Eyes of Purple

Prologue

 William Afton was an ambitious man.

He was the type of man that everyone notices, the type who gives everyone the smallest sense of unease. It didn't matter if it was the eerie calm in his voice, the careful motions of his hands, his ability to hold the room. There was always the feeling that he knew everything about you at a glance, knew more than you ever could.

William Afton was a calculative man.

Cheerful, and falsely so. Waiting. Waiting for something. Nobody knew particularly what, and no one wanted to find out.

Obnoxious music sparked to life as his radio creaked on. A pale hand slapped at it, the man's interest fixed on a particularly enraging article in the paper's business section. His eyes, a bit tired as the years dragged on, had never lost their gleam of silver.

Those silver eyes- if a person was generous, the'd say he had the eyes of a genius. A lesser man would say they were those of a mad-man. Grown men shivered when he fixed his gaze on them, often in a reserved form of malice.

He could see through you.

William Afton could see everything.

"Morons." Whenever he opened his mouth, one wanted his voice to be harsh, grating, something that could put you off. Rarely so. 

Slowly rolling his shoulder around, it protested by making a small pop before going back in its place. "Hydroponics are obviously the way to go. Anyone could see that, if they want to develop those infernal machines." 

He shook his head in a sort of exasperated motion. William grinned, and lay back on his bed in suppressed glee. A new contender in the robotics restaurant chain of business? It had been so very long since he'd had a rival. A proper one, at any rate. A Henry. Everyone was too scared of something now. But, what is life without a little...

Chaos, yes. Or excitement. None of this soft mess swirling around his head.

Bad for business. He was hungry for another Henry.

"Candy's Burgers and Fries," he read, holding the newspaper vertically over his head and rolling the name around. William scoffed. "Spare me the indecency. Fazbear's hasn't had an incident in years." The honeyed accent he'd had for a lifetime was coming out clipped, as always when he got stressed. His expression began to morph into one more thoughtful. Even if his tone was indifferent, for the first time in years, he had become... interested in something. Someone.

An animatronic cat would do for now. Maybe even hold him down for a few months, half a year. If he was lucky.

"I really ought to hire another marketing assistant. The current one-" cutting himself off, he reached onto the nightstand and began scribbling onto a notepad in illegible handwriting.

"-Yes," he mused. "That or I'll have to have a... little chat with this CTC Entertainment company. Can't have them having the wrong idea about their competitors, yes?"

No one answered. Afton lived alone. He had no reason or desire to start this over again. There was no point.

Sighing, he sat up yet again and swung himself out of the bed. Time to pretend he had his company, his life, in check.

William Afton actually laughed at the thought.

Try not to get so angry or depressed that you've suited someone again.

​ ​Afton's hair was getting longer. It didn't escape his notice when it became a bit shaggy, and it certainly didn't notice it now. No point in getting a haircut. Afton pulled it into a tail and tore his eyes away from the mirror. The hair was the only thing he could stand seeing about himself, anyways. Everything else just looked too... perfect.