Standby mode disengaged.
Costume_protocol engaged.
Disengaging costume_protocol.
Engaging animatronic_protocol.
Several soft creaks sung in harmony as the pieces coiled out, taking place in their original positions. A series of snaps and clicks followed soon after as the endoskeleton reformed.
Auto update date and time: 11/13/1993 12:09:21am
Uploading Fredbear_Pizza14062 map.
Activating internal camera.
Retrying character information.
Character information: unidentified.
Retrying...
A gray ceiling came into view, with shelves on either side. Slowly, the animatronic pushed itself up into a sitting position, the rusty joints creaking and moaning as the metal twisted into place. Its legs and feet came into view on the table.
The internal gyro calibrated to the new position, and slowly, its head turned, taking a look at its surroundings. Several masks stood on the shelves around them, their facial recognition activating upon seeing each one.
Animatronic detected.
Character Designation: Bonnie the Bunny
Character Designation: Freddy Fazbear
Character Designation: Freddy Fazbear
Character Designation: Bonnie the Bunny
Character Designation: Chica the Chicken
Its old eyelids came down in a stalled blink.
The animatronic glanced down at the table it sat on, at its metal slotted feet. The sight of them brought up a few seconds of an old video file:
[ERROR]/31/19[ERROR] 02:11:06pm
It saw its feet ahead, sitting just like it was now.
Only in this image, strange red oil surrounded it in a puddle, slowly leaking over black and white tiles.
ERROR: Corrupted data.
Attempting to retrieve.
Retrieval processing.
The file closed out, leaving it staring at the dusty table once more.
Character information: found.
Character Designation: Spring Bonnie.
Her robotic ears twitched suddenly, mimicking a rabbit listening for a predator, though all of it was for show. Like the rest of the animatronics, her actual "ears" were microphones located near the eyes to better catch the sounds through the mask. Footsteps caught her attention, as did a faint musical chime.
Engaging entertainment protocol.
Running sound_location.
Spring Bonnie pushed herself from the table with remarkable ease, then paused for a moment. She turned her head to listen for more sounds, and heard voices.
Faint, indistinguishable voices, but unmistakably human.
Engaging sound_location.
Spring Bonnie turned to the open door in the far corner away from her, needing to find the guests. She ignored the character heads staring at her. The Bonnies and Chicas and Freddies all silently watched her, and she paid them no heed. The light from the dining room served as a beacon as she stepped out of the backstage room.
Mike quickly changed views, looking for the decrepit old Bonnie. Nothing by the stage, nothing in the dining room, at the bathrooms, or by Pirate Cove.
"Fuck, where is it?"
Vanna remained on guard at the right door.
"Which one?" she asked, running her flashlight over the tiles to check for purple paws and orange chicken feet.
"The yellow one. The old Bonnie."
Vanna turned to him for a brief second.
"Nothing's come up this way yet."
She resumed her search, adding torn, golden legs with metal feet to her list. Mike checked every view, then shut off the monitor. He scooped up his flashlight and shot the beam down the west hall, checking the corner first. When nothing came into view, he ducked back into the office.
"Bastard must be in a blind spot," he muttered, going back to his seat to do a quick check of the cameras.
"Well, it's active now," Vanna said, keeping her voice down so it wouldn't echo down the hall. "Sooner or later, one of us will find it."
Entering Fredbear_Room_1.
Detecting obstacles.
Updating map.
Her internal microphones picked up a soft whirring sound as she entered the dining room. Spring Bonnie looked up and saw a small red light blinking just over the stage. The device hosting the little blinking light moved back and forth. She froze, watching it curiously. The sound stopped as the light on the device suddenly turned off.
Almost as soon as it did, Chica wandered out of the room, quickly stepping toward the kitchen. Once she left her sight, Spring Bonnie listened for the voices again, finding that objective more important. The updated map allowed her to turn and avoid walking into the side stage at Pirate Cove as she approached the west hallway.
"...in a blind spot."
"Well, it's active now. Sooner or later, one of us will find it."
Sound_location activated.
Locating guests.
Entering Fredbear_West_Hall.
To the left, a soft, blue-gray glow shone from a window and an open door frame. To the right, several drawings hung, tacked to the wall - a catalogue of the restaurant's daytime activities.
New items detected.
Updating map.
New voices detected.
Updating sound files.
The voices originated from near the window. Spring Bonnie turned, peering inside. Neither human seemed to detect her presence. One of them sat at the desk, watching a screen of sorts. The other stood near the door on the other side.
"Where could it have gone?" the standing human asked.
"It has to be here somewhere," the other one replied. "Let me check again."
New item detected.
Updating map.
The standing human kept looking out the other door. The opposite window lit up with a bright beam of light each time the human leaned out into the hallway, revealing some of the posters hanging on the other side. The human leaned back into the room, the monitor's glow lighting up their face just long enough for Spring Bonnie's software to make a scan.
