I sat at my workbench, both hands clutching my head, elbows firmly planted on the table. The frustration was boiling over, and it had been hours since Freddy, the bear, had come to offer his help—a gesture I promptly rejected. I was building a new suit for myself, a suit that should have been the culmination of my work over the past two years. But it refused to function. The parts were nearly complete, the mechanisms meticulously assembled, yet it stubbornly remained inert.
"Why won't the damn thing work?" I growled, slamming my fist onto the workbench. The impact sent my tools skittering across the surface, a chaotic symphony of metal clattering against metal. "Come on, William. Think," I muttered to myself, my voice a blend of desperation and anger.
I knew it wasn't the parts or the suit itself. I had crafted them with precision, every wire and gear perfectly in place. It wasn't the souls either. I had harnessed the restless spirits of those who had descended into madness—the Nightmares, the Twisted Ones, and many others. Their energy should have been more than sufficient to power the suit.
"Could it need more souls?" I pondered aloud, my mind racing through the possibilities. But I knew I couldn't harvest more souls from the other animatronics. They were already suspicious, especially Cassidy. If I tried, they would undoubtedly band together and attack me. Even in my enhanced state, the odds were not in my favor.
"Could it be my soul?" The thought struck me like a lightning bolt. My own soul was tainted, corrupted by years of unspeakable acts. Could that be the missing piece? "Son of a bitch, why is this so fucking complicated?" I shouted, slamming both fists down on the workbench, causing it to tremble under the force.
I stood up abruptly, pacing the confined space of my workshop. The walls seemed to close in on me, the air thick with the scent of molten metal and frustration. I had to figure this out. I couldn't let all this work be for nothing. The suit was supposed to be my redemption, my way of transcending the limitations of my current form. But it required something more, something I hadn't yet grasped.
I paused in front of a cracked mirror, staring at my own reflection. The twisted visage of Springtrap stared back at me, a grotesque reminder of my failures and sins. "What am I missing?" I whispered to my reflection, hoping for an answer that never came.
As the hours dragged on, I meticulously reviewed every component, every wire, every soul fragment. I couldn't afford to miss anything. My hands moved with mechanical precision, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and theories. The other animatronics were likely discussing my latest outburst, but I couldn't afford to care. This was my journey, my burden to bear.
"Maybe it's not the souls," I mused, leaning back on my stool. "Maybe it's not the parts either. Maybe it's me." The realization was both terrifying and liberating. If the missing piece was a part of me that I had long buried, then I would have to confront it. But how? How could I access the deepest, darkest parts of my soul and channel them into the suit?
The answer was elusive, hiding in the shadows of my mind. But I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn't stop until I figured it out. The suit was my salvation, and I would do whatever it took to bring it to life. Even if it meant facing the darkest corners of my own soul.