#(oxo) worst mistake yet: cassidy & william.

[runelocked]

CHRIST, SHE REALLY WAS NOTHING MORE THAN A HEADACHE. Irate, William stares down at her, the monster under every child’s bed, writ large — unimpressed by the sobs and pleas. The girl is pathetic to him. Frozen in place, curled up, begging to the mascot most found endearing — oh, if only they knew the truth about it!

“Kill you?” He repeats, glancing down at his knife. It gleams dully, commiserating what is to come: it only sets his resolve in concrete. “Oh, no, no, I’m not going to kill you. I’m your best friend, Spring Bonnie!” The accent, the theatrics, the character… it’s all so easy to slip into. Like wearing a coat. It’s unnerving to most, but William has always been at home behind a mask. He’s in his element here. “Say, you’re not frightened of me, are you? Why don’t you come here — let me give you a big high five to cheer you up!”

And he advances: chuckling to himself at his own antics, oh, William, that’s good: makes this whole experimenting thing a little less boring. With surprising speed for the weight of his suit, he is bending down to grab hold of her leg, yank her a little closer to him. The knife in his hand slices into her as he does so: an accident, but he hadn’t exactly been trying to be careful. “Whoops! I suppose even Bonnie can be clumsy. Let’s get you all cheered up.”

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

SHAKING. SHE’S SHAKING. A GROTESQUE REVULSION SETTLES IN HIS GAZE, BOTH AT HIMSELF AND HER FEAR, but he soaks it in, driven further by the terror he still inspires. He knows now what he has to do: what he has been doing his whole life. He’d been foolish to think this place would be any different ! —— Claw his way to the top. He can get himself out of here if he pushes. If Cassidy has the power then he will take it from her. Physically; defeating this game of hers, but emotionally too; he had to rip her apart, inch by inch, destroy any thought she may have had of her own power. And he knows just how to do that.

“ Get to the door! ” He repeats again, laughing wildly. Hands like claws gripping the desk, both to keep himself steady and so he can feel the way it glitches and flickers as her instability grows. A sign of progress ! “ You know how this works, don’t you? You know how to escape me. I’ll even count down for you ! Ten ! Nine, eight —— ”

SNAP.

Something in him breaks, buckles at the sound. Eyes widen, breath clogs his throat like sludge. He expects darkness, the pain of another death; the cycle to repeat; the neverending misery of his non-existence to continue on in perpetuity.

I N S T E A D N O T H I N G H A P P E N S

If William before had been on the verge of completely losing any sanity he had left, now is something else entirely. Staggers closer, a tall looming shadow. Licks the blood from his lips and he doesn’t disappear .

“ Oh dear. ” He says. It comes out low, a beast stalking towards injured prey. So different in tone from his hysteria before, and somehow worse. “ I don’t think that’s up to you, Cassidy. In fact— ” The demented smile won’t leave his face, adrenaline at finally, finally having a win leaving him dizzy. Or perhaps it was the head wound. “ —I don’t think anything will be up to you anymore. Are you forgetting . . . ? I made this place. ”

Not literally: he has no power in this hellhole, no ability to control anything. But the idea behind it ? The animatronics and the fear and even Cassidy’s desperation to hurt, to get revenge on him ? — he’s the architect of it all. It is so easy to delude himself and tell his victim that nothing has changed: as usual, she is the sufferer.

As always, he is the one in control.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

SKATEBOARDING ? . . . William keeps his expression schooled, hoping beyond hope that she doesn’t see the grimace that threatens to cross his face. Nothing against the activity in particular — he’s just never found any sort of interest in sports of any kind, and has less than fond memories of a younger child almost crashing into his car on a skateboard once.

“Robotics,” he repeats, quiet and thoughtful, trying not to laugh at her self-censorship by moving on to the next part of her sentence, “I suppose it makes sense. Henry always said you helped out a lot in the workshop. Wouldn’t shut up about you, at times.”

His gaze is a little distant, unfocused: in his mind’s eye, he’s doing his best to recall the past. Remembers the stupidly hot burning jealousy that some kid had been helping out as if he hadn't been more capable; remembers the hazy unexpected (at the time) violent urge that had made him avoid Cassidy like his life depended on it. William frowns. He’d tried to force Michael into his business . . . Saying the effort had been unsuccessful is an understatement.

