Dead Set. || PURPLEPHONE

The Voicemail.

"Received at one fourty-three a.m." There was silence for a little bit, and then a beep, "Geezus, Scott, would it kill you to pick up your phone for once?!"

Scott's thumb hit the end call button without him really thinking. He hunched over his phone as tears hit the LED display, Boss's voice ringing in his ears. "Oh God, Vincent... What have I done?" 

Vincent put an arm over his shoulders comfortingly, rubbing his back. "Shh, Scott. You know he doesn't mean it." He reached out for Scott's phone, "Do you mind?"

Scott sniffled, handing Vincent his phone and burying his head in his arms. He shuddered, "I'm a murderer, Vincent. I killed him. I could have saved him, and I just let him die." 

The next moment, Mike was hauling him to his feet, "Don't be stupid, Scott... Oh, come here..." He pulled Scott into a hug, and Scott clung to him tightly, not really for the comfort as much as if he let go, he'd collapse, and he didn't really fancy a second concussion. 

Mike pulled away from him, and glared, "Now, you need to get a hold of yourself. Don't make me slap you, Adams. What do you think Boss would want, you to become a mess? You know what Boss would do if it was you dead, Scott? Boss would be as composed as ever."

Scott glanced down at the ground and scoffed, "That's easy enough for you to say, Mike. You didn't send him to his deat-"

And before he could say another word, Mike had slapped him hard across the face.

Scott gasped, stumbling back a few paces, "What was that for!?"

"Because you're being an idiot, Scott!" Mike spat at him. "What were you gonna do, huh? Answer the phone just in time to hear Foxy bite into his skull?" He rolled his eyes at Scott's gasp. "Well? Be honest with yourself. You couldn't have saved him once his spine was ripped out of his body!"

Scott looked up at him, his fists clenched, "How can you dare talk about a dead man like that!?" 

"Because there'll be two dead men if you don't stop blaming yourself for it!" Mike snapped, and then his shoulders slumped. He took a step back, wiping at his eyes. Everything was silent for a very tense few seconds. 

Scott glanced down at the ground, "Mike. I understand that you're upset, but you have to respect that this morning I've not just lost my Boss, but my uncle, my guide, and my inspiration. You have to respect my right to grieve." 

"You can grieve all you want, Scott. Just stop feeling sorry for yourself," Mike snarled, and he turned around, stalking off.

Jeremy broke into sobs on the other side of Scott, burying his eyes into the sleeve of his green jumper. "P-P-Please s-s-stop f-f-f-f-fighting. Y-Y-Y-You'll o-o-only m-make t-this w-worse." 

"Don't worry about it, Jer," Vincent said. "Everyone's just... tense." He let out a deep breath, "Alright. We need to listen to the voicemail. It might give us some important details. Scott, you go sit over near the ambulance, and we'll come and get you-"

"I want to hear it," Scott said. His voice was short and sharp, and meant no nonsense. 

Vincent blinked at him for a second, but after a second, he nodded, seeming to understand. He unlocked Scott's phone and keyed in 121. There was the standard customised greeting, the beep, and...

"Geezus, Scott, would it kill you to pick up the phone for once?!" A pause, some heavy breathing, "Oh, it doesn't matter. It's too late, anyway. What is it they warn about creating robots? One day, they'll get tired of their creator..." Boss's voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "I don't know how long I have. The doors aren't closing... I know one of them's in here, I- Oh, God..." There was the sound of something crashing into the room, furniture being overturned and metallic screeching, "Foxy, no! F-Foxy, down!  Back! Scott, don't let it die! It's yours! Freddy Fazbear's is yours! Don't let them shut it-" and then the sound of jaws snapping, bones breaking, mechanical gears whirring, and... silence.

Vincent hung up from the call.

Scott turned around, and looked up at the building in front of him. Freddy Fazbear's loomed over him, the sign buzzing. The windows were dusty, covered in greasy handprints. Once they'd been the reminder of happy children. Now they looked like the hands of hundreds of ghosts trapped inside, screaming for help. The slogan, "Where Fantasy and Fun Come To Life"... It seemed so mocking now.

 Vincent was right, Scott could see it now. The place reeked of misery. It felt like a sentient being, a kind of presence, controlling and manipulating the lives of all those who walked through the doors. He may think he owned the business, but in reality, the business owned him. 

Scott laughed, and before he knew it, he was laughing harder and harder, his hands in his hair, pulling at it as he doubled over. His eyes were filling with tears, and whether it was from the grief consuming him or the sheer hysterical laughing he wasn't sure.

He didn't really hear or see Vincent running to his side until his hands were cupping his face. Vincent coaxed him into a standing position again, "Scott! Snap out of it, you're scaring me!"

Scott just laughed again, taking a step back, "Oh, just you wait, Vincent. Freddy Fazbear's won't know what hit it."