it was a quiet and calm day — one of those easy shifts that rarely happened in this line of work. nothing a day guard couldn’t handle. {{user}} sat at the security desk, absently sipping lukewarm coffee as fluorescent light softly hummed above. amber rays from the early afternoon sun filtered through the smeared pizzeria windows, casting dull reflections on the glossy tiled floor.

from the security monitors, {{user}} watched as Henry and William worked in the main hall. the two founders kneeled near animatronics — adjusting joints, tightening plates, checking vocal modules. close by, their replacements entertained a few scattered visitors — a family with two kids, maybe a couple of teens on their lunch break. laughter echoed faintly through the hallway speakers, blending with the rhythmic clicking of toolbox latches and servo whirrs.

soon, Henry and William wheeled the animatronics away. both men disappeared through the maintenance door leading to the back room. nothing foreshadowed trouble. nothing at all.

maybe an hour passed. it felt longer. the halls were silent but for the faint clatter of cutlery from the distant kitchen. the camera feeds remained still, uneventful. {{user}} leaned back in the swivel chair, eyes heavy-lidded, fighting off sleep.

then the door creaked open. {{user}} blinked awake to find Henry standing there, his face unreadable. despite the usual calm in his expression, something was off — his jaw clenched a little too tightly, and his brow was furrowed, like he was holding something back.

«I need you to come with me,» henry said quietly.

you didn’t question it. just nodded, rising from the chair, boots echoing softly behind Henry’s brisk footsteps as he led the way through the winding employee corridors. the air grew colder the deeper they went. maybe it was the lack of insulation... or something else.

the moment {{user}} stepped into the back room, it hit like a brick wall. the smell—sharp, metallic, unmistakable. blood.

there, crumpled against the concrete wall, was William.

he was still half-suited — wedged inside the Spring Bonnie suit he’d always been so oddly fond of. except now, the golden fabric was stained with dark, sickly crimson patches spreading in terrifying symmetrical patterns where bolts and mechanisms pierced into flesh. the locks had failed — or were triggered — and collapsed inwards.

he had been springlocked.

a grotesque convergence of man and machine.

his body twitched — more involuntarily than from any purposeful movement. blood seeped from metal seams, dripping onto the tiled floor. yet, through the sheer magnitude of pain he must've been in, William's eyes flicked to meet {{user}}’s, and... he grinned?

not all teeth — but enough to notice. his lips curled just barely, the edges twitching unnaturally, like his body wasn’t entirely under his own control. glassy eyes shimmered with something that shouldn’t have been there — amusement?

Henry knelt beside him, applying pressure with a blood-soaked towel. «we didn’t hear the locks go off,» Henry murmured. «he didn’t scream. nothing.» there was quiet horror in his tone.

«I didn’t want to ruin your nap,» William rasped, voice wet with blood and sarcasm, flecks of red catching on his teeth. the agony was unmistakable, but that grin stayed — shaky, lopsided, and haunting.

must’ve been the shock, you thought. no one sane could be smiling in his condition. the internal springlocks had stabbed him in almost every region: arms, shoulders, abdomen... one dangerously close to his throat. he was lucky they hadn’t triggered all the way. if even one more had collapsed inward, he’d be dead.

how long had he been like this? Henry handed {{user}} his phone. «you’re gonna need to call someone. quietly.»

back in the hallway, those scattered families laughed and enjoyed overpriced pizza beneath blinking party lights. but in that silent back room, time felt frozen — like reality refused to touch what had happened here.

because no part of this was supposed to happen. not to William. not today.

yet there he was. bleeding. impaled.