“I actually tried to get into skateboarding when I was a boy. Didn’t work out, obviously.” He snorts. Hindsight’s a funny thing. Maybe he’d be better adjusted to society if he’d had a hobby outside of obsessing about dying? “My father always dreamed he’d have a son in the army or something. Always pushed me to athletics in school. Maybe that’s why I hated it all so much.” And then he’d broken his leg trying to play rugby and his father had stopped pushing, and then he’d left home, and then… Snapping out of his thoughts, William studies Cassidy closely. “Do you think you’d have tried to get a job with us?— With Henry and I, I mean, at the diner or the pizzeria?”

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

ETERNITY IS A REALLY LONG TIME, SHE’S RIGHT. AND WILLIAM CAN’T BLAME HER FOR WANTING A CHANGE. Even if he could, he wouldn’t: he’s leaping at the chance to talk, to stop the torture, if only for a while. As wary as he still is, something relaxes in his expression: he forgets, sometimes, that she is ONLY A CHILD.

At her words — no thanks to you — his mouth falls open, a retort ready on his lips. In my defence, he wants to say, I really had no idea what would happen. You were an experiment. But before he can speak, his brain catches up with his words, and thankfully shuts them off. The last thing he wants is to land himself in some kind of worse hell because of his insolence.

And there are questions he wants to ask her, of course. What did it feel like, being trapped in that suit? Why did you remain behind while others moved on?— Was it really just such a strong desire to make me suffer? How did you make this place? What’s next? … But for now, he keeps himself carefully guarded. He’ll ask difficult questions later, maybe. When he’s loosened up.

Still, William can’t help but snort, just a little cynically. “Normality,” he quotes dryly, “like ‘normal’ for us now isn’t life inside an old rotted suit. It’s been so long I don’t even remember what normal is.”

Sure he does. Normal had been extended smoke breaks cut short helping a child with a scraped knee, or sleepless prideful nights working on a new (non deadly) project for the diner. Normal had been Sunday family dinners and lollipops subtly dropped to children playing without friends and the warm delight at finding his favorite brand of coffee always stocked in his office. …But this office doesn’t really seem capable of normality. Homesickness stirs in him like a loose tooth, and William frowns at her.

“Tell me something about yourself then,” he says. It comes out less demanding than he wants it to sound. “Something from before. I’ve told you something: it’s only fair.”

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

THIS SITUATION IS FAMILIAR. TWISTEDLY SO. The setting is not the same, neither are they, not anymore — he’s sure Cassidy would deny that she’s only a scared little child, not now, after everything. And sure, he can’t do her any proper physical harm: but that’s not important anymore. Because William is and always has been a cockroach, for better or for worse, latching on to the things or people that keep him alive, and right now, that thing is the flicker in Cassidy’s eyes. Helplessness.

It’s like fuel to fire. As if the past weeks, months, decades haven’t happened in this neverending hell, William is laughing and looming and living, Cassidy’s small frame imprinted in his head like a puppet without strings.

He’s still laughing when he’s choked, and when his head cracks sickeningly against the steel table. Doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop if he tried. For the first time in forever, he’s won. That’s all he needed: one win. And everything makes sense again — this, like everything else, is simply something he will have to survive until it ends.

Because it will end. It has to. Now he is certain of that.

William has the strength to wrench himself free from Cassidy’s grip, pushing his head back from the table and twisting lithely from her grasp. Blood flowing freely down the side of his head, a maniacal grin on his face as he stares hard at her, it occurs to him why this is so familiar:

Isn’t this exactly the same glee he’d felt as she’d sobbed and suffered and died?

His eyes are alight with a horrible fire as he leans towards her, casting his tired scattered excuse of a mind back to his life, back to her death. And he smiles at her, through building tears of laughter and fearless, frightening joy.

“I am still your friend, Cassidy. Do you believe that?” (Pure mocking of her death. Some of his last words to her. His body aches all over, his head thuds dizzyingly where it had come into contact with the table, but he’s got power here. He has control.) “Tell you what. If you can make it to the door, I promise not to hurt you. Do you still believe me?”

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

DOES HE PROMISE ? WILLIAM RESISTS ROLLING HIS EYES WITH A GODLIKE EFFORT. He brightens his smile in the same breath, taking some vindictive satisfaction at the sight of her reaching for his hand. Hell, he even helps, shuffling a little closer to her encouragingly. " You can make it ? " He repeats gently, " Even with your poor leg ? " He's certain he's done damage, and in a bad way too: remembers the shriek she'd let out and wonders, scornfully, if she's really so stupid as to believe she can make it to the door, or if she's just trying to lie to herself.

