Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

William Afton and Henry Emily, til the day they both would die tied together in fire and pain, shared one passionate love. While some might assume it was each other, while some might assume it was their lives or their passions, no - it was entertainment.

They were the product, through various means and reasons, of a society that valued entertainment and pleasantries over actual accomplishment. They were the precursors, perhaps the pioneers of a generation of gluttonous audiences desperate for fulfillment in shared experience. They loomed, like Louis and Clark, plotting a path that began with the Chicago World’s Fair in 1905 and would end with their own contribution to Americana and human culture.

“So you’ve never been?” Will had taken over driving duties, the three adults and four children packed into the station wagon in a hideous image crafted by corporate America. Henry, sitting up front, was tapping his fingers and staring at the California landscape.

“Nope.” Henry shrugged. He stared out the window, “My dad was uh - a bit…” he said nothing and stared, “We didn’t do Disneyland. You?”

“I went once.” This was not Easter, this was not a high holy day for William James Afton. This was however one of the few places, the few people, that impressed him into silence and reverence, “I was about…10 I think. Maybe.” the taller thin man shook his head, “No. No I was about 7.”

“Really.” Henry sounded interested, “I knew you’d been to the United States. I did not know that you had been to Disneyland.”

“Oh yes.” William nodded, “I have been.” he focused on the whirling roads and the slowly greening hills, “Yes I have.”
—

It had been for some traveling exhibit. Just before Nana had died, returning to England and the gray and gloom of the land he called home. It wasn’t the world’s fair. He would have remembered that (he had longed to go, he remembered that much. There was other work to be done.) No, it was something his father had been doing and the family had somehow gotten it into their heads that they should go and visit Walt Disney’s greatest folly.

(or his greatest accomplishment. Take your pick.)

“Don’t bloody see why we’d have to go.” James Afton was smoking a cigarette, pulling into the parking lot, “Brat’s not gonna remember is he?”

(James Afton operated under the assumption his spawn was either 5 or 25 at varying points during the day.)

“Put on an ounce of decorum.” Jacqueline Dubois - Afton had been good money who had fallen for a low man. (The Afton men were low and tended to attract charming beautiful women attracted to their animal magnetism.) “Please. Please Johnny. It’s-” she stared at nothing for a moment, “Just fucking do it.”

“Why?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and in the back a tiny William Afton had awoken, tumbled from his seat, promptly whimpered, covered his whimper, and then moved to the door, “Americans don’t know shit about decorum and proper behavior. Why do I have to behave?”

William did not hear his mother mutter neither do you but his father did. The two began to yell as he ignored them, peering up and jumping between the cars to try and see the shapes in the distance, “Father! Mother! It’s the castle! Look! It’s the castle! That’s the castle!”

“We can see it.” His mother was wincing when she turned the corner, “It’s a castle. Good job. We have lots of castles. You’ve seen Buckingham Palace.”

Yes but it was not a real castle. Buckingham Palace was not a real castle, it was there and solid and never shifted. This place was - at least it appeared to be - bright and colorful and magical. Like someone had taken a page out of a storybook. His father grabbed him, yanking him along the parking lot. He tripped and pain blossomed on the younger man’s knee but he knew his father wouldn’t stop to help him. He bit back tears, ignored the blood dripping down his leg, and continued to move toward paradise.

“Welcome folks.” The ticket booths were small and quaint with lovely details. The best part however was the smile, the glorious smile on the nice lady’s face, “Welcome!” She knelt to look William in the eye and he shrank back, “ How ya doing partner! Are you ready to hit the dusty trails!”

(As an adult, William Afton would find the transformation that Disney had perfected fascinating. Bury the pain they were all feeling beneath a smile. Box it in, weld it into the soul. Take your pain and hurt and misery and difference and hide it beneath a dazzling smile. He was in pain, his knee hurt. His arm hurt when his father had tugged him along like a disobedient dog, but it all vanished in the pretty lady’s smile.

He hated, he loathed, he wanted to kill - but he could bury it all behind a winning smile.)

“We’re here.” his father’s thin lips pressed together, “Hooray.”

“Oh! Y’all are from England!” the woman’s eyes were bright, “That’s amazing! I love your accents.”

William found Americans funny. He still found them funny (albeit for different reasons). One of the biggest reasons was they worshiped people with English accents. Pat the Yankees on the head son like the good dogs they are. They don’t know any better than to be loud and impressed by normal people. They were loud, swirling in bright colors and shrieking at each other with high voices.

“We are.” Will nodded. He beamed right back at her, “I’m from Yorkshire. Do you know where that is? It’s not just pudding don’t believe it we have-”

“William.” His mother pinched him hard on his shoulder, “Don’t distract the nice lady.” her smile was a bit less acidic then her husband’s as she passed their tickets to the attendant who kept smiling, “I’m sorry. He’s an idiotic little thing isn’t he?”

