Who Killed Markiplier?

Chapter 3

"Oh my god... There's been a murder!" The man shouted. Lightening struck outside. You would have found it ironic if one of your best friends wasn't lying dead on the floor. You sat down hard on the couch, hand over your mouth. You couldn't look at the body.

Just then, Benjamin walked in. "Have either of you heard the-?" He stopped when he saw the body. "Oh my god," he whispered. "Murder!" Lightening struck again. He knelt down next to Mark's body.

Then the Chef walked in. "Did y- murder!" He screamed.

"Yes, we get it!" yelled the other man, finally snapping out of his shock. He went right to work. "What the hell happened here?" He turned to you. "You better listen up real good, bucko. In case you haven't noticed, Mark is dead, and you're my prime suspect."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you guessed that he was probably a cop of some sort. You were too shocked to react to anything he was saying. He didn't seem to notice.

"You better get to explaining right quick as to the what, where, when, and why you happen to be here upon this man's death!"

"Don't shout at me!" You finally snapped, standing up. You took a deep breath. This was no time to break down, especially in front of strangers. "I know he was your friend, but he was mine as well. If you're looking for whoever is responsible, then you sure as hell aren't going to find it here," you said, pointing to yourself. Your voice shook and you couldn't make eye contact, which probably didn't help your case. The cop guy narrowed his eyes at you. Before he could say anything, the butler spoke up.

"Sir," he said, stepping away from the body. "Th-the body's cold, he's been dead for a while." He got back to his duties as butler and started to clean up your shattered coffee mug. You could see his hands shaking.

The cop guy (you really needed to learn his name) glanced back over at you. "Alright, you're off the hook... for now. But I'm a detective, and-"

"Oh yeah?" the chef interrupted. "Prove it!"

The detective pulled out his badge. The second he opened it, tons of pictures came spilling out. They were all of him posing with different people. He sighed. "Those were my old partners. I'm the only one that made it this far. As tough as they all were, they just weren't enough." He paused to think. "Hey, you look like you're up to the task! You're my new partner." He jabbed his finger into your shoulder, almost making you fall back onto the couch. You frantically shook your head. He laughed. "That's what all my old partners used to say." He said it jokingly, but you had a feeling he was being serious. What kind of friends had Mark been making since you saw him last? Right after you thought that, you mentally slapped yourself. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, especially if the dead is one of your closest friends.

"Alright, hand me my finger printing kit there behind you, partner," said the detective, snapping you out of your thoughts and pointing to a small wooden box near his bag on the coffee table. He knelt by the body. After a moment of hesitation, you handed him the kit. You might as well help solve this case. It's not like you had anywhere else to go.

"Thanks, partner." It was only a few minutes before the body was covered with a sheet and the area around it was taped off with the extra caution tape the detective kept in his bag. What kind of person brought caution tape with them to a party? Just as he lifted the sheet to inspect the body, Damien strode into the room.

"What the hell happened here?" He asked, taking a minute to process what he was seeing.

"Mr. Mayor, I-I'm so sorry. There's been a murder." Lightening struck again. You were beginning to worry about that.

"A murder?" He asked, confused. Lightening lit up the room. "Who?"

"Damien, Mark has been killed." He turned to look at you. Your voice didn't shake this time, but you spoke quietly. He knew you were about to cry.

"I'm afraid she's telling the truth," said the detective, standing.

"But... why?" Poor Damien looked lost and scared. You hadn't seen him like this in years. He was usually so in control. You broke a little and grabbed his hand for comfort. He held on to you like a lifeline. "Who would do this?"

"That's exactly what me and my new partner here are trying to figure out." The detective nodded his head toward you.

"Um, excuse me? I feel like we should call the proper authorities for this," interjected the butler.

"Look buddy, as far as you're concerned, I am the authorities." Whipping out his badge, the detective tried to take charge again. "The fact of the matter is, I believe the killer is right here amongst us in this very house. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. The rest of you, go back to your rooms, hunker down, and pray that you're not next." What an inspirational speech.

"I'll check on the other g-guests," stuttered Benjamin. He was clearly the most upset next to Damien, who was still gripping your hand. His expression hadn't changed, but you could tell how devastated he was. He had been friends with Mark much longer than you. He often talked about their adventures and their rise to fame. He became the mayor, and Mark became... well, rich.

"I'll get back to cooking," the chef grumbled. He retreated into the kitchen.

"I..." Damien suddenly looked like he was going to be sick. "I need to... to talk to the Colonel about this." He let go of your hand and quickly fled the room, looking back only to glance at the sheet still covering the body of one of his best friends. You wanted to follow him to make sure he would be alright, but the detective called you over.

"Alright, it's time to get to work. Judging by the body temperature, I am sure that Mark was killed around 1:30am last night. So," he gave you an accusatory look. "What were you doing at 1:30am?"

You tried to think back. The last thing you remembered was falling onto your bed and glancing at the clock on the nightstand, which read 1am. "I was sleeping, I think. Right after the party ended I passed out in my bed."

"Hm. It checks out." He rubbed his chin. "So, we need to figure out where everyone was and what they were doing around that time. At the very least, who saw Mark last. We need to piece together the story of what happened. I'll stay here and run more tests. You get out there. Good luck, partner."

You were slightly afraid of the house (and some of the people in it), but you held your chin high. You could do this. It was time to search for clues.