It was like any typical night in Hurricane, Utah. People were sleeping, rain was pouring. All except for one car. It was dark purple and it was speeding down the highway at 200 miles per hour. Loud 8-bit music called 240 bits per mile was heard from it. The driver was drunk, laughing his head off. He couldn't wait to get to Jr's with all his mates and do a chug battle. He planned to go home at about 4 am and watch TV while his wife and kid were sleeping. He will probably go to his son's room and have a good kick at him then he'll go to sleep at 8 am. The cops were after him but he didn't care. They always lost him. Was it the millionth time he got spotted speeding? Heck he didn't know. He lost count. The man had slick dark brown hair, a large pointed nose, bloodshot eyes and a wide sneer. He wore an bright orange jacket with a yellow shirt and grey striped overalls. His wife was pretty and a lot of resilience to put up with a drunk like our orange dude here. Their 14-year-old child was... strange.

The kid looked like his father, with the wide mouth, dark brown hair and large pointed nose. But he had pale blue eyes and was a bit chubby. He wore glasses which were often broken by his father in pure spite, black pants, white shirt and a purple vest. He was smart and excelled in every subject he came across. He was okay at PE. He was especially good at robotics and biology and was planning to have a career in that field. He was perfect. But... bad things happened around the boy. The father knew his kid was responsible but nobody believed him. On one occasion, a gang of bullies who thought they were cool, bullied his son almost every day. They pushed him over, ripped up his books and called him a Cake-eater and Dewdropper according to the principal. But after a few weeks, they went missing and their were found tied up inside trash cans a few days later. They didn't suspect the child since it would be impossible for him to kidnap kids twice his size. They had also suspected the orange man but there wasn't enough evidence. So they closed the case and moved on. Another occasion was when his son's first girlfriend turned out to be cheating on him. A few days later, her kitten was found dead inside her house with multiple stab wounds. The police again suspected the orange man but it also wasn't enough evidence. As a result, the orange man hated his son, often calling him a psychopath or a curse, often slapping and kicking him.

The orange man turned a corner into a dirt road with trees lining each side. The cops lost him like usual. He switched his mix-tape to another 8-bit track called 'Smashing Windshields' and drove down. Rain splattered across his windshield as the orange man turned into a parking lot and hopped out of his car. He staggered, waterlogged, to a brown building with a neon sign at the door reading "JR'S". However, there was a big and stocky dude with a green rain jacket at the doorway with his arms crossed. His face was scarred and looked like a wrestler. The orange man stepped jauntily to the green dude but he didn't move, his stony gaze was on the orange man.

"Come on, you know you can't be here. Don't make it more difficult than it has to be," complained the green man in a hard and stern voice.

"What?" spluttered the orange man as he stopped, "Since when was I not allowed in?"

"Last week," answered the green bouncer, "The employees saw you coming in here every day even though you were banned."

"Just let me in!" shouted the orange man as he tried to push aside the bouncer. The green man pushed the orange man away.

"Don't push it," warned the green man.

"As if you piece of sh*t!" spat the orange man. The fist came so fast that the orange man didn't have time to react. He span around and fell to his knees, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. The orange man stood up and staggered to his car. A loud cheer was heard from the pub with the popping of corks and breaking of glass. The orange man drove away, cursing to the pub.

"F*uck you!" he screamed, "F*uck your whole family! I hope they all die of ligma!"

He continued down the road as his radio died. The road grew thinner and thinner until there was only space for one car. He turned a corner into a vacant space. He hopped out from his car and stumbled to his house. It was blue with a brown roof. The man entered his house and found his wife at the TV.

"Why are you so early honey?" asked the wife, eyes fixed on the TV screen.

"Got kicked out of the pub for some reason," muttered the orange man as he hung his orange coat.

"Oh that is unfortunate."

"Don't try to play dumb with me you b*tch!" yelled the orange man as he slammed the table with his palm.

"Please don't take your anger out on your son. Leave him alone tonight. He had a rough day," muttered the wife.

"As if I'd listen to you," snapped the orange man as he headed to his son's room.

He tried to open it. It was locked.

"I told you not to close your door," the orange man shouted. He knocked on the door.

"This is my house. You can't ignore me like that."

He tried again to no avail.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" he screamed. He banged the door with his fist.

"I'll find a way in from outside," announced the orange man to the door. There was no answer.

"Little piece of crap," he muttered as he stormed out from his house. As he went around he saw that the window was smashed. Footprints went into the forest. Strangely, there were animistic footprints next to a bush. It was as if it was waiting for the boy. This wasn't the first time his son made detours.

"Ran off to that place again," he muttered, "He will be sorry when he gets back."

As he went back into the house, he slept early which was unusual for him. He was looking forward to beat the crap out of that brat, William Afton.