Dead Set. || PURPLEPHONE

Escape Plan.

Scott paused in the middle of the room, sitting up on his haunches and frowning.

He felt a hand on the small on his back, an unspoken question from Vincent, who had stopped beside him. His hand was a comfort in the cold of the silence.

"We... haven't heard Ballora," Scott frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, taking in the room as he turned a small circle, "I... I don't think... she's here."

Scott couldn't see Vincent, but he could hear him getting to his feet, feel his arm brushing against Scott's, "What do you mean?" he whispered quietly, obviously still cautious in case the ballerina was around, "Where else could she possibly be?"

"Well," Scott paused for a moment, and then he raised his voice to a near-shout, "Well! If she were here, she would have said something by now!" He fell quiet again.

There was no response from the darkness surrounding them.

Scott glanced over where he knew Vincent was. The light from Vincent's eyes slowly brightened, "You really think she's not here?"

"I think... when we turned the power back on, she returned to her stage," Scott said. "That, or..."

"Or...?" Vincent prompted.

"Or... she slipped into the control room before the vent locks came back online," Scott muttered.

"Oh. Oh, well this is great!" Vincent threw his hands out in exasperation, "How are we supposed to get to the elevator if it's being guarded by murder robots?"

"Come to think of it..." Scott whispered, "Funtime Foxy chased us into the control room, didn't they? Which means... they're probably still in there."

"And what does Funtime Foxy react to?" Vincent growled, "Ballora was sound, Freddy was... whatever the hell Freddy was... what's Foxy's trigger?"

"Movement," Scott said it almost to himself, his mind already miles ahead, "Funtime Foxy is triggered by movement."

"Oh my God," Vincent groaned, "So we're stuck here. Until we die of starvation or until one of them decides to come back through here and find us. Whichever comes first."

Scott sucked on his bottom lip, gazing over at the vent that could be barely seen through the gloom. "I... think I have an idea..." he said quietly.

"Well? What is it, then?" Vincent pushed him gently, "The quicker we get out of the hell hole you got us stuck in, the better."

"If we... If we walked up to the end of the vent, just where it hits the wall... we might be able to hit it hard enough to rip it off its hinges and get through, bypassing the control room entirely..." Scott took a step towards the vent, "The only thing is..."

"...It'd make noise loud enough that Ballora would hear it for sure, and the vents would vibrate enough that so would Foxy," Vincent muttered, "Which means..."

"We have to tear the vent off the wall, call the elevator down and get safely inside before they reach us. And," Scott glanced back at Vincent, "Once we start?"

"There's no turning back," Vincent finished. He met Scott's eyes, his face gently illuminated by Vincent's gaze, "It's this or nothing."

"Well you know what I think," Vincent shrugged one shoulder and held his arms out, "I'm a diagnosed psychopath with very little sense of fear who's addicted to high-risk activities - though they don't usually turn out as fatal as this. At least... not for me. So, really, Scott... it's up to you."

"You are so bloody helpful," Scott growled at him, shooting a quick glare, "What I'm getting from that little brag session is that you have no genius ideas. It's try to escape and be ripped apart or sit here in the dark and rot." He spun on his heel and glared at the control room. He turned and glared at the vent. He glared at everything in general, glared at whatever being looking down from above that had put them in this situation, and glaring at the fact that he knew that their current situation was not due to some omnipotent being but his rather own foolishness. Finally, he stormed off towards the part of the vent they'd have to rip apart.

The light from the room flickered like an inverted lightning bolt as Vincent blinked, but the sound of his no-longer concealed footsteps echoing through the room told Scott that he was following, "Any techniques on ripping apart aluminium?" 

"I can't say I've done it before," Vincent's voice was tinged with the slightest amusement, out of place and disturbing in the sombre atmosphere. "I might have, I was hopeless at breaking and entering as a teen, but if I did I can't remember." 

"I'm never going to be bored as long as I know you, am I?" Scott groused. Vincent had seemed so angry at him before, almost at the point of breaking, but now was careless as a bird. Extreme mood swings. Wasn't that part of being psychopathic? "I hate being in love with you." 

Vincent just chuckled, a sound that was three parts amusement and one part threat, "Yeah, well, it ain't no joyride for me either. You're going to be the unravelling of me, Scott Adams, I already know, and here I am just letting you pull me apart thread by thread."

Scott stopped in front of the vent. He let out a breath and reached forward, his fingertips grazing over the cool metal, "Well... any confessions you'd like to make before we do this?"

"Would you rather spend your last moments with the man you love or spend them alone with only the bitter thought of the man you thought you knew?" was Vincent's somewhat vague reply. He stopped beside Scott and in a quick flash of movement had grabbed his hips and pulled him close, "Though, if it's okay with you, I'd like to kiss you. Just in case I never get the chance to do it again."

"Don't," Scott whispered against Vincent, his skin warm and close and so human, "That makes it sound too permanent. If we get out of here alive... When we get out of here alive. You can kiss me then." 

Vincent cocked his head for a moment, but at last he nodded and stepped away, "Whatever keeps you going, I guess. Now... are you ready?"

Scott turned around to face the vent again, a lump caught in his throat, "Yeah. I'm ready." 

(( geez... we sure are getting close to the end of the book... :^) ))