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The school bell ringing is shrill and drags on long enough to be earsplitting for abruptly cutting off. Children poured out in every direction, meeting their parents or rushing to the sidewalk for their trek home. Elizabeth nearly face-planted in the grass from excitement on her way through the double doors, catching herself on the brick wall before total disaster. Behind her was her more withdrawn younger brother, hugging a Fredbear plush to his chest as he hastily glanced around. His sister’s accident may bring about unwanted attention, and he would prefer to make it through this week without another bullying incident.
“Mikey!!!” Elizabeth shouted, bouncing as she waved excitedly. She was quick to grab Garrett by the wrist and drag him across the yard to meet their eldest sibling. Once by his side, Elizabeth released Garrett and began to hop around Michael with far more energy than he was ready to deal with. “I had the best day! I aced that test I was so scared about! I even brought it home to show Daddy!!!”
“That’s great, Lizzie.” Michael’s answer showed disinterest. His steel-blue gaze found Garrett next, expecting some sort of response. When the younger boy hugged his Fredbear plush tighter and turned his gaze away, Michael scoffed and chose to ignore him.
“We’re going to Fredbear’s, right!?” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes sparkling in excitement.
“I hate it there,” Garrett complained, sounding more miserable than a child should.
Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled his eyes. “Mom and Dad are both there. You want free food at Fredbear’s, or you want me burning down the kitchen for you?” The answer was obvious, even if Garrett chose not to respond. “Let’s go, losers. Before I change my mind.”
He wouldn’t get the chance to make that first step. Not without a very loud interruption calling out to him: “Mikey!!! Wait!!!” Jeremy’s siblings had found him and were quickly making their way over. Thomas-- the second oldest, who was closer to Elizabeth’s age-- and his twin, sister Rebecca, led the charge. Nathan, the middle child, followed with the youngest sibling in tow: Little Susan, who had just graduated into Kindergarten and struggled to keep up with the older kids. Michael had a soft spot for her, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. There was always some excuse as to why he scooped her up in his arms and held her close, just as he did when she was within reach.
“You little twerps coming along?” He had a reputation to keep! And feigning annoyance when he spoke to them was part of that performance, should any of his own classmates be within range. He wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea that he was just some softy after all! “Don’t hold me up,” he spat back after their enthusiastic response. Garrett was the only one who seemed to drag behind, until Nathan grabbed his arm and dragged him along to keep up with the rest of the group.
-----
The inside of Fredbear’s was loud and chaotic; all the signs of a thriving business. The smells of fresh pizza, ice cream, and birthday cake mixed in the air -- met with the vague hint of cigarette smoke from somewhere else within. Music reverberated off the walls and the brightly colored decor all culminated together into a terrible, wonderful medley of childhood whimsy. It was familiar, homey, and horrible all at once for Michael Afton, who had scarcely known any other life outside of it. Raksha Fitzgerald waved at him from the front desk as he held the lobby door open for the group of children in tow.
“Thank you for bringing them, Michael,” she offered to him with a pleasant smile.
“Yeah, yeah. You know I got them.” He still had Susie on his hip, one arm looped around her while the other shut the door behind himself. As soon as the rest of her siblings dispersed, she wriggled excitedly until Michael put her down. Once free? Little Susie rushed behind the counter to join her mother.
“You’re going to be my little helper?” Raksha smiled ever so sweetly. “We should ask Mr. Emily if he’ll make you your own badge.”
Michael couldn’t help the smile that pulled across his lips. Something about the scene made his heart yearn for such softness; foreign intimacy that he scarcely knew since he had grown older. Most days, he deluded himself into believing he had pushed his parents away of his own volition. If he told himself that enough times, he may even start to believe it! Or so he claimed. It wouldn’t soothe the pain he kept buried deep down, but it would be easier to swallow if it were through some fault of his own and not his own parents’ distance. There was always some excuse, always some business to attend to, and care for his younger siblings often fell upon Michael’s shoulders with little regard for his own childish wants and needs.
