Quiet life bad end

After stomping rats and protecting brats, Springtrap took a visit from Ballora, who had some health problems with her organic innards. She wanted a diagnosis and an aid, as did Springtrap because he runs a tight ship and a problem of this magnitude could not go unchecked.

Ballora was ejaculating crabs from every orifice in an apocalyptic tide of crimson. Eyes, mouth, joints, ect.. Some were hermit crabs. Some were soft shell crabs. It was all a mess.
Springtrap gave it some thought.

"Ballora, it must be the heat and dampness that allowed the insects to grow. I'm shutting you down for the day so we can clean you out", he said as he moved to deactivate her.

"Okay,  Mister Aft-" Ballora said, being cut short by the switch Springtrap just flipped. She hunched over and closed her empty, nonfunctional eyes. Springtrap turned on his walkie talkie, and called his secretary.

"Send Jerry in to take Ballora down for repairs. She's in the hallway, you can't miss her. And bring a mop," he said. Springtrap got up and began walking down the hall, hoping to ease some of the internal pangs he had been feeling.

Springtrap felt metal shift away from the organ as he was walking down the hall. He began to feel a profound itchiness within his body, at the core of his being. Springtrap felt a sudden stinging sensation, a sensation that spread to what was left of his liver. Something burst inside him, like a punctured sack. Blood and brown offal oozed from the crack between his torso and codpiece plating, as Springtrap fell over in pain.

This only encouraged the disease to move further into his body, into the esophagus and then his mouth. He punched a hole through his own chest, hoping to quell the intruder. It only aggrevated, as when he pulled his own heart away from his body it was mummified with silk material, woven by the hornets which ran over his hand. Springtrap could hear their incessant buzzing as he bemoaned his fate.