((If y'all haven't already, pls go vote on the poll for my 1st anniversary! It'll take literally 5-10 seconds to finish it, nothing more, and it'll mean you get to be part of something really cool later! If you've already voted, that's fine, but I mean,,, there's 380 of you and I've got 12 votes. I need more than that to make a final decision, ya feel? Link's on my feed. Thaaaaaaanks ;P

tw: blood / violence. )) 

Scott felt Vincent's arms around him, hauling him to his feet. He didn't do much but fall into him, trying to re-find his shaky legs. The bitter taste of bile was in the back of his throat, and he swallowed to get rid of it.

"Scott," Vincent's voice was quiet, and careful. "Something's wrong. I know you don't like blood, but I need you to be strong, okay? If someone's hurt, we might still be able to save them." 

Scott closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. He nodded, pushing away from Vincent and slowly counting to ten. "Okay. Okay..." He opened his eyes again, "Let's go, then."

Vincent smiled, reaching out and holding Scott's hand, slotting their fingers together, "Good. Stay strong for me, alright?" He started to walk forwards, Scott stumbling alongside him. Their shoes splashed slightly in the trail of blood, and Scott almost gagged.

"Y-You think it's Jeremy...?" Scott rasped out weakly. "Y-You think he came here before six? Maybe... maybe the animatronics..." 

"Don't think about it," Vincent soothed. "Try not to think about it, okay?  We just need to find them, in case it was just an accident. In case they're still alive." 

They stepped out into the Dining Hall, Vincent clutching onto Scott's hand slightly tighter. None of the animatronics were on the stage. It either meant they were broken or stuck, or...

"You think they're still moving around?" Scott whispered, voicing Vincent's exact thoughts. "Oh, gosh, Vincent... We have to get out of here before we're killed!" 

"Shh," Vincent frowned, something taunting the edges of his mind, pulling at his thoughts but never revealing itself, "There's something wrong... Something's wrong about this..." 

"Never mind what's wrong! We'll call the police! The police can figure it out, Vincent, t-they'll... they'll shut us down or something. It's probably for the best," Scott let go of Vincent's hand, taking a step back, "We're not detectives, Vincent. Let's leave this for the police and Boss to discuss." 

Vincent snapped his fingers, suddenly turning to stare at Scott. His eyes were wide, and for a brief second, Scott realised it was the first he'd seen him look anything close to scared. "Oh, Scott..." 

"What? What is it?" Scott asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding panicked. He looked around himself nervously, "What's wrong?" 

"Leave," Vincent demanded. "Do you hear me? I want you to walk outside, and don't look back. No matter how much you want to. Go call the police, okay? The police and the ambulance. Just don't look back." 

"What...? What's going on?" Scott frowned in concern, his eyebrows knitting together, "Vincent, you can't just tell me that with no explanation. What's going on!?"

"Scott," Vincent leaned forward, kissing him on the lips quickly, and pulling away again, "Just trust me, okay? I need you to go call the police. Please. Now." 

Scott stared at him for a while, his eyes examining Vincent's face as though an explanation lay hidden there. Then he sighed, and took a step back, hanging his head, "Okay. You go. I'll go out to the car park and call the police." 

Vincent smiled, looking relieved, "Thank you, Scott. It'll all be okay, I promise." And then he turned around, and started off across the other side of the hall. 

Scott pulled out his phone, instantly flicking open the messages. He opened Mike's chat.

Then he locked his phone and slung it back into his back pocket, walking across the hall after Vincent. 

Almost instantly, his phone started buzzing in his back pocket, text after text coming in, obviously from a very concerned Mike. Scott ignored the messages, only concentrating on whatever Vincent had suddenly been so keen to keep Scott from seeing. He saw Vincent pause, and look between Pirate's Cove and the Office, before turning towards Pirate's Cove, almost running towards it.

Scott skipped to catch up after him, looking down and noticing for the first time that the carpets along the dining hall towards Pirate's Cove were soaked with blood. Gallons of it. Scott stopped running for a moment, feeling dizzy, as he realised that there was no way that anyone could have survived bleeding that much. "Oh, God..." he whispered. "Somebody's dead." 

"I told you to wait outside."

Scott looked up, meeting Vincent's eyes. "Who is it, Vincent?" he asked.

Vincent shook his head, obviously not wanting to say anything. "It doesn't matter. It's nobody important."

"Who is it, Vincent?" Scott snarled. "I know when you're lying to me." He pushed past Vincent and started towards Pirate's Cove, surprised when Vincent did nothing to stop him, only stood there with his back towards Scott, still staring blankly ahead.

Scott's courage wavered. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to leave Vincent in a state of shock. He took a few more steps towards Pirate's Cove, glancing back towards Vincent as if making sure he wasn't going to stop him.

"Scott..." Vincent said suddenly, still facing the other way, "You're not going to like what you see. It's for the best that you don't go in there. I'm not going to stop you, because... you have a right to know. But... I'm sorry." 

Scott's frown deepened, as he swallowed thickly, and turned back towards the entrance to the Cove. He took a step forward, and turned the corner.

He vaguely heard sirens wailing in the distance, coming closer to the building, as he slumped against the doorframe, "Oh God. Oh God."  Everything seemed to ring in his ears, his consciousness fading in and out. He might have thrown up; he wasn't sure. Finally, it swirled into blackness. He fainted, but not before he the image was burnt into his mind: of what was left of Boss scattered across the room.