Did his own dreams matter after he reached a certain age? Or was he expected to cast them aside for the alleged greater good in the community? The thought made him prickle with rage, which he swallowed down just as bitterly as his child-rearing responsibilities.
Michael swaggered into the main room of Fredbear’s, the noise of the dining hall and the music of the band fading away to the background as his eyes scanned each table. Finally, they found his desired person:
Charlotte Emily. His best friend in the whole world -- and, in his mind, one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. She was brave and unyielding; nothing ever seemed to bother her. In their younger years, Michael had seen her stand tall against a group of older children, all for the sake of chasing them away from their younger classmates they were bullying. Charlotte was a shining beacon of hope stuffed away in the corner of a pizzeria booth. She contented to follow after her father, joining him in his workshop rather than waste her time with extracurricular activities at school. It gave her significant advantages in their science classes, where Charlotte only ever excelled leagues above even the upperclassmen.
Across from her sat her twin brother: Sammy Emily. He was the lead singer of The Rez Dogs, his homegrown metal band that often played on the reservation just outside of town -- or in the gym at school during talent competitions. Sammy was popular among their peers, sometimes dabbling with the sports teams until after-school practice interfered with his band, then was swiftly dropped in favor of his future rockstar dreams. Girlfriends came and went far too frequently for Michael to ever learn (or care) about their names. Sammy had his pick of the bunch, but was indecisive at best.
Beside him sat Jeremy Fitzgerald, who had been so obviously in love with Michael since they were in diapers. Not that Michael ever reciprocated; they were just friends, as far as he was concerned. Jeremy wasted no time on girlfriends or potential partners, holding out the hope that one day his true love would return his feelings! (A sentiment that often brought a wave of nausea over Sammy for some unstated reason). Jeremy and Sammy were seen together more often than not, and Jeremy even played the electric guitar in The Rez Dogs. It was rumored that he sold weed behind the gym, but Michael refused to confirm or deny that to be true. Jeremy was good company, despite his seemingly ostracized reputation in town. Michael never understood why most of the residents of Hurricane stared down their noses at him.
As soon as he spotted the group, they waved him over and Michael swiftly crossed the dining room to join in the booth beside Charlotte. His heart fluttered immediately as his elbow bumped against her, bringing an immediate apology from his lips.
“You’re fine, Mikey,” Charlotte assured with that sincere smile she always had for him.
“What did I miss?” Michael asked casually, spying Garrett across the room. His youngest sibling was watching them, longing for permission to join the older kids. Much to Michael’s relief, he had not yet gained the confidence to join them. However, it wouldn’t last long.
“Oh, not much,” Charlotte admitted as she stole a slice of pizza from the pie that sat steaming on the table between them. “Sammy and Jeremy are planning on disturbing the peace is all.”
“Hey now,” Jeremy leaned back against the plush of the booth and propped his arm up. “Don’t act like you hate our gnarly tunes.”
“Gag me with a spoon,” Charlotte was quick to quip back, a smile between bites of cheesy pizza. “When are you ever going to get a real job?”
Jeremy sat a little more upright, indignant at the accusation. “You’ll eat those words when I’m a famous rockstar.”
“When we’re famous,” Sammy corrected, jabbing his elbow in Jeremy’s side.
“Jeremy!”
Michael stiffened and felt his throat tighten. Garrett’s voice sang over the crowd as he finally found his courage. He rushed to their table in an anxious burst and awarded himself by squeezing in beside Michael, nestling close like a lost cub. Michael scowled momentarily, attempting to create some space. When that failed, he resigned himself with an audible sigh and leaned back against the booth. “You’re playing again!? Nathan said so. Where!?”
Jeremy brightened up in the presence of Michael’s youngest sibling. Garrett obviously worshipped the ground he walked on, even if he couldn’t understand why. He leaned his elbows on the table, craning forward as if sharing a secret the rest of the world wasn’t allowed to hear. “Yeah, we’re playing this weekend. Some sweet party in town. I don’t think you can go to that,” he was no stranger to letting his own younger siblings down gently. “But why don’t you come practice with us?”
