~O~

Part Nine

Emily was still running. She almost made it to the door when she spotted...

Vincent?

She was confused by his presence, but far too relieved to finally find help to really consider why he was here.

"Hey!" she cried, "Oh, thank God!"

She ran into his arms and started talking frantically, in clear hysterics and Vincent looked a little surprised.

"Whoa, whoa!" he said, attempting to calm her. "Slow down. Breathe a bit, okay?" He chuckled gently, raising an eyebrow. "Now, tell me what's going on and why you're in this mall so late at night."

Emily struggled to speak and collect her thoughts. "M-My friends..." she murmured, "My friends... Those machines!"

Vincent stared at her with amusement. "Are you trying to tell me those animatronics are up and moving around?" He chuckled now. "You do realize that can't happen, right?"

"It happened!" Emily cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "They're still here now! We have to go and get help!"

She tugged Vincent's arm, but he didn't move. Emily looked back at him, completely confused. She stared down at his hand, released him and noticed that she had bright red blood on her palm. Emily's eyes widened in horror and she looked down at Vincent, noticing that his shoes were sprinkled with blood and his arm that she'd grabbed was soaked in it.

Something changed in his expression. He smiled at her, but it was like watching someone change masks. His eyes changed too. Became something much darker than the bored, irritated stare from the man in the gas station.

Emily started to run, but Vincent moved just as quickly. She tried to scream, but he wrapped one thick arm around her throat.

"Shhh..." Vincent soothed, struggling a little; she squirmed like a wriggling eel. "No, no, don't scream. We'll get to that later."

Emily grabbed uselessly at the arm holding her, but her struggles began to slow and her eyes rolled up in her head.

"That's it." Vincent crooned, "Good girl."

Emily helplessly stared at the doors that led to her freedom before she slowly lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she could hear Vincent happily humming a song nearby. Emily struggled to move, but she noticed that her arms had been tied down to a pillar, rendering her unable to move.

Vincent appeared in her field of vision, wearing a paper plate mask that a child had made. It looked almost like Springtrap.

"Hello!" he greeted, with a delighted laugh.

Emily grimaced with discomfort, looking away as he giggled again. Vincent removed the mask and smiled at her.

"Ah, I'm really happy you're here." he told her. "I haven't had someone new to play with in a while."

Emily whimpered, struggling against her bonds.

"See, I normally don't like teenagers," Vincent continued, retrieving his knife from his pocket, "But parents are too careful these days."

Emily stared at him, shaking. "Was it you?" she asked, "Were you the one who killed those kids?"

Vincent smiled brightly. "Yep!"

He said it with such pride and delight that it made her physically sick. He reminded her of a child himself; someone who had done something completely immeasurable and wanted to boast about it to the world.

"B-But why?" Emily asked, horrified.

Vincent sighed. "They always ask 'why'." he said, pacing and shaking his head. "When it's always 'how' that's so much more interesting."

Emily looked up beyond him, and she began to notice that the animatronics had started to appear on the top floor. They were standing there, their eyes glowing in the dark. Simply...watching.

"Since you seem like the kind of girl who pays attention," Vincent continued, "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you. The legend of Foxy...Freddy Fazbear...Chica...Bonnie...Mangle. The story of them running around and killing people?"

He smirked. "I made that legend up. I knew that nosy little out-of-state kids like you couldn't resist coming here and seeing for yourself."

Emily noticed Springtrap now. He was standing at the top of the escalator, just watching the interaction between them.

"So you'd have all the victims you want." she said, "And then you - "

"Do you like games?" Vincent suddenly asked, losing interest in this conversation. He had been toying with his knife while she spoke.

Emily looked hopelessly confused. "W-What?"

"Games!" Vincent said, looking at her as if she should have known. "You know, like the ones we have at the restaurant!"

Emily didn't know how to answer.

Springtrap tilted his head.

"I-I don't know..." she stammered.

