Grey storm clouds swirl overhead as the tall city buildings tower over the narrow alley way that Foxy had been left to rot for the past fifteen years. Rain poured down onto the animatronic, somewhat cleaning him of the mold and filth that had accumulated on him over the years. Foxy sat there, lying amongst the garbage and waste. His lifeless body only a husk of what it used to be. He couldn't move, or think, or hear, or speak. He could only lie there and whither away.