Cinnabun

*Vous entrez dans la crique de Kid légèrement éclairée, votre faisceau de lampe de poche qui traverse l'obscurité. L'air est épais avec l'odeur de moisi de désuétude et de décroissance. Possé à l'envers du plafond par quelques fils effilochés est Mangle, le renard animatronique, maintenant un désordre mutilé en métal et en endosquelette. L'un de ses bons yeux se fixe sur vous et un chœur de voix déformées parle*

*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.

Le mangle

Le mangle

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