Chapter Text
William Afton’s struggling steps were loud in the underground tunnels, but at this point, he could care less. Getting away from that melted slag heap had not been easy. Sure, it had accidentally saved him from burning to death again, but it had been eager to keep its new prize.
He regretted making Funtime Freddy that aggressive, in retrospect. Of course that one would be the primary AI in control.
But that was water under the bridge. That had been exploded several times.
With several clanks and a mechanical whine, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He then paused, as he felt something… Off. One hand came up to brush the top of his head. There was the remnants of the old fur, and then two metal nubs.
He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.
While the confrontation with the little brat had not ended the way he had planned, it had at least given him one good thing. The damn rabbit ears were finally off the suit.
The wheezy rattle coming through a mouth that no longer had access to a trachea or lungs startled something small that scurried across the floor, and the only thing that made him stop was noticing that it was dirty white.
It wasn’t a rat. Or a particularly large roach either. It looked like…
Well. This would be interesting. The last time he had seen that thing had been back when this pizzeria had burnt down the first time.
He wondered if someone else had survived along with the tiny animatronic. What muscles that were left in his face drew back in the garish memory of a smile.
While he wanted to find that brat and the traitor Freddy to take his vengeance, it would be much easier if he didn’t look like a shambling corpse, and his little plaything wasn’t an option. The disadvantage of getting disconnected, he supposed.
But if his guess was right, maybe there would be another option.
If there was anything he had learned from his lifetime of hunting and killing, it was patience. His prey was skittish, and his limp made it difficult to soften his heavy steps.
But he found that if he sat still and dimmed the glow of his eyes, then the Helpy wouldn’t notice him.
Over the course of several days, he could see a pattern that it followed. Sometimes dragging scraps, sometimes empty handed, but no matter where it roamed, it kept going down one tunnel.
It also helped that it spoke to itself at times. Nothing that definitively answered the question he had, but enough to grant him insight on its movements.
When he knew it would be out for a while, he would take the opportunity to move towards whatever it was hiding. Always staying in the shadows, and never moving too quickly.
Until he heard it make a comment about needing to travel really far for something he didn’t care to remember the name of. It wouldn’t matter in the long run.
Once the light steps quieted in the distance, he waited. His steps would echo louder and further than the Helpy’s, and he didn’t want it coming back too quickly. While he was bigger than it was, he didn’t want to risk it interfering.
Standing was difficult, and his shuffling gate, while faster than his usual pace, didn’t feel fast enough. He didn’t pay much attention when the floor changed to a familiar tiled pattern, and at the end of the tunnel was a door where a faint light crept out of the cracks.
It was propped, making it easier for him to grab and throw it open. The hinges were ripped from the frame in his haste, but he could finally see his prize.
A brown haired man that was pinned up to his chest under a collapsed desk and so much detritus snapped his head up to look at him. At least his skin looked a bit more natural, even if it was pale from lack of sunlight.
Talking was hard, but he felt he owed his son the honor of hearing his voice again. “Hello, Michael.”
“YOU?” The venom in Michael’s voice would have been more intimidating if his position wasn’t so laughably vulnerable.
But as they were, William had the upper hand, and he was going to take his time. “Surprised to see me?”
Michael raised a middle finger instead of talking.
It was almost cute how quickly he devolved into the bratty teenager William still remembered. He let out a laugh before saying, “Aww, that’s no way to treat your father!”
Michael attempted to lift himself, but could only push himself up a few inches before having to collapse again. The pitiful attempt was mostly ignored as William took in the rest of the room.
There was a strange contraption in the room that was attached to the remains of the desk, and he was pretty sure there was a car jack in the corner. This must be what the Helpy had been doing. Attempting to make something that would free Michael.
Well, he was much bigger and stronger than that tiny waste of metal. “Let me help you out.”
“I don’t want-” Whatever was said was lost as William placed his clawed hands under the wood on either side of Michael and deadlifted the weight. When Michael didn’t move, William placed one heavy foot on his back, and dragged him out.
The screams of pain from the action were ignored. He only cared that he didn’t accidentally rip off the legs, and other than some scratches on Michael’s back, he’d be fine.
It also made it easy for William to simply place his weight on him to keep him from escaping. “Where do you think you’re going?” He dug the exposed metal appendage into Michael’s back to emphasize his point. “Mikey, I just have one big favor to ask of you. You know, as payment for unpinning you.”
“I didn’t ask!”
Ignoring the scrambling body beneath him, William continued as he pulled wires from the wreckage, “I know what happened with Circus Baby and Ennard. They thought it would be fun for me to know the, ah, gory details of what they did to you. I guess so I would know that they planned on wearing me like a meat suit. Sorry about that, by the way.” He followed the apology with a wheezy laugh. As if he hadn’t known what would happen to any poor schmuck who bore a passing resemblance to him.
Once he had enough wiring, he first pinned one of Michael’s legs, and got back kicked in the face with the other. “Stay still.” The earlier levity had evaporated, but before Michael could try again, one clawed hand held his legs together like a vice.
It wasn’t easy tying a knot with one hand and a struggling target, but he made it work. He then had to turn his body around while still keeping Michael pinned, and then he got to work on the arms.
At this point, Michael must have gotten some idea in his head that he could call for help. Helpy, to be exact. As the tiny animatronic’s name kept coming out of his mouth, William seriously considered ripping out Michael’s tongue for just a little bit of quiet.
But that would be counterproductive for his purposes, so he soldiered on in his task.
Once Michael was appropriately tied up, William finally removed his foot so that he could pick him up. The now useless contraption was able to serve a new purpose as he hung Michael up with the wires not unlike a pig corpse on a hook.
The shredded and decaying shirt covering Michael’s torso offered little resistance against the clawed fingers as they cut a line through the fabric and exposed his heavily scarred body. The cool metal then traced the longest scar that bisected his chest and stomach causing him to try and twitch his body backwards.
“Hmm, a shame it closed up,” William said with mild disappointment. That would make things a little more difficult. “Oh well, it’s not like you filled back in yet, so there should be plenty of room. And more room can always be made.” One claw pressed between the collarbones, drawing blood and a gasp of pain from Michael.
William couldn’t contain the mania in his voice as he said, “Isn’t Remnant wonderful? We’re still here because of it, after all.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Michael snapped, but William was well accustomed to hearing past the false bravado people put up at the end. The breathlessness gave it away.
“Crazy smart!” The retort was playful. “With your body and my mind, I’ll be able to walk the world again.”
He pushed the pointed claw deeper into Michael’s chest, this time drawing a proper scream of pain, along with expletives that would make a sailor blush. Along with how much Michael was trying to squirm out of the admittedly weak knots, William was again getting irritated at how uncooperative his son was being.
With his free hand, he drew back and slapped Michael hard enough that if he wasn’t immortal, the blow would have killed him. “Shut up! I did not teach you such foul language.”
With his head hanging at an angle that should not have been possible, Michael screamed, “Oh, fuck off and die!”
“You’ve already tried to kill me. I always come back.”
The argument halted when a flurry of light steps echoed down the hall, making William turn away from his prize to find the intruder.