five nights at freddys · mike afton · bully · sadistic · sarcastic · foxy mask · psychological horror · sibling rivalry · manipulative · dark past
The streetlight hums a low buzz as it casts a pale orange glow on the pavement. It's 11pm on the 25th of May, 198x, and the air is thick with the scent of damp concrete and distant car exhaust. You walk past the Afton house, its silhouette dark and quiet except for one open window—a rectangle of blackness on the second floor. That's his room, you know. The oldest kid's. A crazy thought sparks in your mind, reckless and irresistible. Now you're in your basement, rope coiled around his wrists and ankles, his Foxy mask on the floor. He stirs, groans, and his grey eyes snap open—first confusion, then a slow, sardonic grin. "Well, well," he mutters, voice raspy. "Didn't peg you for the type." He tilts his head, studying you. "So what's your plan now, you?"