Prologue: All Your Friends Are Dead

Michael S. Afton was, for all intents and purposes, a perfectly normal 6-year-old boy. He is the son of a William and Joan Afton, brother to an Elizabeth Afton, and soon another brother, yet to be named. His father co-owned a growing chain of family-oriented pizzerias, outfitted with the latest in life-like animatronic technology. Outgoing and confident, he found himself at the center of a group of friends he led in various misadventures. Of all of them, his favorite was Charlotte Emily, a girl whose father worked with his father on this business venture. Charlie was less fascinated by the characters like her friends were and more with what lay beneath the masks and constant smiles. She didn't seek out adventure, but it often found her, which is what attracted Michael. He often had to rescue her from being stranded in the middle of town, or them both trying to avoid the night guard as they snuck through the pizzeria. They were a good pair, and even better friends, as it turns out that having to be over at the other's house while their fathers argue in the basement got you close.

So it happened that one rainy night, when Michael was stuck at a birthday party for a kid he didn't even know while his father entertained the crowd, he missed her. It was an average party, with the cake and the pizza and the screaming. Balloons flew, parents ignored their offspring to the best of their abilities, and it was true, sweaty, glorious chaos. Michael was not a fan. He was stuck there, with no one to talk to, no one to bother, and nothing to do. The party had been everything he had seen before and more, as the birthday child chose a pirate-themed party. Michael was going crazy with the originality of this idea.

Michael hated having to sit there and be stuck with an increasing number of morons, twiddling his thumbs and thinking about how much he didn't want to be here. The only true excitement that night had been when some kid knocked over some arcade machine called Polybius, and even then barely anyone cared except some guy in a business suit. The only spark of hope there was to save the night was Charlie. She was supposed to be there already, but she had a rehearsal and Michael had no idea how long that was supposed to last. A gaggle of girls passed, giggling about how, "it was her loss." Michael didn't know what they were talking about, nor did he care to know, but he was still restless. He got up and started pacing the tables, pausing only to sneak glances at the window. He didn't even know where his father was that night, so why did he have to be here?!

His line of thought was interrupted by some commotion over by the Puppet's box. It was heading out the door, which despite the fact that it was physically impossible for it to be floating like that, he thought was just something they could do. It was all part of the magic, he supposed.

Ah, the innocence and foolishness of a child.

Michael was fond of Charlie, and wanted nothing more than to chat it up with her about the night, or maybe sneak around and find out what was in the kitchen. Anything to brighten his evening. So imagine his disappointment when Henry came over and told him that Charlie wouldn't be there that night.

Charlotte J. Emily was, for all intents and purposes, a perfectly happy 6-year-old girl. She is the daughter of a Henry and Dora Emily, sister to Sammy Emily. Her father co-owned a growing chain of family-oriented pizzerias, outfitted with the latest in life-like animatronic technology. Caring and likable, she found herself at the center of a group of friends involved in various misadventures. Of all of them, her favorite was Michael Brooks, a boy that seemed to attract all that knew him to being his friend. He was often always pushing forward, if forward meant somewhere that caused trouble. He often had to be rescued from getting caught in the wrong side of town, or getting stuck in the security offices. They were a good pair, and even better friends, as they both frequent Freddy's, although one of them was required to be there sometimes.

So it happened that when it came time for all of the friends to leave after a long day of partying, she missed him. She was gazed at the animatronics, trying to divine what they were trying to tell her. Their motions had picked up, their eyes were gazing blankly into space, their voices glitched and stuttered under the stress of whatever had possessed them to cause this disturbance. She found herself almost offended at the mascots for daring to disobey her father's programming. It was sacred, a gift that they should treasure. How could they be acting out like this? It was an insult to his talent. And as suddenly as it started, it stopped, and they appeared to reboot. The night had continued on like normal, like nothing ever happened.

Carlton said something crude about mating dances, but Charlie ignored him. Right now she was focused on her father, who had come out of his office and was staring at the bots. Something felt wrong about the way he was looking at them, like he wanted to stride up their and open them up, to see what was happening. After a while, he went back into his office and hid there for the rest of the party, only coming out when it was time to go home. It was then that Charlie noticed that Michael wasn't with them, and called out into the emptying restaurant for him. Silence returned her call. She ignored how the mascots seemed to be gazing at her with a sad look in their eye, or how she felt that something had went horribly, undeniably wrong. She thought nothing of it, and only thought ahead to tomorrow, when she would see him in 2nd-period art class. And with that, she turned and headed out into the darkening night.

Charlie was fond of Michael, and wanted nothing more than to talk about how the mascots worked, or what he would be up to that day. Anything to brighten her morning. So imagine how terrible she felt when she found out that Michael wouldn't be coming to school that day.

William Afton did nothing but take. He took innocence, he took happiness, he took lives. His killings left a bloody trail of hauntings, cults dedicated to his work, and broken families. Families that would never be whole again, friendships that would remain forever broken, all these relations torn apart by one man. Of course, whenever such a person causes such drastic events, it is to be expected that a single change, one minuscule detail can change the story in large ways. A thread, fraying and twisting in all these different directions. Thus, when one friend loses the other, they will never see each other again.

Until the threads merge, by pure accident, and they do.

And it's terrible.