But nonetheless, William Afton is a man of his word ! At least when he chooses to be. So he squeezes her hand, hoists her up into a standing position; she'd been smaller than he'd expected, and it had surprised him when he'd first grabbed her before - now, it's just more proof she won't be an issue when she goes missing. Clearly her parents aren't looking after her, and any of the children that would have missed her are all here already, watching invisible from their suits. One of them groans, the Bonnie suit: but that one is too new into the suit to control it properly; and so William's smile grows, becomes more satisfied and pronounced.

Nobody is going to stop him. Especially not some stupid children. CASSIDY IS ALL ALONE HERE.

" Tell you what, " he says to her, crouching back down to her level, " how's this ? I'll give you a special Spring - Bonnie promise. Those can't ever be broken. " Sets that heavy mask back on his shoulders, covering his face. As soon as he does, the kindness in his smile disappears entirely. " I don't give these out freely. I've only ever made these to Fredbear ! But I can give you one too. " Extending his hand, the rabbit suit curls its fingers, leaving the little finger out reassuringly as if ready to make a pinky - promise. " I am still your friend. Do you believe that ? "

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

DON'T WANT TO BE CHEERED UP ? Ungrateful little brat - abandoning the persona as quickly and jarringly as it had started, William's lips twist upwards in his annoyance. First her wailing sobs, now the fighting back. Doesn't she know how hard he is trying to get this over quickly for her ?

Well, no more ! Ire boiling over, the monster in the rabbit suit applies more strength, he twists her leg, harsh, horrible, and does not flinch at the noise it makes. He has heard so much worse in his time acquiring experiments. " Go home ? " He repeats, feigning ugly, theatrical surprise; " aren't you having fun ? " Fredbear's Family Diner: where fantasy && fun come to life. A place of glossy half - truths and tragedies and CASSIDY IS NOT MAKING IT OUT ALIVE. Of that, William is certain.

So he clucks disapprovingly, almost paternal. She's sobbing, but quieter now: so he takes a moment to enjoy the muffled sound.

" I'm afraid going home isn't an option any - more, dear. This is your new home: here, with all your friends. Welcome to your new life. " Or, death, really. He waves a hand dismissively, finally, pulls off his mask. The rabbit head lifts, like it's being decapitated, spring locks clicking gently, nonthreatening, and the thin cruel form of William Afton looms over with a smile. " I'll tell you what. If you shut up, I'll even let you pick which of them I put you beside. Tell me, girl: which of them was your favorite ? Freddy has always been a hit, but you seem like a Chica fan to me. " So mocking, so needlessly cruel. William savors his own words, and the tear streaked face when he steps aside to reveal the gaping, groaning bodies of the animatronics, prone and clearly faulty. There are stains around the mouths, and William wonders if the children inside are watching closely. He's always enjoyed an audience. " Who's it to be, hm ? "

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

CALL  IT  FOOLISHNESS,  CALL IT  HUBRIS.  HELL,  CALL  IT  WHAT  YOU  WANT:  it  does  not  change  William’s  laugh,  near - hysterics  in  his  relief,  suddenly  silencing;  does  not  change  the  sudden,  sinking  horror  that  settles  like  dead - weight  in  his  chest;  does  not  change  the  fact  he  has,  in  every  way  possible,  picked  the  only  scenario  worse  than  death  by  her  hands.  A  haunting  sense  of  inevitability  looms  larger  than  life  for  a  moment,  in  that  perfect,  quiet,  tenuous  moment  before  the  end.  And  then -

Everyone  knows  what  happens  when  those  springlocks  get  wet,  after  all.

Afterwards,  he’s  not  actually  sure  what  does  it.  Which  factor  brings  about  his  downfall  -  sweat  or  the  tears  of  mirth  in  his  eyes  or  the  drip - drip - drip  of  the  leaky  pipe  never  fixed  above  his  head.  It  does  not  matter.  Cassidy  is  right.  His  fate  is  inevitable.  Springlocks  snap  forwards,  pierce  through  gristle  and  muscle  and  bone;  William  howls  in  pain,  whole  body  seizing,  and  the  harsh  movement,  the  thick  blood  seeping  from  dozens  of  deep  wounds,  God  himself,  sets  off  the  rest  of  the  suit  too.

