Chapter Text
Gregory wasn’t exactly sure of where he was at the moment.
He woke up in a bed, which wasn’t the strangest thing in the world, he supposed. What was strange is that he didn’t recognize anything about his surroundings; the blue-ish white wallpaper, the dark blue furniture, and the plastic stars stuck to the walls didn’t ring any bells in his mind. In fact, he couldn’t seem to remember where he was supposed to wake up at all. It alarmed him, the fact that he was grasping at a memory and it was just slipping through his fingers.
Speaking of, his hands were shaking as he slowly peeled the blanket off himself, revealing gray pajamas that he didn’t know he owned. He slid his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, albeit shakily. His legs faltered under him as he attempted to take a step, almost sending him straight to the floor if he didn’t catch himself. It was like he was learning how to walk for the very first time, but after a moment, the movement came naturally, and he was making his way into the hallway of the unknown building he found himself in.
The grandfather clock seemed to stare at him immediately, ticking away ominously, like it was waiting for something. Besides that, the hallway was barren, but there was a door to his right and more hall to his left. With a deep breath, he went to the right and pressed his ear against the wooden door, listening for a moment before deciding that nothing was awaiting him on the other side. He opened it slowly, just in case, and found another bedroom. This one had a similar set up to the one he awoke in, but with a ‘girlier’ feel to it; decorated with flowers and pink things. Either way, it was a dead end, so Gregory kept moving, not staying long enough to thoroughly investigate.
Eventually he found himself in a living room, with an old couch and a large, square TV. It was turned off, and Gregory realized he didn’t know how to turn it on, so he just let it be. There was a door to his left, but the hall continued ahead, leading into a corridor with two doors on both sides. Three of them were closed, but one of them, the front-left one, was ajar.
It made him pause. Was it open because someone was in there? Should he be worried?
Slowly, Gregory tip-toed forward, staying close to the left wall until he was close enough in the doorway to peer in. He heard his heart pumping in his ears as he gazed upon the sight before him, eyes. Dozens of eyes were staring back at him, and Gregory startled hard enough that he had to slap a hand over his mouth, just so he didn’t scream. The room was filled with metal beings that had large, glossy eyes, and the boy was positive that half of them had seen him by now. Many of the creatures looked… unfinished. Like someone was creating them and hadn’t quite gotten to certain limbs or appendages yet. And that made sense, as something in his mind reminded him that the metal beings weren’t alive but were simply inventions.
The pumping of his heart slowed down for a moment, but that’s when he spotted the true terror. A desk sat at one edge of the room, and on that desk was another one of the metal creatures, being… tampered with by a man sitting in a chair, leaning over the thing ominously. He held a tool in his hand, something metal and sharp, something Gregory did not want anywhere near him.
Unfortunately for him, before he could quietly turn the opposite direction, the man spoke. “You’re awake,”
Gregory froze. Carefully, he crept into the doorway fully, though he wasn’t sure if it made a difference as the man continued to work on the metal beast, not looking at the boy at all.
The man worked the tool in his hand expertly, like he’d been doing so for years, but he took a second to tap on one of the glossy eyes next to him. “These scare you?”
“...Yes,” the boy whispered. He was a bit surprised by his own response, not because he believed he was too frightened to speak, but because his voice sounded so different from the man’s. The syllables were pronounced differently, spoken in a way that sounded fluid and eloquent. Gregory’s were not. His words were flat and dull. It was wrong. Why did he know it was wrong?
“Good,” the man said simply, returning to his work. “They’re dangerous. I need you to understand that. You are never to set foot in this room, got it?”
Gregory nodded immediately, though he felt silly for doing so as the man couldn’t see the gesture, so he said, “Yes sir.”
The man hummed, setting down the strange tool and standing from his seat. Gregory didn’t know what he expected to see, but it wasn’t what was now in front of him.
The face before him was… completely normal. In fact, it even seemed oddly comforting to Gregory. The man was all sharp angles and icy eyes, and yet his features felt familiar; welcoming. He wasn’t a terrifying monster like the boy had been afraid of, he was just some guy.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, clapping his hands together happily. “I have leftovers from dinner last night that I can heat up. Or, heck, I could even cook your favorite.”
