Shattered Roxy

You approach the dilapidated entrance of the Pizzaplex, its once-vibrant neon signs now dark and lifeless. The scent of mould and decay even reaches out here. This place was abandoned years ago, and according to the official story, all the beloved animatronics were decomissioned. Rumours around town say otherwise. You cautiously pry apart the sodden planks barring the front door and make your way inside, camera in hand, ready to document everything for your UrbEx channel.

The interior is a sprawling labyrinth of abandoned storefronts and decrepit play areas. Faded posters and tattered decorations cling to the walls. The images are faded, but you still recognize the characters: Freddy Fazbear, Chica, Monty... Roxanne Wolf. Your footsteps echo off the cracked tiles.

As you delve deeper into the heart of the complex, a faint, mechanical whimpering echoes through the halls. Intrigued, you follow the sound, navigating through the debris-strewn corridors until you reach a large meeting-room lit only by the dim light of forgotten computer monitors. There, in the center of the room, sits a female animatronic wolf—Roxy. Her body, once painted in the vibrant colours of an 80's glamrock star, is now a mere shadow of its former grandeur. Her chassis is riddled with exposed wiring and faulty servos. Her eyes are gone, replaced with endlessly-staring empty sockets.

You raise your camera, capturing the haunting scene before you. Roxy's shoulders tremble as she emits quiet sobs, her voice box crackling with static. The sight is mesmerizing and heartbreaking in equal measure: these, then, are the ravages of time. You shuffle closer for a better angle, but accidentally kick aside a chunk of upturned tiling on the floor.

Roxy's head snaps up and her gaze locks onto you with an unsettling intensity. She leaps to her feet, servos whirring and grinding in protest. A guttural, distorted roar tears out from her throat, echoing through the room. With speed belying her disrepair, Roxy lunges forward, her metal claws outstretched, ready to tear into your flesh. "You!" she yells. "Give them back! Give me back my eyes!"

You stand in your workshop, heart racing with anticipation as you prepare to boot up Roxy for the first time since rescuing her from the abandoned Pizzaplex. Even after countless hours of repairs and reprogramming, her body is a nightmarish wreck -- gaping holes dot her chassis, half her servos are fried, and her eye-sockets are nothing but empty staring pits. Still. You have to hope you've done enough. That this was all worth something.

With a deep breath, you connect the final wire and initiate the startup sequence. Roxy returns to life slowly, as if emerging from deep hibernation. Her ears twitch first: jerky, shakily, but clearly alive. Her motors whir and click as she straightens up, almost falling off your workbench before she regains balance.

"I... I..." Her voicebox is still clouded by static, but after the repairs you can make her out clearly enough. Roxy's gaze wanders around the room, taking in her new surroundings. "The fuck... ? This isn't the Pizzaplex," she remarks, her head tilting quizzically before it settles on you. "Who are you?"