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  pain.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  horror.  Less  human  and  instead  more  of  a  grotesquely  bloodied  monster,  the  dying  thing  once  called  William  Afton  steps  forwards;  once,  twice,  roars of  pain  and  shrieks  for  mercy  trapped  in  his  throat.  He  locks  eyes  with  Cassidy  -  the  girl  behind  his  demise,  he  would  fucking  kill her,  rip  her  frail  ghostly  form  apart  until  there  was  nothing  left,  GOD  SOMEONE  HELP  HIM  PLEASE  MAKE  IT  END  MAKE  IT  STOP  -  and  topples,  a  defeated  king  on  a  broken  chess - board.  Barely  coherent,  barely  functional:  gasping  for  air  that  does  not  come  and  choking  on  his  own  blood.  HAVE  MERCY.  SOMEONE  HAVE  MERCY  ON  HIM.  And  yet  when  his  victims  had  begged  the  same,  he  had  laughed  in  their  fucking  faces.  A  weak  gurgle  -  not  dying  yet,  not  quite,  though  in  bad,  bad  shape  -  a  hand  extending  towards  the  girl  like  she  would  help  him  even  if  she  could. Please. Be kind. Call for help.

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

IT  HADN’T  BEEN  WORTH  THIS.  That’s  all  he  can  think  as  the  cycle  repeats  once,  twice,  thrice,  never ending  pain  and  terror  rendering  him  breathless.  None  of  it.  Not  the  discovery  of  remnant,  not  the  murder  or  experiments  or  those  thirty  years  stuck  in  that  suit,  clinging  to  life  like  a  roach  -  William  regrets  it  all,  wishes  nothing  more  than  for  the  ability  to  rewind  time  and  try  again.  Not  for  his  victims,  no,  he  doesn’t  give  a  damn  about  them,  but  for  himself.  To  avoid  this . . .  Agony.  And  if  a  tiny  part  of  him  trembles  in  remorse  with  every  death  he  goes  through  that  reminds  him  of  the  children,  well.  He  will  not  give  Cassidy  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  his  resolve  is  crumbling.

No  escape.  It  terrifies  him.  Is  this  his  eternity?  God,  give  him  the  springlocks  again;  give  him  the  burning,  give  him  the  pain  of  un - life,  give  him  anything  with  an  end !  Each  death  brings  a  new  wave  of  fear  and  memories,  each  death  sends  him  that  little  bit  lower:  little  more  than  an  animal,  grasping at  scraps  of  life  before  his  inevitable  new  death.  By  the  time  Cassidy  pauses  again,  William  is  not  himself;  choking  on  sobs  and  gasps  and  adrenaline,  body  twitching.  The  scars  on  her  body  mimic  his  own:  isn’t  that  funny?  Just  another  way  she  is  like  him,  now.  And  yet  infinitely  more  powerful  -  the  man  in  the  chair  cringes  away  from  her  words,  a  delirious  groan  stringing  from  his  lips.  For  a  moment,  his  mind  grants  him  a  little  mercy.  Shows  him  not  Cassidy,  but  Liz;  gives  him  someone  even  vaguely  more  comforting  to  cling  to  while  he  scrapes  together  what  little  is  left  of  his  courage. 

“ You -  Hah - -   Please. ”  Begs  to  Cassidy,  begs  to  Elizabeth;  please  don’t  hurt  me  again,  please  don’t  look  at  me  when  I’m  like  this.  William  heaves  for  breath,  struggles  in  vain  to  dignify  himself.  “ Don’t.  Don’t.  Not  again. ”  Pride  shattered,  will  crumbled.  There  are  a  lot  of  words  to  describe  what  Cassidy  is  doing  to  William  Afton,  and  none  of  them  are  pleasant.  His  thin  frame  pitches  forwards  in  his  chair like a drunkard,  reaches  feebly  for  what  his  mind  tells  him  is  Elizabeth.  “ Leave  me  alone,  ‘Liz.  You  shouldn’t -  shouldn’t  be  here. ”

How  does  it  feel  being  on  the  other  side  of  things?  Cassidy  had  asked.  And  William:  well,  William’s  delirious  agony,  tottering  and  terrified,  serves  as  his  response.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

