#{ so when cassidy sees old man consequences in ucn; it's still andrew }

[curseofbreadbear]

[Afton didn't take the fishing rod he was offered, but that was of little importance to Andrew. It was more of a courtesy gesture than anything else; in the end, William would realize that nothing else awaited him beyond the inescapable void. There was only this: a lake, fish, Andrew, and now Afton. Instead of "erasing" the rod, Andrew set it on the newly-formed stump beside him. It was there if William was willing to ease into his new "afterlife."]

[William looked around apprehensively, almost fearful of his surroundings; this was likely a calmer demise than he was used to. In his former reality, before being sucked into this vacuum, Andrew had overseen many of William's deaths -- first the springlocks, then several fires. During one such occasion, when William was at his weakest, Andrew had taken advantage of the monster's sorry state to torment him, sending a flurry of nightmares and horror into his head. Eventually, that ended, as all things did...William was freed, and Andrew had unknowingly been trapped with him in his next vessel.]

[But that was a long time ago -- it was no use concerning himself with trite details from his previous "life." This was all he had now. William had joined him, but he no longer planned on torturing him -- perhaps if Andrew was capable of change, then Afton was, too. He could hope, anyway.]

[Afton stood stubbornly, crossing his arms, as though his behavior might intimidate Andrew. It didn't. The man insisted that there had to be somewhere else, some sort of escape, and a hoarse chuckle escaped Andrew. It wasn't malicious, like it would have been years ago; he was simply amused by the man's desperation. Afton demanded to know where he was, what this place was, and Andrew was happy to answer.]

❝ This is a void, Afton. If you've wound up here, then you've surely made mistakes. Arrogant, stubborn, and perhaps even curious ones. You've gone too far...and it's time to face the consequences. ❞ [Andrew side-eyed the man, then returned his focus to fishing; he reeled in his line, plucked a fish from his hook, then threw it back into the lake and recast his line. He was painfully patient as he explained himself and their surroundings, in a way that was sure to frustrate William even more.] ❝ As I said before, you're free to try to escape, but I'd like to save you the effort. There is no way out. ❞

AS A BOY, WILLIAM HAD LEARNED TO FISH IN THE POND BEHIND HIS PARENTS’ HOUSE. His father had taught him - one of the only activities they’d bonded over - and yet the moment he’d left the country he had wiped all memory of those days from his mind. The past is the past, his father is unimportant now. William had grown: deliberated over teaching his own children how to fish, and ultimately decided against it. The past is the past. Fishing is unimportant now.

AND SO IT’S THE FIRST THING THAT BOTHERS HIM, in this strange new place with nothing but an old man, a lake, and rods to fish with. Doesn’t this man know who he is, what important work he has to get back to? Admittedly, it’s been a while since he’d thought about work: can’t remember the last time he’s been sane enough to do so. Or human. And yet the stranger does know: calls him by name, like he’s an old acquaintance. Somehow, this is more frightening.

William (even that name doesn’t feel right) does not take the fishing rod, but looks around him in a new unsettled light. There is something about this place that feels far more permanent than any of the other deaths he’s experienced: painless, for one. He’s grown to appreciate the pain of death by now — it’s a sign that he can crawl back, after all, like he’s supposed to — so the lack of it now makes him uneasy.

There’s nowhere else to go. The stranger is right. William Afton is stuck, with a man who (he believes) clearly has all the power over this place, and he has no idea what comes next. That doesn’t stop him from pursing his lips, crossing his arms, refusing to move from his position beside the man. Standing gives him confidence, command, control over this conversation: and if he’s ever going to get out of here, he’s going to need all of the control he can get.

“There’s always somewhere else to go.” Even in death he’s arrogant, though there’s a hoarse edge to his voice even he doesn’t recognise. “What the fuck is this place? It’s too…” (Trails off. It’s too peaceful. It’s too quiet. The sound of crackling flames and beeping machines is the last thing he remembers.) “Where am I?” (Where are we?)