Deceptive

The Dead Man

"You know, you seemed super eager to keep us away from Afton when we arrived. What changed?"

"You seemed eager to see him when you arrived. What changed?"

Foxy huffed, "Don't respond to my question with a question."

"Why not?" There was a notable hint of amusement in Elizabeth's voice that hadn't yet left. "I think it's an equally valid question. Why don't you want to see Father anymore? Is the little fox scared?"

"No, I just think it's really suspicious that you changed your mind all of a sudden."

Foxy was forced to round another corner.

"My mind never changed. I think you forget that most of what I say and do has a high likelihood of not being genuine, or just being an attempt to mislead you."

Suddenly, they stopped. They stopped in front of yet another closed door.

Elizabeth got close to his ear once more. "We're here," she told him quietly. "Try to behave yourself."

She then proceeded to very loudly kick the door open. The room that was behind it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

A wheeled metal table stood somewhat close to the doorway. Four pairs of handcuffs were dangling off of the metal crossbar that connected the legs, two on each side. Red smears covered the surface.

Rusty chains and manacles hung from one wall, and rusty tools (some medical and some not) were hung on the opposite one next to a trash chute.

A few more tables and small chairs were strewn around the rest of the room. It looked as though one of the chairs was occupied, but Foxy couldn't make out who was in it. They were out of range of the small lights in the ceiling.

The air was sickly sweet. Something or someone was rotting nearby.

"For Scott's sake, be more careful with that door will you?" A tall figure clad in a nasty, molting, green-ish yellow rabbit suit emerged from one of the darkest parts of the room. The nasty smell grew stronger as he got closer.

"Sorry, Father." Elizabeth bowed her head slightly. "I brought a guest with me."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Don't be rude, grab him a seat."

Afton turned on another light as Elizabeth sat Foxy down on one of the multiple chairs in the room, illuminating the other seated individual.

Foxy nearly jumped up but was cut short by Elizabeth forcing him back down.

"Michael!"

Michael was tied to a chair with old chains, looking quite ready to pass out. His curly hair was pasted to his forehead with sweat and blood.

"Now, now, no need to get up. Michael and I were just doing a little catching up before you arrived. He's fine."

Michael tried to say something, but nobody could understand him because he had a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

"It's been such a long time since we've seen one another. We have a lot to discuss. A lot of bonding to do." With his final sentence, Afton took a rather large saw off of the wall and sat it down on the table that was closest to his oldest son.

Foxy wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. He wanted to spit out all of the resentment and hatred that he had gained towards William Afton in the short time he had gotten to know him, but it was all caught in his throat.

Why did he always have to lose his ability to function properly when it mattered most? Why couldn't he even be brave enough to tell Afton to eat shit and die again like he really wanted to?