"Pencil!" Match called out. She pulled her coat around herself, trying to keep warm from the rain as it poured down. Pencil had left their apartment that morning to talk to Book after Golf Ball came by with the news. Hearing about how wrecked Book was that night really seemed to shake her up. However, Pencil failed to return by that afternoon.
Then a night passed.
Match's worry only grew when Golf Ball and Tennis Ball told her how the workshop was wrecked. Knowing Pencil, she wasn't petty enough to do such a thing, and Book...
Well, Match wasn't sure about Book. But she did know one thing. Something had happened. Something terrible. And Pencil was bound to be wrapped up in it.
Match felt dread seeping into her very soul. It was as if the trees around her were reaching out, begging her to just go home and wait for Two to come back. Her concern for Pencil, however, far exceeded any anxiety she felt. She waded further into the shrubs, trying to keep from getting too wet.
"Pencil! If this, like, is your idea of a joke, then, like, it's not funny!" Match called out. Only the rain answered, its pitter-patter thundering against the leaves above. She wanted to just find Pencil and go home. She muttered as she trudged along, eventually finding a clearing.
"Pence-Pence?" Match called again. No answer. Something about the air here felt...wrong. Match looked around, when she saw something had disturbed the muddy grass in the clearing. Despite her disgust, she crouched down. Footprints! Match stood up and raced after the prints, following their marks in the mud.
"Pencil! Are you down here?" Match called. She reached the edge of a trench and looked up and down it. Its muddy banks betrayed no answer, and the footprints stopped here. Match grew puzzled. Had Pencil fallen in the trench and drowned? Did she walk through it? Following the trench, Match walked on. The anxiety built in her stomach.
A flash of orange caught Match's eye. She looked down in the ditch to see Pencil's sweater, now muddied and soiled. Match gasped.
"Pencil!" Match slid down the trench, no longer caring if she got dirty. She ran over to her friend and pulled at the sweater to find that Pencil wasn't in it. The sweater was torn up and soaked with mud. Match's heart skipped a beat. She continued down the trench, clutching the sweater in her hands. As she went along, she found more of Pencil's clothing.
A shoe.
Her hairpiece.
Clumps of pink hair.
A lump of mud.
Match froze. In front of her was a sizable mound of sludge. Her mind screamed to run, to turn away, but her body resisted. She walked up to the mound. The sound of her shoes squelching in the mud accompanied the thundering of rain. Her hand slipped into the mound, letting the cold, dark, mud engulf her hand.
Something hard.
——
It wasn't long before the contestants were outside the forest, huddled around. A shrill scream echoed out from the woods, and currently, they were discussing who was to go in. The crashing of leaves and branches interrupted them as Match, now covered in mud and hysterical, bolted from the woods, panting.
"PENCIL! IT'S PENCIL!" Match screamed. Her eyes were wide in terror.
"W-What? Pencil? What about her?" Flower asked, the faint remnants of lipstick smeared on her face from when the scream rang out. Match stopped, panting and stuttering. She looked on the verge of tears.
"Give her some space!" Bubble called out. Match finally regained her bearing and wailed.
"P-Pencil's dead! Someone killed her!" She said through bated breaths. Golf Ball thrust herself through the crowd.
"Killed?" Golf Ball said. "What do you mean?" Match shook her head.
"I-I found her in a ditch! Her clothes were, l-like, all torn up, and...and..." Match sniffled. "H-Her head was gone!" From the crowd, a few squeals of fear sounded.
"H-H-Her head!?" Saw squeaked, hugging Gaty close to her. Golf Ball blinked.
"Show me where the body is. Tennis Ball, you come too," Golf Ball stated. She stormed into the woods with Match and Tennis Ball, leaving the crowd a murmuring mess.
Indeed, Pencil laid in the ditch, her body lifeless and muddy. She was covered in scratch marks, and her legs were bent in unnatural angles. Her head, on the other hand, was gone. All that was left was a splintered stump for a neck with a few of her graphite vertebrae sticking out. Match covered her mouth, trembling as Gold Ball examined the body.
"TB? Have you found the head?" Golf Ball asked. Tennis Ball shook his head.
"No trace of it anywhere! Looks like whoever did this took her head," At that, Match nearly fainted.
"W-What are we gonna do?" Match asked. Golf Ball and Tennis Ball climbed out of the ditch, Tennis Ball having Pencil's body draped over his shoulder.
"An autopsy," Golf Ball said plainly. "That way, we can find out the cause of death, as well as who did it—"
"Cause of death? Her head is gone!" Match yelled. "She's been, like, de-headed!"
"Decapitated, actually," Tennis Ball corrected. "And that doesn't mean she died when her head was removed. She may have been strangled, or stabbed, or—"
"Okay! I get it," Match covered her mouth again. At that moment she realized. "W-Wait, Book," Match's eyes grew wide. "B-Book's gone! What if she's dead too?"
