(( can this chapter just be 'exotic butters' written 1000 times? no? FINE.

Fun Fact: Exotic Butters now has a Know Your Meme page and Andy Field (the voice behind Handy-- the Exotic Butters man) commented on it. ))

"Who's Eggs Benedict?" Vincent asked, his shoes clanking on the dull metal floor of the elevator as he stepped inside.

"Why, you're Eggs Benedict!" the elevator chimed in happily. "You do remember whooooo y-you are, right? If not, I assume you've suffered some memory damage. Here at Circus Baby's Pizza World, we're all about employee safety! If y-y-y-you can remember which animatronic caused you this grievous physical damage, we'll be sure to check it out!"

Vincent turned to Scott, his eyebrows raised. Grievous physical damage? he mouthed.

Scott shrugged, and then looked up towards the ceiling, "Don't worry about it, Handy. Just take us-me down to the circus gallery."

"That's the spirit!" Handy chirped, and the elevator doors slid closed. "Now that you're firmly secured in the lift, I should let you know that due to your eight year eleven month absence from work, you will be forced to pay back the equivalent of all the wages you should have earned. We understand that this may put you in a difficult situation financially, and in light of that, we've decided to give you a ten dollar and fifty cent raise! Congratulations, Eggs."

"This is making me sick," Vincent muttered under his breath.

Scott chuckled at Vincent and then looked back up towards the speaker. "Hey, Handy?" he asked, "What do you know about the current condition and location of the animatronics?"

"Oh, am I glad you asked, Eggs," Handy chattered, "That shows real initiative towards your job here as technician at Circus Baby's Pizza World! Well done."

"Uhhh..." Scott swallowed, "Well, thanks, but can you tell me the condition of the animatronics? Actually, even if you could just tell me if all the vents are closed?"

"Sure thing, sport!" Handy hummed, and promptly went quiet.

"That's very reassuring," Vincent mumbled.

"It's my job to console and reassure, especially in the event of depression, suicidal thoughts or even death." Handy informed Vincent happily.

"Oh my gosh, it's like Freddy Fazbear's gone horribly wrong," Vincent shook his head. "We're going to die."

"Now, Eggs, don't think like that! We have a very good hospital service on standby for just the slight possibility that an animatronic may become hostile."

"How many people have the animatronics murdered?" Vincent asked, walking over to the side of the lift and pulling off a flyer that had Baby painted down the side. "How many children have died from just looking at this thing?"

"I'm sorry," Handy's tone never changed from annoyingly optimistic, "I seem to have trouble hearing all of a sudden! I will now switch off in an attempt to fix the problem. Please don't ask any more questions."

Vincent turned and looked at Scott, one hand on his hip, his eyebrow arching.

"Well, what's that look for?" Scott asked, leaning back against the cool polished metal of the elevator, "It's almost like you're mad that I brought you to this slaughterhouse without telling you there's an 80% possibility that we'll both die."

Vincent just stared at him for a while, looking very unimpressed, and then sighed, letting his hand slide off his hip and turning back towards the doors of the elevator. "Til death do us part," he mused sourly.

"That's the spirit," Scott grinned, as the elevator finally came to a shuddering halt.

Scott skipped over to the front of the lift and pressed in the bright red button. The doors slid open and revealed metres of "DO NOT CROSS" tape strung over a vent entrance.

"This is looking better and better as time goes on," groused Vincent.

"You're so pessimistic," Scott started pulling at the tape, ripping it off the cover of the vent. He threw it on the floor beside them and dusted his hands off. "Now, guests first." He gestured to Vincent and then at the vent.

"If there's a dead body in here I'm breaking up with you," Vincent glared once at Scott, and then ducked his head and began to climb into the vent.

Scott waited until there was just his torso, then just his legs, just his calves, just his ankles and then just the tips of his shoes. Clunking echoed down the vent, and Scott knew that they would have heard it by now. They would know.

Scott took a deep breath and hoped to God above that the control room was still sealed off. Still safe. Still... empty. Then he, also, dropped to his knees and shimmied into the vent.

Motion Trigger Activated: Main Control Room Vent.

Scott let out a deep breath. The voice had been loud in his ear and for a terrifying half-second he'd thought it was an animatronic behind him. He could hear Vincent in front of him, probably nearing the end of the vent.