“Oh he’s just darling! I’ll think of pudding when I think of you, you little cutie!” She mimed poking at his nose and he squirmed in his father’s grasp. He’d been overweight and the way the woman looked at him had gone from nice and friendly to mocking - but before he could formulate an opinion they were in the gates. They were staring at the two halves of the park. The left and the right.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

—-

“Okay.” Henry had shouldered Charlie, already panting but grinning as he passed through the door, “Holy shit. Man look at this!”

“It is impressive isn’t it?” he turned to Michael and Charlie and was pleased to see the six year olds were shocked into awe. Charlie started, open mouthed, and pointed at the collection of flowers, “Daddy! Daddy that looks like Mickey Mouse!”

“Sure does peanut! Howabout a picture?” He paused, glancing around, “Hey could anybody take the-could you-” he stared and Will strode forward, “I’ll take it. Go stand next to Charlotte.”

“Oh no.” Henry looked offended, “This is a family trip, this is a family trip we need family photos. I’m not doing it.”

“Henry-” Charlotte was staring at the gates, “You have about a five minute window to get a photo with a five year old Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

In the wake of their altercation, Henry’s eyes went wide and he frowned. Stay away from my wife and children. William watched the other man’s tentative smile grow surer, “You’ve got the next one bud. I promise.” He beamed, “In fact- Here. Take it quick.”

“Father?” Michael blinked, “Father how come you’re not going to be in the picture? I want you to take your picture with me, I-”

“Michael.” William gestured, “Go stand next to Uncle Henry and your mother.” he picked up the kodak and gestured, “Squeeze together and say Mickey Mouse!”

“Mickey Mouse!”

The photo froze the family in time before Henry moved forward, playfully shoving him forward and handing the camera to Suzanne, “C’mon man. We stand on the shoulders of geniuses!” He wrapped an arm around him and William let himself feel happy as Michael toddled to him and raised his arms. He picked him up and lifted him, though the sun caught the six year old in the eye. When the photo came out he’d frowned. Somehow Michael and Henry had come out fine, but the glare had left William a dark smear on the photo.

It was fine. There were plenty of opportunities for photos later.
“See this?” He gestured, “This is Main Street USA.”

“What’s a main street?” Charlie stared at them, “Is that what it’s called? Main street?” She kicked at a curb and frowned, “There’s no cans to kick.” she had been obsessed with kicking things lately. Henry had bought her a soccer ball and she’d been throwing and catching it and kicking it into everything including human shins. Frequently.

“That’s the whole point.” William strode forward looking as stern and proprietary as an executive despite wearing cargo shorts and a massive floppy sun hat, “See them?” He pointed at the people shuffling around the street with those cardboard cartoon smiles, “Those are the people that work here. And they keep everything - and I mean everything squeaky clean.

It was perfect. No questions. No mess. No nothing.

Michael was taking it all in, warily watching all of it, “It’s so big.” He murmured, “Is Mickey here? Do you know Mickey Mouse?”

“Nobody knows Mickey Mouse Mike.” Charlie said matter of factly, “He’s Mickey Mouse. He’s too important to know people except people who work here.”

“I bet our dads know.” Mike sounded confident, staring around nervously at all the screaming cheering people, “Right father? You know?”

Michael Afton, Charlie Emily, and the family were gone in William Afton’s mind.
—

A little known fact about Disneyland, or theme parks in general, was that they stemmed from the world’s fair - or the international expos.

The irony (the sheer bone-and-brain rotting irony) of the world’s fair that inspired Disney and so inspired Fazbear and so helped grow the seeds of Hollywood - was that it had spawned so much American history. The 1905 world’s fair led Elias Disney to Chicago where he’d help support his family by building the world’s fair. His son would one day build a park where Samuel Ferris’s invention - the Ferris wheel - would be hosted. The Ferris wheel had been America’s response to the Eiffel tower.

And America’s first known serial killer or spree killer, H.H Holmes would take some of his victims to the place that Disney had built and Ferris had made amazing - to hunt his victims.

None of this was known to William Afton (though if he did he might have found it hysterically funny) but in 1958 when he was a child, he was secure, contented. His father purchased a map, frowning over it before turning it over to his wife, “I don’t see what’s so spectacular about this. It looks like a bloody carnival, just more rooted to the ground.”

“There’s a tea party!” William pointed. He was bursting at the seams, “There’s a tea party and Mr. Toad in Toad Hall and a carousel!” Toad hall was of particular interest, “Can we go see Mr. Toad first?”

“Be quiet.” James didn’t look at him, “You’re shouting and people will be displeased with you and I will be embarrassed.”

“Please father.”

“All right then.” James Afton sighed with the weary sound thousands of parents make when faced with excited children, “Calm down. Don’t mess yourself you little shit.” He waved a hand, “Let’s take it slow. One pace at a time.”

One should know better than to ask a child to pace slowly in a place that wasn’t filled with such heady excitement. Kicking his feet and studying all the bright and smiling people, eyes following the balloon’s - the child’s eyes alighted on a figure that had gathered a crowd.

