fanart by @GetBoyish
D A N ' S P O V
I jolted awake at the sound of a giggle, matching the sound to Oliver. I blinked when I realized I was in a car, turning to see Phil driving with a cigarette between his lips and the windows down.
"Why didn't you wake me?" I questioned, yawning and rubbing at my sleepy eyes.
"You haven't been getting much sleep lately- it's the least I could do," replied Phil. After some silence, he spoke up again. "So let's never go clubbing again, yeah?" I giggled, my fingers automatically intertwining with his as we drove back to the hotel.
"I didn't even get laid," Oli sighed behind us. Alex eyed him.
"Well I mean you were in an asylum just a week or so ago," they responded. Layla laughed.
"That haircut isn't helping either."
"Fuck you guys," Oliver pouted. "Phil, can we get haircuts tomorrow?"
"Sure."
We parked and headed up to the room. He pushed the key into the lock and twisted it, but paused and turned to us.
"It's not locked."
"I locked it though?" Layla answered, the statement etched with confusion.
And the smiles immediately wiped off our faces when Phil pushed the door open. I dropped his hand, stepping back.
Blood scattered along the four walls, dry handprints on the windowpane. A video was on the TV, a camcorder attached to it. Next to the recorder was a sheet of paper. I wobbled over nervously, picking up the note.
I read it in my head first, and the rest of the group surrounded me besides Phil who was figuring out the camcorder. "What does it say?" Alex asked softly. I gulped, looking up.
"You're next," I breathed out. "It says you're next."
Suddenly the TV clicked on, and the video attached began playing. On the screen was a figure wearing a scary-looking mask, sitting in a chair. Others stood in the background, their identities censored. We all sat on the bed to watch, Phil instinctively catching my fingertips in his.
"If you're watching this, that means you aren't dead," the leader's voice laughed, their voice pitched low. "Well, yet I mean."
Alex made a noise of shock behind me.
"Anyways, I've recently found that one of my members has died at the hand of you, Phil Lester. Now, that wasn't very smart of you, was it? Although Daniel James Howell is still my first priority on the bloodshed list," they explained. My eyes widened and Phil's grip on my hand tightened. "Wanna know how I found out?" They picked up the camera and turned it to reveal the boy who healed me in the forest- Matthew.
He was tied to a chair, his eyes red from crying as he struggled to cry with cloth in between his lips. Phil scooted forward, gritting his teeth.
"That bastard."
The stranger then turned the camera back to them, a chuckle ripping through their hidden mouth. "I didn't want to have to do this," they began. "But once again, you and your group always make the wrong decisions."
"What does he mean?" Oliver snarled.
"Not only will I push this little child out of your hotel window and leave you all victims, but I know the way you get around, Lester. You worked with Wirrow almost all your life, your techniques are just like his. So, knowing that you'd kill our little friend at the club, I hope you know we had backup."
"Oh god," Layla cried out behind us, shooting up and walking closer to the screen to watch.
"You might want to turn on the news. See you all in hell!" The stranger laughed, waving before walking over to the camera and turning it off. The screen went black.
"Turn on the news! Turn on the news!" Layla gasped. Phil instantly snatched the remote, finding the channel before hitting it.
"-began shooting at everyone in the building. . . over twenty dead, more injured. Cops have not found the killer, although there has been some survivors who saw people get taken by people on the murderer's side.Their destination is also unknown but we are informed that we've got helicopters and military forces on lookout. The man appears to be tall, with a mask on. He had on a black coat with a 'W sewn into it, witnesses say. Back to Frank with the live interviews of survivors."
"Thank you. Now I'm here with Elena, correct?" Frank spoke, microphone being pushed to her face. She nodded, her shirt stained with blood. "Is that blood yours?"
She shook her head. "It's the others," she responded quietly. Frank nodded, looking at the camera before looking back at the girl.
"What happened, Elena?"
"He didn't even say anything before he starting shooting. He first shot the stereo so the music went out then the bartender, and shot anyone in range. Some ran and others didn't have time to escape. I played dead for at least an hour before they left with some injured. Ambulances came in and helped me."
"Alright. Do you have any messages for those watching? Any advice or extra information?" Frank spoke.
She took a breath, then turned to the camera. "Now that I think about, the man did speak while shooting."
"And what did he say?"
"They must die," she spoke in a hushed whisper. Phil stood up.
"Could you repeat that?"
She looked at the camera again, then snatched it from the cameraman. She began screaming. "Phil Lester and Dan Howell must die! They must die! Kill them! Kill them!" She yelled, then the screen turned off.
"That's how they're getting them on their side," Phil said first, slamming the TV remote down. "They're leaving them helpless with no other choice but to join them if they want to live."
Oliver spoke up from where he was near the window. "There's not a body on the ground."
"Well they obviously must have cleaned it up," Layla pointed out. Oliver shook his head and I walked over.
"No, not like that."
"What is it?" Alex questioned. Oliver looked at them.
"There's handprints going down the escape ladder. Somebody climbed out the window."
"And that means. . ." Layla piped in. Phil stepped over, speaking up.
"That means somebody's still alive out there."