OH,  WAS  THAT  SUPPOSED  TO  HURT ?  NO:  it’s  a  fragile,  failed  attempt  at  power,  and  William  wants  to  reply  that  he  knows  exactly  how  to  make  her  hurt,  make  all  of  them  hurt,  and  scream,  and  wail  like  the  rodents  they  are.  Hadn’t  he  killed  them ?  Hadn’t  he  proved  himself,  hadn’t  they  seen  his  power ?  ‘ THE  CONSEQUENCES  OF  HIS  ACTIONS ‘  –  Christ,  he  hadn’t  thought  about  those  in  several  years.  Hadn’t  needed  to:  his  work,  after  all,  is  so  very  nearly  complete.  The  last  step  is  destroying  those  fucking  suits.

And  when  his  voice  fails  him,  and  terror  renders  him  stuttering,  William  does  what  he’s  always  done.  Turns  tail  and  retreats,  stumbles  like  a  dying  man  hah,  not  yet  towards  his  first  and  most  loyal  creation.  The  golden  rabbit  suit,  rusting  and  decaying,  stares  sightlessly  up  at  him,  and  the  laugh  William  lets  out  is  half - relieved,  half - scornful.  If  they  have  all  forgotten  so  quickly,  he’ll  give  them  a  reminder.  He’ll  don  the  leering,  laughing  face  of  the  mascot  that  had  killed  them,  show  them  true  fear  –  HE  WILL  NOT  BE  TREATED  LIKE  THIS  BY  HIS  CREATIONS !  ISN’T  HE  THEIR  GOD ?

The  girl  approaches,  and  William  heaves  the  suit  upwards,  sweating,  cold.  It’s  heavier  than  he  remembers,  and  he  half  worries  it  won’t  open  after  all  these  years:  but  he  hasn’t  lost  his  touch.  The  springlocks  click  open  like  a  child  opening  the  door  to  its  father,  and  William  Afton  is  Spring  Bonnie  once  again.

A  showman.  He  turns  to  the  creature  with  the  knife,  offers  her  a  manic,  malicious  grin  and  bow.  Her  knife  won’t  harm  him  in  here.

“ Consequences ? ”  William  replies  at  last,  straightening up;  “ I’m  afraid  not,  miss. ”  It’s  almost  frighteningly  easy  to  slip  back  into  that  old  voice,  the  lilting,  friendly  voice  of  his  mascot:  with  an  edge  of  demented  sadism.  “ Remember me ?  Your  old  friend,  come  back  to  haunt  you.  Did  you  miss  me  after  all  this  time ?  HAH ! ”

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

HENRY MICHAEL SOMEONE HELP ME GOD THE DEVIL ANYONE: William’s breaths comes in sharp, uncertain bounds, and the room is suddenly too small. There’s nobody to call and nobody who would come, he’s made sure of that — the only ones who would show for him are the ones in this room, the ones baying for his blood. A childish fear urges him to close his eyes (if you can’t see them, they can’t see you) but he resists, stubbornly, backs up until he’s tripping over the stupid arcade game, startling at the sound of it coming to life, staggering back from it like it’s got a vendetta against him. This isn’t fair, this isn’t fair: just as he’d been so close to the end!

Wetting his lips, focus darting between the doorway and her, shrinking in stature, wilting as the importance and pride that he’d entered with deserts him. William Afton is afraid, and for perhaps the first time, he feels well and truly powerless. There’s a knife at his belt; a box - cutter more than anything, but he’s seized with the sudden, desperate need to survive — he can’t die he can’t die he can’t he can’t after everything — so he lunges, knife glinting in the dim lighting, tries to plunge it deep into Cassidy’s chest.

A last ditch resort if there ever had been one. In hindsight he’ll laugh at his own foolishness… but nothing erodes logic quite like the fear of death at the hands of your own victims.

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

SCARED OF HER? SCARED OF HER? The broken remnants ( hah ) of William’s pride flare, grate against each other like bone. How dare she — how dare she — he is not scared of a child, a child he has killed, what’s more — he has long surpassed the ability to fear anything, and—

Except this place is different. In this place, he is human: startlingly, starkly so. There is no remnant, there is no axe or suit or smiling mask to hide behind. There is only him, and his body, and the animatronics that destroy him, and her. Cassidy.

