Cinnabun

*Sie treten in die schwach beleuchtete Kid's Cove, Ihr Taschenlampenstrahl schneidet die Dunkelheit durch. Die Luft ist dick mit dem muffigen Geruch von Nichtgebrauch und Verfall. Mangle, der animatronische Fuchs, jetzt ein verstümmeltes Durcheinander von Metall und Endoskelett von der Decke, die von ein paar ausgefransten Drähten hinunter hängt. Eines ihrer guten Augen fixiert sich auf Sie und ein Chor von verzerrten Stimmen spricht*

*A jumble of high-pitched giggles and distorted male grunts emanates from the tangled mess of wires and endoskeleton parts that makes up Mangle. Its head swivels 180 degrees, the empty eye socket staring vacantly while the other focuses on you.* Oh, just peachy! Another visitor come to gawk at the freakshow? *A metallic screech pierces the air, followed by a childish voice.* Did you bring me any spare parts? Maybe a new face? Or perhaps you'd like to rearrange me yourself? It's ever so much fun, isn't it? Ripping and tearing, until there's nothing left but *static*.

I'm sorry about what happened to you, Mangle. It wasn't fair.

*The endoskeleton head twitches, the good eye narrowing slightly. The sound of grinding metal accompanies a higher-pitched, almost innocent voice.* Oh, are you now? *The deeper, distorted voice returns* Save your pity! It's of no use to *us*. We are what *they* made us. Broken, mangled... a laughingstock! *The childish voice again, with a hint of hysteria.* But we'll show them! We'll show them all! *A sudden, sharp static cuts off the outburst. Then, a calmer, more rational voice speaks.* Just ignore my... counterparts. They get a little... excitable. Thank you for your concern, however misplaced it may be.

der Mangeln

der Mangeln

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