Chapter Text
The wind blew hard into the open windows of the car. The new Lincoln sped down the highway, its brights staying on even as other cars passed by. The man at the wheel gripped it until his knuckles turned white. He was stressed. He was running a massive franchise and his own robotics business at the same time.
He was William Afton. The successful business owner, wonderful father of three, and the richest guy in town aside for his business partner.
That’s primarily what the news saw, anyways. What he truly had right now was a pile of detectives wanting to investigate him and an unhappy wife that keeps accusing him at every turn. It really couldn’t be better for him, could it?
Either way, he knew as soon as the car turned into the gravel driveway he owned, he would be in for an earful. William had been at work late again, as in he was shifting around evidence. Some of the evidence pointed to him and he couldn’t have that, so, the next best thing was to blame it on the night guard. If he could have, William would have made the evidence point to his business partner, Henry. Henry had disappeared about a month ago though, so that was out of the question. As the car pulled into the driveway, he could see the figure of his wife standing in one of the illuminated windows. William grumbled to himself and slammed the car door shut, not caring if it woke anyone up.
Inside, his wife was waiting for him. Her arms were crossed. “Working late again?” she inquired in an accusatory tone.
“Yes, where else would I be?” William retorted, slamming his stack of papers onto the coffee table.
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed you’d be out with your little secretary,” the woman huffed.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If I was fucking the secretary everyone would know already,” William rolled his eyes, which very quickly turned into a glare towards his wife. “I assume Mike is asleep?”
“I doubt he is after you made so much noise.”
William sighed in response and shook his head. “He would’ve came down by now. Especially knowing how jumpy he is.” William kept his voice softer than his wife; he really didn’t want to wake his last living son up. Straightening himself, he asked his wife if she was going to stay the night in the living room again. If she wanted to sleep away from him, it was either the living room or the guest room; he wouldn’t give up the bed he paid for.
“I’ll stay in the guest room,” she bitterly replied. William nodded and kept his thoughts to himself for the time being. He balled up his fists and took a deep breath.
“So be it,” he calmly said. He couldn’t afford to give her the energy; it may ruin all of the planning he had done. Quietly, William went upstairs to his bedroom.
On the bedside table was a neat stack of papers, including a few journals of his own. William shifted through some of the papers, looking for some of his research papers. The new substance he found was taking up the front of his brain. It extended life, as far that he could tell, but it also messed with the mental state of the subject he injected it into. The mice he had injected it into turned on each other within weeks, almost as if they were paranoid of each other. One even cannibalized another. The mice’s eyes were another interesting thing: They glowed the same color as the substance itself.
When the mice died, the substance was left behind. “Remnant,” William came to call it. It could only be destroyed by fire, and even then, it was finicky on when it wanted to be destroyed. He needed a bigger subject. He couldn’t just test on mice forever. Although, right now, his mind was set on adding what research he found out today and going to bed.
William settled down on his bed and quickly scribbled down his research findings. His handwriting had gotten worse over time, maybe it’s all these late nights he’s pulling. He tossed his journal to the bedside table and laid down on the bed. It was becoming a struggle to keep his eyes open and he knew he needed to get some sleep.
—
William groaned as he got up. Music was blasting from somewhere in the house. Confusion washed over him as he sat up. The room he had fallen asleep in was different. It looked…strange. The walls were a simple peach color, the oak dresser he had was switched for a darkly stained one, and, most notably, the room was a lot bigger.
William could start to feel his chest tighten with panic. Where was he? Had he been kidnapped? He stumbled out of the bed and over to the nearest window. The outside looked familiar. He could still see the Martinez’s driveway that disappeared into the forest and the old mailbox that dotted the end of his.
So, where was he? William took a couple of deep breaths and stepped away from the window. There was no way that this much change could be made in one night; especially without waking him. He had to be in his own home, there was no way he couldn’t be.
The room was decorated with plants, something he could never manage to keep alive for the life of him. The pinkish curtains that covered the window gently swayed with the air of the AC. William looked to the side of the room that wasn’t previously there. The room right next to his bedroom had previously been his office; that must be where the space was taken from. In there was a small desk with a slim object on it. The object looked similar to a large, thin book. On it was a logo he actually recognized, a small apple with a bite taken out of it. Although, it was lacking the rainbow colors he previously remembered.
William cautiously went over to the object, which he assumed to be a computer. That’s all the company had made right? This computer was not a model he recognized nor was it the one he had in his office previously. William awkwardly picked up the computer and fumbled with it for a minute before figuring out how to open up the lid. The screen lit up almost instantly, showing that last page that had been opened. He frowned in distain at the computer, not recognizing what page the site was on and noticing that there wasn’t a mouse attached to it. William closed the computer, putting it back on the desk where he found it.
