a cold blooded killer

There was blood.

There was so much blood. It was on the pavement, sinking into the cracks where grass and dandelions had dared to grow. It was on the steps, where the man's body fell as he screamed in agony, writhing as much as he could around the giant gash across his chest. It had splattered on the door before he took a final breath. The rain washed most of the evidence into the gutter, all but the body and the knife.

Scott was holding the knife.

He hadn't quite remembered how he got here, other than leaving the restaurant just after sunset with a sense of unease. The wind howled around him, and the sky had been filled with clouds for the past couple days.

Then there was a strange man standing in front of him.

For some reason or another, the animatronics had been acting weird for the past month, ever since William Afton mysteriously went missing, leaving nothing but a note detailing his wishes for his pizzeria. Ever since then, lights behind their eyes flickered; their voices stuttered; they were the exact embodiment of the type of possession that Scott had read about in books, but those were all fictional. He had brushed it off because it was real, and he had gotten used to the odd behavior.

Apparently his coworker, Vincent, didn't seem to mind, either, as he nonchalantly strolled across the stage, weaving between the bunny and the bear animatronics.

"Are you locking up tonight?" Vincent jumped off the stage and onto the floor of the empty dining room, his feet landing hard on the carpet floor.

"You told me you were going to lock up." Scott was tying the top of a garbage bag, not even sparing a glance toward Vincent. "Did something happen?"

"Yeah, you could say- So..." Vincent rushed his words, trying to avoid follow-up questions as much as possible. Though, he was a slacker and everyone at that restaurant knew it, even the customers he served. "I have to leave soon. The boys are waiting for me."

Scott sighed. Seriously, the boys? He thought to himself. He knew that Vincent was going out drinking again, like he always did, and even if Scott left Vincent to lock up he would do a shitty job of it, like he always did.

"Try not to come in hungover tomorrow," Scott said flatly, tossing the garbage bag onto a pile of four others that had to be taken out later. He looked up briefly as Vincent passed him on the way to the front doors, giving Scott a playful but firm shove in the shoulder.

"See ya tomorrow, mister boss man." Vincent really drew out mister boss man, just to rub salt in the wound. Vincent wasn't bitter; he had no desire to be the manager. If you asked him, it was far too much work. No, he wasn't upset because he was overlooked. He was upset because William Afton had chosen Scott to be the manager.

Out of all of his coworkers, Scott had to be the most difficult to work with. His catchphrase was practically, that's not how you do it. Vincent would usually respond with a smug, well, that's how I do it, and continue to do his task the wrong way just to piss Scott off.

It was all because he didn't like Scott, and he would admit it. He didn't like the way Scott talked or the way that he sucked up to Mr. Afton, which was probably the reason why Scott ended up getting the manager job in the first place. He didn't like the gossip that Scott would share with the other servers when business was slow. Vincent didn't care about the cool kid with dyed hair who served Scott a latte with a perfect swan on top. He cared even less about the man in full American flag attire who had cut Scott in line and called him a slur at Walmart.

Vincent decided that he was glad when Scott finally got the hint and stopped trying to talk to him. They had successfully been strangers for the entire three years they had known each other, and Vincent wanted to keep it that way.