Chapter 13 – An Evening with Afton

"Seven-thirty...Wow,"

"What about it?"

"I never finish by seven thirty. Usually it's by eleven thirty or midnight when I'm done, sometimes even later..." Afton said.

Initially, he thought this would be easy. Or at least, it was when he first came at five. There were a few people that he didn't know working there that gave him some suspicious looks, mostly college kids like him and few adults, and it took him a few seconds to realize that this was the place he actually worked at.

He was right when he said that this place looked better in the daylight. The long shadows outside of the corner of his eye were gone, as well as any indication that this place could look like something out of a Saw movie. Bright reds on the walls looked more ripe strawberries instead of dried blood, posters looked happy and cheerful instead of creepily watching him with plastered-on expressions, and the cold black walls actually being a warm shade of dark plum. And unlike the night, there were actually a few families passing through and a few workers that gave him suspicious looks, mostly college kids like him and few adults, before they realized that he worked there along with them, except at night.

The daylight made the place so radically different, that Emmet actually had to remind himself that this was in fact the same restaurant with a mysterious voice that spoke to him and also housed the robots that had a bone to pick with the night guard for shocking them.

Mr. Afton shook him out of his shock, and got him to start working on whatever he had planned for him.

Initially, he thought he would it would be nothing too difficult from what he had said last night. Perhaps nothing more than a few areas to clean up, maybe organizing a few folders out of place, and moving around some cargo. Nothing too extreme that he could not handle of finish before it was too late. And possibly, he could visit the robots and possibly see their performance and how they actually acted in the daylight.

That was, until he saw the dumpster fire that was Mr. Afton's desk, filing cabinet, and general organization of the restaurant/ rental store's important documents, files, and blueprints. Once he saw that suddenly, it became obvious that this would be anything but not too extreme and something he could finish early.

And after two and a half long hours of cleaning up the restaurant, organizing papers, cleaning cabinets, moving boxes and spare parts to the supply closet (Strangely, all of the rooms that he glanced into were completely empty.), occasional business stuff for Mr. Afton, and other meager tasks from Five in the afternoon to seven thirty at night, he felt completely brain-dead. How secretaries and other officer workers managed to do this drudgery for over eight hours amazed Emmet, and if anything, made him appreciate their work, however boring it was.

Despite the drudgery, he could not help but feel a little bit of pride from how much they (Mostly Emmet) managed to accomplish the Two and a half hours of constant cleaning and reorganizing. And for the first time he had seen him, Mr. Afton actually looked pleased. Or at least, content with him and his now very clean desk and almost organized filing cabinet.

"Well, that's the last of them," Emmet said a yellow manila folder labeled blueprints/prototypes into the filing cabinet. "Anything else?"

Afton stood there, looking around the lobby for a few brief seconds before stopped.

"Nope," He said "Not that I can think of,"

Emmet felt a wave of relief sweep over him as he closed the last of the filing cabinets and stretched from his hunched over position, feeling a pleasure-filled crack of his spine and the tingle of pins and needles in his feet.

Two and a half hours He thought.Two and a half hours of his life down the tube. Two and a half long and boring hours for that matter that he could have done something better with rather than organizing. But he could only assume that he was doing what was right; after all, his job was at stake. Better to lose a few hours of his life if it meant that he could keep a job. Or at the very least, see the robots when they weren't performing in some high-security defense mode at night.

If anything, this was good start to learn some of the more important lessons of life. Although he wasn't sure what the lesson was for doing this, he figured it was somewhere around the lines of don't goof off at work. Or don't bring videogames to work. Or, at the very least, bring a less conspicuous bag for when going to work. Eitherway, the effect was still the same – be more responsible or else. And while those Two and a half hours were enough to make him not ever do that under Afton's watchful eye, he was sure that there had to be something a bit more than just that. Something greater about this that Mr. Afton might have been hinting at that he wasn't getting.

He was reluctant to ask, but after seeing him cheerfully talk to some workers, his spirits and confidence rose.

He seems happy...or at least, he doesn't look like he'll fire me on the spot, so I minus well give it a shot….

"Hey Mr. Afton, can I ask you something?" He asked.

"Yes?" Mr. Afton answered.

"Now I don't mean to bother you...but how does making me do all this crap make me a more responsible person?"

For a moment, he saw the manager's eyes blink with unexpected surprise.

Oops…He thought probably should have said it a bit nicer...

Strangely, Afton didn't seem to be grumpy. In fact, he had an almost devious grin, like a child trying to lie to their parents.