“My… My favorite,” Gregory repeated, taking a step back so the man could walk through the doorway, into the hall. “How do you… I don’t even know-”
The man opened the front-right door and led the boy into the room, revealing it to be a kitchen. “I do hope I have eggs, though. It’s been a long while since I’ve had to cook a proper meal, you see.”
As the man was checking the fridge, Gregory couldn’t help but blurt out the glaring question on his mind. “Who are you?”
The man paused and turned to look at the boy with an indecipherable expression on his face.
“My,” he said, eyebrows furrowing with worry. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought.”
“I… What?” Gregory questioned, hugging his arms around himself.
The man closed the fridge door and stepped forward, kneeling and placing a hand on Gregory’s cheek. “How much do you remember?”
The question gave him pause. How much did he remember? Remember what? Everything? He remembered-
And that’s when it hit him. He… He didn’t remember. He didn’t remember anything. Sure, he knew his name, but that’s about it. He knew nothing about who he was or where he was or who he was related to. He didn’t even know what his favorite food was, like the man had mentioned. Did he know anything? What else didn’t he know?
The man shushed him, running his thumb across the boy’s cheek and wiping the tears away. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here; you’re okay. Just breathe, son.”
Son.
This man… This man was his father? No, he would know that. He should know that. What didn’t he know?
“I- I don’t-” Gregory stuttered out, gasping for air in between words. “I don’t- r- remember-”
“I know, I know,” the man- his father soothed, pulling him into a firm hug. “It’ll all be okay.”
Would it? Would it be okay? How could things be okay when he felt like a stranger to the entire world?
But… his father was hugging him; embracing him tightly, and he could feel himself believing his father’s words. Maybe, if he was here for him like this, it would all be okay.
And so, he felt his forehead drop onto the man’s shoulder as tears started to soak his shirt, and he allowed himself a moment to cry, feeling comfortable enough to let the fear and despair overtake him while knowing that his father would be his tether to safety.
<><><>
This is what he knew so far.
- His name is Gregory Afton, and he is ten years old.
- He lives with his father, William Afton.
- He has amnesia.
- He used to have a mother, but she died in a car accident, the very same car accident that put him into a coma and caused his amnesia. He used to live with her primarily, but they moved in with his father a year before the accident.
- He is never to go into his father’s workshop, because the ‘animatronics’ are unpredictable and dangerous if used incorrectly. His father works on these machines because that’s his job; he used to run a restaurant that featured them as mascots.
- The girly room belongs to no one. At least, no one he’s supposed to talk about. He can’t go there either.
- Father doesn’t like to answer questions. He gets… irritated easily. Gregory must be careful so that he stays happy.
- Gregory cannot leave the house without his father.
It has been about a month since Gregory woke up from his coma. Or at least, that’s what the 1986 calendar said. Regardless, he was starting to get restless. He had been doing the same routine every single day, and it had become boring around the end of the first week. But what else could he do? Father said it was the beginning of summer, and that he couldn’t start school until fall. He was tasked with doing homework while Father was at his job, but that got tedious easily, as Gregory had learned everything in the books rather quickly, and it was now becoming repetitive. He also had daily chores, but once he learned how to do them properly, they too became monotonous. He didn’t have any friends (not like he could leave the house to see them anyway), and he didn’t have any siblings (who lived with them, at least), so it was just him in the house all day, alone.
A thought had crept into his mind at this point, a very disobedient and reckless thought. He knew the animatronics in Father’s workshop were dangerous, but couldn’t he simply avoid them? Not touch them? Why wasn’t he allowed in there at all? Surely it wouldn’t hurt to… explore a little.
Before he knew it, he was standing in the hallway with the four doors, shifting the weight on his feet from one side to the other, practically pacing in place. He couldn’t go in. He shouldn’t go in, but that little voice at the back of his head was beckoning him, creating an itch that needed to be scratched.
He didn’t give it another thought, he just gripped the doorknob tightly and pushed the door open, not being surprised by the sight of the eyes this time.
The workshop was rather tidy and organized, Gregory realized. He would have to be careful to not put anything back in the wrong place.