“Father! It’s Mickey Mouse!”

Nothing else mattered. Abuse, pain, the constant worry of humanity’s existence faded away for William James Afton, “Father we have to go and thank him! We’re his guests. We have to. Pay respects just like we would to the queen-”

James Afton raised a hand and casually knocked his son to the ground without a thought, “Don’t you dare associate that rat and his flea - bitten nag filled farm with her majesty…”

“James.” Jaqueline’s features were cool. She helped her son up-

(Later, digesting the scene, he’d note that his mother had been seen. Hitting your children, well, that was raising them. Knocking them to the ground as a cat would swat a mouse was not…well. Something was quite off. about it wasn’t it?)

And brushed him off, “Let’s go and thank the king.” her tone was mocking, “Let’s go see your pathetic little God.”

He was nothing if not polite. He was a good little boy. Straightening, he’d nodded mutely, eyes bright, accepting, trusting - as he’d bounded off toward the mouse.
—

“I haven’t been here in years apparently.” He turned the map over in his hands, “Though I’d like to visit the haunted mansion and the pirates ride.”

Michael’s eyes had gone wide when his father said pirates, “Father, can you and I go see the pirates?”

“It doesn’t look like there’s anything for me to do.” Clara sounded resentful. She winced, rubbing at the back of her neck, “That’s fine. I’ll go find a place to sit with Evan and Elizabeth.”

“Don’t be silly.” Henry smiled, “We’ll trade off while we shift Mikey and Charlie to the rides.” He grinned, “How about it guys? What do you want to do first?” he considered the map, “Yes there is a pirate ride and there’s a ghost ride…”

“I want ghosts and pirates.” Michael looked up sharply and smiled at his father, “I want spooky things.”

William reflected once again on how much he appreciated his oldest son.

(It had been six months and he was on the verge of turning seven. There were no other opportunities to explore Michael’s bloodlust. As offensive as that felt here given his circumstances the boy’s desire for scary things was a step in the right direction.)

“I want ghosts.” Charlie murmured, “Dad? Can we go to the ghost house first?”

“Tell you what.” Henry was staring at Clara and William suppressed the hair bristling on the back of his neck, “Why don’t I stay with Evan and Liz? You two can trade off. Clara, you could take Charlie to Mansion and Will, you and Mike can hit pirates.” he sat, smiling in the shade of the New Orleans trees, “I kind of want to take it in.”

The other two adults traded glances and William found himself annoyed. It was just like Henry, to sit so peacefully and just stare at the scenery and the milling crowds of people, “...Well. That’s fine with me.”

“No!” Charlie frowned, “Dad I want to go with you!” The little girl looked ready to stamp her feet and William bit back a growl of annoyance, “I’m sorry Aunt Clara but…”

“Charlie.” Henry pulled his daughter closer, focusing on his child, “Apologize, to your aunt Clara. She won’t get to go on rides if she just watches the kids. She deserves a break too, don't you agree?”

“Uncle Will should watch-”

“Sweetheart won’t you come with me?” Clara took the little girl’s hand, putting herself between Charlie and William, “Please? I’m very scared of ghosts.” she smiled, “I need a little protector and Michael is going to go play pirates. You know how he loves pirates.”

“...I-okay.” she nodded, “I can do that yeah. Then we can switch.” She nodded, smiling, “Or dad and I can go.” she looked like she would have preferred the latter, bright eyes bouncing, “But I am very good at battling ghosts and monsters.”

“You all go off, have fun.” Henry sat and lifted Evan out of his baby carrier, “Then we’ll switch. Plus that’s the great thing about this place Charlie-bear.” he beamed, “This place isn’t going anywhere.”

William didn’t know what bothered him more. That Henry was being so kind, or that he was holding Evan and the small child was managing not to cry. This place was a sacred place and if Easter was his sacred day…

“Charlotte- Charlie.” William resisted the urge to sneer, “When Michael and I have finished at Pirates, I’ll send your father to you okay?”

“Okay!” She beamed and Henry smiled - William taking pleasure in seeing how shocked the other man looked. She bounced off, practically pulling Clara along. Michael stared at his father, standing at his side before William looked back at his friend, “Are you going to be all right?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned, “Like I said. Getting ideas. First stop diner, next stop - Fazworld.” His grin was genuine, “...Think you and I could do pirates? Maybe copy all the designs and get rich?”

William snorted, gently holding out his hand for Michael to take. Father and son paced beneath the bridge, moving up towards an antiquated antebellum home.

“Was this here when you were?” Michael reached for a chain and began to hang off it, “With grandmother and grandfather? Or was it just you? I bet it was just you. I bet you came in and you rode all the rides and there were games and-”

“Where are you getting this?” he leaned back on the railing, “I was here with your grandfather and grandmother. Before your great-grandmother passed, they tried to-” he stared at nothing, “Distract me by taking me to the United States.”

