Chapter Text
October the 18th.
2002...
.
.
.
Terrifying.
That was the only adjective every newspaper liked to shove into their main article regarding Fazbear Entertainment. A once respected and loved company... now reduced to a shell of its former self. Shareholders abandoned their investments, which in turn decreased the resources management could allocate into their project. Less resources invested meant less quality...
...and less quality led to less clients.
William Afton chuckled particularly at the headline, making sure not to be heard by the other people around him. "More kids missing. Is the killer unreachable?"
Being the narcissistic demon he was, William took great pride in the description provided by the journalists. He was a hunter, a skilled one at that. His manipulation skills were refined, managing to pierce anyone engaged in a conversation with him. There wasn't anything he wasn't good at... except swimming. Hydrophobia was his Achilles' heel, the only imperfection permeating this useless sack of flesh that was his body.
But imperfections could be limited or eliminated completely.
He shifted his weight on the chair he was occupying, making it creak lightly. His pockets still contained the precious vials of Remnant, he could feel the texture of the glass as it rolled around the tiny space.Victory shall be mine. He internally proclaimed, downing another shot of the drink he had ordered.
The bar he was in didn't have TVs or other technological means of information such as radios. William had selected it purposely for this sole reason. In fact, no one of the drunk animals currently residing inside had any interest for newspapers. If 'knowledge was power', then he would beat each and everyone of these insects for all of eternity.
William raised his empty glass. "Another one." He called out to the bartender with his heavy English accent; another of his features that were often made fun of. Truly, people were desperate if they chose accentsas a tool to insult others.
He brought the filled glass to his nostrils and inhaled.Not as pungent as the whisky back home. But... it is acceptable.
Home. What memories the word summoned!
Memories of his elder son, Michael Afton. The little sh*t had always been a thorn to his plans and, in general, his life. Why couldn't he get one thing right? From the moment he was born, William knew the idiot was a lost cause, better to be left rotting and to be forsaken. The incident with his younger brother only cemented William's view. Though he had to admit, Michael's futile attempts at redeeming himself in the Sister Location got a chuckle or two out of the killer.
Memories of his middle son, Evan Afton. The Crybaby was certainly an annoying brat who had no courage to properly face his demons. Although, there was a day where he wasn't so sad and actually smiled for the majority of it. William remembered when that employee was tasked with babysitting his three children while he and Clara were busy meeting Henry Emily. What a giddy smile Evan wore! Too bad it was gone the next day as soon as the employee's task was finished. What was his name anyway? Drake? Damian? Something starting with 'D'.
Memories of his youngest daughter, Elizabeth Afton. The girl was his favourite of the three, managing to convince him of who was worthy of his attentions and love as a father. Her death broke him completely, finally bringing him to the edge of insanity and starting his quest for immortality. He had to thank Elizabeth, for she unleashed the true William Afton. The one hidden behind the mask of an honest and good man.
Memories of his wife, the mother of his children, Clara Afton. He supposed he hadlovedher at some point, despite the concept of 'love' being as mysterious as it could be to a man like him. But as Fazbear Entertainment slowly ascended along with his discoveries of Remnant? William Afton feltnothingtowards Clara. He still respected her for allowing a tiny bit of happiness in his life, short as it had been. Aside from that? She was a potential obstacle. William gave her a few additional points for the distraction from work she was. As he f*cked her, he realized her role as stress relief. Her death brought no emotion out of him.
Sometimes William wondered if one last attempt at a child would be fruitious. To receive an appropriate heir to his aspirations, someone as cunning as he was, who could actually understand him. Out of all of his children, Elizabeth proved to possess the most potential, and William knew it couldn't work because of the fact that she was a girl. In this society, women were looked down, despite the many battles and rights they were respectively fighting and conquering. Maybe, just maybe, if he had procreated with Clara one last time, the results could have been promising.
William Afton shook his head and neared the glass to his lips. No reason to ponder the ifs. After all, he was a man of pragmatism, planning every action in advance and overseeing every possible outcome. There was a reason those policemen let him go, that being a lack of evidence towards his guiltiness. Oh, the devastated looks on the parents' faces as they realized William was 'innocent' was a memory he clutched to his chest and dug in whenever he felt bored.
"Are you alone here?" A soft, feminine voice asked.
The killer stopped drinking to turn to his right and properly address the voice. There, in front of him, a woman was pointing one of her fingers to the seat beside him. She had slightly tanned skin, a small black purse hanging over her left shoulder; she also sported long, black hair, with blue eyes. Her clothing consisted of long jeans compensated by a small, blue t-shirt, which left an opening on her belly where a flower tattoo was drawn vertically. William Afton could admit: she wasstunning.
Realizing the young woman was waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat and put on his signature charming smile. "Yes, I'm alone. You can sit, miss." He gestured with his eyes at the chair, breaking eye contact only momentarily. Looks like this evening might provide a suitable distraction, after all.
