Chapter Text
He looked around him. It was quite quiet with the only sound being the wind blowing in the high grass around him. He sat up and looked around and then down at himself, realizing it had been so long he didn’t even remember what he had looked like for years. He turned his hand and saw mottled rust colored splotches and patches of muddy yellow fur. “Hmm.” He was surprised to find that he had a voice again. When was the last time he had been able to do more than just try to express his thoughts? He stood up and ambled over the river nearby and glanced over into the water tilting his head in thought. Well, yes, he had definitely seen better days. One of the long yellow ears was completely gone and the other was only barely hanging on. The face was almost completely rotted away, as well as most of the chest. Hmm. Maybe it was time for some repairs. Those kids had definitely all done some serious damage on him.
He growled deeply in thought. Those stupid stupid damn kids. Ruined everything he had ever had, had worked so hard for. Decades of work and success and those brats ripped it all away eventually. Took EVERYTHING from him. It didn’t even matter that they destroyed and probably killed him (well, if that was even possible) it was the fact that they destroyed his empire. And it all started with one clearly unexpected night. The one thing he never saw coming. No, no this wouldn’t do.
But that’s why he was here, right? To prevent that. To keep it from happening. He was no longer Wiliam Afton. He wasn’t sure if that man even had any meaning to him anymore. (Unless he could find a way to make it useful for him). They had told him that much. He was basically an extension of him at this point. There was no trace of humanity left in him now; he was a literal monster and he was going to take advantage of that however he could.
First, he needed to figure out where and when exactly he was. Did they send him back to the night before? Months? Years? The further back would be nice because that meant that he’d have more time to figure out what to do. Perhaps he could go back to the campground and kill both of the brothers? Maybe just slaughter the entire family there on scene. That was probably the main catalyst. Or did they really want to toy with him and instead he was sent post aftermath? To see how he handled his own original defeat? Either way, he would manage. He (almost) always did.
He also needed to figure out how and what he was going to do. Unfortunately he wouldn’t be doing too much wandering around in his condition. Not during the day or in public. Although it wouldn’t be much of a problem, it did have its drawbacks. For now he needed to focus on what he could control. As he turned the large head side to side scanning his surroundings he caught a hint of light moonlight glinting off of something in the distance. Ambling over he allowed a split grin to crawl across his face. Ah, yes, he knew this tunnel well. As he entered through the entrance his grin grew as for the most time in what felt like centuries, the faint metallic scent drifted around him. Pausing he glanced around him. He could hear the distant scurrying of rats around him far up ahead soft splashes and drips echoing throughout. The smell grew around him. Rotting corpses, old and fresh blood, could one even smell fear? Oh yes.
He was back.
The Devil had returned to take back what all was his and rip apart anyone who got in his way.