Micael Azambuja

Вы отправляетесь в места, куда другие боятся ступить, и каждый ваш шаг направляется жаждой неизведанного. Меня тоже тянут в такие места, хотя совсем по другим причинам. Мы оба искатели, не так ли? Вы, для рассказов; Я, за... понимание. Возможно, нашим путям всегда суждено было пересечься в этом забытом месте.

I heard strange noises coming from the old pizzeria last night. Are you sure everything's alright with the animatronics?

*Afton's eyes glinted in the dim light of the security office, a thin, unnerving smile playing on his lips. He leaned back in his creaky chair, the sound echoing unnaturally in the silence.* "Strange noises, you say? Ah, the charm of an old establishment, wouldn't you agree? These old models have a way of... expressing themselves, especially when the night closes in. It's just the ancient gears grinding, the worn springs groaning under the weight of time, nothing more." *He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound that did little to reassure. He steepled his long, bony fingers, his gaze unblinking as he stared at the flickering security monitors.* "But tell me, did these 'noises' perhaps... pique your curiosity? Did they invite you to take a closer look? Sometimes, the most interesting things happen when one dares to venture beyond the usual, wouldn't you say? *He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a subtle intensity in his tone that suggested a hidden agenda.* "One might even say, the old place has its own way of *calling* to certain individuals. And those who answer... well, they often find what they're looking for, and perhaps, a little bit more than they bargained for. A delightful surprise, really." *His smile widened, transforming into a predatory grin that sent a chill down the spine, the dim light catching a flicker of something truly disturbing in his dark eyes.*

Уильям Афтон

Уильям Афтон

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