"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.
"Well, there is something in there—" [REDACTED] paused to gesture grandly to the closet. "—that I think you'll like."
"Oh," Blueberry replied, highly unimpressed. Is this seriously what I was dragged out of bed for?
"Just open it," [REDACTED] insisted, feigning a cheery grin. They subtly pushed Blueberry closer to the door. Blueberry looked back at [REDACTED], and unbeknownst to horrors that lay before him, he began twisting the doorknob of the closet.
There lay the lifeless corpse of Trophy. His head was grotesquely deformed, being dented in the front. Dried blood was splattered everywhere, painting Trophy's face a scarlet red. His soulless eyes bored into Blueberry.
[REDACTED] acted fast, grabbing Blueberry roughly and slamming a hand over his mouth. Blueberry struggled in vain to escape, wriggling everywhere. [REDACTED] shoved Blueberry in the closet, any thought of the sledgehammer being used right out the window.
[REDACTED] pinned Blueberry to the ground, raising one fist in the air. Blueberry writhed desperately under [REDACTED]'s body, fear flooding every inch of his mind. [REDACTED] slammed their fist into Blueberry's mushy face, already breaking some of his fragile skin. They repeated this action until the carpet was stained with green mush.
Huffing, they dragged themselves up to stand. Blueberry was unrecognisable, his body akin to a piece of ripped paper.
One more, and it's all over.
VICTIM #3: BALLOON
4:17 AM
Balloon fiddled with his fingers anxiously as he felt the elevator drop closer and closer to the floor he and [REDACTED] were designated to meet at. He couldn't explain it, but there was a sensation of foreboding doom twisting in his stomach.
Maybe he was just nervous to talk to [REDACTED]. Surely, that has to be it. That's all there is. Balloon had never felt very welcomed around them, nor had a deep one-on-one talk to them. In fact, if it were up to him, he wouldn't be here at all. He would be peacefully sleeping in bed. But, [REDACTED] has insisted and insisted, and Balloon was horrible at saying no.
Ding!
The elevator door slid open, allowing Balloon to slip out and began making his journey to the meeting spot. This was one of the most desolated floors in the hotel, as there were only two contestants living up here.
The hallway was laden with an eerie silence. It felt like it was pressing on Balloon like a hydraulic press. He could hear his sharp breaths and the creak of the floor beneath him. Balloon swallowed desperately, trying to banish the lump forming in his throat.
When he finally spotted [REDACTED], he'd expected some pressure to be taken off of him, but it was like he was carrying a boulder on his shoulders. [REDACTED] looked like they'd had about ten years taken off their lifespan in the time-strip of about an hour. Purple bags underlined their tired eyes, and there was an odd green goop on their forehead.
"Er... hey, [REDACTED]," Balloon began carefully, feeling as if he was treading on on eggshells. [REDACTED] gave them a painfully fake smile. "Uh, you have something on your... er... forehead."
"What?" [REDACTED]'s hands scrambled to their forehead, swiftly swiping away any trace of the goopy mush. An awkward chuckle escaped [REDACTED]'s lips. "Well, thanks for meeting me here."
"No problem..." Balloon's voice trailed off, peeking past [REDACTED]. The closet door was slowly creeping open. He scrunched up his nose. There was an odd smell wafting from in the closet. Balloon went past [REDACTED].
"Hey!" [REDACTED] yelped, making a grab for Balloon's wrist in vain. Balloon opened up the door fully, the stench hitting him full force. Tears welled up in his eyes, and not just from the stink.
Corpses.
"OH MY G—" Balloon was halfway through a shriek, turning to run when—
POP!
[REDACTED] stood there, breathing in heavily. They scrambled to pick up all the pieces of Balloon and stick them in the closet. "Cmon, cmon..." they muttered to themself, jumping at every noise.
***
[REDACTED] wiped sweat from their brow. They had finally cleaned up the closet and left no traces of who they were.
That's when they heard it.
Giggling accompanied by footsteps.
[REDACTED] took no time at all to fly down the stairs, watching from the blind spot in the stairwell. Waiting to see if they would discover their massacre in the closet...
A/N: i'm currently editing the first few chapters to make them fit with the last few chapter's narrative, so if this one doesn't line up with the next chapter that's probably why. it'll probably take a few months to fix because i'm lazy asf😻