Cats in the Cradle Pt. 2 (FNAF Fanfic)
(@basilculverin)
The party had finished up, and soon with it came closing time. Of course, the playplace held many secrets, but one among many was that this location mostly, if not entirely, recruited criminals. It wasn't that they didn't do background checks - in fact, it seemed Afton specifically fished for prospective workers with shady backgrounds.
Why exactly? For days like this. He needed people used to keeping their mouths shut and their heads down. The kind of people where, even if they -did- see something, they'd keep quiet; putting fear into teens only worked some of the time, after all, this was a more sure-fire bet.
Such logic applied to Milo as well, the cook. He used to work for the mob back in New York, and he was well versed in being told to get out of a room and stay out, no matter what, even if that room was where he was supposed to be working. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, above his pay grade and all that, but he figured it had to be something big; a guy doesn't set up all this just to get his rocks off, does he?
Regardless, he was cleaning the kitchen and putting stuff away, glancing up towards the broken old camera in the far corner of the room, huffing with a smirk. Yeah, 'not enough in the budget to fix it', sure buddy. He didn't need to be a genius to put two-and-two together, between how many times he'd been told to scram and how long that camera had been busted.
He shrugged, putting away the tools before heading to the fridge, looking over the various containers to check the dates. As he did so, his nose scrunched up, looking to one large container in the back he swore wasn't there before, and fucking hell did it reek. His brow furrowed, and he huffed again. Must've been in a hurry, that freak...he sighed, shaking his head, hefting up the container in his arms.
Didn't know who it was, would be dead if he knew, but he knew damn well it wasn't a matter of 'what', but who; he'd lived more than long enough to know that. He stared at it for a moment, even being used to the scent of blood this particular stench was unpleasant. Well...back home, his boss always liked fellas to get 'lost in the sauce' as it were, but he should probably ask before he did anything.
He put the container down on the counter, wiping off his arms on his apron before heading down, down towards Afton's office. As he passed over the flickering old bulb and through the hall, he stopped just shy of the door, hearing Afton's voice muffled. He inched a bit closer; not really meaning to eavesdrop, or at least that's what he told himself anyways, more just trying to see when he stopped talking so he didn't interrupt.
"I'm sorry ma'am, I've looked all over but all I've found is his bib. You can come pick it up tomorrow, but I'm afraid that's all I can provide." He paused to listen, presumably to the phone he was speaking into. "Oh, yes...I'm sure she is. Poor thing...don't worry, he probably just ran out to play and got lost. Now get some sleep, dear, you must be a wreck."
He paused to listen again, then hummed. "Yes, you're welcome. Good night." He hung up, and after another beat of silence, Milo finally rose his hand to knock. "Come in." Afton said swiftly, Milo swinging open the door. The man himself was leaned back in his chair, a wide, satisfied grin on his face as he swiveled in his chair to stare at Milo. Fuck, that smile...Milo shook it off, then cleared his throat.
"Sorry boss, but I found some uh...out of date, product-" he said with emphasis and an uncertain wave of his hand. "-and I wanted to know what you wanted me to do with it." William's eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed. That awful, awful smile... "Toss it. Dumpsters where the trash goes, and it's trash now." He said with a sadistic little giggle.
Milo shrugged. "Alright, whatever you say, boss." The 'add to the food' bit was more effective, he thought, got rid of evidence better - but he didn't dare say that out loud. He headed right back of William's office and back towards the kitchen. William stood and closed the door, and let out a long, wistful sigh. He sat back down at his desk, retrieving a Lost and Found box from underneath it, and sitting it in his lap.
Within was various trinkets he'd kept from the birthday party earlier; he had half a dozen boxes at least just like it, but this one...this one was special. He didn't usually work with others - at least, not on things like this. Not because he was unwilling to, just cause he didn't meet many like him. Even employing criminals, no one really understood - except the birthday girl, he thought to himself with a smirk, fingers trailing over the Let's Eat bib the boy had been wearing.
He liked to keep trophies, so he figured, clean up the bib all nice and neat, let the boy's mom pick it up tomorrow, and suggest Maggie keep it to 'remember her friend by'. Boom, first trophy, easy peasy. Oh, how he hoped she visited next year, and year after that too...
Meanwhile, Milo hefted the container back up and headed out the back door of the kitchen, towards the dumpster. As he did so, one of the streetlamps nearby started to flicker, sputtering on and off against the light of the moon. He ignored it, heading straight up to the dumpster, setting down the container for a moment to heft the doors of it open. But as soon as they swung forth-
"I DON'T LIKE THIS GAME!" A boy's voice shrieked out, loud and piercing as a banshee's scream, making the man jump back with a yelp and fall hard on his back upon the concrete. He gasped for breath, eyes wide and staring as the garbage seemed to rustle, heart pounding against his ribcage. As soon as he caught his breath, he shot to his feet, racing over to the dumpster.
He didn't know what the fuck was in there, if there even was anything or it was just his guilty conscious - it didn't matter, it was staying in! He slammed the dumpster down hard and put the hefty container on top of the lid, the lid seeming to jostle once or twice before it stopped. He panted, sweaty and heart still pounding.
His heart only settled several minutes later, after a smoke break where he spent most of it staring terrified at the dumpster. He must've just imagined it, imagined whatever he heard and saw, but...he'd been on way worst clean up jobs, and he never had anything like that happen. Maybe the pressure was building up...
Either way, he finished his smoke break, and the rest of his work, and piled into his rusted junker of a car. He didn't dare bring it up to Afton; he doubted he wanted to hear some bum of a lacky go on about his hallucinations.
But even as much as he tried to shake it off, he could've sworn, as he drove out and away from the pizzeria, he saw a little boy, standing under the flickering streetlight...
