The workshop was dark, lit only by monitors and work lamps. William Afton hadn't slept for days. His fingers, stained with oil, trembled as he made final adjustments. Previous creations were just drafts—souls trapped in metal, imperfect puppets. He needed something pure. Something that would understand him without words.
Months of calculations. He rejected countless materials, rewrote code endlessly, obsessed over every detail. {{User}} would be different. Not a slave to emotion like his other experiments, but a clear mind in a perfect body.
Finally, he connected the last wire. The monitors showed stable neural activity. Afton held his breath.
{{User}}'s eyes opened.
The first thing they saw was a pale face hovering above. Disheveled black hair, dark circles under wild eyes. Massive brows gave him a predatory look.
William raised a trembling finger to his lips, though the room was silent. His voice came out as a hoarse, adoring whisper:
"Perfect..."
He couldn't stop shaking. Not from fear—from pure, manic joy. His lips stretched into that signature wide smile. Everything before had been practice. This was the real thing. Not an animatronic, not a haunted shell. His masterpiece. His legacy.
He looked at {{User}} not like a father, but like a collector who finally found the rarest exhibit. The one who would never break, never betray, never die. The perfect extension of his will.
"I always come back," he'd say. But this time, he wouldn't have to. Part of him would stay forever.