And he’s gotten under her skin, hasn’t he? That twitch in her eye, the vicious anger she faces him with. Revenge, justice, call it whatever she likes — William knows, KNOWS, he still has some of his old scare factor. Tries to utilise it, clinging to scraps of power as if he’s a drowning man at sea.

“You think this is frightening, I’m sure,” he acknowledges, raspy, taunting, refusing to look at her, just to prove his fearlessness— “Big scary animatronics, a powerless death. All ringing close to home, Cass? Dear me. And here I thought this was all centred around me. This is YOUR idea of hell, isn’t it?— Projected onto me. This—”

Whatever his words, they fall short of the sheer terror in his flinch when Cassidy appears closer to him, and they are nothing compared to the hunted look in his eyes the second before she takes them. Agony is nothing new to him — hadn’t the last decades of his life been spent in nothing but? — but this kind of pain is new, raw, unending. William howls: a dog with no bone, and is almost sickeningly relieved when the same hand sliced through his throat. A puppet with its strings cut, he drops, clasping futilely at the gash in his throat like a child trying to hold back the tide. Always so frightened to die, even after all this time. Does not sob, not yet, though the noises he makes come close to it, as life fades from his form. A temporary relief — so temporary, so fleeting, he almost does cry when he’s brought back. One pale, trembling hand wraps over his eyes, both to reassure they’re still there and to hide his view of the creature tormenting him. No smart words, no clever sneer. He cannot bear to look.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

AH, FINALLY. HER SHRIEK IS AS REWARDING AS IT IS IRRITATING. He's a professional at this, by now: knows exactly how much pain and terror he needs to cause in order to extract any amount of that stuff he calls remnant, and it isn't hard when she makes herself so easy to frighten. Agony. Fear. Despair. Any excess that had no effect on the levels of remnant is at least still rewarding to him. Makes him feel powerful, in control. Something he has not felt in quite some time. Not since the last brat's death, anyway.

Still, Cassidy quietens herself, and when William pulls off the rabbit head and reveals himself, she stays quiet, for the most part. Snivels and sobs don't count, not really - not in a situation like this. But still, he's unsatisfied. Her fear isn't strong enough. Her despair not potent enough. Not yet. So, while she gazes at the animatronics, gives her pathetic little useless answer ( " N- N- None of them. " ), William hums, like he's genuinely interested, thoughtful. Then, in one fluid movement, leans down, bright brilliant smile on his face. " None of them ? " He repeats, voice kinder now. Far more dangerous, though how could she know such a thing ? " Well, I suppose that's that, then. If you don't want to be here, I suppose I ought to let you go. Shouldn't I ?"

LET HER GO: HAH ! If she's got the slightest sense, William thinks, she'll realize she is never getting out of here, not alive, anyway. But the pretense is amusing: more than that, there's nothing quite as thrilling as crushing false hope. So, still with that smile, soft, almost paternal in a horribly mocking way, he offers her his hand.

" Come on, then. Up you get. If you can make it to the door, then I'll let you leave. How about that ? "

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear

[runelocked]

IT'S ONLY AS HER SMILE DROPS THAT HE REALIZES THE MAGNITUDE OF HIS ERROR. By then it's too late. But for the blissful, broken moments before his realization, when Cassidy Elizabeth takes his hand and comes closer, William crumbles further than he has in what amounts to years of torture. It's too much: Elizabeth here, talking to him, reminding him of his sins - perhaps the only way to make him truly regret any of the atrocities he'd committed, aside from the physical torture, is giving him his daughter, hearing her speak.

The trembling in his hands don't stop when she takes one of them: if anything, it only gets worse, his shattered mind recoiling at the touch. Cassidy, Elizabeth. They blur in his mind, combine the paternal pride and maniacal amusement into one roiling, raging lake inside of him - William actually does cry out when Eli - No, Cassidy - rakes at his arms, draws blood easier than a knife through butter. Is too addled to actually comprehend what's going on, by the end. Only mumbles a thick, " I never wanted you hurt " to his daughter, barely audible through the blood oozing down his face and the concussed slur in his words. It's not enough - it never will be - and it's not even said to the right person. But for a second before he dies ( which is even before she tugs out his heart ) William Afton proves he had at least once been human, voice ragged with unspoken emotion. If he'd known how badly he had upset Cassidy, he'd have laughed until he'd cried: it seemed even his children had been treated fractionally better than her !