The effect was already visible, as she reciprocated the smile with a bright one of her own. She posed her purse on the ground beside her and sat, tapping her fingernails as she waited for the bartender to finish serving the other customers.
William Afton, despite the monster he had become, was still aman. That meant certain needs existed, and without her dear wife, he had to search for alternative means to satisfy them. How could he refuse such a prey? He could plan his next move later. Besides, he would act the next year anyway.
Slowly, he retracted the wedding ring from his left hand and plucked it into his pocket. The woman was on his right, so she hadn't seen it on his annular.
The serial killer glanced at the journal he was previously reading.What if?
"I'm finished with this journal." William said, nudging the sheet of paper near her arm. "Want to take a look at it?"
She didn't expect to be addressed again, but she soon nodded and thanked Afton. The man continued drinking, appearing to be done conversing. In reality, William was observing the pages the woman was analysing. He saw her settling on sport news, and got an idea on where to head the conversation at.
"You like sports?"
"It's my field." She responded, not taking her eyes off the page. "I'm an agent."
Perfect.
"Are you looking for any male synchronized swimmers? I'm... thinking about getting into that."
"Is that right?" She looked at William for a moment and smirked. That was a good sign for Afton. It meant his approach was functioning appropriately. Now, he needed to continue like that and keep the words flowing. If his suspicions were correct about this young woman, then a few more minutes would suffice.
"I'm afraid of water." He released a fake sigh of sadness. "You think that's a problem?"
She merely giggled, shaking her head and re-focusing her attention on the paper.
Just a little more.
"I'm William Afton." He specifically offered his left hand for a handshake, watching in satisfaction as the woman darted her eyes at his annular for a second. The motion had been so fast anybody else wouldn't have caught it, but William had great reflexes.
"Kelly, Kelly DeCarte." Her grip was quite strong for a woman of her caliber, it convinced Afton of probing further to fully understand her intentions.
The bartender arrived at that moment and took her order. She moved to bring her wallet out when William stopped her by talking. "It's fine." He said, tapping a finger on his own wallet. "I'll pay for her. It's basic knowledge for those who aspire to be gentlemen, correct?"
Kelly twirled a bit of her hair. "Perhaps. I wonder what type of gentlemanyouare, Mr. Afton." The way she said addressed him sent a small shiver down the serial killer's spine. It was clear the young woman had approached him with the goal of flirting with him. Would she keep pushing 'till the end? Or was it all just a tease advised by a group of friends he couldn't see?
If it indeed was a prank, he could always bring her with him to extract more Remnant. He hadn't exactly experimented with adults, because children had always been preferable targets.
"The good kind." He answered. "As a gentleman, I take full responsability in what I shall ask next. How old are you, Kelly?"
Whether she was offended by the question, she didn't voice it. "Thirty. As for you, Mr. Afton?" She consumed some of her drink as she awaited for an answer to her inquiry.
"Fifty."
Her eyes widened. "You seem much younger, Mr. Afton! I'd say... thirty-five." Those blue irises captivated him to no end. They became itched into his mind, to be forever stored and remembered.
As for her indirect question? William supposed the external appearance was a product of his Remnant injections.
He leaned closer to her ear. "You seem to be interested in analysing me. Do you wish to continue this outside?" He saw her shuddering at the dangerous proximity, hearing her intensified breaths. William, this time, pierced her further by lowering his hand on her leg. "I have no wife, if that was your concern."
"I-I'm afraid you've confused my presence here, Mr. Afton." She weakly rebutted.
"Did I?" He co*cked his head mockingly. "You come here, dressed likethat, and approach a man enjoying a drink with such confidence. Is it because of a bad day?"
She mumbled something, inducing Afton to squeeze her leg. "What was that, miss?" He sealed her fate by placing one small kiss on her cheek. "Speak up."
"I... couldn't resist the chance of a single, handsome man."
Bingo.
William Afton determined a series of events that would unfold thirty years from there as soon as he planted his lips onto Kelly's.
And it all started from the Remnant in his body.
August the 18th.
2003...
.
.
.
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
William Afton had always calculated his actions, and everythinghad gone as expected during his life. The death of his family was an event akin to chains being broken, unvealing his true aspirations. He may have killed for selfish reasons, but he recognized his sins and came to the conclusion that he lovedbeing mad.
Yet, here he stood, cornered like an animal.
Those five...ghostsfrom the suits should have passed on. He had destroyed their bodies, surely the brats would have taken the opportunity to fly away in Heaven or whatever afterlife awaited them? They shouldn't be here, they didn't belonghere, in this plane of existence.
