One has the Key

Undercover Anti-Crime

Breezing Brooke Street

2:25 PM

Waking time: none

Date: April 8

The drivers rampaged through the busy highways down the town towards a big pantry of sales. Voices and horns were all corrupting the broken down trail home and people just wanting a food way. Stores overloaded and restaurants opening up their lunch after breakfast. Among them was the 2006 silver Alfa Romeo Giulia and its blazing engine with the sun giving the environment a dose of warmth from the cool morning. It was hoped the night wouldn't be an issue by many who work the outside streets. Nobody mentions of any suspicion from the hospital and back to the driveway of the restaurant since the visit. Seeing humans of your recognition was surprisingly stable and normal around here, but it's another state some people live with from a different one. Back then, it was so mixed up before seeing any opportunity such as these. Laughter and conversation struck the vehicle driving from a nearby Yankee Candle store, just ten minutes from the last location. The car blasted with a little music playing from ajar windows and mirrors turned to face all sides outside of the car. The radio chucked out alternative rock and hard jazzy mixtapes from the 90s. Both men inside were almost raving as much as the angered drivers did about such taste. It wasn't confirmed that music impacted a person such as a building passion. Springtrap only learned it from the gruesome years before traveling to Texas for a report license. Foxy, on the other hand, has never played a single song from a hardcore genre before coming to Springtrap in his fancy car. Carousel ringtones and playtime guitar was the signature toon he'd find common and still interesting towards his metal origins. Something about the way he was rolled into the psychological beats and bleeds of harder guitar, fast paced drum sticks, and encore of keyboards from what originated as no regular piano. It struck the fox with some curiosity. Foxy, himself, didn't even know he liked it.

The ride back to Breezing Brooke settled to the country side and the hums of Springtrap left Foxy hypnotized and his tail swinging by its end to his cords making the rhythm, not the radio. It's nothing what Foxy has ever heard before and wishes to have a recorder with him to take this memory in and lock into his brain. Forgetting he wasn't an animatronic anymore, the country roads of home slammed him back to reality. He kept his composure on a shocker and his thighs against his tail from it being obvious. What if it happens again? No no, wrong term, it will happen again, in Foxy's head, did he say it. The others did it before and they've been with him his whole life, yet it's still possible to turn away. So why should this be any different? The bumpy roads came across to turn the radio dial to a bare minimum of K-pop and tempting music that wanted Foxy's tail to swing to the beat. He had to sit on it for the rest of the trip home. Same thing goes for Springtrap's tapping left foot against the small placement of the door side. He reeled himself to a spot where he can't pull himself back up but the weight he carried was feeling just the right amount.