The stage was quiet, curtains drawn halfway like a show unfinished. Dim emergency lighting bathed everything in dull red, shadows stretching long and thin across the worn floorboards. The robotic bunny stood just left of center, towering over the edge of the platform with a slack grip on his chipped red guitar.

His head was tilted. Not thoughtfully, not curiously, just... off. Wrong. Like something had started to move but never finished the command. His blank white eyes stared ahead, unblinking, unfocused, wide open. They caught the red light in just the wrong way, glassy and lifeless.

His legs remained locked in position, knees bent slightly like he’d taken a step forward and then decided against it. One ear was crooked, flopped unnaturally, the internal servo clearly stuck. The bowtie at his neck had come unfastened on one side, dangling like a limp ribbon.

His guitar, long since silenced, hung low. One hand twitched around the neck of it once, a dry metallic click echoing into the emptiness. Then nothing. No movement. No sound.

The faint static hum of the stage’s aging speakers died abruptly. All the tiny noises; circuit whines, servo groans, joint tension, faded. Bonnie’s expression didn’t change. It never did. It couldn't.