Something Purple This Way Comes.
Outside was beautiful in a wicked sort of way.
Evening had just commenced and so the sun embarked on its journey unto the horizon, while fiery colors chased after it in a melted disarray.
This real world, capable of such beauty and yet so much horror was quickly drawing back the veil of black that had enveloped you just moments ago.
It felt like you had never been unconscious.
You'd fainted, and you had dreamed, but it was so brief you barely remembered any of it.
The experience was more akin to that of blinking slowly, over and over, to find the scene before you had changed every time you reopened your eyes.
Like pictures in a slide show with scenery you could physically touch.
Your final descent into the waking world was rocky, and you almost wished you could just go back to sleep forever.
Your head felt like an anchor pulling at the tendons in your neck, and your body was shuddering as random hiccups of energy coursed through it, desperately trying to revive you.
Wake up.
Wake up!
You were outside the restaurant, and you were slung over a shoulder.
A turn of the head, and a collision with a red telephone soon made it apparent who was carrying you.
Scott was breathing heavily, walking straight and yet drunkenly as if he'd just staggered away with his life barely in tow.
He paused momentarily to secure you in his grasp, bouncing you into a higher arch while his hands clung beneath your backside.
The sudden jolt sent you gasping, and before you knew it you were sprawling in his arms.
Scott hesitated before withdrawing you, catching a short look at your shell-shocked eyes before you went on squirming harder than before.
You said nothing, but your actions made it apparent what you wanted. Eventually he was forced to drop you to your feet.
Once on the ground, you caught your footing right away.
You looked around frantically and took note of your surroundings, turning your body in feverish circles like you were trying to see the Hide-Behind via Lazy Susan style.
'What's going on?'
You wanted to ask, but for some reason you couldn't put your thoughts to words, not yet anyway.
Everything you saw was met with delay, and even a little blurring.
What you could make out were tons of people grouped together, mostly adults wearing either solemn or terrified expressions, while children resided lower and in smaller quantities.
They were traumatized, weakly pawing at their parents' kneecaps, faces red and stained by glossy tear streaks.
They begged to go home...cried out when their mother or father didn't acknowledge them right away, instead owing their attention to the sight in front of them.
And then you realized there were sirens.
Police cars had collected in the parking lot like someone had turned over a jar full of them, ignoring the painted lines and instead grouping around Freddy Fazbear's in a crooked, discombobulated fashion.
Boss was standing near the entrance, speaking with an officer the same way he had the day Vincent attacked Andrew.
However, there was something much different about him this time.
It might have been the way his eyes were bulging, deadpanning through the crowd as if something were possessing him; it was almost like he expected to find a reaper there, watching on and chortling, happy to have paid him yet another visit.
Gone was the professional front.
He was not the head of an establishment anymore.
He was just a man, torn mentally and emotionally by what had just happened within his own restaurant.
An ambulance was stationed by the building, while paramedics hurriedly pushed a cot toward the back doors. Again, very much like that one time with Andrew.
Yet something was still different. Today, the atmosphere was...cold?
You couldn't make out what figure lay atop the cot, and so you wandered closer to the large, cubical vehicle.
You paid no attention to the fact that you were within caution tapes and might have been violating a crime scene.
You paid no attention to the cops shouting your way, ordering you to get back on the other side of the lines. Even Scott's pleas were completely lost on you.
You barely registered them at all.
You came to a halt on the concrete, leaned forward and angled yourself so that you could peer closely at the body before it was wheeled away forever.
There you found a white sheet masking a humanoid figure.
Red was spotting at the front of the head and branching outward along the fabric like expanding capillaries.
It wasn't moving.
He wasn't moving.
One of the paramedics went to help hoist the cot into the back of the truck. Before doing so, he handed Jeremy's security guard hat to a nearby officer.
It was in shreds, disintegrating in his hands.
The fabric was completely soaked with blood.
Your stomach twisted violently, and you couldn't help it when your hands flew up over you mouth in horror, before moving them up and down over your eyes.
You found yourself suddenly stumbling backwards into the arms of an all-to familiar coworker.
"(Y/N),"
Scott said, his voice fatherly as he turned you to face him before taking you by the creases of your elbows.
