Vincent paced his cell. He felt oddly nervous. It was later that day, and he hadn't remembered much from when Foxy read him his rights. Just sitting in the back of the car, and passing through the precinct in a blur. They had told him what would happen, but he didn't listen. Suddenly, the holding cell grew dark. Turning, his throat went dry. The Springtrap suit phased through the wall, in an eerie ghostly glow. He backed up towards the door, trying to call for a guard, but he couldn't speak, only stare. The suit attacked him, he screamed in pain as the clamps dug into his skin, but no sound came out. He silently screamed, as the head of the suit clasped around him, and as the srpinglocks failed again and he was crushed. Vincent Afton was dead again. A dark figure in the corner clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. "You don't learn, do you? I guess some things just stay the same... No mater where you are."