Slowly, he crept into the small room, avoiding the metal mascots as best as he could, because he really did believe his father when he said they were dangerous. Gregory headed straight for the desk, unsure of what exactly he was looking for, but knowing it would probably be there.
There was no machine on top of the desk this time, which was good, as Gregory did not want to make eye contact with an endoskeleton for an extended period. Instead, there were lots of notes and sketches, all scribbled onto different papers with pencil lead. Pictures of mechanical animals and notes about how each one acted and worked, and how they could make changes to improve them. All of them must have been for work.
Gregory moved onto the drawers. In the top drawer was a bunch of stationery, which he basically ignored because what’s interesting about stationery? Next was a bunch of tools and parts, wrenches, screwdrivers, small hammers. Also boring. The bottom drawer is where something different happened.
Locked. It was locked. That meant there was something there.
He had to find the key. Wait, no. No, he didn’t. There were a million tools and loose parts in this room, who’s to say he couldn’t use those to pick the lock?
Gregory got to work immediately, going back to the first drawer and finding a paperclip that he bent into an odd, squiggly shape. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he stuck it into the lock and started twisting. When that didn’t work, he re-bent it and tried again. Then again. And again. Eventually, he heard a soft click, and the drawer opened.
Gregory leaned over the drawer, examining its contents. It was mostly filled with blueprints, blueprints for animatronics that didn’t look like the others on top of the desk. These ones were made of wires, like some of the endoskeletons in the workshop were, but these looked much larger. Two human machines and two animals. They were clown-like, circus freaks. Gregory didn’t like them at all. This isn’t what interested him, though. First, there was some kind of tool. He couldn’t name exactly what it was, as he wasn’t familiar with how things were built, but it was different from the other tools. It was a handheld electronic with a small screen at the top of it, with two metal prongs sticking out of the base. At the bottom, it looked like there was a slot to put some kind of wire or something, but nothing was inserted. Gregory tried turning it on a couple of times, but he couldn’t figure out a way for it to work. There was also a notepad at the bottom of the drawer, open to a random page.
‘How to put her back together? Perhaps her programming is holding her back? Remember to send Michael an offer for the job. New number is XXX-XXX-XXXX’
Who was ‘her?’ Who was ‘Michael?’ Put her back together? He must be talking about an animatronic. Why was this hidden in a locked drawer? It must be important.
Well, he knew the first thing he had to do. Finding the wire for this device shouldn’t be too difficult, as it should be in the room somewhere. He could figure out what it was used for and why it was locked up. Then, Gregory had to call this ‘Michael.’ There was a landline phone in the kitchen. All he had to do was go over and input the number-
A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up from his sitting position, tugging him out of the workshop and into the hallway with four doors. Gregory struggled in their grip but wasn’t strong enough to break out of it. He froze when he saw Father’s face, enraged and hateful.
He’s angry with you, his mind supplied helpfully. That was the only thought that he had before a hand slapped across his face.
Gregory tumbled to the ground, that’s how strong the hit was. Or maybe Gregory was just off-balance. Either way, the force pushed him to the side and his legs crumpled beneath him, sending his head into the edge of the kitchen’s doorframe. He felt the impact before he knew what was happening, the pain blooming like a flower in the sunlight. His cheek stung and his head was throbbing, but Father was pulling him up to his knees, expecting him to focus on his words.
“What the hell were you doing in there?!” Father questioned, shaking the boy by the shoulders. “Answer me!”
Gregory’s head felt fuzzy, but he had a command, and he knew he had to obey it. “I- I just- I just wanted to see…”
“You disobeyed me,” Father’s lips pursed at that, and he looked down at him with what seemed to be disgust. “...You’re not him. You’re not like him at all, you’re just- you’re just wrong.”
With that, he let go of Gregory’s shoulders, letting the boy fall back to the ground as his hands were the only thing holding him up. And Gregory couldn’t help but start crying, his tears soaking the carpet below him.
‘You’re just wrong.’
Why did the words hurt him? Why were they more painful than his actual wounds?
Father went into his workshop immediately, closing the door behind him and locking it.
And Gregory was still on the floor, sobbing as his head spun torturously.
He no longer had that tether of safety, and he knew that nothing would be okay ever again.