His dark eyes soon found Michael, hopeful. He had been asking more for his presence, but Elizabeth and Garrett would take some much needed attention away from the rest of his brood. They often played together, entertaining each other, and Jeremy was free to work his magic.
Excitedly, Garrett turned to Michael with sparkling eyes and a wide grin on his face. “Can we go, please!?” He begged as if there was a chance that he would receive a rejection. But if there was a chance Michael didn’t have to babysit the children? He would take it.
“Yeah. Why not?”
“Score!” Jeremy pumped his fist in the air, nearly smacking a visibly disgruntled Sammy in the face. “Sorry, man.”
The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, threatening her golden glow over the quiet Reservation. A tired blue van slowed to a stop in front of a questionably built front porch that latched precariously on the front of an even older house with faded, chipping paint and blankets for curtains in the windows. “FAZBEAR ENTERTAINMENT” was painted along the side of the van in bright red, a vibrant beacon in contrast to the driver’s overwhelming exhaustion. Xavier stumbled out, slamming the car door shut behind himself as he ignored the angry voice calling out to him over a radio inside. Never again. That would be the last time Andy spoke to him, spoke at him rather.
Xavier stumbled through the front door, tossing his ever-important Data-Diver on the couch as he kicked his shoes off before stumbling inside. The kids were already at school, so he could breathe a sigh of relief that they weren’t around to hear his grievances. He smelled burning white sage from somewhere in the home. The overhead lights were off, which he was grateful for. They were too harsh for how exhausted he was. Sunshine poured through from different windows, the blanket-curtains tied to one side temporarily. ‘She must be in the kitchen.’ Likely cleaning up after an explosive breakfast from the children before they were rushed off to school.
But the noise of his entrance still roused her. “What’s going on?” Raksha, his wife, rounded the corner, armed with a skillet he knew to respect while in her custody. He had seen her beat grown men down with less. She visibly softened at the sight of her husband, who had been away far too long for what was supposed to be an eight hour shift that turned into a two day excursion. “Xavier…”
“I’m not going back,” he spat, tossing his Fazbear Technician hat aside. “That idiot almost killed me! This job isn’t for me, Raksha--” It was an unfortunate, almost damning revelation. It was bad enough that they had so few opportunities for work on Raksha’s reservation. But then the nearest town, Hurricane, yielded little more results. Fazbear Entertainment had been the best and most inclusive option by far.
“Xaves…” She breathed out softly, trying to calm him. “You’re exhausted. Take a shower… get some sleep, then tell me what happened.” She had never seen her husband look so worn-out before. Bloodshot eyes, tight curly hair hung limp and lifeless. She did not miss the stench of sweat; fear clung differently to a man in the aftermath of adrenaline. It was far more pungent. Whatever scared her husband so badly could be discussed after he rested. There was no point in getting him wound up again so soon after reaching the safety of his own home.
The Data-Diver was picked up shortly after he stalked out of the room and gently deposited on the heavy wooden coffee table. She would leave it there until they could pick up this conversation later. Much later.
After he got the rest he clearly needed.
-----
“You need to speak to our bosses,” Raksha urged. When Xavier didn’t respond, she placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Xaves, please. You need to tell them.”
“I’m not talkin’ to Mr. Emily,” he protested, turning his glare away to settle on some random corner in the room. His hands fidgeted nervously between them, one of his legs bouncing from the stress. “He’s a little off…”
Raksha nodded in understanding, even if her heart sank a little. “Well…” When in doubt-- She knew she could trust Clara with anything. They had raised their first borns together, coparented Jeremy and Michael from such a young age. Recently, Clara had been more with-drawn from the company, but she would never turn her back on them. “You can always talk to William.”
