𝘎𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵.

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 7

Author's note: I literally used a plot generator for this, I have no clue where this is going.

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Days went by, and the fellow detective wasn't really getting anywhere. The murderer would often strike again, Except murdering those who lived close to Quackity as he discovered. It was a pattern. Every so often, another unfortunate individual would be killed, but the murderer would kill people living closer and closer to Quackity. Funny thing was, each time a person was killed, they'd be people who Quackity knew. First his worst enemy, and then one of his not so great friends, his toxic ex, and another friend. Quackity wasn't really worried at all, since he didn't like these people that much. He barely talked to them so he wasn't scared at all.

...

Until Quackity's neighbour next door was murdered.

The detective clutched his head as he laid down onto his black desk in agony. He slammed his fist against the table, making his pens and papers slightly move at every blow he took. He had enough. The murderer was playing a game. This was all just a game to the killer. A game where he gave the detective meaningless, playful and angering clues which didn't help whatsoever. The so-called 'clues' were just notes. Letters. Written out and printed, taped somewhere. Alexis was just so done with it all. He felt impatient. Impatient, angry, and disappointed. Mostly in himself. It seemed as if everything he did wasn't enough, it just didn't help. There weren't any real clues, fingerprints, or whatever. Only typed out letters.

The detective decided he'd walk out for a smoke so he could catch a breather. It was getting late. Edging to almost midnight. He had to get home soon but felt as if he'd rather stay the night at his office. He put on his dark coat, pushed back his black hair (which was falling into his face) and walked out the door, taking his silver keys. He stepped into the dark echoey hallway. Every step he took made a satisfying "tap" sound that vibrated. His office building really did seem empty. There were only a few workers inside their offices, but you could only see the simple dimness from their windows if you looked from outside. Quackity stepped into the elevator and was just about to close it when a hand looked as if it seemingly got stuck between the elevator door.

"oh my gods-" Quackity yelped as he opened the elevator. The person whose hand got stuck in the elevator door winced as they stepped in.

Wilbur Soot.

Again.

"Hello, Quackity!" Wilbur smiled cheerfully. The noirette wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. He simply ignored his tall brunet friend. "...Quackity." Wilbur mumbled, with the amount of seriousness nobody could compare to. And yet again, Alexis ignored Wilbur. This sort of set Wilbur off as he walked closer to Quackity. The detective barely flinched. He just seemed to glare at him.

And suddenly, the elevator stopped and the lights turned off, leaving the two in total darkness. This startled the detective, and he immediately clung to Wilbur tightly. Surprised, Wilbur hugged Quackity tightly. He smirked mockingly. "I swear... I'm going to k!ll whoever forgot to fix this goddamn elevator." Quackity mumbled, his warm breath against his friend's chest.

"Quackity?" Wilbur asked. And finally, the noirette replied. He didn't bother looking up. "What is it?"

Wilbur looked down. "What would you do, if... uh, Let's say, somebody you knew tried killing those that were close to you, how would you feel?" He asked cautiously. Quackity tensed up. "Excuse me?" He said nervously. He let go of Wilbur as if scared. "I'm just asking, not much of a big deal. I'm curious. How would you react?" The brunet reassured the noirette. "Well... I... uh..." Quackity mumbled. "Here, let me just call somebody to bust us out of here okay?" He said quickly, reaching for his phone to call 911 or anyone who could help. (Idk phones were common in the 1990s or something but I'm just gonna assume so because I have no idea how they're going to get out of this elevator)

Wilbur slapped Quackity's hand from the device. "What-" Quackity snapped, half creeped out half-mad. "Answer my question first" Wilbur replied. "I'm just curious about what you think about those murders happening."

Quackity thought long and hard. "I mean, if somebody I knew was killing those I was close to... I'd be really mad. I'd want that person dead." He muttered quietly. Wilbur seemed to smile wilder but the noirette didn't notice. "Hm. I want to help you with your cases" Wilbur smiled. Quackity looked up. "wha- why, don't you have better things to do, you have a goddamn job and you need to look after Fundy and-" Wilbur cut him off. "Well, You have a child too, don't you?" Quackity glared at him. "Tubbo doesn't even live with me" Wilbur smiled. "Exactly, nor does Fundy.

The detective awkwardly stared at his feet. "Okay... Alright then, you can help me if you'd like, I don't care, just don't get in the way of things." He snapped. Wilbur nodded happily. "Alright! now, We should really figure out how to get out of this place, I'm feeling kind of claustrophobic right now, and I'm sweating. Is it really hot in here or is it because of you?" He joked. Quackity flushed red but laughed.

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I wrote this when I was on a call, studying for a science test. ;^; I'm currently having intense stomach pain and its killing me, I want to puke right now q-q

I didn't check over this and there might be some triggers I missed, if there were, please tell me!

Word count: 985 words

Have a wonderful day/night, remember to drink water and eat food, And most important of all, you are valued! If you have any scenario ideas, please tell me! Once again have a wonderful day! -Sky