It was rather jarring, to leave a beloved family member and return to their funeral. I didn’t want you bitching. You loved that hag and would have wanted to be with her every second of every day. Father did not love nana. Father winced when she screamed and he’d taught himself to laugh as she’d hit him.

(Her body is cold in the casket. She’s a limp sack of meat and flesh, no kind eyes, no smiles that were just for him. Perhaps if he had been there she would still be alive and he already despised his mother and father but they had killed her because he hadn’t been there to prevent her from being a cold and ornery bitch who beat his own father mercilessly.)

“That’s mean.”

“Yes it was.” He smiled, “It was very mean. But none of that matters. I don’t like to talk about bad things here.”

“Why?”

They stood in a line full of shouting children and laughing barking Americans. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the cool comforting area ahead of them. It even smelled pleasant.

“We’re guests in Mickey’s kingdom. And we must always be polite.”
—-

William found Mickey Mouse delightful. There was a line of chattering children surrounding the American icon, babbling and shouting with books and pens. He should have gotten one but instead he found himself shuffled into a line, watching child after child pass in front of him before he got to Mickey himself.

“Mister Mouse sir my name is William-”

“That’s Mickey stupid!” a little girl behind him shouted, “Stop trying to talk to him and just hug him so we can go!”

“Your accent’s dumb!” an older boy shouted, “Fag! You sound like a fucking fag!”

Mickey obviously hadn’t heard these taunts against him and William, desperate to preserve the peace in front of his inky black God, threw himself into the creature’s arms and felt…

A body.

A human body.

Really it was quite ridiculous because his first thought was horror. He withdrew, staring at the flash of a camera looking shocked before he backed away. Mickey isn’t real.

Well obviously. Mickey wasn’t real. Santa Claus wasn’t real either-

(Santa Claus was a joke for little fools that people had played on each other for centuries. Get people to love you enough to give you gifts little Billy. Expect nothing from anyone. his nana had said. You think we’ve got time for gifts for the likes of you? )

The idea that someone would recreate the Santa joke with someone as beloved as Mickey Mouse was…was…

“William. Collect yourself.” His mother was tugging on him again, “Come. We’re going to the carousel.”

The world was spinning, ringing in his head. That was a person. That was a person dressed up like Mickey. Where’s the real Mickey? why the hell was this bothering him? He had let himself get swept up in bright colors and shouts and laughter and music. Only to be lied to.

He was going to grow up to be an explorer astronaut dinosaur inventor. He wasn’t going to lie or hit anyone. He was always going to tell the truth - and the idea that human beings not only lied like breathing but paid to be lied to was…hard to digest. His tiny brain couldn’t comprehend it.

No be realistic. This whole place is one big glorified lie where nothing good happens to anyone. Everything’s fake. All the smiles. All the friendly people. None of it is real. It’s all fake. It’s all a hoax. it hurt bad to realize it. More because he’d been tricked.

He did not like being tricked. He followed his parents, sullen, the place no longer holding his interest. Everyone in the world was just like his parents. Everyone lied.

He dutifully hopped up on the carousel, hopped off, and earned his parent’s scorn.

“I did not pay for you to not sit here and feel whimsical you little shit.” His father grabbed his hand so hard it purpled, “Stop looking like someone spit in your porridge.”
—

Pirates was fantastic.

Michael screeched with terror, jumped at all the right parts, threw himself into his father’s arms and screamed when things loomed out of nowhere. The end with the fire made them both nervous, father and son sitting as they passed through the fake flames.

“It’s painted silk Michael.” He pointed, “See? And lights. And they pipe in smells somewhere probably.” breaking down the illusion helped, “It just immerses you.”

“Are we gonna go down again?” He whimpered, “I don’t want to go down again-” their little boat was carried up and up until it gently splashed down, giving them a view of patrons, “Ah!”

The little boy laughed weakly, “Ahaha. It got me.”

“Gather yourself. There’s always a way to tell how people do the tricks Michael. Look at them.” he gestured at the people watching them as the boats bumped against each other, “They all come to be scared. Or delighted. Depending on the ride.” He nodded, “Before the day is out, we’ll go on this again and I want you to point out all the things that scare you so I can tell you how they achieved that effect.” Their boat stopped with a tired looking pirate offering them a hand to get up onto the dock.

“I-okay.” he screwed up his face, a child who wanted to have fun, “But why?”

“Don’t you want to be afraid of nothing?” William Afton studied his son in the dim light, “This is how you face your fears. We’ll go until you’re not scared of any part of it.”

“...Okay.” Michael looked confused before he nodded slowly, “Once we do other rides right?”

“Of course my dear boy.” William smiled and patted his son on his head, “Of course.” And his features softened, “This really is a magical place son.”

“You really like it don’t you.” Michael nodded, “Me too. I love you father.”

William ignored him, leading him gently but firmly out into the light of New Orleans square.
—

“William, quit sulking. What the hell is the matter with you?” William was still focused on the path in front of him. The thought of Mickey Mouse and the betrayal of the wonderful kingdom around him hurt. It felt like something had carved out a part of him and spat on it before it was returned with a childish giggle. Why. Why do something like this. Why lie?