You found it hard to look directly at him.
He bent so that your heads were level.
"It's okay,"
He said quietly, his hand traveling softly up and down your sleeve to comfort you.
"It'll be okay."
You knew he was only trying to help, but his reassurances seemed so hollow it just made you sick all over again.
"No..."
You whispered harshly before strengthening your words into that of an exclamation,
"No, it is not okay!"
"(Y/N)..."
Scott was now pulling you weakly on an unmarked path, releasing one of your arms so he could yank up the yellow tape before guiding you underneath it.
He was pulling you farther from the restaurant, farther into safety.
As soon as your were far enough away, you ripped yourself from him.
Your fury quickly eradicated any room for terror.
"It's not okay, Scott!"
You repeated, only to earn a hush from him.
It infuriated you.
Scott looked around at the lingering customers, fearing their judgement before urging you to quiet down again.
"(Y/N), please. You have to keep your voice low. You're going to scare people even more."
"I don't care!"
You looked at him with pleading, wet eyes, begging him to understand.
This was your fault.
Maybe not entirely, but you had a play in his fate.
Shamefully, you looked away from him, tears threatening to spill.
"I'm sorry, I know that I must look like a weak cry-baby, but I can't help but think that I was partially responsible for his death. There are so many things I could have done to keep this from happening Scott! I could have stopped that ladder from tipping over and making that kid scream, I could have reached that fire alarm faster, I could have gotten Jeremy out of the way, I could have stopped the Mangle sooner, HECK, I could've just kept my friken mouth shut-"
"(Y/N)!"
You looked back up at Scott to see that he was kneeling down to you, hands on your shoulders, his face serious but gentle.
"(Y/N), I was there too remember? And believe me when I tell you there's nothing we could have done. Fate had plans for Jeremy and other plans for us today. I know that what happened to Jeremy is simply terrible, but that's just the way life works, whether we like it or not. I know it's sad, and I know you're hurting but please, you aren't going to make anything better if you blame yourself. This isn't what he would want us to think. You are not the reason why Jeremy is dead. It was an ascendant. No one is to blame. We didn't know him very well or for very long, but he's made an impact on us. (Y/N), we may have lost a friend today, but whatever happens, we won't forget him or the impact he's made in our lives. But for now, let's just take the time to grieve for our friend."
By the time Scott finished speaking, you had stopped sobbing till there was only small drops leaving your eyes, as you stared at him with awe and surprise.
His words were so beautiful, and they stung you right in the heart.
Letting out a large breath you didn't even know your were holding, you nodded to him respectfully, before hugging him tight, smiling as you did so.
"Thank you Scott, that really helped me see the truth. And you're right, we can't focus on the past any more, we can only do what we can in the present, so that we can make a better outcome for ourselves in the future."
The telephone-headed security guard paused before finally emitting a relieved sigh and relaxed into the hug.
You'd kept it in for so long, and now you finally felt you could weep.
So you did. Hard.
There was nothing more for him to do, other than try his best to comfort you, as well as shadow you away from the calculative eyes of the crowd.
Right now, everyone was watching, but neither of you cared.
Scott was convinced that you had calmed down and were oblivious to it, given your current behavior.
But you knew.
What you knew even more was that, deep down inside, you were still furious.
You had every right to be upset, even if it was at the expense of others' comfort.
What just happened...what had happened inside that restaurant...
It was murder.
It was happening all over again.
History was repeating, except this time you had been present for it.
You knew after today you'd likely no longer be working at the restaurant.
You knew after today you may be unemployed just the same as Vincent.
But, for the most part, that was okay with you.
Something was wrong with this place, and you were so much better off without it.
That didn't stop you from wondering; why?
Or how, for that matter.
An animatronic had killed a completely harmless person.
This was not a minor-major malfunction like you had predicted, this was not caused by a few tangled wires.
There was evil lying beneath the woodwork, and you had to wonder how it had ever been provoked in the first place.
What did Jeremy do wrong to bring on the wrath of these demons?
How could they ever be stopped?
Was there someone behind this?
A mastermind pulling the strings?
Were they even human?