The music was still blasting downstairs and it was starting to annoy William. It was loud rock music. He was quickly stopped from storming out of the room when he saw the state of the hallway. It was trashed. There were plastic cups everywhere, articles of clothing, and, the worse of all, needles and other evidence of drug use.
William stood in the doorway for a moment, dumbfounded. Had there been a party? It certainly looked as if there was. Carefully, he stepped around anything lying on the floor like he didn’t want to catch any diseases. The stairwell was fairly empty, there was a new rug on it. He hopes that it was just this hallway trashed was swiftly crushed as he saw the living room in a similar state. Befuddlement washed over William. How could his house possibly get like this in a night?
Through the music blasting in the kitchen, he could hear an eccentric voice sound. It was clear some dishes were being clanged together too. William shuffled his way to the doorway of the kitchen, continuing to avoid anything on the ground. A wave of perfume and spices hit his nose that made him slightly nauseous.
In the kitchen, a figure was dancing along to the music and singing off-key. There was a skillet on the stove, some plastic cups strewn about the place, and dishes piled in the sink. William tried to get the stranger's attention over the music. Why were they in his house? Did they cause all this? Suddenly the stranger turned to him, their eyes becoming wide with surprise. They quickly grabbed a knife from the block and pointed it at him. William recognized it as a boning knife.
“Who are you?” They barked, keeping a tight grip on the knife. The jacket that loosely clung to them was starting to fall off their shoulder. With their free hand, they grabbed what must’ve been a speaker and turned the music down.
“Who are you?” William barked back, not afraid of the knife he was being threatened with.
“I asked you first!” The stranger crossly yelled. They were clearly surprised and agitated with his presence.
“I’m not answering to a stranger that trashed my house!”
“I don’t know who told you that because the title to the house is in my name,” the stranger snarled.
“No no no,” William chuckled, “the title to this house is under the name William Afton, not some…” he struggled to look for an insult for a moment, “tweaker.”
The intruder burst out into laughter at his statement. It irked William when they took a while to gain their composure.
“William Afton has been missing for like almost forty years!” The stranger laughed, lowering the knife. “Also, he’d be in his seventies by now. You look like a millennial cosplaying as an 80’s businessman.”
William’s face scrunched in confusion. “What’s a millennial?” He asked.
The stranger looked at him dumbfounded. “A millennial…like the generation…” William turned more cross as they stared at him like he was dumb.
“I’m a part of the baby boomer generation,” William simply stated. “I’m also the rightful owner of this house.”
Now it was the stranger’s time to be confused. “You—You look too young to be a boomer,” they stammered. “Are you sure you’re not on something?”
“No! I’m not on drugs!” William yelled, losing whatever cool he had left. “I was born in 1951, the generation after WWII!”
The stranger stared at him in disbelief before suddenly changing to a more flirty tone. “Dammn, you look good for your seventies. What’s your secret?”
William stammered in offense, “I’m not seventy! I’m thirty-six!”
The stranger’s flirty smile managed to change to more of a ‘gotcha’ look. “So, you are a millennial,” they stated. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”
“This is my house! I don’t even know you!” William yelled in frustration. This whole situation was confusing.
“Really? That’s surprising,” the stranger said in sincerity. “I’m (Y/n). I guess you should know that before I call the police on you.” (Y/n) gave a forced smile to William as they pulled out a slim object from their shorts pocket. William guessed it was a phone since they started to dial 911 within his sight.
“You know they’ll be arresting you right?” William jabbed, taking a step towards them. He was trying to look intimidating. It didn’t seem to faze the stranger.
“Look, I know we’re in the Bible Belt of Utah, Mr. Murder suspect, but the cops are competent enough to figure out who’s in the wrong,” (Y/n) spat back.
“Murder suspect?!” William scoffed.
“If you are William Afton, then you should know you’ve been a murder suspect since 1987. Clearly, you don’t know that, so, you aren’t him.” (Y/n) raised their eyebrows in amusement at the situation.
“What do you mean since? It is 1987!” William growled.
(Y/n) paused for a moment. They were so close to pressing the call button. “What?” They asked.
“It’s 1987,” William repeated, now getting the chance to look at (Y/n) like they were dumb.
“It’s 2024. Are you completely sure you’re not like on shrooms or something?” they had a concerned look come across their face. William looked dumbfounded.
“There’s no way that nearly forty years can pass in one night,” William laughed in response. He was trying to find the whole situation funny. It had to just be a prank after all. (Y/n) looked annoyed with the situation, like this has happened before.
”It’s 2024. There’s calendars everywhere, even online. Go look at them,’ (Y/n) suggested. “I still can’t fully trust that you are William Afton.” They looked at him like he was the intruder in the house. “The only way to tell for sure is if you actually did a DNA test.”
William glared at the true intruder in the house. “This is my house. I shouldn’t have to do a DNA test to get a stranger out of my own house.”
“Well, since it’s 2024 and your son sold me the house, it’s mine,” (Y/n) retorted.