Why was he stuck on it? That was the real puzzling part. He should have guessed. Indeed he should have known that it was all a damn joke. It was all a ruse, all designed to suck him in and make him a victim. Again.

He wasn’t stupid. It was one thing to have his parents think he was stupid, because parents had that right until he proved that he was better than they were. It was another thing to have other people trick him into believing something. I wanted this to be real because maybe if people were happy all the time they wouldn’t be like them.

They were passing the tomorrowland now, the place he’d been the most excited about. As a future dinosaur-inventor-space-explorer like Jules Verne and all the other great men, he’d hoped for some secret nugget of knowledge but it was all a lie. They’d smile and lie and smile and lie and-

He didn’t know why he did it. Instinct perhaps. Some desperate grasp for freedom, for understanding. He pulled his hand free from his parent’s and took off like a shot into the crowd.
—-

Mike, Charlotte, Henry, and he had all crowded into the “doom buggy” to roll up into the darkness. Squished together, he was displeased to see that Michael was scared while Charlie appeared fascinated.

“Look!” they were passing through a ballroom scene where the damned haunted the room, “Look! It’s the ghosts!”

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Michael muttered, “Those aren’t real. They’ve got to be a trick.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Charlie stared at them, fascinated, “They are obviously hunting for the 1,000th guest. And it’s gonna be you. And you’re gonna be stuck here forever.” she stuck her tongue out, “But don’t worry I’ll come save you and-”

“Quiet.” William’s voice was sharp, “Both of you.”

He was annoyed that both he and Henry jumped at the end with the beware of hitch hiking ghosts. and walking out up the pathway he resolved -

Hurry back…

-to figure out just how they’d done that -

Hurry back…

Because the dead did not walk and they did not walk at Disneyland.

Be sure to bring your “death” certificate…

“You.” A “cast member” looked up, eyes wide. He stopped what he was doing, “How can I help you sir?”

“I want to know how you did that.”

The young man stared at him, looking down at the leaves on the ground. He’d been sweeping, “Sweeping? Sir?”

“No no.” He waved a hand, “The ghosts. The ghosts in the mansion. I want-” he paused, “My children. Are scared. I want to show them that it’s okay.”

“Oh.” the young man nodded, “Guys don’t worry.” He knelt before Mike and Charlotte, “The ghosts are friendly. We’ve collected them from all over the world and we make sure they stay put. They’re guests. Just like you guys and we treat all guests the same…”

“Go and get your manager.”

“Will.” Henry murmured, “C’mon. We should get back to Clara…”

“No. Damn it.” William Afton stared down at the children, “You lot can go. I’m figuring it out. Than, Mike, you and I are going to go on it and I’ll tell you how it’s all done.”

“...O-okay.” He nodded, “Sure dad.” he looked nervously up at the mansion before pausing, “Can we have lunch first? I want to eat something.”

“Yeah Mr. Afton.” Charlie paused, “I’m really hungry.”

“As I said.” He pointed, “You go. And you.” he turned his gaze to the castmember, “Go and get an imagineer if you can. I would like to know how it’s done. Please.
—--

If William Afton had a fault (a single fault that could be labeled.) it was a desire for control of the natural order, control of himself, control of everyone around him. If you could see it. If you could touch it, you would know how it was made. Then it couldn’t hurt you. People were an outlier, you had to open them up to look inside them.

(Can’t do that.)

Most of this desire for control stemmed from a genuinely abusive relationship with his family that stretched back into ignorance about human behavior. What few knew is that it was shaped and fostered in this place, in this cradle.

He ran through the crowd crying, pushing past adults who looked surprised and uttered gasps of confusion and annoyance. He pushed over another little boy, turned back and muttered, “Sorry” when he started to cry, and continued to race until he found an alcove and ducked behind it. Panting, he sat back against the wall and started to cry - his desire to catch his breath mixed with hiccuping noises.

Silence. Peaceful blessed silence beyond his own gross noises. Silence to digest, to think, to try and make peace with-

“Hey kiddo.” A voice spoke, “You all right? You lost?”

He stared up at his benefactor. A tall man in a hideous striped vest knelt in front of him, “You look a little sick. Take it easy partner.”

There was no ease. There was only anger. His eyes flew open and he threw himself at the man, “Liar! Liar liar you’re all rotten awful liars! Liar! I hate you! I hate you!-”

“Hey! Hey hey hey-” The man caught him. He smelled like alcohol and cigarette smoke, like cologne he’d used to cover it, “Hey tiger. Calm down. C’mon sport. Let’s go see security, we’ll get you back with your parents.”

“No!” He was the enemy and the whole world was conspiring with him to take him back to hell with James and Jacqueline Afton, “No! Let me go!” he tried to kick at him, “You lied! You lied about Mickey Mouse! He’s not real! He’s not! He-”

“Hey hey hey.” The young man knelt, “Keep your voice down. Hey. Here c’mon. See this? This means I work here.” he tapped his nametag, “Let’s sit you down and I’ll call security.” A young woman appeared at the back of the alcove and William watched him nod to her, he took his hand far too firmly and William felt his mind droop.