The fifth member of the group, a girl...Cassidy- his mind supplied - had the biggest glare out of them all. If the other inhabitants were angry but wary or afraid of the man before them, the one who had killed them, Cassidy was outright furious.Behind the tears of sadness recognizable on any child, there was a primal need; the need of vengeance, a sentiment every hom*o Sapiens shared.
In a flash, she was before him, face to... ghostly face. William ducked and sprinted to the other side of the room, throwing the same hatchet he exploited moments earlier towards the ghost. It phased through her chest, clanging into the wall behind her. "You were weak!" The killer shouted. "I gave you stronger bodies and wills! You should be thanking me!"
As soon as he finished those words, she was in front of him again. William supposed they were playing a game of cat and mouse before they'd attempt a direct assault. The four other spirits didn't dare to interrupt the dance between the former Golden Freddy inhabitant and the Purple Guy, patiently following their movements through their white dots. Whether Cassidy had instructed them to remain in their positions, Afton had absolutely no idea of. Did they even communicate verbally? Or did they develop telepathy?
"S-Stay away from me!" His voice finally creaked...
...and Cassidy relished in it.
A grin spread across her ghostly lips, becoming nothing more than a long, oblique, black line. Her tears may have remained, but she now, almost, resembled an eldritch abomination. She finally acted, flying at William with such force it knocked him onto the floor. The serial killer planted the palms of his hands on the cold surface and snarled at the girl, who giggled lightly at the frustration on his face. By now, drops of sweat traced down his forehead, and he hoped he wouldn't die of a cardiac arrest anytime soon.
His gaze fell on something beyond Cassidy, something left to rot and forgotten by everyone.
Except him.
Elsewhere, a woman was deep in labor, having just arrived at the nearest hospital and being transported into an available room.
Kelly DeCarte suffered from the contractions her unborn son was causing. The pain was like an earthquake, spreading from a center to the rest of her body.
It wasn't a surprise when she found out she was pregnant. She remembered all too fondly the night she spent with that man, William Afton. Newspapers eventually buzzed, the next year, with reports over his guiltness and a hunt for the man began. Kelly recalled the moment she realized who she had chosen as her partner. She recalled disgust, anguish, anger... but most of all? Disappointment.
She wasn't a woman out of resources or will to raise a child, though. She made a promise to herself.
There were two nurses and a doctor with her. "You're doing great, Mrs. DeCarte." The medic praised her efforts. "Keep going like that, and you'll have a bundle of joy in no time."
Easier said than done.
But, maybe, this one thing would proceed as intended.
Kelly groaned again.
The suit was battered with holes adorning it. One ear was partially missing, and the texture of the lips had completely decayed. It still provided a refuge for the serial killer. William carefully put on each piece and grinned at the souls before him.
"Very much like the one I used to dispose of all of you, eh?"
The foxy inhabitant, Fritz, took one step ahead... before being stopped by an arm belonging to Cassidy. Soft, incoherent whispers were traded between the spirits, and smiles slowly formed on every single face. They knew something would happen in the next moment, which would provide great satisfaction to them all.
As for William? He was too caught up in his speech that his sharp mind didn't register those expressions.
"Well, you can't hurt me while I'm like this, can you?" He pointed one of the suit's fingers at them. "Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" A maniacal laughter escaped the serial killer.
The spirits merely let him vent, looking at the ceiling.
Babies are supposed to be born crying.
The general consensus is that, by being born crying, the newborns are forced to set their lungs into motion and breathe on their own. Of course, it's more complicated than that, though it's one of the main requirements and expectations.
As for her son? He wasn't crying...
...and he wasn't moving either.
The doctor quickly responded to Kelly's unrelenting demands by explaining how, somehow, the baby had choked on the a mniotic fluid produced by her placenta. It shouldn't have been possible, for the water composition was heavily altered by salt and other elements.
It was easier to drown in soft water than in salt water.
So, Kelly closed her eyes and prayed as the medics performed emergency procedures on that small, fragile body.
She prayed that he would survive the night.
Like many other humans before him, hybris would define William's downfall.
The mere thought of cheating death and taking lives from those children would already represent two important points in favour of this theory.
As for point three?Pure, sheer karma.
From the ceiling, a single drop of water landed inside of the suit. That, combined with the vibrations caused by William's movements, activated the springlocks.
Choking on his own blood as his muscles and bones were crushed beyond recognition reminded him of drowning.
And he was soafraidof drowning.
He raised his gaze and saw the ghosts disappearing. Not a single trace of their existence was left.
"I... a-always c-come back." The serial killer had barely the time to finish the sentence before his vocal cords were struck next.
But from death... life may find its way.
One soul for another.
A miracle.
That was what Kelly would have catalogued the birth of her son as.
One moment, he was drowning and fading away. The next? He had woken up and cried significantly.
Kelly Decarte watched those blue eyes, satisfied at how they were closer to hers than they could ever be to William Afton's.
"Hi... David."
David DeCarte had made his way into this world.