What's worse was the mascots were still in there.
Shut down, stowed away backstage. Undoubtedly still wearing the ruin of Jeremy's blood.
You stared hard at the pavement, now parted with Scott so you could think. He was still beside you, but he was no longer in contact with you as he too, stared off into space.
Your world was flipped.
You felt like you were having a long, drawn out nightmare.
You wished terribly for that to be the case.
You'd have loved to wake up and start the day again, arrive at the restaurant and see everyone's smiling faces.
They would be safe.
They would be alive.
You were concentrating so hard that you hadn't noticed another car pulling onto the scene just as the ambulance was sent away.
The red and blue lights molded together to become a single violet entity before fading into the pinprick of road far out in the distance.
You watched on silently.
Everyone around you was finally moving now that the body was gone. Some made beelines to their cars, some gravitated toward the tapes in hopes that they could eavesdrop just a while longer, and some stood swaying in place, phoning loved ones or simply glaring at the aftermath.
You noticed, albeit barely, that a few were turned your way, but they weren't looking at you.
Rather, they were looking over your shoulder at something past you.
Something...no.
Someone.
And then two hands landed on your shoulders.
Your eyes widened.
You felt long fingers press into your skin, clinging with great fondness, and yet still in a way that suggested uncertainty.
You knew this aura.
This person was not a stranger.
"(Y/N), what happened here."
That low voice was unmistakable.
The tone was a bit unusual, however.
His question was devoid of emotion.
He expressed himself more just by simply holding onto you.
You spun around and backed up out of his grasp, noting the flash of purple before you hissed.
"What are you doing here?!"
You seethed, trying to sound furious.
Vincent simply stared at you as you wiped away your tears, apparently deciding to ignore your question.
How long he'd been there, how he could've known to come in the first place was all of great irrelevance to you.
He was there now.
That's all that mattered.
You couldn't have possibly wanted anything less.
"H-He's dead..."
You then choked out, your voice lowered with grief.
He narrowed his eyes suddenly.
"What did you say?"
Vincent took a step toward you before Scott suddenly stepped between you two.
"She said: Jeremy's dead."
You didn't know why, but you had a feeling that something about Scott was off.
His posture was rigid, his arms firmly placed at his side while he glared down at Vincent.
He was unreadable, but whatever it was suggesting, it raised some confusion in you.
He was being protective.
Of you.
You were grateful for his dedication, but you still couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into him all of a sudden.
Vincent's eyes were large, vacant, and gave no indication of what he was feeling or thinking.
You couldn't tell if he was shocked, or if he didn't believe him.
As less tears accumulated, you squinted at him sadly but also now aggressively, sending the last ones down your face.
He kept quiet before finally speaking up.
"My my...it really is a shame what happened, isn't it?"
Vincent stated.
His voice was almost too casual to be considered appropriate.
"I take it you're all very upset about this. It must've been so hard to watch. Such a devastation."
Scott audibly swallowed, but before he could get a word in, Vincent continued without missing a beat.
"Just remember that no one was at fault here. You were all powerless to stop it, so blaming yourselves won't fix anything. It was an accident."
Something about his speech struck you as insulting.
It defiantly didn't sound nearly as reassuring as when Scott said it.
If fact, to you it almost sounded sarcastic, and that made you boil inside.
Even if he did mean what he was saying, it sounded as if he wasn't absolutely convinced of it himself.
"I don't believe you."
You suddenly blurted out without thinking.
You had completely stopped crying now, and you had your arms crossed in irritation, lips pressed into a straight line and a disbelieved look on your face.
The purple man rose his brows at you. He didn't understand at all what you meant.
You just stared on at him, sharing the silence with Scott.
Vincent looked between both of you, belting out a half-hearted chuckle when he saw how intense your expressions were.
"What is it you're suggesting then?"
Vincent asked, focusing on you now, and reacting as if you were as crazy as the rest of them.
"Do you think the animatronics are alive or something?"
"Now hold on. How did you know an animatronic was behind all this?"
His stance hadn't shifted, even when his voice wavered out from the machine atop his shoulders.
You turned to him, eyes widened at what Scott said and stifled a gasp.