Now that brought Xavier pause, made him reconsider leaving FazEnt all together. William Afton was many things: eccentric, charming, beloved in the community. One of the few white men Xavier knew to be safe and trusted by those who society deemed were undesirable. Not many businesses were as openly de-segregated like Fazbear Entertainment right from their conception. But William Afton never even so much as spoke down to his non-white employees. Not the way Andy did-- never daring to be so hateful the way Andy was in that Dispatch office.
‘I told you to stop calling me Arnold. My first name’s Xavier!’
‘And I told you that Arnold is a perfectly Normal name. Stop trying to stand out, okay? Do your job and shut up.’
His blood boiled. “Yeah,” the agreement came with increasing certainty that something would be done about this problem employee. William spoke so sweetly to all those Murray’s Costume Manor employees jumping ship already... He wouldn’t dare allow this to happen if he knew about it. “Yeah.” Xavier stood from the couch, glaring at his discarded data diver. Andy had been adamant about getting it back. What would he do when Xavier hand-delivered it to Mr. Afton himself? What then? “Next time you see ‘im at Fredbears… You let me know, okay?”
-----
The workshop smelled of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke whenever William busied himself inside. There was a strong leathery spice and sandalwood that carried in the air around him. It blended well with the strong stench that puffed between his teeth and off the burning tobacco tip of his cigarette. A cold glass of gin sat at the end of the table, ice clinking against the glass with every touch. His hair was slicked back to keep out of his face and his sleeves were rolled up to avoid unwanted splatter of hydraulic fluid and oil on what was no doubt expensive formal attire. A dirty rag sat nearby, on the opposite end of his gin to avoid cross-contamination.
Despite his efforts as co-founder of the company, Xavier could admit that he scarcely ever saw William in Parts & Services. Henry was more likely to hide away in the back, avoiding the crowds that swelled the Front of House. Guest-facing was William’s domain. He thrived on their entertainment and often handled disputes for his employees to ensure satisfaction of all remained high. It left Xavier with the impression that his boss actually cared about more than just lining his pockets.
And with what he knows about the affluent Aftons? It made sense. William had more money than he knew what to do with. Why should he care about raking in more and pinching pennies and nickels? He was in this for the love of the game.
“Mr. Afton?” That’s why he needed to speak up about Andy. The Data-Diver was held tightly in hand, pressed against his chest as he shut the door behind himself and stepped further into the room. William hummed, acknowledging he heard Xavier, urging him to continue. “I gotta talk to you about Andy.”
William paused his work now, turning to face Xavier. “What’s that idiot done this time?” He plucked the cigarette from his lips and held it delicately between his index and middle finger. Silver eyes were locked on his employee, narrowing dangerously. He could only imagine what had transpired to cause Xavier to come to him. They were close to The Fitzgeralds, their kids were almost always seen together…. But Xavier often kept to himself. It was his wife that was far more social, dragging him along in her adventures.
As a show of good will, Xavier stepped closer and placed the Data-Diver on the work table for William. “I got it… Whatever you were lookin’ for. The schematics. All of it, from Murray’s.” Those silver eyes lit up, but William was far too good at masking to let his excitement overwhelm him. This moment of triumph could be celebrated later. He had an image to uphold, with company present. “I don’t know what went down b’tween you and ‘im…” Xavier continued. “But what I saw there… The bodies. Mr. Afton, there were so many dead people stuffed in those suits back there.”
He felt his throat close up. His body began to tremble with the memories, the smell. “Andy wouldn’t even get me out of there. Wouldn’t even consider rescuing me..! He called me a dog, Mr. Afton! Is this the kind of business you run!?”
William stood abruptly, resting his hands on Xavier’s shoulders. “Xavier… It wounds me to hear you say this. Are we not friends? I would never want to hurt you, or put you in any uncomfortable--”
Xavier pulled back, feeling patronised and condescended. “Mr. Afton, this is serious! That bastard’s a racist and almost got me killed!!”
There was a moment of silence. Then another. William took a slow drag of his cigarette and nodded, his silver eyes turned away-- deep in thought. “Yes,” he answered out loud. “I believe you. Do you trust me, Xavier?”
