"YOU. VISITED. THE. OLD. ANIMATRONICS. LAST. NIGHT. DIDN'T. YOU," said The Mangle, hanging from the ceiling in front of The Marionette.
It looked up. You weren't in Sleep Mode?
"I. WAS. TRYING. TO. BUT. IT. IS. HARD. TO. SLEEP. WITH. MISTER. ENDOSKELETON'S. CHATTERING," The Mangle ' second head lowered a bit, as if it were ashamed to be stuck on the same neck as a ventriloquist dummy of a fox.
What's wrong with visiting the older models? They seem to like you more than the other Toys.
"OF. COURSE. THEY. DO. I'M. THE. ONLY. TOY. ANIMATRONIC. WHO. IS. PLEASED. TO. BE. SCRAPPED," the fox head replied. Her voice was made up of multiple different voices, since all she could do now was listen and record whatever she was told. Very hard business with a second head constantly spewing garbled static. The Mangle stared at The Marionette's music box, which had just been wound up a bit more by the night guard. "YOU. STILL. HAVE. THAT. THING."
Of course I do. I need it.
"THE. FACT. THAT. YOU. NEED. IT. MAKES. YOU. LOOK. LIKE. A. BOMB. WAITING. TO. GO. OFF."
That's exactly what I am, in a technical sense. The Marionette watched the crane unwind.
The Mangle swung back, then slowly began to ride the ceiling cables towards the night guard's office. It ramrod into a wall, causing "Mister Endoskeleton"'s only good eye to fall off. Their depth perception was already bad, so neither complained even a little as they moved along.
For a while, everything in the Prize Corner was silent. The only thing anyone could hear was the music box's clanking and humming and the occasional, "NO WAY, SCRAP HEAP," from Jeremy's room.
Then they showed up.
The Toy Band.
Three beautiful and neat animatronics had suddenly united and popped up beside The Marionette.
A chicken resembling Chica had circles for cheeks and was apparently anorexic. She only ate cupcakes, making her too fake for the adults and too amazing for young girls.
A blue bunny with large green eyes wore too much makeup. The eyeshadow, long eyelashes and rosy cheeks looked more unrealistic than the entire chicken.
The bear was almost carbon copy of Freddy, but cleaner and more friendly. Like everyone else, he had the trademark cheeks. He was rather flat, too, and looked like porcelain.
"Hello, there, kid!" said the bunny. Her sweet and human-like voice was almost the most sickening thing about her. "I'm Bonnie Bunny! These are my pals, Freddy and Chica!"
Why was she introducing herself again? Even if she was pure AI and nothing more, couldn't she at least remember her own coworker's face?
Simple. She was reminding him: This is what they've become to children. Old Bonnie? He's not cool. He's like a loved teddy bear, thrown away to make room for the one that makes sounds.
The Marionette did not like them.
Hello, I'm, uh, Jack! I saw a suspicious man hiding in the office! He might be a criminal! the Marionette lied. A repeat of every night. The old animatronics kill the human out of jealousy and the new ones try taking out the "criminal". As much as The Marionette hated the name "Jack", it was too fun to watch the new and old era try doing the same thing and see who gets to him first. It was its equivalent of sports.
The Toy Animatronics gasped their fake prerecorded gasp and trudged to the office. Toy Bonnie took the vent nearby and accidentally kicked Toy Chica's beak off. The robotic critter's eyes suddenly became black for some reason, like Toy Freddy's did.
In a stereotypical blond voice, Toy Chica chirped, "Let's go, like, keep the pizza parlor safe and stuff! Kill the criminal!"
The Toys were off, just in time. Five hours and they were home free.
The garbled radio noises were interrupted when The Mangle saw Freddy in the office, staring straight at her in the vent.
"FREDDY. WHAT. HAPPENED. TO. THE. WATCHMAN," she beeped.
Freddy shrugged.
The Mangle went reluctantly back through the vent, which is difficult in a tight space while going backwards in the dark in a haunted pizza parlor. After a moment, she and her extra head were gone. "Freddy" took off his mask.
Looking up from his tablet, he had the pleasure of seeing a red Foxy sitting in front of his door. He stumbled with the flashlight he held in his other hand like a hot coal, then flickered it on and off like a disco light. The fox stared past the human for a while, blinking away the lights, then finally stumbled away blindly. The guard sighed with relief.
He flickered through the monitor, winding up the music box with a remote. But he knew he was forgetting something.
"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, Jeremy!"
The guard hissed at his stupidity and swiveled around in his chair. A "little boy" had yanked away his flashlight and mask, then fought with him over the monitor and remote.
The boy, sporting a propeller cap and a buttoned, red-and-blue striped shirt like a clown, held his sign ("Balloons!") and a balloon in his other hand. He wasn't too different from the Toy animatronics.
The boy leaned foward, "How are you?"
"Whaddaya want, BB?" Jeremy snapped back.
"I'm just trying to strike up a conversation with my frieeeeeeeend," warbled BB. He sounded like the stereotypical creepy child in a horror movie, talking in a monotonous voice and putting emphasis on certain syllables. "You stare at those screens aaaaaall day and wear a mask! Are you scared of sunliiiiiight? Shouldn't you be outsiiiiiiide, playing with uuuuuus?"
Jeremy lunged for his things, but BB was too quick. He hissed at the animatronic boy, "I go outside in a few more hours. Give me back my stuff."
BB shook his head with a creepy, proud smile. Jeremy could swear he heard more movement than before from the hall, and the music box was reaching the end of it's tune.
"Ninety years without slumbering,
tick-tick-tick-tick,
His life's seconds numbering,
tick-tick-tick-tick. . ."
Not ready to see whatever horror occurred if he didn't wind up the music box, Jeremy got up shakily and reached for the electronics and mask. BB looked more like a jerk than ever, pulling it away once more.
BB smirked, "What do we say?"
"It stopped short. . ."
"Please," demanded the watchman forcefully.
"Never to go again. . ."
"Aww. . . You're no fun. . ." Displeased, BB tossed the items back when suddenly the lights flickered. He was gone when they came back on.
"When the old man died. . ."
Jeremy had probably set a world record in speed when he wound the music box back up. He checked on the Prize Corner. Nothing seemed out of place, except for the grinning, black, puppet-like creature in a gift box, but that was always there.
He checked the top of the monitor. 1:37 AM. It was going to be a long night.