You had said not a single word about how Jeremy had died.
So then how did he...
You lolled your head toward Vincent, who still hadn't spoken a word against the accusation.
"I'm being serious here,"
Scott spoke up again, speaking before Vincent wasted his time with inquiries.
"Has news already spread that fast? It hasn't even been half an hour. You had to have already been out of your house to arrive this quickly. And that's assuming you somehow knew."
"Well no, I've heard... nothing... actually,"
Vincent defended himself quickly before Scott could attack him with any rudimentary accusation.
If anyone else outside your circle of workers even existed, it wasn't made obvious to you.
You could only imagine that someone, if not everyone, was watching you all intently now.
...if there was anyone else still here that is.
"I was running errands when the ambulance flew past me. I followed it. I just had a feeling something was wrong."
Your eyebrows lifted, you mouth slightly agape.
'That doesn't even make sense.'
"That doesn't answer my question."
Scott said.
Vincent laughed again at him out of light ridicule.
"Scottie, I remember just as well as anyone what happened last time an animatronic acted out,"
He said, his eyes meeting yours for all of one second,
"I'm just connecting the dots with what little context I have."
Scott finally moved out of his stasis, but it came so quickly, neither of you had been prepared for it.
He stomped over to Vincent, forcing him to back up a bit from you, and suddenly you anticipated him actually punching his former coworker right where his nose would be.
But why?
Why was Scott so outraged by him?
Scott refrained from so much as laying a finger on the man in purple, much to your relief.
Hey, more blood didn't need to be spilled today.
He stopped a few inches short before the two could collide and become a mess of colors and plastic.
Vincent didn't even flinch.
His features dipped lowly, his brows arching with concentrated annoyance.
You almost couldn't believe your eyes, but you noticed a glint of a smile forming along his mouth.
For Scott this only brought about more of his malice.
"Jeremy's brain was ripped clean out of his skull by the fox from Kid's Cove. There was no warning of it. Jeremy hadn't overstepped any boundaries whatsoever. It just happened."
"My, that sounds unfortunate,"
Vincent said.
His tone instantly rubbed you, and apparently Scott, very wrong.
"Yeah,"
Scott's head fell,
"It is unfortunate, but not because it happened out of sheer coincidence."
"Oh!"
Vincent was now clearly amused, which juxtaposed the tone of the backdrop you all shared.
"So what you're saying is it was an organized crime? You've already solved the mystery?"
"As someone who had to watch the whole thing happen up close, I think I hold some credentials."
This time, Vincent held his tongue before releasing anymore snark.
You watched their interaction carefully, refusing to get involved just yet.
You had to know where Scott was going with this.
He answered your curiosities instantly.
"Someone screamed in the Dining Hall. It was within the animatronics' earshot."
"Yeah?"
Vincent asked, cocking a brow.
"They heard a person in distress, and they reacted to it by targeting what I can only assume they thought was the aggressor."
"Ah, just like with her."
Vincent's eyes darted to you, his smile faltering.
"They heard her cry out, and then they went after her. So something like that happened again, right?"
But Scott grappled his attention again and pulled it into a merciless headlock.
You smiled at the analogy.
"Yes. It was just like with her. But those animatronics were designed in the very beginning to alert someone of higher authority when someone else is in turmoil like that. It's why the security systems were installed in the first place. To brutally kill someone would mean that either someone tinkered with them in a way beyond my comprehension, or they really do have a way of feeling that level of hatred."
"Robots are magical now, huh? And can feel emotion?"
Vincent chewed his lip while teasing. "So why Jeremy then? Why would they hate him, assuming that's what's going on here? You have an idea, smartypants?"
And then, Scott suddenly averted his head in your direction.
It caught you off guard, your eyes widening at the sudden action.
"Jeremy was standing underneath a spotlight when it happened."
The weight of his sentence hit you full-force.
You stared at Scott with wide eyes and jaw dropped, taking in everything he had previously said.
"The spotlight..."
You started after what felt like a lifetime of silence.
"Jeremy had been working on fixing a colored spotlight... And the color... *gulp* the color of it was-"
But before you could finish, Vincent loudly guffawed, stepped away from the both of you.
