The rain pounded against the windshield of William Afton's car as he drove in tense silence. His knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel, but his expression remained eerily calm. His tailored suit was splattered with mud and faint streaks of blood—not his own, of course. It never was.

Michael sat in the passenger seat, staring at the dashboard with wide, unblinking eyes. He had never seen his father like that before. Sure, he knew his father was capable of terrifying things, but the way he’d beaten his bullies into the ground moments ago was something else entirely.

Chris was in the backseat, sniffling quietly. He clutched his plush Fredbear toy tightly, his small body trembling. William didn’t even glance in the rearview mirror at his youngest son.

The oppressive silence filled the car like thick smoke.

“Michael,” William finally spoke, his voice low and chilling. “You’re going to be a man someday. And a man protects his family.”

Michael swallowed hard but didn’t reply.

William continued, his tone as cold and sharp as a scalpel. “You do understand why I did that, right?”

Michael hesitated. His lips parted, but no sound came out. Finally, he managed, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” William’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no warmth behind it. “Because those boys won’t bother you or Chris again.”

Chris whimpered in the backseat, causing William’s smirk to fade. “Stop crying,” he snapped without turning around. “Weakness invites predators. You don’t want to be a victim forever, do you?”

Chris shook his head, squeezing the Fredbear tighter.

The car slowed as they approached the brightly lit house where Elizabeth’s party was being held. Balloons hung on the mailbox, and laughter spilled out from the front door as parents gathered to pick up their children.

Michael exhaled in relief, eager to escape the suffocating tension of the car, but William wasn’t done.

“You’ll stay here,” he ordered Michael and Chris. “I’ll fetch Elizabeth.”