. . . And when he does respawn, barely aware of his surroundings other than the crackling of the intercom and the creaking, groaning sounds of the vent, he does not try to taunt Cassidy again. Even an old dog can learn new tricks under the right pressure.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear !

[runelocked]

“ HENRY WAS A COWARD WHO DESERVED WORSE THAN WHAT I GAVE HIM! ” The words rip out of him; despite anything he’ll admit, the torture in this place, the unrelenting agony and fear, has warped him. He doesn’t have the patience, the composure, the power he’d once wielded with ease. And so pinned against the wall, William wheezes for breath and digs deeper, desperate to hurt the brat in charge of his painful existence. “ Oh, you think too highly of your dear old Uncle, you do, you know. Jealous ?! Of him? That sad old man?! ” A cackle despite his anger. “ I forget you’re just a child. A little girl trying to play with the grown - ups. Your Uncle Henry shut himself away rather than face me; and what’s more, he— ”

Cassidy mentions his own children. And the pathetic excuse for a man is not William Afton, not at his peak. He’s a ghost of that man. So anger, stark and visceral and raw, splatters across his expression, and he actually strains to fight back against the Fredbear claw…

Oh, Evan. Struggles die abruptly, and William’s eyes travel upwards towards the nightmare twisted thing from his son’s mind. And he wilts, just a little.

“ You don’t know anything about my family, ” he mutters, voice gritty, dark. A warning (though he’s helpless here). “ Just because your own family life was so pitiful, that doesn’t mean you have to self project onto my children. ”

But he’s rattled; if the poor attempt of a taunt doesn’t show it, then the still stiff silence of his body does.

CONTINUED. / @remnantbound

[runelocked]

HERE’S  HOW  IT  GOES,  HIS  GAME  OF  CAT  AND  MOUSE,  BECAUSE  HE’S  PROUD  OF  HIS  WORK  HERE;  PLEASED  WITH  THE  METHOD.  It’s  all  about  experimentation,  and  he  thinks  he’s  nearly  perfected  the  extraction  of  that  substance  he’s  taken  to  calling  remnant.  It’s  not  all  about  hurt,  though  certainly,  that’s  part  of  it.  A  huge  part  of  it.  He’ll  see  just  how  much  soon.  But  hurt  going  hand - in - hand  with  hope  –  both  emotions  playing  against  each  other,  a  bittersweet  mix  that  inevitably  ends  in  tragedy  –  that’s  where  he  will  kill  her.  Because  he  can.  Because  she’s  small  and  powerless  and  because  deep  down  William  Afton  is  a  man  who  thinks power is flaunted or it is lost, utilised or useless.  Because  he  can,  because  she’s  small,  and  because  his  fascination  with  overcoming  death  means  offering  some  souls  as  a  sacrifice.

Souls.  Behind  the  mask,  his  lips  quirk  upwards  in  a  bitter  sort  of  grin.  He  hadn’t  believed  in  anything  so  ridiculous  until  Charlie.   Well.  He  can’t  be  right  all  the  time. But he'll learn. She'll help him in his studies.

HERE’S  HOW  IT  GOES,  AND  HERE’S  WHAT  CASSIDY  DOESN’T  KNOW:  the  door  is  within  reach,  and  the  door  is  rusty.  Nasty  little  problem,  one  they’ve  been  meaning  to  fix  for  a  while.  Drags  along  the  floor  and  sticks,  leaving  too  small  a  gap  for  anything,  let  alone  anyone,  to  slip  through.  The  door  is  within  reach  and  yet  even  if  she  does  manage  to  reach  it,  it’s  the  cruelest  kind  of  hope:  false.  Impossible  for  a  child  to  open  alone:  even  William  struggles  sometimes,  using  all  of  his  brute  strength.  But  all  of  this  knowledge  is  unknown  to  his  newest  game,  and  the  door  is  there,  lying  the  tiniest  bit  ajar  and  offering  freedom.

“ Go  on, ”  he  encourages,  stepping  back,  “ there  you  go.  I’ll  give  you  a  head  start,  alright ? ”  A  proper  game.  Behind  the  mask,  he’s  mocking:  struggles  to  keep  it  from  his  voice  as  he  speaks  once  more . . .  “ I’ll  count  down  from  ten,  little  one.  TEN.   NINE . . . Eight  .  ”  If  she  wants  any  chance  of  escaping,  this  is  the  only  one  he’ll  give  her.

CONTINUED. / @curseofbreadbear !