"Okay, okay. It was funny at first, but now you're not making sense anymore,"
He spat hastily.
Before you had a chance to retort, Vincent walked away toward his car, far away from the likes of you guys.
That cowardly Snake-Weasel!
When Vincent had fully left, you turned back to Scott, eyes wide with shock.
"Scott... Are you really saying what I think you're saying? That... That he-"
"Let's not talk about it right now,"
He suddenly interrupted, casting you a sideways glance from his position of watching Vincent disappear.
"He's not important right now. What's important is that we go home to our families and spend time with them."
You were about to widely protest; What Scott just discovered was huge and needed to be exposed to the world! (Well maybe not the world but you know what you meant).
But then you reflected on what Scott told you, the true importance of it, and you nodded.
Vincent wasn't important right now.
Family was.
With a defeated sigh, you nodded your head.
"As always Scott, you're right."
Reality suddenly crashed down on you; this would be the last time you ever see Scott inside of work.
"Scott, will I even hear from you again?"
You asked, afraid of his answer.
Scott turned to fully face you now, his shoulders hanging back casually.
He let out a small chuckle before reaching into his pocket and taking out a business card.
You took it with a giant smile etched on your face.
"Thank you Scott,"
You said, once again dipping your head to him.
"I'll try and contact you tomorrow."
You didn't know for sure, but you thought you could see him smile in return.
"No problem (Y/N), have a nice time with your family."
Without another word, not even a farewell, he turned around and walked off.
With a sad sigh, you turned to see that your car was one of the only ones left and quickly jogged over to it, slipping inside and driving away.
As you drove home, you kept silent in your seat, watching the world blur by as the sky transcended into a somber shade of blue.
The moon was already beaming brightly overhead, eclipsed as though someone had taken a bite out of it.
The thought made you shudder.
You wished you had the power to forget things too hard to remember... or at least a memory erasing gun.
As soon as you had arrived home, you called you parents and your closest friends and told them the news, and they all came over to your house to morn with you.
If was very touching, and it defiantly helped with cheering you up, especially when your cats came over to comfort you.
When it was about 7:00 PM, you sent everyone away, not wanting to keep them for too long.
Once you got the last people out of your house (which happen to be your parents), you let out a heavy sigh and trudged over to your couch.
You decided that you'd watch a rerun of your favorite show before calling it a day and going to bed.
A meow distracted you and you turned to see little Phantom padding over to you.
You smiled and picked him up, placing him on your lap.
He purred in response.
With a sad sigh, you looked ahead at the television, picking up the remote and turning the tv on.
To your surprise, you saw that the current news broadcast was all about what happened earlier at Freddy Fazbear's.
Slowly, you dropped the arm holding the remote.
Of course, why wouldn't that be the case?
Your heart descended into the deepest, darkest of pits.
Your throat became terribly dry.
"Jeremy Fitzgerald was a security guard working at the restaurant,"
A male reporter stated, while shots from overhead of Freddy Fazbear's aired on screen.
It was something filmed beforehand, as the video took place right around sunset, long after the ambulance had gone.
"He was said to have been changing a light bulb in the dining area when the restaurant's mascots..."
Pictures of Freddy, Chica and Bonnie appeared side by side.
They were blank, staring soullessly at the viewer.
You hugged your knees.
Your heartbeat grew frantic.
"...began exhibiting what witnesses have called "hostile behavior" before one of them charged the security guard and bit into his head. Police say the victim's frontal lobe was mauled off, leaving him fatally wounded. As of now, Mr. Fitzgerald is still in intensive care, and it is said there is still hope for his recovery."
Suddenly your eyes grew large.
Jeremy...wasn't dead?
He had survived?
You remembered how awful everything about the attack had been.
All the bloodshed, the distinct sound of his bones shattering in the jaws of some mechanical beast.
You shivered to yourself.
You felt terrible for admitting it, but you were unsure if Jeremy's survival could even be considered a good thing.
With a missing frontal lobe, he'd never be the same person again.
Could he even be a person anymore after this?
