1983

1983, August

On the first day of August, Jessica had a doctor's appointment. Mark didn't see her for the rest of the night. He silently made dinner by himself, and went to sleep in his bed.

He didn't see her the next day, either, and he got dressed in his security, 'uniform'- though it wasn't a uniform at all- and got in his car to drive to the diner.

When Mark arrived and sat in his car in the parking lot, he saw people all around the entrance, heads bowed, and silent. There were even a couple of kids. Mark slipped around their congregation and through the side entrance. He went into the check-in booth from the dining room to see William and Henry there; the latter of which was sitting on the counter, head bowed, his cap in both hands.

"Mark," he began quietly. "It's over. We're going to be forced to shut this project down. Those people outside are protesting, mourning the loss of William's son."

The aforementioned man squeezed his hands into tight fists, and Mark winced. How hard it must be, to lose the youngest of two children. William had told Mark and Henry that his older son was now in juvy... though neither of them bought it. Henry had called Mark at twelve in the morning of that day, proclaiming his theory that William was doing something to his son....

But suddenly Mark's mind reeled back to the present... "Shut down?!" he exclaimed, shocked.

Henry solemnly looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he said. "As our sponsor and good friend, I know this will be hard for you," he nearly choked.

Mark winced again. "What's forcing us to shut down?"

"The people," William said sternly, loud enough for the whole room to hear him- even if the three of them were only in a fraction of the space. "Those idiots outside have been protesting all morning. Don't they understand that it was my son?! I should be out there with them! But I am willing to keep this business going. It's me!" His voice had risen to a scream by the end of his monologue.

William picked up the cash register and threw it at the wall opposing the check-in counter. As soon as the small machine hit the wall, its base was crushed between the wall and the rest of its own body. Parts flew off of its bottom out of stress, and buttons were forced into the air and out of their places from the recoil as the machine flew backward and away from the wall. Its digital screen was shattered, and the small, glass shards were scattered along the patterned carpet. He then crumbled against the wall next to the machine, and began to weep.

Mark and Henry went to him, as the two of them knelt down on either side of their friend and business partner. The three of them sat against that wall for who-knows-how-long, and when William stood up, the other two were unprepared. They nearly fell on top of each other as their compatriot stood, but they readjusted and quickly followed suit. As Mark rose, he caught a glimpse of William's face; it was impressed with tears, and his eyes were redder than anything Mark had ever seen before. Patterns like vein roots went all throughout Afton's otherwise-lively eyes... it was uncanny.

"Thank you, my friends," his formal pattern of speech breaking for a moment.

"Of course," Henry said, rather tenderly. "We're here for you." He patted the Brit's back, then returned to his seat on the counter.

"If I can stay calm through this, though what I did just now is not evidence to that, then so can they." William pointed accusingly at the door.

"They're just confused," Henry said, and Mark saw the instant regret on his face as soon as the words came out.

William glared at him. "But I'm not confused? I'm not confused as to why my son has been killed by your creation, after your show was supposed to end?!"

Henry looked hurt. "This isn't my fault," he said quietly; somberly. Mark felt like he didn't belong in this conversation, and was thinking about just outright leaving, when William invited him into the dining hall.

"Come on, Mark," he growled. "Let me show you something."

Mark looked after Henry as he followed Afton into the dining room. The former man looked hurt, and seemed aged far more than he actually was. Mark wasn't truly concerned until William turned on his heel, heading past scattered party tables and into the supply closet, where the Fredbear and Spring Bonnie suits were on display, sitting limply on the floor. He remembered what William had said about them.

Mark became breathless. "William, what's going on?"

William put a hand on his shoulder. "Remember this room," he said, his voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. As if he weren't even talking to Mark, but rather someone else. "Remember this room in a couple of months," he said, and turned on his heel, leaving Mark alone in the room.

Chandar stood in the center of the small closet, looking down at the two golden suits. The large Fredbear suit was limp, and so was the Spring Bonnie, but... something was wrong with the latter. Mark approached the golden rabbit, and felt a presence inside of its hollow eyes, a presence behind its blank buck teeth. Something sinister... something that would want to hurt without reason. Then its mask tilted back, its hollow eyes looked up at him, and...

Mark opened his eyes wide, heaving. He was sat on the floor of the dining hall, and it looked to him as if though he had rolled backward out of the backroom's doors, which stood hanging open in front of him. Mark stood and turned, hurrying away from the closet undoubtedly full of creatures.