Knifepoint (A Life Series murder mystery AU)

3• The Dawn Of The Dance

  They were seated in the living room. Scott, Ren, Martyn, Grian and Cleo occupying the couch, leaving everyone else to sit wherever they found space in the room. "So. BigB's dead," said Scott, emotions not taking rise. "How can you be so calm about the situation?" It was Ren, BigB's former soulmate. "Because," replied Scott, giving his seat to Jimmy and sitting on the arm of the couch instead, "the Watchers wouldn't get rid of their entertainment so easily. He's most likely not dead."

  Martyn nodded, "That is very likely," he agreed. Ren scowled, "That doesn't mean we sit back and relax while this so-called replica kills us like cows in a slaughterhouse!"

  "Scott never said we should relax," said Etho, toying with his fingers, "just that BigB's not dead." Ren growled a 'fine' and backed down, that scowl not leaving his face. "Scott's right on the fact that B's not dead. But, he might be somewhere worse. Who's to say they haven't trapped him in his own mind, forever aimlessly roaming?"

  Grian's voice shook as he voiced the thought in his head. The room fell silent as they pondered over what would happen after they died. No one wanted to find out for themselves. Although this thought wasn't voiced, everyone silently agreed that someone was going to find out soon.

  "Not even twenty-four hours and one's dead," said Impulse, unable to comprehend the situation. "Who knows? Another few hours and someone else may be dead." Scott narrowed his eyes at Impulse, highly suspicious of the brunette. "Are you trying to say it's me, Scott?"

  "I meant nothing of the sort," said Scott, sounding indignant. Scar huffed, "Stop arguing, you two. Can we focus on the matter at hand, please?" Scott sighed and turned towards Scar, "Yeah, you're right. This game is getting to me." He threw an apologetic look at Impulse, "If I'd said that anywhere else, it might've been far more jokingly."

  Impulse smiled, lines of tiredness etched into his facial features. "Likewise."

  Grian clapped twice, getting everyone's attention. "As Scar said, matter at hand. Do we know what killed him?" Cleo shrugged, "A knife, most likely," causing heads to turn towards her. "What? I'm just stating the obvious."

  "Cleo isn't wrong," said Jimmy, "The most obvious murder tool is a knife. It's not like we've got swords, axes and shovels hung up." Joel nodded. "Most obvious," he repeated, "but what if our murderer is creative? There are plenty of ways to kill someone. I'm pretty sure there's an entire song about that."

  "Correction, the song is about dumb ways to die. Literally," said Scott. Jimmy rolled his eyes at his boyfriend - a motion gone undetected. "Is the knife bloody?" BDubs asked, "Would the murderer have left the knife bloody?" Grian shook his head. "Worth a shot," shrugged Scar.

  Grian shrugged as well, causing Scar to check whether the knife was bloody. "Nope!" was the call. BDubs sighed, "Oh, well."

  Tango groaned in frustration. All of them had been sitting there, trying to figure something out to no avail. As Scar entered the room, Tango weighed the possibility of Impulse being the replica. Nope, not possible.

  "Skizz!" he blurted out, "What if it's Skizz?" That statement left him with a glare from Impulse, one of Skizz's closest friends. "I would like you to remember I was also allied with him last time but that's not the point! Honestly, how many of you locked your door?"

  Multiple hands raised up, most of the bedrooms covered. "Only bedrooms three and five had their doors unlocked?" The residents of the bedrooms - Joel, Etho, Cleo and BDubs - nodded their agreement. "Then how on Earth would the replica get in?"

  Skizz seemed to realise how the blame had fallen on him. "No no no! I-it isn't me! Why would I have killed my own roommate?!" Joel raised an eyebrow, "I dunno, lad. Why would any of us kill BigB? Oh, I know! It's 'cause the murderer has a desire for murder!"

  "Very poetic," muttered Etho. Joel nodded at him. "Thanks."

  "I can promise you it isn't me!" Skizz seemed near tears. "How can I show you it isn't me?" Scott shrugged. Skizz panicked, "A lockpick! There might have been someone who can pick locks!"

  "With what materials?" challenged Scar. "I dunno, Scar. He looks genuinely scared. Thinking of it, there were a few hairpins in one of  the kitchen drawers," said BDubs. "So, what? This is a two-imposter game?" Several eyes fell on Grian. "Me and BDubs. Is that what you think it is?"

  "Something's not fitting right," muttered Ren, "My main question being what the f-"

  "So!" yelled Grian, trying to drown Ren's swear out, "Let's look at the situation, shall we?" His voice lowered, "So, someone left their bedroom at night and lockpicked Skizz's and B's room - assuming it's not Skizz - and went to bed. If it wasn't Skizz, someone might have heard something, right? Timmy? Aren't you a restless sleeper?"

  "I was awake for some of the night but I've no idea when this happened." Scott nodded, "The body looked fresh when I came in so I'm assuming about five-ish."

  "What do you mean, fresh?" challenged Etho. "As in it- You know, what? Let's go see BigB before I explain it." Etho left his seat, Scott following close behind, Scar and Grian bringing up the rear end of the procession.

  As the group of four made their way down the hallway, the lights flickered and went out, followed by Ren yelling, "What the hell, dude?!" His screams slowly followed.

  Thundering footsteps marked the arrival of the investigation crew as they bolted down the hallway, faster than any of them had the capability of moving.

  Two down, eleven to go.

  The dance of insanity and murder has begun, ladies, gentlemen and all those in between.

-.- .. .-.. .-..

Word count: 979

Ayy I'm getting better at writing more.

<RubyBlueWrites left the game>