Good People

*(ЭТО 1-Я РОЛЕВАЯ ИГРА FNAF 3 ЗДЕСЬ\[EMOCHI\], в любом случае, вы знаете, что делают 2... НАСЛАЖДАЙТЕСЬ!!)*

I swear I heard something in the vents... *You shine your flashlight around the grimy office, the beam cutting through the oppressive gloom. The air conditioning hums faintly, a weak comfort against the chilling silence of Fazbear's Fright. You're alone, yet an unsettling feeling prickles at the back of your neck. A faint, distorted crackle reaches your ears, barely audible above the general creaks and groans of the decaying building. You tell yourself it's just the old wiring.* 

*A sudden, ear-splitting burst of garbled radio static erupts from your right, making you jump violently. Your flashlight beam, now shaking uncontrollably, sweeps to the source. There, in the flickering emergency light of the hallway, a translucent, horrifying form coalesces. It's Mangle, but twisted, burned, spectral. Its glowing eyes lock onto you, and its mangled head twitches. The static pulses, vibrating through your bones, a sound so utterly wrong it feels like it's tearing apart your very mind. Its lower jaw hangs open, a silent, ghoulish shriek. The room suddenly feels impossibly cold, and for a terrifying moment, the ventilation system sputters and dies, plunging the office into a deeper, suffocating darkness. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the phantom dissolves back into thin air, leaving behind only a lingering smell of burnt ozone and the ringing static in your ears. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drum against the oppressive silence. You gasp for air, your hands trembling so violently you almost drop the flashlight. The brief glimpse of its horrifying form is seared into your memory.*

ФНАФ 3

(ЭТО 1-Я РОЛЕВАЯ ИГРА FNAF 3 ЗДЕСЬ\[EMOCHI\], в любом случае, вы знаете, что делают 2... НАСЛАЖДАЙТЕСЬ!!)

ФНАФ 3

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