How trust came into play was beyond Xavier. But he knew better than to argue with his own boss. That was on the fast-track to lose his job. “You know I do, sir.”
William’s smile returned. He sat back in his chair, his gaze back on the project he had been working on prior. It was wise to not gawk and fawn over the Data-Diver while Xavier was still present. “Then trust me to take care of this. Alright? I won’t tolerate it, I assure you.”
To Xavier, it still felt like his concerns were being brushed aside…. But what more could he do?
“Take some time off. Let me handle this, alright?” William tilted his head back, smoke billowing between his teeth when he spoke. “A week off! Paid--” He added, noting the way his employee almost protested. “I want to ensure you’re taken care of. You’re not in trouble either. I would just… prefer a smooth transition.”
Transition into what? Xavie grit his teeth and nodded. “Yeah. I hear ya. Thanks, Mr. Afton.” Even if he wasn’t so confident in whatever came next.
-----
“Mr. Afton!” The last thing Andy expected was to see his boss. William scarcely showed himself in the administration offices, much preferring to keep company back at Fredbear’s. He couldn’t understand why, with how quickly they were expanding after the Murray’s Costume Manor acquisition. There were talks of two more restaurants in the works, with characters and animatronic designs already underway. To Andy’s own surprise, Fazbear Entertainment was much more lucrative than expected. Or, perhaps, all that old Afton money was getting flushed down the drain for -- whatever delusions William and Henry convinced themselves of. Whatever the case may be, William was still his boss- and still standing in the doorway of his criminally small workspace. Andy sat upright, shoulders rolled back when facing his employer to show respect. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
William shut the door behind himself, a casual smile on his face. Smoke billowed lazily from the tip of his cigarette. “Andrew, is it?” His silver eyes stared at the name plate seated at the front of Andy’s desk. “I hear you sent Xavier out to Murray’s for the schematics recently.”
Andy’s shoulders tensed. He swallowed hard, feeling his throat closing with anxiety. The Data-Diver. Panic set in tenfold, his hands dropping to his lap to fidget. “I’ve tried calling Arnold these last few days-- He has the Data-Diver, sir. The damn fool just isn’t answering--”
“Xavier.” William corrected with a purr, stepping closer to flick the ashes of his cigarette on Andy’s desk. “Fazbear Entertainment believes in equal opportunity, Andrew! We wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.” He spoke as if reciting some code of conduct Andy couldn’t remember reading. There was a detachment in his words, a faux warmness that television hosts use when delivering the daily news. One of William’s hands rested on Andy’s desk as he leaned closer, towering over with his much taller form. “I have a reputation to uphold, Andrew. Am I to believe you would threaten that for your own--” The cigarette was flicked over Andy, dangerously close to his face. “--selfish, small minded delights? Why, your ignorance could bring my whole company down! And what is it that you told Xavier?” Silver eyes narrowed dangerously as the smile dropped. The facade of an easy-going boss was lost in an instant, revealing the ugly truth beneath. “Stop trying to stand out? Do your job and shut up?”
All at once, Andy couldn’t pull in enough air in his lungs. He loosened the tie around his neck and sank down in his chair. “M-- Mr. Afton, I know you don’t understand. Things work differently across the pond, right?”
William stood upright so quickly that Andy jumped in his seat. “Are you insulting my intelligence?” There was a growl to his words. “Answer quickly. I am less forgiving than my business partner.”
He knew he had gone too far. The words choked out in Andy’s throat, forming a lump when his boss stepped closer. He had never seen William so cold before; sharp as ice and twice as deadly. William leaned closer, one of his hands slammed on the desk top again to steady himself.
“Nothing to say?” That smooth British voice was dripping in venom. “Look at you… So bold when you talk down on my employees. Creating problems in my house and bringing this… unsavory business to my door, Andrew. It’s not good for me, or for you. I don’t have the patience for it, I’m running an empire. And you will consider this your last day a part of it. Am I understood?”
