating the box.
For some odd reason, he reached for the guitar. When he held it, he could feel his joints realign to a position that was oddly familiar. He felt almost… happy to be holding it against his torn up belly.
"Ah-ah-ah! Springtrap, put it back. The colors may be too cute to use, but that is valuable!" Fazbear wagged a finger and watched as Springtrap placed the shiny red guitar back with care. Fazbear then lead Springtrap out of the office and back to the parts and services room. "Now, go to sleep, and wait until eleven, fifty, five." He said slowly, allowing Springtrap to set an auto-boot for that time. "I do want you to get to walk around and remember your surroundings. It would not hurt to… introduce yourself, to your night guard."
Springtrap edged away from the man with much regard to his enthusiasm. Something about Mr. Fazbear had Springtrap silently processing a million explanations for such behavior, but all showed to be anxiousness, invigorated euphoria, or perhaps just bouts of bliss. He could still swear Mr. Fazbear was more than just a capital slave to the riches and profits of… whatever they were doing.
True, the building was darkened and full of drab clutter, but what was really being put into the building was unknown to Springtrap. Hell, he still did not know why he had many view points to a singular thought, let alone why things changed upon the recollected thought. Fazbear manually turned Springtrap off via the switch below his segmented torso, and he drifted into his trance like sleep-state.
Baaaaaah, still lame. FF takes out my symbols for the a/n's! stupid FF. /cries. Also, I realized that the first Springer part was glitched the heck out because I wrote it in the copy/paste file. Word was not working for me so I just typed up stuff there. Yeah, blah, excuses.