Facial recognition engaged.
Auto update date and time: 11/13/1993 12:13:04am
Uploading known database.
Searching…
No files found.
Updating database.
Checking facial parameters.
Cataloguing…
Her software took in every detail of this new human, from the color of the eyes and flesh, to the length of the nose and the width of the lips. A final scan determined the human to be a female, late twenties, with no previous record of ever being on the property.
Spring Bonnie then looked down at the other one. Even just the profile of the human picked up a scan.
Facial recognition engaged.
I'm sorry I brought you here.
Scanning...
I never meant to make you sad.
Database search complete.
3 files found.
07/15/1983 02:07:16pm, he brought his younger, curly-haired companion to the game alcove.
07/15/1983 02:22:04pm, he peeked out from that same alcove and met Spring Bonnie's gaze, allowing her software to get a better picture of his face.07/15/1983 02:28:46pm, his hand hung from Fredbear's mouth.
Spring Bonnie closed the files almost as soon as they came up, not needing to play them again. Even though a decade passed since those files were recorded, and even with the lower quality of the video, several facial markers remained the same: the same blue eyes, black hair, and pale skin, the same distance between the eyes, the length of the nose, the shape of the lips.
Doesn't this place make you happy?
Spring Bonnie reached her right hand for the window, towards both humans. The broken tips of her fingers scratched against the glass, catching both humans' attention. The human female quickly aimed her flashlight up into the window where she stood. Spring Bonnie's microphones picked up her voice.
"Fuck, Mike, we just found it!"
Mike.
She knew that name.
With this second voice clip from the human female, Spring Bonnie automatically assigned the first one she took a moment ago to her profile. The other human, Mike, quickly got up from his seat. He ran over to the wall, just out of sight of the window. His partner kept her flashlight up at the window, making it difficult for Spring Bonnie to pick out much more as her right hand rested against the glass.
In the bright glow, something round gleamed at Spring Bonnie's wrist. For a brief second, her entire hand looked...different.
Whole.
A smooth, unbroken cover stretched over her endoskeleton, with no metal shining from between each individual joint. A dark sleeve hung over her arm, with the strange circular gleam held at her wrist by an old strap of some sort.
Clang!
Spring Bonnie yanked her hand from the glass as she stepped back in surprise. Her microphones picked up a small clattering sound among the residual echoes of the clang, like something fell. She turned to the right, where the loud clang came from. The second sound was quickly forgotten as Spring Bonnie noticed the entrance to the room was now blocked with a large metal slab.
A look back in the window showed the bright beam still intact, with both humans looking at her warily. Curiously, she moved over to the door, and upon finding no way to move it, wandered back to the window, tilting her head a bit to get out of the direct glare of the flashlight.
She better caught Mike's face now. The night guard's eyes widened in horror, but simultaneously remained curious, with his lower lip just shy of being caught in his teeth. The expression triggered something in Spring Bonnie's mind, something beyond her data files and processing memory.
I never meant to leave you.
The words played over in her processors as Spring Bonnie reached for the glass again. Something in the other door caught the female human's attention, faint footsteps that her microphones barely picked up. The flashlight beam left the glass, leaving only the glow from the monitor casting any light.
It allowed Spring Bonnie to see something in the glass, a brief glimpse of a decrepit old rabbit.
A rabbit with blue eyes.
Human eyes.
The sight startled her away from the window. Spring Bonnie quickly turned away, now heading for the dining room. Her servos shook as she walked, making her metal body twitch and sputter.
...I'm sorry, she thought. ...I can't.
The metallic clank of footsteps echoed from the west hall. From under one of the tables, it peered out into the dining room to locate the source of the sound. Spring Bonnie came into the room, her creaking joints and old servos even more audible than Foxy's.
The Puppet watched the decaying animatronic wander over to the stage, her gyro barely keeping her upright with her shaky walk. Spring Bonnie glanced up at Freddy, taking him in for a moment before she turned into the hallway where she was found. Even from here, the Puppet caught Spring Bonnie turning into the partition that led into the bathrooms. It then glanced back toward the stage, looking up at the dining room camera. It picked out the little red light that told it the security guard and his companion were watching. Once the light turned off, the Puppet slithered under the tables where it knew Mike and Vanna wouldn't see.
One after another, it raced through the tables, the white cloth fluttering and marking its location, but it gave this little thought. The Puppet moved beyond the camera's sight, now in front of the stage, before it slinked over to the right. It waited, making sure the bathroom camera remained off and still, before it moved to the partition.
A bit of noise from the boys' bathroom marked the rabbit's location. The Puppet slipped behind the partition, listened for the sound of the camera, then headed inside to follow.