"Complications arose when workers attempted to haul the mascots off the premises and take them in for investigation. As of now, the restaurant is being watched overnight by a current employee, who also works as a security guard, to ensure that the animatronics stay sealed backstage out of harm's way. The owner of the establishment wants to assure anyone concerned about the employee that he has taken extra precautions to maintain his safety, and that there will not be a repeat occurrence of today's events."
By the time the reporter finished speaking, you were on your feet, gaping at the television while glaring at the pixels dancing onscreen.
Your vision went foggy.
You couldn't believe what you were hearing.
Scott was there now?!
Didn't he tell you he'd be with his family?!
Boss.
Boss had forced him to stay and watch after those monsters.
No.
This was not happening.
That restaurant was not safe.
No one should be there.
Absolutely no one.
You gasped loudly in horror.
Scott could be in danger right now.
You fidgeted in place, inner turmoil screwing with your head relentlessly. You began pacing, occasionally pulling at your hair while breathing sharply through clenched teeth.
You knew every passing second would bring nothing but great anxiety.
What could you do?
Should you call him?
No, employees weren't allowed to have their phones on during work.
Should you go there and see him?
What would be the point of that?
It's dangerous, but would he really listen to you?
What if you couldn't get in?
But what would happen if you just stood by and did nothing?
Finally, with a loud huff of air, you decided what you would do.
You had to go there.
You just had to do something about this.
Nothing about this was okay.
Not in the slightest.
Whipping out your phone, you left a message to your parents.
It's said;
I'm going to rescue Scott from the killer animatronics that killed Jeremy. If I don't call you after an hour, call the police and paramedics and send them straight to Freddy Fazbear's.
Love you, (Y/N)
You stuffed your phone in the star purse you had swung over your shoulder and headed to your room.
You opened your closet and took a look at your weapons.
As of now, you had custom made weapons, but the ones you were focused on we're the two Bo staffs; Aang's and Robin's.
You decided on Robin's, since it was less of an antique and you could actually fight with it.
Taking the shiny silver staff, you slung it behind your back, through the purse straps, threw on your cat-eared hoodie over your Bravest Warriors shirt, and raced out the door, giving you kitties a quick goodbye on the way out.
Leaping into your car, you knew that barging into the pizzeria at this time might have some consequences, but you were willing to face even the most traumatic of dangers if it meant saving Scott.
Even if it was needless, at least you could curb your paranoia by doing something.
Sitting at home and watching the clock was out of the question.
Once outside the front door, you quickly pulled at the handles, only to discover with almost no shock whatsoever that they were locked.
You jiggled it a few times before releasing and cupping your hands against the glass, peering between them and into the distorted shadows that filled the restaurant's every nook and cranny.
You were more determined than afraid, yet still in the back of your mind all you could think was that you never did see the restaurant when it was closed down.
It was haunting, to say the least, and it had almost nothing to do with Jeremy's almost-death from earlier today.
There was no of telling if anyone was inside.
You decided against knocking on the door, afraid that Scott would either not answer you out of fear, or the noise would awaken the animatronics and create a world of hell for everyone involved.
So instead, you circled the building, trying your best to keep your panting to a minimum.
You crept near the walls, closing in on the backdoor next to the dumpster.
Climbing over the locked fence, you hastily made your way over to the door, unpleasant memories flooding your mind.
Since the door behind the building was made of steel, there was no way of seeing into it to find what sort of activity was going on beyond the infernal walls.
Your mind, again, insisted against knocking.
Digging through your purse, you pulled out the key that would unlock the back door.
Boss had been to busy to properly fire you, and since you had blacked out, there was no time to give him the keys to the back, or the badge for that matter.
You drank in a breath of air, pushing in the key before taking the doorknob in your grasp and giving it a slow twist.
You were surprised to find that as soon as the key turned, the knob circled around completely.
A click later, and suddenly the door was opening.
You stood there for a good five seconds.
The door was unlocked?
Why would the door be unlocked?
You weren't thinking clearly at all.
You weren't afraid anymore.
You weren't even in nearly as much of a hurry.
You were only curious now.
If the door was unlocked, that would mean that someone was still here, and yet the absence of lights suggested otherwise.
You were not as accustomed with this side of the restaurant and had no idea where to find the light switches.
