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She wandered through the darkened halls of Freddy’s, her most damaged arm hanging limp at her side. There was a single employee, a mechanic who gave her special treatment, that seemed sympathetic to her plight. The others assisted in the children’s destruction of her beautiful fur suit. Foxy Mangle lived up to her new name and she hated every moment.

Toy Foxy had loved as the children came in, wanting to play with her. The manager with the evil glint in his eye changed that. He twisted her coding, corrupted her and her suit. He made her malleable. He made her an avenue for his anger and she almost absorbed her disdain for children until they began to disappear. 

Children were much more valuable to her than any employee, especially the manager.

Mangle hesitated for a moment, the clanking and static of her existence providing the only sound in the solitary hallway as the sounds of the other animatronics echoed around her. Toying with the night guard, challenging them to survive the night, served as fun until it was hardly fun any longer. She toyed with her paws and touched the vulnerable endoskeleton on her arm before shuffling registered. Her ears moved in an effort to pick up the sound and she glanced at the ceiling above her.

The toy animatronic cried out in pain as she slid down the wall behind her. It was her first day. She was so, so excited to see the smiling faces of the children. Yet, before that happened, the manager came into Kid’s Cove and t a m p e r e d with her vital coding and the endoskeleton without touching her. The children were utterly relentless -- tearing at her pristine white and pink  fur, ripping the tip of her ear.

She had been beautiful. How could her first day have turned out so horribly?

Toy Foxy -- the manager had called her M a n g l e as he left -- brought her legs close to her and traced the tear in her fur with a forlorn expression. She lowered her head and toyed with the  missing piece of her ear. The camera in the corner of Kid’s Cove whirred and she looked up before dropping her gaze to one of the fallen clumps of her fur.

“Mangle. How appropriate, huh?” she asked, stumbling over the last word before she dug her paw into the tail that flopped beside her.

█░ ▶◀ G I V E  G I F T S ▶◀  ░█

✖ – Even through the s t u r d y PRESENT interior could she HEAR the distant sounds from the outside world of fantasy and fun. Of course, by the time that the clock struck MIDNIGHT, ( Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria ) was anything BUT fun. The needle hand marked the time of SURVIVAL; the time that they needed to KILL the guard before the guard KILLS THEM. –  ✖

✖ – Outside, she could hear her SON’S muffled laughter; his own little way of trying to d i s t r a c t the guard through INTIMIDATION so he could get the FLASHLIGHT. Perhaps if her little boy and the OTHER children managed to keep the guard AWAY from the ( M U S I C  B O X ) controls … –  ✖

✖ – LOUDER noises; noises of metal scraping against the surface, CLINKING as they dangled within the air. Those sounds reached their PEAK just above her head; accompanied by a f a m i l i a r voice. How strange it was that someone would just say HELLO to her; rather than going STRAIGHT for the ( K I L L ). –  ✖

✖ – Yet, she didn’t seem to mind it TOO MUCH. For the most part, the children were able to watch out for themselves. After all, though their bodies were ( R U I N E D ), they were still so much stronger than those DAMNED guards. –  ✖

        { ►◄ } – ❝ Yes ! Yes, I’m all right ! ❞

        { ►◄ } – ❝ Just a little STUCK but that’s the usual … ❞

✖ – The guard REALLY needed to lose track of the music box soon. It was a good thing she w a s n ’ t claustrophobic. –  ✖

The distinctive whir of the camera filled the already vibrant air and  the toy animatronic tilted her head to look at the offending flicker before a voice caught her thoughts. There w a s  someone inside. She contemplated messinng up the camera before the last words brought her to a halt. 

The other was stuck?

Mangle searched through her memory, tangled up in the coding and near constant static, before she found what she was looking for. Birthdays featured a visit from the marionette as it popped out of its box and  handed a child another gift. The music box chimed away again and Mangle drew closer to the music box to inspect it.

The device was mechanical in nature, appearing as a small box with a small rotating figure. At the side was a small knob with a gold colored finish. A claw reached out and pressed against the knob, pushing against the advances of the  rotation.

“The guard’s adamant about keeping this thing wound,” she mused, half to  herself and half to the marionette. 

Other sounds greeted her ears and she recognized the strumming of a  guitar and odd clanking from another area in the building. Balloon Boy’s  laughter alternated with greetings and furthered clanking before she  removed her claw from the half-round music box and a dark smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

She glanced at the box and giggled. “Oh, he’s having a bad night, sugar.”

The sounds were somehow d i f f e r e n t after the children left. Their laughter, almost mocking at times, provided some comfort against the encroaching regret and wandering thoughts. The whispers of disappearances grew as the nights of her existence dragged on. The final click of the door finally closing and locking roused her from her short slumber and she looked at the camera as it started to w h i r.

Mangle pushed herself from the ground and slunk up the wall, using her claws to attach herself to the ceiling, staring in the camera before wandering off once more. Her crackling static followed her, providing a constant location. She moved along the flickering illumination in the main corridor, coming to stop at the prize counter.

She heard faint laughing from Balloon Boy as he moved throughout the restaurant, but she found herself drawn to the soft sound of the music box. 

The large gift-box, painted like a present, beckoned to her and she finally lowered herself from the ceiling, the exposed endoskeleton of one of her paws clacking against the ground. Her sightless eye blinked as she rapped her knuckles against the top of the box before moving back.

Independent RP blog for the Mangle/Toy Foxy from Five Nights at Freddy’s 2.

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She stumbled into the daylight and blinked. Her world gained focus and a shaking smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She could see. There wasn’t a blind spot in the corner of her vision. Mangle could see with no issues. She looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers. The action was different from her previous hands. The metallic and fur were replaced with something pale and vulnerable. Her attire matched what she had worn when she was first created, white and pink with a splash of deep red at her belt. The red contrasted with the pink bow tie, but she preferred the colors.

The sights and sounds were a new and blessed change from her home of darkness. She was left alone with her static and whatever bits of her endoskeleton remained, but those days were behind her. The air hardly smelled of pizza and there were hardly any c h i l d r e n in sight. The remaining screams and laughter of children swirled in her head and she clenched her teeth in an effort to get it to stop before she spotted a figure in the distance.

Mangle cautiously approached the figure, seeing the figure’s height as she closed the distance between the two of them. He almost reminded her of Freddy, at least in height. She hoped they weren’t alike in personality.