"Yeah…about that..."

"What about it?" Emmet asked raising an eyebrow.

"...It doesn't."

Ahh...Wait…. WHAT?!

Suddenly, Emmet snapped back into reality from Afton's words.

"W-w-what?!"

"It doesn't make you a more responsible person," Afton said

"B-but you said that I needed to be here!"

"No I didn't," Afton refuted, "I just said, that it would be nice if you could help out. I never said that you had to do it,"

He was speechless. Processing what was happening.

There goes two and a half hours of my life….as well as any sort of moral advancement whatsoever…..

"But- you were gonna fire me!"

"True." Afton said rubbing his stubble under his chin. "But since you actually showed up and helped, I may reconsider my stance on you...I mean, you clearly are a responsible person, and there's defiantly something that's keeping you here aside from the pay."

Emmet sat in the plastic hair for a few seconds, his mind in utter dismay with the news.

"So...I just spent most of my evening just cleaning up this office for no reason or reward whatsoever." He said.

"Well, not entirely, my office is clean now. Certainly makes my life a lot easier..."

He sat there, still processing the events.

Hey...He thought maybe he sees me as better than before...

"And... I could still be fired?" He asked.

"Maybe, maybe not..." He said "I'll probably let you know tomorrow."

Emmet was still stunned with what he heard. Two and a half hours of work. And after all that, the only thing he got out of it was just a maybe on his possibility of being fired. There were about a hundred things that Emmet wanted to say to him, most of them cuss words that would have probably gotten him fired, but the only words that he could squeeze out were: "I feel used and abused,"

"Welcome to the real world kiddo," Mr. Afton said, stretching as he walked away from the now clean desk. "The night's still young by the way; you don't have to be here until twelve."

"I...don't?" He asked

"Nope." He said. "You've already stayed for over Two and a half hours here, no need to make you to stay here any longer than you have too."

He made a tired smile. At least he could go home and maybe mess around on his computer before he had to come back here and deal with the robots, and whatever else hid in these halls at the darkest hours of night.

"Well then, see you in the morning Mr. Afton," He said

"See you then," Mr. Afton answered.

Emmet stretched, and for a brief moment, looked over the now organized desk, imagining some sort of before and after effect like they showed for as seen on TV products until his eyes fell on a picture. More specifically, the picture with a younger Mr. Afton painting on a wall with Two and a half small children. And while Emmet couldn't deny that it was cute, it was strange. Not the picture itself, but now that the desk was empty, he couldn't find any other pictures or indication of the family in the picture anywhere. Just some bills that were nicely organized, a mug to hold pencils, another place to hold paper... yet no pictures. No notes. No crayon drawings.

Something seemed off. Emmet felt it. Although he had only known his manager for a few days and had seen him even less than those days, his work experience came from a library, several restaurants, and a single internship working at a power plant of all places, he knew that most managers, if they had a desk that they used often, usually had a few pictures of their family or their loved ones hanging around in the desk to help them through the day.

Mr. Afton basically lived on that desk, yet had nothing aside from that small, dusty picture to serve as any indication that he had a family. Nothing. Not even a slip of paper or note from his family. In fact, Emmet was sure that had he not noticed the picture, he would have assumed that the manager would have been single.

This was troubling. Surely, if he did have a family, wouldn't he have at least mentioned them, or at least had something else other than this tucked-away photo to show proof somehow?

Emmet could only look at the picture as his mind drifted away, thinking bout the odd dilemma.

This makes no sense...he would have said something...anything about them...unless...something happened to them...something he doesn't want to talk about...or remember...naw, that's crazy. Think for a minute Emmet! Maybe he's just a really personal man. I mean, I do have a friend who didn't even mention his parents divorced until he brought it up. Surely Afton's no different, right? He's just introverted. He acts like it, and seems to only talk with me when he has to. Yeah, that has to be it. And if that's the case, then I should stop thinking about this and-

"Hey Emmet, are you okay?" Mr. Afton asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Oh! Um..." Emmet stammered, abruptly coming back into reality "I'm sorry...it's just,"

"Just what?"

"Um..."

"Emmet..." He said, lowering his voice "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

"I-I-I-I-I," He stammered, scared to lie to the manager after the last time, "I know I shouldn't be looking through your stuff, but...I was organizing and I saw this picture of...you and your family I guess?"

"What picture?" He asked

"That one," he said, pointing to the picture on the desk.

Emmet stepped aside, feeling whatever sense of pride and accomplishment crash dead in its tracks. And soon, Afton had taken the picture from its spot, and was looking at it intently.