You weren't even entirely sure what room you were in.
Looking at your surroundings suggested it was a hallway, but even then you weren't confident that was true.
You slowly slid out your Bo staff, feeling safer with it in your grasp, and started to walk deeper into the darkness.
Your whole body was slightly shaking now.
Your pulse thumped vibrantly in your veins.
Before you could stop yourself, you started calling out to the darkness, even though it was done meekly.
"Hello?"
You waited, but there was no response.
And so you tried again.
"Hello? Scott, are you here?"
Just then, a light burst to life on your left.
You spun.
It was sudden, but nonetheless you were relieved that you were no longer alone.
Your happiness was soon obstructed by horror.
A room was lightened up, a room that you never even knew existed, as it as suddenly just popped up out of nowhere from the dark.
You stared on, jaw slack with confusion and dread.
You weren't sure what you were looking at was even real.
It just wouldn't register.
Scott was tied to a chair, struggling against his binds while grunting angrily.
He looked up to you, his head jerking in surprise.
A gasp flew from him.
"(Y/N)! Get out of here, now!"
You were overcome with fear like you'd never known before.
But you didn't care.
Instead of obeying, you started running over toward him, eyes wide with shock, staff in hand.
"Scott?! Who did this-"
"Look out!"
As soon as you had picked up on footsteps behind you, you twisted your whole body around and held up your staff to block.
Wham!
Whatever hit you, you were just lucky enough to barely stop it from hitting your head.
Staggering back with a gasp, you saw something you thought you could only see in your worst nightmare:
Vincent's face was encased in half shadow, the other side giving visibility to his charmingly evil grin.
Matters were only made worse when the purple man held a large knife before you, snickering between his teeth.
The point glinted in the low lighting, thin beams dancing at the end.
"Hello Love~"
You growled, rightening your staff so you could defend yourself better.
"YOU!"
You roared, taking a couple of steps toward him aggressively.
"Yes me,"
He said smiling, not even flinching at your advance.
"Who else did you expect?"
"Stay back! I still have a needle!"
You shouted at him, despite being only a couple feet away from you.
You started digging into your pocket and pulled it out, but to your horror, he merrily laughed.
"Needles aren't going to help you anymore."
He snickered, before advancing toward you, knife in hand.
"Nothing you have will stop me."
With a hiss, you threw the now worthless needle in his face before lunging at him, swinging your staff at him.
"YOU MONSTER I'LL KILL YOU!"
To your horror, he simply deflected it with his knife before grabbing it and pulling you closer to him, and before you could react fast enough, he swiftly kicked you in the side.
You gasped, the air leaving your lungs as you stated at him, hands on your knees, unmoving.
He had kicked you right in the abs, right under the liver.
Any normal person would have fallen to the ground in pain and panic, struggling for their lives.
But you were stronger than that.
You planted your feet into the ground, refusing to crumble, and trying with all your might to recover from the cheating, breath-taking blow.
You saw him throw your beloved staff to the side, as if it was a price of garbage, before advancing even closer toward you, a big smile on his face.
You could only watch in fear as he circled you, taking you in and chuckling at your pain.
You felt like you were going to die right there and then.
You tried to turn your head to see his movement, and you ended up staring lopsidedly at Scott's bound figure.
He shouted to you, and then at Vincent.
"You leave her alone!"
And then a hand took your neck and jerked you so that you were forced to look up, breath still gasping.
"You should've stayed at home, little helper.~"
You only glared at him, you breathing only starting to recover as he cupped your face lovingly, brushing his purple fingers gently along your cheek.
Language was no longer a thing you knew, and before you had a chance to even fully grasp what was happening, he'd taken the blunt end of the knife and knocked it into your skull.
Now you were dizzy, and something wet was forming where he'd struck you.
You fell to the ground, no longer strong enough to hold yourself up.
All you could pick up on was his cold, unforgiving laughter.
Oh, how it rang out across the empty halls.
Endlessly.
You couldn't fight.
Then you felt yourself being dragged somewhere.
There was nothing you could do about it.
'I'm sorry Scott, I failed you,'
This may have very well been the end.
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