"How long is it?" he called out, his own voice sounding oddly muffled as it drowned in the sound of metal banging under their weight.

"I think I can see the end," Vincent called back, his voice, too sounding distant and faint. There was the sound of a metal flap opening, "Yeah! This is the end!"

Thank goodness. It smells like old sweat in here. "Okay," Scott called out, deciding to close his eyes and shuffle a little faster. In no time, he'd reached the end - of course, he only found that out when he hit his head on the metal flap at the end of the vent with a muted 'thump' and a yelped swear word.

As though the curse was a secret word, the flap opened, and Vincent peered at him, looking amused. "You, uh, alright there? You don't usually open metal doors with your head, Scott."

"Very funny," Scott muttered unhappily, one arm reaching up to rub at his scalp. He wiggled around awkwardly in the tight spot, somehow ending up tumbling out of the vent arms first and rolling into the control room.

Vincent laughed at the sight, Scott a ball of tangled limbs that groaned and slowly began to unwind itself from the floor.

"Are you gonna laugh all night or come and help me up?" Scott complained, grabbing onto one of the elevated control pads to pull himself onto his knees.

Vincent walked over, still chuckling, and slid his hands under Scott's arms, heaving him to his feet with a sudden strength that was both a little odd... and, okay... a little sexy? With a strength like that, Vincent could easily throw him down on the bed an-

C'mon, Scott, now is not the time, he reminded himself, and stilled the tiny little flutters in his stomach. He pushed Vincent away, glad for the low lighting that meant he wouldn't be able to see his blush. "Alright. Here we are. What do you think?"

Vincent hummed. He looked around, and then sniffed. "Is it just me, or... do you smell... old butter?"

"Yeah... It's... a long story," Scott tipped his head, "Eggs was a weird guy, Vincent. I should know, I had a terrible crush on him for the better half of a year."

"You-You what?" Vincent gasped.

"In my defence, he was really cute," Scott mumbled, turning away from Vincent and pressing the blue button on the top of the keypad. The light shone through the murky green glass and showed an empty stage. "I thought as much... Well, we better keep going. I don't wanna stay in this place any longer than necessary."

"No- No, you can't just change the subject like that. You were closeted eight years ago, right? Nineteen years old? So how come you can admit you had a crush on him? You never crushed on me," Vincent scowled.

Scott stared at him for a moment, and then barked a laugh, "I can not believe this. I can't believe this. You're jealous of a guy called Eggs?"

"I'm not jealous!" Vincent growled. "He was probably a low-life, anyway. Eggs probably wasn't even his real name."

"Nice job for figuring that one out," Scott said. "I didn't actually know his real name. He was too scared of the guy that owned this place to ask him to correct it. Just kept answering to 'Benedict'. This place did horrors to him, though. I'm pretty sure the poor guy ended up in therapy. Kept talking about seeing people hanging themselves from the stage and scooping rooms and about the animatronics talking to him. He used to say that one of the animatronics saved his life several times. He said it was Baby, though he never actually saw her talking to him. I guess... that's why we're here."

"Let me get this straight. We're here because your hormone-driven teen crush rambled about animatronics he couldn't see talking to him," Vincent summarised. "Oh my God, we're going to die."

Scott shrugged, and then walked over to the other side of the room. He ducked down on his hands and knees and pushed open another vent flap. "I'm pretty sure this leads to Baby's room. Oh, hey, look..." Scott reached one hand in and closed his fingers around something that made a sickening squelch sound.

He pulled out the stick of half-melted, mouldy old butter, "I think I found the source of that buttery smell."

(( I lowkey ship Scott and Eggs.

I WANT THIS CHAPTER TO BE A HUGE MEME. I WANT EVERYONE TO REPLY TO ONE COMMENT THAT JUST SAYS 'EXOTIC BUTTERS' AND JUST CONTINUE THE CHAIN FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN (without spamming it over and over - you can't comment twice in a row). YOU CAN WRITE IT ANY WAY YOU LIKE BUT IT HAS TO JUST SAY EXOTIC BUTTERS.

IF IT GETS TO 50 COMMENTS I'LL LEGITIMATELY DYE MY HAIR PURPLE AND UPLOAD PHOTO PROOF. I SWEAR ON MY ACCOUNT. ))