Vincent smiled, leaned on his knees in front of her. "See, I drove out here hoping to find a bit of a game to play. I mean, you kids sure did give me a workout! And old Mike? I didn't even know he was still here!"

He laughed now, delighted.

Emily struggled against her bonds and Vincent straightened. He sighed through his nose and shook his head.

"You don't look like you want to play games." he said, with disappointment. "In fact, you look like you want to run away. I really hate when they run."

He suddenly drove the heel of his foot down on one of her ankles.

Emily let out a horrible scream of agony. But he didn't stop. He continued stomping on her leg until the bone shattered beneath his foot. Vincent laughed with glee and Emily howled and wailed in pain. She stared down at the ankle he had assaulted; the leg was horribly bent to one side and blood soaked her jeans.

"Aww, what are you screaming for?" he sneered, "Mike dislocated one of my fingers! You don't see me screaming."

He held up his hand for emphasis and wiggled his finger.

Tears streamed down Emily's cheeks and she laid there, whimpering. Vincent leaned down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Still want to run?" he asked. "Or are you going to play the games right this time?"

Emily was sobbing softly. "P-Please..." she begged.

Vincent groaned, rolling his eyes. "God, you are really boring." he muttered. "Not at all like the younger ones."

He straightened, held up his knife to her chin and sighed. "Alright, you win some, you lose some."

He raised the knife and Emily's eyes widened.

But suddenly, a brutal hand closed around Vincent's wrist.

O

Emily and Vincent stared in shock at Springtrap. The animatronic was holding Vincent's arm so tightly, he was forced to drop his knife.

Vincent's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"Who the hell are you?" he hissed, wincing.

Springtrap grabbed him by his face before throwing the man far from Emily. Vincent slid across the floor with a yell and struck the end of the escalator.

Emily watched the sight with a mixture of pain and joy.

"Emily!" Dean cried, rushing up to her.

"Dean..." Emily moaned, never being so happy to see him until now. "You're alive."

Dean quickly hurried to untie her bonds and he looked down at her leg. "Come on, we need to get out of here!"

"He saved my life..." Emily mumbled.

Dean looked confused. "Who?"

"Springtrap. He saved me."

Vincent climbed to his feet and started to run, but Foxy was already there, screeching in his face. He tried to go around him, but Chica stepped in his path. Before he knew it, every machine was there, surrounding him.

Even Mangle, who let out a warbling, metallic scream.

Dean helped Emily stand, but she winced and he threw her arm over his shoulder so he could help her better steady herself. They stood and watched as Vincent was being surrounded by the animatronics.

He tried to get around them, but Bonnie giggled and pushed his shoulder with one hand.

Vincent panted, frantic to get away. He looked over toward the two teenagers, his eyes wide. Now, there was fear.

True fear.

"Wait!" he cried. "Help me! Please!"

Dean stared coldly back at him. "Funny. I'm sure that's exactly what they said, too."

Vincent stared in disbelief, moments as Freddy's huge paw clasped over his face. He struggled and screamed as the animatronics grabbed him. They cackled, squealed and screamed their delight.

But Dean didn't see the machines. He saw the cold, vengeful children who grabbed him instead. The dark, empty glares on their bloodied, ashen faces. The same tear, streaked cheeks that the boy who resided in the puppet had.

The unsympathetic way they stared down at the squirming, screaming man was chilling. Chica held Vincent's jaw, but instead of Chica, it was a young girl glaring down at him. It was a glare full of purpose.

Their killer.

In their grasp.

At last.

Springtrap stared at the teenagers before he gestured with a flick of his head.

Go.

Dean returned the nod before they made their way to the doors. But not before he stopped and gave one final glance back at the sight.

Springtrap was gone, and in his place stood Smith. The man who looked just like the kids. His uniform in tatters, bloody and broken. He just smiled at Dean, a parting thank you in his stare. It was nice to see the man behind the machine. The one who had been falsely killed for Vincent's sins.

Then, he smirked coldly down at Vincent.