As he looked at the picture and the man looking at it, he tried to see the resemblance between the two. Although he knew they were the same man, Mr. Afton appeared to only be distantly related to the man in the picture, with only time, stress, and God-knew what else separating them.

After a few seconds of looking over his shoulder, Emmet realized what he was doing, and retreated. Mr. Afton turned around, Emmet far enough to appear that he wasn't looking over him a few moments ago.

"I….I don't want to look like some sort of creep, but I noticed it and...I was curious about it." He justified, trying to make him at least appear a little more favorable to the manager.

The manager only smirked.

"You were curious about this?" He asked.

Emmet nodded.

"Well..." Afton said "Since you seem so interested, you can obviously tell that my wife wasn't too happy finding us messing up the wall with paint. It was washable though, so it wasn't too hard to get off of the wall,"

Emmet smiled, imagining the scene playing out in his head. An angry Mrs. Afton coming home and finding her husband and children painting on a clean wall. Angry, but nonetheless touched by how he was bonding with their children.

"I can imagine that," he said pleasantly.

Then...

"Um...do you mind...can I ask what are their names are?"

"Their names?

"Yeah," He said "Just I'm just curious that's all,"

"Oh..." He said looking down at the picture "Well, the boy in the grey and black stripes is named, Henry, he's my youngest. And the girl to the right with the pigtails, that's Charlotte, she's my daughter."

They all looked as happy as any child could be in that picture, Afton included.

What a nice family. He thought "You're family sounds nice,"

Mr. Afton chuckled. "I have an older son named Mike as well," He added "But he's not in here. You know preteens, never wanting to be seen doing stuff like painting with their parents, always messing around with his friends, once again, without me or his siblings..."

"Well, from what I can see, your kids look happy with you," Emmet said

Afton smiled. "They do." He added. "They always loved playing with me. Sometimes, we would just mess around for hours. And for the most part, it didn't even feel like hours, more like minutes."

"Do you still play with them?" Emmet asked a bit more confidently, but still reluctant and careful if the manager snapped at him.

Mr. Afton looked down and set the picture aside back behind the computer monitor.

"Not as much as I'd like to," He sighed, his eyes downcast. "They're all gone and all grown up...you know, college and stuff...shame that they can't be kids forever. I'd do anything to be able to play again like we used too, even if it's just once..."

Afton trailed off from there. His face hardened, and appeared older with faint age lines becoming more defined in his face. And after spending an afternoon organizing Mr. Afton's stuff, he started to see where those hard age lines were coming from: paychecks that he received from the company (Which compared to the few pieces of personal finance that he saw, was barely covering him), the constant threats from the health department forcing him to uphold and go beyond almost every health and safety standard up to date out of fear of getting this place shut down. Emmet couldn't even imagine the stress that Afton was facing, low payments, long hours, pressure and stress from the health department, and under constant watch from the public for just one mess-up to link his company to the rest of Fazbear entertainment. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't know what it was like, or if he just didn't want to imagine that.

And that got Emmet thinking - if he was in his shoes, he would have left this place and this company. After all, what did Afton even have here? His family hardly talked with him, his business was under constant pressure from the health department and frequently threatened with shutdown due to being a part of the rather unpopular Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria, and the rewards he got were hardly worth staying here from six in the morning to late hours of night due to overtime working.

What could there be? What could Afton possibly want from this place?

Emmet didn't know. Mr. Afton had already proved to be a far more mysterious and reclusive manager than his previous managers, and it certainly didn't appear that working Fazbear's wasn't exactly making enough money to make it worth his time. In that case, why stay here?

Unless, he was here for a different reason, like him.

After all, nobody willingly choose to go to Freddy's or any store owned by Fazbear Entertainment just for kicks and giggles. This company was always hired out of desperation or money. Usually both.

Or in a rare case, people came to find something that was hiding just beneath the surface.

And if anything, Emmet realized he wasn't the only one who did this. But he was rare. And based off of what he had seen, Mr. Afton too was looking for something. After all, why would either of them be here if the pay was bad there was hardly any reward? Or if there was any reward, was it really worth the effort or survival to achieve?

Emmet resurfaced from his thoughts. Afton was still there, looking at the picture, his gaze glazed over as he could only assume that Afton too was deep in his thoughts too. He wanted to leave him, just go home. It was late, he would have to come back at some point and work again. Minus well go now, before Afton says something that makes him stay longer than he already has.