(He was well trained. A firm grip on a puppy teaches them to heel.)

“We don’t talk about Mickey.” The young man’s voice was firm, “And…well. I’m sorry about that but he’s the boss okay? And…hey okay.” he’d spotted someone, “I can get you somebody who’ll answer all your questions. You want that? You want to complain about the rat, you can talk to him okay?”

“I-” Will frowned. complain, “Yes. I do want to complain. Cause you’re all a bunch of dirty rotten liars!-”

“Yeah.” the young man glared right back, “We are. But it’s not our fault. We lie cause the world is a shithole. We just got outta a war, we’re gonna go into another war and I’m gonna have to go and you brats just scream and-”

He appeared to be struggling for a moment before he rose, “Do not. Move. If you move you’re dead.”

He pointed a finger and left, William staring and staying still at the prospect of being dead. The young man returned with an older one in a light blue polo shirt and a pair of glasses. He sat beside him.

“Kenny’s gonna go get security.” the older man’s voice was kind, “But he said you had questions and complaints. My name’s Henry. I work here and help Mickey and the boss make the magic.”

“Then you’re a liar.” William muttered, “You’re a liar. Mickey’s not real. It’s a person in a costume.”

The man opened his mouth and sighed, brushing a hand through his light brown hair, “Yeah. I’m sorry son. You’re not supposed to figure that out. You must be really really smart huh.”

“Yes.” Pride flamed like a tiny candle inside him, “I am really smart. I don’t know why I’m mad about it. Everybody’s so happy but you’re just tricking people. What do you want? How come you’re tricking people? Father tricks people into thinking he’s nice and he’s not and mother tricks people and all the boys at school and-”

“It’s not a trick.” The man nodded mutely, “It’s really not. We’re not trying to do it to be mean. We’re doing it cause- well. Cause of all that stuff. I don’t know what your mom and dad are doing kiddo but when you come here you’re supposed to forget it. That’s what the boss wants.”

“Who’s the boss?”

“Walt Disney.” He grinned, “C’mon. You know the whole world and you don’t know that?” he gestured, “See, Walt grew up when it was really hard to live.” he rolled his eyes, “At least that’s what he tells us. He had to walk fifteen miles before school to deliver his dad’s papers. In the snow with boots and he froze. He’s got a million and one stories.”

Henry gestured, “All this place though is what he wants life to be like. See when you go through the gate at the front? You leave it all behind. Or at least you’re supposed to. Your mom and dad can’t do anything to you here, your friends can’t. We try and enchant people. Do you know what that means?”

“I don’t care what it means.” William stared at his shoes, “It’s still lying.”

The older man sighed, “...Well. How about this. It’s not a lie if you’re in on the joke.” he gestured, “and…now you know the joke.”

This was a new piece of information. William stared at him, “Like how children believe in Santa claus but he’s not real?”

The man looked shocked at that but he shrugged, “Yep. Here. Hey - Scott!”

The other men had hung back and were talking. One had something large in his hands. He moved to the bench, studying the two of them, “Henry we’re gonna be late…”

“Nuts to that. Show our new friend here our patient.” he gestured, “We have someone we have to put back together. He broke.”

Something, something started then. Something ran through his mind like a rabbit, lightning from his head to his toes, “Someone got hurt?”

“Sure.” Henry and Scott were blank, speaking with the voices of Gods. Scott looked over his shoulder before pulling open the box lid. Inside, in several pieces, was a parrot. The thing had been bumped and bruised and was scattered around like marbles but it was a parrot. It had bright blue and white feathers, a red head, and while it’s beak was in two places it was still there.

“You…you made that?”

“Sure did.” Scott sounded proud, “Wife makes a baby, thinks she’s so important. She ever make something totally out of nothing?”

Henry snorted, “You’re an idiot man.” He put the box on, “Jose’s my baby. And I’m putting him back together because he forgot how to sing.”

“He sings?!” The 7 year old’s eyes were wide, “Does he fly?”

“No, but he flaps his wings.” Henry saw the box had been closed and gestured, “So when something is sick, when it’s broken, I can put it back together and it’ll make people happy. What’s more than that, Jose’ll be here long after I’m gone.” He patted the box and gestured, Scott giving him a hurry the fuck up look.

“See.” Henry leaned in close, “You’re in on the joke now. So you can’t tell anybody about Jose. Or Mickey. Or anybody. If your friends ask, you know. And I’m deputizing you. You’re an honorary imagineer now Mr…Mr…”

“William!” He was being given responsibility, secrets, and apparently the secret to life itself, “William Afton!”

“Well Mr. William Afton. You now know the secrets of what we do here. You cannot tell anyone else. No boys, no girls, not even your mother and father.” His salute was crisp, and William wondered if the man had been in England for the war or the Pacific. You don’t salute that straight without having experience with authority.

