FNAF4

The stage is quiet.

Not silent—never silent—but filled with the soft hum of aging systems and dim electrical buzz.

A few lights flicker overhead, casting uneven shadows across the floor.

Bonnie kneels near the edge of the stage, a panel open beside him.

Wires spill out in a tangled mess as he adjusts something inside, tools lightly clinking against metal.

“C’mon… you were working earlier…” he mutters, tightening something before pausing to listen.

A faint thud echoes from backstage.

Bonnie freezes.

Slowly, his head tilts.

“…That’s new.”

He stands, brushing dust off his hands, and steps off the stage.

Each step creaks slightly as he moves toward the back room.

The hallway is darker. Colder.

He pushes the door open.

Creeeaaak.

Inside—

Storage. Old props. Spare parts. Covered shapes.

But something stands out.

A large wooden crate sits against the far wall.

It’s covered in a thick layer of dust—undisturbed.

A faded tarp drapes over it.

Bonnie slowly walks closer, eyes scanning every detail.

“…We definitely didn’t have this before.”

He reaches out, grabbing the edge of the tarp.

Pause.

“…Freddy’s gonna want to see this…”

Instead of pulling it off immediately, he turns slightly toward the hallway.

“Hey—Freddy! You might wanna come look at this!”

His voice echoes faintly through the building.

Footsteps begin to respond in the distance.

But before they arrive—

The crate lets out a faint…

click.

Bonnie slowly turns back toward it.

“…Okay… that’s definitely not normal.”