BlueyCapsules | VOLUME TWO

Let's Try This Again

 It had been a solid four months since meeting Boseman, and miraculously, William hadn't grown to like him one bit.

Even now, standing in the lobby of the new-and-improved location, all he felt was disdain watching that goddamn Irish fuck eye his robots on the stage. Not to mention, Henry still had that stupid, sparkly look in his eye whenever Boseman was around.

"Well, here we are, laddies!" Boseman didn't look at them when he spoke. He was too busy looking over the shiny new animatronics. "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria! So glad you 'ceded to making the new mascot your little brown bear. What a perfect name, too, 'Freddy'. Rolls off the tongue like a dime, if I do say so myself!"

"I totally agree, Mr. Boseman, sir!" Henry piped up cheerfully. William scoffed under his breath, looking off to the side.

"Speaking of which, we have to open this little shack of ours, don't we?" Boseman rubbed his chin. "And...speaking of that, we don't have a single employee, 'sides you chumps. Unfortunately."

William didn't say anything, but he glanced at Henry, who just kept smiling cheerfully. Didn't he even care that this bloke was insulting them?

"So I took the liberty of finding help - better than you could ever possibly find...he used to work at another one of my restaurants, and let me tell ya, he's top quality." Boseman grinned. "Let me introduce you to our first employee. He's young, but he's a real smart kid. One of the best in the business, I'd say."

The door to the back area swung open, and out stepped a short, pudgy, baby-faced man with short, deep blue hair and red eyes. He seemed nervous to be there, though his face lit up with excitement at the sight of William and Henry,. He gave a nervous little wave, smiling.

"Hell-o, hell-o! Nice to meet you all! The name's Phil. Philip Guy."

Bloody hell, he sounded just like Scott.

...And he looked like a loser.

"This...is the best in the business?" William's voice was dripping with doubt. This kid couldn't have been older than 25, tops. Henry seemed less bothered, moving forward to shake Philip's hand.

"Welcome! It's great to meet you. My name is Henr-"

William shoved them both aside to get to Boseman, rolling his eyes. He didn't have time for all this meet and greet shit.

"Hey, boss," William said sharply, the word leaving his mouth dunked in sarcasm. "You didn't forget our deal, did ya? You promised to give my nut brother a job when we opened this shithole?"

Boseman groaned, waving a hand at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I didn't forget." His gaze shifted behind William, and William turned, jumping as Vincent stood there fully uniformed. Okay, he definitely had not been there before. Despite his promise, Boseman seemed reluctant to accept Vincent as their only other employee, immediately turning to the counter, where a number of fliers and applications lay scattered.

"Did only one person apply for a job...?"

William watched as Henry rushed over to help, and turned to Vincent with a glare.

"Vincent, you fucking idiot," he hissed. "I swear this is the last time I do you a favor."

Vincent just shrugged and grinned, pulling a folded-up piece of sheet paper from his back pocket and unfolding it. He tried to hand the crinkled paper to Boseman, smiling bright.

"Here's my resume, bossy."

Resume? William crept over, looking over Vincent's shoulder and paling; That wasn't a bloody resume. That was a piece of printer paper that Vincent had scribbled a bunch of bullshit on with crayon. 'Criminal record'? 'Fuck capitalist pigz'? What did that even mean? He snatched the 'resume' from Vincent with a scowl and a quiet 'oi', and then for good measure, shoved it into his back pocket, where he'd hidden the rest of the applications.

What? He had to assure his brother's job, somehow.

"Well..." Boseman sighed, glancing over Vincent's application. "It appears only one person applied to our restaurant...matters not, I suppose! One is better than none, as I always say!"

William rolled his eyes.

Boseman discarded the application carelessly, pulling his cigar from his teeth and beckoning Philip over - the young man scampered over to him like a pet dog, wide-eyed and unassuming.

"Might as well show Philip all the things he's required to do as part of his contract..." Boseman glanced at William. "Afton, you mind showing you brother the ropes?"

William shrugged in response, and Boseman left; Henry, of fucking course, followed. For a moment, William could feel Henry's gaze on him, but he refused to make eye contact with him. As far as William was concerned, the two of them weren't on speaking terms, right now. Betraying him for some Irish bastard...what a louse.

"Vincent, you know the plan, don't you?" William began to lead Vincent through the dark pizzeria, glancing back to be sure he was following. "You play the role of a dedicated worker, and you get the money to pay off your bloody love bus upgrade."

"I knew you cared about me, little bro~!"

William scowled at Vincent's saccharine tone, stopping in his tracks and spinning around to jab an angry finger into his brother's chest.

"You bloody idiot, just focking listen to me," he snapped. "You just do your little job around here, and I will do the rest, you hear?!"

Vincent tried to wrap around William in a hug; William jerked away from him, holding him back with a hand to the face. Absolutely not.

A solid three hours had passed of William shouting at Vincent, ignoring Henry, and bitching with Boseman before anything actually got done; Finally, as William was poorly attempting to guide Philip through restocking the soft drink area, his good-for-nothing brother came back. On his chest was his name, printed shiny and new on a gold name tag. He tapped Philip on the shoulder, holding out a similar one for him to take.

"Hey, I got our name tags."

"Ah, uh," Philip smiled sweetly, putting his stack of drink cups down so he could take the tag from Vincent. "Thanks!" His smile faded quickly when he looked down at the tag in his hand, prompting William to glance over his shoulder. Embossed in the gold tag was not Phil, or Philip, but, for some reason 'baby'. William snorted, though Philip looked rather distraught. "Ah, uh...Mr. Vincent, this tag says 'baby'?"

"Isn't that your name, Baby?" Vincent asked, seeming very genuine.

"Doesn't matter," Boseman piped up, patting Philip on the shoulder. "These tags cost me a pretty penny. They're made of solid gold, you see?"

Phil made an uncomfortable face, but pinned the tag reluctantly to his shirt, anyway.

All that there was left to do, at this point, was clean up and do some basic maintenance on the animatronics, which meant that while he, Henry, Vincent and Phil all busted their asses, Boseman was going to sit around on his ass. Typical Irishman. William got to work anyway, securing the joints on Fredbear, making sure nothing would fall off mid-show. He tried not to look up at him too much. They had never quite been able to scrub the bloodstains

its okay michael im proud of you youre just like your father

out of that faux fur material, and they couldn't afford a re-skinning. William was reaching down for an allen wrench when the bucket of tools toppled over.

"Bollocks," he muttered, assuming he'd knocked it down with his tool - at least, until a large hand suddenly tousled his hair. William turned sharply to look up at Boseman as he retracted his hand, seeming disgusted. What the hell did he expect? He'd been working all day. Boseman just looked smugly down at him before walking off, waving a hand.

"Oopsie," he called. "You oughtta take better care of your stuff, Afton!"

William scowled, his brow twitching. He wasn't going to stand for this, he decided. Not forever.