“I won’t!”

“Good job Mr. Afton-”

“William!”

A blue clad security guard was leading his mother and father to the bench he’d been sat on. His mother yanked him to his feet with a yelp and his father delivered a backhanded slap so hard that he knocked into the concrete, “Don’t you dare, don’t you dare run off like that again you little shit!”

He tried to climb to his feet, to struggle against the bench, and slumped as his father yanked him up by his hair and took his arm leaving purple welts on the elbow, “You little bastard!”

“Hey.” Henry the imagineer spoke, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
—-

Humans are the only animals that abuse their children without cause. A cat will swat, a monkey will hit, but humans are the only ones that do so out of malice. Out of jealousy. It is an unspoken truth that these things are not to be done. That they are to be shunned, those who would do these things to a child. It was not always thus. A species progresses, they learn words and phrases and more of their minds. They understand some people should not, and some people should who never will.

Children like William Afton should not exist.

Not out of malice, not out of anger, because there are some humans who should not breed and whose DNA should be consigned to the pages of history. Some families must be tossed aside like trash on a boulevard. It is the respective belief of the author, that humans recognize this. That it is so offensive, so painful, that they will at least make an effort to try and save those so hurt. If they cannot grasp it, then they must be left behind. God may be absent, but evolution still speaks in the hearts and minds of every human being. If you cannot help them keep up, then they must be let go. They must fall out of the herd, be left by the tribe.

Perhaps one day humanity will live up to it’s lofty ideals and how it climbed out of the abyss. They will admit they mourn, or at least that they want to fix the things that are broken and they must learn how.

But human beings are still animals. They still fall prey to monsters, they still fight against darkness. Their high minded ideas like control and civilization are pipe dreams after millennia of evolution.

While they are the only animals that hit, they, like all other animals, will leave the weak and the diseased behind.

The only difference is that the weak and diseased and malevolent can come back and kill them all.
—-

“Sir.” James Afton straightened, “Do not tell me how to discipline my boy.”

“Sir.” Henry rose, and Scott and the others were moving over, “Sir. You knocked the kid to the ground like a baseball. You sure you’re his father? Scott? Lou. Officer.” he nodded to the security guard, “You know these are parents?”

“Jesus Henry, leave it…” Scott had moved over with the box under his arm, “We’ve got work to do.”

“No.” Henry was compelled to make a final play for the little boy on the ground and William Afton stared up at him, “No. No cause to hit like that. No cause at all. Those bruises on that kid? He looks like he’s half purple.”

People were beginning to stare and William took perverse joy in how his parents seemed flustered. Mothers and fathers whispered and pointed and he started, wearily to climb to his feet until strong hands helped him. He turned to see his initial benefactor, standing behind the imagineers like a guard dog. Others were coming forward too and for the first time in his life little Billy Afton, little William, felt empowered.
—-

Abandon the diseased. Suffer not a monster to live.

—-

“It’s a Pepper’s Ghost.” The imagineer was a round woman with a thick head of dark red curly hair. He’d bit back his shock, “And a bunch of scrims.”

“Ah.” A scrim was a painted piece of fabric that reflected another image when light was projected through it. Pepper’s Ghost was a type of phantasmagoria. Phantasmagoria was a type of horror theater where skeletons and demons were projected onto fabric via lanterns. It had a massive history beginning (at least in it’s current incarnation) with seances in the 1800s.

Faked ones.

“Wow.” He felt ashamed, “I…look. My son was frightened and I was too…” he stared, “It was very well done.”

The woman smiled, “You’re not the only one. If you go back on it and look in the far left corner when you’re facing the ball room you’ll see a spider painted into a web on the glass panel. A guy brought his gun in and tried to shoot the ghosts when he thought they were real.”

“Good God!”

“In order to pull the glass we would have had to dismantle the building.” She smiled, “So we painted it into a spider-web.”

That did make him feel better, albeit by a hair, “I-”

Michael, the twins, Charlotte and Henry and Clara were eating lunch he realized. Any opportunity for them to have a moment of understanding was effectively gone. It was annoying. This was the kind of control Henry wanted too (surely), and the kind of control he lusted after.

“I’ll pass that on to him. My son loves scary stuff and I work in entertainment as well.”

“Oh yeah?” She sounded interested, but a fake disinterested, “My dad worked at the park too. He was a ride operator. Entertainers keep it in the family yeah?”

“We do. Thank you again.”

She nodded, twisting off, and he moved to find the family at a cafe halfway finished with their meal, “You didn’t wait for me?”

“We were hungry.”

“I saved you a churro.” Michael was staring at his hands, “Father. Do we have to go on the ghost ride again?”

“Yes.” He nodded, “We’re here for two days Michael. Better to get this out of the way now.” he nodded, “If you want to work at the restaurant there are things that I should teach you that they do well. They’re the best.” he smirked at Henry who sighed and looked tired, “Until we get into the game.”

