William Afton clenched his fists, studying his own hands for a moment then looking toward the medical monitors in the corner. “I feel that my time is running short.” He looked toward Carlton thoughtfully, but Carlton was still lying on the floor, motionless. “That’s unfortunate,” he growled. “I hoped to learn something. But maybe that’s not the problem.” He looked toward the metal table. “Maybe we just need some new life in this mass of metal.” He smiled at the little blond boy, who recoiled and tried to scoot away, though he was already as close to the wall as he could get. “You’ll have to forgive me, though, as I’m not sure how to do that, either.” William took steps toward him. “I can think of a few things to try. At the very least, it will be fun; like old times.” His lips peeled back, revealing two full rows of stained yellow teeth.

The door creaked as it opened, and William’s eyes darted toward it as a tangled metal mess lurched toward him, scraping across the floor. “What are you doing back here?” William asked. The white painted fox head was turned at an alarming angle, clearly not functioning properly. Its limbs were all turned and pivoted, some of them broken and dragging, all inching the remains of the creature into the room. The fox head’s eye spun wildly, searching the ceiling. William pointed to a corner. “You’re no use to me anymore; get out of the way,” he said dismissively, then drew back, surprised: following the fox was another motorcade of broken parts, their wires reaching for one another like vines, pulling each other along and holding themselves together. Mounted on the back of the entanglement was the white-and-purple face of a bear. “I’m heeeere!” a voice came from a speaker somewhere within the mess, cracking and popping with static.

William made a face, unnerved by the wrecked, comingled creatures. “Get back,” he uttered, giving the Freddy face a kick. The mass of parts slid away without resistance, sounding almost disappointed as they came to a stop a few feet away. “What a waste,” he hissed. He turned his attention to the fox again, apparently the most intact. “Bring that boy to me,” he instructed, and the fox turned its eye to the corner.

*  *  *

“I have to go do something for him,” Susie said cheerfully, getting to her feet.

“Something for who?” Carlton asked with alarm, and took hold of her arm.

“Bonnie.” She smiled, gesturing toward the cheerful yellow rabbit wavering in and out of existence beside the table. “He asked me to do something for him just now. He wants to bring a new friend for us and he needs my help.”

“Bonnie isn’t your friend,” Carlton said, still holding her arm. He gasped at the imminent danger that the little blond boy faced, as the girl struggled to break away.