William groaned in annoyance. “My son is only fifteen now,” he stated. “He doesn’t even have the money to pay a fraction of the mortgage on this house.”
(Y/n) glanced to the side for a moment. “He’s like forty,” they said. “Look, this has…” they trailed off for a moment. “If you take the DNA test, I won’t call the cops and I will let you stay in the house. Deal?”
William glared at the stranger in front of him. He had no idea what was going on. This was seeming less and less like it was a prank. The business man hated when things weren’t even close to being straightforward. “Fine, deal,” William agreed, holding out his hand. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment before shaking it, sealing the deal.
—
William impatiently waited at the dining table. “So, what exactly is going on?” he demanded. (Y/n) was pacing the dining room trying to get someone on the phone. In their hands was a small bag that contained a mouth swab they just fought William to get.
“I’m not exactly sure,” (Y/n) admitted. They groaned at the robotic voice repeating back the number they were calling to them. “As far as I know, this is another Henry situation,” they said, dialing the number again.
“Another ‘Henry’ situation?” William inquired with air quotes.
(Y/n) nodded, not offering any more context to what the situation may actually be. Finally, they got whoever they were trying to call on the phone.
The whole conversation took maybe five minutes. William watched as (Y/n) frantically explained the situation and made a pickup time for the DNA sample. They were silent for a couple of minutes before saying their goodbyes. (Y/n) looked back to William and sat down at the table across from him.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” They asked, crossing their arms on the table.
William sighed, knowing there was no other way to get answers than compliance. “I came home from work, did some writing, and then fell asleep,” he recalled.
“Do you know anything about, like a PizzaPlex—what’s the last restaurant you remember?” (Y/n) tapped the table with their fingers, making a claw shape with their hand.
“We just opened the toy location in Washington. It’s just outside St. George if you didn’t know,” William paused for a moment, “What’s a PizzaPlex?”
“It’s this massive Freddy’s location,” (Y/n) replied in a dismissive tone. William was happy to know his business was still doing well. “So, there is absolutely nothing that you remember besides falling asleep and waking up here?” They asked.
“Nothing,” William repeated.
(Y/n) cringed at his answer and tapped their hand on the table a couple times. “Well,” they began uncertainty seeping into their voice, “When the DNA test comes back we’ll see what we can do from there. If it comes up how I’m hoping it does, you’re a great actor. If it doesn’t… this is going to be a very strange experience.”
William narrowed his eyes at (Y/n) and leaned over the table a bit, adjusting himself in his chair. “Can I ask my questions now?”
They sighed in response. “Yes, yes, go ahead.”
“Why does my house look like some stoner has been living in it for the past two months?” He asked.
(Y/n) rolled their eyes and replied, “Well, I just had a party at my house. The cleaning crew doesn’t come till ten.”
“What are you 16?”
“I’m 25 with a job.”
“And what ‘job’ would that be?” William sneered.
(Y/n) narrowed their eyes at him in response. “I’m a secretary,” they lied. William looked them up and down. The clothes they wore at the moment wanted to tell him differently.
“Really? A secretary that throws massive parties?”
“It’s a kinder way to put it.”
“A kinder way? So you’re just some slut who decides to ruin—“
“Do not call me a slut, murderer,” (Y/n) snapped. “I’m letting you stay in my house, free of charge, without calling the police. You do not get to call me a fucking slut.”
“It’s my—“ William was quickly cut off by (Y/n). “No. It’s my house. The title is currently in my name and not yours. So, my house, my rules. If you don’t like that, have fun sleeping on the goddamn streets,” they shouted, slamming their hands on the table and slightly getting up from their seat. The two glared at each other for a moment before (Y/n) took a deep breath and sat back down. “…my house, my rules,” they reiterated.
William continued to glare at them, choosing not to say anything. He hated this situation; it made no sense to him and he couldn’t control any of it. The doorbell sounded harsh amongst the silence. (Y/n) stood up to go get the door, taking the DNA sample with them.
They came back in a few minutes without the baggie. “My cleaning crew is coming in about fifteen minutes. I would prefer it if you stayed out of the way. There’s a guest room you can get settled in upstairs.”
“I am not taking the guest room,” William stated. “I will be taking my room.”
“Oh, no, no, no, you old fuck, I’m taking my room and you will take the guest room.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m keeping my room. What do you suggest then?”
“I take my room, you figure your own shit out,” William mocked, making (Y/n) glare at him.
“Then I’m staying in there with you,” they said, crossing their arms. William narrowed his eyes at them as if to challenge their answer. He wanted his own room back. It was technically his since he originally bought the house.
He loured when they refused to budge and sighed as if he was defeated. “We’ll just share a room then,” he said, trying to scare them off. (Y/n) forced a smile that unnerved William a bit, and tilted their head to the side.
“Deal,” they agreed.