And yet...Emmet couldn't just leave him here like this. Ending on a bad note was not good for him, especially since he had worked wasted Two and a half hours of his life chopping away at a chance that he couldn't be fired.

Mr. Afton already appeared distressed, and that was the last thing he wanted Mr. Afton to be if he was considering giving him the axe.

I mean...If now's the opportunity to change Mr. Afton's mind, now's the time to do it.

He gathered himself, and started speaking.

"I...I had a younger sister that I wish I could spend more time with too. So...I kind of understand what you're going through." He said. Hopefully being able to relate to him would make him back off a little more and at least make him a little more accessible and better for him to talk to.

Afton looked up from the frame, probably coming out of his thoughts just like Emmet did, his hardened face now alive with shock.

"You do?"

"Did."

"What happened?"

"She...She went missing a long time ago."

"Oh...I'm sorry about that," Afton said.

"It's okay, it wasn't your fault," He said. "It's just that I wish I could see her too. Kind of like you with your kids."

"Guess were in the same boat, eh?" Afton said "Two men wishing they were back in the good old days?"

Emmet nodded. "I didn't think that I'd start doing that this early in my life,"

Afton chuckled, but it was empty, and sounded hollow, and more of a coping laugh than an actual one.

"But what am I saying? I don't think you're planning on staying here and sharing sad stories about the olden days till twelve, right?" Mr. Afton asked.

Emmet shook his head. "As much as I'd like to, I have a life to get too,"

"That's what I thought," Mr. Afton said, placing the photo back on the desk and slipping on a coat "Thanks for your help today Emmet. I'm very grateful and thankful for doing what you did today,"

"You're welcome," He said, realizing that this was the first time he actually heard the manager thank him for something.

Afton stood up and put his coat on. "And like I said, I may reconsider firing you for this whole videogame thing. Not a whole lot of employees that I know have stayed in this shift as long as you have. Or, at the very least, didn't like it as much as you did."

Likewise, Emmet slipped on his jacket, and after stumbling around to get the pins and needles out of his legs, he was about to lock the doors to the bathrooms.

"Wait!" Mr. Afton said "I forgot! We're still open! You don't have to lock up for tonight!"

"Oh...Thanks for catching that!" He said "Wouldn't want to be known around here as the guy that locked everybody out of the bathroom."

Mr. Afton snickered jokingly, "Would hate to have that reputation too,"

Emmet put the key away, and Mr. Afton began to walk out. And as he left the building, he couldn't help but think about the man, alone with this job, his children not even talking to him...and he had an evening all to himself, with only his wife to be with him.

Emmet felt an ugly feeling, something like guilt, but he wasn't responsible for it and realized what caused it – Mr. Afton still lost. Even though his office was clean, he would go home and have a night alone. Unless, he always spent the night alone, which was already sadder than what Emmet was imagining.

I mean...if his kids are in college, maybe he should at least talk to them. Sure, it's not the same as playing with them, but at least it's something.

"Maybe you should call them," Emmet hastily suggested. "Or...something like that...I mean, you can do that, right?"

Mr. Afton stopped walking and for a moment, he feared that he might have pushed his luck a bit too far by saying that, but Mr. Afton didn't appear to angry or too sad by what he said.

"Thanks Emmet," He said "I might just do that now that I have some time tonight,"

Emmet felt that ugly feeling go away, knowing that he at least did something to help the old man. And oddly, enough, that seemed to make those hours he spent a little more worthwhile.

He walked out of the door, and pulled out of the somewhat filled parking spot. Emmet followed quickly. And soon, he too pulled out of the parking lot, and left the small restaurant, in the early darkness of the night. After ten minutes of driving, he pulled over to a nearby hardware store and took out the wadded-up napkin, the smeared crayon making the already bad handwriting difficult to read. But nonetheless, Emmet was a man on a mission. And it would take more than just some smeared crayon-writing on a napkin to stop him.

Alright then... Emmet thought Let's get some parts for whatever Funtime Foxy and Funtime Freddy have in mind...hopefully nothing too dangerous...

End of Chapter.

(Insert some hilarious quip or relatable sentence to try and keep the readers encouraged about a possible update. Insert lame excuse about how College essays and testing really weigh down my time. Insert how I will make an effort. Insert that I will see them in the next chapter. Insert how I feel bad that I have only made thirteen chapters over the course of thirteen months. Insert another thing if my writing somehow improved due to taking a writing class for an elective. Insert final thing about how they should have a good rest of the day and a better tomorrow, if possible)