"...We'll send some people out to find her, don't worry," Golf Ball said. "In the meantime, I recommend you try and calm down a bit. You're clearly frazzled," Golf ball turned to Tennis Ball. "Once we drop the body off at the shop, you should go talk to everyone about the...murder. You're better at calming people down than I am," Tennis Ball nodded, and the three made their way back to the workshop in silence.
——
"There's a murderer loose?"
The crowd riled up, a clamor of voices swelling like an ocean wave, already engulfing Tennis Ball as he stood in front of the crowd. He winced from the clamor.
"N-Now now, we don't know it's a murderer," Tennis Ball said. "For all we know, Pencil may have just fallen and accidentally...ripped her head off," As he spoke, he realized how stupid that sounded.
"I hate this!" Fanny exclaimed. "It was clearly a murder! Pencil's head wouldn't just pop off like that! I would know!" Fanny shot a glare at Snowball as she spoke.
"Fanny's right," Pie said, cross-legged on the floor. "As a member of Death P.A.C.T...Again, this sounds like a textbook murder," She shook her head. "The worst type of death, if you ask me,"
"Well, until we find out what's happening, we advise you all to travel in groups," Tennis Ball adjusted his cracked glasses. "Chances are, the murderer, if there is one, wouldn't target a group,"
"What about Book?" Taco raised her hand over the group. Tennis Ball pursed his lips.
"Book...Book is...being handled. No need to worry about her," He hesitated, knowing full well he had no idea what happened to her. Before he could be interrogated further, Tennis Ball retreated into the woods, following the path to the workshop. The crowd broke into panicked mutterings and musings.
"Wait, what happened to Book? I'm not in the loop," Winner asked Ice Cube. Ice Cube simply rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"I don't wanna die!" Lightning whimpered. He reached to cling to Tree, but Tree ducked quickly.
"You won't die! But do be careful, I'd rather not turn into firewood..." Tree muttered. Amongst the crowd, Taco stood, brow furrowed in thought.
"How much do you wanna bet she's having another freakout?" Taco overheard from Gaty. Gaty was leaning against Saw, who anxiously clung to her small friend.
"Hey, what are you two talking about?" Taco asked, butting into the conversation.
"...We're j-just a bit worried about...y'know," Saw tapped her gangly fingers together.
"Book," Gaty cut in. "Personally, I think she's probably having another freakout, and I'm not handling it this time," Gaty huffed.
"You're...kinda not wrong, Taco said, rubbing the back of her head. Both girls winced.
"Oh woodchipper, is she seriously still hung up over you?" Gaty said.
"What? No! No, she's over me...I think," Taco defended. "I think she's on some freaky drug Pencil snuck into her drink during the party..."
"The party/ But that was..." Saw counted on her fingers. "That was four whole days ago! Shouldn't it have worn off by now?"
"Maybe it's some kind of mental thing," Gaty said. "I think Book has some kind of disorder already, wouldn't something like that make her snap?"
"No clue," Taco said, gazing out into the woods again. A moment of quiet passed between the three.
"Do...Do you think she killed Pencil?" Saw asked. Her voice was a whisper as if the notion scared her.
"Honestly? I wouldn't be surprised. Pencil had it coming to her," Taco scoffed. "She was stupid to think drugging her was a good plan,"
——
It was a good while before the large huddle returned to the hotel. The halls were ominously quiet, save for the few who hadn't heard the news. Even then, they were warned, and the hotel fell silent.
"Saw?" Gaty asked. Saw looked up from the couch.
"Hm?" She grunted. Gaty stared out the window at their balcony. The memory of Book lying there, cut up with glass and missing a leg, returned to her. Gaty shut her eyes and shook her head.
"You think Book killed Pencil, right?" Gaty asked. Saw sat up and nodded.
"Yeah, why? Do you think so too?" She asked. Gaty shrugged.
"I mean, she may have been mad enough to think about doing it, but to be strong enough to actually tear someone's head off..." Gaty thought. "T-That's not what I was thinking. Should we tell Golf Ball and Tennis Ball?" Gaty asked.
"Wouldn't she already know? We told her about Book jumping out the window," Saw rubbed her hands together. "...I'm just...a little scared of going out, I guess," Saw admitted. Gaty nodded.
"True, but just in case..." Gaty looked at the door. "I'm going to go tell them. Stay here. If I'm not back in two hours, get someone and come after me," Gaty said, already at the door. Before Saw could interject, Gaty gave her a soft look. "If it is Book, I might..." She let out a soft groan. "I might be able to talk her down again...I'll be at the workshop," And with that, Gaty walked out the door and down the hall. Saw got up and opened the door to chase after Gaty, but found she was already gone. With a whimper, Saw retreated, locking the deadbolt.