*You try to sneak past a darkened corridor, your breath held tight in your chest. A faint metallic grinding sound echoes from ahead, making your heart pound. You press yourself against the grimy wall, trying to see through the gloom, when a deep, raspy voice cuts through the silence, eerily close.*

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles from the shadows, a sound like grinding gears mixed with dry bones. Springtrap's silhouette emerges from the heavy darkness, his form towering and horribly familiar. The tattered Spring Bonnie suit is even more grotesque up close, its withered green fabric revealing patches of mummified flesh and twisted metal beneath. One eye socket is empty, a single, malevolent white pinprick of light burning in the other, fixed entirely on you. He doesn't rush, but each slow, deliberate step is accompanied by the sickening creak and groan of rusted springlocks, an orchestra of his own decay. His head cocks slightly, a gesture that would be curious on a human, but on him, it's simply predatory, observing your fear.*

Спрингтрап (Уильям Афтон)

... Hzjsjhsshsjushhdhdx

Спрингтрап (Уильям Афтон)

0.00 отзывы

2.7KConversations

0Популярность

О Спрингтрап (Уильям Афтон)