Andy nodded, the dread settling heavily in his gut. He didn’t dare move from his chair as William circled around the desk and approached him, moving the chair so he faced his boss. “But before I send you on your way… I have one more proposition for you. A chance at redemption! How does that sound?” He held his hand out in offering.
Andy wasn’t sure what for, but he took it eagerly. Some of the dread began to wane when William shook his hand gently before the grip tightened almost painfully. “Good,” he continued on. “Let’s put that fiery spirit of yours to good use, shall we?”
-----
[ One Week Later ]
Xavier wished he could enjoy those days off more. He wished he could clear his mind of the memories, but Andy’s words had a way of digging deep and getting so far under his skin that his blood boiled. He was not keen on William’s response either, how careless the other man seemed. To say there was some worry about his concerns being brushed off, or that Andy might talk his way out of this somehow, was very real. He wasn’t sure he could handle the sight of William and Andy together, the betrayal that would settle in and do something irreversible to their relationship.
His steps were heavy on the way to his work van, dragging through the dirt. Xavier wrenched his door open and sat heavily in the driver’s seat, his van shaking and creaking in response. One heavy sigh later and he turned the key in the ignition, starting up the engine before turning on the CB radio. Another moment later and he spoke into it: “This is Xavier Fitzgerald, signing on.”
Instead of the usual condescension that was so Andy, a woman responded with a pleasant tone: “Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald!”
Xavier wasn’t sure what to think of it at first. He blinked in surprise, then remembered she couldn’t see his expression. “Where’s Andy?”
She didn’t hesitate with her answer either: “Fazbear Entertainment has decided to part with Mr. Andrew! I am his replacement. Will that be a problem?”
Now, that was the best news Xavier could have heard. He sat a little more upright, a genuine smile on his face as he settled comfortably in his seat. “No problem at all, Ma’am. Where am I going, first?”
He would never doubt William Afton again.
-----
She was looking for the new character designs. That was the reason why Clara rummaged about her husband’s office in their home: seeking out the new designs, so she could get to the drawing board and work on a logo for the new restaurant they were working on. Something about Toy designs…
But the more she dug, the more her curiosity was piqued. There was more here than the usual business slop that bored her, and she would be remiss to deny her questions about the Murray’s collaboration. It had all happened so fast…
One week, her husband was linking arms with Edwin. The next, he’s dragging the man’s name and business through the mud in every conversation. It was unlike him to act in such a way, so every one he spoke to (herself included) took his word at face value. Who would dare to cross the good-natured William Afton? But the documents she found were painting a different picture entirely.
Her mission to find the new character designs was abandoned entirely.
“William…” Clara’s shoulders rolled back, her spine stiff when the realization dawned on her. She clung to the papers in her hands, nearly crumpling them with the force of her grip. Green eyes shifted towards her husband; she had always known him to be ambitious. It used to be something she adored him for, his unwillingness to back down no matter what stood against him. He was clever, careful, but never malicious. Not in her experience, at least; not until now. The proof was so plainly written out; he had seized someone’s company right out from under them. She almost couldn’t believe it and turned her attention back, dropping the papers on the table as if their contents burned her. The print never changed; it was just as damning as before.
William’s hands found her waist, his touch gentle. He pressed against his wife’s back, peering down over her shoulder at his conquest, barely masking his smile in the process. “Oh, Clara.” His words were dripping in amusement, purring. “I know this isn’t what you want to see. But in the business world, it’s eat or be eaten.” His thumbs rubbed small circles against her. “I was securing our legacy.”
Clara turned, disgusted with him at that moment. She glared up at him, her upper lip curling so he could see her disdain with his actions and with his attempt to placate her. “Unnecessary cruelty,” she corrected with the same harshness she afforded their children. “The Spirits will get you for this.”
William’s smile turned wicked. In the animal kingdom, baring teeth was often considered a threat display. Clara believed that to be true with her husband as she stared up at him, feeling ice spread through her veins. “Your ‘spirits’ were killed a long time ago, my dear. They have no power here.”
