Murder At The Hotel (DISCONTINUED)

Deeper in they crept // Oblivious of the bears and darker terrors

"Are you ready, [REDACTED]?"

"Yes, I'm... ready."

"Don't seem so forlorn, makes me think you don't actually wanna do this!"

"Shut up."

VICTIM #1: TROPHY

3:24 AM

Trophy pushed the door to the roof open, flinching when the loud bang of it slamming rung out through the air. [REDACTED] had requested to talk to Trophy, with the roof being the designated meeting spot.

An irritated sigh escaped his lips. Right, of course [REDACTED] would request an unholy hour to "talk things through" and be late. No matter how much nagging Trophy did, [REDACTED] stayed firm on the fact that they "absolutely have to" meet on the roof at three in the morning. Making his way to the edge, he leaned against the concrete railing. If he hadn't known any better, he would've suspected [REDACTED] of plotting a murder against him.

"This is so dumb... why would you request to talk to someone at three?" he muttered to himself tiredly, stifling a yawn. "Why at such an ass hour? ... so stupid."

"Trophy?"

"Agh!" Trophy jumped about five feet in the air, whipping around to confront the mystery voice. He relaxed when he saw who it saw. "Oh, [REDACTED]."

[REDACTED] gave him a small smile. It was disturbing how they had managed to come up to the roof so quietly. Maybe it was just Trophy's lack of sleep getting to him. "Thanks for coming up here to talk, especially at such an 'ass hour'."

"Whatever," Trophy scoffed, rolling his eyes right round. Frankly, there were about forty nine thousand three hundred and seven better things he could be doing with his valuable time. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Well I wanted to talk about... uhm..." [REDACTED] faltered, as if forgetting a script. Suddenly, their eyes lit up, and Trophy could almost see the lightbulb that appeared above [REDACTED]'s head. "THIS!"

A sledgehammer sliced through the air, quick to find its home in the side of Trophy's head. A sickening crack could be heard as he sunk to the floor, emitting a low groan from his lips. Panting, they delicately placed the sledgehammer next to Trophy's dying body and sat next to him.

"Good night," [REDACTED] whispered, leaning over and gently shutting Trophy's eyelids.

VICTIM #2: BLUEBERRY

3:45 AM

"Where is he?" [REDACTED] muttered anxiously, adrenaline still pumping fast through their veins. Tapping their fingers restlessly, they shifted against the wall as to hide the bloodied sledgehammer behind them. Every second felt like years, and it was agonising.

For the umpteenth time, [REDACTED] stole a glance at their watch. 3:45. [REDACTED] groaned and rubbed their eyes, hoping to rub the tired out of them. "Hurry up... hurry up..." they mouthed it like a mantra, fiddling with their hands.

As soon as the sound of footsteps registered in [REDACTED]'s ears, their head shot up, quickly trying to identify the source of the sound. There came Blueberry, sluggishly dragging himself down the hallway.

[REDACTED] took this moment to study Blueberry. Surely enough, an easy target. Half-asleep, barely functioning, practically incapable of raising his voice. It was all to perfect. She really knows how to pick her targets, [REDACTED] thought morosely.

"Hello, what did you want to speak about..?" Blueberry drawled as soon as he was in talking distance. He had not even gave [REDACTED] a chance to say 'hi'. They just stood there, a little bewildered.