Spring Bonnie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, at the decrepit animatronic looking back. Years of age and decay took their toll, with several rips and tears along the once-gold suit. The old cloth had especially torn around her eyes and mouth, and insects and degradation ate away at the outside, leaving numerous holes that showed the rusted endoskeleton underneath. Many places over the suit showed distinct discoloration. The top bisect of her right ear had long since been broken, and her wide open eyes revealed silver disks, where a human could once look through when worn as a mask.
This isn't my face.
She searched her memory bank and uploaded the images of her correct design: a tall, golden rabbit with large green eyes and long lashes. She wore a purple bow around her right ear, and a matching bow tie at her neck. A long time ago, she saw herself reflected back through the windows in Fredbear's Family Diner, with children around her as she sang onstage.
Back when she was still new and pristine.
Back when her color shone gold.
Back when she was still beloved by children.
Spring Bonnie reached for the mirror, her worn, thick fingers touching the glass before her. Her reflection mirrored her movements, mirrored how she stood in front of the empty stalls behind her, her robotic ears twitching with curiosity, her head carefully tilting to the side.
This isn't my face.
The words played on loop in her processors. Here she stood, gazing at her reflection, and yet, this didn't compute. The image before her sputtered and glitched, her aged internal camera in dire need of repair.
But still, she saw the face before her.
Spring Bonnie leaned closer, trying to make the image change. Tried to make it match the face she once saw reflected in the window. Tried to make it match the uploaded design buried in her databank.
What has been done to me?
But no matter her efforts, the distorted face stared back, the cloth edges of the mouth torn to reveal white plastic teeth, the rips around the eyes starting to expose the metal endoskeleton skull.
What have I become?
Something appeared in front of her then, an outline of sorts. Spring Bonnie only saw it for a second, but it looked...human.
And one she knew.
She stared at her reflection, her vision occasionally shifting and glitching to white noise as she tried to bring up the outline again. To try to place the human's face to one in her databank.
Something moved in the shadows behind her, slinking out from one of the dark stalls. Spring Bonnie paid it no heed, still more focused on trying to summon the image of the human. To place a name to that face.
Searching…
Data inaccessible.
Two pinprick lights shone in the mirror, and in the shadows, they only revealed the outlines of the eyes, two slits staring back from the dark.
You know why I found you, came a voice.
Spring Bonnie turned upon hearing the words. She looked over at the tall, spindly figure. Her night vision adjusted, then picked out a tall, thin outline, with three large white buttons centered within it.
You know why I brought you back after all these years,
it said.
The figure leaned closer, its white face tinged with green, the ends of its wide smile touching the little red circles on its cheeks.
Only you have the answers. Only you can help us.
Spring Bonnie lifted her one good ear curiously. She tilted her head and blinked once to acknowledge the creature's presence. The Puppet lifted a long, slender hand, to gently clasp the old rabbit's shoulder.
You know what must be done.
Its fingers tightened, and the pinprick lights in its eyes flashed.
He will come back. He always does.
Spring Bonnie stood at attention then, recording this information.
We have a place for him, the Puppet continued.
It grasped her other shoulder and tilted its head.
We will have our justice.
The lights in its eyes dimmed, and it leaned forward a little more. The Puppet released one clawed hand and gently ran it over Spring Bonnie's head in a careful, affectionate gesture. In that moment, its permanent smile held a tinge of sorrow, heightened by the purple streaks painted down its face.
And so will you.
The Puppet released its hold and floated backwards to give its companion some space. It then reached behind its back, its fingers locating the thin seam that kept the costume in place on its thin endoskeleton. Slowly, it pushed two of its thin fingers through a small gap there, then dug around until it found what wanted. The Puppet pulled out an old, thick piece of paper - bent and creased in a few places, with the edges worn down. It held it up for Spring Bonnie to see it.
A photograph.
Spring Bonnie gazed at it, adjusting to see it properly. The Puppet waited, letting the animatronic activate her software and take in the faces depicted on the photograph.
Do you know them?
Spring Bonnie stared, the old LEDs in the back of her endoskeleton flickering as she scanned it and committed the photograph to memory. She tried to blink when she finished, her eyelids stalling and unable to complete the motion. When they lifted properly, she slowly pulled up a hand.
Only her index finger extended, pointing to one of the subjects.
Mike, she said.
The Puppet nodded, then turned the picture around to look at it. It gently ran its fingers over the unnamed subject.
You do not recall the other, it said quietly.
Spring Bonnie slowly shook her head.
They were both special to you, the Puppet said, simply. Try to remember.
It looked back up at Spring Bonnie, holding up the picture once more for the old animatronic to take in, to properly capture.
It happened this night, it said, six years ago. ...Perhaps you should start there.
Spring Bonnie nodded, then looked back to the mirror, staring blankly at the smooth glass. The Puppet lingered nearby as the older animatronic's processors whirred and started a search in her database for files dated November 13, 1987.