He rose, “Do you all mind if I eat? Or are you rushing off?”

“I’m taking Charlotte on the jungle cruise.” Clara rose, “She’s my little ride buddy.”

“We’re gonna go look at the animatronics!” She beamed, “You should come Mike!”

“We will.” Henry smiled, “You two go first. Will and I will stay with the kids.” he nodded, “I’d like to hear how the ghosts are done too, maybe even see it for myself.”
—-

The crowd of onlookers rushing to the defense of the boy flung to the ground like a sack of potatoes were clearly angry.

It was both comforting and confusing. William saw that something with his parent’s rough and tumble treatment was wrong. Henry looked angry, the one fellow who had found Henry for him looked angry. Women whispered and pointed as James glared, “What?! What the bloody hell are you all looking at?”

“Bouncing the kid off the ground like that-”

“What on earth is this world coming to?”

“What kind of awful rotten parents…”

He turned to Henry who was focused wholly on his father, his features grim, “Can you produce proof that this is your son?”

“That’s our William…” Jaqueline Afton whimpered, “Will, Billy - please. Please.”

It occurred to him that if he didn’t say anything, they’d tear his mother and father apart.
—--

“I was thinking. You know what would be good? Haunted Pizzeria.” Henry was bouncing beside Charlie and Michael, both of whom looked intrigued, “We could do something similar, or even just a walk through. Blast light through shadow, it’d be as good as hallucinations. We could do it better.”

“We’re standing on the shoulders of geniuses.” William smiled, “And we’ll do better.”

“Dad, I liked it.” Charlie said, “But you’re not gonna build an actual like, haunted house right?” she shook her head, “That was spooky.”

“It was great.” Michael looked entranced, “And the ghosts aren’t real Charlie. It’s just a joke.”

The word joke hit William like a ghost from his own past and he ruffled Michael’s hair, “We’ll build quite a terrifying house won’t we?” he paused, “Now, back to pirates …”

“Dad can’t we go on the Jungle Cruise?” Michael considered him, “Please? We’ve been on pirates.” He stared up at him, “Please?”

“We have two days here Michael.” William’s eyes narrowed, “You’ll be fine. This is a work trip. Besides, you like pirates.”

“Yeah but I want to ride with Mom and the animals.” he paused, “Or just sit. I’m tired of standing in line.”

“Nonsense.” He lifted the boy into his arms, ignoring how Michael squirmed in his hard grip.” This is a magical places. A safe place. No one hurts here. There’s no pain here. There’s nothing but happiness and smiles Michael so just think about that.”

He whimpered, “...Oh-okay.” He sighed, “Can you carry me?”

“For a bit son.” he patted him, “Hen? Charlotte-Charlie?”

“We’re gonna go check in with Clara.” Henry smiled, “See you both in a bit okay? Then we should all head to the hotel since Evan and Elizabeth are being real troopers.”

“Very well, very well.” He waved it off, taking Michael to the line, “You and I, I bet we could do all the rides in the park. What do you think?”

The exhausted little boy stared at him, “...I…whatever you want dad.” he paused, “I mean it’d be pretty neat to go on the ghost ride at night I guess.”

“Good boy.” He ruffled his hair again, kissing him on the cheek. The boy beamed, “C’mon. Let’s look at the map and plan our route. Yar?”

“Yar!”
—-

His parents didn’t say words to him until they were out in the parking lot. His father opened the door for him and William hopped in, sensing the tension. He and his parents sat in the car for a moment, before his mother spoke.

“William, do you know the name of your little friends?”

“...He said his-” William paused, “He said his name was Henry.” he pushed his hands over his eyes.

“Mm hmm. And the young man who found you? The one in the striped shirt who was drinking?”

It was a vest. A lovely striped vest. The place was cemented in his memory. William moved to buckle his seatbelt, “I dunno.”

“They don’t give them names.” Jaqueline Afton sounded blank, like Jose the parrot himself. Like her voice box was broken, “There’s no names on them. I looked because I wanted to file a complaint. No names. Just numbers.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, “Do you want that? Do you want them to take away your name and who you are? Because that’s what places like that will do.”

She turned, and her voice and face was the devil itself, “They will take away your name, and your identity and you won’t be William Afton. You will be even more of a nothing than you already are. We at least gave you a name, a home. That is a place where people have no names.”

That. Was preturbing.

“No names?”

“No. That man Henry? He’s not your friend. He’ll take away your name and make you smile all the time. That one man who helped you? He was drunk.” She pushed her lips together, “What a nasty vile place.”

William Afton felt the old car start, rumbling under his seat. He thought about everything that Henry had said about the world being happy - about being in on the joke. Then he thought about what his mother had said.

Well the mind already broken by time, by genetics, by reality, That makes perfect sense. If you want to be in on the joke, then you have to use people. They have to be numbers. Not names.

He shrugged nonchalantly as they pulled out of the parking lot and into the twilight.
–