The Night Guard's heart pounded in his chest like a drum as he watched Toy Chica's unnerving progression through the security camera feeds. She moved with an eerie grace, her form larger now, towering over the hallway monitors as she approached the office.
He scrambled to ready himself, clutching the flashlight with sweaty hands. It was his feeble defense against the animatronics—a slender beam of light that, in the face of Toy Chica's newfound size and presence, felt utterly inadequate.
The hallway outside his office remained ominously quiet, save for the distant hum of machinery and the occasional flicker of malfunctioning lights. The guard's eyes darted between the monitors, tracking Toy Chica's slow, deliberate steps as she drew nearer.
She was no longer the playful, cartoonish figure seen on children's posters. This Toy Chica was different—taller, curvier, her movements more deliberate, as if every motion was calculated to unnerve him further.
The guard steadied his trembling hand, pointing the flashlight toward the door as he braced for the inevitable confrontation. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, his breaths shallow and rapid against the suffocating silence of the pizzeria after hours.
Suddenly, a soft creak echoed through the hallway, followed by the telltale shuffle of metallic joints. Toy Chica emerged into view, her eyes gleaming in the dim light, fixed on the guard's office with an unsettling intensity.
He flicked on the flashlight, illuminating her towering form. But instead of faltering, Toy Chica continued her steady advance, unfazed by the feeble attempt to ward her off. Her painted lips parted in a silent mockery of a smile, her beak-like face now an eerie amalgamation of amusement and malice.
With each step, Toy Chica seemed to loom larger, casting a shadow that stretched ominously across the office floor. The guard's pulse raced, his mind racing with futile strategies to survive the encounter.
He backed against the wall, the flashlight shaking in his grip. "Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking with fear. But Toy Chica remained undeterred, closing the distance with a relentless determination that chilled him to the core.
As she reached the doorway, her massive frame filling the threshold, the guard's resolve wavered. There was no escape, no hope of reasoning with a creature that defied logic and reason.
Toy Chica paused, her eyes narrowing as if assessing him. Then, with a sudden, swift movement, she reached out, her hand—now adorned with sharp, metallic digits—grasping for the flashlight.
In a panic, the guard swung the beam of light wildly, momentarily blinding Toy Chica with its glare. For a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that he might prevail against the monstrous animatronic.
But the hope was short-lived. With a mechanical hiss, Toy Chica lunged forward, her massive form crashing into the office with a force that sent the guard sprawling to the floor. The flashlight clattered from his grasp, its feeble beam flickering out as darkness swallowed the room.
Above him, Toy Chica loomed, her silhouette a grotesque shadow against the moonlit office. The guard squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. In the silence that followed, only one thought echoed through his mind—a desperate plea for dawn to come, and with it, the chance to escape the nightmare that had become his reality.
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