Dean noticed the spirits of other victims standing around the scene, watching silently and solemnly. Mark was among them, a broken and bloodied ghost.

He met Dean's eyes and nodded once.

Take care of her...

Dean watched as Vincent was carried away by the animatronics, his screams fading into the dark.

Emily groaned in pain and he quickly carried her through the doors. The sun was about to rise over the horizon.

He looked down at his watch only for a moment.

6:00 AM.

It was almost morning.

"Come on, Emily..." he told her, "Let's just get home."

He stared briefly down at the puppet on his belt.

All of us.

O

The animatronics were screaming, cackling and shrieking with delight.

Vincent could see nothing more but their disfigured, wide-eyed grins in his field of vision. He managed to look back and see Springtrap following silently behind them.

Every so often, he saw flashes of the children and Smith.

Vincent...It's time to play, Vincent...

Smith spoke the words from Springtrap's decayed form. Smith's bloodied lips as he smiled emotionlessly.

Vincent was being carried to Parts and Service. He noticed Golden Freddy standing there, a shade of Andy. Still bloodied and broken. He silently pointed to the chair nearby, where Vincent had sometimes brought his victims.

And now his victims would bring him here.

Andy slowly removed the Golden Freddy head, revealing the bloodied skull beneath. He gave a horrid, mad cackle and Vincent recoiled from the sight, gasping with fright.

"I killed you!" he snarled, as he was forced violently into the seat. "There's no coming back! There's NO COMING BACK!"

His shouts went by ignored by the machines, who held his wrists down to the armrest of the chair. As an added bonus, Foxy stomped on his feet.

Foxy let out a wild, mad giggle. "Arr! This landlubber! This..." Static. A demonic snarl of rage. "...MONSTER..." More static. An animatronic giggle. Then, another fierce snarl. "...will never see the light of day again!"

Vincent screamed again and again as Foxy's stomps crushed his feet into nothing more than bloodied, mushed piles of bone and flesh. His body shook violently in shock and pain and Freddy forced his head back with one violent yank of a hand.

Mangle paced around him, snarling and hissing.

Be gentle with your new toy, kids... Smith whispered something in the far corner of Vincent's mind. We don't want to break him quickly, do we?

Vincent looked around for Springtrap, but he could barely move his head from Freddy's grip.

"Let's teach this stowaway a lesson!" Foxy's voice box played a particularly dark message next, " - a lesson in pain!"

Bonnie's giggle filtered through a collection of nightmarish screams and snarls.

Freddy began to play a music box version of Georges Bizet's the Toreador Song from the opera "Carmen". His signature jingle.

Mocking him.

They were mocking him.

Bonnie's voice box filtered through more haunting whispers. "The Fazbear Band is here!" he processed through his default message. "And we're all a-a-a-a-a..." More static and a demonic hiss. "ANGRY."

Vincent looked up at the sight of Springtrap approaching him with a Freddy Head in his hands. It had a little top hat and bright pink cheeks. Vincent's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

"No!" he shouted. "NO!"

Springtrap placed the head over Vincent's head. The man could only stare through the eye holes as the animatronics stared back. Including Golden Freddy.

Time to play, Vincent.

...Time to die...

The only sound that remained was Vincent's frantic panting noises.

Finally, the spring-locks in the head snapped and abruptly silenced him.

"Can you hear me...?"

"...You're broken..."

Whispers.

"We are still your friends."

Mocking, cruel laughter.

O

Dean was driving.

He occasionally glanced over to Emily, who had fallen asleep with her face leaned against the window.

What would they do now? Where would they even begin?

He looked into the rear view mirror, watching the mall slowly begin to vanish over the horizon as they drove further and further from it.

Within the mall, Vincent was now long dead; still seated in the chair, head tipped forward lifelessly with the Fazbear head over his.

He looked like a grotesque king, broken and bloodied.

Finally, the door before him slammed shut and Springtrap's dry, raspy chuckle was all that could be heard.

After a few moments, Freddy's jingle started to play.

O

Note - One chapter left to go!