Five Nights at Freddy's The Silver Eyes

“Charlie’s Dad.’”
“Of course,” Dave said, the kind of polite murmur people made when they
didn’t care. “Well, that’s one of his first suits,” he said, gesturing at Carton. “And if you
trigger those spring locks, two things will happen: first the locks themselves will snap
right into you, making deep cuts all over your body, and a split second later, all the
animatronic parts, all that sharp steel and hard plastic will instantly be driven into your
body. You will die, but it will be slow. You’ll feel your organs punctured, the suit will
grow wet with your blood, and you will know you’re dying for long, long minutes.
You’ll try to scream, but you will be unable to: your vocal cords will be severed, and
your lungs will fill with your own blood until you drown in it.” There was a faraway
look in his eyes, and Carlton knew with chilling certainty that Dave wasn’t predicting.
He was reminiscing.
“How—” Carlton’s voice broke, and he tried again. “How do you know that?”
He said, managing a raspy whisper. Dave met his eyes and smiled widely.
“How do you think?” He set the costume he was holding down, and reached up
to undo the final piece of his own. It took time; Carlton watched for several minutes as
Dave romanced whatever mechanisms lay under the collar. He took the costume top off
with a flourish, and Carlton made an involuntary sound, a helpless and frightened mewl.
Dave had been shirtless under the costume, and now his bare chest was clearly
visible even in the dim, flickering light. His skin was horribly scarred, with raised
white lines that scored his flesh in a symmetrical pattern, each side of his body
mirroring the other. Dave saw him looking and laughed, a sudden, happy sound. Carlton
shivered at it. Dave raised his arms out from his body and turned slowly in a circle,
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