The Man Behind the Slaughter (FNAF)

Chapter 15

He strutted triumphantly from the office. He had scored himself the easiest job in the world. The pay wasn't too great, but it was enough to cover his bills at least. In the far corner, a black piano that looked rather battered sat elegantly. Intrigued, he strode towards it and ran his fingers across the top. It was a beautiful instrument and he found himself in awe of it. His adoptive mother had taught him a few things about the piano. He looked over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching him before sitting on the bench. He positioned his fingers the way his mother had taught him and started to play. He felt all his memories rushing back as he let his fingers drift over the keys. He faintly heard footsteps behind him but he paid no mind to it. He was to concentrated on the music.
"You're really good at that." Someone commented shyly.
Stoping, Vincent shifted his body so he could face Scott who looked surprised and impressed. He felt his face soften a bit as he mumbled a quick thank you that was hardly audible.
Without an invitation, Scott plopped down next to him so their sides were pressed together. "I've never heard anything so.. Sorrowful." Scott murmured glumly.
"If you've felt a lot of pain, you'd understand." Vincent matched his depressed tone. "My adoptive mother played this when my brother died."
"I'm sorry for your loss." Scott bowed his head respectfully and Vincent smiled at him. It was a genuine smile. He decided he liked Scott.
"Have you ever loved someone?" Vincent turned to him, seriously eyeing him.
Surprised by the question, Scott shuffled his feet. "I suppose so. Why?"
"I hurt someone I love." Vincent choked. He was shocked he was confiding in Scott, but he needed to talk to someone.
"I think we only hurt the people we love. It's not exactly something you want to do, but sometimes it protects them and yourself." Scott told him, wisely.
"I'm a bad person, Scott." Vincent closed his eyes, grief overcoming him.
"You're not, Vincent. I know you're not." Scott attempted to comfort him. He rested his hand on Vincent's shoulder. Usually, Vincent would have shrugged it off but he didn't mind it.
"Scott!" Isaac yelled across the vacant room. "Shouldn't you be answering the phone?"
"Yes sir." Scott gritted his teeth and Vincent snorted, getting up to stand beside him. "I'll talk to you later." Scott grumbled, stalking away towards the telephone. Amused and not quite ready to go home, Vincent sighed. Something shiny caught his eye and he turned his head to see what it was. While he was being interviewed, the men who had carried the boxes in had assembled one of the robots and had moved on to the next one. He crept forward as if the machine would spring to life and pounce on him. He was wary of it as he ran his hand across it's slightly parted jaw. Fascinated, he circled it, moving his hand across the auburn paint that coated the metal casing. He could almost feel the fox's amber eyes following him. He stopped in front of it again. The fox stood at a little more than 5 feet tall. Vincent being six feet tall, gazed down at it, his brow furrowing. There was something about the fox that seemed eerie.
"Excuse me, mister."
Vincent jumped and turned to face a teenage boy who was watching him coldly.
"Don't touch the machinery." He snarled, pushing past Vincent.
"I work here, kid." Vincent shot back mildly.
The teenager's eyes softened and he retreated backwards. "You must be Vincent. I'm Mike."
"Pleasure." Vincent stayed flatly. He could care less who the boy was, he wanted him out of his sight.
"Good luck on the night shift." Mike sneered, his nose upturned as if he'd smelled something vile. "I heard these animatronics have a mind of their own."